Never Too Many Never Too Much

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Note to readers:

Despite its placement in this category, the following story revels in lesbianism, interracial sex [lesbian and otherwise], public nudity with no clear justification, and the use of marijuana. Please do not read this story if you are offended by references to large forest creatures that have undergone taxidermy.)

*****

Last night was weird. I'm dictating this into a phone app in case I have to remember stuff for a deposition. I don't think anything illegal happened, but all kinds of shit can wind up in court. A civil case can get launched without lawbreaking. There might be consequences from when I said, "You can never have too many condoms or too much weed," while I was standing naked in a statue park downtown, fucking Cheryl from behind.

Okay, some of that was illegal, but I don't think there were any complaints filed. And I had a condom on, so I wasn't absolutely naked.

It started at Deer Trail Inn, which was once a roadhouse in the middle of nowhere, but then the city expanded that far and swallowed it up. It still has outdoorsy decor, mounted deer and wolf and bobcat heads on the walls, and oak beams holding up the roof, but also big-screens full of sports, and a dance floor with a gondola for a DJ. I can say all this clearly because I didn't drink nearly as much as Cheryl did.

We hung out at Deer Trail, like a few hundred other people. Such as Rowena, who was Cheryl's main squeeze. I was cool with that, and, yeah, I tend to pin medals on myself for being so cool about lesbians. Like Cheryl did to herself, for being a white woman who hung out with a black man while not being interested in my dick, because of not being interested in anyone's dick.

So why, then, you might ask, did the condom have my jizz on the inside and Cheryl's twat juice on the outside?

I'm a records manager for the county court, which is why I know so much about depositions. And questions that get asked. But the condom, tossed down a storm drain, never became evidence. So you wouldn't ask that.

At Deer Trail, Cheryl and I mostly talked about cars, especially ones we can't afford. But I also told her that I wanted to get in better shape. She's a personal trainer at my gym. So after that she worked with me, and I got good results. She really likes men's bodies, and improving them, but they don't turn her on.

She didn't have to prove that by stealing my girlfriend. Just sayin'.

My girlfriend being Fran, not Rowena. Rowena

was

Cheryl's girlfriend, but they spatted a lot, including at Deer Trail in front of people who mostly couldn't care less. I cared, and wanted them to be happy, or at least less dramatic and loud. I didn't tie their dust-ups to the fact that Fran hadn't gone out with me, or hooked up with me, for about a week.

I won't call Fran my ex-girlfriend yet. This lesbian thing, maybe it's just youthful exploration and self-discovery. Like it was with the two girlfriends she had before I convinced her that sexting them with my prick inside in her made for really good revenge sex.

Yeah, the sexts could be evidence. But not directly connected to last night.

Which was when Rowena said to me, "Calvin, trust me, I'm the only dyke here who won't fuck you." But Rowena was totally naked in the statue park, Cheryl had only dragged down her pants to her ankles. Her own pants. Cheryl's. Maybe I should start over, except first I gotta say that Rowena really,

really

looked good naked, which I never would have suspected.

Three days ago Fran texted me: IM MOVIN ON U SHUD 2. That night at Deer Trail, Fran was glued to Cheryl's side.

Okay, I had made a few snide remarks about how small Fran's tits are.

Fran has a gorgeous face, and her tight-curled hair is styled just so, and her skin is even darker than mine. Dark is in charge these days, no matter who has the dick, so she should have known that anything I said about her breasts was affectionate and all in fun.

In her deposition, she might say it was a whole lot of snide remarks. But if they're only a few specific snide remarks, said several times each, should that count as a whole lot?

Last night at Deer Trail I was pissed off at Fran and Cheryl, and when Cheryl showed up by herself, I hoped things had blown up in her face. Actually, they were going according to plan for her, and the next step in her plan was for me to bang her.

Cheryl could drink me under the table. By the time I got that hunch, it was going on too late.

