The Perversion of Amy

I liked Amy from the first day I met her. She looked like a typical Jersey Girl; tiny (barely five feet tall), slender and tanned, with long, wavy brown hair and big brown eyes and immaculately polished nails. She was in fact from some small town in central New Jersey. She acted, however, nothing like the stereotype: she was fiercely feminist, soft spoken, serious, and incredibly intelligent. She was my first roommate in college, and she was majoring in math.

As roommates, we got along well, although she was neat and tidy, and I was a bit of a slob. Luckily both of us were tolerant and easy-going.

At the time, I was discovering and exploring my sexuality. I lost my virginity that fall, and had sex with a girl for the first time. I guess I assumed that Amy must be doing some exploring of her own, although we had never talked about it.

We were all hanging out in the dorm one stormy Saturday in January; Me, Amy, and our friend Rachel. Rachel was telling a hilarious story about leaving her vibrator out when her parents came to visit, and having to sit on it to hide it, then trying to stash it before her parents could see it. I mentioned that I had just gotten a silicon dildo. I loved it because it felt really nice, and it was easy to clean.

"There's something about those latex ones that feels a little gross."

"But aren't the silicon ones expensive?" asked Rachel.

"Yeah, but it's worth it!" And I lounged back, spreading my legs suggestively. Rachel laughed and laughed. I noticed that Amy looked shocked.

"Don't tell me you've never used a vibrator?"

"Ok, I won't tell you that." Amy deadpanned.

"But you masturbate, right?" Rachel piped up.

"No." Amy said.

"Never?"

"Well I tried once." Amy was blushing. "But it didn't really work... It seemed kind of pointless."

"Wow." I couldn't imagine not masturbating. That was what had gotten me through high school. Heck, it was getting me through college. My sex life wasn't as active as I would have liked it to be.

Amy was a virgin, which seemed strange to me, as she was also a vehement atheist. She told me that it had nothing to do with morals; she wanted to save her first time for her husband, the man she truly loved and wanted to spend her life with. I could respect that, but that outlook was not for me! She didn't go out much anyway. I don't think she dated at all our freshman year. She studied hard, and was always deep in textbooks full of numbers and symbols that I didn't understand.

One Friday night in February, we went to a friend's party, and we both got a little drunk. Now, I don't mean shit faced; we weren't having trouble walking or talking or anything like that; just a little silly and drunk. I realized, in hindsight, that I had never seen Amy intoxicated before.

We stumbled, giggling, into our dorm room. I can't swear to it (my memory is a little fuzzy), but I'm pretty sure she started the kissing. We stumbled onto my bed, locked tight in an embrace, kissing passionately, exploring each others mouths with our tongues, attacking and teasing. She was a good kisser. I slipped my hand under her shirt as I kissed my way down her neck. I couldn't believe this was happening. My nipples were hard and erect. My clit was singing. I was incredibly excited. I'd never thought seriously about fooling around with Amy; now that it was happening, I realized that I had been attracted to her from the start. She reached behind herself, unsnapping her bra. My hand found her firm little breast, her hard excited nipple. She groaned and arched her back. I pulled off her t-shirt, revealing her beautiful little bust. She had firm little breasts, with tight, slightly upturned brown nipples. I dropped my mouth to suckle at her breast as my fingers fumbled with the fly of her blue jeans.

"Andrea—stop. I'm sorry, stop."

I stopped, and sat up.

"I'm sorry." She said. "I just can't do this."

"It's ok." I said. "It's ok."

We each went to our own bed. I had to masturbate; I was too worked up to sleep. I wondered if Amy could hear me from her bed.

In the morning I realized that I had fallen in love with her. She avoided me all day. That evening, I cornered her.

"Amy, we should talk about last night."

"I don't want to talk about it. Nothing happened."

"Look, it doesn't have to be anything. It doesn't ever have to happen again. But I'd like to talk about it."

"It didn't happen."

And so it was. Things got back to normal between us, and we never talked about that night. But I remembered.

