I guess it all started the first time the gang's card party rotated to Zack's after he met Dawn. Monday nights, we rotated the location among the four of us -- Zack, Tom, Mort, and me -- for a friendly game of either Spades or Pinochle, depending upon whose place we were using -- the host got to pick the game. We were all bachelors -- not necessarily by choice -- so it was something to do when football wasn't on and we'd screwed another weekend up 'dear hunting' without success. The occasional one-night-stand, executed on Thursday, Friday, or Saturday night, didn't interfere with this, as the girls were all gone by sometime Sunday, as a rule.

But Zack had hit the lottery or something three weeks before, so, as we trooped in with our beer and pretzels and whatever under our arms, we got to meet the new 'girlfriend,' Dawn.

Why am I putting quote marks around 'girlfriend,' you ask? Because that night, when Zack waved his hand at her and said, "Dawn, this is Greg -- Greg, this is my girlfriend, Dawn," it was the first time I'd ever hear him call her that. When Zack regaled us with his tales of their sexual antics and his incredible sexual prowess, she was, 'My slut,' or 'My bitch,' or 'My cunt,' or 'My cum-dumpster,' or any one of a dozen other appellations, none of them nice. Frankly, I expected a bottle-blonde with fourteen tattoos and at least eight piercings, straight from a trailer-park -- and since 'fat sow' had been bandied about as a descriptive, I expected big dugs hanging braless and rolls. Dawn was brunette, thick enough to be curvy without being seriously porky, had a nice, big, soft-looking rack that I'm sure sagged a bit without support but was certainly all her and nothing ugly, and seemed generally intelligent and pleasant. She had this smooth flow to her, just enough padding and not too much, in my opinion, and that little turned up finger and toe thing you see in garden gnomes. Her nose had it, too, which made her just a wee bit hog-nosed, but, yeah, I'd do her -- I decided THAT right there!

Of course, she was Zack's, so doing her was unthinkable -- but I was taken by surprise by her looks... "Um, Zack's told us so much about you," I stammered, while I held her long, soft fingers in mine and wondered whether Zack needed eyeglasses or what? I mean, her picture wasn't going to have 'swimsuit model' as a caption, but it might have 'MILF.' I would for damned sure look at her in a bikini and drool... Dazed and confused, I let go of her hand and shuffled toward the kitchen.

"Oh, no, let me take that!" she said in a soft contralto and smiled as she took my twelve-pack and swayed off to the kitchen with it. She wasn't 'working it,' either - everything just seemed to move in some cycle. She was wearing a skirt, but I thought about how that ass would look in a pair of lounge pants...

"Damn, Zack!" I erupted, "From the way you talk about her, I expected something totally different!"

Zack looked at me blankly and said, "I told you she was a porker..."

I shut my mouth and staggered on into the living room, thinking, 'Your standards sure differ from mine, buddy!'

There had never been a female present for one of our gatherings, so we started out a little hung-up, since one of the usual subjects of conversation was females and/or how we had or hadn't done the weekend before in the war of the sexes. But Zack declared, "Go for it! Dawn doesn't mind -- do you, Dawn? So, Tom, did you put the meat to anything this weekend?" Eventually, a toned-down version of the events of the previous weekend surfaced -- and it wasn't that exciting, anyway, just a series of near-misses.

Dawn waited on all four of us hand and foot that night -- and she was as sweet as she could be. Tom and I had a winning streak, and one of the house rules was that the winner had to drink a beer or a shot for every winning hand, thereby getting loose and sloppy so the losers could catch up, so by the time we were seriously close to closing out the second game, I was blotto and had to crash on Zack's couch rather than drive home. Tom was undoubtedly legally drunk, but Dawn presented a similar issue for him to what she did for me so he braved the roads. I lay on the couch, drifting, for a while -- one of those deals where you put one foot on the floor to keep the couch from tilting you onto it -- then I had to get up and take a piss.

So I'm headed up the hallway -- VERY CAREFULLY -- hands on both walls, and I hear, "Okay, Baby, you've been waiting all night, so here it comes!" I stuck my head around the door just as Zack crawls between Dawn's legs. From the way he did it, I had the distinct impression that there had been zero foreplay -- he just crawled up and poked her pussy and started to pump!

Dawn went, "Oof!" -- but almost instantly followed it with, "Yes! Yes!" and started caressing him and urging him on.

