Carol Ch. 14


I dozed off to sleep and didn't wake until two hours later, when she came back into bed. She slept like a log for 12 hours, and then went out with my roommates again while I did homework in my room.

By the time Sunday rolled around, we were all in a daze. The porn movies on the TV were rolling non-stop, and all of us, getting off in Carol's mouth, or her 'puddy' as she called it, or her ass, were hard-pressed to say where the porn ended and Carol began.

Sunday afternoon, we were all waiting on the coffee maker. Carol had just finished a call home, saying she would stay in the city another night with her girl friend. She'd been naked for thirty-six hours, and none of us had really spoken to her except to tell her what to do. She was sitting on a kitchen chair, idly stroking Saul's cock as it stuck out of his boxers.

I watched her with a satisfied smile. She saw it, and her lips curved in answer. With a word, I could tell her to go down on him. Or I could just tap her knee -- the guys loved that trick. When I first tapped her knee in the living room, she had slid off the couch and in front of me, saliva running out of her mouth. She was a little embarrassed, especially since everybody noticed. But embarrassment turned to pride, as they all told her how impressed they were. Like Pavlov's dog, they said. It made her giggle.

Saul was thinking the same thing I was. He said, "C'mon, suck me. Okay?"

"Okay," she said.

We watched as she got to her knees in front of him. Her fingers wrapped around his cock, and I was even a little jealous that Saul could get hard at all. Her knees were on our grimy floor, which hadn't been washed since we moved in.

We were, for the most part, too worn out to play with her. She was stretched on the floor in front of the couch, lying on her back with her head turned to watch the porn on the TV. It was some 'true-life' movie, where the camera followed a girl around the city, even into a porn shop on Times Square. The things the girl did with stranger -- I could hardly believe them, but there it was: fact, documented by video. During the Glory Hole scenes, Carol had a little smile on her face.

My roommates were talking about what we could do with her, given that we didn't have a complete erection between us. They called out some of the better ideas to Carol, who would answer, 'Okay,' or 'Sure.' I think they liked that best -- the quick, unconsidering way she agreed to everything.

Then they hit on it. They'd get a pizza delivered by a guy they knew at a nearby pizza shop. We'd hung out with him before.

"What do you say, Carol?" Saul asked.

Carol's head jerked over. "About what?"

"Wanna blow the pizza guy?" He leered at her.

"Sure," she said. "I haven't done that cliche."

"Here's the phone. You call, you ask for Timmy to deliver it. He's gonna freak."

She sat up and took the phone. "What's the number?" There was a slight challenge in her voice.

My roommates were all excited by this. They were reaching out with their feet, running their toes over her legs and stomach. Saul tweaked her nipple with his foot. "Here, kiss my foot and I'll tell you."

Without pausing to think, she took his big toe in her mouth, and sucked on it. He watched, mesmerized, until she raised her eyebrows and wiggled the phone.

He told her the number, and she dialed. When the pizza shop answered, she uncapped Saul's toe and said, "I need Timmy to deliver a pizza to..." she gave our address.

I gestured her over, and she laid across our laps while we watched the porn flick. With four guys together on the couch, she was stretched across our laps. I was the lucky one, because her head was in my lap.

As I watched their hands on her, and thought about pizza deliveries in general, I felt my cock stir. All I had to do was pull it out, and lay it against her cheek. She turned her head and covered it with her mouth, sucking softly on its nearly flaccid length. Her tongue lathered the underside, generating shivers from what I thought was dead flesh.

My roommates were watching her nurse on me when the doorbell rang.

"Up!" cried Saul. "This is it!"

Carol sat up, hands running all over her. She knew without anybody saying it that she was expected to answer the door. She strode languidly over, turned the knob, and opened the door wide.

"Okay -- what!" said Timmy. He was a white-bearded older man, dressed like a biker, and at the moment he had a shocked expression on his face.

Carol stood aside wordlessly and let him in.

"Surprise!" cried Andy. "We got a new toy! Isn't she great?"

"Who's the girl?" Timmy asked.

"We call her anything we need, to get off," said Saul. He was enjoying Timmy's confusion. "She's Tyler's girlfriend, and she's built like the shit, isn't she?"

Timmy looked at me doubtfully. "Your girlfriend?"

"Yeah," I said. "This is Carol."

Carol looked from him, to me, then back to him. She nodded to him.

