Huddles and Harmonies (part 3)

Pt 1

Pt 2

5

Turnover

Chapter Rating: NC-17 (sexy dreams, light dom/sub overtones, lot of self-pleasure, sexual frustration)

TW: mention of slurs

I was naked and on my knees on the bed while he circled around, taking me in. He stood before me, sweeping his hands up my thighs, to my hips, briefly cupping my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples enough to make me shiver. Desire heated my blood and belly like a shot of liquor.

“So beautiful, lass.” he whispered, caressing my face. “You gonna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, sir.” I told him obediently.

He undid his belt and the buttons and zips of his jeans. They dropped to his feet, revealing navy blue boxers tented by his large erection. He stroked himself through the fabric. My mouth watered. He lowered the boxers enough to free his weeping cock. He was already dripping.

“You want a taste, sweet girl?” he asked, his voice laced with sin.

“Yes, sir.” I begged.

“Open for me.”

I opened my mouth and soon felt his length slide across my tongue. I wrapped my lips around him, licking the velvety skin greedily. I moaned at the taste of him. His hand played in my hair. I looked up at him with heavily lidded eyes. His hips rocked, gently sliding his cock through my lips. He was guarded in his movements, not wanting to overwhelm me and make me gag. He was domineering, but not cruel.

“Gorgeous girl. Your mouth feels so good. You like my cock in your mouth, lass?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

I nodded with a moan.

“Such a good girl for me…” he muttered. “Touch yourself, sweetheart. You deserve it.”

I slipped my hand between my thighs, stroking my clit. His eyes followed my movements. I played with myself, breathing heavily through my nose. I slid two fingers into myself and fucked them while he watched, enraptured. His cock slipped from my mouth. I fought the urge to whine at the loss.

“How wet are you, lass?” he asked me.

“Really wet. Soaking.” I told him.

“Give me a taste, love.”

I transferred my fingers to his lips. He sucked my moisture off the digits and I bit my lip to keep from moaning. His emerald eyes were clouded with lust, the pupils dilated.

“Lie back , love.” he commanded.

Excitedly, I lay down on the bed.

“Open your legs as far as you can, let me see all of you.”

I hooked my hands behind my knees, spreading myself wide for him. I could see my own glistening pink pussy, swollen and drenched in arousal. He kneeled down on the floor, kissing my inner thighs.

“So bloody gorgeous. I’m gonna eat your pussy, but you’re not allowed to come until I say.” he instructed. “You understand?”

“Yes, sir…” I halfway moaned in anticipation.

My head fell back as his tongue swept through my folds. It was exquisite torture as his lower face delved into my pussy, lapping at me like he was starving. I fought the urge to thrust upwards toward his face and weave my fingers through his hair. I cried out as he tongued my clit, sucking on it. Oh, there was no way I would last. He was too good at this.

“Sir…oh, please…” I groaned roughly. “May I come? Please?”

“In a bit. Don’t worry, sweet girl, you’ll get rewarded. Be a good girl. You taste so sweet, lass. Could eat you for hours.” he whispered against my folds, giving me a devilish grin.

Oh, God, I hope he didn’t keep me like this for hours. I felt ready to explode. But I was determined not to disappoint him. He teased me for five to ten minutes, my resolve dwindling the more time went by. Every time I thought I was going to come, he would ease back. He smiled at every one of my frustrated groans, as though begging me to complain. But I wanted to be good.

Finally, I felt his fingers slipping inside me.

“Come for me, beautiful girl…” he commanded, expertly stroking me inside while flickering his tongue over my clit. “Come all over my face, sweet girl.”

As though my orgasm was voice-activated, I broke, my entire body seizing under delicious, thigh-quaking pleasure.

I woke up in my new apartment bed, face down in my pillow. The ghost of the dream orgasm pulsed between my legs, satisfying nothing. Groaning with frustration, I slipped my hand down my pants and finished the job, screaming into the pillow in relief.

Apparently, I’m more into submissiveness than I thought. But that was only Dream Kirian. I had no baseline to assume he was into dominating in the real world. Well, he certainly dominated on the field. Maybe he was similar in bed. I definitely wasn’t into sadist stuff, but the thought of his Irish brogue ordering me what to do in bed sent shivers down my spine.

It had been surprisingly easy and quick to move in here over the weekend. Though it also made me wonder if someone was murdered in this apartment. We even had friendly gay neighbors who were students as well. Antonio and Bertie had thought we were a lesbian couple, but told them we were just best friends.

