The Real Loser

[©2010 BY CLINTON09; ALL CHARACTERS OVER THE AGE OF 18; NO EVENTS DESCRIBED ARE TRUE; THIS STORY HAS A ‘HARDER EDGE’ THAN MOST; BE WARNED: HERE BE DRAGONS; FOR AGES 21 OR ABOVE]

[High school enemies meet at times, with one heckling the other, a bookworm, as a ‘loser’ who had to drive a loser’s ‘mommy-mobile’ mini-van. The ‘loser’ studies overtime, eventually gets great job, the girl of both of their dreams, and a huge family. Bully who tormented them in high school eventually concedes defeat in the ultimate way.]

*

Paul and Butch went to the same high school, but had two different experiences. Paul was one of those ‘bookworms’ who actually applied themselves, studied, and got grades above ‘C’. Butch had a blast in high school, hanging out with the hip music and home computer game crowd. He had it all over Paul when it came to flying fighter aircraft, chutes and ladders, gorilla’s on trellises, and some guy named Mario. Although he seemed to be happy, he did have that sense that Paul and he were headed down two separate roads. He had that eerie feeling that slackers get that someone might end up better off than him. As a result, Butch got increasingly bold in his practical jokes; when Paul did not respond like he wanted, he got even nastier. Paul put up quietly with three deflated tires (done in the dark while he was in the lab after hours) and a few scuffs on his car. Paul even had his bike stolen, but couldn’t prove who did it. Somehow, he knew that at the end of the day, it would be him that succeeded and not his relentless tormentor.

Five years later:

Butch was at his 2nd job, as clerk at the nearby convenience store, when he spotted Paul in the slightly worn eight year old mini-van that he inherited, along with the home, from his last living parent, his mom.

Butch: “Wow, I haven’t seen you in a long while, dude. What a loser…you drive a mini-van? God, you’re a bigger loser than when you were in high school, working at night for that lab experiment on the day that I set a record on Donkey Kong to the cheers of half the high school. Sorry you have to drive that mommy-mobile…wimp.”

Paul gave him a wan smile without commenting and went out to his ‘loser mobile.’ True, he wasn’t real proud of the van. It wasn’t because it was a mini-van but because he had a BMW he normally drove. It was in the shop and he had to drive his wife’s wheels.

After leaving high school, the ‘loser’ had jobs with giant companies like GE and Siemens where dedicated studious types were appreciated. This ‘mini-van loser’ had patented one of the things he had developed in high school, which earned him almost $250,000. That same ‘loser’ married Wendy, a girl that was dated by both Paul and Butch in high school. She had to choose: a dude who lived in his mom’s basement playing computer games, when he wasn’t working at 7-11. Her other choice, a ‘loser’ driving a mini-van, his real mom’s mommy-mobile, who also happened to have real money in the bank and a real job. Tough decision: she chose ‘the loser’.

Now it was five years since high school graduation, and one year since Paul graduated magna cum laude from UC-Berkeley with a BS in chemistry. That ‘loser’ was still driving the mommy-mobile, if only when his BMW 535 was in the shop (which was all too often.)

To emphasize the extent to which the mini-van driving high school bookworm was a ‘loser’, we have to see one day in detail. We will see how our hero, Butch, the slacker, was free of responsibility and driving any ‘loser mobiles’.

June 17th, 6am:

Butch: [He sprung out of bed. He had to be in convenience store uniform and ready to work during his 7am to 5pm shift. His breakfast was fast and easy, a nice bowl of Cocoa Pebbles, in milk that was a little bit old. It was a good day, as he was out the door set to be on time for once and not get written up for being late. It was unbelievable bad luck that he should be caught behind a three car pile-up and end up being twenty minutes late for work. His fellow workers joked that he was the only clerk that was not in management after working there five years.]

Paul, the ‘loser’: [The alarm woke him and his wife Wendy up. Wendy still had her high school figure, five foot five, a lovely brunette with an hourglass figure, about 36-23-36. He could have married her for her fantastic shapely legs by themselves, ignoring the fact that she had to wear big-cupped 36D bras that barely fit.

This morning was like most others for ‘the loser’. He awoke with morning wood, and his loving wife braced herself, ready to be just a ‘receptacle’ out of love and devotion. Sure enough, that ‘loser’ Paul was hard as a rock from sleep and just had to climb on board his gorgeous raven-haired high school sweetheart to vent his pent-up lust. They kissed passionately as the ‘loser’ as always dumped a heavy load inside his wife’s tight, welcoming, receptive vagina. Just this one thing made marriage well worth any hassles, as if there were so many. As his lovely wife lay on the bed, white opaque liquid canlı bahis was dripping down both her thighs making two puddles which would link together into one large puddle. Once again her diaphragm had done its task. The bookish high school ‘loser’ was concerned that a family might overtax their resources, as substantial as they were.]

