The characters who are sexually active in this story are college juniors, so 21--22 years old. The younger person mentioned is 18 years old.
Giovan desired his sister, but she didn't desire him. The cumbersome equipment he carried between his legs had not gone unnoticed by Giselle. And while she may have been a little curious about it, the idea of having sex with him was alien to her. He knew this, or rather he feared it. He also knew--he was absolutely convinced--that if he could just get his big prick into her hot little snatch she would become his for life.
Gisella--perversely, in his view--had eyes only for his roommate, his gay roommate, Jeff, who only encouraged this infatuation by flirting with her every time she visited their room. Jeff had asked Giovan not to tell her he was gay because he didn't want Gisella to "go fag-hag" on him. Whatever that meant.
Jeff, on the other hand, had cultivated a bit of a crush on him, one that had intensified a few weeks before when Jeff came home one afternoon in time to see Giovan just finish masturbating to a picture of Gisella.
Jeff started, stared, then said, "Please tell me that's a picture of me."
Giovan sat back on his heels, his cock arcing up between his thighs, slowly going soft after his orgasm. He was not shy about his dick; no, he was rather proud of it. He had every right to be. It was long, thick, and veiny--just like the ones in the porn stories. And his balls: they were big, they were hairy, and they hung low in their sac. Were they as big as lemons? Of course not. No one has balls that big. Don't be stupid. The cum on his chest was sliming its way down his abdomen.
Giovan wore his slightly sneering grin. "Sorry, loverboy. Not this time." He held his cock near the base with one hand and squeezed the head with the other hand, eking out a final dribble of white jism. He wiped it up and smeared it into the hair on his chest. His gleaming prick (coconut oil) quietly settled down between his thighs and Jeff finally looked at Giovan's face.
"Jesus," he opined.
A smirk tweaked at Giovan's mouth now. "You wanna suck me off sometime?"
Jeff's expression opened up for a moment and his mouth opened slightly, but then, just as quickly, his eyes hardened and his mouth became a firm line. He turned away to put down his bookbag. "Don't be such a fucking asshole."
Giovan's smirk disappeared. "Sorry, Jeff. I was just teasing." After a moment he added, "do you want to lick the cum off me?"
He just barely ducked the book Jeff hurled at him.
* * *
It was a clear spring day on the quadrangle lawn. The sun was gentle, the breezes mild, and the pleasant noise of young people talking and playing catch or frisbee completed the scene. Giovan reclined with a textbook, but his mind was running through a fantasy in which his sister was desperately sucking on his knob...because...because...because she had become a "cumpire", and Giovan was letting her get sustenance from him because he was a good and noble brother. Oh, and he had just killed Count Jizzula, the cumpire who had transformed Gisella into the ejaculivorous beast she now was.
Or maybe, he thought, maybe it was a "Nosferwadtu." hmmm...
She was sucking fiendishly hard now. Giovan sat up to adjust his dick surreptitiously: it had been pointed downward when he had started his fantasy, now it was straining painfully against the unforgiving fabric of his jeans.
"Hi."
"Whaa!"
The girl blinked at Giovan's startled cry. "Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you. You must have been really zoned out."
"Uh, yeah. Kinda."
The girl smiled at him but also to herself. She had seen what he had been trying to do. She had brothers, she recognized the "adjustment" when she saw it. She was also keenly aware of the prominence of what he had been trying to adjust in his jeans. She arched an eyebrow in contemplation.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said, "but one of my friends over there," she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, "has this idea about you. I don't really agree with him. Long story short: can you settle a bet for us?"
Giovan frowned. "A bet?"
"Yeah. See, the thing is my friend, Eric, over there, he thinks--"
"Who?"
"Eric. Over there."
Giovan looked past her leg at a guy and a girl sitting on the lawn a few yards away. The girl was dull-eyed and sort of caved in on herself, but the guy had an alert and pretty face.
..."pretty"? Where did that come from?
The girl in front of him began talking again. Giovan was only aware of her bare legs in front of him, of her tight cut-off jeans, of how they drew the eye to the juncture of her inner thighs, of a slender body with jutting breasts, and a fine, narrow oval face framed by glossy dark brown hair.
"So are you?"
Giovan tried to piece together what he hadn't been paying attention to....and, nope, not a fucking clue.
"Am I what?"
The girl grinned. Giovan thought it was a lovely grin. She, in turn, had been looking him over and liked what she saw. He had a lean athletic figure, curly locks of flaxen hair, a handsome face, and large graceful hands.