“Don’t look so disappointed, Bert.” Antonio admonished his boyfriend. “I’m sure you can find a lesbian friend at any Home Depot.”

They invited us over for dinner. Antonio was an excellent chef and we had the best tamales I had ever tasted.

I took in the sight of my new room. It was pretty bare bones. I only had my keyboard, sheet music collection, and a few photos of Miranda and pets we had growing up. I hardly wanted to return to Mom’s house which was more like a prison than a home. I know I had books and shelves I could take, but I wasn’t keen on the hundreds of questions I’d get about my new living arrangements.

“So, dorm life wasn’t good enough for you? Spoiled brat.”

“How are you paying for this? You got an AnyFans account like all these other sluts?”

“Why do you have a lockbox? What is in there that you have to keep secret? You doing drugs?”

I would never, ever tell her about this place. That information would have to be tortured out of me.

Trish’s room had quite a few objects that scandalized me. Where the hell was she hiding a sex swing in the dorms? Thankfully, she also had soundproofing acoustic panels so I didn’t hear anything she was doing. Or who she was doing. She tended to prefer women, and the few men she deemed decent weren’t the type to prey on other women.

“Soooo, when you gonna invite Irish over and see how lucky his charms are?” Trish asked on Monday morning.

I nearly did a spittake of my orange juice. I glared at her.

“You know, some people date first before they sleep together.” I said, spooning oatmeal into my mouth.

“Ugh, dating is ass.” she hissed, pouring herself more cornflakes. “I can’t stand the wining and dining. I rather have whining and eating, personally.” she added, mischievously.

I shook my head. “This isn’t a one-off fling. Kirian and I have…chemistry.”

“Darling, that’s pheromones. The sexual tension between you is thicker than your oatmeal. I’m giving it two weeks before you two are fucking.” Trish deadpanned. “And that’s me being generous.”

I rolled my eyes and washed my bowl and glass. I received a text message.

Kirian: hope you have a good day, lass. I can’t wait for tonight. [pink heart]

I swooned.

I just fucking swooned like a 1960s teenage girl going nuts over the Beatles.

Maybe Trish had a point. Our attraction to one another was too strong to deny, if that dream was any indication. But I couldn’t base real life on imagined scenarios. Too many people begin relationships with an idealized version of their partner and then get disappointed when the real thing doesn’t match the fantasy.

One thing I’d learned from my mom and dad’s crumbling marriage is that the perfect Mormon American family is a pipe dream. My sister and I were not going to complete something already breaking apart at the seams. God wasn’t going to appear on a cloud of pearlescent silk and bestow everlasting happiness with a baby. My mom blamed me for destroying her body, as though I was the one villainous sperm that sought to ruin her life.

I headed toward campus to English class. The walk was further than it had been from the dorms and it would be awful come winter, but it was nice out. Some sorority sisters were decorating the campus with felt bats and paper ghosts hung from the lampposts. Someone put a scarf and a beret on the Charlesburg Bear sculpture. There was a superstition where people touched the feet of the bear before exams and sports games. Sometimes I’d see frantic, overworked students sprinting across the quad to reach the bear, patting its feet, and then sprinting back to whatever building they were supposed to be in.

I arrived at the quad just as the gym was letting out. The procession of hunky jocks didn’t phase me anymore, having a particular taste for one jock.

And speak of the devil, he also exited the gym wearing only a pair of gray sweatpants.

Guh.

I would not survive.

I needed to avert my gaze far away. I needed to resist temptation or I would turn into a hormonal puddle of horny frustration.

I didn’t.

My fingertips itched with the desire to trace each line of his muscles. His pants were low-slung on his hips where I could see his V-lines and the sweatpants revealed how much he was packing. And man, he really had the luck of the Irish. I didn’t have any experience with men, though I had researched the male anatomy quite thoroughly online. I hadn’t liked the mainstream porn on popular sites, but there were videos of men servicing themselves. They were more scintillating and informative on what a man’s penis looked like and how they liked to be touched.

He suddenly saw me on the quad. I wondered if I had just been here gawking at him the whole time. He put his shirt back on (I tried not to pout) and hiked his gym bag higher on his shoulders, approaching me.

“Morning, lass.” he greeted me with a smile.

“Morning…” I mumbled, taking in his natural scent.

