Dave couldn't keep his eyes off the blonde in the tennis dress. She sat in the second row and she was lovely in a fresh, almost fragile way. Her face was delicately carved and framed by aristocratically waving golden hair. It was hard as hell to keep plugging at a lecture on the culture of ancient Egypt when his eyes kept focusing on that face--and even more difficult when he let his eyes drift casually across the body so charmingly revealed in her skimpy summery outfit.
The top buttoned modestly, all the way to the neck, but the fabric was white and thin and made no effort at all to conceal the beautiful curves of the girl's small, high-set tits, leaving it abundantly clear to the observer that the nipples crowning those tits were pink and perky, and that the support of a bra was something totally unnecessary to show her at her best. And the hem of the skirt fought a losing battle with a pair of pink bikini panties, scandalously skimpy and really deserving of the display they were getting. Every time she moved so languidly as she took her notes, crossing and uncrossing her legs, the bottom of her short skirt rose, and Dave was becoming very well acquainted with those tiny little panties.
He wished he knew their wearer as well, but alas--such was not the case. This was freshman history, World Civilization 110, and it numbered at least eighty students. To make matters worse, Dave had three more classes just like this one. He was in his first year of teaching at State University--indeed, this was his first semester--and all the faces before him tended to blur together into one heterogeneous mass. He could recall individuals who had done well or poorly in the first exam, just completed, but he couldn't tie one of those names to a specific face.
Not least among the problems Dave had to face was his total inexperience with the technique of delivering a professional, competent lecture while trying to look up the dress of a pretty student. Some day when he had nothing better to do he would ask one of the older professors for pointers on that. Some day. Not now.
The bell rang, punctuating his lecture In mid-sentence. He finished his point, shouting above the clamor of students gathering up their possessions and ready to desert him, then turned and, first one out the door, started down the hail at a brisk clip. He had office hours now, in case anyone wanted to talk to him.
Dave closed the door of his office behind him, sat down at his desk, shuffled aside the litter of books that covered it, and lit a cigarette. Into the space he had cleared he placed the new American Historical Review, opening it to skim over the book reviews. There was a knock at his door, and he said "Come in," without turning.
"Professor Shearing," said a voice behind him.
"It's Mister Shearing," Dave corrected, beginning to turn. "I'm not a professor yet." And his eyes lit upon a pair of slim shapely feet in open sandals, drifted up subtly tanned thighs and calves to the high-rising hem of a short white tennis dress, and sped upward to make contact with the eyes of the lovely blonde from the class just dismissed.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said with a fetching smile, "but my name is Becky Ryan, and I'm in your 1:30 class, and I wanted to ask you--"
"Of course," he interrupted, "Miss Ryan." He flashed an instant memory of a well-done exam paper signed "Ryan, Rebecca M." and life fell pleasantly into place. No longer was this girl the knockout piece in the second row. She was Miss Ryan, and consequently a person who could be categorized and recognized. "You had an excellent exam," he added, thinking, God, not only is she beautiful--she's also smart.
"Thank you," she said. "I wanted to ask you about your lecture today." She shifted from one foot to another, tennis racket under one arm, and Dave thought himself slowly being hypnotized as he studied the alternating positions of her breasts, pink-splotched and definite under the translucent top of her dress.
He weighed and dismissed the odds in favor of his making a successful grab for those fits right now. "Something you didn't understand?" he said, after what ho realized instantly was a very long pause.
"Oh, no," she replied. "Nothing like that. Your lectures are very clear and understandable. I just wondered where I might find out some more about ancient Egypt. You know, about how the people lived? Maybe you could tell me the names of some books and I could hunt them up in the library."
"I'll go you one better than that," Dave smiled. He turned round in his chair and began to shuffle through the piled up books and papers on his deck. Three or four books were selected and he laid them out before him. There was a tiny tapping behind his back and sudden intense body heat glowed near him. And he looked through the books, flipping pages, the heat increased, and his shoulder felt the presence of Miss Ryan, leaning over it to look at the books with him. Unfettered tit points touched his back and loose strands of her golden hair teased his cheek.
Dave cleared his throat uneasily. The fight-muscled lithe perfection of her slim body, so tantalizingly near him, was making his heart beat faster and his face turn just a little red, embarrassed at the ideas that suddenly coursed through his brain. "These are what you want, I think," he stammered, acutely aware of the gentle press of her nipples against him.
She reached across his shoulder to take the books, and her tits lay heavily on him for just a second. He felt their young vibrant warmth, wanted to take them in his hands, squeeze their pliant little mounds, taste the salty freshness of their pink tips. Then the contact broke and he knew she had put the books under her arm. The sound of her shoes advised him further that she was on her way out.
"Thank you very much, Mr. Shearing," she said softly. "I'll take very good care of your books and get them back to you as soon as I can." Her hand was on the door knob.
"Ah," he began, not wanting to part with her but unsure as to how he could keep her with him. "Is that the new style in classroom dress, by the way?"
"Oh!" she smiled. "I'm really sorry. See, I have this date to play tennis and I don't want to be late. So I wore it to class. Do you think I shouldn't have?"
Of course not, he wanted to tell her. If you hadn't, I might never have seen those little strands of cunt hair peeking out your panty legs, might never have known you were nearly as blonde on bottom as on top. That I wouldn't have missed for the world! "It's really very becoming," he smiled, and the reassured grin she gave him brightened the whole day for Dave. Then she was gone, leaving him with the memory of the passing touch of her fine tits. Somehow, Dave sighed, the American Historical Review couldn't begin to compete with Becky Ryan's A-OK body.
*
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*
*
Dave was just cooking supper the next evening when the doorbell rang. He turned down the heat on his electric wok and scuttered through the kitchen, into the living room, to the door. "Yes," he said, flinging it open.
"HI," Becky said, sparking clean and pretty enough to eat, in a nearly transparent body shirt that revealed her pale blue bra in stunning outline. Her hips and crotch were covered by a pair of hot pants whose slick glossy stretch flattered, even more than nature had already done, the slim shapeliness of her. Long legs flashed bare and shining above her sneakered feet. "Oh," she went on, noting the preoccupied look on Dave's face as he drank her in. "Did I interrupt something?"
"No, not at all," he assured her. Remembering his manners he invited her inside. Vaguely, dreamily, he thought there had to be a school regulation against young luscious freshman girls' being Inside faculty members' living quarters without adequate chaperonage, but even if there were, he didn't give a damn!
"I didn't do anything wrong by coming over to your apartment, did I?" she asked very ingenuously, taking a chair and crossing one smooth shapely leg over another. "I only wanted to return your books, so I looked up your address in the school directory and came over."
"Give up on Egypt already?" he joked.
"Oh, no!" she said earnestly, leaning forward. "I read them both last night. They were just fascinating. I think ancient Egypt was such a lovely civilization."
He nodded with a smile. "It's one of my favorite periods, too." The aroma of beef and vegetables drifted out of the kitchen and sprang Dave back to reality. "Say," he went on, "I was just fixing some supper. Care to join me?"
She frowned slightly and he thought she was going to say no. "Well," she began, "I really--of course, I am kinda hungry," and a smile transformed her frown into purest natural beauty. "If you really want me to--"
"It's Chinese," he warned her. "One of my vices. Put me near a wok and some bean sprouts and a couple of water chestnuts, and I go wild. But nobody's ever gotten ptomaine from my Cantonese cooking yet."
And in a few minutes both of them were at his kitchen table, attacking beef and vegetables with chopsticks, sipping at cups of black tea. Afterwards Becky insisted on doing the dishes and Dave felt it was only fair for him to dry. When the cleaned utensils had been stacked away in the cupboard, the young instructor and his favorite student made their way back into the living room, where Dave prepared his second specialty of the house, what he claimed was the finest martini known to man. Becky sipped appreciatively at hers and they chatted awhile.
She accepted a second drink, then excused herself to go to the bathroom. Dave finished his drink while she was gone, and found himself wondering exactly what the hell had brought her over here tonight. After all, tomorrow was her class day with him, and she could have returned his books just as easily then. Did she have some ulterior motive?
He had just convinced himself that her visit was ordained by God himself as a reward to Dave for a life of selfless devotion to the needs of others when the bathroom door opened and Becky came to him.
His heart jumped a mile out of his body when he saw her. She stepped softly as a cat, feline indeed in her grace and slinky good looks, and she was lithe and naked to his eyes. Her only garment was a band of cloth about her hips--that, and a wig of long straight black hair that crowned her head, concealing her own natural golden locks. The jet of her newly donned tresses was in charming contrast to the now fully revealed golden redness of her pubic thatch, and Dave couldn't take his eyes from her as she strode across the room toward him.
"My God," he whispered, unable to look away from her breasts, totally captivated by the gentle rise and fall of the pink nips as she moved to him. There was not an ounce of flab on her perfectly constructed body, and her tall figure seen nude was something out of a wet dream. Five feet seven inches of classic beauty, with the figure of a ballerina or a haute couture model. He blinked again and again, unable to believe.
She knelt at his feet, her head touching his trembling knees. "I got the idea from your books on ancient Egypt," she smiled up at him. "At the court of the Pharaohs the serving maids dressed just like This." Her hand touched lightly the band around her waist. It rode along her lower belly, touched hesitantly the very top of her golden beaver, and covered only the very pinnacle of her anal cleavage. "I made this myself, just this morning. It isn't exactly like the ones the Egyptian girls wore, but it's pretty close."
"I love it," he said slowly. "I love the hell out of it."
Becky stood up, her firm young breasts wobbling not at all. "Would you like another drink?" she asked. "A servant girl is supposed to serve."
He couldn't speak. With a smile she walked to the bar and picked up the pitcher of martinis he had fixed. Holding it directly in front of her high young mounds she stepped slowly toward him. Dave held up his glass to her, but she spurned it.
"Don't you want to test the drink before you commit yourself to it?" she teased, and instantly she lowered the pitcher slightly and leaned forward to let one pink tit dip into the colorless liquid. Drops of wetness clung to the point of her breast.
Dave gulped once as she came nearer and nearer him, then her hand had placed itself on the undercurve of that tempting young tit and the point of it was being guided into his mouth. He opened his lips to take it in, and he could taste the stimulating flavor of his special martini recipe, but at the same time he was overwhelmingly aware of the unique woman tang that was Becky's own contribution. His mouth fastened like a leech upon the breast that was offered him, and he sucked it dry. Long after he had absorbed every droplet of martini, he was still nursing at her little breast, sucking the nipple to stiff rubbery extension, smacking and slurping her creamy girl flesh.
The breast began to slide from his wet lips and he let it go regretfully. She stood back a little, just beyond his immediate grasp but not so far that he couldn't have seized her at once if he so wished. "How was that, Master?" she asked.
"Delicious," he chortled.
"Do you wish a drink, then?"
"Drink?" he mugged. "Oh. The drink was just fine, too. But what I want--" and he rose, his arms reaching for her. She smiled and he knew that all systems were "go."
Becky melted in his arms as soon as he had touched her, and her body sank against his with the consistency of melted butter. She flowed round him as they stood embracing, kissing, feeling. His hands cupped the cheeks of her ass, reveled in the perky springy feel of her, and pulled her closer, ever closer against him as he drank honey from her lips. Bare fits ground against his chest, and he could sense the hot anticipation of them even through the thin cloth of his shirt. Her long legs were wrapped sinuously round his own, pressing her cunt against him even tighter, tighter. And then her hands dove between them, fingers undoing his buttons. Without removing his lips from hers he arched his back to allow her room, and she soon had him unfastened. The shirt flew back, came off, fell to the floor unheeded. And then with regret they un-clasped for the moment while both applied themselves to the task of completing his undress.
Becky dropped to the floor and hurried to remove his shoes and socks while Dave unbuckled his belt and let his trousers slip. Before he could remove his shorts, she had jerked herself upward and laid her own strong slim fingers in the waistband of his undergarment. Scratching him ever so gently with her sharp nails she slid the shorts down his hips, down his legs, and off his feet, one at a time. Her head lay cuddled against the stiffness of his now fully risen cock, her chin just touching the eager sack of balls hanging from his crotch.
Her hand encircled his prick lovingly. She slid her fist up and down its length, smooth fingers rubbing delicately the tender flesh of his circumcised head. "So nice," she breathed, her warm exhalation curling Dave's pubic hair as it brushed across. He felt as if two inches had been added to his eight merely from her touch.
She held his cock in hand for a long moment, looking at it as though she had never seen one before. Her hand slowly moved along its length once more, then she bent it toward her face and aimed the slotted head toward her mouth. A pale violet tongue flicked from between her lips, darting toward Dave's penis. Contact was made. A shudder of delicious excitement ran through Dave as another and yet another tongue sortie brushed him. Her head moved nearer his organ, and she ran her tongue round the purple rim of his sizable corolla.
A droplet of colorless liquid formed in the slot of his cockpoint, oozing its way from the deepest areas of his excitation. Becky drew back a second, looked longingly at the telltale harbinger of a sperm cocktail for her, then licked it off clean as a frog taking a careless fly. Dave groaned meaningfully as her tongue brushed the ultrasensitive outlet of his peter, and he found himself trembling in the knees.
Becky's arm rested against his knee and she too felt the sudden jerkiness there. She pushed him back, step by step, and he found himself near enough the sofa to sit down once more. Gratefully be sank onto the soft cushioned seat, his cock pointing to the sky. Becky had come with him, and as he sat, she raised herself in compensation, hands still fondling the shaft of his maleness.
Dave threw his head back and gurgled in joy as Becky's warm cavern of a mouth sank over his aching penis. Her lips immediately enclosed him like a glove and her head began to rise and fall in excruciatingly slow cocksucking. Slowly-slowly--slowly--her mouth went up and down on his prick, her lips tightening about him, teeth covered by drawn-back lips but tantalizingly tangible all the time.
He leaned forward to take her nipples between his fingers as she ate him, and he rolled her now thrustingly stiff little points between his fingers until he could feel her tits engorge and harden. He cupped her tits in his palms, thanking whatever creative forces there were that she had been designed with boobs just the right size to hold in his hands. Not a wasted bit of flesh about her.
Dave's hands left her tits, wandered round her back, played up and down, fingers stroking her backbone as her head bobbed in his lap. The slurpy wetness of her mouth was quiveringly erotic and he knew that when he shot his load this evening it would be a load well worth shooting. His balls were working overtime to brew up a come stew appropriately juicy for the lovely freshman girl.
His hands took hold of her head, stroked her hair, marveled at its silky fineness, teased her ears, snaked along her neck. Could a girl purr while sucking cock? She seemed to be purring now, just like the kind of cat she reminded him of, with her slinky tigress looks. And to carry the cat analogy one step further, he knew that before long he had to get his hooks on her lovely pussy!
Becky looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with her arousal, her lips wet, saliva dripping daintily from the corner of her mouth.
"Like that, Master?" she teased, her fingers tight around the base of his cock, one palm cupping his balls.
"Bet your sweet ass," he panted, "but it's your turn now."
She let go his genitals and stood up, her arms outspread, emphasizing the vulnerable nudity of her body. "Your wish is my command," she said, and she bowed her head slightly, the black strands of wig falling to cover her perky nipples. "I'm only your slave girl of the Nile."
Dave jumped from the chair, his hands reaching for her, his cock aching for her. He seized her in his arms, swept her up, threw her over a shoulder and, walking lopsided with his burden, bore her into his bedroom.
Becky fell gently to the surface of the bed, stirring herself as soon as she landed to lay it bare to the bottom sheet. As soon as the bedspread and quilt were out of the way Dave was with her, his hands renewing their acquaintance with her provocative body, his mouth greeting hers like old school friends, remet after many years. She lay back on the bed, her head resting atop his arm, her mouth on his, her tit in his other hand, her body writhing and alternately forcing itself against Dave, then pulling itself away.
Dave's hand slid down her, stroked her tummy, fingered her navel, then glided like a soaring jetliner into the auburn hair of her delta. He teased the hair between his fingertips, pulled it until be sensed her pained reaction, then cupped the whole of her crotch in his exploring hand. She moistened for him, pushing her cunt into his palm, opening her legs to spread the slice of her femininity that he might know it fully.
Her pussy winked open and his gingerly touching fingers slipped inside her labia majora. The whole pink slash of her was his for the taking now, and a solitary finger probed the trembling entrance of her female tunnel. His thumb rubbed round and round but did not yet touch Becky's clitoris as it extended itself like an incredibly tiny penis. Delicious wetness surrounded his probing members and he could smell so aromatically the odor of her arousal. It made him want to eat her up, right on the spot.
And so he decided to do. Breaking his kissing contact with her mouth, Dave slid down her adorable frontage, pausing to pay homage with his lips to the areas of her body he had so recently known in a tactile sense, drifting his way into her red-gold beaver, tugging at the hairs with his pulling teeth. Her pussy was his for the snacking now, and so he spread her legs wider, arched them over his shoulders, and pressed his face upon her gash as if he were a starving man approaching the biggest steak in Christendom.
Becky moaned aloud as Dave's mouth made its first contact with her pussy, as it caught between its lips the outer flanges of her trembling cunt, sucked them together. She squirmed and forced herself against his mouth, and then his fingers slid also into her slit, spreading open her gash and opening a path for Dave to approach her heart of femininity.
The oyster-slick of her vulva responded throbbingly as he sucked and licked his way along it, around it, coming at last to the nervous clitty button of her. Dave's tongue touched it tentatively. Raw fires exploded inside her as contact was made, and a fragrant warm wetness bathed his chin. He sucked the flesh round her love bump, feeling once more the lubrication of her cunt, feeling the hands of the sweet young girl seizing his hair, pulling at it, forcing his head to do its work, the work it would never abandon under any circumstances.
He slicked his way back down her slot, nuzzling and muzzling her, all the way to her anal opening. His tongue dabbed at her asshole, making her squirm with renewed enthusiasm. And then he insinuated his lingual probe between the inner lips that covered her deepest mysteries, and his daring was rewarded with bliss beyond his wildest dreams.
Becky's cunt was tight and moist and hot, and as he thrust his tongue in her shaft, as deep as he could force it without pulling it from himself by the roots, the sensitive walls of her pussy canal lightened and re-tightened upon him, squeezing his tongue as if in a vise. God, he thought, what an educated pussy! Fucking her would be like tucking a willing virgin, she was so tight and delicious! And he knew that she could crack his nuts but good with that wild squeezing action of hers. Christ, he could hardly wait to get his eight inches in her and coat her stomach with his come!
"Please," she was almost sobbing, "fuck me now! I can't stand it any longer!"
But Dave wasn't ready to fuck her yet. Before he stuck her with his cock, she would be coming so hard she wouldn't stop for a week. Then and only then would she get his peter!
His tongue laved in and out of her fiery tunnel, drinking her juices along its length, sharing them with his taste-conscious mouth. His taste buds analyzed her sweet pussy nectar and found it absolutely delicious. Nectar of the gods? Mead of the honeybees? No, this was the very manna from heaven that Moses and the Children of Israel had lived upon during their forty years in the desert. Dave knew it well enough, and he was torn between a desire to share this earthshaking discovery with the world at large and his wish to keep it all, all for himself.
Becky was so wet-cunted now that shoving it to her would be like sticking a peter inside a box of melted ice cream. But much more fun, he reminded himself. Regretfully he pulled himself from his sucking. Bigger things were at hand.
She lay on her back, eyes closed, hands fondling her pretty young tits, legs thrown far apart. Her boobs were heaving up and down like stormy seas and Dave knew he could hear her heart beating with excitement. Then be realized suddenly that it must be his own heart, pounding like a jackhammer in his chest, that he could hear. So he was excited too? So what? So he was gonna fuck the living hell out of this delightfully creamy young girl, that's what!
And he threw himself upon her then, his mouth dislodging one of her hands to seize a tit for its own use, and his hands took hold of his aching, come-filled penis, guided it to the mouth of her yawning hole, and shoved it home for auld lang syne. He slid into her to the hilt, his belly banging against hers, and she jerked at the contact. Even lubricated with the flow to which he had fingered and sucked her, she was still a tight piece of cunt, nearly tight as a young virgin, and he knew almost instinctively that she hadn't been fucking for a very long time. Not long enough to splay her hole out of shape, at least. And he was grateful for that, grateful to her, grateful to whoever had been there before him but had been thoughtful enough to leave plenty of nice snatch for the next guy.
Dave's cock was snaking in and out of Becky like an oil drilling rig, banging his belly against her pubic bush on downstrokes, taking him nearly all the way out on his backpulls. But not all the way out. He had plenty of cock and it was no trouble to leave plenty of that cock in her when he was setting his balls up for another hammer at the loveliest anvil he had ever beaten on.
Becky got her lithe and lissome legs round him, crossing ankles on the male padding of his ass, her heels playing a fandango on his flesh as he flicked in and out, ever in and out. She was gasping like a drowning woman, her head back, eyes clamped tight, mouth open and up, and the rasping sounds that creaked from her throat signified to Dave's experienced ear that she was already coming for dear life. The juices that drenched his jerking peter were only added confirmation, and he knew that soon her cunt fluids would be mingled with even hotter gushes of creamy liquor distilled in the refinery of his bouncing balls.
A long shrill cry broke out of Becky's open, trembling mouth, a cry that signified her surrender to the feelings that were coursing through her body, feelings that she could not have resisted even had she wanted to, and she thrust herself against Dave all the harder, seeking to imbed as much of his shafting cock as she could, while her nerve ends were all flowing directly to her come bump.
Dave took the hint, and he shoved himself back against her, putting everything in her but his balls, touching depths of this girl's body that he had never known in a woman before. He was positive he could feel his prick jabbing against her very womb, and all the more positive when she broke into a hot and cold sweat each time he stuck his penetrating cock up her hot canal.
And then it was too late to worry about whether or not he could give her even more length, for his balls sent word throughout his body that they could not dam up the flood of come that raged there, and the slot in his cock-head burst open, deep inside Becky's clutching cent, and from it there spilled a river of hot swirling cream that shot in, in, in, Becky's twat. Her cuntmouth tightened round the squirting length of his prick, squeezing it as it shot, forcing it to dislodge come that Dave hadn't even known he possessed.
He drowned her internally, till he was sure it must soon roll in torrents out her mouth, her nose, her ears, her sweat glands. He couldn't stop gushing and jerking, and shaking and twisting, and each movement of his prick sent a fresh splattering load of juice into Becky.
She took it like a lady, her pussy still grabbing at his dick, forcing it to expel every drop it could summon, and even when he was dry, when his cock was only shaking inside her, when he had no come left to give her, she kept on forcing more, more, more, fastening like a steel trap on the rigid length of his prick, teasing it, tormenting it, demanding that it give her what neither God nor man could provide at that moment.
Come was everywhere inside her. Dave's still jacking peter rode on a sea of come that backed its way down her love tunnel and swirled out through the tightness of her opening, wetted his pubic hair, wetted hers, rolled hot and sticky down her love slot into the crack of her ass. When he could at last pull his prick from her, when her muscle tightening had dwindled into spasmodic jerking of labia minora, the come he had left behind him, the come that had no where to go, spilled out of her, leaving her red-blonde cunt hair spotted in creamy gobs of love drops.
"Jesus," Dave whispered, drained emotionally as well as physically. He rolled off Becky and lay at her side, too weak even to put his fingers atop one of her still-tempting titties. His eyes closed and consciousness left him for a while as nature reasserted its ultimate control over his body and decreed that he must rest now, whether he really wanted to or not.
*
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*
When he opened his eyes again, Becky was still lying beside him, a smile on her face that reminded him of the proverbial cat in the cream barrel. Her hand slid across his chest, tangled in his man-hair, pinched at one of his tiny nipples.
"That was okay," she said. "Did you like it?"
"Bet your ass," he smiled. "Bet your ass."
He scooted across the bed and fished a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the drawer in the nightstand. He put two weeds in his mouth, lit them both, then turned to her, handing her a smoke as he exhaled.
"Oh, no thank you," she said, smiling shyly at the glowing cigarette he extended. "I don't smoke."
So much for that old myth, he thought embarrassedly, stubbing out the superfluous Kool in the ashtray. He took a few more puffs of his, then it too died in the cigarettes' last resting place, and he rolled back onto the bed to lie beside her.
Becky cuddled close to him, her fingers once more in his chest hair. Dave wanted to fuck her again, right now--this time, he thought gaily, in the ass. He had a pretty good idea she was still cherry in her bottom hole, but he had another flash of inspiration that told him she would love it once she'd felt a cock there. And of course, they hadn't tried a 69 yet, spilling juices of love in one another's mouths instead of genitals. But there was something else that was on his mind, too.
"Tell me, Becky," he began, shifting onto his side that he might study her face. "What was the idea of this, anyway?"
She stared in open-eyed surprise. The black wig had slipped during their hot fucking and half her natural golden crown of hair lay exposed. "I don't understand you," she said.
"You," he said. "Coming over here tonight--letting me fuck you. What do you expect to get out of it, anyway?"
"I already got it," she replied happily. "I got a real nice screwing."
"Shit,,' he observed. "You were trying to brownie me up for a grade, weren't you?"
"No!" she shouted. "Nothing like that at all." She looked back into his searching eyes. Unconscious that she was doing it, she folded her arms across her bared breasts, brought her legs together, shutting off the come-drenched lips of her twat.
"Miss Ryan," he said wearily, "this is the oldest story in the history of college education. Beautiful girl wants grade. Beautiful girl balls teacher. Beautiful girl gets grade. Was that why you were interested in ancient Egypt so suddenly?" He looked down her outraged glare. "You can be honest," he added. "After all, you know, you were on the road to an A already. All you had to do was keep up the work you'd done on the first exam. So really, wasn't this a waste of time on your part?"
Becky's throat muscles tightened and she leaped off the bed. As she bent her head to stare at him in rage her neck veins stood out in ghastly prominence.
"You arrogant bastard," she hissed. "I knew I was doing all right in your fucking class. I knew I could get an A in it without much trouble. And I don't have to fuck for grades, either. I earn them. In class, not in bed! The only reason I came over here tonight was because I thought you were really a sexy guy and could lay a good time on me. But the only thing sexy about you is your cock! In your heart you're just a stupid fucking pig!" And she spun round, the wig falling off completely as she did, but Becky did not even bother to stoop and retrieve it. She stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Dave lay on the bed stunned, listening to her defiant footsteps as she tromped into the bathroom and closed the door hard.
He jumped off the bed to follow her. Perhaps he had misjudged her motives after all. Perhaps she had only come over because she wanted to fuck him. But what else should he have thought? Girl fucks teacher and girl gets grade. Wasn't it as simple as that.
And realization came to him. He was a stupid tucking pig, just like she had told him. A pig of the male chauvinist variety, he thought bitterly. This was the age of Aquarius, for God's sake! The times they are a-changin'. And part of the change was in the area of women's roles in society. No longer did women intend to let men do all the choosing, all the seducing. They were liberated today, and they insisted upon their right to use their bodies for their own purposes.
Good deal, Shearing, he told himself. You meet your first really liberated woman and what do you do? You fuck yourself in the ass. He raced out of the bedroom, into the living room, intending to plead for her forgiveness.
Becky was in the living room standing by the door. She had poured the remainder of his martini mix onto the couch where it lay wet and shining, and she was fully dressed once more.
"Please," he called to her, "I want to apologize."
"Go fuck yourself," she replied bitterly and she was gone.
CHAPTER TWO
"You've just been fucked. I can tell by the way your ass is swinging," teased Becky's roommate Marjie as the angry blonde freshman entered their dorm apartment.
"Shut up," Becky scowled, ripping at the buttons of her body shirt. She peeled it off and threw it onto her bed, then tossed her bra beside it. The pink points of her round tits were glaring as she kicked off her shoes and then stepped out of her hot pants. Clad only in her creamy skin, she lay down on her belly, plump ass presenting a delectable target as she pouted.
"What's wrong, Beck?" Marjie asked, sharing bet roomie's upset but ignorant of its cause.
"Nothing is wrong," Becky replied angrily. "Absolutely nothing." She rolled around and lay on her back, arms folded beneath her tits. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling above her but they saw nothing in particular.
Marjie had been studying but she set aside her books and came to Becky's side. She sat down on the sparse extent of bed remaining. The crinkly fabric of her nightie tickled Becky's flesh, making the blonde girl smile in spite of herself.
"Something has gotten stuck in your cute little ass," Marjie observed. "Would you feel better if you told me about it?"
Becky shook her head. She didn't want to talk, even to Marjie, with whom she felt she could share everything. Not this, though. Not now, anyway.
Marjie shrugged. Her hand nestled lightly on Becky's tummy, a finger touching the puckered hole of the blonde girl's navel. "If you want to tell me," she smiled, "just whistle. I'm in the next bed."
Becky was pissed, to say the least. This had to be the most humiliating experience of her life--except, perhaps, for the time when she had come up behind some of the guys in high school and heard them talking about a girl who was too tall, too skinny, to be any good for anything, and realized with horror that they meant her.
High school had been a depressing experience for the pretty blonde girl. She had been born and raised in a little town called Fayetteville, far upstate, and that had been strike number one against her.
The boys in Fayetteville liked girls who were short and cute and carried around big tits and chunky asses. Becky, who had reached her full height of five-seven in eighth grade, and who didn't carry a pound of excess flesh in all her body, didn't meet their standards of beauty. Consequently she spent a long lonely adolescence in the rural county seat, and it wasn't until she was a junior in high school that she found a boy who seemed willing to date her.
That was Ted. Not the smartest, not the handsomest boy in Fayetteville, but he saw something in Becky that no one else did, and they found enjoyment in one another's company. But the agonizing part of it was Ted's growing possessiveness. In their senior year he began talking with assurance about the prospects for their married life, and Becky knew that the only good thing she'd been able to find was starting to go bad.
She didn't want to marry Ted. Even though she knew that by Fayetteville's standards she was unattractive, she didn't intend to marry the first guy who asked her. She'd been accepted at State University, and the prospect of entering at last a cosmopolitan, sophisticated world thrilled her as Ted never could. Telling him was the only problem. Each time she tried to bring up the subject. he did or said something that made her feel like a heel for even thinking of breaking up with him. As her last Fayetteville summer dragged on to its end, and the day of departing for the University neared, she felt an increasing sense of desperation.
Saturday afternoon, the day before she was to leave for the campus town where she would spend her next four years gaining an education, Ted came by and took her for a ride in his car. She could remember it as well as if it were happening right now....
*
*
*
*
It was the last day of August and the trees were in the fullest bloom of summer. Becky sighed inwardly to think that before many more weeks had gone by, the leaves would be burnt brown and fallen to decay across the long winter. Even the thought that with spring the lovely shades of green would reappear did not console her.
Part of her malaise was due to another cause, it should be noted. On Sunday afternoon--tomorrow--right after church, she and her parents would load her clothes and other necessities into the family car and begin the long drive to State University. Monday morning, bright and early, she would enroll as a freshman. But this was only Saturday, and the big day was still ahead of her, and for the time being she was yet a part of her old life.
And the most important part of her old life was standing beside her right now, his hand clutching hers tightly, his chest pressed against her shoulder blades as they watched the sun dropping lower and lower across the hills to westward. This was their own private garden, they had decided long ago, and it belonged to them in a way that could never be matched by the person who happened by some chance or other to bold legal title to this property.
They stood on the edge of a lush patch of green woods, oak and hickory and walnut and maple trees, bounded by a fragrant, verdant meadow, bright and dancing with daisies and violets and forget-me-nots. Becky loved to come here with Ted and watch the lovely, unchangeable patterns of nature--the sunset and the singing, swooping birds and the mysterious patterns of the clouds overhead. Here they could talk and dream and love one another in pure silent communication. She knew she was going to miss it all when she left for college, but she knew there was no way of altering the fate she had chosen for herself.
"Isn't it great to be young and alive," Ted was saying.
"Yes," she said softly, wondering if he would feel the same when he had been told her heart. Hands took hold of her shoulders and turned her body slowly round. She looked up into the face of the boy she had dated for the last two years. Somehow she could sense what was coming and she didn't want it to come.
"Becky," he began, "now that we're here--in our own private Garden of Eden, you might say--there's something--"
"Please, Ted," she protested, but there was no stopping him. One hand stole from its grip on her smooth sun-browned shoulder and slipped into his pocket. When it drew forth again she could see a tiny box held in his fingers.
"Here," he said with a smile. "I saw this in a store window and I thought it kinda matched your pretty blue eyes." His hand was pressing the gift upon her and she took it unwillingly. "Go ahead. Open it," he added.
She flipped up the lid and saw exactly what she had feared. A small diamond stone set in a lovely platinum ring band. "It's beautiful," she said.
"Try it on," he urged. "I bet it fits perfectly."
She forced the words from her throat. "I can't. It's beautiful, and I know it cost you a lot of money, but I can't wear it."
Ted's eyes saucered in stunned surprise. He opened his mouth to speak but could not find words.
Becky spoke hastily. 'That's why I was so anxious to see you today. I wanted to tell you that when I go away to school tomorrow, I'm going with no ties. Of any kind. I mean, I'd love to keep on being friends with you, if you like, but I won't be your girl any more." The look that came into his eyes brought her to the verge of tears, but she had to be strong, stronger than ever before.
"Why?" was all he could say, and that only after a long pause. Words crept slowly on him, and he added, "What's wrong with me?" One of his hands still lay upon her shoulder but it was limp and lifeless.
"There's nothing wrong with you, Ted," she explained. "It's just that I want something more out of life than to marry my high school boyfriend and settle down in my old home town and raise babies for the rest of my life. There's a big wide world outside of Fayetteville, and I want to see some of it before I put myself into harness. Do you understand what I mean?"
Ted's hand jerked from her shoulder and he seized with angry fingers the ring box that she was extending to him. He snapped it shut and clenched it in his fist for a moment, then whirled and tossed it into the undergrowth far away.
"You shouldn't do that," she said softly. "I'm sure they'll refund your money."
"Fuck the money!" he snarled, and she blinked in surprise. Ted had never used rough language in front of her before. Perhaps he was even angrier than she had expected him to be. But even so, it couldn't be helped. It was just as she had told him. She wanted more out of life than the boring but secure marriages and families most of her schoolmates had opted for, and if Ted couldn't see that, it was his problem. Not hers.
"Come on," she soothed. "We'll go find the ring so you can take it back to the store. You can't afford to throw away so much money."
"And my dad can't afford to send me to State University either," Ted glared. "I suppose if he could, that might make me good enough for you. Huh? Would that make me your kind of guy, Miss Fancyass?"
"Please, Ted," she protested. "It's nothing like that at all. I've told you exactly how I feel. Let's let it go at that, and part as friends. I'd still like to be your friend."
She started to move toward the bushes where she had seen the discarded ring fall, but as she passed him, incredibly strong fingers locked round her small wrist, twisting it cruelly. "Ow," she whispered, "you're hurting me! Please let go!" and she struggled vainly to escape the grasp of the boy she had just spurned.
"Now I'll tell you something," he hissed right into her face. "We've gone together for two years. And all the guys laughed at me all that time because they thought you were funny-looking and because none of them would touch you with a ten-foot pole. Do you remember how long it was before you even let me kiss you? And how long before you let me touch your tit--through your clothes, at that? Becky, I knew I wanted to marry you a long time ago, and because I wanted to marry you, I've treated you like a goddess on a pedestal.
"Now you tell me it was wasted, right from the beginning. Every flicking minute I spent with you, every fucking minute I spent thinking about you when we weren't together--all of that was wasted. Those two years I dated you I could have been going with a girl who was a girl--not with a little bitch who teased me along just so she could throw me out on my ass." His face was shoved close to hers now, and she could smell traces of hamburger and onions on his breath. Somehow that made the whole experience of his rage less bizarre, less frightening.
"I could have been going out with a girl who would let me fuck her. And would marry me too! But what did I get? I got a bitch who fucked me and then dropped me flat." He enunciated the brutal words clearly and savagely.
"Please let me go," she pleaded softly.
In reply be gave her arm a sudden jerk, bending it back, forcing her to drop to the ground on her knees. She went in fear that he would break her wrist in his anger, but even as she rested on her knees, pebbles grinding against her flesh, he was still twisting and wringing her slim arm. Becky found herself dropping further, lying on her side.
He squatted beside her now, and as he clung ruthlessly to her aching wrist, his other hand snaked out to cup her trembling little breast. She shivered at his touch. He felt her roughly, kneading in his grip the pliant flesh as he had never done before on those occasions when she had let him take hold of her demure tit.
"Do you know how many nights I used to neck with you, and then go home with aching balls--aching because I wanted to fuck you so bad I could even taste your hairy cunt on my lips--aching because I knew you were a good girl and because I respected you and wanted to marry you? Do you know how many nights?"
He squeezed her wrist, but she was nearly numb there by this time, and only a tiny, pathetic little moan slipped from her lips. Her breast seemed to be engorging in his grip, and she could hear her heart beating as loud as a jackhammer in her ears.
Suddenly Ted forced her onto her back. She lay as he molded her, knees up, face red because the hem of her short skirt was riding high and laying open to his view of her pink-pantied crotch. Becky wished she could reach down and pull the immodest hem of her garment to more respectable lengths. His angry hands without warning abandoned their grip upon her upper body and seized the tail of her skirt, jerking it even higher.
"Please," she whispered again, blushing purple at the exposure of her thighs and their junction. He slipped fingers into the elastic waistband of her now fully exposed panties and started to slip them down. Her hands were free and she reached instinctively to push his away. In reply he struck her face with his open palm, a stinging blow that made her ears ring, left her cheek tingling, hung her mouth open in shock. Her hands clutched the spot he had assailed and the sky grew red before her stricken eyes.
Becky lay moaning softly now, unable to believe that Ted--faithful, steady old Ted--had actually hit her even more unable to believe that right now he was completing the task of peeling off her panties. Her thighs moved of their own accord in reaction to her denuding, trying to come together and cover the secrets of her cunt. But he was between her legs, and the anguished flailing as they sought to shield her only served to lay even barer the twitching, opening and closing lips of her very pussy.
Ted's hands clutched the bottom of her blouse, jerked it from the rolled-up skirt's top, and pulled it up her trembling body, hauling it above the dainty swell of her bra-covered titties. She felt his hands clutch the pretty mounds, grinding the tender flesh. A low sigh escaped her lips, the sigh of helpless despair, and then his fingers slipped into the front of her bra, ripping viciously. The cotton yielded and tore, and she knew then that the cups were being thrust aside and her pink-tipped treasures lay exposed to his gaze. Her nipples knew his probing finger-tipped exploration, and she winced as they were teased and squeezed.
"Ted," she pleaded, "please stop. Don't do this to me," but her words made no impression upon him, and he took her breasts in hand, marveled that they were created in exactly the right shape and size for his palms to cup and enclose, and he played with them joyously.
A smile transformed his face from anger to delight, and he said to her in a light-hearted tone that made her think of the happy childish fun they had once shared, "If you scream, I'll kill you!"
