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Three sex stories
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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PART 7: Making music, of various sorts
January 1983
The Bandit rolled over languidly in bed, yawning and stretching. He
scratched his balls idly, then winced at a sudden stab of pain. Ouch, dammit,
he thought wearily. Must've been sleeping on my stomach or something. Feels
like my balls went and took a hike for the exercise!
Beside him, Twink rolled over, kicking the blankets aside, and arched
her body back with a loud yawn. The Bandit idly watched her move, luxuriating
in the sight of her limber, gorgeous form. She saw him looking at her, smiled,
and with no effort at all bent her body so far back that a quick bend of the
knees was all it took to plant the soles of both feet on the top of her head.
"That's incredible," the Bandit whispered. "How can you DO that?"
"Mmmmm, it's easy if you stay in shape," Twink said, relaxing. She
shuffled sideways a bit, and eased herself down onto the Bandit, her breasts
gently teasing the sparse hair around his nipples. "I love waking up with your
come leaking out of me, darling...."
"Hmmm," he smiled. "Sorry I couldn't oblige, last night."
"What do you mean, couldn't oblige?" Twink slid a hand down the center
of her back and between her rounded, smooth buttocks. It came out wet and
slick with clear fluid. She held it up to his nose, and he sniffed at it
experimentally, frowning. "It sure seems that way to me!"
"Huh." The Bandit scratched his stubbled chin. "But we didn't make
love last night!" His frown deepened. "Did we?"
"Mmmm, I think you fucked me while I was asleep," Twink giggled. "I
had the most delicious dreams." Her slick hand wrapped around his
half-hardened penis and began to pump up and down. He winced and pulled her
hand away.
"Ow! Yeah, yeah, all right, it sure feels like it." He shook his head.
"I just can't remember doing it, that's all. I sleep like a log, usually."
"Bandit," Twink giggled, nuzzling his cheek, "Are you trying to tell
me that you were fucking me in your sleep? I've heard of sleepwalking, but
never 'sleepfucking'!"
He laughed at the ludicrousness of the idea, but there was a note of
uncertainty in the laugh. What the hell was I dreaming about, he wondered. It
must've been the pizza again. When will I ever learn?
"Too fast, too fast!" The Sloth held up a hand and waved the others to
silence. "Turn the tempo down, Bandit!"
"But you just told me to turn it up!"
"Oh, SHIT!" The Sloth got up from his electric piano and began to pace
angrily. "Man, this is NOT going to work...."
"The music's gotta breathe," Zero said quietly. "Machines don't
breathe. That's the problem, right there."
"I know that, dammit!" The Sloth switched off the rhythm box and sat
back down at the keyboard stack. "We naturally follow one another, but the
machine just keeps on going its own merry way. No tempo changes, no buildup of
tension, no laying back on quiet stretches...."
"No attitude problems," the Bandit snapped at him. "No showing up late
for practice, no tuning up while we're trying to work, no lugging three drum
cases and a trap set up five flights of stairs, no threats to leave us high
and dry if we don't put up with infantile behavior!"
"All right, all RIGHT!" The Sloth yelled. "WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS!"
"Take five to cool off, you two," Zero said, taking off his guitar.
"You're both getting too steamed to think, much less play."
The Bandit and the Sloth both glared at him. The Bandit suddenly broke
into a sheepish grin, and the Sloth shook his head, smiling. He got up from
the piano again, stretching, and stalked slowly out of the room, saying, "I'm
going to go get a drink of water. Be right back."
The Bandit watched him go, his huge bulk rolling gently from side to
side like a battleship in heavy seas. "He's got a lot going for him," he said
quietly. "I wish I had my act together as well as he does when I was a
freshman."
"Yeah, well, we've been saying we needed a keyboardist for a long
while now," Zero replied. "He's got good taste, good hands, and a pretty fair
setup." He looked coolly at the Bandit. "I think we were lucky to find him."
"Oh, I agree," the Bandit nodded. "HE isn't the problem. The problem
is that little box over there...." He pointed at the rhythm machine. "We just
can't work with it. He's right, and I know he's right. And he knows I know
he's right. And I know he knows I know he's right."
"Yes, but does HE know that?" Zero grinned.
"Yep, I do," replied the Sloth, coming back into the room. He wiped a
forearm across his mouth, and said, "The water fountain's right outside. If
you guys want to talk about me behind my back, you should close the door
first."
The Bandit sighed. "Geez, you can't even compliment a guy without
getting into hot water!"
"Life's tough," Zero agreed. "Seriously, though, I think it's about
time we admitted we were in trouble. We've been trying to rehearse for nearly
two months now, and without a drummer things just aren't coming together."
The Bandit looked belligerent for a few seconds, and then deflated,
sitting down on his stool and cradling his bass on his lap. "You're right," he
groaned. "I know I'm gonna hate myself in the morning for admitting it, but
you guys are right. We need a drummer. But where the hell are we gonna find
one?"
"Good question," the Sloth answered without rancor. "I am but a lowly
freshman. Tell me, O Great Senior and Junior friends of mine, where does one
go to get drummers around here?"
Zero smiled without mirth. The Bandit looked grim.
"Wrong question, huh?"
"You know it, Sloth," the Bandit said humorlessly. "Drummers are a
rare commodity in Arcadia. Every band that tries to get off the ground needs
one, and the ones who are good enough to play generally have to fill in on
three or four different bands. They're in demand, so they get away with
murder. Man, I miss Livewire!"
