Revenge
written by:
Naughty Miranda

Oh, we all know guys like Bill. He's God's gift to women, and he doesn't care who knows it. He's got a cock the size of Connecticut, a mouth as wide as the Mississippi, and what he doesn't know about pleasing the babes could be written on the back of a postage stamp. And there's nothing he likes more than sinking a bucket of beer with his buddies, while he regales them with the latest newsflash about his love life.

"Yeah, she was begging for it by the time I was done licking her pussy," he was saying. "I had her coming out of her ears, and her ass was bouncing so hard I could have used her as shocks on my Chevy."

"Did ya fuck her, then?" That was Butch, a rodent-like, pimply little jerk whose parents probably wet themselves laughing when they remember what they named him. Butch? He couldn't fart his way out of a wet paper bag, and you know the only reason Bill kept him around was because an ego can never have too many supporters. Not when it's the size of Bill's, anyway.

He looked up as I walked over. "Oh look, it's the Witch Bitch." A couple of months back, I'd floated the idea of starting a Wiccan group on campus - and why not? The Catholics had one, the Jews had one, even the Buddhists ... all two of them ... had one. But the Dean put a stop to that idea, then rewarded me with a lecture on the dangers of Satanism. Which, of course, is precisely the kind of stupidity that I wanted to stomp on by forming the group. But that's just the way of the world. The dumb get dumber and the rest of us better join them, else they'll shoot us while we're sleeping..

It's a small world and a smaller campus. Word got out about my plan, and Bill (of course it was Bill - who else has his erudite way with words?) immediately coined a new name for me. At first it was just "the Witch." Then, when I told him where he could stick his wit, his poetic genius added "Bitch" to the name.

There was more. There was the copy of the Witch Bitch Prayer that was pinned to the notice board, a badly typed revision of the Lord's Prayer, spattered with references to Satan and lesbians. Nobody saw who put it there, but how many typewriters were there on campus that didn't have the letter "e"? Apart from Bill's?

I put my name down for various campus activities. Bill would cross it out. And there was that little incident in my dormitory, where someone jerked off on my pillowcase. Again, nobody actually saw who did it, but why was Bill seen trotting down the back stairs during recess, when nobody else was around?

So, yeah, there's a bit of history here. And it ends tonight.

I walked over to the pool table, and I was looking fucking hot. Tits tucked high, shorts cut higher... you know what they used to say about English girls' clothing, when the first American servicemen got there during World War Two? "One Yank and it's off." My ensemble barely needed a gentle tug, and I'll tell you what the best part is? I wasn't wearing anything underneath. I was 20, I was tight in all the right places, and I didn't need the panty lines to add contours to my ass. Yeah, Bill may think he's God's gift to women, but I know I was the Goddess' gift to men that night, and I was waving my bounty in his face.

I picked up a cue, stroked my fingers down the shaft. "So, Billy boy, fancy having your ass whupped tonight?"

"Yeah, right." I could feel his little ferrety eyes boring into my cleavage, and I braced my back just a little, to give him a better view.

"Come on. One frame, and I'll tell you what. Winner takes all." I raised one leg, put my foot on the edge of the table. "And I mean all," I smiled, and felt all five pairs of eyes staring into my crotch.

"Go on, Bill, you can take her," one of his cronies smirked. "And then you can take her again. Come on, she's offering it to you on a plate."

Bill was stupid, but he wasn't dumb. "Yeah, but I don't trust her. She's up to something."

"You reckon? Or maybe you're just chicken." I picked up a ball from the table, balanced it on my palm, then traced a fingertip lightly across it.

"Chicken? Around you? Fuck off, Witch Bitch. I just don't trust you, that's all."

"Yeah, you might turn him into a frog or something." That was Butch.

"I might turn you back into a human being if you don't watch yourself," I snapped back, and there was a laugh from the others, despite themselves. "So Bill, are you game? I'll even let you break."