I stood there watching the whole thing; that probably sounds bad, but if it lasted thirty seconds, I would be surprised! I think it was more like twenty! Zack pumped a VERY few times while Dawn cheered him on and I watched her little toes curl, and then he went, "YAAAHHH! TAKE IT!" Then he flopped forward and went boneless while Dawn purred and cooed and told him how wonderful he was... I shook my head and made my way on down to the bathroom, where I had to sit to piss or I'd probably have fallen into the toilet and drowned. After that, I had to pass the bedroom again on the way back; Dawn was awake and saw me and I pretended that I didn't see her, even though Zack was draped over the juicy parts, snoring. I got a bottle of water from the refrigerator and re-hydrated myself, then used it to chase down three ibuprofens so I could get a jump on the hangover, and fell back on the couch.

... And I was STILL sicker than a dog Tuesday! Zack messed with me unmercifully, but Dawn brought me more pain pills and a Virgin Mary and acted like she was an ER nurse and I had come in with something terrible. I wanted to insert myself under her short robe and let her cushion my pounding head between those sweet titties so bad! Fortunately, I could only look at her with one eye at a time, so it wasn't obvious at all...

Zack kicked Dawn out before dragging me to work against my feeble protests -- and you'd have thought he was putting the dog out! "Go on, git!" he ordered, pushing her out the door. "I'll call you in a couple of days." It was pretty rude, in my humble opinion. Of course, what he did to me wasn't much better. I thought I was going to die all day at work.

The next time I saw Dawn was in the grocery store about two weeks later. We picked up each other in the soda aisle and she came right over, smiling her winning smile and said, "Hi Greg!" She ended up 'helping me shop' -- wandering up and down the aisles with me and prattling on about how wonderful Zack was and I tried to hold up my end, thinking all the while about how he talked about her like she was a collection of holes he led around on a leash. Now, I'll be honest with you -- Dawn wasn't the brightest bulb in the circuit, but she was AWFUL sweet -- it kind of just gushed out all over you, you know? She wasn't an idiot, either, but she was apparently pretty naive.

I felt like a bum. The whole thing started preying on me. Dawn was in love and Zack was using her as a cum-dumpster and calling her names behind her back and generally treating her like shit -- and she had no clue... I kept remembering that night and the look on her face while she got her joy just from being with Zack while he got his jollies and to Hell with her...

So for the next three months or so, basically the same thing went on -- meaning that Zack would come to work bragging about his sexual exploits and talking about Dawn like she was something he'd picked up at the zoo and was going to take on Jerry Springer and embarrass on national television before he dumped her, and we would go to his place once a month and she would be there, looking nice and waiting on everyone hand and foot, happy as a clam. She had a lot of fashion sense, and dressed very nicely -- not putting it out there like the slut Zack insisted she was, but wearing the kind of stuff that puts on a nice display without being gauche -- she could have gone to work in the outfits I saw her in for card night, while we would stagger in wearing holey jeans and Grateful Dead T-shirts or whatever.

I didn't stay over for the next three months -- I didn't want to be exposed to a repeat of that night. Dawn and I would run into each other about once a month in the grocery store, usually on Wednesdays, and she was always just so sweet... Zack was my friend, but I hated his guts at those times, because I had to support his sorry ass and not hit on his woman, knowing full well what a shit he was.

Mort DID take to hitting on her at parties -- and given what Zack said about her at work, I couldn't blame him, even though I knew better. One Monday in March, I pulled him aside and called him on it, "Man, that's Zack's woman..."

"He doesn't give a shit," Mort replied. "I think he wants her to hook up so he can kick her out. I'm kind of surprised that he hasn't lent her out..."

I shook my head. "Do you REALLY think she's the way he says she is? Did you ever think that she might put up with his shit because she loves him?"

"She'd have to be a fucking idiot," was Mort's response -- and he went right back to embarrassing her with his come-ons. And Zack didn't say a damned thing. I didn't press, because there is only so far you can go without the appearance of poaching, and I couldn't do that to Zack.

There came a Monday, though, when I had taken the week off from work -- and Zack encouraged me to let go and live on the wild side. "Hey, you haven't crashed at my place for months! Is old Hog-face making you nervous? I'll tie her to the bedpost -- how's that?" He cackled and Mort grinned and Tom rolled his eyes. Eventually, Zack made it a matter of principle, so I planned on it, knowing that he wanted me lit so he and Mort could win at Spades, because Tom and I made a team that they couldn't beat without alcohol-induced mistakes.

So we played -- and I soaked up a prodigious amount of alcohol, and Dawn was concerned that I'd poison myself, but Zack just laughed. Tom pulled me aside and asked what was up, and I told him, "Last time I was here, I accidentally managed to watch Super Stud fuck -- and he's a regular rabbit, man, but she puts up with it because she's hooked on him. I don't want to be awake this time, because it bothers the shit out of me how he treats her."

