She’s Overqualified

He’d made the mistake of saying to that generously endowed barmaid: “Why don’t you get your top off, luv?”

Naturally, she hadn’t gotten the joke. Nor should she have. It had been a condescending joke. A sarcastic jab designed to shame her into putting said top back on.

But in order to get those bounteous baps back into containment she’d have to detach her babies first. He could already imagine the cartoonish cork popping noises this would make. An ill-advised giggle escaped his lips.

“Does this offend you, bitch?”

He immediately wiped the smile off his face. “It’s just they’re…” He waved at her impressively proportioned assets. “…so in your face. As naked as a politician’s career ambitions, one could say.”

He thought this clever little quip would defuse the situation. It didn’t.

“Oh, could one?”

Her voice dripped so much sarcasm he could feel his manhood drowning in it.

“Well, I happen to be feeding my babies, motherfucker! Is that alright with you?!”

He looked away, face hot with embarrassment and indignation. How dare she shame him? He wasn’t the one with his tits out in public. And with a Walrus pup dangling from each one, no less! Look at them! Mouths clamped down like starving leeches after a downpour!

“Yeah, you better step off before I come over there and knock you off!” she practically grrred.

He made the mistake of shooting back a reproachful look. Now the mother Walrus was really mad.

“Oh, you want me to fuck you up? Is that what you want?!”

The other patrons picked up their glasses and shuffled to a safe distance.

His look changed to one of panic as she then flopped right on over. Even her babies glommed harder to each bulbous teat. Like hapless pufferfish trying not to get bucked off of four massive life buoys.

“Lady, I don’t want any trouble now!”

“Too bad, motherfucker! Trouble’s coming for you!”

He was waving his arms like two placating windmills now. “Wait! I have a proposal!”

And that’s how the Walrus got hired to be the Badger’s campaign manager, and how they won the next election. It sure beat being a barmaid on minimum wage.

© All rights reserved 2022

All Risk and No Reward

“This is nice.”

I had to admit it was, her soft pillows with their hard buttons bunched up over my belly like that. And the rivulets of commingled sweat pooling in her cleavage beneath come hither eyes and an all-too-knowing smile. Well, that was kinda nice too. I loved that she wanted to try.

If only I could feel something stirring.

She squirmed against me in the narrow near dark of the cupboard. Her flannel shirt was undone, spread open, wife beater hiked up to reveal her aforementioned charms. My own shirt was hanging off the arm closest to the plywood doors that threatened to pop open with every thrub and downbeat. Outside, the party was thumping full throttle. Inside, we were taking a risk. We both had no pants on.

“I need you in me.”

Her bottom lip quivered, just enough to let me know she meant it. She squirmed some more, but neither of us could move nor do much of anything. Perhaps this wasn’t the sexiest idea we’d ever had. I took a deep breath. She winced.

“Sorry!” I squeaked. “Sorry sorry sorry…”

“It’s fine.” She gritted sweetly at me. “It’s fine, my big boy.”

I tried to adjust my breathing, but this only made tears come to her eyes. My girlfriend was no wilting flower, so it wasn’t the pain and discomfort that was getting to her. It was the knowledge that this kinky tryst was clearly not working out. She knew it. I knew it. It was only a matter of who was going to admit it first.


“Don’t call me that!” Her eyes stabbed through me with such heartbreak and longing. “Call me slut. Or whore. Just fucking nail me. Please.”

I cast my gaze about this stuffy box with all the enthusiasm of a wilted fly-fisher on holidays at the fiery lake of hell.

“I’m so sorry.”

God, I sounded so pathetic. Even Gehenna deflated visibly at this point.

“Do you remember our first time?” she said softly, almost to herself.

“I do.”

“You said sorry then.”

I took a breath and added, “Because I was so small.”

She looked up at me. “And I said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make you big enough.’”

We didn’t say anything after that. Really, what was there to add?

My name is Nether. I’m too large, and I have a tiny dick.

© All rights reserved 2019