"He's the guy that beat up the entire Security Squad last year,
right?" The Sloth looked a bit queasy. "WONDERFUL guy."
"He was, actually," Zero interjected mildly, cutting off the Bandit's
angry retort. "Enthusiastic, well-equipped, and all ours. Nobody else could
get decent results out of him, but with the Bandit in control he was a real
pistol."
"So we're back to Square One," the Sloth sighed. "We need a drummer.
We're screwed without one. And there are none to be had. Now what?"
The Bandit got up and walked slowly to the door. "End of rehearsal,"
he said quietly. "I need to brainstorm."
February 1983
"So, I hear you guys are going to be doing some concerts eventually,"
Starch said casually, sipping his Coke to wash down the last bit of dessert.
"Eventually," The Sloth agreed. "Once we can find a drummer, that is."
"A drummer? Ooh, bad news," Starch said, shaking his head
sympathetically. "Good luck. You guys are gonna need it."
"Thanks," Zero said quietly, dabbing at his chin with a napkin. The
lunchtime crowd in Scum Central was just beginning to thicken into the
critical mass that always seemed to center around twelve noon, with tables
filling up rapidly and knots of people collecting and breaking apart like
streams of bubbles in a swift river.
"I'd loan you Buckshot, but, well, he's booked solid," Starch grinned.
The Bandit scowled at that; Buckshot, widely considered the best drummer in
Arcadia, was a hot property, and Starch had him all to himself. The first time
they'd played together to see what each other could do, Starch and Buckshot
had gotten along famously, leaving the Bandit out in the cold with the quiet
kid with the fast hands and the big beak. He made it a point not to complain,
since he and Zero had been friends ever since, but getting one's nose rubbed
in one's troubles was a common risk in talking with Starch, who seemed to
thrive on other people's misfortunes.
"No, thanks," the Bandit said acidly, "I'd hate to pull the one good
musician you've got out of your greasy little hands, Starchy."
"Not the only one," Starch said smoothly. "Slats is easily as good a
bassist as you are, I'm not impressed by what I've heard this new kid of yours
play, and as for guitar, well, our new guitarist can work miracles!"
"Very fun--" The Bandit stopped dead. He looked at Starch narrowly.
"Work miracles?"
"Yep," Starch grinned. "Your loss is my gain, Bandit. The Rainbow
Wizard, the best damn rhythm stylist in this school and a dynamite voice!"
"You backstabbing shitpile," the Bandit hissed, standing up.
"Cool, Bandit," Zero said. "We don't need the Wiz, you know that."
"No, you don't," Starch said. "What you need is a drummer, and with
that pathetic sicko Livewire off in a padded cell somewhere--"
The Bandit took two swift steps to Starch's side.
"You touch me, you're expelled from Arcadia," Starch said casually,
not looking up as he picked his teeth with a fingernail. "School rules."
The Bandit just stood there, seething.
"You know your problem, Bandit?"
"Why don't you tell me, you fudgepacker?"
"Your problem," Starch drawled, leaning back in his chair and looking
boredly up at the fuming young man beside him, "Is that you know what you
want, but you don't have the wherewithal to get it. You scrape together a few
puny victories, and stand on them like a turtle on a rock, crowing about how
great you are. Zero! This Sloth kid! Big fucking deal! It took you two and a
half years to assemble this lineup, and you've got less than four months to
make your mark before you're out of here. Where are you going to get a
drummer, huh? You don't even know where to look!"
"When we had Livewire, we blew the doors off your crummy crew," Zero
whispered tightly.
"Did you? He couldn't play half of what Buckshot can! And you never
had a keyboardist, even with Zero bonking the best pianist in Arcadia, 'cause
she wouldn't be caught dead in the same room as the Bandit! Pitiful." He
looked up at the Bandit, relishing each word. "You are going to be in my
shadow for the rest of your time here. Deal with it."
The Bandit just stood there, trembling with anger.
"You can't get what you need, much less what you want," Starch
continued gaily. "Not here, not anywhere. I get what I want, Bandit. I sat
through the Wiz's stupid speeches on miracles and healing power to get myself
a vocalist who could rival you, I set up Buckshot like a king to have a rhythm
section I could rely on, and I'm going to be playing shows while you're still
trying to find a drummer." He whirled in his chair suddenly, cocking a finger
behind him. "You see that girl over there?"
The Bandit followed his gaze to a nearby table, where a group of
freshmen were sitting and chatting, most of them girls. The young women were
all attractive, but one stood out: a wide-shouldered girl with a long fall of
silky brown hair, a cherubic round face, and what promised to be a delectable
body under a demure white blouse and long skirt. She chatted and gesticulated
vivaciously with the others, bursting with energy and life.
"What about her," the Bandit whispered.
"She doesn't know I exist yet," Starch said mildly. "But I've scoped
her out. She's called Blitz, and she's going to be my girlfriend."
"Just like that," the Sloth sneered.
"Yup," Starch shrugged. He looked from the Bandit, to Zero, to the
Sloth. "I'm going to get up from this table. I'm going to leave you losers
behind. And I'm going to go over there and start talking to her. And she's
going to like me. A lot. I'm an upperclassman, with a band, and lots of
interesting things to talk about. I'll start simple. Ask her to a movie or
something. Then maybe a date at the Union, in the Clean Room or the Burger
Bar. And so on." He looked over at Zero, who was grinning from ear to ear.
