Gina was about to read through the final draft of her paper when she realized she'd picked up someone else's print job.
This is a true story. I accidentally walked into the girls locker room at the gym. It was mostly empty except for two hot blondes. They were totally naked and standing at their lockers and they both had shave pussies. Plus amazing asses and huge tits that didn't sag at all.
I thought they would be mad at me instead one of them said Look whose here! then she said, What's the matter, never seen a naked girl before?
I instantly got a hard-on and my 9-inch cock was stick straight out. The other one said nice cock want to take a shower with us?
I followed them into the shower and we started going at it. The blonde went down on my fat cock and started sucking it and I said take it bitch. Then the other one a brunette was playing with her pussy and she said I want you to fuck my pussy so I said my pleasure and she bent over and I fucked her cunt from behind while the blonde was playing with my balls.
Gina stormed down the hall to Mark's room.
"What's this?"
Mark looked up from his homework at Gina standing in his doorway, holding up a sheaf of paper.
"Huh?"
"You're the only one else who uses the printer, so I know it's yours."
"What are you talking about?"
Gina began to read:
"'This is a true story. I accidentally walked into the girls' locker room--'"
Mark bolted from his chair and snatched the paper from her hand.
"Did you
write
that?" said Gina.
"No, I didn't
write
it!" Mark spat. He sat down at his desk and stuffed the papers into a drawer.
"That's the worst piece of erotic writing I've ever seen! Where did you find it, shavedpussy.com or something?" she said, ending the sentence in a hoarse whisper.
"I'm trying to study," he said.
"I mean, how implausible can you get? Plus, there's no tension whatsoever," she continued. "Do you really find that erotic?"
Mark shot her an angry glance. "Well excuse me if I'm not a connoisseur of smut, Miss English Lit Major! Now if you don't mind, I'm trying to study."
He got up from his chair and edged Gina out of the room, closing the door behind her.
***
A weird tension had been developing between Mark and Gina lately, perhaps to be expected between an empirically-minded engineering student and an English Lit major who sought the truth in 19th century literature.
But Mark actually felt a special affinity with Gina. The crisp enunciation with which she spoke charmed him, as did her bright intelligent eyes. Her personality sparkled in comparison with his other housemates, who were amiable but uninteresting.
However, she could be downright intimidating. She was opinionated and outspoken, never able to just let things go. Anyone else would have politely ignored the dirty story and discreetly returned it to the printer, he thought, but not Gina.
Gina, in turn, felt bad about putting Mark on the spot. He was one of the sweetest guys she knew, gentle and unassuming despite his razor-sharp intellect. She marveled at the profound observations he could summarize in a simple, plainly-worded sentence.
A few days later, found Mark in the living room watching TV when she returned from class.
"Hey," she said, plopping down next to him on the sofa.
"Hey," said Mark.
"Listen, I'm really sorry about the other night," she continued. "I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that."
"It's okay," Mark answered. "I don't blame you for thinking I'm a creep to read that stuff."
"I don't think you're a creep!" Gina said sitting up. "I was just being a snob, I guess. Who am I to impose my tastes on you?"
"What do you mean?"
"Mark, you're not the only one who reads erotic fiction," she said.
"You read that stuff?"
"Of course," she said, "I've even written a few stories myself," she confessed.
"Really?"
Gina seemed to consider something for a moment.
"Wait here," she said at last. She darted down the hall to her room. Mark heard the sound of boxes opening and papers shuffling, and then Gina returned to the living room holding a manila folder.
"Let me know what you think," she said, handing the folder to Mark.
He read the label aloud.
"'Biology Homework'?"
"Just a diversion for spies," she smiled.
Gina glanced at the clock.
"Oh my God, it's already six! I'm supposed to meet my friend for dinner! See you later!" She grabbed her coat and darted out the door.
***
The story, entitled "Damien", was seventy single-spaced pages long. As Mark poured over the opening pages, he marveled at Gina's writing skill. The vocabulary, plot development, and detailed descriptions were certainly far beyond anything he was capable of.
Soon, however, his interest in the fortunes of Genevieve and Damien began to wane. When he reached page twenty, Genevieve had just spent five pages analyzing a smile Damien had given her when they crossed paths on campus. For all of its emotional depth and poignant observations about human nature, Mark's primary questions remained unanswered: Did Genevieve have a nice ass? How large were her breasts? What were her feminine grooming preferences?
