Apryl Fooled

This is the story of a young woman and man in college that learn what it is to be in love, in different ways. She has learned of her sexual power in college, and its downside, which brings them together.

Caution: This story includes a scene that can be considered as "rape." If this would upset you, please skip the first ¼ page of Page 2, until she is in her car, or thereabouts. It will be briefly summarized later in Page 2, at about the ¾ page mark.

*

Yuma opened the door to our dorm room and entered, her drooping backpack presumably loaded with library books, as the library was where she said she would be. At least I think that is what she said this morning, as my mind was rather foggy from alcohol at that point.

"You want to a bring man back to room tonight? I play asleep... really good!" she chirped, and then grinned, gleefully, "Man last night was very nice to me. Hot body! I orgasm two times!"

"WHAT!?" I blurted in shock, "He fu... had sex with you, too?"

Yuma put her backpack on her desk chair, and then turned to me with a slightly concerned expression, "You pass out, Apryl. After he done with you, second time, he move into my bed. I liked him!"

"ME?... A second time?... when I was passed out?... And then you?" I said in disbelief. The anger in me was simmering, and was quickly getting stronger, when I hissed, "Bill, that BASTARD!" I rubbed my temples, which had not fully recovered from my drowning my brain with tequila last night.

Taking a deep breath, I thought to answer Yuma's original question, "As to whether I'll bring someone back here after the party tonight: I don't know, but probably not, and it sure as hell won't be Bill!"

"Can I have Bill?"

"You are welcome to him!" I promptly responded.

"Welcome?" Yuma asked, perplexed.

I sighed deeply, trying to relax, "Sorry. 'Welcome to' used in this way means you are offered something, and the giver encourages you to take it."

"If Bill wants me, I take him!"

"Just be careful," I added, "Even in Japan, I'm sure that a man who has sex with a woman who is unconscious is not a person that should be trusted!"

"I be careful. Just use his body. I will not make him boyfriend."

"Well," I said, looking at Yuma's ever-cheerful, sweet face, "I will say that your pronunciation of 'R's' is improving."

"I try...very...hard," she said, with a grin at her accomplishment of three consecutive words with an 'R' in them.

"Great!" I said, adding two, small claps of my hands, "Now, I have to decide what to wear tonight. Do you want to help me?"

"Yes, yes...oh, yes!"

I moved to my closet and withdrew a yellow dress, which I held up in front of me. Yuma's face took on a very studious look before she responded, "All your clothes are so beautiful! But, I think I like blue one, with...stripes. 'Stripes' is right word, yes?"

"Yes, the right word," I replied, as I thought of how enjoyable it was to have watched Yuma practice her English for these six, or so, months that we had been freshman roommates at this college. I put the yellow dress away, and took out the blue one, with its satiny, horizontal bands in a contrasting shade of blue.

"Where have you bought such nice clothes? You so tall and skinny!"

I clearly winced, not liking the term 'skinny', which I had been called for years, up until this last summer before I came to college.

"I'm sorry...Are those wrong words?" Yuma asked, with obvious effort.

Knowing she understood English much better than she spoke it, I explained "Skinny can have a negative meaning. People can use it to be an insult." I looked around, and finding a pencil on my desk, I showed it to her by holding it upright. "Skinny most often refers to someone who is straight & thin."

"You thin, but not straight! You curvy and beautiful. What is best word?"

"I prefer 'slender', which means 'gracefully thin'," I answered, "and thank you for saying that I'm beautiful. Also, the clothes are all custom-made or modified, as nothing in the stores fits me well."

"Okay! Slend...er...slender, slender," Yuma practiced, "You slender and tall, like a model!"

"I'm only five foot, six inches tall," I contradicted, "Models are usually five foot nine inches, or more."

"Then you are little model. Just as beautiful. Tiny waist, nice...b...br...TITS," she blurted, in frustration, "Not like tiny Yuma with no tits, no waist."

I reached out and hugged this wonderful, barely 5-foot tall, bundle of energy, "But I don't have your very long, silky hair!" I countered, as I patted the flowing, thick hair that even covered her butt. That pat elicited a delightful, childish giggle. "You are just so cute, and have those big, exotic eyes. Men think you are attractive, too!"

"ME!?" she giggled, and kept giggling as she affected a shy persona that always seemed more like some cultural gesture than genuine embarrassment.

