18 comments/  25909 views/  34 favorites

The Super-Duper Ch. 01

By: MimiRose



June of 2001... The Evening of Graduation Day

"I DARE YOU TO GO UPSTAIRS AND FUCK BIG RHONDA!" 

Tristan could not believe the demand that was spew out of Ethan's mouth. It was so unbelievable that he asked his best friend of seventeen years to repeat himself. Once again, but this time with a taste of sadistic glee, Ethan had repeated his dare to Tristan. "I dare you to fuck Big Rhonda!" he said, before taking a swig from his bottle of Corona, a beverage that he wasn't old enough to buy. He stood in front of the living room's giant bay windows, as he announced his dare.

"You want him to fuck Big Rhonda?" Ethan's brother, Eli, said to him. He was sitting in a giant recliner that was positioned against the wall that was to the right of the windows. A bottle of beer was nestled in between his legs while a burning joint was being held in his right hand. "Man, if you dislike Tristan so much, just tell him, man. You don't have to try to get him killed!" There were a few snickers, in response.

"I can't believe you want him to touch that beast," commented Chelsea. She was reclining on the carpeted floor with her back pressed against the couch.

"Yeah, I can't believe that you want him to touch her," Chelsea's sister, Cassandra chimed in, who was lying a few inches away from her sister.

"Give him another dare," Eugene told Ethan, who sat on an ottoman that was positioned in front of the entertainment system.

"No," Ethan said to Eugene, "it was my turn to announce a dare and that's what I chose. Now, Tristan has to either nut up or shut up."

"So, you're pretty much is condoning him to rape a girl—

"He is not gonna rape her," Maya interjected, as she flipped her long blonde locks over her left shoulder, "that eight foot-tall beast should be lucky that he would touch her. Shit, she should be counting her blessings that Tristan even would allow her to sit at our lunch table."

"Honestly, I would like to see how this shit will turn out," Dante admitted to the group, as he sat in front of the fireplace. The girls booed at him as they threw throw pillows at him. He managed to grab one flying object and throw it towards Cassandra. 

"Thank you, Dante" Ethan said to him, which caused a tidal wave of boos from his friends. "Thank you for your opinion, which is why the dare will remain the same!"

The party game "Truth or Dare" was a game that The Crew had been playing since they were kids. It was the 'go-to' game that they used as a source of entertainment. Thanks to this game, Tristan managed to receive his very first kiss from a girl, at the age of ten. Thanks to 'Truth or Dare'; Tristan received his first orgasmic experience, a hand-job, at the age of thirteen, due to a dare that was given to a classmate by the name of Deborah McCartney. Pretty much, thanks to Truth or Dare, Tristan was able to build up his sexual experience. 

So, it shouldn't have been a surprise for him to have this gauntlet of a dare being thrown at him.

"No, man—

The noise barrier in the living room exploded with the sounds of disappointment from the other members of The Crew. Some of them were booing while others were cackling in laughter. 

The Crew wasn't a gang or the name of an after-school, extra-curricular group. The Crew was a nickname that was given to Tristan and his group of friends by his late father, Demetrius. The Crew has been friends for a very long time; each kid lived in the same neighborhood, from the same affluent community, as well as, was classmates in every private and prestigious school that they attended. There were nine members of The Crew: five guys and four girls. First, there was Tristan Caldwell. He was considered to be the unspoken "leader" of the social circle. Thanks to his good looks, his alpha male demeanor and the fact that he was very talented in the sports department, it was only natural. His leadership status was solidified ever since he was the kid who came from the wealthiest family out of their town. 

If Tristan was the alpha male out of their group, then Ethan had to be his beta. Ethan Montgomery was the level-headed one of the group, as well as, the most stylish one. He was the person out of the Crew whose stylish skills were always copied. He was the one person that everyone would go to when they needed advice and to rant. 

Ethan had a fraternal twin brother named Eli, who was more of the comedic relief of the group. Where Ethan is the calm one, Eli was the wild brother who would do anything to capture an audience. 

Then there was Dante Grant, another life-long member of the group. Dante and his family was the only African-American family that lived in the town Port Ridge, Long Island. His father used to be a professional football player, who was intelligent and business-savvy enough to form several successful businesses, after the end of his sports career. Dante was the member of the group who the "Renaissance Man" out of the bunch. He had the natural gift to be very talented in anything and everything: from sports to music to politics. If Tristan, Ethan or Eli wanted to hear the truth, straight with no chaser, then they would go to Dante. 

The fifth male of the group was the bookworm of the group, Eugene "Genie" Greene. Eugene was Tristan's cousin and his confidant as well. He was intelligent, respected and well-liked by everybody that he's encountered. Due to his good-natured and positive persona, the guys playfully teased him. Whenever when one of the guys doled out a jab, he usually took the hits with dignity or he would come up with a witty comeback. 

If Tristan was considered to be the alpha male of the group, then Maya Hampton was the alpha female. Maya's life was almost parallel to Tristan's: a background of wealth, good looks, well-liked by peers and had a bright future. 

Maya's best friend was Hill Morgan, who happened to be her cousin as well. Hill, like Eugene, was a bookworm. The ability to learn things quicker was the only thing that Hill and Eugene have in common. Where Eugene was kind and caring, Hill was not-so-kind or caring. 

To round out the Crew are the Harper Twins: Cassandra and Chelsea Harper. Unlike Ethan and Eli, the Harper girls were identical and used the "twin shtick" as a method to stand out. Maya only kept them around because they carried out her nefarious plans and plus they always had hot guys chasing after them. 

Tonight, the members of The Crew were celebrating a special occasion. The kids graduated from high school. They all attended The Walcott Academy Prep, a private school that was located in Manhattan, since they were in pre-school, and now, after attending for fourteen years, today was their last day. In honor of their last night as students, they all decided to meet up at Maya's house and throw a small get-together. Maya's parents were out of the country for an entire month and they left Maya with the responsibility to 'hold down the fort' which was a 12-bedroom mansion. For the party, Ethan and Eli managed to pilfer their parents' fully-stocked bar, Maya had sent Hill to retrieve a few baggies of marijuana from her drug contact that lived in the city and Tristan was the one who bought the food. 

It was after a few hours of hanging out in the living room, drinking liquor and smoking weed, when someone brought up the idea of playing "Truth or Dare" for "old time's sake". Another hour of playing the game had flown by, before Ethan had threw out that challenge to Tristan. 

"There's no way in hell that I am touchin' Big Rhonda!" Tristan declared, once the booing had died down. 

"Wait a minute," Dante's voice rang out. "Is that a dare being turned down?" he asked, with feign shock. 

"Come on, man" Eli pleaded, piggy-backing off of Dante's act, "we look up to you, man! You can't back out of a dare. What are the kids going to say? They need a hero!" Eli proceeded to duck out of the way, when Tristan threw a decorative throw pillow at him.

"You mean to tell me that after spending years of doing dumb shit, for the sake of not being labeled a punk, you are not going to perform a dare? Over one little minor thing?" Ethan asked. The sound of Eli guffawing soon filtered the atmosphere. 

"Little?" Eli said, to Ethan. "Big Rhonda could be anything except for little." 

Eli was indeed correct about Big Rhonda. She was a giant of girl. 

Well, not really, but when the majority of the female students of Walcott Academy were under the height of 5'5, and if you were like the size of Rhonda, 5'11 inches tall, of course you are going to be called a giant. Due to also her quiet nature, her propensity of being socially-awkward and the fact that she was from a blue collar-middle class background, Rhonda was not considered to be an intimidating figure. She was a target of students' bullying and mean-spirited pranks instead. Despite not being able to shine during the classroom hours, she was able to burn brightly on a basketball court. With her stature, it was no surprise that she was a formidable power forward on the Walcott Academy's girls' basketball team. During those games, she was accepted as being a Walcott student. 

Unlike Maya, the Harper Twins and Hill, Big Rhonda was not a part of The Crew. She did, however, interact with them on a daily basis, in due to the fact that she had known Hill. Big Rhonda's parents were great friends with Hill's parents. It was Hill's parents, in fact, who pushed Rhonda and her parents to allow her to attend the Walcott Academy, much to the chagrin of their daughter. It was there, at Walcott Academy, where she met the rest of the Crew. Hill's parents also pressured their daughter to include Big Rhonda into her social circle. 

Even though she was in their company, she served as their punching bag, especially for Maya and Hill. Over the three years as a student, the treatment had become worse, once they realized that Big Rhonda was as vicious as a butterfly. Despite being able to fight back, both literally and physically, the brown-skinned giant of a girl, kept silent. 

She was even quiet majority of her duration as a guest at the party. She was invited to the party by Maya and Hill. She reluctantly accepted, mostly from fear and peer-pressure. By the time that the game of "Truth or Dare" started, Rhonda had already gone up to bed in one of the guest bedrooms, after enduring a few hours of snide remarks, insults, as well as, back-handed compliments and practical jokes from the group. As she walked past the festive environment to go upstairs, she didn't notice the look of sympathy on Eugene's face, as she walked by him.

So, in other words, there was no way in the world, Tristan was going to be able to do this task. "No, man I can't—

"No, you mean that you won't do it," Dante interjected.