Eventually, Genevieve and Damien made love. They kissed, undressed, and caressed each other; Damien looked into Genevieve's eyes when he entered her. A few times, Mark did find himself becoming mildly aroused, but ultimately Gina's vague descriptions left too much to the imagination.
***
The following afternoon, Gina found Mark in the living room watching TV. She sat down on the couch next to him.
"So, did you read it?" she asked.
"Yes," Mark replied perhaps with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. "I liked it."
Gina glanced at him skeptically.
"I liked it, really."
Mark proceeded to tell Gina how well-written he thought her story was. He mentioned specific details to prove he had in fact read it and thought about it.
"Did you think it was, well, hot?"
Mark shifted in his chair.
"Umm, yeah, it was pretty steamy." he said, averting his gaze.
"You don't seem too convinced."
Mark looked down the hall past Gina to see if anyone was listening.
"Don't worry, we're the only ones home," she reassured him.
"Remember what you said about that story I left on the printer?" Mark said. "About how there was no tension?"
"Yeah," Gina said warily.
"Well, I agree. I've been reading those stories for a while now, and they're all pretty lame. I think it's mostly because they don't build tension. Everything just happens right away."
Gina smiled inwardly at this concession.
"Well, your story has a
lot
of tension. So, in that sense, your story is on the right track."
"On the right track?" Gina huffed. "What, you're an expert now?"
She was annoyed, but when she noticed Mark withdrawing from the conversation, she eased up. She had never let anyone read one of her erotic stories, and it had taken a great leap of faith to share one with Mark. Despite his ambivalence, she did not regret her decision.
"Maybe you're right," she said. "Is it boring? Too long?"
Mark considered this for a moment.
"Well, I'm no expert," he began. Gina chuckled. "I guess one thing I noticed was the language."
"What language?" Gina said defensively.
"Well, 'make love' for instance. Oh, and 'bosom'."
"What, you want me to say 'tits'? I hate that word!"
"Yeah, me too," Mark agreed.
"So what do you mean?"
"I mean, why say 'make love' when you mean 'fuck'? It's such a..."
"Euphemism?"
"Yeah! It's a euphemism!" replied Mark ardently.
"My old girlfriend got all uptight when I said 'fuck' instead of 'make love'," Mark recalled. "It's not like I said it all the time or anything. But sometimes it's just how I felt, you know? In the heat of the moment?"
Mark was surprised at his own candor. He paused for a moment to gauge Gina's reaction.
"Go on," she said.
"I don't know, maybe it sounded rude. But I didn't mean it that way; it's just how I felt. It didn't have anything to do with not loving her. It's just seems alright when you feel really...horny." He almost whispered the word.
Mark checked Gina's reaction again. She was staring at him with a wide-eyed gaze, her lips slightly parted. He didn't interpret it as a look of disapproval, so he continued.
"Well, for once I just wished we could have let go of our inhibitions and say what we were really
thinking
. For once, I just wanted to hear her say 'fuck me!'"
Gina felt a shiver run down her spine.
Mark had finished making his point. He stared at the muted television and awaited Gina's fiery response. Of course there was no place in Gina's high-brow prose for his coarse language. What had he been thinking?
But when he turned to say something, Gina was staring at him intently. She smiled at him.
"Well then, I guess we'll just have to combine our talents and write a story together," she said.
"What?"
"It'll be fun," she went on. "We can start tonight when I get back from the library."
"Okay, I guess," Mark said tentatively as she got up. She gathered her backpack and coat, and before he knew it she was out the door. Mark watched her through the window as she walked across the yard. When she reached the gate, she turned and waved at him, as if she had expected him to be there watching her.
***
When ten p.m. rolled around and Gina still wasn't home, Mark didn't know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. Was she really serious about writing a story together? Would she expect him to help her re-work the tale of Genevieve and Damien?
He was about to turn in when someone knocked softly at his door. It was Gina.
She poked her head in the door. Her cheeks were rosy from being out in the crisp fall night.
"I'm just going to get ready for bed," she said, "come over to my room in five minutes or so."
Mark decided to get ready for bed himself. He changed into a tee shirt and his flannel pajama bottoms, then brushed his teeth.
Gina's door was open when he arrived, and he found her sitting on her futon. The futon, laid out flat in the corner of her room near the window, was covered with blankets and pillows. It was surrounded with candles and incense and a burgundy tapestry that hung on the wall.
Gina was clad in a loose-fitting tee shirt and boxers, and her face was illuminated by the blue glow of her notebook computer resting in her lap. Mark sat down on the bed and waited patiently as she checked her email.
"I'm not a prude, you know," she said without looking up.
