Amy Says Yes

"A cunt's a cunt, eh, Bro?" grinned Mike. "What did you say her name was?"

"Amy, um, Martin. No - Amy Marsh."

2. Coffee with Mike

Back in her dorm room, Amy undressed, showered, put on a nighty, selected some toys from her top dresser drawer, and reviewed the night's events. Clearly the Amy Scale would have to be revised, since she'd already decided that her orgasm with what's-his-name, the frat boy, had rated twelve on her one-to-ten scale ("Sex with jerk, cowgirl, A121"). But how high should the scale go? Twenty? Fifty? She had no way of knowing how good an orgasm could get.

Nor was she sure she'd ever find out. She wasn't dumb enough to believe she'd just found a boyfriend. She recognized what she'd just experienced as a hookup, and that was fine with her: by the end of the evening she'd correctly sized up her date as shallow and dim, and she didn't want to see him again.

She did, however, want more nights like tonight. She lubricated a vibrating butt plug, lay on her back, inserted it, and turned it on. Applying an egg vibrator to her clitoris, she wondered how she could go about getting more sex.

By the time she'd brought herself off ("Vibrators ass and clit, A061"), she was no closer to an answer. She was, however, much calmer and more relaxed, and she went to bed and slept soundly.

Fortune was smiling on Amy, for, if what's-his-name had put her out of his mind, Mike, the brother he'd met in the common room, had not. Indeed, Mike had looked her up in the online campus directory, and at the precise moment that Amy's sphincter was delightfully contracting around the stem-end of her butt plug, her name and email were flashing onto his computer screen. By the time she'd had her orgasm, he had composed what he thought a very fine email to her:

Hi Amy,
My friend John told me your smart and fun, and if your really into him know problem but wondering if your free tomorrow (I mean Saterday) for coffee just ot, like check me out.
Mike

Amy found this epistolary masterpiece in the morning, and with some effort succeeded in deciphering both its literal meaning and its deeper significance. She replied,

Hi Mike,
I'll be glad to meet you. Starbucks at three? I'll be carrying a copy of Molecular Biology of the Cell. It's bright pink.
Amy

Amy thought the pink textbook was a nice touch. She toasted and buttered a bagel and studied her Anthro while she ate. When she checked her email again, she found a note that read, "Cool! See you then. Mike."

Amy devoted an hour of her afternoon to thinking about the coming encounter, planning, and preparing.

Mike was not at all dismayed by the blinking, round, bespectacled face that peered up at him from a table over against a window at Starbucks, for when he'd said "A cunt's a cunt" the night before, he'd been voicing his own philosophy. He liked sex as well as the next brother, but he was lazier than most of them and unwilling to put in the effort that obtaining a high-status sorority girl required. Among the feminine graces, easiness rated much higher with him than beauty - and if John was to be believed, this girl was very easy indeed.

Amy wasn't disappointed either, if only because the email he'd sent her had raised such modest expectations. Not that Mike was objectionable. He wasn't handsome by any means, but he was large and fit, and she thought his body would probably be fun to play with. However, she suspected that any time spent talking to him would be a trial.

She wasn't wrong in that. After he'd gotten his drink (Venti Caramel Macchiato), he said, "So, you're like, into biology?"

"I'm a biology major," she said.

"Cool," he said, and then "Cool" again. He strained for a moment to think of something else to say and finally came up with "That's a pretty tough major, isn't it? Like not a lot of girls major in science, right?"

"There are more than you'd think," she said, wondering what planet this idiot was from.

"That's cool," said Mike, and again he said, "That's cool." He paused a long time, face blank, and finally blurted, "I'm majoring in like business and I play Lacrosse."

"I'm sure both of those are very interesting," said Amy, wondering how much time had passed but feeling it would be rude to look too often at the clock on the wall.

"There's lots of math in biology, right?" asked Mike.

"There is when you're in the B.S. track," she said.

"I'm studying like accounting right now," he said.

"Uh Huh," she said. She risked a glance at the clock: only five minutes had passed since he'd sat down. She'd go mad if she had to put up with much more of this.

"There's lots of math in accounting," he said.

"Look, Mike," said Amy. "You're going to ask me to dinner, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so," said Mike.

"And after that you're hoping I'll go to your room with you and have sex, because I had sex with . . . with . . ."

