Alan Ch. 16

concentrating on. A slightly wicked thought entered his mind, a very small seed of a plan, though germinating rapidly into a full-bloomed course of action. He entered her busy mind and made a few modifications, both to her mind and to her body, among other things ramping up her latent (though since Scarlet's revelation, much less latent) curiosity about girl-girl sex.

She looked up, catching him staring at her face, and she blushed.

"What?" she asked playfully, twirling a finger coquettishly through her raven-hued locks. She giggled.

"Oh, nothing really. I'm all done here. How much longer do you have?"

Kate told him not much longer, and Alan volunteered to photocopy the articles she wanted to take back to the dorm for later consideration.

* * *

Later that night in bed Kate awoke with a start, shaken by the potency of her wet dream. In the dream Kate was reliving her encounter with Alan and Kim Hall in the latter's guidance office.

Alan had thrown one helluva good ass fucking at her that morning, but her dream kept spinning her back to the interplay between herself and Mrs. Hall. On that morning all those months ago she had stripped Mrs. Hall out of her clothes and played with the older woman's nipples, then Alan had sprayed their faces with his yummy come. In the past when her mind had revisited that particular episode she glossed over the parts when she and Kim Hall had touched each other, but now they were front and center, rolling feverishly around all corners of her brain.

As quietly as she could Kate got out of bed and peeled off her sticky panties, tossing them into the small hamper she kept by the door. As she was pulling on a dry pair she realized the flow of juices secreting from her burning hot pussy had not abated, so she crept back into bed bare beneath her long cotton nightgown. It was just as well; she really needed to frig herself off anyway, knowing somehow she would never be able to sleep without first finding release. Thank God Scarlet had come home drunk this Saturday night/Sunday morning; if she was lucky she would still be able to make a little noise when she came.

Barely two minutes later Kate was astounded by the sheer brute force of her climax, and even though she was doing her best to stifle her howls she froze in terror when she saw Scarlet start to stir. Her nipples were so hard, and seemed to her so scorchingly hot that she thought she could actually feel the metal of the rings which pierced each one start to soften. It was to her great relief that her slumbering roommate merely rolled over and continued to snooze.

Kate was still gasping for breath a few minutes later, flat on her back. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, that felt good," she thought to herself. After catching her breath she slowly reached under the blanket and ran a hand over her still-drooling pussy. Maybe forgoing panties was a mistake; as her orgasm hit Kate had felt an enormous spray ('A spray!' she marveled) of come shoot out of her slit. Her nightgown was soaked with her warm girl juice, practically from the waist to the hem, for the fabric of it had been bunched up on her thighs just below her crotch.

In the end it took more than five minutes for her to even gather up the stamina to sit up in bed, and more to make it across the room so she could have her sopping nightgown join her drenched panties in the hamper. She hadn't enough energy to strip off the moist sheets from the bed, so she reluctantly slipped back in between them; immediately her fresh nightgown began to become sodden from the residual dampness on her bedding.

She need not have bothered. Four more times before the sun came up she was jolted out of similar dreams, each time to find herself soaked from waist to toes with fresh gushing torrents of warm sticky girl come, each time having to masturbate before falling back asleep, bringing forth yet more streams of ejaculate, never once working up the strength of will to get out of bed and change.

She woke early, making sure she was

up well before Scarlet. Her sheets and blanket were tacky from all her semi-dried spendings. She hadn't planned on doing any laundry that day, but nevertheless she stripped the bed, even flipped the mattress, bagged up sheets and blanket with the contents of the hamper, and took it all to wash. If she was lucky she would be back upstairs before Scarlet woke up to her hangover. She considered taking something to read in the laundry room, but didn't.

She had some serious thinking to do.

Waiting for the elevator she jerked with the realization that in one of her dreams she was making love, no, fucking Scarlet, and in another she was fucking someone named Mistress Randa, though she didn't have the slightest clue as to who she was.

"Are you going to use that washer?" a girl she didn't know was asking her impatiently.

Kate snapped out of her trance. A minute before she had opened her laundry bag while standing in front of this machine, and was instantly transfixed by the delicious odor emanating from within it. Who knew pussy juice smelled so fantastic? Surely not Katie Van Devanter; at least not until today.

She had some serious thinking to do.

After setting off the washer on its cycle she stepped out for some much needed fresh air. Though it was chilly out Kate felt very warm on the inside. She sat on a bench, her mind racing a million miles per hour. She thought if she sat perfectly still she would be able to ignore the gooey wetness in her panties, a wetness threatening to escape out and seep straight through her blue jeans. Thirsty, so very very thirsty; that was her next order of business.

She had some serious thinking to do.

* * *

"Patel?"

"I am here, Your Lordship."

"Report."

"It is ready, Your Lordship."

"You've done well, though I expected nothing less."

"You are far too kind, Your Lordship."

"I will see you in New York." Lord Thornbow replaced the secure telephone unit's receiver to its base. He pressed a button, and a liveried servant entered holding a silver tray with a crystal glass and a decanter of brandy. The servant placed the tray before his employer on the desk, bowed curtly and left. They did not exchange words.

Next Chapter: A Thanksgiving weekend to remember, or perhaps not.