Head Games at School Ch. 01

"Leave me alone, woman, can't you see I'm busy?"

Kris giggled again and glancing down at me, didn't fail to notice the effect she was looking for. My penis was visibly pressing out at my jeans. She winked, like a small child would do and said, "Yes, very busy." And walked away. She definitely wasn't the same woman she was earlier in the year. Inside her shapeless pants, I could see a swing to her hips that was not there before. She was wearing sneakers, but somehow managed to look like she was in heels. Damn. It took a few minutes to back into my essay.

After I had finished the rough draft, I got up and stretched. I needed a break. I wandered around the library looking for Kris. She was up one level and also deep into her essay of the same novel. She was sitting at a large study table, with two other students, both young women I didn't recognize. Kris was facing away from me and didn't see me approaching her. For a big guy, I could move silently. I walked up behind her, leaned down and ran my parted lips down her neck. She froze and the two other women looked at me in amazement. Then Kris softened, reached up behind her head with one hand and held me to her neck. The stretch of her arm made her breast on that side stand out and I swore she ran her other hand over it. The two young women were open eyed with wonder. I could see both pairs of their eyes glued to Kris's breast.

"Go away Ken. Can't you see I'm busy?"

I couldn't take my eyes off the two women, still open eyed at the display of public eroticism. They both looked at me and I smiled. "Yes, very busy." I walked away. Giving my neck and shoulders a good stretch was the best show I could come up with for the two spectators. This was the library. You weren't supposed to have sex in the library.

I worked at polishing up my essay and when I thought I had enough accomplished for one night, I packed up my things and went up to look for Kris. She wasn't there. The two other young women were. I walked up to the table and just raised my eyebrows and glanced around. They both seemed to be blushing. "She left," one of them murmured.

I walked back to my dorm and put my things in my room. Ten o'clock. I thought that I should hit the gym, work out for a while and call it a night. I grabbed my gym bag and headed over to the Gymnasium fitness centre. I changed and went into my usual warm up and stretch routine. Even at this time of night there was usually a crowd of fitness buffs. I always made a point of concentrating on my routine and not paying much attention to the other students. My headphones were in and I got to it. Tonight was power training. I went to the weight benches and started to pump iron. I had done this routine so many times, it was like an old friend. Pump, fast and hard, going over the muscle groups. Twenty reps at about eighty percent max power. Then around again, five slow reps at full power. About an hour later, as I was finishing my last group I was sweating buckets and breathing hard. I sat up and ran my towel over my face. The bench seat was soaked. I towelled it off and headed for the men's locker room. Trish was looking at me.

She was also in sweats, her hair back and her face flushed and moist. She had been there working out and I hadn't noticed. Was it two nights ago we last saw each other? Three? I was lost. She was just standing there, panting a bit from her own workout and her breasts were moving with her chest. Staring at me, she looked hungry, and I was feeling like I was to be her next meal. She glanced down at the floor, as if thinking, than looked at me again, with her eyebrows up and her head slightly tilted. Her body language was clear. 'Well?' she was asking. A slight nod of my head, likely imperceptible to anyone casually looking. 'Yes.'

She flicked her eyes to the back door. 'Meet me there' and she walked to the door and out. I waited just a few seconds, as if to not let anyone know what I was up to and then walked out side. It was dark, but the lights of the campus made it easy to see. She pinned me to the wall and kissed me with open wet lips. She was stronger than I had given her credit for. The cool night air was barely able to carry away the heat of her body against mine. We were both in a lather, real and emotional. I spun her around, pinning her and went for her neck. Her head tilted back and one hand was inside my sweats, under my shorts. She massaged my penis and it was swelling fast. I slipped a hand down her sweats, under her panties and felt wet, wet warmth. Sweat and lubrication. One finger slipped into her vagina which felt like liquid velvet. She smelled of sweat, a trace of perfume and sex. It was intoxicating. A narcotic going straight to my brain. My penis was throbbing in her hand. My own sweat was like a lubricant and she worked my penis as she pushed herself against my hand. Her clitoris was swollen, wet and firm. As I worked a second finger into her, I used my palm to rub her clit and she started to take short gasping breathes. She was starting to come. We were only thirty seconds into this and she was coming. So was I. The door started to open. I slammed it shut. Hard. 'Stay away!' was my mental scream. Someone got the message. Trish's eyes were wide and they were rolling.

