Chapter 2
Connie wished the bus wasn't so crowded, wished she had the seat entirely to herself. Or that she could turn her mind off. Maybe that would still the awful, itching hunger in her cunt. If she could just stop thinking about Paul, about how he had looked with the early-morning sun spilling over his naked body, his drained cock dangling heavily, his pubic bush matted from their hours of fucking.
She shifted restlessly, squirming her ass on the hard seat. She stared out at the telephone poles rushing past the window. It was warm in the bus, or at least she was warm. A hot flush was burning her cheeks, bringing beads of sweat to her smooth forehead. Twisting and turning, she shed the jacket of her pantsuit. Her rounded tits strained against the soft, white, clinging sweater she was wearing. As she draped the jacket across her lap, she darted a nervous glance at her seatmate. He appeared to be dead to the world. His head was lolling. His seat was reclined as far as he could get it. One of his long legs sprawled out into the aisle. The knee of the other was jammed against the seat in front. His hands lay limply in his lap.
Connie let her head fall back and squirmed her ass again. She remembered the feeling of Paul's cock inside her. Her mint felt hot and wet and empty. Nibbling nervously on her lower lip, she slipped her right hand slowly under her jacket and pressed her fingers into the humid hollow between her soft, round thighs. The touch sent a wave of pleasure and anticipation coursing through her. Slowly, careful not to let it show, she rubbed the soft yielding flesh below the hard arch of her pubic bone. Through her slacks and panties she felt the hot hollow of the entrance to her cunt. Pressing her fingers against her cunt mound, she pressed on her clitoris, squeezed it against her pubic arch. She remembered the feel of Paul's weight on her, the feel of his hard thighs between her soft ones. The itch in her cunt grew. She recalled how it felt to have a big, hard cock sliding in and out of her aroused pussy. The crotch of her slacks was getting damp and sticky. Panting softly, she rubbed her cunt harder. Her eyes closed as she tried to recapture every nuance of the night on the golf course. Her nipples ached and burned at the memory of how they had been teased and tormented by Paul's fingers, tweaked and twisted and tugged at until they were so swollen they hurt. Her nipples were fully erect now, and she suddenly, belatedly, remembered she wasn't wearing a bra. Cautiously, she glanced down at herself. Her aroused tits were plainly visible. The sharp nubbins thrust out from the soft roundness of her breasts. She glanced up, and decided that the bus driver's view was cut off by the seats in front of her. Then she sneaked a look over toward her seatmate again. His head had rolled so he was facing in her direction, but his eyes were closed, and he was snoring softly.
She felt a surge of relief, and tried to take her hand away from her steaming cunt. But then her mind went back to Paul and the memory of her first fuck, and the itch in her cunt was back, worse than ever. She tried to tell herself that it was hunger for Paul, and Paul only, but the lie fell flat. She was just plain horny. It was a word she had never truly understood until now, one she had never used. It was the only one that described her condition. She was horny, and while Paul was the origin of her problem, she couldn't quite make herself believe that he was the only one who could cure it. If she didn't do something to scratch the itch, she'd be easy prey to the first male that made a move in her direction. She started rubbing her cunt again under the jacket, but it wasn't enough, wasn't filling enough. And there was too much between her fingers and her flesh.
Very carefully, she eased the front zipper of her slacks down and squirmed her hand inside her pants. Since the waist was still fastened, they were too tight through the crotch to let her get more than a fingertip where she wanted it. Alter carefully spreading the jacket to cover more of her midsection; Connie unbuttoned the waist of the tight pants. The thought of what she was doing, right there on the bus, with a strange man sitting beside her, made her heart flutter. It also increased her itching lust. She shifted awkwardly to ease her slacks down far enough to give herself access to her cunt. That should be enough. She wouldn't need to get completely inside of her flimsy panties. She pressed the hot, damp nylon into her sweating cunt slit, and the pleasure and the itch both increased. Her breathing was ragged and heavy. Her nipples were blazing from the light friction of the soft sweater. By pressing her finger along the length of her furrow, she was able to press the material of her panties into her wet cunt a little way, and put more pressure on her clit and her inner cunt lips.