"John," Mike prompted.

"Yeah," Amy said. "Am I right?"

"Right about what?"

"That you'll want to have sex with me."

Mike wasn't used to this kind of talk, and his intuition, besides, was that in matters pertaining to sex, honesty wasn't usually the best policy. But he couldn't say he didn't want sex, because then . . . well, he wouldn't get any.

"Um, I guess," he said.

"Well, I can tell you right now that I'm going to say yes to all the questions you ask to get me up to your room."

"Um," said Mike.

"So why don't we, like, skip dinner and the questions and go to your room right now."

Mike stared at her, struggling to parse what she'd said, which, if he'd understood it right, was entirely outside his experience. "So . . . you're saying . . ."

"Let's go fuck, Mike," said Amy impatiently.

Mike gave himself a few seconds to ponder her words. Women were subtle and mysterious creatures, and it was always wise to be on one's guard when talking to them; and yet what she had said didn't seem all that mysterious. It sounded like maybe she was ready to have sex with him right now.

"Okay, sure," he said.

"Good," she said and stood up.

In his room at Alpha house, Mike stood awkwardly, not knowing quite what to do. It wasn't lack of experience that was giving him pause: he knew, at least in outline, the rituals one performed to cajole an ostensibly reluctant girl into bed. What he didn't know was what to do with a girl who needed no cajoling.

Inwardly, Amy breathed a sigh of exasperation. By this time, James Deen would have had her up against the wall with his fingers plunged deep in her pussy. It seemed she'd have to take matters into her own hands again. She advanced on him in a clumsy dance, and when she was almost close enough for her breasts to brush the cotton of his shirt, she reached up (it really was a reach, since he was very tall) and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

This strange girl's aggressiveness made Mike nervous: he was a traditionalist who valued the illusion that he was in control of his sexual encounters. But he couldn't deny the effect she had on him when, having pushed his shirt off his shoulders, she reached for his belt buckle and undid his pants, which fell down around his feet.

This was one of her favorite moments in a porn scene, when the woman dropped to her knees in front of a man, his cock making an enormous bulge in his underwear as Mike's was doing now. On her knees, Amy nuzzled that bulge, gave it a little bite through the white cotton, and was gratified by his "Oh!" of fear and pleasure.

"Yeah," she said to the bulge, hooked her fingers over the blue-striped elastic of his briefs, and pulled sharply down.

He was big, no question about it, and curved upwards like a scimitar. This one might be more of a challenge than what's-his-name had been, but she was sure she was equal to it. She took it in her two hands and pulled it down far enough that she could get the end in her mouth, and then she paused, stimulating the glans with her lips and tongue. A shiver ran through him and into her, through her lips and tongue, her nipples, her pussy. She took him deeper and deeper till she felt him press past her epiglottis into her pharynx. Oh my, was he big - he might snake right through her and tickle her clit from the inside!

His cock wasn't that long, of course, but if it had been she might well have been able to take it, so skilled was she. Like his fraternity brother of the night before, he'd had his share of blowjobs (if not quite as many as he bragged of), but he'd never seen a girl's nose smashed against his pubis before. He was so astonished he nearly lost control of himself and had to conjure up an image of his Aunt Phoebe's fat greasy face to keep himself from coming.

Mike knew he should give some consideration to how the action should proceed from here, but he was having more than the usual amount of difficulty forming coherent thoughts. This occasioned some anxiety, but he needn't have worried, for Amy had come with a program, which she was now determinedly carrying out.

She let him slide out of her mouth, reached for her purse, and took from it a small bottle of lubricant, which she drizzled onto his cock. He gasped as she jerked him off to spread it around and came close to coming without being touched at all when she stood up, dropped her pants, and said, looking straight at him, "Put it in my ass."

She got down on the floor on her elbows and knees and waited for him to obey her command. But he'd never done this before. Oh, he'd once made the claim, after his date last October with Jennifer Watson, but that had been a slander - revenge because she hadn't even let him get to first base.

Jerking off to keep himself hard, Mike tried to muster the little knowledge he possessed on the subject of anal sex. Like the girl whose tight pink anus was now glaring at him impatiently, he'd watched lots of porn, but unlike her, he hadn't made a study of it. He had a sort of notion that it would be good to take it slow, but beyond that his mind was a blank.