"Yes, you!" I chuckled back, "but, right now I need to know what shoes to wear. Do you have any ideas?"

She moved to my closet, and squatted down to look at my shoes. After a moment of study, she picked a pair, saying, "This shoes, white with many...strings."

I smiled, "Good idea. And when you say 'shoes', that is a plural word , so you say 'These shoes'."

"Yes, 'these shoes', I will remember," she said, catching herself, and giving me a small, quick bow, "I must study now. Enjoy party, Apryl. If you bring man back, that no problem. I be very quiet."

"Thank you, Yuma. You were very helpful," I chuckled, and answered her small bow.

Later, getting ready for the frat party, I changed into my bathrobe and grabbed my bath towel & soap, and headed for the common women's restroom to shower. While I was enjoying the heat soaking into my muscles, Strega, from a couple rooms down, came in. She waived to me as she passed me in the open shower stalls, heading for one of the toilets. Seeing her, I once again wondered why anyone would name their daughter "Witch," which is what Strega means in Italian. That name really contrasted with her cute face and sweet personality.

While I was soaping, Strega came out of the toilet stall and went to the sink to wash her hands. I saw her eyes look at me in the mirror. Then her smile got big, and she started shaking her head. I tilted my head and gave her a "What?" expression, as I continued rinsing off. As she walked to the paper towel dispenser, she grinned and spoke loudly, so I could hear her over the shower spray, "God girl, do you actually eat real food! You make the rest of us look like porkers."

I chuckled, as I had heard comments like this plenty of times, "Sorry to say, but I eat pretty well."

"And you put down plenty of alcohol last night!"

I turned off the shower, grabbed my towel, and then responded, "Please do not remind me of last night!"

"Bad hangover?" Strega queried, as she dried her hands.

"Bad guy," I answered, and I dried off.

"I saw you leave with Bill. Him?"

"Stay clear," I growled, "He's a pig!"

"Really?" her eyes growing a bit larger, "Thanks for the warning."

Strega put her hand on the door handle, and then stopped and started shaking her head again with that big smile, "You're disgusting! Long, long legs, ridiculously slim hourglass figure, perfect round breasts with big nipples, lovely features...the rest of us don't stand a chance. Think you could throw me one of your leftovers tonight, at the frat party!"

I flipped her off, smiling, and she left, laughing.

I put my robe on and headed back to my room. Yuma acknowledged me with a smiling glance, and then returned to her computer.

I sat, took the clip out of my hair, and put my dyed blond hair in a ponytail, as I had not gotten my hair wet in the shower. Then, I worked on my makeup, with blue eye shadow to pick up the color of my dress. Finishing my face with Taylor Swift-style red lipstick, I got into my clothes, and wrapped the straps of my white, 4-inch heeled shoes several times around and up each leg. Gathering my things, including a coat laid across my arm, I said goodbye to Yuma.

As I stepped into the hallway, Strega was coming down the hallway. She stopped and looked me up & down. "Shit! I might as well go home, now!"

I smiled, "And was it your plan to end up alone tonight?"

"Well, no. But it's not as if I have much choice."

"Would you accept some advice from me?" I asked cautiously.

"Sure!"

As I put my hand on her shoulder and encouraged her to turn, I said, "Back to your room!"

"Yes, mother," she drawled.

As we entered, I chirped, "Hi, Candy!" to her roommate. She returned the "Hi" with a curious expression.

Pointing Strega at her mirror, I asked, "Now, do you want to catch

'A'

man's attention, or 'All' of them?"

"Uuuhhh...whatever I can get."

"Okay," I chuckled, "You've got nice breasts, certainly bigger than many, and plenty for a healthy cleavage. That pullover top makes them blend into the rest of your body too much. What else do you have for tops?"

She pointed at her closet, and I went in, found a white button up shirt, and held it up.

Strega grimaced, "Sorry, I forgot that one needs to be washed. The stain is in the front. It goes in the laundry basket to your right, please."

I looked down, saw the stain and gave Strega an "Ouch" expression as I slipped it off the hanger and tossed in the basket. I shuffled through some more hangars, finding a collared, red, button-up shirt made of a silky like material. Holding this up, Strega winced.

"It's kinda' tight. A gift from my grandma."

"A lot tight?" I asked.

"Just a little, in the top."

I grinned, said "Put it on!" and handed it over to her, adding, "Lose the belt on the jeans, too!"

"But...."

"Will they fall off?" I smirked.