Despair overcame her and she sank upon her back like one dead. She made no resistance as he bent his head and sucked her nipples between his lips, biting viciously yet playfully at the mounds of pectoral tissue that supported her points. Her pubic floss, golden and silky, rubbed against the front of his trousers, and in awed wonderment she felt the growing surge of hard flesh inside his pants.
Suddenly Ted stood up, and she watched bewildered as he tore off his trousers. The fabric of his undershorts ballooned out from the presence of the stiffened cock inside, and she found herself bug-eyed in amazement as she watched him remove his underwear, laying open for her inspection the first erect male prick she had ever seen. Ted stroked appreciatively the stiff cock, teased at its purple head. Becky could see a tiny drop of moisture oozing out from the slot at the point of his dick and she wondered what it might be.
Then he was kneeling between her still-spread legs once more, spreading them wider, fingers still rubbing the arrow-tipped organ that rose defiantly from his thigh juncture. Fingers stole to the lips of Becky's pussy, teased open her labia slyly, and she gasped to find that her hips were reacting to his touch by quivering heaves. She looked down across her poor, bared breasts, across her peach-fuzzed lower belly, and was aghast to note that her pelvis was beginning to rise and fall rhythmically. Nor could she ignore the fact that a strange moistness was starting to make itself apparent deep inside her young twat. Her legs were drawing back at the knees, and all this with no effort at all on her part. It was as if she had suddenly discovered a stranger living inside her own body, a stranger who had just jumped into control of that body and was using it for her own ends.
Ted crouched above her, his face glaring down at hers, and she could see the frighteningly hard shaft of his peter jutting forth. He nudged his thighs against hers, forcing her more and more open, and she knew that her labia were spreading. His hand took hold of his prick and guided it to the mouth of her pussy. It was all so curious that she didn't prepare herself for his inevitable intrusion. The face that loomed over hers was not the open, cheerful countenance of the boy she had known so long--it was the visage of another person entirely now, and she studied it carefully, looking for some familiar quality in the person brutalizing her now that might tie together the strangeness of this moment with the experiences of her past life.
And Becky's mouth jerked open in shock and a shrill scream passed her lips as she felt a fire exploding in her loins. "Oh, Jesus!" she trembled as the head of Ted's cock slipped inside the entrance to her vaginal mysteries. He was enormous, intruding, splitting her apart, tearing her very soul to shreds. She went stiff in protest at this outrageous attack, and the penetrating force stopped dead.
Ted grunted and shoved his dick harder, trying to make it drive further into Becky's resisting pussy. But her eyes were shut and her teeth locked in a grip that would have sundered a ten penny nail, and pain glowed from every line of her face. Her cunt muscles were tightened in fearful opposition, and try as he could, he could not force his prick into her another fraction of an inch.
But the head still remained inside her, and the pain was indescribable. She was afire internally, agony spreading across her body from the lips of her violated orifice, and squeeze as she might, she could not force the cruel presence from her.
"Loosen up, goddamn it!" Ted shrilled into her uncomprehending ear, but she made no move to follow his instructions. She lay braced in protest, her hips tense, the friction of his dry rod inside her only slightly moist hole agonizingly unbearable. Ted raised a hand and slapped her again, this time very hard, and her muscular control slipped away with the shock. Before she could regain her command of her body, the thrust of his cock had driven him into her to the very hilt. His belly smacked against hers, pubic hair rubbing pubic hair. A small gasp escaped her lips, and then her every internal organ seemed to collapse at once. She could neither speak nor breathe nor move.
His belly pulled away from hers then, and amazing relief came to her. She felt the length of his cock sliding back up her cuntal canal, further, further, till it was nearly out of her, only the head of his savage peter still inside her, and she prayed to whatever gods there were that he was going to take it out and let her get dressed and drive her home. And before she had been able to congratulate herself on this escape, Ted slammed back into her, this time hard, hard, hard, ripping her, she was sure, to bloody shreds from his size and force. Her vaginal barrel was screaming too, and every nerve in her body was a fiery tissue of pain, sending a message to her brain that spelled shock and excruciating misery.
Becky screamed aloud, knowing that death was only seconds away, whether from his strangling hands or his ripping prick, and she knew that not even her dying would prevent him from working his foul designs upon her. The tempo of his cock-jabbing increased steadily, and she felt his belly pounding against hers on each thrust.
Almost before she knew it, however, she realized that she was not going to die--that her pussy was not torn asunder--that indeed, her hips were playing their own counterpoint melody to his furious fucking. Her vagina, already fitting his penis like second skin, sought to tighten itself round his driving length, as if the closeness of the fit already were not enough to kill her. As he stabbed her again and again she was beginning to contribute her own exertions to the operations, surprised to find that once the initial pain bad been absorbed, there was a strange new quality, almost pleasant, to this experience. His cock head slid deeper and deeper into her canal, and as his thrusts continued she felt less and less pain, aware that her cunt was lubricating itself as he penetrated it, giving him a smoother road for travel on every stroke. Even so, she felt that the deepening lunges must soon burst her belly, puncture her heart, fill her lungs with savage peter. But she made no effort to expel him from her body. Her hands flailed out and she clutched the ground on which she lay, her hips pumping with his, her heels tightly set on the ground and braced against the cheeks of her ass.
Then she felt him grow to gargantuan proportions inside her, and liquid fire exploded in her belly. Ted thrust hard, one, two, three times, each jerk accompanied by a fresh squirt of boiling lava deep inside her, and she could hear the squish of his come as his cock thrust through it to deliver each fresh new gush of cream. When be had emptied himself at last and pulled his cock from her tight hole, a river of his juice, sticky, creamy white, boiling hot, flowed out of her as if in pursuit of the one who had left it there. Her entire crotch was soaked from her own lubrication juices and from the jism he had spilled inside her, and her belly heaved and jerked as it found itself once more unfilled by his hard shaft.
Ted breathed heavily as he climbed once more to his feet, and she watched curiously as his cock began to wilt before her very eyes. It was covered in the cream it had spilt, and he wiped it dry on his shorts before putting on his trousers. The undershorts were so wet from the excess juice he wiped on them that he tossed them into some weeds with a grimace. Then, clad in his pants, he dropped to his knee and shook a finger at Becky.
His hand swooped down to wipe off some of the cream and girl juice that drenched her genitals.
"Look at that," he sneered. "You rotten bitch!" He thrust his hand into her face. "All that time you put me off and you weren't even cherry. Who copped your maidenhead, anyway?"
She stared at him uncomprehending. "I don't understand."
"Who busted your cherry?" he yelled. "Who else have you been fucking?"
"Nobody," she whispered. "I never fucked anybody before." My God, she thought. Had she actually said the word "fuck"?
"You lying cunt!" he hissed, and she thought for a moment he was going to hit her again. "If you were a virgin, you'd have bled like a hog when I stuck you. Look here, Becky, I'm not as fucking dumb as you seem to think I am."
She looked at him with eyes that suddenly understood. "My hymen broke when I was eleven," she replied softly. "I was climbing a fence on my grandfather's farm and all of a sudden my crotch was bleeding. My mother made the doctor write out a certificate for me stating what had happened. I think it's still at the house somewhere."
"Are you telling me that you never fucked anybody else?" he asked, wide-eyed now, his body close to hers lest he miss a word of her anxiously awaited reply.
"That's what I told you," she said absently.
"Oh, God," Ted whispered, throwing his arms round the girl. "Oh, God, I'm sorry! Becky, I don't know what came over me. But don't you see--I love you so much I couldn't let you go without fighting for you. Please--we'll find the ring, and you'll wear it when you go off to school tomorrow, and I'll come up and visit whenever I can, and we'll get married--anytime you want. Okay?" He smiled hopefully.
Becky slid from his grasp and got to her feet. Her blouse still rode above the tops of her breasts, and she reluctantly threw aside the bra Ted had ripped. It was just too torn-up to be any use. She picked up her panties and slipped into them before pulling down her yanked-up skirt. I'll just have to avoid Mom when I get home, she thought, because she'll wonder why I left wearing my brassiere and came home without it.
Ted arose and helped her smooth down wrinkles in her clothing. His hand stroked sorrowfully the still-red traces of his slaps. "Okay?" he asked again. "Is that how it's gonna be, honey? Jesus, Becky, I love you."
"I told you once before," she said forcefully. "When I go to State, I'm going as a free woman." He stared blankly. "And the fact that you have just raped me doesn't make me want you a bit more than I did when we were talking about this before. Now come on. We'll find that ring so you can return it and get your money back. Then I think you'd better take me home. I have some getting ready to do before tomorrow."
He dropped his hands in despair. Her voice cut him like a stiletto when she added, "And I don't think I even want to be friends with you from now on, Ted. You should be evened up for all those years you think you wasted on me, so when you take me home, I'd appreciate it if you just got the hell out of my life and stayed out of it--forever!"
CHAPTER THREE
In retrospect, strangely enough, Becky had to admit that the shame of being raped and dishonored was minor compared to the physical discomfort she felt all that night. Her cunt was sore and stiff and sent fresh aches throughout her body whenever she moved. After Ted drove her home (thank God her parents were out briefly, so she was able to get inside without being seen) she lay down on her bed, legs stretched stiff, her mind re-enacting the horrors she had just been through.
Sleep came uneasily to her that night, and she awoke in the morning weary, still conscious of the aching in her brutally stretched pussy. She dragged herself out of bed when her mother called, limped downstairs, invented a story about muscle aches due to sleeping in an awkward position for her father, invented a story about menstrual difficulty for her mother, and got herself ready for the trip to State University.
The pain faded as the morning wore on, and by the time the Ryan car passed the WELCOME sign on the outskirts of the university town Becky felt almost as good as new. She looked out the window, drinking in the quaint, academic charm of the town where she would be spending her wonderful college years, and she was pleased with what she saw.
Henderson was a sedate town, founded over 180 years before, and it had its share of lovely old houses whose residents felt no need to sacrifice to the demands of modernization. Not the least of these was a street of imposing buildings, most of them graced by stately shade trees, their lawns featuring lounging furniture. This was Greek Row, the site of the campus' various fraternity and sorority houses. Becky looked wistfully at them as her father steered the car along their street. She reflected on the romantic novels she had read, the stories of young college girls so desperately in love with handsome young college men--stories set against a backdrop of elegant life revolving round the Greek-letter organizations on campus, with cute pledge stunts, such as scrubbing steps of administration buildings with toothbrushes; the sisterhood of girls who found pleasure in one another's company; the stunningly romantic, Georgette Heyer aura of formal dances, with bands playing soft sweet music while tuxedoed boys and their corsaged partners moved and glided cross a polished floor. She knew even then that some day she too would be a part of one of those organizations, would have a whole houseful of sisters in whom she could confide, with whom she could be at ease, and--dared she even dream it?--she might even find true love in the form of a fraternity pin adorning her breast.
"Isn't the campus pretty?" observed Becky's mother. Indeed it was pretty, Becky thought The buildings were classic red brick, their walls ivy-covered, and a spacious green stretched across the middle part of the main campus. Today, Freshman Sunday, the day when the new underclassmen arrived and began to accustom themselves to college life, the place seemed packed. New students strolled everywhere, guidebooks in hand, acquainting themselves with this or that physical feature of the campus. Goodness, Becky thought, there are so many people here already! What would it look like when the upperclassmen arrived Monday? There would be wall-to-wall bodies everywhere, it seemed.
A friendly campus policeman guided the Ryans to a parking place near the dorm to which Becky had been assigned, and the three newcomers piled out of the car to begin the process of moving the young girl into her new dorm.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" Mr. Ryan asked in a puzzled voice as his eyes focused upon a strapping young boy carrying luggage into the building Becky had identified as her new home.
"It has to be," his daughter declared, looking once more at her campus guidebook. "It says Bentley Hall, right beside the door, see, and this is the only Bentley Hall on campus."
Her father shook his head, watching still another young man pack his bags through the door, but he and Mrs. Ryan followed Becky into Bentley Hall.
And it was the correct Bentley Hall, they soon found out. Becky's room ticket was duly stamped by a prim, eyeglassed young lady at a card table in the lobby, and the blonde newcomer was guided through a set of swinging doors that would lead her to her new room.
"Excuse me," Mr. Ryan asked the girl, "but why are there so many boys bringing their suitcases in here?"
"Oh," smiled the girl, taking off her glasses. "This is a coeducational dormitory. We have girls on one floor, boys on the next." Seeing Mr. Ryan's sudden look of disapproval she was quick to add, "But everything is on the up-and-up, I can assure you, sir. There is plenty of supervision. In fact, I'm floor proctor on the floor where your daughter will be boarding, and I don't intend to let anything sinful or immoral take place." She smiled again, and Mr. and Mrs. Ryan found themselves reluctantly reciprocating, but their hearts were not convinced.
Becky counted off doors, one after the other. "One-fourteen, 115, 116, 117. Here we are," she called to her lagging parents, and she took hold of the door knob of Room 118, flinging open the portal.
"Hi," said the girl sitting on one of the twin beds in the room. She was a short girl, charmingly plump with full breasts and ample hips. Her hair and eyes were brown and her skin was olive-tinted. A smile came easily to her wide mouth and showed off her thick and sensual underlip.
"HI," Becky replied, stepping forward with outstretched hand. "I'm Becky Ryan, and you must be my roomie."
"Sure am," said the other girl, getting to her feet and shaking Becky's hand vigorously. "I'm Marjie--short for Marjorie--Martin. It used to be Martini, but when my grandpa came over from Calabria he changed it, so his name would sound more American. But what's more American than a martini? would you tell me!"
Becky introduced them all around, and her parents set down the suitcases they had brought in. Marjie volunteered quickly to help carry in the rest of Becky's belongings, and so the four made their way back out to the Ryan car to finish the task of moving in the blonde freshman.
Afterwards, sitting in the dorm room, Becky's father cleared his throat and turned his face toward Marjie. "Uh, I wonder--Marjie--what do your parents think about your staying in a--coed dorm?"
"Gee," Marjie grinned, "I never asked them. But who could resist it? I mean, school-sponsored Orgyland?" She chuckled and then went red when she saw the look that swept over both the Ryans. "Of course, that's what everybody thinks," she was quick to add, "but I understand it's nothing like that at all. Pretty tight security, you know. But a lot of people get the wrong idea."
Mr. Ryan looked at his watch and announced sadly that it was nearly time for he and his wife to be on their way home. Marjie turned down their invitation to accompany them and Becky to dinner, and so the Ryans left, to spend together their last hour as a united provincial family.
When Becky had kissed her parents goodbye with tearful regret, and when she had waved goodbye to their car for as long as she could see it, she turned reluctantly and cast her eyes upon Henderson and State University. Her crotch felt much, much better now, and so she decided with a sparkle to explore the campus, at least to find out where her classes would meet, and generally to familiarize herself with the salient points of the large college grounds.
After carefully collating her schedule and the campus map and marking with an "X" each building in which she would have a class, Becky found herself wandering around aimlessly, just seeing what there was to see. She stared enviously at the people walking round her, wished that she were laughing and chatting with some friend right now on this beginner's tour, wondered if she might not find some friend while she was here. Marjie seemed like a nice girl, she decided, and she might be fun to be with. But Marjie was obviously a city girl, and wasn't it likely that she'd find Becky's Fayetteville background a drawback to possible friendship? Becky wished she weren't so rural, wished that she were prettier, wished that she were everything she could never be. And once more she found herself on Greek Row, looking enviously and wistfully at the sorority houses, wondering almost aloud if someday she too might not find a home there.
Darkness stole upon her before she knew it, and a horrified glance at her watch told her it was a little after nine o'clock. Weariness hit her like a sledgehammer as she stared at her timepiece, and so she turned her face toward Bentley Hall, eager only to lie down upon her bed, pull a sheet over her blonde head, and sleep till noon tomorrow.
The door was locked when she arrived at Room 118, so she let herself in. Marjie was nowhere to be seen, but the pantsuit she had been wearing earlier was tossed upon her bed. Becky wondered if her roommate had gone to take a shower, or if she had already found herself a date for tonight. Darn, she thought sadly. She bad been counting on having a nice girl-talk with Manic tonight.
Becky removed her pale blue blouse, took off her white bra, stepped out of her comfy bellbottom slacks, and slipped her Snoopy nightshirt on. She hung up her clothes, laid out clean underwear for tomorrow, and crawled into bed. It was early, but she was so tired that she didn't feel guilty. Sleep drifted upon her weary body and the soft mat of her bed was like a cushion of clouds.
Sounds intruded upon her as she lay dreaming--sounds that had no place in the sleep fantasy she was enjoying. She strove to reconcile them with her dream, to summon up persons, things, places, to account for their presence. but the attempt failed. Becky found herself stirring slightly, and her eyes winked open and shut sleepily several times before she was able to keep them open, adjusting gradually to the dim light that filtered into the room from the streetlamp outside the window.
"Shh," Marjie was hissing in a soft low voice, and then there was a muted giggle. "Stop that," Marjie repeated. Dim forms grew clearer as Becky's partially opened eyes began to focus, and now she could see that her roommate was not alone.
The short, cute girl stood by her bed, and Becky could see, even clearer, the much taller figure of a boy beside her. He towered over Marjorie by a foot. Becky almost giggled as she thought of Mutt and Jeff, and she wondered if she ought to call out to them. But why did Marjie have a boy with her? In here?
Marjie was standing slightly tiptoed as her bead arched back and her mouth fastened upon her friend's, and Becky could hear plain as a shotgun blast the sucking sound the two sets of lips made as they touched and tasted. Then there was an even louder smack and Marjorie pulled away from him. She went to her nightstand and lit a small candle, standing in a brass candle lantern, and the sudden influx of light threw strange and weird shadows upon the two newcomers.
Becky didn't know boys were allowed in girls' rooms. Was this what living in a coed dorm meant? she wondered. And then she had to stifle a gasp as she watched Marjie's fingers begin to unbutton the faded work shirt she was wearing. And even more startled was Becky to note that her roomie wasn't wearing a bra underneath her shirt! When the front of the shirt opened and slipped back, then off, the girl's full-sized fits, brown-capped and heavy, sprang free like young gazelles, and the boy with her made no waste of time in taking hold of them and kissing and sucking their dark points, their full curves. While he nursed at her breasts, Marjie undid the waistband of her jeans and let them slip to her feet. Clad only in a pair of panties she now addressed herself to the removal of her friend's shirt and trousers.
"C'mon, let's fuck," the boy whispered huskily, but Marjie's hand clamped over his mouth.
"Quiet, you'll wake up Becky," she warned him, kneeling as she did and applying her other hand to the belt of his pants. With quick deft motions she undid his trousers and soon had them, as well as his shorts, around his ankles. He stepped out of the pants and threw atop them the shirt he had been wearing. Marjie stood up and rubbed her body against his. Her hand disappeared between them, and Becky heard the guy go "Um-hm," in appreciation. When their bodies pulled apart his cock stood up, thick and high and stiff.
Marjorie lay down softly on her bed and reached a hand for the boy. Her fingers settled round the shaft of his peter and she pulled him to her with that delicious handhold. He slid down beside her, and they lay for a moment kissing and cuddling, her fist locked round his prick, sliding up and down its length with practiced skill.
"Take it easy," he warned her, "and save some of that."
Becky was absolutely stunned by what she was watching so surreptitiously. She was breathing evenly in an attempt to feign sleep, but her heart was thumping excitedly. Not four feet away from her lay Marjie and a strange boy, naked and lustful and obviously ready to engage in the same sort of activity Ted had practiced upon her just yesterday. But this wasn't the same at all. Marjorie was making no resistance whatsoever--indeed, she seemed to be quite aggressive, unlike the resigned martyr stance Becky had adopted while Ted fucked her so cruelly.
And then, even more incredibly to Becky's peering eyes, Marjie raised herself above the boy's prone body, turning round as she did so, and pressed her crotch squarely into his face! And, aiming her own head down his body, laid clever hands upon his stiff cock and bent her face low to suck that proud organ between her lips! Becky nearly jumped out of bed in shocked surprise. Never in her young life had she heard of such an awful thing. And not only was Marjorie sucking and kissing her guy's thing, she was letting him tongue-touch her own girl parts. And if the excited, agitated humping of their hips was any indication, both of them were enjoying it no end. Why, any Fayetteville girl abandoned enough to do such a thing would be ridden out of town on a rail?
Marjorie's head bobbed up and down as she fed the length of the formidable cock in and out of her mouth. Sucking noises were coming from her, slurps and slobbers and gulps and smacks, louder and louder as she ate away. It seemed as if she'd forgotten completely that her roomie was supposed to be asleep on the next bed. And as she ate him, so he ate her. Was he hurting her, applying his mouth to her girl things like that? Becky wondered. She couldn't tell, but the dynamic humping of her roommate's hips above the boy's head must mean something.
And then Marjie was groaning softly, pressing her bottom against his face all the tighter, making strange noises round the penis shaft gliding in and out of her mouth.
"I'm not far from blowing," the boy muttered, his words muffled by the muff in his mouth. Marjorie was still making soft contented sounds and it seemed as if she didn't hear him. He put both hands on her ass, lifted it off his face, and slid around, pulling his cock from her lips. She made no resistance as he reversed himself on the bed, lying flat on his back. She let herself be pulled atop him then, and his hands moved quickly between them. Marjie hoisted herself above his pointing cock, and as he steadied it, she lowered herself, imbedding it in her fluid cunt.
He's raping her, Becky thought. Just like Ted did me. Or rather, almost like Ted did me. Obviously he was doing the same thing--sticking his thing in her girl hole--but it wasn't quite the same. Ted had put her on her back and crawled atop her. This was the other way round. So maybe Marjie was raping the guy? Questions flowed through Becky's mind and she wished she had someone who could answer them, but questions departed her abruptly as she watched in fascination the way Marjie swiveled her hips up and down upon that piercing cock, taking it in, sliding herself up and down on it. His hands were round her waist, and her fingers rested upon his chest. Becky could hear the swishing of his prick as it reamed her friend's channel and she could hear the rustling of their pubic hair brushing together each time Marjie sank herself down upon his stiff prick.
Marjie was moaning and cooing, "Oh, oh, oh," as the cock slicked in and out, and her guy's teeth were gritted in determination--determination to fuck her to death before be blew his wad, determination to fight off the overwhelming sensation that threatened to make him drop his load now.
His cock slicked in and out like a sickle through high weeds. Becky knew that she could hear it sliding up and down the tender flesh of Marjie's cunt channel, knew she could hear it vibrating as it grew larger and larger with the load of come building up inside it.
Neither of the loving pair, it would seem, was now concerned about waking Becky. Marjie's groans were louder and louder, her rasping breath as obvious as a creaking door, and he was panting heavily as he slammed inside her joybox. And then with a mingled wheezy gasp and stifled yell he stuck her hard, jerking his ass off the bed as he drove her with every inch he could summon, pressing his cock into her tightly, heavily, dumping gallons of his hot come inside her sucking cuntal sheath.
The successful lovers collapsed together and lay huddled on the bed, Manic still atop, still impaled on his softening penis, her full tits lying heavily on his chest. Their eyes were closed, and Becky wondered fright-filled if they were dead. When they failed to move for a long time she knew they must be. And then her desperate eyes were slowly aware of the steady rise and fail of Marjie's back, and she knew it was sleep that had put an end to the labors of love. Regretful that it was all over so soon, bewildered that she should feel such regret, Becky closed her own eyes and saw flashing across her shut lids the scene she had just witnessed in the flesh.
Again and again Marjie and the guy undressed, lay on the bed, sucked each other, then fitted their bodies together to fuck. As soon as the figures in her vision had ended their bout of sex, they began it again. Becky tossed and thrashed, upset and excited, and when sleep fell upon her stealthily it carried her into a dreamland where the same scene recurred constantly, all through the long night she lay slumbering.
CHAPTER FOUR
When Becky awoke the next morning--very late, she was informed by her cute little Snoopy clock--the bed next to her was empty once more. Only the presence of a gutted candle in Marjie's candle lantern proved to her that she had not dreamed the events of last night. She could recall plain as life itself the strange unearthly shadows thrown by the flickering taper upon the humping bodies so close to her and yet so obviously in a world of their own from which lonely Becky was definitely excluded.
It was Monday morning, and she had slept till ten! Her rest had not been peaceful, for her dreams were strange and troubling. Nothing in them was totally new to her, of course, but the context in which she had fantasized during her sleep had been one of dark implication. Instinctively as she lay on her bed struggling to keep her eyes open in the clear morning light, endeavoring to come to wakefulness, her hand slid across one young breast, lightly covered by the synthetic fabric of her sleepshirt. She recoiled at her touch, remembering with panic the rough grasping of Ted's hands upon her once virgin tits, and the shock snapped her fully awake.
This was registration day for the freshmen, and she was pretty sure it would be a long and complicated process. She would have to pay her fees, get enrolled in her classes, make final settlement on her dorm rent, buy textbooks, and she knew not what else. Bureaucracy reigned at the large campus and every activity carried its weight of paper work with it.
Yawning, Becky climbed out of bed. She opened a drawer in her dresser and fetched out a towel, washcloth and shower cap, so that she might take her morning bath. She didn't like the idea of communal bathrooms for each floor, having bitter memories of her high school gym class, when she was forced to bathe alongside the stacked, cute girls all the guys liked much better than her; but there was no way to help it, Becky decided. Her feet slipped into fuzzy indoor shoes and she paddled down the hail toward the bathroom. At least, she thought, she had overslept long enough so that everyone else was almost certainly finished by now. She wouldn't have to have anyone laughing at her body.
She entered the first floor's large lavatory. A row of sinks and mirrors adorned one wall, toilet stalls a second, and individual shower compartments a third. Each shower niche had its own faucet and controls and was equipped with a towel rack and a curtain that could be drawn shut by the more modest misses. Becky was thankful for that.
The Snoopy sleepshirt slid over her head and found a place on the rack by the shower opening. Becky hung up her towel, slipped the plastic cap over her head, adjusted the spray to her preferred temperature, and stepped into the shower. The water was deliciously warm and made her body tingle as she stood luxuriating in its flow for what seemed long moments. When her body was wet she began to apply the soap, stretching in simple delights as she rubbed the foam across herself. Her face upturned, she let the water run all over her front, and gradually, as the spray ran endlessly down her face, down her neck, across her tits, along her belly, and at last down her legs, Becky thought she heard giggling in the room.
Her face was red but no one could see it, for she reached behind herself and pulled the curtain closed without turning round. She hated being on public display.
The tingly flow had rinsed her front completely and so she turned, eyes still shut to keep out the soap now gone, to ablute her back as well. She writhed catlike in the gentle warmth and her eyes drifted sleepily open. When they were in focus once more, she blinked them hard, to clear herself of what she knew was a phantasm of her so-recently stimulated imagination. The vision persisted.
On the other side of the room, facing two of the long row of mirrors set above sink bowls, were two people. One was a girl, brushing her teeth. Long red hair trailed down her back, pausing just short of a highset, plump ass. Beside her stood a taller figure, wide of shoulders, narrow of hips. It was a boy, and he was shaving, lather dripping as he dabbed his cheeks with the white foam. And both of them were naked as Becky was.
But the strangest of all, they weren't really doing anything. They were just standing there side by side, carrying on their morning preparations, and the fact that they were both nude did not seem to matter to them.
Becky stood in the shower like a stunned cow, water coursing across her back, soap clutched in one motionless hand, her eyes fixed upon the backs of the newcomers. The girl finished first, spat out the remainder of her foamy toothpaste, and turned.
"Hi," she said, eyes sparkling in a cute winsome face. She was freckled everywhere, it seemed, except the points of her fits, which were whiter than the rest of her tanned body. And, Becky noted, the girl was red-haired by nature instead of some bottled rinse. Thick curls of carrot hair covered the plump swell of her mons.
The guy turned too. Becky stifled a gasp when she saw his cock. It was long even in repose, and hung obscenely across his sack of testicles. His face was still covered with shaving cream and he held a razor in his hand. "Hi," he chimed in.
Becky replied in a choked gulp that passed for a greeting. She knew the sexes were mixed in this dorm, but she hadn't expected them to be this mixed! Hadn't the floor proctor told her that boys lived on one floor, girls another? Was she not secure even in the shower room?
The red-haired girl strode briskly across the tiled floor and stopped in front of Becky's drawn curtain. Suddenly the blonde girl was aware that her fits were visible to the other young lady, in spite of the protective barrier. It had been designed to conceal girls slightly shorter than five-seven Becky. Hurriedly she lay an arm across her shy breasts.
"I'm Patty Sundin," the redhead smiled. "That's Robby over there. Are you a freshman too?"
"Yes," Becky whispered, close to frightened tears. "My name is B-B-B-Becky."
Robby had finished his shave, wiped his face clean of lather, and was even now stealing lightly across the floor, towel in hand. He flipped it on Patty's chunky round ass and she shrieked in pretended outrage. Turning, she pursued the boy round and round the tile-covered bathroom floor, her towel streaking out again and again to flick his ass. And then he turned, intending to regain the upper hand, but found to his surprise that yet another stinging sortie from Patty's towel awaited him. The flipping end of the terrycloth touched his cock, and Becky was aghast to see it begin to rise slowly. As she watched horror-struck, the penis that had seemed frightfully long even in relaxation grew stiff and its head thrust forward, ever lifting itself.
The outer door opened and Becky was relieved to see that the newest corner was none other than Darlene, the floor proctor. She remembered with affection the prim, almost prudish cast of Darlene's face, the old-maid severity of the round, plastic framed glasses the girl had worn yesterday when Becky was checking in, and she was certain that Darlene would take matters in hand and force this male intruder to leave.
Darlene smiled at Robby and Patty, walked past them, and stopped at the shower stall next to the one in which Becky stood. Her fingers undid the sash round the waist of her robe, threw it open, and the girl suddenly appeared in nudity as well. She fastened her discarded robe to the towel rack, placed her glasses in a pocket of the garment, and leisurely adjusted the spray of her own shower faucet.
The floor proctor was nicely constructed, and once she'd removed her glasses, Becky saw, all traces of dourness vanished from her face. Slightly near-sighted eyes squinted a little but the smile she gave Becky as she, too, began to soak was warm and friendly.
"I see the coeducation has begun already," she smiled, her thumb indicating the forms of Patty and Robby, who had just piled themselves into one of the shower stalls. Made for one occupant, it was obviously comfortably cramped with two, and the insistent giggling of the two freshmen did not abate.
"Is that allowed?" Becky whispered. "I mean, I thought--"
"It's like this," Darlene explained. "In the coed dorms here at State, kids are segregated by floors. At least in living quarters. The only real rule is that guys aren't supposed to stay all night in a girl's room. And that rule isn't enforced too often. Unless there's a rape or something."
Becky's eyes opened wider. "But don't they at least have a rule to keep guys out of the girls' bathrooms?"
Darlene shook her bead. "The Board of Regents in this state are a prudish bunch of old codgers. None of them even seems to have thought of that possibility when governing rules for coed dorms were drawn up. There's no law against it." She caught the look of discomfort Becky was trying bravely to conceal. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Are you nervous or something? Surely you've seen guys naked before. Anyway, by mid-semester you'll be used to it. I was a little shy myself the first year I lived here, but it passes. Tell you, though, I'm surprised it's begun so early this year. I think those two met each other yesterday. My room is next to the girl's, and I could hardly sleep last night for the giggling." Her head bent closer to Becky's. "It's my guess they were both virgins until last night and they had so much fun they can't bear to be apart."
Becky was aware now that she was cleansed, but the water continued to spray her and she knew she could not bear to step out of the shower and dry herself before dressing. She reached across the drawn curtain for her towel and pulled it inside and began to wipe her wet body. It was cramped but she finished to her satisfaction, and then she reached for her nightshirt. With her eyes carefully averted from Patty and Robby (who were by this time washing one another with lots of soap and even louder laughter), she got into her costume and stepped out. Behind her Darlene was bathing languidly, her shower curtain not even drawn, and she dared not look toward Patty and the boy. All she wanted to do was get back to her room, get dressed, and hurry to registration. Her heart sank with horror as she realized that this was only the beginning of her college life! What might not take place before her unwilling eyes in days to come?
*
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*
Everywhere she went that mad, hectic day, Becky found herself standing in endless lines. At registration she stood waiting for an hour and a half, only to find that when she had reached the table where she could pick up her class cards it was lunch time and everyone had taken a break. And when finally she had secured her classes and paid all her fees, it was time to buy her books, and this meant another long line and another long wait. She didn't lurch back into her room at the dorm until nearly six, and by that time she was totally exhausted.
Marjie sat on the bed in a modified lotus posture, totally bare, and Becky was aghast to see that the spread of the girl's legs revealed explicitly the hairy slit of her cunt. She dropped her books onto her own bed, trying not to look at Marjie too carefully.
The girl did have a pretty body, Becky decided. It was the kind she had always wanted, with plumpness of breasts, hips, and thighs. The kind the boys back in Fayetteville also wanted. Marjie's short curling hair framed a cute dimpled face, with lips full and slightly puffy, but on the whole giving a look of roguish charm. Becky couldn't understand how this sweet-looking girl, one who would have been the darling of Fayetteville, had actually done the things the troubled blonde had witnessed last night.
Back home nice girls didn't fuck boys. Not unless they were engaged and the wedding date had been set, of course. In those circumstances it was considered permissible though not entirely laudable, and certainly not mandatory. Otherwise, a girl was nothing but a whore. There were a few of those around, to be sure. It was common knowledge that Karen Dillon would fuck any boy who gave her a nice time, but none of the other girls--except her own kind--would have anything to do with her. And while the boys might take advantage of her accommodating nature, they certainly didn't socialize with her in public. That was the worst thing about the awful experience she'd had with Ted. It proved that deep down inside him, the boy thought no more of her than he did of Karen. And now Marjie's actions last night had caused Becky to look back at the morality with which she'd grown up. Was it wrong to fuck a boy if you were a nice girl and didn't even intend to marry him at a pre-determined date?
Marjie looked up. "Hi, Beck," she said. "Haven't seen you, really, since you and your folks split yesterday. You were asleep when 1 got in last night, and when I left this morning too. How's it been going?"
I wasn't asleep last night--not at all! Becky's mind screamed. I saw what you did. Her voice strove to subdue its quaver. "Oh, okay, I guess," she said.
Marjorie smiled once more, then lay down on her back. Her legs were still spread and bent, and Becky could see every feature of her roomie's considerable gash. She wished the dark girl would cover herself. She couldn't keep from her inner eyes the vision of Marjie sucking that guy's thing last night, licking and slurping on it as if it were a big lollipop.
"I've just been trying to get used to the campus and all," Becky added, trying to sound gay and cheery.
"Lot of things round here to get used to," Marjie observed. "Look, Beck," she added, "since we don't have any classes till tomorrow, how'd you like to come to a big party tonight? I met some guys yesterday--they're upperclassmen, and they're kind of hip, see--and they're having a little back-to-school bash at their place tonight. Plenty of weed, plenty of booze, plenty of guys. Wanna come?"
"Oh, no," Becky replied. "I'd better not. I don't like to be around when people are drinking."
"Then smoke some weed and let the drunks go to hell," Marjie grinned. "There'll be something for every taste."
"Weed?" Becky asked.
"You know. Dope. Grass. Pot."
"Marijuana?"
"Yeah. Haven't you ever blown a joint before?" Marjie asked, sitting up, suddenly giggling at her inadvertent double entendre.
"No, of course not," Becky informed her, disapproval coloring her voice. "My health teacher said that marijuana is the most dangerous drug known to man. She told us how unscrupulous pushers will give you a free marijuana cigarette just to get you hooked, which happens to you as soon as you've smoked it. Then when you go back wanting more, they want twelve dollars--sometimes even more!--for every additional one. And your habit just gets worse and worse, and before you know it, you're injecting heroin into your body because it's the only thing that will keep you satisfied. It's just terrible and I wouldn't have anything to do with it!"
Manic was laughing now, and Becky felt vague anger stirring inside her.
"You're a little out of date," Marjie grinned. "That's an old wives' tale, Beck. Look at me. Do I seem to be a demented hophead junkie dope fiend? Do you see any needle tracks on my arms?"
"No," Becky said.
"Well, I blow grass whenever I get the chance. And so do most of my friends back home. Honestly--it doesn't hurt you. Not a bit. Medical science can't find any evidence that it does, and neither can the government, though that's top secret. I think it's on one of Nixon's secret tapes, maybe. The only thing grass does to you is make you less willing to put up with the shit society gives you on a dirty plate every day and expects you to eat. Do you call that being hurt?"
"I'd rather not," Becky insisted. "Besides, I've been off my normal schedule for a couple of days, and I want to go to bed early tonight so I can be all rested up for classes tomorrow."
"I'd have thought last night's snooze would be enough for you," Marjie said. "I know that when I came in you were out like a burnt-out light bulb."
If only you knew how round asleep I was, Becky thought wickedly, you'd be blushing red right now, Marjie. If only you knew.
*
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*
Evening shadows were falling on the campus. Marjie leaned, rubenesquely naked, across her bed to look at Becky's Snoopy clock. "I'd better get dressed," she said, hauling herself off the bed. Shuffling through her dresser drawers she began to lay out things in front of her vanity mirror. "You ought to come along," she added. "It's going to be a ball. And I do mean a ball!" She was combing her hair to give herself that fashionable uncombed look. Satisfied at last, she stepped back and peered at her reflection through eyes well trained at discovering imperfections in her appearance.
A chorus of whistles suddenly burst upon the air, and Manic turned to stare out the window at her left hand side. Outside on the sidewalk facing the girls' room stood three or four guys getting an eyeful of her uncovered frame.
"Fuck off, you assholes!" she shouted, sticking her head and well-breasted chest out the window to sneer at them before pulling back in and sliding the curtain shut. "Damn peeping Toms," she muttered.
Certain now that she was as finely coiffed as any other college girl in all the world, Becky's roommate reached to her assortment of beauty aids and laid hand upon a bottle of scent. Becky could tell it was expensive perfume as soon as Manic had unstopped the container and a telltale whiff of the fragrance drifted across the room. Manic placed her finger over the opening and turned the bottle upside down, dabbing some of the sweet-smelling liquid on the dark brown tips of her breasts and in the deep vale of cleavage between her full mounds.
She moistened her finger in perfume once more and applied it to her dark pubic fleece, sliding her finger up and down the slice of her crotch with zest. "Gotta be kissing sweet where it really counts," she said with a sly snicker.
Nude and jiggling delightfully, Manic strode across the room and flung open her wardrobe door. She muttered to herself for a moment or two, then withdrew a knit dress, pale blue in color, and held it against her body.
"How does that look, Beck?" she asked, posing behind the dress.
"My God," Becky blurted. "You can see right through it?"