"You damn right, Dee! We are talking about Big Rhonda here!" Tristan reasoned, "hell no!"

"Man, I would've never thought you were a chicken shit," Eli commented.

"Whatever man," Tristan said, before taking a sip of beer from his cup, "I have a reputation to protect."

"Reputation; what reputation," Ethan asked, "Dude, today was our last day at Walcott. We ain't going to see any of these people until our twentieth reunion. The only people that are going to know about tonight are sitting in this room."

"Yeah, like any of you motherfuckers are going to keep some shit like this a secret," Tristan commented before draining his cup of beer. 

Tired of listening to his friend's bullshit excuses, Ethan decided to throw out the decree. "Hey, Tristan, man I super-duper-triple-double-dog dare you to go upstairs, go to Big Rhonda's room and fuck the shit out of her man!" Ethan announced while feeling proudly. Once again, the living room erupted in cheers. Ethan knew that he had 'up the ante', when he threw in the 'super-duper'.

It's has been a while since any of them heard the 'super-duper-triple-double-dog' dare, in their bouts of playing Truth or Dare. The 'Super-Duper' for short has been a decree that served a tool to persuade a participant into doing a dare. It is pretty much an act of forcing someone to do something, without having to physically force them. The super-duper was also used to determine who was a 'punk' out of their group of friends. 

"Now you have to do it, Tristan, man" Dante reasoned, while finding amusement in the whole situation. "You can't back out now or else you—

"You're a punk," Ethan announced, "Are you a punk, Trist?" 

Tristan sat in the corner seat of the leather sectional and he taken a long draw from his joint. He tried to ignore the stares that he was receiving from his buddies, but it was impossible to drown them out. Tristan didn't want to fuck Big Rhonda, but he didn't want to be perceived as a punk to his friends, especially in front of the boys. Even though it was never said out loud, he knew that the guys considered Tristan to being the Man.

"Or maybe you're afraid that Little Tristan won't be able to join the party?" Ethan quipped. In response, Tristan flipped him the bird. As a reply, Ethan said, "Well maybe that's the problem; you want some cock instead of pussy!" Then the friends broke out in laughter.

"Hey, wait a minute," Maya had shouted over the raucous laughter. In his defense, she said, "I happen to know that Tristan does not have any problems in that department!" 

"Slut," Eli coughed out, which earned him a throw pillow to the face by Maya. 

The conversation shifted away from them momentarily and Maya used the opportunity to shift her position on the couch. She moved closer to Tristan's muscular frame. She pressed her svelte body against Tristan's and was about to nuzzle against his neck, when she spoke into his ear. "But if you do have a problem fucking that wildebeest and you can't get it up, I want you to think about that time when we went to San Padre Island for Spring Break. Do you remember it; you, me and that hot tub?" 

A short flashback ran through his mind and there was a stirring occurring in his pants. He shifted a little in his seat; an action that didn't go unnoticed by Maya. She giggled and said "Glad to be of assistance". She pulled away from him, just in time for the attention to shift back to Tristan. 

"So," Dante announced, "are you going to do the dare or what?"

~oMRo~

Tristan could not believe that he was about to have sex with Big Rhonda, thanks to Ethan's conniving ass. He stood in the second floor corridor and in front of the closed bedroom door. It was a door that led to the lair of where Big Rhonda slept. It was one of the numerous guest bedrooms inside of Maya's home. Willing himself to open the door, Tristan stepped into the dark room and closed the door behind him. 

The bedroom was not as dark as Tristan thought it was going to be. The room had a skylight in which was the full moon decided to shine its bright rays into the bedroom. He stared out in the dimmed room and saw what type of furniture was inside of the bedroom, as well as if anything blocked his way as he walked over to the bed. He noticed that right below the skylight, a queen-sized, canopy-styled bed was positioned. Thanks to the moonlight, the 6'4 teen could make out Big Rhonda's body. She was asleep, on the bed, resting on top of the blankets and was positioned slightly on her left side. He noticed that she used a baggy, white shirt as her pajamas. He thought that Big Rhonda was sporting an 'okay' figure. She wasn't as fat as he believed. 

'Shit, here goes nothing,' his mind groaned. 

He stared down at the sleeping giant, but really wasn't seeing her. He was actually siphoning through his memory bank. He was trying to conjure up memories of sexual conquests from his past, in order to grow an erection. Maya's little tactic from earlier didn't work. He felt the tingling his nuts for a few seconds before it stopped. His dick was still soft. So, now he needed to think of anything sexual in order to achieve an erection. When memories of girls that he fucked didn't work, he thought about scenes from his favorite pornos. When that didn't work, he thought about the posters of women that were hanging on his bedroom's walls at home. When that tactic didn't work, he thought about girls that he knew that were hot. None of his tactics were working because just when his mind began to drift off, horrible thoughts of Big Rhoda would show up. Thoughts of a nude, sweaty, foul-smelling Big Rhonda riding on his cock as she snarled and demand that he provide her with her sexual release entered his mind. Then, whatever stirrings that was there would disappear and his cock would deflate. 

'Come on now, think of something' his mind growled at him. 

His right hand had unfastened his jeans and sought after his dick. Using a crude fashion of lubricating his flaccid member, he applied slow, fluid strokes to his cock, in hopes of stimulating the nerves. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift off. A favorite fantasy of his was conjured up into his mind. The sexual fantasy was an oldie but goodie that was created back when he was in junior high. The fantasy involved a jungle, a feisty jungle native that looked like supermodel Adriana Lima, Tristan and a wrestling match that occurred between them. He was deep into his fantasy, when the feeling of his balls tensing up had snapped him out of his reverie. He realized that he was about to nut. He could still feel his hand slide down the shaft of his now-erect cock.

'My cock is hard,' his brain said in utmost surprise, 'my cock is hard!'

He was about to a celebratory dance, when he realized that he had to fuck Big Rhonda. He felt flaccidity about to creep in. "No, no, no" he chanted in a whisper, "stay hard for me". His hand had gone back to stroking. His other hand began to pull at his clothes, trying to strip out of them. After performing this weird dance for a few minutes, Tristan let go of his prick and quickly stripped out of his jeans, sandals and shirt. 

Tristan first placed his left knee on the mattress. He felt the bed slightly shift under its weight. Soon, he was crawling up the bed, positioned his long body beside hers. The scent of strawberries and the powdery scent of baby lotion greeted his nose. His right hand placed itself on what appeared to be Big Rhonda's thigh. He was surprised to feel her skin was soft and supple. A spike of pleasure had shot through his dick at this discovery. He has taken that to be a sign of good news. Her hand appeared from in front of her to swipe at the offending object that tickled her skin. Once her hand had gone back to its resting place, he resumed. His large hand continued to caress the skin and to massage at the muscle that lay underneath. The sound of a groan had tickled his ears. He knew that it didn't come from him because it was a breathy, feminine groan. His cock jerked in response, before a harsh throbbing begun. After his hand reached the top of her knee, his fingers slipped in the crevice that was between her thighs. He massaged the inner part of her thigh as he drifted further up the apex of her thighs. His fingers felt the heat building up as they reached closer and closer to their destination. Tristan felt his cock become harder when his fingers came in contact of her pussy. His fingertips tingled in excitement at the feel of the warm, soft flesh that was free of underwear and of hair. His fingers stroked at her lower lips and soon felt moisture seep onto his digits. Another groan was heard from the head of the bed, but Tristan could tell that she was still asleep. 

While stroking at her sex, Tristan noticed that she was about to re-position herself, so he still his fingers and waited. She ended up rolling onto her back with her left leg bending at the knee and her right leg extended, laying flat on the mattress. She was completely exposing herself. 

'She's in the perfect position,' Tristan silently mused, before setting himself up in another position.


The Super-Duper Ch. 01



Placing his body in between her opened legs and resting his stomach down on the bed, Tristan lower his mouth onto her eager pussy. His mouth lapped up the cream that her cunt was secreting as his thick tongue explored the hot flesh that was hidden underneath her folds. For Tristan, it was a unique taste, it was tangy sweet taste. Even deep into her act of slumber, her hips started to move as he continued to suck and lick at her pussy. A series of low moans floated down to him and he felt his cock yearn for some gratification. He wanted to alleviate his cock's discomfort, so Tristan grinded his pelvis into the mattress, in slow circles. 

"Oooh, make me cum."

It had come from the top of the bed. The demand was said in a whisper and it was soft and dainty. His eyes floated up Big Rhonda's body to see if she was awake, but he couldn't see her face. The darkness that was in the bedroom had covered her face, as if it was a veil. But he did see one of her hands slip underneath her night-shirt and to her breasts, where it fondled at the pair. Thanks to the moonlight and the skylight, he was able to make out two supple mounds of flesh that were being caress. He watched her slender fingers pinch at her nipples, which protruded out with sexual anticipation. 

"Make me cum," she gasped. 