"No, but..."

I just gave her a commanding glare.

"Okay" she conceded.

As I watched, she took off the utilitarian belt, and then pulled off her top, over her head.

Candy turned her chair from her desk to face us, and just watched.

When I saw the everyday bra Strega wore, I asked, "Do you have anything more delicate for a bra, like lacy, thin, or sheer?"

Strega shook her head in regret.

"Girl, we've got some shopping to do in your future," I laughed, "Off with the bra, then!"

"Off!...Here?...Now?" she said, as the blush grew.

I gave her an impatient look, directing, "You stared at me in the shower, girl. Now move!"

Strega slowly removed her bra.

"Where have you been hiding those!?" I cried, "Round, full, and proud! Put the shirt on!"

"With no bra?!"

"Am I speaking English!?" I quipped.

She slipped the shirt on and buttoned it up. I watched her nipples shift under the shiny fabric as she buttoned the cuffs. Tight it was, but only erotically so, with her breasts just pushing back. "Tuck it in and undo the top three buttons," I said.

"But that will show...."

"Earth to Strega...come in!"

She did as I said, turned to the mirror, and blushed. The third button undone was perfect, revealing plenty of cleavage and the roundness of her breasts, without letting her fall out of the shirt. I also saw her nipples were even more pronounced now, probably hard. Perfect. "Now, shoes. Let me see what you have."

I looked, but found no red shoes, so I grabbed a pair of shiny black pumps with about 2-inch heels.

The look on her face showed there was another "But..." coming, and I just held up one finger, and then pointed at her feet. She conceded and slipped off her tennies to put on the heels. Bending over for the shoes showed a lot of her fine boobs...she was going to get attention.

"Now, where is your makeup?" I asked.

Strega pulled out her top dresser drawer and I saw a plastic tray, probably from a frozen meal, piled with uninteresting choices. "Never mind," I said, closing the drawer, "Follow me."

I entered my dorm room, with Strega behind.

"I thought you leave?" Yuma quipped.

"I thought you

had

left

," I corrected, "And Strega needed some help."

"Yes, 'had left,' Yuma responded, "Hi, St...rega. You look hot!"

"Hi" Strega said, and turned back to me, blushing again.

I turned my desk chair and pointed at it. Strega sat. I got out my makeup and did her eyelashes, liner, eye shadow, red lipstick and the blusher for her cheeks, and then watched the smile grow as she looked in the mirror. "You have a rounder face, so you can slim it some by pulling your hair back behind your ears," I said, as I took two of my plastic hair clips and fixed her longish brunette hair behind her ears.

The smile grew again, as she turned her head to each side to see herself.

"Now" I said, "Let's get you a jacket and make an entrance."

"Okay" she said, cautiously.

We went back to her room, and when we walked in, Candy uttered a hushed "SHIT!" I grabbed a white jacket of Strega's, picked up my own coat, which I had laid down earlier, and said, "Git. There are men waiting for us!"

Candy grinned, and said, "See you tomorrow Roomy. Sleep well!"

"Bye" Strega said, a bit flatly, as we walked out of her door. "Is this really going to work!? What do I say?"

As we walked out of the front door, with our coats on, I said, "If you are uncomfortable talking, then smile a lot, meet his eyes, and giggle occasionally."

We got into my Honda CR-V and pulled out. I was expecting to be drinking plenty tonight, but it was only a block and half, with a 15 MPH speed limit on campus property, so I thought driving would not be that risky.

THE FRAT PARTY

As we arrived at the party location, I parked and we walked up onto the front porch of the frat house. We passed a couple who were lip-locked, both of them stacked on a single chair. "Showtime," I said, "So get that great smile locked in."

"Shit...okay," Strega responded, with her voice quivering slightly as we entered the front and were greeted with the loud music and louder voices. I was slipping out of my coat as we walked into the main room and I saw a lot of faces turn towards us.

"Apryl!" Tyler called out, "And...Strega?"

Turning to her, trying to look like I was arranging the coat on my arm, I did my best to keep my voice down, but still be heard by Strega, saying, "Take that jacket off NOW, and smile bigger."

More voices chimed in, "Apryl, come on over!"

Strega looked at me, with her face blushing and eyes pleading. Then she slowly turned backed to Tyler and nodded the acknowledgement of her name, while pulling the zipper down. As she wiggled out of her jacket, her breasts clearly announced their presence with jiggling cleavage and wandering bumps under that silky fabric. Somewhere off to my right, I heard a hushed male voice, "That's Strega? Holy Shit!"