"Of course you can," Marjie assured her, "That's what it's made for." She turned to the mirror and satisfied her own eyes. "Outrageous. Martin," she mumbled to herself, throwing the dress upon the bed. Becky couldn't take her eyes off the daring gaps in the material. She looked up to see Marjie fishing through the drawer of undies, finally fishing out a pair of filmy bikini panties. Becky could see Marjie's hand plain as day through the little garment. Obviously if her roommate wore these transparent undergarments beneath her see-through dress, why, every female mystery she possessed would be on public display. The idea shocked her, but it stimulated her just a little bit, too. She thought of unsettling dreams of her own--dreams in which she had walked nude down the streets--the streets of Fayetteville--and for a moment she imagined that she was Marjie, going to the party with her body bare to every eye.
Marjie donned the tiny bikinis and pulled the dress down over her head. It fell with a swish and she wiggled her full hips to let it slide into place. Becky's eyes were wide as she found herself staring right at her friend's nipples. This was so much more shocking than seeing Marjie frankly nude. Somehow that seemed almost natural. But now--to see Marjie in what might by some stretch of definitions be termed a dress--a dress that gapped and gaped and let the brown points of her nipples show through the separation of the knit strands which made the costume. Becky's toes quivered slightly inside her shoes as she stared, and she tried to make her staring as inconspicuous as possible. She could not bear to look down Marjie's body, to see what she knew was there--the panties clearly visible beneath the dress, and Marjie's beaver clearly visible through the panties. Her eyes drifted in spite of her determination, and she was stunned to realize that she could through that wispy band of silk count the hairs that veiled her friend's mons venenis.
Marjie turned round like a high-paid model showing off the latest Dior creation. She was pleased with herself.
"Gods, Beck," she said at last, "I wish to hell you'd change your mind and come along. You'd have a ball."
"No," Becky replied determinedly. "I don't like to go to parties. Really, I don't. I always end up sitting by myself in a corner somewhere, and--I'd just rather not," she added quickly, afraid she was lapsing into self-pity.
"Jeezus!" Marjie exploded. "What kind of parties do you go to, where you wind up all by yourself? Undertakers' conventions?"
"Just parties," Becky mumbled, drawing her legs together and pulling them up onto the bed beneath her hips. Marjie sat down facing her.
"What's wrong, kid?" she asked consolingly. "You got the curse?"
Becky shook her head.
"You're missing a lot of fun," the other girl assured her.
"Look," Becky said suddenly. "I really appreciate your being so nice to me, but I know that I'm not very nice-looking, and I'd just--"
"Horseshit!" Marjie yelled, in a voice so loud it must have rattled every loose object in Bentley Hall. "Who says you're not nice-looking?"
"Everybody," Becky replied softly. "I'm too tall, too skinny--"
Marjie's eyes darted to the ceiling. She clenched her fist. "God," she said, "if you're listening right now, I want you to strike some dump called Fayetteville. Strike it with lightning or the Black Plague or whatever you might have handy. Right now." She stood up, hand extended toward Becky. "Come here," she said authoritatively, and the blonde girl went with her. They stood in front of the mirror.
"Okay," Marjie said, standing behind Becky. "What do you see?"
"Just me," Becky replied. "And you, behind me, of course."
Marjie's hands snaked to Becky's front and the girl saw her blouse buttons being undone. She raised her hands to prevent this intrusion, but Marjie's fingers were too quick for her. Before Becky could make any effective resistance, Marjie had unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off her shoulders. Next Marjie unfastened the waistband of Becky's bellbottoms and they fell to the floor. Becky felt embarrassed, standing before the mirror in her underwear, but she felt even more abashed when Marjie unhooked her bra. Resigning herself to the shame that would follow when Marjie had seen her totally nude, she let the breast-covering be removed and after that her white panties.
"Now look at yourself," Marjie commanded, "and this time I'll tell you what you see. A lovely blonde girl, without an ounce of flab in her body." Fingers lay softly for a moment on Becky's rib cage, admiring the tautness of skin. Marjie's eyes were pensive for a passing second, and then she reached for a comb on the vanity before them. Her fingers flew as she swept the comb through Becky's hair, re-arranging the blonde tresses subtly yet effectively. Recognition began to dawn in Becky's eyes as she watched her hair being styled anew.
When Marjie was finished, when her face gleamed back at her, framed between a subtly different swirl of hair, it seemed to Becky that she was looking at another girl altogether. The new hair style seemed to add splendor, grace,
"You look nice," Marjie corrected. "But that's only a placebo--you know, a sugar pill that you take thinking it's medicine. You were gorgeous before I touched your hair, and I don't believe you didn't know it. My Gods, Becky, you look like a fashion model--a high-class model, the kind who show up in Mademoiselle. You've got a body like a ballerina. I mean, if I were gay, I could really go for you."
She stepped back, smiling as Becky's eyes began to understand the meaning of what they saw in the polished mirror. "You really didn't know it--did you? You never looked at yourself till just now." Her head shook in wonderment. "What the hell kind of line did those guys back in Fayetteville give you, anyway?"
Becky was still marveling in her moment of discovery. Her voice seemed strangely distant in her ears as she spoke. "Just what I told you," she said.
"Christ!" Marjie blurted. "What kind of girls do they go for, anyway?"
"Girls with well-developed bodies--short, cute girls--"
"Girls like me," Marjie said resignedly. "Big tits, big asses, big slices. I guess they've all been fucking those cows in the field so long, they think women should look like that, too. God, Beck, I'd give anything to look like you. To be tall and slim--not thin, damn it, just slim!--with tits that were just made to be cupped in a guy's hands, an ass that doesn't slide all over the place when a guy puts his fingers on it. Jeez." She walked away, head still slinking.
"Sure you won't come to the party?" she asked. Then, "What am I saying that for? If you go, who will bother with a chunky broad like Marjie Martin?"
It was obvious that Becky wasn't listening. Narcissicism had hit her like a stone to the side of the head and she was lost in the world of her own self-awakening. Marjie smiled, mentally reminding herself that when she had been a Girl Scout some years ago, she had forgotten to do a good deed one day. This had surely made up for that lapse.
"See you later, Beck," she said, her fingers touching the doorknob. "And there'll be other parties, and by God, you're gonna go the next time I ask you." Or I'll make you think you're ugly again, she snickered to herself, and with a flounce of her short see-through skirt she was gone.
CHAPTER FIVE
When the other girl had gone, Becky still stood in front of the mirror, unable yet to believe what she was seeing. She knew Marjie was wrong, of course. It was the new hair style that had done It. She was sure that when she recombed her hair in the fashion traditional with her, the momentary illusion of beauty would be gone, vanished like puffs of smoke.
And she could prove it easily. The comb lay within bet reach. Straighten out the clever teases and curls Marjie had given her and once more she would see the same, plain old Becky. Her fingers extended, tempting themselves with that comb, but she could not bring herself to touch it, to apply it to her hair. She didn't want to rob herself of this grand illusion, this new revelation of what she could have been.
A hand went to her face, touched exploringly the tight young flesh stretched across sinuous young bones. She rubbed her chin, felt the slimness of her neck. A finger slid along her collarbone, rubbed her upper chest. She looked into the mirror deeply, studying the small rounded mounds of her tits, noting carefully--indeed, for the first time--the jaunty uptilt of her nipples, small and pink, the areolae slightly larger than a nickel, the points perky and somewhat redder than the field from which they grew. She touched her nips, took each teat in its turn between thumb and middle finger, Sighed thoughtfully as she felt them become rubbery-stiff in her exploring hold. Now they pointed with a vengeance, she thought, and the press of a finger to their extensions sent quivers of strange feeling all through her body.
Curiously she turned halfway round, looking sideways at her profiled image in the mirror. Her hair fell in newly discovered curling swirls as far as her shoulder blades, and she could see clearly the definitely rakish thrust of her breasts, capped as they were by now-erected little nipples. She studied the curve of her back, the demure but sensuous swelling of her young hips, the smoothness of her belly as it curved in to compensate for the thrust of her ass. She saw, for the first time as it were, the clever shapeliness of her slim thighs, the languid lines of her calves, the dainty protrusion of reddish-gold pubic hair from the juncture of her crotch.
Desperately anxious to know the truth about herself for once and all, Becky turned frantically to the front once more and seized with determined hands the comb before her. Hastily, demonically, she dragged it through her hair, rearranging her tresses as they had been before. Her eyes widened when she had finished. She stared like one possessed, searching the image before her in the burnished mirror, unable to believe what she saw.
It wasn't the coiffure Marjie had given her! Even now, seeing herself in the same, dull old hairdo she had worn all her teenage years, Becky knew that she was indeed beautiful! To see herself now was like seeing a stranger, but a stranger worth beholding. How could she have missed it, all these years? Dropping the comb to the floor and shaking her head so that her hair fell upon her shoulders in unkempt disarray, Becky whirled before the mirror, improvising a dance on the spot from the deepest reaches of her suddenly awakened inner sell. She spun round the room, keeping herself always in sight of that new spectator she had learned to love. Her breasts didn't flop and sag when she moved, she thought madly. They rose and fell as she breathed and gestured, but they didn't sag a fraction. They were beautiful! Everything was beautiful! She was beautiful! The winter was over, the sun bad shone down, and in a lonely forsaken garden a flower had bloomed!
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In love with her own loveliness, Becky began spiritedly to mimic Marjie's preparations for an evening out. She posed before the mirror, unable to break the visual contact with her fair reflection, took the bottle of expensive perfume and, throwing caution to the wind, daubed the scented fragrance on her own pink nipples. The stiff tips rolled rubbery as she dabbled them and sent a message of thanks to her brain center. She rubbed them again and again, enjoying the tautness of their thrust. The heady aroma of Marjie's perfume was intoxicating, and it was with reluctance that she decided at last that her nipples were sufficiently scented and so let her finger give the same treatment to her cleavage. A tingle spread throughout her as a finger stroked her breastbone, and wickedly she applied a fresh sprinkling to her applicator digit.
It slipped down her belly, charged with the lovely tangy incense, and darted into the clump of bush. It roved along the lips of her cunt. Becky smeared the perfume into her crotch, stroked her labia long after the coating of scented oils had all rubbed off on her body, relishing now the feeling of her finger touching her pussy opening. A sensation she could not explain or describe swept over her then, and she spread her thighs ever so slightly as she quivered in delight.
Becky's finger slipped into her opening twat and she felt the constricting lips close round her digit like a steel trap. No matter. She had no wish to remove just then the object that had intruded into her womanly orifice. Memories of that incredible sense of fullness she had experienced when Ted's cock was in her stole back upon Becky's consciousness, and she imagined for--a moment that her finger was itself a probing prick, just inserted between her lips. She straightened the finger and, careful of the nail it bore, slid it up her tunnel, wincing deliciously as her not-to-be controlled fingernail did indeed scrape tentatively the unbearably delicate flesh of her cuntal channel. She began to work it like a corkscrew, round and round in ever increasing circles, digging more and more deeply, and then, just as she was looking into the mirror, she saw her face go black and red and purple and green and blue and last of all pale and pink and startled.
Something inside her had caused her to explode like a rocket firecracker on the fourth of July. Her pussy gushed moisture round her still-inserted finger, and she wondered if she bad inadvertently pissed herself, but no--there was no urine smell, and besides it wasn't that kind of wetness. Her shoulders and breasts shook uncontrollably and her knees were so weak she didn't think she could stand up another minute. Trembling mightily she sank onto the nearest object of support, Marjie's bed. Her finger still lay wedged inside her body.
Becky lay back, her shoulders braced against the soft mattress, her legs drawn up at the knees, heels braced against the slim round cushions of her ass. Her thighs were held apart, and her cunt lay open, pronged by that questing finger. What had she done to herself?
The only way to find out was to try it again, this time taking careful attention. Prepared for anything now, she once more instigated the corkscrew action that had led to such a surprising development, and as she worked her finger in and out, she burrowed in ever-increasing orbits of attack.
Oh God!! She had done it again. Once more the flesh of her knuckle had touched something--something she hadn't even known was in there--and her twat streamed wet and gooey round the stiff finger. It felt so good! She tried it again, and this time when she made that sensational contact it seemed as if her ass were jerking up and down on the bed, hips shoving that tingling unknown against her finger to perpetuate the wanton stimulation. My God, she suddenly thought. Her ass was indeed jerking up and down on the mattress, and her finger was jammed all the way it could reach into her pussy. But it didn't seem to be enough.
She straightened another finger and this time without so careful and delicate a prelude, shoved it into her cunt right beside the other finger. This was her middle digit, and it was longer than the other one already present, and when it had imbedded itself fully, a finger tip plumbed her slightly deeper than before, stimulating an untouched area of her pussy.
The tightness was something else, she decided, feeling her cuntal sheath squeezing round the two inserted fingers, but it was nowhere near so constricted as when Ted had jammed his cock up her with no mercy. After a moment of accommodation to the new presence, she began to work her wrist in a circle, burrowing both fingers round and round inside her cunt. Oh God!!! Now both knuckles had hit that tenderly agonizing whatever inside her, and her pussy was so wet that there was no longer any tightness round the two inserted fingers.
She had to see what it was, find out what was causing her to feel so wickedly, sinfully ecstatic!
Becky bent herself forward and, withdrawing her fingers, used both hands to spread wide the velvet lips of her young cant. Her honeypit opened in delightful folds, all soft and pink. She could see the daintiest little nubbin of flesh inside her slit, near its upper end--a nubbin of girl flesh she had never noticed before, though, sticking out now as it was, she wondered how she could ever have overlooked it. Was that the mysterious something she had brushed into life? She rubbed it with her thumb and immediately spasmed into shuddering delight. Her thighs of their own will clamped tight around her hand, holding that stroking thumb against the raw and sensitive point of flesh that seemed to control her every emotion. Agonized by the tenderness that her thumb was outraging, she shook and trembled and ground her thighs tighter together. Now she was bent almost double, living only for the feeling that swept throughout her body as her thumb hit that button again and again. Fighting against the constriction of her locked thighs, she managed to insert two fingers up her hole. They slid in easily, aided by the surprising wetness of her, and as she thumbed again and again at her new-found new-made friend, her fingers were jacking in and out of her goodie box.
She was all slick and wet inside and her eyes seemed to be frozen. Images blurred In front of her and waves of blackness swept back and forth in her consciousness. Her heart was jumping as if it meant to beat its way through the flesh of her chest, and her mouth gaped open as she sucked air into her body in gasping gulps.
Weird and terrible feelings oppressed her. She remembered as clearly as if it were happening right now the moment when Ted had forced her to the ground and shoved his cock into her unprotected, previously unpenetrated vagina. In driving her fingers up her cant, she found memories of the heavy brutal thrusts of his prick. But he had done to her was nothing at all like this. He had been rough and cruel and brutal and savage, and she had been frightened and tight and unwilling. But even Ted's brutal fucking had grown almost bearable after a while--not pleasant, of course, for the shoving of his cock in and out of her dry and trembling cunt had been agony for the longest time. Even so, as her slot grew more and more accustomed to the presence of his dick in its narrow tunnel, there had been an almost comfortable feeling, like the satiety of a hearty Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma Ryan's.
And now, as she thrust again and again into her wet canal, thumbed madly at her loving nub of raw nerve-ends, she knew that this, this was what life was all about! Not only had she come in this evening to discover that she was truly a beautiful girl, she had also learnt that her beautiful body was capable of feelings and emotions and reactions she had never guessed at in all her eighteen years of life.
And her heart pounded faster, ever faster, till she was positive it would burst her body asunder and pump its way out of the dorm, across the campus, and on into space indefinitely, forever, and her thumb continued its demonic bout of rubbing and touching and twiddling and diddling, her fingers still driving in and out, in and out, in and out...
A shuddering gasp burst from her throat and Becky knew that she was dying and she went limber and loose at once in expectation of the touch of the Angel of Death. Her body straightened itself out after a fashion, though she lay limp and pliable as a dishcloth, and her fingers slid from her cunt on a track made of drenched pussywalls, and her thumb fell idle and her heart skipped its pace for a moment, then braked itself hard and slowed down to a tempo more nearly normal, though still fast, and she lay on her side, sopping wet from her sweat, her cunt dripping juices whose fragrant feminine aroma filled the confines of the room, her breath slower, more measured, like long-held sighs.
She rolled over onto her back after what seemed like an eternity. Her arms flopped weakly over the sides of the bed and she lay there in a crucifixion pose, legs folded over at the knees, arms outstretched, a look of fulfillment, a smile of satisfaction covering her face. She was beautiful--the world was beautiful--life was beautiful--and, most important of all, her cunt was beautiful and it could do such beautiful things!
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Becky dreamed that Marjie stood beside her then, smiling beatifically, saying words whose tenor she could not grasp in her present condition. A low "Ummm," hummed In thrilling husky tones that tingled her voice box, sounded from Becky's mouth, and she brought her hands up to rest on her tummy, squeezing herself, her heels digging into the bed as she flexed her body like a tawny, slinky cat. Gradually she became aware that Marjie's hand lay upon her shoulder.
"Oh, God", she whispered, her face scarlet from shame, as she looked up into the face of her roommate. How much bad Marjie seen? What would she think?
Marjie sat beside her, the plump and almost uncovered swell of her full hip touching Becky's side. She put a soft hand on her roommate's golden hair.
"Feel better now, Beck?" she asked in a voice that signified her complete understanding.
Becky averted her eyes from Marjie's searching stare, horrorstruck that she was no longer alone. Words failed her.
"Hey, come on, kid," Marjie teased. "You don't have to be embarrassed. We all do that once in a while. If I bad a nickel for every time I've diddled my box, well--let's just say I'd have a lot of nickels." She laughed and caught Becky's chin in her hand, pulling the abashed girl's face round once more.
"I don't have to ask you if it was good," Marjie noted. "Tell me, Beck," she went on, her eyes studying the blonde girl carefully. "Are you a virgin?"
Becky went crimson. Her eyes closed, for she could not turn her head away. "Not exactly," she whispered. "There was this guy I used to date, back in high school, and--"
"I get it," Marjie smiled. "You only did it with your steady."
"No, no," Becky protested. "That's not how it was at all." She breathed deeply, summoning up her courage to discuss the shame, feeling for some strange reason relief that at last she could bring herself to speak of it. "You see, we never did anything while we were going together--just kiss sometimes, and maybe I'd let him touch me once in a while. But I broke up with him just before I came up here, and he got so mad, he--he--he raped me!" There! the cruel callous words had been said.
Marjie's eyes went wide in horror. "The son of a bitch!" she yelled, getting to her feet and stomping round the room, first striking her soft plump thigh. "The lousy son of a bitch!" She stopped short and hurried to Becky's side once more. The lovely blonde girl lay frankly nude now. She saw no point in covering the body Marjie had already seen, to fold her thighs over the pussy Marjie had seen while watching her masturbate to the height of passion.
"Come on," Marjie said. "Get your ass off my bed and find some clothes. You're going to a party tonight, whether you like it or not."
Becky arose from the bed like a zombie. "I'd have to get cleaned up," she said. "I smell terrible."
"You smell great," Marjie smiled, "but I think you should take a real quick shower. If you walked in there tonight with that come-scent all over you, the orgy would start right then, and none of the other girls would stand a chance of getting a guy. No need to put all your cards on the table, you know."
Sparkling clean from the shower, with antiperspirant sprayed under her arms, some of Marjie's perfume touched ever so lightly to the tips of her breasts, to the point of her chin, to the insides of her thighs, Becky sat on the room's desk chair, nude, awaiting Minnie's verdict on the contents of her wardrobe.
Marjie, cursing like a longshoreman under her breath, examined frilly dresses, modest pantsuits, culottes, and cast them all aside. "Jesus, Beck," she said at last, "don't you have any clothes that were made to flatter your bod? Let me think." She looked at a tag inside a pantsuit. This size fits you, right?" Becky nodded. "Okay," Marjie went on. "Back In a sec." She raced out of the room and Becky could bear her scuttering down the hall.
In a few minutes Marjie had returned, accompanied by a girl from another room. Becky didn't know her name, but she had passed the girl in the ball once or twice. She was about Becky's size, but her breasts were very small and her hips almost skinny.
"Beck, this is Marilyn. She's in 113. I think she'll fit into that jumpsuit of yours. What do you say?"
Marilyn nodded, her eyes appraising Becky's slim figure. "She's got more in the tit department that I have, though. It'll be tight around the chest."
"So much the better," Marjie snickered. "Why don't you go get it, kid?" she added, and Marilyn went out the door. She turned to Becky. "You know," she smiled, "I came back because I forgot my key and I didn't want to have to wake you up to let me in. And I turn out being the fairy godmother getting Cinderella ready for the party. Kid, you lucked out when you drew me for a roomie."
And then Marilyn was back, a lovely nylon jumpsuit across her arm. She came to Becky, holding It out, and the blonde girl took it. Becky repressed a desire to point out that the material was thin and translucent, for she suddenly knew that even though it was more daring than any clothing she had ever worn before, she wanted to wear it tonight. Tonight was the first night of the new Becky Ryan's life, and this seemed just the thing to declare that fact to the world.
Becky reached for a clean bra but Minnie's hand stayed hers.
"No," Marjie smiled. "Those tits of yours don't need support. The only thing a bra does is cover them up, and they sure as hell don't need that, either." Becky dropped the bra.
She wriggled into a pair of opaque bikini panties, fearful least Marjie reject these undergarments as well, but her roomie made no protest. Next Becky stepped into the jumpsuit, noted how well its lime green color went with her looks. She zipped up the front, straining a little to close it over her high and proud breasts. Last of all she fastened the built-in belt round her hips.
"It's beautiful on you, Beck," Marilyn smiled unselfishly, wishing even as she spoke that it looked half so nice on her.
Becky was deliciously shocked to note that her pink nips were almost clearly visible under the thinness of the top. They weren't on public display the way Marjie's were, but the careful observer would be rewarded with distinct glimpses of the little circles if he only looked hard enough. And she could see the outline of her low-riding panties beneath the lower portion of the suit. The material fit her legs snugly to the knees, and she seemed to sense their shapeliness even more than she had tonight observing herself in the nude.
"Only one thing," Marilyn said with a grin. "Don't get anything on it. Please."
"Oh, I'll be real careful," Becky promised, reminding herself to use a napkin if she was offered any food at the party.
"She'll take good care of it," Marjie interjected. "Besides, once those guys get a look at her, I don't think she'll be able to keep it on very long. It's just to get her there and get her home."
"Okay," Marilyn smiled. "Have a nice time, kids, and if there's any guys left over, why not bring a couple home for me?"
CHAPTER SIX
"You've got your keys, haven't you, Beck?" Marjie suddenly asked as the two girls walked along the street en route to the house where the party would be held. "I came back to get mine, and would you believe, 1 forgot them?"
Becky wasn't paying much attention. Her eyes kept stealing down her front to gaze at the tantalizing exposure of her nipples. She wondered if the guys at the party would think she was just a slut for showing herself off. And she was once more afraid. Even though she knew that in her own eyes she was truly lovely, she wondered if the people at the party would think she was funny-looking. How had she let Marjie talk her into going? It was all because of the weakness of her mind, of her inhibitions, all the result of that incredible moment in which she had first let her finger slide into her young pussy and discovered the joys of which it was capable.
It was dark by now, and the streets of town were full of young college students celebrating their return to campus. Becky's spirits jumped considerably as she realized that guys were actually staring at her and Marjie when they strode past. Her chin lifted, and she drew her shoulders back, raising the angle of her breasts under the thin fabric of the jumpsuit top. She had once dreamed that perhaps going to college might mean the start of a whole new life for her, but now she was beginning to think her dream might indeed come true.
The walk was a long one, but Becky was in splendid condition and it didn't leave her panting the way it did her plump roommate. Marjie stopped to catch her breath at the near end of the block the party was on, and she spoke to Becky.
"Listen to me, doll," she said, "and listen close. Okay, I dragged you out of the dorm and made you come with me tonight. I did it because I thought you needed to kill that inferiority complex those assholes back in your home town stuck you with. But understand this before you go in. These kids are with it, and they may seem kinda wild to you. There'll be dope and booze and probably kids going upstairs to ball every now and then. But they're not animals. Nobody is gonna make you do anything you don't wanta do. Anybody gives you a hard rush or a rough time, tell me and I'll make sure his ass gets thrown out. So have a good time tonight and"--she smiled--"let your conscience be your guide."
Marjie tapped on the door and it opened to them. Even before they had stepped onto the porch of the small rented house, Becky had been able to hear the music playing inside. It was loud rock, and the rhythms set her toes tapping.
"Come on in," said a tall guy with long hair. Becky realized suddenly that this was the boy she had seen Marjie with last night in the dorm room, and she tingled delightedly with wicked knowledge as she shook his hand. Marjie introduced him as Jerry.
The living room was lit by a dozen enormous candies set here and there, and it was, or at least seemed to be, full of bodies sprawled there, there and everywhere--on the couch, on the floor. When her eyes had grown accustomed to the dimness of the light, Becky saw that there were no more than perhaps fifteen people here.
She sniffed suddenly. There was a strange sweetish aroma in the air, intermixed with tobacco smoke and the scented candles. Her eyes drifted hither and thither. She could see now that people were clustered in small groups and that each group was passing a strange object back and forth among its members. They were smoking it, and it appeared to be a pipe, but it certainly didn't look like the old briar Ted's father used to favor. Angrily she dismissed Ted and his father and everything else in Fayetteville from her mind.
Marjie and Jerry were walking across the floor to join one of the groups, and Becky, not knowing what else to do, followed them. She eased herself onto the floor beside Marjie, thankful inside that the light was too dim to reveal how visible her tits were in the borrowed outfit.
Marjie introduced her round the circle. There was Jerry, of course, and there was Sam, who shared the house with him. They were both juniors and had that romantic long-haired look so common on campuses today. And there was Jerry's cousin Bill, who was a freshman too, and with him a pretty girl with very long hair. Her name was Cathy and she had remarkable haunted eyes, deep-set in her head, that seemed as if they could bore a hole right through you when she stared your way. Cathy was a senior in the high school here in Henderson. That shocked Becky very much, even though she was only a year older herself. When she'd been a high school senior she'd never have dreamed of coming to a party like this where drugs were being used. Indeed, she very nearly hadn't come tonight at all.
Sam leaned across the circle and handed Becky the pipe. She looked at it wonderingly, touched the brass bowl and pulled her finger away very quickly. The metal was hot.
"I'll light it for you," Sam smiled. "You can have the first bit off this batch. It's our best."
Becky looked at him as he struck a match and lifted his hand to poise it above the pipe bowl. She looked at the pipe, noted the thin blades of marijuana in its loaded chamber. It hovered at her lips. The match was drawing nearer. Her eyes flickered to Marjie and the message she saw there seemed clear enough: Go ahead. It won't hurt you. Honest. So said her roomie's face. Becky put the pipe stem in her mouth. She knew that she had to puff on it to cause the flame to catch, so she puffed.
"No," Sam grinned. "Not like that. You gotta take a hit and suck it all the way into your belly." He took the pipe and toked heavily. "Like this," he said, speaking around the inhaled grass. His words were tight-throated and very soft.
"It's just like getting flicked," Cathy volunteered. "It's no good unless you've got it all the way in." She giggled and collapsed against Bill's arm. His hand cupped one of her large tits through her weather-beaten sweatshirt. She giggled again and rose with him. Her hand around his waist, his on her tit, they made their way up the stairs at the back of the room.
"Here," Sam was telling her. "You wanna try it again?"
Becky took the pipe. The puffs she had taken had really given her no idea what marijuana was like, beyond the taste on the tip of her tongue. She looked to Marjie for guidance.
A hand rested on Becky's soft shoulder. Marjie smiled and said, "If you wanna do it, go ahead. It won't kill you and it won't make you a hard mainlining junkie. But if you don't wanna do it, don't. It's your choice, Beck."
"Hasn't she ever smoked before?" she heard Jerry ask in a lowered voice, as if this were the strangest thing imaginable.
Becky made her decision. She put the pipe in her mouth again and sucked hard at the glowing load of grass, drew it into her mouth, deep into her lungs, all the way to the pit of her belly. She held it as long as she could, and when she released it almost no surplus smoke came from her lips.
"Good hit," Jerry said approvingly.
Becky tried to speak but her mouth was very, very dry. She made a croaking noise and Marjie spoke up quickly.
"She needs something to drink." Then to Becky, "It usually happens the first time or two you smoke. Nothing to worry about."
A glass materialized in front of Becky, containing a dark reddish liquid. She took it with thanks and drank a hearty swallow. It was sweet and tangy but she couldn't place the taste. "Ummm," she said. "This is good. What is it?"
"Boone's Farm," Sam said. Then, seeing that she didn't follow him, added, "Wine. Alcoholic soda pop, somebody called it."
So, she thought brazenly, tonight Becky Ryan turns into a real slut after all. Not only was she wearing a suit that exposed her nipples to anyone who cared to look, she had also taken her first puff of marijuana and her first drink of alcoholic beverage. Funny. She still felt the same Becky inside. A little daring, perhaps, but these people didn't seem to think anything of it. And, she thought with a start, what about those kids who went upstairs. I'll bet they're fucking each other. Right now!
The pipe had been smoked out and Becky was on her second glass of wine. Jerry and Marjie were nowhere to be seen, but Becky was much more interested in talking to Sam. He had such fascinating things to say. He was the first person she had ever met who thought President Nixon was unfit to hold office, and she listened with wide eyes to his explanations of why he held such opinions. And he knew all about music, too! He told her about groups she'd never heard of, singers who created beautiful songs that were unsung as far as she was concerned.
"Listen," he said. "There." A country singer was on the record player right now. He had a masculine baritone voice and an instrumental backup that was nearly as much folk as country and western. "That's the guy I mentioned," Sam explained. "Tom T. Hall. He can tell you more about life in two and a half minutes than any of the politicians in Washington or any preacher anywhere can in a year."
Becky listened to the song very carefully. Her parents had never cared for country music, and she had never been exposed to it. Now she was paying close attention to the lyrics, for the melody was little more than a vehicle for recitation. It was about a small-time country singer who has just come home for a short visit with his father, and in the course of the song she could see, plain as sudden lightning, how with a few deft images, Hall had laid bare the whole empty pattern of the young man's life. She knew as she listened that the singer he was writing about would never be any more than a small-time has-been (or never-was), breaking off ties with what had meant most to him at one time in pursuit of a success he could never find.
"That's really beautiful," she said thoughtfully when the song had ended. "I've never beard anything quite like that."
"Hall is really great," Sam agreed. "I don't agree with everything he has to say, but you can't get around his talent. Haven't you ever heard of him before?"
Becky shook her head. "Has he been around very long?"
"Six or seven years anyway. Hey, tell you what. If nobody's in my bedroom, come on up. I've got a little stereo up there, and most of my records, and I'll play you some more of his stuff. Okay?"
"I'd love to hear some more of his things," she smiled, and she followed him up the stairs. He tapped on the door and there was no answer, so she commented, "I guess there mustn't be any occupants."
"Guess not," he agreed, and they went inside. Sam turned on the light and began to rummage through a pile of record albums on the floor, coming up with several LPs. He set up his record machine and put one on to play. It was Tom T. Hall again, and Becky found comfort in the resonant, rural quality of his strong voice. Sam Indicated for her to sit down on his bed, and she did. He nestled on the floor beside her dangling feet, taking from his pocket the pipe and a plastic bag filled with what she now knew was marijuana.
"Like some wine, too?" he asked. She nodded, for she had grown fond of the taste of the new liquid, so Sam got up and went out. He came back in a moment with a bottle dripping wet and cold. "We don't need glasses," he volunteered. "We can just take hits back and forth. Its no less sanitary than a communal pipe, is it?" She giggled in reply and be handed her the bottle.
As they shared the pipe and wine, time seemed to enter a new dimension for Becky. Hall's voice, too, was a part of that new consciousness. Sometimes he seemed to be singing very fast, almost like a cartoon chipmunk, sometimes very slowly, like a tolling cathedral bell. Strangest of all, though, she never lost track of what he was saying in his songs. She giggled properly when he sang about a monkey that became president, giggled even more when Sam, at her feet, said "That's a true story-it happened in 1968 and 1972." She felt a shiver of identification, she knew not why, when he sang a long story about a man who got tired of being ridiculed by his neighbors and one day took a gun and went out and shot seven of them. And she felt closest of all to Tom T.'s songs about women--"Ravishing Ruby," the truck stop waitress who was only looking for a father in the men she drifted among; or Pamela Brown, the girl who didn't marry the narrator of one song and so left him free to do all the exciting things he'd found himself able to do. Would Ted think about her someday and cast her in similar recollection? She hoped not. She hoped he kicked himself in the ass every day for the rest of his life, thinking what a bastard he was to do what he did to her.
Strange how she was feeling. Her bead was light and giddy, and even though her throat wasn't dry she kept on gulping at the bottle Sam handed her from time to time. Her belly felt all warm and tingly inside, and her brain was dancing a gavotte to the music of a faraway orchestra.
And Hall was singing now about a beautiful girl married to a man whose brain had collapsed on him, and there wasn't a trace of criticism in his voice as ho told about how she gave her heart to Jethro and her body to everyone else. Something in his words, something the girl is supposed to say, about how her body was Jethro's but--how did she say it?--her God-given body was all hers--Becky suddenly empathized very closely with the song. She took another long deep toke on the pipe, and another, and another....
*
*
*
*
The only music playing now was somewhere in her mind. She was lying back on the bed, her feet hanging over the edge, and the record player was silent, and Sam was lying next to her. His prick lay like a long soft snake, crawled through his zipper opening. Its head pointed toward her. Awareness hit her slowly. His hand was stroking her soft hair, petting it like a beautiful kitten, and his head was close to hers. She had her hand on his chest, just rubbing at his shirt front.
The effect of what she had smoked and drunk was wearing off now, and she looked around her in surprise. Her eyes fell upon his exposed penis and she stiffened in fright. Sam's hand, lying on her tresses, felt the change in her body attitude and his stroking fell off.
"What's wrong?" he asked in a low husky voice.
"Your thing," she whispered. "You've got it out!"
"Correction," he suggested. "You've got it out. I didn't lay a finger on it"
She went goggle-eyed. "Me?" she said in a voice almost too soft and low to hear.
"You."
"What on earth for?"
"You said something about your God-given body being your own. I figured you wanted to play with it, so I let you fish it loose."
"Did I--play with it?" she asked breathlessly.
"A little."
Becky clutched both hands across her breasts. Her mind was in an uproar. Could she have done such a thing of her own volition? A stranger--a boy she'd lust met this evening--take his penis out of his pants and--finger and fondle it? Becky Ryan? Suspicion clouded her thoughts. Was he lying to her? Was he trying to take advantage of her when she was not in control of herself? Marjie had promised her that no one would dare try such a thing, but Sam lived here. Who would throw him out if he misbehaved? More likely it would be presumptuous of Becky, the party guest, who would be tossed out on her ear for rejecting the overtures of her host.
"Are you telling me the truth?" she demanded, a slight tinge of hostile suspicion flavoring her trembling voice. "Did I really?"
"Stay cool, Beck," he smiled. "Marjie caught me when I was downstairs getting the wine, and she told me that if I tried any dirty stuff with you, she'd cut my balls off with a dull knife. I've got plans for using those things the rest of my life, so I wouldn't try to cross her on anything. Besides, I like you too. I didn't bring you up here to try for a piece. If you wanta go, it's okay with me. I mean, you were out of it for a while and I just went along with you."
Becky was touched by what he said. She pulled gently at the front of his shirt once more. "Honest?"
"Honest," he smiled. "And by the way. You don't have to worry about whether guys think you're ugly. They sure as hell don't. And not all of us are like the one Marjie told me about." He saw the look on her face and followed hastily with, "I'm sorry, Beck--I didn't mean to bring up nasty memories."
"It's all right," she said. "It doesn't bother me any more. Say," she went on. "Would you mind very much if I did--kinda--play with your thing?" And before he could answer yes or no, she bad taken the limp snake between thumb and forefinger, bouncing it up and down, giggling at its flopping.
"Do you want to?" he asked warningly.
"I think so," she replied, her fist closing round his cock as she felt it respond to her caresses. It began to stiffen in her grip, it grew harder, longer, thrusting out of her clench like a proud tree. It was warm in her hand, yet with the stiffness of wood. Inquisitively she let her fist slide up and down its shaft.
A droplet of come appeared in the slit at the tip of his cockhead. It looked just like water as it hung there before sliding its way down the underside of his prick to drip on Becky's thumb.
"Are you gonna shoot out all that stuff?" she asked.
He nodded. "If you keep that up very long I sure will."
"Golly," Becky giggled like a schoolgirl. "Marilyn will shoot me if I get it all over her jumpsuit. Maybe I better take it off." And with that she released his cock, got to her feet, and put a finger to the zipper that ran down the front of the borrowed outfit. Leisurely she pulled the zipper down, opening the front of her costume; then just as leisurely she slipped the garment off her shoulders, baring her young tits to his gaze. He whistled as he saw them, his eyes lighting as they took in the pink perfection of her nipples. She worked her way out of the jumpsuit and, clad in her panties alone, returned to the bed.
His hands touched her tentatively, rubbing the smooth pink of her shoulders, sliding down her ribs, cupping her slim waist. He stroked her belly between navel and panty waistband, and felt her thrusting against him as he did so. Through the thin white nylon of her undies he drew a hand across the tightness of her high young ass, marveled at its springy resilience. Sam touched her bared thighs, tickled a fingertip along their inner curves, making her laugh sweetly with the stimulation.
Last of all he dared reach a finger to her tits. His finger aimed for the pink nipple of her left breast, halted tantalizingly just beyond its point, then knew wondrous joy as he felt her nip extending itself to touch ever so softly the ball of his finger. Admiringly he let a palm cup that breast then, hoisting its perfect orb.
"God," he sighed. He couldn't stop himself then. His head dipped, kissed a nipple, then sucked the point into his mouth. He nursed her dry tit, leaving little drops of saliva on the pink when he pulled away.
"Do you like them?" she whispered.
"Uh-huh," he confirmed.
"They're not too little?"
"Anything over a handful is wasted," he told her. "And yours were just made to be handheld."
And then his mouth covered hers and his body lay partially across hers, the shirt he wore rubbing her bare chest, his pocket buttons twiddling her nipples. She quivered and squirmed, digging her ass into the surface of the bed, shoving her breasts against him hard as she could. Her hands were round his neck, curling his long hair, stroking his spine.
At last he broke away from her lips. "Do you still want me to play with your--cock?" she asked, her lips forming the word that surprised her so much when she said it.
"I can think of something I'd rather do," he answered, hand once more clutching a tit.
Her reply was to unfasten his belt. Sam got the message and he fairly leaped from the bed, clothes falling like autumn leaves in a windstorm. When he rejoined her he was nude, and the only article of clothing between the two of them was the pair of white panties Becky still wore.
