Hers is Bigger than Mark's Story #3 in the Black Shemale "Hers is Bigger Than His" Series

By Kiera Brookes

This girl, who wasn’t really a girl, came into the library where he worked at least once a week.

He knew that she wasn’t born a female, but he thought she was one of the prettiest women he had ever seen. She was sweet, with beautiful dark brown skin. It intrigued him that she was not born a woman, but nothing about her registered in his mind as anything other than a woman.

He enjoyed their weekly conversations and he often wished she’d make a surprise visit to chat with him. He knew he could never get a girl like that in his life. He was too nerdy. Girls like that liked big tough, guys, not skinny, scrawny, socially awkward guys like himself.

He jumped at the chance to go out with her when she asked him to go to the movies with her. What harm could it do to have a pretty friend?

But that night turned out to be more than that. He learned some things about himself.

He learned that he liked dominating girls with their own big tools. He learned that his own big tool was a source of power for him. He learned that he could make her beg to be treated as his captive any time he wanted.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kiera Brookes
• Release date: Nov 20, 2017

Book preview

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Hers is Bigger Than Mark’s

By Kiera Brookes

Copyright © 2017 Kiera Brookes; www.kierabrookes.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

1.

Something about Miss Wozniak’s cleavage annoyed Mark.

Maybe, it was because there was nothing subtle about it. Maybe, it was because her breasts distracted men from her face. Maybe, it was her age. It was like looking at his mom trying to hold on to the last vestiges of her youth.

Whatever it was about Miss Wozniak’s cleavage, Mark couldn’t scan her DVD’s fast enough to get her out of his library.

Have a great day, Mrs. Wozniak, Mark said. He handed her the checkout receipt while plastering a smile on his face. A year before he’d have questioned himself for the rest of the day about the width of his smile, how many teeth he had shown, and whether his eyes had given away his fake enthusiasm.

He’d gotten so much better at playing the game of being social.

It’s Miss, Miss Wozniak batted her eyes and clapped her breasts on top of the stack of DVD’s before she slid them off the counter.

I’m sorry, he pretended to be upset with himself. Miss. I keep forgetting. He hadn’t forgotten. He had said Mrs on purpose. Old tart.

Aww, she puckered her lips like a duck bill. It’s okay, you’re still such a sweet boy.

Ah, thank you, a year before, his ability to hide his discomfort, at someone old enough to be his mother’s mother flirting with him, would have resulted in stammering.

He had gotten infinitely better at playing the game.

Miss Wozniak looked back at Mark three times before she made it to the exit door. Mark noted that she wore those fluorescent stretch pants again. And she was doing that thing with her butt, where she puts in extra effort to make it sway. He felt sorrow for the unfortunate