Sam walked the girls back to their dorm. He and Marjie chatted cheerfully as they passed along the quiet darkened streets, but Becky was still too full of love and life to do more than mutter an absent minded reply to questions or comments directed to her. Her mouth had nothing to say in the aftermath of what her cunt and Sam's cock had conversed about so thrillingly.
Afterwards in the privacy of their room, she was still walking on air. She undressed for bed, stripping off the clothes she had worn to the party and, clad only in her own blonde hair, lay down upon her sheet. Her heart was singing and her brain was so excited she knew she'd never get to sleep tonight.
"Hey, kid," Marjie was saying at her ear. Becky turned startled eyes to her roommate, looking like one suddenly awakened from a nocturnal ramble.
"Gods, Beck," Marjie went on. "You really did it tonight! I'm proud of you, kid." Becky smiled shyly in response. Marjie slipped out of her dress and panties and lay on her own bed, facing Becky.
"I feel beautiful and sexy and-I just feel like somebody set off dynamite in my heart!" Becky sighed.
"You've got a right to," Marjie observed. "Are you still afraid of guys? Did Sam make up for what that bastard did to you? What was his name, anyway? I forget."
"Whose name?" Becky said.
"The guy who busted you."
"I don't remember," Becky replied dreamily. "I don't care."
"You gonna do it again?" Marjie smiled.
"I don't want to do anything else," Becky gushed. "I want to have a-a cock inside me every day for the rest of my life. All day long, all night long,"
"Got a nine o'clock class tomorrow?"
"No. Why?"
"Cause we're gonna take your ass over to the university clinic and get you on the Pill. If you're planning on doing that much fucking, you'd better make sure you don't get yourself pregnant, with a capital P."
Becky's first week of school passed with little Incident. She had to forego her initial wish for a fuck a day, principally because she didn't really want that. It was just a spontaneous reaction to the beauty of her first real screwing. Besides, she wanted to make sure that she didn't let her grades slip. She'd been a A student in high school and she knew she could do pretty well in college, so the rest of the week saw her in her room every night studying. Sometimes she would be sitting at her desk poring over a textbook, her panties round her pretty ankles, a finger poking in and out of her cunt. And as she read her lessons, the tides of lust would suddenly overwhelm her and she would go into orgasm, wet and sopping. But each time that finger slid up and down her luscious vaginal path she would think about the pleasures that would be hers when next a man's cock penetrated her and filled her with hot viscous juices.
Friday evening she could no longer endure the celibacy she had imposed upon herself. Becky hunted through the campus directory until she found Sam's name, circled his phone number, and rang him up on the telephone in the girls' room.
"Hi," she said when she had him. "This Is Becky."
"Hi, Becky," he replied, his voice sounding a little, rushed, a little breathless.
"I just wondered," she went on, "if you would like to get together tonight. I could come over, or you could come here-"
"Shit," he said. "I'm really sorry, Bock, but I can't. See, the old lady and I are kinda-"
"The old lady?" she interrupted. "You mean your mom?"
"No," he explained. "My old lady. My girl." Her heart sank to the soles of her feet. All week long she had fantasized that her burrowing finger was his raging cock as it probed into her pussy. Now what was he telling her?
"You met her at the party," he added. "Cathy. You know. The cute chick that was smoking with us."
"Cathy?" she said hollowly. "I thought she was Bill's friend."
"No," he said jovially, "she's my girl. We've been together for a couple of years, and once she graduates from high school she's gonna move in with me. Oh," he said suddenly, "I know what got you confused. She went upstairs with Bill. Right? Well, we don't have any chains on each other, see. She wanted to do Bill that night, and I wanted to make it with you. So we did."
"I see," Becky replied.
"Yeah," Sam rejoined. "Well, I gotta go, Beck. Cathy's upstairs in the sack-you know. Say, why don't you and Marjie come over next week. Jerry is gonna score on some really righteous hash, and we can all get stoned."
