Author's Note: Just want to say thanks for all the comments on my last story, glad so many people enjoyed it! Hope this one is just as enjoyable.
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I heard them giggling and whispering under the sheets, trying and failing to keep their voices down. She was teasing Dillon again, getting him worked up for no good reason other than to send him home frustrated. I wasn't exactly sure what they said under the sheets; their voices were muffled. But a glance informed me that Keira was in her usual position: lying on top of Dillon, straddling his crotch, and seeming to rock and back forth on it while whispering what I can only imagine to be dirty talk into his ear.
I turned away from their little tryst, and tried to get back to studying. The poor bastard. It was difficult to ignore what she was doing to Dillon; our dorm was the size of a luxury prison cell, and our beds were probably barely more than ten feet apart. I was trying to read a book on physics - I desperately wanted to keep up my A average. I tried to remind myself of my goal of being a head researcher at John Hopkins one day. But my attention kept slipping back to Keira's steady grinding, and Dillon's squirming.
Any minute, she'd say, loud enough for me to hear, "Ok, that's enough. Let's stop before we lose control." And that would be it.
Dillon would frantically whisper, "No, no, come on!" But Keira would get off of him no matter what. Dillon would try to coax her. Nope. He would get angry. Nothing. Then, inevitably, trying to keep his voice really low so I wouldn't hear it, he'd beg. And Keira would always giggle and say, "No! Not while Clara is in the room."
I think for her, that was the whole point of this exercise. Making Dillon, the football jock star, beg her for nothing more than to keep grinding on his dick. Not sex. Not a blowjob. Not even a handy. Just dry-humping.
And every time, deflated, frustrated, and with a wet patch on the crotch of his jeans (her wetness? his precum?) Dillon would leave the dorm, taking care to slam the door on his way out. This had been going on at least three or four times a week since Keira and I had moved in four weeks ago at the start of term.
I knew college was going to be a hotbed of lust and parties and experimentation. But I didn't expect to have a roommate so experienced in sexual manipulation. She teased Dillon incessantly, in careful smart ways like a predator breaking down her prey.
She bragged about sexting him after she sent him home blue-balled, telling him how much she wished he would fuck her brains out. She sent racy pics, deviously clever ones that only showed the barest hint up her skirt, maybe a little cleavage, never the whole thing. Keira was curvy, tanned skin - Hispanic I think, though I never asked. She knew how to use her body well, and Dillon was utterly crazy about her after only a month of dating. Despite what I thought of Keira torturing Dillon, I had to admire her tactics. I couldn't say I had the same control over my boyfriend.
I thought I was pretty sexually experienced by that point in my life. Like many eighteen year olds, I thought that my long term relationship from high school had shown me all the wonders sex had to offer. His name was Tom, and we were very much in love despite being separated by three thousand miles. He was going to school in Columbia, while I was at USC. We had sex, both of us for the first time, when we were seventeen. And of course it started off painful and disappointing, but it gradually evolved into passionate love-making (at least, that's what we called it) and a little experimenting. By the end of a year, I thought I had my body and sexuality all figured out.
Tom and I texted each other throughout the day, and had Skype sessions three times a week. I tried to make them sexy; I'd talk to him fresh out of the shower wearing only a towel, or I'd flash him a quick peek at my tits or panties. But I could sense a growing lack of enthusiasm from him. Tom was athletic, very cute and, worst of all, smart and competitive. He was pre-Med and played rugby. I wasn't the jealous type, but the thoughts entered my head without much prompting. He's seeing someone else, he just doesn't want to hurt your feelings by dumping you, etc.
I didn't have low self-esteem until this long distance relationship. I liked my features; I had chestnut brown hair, I kept myself well in shape, and I think I have a pretty face. Well, maybe a sharp nose. And maybe my eyes were pretty dull. And maybe my face wasn't pretty at all, it was generic and forgettable. Ugly thoughts tumbled into my head uninvited.
