“Max, come on, there must be something we can sell, all we need is a hundred and twenty dollars!” Caroline called, looking through her closet to see if any of her clothing might’ve matured into a level of vintage.
“If you want to give a handjob, you can probably find some takers. Guys are into girls who look grossed out the way you do.”
“This is serious, Max. Come on, with all the crap you buy, there must be something worth something—”
“Yo, why is this about my stuff? My stuff is worthless, that’s why I get it for so cheap. Well, that and I let the thrift store guy get a look at my cleav.”
Caroline sighed. She was so not in the mood for more of Max’s innuendo. “Look! How’s this: I’ll look at your stuff and see if anything strikes me as valuable and you can look at my things?”
“Well, your things are kinda small, but heck, I won’t say no to them.”
“Max!” Caroline cried, her patience unable to keep up with Max’s bottomless well of apathy. And the jokes she’d probably make if she heard Caroline say bottomless out loud.
“Shit, nigga, you’re the one who’d probably going to recognize a Gucci original belt or something. Go ahead. Can I just sit down for a while and relax?”
“So you’re not going to help at all?”
“Nah. And it’s my crap that’s getting sold that way, so I hope you appreciate my sacrifice.”
Caroline growled to herself, but had to admit a certain logic to Max’s cynicism. She didn’t think there was anything of hers she could hock for any real sum of money; not something that Max could recognize.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” Max moaned as she sank into an easy chair in the living room. “I have been on my feet all day. Momma needs her shoes off before the foot fetishists aren’t into her anymore.”
“If you’re not helping, can you at least be quiet?” Caroline asked on her way to Max’s bedroom.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll close my eyes and have one of those daydreams where I’m bound and gagged.”
“That could come true one of these days!” Caroline snapped, shutting the bedroom door behind her.
Max called after her: “Aww, you’re so supportive!”
Once in Max’s bedroom, Caroline could only sigh at what a mess everything was. How could someone whose makeup is so immaculate live in such a pigsty? Doesn’t she know you can feel completely upper middle class with just a little vacuuming and a hamper?
She went to Max’s desk—why Max needed a desk, she had no idea—and went through the drawers. “Jesus,” Caroline muttered. First try and she got ben-wa balls, a buttplug, a double dildo… they looked well-made, but there couldn’t be much of a secondary market for those.
Maybe if they knew Max Black had used them. Not that Caroline liked to skirt so close to prostitution. No selling anything that had been on their lower bodies, that was her hard and fast rule.
Caroline opened a second drawer. There was a Sony Handicam just lying there. “Hey, Max, does this thing work?”
Max didn’t answer. Possibly she’d fallen asleep. And it would probably be that the Handicam worked fine, she’d just gotten bored of it one day, or ran out of batteries and forgotten to ever get new ones.
Caroline picked up the Handicam and opened up the little viewfinder display that let you see what you were filming, or what you filmed, without you shoving your eye into a little peephole.
And on the screen, there was Max, aiming the camera at herself in the dresser mirror. Clearly admiring the jutting heaviness of her bra-clad breasts with a naughty smile.
“Get a good look, future me,” Max grinned. “These babies will start to sag eventually, but right now they’re fucking great. Oh, note to self: save up for implants. When the girls go bad, I’m trading up to silicone. Maybe I could get some with helium so they stay up without a bra.”
“That would never work, Max,” Caroline chided from the future, unable to keep a fond grin off her face at her roommate’s antics. “And your boobs have never been restrained by the laws of physics before, so why should they start when you’re thirty-five?”
She couldn’t take her eyes off Max’s endowments. Especially when Hagen, one of Max’s regular flings, came up behind her, taking her melon-like tits in his hands. Caroline saw the sparkling delight in Max’s eyes as she turned her head and was kissed by Hagen, his mouth tenderly against hers even while his fingers reached into her bra and attacked her stiff nipples.
Caroline’s own thoughts surprised her. She shouldn’t be watching this. Instead of the embarrassment she should feel at finding Max’s sex tape, she found the idea of watching Max get fucked very…
You should be ashamed of yourself, she said inwardly. But she kept watching as Hagen pulled off Max’s underthings, then pulled her down to the bed with him. The camera followed: now Max was holding it above herself, pointed down to show herself naked and lying on her back, her thighs open, her moist cunt exposed.
Hagen, as naked as she was, climbed on top of her. His big cock shafted out from his body hair, jerking and twitching with arousal. At the very tip, a clear drop of precum waited to lubricate his way inside.
“Geez, Max, you’re such a slut,” Caroline muttered, watching Hagen slowly drift down to Max. The camera shook when Max took one hand off it; she reached down to the rigid length of his member and stroked it lovingly. Caroline saw it all; Max’s eager fingers guided Hagen’s tip to the willing lips of her womanhood.
Stop it! Caroline reprimanded herself. You shouldn’t be watching this! It’s such an invasion of privacy!
She shut her eyes for several seconds, shut them tight. Erasing all vestiges of what she’d seen. She had no right to know what Max looked like naked or how much Max enjoyed it when she was getting fucked. So when she opened her eyes, it would only be to turn the camera off and pretend this had never happened.
It never occurred to Caroline to shut the screen while her eyes were still closed.
She opened her eyes. Now the camera was trained on Hagen, naked, his strong body brown from the sun. He stood over Max; Caroline recognized the view from where she sat (when had that happened?) on the bed.
He stared down at Max, his eyes clearly loving the view. Hunger, sheer hunger, burned so hot that Caroline felt the heat.
“I want you,” Max whimpered from behind the camera. “I need you. Can you make my hole yours? Hmm? Can that big dick stuff me until all I want is to be your fuck slave? I think it can. I think I’m a big enough slut that a hard cock is enough to break me. You can’t hold back, that’s the thing. You have to know that I’m a perfect little cock holster for you. Can you treat me like that, baby? Like I was built to have a big prick like yours inside me? Show me. Show me I have to be your cum dumpster and not anyone else’s. You have a nice hard dick, but I’m not going to treat it like my master until it’s all the way in me. Fuck me so deep you can barely get it out again. Even though I’d love for you to come in my face. But before you decorate this body, you gotta show me you’re in charge of it.”
Caroline watched, breathless, as Max reached out and gripped the dangling cable of his member. He was already hard—Caroline saw that Max’s fingers could barely sink into his bloated girth—but now he really came to life.
His prick thickening, throbbing, pushing forward so that Max’s hand didn’t seem like anything, just a collar on his fat masculinity. Max held the camera pointed directly at the dripping knob. Disbelievingly, her hand moved up and down the rigid shaft.
Caroline’s fingers twitched. She knew if she could hold that dick, she’d be reveling in it like Max was. She could only imagine that stiffness, that heat, that promise of bliss that she could reach out and touch.
“If I’m not in charge of you,” Hagen said, “how come all you wanna do is serve me?”
Max laughed. “That’s a good point, baby. I guess I’m just a real whore for big dicks. You better fuck me hard before another one comes along and I chase after it. I can be faithful, you know. I’m way too smart to miss out on getting reamed out for the sake of mediocre dick. So just pick me up, slam me into that wall, and hollow me out. Then I’ll know better than to blow any other dudes.”
“That simple, huh?”
Max suddenly turned the camera around to face herself. Caroline squeaked a little; it was like she’d been discovered in her voyeurism. “I, Max Black, do solemnly swear that I will only cheat on George Hagen with guys I’m reasonably certain will fuck me better than he can.” She swung the camera back to Hagen. “Ball’s in your court, stud.”