Vicky vs. Lola: The Toughest Choice In The World

Damn.
It’s hard to choose, almost impossible. Why do I have to pick myself? Why do I keep finding myself in places like this? I’m trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. Between a rock and a hard place. Between Vicky and Lola.

Lola’s on the right. Her tight blue cocktail dress covers most of her hips, though exposes a thin layer of pale skin in the shape of a piece of underwear. Her back is arched, like a stretching cat, her arms flat on the floor before her. I can’t see her face, but I’m fairly sure her eyes are closed, and I imagine her biting her lower lips as I slide my hand up her leg.

The evening started like every other one would do. As a bartender in a large club in the center of town, I know most of the regulars by name. A few of them were in early, as usual. Bobby McFadden was sitting at the slot machines, dropping coins and pulling the lever down and up again. Jack and Sam Johnstone fought a brotherly feud at the pool table. Some of the locals had taken their usual place at the bar. They were getting ready for the crowds to come in. Students, a lot of students. And tourists. Mix the two together and add large amounts of alcohol, and all hell breaks loose.

The club is notorious for its late night troubles. Just weeks ago, two men got shot when they unknowingly attacked one of the members of a biker gang. We haven’t seen a night without thrown and broken glass for over a year. One of the bathroom stalls isn’t connected to the water network, its sole purpose is to offer refuge for newly created couples greedy enough not to be able to wait until they get home. It’s not the classiest place in town – but it sure is the funnest.

On the left is Vicky. She’s a true featherweight, I highly doubt she’s reaching triple digits. Every gram of fat has gathered in her chest, giving her the highest boob-to-weight ratio I’ve ever encountered. Her size makes it near impossible for her panties to stay where they are, which explains why it hasn’t at all been hard to slide them aside a few inches. Her hands rest on her lower back.

On an average night, it’s Lola who comes in first, gauging the crowd before she starts her hunt, but today, Vicky was early. She sat at the bar and sipped from her diet coke, her usual starter. As the crowd grew larger, Vicky got more and more surrounded. Her pretty face and petite body always made her a wanted conversation partner – be it usually with other intentions. Because Vicky never takes drinks from a stranger – it’s a bad, bad idea in places like this – I get to look her in the eyes about every thirty minutes. I never saw anything special, until the very end of the evening.

Lola pushes her body up and throws her head back. She looks at me with her upside down eyes and wiggles her hips.
“Make up your mind, Quinn,” she says.
She almost sounds angry, or perhaps frustrated is a better term.
My fingers run over her back, crossing the edge between dress and skin. I slam my hand into her right buttock and make sure my thumb lands right between the cheeks. The moisture grabs my skin and holds on tight, luring my finger into her secret alley.

Lola came in just in time to see Bobby win a fair amount of his own money back at the slot machine. I wasn’t surprised to see she was one of the first to stand next to him and to collect a drink from the plate he bought with his earnings. After she snuck in a second one, she left him for the others. Bobby wasn’t the type of guy she was after. She needed more financial security, she wanted to be sure she would get drunk without spending a penny, and hopefully leave her victim’s place tomorrow with a wallet or another kind of souvenir.

Even Vicky is getting impatient. Without turning her head, she starts to mumble.
“Come on, Quinn,” I hear her say. “The suspense is killing me.”
“Quinn,” Lola adds, “it’s time. Do or die.”
I can’t decide.

As the visitor count started to decrease for the first time tonight, Lola gave up. Her success rate was incredibly high, but tonight, things just didn’t work out for her. Every guy she tried to seduce was either happily married, or didn’t feel like spending large amounts of money just to get laid. Of course, she could have just gone home with someone anyway, but that wasn’t Lola’s style. She sat down at the bar an ordered a strong, toxic-looking liqueur. She watched the crowd slowly disappear into the dark night, keeping an eye on the door in case a late prey came through. Nothing happened.

Vicky had had more luck. She had been involved in a drunk kissing orgy. As she got pushed from one guy to another, she tasted every single tongue that came close to hers. The guys around her laughed, not knowing not a single one would go home with her tonight.

The last customers dawdled around the wardrobe, not overly willing to go home just yet. Once again, I had to force the out-of-order bathroom stall open in order to get a sweaty and greasy couple out. When I came back, only a handful of people were still in the building: two coworkers, who were also getting ready to call it a day, a few lazy drunks, and both Vicky and Lola. I told my colleagues I could handle closing up by myself, and as they took the remainder of the visitors outside, it was just me and the two gorgeous, drunk, drugged and sleepy girls sitting at neighboring stools.