Forget two weeks, the smell of him made me want to fuck him next to the bear sculpture.

“May I walk you to class?” he offered, holding out his hand.

“Sure…” I agreed.

His hand clasped mine as we walked toward Winchester. People glanced at our joined hands briefly, some whispering to their friends. I guess this meant we were officially an item. A couple. Dating.

Our fingers laced together perfectly, like our hands were meant to fit one another. It was the cheesiest romance trope, but it also happened to be true. We didn’t hurry to class. We strolled, our interlocked hands swinging between us.

We arrived in class and sat together. He kissed my hand before taking his back to pull out his laptop. My heart fluttered. Oh, God, I was pathetic.

“Wrote a bit of a first chapter of the novella. It’s pretty rough, but I’m sure you could polish it off.” he said. “I’ll send it to you.”

I received the file and read through it.

Callum glanced back at Fiona, captivated by her whisky-brown eyes. Her blonde hair framed her angelic face perfectly and his heartbeat quickened upon seeing her smile. She was incredibly beautiful, enchanting Callum as though putting him under a spell.

My face burned. Was he describing me? It was well written. I didn’t know why he doubted his own abilities.

“Hmm, I think we should tell the story from two points of view.” I suggested.

KIARAN’S POV

I nodded, agreeing with her suggestion. My hand ached to grasp hers once more.

I was no better than Callum, getting distracted by her beauty. The first day I met her, I think I fell in love on the spot. She turned around and the rest of the room melted away. Her halo of blonde hair accentuated her freckled face. Her lush lips curved into a smile. She blushed as I greeted her, her small hand soft and warm within my own.

I remained chaste with her. I wasn’t going to be like my team members or those idiot fraternity prats around women. They chased after girls like a cartoon dog with his tongue all the way to the floor. I refused to get drunk with them. Going to see extended family in Dublin always discouraged me from the drink. I remembered nights of serving ale to my shitfaced uncles who cared more about the League of Ireland premier than their own wives. Mam grew tired of mothering them after Gran and Grand-Da died.

Still, I was a bloke. A heterosexual bloke with a fondness for blonde women and brown eyes. I couldn’t help but notice her curvy figure, the way her jeans perfectly molded to her arse. She stretched and I could see the pouch of her stomach. I loved a woman with extra curves.

Class ended before I knew it. I packed up and faced her. The smell of her shampoo or perfume made me dizzy. It smelled flowery with hints of vanilla.

“I’ll see you tonight, lass.” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

I longed to pull her toward me, holding her close, breathing in her scent. She filled my every brain cell and I couldn’t focus sometimes.

But I parted from her and went on to my next class.

*

Organic Chem was taking years off my life.

It wasn’t that I was bad at it – I was usually quite good with maths – it was the tedious lab work. The professor was strict about lab reports, requiring four pages of notes per practical lab. Prof. Jahari was ruthless about personal protective equipment and nearly made a student cry because she was wearing sandals. I understood the latter – the college didn’t want to be responsible for injuries.

Thoughts of Heather distracted me from the lecture. I could get lost in her beauty sometimes. I wanted to kiss every freckle on her face. I longed to know what her lips tasted like. I wanted to worship her curvy body with my hands and my mouth.

I did focus when I was interacting with potentially dangerous chemicals, meticulously using gloves and the fume hood. My partner, Caleb, was a little more reckless. He was English, so we had similar backstories. We bantered back and forth as was tradition by the millennia-old Irish-English rivalry, but we were becoming best mates.

“Saw you hanging round a curvy blonde bird.” he mentioned, copying the equations from my work.

“Don’t copy it verbatim, ya bollocks. We don’t want to get caught cheating.” I snapped at him, though not maliciously.

“How can I not copy it verbatim? It’s maths!” he complained.

“It would help if you actually did the equations.” I muttered.

“Soooo, you dating the blonde or what?”

“You don’t hear me prying into your love life…”

“Bloke, I’m pre-med, we don’t have time for a love life. Unless we count gross anatomy.” he joked darkly, laughing.

“Ugh, you would be the type. If you’re pre-med, why didn’t you just go to Oxford?”

“Dad had business in the States. Like hell am I going to live with my mum and her weird-arse boyfriend. Plus, these American girls are bloody beautiful. Freddie was telling me they’re all fat and desperate, but I think that’s just Freddie listening to too much Joe Roegan.”

