University Blues

Disclaimer: the following is a work of fiction. It may contain scenes of violence, bondage and/or sexual situations which may or may not be consensual, and is intended for adult readers only. All characters portrayed in this story are adults. This work in not for profit and is intended as entertainment only. The author does not support or encourage violence or humiliation towards women or anyone. Characters in this story are fictional and not based on any person living or dead, and are not meant to infringe on any existing characters in other literatures.

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Sunday morning rolled around and Tom didn't get up. He rested cozily in Myriam's bed while she got up and went to the pharmacy to get the morning-after pill. Last night, he had ridden her bareback and ejaculated deep inside her -- to both their amazing pleasure. But she couldn't take any chances. At 21 years old, she was way too young to have a child, let alone with one of her teachers. That being said, she bore no animosity towards him because of it. She had willfully accepted it last night, and she was now assuming the consequences of her decision.

When Tom finally opened his eyes, he was still exhausted, but mostly dehydrated. Myriam was still out for her unexpected shopping (though Tom didn't know that), so he wandered naked into the kitchen, his eyes still glazed over from the cobwebs of sleep. As he opened the fridge door to get some orange juice, a female voice called him out.

"Is this gonna be a regular thing, 'cause you should bring pajamas or something."

Tom froze, his eyes going to the girl seated at the counter no more than a metre from him. She was ogling him up and down, enjoying the view of his naked flesh, and perhaps of his morning wood. She herself was wearing a bathrobe that hid everything it was supposed to.

"Hi," he said, freezing on the spot.

"Well, get something from the fridge and close it!" she ordered him. "Don't freeze your balls off."

He complied, awkwardly serving himself a glass of orange juice, then setting it down on the counter.

"I should put something on," he mumbled.

"Why bother? I've seen it all and you got nothing to be ashamed of... Tom, right?"

"Right... and you're Rebecca."

The roommate. How could he have forgotten her, especially after the lovely display of lesbian affection from last Sunday. A week later, the dark-haired woman obviously still lived in the apartment. Tom felt like an idiot for forgetting it.

"Uhm... where's... uh... Myriam?"

"Myri's out."

"Oh."

Tom stared about the room, moving so he could hide a portion of his nudity -- the lower half - behind the counter. Rebecca was all smiles, obviously enjoying the man's slight humiliation and unease.

"She's coming back soon?"

"Should be. Went to the pharmacy."

"Oh."

Tom drank his orange juice. Only when he was downing a big gulp did Rebecca time her next sentence.

"Yeah, you filled her up with lots of baby juice last night so she needed to get the pill for that."

Tom didn't cough, but he didn't swallow the liquid. He just stared blankly at the roommate, orange juice rolling around his tongue. She laughed at his reaction.

"Priceless... she is right. Your face is so cute when you're confused."

"Are you joking?" he said after swallowing.

"Nope. It's all good though."

"I'm heading back to the room."

Tom wasn't feeling well, and it had nothing to do with his body. He walked back to the bedroom. Rebecca noticed his dour mood and followed him.

"Hey, I meant nothing by it," she apologized. "I kid."

"Yeah, no. It's not that."

"Well, um... wanna talk about it?"

Tom sat on the bed; she stopped and leaned against the doorway.

"No. Don't think so," he spoke without looking up.

He remembered it well from the night before: the passion, the loss of control, the unbridled abandon. Mostly, he remembered what had triggered it. Dana's messages on his phone. He started looking for it, finding it on top of his clothes.

"What is it?" Rebecca asked. "Forgot something?"

"Maybe," he mumbled absent-mindedly.

The last messages were there, and he was suddenly reminded how much thinking of a date with Dana, today around supper, at his place, had triggered this sexual frenzy with Myriam.

"Can I ask you something, Rebecca?"

"It's Becka, but yeah. Ask away."

He stared her down. She was very pretty, her bathrobe now open just enough that he could see the crease between her breasts. Her eyes were brownish, her hair matted on her head from the shower she had obviously taken. She was desirable in her own right.

"You and Myriam are really close, right?"

Without blushing, Rebecca nodded.

"I think you mean we sleep together, so yeah. That's what you meant, right?"

"Among other things."

"She told you, then."

"Well, it's not hard to figure out," he lied. "Can you tell me what she's told you about me?"

