Sally's brother has interviews, and he crashes at her place
This story contains some group sex scenes.
I was to start graduate school in a week and I had just moved into university run housing. It was nice, cheerful housing, and I was enjoying getting all set up in my apartment, arranging the furniture and wishing the closets were bigger. The kitchen was decent and the oven looked nice, particularly important in my case because I use baking to de-stress. I give away the goodies I bake, since otherwise I would be as fat as a house. As it is, my figure is just the way I want it to be. I'm pretty scrupulous about my eating and exercise habits.
My bedroom shared a wall with the bedroom of the apartment next to me. I discovered, to my chagrin, that the wall was mighty thin and noise passed through it as a knife goes through warm butter. As I went to sleep that night, I lay awake listening to a woman next door thoroughly enjoying her sex with some stud.
I had to meet the guy who lived next door who could drive some slut to such sexual highs! He really knew, judging from the sounds, exactly how to please a girl. And boy, was the slut he had taken home noisy! That girl could really moan. And he lived right next door? What good fortune. Maybe I didn't have to stay so lonely?
I knew nobody in the entire university town, let alone a man I wanted to take home with me. The next door moaning just made me feel my loneliness more intensely. I decided I had to meet this stud. The next day when I was making brownies I decided to go next door to borrow some sugar. I changed into sexy clothes. Why not? I had plenty of sugar, but I wanted an excuse to meet the next-door stud, and first impressions can be important. I brought an empty measuring cup with me.
His slut answered the door and boy was she dressed like a slut, too, in a robe that barely covered the lady bits of her naked body under the robe.
"Hi," I said. "I'm Sally. I live next door, just moved in, and I'm baking. I wonder if your boyfriend could lend me a cup of sugar?"
"I don't have a boyfriend, Sally. I myself can lend you one, though. I'm Mary, pleased to meet you," she said.
"Oh!" I said, doubtless blushing in my embarrassment. "I thought it was a man who lives here. Pleased to meet you, too," and I took her proffered hand as we shook hands.
"I don't know why you thought that. Sexist assumptions and habits are hard to break, I guess," she said. "I did have a man over last night; maybe it confused you?"
"Yes, yes it did. My humble apologies. Lucky you, Mary. I know nobody here, least of all a man I could take home," and I giggled nervously. Mary gestured for me to come in and it did not take long for us to become friends. I returned home, and finished baking my two sets of brownies. I continued unpacking and turned on the tube, mostly for background noise.
That night not only did I hear Mary's moans again, but this time her bed was rocking, too, and her head was banging against the wall. Now I really, seriously wanted to see who this stud was who was driving Mary to nightly orgasms, so I rang her bell at 8AM the next day.
My ploy worked, and a groggy man came to the door, wearing only shorts. God, what a hunk! Mary could really choose her men. As I opened the door, I heard Mary yell, "Who is it, Marvin?"
"Goddam bitch! My name is Elliott, not Marvin. Do I LOOK like a Marvin? Christ bitch, I know we just met last night, but if you want me ever to fuck you again, learn my fucking name!"
I kind of shrank from the door, as obscenities flowed out of the bedroom and soon Mary appeared, half naked, and she threw his shoe at him, hitting him squarely in the head. His second shoe followed, as she screamed at him to leave and never come back!
I noticed Mary had great boobs, which was hard not to notice as they were uncovered and they bounced around. As Elliott (not Marvin) stormed away, Mary noticed me, and said, "Hi Debbie. Come on in. Good riddance to Marvin! No, oh wait, maybe he was right. Marvin was last week. Shit, I need some coffee. Wanna cup? We can drop together?"
"Uh, I'm Sally, but Debbie's fine, if you prefer to call me that," I said. "Yes, please, to the coffee." I liked the idea of 'dropping coffee' together.
"Sorry, Sally. I'm not good with names. Maybe you've already realized that after Marvin, or Edward, or whatever the fuck he calls himself, stormed out of here just now?"
"I brought some brownies. Want one with your coffee?" I was shrinking from the anger and contempt floating around, and tried to change the subject.
"You bet! Hey, thanks, Sally!" Subject changed. Mood changed. Yay, me!
"There's two kinds," I said. "The ones on the green plate are normal brownies. The ones on the red plate are a little kinky, and you shouldn't use heavy machinery right after eating them."
"Oooh, Sally, we're going to be great friends!" Mary said, as she took a brownie from the red plate. I certainly hoped so. I could use a friend.