With each passing second that have gone by, Tristan felt the reservations that he felt of performing the dare, slipping. Tristan, as he continued to fuck her cunt with his lips and tongue, felt his perception about Big Rhonda start to shift. In his eyes, she was no longer repulsive as a leper. With every moan and plead that escaped her lips as she slept, he didn't worry about his dick having performance difficulties. It was so hard that it begun to hurt and he wanted nothing to do but buried deep inside of her pussy until it was satisfied. By the time Big Rhonda's orgasm had run through her body, Tristan was no longer thinking about the Crew, about the party or about the Super-Duper. Now, all Tristan was thinking about was having Big Rhonda's pussy clenching at his rod as he pounded into her. 

"Oh, what-the-fuck?" he heard from up and above. The voice wasn't soft and dainty. Instead, it was filled with bewilderment. 

Suddenly, he felt a hand violently grabbing onto his shoulder-length blonde hair and groping at his face. Then, he heard a shriek and then his face getting struck by her thigh, as she moved away from him. A bright light flooded his vision, momentarily, as light from a bedside lamp was radiating throughout the bedroom. He heard her gasp from shock. He sat up on the knees and rubbed at his eyes, before gazing at her. 

Big Rhonda did not appear to be so big to Tristan now. She was positioned at the very top of the bed, with her back pressing up against the headboard. Her legs were folded and were tucked close to her torso. Despite having a shade of brown skin that reminded Tristan of a polished oak chair, he could tell that her face was flushed. Her eyes were wide with fear. Her hair, which is usually styled in two plaits, was now tucked into a colorful pink scarf that was on her head. Her white shirt didn't appear to be so baggy now, according to Tristan. In fact, it was tight and molded to her big, heavy breasts. He glared at her long legs which were toned and curvy. His eyes focused on her feet and her manicured toes. His eyes drifted up to that area between her legs. He was able to view her bare pussy due to the position that she was sitting. He could tell that she was moist and aroused for him. For Tristan, Big Rhonda now looked sexier than a motherfucker.

"What the fuck are you doin' in my bedroom?" she asked him, after gaining a sense of direction. His eyes widened from pleasant surprise, in response. Even though she only said one thing to him, Tristan could see a character shift in her. He knew that the Big Rhonda from the past three years and even the Big Rhonda from three hours ago wouldn't have dared speak to him in such a fashion. She no longer was the Big Rhonda that was quiet, cowardly and who was perceived as being dim-witted. He knew that this one was sharp as a tack, confident and brave. He briefly wondered what brought on the personality change.

"What does it look like I'm doing in here?" was Tristan's reply. 

Being the alpha male that he was, he was not going to let her brand new personality to disrespect him. He stood up, on his knees, on the mattress. He could feel his nine-inched prick swing slightly, an after-shock from moving too quickly. It was an effort to let her in on his plans of fucking her into unconsciousness. He noticed that her eyes drifted down to his erect cock, widened a bit and then they moved back up to his face. Pride seeped into his body and a lop-sided grin formed on his mouth. The grin soon disappeared, when he saw the scowl on her face.

"It looks like you are in the wrong room, honey..." Tristan's cock twitched at the 'honey' reference. He really wanted her to stop talking just so they can get on with the fucking. "... Who you are looking for is Maya and that bony bitch's room is two doors down from this one," she informed him. 

'Yeah, she is definitely a different person,' Tristan thought. 

"No..." he said as he slipped to his hands and knees. He crawled up the mattress, into the direction that she was sitting and came to a halt, when there was about six inches of space in between them. "...I am definitely in the right room." 

"Get away from me," she said in a terse voice. 

"No," he said to her. 

Tristan reached out to touch her leg and she slapped his hand away. Her strike had so much power that his hand fell into a throbbing, after the immediate intense pain had ebbed away. But, it didn't deter him from reaching out to her again. She ended up not only slapping his hand, but she also struck him against his left cheek. Like the lasting result that occurred in his hand, the side of his face was throbbing, as well as, was giving off a shade of red. He felt his anger rise and then cloud his better judgment. He soon found himself grabbing onto one of her limbs roughly and tossing her onto the mattress. Before she could get into a defensive stance, Tristan had already restrained her onto the mattress. Each one of his massive hands held onto each of her wrist and pinned against the bed. He rested all of his upper body weight on her torso. 

"Let me go," she said screamed through clenched teeth. 

Tristan felt her body shake and writhed underneath him, as she tried to get out of the restraint. Tristan stared down at the feisty beauty and chuckled. His prick screamed for some type of gratification. He rubbed it along the comforter that was on the bed. He could've jerked himself off to alleviate the pain, but he was having way too much fun now. 

"LET ME GO!" she screamed, after making another futile attempt. 

"You might as well stop moving and just shut the fuck up," Tristan suggested. "Listen—

"You got until the count of 8 to get the fuck up off of me," Big Rhonda said calmly, so suddenly. Her body had gone still and she was not struggling anymore. Tristan should've taken that as a sign of what's to come. But he didn't, instead he chose to gloat. 

"Why? What are you going to do to me, huh? You know what; let me count it down for you, all right? 8...7...6...5...4..."

A bright white light had clouded his vision, as the feeling a blunt pain had fogged up his nose. As he rolled onto his back, he realized his mistake. His face was just close enough to hers to receive a mind-numbing head butt. Next, he felt her weight on top of his upper body and soon felt the wrath of her fists as she pummeled on him. Thanks to his need to care for his nose, Tristan left his torso exposed and defenseless. Each one of her punches felt like he was being struck by a bag of coins. It wasn't until a gut-churning blow to his lower abdomen, when Tristan started to defend himself. First, he tried to grab a hold of her fists but she was too fast. Her hands would avoid his and then would land more devastating blows. Giving up that tactic, he went on to his second tactic, which was pushing her off of him. With a fall that was not finesse, Big Rhonda landed onto the mattress. Trying to gain the upper hand, Tristan tried to straddle her once more. She, however, was much quicker and she skittered out of the way. Now, he was standing at the foot of the bed and glaring at her. Even though he appeared calm on the outside, internally he was screaming pain. His whole upper body ached: his ribs, his chest and his gut were wracked with pain. Despite having his ass being kicked by her, Tristan still wanted to fuck her badly. He wanted her to be lying underneath him, writhing, moaning and begging him to fuck her. Strangely, he wanted for her to declare that her body belongs to him. The thought of that made his body tremble. 

Big Rhonda positioned herself at the headboard and into a crouching position. He could hear her panting from where he stood. Her brown eyes were glaring at him. In his opinion, she looked like she was wishing him a thousand deaths. Her pink head wrap was now gone from her head; it was knocked off during their grappling. Her long, burgundy-colored hair was loose and framing her face. 

'She is acting like a caged fucking animal over there' Tristan mentally concluded, as he waited for her next move. 'She is like— 

Then, it hit him. His body had grown cold, and then warmed up into soaring heights. A movement occurred at the pit of his chiseled stomach, which felt like his insides were trying to travel up into his throat. She reminded Tristan of his fantasy woman. Big Rhonda was the wild, jungle native that yearned to free. A smile had grown on his face. When he saw that she leapt off of the bed to try to make an escape out of the bedroom, he was ready for her. 

Tristan and Big Rhonda ended up grappling throughout the room. When it came to which individual was able to gain the upper hand, it went back and forth between the two of them. Big Rhonda was laying punches and doling out scratches while Tristan was fending her off by pushing her away. Then, he would gain the upper hand by straddling her and holding her down, if only temporarily. The fighting between the two had reached a climax, when in a fit of frustration Tristan had given her a vicious back hand across the face. She ended up falling off of him and off the bed. She landed on the hard, cold wooden floor with a loud thud and a grunt. Seeing this opportunity as getting the upper hand, he leapt off of the bed and straddled her body once more. Big Rhonda was trying to catch of breath and was rubbing a sore spot by her ribs, when he pounced on her. He had taken a hold her wrists, crossed them against each other and pressed them against her stomach. He held them down while he sat on her thighs. 

Tristan was expecting for Big Rhonda to glare at him with a death stare, but her face held a clam expression. He expected for her to try to throw his off and then proceed to kick his ass, instead she was passive. But, he could still feel the fight inside of her body. She was gazing up at his face, in fact. He noticed a thin layer of perspiration on her face, which was giving her a glow. She was panting for air. Her hair, which was styled in curls and waves, was spread out around her, as if it was a halo. Her doe-shaped eyes were at half-mast. Her button nose was flaring slightly, as she gained control of her breathing. Her full, cupid's bow lips were parted slightly, another attempt at regulating her breathing. A dick-rousing moan escaped her lips, which made Tristan press his cock into her belly and perform a grind against her. His balls dragged against the soft flesh of her pelvis. A low shuddering groan fell from his mouth as a long drip of pleasure poured into his long-aching member. His grinding not only stimulated his own organs and made his body feel on fire, but it was stoking a slow-building one inside of his conquered opponent. Once he felt the fight leave her body, seen her eyes roll to the back of her head, and then flutter close and heard her gasp in pleasure, Tristan wanted to howl in pleasure. Without destroying the energy between the two of them, he re-positions himself on top of her body. 

In his new position, Tristan now had his brawny, 6'4 frame filling up the space that was in between her opened legs, with each hand positioned at each side of her head, in a push-up stance and his cock resting on top of her cunt. He felt her hands grip onto his forearms before traveling up to his shoulders and then down his back, to the spot right above his ass. Her legs wrapped themselves around his powerful legs. He gazed down at her and smiled. 