"Shit, shit, shit.." She was about to go off. She did. Her whole body seemed to contract and I could feel her legs squeezing and twisting together, almost breaking my fingers. Semen was pouring onto her hand as I came seconds later. We both were rocking into each other with the efforts. A knee trembler. I almost lost it and screamed. I was biting my lip to stay quiet.

It was the fastest, purest sex I had ever had. No emotion other than lust. No words, no promises, no call me tomorrow, just lust, moisture and climax. One minute for everything, tops. More like forty-five seconds. Before I knew it, Trish was back inside the door. She had simply walked a step, opened the door and was gone. Only then did I look around, sheepishly realizing I was on full public display. I saw no one. I leaned back against the wall, and let my breathing slow. I was flushed and was panting, just like I had finished a serious workout. About thirty seconds later the door opened and out stepped a couple of guys I knew vaguely.

"Good workout?"

"Yeah....good." I was sure they were in the dark as to the true cause of my condition.

"Saw the game on Saturday. You were flying, buddy...flying."

"Yeah...it was a tough one..."

"G' night"

"Yeah...g' night"

This was absolutely out of control, and there really didn't seem to be anything I wanted to do about that. My own mother wouldn't recognize me. I went back in to hit the shower. Trish and I needed to talk but I couldn't even begin to think of what I wanted to say. I walked slowly back to my dorm, thinking but not understanding. I crawled into bed and just let my mind slowly shut down.

I woke up with a headache. It was Friday. The team was going on the road. The bus left about noon for the four hour trip to our next game. Down time and it actually felt good. I was emotionally wearing out. Sex I could handle. The head game with Trish was different. I wasn't even in her league. Kris had said good-bye at the arena where the bus was being loaded. A few of the guys looked at her and wondered. She was in plain mode. She gave me a quick kiss, more of a peck and walked away.

"You're dating her? You're slowing down, Ken. Must be getting old. What happened to the guy we knew before?" Chuckles and punches to my shoulder. Guy stuff. A weekend of nothing but that sounded good. Four hours to chill, read a bit, snooze and be gone.

The team we played that night really wasn't much of a challenge. They were always in the cellar and we coasted to an easy win. Back on the bus and off to a hotel for the night. A team meal and off to bed. Two to a room. It kept the costs down. My road trip roomie was a freshman. Coach liked to give the new guys a roomie that knew the ropes. It kept the shenanigans to a minimum. If you didn't win on the road because the team was partying, playoffs were a pipe dream. This was a serious hockey school. I liked it that way. Bed time.

"So who was that girl? The guys seemed to think you're dating down."

"Fuck off, Twinkie." He knew enough to shut up when I called him Twinkie.

Team breakfast and a pep talk. Last night's game was easy. Tonight would be very different. Four hours on the road to meet one of the top teams in the league. A powerhouse school that boasted many alumni in the pros. Tonight, we were going to play hockey.

We got there in time for a late lunch, chill time and then over to the arena. The place was packed. This was a big time hockey school and we were one of their long time rivals. This was going to be an old fashioned hockey game. Last weekend, Coach had said he wanted me to be fit. This was why. My leg felt fine.

It took the whole first period for things to heat up. At first each team played a disciplined game. The ref was keeping it clean and it was clear that playing this type of game was not to our advantage. We were down one and it really should have been two. Only our goalie was keeping this from becoming a blow out. Their team was loaded with talent. Their coach preached a disciplined style of play that worked well with highly talented players. I knew what I had to do. It was the last few minutes of the first period and it was time to shake it up. Time to go out there and hit someone. Not dirty, not to injure...just to shake things up.

The puck was in their end and I was back checking. One of their D men picked up the puck and started out. He should have passed it up. I faked a turn around, letting him think he had a few seconds. He was picking up speed and was coming out of his own zone with his head down. Idiot. 'Trolley Tracks' it was called. I caught him the trolley tracks. Spinning back to face him I took two quick steps and let him have it, clean but as hard as I could. My shoulder went into his chest and he was down and out. The puck was right there. I tapped it over to my left wing and he fired a snap shot that their goalie barely got a pad on. Rebound. I tapped it in, over the outstretched pad. Tie game.