“Guess I’m gonna have to fuck the both of you tonight, huh,” I bragged.
Loud laughter behind me. The amount of times either one of us three had made a sexual reference about one another was innumerable, yet no such thing had ever occured between Lola and me or Vicky and me, and I highly doubted they had done anything similar together either. I had expected some kind of “Nuh uh!” or “No way!” from either one of them, but there was only silence. I looked around and noticed the silence was only apparent, as Lola’s head almost touched Vicky’s, and I could clearly see Lola’s lips moving close to Vicky’s ear. Vicky grinned widely and all of a sudden, four evil eyes looked straight at me.

“You have to pick,” Lola said as she jumped up. “Both is not an option. But there’s a catch.”
“A huge catch!” Vicky screamed. She climbed on the bar and threw herself over it, blindly trusting me to catch her as she fell. “Your decision will be final. There will be no turning back – ever. Choose wisely, for you will never get to change your mind.”
I was perplexed by the sudden change of pass of the conversation. Were they saying what I thought they were?
“Never ever,” Lola grinned. She stooped, then seconds later came back up, holding in her hand a tiny piece of clothing that I suddenly recognized as a pair of panties. She playfully dropped it on the floor and walked across the bar, but instead of coming directly towards me, she stood behind Vicky and started to unbutton her denim shorts. Vicky chuckled and pulled me towards her, sandwiching herself between Lola’s body and mine. She started grinding, moving her hips until her shorts couldn’t grab onto her smooth skin any longer and dropped down on the floor.

Lola yanked the dishcloth from my hand and threw it around my neck, guiding me, and therefore Vicky as well, towards the middle of the club. The lights were still hitting the retro disco ball hanging from the ceiling, leaving fast-moving, random beams of light all over the ground glass floor. Lola sat down and summonned Vicky to dc the same. As I kneeled down behind them, my left leg between Vicky’s and the right between Lola’s, my hands resting on their lower backs, I started to realize this was going to be the toughest choice I’d ever had to make.

“Quinn!”
Lola turns her body around and looks straight at me.
“No time for day-dreaming. I need this.”
“No, I need this,” I hear Vicky shout. “Do me, Quinn!”
My eyes move left and right in a quick manner. I go over the options once more.

Vicky, possibly the tightest one I will ever get to feel. If I decide she’s the one, one forceful blow would slam her body forward and might even make her fall down, which would be the best thing that could happen. In any case, she’d scream from the second I’d enter her to the moment my greasy, slippery rod would slide back out of her. It’s impossible to assume that would take a long time.

Or Lola, the one who knows exactly how to bring pleasure to a guy. The initial blast wouldn’t be as big as it would be with Vicky, but it would be absolute perfection. No amount of lube could ever beat Lola’s natural level of wetness. I would be able to pound her as hard as I physically could, without having to fear for breaking any bones or slamming her into the floor.

Should I choose the perfect grip, or brittle slenderness? Assured convenience, or incredible friction? The best orgasm in the world, or the best orgasm in the world?

Suddenly, my mind straightens up. I could never forgive myself if I chose differently. Everything happens in a quick, fluent sequence. I raise my left hand and firmly slap Vicky’s behind. My right arm grabs Lola by the hips and pulls her towards me. Quickly, I unbutton my jeans and pull my dick out of my boxershorts. It’s only half-hard, but that doesn’t keep me from lining it up with Lola’s body. The moment it reaches its ultimate size and shape, I slam my hips forward. My lips mime “sorry!” to Vicky as I feel myself getting sucked into Lola’s wet slit. Vicky regroups and sits next to Lola, guiding our bodies away from each other and back. With every thrust, my balls slap Lola, though I highly doubt she even notices. She screams and calls out random syllables. I up the speed and, more importantly, the force with which I pound her. My body crushes hers, every stroke pushes her forward and closer to the floor.

I can feel it coming, but I can’t be bothered to warn either Vicky or Lola. My mind is set on pulling Lola’s hips towards me as hard as I can, whilst jamming my body into hers. The last few blows are harder than any before. Lola screams loudly and urges me to keep going, but it’s too late. In a final moment of extreme lust, I grab Vicky’s head and lay it down onto Lola’s butt. I yank my dick out and moments later, a warm, gooey wave of cum lands on Vicky’s cheek and drips down onto Lola’s skin. More waves follow, they don’t stop until more than half of Vicky’s face and a large part of Lola’s buttocks are covered in a sticky liquid. Only when I start to notice I’m getting soft again, I sit back, exhausted.

Talk about gorgeous views. Lola’s half-naked body, with puddles of cum spread all over it, and above it Vicky’s surprised face, one eye shut, her cheeks completely covered, a tacky line of cum clinging to her chin. I look at it, smile widely for a brief moment, then think, and keep thinking…

What if I had picked Vicky?

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