'Was starting to wonder when you were going to come around,' he thought, before starting the process of rocking his pelvis back and forth, so that his cock could rub up against her cunt. A grunt slipped from him, as pleasure pulsed into his dick.

An airy, trembling wail slipped from her as she felt his thick member rubbed against her. His flushed, hard dick dragged itself against her clit and it sent tiny needle pricks of delight into her pussy. He noticed the serene expression on her face. Tristan could feel her hands tighten their grip on his back. 

"You like this?" he grunted, as he picked up the speed of his stroking. Big Rhonda, in response, made a wail that shook and trembled.

"Uuuuuhhh," was the only thing she managed to get out of her mouth. Her hands drifted down to his ass and she gripped onto it, enjoying the feeling of the powerful muscle under her hands. 

"Tell me, Roe" he growled, "tell me that you like this!" She nodded her head and he made a growl. "No, I want you to tell me that you like this!" She groaned out that she loved it, before announcing that she was about to cum. Tristan could even feel his climax approaching .The room was silent, except for the noise of skin slapped against skin, as his balls were ramming against her pussy. 

"I'm about to cum," she whimpered, as she disengaged her legs from his and raised them up from off of the floor. 

Feeling her knees brush up against his biceps, gave Tristan an idea for a new position. Suddenly, she felt Tristan stopped. She grunted in disappointment. He shushed her while lifting her left leg in the air and resting it against his left shoulder. He lined his cock up to her pussy's opening. He heard her moaned in anticipation. 

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he growled to her. She peeled off of her shirt and made a makeshift pillow, before nodding her head. "No, tell me that you want me to fuck you," he instructed. The thought of not cumming must've crossed her mind, thought Tristan, because immediately spoke.

"Please, fuck me" she moaned, before reaching for his prick. 

He allowed her grab onto him. She felt that his cock was slick with her cunt juice as she fisted him with her hand. He growled out in pleasure.

"Go ahead and stick my cock in that pussy," he grunted out. 

She lifted her head and shoulders off of the floor, so she could what she doing. Her hand guided the thick head of his swollen member into her twat. It butted up against her clit during its journey and she shook. When she couldn't push him further inside, she used her hips to pull him further inside of her. His cock was greeted with a combination of tightness, wetness and a comforting heat as he slid deeper into her pussy. He bit down on his bottom lip, an effort to keep from cumming too quickly. Once the tip of dick made contact with her cervix, he groaned.

"Fuck, you are so tight" he grunted.

"W-w-well, you-you're big," she stuttered out in a gasp, with a smile on her lips. 

He chuckled at her joke, before withdrawing and then slamming back into her cunt. She let out a yowl, which he thought was a sign of pain until he felt her cunt's muscles squeeze at his dick. 

"Please, don't stop," she begged as she rubbed at her clit with her right hand and fondled her tits with her left. 

"Never," Tristan declared as he took in the scene that was unfolding in front of him. 

He began thrusting in slow, methodical strokes. Judging at how tight and how trusting Big Rhonda's cunt, he figured that she wasn't a virgin but she wasn't sexually active. He started out with slow thrusts before switching into a hard and fast pace, which ultimately led both lovers into mind-numbing climax. Tristan felt his cock shoot out several spurts of cum into Rhonda's cunt, as it gripped onto his meat, during her peak. Feeling the last bit of stamina leave his body, he laid his sweat-drenched body on top of hers. He was about to pull his spent cock out of her equally-spent pussy and roll off of her, when she stopped him. She asked him to lie on top of her for a few more minutes. With a curt nod of his head, he laid on top of her. He rested his head on her bare right breast. As he lay there, he could hear her heart beating rapidly and he could feel her womb contract around his flaccid member. 

He felt slumber creep over him like if it was a blanket. The last thought that popped into his head before drifting off to sleep was the notion that her body welcomed him, as if it was made just for him. 

'She needed to get use to this big dick...' he thought, '...because she will be experiencing more and more of it during the upcoming summer vacation.'

~oMRo~

Ten Years later

"Mama, I want you to have fun this summer. Promise me that you will have some type of fun while I am gone."

She thought about her son's statement, as she gazed out of the plane's window and out at the clouds that were floating in front of the window.

Somalia remembered that conversation as if it happened a few minutes ago, instead of the few weeks ago. The conversation had taken place in between herself and her son, Julian. They were standing in bus depot number 12 at the Port Authority Bus Terminal, in the heart of New York City, along with the other parents and Boy Scout members. Julian was about to embark on his journey of fun, for the next six weeks, at Camp Wint-Wint in the country side of Pennsylvania. Somalia, at first, was hesitant about letting a bunch of strangers take care of her baby for the next two months. But after a lot of prodding from the likes of her parents, her seven brothers, her uncles, Julian and hearing some assurances from the Boy Scout Troop officers, she relented. 

Starting when she handed that Scout Master the final deposit for this six-week extravaganza, she has been counting down to this day; the day when her son departs for this trip. Prior to this trip, the longest that she hasn't held her son in her arms was two weeks. One week had occurred back in 2001, when Julian was a three months old and was hospitalized in Brookdale Hospital, due to a nasty cough and a high fever. But, she was up in that hospital every day, to be with her son, despite the fact that she worked three jobs at the time. The second, one-week incident had occurred when her brother, Lewis and his wife Linda had taken Julian and his cousins to Williamsburg, Virginia. Even during that vacation, she called four times a day to speak with Julian.

When the Scout Masters announced that it was time to board the charter bus, she felt like her heart drop into the bottom of her stomach. She felt her throat constrict and her eyes sting, due to the unshed tears that threatened to slip out. She promised her son that she wasn't going to cry, so she silently prayed to God that He could hold onto them tears until her son boards the bus. 

Somalia gave her son a few instructions and advice on being safe during his time away, before giving him a hug that was so tight that Julian was sure that his brain could feel it. In a muffled voice, he begged his mother to let him go and she did, reluctantly. She planted a kiss on the shorn, blonde hair that was on top of his head. She knew that when he returned, his head was going to be decorated with a pile of big, loose curls. She watched him walk away from her and towards a small group of his buddies, who were waiting for him. She could tell that they were playfully ragging on him about his mom's corny behavior. He swatted at them and proceeded to shadow box with one of them. At that moment, he reminded her of his father. Before her mind could delve deeper, it was interrupted by Julian's voice. 




The Super-Duper Ch. 01



"Mama, you should go skiing with Auntie Gumby. I want you to have fun this summer. Promise me that you will have some type of fun while I am gone" and that being said, she watched her son turned away and board the charter bus. That statement totally caught her off-guard. She stuttered out a response that she would, which was a bunch of empty words with no promises. 

Three weeks traveled by and Somalia hasn't been keeping her word to her son. In those first three weeks, she has done absolutely nothing that was considered fun. She had done her usual activities: go to work, come home from work, eat, sleep and then repeat the same steps until the weekend approached. The only thing that she had done that was out of the ordinary was attended a family dinner at her parents' home. 

It wasn't like Somalia didn't have any places to hang out; after all, she lived in one of the great cities of the world, New York City. If she wanted to find someplace that was unique and fun, all she had to do is look through her smart phone. Also, it was not like she didn't have any friends/acquaintances/potential suitors to invite her to functions. At least three times a week, she was invited to some type of function, whether if it was a date, a party or a Happy Hour function. 

It did not take some type of soul-draining, intrapersonal character searching for Somalia to figure out what was her problem. She knew that she was a home-body and she was afraid of doing new things, in fear of not enjoying it. She felt the same way, when it came to befriending people that she's recently met. She's come to accept the idiosyncrasy with open arms. 

Then, on one Saturday morning, Somalia decided to take those open arms and choke the shit out of that idiosyncrasy. 

The proverbial act of asphyxiation had occurred during a telephone conversation that she was having with her best friend, her former sister, Gumby. Somalia was standing on the back patio of her house, watering a couple of potted plants while listening to her friend gripe about a problem that she was facing. It was a recurring problem that was turning up and it was in regards to a trip that she had planned. Gumby, thanks to a sweepstakes that she entered, had won a two-week vacation to some hoity-toity ski resort that was nestled up near the Colorado Rocky Mountains. As a part of the prize package, she was rewarded with two free round-trip airplane tickets and a few other travel accommodations. Now the problem that she faced was trying to find the other person to spend her vacation with. First, Gumby invited Somalia who ended up turning down her invitation and ended up giving her some bullshit excuse. The second person that she invited was her mother. But her mother also turned her down and was adamant about not wanting to fly from Bangkok, Thailand to America. She asked a co-worker of hers, who was a good friend, and that person wanted her to trade in the deluxe suite for two rooms, the two first-class tickets for three coach seats, just so she could invite her man. Now, she was back to square one with this extra ticket.

Gumby was in the middle of explaining all of this to Somalia, when she heard Somalia say "I'll go". Soon after, Somalia heard a clattering noise and then slight static from Gumby's end of the phone. Feeling worried, Somalia called out for Gumby. 

"Hey," Gumby said, after that brief moment of silence.

