Boyfriend Material

Rory cleared the last stoplight and accelerated onto the open highway. It was after midnight now, and traffic was sparse. It would still be almost 2 AM by the time he got home, and he would need the windows down and the radio turned up to stay alert later, but for now he was wide awake with sheer adrenaline.

His date with the young woman from his Psychology class, Kelly, had been terrific. It was their second date; he had asked her out during finals week and their first date had been the night before he went home for the summer. She was staying on campus during summer term. He knew after the first date he wanted to see her again; and he figured that his willingness to drive four hours, round trip, for a second evening together would assure her of his interest, if not scare her away.

He hadn't scared her away.

They had gone out for pizza, walked through a city park where a jazz band was playing in a gazebo, and then returned to her place, and sat outside on the back stoop drinking Lambrusco out of plastic cups, and talking, and eventually kissing.

And eventually there was more kissing than talking.

She had turned out to be as easy-to-be-with as she was pretty. And she was very pretty; certainly, the prettiest girl he had ever worked up the nerve to ask out. But they had plenty of common interests, since they had met in a class for her major, his minor. She seemed a bit demure, with a slight tendency to wait for him to take the lead; but not prim or prudish. She laughed at his jokes and didn't flinch at profanity. It was like she knew what he was looking for in a girl.

Rory didn't want to rush things, but he could definitely see Kelly as a steady girlfriend. He was in no hurry to make a lifetime commitment, but he liked having a girl in his life. Among other things, he had never had sex outside the context of a monogamous relationship. He knew there were girls who would put out without any sort of "commitment;" hell, his roommate had brought home five or six of them. But Rory was just old-fashioned enough that he had still only had sex with girls that he was seeing exclusively, and he still liked it that way.

The previous girl he had dated, just a couple of times, had told him that she thought he was "the kind of guy who needed to be in a relationship." He felt a little judged by that statement. He wished he had been quick enough to cavalierly tell her no, he just wanted companionship and sex. But to him, and to all the "nice girls" he had ever dated, he assumed, "a relationship" was a prerequisite for the latter.

Well, at any rate, he thought, as he headed up the interstate on-ramp, this Kelly seemed really promising. He was willing to take things slow; it was his modus operandi, and he felt like it fit his "brand." He had already arranged to come back to see her again next weekend, and he could hardly wait.

****

Kelly climbed the stairs to her little attic apartment, kicked off her sneakers, turned out the lights in the kitchen and the shared bathroom, and entered her bedroom in the rear dormer, closing the door behind her.

She walked over to the dresser and looked into the mirror, removing her earrings.

"I thought he would never leave," said the voice behind her.

She turned to face the man reclining on her bed. He was up on one elbow, naked except for his boxers, all barrel chest and thick thighs, a bemused leering grin on his broad, flat face.

"You're the one who wanted to wait up here the whole time," she replied, her voice betraying hints of testiness and resignation.

He shrugged. "And you went along with it."

"It was a second date," she stated, unbuttoning her blouse. "I wasn't going to bring him up here anyway."

"Uh huh. You didn't wait until the third date to get down and dirty with me."

"Malcolm," she sighed, "We haven't had a first date."

"True enough," Malcolm acknowledged, looking rather pleased with the reminder that she had been opening her legs for him without even making him pop for dinner.

"So why were you so keen to spend the evening up here waiting for him to leave, like some kind of pervert?"

"Because, I like cock-blocking other guys," he admitted. "And, I wanted to be here when you came back, because I knew you'd be hot to trot."

She shook her head and surrendered a trace of a smile, as she draped her shirt over the back of a chair and released the front clasp on her lacy white bra. It fell open, revealing the tell-tale hard pink nipples atop her small white breasts.

"And you are, aren't you?" he continued. "Didn't it make you wet, sitting down there on your back steps drinking wine and making small talk with your beau, knowing I was up here waiting for you?"

"Off and on," she admitted, unfastening the button on her jeans and beginning to shimmy them over her well-rounded hips. "Sometimes I forgot all about you."

"Right," he said, smugly. "Whatever. You're wet now."

She was stepping out of her jeans, and the evidence that Malcolm was correct was visible in the crotch of her pink panties. She loosely folded her jeans and laid them down on the chair. Yeah, she admitted to herself, it was naughty and titillating, the idea that her big brother's cocky best friend wanted a booty call after her date with a new guy. If he had called her and asked if he could come over, or asked -- even told -- her to come to his place, she may well have said yes.

But he had rather insisted that he commandeer her bedroom for the duration of her date; and as was often the case, she found his persistence arousing.

She stepped to the side of the bed beside him, and he put a hand on her naked thigh, and moved it slowly toward her panties. "So did you have a good time?" he asked.

"He's nice," she said. "I like him."

"Good," Malcolm said, as his fingers reached their target and stroked over her pubic mound. "Now show me how much you like me."

