My Big Fat Fake Wedding(119)

“Well, if this is the sort of trash that passes for dinner conversation,” the older one says as she sticks her nose far enough into the air I wonder if it’s going to be clipped by the ceiling fans, “no wonder the country’s going to hell under these Millennials!”

She storms off before Elise or I can respond, but the second lady pauses slightly and talks out of the side of her mouth. “Sweetie, you do deserve more than fine.”

With a wink, she scurries off after her friend, leaving behind a grinning Elise. “See? Even snooty old biddies know that you deserve more than meh.”

“I know. We’ve had this conversation on more than one occasion, so can we drop it?” I plead between clenched teeth before calming slightly. “I want to celebrate and catch up, not argue about my love life.”

Always needing the last word, Elise drops her voice, muttering under her breath. “What love life?”

“That’s low.”

Elise holds her hands up, and I know I’ve at least gotten a temporary reprieve. “Okay then, if we’re sticking to work, I got a new scoop that I’m running with. I’m writing a piece about a certain famous someone who got caught sending dick pics to a social media princess. Don’t ask me who because I can’t divulge that yet. But it’ll be all there in black and white by next week’s column.”

Elise is an investigative journalist, a rather fantastic one whose talents are largely being wasted on celebrity news gossip for the tabloid paper she writes for. I can’t even call it a paper, really. With the downfall of actual print news, most of her stuff ends up in cyberspace, where it’s digested, Tweeted, hashtagged, and churned out for the two-minute attention span types to gloat over for a moment before they move on to . . . well, whatever the next sound bite happens to be.

Every once in awhile, she’ll get to do something much more newsworthy, but mostly it’s fact-checking and ass-covering before the paper publishes stories celebrities would rather see disappear. I know what burns her ass even more is when she has to cover the stories where some downward-trending celebrity manufactures a scandal just to get some social media buzz going before their latest attempt at rejuvenating a career that peaked about five years ago.

This one at least sounds halfway interesting, and frankly, better than my love life, so I laugh. “Why would he send a dick pic to someone on social media? Wouldn’t he assume she’d post it? What a dumbass!”

“No, it’s usually close-ups and they’re posted anonymously,” Elise says with a snort. “Of course, she knows because she sees the user name on their direct message, but she cuts it out so that it’s posted to her page as an anonymous flash of flesh. Look.”

She pulls out her phone, clicking around to open an app, one I didn’t design but damn sure wish I had. It’s got one hell of a sweet interface, and Elise is using it to organize her web pages better than anything the normal apps have. It takes Elise only a moment to find the page she wants.

“See?” she says, showing me her phone. “People send her messages with dick pics, tit pics, whatever. If she deems them sexy enough, she posts them with little blurbs and people can comment. She also does Q-and-As with followers, shows faceless pics of herself, and gives little shows sometimes. Kinda like porn but more ‘real people’ instead of silicone-stuffed, pump-sucked, fake moan scenes.”

She scrolls through, showing me one image after another of body part close-ups. Some of them . . . well damn, I gotta say that while they might not be professionals or anything, it’s a hell of a lot hotter than anything I’m getting right now.

“Wow. That’s uhh . . . quite something. I don’t get it, but I guess lots of folks are into it. Wait.”

She stops scrolling at my near-shout, smirking. “What? See something you like?”

My mouth feels dry and my voice papery. “Go back up a couple.”

She scrolls back up and I read the blurb above a collage of pics. Little titty fuck with my new boy toy today. Look at my hungry tits and his thick cock. After this, things got a little deeper, if you know what I mean. Sorry, no pics of that, but I’ll just say that he was insatiable and I definitely had a very good morning. ;)

The pictures show a close-up of her full cleavage, a guy’s dick from above, and then a few pictures of him stroking in and out of her pressed-together breasts. I’m not afraid to say the girl’s got a nice rack that would probably have most of my co-workers drooling and the blood rushing from their brains to their dicks, but that’s not what’s causing my stomach to drop through the floor.

I know that dick.

It’s the same, thick with a little curve to the right, and I can even see a sort of donut-shaped mole high on the man’s thigh, right above the shaved area above the base of his cock.

Yes, that mole seals it.

That’s Kevin.

His cock with another woman, fucking her for social media, thinking I’d probably never even know. He has barely touched me lately, but he’s willing to do it almost publicly with some social media slut?

I realize Elise is staring at me, her previous good-natured look long gone to be replaced by an expression of concern. “Kat, are you okay? You look pale.”

I point at her phone, trying my best to keep my voice level. “That post? The one right there?”

“Oh, Titty Fuck Girl?” Elise asks. “She’s on here at least once a month with a new set of pics. Apparently, she loves her rack. I still think they’re fake. Why?”