The Prom King and The Size Queens

"I heard you got a 'C' in math this quarter. Congrats."

"And I heard you got a 'D' in cleavage. Or maybe even a double 'D.' Congrats."

Hilary mock-punched him on the shoulder.

"So how does it feel to be the big man on campus tonight?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, technically speaking, Peoria Tech is not a campus," Hilary began to explain in her characteristically academic manner. "A campus is defined as the grounds or buildings of a college or university. However, my use of the phrase 'BMOC' carried a double meaning. First of all, 'big man' refers to the notoriously large size of your endowment. With a measurement in the double digits, you likely are at least two standard deviations beyond mean penis size. Secondly, you are a proverbial 'big man on campus' by bringing two dates to Prom. Though monogamy is withering away as a social norm, only dedicated playboys have the savoir-faire..."

"Savoir-what?"

"Savoir-faire. I suppose you would call it 'game.' Only a dedicated playboy would have sufficient game to score a date with two desirable females. Further, Carrie and Casey openly display a bisexual orientation that hints the three of you will enjoy a ménage a trois after the dance. Many would consider such an arrangement to be the pinnacle of masculine prestige. Ergo, you are a proverbial 'big man on campus.'"

"Where are you going to college, Hilary?"

"Harvard. Early admission."

"Where are you going to college?"

"Bradley University."

"I didn't know they notified anyone yet."

"I meant I am going there tomorrow. There's a sorority chick I'm banging."

Hilary mock-punched him again.

"Oh, Lance... I don't know what I will do without your rapier wit."

"Rapier what?"

"Never mind. But I always wanted to ask you something personal. Is that OK?"

Lance nodded. He didn't quite understand where this conversation was heading. As with all girls he fancied, Lance already had become quite 'personal' with Hilary that quarter in the most intimate and orgasmic of ways. What did she want to know?

"Lance?" she asked. "Does it ever bother you that most of your interactions with the female gender center around your penis?"

"Huh?"

"What matters to you besides girls?"

"Umm..." said Lance, trying to decipher her statement. "I sort of like football. And bodybuilding."

"I see. Of course, you must realize that those sports place an emphasis upon prevailing in situations that require body and fitness. That itself is a very gendered practice that reinforces hegemonic masculinity."

"Uh. OK?"

"I don't mean to insinuate that the phallus is not an important element in the construction of male identity. Biology is destiny. Yet I gather from your speech and behavior that you define yourself in terms of your penis to a much greater degree even than most 'Lager lads' or other working-class men. I need hardly comment upon the temptation for you to embrace a hypersexualized persona. Clearly, the size of your endowment has allowed you to enjoy a much larger and diverse body of sex partners than typical males. Further, you are able to provide them with an intense degree of pleasure that borders on the sublime. Accordingly, you enjoy an enhanced social status at this school despite your disdain of community standards. But let me ask you something directly. Is there nothing else besides sex that carries meaning in your life?"

Lance paused for a moment and mulled over her question.

"Nope."

As Hilary droned on, his gaze drifted once more to her breasts. The straight-A jezebel sported a rocking body underneath her dowdy wrap dress. Their afterschool meetings had not been very productive as of late. They could barely get through two or three math problems before the teen stud had his tutor on her back. After a mind-blowing powerfuck, she usually just did Lance's homework for him and sent the hunky himbo on his way.

"Moon to Lance," she joked. "Are you listening?"

His attention had shifted to the dance floor. Casey and Carrie made a very hot couple. The lipstick lesbians slow-danced their way in his direction. A few male students discreetly snapped photos as the pair locked lips. That kiss would fuel a school year's worth of masturbatory fantasies at Peoria Tech. But Lance would get to live out their fantasies in just a couple hours. Even by his own elevated standards of pleasure, tonight would be special.

Without hesitation, he approached his dates.

"May I cut in?" he asked Carrie with a smile.

"As long as I get the next dance," she replied.

A mid-tempo number started. Lance guided his partner to an empty part of the dance floor where they could talk.

"I don't know much longer I can take this, babe," he confessed.

"Don't call me 'babe,' babe," she retorted.

"Aw, c'mon. I am sure that Carrie told you about me. Aren't you curious about 'The Lance Leo Experience'?"

"About as much as a colonoscopy."