Bill still looked doubtful, but things had gone too far for him to back out. His pride depended upon it. "Okay. But you heard her, guys. Winner takes all. And I warn you, Witch Bitch, I don't go lightly on anyone."

"I wouldn't expect you to, champ," I cooed. "But I'll warn you. Neither do I."

I'll say one thing for Bill. He's not a bad pool player. Unfortunately for him, neither am I. Three years hanging with completely the wrong sort of guy (or so my folks used to complain, when I came home with hickies all over my neck) teaches you a lot of tricks, and playing pool is one of them. So bang-bang-bang and the game was over before Bill was even warmed up.

I stood silently, still stroking my cue; Bill just glowered, while his disciples watched him uncertainly. The guy's an asshole, and he has an asshole's temper. But tonight he simply shrugged. "Luck. The balls lined up for you. You probably put a hex on them or something." It's funny, he ripped seven shades of shit out of me for being a witch, but he certainly didn't have any problem believing it.

"Maybe I did," I smiled. "But tell you what. We'll play again, and this time, no tricks, no hexes. You up for it?"

Again he looked uncertain; again it was the nudging and nods of his crowd that made him back down. "Okay. But someone, get me a drink first." "Get me one, too," I snapped. "Pernod and ice, not too much ice."

"She even drinks like a fucking witch," I heard Butch growl. "What the fuck's Pernod?" My God, where do these people come from?

This game went much the same as the last, except this time, Bill barely got started. You know what it's like when every shot you take is the right one, and you've got the ball ricocheting off the cushions, knocking everything down that it's meant to? Even I was surprised how easy it was, and the look on Bill's face was just priceless.

"Okay, so winner takes all, right?" I leaned the cue against the table, walked around to where Bill was standing. It was funny, but his crowd all stepped away as I approached, lining up against the wall like they were scared I was going to eat them or something. Which, had they only known, was sort of what I had in mind. But first, I was going to have my fun.

"Okay, all of you, into the Ladies."

"Fuck you."

"Not if you don't go into the Ladies, you won't!"

"You're shitting us, right?" Bill had a bit of his old swagger back, although I could see he was still unsure of himself. But I smiled and turned the corner, down the corridor to the bathroom. Behind me, I could hear the others following me.

The ladies room was immense, 20 stalls, ornate brass fixtures, mirrors that soared to the ceilings. Back in the 1930s, this entire building was a public swimming bath, before a particularly nasty polio out-break led to it being closed down. It stood derelict for almost 40 years, then this guy named Sam bought it up and opened a nightclub.

The disco boom died, and the nightclub died with it, so he slowly sold off the rest of the building, and hung onto the foyer and the offices alone. Now it was Sam's, the best bar in town, and the only student hangout where they didn't check ID. Sam's brother was chief of police.

I leaned back against the wash basins, popped a piece of gum in my mouth, and was just about to blow the first bubble when the door swung open and Bill stuck his head round. "You want to do it in here?"

He sounded nervous. "What's the matter, big boy? Never been in the ladies room before?" Behind him, there was a thump and a shuffling as the rest of his pack came to a halt behind him.

"I still want to know what you're up to."

"Yeah? Well, there's only one way to find out." I started unbuttoning my blouse, not all the way, but just enough to let my breasts hang free. There was a sharp intake of breath. "Christ, look at the tits on that," came a whisper and I craned my neck to see which of the goblins had said it.

"You wanna piece of them?" I pulled open my blouse. "They're here. Come and get them."

Nobody moved. "Come on, Bill, you're not scared of a pair of old tits, are you? You've sucked on bigger ones than this, I know you have."

"What if I have?"

"Well, I just want to find out if you're as good at it as you say you are." I walked over to where he still stood at the door, took his hand and laid it on my left tit. "See, they don't bite. But do you?"