"She won't have a chance."
"Nope," Zero agreed, his grin widening.
"Not a chance," the Sloth said with a placid smile.
Starch looked from one to the other, his smirk dissolving into a
frown. He turned around, and his eyes widened in disbelief.
Across the room, the other young ladies were whispering to one another
excitedly as the Bandit, wearing his best smile, pulled up a chair beside
Blitz and began chatting with her.
"Excuse me...."
"Yes?"
"Could I speak with you a moment, miss?"
"Certainly. What can I do for you?"
"Uh, nothing, actually. Other than look like you're enjoying my
company, that is. Do you mind?"
"Well, it sounds intriguing, that's for sure. What's going on?"
"There's a guy at a table behind you who thinks he's God's gift to
women, who's telling everyone how he's going to come over here and sweep you
off your feet. Any second now, he's going to turn around and see us, and if
you look like you're enjoying my company, I hope it'll teach him a lesson
about treating women as human beings rather than objects to be traded like
baseball cards."
"In other words, you want to be seen cutting in on his option."
"Ouch! I deserved that."
"You certainly did. I'm not used to being used as a bargaining chip in
somebody's game of 'Mine's-Longer-Than-Yours'."
"You're quite correct. I'm sorry. Shall I leave?"
"No, you may as well stick around and try to amuse me, seeing as how
you've driven off everyone else I was talking to...."
"I have? Oh, shit! Now I really AM sorry!"
"Meaning you weren't before?"
"Nope, I wasn't. But it seemed the thing to say at the time."
"Ah, so you're admitting you're as scummy as he is!"
"Of course. Worse, even."
"Then why come here and annoy me?"
"So he can't. Do I need another reason?"
"I suppose not. Do you do this sort of thing often?"
"Honestly, or would you prefer a believable lie?"
"You haven't managed a believable lie yet, so let's try the truth."
"O-kay. I've never done this sort of thing before."
"Ugh! Stick to the lies."
"Suit yourself. Er...'Once in a while, just to get his dander up. I
can't imagine why you're so miffed; all the other girls seem to love it!'"
"Better. I like the English accent."
"Suits me, does it?"
"No, but it's funnier than anything else you've said."
"Ah. Well. May I try another truth, at the risk of more ridicule?"
"You can certainly try."
"You are unquestionably the most witty and intelligent young woman
with whom I've spoken intimately in a very long time."
"Why, thank you, sir! How very kind."
"You believed me?"
"It's easier when you're paying me a compliment. Thank you."
"You're welcome. You realize, of course, that it's now your turn to
compliment me on something or another, however trifling."
"Must I?"
"It's only polite."
"Ah, well. I...I admire your candor."
"Thank you."
"And I think you're amazingly sexy."
"....I beg your pardon?"
"I said, I think you're amazingly sexy. You've been undressing me with
your eyes ever since you sat down here, and you're radiating so many
pheromones I'm about to come all over the inside of my skirt."
"Ah, now who's lying?"
"Well, actually the 'coming in the skirt' part WAS a bit of hyperbole,
but I really do think you're kinda cute. Can you open beer bottles with those
two front teeth?"
"Well....yes, actually."
"You're kidding!"
"No, really! I don't do it anymore, though; I'm afraid I'll break a
tooth."
"That would be too bad, wouldn't it? The dentist would have a terrible
time matching that particular shade...."
"Ouch again! You do enjoy bastinado, don't you?"
"Only with the right man. By the way, I'm Blitz."
"I'm the Bandit. Pleased to meet you."
March 1983
"What do you think?" The Bandit switched off the tape, and looked at
Zero and the Sloth carefully. They looked at one another silently, and the
Bandit chewed on his lower lip anxiously as he waited for their answer.
Finally, Zero nodded. "I honestly do like it."
"Me, too," the Sloth said. He grinned widely. "Lots. How'd you do it?"
"It wasn't easy," the Bandit said with a relieved smile. "I created a
bunch of tape loops of drum parts from records, where the drums are all by
themselves, y'know? Then I played the loops over and over onto a final master
tape, and spliced everything together to make one big drum part that we can
play back." He patted the tape machine fondly. "With the foot control, I can
speed it up or slow it down to follow what we're doing, and even fade it out
for parts where we don't need drums!"
"How long did it take you?"
"Oh, God, I started on it the day we decided the machine wasn't going
to do it, I guess. It took me six weeks just to get the loops right!"
"Well, I hope you made a safety copy, because I'll be real upset if we
lose it!" The Sloth shook his head in amazement. "A drum tape! What a concept!
You didn't make that up yourself, did you?"
"Of course not," the Bandit grinned. "But that's what being a Bandit's
all about, right?" He dug into his pocket and pulled out two cassettes. "Here
are copies of the loops. You can paractice with them, and write down whatever
changes you think they need. Then we can do some serious rehearsing, in time
for the Spring Fling. Wait'll Starch hears this! He'll shit!"
"Great stuff, Bandit. Later!" Zero pocketed the tape and headed off
down the hall. The Sloth nodded assent as he shambled out of the room. The
Bandit was grinning like an idiot as he switched off the tape deck and
carefully packed the precious tape reel away. Never mess with the Bandit,
Starch, he thought gleefully.
