Butted
by Eric, EricRRobert@hotmail.com
Two friends fall prey to a girl's butt


"Why are we going twenty minutes out of our way, again?" Wes asks.

Wes knows the answer. Wes just wants to bitch some more.

"Mellie left her shoes with my sister last night," I explain for at least the
third time. "So we're swinging them by. It's called being nice, Wes."

"There's being nice and then there's being a fucking doormat," Wes sulks back
at me. "And who the fuck leaves their shoes at a party? How the fuck do you
leave and not notice, 'oh shit, I'm fucking barefoot!'"

Wes keeps bitching in my right ear, but I tune him out and drive. Wes is
especially sulky because he asked Mellie out two weeks ago and she turned him
down brutally. Wes doesn't know I know this.

Wes must have figured he had a clear shot. He's recently 21, in college, tall,
athletic, not exactly handsome but rugged, like a guy you want to have your
back in a fight. Whereas Mellie's still in high school. She's what I'd
describe as 18 going on 12. Little redhead, crazy tight body, freckles, and
just bratty as all shit.

Wes had tried to subtly compliment her. She laughed out loud. Said she
wouldn't go out with his dorky ass if her life depended on it. Told him to
leave the party before she told everyone what a perv he was being. Laughed
again as he slunk off. I don't know if she badmouthed him to everybody, but my
sister got an earful.

So yeah, Wes is pissed. And now he's bringing her her shoes. I guess I can't
blame him for sulking.

We pull up to her house. Her car is in the driveway. We knock. No answer. We
knock again.

"Jesus Christ, her car is here, she's obviously here," fumes Wes. He checks
the door. It's unlocked. He lets himself in. I'm not super comfortable with
this, but I follow him in hesitantly.

Mellie is in the den, not 20 feet from the front door. She must have heard us.
She's stomach-down on the carpet, playing on the Xbox. Her knees are bent, her
freckly bare feet pointing at the ceiling. Her face is about three feet from
the TV, which is sitting on the floor. She's wearing tight pink sweat pants,
and her butt draws my eyes like a magnet. Two tight, impossibly firm globes,
tapering down for miles to a tiny waist. The contrast between that waist and
those twin orbs is ridiculous. My cock jumps in my pants.

She doesn't even look at us. "What is it?" she asks, her eyes glued to the
screen. She lines up some kid's avatar in her crosshairs and his head
explodes. She's good.

"We brought you back your shoes," I say.

"Cool, leave 'em wherever," she says dismissively. Another player goes down in
her crosshairs. I swear I see her butt clench a little beneath those
threadbare sweats as she pulls the trigger.

"A please would be nice," snarls Wes. "This wasn't exactly on our way, and -"

"Shut up, you dork," interrupts Mellie. "You're just pissed that I won't go
out with you cause I'm better than you."

"Like hell!" Wes cries back.

Mellie giggles, not taking her eyes from the screen as two more players'
avatars die in her crosshairs in rapid succession. She won't even give Wes the
courtesy of eye contact, leaving him talking right at her bulbous ass. "I'm
smarter than you, I'm richer than you, I have a better body than you, I -"

"That doesn't even make sense!" Wes insists. "I'm a guy! Our bodies are apples
and oranges. Like, I'm stronger than you, and -"

"No you're not." Mellie says, sounding bored. "I can show you if you want to
wrestle." She pulls the trigger and another player dies. I think she's just
killed the entire opposing team.

"Are you fucking -- bring it on, bitch!"

"Okay," she says, flicking off the Xbox. "Wait here while I change." She gets
up and walks out of the room. She still hasn't looked at either of us. My cock
is pressing firmly against my jeans. Those sweatpants will be in my dreams for
months.

"Don't think I'm not going to spank her just because she's a chick," Wes
snarls. "This is what the feminists wanted, right? Equality?" The word 'spank'
makes my cock twitch again. Wes must have been looking at the same thing I
was.

I spend the next ten minutes halfheartedly telling Wes not to get himself
arrested. Honestly, I want to see him whip those sweats down and paddle that
perfect butt. I can't deny she's a bitch. I just hope he doesn't hurt his hand
against those two granite globes.

Mellie walks back into the room in a pink leotard.

It's absurd. It's two sizes too small. It's stretched so tight across her B
cup tits that the outline of her stiff nipples ared fully visible. She may as
well be topless. I can see a thin landing strip of red pubic hair right
through the fabric. My jeans are tented at full attention.

I force my eyes upwards and for the first time today I see her face, that
upturned little nose, those cute freckles. She has her straight, shoulder
length auburn hair done up in pigtails, tied in little pink bows. It's a
ridiculous outfit, like the kind of thing an eight year old would wear to her
first ballet recital.

Wes is advancing on her with murder in his eyes. The outfit seems like a
special little humiliation just for him, a reminder of what he can't have. Now
he's going to take it. He reaches for Mellie's neck.

Her arms thread in between his. She grabs his wrists. She moves one hand to
his armpit. She twists. He goes flying over her shoulder. The back of his head
slams into the carpet. As she bends over, those globes threaten to rip the
leotard in half.

I can't help but laugh. He must have 50 pounds on her. Wes's face is red. He
clambers to his feet. Mellie is standing there looking bored.

He lunges for her waist. She grabs his wrist, her knees bend slightly, she
turns. He goes flying over her hip, flipping from horizontal to upside-down,
the top of his head crushing into the floor. Mellie still looks bored.