Tasting one, I saw Mary's eyes get big. "You can really bake, girl!"
"Thanks," I said, shyly looking at my feet.
"Can you bake anything else even remotely this good?" Mary asked. She was clearly impressed with the brownies.
"I'm told my pound cake is out of this world," I said.
"Going to make some soon?" Mary asked. "I truly love pound cake."
"I only make it when I fall in love," I said.
Mary giggled. "Would a fuck with some handsome hunk, that blew your mind, motivate a pound cake?"
"You know, it might. It just might. I haven't had a fuck like that in a long, long time, however. A very long time," I said. "It would have to knock my socks off, you know?"
"Would you then bake the poundcake barefoot?" Mary said, still giggling.
"Shit, girl, I'd bake in the altogether, especially if the man were still there, watching!" I said.
"I want a piece of that pound cake," Mary said.
"Only after the handsome hunk gets a piece of my ass," I giggled. "Anyway, that does not seem imminent, I guess. Remember, patience is a virtue," I said.
"Yeah, that's what they always say. I say patience is for the birds. It's a ploy to get you to accept crap, always waiting for the good that comes later, and in truth may never come!" Mary said. Whoa. Now it was my turn to giggle.
"Hey, my brownies aren't crap," I said.
"Not the point. Now that you mention it, though, what else have you got in that sweet little mind that doubles as a cookbook?" Mary asked.
"Would an apple crumble keep you going until some stud lays me and knocks my socks off?" I asked.
Mary licked her lips in reply. "Chocolate chip cookies on the menu?"
"How banal. But sure. I put just a touch of candied ginger in them. You're gonna love 'em," I said.
"Can I lick the bowl?" Mary asked.
"Sorry, girl. Only people who fuck me first get to lick the bowl, and my brother too, who is grandfather in from our childhood," I said.
"I'll buy a dildo, to lick one of your bowls," she said.
"You do that, girl. Be prepared to lick me as well if you go down that road," I said. Mary smiled, and her eyes twinkled.
Mary and I got in the habit of checking in with each other on a daily basis, but only on weekdays. The weekends Mary went out to cruise the bar scene and always brought a man home with her. I got to/had to listen to the sex when I went to bed. I never mentioned it to Mary. It was every single bleeping Friday night, come hell or high water.
I knew there was something wrong with Mary, probably some trauma buried in her past, that required her to get seriously drunk and to fuck essentially random men on Friday nights. Was it an old but never forgotten rape? Was it some molestation by a priest, a friend of the family, her father? Maybe it was "only" a date rape? That had happened to me and half the girls I knew. Some girls it really destroyed. Others shrugged it off. Most were in between.
I also knew it was none of my business. Finally, I also knew that being a Comparative Literature student meant that my mind was full of such nonsense, and in reality, I actually "knew" nothing at all. It would make a good story, but that's all it was.
I bought headphones, but found to my chagrin I somewhat masochistically and voyeuristically preferred to listen to Mary's moans of sexual ecstasy than to listen to my playlists, even my better playlists.
The time came when Mary asked if I wanted to join her at the bar scene. It was December and I was caught up in my work, and my sex life was solidly and hopelessly in its winter hibernation mode, having just endured its fall hibernation mode. Before that was my summer hibernation mode despite a one-night stand when I wore a bikini to the beach. Actually it was more of an afternoon stand in a remote corner of the beach, hee,hee.
It had been both nerve wracking and hopelessly sexy to let a guy get me naked and have his way with me on the beach, potentially fully exposed to any passerby. I think the guy, whom I had only met hours earlier, was just as nervous; maybe more so? Women are perhaps more accustomed to displaying their bodies than are men. For men, it's all about their cocks, and this guy's cock, which did the job nicely, was nevertheless small. My guess is that he wanted to fuck me all right, but he didn't want anyone else to see his tiny cock. It was too bad, because I could have used a nice, naked cuddle afterwards, and then maybe a round two, you know? He just ran away, without even bothering to get my coordinates. Still, I find the memory wonderful, and it is a staple of my masturbation fantasies.
My fantasy is that right after he dresses and runs away, while I'm still lying there in my typical post orgasmic partial coma, another man comes strolling along the beach, looking for shells, and finds me instead, a recently ravaged, naked and sexy woman, still with a slight sex flush about my inviting body. He sits down next to me, we talk for a while, and then nature takes it course and my reward is my much desired "round two." He becomes my lover for the rest of the summer. Hey, it's my fantasy! Why not?