The D Man was still down. He was helped off the ice and I could feel every player on their bench seething at me. Shook things up big time. The horn sounded. Tied at one, end of the first. They all knew it was supposed to up two for them. Tough. The ref wisely held us back and let them get completely off the ice before letting us go. Brawls were frowned upon in university hockey. That didn't mean they never happened.

The second carried on where the first had finished. It was real hockey now. They were after me in particular, but I wasn't worried. I was big and fast and I was in my senior year. I knew all the tricks. Let them try to take me out. All that meant was that they weren't playing their game, the game which could win it for them. Their coach was livid. He was trying to get his team under control, but every time they seemed to be getting it together, one of our big guys hit someone, and made it count. They still managed to put one in during the second and we went off down only one. It was better than I was expecting. Coach was looking good about things. The only way we were going to keep up with their skills was to take away their discipline. So far it was working.

In the dressing room, coach laid it out. He knew exactly what the other coach would be doing. "Keep hitting them, keep shaking things, and keep them off their game," he said. "Don't let up. Not for a second."

I could almost hear the other coach. "Keep to the game plan. Keep the plays working. Keep up the discipline, those guys can't out play you." And so on. Of course he was right. We weren't up to their standards in pure skill. But we were a little bigger, a little older, and we had nothing to lose in their barn. They did.

The third was a real show. The crowd didn't stop cheering and the electricity in the building was crackling. Skill against strength. Agility against speed. Discipline against power. I could almost see their coach kicking his bench, every time one of his guys took a run at one of us. I took a lot of runs against them. Shots were coming from everywhere at both ends. Somehow, none went in. Last minute and we had to pull our goalie. With the extra attacker, we gave it to them. For fifty seconds all their goalie saw was frozen rubber. Then it happened. The puck was in their corner and we got it out. I saw the pass coming. I stepped in to reach it and it was poke checked by one of them past my skate. A quick flip by another of their guys and it was going down the ice and into our empty net.

Damn, and then Damnation. The place erupted. Eight seconds left on the clock and down two. It was already over. The next line came out to kill down the clock. As we lined up to shake hands, they were smiling, all of our sins and hits forgiven. Generous of them. The D man I had cranked even gave me a shot to my shoulder as I went by. Guy stuff. In the dressing room we were quiet but not down. We lost a good one and we had nothing to feel bad about. Coach just said, "Good job guys, you all did well." Too bloody right!

Shower, dress, banter and more guy stuff. We were all in a pretty good mood. Back on the bus and yet another hotel. Another late team meal and since we didn't play on Sundays, we could relax, goof off a bit and relax the rules. Stay up late. No curfew. It was an unwritten law that a few beers were allowed on a Saturday night. A few. No drunken shenanigans. That was part of the reason for the room assignments. At the age of twenty-one, I could buy a few cases with their money. I did and was walking back through the hotel lobby with the beer when I saw Trish sitting in a lounge chair. None of the team were in the lobby and I thanked God for that. Sweet Mary, what was she doing here? How did she know where we were? This was too much. This was not only scary, it was looking sinister.

"Hello Ken. I was in the neighbourhood and thought I would stop by." As if that was true. "For the love of God, Trish, what are you doing? How the hell did you know how to find me?"

"I'm in room 604. Do you want to stop by?"

As if she was going to take no for an answer. I swallowed hard and said, "Give me a few minutes." She smiled at me as if I had just agreed to pay for the coffee and got up. I let her take the elevator up by herself, then headed for my room.

"Suds!" Twinky was not alone. A few of the guys were there, and word got out that beer was served. The room quickly filled with half the team and the banter was going strong. "Okay Ken, tell us about her. Tell us all about Kris. Dishy Krissy." Good thing it wasn't Twinky doing the asking. Chuckles leading to real laughter. Sweet Jesus, what do I do now? Play along, get them onto some other topic and get out. Room 604. Shit.

