The Girl I Snaked
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“We’re gonna have a keg party Saturday night. Keep it a secret, just guys from the dorm and their dates.”
The freshmen thought they’d succeeded, but a couple of us seniors found out about it. Even in fraternities, keg parties for those under 21 were illegal and could get everyone in trouble. We “responsible” seniors (that is, those who had no date for the weekend) decided that it would be impossible to crush the party in advance, but we would keep an eye on it to prevent excess.
It began to get out of hand shortly after 9 and our leader Scott swooped in and slashed the tap system. Someone repaired it quickly and threatened to fight if Scott tried that again. We were faced with having the place overrun with crashers who couldn’t hold their beer, but calling campus police would have really caused trouble. Scott called the beer supplier and he agreed to cut them off, so at least when this keg was exhausted there would be no more beer and the party would fizzle out.
“Pete, I’ve got a problem.”
“Can’t hold your beer?” I cracked, though clearly he was completely sober.
“No, it’s Steve. He’s really drunk. Now he’s arguing with some guy over the Red Sox, He took a swing at his date. I can’t reason with him.”
When I arrived there were three couples in the room. Steve was in a stupid argument about Red Sox relief pitching. They asked me to decide who was right and, after listening to both sides, I picked the other guy. Steve cursed me, his date, and his roommate, then staggered into his room and slammed the door.
Steve’s date was pretty shaken up. Carol was tallish, maybe 5-7, with a delicate frame, long brown hair, and a peaches-and-cream complexion. Under the circumstances it seemed like a good idea to get her out of the room.
It was a warm spring night so I suggested we walk down toward the river. As we were heading down the hall someone said “Pete snaked Steve’s girl!”
This was awkward. I didn’t have a date this weekend, in great part because I was essentially broke. Suddenly I was responsible for a girl named Carol about whom I knew nothing. I had to take care of her until she went back to wherever she went to school, and keep Steve away from her.
I told her about the submarine races that were going to be held on the river, starting around 11, and that they were practicing now. She had never heard about them but as I explained she got more and more interested.
Since even in spring New Hampshire can be chilly at night, I went back to my room and got my blankets and two windbreakers. We headed toward a section of the college graveyard with a river view.
I spread one blanket at the base of large obelisk and wrapped us in the other two. She leaned into me and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders.
I explained that you had to pay close attention to the river to spot the wakes of the submarines’ periscopes as they sped by.
“Look, there’s a practice run. See it?” Carol said she didn’t see a thing.
I spotted several more periscope ripples in the next five minutes and soon she began to see them as well. We laughed at the absurdity of submarines in the Connecticut River and rewarded ourselves for successful spotting with high fives. At one point I bestowed a kiss on her forehead. When I spotted the next ripple she gave me a kiss on the lips.
The stone slab was getting cold, so we shifted our position to the grass. We kept spotting the subs and rewarded ourselves with quick kisses. After one particularly warm kiss, Carol drew her knees up in front of her and looked away.
“Thank you for saving me from Steve and his friends. I’m glad you brought me to the races.”
“He was treating you badly. You deserve better.”
We sat there, silently, she in her thoughts, sancaktepe escort me — well, thinking about her. Finally I asked her, “What’s the story?”
Suddenly she was crying, shaking. I moved over to her and held her close. I stroked her hair but it took a while before she regained her composure.
“I met Steve at a mixer in February. He was very sweet. He came to Holyoke a couple of times and I just fell in love with him.
“We decided this weekend was the perfect time for us to make love. When I got off the bus around two, there he was with a large sign: ‘Carol. I love you.’ We took my bag in his room and I thought, ‘I am going to make love for the first time right here, tonight.’
“We walked all over the campus and had dinner at a restaurant. By candlelight. With a bottle of wine. We held hands across the table. We got back to his room around 8:30. I was floating on air.
“The guys were using his room to store the keg. Steve got really angry. He told them to move it, but they said that they couldn’t, they were afraid the crashers were going to ruin the party. He got more and more angry, almost crazy. I couldn’t get his attention, he pushed me away.
“Eventually they moved the keg into the hall and right away he had a couple of beers. When this big guy came in and cut the tube, Steve wanted to fight him. Then he went after his roommate because his room smelled like a brewery. I couldn’t reach him, he was in a rage. He got mad at another guy about baseball. By the time you got there he was almost incoherent. I think he was afraid of you, so that’s why he slammed the door.”