She rubbed, and the fire in her pussy built higher and higher. But then it leveled out. She hovered there, halfway to the glittering release she needed so desperately. Her ass shifted and rubbed and twisted as she fought to build her lust higher. God! It wasn't enough, it wasn't enough. She had to get farther into her cunt, somehow. Could she possibly do it without getting caught?
She looked down at her lap again. She ignored the impertinent boldness of her tits and studied the situation. Her jacket reached from her waist to halfway down her thighs. Her right hand was hidden under it. Her left lay casually on top of the blue double-knit jacket. There really wasn't any visible sign of what she was doing to herself. Experimentally, she moved the hand in her cunt. She couldn't see any motion. Suddenly she noticed that there was a bulge in the trousers of the youth beside her, and froze. Holding her breath, she looked nervously over at him. His eyes were closed, his expression smooth and untroubled. What was it Paul had told her once? Something about "wet dreams"? He said he had dreamed about her and had cum in his sleep one night. Must be the boy next to her was dreaming about his girl, she decided. She couldn't stop now, anyway. She was too horny to stop. She had to get some kind of release from the excruciating hunger or she was going to die! She wondered what the erect cock of the guy next to her looked like. She thought about Paul's-ivory-shafted, dusky-capped, ribbed with veins, powerful-and her cunt drooled into her panties. Working very cautiously, she eased her panties down around her hips, baring her pussy, feeling the plastic seat, already warmed by her body, sticking to her bare ass. Her fingers teased through her wiry pubic curls, and into the soft wetness of her slit. Flames lashed through her as she touched the erect, slippery pearl of her clit. She spread her legs, raised one knee, and rested her foot on the metal footrest bar. Her other leg was straight, the foot thrust under the seat ahead. The bus rushed on down the highway, speeding past rolling farmland. Her head turned toward the window, Connie stared blindly at the scenery as she rolled the slick nubbin of nerves into a knot of pure pleasure. She caught a fleeting glimpse of a barn, a fenced farmyard, and two houses. Searing excitement slashed through her as the bus slowed and stopped for a railroad crossing. The stallion was heaving himself up on the back of the other horse-it had to be a mare. The sight of the stallion mounting the mare was more than Connie could take. She ripped her eyes away from the horses as the bus jolted across the railroad tracks and picked up speed again.
Her eyes turned to the other side, to the lap of the man next to her, and her body froze with shock. His jacket was spread over his lap. One hand was hidden under it. There was a slowly shifting lump beneath the cloth that could mean only one thing. He was masturbating! He wasn't asleep! But he couldn't be aware of what she was doing; could he? She'd been very, very careful.
She glanced at his face fearfully. His eyes were open, glittering with knowledge and excitement. He smiled slyly, and Connie's heart sank. Obviously, he did know. She opened her mouth to say something, but held her tongue when he lifted one finger to his lips, shushing her. Curious, Connie waited. She wondered what he had in mind. Despite her fear and confusion, she still had that fiery hunger in her cunt. He was good-looking, with dark curly hair and sharp blue eyes that had a friendly twinkle. He was eighteen or so, and fairly neatly dressed. He slid his hand out from under his jacket and reached for her wrist. She started to resist, then let him ease her hand under his jacket. She was driven by curiosity and lust, even though she was also scared. Her fingertips touched something hot and hard, and burning stickiness clung to her skin. She curled her fingers around his hard, hot, throbbing cock. Just touching the powerful shaft of flesh sent her hunger soaring higher than ever. She tried to think of Paul, but all she could think of was the cock in her hand. Fingertips touched the tender bare skin of her belly near the wing of her hip, and crept slowly toward the steaming heart of her cunt. She did nothing to stop them. She let her hand be pushed aside, and the world swirled around her as gentle fingers touched the button of her clit, then pressed into her slick, seething cunt lips. She pumped her hand on the towering cock in her hand, and a sticky wave of juice stung her fingers, flowed down between her flesh and his. At the same time, she felt a hot flood pour from her starving cunt and wash over the finger plunging into her rippling pussy. The walls of her slippery cunt clutched the invading finger desperately. Her hips twisted and shifted restlessly on the bus seat. Her asscheeks stuck to, then, stingingly, pulled loose from the plastic upholstery.
