ONE
I met Diana my last year in college. Through coincidence, or fate, we were dorm mates. However, we didn't live in a normal college dorm. I had, after three years of moaning, finally convinced my dad to rent me an apartment close to campus. My dad didn't think it was safe for me to live off campus, so he had two nonsensical stipulations. One was I had to get a roommate. The other, it could never, ever be a boy. By all measures I was considered an adult, but you know how it is. I will always be daddy's little girl, even at 60 years old.
I really didn't want a roommate. I would have rather lived alone because you never know what type of person you're going to end up with. They may seem great when you interview them, but you never actually get to know a person until you live with them. It seemed to me the best way to stay happy was to simply live alone.
I tried my best to pretend to look for a roommate. Whenever my dad would call, I would tell him I hadn't found a decent person. He would say okay and hang up. Little did I know my dad had decided to place an ad himself. Further, he took it upon himself to conduct phone interviews.
One morning, as I was leaving for class, I crashed into Diana. When I say crashed, I literally mean crashed. I was late and had my head down as I was racing out the door. I never saw Diana standing in front of me. I don't recall hurting her. I only remember knocking her down with my hard head.
I couldn't help but laugh once I found out my dad not only interviewed Diana, but gave her the thumbs up. Diana couldn't believe it either. She originally thought the ad - "Proper Girl Seeks Proper Roommate" - was a joke. Thus, she never answered my dad truthfully. Diana pretended to be a librarian's assistant. Every answer she gave was prudish in nature. It wasn't until my dad gave Diana my address that she realized the ad was serious.
I suppose I should have been angry, but I loved it. If only my dad could see who he had chosen. Diana was far from a librarian's assistant. Hell, she looked like she didn't even know what a library was. Diana had short, dark hair with blue streaks. Her hair color, along with her dark lipstick, brought out her fair skin. She looked like a porcelain doll in torn jeans. Her t-shirt was at least a size too small, although I could understand why. Diana had the most beautiful breasts I have ever seen. While not huge, they were the perfect size for massaging. Diana wasn't wearing a bra. Her strong nipples poked through the cotton, ready to explode out of her shirt. I never considered myself bisexual, but god I wanted to suck on them.
Diana looked down at her shirt. She ran her fingers over her nipples, exciting them even more. "Do you want to see them?"
YES! However, I was extremely late for class. It was probably foolish of me to trust Diana with the keys, but I was in love. Or was it lust? In any event, I gave them to her.
I don't know why I even bothered to go to class. I wasted the whole hour thinking about Diana. God, I wanted to massage her breasts through the cloth of her shirt. My imagination was running wild, I could feel the rigidness of her nipples against her soft flesh as I flicked them with my fingers. I would turn her around to face me, and slide my hands inside her shirt. As I cupped her mounds, I could feel them molding into my hands. Her nipples, ever so hard, fit perfectly between my index and middle fingers.
I couldn't stand it. I had to maneuver in my seat to keep myself from orgasm. I was so wet I knew I had to do something. But what? Deep down, I knew what the answer was. Still, I was terrified.
I didn't go to my next class out of fear my mind would wander to the point of no return. Instead, I let my mind do its thing in a secluded area of a campus park. I wanted to go home, but at the same time, I was afraid to. Sure, Diana had offered to show them to me.
That's right! She did!
BUT, and that's with all capitals, what if she was joking? What if she never intended to lift her shirt up? What if? Ugh, I've always hated the fact that I over analyze everything.
After much debate, and the fact that night was approaching, I decided to head home, and, see what would happen. I intended to play it cool, pretend like nothing happened, and see what would transpire. My pounding heart, however, had plans of his own.
As I approached the front door, I noticed the apartment seemed dark. Wonderful! I spent half a day avoiding someone who wasn't even home! I was so bummed out, it never dawned on me that my apartment could be empty. I opened the front door and went inside.
The apartment was dark and silent. It finally hit me that it was possible I had been robbed. I wasn't mad since I only had myself to blame. As I approached the kitchen, I noticed a faint, almost gagging moan coming from the spare bedroom.
My heart sank. Diana's been shot and is bleeding to death.
I really didn't want to see Diana dying, but I knew I had to help. I tiptoed towards the slightly opened door. I kept my keys in my hand, ready to defend myself. My heart raced as I got closer. A million images of what I might find ran through my mind. Still, I was not prepared for what I would see.
Diana was naked and on all fours. A bald, naked man was behind her, gripping her hips and pounding her at an insane pace. Diana's moans were muffled as she had a blonde man's pipe in her mouth. Diana sucked as best she could but the sheer size of it was giving her trouble.
