Freshman Year In The Dorm Pt 05

"Dave said he wants to see you naked," I told Julia.

There was much more news of course. I had to tell her that my roommate Dave had been spying on her while she was humping my thigh to orgasm last night. I couldn't keep that kind of information from her, could I? It was best, though, to get to the topic gently. I didn't know how she would take it, so I decided to start off with a somewhat simpler topic.

Julia swallowed her mouthful of milk. "Ok," she said, laying the cup onto the table. Then she looked over at my tray and added "Are you going to eat those potato chips?"

Well, that was disappointing. "That's it?" I asked. "Just 'ok'?" I had expected a stronger reaction.

We were in the dining hall the day after, for a late lunch, so not too many people were around. I pushed my plate toward her so that she could take the chips. They were a little stale, so I didn't really want them anyway.

"Yeh," she said, completely nonchalant. "If he wants to see me naked, he can. Why not?"

Then she thought for a moment and asked, "Did he say it in those words? Just like that? 'I want to see Julia naked.' Like that?"

"His language," I answered, "was a little more vivid, but that was the idea."

Julia giggled excitedly. "Oooo, tell me. I've got to hear the exact words."

I swallowed, cleared my throat, and answered carefully. "His exact words were, 'I wish I could get a good long look at those pointy titties that stick out through her shirt all the time.' I edited it for politeness. I didn't want to offend your lady-like ears."

"You're quite a gentleman, looking out for my sensibilities," she said. "Does he only want to look or does he have other things in mind."

"I imagine," I said, still speaking very formally, "that there were other things he would like to do, but he did not mention them. It would be wrong of me to make assumptions."

"He's already seen those pointy titties a bunch of times, hasn't he?" she asked.

She was speaking of all the opportunities that he, and everybody else in the dorm, had had to look down, up, thru, and into her carefully-disarranged shirt to catch glimpses of her always-braless boobs. "Sure," I said, dropping the fake formality. "I think he's looking for..." I hesitated, looking for the right words. "I think he wants a good, long look, where he doesn't have to pretend he's not looking."

She nodded. "He's always so polite. A gentleman, like you. He acts like he's not looking and tries not to get caught. I like that. Not like some other assholes." (The asshole she was referring to was Ed, who lives in the room next to mine, and who thought it was sexy and manly to leer. But more about him later.) "If Dave wants a good long look, that's fine. I'll show him."

I ate one of the stale potato chips. I was stalling for time, but finally I worked up my nerve. "Maybe he's not as much of a gentleman as you think," I said, getting to the real topic.

She was puzzled. She was waiting for me to explain, so I just came out with it. "He was watching you hump my leg and cum. He was awake. He saw the whole thing."

That took a moment to register. One expression after another crossed her face, as she tried to decide what she thought about that. "We thought he was asleep," she finally said.

"Yeh. He gave me some bullshit about having a sex-detector that wakes him up when there's sex going on. He probably just woke up when we opened the door. That makes a noise."

She considered. "So he just laid there and watched us and didn't say anything? He was just lying there watching?"

It was worse than that. "No, not just laying there. He was jacking off. He came at the same time you did."

"He was jacking off and we didn't notice? And he came and everything and we had no idea?" she asked, incredulously.

"We were busy," I said. That was certainly true.

"So he was jacking off while he was watching me masturbate and give you a hand job?" She was quiet for a moment, then said. "I wish I'd known that. I was trying so hard to be quiet and I didn't need to. And I could have watched him jack off."

That was her response? A guy spied on her masturbating and she really didn't care? She confuses me sometimes.

"Does he know you're telling me?" she asked.

"Yeh. He's didn't want me to. He thought you'd be embarrassed. I told him that you'd probably rip his eyes out."

"Good answer," she said. "Let him think that."

"You're not mad?" I asked.

"Conners," she said, "this has great potential. He needs to suffer. That isn't his first fuckup either, what with that personal stuff he spilled to that looney girlfriend. We can rake him over the coals."

I understood what she had in mind, or at least I thought I did. Little did I know. "We can have a good time with this, can't we?"

"Yep," she said. "Lots of fun. He's at our mercy. But we need a plan. He wants to see me naked, and I'll want lots in return. He's not going to get it for free."

