Big Hard Girls

by Nikki Crescent

  I ran a reverse image search of my cartoon drawing of Tae on Google, and that’s how I found Tae’s account on a sex fantasy website. It was a site where horny boys and girls post pictures of themselves with their faces blurred, and then they write about their sexual fantasies. Tae’s face was blurred on the website, so I was impressed that Google was able to match it to the picture she sent me, with her face as clear as ever. I read her post.

  “I just want a man to pull me aside, rip off my panties, and fuck me without a condom, like a little ragdoll. I don’t even want him to say anything—not even an introduction. I don’t think it’s a rape fantasy, because I would be so much more than willing,” she wrote. My heart fluttered while reading it. She had hundreds of replies from men who wanted to make her fantasy come true—men who would never actually see her in real life; and if they did, they would have no idea. None of them seemed to mind her cock. In fact, many of them wrote about how they wanted to jerk her off while fucking her tiny asshole.

  I found myself once again looking at that lewd image. I looked as closely as I could at that cock, and then a loud knocking brought me directly to my feet, perked up and heart racing. There was someone at my door—probably my landlord coming to tell me he needed to turn the water off for an hour or something.

  I took a deep breath and started towards the door. And then I realized I had a massive erection from staring at Tae’s beautiful naked body and reading her naughty sexual fantasy. I stopped and stared down at the large bulge and then I quickly reached down and wrestled it into the waistband of my pants. Even my heart was trembling. I was a horny mess, but why? I didn’t like cocks. I didn’t like men. And Tae was just a man in women’s clothing. She had some subtle tits, probably from taking lots of hormones, but that didn’t make her a woman, did it? I mean—she still had a cock—surely that made her more masculine than her tits made her feminine, right?

  I opened the door and then an icy blast clenched at my chest. Standing before me was Tae. She was smiling with her hands clasped at her waist, holding a white plastic bag. She was wearing a cute skirt that flared out to her sides, and it hardly covered much at all. I tried to keep my eyes up, away from the skin of her smooth thighs.

  “Sorry to bother you,” she said, with her impressive voice. But that voice wasn’t perfect—maybe just because I knew her reality. It had a bit of a rasp, which any woman could have had I suppose—but I just knew that her rasp came from her Adam’s apple. “I have a bit of a weird question to ask. Can I borrow some water?”

  I still couldn’t will my lips to open enough to respond. I could hear my own heart racing. I was staring at a woman who had sent me a picture of her exposed cock. I managed to cough and then I managed to clear my throat and then I managed to shake my head. “Um, sorry—you want to borrow some water?”

  “I should say boiling water. The electricity is out up above this floor and they don’t know when it’ll be back. I need to boil some noodles for my dinner.” She pulled the bag of spaghetti noodles out from her plastic bag.

  And I stuttered again. “Um—uh—yeah—uh—sure, come on in,” I said, moving aside. She smiled as she brushed by me, and I caught a whiff of that amazing perfume. My legs trembled slightly and my heart fluttered. With every step she took, her skirt bounced just a little bit, and just enough that I could make out the bottom cusp of her perky ass. But I forced myself to look away, knowing that ass technically belonged to a man. Female hormones won’t do anything to change an ass, and I don’t think Tae had undergone any surgeries, especially not on her behind.

  She stopped in my hallway and looked around. And that’s when I realized I had one of my cartoons up on the wall, right next to her head. It wasn’t one of my sexy lewd cartoons, but it was a cartoon in my style—and Tae had supposedly been following me for quite some time, more than long enough to be able to recognize my style.

  But she didn’t look at that picture—not yet. “Which way is the kitchen?” she asked, as I continued to stand next to the door, holding it open as if I was waiting for more people to come inside. I had to strain in order to break free from my paralysis.

