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Billion with a B

A lonely futanari dreams of knocking up her neighbor.

I walked a little slower as I hit the front door to my apartment building, pretending to wipe my tall brown boots on the flimsy floral doormat. Dana Chung’s thick thighs kneaded each other as she rushed to make the door I now held open. The two paisley-patterned recyclable bags she carried swung like a wrecking-ball from side-to-side. She craned her happy almond eyes up, smiling.

“Thanks, Faith,” She said in her labored, tiny girl voice. For a moment, her petite hand grazed my own as I left her to hold the door. It was amazing how warm her hands stayed on such a chilly autumn day.

“Getting colder, isn’t it?” I asked as we scurried up the flights of stairs. The weather. Like I cared. It was the soulless banter at your disposal when you felt compelled to say something, but were too lazy or chicken-shit to be authentic.

“Yeah, really,” She fired back. My peripheral vision drank each fluid motion as she hopped up the stairs alongside me. Every bouncing step was intoxicating. Dana didn’t have much to say outside replying to my crap.

We each turned the corner after the stairs. In a few more steps down the damp hallway, I stood in front of my door.

“See ya.” I waved over my shoulder and through my frizzy locks and curls of mahogany, I watched Dana’s firm glutes hustle her petite frame down to the hall’s end.

I fiddled with my key, mashing it in its hole with some extra force, not unlike sexual frustration. Spending any time around Dana did that to a girl. I unbuckled my jeans as soon as my lock clicked over. Within the next moment, I rolled my pants over my gorgeous ebony curves.

Yes! This was the true joy of living alone. Even though my studio apartment was tight enough to double as a sardine can, sweet release whenever I wanted was priceless. I plopped down on my baggy secondhand blue couch to attend the aching bulge confined under my black boy shorts.

As I slid my thumbs underneath the tense waistband and pulled down, my own pungent musk hit my nostrils. I groaned. It may disgust to admit, I love smelling my sweat. Especially when it’s mixed with—

“ACK!” Was the only sound I could make before it splashed against my mouth. I knew my cock was hard after seeing Dana and could imagine there’d be leakage from throughout the day, but my rigid ten inches sprung into action and whipped a nice fat, heavy rope of milky liquid into my face and shirt. In a panic, I spit the cold saltiness onto my flabby brown belly. “Goddamn.” I gasped, spitting again.

Thankfully, there was a stack on napkins on the wobbly end table next to me. I did my best to clean most of my juices before it soiled the couch. Watching the white napkins stain yellow made my cock pulse with more excitement. That’s what cum does, isn’t it? It gets into things. It seeps. It invades. It changes things forever.

Futanari cum more so. When the average virile man commits his sweet release, he sends five hundred million swimmers to carry on his bloodline. But I’m far from average. Whenever a futanari does the same, she sends approximately one billion sperm cells to hunt for an egg.

My fingers trailed down my veiny shaft and massaged my tender sack. No release all day meant that these “girls” would be getting painful if I didn’t make time. My dear neighbor Dana was my primary crush and spank bank subject. It was easy to picture a perfect date with her. I’d be at her door around 7 pm in my best black slacks, blouse and striking heels. She’d come out in this mid-length black velvet dress with matching clutch. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve complimented that outfit of hers as we passed in the hallway.

“Thanks, Faith,” She’d reply with a smile. Dana is almost a foot shorter than me. Watching her crane her neck up in awe of my five-foot-eleven-inch stature makes me quiver. Then, off to dinner at an Italian restaurant. At a dark secluded table in the romantic room’s corner, red wine would dance from the bottle to our glasses like ribbons of crimson. We would chat over steaming pasta about our lives. She would lament over the lackluster dates she’s endured: Limp personalities with limp dicks to boot. I would listen. She confesses that she’s never been on a date with a woman, but was pleasantly surprised.

She’s in for one more surprise.

oOo

“Thanks for everything,” She thanked me for the hundredth time that night as she stood by my door. Dana swallowed what reluctance she had left and pushed up on her toes to kiss me. I let her tongue explore my warmth for as long as she pleased. She pulled back, her face flushed with wine and lust as she glided past me to enter my apartment.

I grabbed her waist and pulled her in close, laying wet kisses on her neck. Dana kicked off her heels as she gasped for air, her height plummeting another six inches. Her greedy, undersized hands went to grab my cock through my pants.

“Gosh,” She gawked. Her beautiful almond eyes pulsed as she squeezed me. “I’ve needed this,” She nearly growled.

