Brooke is Bored This story is inspired by a real Brooke, who was kind enough to send me pictures and tell me a bit about herself. I hope her pussy gets very wet reading this. -Abe Chapter 1 Brooke Myerson was bored. She had no classes on Friday, and on THIS particular last day of the week, most of the dorm had vacated to take advantage of the long holiday weekend. Brooke's roommate Carla had also driven back home to San Diego county. Normally, Carla was Brooke's go-to resource for when times were slow. ...or when she was horny. ...or both. Lying on her bed in the small dorm room, Brooke closed her eyes and envisioned Carla's pale, alabaster skin. The pale pink of her crispy nipples on top of her small, but perfectly shaped breasts. She remembered holding Carla's head, running her fingers through her short brunette hair, as her lips sucked and teased Brooke's clitoris to an incredible orgasm. She could see the stark contrast of Carla's white skin against Brooke's chocolate thighs, as their intertwined legs ground together. Wet, hot, clits blazing, she almost felt the sucking pleasure of her dark brown nipples between Carla's pink lips, her red tongue, her grazing white teeth. Growing up as a pastor's daughter, she had never dreamed that sex - that sex with a woman - would be so important to her. In the year and a half she'd been going to school, she had rapidly progressed from the repressed daughter of Southern Baptist minister into a worldly and sensual creature to whom school was secondary to pleasure. Of course her parents knew none of this. They had no idea that their darling girl - their only daughter - loved both cock and pussy, and that there was not a day in which she didn't cum at least several times. The memory of her most recent adventures with Carla took her hand inside her panties before she knew what she was doing. "GOD, this weekend was going to be boring," she sighed to herself, just before her impending orgasm erased all conscious thought. Fred Kinsey was most assuredly NOT bored. Fred was pretty much invisible around the state college where he and Brooke and Carla and about 30,000 other college students attempted to obtain an education. Fred was invisible by design. Fred loved to watch. He was watching now, as Brooke, who pushed up the t-shirt covering those luscious breasts with one hand, while the other was a blur inside her panties. He was from the same small town that Brook Myerson was from - in her grade even, but so far, she hadn't seen him. She had looked right at him any number of times, but she had not recognized him as the anonymous nerd from high school - he was just another anonymous nerd around campus. Click - Click - his expensive digital camera had a perfect view across the quad and down into her first floor window. He couldn't believe he was this lucky. These wouldn't be as good as the OTHER pictures he had taken of Brooke - and Carla - but they were good. Because of the tripod his camera was mounted on, he could fiddle open his pants and free his stiff cock from the confines of his shorts. Fred, despite being somewhat on the scrawny side, would surprise many people if they knew the size of the dragon he kept hidden in his ubiquitous baggy cargo shorts. Easily eight inches in length and tree-like in girth, it would indeed have surprised many people. However, because Fred was as introverted as he was hung, no one had ever seen his cock, at least no woman. He'd had some interest shown by two boys - football players who, rumors seeming to be accurate, liked cock as much as pussy - in high school, when they cornered him in the shower after gym class. He'd managed to be left alone for his first three years in High School, and now, 18 with only a couple months left, his meekness wasn't enough to keep the two boys from showing interest in an unwelcome way. He remembered how humiliating it had been, as the two senior boys, looking to see that they weren't being watched, moved closer to him, one on each side. Their mature, muscular bodies, contrasted sharply with his. Both were older than him, and far more mature - the only comparative features were their tumescent cocks, thickening as they pressed closer to him. "Hank, check out the package on Squidbert here," at least no one called him THAT anymore. Hank, the shorter and more muscular of the two stepped closer as he soaped his body down, using the opportunity to stroke his cock a couple times, so that the spongy cockhead began to press against Fred's side. "Tommy, hard to believe isn't it, that someone this scrawny could have dick that big," Hank said, moving closer, so that his cock grazed across Fred's stomach. Tommy wasn't to miss out, and, his own thin, long cock poking straight out, reached out his hand to grasp Fred's member. Fred could remember the humiliation of it - and the excitement. He could remember how hard