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Subject: Story submission (Circumstance) (m/f, mast, voy)
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The following story contains adult material and is not to be read by persons
under the age of eighteen.
Circumstance
We studied in total silence: the only sound came from the crickets
outside and the bubbling fish tanks that filled the basement room with an
eerie light. We should have had other lights on for the studying, but there
was something magical about the room without lights. I sat with my back
against the brown couch, my legs crossed beneath the coffee table, and Nelson
sat across the room in the bean bag chair, a large literature anthology in
his lap.
I had arrived an hour earlier, expecting a nice evening with
Richard, my boyfriend of several months, but Nelson had answered the door.
"Well, hello, Ms. Burnett," he said, using the pet name that he had given me
as a joke when I told him I was a feminist.
"Hello, Ms. Stearn," I said. "Is Richard home?"
The two shared a wonderful basement apartment off campus, filled
with their quirky sense of decor, and I had spent a great deal of my freshman
year here, often spending more nights with Richard than I did back at the
dorm.
Nelson motioned into the room off the kitchen and grinned. Richard
snored in his his bunk bed, and when I walked in to wake him, I read the
signs instantly: Richard had been drinking heavily and was not passed out,
dead to the world. I knew from experience it was best to let him sleep off,
so I asked Nelson if he would mind if I studied here instead of walking all
the way back to the library. Of course, he had no problem with it.
I made myself a little study space at the coffee table, lighting
two candles on either end to give me more light, though truth be told, the
atmosphere created by the candle light mixed with the fishtank lights made
for romance better than study: I knew that from experience too! And
speaking honestly, I must admit that sutdying was nearly impossible here.
Since I had expected a nice, romantic evening with Richard, complete with
wine and candles, I really had no designs on studying. I had brought my book
bag just in case, though, and now I was glad I had.
After attempting to study for awhile, I announced that I was
uncomfortable and went into Richard's room to change in the red robe I kept
there. While I was changing, I thought briefly about stirring Richard but
decided against it. He was sleeping profoundly, and from the looks of the
tent in his sweat pants, he must have been dreaming of something interesting.
It appeared that the two of us had the same thing in mind!
Back in the front room, as I made my way past him, Nelson moaned
jokingly and said, "Nice study attire."
"A girl's got to be comfortable, you know," I said and took my
place again at the coffee table, making sure that the robe covered my lap,
since Nelson had a perfect view and since I was wearing no underwear.
Another half hour or so went by. Then, breaking the
trance-inducing sound of bubbling water, Nelso said, "God."
"What?" I asked, looking up.
Nelson looked up and grinned sheepishly. "Nothing," he said and
went back to his reading.
I was fond of Nelson. Since he was dating my friend Rose, the four
of us did quite a lot together. Rose and I usually spent the weekend's here
and had wonderful little parties. Nelson and Richard were an interesting
pair: both had dark brown hair, brown eyes and beards -- very good looking!
-- and both were very intelligent. Time spent in the basement was always
filled with wonderful discussions. And they played guitar as well, so it
wasn't uncommon for us to break into songs during our parties.
As I tried to regain some kind of focus on my studying (a boring
Psych 100 text book), my mind kept wandering to toward sex. I had come by
for just that purpose, so it wasn't unusual to be thinking this way. Richard
was a wonderful lover, very attentive and quite skilled in every way. I was
completely happy. But tonight, I kept thinking about Nelson. I knew from
what Rose told me that he was a good lover too. He was the one responsible
for coaxing her to masturbate, for teaching her how to give head; he had been
the first guy to make her come, too.
Periodically, I glanced over at Nelson. He really was handsome.
His beard was thicker than Richard's, and he was taller. And his hair was
wonderfully thick and healthy. I don't know if it was the light or the focus
of my mind, but I wanted secretly to run my fingers through his hair right
then. Of course, I would never do it. I couldn't hurt Rose.
"Jesus," Nelson said suddenly, this time in a hoarse whisper.
I looked up again and saw that he was shifting his weight in the
bean bag. "What?" I said again.
He smiled over at me: he had the most gorgeous, wicked smile. He
looked like the definition of trouble. I could tell why Rose was so in love
with him. "This poem I'm reading is incredibly erotic," he said, putting the
book down on the floor next to him. Then he announced he was going to change
into something more comfortable too and went into his bedroom, which was just
off the front room on the other side of the apartment from Richard's room.