And she started crying again, sobbing.
Her sobbing slowly subsided, but the cold ground and the damp air were getting to us.
“It’s late. Let’s go back to my room. I’ll get your bag and you can stay with me.”
The dorm was quiet. The keg was dead and Scott had enforced order. Carol slipped into my room and locked the door. I went down the hall and quietly entered Steve’s room. He was passed out on his bed. The place smelled of stale beer and vomit. I found Carol’s bag and purse.
Carol was sitting on my desk chair when I arrived.
“I think these are — ” and all at once she was kissing me. Hard. Her hand went to my suddenly stiffening cock, fumbling for my zipper. I stepped back, stunned.
“Carol, it’s okay, I’m — “
“Don’t say anything, just fuck me,” she said, in a hard voice that was not meant to be contradicted.
She yanked my shirt off, my pants down, pulled my shoes off. Her clothes were off even faster. There was no romance, no foreplay. When I went for the condoms in my dresser she hissed “forget the rubbers. My period will start in a couple of days.”
She pulled me onto the bed and got right to it. “Put it in me, now,” she commanded, as she lay on her back.
She took my cock and pulled me to her opening, then grabbed my ass and pulled while thrusting up against my cock. A steel plate would not have withstood the pressure and I was all the way in. It had to have hurt her but all she said was “Uhhh!”
We thrashed around, nearly falling off the bed. I came pretty quickly but she didn’t seem to care. I dropped off, got soft, and slid out.
We lay on our sides in silence, the pool of cum and blood between us, not really looking at each other.
“Peter, I —”
“What was —”
“Peter, I just had to do that. Now it’s over. Can I go pee?”
Few rooms in the dorm had bathrooms, and mine wasn’t one of them. We used the shower rooms and toilets at the center of each wing. I gave Carol a pair of pants and a sweatshirt and we tiptoed to the bathroom. Fortunately, no one was around. We got back in my ümraniye escort room unobserved.
It was after 1 a.m. I had no idea what was going to happen next. I had taken on the responsibility for this girl. She had jumped me, forced me to have sex with her. Maybe the best thing was simply to go to sleep.
We pulled the mattress onto the floor, made the bed with new sheets, and slid under the blankets. I kissed her on the forehead and, after a pause, she kissed me on the lips. We moved slowly forward and she waited for me at each stage. I began to kiss her face, tongued her ear (which seemed to excite her, but she didn’t say anything), and slowly kissed my way down her chest to her breasts. When I touched the nipple on her left breast she said “mmm,” the first sound she had made since we lay down. As I moved further along she moved slightly, then brought her hands to my head and “mmmm”-d a couple more times. When I started for her pussy she bent her left leg to give me access.
“Carol, what feels good? There is so much —”
“Steve — oh damn!” and she started to cry, but stopped, choked up. She regained herself in a minute.
“Can you play with my clitty? I do that and it makes me feel so good.”
I moved my head between her legs and began with my tongue. Dipping my finger into her vagina, which was starting to get wet, I brought her clit out from the skin folds. It stood more than a half inch tall with a nice button at the end. Carol’s “mmmm”-ing was longer and deeper than before as I took it into my mouth and sucked it. She encouraged me with her hands against the back of my head. As I continued she said “so nice, feels so nice” a couple of times. She was starting to push against my face with her hips, so I slipped beside her and brought my finger in to play with her clit.
Keeping my finger busy, I moved to her inner thighs and lightly kissed them both. Carol was breathing heavily and pushing hard against my hand.
“Oh Peter, do me with your mouth again, on my clitty, please.”
With this encouragement I went back to tonguing her clit. Slowly she began humping up against my face, pulled her thighs against my head, and pulled my head even tighter into her pussy.
“There, that’s it, oh yes, yessssss, oh oh, oh.”
It was a long, slow orgasm, but I was part of it. As she subsided, she let go of my head and relaxed her thighs. I slid up so that we were face-to-face. Slowly her eyes opened and we kissed, delicately. I pushed back the wet hair from her face and kissed away the sweat.
“That was so nice, so very nice. Thank you, Peter.”
“Want to do more?” I said.
“Can we? Oh yes, yes.”
