Carol Ch. 09


Same day. I was in the library making plans for our 2-month anniversary night. Though I'd been considering it for a long time, I was still under-prepared. I had some calls to make, some research to do.

The mood around me changed suddenly. A general perking up preceded Carol's entry into the lounge -- the room always changed, now, when she walked in. She flounced through the glass double-doors, her heavy shoes clapping on the floor, her bag bouncing on her hip. Her breasts swayed in counter-time to each step, and I hadn't realized just how showy that square decolletage was.

Her collar bones cast shadows, the nape of her neck was bare, both of her breasts were bare to half-way down. The curves were bare on both sides of each breast, and it was mesmerizing to watch the weight of them shift smoothly under the skin.

Her legs, for me, were the best. The bottom of her little frock was a little like a loin-cloth, split up the sides as it was. She paused and surveyed the room, and her strong, tan upper thighs thrust out sideways through the slit.

My eyes drifted lower, to her knees. Still a little grimy, from when, earlier that day, she had dropped to her knees in front of a strange older man, and took his cock in her mouth. This observation inevitably made my eyes drift to her face: beautiful, glowing with an inner light. She had, as she almost always did, a wide, friendly smile. She'd wrinkle prematurely from all the smiling -- but smile wrinkles are the best. Her lipstick had been fixed.

A few of her friends were there at the main table in the lounge. She passed by them, leaning over and chatting in low whispers. She came up behind or beside her guy friends, bending at the waist to bring her mouth down to them. Every time, the whole table would grow still and everybody would stare fixedly down her front.

I heard the sharp little smacking noise of her kisses, loud in the quiet room. People looked up at the noise, and saw her. If I had been her, I would have gotten bored, kissing every guy every time I met them... but never once did I ever see her get bored, or skimp on giving attention to anybody.

Also, whenever she bent over, the bottom of her frock climbed up her butt. Often as not, the fluorescent lighting illuminated the two creases between her ass and the tops of her thighs. I didn't see anything myself, but I knew the people in the low chairs behind her got a considerable hint when she leaned over in front of them.

And any other girl would have bent at the knees, or hooked a hand around to hold the hem of her skirt down (while the other hand came up to cover her chest). But Carol, after nearly two months of running around in short skirts and small tops, could care less about what was going on. Today she would be wearing that frock for about 18 hours. Why should she care about the scattered total of five minutes when someone might be getting a peek? Being a show-off is 1% going 'oops', and 99% just not giving a crap.

She finally got to me, and squeezed into the love-seat. Compared to her promiscuous touching, kissing and chatting with her friends, she was positively nun-like with me. Day to day, every so often, to reaffirm that she was indeed my girlfriend, I would grab her and snuggle her like all the rest of the guys. She had this way of melting in my hands... just going bone-loose like the rest of the world had stopped existing.

She said, "I told Alphonso that if he could find a nice quiet place in the building, I'd give him a blow-job."

"No!" I said. "Really? You just came out and said it?"

"Well, yeah," she smirked. "I made out with him after class, like we discussed? And he was asking for more. Like, whining. He's the worst of them. All these guys, they just take take take, and I give give give. And he wanted more."

"How many times did he ask? Did he ask for one, point blank?"

"Yes, it kind of stunned me. Though I guess it shouldn't, now." She shrugged with a wondering expression on her face, as if to say, what is the world coming to?

"And everybody is getting needy, huh?" I asked. "Well, we expected it."

"It seems like the natural next step," she said again. That was her phrase from the morning. As if, by saying the phrase, she didn't have to make a decision about it.

"It is the natural next step," I told her. "In fact, I feel a rule coming on."

"Oooh!" she giggled, in pretend fright. "Another rule! I thought we were running out of rules."

"Sweetie," I said, "I have a ton of them. And this is one I'm going to love."

"Well, tell it to me. I feel all weird, after this morning. Like I should be doing something I regret. Right now. If I'm going to regret today, and probably tomorrow night, then why not the whole week? And why not next week?"

Her voice had been steadily climbing. She had a glassy look in her eyes, kind of distracted, like the addicts that panhandle for quarters on the street. Her gaze floated around the room.