He gave me a tentative squeeze, and then a slightly firmer one, feeling me up as he sized me up. I looked him in the eye. "Okay, well you've sampled the goods, so now it's my turn." I reached out and cupped his balls through his jeans. He leaped back as though I'd scalded him; then paused as he caught the eyes behind him. Safety in numbers. "Come on you lot, if you're coming in."

He watched as they pushed in around him... three, four, five of them. Plus Bill, that's six. For the first time, a flicker of doubt ran through my mind. I could take two of them for sure, three if I had to. But half a dozen?

Divide and conquer, and remember who's in charge. I withdrew my hand from Bill's crotch and moved down the line... because that's what it had formed itself into, a line of raw, nervous recruits, with me the Sergeant Major, about to whip them into shape. "Alright boys you've seen what I've got. Now let's see yours."

Hands moved to their collars, unbuttoning shirts. I shook my head. "I don't care about that. I want to see downstairs." And I grabbed the nearest waistline I could, and tugged roughly at the belt. "Hello, Butch."

All eyes were on my victim, as I unbuttoned his pants, unzipped his fly and then, kneeling quickly in front of him, I pulled down his trousers and boxers together.

His cock was tiny. Soft and tiny.

I stood. "Now that's what I want to see. A real man. Come on, fellahs, take a look at him. That's a cock and a half if ever I saw one. Or does anyone care to show me a better one?"

I moved to the next boy, repeated the pantomime. "Oh my, things are really getting steamy now. However can I control my excitement?" And down the line I went, until all five of Bill's friends were standing there sorrowfully, pants around their ankles and their itsy-bitsy inchworms barely popping from their loins.

I stood before Bill. "But you're going to show us how it's really done, aren't you?" I shrugged off my blouse and lay it on the floor, then knelt down before him, my face at crotch level. "Come on Bill, make me beg for it," I said softly. "Whip it out and fuck my brains out."

"Slut," he muttered under his breath. "Witchy bitchy slut."

"That's me. But isn't that how you like your girls? That's how you talk about them, anyway. So come on, let's see how you treat them. Give us all a show."

He still wasn't moving, so I did it for him, jerking down his trousers, brushing his bulge with the side of my hand. Well at least there was something there, this time. I wondered if maybe there was some truth to his tales? But he was clinging onto the waistband of his jockeys, and I knew there was no point playing tug of war with them. So I pointed a finger at his midriff, then traced it down to his cock. Once, twice... and there was an answering twitch, and the unmistakable quiver of a soft cock unfurling.

"Hey Bill, where would like to put it? You want it up my ass? My mouth? My pussy? Come on, you're the big man, the hard man, the one who's done it all. Show me what you can do."

He still wasn't moving, so I raised my voice. "Show me!"

He raised one leg, began drawing off his underwear. His cock was half-respectable now, not as big as he'd boasted, but not as small as I'd half-expected. Thick as well, with the kind of fat, meaty head that you could use as a war club if it wasn't so soft. "Now that's better."

I turned to the others. They were still standing stock still, their eyes firmly fixed to the floor in front of them. "Take a look, boys. You've heard enough about it, surely you want to see it as well?" There was an embarrassed shuffling. Somebody coughed. "Nobody? Never mind, all the more for me, then."

Back on my knees, I inched closer to Bill, and now I did have their attention. It dawned on me, Bill's stories were probably the closest this crowd had ever come to a real woman before; and now they were about to see for themselves exactly what all the fuss was about.

"Made up your mind yet, Bill? Where you want it?"

"Yeah. I want you to suck on it." He'd found his voice, and a touch of his old bravado as well. I leaned forward, holding him firm in my fist, and angled his meat towards my mouth. "I can do that," I said sweetly. "But are you sure you want me to? I have very sharp teeth, you know."