"What in the hell just happened?" Somalia asked, as she picked off some dead leaves off of her geraniums. 

"Oh, I just fainted. I think it was from the shock of hearing that your ass wants to go somewhere," quip Gumby. 

"Fuck you, bitch" Somalia chuckled. 

"Fuck you, too" she said in response. They both laughed at their inside joke. "Are you sure that you wanna go? I don't want you to say 'yes' and then tell me 'no' at the last minute."

"Yes, Gumby, I want to go with you on this ski trip." Suddenly, a loud, abrasive shrill broke through the phone and Somalia had to take the phone away from her ear. Once she was certain the Gumby was done celebrating, she placed the phone back to her ear. "I hope you're done celebrating and that you didn't do that shit out in public."

"I did," she said in a sing-song voice. "I even did the ole jump from the old Toyota commercials." In fact, Somalia could hear people talking in the background, as well as, the sounds of an organ playing music. 

"Bitch, please don't tell me that your ass is in a church right now, cussing and shit and acting like a banshee."

"I am," Gumby said, once again in a sing-song voice. "Right now, I am at a wedding that I have planned. Oh, I have to go; the bride's bitch of a mother is staring at me. I'll talk to you later. In fact, I'll be by later. Love you. Bye."

"Love you too. Bye." 

Gumby did keep her promise and did show up to Somalia's home, a few hours later. Somalia could tell that Gumby was super excited that she was going on this trip to Colorado with her. The woman would not stop talking about their upcoming trip. Then she had dropped a bombshell on Somalia. They would be leaving for the trip in three days. 

"Three days? The trip is in three days, Gumby? I can't take off from work for two weeks and give a three day notice!" Somalia leapt off of her sofa and started to pace back and forth. Gumby was certain if she continued, she would've left a dent in the plush carpeting. "... Ooooh, I can't go, Gumby. I can't take off and expect to have my job when I come back! I'm sorry, Gumby, but I can't go."

"Molly," Gumby said, calling her a nickname that she had for over twenty-eight years, "can you please try to see if you can get the time off? I am sure you have plenty of hours to do it. Can you just please try?" To add more persuasion, Gumby threw a real pitiful look on her face. She noticed Somalia's eyes soften up a bit. 

"I'll try, but I can't promise anything, chica," she concluded.

"So, let's ask the Big Guy Upstairs for some help" and before Somalia knew it, she was kneeling on the floor, with Gumby and they were praying to God. 

After their brief conversation with The Higher Power, Gumby left. She still had a few errands to run before she departs for the trip. But, before she left, she warned Somalia to start packing her clothes, so she wouldn't have to do it on Tuesday morning. 

"I can't believe we had just prayed to God for my vacation," Somalia muttered under her breath. "And then, on top of that I just prayed with a person, who cuss and hollered like an idiot in a house of worship, just a few hours ago."

On Monday morning, Somalia had woken up twenty minutes before her alarm clock could wake her. She didn't have a fitful slumber. She was too excited, too nervous and too anxious for this day. Today was the day that she was going to fill out a request for a vacation. She knew that she had plenty of hours stored up, 523 hours and fifteen minutes to be exact, due to her lack of vacations during the five years that she worked at her job. Once she arrived at her job, she immediately filled out the form and placed it on her supervisor's desk. She could barely concentrate on work as she waited for the verdict of her vacation request. She was there for barely three hours and Gumby called her business phone four times already. Somalia had received the news that she was waiting for, when she returned to work after her lunch break. As she neared her cubicle, she noticed a white sheet of paper, lying on her keyboard. With a shaking hand, she flipped the paper over and saw that it was the 'employee's copy' of the request form. On the corner of the paper, her supervisor had written a small message:

Enjoy your vacation

Seeing those words written on that paper, she felt like jumping for joy. She immediately had called Gumby to report the good news. Once again, Somalia had to pull the phone away from her ear due to her best friend's screaming. After work, Gumby had forced Somalia to meet her in the uptown section of Manhattan, so they could go shopping for clothes and accessories. 

For Somalia, it's been years since her last shopping spree, so it felt weird for her. Every time she picked something up that she liked, a feeling of guilt had washed over her and she would change her mind about buying it. Gumby had watched her 'spiritual sister' pick up numerous items and placing them back on the racks, about twelve times, before deciding to say something. 

"Molly, buy something that you like."

"I will, I will, I'm just looking for the right thing—

"No, you're looking for the cheapest thing to buy and then you're going to go over to the boy's section and pick out a ton of stuff for Jules. I know you, Spiritual Sister, you ain't fooling me. So you might as well pick up that fly-ass dress that you've checking out and buy it. Cuz, if you don't, I will buy it for you," Gumby said to her, while holding a leopard-print dress up to her petite frame. 

"It's..." Somalia started out saying, before her voice trailed off. 

She felt that lump return to her throat and the stinging in her eyes again. She didn't want to have a 'woe is me, the single mother' emotional breakdown in the middle of the ladies' department of H&M store. She felt Gumby stand by her side and place a hand on her shoulder, as an act of comfort. 

"...it's hard for me to treat myself to something nice. If I do buy something for myself, I end up feeling like shit. I start to think that the money could've gone to something useful like towards the light bill or to Jules' college fund or something." 

"What you're feeling is normal for a lot of moms, especially for single moms. Hell let me be the bearer of bad news: that shit doesn't change when your baby grows up to be a man, especially when he's going to shower your ass with gifts. If you want an example, look at me. I send my mom countless of gifts for her birthday and she tells me the same ole' thing: 'Gadara Lee, you don't have to give me gifts. Keep your money and buy yourself something nice'. It's annoying. Luckily for her, I don't have money to buy her house. If I did, I think I might have to kill her ass, taxidermy her corpse and prop her up in the house, because that's only way she is going to make use of it. Oh, goodness, can you imagine that? You see my dead, stuffed mom propped up in the kitchen. 'Hey Mama Laurie, how are you?' And all you see is this..."

Gumby, while still holding onto the dress, posed in a ridiculous pose with a creepy smile on her face. Somalia burst into a loud and raucous laugh. 

"...Then, I going have to put some wheels on the base board of the mount that she will be nailed on..." 

Somalia's laughter interrupted her monologue. Gumby noticed that her friend was doubled over in laughter. 

"...I'm going to have to place wheels on the bottom of the baseboard, so when I want to easily move her; I can just push her..."

Another one of Somalia's laughs had interrupted Gumby's story and it led to Gumby laughing along with her. 

"For-for-for Halloween, I can have a...{wheezing and then laughter} a haunted mansion and I can dress her up and placed her in a dark corner...{more laughter} and when kids come inside I can pull her out of the corner, using a string..." Gumby couldn't finish her story anymore because she fell into a laughing fit. The two women were a distraction for some other customers, because a store employee had approached them, to see what the commotion was about. 

"Oh, sir..." Somalia said in a rushed tone of voice. "...My companion and I were having a little joke, I'm sorry for our obnoxious behavior."

"Well, that's all right" the man said to the both of them, while eye-fucking Somalia the entire time. "Just please keep it down".

"All right, thank you" she said to him.

"Yeah, thanks, Mister H&M Employee Man," Gumby said to him as he went back to his station. "See, that shit was your fault and now we have Mister Tight Suit Man staring us down. Thanks to you and that booga-wolf, countrified hog-calling laugh of yours."

"Oh, fuck you," Somalia said to her, with a feign anger to her voice.

"Well, fuck you too. Now let's go and find something to buy."

"Gumby?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for the laugh."

"You're welcome, Spiritual Sister."

~oMRo~

It's been a little over eighty minutes since the plane had flown off of the runway, at JFK Airport and has been airborne. Since setting foot inside of the first class section of the airplane, Somalia found the whole situation to be surreal. Everything from the hospitality from the flight attendants to the décor of first class has been superb for Somalia. She also noticed that Gumby was enjoying herself too. In fact, Somalia has caught Gumby taking several pictures by using her using the camera feature on her iPhone. Somalia didn't say anything about it until it was dinner time. They was just served some fancy entrée that consists of a clump of seasoned cream, a sprig of parsley and a prawn that was the size of Somalia's fist. 

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?" Somalia had asked her, in a whisper. 

Gumby was holding her iPhone in front of herself. It was hovering over her plate of food. "I'm going to take a pic of my food and put it on my Twitter page, chica" she informed her. 

"What-in the-hell; you know that you're acting like you're straight off of the boat, you know that right?"

"Fuck you," she sung as she snapped a picture.

"Fuck you too and that lame ass Twitter page that you have," Somalia said, before eating her meal. 

"You're just jealous that you don't have a Twitter page."

"I don't have a Twitter page, because I got shit to do during the days," she informed her. 

"Molly?" 

"What?" Somalia gazed up, while savoring the tasted of the cream off of the fork. She looked over at Gumby and had her picture taken. Her former sister giggled and looked at the result of her handiwork. 

"This..." she said as she shown the picture to Somalia. It was a picture of Somalia, with the fork inside of her mouth, in the throes of enjoying the food. Her eyes were somewhat close and she had a slight grimace on her face. "...Is definitely going on my Twitter page..."