“Your hair is so long, Carol, so soft, it smells so sweet,” I said, and balled it up and buried my face in it.
“I can draw pictures in the hair on your chest.”
I had Carol position herself for doggie style. I moved behind her, licked my index finger, and began to play with her clit. She grabbed my pretty flaccid cock and swished it through her pubic hair.
Then I slowly laid her hair out along her spine as she sighed and said “mmmm.”
I gathered myself up against her ass and started to push my semi-hard cock toward her. Carol giggled as I missed her opening, not once but twice, and finally grabbed my cock, which completed its hardening. She held it in position as I slowly moved into her and she inhaled deeply, wiggled her ass, and adjusted herself to me. I thrust forward and was fully inside her.
“That was absolutely painless. It feels really good. Let’s go really slow, okay?”
“Slow is us. You are so nice, so tight around me. I love the feeling of your warm pussy directly on my cock.”
I reached tuzla escort for her clit and found it out and ready. I knew how sensitive it was and what playing with it would do for her, so I slowed down my already slow thrusting and focused on it. After a few minutes she started pushing up against me and said “that’s so nice. You’re at both ends. Can you put more pressure on my clitty?” I worked it harder, keeping my cock still. She began a slow rhythmic pressing back against me, so I started meeting it with my thrust. I was beginning to lose control when she bucked so hard my cock came out of her.
“Put it back in, Peter! Please, please!”
We each grabbed my cock and it was back to its rightful place in one thrust. Her humping got more frenzied. This time I held her waist tighter and reached for her clit, but the orgasm washed over her before I got there. Then I came with a rush, and soon we collapsed in a heap.
As I got soft we shifted so we were on our sides. “You are really a wonderful lover, Carol,” I said, hoping she would react in some way: laugh, or smile, or say something. Her words came slowly, but she didn’t choke up.
“My roommate’s been fucking since junior high school. I was really shocked at her promiscuity. She explained that she had come to know her own needs not only from fucking but also by playing with herself. She showed me how to do it and I’ve been masturbating ever since.
“I didn’t want to have sex in the same way she did, but she convinced me that I should at least fool around with guys to get some sense of what I liked. I did fool around with a couple of guys before I met Steve. I gave him handjobs and even a blowjob and he fingered me.”
After a long pause she asked, plaintively, “Why do you think he did that?”
“Maybe he was afraid of what was going to happen. When I had my first chance, I couldn’t get an erection. Second time too. My girlfriend was convinced I was queer and dumped me. It took a long time before it actually happened.”
We lay quietly for a while.
“I owe you an explanation for my behavior, Peter. While you were getting my bags from Steve’s room, I decided that I had to get him out of my mind. You deserved better than what I did to you, but I did what I did. As far as I am concerned, Steve should drown in his own vomit. Now I want to move on. Can we fuck again?”
I thought about my sore cock, then looked at my alarm clock. It was past 3. “How about we renew our energy with some pancakes and syrup?”
“The church across the street runs a free pancake breakfast. It’s part of the spring weekend tradition. It starts at 3.”
“Just like the submarine races?”
I blushed. “You’ll see. Let’s go.”
She fit a pair of my pants well enough and looked good in a sweatshirt, so we walked across the street to the church’s community building. There must have been thirty couples and a bunch of singles there, chowing down.
Only a few showed the effects of a lot of drinking, but one of them was Steve, who I spotted across the room. He started to come toward us but his roommate grabbed his arm and steered him to the juice line. Carol didn’t see him and we each finished a big stack, chasing it with cold milk. She used the women’s bathroom and we headed back to the dorm.
We fell asleep in each other’s arms. Around 7 we woke and made very sweet love. Afterward we took a chance and showered together. We had to make a run for it when two guys came into the bathroom and saw Carol in my bathrobe with her hair in a towel.
We got dressed and went to the dining hall for breakfast. I kept the conversation general as we didn’t seem to have much in common. The bus for Holyoke left at 1 p.m. Carol turned on the stairs of the bus and blew me a kiss. I blew one back.
On Wednesday I got a letter:
Thank you so much for rescuing a damsel in distress. I will always remember the guy who took me to the submarine races and the pancake breakfast.
Ours is a shipboard romance. I will always cherish it, but like all such romances it must come to an end.
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