Kara
The first step I take onto the stage is shaky.
So is the second.
But by the third, I’m gliding, and by the fourth, I’m sashaying in my heels like a dame in a Fred Astaire flick.
Except, of course, I’m naked—but other than that, I’m cool, calm, and collected as can be.
It’s kind of weird, being naked in front of a crowd. Mom always told me that when I speak in front of many people, I should envision them naked. This is a lot like that—except now I’m the one in the nude.
But you get used to being naked after a while, I’ve realized—and the orgasms Chase and Eric just gave me aren’t exactly hurting. The longer I have my clothes off, the more natural it feels.
By the time I’m at my place on stage, standing there before the mic, I’m not even fazed.
I’m in the zone. I’m focused—as much as I can be, considering how wet I am.
“Good evening, Kara,” the pageant host says to me.
This dude has the leatheriest tan skin and the shiniest white smile I’ve ever seen. He looks like even his Botox has had Botox, and his comb-over had a comb-over. Plus, I’m pretty sure somebody tied his bow tie too tightly.
“Good evening, America,” I say, finding a camera filming me over the crowd and giving it my sauciest wink.
The host looks flustered—typical fucking dude, to be on a stage surrounded by beautiful naked women and still expect to be the star of the show.
“First and foremost, Miss Gilmore,” he says, “let me just ask—how was your trip?”
The pervy-looking dude at the drum kit in the orchestra pit grins up at me and follows up the bad joke with a little snare, bass—ba dum tish!
I’m fucking annoyed—I feel like they’re trying to rile me up. Maybe if I wasn’t still all drunk on orgasm, it would’ve worked, too.
But I’m not just any naked bimbo up on stage tonight. I’m Kara fucking Gilmore, and I’m doing this for all the dick I’m going to get once I crush this thing.
“I’ve already fallen for all of you,” I address the crowd, playing the whole thing off. “I guess now it’s time for you to fall for me.”
There’s laughter—the good kind—at that little comment, but the host looks even more pissed than ever.
“Are you ready for you question, Kara?”
“Oh,” I coo, “I’m always ready.”
The host’s forehead rumples as he sifts through his note cards while the crowd laughs again. His face lights up when he finds the card he’s looking for—and when he shines his eerie white smile at me again, there’s something sinister in his grin.
“So, tell us, Kara, what’s the best sex you’ve ever had?”
Okay, babes, I’m not gonna lie. Even I give this dude a little bit of side-eye at that fucking question. This pageant is supposed to be about, like, women’s empowerment or some shit, right?
And this fucking guy? He’s just asked me a question that’s the equivalent of sending me an unsolicited dick pic and asking if I’m horny.
“Do you need me to repeat that, Kara?” the host asks, shooting me a sickly-sweet smile.
“Oh, no need,” I say flippantly. “Not all of us are hard of hearing, honey.”
As the crowd roars with laughter, I rack my brain for an answer.
I mean, it’s a hell of a question, but I’m not some fucking virgin. I’ve fucked. I’ve sucked. I’ve blown and been blown.
There has to be one moment that’s more special than the rest.
I just need to put my slutty little finger on it.
I know if Ryan is watching me right now, he’s probably drooling in the hopes that I might name him on live television as the best sex of my life—but he can take a fucking hike.
If I have to narrow it down to just one bang, then it’s obviously either with Chase or Eric—or is it Chase and Eric?
Memories of my time with them play out like a movie reel in my mind.
Chase and Eric, shirtless and swathed in steam, coming towards me in the Power Plus showers. Stroking their huge, gorgeous 12-inch cocks and looking at me like I’m a piece of cheesecake on cheat day.
The leather straps around my wrists as Eric cuffs me to his bedposts—the way it felt when he moved inside me, the ‘I love you’ on his lips, and the taste of my cunt in his kiss.
My honey smeared up and down Chase’s dick as I rode him beneath the squat rack, the way he looked at me like I was the most beautiful fucking thing in the universe, and the huge, gaping hole his dick tore through my yoga pants.