I started on the next question, tuning out Caleb’s appreciation of American women.

“Hey, have you seen that goth woman next to yours in the bleachers sometimes? God, she’s a bloody masterpiece. She has an AnyFans, but…it feels kind of chavvy to do that shit.”

“Trish? Yeah, she’s Heather’s friend.” I answered.

“I’m sure guys hit on her all the time. I don’t know how to stand out.” Caleb considered. “You think…you could get Heather to mention me to her?”

I looked at Caleb straight in the eye. “Mate, ain’t that a bit…grade 5?”

“Well, all these other blokes are just offer dick pics. Figured I’d go old school.”

I shook my head. “The best way to make an impression is to be brave enough to do it yourself.”

He sighed as the class ended. “I hate that you’re right. Shit, I have football – I mean, soccer – practice till 7 tonight. And you have arseball until when, 8?”

“Don’t call it that.” I laughed, placing my finished work on the pile in the middle of the lab table.

“What? I’m just saying there’s a lot of arse. Those big ole cuddling sessions before every play, just arse in other men’s faces.” Caleb kept on, putting his books haphazardly into his bag.

“It’s called a huddle and you’re a wanker.” I said, hoisting my gym bag on one shoulder and my backpack on the shoulder.

I walked back to the dorms but I suddenly heard singing coming from the auditorium. Normally, I put in my earbuds to listen to music or podcasts while walking around campus, but I was curious.

I stood at the edge of the door and heard a melodious voice echoing around the room.

*“A million feathers falling down,

A million stars that touch the ground,

So many secrets to be found

Amid the falling snow.

Maybe I am falling down.

Tell me should I touch the ground?

Maybe I won't make a sound

In the darkness all around.

Make sure you’re elongating your vowel sounds and hitting your consonants! Let’s try again!”

That was Heather singing.

I leaned against the wall, gobsmacked at how angelic her voice sounded.

As a kid, I remembered asking Mam what falling in love was like.

“Thought I was in love with your sperm-donor.” she said. I didn’t mind her calling her worthless ex-husband that. Patrick became my real father, no matter what a DNA test said. “But no, falling for Patrick was true love. It’s like…seeing the person, holding them, just being near them is like being home. You see warmth, safety, and so much love in them. You love all their little quirks and hobbies, even if some are bleedin’ dangerous. And just because a lass has a pretty face doesn’t mean she’ll be pretty all over. Focus on the inside. Learn to love her imperfections and the very soul of her.”

I was falling for Heather with no rescue rope.

*Amid the Falling Snow by Enya

6

First Down

Chapter Rating: NC-17 (spicy fantasies and self-pleasure)

Football practice was a mixed experience. The September chill was settling in, the days getting longer and the sun going down at 5pm. It got down to the 40s. This wasn’t the NFL – we didn’t get the heated benches or insulated jackets. We layered our clothing beneath the uniforms, but that often made us bulky, and we couldn’t move as fluidly.

We were performing so badly, Coach Elmers called us into the locker room for a bollocking. Though when we arrived in the room, I noticed three campus security officers waiting. One was popping their gum loudly.

“Sorry to disturb your practice, but we have a drug problem on this campus.” one of the officers said, thumbs hooked in his Kevlar. “Each of you are ordered to provide a urine sample. Before you freak out, we don’t care about the booze and weed.”

“Bullshit.” LaMonte Peters muttered from behind me. “One positive piss test and they’re gonna get warrants for our dorms.

“But I didn’t do nothing!” Chase Rimes complained.

“Ain’t talkin’ bout you, white boy.”

“QUIET.” the cop snapped. “Failure to comply means immediate suspension from the team and possible academic probation.”

We all knew why this was happening. The reason was nearly 7 feet tall, 250 lbs of bulging, disproportionate muscle who stared the cops down like a raging bull. Nobody said anything about Washington because they preferred keeping their face the way it was.

I had tempted fate the other night. He was annoying the shit out of me with his snide comments to other players.

“Quit being a pussy and actually try to block, you little bitch.”

“Tell Rodriguez’s faggot ass to quit dropping the fucking ball.”

“I didn’t do nothing to you, you’re just a weak ass bitch.”

Finally, I had snapped. “Hey, I don’t have to juice up to feel like a big man, ya mad ravin’ cunt!”

He could have fractured my damn skull in his steroid-fueled rage. I was lucky to only get bruised in his assault.