He pulled on his jacket, locked his room behind him, and stepped down
the hall and out the front doors into the light, misting rain. It wasn't the
sort of rain that got you really soaked; even with the leisurely walk across
the campus, he was barely damp by the time he reached the Western Habitat, a
virtual mirror image of the Eastern Habitat where he and his friends lived.
He showed his card to the door guard, was let inside, and strode up
the two flights of stairs and down the hall to the third door on the left. He
knocked softly.
"Who is it?"
"The Bandit."
"Oh, hi!" The door flew open, and Blitz welcomed her visitor with a
hug and kiss. "How'd it go?"
"Fantastic. They think we'll be able to use the loops with no trouble
at all. Am I a genius, or what?"
"Well, you picked me," Blitz laughed, pulling him down beside her on
the bed and kissing him soundly.
"True enough," he whispered, caressing her ribcage.
"I talked to Twink today," Blitz said without preamble.
"Oh!" He drew away from her, suddenly uncomfortable. "What about?"
"About you, mostly." Blitz looked at him seriously. "She really loves
you a lot, Bandit. More than I do. More than I ever could, probably."
"Yeah, well." The Bandit looked down at the floor. "She deserves
better than me. I hope this Paladin guy takes good care of her...."
"Apparently he does," she smiled. "She says she would've had a hard
time with the fact that we were seeing each other, if it weren't for how she
was dividing her time between you and the Paladin. I like her, Bandit; she's
not very sharp, but she's got a good heart, and people like that are hard to
come by. Since she and I both have friends in the DAS, we're probably going to
end up being pretty good friends, I think."
"Really?" The Bandit smiled widely. "That's wonderful! Dammit, Blitz,
I don't know why I didn't introduce the two of you earlier! You'd be perfect
for her; she needs to spend time with someone who doesn't let herself be
pushed around!"
"True," Blitz said. "Of course, you know damn well why you didn't
introduce us; one look at me with you and she'd have started bawling."
"You're probably right," the Bandit sighed.
"Not that meeting me without you around was any easier," Blitz said
with a wry look. "I had to hold a hanky over her nose and get her to blow."
"Thanks," the Bandit muttered. "Just what I wanted to hear...."
"Oh, come on, Bandit!" Blitz hugged him hard. "It's okay. We've come
to an understanding. And that means I don't have to worry any longer about
doing something like this." And with that, she began to stroke the crotch of
the Bandit's pants gently. He kissed her fiercely and rolled her over onto the
bed, himself on top of her.
"I've waited long enough for you to kick these gentlemanly habits,
Bandit," Blitz whispered. "I've been masturbating for the past hour, and my
diaphragm is in. If you don't finally relax enough to give me a good dicking
and stop worrying about Twink, not only will I never forgive you, but I don't
think she will, either!"
"Say what?" The Bandit looked down at her in surprise.
"Her period's just started," Blitz grinned. "She's not in the mood for
anything beyond a cuddle, but she knows you're going to be horny as hell
tonight. So I promised I'd leave you too sore to bother her!"
"Great," the Bandit said, remembering his first night with Mary
Magdalene. Blitz chuckled and licked the inside of his ear gently, nibbling on
the earlobe as she unbuckled his pants and hauled out his penis, which was
stiffening rapidly.
"Oh, wow," she whispered into his ear, "It feels great!"
"Yes, it does," the Bandit agreed, one hand up her skirt and under her
soaked panties. He dipped a finger into her dripping cunt, then another and
another. She was spread, wet and slick, waiting.
"Oh! Uh! No foreplay," Blitz gasped, "Just stick it in, hurry!" SHe
hauled up her skirt to her waist, and tore off her panties frantically. Her
pussy, oozing wet and swollen pink, was raised up off the mattress at him.
The Bandit, confronted with a spread like that, didn't have to argue.
He climbed atop her, pushing his pants down around his ankles, and carefully
positioned his penis at the entry to her pussy. A few tentative strokes of the
swollen glans against her labia had her moaning eagerly.
"You son of a bitch, I said stick it IN!" Her legs came up off the
bed, wrapped tightly around his waist, and pulled him forward and down. His
penis caught in the folds of her pussy lips and bent over double.
"YAII!" He pushed back off of her, panting. "EASY, WOMAN!"
"Yes, I am an easy woman," she smiled up at him. "But not cheap."
She tried again, more gently this time, and he slid into her effortlessly.
"Mmmmmmm, oh, yeah! Fuck me, Bandit! Fuck me hard!"
"As you command, madam," he gasped, humping up and down furiously.
It's interesting how your dick can't tell the difference between one pussy and
another, he thought dimly. If we were in the dark, I couldn't tell if I were
fucking her or Twink or even Teenie. Weird.
The next few minutes passed without words. The only sounds in the room
were the squishing noises of fleshing pistoning in and out of wet flesh, the
slap, slap, slap of his scrotum against her cunt, her groans and his.
"I'm...gonna...come soon," he gritted.
"Come, uh, come when you're ready," she responded in gasps.
"UNH! UNH! UNH!" He went rigid, feeling himslef unload into her, and
slowly collapsed like a deflating balloon. Apt simile, he thought, sinking
down atop her with a sigh.
"That was well worth the wait," he whispered, kissing her ear.