Well, all he could do was give it a try. Standing behind her, he bent his knees, took his cock in his hand, and presented the head of it at her tightly closed nether portal. He pressed himself lightly against it, but it didn't admit him. This was a different thing from a pussy; it had its own set of rules. He pressed a bit more, and it gave way a little but didn't open up. He pressed again, and she said "Oh, yeah - harder."

Amy guessed right away that this boy didn't know a thing about anal sex. She'd anticipated that and had done everything she could to make it easy for him, giving herself an enema, wearing a butt plug right up till it was time to go to the Starbucks, and bringing her own lubricant. Now she was giving him a chance to do the rest. She liked the feeling of his cock pressing against her anus, but she knew he wasn't in yet - could he do it? "Fuck, yeah, harder," she said by way of encouragement, and he pushed harder - but not hard enough.

How much more could she do? She wiggled her ass and pushed against him, but he pulled back when she did. Fuck. He was losing his nerve. She stood up, gave him a disgusted look, put her hand on his chest, and shoved him. "Lie down," she said.

He obeyed her, but his cock was wilting. How unreliable these boys' bodies were! She sat down astride his legs and sucked him till he was hard again; then she stood over his cock and slowly lowered herself onto it till it was pressing hard against her anus. She closed her eyes, put more weight on him, and finally felt herself dilating to admit him. There was that same flash of pain she'd learned to love using her bigger dildos, fading then and giving way to the pleasure of stretching muscles and the friction of skin against sensitive membranes . . .

"Yes!" she cried in triumph, sat down hard on Mike's big cock, and rode it. Oh, this was everything she'd hoped and more: the stimulation of her sphincter, the pressure, the dazed look on Mike's stupid face - she reached between her legs and gave her clit a fierce rub as she bounced once extra hard and screamed "Yah!" in pain and pleasure. Then she rode again, fingers sunk deep in her pussy, palm rubbing her clit, faster and faster till she came with a screech even louder than the one that had so deafened what's-his-name the night before.

But Mike hardly noticed the noise. In a matter of minutes, he'd gone from fear to dazed disbelief to the realization that he'd never felt anything remotely like this tight asshole around his cock, and every time she lifted herself up, the sensation as her tight hole squeezed the head of him was . . . was . . . just incredible, and it was blazing through his whole body, and oh fuck he wanted to make it last longer but it was too intense, and he . . . just . . . had . . . to . . . come - which he did with a loud moan and racking spasms.

Amy raised herself off him, paused, and inserted a finger in her ass - a trick she'd seen in porn movies to let the cum run out. She let it puddle on his belly, then stood, pulled on her panties, and picked up her jeans.

"Hey," said Mike, "you're not like going already, are you? We're gonna . . ."

"Stuff to do," said Amy, and sat on the bed to put on her shoes.

Mike watched her finish dressing with desolate eyes. She said nothing more, but left the room.

Outside Mike's door, she checked her watch. Five-thirty. There was a bathroom across the hall: she went in, wiped her ass, peed, and washed up. She wondered what to do for dinner.

To leave the fraternity house she had to pass the wide door of the common room. As she was doing so, someone shouted, "Hey, Amy!" She looked: it was that guy she'd fucked the night before, standing in a tight group with Mike and some other guy.

"Hey, c'm'ere, Amy. Want you to meet somebody!"

3. Kegger

Amy thought she had gotten pretty much everything what's-his-name and the other guy, Mike, had to offer her, and she wanted to go home and record her orgasm - but she decided there was no harm in pausing for a minute just to be polite.

The third guy was beefy and sandy-haired; he was clutching a plastic cup full of beer.

"This is Amy, my date last night," said what's-his-name. "Amy, this is Will, our chapter president."

Will grinned and said, "I'm very glad to meet you, Amy. What a coincidence that you should be passing by at the precise moment my brothers here were extolling your excellent qualities!"

Amy said, "Hi, Will."

Will gestured towards a couple of kegs over against a wall. "As you can see," he said, "we're preparing to host one of those notorious fraternity parties your mother warned you against. We'd be totally honored if you'd join us."

"I don't think I'm allowed here," said Amy. "I won't be twenty-one for another four days."