The cops picked up a giant bag of the urine test cups.

“Urinate in the cup, seal the cap on tight, and wipe off any excess spillage.” the cop said, passing them around the room.

I sucked it up and just did it. Hardly anybody bothered to go into a private corner. We were all acquainted with seeing each other’s bodies, whether we wanted to be or not.

“If you’re done, go ahead and hit the showers.” Coach Elmers said, looking gravely disappointed.

I handed in my cup to the ornery cop, grabbed a fresh towel, and headed to a shower stall. As I stood in the soothing stream of warm water, thoughts of Heather roamed around my brain. I imagined her naked, under the water, smiling saucily at me. I’d watch the rivulets of water slide down her breasts, dripping from her nipples. I felt my cock flagging at the fantasy.

I shook my head. I couldn’t wank in the fucking showers.

The night after I first met her, I had my first wet dream in forever. Heather had been straddling my hips in the cinema, her dress hiding where we were joined as she fucked me. It had been so vivid and filthy, I felt disgusted in myself waking up. I barely met the girl and my mind was already inventing X-rated films in my head.

I had to relieve the tension somehow. I was determined to be a gentleman, but my dick had other ideas. Resigned, I lathered up my hand and stroked my aching cock, letting the shower fantasy continue.

“Mmmm…Kirian…” she breathed against my lips.

She kissed me, pressing her tongue against mine in a sensual dance. She bit my lower lip, peppering kisses down my jaw.

Her body pressed against mine and my hands greedily mapped every curve of her figure. I lovingly cupped her breasts, teasing the nipples between my fingers and thumbs. She gasped in pleasure. I gripped her voluptuous arse, making her giggle. I slipped my fingers between her legs, feeling her aroused flesh, already wet and swollen. She moaned into my mouth as I worked her clit. Her own hand reached down to grasp my cock.

“Plenty of time for that later, love…” I told her, instructing her to sit down on the edge of the tub. “I’m enough of a gentleman to know a lady always comes first.”

I dove between her legs, mouth first. I licked up her folds, gathering her flavor on my tongue.

The thought of tasting her has me dripping. I stifled my groans, not wanting anyone to know what I was doing in here. I fucked my fist, my hips moving uncontrollably.

I fucked her from behind, her hands on the wall. She wailed in pleasure, arse bouncing against my hips as I thrust into her pussy. I reached a hand down to stroke her clit.

“Come around my cock, lass. Let me feel you.” I begged her.

She screamed as she convulsed, pussy constricting around me.

I crammed my other fist in my mouth to keep from grunting as I came hard, striping the wall in front of me.

I washed off and cleaned the wall, feeling slightly ashamed of my fantasies. Blame my Catholic upbringing. It wasn’t easy to be told that masturbation was sinful during the most hormonal parts of my teenage years. Though I remembered a particularly embarrassing discussion with my mother, her telling me such things were normal. She didn’t agree with every tenet of the Church. She told me not to believe the things I saw online and to use tissues instead of socks to clean up. Traumatizing at the time, yes, but essential.

Patrick had given us the condom talk during an awkward breakfast. He put a condom on a cucumber and Mam came into the kitchen, yelling, “Oi, ya couldn’t have used a bloody banana? I was going to make a salad with that later!”

Patrick had also given us the consent talk, something I doubt many of my teammates got with the way they talk about women.

“Think of it as a cup of tea. It’s a perfectly normal thing to have. But you have to ask if she would like a cup of tea first. And if she doesn’t want one, she doesn’t want one. Don’t be annoying her and continually asking why she doesn’t want a cup of tea. And do not force her to drink it!”

Strange metaphor but I got the gist.

I wasn’t that much into porn, at least not the type my friends were into. I found the hardcore, degrading stuff disturbing, especially the obsession with incest. The few girlfriends I had taught me a lot about how to pleasure a woman. They were never deep romances, though. We had fun and fulfilled a need at the time.

I was a fumbling idiot the first time I had sex. We were both 16 a piece and barely knew what we were doing. We didn’t really know about foreplay and it was her first time. I hadn’t been as gentle as I could have and it was painful for her. I had panicked, seeing blood on the bed, but she said that was normal. We didn’t last long, her confessing that she was trying to convince herself she wasn’t a lesbian.

