Same day. I was in the library making plans for our 2-month anniversary night. Though I'd been considering it for a long time, I was still under-prepared. I had some calls to make, some research to do.
The mood around me changed suddenly. A general perking up preceded Carol's entry into the lounge -- the room always changed, now, when she walked in. She flounced through the glass double-doors, her heavy shoes clapping on the floor, her bag bouncing on her hip. Her breasts swayed in counter-time to each step, and I hadn't realized just how showy that square decolletage was.
Her collar bones cast shadows, the nape of her neck was bare, both of her breasts were bare to half-way down. The curves were bare on both sides of each breast, and it was mesmerizing to watch the weight of them shift smoothly under the skin.
Her legs, for me, were the best. The bottom of her little frock was a little like a loin-cloth, split up the sides as it was. She paused and surveyed the room, and her strong, tan upper thighs thrust out sideways through the slit.
My eyes drifted lower, to her knees. Still a little grimy, from when, earlier that day, she had dropped to her knees in front of a strange older man, and took his cock in her mouth. This observation inevitably made my eyes drift to her face: beautiful, glowing with an inner light. She had, as she almost always did, a wide, friendly smile. She'd wrinkle prematurely from all the smiling -- but smile wrinkles are the best. Her lipstick had been fixed.
A few of her friends were there at the main table in the lounge. She passed by them, leaning over and chatting in low whispers. She came up behind or beside her guy friends, bending at the waist to bring her mouth down to them. Every time, the whole table would grow still and everybody would stare fixedly down her front.
I heard the sharp little smacking noise of her kisses, loud in the quiet room. People looked up at the noise, and saw her. If I had been her, I would have gotten bored, kissing every guy every time I met them... but never once did I ever see her get bored, or skimp on giving attention to anybody.
Also, whenever she bent over, the bottom of her frock climbed up her butt. Often as not, the fluorescent lighting illuminated the two creases between her ass and the tops of her thighs. I didn't see anything myself, but I knew the people in the low chairs behind her got a considerable
hint
when she leaned over in front of them.
And any other girl would have bent at the knees, or hooked a hand around to hold the hem of her skirt down (while the other hand came up to cover her chest). But Carol, after nearly two months of running around in short skirts and small tops, could care less about what was going on. Today she would be wearing that frock for about 18 hours. Why should she care about the scattered total of five minutes when someone might be getting a peek? Being a show-off is 1% going 'oops', and 99% just not giving a crap.
She finally got to me, and squeezed into the love-seat. Compared to her promiscuous touching, kissing and chatting with her friends, she was positively nun-like with me. Day to day, every so often, to reaffirm that she was indeed my girlfriend, I would grab her and snuggle her like all the rest of the guys. She had this way of melting in my hands... just going bone-loose like the rest of the world had stopped existing.
She said, "I told Alphonso that if he could find a nice quiet place in the building, I'd give him a blow-job."
"No!" I said. "Really? You just came out and said it?"
"Well, yeah," she smirked. "I made out with him after class, like we discussed? And he was asking for more. Like, whining. He's the worst of them. All these guys, they just take take take, and I give give give. And he wanted more."
"How many times did he ask? Did he ask for one, point blank?"
"
Yes
, it kind of stunned me. Though I guess it shouldn't, now." She shrugged with a wondering expression on her face, as if to say, what is the world coming to?
"And everybody is getting needy, huh?" I asked. "Well, we expected it."
"It seems like the natural next step," she said again. That was her phrase from the morning. As if, by saying the phrase, she didn't have to make a decision about it.
"It
is
the natural next step," I told her. "In fact, I feel a rule coming on."
"Oooh!" she giggled, in pretend fright. "Another rule! I thought we were running out of rules."
"Sweetie," I said, "I have a ton of them. And this is one I'm going to love."
"Well, tell it to me. I feel all weird, after this morning. Like I should be doing something I regret. Right
now.
If I'm going to regret today, and probably tomorrow night, then why not the whole week? And why not next week?"
Her voice had been steadily climbing. She had a glassy look in her eyes, kind of distracted, like the addicts that panhandle for quarters on the street. Her gaze floated around the room.
I shushed her, and wrapped an arm around her to quiet her down. "Okay," I said. "Here it is. Guys are really turned on by you. Guys are asking you for things. You can still say no."
"I can?" She seemed a little surprised. "I can still tell guys no?"
"Yes, you can say no. That's not the rule. But if they ask three times, bang-bang-bang, you have to say yes."
"I can make them do that," she said. Then she gave a start, and glanced at me. She had a crazy grin. "I mean, that could happen. But... Any strange fucker on the street could just yell at me three times. The newspaper stand guy in Queens..."
"If it's somebody who isn't a friend, then it's your judgement call. But if you're friends with the guy -- kissing friends -- then you have to say yes. But only if they ask three times in the same conversation. Of course, if you want to say yes before that, you can. Like if you still haven't done one of the other rules, and you need to make out with someone. But 'no' is okay, up to their third try."
She took a deep breath, thinking about it. "That's for the best. Saying 'no' will turn away a lot of guys. I don't want to spend all my time sucking people off. Not
all
my time." She nodded, growing into the idea. "Yes, Tyler. That's a good rule. I like being able to say 'no.' It's like I'm not easy."
Damn, she was such a darling. Here she was, with a new rule that made her an easy target for every guy who basically knew her name. If you went up to her and said hello, she would probably kiss you. If she kissed you, you could ask her three times to suck you off, and she would. She was agreeing to open up an avenue, to have her friends use her for quick gratification, and she was glad because it didn't make her easy!
She was nodding in satisfaction. And -- sometimes she was so transparent -- she was even licking her lips. She'd admitted it before: she got a visceral level of happiness, just hearing about the rules. She loved all aspects of the rules. Just thinking about fulfilling them. And reporting how she'd fulfilled them. According to her, the actual deed was secondary. What she liked was the anticipation, and the come-down at the end, when she was telling me what she'd done.
She said talking about it afterwards was like watching a totally hot, raunchy porn film, and being
inside
the girl. Like she was looking at someone else doing it, but getting all the physical sensations. If she could, she would probably send out a robot look-alike to collect the experiences, and meanwhile she'd be sitting next to me reporting, move by move, what was happening to her. That easy, slutty Carol persona was like a third person, that she and I shared between us.
"And now," I said, "I want you to get more cum in your stomach."
That snapped her out of it. A mere few weeks ago, she would have been awkward, reserved, her eyes downcast. Now she was entirely comfortable. She met my gaze squarely, and said, "Are you sure? Right here? Right now?"
"Well, somewhere in the library. I don't know who."
Her eyes drifted across the lounge, to the row of windows facing onto the stacks of books.
"Over there," she said, nodding to the stacks. Behind them were the study carrels, little rooms with a few chairs and a desk, which students used to meet in small groups. "I'll drag someone into one of those rooms."
"Okay," I said.
"You can see me from here, so you don't even have to move. I'll prowl --" she giggled softly "-- and you can watch me make my moves. Then I'll walk him to the carrels, and we'll find an empty one."
"Then you'll blow him," I said.