The finger pumped in her dripping cunt as her clit was being twisted and rolled against her pubic arch. Her lust was soaring higher and higher and higher, but she had the awful feeling that a finger wasn't going to be enough. She had been treated to cock, and a finger wasn't enough any more. But how could she do it? How could she do it here, in public, on a speeding, crowded bus? How could she do it with a complete stranger? How could she be unfaithful to Paul after such a short separation? She'd promised to be faithful to him.
A second finger slid into her hot, wet cunt, and her fears, worries, questions and reservations were all burned away by the blistering fireball of lust that exploded through her. Her hips heaved upward involuntarily as her desire roared higher. Her grip on the cock tightened, milking yet another wave of juices from it.
The boy pushed gently on her hip with his free hand. She got the idea, and rolled on her side toward the window the way he wanted her to. Carefully, she shifted the jacket so it kept her covered. She risked a quick glance at the seat across the aisle. The couple there was oblivious to everyone else. Tangled in a warm, loving embrace, they slept away the long trip. Then Connie was staring unseeingly out at the countryside again, and feeling her panties and slacks being eased down around her thighs. Under the concealing jacket, her ass was completely exposed. She clung to the cock in her hand like it was a life preserver. She kept her attention on the fingers still stirring her cunt to a hot pool of searing lust as the boy behind her shifted on his seat, rolled to his side, and moved in closer and closer behind her.
The head of his cock probed into her from behind, wedged through the tight crevice of her thighs. She spread them slightly and steered the hot cock to its target; the hot wet nest of her cunt opening. The boy slid his fingers out of her hole and pressed them against her clitoris. With his cockhead set securely in the entrance to her pussy, Connie released her grip on his prick and curled herself tighter, awaiting the first thrust into her aching cunt.
He molded himself to her back, and, from behind, his prick bored into her, stuffing her pussy, stilling the hunger that had been raging through her. He squirmed his free hand around her and caressed and petted her tits through the thin, clinging sweater. He rammed his cock into her with a continuous steady drive until his hips jammed up against her ass, pressed warmly against her asscheeks. She could feel the sharp hardness of his belt buckle digging into her soft flesh. He hadn't even lowered his trousers, only opened his fly to release his towering cock. Now he had the full, hard bulk of his prick rammed full depth into her cunt. She loved it as and was amazed at the marvelous fullness in her body, as she held on while waiting for the final explosive release. He began to move, sliding his swollen cock in and out of her aroused body. Her pleasure raged higher and higher. He skillfully rolled her clitoris until it was a searing knot of pure pleasure. He clutched her warm tits, massaging first one and then the other until her nipples were aching to be free. Then suddenly he pushed her sweater up until her tits burst free, into the cool air, totally available to the hot, insistent grasp of his strong hand.
She was cumming! She was rising to a glittering orgasm as the bus sped dawn the highway through the bright June afternoon. Surrounded by unknowing people, she was being fucked by a total stranger, and she was having an incredible orgasm. Her cunt was drowning the cock pistoning in it. With Paul barely a few hours behind her, and her first fuck less than two days back, she was giving herself totally to this stranger, and loving every quaking convulsion of her searing pleasure.