The flight had lasted a total of five hours and twenty-eight minutes. Somalia had taken a nap that lasted throughout the first film that was shown, a foreign film. From what Gumby had told her, it was one of those types of films that no one has heard of, but it always will win an Academy Award. The second film was one of those action films that starred Matt Damon, she barely watched, as she read several magazines and half of a novel. It was during the viewing of the third film, when the passengers were notified that they were about to land and that they had put their seat belts back on. 

Even though, through her common knowledge, she knew that hours here, in Colorado, were a few hours prior to the ones in the east coast, her body was still on east coast time. She was tired beyond measure. She could feel her eyes flutter as she stood in front of the conveyor belt that dispensed passengers' luggage. Seeing her two bags, she pulled them off of the device and sat them next to her. Now, she was waiting for Gumby's luggage set, which wasn't hard to miss ever since it was a Hello Kitty luggage set. Gumby, after drinking every available beverage that was given to her during the travel, needed to use the bathroom. Somalia told her that she would fetch both of their luggages. She was surveying the conveyor belt, for Gumby's bags, when she heard something that she thought had made her heart stop.

"Big Rhonda?"

~oMRo~

"Do you mind telling me what that was all about, my Spiritual Sister?" Gumby asked her former sister. 

"Nothing," was her answer. It came out brusque and through clenched teeth. 

Gumby could tell that her friend was not in the best of moods, so she decided to leave her be. So, she turned her attention towards the scenery that was outside of the shuttle bus. A long bout of silence wafted through the mini-bus, before another word was spoken. 

"Gumby how was your high school years like? What I mean is, were they happy years or were they bad? Were you a part of the popular clique or were you an outsider?" She asked these questions as gazed out of the window. 

"My high school years were great, well, not always ever since my mother did not want me to turn out like her," Gumby answered. "Why do you wanna know about that? Did something happen to you in high school that has something to do with what went on at the airport?"

"Yeah," she sighed. 

A few hours prior...

"Big Rhonda?" she heard from behind her. She felt her pulse quicken, her heart beating rapidly against her chest and an anger that she thought she have gotten rid of, resurface. She had taken her time and turned around to see a familiar face. 

"H-hello, Hill, how are you?" Somalia said to her. 

"I'm doing great. How about you?"

"I'm doing all right. How's the family?"

"My family is doing well. Mom and dad are contemplating about moving to Texas, so they can be close to my grandmother—

"Mother Abilene? Is she all right?" For a brief second, Somalia lost her anger and became concerned. 

"Oh, yes, she is fine. I think it's just that my mom is sick of living in New York," answered Hill with a slight smile on her mouth and with a sight wave of her hand. A few seconds of silence had crossed between them before she spoke again. "How is your family? My mom had told me that your brother Peter and his wife just had a baby."

"Yes, they had a baby boy two months ago. They named him Samuel," Somalia informed her. 

Then an uncomfortable silence has fallen between the two of them. During the silence, both women shyly glance at each other as they sized up one another. Somalia thought Hill was dressed like a person who had an important role at her job and she did important things. Somalia believed that Hill's suit cost more money than the amount that is in one of her paychecks. It was set that consists of a blazer and an A-line skirt that reached to her knees. On her feet, she wore a pair of high heels that formed into a point at the toe. Her long, swan-like neck was adorned with an embellished, gold necklace. Her shiny black hair was pulled back, away from her face, and kept away with the aid of a head band. Her makeup was minimal. 

Suddenly, Somalia felt self-conscious, an emotion that she was used to feeling, since the age of twelve. "So—

"Hey, Molly, did my bags come out yet?"

It was Gumby. She had returned from the bathroom. Somalia had breathed a sigh of relief. She noticed that Hill had done a quick perusal of Gumby and her opinion of Somalia's friend was evident on her face. Somalia had to bite down the urge to say something to Hill. 

"Well, hello there" her best friend said to Hill. 

"Hello" was Hill's only reply. The greeting was short and lack genuine interest. Somalia had taken this time to introduce Hill to Gumby and vice versa. 

"Hill, I would like for you to meet, Gumby. Gumby, this is an old friend from high school, Hill."

"Gumby?" Hill had said, incredulously. "Your parents named you Gumby?" 

Somalia felt her hands curl up into fists and the urge to knock this bitch on her ass was overwhelming. 

"No, actually my name is Gadara Lee, but Gumby's my nickname. In fact, Molly's son had given me the 'Gumby' name, when he was two years old. He kept saying 'Gumby' and while I was trying to tell that my name was Gadara Lee..."

Gumby started to laugh at the memory, but stopped when she seen the dead-pan expression on Hill's face. 

"... It was one of those moments that you had to be there for. So, what are you doing here in Colorado? Do you live here or are you on vacation?" 

"I was about to ask Big Rhonda the same question, before I was interrupted. Are you guys here—

"Vacation," Somalia said to Hill. The way she said it, definitely let all parties know that she was not going to tolerate any more of Hill's insipid behavior. 




The Super-Duper Ch. 02



As soon as Somalia had opened her almond-shaped brown eyes, she instantly regretted doing so. There were lashes of blinding, sharp pain stabbing at her retinas and the top of her head. She groaned and felt the pain become worse.

'It even hurts when I groan...shit,' she thought as she lay in her bed with her eyes closed. 

She slowly rolled onto her back and heard her stomach grumble. "Sorry," her voice croaked. She had lain on her back for a few minutes before she felt the tell-tale signs that she needed to vomit. She gingerly slipped out of the warm and comfortable bed to go the adjoining bathroom, to spew out the contents of her stomach. Afterwards, she decided to rest on the bathroom's floor, next to the toilet. 

The feeling of being suspended in the air was what woke Somalia up from her sleep. She started to struggle and stopped, when she heard "Stop moving. I am just carrying you back to your bed." The voice sounded familiar to Somalia. She couldn't see the person's face, due to the fact that her eyes were closed. Her head was hurting too much and she didn't want to do anything else to agitate it even more. She thought about the voice. It was too masculine and too deep for it to belong to Gumby. Plus, Gumby, despite being a curvy woman, was too petite of a woman to be carrying Somalia's body. This person had to be a stranger. So, she resumed struggling again.

"Big Roe," said the voice and she stopped. 

'Who is he? I know him, I know that for sure.' 

Suddenly, memories of what happened on the night before ran through her mind. There were memories of the tour, the restaurant, meeting up with a few members of The Crew, seeing Tristan again, going to the club, drinking like a fish and then the memory of waking this morning. 

"Tristan?" she groaned, her throat feeling raw and sore, as if she swallowed a bundle of Brillo pads. 

"Yes?" she heard him say, softly. Then she felt the softness of her bed and the warmth that were running off of his arms disappearing. 

"What are you doing here?" she found herself saying. 

There was no answer from him, so she repeated her question. Again, she was met silence, so she opened her eyes, reluctantly. There was no pain. In fact, her headache was gone but she felt a bit queasy in her stomach. She found herself lying in her bed, in her bedroom of the rented out hotel suite. She sat up and took note that she was still wearing the dress that she wore last night. She was barefoot and her hair was everywhere, so she knew that she had a serious case of 'bed-head'. She was alone. Her bedroom's door was opened. She peered out of the room, past the living room and into Gumby's room. From what she could see, Gumby wasn't in there. 

'Where in the hell did she go off to?' 

"Oh, God, I am never drinking again," she declared as she leaned against the mounds of pillows that were positioned behind her. She slipped her long, bronze-colored shapely legs from underneath the sable-lined comforter. "I don't know how those college kids do it," she said to herself. She ran her fingers through her long, thick hair. "God, what time is it?"

"It's 4:15" she heard being said. 

It had come from the left of her. She glanced over, to where the bathroom's entrance, to find a half-naked man with a towel wrapped around his lower body. It wasn't just any man. It was Tristan; the person who's partly responsible for her drinking on the night before. 

"Oh goodness" she groaned as she closed her eyes as she rested her head against the headboard. 

"Well, good afternoon to you too," he said. He walked to the front of the bed and stood there. "How are you feeling?" he asked her.

"Like I was beaten with a sack of nickels," she stated, in a groan.

Tristan chuckled at her colorful description. "That's very funny."

"Glad to know that I can amuse you," she groaned, before staring at him. "Where's Gumby?" 

"Who?" he asked her.

"She's my sister. She is the Asian chick that I was with last night. You can't forget her. There aren't too many big-booty, loud Asian women running around here."

"Oh, she had gone out to get you some stuff that she thought that would make you feel better. Also, I asked her to get a few things for me, so she might be out for a while," Tristan informed her. "Do you want me to get you anything?"

"A glass of water would be nice," she croaked out.

"You got it, Roe" he said to her. 

Then, he went to fetch a glass of water. He returned a few minutes later with a glass of cold water. He gave her a glass of water and she downed the contents in one drink. 

"Thanks," she said, with her voice now clearer than before. She placed the glass on the nightstand that was to the right side of her bed. 

"You're welcome," he said to her. 

"Now tell me..." Her dark brown eyes focused on the towering, semi-wet man that stood at the foot of her king-sized bed. "...what in the fuck are you doing in my room?" There was an edge to her voice and she was sure that he could feel the anger rising off of her body. 

