College Girls Ch. 03

As you've probably guessed, this story is a continuation of College Girls, Chapter 2

Kate wanted to ride shotgun, which meant that Susan would be sitting next to either Peter or the other guy, Luke, for the next few hours. Neither seemed like a good choice. Luke was one of Kate's ex-boyfriends – Susan remembered him vaguely from earlier in the year. He was a typical Kate cast-off: linebacker-sized and annoyingly crude. It occurred to Susan that having him along would be awkward for both Luke and Kate, but they didn't seem to mind.

They were picking up Luke's new girlfriend at her parents' house, and then there'd be six of them squeezed into Ken's SUV, along with luggage, skis, snowboards, cases of beer, what seemed like half of Ken's wine cellar, and piles of parkas, gloves, wool hats.

She ended up next to Luke, which had seemed like the safer choice at first. But then he gradually oozed into her personal space, starting with his knee bumping hers, then his thigh, then his hip. An hour into the trip, Susan found herself getting squeezed uncomfortably against the door. Finally Luke turned half-around so that he could talk to Peter in the back seat, which jammed his butt practically onto Susan's lap. She tapped him on the shoulder.

Luke turned back and grinned. His teeth seemed unnaturally large. "What's up, honey?"

"It's Susan, and could you move over a bit? I'm getting kind of squashed."

The grin got bigger somehow. "Why don't you just snuggle up? Then there'll be plenty of room."

Now she was really steamed. She wondered if Ken could hear their conversation. She could really use him to come to her rescue. But he was talking to Kate, listening really, as she chattered non-stop. Susan was on her own.

She stared hard at him. "Could you just move over, please?"

That earned her a cool, appraising look from Luke. He shrugged and slid a couple of inches away from her and turned back to resume his conversation with Peter.

Susan closed her eyes, willing herself to relax. This ski trip was going to be a disaster. She could sense it. Just being around Peter was uncomfortable enough – they'd reached the point where they averted their eyes every time they happened to glance at each other. Fortunately, Kate was oblivious to the tension between them. And it was Ken's party, so she could hardly refuse to come.

After far too long they arrived at the new girlfriend's house and there was more shuffling of bodies and luggage and things were being strapped to the roof. The new girl – Fina? Fawn? Fiona? – seemed a little on the mousey side, although certainly attractive enough, slim with long, dark hair and full lips and a shy smile. She seemed to be built on a different scale than Luke. Susan wondered how they … well, never mind.

When the music stopped, Susan was sitting in the back of the SUV along with Peter and several duffel bags. So there was no help for it. Unless Susan pretended to fall asleep or something, they were going to have to talk to each other.

The SUV bumped down the driveway, and Mr. and Mrs. Fawn (it was Fawn, apparently) waved goodbye. Maps were consulted and everybody settled in for the rest of the drive.

"How have you been?" Peter asked her.

"Fine, thanks."

"It was really nice of Ken to set this up."

She nodded again. "I guess the cabin belongs to his family."

"Have you met them?" Peter asked. He tried to make the question sound casual, but it wasn't.

"No, not yet." She didn't elaborate.

Fawn and Luke, sitting in the middle seat, seemed to be talking to each other as well. Thank god for that, Susan thought.

"Things are going well with Kate?" she asked.

Peter nodded. "She's very … she's hard to resist, you know, when she wants …"

"You don't have to apologize." That had come out a little sharply.

Peter looked chastened. He shifted uncomfortably on his seat. Their legs touched, and he pulled away, abashed.

Susan smiled and touched him on the shoulder. "It's all right," she said.

* * *

The "cabin" was actually a unit in a spiffy complex of wood-shingled town-houses. Ken opened the place up, turned on the heat, and showed everyone around. It was every bit as posh as Susan had anticipated. There was a private hot tub in back and a view across the bottom of a ski slope to a jagged ridge of mountains in the distance.

Susan started to haul luggage inside and found herself at the top of the stairs lugging a duffel and a backpack. As she looked up and down the hallway, trying to remember which doorway was hers, Luke appeared beside her with his usual smug grin.

"Hey, it doesn't really matter," he said, noting her confusion. "Throw your stuff anywhere. We'll probably end up swapping anyway."

Susan stopped cold. "What are you talking about?"

His grin just got wider and he walked past her down the hall.

