1 comments/ 9265 views/ 4 favorites B-Day Ch. 05 By: Embers_X Opening the door to the shabby, cubbyhole-sized bathroom, Jessi quickly reached out to grab my hand. She was seated on the toilet with her legs parted. Her left hand dangled between her legs, ready to pull the nozzle from her anus. 

 "I-I'm...gonna poop, big sister," she said, her eyes searching mine for some kind of approval. 
I did my best to meet her gaze as she pulled the tube out. It was hard, especially when the very graphic and loud, wet farts suddenly blasted my ears. I turned up my nose, wanting to be anywhere else. I saw her strain, causing more flatulence. 

She tried to smile weakly at me, but it just grossed me out. The room quickly filled up with a foul stench, but I continued to hold her clammy hand dutifully. 

"Ugh! Big sister, it's so hard to go," she said, her face scrunching up. I just stood there in shock. What had this girl's mother done to her? How long had this been going on? Maybe it hadn't been long, but I was afraid to ask. All those photos on her living room wall seemed recent, as if she were born into the body she occupied right in front of me. For my own sake, I imagined that to be the truth as best as I could. I heard very small, sludgy "plop", then more groaning. She grabbed my hand so tightly my fingers started to darken. Her stomach tensed, and there was another very small plop. I shut my eyes tight and just tried to enter a happy place in my mind while she finished. "Hey...big sis?" she squeaked again. I shuddered, then slowly lifted my right eyelid just enough to catch a fuzzy image of her pinched face. "Yes, Jessi?" "Can I see your butt stopper?" "My what?" "Y' know, your butt stopper. To hold your poo in?" "What?!" "D-did I say something wrong?" she asked. I forced my eyes back open only to find a disturbingly genuine look of naiveté lingering on the girl's face. My heart suddenly broke into a gallop. "Uh, no..." I replied, blinking rapidly. "You didn't..." "Mom says she'll buy me a nicer one if I behave. I saw a shiny one with a blue jewel on it. It looks so pretty! What's yours look like? Is it—" I didn't want to know any more. "Are you done, Jessi?" I interrupted, hoping she wouldn't push this bizarre line of conversation. "Oh...I-I think that's all that's gonna come out right now. I'm sorry big, sis," she said, flushing the toilet mercifully before I could catch sight of whatever she'd accomplished. Taking a wet nap from a dispenser over the tank lid, she wiped herself clean, tossing the rag into the trash, and then drew closer to me. Her saccharine-sour breath reached my nostrils, blending in with the faint stink of her anal emissions. Not my most favorite combination, but the look in her eyes cancelled it out, captivating me. I felt something tingle inside of me. "Thank you, big sister..." she said with a shy smile, leaning forward to kiss me. I thought to pull away, but she wrapped her long arms around me and pressed her pouty lips against mine before I could. I impulsively kissed her back. My fuller, darker lips eclipsed her own. She melted, her naked body sinking deeply into mine, with only the thin fabric of my dress separating us. I wondered in that moment if she could feel my little "secret" poking up against her, but if she did, she didn't let on. Her kisses were awkward and needy, but tasted better than her breath predicted—either that, or I was getting accustomed to her. Either way, I was very aroused at that moment. Her sweet taste distracted me from foul odor around us, and if I didn't think Evander were waiting outside, I might have taken her for myself right then and there. 
"We should go," I reminded her. "Evander—I mean...your father is waiting." 
She stole a few more sucks from my bottom lip, then nodded. "You're right," she said, taking me by the hand and leading me out of the heady bathroom. We walked back into the room to find Evander completely naked, rock hard penis in both hands. I saw that handsome grin on his wide, thickly-cut lips and knew he was readier than ever. "Alright, then. All set to face the bad guy, Jessi?" he said sportingly. "I think so..." she said with a shy laugh. She squeezed my hand unconsciously. "Then get that pretty young ass over here," he said, patting his palm with his cock loudly. Releasing my grip, she bounded to him enthusiastically. Her pale little bottom shook as she ran. I looked at it, wondering if it would ever be the same after tonight. 

Lifting her up in his powerful dark arms, he cradled her. Her milky legs dangled over the side. She laughed nervously and blew her blonde hair out of her face. "Dad, you're so strong!" she said. He kissed her on the lips, and she writhed, hungrily pressing her face into his. Carrying her into her bedroom, I heard him throw her down on her soft mattress. I followed behind, lube in hand, slipping off my sandals in the doorway. Her room was surprisingly open—aside from a bookshelf exclusively lined with crystals, candles, stones and seashells, the only other notable decor was the giant tie dye cloth hanging over her bed. I took a seat cross-legged on the floor. "Abi. Give me the lube," he said, extending his arm to me as he stood. I reached up, passing it to him. He turned, allowing me to admire his sculpted legs and compact haunches as he walked over to Jessi. She was already soaking the bed with her own wetness, and at this point, I had to cup my own hand under my crotch to keep from staining her rug. Slathering his tremendous dark penis in KY Jelly, a squishing sound filled the air as he worked it up and down his length. He then threw her the half-emptied bottle. "Get your ass ready," he said. "O-ok...dad," she said, then slowly turned, getting on her hands and knees and emptying a dollop of the lubricant into her trembling hand. 

Reaching back, she slathered her butt crack, finding her asshole quickly and shoving three fingers in simultaneously with little effort. 

"Uhh, oh my God," she blurted, adding a pinky finger with more relative ease, and noisily beginning to drive four fingers past her big rosy sphincter. 

The hand I slipped under my summer dress, still mindfully positioned at my crotch, began to fiddle with the head of my tiny girlcock, smearing my own nectar across it. My moans started to match her own in volume, and I heard Evander laugh to himself. He swooped down on her, pushing her head into her pillow, and she removed her fingers, leaving behind a slippery, gaping porthole. 

"P-please do me up the tushy, dad," she blurted, winking her anus open and closed rapidly as if to lure him. "F-fuck my poop hole!" "Where did you learn to talk like that? Watch your language, young girl," Evander replied quickly, grinning. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Shit, shit, shit!" Jessi yelled over and over brattishly. "See dad? I'm cursing! I'm being a bad girl!" "And you'll get what's coming to you," he said, smacking her small ass cheeks hard. "OW!" she bleated, her face suddenly contorting into a look of profound discomfort. "Dad, that hurt!" With another back-handed smack, she screamed, tears forming in her eyes. "OW! Dad, wait, that's too hard!" "Is it? Then maybe you'll learn to watch your language," he said, raising his hand for a third strike. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." she mumbled, before, turning her head and looking back at him with hungry eyes, a mischievous smirk lifting her rosy cheeks. "But, um. Fuck, shit, shitty fucking fuck! You're a dirty shit-packer, dad! Bleh!" 

"What did I tell you?" he barked almost joyously, swiftly and squarely connecting his hand with her backside with measured force. She shrieked in pain, her butt flashing bright pink. "Thank you, dad! I'll never curse again, I promise, I promise!" "Put your head back down, Jessi," he ordered. She did as told obediently. He reached under her, twisting her little nipples until her body started to curl and undulate. It was as if he were setting a spinning top in motion. Her moaning became longer and deeper. Without further delay, he positioned the head of his penis between her reddened buttocks, and pushed. She screamed in a way I've honestly never heard before. It was shrill, unfiltered, and drawn-out sounding supremely pained, but with a joyous quiver strained out at the very end. It sounded so monumentally...slutty. I had to cover my ears to make it bearable. 

I saw Evander cautiously pause, giving her enough time to adjust, and when her initial tantrum died down, he again pressed at the drum of her sphincter. There was an audible 'pop' as his head breached her ring. She let out another long, pitiful screech. Clearly startled, she attempted to crawl out from under him, but he pinned her wrists to the bed with his full upper weight. He shoved deeper. I covered my ears again, her muffled howling becoming desperate-sounding. "Dad! Oh god, my tushy hurts—" she yelled as he drove inch after inch forward, his extreme girth prying her anus beyond its natural capacity. Like a stake piercing virgin snow, his dark lumber splayed her ivory ass again and again, louder each time her entered her. Tired of covering my ears, I resumed masturbating feverishly, coming close to climaxing. My little girlcock danced messily in my fingers. His grand entrance now established, he began to sodomize her from a distance. He continued to poke a few inches back and forth, and then accelerated until a good portion of his penis began to disappear into her poor little backside. Her screams peaked with every thrust as he masterfully ascended and plunged into her tortured teenage rectum. I envied her in that moment, even knowing I couldn't realistically withstand her treatment. It turns out neither could she, for very long. When Evander gripped her narrow thighs and rammed into her more forcefully, I saw his penis compress slightly. Throwing her head back, she bawled like a ragged animal. "D-dad, please! That's too deep! I'm gonna—" 

Evander ignored her, cramming his outsize manhood as deep as it could fit, which was still barely halfway in. His large shadowy balls swung back and forth as he mercilessly pummeled her squirming teen ass. 