He was fucking her from behind the way the stallion had been going to fuck the mare. His cock pistoned in and out of her cunt with a soft, sticky, wet sound that she was certain everyone in the bus could hear. The smell of sex pooled thickly between the seats. She didn't see how those sitting near them could possibly be oblivious to the musky aroma. She loved the feel of the big cock sliding in and out, in and out of her clutching cunt. The jolting, jouncing of the bus stirred the heavy prick in her pussy, adding to her excitement. The motion of the bus shook the fingers on her cunt, the hand on her tits. He moved faster and faster in her sticky hole, and her lust boiled still higher. Her orgasm continued, seeming to build and build and build and build. Then he powered the full depth into her, sheathed his cock in her to the hilt, and she felt it pulsing in her clenched pussy channel. She felt his hot, sticky cum spurt into her hungry depths, and her orgasm climbed a notch higher, and her cunt spasmed and milked his jetting cock as he unloaded into her ravaged body.
"Oh, dear God!" she moaned as ecstasy devoured her completely, then left her drained and aching and exhausted and satisfied and horrified, all at the same time. She stayed curled in a tight ball, and was grateful that the man behind her held onto to her and protected her from anyone else's prying eyes.
When he finally did pull his shriveling cock out of her, she felt empty and cold inside. She heard his zipper being pulled up and goaded her aching muscles into a sitting position. Mutely, she dragged her panties and slacks up and fastened them. Then she relaxed with her jacket was still over her lap.
"Jerry Peterson," the boy who had just fucked her announced, sticking his right hand out.
Connie ignored it for a moment and then took it reluctantly. "Uh, Connie Chandler," she said stupidly.
"Jansen College, advanced placement, right?" he asked. "Uh-huh," Connie didn't want to talk to him, really, but why shouldn't she? She'd just fucked him, after all. What else could happen between them? "How did you know?"
"Only reason a girl like you would be on this bus. God knows there's nothing else at the end of the ride to bring you out here. I go to Jansen, too. Went away for the day."
Connie looked him over. "Aren't you a bit old for the advanced placement program?" she asked.
Jerry smiled. "I'm a junior doing some summer work. You're young for college, aren't you?"
"Uh-seventeen," Connie lied, adding better than a year. "Not that young."
"Got a roommate yet?" Jerry asked, not contesting her defensive answer.
"No... Guess I'll just have to take what I get."
"Won't have too much choice I'm afraid," Jerry observed.
"Why not?"
"Well, you're a week late."
"How do you know I'm a week late? How do you know I wasn't away for the day, too?"
"You've got a suitcase. And I know all the pretty girls. Anyway, as I was saying, you're a week late, and things are fairly well settled already. The administration doesn't like to open up any more dorms than they have to. This year they're just keeping one open and cramming everyone in there."
"Everyone?" Connie asked.
"Upperclassmen and underclassmen, boys and girls, everyone in one big pot," Jerry elaborated. "Just one big family." "I-I'd sort of expected that," Connie said nervously.
"I'm in 302;..look me up if you ever need anything. Anything at all!" Connie was taken aback by the blatant proposition. "Now look, just because you caught me by surprise, don't think I'm going to-to. . . well, I'm not." Jerry shrugged. "You were horny. I was horny. All God's children get horny. Just keep in mind, the offer's open if you change your mind." Connie grunted noncommittally and stared out the window. Feeling the delicious after-ache of sex, she wondered what had gotten into her to let him fuck her like that, so quickly and casually. She hadn't even known his name until after it was all over. Well, it wouldn't go any farther than that! She was not going to look him up. She hoped she never saw him again. She had promised Paul and she was going to keep that promise from here on.
The wet stickiness in her panties kept reminding her of what she had done. The seemingly endless bus ride went on and on and on. Jerry dropped off to sleep.