We were quiet for a bit. I thought she was coming up with a plan, but she'd been distracted. Her mind was on something else. She picked up the crappy pickle off my plate and took a bite. She grimaced. She didn't like it either.

Then she told me what was really on her mind. "Would you be jealous?" she said. "I mean, if I just walked into your room and took off my shirt and showed him everything, wouldn't you be jealous?"

I thought about that. I shook my head. I know I was supposed to say that I wouldn't be jealous because it's your body and you're not my property, and it's not my place to tell you what to do. Your body, your choices. Or some other such politically correct non-misogynist bullshit.

It was true that I wasn't jealous, but being a "modern male" wasn't the reason. I wasn't jealous because it didn't occur to me to be. Maybe it's because I'm not the jealous type, or because I know that Julia is Julia and she likes to have fun showing off. Or maybe it was simply that the thought of her showing him her boobs turned me on too.

So I answered, absolutely honestly. "I wouldn't be jealous," I said, shaking my head some more. "If you want to do it, go ahead. Show him whatever you want. Really."

Now she smiled with her trademark smirk. I could tell she was gearing up to mess with me. "What if," she said, "he saw my world-class perfect pointy titties and couldn't resist, and reached out and touched them, stroking my nipples and making them extra hard. Would you be jealous then."

I shook my head. That actually sounded like fun. "Nope. Not jealous."

"And then," she said, "what if we were so out of control that we ripped off each other's clothes and he threw me down on the floor and ravished me and gave me ten massive orgasms with his big hard dick and came inside me three times, without even using a condom. What then?"

I laughed. "I would hope," I said, "that you wouldn't let him do something you don't let me do. And, by the way, his dick isn't big."

She reached her hand across the table, and, with one finger, beeped me on the nose. "You're such a gentleman," she said. "I guess I won't let him do that." Then she added, "Especially if his dick isn't big." She gave me a huge grin.

She put down the rest of the pickle, then finished the glass of milk and moved her tray aside. Then she looked at me, more seriously. "Do you and Dave still give each other hand jobs and blow jobs at bedtime?" she asked.

That was an interesting change of subject. "We only did the sucking thing once. We didn't like it."

"But the hand jobs?"

"Yeh," I answered. "Not every night but sometimes. Why do you ask?"

She hesitated. "I was wondering..." She paused. "I was wondering If I should be jealous."

That caught me completely off guard. I had never even thought of that. Of course she shouldn't be jealous. "No," I said, looking at her eyes. "Of course not. We're just a couple of guys fooling around with our dicks."

Then I wondered what she really meant. "If you want us to stop doing that, we will. I don't want you to worry."

"No, no," she said, shaking her head adamantly. "I don't want you to stop doing it. It's nice that you two do that. I know what it is. But what I was wondering is why it would be different. I mean, if I were giving a guy a hand job, you'd be jealous, wouldn't you?"

That was a good question. Why was it different? Was it? I thought for a long minute, then I decided. "If you went out with a date with some guy and took him back to your room and fooled around with his dick, of course I'd be jealous. But if it was just part of the game, like you do when you let guys get a peak of your boobs, it would be ok. Especially if I were there."

Then I said the same thing, a little differently. "Julia, that the flashing you do, showing your boobs to the world, would make most guys pissed as hell. You know that. But me, I like it. I know you're just having fun and it really is fun for me too. If that went a little further, it wouldn't be a problem. I probably would enjoy that too. Does that make sense?"

She looked at me for a long time, saying nothing, just looking at me, in the most loving way. I knew exactly what she was thinking - he really understands me. Then she took my hand, cleared her throat, and said briskly, "So, Conners, I should show Dave my boobs?"

"Of course you should," I said. "It will give him a thrill. And you too. And probably me. It'll be fun. Just don't let him ravish you three times without a condom."

"Ok. We'll make a plan," she said. "We'll make him pay for all his sins, though."

Then we both stood up, picked up our trays and went our separate ways.

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Monday, Julia dropped by my room while Dave was out. She was carrying books, on her way to a study session, so she didn't sit down.

"Roomie has a friend coming to visit this weekend," she said. "She wants my bed. Can I share yours?"