I set off toward the dorm, wondering what I was going to wear. I didn’t want to show up in a graphic tee and jeans; this was a date. I finally made it back and settled on my nicer pair of blue jeans and a blue Henley. I brushed through my unruly curls and spritzed a little cologne on the front of my shirt. We agreed to meet in the quad around 6:30 pm next to the bear sculpture.

I arrived on the quad and stopped dead when I saw her. She was in an orange turtleneck dress that accentuated her shapely body. She had curled her hair and added a little makeup. She was so bloody beautiful, it made my chest ache.

“Hello, lass.” I greeted her. “You look amazing.”

“So do you.” she smiled.

We walked down the quad to the intersection. The Cineplex was only a 15-minute walk from here. Her hand reached down to mine and I grasped it, weaving my fingers through hers. It just felt natural to hold her hand.

“How was your day, lass?” I asked her.

“Busy.” she answered. “Trish wants to throw a Halloween party at our new apartment. I’m not particularly crazy about the idea. She keeps saying it’ll be a dry party, but I know people will sneak in liquor.”

“I’ve been dragged to frat parties. Reminded me of a working at a pub. Some people think drinking is a personality and I don’t get it.”

HEATHER’S POV

I was finding it easier to talk to him. I no longer guarded each and every word. He gave me a newfound confidence I hadn’t felt for a long time.

We arrived at the theater, checking out what movies were playing. There was a horror film everyone had been hyping up but I was a complete chicken shit and hated gory movies. There was a rom-com playing but I wasn’t sure if there were sex scenes in it. For all my horny fantasies, it was still awkward to watch love scenes in movie theaters, especially with your crush.

Boyfriend? Was he officially my boyfriend? I didn’t know these things.

We settled on the action movie. I paid for my own ticket and snacks. Some women expected men to pay for everything, but I think that made the wrong impression. I was as independent as I could be on my scholarship and renting an apartment with Trish.

We found our seats in the theater just in time for the previews.

The movie was alright. Superheroes, villains, fights between good and evil, all that jazz. My body had its own fixations. He was so close to me, I could smell his cologne. It wasn’t overpowering like many teenage and college-age guys who substituted bathing with body sprays. Our hands were still linked together and his fingers squeezed mine gently from time to time. Our knees were millimeters apart. I felt his eyes on me, looking me over. I wondered if he was imagining me naked. I blushed at the prospect.

Little did I know that there was a sex scene in this movie. I guess I hadn’t read the R-rating well enough.

The femme fatale character swooped into the high-rise apartment window where the hero sat on his bed. She was all Photoshop-made perfection in a skintight bodysuit. She began peeling it off slowly, the camera only showing her bare back. There was the slightest peak of her ass before the camera panned down to the costume crumpled at her feet. A montage of lovemaking took place with body parts craftily hidden by the other actor’s body.

Since they were superheroes, they had incredible strength and the force of their fucking broke the bed. It was hot, steamy, and arousing. I tried not to picture Kirian as the dude pistoning wildly between the woman’s thighs, the woman who was also blonde-haired with dark eyes.

I crossed my legs, ignoring the ache between them. Kirian also shifted in his seat. Was the movie affecting him, too? He had placed his own popcorn conveniently in his lap, so I couldn’t see for myself. Oh, great. Now, I was thinking of unzipping his jeans and going down on him in the theater. I had never even done that before, but the thought lingered in my mind, like that dream this morning had.

The action resumed – the good vs evil action, I mean – and we watched the rest of the movie. As soon as it ended, I excused myself to the restroom.

I took a paper towel, drenched it with cold water, and dabbed it on the flushed red skin of my face and neck. Dear Lord, I looked desperate.

I rejoined him in the lobby and we walked back to campus.

My resolve was waning. Somehow, I knew I was going to cave. Why else had I freshly shaved my legs and pubes?

“So, that film was, uh, okay. Bit more…graphic than I was expecting.” Kirian said slowly.

“Yeah, I should’ve read a review first. Bit of a weird first date, watching a sex scene together.” I replied.

Suddenly, we stopped. The nearest streetlamp buzzed on. He faced me and I nearly gasped at the desire shown in his expression. His eyes were dilated and the corners of his mouth lifted in a devilish smirk that turned my knees to jelly.

“You’re all I think about, Heather.” he whispered, caressing my face with the back of his fingers.

Fuck it.

