Sex by the Numbers (BBW and Alpha Males)

SEX BY THE NUMBERS

Lynn Richards

“So,
I get the
low
numbers – six, seven, eight, nine, ten – and even the twelve,
but what are the others?” Emily
Thorton motioned to a man with a twelve on his back and a sixteen on
his front
. “Why two numbers?
Cause
let me tell you if you see a
sixteen
inch penis coming at you, I suggest you turn and run the other way.
”

The gaggle of women seated around her burst into gales of laughter. A few snorted, a few cackled.

Her best friend
Jennifer
just sighed. “
You
can’t even say it, can you?”

“Say what?” She had a very good idea what her friend meant, but was so not going to say it.

“Cock, dick, jackhammer.” She threw her hands up in
frustration
. “Anything, and I mean anything, but penis!”

The last word was almost
shouted
,
earning
the group some strange stares. Really strange
considering
the type
of
club they were in.

A Mandingo Club. Yup, that’s what
Jennifer
had said
. Emily
didn’t really
get that
reference either but she wasn’t about to ask, she appeared
naive
enough as it was. Which she was. Truly
naive
. But it wasn’t her fault. Circumstances had forced her to live a
very sheltered life. An all girl
’s catholic school until college, t
hen, even though she’d been
accepted
into Harvard,
Yale
and
Stanford
– her dream college, three thousand miles away from her parents
– she had attend Wesley, an
all girl’s college
on the east coast
less than a
hundred miles away from her parents
.

Majoring in psychology had been hard,
leaving
her little time to socialize
. While
Wesley
was not a fortress with mo
at
s and drawbridges guarding the
virgins
within, it was difficult to date. But more important
,
it was difficult to form any lasting relationships
with a member of the opposite sex with the restrictions on her time and the inaccessibi
lity of the college coeds
.
She knew all she could
possibly
want to know about the female population – and some things she truly wished she had never learned, but there were so many blanks in her knowledge when it came
to
men.

The bartender brought another round
of
drinks. She had no idea who had ordered them this ti
me;
she just knew they’d all be paying for them later – literally and
figuratively
.

They’d agreed to split the bill at the end of the night – cover charges, drinks and food. With the stipulation that
if one of them ordered a drink;
she ordered
a round for the table
.

Emily had three pink colored drinks lined up in front of her,
reminding
her of the one legged flamingos stuck in the front
yard
of a trailer park. Pretty at first but faded and used
looking
at the end of the day.

She had hunch
she
’d b
e feeling
the same way
in the morning.

Not wanting good money to
go to waste, she picked up a glass
and downed
the contents
in one long gulp. They
really
weren’t
that bad
. Quite tasty in fact. She licked her lips. It was the calories
she
didn’t need. The
alcohol
she didn’t mind.
She
’d
told herself she needed to get ou
t and experience life if she wanted
to become a successful
psychologist.
How could she possibly relate to the woman who habitually got drunk and picked up a differen
t man each Friday night if she’d
never
gotten drunk or picked up a man?

Looking over the
gorgeous
,
an
d
some not-
so
-
gorgeous
, but all acceptable men, she
knew
the
possibility
of picking up a man tonight was slim to none. Her chances being none.

Because she was also surrounded by
gorgeous
–
truly
gorgeous
wom
e
n. Against such
competition
, she fell
quickly
in
to the non-acceptable category. She wasn’t ugly
. S
he
considered
herself
pretty. And as all
of her
family was
fond of saying,
she’d be a
beautiful
girl if
she
’d
only lose
some weight. And that’s why she was unac
ceptable in this sea of women –
she was the fat one. The one no one w
ant
ed to fuck. Take that, Jennifer! W
as
that plain enough for you
?
S
he downed another flamingo.

Wait,
was that the name of the drink or had she just made that up
? If so, it was a pretty darn, uh
damn, good name even if she said so herself. The room started to spin and she reached out to steady
herself, almost pushing Jennifer
off her stool.

“Okay, ladies, no more drinks for
at least thirty minutes.
” Jennifer righted herself on the stool
.
“
O
ur woman of the hour is getting a little tipsy.”

“Am not.” Emily reached for
another
drink but Jennifer
moved
it out of her
reach
.

“Party poop
er.”

The other women laughed. It was good to be out with her friends. They rarely had time to g
et together like they use
d
to. W
ork, sch
ool, families –
something always took
priority
.

She frowned
, her thoughts blurry
. Wh
y were the
y
out tonight?

She must have
asked
the question
out loud
because Deb answered. “Because you are finally a licensed, state of the art, psychologist. You can now officially tell us all
what
we
’
re doing wrong and why we’re doing it.”

“Here, here.”
All the women around the table raised their glasses in a salute.

Except her. J
ennifer
had taken away all her
flamingos
.

“Now where were we?” Sue asked.
Emily didn’t know Sue that well
.
They hadn’t
spent
much time
together
or
gotten to know each other that well.
She was a friend of a friend.
“Oh, yes, Emily had asked a question.” She smiled cattily. “What was that you asked dear?”

If she
hadn’t
been so tipsy,
well on her way to getting
rip-roaring
drunk,
she may not have walked straight into the trap.

“I wanted to now what the other set of numbers meant.”

“Why, that’s how big a man is willing to go.” Another catty smirk.

“A man? Is this a gay club
?
If I were
a man, I’d especially run from a sixteen inch penis.
Look
there’s
a man
with a
twenty-six
on his front. Come on! T
here is no such thing as a twenty-six inch cock!”

After downing her pretty pink drinks she had no trouble calling a spade a spade. Or a cock a cock.

This time the rather
loud squawks
of laughter and giggles not only drew attention
but actually caused a
mo
ment
of
complete
silence. At leas
t
a moment of silence within a six foot
radius
. It was surprising how much a
slightly inebriated woman’s voice carried
even over the
ear shattering
music blasting in the background.

Jennifer
threw Sue
a scathing look.
Jennifer was her best friend after all.
“That’s not what it means, Emily. The number on the back indicates the size of a man’s cock.”

Man, Emily
really
liked the sound of that word.
Cock. Cock. Cock.

Jennifer
smacked her arm to get her attention. “The number on the front indicates the size of the woman they want.” She delivered the information as dry
ly and matter-of-factly
as she would have
if
describing the law of supply and demand to her first year economic students.

Thankfully, the hu
m of conversation had resumed and n
o one seemed to notice how this information had stunned Emily.

“Bu
t that mean
s
. N
o
,
that couldn’t
mean that.”

She looked around
and saw
a
gorgeous
blonde
w
ith the number
seven
on his back and a twelve on his front. That
made
sense since six
inches for a man
(no matter how much they protested)
was
considered
average and twelve was a little above the average dress size for a woman.

She looked around again, s
uddenly
realizing
she was not the only plus sized
woman
in th
e club. In fact
the number of
women of her size were bordering on being the majority
. If other women of size were as self-co
nscious as she was, or should sh
e say as undeserving as she t
hought of herself, why did they think
th
ey could actually attract a man –
especially one with
a big dick?