"Sure," Becky said flat-voiced. "We'll have to do that. See you." And she hung up the phone.
She felt anger, disappointment, rage. It was as though she had been betrayed. Sam had fucked her so very nicely Monday night, and all the while he had been going steady with Cathy, that little bitch with the big tits and the dirty mouth. And to make matters worse, Sam and Cathy weren't oven true to each other! Becky wished she could eject his semen from her cunt right now, drip it onto the floor, grind ft under her heel. She turned round bitterly, fist striking at her thigh.
Plopping down upon her bed, she rested her chin on her palms. She had so counted on fucking Sam again tonight. And he had rejected her, as if she were a dried up syphilitic whore!
Well, the hell with him! she thought suddenly, and then she said ft aloud. "The hell with him!" And fuck him, too. she thought. I don't need him.
But the prospect of staying here alone in the room tonight was too depressing even to contemplate. Margie had gone home this weekend, and she felt even more deserted. At least the two girls could have talked, and Marjie could have commiserated with Becky over her latest betrayal. Was there something about her, she wondered suddenly, that caused men to want to shit all over her? It certainly seemed to be the case.
She could always go sit in the lobby of the dorm and watch girls being picked up by their dates. She might have had a date herself tonight, if she hadn't been counting on another balling from Sam. A guy in her English class had seemed rather interested in her, but she had steered the subject away from "What are you doing Friday night?" because she had other plans. Now, she thought bitterly, she didn't even know the gay's name and she wouldn't see him again till Tuesday morning when class met again.
Becky crawled off the bed and walked into the hail. She bent her head to get a drink at the water fountain, took an extra swallow because it was at least something to do. Then she looked up and down the hail, saw nobody, nothing. She grimaced wryly and began to pace. It wasn't as small as the room but it was just as lonely. She paused by the first-floor bulletin board, scanning the notices there.
Not much to see. She read an advertisement of the campus Catholic student organization, informing the passer-by of mass time at the various churches in town. She read an advertisement placed by a student who would type papers and reports for a small fee. She read an advertisement informing her that a free movie would be shown that evening in the dorm's social room, located in the basement.
Becky bad never heard of the movie but she decided to go. At least she would no longer be alone.
The social room had been converted into a small movie theater when she arrived. Chairs were aligned in rows facing a portable screen, and a 16 millimeter projector sat on a table at the back of the room. There weren't a great many people here-about half the perhaps 100 chairs were occupied-but it was better than sitting in her room feeling defeat and self-pity. Becky took a chair and waited for the show to begin.
It was a nice movie after all, she decided when the lights came up and everyone started filing out. The soundtrack music was performed by Elton John and the story dealt with a couple of teenagers in modern-day France who decided to run away from their stuffy and restrictive home lives. Settling down in a cottage in the south of France, they found themselves falling In love, and in a comically tender sequence of events, conceived a child between them and birthed it without assistance. And all the while Elton John's voice and piano weaved a delicately romantic musical background. Somewhere he sang a line that went more or less: "It's funny how young lovers start as friends," and Becky found herself repeating those words over and over in her mind. She wondered if she would ever find a lover or a friend.
The ending was unusual, at least in her experience. The boy's father had hired detectives to trace him, and the investigators had at last caught his trail. You saw them at the vineyard where the boy worked, and they were showing his picture round, and people were nodding, yes, yes, he works here-he should be in to start the day very soon: and then a cut to the boy and his girl-a childlike brunette, sweet-faced and, Becky noted, larger-breasted than the blonde freshman. The two said goodbye as the boy started on his way to work, and the girl held up the baby and waved its tiny arm at its father; and then still images, close-ups of their faces, appeared side by side on the screen and credit lines superimposed, telling you who they were in real life, and the movie ended. Someone In the audience went "Oh!" In disappointment.