"I asked if you're gay."
"--oh."
"Because Eric over thinks--he hopes--that maybe you are."
"Oh, well, I'm afraid he's out of luck."
She grinned again, but now a different light was in her eye.
"Good."
Giovan cocked an eyebrow of his own. "Good?"
Her grin drew into a moué as she continued to look him over. She didn't answer him. She looked over her shoulder and yelled, "I was right! You guys owe me a beer!"
Turning back to him she thrust out a hand. "Eve."
He took the hand. "Giovan."
Eve paused and her eyebrows twitched together for a moment. "Like the night musk?"
Giovan sighed. "No, that's Jovan, with a j; mine's spelled like 'Giovanni' without the ending."
"How'd you get that name?" Eve sat down in front of him, folding one smooth leg under her butt and drawing the other up to her chest. To Giovan's eyes, she might just as well have sat down and pointed at her crotch with an arrow on a stick.
"My mom's family's Italian and my dad's is German, so it's kind of a compromise between Johann and Giovanni."
"Oh, that's kinda cool."
"I guess, but it leads to a lot of explaining. But you can call me 'Gio'. It's spelled G-I-O but pronounced like 'Joe'...which is natural, of course, since it's Italian orthography."
"Umm, okay."
"Sorry, linguistics is one of my avocations."
"I'm not a hundred percent sure what 'avocation' means, but 'linguist' caught my attention."
Giovan chuckled. They looked at each other silently for a few moments. Giovan knew what he was thinking, and he knew--he didn't know how he knew, but he was certain of what he knew in a way that he had never known before--that Eve was thinking the same thing. This new sensation of surety gave him the courage to ask, "do you want to come up to my room?"
* * *
Once they were through the door there was a vigorous, breathless competition between them to get the other one's clothes off first.
Eve halted the proceedings to lay down some ground rules: "I'm not into the boyfriend/girlfriend thing. Don't come fawning after me later. Right?"
"Sure. Should I call you 'mistress' too, ma'am?"
Eve looked off past him and seemed to consider this, then she refocused on him and smiled. With her hands on his shoulders she looked over his chest and abdomen. Giovan was muscular but not bulky; he had a lean, lanky build with broad shoulders. Fine dark hair covered his chest and ran down the middle of his stomach in a narrow line. Eve ran her hands over his chest and along his ribs. With a finger she traced his happy trail downward. He flinched slightly when she got below his navel.
Giovan watched her examine him. Eve was enjoying his shape, the warmth and smoothness of his flesh, the fine tone of his muscles underneath. He kept moving his hands over her back, along her neck to her ears and down again to her shoulders and arms. Her skin was smooth and clear with an olive tone that suggested a Mediterranean heritage.
He reached a hand around her waist and pulled her toward him. Full lips meeting fuller lips, mouths parted a little, they got their first taste of one another in a long exploratory kiss.
Eve slid her hands down Giovan's smooth back and snuck her fingers into the beltline of his jeans and began stroking the upper curve of his buttocks. Fine peach fuzz covered his pert ass. As she strained to get her hands further in, Eve felt Giovan's big hands around the outsides of her breasts. He took firm hold and started to rub her nipples against his own hard ones and the hair on his chest. She sucked in a breath as hers stiffened in response.
She reached a hand around the front and undid his fly, resisting the urge to feel the prick now clearly stretching the fabric because she wanted to watch it pop out as she got his pants and underwear down. She waited, though, to prolong the discomfort of a trapped erection, and she moved her hand back to join the other in kneading his nice butt.
Giovan's hands were sweeping over her tits even as he continued to rub them against his chest. Every brush of his thumbs over her nipples sent a thrill through her, and she pushed her pelvis into his rhythm with his breastplay. His mouth left hers and started wandering across her cheek and along her jawline then under the chin. She tilted her head back to let him kiss and lick along her neck and back up along the jaw. As his tongue darted in and out of her ear, pulling little mewls from her throat, she reached in between their grinding hips and worked to finish undoing his fly. Giovan's jeans started sagging away from his hips and Eve got her first full grip on his ass cheeks. She dug in fingers and twisted her head to force his mouth off her neck, then latched her own onto his ear.
His breathing was deep and soughing. Eve's hands and tongue were skilful. And her breasts--oh, such beautiful, firm tits she had--were so warm and soft against his chest.