Tom grunted. "Yeah. She's pretty sweet and he's an asshole when it comes to her, for some reason. I'm surprised he hasn't offered somebody a piece."

"He isn't doing anything about Mort -- except maybe egging him on," I observed.

Tom shrugged. "I don't mind losing -- I just wanted to know why. That's a pretty good reason."

We didn't lose, though, despite the fact that I nearly had to be carried from the table to the couch. Dawn put sheets on it and everything, and the last thing I saw was her leaning over me, saying, "Now, Greg, if you need anything, just yell..." I remember grinning stupidly up at her and talking to her cleavage while I mumbled "Okay."

I didn't see them, but I was lying there, half-awake, thinking about getting up to piss, and I heard them. I put my watch up to my face and watched the sweep second hand -- thirty-seven seconds! That's it! Hell, I couldn't get a nut in thirty-seven seconds if I tried, and Dawn didn't, for DAMNED sure! But Zack did -- and he was asleep right after. I waited with my bladder screaming at me until he started snoring, then staggered up to piss. I wasn't as quiet as the first time, and I sneaked a look on the way back, and Dawn was lying there with Zack on top of her, playing with his hair fondly while he snored. I think she knew I was there, but she didn't look up. Something about it just infuriated me, and it took me an hour to get to sleep.

The next morning, Zack shook me roughly, saying "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty!" I opened one bloodshot eye and used it to eye Zack as he stuffed things into his laptop case. "Kick old Buffalo-Butt out the door before you lock up," he directed. "I don't want her putting down roots."

"Damn, Man!" I croaked, "How come you got to be so nasty to her? She's your woman..."

Zack gave me a look. "She's a fuck, Man. The only people who think she's my woman are her and you, apparently. I'm outta here." He headed for the door -- and when he did, he unmasked Dawn, who was standing in the kitchen door looking startled with a tray carrying a Virgin Mary and some pills for me in her hands. Zack never saw her.

The door closed and we eyed one another. Finally, she came forward and put the tray down, murmuring, "He didn't mean that -- he's just showing off."

I shook my head, saddened. "Oh, he meant it all right. You should HEAR the shit he says about you at work! That wasn't even a patch on it!" With shaking hands, I dispensed four ibuprofens and sucked them down with a bottle of water.

"Really?" Dawn looked crestfallen.

"Look, I love Zack like a brother, but he's an asshole. Tom and I have been surprised he hasn't offered to let one of us fuck you -- and you KNOW he's doing nothing to stop Mort!" I insisted. "I shouldn't be saying anything, but I'm totally disgusted. I know you love him, but..."

Dawn looked as if she was going to cry. "Is that why you've stayed away?"

I nodded, sighing. "That and the sex. Zack has been crowing for months about what a stud he is and what a slut you are and how he puts you through your paces -- but that first time, I was staggering by while you had sex and he was done before I even got past the door! You don't cum when he fucks you do you?"

"No," she replied quietly, shaking her head. "Momma says we don't, a lot of times. I just enjoy giving him pleasure because I love him..."

I grunted and something stabbed me in the temple, or I'd probably have been a little more diplomatic, "And he's using you to masturbate. He isn't making love to you -- Hell, he isn't even fucking. He'd be at least trying to get you off if he was. Last night, he lasted thirty-seven seconds -- I timed it! That isn't a fuck; he's jerking himself off using your pussy!"

She went white. "No! It isn't like that! He's just... premature!"

"I'll say! Does he ever eat you out? Finger you to orgasm? Kiss you, even?" I sucked on the straw of the Virgin Mary and that hurt my sinuses. "I'm going to stick my head under the shower." I staggered up. "Thanks for the hangover remedies. You're a sweet chick. And I mean that." I stumbled off to the bathroom.

When I came out thirty minutes later, she was gone.

They broke up, of course. Not immediately, apparently -- I'm guessing that Dawn felt Zack out and he lowered the boom on her. Friday, he came in and announced, "I put that cum-dumpster Dawn back out on the street."

Later, I drew him aside and said, "You know, she was totally in love with you."

Zack shrugged, and said, "That's her problem, not mine. She'll find some pig farmer to take her in, or get a dog or something. Want to go out tonight?"