For a few more seconds he repeatedly ravaged her filth tunnel. Her whorish caterwauling was beginning to sound like nails on a chalkboard. He then paused. He breathed deeply. Her gaunt body still convulsed under him as he remained still. "Hmm," he said, his eyebrow raising. 

"What is it?" I asked, almost frustrated at the break in action, as I was so close to orgasm. "She's...dirty," he said. "I can feel it. Packed pretty solid up here. I should put on a condom," he said. 

I gasped, remembering how much she struggled to "go" when we were in the bathroom. This nasty little detail somehow struck me as my own fault, as nonsensical as that was. Almost on cue, she swung her head around, her face a portrait of anxiety. "Dad! Wait! Y-you're making me have to..."

 I'm making you have to what, Jessi?" He asked calmly, still planted firmly up her butt. 

"Y-you're making me have to...go! N-number two..." she burbled, her voice hoarse and weak. "What's that, Jessi?" Evander replied, jabbing her with a sudden buck of his hips. "Ow! Daddy, I...I said...you're making me have to...poop..." "Is that so?" "Please, you're too long! I need to stop, It's an emergency!" "Well she did say she was constipated, didn't she? Maybe we've found a cure. Deep plumbing," he said with another cruel stab into her ass. "Forget the condom, Abi. Just go get those weird underwear she puts on, and I mean right now." My sexual agitation had me totally vexed at this point. I got up and ran to the living room to get her discarded undies, then threw them at her. 

They bounced off her back and landed next to her on the bed. "There you go, sis. Put your shit-shorts on, you creepy little anal whore," I barked from some feral place in the back of my psyche. Evander looked back at me grinningly. He loved it when I lashed out. Groaning in misery, she grabbed the disposables, and, with Evander still inside of her, slipped her feet through its leg holes. She then slide it up her legs to the beginning of her ass. Finally reaching his penis, she looked back at him and nodded. "Dad...sister Abi...I'm...ready," she said. He nodded back, then slowly withdrew himself, uncorking her sphincter. "Oh god, I can't stop it..i-it's all coming...it's..." she said quiveringly as she struggled to stand up. "It's coming!" The minute she stood up by her bedside, she began to shit herself profusely. The noises I'd previewed earlier were nothing compared to the full-on sound of urgent and massive expulsion happening right in front of us. The deluge of hot waste quickly filled up her underwear, dripping down her legs and falling to her mattress in vile, runny glops. She hung her head in shame, her nipples standing on edge. "I'm sorry, dad!" she said fretfully. "Oww, it hurts!" 
 Me and Evander stood there in awe, watching this girl's underwear sag well past overflow. It must have been weeks of shit packed up her colon. Weeks of caked filth that, apparently, simply took a very long penis to stir free. Finally finished with her volcanic eruption, Jessi raised her head and looked at us, almost as if she were about to faint. She sounded drugged. "Dad...sister...I...love you..." Me and Evander looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. I backed away to the door, the stink filling her room now so extreme that I thought I might lose my lunch. I needed fresh air and a long shower, fast. "Why don't you go clean up now, Jessi," Evander said, trying to change the subject. I could tell that he didn't enjoy the sight or smell of this girl right now either. We're both kinky, but not that kind of kinky. "You don't love me, dad?" she said, taking a step closer, the solid waste in her underwear sloshing around as she moved. She looked at him with tender, expectant eyes. "I..." he started, then looked at me. 

"You don't love me?" she repeated, sounding hurt. "Sister, do you love me?" I was at a loss for words. We could play along, yes, but this girl didn't seem like she was dialing her emotions in at all. One rule me and Evander agreed on before we got into this "cuckqueaning" play is that he'd never use loving words with other women. It never crossed my mind that this rule would come back at me. It seemed so easy and even natural to say "yes" to her, but at the same time, it was crossing an uncomfortable boundary. Especially because it would be a lie. "We...both like you very much, Jessi," Evander said, valiantly enduring the odor while saving me some face. "We really do, Jessi. We liked playing with you. But It's late now. You should go to bed." Jessi's eyes, already bleary from the passions of the evening, once again washed over with tears. "You don't love me?" she said almost forcefully. "You do love me, don't you? I know you do. Fathers always love their daughters...and big sisters always love their little sisters, even when they fight..." "Jessi, you're 18 years old," I reminded her in an attempt to break whatever fantasy there may have been. "You're an adult. We're virtually strangers. It's not fair of you to demand emotions from us that we cannot have for you," I finished, suddenly feeling guilty that I might have ruined some well-played act in Evander's "show." 
 
It turns out all I did was speak the truth. Jessi became very upset. "But none of my daddies love me! Why don't they love me? They all come to visit, and I get so excited to have them over...but they just use my butthole, and then they leave...all of them. Please dad, I know you love me deep down!" "Whoa, girl. Calm down," Evander started, holding his hand up. Jessi's voice just got louder.

 "Dad, you don't understand! I want to come live with you, and big sister Abi...I don't want to live with my stupid mother anymore! I hate it! I don't need to go to 13th grade!"

 "13th grade?" I said, folding my arms incredulously. 

"Yeah..." she said, sniffling. "I'm going to be in 13th grade next year. But I don't wanna be in school any more. I want to live with you and dad, forever and ever." "Honey, there's no 13th grade," I said, holding my breath as I walked up to touch her shoulder. I began to realize how damaged this girl's psyche seemed to be. "What did your mother tell you?" "Mom said there are 25 grades." 
 "Your mother is lying to you, Jessi. What school do you go to?" "Um...I'm home-schooled," she said, wiping the tears from her ruddy face. "I've never been in a normal school. Mom won't let me have friends or anything like that." "Your mother is a very sick woman," I said plainly. "We can't take you home with us, Jessi, but you're old enough to make your own choices now. If you want to talk about—" "I don't wanna talk about anything!" she yelled, stomping her feet on the floor. "Dad loves me, you love me, and I know you do! You're just afraid to say it because you think mom will be mad! Well I want to tell her the truth. I want her to know that I'm leaving with you, forever!" "Um. Maybe we should go," I whispered to Evander, slipping my sandals back on and grabbing my hat. "That sounds like a good idea," he replied, backing a few feet away from the filth-covered girl in front of us. Jessi looked at us, a nervous tick starting up on her face. God only knows what kinds of emotions were raging within her, but she looked almost hysterical. I swiftly went into the living room to gather our things. Jessi followed me with heavy feet. "Where are you going, big sister?"

"Jessi, we have to go now."

"Why, Abi?" "Because," I said, looking back at Evander as I hastily tossed his pants over to him, "that's the way it is." I hoisted our suitcases, bringing them to the doorway. "But, WHY?" she shouted with a hint of that shrill Nassau drawl appearing in her tone again. I suddenly remembered all the reasons why I originally didn't like her. For one, she seemed more like her mother than maybe she even realized. 

I mentally prepared myself for the worst. She was waving her hands aggressively now, and seemed to be driven by some irrational compulsion. Where I come from, you don't get up in someone's face like that unless you're ready to fight. At 5 feet tall, I may not look too tough, but there's a lot most people don't know about me... As a warning, I give her another hard look. She paused, blinking quickly, but in her throes she didn't seem to possess enough mental clarity to process it. She continued to hover over me, hyperventilating. Annoyed, I looked over at my lover. "Evander, are you ready?" I asked. He was moving a little too slowly for my liking, though this wasn't unusual. Mr. casual as always. He nodded as he slipped on his shirt and stepped into his sandals. With virtually no sign of strain, and even sporting his trademark grin, he patted Jessi on the shoulder and placed his cob hat on her head. "Here's a memento for your trouble, babe." But...daddy...I love you..." she started, but he brushed by her, escaping her grasp. "Haha. Sorry it didn't work out, girl," he said, checking his pants to make sure her filth hadn't smudged him. "Tell your mother we said thanks. Look at it this way—at least you got the house to yourself for the rest of the weekend." 
"NO!" She said, ambling towards us quickly. "Don't leave me alone!" "Alright, let's split," Evander he said to me, taking the suitcases out of my hand. I quickly swung the front door open. The night air greeted us, salty and fresh, a welcome respite from that unforgettable stench of feces building inside the house. 