I shushed her, and wrapped an arm around her to quiet her down. "Okay," I said. "Here it is. Guys are really turned on by you. Guys are asking you for things. You can still say no."

"I can?" She seemed a little surprised. "I can still tell guys no?"

"Yes, you can say no. That's not the rule. But if they ask three times, bang-bang-bang, you have to say yes."

"I can make them do that," she said. Then she gave a start, and glanced at me. She had a crazy grin. "I mean, that could happen. But... Any strange fucker on the street could just yell at me three times. The newspaper stand guy in Queens..."

"If it's somebody who isn't a friend, then it's your judgement call. But if you're friends with the guy -- kissing friends -- then you have to say yes. But only if they ask three times in the same conversation. Of course, if you want to say yes before that, you can. Like if you still haven't done one of the other rules, and you need to make out with someone. But 'no' is okay, up to their third try."

She took a deep breath, thinking about it. "That's for the best. Saying 'no' will turn away a lot of guys. I don't want to spend all my time sucking people off. Not all my time." She nodded, growing into the idea. "Yes, Tyler. That's a good rule. I like being able to say 'no.' It's like I'm not easy."

Damn, she was such a darling. Here she was, with a new rule that made her an easy target for every guy who basically knew her name. If you went up to her and said hello, she would probably kiss you. If she kissed you, you could ask her three times to suck you off, and she would. She was agreeing to open up an avenue, to have her friends use her for quick gratification, and she was glad because it didn't make her easy!

She was nodding in satisfaction. And -- sometimes she was so transparent -- she was even licking her lips. She'd admitted it before: she got a visceral level of happiness, just hearing about the rules. She loved all aspects of the rules. Just thinking about fulfilling them. And reporting how she'd fulfilled them. According to her, the actual deed was secondary. What she liked was the anticipation, and the come-down at the end, when she was telling me what she'd done.

She said talking about it afterwards was like watching a totally hot, raunchy porn film, and being inside the girl. Like she was looking at someone else doing it, but getting all the physical sensations. If she could, she would probably send out a robot look-alike to collect the experiences, and meanwhile she'd be sitting next to me reporting, move by move, what was happening to her. That easy, slutty Carol persona was like a third person, that she and I shared between us.

"And now," I said, "I want you to get more cum in your stomach."

That snapped her out of it. A mere few weeks ago, she would have been awkward, reserved, her eyes downcast. Now she was entirely comfortable. She met my gaze squarely, and said, "Are you sure? Right here? Right now?"

"Well, somewhere in the library. I don't know who."

Her eyes drifted across the lounge, to the row of windows facing onto the stacks of books.

"Over there," she said, nodding to the stacks. Behind them were the study carrels, little rooms with a few chairs and a desk, which students used to meet in small groups. "I'll drag someone into one of those rooms."

"Okay," I said.

"You can see me from here, so you don't even have to move. I'll prowl --" she giggled softly "-- and you can watch me make my moves. Then I'll walk him to the carrels, and we'll find an empty one."

"Then you'll blow him," I said.

"This is so fucked," she said, meeting my eyes. "If I hadn't already sucked that guy in Queens this morning, I'd be totally nervous. What am I saying? I am totally nervous."

"It'll be easy," I said. I felt a little dirty myself, goading this wonderful girl, this beautiful creature, into leaving me and finding someone else. Someone who wouldn't care about her plans, her ambitions, or even her name. Someone who just wanted to plant his penis in her mouth and stare down at her. Someone who didn't care that this was so very unlike Carol. They would be in this lewd, nasty situation, and they wouldn't know that she snores softly in her sleep. But it had to be done -- this was all too much of a turn-on, for both of us, to be skipped.

"Don't you want something really easy, like me stripping naked and running through the library? I'll do that for you, you know that, don't you?"

"Yes. I have the feeling you'd do anything for me."

She nodded quickly, her eyes drifting back to the row of shelves she would be visiting. Somewhere in there, she was clearly thinking, was the guy she would walk up to. "I'd do anything for us."

"It's easy," I repeated. "Just stand up. Take a step towards those stacks. Take another." She was breathing hard, imagining it. "After a few steps, you won't have to think about walking. You'll just walk over there. You'll hesitate when you see the first guy. You might skip him. You'll see a few others. You'll circle back. You'll walk up close. You'll tell them you have a sorority dare."

