College Girls

As you might expect from the title, this story is a continuation of College Girls, Chapter 1.

*

The morning was chilly, but Susan still felt like having breakfast outside. Almost as soon as she'd sat down she heard someone coming up behind her. She looked up from her yogurt and saw Peter standing nearby, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

"You know my habits," she said, smiling. "Join me?"

Peter shook his head. "I'd love to, but I'm kind of late. I was hoping that I'd run into you so that ... I could invite you to dinner on Thursday." The last part came out a little too quickly.

She smiled again. She liked it when he was shy and uncertain. She hadn't seen Peter since the party at Ken's house the previous week, and ... well, she missed him. She missed him a lot. He'd said that he wanted to spend some time with her; and she'd been waiting with increasing impatience for him to ask. But she needed to be clear.

"Just dinner?"

Peter nodded. His confidence was returning. "Yes, just dinner. But there's something I'd like to show you afterwards."

Susan giggled – she couldn't help herself. "Nothing of yours, I hope?"

"I wish. It's cylindrical and enormous, but it belongs to a friend of mine."

She played along. "I hope you'll introduce me."

"Well, he'll be out for the evening. But I'm looking after it for him."

Susan shook her head. "I give up."

"Good. 7:30?"

* * *

They picked a restaurant where they weren't likely to see anyone they knew. Susan had to take a cab to get there, which was extravagant. But that was her fault. She had wanted to do it that way. Peter was waiting in a booth at the back, looking dapper in a black button-down oxford shirt. Susan looked around, a little furtively. An older man, out with his wife, eyed her appreciatively. But there wasn't anyone she recognized.

"It feels like we're having an affair," she said. "But without any of the good parts."

"We could fix that ..." Peter said hopefully.

She gave him a scowl that was only partly playful, and he dropped the subject. They chatted comfortably after that, like old friends. Susan felt unexpectedly happy. It was because she didn't feel any pressure, she realized. There was no place their relationship was supposed to go, nothing she felt she should or shouldn't do or say. As Peter told her about the anthropology field work he'd done the previous summer, Susan relaxed even more. Maybe they really could just be friends. She'd like that.

By the time dinner was over, Susan was giggling at everything Peter said, even if it wasn't meant to be funny. She was still a little giddy as they left the restaurant and got into his car. He drove into the hills north of town. For a moment, Susan was afraid that Peter was going to suggest they park on the ridge up there that looked out over the city lights and make out like high-school kids. She tensed up at the thought. But no, he kept on driving, and Susan felt oddly disappointed.

They reached an elegant-looking house with a large open yard behind it. The house was dark and had that slightly creepy no-one's-home look. Susan glanced at Peter a little suspiciously, but he just pointed towards the back yard and a small round building a little distance from the main house. Peter seemed to have a key for it. Her first impression of the dim interior left her more puzzled than ever. They'd stepped into a small room dominated by a desk laden with computers and humming electronic equipment. There was a big, comfy-looking couch against the opposite wall and a door that presumably led deeper into the building.

Susan leaned close to Peter, conspiratorially, and lowered her voice. "So you're a spy? Is that it? I'd always suspected as much."

He grinned. "Yes, well, I knew I'd have to tell you sooner or later." He looked insufferably smug. "Actually, this is called the 'warm room'."

"Implying a cold room somewhere nearby?"

He indicated the inside door. "Right this way."

They stepped through the door and into a larger and even darker space with a concrete floor. It was indeed quite chilly. As her eyes adjusted, Susan could make out a metal framework that formed a large cylinder mounted at an angle to a steel pipe. She nodded, finally getting it.

"An observatory."

"Right. One of the biggest private ones in the state, apparently. Built by a friend of mine named Jason. If you ever meet him he'll tell you all about it. Just make sure you don't have anything else planned for that evening. Anyway, you said that you were interested in astronomy."

Susan looked around, trying to take it all in.

"Of course," Peter continued, "if I had his money, I'd probably buy a Lamborghini instead ..."

"That's because you're shallow and narcissistic."

"Right. I love you too."

Susan let that one slide. "How does it work?" she asked, pointing to the telescope. "Can we look through it?"

"That's why we're here. You can control everything from the warm room, if you want to stay, you know, warm. But then you'll just be looking at a computer screen. It's just not the same. It's like looking at a photograph of someone instead of the real person."