"Well," Will frowned, "that does present a problem. There will be a guard checking IDs at the door, and close doesn't win a prize in the ID-checking game." He brightened suddenly and said, "But you see, you're already inside, so no one will check your ID. All you have to do is stay."

Trying to be firm, Amy said, "I haven't had dinner yet. I've got to go home and eat."

Will threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Home and eat! That's very good!" He leaned towards her and said, very seriously, "Amy, on this night of nights, Alpha Eta Pi has cleaned out all the pizza establishments in town. Every available pizza is stacked up in our kitchen. Please allow the chapter to treat you to dinner. What do you favor? Pepperoni? Sausage? Vegetarian? We have it all."

Amy was cornered - but how bad was that? Will was good looking, if a little heavy, and very friendly. Maybe the other partygoers would be just as nice.

"I guess . . . some veggie," she said.

Will clapped his hands and shouted, "Excellent! I shall personally escort you to our pizza hoard and serve you myself." He took her by the arm and piloted her towards the back of the house.

On the way he said, in a confidential tone, "What do you think of the two brothers you've met so far, Amy?"

"They're okay."

"Worthy men, both of them," Will exclaimed. "And if you think they're 'okay,' I'm sure you'll be more than pleased when you meet the others; because Alpha" (he paused to give the wall a proprietary slap) "is an organization of men who appreciate true womanhood and know how to treat women appropriately."

"That's good to hear," said Amy.

They entered a large kitchen, where many pizza boxes were piled up. No one else was here. Will browsed the boxes as he might a shelf of library books, and finally selected one.

"Here we go, veggie," he said, took a plastic plate from a stack and served her a slice.

"Thanks," she said, and took a bite from the end.

Will studied her as she ate, wondering if makeup or other stylistic interventions could rescue this appalling creature from her drabness. But her mouth was as pretty as John had claimed, and girls who took it up the ass and swallowed your cum were rare and precious. Yes, there was something about this girl . . .

"I just know you're going to be a hit tonight," said Will. "I can tell you have a modest nature, but you are quite attractive. I'm really enjoying your company."

"Yes, Will," said Amy.

"What?"

"Whatever you're leading up to, the answer is yes."

Will stared as she chewed another mouthful, not quite believing he understood her right. But he finally decided her meaning had been plain enough, so when she swallowed, he took her plate from her, set it on the counter beside them, and reached for his zipper, saying, "I do like a girl who says yes."

Amy's heart sang. Here was a third cock in just twenty-four hours! She sank to her knees in front of Will and watched, fascinated, as he pulled himself out of his pants.

This was going to be a good one. Not only was he growing fast, but he was uncircumcised. How often she'd imagined herself pulling back Rocco Siffredi's foreskin, unwrapping him like a birthday present - and now she had one of her very own to play with!

Very gently, because she didn't know how sensitive he'd be, she pulled back the foreskin. The glans underneath was moist, pink, and appetizing - she leaned forward and kissed it. It was warm and soft, and even a little kiss elicited a sigh from Will, who now placed a hand behind her head and urged her forward.

She was willing: she let him glide between her lips, savoring the flavor of him, the penis smell, the sensation on her lips, and his boldness as he pulled her harder and pushed forward at the same time, so all at once he was over her tongue and past her uvula.

Now he took her head in both hands and thrust hard, battering the posterior wall of her oropharynx. She made an "ack" sound, gagging because after all a dildo doesn't seize your head and fuck your throat, so she wasn't exactly used to this; but it was great, the gagging, the danger of it, the way her mouth was suddenly full of thick saliva. She stuck her tongue out around him and drooled a gleaming strand onto the industrial tile of the kitchen floor.

"What the fuck," said an unfamiliar voice. She cast her eyes sideways and saw a boy she hadn't met, tall and black, staring with astonished eyes.

"Hey, George!" said Will.

"That's one ugly bitch," said George, advancing towards them. "She looks like a fucking groundhog."

"Yeah, but an unbelievable cocksucker," said Will.

George took another step, just enough to bring him within reach, and Amy caught him by the belt and hauled him closer. Taking the hint, he unzipped and pulled himself out, and she took him in her hand and jerked him off as Will, in a spasm of fraternal goodwill, gave one energetic thrust ("Annghh," Amy gargled) and yielded his place.