Call me curious, call me terrible. From where I sat, I had a clear
view of a mirror situated between the bedroom and the front room. And since
it was about five long, running from about a foot off the ground up, There
was no hiding the activity in Nelson's room. I knew about this mirror from
some of Rose's wild stories: Nelson was fond of making good use of it during
their sexual adventures. Now, here I was staring directly at it, watching
Nelson take off his shirt and his jeans. He didn't seem to notice me
watching, though if he would have looked at the mirror, he would have seen me
watching his every move. I had seen Nelson in shorts and muscle shirts
before, but now he was in his briefs, and they hugged his torso like a second
skin. And though he undressed quickly and put on a robe, I got a pretty good
glance of his nearly naked body. Let me tell you: I knew now more than ever
why he excited my friend so much!
Nelson came back into the room wearing the blue robe that I had
seen on countless mornings in the kitchen as we all ate our breakfasts and
got ready for the day. Now, though, I had a better idea of what was
underneath. Nelson made a couple of jokes about men needing to be
comfortable too and went back to his book. I could curse myself for the
thoughts I was having. Inwardly, I told myself that if I couldn't get my
mind back on my studies, I was going to have to leave before I did or said
anything stupid. Luckily, thinking about Rose helped me recompose myself and
get back to the important job at hand.
Another ten or fifteen minutes went by without a word, and I was
actually beginning to make some progress. That was all shattered, however,
when Nelson let loose a low grunt, barely audible but crystal clear: there
was no question about the source of that sound. Nelson shifted uneasily in
his chair, making rustling sounds as he did so. I tried not to look up, but
did anyway. "That must be some poem you're reading," I said. I noticed that
my own voice was lower than usual and could have smacked myself for being so
obvious.
"You're not kidding," Nelson said, his voice slightly gravelly.
"It's making me hornier than hell."
Now, I have to tell you: this kind of talk was not uncommon
between us. When the four of us were together, our conversations could get
pretty raunchy at times. It was always in jest, though, and it never once
had excited me on any level. Tonight was a different tale altogether. The
mere mention of the word horny caused a tingled on my skin.I wanted to bask
in it and push it away simultaneously. I couldn't help myself: I was
thinking about sex, and Nelson looked simply scrumptious sitting across the
room, his face silhouetted by the light from the fish tank beside him.
Another five minutes went by. The tension was unbearable for me.
Once or twice I considered asking him to read some of it to me, but I knew
that his voice would drive me over the edge. I was not going to pursue it; I
was not going to betray Rose. Too much was at stake for me to give in to
sexual whim.
Nelson cut through the tension by saying: "Boy, this poem makes me
want to masturbate."
I looked up and saw that Nelson's face was buried in the book on
his lap. He was not looking up. He was not going to look up. It was almost
as if he was willing me to look at him, as if he was trying with all his
might to coaxe my eyes over to him. And it worked. I stared at him. The
tension was worse than it had been.
I was stunned, more by my line of thought than by his comment. I
sat staring at him, my jaw opened slightly. Finally, I could resist no
longer and said, "You can if you want, if that's what you want to do." My
voice was lower than I had ever heard.
Nelson glanced over at me, almost coyly, made brief eye contact,
then looked away again. The expression on his face was a question mark, so I
answered the implicit question: "Go ahead," I said. The tingling in my body
grew more serious now and moved south toward my crotch.
Nelson did not look up again, thankfully: I don't think I would
have been able to go through with it if he had. Somehow he knew not to look
up. As I look back on the experience, I see now that it is part of the
ritual. We were too young to know that then, but internally, we both knew
our roles.
Slowly but deliberately, Nelson put the book down on the floor
beside him. He undid the tie around his robe, then pulled the robe open,
revealing his burnt orange briefs. I could see the dark spot where the
pre-ejaculate had gathered. Nelson was hard. In one long, slow and graceful
movement, he lowered his briefs, bringing his body forward as they travelled
down his legs then off the ends of his toes. He dropped them next to the
book, then lay back, turning his head to the side and closing his eyes. He
swallowed. His breathing was smooth and deep. He was simply beautiful.
He took his penis in his right hand and began to stroke himself.
