(Author note: I can relate to this story more than any other I have written in my life having grown up with three older and much more attractive sisters. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it for you. Please feel free to comment on my work, I like to know if there is anything I could have done to make it better or more enjoyable.)
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He found the ad in one of those little underground new papers that will report on the craziest things and run the most outrageous ads. The title of her ad reminded him of a military slogan.
"Looking for A few Good Men"
"BBW, nineteen, black hair and amber eyes, with melon sized tits and an ass made for a man to grip. Looking for a man who can make her cum. I been hungry for a long time, are you the one I need? Are you up to the challenge? Call Keni at..."
Keni was an odd name for a girl but he wrote the number down and decided he would call her after work. The ad had to be a joke. He knew big girls weren't really the trend these days, but still, to think of a nineteen year old out in the world who had never cum. That was a crime against the religion of sex. He never left a partner hanging. Hell, he had been making women cum since the first pussy he fucked at the age of fourteen. Since he was now twenty five, he had eleven years of experience and could guarantee results.
When he reached home, the idea of meeting this deprived female had grown to a full blown fantasy. He would show her the true purpose of sex, not for procreation, but for the mutual sexual gratification of two consenting adults. God, he couldn't wait to call her and set up a meeting. He almost ran to the phone and dialed her number. As it rang, he opened his pants and pulled out his throbbing cock. "Answer, come on bitch, answer your fucking phone..." He spoke the words in his head.
"Hello..." God she had a sexy voice, a bedroom voice he would have called it. Deep and throaty, with a hint of an southern drawl to it.
"Is this Keni?" He hoped so, he was already imagining her begging for his cock and to make her cum.
"Yeah, can I help you?"
"No, but I think I can help you, my name is Jericho James, I'm calling about your ad in the Underground Express." He had memorized every word.
She gave a faint chuckle. "Let me guess, you got a twelve inch cock and you can guarantee I will come before you do."
"I take it you been a very popular girl today. And it's thirteen and if I don't you can turn me into your love slave for the next ten years." He joked.
"Hmm, that's a new one. Ten years huh? You do understand that when I say satisfied, I mean in me, not a lick and suck job or fingers. You have to make me cum by straight old fashioned fucking. I'm tired of the kinky stuff, it doesn't work any way."
Jericho smiled as he stroked his cock. He liked the sound of her and found he was anxious to meet her, even if he didn't succeed he bet she would be a blast to know. "I understand that. So can we get together? Say tonight?"
"Can't tonight, but tomorrow is free. Like you said I been a busy girl today. When and where do you want to meet?"
"I work at the bank over by the stadium, how about you meet me at work about five p.m. We'll out to dinner and do the whole dating thing. How will I know you sugar?"
She laughed softly. "Oh, you'll know it's me. Just walk up and slap me on the ass, I'll know it's you that way." He heard a grunt and groan in the back ground and her voice changed it's tone. "Get the fuck off me you loser. And lose the number, I don't even consider you worth having it."
Jericho realized that she had been being fucked while they talked and he never would have known. "How long he been trying?"
"Three damn hours, good staying power, but not enough. Damn, another night with the vibrator." She sounded totally disappointed.
Jericho smiled as he saw his chance for a more immediate meeting. "I could come over tonight, bring a pizza and some cold drinks."
She considered it. "Sure, what the hell, if I don't get some good cock action pretty soon I am going to go crazy. Got a pen and paper?"
He found one. "Address?" As she told him, he realized that she lived in one of the new condos they had just built down town. He knew the places because he had taken a tour with some friends from work. They had been considering going together on one, but the five million price tag had been too much even for the five of them. "Nice address. Should I show id at the door?"
"No, just tell the doorman you're here to see Keni, he'll let you in no problem." There was something in her voice that told him the doorman had been tried and failed. "And make that pizza with everything, extra cheese and mushrooms. Growing girl needs her calcium and veggies." With a laugh she hung up and he looked at his throbbing cock.
"Down boy, tonight you get the real thing..." He was sure it had grown two inches and two around just talking to her. Damn she had the sexiest voice he had ever heard.
A quick shower and change of clothes and he was out the door. A stop at a pizza parlor near the condo netted him a large pizza and a six pack of the best micro brew in town. At her building, a doorman who had to be a stud himself was holding the door open for an older man with a blonde who had to be half his age. She was hot as hell and he saw the girl give him a sideways glance as he waited for them to drive off. When the doorman noticed him, he grinned.
"Hey, I'm here to see Keni." He tried his best customer service tone on the dour looking hulk.
The door man looked him up and down as he seemed to debate over letting him in or calling the police. Finally, in his most dismissing manner, he shrugged. "She told me to expect a delivery man, tenth floor. Go on up."
Since each floor was it's own condo's entrance, the door opened into a room the size of his full apartment. Obviously who ever owned the place liked red and black velvet. It was every where. Covering the furniture and used as wallpaper. Paintings of Rubenesque built women engaged in sex with all manner of creatures dotted blank area of the wall. He found he was attracted by the use of color and while the subject was total erotica, he admired the style and brushstrokes. When he had attended UCLA to get his Business degree, he had also minored in Art Theory, and spent most of his free time checking out the art galleries in both LA and in his home town of Frisco. In curious mode, he looked for a signature and found one in the lower left hand corner. A small K was scrawled. Not one he knew.