Rebecca hesitated; it appeared obvious to Tom she might betray a portion of the trust with Myriam, but the relevance of this knowledge was lost to Rebecca. Tom insisted.

"I don't need anything private. What do you know about me?"

"Well, you're a teacher at the university she goes to, but that's not where you met. You had a fling just outside The Marquis night club, and she really liked you, for some reason. You're 34, right?"

"Yep."

"She likes older men. Well, older by a few years. Not like grandpa old."

"And that's it? That's what she told you about me?"

"Sounds right."

Tom reflected on that information. It didn't bode too badly, considering the implications.

"How much does she like me?"

"Well, to be honest," Rebecca answered thinking she understood the point behind the question, "she's not tying the knot anytime soon. Neither is any of us."

"Us?"

"Our little sex gang."

"Sex gang?"

Rebecca bit her lower lip.

"She didn't tell you yet? Shit... My bad. Well... best wait for her to come back before talking more about it."

"Yeah, let's wait."

Rebecca headed back into the kitchen while Tom gathered his stuff and dressed himself. Myriam arrived roughly ten minutes later, and she hurried herself into the bathroom for her pill. The others waited on her, with Rebecca intercepting her to explain what she had accidentally revealed to her fuckmate. The two roommates then headed back to Tom to explain themselves.

"It sounds weird when we call it that," Myriam stated. "We're a gang of girls that like having sex together, and with others. So... a sex gang."

"I get it..." Tom responded. "Lea, Tina, Rebecca, you... I'm guessing one or two others?"

"A few more, yeah. And we share. You're my find - if you'll accept that term."

"It's not the worst word you could use to describe me."

It was obvious Myriam hadn't planned on revealing this to Tom just yet; perhaps never. Still, now that the cat was out of the bag, Tom felt more confident speaking to her, perhaps because it made more sense as to why she was so inclined to play with him -- though other question remained unresolved.

"I saw the way you looked at me in the bar," Myriam confessed. "It's my Asian features, right?"

"That, and more."

"It was really nice - to be desired like that. I like to play with people, you know - not just have sex and be done with it. That's why I do these little games. But listen... if you're not up for it, if it goes too far, or even if you don't want to continue..."

He interrupted her by raising his hand.

"I never said anything of the sort," he said. "But it was unexpected, and I'm going to have to think on this."

"Did you enjoy last night?"

"Very much so. Both the game, and then afterward."

As much as Myriam was being truthful, Tom simply couldn't explain to her what had possessed him to become so fierce in their intimate encounter. He wasn't certain he could explain it for himself.

"Shame you're doing it on Saturday nights," Rebecca said. "I always work then."

"Well, something could be done about that," Myriam said. "It has to be on the weekend, though. I have classes on Friday morning, so no Thursdays."

Tom watched the girls talk; they seemed to discuss possibilities of holding their 'games' on Fridays. They turned to him.

"Could you make it on Friday night?" Myriam asked.

"Probably," he answered.

Rebecca stared him down, completely changing the topic.

"Are you jealous?"

"Why?" he inquired, unsure what she meant.

"If there were other guys there? Are you jealous of other guys?"

"I don't know," he answered.

"Because I know a lot of guys who are, which is why we usually invite only one guy to these things."

The girls were examining his reaction; surely, he hadn't imagined he was the only man they had involved in these games? His lack of reaction hinted at the possibility he didn't care - or he truly simply didn't know, having never faced that reality.

"Why do you do this?" he asked, taking charge of learning more..

"Good question," Myriam answered. "For my part - I just love it. The game, the sex..."

"Ok. Why did you pick me then?"

She smiled at him; a simple, elegant smile that spoke of no ill intent.

"I didn't, actually. Not at first. It was your friend... Porter? He brought you to me, remember? I wasn't looking for anything in particular when we headed out to have some fun -- I mean, I wasn't looking for anything but some fun."

"Ok... so what made you think I'd be up for this kind of activity?"

"Are you?" she quizzed him.

He paused, as if he were considering his answer, when it was obviously positive. His hesitation didn't come from his lack of appreciation, but mostly from considerations outside of them. Still, he came up with an answer that pleased him.

"So far, yes. Maybe not forever, though."

"Hey," Rebecca confessed, "it's not forever for us either, you know. I mean, if I meet the right man, the one I want to settle down and have a family with, maybe I'll step away from this."