We got an apartment together the next year. Amy was dating a boy, Neil, and seemed really happy. He was a nice guy. Too nice, in my opinion; if I was less charitable, I would have called him milquetoast. But as long as Amy was happy... Anyway, I was involved in a relationship myself. For the first time, I was dating a girl who I thought I was in love with, and wanted to have a long term thing with. It was strange exciting and fun and took a lot of my time and energy.

"How do you and Laura have sex?"

"What?" We were sitting at the table, eating breakfast together.

"I mean, do you use strap-ons or whatever?"

I knew I was blushing deep red. We had, in fact, just purchased a dildo and harness. "Well, yeah, sometimes. But we don't need one to have sex. Umm mostly we go down on each other. Oral sex. Why do you ask?"

"I was just curious." Amy said, and ate a spoonful of her Cheerios. "Neil wants me to give him a blowjob."

"Well you know you don't have to. If he really cares about you, he'll respect that." Actually, I wasn't sure about that.

"No, I want to do it; I just don't know how to go about it."

"It's not that hard. Just suck and rub and remember not to use your teeth. Do what comes naturally. If you want, I could probably loan you a video."

I hadn't sucked a dick in over a year; I had sworn off men. But I still loved blowjobs.

"No, I guess I'll just figure it out. How do you tell when he's ready to come?"

"Oh, you'll know."

"Should I let him come in my mouth?"

"That's up to you."

"Would you?"

"Yes."

Life went on. My relationship with Laura became more tumultuous, more stressful; the sex got hotter and kinkier, more urgent. Amy and Neil were still seeing each other. The subject of blowjobs never came up again.

Amy came knocking on my door late one night. I was asleep. As I struggled up through layers of sleep, I realized that she was upset. She was in tears.

"I'm pregnant. Jesus Andrea, I'm fucking pregnant."

I held her as she cried, telling her it was going to be ok. Eventually she cried herself to sleep. We slept together in my bed, and I held her all night.

She went alone to the clinic the next day. I offered to go with her, but she insisted. She never mentioned Neil's name again.

That spring, I was in the middle of breaking up with Laura. It was epic. We would have tremendous fights, make up, have fantastic sex, then fight again. It was exhausting.

I came home one afternoon after one of our last fights, more drained than angry. I don't even remember what it was we had been fighting about. I unlocked the door, stepping into our apartment.

Amy was bent over the couch, naked. An older guy, naked but for his shoes and his jeans crumbled about the ankles was fucking her from behind. He was big and muscular, covered in tattoos, with a shaved head and multiple earrings. Another guy, a bearded biker type with a big belly was standing behind the couch, wearing nothing but a leather vest. Amy was sucking his dick as she got fucked. He was stroking her hair and calling her a good little cocksucker. Her legs were spread wide. The other guy slapped her ass as he fucked her. His wet cock slid in and out of her pussy. I could see that he was wearing a condom. 'Well thank god.' I thought to myself.

"Excuse me." I said out loud. I got a beer out of the refrigerator, and locked myself in my room.

The next year we didn't live together. We were still best friends, but we didn't hang out very much: I was busy with schoolwork, and Amy was incredibly busy with her studies. She got her bachelors degree that year, and went straight on to graduate school at Stanford.

We kept in touch over the years, as I graduated and launched my career, and started paying back my student loans; and as Amy got her PhD (in Algebraic Topology), and her first full professorship.

I got a card from her one day in June, asking me to come down and visit her in Stamford the next weekend. We had exchanged cards and emails, and talked on the phone ever since she had graduated, but we hadn't seen each other in six years. I admit that I was nervous.

She met me at the train station. In some ways, it looked like she hadn't changed at all: she was still slim and tan, and still wore her trademark blue converse sneakers and blue jeans along with a white blouse. There was a fine silver chain around her neck, with a green stone set in it. She looked more mature than when we had last seen each other, and I could make out lines on her face that hadn't been there before, but her big brown eyes still had the same life and intensity.