"It was indeed," she replied softly. "Could you please pull out of me
so I can keep from ruining my clothes and blankets?"
"Hm? Uh, sure," he said, scrambling off of her clumsily. She retrieved
a wad of Kleenex from the box by her bed, cleaning herself off with a few deft
swipes. She stood up, straightening her skirt, and kissed his shrinking penis
as he started to pull up his pants. At the touch of her lips, it flopped over
to one side as if to wave goodbye.
"We'd better hurry if we want to make dinner," Blitz said matter-of-
factly, grabbing her coat. "Good thing this is your night off, or you'd really
be in trouble." She smiled brightly. "I told Twink to save us seats at the
dinner table tonight."
The Bandit smiled at her as he zipped up his pants. "Did you come?"
"No," she said, handing him his jacket, "But don't worry about it. I
loved feeling you within me, and it was wonderful all around. But I almost
never actually get all the way to an orgasm, so don't get all hung up over it.
Okay?"
He looked at her dubiously. "Okay." Suddenly he stopped, and pointed
at the sodden heap on the floor by the door. "Hey, your panties!"
"Don't need them," Blitz grinned wickedly. "You won't tell." She
glided out into the hall. "Coming, dearest?"
"Jeez," the Bandit muttered, closing the door behind him.
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Two more parts after this one, gang, and neither of them will be very long.
We've about come to the end of the Bandit's stay at Arcadia, and there are
only a few things left to say...so, Part 8 next time, and then the Epilogue,
and I thank you all for your kind words and consideration.
be well,
--
metlay | "There's more to life than synthesizers,
| sex, and Traveller. What, I don't know."
[email protected] |
[email protected] | zrgynl
From mipos3!orc!decwrl!ucbvax!CIE.UOREGON.EDU!jamesl Wed Jan 31 15:34:48 PST 1990
Janet couldn't sleep.
It might have been the heat or it might have been her roommate's snoring
coming through the paper thin wall or it might have been that her
shit-for-brains ex-boyfriend had walked out on her a week ago for the last
time. Not that she missed him. Much. It could have been any of those things.
But it wasn't.
You see, she had this itch.
It was a very aggravating itch, and it made her restless. It was located
in a very special place, high up between her thighs. It was a very deep itch,
and would require very deep scratching. Of course, she could scratch it
herself, as she had done on several occasions before, but her restlessness
was reenforced by the sound of gentle snores from the room next to hers.
It would be oh so much better to have somebody scratch it for her.
Allen had always been a good friend of hers, but she had preferred to keep
it at a friendship level. When mutual financial circumstances had made
sharing an apartment seem like a very good idea, she had proclaimed to the
rafters that the ONLY thing they would share would be the bills. Allen had
agreed good-naturedly, as usual. For six months and more, it worked out just
fine. They respected each other's privacy, always one managing to find
something to do elsewhere when the other brought home a date, etc. They grew
closer, almost like brother and sister. Consummating this relationship almost
seemed like breaking a taboo.
But happy-go-lucky Allen had never noticed the sidelong looks Janet
sometimes snuck at him. At the curves of his well-muscled chest and the bulge
in the tight fitting jeans he sometimes wore. To put it nicely, he was built
like a brick shithouse. And she was sure she had caught him looking at her
the same way more than once, though he always pretended to be looking at
something else instead. But no words were ever said about them, that barrier
never breached.
But now old shit-for-brains was out of her life for good. And she lay in
the darkness empty, lonely, and horny as hell.
She tossed and turned on top of the covers in the stifling heat, clad only
in panties and a long T-shirt. Her mind tossed and turned even more
violently, tormented by her aching need for a man and the maddening closeness
of one. And the fear of disrupting a fine friendship.
The need won. She sat up on and slowly pulled her T-shirt off. Her nipples
were fully erect and incredibly sensitive. The cotton fabric of the T-shirt
felt like sandpaper against them. She got up and pulled her panties off,
which joined the shirt in a pile at the foot of the bed. Completely nude, she
felt curiously free. The warm, stifling air in the room seemed to caress her
sensuously, exciting her all the more. Squaring her shoulders and biting her
lip, she gathered up all her courage and started for the door.
Dear roomie, she thought wryly, you're in for one hell of a surprise.
She opened the door to Allen's room slowly, careful of the squeaky hinge
at the bottom. She peered in.
Moonlight spilled across the bed from the open window at the far end of
the room. It was cooler here, but still quite warm. Allen lay on his back, a
sheet rumpled around his hips. He had stopped snoring, his breathing deep and
regular, as he deeply slept.
She crossed the room to his bedside, horrendously aware of her nakedness,
and feeling more than a little foolish. Stop this right now, her rational
mind ordered, go back to bed immediately before you embarass yourself beyond
all recall.
But the itch spoke with a much louder voice.
She knelt by his bed and placed a gentle hand on his arm. Softly she
whispered his name into his ear. No response. Dead to the world, as usual.
Not that she could blame him. He worked in construction, and that was very
hard work indeed.
She ran a hand along his arm, feeling the muscles there. Her gaze traveled
to the sheet. A sudden, mischevious thought occured to her, one that she
wouldn't have even considered in the rational light of day. She grabbed the
sheet by one corner, and slowly pulled it down.
As she suspected, he wasn't wearing shorts.
