Some asshole had tried to explain to me, back in April, that the single-room in Waterford was “the size of a postage stamp.” What a lying little bitch.
“Oh my god,” Stacy had squealed, “I hear there isn’t even, like, a real bed in there, it’s just, like, a mattress thrown on the floor.”
“REALLY?!” I had exclaimed, genuinely excited. I had always enjoyed visions of debauched Thoreaueanism. Keeping things simple and skanky. That mattress could get awfully dirty, then. Good way to bring a princess or two down a notch, to toss them on that baby!
Of course Stacy looked very displeased with herself, so I knew right then she was full of shit. Oh well, I didn’t really blame her. Singles were hard to come by, they were bound to be a source of competition. Girl was entitled to use a few wiles, trying to get what she wants.
I kept that in mind once I moved in. I wanted to give Stacy the full tour. The mattress wasn’t on the floor, of course, but all the same it was fine for taking her down a notch in.
“Ruth,” she said when she caught me, bagel in hand, making my way back from the cafeteria, “I’m so curious to see what that prison-cell of your’s is like.”
Indeed. “Sure, I’d love to show you. It’s actually a lot more decent than we had thought,” I said, as I ushered her along. I actually hummed to myself a bit. I knew enough of her proclivities, and certainly she knew about mine. I thought we looked a right pair, her looking sun kissed and tall, a modest take on the mall queen, and me close-cropped and scruffy, a hipster in her skinny jeans. Conformity and nonconformity make for a sexy yin-yang, I often find.
I didn’t bother reminding her of her chicanery last term that afternoon, even when I was peeling down the zipper of her new skirt from Express. So mainstream. She’ll go far in life, that lying little ho. That pert little bosom of hers was out already, she had done most of the work undressing herself.
She was so eager once she got in my room, you would think she owned the place. I thought she might waste my time with her Summer Reading, “Daniel Deronda” or Michelle Tea or whatever it was. Such a sweet mouth though. Kisses like strawberries and cream. Neat little licks. We were on good terms, it was nice she could be a little liar and I could take her in hand. Sometimes people have an understanding, without even really knowing each other that well. Seems Stacy got that she wasn’t really my equal. Even if she was living now in a suite, and I was in my humble “postage stamp.” Ha!
But I did go so far as to offer her the use of the floor. “You wanna take it on all fours, little bitch? On your hands and knees, down on the floor?”
“No--oo--oo. Please? I want you on top of me, here.”
“If you’re on all fours then I’m staying on top of you, bitch! You think I’m gonna crawl underneath you? Hmm?”
“Of course not. But you can stay here.” She smiled. “Princess,” I added. She smiled real big. She liked the sound of that, predictably. But I set some limits.
“You like saying ‘no’, don’t you? No--oo--oo, this, no--oo-oo that,” I mocked. “I don’t like the sound of ‘no’. I’m too politically correct to deal with that. You want something from me, you better ask for it all nice and clear.”
I gave her a nice slap on the cheek, on the face. Okay, I’m not so politically correct, but we have to make allowances. Anyway, she did.
“Yes, mistress,” she purred. She was looking quite radiant, on both cheeks. I think the feel of my strap-on against her pelvis was starting to have an effect.
“So would you like a nice hard fucking here, princess, up on my bed?” I asked. I suppose that was a subtle tease about her words last spring, but she didn’t catch on to that. So she doesn’t do subtle, I don’t mind really. I was offering it hard, no?
“Yes, please, mistress. You can fuck me real nice and hard now.”
I laughed, more heartily than scoffingly. “I ‘can’, can I? I ‘can’, you tell me, little bitch!” I slapped one of her exposed titties. She just gave me one of those toothy smiles, like all those actresses on those fucking nighttime soaps who act with their teeth. You know: stick out chin, snarl, peel your upper lip off your front teeth, stare. Fucking hate that. I mean every fucking episode!
I dived on her mouth with mine, slid my tongue in, felt hers dance against me. She wasn’t a static kisser, Stacy knew how to move her mouth around. A hint of sloppy, but not out of order. She ran her hands over my back. Such a little diplomat. Comforting, maternal almost. Fuck, you gotta show these people who’s boss.
I heaved myself aloof, smiling down on her mischievously. I dived on one of her breasts, took the nipple in and sucked down on it hard, a little flick of the teeth on it just for show. She curled her lip, reached up and flicked one of my nipple rings menacingly. A jolt shot through me. I was a bit worried, maybe I shouldn’t delay things. Hard and decisive, that’s how I roll. She asked for it, after all.