I swung my arms around his neck, tilted my head up, and our lips crashed together like an ocean wave against a rocky cliff. I moaned greedily at the taste of him, the salt and popcorn shot through with the heady, earthy flavor of him. My fingers weaved into his curls and his tongue requested access into my mouth.

Jesus. This was the taste of sin. Forbidden fruit. Damnation.

I was already addicted.

We parted from one another after what felt like hours. My entire body burned with wanton lust for him. But I was hardly having my first time against a lamppost.

“Want to go back to my place?” I asked him, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt.

“I want to. Oh, God, I want to.” he said, gasping for air. “But I am going to walk you home, give you a kiss goodnight, and go to my dorm room.”

I tried to hide my disappointment, but he caught it as I looked down at my boots.

“It’s not a no, love…I want you so much.” he explained. “It’s a raincheck. I’ve made the mistake in the past of moving too fast. You’re worth going the scenic route, lass.”

“Okay.” I said with a smile.

He walked me home, hand in hand. Indeed, when we got to my apartment door, he gave me another kiss, though not as heated as our first one had been.

“Dream of me, lass.” he said. “Goodnight.”

I watched him walk off toward the dorms then I went inside. Trish wasn’t home, so I went immediately into my room. I put a scrunchie on my doorknob, which was our signal that we were with company or just needed some alone time, and then closed and locked it.

I put on some music and began peeling off my clothes. I didn’t dress in pajamas. I slipped under the covers naked and grabbed my vibrator out of the nightstand. My whole body was screaming for my release. My nipples were hard and I pulled and plucked on them, moaning, thinking of Kirian sucking on them. My pussy was absolutely drenched, arousal leaking down my thighs. I turned the vibrator on and teased myself.

He had come home with me. He was ripping my clothes off like they offended him. He pressed me, half-naked, against the wall, kissing me passionately. He tugged my dress to the floor, undoing my bra, and taking in my breasts with a lustful groan.

“You’re bloody perfect, love…” he sighed against my mouth.

His large hands formed on my breasts and squeezed. He got to his knees, mouth engulfing my nipple.

I sank the vibrator into my pussy, turning up the vibrations.

He was holding me against the wall, fucking me intently.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, lass.” he hissed in my ear. “Gonna make you come every way that I can…starting with you impaled on my cock. Come on, gorgeous girl.”

He reached down to stroke my clit.

I came hard, nearly crying as I seized under the massive orgasm. I saw stars as I turned off the toy and pulled it out.

I wouldn’t survive this.

KIRIAN’S POV

I was restless.

My roommate, Josh, snored like an elephant with sleep apnea. I might have been willing to wank off in the locker room showers, but I couldn’t do it with him in here. I tried flexing parts of my body, redirecting blood flow, but my mind lingered stubbornly on Heather.

Those perfect, soft lips tasted better than I dreamed. Her lush body pressed against mine and I wanted her so badly. I wanted to taste each inch of her and make her moan my name.

I gathered my shower supplies and headed for the communal showers. It was 2am, so I expected them to be deserted.

I should just put it on cold, but I had to relieve this tension, not just suppress it down to deal with another day. I kept lotion in my gym bag to hide. It was stupid, I know. We were all men in the prime of our lives. Even Olympians couldn’t willpower lust away.

I slicked up my hand with the lotion and started stroking myself with a relieved groan.

In the theater again, only it was much cleaner and well-lit. She was on her knees in front of me, biting her lip.

“What are you doin’, lass?” I asked her, playing with her hair. “We’ll get caught.”

“Oh, so you don’t want me to suck your dick?” she teased.

“I didn’t say that.” I replied.

“Just keep it down, then.” she grinned, palming my cock through the denim. “Mmm, I think he wants to come out and play.”

She unzipped my jeans and pulled my dick out of my boxer briefs. She licked up the length of me and I groaned. She kissed the head, tongue revolving over the slit. Pre-cum coated her tongue. She moaned.

“So good…” she whispered, taking me into her mouth.

I was panting out loud, fucking my fist. I eased back, not wanting to come just yet.

She glided my cock through her luscious lips, coating me in saliva. Her brown eyes locked with mine. Oh, God. I was all hers…all hers…the things I would do just to…

I slammed my hand against the wall as I exploded, ropes of cum splashing on the shower floor.

“Fuck…” I hissed, the fatigue and post-ejaculatory clarity hitting me like a mallet.

It was true, though. She was the sweetest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. She had me, hook, line, and sinker.