tagMatureSpring Break

Spring Break


Spring Break is, ideally, a gigantic powwow where a conglomeration of not-yet-adults bare their bodies and rub their skin together as it drips with clear ocean water like they are in a Gatorade commercial (and maybe they are), while muffled hip hop surrounds their souls like an ecstatic Stockholm Syndrome and colors flash in the sunlight that never goes away and beer cascades through the air in slow-motion.

But that isn't what my spring break was, exactly. By the time my bud Dirk and I arrived at the beach in Miami, large swaths of it were closed off, most people had packed up and left, and it was colder than you'd ever think. All because our college lets out for spring about a week and a half later than everywhere else. By the time we got to the beach, we just stood there, staring. Dirk said; "Let's go to the hotel." We did, and we slept.

The next day was a little more interesting.

We stood in a tiki bar talking with two girls. One of them was Adrienne, who was a senior at Florida State University studying creative writing. The other was Anjali. She was doing an internship with a law firm down here in Miami. Her college was in California. She was originally from India, but she had no accent, so she must have moved here at a young age. She wore a blue blouse and bluer jeans, with a tear on one leg. That tear in her jeans was a desperate horny plea. Her hair was black enough to create dark contours against the tacky brown oak of the bar. Whenever a drink flashed in the light, her hair countered it.

I was playing it low-key. I started off with Adrienne, but Dirk consistently elbowed his way in there, and ultimately I gave him the ground.

While I sipped my Jack and Coke (don't even ask if they bother checking IDs in Florida), Anjali said to me; "So, like, do you get free passes to concerts and stuff."

I'd told her I was a roadie for The Dave Matthews Band. She loved it. I'd guessed she would.

"No," I said. "Not really. Dave and I don't get along too great."

"Why's that?"

I sighed while I came up with something.

"Oh, you know, me and his daughter," I said. "We may or may not have had something going on. It's all good now and me and her are totally friends. It's just, when her Dad found out, you know..."

Her eyes bugged out enough to stick to the ceiling.

"Oh my God," she said. "You can't be serious."

I nodded.

"Let's just say I keep a bat in my apartment."

The more I told her about Dave Matthews being a deranged psycho, the closer she moved toward me. As soon as it got to the point where I came back from the bar with two drinks and slid my hand down her shoulder after handing her drink over, I could see the deal was sealed. At around this time, Dirk and Adrienne split. Dirk's a pro.

Anjali and I sat on the steps outside the bar, passing a joint.

"I just, I can't believe it," she giggled. "My Mom would flip her shit if she knew I smoked pot. If she knew that I've already had three boyfriends and actually had...you know, relations with them...she'd kill me."

Three boyfriends.

I took a puff and pushed back a strand of her hair. A tear was in her eye.

"You seem like such a special person," I said. "An interesting woman, with such big ambitions. How could your Mom possibly not see that? Everything will work out fine."

She kissed me and her breath smelled of alcohol and something like breath-spray.

Women's lingerie kind of fascinates me. How do they manage it? I can imagine this silk or cotton thing pressing in to my skin, strapped on my chest all day, getting to be annoying as shit. That's why, before I fucked Anjali that night, I instructed her, after pulling her panties down her slim dark legs with my teeth, to leave her bra on. I planned on removing it myself. She took her hands away from her back and scooped them under my head and pulled me up to her mouth. I ran my hand across her un-groomed mound and slid two fingers inside. She was already wet. She jerked her head away from mine as if totally surprised that any guy would finger her. Her wide-eyed expression—not far off from her Dave Matthews expression—compelled me to slide in a third finger. I swished my index finger far enough up the folds of her clit until I felt the ridged area near the back and it was like Columbus discovering America. I'm convinced that not all girls have a G-Spot. Anjali did and I doubt she knew it herself until then. I stroked the ridge with my finger and she gripped the nape of my neck like she was holding on to a ship's mast and moaned and panted as making a confession. I stroked until the ridge had swelled in to a blob pushing against my fingers. My pinky was missing out on all the action, so I changed up my fingers, giving the index finger some fresh air. I pressed against her G-spot and she shook.

She bowed her head to my ear to tell me a secret. It was aaah aaaah! Aaaaaahhhh. She reached between her legs and grabbed my wrist and pulled my fingers away.

