The Pink Circle Ch 05

The truth was, Gilda didn't quite know why she was there. Standing at the door to Klein's apartment, fist raised to knock on the door, she felt almost as though she were in a dream. Not that her dreams last night had been particularly pleasant.

By all rights, she shouldn't have gone back to see him and his friends. Not the next morning, maybe not ever. Not after the night they'd had. A hundred inappropriate comments, some very presumptuous touching, and worst of all, that smell! That smell... even now she would have sworn it still clung to her nostrils. The smell of what made those men so manly, and what drove them and empowered them. The stinky musk they were so eager to share with her.

The smell of their cum.

It stung her nose, that thick, musky all-too-manly scent. How had it ended up so burned into her senses? The evening had started out so benign, with just a little porn and some fun and games. But by the end, she was quaking, soaking wet, carrying her own cum-soaked outfit and stupidly swigging from some tainted beer bottle, spiked with that same slimy, salty, disgusting semen. Even the thought, the memory of it made her gag instinctively.

But stand there she did, still hesitating at the door, still drawn back by some force she couldn't fully grasp. Maybe things could start over. Maybe the guys wouldn't think anything of last night. Wouldn't care or wouldn't remember. Wouldn't treat her any differently. Her clothes were dry and clean: a punky black tank top with flat straps stretched over her ample chest, and equally black boyshorts that nearly rode up her tight ass. Her refreshed clothes gave her some confidence, but for a brief moment she imagined awful white streaks over them, and hesitated again. The question remained: why, after all that innuendo and presumptuous male action, had she returned?

Whatever the reason, it finally wore out its welcome. She rapped on the door with her knuckles, barking out in as familiar a tone as she could muster, "Hey! Dweebs! It's me, open up!"

After a good few minutes of waiting, the door finally swung open and disgorged its content of one beautiful, blushing girl in the hallway, a real beauty in a white dress. She had the most fabulous long purple hair, the most moonlit blue eyes! She must be highest-level crust. The daughter of a millionaire or something! Seeing her stepping out of Klein's room was like an elegant princess emerging from the murk of some smelly, steaming bog. And she did it all with all the grace and elegance of a true lady, a confident smile on her face and eyelashes lowered in the most self-assured of ways.

Hold on a second... Hadn't Gilda seen this girl in the school newsletters recently? Something about a Senator visiting the College and bringing his wife and daughter with him? No wonder Klein looked like he was in such a good, good mood today!

The beauty giggled, smoothed her skirts out and then turned towards Gilda with a smile. A shirtless Klein emerged from around the corner of the doorway, leaning into this magical creature from behind, no doubt cupping a handful of her big, thick behind.

If this was already a shocker, what happened next would take Gilda's breath away.

Maybe it was just that she was still groggy and waking up, maybe she was traumatized than she'd thought, but Gilda felt like any excuse would do if she could write all of this off to her wild imagination! Klein reached up with a fingertip and prodded the girl in her cheek, causing her full-bodied lips to pout gently, then spring open like a wired trap! She dropped her jaw and opened her mouth as wide as it could go, eyes still shining with mirth as she looked down the barrel of her chops directly at Gilda. That smile had somehow shifted from radiant to sneering without skipping a beat.

The inside of her mouth was gooped beyond recognition. There might be a tongue under all that spunk somewhere, but Gilda certainly couldn't see it! If it had moved, it would've looked like some drowning whale, trying to stay afloat in a treacle-thick ocean of man-gunk!

In her tongue's place, the basin of the girl's facial fuck-pit was frothed up with bubbles, that popped just as fast as they swelled up luridly. She had sooo much fluid to blow them with, after all! A dozen fine threads and silken webs of male ejaculate were glistening wetly in that socialite's mouth, running from top to bottom, and as they snapped in half one by one, whiplashing and raining awesomely-stinky male juices onto her lips and down her chin, Gilda was reminded of the last rope holding a bridge up across a ravine, and how it would look snapping before it dropped her into the bubbling white river below.

The smell of raw squid assaulted Gilda's nose, first floating all around her head, then hitting her nostrils from every angle at all! Stinky sperm smell washed over her in unending waves as she continued to gaze into that wide-open maw. It was a treasure trove of semen! She'd been thoroughly spermed!