Peter studied her for a moment and smiled. She smiled back. "Not that I wouldn't mind having a photograph of you," he said.

"Later. How do you turn it on or whatever?"

Peter sighed. "I don't know the details. Jason just left it set up in idiot mode for me. Any favorite objects you'd like to look at?"

She thought about that for a second. "Sure. How about the Andromeda galaxy? Can you do that?"

"I'll try."

He walked up to a small display screen at the base of the telescope. He typed something and the roof of the building slid open slowly. Very cool, Susan thought. I want one of these for my bedroom for warm summer nights. The telescope slewed around and settled into a position pointing almost straight up.

"I guess Andromeda is near the zenith at the moment." He peered into the eyepiece and nodded. "Have a look. You might have to re-focus."

Susan studied the instrument for a moment. There was a big camera attachment off to one side. Otherwise, it looked like a lot like the little telescope she'd pestered her dad to buy for her when she was fourteen and all her friends wanted ponies. She had to lean over quite a bit to get her head lined up properly with the eyepiece. She noticed Peter taking advantage of her position to admire the way her black pants stretched over her rear. She smiled to herself and ignored him. She tweaked the focusing knob until ...

"Oh, my god, there it is!"

A swirl of stars filled her field of vision, brilliantly clear and surprisingly colorful. She'd seen photographs of this galaxy – she even had an astronomy book that had it on its cover. But Peter was right. Really seeing it ... It was like going to Paris and actually seeing the Eiffel Tower or the Mona Lisa.

"I guess this is why people have telescopes," Susan said. "Normal people, I mean. Not scientists."

"Well, I'm not sure that Jason fully qualifies as normal ..."

"You're just jealous. How long have you known him?"

"About a month."

"Just a month? And he lets you use his observatory when he isn't around?"

"I think he sees me as a kindred spirit. I'm not sure that's an entirely good thing."

Peter was grinning, though. He fiddled with the keyboard again. "Here's a globular cluster Jason showed me. I like all the purples and blues. But, really, you can point this thing just about anywhere and it's one wonder after another."

They traded smiles as Peter moved the telescope around. The ring nebula in Lyra was wisp of blue vapor, the crab nebula like the chaos of a Jackson Pollock canvas. Susan felt like a kid in a candy store. But there was something Peter had said that was bothering her.

"You just met Jason a month ago? About the same time we met?"

"The next day, actually. You told me that you were interested in astronomy, so I asked my physics professor if he knew any amateurs in the area who had telescopes. He introduced me to Jason."

"Wow. Just so you could take me here?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"What would you have done if I'd told you that I was interested in lion taming?"

Peter looked at the floor. "Are you angry?"

"No. Not at all. I think that was really sweet. I'm just ... surprised, I guess. That you'd go to that much trouble."

"No trouble at all. I think it's just as cool as you do. Okay, cool isn't the right word. It's really pretty nerdy. But it got me alone with you in a dark room, right?"

She nodded and took a step closer to him. "Yes. It did. So what are you going to do about it?"

They were facing each other, only a few inches apart. The invitation had been as clear as she could make it. She hadn't planned it this way. Exactly the opposite, actually. But something had changed. Her reservations had evaporated the instant she'd looked into the eyepiece. Why? Were galaxies and nebulae erotic? There was no time to wonder about that. A heartbeat later there was no distance at all between them. Peter lifted her chin and kissed her. Her arms went around his neck, pulling them even closer together, and his warmth flowed into her, dissolving the chill of the observatory.

After a long time, Peter broke the kiss. "There's a couch in the warm room," he said.

Susan nodded, barely able to speak. "Okay."

Her legs began to shake as she followed him into the small room, and she had to sit down on the couch. Her hands were clumsy as she tried to undo her blouse; the buttons on her sleeves took three or four tries. She kicked off her shoes, unzipped her pants and shimmied out of them. She was wearing her prettiest underwear – light blue, sheer and silky. The high cut of the panties exposed the sides of her hips, and her nipples, hard as pebbles, were easily visible through the filmy fabric of the bra. Without admitting it to herself, she was thinking this might happen when she'd dressed that evening.

"These stay on," she said, indicating her wispy underthings. "'Cause, you know."

Peter sighed. "Yeah, I know."