Her question reminded Tristan of that unusual but wonderful night, when Big Rhonda and he had hooked up. Mainly, it reminded him of the moment when she asked him about his reasoning of being in her bedroom. During that time and the one that was occurring now, she had this particular look in her eyes. It said to him, "I don't have time to listen to your bullshit; answer me or I will kick your ass". 

"You were not feeling good and I helped you to get back to the hotel."

"Ok" she said to him, rather calmly. "So why are you still here?"

"I didn't want to leave you alone." The expression on her face told him that she didn't believe him. He had gone on to further explain. "I would've felt guilty if I just left, Rhonda—

"Somalia" she snapped at him.

"What?"

"My name is Somalia. Learn how to use it, from now on," she corrected him. 

"Sorry" he apologized, a simple word that was full with humility. 

"Should I expect to have photos of my ass hanging out, posted somewhere on Facebook? Or perhaps I will see photos of you and your dumb ass friends on a MySpace page?"

"What? Why would I do something like that?" he asked her, feeling a combo of bewildered and offended. 

"Cause from my personal experience with dealing with you and the rest of those losers that you call 'friends', I should expect for you guys to do something like that," she informed him. 

He could hear the hurtful feelings that she possessed in her voice. 'Shit, but, this convo was bound to happen,' he thought. He wasn't expecting to have this confrontation so soon in their vacation, but he knew that it needed to happen, in order for Somalia to accept him.

"I would never do something like that to you," he said with a serious sense of tone. 

She scoffed, in disbelief and disgust, at his declaration.

"I wouldn't—

"But you did," she said to him, as she shifted in her position "and you've done it one too many times". 

"That was when I was a kid, back when I was too self-centered, too focused on having other kids like me and too scared to stand up for something, in fear of being ostracized. But, now, I am man—

Somalia made another scoff and then said, "Just because you have hair on your nuts, have a minimum-wage job but living off of a trust fund, a defunct-marriage and now have an eight-pack doesn't mean that you're a man, sonny!" She knew that her insult had struck a nerve with him, when she saw his eyes narrow and his jaw's muscles clench. "Did I hit a sore spot for you?" she said in a taunting way. 

Tristan tried to feel angry at her, but he was finding it to be hard. There, she was: his dream girl, laying in a bed and looking ripe for picking. Her skin was flushed and appeared to be glowing. Her thick, curly hair was styled to the side and looked unruly, as if she had just finished having a romp in the hay. His eyes were drawn to her chest, thanks to the plunging neckline of her dress. Her cleavage looked alluring as it moved with every inhalation and exhalation. His eyes traveled to another favorite part her body. She had her legs free from under the blanket. Her right knee was bent and propped up while her left leg was extended in front of her. Her tangerine-colored dress was pushed up to her torso and off of her legs. The comforter was strategically positioned in between her thighs. 

"Are you ever going to forgive me for all of the stupid shit that I've done, when I was a kid? Or are you going to hold it against me for the rest of your life?" Tristan asked her.

"No, I don't forgive you, because I think you're not sorry at all."

"I am sorry about all of it!" he said to her, with his voice rising in volume. He could feel the twinges of frustration burning at him. Here he is, trying to make her understand that he was remorseful of his behavior and she is not believing him. "I was a fucking kid and so were you. I would have hope that you would've grown out—

In the speed that it takes to blink an eye, Somalia was kneeling in front of him, on the mattress. Her sudden movement had caused to Tristan to jump back, in alarm. Her eyes were wide and filled with anger. Without screaming or yelling at him, she gave him a warning. Her voice was low and calm, but it held an intensity that was barely contained. 

"DON'T. YOU. FUCKING. DARE. MAKE LIGHT OF MY PAIN!" she said to him with her eyes trained on him. "It's bad enough I had to hear that shit from my parents, who taught me to feel bad for feeling bad! For them, all I had to do was just focus on my academics and make sure I don't lose my scholarship! They didn't care that their only daughter was thinking about killing herself! They were thinking about how good that they were going to look in front of their friends! At school, I had to listen to my teachers tell me that I should be 'strong enough' to not let insults bother me; that I should focus on the opportunities that I am receiving at Walcott! I watched my coaches turn a blind eye to it! Just as long as one of you fucks didn't bang me up to the point where I couldn't play in a Friday night game. Otherwise than that, my coaches didn't give a shit! To a lot of those people, I was just another statistic, a faceless student, a black student to fill out their diversity and just a big, black nigger that they were forced to deal with! So, don't you dare say anything to me about 'getting over it'! I refuse to hear that shit from your ass! " She fell silent with the exception of her panting. 

He noticed a tear sliding down her right cheek. He wanted so desperately to wipe it away. Her body trembled with anger. Her anger was coming off so strong that it made goose pimples form on his arms. But he noticed that she was feeling something else. He received his answer a few seconds later, when she sat on her haunches and burst into tears. Her arms wrapped themselves around her body while she cried. A soul-crushing sob had escaped, which made Tristan's sorrow increase ten-fold.

At this point, Somalia didn't care if she looked like a crying idiot in front of Tristan. The relief that she felt at this moment was too good of a moment. Soon, she felt his arms pull her onto his lap and hold her onto her, as she released all of the pent-up sadness and anger that was kept inside of her for thirteen years.

Somalia didn't know how long she cried, but by the time she was done, she felt physically different. Her headache returned from the exertion of her sobbing. She felt the swelling of her eyes. She also felt lighter like an invisible amount of weight as been pulled out of her. She knew that it had to do with the fact that the majority of the burden that she was holding onto was now gone. 

"I'm sorry." 

The apology had come from the large man that was still cradling her in his arms. Somalia gazed up at him and murmured a "huh?" which earned a chuckle from him. 

"I said that I am sorry for all of things that I've done to you..." he explained to her. His hands caressed her back and shoulders while his chin rested on the crown of her head. "I'm not going to make any excuses for my behavior, because there isn't any justifiable reasoning."

"Oh, oh okay," she whimpered, before resting her head against his left shoulder. 

The suite's bedroom was silent. Somalia knew that she shouldn't have felt relaxed as she sat on his lap. Her body screamed in delight as his hands massaged at her scalp, as well as, her left arm and shoulder. She knew that she should've been angry and should've been lashing out at him. Instead, she felt content, lighter and relaxed, as she stared out of the large bedroom window, at the scenic Mountain View.

"Pretty view," she said aloud, to no one in particular. 

"What?" he said to her, with his lips lightly brushing against her forehead. 

"The view" she said, lightly, as she pointed at the window, "it's beautiful". 

He stared out the window at the mountains. 

"Yeah, it's nice but not as beautiful as you" he said to her, which earned a 'ugh' from Somalia. "What? It's true. I would rather stare at you instead of some big pile of rocks."

"Ugh, does those corny ass pick-up lines work?" she asked him as she adjusted herself on his thick, muscled thighs. Unbeknownst to Somalia, her ample derriere brushed against her groin, which stirred his cock from its slumber. 

"That was not a pick-up line, when it was the truth," he said to her, hoping that his erection won't be detected. 

"Yeah, whatever, Casanova," she said to him as she settled into his lap. Her arms were now wrapped around his waist and her face was close to nuzzling the curve of his neck. "Casanova who smells like roses and..." She then set his loins aflame by placing her face close to the sensitive part of his neck and taking a whiff. "...my cucumber-melon body wash that I bought from Bath and Body Works," she stated. Her breath had tickled him and he felt his arousal grow even more. "It's not bad on you. I always thought that it would be weird smell, if it was on a guy, but on you..." Her voice trailed off; when she felt his hands pull at her upper body. His hands asked of her to sit up on his lap and she complied. Somalia stared at his face and saw that he appeared angry. She wondered if he was angry at her and for whatever reason. "Tristan, are you—

Somalia did not get to say another word, due to his lips crashing down on hers, as he supplied her with a kiss. It was a kiss that held passion. She groaned in surprise, but then whimpered in pleasure. She whimpered again, when she felt his tongue slide into her mouth, once his kisses had become more passionate. As they kissed, she felt his hands tug at her dress and touch at her skin. With every caress, her body would crave for more contact. A shudder trickled down her spine, when she felt his fingers touch the bare flesh of her back. He managed to roll down the zipper of her dress and slide the material off of her. Now, topless and with her breasts exposed, his mouth left hers and travel down to her neck. He sucked, licked and bit at the sensitive skin before traveling lower. Her hands encouraged him with his journey as they cradled his face and urged him to continue. When his lips reached her mounds of flesh, his lips clamped onto a brown, puckered nipple and sucked with a strong force. 

"Oh, Tristan" she gasped, as her hips writhed on his lap. 

Her ass rubbed against his cock as it lay against his left thigh. His grunts of pleasure would vibrate through her titty and she would groan at the sensation. With each swiped at his meat, her pussy became wetter and begged for some contact. As if reading her mind, she felt his hand drifted down to her cunt and felt his fingers play at her slit. Her hips bucked at the contact. 

"Oh, fuck, shit" she gasped. Her hips rocked against his prick, in a fast pace, which made his grunt and nip lightly at her breast. His fingers rubbed at her clit in big, rough circles that sent tiny, shocks of pleasure through her body. "Tristan" she gasped. 

