Hidden Myth

Something doesn't seem right. My body is cold, but I know I'm still in bed. And what is that sound? It sounds like. . . . Oh, and this feeling!

Opening my eyes, I hear Lisa giggle and see Becky's eyes smiling up at me. My cock is securely fastened between the latter's lips, and Lisa is holding her friend's long chestnut brown hair back and out of the way.

"Good morning, ladies," I say with a groggy smile as I quickly begin to get my bearings.

"We thought we'd wake you this way," Lisa informs me, while Becky goes back to hungrily swallowing my dick. "Hope you don't mind. Besides, it's the least we could do after you had those flowers delivered."

"Not at all," I tell them pleasantly. "Please don't let me interrupt you." Flowers? What flowers?

Lisa laughs as she lets go of her friend's hair and gets between my legs next to Becky. A moment later, I can feel her tongue licking around my scrotum. The talents of these two women are likely going to have me shooting off shortly.

"If you don't slow down," I tell the short brunette, "I'm not going to last long enough to take care of you two."

"Don't worry," Becky's soft voice says as my prick leaves her throat, "We don't have enough time for that anyway." Lisa takes advantage of the free knob, and swallows it between her lips, while her friend's hand runs up and down my saliva slickened rod. "We'll be late if we stick around that long," she states and then shares a kiss with Lisa, my phallus in the middle.

One of their hands, not sure whose and not caring at this point, starts fondling my balls, and both women begin humming, sending delightful sensations down my cock and into my spine.

"Oh, unh," I grunt as I place my hands on the backs of their heads, blasting off a load of sperm. Each jet arcs high, before coming back down and splattering their cheeks.

Feeling slightly spent, my head falls back to my pillow.

"Oh wow," Lisa says, "I love how energized I feel after tasting your cum."

"Yum, me too," Becky agrees before licking my seed from her roommate's face. They share a passionate kiss, swapping my cum and cleaning each other off at the same time.

Smiling, I fall back to sleep until my alarm goes off.

I find myself alone as I get ready for work, surprised to find a couple ants in my kitchen as I make my breakfast.

The flowers the girls had thanked me for are on the counter, and I wonder who they could have been from. A note attached to them simply says, "Thanks for all your help."

Probably meant for someone else I decide, and finish getting ready. I don't mind getting rewarded for someone else's work.

Whistling happily, I get ready for work, until I get in the Orange Bubble.

My car gently hums as I sit in the parking garage below my office building. I know I should go in, but Brooke's gentle scent still resides in here, and as pathetic as it may seem, I don't want to leave. Even as happy as Becky and Lisa make me, I still miss my childhood friend.

Being in here also reminds me of Angela, and everything she's done for me.

"Mr. Snow?" A knock on my window startles me, and I look out to see Guard Lansbury shining a flashlight in at me. "Is everything okay? You've been sitting in here for a while."

For a moment I just stare at her, uncomprehending. How did she know? Then I notice a security camera behind her.

The worry I see in the large woman's blue eyes penetrates my gloom, and I open the door, stepping out.

"I noticed your car sitting down here for a while, but you never came in," she tells me. For once her tone and words are more concerned than raunchy or risqué. "Thought you might be whacking off in here, and I wanted to come check it out." Then again, maybe not.

"Wanna fuck?" I ask, not even caring about my language.

"But I can see that you—wait, what?" Confusion paints her tone as she tries to assimilate my question. I really can't blame her. With the exception of that kiss last Friday, I've never really hit on her. She's made very overt advances towards me; maybe even enough to create an HR complaint, but to be honest it's never really bothered me. Asking her like this is completely out of character for me, but right now I can't seem to care.

My girlfriends, Becky and Lisa, pass through my thoughts. There's a term I'd never thought I'd say, relative to myself. 'Girlfriends.' They'd woke me up slightly early this morning with a fantastic blowjob. And yet, here I sit mooning over two people who've abandoned me, and propositioning a woman whose only real sexual attraction is her inhumanly massive breasts. Oh, and she's a great kisser.

I dismiss those thoughts. What does it matter? What does anything matter? Sooner or later one of TanaVesta's goons is going to come for me, to haul me back to her. Brooke and Angela have abandoned me. I might as well enjoy life as much as I can, while I can.

"Wanna fuck?" I ask again and watch as her cheeks turn red in embarrassment.

"I. . . but you. . . um. . . I mean. . . huh?" She's actually kind of cute with that bewildered look on her face, a slight flush to her cheeks.

"Of course, we'll have to find a spot that doesn't have any security cameras watching," I continue as if she understood me completely.

"Are you feeling alright Mr. Snow?" she returns to her original thoughts. Almost like a computer that gets rebooted by an illegal command.

"Fine enough," I lie to her cheerily, "and call me Lyden. Of course, if you'd rather not. . ." I leave that hanging, not truly caring one way or another.

Her blue eyes blink a few times, as she realizes that I'm actually serious. I watch as she chews on her cheeks, trying to come to a conclusion. "Come with me, I know just the spot," she says as I see steely determination enter her eyes.

Somehow I know that she feels this might be some trick at her expense. With her size, her childhood would have been rife with cruel teasing. Flashes of mean kids taunting her because she was overweight, flit through my mind. I see a younger version of her, as an eighteen year old, going to her senior prom with some guy that looks like he was custom built as a linebacker. I see him dancing with Lansbury, and know that this is the highlight of her life at this point. The mental imagery blurs, and I see the two alone in a hotel room, as Jennifer (I now know that's her first name) gets undressed, expecting to finally lose her virginity. Why isn't he getting undressed, she wonders, as she frees her enormous breasts from her bra. She blushes rather prettily under his gaze. Just as she starts to tug her panties down, already soaked with anticipation, the door to their room bursts open. Half the football team streams in, some with cameras, pointing and laughing at 'the delusional heifer'.

I stop in my tracks as my mind pulls out of hers, and I have a better glimpse into this woman. I now understand that her raunchiness and general attitude is a shield: a way to protect herself against anything like that ever happening again.

I also know that she's still a virgin. She's never allowed anyone to get that close again.

Shaking my head, I try to come to grips with this new ability of mine, probably acquired from Angela. Despite all the conversations I've had with this woman, I was never aware of this side of her. Somehow it makes her more human to me, rather than just a fixture in my office building.

"Jennifer, wait," I say to the large woman's back.

"I was wondering when you'd spring the joke," she tells me, and I feel a lance of emotional pain pierce me. She thinks I'm just like those bullies from high school.

"No, that's not it," I try to say, but she talks right over me.

"You want to know the sad thing?" Her back, still turned to me, is stiff, and I can hear that her tone is bland, emotionless, as she talks. "You've always treated me well. You never treated me like the fat tub of lard that I am. I thought. . . I mean, after that kiss last week, I thought that maybe. . . ."

"Jennifer, you don't understand." Placing my hand on her shoulder, I'm not prepared for her to spin around and jab a finger into my chest. Apparently her arms are rather strong, as my chest is now smarting where she'd poked me. I can't miss the tears in her eyes.

"I don't understand?" she demands of me, jabbing my chest with her finger again and knocking me back a step. "Oh, I understand just fine. Do you think I don't notice how people look at me? That I don't realize that I'm a large woman? Yes, Mr. Snow, I understand just fine what a delusional heifer I am!"

Before I have a chance to respond, she turns and storms off. For a larger woman, she can move faster than I'd thought.

Now I really feel like shit. She's always treated me well, if a bit like a sexual object instead of a human. And even though my intentions weren't to hurt her, I'd gone and done that anyway.