But in the unfinished conclusion Becky found a solace of her own, a relief from the feelings that had impelled her to come to the darkened room where pictures flickered brightly colored on a screen. As the lights came up she sat in her chair, legs crossed neatly, mentally reviewing the various possibilities that might have transpired after the final freeze-frame shots on screen.
There was a voice at her shoulder and she turned to see a boy, more or less her own age she thought, standing beside her.
"What did you think of it?" he repeated.
Becky smiled. "It was pretty," she said. Her eyes scanned his frame, studied his face. He looked nice enough in a boy's way, she decided.
The guy sat down in the chair beside her. "How did the ending grab you?"
"It was different. Most movies seem compelled to tie everything together with a pink ribbon so you won't feel cheated at the end, but this one gave you the chance to be creative on your own. Don't you think so?"
He nodded pensively, as though he were weighing the intellectual balance of her words. "Say," he added quickly, "aren't we in the same psychology class? Dr. Richter's, Monday Wednesday Friday at 3:00?"
Becky shook her head. It was a nice try. She knew she could have him if she wanted him, and although she didn't especially want him, she wanted somebody. Let him squirm a little, she though bitchily. Make him think he's struck out.
There was a long pause and then Becky uncrossed her legs, stretched a little, and made as if to rise. The boy spoke quickly, not wanting to lose her.
"How did you like the music? You know, the Elton John songs?"
"They were lovely," Becky smiled. "I really like him."
"I have the soundtrack album," be said excitedly. "You know, some of the best songs on it, some of the rock tunes, you almost never got to hear in the movie, like the one that was playing on Paul's stereo when his grandmother and half-brother came to visit."
Becky smiled, and she knew she had him. "I'd love to hear the record," she sighed wistfully, her blue eyes limpid and sweetly shining.
He grinned as though he had scored big with her. "It's up in my room," ho said. "If you'd like to come up and listen to it…"
Becky rose and he stood with her. "That sounds nice," she said.
He lived on the sixth floor. His name was Roy and he was a freshman just like she was. And he was nervously excited as they rode the elevator up to his floor. Becky doubted he'd ever had a girl in his room before. She wondered if he'd ever scored a piece of cunt before either.
Roy unlocked his door and let her enter first. His roommate was away for the weekend, just like Marjie, and Becky could see that his eyes were gleaming in anticipation of what be thought would be the seduction of the lovely blonde he'd picked up.
She sat down on the bed nearest the boy's stereo set while he hunted through his albums and found the soundtrack LP she had come to hear. He put it on the turntable and then pulled the chair away from his desk and sat down. Becky stretched herself on the bed, kicking off her shoes, letting her short denim skirt ride high as she lounged. Its hem slipped and slipped, further and further up her creamy thighs, and she could see Roy pretending not to notice the leg shot she was giving him. He wasn't the most sexy or attractive guy she'd ever seen, but he seemed nice, if a little overly earnest, and after her turndown from Sam, she wasn't especially particular whose cock got into her tonight. Roy would do in a pinch, she thought.
The music was captivating and she could close her eyes and see once more the movie's young lovers, Paul and Michelle, walking along the sands of the Mediterranean, chasing wild horses, making love in the surf. Elton John's voice had a sexy romantic quality and she found herself breathing in time with his songs.
Roy said something to her and she started. "What did you say?" she asked. "I couldn't heat you over the record."
He put a hand out to turn down the volume of the stereo, but Becky's palm settled quickly atop his wrist, sparking him with a contact nearly electric. His eyes focused upon hers and he saw her patting the bed beside her.
"Come sit here," she said. "That way we'll be able to hear each other and still listen to the record." And she smiled, hypnotizing him with her pearly teeth, and Roy came like a sleepwalker to her side.
He stretched out beside her on the narrow bed, unsure whether he ought to let his body touch hers. As a consequence he found himself cramped and aching in his effort to keep nonchalantly separated until it was time to make his big move.