1pm:

Paul was called into the office, where he was lauded for his non-paid overtime work and amazing breakthrough on the efficiency of photo-voltaic (PV) power cells. Total PV panel efficiency was way up, and that would really impress Southern California Edison and the US Department of Energy. He was given a 20% raise.

Paul, the ‘loser’: “Wendy, I got that raise we were waiting for. I think that we can go ahead and start that family we’ve been planning, as soon as the calendar is right.”

Wendy: “Oh Paul that’s wonderful. We are in luck because yesterday, today and tomorrow are the best days. What should I do with my diaphragm?”

Paul, the ‘loser’: “Take that thing OUT! But don’t throw it away. I will bring it to work; I cannot wait to see what a mega-joule ruby laser will do to that thing.”

At the exact same time (what are the odds of that?), Butch was called to leave the store in the assistant manager’s more capable hands and come to the district office. Upon arriving, Butch was informed that he had been late much too often; today was the last straw. He had been receiving pay above the minimum, due to five year’s seniority. Now, he would be reduced to the minimum wage, a cut of 20%. It was either that or he could find a new job. Butch agreed to the insulting offer, mumbling something under his breath as he left.

Back at the ‘loser’ home:

Wendy surprised Paul, the ‘loser’ at the door, wearing a diaphanous baby-doll nightgown that showed off every inch of her tanned showgirl legs, her gorgeous smooth feet in high pink feathered slippers that matched the nightgown perfectly.

Paul, the ‘loser’ dropped his alligator briefcase and grabbed that high school goddess, laying a heavy kiss on her ruby lips. He picked her up and carried her to the candle-lit dinner for two she had set up. That ‘loser’ would have to put up with cracked crab, canard a’ l’oranje, and mousse au chocolat. Oh well, you take what life throws your way…

After that divine meal, Paul picked up his gorgeous brunette wife and carried her down the hall to their marital bed. The nightgown was one that could be removed with ease or even left on. He left it on. Removing his business clothes, he got between those legs, happily spread for him, and mounted his gorgeous loving spouse. The fact that this moment had been awaited for five long years made it all the sweeter.

That ‘loser’ had some assets, like a nine inch cock that his loving wife now positioned at the perfect angle. As he stared into the eyes of his spouse, sparkling in blue and slightly teary from the emotion of this night, he entered her. She had never been so warm, so welcoming. His stiff nine (actually ten this night) inch messenger got a firm caress by the deceptively strong muscles of Wendy’s snug as a glove, tight, receptive vagina. That ‘loser’ pushed his now ten inch babymaker deeper and deeper, the rough uncut head dragging, scraping the tender, tingling vaginal walls of his incredibly beautiful wife. Wendy had had her first orgasm when he plopped his heavy love unit in the slavering lips of her pussy, seeking out the clitoris and finding it. Her second big ‘O’ was now that his oversized cockhead was plowing deeper and deeper, pulling and tugging on the sensitive tissues of the vaginal walls as it plunged ever further. Finally, that ‘loser’ bottomed out. He rose slightly on his arms and kissed the beautiful Wendy. They stared in each other’s eyes, with both nodding at the same time, somehow communicating the final plan.

That ‘loser’ Paul put his hands around his gorgeous wife’s firm from jogging behind, holding her in a vise-like grip. He waited, sensitive as a seismograph for any eruptions. Sure enough, a ripple went thru Wendy’s perfect body, causing her to moan. At the exact same moment, Paul fell to kiss her red no.6 glossy lips just as his ten inch love tube went to work. The tiny opening in the head swelled to the size of a bottle cap as his balls, swollen to the size of small grapefruit, delivered jet after jet, spray after spray, a relentless torrent that seemed to never end.

In the library silence of their bedroom, as they both lay still, the squirt gun ‘zit zit zit’ of his incredibly powerful cockhead could be heard by both of them. It was not possible that Wendy could feel it, but she did, every warm splash, down to the last drop. Exhausted, the two melted together. They lay side by side, with his still hard cock still deep, holding all of his precious seed inside of her. His sperm had a welcome place, where it could be planted inside a wet, fertile garden. Four hours later, as they laid together, Wendy conceived their first child. The fetus would be male.

