I meet Joanne occasionally in a coffee shop near my place. We tend to talk about the men in our lives, or the lack of men in our lives.

Today she was bursting to tell me something.

“I’ve got some news for you,” she said. “I’m involved with a guy now who gives the best sex I’ve ever had!”

“That’s terrific,” I said, trying to hide my envy. Joanne knows me well enough to realize how I feel, the bitch.

“This guy, Frank, had the biggest cock I have ever seen. It fills my pussy and ass to the point that I hurt like Hell. But it’s worth it.”

“Joanne, tell me how you met this guy,” I said. “Are you making this up?”

She seemed hurt and denied that it was bullshit. Joanne has many flaws, but lying is not one of them. I noticed that the old farts in the neighboring booth seemed to be listening. I put my fingers across my lips, and nodded in the direction of their booth. Joanne brought her voice down and said, “I met this guy on the job, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“He doesn’t work with me. Frank is on a construction crew doing work around the entrance to my building. I was coming back from lunch one day and heard something, the usual line: ‘All that meat and no potatoes.’ You know me, I don’t usually respond to that sort of thing.”

She responds to any man who notices her, I thought, but I just let her continue.

“I turned around and there was big guy with broad shoulders and big hands, a hunk. I suppose he noticed my outfit, the blue one which shows my tits and has a real short skirt. I said to him, ‘the meat tastes real good, and so do the potatoes.’ He just stood there with his mouth hanging open and watched me go into the building.”

“What happened next?”

“When I got off work, the construction crew had gone for the day, but he was waiting for me. He invited me to have a brew with him in a bar nearby.”

“You went to a bar with a stranger, just like that?”

“It was still light out,” she said. “And I can take care of myself.”

She looked at me and lit up one of her damn cigarettes. Joanne had me hooked, and she knew it.

“Come on,” I said. “How did you wind up having sex with Frank?”

“He told me what he was going to do to me: fuck me until I couldn’t take any more – and then turn me over and fuck me in the ass some more.”

“You took him home, after that sort of trash talk?”

“Well, he didn’t seem like a weirdo or a dangerous guy. Besides, he had one thing that really turned me on.”

“What?”

“Honestly, Beth, he had the biggest bulge in his pants that I’ve ever seen.”

“You went for size?”

“There’s nothing better than size, as far as I’m concerned. I haven’t had a guy with a big cock in a long time. I did take him home and it’s been great ever since. There is one problem, though.”

“Shit,” I said, “what’s the problem?”

“He isn’t interested in cuddling or talking after sex. Last weekend he rolled over after fucking me, got a beer from the ‘fridge, and then sat in front of the TV and watched the Packers-Giants game.”

“That’s terrible.”

“The worst part was that he wiped his dick off on my curtains after he rolled off me.”

I didn’t know how to answer that. Cleaning curtains isn’t such a big deal if the sex is good. I had a strange image: curtains displaying souvenirs of hot sex, like trophies, sort of.

“By the way,” she said. “I have a problem coming up. I have to visit my mom in Cleveland for almost a month. She’s getting on in years.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Frank is a great lover and claims he needs sex almost every day,” she said. “I think he’ll find someone else while I’m away.”

I stared at her for a while, that big cock of Frank’s in my mind.

“Joanne, I may have a solution for you,” I said. “Introduce me to Frank, or just give me his phone number. I’ll take care of him in your absence. And you know that I’d back out of the way when you get back.”

She knew I was bullshitting her, of course, but she didn’t have a better offer from anyone else. Joanne thought for while, puffing away at another of her cigarettes.

Then she came up with her own offer, one that floored me.

“I have room in my place for you, a second bedroom and an extra bathroom. You could move in and help me take care of Frank’s needs. But I insist on first choice, when it comes down to who’s going to get fucked and sucked. You’d help out with the rent—say about thirty percent. What do you think of that?”

After thinking it over, I responded.

“Sounds good to me. About the curtains…”

“What about them?”

“We could get more curtains and change them when necessary. Frank might enjoy wiping his dick on high—fashion curtains. You never know. He may be more sensitive than you realize.”

© 2002 Lesly Sloan. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Read more erotica by Lesly Sloan at: Erotica