Becky's hand once more lay across his wrist, and he squirmed delightedly at the warm touch of her. "Isn't that a nice melody," she said, gesturing with her head at the playing record. He nodded. And then his cock sprang into an erection that arched painfully against the constricting fabric of his shorts and trousers, for Becky, her eyes closed, her lips humming along softly with Elton John, had snuggled tight against him, her apple breasts rubbing his chest, setting him afire through the shirt he wore. Her legs, barer and barer as she wiggled beside him as the shorty skirt rose, stretched like shapely marble columns.
Her face was close to his now, her hair, sweet and natural-smelling, brushed his cheek, and her hands had begun to stroke his chest. God Damn! Roy thought. I believe she wants to do it! But was he correct? he wondered in sudden fright. Was she only responding to Elton John, or did she want him, Roy, the guy she had just met downstairs? He'd never met a girl this aggressive before, and for that reason he was terrified that he was misinterpreting her actions. Suppose she only wanted to cuddle while she listened to Elton John?
He touched her hair lightly, his finger caressing her ear, stroking the tight flesh of her neck. She went "Ummm," and pushed her head closer to his cheek. Roy was sure now that she was braless, for he could feel the unfettered warmth of her tits, sense the poke of nipples against him. He longed to strip away her corduroy blouse and find out for sure.
She folded her legs, heels coming to rest against her ass, and the skirt rose even higher. Roy could see the black panties underneath. Tentatively his hand came to rest on her bared and beautiful thigh. He touched her. She didn't move to resist him. He began to stroke her bare leg, sliding his palm between her knee and the high-risen hem of her skirt. Still no resistance, no shrieks of "I'm a nice girl! Don't do anything like that to me!" Dared he hope? Dared he dream?
He slid his hand beneath her hem, touched and fondled the small portion of her thigh still shielded by her skirt. Still no protest! This was it, he decided exultingly. She was gonna let him do it!
Roy slid further up Becky's thigh. His finger traced round the leg opening of her panties, touched the protrusion of her bush and mons in the soft nylon undergarment, then, acting with a will of their own, insinuated themselves under her bikinis, actually touching the plump mound of her pussy. And, far from making him stop, she was actually thrusting her cunt against his exploring hand. She wanted him to feel her up!
"Becky," he said softly, his words muffled by her hair. She didn't reply. He realized with a jolt that she was already unbuttoning his shirt with one hand, unzipping his pants with the other!
Jesus, Becky thought, he sure took a long time to get down to action. Well, better late than never.
She was lying on her side, nude now, his hands fondling and caressing her pink points. His cock stuck forward like a third arm, its tip poking and pecking at her cunt hair. And now, maddeningly enough, he seemed to have no intention of going ahead with the act! At least, not fast enough to suit Becky. She wanted him to plunge inside her now, to fuck her till she screamed for mercy, but all he wanted to do was play with her tits. Damn, damn, double damn, hell! she thought angrily, remembering the pleasure she could have known with Sam had he been available to her. Becky's fingers suddenly wrapped round the stiff prong of Roy's dick and guided it unerringly to the lips of her cunt. She threw a leg across his hip, opening herself, then pressed forward, burying half his not overly large prick inside her.
Now he gets the message, she reflected with a grin, as Roy suddenly became aware that he was encunted within Becky and that he should take advantage of that fact. He gave a startled grunt and started humping against her, slashing his rod in and out. This time there was no pain inside her cunt passage, she realized, and she was overjoyed to think that perhaps she was finished with that uncomfortable reaction forever. Her pussy was growing accustomed to the action of a male cock inside its smooth walls.
Becky fucked herself against the boy, again and again, now fully aware that no bells were going to go off in her head on this occasion. Roy's screwing was nothing special, just as his cock was no great record-breaker. For all the good he was doing her, he might as well be sliding his prick in and out of his fist. Only the tingly feeling of his cock as it tickled her pussy lips served to remind her of the time with Sam and how great a good fuck could be when a girl had a guy who knew what to do with his rod.