I didn't. Knowing Zack was so totally self-absorbed, I couldn't watch him pick up some chick, knowing he would just use her like toilet paper. I stopped going out with him unless the four of us were together, and I stopped staying overnight at his place. Instead, I went out with Tom and let Zack and Mort date their 'porkers' and 'sluts' and 'trailer trash' -- and talk about them. Mort, I didn't blame much, since he wasn't going to get a chick on his own -- Mort had to get sloppy seconds, basically, so he had to operate with someone capable of dragging one down in the first place. In fact, they probably made a pretty good team, since Mort COULD fuck, and if a chick was drunk enough or desperate enough to let him in after Zack had done his rabbit thing, she might actually enjoy the interlude. I actually talked with Mort about it at one point, letting him know I'd seen Zack at work, and Mort admitted, "He's fucking worthless in the sack, but I can't catch a woman with a butterfly net, so I let him do his thing and then hope she's buzzed or too horny to stop or something."

I didn't see Dawn for probably four months -- largely because I deliberately stopped going to the grocery store on Wednesdays. When I did, she looked like Hell -- actually grubby, in a T-shirt, a hoodie, heavy sweatpants and flip-flops. Her usual smile was nowhere to be seen and she was probably thirty or forty pounds heavier than she had been. She saw me and looked away guiltily and I was embarrassed both for myself and for her, so I said nothing -- but we were going through the aisles in the opposite directions and kept meeting, so I felt that I HAD to acknowledge her. "Dawn?"

"Oh, hi, Greg." She looked like she was going to cry.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Oh, fine, fine..." She looked away and mumbled something.

"What?"

She met my gaze, a little angrily. "I said for a fat slut!"

I closed my eyes. "Look, I'm sorry. I NEVER thought of you like that and it bothered the shit out of me that Zack did. That's why when he fucked up that morning, I decided to deliver a wake-up call -- well, that and the fact that I was too hung over to have good sense..."

"You did me a favor..."

"It sure doesn't look like it!" I replied. "Where is the happy chick I used to see here?"

"Gone..." She looked away.

"Dawn, Honey, there are other fish in the sea -- and not all of them have sharp teeth. I've stopped going out with Zack -- since I saw what he did to you, I'm just sick. I can't watch him fuck over chicks like that."

"It shouldn't have been a surprise," she choked out, visibly hurt, "since I'm a fat, ugly sow with a needy pussy..."

"Fuck!" I erupted. "He said that?"

"Yes." Dawn nodded. Tears were pouring. We were getting looks from people going by us.

"Aww, Baby, that's a total lie!" I erupted. "You're hot! Hell, that was part of my problem!"

"You're just saying that! Don't tease me!" She lunged forward and hit me in the shoulder with a fist, then collapsed against me, bawling. I gathered her in and rubbed her back and cuddled her and murmured to her. Shit, she felt as good as she looked... We stood there in the middle of Aisle Six for like ten minutes while Dawn cried herself out. Finally, she stepped back.

"Thanks Greg," she sniffled, "I owe you. You didn't need that."

"Frankly, I feel better about the whole thing, now," I replied. "You can use my shoulder anytime."

"I shouldn't," she replied, smiling crookedly.

"I can't think of a reason why not," I replied. "Back when, you were Zack's and I couldn't be seen poaching, but now..."

"Oh, go on!" She actually smiled, waving at me. "You never wanted..."

"I ALWAYS wanted!" I insisted. "ALWAYS!"

She blinked. "I look like shit..."

"You're smiling again, at least."

"Greg..."

"Do you have ANY IDEA how hard it was, watching him crap on you, knowing he had no respect for you -- and wanting you? Shit..." I suddenly realized that I'd stepped over a line. I leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Be good, Baby. Go out and find somebody decent and forget about Zack -- except maybe you should keep your eyes open some." I touched her cheek. "I'm polluted just from being around him, I know, but I'll be around if you want an opinion on the next boyfriend." I grabbed my cart and hustled my ass out of there.

She found me in the parking lot as I was putting my stuff in the trunk. "Greg..."

"Baby, he's an asshole from way back, but he's still my friend. I don't think you want to be exposed to that. If I toss Zack, I have to toss Mort, at least, and maybe Tom, too," I told her, trying to put her off.

"Give me your number, anyway, so I can call you and listen to you tell me wild stories about how hot I am and maybe avoid eating another gallon of Chunky Monkey," she replied.

"Yeah, okay, I can do that." I managed to grin. I hunted down a slip of paper and scratched my number on it. "Better give me yours, so I can check on you if I hear that somebody stole all of the ice cream at the grocery store here."

She gave me hers and said quietly, "Thanks, Greg -- for everything. I hurt, but at least it didn't go on a lot longer." I nodded, grimacing, and she gathered herself and walked away -- and sweatpants looked good rolling with that ass of hers. It was just enough and not too much... I think she caught me looking.

She called a couple of days later. Recognizing the number, I said, "Should I check the news for ice cream truck robberies?"

Dawn giggled, "Oh, Greg! I just wanted to thank you for the other day."

"No problem. Did any of it soak in?"