"You're going to make me cum if you keep doing that," she whispered. She stepped backwards to her bed, eyes shut and half fell, half-lay down on her back. Her vagina glistened messy in the dark light, agape from the work of my fingers. I heard the sounds of a female moaning the next room over. It was Adrienne. Dirk and Adrienne were at it.

"Oh God, I can hear them," Anjali whispered with a grin, eyes still shut.

I took the condom out of my pocket and rolled it on. I stepped toward her.

"This is awkward," she laughed, reaching out to me as I leaned in to her.

"It's not awkward at all," I said.

As I heard the springs of the bed in the next room creak and Adrienne's noises, I thought, This is war, Dirk.

A few minutes later, I stared down at Anjali's bra-enclosed tits. She wore a crimson red bra which was tight against the dark skin of her tits, probably a perfect D cup. I was inside her and holding her hip with one hand, but I barely focused on what my cock felt like in her pussy. I focused on how to get that bra off, what to do with it, and how to beat Dirk. Adrienne was loud as shit. Dirk himself was kind of loud. Anjali only sighed and breathed in and out, nervously enjoying herself. When I heard Dirk growl "Come on," I knew he was talking more to me than to his dick.

I slid my hands under Anjali's back like I was caressing her. I knew she would let me do what I was going to do. She arched upward and shut her eyes tighter, and said Ooooh! Ooooh. I felt around her skin until my fingers pinched the rough bulge of the clasp on her bra. I flicked my thumb against the clasp—just as Dirk had shown me years before—and the hooks unfastened. I took one strap in one hand and she extended her arm to help me remove it. I yanked it off the other arm and held it in the air to my right like a trophy for a few moments while I kissed her and shifted forward so I moved deeper in to her and felt her legs curl around my waist.

I almost said something like "You can thank me later," but that would have been gay. I buried my face in between both her tits while I moved harder and she got a little louder. In the other room, it sounded like Dirk had gotten Adrienne to yell Daddy, so I knew I had to move. I slid the bra between our stomachs and curved it around where my groin met her's. I stuffed it down on the sheets and the silk grazed her pussy. I maneuvered it right under my balls and when I felt it grazing my balls, I knew it would be tickling her. Anjali was busy tightening her arms around my back.

She began giggling, trembling upward from her legs with shivers. It was working. She opened her mouth wide and I stared straight down her mouth while she began screaming in excitement. I knew she wasn't faking her orgasm by the way she jerked her head upward and opened her mouth wider, and even wider, in total silence, before curling in to a ball as she rubbed her face against my chest and said Oh God again and again between spasms and sighs. She bit my nipple. Adrienne screamed louder. Someone banged on the wall. I wasn't sure if it was Dirk or Adrienne. My body had moved away from Anjali's crumpled bra by this point, but I still pulled out of her while still shooting my load and smacked my condomed cock on her sheet and when I moved backwards I felt my balls and cock flutter against wrinkled, stringy silk; her bra. I lay my head on her chest. My nose faced the direction of her vagina and I smelled sex drying on her and listened to her heart rate return to normal.

"I think," she said after several minutes, "that my bra was really...tickling me."

"Damn," I said. "That's what that was? I'm sorry, babe."

"No," she said, caressing my head. "It felt so, so good."

I stood in her bathroom and flexed my muscles as I looked in her mirror. Now at least my ribcage was no longer visible; I'd been eating more fattening dining hall food at school. But my abs did jut out, if not quite enough. I backed up and flexed my legs. They were the strongest part of my body. My cock was sore and red, tired of being inserted in to vaginas. I hadn't masturbated in over a month; that was the kind of spree I was on and I had no intention of stopping. I tore off some toilet paper and rubbed the sticky condom glaze off my cock, threw the condom in the toilet, put on my boxers and went back to Anjali's bed, where I passed out. Anjali sat on the edge of the bed, looking in the mirror, playing with her hair.

The next morning, I stayed with Anjali long enough to watch an episode of Mad Men. Jon Hamm cheated on his wife again and got drunk again and did his wide-jaw grin again. I couldn't understand the appeal of the show, but Anjali was transfixed. She wore a shirt and her underwear. I placed a hand on her bare leg and moved it up to her thigh. She took this to mean I was a tender guy who wanted to get to know her better, and I let her.