Cautiously at first, then, as his erection grew to its full size, more
rhythmically. I was so turned on, I could have burst. Richard has a
beautiful penis, but Nelson's was about an inch longer and significantly
thicker. It was easily the biggest cock I had ever seen.
I swallowed now, and felt that my own breathing had grown deeper.
I watched intently as Nelson masturbating, my gaze travelling over his
chest, the patch of hair in the middle, his small erect nipples, the taut
expression on his face. Then back down to his hard, utterly straight and
gorgeous cock. His thumb barely touched his fingers around the shaft. His
balls were roughly the same size as Richard's, but Nelson had more pubic hair
and his legs were hairier, more muscular.
I gushed. I looked down to see that my nipples were incredibly
hard now, poking through the thick material of the robe. I ran my palms over
them. I felt electrified. Looking back at Nelson's hand, I saw that his
cock had grown a little more, harder even. "It's so big," I whispered, loud
enough for him to hear, not to boost his ego but because it was true. His
cock twitched, which caused a flush over my whole body. He began storking
the shaft faster now, his entire body tensed.
I reached inside my robe and placed a hand over my left breast. It
felt firm, small, the nipples like little bullets.
Nelson's breathing became eratic now, and his hand was moving
faster and faster. His muscles were poised, and his neck and face grew
flushed. Then, he caught his breath and let out a sudden growl through
clenched teeth. "It's happening," I said, and the words helped to bring on
his orgasm. The first spirt hit his neck, the next his chest, the next his
ribs, and the last three dribbled out of his cockhead onto his fist as it
came up. And just like that, not five minutes into the performance, it was
over.
I don't know what possessed me then. Like a woman in some kind of
trance, echanted and driven, I got up and went over to Nelson. He still had
his eyes closed. I wanted to take a bite out of him, to lower myself onto
him, to fuck him like he had never been fucked before. I felt animalistic,
hungry and obssessed. But I thought of Rose. Instead of doing what I wanted
to do, I took a couple of tissues from the box on the bookshelf and crouched
down beside him. Nelson opened his eyes ever so slightly, grinned
sheepishly, then closed them again.
"Let me clean you off," I said. As I crouched, I deliberately
spread my knees wide, letting the robe open. My breasts were barely
contained now as well. I felt nasty and wanted him to take a peak, to see
the dewdrops on the tips of my dark pubic hair.
I lifted Nelson's hand off his penis, careful not to touch what I
desired most right now, and wiped the sperm off his thumb and fingers.
Setting his wrist down beside him, I then swabbed off his neck, chest and
belly. Then came the moment of truth. His cock, incredibly, was still hard,
twitching slightly, angled off his belly. Up close, it looked even bigger,
harder than it had across the room. I pictured Rose lowering her lips on
this marvelous penis. As gingerly as possible, I wiped the sperm from the
glans, being cautious so as not to grasp the shaft, though that is what I
desired more than anything at the moment. He giggled slightly when I touched
the head, and he opened his eyes -- only for a brief second. I looked him in
the face and saw that he was indeed stealing an erotic glimpse of my crotch.
I wanted to fall on him, bury my pubis over his face, demand that he lick me
until I came. But instead, I simply said, "There," and stood up to walk to
the bathroom.
I was only in the bathroom long enough to compose myself, to get my
breathing back to normal. I placed my hand over my vagina and couldn't
believe how wet I was: a swamp! I had never been that drenched. But before
letting myself get carried away, I pulled the belt of my robe tight, took a
deep breath and went back into the front room.
Without looking at Nelson, I sat back down at the coffee table.
"That was incredible," Nelson said.
I looked over. He was grinning and didn't appear to be embarrassed
at all. Strangley, neither was I. We were back to being normal again, thank
God. "It sure was," I said. "Now, maybe we can get back to studying.
*
Nothing more was said about the incident after that night, and I
was glad. I hadn't thought about the possible repercussions, but Nelson
seemed to feel the same as I did on the matter: it had happened naturally,
it was a one time gig, and we had nothing to feel guilty about. Enough said.
I didn't say a word to Richard or Rose, of course, and I was sure
that Nelson didn't either. It had been the kinkiest experience of my
relatively innocent eighteen years; and though I thought about it frequently,
though I masturbated thinking about it frequently, though I couldn't help but
smile whenever I by chance glanced at Nelson's crotch when the four of us
were together -- I didn't really have the desire to do it again. For one
thing, I didn't really have romantic feelings about Nelson and suspected that
he didn't feel that way about me either. But more importantly, that first
time might be ruined if we were to take it any further.