I watched with bated breath as Dana unbuckled me. Her mouth went straight to my throbbing cock head, leaving a thick, wet drooling trial on my the shaft. She repeated this stroke a few times until worked up a thin lathery layer of her spit and my pre-cum.

Possessed, I pulled my baby back to the couch and positioned her on my lap. When her dress whipped forward, and her cunt drooled with anticipation on my thigh.

“Damn, Dana. Now I’ve gotta fuck you.”

I eased her down. Just like that—her body swallowed me. My entire length pulsed inside her warmth as I caressed her waist. I worked her tightness up and down my shaft. Each time Dana moaned or cried out, it caused her pussy to clamp around me harder. I swayed forward, bouncing her on my lap as I dug my nails into her tender thighs.

Yes! God! Yes!” Dana swooned as she ground on me. After a minute of torrid futa dick-riding, I felt her cream run down my throbbing member. Then her poor, stretched pussy clutched me again. I’ve never known a woman to come so fast.

“Am I your first futa, Dana?” I groaned in her ear as her grinding slowed.

“Mmhmm,” Was Dana’s only reply, biting her lip to keep from screaming.

That explains it, I thought. Futa dick has a knack for finding a girl’s g-spot. Dana pulled herself from my cock and staggered to her feet. She practically ripped her dress off before returning to the couch. Finally! Each freckle on her ass, each love handle, each wrinkle under her little flabby belly. She bore all her bodily secrets as she leaned herself over the couch’s arm to present her hairy asshole to me. Droplets of pre-cum were sprinkled over her moist obsidian garden.

My flesh sank back in with ease. Dana grunted as she took all of me once again, pushing back against each thrust. I’ve gotta admit. I’ve bedded a lot of women, but not one actually fucked me back! My girl was possessed. As my soggy yet swollen futa balls slapped against her pussy, I could hear Dana moaning as she gagged on her own drool. Poor girl hadn’t been got a proper dicking in a while.

Mm!” I moaned. My balls tingled as my cock spasmed deep inside her warmth. “Baby, I’m gonna blow.” I cried in my huskiest voice. “S—should I pull out.?”

Mm... No!” Dana whined. Her voice was pained and desperate. “I want your cream!” She slammed back into me harder.

I meant to ask Dana about her birth control situation before the throes of passion. Too late now, I suppose. Neither of us were thinking straight, and my beautiful date was already teeming with pre-cum by now. There was a moment of silence before it happened. Then I cried out as my nuts exploded.

My cock spasmed so hard, so fast, that I wouldn’t have been surprised if two billion swimmers flooded into her. Gobs and gobs of my cream made a quick mess of her insides. One billion sperm, each carrying the traits from one horny black futa hunting one unassuming Asian egg. Once I was sure her womb was nicely coated, I allowed by wilting cock to slurp outta her. When a healthy pouring of cum spilled to the couch immediately, I knew her tiny womb was filled to its max.

The months passed faster than had any right. I tried with much desperation to savor each glimpse of her growing body. Dana’s breasts went from two pert honey-almond a-cups to flowing, massive d’s capped with dark chocolate nipples. Every time she stepped from the shower my eyes feast upon those funbags, groaning and sagging under their load of new milk.

I always called her to the bed where she relaxes her heaviness over the thick comforter. I rubbed cocoa butter on her thighs and bulging stomach, playing special detail to each discolored stretch mark at the belly’s sides. Her imperfectly perfect body, swollen and stretched, changed forever all because of our first date.

oOo

I snapped back to reality when a cold trickle splashed my wrist. My face grimaced. There’s nothing I hate more than cold cum. My cock had wilted and pitiful drips of lukewarm gravy showed my stroke session was over. Pretending to knock up someone up was always a surefire way to drain my balls. If the splatterings on the carpet, couch, and my own face and (ugh) hair were any sign, I’d just concocted the perfect fantasy.

Then a subtle knock on the door had me scrambling for my pants. By the third round of knocks, I had thrown some towels over most of the cum stains and the last I wrapped around my hair. I peered through the peephole and the sight stole my breath.

“Hey, Dana.” My voice was tinged with nervousness as I craned my head around the door. “What’s up?”

“Oops!” She chirped with that peppy front that drove me wild. “Sorry, Faith. Didn’t mean to interrupt your shower. This is so embarrassing because I just left the grocery store. I was about to indulge in my ritual of decaf coffee after work and I’m out of creamer? Can I borrow some?”

“Cream? Me?” I bit my lip. “Sorry, honey. Fresh out. Maybe next time.”

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