* * *

After everyone had gotten settled they met downstairs and had some take-out Chinese. Ken had wanted to go out to an Italian restaurant he knew in town, but everyone else had had enough driving for one day. Ken produced a couple of bottles of Pinot Gris (not exactly right with Kung Pao chicken, Susan decided, but still awfully nice). Then they moved into the living room with its beamed ceiling and thick carpet and abstract expressionist lithographs. Ken and Peter swapped stories about their travels to exotic destinations until Luke, feeling left out, perhaps, or just wanting to up the ante a bit said:

"Hot tub?"

Susan stiffened. It hadn't occurred to her to bring a swimsuit. She was about to say as much, then thought better of it. Did one wear swimsuits in situations like this? Probably not.

Kate perked up immediately. "Sure," she said, flashing her best cheerleader smile.

Ken shrugged. "Why not. I'll go out and check the temperature. Should be ready in about twenty minutes."

Everyone else nodded and headed upstairs to do whatever getting ready to go into a hot tub involved.

Susan followed Ken out onto the deck and watched as he pushed buttons and turned knobs and checked thermometers. "Um, are you going in naked?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess." He turned to look at her. Her nervousness must have been fairly obvious. "Does that bother you?"

"A little."

Ken stopped what he was doing and put his arm around her. She suddenly felt more comfortable, safe and protected. "Then don't do it. Or wait a while until everyone is so drunk they won't notice."

That was a pretty good idea, she decided. "Okay. Maybe I'll call home first, then come down later."

"Good. And I'll be sure to turn the lights down low and crank up the bubbles."

Susan smiled weakly. "Sorry to be so shy."

He smiled back. "I like shy."

* * *

Susan could hear the laughter from below. It had risen a bit in pitch and volume during the previous half hour, thanks no doubt to the wine Ken had been pouring. She walked into the bathroom and was relieved to find a robe hanging there – something else she hadn't thought to bring. She stripped and then folded her clothes carefully. Not that she ever folded them at home; it was just another delaying tactic. When she couldn't put it off any longer she tied the robe tightly and padded down the stairs.

Just as Ken had promised, the back deck was quite dark. Susan could see steam rising from the surface of the tub and someone's shoulders and the back of a head. Fine, Susan thought. I can handle this. She took a moment to steady herself then opened the sliding glass door that led out to the deck. No one seemed to notice her. She took a quick survey of the bodies in the tub, which wasn't made any easier by the steam or the darkness. There was a gap on the far side between Ken and a male she couldn't identify. She walked around, dropped her robe and slid into the water almost in one motion. Enough bubbles churned the surface to make it effectively opaque. Susan hunkered down until only the top of her chest was exposed. Nothing to it.

"This feels great," she said brightly. And it did. "Can someone pour me a glass of wine?"

It took a while for it to register with everyone that she was suddenly among them. But, judging by all the empty wine bottles lying around, Susan figured that she could probably count on slow reactions from this group for the remainder of the evening.

Kate responded first. She sat up to reach for a bottle, and Susan's eyes went wide. Kate had emerged from the water and was completely exposed down to her waist. Her breasts stood out like a challenge, catching the stray light until her skin almost glowed. Susan had never seen anyone look so naked outside of a porn video. She poured some wine into a glass and handed to Susan with a big grin. Kate was totally in her element.

"We saved this for you."

Susan nearly stood up to take it but caught herself at the last second. Kate sat down and resumed the slightly incoherent story she'd been telling, and Susan could finally assess the situation at her leisure. Kate was across from her, sitting next to Peter. Very next to him, actually. Almost on top of him. Ken was on the other side of Kate, which meant … oh, hell. It meant that she was sitting between Ken and Luke. She thought about that. Maybe she should move over to Ken's other side somehow so that she could sit between him and Kate. But she'd just be calling attention to herself. She decided to sit tight and edge discreetly away from Luke.

Kate kept talking, but Luke's harsh baritone cut through whatever she was trying to say.

"Ken, buddy, do you have any tequila in this joint? We should do some shots."

Ken seemed half-asleep. He took a moment to react. "Liquor cabinet's next to the refrigerator. Help yourself."