In the statue park, Fran was fully dressed, and taking phone pix. I about broke down crying, looking at her, but weed does that to me sometimes.

"You like white chicks with big tits?" asked Cheryl. (Back at Deer Trail, where there isn't a statue park. But there's all those heads. What's the point of doing that to a bobcat? See what I mean about weird?)

"Only the ones who let me in their pants," I said, maybe slurring, maybe self-pitying. I then said, "Big compared to what?"

"Asshole," she declared, I don't think as an answer. "C cups on a fit hottie count as big." She leaned them into me, along with some of her long, wavy brown hair. "You've gazed into my cleavage plenty at the gym."

I fumbled out my phone.

"What?" asked Cheryl.

"Checkin' messages. If Fran dumped you, I can beg her forgiveness." All of that phone handling put me in more and better contact with Cheryl's boobs. In a deposition, I wouldn't say anything about whether this was intentional.

"Didn't happen," she said. "Tonight I'm making everything right. I got Fran hooked up with Rowena, and now I'll give you the ultimate male fantasy of curing a lesbian."

"Curing, huh?" I burst into giggles, and reached behind to slap her butt. "Like a ham?"

She hauled me to my feet. "Your place. The sooner this is over, the better."

Even if I was sober, I probably wouldn't have remembered that Fran still has a key to my place.

I had to get past the giggles, so in Cheryl's car I blazed up. It was okay, she was driving, and I only passed to her a couple times. She justified herself at great length, saying that by giving Fran to Rowena and herself to me, she was proving how nice and considerate she was to the people she was messing up, so nobody should ever hate her. When I got her to admit that this carnal carousel spun for one night only, she insisted that doing this at all gave her a clear conscience, and haters couldn't blame her for anything.

"Roll another joint," she told me once we were at my place. She fondled my package and smiled. "It's getting me in the mood."

Did I mention that Rowena's brother Lou was at the statue park? Maybe that can wait.

Yeah, certainly by comparison, Cheryl's tits were a whole lot bigger than any I'd gotten naked lately, and being white, they also seemed to take up more space in the semi-darkness. Her nipples tasted like her perfume, which probably wasn't meant for ingestion.

She got a vise grip on my head, and we tongue-wrestled. Up for air, and pretty well stoned, she said slowly, "Facial hair. A novelty for a follower of Sappho. You okay with eating me out?"

With only the kitchen light on, she probably couldn't see me roll my eyes, but I had plenty of derision in my voice when I said, "Yes, Cheryl, the traditional Do's And Don'ts For Black Men were revised as part of the remedy for the Y2K crisis. Wearing a shower cap in public is now a Don't, and performing cunnilingus is now a Do." Which was a great line, but I probably could have worked 'Do' into 'Do-rag' somehow.

"Then face-tickle my shaved pussy," she said, oblivious. She took a long toke before stretching out on her back.

On the floor, just inside the front door. Which is why the door smacked into my foot when Fran entered.

Fran yelled about as much at Cheryl as she did at the dude who had landed a white bitch. When I finally got through to her the perfectly reasonable question of why she and Rowena were at my place, she said, "For your weed! Rowena ran out."

Lou is a cop. He was out of uniform at the time, though, and done up in rough-trade leather. No, wait, later.

For Cheryl, holding her liquor doesn't extend to staying focused under cannabis. Her head was unsteady when she sat up. "Pretty sure I came," she said, to all or none of us. "Yeah, I did, when the door shoved Calvin's front teeth into my clit." Then she looked at our visitors. "But Calvin hasn't fucked me yet. Need that to finish this."

"He is

not

fucking you!" Fran grabbed Cheryl's arm and dragged her to her feet. "His prick and your pussy are both mine! Get dressed, we gotta go get weed!"