Satisfied that Gilda had had a look, Klein nudged the purplette in the ribs and whispered something to her. She let out a very unladylike belch, curtsied, and headed off around the corner.

Klein turned to Gilda, all smiles. "Hey there, Gilda... You look like you've just seen a ghost, heh. Or plenty of ectoplasm, anyway."

He stepped away from the door, sweeping an arm around like a damn concierge. "Why don't you come in?"

Gilda gagged involuntarily, pressing one hand to the door frame and hunching forward as if struck, taking a moment to recover herself. Her reaction was again genuine, and Klein knew for certain that she wasn't just faking disgust to deepen her dykey image. No - the girl genuinely had hang-ups about cum! And pretty severe ones, it would seem.

And yet, somehow, despite an introduction like that being piled atop all her heady, confusing concerns, the brash tomboy still eased herself past the doorway, letting Klein shut it dramatically - even ominously - behind her.

She wished she could find the words to explain herself, to justify her return after the lurid treatment she was subjected to just one night prior, but if she couldn't explain it to herself, she definitely couldn't explain it to the big-dicked playboy flaunting so eagerly in front of her. Still, it seemed some part of her just couldn't give up, couldn't be drowned out by the images of torrents of gooey, frothy semen, couldn't be choked by the nauseating, musky, primal smell, couldn't be hidden behind dripping, frosted-white facade. Though she looked a bit uncomfortable, she was still there, with him once again, and desperately wanting to believe she was still just "one of the guys" to him.

So she crashed down on the couch, sitting with all the grace of a car accident, draping her arms wide over the back rest. She had to play it cool, to act like last night made no difference, and hopefully Klein would follow suit, leaving all those uncomfortable questions unspoken, all those memories in the past, all those dreams nothing but goopy, shameful dreams...

"It's a shame Rarity had to leave so fast. You could have had a woman to wo - Well... More like a "girl to girl" chatter."

He sat down on the couch beside Gilda, faking a yawn that ended up with one of his arms around her suddenly-embarrassingly bare shoulder, fingers sinking into her soft skin. He turned into her a little bit, tightening his grip a little bit. Was there really any need to not touch her at this point? What would she do if she wanted to protest? Give his cock a big, strong punch, using her mouth to deliver the blow? "Orrrr, maybe it's more like one spunk tank to another?"

He plucked a beer from the fridge beside the couch and forced the cool, cool glass into her hands, immediately helping to soothe her nerves. "Don't worry, it hasn't been tampered with or anything. Just regular, refreshing beer, mmhm. Have a few sips, then we can pick up where we left off last night."

Gilda fidgeted in a very unconfident manner, a manner much more befitting a wilting flower than a cocky, self-made bitch like herself. Her hesitation and nervousness was visible in her body language, which she tried desperately to maintain as cool and calm. Even when Klein sat down rubbing her shoulder in an all too familiar way, even when he suggested a very inappropriate name, she only spat it back in her typical way, treating it like a friendly insult between two buddies, not some implicit suggestion of lewdness. "You're a fuckin' spunk tank," she retorted bluntly, punching Klein square in the chest with a blow of intensity usually reserved for pillow fighting. Was he awakening some vulnerability, some weakness in her? Was she pulling her punches to show good-naturedness, to try and settle things from last night? Or was she really just that shaky?

Whatever the case, Gilda seemed too distracted to pay much attention to his touch, and swiped the glass quickly from his hand. She downed it in no time, not bothering to even check, taking his word about the safety, as if she'd learned nothing from the last night. She followed it with a sour, and an audible "Blehh", as if she was rinsing out some undesirable taste that still lingered. No doubt triggered by that musky smell that passed her as a white mouthful-pool in the hallway. "And where is it exactly you think that was?" she practically belched at him, unimpressed with his suggestive leaning.

"Wellllll, maybe a browse through last night's pictures will jog both our memories," Klein insinuated with a little smile. He picked up a tablet sitting on the coffee table and slowly and steadily unlocked it, like he was taking his sweet time with everything now she was sitting on the couch beside him.

"No, no I really don't think that's necess - " the poor put-upon lesbian began to refuse, only to be quickly shut up when the first photo appeared on screen. With that, the words were stolen right from her lips, leaving room for something far more enjoyable than the sound of her talking.