Luke grinned and stood up, the water streaming off of his blocky torso. He looked powerful and masculine, and he knew it. Susan couldn't help herself – her eyes stayed on him as he stepped out of the tub and onto the deck. His cock caught the light for a moment, raw and heavy-looking with an unusually large scrotum. And his butt … it kind of stuck out, dense and muscular like the rest of him. Not my type, Susan reminded herself. Too crude. Too cocky.

He was back a minute later holding a bottle and a bunch of shot glasses. He sort of posed with the bottle, looking like one of those statues of wrestlers that had fascinated her when she'd first studied Greek history. The wrestlers used to rub oil on their bodies before a match, Susan remembered. And they competed naked. She shivered thinking about it. All Luke was missing was the laurel wreath.

Damn it, Susan thought, what am I thinking? She broke out of her reverie and looked up from Luke's … mid-section to find him staring right at her. His grin widened and Susan looked away quickly. Luke chuckled and got back into the tub, quite close to her this time. Someday, she hoped, she'd get used to being around naked guys, especially attractive ones. For now she was just grateful that she didn't have to feel embarrassed about her pussy being wet. It was wet anyway.

Luke poured shots for everyone. He, Peter and Kate all knocked theirs back and made appropriate grimaces and celebratory noises. Susan sipped hers, and so did Ken. Fawn just held her glass politely, not touching it. Susan hadn't pegged Fawn yet. Did she lack a personality altogether or was she just painfully shy around people she didn't know? Susan made a mental note to spend some time getting to know her.

Luke poured another round, and then another. After a while, Kate spread her arms and lay back against the edge of the tub. Her breasts floated to the surface, pale and luminous. Her nipples hardened quickly in the cool night air. She flipped her long blonde hair so that it spread out behind her on the deck. Peter watched her, his eyes glazed, like some hapless soul in a fairy tale bewitched by an enchantress. Susan shook her head. In a way she was grateful that she didn't have that kind of power over men. Being nineteen and reasonably athletic was already causing her all the trouble she could handle.

She snuggled against Ken, careful to stay submerged, not quite trusting herself after all that wine and tequila. Kate, Peter and Luke had another round. Susan finished her first one and thought, why not?, just one more. Luke's laughter, loud enough to begin with, acquired a piercing, drunken quality that cut straight through the fog that was beginning to form in Susan's head. She leaned even closer to Ken, hoping that he'd put his arm around her to steady her a bit. But he was watching Kate like everyone else. She was standing now, her body on display from her hips upward. Her pussy was still hidden in the froth, but drops of water clung to her little patch of blond pubic hair and sparkled like jewels. She was demonstrating some sort of dance step, but she slipped and had to be steadied by Peter. She finally lost her balance completely and landed in Peter's lap, looking drunk and startled.

"What's that?" Kate asked, looking down at Peter and feeling around under the surface with one hand. Giggling: "You'd better put that thing away before you hurt someone."

But Kate didn't make any effort to move away. In fact, she seemed to be wiggling her hips under the water. Susan looked around. Luke's grin had gotten wider, if that was possible. Fawn looked away shyly. Ken was a Buddha: half-smiling, showing nothing. Susan decided that it was probably time to call it a night. She thought about getting up – clearly the first step in the process. But that suddenly seemed like quite a lot of work. She needed a minute or two to build up to it. Those minutes passed and then a few more after that, and her tequila glass was empty and then it was mysteriously full again. Ken was still close to her, their hips touching, but he seemed to almost be asleep. Is that how he reacts to being drunk, she wondered?

Kate had turned partway around on Peter's lap and was kissing him. Something was happening underwater too, but it was hard to tell exactly what. As usual, Susan's over-active imagination began to fill in the details. She wondered if she should try to wake up Ken. He'd probably be interested. But perhaps he was really awake. His eyelids fluttered, and she could feel fingertips moving along her thigh. She wasn't sure about that at first; it could have been some trick of the water circulation – her experience with spas was limited. But then the pressure became more insistent. The sensation was an odd one, as if a fish was swimming around her legs. Odd but nice, she decided. She'd been feeling a little neglected, she had to admit. Kate and Peter were doing whatever, and Luke had finally started to pay some attention to Fawn, leaning over to whisper something in her ear. It was definitely past time for Ken to show some interest.