"Do you want to?" he asked her, his hands just beginning to tug at her waistband. He wanted her so badly he could taste his lust but be would not force her. If she was willing, they could fuck. If she said no, he would help her dress and take her downstairs as untouched as when she came up.
Becky's head still swam with the wine she had drunk, the weed she had smoked. She put a hand on one of her lovely breasts, felt its rigid nipple. Beneath the white nylon of her panties there was moistness, anticipation. Her eyes blinked a time or two, then shut tightly as she reached a finger to the steel-hard length of Sam's cock. Her finger touched it, rubbed the dark purple head, came away dewy with the droplets of semen that were already appearing from time to time in his ejaculatory opening.
"Yes," she spoke suddenly, "yes, yes, yes!" and she rolled onto her back, thighs open, the flanges of bet cuntal flower opening under the thin guarding veil of her undies. Her crotch was wet, a dark colorless stain dampening her white panties. She felt Sam's fingers tug suddenly at that last barrier, and she raised her ass from the bed to give him assistance in completing the task of undressing her.
His mouth covered hers and he lay atop her, heavy, hard, demanding. She wrapped arms round him and clutched him to her trembling breasts, hoping to still the mad desire that begged now for satisfaction.
Sam broke away from her now, and she reached for him with arms that clung like tendrils, not wanting to lose what he had promised to give her. He sat himself down on the bed, his back against the bedhead, his Legs outstretched, his cock pointing upward like a telephone pole. She crawled to him, and he put his arms on her shoulders and guided her.
"Do it this way," he mumbled, and she let him direct her. Her back to the boy, Becky squatted above his middle, the red point of his cock just touching the blonde fuzz round her pussy. She moved from side to side, teasing his prick with the friction of her cunt hair, giggling excitedly, until she felt his hands-take firm control of her waist. Becky relaxed at once, cooing at his strong touch. He braced one hand on her waist and slipped the other round the shaft of his dick, guiding it to the pink lips of her love tunnel.
She felt the blood-gorged head of him touching her cunt lips, knocking at the door as it were, and she strained to spread herself a little to allow him easy entrance. The petals of her flower parted and his prick began to slide inside her. Becky gasped softly, but the pain she had felt with Ted's rough flicking was absent now. Instead she knew delightful friction as his cockhead teased at her opening slit. It brushed her sensitive pussy lips, made her give a little ticklish trill of enjoyment. Sam didn't have to rape the lovely freshman girl. He was an experienced lover and he knew that fucking was most satisfactory for both partners when it was gentle and unrushed.
With preliminary entrance made, Sam was free to let go his cock. It could find its own way into Becky now that it had been shown the path. He let the released hand slide up Becky's side, to her armpit, rubbing softly the shaven area there. She tightened her arm on his fingers, pressing them into her moist axilla. He fought his way free of her squeeze and worked his fingers round to cup a small lovely breast. She squirmed as he fondled her nipple and teased delicately the underside of her little mound, and her head was swaying from side to side. The tantalization of his partial penetration, of his casually exploring fingers was too much for her.
"Please," she whispered, her lips trembling, spittle forming at the corners of her mouth. "Fuck me now. I can't wait another second."
And before he could react to her sudden demand, she had taken the initiative herself, pressing her body down upon his strong cock. The still-tight lips of her cunt parted as she forced her way down, and there was a momentary thrill of beautiful agony before she could accommodate herself to his presence. And then the agony gave way to glorious sensation.
Her cunt sucked hungrily at the new visitor, drawing it deeper and deeper of its own accord. Becky shoved herself down on Sam, pulling nearly all his length inside her. A joyous shriek burst from her lips as she eased all the way down upon him, embedding him totally inside her vaginal tunnel. She sat upon his cock for a long, long moment, drawing emotion she had never been able to imagine, joy indescribable, as she experienced the presence of his immersion. Juices flowed round the staff of his prick, wetting it, wetting her, and she wiggled upon him to scoot his cock round and round in her lubrication.
"You okay?" Sam asked considerately, his hands still touching her nipples, clutching her waist.
Becky nodded In determination, her hair bouncing up and down with the force of her gesture.
"All right, then," Sam smiled. "Let's go!"
Becky gurgled in surprised excitement then as Sam lurched upward, driving at her. His balls rubbed the splayed slice of her cunt, and she jumped in delight. And beneath her Sam was shoving up and down, trying to imbed himself in her tight cunt. She got the message and started to vibrate and bob on his impalement. He worked his hips in counterpoint to hers, and as she moved up and down, up and down, she felt the rigid shape of his tool moving inside her newly educated pussy.
The tickling sensation that affected her labia whenever he moved was breathtaking, and Becky looked down her front to see her left lit quivering with anticipation as her heart scuttered away Inside her body. She thought madly that the feeling must be closely akin to that of having your foot stroked lightly by a feather for hours on end. And she never wanted it to stop! She jerked herself up and down on his cock, her pussy walls striving to clutch it as tight as possible. Now it was vital that she be stuffed as full as she could be. With Ted the dry tightness had been nigh unendurable, but with Sam she wanted to know that lightness in even more thrilling measure.
Her mouth was open and her breath husking out of her from the fanatic determination with which she fucked herself on Sam's stiff cock. She put her hands on the points of her tits, squeezed the pink nipples viciously, brushed at a drop of saliva that trailed down her chin uncontrollably, laughed loudly, maniacally, as she felt the cock shafting into her almost unused vaginal tract.
Surprise hit Becky like a slap in the mouth when Sam's fingers stole from her waist and crept into the gold fringe of her cant hair below. She sighed and "oohed" at his first darting touch, then opened her mouth in a gasp of excitement as she felt a finger enter the fucked-open gash of her pussy. As Sam's cock screwed in and out, his finger touched roguishly the exposed nub of her clitoris. A shudder swept across her humping body, and each time he felt her love button once more, she fluttered again. Sopping juices were turning her cunt interior to pasty jelly, and every thrust of his prick rubbed against a new nerve, sending a fresh message of rapture to her brain.
Becky pushed her body back against Sam, striving to arch her loins so that he could the more easily caress her love bump. She spread her straddled legs till she feared her slice would burst open, but whether it split or not, she still had to allow him all the more access to her aching clit. Jacking up and down on his stiff prick, presenting like a Christmas gift the raw treasure of her femininity, Becky fucked herself like a madwoman on Sam's jerking cock.
Her eyes drifted round the room, went in and out of focus, settled at last upon the face of Marjie, standing in the door. Becky blinked two or three times to assure herself she was indeed being watched, and when she was sure that Marjie's presence was real and not imaginary, she wheezed out a greeting.
Marjie stepped across the room with a smile. The knit dress she wore swished and swirled round her plump thighs as she approached.
"How's it going, Beck?" she grinned, knowing that her blonde roomie was too far gone to carry on conversation.
Becky panted in reply, squealing suddenly as Sam's fingers rubbed once more the deliciously tender button. His cock was squishing in and out of her wet twat as she jerked up and down on his lap, and she could feel it swelling inside her, just as Ted's had in the moments before it spat its load.
"I'm gonna come," Sam grunted. "I can't hold it back!" and then he jerked upward just as Becky thrust down upon him, and he felt his cock emptying itself. He had no control now. All he could do was to push against her, burying his entire length in the blonde girl's cunt, shoving it at her on each squirt of his hot jism.
Becky hovered on the verge of orgasm. Her heart was leaping and her mind was in turmoil. As Sam emptied himself he continued to rub her clitty, and she knew as she pressed herself down upon his gushing peter that something totally new was about to happen to her.
Marjie stood close by, her face near Becky's, her eyes studying the young girl's strangely distorted features. "Come, Becky, come!" she was whispering hotly. "You can do it! Let go!" She clenched her hands so tightly the nails left imprints on her palms. If Becky didn't come soon, she knew she would jab her finger into the girl's cunt right alongside Sam's. She had to see that Becky got her rocks off too! It was all part of that good deed for which she felt so proud of herself.
Becky gasped, and her heart seemed to stop. Her clit seemed large as a peanut, quivering under Sam's brushing touches, and when he squeezed it suddenly, his cock still hard inside her though it had spilt its load and was now working overtime, she shrieked like a banshee.
She jerked herself upward, uncocking herself at once, feeling the sudden oozing drip of warm wet come from out of her pussy. Becky threw herself forward onto the bed, lying on her stomach, her legs bent upward at the knees, her hands beneath her, rubbing at her tummy, sliding down into the wet patch of golden hair in her delta. She stroked herself as she lay humping her crotch on the fingers, feeling the liquids that flowed from her, liquids that she and Sam had conspired to create, and her face looked toward the wall, seeing nothing. The mighty thumpings of her heart seemed loud as thunder in her ears, but she could hear very clearly the rustle of her hair against the bedsheet as she writhed in ecstasy, and she could hear herself repeating over and over again as she throbbed in the joys of her first partnered orgasm: "My God-given body is my own!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sam walked the girls back to their dorm. He and Marjie chatted cheerfully as they passed along the quiet darkened streets, but Becky was still too full of love and life to do more than mutter an absent minded reply to questions or comments directed to her. Her mouth had nothing to say in the aftermath of what her cunt and Sam's cock had conversed about so thrillingly.
Afterwards in the privacy of their room, she was still walking on air. She undressed for bed, stripping off the clothes she had worn to the party and, clad only in her own blonde hair, lay down upon her sheet. Her heart was singing and her brain was so excited she knew she'd never get to sleep tonight.
"Hey, kid," Marjie was saying at her ear. Becky turned startled eyes to her roommate, looking like one suddenly awakened from a nocturnal ramble.
"Gods, Beck," Marjie went on. "You really did it tonight! I'm proud of you, kid." Becky smiled shyly in response. Marjie slipped out of her dress and panties and lay on her own bed, facing Becky.
"I feel beautiful and sexy and--I just feel like somebody set off dynamite in my heart!" Becky sighed.
"You've got a right to," Marjie observed. "Are you still afraid of guys? Did Sam make up for what that bastard did to you? What was his name, anyway? I forget."
"Whose name?" Becky said.
"The guy who busted you."
"I don't remember," Becky replied dreamily. "I don't care."
"You gonna do it again?" Marjie smiled.
"I don't want to do anything else," Becky gushed. "I want to have a--a cock inside me every day for the rest of my life. All day long, all night long,"
"Got a nine o'clock class tomorrow?"
"No. Why?"
"Cause we're gonna take your ass over to the university clinic and get you on the Pill. If you're planning on doing that much fucking, you'd better make sure you don't get yourself pregnant, with a capital P."
*
* * *
Becky's first week of school passed with little Incident. She had to forego her initial wish for a fuck a day, principally because she didn't really want that. It was just a spontaneous reaction to the beauty of her first real screwing. Besides, she wanted to make sure that she didn't let her grades slip. She'd been a A student in high school and she knew she could do pretty well in college, so the rest of the week saw her in her room every night studying. Sometimes she would be sitting at her desk poring over a textbook, her panties round her pretty ankles, a finger poking in and out of her cunt. And as she read her lessons, the tides of lust would suddenly overwhelm her and she would go into orgasm, wet and sopping. But each time that finger slid up and down her luscious vaginal path she would think about the pleasures that would be hers when next a man's cock penetrated her and filled her with hot viscous juices.
Friday evening she could no longer endure the celibacy she had imposed upon herself. Becky hunted through the campus directory until she found Sam's name, circled his phone number, and rang him up on the telephone in the girls' room.
"Hi," she said when she had him. "This Is Becky."
"Hi, Becky," he replied, his voice sounding a little, rushed, a little breathless.
"I just wondered," she went on, "if you would like to get together tonight. I could come over, or you could come here--"
"Shit," he said. "I'm really sorry, Bock, but I can't. See, the old lady and I are kinda--"
"The old lady?" she interrupted. "You mean your mom?"
"No," he explained. "My old lady. My girl." Her heart sank to the soles of her feet. All week long she had fantasized that her burrowing finger was his raging cock as it probed into her pussy. Now what was he telling her?
"You met her at the party," he added. "Cathy. You know. The cute chick that was smoking with us."
"Cathy?" she said hollowly. "I thought she was Bill's friend."
"No," he said jovially, "she's my girl. We've been together for a couple of years, and once she graduates from high school she's gonna move in with me. Oh," he said suddenly, "I know what got you confused. She went upstairs with Bill. Right? Well, we don't have any chains on each other, see. She wanted to do Bill that night, and I wanted to make it with you. So we did."
"I see," Becky replied.
"Yeah," Sam rejoined. "Well, I gotta go, Beck. Cathy's upstairs in the sack--you know. Say, why don't you and Marjie come over next week. Jerry is gonna score on some really righteous hash, and we can all get stoned."
"Sure," Becky said flat-voiced. "We'll have to do that. See you." And she hung up the phone.
She felt anger, disappointment, rage. It was as though she had been betrayed. Sam had fucked her so very nicely Monday night, and all the while he had been going steady with Cathy, that little bitch with the big tits and the dirty mouth. And to make matters worse, Sam and Cathy weren't oven true to each other! Becky wished she could eject his semen from her cunt right now, drip it onto the floor, grind ft under her heel. She turned round bitterly, fist striking at her thigh.
Plopping down upon her bed, she rested her chin on her palms. She had so counted on fucking Sam again tonight. And he had rejected her, as if she were a dried up syphilitic whore!
Well, the hell with him! she thought suddenly, and then she said ft aloud. "The hell with him!" And fuck him, too. she thought. I don't need him.
But the prospect of staying here alone in the room tonight was too depressing even to contemplate. Margie had gone home this weekend, and she felt even more deserted. At least the two girls could have talked, and Marjie could have commiserated with Becky over her latest betrayal. Was there something about her, she wondered suddenly, that caused men to want to shit all over her? It certainly seemed to be the case.
She could always go sit in the lobby of the dorm and watch girls being picked up by their dates. She might have had a date herself tonight, if she hadn't been counting on another balling from Sam. A guy in her English class had seemed rather interested in her, but she had steered the subject away from "What are you doing Friday night?" because she had other plans. Now, she thought bitterly, she didn't even know the gay's name and she wouldn't see him again till Tuesday morning when class met again.
Becky crawled off the bed and walked into the hail. She bent her head to get a drink at the water fountain, took an extra swallow because it was at least something to do. Then she looked up and down the hail, saw nobody, nothing. She grimaced wryly and began to pace. It wasn't as small as the room but it was just as lonely. She paused by the first-floor bulletin board, scanning the notices there.
Not much to see. She read an advertisement of the campus Catholic student organization, informing the passer-by of mass time at the various churches in town. She read an advertisement placed by a student who would type papers and reports for a small fee. She read an advertisement informing her that a free movie would be shown that evening in the dorm's social room, located in the basement.
Becky bad never heard of the movie but she decided to go. At least she would no longer be alone.
The social room had been converted into a small movie theater when she arrived. Chairs were aligned in rows facing a portable screen, and a 16 millimeter projector sat on a table at the back of the room. There weren't a great many people here--about half the perhaps 100 chairs were occupied--but it was better than sitting in her room feeling defeat and self-pity. Becky took a chair and waited for the show to begin.
It was a nice movie after all, she decided when the lights came up and everyone started filing out. The soundtrack music was performed by Elton John and the story dealt with a couple of teenagers in modern-day France who decided to run away from their stuffy and restrictive home lives. Settling down in a cottage in the south of France, they found themselves falling In love, and in a comically tender sequence of events, conceived a child between them and birthed it without assistance. And all the while Elton John's voice and piano weaved a delicately romantic musical background. Somewhere he sang a line that went more or less: "It's funny how young lovers start as friends," and Becky found herself repeating those words over and over in her mind. She wondered if she would ever find a lover or a friend.
The ending was unusual, at least in her experience. The boy's father had hired detectives to trace him, and the investigators had at last caught his trail. You saw them at the vineyard where the boy worked, and they were showing his picture round, and people were nodding, yes, yes, he works here--he should be in to start the day very soon: and then a cut to the boy and his girl--a childlike brunette, sweet-faced and, Becky noted, larger-breasted than the blonde freshman. The two said goodbye as the boy started on his way to work, and the girl held up the baby and waved its tiny arm at its father; and then still images, close-ups of their faces, appeared side by side on the screen and credit lines superimposed, telling you who they were in real life, and the movie ended. Someone In the audience went "Oh!" In disappointment.
But in the unfinished conclusion Becky found a solace of her own, a relief from the feelings that had impelled her to come to the darkened room where pictures flickered brightly colored on a screen. As the lights came up she sat in her chair, legs crossed neatly, mentally reviewing the various possibilities that might have transpired after the final freeze-frame shots on screen.
There was a voice at her shoulder and she turned to see a boy, more or less her own age she thought, standing beside her.
"What did you think of it?" he repeated.
Becky smiled. "It was pretty," she said. Her eyes scanned his frame, studied his face. He looked nice enough in a boy's way, she decided.
The guy sat down in the chair beside her. "How did the ending grab you?"
"It was different. Most movies seem compelled to tie everything together with a pink ribbon so you won't feel cheated at the end, but this one gave you the chance to be creative on your own. Don't you think so?"
He nodded pensively, as though he were weighing the intellectual balance of her words. "Say," he added quickly, "aren't we in the same psychology class? Dr. Richter's, Monday Wednesday Friday at 3:00?"
Becky shook her head. It was a nice try. She knew she could have him if she wanted him, and although she didn't especially want him, she wanted somebody. Let him squirm a little, she though bitchily. Make him think he's struck out.
There was a long pause and then Becky uncrossed her legs, stretched a little, and made as if to rise. The boy spoke quickly, not wanting to lose her.
"How did you like the music? You know, the Elton John songs?"
"They were lovely," Becky smiled. "I really like him."
"I have the soundtrack album," be said excitedly. "You know, some of the best songs on it, some of the rock tunes, you almost never got to hear in the movie, like the one that was playing on Paul's stereo when his grandmother and half-brother came to visit."
Becky smiled, and she knew she had him. "I'd love to hear the record," she sighed wistfully, her blue eyes limpid and sweetly shining.
He grinned as though he had scored big with her. "It's up in my room," ho said. "If you'd like to come up and listen to it...."
Becky rose and he stood with her. "That sounds nice," she said.
*
*
*
*
He lived on the sixth floor. His name was Roy and he was a freshman just like she was. And he was nervously excited as they rode the elevator up to his floor. Becky doubted he'd ever had a girl in his room before. She wondered if he'd ever scored a piece of cunt before either.
Roy unlocked his door and let her enter first. His roommate was away for the weekend, just like Marjie, and Becky could see that his eyes were gleaming in anticipation of what be thought would be the seduction of the lovely blonde he'd picked up.
She sat down on the bed nearest the boy's stereo set while he hunted through his albums and found the soundtrack LP she had come to hear. He put it on the turntable and then pulled the chair away from his desk and sat down. Becky stretched herself on the bed, kicking off her shoes, letting her short denim skirt ride high as she lounged. Its hem slipped and slipped, further and further up her creamy thighs, and she could see Roy pretending not to notice the leg shot she was giving him. He wasn't the most sexy or attractive guy she'd ever seen, but he seemed nice, if a little overly earnest, and after her turndown from Sam, she wasn't especially particular whose cock got into her tonight. Roy would do in a pinch, she thought.
The music was captivating and she could close her eyes and see once more the movie's young lovers, Paul and Michelle, walking along the sands of the Mediterranean, chasing wild horses, making love in the surf. Elton John's voice had a sexy romantic quality and she found herself breathing in time with his songs.
Roy said something to her and she started. "What did you say?" she asked. "I couldn't heat you over the record."
He put a hand out to turn down the volume of the stereo, but Becky's palm settled quickly atop his wrist, sparking him with a contact nearly electric. His eyes focused upon hers and he saw her patting the bed beside her.
"Come sit here," she said. "That way we'll be able to hear each other and still listen to the record." And she smiled, hypnotizing him with her pearly teeth, and Roy came like a sleepwalker to her side.
He stretched out beside her on the narrow bed, unsure whether he ought to let his body touch hers. As a consequence he found himself cramped and aching in his effort to keep nonchalantly separated until it was time to make his big move.
Becky's hand once more lay across his wrist, and he squirmed delightedly at the warm touch of her. "Isn't that a nice melody," she said, gesturing with her head at the playing record. He nodded. And then his cock sprang into an erection that arched painfully against the constricting fabric of his shorts and trousers, for Becky, her eyes closed, her lips humming along softly with Elton John, had snuggled tight against him, her apple breasts rubbing his chest, setting him afire through the shirt he wore. Her legs, barer and barer as she wiggled beside him as the shorty skirt rose, stretched like shapely marble columns.
Her face was close to his now, her hair, sweet and natural-smelling, brushed his cheek, and her hands had begun to stroke his chest. God Damn! Roy thought. I believe she wants to do it! But was he correct? he wondered in sudden fright. Was she only responding to Elton John, or did she want him, Roy, the guy she had just met downstairs? He'd never met a girl this aggressive before, and for that reason he was terrified that he was misinterpreting her actions. Suppose she only wanted to cuddle while she listened to Elton John?
He touched her hair lightly, his finger caressing her ear, stroking the tight flesh of her neck. She went "Ummm," and pushed her head closer to his cheek. Roy was sure now that she was braless, for he could feel the unfettered warmth of her tits, sense the poke of nipples against him. He longed to strip away her corduroy blouse and find out for sure.
She folded her legs, heels coming to rest against her ass, and the skirt rose even higher. Roy could see the black panties underneath. Tentatively his hand came to rest on her bared and beautiful thigh. He touched her. She didn't move to resist him. He began to stroke her bare leg, sliding his palm between her knee and the high-risen hem of her skirt. Still no resistance, no shrieks of "I'm a nice girl! Don't do anything like that to me!" Dared he hope? Dared he dream?
He slid his hand beneath her hem, touched and fondled the small portion of her thigh still shielded by her skirt. Still no protest! This was it, he decided exultingly. She was gonna let him do it!
Roy slid further up Becky's thigh. His finger traced round the leg opening of her panties, touched the protrusion of her bush and mons in the soft nylon undergarment, then, acting with a will of their own, insinuated themselves under her bikinis, actually touching the plump mound of her pussy. And, far from making him stop, she was actually thrusting her cunt against his exploring hand. She wanted him to feel her up!
"Becky," he said softly, his words muffled by her hair. She didn't reply. He realized with a jolt that she was already unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, unzipping his pants with the other!
Jesus, Becky thought, he sure took a long time to get down to action. Well, better late than never.
*
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*
She was lying on her side, nude now, his hands fondling and caressing her pink points. His cock stuck forward like a third arm, its tip poking and pecking at her cunt hair. And now, maddeningly enough, he seemed to have no intention of going ahead with the act! At least, not fast enough to suit Becky. She wanted him to plunge inside her now, to fuck her till she screamed for mercy, but all he wanted to do was play with her tits. Damn, damn, double damn, hell! she thought angrily, remembering the pleasure she could have known with Sam had he been available to her. Becky's fingers suddenly wrapped round the stiff prong of Roy's dick and guided it unerringly to the lips of her cunt. She threw a leg across his hip, opening herself, then pressed forward, burying half his not overly large prick inside her.
Now he gets the message, she reflected with a grin, as Roy suddenly became aware that he was encunted within Becky and that he should take advantage of that fact. He gave a startled grunt and started humping against her, slashing his rod in and out. This time there was no pain inside her cunt passage, she realized, and she was overjoyed to think that perhaps she was finished with that uncomfortable reaction forever. Her pussy was growing accustomed to the action of a male cock inside its smooth walls.
Becky fucked herself against the boy, again and again, now fully aware that no bells were going to go off in her head on this occasion. Roy's screwing was nothing special, just as his cock was no great record-breaker. For all the good he was doing her, he might as well be sliding his prick in and out of his fist. Only the tingly feeling of his cock as it tickled her pussy lips served to remind her of the time with Sam and how great a good fuck could be when a girl had a guy who knew what to do with his rod.
The door behind them opened, and Beck and Roy both looked to see who was entering. She could feel his prick start to diminish as fear scared off his erection, and she clamped tightly on him with the muscles of her cunt, afraid lest even this unsatisfactory pronging be denied her.
"Hey, I'm sorry," said the guy who had just opened the door and started into the room. He looked incredulously at Roy and Becky, studied their nude bodies--especially the lovely blonde girl's--then turned, redfaced.
"Uhhh," Roy grunted, his cock revivified by Becky's cuntal stimulation, its length beginning to thrust in and out once more.
"Hi," said Becky, smiling at the newcomer even as she squeezed her pussy round Roy's diddling dick, even as she swiveled her hips back and forth, impaling herself time and again on the impaling penis. "You busy?" she added.
"Uh, I--"
"Good," she commanded, "you can have a seat. I think I'm gonna need you in about a minute."
There! She felt Roy's cock begin to jerk uncontrollably inside her, preliminary to the ejaculation of his testicles' milky product. He stiffened his body and jabbed her bard, two, three times, his penis emptying itself in her wet depths. Roy's cock went soft almost immediately and slithered out of Becky's pussy like a frightened snake scurrying down a garden path.
She cursed softly, under her breath, and rolled round on the bed. The new boy was standing close beside her, his back to the other bed. She threw herself upon him madly, driving him backward, knocking him to the mattress at his back, and she straddled her body over his crotch, rubbing her cant against the hastily arising shaft of his manhood. She felt it grow and stiffen inside his pants, and she knew that he was ready now. Two guys in a row? she thought wickedly. Becky Ryan, you're nothing but a horny little slut!
Becky lifted her dripping cunt from its perch atop the stunned boy and applied her hands to getting down his pants. She jerked his trousers and shorts down to his ankles, touched his peter with teasing fingers of fire, and jerked her fist upon his shaft till he moaned aloud in ecstatic misery.
She glanced abruptly over her shoulder. Roy still lay on the bed where she had left him. His cock hung limp between his legs, resting lightly on the sack of bails below. Globules of his creamy come glistened on the stalk. On his face was a look of bemused puzzlement as he stared uncomprehendingly. He had just fucked the pretty blonde, he thought uncertainly. Why in the shit was she getting ready to climb onto the guy from down the ball? And what the hell was the guy from down the hail doing here, anyway?
"Are you ready, Tiger?" Becky purred, hovering above his stiff cock. The guy below muttered and whimpered. He hadn't expected anything like this to happen to him--not tonight! But damned if he would try to stop it. His prick was cocked for action and if this wacky girl only got it inside her, she'd be cocked too!
Becky's cunt was already lubricated and moist. She braced her feet on the bed, straddling his crotch, and lowered herself. His cock touched her cunt, and her fingers seized it, directing it to the hole where its services were needed. It slipped inside with absolutely no trouble, pushing home on a greased track, and she began to piston herself up and down on him. Each time she dropped, her cunt hairs brushed against his own pubic bush, and the tickling was out of sight! She wiggled her ass as she fucked herself on him, and his cock scraped and slid round in the mouth of her pussy.
Her foot slipped as she bounced up and down, and she started to fall forward. As she did, his cock suddenly bumped the pulsing nub of her clitty button, and Becky went into spasms. Her cunt snapped tight round his cock like a glove, and she thrust herself forward, to keep constant that exciting pressure on her love bump. The cock that shucked in and out of her humping crotch was bathed in her sweet wet syrup, and each tap on her clit increased her flow of honey juice.
She lay forward on him, her chest pressed against his belly, her mouth sucking at his neck and chin, drifting upward to drink deep at his mouth, her tongue licking his cheeks and lips and nose. Lying stretched forth as she was, the rubbing of his stiff cock on her erogenous nubbin was continuous, and Becky knew that she had to let herself go, to come as if her life depended on it.
"I'm gonna shoot," he was hissing into her open mouth. "I'm gonna drop my load." His arms tightened round her back and he held her to him. "Is it okay if I come inside you?" he asked her, the strength of his grip precluding any possibility that she might get away from him before he let go of the shuddering load building up in his sack of nuts.
"Shoot, damn it!" she gasped. "Fill me up!" And she jerked her cunt down tight, the labia squeezing him like a nutcracker, and he had to react in the only way he could, his cock jerking and pumping. Becky shrilled her joy as the first spraying gush of come flowed into her twat, and she humped down heavy on him, twisting and writhing to get as much of him into her as she could take. Again his cock erupted, and again, and again. The juice that squirted out of his penis seemed to have no end, and she thought madly that she could feel it spraying up her belly, up her throat, into her mouth! She spread her cunt as she pressed down upon him, wanting to ingest his balls, his legs, his whole body, anything at all to fill the aching void of her climaxing pussy.
In the deepest sense, she knew even in the abandon of the moment, this was even better than she had had with Sam, because this time she knew what to expect. She could plan her actions, anticipate her reactions, and make the experience of orgasm even more delightful for herself.
Becky held her vagina down bard, sucking into her churning guts all the come flow the boy could spit out, her inner muscles milking the juice from him, pumping it up her love tract, until he went dry and his exhausted cock collapsed. When she could stimulate it hard no longer, she flopped off him, his peter sliding from her with a small, funny "swiiittt" sound, and she lay beside him on the bed.
"Jesus," he said in a choked mumble. He looked at the magnificent nude form next to him, drank in the beauty of her classic face, the small perfect orbs of her tits, the lovely, burnt gold satin of her cunt hair, now dripping from the juices the two guys had shot off in her. He scanned her long legs, sweat-drenched, tanned, shapely. This girl was a fucking dreamboat! And he had just banged the hell out of her! He wondered who she was, what she was doing here.
As the bliss of his ejaculation frenzy wore off him, he remembered that he was sitting here nude from waist to ankles, and that Roy, the guy who lived in this room, was sitting completely nude on the bed across from him. Red-faced, he bent to pull up shorts and trousers, buckling his belt hastily.
"How the hell did you get in on this?" Roy suddenly demanded. He made no move to cover up his limp cock as he stared with a quizzical expression at the couple on the other bed.
The intruder rubbed a hand across his brow, surprised to find that he, too, was perspiring heavily. His mouth was dry, and words came to him with difficulty. "I-uh--came to see if you had any Salems. The machine in the hall is out of them."
Becky raised herself on one elbow and looked with kittenish glee at the two guys. "Don't start any bitching on my account," she said. "After all, my body is all my own, and I fuck anyone I want to fuck. You," she said to Roy, "got your rocks off, but you left me up in the air. He got me over the hump. I'm glad ho came along."
"What's your name?" asked the guy Becky had just screwed.
"Beck," said the girl. "What's yours?"
"Paul. Hey," he went on, bending his head close to hers, "can I see you again sometime, maybe?"
Becky shrugged her shoulders. "Depends," she observed dryly.
"Cut this shit," said Roy with a frown. "I saw her first."
Becky got off the bed. "You don't own me," she told him. "Like I said, my body is my property. I came up here tonight because I wanted to get fucked, and I did. There's no telling where I'll go or who I'll go with the next time I want to get fucked." She began to dress.
"Oh, come on, Beck," said Roy. "I didn't mean to get possessive. I'd like to see you again, too."
"I live here in Bentley," she said nonchalantly. "You might see me anytime. One never knows." Dressed, she headed for the door. "Oh," she added, looking over her shoulder, "thank you for playing the Elton John record for mc. It was very nice of you." And she was gone.
As the door closed behind her she heard Paul say to Roy, "Jesus, God, what a fuck! That bitch has got an ass on her like nobody's business." And it's nobody's business what I do with my ass, either, she thought with a wry smile as she headed for the elevator.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Becky slept in Saturday morning. The very pleasant come she had enjoyed up in Roy's room left her with no need to finger-fuck herself to sleep, and the dreams that visited her body were sweetly erotic ones, filled with balling on velvety clouds and in fragrant fields of honey and clover.
She knew now that she would have no trouble in finding the sex partners she wanted. Picking up Roy had been easy as eating a piece of cake, and this was her first try. What might she not do when she expanded her field of operations to include other campus locations? Of course, having a coed dorm to live in made things much easier. You could find a guy in the social room, fuck him in his room, and go back to your own, all without having to leave the building. Winters here in Henderson were cold, and finding cock in Bentley Hall was a much more attractive idea than having to comb the campus in the snow or below-zero temperatures.
Becky slept through breakfast, but by noon was hungry, so, deliberately frowzy-looking in sloppy jeans and sweatshirt, her hair in curlers, she went down to the cafeteria in the basement to grab a meal. Afterwards, in her room, she was looking over her English assignment when the phone rang.
"Hello," she said in a sultry voice she had decided to experiment with.
"Hello," came a male voice in reply. "Is this the Becky I met last night in Roy's room?"
"It might be," she cooed. "Who's this, please?"
"My name's Paul."
"Hi, Paul," she said.
"Jeez, I'm glad I found you. All I knew was your first name, and I've been going through the student directory calling every Becky in Bentley Hall. You're the eighth one I've tried, by the way." They laughed together, and he went on, "Are you busy this afternoon?"
"No," she said. "Did you have something in mind?"
"Kind of," he admitted. "Can you come up to my room? It's 612. And soon?"
"I think so," she replied. "Let me put on something sexy."
"Yeah," he leered into the phone. "You just do that."
*
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*
Becky dressed in a hurry, jerking the curlers out of her hair. She wanted to look nice, because Paul had been a pretty good piece of cock. Not as good as Sam in every respect, true, but he could learn. And she would have a lot of fun learning the art of fucking right along with him, for as long as they were content to ball together.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Nice, Ryan, she thought gaily. She was wearing a simple blouse, with a wide elastic neckline, that she caught round the curves of her shoulders to expose the fact that she had no bra strap to interfere with a sweet view. Her hips were covered by a short skirt, one of the ones she had brought from home; after the party at Sam and Terry's, she and Marjie had gone through the old Becky's rather demure wardrobe, raising hemlines wherever possible. As a consequence, the skirt rode high on her thighs, hung just below the delightful curve of her ass. She whirled round before the looking glass, noting with approval the way the skirt whirled and swayed when she moved. Legs flashed and thighs twinkled. She was ready. She only hoped Paul was too.
*
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Becky knocked on the door of 612 and it opened to her. Paul stood there, a cigarette clenched between his lips. "Wow," he said, taking in the artfully enhanced curves of her sweet body. "You look good enough to eat!"
"I certainly hope so," she smiled in reply, closing the door behind her.
Becky approached him on cat feet, her outstretched arms wrapping round his back. She pressed her head close to his, searching for his mouth with her own. He kissed her back, then pulled his head away.
She shrugged and flopped herself down on one of the two beds. "Any time you want to start," she smiled.
Paul lit another cigarette. "Ah, well, uh, Becky--it's like this, see. I, uh, wanted you to come up, because I had a good time last night, see, and I remembered that-I remembered it real well," he emphasized, "and, bin, well, I thought--"
"Get to it," she said, "cause I wanta get to it!"
"Okay," he protested, "okay. I wanted you to come up, see, because, well, uh--" he searched for the words. "See, I have this book report due in Political Science next week, and I don't write too well. I don't talk too well either, but you probably know that already. Anyway, my roomie is a real egg-head. You know, with glasses and an I.Q. and everything, one of those kind. So he's gonna write the report for me, and I thought maybe, well, that instead of paying him for it, maybe I could talk you into--I mean, maybe you wouldn't mind--"
Becky frowned. "You want me to fuck your roommate so he'll do your homework for you. Is that right? Am I getting the drift of what you're drifting around?"
Paul nodded. "I hope you're not mad at me for asking," he was quick to add, "but I thought--"
"You thought that since I'd fucked you and what's his name last night that I wouldn't mind taking on your roomie too."
Paul stared at her, hope fading in his eyes. He knew she was gonna tell him to stick his roomie and his book report up his ass, and shove his cock in with them. He knew that's what she was gonna say.
"Oh, all right," Becky shrugged. "I guess it won't hurt."
Paul sighed in relief. Now he wouldn't have to give Archie the five dollars he'd been asking for writing the book report. He wondered if he might not even be able to get five dollars and the book report out of Archie Instead. Hmm? It was worth a try, he decided.
"What's he like?" Becky asked.
"You know," Paul replied. "An egghead. That type."
Becky didn't know what an egghead looked like. None of the boys in Fayetteville had been intellectually inclined. Most of them, she realized now, were too dumb to pour piss out of a boot with directions printed on the heel. "When do I make him?" she asked.
"Huh?" Paul asked, stirred from his reverie. "Oh, he'll be back here in a few minutes. He's at the library, but he said he'd be back by two o'clock."
"Are you gonna stay and watch?" she asked acidly.
Paul missed the sarcasm in her voice. "Oh, no," he smiled, "I have a date this afternoon to play tennis. I won't be around."
She nodded, disdain curling her mouth. Becky Ryan, she told herself bitterly, you really are a slut. Not because you made it with two guys in a row without a break, but because now, like a dumb, damned whore, you're letting yourself get set up to fuck away a conniving bastard's debts. She was still musing over this new twist in her recently begun sexual life when Paul bid her goodbye and went out the door.
*
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Becky was sitting on the bed looking at a book when the doorknob turned. She looked up with a smile as a boy entered.
"Hi," she said, her face bright but her heart sinking. Oh, God! she thought suddenly. He's a dwarf! The guy wasn't really a dwarf, but he stood at least five inches shorter than Becky. She didn't have to measure him with a yardstick to know that if they stood face to face, his eyes would be on a level with her collarbone.
"Who are you?" asked the boy, his eyes bugging. He looked at Becky's fetching smile, looked at her bared shoulders, stared Lustfully at her even more fetching legs. And then his eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the long-limbed girl stretch herself and slide like a lazy tigress from the soft cushioning mat of the bed on which she had been lying. He saw the muscles ripple in her legs, saw the bareness of her thighs, stared into the tantalizing partial revelation of her crotch as she got to her feet. And then she was coming toward him, her body a lithe tribute to human anatomy.
"I'm Becky," she said, touching one long finger to the boy's chest. He jerked at her contact, and the books in his arm fell to the floor. "Did I startle you?" she asked, suddenly very concerned. And as he knelt to pick up the items he had dropped, she knelt with him, her knees up and her skirt risen high to reveal the pantied bulge of her crotch.
Archie didn't want to get up, because he knew that she would see his bard-on jutting inside his pants. That had hit him as soon as he saw the casual exposure of her undies, and it embarrassed him. He knew she must be waiting for Paul, and he hated Paul suddenly for being able to get girls like this.
"Paul isn't here," he said breathlessly, still kneeling. Becky had arisen now and he looked at her, his eyes filled mostly with the vision of her long bare legs, his brain seeking to will its way to X-ray eyesight that he might look beneath the fabric of her skirt, penetrate the nylon of the panties he had already seen. He wished she would go, because be knew his hard-on would never diminish so long as she was here, but he didn't want her to go, for the sensation of being here alone with her, able to fantasize anything he wanted regarding her and that lovely body--this was something he wanted to keep always.
"I know Paul isn't here," she said with that Madonna smile, and her fingers touched his hair ever so lightly. "I wanted to see you."