The impaired state of everyone concerned (Fran and Rowena had been draining a vodka bottle) was such that I was still naked on the floor (having managed to roll over and sit up) when the door slammed to signal the departure of Fran and maybe-dressed Cheryl, and Rowena was still there, standing, blinking. It was she, however, who set things in motion again by saying, "Where will they go to get pot?"

"Fran doesn't know. I always score it." I saw my erection, and realized that it now had nowhere to go.

"Where?" Rowena persisted.

"Statue park, downtown."

"I'll drive," said Rowena.

During which I worked out that Rowena had driven Fran but then Fran had Cheryl drive (stoned), and my car was still at Deer Trail, in what might be a tow zone come morning rush hour. I paranoided on that while Rowena topped me by pointing out how many times she'd been dumped this week, including just now, and I offered to make her feel better and she said what I alluded to earlier about her and me.

One of the heads is either a wolf or a coyote. Nobody seems to know which.

We figured that Fran and Cheryl would eventually hear from somebody about where to score dope, because, after all, so many people are up and around and talkative at 1 a.m. on a weeknight. But we expected to get there first. Then we'd get naked and stand still, so we'd look like the other statues, so when the women who dumped her got there, they wouldn't recognize us.

That was Rowena's plan, anyway, and she was very clear about it, so vodka must make her pretty decisive, while the weed, which had killed my giggles, now mostly had me drowsy.

But, hey, seeing Rowena naked was the best thing that had happened to me all night. Maybe all week.

Getting an eyeful, thanks to the streetlights, I saw rich smooth skin, unmarred by what would be a ghostly pallor on anyone else. Sleek, well-turned legs. Broad hips, buttocks that didn't sag, a round belly rising to a slender waist. Shapely, classically-posed arms, stemming from high, athletic shoulders. Firm round breasts advancing from a massive rib cage. Definitely statuesque. Which might mean her plan was brilliant, in her case.

I saw all this by walking around her. Several times. Even after she said "Stand still, damnit, you're supposed to be a statue."

"You're beautiful, Rowena," I said in awe. "From the neck down anyway." The less said about above the neck, the better.

In the distance I heard Fran's voice, still angry but also weary. I adopted a classical pose. Rowena busted a gut laughing, and had trouble getting back to a freeze.

The scheme worked so well that Fran walked right up to me and said, "Who's your connection?"

"Lou over there," I said, pointing to the rather conspicuous guy in leather.

Fran looked that way. What she saw first was Rowena. "Damn," she whispered. Cheryl, joining her, said, "Yeah, I know."

Rowena also said "Damn," looking at Lou.

Rowena was now surrounded by three people who desired her. Off in the distance, her brother sold weed to what looked to be rich college kids.

Cheryl caught a glimpse of the look on my face. Dropping trou, she said, "Do me while you drool at her. It's the best you'll get." She handed me a condom, I guess from her jacket pocket. This showed the extent of the advance planning in her Immunity From Haters Project.

So I fucked Cheryl while I looked over her lowered back at Rowena. I paid tribute by blasting semen into latex and clutching the hips of her former lover. Fran, one hand in her pants, took phone pics of Rowena. My weepiness had to do with a realization of how much incriminating stuff Fran had in her phone, and in the cloud.

To make universal the adoration of Rowena, a college kid hit the ground, blood escaping his nose, while Lou yelled, "She's my

sister,

fuckhead!"

As always, Lou claimed he was undercover, waiting for just the right target to collar. Fran pointed out that recreational marijuana will be legal next year, and simple possession busts might be erased retroactively, and he said do you want a bag or not. He clearly liked Fran, and she flirted with him, and I started to get all whiny, and Cheryl stuffed my clothes into my arms and pointed me at her car.

Cheryl took over the whining as she got me to Deer Trail, how she might be the one with nobody now, not just missing out on Rowena and Fran but two women at the gym, who she knows must swing both ways, but she can't get them interested. I told her she could come back to my place, and we proved what I've always said for the past few hours, that you can never have too many condoms or too much weed.