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The Pick-Up

Written by marknew742 :: [Friday, 19 August 2005 15:53] Last updated by :: [Sunday, 30 December 2012 15:50]

The Pick-Up


by Marknew










John shifted his butt on the bar stool, breathed deeply and gazed at the beauty next to him. She held his look and smiled slightly when his eyes drifted to her generous bosom, most of which was visible above her low neckline. She lifted a strand of blond hair from her eye, her forearm casually brushing against her breast, briefly revealing more of its delectable fleshiness as it wobbled before regaining its delectable repose inside.


He knew she was waiting for him to say something, to make the move he wanted so badly to make. Two guys at a nearby table looked at him enviously. "Why him and not me?" their expressions said. If they only knew! Although he wanted her, he would gladly trade places with them. Why do I DO this!!? Because I'm a guy, he answered himself. Because I want to get laid. Because it's been eight months. Because this girl is gorgeous. Fucking gorgeous. And totally willing.


More willing than he was, actually, under the circumstances. Because it was hopeless. Why bother?


She must have noticed his expression change, because she said, "What's the matter? You're not actually worried I'll say no?" She grinned and turned her torso, pushing her bust out even more. The blood rushed through his body and at the same time he heard one of the guys nearby groan with desire. He couldn't stand it. Fuck! Why not? Hasn't it been long enough?! Maybe … He reached for her hand and slipped off the stool. She followed instantly, positioning herself so his arm fell around her shoulder and her hip nudged the most important part of his groin. "Oooh, that's exactly what I wanted to know!" she said, rubbing against him. "You have nothing to worry about. And neither do I!" she cooed.


Make that a wish, he said to himself, and paid their tabs.


He drove the fifteen minutes to his house, his interest continually rising as her body, facing his, undulated in ever-changing positions. She pressed her face sensuously into the soft leather of the seat, her lips already kissing him through the air. He felt every kiss.


She murmured admiration of his sizable house as they entered and he guided her to the couch. "A drink?" he asked.


She rolled her tongue around her lips slowly and undid the first two buttons of her blouse. "From me," she replied, and arched her back. He completed the unbuttoning and reached behind her, hands trembling with eagerness to free her glorious breasts. They looked like they'd be even better than …


There was a knock. She turned, concerned. "Who's that?"


Another knock, even harder. The door shook. "Ignore it!" he said, his hands working her thick bra-strap. Four hooks! She was so busty, so soft, so willing, so –


There was a whistling sound, then feet on the stairs.


"Somebody's inside!" she said.


"Oh no!" he groaned.


A frighteningly attractive, fit redhead strode confidently downstairs, her large bosom and erect nipples pushing out her top, barely bouncing even without a bra.


"Who's she?" Barbie asked.


"I'm Sup … Sue!" the redhead said, not smiling.


"I'm Barbie." She turned anxiously to John. "You didn't tell me …"


The redhead took John's hand, pulled him away and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Put your toys away, Barbie. 'Ken's' with me."




"He's mine, slut. Shoooo!"


Barbie stood amazed, her mouth wide open. "John. Are you going to let her --


John turned, his body pressed tightly against the redhead's. "I can't stop her, Barbie. I …"


With one finger, the redhead turned John's head back to her and pushed him down into a long kiss. She put two fingers on his butt and held him close against her. "Mmmmmm, ni-i-i-i-i-i-ce and ha-a-a-r-r-r-r-d," the redhead said, wriggling her hips. "Just how I like it."


Barbie looked at them, shocked. "What's wrong with you, John? You're the man. If you don't want her, push her away!"


"But she's … she's too strong," John said.


Barbie angrily pulled John out of the redhead's arms and John flew across the room.


"Isn't he a weakling?" the redhead said. "Kinda sad!"


"I'm not! She pushed me!" John said, trying to explain. "No! Don't hit her, Barbie! She's got super-"


"No one calls ME a slut!" Barbie was shouting and slapped the redhead, who, to John's surprise, stumbled backward and yelped in pain.


"She's faking, Barbie. You don't realize who she is!"


"I don't CARE who she is," Barbie replied.


John rushed to get between them, but somehow he tripped and fell.


"He's clumsy too," the redhead smirked, rubbing her face where Barbie slapped her.


"She tripped me!"


"Now, how could I do that – from way over here?" she said innocently. "You better go, Barbie doll. What do you want anyway with a weak, clumsy, faithless betrayer like John?" She sauntered over to him. "Hard day, dear?" She knelt down to kiss his neck while holding his shoulder with one hand and putting the other across his crotch, vibrating her fingers with great speed, almost invisibly, against his stiffened member.


"Lissa, no!" John pleaded and tried, unsuccessfully, to push her hand away and stand up. But he couldn't move, not even an inch, as though he were as weak as a baby or only pretending to resist.


"But she said her name was Sue!" Barbie said, even more confused, and then stared, amazed, as a dark, sticky stain appeared on John's pants. Barbie wrinkled her nose.


"He's so quick on the trigger," the redhead said disdainfully. "Why DO I bother?"


"Me too. Why DO I go to bars?!" Barbie said, buttoning her blouse. "You're pathetic!", she declared to John and marched out.


Lissa, also known as Superlass, aimed her superbreath at the wet spot on John's trousers, drying it instantly, and with two fingers lifted him to his feet. "WHEN will you learn, John? There's no one for you but me, and there never WILL be. NEVER! EVER! EVER!!"

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