We both made a beeline for the main road with a ravenous Jessi in hot pursuit. Though she came narrowly close to tackling me, the spiky cobblestones stabbed her bare feet, causing her to stumble and finally collapse behind us. B-Day Ch. 05 My heart sank a moment, looking back at her naked, soiled body crumpled up in a ball on the ground, her cries echoing down the road. I fought the urge to turn back. We ducked into a hotel along the main strip and checked in for the night. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep. I was supremely tired. Tired of failing my beautiful man, tired of resorting to these bizarre methods just to address my glaring sexual deficiency. It would be another night where I fell asleep in his loving, accepting arms, feeling as if I didn't deserve him. I knew he found our trip novel, and even amusing...but it wasn't a B-Day. I wanted him to have his true anal conquest at least once. Here in the U.S., I've heard people sometimes say "three strikes, you're out." I know this to be a baseball term, of course, but it applies elsewhere. Baseball isn't big in Burma, at least back when I lived there. But a game called chinlone is. 

In chinlone, the team has no opponent except gravity. Yes, there are soloists, and even stars in the game of chinlone. And it is an extremely physical sport. But the ultimate goal of the game is not to shame or best one's peers. The purpose, I believe, is greater: to keep the ball in the air for as long as possible. That's it. The fancy moves deployed are all ultimately intended to serve this goal. If the ball drops, the game ends for all players. If the performance is weak, the time cut short, everyone loses. Every spectator, every team member. No one wants the ball to drop. That is how I came to view these B-Days. In order for them to work, all three of us—me, Evander, and our chosen third party—need to work to keep the ball in the air. 

I knew Evander did his job. I did the best to do mine. And my only regret was that, in this delicate balance, we had drafted the wrong partner. This, I feel, was my "second strike". Allowing this to happen. Not speaking up when I first saw Jessi's photo in his email and not voicing my opinion that the situation looked shady. And that he could do better. I needed to find a perfect team mate for us. To keep the ball in the air. To keep our relationship vital. 

Next time I would. I told myself this with absolute resolve. No more excuses. Next time. 

To be continued... B-Day Ch. 06 By Friday afternoon, so many head shots had passed over my desk that they began to merge as a composite in my mind. One big, dull blur. Granted, I was a bit burnt out from the work week. But the simple fact was that, on any given day, none of those faces would have stood out to me. Most of the women were attractive, yes, but vaguely so. We needed someone distinct. Someone memorable. Exhausted, I flipped open the last folio. More of the same: an umpteenth lady delivering "edgy" affectations with the arch of a trimmed eyebrow and the curl of a glossed lip. So unconvincing. So...boring. Take that back to LA, gal. I took a deep breath and flipped the page. A bloodless-looking girl with a "deer-in-headlights" expression. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd been forced to model at gunpoint (and given the state of the industry, that may not have been far from the truth). Maybe she'd be a good non-speaking extra in an indie flick, but that's about it. I thumbed through a dozen more photographs of equal mundanity. I started to lose faith. Soon there was only one more picture left in the folder. If this girl didn't fit the casting bill, I had nothing but more deliberation to look forward to come Monday. Opening my eyes, a joyous peep immediately escaped my lips. I immediately knew I'd found the one. The timing of her appearance seemed almost uncanny. Call it fate, call it dumb luck, I didn't care. This was exactly the kind of closure I needed before the weekend. Her visage was immediately arresting. Her complexion was as deep could be—nearly obsidian in shade, yet warm. Her wide, deep set eyes seemed to leap forward from her smooth oval face. Her hair was gloriously billowy, falling in downy coils. Her expression was unaffected and placid. This picture exuded such a captivating energy—knowing, yet innocent. And I loved the natural hair! Go girl! The only other time I'd been so viscerally taken at a single glance was when I'd first laid eyes on Evander. And maybe my enthusiasm now was partially the product of a subtle predilection he'd unlocked within me. As I looked over this girl's photo longer, I realized this might be quite true. She looked so similar to him in a strange way, age and gender aside. They could almost be related. "We got it!" I said aloud, springing up from my desk and almost skipping down the hall to the senior casting director's office. In a matter of seconds, the one-sheet was laid out across my boss's desk. "Hmm," Ms. Zentner creaked as she squinted and frowned severely. I knew this was a bad sign. She was normally blank of expression, unless she disapproved of something, in which case her lips drooped forbiddingly as they did now. "This girl doesn't seem like an appropriate spokesperson for our brand," she said, pointing to her attached resume. "She's got virtually no work history, for one." I couldn't argue with that. The girl's resume was strangely light on details; she did some fashion modeling work for a few obscure clients, and a voice-over for a radio spot some years ago, but not much else. Still, she was young, and the industry is hard to break into. I wanted to give her a chance. "I know, Ms. Zentner. Trust me, I understand your cautiousness. But I really think we should at least interview her. You know my intuitions are usually reliable...we cast Maryann Sherver as the last Clairvisia spokeswoman on a whim, and she went over really well, remember?" Ms. Zentner turned her head and looked at me with those same squinting eyes. Her thin, salmon-pink lips pursed tightly. She then pointed at something on the resume I had merely glossed over. "But Maryann had experience. Look, there's a 4-year gap in this girl's work history," she said, tapping the paper aggressively with her bony finger. "She could've been going to college," I said, feeling the sudden urge to defend this girl I hadn't yet even met. I hated how suspicious and conservative Ms. Zentner was when it came to these things. "Didn't seem to land her a degree, unless it's one she forgot to mention," she snapped back. "But, Ms. Zentner—"