"Do you talk?" Timmy asked her.

"Not with your penis in my mouth," she said, raising one eyebrow.

"Well, fuck. This is the fuckenest fucked-up thing..." Timmy closed the door behind him. "I thought you were calling me over for beer and porn break."

"We ran out of cocks," Andy explained. "So we ordered out for more, isn't that right, Cock-sucker?"

Carol's eyelids fluttered. She said, "Yes, that's right."

Timmy dropped his pizza and popped open his belt. "Well, shit. Get on it then, girl."

Was it only four months ago, I was walking her to my apartment? Only four months ago, I was convincing her that she could wear short skirts all the time, and barely notice?

I watched with fascination as she dropped to her knees in front of this big, rank man, and shoveled his cock out of his underwear. She cupped it in her hands, and rubbed her cheek on it, her eyes slitted. When she opened her mouth to bring it in, a pool of saliva ran down her chin, and she hurried to fit his member between her lips.

"Oh, fuck," said Timmy, staring down at her. "Her mouth is so wet! Is this really happening?"

"Now you wanna deliver pizzas here, right? No more bitching about the tip?"

Timmy grunted as she bobbed down on his whole length. "Mmm! I'm thinking free pizzas, whenever she's here!"

"Yeah!" Saul slapped hands with Andy. Fred punched my shoulder.

Fred said, "Cock-tease is more than just fun. She's a fucking revenue stream! We're gonna get free pizzas from now on! What do you think of that, slut?"

She pulled off just long enough to say, "It doesn't have to be just pizza."

That lead to a whole new round of male bonding. We watched as Carol quickly brought him off. True to our rules -- they seemed so far away now -- she took one of his spurts on her cheek. She hadn't been doing that with the roommates, so I guess Timmy qualified in her mind as a 'regular' blow-job rather than a special 'apartment' blow-job.

When she rocked back on her knees, leaving Timmy's member limp outside his jeans, the cum had rolled down her chin to her neck. Her fingers went to the globule, broke it apart, and massaged it onto her throat. Then her fingers went into her mouth.

"She's in-fucking-credible," breathed Timmy. "I need to bring my buddies up here, someday."

"Yes," said Saul, looking very turned on. "With her, we can have parties now."

Timmy caught her chin, steered her gaze to his eyes. "Little girl, you think you could do that again?"

"Sure," she said.

"Could you do it to a few guys I know? They'll never believe me."

"Yes, I could," she said. Whenever she said 'yes' to something, I noticed, it was clear and very articulate. As if great importance was attached to saying yes to something she hadn't ever said no to. She later confessed to me that when she said yes, it was a part of the turn-on for her. She could feel her boundaries collapsing with each new yes.

After Timmy left, and the pizza was eaten, we were all pretty exhausted. Carol was slouched on the couch, on top of Andy, and looking so relaxed and wanton that I had to think of something new for her. The phone was in my lap -- I was thinking we would call out for someone, if need be.

Then I remembered: I had a phone number. "I-deeaaaa!"

* * * * *

Carol and the cab driver

I went quickly to my bedroom, and dug through my pockets. There it was.

I went out, and showed the guys the phone number written on the taxi receipt. "This is a guy from the other night. I promised him Carol would suck him off."

"You did?" Carol asked, stirring suddenly. "That last cab driver? Or one of the others?"

"The last guy. I wasn't serious then, but lucky for us, I got the number, right?" I passed it to her. My flux of energy spent, I sank to the ground. "Give him a call for me, will you?"

Carol gave me a long look, and reached for the phone.

"Hello?" she said. "Yes, uh. I'm that girl from the other night. Who took off her clothes and got out of the cab?"

This caused much interest for my roommates.

"I'll tell you about it later," I whispered.

"Yeah. My name is Carol. Um. Or Cock-tease," she grimaced as she said it. We were laughing silently all around her. "Yeah. My boyfriend said I should call you."

She paused. "For what?" She glanced at me, her eyes wide. Then she bit her lip and just said it. "You should drive over here. I'll meet your cab. I should... I want to give you a blow-job."

She waited while he talked, then said, "Yes. I'll go down on you. Like he said. What? It doesn't matter what you think, does it? Look, just keep your advice to yourself. If I want to give you a blow-job, then I will. So what if I'm a slut?"