Now Archie knew be was dreaming. He'd died and gone to hell. That was it! A car had bit him on the way back from the library and he was in hell and Satan was tempting him with this vision. The moment he tried to put a hand on the form that was haunting him right now, it would vanish and he would be in the midst of broiling, scorching fires with imps tormenting his reddened body with the points of their pitchforks. Oh, he knew it now!
Becky's hand slipped down his cheek, stroking his flesh. Could even the devil make a vision so real? Archie was frozen fast with fear. His cock jutted out angrily but his muscles would not propel him even if he dared move.
"Are you real?" Archie croaked, his vocal chords drying up as he spoke, his throat tightening so that he couldn't even swallow. He thought of all the times he had masturbated himself to a fury, spilling his semen onto his fingers, onto his sheet, into tissues, handkerchiefs, wherever be could squirt it, while he fantasized the image of a beautiful woman who wanted him, only him--who touched him and caressed him and made love to him with her voice until his cock was stiff and aching with the release it desired and she took his desire in hand and relieved him of it and left him shrieking and screaming his ecstasy to the whole world around.
"Of course I'm real, Archie," she said, and he knew it must be a dream, for how else would she know his name? She was so tall, much taller than he, and so beautiful in her pristine, classic way. As he knelt beneath her he could see the little breasts banging in the cloth of her blouse, could see the pricking points of her nipples showing in the front of her garment, could smell, for Christ's sake, the womanly aroma of her. He wanted her and he knew he could never have her, for she was the kind of girl a guy like him never got. He wished he could cry his heart out, cuddling his head on those apples growing from her chest, hug his face in her legs and spill tears onto the slim gorgeous columns that rose in graceful curves from ankles to ass.
And her hands were reaching for his now, and his palms felt the touch of hers, and she was clasping him. She tugged, and he had no will to resist. He rose, oblivious now to the inescapable bulge in his pants, and she moved her body against his. He tried to pull his crotch back, so she wouldn't notice that he was aroused, but there was no stopping her as she ground her pelvis against his, feeling with her loins every inch of what he had inside his trousers.
She dipped her head then, her tongue flicking out like a snake's, and her mouth approached his, and he bent his head upward to meet hers, for she was so much taller, and he knew then his first kiss from a sensual woman's lips. Her tongue easily penetrated the skimpy barrier of his teeth and delved inside his mouth, deliciously wet, erotically exciting, and he could feel the spittle of her mouth. He threw his arms round her and clasped his body against hers, ramming the erect presence of his covered prick into her consciousness.
Becky smiled as she felt Archie's arousal. She tongued him again and again, making his prick grow harder and harder till she was sure it wouldn't break if hit by a sledgehammer. Her lips soft against his, she withdrew her tongue from his mouth and cooed against him, "Would you like to fuck me now, Archie? Would you like to take that stiff cock of yours and jam it into Becky's pretty cunny hole?" He gurgled soporifically, and she went "Hmmm?" into his open mouth, making him tingle from the humming.
"Oh, God, yes," he whispered, "please let me put my cock in you. I promise I'll do it right. I'll fuck you real good if you'll let me. Please, Becky. I'll eat your pussy. I'll do anything you want me to."
Now, Becky thought. Now she would throw herself out of his grasp and laugh her ass off at him and his stupid prick. Tell him that his fucking roommate had tried to get her to whore herself for him, tried to talk her into fucking his slob of a roomie just to save himself a little cash. And then she would laugh and giggle and laugh and chortle and laugh and whinny like a horse as she watched the tentlike projection of his pants front collapse from shame. As for Paul, she'd castrate him some other way. Maybe Marjie would have an idea.
"Oh, God," Archie went on, his breath hot and faintly sweet in her face. "I've never done it before but I know I can do it right, if you'll just let me. Please, Becky, please!" His glasses were steaming up from the heat of her presence and his eyes were pleading like a puppy's. Becky felt sorry for him all of a sudden, and she wondered if she were callous enough to go through with the plan she had devised. And what had he said--he'd never done it before?
"Archie," she whispered breathily, "are you really a cherry?" Her arm squeezed round his back, slipped down to fondle the cheeks of his slim male ass. His eyes turned away from hers. "Come on," she teased him, "you can tell Aunty Becky if you are." He nodded quickly, almost as if he wanted to do it without her seeing.
Well! she thought This was kinda different after all. If Archie had been a pussy-hound like Paul apparently was, she would have been able to scotch the snake of his loins without a qualm of anxiety, but to do that sort of thing to a boy evidently aching to lose his cherry--that would be as cruel an assault as Ted had perpetrated upon her. She suddenly felt a motherly tenderness, a sympathy for this poor virgin boy. She wanted to help him now, not hurt him.
Becky slipped out of Archie's arms and made her way to the bed where she sat down. Her finger motioned for him to come to her, and he came, as though hypnotized. She laid an arm round his shoulders.
"You've really never had a girl before?" she asked. He shook his head. "How do you get relief, then? I mean, don't boys have urges?" He blushed red and she knew. "I'll bet you play with yourself, don't you?" She touched the stiff rod in his pants. "You take this out and you slide your hand up and down the shaft until you squirt out all that man goo, don't you?" He blushed again, and a giggle started to come from his lips. Shocked that he could be doing such a silly thing he turned his head away from her, but she caught his chin and pulled his face to hers again.
"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Archie," she said, "but you have to grow out of that sort of thing. Would you believe that I used to do it to myself too?" His eyes bugged and she nodded. "So I know all about it. And now," she went on, "you and I will find a better way for you to get rid of all that excess juice that keeps building up down there. Okay?"
Archie was out of it by now. The shock of what had been happening to him ever since he stepped into the same old room he had been coming to since the start of school was too much for him. His mouth could only gurgle, and flashes of tumultuous pleasure shot to his brain as Becky fondled the protrusion in his pants.
"Well," Becky told him, giving the poking pole a friendly tap, "let's do it, then." She got up off the bed and released the waistband of her skirt. It fell to the floor and she stepped out of it. Archie's eyes focused upon her tiny panties, dreaming of what lay beneath them. He hoped her pubic hair was naturally blonde. That would be pretty.
Becky put her clothing on Archie's desk as she discarded each item of dress, but as her hand deposited the blouse she fumbled and knocked a pile of notebooks and her skirt to the floor. "Damn," she said softly, kneeling to retrieve the spilled articles, and then she saw, stuffed in between two of Archie's notebooks, a magazine. It was a slick paper job, about standard magazine size, but the cover illustration was like nothing she had ever seen before.
In a full-color close-up a beautiful girl was sucking hungrily on the shaft of an incredibly huge, stiff cock. The girl's cheeks were drawn in as she mouthed away at the organ and a look of rapture was on her face. Becky looked at the title. DANISH ORGASM.
"What's this?" she asked, turning to Archie.
"Oh," he said in a choked voice, blushing still redder.
Becky flipped the magazine's pages. Every page was filled with photographs in color or monochrome of men and women performing various sexual activities. She had never seen pictures like this before, and she looked with fascination. Her eyes drifted from the page to the poleaxed Archie.
"Is this yours?" she asked. He nodded, shamefaced. "And do you look at this while you play with your peter?" He nodded once more. "I'll bet you imagine that you're the guy in the pictures, too, don't you?" Again he nodded. "Well."
Becky arose from the floor, leaving her clothes and the other things where they had fallen. She came to him, nude, the book in her hand.
Archie sat silently, embarrassed that she had discovered his secret shame. Even Paul didn't know about his dirty magazine.
"Ooh," Becky said with a grimace as she stared at a full-color shot of a girl getting fucked in the ass by a man with an enormous prick. "That's terrible!" She looked at Archie. "You better get your things off, Tiger. You can't fuck me if you're dressed."
Archie jumped off the bed and sped lightning fingers to the fastenings of his clothes. Becky was still lying on the bed, her eyes taking in the various sexual practices illustrated for her benefit. She looked up and saw Archie standing beside the bed, his cock jutting out. My, she thought. He certainly has a nice size! If he can't get girls, it's his own damned fault!
She had just found the center story of the issue. It featured a guy and a slim, lovely blonde girl. God, she thought, if her own hair were cut short, like a boy's, she and the girl in the magazine could almost pass for twins.
What a funny feeling!
Becky looked anxiously from the pages of the magazine to Archie's cock. Sudden inspiration seized her. She remembered how she had lain surreptitiously awake that night and watched Marjie and Terry going at each other on the next bed. She remembered how Marjie had at one point of the activity taken Terry's cock in hand and put it in her mouth. Becky had never had the chance to try that, but it certainly hadn't killed Marjie, had it? Could it hurt her? Of course a guy wouldn't shoot his juice in her mouth. That would be poison, wouldn't it? But it seemed there would be no harm in trying. Wasn't the girl in the magazine doing just that?
She moved her head forward suddenly, mouth open, and her tongue bathed the tip of Archie's cock. The boy's eyes went wide, and he moved forward to give Becky a better approach.
A pearly drop of semen appeared in the slit at the apex of his circumcised corolla, spurred out of him by Becky's virgin tongue. Sudden bravery inspired her. She flicked out with her linguam and brushed it across the supersensitive head of his peter, drawing that glistening driplet of come onto her tongue. It touched her taste bud and she marveled at its slick sweetness. Was man come poison? She wondered, she still didn't know, but she thought insanely that if it was, she couldn't think of a tastier way of dying than to drink Archie's nuts dry.
"Oh, God," Archie whispered, "you're driving me crazy, Becky."
She made no reply, instead forming her mouth into an 0, just like the girl in the magazine, and letting his cock slip inside the circle of that 0 to rest upon her laving tongue. She bathed round and round his prick with her tongue, roughly rubbing the tender edges of the head-arrow point, and then it slipped back along her tongue and her mouth closed shut round his shaft. She sucked at him like he was a lollipop, her cheeks drawing in, puffing out, her lips working up and down as she fed herself on the Staff of Life.
Archie's legs were weak, he knew he couldn't stand up another second, but he knew if he fell to the floor he'd break off contact with her sucking, nursing mouth and he would rather die than have that happen. Steeling himself to the delicious ordeal he kept his feet, and began to swivel his hips in and out in time to her splendid sucking. His cock slid back and forth along her wet soft tongue, pushing for her tonsils.
"Unngghh," Becky grunted as the cock drifted too far into her mouth, her mind sending her mouth the message that she might gag or strangle if Archie didn't take it easy. She reached out, caught him by the hips, and pulled him toward the bed. Without taking her mouth off his shafting prick she eased his hips onto the mattress, pushed his shoulders down so that he was on his back. Now she was above him, now she could control the amount of cock that fed into her mouth at any one time.
"Oh, baby, suck it! suck it!" Archie was groaning through clenched teeth now, his hips arching and falling as Becky's head bobbed on his stiff prick.
Becky's hand slid round and she pulled the magazine to where she could see it as she sucked. The last shot on the bottom right corner shower her look-alike merrily eating cock, although the positioning was different in the photograph. The guy was above the girl, jamming peter to her like cartridge belts into a machine gun. Well, she thought, maybe the girl has more experience. I certainly don't want to strangle myself learning to do this!
She flipped the page and saw that in the next sequence photo the girl was using her hand on the guy's stalk, only the tip of it caught in her sucking lips. Well, she thought, if its good enough for her--Becky drew her hand up and released most of his length from her mouth. A hot hand wrapped round his shaft just above the balls, and she gripped Archie tight. He moaned in glee as her hand squeezed him.
Becky looked to the book for directions. In the next shot--as she could tell from the change of position, as slight as it was--the girl was jacking up and down on his cock while she sucked its point. Okay, she told herself, and her hand began to lever him up and down. Oooh. She'd bopped herself in the chin. Don't get carried away, Ryan, she warned herself. You could get a bad bruise.
The next picture was more of the same. The girl was still jerking her guy's prick while she sucked it. Good enough. And it was kinda fun. She could taste the preliminary dribblings of come that were oozing out of his cock as she fellated it, and she fell in love with the taste of man juice. How could it be poison? She'd ask Marjie, just to be safe, if she remembered. Meanwhile she was having too much fun to worry about consequences.
Her eyes fell upon the last shot of the series. Oh! and her eyes went very wide, for the guy had exploded in this photograph and his come was dripping out of the girl's mouth. Becky's look-alike in the magazine had swollen cheeks, obviously filled with semen, and it made her look like a cute squirrel taking home a mouthful of nuts for the long winter. Well, that was proof enough that juice in the mouth wasn't harmful.
Becky increased her action, anxious to see what would happen. Her fist jerked up and down with increasing rapidity, her mouth sucking harder and harder at the aching knob of flesh capping Archie's cock. Her oral juices were flowing, coating his dicktip, and saliva was flowing down the shaft to wet her fingers, and suddenly she knew that his sperm was going to fly very soon!
She could feel it building up in his balls, feel it start to flood into the duct on the underside of his cock. His prickhead expanded in her hot sucking mouth, till she felt it would split her jaws open, and then her hand trembled as the stream of bubbling come tore upward through his shaking cock. The eyelet in the center of his corolla burst open and sweet balsam poured into her mouth too strong to be denied or rejected. She knew that her cheeks were bulging just like the blonde's in the porno magazine had done, and she knew that his semen was filling every corner of her mouth.
Becky began to swallow out of desperate panic, fearful that the river flowing into her jaws would strangle her. "Glug, glug," noises issued from her gasping throat as his slick sweet ooze gurgled down her throat, but still she couldn't swallow it all. Surplus come dripped from her mouth and splattered wet and hot upon her hands still clutching his dick, upon Archie's pubic hair and balls and belly. Rivulets of semen trailed down her chin from the corners of her lips--it seemed she must have come flowing from her ears and eyes and nose, and still she swallowed, receiving a fresh squirt of juice each time his cock jerked and pulsated in her tight grip.
Releasing Archie's cock at last, Becky looked once more at her look-alike in the magazine. She doubted very much if the blonde in DANISH ORGASM could have sucked a cock one whit more satisfactorily than she, Becky Ryan, former virgin, had just done. And on her first time out! No doubt about it, Becky told herself as she settled onto the bed wearing a smug look of self-approval. Ryan, you are fucking fantastic!
CHAPTER NINE
It had been fun learning, Becky decided. So much fun that she had given herself over for a short while to a very healthy, very active promiscuity. So far had she come that the old Becky-frigid, frightened, still 'very virginal in spite of having been raped-the old Becky seemed to be a different person, one she could not imagine had dwelt in her own awakened, hyperactive body.
She didn't fuck everyone. Not Archie, for example. The boiling sperm cocktail he had spouted into her sucking mouth left him depleted and exhausted, unable to get up again. So she had left him with a kiss and gone back to her room, exuding the aroma of fresh-spilled come to everyone who got a whiff of her breath, and smiling as her fragrance sparked shocked recognition.
But on the other band, what about the boy she met in the dorm lobby Sunday evening, the day after she'd gotten herself talked into making it with Archie? He'd been nervous and shy too, asking her which room a girl named Caroline lived in, so he could get back the biology notes she had borrowed from him. Becky invited him to her quarters, and before he knew which end of him was up, she had it out and in her. And there were others. However, aimless, free sex palled of its own accord after a few days, and Becky realized that she was enjoying her comes but that there was nothing in it for her beyond the friction that brought her body to pulsating bliss. The guys she was screwing were, once their cocks had emptied, really rather dull. She couldn't talk to them. Where was the romantic spark, the sudden interaction of two people--where was the lightning flash of love? She still believed in love but now she saw no reason to divorce it from its most obvious physical manifestation. And now that she had explored the physical side, she wanted it coupled with the emotional aspect of human attachment.
And so Becky began her search for a partner who would be more than just a quick fuck or suck or 69--a partner who could touch her mind as well as her clitoris.
Tuesday afternoon in World Civilization class she realized that her quest was ended. Her instructor Mr. Shearing was almost a perfect match for the unknown man she had been hoping to find. He was handsome in a rugged masculine way, he was intelligent, young enough to share many of the new ideas that she had been drinking in since her arrival at State University, he was unmarried and therefore available. So she went after him.
Setting him up was easy, although she went about it at her leisure. It was two weeks before she made her initial play, but once the groundwork had been laid she wasted no time in following up her lead. And Gods! bedtime with him had been everything she had hoped it would be. His skilled lovemaking left her body wracked in what she was sure had to be the greatest orgasm she had ever known. As they lay on his bed afterwards, wreathed in haloes of post-coital satisfaction, she had let her mind drift into fantasies of the even greater pleasures that lay ahead of them.
And then, the bastard had done it to her! As cruelly as Ted had screwed his passion into her body that day, so long ago it seemed now, Dave Shearing had screwed his male piggishness into her heart and mind. Her ideal man had proven when the chips were down to be just another hungry cock that had no consideration for the real feelings of a young girl. Well, fuck him! she thought angrily, lying on her bed. He could have had it all, all for his very own, but he blew it. Oh, how he blew it!
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Dave Shearing was looking forward to Thursday afternoon's World Civ class with trepidation and anticipation. Once more the strange but delightful blonde would be sitting among the students in front of him. Every time he thought about her lithe, responsive body, the expert quality of her cock-sucking; the educated strength of her cunt, the eroticism inherent in her every muscle, he got hard and anxious.
Was it indeed too late to clear it up with her, he wondered. Could ho redeem himself? He needed an excuse to talk to her alone, one that she couldn't refuse. Yes! he still hadn't returned the exam papers to that class. If he busted his ass grading them all tonight, he could give them back tomorrow. Still undressed after his encounter with the lovely student, he set himself down at his desk and began to rush through exam booklets with his red pencil, assigning scores here and there with little thought of consistency, eager only to get all the remaining papers marked and ready for return tomorrow at 1:30.
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Becky sat in her usual chair, watching sardonically as Dave Shearing passed out test papers. She saw her classmates looking at the scores in their exam books, some groaning at low marks, some chortling at high marks. It took Dave a long time to return the papers, because, aside from Becky, he didn't know anyone in the class by face and name. He would call out a name, wait for a hand to rise, and then stride that way with a blue booklet extended. Becky yawned as she waited for her own name to be called. She wondered if the aftermath of their little encounter would have had any effect on the high grade he had told her she received. Probably the son of a bitch has lowered me from an A to a C, she thought.
"Anyone whose name I didn't call can pick up their exam in my office after class," Dave smiled from the front of the room, positioning himself behind his lectern with a sheaf of notes for today's lecture.
So that's it, Becky thought A little lure to get me alone with Mr. Wonderful. She smiled. Okay. If that's how he wanted it.
When class was dismissed, Dave headed for his office with heels of fire. He threw himself into his desk chair, opened a sheaf of papers, tried to look casual. If Becky wanted the return of her exam paper, she'd have to come in and get it. He waited for the telltale knock at his door.
"Come in," he said with a lilt in his voice he didn't want to show.
His eyes feasted on the young beauty of her as she came into his office then. She was wearing a turtleneck sweater that clung insistently to the curves of her breasts, fit tight enough to show, to his disappointment, that she'd donned a bra today, and, below that, a pair of matching slacks. Her longish blonde hair fell in studied tousles upon her shoulders. Right now she looked as much like Betty Coed as she had not in his apartment last night, clad only in that black wig and groovy waistband.
"May I have my exam, please?" she asked, her tone of voice carefully distant, reserved.
He smiled. "Of course," he said. "But I'd like to speak to you first, if you don't mind." He indicated a chair near him.
"I really can't stay," she replied. Leave it up to him, she thought maliciously. See what the sonofabitch is gonna try.
Dave stood up, came toward her. She leaned back against the door and regarded him casually us be approached. He came within a long reach of her, then neared, stopping when only inches separated the teacher and his student.
"Becky," he said in what he hoped was a frank, open, and manly voice. She looked at him quizzically. "Becky," he repeated. "I'd like to begin by apologizing to you for last night." Who moved? Did she slide her body toward him a little or did he drift in her direction? He didn't know, but it seemed a good sign all the same.
His hand slipped to her shoulder and she let it stay there. Dave smiled beatifically as he let his arm slide between the door and her soft back.
She said very faintly, "Please, Mr. Shearing," but not in a voice that made her sound very convincing.
Dave pressed his face toward hers, brushed his cheek with her blonde locks. His other hand touched her, traced along the line of her jaw, cupped her chin, lifted her face to his. Her skin was soft as velvet, and the blue of her eyes reminded him of the clear skies above the Rockies in summer. Dave knew then that he was in love with this gorgeous girl, and he wondered if he could bring himself to use the words that would tell her of his need for her. And be knew suddenly that words were totally inadequate. He wished he could wire her brain to his, flood her mind with the sensations that swept across him now as he stroked her face, as he thought of the sensational fuck they had shared, as he thought of the delights that could be theirs for all the years to come.
Her lips parted slightly and he saw the pink point of her tongue, flicking the edges of her even white teeth. Dave bent his head then and touched her mouth with his. He felt her tongue brushing his lips and opened them to suck it in. Her breasts pressed against his body, and the side of her thigh rubbed his crotch. Dave's cock sprang erect, much to his embarrassment, for there was no way he could prevent her from knowing how sexually aroused she had made him.
Becky didn't resist him, however, much to his joy and hope. Her thigh remained plumb against his growing meat and she seemed if anything to be increasing the friction of their tactile contact. And then her fingers slipped down his chest, to rub and fondle the stiffening pole of his erection through his pants. He moaned into her mouth as she felt him with her skillful hand, and he felt her humming giggle in reply.
It was time to tell her just how he felt about her. Dave pulled his mouth from hers, cupped her chin between thumb and finger, and looked down at her with love gleaming from his every fiber.
"Becky," he said, "I don't think you can ever know how badly I feel about last night. I had to talk to you, to try to explain, to make things better for both of us."
She placed a finger over his lips, her mouth making a shush sound. "Don't talk," she smiled, her hand still rubbing up and down the length of his still clothed peter. Ah, he thought, all the fear and trembling had been groundless. In the clear morning light she had realized that his only sin was ignorance. Soon, soon, he knew, she would extract his dick from his pants and then? Who knew what they could not do, even in the cramped quarters of a first-year instructor's office.
His cock was hard as a diamond now, jerking inside his trousers as Becky continued her casual fondling. He put down his fingers to stop her, for it was time to come to the understanding he knew they could reach. But she continued to squeeze his penile flesh, and the head quivered as her fingers kneaded it from outside its cloth prison.
"Becky," he said once more.
"So hard," she whispered, "so big and hard. The best cock ever. And it's all for me?"
"Ummm," he replied, his hips moving in time with her strokes.
"Oh, good," she breathed in a husky voice, as her hand moved faster and faster on his trousers, and his cock reacted to her stimulation. "Because--" she went on, smiling a smile that would have made a professional politician seem a sourpuss--"because--" and her hand began to move faster and faster and faster and faster, and Dave felt his dick begin to quiver impulsively and suddenly it was heaving and his balls were twitching violently and his prick was spilling its warm, heavy load inside his shorts.
He jumped like a shot as his underpants began to soak from the rapidly spurting semen, and his eyes fixed upon Becky's face. She stood looking at him, her mouth twitching mysteriously, and then her face convulsed into a grin and her mouth spouted raucous laughter.
"Was the hand job okay, Mr. Shearing?" she asked insouciantly. "Can I have my test back now?"
And without looking at him a second longer, she strode across the room, shoe heels clicking and clacking, to his desk, where her blue exam booklet lay. "Oh," she said as she opened the booklet to the first page. "An A. That's just what I was hoping for."
Dave looked at her uncomprehendingly, his hand trying to pull the soaked fabric away from his body. A stain was spreading on the crotch of his trousers. She walked past him. Her hand was on the doorknob when he spoke.
"Becky. Please don't go."
Her face turned to his, and the eyes that stared at him were blue and cold as cobalt. Her lips crinkled and then she laughed once more, bitter this time.
"I wouldn't get close to you again for anything," she snarled. "Not even if you took your cock out in the middle of the Campus Green and told me you'd die if you couldn't stick it in me just once." She opened the door and started out. "Oh," she said, sticking her head back inside for just a moment, "you'd better get your pants cleaned real soon. Come stains are hard to get out, if you let them dry." And she was gone.
Dave's heart sank. He had been so sure she could read what was in his mind, in his breast. And the worst of it, the very worst, was that he still wanted her. In fact, he was sure that he loved her all the more now that he had seen in her the fury of a woman who thinks she has been scorned.
CHAPTER TEN
It had not been such a long time since Becky had been in the habit of kneeling by her bed each and every night and saying her prayers. Now the closest she seemed to come to devotional exercise was her recurrent "Thank God for the Pill!"
And thanks to Marjie, too, for insisting that she visit the campus clinic and get herself a prescription. The consultation with the doctor there had been free, paid for by a portion of the rather steep tuition fee Becky's parents had paid to the University. And in the campus infirmary she could have her prescription filled at no charge. The University preferred that its girl students not find themselves unexpectedly pregnant.
But what Becky enjoyed even more than the security being on the Pill gave her was the delightful effect its use was having on her body. In spite of all the assurances she had received to the contrary, she still felt her tits were at least a little too small. But the Pill started filling them out, bit by bit, and by the tenth week of school she found herself possessed of breasts that would have required a 34B rather than her old 34A bra, had she still been in the habit of wearing a bra.
Her hips too had gotten fuller. Marjie said it was due to the Pill, in part, and in part to the extensive exercise Becky had been getting. No matter what the exact cause, she was gratified to find her slim, lissome figure becoming tantalizingly voluptuous at last.
Showing off the nuances of that shape had become one of Becky's favorite pastimes, next to sex. She enjoyed wearing clothes that flattered her almost-perfect little body--skirts that rode high on her legs, slacks that hugged like skin the rounded contours of her hips, blouses that dipped scandalously into her cleavage or let the mounds of her young fits preen themselves through sheer fabrics. And, especially, she enjoyed wearing such clothing in Dave Shearing's history class, watching him squirm as her outfits alternately revealed and concealed the charms which he had fucked himself out of.
For a while after giving Dave the final kiss-off, Becky returned to her former unlimited promiscuity. She went to parties with Marjie and invariably ended up in a bedroom with whatever guy she wanted. She went to a coffeehouse at one of the campus religious organizations and at the break went upstairs with the featured guitarist/singer and kept him so busy he forgot to go back down and finish his performance.
But as she became more and more aware that she was eminently able to use her body to attract any man who met her approval, she became simultaneously more and more blas� about it. She wanted something new. As midterm time approached, Becky found to her great surprise that she was sitting in the dorm more and more often at night, fingering herself to orgasm as often as not, unwilling or uninterested enough to go out and find a guy.
Midterm grades came out, and Becky opened her mailbox at the dorm one morning to find a pair of letters addressed to her. One was from the University's records department, informing her that halfway through the first semester she had a total of five A's and one B in her classes. One of the As was in Dave's class. Her work had been good enough that no matter what he felt about her personally he couldn't penalize her scores.
The other letter was from the Inter-Sorority Council. It was a form letter sent to all freshman girls with midterm averages of B or better, advising them that they were eligible to take part in rush activities sponsored by the various sororities on campus. Becky looked at it a long moment, standing in the hall by the wallfull of tiny mailbox holes. When she had first come to college, starry-eyed, naive, spiritually cherry, she had thought longingly of the possibility of joining a sorority. Since her sexual awakening she hadn't given the idealistic little girl's dream another thought, but now, when she was really getting so tired of fucking for amusement, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. At least, it would be something new, and hopefully entertaining.
"Me?" Marjie asked with a snicker, later that day. "In a sorority? You've got to be kidding. I'm a freak, not a Greek. Besides," and she frowned a little, "my grades weren't high enough. I'm having some trouble in Math and Economics."
Becky shrugged. "I think I'm gonna give it a try," she said. "It might be fun."
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Rush Week was a crowded round of activities for Becky. She attended teas and mid evening parties at each of the nine sorority houses on campus, met the active members, studied them, and weighed in her mind the merits and demerits of each of the Greek-letter sisterhoods. At the end of the week she went to the office of the Dean of Women, as per regulations, and filled out a card marked with her first and second choices. Her part was done now. The sorority girls would even now be congregating, assessing each of the young women who had gone through Rush, deciding which ones they thought suitable for membership in their clubs. If either of Becky's two choices selected her as a potential member, she would be free to pledge and eventually join that sorority. If not, she might try again next semester.
Three days went by. Becky opened her mailbox one morning before going to classes and found two engraved invitations there, both addressed to her, both inviting her to join their sisterhoods. Each included a personal note from the
CHAPTER president, assuring Becky that she would be most welcome and a very desirable addition to the membership.
Becky smiled. She looked at the two ornate greetings, then at the two handwritten notes. Deciding abruptly, she found that the handwriting of Audrey Mercer, president of the local
CHAPTER of Sigma Alpha, was prettier than the penmanship (or, more properly, penwomanship) of Jenifer Dustin, president of Kappa Delta. She sent Jenifer an apologetic note and to Audrey a letter expressing great thanks.
"Jeesus," Marjie whistled. "Sig Alph is the ritziest sorority on campus, Beck. It's expensive, and the girls are snotty as hell. Are you sure you want to pledge them? Not that I wouldn't really give the hair off my crotch to be joining them myself, of course, but I'm afraid you'll get too high-class to stay friends with me."
"Shit," Becky smiled. "I can afford it, and besides, Fm joining the Sig Alphs because I want to. If I don't like them, or if they try to run my life for me, then they can go fuck themselves. I belong to me, and I'll do what I want to do."
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The pledge class was small, only seven girls, because Sigma Alpha had such high standards. The University required that girls pledging sororities have certain grade averages at midterm, and so the girls pledging with Becky were all potential Dean's list material. The sorority required that its pledges meet rigorous standards of appearance and poise, in order that socially unacceptable girls be kept out. As a consequence, every active member was a striking beauty, cool and classy, and so were the new pledges. Becky had long since lost her unease regarding her appearance, and consequently she sat, in the sorority house parlor with her pledgemates, feeling eminently self-confident and assured.
Audrey Mercer greeted the girls at their first meeting, expressing the delight of Sigma Alpha to have them as pledges, expressing the hope that in years to come they would all remember and uphold the standards of the sisterhood.
She was a lovely girl, very tall, about five-nine in her bare feet, Becky decided, with a superb figure and a lilting, musical voice. Audrey would have had no trouble winning a Miss America competition, combining as she did all-American brunette beauty, obvious self-assurance, and a remarkable presence and grace that would have negated any flaws she might possess. If there were any flaws in Audrey, Becky was unaware of them. She only hoped that when she, like the older girl, was a senior here at State, she too could so effortlessly project her own beauty and charm.
After a couple of weeks' pledging activities, Becky realized that her own conceptions of the process bad been based entirely upon out-of-date novels for girls. There were no cute pranks like crawling through town with a flashlight in her mouth, like scrubbing the steps of the campus library with a toothbrush. Instead, each of the pledge girls were required to spend an evening a week serving as virtual housemaid at the
CHAPTER house, greeting the guys who came over to visit the actives they were dating, fixing drinks, lighting cigarettes, entertaining as best they could. Becky was a fair-to-mid-ding singer, and she had had piano lessons in her early teens, so on her nights of duty she frequently made music for the guests. And she always had a smile for everyone, or a clever comment. She was growing very popular among the active members, and even Audrey, so cool and virtually unapproachable it seemed, always stopped to talk to Becky whenever they met.
One afternoon Becky and some of the other pledges who had no classes at that time were sitting in the parlor of the sorority house, talking and laughing, treating themselves to cool glasses of gin and tonic, when Audrey came downstairs.
"Girls," she said in her pleasant soprano, "I have an assignment for you. We'll need you tomorrow from noon until very late."
A girl near Becky put down her drink and looked up at the tall Audrey with concern in her eyes. "I don't think I can," she apologized. Audrey stared at the girl with a look of near disdain. "I--uh, have an exam tomorrow afternoon, I mean," she added hastily.
"Do you really want to pledge Sigma Alpha?" Audrey asked without a trace of malevolence in her voice.
"Oh, yes!" the girl blurted. "More than anything else in the world."
"Good," Audrey noted. "Then don't be late. I should advise you, though, that this will be an institutional absence and the school will permit you to make up any work you might miss."
Becky spoke up. She had not the shy nervousness of the other girls, for their whole lives were bound up in the prospect of eventually becoming members in good standing of Sigma. Alpha, while Becky Ryan was taking part in these rituals, as she did everything else, for the pleasure it might bring her. "What, exactly, are we going to do tomorrow?" she asked.
Audrey smiled, as she always did when she spoke to Becky. "It's no secret," she said. "The Sports Department is sponsoring a trip to State for some of the leading high school football stars, as a means of inducing them to come to this University and play ball here. The Sig Alph pledges will be official hostesses and guides for tomorrow's contingent. All the sororities take turns."
Becky nodded. She knew there was great rivalry among colleges for outstanding athletic prospects, that some schools went all-out to get high school talent to sign on with them. For her own part, she was totally uninterested in any sports that didn't involve a bed and two bodies, but if this was part of the pledging duties that had fallen to her, she would be as cooperative and enthusiastic as necessary.
"So, then, girls," Audrey smiled, "I want all of you to be in Coach Dietrich's office, in the Physical Education complex, tomorrow at noon sharp. He'll outline everything for you, provide you with schedules, assign you to a specific visitor, and take care of any questions you might have."
That was also Becky's night as house hostess. There weren't many visitors, though, and she spent most of the evening sitting in the parlor. About ten-thirty one of the actives, a short lovely girl named Marcy, entered the room and began to mix herself a drink at the bar.
Becky jumped to her feet. Actives weren't supposed to do such things for themselves when a pledge was on duty. She hurried to the bar and usurped the bottle Marcy was holding. The older girl smiled and took a seat. In a moment Becky had brought her her drink and a small cocktail napkin embossed with the sorority's Greek letters.
"Thanks, Beck," Marcy smiled. "Looks like a slow night Why don't you fix yourself a drink and we can sit and talk. You must be pretty bored."
Becky smiled, did as instructed, and poised herself on the chair facing Marcy.
"I have more of this tomorrow," she said, sipping demurely at her whiskey sour. "All of the pledges have been to be hostesses for some high school kids coming to campus."
Marcy nearly chocked on her drink. When she had recovered herself, face reddened from coughing, she gave Becky a funny look. "Football recruiting time?" she asked, knowingly.
Becky nodded.
Marcy shook her head. "I remember when I pledged and we got the same assignment." She settled back in her chair, eyes far away. "The guy I was with--oh, he was something else! I think you're in for some hard work, Becky."
"What do you mean?" Becky asked.
"I mean, part of your duties tomorrow will be to keep your companion hot, healthy, and happy. You know that, don't you?"
"You mean, I'm supposed to fuck him?"
"Uh-huh," Marcy nodded. "If he wants to. And, as nearly as I'm aware, they always want to. It's a big racket, you know. The kid comes up here to check out the campus, the coach pimps him a girl, she gives him a jolly roll in the sack, and they hope it makes him want to sign his life away to good ol' State."
"I guess all the colleges do it," Becky observed. "Anyway, I don't mind."
"You can say that now," Marcy grinned. "But tell me again after it's over. I mean, some of those guys are hung like stud elephants. And some of them are kinky, too. I remember, that guy I got stuck with--or, should I say, by--"
"I don't believe I'll have any trouble," Becky smiled. "They don't make them too big for me."
"Famous last words!" Marcy chuckled. She finished her drink and got up. "Tell me that again when it's over, kid!"
*
*
*
*
Seven lovely young freshman girls stood in Coach Dietrich's office, circled halfway around his desk. He looked at them, wishing that he were a football prospect himself. The Sig Alpha always sent a nice bunch of pussy for his boys and he loved to see them come in. Every one of these girls was a real dreamboat, and his eyes kept flickering from one to another, his stare halting imperceptibly on curves of fine young tit, decorated by Sigma Alpha pledge pins. He found that he couldn't quite bring himself to look away from a real blonde stunner, a tall young thing with fine legs and hips obvious in a set of velvet bellbottoms. The frankness of her smile was what impressed him most. This girl must be a real hellcat in bed, and he wished he could give her a try himself.
But hell, he thought, gotta save it all for the little sons of bitches we're trying to snare. Little? Christ, those high school footballers were getting bigger by the year, all bone and muscle and brawn. And State needed them. If the football team had a bad season, it was Dietrich's ass that went into the fire. If there were two bad seasons in a row, it was Dietrich's ass that went out the door. So he had to recruit the best ball players he could find, and experience had told him years ago that laying a nice piece of cunt onto one of the young stars made him grateful, made him think more favorably about signing with Dietrich.
"You all just look fine," he told the girls. "Just what we were hoping for. Now. The boys are waiting in the gym. Each of you will be assigned to one of them. You'll be his companion for the day. Take him around the campus, show him everything of interest, answer his questions, make him want to enroll here at State. After all, it is the best university in the country, isn't it?" He looked round at their nodding heads, thought he could discern just a trace of cynicism on the beautiful blonde's angel face.
"Afterwards," he went on, "there'll be dinner for you and your partner at the Coach House Restaurant. You'll have a car for your use today, of course, and each guy has been given a room at the Sands Motel." He looked round at their faces once more. "I assume all of you girls fuck." He waited a moment, saw no especially deep blushes or protesting expressions, noted the smile that curled the blonde's lips.
"Well," he said, "obviously I'm not going to tell you that you have to fuck the guy you're with. That would be uncouth and illegal besides. Some of them may not even want to. It's been our experience, though, that nearly all of them expect it. I suppose your president told you all about that, didn't she? Okay. If the guy wants some ass to close out a perfect day here at State, the athletic department and Sigma Alpha sorority would both be very pleased if you'd just come across with it. Remember. You'll be planting the seeds for a great football season next year if you can help these fellows decide that State is where they want to go to school. Any questions?'
*
*
*
*
Becky's partner for the day was a brute of a guy named jay Masters. He was over six feet tall, heavy-muscled, with shoulders that seemed to be as broad as Becky was tall. His face was slightly coarse in its features, but be was not unhandsome. Becky simply wasn't greatly impressed by the overtly physical type. She liked men she didn't have to stoop in order to kiss, but she preferred muscular development to lie between the legs. When she saw Jay she breathed a tiny sigh of disappointment but she took his hand with a smile. Might as well give the kid--only a year younger than she was, she thought with a grin--might as well give the kid a good time.
Her hand seemed lost in his enormous paw as they walked round the pleasant campus. The day was chilly, befitting the approach of winter, so both wore their coats. But it wasn't cool enough to make the walk uncomfortable, and the briskness of the air made Becky feel refreshed and lively.
Jay wasn't much of a conversationalist, and Becky found herself doing a great deal of the talking. She knew he wasn't resentful that she had been assigned to him, for she had seen the gleam that sprang into his eyes when she stepped forward to be introduced. It was the same kind of gleam that had hit Coach Dietrich's eyes as he watched her in his office, the same kind that Dave Shearing still got whenever Becky went to his class braless or short-skirted or with her thighs and hips shimmering beneath see-through pantyhose. Men found her attractive and she enjoyed it. Was there anything more to life, really, than that?