The dorm was deserted when Connie got there. All the doors were closed. Only the mutter of a distant radio disturbed the quiet of the hot, muggy afternoon. She tapped shyly on the door of her room before unlocking it with the key she had picked up at the student housing office. The door opened on a sunlit room about fifteen feet square. The curtains hung heavily in the motionless air. The furniture consisted of two beds, two dressers, two desks and chairs, two inexpensive easy chairs, and wall-to-wall carpeting as dull, unyielding and harsh as it was durable. Her roommate had already settled in. There was no sign of the trunk she had sent ahead, and she was dismayed to see that the remaining bed was bare. There wasn't even a mattress pad to protect her from the buttons, half of which were edge-up at the end of their strings. With a grunt, she hefted the single suitcase she had brought with her onto the bed. Sweat was pouring down her face. Her sweater was glued to her. She stripped off her jacket and hung it up, noting idly that her roommate seemed to have no clothes at all. She resisted the urge to snoop in the dresser on the other side of the room.
A glimpse of herself in the mirror made Connie pause. She was so soaked with sweat that the thin, sleeveless sweater hid nothing. It was pasted to her. She stripped it up and off with a sigh of relief. Her skin reveled in being free of the gummy knit. Then she decided to go farther and peeled off her slacks. In panties only, she finished unpacking the few things she had brought.
She stood in front of the mirror and studied herself critically. She seemed to have at last shed the baby fat that had plagued her for so long. What was left was nice round curves; womanly and interesting and graceful. Her tits just filled a C-cup bra and her hips equaled her thirty-five inch bust measurement. Her waist was a trim twenty-four inches making her figure quite nice.
She noticed the wet stain on her panties, and remembered abruptly what had happened on the bus. She felt soiled just thinking about it, and decided to shower. She had no towel or robe, since both were in the missing trunk. But she had to get clean somehow. She couldn't stand her own smell. Her panties kept crawling up into her crotch. Their sticky wetness was a continual reminder of her moment of weakness. Angrily, she stripped them off and got out the old white shirt of her father's she usually wore with her jeans. The tails of it flapped around her knees. The hallway was as empty as before. She searched for the bathroom. She was surprised that there seemed to be only one on the floor. She decided the boys had to go up one flight or down one. Connie gazed curiously at the urinals along one wall and then shrugged. Obviously, it had been a boys' dorm before it went coed.
A few minutes in the shower had cooled her off in one way and warmed her up in another. Her senses were all hyperactive. The touch of her hands on her body made her glitteringly aware of the softness of her flesh, the slickness of her skin. Her nipples peaked instantly when her soap-slick palms glided over her warm, yielding tits. Her whole body loved the feel of her hands on it, and her hands loved the feel of her body. Battling down her sexual excitement, Connie soaped her cunt carefully, trying to wash away the cum inside and outside. Her bush was small and compact, the light-red hair soft and fuzzy. She was quivering with horniness and had to battle to keep from massaging the soft, slippery nubbin of her clitoris with her soapy finger. Forcing her hand away from that nerve point, she briskly lathered her graceful legs where there was some slight stubble from shaving two days ago. Finally, she twisted and turned under the cool spray to rid her flesh of the soap. The needle jets of water stung her aroused tits and made them swell even more.
Finally she shut off the water, and silence engulfed her. It was broken only by the sound of the water streaming off her body and trickling down the drain. Since there was no towel, she had to just wait until the air dried her. She stayed in the shower stall in order to keep the bathroom floor from getting soaked. She leaned casually against one cool wall, and opened the shower curtain to let some air in.
The sound of the neighboring shower going on jerked her awake from a half-doze. She was almost dry, and started to step out of the shower, then darted back frantically. A naked boy was standing at one of the urinals. He finished, flushed, then turned and walked to the shower stall, all without noticing Connie. His gaze was on the shower where the water was running. His cock rose and stiffened dramatically as he walked. Then there was the sound of a girl's voice over the noise of the water, and Connie's heart skipped a beat. That explained the boy's hard-on, at least, but raised other questions. Connie had thought that she had made a mistake and was in the men's bathroom, but the sounds coming from the neighboring shower killed that idea quickly. There were mumblings, mutterings and sighs. The girl moaned sensuously while the boy chuckled, and Connie's guts knotted up and her cunt began to drool in frustration. There was a soggy thud that sounded like a bar of soap being dropped. It was followed by a shrill squeal from the girl, a deep laugh from the boy, and then a throbbing moan from the girl, which slashed straight through Connie. Her mind conjured up wild visions of what was going on in the neighboring stall. Everything she imagined increased her already blazing lust. The soap had dropped, the girl had bent over to pick it up, and then. . . What?