The door behind them opened, and Beck and Roy both looked to see who was entering. She could feel his prick start to diminish as fear scared off his erection, and she clamped tightly on him with the muscles of her cunt, afraid lest even this unsatisfactory pronging be denied her.
"Hey, I'm sorry," said the guy who had just opened the door and started into the room. He looked incredulously at Roy and Becky, studied their nude bodies-especially the lovely blonde girl's-then turned, redfaced.
"Uhhh," Roy grunted, his cock revivified by Becky's cuntal stimulation, its length beginning to thrust in and out once more.
"Hi," said Becky, smiling at the newcomer even as she squeezed her pussy round Roy's diddling dick, even as she swiveled her hips back and forth, impaling herself time and again on the impaling penis. "You busy?" she added.
"Uh, I-"
"Good," she commanded, "you can have a seat. I think I'm gonna need you in about a minute."
There! She felt Roy's cock begin to jerk uncontrollably inside her, preliminary to the ejaculation of his testicles' milky product. He stiffened his body and jabbed her bard, two, three times, his penis emptying itself in her wet depths. Roy's cock went soft almost immediately and slithered out of Becky's pussy like a frightened snake scurrying down a garden path.
She cursed softly, under her breath, and rolled round on the bed. The new boy was standing close beside her, his back to the other bed. She threw herself upon him madly, driving him backward, knocking him to the mattress at his back, and she straddled her body over his crotch, rubbing her cant against the hastily arising shaft of his manhood. She felt it grow and stiffen inside his pants, and she knew that he was ready now. Two guys in a row? she thought wickedly. Becky Ryan, you're nothing but a horny little slut!
Becky lifted her dripping cunt from its perch atop the stunned boy and applied her hands to getting down his pants. She jerked his trousers and shorts down to his ankles, touched his peter with teasing fingers of fire, and jerked her fist upon his shaft till he moaned aloud in ecstatic misery.
She glanced abruptly over her shoulder. Roy still lay on the bed where she had left him. His cock hung limp between his legs, resting lightly on the sack of bails below. Globules of his creamy come glistened on the stalk. On his face was a look of bemused puzzlement as he stared uncomprehendingly. He had just fucked the pretty blonde, he thought uncertainly. Why in the shit was she getting ready to climb onto the guy from down the ball? And what the hell was the guy from down the hail doing here, anyway?
"Are you ready, Tiger?" Becky purred, hovering above his stiff cock. The guy below muttered and whimpered. He hadn't expected anything like this to happen to him-not tonight! But damned if he would try to stop it. His prick was cocked for action and if this wacky girl only got it inside her, she'd be cocked too!
Becky's cunt was already lubricated and moist. She braced her feet on the bed, straddling his crotch, and lowered herself. His cock touched her cunt, and her fingers seized it, directing it to the hole where its services were needed. It slipped inside with absolutely no trouble, pushing home on a greased track, and she began to piston herself up and down on him. Each time she dropped, her cunt hairs brushed against his own pubic bush, and the tickling was out of sight! She wiggled her ass as she fucked herself on him, and his cock scraped and slid round in the mouth of her pussy.
Her foot slipped as she bounced up and down, and she started to fall forward. As she did, his cock suddenly bumped the pulsing nub of her clitty button, and Becky went into spasms. Her cunt snapped tight round his cock like a glove, and she thrust herself forward, to keep constant that exciting pressure on her love bump. The cock that shucked in and out of her humping crotch was bathed in her sweet wet syrup, and each tap on her clit increased her flow of honey juice.
She lay forward on him, her chest pressed against his belly, her mouth sucking at his neck and chin, drifting upward to drink deep at his mouth, her tongue licking his cheeks and lips and nose. Lying stretched forth as she was, the rubbing of his stiff cock on her erogenous nubbin was continuous, and Becky knew that she had to let herself go, to come as if her life depended on it.