"Yeah, but you won't use them, will you? Because you want it so much, right? You just want Bill's big old poker down your throat, and you won't stop sucking till you've swallowed all my come." He turned his head, grinned widely at his mates, as if to tell them "I've got her now." And, when my lips closed over the head of his cock, struggled for a moment to fit it all in, then sucked deep and hard on his hot, tangy flesh, I do think he really believed that. But hey, he calls me Witch Bitch because he thinks it's clever. I call myself Witch Bitch because it happens to be true. I am a witch, and I am a bitch. And Bill, I'm afraid, is about to find out exactly what that means.

He tasted good. I hate to admit it, because he's such a fucking asshole, but he tasted good, and he felt even better. Fully erect now, his cock had a rare strength; even as I held it down with a fist round the root, I could feel it straining against me, forcing me to adjust my position, straighten my back as I knelt before him, so it could stand at the angle it wanted to. And the helmet! Oh my God, I said it looked meaty, but it felt meaty too, thick and heavy, a bulb of solid manhood that still seemed to be swelling, even now.

For a moment, I thought of abandoning my plan, of just sucking this delicious dick all the way, of taking him to the edge of delirium, then toppling over it with him in my mouth. I wanted to taste his come, and then taste it some more, swallow it down while he plunged back and forth, mashing his mess with my spit and saliva, till it bubbled out of my straining lips, and dripped down onto my tits. Fuck, I wanted that so bad.

But I also knew what the consequence would be, one more notch on the Big Man's bedpost, one more conquest to be bragged about later. "Yeah, that Witch Bitch? You should've seen her, sucking my prick and drinking my muck, she couldn't get enough of it." You could see the thoughts forming in his mind already. I glanced up at him, all wide-eyed and innocent, and even though his eyes were closed tight, I just knew what was going through his head. Time, I think, for a change.

I looked over at his boys. All five of them were watching now, and a couple were jerking off. I banished that thought straight away. There's a lot of things that turn me on, but watching a guy jerk off on his own, that's right up there with the best of them. I tore my eyes away from their cocks and tried to catch their eyes. And, all the while, I was sucking and slurping, feeling the vein pulse against my hot tongue, tasting his pre-come as it started to form.

It was Butch who bit first. I knew he would. I don't know how, but I knew he would. His mouth was wide, his cock was hard, and his eyes were popping out of his head. But I caught his gaze and I locked it down, then turned just a little, to give him a better view of the action.

I withdrew Bill's prick from my mouth with a plop, smiled, and then started licking it. Slowly, languorously, sweetly, like it was the best tasting Popsicle I'd ever got my lips around.

Every so often I'd pop it back in, give it a suck and a bit of deep throat. Still slow, still gentle. And so inviting... like, wouldn't you like a taste of this meat? Wouldn't you like to feel it slipping in between your lips? Come on, Butchy boy, every guy gets curious once in a while, and believe me, you're not gonna find a better cock than this. But you'd better make your mind up fast, better get your sweet little ass down here soon. You don't want Bill to finish before you can have your share, do you?

Butch's fist was pounding now. I reached my free hand out towards him, stretched and brushed the tip of his cock. He gasped and his own hand dropped away; instinctively, he shuffled forward, and I grasped him, pulled him closer, then pulled him down. Now he was crouching at my side, his face just a few inches away from mine. Away from Bill's prick.

I quit licking and whispered, "you want a taste?"

Butch's head swiveled to stare at me, his eyes wide, his mouth still open, his tongue licking nervously at his bottom lip. Indecision, fear and ... yes, desire. He wanted a taste.

I was jerking Bill hard now, to keep his mind on the job. His eyes were open now, and I could see a shadow of doubt in there, wondering what was going on. But I know how a guy's mind works. Get him worked up far enough, and close enough to coming, and it's the only thing in the whole world he cares about. And you can bend him into any shape you want to. "Go on, Butch, do it. You'll never get another chance."

I sucked again, flicked my tongue across the tip, boring it into the slit at the end, then pointed it straight towards Butch. "Suck him," I whispered, and Butch started to suck, first leaning and then almost leaping forward, and burying that stiff prick deep into his mouth.