She gazed in silent wonder at his penis, laying to one side in its black,
curly tuft of pubic hair. It was... sizable, as she has always suspected from
the everpresent bulge he sported even when wearing loose pants. Hung, to put
it crudely. Even before she thought of it, she reached out to touch it.
She fondled it gently, feeling its limp weight. Allen remained oblivious,
fortunately. If he awoke right now, he'd explode, she thought. Then she
banished that thought to the back of her mind, where it belonged.
And then all thoughts dissapeared momentarily as his penis began to
stiffen in her hand.
She jerked back and watched in silent amazement as it grew, slowly,
jerkily straightening from its curved position to lay flat and hard against
his belly, pulsing slightly.
Wow, she thought, gazing upon the magnificent sight.
She listened to his breathing for a long moment until she convinced
herself he was still asleep. It was as if her need had somehow affected him
even in his sleep. She had fondled men's penises before while they slept, but
this was the first time she had suceeded in getting a rise out of one.
Horrible joke, she thought giddly to herself as she reached for it again.
He was hard all right, hard as a rock. Almost absently she ran her thumb
along the smooth, silky shaft and she wondered what it must be like to carry
all of one's equipment on the outside. With such easy access, no wonder men
were so horny all the time. She was certain she would be.
Allen had a magnificent cock, easily larger and heavier than her old
boyfriend's. If he denied this to her, she would probably never be able to
sleep again. After all, it was the eighties. It was perfectly all right for
friends to have sex if they wanted to. And oh God, how she wanted to...
A low quiet moan escaped Allen's lips, startling her out of her reverie.
His hips shifted slightly, then lay to rest again. Every instinct screamed
for her to get out, but she was rooted to the spot. No way could she leave
now. If she wanted any sleep tonight, she would have to finish what she
started. If he woke up, so be it. She was sure he wouldn't object too
strenuously now. She hoped.
She shifted her grip on his cock lower down and leaned across his hips,
bringing her face closer. She stared at it for a moment and then stuck her
tongue out, touching the tip gently.
She knew from past experience with other men that a teasing touch would
jolt him, and probably awaken him as well. So she swirled her tongue around
the head of his cock, keeping full contact. She heard him moan again and then
sigh. Around and around she swirled her tongue, feeling the roughness on top
of the head, and the smoothness below. She ran it slowly along the smooth
hardness of the shaft, down almost to the base then back you again. She could
feel slight movement beneath her, as his hips began to move up and down in
slow rhythm.
She ran her free hand down her own stomach, to the mass of her pube, and
placed a finger up against the swollen knob of her clitoris, slowly stroking
it. At the same time, she plunged his cock into her mouth as deep as it would
go.
It filled her mouth completely, with a fair portion of its length left to
go. Her other hand cupped his balls, and she could feel them tighten as she
pulled the cock out of her mouth, sucking gently. Again and again she plunged
it in, and now she could feel definite movement beneath her as his hips began
slwoly pumping. She heard his breathing grow rapid, though he was still
wrapped deep within his dreams.
The itch, prodded by her manual stimulation, quickly grew into a tingling
then into a fire. Waves of sheer pleasure radiated from her groin and washed
over all parts of her body. Her nipples were electric, and she had to
suppress a gasp whenever they rubbed against the bed or his body.
His rapid breathing became low moans, and his hips moved more violently as
she suddenly detected a slight salty taste in her mouth. It won't be long
now, she thought deleriously to herself, giving in to the raw, primal
sensations flooding her body.
His subconcious moans became gasps and she felt his balls clench in her
hand. His hips raised and locked as a long, half-stifled groan escaped him. A
fraction of a second later a huge amount of fluid shot into her mouth, which
she swallowed immediately. At the same time the fire in her crotch roared and
exploded once, twice, three times in a rapid succession that would have left
her gasping for breath had her mouth not already been occupied. She was very
glad she was already kneeling, as all strength had left her legs.
Slowly, Allen's body relaxed as Janet drew back and leaned against the
bed, shivering almost uncontrollably. She was drenched in sweat. It was very
rarely she came twice like that, and three times was almost unthinkable. Her
whole body tingled and she knew she her muscles would ache tomorrow. Small
price to pay for such an incredible experience.
She looked up, fully expecting Allen to be looking back at her, but to her
total astonishment, the big dummy was still asleep! Her anger was quickly
smother by bubbling laughter, which she quickly stifled. It would be a shame
to wake him now.
His breathing had returned to its previous monotonous regularity, and his
erection was just beginning to fade. She leaned over one last time and gently
kissed it just below the head. Then she pulled the sheet back over his hips
like she found it.
Her legs were still wobbly and it took three tries to stand up. Her heart
jackhammered in her chest and she suddenly felt very, very tired. At the door
she turned and looked back, seeing him still framed in the moonlight.
Goodnight, my love, she said silently, if you're this good now, what will it
be like when you're awake?
She almost laughed at this, knowing full well that she had done everything
herself. But next time, though, next time...
Back in her room, she pulled the T-shirt on and collapsed on top of the
bed, exhausted. Contentedly she snuggled into her pillow and fell alseep
almost instantly, dreaming very pleasant dreams indeed.
The itch troubled her no more, though it soon would again.
Early next morning, she padded around the house bleary-eyed in her robe.