"We keep our information transparent, Abigail. That's part of our company's identity, our ethos. If we hire a totally green spokesperson, word will get out, and that'll make us look desperate. And if she flops, that'll reflect on us even more poorly. Too risky. You seriously couldn't find anyone else?" I shook my head. I figured one tacit reason for Ms. Zentner's reluctance was the girl's look. Her purported physical attributes were quite unexpected. I pored over them again. -------------------- -------------------- Name: Monette Armao-Jones Age: 22 Height: 5' 11" Weight: 128 lbs. Bust: 34" Waist: 27" Hips: 53" Cup: EE Dress: 9 Shoe: 7.0 Hair Color: Black Hair Length: Medium Eye Color: Brown Ethnicity: Other Language(s): English, Portuguese Skills: Modeling, acting, singing -------------------- -------------------- Honestly, no other girl who applied for this position even came close to those numbers. They almost seemed unreal. I began to wonder if she knew the proper way to take measurements (this is a rampant problem in the industry). And while it wouldn't have made much sense for her to exaggerate—she wasn't applying for a job at Hooters, after all—that didn't seem entirely out of the question. Tall and chesty was one thing, but the astronomical 26-inch spread between her waist and her hips? Definitely another. I decided to try withholding my skepticism. If the reality of her physique came anywhere close to those dimensions, then it would take a lot of work to de-emphasize it. My main fear was that Monette was frankly be too sexy and unique-looking for such a boring product. This was something I sensed drove Zentner's reluctance as well. We were conducting a campaign for pimple cream, after all. We needed a girl who was relatable and imperfect, not someone possessing otherworldly beauty. We needed someone who would compliment our product rather than draw attention away from it. But still, that look in her photo commanded me to petition in her favor. "Ms Zentner, you have a point. But risk-taking IS part of our company's identity. We took a risk with that PETA spot. We took a risk casting a cancer survivor in our last nightlife campaign. But those worked out, didn't they?" "Perhaps Abi, but—" "We're not afraid to challenge, even polarize. That's also part of our ethos, don't you think? So we shouldn't back away now," I said, trying to sound as convincing as possible. Ms. Zentner paused, shaking her head silently, then standing up and handing me Monette's folder back to me. "Alright, look. This is on you, Abi. I don't think this is the best idea, but do what you need to do. Just don't forget that we have to close this casting decision by Monday afternoon," she said, flicking off her desk lamp and walking to the door. In the darkness, her body looked more feeble and hunched than I'd realized. She had been in this business much longer than me. It occurred to me that I should be taking her warning seriously, seeing as she'd been in the business for ages and made a good name for herself. But this was a new age. She hired me to get a fresh perspective, didn't she? This wasn't the 70's anymore, and she knew it. I had to go with my gut. "I won't fail you, Ms. Zentner!" I said, walking past her swiftly and waving goodnight. I heard her grumble to herself as she locked her door behind me and walked in the opposite direction down the hall towards the elevator. 4:53 pm. I would make the call and then clock out. Simple and easy. I dialed the phone number on Monette's resume as I stood in my office, my heart beating faster than it should for what was a relatively mundane job duty. But I knew something about this girl was special. And, though I try to maintain a professional mindset while on the job, I couldn't help but admit to myself that calling her made me slightly aroused. The phone rang a few times, and finally she answered. "Hello?" she said, her voice soft and squeaky. "Hello, Monette Armao-Jones? This is Abigail Khaing from Reese-Vinham Merging Markets. Is this a good time to call?" "Oh...wow. Yeah, now's perfect," She said, her timid, high-registered voice taking me by surprise. It didn't quite seem to match what her photo had me anticipating—I imagined she'd have some kind of smoky, sensual tone—but this curveball only made her more compelling. "Great. Monette, we received your application for our casting call recently, and we're interested in having you come in for an interview," I said as I paced around my cramped office. "How does Monday, 9:15 am work for you?" Once back home, I quickly dropped my things and joined Evander on the couch. He sat upright, and I lay by his side with my head on his lap. It was a muggy evening, so I unbuttoned my white blouse halfway to ventilate myself. We were both exhausted from the demands of the day. I pressed my ear to his stomach, feeling the ripples of sinew beneath his t-shirt. It was good to connect with my lover again. I needed it. "Hmm. Your day must have been almost as long as mine," he said with a breathy laugh, patting me on the forehead. I looked up, his chiseled face momentarily eclipsed by the mug of tea he raised to his lips. "Yeah, today was rough," I said, slinging my legs over the edge of the couch and kicking off my heels. Suddenly my calves rubbed against that scratchy spot on the armrest where Mariko had left a stain months ago. I'd never quite managed to scrub it off completely. My mind briefly exploded back to that time. The pungent scents and cutting words, and ultimately the failure. And then I thought of our Fire Island trip, with all the weirdness and unwanted drama that came with it. Evander's the model of patience, but he's human. Everybody has a limit, and I feared my time was running out. My procrastination and reluctance didn't help, and now my new job now played a role. It was rewarding work, but it was also hard and consuming. Adding to the guilt, I probably wouldn't have even landed that job if it weren't for Evander's help. That MBA I was riding on didn't come cheap. Even though a good quarter of his paycheck went straight to my bursars for three years, he asked for nothing in return. Well, nothing except that elusive "B" which I had yet to properly deliver to him. Would my next attempt be my last chance? My "strike out"? I knew he could easily drop me for a better woman. At least that's how I felt, especially now. My anxiety skyrocketed as I lay there contemplating just how close to the edge I was getting. "Rough day, Abi?" Evander asked, sensing my panic. He stroked my temples a moment, then paused, looking at me curiously. He has this keen way of reading me. I could see the glimmer of suspicion in his eyes, even as his smile remained. Thinking it best not to open up that looming subject, I wormed my way out of his grasp and sat up abruptly. "Oh! I forgot to tell you. I should show you the girl we're interviewing next week, I'm almost positive she'll be perfect for the Clairvisia skin care line," I said, dashing over to the portfolio case I had leaning against the living room doorway. Evander blinked. "Uh. Is that so? Sounds like good news. I remember you were bugging out trying to find the right girl..." "Just look," I said, grabbing my portfolio case and dropping it on the couch next to him. "Open it up." I heard him unzip the large floppy case. Then he paused, and I heard him push air out through his nostrils. "Um," he started, his voice full of what sounded like mounting amusement. "What?" "She's...she looks very familiar," he said slowly, flipping the page of her portfolio to read her bio and figures. "Very familiar..." Finding this a curious response, I turned to him. I clutched the sides of my skirt nervously. "Well Abi. I'm not 100% sure, but...I think this is Majika Starr," he said, looking up at me with a wide grin. I peered into his magnetic eyes uncomprehendingly, wanting to understand. "Who is that?" I asked. He sat leaned forward on the couch, staring at her portfolio for a few more seconds, then shaking his head. "Damn. I'm almost positive it's her. Measurements even look dead on," he said, standing up and handing me back the papers. "I want a second opinion, though. Hold on," he said as he dug into the pocket of his khaki shorts and retrieved his cell phone. He tapped on it a moment, then leaned over so that we could both see the screen. My eyes widened when I saw what he was talking about. It was a porn site. To be continued... B-Day Ch. 07 I felt the faint booming of a subway train. It hurtled across the nearby bridge, narrowly grazing the far end of my office as it did reliably about five times every hour. In every instance, its arrival caused my desk and shelves to vibrate and hum. This was simply the way things were built. When I first began working at Reese-Vinham M.M., these interruptions startled me. But I eventually came to not only expect them, but enjoy them. Somehow these small tremors that filled my office gave me a concept of motion, especially in those moments when everything felt too still, too quiet. I heard a ring on my landline. I picked up quickly. "Hello?" "Ms. Khaing, uh. You have a 9:15 appointment with a miss, uh, Armao-Jones?" said a mumbly front desk guard. "Yes, send her right up," I said, my pulse quickening. I placed the phone back on the receiver and stared out the window. It was bright and cloudless, but for some reason I didn't want it to be. My mind was completely scattered. Two seemingly disparate concerns—one professional, one deeply personal—had coalesced last night in the lurid glow of Evander's phone. I had to give this just one try. It would be risky, but my desperation was at an all-time high. This could be a golden opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. I had to give it a try, no matter what. I swayed nervously back and forth in my seat, digging my fingernails into the corky underside of my desk. I'd dressed a bit more revealingly than I usually do, but within reason: patent leather peep-toes, a black skirt cut 2 inches above the knee, and a sheer red blouse with braided strings that caged my subtly hiked-up cleavage. My dark hair was clipped tightly to my head. And thanks to our company's recent YSL sponsorship, my lips were a darker shade of red. I heard a knock at my door. "Come in," I said, trying to sound as relaxed as possible. Monette walked in. Her figure was nothing short of Junoesque, and even a fleeting glance could confirm her previously reported dimensions were, if anything, underestimations. But it was her penetrating eyes that took me off guard. They immediately held my attention hostage. As our eyes met, I felt language slip away from me, as if my brain had been scrubbed free of pretense. I was struck truly speechless. I felt something dark and sensual rise deep within me, moistening at my centre. "Ms...King?" she said with an innocent smile on her immaculate ebony face.

I shook out of my daze, hoping I hadn't been staring too long. "Oh! That's Khaing, not King. You must be Monette," I said, standing up and blinking rapidly. I came around the side of my desk, feeling her tower over me by nearly a foot, and extended my hand.

"Yes, that's me!" she responded in a bubbly voice, her breath smelling of fresh mint. She meekly extended her hand, her shake surprisingly dainty—even a bit weak. I could tell that, despite her imposing looks, she was quite shy. "Sorry I mispronounced your name." "It's not a problem," I assured her a bit distractedly. My eyes fell a moment, and I noticed the ankle tattoo she had. It was a tiny black star with some kind of script writing around it. Against her deeply dusky skin, it would be easy to miss from farther away. But at this proximity, it was crystal clear—and very telling. The girl in the porn video I saw had the same tattoo, in the very same place. I was almost certain it was the same person now. She was dressed fairly conservatively, with a simple cream-white sweater, roomy black slacks and suede loafers. A folder was tucked under her arm, and she clutched a small burlap handbag. She wore no jewelry, and sported no makeup. Not that she needed any. Despite her show-stopping curvaceousness, I would have never figured her for an adult film star if I hadn't already been tipped off. I was insanely curious. And I felt slightly intoxicated just standing before her. The nasty video scenes I witnessed over the weekend darted through my mind. But it wasn't time to swoon. Not yet. I had a job to do. "Well, please, have a seat," I said, releasing her hand and walking over to my desk and sitting back down. Monette placed her things by her side, seeming to rifle a bit with her bag before placing it down with an unusual amount of care. She then sat down in the chair I had propped before me. She gazed around my room curiously. I smiled at her, and she returned with a demure lift of her heart-shaped lips. "So! Tell me about yourself," I said, crossing my legs and easing back in my seat.

