OIL ON CANVAS; A WORK IN PROGRESS
The boy stood watching us, uninhibited, as Andrea and I attempted to re-arrange our dishevelled appearances. Only moments before, my friend's face had been buried deliciously between my thighs. Her lips were still damp and glistening from her foray. My shirt was open, my tits exposed, hard little nipples protruding eagerly. How embarrassing! I was aware of a deep, warm blush flooding my cheeks, this seemed to amuse him. His eyes played greedily over my body as I hurriedly repaired my shirt. A button was missing; it had come loose earlier under the pressure of my friend's eager hands. After a quick appraisal of myself, I realised that I was showing more cleavage than I probably should be.
The boy stayed where he was, obviously not planning to leave any time soon. He was supporting his weight on a stack of library shelves which shielded our alcove from the rest of the room. He was also blocking our only exit. I looked at Andrea. At a glance, she appeared to be surveying our intruder coolly but there was a hint of worry in her eyes. Her gaze dropped to the large bulge that protruded from the crotch of his washed-out jeans.
He moved gracefully; his long, lazy stride belied the 'jock-like' first impression which I had made. Leaning closer conspiratorially, he whispered "thing like this get' s spread around, couple of babes like you could be in big trouble."
He reached across the table with a muscular arm and cupped one of my friend's pert tits, squeezing it roughly. His bulge intensified in size and his eyes darted to my bare legs. I quickly pressed them shut beneath my cotton skirt, I remembered that I wasn't wearing any underwear.
My mind played wildly for a moment, assessing the situation and it's possible outcomes. Erotic images of the guy taking turns at us; his girth stretching my pussy wide as he pinned my wrists with one strong hand and relentlessly hammered my depth. The friction grazing my soft pink walls and his spunk warming my thighs shortly after. Then me, watching in amazement as his huge cock ravaged Andréa's delicate little arse. Heat and arousal flooded between my legs and I chased the thoughts away, ashamed of myself.
"What's it to you anyway?" Andrea pulled away and batted at his outstretched arm, challenging him boldly. I had never known her to be meek, and now her brow quickly knotted in annoyance. "What's your problem, coming in here and acting like that? Jerk like you could get in big trouble for that! It's our word against your's mate."
The jerk held his palms out in supplication. "Hey," he reasoned amicably. "Keep your knickers on!" He laughed at his own joke. "Maybe I'll keep my mouth shut... Maybe."
Nobody spoke. The guy shrugged his shoulders, reached out across the table and flipped my notebook open. He slid it towards himself and scrawled what looked to be an address; upside down on the first page, above a brief bio I had been outlining on Edgar Degas.
"Tomorrow night, 9 o'clock," he grinned. "Party. Come, have a laugh and we'll forget about today."
I looked at Andrea inquiringly. She was still frowning but her face looked a little softer, more relaxed.
"It'll be fun," he promised.
"Okay," I agreed, on a whim. Tomorrow was Friday and I didn't have plans yet. I love house parties, and the guy was really cute when he smiled.
Andrea nodded, "alright, we'll come to your party. But you don't breathe a word to anyone about what you just saw. And..." she added, "you keep your hands to yourself until you get permission. If you get permission." She flashed him one of her amazing smiles and the tension was broken.
"Tomorrow, 9 o'clock," he repeated, grinning. "See you there." With that he backed off and disappeared from view behind the partition.
The mood was suddenly elevated once more. I was really looking forward to this party and I could see that Andrea was too. On the way home, we chatted about what clothes we might each wear. Even though Andrea was half a foot taller than me, we wore roughly the same skirt size so we agreed to get ready together and maybe swap a few outfits. This excited me even more; we would be dressing, and more importantly undressing, in front of each other. This would be sure to result in more of our earlier antics.
The next morning, I awoke with a huge grin on my face. I was looking forward to spending the whole day with sexy Andrea, and afterwards a very promising evening lay ahead.
I allowed the dirty thoughts to flood my head as I fingered myself lazily beneath the covers. With my nightie hiked up, I spread my legs wide and pictured Andrea, head down, sucking at my dripping pussy. The image changed and the guy from the library appeared, with his cock bulging eagerly against the strain of his jeans. I grabbed blindly for my vibrator, which I kept hidden in a box under my bed. I turned it on and held it at my clit for a moment. The guy's jeans miraculously disappeared and a huge, thick cock sprung forth; rock hard and wet at the tip.
I inserted the toy between my soaking lips and it slid inside me with ease. I realised that I didn't know the guy's name but that didn't really matter. All that mattered was that his cock stayed hard and continued to pummel my insides until I climaxed. I came hard, naturally lubricating the rubber device and I immediately pressed it between the cheeks of my arse.
