I cooked this up as fast as possible so feel free to tear my ass up in the comments :P
*****
Okay, so maybe I was a guy in a past life. That's what people tell me because my tugging is so good. I know you're thinking I'm full of shit right now but I could put 20 dollars down that I can jack a guy off better than you. Hell if you're a guy I could jack you off better than you. I can make it better than in a snatch.
Sure I give decent head too and all, but I'm proud of where my real talent is. Because sucking a guy off or letting him get inside you is so personal to me. A dick is just skin. And you have jizz, which a lot of chicks think is gross, or at least pretend to. I don't want to be swallowing a stranger's nut because it's unhealthy but the chances of catching anything from a handy are low. You can't even call it living dangerously, you put yourself at a bigger risk driving to work.
What puts me over the other girls is that I actually put my sluttiness to use. You wouldn't believe how many problems in this world could be solved by getting the relevant parties to ejaculate. It's just a fucking massage. Y'know, just on their dick. Alright, cliffsnotes version: I'm a slut. Before we jump into this story I know you want to hear about my body.
I call myself curvy and I don't misuse it like most of the fat bitches you see around. But if you don't like thick girls well this may be the wrong diary for you. If I never worked out I'd look like a wildebeast, and still maybe there's some basement dwelling loser who would call me fat, but at least I have the proportions. My bra size is 38G, God's apology to my plump ass. If you're not familiar with the size system, I basically have to carry two women's basketballs. They look as milky as my big, toned thighs. Then there's my ass, which makes my tits look like mosquito bites.
I have to do weight training to keep everything firm and I've even got a story about that for later. I guess I'm just that girl that (supposedly) every black guy jerks off to. Phat ass white girl? Sure. I'm about 5'8" but don't worry short guys, I'm not a height nazi. So finally, now that the boring shit is through let me tell you how I became the unsung hero of my university.
It was homecoming week, what a bore. I usually spend my time either at the gym or studying. Or fucking the guy who should be doing the studying for me. Today I was eating lunch outside with my friend Alex. If you think this is the part where I describe my dream lover, guess again. Alex was a loser. A short, lanky, balding, squeaky voiced nerd. He was a sweet, nice guy to make up for all of that, but that's just not what we go for. I really, really wished I was attracted to him. I wished he was gay because I knew he was hopelessly in love with me since fucking high school. He'd saved my Calculus grade there and I kept him along ever since.
It was a nice day and I perhaps unwisely chose to wear a tanktop. My voluptuous tits were just pouring onto the metal table. They give my back such a hard time I just have to rest them on something when I sit. But the cleavage was too much for Alex.
Have you ever had a zit and noticed people looking at your forehead? Well, boys, please take notice of that the next time you think you can be discreet about looking all the way down to a bitch's chest. You might as well stare because we know when you're peeking.
He was admittedly a virgin and he proved it with his stuttering and drooling as he studied how obscenely my breasts stretched my tanktop for air. After eating in silence he finally said: "So uh, Sam".
"Hmm?"
"You hear about the homecoming game?"
"Yeah, I heard about it. Of course."
"Ah-Are you going?"
"Probably not."
No response.
I waited to see if he would would nut up. He did not. He bit into his sandwich with that poor I-might-just-shoot-myself look on his face. I said: "Well if you want to go, we can go."
He lit up like a fucking christmas tree. "Alright, cool. I'll pick you up tonight."
"It's alright. I can drive, cowboy."
"Okay."
And this whole time Alex was staring at my tits on and off. I dropped my ketchup packet and bent down under the table to pick it up. I saw the subtle bulge in his pants. Okay, I'll admit that part of me enjoys turning Alex on. But I didn't hold my tongue here. "Alex what the hell?"
"Oh. Oh."
"Come on you pervert."
"Shit I'm sorry Sam I didn't mean to. It's just."
"Just what?"
"I hear about you and all these guys around here and it just makes me feel weird okay?"
"What do you hear?"
"Th-that you fuck every one of them."
Oh Jesus. A handjob always turns into head or anal when you're bragging to your frat bros. And it scared me that word was finally getting around. "And why does that concern you?"
"Because...come on. I hear that they're practically strangers. What about me? I helped you through high school, I helped you through all your shitty exes...and I just. I feel like you ignore the hell out of me."
He was tearing up. His eyes were seriously red. Alex was just a sad guy. He talked to me about loneliness and I guess I ignored him most of time, texting other friends and whatnot, but now it struck me where he was at. "Alright, Alex. Come with me." I stood up.
"Where?"
"Come."
University parking garage. I walked him to the back, him saying "where are we going" and me telling him to shut up. Not a fancy place but it's got enough privacy to get business done. We stood between a Dodge and a pink slugbug. I usually only gave handies for favors but considering he'd done favors for me for years he could get a little recompense.
"Listen to me," I said.
He nodded.
"You're stressed out, and you need a little relief. I can see that. But this isn't a thing between us."