Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 276(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Rumbles of excitement rolled through the room. Guys shouted out to get the girls’ numbers, practically panting in heat. My billionaire pals were obviously all about that scene, but honestly? It just sounded stupid to me. Two girls? Yeah, I’d had that back in the day and it was more of a hassle than anything else. Not so cool the morning after.
“So yeah,” Reggie continued. “Top that, motherfuckers. I think this contest is DONE! Winner right here,” he crowed, pointing to himself.
A guy near me shouted his approval.
“Fuck yeah! That was hot as fuck. Twins? Good one, my man, good one.” He lifted a half empty glass of bourbon. “I unofficially declare Reginald the winner. And I bow down to you, my friend.”
Fine by me. The relief loosened my shoulders, lungs fully expanding for the first time all night. Now I wouldn’t have to share what I’d done with Beth. I was gonna get off scot free, my secret safe.
But no such luck.
“Yo, Carlton hasn’t gone yet,” grunted Rex. “We all gotta play. You know the rules.”
Fuck. Shit.
These guys were all about games. Unfortunately, these games weren’t interesting anymore, but this was what I’d agreed to do. Shame twisted in my stomach, but there was no way out.
I tried to bullshit at first.
“Naw, we already got a winner, there’s no need. Reggie here did identical twins. What could possibly top that?”
“Hear hear,” yelled one guy drunkenly, sloshing his glass. “To the winner!”
But Rex frowned.
“We made a pact,” he said tightly. “And we all have to go. If you didn’t score anything, just say so,” came that smarmy whine. “It’s all good. Not everyone’s a winner in life,” he said with a smirk.
I was about to lie. I was about to shrug off the comments, and let them think I was a loser. But then a guy I didn’t know so well, Tim, stuck his oar in.
“You like ‘em fat, right? Those girls are never virgins. And you know why? It’s because they can’t get laid so they boink themselves with giant dildos, stuffing their pussies full. It’s really sad the way these chicks crave dick and can’t get it. But hey,” he shrugged, “not my prob.”
And I had to say something then. Because yeah, maybe I’m technically considered a chubby chaser. So what? I like females with meat on their bones. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, and trust me, it’s twice as nice when you try it.
So I spoke then.
“Naw, I got a good one. She’s so good that I didn’t want to share,” I said offhandedly. “Too good for you losers.”
The room quieted down.
“You sure about that?” whined Jonas. “You sure about that?”
But Tim is an asshole through and through, pure evil incarnate.
“She’s fat,” he said dismissively, turning away and helping himself to some more wine. “She’s fat and nasty, Carlton’s embarrassed to show the pics.”
And then I was done. Done done. Beth was no such thing and I couldn’t let these fuckers think that.
“Naw, she’s sweet as honey with thighs like milk. Big thighs sure, but they’re pure cream, with juice spilling out between.”
The guys leaned forward, mouths opening.
“What’s that juice taste like?” asked one.
I pretended to think for a minute.
“Pure sex,” I tossed off. “A female in heat. A sweet girl who had no idea what she was doing, but who gave it to me all the same.”
And falling into a reverie, I told them about Beth’s thick, soft body. How she took me to heaven every time those legs opened. Reluctantly, I even relayed the story of our first time. How the brunette was so shy, blushing like a bride as I snapped pics of that precious hymen.
“So you got pictures?” asked one guy quickly, his dick practically hanging out.
“I got tons of photos,” I nodded. “A shit ton, but it’s too good for you assholes.”
That caused a furor.
“Pictures! Pictures!” chanted some of the guys like we were at a football game.
“Shut the fuck up,” I raged. “I don’t have to show anything. No one said that was required. We only had to get pictures, not show them.”
That threw the crowd into a frenzy then.
“Pictures! Pictures!” some of the guys screamed, like the crowd at an arena. “Pictures!”
Was this a budding riot? Were the slaves gonna stage a revolt if I didn’t show the pics? Should I get out my sword to defend my honor? The gavel banged down hard, Tim calling the group to order.
“Quiet!” he shouted. “Quiet, quiet!”
And after a few seconds, the crowd hushed. But this wasn’t a good hush, this was a restless, uneasy detente, with tension in the air.
“Carlton,” Tim frowned. “What the hell? You have pics but you’re not gonna show them?”
I shrugged.
“Listen, it was never part of the deal. We said we’d take photos, but I’ve had second thoughts. You assholes don’t deserve it,” I said, shooting a glare at the upstarts. “She’s too good for you.”