The girl was whimpering now, and the boy was panting. Connie thought she was going to melt into a helpless puddle and disappear down the drain. There was a soft, wet, squishing sound that she had to strain her ears to hear. There was the soft smack of flesh against flesh, and it was in the same rhythm as the whimpering and the panting. God! They were doing it! Right there, in the shower, they were fucking! Just the sound of it was enough to drive Connie mad. The longer it went on, the more she listened and tried to visualize it. Having seen the boy made it easier than it otherwise would have been. But it was too much for her. She had to get out, somehow, some way, no matter what! Her shirt was clear across the bathroom from the showers. On shaking legs, her bare toes clutching the hard tile floor, she dashed to her shirt. She was conscious of her tits jiggling, of cool air touching the dripping part of her aroused cunt. She tried not to, but couldn't stop herself. She turned and looked in the direction of the showers. Her eyes widened when she saw that the curtain wasn't drawn. Locked in a carnal embrace were the boy she had seen, and a slender, very pretty, black-haired girl. The girl was pressed back against the shower wall. Her arms were around the boy's neck, and her legs were around his waist. His cock disappeared into her black cuntal bush. Her full tits were squashed flat between them. Their lips were locked in an open-mouthed, devouring kiss. The whimpers and moans were silenced by their mouths. They wrenched their mouths apart, and Connie saw that they were straining against each other, crotch against crotch. As she watched, a single, heavy, pearly drop drooled down one of the boy's muscular thighs. Then Connie saw that the couple's eyes were open, and focused right on her! Mortified, she frantically struggled into the shirt. Wrapping it defensively around her burning, naked flesh, she whirled, and fled. Engraved on her mind was the sight of the interlocked couple, and the expressions on their faces when they had seen her. There was surprise, true. But, more than that, there was pleasure-pride, even-and hot excitement that made Connie's guts boil.
She ran through the empty, echoing hallway to her room, and slammed and locked the door behind her. Shuddering, she leaned back against the door. Her legs threatened to give way. She staggered across to her bed and slumped down weakly.
She buried her face in her hands, and tried desperately to force her mind away from what she had seen. She could see the sleek texture of the girl's skin, a smooth and flawless contrast to the muscular, lean hardness of the boy's body. She could see him walking from the urinal to the shower, his cock swelling, straining upward, swaying heavily with each step. She could see body pressed tight against body, crotch jammed down against groin, tits mashed against chest. She could see the girl's pretty face as she kissed and sucked the boy's mouth. Their skin had gleamed with water and sweat.
Connie could see the single, thick, creamy glob of cum slithering slowly down the boy's powerful, hairy leg. Lust boiled through her like lava. With a soft whimper, she rolled over on the bed, let the shirt spread open and expose her nude body, all pale and pink. Her hand found one of her lush tits and she stroked her thumb over her aroused, rubbery nipple. Her other hand slid down her rounded tummy. Her fingers combed through her springy, strawberry muff. She pressed her longest finger deep into the steaming, slippery heart of her ravenous cunt.
Her eyes closed, the air warm on her bare flesh, she sent her lust soaring higher and higher. She toyed with first one tit and then the other. She squeezed, feeling the soft flesh yield to her hard grip. She felt her hot, sticky juices coat her probing finger, felt her finger spread the rippled walls of her oozing pussy. She tried to pretend it was Paul's hand on her tits, Paul's finger in her cunt.