Allen emerged from his bedroom just as breakfast was ready, as usual. This
time, though, she felt no irritation about it. He was already dressed, as he
would have to leave for work as soon as he was finished. He seemed even
cheerier than usual, and fell to his breakfast with gusto, asking for seconds
and thirds. Finally he was in danger of being late when he got up from the
table. He grabbed his jacket and kissed her a quick peck on the cheek. Though
hurried, he paused at the open door for a second.
"You know," he said, seemingly puzzled, "I had the damndest dream last
night."
Then he pulled the door shut behind him, totally missing the smile she
wore...
**************************************************************************
* James Charles Lynn * *
* Eugene, Oregon * "Dial 911. Make a cop come." *
* jamesl@cie.uoregon.edu * *
**************************************************************************
From mipos3!orc!decwrl!ucbvax!tut.cis.ohio-state.edu!CIS.OHIO-STATE.EDU!davenpor Wed Jan 31 15:36:42T 1990
(I just realized that the name for this being Story wasn't too helpful)
oh well, here's the next part.
STORY1.2
We were just kicking into a version of Get A Daytime Job when
she walked in. Damn she's hot. My attention was warped so that I screwed
up the progression, earning me a dirty look from the lead guitar player.
I didn't care. It isn't as if we ever get through a song without some
sort of screwup.
She sat down at one of the less filthy tables in the bar (Our
band wasn't good enough to play in a not-so-filthy bar yet). I turned
back to the drummer to try and get back on track. The song survived
slightly mangled and we fell apart on cue, as usual.
Jim, the lead guitar player, gave me a what-am-I-gonna-do-with-you
look and call a set break. I slipped neatly out of my guitar strap and then
spent two minutes trying to get the damn thing to stay leaning against my
amplifier. She was waiting patiently for me to finish being manually inept.
"Becky, I really glad you made it." as I strode to the table. Okay,
'strode' isn't too accurate. Hard to stride in a bar stuffed full of chairs
tables. Let's just say I didn't fall down and leave it at that.
"You guys sound good." She spoke as she stood up. It took me a second
to realize that she had gotten ready for a hug. I did clasp her awkwardly
but the moment was shot. (Beauty 1, Suave 0)
"We really aren't that good, and I did screw up again. You see if
I don't pay close attention, I get lost in the 16-bar blues around bar
9." Amazingly, she didn't seem instantly bored by my explanation. I skipped
further detail and deftly switched the subject to food.
"How about something to eat? I get starved about this far into a gig."
About the only good thing about the bar was that it served a mean Double-
Meat gyro. If my band could play well enough, we wouldn't play there.
"That sounds great." We walked to the bar and I stood nervously until
the bartender had time to wait on us. (Our band's salvation was the fact that
the bar had a really loyal hard-drinking crowd that would fill up the place
if we played there or not)
"Two Meaters, and ..." and turned to get her drink preference and
found her talking to Jim, the guitar player.
"two Cokes." A pushed a $5 bill across the bar and turned back.
In the first case, I shouldn't have been jealous. Jim had a steady
girlfriend in our lead singer, and Becky and I had no commitments. Strangely
enough, logic didn't seem to seep into my thought processes when I decided
what to do next. I interrupted the conversation abruptly.
"Hope you like Coke, Becky" My tail feathers puffed high in challenge
to Jim for mating rites of the female. He didn't notice.
"Jim was just telling me about the benefit you two did last December."
Jim turned innocently to me. I realized that he had given me an excellent
starting point for a topic. He even got out of my way by mumbling something
about rewiring for the second set.
"Yeah, well. We got together with our drummer and played at the
Buckeye Youth Detention Center. We 'opened' up for a Reggae band who was
a lot better than we were." Two seats at the bar opened up and we snatched
them.
"Just you, Jim and a drummer? What about the rest of your band?"
"Most of them had gone home for Christmas by then. We just did a
little power-trio kinda thing."
The gyros arrived and I attacked mine ravenously. So fast that
Becky started laughing at the white sauce dripping into my beard. I started
laughing too and flicked a bit of sour cream at her. ( I hit the tip of
her nose, one-in-a-million shot, eh?. I figured I'd hit her eye and she'd
go home to take care of the burning disfigurment. Well, I thought that
during the flight time of the sour cream blobule)
Luckily, laughter seemed to be exponentially motivated that night
and we ended up gasping for breath, our nearby bar mates finding reasons
to move away from us to a table. I felt relieved, as the earlier tension
was broken and I kind of laughed off my possessive emotions.
By the time we finished our gyros, Jim was calling me from the stage
over the microphone. I sheepishly hurried to my bass and zipped through some
quick tuning checks that confirmed my suspicions. I was way out of tune. So
another five minutes was shot with me playing with my pitches.
When we finally got started, we played Goodnight Saigon, and Hey Joe
without a break between them. Then we went on to Talkin' 'Bout a Revolution,
Hello Hopeville, Sweet Home Chicago, and Knockin on Heaven's Door. (OK, did
I ever say we weren't eclectic?)
The highlight of my night was when I got to sing one of the few songs
that I do; Little Wing. I closed my eyes and sang with all my feelings that
I'd been cultivating quietly inside about Becky. I thought I was fantastic.
Jim and the keyboard player told me it was cheesy afterwards. The drummer
added 'maple syrup like'. I didn't care. It impressed Becky (remember? the
only one who matters in this little play).