Shot down in flames! Casey apparently did not like to flirt.

"May I cut in?" asked Carrie, coming to the rescue. She knew Casey did not suffer fools, especially male fools. Lance let her into their circle but didn't leave. Instead, he draped his arms over their shoulders and drew them closer. The move carried risks. Carrie probably wanted to speak to her girlfriend privately about him. But he knew where such a conversation would lead. Casey would back out of the plan. Instead, he decided Carrie and him would have to seduce her together.

While Lance possessed a silver tongue, seduction was not an act of words as much as a physical expression of desire. Its secret involved the fluent usage of body language. With his hands resting upon the small of their backs, he intuited their emotions. Carrie's posture felt relaxed whereas Casey remained stiff as a board. However, her muscles gradually un-tensed as the beat of the music went on.

"Don't be scared," Carrie whispered into her ear. "He won't be like the others. I've been with my share of guys and none of them came close."

Lance put one of his legs between Casey's. With his hands on either thigh, he gently rotated his hips. Their contact was subtle yet sensual. He switched legs. His massive tool ran down the inseam of his other pant leg. She could feel the bulge underneath the material. Carrie got behind Casey and nudged her girlfriend forward. Her skirt rode up a bit. Lance could feel her bare inner-thighs and the warmth of her pussy through his slacks. Her muscles flexed in rhythm of the music. Casey began to lose herself in the moment.

"Do you feel that?" he murmured into Casey's other ear. "It's big enough to share. You won't be a third wheel."

As the song wound down, Lance made his move. The ladykiller bet small at first. He leaned forward toward Carrie and gave her a warm kiss on the mouth. Her lips parted. His tongue darted into her mouth. Lance felt her body turn to jelly. She gently humped her crotch against his thigh, already aching to be filled with his massive tool. His mouth finally pulled away and he let Carrie take the lead.

What happened next seared itself into Lance's memory for the rest of his life. Casey and Carrie came together in a long erotic kiss. He saw their tongues sliding against each other. He felt the heat of their quickening breath inches from his face. They each leaned into him to maintain their balance upon stiletto heels. And when his companions briefly pulled apart, a hand pushed the back of his head towards their faces to join the fray.

Their lips met in a three-way kiss. Lance needed a moment to orient to the novel situation. At first, the presence of two females divided his focus. He did not know whom to please. However, his instincts took over as their embrace turned steamier. Though Carrie initiated the exchange, Lance slowly assumed the lead. Though a kiss only signified 'first base,' the master of seduction knew how to escalate it swiftly and decisively into a home run. His organ throbbed with excitement. He was about to strike the ball out of the park and score his first double conquest.

As the music wound down, they all needed a moment to get her bearings. Casey was breathing a little heavier than usual and had a glazed look in her eyes. Students who had not been dancing were staring at them. She felt as though the three of them had just had sex in a roomful of people.

"I need to powder my nose," said Carrie, taking her girlfriend by the arm. "You do too."

Lance strode back to the punch bowl. The other students stared at him with a mixture of awe and envy.

"I must confess that witnessing your osculation proved exciting," said Hilary.

"You again?"

"Where did your consorts go?"

"To powder their noses."

"They probably are conferring about you," she noted. "I hope they reach a positive verdict."

Lance saw Carrie and Casey emerge from the ladies' room and quickly head in his direction.

"The jury wasn't out long at that one."

With a girl on either side of him, they hooked their arms around his.

"Lance," ordered Carrie. "Take us home."

With that, the two girls marched their companion toward the exit. The prom would still go on another two more hours but none of them desired to postpone joy a second longer. They took the long way out. Not a few guys gave him a thumbs-up. Not a few girls winked at him. Lance considered discretion to be the better part of valor but not even he could resist a victory lap. As the star quarterback of the football team, the baller was no stranger to the adulation of the crowd. But Lance felt as if he had scored ten touchdowns at that moment. The teen was about to live out every bro's fantasy.

The night was quiet and cool. His escorts guided their studly date across the parking lot to a waiting stretch limo. Casey threw open the back door. Casey shoved him inside. He scooted toward a leather-upholstered couch that occupied the back of the vehicle. It easily could hold all three of them. However, Carrie grabbed him by the collar and yanked him away.

"Sorry, Lance," she mocked him. "No boys allowed."