So I went to work on that little thong of hers that was the last barrier between her and my hardness. Cute little number, neon-blues and yellows in stripes, little bow at the top. Like Marie Antoinette gone Miami Vice or some shit. Who can fathom the profundities of mall culture?
She was nice and cooperative, made efficient little rolls of her hips to help me with my tug, tug, tug work. Promising, her little skills. I kept it going, down the length of her legs, letting myself enjoy the satin of her thighs. Such a smooth girl, especially for the Humanities. Delicate little kneecaps, long flute-like calves. Like a ballerina, almost. Skin a hint of olive. I should play with her more, I thought to myself. But later, later! Time for fucking, take control.
I left her thong somewhere along her foot and stole back upon her, letting her get a good look at my dolphin dildo, and I pumped the lube bottle I had propped against the wall and slicked my tool, then cupped my wet hand against her snatch. Pink, slick, bald. Damn damn damn. Stacy grinned like a catovore canary, oh so pleased. Show-off. So sweet though. I petted her snatch, so inviting. Her musk wafting through the room. Oh, she didn’t need any warming up but still, why not take the scenic route?
I started to rub with my hand, then I balanced myself with my knees bent on the foot of the bed and started to massage the insides of her thighs, spreading her slickness and my lube around, pinching at the taut smooth muscles lining the path up into her little private paradise. I knelt in, just meaning to tease and get a good whiff but I couldn’t help but flick her button, popped up as it was, just a little caress with the tip of my tongue, along the tip. And along the left. And then on the right. Her hips rolled, a nice fluid murmur of the pelvis, inviting more. I paused and then started down at the base of her vulva, down in the dark groove of her perineum and up, up, along one side of that puffy pink valley. And then down, down the other.
She moaned with delight, invitingly. “You like?” I asked, a tad too solicitously. Damn, the bottoms always run the show. I watched her nod her head, very pleased. I felt quite pleased with myself, like the teacher was planting a gold star on my forehead. Out of nowhere, I had an urge to suck Stacy’s thumb.
I put that prompting to work on her clit, pursing my lips smoothly over it and giving it slow, fluttery little sucks. Then I put my tongue to work lapping at her vulva, a few broad strokes down the middle, then little targeted laps with just the tip. My hands smoothed themselves onto her hips. She had a very satisfying body, graceful curves. I pushed my head up to kiss on her belly.
I wasn’t trying to be a tease, I just felt very worshipful all of a sudden. Her head rested, lolling gently from side to side, a rhythm of articulate delight. I cupped a breast and then another. Hard brown nubbins poking up. I tugged at them gingerly, squeezed on her titties a bit while snaking my mouth down over her abdomen, leaving little butterfly kisses and sly sweet licks, a trail of affectionate nothings till my chin strafed her pussy and I bent down and started to kiss her hairless snatch, my tongue possessive, slurpy.
Thoughts of strap-on action were far off now. I just wanted to lick, kiss, tongue that mound. Who needs dildos? It seemed remarkable now that I would want to waste a body like this. This was so much better, more intimate. Facedown in her center, seeing and smelling all those intimate delicate folds, I could play this sweet girl like a bell. I had skills, why not show them off?
Anyone can be a fucker: I wanted to take this girl higher, down between her legs. She was a quiet girl, not demonstrative. We could harmonize, without words, a singular achievement. I wormed my tongue around inside her walls, circling it within, my fingers gently massaging the outer labia, keeping her spread. Slow, steady moans peeled out from her throat. I lapped away, my tongue fanning upwards through the hole, rubbing firmly against the roof of her vagina, teasing up against her clit, taking her higher but holding off against her release.
I was dimly aware of the afternoon sun, warming the back of my neck and flecking the flat plains of her abdomen. Even in my pussy-licking zone, I couldn’t help but to steal admiring glances at her. This girl was really a keeper. Why hadn’t I seen that before?
I worked my hands under her ass and tilted her up, signaling the final assault. A pause in my licking for dramatic effect, and then my tongue started to lap, slowly, rhythmically, around and around her clitty. Her little cherry bud rested, soft and demure, against my tongue for a few strokes, and then it suddenly came to full attention, solid as a slick beach pebble, as Stacy’s back arched and her breath caught. I kept my pace, completely in control, and rejoicing within as I stroked, stroked, and she convulsed, the dam bursting, and I stole a finger inside her to feel her explosion from within.