She eagerly jumped into a well-rehearsed rigamarole. Some of it was easily ignorable filler, but other details stuck in my mind. I learned that she used to sing in a gospel choir; that her favorite actress was Dorothy Dandridge, and her favorite model was Ajuma Nasenyana; that she grew up in a bilingual household because of her Brazilian godmother; and that she'd done more voice-over work since she'd sent her resume to me (though I hadn't heard of any of the clients). 
I also learned that she grew up in Fort Wayne, which actually sparked an unexpected bit of extra informal conversation, as I'd lived there as a stopgap between Burma and Harlem for 2 years. I opened up to her as we chatted about our former lives in Indiana. Hers was much more detailed than mine, but we found intersections, points of reference that made us comfortable around one another. I told her I now lived in Harlem, which didn't phase her. She told me she commuted from Patterson, where she lived with other two roommates who were also aspiring models (I could only imagine the cat fights!). We were hitting it off swimmingly. But I had a big bomb to drop, and I had to do it now. "So...Monette. I noticed you have a little tattoo on your foot. What does that say?" "Oh I'm sorry, miss! I know it's not very professional to have that exposed—" I laughed. "No, Monette, that's not a problem at all. We're quite casual here, if you haven't noticed. I was just curious, is all." "Oh. Well, it says...'magical...star.' I mean it's nothing important, just thought it was cool, haha." 

I nodded my head. "I see. Monette, I'll be honest. I would normally be inclined to hire you right here and now, but there's something one of my supervisors brought to my attention that gave me a bit of pause." "Oh," she replied, blinking cluelessly. "...this four-year gap here in your work history. Is there a reason for that?" She feigned unknowingness, her hands rubbing nervously against her broad thighs as she sat upright. "Oh. I was traveling abroad during part of that time," she said in yet another calculated burst. I wondered if that was the line she'd been feeding everyone she interviewed for. "I see. Where did you go?" I asked, smirking. She hesitated, her eyes dodging around before dropping to my chin. "Um, I went to Europe, you know...France, London, etc." she said unconvincingly. "I did some modeling work out there, and um, some networking and stuff. I just needed to get out for a while, but now I'm refreshed and glad to be back!" she said, raising her eyes to mine a moment only to look away again nervously. My heart began to race. I needed to get this over with. "Alright. Monette, I'd like to believe that. But I just need to know. You wouldn't happen to have done anything else of note during that four-year period...right?" She let out a tight-lipped gasp, nervously hooking a foot behind her calf. She took a deep breath, then fell silent. Her eyes fell to the floor. "Um. Monette?" I repeated, leaning forward over my desk. "What?" she said, looking out the window listlessly. I could tell she was a bit irked, so I tried to tread lightly. I leaned back in my seat and gauged my tone. "I'm sorry, honey. Is there something wrong?" I said as politely as I could. 

She looked up at me finally, and our eyes met again. I tensed up. "No. Nothing's wrong," she said, conjuring up an unconvincing poker-face. "Okay," I said, feeling the awkwardness fill the office like poison gas. I needed to move things along, quick. "Well, Monette. Like I said, I would love to cast you. But things are down to the wire here. Let's just say that, given that...gap in your resume, I might have problems pushing you through casting. Clairvisia's image is wholesome and family-friendly. We partner with charity initiatives..." "But..." Monette began, sitting up in her seat, "Ms. Khaing, I really would like the opportunity," she said, breaking her short-lived deadpan with an almost pleading tone."I mean, I really need this right now! I'll do anything to get this position...I know this isn't any of your concern, Ms. Khaing, but...I'm really struggling right now, and a gig like this could really help me." Taken a bit by surprise, I looked her up and down and folded my arms. Now I knew that I had her. And in a way, she had me too. I was a bit moved by her sudden display of desperation, remembering what it was like only a few months years ago when I was looking for work. "Okay, Monette. I just need you to know a few things. For one, Clairvisia is launching a full-fledged, transformative new campaign. Our goal is for the Clairvisia Girl to become iconic, like the Progressive Insurance girl. If we achieve this—and all projections forecast that we will—you could be employed with us almost exclusively for many years to come. We'd develop an entire concerted sales pitch based on you and your likeness. Everyone would recognize you on the street. You'd be a bit of a...star, really." I saw the girl's sizable chest heave in anticipation, her eyes narrowing as she stared blankly out the window. "Monette?" I asked, trying to bring her back into the conversation. "What?" I slowly stood up from my desk and ventured to walk over to her. I put my hand on her shoulder. "Monette, what else did you do during that period of time? Did you make any...movies?" She raised her head, peering into my eyes searchingly, then slowly nodded. "H-How did you know?" "We have our methods," I said. I felt douchey using the "royal we," but it helped keep a safer distance between me and the line of inquiry, or at least I told myself that. "I-I was that...way...but I'm not anymore..." she stuttered. "What's that? Honey, it's okay. It's okay. I understand we're talking about the past. But it's a very recent past, isn't it? Your last film was released earlier this month, wasn't it?" "Oh god," she said, standing up. I felt my hand slip from her. "Ms. Khaing, I know my past is kind of crazy, but it's not like that now. I promise," she said, stepping away from me. "I cut my ties with that recently. But stuff still gets out there, and now no one will hire me because of it. I just kind of fell into it...I never thought it would be my life. Don't judge me by it, please..." I took a step closer to her, trying to console her the way Evander consoles me when I'm emotional. I spoke in a soft yet unpatronizing tone, touching her hand gently.

"Monette, trust me. I am the last person to judge you for your life choices. In fact...it endears me to you." "What?" she said, looking surprised. I looked around, then walked over to lock my door. Turning back to her, I lowered my voice to a whisper. "Yes, Monette. You see, I have my own secrets. I'll tell you one. My boyfriend is...a fan of yours. And after he showed me some of your videos, I became one too," I said, surprised that I managed to say those words with some semblance of professionalism still intact. I clamped down on my tongue and waited for the potential backlash. "Oh..." she said, seeming supremely unsure of herself, but intrigued. A small smile returned to her face, with an almost unbelieving raise of her forehead. "You uh, like that kind of stuff?" I paused to consider my words carefully. "Well, you're clearly very talented, Monette. The way you—I mean the way Majika Starr moves on camera is really quite inspiring." She tittered nervously. She felt so unlike the down-and-dirty vixen I watched the other night that connecting the two in my mind was difficult. "Thanks..." she said, looking me up and down in disbelief and biting her lip. "Wait...uh, what did you see?" "A few things," I said, feeling her hand grab mine a little more closely. "What were some of the titles? Oh yes. Dirtpipe Dreams, Backdoor Booty Brigade, Starfish Stretchers 4..." I heard her swallow hard, but she remained still. I began to revel in the raunchiness of the situation now that I sensed she wasn't offended by my show of interest. I continued, flashing her an intentionally strong look. "And a few others...Majika's Mystery Tour, The Technical Virgin Diaries, Fudge Tunnel of Love..." "Oh, wow," she said, covering her toothy smile with her hand bashfully. "Uh, you really like my uh, butt-themed movies then..." "Well, we didn't get to sample your entire oeuvre. I can see you are—I mean, were—fairly prolific. I'm sure your other movies are just as good in their own way," said, leaning forward so that she could see between the subtly parted ropes of my blouse. My breasts are pretty small, but I'd like to believe they're still eye-catching, especially when viewed at such an optimal angle. Her eyes scanned them for a split second, regarding them with what appeared to be interest. "And you even won a few awards for that, didn't you?" I said. "Haha, wow. You really did your homework," Monette said, stepping a smidge closer to me. "Uh, yeah." "Remind me what it was for?" I asked, needing to hear it straight from her mouth, loving the feeling of her hand as her thumb began to trace my outer palm playfully. "Uh, just one...for, um." "Go on, sweetie." "Best Anal Sex Scene at the AVN Awards. But I did get nominated for Orgasmic Analist at XRCO," she said with a weak, almost embarrassed smile. "Well. I guess me and my boyfriend aren't the only ones interested in your butt," I said as lightly as I could. With a tiny hiccup of a laugh, her thumb began to move more rapidly across the side of my hand, her breathing deeper and faster. I ran my other hand up the side of her arm, feeling how smooth and warm she was. "I guess not..." she said, looking down at me. "But. You said my past would be a problem...does that mean I don't get the position?" I ran my manicured fingertips upward across her skin, settling in the pit above her long forearm. Her huge bust rested just inches from my face. Even the loose fit of her sweater couldn't downplay it completely. I looked up at her and responded calmly. "Monette, how about we strike a deal. I will do everything in my power to push you to the casting people. I'm pretty positive I can get your foot in the door as long as you completely downplay your sexuality. Do not mention your past. If someone thinks they recognize you, deny it. By the time your history is uncovered...which unfortunately is inevitable...you'll already be the face of our product, and hopefully the world will be willing to accept your new role." She nodded and started to bounce on the balls of her feet apprehensively. 