"Fair point," he replied.

He turned back to Myriam.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Two things," she finally volunteered. "The way you looked at me - so erotic. And your awkwardness around it all. It's endearing."

"Were you sincere when you said you were satisfied with just blowing me on our first night?"

"I was. That night was about the game, and you played it well. Last night - well, we threw the game out the window."

He apologized for it, but she merely smiled at him.

"That's why they invented the morning-after pill, Tom. Don't worry."

"I should pay for it," he said.

"Isn't he sweet?" Myriam turned to Rebecca. "I'll take half if you really insist - I'm at least partially responsible for letting you potentially knock me up."

Tom didn't argue the point. He was glad for two realizations: one, these women were on top of their affairs, which meant that they understood the implications of their actions; two, if he did continue spending time with them, he would certainly expand his sexual horizons. Rebecca's earlier comment came back to his mind, and he turned to her.

"You mentioned other guys?"

"Yeah. We have no regular boyfriends, just some guys we hang out with for fun. Like you."

"I think you're right," he told her. "I don't know if I'd want to meet them - but not for the reason you think. Not for jealousy."

With those words, he cast a glance at Myriam, who understood his concern. In fact, she decided to help him out.

"Given the fact that Tom and I go to the same university, well, it might not reflect well on him if many people knew we hung out together - let alone fucked."

Rebecca appeared to understand.

"Well, since I can't guarantee the discretion of anyone, including the girls, we'll have to treat it on a case-by-case basis. Frankly though, that whole teacher vibe - kind of hot!"

Rebecca and Myriam laughed; Tom stayed quiet but he couldn't disagree with the argument, considering how empowering it had felt last night to call her out as his 'private student' being 'punished'.

"Heck," Rebecca continued on the same thought," we might even make a game of it. You know - teacher and students, quizzing and stripping, and punishments."

She was reading his mind, Tom thought -- or maybe they just thought alike.

"I'd like that," Myriam said. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves with that."

"Might be fun," Tom considered.

"As I said," Myriam insisted. "We'll see."

The plan was made for the next Friday to get together. It was agreed that Tom would be the only male in attendance for that activity. When it came time to talk about female presence, Myriam turned to their assigned 'stud'.

"How many girls is too many for you?"

"I don't know," he plainly stated. "Last night, you were three and I only ended up with one anyway. Two, if you count later with you, but that was after the game was done."

"Yeah, I didn't mean sex necessarily. You'd have to take a boner pill to jump every girl that might show up in just one night!"

"Oh!" Tom took a step back.

Myriam laughed at her quip before continuing.

"Although it is part of it, but did you feel overwhelmed by the three of us?"

"No. I'm not challenged by the presence of women around me - I don't think so."

"So you're willing to try it out with more girls around?"

"Maybe."

"All right... we'll consider it for Friday."

A question burned Tom's lips and he felt the need to bring it up, since Myriam had hinted at the question.

"Just how many girls are in your... sex gang?"

Myriam and Rebecca laughed at the silly name, which really didn't accurately represent what they did, but there really wasn't a better term.

"Depends," Myriam replied. "Officially, there's twelve of us."

"Twelve? Wow."

"Oh yeah! But the truth is, the most we've ever been at the same time is nine. And that was a big party. We do it once a week, and generally, there's between 4 and 6."

"Besides," Rebecca chimed in," at least two are out of town right now, and another can only free herself once a month, maybe. She has a family."

"Okay. And the age range?"

This was perhaps the more troubling question, depending on the answer. Rebecca and Myriam reassured him.

"We're all of majority, Tom. Youngest is 20."

"Good to know. Sorry for asking."

They couldn't fault him for being mindful of at least that aspect.

"Can we not spread it around that I'm a teacher... or at least that I teach at the same university you go to?" Tom asked hopefully.

"We'll do our best," Myriam promised.

The conversation wound down, with everything now out into the open -- everything that mattered anyway. Tom didn't linger much further that morning. He did take a moment to thank Myriam profusely for the indulgence of last night, promising to be behave more rationally next time. She certainly didn't mind, she told him, but she expressed a wonder where that motivation and drive had come from. Tom shied away from the truth.

"Spur of the moment," he told her.

