It won’t be easy, but nothing worth doing ever is
Every New Year’s Eve, I tell myself this is it — this is my year. On January 1st, I hit the ground running with some lofty resolution that I’m absolutely sure is going to change everything. By January 15th, I feel like a total fucking failure.
Well, I’m tired of failing.
This year I decided to set a goal that I’ll definitely never give up on, no matter how difficult it is: I’m going to fuck 365 dicks in 365 days.
How exactly will this improve my life and/or make me a better person? I concede that it probably won’t. Call it a New Year’s “challenge” instead of a “resolution” if you prefer, but I think there’s something to be said for simply accomplishing what you set out to do regardless of the material benefits.
And I’m sure there are plenty of scientific studies demonstrating the myriad health benefits of sex, both for your mind and body, but I have to be honest. That’s that not why I’m doing this. I just love to fuck.
I realize that my plan has some logistical problems. Obviously, I won’t be able to get laid every single day. For one thing, I do not have sex when I’m menstruating. Call me a prude if you want, but there it is.
In life, things come up unexpectedly. There are days I don’t even brush my teeth.
To make sure I get all 365, I’m going to have to do multiple cocks in a day sometimes. That could mean a few different partners in succession, or it could mean an orgy. The only way I’m going to succeed is by being flexible — both literally and figuratively.
The guys will be able to pop wherever they want — my face, my tits, my belly, between my feet, under my armpit — it really doesn’t matter. My only rule is they have to have their dicks in my pussy for at least a full minute. I know this is going to be a difficult hurdle for some guys, but a girl’s gotta have her standards.
Anything worth doing is worth doing well, right?
New Year’s Eve comes and I set myself a high bar right off the bat: 10 dicks before dawn on January 1st. How will this even be possible? Two words: frat party!
I know what you’re thinking: A 29-year-old woman shouldn’t be going to a frat party — especially when she’s the dean’s assistant. But I’ve seen the way these guys look at me when they come into the office, and I’m pretty sure I can find 10 of them willing to fuck me before they throw up and pass out.
By 11:58, I’m mingling with a pack of mildly-attractive beta males that I’ve managed to seduce. I’ve chosen these guys specifically because they seem awkward and inexperienced. I want to be the one steering the ship.
Don’t worry; I’ve got mace in case things get out of hand. And I’ve only been drinking water from a bottle that I brought with me. But honestly, these guys are sweet, and I think we’re all going to have a good time.
We’ve got our champagne in hand. The ball is dropping. We’re counting down: “… three… two… one. Happy New Year, everybody!”
It’s official. Time to get started.
I turn first to a doughy, red-faced boy named Jake and stick my tongue down his throat. After making out with him for several seconds, I move on to the next eagerly-awaiting mouth. And then the next.
Once I’ve properly smooched my 10 studs, I let Jake escort me to a bedroom on the second floor of the house. For safety reasons, I will be taking them one at a time tonight.
“You’re so hot,” Jake says, pawing at my tits with sweaty hands. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first time I saw you.”
“Ditto.” A little white lie never hurt anyone. A boost to his ego is only going to make him a better lay.
I kneel before him and take his cock in my mouth. It springs to life instantly. Which makes me wet instantly.
With this stable of colts I’ve chosen, there’s a high risk of premature ejaculation, but for my first night of fucking, I’d rather keep these encounters on the shorter side. I want to be able to walk tomorrow.
The good thing about young guys is they’re not big on foreplay. I don’t have time for that shit right now.
Without so much as a kiss, I push him back onto the bed and climb on top of him. He’s only five and a half inches, but I don’t need my womb tickled. He’s rock-hard, and that’s all that matters.
“Your pussy feels so good, Ms. Hadfield,” he says as I bounce up and down on his cock.
“I’m not your teacher, dummy. Call me Anne.” Also, my last name is Simmons. Maybe he’s drunker than I thought. No matter. His cock is delivering the goods.
Though he’s a bit of a minimalist, he’s actually not a bad lover. He’s fascinated with my tits and keeps a good grip on them. He rolls my nipples between his fingers, which sends a shiver up my spine.
When he finally blows his wad inside me, he leaves me wanting more. Not more of him necessarily, but more in general. Which works out just fine, because the night is young, and there are still nine guys waiting for this pussy.
Tim comes in next. He’s a skinny kid who’s too shy to look me in the eye. An over-pronounced Adam’s apple is the only clue that this boy is indeed 18 years old. Well, that and his enormous cock. It’s almost like a third arm.
“That’s it, baby,” I say, stroking his pale, hairless belly. “Keep fucking me until you cum.”
