The truth was, Gilda didn't quite know why she was there. Standing at the door to Klein's apartment, fist raised to knock on the door, she felt almost as though she were in a dream. Not that her dreams last night had been particularly pleasant.
By all rights, she shouldn't have gone back to see him and his friends. Not the next morning, maybe not ever. Not after the night they'd had. A hundred inappropriate comments, some very presumptuous touching, and worst of all, that smell! That smell... even now she would have sworn it still clung to her nostrils. The smell of what made those men so manly, and what drove them and empowered them. The stinky musk they were so eager to share with her.
The smell of their cum.
It stung her nose, that thick, musky all-too-manly scent. How had it ended up so burned into her senses? The evening had started out so benign, with just a little porn and some fun and games. But by the end, she was quaking, soaking wet, carrying her own cum-soaked outfit and stupidly swigging from some tainted beer bottle, spiked with that same slimy, salty, disgusting semen. Even the thought, the memory of it made her gag instinctively.
But stand there she did, still hesitating at the door, still drawn back by some force she couldn't fully grasp. Maybe things could start over. Maybe the guys wouldn't think anything of last night. Wouldn't care or wouldn't remember. Wouldn't treat her any differently. Her clothes were dry and clean: a punky black tank top with flat straps stretched over her ample chest, and equally black boyshorts that nearly rode up her tight ass. Her refreshed clothes gave her some confidence, but for a brief moment she imagined awful white streaks over them, and hesitated again. The question remained: why, after all that innuendo and presumptuous male action, had she returned?
Whatever the reason, it finally wore out its welcome. She rapped on the door with her knuckles, barking out in as familiar a tone as she could muster, "Hey! Dweebs! It's me, open up!"
After a good few minutes of waiting, the door finally swung open and disgorged its content of one beautiful, blushing girl in the hallway, a real beauty in a white dress. She had the most fabulous long purple hair, the most moonlit blue eyes! She must be highest-level crust. The daughter of a millionaire or something! Seeing her stepping out of Klein's room was like an elegant princess emerging from the murk of some smelly, steaming bog. And she did it all with all the grace and elegance of a true lady, a confident smile on her face and eyelashes lowered in the most self-assured of ways.
Hold on a second... Hadn't Gilda seen this girl in the school newsletters recently? Something about a Senator visiting the College and bringing his wife and daughter with him? No wonder Klein looked like he was in such a good, good mood today!
The beauty giggled, smoothed her skirts out and then turned towards Gilda with a smile. A shirtless Klein emerged from around the corner of the doorway, leaning into this magical creature from behind, no doubt cupping a handful of her big, thick behind.
If this was already a shocker, what happened next would take Gilda's breath away.
Maybe it was just that she was still groggy and waking up, maybe she was traumatized than she'd thought, but Gilda felt like any excuse would do if she could write all of this off to her wild imagination! Klein reached up with a fingertip and prodded the girl in her cheek, causing her full-bodied lips to pout gently, then spring open like a wired trap! She dropped her jaw and opened her mouth as wide as it could go, eyes still shining with mirth as she looked down the barrel of her chops directly at Gilda. That smile had somehow shifted from radiant to sneering without skipping a beat.
The inside of her mouth was gooped beyond recognition. There might be a tongue under all that spunk somewhere, but Gilda certainly couldn't see it! If it had moved, it would've looked like some drowning whale, trying to stay afloat in a treacle-thick ocean of man-gunk!
In her tongue's place, the basin of the girl's facial fuck-pit was frothed up with bubbles, that popped just as fast as they swelled up luridly. She had sooo much fluid to blow them with, after all! A dozen fine threads and silken webs of male ejaculate were glistening wetly in that socialite's mouth, running from top to bottom, and as they snapped in half one by one, whiplashing and raining awesomely-stinky male juices onto her lips and down her chin, Gilda was reminded of the last rope holding a bridge up across a ravine, and how it would look snapping before it dropped her into the bubbling white river below.
The smell of raw squid assaulted Gilda's nose, first floating all around her head, then hitting her nostrils from every angle at all! Stinky sperm smell washed over her in unending waves as she continued to gaze into that wide-open maw. It was a treasure trove of semen! She'd been thoroughly spermed!
Satisfied that Gilda had had a look, Klein nudged the purplette in the ribs and whispered something to her. She let out a very unladylike belch, curtsied, and headed off around the corner.
Klein turned to Gilda, all smiles. "Hey there, Gilda... You look like you've just seen a ghost, heh. Or plenty of ectoplasm, anyway."
He stepped away from the door, sweeping an arm around like a damn concierge. "Why don't you come in?"