I stepped back and buttoned my blouse. Wiped my mouth. I heard gasps from around me, saw eyes flit to Bill's face. But Bill didn't care; he was right on the cusp now, and nothing was going to stop him. A hand wrapped itself round the back of Butch's skull, forced the boy's face closer in, pushed that cock deeper down. I heard Butch gag, and thought for a moment that he might break away. But Bill pushed in deeper and the crisis was past. Bill was fucking his best buddy's throat, and both hands were on Butch's head now, as the come built up and his ball bag tightened and POW!

Butch was in trouble. I could hear him splutter and trying to swallow, to keep himself from choking more. But Bill wasn't letting go for anything. He was pumping hard and crying out loud, "oh God, oh fuck, oh don't stop now"; and his friends were standing there in absolute horror, watching the star of the football team, the frat boy super stud, the biggest and loudest kid in the college, slamming his sperm down another guy's throat, and loving... no, adoring... every minute of it.

Now Butch was holding him, his hands on Bill's ass, sucking the last few drops from his dick, breaking to lick it and kiss the boy's balls. And that, with the sweetest, most beautiful timing you could ever hope to encounter, was when the door to the ladies room came flying open, and in stepped Sam with a face like thunder, and I don't know who looked the more surprised.

Bill and his mates to see him there? Or Sam, as he took in the scene spread out before him - four guys standing with their trousers down, all of them masturbating furiously, while the fifth still sucked the big man's cock, come running down his scarlet chin, and dripping onto his jacket. Oh, and a girl who was pressed up against the washbasins, her eyes wide and her face all flustered, as though she really didn't want to be here, but had somehow been forced to stay and watch.

Sam swooped, and two other guys, a bartender and a bouncer, followed. Bodily, they grabbed the guys, didn't even give them a chance to pull up their pants. One under each arm, shouting and struggling, they were carried from the bathroom and deposited in the corridor, for all to see their discomfort and more. Even Bill, big Bill, with his cock all soft and sticky, was thrown out to his adoring public, and before I'd even left the room, Sam's arm solicitously round my shoulder, the word was going round.

First a whisper, then a Chinese Whisper. Bill and his friends, sucking cock in the bathroom. Swallowing come and loving it all. Hey, no-one here is down on gays - I once heard that ours' was the most "out" campus in America, and even the jocks tended to let them alone. But there's a big difference between being gay and being a loud-mouthed hypocrite, and Bill, I'm afraid, had crossed that line big time.

Sam held me still for a moment. "You don't need anything? Is there anyone I should call?"

"No, really, I'm okay." A crowd was gathering around us, all ears straining to catch every word. "They never touched me. I was so scared, but I think they were more interested in each other."

"Are you going to call the cops?"

Of course, he was probably more worried about his license than me, family ties or not. "No, there's no reason. They didn't do anything to me. Just... well, I hope that never happens to me again."

Sam smiled. "Don't you worry about that, sweetie. Not around here anyway. The lot of them are barred for life and, if anybody asks me why, I'll tell them straight. I know a lot of things go on in those bathrooms that I'm not supposed to find out about, and that's fine, just so long as they do it in private. But out in the open like that? It's disgusting, and it's insulting."

He looked up to where Bill and one of the others were still standing by the main door, their faces mute masks of shock and horror. "You hear that?" Sam shouted. "You want to suck each other's cocks, do it in your own homes. Not mine." And that was it. If anyone had still been wondering what all the fuss was about, now they knew. And I knew that, by first class tomorrow, the whole campus would have heard about it.

And that suited me just fine. I adjusted my blouse, gave my mouth one last wipe, then went to the bar and ordered a drink. Three different guys all offered to pay for it, so I let each of them buy me a refill. After everything that I'd just been through tonight... well, let's just say I was feeling mighty thirsty. And I had some unfinished business with a stiff prick to conclude.