After the most amazing afternoon of my life on Friday, I saw little of Monica or Amanda for the rest of the weekend. The girls had taken me to a few more shops, and I'd ended the day with a couple pairs of jeans, some nicely cut shirts, a cool sportcoat, and a new pair of shoes. In total, 6 new pieces of clothing cost more than my entire wardrobe, but I had to admit that they looked good. Amanda had even showed me that some of my t-shirts would look nice and purposefully "vintage" (instead of just old) if I combined them with the nicer stuff I had just gotten.
Our first fashion designs for school were due on Monday, and I was struggling. "Mate, don't push it," my roommate Karim suggested. Karim had quickly become my best friend in Paris. Not having many close friends in the US, he was practically my best friend anywhere. His father was a Nigerian diplomat who had moved the family to Russia, Italy, and Thailand throughout his youth, and Karim was quick to make friends everywhere he went. He was nearly a foot shorter than I was, standing no taller than 5'5", but was wider through the shoulders and much more muscular. He liked to joke that finding clothes was like trying to outfit a fire hydrant. He was also the blackest man I had ever met, and his shaved head shined like a mirror.
"This is the first outfit you've ever designed. How good was your first programming assignment?"
"Complete shit," I said, chewing on my pencil and staring at the drawing of a simple suit I was attempting.
"Of course it was! And how good were you at fucking the first time?"
I cringed a little. Karim would have been accepting if I'd told him I was a virgin, but it was embarrassing ... being 22 years old, and only two days removed from my first blowjob, I was not ready to have that chat. "You're right. I was complete shit."
"And your first fashion design will be complete shit also!" He flashed his big smile that seemed to split his head in two. I rolled my eyes at him, and turned as I heard the door to the studio opening. Emmi and Karim had been an inseparable couple for the past two weeks. Emmi was German, and as pale as Karim was dark. The left side of her head was shaved, and her pink and black hair swept over from the right side. Her sleeves were rolled up, showing the tattoos which started at each wrist and disappeared into her shapeless canvas shirt, reemerging to dance across the exposed skin of her neck and upper chest. Her skin-tight black pants with pink skulls disappeared into her knee-high platform boots. Despite the two extra inches her boots gave her, she still barely broke 5 feet tall.
"My darling Gary," she pronounced my name and 'darling' with a long 'ah' sound, which the class had begun to imitate, "your suit looks a bit like shit. That shape is for a woman, not for a man. You will like Caraceni. The suits that he made in 1930s are like this." She was brutal with her criticisms, but always followed the criticism with precise insight to get me past the corner. Her drawings had been flawless from the first day; the colors impeccable, the structure excellent, and the texture of her sketched fabrics seemed almost tactile. She kissed me on the cheek. "Do not worry, my darling Gary. Everybody is shit the first time."
She left my workspace and stood behind Karim, rubbing his shoulders and looking at his drawings. "You are drawing a beautiful suit, Karim, but there's something off ... maybe you are stressed. Maybe we should go fuck upstairs while Gary finishes. Then you will be relaxed, I will be relaxed, and you can come finish."
"Yes, my little edelweiss, let's go. Gary, do you need something from the room? Is it cool?" I nodded and smiled. The two of them were pretty considerate, but they could lock themselves away for hours.
"I have my computer down here. I'll look up Caraceni and see if I can finish this in the next couple of hours."
Emmi kissed me on the cheek again on the way out, and Karim clapped me on the shoulder. "Even Caraceni was shit the first time, mate."
***
A few hours later, Karim and Emmi stopped back in the studio to see if I wanted dinner. I declined and took the opportunity to take over our bedroom. Sitting alone in the studio, struggling to finish, I had been consistently distracted by the thought of Friday afternoon. Was Monica really interested in doing more? Did Amanda actually like me back? What would have happened if she had caught us?
The last question had quickly driven my blood and attention to my dick, which swelled quickly as my brain toyed with possible scenarios. With more than a little effort at concentrating, I finished my work, and Karim and Emmi's exit prompted a quick retreat to the room.
Back in the room, I dropped my things on my desk and sprawled across the lower bunk of our two beds, looking at my clock as 10 PM hit. The room still smelled faintly of sex. They had left the window open, but the tangled sheets on the bunk above my bed held the smell, and the blood rushed back into my dick. I didn't fight the swelling this time, unzipping my fly, and releasing my rapidly thickening cock. Per Monica's instructions, I had taken to not wearing underwear, and was pleased at the ease of access.
