My Friends the Allens -- Robin by Mark Aster = = = Note: Adult themes. Parental discretion advised. = = = Sometimes, sitting up in the lifeguard's chair with her whistle around her neck, Robin would stretch her legs slowly, or lean back on her elbows, pushing her breasts forward. She knew they were good legs, and good breasts, and she liked it when people looked at her. Jerry looked at her openly and often, standing knocking water out of his ear or waiting for a lane to free up so he could start his laps. Jerry was a first-year graduate student. Grad students didn't usually pay much attention to freshmen, even freshmen with good legs and nice breasts, and Robin sometimes stretched a little extra when she saw Jerry by the pool. He was pale and muscular, with straight brown hair on his head and hardly any hair on his body. Sometimes Robin would smile at him, and he would stretch a little himself, and sometimes he would stand by the base of her station and they would talk. On days when she was the one closing up the pool, she liked to take a few laps by herself, in the quiet water that smelled of chlorine and sweat. She would shake her hair out of the cap and let it trail behind her in the water, and when she got out her hair would be soaked and dripping. One day when she came out of the pool Jerry was sitting there in his suit, drying off, sitting on a bench. She sat down beside him, and he smiled at her. They talked. After awhile, he put his hand on her knee; his skin was cold and softened by the water. His hand moved up her thigh, and it felt warmer each time he moved it. "What are you doing?" she finally asked, when his fingers slid inward between her thighs and he touched the tight red fabric of her suit. He smiled. His own suit was bulging in the front. She looked away. "You're awful!" she said as his fingers pressed against her, up between her legs and toward the center of her. But she spread her knees slightly apart and let him touch her. The warmth spread out from his fingers, around her hips, and up into her stomach. She closed her eyes and pushed back against his hand. It felt good. "Want to go for pizza?" he asked, all four fingers slipping down and cupping her. "Sure," she said, softly. She changed, and met him outside the locker room. They got pizza at Sal's and took it back to his room. His roommate, he said, was gone for a week. They ate on the floor, and then they moved to the bed. His mouth was sweet and very exciting. His hands touched her breasts, squeezed them, and then his mouth was on her nipples, his hands under her skirt, his body pushing against her. His pants were off and he was inside her, pushing and groaning, and she was pinned against the bed, and she cried out. She was surprised at how quick it was. He kissed her and touched her, looking worried. "Are you...?" "I'm okay. It's okay!" The next time, the next night, was better, and the time after that. He liked to put his arms around her low down, holding her pelvis, and keep her motionless while he thrust into her. She found herself breathless and moaning, almost sobbing, but always sorry when it was done, and wanting him to do it again. She mentioned she liked Chinese better than pizza, so he took her to Ah Sing instead of Sal's. They would eat their dumplings and Kung Pao chicken on his floor, then she would take off her panties and sit on the bed, and he would undo his pants and kiss her and put his arms around her hips and her heart would beat very fast. Sometimes, thinking about it during class, her hands were cold, but her stomach was warm and melting. "Robin," he said one afternoon. She was lying on a beanbag chair in his room, studying, in jeans and a T-shirt. "Yeah?" "You know Simmons, my advisor?" "Yeah?" "He's going on sabbatical. Two years. To Michigan." "Is that bad?" "He wants me to go with him." "Oh! When is..." "I could go with him this summer, or in the fall. Or not go at all." "Oh. When do you have to..." "I don't have to decide until April. We can talk about it anytime. I just thought I should tell you now. So as not to surprise you." "Thanks, Jer. You're sweet." She kissed him, a soft kiss on the lips. He put his hand on her bottom, and then on her breasts, and then kissed her hard. And then their pants were off and he was on top of her on the beanbag chair, and pushing into her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held his body tight against her until they were done. Sometimes, doing her laps, she would feel her thighs brushing against each other, or the water moving in between her legs and over her belly and breasts, and she would think of him holding her. It made her feel light-headed. Once she had to stop and just hang on to the side of the pool until the butterflies in her stomach went away. For Valentine's Day, he gave her a red plush bear holding a heart that said "Be Mine". She put it in her bed. They didn't talk about Michigan. One day in May, when her roomate was in class, he came to her room. She locked the door behind him, smiling, and unzipped her jeans. He was gentle, slower than usual, holding her down with her legs wide apart, pushing in and resting there, deep inside her. "I told Simmons I'd go with him in June." "What!?" He pulled back and pushed in again. She felt the heat moving in her body, but her eyes were wide. "Stop, I -- ohh, I want to talk about this." His hips moved faster, strong insistent strokes. "Damn it Jerry stop OOH stop it! I don't want WANT this now! NO!" "God, too late, baby," he groaned, and thrust into her again. She tried to push him away with her legs, but her hips were pinned under him, and her body was letting him in, and her breath was leaving her. She screamed as he pumped into her, but softly. When his grip relaxed she wrenched herself away and ran to the bathroom. She ran the water for a long time. "You raped me," she said, standing in the bathroom doorway, her shirt pulled down over the tops of her thighs. "You came," he said. "So?" He blinked twice. "So?" he said. She started to say something else. She turned and went back into the bathroom and closed the door. When she came out, he was gone. My Friends the Allens -- Robin by Mark Aster The End