Fall and winter came and went. The four of us went out on several
double dates, usually to restaurants or to the movies, and neither Nelson nor
I were uncomfortable. We certainly didn't let on that anything had happened,
and nobody was worse for not knowing. Besides, I convinced myself often,
they probably wouldn't believe it if we told them.
That spring, during an all-girl party in our dorm room, when the
five of us who were there got drunk enough and loose-tongued enough to talk
frankly about sex, Rose surprised me when she said to all of us, "Okay, so
what's the kinkiest thing you've ever done?"
Over the next half hour or so, as we swapped stories, I wasn't
surprised that the material was pretty tame stuff: from sex in public to
flashing, the first three stories were pretty run of the mill. When it came
my turn, I told a story about giving Richard head in the back seat of my
mother's car -- while she was driving! At first, the others didn't believe
me, but the details I offered and the fact that it was indeed true eventually
convinced them I wasn't making it up.
Finally, it was Rose's turn. I have to admit to some nervousness
here. Even though the story I told had actually happened, I wasn't being
exactly honest about the kinkiest experience I had had. But now I couldn't
help but relive the image of Nelson's wonderful cock coming. It would be
interesting to hear what Rose had to offer. And boy was I shocked. "You
have to promise not to laugh," Rose said, her smile both bold and secretive.
We promised. "Okay, this is kind of weird, and I can't believe I actually
did it, but Nelson can be pretty persuasive. Last week . . . ." She paused
for effect. "Last week, Nelson and I had anal sex."
The shock was unanimous. After all, we were five naive white girls
from the suburbs. But no one could have been more shocked than me. The
thought of Nelson's big cock and Rose's little asshole was enough to make my
jaw drop. I had to be careful not to let on that I knew how big he actually
was, but I wanted some detail. Rose informed us that it only hurt a little,
but that he was incredibly gentle, and they had used K-Y jelly. Still, I had
a hard time imagining it.
Over the next few days, I could think of little else but Nelson.
He was one kinky bastard, that was sure. I couldn't get him out of my mind.
I began having dreams about making love with him in public, going down on
him while Rose slept beside us on the couch, fucking him next to Richard
passed out on the bed. I had never felt this kinky before, and I fingered
myself daily thinking about these things, sometimes two or three times.
One day I ran into Nelson on campus while I was walking out to my
car, which was parked clear across campus in the freshman lot -- "the
boonies," we called it. Nelson offered to walk with me, even though his
apartment was in the opposite direction. I was secretly glad, though, and
I'd be lying if I said I didn't want anything to happen. I wanted something
to happen in the biggest way!
As we walked, we talked about anyhing but what was clearly on our
minds. When we reached my car, I offered to give him a lift back to his
apartment. I was elated when he accepted. When we got in the car, he
surprised me by saying, "So do you ever think about that night last fall?"
I told him I did, but I didn't let on how much I did. I was being
coy. He told me he thought about it all the time, that he masturbated
thinking about me all the time. Then, as if answering my prayers, he asked
me if I wanted to see him do it again. Without pause, I said yes, but it
would require a specific circumstance, and we probably wouldn't get that
chance. Very seriously, he said, "Why not now?"
"Now?" I said. "Here?"
He just smiled, scooted over in the seat and lay his head down on
my lap, his bedroom eyes looking up at me. That wicked grin. He closed his
eyes and as casually as yawning, he unsnapped his jeans, lowered the zipper
and pulled out his cock. He was not quite hard yet, but it only took a few
strokes for his cock to reach full length.
I looked around nervously, but seeing that nobody else was nearby
in the big lot, I focused my gaze on his cock again. His head in my lap
helped to make me wet as a river again. In broad daylight, Nelson began the
ritual again, only this time, he reached up with his left hand and began
massaging my breasts. I started to move his hand away, but it felt so good,
so hot, that I chose to let it go. With one hand he stroked that delectable
shaft, and with the other he pinched my nipples through my bra. Though I
hadn't planned it, I was glad that I had worn my sheer bra that day. Since
my breasts were small, I didn't really need much support. The material was
thin enough to see through and definitely thin enough to pinch through.
