He took off his shirt and flung it onto Adie’s bed. And then his wife beater. He began to unzip his fly, revealing his thatch of pubic hair – he rarely wore underwear – when Adie seized his arm and pulled him into the bathroom.
“Not out there,” she said. Her face was red.
Brian grinned. Before he shut the bathroom door, he espied Goldie’s baleful and extremely envious face.
Inside the cramped bathroom, he pushed Adie against the wall and roughly kissed her. She gasped at his ardor. He fumbled for her zipper and started to pull off her clothes – her dress, her brassiere (which caught at her elbows) and her slip of sensible panties. She clawed at his hair, his face. She was so hungry for him.
Finally, their clothes were in a heap upon the bathroom tiles. He cornered her against one wall – all fire and manly purpose – the way he thought she might like it. He was channeling a Harlequin romance. He left love bites on her neck, and when she didn’t protest, he rained them on her small br**sts, and belly . . . and down, down, down the trail to her pubes.
He knelt before her and tongued her pu**y. He could tell that she never had a guy go down on her before, the way she reacted – all moans and shuddering excitement and intensity. He made a good job out of it. He found a spot on her clit that made her literally go weak-kneed, and he tongued it until she writhed spasmodically.
She cried out again and again, and he grinned when he pictured the look on Goldie’s face on the other side of the door.
Later, he stood up again.
“I’m gonna f**k you,” he whispered, “right against the wall.”
She clutched at him, frightened.
“I’ve never done this before,” she confessed.
A virgin. Of course. He had taken quite a few on this campus. He was always ready to be the great debaucher.
“Don’t worry. There’s a first for everything,” he said. “Just relax.”
He bent down to retrieve a condom from his jeans pocket. He always had a few handy. He ripped the foil with his teeth and handed the condom to her.
“Go on,” he said, “put it on me.”
She trembled as she took it from him. “I don’t know how.”
He took pity on her.
“Look,” he said, demonstrating, “you roll it on like this.”
His c**k glistened with the tight rubber. In a way, he felt like Henry Higgins, showing Eliza Doolittle the ropes. She stared at it, fascinated.
“It’s so huge,” she said, and he caught the fear in her voice.
“You’ll get used to it.” He was being unusually patient. “Don’t worry . . . I’ll take it slow.”
He pressed her against the wall.
“It’s cold,” she said, laughing nervously.
“I’ll heat you up,” he suggested, smiling. He took hold of her hips with his strong hands. “Now put your legs around me. Like this.”
She followed his lead and wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Don’t worry,” he said, sensing her discomfiture, “I won’t let you fall. I’ve got you.”
His c**k strained at her really tight opening, and she squeezed his neck with her arms – afraid of gravity, afraid of his size. Without letting her pause to think too much, he pushed in. She cried out. He stopped, letting her get used to his penis inside her, and then pushed in again. Inch by inch, he speared her until he was all the way through. It was a nice fit – this little snug canal, holding him tightly, pressurizing his hard flesh from all sides.
He allowed the pleasure to seep into him. This was why he loved sex so much – the tight clenching of muscles around his dick, the feel of hot limbs entwined around his body, someone else’s need spreading by osmosis to his flesh.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whimpered.
He began to move, thrusting himself in and out of her with slow, measured strokes, using the wall as leverage.
“It hurts,” she said.
“It’ll get better. It’s just your first time, that’s all.”
He felt her wet tears upon his shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said.
He had nothing to say to that. So he kept on pistoning in and out of her like a well-oiled tool. He didn’t think she would have an orgasm from sheer f**king – not the first time, in his experience. Besides, he had already given her plenty of orgasms when he got down on her. Her first orgasms ever given to her by a man.
In, out, in, out – it was a rhythm he was so practiced in. It didn’t matter who the recipient was. One pu**y was the same as another. He didn’t believe in feelings and emotions and all that crock of shit that came with relationships, so it was the sensations that he concentrated upon. The goal of slow orgasm. Making himself ride out each one longer, like an engine breaking itself in and learning precision as it went along.
He reached his climax with a single gasp. Convulsions rattled his entire body. He felt her slowly sinking onto the floor, and he let her feet tread the tiles before he released her. She clung on to his neck, panting and all sweaty.
“Thank you,” she said again.
“It will be better next time.”
“No, it was wonderful,” she avowed.
He glanced at her face to see if she was kidding, and she was not. She was gazing at him with an expression in her glistening eyes. An expression he had come to recognize and dread.
Oh no. Not again.
But he had promised Warwick, and besides, he was never one to renege on a bet.
So, instead of instantly cutting off the cord with a sharpened scissors, he swallowed the sudden lump that came to his throat and growled, “Wait till next time.”
*
There was a next time.
It came later that night.
He did it to spite Goldie, who didn’t pick up the phone and run after Warwick to prove her point – and why would she? Brian had tried to argue through Warwick’s frat boy logic, since women practically never did what you wanted them to do . . . for most guys other than him, that was.
So Brian stayed the night. He stayed the night in Adie’s bed, right across the room from Goldie. And they weren’t exactly sleeping either, the three of them.
“Would you please keep it down?” Goldie fumed, making a show about tucking the pillow around her ears. Brian noticed that she hadn’t exactly closed her eyes.
Both he and Adie were covered by her blanket, but he was totally naked. Adie wore her pajamas, and he had already wriggled her bottom off and was in the midst of Round Two f**king.