One by one, he began sifting through the pictures, forcing her to relive her memories of last night. All that playing with the dildo, holding it to her puckering lips, it was all slowly coming back to her...

Photo after photo flashed before Gilda's dazed eyes. She'd been hoping to forget all about the previous night, all about the debauchery she had been goaded into, step by step. All the ways the wool had been pulled over her eyes, and worst of all, how she was made to look like some dumb cock-hungry bimbo the likes of which Klein readily nailed. Inaccurately, of course!

There she was stripping... kneeling... that dildo... the photos gave her a different look at the events of the last night, a perspective she hadn't enjoyed. What she thought was an insult of sticking her tongue out at a symbol of maleness now looked, from this angle, like she was getting ready to give that fake knob a tongue-bath!

And the worst of all was one of the final shots: That magnificent shot of her on her knees, cock hanging over her face like some cruel inevitability, obviously taken from Klein's perspective. A shot down the young man's chest and stomach, to where Gilda's head lay between his thighs. Now, even though she knew it never touched her mouth, the photo sure looked like she was slurping on that cock! At least, she was pretty sure it never touched her mouth. It was kind of a blurry night.

He whistled under his breath when he reached it, a little "Can't believe I got away with that!" smile on his face.

Klein put the tablet in her hands. He picked up his own glass bottle and began to chug it down, eyes glued to her face, wondering what emotions Gilda would betray as she perused the debauchery. After a while night spent laughing at the dumb sluts who got suckered into Klein's photo shoots, she was now the star of the raciest one yet! The implications slapped her across the face like cum shots from hot, hard, throbbing dicks!

The poor girl squawked in surprise, blindsided by how bad it all seemed, just how much she had been led into. She levelled a suppressed, surprisingly deadpan glare at Klein, even as her eyes burned with hellfire.

"You do know if you ever show anyone these I will rip your guts out and feed them to you, right?" she mentioned casually, leaning back on the couch with a stretch like it was no big deal.

Klein chuckled, putting his feet up on the little coffee table. He was giving her one of those incredibly gormless grins men had a way of pulling out, mouth slightly open, corners turned cheekily upwards... He looked less like a cold and calculating manipulator and more like a kid on a rollercoaster!

"Ooh! Ooh, that's good! Yeah, let's work with that! Finish your beer, first."

The pair downed their beers nice and quick like, Klein slugging his and Gilda slamming hers down a few moments later. Then he uncrossed his legs and lay a hand on that magnificent bulge between his legs. "I do have to warn you, it's... Well, you saw how big it is last night. In fact, you got a better look than most girls, didn't you?"

Klein unzipped his pants and fished his dick out. Gilda squawked in surprise as he brought that thick-headed behemoth out into the light, yet at the same time she didn't take any effort to stop him, either! The air was thick with tension.

His shaft didn't look any less menacing or intimidating in a well-lit room. Actually, it made the sheer wrongness of its unnatural size and weight stand out even more! Her shock seemed to make everything stand out more, till every little detail of his cock was imprinted on her scared mind: She noticed every vein, the slight colouration changes and how large his urethra was, almost like pumping out such incredible amounts of cum had slept it stretched and loosened.

It looked thick. Like a battering ram. Like something meant to smash into defences until they broke. It was a veteran cock, that had battered down dozens of pussy-doors. There was no way one poor little lesbian could stand up to such a well-trained member of the misogyny army!

These thoughts and more rushed through Gilda's head as she stared at it. Most concerning of all, Klein's cock, still had bright purple lipstick marks on it, lipstick marks that made him squirm with embarrassment under her eyes. "Oops. Heheh, I didn't have time to wipe that off."

Klein pinched his dick with thumb and forefinger, waggling it back and forth between her eyes. He was handling it more like a toy than a weapon, the way the flaccid head flopped back and forth almost looking cute. "I'm sure you will, though."

He twisted his grip again, so the one-eyed devil was pointing at her, the flared urethra gently opening and closing with his breathing. "Alright, well, I think you know where this is going, don't you? Normally I let 'em get a bit comfier before I whip it out, but I kinda like my guts where they are, so I'll just cut right to the chase."

"You wanna do it here, or go to the bedroom?" he asked Gilda in a heated little whisper.

