After making love this morning, and our showers and stuff, I was just ravenously hungry, and we didn't have much to eat in the apartment. I still had my dorm meal card, which I could use at the Student Center cafeteria, so Dave and I headed out a bit earlier than usual. When we stepped out of the building, I looked over to my right, and then I saw her, the girl who had watched us through the kitchen window last night. I smiled at her and waved, and even from thirty yards away, I could see her turn bright red. Dave spotted her, too, but he didn't wave or anything, and he led us, maybe a bit more quickly than usual, the other way on the sidewalk, then up Rose Street headed for campus.
"You know, we could have turned the other way, toward Stone Avenue, to get to the cafeteria," I teased him, but Dave was having none of that. "So, you don't want me to invite her over?" I egged him on some more. I wasn't any more interested in a threesome with another girl than he was, but I certainly was interested in pushing his buttons, and I was doing that, big time.
At least, I didn't think that he was interested in a threesome with another girl. I finally pulled some of his secret fantasies out of him over the weekend, and he never mentioned that, but you know how guys are. Heck, we girls certainly fantasize about threesomes with two guys, but I'm not going to go there; Dave had already said that he didn't fantasize about sharing with another guy, and I wasn't about to fuck up this relationship by being that stupid. I had gotten stupid drunk one time when I was a freshman, and pulled a train at the Sigma Chi house, and it really wasn't that much fun anyway, at least as much as I can even remember of it. That was one episode from my past I
really
didn't want Dave to find out about.
We were walking up Rose Street, hand-in-hand, and that was when it finally hit me: I was committing myself to a life-long exclusive relationship, to one man until I kick the bucket. The Old Marcy would have said that's nuts, but now, now I realized, that's all I'll ever want, that's all I'll ever need. The other girl? It occurred to me that, with my past, I couldn't really complain if Dave screwed another girl, but, you know what, I realized just how special what I had with Dave was, and that him screwing another girl would really hurt that.
My concern about how he'd react if he found out that I'd fucked 54 other guys had sort of slipped into the background. By now, I was certain that even if he did find out my "number" that he wouldn't just kick me to the curb. And since I was moving into what was technically his apartment, he really could kick me to the curb, but I knew that even if we did break up, he'd never just throw me out in the cold.
But, deep down, I knew that since his number was just one, me, that was really special to me, in a way that I'd never have guessed would be the case a couple weeks ago. I could survive sharing him, but that would be a reversion back to the old, slut Marcy, and she needed to be gone for good. Dave's sexual fantasies, as much as I knew about them - he could still be keeping a secret or two, who knows? - didn't seem to move in the direction of sharing. What he seemed to like was getting caught, getting watched, and girls who dress kind of carelessly.
Me? I never dressed carelessly, 'cause I always knew exactly what I was doing, and just how much I was going to show off! Not that I was dressed to show off now; October was moving apace, and showing a lot of skin was just plain too cold. I was wearing a nice sweater, but it fit kind of loosely, not showing off my small tits, and a pair of jeans, jeans that weren't quite skinnies, but still fit me very well, and I was wearing a pair of Fuggs - fake Uggs - for shoes. My brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and I had on some kind of show-off earrings, but I skipped make-up again, as I had ever since I met Dave. All in all, I looked 100% effortlessly cute coed.
And Dave liked it, I could tell. There isn't a full-length mirror in the apartment, so I couldn't check out the whole look, but I knew that it was good. I did take a good look at my face this morning, and if I wasn't exactly a 10, I wasn't ugly either, definitely cute, and some guys would say pretty. My teeth were straight and white, thanks to mom spending money she really couldn't afford on orthodontia when I was younger. Still, there was something slightly different about my looks these days, and I finally realized what it was: I looked happy! I was smiling for no reason at all, and I guess that was the real reason that I was getting more attention-from-a-distance from guys than I used to, and I used to get a lot. I knew that Dave was proud to be seen with me, proud for other people to know that he had a nice girlfriend. Heck, every guy wants to show off like that. Walking up Rose Street, I took Dave's hand, which always makes him happy.
And it makes me happy, too.
We were actually pretty busy, because our professors just loved to pile on the homework, and we had a lot of reading and papers to push out. By the end of the week, I had all of my stuff out of Blanding, and it was a job just keeping that tiny apartment from sliding into chaos. Since my meal card was good for two meals a day, I'd use it at the Student Center cafeteria, and then Dave would take it, go around, and get lunch himself. I think he still saw that as cheating somehow, but I didn't: we couldn't use it for more than the meals I had already bought.
Dinner tended to be simple stuff. Neither one of us was a good cook, though Dave's stuff tended to turn out better than mine. I got really good at boiling spaghetti and using the prebottled spaghetti sauces! We did the dishes every night, with Dave washing and me drying and putting them up. It was a simple thing, but it kept us working, side-by-side, and that made doing the dishes a not-so-bad chore. Plus, it kept the apartment clean, and it was so small that letting the dishes get out of hand for even a day would make the place look like crap. We fell into a routine, but it was a good routine, one which had us making love most nights.
October was the time of fall foliage, and Dave took me on that promised-but-missed camping trip in the Red River Gorge. He was smart enough to check out the hunting season times before we went, because he said he knew too many guys who were "Ready, fire, aim!" when it came to deer season! It was cold at night, but Dave was pretty good at building a fire, had everything as safe as an outdoor fire can be, and the two sleeping bags we had zipped together were just snuggly-warm. We made love slowly Saturday night, me on top, in the tent, with the flap open and the campfire in sight, and it was just amazing. It wasn't the most intense time we'd ever had, but it might have been the most satisfying.
Sunday, on the other hand, wasn't slow making love at all! We'd already collapsed and packed up the camping gear, since we'd have to drive back to Lexington this evening, and then we went on another hike. Some of the leaves were still green, but most were a riot of gold and brown and red. It was so beautiful out, sunny and slightly warmer than normal, and there was just nothing better in the world. Dave had a pretty good Olympus digital camera, and he was taking picture after picture of the leaves and the gorge, and not a few of me, too. At one point, with his back to me, taking a picture of Sky Bridge, when I quietly unbuttoned my shirt, and said, "Want a picture of me, bad boy?" Dave turned around, saw my open shirt, and got a big smile on his face. He took a couple of pictures, and then he set the camera down on a fallen tree.
Oh, I was hot and ready for this! Dave kissed me, kind of roughly, and then dropped to his knees to unbutton my jeans. It was kind of awkward, as I couldn't pull them all the way off while I still had my boots on, but he sat me down on a different downed tree, and buried his face in my pussy. I was absolutely seeing stars, he was giving me such a great tongue lashing, and I started coming in maybe a minute. "Now it's my turn," I announced, and I was not trying to look coy about it at all. My jeans were still around my ankles when I got up on my knees and pulled down Dave's pants, taking him slowly in my mouth.
I knew that Dave wouldn't be cumming anytime soon, since we'd made love last night, and I was giving him a slow, slow trip like this. Somehow, I managed to untie my boots while I was still on my knees blowing him, and that was important, because I was in a mood to get just plain fucked silly.