he became in Tommy's hands, and how quickly he was aroused. He knew he wasn't gay - he hadn't thought of himself as Bisexual, though now, thinking back, maybe that's what he was. The two boys had moved closer still and forced him to put a hand on each of their cocks. Hank's muscular arm kept him from moving, as Tommy, looking one more time to make sure no one was there, knelt in front of Hank and sucked his long, hard, thick cock into his mouth. It was all still a blur - like a dream, really - the hot wetness of Tommy's mouth, Hank's roaming hand reaching between his cheeks to impale his ass, coming - hard. Just after having his first orgasm with ANYONE other than himself, noises from the locker room caused the other two to jump back under the stalls. Fred never took a shower in the gym again. His unwillingness to shower caused Tommy and Hank to begin calling him "Stinkbert" instead, but at least they left him alone. Now, though, his thoughts returned to the coffee-colored goddess who lay on her bed across the courtyard. He wanted her more than anything he could think of. Looking at the small camera display, he dropped his shorts to the floor and began to stroke his cock, in time the motions of her hand. He could imagine kneeling astride her chest, the feel of those fat, glorious tits wrapped around his cock, as her mouth eagerly opened to receive the plunging head of his cock. The burning in his thighs began and he began to spew his cum, splattering on the wall, even as high as the window, the milky globs slowly beginning to slide down the glass. He had to find a way to have her. She lay awhile in bed after cumming. Eventually, her general restlessness returned and she got up, stripping off her clothes, thinking to herself that a long shower might inspire her. Maybe she would come up with an idea for the evening. She was between boyfriends at the moment (something the hot sex with Carla may have influenced), so she had no one to call, no particular place to go. Pulling on the old terrycloth robe she'd had since grade school, she walked down the hall of her almost empty dorm room. The robe that was long when she was 8, now, it barely covered the still-damp lips of her pussy. A bend at the waist in any direction would show something society normally demanded be covered. Before the door was even shut, she had flipped open the robe and tossed it onto a hook. Fred peered through the hallway door window and watched as Brooke entered the bathroom. It was now or never. Later he wondered where he'd finally found the inspiration to act, rather than just watch, but in the moment, he felt compelled to move quietly down the hall until he stood outside the communal women's bathroom door. He heard her start the shower and looked nervously up and down the hallway, but nothing stirred. In his hand he held several printouts. He knew who Brooke's parents were - he'd gone so far as to attend a couple services during the summer. He found a fellow computer enthusiast who worked in the dorm administration office, and worked to ensure that his room was A) a single room and B) directly opposite and one floor above the window into Brooke's room. Breathing deep, garnering all the strength he could muster - he was so nervous his cock had softened completely - he opened the door to the women' bath. It was a mirror image of the men's bathroom, with the shower room to the left, rather than the right. He could hear her humming some tune to herself. Carefully, he shut the door soundlessly behind him and stepped over to the shower room entrance. Peeking around the corner, he saw her standing there, head back with her eyes closed as she let the water course through her thick, black hair, hanging halfway down her back. He could see the smooth line of her jaw, those full lips, with a hint of the brilliant teeth behind them. Her hands were behind her back as she rocked from side to side under the water, her tits swaying back and forth invitingly. She was completely shaved, and he could see her pussy lips, see the water flow down between them and down her deliciously brown thighs. All of his life he'd fantasize about the woman that might relieve him of his hated virginity. He had driven up and down the downtown streets, but the threat of disease or violence - his fear - kept him from hiring any of the women he saw there. Brooke would be the one. He knew it. Carefully, he backed away, and put the photos he held into the terry cloth robe hanging outside. He also left the note. If you don't meet my demands, your family and everyone in your congregation will receive copies of these pictures. Call this number. He'd written his cell number at the bottom. As quietly as he'd come, he backed out of the room, quickly ensuring no one had seen him enter. Unlike when he entered the room, his cock was as hard as an iron rod. ...to be continued...