  “To your right,” I said before clearing my throat. So she turned to her right, away from that framed cartoon on the wall. I ran up and pulled it down. I quickly tossed it onto the bed in my bedroom and then I closed that door. Then I realized she was now in my kitchen, which was right next to my office. Had I closed my office door? Had I left that picture of her up on my computer? I sprinted over to catch up to her and I saw that my office door was open and that picture was still up on my monitor. But she hadn’t noticed. Her back was to that office door. So I threw myself past her and I slammed that door shut before she had a chance to see into that room. Now my heart was really pounding, trying to break through my ribs. A nausea churned in my gut.

  She turned and looked at me. “Sorry. Am I in your way?” she asked with wide eyes that were amazingly cute.

  “No, not at all,” I said. I slipped a hand behind my head and felt the sweat on the back of my neck. Maybe I should have told her my stove wasn’t working. Maybe I should have just told her I wasn’t comfortable with strangers in my house. Now, I was a paranoid wreck, darting my gaze in every direction, worried one of my drawings was out and about to give me away. Or what if she already saw that drawing on my wall? What if she saw into my office, and now she was just playing it cool? No, no—if she saw a picture of her naked body on my office computer, she wouldn’t still be standing in my kitchen, about to boil some noodles. She would be gone—on her way to the police station to get a restraining order.

  I smiled and watched her and then I realized I was being a creep, standing quietly with her in the kitchen. So I backed off. “If you need anything, just ask. I’ll be cleaning up,” I said. And then I started scouring my house for more of my cartoons. I had a few enlargements up in the living room, which I took down. And I had one in my bathroom, which I also took down, just in case she asked to use my toilet.

  It was actually a good opportunity to get my apartment tidied up. It had been a few days since I’d gone through and straightened my throw pillows, made my bed, swept the floors. I felt a bit like a wasp, buzzing around through my own house, desperately trying to distract myself from the beautiful shemale standing in my kitchen. I hated that she was beautiful. I hated that I knew she was a man.

  I kept finding myself looking over in her direction, looking down at that little skirt of hers. As I dropped to my knees to sweep the dirt into the dustpan, I got a better angle up her tiny skirt. I could see the red tinge of her panties. But I couldn’t spot the bulge, which I knew was there.

  Unless this girl was just a doppelganger. Maybe she just looked a lot like the chick who commissioned me. Maybe she was a sister—and maybe that building in the background of that photo was actually different. There were lots of buildings that looked the same in my town.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” I said from across my apartment.

  “It’s Tae,” she said.

  “Will,” I said. My voice cracked as I said it. So it was her. The name couldn’t have been a coincidence. I couldn’t believe in a coincidence that wild. “How are those noodles coming?” I asked awkwardly.

  “Another five minutes and I’ll be out of your hair,” she said with her big cute smile.

  And then I remembered her post on that fantasy website: her dream of being grabbed by a man and being fucked like a little ragdoll. If I grabbed her now and bent her over and fucked her, would she like it? Or was that just her being slutty on the Internet?

  “Where’s your strainer?” she asked, bending over to check in my bottom cupboards. I could see her whole tush now—the soft skin of that perfect ass. Her cheeks were so round that they swallowed up the red strip of her panties, making it look like she was wearing nothing at all. And now, I could see a bit of bulge. Nothing damning, but I knew what I was looking at.

  “It’s, uh, just in that bottom cupboard, to your left,”
I said, knowing it was actually up above. But she had to bend even further to check that bottom cupboard. I watched as her bum swayed gently as she managed to keep her balance in her little heels. And once again I found myself fantasizing about going up behind her, ripping off her panties, and sticking my still-erect cock in her ass.

  My cock hadn’t relaxed since I’d been looking at that picture. I couldn’t get the image of her naked body out of my head.

  She stood up and looked at me. “It’s not there—unless I’m looking in the wrong spot.”

  So I went into the kitchen. “Let me look.” I sunk down to the bottom drawer and pretended to spend a few seconds looking around. “You’re right. I must have misplaced it.” So I started looking through other cupboards, squeezing a few in before reaching the cupboard I knew the strainer was in. “Ah—here it is.” I handed it to her as I caught another whiff of that amazing perfume. My legs trembled again, almost buckling. She smiled and then turned her back to me so that she could stir her noodles in the boiling water.