He wasn't doing much better than she had with the buttons on his shirt. She waited, sitting nervously on the edge of the couch, looking down, her hands in her lap, feeling very vulnerable and exposed. The rustling of clothes seemed to go on for a long time. When she finally looked up, Peter was standing next to her, completely naked.

"Oh," she said, flustered. She'd expected him to leave his shorts on, to sort of keep things even. She thought about asking him to put some clothes back on, but that seemed a little ridiculous. And ... well, she really wanted to look at him. When she'd seen him before it had been so furtive, through half-closed eyes in her dorm or across that dark room in Ken's house. But here he was, right in front of her, all of him: the smooth columns of his legs, the neat rows and columns on his taut stomach, the muscles playing in his arms as he reached for her. And his cock sticking straight up, long and pale and quivering slightly. She wanted to wrap her hands around it; she'd wanted to since the night she first saw him, and now there it was, just a few inches away ...

But she couldn't quite bring herself to do it, not yet. She reached out tentatively and laid one hand on his chest instead. He stood still and let her caress him. His skin was soft, but she was always aware of the muscles beneath it, tough and vital. She ran her hand down his stomach and along his hip. Without exactly meaning to, her arm brushed against the tip of his cock. Peter shuddered.

Susan pulled her hand away quickly. No. She couldn't do it. She couldn't touch him there. Being half-naked like this was all right, somehow. But that would take her somewhere else, somewhere she couldn't let herself go.

Peter hesitated, then sat down beside her on the couch and leaned over to kiss her. That was better, much better. She let the kiss swallow all her thoughts until she was completely lost in it, her eyes closing, her body bending towards his. She realized vaguely that his hands were on her bare shoulders and without meaning to she was falling slowly backward until she was lying on her back. Peter shifted his body until he was alongside her and his lips found hers again. So much of him was touching her; what they'd done before had been so fleeting, a quick kiss, a few touches. This felt so much more complete. They could take their time, explore each other.

He lay between her thighs now and the hair on his legs tickled her sensitive skin. She put her hands on his shoulders tentatively and ran them down his back, bumping over his ribcage, wanting to feel the firmness of his butt. She'd been dying to touch it since she'd watched him from behind, pumping in and out of Kate as she lay bent over the arm of Ken's couch. Susan moved her fingertips a little further down, to where his buttocks began to curve up from his lower back. Peter's kisses became more urgent; his tongue probed deeper into her mouth. Susan's pussy throbbed so badly she could barely stand it. Peter shifted down a little until his cock, brutally hard now, pressed against her mound.

Oh, god

, she thought. I have to have him.

His hips shifted back, easing the pressure for a moment. Susan tried to catch her breath. And then suddenly she felt the head of his cock pushing the fabric of her panties into her pussy. The tip, all of it, strained at her opening. If it weren't for that little bit of cloth he'd be ...

Peter grunted and jerked his hips forward, desperate to drive himself deeper inside. Susan's body didn't know how to react, the wanting him and not wanting him left her paralyzed, her eyes wide, her mouth open. Finally, Peter took a deep breath and willed himself to stop. He lifted himself onto his elbows, his chest heaving, sweat beading on his forehead.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just lost control ..."

"I know," Susan said thickly. Me too."

He collected himself for a moment then leaned down to kiss her neck. She closed her eyes and let her fingers stray across his butt, following the curve of the taut muscles. His lips grazed her skin, his breath warming each spot. He kissed her along the edge of her bra strap, stopping as he reached the top of one cup. Then he surprised her by pulling the strap down until the cup had peeled partway back, exposing the top of her breast and a sliver of pink aureole. Susan saw his nostrils flare, his eyes move down her chest.

I'll stop him if he pulls it any lower, she thought, not sure if she really would. But he didn't. He just dragged his tongue across the flushed, sensitive skin below her neck. His hand moved between their bodies, stroking her belly, tracing the edge of her hip, teasing the skin above her panties.