Lance took the seat opposite them with a scowl. The teen stud had promised Carrie to play nice no matter how badly he wanted to bang them. Never in his life had Lance felt such overpowering urges. His skin tingled. His breath grew heavy. His cock almost ripped through the fabric of his slacks. He knew his appetites were greater than other men. On most school nights, Lance performed a 'hat trick,' enjoying sex with three different partners in a single day. And he still needed to wank himself four or five times on top of that. So after nearly 24 hours of abstinence, his entire body screamed for release.

The motor of the limo rumbled to life. The sound prompted Carrie and Casey to kiss each other. Their caresses became much more heated than what they displayed in public. Lance never saw two girls make out like that except in porn. The urge to touch himself almost overpowered him. Lance only refrained for fear of ruining his pants. A fly landing on his dick would trigger an orgasm. He never had gotten this close to the edge without a great deal of foreplay.

The limo stopped at the gated entrance to Casey's home. The electronic doors slowly opened and the vehicle drove up a hill. Her mansion stood on the other side. Casey's father owned a local construction firm and was one of the richest men in Peoria. Besides a large plantation-style home with tall white columns lining the front, the grounds had a swimming pool, basketball court, guesthouse, and four-car garage. With Casey's parents out of town, the trio would have the run of the place all weekend.

As soon as the car stopped at the double-door entrance, his companions bolted out of the vehicle. Lance followed a few paces behind. Before he could close in on them, the girls scurried into a bathroom off the vestibule and locked the door behind them. "Just a sec, hon," Carrie told him. "We gotta tinkle." Lance grumbled. Powdering their noses was just one thing but why did these chicks have to piss together?

He looked at his watch and counted out the seconds. Five minutes passed. Lance tried to listen in on their conversation but no longer could hear their voices behind the door. Finally, he knocked. No one answered. He opened the door. The bathroom was empty. There was a second door on the other side of the room. It stood wide open. His phone vibrated. He read the message: "Seek and ye shall find."

Lance explored the palatial home. The billiards room was empty. So was the kitchen and living room. He ascended the double staircase in the vestibule. Lance opened the doors to various bedrooms. Nothing. He reached the end of the hallway. The pink door was locked. He heard soft music and laughter on the other side. Lance knocked politely. Nothing. He knocked harder. "Who is it?" called out a sing-song voice.

"C'mon, Carrie," he pleaded. "You can't do this to me."

His phone vibrated. The message read: "45 minutes. Need to rearrange the sock drawer."

He heard more laughter. Lance pounded on the door. He tried the knob. It was locked. His patience grew thin. The alpha thug had acted like a gentleman all evening. Apparently, it did not do him much good.

"OK," he thought. "I guess they asked for it."

Lance flexed his arms. He took the doorknob in his iron grip. Using all the strength in his right arm, the teenage bodybuilder ripped the door off its hinges. He marched inside. A stunned silence met his entrance. The girls hadn't expected him to break in like that. However, neither seemed unhappy to see him.

"Wow," giggled Casey to her lover. "Your boyfriend is pretty strong."

Lance surveyed Casey's spacious bedroom. The Goth favored purple and black décor. Black lights lit up the room like a dance club. A four-poster bed occupied the center of the room. Lance only could make out their lithe silhouettes behind the curtains of the massive canopied affair. Carrie's head finally peeked out with a smile. She parted open the drapes to reveal a luxurious interior tricked out in high feminine style: shammed pillows, layers of floral quilts, and satin sheets in the darkest shade of violet. And then there were his lovers-to-be. The vixens wore matching lace brassieres of a design that revealed more than concealed their voluptuous flesh.

Lance stood at the foot of the bed. The girls met his leering gaze with flirtatious smiles. Without a word, Lance tossed his jacket to the floor. He yanked off his bow tie and undid his the top button. His dress shirt was soaked in sweat. The garment had not been designed for his physique and he had trouble undoing the tiny buttons. Finally, he simply grabbed the collar and tore the garment asunder. Gold buttons plinked upon the hardwood floor. The teen stud shucked off his ruined tuxedo shirt. His V-shaped torso puffed out with each labored breath. His pecs twitched with excitement. His nipples grew hard in the cool air. Lance wasn't a Greek god. He was the badass demon that could kick the living shit out of a Greek god.