"And...what's the other end of the deal?" she asked. I could see goosebumps rise on her flesh. "You do one last scene. For me and my boyfriend." "Oh my God. B-but, Ms. Khaing, I—" "Shh...Monette, it won't be a filmed scene. Think of it as more of an off-off-Broadway kind of thing. Underground. A one-time only thing, no refunds." "You mean like...prostitution?" "Not exactly. We're not paying you. Well...not exactly. I'm just going to ensure you have this Clairvisia gig, is all. You'll still have to work hard as any spokeswoman once you get the position." Monette withdrew from me a moment, looking back out the window as if deep in thought. My heart began to slow to a normal pace. I felt like I'd made my best pitch. Now all I could do was stand back and see if this crazy proposition would float. "Alright," she said, turning to me. "So. Tell me about this boyfriend of yours..." To be continued... B-Day Ch. 08 She arrived promptly at our doorstep at 9:30 pm, wearing the outfit Evander had specified. It was the same one she'd worn in his favorite flick of hers, "Majika's Mystery Tour." A striped wiggle dress clung to her epic hip range like a second skin. Underneath it, fishnet stockings rendezvoused with a frilly black garter belt. Clear-heeled stilettos elevated her to a truly amazonian height. A sheer u-plunge bra buttressed her breasts, creating the effect of a buffet table. Glimmering hoop earrings, Cleopatra eyeliner, and cinnamon lip gloss completed the picture. On most other women, this ensemble would look quite trashy. On her, however, it somehow looked not only complimentary, but strangely dignified, as if she were truly "owning" her recent past. The woman donning these articles truly commanded their collective effect. Not much time was wasted on admiring her garb, however. Especially seeing as how Evander was more turned on than I've ever seen him before. Within 10 minutes of her arrival, he had stripped her down to nothing but her underwear. Similarly, his khakis were down and his shirt had long ago been thrown to the wind. They stood there in the center of our apartment, face to face. I just leaned against the wall and watched. I didn't get quite the same jealous feeling I had with Jessi or Mariko when I saw them kiss. If anything, she was so spellbindingly sexy that I actually envied Evander for being the focus of her attentions! What was more, I found that I felt a strange sense of relief as their sable-colored lips finally met. My losing streak was over. I knew I'd finally found the real deal, and she was every bit as ravenous as I'd hoped. Her steep curves twisted in his hands. Her fingertips dug into the smooth sinew of his biceps. A god and goddess each. Evander responded to her ardor in kind, diving into her with abandon. Usually, with women, he liked to play cat and mouse. To tease them, size them up, figure them out. But with her, he dropped such pretenses. He'd already studied her in private, watching her move in the glow of a computer screen. He knew exactly what he was getting. Releasing her from his embrace, he stood back and looked her up and down. "Go ahead and do your thing, girl," he said with a grin. "Just like you do in the movies." She nodded. Reaching behind her, she slipped her fingers down the back of her shiny black underwear, then shut her eyes. I saw her forearm tense as she slowly pulled. There was a squishing noise as she removed a short, fat plug from her ass. She raised it, showing us both. "I've been keeping my booty hole ready for you. Your girl Abi tells me you've been fiending for it. Is that true?" she said with actorly slyness, slowly walking over to me. As she turned, she made a point of swaying her big butt as if she were on camera. Her big coffee-colored globes jiggled as she moved towards me. "Yes," Evander said with a gentle laugh. "In fact, Abi's a fan too." I blushed, as Monette—or Majika, as we had agreed to call her that night—looked me up and down. I didn't think I was much to look at compared to her. I was dressed in a fairly plain white gown, barefoot, with no underwear. I didn't wear makeup. Unlike our previous B-Day prey, I couldn't dream of trying to dress competitively here. There was no competing with Majika. 
She waved the black plug in front of me. It definitely smelled used, and the scent drove me crazy. It was so wrong, yet so right. Such a bittersweet stink. "Hmm, okay. Since you like my booty so much, why don't you hold onto this for a while, lil' Ms. Khaing?" she said, swiping it across my upper lip, and then placing it in my hand. I eagerly grabbed it, immediately holding it back to my nose. Thank you...Monet—mm, Majika," I mumbled in a daze. Her eyes left me and dropped to Evander's crotch now, noticing a rapid and dramatic development. This was my lover's "trump card." Good looks and a magnetic demeanor were one thing. But his ominous bulge was another. It packed an eyeful, at first coiling around the side of his silk boxers, then raising diagonally. Her eyes widened, then she looked at me. "Huh. Your boyfriend actually looks pretty damn big. You didn't quite mention that," she said. 

I bit my lip, realizing that I must have forgotten to add this very important detail when describing my man to her. Since she didn't ask, I guess I figured it wasn't an issue. She was a porn star, after all, and although I hadn't seen any guys in her videos as big as Evander, some of them were pretty formidable. Now, I know I've said this plenty of times before, but it must be restated: Evander's penis, at virtually any stage of engorgement, is a sight. At full mast, it's nothing short of jaw-dropping. I certainly have dropped my jaw quite low in order to service him. "Jesus. Okay. You ever measure that? I just want to know what I'm getting myself into," she said. As if responding to her words, the bulbous head slinked out from the leg-hole of his underwear, then continued, rising diagonally as his thick shaft strained against the shiny cloth. "Goddamn," she let out in a whisper, looking impressed and a little bit surprised. "Measured? No, I've never measured it," Evander said. "I've never had to. I let the girls take their own notes if they want, haha." His words would have sounded cocky coming from most other men. But for him, he was simply telling the truth. Majika gave him a skeptical look, but as her eyes went back to the rapidly-enlarging monster now freeing itself from his shorts, that look turned into one of awe. "Honestly, though, I never thought I'd see a dick that big again. You sure you were never in the biz?" "Nope. And if I was, I would be behind the camera," Evander said. "You know. Running things." "I see," she said, looking at me a little nervously. Down below, my tender little nib was pulsing and agitated. I shivered as I kept the plug planted under my nose, inhaling its heady aroma like a drug. Then I looked at the two of them and another strange wave of excitement shot up my spine. Majika summoned me with the curl of a finger. I drifted to her, my nipples as stiff as rivets. "Excuse me, Ms. Khaing. I just had one simple question. You know how to lick asshole?" She asked me plainly. The smoky lids of her eyes narrowed to a squint as she looked down at me. "Uh...oh god," I sputtered. "I don't know. I've never done that before..." 

Her earrings jingled as she weaved her neck sassily. "It's real simple. First you get on your knees. That's step one. Go on," she said. I looked at Evander, noting that he had his "game face" on. When he had that look in his eyes, I knew he was bringing out his dramatic side. In these moments, he wasn't just my boyfriend, he was a method actor. And right now he was playing collaborator with this increasingly sharp young girl making waves in our house. "You heard her, Abi. This is the famous Majika Starr, award-winning adult video starlet. You can go online right now and find thousands of people who'd pay top dollar for a webcam show right now. But we're not going to do that. That's cheap. We're not cheap," he said, grabbing a hefty handful of Majika's thick booty and drawing her close to him. He continued. "See, this is special. An in-call with someone of this girl's caliber and reputation is a privilege, Abi. Consider yourself spoiled." Evander advertised gamely. Majika snickered, clearly flattered by his hammy rhetoric. She ran her hand up his arm and let out a creaky moan, then fixed her eyes on me. "That's right, baby. Now be nice and do as I said."