"You can always share my bed, Julia. I'll check with Dave." Then I added, "What kind of a friend? Maybe with benefits?" I was thinking about Dave. He and Julia's roommate Kathryn had gone out together once but hadn't hit it off, so that fizzled into nothing. I was wondering if Kathryn had found a backup plan.

Julia knew what I meant. "The friend is a girl," she said. "I guess it's her BFF from high school. No benefits, just a friend. I asked about the benefits. I think she was freaked out by the question."

I laughed. "You asked her if she was having sex with her girlfriend from high school?"

"Well, I wanted to know so I asked. You wanted to know too, didn't you? If you want to know something, you ask. She didn't like the question. She's more—what do you call it? - strait-laced than me."

"You mean she's repressed and has a stick up her ass?" I asked. We both remembered Dave's psycho ex-girlfriend and her description of her own roommate.

"That's not nice," Julia answered. "She's really a good person. I like her. She just thinks about sex a little differently than me. Not so adventurous."

I turned back to the subject. "I'll check with Dave. I'm sure he'll be ok with it."

"No, don't," she said. "I want it to be a surprise. Don't tell him."

"It's part of the plan?" I asked.

She smiled. "Yep, but we need to rehearse. It's a complicated plan."

As Julia had taught me, planning is key to success.

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When Dave came back from the gym that evening, Julia and I were already in the room. We heard him laughing and joking with some people in the hallway, then he opened the door and saw us sitting there. His face fell. We glared at him.

He gently closed the door and looked at us, and started to speak, probably to apologize. Julia cut him off. "I don't want to hear it, asshole," she said. She wasn't yelling, but she was certainly convincing. She was going to take no shit off nobody.

Then she laid into him with everything she had. "That's what you are, you know. An asshole." Again he tried to speak and again she cut him off rudely.

"First you tell that psycho girlfriend of yours all that personal stuff about Conners' masturbation habits. Did you think he wanted the world to know that?"

She looked at me. I shook my head. I didn't want the world to know, did I?

She looked back toward the asshole. "And then you just sat there while she blabbed it all out, in the dining hall, where everybody, especially me, could hear? The most personal stuff imaginable! What's the matter with you?"

That wasn't really a question. Dave just stood there, by the closed door. He knew better than to speak. This tiny Asian girl was as intimidating as hell, and she wasn't nearly done with him yet.

"Then you keep trying to look down my shirt, like I'm some sort of meat that exists for you to leer at. You think I don't know you're doing that? You think I'm stupid? Every time I see you, you're trying to get a peek, to invade my privacy. It's my body, you know. Mine. Not for you. I have a face, you know. You could look at that sometimes."

He shook his head, but she ignored him and went on.

"Then you spy on Conners and me while we are doing some very intimate, private things. I was masturbating, for God's sake, and you just watched as if it was a show for your pleasure. What is wrong with you? And then you joke about it and think it's funny. And all the while you're masturbating yourself. With your roommate's girl in the room? A girl! As if it's ok to just whip out your pencil dick whenever you like regardless of who's around? What is wrong with you?"

His eyes were closed now. He was looking down at the floor. I was loving it.

"And then," she continued, "you tell Conners, in the most obscene language, that you want to see his girl's body? Pointy titties? You think that's what they are? Pointy titties? They're called breasts, asshole, not titties. And not just any girl, but the girlfriend of somebody you claim is a friend? If you talk that way about even me, how do you talk about other girls? You're a pig. You know that? A pig."

Then she clarified, "You're both an asshole and a pig. You know what that makes you? A pig's asshole. That's what you are."

She was finished with the monolog. Now came the good part. He still had his eyes closed and was looking at the ground.

"Look at me," she said. He did as he was told, opening his eyes and lifting his head, so she continued. "You want to see my pointy titties? Ok, you can see my pointy titties. I'm going to be sleeping here with Conners a lot so you'll eventually see everything anyway. So why not?"

Dave looked at her, puzzled.

"But you're going to make amends. Everything that you did to me, I'm going to do to you. You can see how it feels to be treated like nothing but a sex object. Then, and only then, will you see any pointy titties. And maybe I'll let you keep your eyeballs. Got it?"

He was even more puzzled now. He didn't answer.