She gave a frustrated puff, then put the phone against her shoulder. "This asshole is treating me like trash. Are you sure I should do him?"

I gave a tight, hungry little nod. "You're not trash," I said, a little rushed, a little flippant.

She went back on the phone, "What? Yes. I'm a big slut. A big slut. Okay? And I want to suck your cock, so you come in my mouth. Is that okay? All I know, is that my boyfriend says I should suck your cock. Oh. Now it's okay, is it? Yes, he told me to." She whispered to us, "Now it's okay, because of Tyler's say-so. What's that about?"

We listened as she gave him the address.

"Boy, he is an asshole," I said, when she hung up.

She said, "I have to go down and meet him. He thinks you're going to steal his cab or something. He's only a few blocks away."

"Okay," I said. "Get dressed. Have him park under the window, so we can all see."

"Shit," she said. She stood, looking around. "I have no clothes, remember?"

She dug through a pile on the floor, then pulled up a pair of Frank's boxer briefs. They were loose on her, and slid down her hips, which was okay -- she could hold them up. For a top, Saul produced a tight little muscle-shirt that really didn't do much to cover her.

By the time she was going through the door, still barefoot, she had recovered some of her good humor. She blew me a kiss, and closed the door behind her.

We rushed to the window and looked down. Before long, she appeared on the stoop. She looked down the street, but didn't see any cabs. We had a five minute wait, during which Saul, Andy and Frank spat out the window at her. They really were infantile. A big gob hit her shoulder, finally, and she looked up. Another string of spittle roped across her chest, hitting inside the muscle shirt.

She gave us the finger -- but didn't move. She just wiped the spit off, as another pool splashed on her knee. Other than that, she traded innocent looks with the few people who passed on the street. She was a vision -- the muscle shirt was thin and loose, the dark circles of her nipples easily visible through the fabric. The boxer briefs lay on the stoop off her ass, absurdly too large.

Finally, our cab zoomed up the street. It skidded to a stop in front of her, and went dead.

Carol stood, and dusted off her ass. She waited for a clump of teen-agers to pass -- they turned around and walked backwards to watch her -- and gingerly picked her bare-foot way across the sidewalk.

"Will she do it?" Saul asked, in an announcer's voice.

"Do you have any doubt?" I answered.

She opened the door, and slid into the front passenger seat.

"She's in! Man!" Andy was shaking his head. "She really never says no to anything."

"She's in there sucking him off," whispered Saul. "With her endless saliva. Her super-hero tongue. Blowing some guy who treated her like shit on the phone not five minutes ago. I can't believe her."

I smiled to myself. Not that my roommate's opinions counted for much, but it was nice to see her spell working on them. They had only ever seen her at her raunchiest. They didn't know she could crack jokes, or ace an exam. And, though she had been nothing but a series of holes for them for the entire weekend, even they were proud of her. They were protective, and even possessive. I don't know how she did it.

Only a few minutes later, the door opened again. She climbed out of the front seat, slamming the door shut behind her. This time barreling past the pedestrians, she sped up to the door and disappeared, without looking back. The cab pulled away slowly.

We heard her knock at the door. When Saul opened it, Carol was there, panting from a run up the stairs.

"Do it again!" said Saul. "We'll call another cab!"

She stepped into the apartment. She let go of her boxers, and they slid to the ground. Then she opened her mouth -- there was a huge pool of milky white cum, barely restrained from running over her chin by her bottom lip.

"Ooh," said Frank, marveling. "She kept his cum."

"You're the best," I said. Her eyes wrinkled at me, in a mouthless smile.

"She is. She's fuckin' wonderful," said Fred.

Carol swallowed the cum finally, and peeled out of the shirt. "You wanna shut that door?" she said to Saul.

We were so impressed with her, she laughed at us. We all wanted to snuggle her, hug her, keep her warm. With all the mooning, the strokes, the offers to get her something to drink -- she burst out laughing. "You guys are such freaks. All I did was go down on him!"

"They're your freaks," I said.

Carol patted my cheek. It was the most she could do, she was so immobilized by my three roommates. She said, "Let's watch that porno again. The one with the glory holes?"

"You know," said Frank casually, as I popped the cassette in. "We could take you to a glory hole someday."

"Really?" she asked, all innocent. "Do they really exist?"

"If they do, will you go?"

Without pausing to consider, she said, "Sure. Okay."