"I'm gonna shoot," he was hissing into her open mouth. "I'm gonna drop my load." His arms tightened round her back and he held her to him. "Is it okay if I come inside you?" he asked her, the strength of his grip precluding any possibility that she might get away from him before he let go of the shuddering load building up in his sack of nuts.
"Shoot, damn it!" she gasped. "Fill me up!" And she jerked her cunt down tight, the labia squeezing him like a nutcracker, and he had to react in the only way he could, his cock jerking and pumping. Becky shrilled her joy as the first spraying gush of come flowed into her twat, and she humped down heavy on him, twisting and writhing to get as much of him into her as she could take. Again his cock erupted, and again, and again. The juice that squirted out of his penis seemed to have no end, and she thought madly that she could feel it spraying up her belly, up her throat, into her mouth! She spread her cunt as she pressed down upon him, wanting to ingest his balls, his legs, his whole body, anything at all to fill the aching void of her climaxing pussy.
In the deepest sense, she knew even in the abandon of the moment, this was even better than she had had with Sam, because this time she knew what to expect. She could plan her actions, anticipate her reactions, and make the experience of orgasm even more delightful for herself.
Becky held her vagina down bard, sucking into her churning guts all the come flow the boy could spit out, her inner muscles milking the juice from him, pumping it up her love tract, until he went dry and his exhausted cock collapsed. When she could stimulate it hard no longer, she flopped off him, his peter sliding from her with a small, funny "swiiittt" sound, and she lay beside him on the bed.
"Jesus," he said in a choked mumble. He looked at the magnificent nude form next to him, drank in the beauty of her classic face, the small perfect orbs of her tits, the lovely, burnt gold satin of her cunt hair, now dripping from the juices the two guys had shot off in her. He scanned her long legs, sweat-drenched, tanned, shapely. This girl was a fucking dreamboat! And he had just banged the hell out of her! He wondered who she was, what she was doing here.
As the bliss of his ejaculation frenzy wore off him, he remembered that he was sitting here nude from waist to ankles, and that Roy, the guy who lived in this room, was sitting completely nude on the bed across from him. Red-faced, he bent to pull up shorts and trousers, buckling his belt hastily.
"How the hell did you get in on this?" Roy suddenly demanded. He made no move to cover up his limp cock as he stared with a quizzical expression at the couple on the other bed.
The intruder rubbed a hand across his brow, surprised to find that he, too, was perspiring heavily. His mouth was dry, and words came to him with difficulty. "I-uh-came to see if you had any Salems. The machine in the hall is out of them."
Becky raised herself on one elbow and looked with kittenish glee at the two guys. "Don't start any bitching on my account," she said. "After all, my body is all my own, and I fuck anyone I want to fuck. You," she said to Roy, "got your rocks off, but you left me up in the air. He got me over the hump. I'm glad ho came along."
"What's your name?" asked the guy Becky had just screwed.
"Beck," said the girl. "What's yours?"
"Paul. Hey," he went on, bending his head close to hers, "can I see you again sometime, maybe?"
Becky shrugged her shoulders. "Depends," she observed dryly.
"Cut this shit," said Roy with a frown. "I saw her first."
Becky got off the bed. "You don't own me," she told him. "Like I said, my body is my property. I came up here tonight because I wanted to get fucked, and I did. There's no telling where I'll go or who I'll go with the next time I want to get fucked." She began to dress.
"Oh, come on, Beck," said Roy. "I didn't mean to get possessive. I'd like to see you again, too."
"I live here in Bentley," she said nonchalantly. "You might see me anytime. One never knows." Dressed, she headed for the door. "Oh," she added, looking over her shoulder, "thank you for playing the Elton John record for mc. It was very nice of you." And she was gone.
As the door closed behind her she heard Paul say to Roy, "Jesus, God, what a fuck! That bitch has got an ass on her like nobody's business." And it's nobody's business what I do with my ass, either, she thought with a wry smile as she headed for the elevator.