Oliver was bored. He rarely ever went to college parties but was pressured to come out tonight by his friends.
"Come on," they said. "It's the last weekend of college. Do you really want to spend it sitting inside doing nothing?"
Oliver muttered a small yes but it was not loud enough for them to hear. "I guess not. I'll come with you guys. As long as you promise not to run off and leave me alone."
His friends were scattered around the party talking to everyone but him. He was left alone.
Oliver sighed, fantasizing about the unopened box of Cheez-Its he left next to his computer monitor. He checked his watch: 9:30.
He figured the alcohol would help. He chugged the last of his vodka soda, searching for another when he was stopped by a girl he only slightly knew.
She watched as her red lips moved to speak. "Hey, Ollie, right?" Ollie. No one ever called him that. He hated it.
"It's Oliver, yeah."
He meant to ask her name, but was interrupted. "I think you're in my Econ class?"
Oliver finally got the courage to look her in the eyes. They were a deep blue, the kind of blue that put whoever lay eyes with her in a trance. Her hair made it worse; it was blonde and wavy, and Oliver couldn't help but want to touch it. It looked soft. Comfortable.
"Uh, yeah. I think so. Professor Foster?"
"Yeah! God, what a boring professor..."
Oliver took a glance at her tits but quickly caught himself. She noticed him and seemed to laugh under her breath, turning his face into a light shade of red. Even worse, he could feel a growing bulge in his pants. He cursed at himself under his breath:
why am I so fucking needy?
She noticed his discomfort. Even amongst all the people, he felt fully on display to her, like he couldn't hide the bulge in his pants and his growing neediness.
Her honeyed voice broke his thinking. "Are you a virgin?"
He was. "W-what?"
"That's what I thought," she laughed.
He felt humiliated and fixated his gaze on the empty cup in his hands. How could she tell that he was a virgin?
She smiled and nudged him. "Your cup looks empty. You should get another drink."
Without question, he did what she said. Oliver, now even more nervous than before, decided to take a few shots. He came back with another full vodka soda.
"Good boy," she giggled, looking at his cup.
Oliver felt his bulge press harder against his jeans and shifted. He was taken aback by her confidence. "W-what did you say?"
He couldn't help his stuttering.
She touched his hand playfully, causing him to shiver. "So you're a virgin, huh? That's cute, Ollie".
Ollie.
She spoke before he could think of a response. "It's like you're fragile, like a single touch could make you cum." She locked eyes with him and smiled, playfully grabbing his cock through his jeans. Oliver almost spilled his already half-empty drink. There was no way to hide it now: his cock was hard.
Oliver backed away from her. "What the fuck? Can you please stop?"
"You really want me to stop?"
"Yes!"
"Your hard on tells me differently" she looked at his cock and laughed. "I think your body wants me."
She leaned closer. "No, I think your body
needs
me."
He was practically shaking when she grabbed his arm and led him into one of the fraternity's bedrooms. She closed the door, but didn't lock it.
He felt the alcohol flush his face and dizzy his head, causing him to sway. That's when he had the realization: she wasn't drunk at all. She was in full control of herself and, even worse, she was in full control of him.
"Take off your clothes for mommy."
He did what she said. He didn't know if it was the needy cock pressing against his jeans or the alcohol clouding his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to disobey her wishes.
As he pulled off his boxers, his cock sprang up towards her. She giggled.
"You needy little slut!" She bent down to observe. "You're already dripping with pre-cum. Do you really want to fuck me that badly?"