When Stacy’s orgasm had run its course, I softly blew on her clitty and gave her affectionate soft kisses around her mound, the insides of her thighs. My lids were heavy, a soft weight of pride and affection stealing over my head with promises of sleep. I looked up to catch her beaming upon me. “Come here, you!” she said.
I snaked up her length to face her, and she opened my mouth with hers. We made out, her lips sucking away at mine till I felt puffy and stung. I nuzzled my dildo, half forgotten now, against her pelvis, my silicone attribute making me feel a bit naughty and possessive somehow. She raked her fingers delicately along my back. She smiled possessively.
“You wanna share a nap?” she said, smiling. I nodded contentedly. “Here,” she said, “why don’t you take that off and get more comfortable?” I stood and complied, unbuckling my needless harness and stepping out of it, crawling back to her, naked. We cuddled, and once again she flicked one of my nipple rings.
“Tell me,” she said thoughtfully, “do these make you feel like Little Miss Bossy, all tough and in control, or like a submissive little slave?” Her fingers pinched my nipple, top to bottom, for effect, as her eyes studied me. She kept the bud trapped and teased between two fingers, flicking my ring up from below and letting it rest again. “Hmm?”
“Well, . . .” I said, “that depends, I suppose. It’s an interesting academic question.”
Stacy laughed. Her free hand took my other pierced nipple and captured it, matching its actions to the other hand. I jerked, jutting my breasts towards her, and squirmed and mewed a little. She flicked the rings rhythmically, alternating one nipple and the next as she spoke. “That’s funny,” she said, “I don’t think that’s an academic question at all.”
Holding my pierced nipples captive, she rested her chin against mine and kissed me gently. I felt a nail flick across my nipple and very softly she added, “Do you?” I just groaned, my throat ragged. Her eyes shone deeply into mine. I felt like she was shining a light inside a deep, dark cavern, exposing all within. Involuntarily I ground my crotch against her, a hand at her waist. I was in a zone, I knew. Felt like-- subspace. Shit.
Playing and teasing, we stayed like that for many minutes, her mouth and fingers keeping me on edge. Eventually she let the arousal subside into a dull, burning ache, one that allowed my body, edgy but grateful, to relent into a sweet afternoon nap.
Later I awoke, to sounds of Stacy rummaging about. I let my eyes stay closed, feeling the sunshine through the window on my back, contented and quiet as a cat. Her searching continued. Presently I heard her say, “Ah, this is better.”
I opened my eyes and looked for her. She was standing across the room, in front of the open drawer where I hid my toys. She was holding up a jelly dildo (phthalate-free, natch), eight inches long, which I had once or twice tried on myself, not very successfully.
She was wearing my harness.
“Hello, sleepyhead,” she said cheerfully. “I was thinking you might enjoy a proper fuck, as a repayment on your very fine lip service earlier!” She began exchanging my diminutive dolphin for the bright blue monster she had discovered. She smiled at me. “You’re such a very good cuntsucker, I feel I need to prove myself in some way so you don’t feel like things are unequal. So I think I’ll just come over there and rub the sleepers out of your eyes and then maybe you can get down on the floor on all fours and I can show you what a good strap-on artist I am!” She was lapsing into sing-song now, grinding her pelvis around, the dildo bobbing. “Fuck that hot little cunt, open up that sweet little ass. You want that Ruthie, you little lezzy hipster slut-girl? C’mon,” she cheered, “say it!”
My stomach fired off a signal which felt something like indigestion, but my poor heedless heart was singing like Caruso.
She came and stood over me with a mischievous look, the realistic cock jiggling with menace. She twisted one of my vulnerable pierced nipples, hard and nasty.
“You know,” she said, “maybe you should loan me the spare key so I can come over unannounced, so we can share our little games whenever. Sort of an ‘all-access’ arrangement, so I can just enter whenever I please? And whatever I please,” she added emphatically, squeezing down on my nipple, twisting it around painfully, delightfully.
If my throat could form speech on its own, the clench it greeted these words of hers with would have spelled out ‘No’, but instead I moaned and smiled and sighed out the word “Yes.”
She grinned, a harmony of sweetness and authority. Then she said, perhaps joking, who could say?: “You know, pet, we could even fit a little guestroom mattress on the floor here. You could sleep on it and I could take the bed. Whaddaya say?”
I got up, gave her hip a passing caress and then carefully arranged myself on the hardwood floor, on my hands and knees. I closed my eyes in a silent prayer as I spread my knees apart and, with a wary sigh, made myself open.
And then I simply said, “Please don’t forget the lube, Princess.”
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