But the truth was, as much as I worried over some pretty slut throwing herself at Tom during a party or something, what really made me feel so insecure was my total lack of control over Tom. He had always been in charge. He could make any demand he wanted. I liked pleasing him, and thought that if I continued to do it, he'd never look at anyone else. Instead, I discovered that that had made me boring, and too available. I didn't bring any of this up with Tom; he was stressing over his tough classes and the last thing I wanted was to burden him with my petty jealousy.
But inwardly, I wished I could control his fantasies the way Keira controlled Dillon's.
Speaking of control, Dillon was beginning to grunt. She had let this week's session go a little longer than usual. Again, I looked away from my physics book. She was grinding on him hard fast, whispering a steady stream of dirty talk I couldn't make out. His hands were all over her ass.
I hadn't paid too close attention to their previous interactions. Usually, I put in my headphones, and busied myself with studying. But this prolonged session sparked my curiosity. She seemed to be inviting him to go further and further. I was trying to tell myself I was only curious to learn about her tactics, but inwardly, I wondered how far she would take this.
I saw the figure that was Keira move up Dillon's body, until her chest was level with his head. There was a rustling sound from under the covers.
"Suck it," I heard Keira whisper, more clearly than ever before.
I stifled a gasp as I heard a soft sucking noise. Dillon was sucking her nipple! She had never gone this far before, at least not with me in the room. The thought gave me a thrill somewhere in my stomach. Again, I told myself this was purely for research purposes - something I could use on Tom later. But I didn't realize I was holding my breath, my physics book totally forgotten, my full attention on my roommate and her boyfriend.
"Oh yeah, suck it hard," Keira whispered. "Bite it."
My eyes widened. So this was the dirty talk she was usually whispering out of earshot? She sounded really turned on, her breath coming out in gasps, but what she said next made it clear she was in total control.
"Oh that's a good boy. Bite that nipple. Suck it raw."
I could hear Dillon's breath getting quicker and heavier, too. She was driving him crazy, just by getting him to pleasure her. She kept calling him a good boy, while he loudly sucked her nipple, like he was a puppy. She was grinding on him harder than ever.
Then, suddenly, she shoved him down. "You want a reward?" she asked, still out of breath.
I could tell Dillon was nodding furiously under the sheets.
Keira slid further down his body, until her head was at his crotch. There was metal clink as his belt was undone, and the unmistakable noise of a zipper being pulled down. My heart skipped a beat. She wasn't going to - not in front of me. Was she?
"Is this what you want me to play with?" she asked in a teasing voice. I couldn't see what she was doing under the covers, but I could guess she had pulled his dick out.
"Yes," Dillon gasped. His hands went to her head.
"Keep your hands down," she ordered. Dillon's hands snapped back to his sides.
Then - kissing noises. Very light kissing. My eyes widened. She was kissing his dick! From the slight movements of her head, she seemed to be kissing it all over, in no particular hurry.
It was time to be honest with myself. This was really turning me on. I could feel myself getting wet, just listening to Keira tease him. There was the naughty element of voyeurism, though I felt a twinge of guilt as I wondered if this bordered on being unfaithful. Would I be ok with Tom listening to someone like this? The thought didn't stay too long in my head before I rationalized that I wasn't doing anything wrong, I was only listening. This is what I told myself as I found myself wondering just how big Dillon was.
I could tell she was slowly stroking him, while kissing his shaft up and down. I could also tell by the sound that her lips were barely touching his dick. But Dillon was groaning loudly now, and starting to thrust his hips.
Keira giggled softly. "This big dick looks ready to burst, doesn't it?" She went back to kissing it.
She was painting pictures in my head, and it was driving me crazy. I sighed, and let my hand wander down my shirt. It was late, and I was ready for bed, so I wasn't wearing a bra. I let my fingers drift in between my breasts, watching my nipples stiffen under my shirt without even touching them.