Hell, I could even talk about what just happened backstage literally moments ago. The way Eric held me, talking dirty in my ear while Chase made me orgasm so hard against his mouth that I nearly had an out-of-body experience, for fuck’s sake.
But no—none of them sum it up right. How the hell am I supposed to explain to this stadium full of people the incredible fucking experience I had with Chase and Eric?
That’s just it, isn’t it?
I can’t.
I fucking can’t.
“I don’t have a story about the best sex of my life,” I admit into the microphone.
The sound reverberates around the arena. It’s quickly joined by the collective gasp of the crowd.
“Oh, you poor thing—” the host coos at me with a nasty grin that only grows nastier.
I hold my hand up to stop him before he goes any further.
“You must be fucking terrible in bed, dude,” I say—also into the mic. “I’m not fucking finished.”
The crowd roars with laughter again—and that’s when I know that I’ve got ‘em.
“The best sex of my life isn’t just one crazy night. One wild memory. It’s not a fucking 3000-word scene in some smutty fucking novel,” I tell the captivated audience. “Maybe it’s not the same for the rest of you—and that’s okay, everyone’s different.
“But for me, sex isn’t just one moment. Sex is an entire experience. It’s pleasure. It’s passion. It’s your nails marking his back and your teeth at his throat...It’s your eyes rolling to the back of your head while your body convulses like it’s being electrocuted by his dick.”
I bite my lip, settling back and letting that little image sink in. I know they’re all imagining me like that right now, and it’s the sexiest thing. Fuck, I’m getting even wetter just thinking about it.
“The best sex of my life has been an experience,” I continue. “Not with just one man—but with two.”
The crowd gasps.
Then, they fucking hoot and holler and cheer while I grin.
They want more. I can feel it.
I’ve got their balls in my hand while they sit on the edges of their seats.
Lucky for them, I’m no tease—no matter what Chase and Eric might say.
If they fucking want it, I’ll fucking give it to them.
“Once upon a time, I masturbated in the shower of a men’s locker room to the thought of being fucked by two men I literally just met. And they heard me do it, too.”
I look at the crowd and add, “They heard me screaming their names while I orgasmed against my fingers, and they took it upon themselves to make that fantasy a reality.”
I gesture to my slick, curvaceous, and muscled body. “I didn’t always look like this. Some of you might even remember me from my plus-size modeling days. Kara Gilmore, queen of size eighteen.”
Whispers spread through the crowd, and a few people gasp. “I didn’t feel good about myself at that weight. And the worse I felt, the more I ended up eating—and the bigger I became. I got so big that I lost everything—my career, my shitty, pencil-dicked boyfriend—”
The crowd boos at that point, which I appreciate the fuck out of them for.
“I got so big,” I tell them, “that once I lost the weight, I couldn’t even see myself for the woman I’d become. But these two men—they changed that for me. They changed everything. They fucked me and used my body for their pleasure—”
I’m like, ninety percent certain that at least half of the crowd now has their dicks out to the sound of my voice.
“They made me orgasm around their thick 12-inch cocks and realize that I’m a woman—a sexy, powerful, sensual woman—and that all women deserve to feel like the universe begins and ends with their pleasure.”
The crowd is loving it, so I give them more—but it’s not just for them. It’s for me, too.
“Learning these men’s bodies, letting them learn mine, sucking them off, coming for them, making them come for me, and slurping up every last ounce of their delicious, salty sweet cum—” My voice is rising, and I think I’m about to fucking explode.
“That’s the best sex of my life!” I shout into the mic. “Hands down, no contest. In fact, if you’ll excuse me...They’re waiting for me backstage, and I think I’m going to go fuck them again right now.”
If I was holding the mic instead of leaning into the mic stand, I would have fucking dropped it. Kara out.
Instead, I blow a kiss at the camera and strut off stage while the crowd fucking loses it behind me.
I know damn well that I’ve won this entire fucking pageant—and also that the camera zoomed on my ass when I left the stage.