Kelly sighed and shook her head, but rewarded him with a bit of a grin. She had to admit to herself, she found his audacity irresistible.

"But I don't really like you," she teased him.

"Fair enough," he shrugged.

Malcolm sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and she stepped between his open thighs. He leaned forward and took one of her hard, coral-pink nipples between his lips and sucked. It felt good. She put one hand on the back of his head, a gesture of acceptance and invitation that she made in spite of herself; felt his short-cropped hair against her palm.

"Did you let him do this?" Malcolm asked, barely removing his lips from her nipple.

"No," she replied. It was a second date, she thought, as she heard Malcolm chuckle before reclaiming her breast with his mouth. At one point Rory had cupped one breast with his hand, through her light cotton shirt and flimsy bra, while they had shared a lingering kiss, but that was as far as he had tried to advance. She got the sense that that was been Rory's own personal limit anyway. If they had been inside, perhaps she would have guided him to open her blouse and kiss as well as stroke her breast; but she wasn't going to allow that to happen outside, even in the dark. And Malcolm had arranged to have the inside covered.

"He's a gentleman," Kelly offered, playing along with the game she knew Malcolm was pursuing.

"Good for him," Malcolm said. "I'm not."

His hands moved up the outside of her thighs, over her hips, grasped her at her narrow waist. Then his hands moved back down, his thumbs catching the waistband of her panties, stretching them out as he lowered them over her hips, rendering her naked in front of him.

"No, you're not," Kelly agreed, as he placed a hand on the inside of one thigh and moved it quickly up between her legs and then, as if to confirm his status as a non-gentleman, brusquely pushed one finger into her. She was wet, and it slipped in easily, but she still bit her lip at the intrusion.

"So he definitely didn't get to third base," Malcolm mused, as he twisted his finger inside her.

"No," she confirmed. She was finding Malcolm's interest in her date a little weird, but it was also intriguing her. He didn't seem jealous. It was more like he was bemused. And inspired.

He withdrew his finger and toyed with the pubic hair on her mound. She didn't shave; her natural hair was copious, but soft and fine, the same white blonde as the cute bob on her head. "You going to see him again?"

"Yes. In fact, he's coming back down next Saturday."

"Cool," Malcolm said, reaching up with his other arm to place his hand in the middle of her back and draw her down toward him for a kiss. For some reason, Kelly found kissing Malcolm to be more inappropriate than letting him finger her, but she didn't resist. She parted her lips and let his firm, probing tongue invade her mouth.

He laid back down on the bed, drawing her down with him. She instinctively placed her knees on the edge of the bed, straddling him, using her arms to support herself above him; and then when she was stable, reached down with her right hand to grasp his erection through his boxer shorts. She was no connoisseur of cocks; but Malcolm definitely was the thickest one she had ever encountered.

He let go of her and wrangled his boxers down to mid-thigh. "So I'll see you again next Saturday night, then."

She closed her eyes, and rolled them behind her lids. Malcolm could be such a prick. But she didn't object. Although, silence implies consent, she thought to herself. She couldn't help acknowledging how hot his suggestion was.

She raised herself up on her knees above his lower torso. Malcolm placed his hands at either side of her waist, more to guide her than to pull her onto him. She reached down with her right hand and wrapped it around his thick cock, bare now, warm and rigid against her palm and fingers, and pointed it upright, moving her own body in gentle circles until she could feel his fleshy knob nestling between her inner lips. Then she started to sink down onto it, and only then did Malcolm begin applying pressure with his hands to make sure he was going All The Way In.

She was wet enough already, but she still winced at the initial penetration; the way his blunt appendage shouldered its way into her, like a bully pushing smaller kids out of the way to get to the front of the line for ice cream. Accommodating Malcolm's fat cock as it pushed into her for the first time in any encounter always made her moan loudly; she was sure her roommate heard her from the front of the house. She didn't care at this point.

She truly did not particularly like Malcolm. He was her older brother's former college roommate and best friend; other than that, she didn't have much in common with him, and she had usually found him kind of obnoxious, in an arrogant, entitled way. But at the same time she found those traits oddly compelling, and damn, the sex was good.

She really didn't feel guilty about her liaisons with him; it's not like she was cheating on anyone. He was, she knew; and she felt a little guilty about that; but that was his problem.

She was a twenty-one-year-old rising college senior, she rationalized. She wasn't currently dating anyone, not exclusively. She certainly wasn't "dating" Malcolm. So, she had a fuck buddy. Common enough. It wasn't something she had ever planned on doing, but it just happened; and now she was going to let herself enjoy herself. Malcolm was certainly enjoying himself.

She had been sitting still on top of him now for several seconds, letting herself adjust to his girth. That was one of the things that made the sex so good; he had strength to match the thickness of his body and his dick, but he didn't just start banging away at her. He was waiting patiently for her to be ready to start rocking herself back and forth on him. Which she now began to do.