We had lunch at an outdoor café, and caught up. The chemistry, the friendship that had always been present between us was still there. Soon, we were chatting and laughing as if no time at all had passed.

"Listen, Andrea" she said as we relaxed over our iced-tea "I'd like it if you spent the night."

My head spun: memories of love, lust unfulfilled came rushing back. I had dated both men and women over the years, but I never let anyone get close, I never let a relationship develop too much. It was as if I was afraid to let anyone really get to know me. I realized, though I guess I had known it all along, that I was in love with Amy.

"Amy" I said "Do you mean...?"

"Yes."

"I don't know if I can." I said honestly "I don't think I can face the morning after."

"I was really young before" she said, looking down at the table "but I'd like for you to stay a really long time."

We went back to her house (she had her own house!). The drive over there was almost silent. My head was swimming, my heart was racing.

Amy kissed me, and I kissed her back. Our kiss lasted a long time. It was beautiful. It felt right. She took me by the hand, and led me upstairs to her bedroom. We tumbled into bed, kissing and touching and caressing. Clothes went flying. She was still beautiful. She obviously worked out; her body was toned, her breasts were still firm and pert. I noticed a few stray hairs peeking out from her black bikini panties. I wanted to be inside those panties. I wanted her.

"Andrea" she said, looking me in the eye "I need you to do this for me. I need you to punish me."

"What?"

"Please" she said "Just do it."

She reached into a box under her bed, and handed me a set of leather wrist restraints. Not knowing what else to do, I fastened her hands together, then using a short section of rope (also from the box under her bed), tied her wrists to the headboard. She knelt on the bed, ass thrust out, breasts hanging down, facing the wall.

There were a number of items in the box: dildos and vibrators of various sizes and descriptions; lubricant,a blindfold and a ball gag, among other things.

I slapped her across her panty covered ass. It made a satisfying smack, and made my hand sting.

"Was that too hard?" I asked nervously.

"Please don't ask that. Do it harder. I want it to hurt. I want you to fucking hurt me. I'll tell you if it's too much."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"I want you to. Please Andrea, I need this. Please do it for me."

I slapped her ass again and again until my hand was sore. I lost track of how many times I hit her. She took it silently. Something changed in me. I saw red. I became determined to make her cry out.

I ripped her panties off, exposing her ass, white and supple, covered in red handprints from where I had hit her. Fumbling in the box, I pulled out her biggest dildo, a large black one, with four rows of studs running up the shaft. I forced her thighs apart, spreading her pussy. She was wet. I jammed the dildo up her cunt in one violent thrust.

I grabbed a hairbrush off her side table and started beating her ass with it. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted to hurt her. Angry red welts appeared. I hit her ass again and again, harder and harder. Finally, the handle snapped in half.

I pulled the dildo out of her pussy. It was slimy, covered in her juice. I spread her cheeks and pressed the tip against the puckered ring of her anus.

"no" she whimpered. I ignored her. I grabbed a handful of her hair and pressed the toy against her asshole. She was tight back there. It was hard to get it inside. I pushed and twisted it until it was buried all the way up her. I poured lube all over my hand and shoved three fingers up her pussy. She was hot inside; hot and incredibly wet. Her vagina seemed to grasp me, to pull my fingers inside. I added another finger, then my thumb, and suddenly my whole hand was up her cunt. I could feel the rough texture of the dildo in her rectum.

I fucked her with my fist, pulling her hair and screaming "Is that enough? Is that enough?"

I realized that we were both crying. I let my hand slip out of her distended pussy, let the dildo slide out of her ass as I untied her hands. We held each other for a long time, sobbing together uncontrollably. After that we had sex again, real sex. It was gentle, joyful, awkward and tender. We drank each other and came and came until we couldn't anymore. Then we fell asleep in each others arms.

We've never done the S&M thing again, which is good because it's really not my bag. Our sex is variously kinky, energetic, spontaneous, and loving. And every night I know that I will wake up with her next to me in bed.