Wes gets up with obvious tears in his eyes. He's humiliated. He throws a punch
intended to take her head off. Mellie ducks slightly, her arm extends like a
cobra striking, her fingers slam into his armpit as his fist passes an inch
over his head. His arm drops from its extended position. It hangs there,
useless.

Mellie's fists lash out twice more, lightning fast, one to the solar plexus,
the other to the throat. Wes can't breathe. He stands there stunned, his eyes
wide, his arm swaying limp, his cock anything but. Mellie steps in close.
Chest to chest. Her nipples press into him. She gives him a faint smile, like
she can't be bothered to smile for real. And she plants her freckled foot in
his stomach, leans back, rolls, and flips him halfway across the den.

Wes lands on his back. Mellie is sitting on him before he can get his bearing,
her globes indenting his chest. "Now you're going to get butted," she sighs,
in an "I-told-you-so" kind of tone.

"Dude, get her off you," I say, but it's clear Wes is done. The fight is maybe
45 seconds old and he's toast. And then Mellie starts bouncing her butt on his
chest, very slightly, very subtly, grinding her hips into him.

"Unnh.. ahh.. Mel.. ahh.. Mel... plea... please.. ahhh..." Wes is pleading,
unable to get a solid breath, his face beet red, tears streaming down his
face.

"Nuh-uh," says Mellie. "No way, Mister. You acted like a big dork and now
you're getting butted."

What the fuck is "butted," I think to myself. Is that her ridiculous word for
"bounced on"? Is this a thing for her? Is Wes not her first?

Mellie is bouncing a little harder now. Wes's cries and sobs and attempts at
begging are blending into an incoherent mess. Her butt is reducing him to
nothing. This was funny for a minute, but I'm getting concerned.

"Mellie -" I say.

"Shut up," she retorts, not even looking at me, gazing with some minor
amusement at Wes's gasping mouth, his tearful, pleading eyes.

And then I hear a crack. Something inside Wes has lost the fight to Mellie's
posterior. A rib? She keeps bouncing, grinding.

"Mellie!" I scream.

A louder crack. His sternum?? Wes lets out a ragged cough between his sobs. A
bloody mist shoots from his mouth. His lips are stained red. She keeps
bouncing, grinding those globes on him. Oh my God, she intends to kill him.

I'm charging at her. My arms hook under her armpits. I yank her up. She's
light - 120 pounds? Her shampoo smells like strawberries. She's on her feet.
She's grabbing my arm. No problem, I'm much stronger than her.

I'm upside down.

My back crashes into the carpet. The room doesn't stop spinning. I try to sit
up. Oh my God, her butt is on my chest. I choke.

"Oh my God Mellie please," I sob. "I have to get him to the hospital."

She considers this, her rock-hard glutes digging into my chest, bending my
ribs.

"Okay," she concedes, "If you kiss my butt until I say you're done."

What the fuck?? But yes, yes, a thousand times yes, of course. I do not want
to end up Wes's twin "butted" corpse. I nod furiously.

She stands up. She peels her leotard down to her knees. Her little tits are
the firmest I've ever seen. Her nipples jut out angrily. She turns around,
kneels down, gets on her stomach, her leotard lazily wrapped around her knees,
and... Jesus Christ, she's flipping on the Xbox. Her naked ass is pointing up
at my face. It's everything I thought it would be and more.

I crawl to her. I put my lips on one of those chiseled moons as the title
screen comes on. So soft, so unyielding, my cock springs to life all over
again.

"Not on my butt cheek, you dork," Mellie says to the TV screen. "Around my
butthole."

"You want me to kiss your asshole??" I ask, horrified. Wes moans and sputters
weakly behind us. His breathing is ragged, wet.

"Uh, No, dork, -around- my butthole," she says lazily. "In a circle, around
the hole."

This is no time to argue. I spread her cheeks.I kiss right next to her little
cinammon ring. I kiss centimeters above that kiss. I work my face in a circle.
She's waxed and smooth, but so sweaty.

Her ass smells terrible and wonderful. It's a musky, damp, cloying smell. My
face is buried in it. I'm engulfed in the smell. Mellie is fiddling with the
controller.

I was hard before, but now I'm uncomfortably hard. Is the smell doing this to
me?? My cock twitches involuntarily as I rim this horrible, lazy brat.

"I know what's happening to you back there," Mellie observes, sounding bored.
"You boys are all disgusting."

I -feel- disgusting. I'm eating a teenager's ass. The smell.. it's turning my
stomach, it's tightening my chest, my cock is going crazy. I kiss, kiss, kiss.
God, the smell. Precum is building on the tip of my cock.

And then a barely audible psssst. Half a second later, my nostrils fill with
rancid cabbage, beer, rotten eggs.

I gag. I scream. I sob. I nearly puke. And I cum.

My face buried in this teenager's sweaty ass, my lips millimeters from her
asshole, I shoot a massive load as she farts right in my face, soaking through
my underwear, soaking through the front of my jeans, sobbing in anguish the
whole time.

"Dork," chuckles Mellie. I weep into her ass, weakly, feebly continuing to
kiss.

A couple seconds later, she says "Okay, I'm bored, take your friend and
leave."

I get up, her ass smell still pervading my nostrils, a giant wet spot on my
pants, and limp over to Wes. His lips are grey. He's barely breathing. The
hospital is 15 minutes away.

As I drag him out of the den towards the front door, Mellie lazily remarks,
"Guess I butted you both."