It wasn't quite working though. Her mind couldn't make it real enough. All she was managing to do was make her hunger worse than ever. She slipped a second finger into her soaked cunt, and wiggled them both in her slick sheath. She pressed the heel of her hand to her cunt, ground it flat against her bone, which only made her more conscious of the lack of a hard, heavy body on hers, and that no monster cock was cramming her cunt to the bursting point, no muscular chest was crushing her tits into her chest.
A hard, heavy, strong hand pressed down on the tit she was not massaging, and her excitement surged upward. She was delirious with lust, and the touch on her tit was the fulfillment of her dreams. Demanding fingers pinched and twisted the rosy nipple and searing flames slashed through her writhing, nearly naked body. The shirt was spread open around her on the bed. Her legs were spread, her knees bent. Her hips were rolling slowly and gently as she pumped her hand on her throbbing cunt. Fingers touched her wrist, forced her hand away from her crotch, forced her to expose her strawberry bush, the protruding pink petals of her aroused cunt lips. Then a heavy, strong finger was drilling deeper into her cunt than her own dainty one could probe, and her hips surged up in welcome. Her eyes closed, Connie writhed on the bed. Her head rolling, she rose higher into the delirium of lust.
She didn't open her eyes for fear that she would discover that it was all unreal, a product of her fevered horniness. It couldn't be real, this magical stimulation. She was alone in the room. She had locked the door, and only she and her roommate had keys, and her roommate was supposed to be a girl (she had carefully asked when she picked up her key) and these were not a girl's hands on her body, so it had to be unreal. But as long as she kept her eyes shut it would be as good as real and she could let it all go on and on and on until she obtained the release she needed so badly. All she had to do was imagine that the logical next step was being taken with her willing body.
So, she imagined it.
And it began to happen. The hand in her cunt left, but the hand on her tit didn't. A heavy body pressed against her, and she felt the hot length of a cock lying against one of her thighs. Then a heavy body was easing over hers, and she was being crushed into the bed. She spread her thighs and made a cradle. A cock nuzzled her overheated pussy and she squirmed. Her cunt lips were being pried open, and her tits were being mangled by the weight on top of her.
The cock poked into her, prying her open, dilating the gates to her cunt. The hips humped, rolling and grinding her clitoris as the cock was thrust deeper with a slow, pumping motion.
Reaching up over her head, Connie clenched her fingers around the steel pipes of the bed frame, so she wouldn't be tempted to try to wrap her arms around the nonexistent man fucking her. The action stretched her torso, arched her ribs and ground her chest harder against the imaginary one crushing her into the bed. She humped her hips and welcomed another inch of cock into her cunt. She spread her feet wider apart, bent her knees more, and heaved her pelvis up. Cock rammed deeper into her, and her cunt fountained its joy over the cramming bulk.
Someone was panting and whining. The room was filled with the marvelous perfume of sex. It could only be from her, the panting and the whining and the smell of sex. But, when she whined, she still heard the panting, and that wasn't possible, was it? But it didn't matter, because she was going to cum. She was going to cum! She felt the marvelous fireball growing and growing like a balloon. It kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger. Eventually it was going to burst and send its fragments screaming out through her whole body. That was all that mattered right now. Trying to get the balloon to explode, she urged the cock deeper into her cunt, urged that her cunt be mashed, that her tits be crushed and her ribs bent. She hoped the whole thing would somehow come together into that pulsing, flaring, pumping starburst that was so unbelievable and so good and so wonderful. And the final triggering step, she knew, would be to have that imaginary cock in her cunt erupt. When she imagined that thick, heavy tower convulsing and jerking and spurting into her seething depths, she would explode into a fireball of pure pleasure. She clenched her cunt around the pistoning prick, and then it was happening. The hard cock was drilling clear through her body. It was jerking and thrashing in her hot, wet embrace, and thick, creamy spurts of jism were pumping into her, and she was cumming and cumming and cumming in an endless series of orgasmic waves that swept her away in a flickering haze of pleasure. And then it was over and her mind gradually sorted everything out. Suddenly it was all incredibly, hideously, unbelievably real! The body on hers was real! The cock in her cunt was real! The weight crushing her into the mattress was real! The hot breath on her cheek was real! The thick cum pooling in her cunt was real!