The fingertips made looping patterns on her skin. The contact made her tingle and squirm a little, just like Kate was doing. Actually, Kate had moved past the squirming stage. She was sitting directly over Peter's lap now, facing away from him, but leaning back against his chest. Her eyes were closed and her breasts bobbed at the surface. Peter moved one hand up over her chest, dragging his fingers over her nipples. Susan couldn't tell what he was doing with his other hand; perhaps the same thing that was being done to her.

Kate's lips parted and she made a soft, indrawn sigh. Peter shifted his body, and suddenly he was looking right at Susan. His gaze was so intense she didn't know how to react. She watched him stroke Kate's breasts and squeeze her nipples between his fingers. Susan was only vaguely aware of the hand that continued to caress her stomach, sliding over the warm skin and along the undersides of her breasts. She sank a little lower into the tub, which seemed to encourage the hand to roam more freely. It traced one side of her breast then flicked so lightly against her nipple that she couldn't be sure that it wasn't just a stray eddy in the current. But then the hand covered her breast completely and the thumb massaged her nipple making her gasp and arch her back.

Peter's eyes never left Susan's. He was just across the tub, a few feet away, but the steam and the alcohol in her blood made him seem ghost-like, ephemeral. Kate rocked back and forth on his lap, and Susan was suddenly certain that they were doing it. She'd watched them before, hidden in the darkness of her dorm room and again on the stairs in Ken's house. And it was dark now too, and sort of dreamy with the foam and the steam. But this time Peter knew she was watching, and that changed things. But she couldn't look away. She'd never been able to, really, not then, not now. She needed to see when Kate reached that place where nothing mattered anymore except what was happening inside her, when she moaned and bucked and the last of her restraint was gone.

Susan thought about the hand that was touching her, trying to imagine that it was Peter's. But no, he was too far away, and Peter's touch had always been gentler, almost reverent. This hand was rough and insistent, as if it was all about the goal and not about getting there. But she needed it just the same, really, really needed it. The hand was caressing her breasts, but she willed it to go lower. And … yes, the fingers stroked down her stomach and began tickling her inner thighs, which had somehow gotten farther apart, and then they were playing with her pubic hair. Susan drew her breath in and her muscles tensed.

Kate leaned forward. Her body began moving up and down unambiguously. Her face held a look of astonishment, her brow drawn together, her eyes wide. The hand drifted between Susan's legs. Everything about the contact felt different, not slippery-smooth like it usually did. The friction – it was the same everywhere, against her stomach, along her thigh, inside her pussy. It was as if every part of her was aroused. A finger moved against her clit, rubbing it back and forth, harder than she usually liked, but it was perfect tonight. She lifted her hips to drive herself against it and suddenly she was floating. Her breasts emerged like pale islands, her nipples peeking out between the hissing bubbles.

Peter licked his lips. He looked down towards Susan's soft conical points and the swells of her breasts as the water alternately displayed then hid them. The hand in her pussy was pure, raw sensation now, plunging deep into her again and again. Her head pitched back, soaking her hair, and she choked back a scream. The rising heat in her body suddenly made the tub's warmth intolerable. But she was still floating and couldn't stand up, couldn't get her balance, and her hips thrashed against the hand that was inside her.

She put her arms behind her and grabbed the back of the tub. Now she could grind her hips, and she did, shamelessly, knowing that no one could see her. Her body began to tremble. Her skin, already flushed from the warm water, burned a dark pink at the top of her chest and down between her breasts. She hadn't ever felt anything like this before, the heat coming from outside her and inside her at the same time. But she needed to stay in control, she thought dimly. She was sitting outside with her friends, after all. She should …

Susan gasped. There were two fingers now, thick and hard and cruel, ramming in and out of her. "Oh, god," she groaned as an irresistible feeling welled up inside her, expanding, strengthening as it flowed into her limbs. She was shaking and she was half out of the water again. She had a brief glimpse of Peter staring hard at her before her eyes rolled up in her head and the world turned black.

* * *

After a long time her body came back from wherever it had been. She reached down between her legs and gently pushed away the hand that had been touching her. She felt weightless and dreamy and spent. When she could finally summon the energy to raise her eyelids, Peter was standing up. Susan felt a pang of disappointment. She'd missed seeing Kate at the end, missed seeing her body thrash out of control while Peter pounded into her. Susan shook her head, amazed at herself for thinking like that.