Nelson's fingers were so soft, so strong, I almost came from the nipple
stimulation alone. Almost a first for me!
Again, the ritual took about five minutes. This time, however, he
didn't come nearly as much as he had the last, which in retrospect I see made
it easier, considering the circumstance. When he was done, he wiped himself
off with his handkerchief and sat up in the seat beside me, smiling broadly.
I started the engine and wondered what to say. I felt like I had
to say something. But Nelson filled the empty space by telling me he was
going to go ahead and walk back on campus. Maybe go to the library. So we
said our nervous goodbyes, he got out of the car, and I drove off, watching
him in the rear view mirror.
*
Three years went by and not so much as a hint or suggestion about
our little ritual, even though we were together numerous times after the
second session. But time went by, and Richard and I split up. Rose and I
moved into an apartment across the street from the freshman parking lot, so
it was difficult for me not to be reminded of what had taken place. More
time went by, and eventually Rose broke up with Nelson. He was pretty
shattered by it, but the wounds healed after awhile. I still saw him on
campus periodically, but we were always careful to avoid bringing up the
subject.
During my junior year, Rose and I rented a house together, and
Nelson came by to visit a few times. He and Rose were attempting to be
friends, even though it was pretty obvious he wanted her back. She was
dating a new guy now, so there wasn't much hope for him. He was a pretty sad
figure, I must say. He told me that I should feel free to stop by his new
apartment any time, and I told I would, doubtful it would happen even as I
said it.
But for some reason, one hot afternoon, I walked by his place and
figured, why not? He was living on the second floor of a house with four
other guys he didn't know very well; they shared a kitchen in the basement.
Nelson was fixing lunch when I stopped by, so we sat at the table in the
kitchen, making small talk while he ate his sandwich. When he was done, he
showed me the weight room he shared with one of his roommates. It was odd.
He had never been into lifting weight before. I have to admit, though, his
body sure looked good.
He did some bench presses for some reason. He wore a pair of
flimsy red jogging shorts, and as he lifted the barbell and broke into a
light sweat, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander down to his crotch.
Still big, even flacid, and still beautiful, resting there against his
thigh.
As dusk fell, he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. He seemed
sad, so I walked with him, hoping that my company would help ease his
loneliness a little bit. We walked down to the river, and along the way he
suggested that now that the both of us were single, we might consider dating.
The thought had crossed my mind more than once, and it seemed like a good
idea, except for one thing: whenever I considered what it would be like
dating Nelson, he didn't seem as exciting to me as when we were dating other
people, as when our ritual was all the more exciting because it was
dangerous. I told him that I would never be able to date him because of my
friendship with Rose, which was partly true. He said he understood.
He were walking beside the river now, the stars shining in the
clear night sky. Nelson stopped suddenly, and said, "Well, if we can't date,
then we can at least have some fun!" With that, he stripped off his clothes
and stood there completely naked. Boy, did he have a beautiful body! He was
only partially hard, but he still looked impressive. Oddly, for some reason,
the sight of him didn't excite me at all. Maybe that fact that we were both
free killed the danger for me, therefore killing the kinkiness of it all. I
had the strangest sensation. I felt sad for him, almost motherly. I sat
down on a rock and watched as Nelson did a little dance in front of me. It
was funny in a dark sort of way. He walked into the water aways, splashed a
little bit, yelled over his shoulder, "The water's nice and cold! Why don't
you join me."
I didn't say anything. Didn't need to. He seemed okay with that.
After a few minutes, he came walking back, his cock by now shrivelled
significantly. Still, I had to admit as I watched him putting his clothes
back on, he was a beautiful man.
As we walked back to his house, his mood seemed lighter, more at
ease, serious but no longer sad. We stood on the porch saying our goodbyes,
gave each other a warm hug, and made vague promises to get together some
time. I had walked a few feet when I heard him say from the porch, "Hey, Ms.
Burnett!"
I stopped and turned around. "What is it, Ms. Stearn."
"We probably would make a horrible couple anyway, don't you think?"
"Awful," I said with a laugh.
He waved and disappeared into the house. I stood on that street
for a few minutes longer, teetering between two lives. I tried to imagine
his naked body but couldn't call up anything specific anymore, only shadowy
notions. As I walked away, I could feel the limbs of his body fading away,
his memory moving into a permanent but abstract corner of my mind.
The End
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