"Guys, don't you know by now not to judge a book by it's cover?" Guffaws and shoulder taps. Guy stuff.

"Well I did hear she changed her cover a few days ago! Quite the dish I heard. Dishy Krissy." More laughter. It was working.

"Guys, it's like I always told you. Covers are for beds and we all know what they are for. Changing bed covers is good for you." I had never said anything remotely like that, but who cared. The room erupted in laughter and the discussion turned to other girlfriends. I waited for a few minutes, then walked out, not saying a word about where I is was going. Nobody cared. The guys moved back on forth around the rooms every Saturday night on the road. I walked up to the sixth floor and knocked on 604.

Was it only two nights ago I had decided that Trish and I needed to talk? She was either psychic or psychotic. Both?

Trish opened the door and I walked in. She shut the door and moved that little gadget that keeps out everyone, even the hotel staff. She was dressed up a bit. She looked good. Black skirt, stockings, heels and a pretty good looking light blue blouse. I had never seen her dressed that way. I was still in my team travel clothes, my only pair of decent slacks, my only white shirt and a tie. We looked good together, like we were travelling on business. As if.

The room was a little fancier than the ones the team got, and of course it had one big bed. We got twins. There was better furniture and the carpet looked newer. There was a bottle of something on the table. It was open. I walked over and looked. Scotch. The good stuff. A Speyside single malt. I pretended to know a little about the good stuff, only because I couldn't afford it. As I was pouring a measure, Trish said, "Help yourself."

"Thanks. You?" She had a glass going already. This idle word playing was bullshit. It was time to shake things up a little.

"Trish, I'm here, you're here, so let's talk. I want to know what this has been all about. I want to hear your story. From the beginning and don't give me any crap about naïve drunken girls at a party."

Trish smiled and finally sat down in one of the chairs. I pulled the other one close and sat in it. She looked at me with a slight smile. "Had you going, didn't I?" I just raised my eyebrows and nodded. Yes she really had me going.

I shook my head slowly from side to side. "If you only knew how close you came to being strangled that first night. 'Well, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you.' That kind of crap can get you killed."

"You weren't going to hurt me. I like adventure but I don't take unnecessary risks. You did pretty much as I expected you would. Righteous male indignation, then anger, then accept and get it over with. What did please me was that you did keep trying to get me to talk. You didn't just write me off. Most guys would. You tried for several days, I recall. And then when I told how well I thought things had gone, you were livid! Passion. I liked that. You showed promise. Passion and power. Heady stuff."

"You were testing me. I want to call you names right now, but I won't"

"You don't want to call me names. Not bad ones, at least. Don't fib. It's beneath you."

I was tired. I was physically very tired, but I was alert and thinking. I sipped at the good stuff and thought about being tested, prodded, pushed, played with. It really wasn't all that bad. I had a few glorious sessions with her along the way. Got to force my first blow job, and what a joy to fuck her in her ass. Then I realized. I hadn't forced anything. She had. Trish was right. I might use bad words but only in truth...respect perhaps. She was here, a long way from campus. She obviously wanted something. I just didn't know what. I sighed. I wasn't anywhere near this woman's league. We were the same age. What had she been doing for the past several years?

All I could come up was, "Trish, you are a very bad girl." She giggled, just like Kris would do. Was Kris in on this?

"Spank me." Why not? I had never spanked a girl. Woman. Hard? Playful? Panties on or down? I only new that Trish would make sure I was off to a good start.

"Come here. " I sat up straight and put my knees together. Trish got up like a little schoolgirl and with a certain theatrical flair, lay herself across my knees. I lifted up her skirt and noticed real stockings and garter, and the most erotic lace panties I had ever seen. She was wearing a perfume I had never smelled before. It was very enticing. She looked at me as if to say,' well' and I gave her a few minutes to wait. I was enjoying seeing her very well dressed ass so close and personal. I gave her a whack, a little harder than I thought necessary. She jumped a bit and I felt her body move on my swelling penis. Okay, now I got it. This isn't to punish Trish. This is to pleasure me. Fun. Again, whack. "Ouch!" I think she meant it. "Be quiet."