Gilda gagged involuntarily, pressing one hand to the door frame and hunching forward as if struck, taking a moment to recover herself. Her reaction was again genuine, and Klein knew for certain that she wasn't just faking disgust to deepen her dykey image. No - the girl genuinely had hang-ups about cum! And pretty severe ones, it would seem.
And yet, somehow, despite an introduction like that being piled atop all her heady, confusing concerns, the brash tomboy still eased herself past the doorway, letting Klein shut it dramatically - even ominously - behind her.
She wished she could find the words to explain herself, to justify her return after the lurid treatment she was subjected to just one night prior, but if she couldn't explain it to herself, she definitely couldn't explain it to the big-dicked playboy flaunting so eagerly in front of her. Still, it seemed some part of her just couldn't give up, couldn't be drowned out by the images of torrents of gooey, frothy semen, couldn't be choked by the nauseating, musky, primal smell, couldn't be hidden behind dripping, frosted-white facade. Though she looked a bit uncomfortable, she was still there, with him once again, and desperately wanting to believe she was still just "one of the guys" to him.
So she crashed down on the couch, sitting with all the grace of a car accident, draping her arms wide over the back rest. She had to play it cool, to act like last night made no difference, and hopefully Klein would follow suit, leaving all those uncomfortable questions unspoken, all those memories in the past, all those dreams nothing but goopy, shameful dreams...
"It's a shame Rarity had to leave so fast. You could have had a woman to wo - Well... More like a "girl to girl" chatter."
He sat down on the couch beside Gilda, faking a yawn that ended up with one of his arms around her suddenly-embarrassingly bare shoulder, fingers sinking into her soft skin. He turned into her a little bit, tightening his grip a little bit. Was there really any need to not touch her at this point? What would she do if she wanted to protest? Give his cock a big, strong punch, using her mouth to deliver the blow? "Orrrr, maybe it's more like one spunk tank to another?"
He plucked a beer from the fridge beside the couch and forced the cool, cool glass into her hands, immediately helping to soothe her nerves. "Don't worry, it hasn't been tampered with or anything. Just regular, refreshing beer, mmhm. Have a few sips, then we can pick up where we left off last night."
Gilda fidgeted in a very unconfident manner, a manner much more befitting a wilting flower than a cocky, self-made bitch like herself. Her hesitation and nervousness was visible in her body language, which she tried desperately to maintain as cool and calm. Even when Klein sat down rubbing her shoulder in an all too familiar way, even when he suggested a very inappropriate name, she only spat it back in her typical way, treating it like a friendly insult between two buddies, not some implicit suggestion of lewdness. "You're a fuckin' spunk tank," she retorted bluntly, punching Klein square in the chest with a blow of intensity usually reserved for pillow fighting. Was he awakening some vulnerability, some weakness in her? Was she pulling her punches to show good-naturedness, to try and settle things from last night? Or was she really just that shaky?
Whatever the case, Gilda seemed too distracted to pay much attention to his touch, and swiped the glass quickly from his hand. She downed it in no time, not bothering to even check, taking his word about the safety, as if she'd learned nothing from the last night. She followed it with a sour, and an audible "Blehh", as if she was rinsing out some undesirable taste that still lingered. No doubt triggered by that musky smell that passed her as a white mouthful-pool in the hallway. "And where is it exactly you think that was?" she practically belched at him, unimpressed with his suggestive leaning.
"Wellllll, maybe a browse through last night's pictures will jog both our memories," Klein insinuated with a little smile. He picked up a tablet sitting on the coffee table and slowly and steadily unlocked it, like he was taking his sweet time with everything now she was sitting on the couch beside him.
"No, no I really don't think that's necess - " the poor put-upon lesbian began to refuse, only to be quickly shut up when the first photo appeared on screen. With that, the words were stolen right from her lips, leaving room for something far more enjoyable than the sound of her talking.
One by one, he began sifting through the pictures, forcing her to relive her memories of last night. All that playing with the dildo, holding it to her puckering lips, it was all slowly coming back to her...
Photo after photo flashed before Gilda's dazed eyes. She'd been hoping to forget all about the previous night, all about the debauchery she had been goaded into, step by step. All the ways the wool had been pulled over her eyes, and worst of all, how she was made to look like some dumb cock-hungry bimbo the likes of which Klein readily nailed. Inaccurately, of course!
There she was stripping... kneeling... that dildo... the photos gave her a different look at the events of the last night, a perspective she hadn't enjoyed. What she thought was an insult of sticking her tongue out at a symbol of maleness now looked, from this angle, like she was getting ready to give that fake knob a tongue-bath!
