Malcolm closed his eyes, released a deep breath of exhalation, and allowed himself to go ahead and relish the orgasm he had been struggling to delay. The pretty blonde co-ed on his lap had just had one of her own, and he had held still and held off while her spasming around him had peaked and ebbed away. He always tried to make sure she came first, and at least once; if nothing else, it helped keep her coming back, he figured.
But now he could just relax and concentrate on the wave of sensation that came billowing up like a mushroom cloud, up from that point below the pit of his stomach, spreading through his abdomen and his chest until it made his shoulders clench. And then felt his cock, enveloped in the warm, slippery caress of a twenty-one-year-old pussy, pulsing, and he tightened his grip on the young woman's hips and forced her down onto him as he spurted up against her cervix.
Five ... six .... seven ..... he exhaled again, only now aware that he had been holding his breath again while ejaculating inside his best friend's little sister. He opened his eyes, and felt another little surge of satisfaction, like an aftershock to his earthquake, at the vision she presented to him.
She was so pretty; the prettiest girl he had ever gotten up inside of. Right now, her short blonde hair had fallen down over one eye, and her face and her upper chest were still flushed. Her small breasts were rising and falling gently with her still-labored breathing, and between his thumbs, where his hands still grasped her right at the top of the swell of her hips, her little round tummy was quivering.
Even after being on top, she looked well-fucked, he thought with satisfaction. And he had been the guy to make her look that way. Again.
After a moment, she leaned forward, reaching out to place her hands on his shoulders, and resting on her extended arms, dropping her head so her fair fell down over her face. With the angle between their bodies increased, he felt his softening cock begin to slip out of her. He moved his hands up over her sides, noting how pale and pristine the flesh of her torso still was, even now at the end of summer. Her arms and shoulders and thighs sported a golden tan; but she only sun-bathed in one-piece swimsuits.
He smiled at the connection. A one-piece swimsuit. It was so like Kelly. So demure. He had known her for seven years now, since she was a freshman in high school, and he had gone home with his college roommate and new best friend over winter break. He had first seen her in a choir robe, angelic with her radiant white-blonde hair and porcelain skin. Getting ready to go to church for choir practice. She was the apple of her big brother's eye, her daddy's little treasure. And he had "kept an eye on her," as he had promised her brother, when she had arrived on campus the same year he graduated and found work here in this college town where he was comfortable, and where he had a girlfriend who was still an undergraduate.
His girlfriend was his fiancé now, but she was in graduate school, a few hours away. But he was still here, and so was Kelly. And true to his word, he had kept an eye on her, including a couple of instances of jump-starting dead batteries, as she had moved through three years of college as the classic, all-American co-ed. Just what her family imagined. Good grades. A couple of years of junior varsity volleyball (she was
made
for those shorts, or vice versa, he mused); and a normal series of three serious boyfriends, one for much of each school year, including what he gathered was standard, healthy monogamous sexual activity for a liberated young woman now in the late 1970s, with the pill so readily available.
So in fact, with her all-American credentials, she had surprised him when he had finally taken his shot this past spring. She was between boyfriends, and he had wryly suggested that what she needed was just some no-strings-attached sex.
(What he didn't say was why: because he thought she put too much energy into meeting other people's expectations, being the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, the perfect girlfriend. Soon she would graduate and whoever she was dating at that time would want her to become the perfect wife and then the perfect mother. She really did need some imperfection in her life.)
She had responded with a scowl, a roll of her eyes ... but not a rejection. She hadn't objected when he had reached out and unbuttoned the top button of her flannel shirt. And fifteen minutes later, she had her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and he had been balls deep inside her for the first time. So apparently, she had agreed with him.
Now she was slowly getting up off him, and out of his bed. He crossed his arms behind his head and watched with satisfaction as her perfect heart-shaped bottom jiggled a bit on her way across the room to begin retrieving her clothes. He still found himself amazed at how much he enjoyed this peculiar aspect of their relationship ... how often she would begin to undress as soon as they were together and begin dressing again shortly after his spent cock had slipped out of her, and how often their only conversations took place in the two minutes when she was taking off or putting on her clothes.
"This has been fun," she said this time.
"Yeah, it sure has," he replied, casually. Then it dawned on him what she was implying. "Oh."
She smiled at him, with a hint of melancholy in her eyes. He sat up. He knew the school year was about to begin, and things were bound to change. Oh.
"So, you're saying, this is goodbye, then?"
"Not goodbye," she countered. "We'll see each other around, no doubt." He was her brother's best friend. Social interaction was inevitable.
"But not for ... this," he mused, glancing back over his shoulder at the rumpled bedsheets.
She sighed. "School starts next week. Rory moves back to town this weekend."
"Uh huh. And so, like he's made a commitment? It's settled? You're 'going steady' now?"
Kelly gave him a scowl. "Mal ..." she started to chastise. "I just think I need to give him -- and me -- the opportunity to see where it goes. Naturally."
"I get it," Malcolm nodded, trying to sound cavalier. He didn't want to sound disappointed. He was failing.
"Jesus, Mal, don't get weird about this on me," she muttered.
Mal frowned. "I'm not being weird," he muttered back, feeling ... weird. It wasn't like he was feeling jealous. Well, actually, yes, it *was* something like feeling jealous. It wasn't that he wanted what Rory was apparently about to get -- a chance to have Kelly as his "girlfriend." He never wanted anything more than the thrill of fucking her. Over and over again. And he was going to miss that.
"So," Malcolm ventured. "Next week, when Rory's back here at Chick Central, are you sure he's not going to be dating other girls, too?"
Kelly was stepping back into her jeans. She paused with them halfway up her thighs and stared back at him. "I don't know," she said defiantly. "He might."
Malcolm shrugged. He wanted to go back to being cavalier and disinterested. "Just sayin'. I get it, we were only hanging out because you weren't dating anyone, so you weren't 'cheating' on anyone. I'm just, uh ... well, you sure you aren't assuming something?"
"Look, I don't want to talk about it," she replied, pulling her jeans up the rest of the way, with that adorable little hop to stretch them over the delicious curve of her hips.
She was probably right, he thought. He didn't even know Rory, but he assumed the young man was smitten. That was one of the things about Kelly. Malcolm figured that every boy who had ever dated her had thought he had hit the jackpot. And quickly dropped everything else and tried to hold on to her by giving her everything they thought she wanted. Malcolm was the first guy who had ever treated her as just a pleasant diversion, an enjoyable but disposable side piece. And he knew, a part of her enjoyed the complete lack of pressure of that status.
"So, you're ready to go back to being a guy's ideal, exclusive girlfriend."
She didn't respond, concentrating on buttoning up her blouse. But she didn't deny it.
"Is that what he wants?" Malcolm pressed.
"It's what I want."
"Uh huh. You ever ask yourself
why
that's what you want?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, do you want to be in a picture-book, exclusive, monogamous relationship because that's what