I left the room, saying that yes, we would hang out again and took out my phone as soon as she closed the door and deleted her number. I saw two foreign girls in only their swimsuits and sunglasses, speaking in German, I think, and made eye contact with one of them. I went to my and Dirk's double bedroom. He wasn't there. I read some of Portnoy's Complaint. I got some more rest.

"I bet you think you actually won that game," Dirk said.

We sat on the beach, smoking cigarettes.

"Yeah," I said, shrugging. "I do."

"Did you fuck her only once?"

I looked at him.

"Yeah," I said.

"Did you have anybody knock on your wall yelling at you to keep it down?"

"No..." I said.

"Great, because I'd already fucked Adrienne once by the time you two got started, and during the second time someone banged on our wall. Dirk; 1. Dennis; 0."

He took a long draw of his cigarette.

"Doing it once before is cheating," I said. "And you know it."

"I taught you the moan game, kid," said Dirk. "Don't tell me the rules. When I showed you, you'd gotten laid, what, once, two times?"

I said nothing.

"It hasn't been too long since then," Dirk said. "And I doubt you play it with your secret-frat buddies up at school."

"That lasted about six weeks," I said through clenched teeth.


"We have to figure out who to go for tonight," I said.

Dirk stared at me.

"The same chicks," he said.

"What? Dirk are you nuts?"

"No, but I have a couple swinging from my dick. Those same women need more of our attention. And they want it. Don't be such a misogynistic ass, Dennis."

He almost cracked up as he said this.

Dirk tossed his cigarette on to the sidewalk near the sand.

"Shit," he said. "Smoking is bad for you."

I wasn't in to Dirk's plan. So that night, I ignored him. I got trashed at a bar further downtown in Miami and hit on several groups of girls. None of them were interested. I vaguely remember some big dude stepping between me and some other chick and yelling in my face. I swung at him. He socked me in the face. I remember me throwing a chair. We were restrained by bouncers and I was thrown to the pavement. I woke up in our hotel room the next morning with a white hospital bracelet on my wrist and a bandage on my cheek. I didn't recall anything.

Dirk was, once again, not there. I checked my phone and saw a ton of texts from Anjali. I only knew it was her because the first message said; "Hey this is Anjali."

I drank coffee and rehearsed a plan. I would go to her room and we'd have a quick pity fuck. I wasn't sure how functional my cock would be after the previous night, but I'd manage. I would make sure that she sucked my cock for at least five minutes. I don't leave these situations without lips having been around my cock. I'd tell her I didn't think she was my type, get dressed and go.

I arrived at her room and rang the bell. Nothing happened. I rang it again. I thought she probably wasn't there. But she opened the door and stood with her arms crossed, once again wearing a t-shirt and her underwear. In the background, buck-naked: Dirk.

I couldn't fucking believe it.

"Hi Dennis," she said, matter of a fact.

"Hey..." I said. "What!?"

There was a pause.

"What," she said, "is you're a neglectful shit-brain. You promise me we'll hang out again, and you don't answer my texts. 'It's okay, Anjali, you're such a special person. Your Mom just doesn't realize it.'"

She pointed a finger at me.

"Bullshit. You just wanted to have sex with me. You're a shithead male stereotype, do you know that? Well, guess what? Two can play at the game you're playing. How old are you, anyway?"

"Nineteen. What the fuck does that matter, you—"

She looked kind of surprised.

"Nineteen," she said. "Well I don't know how many women you play these games with, but I hope you get AIDS before your twenty-fifth birthday."

"Thanks for granting me that six-year window," I said as the door shut on me. I walked away. The door opened behind me and I heard Dirk call, "We're still on buddy."

At first, when Anjali had used the word game, I'd thought that Dirk had let her in on the moan game. But I realized she was more likely referring to me being a manipulative douche. But I now saw what Dirk meant when he'd said, "No. Those same chicks."

I bought a coke from the machine downstairs. I took a long swig and thought of how two would, indeed, play at that game.

It took a lot of searching but I found Adrienne sitting on the beach, alone, talking on her cell phone. Freedom, by Jonathan Franzen lay beside her on a towel. I pretended not to notice her. I removed my shirt and went in the water. It was the second time I'd been in the water, and the first time I'd been in the water sober, and it was really, really cold. I dealt with it.

Finally, Adrienne finished her call and just blankly stared at me. I glanced at her out of my peripherals. After a minute of that, she called out, "Hey. You."