Lance tried to take a step forward and suddenly felt something rip between his legs. He sensed his slacks might give out at any moment. Thankfully, the material proved durable enough to withstand the prom. The inseam slowed the progress of his erection for a moment before it sprang upward, smacked his abs, and angled downward until the pillar of glory jutted forward at about a 15-degree angle from the floor. The organ pulsed and quivered with a feverish intensity. Lance never recalled getting so hard in his entire life.

"That was awesome," cracked Casey. "So Incredible Hulk-y."

"More like the Incredible Hunk!" snickered Carrie. "Look at that monster."

Lance didn't laugh along with the girls. The tuxedo was a rental. Jane would be pissed.

"Hello, handsome," Carrie said finally. "Would you like to join us?"

The teen stud needed a minute to process the situation. Lance knew he had not led an ordinary sex life up to now. The young blade got laid with a staggering number and variety of women. Yet all of his exploits still fell within the bounds of plausibility. He just got lucky... a lot. But tonight felt special.

The bodybuilding Adonis advanced to the foot of the bed and crawled into the canopied interior of the four-poster bed. The girls rolled away in opposite directions, letting him occupy the center of the mattress. They snuggled up to either side of him. Lance felt like the king of the world. Guided by instinct and intuition, the three of them embraced and exchanged passionate kisses. He let them take the lead, simply basking in the heated moment.

Lance inhaled a rich medley of fragrances: incense, pot, perfume, and pussy. Their mouths tasted of spearmint. Glossy lipstick smeared his face. His hands crept between their thighs. Their panties felt warm and moist. His finger dipped below the waistband of Carrie's thong and gently tugged it downward. She raised her thighs off the mattress and let him roll them off her legs. Meanwhile, Casey unhooked her girlfriend's bra. Lance and Carrie then disrobed Casey. She worked on her panties while Lance smoothly undid the snap that held up her bra.

The teenage Casanova admired his partners. The women made an excellent pairing. Casey possessed the elegant stature of a supermodel. Even naked in bed, the senior had not lost her natural poise. Carrie felt earthier. She rocked a buxom body that any red-blooded male simply wanted to bang all night.

The girls began to make out with each other. Lance did not join the fray of tongues. He preferred to watch the live sex show for now. Their display of mutual desire unfolded slowly and steadily. Its eroticism made his dick throb but he dared not touch himself. A feather could have set off his hair-trigger weaponry.

Lance took deep and hard breaths, tempering his erection to the consistency of cold steel. The moment almost felt like the opening of a football championship. A challenge lay before him. He would need to prove his physical prowess with two demanding jezebels. Then the absurdity of that notion struck him. There were no opponents on this field. They were a team united by the common goal of pleasure. Come what may, he had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

"May I cut in?" murmured Lance to his lovers.

Carrie and Casey broke their kiss. His face hovered so close he felt their hot breath on his cheeks. The three of them converged in a tangle of tongues. Their hands roamed his body. Casey's touch seemed tentative. Her fingertips glided across his arms and chest, tracing the sculpted contours of his ripped torso. Her explorations did not surprise him. A lot of girls liked to feel up his muscles. Most women never encountered a supersized physique like his. On the other hand, Carrie's touch was more intimate. She jacked his erection with a practiced familiarity.

"So, here's the plan," she whispered into his ear. "You're going to fuck me and Casey is going to watch. If she likes what she sees, you will do her next. Maybe."

Having laid down the gauntlet, Carrie rolled on to her back. She spread her legs wide open in invitation. Casey moved away from her. The girls clearly agreed upon this game plan in advance. Lance was happy to oblige them. He crawled toward Carrie and dipped his head between her thighs. He worked from the outer edges, nibbling on her inner-thighs and the goose-bumped flesh that surrounded her brimming slit. His flickering tongue teased her perineum, the sensitive area between her anus and vagina. Then, just for kicks, he licked her asshole.

Lance had no problem with getting down and dirty under the hood. He ventured places the typical high school jock refused to go. Many of his teammates wouldn't touch their girlfriends this way. So the teen stud had to do it for them. While most guys attributed Lance's enviable love life to his ten-and-a-half inch cock, his success lay just as much in his unflagging dedication to oral pleasure. He loved to make a girl come with his mouth.