"Go to hell," Gilda coughed back. She scooted away on the couch in a way she desperately hoped would look like she was just getting comfortable. Nothing too weird about this, she tried to tell herself, clinging ever unreasonably to the flimsy hope that they were still just friends, that he hadn't lined her up in a sexual light.

"And put that gross thing away before I kick your balls into your throat," she threatened, averting her eyes and blocking the line of sight with one hand, her tone not at all as tough as her words. "And anyway, I didn't say anything about picking up where we left off! It was just a photo shoot, so quit thinking you can talk like that."

Their body language was certainly something to see. Klein, so confident, so powerful, aggressive even, leaning towards her. His flaccid, yet sizeable cock was waggled in her direction like an eager and intimidating toy. And then you had Gilda: shrunken back, squirming, glancing away weakly. Her posture was reserved, defensive, but still she just couldn't bring herself to outright slap him and march out the fucking door.

Why had she even come back? The place reeked of cum. She'd had nightmares about it, that taste, that smell, just the gross, slimy imagery alone made her stomach rise! Yet here she was, on his sofa where who-knows-how-many loads had been unleashed on girls either slutty or meek, just waiting for its turn with her as the recipient. She gulped nervously at her line of thought, not so hidden from Klein as she'd have thought.

And yet, her eyes, somehow, kept stealing back to that prick. She'd always hated cocks. Not just as a concept, but literally, physically. They were so... goofy. Like big, veiny, hairy weapons. Clubs. Menacing, yet strangely silly. How could they be taken seriously? And yet, in the same breath, how could they not be? Her gaze kept lingering on that swollen, reddening head that seemed to stare at her, as if it were its own separate, conscious entity fixing its sights on her, completely independent of Klein. She fidgeted again, taking in the sight of its incredible girth, apparent even when not erect. There was a long, uncomfortable moment of silence.

He put his arm back around her, drawing her back in firmly until those gargantuan funbags were heaped up on his chest, mammary-meat spilling down his pecs and all over his abs. He flicked his dick with a finger, then cupped her chin with the same hand. "Come onnnnn, don't be such a bitch, Gilda. I'll still think of you as a friend after, so stop making this weird."

Making this weird! He was talking about taking that large, fleshy animal endowment and breaking in her lesbian pussy! He was breaking their sacred trust as man and dyke to not lust after her and be her cool straight-guy buddy!

"I haven't moved the photos from last night anywhere but this tablet, you know. I heard someone saying you needed a new one, so I thought I'd pop them on there before I gave it to you. Mm. It's just a harmless prank, so chill out."

He shifted his hand to the back of her upthrust, messy white hair, sinking his palm into it until it was resting on her scalp. "But..."

Of course there was a but.

And it was a big one.

"You did that photo shoot for a reason, you know. You liked having men looking at your body and checking you out. All those eyes on your titties and your ass and your pussy... Mmm, fuck, your pussy. I haven't been able to stop thinking about that little sore-spot between your thighs all week, I'm gonna burst if I don't get to just try it out a little bit. Leave it stretched."

"Soooo, if you wanna do your buddy Klein a nice little favour before you step out that door, mm, I'd really appreciate it. I just want about, mm, 30 minutes of physical exercise. You could use it, Chubs, heheh."

"Did you forget I'm a fucking dyke?" she spat, almost laughing. "Look, I think a tablet's real generous a gift, but you think that's gonna earn you a fuck? A straight, cock-in-pussy fuck. With me. Gilda. A fucking dyke. Like I'm some bimbo like the ones you pull home every night? Come on!" she laughed, roughly, yet still uneasily.

He could feel her bristle to his touch, like an uncomfortable bird fluffing its feathers in preparation for flight. She squirmed and fidgeted. She even growled a little, like some animal. But also like an animal, she could be subdued and brought to heel. Not that she could ever put it to words, but as her eyes stole back repeatedly to that massive, waiting cock, she felt almost scared. Intimidated would be a better word, maybe. Cowed.

That prick that slowly stiffened before her, pointed at her poor, nervous face like an animal waiting for its chance to pounce, was truly the dominant creature in the room. Its attachment to Klein was almost an afterthought at this point, and the put-upon dyke started seeing it as its own dangerous beast. "Beast" was a good word for it! It was sweaty, veiny, awful to look at... yet still, her eyes fixed on it.