  And all I wanted to do was bend her over and stick my throbbing erection into that perfect little butthole. But I wasn’t gay—I wasn’t attracted to her cock. I didn’t even want to think about her cock. It was the rest of her body that was driving me insane. I had to admit that she had the perfect female body, with all the right curves. Her ass was unbelievable. I found myself holding my hands out, wanting to touch her, but terrified of touching her for so many reasons.

  “I think these are done,” she said.

  I smiled and nodded and tried to make my face less red, which seemed impossible. My cock was still throbbing in my pants, still begging to be rubbed and stroked.

  “Mind if I borrow a bowl?” she asked. “Just so I can transport these up to my apartment. I should have grabbed one before leaving my flat—I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Sure,” I said, quickly grabbing a bowl and handing it to her.

  She took her noodles and then she went to my front door. But she stopped before she reached it, looking at the nail on the wall where that picture was. “What did you do with the picture that was here?” she asked. And my heart leapt up into my throat.

  “Picture?” I said.

  She giggled, making my heart melt just a little bit. “There was a picture here,” she said. “I liked it. Anyway—I’ll see you later.” She waved and then she let herself out. But my heart wouldn’t stop pounding. She saw the picture, and she must have recognized my style. Maybe she even recognized the picture. It had been on my site for quite some time, though I took it down before I started posting pornographic images.

  Maybe she didn’t recognize the style. Or maybe she just thought that it was a print I bought. Surely she had no idea that I was the one who drew it.

  CHAPTER V

  Never in my life did I ever have to splash cold water on my face—until that night. My mind was spinning and my cheeks were burning hot. I looked in the mirror and was embarrassed by how red my cheeks were. Were they that red when Tae was in my house? God, she must have thought that I was a lunatic.

  But even after I cooled my face off with the coldest water my tap could muster, I was still unable to get her off of my mind. I ended up back on my computer, reading her posts on that lewd website again. Was she just playing a character, or did she really want someone to grab her and fuck her?

  I clicked on her profile and then I saw another post she made, posting the picture I drew for her. “This commission was worth every penny,” she wrote, and then she included a link to my website. Many of the comments were along the lines of, “I’m going to save up and get him to draw me.” I couldn’t help but smile, even though it meant I was probably going to start getting lots of trap commissions in the coming weeks, which meant I would have to get used to drawing big, throbbing erections.

  And then I went back to her profile and noticed that she’d posted a new thread in the last five minutes. “Sometimes I go to strangers’ apartments in my building pretending like my power is out. I wear the sluttiest skirts that I own and I try my best to seduce them. But I’m so shy that I end up clamming up. I just want someone to fuck me so badly. My little boy pussy has been itching for a stuffing for weeks now. My dildo just isn’t hitting the spot.”

  My heart skipped a beat. Was it just another fantasy? Was it just more character play? Or was she serious? Had she come down to my apartment hoping I would grab her and fuck her?

  I had a friend who lived a few floors up. I sent him a text message. “Is your power out?” I asked.

  And I got my reply five minutes later. “No, why? Is yours?”

  “Was it ever out?”

  “Not lately.”

  Now my heart was really pounding. Maybe it was true. Maybe she had come by hoping I would fuck her. I mean—she was wearing that tiny skirt, which hardly covered anything at all. That’s a dangerous skirt to wear into a stranger’s apartment, unless you’re secretly hoping a guy will stare at your ass and fantasize about sticking his cock in you.

  Her latest post got a reply. “If you came to my apartment, I would fuck you,” the man said. He included a picture of his erect penis.

  And my head was spinning. A little slut had just been in my apartment, begging to be fucked. And could I have done it? Had she explicitly asked me to fuck her, would I have gone through with it, knowing that she was technically a boy and her asshole was biologically male?