"You could have probably talked all day, telling me about how hot I was, and I'd have blown it off," she said, seriously, "but when I looked over my shoulder in the parking lot and you were standing there, all hot-eyed and drooling -- over my ASS, for God's sake! Well, THAT was for real!"

"There's just something about that size and that shape in pants..." I let it hang while I tried to think of something to say that wasn't stupid. "You were always hot to me. You were hot in skirts, too, and you always seemed to know just how far to go to be sexy without being over the top. I remember that first night, thinking that Zack needed an eye exam."

"You were always a gentleman..."

"You don't poach your friends' women if you want to have friends," I replied. "It goes beyond rude -- it's a breach of trust."

"What if he's already dropped her in the dumpster?" Dawn asked.

"You know, I really don't know. I wouldn't want you to feel like he cast you off and I came along with a broom and swept you up..." Of course, that's what Mort was doing, regularly...

"So it's more about me than it is about him?" she asked.

"Well, yeah."

"Greg, are you being considerate, or are you not interested and trying to let me down easy?"

"Shit, Dawn, that's the kind of direct question that can get me in trouble either way!" I whined.

"Never mind, I know the answer," Dawn replied.

"You do?"

"Yeah. You don't..."

"I don't think you know!" I burst out. "It sounds to me like..."

There was a pause, and then Dawn said softly, "Like what, Greg?"

"Aww, damn it! That was sneaky!" I howled.

"Momma keeps telling me that boys are easy," Dawn replied, pleased with herself. "Such simple creatures... I guess I'm finally learning."

"Thanks, Mom!" I rolled my eyes. She couldn't see it, but I know that she could hear it in my voice.

"So as long as I can put up with Zack, we can date?" she asked.

"Yeah. I won't expose you to him, but I'll have to tell him."

"That's fine. Call me whatever night you guys aren't going out." She hung up.

That was Friday, and the four of us went out 'dear hunting' at a local club. I had to get it off my chest, and I couldn't act right until I did, so I did it early. "Zack, I'm thinking about dating Dawn."

Zack blinked. "You're taking up pig farming?"

"If you want to call it that."

"She seemed pretty busted," Zack opined. "Should be an easy piece for you."

"That's real cold, Man," I muttered, "REAL cold."

"Hey, 'us' existed only in her head, Man. I never told her she was the one."

"If you'd crapped on her to her face the way you did when she wasn't around, she'd have caught on," I noted.

"Which is why I didn't," he admitted. "Pussy is pussy, even if it is skanky. I figured I would hang onto it until the replacement showed up." He eyed me. "You know something..."

I nodded. "You remember that morning I was there, hung over? You told me to 'push old Buffalo Butt out the door,' and said you didn't want her growing roots -- then you said she was just a fuck."

He nodded. "I remember."

"She was standing behind you."

"Ah." Zack nodded. "That's what I get, then."

"So, no harm, no foul?"

"Nope." He waved negligently. "Pass her to Mort or Tom when you're done, if you want."

"I'll keep her out of your face."

"No need..."

"It might make her happier."

"I can see that."

The conversation was over. I hung in the rest of the night, but nobody caught anything and I didn't even try. The foursome thing never worked, anyway.

Saturday, I called Tom, "Want to go out?"

"You know he's crapping on you," Tom replied without preamble. "He's calling you 'pig farmer.' Mort is sucking it up."

"It'll go away, or it won't," I replied. "What do YOU think?"

"I think what he did to her was sickening. I figure you aren't planning that kind of shit."

"You'd be right," I agreed.

"What if it doesn't go away?" Tom asked.

"If it doesn't and she doesn't -- neither of which is a given -- somebody will be looking for a fourth at cards -- or maybe there will be two sets of us looking for new partners," I allowed.

"I hate to think that the game is going to be broken up like that..."

"Maybe you can talk sense into him," I sighed. "Maybe it won't be necessary. We haven't even gone out yet."

Don't bullshit me," Tom replied. "You always had a thing for her."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't rub Zack's nose in that," I noted.

"No sweat. Why don't you call her? I'm still hung over from last night."

"Okay, Man." I paused and added, "About pig farming..."

"Yeah?"

"What if Dawn has a girlfriend?"

Tom paused. "Is that a bribe?"

"Just me taking care of a friend," I replied. "Zack gives Mort sloppy seconds all the time -- but I figure another girl is really a nicer thing..."

"Yeah, me, too," Tom mused.

"I don't want to embarrass you. Was Dawn beyond spec?"

"Yeah," Tom admitted. "I wouldn't have been rude about it and she IS cute, but I like mine skinny."

"I'll bear that in mind." We hung up.