Tiffany Watson

They call him Fluffy. The name stuck after seventh-grade gym, stuck the way wet gym socks stick to tile. He never could run the mile or land the girls, but Business 101 looks promising. Tiffany Watson is cute, blonde, shaved, and she’s been leaning into him, smiling, asking if he can help her pass the class. Fluffy thinks the smiles are for him; really she just needs a tutor. Isiah Maxwell needs the same favor—only he’s the six-foot-three All-American who shows up uninvited and ruins Fluffy’s moment. Fluffy finally asks Tiffany out, heart hammering, and the door opens on cue. Isiah fills the frame like the room was built for him. Tiffany’s voice changes when she sees him. She forgets the textbook, forgets Fluffy sitting there with his stammering date idea. Minutes later she’s on Isiah’s lap, skirt hiked, panties gone, riding the cock that makes her squirt in hot, sudden pulses across the carpet. Fluffy watches from the chair he paid for, homework still open, listening to every wet slap and every shaky breath she gives away. When Isiah finishes, he stays inside her, pumping until thick white cum leaks out around his shaft and runs down her thighs. Tiffany moans, still twitching, still dripping. She doesn’t look at Fluffy until Isiah pulls out and the creampie spills onto the floor. Only then does she smile, small and lazy, like she just remembered he’s there. She used to let the nice boys touch her once or twice—hands, mouths, nothing more. They all thought she was saving it. She was. She just wasn’t saving it for them. She saves the rest for men like Isiah. Everyone else, especially guys like Fluffy, gets what’s left when the bigger, darker cock is done.