She let him go with a kiss and he returned home. Immediately, he hit the showers and cleaned his apartment. After all, Dana was coming over for supper. Once everything was clean or out-of-the-way, Tom uploaded the pictures he had taken from last night showing all three women engrossed in one another's company, and put them in the new folder designed for Myriam. He then deleted the pictures from his phone.

He then reviewed the instant message conversation with Dana. She would drop by his place around five, and she wanted a home cooked meal (that was implied, not stated). She knew Tom could handle himself in the kitchen from the various lunches he prepared himself for school - at least, that was Tom's reasoning.

He hurried to the grocery store. This visit felt like a date, though Tom was hoping he was reading the signs right. He reminded himself that they had already been physical on that last Tuesday, sharing a wild and intimate moment in their office. Afterwards, they had enjoyed a quite and pleasant conversation over coffee and food. Clearly, there was some compatibility there. And if she invited herself to his place, it was probably because she wanted to give him some control over the evening.

Tom came back with the ingredients to prepare a somewhat fancy dinner, hoping to impress Dana a bit. He didn't overdo it. By five, everything was setup. Table was set; the meal was cooking, to be ready for 5:30, and he had shaved the stubble and washed his face, and changed into something more presentable. He only had to wait for her arrival. Tom sat near the door, taking out his phone. By 5:15, he was frantically resisting the temptation to send her a message. By 5:20, he went to check on the food so it wouldn't overcook. By 5:25, he decided to text her.

TOM: Hi! I'm at home, waiting.

There was no immediate answer. Tom felt his heart race in his chest, a mixture of disappointment and anxiety racing across his face as he passed by the mirror. He checked his phone again, concerned something might have happened. She was so punctual usually.

At 5:30, he turned the stove off to avoid the food burning. He sat down in front of the screen, his heart in a knot, logging onto the profile of his favorite cosplayer, to bide his time: she always managed to calm him down with her unique style and erotic costumed pictures. He was scrolling through the pages with her recently featured images when his phone vibrated. He jumped on it.

DANA: I'm so sorry! I'll be late!

Tom melted in his chair, suddenly realizing how badly he wanted to see her. Before he could reply, another line came in.

DANA: Be there in 10. Please wait.

As if he were going anywhere, Tom thought to himself. The anxiety was swept away with relief. He replied briefly; no short message could translate his emotions.

TOM: Ok. See you soon.

She made it in the time she proposed. Tom watched her through the apartment window park her vehicle in his spot (usually free since he didn't own a car), and he waited patiently for her to walk up to his apartment door. He was waiting behind it but he let her knock. Taking in a deep breath, Tom allowed himself to fully recover from his tension.

Dana was smiling behind the door; she quickly tucked her glasses away as it came open. Tom smiled at her, relieved to see her standing there. She sported a white blouse and form-fitting dark pants.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello," he replied.

He let her in. They exchanged a brief embrace with a peck on the cheek, and then she walked in. He closed the door as she spoke.

"I am so sorry, Tom. My babysitter never showed."

"Babysitter? You had David."

"Yeah. I mean, I wasn't supposed to, but Randy didn't want him tonight, and I had already made plans. So I tried to call my mom this morning, but she had something with her friends. I called Lily, my usual sitter, and she said she'd come, so I was all set, but then she called again to let me know she couldn't because - I forget why... anyway, I was left high and dry, and with no one to take care of David, and I really wanted to come so I had to find someone in my block who could take care of him, and I found Mrs. Guertek, the widow one floor above, and she's watched him once or twice, and she said yes, so.... I'm here."

Tom watched her deliver her explanation at alarming speed, smiling all the while. When she paused, she giggled. Tom moved in closer and kissed her, then pulled back, afraid he had acted too quickly. She was still smiling.

"Yeah, that too. I really wanted to be here," she emphasized.

She bit her lower lip.

"Food is ready," he told her.

She bowed her head to the floor, then lifted her gaze towards his.

"Can we reheat it?"

"Sure," he mumbled, unclear as to what the question meant.

She jumped him without warning, pressing him into the door of his apartment, locking lips with a passion he didn't know she had. She pushed her tongue inside his mouth, forcing his lips open, trading saliva with ferocity. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders first as she pressed her entire frame against his. When she pulled her lips away, her eyes were ablaze with desire, and Tom wasn't far from it either.