And then he did it again, grabbing the top of her panties and pulling them down. Susan gasped when she realized what had happened. The waistband was now halfway down her hips, freeing a puff of pubic hair. The protection her minimal clothing provided had become even more ephemeral. Peter looked down at her, his eyes lingering on the remaining triangles of fabric. He moved his head down until he could kiss the newly exposed skin just above her bra. She let out a sharp cry as the tip of his tongue moved across the boundary that marked where the darker-pink skin of her aureole began. The tiny bumps offered more resistance than the smooth skin of her breast, and the infinitesimal friction sent sparks through her entire body. She couldn't stand it. If he were to rip the rest of her clothing off right now she wouldn't stop him. She wanted to beg him to do it

now

, to suck her whole breast into his mouth, to slip his fingers into her pussy. But she couldn't, she just couldn't. He kept licking along the edge of her bra. He wormed the tip of his tongue under it until he found where her nipple began to rise, the skin there pulled tight, painfully hard and blindingly sensitive. He tickled and nuzzled and worried the tiny bit of flesh until she ground her pussy against his thigh and let out a sharp moan.

Peter pulled back, startled at the violence of her reaction. Susan let go of him and lay back, her eyes closed, her barely-covered breasts slick with perspiration. She wanted his mouth back on her skin; she wanted him to kiss her everywhere, on every inch of her exposed flesh. And tonight, at least, he seemed so perfectly attuned to her unspoken desires that he did exactly that. His nose tickled along the gentle curve of her stomach, his tongue flicked into her belly button. He stroked along the insides of her arms and blew gently on her inner thighs, setting all of her alight, leaving her buoyant and breathless.

She wasn't sure how much time passed. His lips and his tongue never seemed to tire of her. As he worked his way closer to her center, Susan realized that her panties had been pulled awry and the narrow strip of fabric between her legs had sunk into her pussy, leaving her swollen outer lips exposed. The same thing had happened in his dorm room. But this time she didn't have the strength to fight it. She just sighed and let her legs move a little further apart. She felt Peter's breath at the junction of her thighs and then the gentle rasp of his tongue, exploring the bare, puffy flesh, flushed pink now and fragrant with her juices. He licked her everywhere, sucking the folds between his lips, teasing along the edge of the bunched fabric that just barely blocked his access to her deepest recesses.

Her arousal deepened like a cat's purring, like the electric hum of the equipment in the room, steady and powerful, saturating every part of her. She hardly noticed when Peter moved back on top of her and their limbs entwined. He had so many different textures, his neck so soft, the muscles in his chest so dense, and his cock ... it was like silk, like horn, like iron, burning hot and sticky-wet at the tip. Then their lips met and that felt more like sex than anything else they'd done so far. All the touching, the licking, that was just ... playing, fooling around, something friends might do together if they'd had too much to drink or just felt closer than usual. She'd kept her clothes on, sort of. But their lips were naked, completely naked. The way he was kissing her – she couldn't just tell herself that it was innocent. She couldn't talk to Kate about it. She had to

stop

.

She pulled away, out from under him, until they were lying side by side. Peter didn't say anything. He knew as well as she did that they were about to cross a line, the real line. He'd been a gentleman, keeping his hands out from her underneath her clothes, mostly, anyway. And she hadn't touched him ... not on his private places. That was how it needed to stay.

She thought about it for a moment then shifted around on the couch, crawling down until her face was just opposite his cock. She let her hair brush against the shaft, let the head glide along the smooth skin of her cheek and her neck.

"Susan," he whispered. "Don't."

"Shh," she said. "It's all right."

Her hand stroked his inner thigh, stopping just as she could touch the pubic hair around his balls. Peter's cock jumped, brushing against her face, almost as if it was seeking her lips. She inhaled his sharp musk and stared at the pulsating vein that ran along the underside, following it up to the helmet-shaped head, blushing crimson now. She brushed it with her forehead, with her nose. The skin seemed so smooth and elastic, so supple. She breathed gently on it, enjoying Peter's reaction. The feeling was starting again, the pressure building in her loins. She didn't have the patience he did. She needed more of him

now

.

She sat up and pushed on Peter's shoulder until he rolled onto his back. She admired his recumbent form for a moment, the broad chest and flat stomach. Then she swung one leg over him until she was sitting across his thighs, his cock nestled against the front of her panties. She readjusted them to give him a smoother surface, then began shifting forward and back, rubbing his shaft through the furrow between her pussy lips. She loved the warmth of his skin against the backs of her thighs and her butt, the feel of him sliding against her. Peter reached up and cupped her breasts with both hands, pushing her stiff nipples hard into her chest.