Mr Grant, my college art teacher had awoken something in me the previous day and I was eager to find out what it felt like to be fucked in my arse. As if by magic, the guy disappeared as quickly as he had came and Mr Grant's voice spoke from behind me. 'Now it's time for your next lesson,' he said inside my head as I imagined the sound of his zip being released. But no matter how much I pressed and pushed, I couldn't manage to get the thing to sink deeper than an inch. I gave up after a few minutes and decided that I would need to find someone to do it for me. Perhaps Andrea would oblige, I smiled to myself. I showered and dressed hurriedly, then threw some dresses in to my rucksack to try on with her later.
The hours crept by, I spent the morning stealing subtle glances at my friend. She kept teasing me by bending over to adjust her shoe straps and occasionally licking the wooden tip of her paintbrush. I noticed that her actions hadn't been lost on our teacher when he asked Andrea to stay behind at lunch time for a chat.
"It's okay," she said to me, with a little grin on her face. "I'll meet you in the cafeteria later." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "I could be a while." She winked conspiratorially at me before disappearing in to his office.
I wanted desperately to hang around and maybe get a look at what they were doing in there, but Mr Grant dismissed me with a nod and closed the door. There was nothing I could do, the door was a plain wood affair with no window. I couldn't very well burst in at a crucial moment either, I wasn't that brave. After a few minutes, I gave it up and headed for the cafeteria; annoyed and frustrated.
After a quick lunch, I went for a walk around the campus. It was a warm day and I didn't feel like being cooped up indoors. If Andrea arrived and couldn't find me, she could send a text message. I wandered away from the main buildings and crossed a manicured lawn towards the outskirts of the land which the college occupied. I found a bench under a knot of trees and took a seat, enjoying the summer air.
"Hello again," a voice greeted me. I turned abruptly and looked up in to a face which I recognised. The guy from the library.
"Hi," I acknowledged him with a smile and a little wave.
He looked embarrassed for a moment, but recovered quickly and took a seat beside me. "I'm looking forward to seeing you and your... um, friend tonight." He said. "I hope you're still up for it."
"Sure," I nodded. "It'll be fun."
Nothing was said for a while and I felt a bit awkward as he adjusted position to look at me. His eyes drank me in, head to toe. "I know I'm not supposed to mention it, but the other day, in the library... what you two were up to really got me going. I can't stop thinking about it."
I offered a shy smile and thought about what his cock had done, both real and imagined.
"So do you only fuck girls?" He asked suddenly. "Or..."
I cut him off, "no I like guys too." I pictured his cock, swelling and pressing in to my mouth. Definitely guys too, I thought.
Without hesitation, his mouth covered mine in a hot, delicious kiss. His tongue probed my mouth and I responded by pressing my own in to his. He sucked on my tongue and my lips, as his heavy hands groped under my top. My own hand strayed to his groin and I massaged his swelling bulge with a vigour I didn't know I possessed. I was then lifted bodily like I weighed nothing at all, I gasped and struggled for a moment, not sure what was about to happen. He lay me unceremoniously on the grass behind the bench, the trees loomed above with bright shards of sunlight dancing through. It made me think of the Wilmshurst painting I had seen at an exhibition; if that piece could come alive, this is just how it would look, I mused.
His hands were everywhere; tearing at my top and forcing it up, then under my skirt and between my legs. He wedged a knee between them and forced my thighs apart. A warm tongue teased my nipples before he sucked on them and nibbled the sensitive skin. I felt the lace of my knickers tear as he fumbled inside them and two long fingers entered me.
"Wait," I said, "I don't think we should..."
But his mouth covered mine and drowned my words as his jeans were opened and a thick, wet helmet pressed urgently against the entrance to my pussy. I was so turned on at that moment, but I felt uncomfortable and exposed; about to be roughly taken outdoors by a guy I barely knew. I got the palms of my hands flat against his hard chest, trying to push him off of me. His weight pinned me against the ground and I felt my tight muscles release as the enormous cock slowly entered me. I stopped fighting at that point and succumbed to the delicious sensations that enveloped me as his shaft travelled deeper, inch by inch. My hole simultaneously stretched invitingly and clenched in protest and I suddenly realised; I still don't know his name. My own voice inside my head came back to me 'That doesn't matter. All that matters is that his cock stays hard and continues to pummel my insides until I climax.'
The guy was really building up a rhythm now, his bottom flexed and clenched as he pounded his pelvis against me, my legs and arms splayed out on the soft ground. I realised that I was panting and moaning, savouring the sensations that his cock was creating inside me. He grabbed at my thighs for purchase and his motions became rougher and more pronounced. His cock ventured deeper with the new movement and I could feel it hammering against the very depths of me, both pleasuring and punishing my inexperienced hole.