I began to picture Amanda walking in on me and Monica. She would be shocked at first, maybe, then aroused. Monica would reach out to her, placing Amanda's hand around my throbbing cock. Amanda would lean forward, her tongue reaching out -
A knock on the door cut through my reverie, and I scrambled to cover myself. "Shit. Just a second, I'm coming," I called out, as I stuffed my quickly deflating member into my pants. As I opened the door, there stood Monica smiling up at me.
"You're not coming yet, but you will be," she said as she slid past me. I closed and locked the door, staring at Monica as she looked around the room. "My darling Gary," she says, imitating Emmi's pronunciation, "have Emmi and Karim been at it again, or have you found somebody other than my sexy, big-breasted roommate? It smells an awful lot like sex in here." Despite a simple outfit and no makeup, Monica looked incredible, standing in the center of the room, nearly 6 feet tall.
Her breasts were much smaller than Amanda's but still substantial, and demanded attention in profile. Her braless nipples pressed through her light cotton night-shirt. The swell of her breasts lifted the hem of her shirt, creating a slight gap over her abdomen where the shirt didn't quite hit. Below her shirt, 4-5 inches of exposed light brown skin filled the gap between her shirt and faded cotton shorts. Her shorts clung tightly to her ass, and cut off right above the break between her ass cheek and the back of her long lean legs.
Monica always dressed like this for bed, and I had seen her and Amanda in pajamas many times hanging out with them late at night on the floor below. Seeing her like this, in my room, with the remnants of a fantasy floating in the back of my head, however, left me dumbstruck. "Gary, have you found another little minx willing to take that big member you're hiding?"
"No, sorry ... no, it was Karim and Emmi. They were in here for like two hours."
She smiled and sat down on my desk, crossing her legs, laughing. "Those two are like machines. Three, four, five times in a row with no break." How did she know that? I wondered. "Must be hard to be his roommate. Come over here, Gary. We need to have a chat."
She motioned to the desk chair in front of her. I sat down and she swiveled on the desk, placing her heel on the chair between my legs, and resting the sole of her foot, topped with painted white nails, on the bulge in my pants.
"I want you to know that I had an incredible time on Friday, and I am very much looking forward to doing that again," she started, moving her foot back and forth along my expanding bulge. I nodded, and swallowed hard. "Amanda likes you a lot, and she's probably beginning to realize how much you like her. Brett's a concern, but not much of one, I imagine."
My heart was pounding in my chest. Arousal at Monica's actions, and hope from her words battled in my head. I could only croak, "ok. So what should I do?"
She smiled at me, pressing harder against my cock with her foot. "I want to keep playing with you. I want to play with this as long as you'll let me. There's a chance Amanda catches us, of course. If she does, she might not care, but she might. I think I could keep my friendship with her, but I don't know how it would work for you. There is ... uncertainty."
Monica pinched my zipper with her toes and pulled it down. In my rush to cover myself, I had forgotten to button my jeans. She rubbed the widening base of my cock with her slender toes. She slipped her big toe under my cock, and flexed her foot, popping my shaft free of me pants. It flopped back and forth, not fully erect, but pulsing as blood began to flow. Her white-tipped big toe traced the side of my shaft, and my head flared as she rubbed the ridge. "Good boy, not wearing underwear."
She pressed the ball of her foot against the base of my cock, massaging gently. She reached up to the hem of her shirt and lifted slightly, exposing the undersides of her breasts, then paused. "What do you think, my darling Gary?"
"Are you asking me to choose between sex with you now or maybe Amanda? " I whispered. "I can't ... I don't know."
"No, it's not fair to tempt you like this. Anytime you want to quit ... tomorrow, next week, next month ... I promise nothing will change, we can still be friends. There will be no more of this, of course," she said, lifting her shirt a little higher, the darker skin of her areolae peeking out from under the hem.
"Or this." She traced her big toe along the shaft of my aching cock, up to the ridge of my swollen head and back to the base. Three times she repeated the motion and I stared stupidly as her white-tipped dark toe traced its path along my long cock, veins thick with pumping blood.
"Now, yes ... I'll think more tomorrow," I mumbled and ran my hand up her silken legs. I ran my thumbs along the slight ridges of muscle definition at her calves, and traced her thighs up to her shorts.
