I took a seat on the couch and tried to process what had just transpired between my BFF and me, but after a few minutes of confusion I concluded that this was some ((real serious shit))—and there was still plenty of alcohol and MDMA in my blood, so I was more inclined towards doing fun shit.
I asked myself, ((Is it too late to knock on Judy’s door?)) before remembering I had a handy gadget which would let me leave a message which she could reply to once she was awake.
I hit send without spell-checking, and 15 seconds later heard a rapping on my door. I opened it, and I was not surprised to discover who was on the other side.
She strolled in with a big grin on her face, pink sweatpants with a rainbow stripe around her legs and T-shirt bearing a word in a script I struggled to decode, alongside a Statue of Liberty altered to have a skull for a face and a pope hat for a crown. “Cool shirt,” I said.
Without a word she planted her ass on the couch—the corners of her lips curled mischievously, her eyes glowing with ecstatic curiosity—and waited for me to dish.
I joined her on the couch and poured her all the tea she could drink. “Before we went inside, she gave us pretty chokers.” She nodded, her eyes burning a little brighter. “With name tags. When we got in line, she showed me the pet end of a leash.” She nodded again, and her excitement grew more intense still. I waited because I wanted her to speak her mind.
My mate’s impatience won. “And…? Did she hook it on?”
“I put it on myself.”
“Oo-ho-ho-ho-ho! You are this lady’s loyal pet!”
“Yep. But… I haven’t gotten to the part that’s really gonna tickle you.”
“What can be more ticklish than a leash?” And yet her tone of voice should have been an indicator that she knew well that my night had been as stimulating as being tied up and having every square inch of my body tortured with feathers.
“She let me off my leash… and told me to go have fun with other pets… and I met a very cute one, who proved quite fun indeed.”
She leaned forward in anticipation. “How cute are we talkin’?”
“Enough for me to let him stick his thick cock in my pussy and give me…” I leaned in. “…a creampie.” Her broad grin evaporated. “Twice.”
She sat there, silent. An anthill of envy and a mountain of lust warped her face as her teeth dug into her bottom lip and her eyes stared into my own.
“No condom. You have competition, Judith Lucas. Fresh competition.” I placed a hand on her upper thigh. “My egg should be making her debut at the grand ball any second now.”
Suddenly she scooped me up, causing me to yelp and giggle, dropped me down upon the bed, took off her boxers, and lifted up my skirt. “My God, you dirty, dirty, slutty girl! No panties, for easy access!” Grinning wide, she got on top of me and kissed me, grinding her cock against my leg to drive me mad with hot anticipation. “Listen,” she explained, “every time you fuck someone else while you’re fertile, I demand that you let me fuck you afterwards so that my sperm can fight theirs to the death over your egg. And when you get pregnant, there’ll be a prenatal paternity test which will conclusively prove I’m the other mom. Unless it proves I’m not the sperm donor, in which case I will try extra hard the next time you give me an opportunity to get you pregnant, whether that’s one month later or nine.”
I chuckled. “Yeah! But don’t paternity tests cost a lot of money?”
“I will pay for one whenever you get knocked up. And we’ll make bets on who the sperm donor is. And if I lose the bet… I’ll change my legal name to ‘Cucky McCuckface’…” I laughed. “…and when I go out into public I’ll wear a sign around my neck proclaiming that my sperm are slower and weaker than those of my rivals, and it’ll have an illustration of a bunch of other people’s sperm, all muscular and attractive and dressed up as a mob of jocks, beating up one of my sperm, who’s ugly and weak and wearing a pair of coke bottle glasses and a pocket protector. And I expect you to belittle me for failing to live up to my end of the bargain we made as partners of fertilizing you reliably, as well as mock my tiny cock and pathetic, defective testicles and threaten to leave me over my deficient virility. Does that work for you, Andy dear?”
I giggled all along as she shared her elaborate plans for losing the sperm competition, and I cackled when she laid out my role in her kink. “Of course! Sounds like a blast, I’m all on board!” I kissed her briefly. “But if you want to beat the other guy’s sperm so, so badly, why are you delaying your attack?”
“You have a point.” She grinned and moved herself between my knees—then plunged her face into my puss and loudly slurped. More giggles came from me as Judy vacuumed what remained of the three loads of jizz out of my cunt, then brought her lips to mine and passed the snowball into my mouth—I swallowed it and hummed my satisfaction. “Delicious—too bad I haven’t tasted yours yet.”
“A failure we ought to rectify as soon as possible.”
“Certainly… but let’s save that for another day. You’ve culled their numbers, so now tell me: why aren’t you inside me yet?”
“Cuz foreplay makes it more pleasurable. Besides, I can’t touch my lips to yours when I’m inside you cuz you’re so damn tiny.”
I reached down and extracted a glob of my lubricant, and with it massaged the tip of her cock, causing her eyes to close and her teeth to clamp down on her lower lip. “The goal here isn’t pleasure, Judy, it’s to get your sperm inside me so you knock me up.” I stroked her tightly. “Shove your cock up inside my cunt… and fuck me till it’s so full of cum that when you pull out… white stuff gushes everywh—ahh—! Yes—! Fuck me—!” I had successfully persuaded her to stick it in me, and her humping proved enthusiastic and satisfying.
“Ah, this angle is a little awkward.” She pulled out to shove a couple pillows under my ass and we resumed our fucking the Catholic way while she held my legs up in a V—without kissing, without playing with each other’s nipples, without playing with my clit, without skin contact beyond the bare minimum required for mammalian copulation—there was no explicit intimacy or romance, only our instincts driving us to procreate.
And yet! It was the most exciting, the most intimate, the most romantic sex I had enjoyed up to that point, because the stakes were the highest I’d ever consciously played, because this time we were, with deliberate abandon, flouting the core goal of recreational coitus as blatantly as possible. Her humping did not taper in intensity over time, but remained consistent in the enthusiasm of her thrusts and length of her strokes as she plunged her tip all the way inside me then pulled back to my entrance, giving me that lovely body high as she rubbed the first inch of my cunt.
I watched her between my outstretched legs and thought to myself, ((She is such a beautiful, magnificent, sexy beast. I really would like to bear her children…)) Rather than shoot down that premature idea, I entertained it till she grunted and she panted, and I felt her twitch inside—