Tyler stepped up to us, with a lingering glance at Strega's breasts, and then turned to me, "Gimme your coats, and I'll put them in the other room." I thanked him, and Strega croaked out a "Thanks!"

I leaned down and whispered, "You've got their attention. Remember that you have the power now. Sample many, choose slowly, and enjoy playing in the big sand box. See you later." Without looking at her, I stepped away to greet several guys I knew, all of which were previous lovers.

"I want Strega to have fun, but I came here to get drunk. Drunk on the attention of men, later on the liquor, and then to let whichever guy catches my fancy, fuck his beautiful prize."

I had liquor offered to me frequently, as I flitted from man to man, letting them all absorb my presence.

I loved to watch their eyes flick up and down on me, to see them look at me and then whisper to their friends, with growing grins. And the power I had to draw a man's eyes away from his female companion, only to linger on me, was intoxicating. I had the "

It Factor

" and I loved using it.

In a bit, the liquor was starting to work on me, doing its job of numbing my brain to the fear that I might remember and feel the shame I had felt as a wallflower all my teenage years, up until last summer. All these men wanted the new me, wanted to be inside me, enforcing their manhood on the woman they had called

beautiful, striking, gorgeous

, and had even fought over. Their lust for me was my drug.

Lust was something I had been denied for so long, and now I could have all I wanted. That feeling of a man craving you, wanting to make me his conquest, his achievement, the delight in his eyes as I undressed: It was everything to me, emotionally. And I had let many of them have me.

These parties were my filling station for the fuel I craved, and tonight I was taking, refilling my needs.

My wanderings finally led me to the kitchen, where I found Strega. Her arms were entwined around some hunk's head, driving her mouth against his, as his hips pinned hers against the counter, and as his thumb brushed across the side of her flattened breast.

"I may have created another addict. Enjoy yourself, Strega."

I was starting to weave a bit, and I was thinking of using the restroom for a break and to renew the lipstick that I had lost to a number of men's lips already this evening. Holding my nearly empty tequila sunrise, I felt a hand caress my shoulder, which was certainly not the first time tonight that that had happened.

"Ms. Riggens. Hello!" a smirking voice behind me called. My clouded mind questioned who would be calling me by my last name, before I had even thought to turn around. When I did, I was nose-to-chin with a familiar face, but a face that was out of context in these surroundings. He was crowding me so much that I had a hard time focusing. I blinked several times, before sensing recognition. I questioned, "Mr. Phillips?"

"Yes... Apryl," he replied, "It is nice to see you outside of athletics class. And you are looking very lovely tonight, if I do say."

"Thank you," I said, still trying to comprehend, with my diluted thinking, what a teacher was doing at the party. Before I could think of a further response, I got my answer as his hand slowly dragged over my right breast. I looked down to watch his hand, with a shiny wedding band, search out my nipple, and then circle it.

Even though he was nice looking, there was still an incongruity in my slow mind between his attentions in this setting and the formality of the teacher I saw in class. His hands moved to my hips, gripping the majority of my tiny waist, as he positioned his hips directly against mine. The large firmness in his center pressed against my stomach. "We should go somewhere more private," he offered, in a sort growling purr.

My mind was catching up. I had entranced a teacher, an older man. And a married man. My powers had reached a new level! I suddenly inhaled with the excitement of a new high. "Yes, please," I whispered to his ear.

Weaving through standing bodies, my hand was led by his. Stairs -- climbing -- his checking doors -- he drew me in -- the door closed -- music now farther away -- no other voices. My body was pressed, firmly, against the door by his. His excitement pressed hard against his clothed target, as his lips made their ownership firmly known to my lips.

I started unstrapping my shoes. He stepped back, unbuttoning only two buttons before he drew his shirt over his head and flung it away. He reached for his belt, but froze, except for his eyes and breathing. I was unzipping my dress and lowering it.

I drank in my power, as he watched me slowly expose my nakedness, save the lacy panties that his eyes now locked on. I controlled this older man, this teacher, this married man, and I was glowing with delight as he watched me slowly slide those panties down.

My soul echoed his words, over and over, after he moaned, "You are the most spectacularly slender creature I have ever seen." Suddenly unfreezing, he desperately fought with his remaining clothes until they disappeared into the shadows.