"Do you understand?" she said. "You're going to get a lesson in what it feels like to be treated like you treat me. That's going to happen. Are we clear?"

He nodded, completely unsure what was going to happen, but totally afraid. He looked at me for help.

"Don't look at me," I said. "You picked a fight with the wrong person. This is between you and her." Was he going to cry?

"Now that we're clear," she said, "let's start with something simple. You like to ogle my body like I'm a piece of meat, so let's ogle you. Strip. Then I'll evaluate your body to see if it's good enough."

She pointed to his side of the room. "Over there. Strip."

Dave looked at me. I held up my hands, pantomiming helplessness, like there was nothing I could do to contain her rage. He understood. He'd better do it.

So he did. He took off his shirt. She continued glaring at him, so he kicked off his shoes, then dropped his sweatpants and waited. "You're not done yet," she instructed. "Everything."

He looked at me again, and again, there was nothing I could do. So he dropped the boxers and stood there, his dick hanging in the breeze, a stunned expression on his face.

"Socks," she said, pointing to his feet. He took those off and was now, to her satisfaction, completely naked. She now began her inspection. She looked at his arms and his back. She pinched his back, then his biceps. "I guess they're not that bad. Flabby. Nothing I'd go out of my way to look at," she said. "Nothing interesting."

Then she looked at his chest. She flicked one of his nipples with her fingers. She looked closely at it, with her head just inches away. "Too big," she said, "and too hairy. Nobody wants big hairy nipples." She back her head away a bit. "Chest is too hairy too. Disgusting."

Then she looked at his legs and assessed those. She took a good grip of his thigh, then gave her opinion. "Fat thighs. Fat calves. Those are too hairy too. Ugly feet. Do you pay any attention when you cut those toenails?" she asked.

"Turn around," she said. She made a circular motion with her hand, to show him what to do. He did it. She looked at his ass, squeeze it, then separated the cheeks. He startled, and tried to stop her, but she ignored him, pushing his hands away. Then she examined him carefully, and made her decision. "Nice asshole," she said. "It's your best feature. That's kind of appropriate," she said, "for somebody like you, isn't it?" She let his ass cheeks slap back together. "Clean it better next time you shit."

"Turn again," she said, and he did, now facing her again.

Then she got to the good part. She moved her face just inches away from his dick and studied it. "So this is that fabulous uncut dick that the psycho liked so much," she said. She picked it up by the tip, gingerly between two fingers, then let it drop. "I hope it gets bigger when it's hard," she said. "It's certainly not enough now." Then she lifted the dick to get a better look at the balls. She gave them a little squeeze, not quite enough to really hurt him, but he flinched anyway. "Those are good," she said. "They don't hang down too much. I hate it when balls hang down too much."

"Let's take a look at this foreskin that the psycho liked so much." She took hold of his dick, not at all gently, and pulled back the foreskin. She examined the head and touched the pee hole with her finger. Then she moved the foreskin up over the head, and back down again, then up, then down, then up then down. Sure enough, Dave's dick started to grow.

She turned to face me. "Look," she said, "it's getting hard. Will miracles never cease?" She kept moving the foreskin, watching his dick grow, very slowly.

Now she moved her head toward him and adjusted her shirt. "You want to look down my shirt, pervert? Well now's your chance. Take a good look. Maybe that will get this pencil dick hard." She still had his dick in her hand. He didn't look. She unbuttoned two buttons, and instructed him. "Look at the pointy titties, pervert. Look," she said.

Dave glanced over at me, silently asking what he should do. "She said to look," I answered. "Better do it. She's not going to give up until she sees your boner."

He looked down her shirt, as instructed. I could tell he had a clear view to everywhere. She moved the foreskin back and forth a few more times, then took her hand away, and put his hand there in its place. "That's your job. You do it. You thought it was ok to watch me masturbate, so I'm going to watch you. Lie down," she said. And she pointed to the bed. He laid on his back, and she sat down next to him.

"Cum," she instructed. "Don't stop till you cum."

He tried to object, but that was hopeless, so he started stroking, slowly, reluctantly. His dick still wasn't completely hard.

She was disgusted. He stroked some more. Still not hard. Still disgusted.

Julia then looked at me, asking what she should do. "What do we have to do to get this pencil dick hard?" she asked.