  There was a knock at my door, bringing me back to my feet, still with that erection which hadn’t gone away in well over an hour now. Somehow I knew it was her. I knew she was back with my bowl and with her little skirt. But surely it was all just harmless fantasizing. Surely she didn’t really want me to fuck her.

  I made sure to close down my Internet browser before heading to the door. I tucked my erection into my waistband and then I opened the door. And there she was, still dressed like a slutty little doll. Though she was wearing a new wig now, and the only reason I knew it was a wig was because her hair was brunette when she had last been in my apartment, and now it was a whitish-pink colour, and it extended all the way down to her sternum. “I’ve got your bowl,” she said with a big smile, standing up on her toes and holding the bowl with both hands.

  A cold chill buzzed up and down my spine. The fishnets were also new. Her legs were bare before, and now they were clad with crisscrossing black lines. And why would she put on fishnets unless it was really true that she wanted to seduce me?

  “Thanks so much,” I said. I reached out for the bowl but she didn’t give it to me. Instead, she brushed by me, into my apartment.

  “I don’t mind putting it back. It’s the least I can do,” she said. I followed her to my kitchen and then I watched as she looked around. “I just have to remember where you grabbed it from.” She bent over, showing that ass to me one more time—and showing me that she had changed her panties. Now, she wasn’t wearing plain red panties. She was wearing a black lacy thong. Her tight package was being cradled dangerously.

  My heart skipped a beat and I stepped forward. “Here—just leave it on the counter,” I said. But she remained bent over, looking through cupboards for my bowl collection. And obviously I didn’t keep my bowls in a bottom cupboard. No sane person keeps bowls below the counter. She was obviously just trying to show me her tush, trying to draw me in, hoping I would indulge her sexual fantasy.

  And I was close. I was right behind her now. I could smell that perfume and I could feel the warmth radiating off of her body. She seemed so small in front of me. “It just goes up here,” I said, opening the top cupboard.

  “Ah—that makes sense,” she said, standing up on her toes to put the bowl back. Her bum was almost touching me now. A strand of her pink hair brushed my arms as she reached up that bowl. My heart stuttered again.

  And then I put my hands on her sides, just below her tits. Her torso was small. I could nearly touch my fingers together in a ring around her little body. And she froze, but she didn’t say anythi
ng. She wasn’t protesting. Surely if she didn’t want it, she would tell me to get my hands off of her. But what was my plan? If she did push me away, what could I say? That I fell and my hands landed there? That I thought she was going to fall, so I tried to catch her presumptively? She took a deep breath and I felt her chest expand and contract. But she still wasn’t protesting, so I slid my hands around to her front, gently cupping her breasts. She still didn’t say anything—but maybe it was because she was too scared. Maybe she was afraid of making me angry.

  I could feel her heart pounding, even through her small tits. I gently squeezed and she let a little breath out with a whimper. I pulled her in towards me slightly and then I paused again as her bum pressed against my erection, cradling it perfectly. I waited for her to say something—giving her a chance to tell me to get my hands off of her and never touch her again. But she said nothing.

  I slid one of my hands up, over her throat and up her chin. I carefully put my thumb into her mouth and she gently pressed down on it with her teeth. She used the tip of her tongue to tease the tip of my thumb, and that’s when I knew the posts weren’t just attention seeking asides. They were real. She really wanted me to fuck her, even though she didn’t even know who I was.

  I left that thumb in her mouth for her to suck on. I reached down with my other hand, over her abdomen, over her pelvis, and under her skirt. I wrestled my fingers under her thong and I slipped them around her cock. She became frozen and tense, as if she wasn’t sure how I was going to respond. She was probably confused when I started fondling her penis, gently mashing it between my fingers, playing with her ball sack and wishing she were hard and erect and coming into the palm of my hand.

  She let out another little whimper.

  I didn’t know what I was doing. I was gambling with my life. There was nothing stopping her from slapping my hands away and running back up to her apartment to call the police. Within the hour, I could have been slapped with a sexual misconduct change, and then I would be on every registry in the country. I would be without a job and maybe even without an apartment.