"Oh, God, it can't be," Connie moaned from the depths of her being. She opened her eyes reluctantly, and twisted her head, and tried to see the face of the person on her. It was a total stranger. "Who are you?" she moaned, terrified.
The boy pushed up and looked down at her. He was young, but older than she was. He was handsome with blonde hair and blue eyes, but she had never seen him before in her life! And his cock was still inside her body, shrinking slowly, leaving its load behind.
"Carl Anderson," the boy answered. "At your service. I'm your roommate."
"Please," Connie begged, trying to retain her sanity. "Please, get off me."
Carl rolled off and lay on his side next to the wall, and studied her. Connie pulled the shirt around her, then covered her face with her hands and tried to keep from screaming.
"You okay?" he asked, worried.
Connie shook her head.
"Look," Carl said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do anything to upset you. But I came in the room and there you were playing with yourself, so I undressed and started fucking you.
"It can't be real," Connie moaned. "I'm supposed to have a girl for a roommate and you're certainly not a girl!"
"No," Carl acknowledged easily. "But your assigned roommate is shacking up with my assigned roommate. I had to sleep somewhere, didn't I?" Connie looked over at him, and surveyed his naked body. His cock was limp and drained. She noticed his pubic patch was almost the same shade as hers. "Would you get off my bed, please and put something on?" she asked. "Right." He climbed over her and pulled on his shorts, then sat down in one of the easy chairs. "Better?"
Connie nodded. She sat up, carefully keeping the shirt pulled around her modestly. "What am I going to do?" she moaned. "Look, I'm sorry," Carl apologized. "If I'd had any idea you didn't want what I gave you, I wouldn't have given it to you." "You'll have to move out," Connie said abruptly.
Carl stared at her. "Where to?"
"Into another room."
Carl took his head. "Not possible. This damn dorm is as tightly packed as a condom on King Kong."
"Then I'll move out!" Connie snapped.
"And sleep in the hall? Look-uh, whatever your name is...
"Connie."
"Connie, there is no room anywhere else."
"I don't understand."
"The rooms are built for two. Every room is filled but this one. Clear?"
Connie remained stubbornly silent. She didn't know what to say. "You're stuck with me. Everyone else is paired off. You are a week late, after all." Carl went on, "if you want some ground rules to protect your obviously nonexistent virginity, I'll be happy to go along. You want me to keep hands off; I'll keep hands off. It is possible for people to be friends without going to bed together, if that's what's worrying you." "Oh, yeah, sure," Connie snorted.
"It'd be a strain, I'll admit. You might hear my bed squeaking in the night while I jerk off, but if that's the way you want it, I'll do it. I need a place to sleep and to study, and so do you. We don't have to use the room for anything more than that."
"You sure?" Connie was still dubious.
"I'm sure," he answered firmly, reassuringly. "I won't do anything unless you come right out and ask me to."
"I won't. So don't get your hopes up."
"Suit yourself. You're a pretty girl. If you change your mind, I'd be happy to oblige."
"I won't. Now, would you get out so I can get dressed?" Carl shook his head. "We're going to be sharing this room for at least two months, so modesty is impossible. Besides that; the bathrooms are all coed."
"Geez!" Connie grunted as if she had been punched in the belly. Obviously, there was going to be an unlimited amount of seeing and being seen in the dorm. Carl seemed nonchalant about it, so she decided to try to be the same. She knew he was watching her as she pulled on her panties and jeans. It looked like it was going to be a long, hot summer.