With his hand, still playing at her cunt, Tristan changed her position on his lap. Her back was now pressed to his chest. The back of her head was now resting on his right shoulder. Her ass was still rubbing up against his cock and her legs were spread apart, revealing her cunt and giving him more access to it. With his mouth no longer on her tits, his left hand now took its place. His fingers rubbed and kneaded at the flesh while his right fingers rubbed at her heated core. For Tristan, the sounds of her pleasure were music to his ears. 

"Tristan," she cried.

"You like how I am making your pussy feel" he groaned in her ear. With her constant grinding against his dick, it wasn't long before he felt the build-up forming at the base of his nuts. He didn't want to cum inside of a towel. He wanted his cock to be buried deep within her snatch, when he exploded. 

"Oh, God, yes" she moaned.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" he asked in a whisper. Then, his fingers slipped away from her aroused center and delivered a slap to it. In response, her hips jerked, a shaky wail escaped her and a blunt wave of pleasure shot through her. He repeated his question to her. 

"Yes," she whimpered.

"Tell me that you want me to fuck you," he demanded, as he continued with the strict swats to her cunt.

"I-I want-want you to fuck me... Oh God," she moaned as her bottom and pelvis lifted up in the air. 

Tristan took the opportunity to remove the towel from around his body. His cock sprung up from its confines with a dribble off pre-cum sliding down from its tip. He grabbed a hold of the shaft's base with his left hand while his right one spread her cunt's lips apart, to reveal her canal. With the aid of his hand, he guided her to sink down onto his erected member. He was patient with her as she taken her time. He was aware that she hasn't been sexually active in a long time. The lovers groaned at the sensation from the fusion of their two bodies. For a brief moment, her body was still, as she adjusted to his girth and length. Her walls would contract around him and he bit down the urge to withdraw and then ram into her. Instead, he had shown her tenderness during this time with his kisses and tight embrace.

Once Somalia's hips begin to writhe, he let go of her. His hands had gone to her womanly hips. "Ride me," he commanded, in a lust-filled groan. 

"I don't know how to," she confessed. Even though she wasn't a virgin, she wasn't experienced. 

"I'll show you, baby" and then, with the aid of his hands, showed her how to move. With every vertical movement her hips made, a wave of pleasure washed over her. It would start deep inside of her, spread to her clit, to her nipples and burn out in the pit of her belly. She would cry out at the sensation. "There you go, baby, there you go," he grunted. Once he figured that she had a handle on things, he lain back, on the bed. His hands gripped onto her hips and were lulled by her movements. 

'You shouldn't do this,' her conscience reported.

'You shouldn't be doing this.'

You shouldn't be doing this, Molly. Girl, what are you doing?' her mind shouted at her. 'He's Julian's father, remember? Girl, he had broken your heart once before. Do you remember that time? Girl, he is probably going to leave you heart-broken once again and with another baby in your gut. Then, what? You are going to be a single mother of two kids...'

"Shut...up," she moaned to herself, in particular to her nagging thoughts, as she rode Tristan's cock. To shut off her conscious, she opened her eyes and gazed down at where their bodies were joined. She groaned from pleasure at the sight. His white shaft was appearing disappearing and then re-appearing as it moved in and out of her pussy. His balls, which were darker in color and covered in flaxen-colored hair, twitched. Her soft hand palmed the objects and massaged them. In result, Tristan moaned, lifted his hips off the bed and gave five, hard thrusts. "Oh, shit," she screamed, louder than she intended. She leaned forward, spread her legs wider and planted her hands on his thighs. In this slightly new position, the penetration felt deeper, his cock's head grazed her G-spot and the pleasure was greater. Her loud groan occurred behind her and she felt his hands tighten their embrace on her hips. A lump of a familiar sensation had formed at the pit of her stomach and was seeping down into her sex. "Oh," she moaned, as her lower lips pulsated. She picked up the pace and was rewarded with spasms that ripped through her lower region. "Oooh, oh, oh, God I'm cumming!" she moaned loudly. 




The Super-Duper Ch. 02



"OH MY GOD!" 

The sense of reality was thrown at Somalia, as if it was a bucket that was full of cold water. The fog of mind-numbing, sex-induced pleasure was taken away from her and she was back to her senses, thanks to a shouted-out statement. The statement was screamed from across the living room, from the suite's front door. Somalia wasn't sure which person was the owner of that exclamation, but it didn't matter because she wished all four of them a "thousand deaths". 

Well, she wished them all a "thousand deaths" for a millisecond, before she realized her predicament and becoming humiliated enough to dismount off of Tristan and running off to the bathroom. 

"Where are you going? I was enjoying the show!" was what she heard being shouted at her, as she slammed the bathroom's door shut. Her fingers set the door's locking mechanism in place and she leaned up against the door. Alone, in a quiet room, seem to have amp up all of the negativity that she feeling. She could feel the tears forming. Soon, there was a series of four knocks on the door. 

"Somalia, open the door," she heard Tristan said to her, from the other side of the door. 

"No, I'm busy," she lied to him.

"No, you're not. You're leaning against the door."

'How the fuck does he knows that?' she wondered.

"I could feel the weight of your body pressed against the door," he said to her, as if he had just read her mind. "Come on, baby, open up the door. If you are worry about Cassandra, Chelsea and Maya, don't worry. I have the bedroom's door closed and Gumby is cussing their asses out right now. You should hear her right now." 

To prove his point, he became silent and sure enough, Somalia heard Gumby's booming voice. Her voice was muffled to the point that she couldn't make out what she was saying. She giggled, a sign of joy, which was a reprieve from how bad she felt. 

"See, now can you come out of the bathroom or allow me to come in, please?" 

With some reluctance, she unlocked the door and pulled away from it. The door opened slowly and Tristan walked into the bathroom. He was still nude and he was still aroused. He walked up to Somalia and provided her with a passionate kiss that made her temporarily forget everything. He pulled her into his embrace and held her. "Are you—?

"I'm fine, but I am feeling embarrassed though," she answered his unspoken inquiry. "I can tell that you weren't unfazed by it," she said to him, referring to his erection that was now pressing against her stomach. His laughter had rung out throughout the bathroom.

"Honey, it's going to take more than being catch in the act to make Junior down there, to go down," he stated.

"Speaking of which, I know that you guys go through a case of 'Blue Balls' if you don't get any relief, but can we not—

"Don't worry about that, baby. We don't have to do anything that you don't want to do. In fact, we can lie in bed and cuddle." She looked up at him and slugged him on the arm. "Ow. What was that for?"

"For being such a smart ass," she informed him, before giving him a peck on the chin. She parted from him and led him out of the bathroom. 

"Your ability to punch like a dude is the only thing that I didn't miss about you," he stated as he was led out of the room. "Gee, you could be a welterweight champion with those blows."

Tristan had kept to his word and didn't try to initiate any type of sexual encounter. Somalia and he lied in bed and talked. Like the encounter at The Snowbird and The Falcon restaurant, the conversation was easy-going and fluid between them. She listened to him as he discussed certain things about his life: his college years, his marriage to Hill (which she pretended to not know anything about it), the reasoning behind his divorce, tales about his job, stories about his childhood and so on. After hearing stories about his life, Somalia told him a few things about her life: her friendship with Gumby, some things about Julian (but a lot of which she omitted), brief tales of her job, a few tales of her hardships: homelessness, her relationship with her parents and about Julian's battles with his asthma and with schoolyard bullies. With the tales that she had told about Julian, Tristan wondered if they were true. If so, he thought, then he felt like he needed to have a conversation with a few kids from his son's school. It was during this time that the both of them had considered spilling out their secrets. For Tristan, it was of his knowledge about Julian's existence and some other things. For Somalia, it was of telling Tristan that he was the papa of a ten year-old boy. But, as they stared at each other and seen the contentment on each other's faces, they decided to keep quiet. They both ended up falling asleep in each other's arms. 

When Tristan awoken, which was a few hours later, he woke up to the feeling of busting his nut off. The cause of the pleasant surprise was sitting on top of him, riding his dick and with her, moaning out her sexual release. He felt his cock shoot up streams and streams of cum into her waiting womb. The knowledge of both of them having unprotected sex and for her to become pregnant had slipped into his mind. The concept of her fat and swollen with his second child did not frighten him at all. He relished the thought of having another baby with her. Once her climax dissipated, she collapsed on top of his body. 

"Oh" she gasped, as she panted. 

"I agree" he panted. His wrapped her up in his arms. "What brought that on?"

"You didn't like it?" 

"No, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it very much."

"Good" she groaned. "I just wanted to give you something that you would remember this trip by."

"Baby, I am definitely going to remember this for an eternity" he joked. There were three knocks on the bedroom's door. Somalia sat up and glared at the door.

"Yes, Gumby?" she said to the door. 

Tristan had taken the opportunity to play with her breasts. A tremor escaped her body. He could feel his cock hardening again. 

"I was wondering—

A moan escaped from Somalia as a ripple of pleasure slammed into her, when she felt Tristan withdraw slightly but only to ram his cock back into her.

"—never mind" Gumby said from the other side of the door.

********