"A dare! That's good."

"And you have to show someone your chest. You're all apologetic. It's 50 points if they see your chest, 150 if you see their cock. 200 if you touch their cock -- but you couldn't ask that of them. And it's 300 points if you go down on them."

"They'll ask how I'm supposed to have proof."

I was ready for that. "You'll tell them the proof will be in the note they write. They will write a note about what you did, and they have to sign it."

"They'll offer just to write the note, as a favor to me."

"If they do, then you'll act all shocked. Your sisters trust you. You can't break that trust."

"And then I'll ask them how many points they want me to have," she sighed. She was flushed, now, and breathing hard. "I'll tell them I really need points, or I might get kicked out of the sorority. Will you watch my bag? I want to go do this right now."

"Yes, dear."

She stood unsteadily, her eyes fixed on the stacks. She walked away from me without even kissing me, or saying good-bye.

Her hips had a sway as she moved away from me. My view of her ass -- and the ass-cheeks blinking intermittently from under the high hem of her skirt -- were soon blocked by guys leaning back in their chairs to watch her go.

I hadn't banked on this. I wasn't her only audience member. I knew what her watchers were feeling. Sometimes, a girl is so hot, so rarely beautiful, that you have to stare at her for as long as possible. She's going to disappear, and never come back. They were trying to memorize her. (Which had been our plan from the start.)

They watched her go to the stacks, which weren't so very far away, and stroll past them. She paused every now and then, but always moved forward. At the end of the row, she turned around and came back. I, with a dozen other guys, craned my head to watch. Even from far away, the pneumatic shifting of her breasts under the light fabric was easily visible. We had a perfect view through the floor-to-ceiling window-wall of the lounge.

We watched her stroll back and forth. I shortly realized she had crossed in front of the same guy, three or four times. She had his attention, his head was oriented towards her. His face was rapt, he was enjoying seeing her move around.

She looked at him, and took a baby step towards him.

Then -- this was so hot -- she glanced back towards me. I don't know if she saw me, or was able to pick me out of the crowd. What she saw was a dozen male faces, eyes on her. She knew then (we rehashed it later) that everybody was watching her on the make. Another girl might have freaked out, or moved on.

Carol took a bold step towards her admirer, and said something.

He said something back.

She reported the conversation to me later. She reported the whole thing.

* * * * *

Okay so I was freaked that all the guys in the lounge were staring at me. I saw them, and I felt a little embarrassed and shy. I mean, I know some of those guys. And there they were, staring at me, watching me sneak up on Joe.

Joe was his name. He never got my name.

All I could do was hope you were watching, too. So I said, "Hello. Can you help me?"

"Sure! What do you need?"

So far, so good. Entirely natural language. Truth be told, I hadn't found a guy yet who wouldn't help me if I asked. I think they like my confidence, how you've made me so personable and friendly, Tyler. Most girls in New York -- I watch them. They're afraid all the time, and I don't know how they get things done.

Well, after I met you, I just decided to let go of that fear. If they're mean guys, so what? I don't need them. I have a million real friends. I can live without a guy being nice to me, or giving me the brush off. It's sort of Zen -- as soon as you let go, you never have to worry about loss.

So he was talking to my tits. I know you like to call them breasts, but to me now they're tits. There's nothing special or romantic about them. When guys talk to my tits, I get the freedom to watch their faces, to study them. I think I could be a good lawyer, you know, using tricks like that.

So I hugged my arms under my chest, nervous and fidgety. It pushed my breasts up, and his eyes almost popped out of his head. "I'm in a sorority? And, um, I have these dares?"

"Yeah?" he said.

"And, this is so embarrassing. I have this list of dares!"

"What kind of dares?" he asked, gently now. As if he was talking to a baby.

"My sisters and I, we're like..." I went humph, and stomped my foot, jiggling my tits. "It's fifty points if you look at my chest for me."

"If I..." He trailed off. I was dying, internally. I always thought I could be an actress, and here I was, selling it. But no cameras. Plus, I was thinking about all the sororities, how they'd have to live down another rumor.