It took longer to seduce Adrienne. Not to say she didn't want it, just that she deliberately played harder to get. I didn't give her any lines about Dave Matthews, because I knew she was smarter than that. By the time we sat on the patio at the bar, I'd realized I would just have to start insulting her for her to really want me. I made her recite one of her poems to me and told her it was garbage. When her hair fell in front of her face—she had long hair—she would constantly sweep it back, briskly, as if it were a fly. I told her that she looked much sexier as Cousin It. She thought that was hilarious.

We started making out on that patio. I massaged her bare legs, covered only at the top by cheap-looking green shorts and didn't even try to resist fingering her in public. She let me slip two fingers under her shorts and panties and I located the folds of her vagina. She let me rub around the surface of her clit for a minute, before pulling my hand away and saying, "Okay, not here."

She looked at me with her head tilted down, wondering if she should, in fact, take this guy upstairs.

"Do you ever do blow?" she asked.


"Cocaine..." she said in a lower voice.

I shrugged. "There's a time and a place for everything."

Up in her room, she cut the lines on a makeup mirror. She snorted one, I snorted one. She did another, I did another. I had never done coke before, but I felt this jolt in my brain that said suddenly, everything I wanted to happen would happen. I already believe anything is possible; the obscene amount of sex I get at my age is a testament to that belief. But this tipped the scales; anything was now going to happen. No questions. Also, I felt like I'd drank five red bulls at once. That too.

She did one more line, I begged off. She sat back in her chair, her head tilted, looking at the ceiling and rubbing her nose.

She wheeled her head down so it was level and stared at me for some moments, studying my face.

"Just so you know," she said, "I'm just having fun. This is a one-time thing. Okay?"

I didn't bother to nod. I took her by the shoulders, hoisted her up and kissed her while backing her against the wall. I pulled off her shirt, yanked her shorts down and stuck my hand in her panties and inside her clit. I went in deep and found a fold of wetness and worked on that fold until it expanded and she stroked my cock and tilted her head back against the wall. The way she gasped may have sounded louder because I was high, or she may have been more in to it because she was high. I pulled her panties down as I zoomed down to my knees and licked and fingered her pussy for several minutes. She was tight and clean-shaven, unlike Anjali. My tongue swiped a line from thigh to thigh and she threaded several fingers through my hair. I realized, as I briefly licked her thigh, what I should do.

Still crouching, I backed her up to the bed and backed her down so she lay there. I went to the mirror with the coke, picked up the dollar bill she was using, scooped up about a line and took it to her, lying there and peering at me. I knelt down and dumped the coke on her stomach just above her pussy and with my fingers formed it in to a line. Some of it stuck to my fingers which were wet from being inside her and I just wiped it on her sheets.

"Dennis," she said. "Oh my God. Seriously."

I placed both my hands on her cheeks and bent over her so our noses were touching.

"You said you're just having fun," I said. "This is me just having fun. And I know you will like it."

She gave me a hard stare, bit her lip and nodded.

I leaned in, buried my tongue inside her and flicked it from side to side really quickly as I moved upward in an arch. My tongue left her clit and hit light prickles of shaved pubes and I inhaled as I moved my head up to the center of her chest and felt the coke zip in my nostrils. She yelped and her body spasmed. As soon as I was done, I rested my head on her chest for a few moments, but she sat up and pushed me forward and next thing I knew her mouth was around my cock, furiously sucking it while her legs clamped around my legs as if I might escape. I nutted in her mouth in about three minutes and she tilted her head back, again, as if having done more coke, and swallowed three times. I stepped back and almost fell against her window. I felt so fucking good in that moment and shut my eyes. The next room over, I heard the door shut and Dirk and Anjali talking in whispers.

I began laughing. I heard her chuckle. I opened my eyes and burst out laughing and she burst out laughing also. Her cheeks were red and it looked almost as if she'd been crying. She sat up and looked down at her stomach, quickly, with an embarrassed grin, and back up at me with a grin that could not believed I had persuaded her in to this situation.

We just looked at each other. I could hear Dirk and Anjali getting busy, but we had a head start. Lots of sheet-rustling and Anjali's soft, half-mouthed moans (she was probably just getting fingered at this point). Adrienne could, too, because she glanced over at the wall.

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byronald87© 3 comments/ 20669 views/ 1 favorites

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