I was still riding high on her words when we were packing our gear
and loading it into Gary's Ford van. Becky had stayed until we were done and
I was fantasizing about walking her home (No I didn't drive. The bar is kinda
close, okay?)
After some terse agreements about next rehearsal and remedial blues
lessons for me, I took my leave of my R&B compatriots and sought out my
focus of the evening.
She wasn't there.
'*******SHIT!*******', I thought loud enough to hurt my mental ears.
A quick interrogation of the bartender revealed that she'd left a few
seconds before. I ran out of the bar and slid to a stop on the sidewalk.
No where to be seen.
I began to run back to the dorm, when I heard a voice from behind me.
"Not leaving without me, are you?" (thank you God. Again)
"No, no. I was just running after you. I thought you'd left without
me."
"Heaven forbid. Too dangerous for a sweet little thing like me." Yea,
right. She could take out anyone of my roommates, easy. Just get them into
a scissor lock with those swimmer's legs of hers and....
That actually didn't sound like too bad of an idea.
I didn't argue with her and mimed about in my Big Strong Macho
Protector role for a minute. She laughed. (I was getting good at that).
We didn't talk for much of the way home. Actually, we were across the
street from the building when we finally stopped.
"You know I'm not tired at all." She stated it firmly and resolutely.
"What do you want to do?" I asked innocently hoping she wasn't
thinking innocently. She started walking away from the dorm, back to the main
drag. I followed until she found an all-night Greek place. We went in and
got some baklava and Coke. (Don't tell me about calories. I don't want to
hear it).
Without out much prodding by myself, she took the baklava and fed me
pieces she'd broken off with a fork.
"Oh to be Emporer!" I sighed majestically. She laughed and stuck a bit
of honey up my nose, which I of course projected out of my nose by laughing,
causing disruption to the table next to us. We cracked up. I wondered if you
could permenently damage something by laughing too hard or too much. After
one look at her grinning with tears in her eyes, I decided I didn't care.
The manager was giving us a dirty look so she (*note*) paid for our
meal and we skeedaddled. ((I've been dying to use that word in a story))
It was getting quite late, so we headed back to the dorm and let
ourselves into the locked lobby. Both elevators were sitting there waiting.
We hopped on one and she pushed 10. I took a bold (from my point of view) step
and didn't push 12. I couldn't tell if she noticed or cared.
The trip was too short. My nervousness level was reaching redline.
I stepped off the elevator after her.
"What's your room number?" she asked. If I didn't need my key to get
in, I would have said something sophisticated like "1203. Come up and see me
sometime."
No... wait. That was some movei actress or something, right? Kind of
glad I didn't say it, I guess.
Split-seconds after her question my mouth did what my brain seemed too
preoccupied to do.
"1203."
...trumpet fanfare. THE MOMENT had arrived. Her doorway.
"I had a really nice time tonight." Agonizingly typical, I could almost
hear her continue with '...still be friends...' or some equivalent variation.
I was so caught up with myself I almost missed the next thing she did.
She kissed me.
No I didn't take her into my arms, gaze deeply into her soul by way
of her eyes, and kiss her heart to mine. I forgot to _do_ anything.
The kiss. Hmmmm. How to describe it without dimestore cliches.
Well, it was a lot more sticky and slippery than I'd anticipated. And
it was very sweet. But that was the baklava I think.
About all I can say is that is was wonderful. It was the kind of kiss
that let's your heart soar out above the world shouting 'SHE KISSED ME'. I felt
strong and caring and warm and sexy all at once.
There wasn't anything electrical about it. I didn't feel sparks or get
jolted so I put doubt into that tired description.
Before I knew it, it was over. She drew back a few inches and looked
into my wide-eyed face.
Luckily, my instincts took over. (If my ancestors had had my brain to
lead them through courtship, the Wardens would have been snuffed out long ago)
I kissed her back.
This wasn't as incredible as the first, not being out of the blue or
anything. But it was definitely something I'd like to make my life's pursuit.
(JACK WARDEN ** KISSING BANDIT had a nice ring).
I held her lips in mine. My breathing brightened me with her
subtle perfumes while deafening me with it annoying noise. She pressed back,
instigating subtle movements and shifts of lip-to-lip alignment. I learned
quite a bit from her those fleeting seconds. I suspect my kissing improved
greatly.
But as all things do, the end of the kiss came. I really wasn't getting
enough air and I was having a hard time from slobbering over her face as her
shifts got slipperier. I didn't want to end it but somebody had to do it.
I pulled back and drew in deep breaths trying to see if some of my
sensations were due to lack of oxygen. She smiled, gave me a quick peck, and
opened the door to her room. She had dexterity I didn't even dream of. I hadn't
felt her unlock her door during the kiss.
I looked into her room like a Viking gazing upon Valhalla. She was my
personal Valkyrie, drawing onward to paradise. But not really.
I realized that her doorway was a border to be crossed another time.
She finished scribbling something down and handed me a scrap of paper.
It read '293-7340. Call me tomorrow?'
"With the greatest of pleasure, milady." I bowed.
"Goodnight, Rebecca." I spoke it as if I were crafting a figurine of
finest gold.
"Goodnight," she replied and closed her door.
I made the walk back to my room slow. I wanted to savor the aura I
felt. The only thing that made me go to bed was the anticipation of the next
day. Tuesday.
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