"Yeah, see, it's like, fifty if you look at my breasts. A hundred points if you show my your, um, penis? One-fifty if you let me touch it." I was counting them off on my fingers, as if struggling to remember them. "Two hundred if you let me kiss it. And three hundred for anything more. Oh, man, this is so embarrassing."

And, just for you, Tyler, I was miming everything. I knew the guys in the lounge were seeing it too, but I wanted you to know what I was saying. In a minute, if I was lucky, I would be walking him away from your sight. But I wanted you to be a part of this. Weren't you going to buy a Polaroid camera?

So when I said breasts, I pointed at my breasts. When I said touch, I made a grabbing motion. When I said 'anything more,' I pointed an imaginary tube to my mouth and made the jack-off motion. I knew people were watching, but it didn't really matter to me.

"Are your sisters around?" he asked, scanning the stacks.

"Oh, no! It's like a race. A competition to get back to the house in time."

"Which sorority are you with?" he asked.

"I'm not going to tell you!" I giggled. "They'd put us on academic suspension."

"And you have to get points, for these dares?" he asked. Suddenly, he was the dim one. Or maybe he just couldn't believe his luck.

"Wait a minute," I said, suddenly backing off. "You've never heard of these dares? I thought you looked like a frat guy. Don't you know what's going on?"

"What's going on?" he asked weakly.

"It's Dare Day! I thought you knew!" I started to move past him. I am a mastermind! Not only did I threaten to yank the prize from him, I made him feel out of the loop for not knowing about 'Dare Day.' If the whole world knew about it, how wrong could it be?

"No, yes, no!" he cried softly. "No, I knew. I just didn't... I lost track of the days."

"Every Thursday," Carol explained patiently. "Though they're not always so, you know, sexy. So can you help me? I'm running out of time."

"You want to show me your breasts now?"

"Beep!" I said, yanking my top away from my chest. He didn't see anything, but he sure reacted quickly when he thought he could.

"I didn't see it!"

"I want points," I said firmly. "I'm not here to give the whole library a show."

"You're so hot," he said.

"That I know. So you're gonna help me?"

"Three hundred for..."

"For everything else," I said. "Good, you chose the high one. Follow me."

Then, for a second, I was back 'in' myself. I could feel his eyes on me as I brushed past, walking down the stacks. I was moving out of your view. I could feel him inhaling my perfume. I could hear him walking behind me.

I went to a study carrel, and put a finger to my lips. "Shhhh."

I listened at the door -- it was occupied. I went to the next one. He followed me like a puppy.

This one was empty.

"Three hundred points for a blow job," he confirmed.

"Yes. And I really appreciate it. You will have to write a note for me."

"You betcha."

We got into the room, and closed the door. It was pitch black, so I turned on the lights. Tyler, will you think bad of me if I tell you something? No? As I turned back towards him, this normal looking guy... As I turned back towards him, my mouth was watering.

I was replaying the newspaper guy in my mind. This new guy was perfect, in that he had a cock. But I was thinking the situation was strange and unusual. Shouldn't he be older? Shouldn't he be more mean to me? Can a polite guy get hard? How long would I have to help him get hard, before he could put it in my mouth?

"Fifty points," I said, and I slid the shoulders off my smock. He liked that, and stopped unbuckling his belt to reach out to them.

As he held them in his hand, weighing the left and then the right, and tweaked the nipples, I said, "Seventy five points more!"

"What if we kiss?"

"Kiss!?" I exclaimed. "Ewww. I'm not going to kiss some guy I hardly know. I don't cheat on my boyfriend."

"Yeah, right, sorry," he said.

"Just kidding," I unbent and kissed him. "Twenty points. But really -- don't tell my boyfriend about any of this."

With his mouth working on mine, and his hands on my tits, he was getting nowhere with his pants. I unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his fly, and manhandled his jeans off his hips. They fell easily to the floor with a little tinkle.

Unlike with the newspaper guy, I was doing all the work. He just kind of stood there and took it. The newspaper guy pushed me around, undid his own pants, guided my head, talked to me. This one was quiet, I felt like I was taking advantage of him.

I wanted to check if he was alright with all this, really. I didn't want to get in trouble for sexual exploitation or anything. But I had the feeling he wouldn't stop it, even if he wanted. Like he'd be too nice or something.

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