Once he gets the hang of it, he’s pretty good. I know I said I was hoping for smaller dicks tonight, but now that I have a big one inside me, I remember how good it feels to be full. Unfortunately, he blows his load before I get a chance to finish.
At least he lasts until the two-minute mark.
I kiss him on the cheek and send him on his way.
The next several guys are adequate but underwhelming. Most of them are drinking while they wait their turn, so by the time I get ahold of them, they’re pretty useless. Their body heat is the only thing that separates their dicks from cold, lifeless dildos.
Also, my dildo always makes me cum.
I knew going into this that 365 dicks wouldn’t necessarily mean 365 orgasms, but it’s New Year’s Eve. I think I deserve at least one tonight.
At this point, it’s starting to feel like I’m in a hot dog eating contest. I’m no longer tasting the food; I’m just trying to get it all down and keep it down.
Speaking of “keeping it all down,” guy number eight does not. Luckily, he doesn’t lose his lunch until he’s on his way out, because if he had gotten any on me, I would have had to call it a night.
Guy number nine is a sight for sore eyes. His name is Jarome, and he’s so into the frat culture that he actually shows up in a toga. He’s here at the university on a football scholarship and rumor has it that he may actually get drafted to play in the NFL.
I’ve never been that into athletes, but then again, this is the first time I’ve ever seen one naked. He is a Greek god sculpted out of marble. And yet his voice is sweet and soft.
Also, somehow, he’s not completely shit-faced.
“You really are beautiful, Anne,” he says as he kisses my neck. It’s been ages since a guy kissed my neck, and it invigorates my yawning pussy.
After eating me out for several minutes, he picks me up off the bed and fucks me while holding me in his arms. I wrap my legs around his tight ass and squeeze as he thrusts his cock deeper inside me.
This is something I’ve only ever seen happen in the movies and it’s hot as hell. His breath is hot, too — like cinnamon Tic Tacs. How thoughtful of him to get rid of the beer taste for me.
When his arms get tired, he puts me down, turns me around, and enters me from behind. I brace myself on a dresser as he pounds my pussy harder and harder. Though his cock isn’t as big as Tim’s, he wields it like a conductor’s baton. In this house of boys, he’s fucking me with the stamina and maturity of a grown man.
He reaches around and starts rubbing my clit, and like a New Year’s Eve miracle, I feel an orgasm building inside me.
“Fuck me harder, baby!” I shout. “I’m getting close!”
I can feel every vein of his hard cock pulsing, warning me of an imminent explosion. His legs are shaking and so is the dresser. He’s breathing fire on my back like a dragon.
My orgasmic tremors start seconds before he lights up my pussy with a giant load that spills out of me like an overflowing bathtub.
Exhausted, we both fall back onto the bed. Outside, it’s a frigid January night, but in Jarome’s arms, it’s a tropical beach. The two of us drift off into a peaceful slumber.
I wake up disoriented to the sound of banging on the door.
“Are you guys finished?” a voice calls from the other side. “You’ve been in there for hours.”
I look over at the blurry digital alarm clock on the nightstand.
“Shit! It’s 6:30! The sun will be up in minutes, and I still have one dick to go!”
“Damn,” Jarome says. “Sorry about that. I’ll go get Rick.”
“Wait!” I grab his wrist as he’s climbing out of bed. “Before you go, do you think you could warm me up? I don’t have time for your friend’s fumbling.”
Jarome smiles before diving face-first into my snatch. His magic tongue wakes me up quickly. As it dances across my clit and rolls over my fluffy lips, I find myself wanting to fuck him again
But I can’t. I’m on a mission.
“Ok, send in Rich,” I say with a sigh as Jarome pulls his beautiful face away from me.
“Rick.”
“Whatever.”
Rick stumbles in half asleep, but fully erect, with his cock protruding from his unzipped fly.
“Get over here and fuck me, Dick.”
“It’s Rick.”
“I wasn’t talking to you; I was talking to your little friend.”
And it was little. And Rick didn’t know what he was doing. I probably should have been on top, but was too tired to get up. A mere 20 seconds in, and he’s already giving me his “O” face.
I hold his hips back to slow him down, but he’s made up his mind to charge towards the finish line. At 48 seconds, he cums.
He tries to pull out, but I grab his ass. “You’re not going anywhere, mister. You still have 10 seconds.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
His cock simmers inside me as I count down. “… five… four… three… two… ONE!!!”
And so begins my New Year’s Challenge. That’s 10 dicks down, and 355 to go. May the rest of them be Jaromes and not Ricks. It’s too soon to tell if I’m really going to be able to pull this off, but I’m sure going to have fun trying.