Noted asshound Dennis Dennell found himself in something of a quandary. At 6’3”, weighing in at 230 pounds and rocking a twelve-inch cock, Dennis was bisexual. He fucked men left and right, day and night. During the school year Dennis hooked up with Hubert and Chico almost daily. He fucked them; they fucked him.

Dennis fucked women, too, mostly Sherry Davis. He’d impregnated Sherry several times. Nothing had come of it. In almost every instance Dennis preferred rectum over vagina. Women he fucked were amazed at his otherworldly stamina. Dennis could plug a vagina for hours without withering.

With an ass? Not so much.

He was big and muscular and something of a bully. Dennis imposed his will on men and women alike. He’d fucked any number of the girls at Shermer High, too, including Delphia, Martha, Maggie and Jonna. Those encounters didn’t usually evolve into relationships. Dennis’ cock was too big. If you’re a woman, think about that equation: Twelve-inch cock, hours in the hole.

Sex becomes an ordeal.

Worse, Dennis wouldn’t eat pussy. He didn’t mind sucking dick. Eating pussy seemed nasty to him. Dennis derided men who munched minge, calling them “twat gobblers” and likening them to lesbians.

Who had the courage to respond in kind?

Anyone that called Dennis names was bound to take an asswhipping. He’d earned his “bully” reputation honestly.

Dennis’ quandary involved little 4’11” Kelly Ramone. He’d agreed to be a judge at Sharon Manor’s Graduation Party alongside Kelly, whom he barely knew. The party was a stamina orgy. A cash prize went to the couple that fornicated the longest—non-stop. After the prize was awarded, couples drew lots for the rights to different partners. Dennis ended up with Kelly by virtue of the draw. She was less than one-third his size, yet she’d mounted him readily. Dennis didn’t expect to get more than three inches deep, if that. Her pussy was small; barely had any hair. Kelly was flat-chested.

Six inches in, jagged shards of electricity flooded Dennis’ cock. Kelly had a soft flooring of ridges in her cunt that reminded him of ass, only softer. Nine inches in Dennis thought his dick would spring from her mouth. Twelve inches in was, to Dennis, beyond belief. He came within a minute in a vibrant haze of flutter. Kelly smirked at him.

“Thank you,” she’d said, somewhat facetiously.

Onlookers laughed. Dennis demanded a do-over. Kelly obliged him. This time his cock went in easier, she being better lubricated.

The result, however, was the same. Dennis came within a minute. Kelly held his dick tightly inside like a tourniquet until he virtually fainted. She extricated herself from atop him, then paraded about the room showing off her distended labia minora, angrily pink and dripping with spooge.

“She got him!! She got him!!” the girls all cried, themselves struggling to manage cocks much smaller than Dennis’.

None of the women familiar with Dennis had ever seen him hobbled this cleanly or this comprehensively. He lay on the floor with his eyes drooping and his tongue hanging from his lips. Kelly strode about in triumph.

She’d really burnished her credentials that day.

The next day Kelly took a phone call. It was from Dennis.

“So… whatcha doin’?” he opened.

“Sleeping,” she replied with a yawn.

“Nice!” Dennis said, as if she’d just shed light on the true nature of dark matter.

Kelly marked this idiot (yet common) reply down as a demerit.

“So… what are you wearing?” he continued.

Kelly marked this idiot question down as Strike Two.

“Nothing,” she lied.

“Nice!” Dennis replied.

Kelly drew a deep breath, annoyed.

“Dennis, I’m really tired. Can you call me back later?”

“OK, sure,” he agreed.

This was the beginning of an entire month of phone conversations in which Dennis called Kelly every day and said essentially the same thing:

“How are you?”

“What are you doing?”

“What are you wearing?”

“Nice!”

“Gosh, you’re good looking!”

And, “Really? I’m like that, too!”

Women of all stripes recognize this moronic dreck. It serves as prelude to what men really want to ask, which is always, “Can I have some pussy?”

Women can always hear this unspoken question in a man’s voice. All this inane conversation seeks is to establish kinship with a woman so that the inevitable pussy request isn’t seen as crass.

Kelly knew Dennis’ game the moment his name showed up in her phone. He’d never called her before. She let him dawdle along for a month before he dredged up the courage to state his real business.

“Ummmm… Kelly? You ‘member that time we were at Sharon’s party and…and…”

“And what, Dennis?”

She knew what was coming.

“… and… ummm… we… umm… you know, did it?”

Kelly breathed deeply.

“Yes, Dennis. I remember.”

“Nice!” he said.

Kelly face palmed.

“What can I do for you, Dennis? Do you want some more pussy?”

Dennis was astonished.

“Y-yes!! I mean, YES! I DO!”

“Well why didn’t you ask me for it a month ago? The summer is halfway over,” she chastened.

Dennis kicked himself. With any other woman, he’d have been Johnny-on-the-spot, raring for a go at her bum. With Kelly, his heterosexual instincts rose to the fore. Dennis wanted to fuck Kelly six ways from Sunday. Pussy. Not ass.

Of course, he couldn’t say it in those terms. Dennis thought being “clumsy” and “nice” might do that trick. Some girls think this ham-handedness is cute.

“Nice,” didn’t do it for Kelly. She was a veteran of both the Basketball Orgy and The Train. She’d more than fucked her share. Dennis had the biggest dick she’d ever encountered. She’d handled him easily. Now she had the respect of all the girls in the school and the fear of all the guys. Kelly had her pick of penis.

“Dennis, I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” she said.

“That’s OK! That’s OK!!” he hurriedly replied. “I’m OK with that.”

“But you just wanna fuck?” she reiterated.

“I… I just… you know… thought we did… good... that night… you know.”

“You’re the one that came! I didn’t cum,” Kelly exclaimed.

“I know! I…umm….want to change that!”

“How, Dennis?”

“I… I… just want one more chance… to…”

“To fuck me?”

“Yeh.”

Kelly exhaled.

“OK. When?”

“I can come over tonight if you want!” he said, suddenly cured of stammer.

“Tonight’s not good for me,” Kelly said.

This deflated his tires some.

“Well? When?”

“Next weekend,” she said. “There’s people ahead of you in line.”