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 rushes to make the door I now held open. The two paisley-patterned recyclable bag 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 a 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 boyshorts.

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 10 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 500 million swimmers to carry on his bloodline. But I’m far from average. Whenever a futanari does the same, she sends approximately 1 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 don’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 7pm 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 5’11” 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 dances from the bottle to our glasses like ribbons of crimson. We chat over steaming pasta about our lives. She laments over the luck-luster dates she’s endured: Limp personalities with limp dicks to boot. I 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.

“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 6 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.