The Catfight Pt 01

I was 27 years old when I met the horniest person I had met in my entire life.

Her name was Angela. She was roughly 5 feet tall, with triple d breasts and a persistent penchant for flirtation. I had met her, unexpectedly, at the place where I worked.

Such a diminutive stature had enabled her to bypass many of the social norms of the office, as she was allowed to get away with any discretion on account of how innocent she seemed. When one day she decided to have some of the male employees do her share of the work in exchange for a peek at her massive tits, she managed to get out of the accusations by telling our boss she was "coerced" into it. She once fingered herself during a work meeting and then wet willied a guy with that same hand. On another occasion she was caught having sex with one of the interns in the break room. However, she told everybody that she had merely fallen into his lap and 'didn't know that he would have his cock out.' The poor fella was immediately fired and sent to prison. On her way out of the office that day, she winked at all of us as if to say, 'Good luck catching me for any of this shit, boys.'

In my earlier days at the company, before I was aware of her reputation, she tracked me down in the parking lot to ask for a ride home. Naturally, my indecision over the matter was minimal; she was a tiny human with big tits. That was enough for me. So I graciously offered to be her personal uber for wherever she needed to go.

As we rode along, I remember her breaking the silence by asking if I wouldn't mind turning on the air conditioner to cool her off some. I watched her out of the corner of my eye take off her corporate vest and throw it in the backseat. She then proceeded to unbutton her blouse so that I could fully see her bra, which struggled to contain her massive, pale tits. She glanced at me apologetically, said something about the state of the heat in the car, and then commenced into silence for the rest of the ride.

Not the least bit upset by this turn of events, I kept driving until we reached the destination - a trailer park in the middle of nowhere surrounded by corn stalks. I was worried about them potentially containing demonic children. I then watched as she got out and walked purposefully over to the driver's side window, which she motioned for me to roll down. Doing so, I watched attentively as she leaned towards me, giving me a good look at the massive jugs that were already stirring the dark parts of my imagination.

"Where are my manners?" she exclaimed. "Why don't you come in for a moment and I can catch you up on some things. Workplace gossip, who's worth talking to -- all that good stuff." She smiled, tossing her hair back. "I'd be more than happy to share."

Any man that says no to something like that should be castrated. I quickly answered in the affirmative, and was led into the tiny trailer in good spirits.

Once inside, she led me to what appeared to be her bed, and since there was little else to sit on I had no choice but to occupy the space next to her. Even in the dim light of the trailer I could see the edges of her areolas peeking out as she adjusted her bra. Thinking that at some point in the night I was going to be sucking on them, we began to softly talk about the office, and all the "mistreatment" she had suffered there. I decided not to tell her that I thought she was a perv.

Before long she had won over the sympathies of both me and my cock, which was straining to leave my pants and make its way to her large bosom. Hardly able to stand it, I reached out my hand to cover her own during a particularly emotional story and gently rubbed it. The tension in the room became palpable, and I could tell she was feeling it too.

We started to inch closer to each other on the cramped bed. As she spoke, she gave the most unwavering eye contact, not even turning to look away during the breaks in her stories. Gradually, her stories began to get a little sadistic, as she described her enjoyment playing with mens' balls around the office, choking them in a firm grip and then tickling them with a feather. When I asked her why this was the case, she said, "Because they deserve it." I realized in that moment that she had to be a Taylor Swift fan. There was no doubt about it. I briefly considered mentioning the benefits of healing emotional trauma, but doing that to a Taylor Swift fan is like trying to take a dino nugget from an autistic. It's simply not worth it. I was not trying to get screeched at in the middle of a trailer park.

Still, I was fairly optimistic over the idea of having mentally ill sex. Her lips were very plump and expressive, after all, and I got the urge to kiss them as her passion began to crescendo.

All of a sudden, I heard what sounded like a motorcycle pull up right outside the house. The sound was deafening. I looked inquisitively towards the window, ears perking up, wondering what in the hell was going on. Did someone else live here? I hadn't the faintest idea, so I stood up from the bed nervously and peered through the curtained window.

"Uh, Angela..."

"Yes?"

"Do you live with someone? Because I'm pretty sure that car outside is parked in your driveway." As I spoke, the headlights turned off, and I watched with trepidation as a shadowy figure got out of the car and slowly stepped out. "Do you know who that is?"

Angela stood up from bed and joined me by the curtains to stare out at the uncertain stranger. Squinting her eyes, she suddenly snapped her fingers in recognition. "Oh, that's my landlord! He doesn't come until later in the week, usually." She moved back toward the bed and patted the seat next to her. "No need to worry! He won't be here long."

"Uh, Angela," I said, noticing that she wasn't making any move to greet him as he came upon the door. "Won't you need to let him in?"

"No, I think he's got that all taken care of!" she exclaimed cheerfully, as the landlord started to unlock the door with a set of keys. While he was busy fumbling with the door, she reached for my forearm and started to pull me back onto the bed. Then, out of nowhere, she pushed me onto my back and started kissing me. It was completely unexpected, and although I reciprocated the kiss my brain registered alarm as the man, who was now firmly inside the trailer, cried out. It sounded vaguely like Kevin from the film Up. Breaking away from Angela, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, causing me to avert my eyes for a second, and took a woozy step in his direction, ready to introduce myself. The kiss had packed quite a punch. Certainly not bad for a first date, I thought. Looking up, I started to say something when the landlord, taking two quick steps forward, absolutely demolished me with a right cross to the face.

The punch, upon reflection, was equally as woozy as the kiss -- and not in a good way. For I was knocked unconscious. I later learned that the man who had red crossed me was not Angela's landlord, but her ex-boyfriend. Most notably, it wasn't even her trailer: It was his trailer. She had broken into her ex boyfriend's trailer and used me to make him jealous. It was both hot and disconcerting at the same time. I was so angry that I didn't talk to her for several weeks after.

Eventually, however, we became very good friends. She had a relentless charm to her that was hard to ignore. It didn't hurt that she would repeatedly flash me until I would talk to her. When I told her that her nipples looked like a regretful rabbit, and she laughed, I knew that it would be impossible not to be her friend.

Even as friends, she couldn't resist being extremely sexual. It was quite fun sitting back with a smirk as she mimed stroking a cock, or whispered in my ear, or even

- when she was feeling particularly aroused - call me daddy and moan. Even though she would always laugh to signal that it was a joke, we were both aware that a part of her was inviting me to fuck her brains out. Still, we lapsed into a comfortable friendship of flirtation and humor, recognizing that if we were to remain friends, we should keep it that way.

When I met my girlfriend, everything changed forever.