"Damn, that's good," he muttered. She tried to articulate an agreement, but all that came out was a little squeak. She looked down at him, at his broad, vaguely Slavic features, the flat nose that had probably been broken more than once, the heavily lidded eyes that were looking up at her in satisfaction and... well, appreciation, it seemed.

No, she didn't particular like Malcolm, but she didn't hate him, she thought, especially not when she was full of his cock and he was beginning to drag the crown of his glans back and forth against her g-spot. He just wasn't boyfriend material. She doubted that her brother knew that his horndog buddy was fucking his little sister; or that he would approve. Her mother certainly wouldn't. Especially considering that Malcolm had a long-term girlfriend who was in grad school in the next state over. That should bother her more than it did, but she had managed to stifle her concerns on that score. She didn't want Malcolm for anything more than these occasional orgasmic trysts, and she started and ended every one of them telling herself that if they never got together again, it wouldn't really matter that much.

Tonight was different, though, because this time, she was ten minutes removed from kissing Rory good night. And Rory was boyfriend material. They had only had two dates, scheduled a third; and they were a long way from commitment or exclusivity. But it was weird, she thought, as Malcolm began to grip her waist harder now and manipulate her body, twisting her on the pole with which he was now stirring her insides -- it was weird how Malcolm seemed extra excited to be taking her right after a date with another guy. Weird, but arousing, too.

And he had already told her he wanted to do it again next week after her next date. And right now, she realized, she didn't not want that.

She realized that she was feeling an orgasm building inside her, much more quickly than usual for her. She wondered -- no, she knew -- that part of that must be the illicit excitement that came from riding this stud muffin just minutes after a date with another young man, a young man who she should be having pleasant fantasies about right now. Then she put that thought out of her mind and let her orgasm crash over her.

She felt Malcolm stop thrusting while her pussy pulsed around his cock; then, as she collapsed on his barrel chest and breathed hard into the crook of his neck, she could feel his hands spreading wide across her butt cheeks, using her ass for leverage as he began pumping into her now for his pleasure.

She was ready for him to cum now; give her the perfunctory cuddle, and leave. It would be quick, but it was late and she was spent from the unexpected intensity of her own orgasm. But she realized that his movements in and out of her were steady and languorous, not the frenzied jabs of a man in pursuit of climax. She felt his hands move up her back, around her shoulders, and push her up off of his chest, all while maintaining the same rhythmic motion down where their pelvises were joined.

She held herself on her elbows and looked down into his eyes, inches below her own, boring into her. His mouth was a twisted grin. "So... is this guy... boyfriend material?"

Kelly wanted to make a gasp of disapproval, but it came out as a moan. "Mal..." she finally chided.

"I think... it would be a good thing."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm glad... I have... your approval."

He kept moving in and out of her slowly, but with a bit more power behind each thrust.

"He can take you... to dinner... and plays and shit..." Malcolm was continuing. "And go to Easter... dinner with your mom.

"And you... can still... come to me... for this."

She was in no mood, or condition, to chastise him. She wasn't used to talking during sex at all, let alone arguing or reasoning. And in addition to that, his outrageous proposal sounded shamefully tantalizing and kinky, at least in the moment.

Jesus, she thought, not altogether coherently. She wasn't actively looking for a long-term relationship, but she had always told herself that when one came along, her dalliance with Malcolm would be over, just another part of her past, nothing that even bore mentioning, let alone needed justifying.

"Yeah?" he asked, and that was the first time that Kelly realized she had just said "Yes," out loud.

She found herself staring into his eyes, which were shining with a gleeful, almost predatory intensity. She knew what he was suggesting, although she wouldn't have had the words for it even if she wasn't... wasn't... oh, Jesus, she realized, she was cumming again, even as she nodded and managed a "Yeah... okay..."

The orgasm that wracked her body was so explosive that it barely registered with her that Malcolm, too, was cumming, his hands back on her ass again, holding her close to him so he could pulse and spurt as deep inside her as he could get.

She collapsed onto his broad, sweaty chest again, and felt herself rising and falling with their heavy breathing, like a boat on the surf, for at least a couple minutes while they regained their wits.

Malcolm's hands were roaming over her now, gently, as if he couldn't choose between stroking her shoulders, her ass, or the small of her back. His penis softened and slipped out of her; she felt his semen oozing out behind it. Thank God for the pill, she thought.

"What's his name again?" Malcolm whispered.

"Rory," she mumbled, and immediately felt guilty, unfaithful in advance.

"Rory," Malcolm chuckled. "Poor guy. Two dates, and he's already a cuck.

"He just doesn't know it yet."

Kelly rolled her eyes behind her closed eyelids, the side of her face plastered against the sticky chest beneath it. Malcolm was such an asshole. She wasn't familiar with the term "cuck," but she could figure it out from the context. Such a dick thing for him to say, about Rory, and about her.

He was an asshole, for sure. But, she had to admit to herself, he very likely was right.