After that weekend, Carol was pretty much fair game in the apartment. Most of the time, I still fell asleep with her next to me. But if I dozed off and she was gone, at least I had her with me in a way. I could hear the guys working on her, the fluid sounds of intercourse, the muffled cries as they came.

I don't think I ever heard her come, except with me. But I couldn't be sure. Sometimes I listened to her progress through the apartment, from room to room, as she brought off my roommates. Then, if I was awake, I waited for her to appear in the doorway.

* * * * *

The illustrated woman

On Monday morning, we were lying next to each other, staring into each other's eyes. The Long Weekend was over, and I doubt we had ever been more tired.

I said, "I don't think we can do this every week-end."

"Why not?" she giggled. "But you know, we crossed a lot of boundaries since Friday. I wonder how school will be. I have class in two hours."

"I can barely imagine."

"Well, I've been thinking about it," Carol said, predictably. "For the last four months, everything has been 'teasy' and innocent. But I don't think it can be that way anymore, do you? Now that it's going to spread that I'm not a 'tease'. Now that the pictures of me at the fountain in the park are probably all over the university. People will be asking me for -- well, and I'll be saying 'yes.'"

"That's their problem," I said. "You be what you want to be. If you want to be innocent, be innocent."

"I don't want to be innocent," she said, stretching. "I want to blow the rest of the semester out of the water. I want to be pulled in by the campus cops. I want to get into trouble three times a week. I want to be arrested again."

She put a finger on my lips, stifling my alarmed response. "Just thoughts. We'll take it one day at a time, like we always do. Your assignment today -- is to dress me provocatively. All you have are your clothes, and maybe your roommates'. I don't mean showy, I mean provocative. For a while, I don't want to be a tease, I want to be the real thing. The type of girl you wouldn't bring home to meet your mom. Can we do that?"

"You bet we can," I croaked. "Take a shower and clean up. Put on some dark eye-makeup. I have some make-up you left in the dresser over there."

By raiding the apartment, we made her ensemble.

She was wearing a muscle shirt with paint stains and some strategic tears, the largest (accidental) one held together with a safety pin just beside the nipple of her left breast. The shirt was tied up to show her waist.

For her skirt, I'd taken my nice button-up shirt, and cut it at the waist. I wrapped the bottom half around her bottom half, where it looked clean and starchy and pretty, and moreover flapped out stiffly like a bell from her legs. After we got done adjusting the wrap, pinning it down, and covering the ragged waistline with an old neck-tie, it looked... well, pretty dumb. But not unfashionable.

Saul threw in his ex-girlfriend's hiking boots, it was all we could find. Andy put a few ropes of Mardi Gras beads around her neck, which looked surprisingly good -- they hung down between her breasts, under her muscle shirt, where you could see them through the fabric. Frank wanted to twist her hair -- but I rejected that. I wanted her blonde tresses as beautiful and high maintenance-looking as ever.

By this point she looked punky and inviting, but not provocative. Not enough for me. Sure, if I didn't know her I'd savor her as she walked past, but I wouldn't necessarily cry like a baby and follow her while whimpering.

And then I remembered how the city had graffitied her.

So we sat around Carol, and drew on her with her eye-liner pencils. A sun-burst around her navel. A snake around her nipple. Signatures all up and down her chest -- as if she'd been signed by a rock band in their touring bus. Little dirty phrases in small letters -- "ask me 3 times", "cock-sucker" (small print in her clavicle), "try me out", "I'll kiss you". We let loose with our imaginative worst, and by the end of it, by the time she was fully illustrated from her calf to her inner thigh to her belly to her chest to her neck, we were completely turned on.

She smoothed her muscle-shirt back down. Text in different hand-writing curved around her breasts, going covered by the white ribbed fabric (faintly readable) and coming back out on the other side of her breast. Words were half-legible under the cotton, an invitation to lean in close and stare, to try to read her, to start a conversation.

It was the kind of look that a girl might do once in her life. (Carol didn't ask me to dress her again, ha-ha.)

In the end, I don't know how well I did with the 'dressing her up provocatively' thing... I can say that Carol looked like my own perfect fantasy girl-on-the-street. She generously said she loved it, kissed me deeply, and went out into Manhattan, alone.

And, pretty much, out of my life.

When I look back, that was the last time I felt really close to her. After that, we had a lot of fun, but she was leading the way and dragging me along.

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