She led him round the University grounds, showed him the Arboreum, where the trees were bare now, the green of leaves and shrubs gone till spring's awakening. She pointed out the older buildings on campus, showed him the hail in which wounded had been cared for after a Civil War battle across the state line. She guided him past the newer campus buildings, showing him the ultra-modern architecture which seemed really not to clash so much with the nineteenth century styling of so many of the other structures. Some day even the ultra-modernity of 1974's additions to campus scenery would look quite old-fashioned to other eyes.
They sat on a bench in the green. Becky took a bag of peanuts from bar purse and fed the squirrels who scampered about fearlessly. She told him the legend of the Harvard graduate who had helped to found State, and had brought squirrels and saplings from Harvard Yard to decorate the new fount of learning. Jay's eyes seemed to flicker with interest
"You know," he said, "I'll just bet that if you had a gun you could pop off everyone of those squirrels without getting up from this bench. It's different in the woods. There you have to walk around in the cold and the wet and look for them. Here they come to you. Might be fun if I'd decide to come here, and maybe bring along my .22 pistol."
She grimaced internally, managing a feeble chuckle as befitted her duties. That was the most disgusting thing she had ever heard. The squirrels weren't harming a soul. But then she had never understood the point of sport hunting anyway. Call it sentiment, call it sanity, she couldn't see the value of killing for amusement.
Afterwards they got into the car the sports department had provided for their use today, and, while Jay drove around Henderson, Becky showed him the various points of interest in town. She was growing bored with his company, but she had several hours left in her commitment and she could see no way around that. Maybe, she thought grimly, he was a better, more interesting fucker than he was a person. She didn't see how he could help but be.
Their dinner reservations were for seven-thirty at the Coach House. It was the fanciest restaurant in Henderson and meals there were very expensive. Becky bad never been there, but she knew that she would have to look very good not to seem out of place, so at about six o'clock she parted with Jay and went back to the dorm to get dolled up.
Marjie was in the room when she arrived. As Becky peeled out of her daytime outfit, Marjie was sitting on the bed polishing her toenails.
"Big date tonight, huh?" she asked with a smile.
Becky nodded, and told Marjie what her assignment for today consisted of. Marjie's mouth opened in shock.
"That's awful," Marjie said tonelessly. "That's the most horrible thing I ever heard of. You mean, they're pimping you to the Sports Department for the day?"
"Not exactly," Becky replied.
"What the hell do you call it?" Marjie exploded. "They send you over to entertain these jocks and expect you to spread your legs for them. If that's not pimping, I don't know what to call it. Jesus, Beck, at least they ought to slip you a twenty for yourself."
"That's not funny."
"You're telling me it's not funny! I mean, I've done some freaky things in my life, but I've never let anybody sell me."
Becky spun round and fixed Manic with a cutting glance. "Maybe you haven't sold it because nobody was willing to pay for it. After all, who buys water when they're giving wine away?"
Marjie's face contorted in anger. "You bitchy slut," she snarled. "I really like that. You're getting duded up to go out and fuck some guy because the madam at your sorority told you to, and you talk to me like I'm a cheap whore of some kind. Well, let me tell you, Miss Sigma Alpha Slut of 1974, when Marjorie Martin gets fucked, it's because she decided she wants it. Maybe my cunt isn't as fancy as yours, but I own it."
Becky stormed out of the room and down the hail to the showers. She threw off her robe and stood naked as she adjusted the water, oblivious to the admiring glances from the guy who had been visiting his girl on this floor and come down to take a leak. It had been a long time since Becky Ryan had huddled terrified in the shower stall at the very thought of having someone of another sex in the bathroom with her. She paid no attention to the boy's presence.
God damn it, she thought as she basked in the spraying water, soaping her body. Marjie had no right to talk to her like that. If she wanted to do what she was preparing to do tonight, she would do it. This lovely body belonged to her and not to anyone else. It wasn't pimping at all. She simply wanted to try something new and this was the newest thing that had been open for experimentation. If she hadn't cared to entertain the visiting football prospect, she would have told Audrey to get screwed.
Sure, she added to herself, her teeth grinding furiously as she bathed, that Marjie thinks she's so liberated and sexually enlightened. And at the same time she thinks I'm a whore. Who's the bigger slut, anyway? Someone who gives it away like free candy or someone who does what she wants to do, when she wants to do it? I think Marjie is jealous because she's not pledging Sig Alph, anyway.
Afterwards, scrubbed and shining~ Becky paddled down the hail in her robe and slippers, pausing at her door to read a paper scotch-taped at eye level:
COME ONE, COME ALL. ONE LUSCIOUS
SORORITY GIRL FOR SALE. NO PRICE OFFER
IS TOO LOW. BUY NOW WHILE IT'S
STILL TIGHT.
Becky said a very nasty word as she ripped the paper off the door. Her fist slammed onto the doorknob and she entered the room ready for a knockdown fight with Marjie. I'll show that bitch! she thought angrily.
But the room was empty. Marjie's bed was rumpled as though it had not been long vacated, but there was no sign of Becky's roommate. Becky wanted to destroy something of Marjie's, but she couldn't decide what. Oh, damn, damn, damn! she mused silently, crumpling the offending sign and tossing it onto Marjie's bed. She couldn't afford to waste her time with her roommate's pettiness. Jay would drop by very shortly to pick her up for dinner and she bad to dress and prepare herself.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Becky knew that she looked good in the outfit she had chosen for tonight. When she checked her coat at the restaurant, giving Jay his first glimpse of her evening's costume, she saw him fight visibly to suppress the whistle of appreciation that sprang to his lips. She turned herself a time or two for his examination, and even the girl in the checkroom was not immune to the merits of Becky's appearance. If looks were dangerous to the receiver, the girl behind the counter would have transfixed the lovely blonde with a pointed dagger of a stare.
"Do you like it?" Becky asked Jay, smiling when he nodded. She wore a new dress, one that she had chosen particularly for use once she'd pledged her sorority. So it seemed only fair to wear it tonight. It was long-sleeved, the arm coverings flaring out like something Errol Flynn might have worn in a period film. The fabric of the bodice portion was almost transparent, and for tantalization's sake, Becky had chosen to wear a bra tonight. Its pale pink shape was discernible beneath the light blue of the dress, yet the bra was not substantial enough to prevent the almost-definite imprint of her nipples from appearing in the front of the bodice. The skirt was short enough to flirt coquettishly with the tops of Becky's stockings, and, when she sat down, any eyes that might be at knee level would have an interesting view of her thighs, past the sell-gartering hosiery, to the thin pink panties that clung like mist on her crotch. To complete her outfit she had tied a ribbon, of the same shade as the dress, in her yellow hair, setting off the bangs she had begun lately to wear on her forehead. Her makeup was minimal, for the rosy peach freshness of her complexion needed very little enhancement. A trace of shadowing on her eyes, a dabbing of lipstick to set off the pink-violet softness of her lips--nothing else was needed.
Even in her three-inch platforms, however, she was still shorter than Jay, and the overwhelming size of him gave her a little tingle of excitement. Uninspired as she was by the personality inside, she felt his body to be overpowering, dominating. As he checked their coats she thought with a little quiver of interesting nervousness that he could easily seize her body and bend It to his will. Mentally she called up the image of Ted in the woods with her that long ago day, substituting the huge figure of Jay for the much slighter presence of her onetime boyfriend. In her imagination Becky could feel the large muscled hands taking hold of her pale shoulders, the dynamic strength forcing her to the ground, the powerful thrusts into her virgin cunt. The old Becky, she thought with a smile, would have died of fear at the very sight of her football-playing escort for the evening. The new Becky? She looked upon him as an exercise--a challenge that might prove interesting, might prove dull and colorless, but which was at any rate something new.
They sat in a quiet corner of the restaurant, the only light a candle set in the middle of their small table. Jay proved no more scintillating a conversationalist than he had in the daylight hours. He was too busy, indeed, looking at Becky. From the look in his eyes one would have thought he'd never seen a lovely, fashionable girl before. Hmm, Becky mused. Maybe he hadn't At any rate, this was his first evening out with a college girl.
Perhaps she'd judged him wrongly. Could it be that he was shy? Not a chance, she decided. Underneath the table one of Jay's hands was fondling her leg, cupping and squeezing at her knee through the spiderweb texture of her stocking, That was an experienced hand. Only the fact that he couldn't slide his fingers all the way up her leg without making it obvious to everyone else in the room prevented him from slipping his hand along Becky's thigh to reach her silky cunt. For that she was grateful, but only because it kept the issue of how their night would end up in the air. Becky liked the mystery inherent in that.
Afterwards they went to the Sands Motel. It was a large establishment, two-storied, near the edge of the main business district of Henderson. Like the Coach House it was frightfully expensive, but the University was paying for the entertainment of its football-playing potentials, so not a dollar was to be held back when the fate of next year's season on the gridiron was at stake.
"This is really lavish, isn't it?" Becky admired as Jay turned on the lights to show her his quarters. He was on the upper story of the motel, in a room that obviously cost a great deal of money. The floor was deep in plush carpet and the room's furnishings were tasteful and fashionable. A color TV set occupied one corner, imposing even in its blank-faced silence, while much of the space was given over to a large, super king-size bed that simply demanded to be romped upon.
Jay helped Becky off with her coat and hung it in the closet. She stood in the center of the room, shifting her weight from side to side, her short skirt rising and falling with her movements, her stocking tops pecking into view as she swayed. God, he thought, what legs!
"Mmm," she said, rubbing a slinky hand along the top of the bed, noting its springy resilience. "I think I'd like a drink. How about you, Jay?"
"I really shouldn't," he said, in his deep but somehow empty voice, "because I'm still in training. The coach would shit a brick, if you'll pardon the expression, if I broke training. 'Sides, I don't have a bottle."
"You could call the desk," she hinted. "They'd send one up."
He nodded and smiled. "Okay," he told her. "I guess there's a lot of things about this trip I don't have to tell the coach."
She grinned responsively, seating herself demurely in one of the two chairs along the wail beside the bed. Her skirt could not cover the creamy smoothness of her legs, and she made no effort to force it to. She let herself slide back, her ass touching the back of the chair, her legs raising higher, and she smiled to think that while Jay was calling the desk to have a bottle of bourbon and some ginger ale sent up, his eyes were violating with their stare the privacy of her privates.
They sat drinking slowly, tasting the tangy whiskey first on their tongues then ever and ever further down their throats. Becky was glad of the chance to forget for a moment the ever-present problem of thinking of something to talk to Jay about. He had such a limited range of interests, and she feared that they had long since exhausted all the subjects he could discuss.
Oh, well, she thought, putting down her drink. Might as well do what 1 was sent here to do--put in a plug for good old State University.
"How do you like State?" she asked.
"It's pretty nice," be said. "I like it okay, some things better than others." The leer that crept into his eyes left no doubt in Becky's mind that she was among "some things" rather than "others."
"Do you think you'll be enrolling here?"
"I don't know," he said. "I've been getting offers from several other places. You know--Duke, Ohio State, Penn State, Maryland--all the football schools. Did you know that last season, when I was only a junior, mind you, my total yardage gained was-"
Yes, Becky thought, she knew very well. He'd told her half a dozen times. And not only that, he'd told her the details of almost every game he'd ever played in, many of the games he'd only seen, and several games he'd like to play. She sighed.
"Oh, sorry," Jay smiled. "I guess I'm boring you with all the football talk."
"No, no," she lied. She wondered if he would classify her afterwards as a touchdown or a field goal. No matter. Becky knew that she couldn't stand to hear another word about football. Perhaps it was better to fuck him now and then make some good excuse to go home. The day had been a long one, and she'd done her bit for good or State U., not to mention Sigma Alpha.
"Oh, damn," she said suddenly, getting to her feet and looking intently at her legs.
"Something wrong?" Jay asked with concern.
"It's these damn stockings," she explained. "I don't like garter belts--they seem so kinky, you know--so I wear the kind that are supposed to hold themselves up. But they don't. Excuse me while I tug them up again."
Becky set one foot on the arm of the chair she had just vacated, resting the sole of her shoe on the sturdy wood. The sudden effect was devastating. She didn't have to sneak a peek at Jay to know that he was staring intently at the suddenly bared length of her shapely leg as she pretended to fool with her hosiery.
She toyed with her stocking far longer than necessary. The position she was in, and the minilength of her skirt, caused the pantied curves of her ass to steal forth from under her clothing, and she bent herself forward just a little, exposing her rump all the more, to pull her hose straight round her toes. When one leg was finished she attended to the other one. If that didn't give him ideas, nothing would!
Becky turned to Jay with a smile. "There," she said. "That's all taken care of. Say," she added, smoothing down her skirt as though she meant to protect her modesty with its totally inadequate hemline, "would you like a midnight snack? The desk could send something up, if you're hungry." She strode to the phone. "Is there anything you'd like? The service here is really fantastic." She looked at him, her hand poised above the telephone, her eyes expectant.
Jay's face was red, like a pre-teen boy telling a dirty joke. He got up off the bed where he had been stretched out. Like a walking colossus, like Steve Reeves in an old Hercules movie, be came across the room to her, all muscle and height and outstretched hands.
He touched her, his hands clutching her elbows. His face drew close to Becky's, and he whispered into her ear. "The only food I really want to eat right now is your little old furburger." His breath tickled her ear warmly and she giggled the way she thought a scandalously amused young girl should. Crude bastard, said her mind.
"Oh," she simpered, "that's terrible!"
His hands still held her arms, and she felt the muscular power of his fingers squeezing at her. This guy could put a real hurt on a girl if be wanted to, she suddenly thought. As he held her, Becky's fingers stole to the front of his shirt and began to unbutton him.
He eased the tension with which he held her, and cradled her elbows lightly in his palms as she undid his shirt. Becky dropped to her knees then and untied his shoes, throwing them to the side as he raised each foot in turn. Next, she unbuckled his belt, then unzipped him and slid his trousers down. Somehow she always enjoyed doing that. It was such a turn-on for her to strip a guy before undoing a button of her own.
Jay stood before her in his shorts. She could see the imposing bulge of his cock and balls in the undergarments; she marveled at their size, and then she peeled his shorts down as well, to lay bare his male organs. She whistled in admiration as she stared at their nude development, sucked in her breath as she saw the slow but implacable stiffening of his penis. Marcy's words from yesterday came back to her: "Hung like a stud elephant." Well, any lady elephant who got studded by a male of her species possessed of a cock the size of Jay's would certainly have an experience worth remembering. But Becky knew her elastic cunt could take his length, could absorb his pummeling thrusts as he shoved himself in her twat again and again in the heat of fucklust. Maybe in bed Jay could make up for his dullness. With a cock like that, he couldn't help it.
Still, Becky thought, she had never, ever, taken one that large before. But she knew she could. After all, what had she told Marcy? They didn't make them too big for Rebecca Ryan.
When Jay was naked at last, Becky got to her feet. "My," she said, "You're a big boy for one so young. Now I guess I'd better do the right thing and take my clothes off too. After all, you've shown me yours, and I really ought to show you mine."
Demurely she turned her back to him, her fingers slowly working free the buttons on the front of her bodice top. She drew out the movements, wishing to tease him with the delayed treat of her body's exposure. At last the top of her dress was unbuttoned. Still not facing him, she slid it off her marble shoulders and began to slither her way out of the short mini.
Impatient fingers seized the dress, jerked it down her. "Hey!" she shouted, as she heard what had to be the ripping of the fabric. "Don't tear it!"
But before she could tell him it was a new dress and an expensive dress, it had been torn all the way from her and lay in a pile, small and pale blue in color, round her feet. As she made to turn round and face him, his hands jerked into the elastic back of her nylon bra, ripping it open. God damn it, she thought, he's butchering my clothes!
Jay's eyes were on her as she spun round, and the look in those eyes was demonic. He held in his hands the rent remnants of her brassiere, and his gleaming eyeballs were focused upon the suddenly revealed pink tips of her boobs. She wanted to place her arm across her tits, cover them from his suddenly frightening eyes.
His hand touched her shoulder, closed bard upon it. She felt him close his fingers, digging into her soft flesh. A little whimper stole from her lips. He was starting to hurt. She wanted to calm him down a little. God knows she didn't want to be bruised or battered.
"Please, Jay," she said softly. "You're hurting me."
He came closer to her, still holding that shoulder in his massive muscular grip. His face darted against hers, his lips touching her eyelids and nose before coming to rest upon her mouth. He kissed like a vacuum cleaner, dragging the breath out of her. She felt sudden fear, wished she were somewhere else, even though she knew it was only a passing whim. She was in no danger. After all, she was Becky Ryan, the girl who could fuck any man under the table and still want more. She relinquished herself to his kiss, pressing her tits against his bare, hairy chest, rubbing her cunt against his upper thigh.
"So nice," Jay whispered into her mouth. His hand had suddenly grasped a tit and handled it roughly. "So nice. Such nice titties. Can I lick them?"
It made no difference whether she wanted him to or not. His head darted down her body and his mouth found a nipple. He kissed it, sucked it, lolled it on his tongue, bit it. His teeth gnawed, softly at first, then harder, sharper, on the nip and the soft girl flesh that supported it.
"Hey," Becky said in a low voice, "don't be so goddamn rough! Those things are fragile."
And as he nursed her boob his hands jerked roughly at the thin fabric of her pink panties, tearing them apart with the urgency of his eagerness to see what they covered. Becky mumbled a foul phrase to herself as she thought about what this night was doing to her wardrobe.
With Jay's mouth still loving her tit, his hands cupping the cheeks of her ass, Becky let herself go under his rough lovemaking. She preferred more subtlety, and under no circumstances did she enjoy the kind of biting he was doing. It hurt and it didn't turn her on in the least. Well, she should have known from his feelings about the squirrels and from his crack about "furburger" that he was basically a crude person. She couldn't expect anything else from him, really, and she was probably lucky that he didn't have her on the bed right now, slicking his peter in and out of her unprepared cunt the way Ted had done her in the woods.
She wondered if he was going to suck her pussy too. She hoped so. It helped lubricate her for the fucking that seemed right now to be very imminent. God, she hoped he didn't try drilling in a dry hole!
Jay arose in haste, caught her up in his arms, and tossed her onto the bed. She squealed from real, not simulated fright, as she felt herself being thrown, but the immediate landing on the softness of the mattress calmed her slightly. She lay on her side looking at Jay as he stood beside the bed. His cock jutted into the air proudly, and once more she wondered at its size, its thickness, wondered if it would not split her apart on insertion. One thing was sure, she knew. If he tried to shove it to her now, before she'd gotten moist enough in the cunt, he would hurt the hell out of her.
He came nearer and nearer, his cocktip only inches from her face. Her fingers stole out and circled round it, their points barely able to meet round its massive shaft.
"Eat it," Jay cooed to her, pushing himself nearer her face. His cock touched her nose, rubbed her upper lip. She found her mouth opening in spite of her fear, and, whether she actively willed it or not, Jay's prick had slipped inside her oral cavity.
Becky opened her mouth as wide as she could to allow his penis entrance. Even so it was a tight fit, and, due to its length, she was only able to suckle the portion of it nearest to and including the head. And that was almost enough to choke her. Its heavy bulk pressed upon her tongue, slid along that wet carpet toward her tonsils, filling her mouth with its thickness. Her cheeks bulged out as she tried to take as much of Jay's peter between her lips as she could manage, but she knew that this was a lost cause from the beginning. Her mouth would only stretch so far, and the size of this prick had tested her to those limits.
And then, without taking his cock from her suck, he had put himself onto the bed, straddling her chest. His knees pinned her arms, and she gasped round his dick at the heaviness of the pressure on her. He seemed like a huge dead weight atop her, and she knew that she would die soon, with his prick in her throat, strangled or crushed. Whichever came first. It didn't matter anymore. The only thing in her life right now was the cock in her gullet. Its probing jabs seemed to touch portions of her throat that even her food bad never passed.
"Come on, suck!" be challenged, pushing his dick in and out. His body shook as he thrust himself in the mouth fuck, and Becky knew that a death which released her from this almost unbearable experience would be a welcome visitor indeed.
His hands touched her cheeks, pushed in on them as she sucked despairingly at him. There was no way she could take him all, and the constant punching in of her cheeks was making his cock seem ever so much larger in her desperately churning orality. "Please," she mumbled, her words muffled by the size of him.
And then the cloud passed over and the stars began to shine, and Jay was off her chest, his cock now wet and hard and from its appearance in this angle at least, much larger than it had seemed before it entered her lips. Thank God, she thought, Now we fuck. And then I can get the hell out of here.
Jay snuggled beside her, his brawny football player's body monopolizing most of the bedspace. His hands clutched her tits, felt and fondled them, rubbed the flesh of her belly, tugged lightly at her cuntfloss, slid themselves up and down the slice of her crotch. She felt herself growing moist and dewy with anticipation as he played with her pussy, but she knew that she was still not ready to absorb the pounding of his enormous cock. She hoped he would hurry up and bend his head, eat her twat as she bad eaten his prick. Then, she knew, she would be oiled and primed for his entrance.
"What a lovely thing," he said with a sly smile. His hand closed over the plump mound of her vagina, his palm grinding against her pussyhairs. She found herself thrusting in his grip, shoving her cunt tight against his cuddling hand. The wetness of her was touching his palm. He couldn't help but be aware of it. The delicious fragrance of her cunt, growing ever more ready to be pronged, seemed to fill the room as Becky lubricated herself in anticipation of his cock.
And then his hands were on her waist, turning her over till she lay upon her belly, her legs outspread. Oh, she thought. He wants to do it doggie style. Well, maybe It will go in easier from that angle. In fact, her past experience led her to feel certain that it would be a much more satisfying angle of implantation.
Now she lay on her belly, her ass cheeks jutting high into the air, his hand buried between her thigh junctions, her hips beginning to move rhythmically as he stroked her. Becky was nearly ready.
"I don't think I can wait," she told him. "Are you gonna put it me soon? Please, Jay, real soon? Huh?"
"Oh, baby, am I gonna put it in you?" he sighed, his hands cupping and squeezing the nicely rounded cheeks of Becky's ass. She writhed under his touches, pushing her ass up into the air that he might have all the more leverage to play with it. As she did, her hands grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed. She thrust it beneath the pit of her stomach to raise herself into the air that he might have better access to her ever-wetting cunt.
"What a pretty ass," he mused, his fingers tickling their way across the tight yet supple flesh of her buttocks. "The first time I saw you, I said to myself that girl has the greatest ass." His head moved close beside hers, his hand toying in her hair. "I wanted you as soon as we first met. And I knew I could have you, too! They told us the girls who were gonna take us around might fuck if we asked them, but Becky, the minute I saw you I knew that you would fuck. I could tell. It was in your eyes. I could tell you liked me, tell you would do anything for me. Would you do anything for me?"
"Oh, God, Jay," she sighed, trying to sound desperately anxious for his body, "I'd do anything you asked me to! Anything at all! You name it! All I want is that cock of yours, in me!" She hoped she sounded convincing enough. Christ, was she tired.
His face slid from beside hers, and his words grew more distant. "Becky," he said, over and over again, "Becky, Becky--" She felt his hands on her ass once more, then they were cupping her waist, and she knew that he was behind her, ready to make insertion. Becky summoned up images of every description--of herself sucking off famous Hollywood stars, rock musicians, sexy politicians--even the picture of her and Dave Shearing going at it on his bed. She dug her crotch into the sheet beneath her, trying to splay herself so that her cunt lay open and she could frictionize her clitoris. She had to be at least a little more moist when he put it in her if she wanted to live through the experience with a whole pussy.
The taste of his cock still clung to her lips as she nestled her hands beneath her chin, her eyes closed dreamily. Becky was grinding her cunt into the mattress, relaxing as she felt her telltale wetness begin to flow inside her tunnel. It would be all right, she told herself. Jay's hands cupped the cheeks of her ass, his hands strong, enormous in their power. She thought once again of the picture she had fantasized earlier, of her slim, lithe girlhood irrevocably in the grasp of the massive football-playing guy. She would be helpless in his clutches, Becky mused, her tongue flicking out to lick lightly along her upper lip.
Jay insinuated himself further between her upside-down legs, pushing Becky's thighs to their fullest extension. Muscles in her hips began to ping a little from the stretching and she wiggled her belly uncomfortably. She felt his hands teasing and tugging at the tight flesh of her buttocks, pinching, pulling, caressing. Fingers traced up and down her cloven crotch, knuckles brushing the open lips of her pussy.
"Umm," Becky sighed, "that feels nice. Please hurry, Jay, I want it now!"
He bent low across her, his head coming in by Becky's ear, his hand parting the blonde locks that he might whisper directly to her. "Are you ready for it?" he husked. "Are you ready to get it right in your beautiful ass?"
"Oh, yes," Becky gushed, "please fuck me now!" So I can get dressed and get going, she added mentally.
Jay raised himself once more. She could feel the heavy thumper of his penis bouncing against her ass, its bulk still amazing to her, even though she'd already sucked it and felt it. Guided now, she could tell by its determined slithering, his fingers circled round its impressive barrel, she felt the tip of Jay's cock scooting up and down her sliced heartland. Obligingly, Becky pulled her tummy in and hoisted her tail higher, that the mouth of her puss might be more available to him.
"Hey," she called, turning her head as far as she was able, "you're poking in the wrong hole." The point of the brawny boy's cock had just touched at Becky's anal spout.
Jay's reply was to clench his hard calloused palms tight round Becky's waist. His prickhead pushed insistently at the pretty blonde's asshole. She squirmed as he began to give tentative shoves.
"Wait a minute," she pleaded, "you're putting it in the wrong place."
It was uncomfortable as hell now. Jay's prick was starting to dig its way up Becky's never-violated hole. Only the very point of the head was so far imbedded in her unbelievably constricted ass, but that meager presence was enough to make her vision blur into vague swirling shapes of lights and stars.
"Jay!" she yelled, praying frantically that she might gain his attention, apprise him of the terrible mistake he was making. Dear God, she thought. Is the boy a virgin? Doesn't he know any better? "Jay!" she repeated. "Stop right now!"
And then his hands grabbed hard at her sides, till she knew the imprint of his fingers would remain with her the rest of her life. An unbelievable searing agony coursed upward from Becky's asshole. The cock was pushing defiantly at her reluctant sphincter muscles and she knew that if she resisted she would die. But, nonetheless, she could not allow herself to relinquish her control. She could not live with that monstrous cock lodged in the virgin tunnel of her ass, and it was only a question of how she would die.
Then suddenly the sphincter muscle popped in defeat and the entire bulbous head of Jay's prick was inside her anal slot. The feeling was indescribable. She knew that her body was being ripped open and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
Becky screamed, her cry beginning in a low keening moan and rapidly modulating upward to a shrill cry of pain and fright. Nothing that had ever happened to her was so awful as this! Not even when Ted had raped her in the woods! Compared to the excruciating presence of Jay's prickpoint in her protesting ass, the intrusions of Ted's cock had been tender and loving!
Jay's hand slipped upward and tangled itself in Becky's trailing blonde locks. He gave a jerk on the hair he held, and the terrified girl's head snapped back with a jolt. Now there were searing pains in her neck as muscles tensed themselves to their limit. She was looking at him upside down now as her head pulled back, and the expression on his face chilled her blood.
"I told you I wanted your ass," he said, with an evil grin that doubtless he meant to be a sexy smile. The cast of his face, seen at the odd, unnatural angle, made Becky think instantly of a representation of Satan.
He thrust her head forward and she felt her face sag against the bed. A hand touched her neck, marveled that nothing was broken. The feel of his cock in her ass was still painful beyond comparison, but it was being overshadowed by a tremendous numbness emanating from the violated opening. It was like getting Novocaine before having a tooth extracted.
"What an ass!" Jay exulted, his fingers rubbing and tickling it. Becky was only vaguely aware of the touch of his fingers. She thanked God for sending that deadening of feeling to her anal quarters, rejoiced that she could no longer distinguish the veins in the head of Jay's prick as they pumped blood into his steely organ.
And then her entire body convulsed with anguish as Jay's cock pressed forward in its lodgement. New areas of her ass that had not yet been ravaged by his presence suddenly erupted into livid groans of protest. The momentary numbness at her hole itself had not been permanent, had only been a cruel joke her body was playing upon her!
Becky's teeth chattered uncontrollably as Jay's cock slid further into her constricted rectal chute. Oh Jesus! was he going to shove it clear into her stomach? She felt sick, nauseous. Her eyes swam in delirium and her guts churned in fright. And still, like the advancing Juggernaut, the shaft of him pressed further and further up her ass, each fraction of additional entrance registering violent pain in Becky's mind.
"Please, please," she whispered, her voice trembling with the effort of speaking. What in the name of God had she gotten herself into? Christ! she winced as she felt more and more of his prick entering her. It wasn't worth it! It wasn't worth it at all! Visions of her childhood swept before her eyes, the happy, innocent days when she had been unaware that boys and girls were constructed differently between their legs, the days when she had had no inkling of the mechanics of sex. As he fucked her ass like a rumbling tank she wept for her lost virginity, sobbed for the uncountable number of guys she had fucked since coming to State University, spilled her tears for the fruits of her sexual awakening.
It had all come to this, all those happy moments of mutual joy on a bed or on a floor or wherever she and her guy of the hour could find enough space to get it on. It had come to this, indeed, lovely Becky Ryan, lying on a bed in a fancy motel with a guy she had been pimped to just like any common street slut, and that guy's cock slowly making its way up the pain-filled tunnel of her ass. She wanted to die for the shame of it all!
When Jay had imbedded himself fully in Becky's rectal chute, when he had probed and stretched the entire depth of her tight channel, he began to fuck her in earnest His cock slicked in and out, his ass shaking muscled hips as he stuck it to her again and again. Oooh, God, he thought wildly, relishing the tight squeeze of her ass walls. This is the best ever! Jesus, he had wanted her, ever since he saw her, ever since the coach here at State had taken the visiting boys aside and told them that the young girls assigned to be their guides were under instructions to do anything the boys wanted. Anything, the coach had repeated with a sly wink.
And he knew, knew as he shafted his peter back and forth along the snug lining of her anal passage, knew that this girl, his own personal whore while he was here, was the finest piece of ass of them all. Oh, she pretended to be uncomfortable as she got herself brown-holed. All the girls back home did too, but none of them bad ever refused him, not once they'd gotten a look at that monster of a prick swinging between his legs. And besides, he was a star. He'd won who knew how many games, won them by his own incredible talents on the gridiron. Girls really liked that. To know they were getting fucked by a guy who was going places.
"Come on, come on!" he hissed, his teeth clenched with the exertion of fucking her tight slot, "shake it, you goddamn beautiful whore! you out of sight slut!"
His hips were jerking now, and his cock was plowing her but good. Becky's head lay flat against the bed, her shoulders shaking as she took him again and again, to his fullest penetration. Her hips were trembling, though not like his, and her skin was icy pale.
"Move your ass!" Jay commanded, and he began to push and pull on her waist, jerking her back and forth as he shafted in and out. He wasn't far from coming now, and he wanted her to get the full benefit of this. After all, wasn't be as big a star in the sack as on the field?
Becky felt her hips pivoting and swiveling under Jay's direction. She had no muscle control left anywhere, and so she allowed herself to be used as he wished. She knew that never in a million years could she describe to anyone the horrors of what she felt right now, with his cock fucking her innocent ass. She knew that never in a million years could she forget the horrors she knew now, erase from her memory the agony of what he was doing to her--no, what she had allowed to be done to her. It was her fault too. She had been the one who allowed herself to be put in this situation. The sorority had only been the vehicle. She could have told them all to get screwed--that Becky Ryan wasn't about to peddle her ass for anyone else's convenience.
But no. Becky Ryan had gone along with what was expected of her. Jesus! her brain screamed as the cock within her gave the telltale symptoms of approaching ejaculation. As soon as this was over, she was going to tell the Sigma Alpha girls what she thought of them, what they could do with their fucking sisterhood! They weren't worth it at all!
Jay grunted heavily, then sucked in his breath hard, two or three times running, and his cock pressed forward into Becky as far as it would reach. She was beyond feeling when the come-vent at its tip winked open and pissed forth a hot load of juice and jism that seemed to be flowing right into her stomach, up her throat. She could taste it on the back of her tongue, she was positive. It didn't matter.
His come flooded her like an overflowing river, and he quivered and shook inside her body. God, she prayed, I'm glad it's over. He had cornholed her, she had survived the harrowing ordeal, and all she wanted to do now was go, go somewhere she could be alone, could come to terms with her battered privacy.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Becky walked through the night-darkened streets of Henderson as though every devil in Hell were on her trail. Her body screamed its agony through her bewildered brain at every step, and her legs' movement activated the most terrible pains in the core of her womanhood. Again and again she touched a wondering hand beneath the hem of her short skirt, felt the throbbing hole that Jay had abused carnally, and brought her fingers up before her eyes, unable to believe that she was not streaming blood from the savage penetration of his huge phallus.
As soon as his cock had flopped limply from her semen-drenched ass, the juice-dripping head smug and smiling. Becky had rolled over onto bet back, winced at the tenderness of her abused bottom, and slid into her clothing. She had refused his offer to drive her home, explaining that she always walked whenever she could, for the exercise, and with a smile that belied the maddening fury of her heart, she made her departure.
She couldn't go back to the dorm tonight. No, not to face Marjie's know-it-all expression. And, she knew so clearly now, she had something of importance to do first.
She had to go to the Sigma Alpha house, beard the lions in their own den. She had to make it clear to the girls she had been so anxious to please, to become a comrade with, that she was disgusted and sickened by what they had so blithely arranged for her. And, when that was done, when she bad said her mind, torn the cheap sorority pledge pin from her heaving breast and thrown it to the floor that she might grind it underfoot before their shocked eyes--then, then she would take her final leave of them. Once more she would be Becky Ryan, individual, person in her own right, not merely a plaything, a toy that could be given away to any brutish child seeking amusement
"My God-given body is my own," Becky repeated over and over as she walked, the rhythm of the words adapting itself to the steady rhythm of her feet and the swaying of her pain-wracked body. She hummed the words, sang them, whispered them, made them her marching tune. And when she had done what she had to do, her body would truly once more be her own. Oh, God, she thought savagely. She was looking forward to the confrontation that lay ahead.
She turned the corner of Sorority Row, looked down the long street, her eyes dwelling upon each of the brightly lit houses, studying savagely the neon letters that decorated each of them. A moment's halt there on the end of the street brought home to her in ever-increasing awareness the pain that emanated from her raped ass, and she knew she had to force herself to walk on.
Becky stepped gingerly up the steps of the Sigma Alpha porch. Each time she lifted her legs she hurt in a new place, and she didn't believe she could really make the climb without falling down and screaming her agony to an uninterested world. But ascend she did, and her hand fixed determinedly on the doorknob. She gave it a turn and stepped into the hallway of the house, her eyes blazing and her breath coming heavily from her slightly parted lips.
A face peeped round the corner of the parlor entrance. It was Carolyn, one of the actives. She smiled a greeting.
"Is Audrey in tonight?" Becky asked, her words crisp, cold, clipped.
"Uh, I think so," Carolyn replied, taken aback by the harsh tone in which the blonde pledge was speaking. She pointed up the stairs. "If she is, she's in her room."
Without another word Becky gathered her endurance together and made her way toward the steps. She looked with sinking heart at their steepness, then brought one leg forward, placing her foot on the bottom stair. The second was easier, but every foot of progress she made brought agonizing reminders of the ordeal through which she had just come. When she stood finally at the head of the staircase, the only emotion that stirred her breast was rage. Had Audrey been before her now, Becky would have torn the
CHAPTER president's eyes out, pulled her hair from her head, lacerated and scratched her body in retaliation for her own degradation.
There were half a dozen rooms on this end of the second floor. Becky didn't know which was Audrey's. The easiest method of finding out was obvious.
"Audrey!" she called sharply. "Audrey!"
The door at the far end of the hall opened, and the tall slim figure of the girl Becky sought suddenly materialized, framed by the doorway. Her hair was casually tousled and she wore a sheer dressing gown which clung revealingly to the mounds of her breasts and the dark region of her delta. She smiled at Becky, a smile the angry blonde could not return.
"Hi, Becky," the president of the Sigma Alpha house replied. "What can I do for you?"
Becky gritted her teeth against the rage she felt and started down the hall. The light on this floor was dim and the president could not see the gleam of determination that was distorting Becky's generally serene features.
Becky stopped in front of the other girl, her hand reaching to the nicely filled bodice of her dress. Fingers latched hold of the pledge pin there, and the same fingers ripped it off, oblivious to the slight tearing noise that came forth as the fabric holding the pin parted. She clutched the pin in her fist, squeezing tightly, and her hand whitened with the force of her anger.
"I just wanted to give you this," Becky hissed softly. "I don't think I'll be needing it any more." She placed the pin on Audrey's extended palm.
Audrey's eyes grew wide with concern. She put a hand on Becky's shoulder, felt even there the sensations that coursed the younger girl's body. "What's wrong?" she asked.
The eyes that studied her so closely, so consolingly, with so much sisterly interest and concern were Becky's undoing. She could not retain the icy glare of her anger, and her composure melted like late frost. Her face dissolved all of a sudden, as it were, and for the briefest moment it looked as if she were about to break into a laugh. Then her eyes took on a wrinkled squinting look and they slid shut and then open once more, and her lower lip trembled quaveringly, and Becky Ryan burst into the tears she had denied herself throughout her ordeal.
"Oh, God," Audrey whispered, putting her arms round Becky and drawing the sobbing girl against her. "What happened?" She cuddled Becky's head against her shoulder and her hand stroked soothingly at the golden hair that was now so disarrayed from Jay's rough pulling and jerking.
"It was just awful," Becky wept, her tears dampening the shoulder of Audrey's gown, her arms sliding round the other girl's waist. Somehow Audrey seemed to fill almost a maternal void in Becky's suddenly disarranged mind. Audrey was appreciably taller than the long-limbed blonde girl, and Becky felt as she had when she was a child and her troubles had sent her to cry on her mother's shoulder.
She looked upward slightly, noting the sympathy in Audrey's eyes, and reassurement flooded her body. Perhaps all wasn't lost after all. Perhaps there was someone who really cared about her, about her troubles, about Becky as a person and not just as a sex object.
"Come on inside," the older girl said, leading Becky through the door, closing it behind them. This was the first time Becky had ever been inside the president's room here at the
CHAPTER house, and she was surprised at its comfortable appearance.
Audrey helped her to sit down on the bed, noting the look of sudden, wincing reluctance as Becky's ass touched the mattress. Her hand touched the younger girl's side, directing her round to lie upon her tummy. That was better, Becky thought. She stretched out on Audrey's soft bed and rested her chin on her hands. Audrey pulled a chair close by the bedside and sat down upon it. She touched Becky's hair once more.
"Now I want you to tell me what happened to you," she commanded, and her soft musical voice held such power Becky was unable to resist the charge. She wiped at her eyes and choked back a last sob before beginning.