Butch: [He bahis siteleri didn’t know or care what that ‘loser’ from high school was doing. Sure, this was a rough day and all, what with the 20% paycut and warning, but it wasn’t a total loss. He had achieved levels that few if any had reached with his friend Mario on his PC. Better yet, the new Playboy had come out. Laughing to himself about how his enemy Paul, the loser, missed out on dating while he worked late at night in the lab, Butch took the new foldout into the bathroom, pinning the foldout over the ‘facility’ in his mom’s guest bathroom. He had his fun, did he ever. After 20 minutes of effort, he closed his eyes and three raindrops came out, falling into the ‘facility’. Looking proudly at the three tiny islands of foam in there, he proudly flushed his seedless outpouring down the drain. Umm, what a relief. Now THAT was fulfillment.]

Another five years later:

At the Middle Eastern Gas and Convenience store, formerly 7-11, Butch was still working there. He no longer had wheels, as his mom’s Monte Carlo had a cracked block and he couldn’t afford to fix it. He DID have a swell Schwinn bike, ten speeds (six of which worked) and pretty good brakes. Today had been a tough day, with a warning from the police about under-age beer sales, and now, with a cleanup on the sidewalk from someone who didn’t enjoy his year-old hotdog.

What were the odds? As Butch was applying the green sawdust before he swept up the food critic’s comments from the sidewalk,, the loser of all losers, Paul, drove up in his same ‘loser-mobile’, his mother’s old mommy-mobile mini-van. As a matter of fact, Butch couldn’t tell in the middle of the night, but this actually was a three year old mini-van from the same company; it did look about the same, though, being the same midnight blue.

Paul rushed into the store, hoping that at 2 am, with all decent stores closed, that this dive would have some condensed milk or formulae. They didn’t of course, though their selection of beer was non pareil. As a slightly dejected Paul went back out, he spotted his old adversary Butch.

Butch: “Well, I never expected to see you again. And look at that, [he saw the mini-van in the darkness] you still drive your ‘loser mobile’. Gee, I thought that mommy would have bought you a new car by now. Well, I work two jobs; do you have even one these days? Wow, you really were a loser; I’m glad I stole your bike. The damn thing only got me $10, though. See you next time, jerk.”

Paul didn’t answer back. He was a great proponent of never ever having schadenfreude, or shameful joy over the misfortunes of others. It was NOT meanness but merely necessity that made him put the overhead light on in the van. There, Butch, holding a waste pan and mop, saw his old high school dream girl, Wendy. She looked as fine as ever, maybe better. In the back rows of the ‘loser mobile’ were two children in the back in car seats, two younger ones in the middle in infant carriers, and two of the new born twins in Wendy’s arms.

Wendy, not knowing that Butch was watching, would have to breast feed those twins since the store was out of formulae until morning. She flicked on the overhead reading light. Using her clean finger to open the first twin’s mouth, she placed the beautiful mommy nipple in and patted his head. With a smash of his tongue and pull of his lips, the lucky baby drew in a huge gusher of warm, sweet breastmilk, giving him the nourishment he needed as nature’s first protein drink proceeded to fill his little belly. The other twin, a girl, was given the other nipple and had the exact same experience. Butch saw the girl of his dreams, her perfect breasts occupied by two suckling babes. The babies were definitely not Butch’s but, incredibly, were those of that ‘loser’.

With the babies secure and now feeding, Paul (that ‘loser’) started the powerful engine of his three year old new and improved mommy-mobile, the mini-van that only a loser would drive. It had not been his intention to hurt Butch’s feelings, even if he deserved it. He had not arranged for Butch to see the huge, wonderful family that this ‘loser’ now had, nor the unbelievably erotic sight of Butch’s high school sweetheart putting that ‘loser’s’ babies to breast. Oddly, he felt sorry for Butch and wished him well.

It had been three months since they had had the twins. Just coincidentally, Wendy was extremely fertile that very night. She also was horny and baby-crazy again.

Wendy: “Sweetheart, I’m fertile again. It’s been long enough since the twins. I think we should go right back to work. I don’t mean to be cruel, but there was a war between you and Butch. You WON that war. After successful wars, there’s always a baby boom. Let’s reach my goal of ten children…what a family that would be. Then we could drive up and show Butch what we had in TWO mini-vans. THAT would get back at him for what he did in high school, dumping beer all over me from the bleachers while his slacker friends laughed plus at least a dozen bahis şirketleri other dirty tricks. He did this to amuse his buddies, and just because I stopped dating him.”