I needed no more persuasion. I dropped to my knees, my gown pooling around me as I looked up at these two towering superiors. My mouth instinctively watered as Majika stepped up to me. She turned on her transparent heels, then stepped out of them, placing her at a level more easy to access. With a swift tug, she pulled down her underwear. Curling her foot, she then kicked them aside. I looked up at perfection. Not only was this the largest ass I'd ever seen on such a thin woman, it was also the most well-sculpted. Each cheek was a pristine, unblemished orb. And these glorious globes didn't look like mere repositories of fat. Hers were fit, protruding with defiant and absolute roundness, and well-toned about the thighs. For me and my lover, this girl was clearly the holy grail. Below this rested her equally splendid sex. I slavered as my eyes dropped to it. Wetness trailed down her rosy slit, collecting in small beads along the grooves of her cocoa-colored labia. If her gorgeous pussy were the focal point of the evening, I would have just as gladly spent all night servicing it. But orders were orders. I dove forward, feeling her supple buttocks surround my face. I grabbed them with both hands. I could barely breathe as I felt them envelop me. I began lapping at her moist crack, heaving as my lungs burned. If being smothered was price I had to pay for such heaven, then go ahead and dig my grave. I could taste the residual lube smeared around her anus as my tongue dodged between her cheeks. Its sweetness blended with the raw funk of her hole, driving me mad. I felt the vibrations of her groaning around my face. I couldn't stop. As I spit-shined her ebony knot to perfection, it began to blossom, dilating wide enough for me to slip my tongue through. As I traveled more deeply, her asshole presented a more overtly shitty flavor, so much so that I would have recoiled if I weren't so aroused. Then again, I thought—what did I expect an anus to taste like? I loved licking her perfect filth hole too much to let anything stop me now. "Damn, girl. I would never know this was new to you. You just love my booty hole, huh?" she said as she grabbed a clump of my hair. She tugged me, pushing her ass back into my face even more oppressively. My world was now flanked by her heavy rear spheres. And all the while, my tongue waxed the inner rim of her deliciously dirty "booty hole". I loved that word, at least when she used it. "Yes, God yes. I need your booty hole, Majika," I grunted with passion, my voice a mere mumble with my face planted between her cheeks. "Hehe. Alright, Ms. Khaing. That's enough for you. Don't want you to get spoiled now," she teased playfully, shoving me away. I telegraphed my desperation through the vine of dirty slobber that briefly hung between us. Looking up at her, I sucked at this last string desperately until it released itself from her asshole and slung back to hit my chin. I licked my chin, then swished my tongue around in my mouth, swallowing every last bit of her taste. The earthy stink lingered on my palate. My salivary glands were running like a faucet. I whined, pathetic and needy, wanting another taste but knowing it wasn't my place to complain. All I needed was the command, and I could drive myself to orgasm in a heartbeat. "I'm ready," she said, walking back over to Evander and easily poking two fingers up her big butt. She did a little shimmy, her breasts wobbling. That was another thing about her I envied: her humongous, almost gravity-defying breasts. The best part was that they looked natural, too. Did this woman have any flaws? It almost boggled my mind. But Evander always saw flaws. Or in his mind, they were more like chinks in the armor. He wasn't intimidated by her looks the way I was. And one thing he quickly seemed to have figured out is the key to Majika's own desire. "Ready for what?" Evander asked, playing it almost too cool for his own good. "Umm..." Majika started, trying to figure him out. "I'm ready for you to fuck my ass." "What makes you think you deserve it?" he interrogated. His boxers still had yet to come off, and he was clearly holding off on his "grand entry" until she worked for it. "Uh...I don't know," she said, looking at him strangely. I could tell she wasn't used to this line of inquiry. She was used to men salivating over the mere thought of touching her. This was something else altogether. "You don't know?" he asked, folding his powerful arms. She grinned. "Uh, hmm. Well I know I deserve to get that position Ms. Khaing wants to give to me..." she said with a bit of a bratty tone. "And I know that without me, you're out of a...willing participant. Your girlfriend can't do what I do. She told me so." Evander moved his mental chess piece in silence and retorted quickly. 

"What's more important, then?" he said, nodding his head. "If I don't have your ass, that would be a disappointment. But my life would go on more or less the same. I have a nice house, a beautiful girlfriend that I may marry one day, a good job that pays well. And there are other opportunities to be had in the future, many more I suspect. Maybe you've got something to fall back on, just like me?" Majika blinked her eyes. "Oh...I mean, this is really important to me. I wasn't saying...it's just, my whole life would be different if I got this gig. I can only live off my savings for so long..." "I know, girl. I know. No need to worry. You should really answer my original question, though. What makes you think you deserve my dick up your ass?" "I...guess I deserve it because I've been a...bad girl?" she said, finally picking up on his cue. "Ah, there you go. Now you sound like a porn star, Majika," he said as he grabbed her, lifting her up in his arms and carrying her to the bedroom. From a distance, I heard him call for me. I got up from my place on the floor, my knees sore and my hair-trigger orgasm hovering just a touch away. I went down the long hall to join them. I already heard the sounds of sex before I reached the door. On the way in, I stepped over his discarded boxers and a discarded Magnum wrapper. I looked over to the bed we share every night. They were on top of it, both naked. Her massive bra was slung across the nightstand. He had her in the doggy position, his hands around her slim waist, inching the first few portions of his gigantic nightstick into her. It seemed that they were perfectly proportioned for one another; her with her abnormally ample backside, him with his almost mythically-proportioned penis. The look of strain on her face made me realize just how little the size of her ass and its hole had in common. "J-Jesus fuckin' Christ!" she shouted as he pushed through her anal ring. I could tell that my drool was simply not enough lube for her, so I ran to the dresser, finding the tube of Pjur we'd bought for the occasion, and tossed it on the bed next to her. "Thank you, babe," she said, forcing a smile as Evander planted himself even deeper inside of her. He picked up the pace, sodomizing Majika authoritatively. "God damn it hurts...slow down baby," she said, grabbing the lube. "Please, I need more lube, I can't take it like this," she begged. Evander nodded in approval, withdrawing a few inches from her, but keeping his hands curled around the fringes of her famous treasured booty. She opened the tube, reaching back and squeezing all of it out over her sweaty crack. She then began smearing it around, first digging into the space where her distended anal ring clutched Evander's wine-bottle penis. She then began sliding back to coat him. He pushed again, slipping back up her greasy butthole. Tiny bubbles formed around the base of his condom as she wrapped her cheeks around him, squeezing tight. "Mmm," he let out, feeling her milk his cock with her well-trained sphincter. Majika buried her face in the bed and a long groan exited her lips. Soon his balls were slapping against her puffy labia. The squelch of her twitching butthole became noisier. I watches as it flexed and strained dramatically, gaping wider and wider with each stab of Evander's colossal endowment. Soon the squelches gave way to loud, bassy farts. Amidst this I could hear our neighbor's front door open and close. I heard the distant clatter of dog paws, and a crying baby. The crinkle of grocery bags. What if we were as audible as they were? Oh god. I didn't want to know. Majika turned her head and looked over at me, her face twisting and scrunching into a devious smile. Lewd-sounding gibberish flew out of her mouth, aimed at me. I looked back at her, and as our eyes met, something in me snapped. This was the longest I'd seen any woman endure his rectal assault, and the first who could take him completely. And that was part of what hit me. She wasn't "enduring" him. She was taking him in, accepting him. Enjoying him. She looked close to orgasm just from anal sex. I should be there, not her! This thought beat around in my mind. I had to do it, no matter the cost. Maybe it was because I was so closed to bursting that I foolishly thought I could take it. But I wanted to try. One last time. Just to see if I'd grown as a woman since the last time I'd tried. I certainly knew a lot more about my sexuality now than I did back then. "Wait," I said, walking over to them.

Evander slowed down the gears of his pelvis, his balls tensing. I looked at Majika through the part in his legs, her dusky breasts dripping sweat as they swung in front of her beautiful face. Then I looked up at my lover, my voice quivering. "Evander," I said, putting one knee on the bed, "It's my turn..." "What do you mean?" my lover said to me, surprised. "It's my turn..." I repeated more confidently, putting both knees on the bed, then turning. I got into the doggy position, then pulled up my gown, exposing my little butt to both him and Majika.

"Abi, we talked about this already. I don't want to hurt—" "It's my turn," I said again, almost in a trance. "Do it. The lube's right there." There was a pregnant silence behind me, then the slow sounds of perfect bodies slinking apart from one another. The bed springs danced and raised as Majika stepped off of the mattress. She walked to the far corner of the room and leaned against the wall. She was drenched in perspiration. She looked at me curiously, and I looked right back at her. I was ready to take her challenge. "Do it, please," I begged. "Fuck my ass." Evander paused. I glanced at him, seeing his thick oak-brown penis stiffen in his hand. I lowered my head again and waited. 