"Tonight," she mumbled, "at the motel-where I went with Jay."
"Jay?" Audrey interrupted.
"Jay," Becky repeated, "my date. The football guy I was assigned to escort today." Audrey nodded in understanding and Becky went on. "I knew I was supposed to--you know, go to bed with him and all, but--oh, God! It was horrible! He made me--"
"Oh, dear," Audrey said. "Were you a virgin, Becky?"
Becky shook her head hastily. "No, not exactly," she answered. "I just never did it-there--never before."
Audrey's eyes narrowed. "I think I understand what you mean," she said. "Did he force you to have anal intercourse with him?"
Becky nodded.
"Oh," said Audrey, "you poor girl! I think I know just how you feel. And naturally you blame the sorority for making you take on the assignment in the first place. I can understand that. But, believe me, Becky, we don't send our girls out to be used like that. You should have defended yourself."
Becky thought of the size of Jay's body, of the chances she would have had should she have put up a struggle to defend the honor of her intact asshole. She couldn't help but smile ironically at the thought.
Audrey saw the smile and flashed one of her own in response. "But then," she added, "I'll bet he was a great deal bigger than you, wasn't he? What could you do but submit?" Her hand stroked Becky's shoulder blades, calming the heaving of the blonde girl's body.
"Did he climax inside you?" she asked after a while. Becky signified that he did. "Oh," Audrey sighed. "Tell me, did he make an insertion in your vagina after that?"
Becky tried to recall.
"I don't think so," she said. "No, I'm pretty sure he didn't."
Audrey got up from her chair, taking Becky's hand as she did. "Well, we shouldn't take any chances," she declared. "If he did enter your vagina after analyzing you, there's a chance that you might get an infection. Come along and we'll get you cleaned up right now."
Becky stepped to the floor, her legs still sending that song of excruciating pain, but now, knowing that she had a friend in Audrey, a friend concerned about her welfare, the hurt wasn't so bad.
Audrey led the way. "The benefit of being president," she smiled, "is that your apartment here has a private bathroom. The other girls who live in the house have to share one, dorm style. But I guess you know all about dorm style living, don't you, Becky?" she added, opening a door at the back of her small living quarters.
The girls entered the private bathroom attached to Audrey's dwellings, and Audrey knelt upon the floor to start the flow of water into a pink tub. Becky sat down upon the commode seat to wait. Audrey looked up at her.
"How does your stomach feel, Becky?" she asked thoughtfully.
"I don't how," Becky replied. "It's a little queasy, maybe."
"Do you think you'd like an enema to clean out your bowels?"
Becky thought with a giggle of the really weird sensations she'd bad as a child when her mother had administered enemas to her. She thought of lying totally nude on a bathroom rug while a hose was inserted up her ass and soapy water squeezed into her tummy. It had always been just a little embarrassing. "No," she smiled, "I don't think so."
Audrey shrugged. "There," she said, inserting her hand into the water which now half-filled the tub. "I think that will be just fine. Now you take off your clothes and hop right into the tub, and I'll help you get clean all over. We'll just wash that dirty boy off your body!"
And then she was gone, with a smile back over her shoulder at Becky, who had risen from her seat. Becky's hand brushed fitfully at her disarranged hair, wiped at a remnant of the tears she had spilled, and then her fingers applied themselves to undoing the fastenings of her clothes.
She stepped out of the dress, removed her stockings and shoes, and was ready for the tub. Her poor, almost brand-new bra and panties had been so ripped and torn that she had discarded them in Jay's motel room. Let the dirty son of a bitch keep them for souvenirs, she thought now as she lifted one shapely but stiff leg and climbed into the bathtub.
Ummm, that did feel nice! The water was tingling hot and it made her toes crinkle as she stood in it. And when she sat down there was a momentary tenderness round the opening of her mistreated ass, but it soon passed, and she found herself basking in the deep tubful of water, shaking herself so that her young tits wiggled just a little and made ripples in her wet covering. Something of her old, natural ease was returning to her in the luxury of soaking in the tub, and, slowly but surely, she could feel the advent--after what seemed an eternity's absence, though it could be measured in terms of hours--of the real Becky.
The door opened from the bedroom and Becky looked up to see Audrey entering once more. The light coming from behind the tall older girl made her body stand out in stunning outline in the sheerness of her gown, and Becky realized for the first time that Audrey clothed was stunning, but Audrey so exposed was indeed a goddess in her classic beauty of figure.
Audrey dropped to her knees, resting her hands on the edge of the cool pink tub. "Feeling better?" she asked. Becky nodded with a smile. "Here, then," Audrey continued, taking in hand a washcloth and a bar of soap. "Let me help you get all bright and shiny again. The sooner we get you fixed up, the sooner you can forget all about that horrible guy."
She began to soap Becky's white back, rubbing the cloth across the younger girl's body in long languid strokes. When she had smeared the suds on thoroughly, she said, "Now you just lean back and rinse yourself off," and, as Becky followed the instructions she had been given, Audrey took the cloth, resoaped it, and began to wipe carefully at Becky's face. The warm wetness of the soap and water, the enveloping humidity of the cloth itself--both made Becky sigh in satisfaction. She felt Audrey's hand through the cloth, stroking the soap carefully across her, as tenderly as if it were a baby that was being washed instead of a mature and developed young lady.
The cloth left her face, came back, this time only moist and not covered with soup, and rinsed the suds from Becky. She closed her eyes and arched her face upward to assist Audrey, turning slightly toward the other girl as she did so, and in so doing she stirred the water, splashing some out on Audrey's own face.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Becky apologized, but Audrey only smiled.
"I'd better take this thing off before I get all wet," the older girl said, putting down the wash cloth. She got to her feet and in a delicate but sensual motion pulled her gown over her head and tossed it out the door behind her. Nude to the skin, she dropped down once more.
Becky stifled a gulp of admiration as she took her first look at the bare extent of her friend's body. Audrey was indeed a finely built lass, all long legs and fine firm breasts, their nipples large and protruding. Her pubic hair was much darker than the light brown mane that crowned her bead, and it curled in tight silky waves along her plump mons veneris.
"That's better," Audrey grinned, and she took the washcloth once more in hand. Soap was applied to Becky's neck and soap was rinsed away, and then Audrey set aside the cloth and rubbed her damp hands on the bar of cleansing balm. "Lift yourself up a little," she told Becky, and the blonde girl complied.
Audrey's bands began to rub their cargo of cleanliness onto Becky's breastbone and, almost imperceptibly, quite casually, onto the ripe young mounds of the freshman girl's titties. Becky giggled at Audrey's touch, recalling how often her breasts had been rubbed and fondled just this way but with sexual intent.
And now, even though she knew full well that she was only being assisted by a friend, a friend concerned about her well-being, anxious to help her, Becky was embarrassed to find that her fits were reacting in their old familiar fashion. As Audrey rubbed them with soap they seemed to be engorging, growing fuller, lifting up proudly of their own accord. Audrey smiled calmly as if to assure Becky that it was all right, and her fingers circled round a nipple, rubbing the soap vigorously onto the erecting little point, clipping it between fingers to make sure it had received its full quota of cleansing.
"There," Audrey was saying, but her voice seemed to be far away. "Now you just dunk your breasts and rinse them off too," and Becky obediently settled down in the water to lave her breasts in the warm bath.
She popped up again, tits dripping but unsoapy, and looked to Audrey for instructions. The older girl was standing by the tub now.
"We'll have to clean you out underneath, too," Audrey smiled. "Here. You turn round, and get on your knees. Hold yourself up on the sides of the tub, and hold your bottom out of the water."
Her tone was so confident that Becky had no thought of rejecting the offer, so she did as Audrey commanded, holding her ass above the surface of the water.
"Let's see," Audrey said. "This is more complicated than I thought. I know. I'll sit down on the head of the tub," and she did so, her feet in the water, splashing bubbles onto Becky's thighs.
Becky gave a little gasp as Audrey began to rub soap with both hands onto the cheeks of her ass. It was no longer as excruciatingly tender as it had been, thanks to the soaking it had received, but it was nevertheless sensitive to the soft caresses it was feeling now as Audrey's hands soaped it clean.
"I'll bet that feels better than what that awful boy did to you, doesn't it, Becky?" Audrey called, and Becky nodded in sincere agreement Audrey's hands were so soft and gentle that Becky allowed her emotions to surrender themselves. She knew that nothing evil was going to happen to her this time.
She giggled softly when Audrey's fingers touched the still somewhat delicate petal of her asshole itself.
"Tickle?" Audrey asked. "Becky, does it still hurt?"
"Not very much," Becky replied honestly.
"Well, I'll be very careful about this, but I have to clean it inside too. Now you just get ready, honeybunch, and be very brave for me. All right?"
And while Becky was still nodding she felt Audrey's finger, erect, wet, soap-drenched, probe at the tight-closed entrance. She strove to relax her sphincter as much as she could, and the finger slipped inside very gently, very softly. In one way the feeling reminded her very much of having Jay's cock up that same bole, but this time it was also quite different. There was none of that brutal jabbing and poking, none of the stiff thrusts of a massive, engorged presence. Instead it was only the delicate sliding up and down her anal channel of a slim finger, a finger that took care to be tender, considerate of Becky's outraged condition.
And the washing out of her ass was over almost before she knew it Audrey's finger slipped from Becky's hole with a little squish, and she felt water rinsing over the exposed opening. Her thighs squirmed a little at the cleansing flow, and she made as if to sit down. Audrey's hand touched one of her buttocks and Becky stopped in mid-descent.
"Not yet," Audrey smiled as Becky looked back over her shoulder. "We have to dean you out thoroughly." And as she spoke, her index and middle fingers, soapy again, slid themselves up and down Becky's crotch, from ass to beaver, working the purifying suds into Becky's golden thatch of pubic hair.
It tickled just a little, and Becky found herself giggling audibly at the ministrations of Audrey's expert fingers. And, to her great surprise, she found a wet finger rubbing softly at her labia, spreading them apart, slipping itself into the tunnel of her cunt! Becky stiffened as the finger worked itself inside her, rubbing soap into her pussy walls in screwing circles, the knuckle of that finger tantalizingly brushing near, but not directly upon, her sensitive clitoris. The very nearness of the contact so casually ignored was what made Becky squirm now. She was embarrassed beyond measure to find that her cunt shaft was growing moist. She hoped Audrey wouldn't notice it, wouldn't get the wrong idea about her.
"There, now," Audrey said, rinsing off the last traces of soap. She had cleansed Becky internally and externally, and, in spite of the sheepishness the blonde felt about her involuntary pussy lubrication, she did have to admit that she felt one hundred percent better than she had when she left Jay's room at the Sands Motel. Once more she knew that she was clean and whole and she could look other people in the face again. Even Marjie, who had suddenly turned out to be so catty, so bitchy.
Audrey dried her hands and calves and feet and stood on the rug beside the tub. "I think you're all right," she said. "There shouldn't be any more danger of infections or anything. So," she added, starting into her bedroom, "you just dry off and come on out. Oh," as her eyes took in Becky's discarded clothing. "Don't you wear undies?"
"Most of the time," Becky smiled. "Panties, at least. But that rotten bastard tore mine up tonight. He was that anxious to get me into bed."
"Hmm," Audrey observed. "I don't think I have a bra your size. Mine would be like tents on you, but I have some panties you can borrow if you want. Just come on out when you're ready and we'll take a look."
When the other girl had gone, Becky opened the drain in the tub and lay squirming and squiggling in the water as it flowed out. When it was all gone, she stood up reluctantly, took a towel from the wall, and rubbed herself dry. She bent to pick up her clothes, wrapped the towel round herself, and stepped into the other room where Audrey sat on the bed, clad once more in her shimmering sheer nightie.
Becky came to her as Audrey patted the bed beside herself. "Sit down," she called, "and let's have a girl-to-girl talk, all about you and what you're going to do."
Her arm slipped round
Becky's waist, as two fond sisters might sit together talking and clasping, and Becky felt her hip press against the other girl's.
"Thank you, Audrey," she said softly.
"You don't have to thank me," Audrey smiled. "After all, even if you're only a pledge now, still, you're going to be a Sig Alph, and Sig Alphs stick together. That is, you do want to be a Sig Alph, don't you?"
Becky looked with hopeful eyes at Audrey. "I thought I didn't," she sighed, "but now I think I want to, after all"
"Of course you want to," Audrey said. "Every girl here at State would like to be a Sig Alph, but not very many can. You're special, Becky. We knew that when you came to our Rush Tea, and we were delighted when you listed us as your first choice on the rush card you filled out. We wanted you then, and we want you now.
"I know," she went on, "how upset you were about what you had to endure tonight, but believe me--if I'd known what that boy had in mind for you, I'd have told Coach Dietrich and his football-feverish mind to go straight to bell, that none of our girls had time for crude beasts like the ones he wanted to impress. And tomorrow, I promise you, Becky, I'm going to call him and tell him all about this and inform him that next year he can look elsewhere for pretty girls to use as bait."
Becky suddenly grew alarmed. She remembered the way the coach had looked at the pledges when he was inspecting them today, the unbridled lust that had filled his eyes as he glommed over their trim young bodies. She didn't want him to know that she, Becky Ryan, the lovely blonde who had rated an extra look from his frankly appraising stare, had been forced to undergo such humiliation. It would be as bad as if he'd been there, sitting in a chair by the bed, shouting encouragement to Jay as he fucked her ass.
"No," she said, "don't tell him about me."
"I wouldn't tell him it was you," Audrey smiled. "Just that one of my girls had been mistreated."
"But he'd find out," Becky protested. If he didn't know already, she thought shudderingly. Maybe Jay had called the coach, maybe the coach had called Jay to see how things were going. What if he already knew?
Audrey's hand slipped upward, taking Becky by the shoulder, turning her round to face her own open, frank countenance. Her other hand rested lightly on Becky's knee, bare below the hem of the towel in which the blonde girl was wrapped.
"It's all right," she said. "If you don't want me to tell him, I won't. But, Becky, love, this isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to a girl. I know you feel badly, that it seems as if your body baa been sold and betrayed. But there are many worse things in life, even though I hope you never have to face any of them."
She put fingers to Becky's chin, propped the young freshman's face up, met Becky's blue-eyed stare with the pleasant return of her own brown orbs. There was a flash of something Becky could not interpret in Audrey's face, and then that lovely mouth was coming towards hers, and their lips met.
Audrey's mouth brushed against Becky's, lightly, casually, innocently, and her lips pulled free, but the older girl's head withdrew only a little way. The two girls were close enough that Becky could feel the tingling tickling of Audrey's breath on her lips, and their foreheads were almost touching.
"So you're sure you still want to be a Sigma Alpha, then?" Audrey teased, and Becky felt the vibrations of the other girl's mouth as it moved, transmitted across the negligible space between them.
Moved by a sensation she could not comprehend, let alone master, Becky made her reply in a most positive and definite manner. She moved her face forward, toward Audrey's, and clamped her hot wet open mouth against her friend's.
Audrey's lips parted as Becky's touched them, and their oral openings met and clung as though their rims were coated in glue. The girls fell onto their sides on the bed, mouths pressed tight, bands clutching at one another's bodies. The only thing that mattered to Becky at that instant was the wonderful beautiful feeling she got as she kissed Audrey, and even more lovely was the marvelous sensitive action she was getting in return.
They kissed a long, long minute, holding one another fight, their bare breasts separated only by Becky's wrap-around towel and the gossamer thinness of Audrey's nightdress. And as they continued their kiss, the first kiss of passion Becky had ever shared with another girl, the lovely blonde felt fingers undoing the knot she had made in the towel that was her only garb.
Becky pulled her lips from Audrey's, reluctantly, and slid to the edge of the bed. She finished the task of untying the terrycloth round her and let it fall free. When she cast her eyes back, Audrey was once more slipping her nightie over her head. This time the nipples that sprang into view were tense, erect with excitement, and Becky fancied she could see them quivering in expectation.
Right now, nude in front of another girl and on the verge of doing something--she knew that she and Audrey were about to do something!--something she had never ever considered or dreamed of taking part in, Becky felt more vulnerable than she had at any other moment of her life. Her nudity both upset and excited her. But at the same time she also felt more feminine, more absolute in her womanhood, than ever before. Her nipples too were stiff as little rubber points, and her breasts and pussy seethed with a fire she could not control.
Audrey lay back on the bed, her gown flung aside, her arms outstretched. Like the mice who answered the call of the Pied Piper, Becky gravitated implacably toward that beckoning figure.
She oozed into Audrey's grasp, felt the other girl's arms lock around her back, sliding up and down her spine, touching her shoulder blades, dipping low to cut the cheeks of her now recuperated ass. Audrey's touch was so gentle, so sweet, so wise and knowing! Their mouths locked together once more, and Becky enjoyed the probing exploration of Audrey's soft pink tongue. It seemed to thrust its way down her throat, tickling areas of her mouth that had never before been stimulated.
Becky closed her lips round Audrey's probing linguam, sucked on it, wet it with her flowing saliva, fastened her mouth against Audrey's, pressed her face as tight on the other's as she could. The girl's fingers were teasing lazily up and down her back, bringing into vibration muscles and nerves and emotions that awakened Becky's entire body into shuddering delight.
Down between Becky's creamy thighs, her cant seemed to be crying aloud for equal time. Audrey's stimulation had enlivened the rest of her body, so the blonde girl began to shove her pussy into her friend's crotch, her legs opening as far as she could manage, causing the labia to blink apart. A sudden tremor of bliss swept Becky as her exposed ditty touched into Audrey's dark beaver and the satin hairs brushed the throbbing nub of girl-flesh. The sheer joy of it made Becky hump herself against Audrey all the harder, and she felt once more the wet juices flowing inside her cunt. She moaned softly round Audrey's thrusting tongue.
Forcefully, with a struggle, Audrey sucked her tongue back into her own mouth, lay there with her mouth resting soft and warm against Becky's.
"Do you like this?" she teased, her fingers twining in the golden hair that fell down the other girl's back.
"Uh-huh," Becky agreed, her own hands beginning to play with Audrey's hair, trying to express some of the feelings that swept back and forth in her trembling young frame.
Audrey brushed her lips once more against Becky's, then started to slide her way down the young girl's front. Her lips touched fleetingly on Becky's jaw, chin, along the pale column of her neck, kissed with a suck the hollow of her throat. She moved further down, nibbling and nipping Becky's shoulder, sliding her tongue along the girl's collarbone, then slid even further, her mouth moistening the heaving rise of Becky's left breast
"Ooooh," Becky cooed as she felt those lips gliding on her young mound, fastening at last like a little leech on her stiff, anxious pink nipple. Her whole body vibrated and her tits jumped up and down as Audrey nursed like a hungry infant. Becky put her hands on Audrey's head, unwilling that such a skilled mouth should ever cease its lovely labors, but when the older girl broke free and slid her mouth across to give similar treatment to the eager right breast, the blonde freshman did not put up any resistance.
Now Audrey was kissing her way down Becky's tummy, her tongue flicking in and out of the girl's dimpled navel, sliding like a champion skier into the tight mass of blonde curls that forested the hill of Venus rising between Becky's thighs.
Audrey sucked the tender short hairs into her mouth, pulled at them just enough to make Becky want even more of this, and then her fingers were caressing the plump flesh of the blonde pussy, making it open itself for inspection.
The pink labia spread like well-oiled doors and the wet creamy gash lay open to Audrey's delighted eyes. She flipped it with her tongue, noting with appreciation the sensitivity of it as it lay unfolded in its pearly glory. Becky's eyes were closed as transports of joy overwhelmed her young body. But when Audrey's lips fastened themselves over the exposed treasure box, the young blonde's eyes popped open and her legs began to thrash and wiggle.
Becky thrust her crotch upward, to give Audrey as much access as she needed. The soft texture of the other girl's lips and tongue were fantastically arousing, and, even though plenty of guys bad sucked her pussy for her, none of them had ever been as good as this!
Only a girl really knew how to suck a pussy, she thought with delight as Audrey gave her evidence in the case. A guy could do it after a fashion, but it took a girl to know what was really erotic. Suddenly she knew that she could mouth Audrey every bit as well as Audrey was licking her.
"Please," she called softly, "let me do you too!" It could be done, just like a 69 with a guy, she thought. And so much more fun.
Audrey seemed to pay her no attention. She continued to lick and suck at Becky's vagina, her tongue flashing occasionally to ping against the raw nub of Becky's supple clit. Each of those touches made Becky's pussy run wetter, until she knew, however irrational it might seem, that she must soon exude a torrent of juice into Audrey's nuzzling mouth.
"Oh, please," she begged, but even as she spoke she felt Audrey's tongue begin the penetration of her cunt channel itself. Her inner labia parted and the probing tongue sped upward, darting between the sweet tight walls of the tunnel.
Not even a cock inserted boldly into her twat could have made Becky jump so delightedly as she did when Audrey's penetration was effected. Her legs were up, resting on the other girl's shoulders, toes curling as they touched the flesh of Audrey's back, and she tried to raise her ass all the higher that Audrey might make deeper and deeper entrance.
Becky's cunt was wet and juicy now, the girl-fluids coating Audrey's thrusting tongue. The other girl's chin was wedged tight in Becky's crotch as she poked her tongue deeply as it could go, and Becky's legs were holding snug. As Becky felt the tongue making contact with the most sensitive portions of her sweet young cunt, she was humping her bottom up and down, precisely as she would were a guy fucking her. But guys fucking her could never compete with what she was feeling right now. This was heaven! To be loved by another girl, a beautiful girl who knew how to make another beautiful girl squeal with delight--that's what life was really all about! Guys could never compare!
And then Becky's cunt burst into flames of joy and sheer, unbridled passion as Audrey's head nuzzled tightly into it, the girl's nose brushing the blonde freshman's pulsing, throbbing love-button. Becky jerked her ass up, pressing her wet pussy hard against Audrey's face, wishing to bury the older girl's entire head in her delicious slice. She wanted this moment to go on forever, wanted nothing more from the rest of her life than to know ecstasy from the touch of female lips to her tremendously reactive pussy. She was steaming hot and streaming wet and her legs were kicking up and down, bumping hard against Audrey's back as the older girl ate cunt for all she was worth. And that all was considerable.
Audrey broke away when she knew that she would strangle from want of air if she remained at her post another second. Her head strained in the grip of Becky's thighs to raise itself upward, and she smiled with satisfaction as she saw Becky's tits bobbling up and down, nips hard and aiming straight for the ceiling, the blonde's eyes shut, her hair flying as her head shook from side to side.
Becky became aware slowly of a hand on her straining tit, and she opened her eyes, focusing them gradually to take in Audrey's smiling face next to hers. "Oh, wow," she managed to gasp, her hips still jerking, her thighs wet from Audrey's sucking and her own flow of girl-come. "Oh, wow," she repeated, sorry that she could think of nothing else to express the inutterable delights she was even now experiencing.
"Yeah," Audrey grinned, her hand beginning to cup and caress Becky's small round tit. She rolled over onto her back and spread her thighs a little.
"Your turn, Becky," was all she said, and with a squeak of glee the blonde girl was on her, kissing and feeling and sucking and going ninety miles an hour en route to the beckoning beacon of Audrey's lovely cunt.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"I love you, Audrey," Becky whispered as the two girls lay side by side on the bed, early the next morning. "I love you so much I can't tell you. I love the way you make me feel. I love the things you taught me to do. I love everything about you."
Audrey stifled Becky's words with a lingering kiss on the lips, then threw aside the sheet that covered their nude bodies and stepped to the floor. "Come on," she said. "It's time for breakfast"
"If you'll let me eat you again, I won't need any food the rest of the day," Becky teased, her fingers reaching out to stroke lazily at Audrey's thigh. The older girl's skin was tight, beautiful, just like everything else about her. Becky loved her so much, wanted nothing more from life than to spend it in bed with Audrey, living only for the sensations each of them could arouse in the other's body.
"You'd better get some real food in you, and get to classes," Audrey commanded. "Remember, Sigma Alpha requires good grades, and if you think you can spend your days in bed and still get high marks, you've got a lot to learn, Becky doll."
Reluctantly the feline young freshman crawled from the comfortable bed and stepped to the clothes she had brought with her from the bathroom last night. "Hey," she said, suddenly remembering, "didn't you say I could borrow a pair of your panties? I mean, this skirt is pretty short, and I don't want the whole world looking at my pussy. Not now, anyway. It belongs to somebody special." Audrey laughed. She fumbled through a dresser drawer and tossed Becky a yellow bikini. "My hips are a little broader than yours--"
"But beautiful," Becky simpered, feeling like a grade school girl with a sudden crush.
"Get dressed," Audrey laughed. "I have a class at eight and if you keep on, I'm gonna end up in the sack with you. Even sorority presidents have to have good grades, baby."
Becky slipped on the panties, then the rest of her clothing. "Well," she said, "I guess I'd better get over to the dorm and change. This Isn't exactly a classroom dress."
"I like it," Audrey said, eyeing the revelation of Becky's nipples in the bodice. "But aren't you forgetting something?"
"Jay tore my bra," she reminded the other girl, "and yours were too big for my poor little breasties."
"Not that," the oilier girl laughed. She held out a hand to Becky. On its palm rested the pledge pin Becky bad torn off her chest last night and returned to Audrey with such vehemence.
"Oh," and Becky reached gratefully. She took the pin, her fingers touching it as though it were a holy relic. "I nearly forgot it. Thank you, Audrey, for giving me another chance."
"We couldn't afford to lose a girl like you," Audrey smiled. She watched as Becky stepped to the mirror and repinned the little badge, right above her thumping heart.
*
*
*
*
Marjie was already gone when Becky returned to her room at the dorm. Really, she thought, it didn't matter in the least. After the words they'd had last night, when Becky was getting ready for her disastrous evening with Jay, the lovely blonde didn't really give a good goddamn if she never saw her roommate again.
This was Thursday, Becky reminded herself as she gathered up her schoolbooks and note pads for the day. She had gym at nine, biology at eleven, and--she smiled as she thought-Shearing's history class at one-thirty. Well, no more free peeks for him. There had been a time when she enjoyed tantalizing him with clothes that revealed so much of the pretty body that could never again be his; but that was all in the past. Suddenly he didn't matter any more, even as an object of revenge. Not now, not when she had at last found the love for which she had been searching. The movie she had seen in the Bentley Hall basement that long ago night came back to her, and she recalled once more the line from the song: "Funny how young lovers start as friends." It made her smile. In the person of Audrey she had combined friend and lover, and it was both funny and beautiful.
Gym class was for the first time an ordeal for Becky. She did her exercises in the gym, played basketball with the other girls, and at the proper time returned to the locker room, undressed, and took a communal shower. The sense of being nude among other girls had long since ceased to bother her, but now she found herself studying carefully the bodies around her, wondering if that lovely girl with the large tits and thinly haired cunt would be an enjoyable lover. Or how about the tall slim black girl, her skin glowing like wet ebony as she turned rhythmically beneath the shower faucet?
Becky supposed she was a lesbian now, but she was deeply committed to this new way of life, now that Audrey had opened her eyes to its beauty and wonderment. But no, damn it, she told herself angrily. She and Audrey were lovers, and in this the true culmination of her sexual existence, she would have no truck with the promiscuity that had marked her passing heterosexual phase. She would be faithful, just as Audrey would, she was positive, be faithful and constant to her.
*
*
*
*
Tuesday and Thursday meetings of his World Civilization class were the bright spots of Dave Shearing's existence. In spite of the absolute nature of her last rejection, he still harbored the hope that he might persuade Miss Becky Ryan to acknowledge his existence, discover the fact that he loved her with an abiding passion that could not be stilled by simple logic. He looked forward to those class sessions when he could at least look at her while he delivered his lectures. He waited with eager anticipation the revelation of whatever provocative costume she had chosen to wear to class each time, knowing, even as he drooled mentally with the thought, that she was only dressing to spite him, to tease him with what he couldn't have. But his affection for her, his admiration not only for her body, her sex, but for her sharp, intelligent mind as well--these caused him to overlook the source of her actions and to merely appreciate the results.
Today, he knew, even as he saw her enter, she was more beautiful than ever. And most interesting of all, she was wearing a pantsuit that revealed as little of her creamy flesh as possible. The sleeves were long, the top fitting her perfect form so loosely it could almost be called baggy, and the pants billowed rather than clung.
But there was no gainsaying the sparkle of her face, the lilt of her step. He noted with approval the proud angle at which she carried her high-set young breasts, studied the perky tilt of the sorority pledge pin that capped her left tit. He admired the casual swinging of her hips, the way her facial muscles worked as she looked round the room upon entering. Something had happened to her. He wondered what it was. Could she have found a guy and fallen in love with him since the last class meeting? Could that be it? Something, God knew, had settled upon her since the last time he'd seen her, something he couldn't explain or account for, but something which had deepened, accentuated the already stimulating femininity of this girl, the girl as far as he was concerned. Jesus, he wanted her so badly! He wanted to throw her down upon his desk and fuck her in sight of the rest of the class, anything to show her how much he loved her, how much he'd dare for her sake alone!
*
*
*
*
After Shearing's class, Becky went to the library and studied for awhile, then made her way to the sorority house. It gave her a thrill of secret joy to talk to Audrey lackadaisically in front of the other Sig Alph actives and pledges, knowing what no one else did--that she and Audrey were lovers, true lovers, grand lovers, the kind books and plays and poems were written about, the kind who shared great secret passions and died and went to heaven, there to loll in one another's arms forever and ever, sexing on clouds.
But to her great disappointment, Becky found, once she'd gotten Audrey alone where they could talk, that it wouldn't be feasible for her to come over tonight for another love-tryst. Her eyes registered the sinking feelings that swept over her then, and Audrey planted a soft, sweet, honeyed kiss on her pouting lips and told her that the whole weekend was theirs. Becky's toes wiggled inside her shoes to think that from Friday evening to Sunday evening she and Audrey would be virtually alone in the house and would be able to enjoy all they had previously experienced, and, doubtless, new, yet untested delights as well.
*
*
*
*
When she entered her room in Bentley Hall that evening she saw Marjie sitting naked in front of the mirror, fixing her makeup. Marjie looked over her shoulder and gave a shy smile of greeting.
"Hi, Beck," she said in a friendly tone. "How's it going?"
Becky shrugged as she dropped her books onto the bed and sat down to take off her shoes. Marjie got up from the mirror seat and came over to her.
"Beck," she began softly, "I've been wanting to talk to you since last night. Jeez, I don't know how to begin, but I just have to tell you how sorry I am."
"It's all right," Becky shrugged. She began to undo the buttons of her top.
"It's not all right, goddamn it!" Marjie said, her voice harsher this time. "I mean, I said some rotten things to you last night, and that note on the door was pretty low, too. I felt like shit all night and all day, wanting to apologize."
She sat down on the bed across from Becky, her eyes seeking forgiveness. "Look, Beck," she continued, "I didn't mean any of the stuff I said to you. It was just me and I was kinda mad and then when I found out what you were supposed to do--well, it just made me see red. Beck, I like to think of you as a kid sister of mine. You know, I never had any sisters or brothers, and I was kinda lonely when I was younger, you know, without anybody to boss around or show the ropes to. But, bell, you're not me, you're not my kid sister, you're my friend. I don't have the right to pull any Ten Commandments on you, especially in view of a few things I've done in my time."
"Really, Marjie," Becky protested. "You don't have to apologize to me."
"But I do," Marjie retorted. "Here my only commandment, my only Golden Rule, has always been 'If it feels good, do it!' and as soon as you try something that I don't think would feel good I start moralizing and preaching to you. God, I feel like a real bitch. But if you can forgive me, I'd be just tickled pink to keep on being your friend."
Becky smiled. The anger she bad felt against Marjie had long since begun to dissipate, and only someone more venomous than she would hold a grudge. "Look," she said, "it's all right. I mean, I said some mean things to you, too. I was kinda hoping you might have a little forgiveness for me."
Marjie's face broke into a wide grin that showed off nicely her front teeth. Becky studied the other girl's face, and then her eyes darted briefly across Marjie's nude form. For the first time since they had met, she wondered if Marjie had ever made it with another girl. She wondered what Marjie would say if she suddenly cupped those large brown-capped tits in her hands and then kissed their tips softly. Would that be a betrayal of her love for Audrey?
Yes, she decided reluctantly, it would be, in a sense. But on the other hand, it might also awaken Marjie to the true, pure joy that lay waiting for her in the realm of girl-love. Perhaps it would be the answer to Marjie's own problems of promiscuity as it had been the solution for hers. But not now. The time wasn't ripe.
"Did you, uh, stay at the sorority house last night?" Marjie was asking. Becky nodded, and what seemed to be relief streaked across the other girl's face. She'd rather be my mother than my sister, Becky thought with a grin. Same old Marjie, trying to keep her poor shy roommate in the game, even when her poor shy roommate was no longer poor and shy but calmly, voluptuously beautiful, sensitive, and, most important of all, finally enlightened about the truest joys of love.
Marjie stole a peek at Becky's wristwatch. "Oh, Gods," she moaned, "I'm late! Got a date with this guy tonight. He's a zowie fuck, but he's supposed to be waiting at the Cheap Thrills bar, and if I don't hurry up and get there, he'll be laid out under a table somewhere."
She flurried about the room, hastening her face into a state that met her approval, combing her hair with careless speed, dressing in a blur of flying arms and legs and fits. "Gotta go, Beck," she called as she went out the door.
"See you later, and we can talk some more."
*
*
*
*
Becky was lying in bed reading when the door swung open and Marjie came stomping in, about eleven-thirty that night. The short dark girl had a look of ineffable scorn on her face as she stormed across the room and threw herself upon her bed.
"Goddamn it to hell!" she yelled, thumping her fist against her pillow again and again.
Becky looked at her. Marjie's eyes drifted up and met hers, then averted themselves.
"What's wrong?" Becky asked.
"Oh, nothing," Marjie raged. "Just that sonofabitch Alan. The guy I went out with tonight."
Becky suppressed a chuckle. "Don't tell me he was drunk by the time you got to him."
"No," Marjie admitted, "but he didn't miss it by much. Do you know what that bastard did? We sat there in the Cheap Thrills, in a booth way back in the corner, and he had his prick out underneath the table, letting me feel it. But he kept on drinking, and kept on drinking, and kept on drinking, just like a goddamn fish, and the last time I put my fingers on his cock, just to make sure it was still there, you know? Well, what did he do but shoot his load all of a sudden, all over my fingers, all over the floor, everywhere! And then, when we split, you know, to go somewhere and do a little balling, he couldn't get it back up. He kinda grinned and said that was what usually happened when he had too much beer, and how would I like to try again tomorrow night?"
"Oh, Lord," Becky laughed.
"It's not funny," Marjie said. "I haven't been had in three days, and you k-now I have to have it oftener than that. Shit, what a bummer!"
She rolled off the bed and began to strip. When she was naked, she turned on the light at the vanity table and sat down in front of the mirror to take off her makeup. Every time she dabbed at her face with the cold cream she muttered "Fuck" very low, but clearly audible.
Marjie was aware of eyes upon her and she looked toward Becky's bed. It was empty. She looked up into the mirror in front of her. Becky stood behind her, holding her Snoopy nightshirt in one hand, her body bare and golden-glowing.
"Was it really as bad as you think, Marj?" Becky asked.
"Was it?" Marjie snorted. "It was worse. This guy has seven inches if he's got a centimeter, but he doesn't know when to tell the bartender he's had enough. Oh,! heard about him before I went out with him. But I thought sure as hell I could keep him sober enough to make sure I got punched good. How wrong can you be, Martin?" she added wryly.
Becky wondered if the time were indeed ripe. Maybe this was the opportunity she had been craving all evening, the chance to initiate Marjie into the secret joys of lesbianism. Certainly her roommate was horny, frustrated, angry. Would she be receptive? That was the question, and there was only one way to find out. She certainly hoped the answer was yes, because she wanted Marjie to share what she had learned in Audrey's arms, wanted the stacked body of her roomie to discover how great loving could be, how much more satisfying than with a guy who was all muscle and prodding and shoving his cock halfway down a girl's throat, strangling her on his manhood, or, even worse, sticking it in a dry channel, jacking himself off, squirting his come, and pulling out, leaving the poor girl writhing and craving her own release. You didn't have that problem with a girl. You didn't have to wait for her to get her prick up, bard enough to use, didn't have to worry about her coming and getting soft before you'd gotten over the hump yourself. Girls could go on and on until both of them were satisfied, and when they were finished, it was all clean, none of that slimy juice flowing in sticky oozes out of your hole and onto the mattress so that you had to sleep in the wet. Girls were best of all.
Becky bad convinced herself. Now she only had to convince Marjie. Somehow it was very important to her that Marjie learn what she bad been taught last night. She felt possessed by a sense of mission, and she knew suddenly how the early preachers felt when they went out to spread the gospel among the heathens, knew how they could endure without flinching the most gruesome tortures and torments. It was because they believed implicitly in what they were doing. And so did she. She believed as deeply as she believed anything else in her life that this was the best way to make love that had ever been devised, and she wanted to make Marjie know it as well.
She put her bands lightly upon Marjie's shoulders, one on each side of the girl's neck, and she stooped as she did so. Marjie's face came around, a question forming on lips which immediately found themselves smacking against Becky's. The girl's eyes went wide in shock and she tried to pull her mouth free of her roommate's sucking kiss.
Her arms flopped in panic and she began to wobble upon the backless seat she was perched upon. Becky held onto her like a leech, mouth wet and open against hers, hands pressing Marjie's cheeks, forcing the prolongation of that kiss. Marjie tried to shake herself free, her tits bouncing, but as she struggled she found herself losing her balance and toppling backward.
Becky rolled with her, cushioning Marjie's fall against the soft carpeted floor, refusing to break the contact of their mouths. Though she was a few pounds lighter than the buxom Marjie, and though she had never been especially strong, Becky found that it was no difficult matter to drag Marjie with her across the floor to a point where both could stretch out.
Marjie was no longer resisting forcibly, and, though she did not reciprocate the kiss she was enduring, she did not try to push her roommate's attacking face from hers either. Her hands lay limp at her sides, and her legs were closing over one another, as it in an attempt to shield the dark mat of her beaver.
One of Becky's hands closed itself over Marjie's right breast, fingers squeezing and teasing the dark knob of nipple that capped the full ripe mound. Marjie groaned at the touch and her chest arched upward, forcing the tit into Becky's grip. Her thighs unclasped now, and began to spread apart little by little.
Becky decided it was time to change her approach. She took her lips from Marjie's, slid across the girl's upper body at an oblique angle, and sucked a nipple into her mouth. At the same time she was so lying that her own left breast was nuzzling Marjie's closed lips, its nipple stiff, erect, knocking to gain admittance.