Paul: “I don’t like the idea of doing something just to be cruel, or to hurt someone’s feelings. I like being deliberate. So, let’s just hold on that new family addition idea for a while, ok sweetheart.”

They kissed warmly and took their traditional positions in sleep, tummy to tummy, Paul’s now ten inch cock normally safely stowed along her tummy, the head of it well above both of their navels. In the darkness of their room at midnight, they got a call from their high school friend. On the static-ridden cell call, their friend told them that someone they knew just passed away, old Butch. The police were not commenting, but they mentioned he was home, alone, with a 25 caliber pistol found nearby. The high school friend wondered what might have set him off like that. They talked about other things before he rang off.

All of a sudden, shameful joy or not, Paul got incredibly horny. If Wendy had plans for a giant family, then giant family it would be. He pushed Wendy over on her back and entered her fully. She moaned in pleasure as always, his big cock and her tight fertile vagina a perfect match now.

Wendy: “Not that I’m mad, but what was the phone call about that got you so excited. OH, GOD, YES!”

Paul, the ‘loser’: “Butch is gone; apparently he couldn’t take it when he saw you with all of those beautiful children filling up my ‘loser mobile’. I can’t explain it; I never wanted to celebrate someone else’s misfortune, but with him? After the abuse he gave me, and the childish practical jokes he pulled on you when you stopped dating him, he really did deserve a bad ending to his little tragic life. The fact that he is gone makes me want to make more babies with you, a lot more. Hell, let’s celebrate! Sweetheart, it’s BABY-TIME!”

Wendy: “Oh yes, please, fuck me, MAKE ME PREGNANT! Just the idea that I could help you get revenge on Butch, a REAL loser, and get back at him for what he did to both of us makes it all worthwhile. I never wanted to admit it to you, but the fact that his tiny bubbles of semen were dripping into the waste basket, or down the john, while your precious, wondrous sperm were welcomed into a receptive, warm, damp, loving place–fertile ground for your seed to grow, was revenge enough for me. Now honey, enough recreation; let’s get to PROcreation.”

Paul pushed his thick ten inch pole into the superheated dark passage on the road to Wendy’s incredibly fertile womb. His cock did not occupy it per se; that would have made filling it with his virile offering impossible. Paul’s mighty cock filled up her womb with a quart of sperm laden cum, the excess semen dripped out over the course of the night and was still leaking out after she dressed and drove that mini-van to the grocery store. She had to use paper towels to wipe her glistening tanned creamy, smooth thighs of the oozing excess spunk. She hoped that she could get thru shopping before it leaked out again. Unfortunately, after only a few minutes of shopping, she looked down at her beautiful feet in those casual tatami woven sandals. That darn clear fluid leak was back, dripping down to her perfectly pedicured ruby red toes. She remembered that she was picking up only canned goods and was headed out to the distant mall to catch a once-a-year sale, so she’d have to clean up here and now. She went to the grocery store’s bathroom and wiped herself down of the excess semen from last night one final time. That was that for that little stream at least.

She returned to the store to finish shopping and head for that super sale. With a quiet “Damn it”, Wendy realized that she had forgotten something else she was supposed to do in that bathroom. She was clear across the store, in the unlit corner of the produce section; it was just too much to walk back to the farthest part of the store to that ugly bathroom. No, she would have to ‘relieve the pressure’ right here and now.

Looking around, Wendy opened her blouse and nursing bra. Out plopped a breast worthy of Playboy, her nipple already popped and ready. She pressed on the nozzle and a powerful stream of delicious mother’s milk was propelled out with fire hose power. She washed down the avocadoes, honeydews, and peaches. After draining both of her perfect breasts of their copious load of breastmilk, half the produce section was drenched in sticky white gold. She didn’t pause to wonder why she had insisted on spraying her copious reservoir of warm, sweet milk over the entire fruit section instead of simply dumping it down the water runoff gutter in front of each display.

Unknown to Wendy, a bachelor and then an old spinster had watched her. The male shopper grabbed a peach and started eating it with almost orgasmic delight. The 50-ish woman shopper left in an apparent indignant huff. She returned five minutes later, having found a big empty produce box. She proceeded to fill the produce box with as much desperation and fervor as that man, standing by the peach bin, eating those dripping fruit. She managed to gather almost 40 pounds of fruit, sticky with mom’s milk. She was never happier buying anything.