I could feel his eyes scanning my bottom. He'd seen it plenty of times, and I knew he loved seeing it. He always called it his little "peach." But I knew he'd never seen it offered up like this before. This was something different. Something new. "Abi. Are you...sure?" he said tentatively, reaching out with his other hand and stroking my foot. I curled my foot and withdrew it slightly. I didn't want to feel him touch me gently like that now. I didn't want "preparation." I wanted him to take me completely. If this was ultimately going to hurt, I wanted it to be delicious, unapologetic pain. "Yes. No fingers, no toys, no enemas, no condom, no nothing. Just fuck my ass," I said more sharply than I intended, but as always, he immediately understood. He came up behind me. I heard him strip the rubber off and toss it to the floor. He squeezed the remainder of the bottle out into the palm of his hand. "Wait," Majika said, starting towards us. She came over to us, sitting her large dark booty right next to me on the bed. She ran her fingertips down my back, gently scratching me with her long crimson nails. "Your man's quite a challenge, even for me. No need to make this corporal punishment. Let me assist you," she said. She laid flat on her back next to me. Her long body nearly stretched to both ends of the bed, with her feet resting upon the wooden headboard. "Climb on top of me, Ms. Khaing." I did as told, placing my legs on either side of her broad thighs. My gown draped over her stomach. She wormed her way down until our eyes met. Her face was upside down, forcing me to look only into those onyx eyes of hers. I felt myself melting as she peered into my eyes longingly, hungrily. I leaned my head down, and hers instinctively ascended to mine. B-Day Ch. 08 We kissed, her taste impossibly sweet. Her lips were fuller than my own, and yet we locked harmoniously, her hot breath gusting up to the roof of my mouth, and mine down into hers. I was a little worried that my breath still tasted of ass, but she seemed not to care at all, and soon neither did I. She slid back an inch, kissing my neck. Her lipstick smeared and stamped red blotches around my collar. I groaned, and she returned with an equally sincere grumble of lust. I heard Evander strip himself free of the condom. He began tugging his giant bare cock now, the rapid oscillations creating loud, squishy slaps. Majika slid back under me another few inches, past my bunched-up gown, so that her face was against my navel. She ducked her head under the loose fabric and kissed my ribs, then down to my tender belly, making me shiver. She then slid down a few more paces, her breath playing right at my concealed crotch. And then, as her fingers reached to lift the front of my dress, there was the revelation: "Whoa, whoa," she started, staring up at the my twitching girlcock. "Wow." We all paused. I drew the pungent smell of the room into my nostrils and held it, waiting for the verdict. I'd gotten all sorts of reactions from men, but this is the first time I'd ever exposed myself to a woman. "Wait. So you're a guy?" she asked ambiguously. "No," I replied. She looked over at Evander, who merely smiled back at her. "Oh..." she said, the shaking of her head slowing to a halt. She took a deep breath and lowered her voice. "So you're uh. A tranny." "I don't prefer that term." "Um. What...do you prefer?" she asked with a leeriness in her tone. "I'm just a girl," I responded plainly, my defenses heightened. "...Wow." "Is there a problem?" Evander ventured to ask. "No," Majika started slowly, a wrinkle of confusion lingering on her brow. "Just...wow. I mean, this is new to me. You totally had me fooled, though..." she said, peering at my tender little girlcock with newfound curiosity. She pinched it gently between her fingers, inspecting it with a growing smirk. Although I felt on display, I let out a sigh of relief all the same. "Make yourself at home down there, Majika," Evander said, their eyes locking momentarily through my parted legs. "Alright, I guess you learn something new every day. Let's send, um...her...off with a smile," she replied, her fingers finding their way to my small chestnut balls and massaging them gently. With a moan, I arched my back. I felt the cold lube being slathered up my ass crack. There were four hands upon me now—Majika's gripping my thighs from below, and now Evander's gripping them from above, both squeezing, claiming partial ownership, as if my body were being annexed. Then Evander's presence eclipsed hers. His leg raised as be positioned himself, pressing against my slippery puckered hole. I tensed, immediately recalling the pain and humiliation of past attempts. But every time I thought to protest, Majika huffed against my girlcock, or kneaded my balls to distract me. She then lowered her hands, spreading my ass cheeks apart for him. I felt warmth, bulk. Then I felt him push. Hellfire. That's the only way I can describe it. It was worse than anything I'd even imagined. With a single shove, the flared head of his big slippery penis completely collapsed my anus. I shrieked so loud that I felt my vocal chords shred. I slammed my head down into the bedsheets, gnawing at them in utter agony. Something within me—maybe something deeply masochistic?—kept me from protesting outright. I tried to hold my own and just take it like a trooper, but my body was still not having it. I jumped impulsively away, freezing Evander from my inflamed ass. "S-sorry..." I mumbled, my eyes full of tears. "I-It's okay, Abi. Are you okay honey? Maybe we should try this later." Evander said concernedly. "Hold on," Majika said, sliding down further and then craning her head up. "Let's try one more thing." She reached up to clasp Evander's cock with both hands, and then she lifted herself up on her elbows. "Holy..." he blurted as she dove forward, swallowing his shaft deeply. With a gurgle, I heard her unleash a torrent of drool. Then, with a ragged gasp, she withdrew from him, leaving his slippery member dripping with fresh saliva. It sprung up with renewed tumescence. "Just a trick of the trade. Go get her," she rasped, slipping back up underneath me. "Let's see if she can really take it." Astonished at her lack of gag reflex, but still determined to steer my man away from her, I jutted my little ass out provocatively and spread my own cheeks for him. I was tougher than this girl knew. "I can," I said aloud, trying my best to relax my searing asshole. I looked back at him, and forced myself to smile through the pain. I felt his love fill me anew as he returned my gaze and placed a hand on my trembling bottom. He arched forward and pushed against my sphincter in again, then began rocking his hips methodically, his long dripping pole finally breaching my sensitive opening. I almost felt like I had to poop, but the feeling subsided quickly. The intense burning sensation reprised itself, just marginally duller than before. He was barely a quarter of the way into me, and I already felt completely filled—how could he possibly go even a fraction deeper?! And yet, he did, and then another fraction, and another, each thrust poking further into my anguished bowels. I cried into the pillow silently, but did not complain. Majika spanked me again, but I couldn't differentiate it from the pain deep up my butt. I felt Evander plunge again, causing my tiny girlcock to swing with the momentum. I was positive that whatever length he had stuffed up of my rectum already far exceeded that of a normal penis, and there still appeared to be more than half left. I shook my head, banging the bed with my fists, and then looked back at him. "More! Give me everything!" I screamed as I felt my butthole nearly snap. "Fuck me!" My lover grabbed my waist. Then with a forceful motion, he slid his shadowy dick all the way up my honey-tan backside. I screamed again. Almost simultaneously, Majika began sucking on my girlcock. Her lips and swirling tongue felt incredible. Howling with a mixture of extreme pain and unmeasurable pleasure, I rose, my hair flying back, and then rose higher, higher, as if my body were floating. The burning deep in my body shifted into a bizarrely euphoric tingling. I could feel every inch. My body yielded. The pressure ballooned against my thighs. Every punishingly fat, pulsing inch slid in and out of my ass rapidly. I gasped in disbelief as he disappeared inside of me, his balls slapped against my butt cheeks as my sodomy reached a crescendo. "I'm coming, baby. I'm coming, holy—" Evander let out. I called back to him. "Me too, honey! Me...too! God, I-I love it! Come with me!" Majika's tongue slithered over my girlcock again, igniting it. I shut my eyes and saw nothing but light. The lifting sensation turned into a soaring one, and I felt Evander quake behind me as he erupted deep in my colon. My martyred rectum flooded with his hot semen as I twitched and jerked, shouting to the heavens, rising to the most powerful orgasm I'd ever experienced in my life. And that, I am glad to report, was that. All of that happened a year ago. As of this writing, me and my lover are engaged. We're contemplating children—surrogate or adoption, it doesn't matter to me—and of leaving the city. To where, I don't yet know, but maybe someplace less hectic. Although there are days where I miss Burma, I can't go back there. My family doesn't speak to me anymore anyway, and in any case it would be risky and awkward for us to live openly there. Perhaps Thailand would do, if I can convince him to go. He wants to try Canada; boring! Wherever we go, I know it will be the right place. Unlike our past flings, we still see Monette on rare occasion. Not in person, though. Her commercials still pop up from time to time, and when they do it always gives us a chuckle to think of our past connection to her. She never quite reached the iconic status I'd hoped for (this isn't her fault, I think; Clairvisia's campaign got taken over by a different department who frankly didn't know what they were doing). Still, she seems to retain a comfortable c-list celebrity status, and has turned her life around quite a bit from what I've heard. For whatever reason, little was made of her past when it finally became uncovered to the public. Maybe our culture is changing. But me and my lover don't need anyone else anymore. These days, "B-Days" are not as scarce and desperate as they once were. I put my "peach" out at least once a week, sometimes more if I can handle it. I am glad to report that I am nowhere near needing diapers. If anything, I've gained more control over that area. It's now a well-exercised muscle. In return for my gift to him, he spoils me in every conceivable way; cooking for me, spending way too much money on me, doing all the chores before I even get home, and of course sending me to orgasm heaven several times a week. Truth be told, it's as much of a gift for me as it is for him these days. Have I become the freaky "butt girl" my soon-to-be husband always wanted? I believe so. Maybe I'll never quite be a Majika Starr, but I don't need to be. I no longer feel fear when I come home from work and Evander has that bottle of lube prominently displayed on the table, pants around his ankles. I just smile, hit the toilet if I have to, and rendezvous with him in the bedroom. The End.