"Please, Becky, what in the name of God are you trying to do?" Marjie whispered, but as she spoke her I mouth moved around slightly and Becky's nipple made the penetration it sought. Marjie's lips closed suddenly round the rubbery pink nub and sucked at it as if in amazement. Her mouth slithered open, wet, questing, and the entire point of Becky's fit oozed home. Lips and tongue went into action and Marjie found herself aching to reciprocate what Becky was even then doing to her own full breast.
As Becky nursed for the first time at her roommate's ample chest, licking and loving the teat that filled her mouth so fully, she let her fingers glide swanlike down Marjie's plumpish tummy, pinching and pulling at the dainty folds of flesh. And then she was tangling and untangling the hair in her friend's crotch, giggling round that sucked nipple as she felt the mossy growth. Its appearance was that of fine wire, but its texture was satin-soft, the tendrils of hair curling in Becky's twisting fingers like strands of thin unwoven silk.
Becky could wait no longer. Freeing her lips reluctantly from Marjie's nipple, she lifted herself, raised her body above the prone figure of her roommate, and let her head descend to explore all the more closely that delightfully soft cunt her hand had discovered. Her crotch hung above Marjie's face, and the puzzled girl's eyes were peering upward, looking into the depths of Becky's own pussy, so pink and pretty as it peeked out of its golden thatch of covering.
Slowly, slowly it began to descend upon her. Marjie tried to shout her fear as she watched the inexorable progress of Becky's cunt toward her slightly open lips, but when the inevitable contact was made her terror disappeared. She speared upward with her tongue, parting labia majora, piercing labia minora, brushing the clitoris, her mouth closing over the oval slice just as a hungry man's lips seize eagerly upon a steak sandwich.
And even as she did so, loving voraciously her first pussy-partner, Marjie felt Becky's tongue begin to service her own depths of churning womanhood. My God! her brain screamed as she stabbed her tongue again and again into the soft pink meat that was pressing upon her. Was this making Becky feel as great as Becky's tongue was making her feel right now? She hadn't known! Hadn't known at all! She'd sucked plenty of cock, all right, and had had her own pussy licked by a lot of guys, but now--to be giving and taking with another girl, both at the same time! It really made her appreciate the marvelous organ God had given her, made her thankful for the high degree of sexuality with which she had been endowed.
There! She thrust that tongue in once for thanks, thanks for the way Becky was servicing her right now. She thrust it in again for good measure, to compensate for all the snide jokes she had made in her time about dykes and lesbian butches. And she thrust home again, again, again, thinking as she did how much she had missed because her date wasn't able to help her tonight. Ummm! Becky's cunt was growing moist and tasty as Marjie's tongue loved it repeatedly. Where did all the guys get the idea a pussy smelled like dead fish? Pussies smelled just fine, like fragrant honeysuckle blossoms in a spring breeze. Becky's did, at least, and Marjie was confident that hers was just as juicy.
Becky was even then sucking and kissing every bit of Marjie's vaginal area, roiling the dark girl's oversized clitoris on her tongue, wetting it with her spit, sucking the lubricating juices that Marjie was emitting. And as she sucked she put her hands on each side of Marjie's loveslot, inserting both thumbs in the spacious gap. Marjie winced at the initial penetration, but arched her hips upward to help impale those thumbs in her soaking hole. Becky's other fingers were lolling with a gentle ticklish motion on the supersensitive insides of her roommate's thighs, sending shivers and tremors of tingling delight throughout Marjie's body.
She was coming! Marjie couldn't stop herself. Her pussy juices were flowing, her ovaries singing their own song of joy, her legs thrashing up and down on the floor. Unparalleled thrills swept her over and over as Becky continued to suck and finger the other girl's jubilant pussy. For a moment Marjie forgot that Becky's own cunt was even then on her mouth, its open labia imploring her to bring it as well to its fruition. But as her body reached its peak of orgasm, and feeling began to return to her numbed lips, Marjie saw and felt and tasted the still unsatisfied twat above her, and she remembered her duty. Her tongue flipped out once more, strong and stiff as a piercing cock, grateful in its execution of a duty that bore no burden with it, and she stabbed hard, hard, hard into Becky's pressing cunt.
Marjie's tongue was extended as far as it could go without being torn from her mouth, and she was buried in Becky's slick tender channel. As she flicked with her linguam, she fastened her mouth round the whole of Becky's vagina, her teeth brushing softly the sensitive labia. Becky's cunt passage began to throb and tighten round Marjie's questing tongue, and the sweetest syrup ever started to coat her tongue in honeyed stickiness. Becky thrust hard, down against Marjie's face, till the girl beneath knew she must soon suffocate, but the aroma of the strangling pillow was so sweet and lovely that she would have welcomed a death in such circumstances.
At last the girls rolled apart, lay side by side on the floor, heads reversed, hands clasped.
Marjie was the first to speak. "Jeez, Beck," she gushed, "I don't know what that was all about, but I must admit--I kinda liked it."
Becky laughed, laughed like a tinkling silver bell. "You were so horny when you came in I just had to do something to help you out," she explained.
Weakly, reluctantly, Marjie got to her feet. She lay down upon her bed. Becky followed, started to lie down beside her. Marjie raised a hand in protest.
"No, not again," she said. "I don't think I could stand another one. Gods, Beck, where did you pick that up, anyway? Would you believe that never in my almost-nineteen years of living have I ever tried anything with a girl--until tonight?"
"See what you've been missing," Becky simpered. "But who am I to cast stones. I only learned about it last night myself." She walked over to her own bed, lay down upon it, and kicked her legs high into the air over her head. "Isn't life wonderful!"
There was no reply. She looked quizzically at Marjie's bed. The other girl was asleep, or seemed to be. My, Becky thought That was fast. Tiptoeing to her side, she placed her fingers upon a bare brown teat, studying the girl's face as she fondled it. No trace of recognition. No telltale eye flashing. No suspicious speeding-up of breath rate. She must really be out. Sighing, Becky returned to her bed and lay masturbating skillfully, fingers burrowing and cit-pinching, until weariness overtook her and she too drifted into the land of dreams.
*
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Becky was alone next manning when she awoke. She arose leisurely, dressed leisurely, and had breakfast in the dorm cafeteria. She had no classes today until noon, and so she returned to the room after her meal to prepare for a political science lecture later in the day.
Marjie came in about ten-thirty, her eyes nervous as a trapped rabbit's. She winced at Becky's cheerful greeting and made her way to the window. She stood leaning against the sill, watching from the side of her face as Becky sat, book in hand, at her desk.
"Becky," she began in a voice that quavered a little, "I want you to know that I like you a hell of a lot. You've been a good kid all the time we've been rooming together here, but--"
"What's wrong?" Becky teased. "You sound as if you've just been told you only have a week to live. Or even worse, as if you've just been told I only have a week to live and you don't know how to break the news to me."
Marjie grinned with half her mouth. "It's something like that," she said uncomfortably. "Oh, shit!" she blurted. "It's about last night. I dreamed about it all the time after I went to sleep, and I woke up about six this morning and found out I couldn't drop off again. So I got up, went out, and did a lot of thinking."
Becky looked with puzzled expression at her obviously nervous roommate, wondering what the girl was trying to get around to saying.
"Is something the matter?" she asked concernedly. "I thought you enjoyed it, anyway. Besides, I only did it because I wanted to make you feel better."
"That's just it," Marjie explained. "You made me feel a hell of a lot better. Too much better, in fact! Beck, what we did last night put our relationship on a basis I'm afraid to continue. I liked it so much, there's nothing I'd rather do than share a cunt-eating with you again. Right now! But I can't. That is, I won't.
"Beck, you could turn me into a lesbian without a bit of trouble, but that's not what I want. I like guys, I like to fuck guys, and I want to keep on liking it. So. I talked to Jerry--remember, we went to a party at his place early in the fall? Anyway, he's been after me for a while and today I told him, yes, I would move in with him, live with him, you know, provided he didn't try to put his brand on me. I've been at the University Housing Office making the arrangements. Beck, I'm moving into Jerry's place today."
"You're leaving?" Becky asked in a small, hushed voice.
Marjie nodded. "I hate to, but I just don't trust myself with you. Not after last night."
Becky jumped to her feet. She started toward Marjie, but the other girl began to move away as Becky approached. The lovely blonde freshman stopped short, her hands extended, pleading.
"It's all right," she said, her eyes misting. "You can stay. Really you can. I won't do anything to you. Honest, Marjie. I was only trying to be nice to you last night, anyway. I already have a lover of my very own."
Marjie's eyebrows lifted at this information. So Becky had turned dyke with a vengeance? She always did go whole-hog about anything that appealed to her. The short dark girl shook her head.
"That's not good enough. Besides, it's not you I'm worried about. It's me. Becky, I have to go. Don't try to talk me out of it any longer, because it won't do any good. Jerry and I will come over this afternoon and pack up my stuff." She started to move past Becky, for the door. The blonde girl caught her hand.
"Aren't you at least going to kiss me good-bye?" she asked, eyes starting to brim over with the tears she could not restrain. Marjie looked at her, weakening, then impulsively shoved her mouth against Becky's. They kissed, Becky's hands wrapping lightly round Marjie's back, and almost automatically they moved, inch by inch, toward the nearer of the two beds. Just as they were collapsing onto its soft mat, Marjie broke loose, looked deep into Becky's luminous blue eyes, and said softly, "Oh, God damn you, Becky Ryan!" and then her mouth clamped home once more and the girls sank into the pliancy of the bed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The dorm room was lonely for a while after Marjie had packed her clothes and personal belongings and gone her way, but Becky soon grew accustomed to that. After all, this was only a change in her life, and since coming here to State, she had been in a constant state of flux. She missed having the free and easy Marjie around for consultation and advice, but though she had lost a friend she knew that losing friends was no more than an occupational hazard of life. And though she was minus a friend, Becky was now possessed of a lover, and she knew that the gain more than matched the loss.
She took to spending more and more time at the Sigma Alpha house, often staying overnight to make hot mad love with Audrey, and even when circumstances so leagued themselves as to prevent Becky from getting her hands or mouth on Audrey's lovely tits and pussy, she knew that the opportunity would come soon enough, all the sweeter for the tantalization of delay.
The semester dragged on, and Becky continued her pledge activities at Sig Alph. But her trial period was drawing to its close, and she awaited eagerly the initiation ceremony scheduled for mid-December, just before final exams and the semester break. It was then that she would be relieved of her pledge pin, informed that she had fulfilled all the preliminary requirements for membership, and now had the option of becoming a formal, active sister of Sigma Alpha. She knew what her answer to that question would be, for hadn't Audrey promised her that once she had made the transition from pledge to active, Becky would be qualified to move into the sorority house itself? And the pretty blonde freshman wanted absolutely nothing in the world more than she wanted that!
Becky Ryan wandered through the days approaching the ceremonial evening in a state approaching insensibility. She attended her classes, made perfunctory attempts at taking notes, paying attention, and spent her evenings either in Audrey's arms and bed, or on her own bed in the now so empty dorm room, fingers diving madly in her own cunt as she thought about the things she and her lover had done already--or, even more fascinating, the things they soon would do.
Her gown for the occasion was lovely. She and Audrey had chosen it together in the fanciest shop in town. It was lemon yellow, so long that only her toes peeped forth below its hem, and it featured an empire bodice that seemed to add fullness to her ripe young tits. Its sleeves were short, and the neckline was cut out low to provide a sprightly view of Becky's upper cleavage. She remembered with a tingle all the way from hair to toes' ends the first time she had tried it on, in the fitting room at the store, and Audrey had been so enchanted by it that she had given Becky a big wet kiss when the saleslady's back was turned.
It seemed that the night itself would never come, and, even when it did, Becky was unsure of its reality. She fidgeted through all her classes that day, oblivious to the instructors' efforts to cram in as much material as possible before finals, and, when the last bell of her afternoon had rung and she had left her last class of the day, she ran on winged heels to her dorm to begin the process of preparing for the real milestone of her young life.
The weather was cold and Becky bundled up in her warmest coat and boots before starting for the Sig Alph house. She had to take a bath there--hopefully, she thought, Audrey would scrub her back, etcetera--and get dressed, all by eight o'clock. Oh, damn, she mourned as she hurried across the campus, she'd never have time to get laid before the initiation. At least, there would be a long, long night afterwards. Time enough then.
Audrey met her in the hallway on the first floor of the
CHAPTER house, gave her a fleeting kiss on the cheek. She was already dressed for the evening in a stunning black outfit, long, slinky, with a long-sleeved top that buttoned up the front, right to the base of her neck. The fabric of the gown clung like skin to the outlines of her full fine breasts, leaving the viewer tantalizingly certain that the beautiful
CHAPTER president was braless beneath her suit.
"You'd better hurry upstairs and get ready," Audrey smiled. "Things are going to be jumping around here before very long."
Becky stood a moment, slowly unbuttoning her long coat. "I was hoping you might be able to help me dress," she smirked.
Audrey laughed and patted Becky lightly on the cheek of her ass. "I'll help you get undressed, maybe--if you're a good girl. Now get a move on!"
Becky scampered up the steps to the second floor, entered Audrey's room, opened the closet door, and took out with admiration all over her young face the lovely gown she had bought for tonight. She posed before the mirror, holding it up in front of her body, smiling at the innocence the costume lent her. Innocent, but sexy too, she decided. And all of her sexy innocence, all of her young passion, all of her hot lovemaking talent--all would belong to Audrey forever and ever, once the formalities of the evening had been concluded. Her fingers flew as she stripped off the clothes she had worn over from Bentley Hall, and she hopped into the tub, scrubbed herself demonically, and rushed to dry and dress.
When Becky came downstairs, radiant in her yellow gown, white gloves capping her dainty hands, nearly everyone bad arrived. It would be a small ceremony. Sigma Alpha's rather rigorous standards of selection had guaranteed that the sorority would have fewer members than most of the other sisterhoods on campus. There were only eleven active members, and seven pledges had been chosen from among the applicants of Rush Week. The exclusiveness of the process made each Sigma Alpha girl feel that she was someone very special.
At eight promptly everyone present filed into the parlor, which had been decorated by the active sisters for the occasion. The pledges took their assigned chairs, and the Sig Alph girl named Carolyn sat down at the piano and began to play the sorority song. Next, the actives, all looking gorgeous in fashionable formal dresses, entered and took their seats. They were followed by four neatly garbed young men. These were the presidents, vice-presidents, secretary-treasurer, and sergeant at arms of Zeta Rho, a fraternity that had certain ties to Sigma Alpha. The organizations had been founded here on campus over fifty years earlier, and the first presidents of each had been a boy and a girl who were engaged and later married. Since that time there had been a traditional close relationship between Sig Alph and Zeta Rho, and officers of each attended the installation and initiation ceremonies of the other--the only outsiders permitted at such ceremonies.
Last of all came Audrey, wearing a corsage presented to her by the pledge class. She entered the room just as Carolyn played the last piano chord of the sorority song, and took her place at a lectern.
Becky listened attentively as Audrey made her speech of introduction, describing and discussing the goals of Sigma Alpha, the lessons a young woman could learn during her membership, the hope that the sorority experience would be of permanent value in later life. The phrases she used, the examples she stressed, the objectives she cited--all were stereotypical and hackneyed, the same kind of things graduation speakers in rural high schools always say; but Becky thought them eloquent and fluent and possessed of deep and meaningful emotion as she listened to Audrey's clear, melodic voice. She thought over and over as she watched the tall, gorgeous girl who presided at the meeting that this, indeed, was the woman she loved, the one human being who could touch her most sensitive feelings, arouse her to the greatest heights. And perhaps tonight, after all this was over, and she and Audrey lay sweat-locked on the upstairs bed, perhaps tonight, of all nights, Audrey would finally tell her how much she loved Becky. That was the only thing missing in their relationship so far, the knowledge that Becky's passion had its counterpart in the breast of the other girl.
"It is a custom of Sigma Alpha," Audrey was saying, "to select each year one of our prospective members to be named Best Pledge. This is a high honor indeed, and it is voted by the active members to reward the young lady who best exemplifies the hope we all share for the future of this sisterhood. This year, I am delighted to announce, the vote of the active sisters of Sigma Alpha was unanimous. I should now like to present to you 1974's Best Pledge--Rebecca Mary Ryan. Becky, please stand up."
Her ears tingling with the blush that overspread her entire body, Becky stood up to the hearty applause of all in the room. She looked round. The visiting guys were smiling in approval as they watched her, and the actives had congratulatory expressions on their faces. Even the other pledges seemed truly happy to see Becky gain the coveted honor and their palms slapped together with vigor. She sat down, still blushing, but gratified that she had made such a good impression upon the girls with whom she would be soon and closely associated.
The ceremony went on. Audrey called the pledges to the front of the room, collected the pledge pins they had worn since their invitation to join, apprised them all that they had won the right to become sisters, and asked if each of them in her turn did indeed desire to join Sigma Alpha. There were no rejections, and, with the aid of the sorority's chaplain, Audrey administered the oath of initiation. There was another song, this time with all the girls singing the lyrics, and the meeting adjourned. Each new sister carried a white rose as the whole company made its way to the spacious dining room for a party of welcome.
What a beautiful night, Becky thought, as sister Marcy handed her a perfectly mixed whiskey sour. What a beautiful night this has been, and what a beautiful night it will be!
*
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With finals approaching, the university library was on a schedule of twenty-four-hour access to students and faculty. Dave Shearing was grateful for that, for he had a good bit of work to get finished. He was teaching here at State with his Master's in history, but he was working on his doctoral degree at the same time. He bad finished the classwork required, leaving only the labor of writing his dissertation. Right now he was sitting at a carrel desk on the sixth floor of the library, probing through a stack of reference books on the subject of medieval contact between China and Europe and the consequent effect upon European culture. It was his dissertation subject, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to concentrate.
His carrel abutted on a large plate glass window, and he could see, glowing from the lights within, the Sigma Alpha house. That was the sorority Becky Ryan had pledged, and he still had the enigmatic girl on his mind. Tonight it looked as if they were having a party there. Lights were bright, and he had a glimpse of the picture window in the dining room, where he could see the swirling long gowns of a number of girls. Dave couldn't pick Becky out in the crowd, but he knew she must be there, and in his heart he wished he were too. He would give anything to have her for his own, even though he knew it could never be.
There! he thought he saw her, but--was it? He couldn't tell at that distance, and there was a large tree growing in the yard that cut off much of his view of the window itself. She seemed to have her blonde hair in a different style than usual, but wasn't that her? The vision of beauty in the light yellow gown? The books languished unnoticed in front of him as he strove to telescope his eyes and satisfy his curiosity. Smoking here in the stacks was forbidden, but he found himself nonetheless packing his pipe and placing it between his lips. He touched a match to the bowl, puffed until the tobacco caught a light, and told himself that if any of the library staff happened to come up to this floor, he'd just pretend to be the proverbial absent-minded professor.
*
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Becky was very moderate in her drinking most of the time--she wasn't really even a social imbiber--but tonight, drunk already on the excitement of the occasion, she let herself go. By her third whiskey sour she was feeling very giddy in the head, and she knew it was time to call a halt to her indulgence. She had to be presentable later, when she set herself to warming the chill from Audrey's bed.
"Having a good time, Best Pledge?" asked one of the actives, linking a sisterly arm round Becky's waist.
"The most wonderful time ever," Becky smiled.
She was introduced to the boys from Zeta Rho. They were all handsome athletic guys, wearing identical blazers with their fraternity letters emblazoned on the breastpockets. Each of them took Becky's hand in his and said something nice to her, and she was fully aware of the frankness of their eyes as they peered at the demure cleavage revealed by her scooped neckline. She preened herself before their eyes, exulting secretly that her charms were no longer for such rough, hairy-bodied creatures as men, teasing them with hints of the juicy joyful body they could never touch or taste.
By eleven-thirty the party had more or less broken up. The young initiates had gone home, as had one or two of the actives who lived in on or off campus apartments. Only Becky, of the new sisters of Sigma Alpha, and the boarding members, and the guys from Zeta Rho were still in the house. As her eyes flashed to Audrey, hopeful, expectant, the pretty blonde freshman wondered if it would be politic for the two of them to go upstairs now, pondered whether the others would know, would somehow hear their ecstasies in the bedroom, the ecstasies she was now fully confident would be hers soon. And, emboldened by the whiskey she had drunk, Becky thought dreamily of the pleasure it would give her if they did know, if those guys should be fully aware that the trim young body they had been eyeing was being enjoyed by the tall and beautiful sorority president while they sat below, envious and neglected. She giggled at the thought, and Audrey came to her, placing a hand upon the shoulder of her gown.
"Well, Best Pledge?" she said, and Becky's heart leaped a mile into the air at the electricity implicit in that touch and those sweet-spoken words. "You're not tired out already, are you?"
"Oh, no," Becky giggled softly. "I'm still full of life."
"Good," Audrey replied, and her lips curled into a smile that Becky couldn't quite interpret. It was the smile of someone who knew something, something secret, something delightful, perhaps, but something definitely private.
Audrey set down the drink she had been holding, and took the only half-drained one from Becky's hands. "Why don't you come upstairs with me?" she asked. "There's one last thing I want to talk to you about tonight. One unfinished pledge matter."
Becky arose with dancing feet, not even looking at the others in the room. She didn't see the broad smiles on the faces of the sisters and the Zeta Rho boys as she and Audrey left the dining room and clattered up the stairs, frankly noisy in their high platform-heeled shoes.
They went into Audrey's quarters, Becky first. She turned round with a smile of joy as the older girl came to her, and they melted together for a hot tongue-duelling kiss, hands sliding up and down one another's bodies as they embraced.
"I love you so much, Audrey," Becky said, looking up into the eyes of the slightly taller girl, hoping that this time her declaration would be reciprocated verbally.
"You love Sigma Alpha too, don't you, Becky?" Audrey asked, once more flashing that strange smile. Becky nodded expressively. "Good," Audrey said. "Because now I have a surprise for you."
Becky's eyes gleamed as the older girl led her to the bed and sat her down. Oh, she could hardly wait to have her bare tits kissed and loved, to have her cunt filled by Audrey's skillful tongue, could hardly endure the passage of time before she could retaliate in kind upon the body of the woman she loved!
Audrey seated herself beside the excited freshman, her hand lightly cupping a breast through the gown's front.
"Becky," she began, "first of all, let me tell you that it's a great honor--almost the greatest Sigma Alpha can offer--for a girl to be chosen Best Pledge." Becky smiled in agreement. It was fantastic to know that the sisters did like her so much. "However," Audrey went on, "it carries with it a certain responsibility. The other pledges don't know about this, won't know about it until it's their turn next year in their role as actives to choose a Best Pledge from the ranks of the new girls."
Becky's eyes narrowed in thought. She wondered what Audrey was getting at. What responsibility could a Best Pledge have?
"We chose you, Becky, and it was unanimous, as I said earlier. I voted for you because I thought you were indeed the Best Pledge, and I didn't let our relationship enter into the question. Becky, in a few minutes the officers of Zeta Rho will join us here in the room and you will engage in sexual intercourse with each of them, in order of their rank. This is an ancient tradition of Sigma Alpha, and it is among the 'customs, secret and renowned alike' that you swore to defend and uphold when you took the oath of initiation."
A gasp of shock burst from the lips of pretty Becky. She instinctively crossed both hands on her breasts, dislodging the hand that Audrey had placed there. Doubt and disbelief contorted her face into a startled parody of its natural beauty.
"I--I could never--" she whispered. "How could you think that I would do-do--"
"You have to, Becky," Audrey declared flatly. "It's always been done. I did it when I was chosen Best Pledge of my class and you can do it too."
"But--dear God, Audrey--I love you! You! How could you ask me to--to make love with someone else--a boy--all those boys--I can't! I won't! Never!!"
She threw herself upon the bed, lying on her side, back turned to Audrey, and began to sob, wishing that her tears would flow.
"You have to," Audrey repeated. "Only this one time. Zeta Rho is our brother fraternity, Becky. Right now this is much more important than anything between us personally. And I promise you, afterwards we'll go on just as we did before. You can live here at the
CHAPTER house, and we can be together, and it'll be the same as always for you and me."
"But don't you understand?" Becky shrieked, sitting up with a haunted glare in her shining blue eyes. "If you make me do this, it can never be the same between us again! Audrey, I love you! I swear it before God! Don't you feel anything for me at all?"
"Of course I do," Audrey smiled, touching Becky's daintily exposed front once more. "I like you very much. In fact, you're my sister in Sigma Alpha now. But you owe this to all your other sisters."
"Please!" Becky's fingers flew to the front of Audrey's gown, unbuttoned it. Her hands thrust aside the parted flaps, her mouth fastened upon a brown-tipped boob. She sucked, licked, raised her head. "Audrey," she begged, "I'll suck your tits all night long, suck them till my mouth falls off! I'll eat your cunt until you can't stand it any more, and I'll ream your ass with my tongue until you come higher than a moon rocket. But please don't make me fuck those guys!"
"Stop it, Becky!" Audrey commanded, pulling herself from the desperate girl's grip. She arose, refastened her gown, tucking her breasts back out of sight. Her eyes fixed upon the stricken form of Becky, still lying on the bed. "Get undressed," she commanded. "I'm bringing the men up."
Alone in the room, Becky's tears began to flow at last. They dripped down her cheeks, wetted the gown she wore as her gingerly moving hands applied themselves to undoing its buttons. She threw it aside, throwing with it all her dreams of true and constant love, and then tossed her bra and panties and stockings atop its discarded meaningful crumple on the floor. Nude and trembling, she lay on the bed, her legs quivering like willows in a windstorm.
The door opened, and Audrey conducted into the room the president of Zeta Rho. His eyes had that same gleam as he surveyed Becky's nude form, and now she knew why the guys bad stared at her with such avidity throughout the evening. She understood the sly grins from the active sisters. Oh, God, she understood everything!
He stripped quickly, approached her with jutting, erect prick, and climbed upon the bed beside her. His hands touched her thighs and they spread obediently, but with no control from Becky's muscular center. He fondled her pussy, ran his fingers through the velvet hair of her mons, then poised atop her, prick aimed at her terrified opening.
Jesus! He entered her like a dagger attack. Becky's cunt had not been explored by a penis in such a long time that she was tight, tighter than a virgin at her defloration, and his penetration was agonizing. She screamed softly, bucked her tummy down, squirmed her ass into the bed's surface, trying vainly to escape the stabbing thrust of his cock. It hurt so much. Her eyes fluttered and she stared wildly round the room, gaze lighting upon the calm impassive figure of Audrey, leaning against the closed door. Becky's glance begged but her prayer went unanswered. The boy riding her jerked and shoved and pushed and fucked and his cock slid in and out of her hole until she felt that the friction in her dry passage must set her entire body aflame, and then he stiffened perceptibly and thrust against her and she felt his come squirting madly in her belly.
He softened as soon as he had blown his nuts, and his peter slithered from her, and he stepped off the bed. Dressing in silence, he made his way out of the door at last, and Audrey went out with him, returning a moment later with the second in line.
The vice president of Zeta Rho was just taking off his shorts to reveal a cock of about ordinary size, even though its bulk seemed enormous to Becky's dreading eyes. He touched the circumcised head appreciatively, and started toward her.
"Oh," Becky said suddenly.
Audrey's eyebrows lifted.
"Oh," Becky repeated, "this is so embarrassing." She looked up at the boy and asked in a voice that was near a whisper, "can you wait just a minute? I have to go to the bathroom."
Audrey shook her head. "You're only drawing it out, Becky," she warned.
"I can't help it!" Becky hissed. "I have to go!"
Audrey came over to the bed. "Go ahead," she told the girl. "Right through the door."
"I know where it is," Becky said as she climbed off the bed, the come of her first partner starting to drip down her thighs as it oozed from her disgraced cunt. It felt so slimy she wanted to die!
She closed the door behind her as she stood nude on the bathroom rug. For good measure she drew the bolt. As soon as the sound of her action began Audrey tapped lightly on the door. "You can't stay in there forever, Becky," she said. "We'll break down the door if we have to."
"Can't I have any privacy?" Becky replied, her voice cracking under the strain. She sat down upon the commode, drained her bladder, and flushed. She made her way to the sink, studied her face in the mirror, horror-struck by the sudden fear and distortion that reflected back at her. She washed her hands, twice. And then her eyes fell upon the window.
Could it be? Dared she ever hope? She pressed her nose against the glass. The tree in the front yard of the Sigma Alpha house was a tall, venerable veteran. Its trunk rose along the forepart of the building, and--dear God! If she could manage a leap from the window--a leap of no more than four or five feet--she could reach the tree, could make her way down its sturdy body to the ground--she could escape!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Becky!" came a sharp voice from outside, and the door rattled.
"Please, Audrey!" Becky retorted, her fingers touching the window latch. She gritted her teeth, then threw it open. A blast of chilly December night air blew into her face and she shivered. She couldn't go out there nude. Desperately she looked around the bathroom for anything she could use to cover herself. There was a large towel hanging on the rack, and she seized it with the hope of the suddenly-reprieved.
Becky stood on the bathtub, put a foot on the bowl of the sink, and hoisted herself to the small window. It was going to be a tight squeeze, but thank God she was slimly built. Marjie could never have gotten her overly voluptuous frame out such a narrow opening.
Towel in hand, Becky perched on the window, her skin going goose pimpled in the cold breeze. She brought her legs up, squatted in the window frame, and thought of what might happen to her. If she missed in her leap, she might fall to the ground, two stories below, and possibly break her neck. If she went back now, back into the bedroom with the suddenly treacherous Audrey, there were still three guys left for her to fuck. On the other band, if she could jump to the tree, she would be safe. She could wrap herself in the towel, run like a scared deer to the haven of Bentley Hall, and be in danger of no more than catching a mild chill. Oh, Jesus, she prayed, let me make it! She pressed her lips together tightly and bounded forward.
The limb upon which she cast herself was strong. It bowed and bent as she clung to it, but it held her. She slithered along it, hugged gratefully the body of the tree, and began to descend it to the ground. Light bathed her suddenly, and she looked over her shoulder to see that she was in full view of the picture window in the dining room. Several of the actives were sitting in chairs, drinks in hand, talking cheerfully, and their eyes fell upon her nude form, towel clenched in one hand. She saw them jump to their feet in surprise, saw one run out of the room.
Becky was only four or five feet from the ground. She jumped, heels drawn up to help break her fall, and landed hard. She sucked back a gasp, stood up, wrapped the pitifully thin towel around her frame, and broke into a shuddering, panting run.
"Come back, Becky!" came a voice behind her, and she stopped with a grunt to look back at the sorority house, looming in the dankness like one of those sinister castles in the Gothic novels so popular among the dorm girls. Audrey was standing on the porch of the Sig Alph house, the Zeta Rho boys at her side.
"Fuck you!" Becky shrieked. "Fuck you! Fuck you!" Her words shrilled in the still night like a sudden police siren and she was startled at their fierceness. The boys were starting off the porch after her and she gave a desperate heave of breast and set out for safety.
She bounded across the street, her lungs burning and fit to burst asunder, the towel knot slipping as she moved. Becky felt the covering start to drop away from her, and she reached in desperation to catch it, gathering it up to cover at least the front of her body. The night air was frigid upon her unwrapped ass as her bare feet smacked against the hand pavement.
The houses around were dark. She scooted between two of them, came out on the far side of the block, square into the Campus Green. On the other end of the Green rose the tall facade of Bentley Hall, into which she knew they dared not chase her.
Her heart was jumping into her throat each time her frozen bare foot touched down. The footsteps behind her, the racing pad of male feet, were growing closer and closer. Becky sped across the Green, trying to lose them. She raced in a zigzag pattern, first here, next there, trying to confuse her pursuers.
Suddenly they were out of sight. Still clutching the towel to her breasts, she made for a small hedge beside a park-type bench, crouched trembling in the shadows it afforded. If only she could catch a breath, then elude them for just a few minutes longer, she could reach safety.
Footsteps sounded. Her breath froze as she raised her eyes slowly, very slowly, fearing to see who was drawing near. It was a man. And it wasn't one of the Zeta Rho boys! He was wearing a long coat and he was coming from the library, so brightly-lit in the dankness of the campus at night.
Becky's heart gave a quick leap of hope. She jumped to her feet and ran toward the man. "Oh, God," she shrilled, "you've got to help me! Please!"
*
*
*
*
"I'm very sorry," said a voice at his ear. "Smoking is not allowed in the library."
Dave looked up with a startled face. "Lord," he sighed, "I'm the one who should be sorry." He stuck the pipe hastily in his coat pocket.
"Please observe library regulations," said the young student assistant librarian who had interrupted his musings.
Dave got up, red-faced, and walked around the stacks. He pulled a book off the shelves here and there, purely at random, replaced it, and picked up another. Oh, the hell with it! he thought. He wasn't getting any work done at all. Why had he chosen a seat that looked out on Becky Ryan's sorority house, anyway? Because that seat had a view of Becky Ryan's sorority house. Snake swallowing its tail. Everything was a vicious circle. He forced himself not to look out the window as he picked up his notebook, donned his long overcoat, and departed his fruitless vigil in the library.
He left the library, after the security man on duty had checked his books to make sure he wasn't stealing anything, and started across the spacious Green toward the parking place where he had left his Volkswagen.
Dave Shearing's mind was idle as he strode through the chill night air, his feet clicking on the brick walkway the University had laid through the grass. Words, desperate words intruded upon his consciousness, and he looked up in surprise to see a figure approaching him. The figure of a tall young girl--blonde, pretty, he could tell in the lunar glow, and apparently clad only in a towel draped in front of her body.
His eyes opened wider when he got a clear look at her face. What was she saying? "Please help me"?
"Ill met by moonlight, proud Rebecca," he paraphrased the Band of Avon, although those words occurred in A Midsummer Night's Dream, and not in anything that had to do with the current frigidity of winter. "What are you doing?" he added. "Are you streaking in weather like this?"
More figures appeared from the shadows surrounding them. They approached Becky, and as she caught the sound of their feet she scampered toward Dave; By God, she was naked except for that towel.
"Come on," one of the figures said, in a deep masculine voice. "You'll catch your death of cold out here, Becky."
"No!" she whispered. "No!"
A man came closer, his hand outstretched. Becky saw the gesture, melted against Dave. The history instructor could look down her bare back and enjoy the sight of Miss Ryan's very bare, very pretty young ass.
"Look," Dave said in a pleasant, resonating voice. "I don't think the young lady wants to join you."
"Don't get involved," said another voice, and Dave looked round. He could tell that there were four guys here now, and there was an approaching shadow in the semi-moonlit darkness that seemed to be a tall girl in a long dress.
"Why don't you fellows go play somewhere else?" Dave suggested with just the slightest trace of insolence in his cheery tones. "The young lady doesn't seem interested."
"I told you to keep out of this," said one of the voices.
"I'm afraid I'm involved," Dave smiled. "Come on, Becky," he said, touching her arm. He slipped out of his heavy coat. "Wrap this around you," he suggested to the trembling girl at his elbow. "It's pretty cold for attire like yours. I do like it, though," he added.
She took his coat, slipped it over her shoulders, her fingers holding it shut in front. The night comers still stood menacing in the shadows, and their female companion drew nearer. Her voice came clear through the cold air.
"Becky is coming with us," she told Dave. "Aren't you, love?"
"No!" Becky screamed, agony dripping from her throat. "I'm never coming with you!"
"That settles it, then," Dave declared. "Come on, Becky. My car is just over there."
The four boys came nearer and nearer. Dave raised a hand in warning. "Don't try anything foolish," he said softly. "It may be unpleasant."
One of them made a lunge for Becky, grabbing at her arm. Dave's fist flew like a dart of lightning, contacted alongside the boy's chin, and he fell Like a shot. Another stepped in and Dave leaped high, his feet striking out and hitting home. When he came down Dave lunged for the other two, his furious hands chopping and slashing. Becky watched in astonishment as the burly Zeta Rho men dropped.
"What was that?" she asked breathlessly.
"Haven't you ever seen a Bruce Lee film?" Dave replied. "Or David Carradine on television? I used to be fairly good at that, but I smoke too much nowadays. It's called kung fu."
Audrey appeared in the moonlit patch of Green, her face wreathed in sinister shadows. "Becky," she said, "I'm very disappointed in you." On the ground the four Zeta Rhos were picking themselves up, feeling to see if they had any broken bones. Their discovery of relative good health coincided with their decision to get the fuck away from the madman they had tangled with, and they vanished unobtrusively.
Audrey looked after their departing forms, disgust on her face. "I guess you realize that you're finished in Sigma Alpha," she observed.
"Fuck Sigma Alpha," Becky retorted angrily. "And fuck you tool"
"If that's how you feel, then." And Audrey was gone as well.
Dave put his arm around Becky. "What was that all about?" he asked.
"Don't talk about it," she said. "It's over and I'm through with it. So let's let it die."
He shrugged. "If you want. Now. Where shall I escort you? To your dorm?"
Becky reflected for a moment. She couldn't bear the thought of returning now to that empty room, the room from which her sexual advances had driven Marjie weeks before. Tonight it would be more lonely than ever, and she knew that if she had to endure a long darkness by herself, it would drive her to the very edges of her sanity.
Dave spoke while she was trying to reach a decision. "You told me a long time ago that you wouldn't have anything more to do with me even if I took my cock out in the middle of the Green and begged you for it." His hand flew to the zipper of his pants. "I think this is the middle of the Green. If it isn't, it's close enough, at least." He reached inside his trousers and brought his penis into the moonlight. "I still want you, Becky," he said softly. "I love you very much. I've tried to tell you in every way I could."
She smiled at him, touched his cock, so warm in the chili night air. "Can I go home with you, Dave?" she asked. "But you've got to understand this. I won't go to bed with you. It's just that I have to have some company while I get my life straightened out. Okay?"
"Anything you say." He took her hand and they started across the darkened lawn toward his waiting Volkswagen.
Changes, changes! Becky thought as they approached his car. How her life had changed since the day she and Ted had come to terms about the future of their relationship. The love she had felt for Audrey had disappeared forever, and she knew now, in the aftermath, that the final truth she had seemingly discovered in Sapphic love was only a way station on her path to happiness. It wasn't the ultimate answer. Perhaps there were no ultimate answers.
She knew as she walked with him, hand in hand, that she would fuck Dave tonight, and she knew that she would enjoy it. He would reawaken the heterosexual impulses that had lain dormant in her since her first evening with Audrey. Funny. He had told her that he loved her. The same hopeless passion she had known for her almost-sorority sister. She couldn't tell him she loved him, because she didn't. She doubted that she could ever know true, selfless, all-consuming love with anyone, but she intended to keep on looking.
The Dave Shearing phase of her life was just beginning and she knew it would be as evanescent as the glow of a firefly in the night, but there was no reason not to try it on for size. After all, her heart sang in her ears, "Your God-given body is your own." It was hers to keep, hers to give away, hers to enjoy. Maybe there was nothing more in life than the realization of that single, important truth. And she had so much more living to do!
