It was late. Or at least it was getting there. The three of us had been talking for about an hour and a half. Mason, Cynthia, and me. We were all friends from grad school, and we had decided to hit the coffee shop one night after a long class session.
"See, I think that they should make suicide its own DSM diagnosis," Cynthia said.
"Why's that?" I asked.
"Because, I mean, it's part of so many other diagnoses, but I think that for some people it can be a big part of their overall mental illness. I think it deserves its own classification and its own treatment."
"Yeah, but," I began, taking a quick sip of my mocha, "the problem with that is that it makes suicidality less fluid. If you lock someone into a diagnosis, then it makes it harder for them to see getting past that."
"Good point," she mused. She sipped at her iced tea, looking at me quietly.
I know, we're nerds. I guess we should just establish that part from the outset. But, really, what do you expect from second year counseling psychology students?
"Well," Mason interjected, "I'm going to head back. I still have a paper to finish for Dr. Tanis' class."
"Okay, Mace," I said. "Good luck."
"Thanks," he said, and grabbed his bag and left the coffee shop.
Like I said, it was late, but the place was still fairly hopping. There were little pockets of people all around the place, but it didn't feel crowded.
I looked over at Cynthia, who was sipping her drink and looking out the window. "Whatcha thinking about now?"
"Oh, nothing," she commented. Cynthia had a soft voice, with a small bit of a lisp. I always wondered what it would be like to be one of her clients, sitting in the chair and trying to take her seriously. But, she pulled it off well. Actually, it was kind of cute. "I was just thinking that you're pretty smart."
"Aww, well, thank you."
"And pretty cute."
Whoa. I'm not going to lie, I wasn't expecting that one. I mean, Cynthia and I were classmates, but we had never even flirted or hinted at liking each other. I hadn't even thought about it, really, until she said that.
Cynthia looked a bit embarrassed. Her cheeks were a little red, and I could see her blue eyes looking around nervously from underneath her black hair.
"I think you're cute too." I replied softly.
Cynthia smiled, and we went on to talk a little bit more. I don't quite remember what we were talking about. I think it was mostly about class and the next paper we had due, but eventually Cynthia decided to drop another bomb in the conversation. "Do you want to go back to my place and have sex?"
"What?!?" I gulped a little, and looked around to make sure no one had noticed my minor commotion.
Now Cynthia had a wicked look on her face. Her eyes were narrowed, and she was smiling as she was running her thumb along the straw of her drink. "I want to fuck you."
I took a few breaths, wetting my mouth to speak. "Sure," I managed.
"Good," she smiled bigger. Quickly she grabbed her back, stood up, and took my hand. I didn't even have a chance to put my cup on the counter before she drug me out of the coffee shop and led me to her car.
As we were walking, and as my dick had time to start throbbing and swelling uncomfortably in my pants, I took stock of Cynthia. She was dressed rather conservatively. She had on some black shoes, jeans, and a black blouse top. Her right arm was covered in bracelets and her left had her watch. That was the hand she was leading me with, casting smiling glances at me as we walked down the sidewalk.
When we reached her car, she unlocked it and looked at me before getting in. "Do you have any condoms?"
"Not with me. Should we stop and get some?"
"No," she said, hopping into the car, "I've got some at home."
And just like that we were in her car on our way to her place for what was sure to take our mind off school for a while.
* * *
We arrived back at Cynthia's place, and hopped out of her car to head inside. She seemed to be in a hurry, though she didn't say much or offer any outward advances. She opened the building door first, asking me to follow her up to the third floor where her apartment was. She deftly opened the door to the apartment, inviting me inside.
Cynthia's place was pretty cool. I'd been over there a few times for game nights, study sessions, and even a class dinner. It seemed familiar now, but still somehow different. Maybe it was because most of the lights were off, or maybe it was just because of the fact of what we were about to do. She dropped her bag into a chair at the dining room table, and then came confidently towards me.
Silently, her lips were against mine. She was sensual and forceful at the same time. I could feel her body press against me, and in turn press me against the door, as she let out soft moans into our mouths. I responded by grabbing her butt, pulling her crotch against mine so she could feel my now fully erect dick against her. She moaned at that, and reached down a hand between us to start rubbing my crotch. I groaned, and she bit my lip a little, pulling and tugging at it playfully.
"Let's go to the bedroom," she said. And she slid a couple of fingers down the front of my pants, taking hold of the material and pulling me with her to her bedroom. There was a small lava lamp on which gave the room a greenish glow, but that was all there was to see by. It didn't matter, though, because by now our eyes had adjusted, and I could see Cynthia more fully in the dark.
She started to unfasten and unzip my pants, and I reached forward to do the same to her. She slid a hand down into my boxers, boldly gripping and jerking my dick while I leaned forward to start pulling and tugging down her jeans and panties. Cynthia skillfully kicked off her shoes, and stepped out of her pants and panties, leaving her just in her top and socks.
"Take off your shirt," she said gently.
I complied, quietly lifting off my t-shirt. She watched me do it, biting her lip and taking off her top at the same time. God she was cute. I don't know why I'd never really thought of this before. I regretted it even more as I watched her free her breasts. Even still in her black bra, I could see that they were ample, and that they were perfectly smooth. Her pale skin glowed a light green in the light of the lava lamp, and she stepped forward slowly to take hold of my pants and boxers. And in one movement, she knelt down in front of me, pulling my pants and boxers to my ankles, lifting my dick into her mouth with her tongue.
"Uhh!" I gasped.
"Mmm," she moaned in response, already swirling her tongue over my shaft. She was gulping at it too, and I could hear her making smacking and licking sounds. They were a bit distracting at first, but I found myself getting more and more turned on by them in no time at all. She was bobbing her head along my cock steadily, and I had reached down to run my fingers through her hair. I started to feel my dick tingle, getting nearer to orgasm, and instinctively I pulled at her hair.
Cynthia responded by deepthroating me.
I grunted loudly. My dick was aching in her mouth, and I could feel the naked, sensitive tip of it pressed against the inside of her throat.
She held herself like that for a long moment before finally pulling herself off of my shaft, gasping for air. "Want to put that thing inside of me?"
"You bet," I moaned, reaching down to pull her up. Eagerly I stepped into her, my naked body pressing against her, kissing her fiercely. She teased my mouth with her tongue, and I slid my tongue along hers into her open, waiting mouth. She was already jerking at my dick again, and even as my legs quaked, I pushed her back towards the bed.
Cynthia sat down quickly on the bed, turning over to crawl across it and reach into her nightstand. Quietly she pulled out a strip of condoms, and a tube of lube. She pulled off one of the condoms, tossing it to me, and then opened the bottle to squirt some lube into her hand. "Phew, cold," she muttered, reaching down to gently rub the lube into her pussy lips.
I opened up the packet to the condom, and quickly unrolled it along my dick. Cynthia had tossed the lube farther over on the bed, and was looking at me, her legs spread, rubbing her clit.
"Going to put on a show?"
"If you like," she moaned.
"I wouldn't mind," I smiled at her.
Her response was a series of shaky breaths and moans as she started to make fierce rubbing movements along her clit. She still had her black socks on, and they were giving her traction as she lifted her back and butt off the bed, moaning steadily as she swirled over her clit.
