Author's note. These are not stand alone stories. If you haven't read chapters 1 and 2, please go back and read them first, or this chapter will make no sense.
*****
Chapter 3: New players, new game
The time apart seemed like it moved like a turtle in peanut butter. Finally, however, another glorious weekend dawned where we could be together. This time, I was staying with Jack at his school. Now, a lot of schools were beginning to experiment with coed dorms. Not MY school, and not Jack's either. But, the recognition that college-age boys and girls would be, well, you know, boys and girls, was certainly taking hold, and so dormitory authorities were often "looking the other way" if you didn't do something terribly outrageous.
Jack lived in what was called a "suite." Each suite consisted of five rooms, each room with two guys. There was a shared bathroom at one end of a short hallway, and the other end of the hallway opened on a deck that overlooked a central yard. One of the rooms in Jack's suite was occupied by the "floor dick," AKA residence counselor, who was an upper classman recruited to temper the enthusiasm of the younger students.
Andy, the floor dick, who I had met previously, had no problem with me staying in the suite (and, I think, he enjoyed the flash of leg or thigh when I was headed to the bathroom in one of Jack's T-shirts). Jack's roommate, Sylvester, who went by the nickname of Siller, (rhymes with killer, he would always say), was a black guy from New York who was also really sweet. Even better (under the circumstances) he had a girlfriend who lived out in town and he rarely spent a weekend night in the suite. Like Siller, a lot of the other suitemates were away on weekends, and this one was no different.
I drove my little Chevy up to the parking lot at Jack's dorm and Jack, unsurprisingly, was sitting on the bench outside reading. He unfolded his lanky six-foot frame from the bench and stood up, smiling broadly, when he saw me. He gave me a long, lingering kiss. Curious about his (seemingly) boundless knowledge of heretofore untouched subjects, I asked him what he was reading.
He showed me the cover -
Nine and a Half Weeks, The Memoir of a Love Affair
by an author I hadn't heard of before.
"What's that about?" I asked. I didn't think romances were quite Jack's thing.
"It's a memoir of a true dominant-submissive relationship. It's also a warning of what not to do."
"Wow," I responded, not sure of how to react, "are we headed that way?"
"Definitely not." he replied. "But I thought it useful to be familiar with the pitfalls. I definitely want our relationship to last longer than 9 ½ weeks. A
lot
longer."
He then smiled at me again. "It's so wonderful to see you! That's a dark story, so I'm happy to put it down. Let's get your things!"
We grabbed my suitcase and makeup bag and headed into the dorm. I, of course, was wearing a nice blouse, pencil skirt and high heels and therefore felt myself somewhat overdressed. Underneath the skirt, of course, I was decidedly underdressed, wearing a garter belt and stockings (and no panties) and shaved to boot, in accordance with the new rules of our relationship.
Admittedly, a girl in heels and skirt on a mostly-male college campus gets
lots
of positive feedback. Jack was in jeans, sneakers and T-shirt.
We got into his room, after a quick greeting to Andy and one of his other suitemates, and plopped my bags on Siller's bed and sat on the other. It didn't take long for us to get horizontal (it had been
over two weeks!
) and one of the first things that happened was Jack slipped his hand up my skirt. He found me bare/bare of course and he grinned.
He quickly moved his face down between my legs and began to kiss and lick that bare pussy. Oh my God my head went back into the pillow and I was just eating it up! (Well he was, technically, but you know what I mean). He went at it slowly, first licking all the way around my outer labia, reveling in the feel of the baby-smooth skin and sucking and nibbling on those outer lips. Then he began to work his way deeper, flicking my clit with his tongue and pulling it into his mouth.
This was actually the first time he had gone down on me since before the "kidnapping/rape scene," and it was glorious. It didn't take very long to get my motor running - I had been fantasizing about him all the way up the road.
Pretty soon, the need inside me became overpowering. "Fuck me Jack, please?"
He rose up out of my pussy like...well, I don't know, like a Phoenix from the flame? Venus from the seashell? Words fail me. He stripped off his shoes, socks, pants and underwear, pulled off his T-shirt, and prepared to get down to brass tacks.
I suddenly had a thought and said quietly, "Jack, please fuck my ass."
He cocked his head for a moment, like he wasn't sure if he had heard me right, and I said a little louder, "Your slut wants you to fuck her ass! Fuck my ass! Please!" I got slightly louder with each phrase.
Without saying a word, he went to his closet and pulled out a tube that I supposed was like the lube he had used on me during the "scene." He quickly lubed up my (still) tight little rosebud and tested it with two fingers, much like the first time. His cock was stiff as a steel rod (but much more pleasant) when he poked my little bum, and he slowly worked his way inside.
He reached up and unbuttoned my blouse and found I had worn the cupless bra and immediately began squeezing my breasts and gently pinching and rolling the nipples. I had come dressed for sex and that's exactly what I was getting.
I wasn't bound and gagged like I had been the first time, and it was quickly obvious. I was thrashing about on the bed, trying to remember to relax, and my screams got louder by the minute.
His cock went all the way in and he lay down on top of me for a moment, whispering in my ear, "Vanessa, baby, you're going to make everyone think I'm killing you."
The sound of the "V" name got through to me for a moment, and I was able to mute the volume a little. "Gag me," I gasped, "GAG ME!"
Jack fumbled around on the nearby student desk and came up with one of those squeezable balls guys use for strengthening their hands. He pushed it into my mouth, which I had opened as wide as I could to accept it.
With the gag-ball in (I guess it was technically a ball-gag, but I had higher standards for those now) I quieted down significantly. The rest, as they say, was like (recent) history. Jack began to thrust ever harder into my tight little ass and once again I felt the delicious feeling of his balls slapping against my bare pussy lips. When he unloaded into me (I
still
didn't know what the cum was hitting inside, I had forgotten to look that up, but ohhhhh, whatever it was it felt
glorious
), I went berserk. Even the gag-ball was just barely enough. Annnnd then I passed out.
I came to in the usual (pleasant) fashion, with Jack holding me and kissing me deeply (ahem, blowing air into my lungs).
"Wow," he said when my eyes popped open, "I think you dig doing the chocolate highway."
