Dirty Girl

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diggypop
diggypop
34 Followers

Of course, if she could tank this, the contest would be over before it could start. She did want to win, didn't she? He decided to see if she could grasp the idea of strategic cooperation.

"Um...I'm just throwing this out there..."

She seemed impatient. "What? What are you stallin' for?"

"Well, usually when I masturbate, I'm either by myself, and using porn, or it's part of a sexual thing with a girl, and it helps if she acts, you know, provocative."

"Girls watch you play with yourself?" OK, obviously she wasn't that experienced.

"Some girls enjoy it. Especially when they're on their period, so they don't necessarily want me poking around, you know?"

She shrugged. "I never give a shit. Most guys get grossed out though, so I just say I'm on the rag, and let them decide what to do."

Holy shit, were they actually having a conversation? If they started viewing each other as people, with their own thoughts and feelings, this could get messy. But that was a risk he didn't mind taking.

"Well, look, I don't expect you to show off your A-game or anything, but if you got naked and at least let me get a look at you, I'd probably come quicker." He grinned. "It's not like you have any porn lying about the place, not to mention choosing porn over a real live woman would be more insulting than even I'm capable of." Not by a long shot, but no need to let her in on that little secret.

She looked confused. He had no idea how to explain it to her any plainer. How he really had no desire to jerk off while she just sat there and looked at him sullenly, or contemptuously, in her ratty, form-swallowing robe. As much as he wanted to win, he couldn't believe this was just a competition to her. Surely she at least viewed as he did, as sort of...fun?

"OK," she said. She took off the robe. She had a loose dark green t-shirt and a pair of white, full-bottom panties. He'd almost expected her to have the granny-style, or maybe even boy-shorts, but these were pretty chaste.

He smiled, hoping it would seem reassuring. "You don't have to try to be sexy about it. Just taking them off is fine."

She still didn't move for a second. "When this is over, and the loser pays the penalty, are you gonna still be mean to me?"

He hadn't really thought past the contest. He was surprised she had.

"I don't have any real plans one way or the other," he answered. Aware of how callous that seemed, he continued, "I don't have some agenda against you personally. I guess if you disrupt some activity of mine, I'll confront you, but I'm probably out of mean pranks."

She didn't seem upset, just thoughtful. He added, "If you win, I'll probably just let you have your fun, whatever that is. I admit when I'm beaten."

She removed her shirt. Her breasts were quite small, barely the size of small plums. She had a taut belly, and obviously did not tan. There was a feathering of hair across her belly, slightly darker than the hair on her head.. "You can be a little mean if you want," she said. "I don't mind a guy that talks shit. Just know when to...you know."

Amazingly, he did. She probably spent a lot of her time looking for attention. And she was very bad at noticing she was attracting the wrong kind.

She suddenly seemed to become aware that he was looking at her shirtless torso. "I don't have big tits, if that's what you like."

"Your breasts are lovely." He always wished there was a better term to describe small breasts. 'Beautiful' was a word he used when he wanted to woo someone he honestly thought was beautiful. 'Cute' seemed to diminish them even further. 'Adorable' was just the cousin of 'cute.' 'Delectable' was good, but it was almost too sexy, like he wanted them in his mouth right away. No, 'lovely' would have to do.

She started to pull off her panties, then stopped. "You don't have to buy me flowers or anything, but don't pretend you don't know me, just cause you're with your friends, OK?"

Good God, she was as scared of rejection as...well, as every other person Devon had ever known.

"OK," he said. "I can't vouch for what I'll do if you do something to piss me off, but otherwise I'll be...not nice, cause I'm never that, but...you know"

She nodded as if she did, indeed know, then pulled her panties off. She had the classic pubic triangle, with just a little fur growing around her vulva. She made no effort to either hide or display her pubic area, just sort of sat there, naked, as if she had no more to give.

He yanked off his pants and pulled off his boxers. He wasn't shriveled (Thank God for warm spring days) but he wasn't exactly erect, either. He almost left the shirt on, but decided they might as well be equally naked, and tore it off.

Luckily he'd lost ten pounds since the beginning of the year. He'd gotten a little self-conscious about his beer belly, after discovering his favorite T from high school didn't fit any more. He wasn't exactly sporting a six-pack, but at least there wasn't a noticeable bulge, either.

"I'm gonna sit at the head of the bed, OK?" He propped up the pillows so he could lean back on them, then clambered on. "I really hate to stand up when I jack off," he said by way of explanation.

"You could've sat in the chair," she replied. It didn't sound like she cared one way or the other. Devon assumed she just liked to get a word in from time to time.

Oddly enough, she was still facing the same way, which gave Devon a great view of her ass, but little else. It looked exactly like he would have expected from her overall build, which is to say just enough gluteal muscle so the bones didn't show, with slender but still visible hips. "Turn and face me, if you would," he said as politely as he knew how.

She did so, shifting into Indian-style sitting, which parted her vulva slightly. Her hands were just behind her ass, evidently supporting her. "Perfect," he said.

He got hard really quickly, after just a couple of squeezes. This seemed to startle her. He knew his size was only average, but of course he had no idea how many cocks she'd seen, and what size.

He tried to be fairly gentle, not wanting to risk chafing or bruising. The last thing he wanted to have to do was tap out due to soreness. He gave a few light, dry strokes, then grabbed at the base of his cock and pulled up and down a few times; the skin was still loose enough that he could stroke his cock without overdoing the friction. He couldn't come with that alone, but if he kept pumping, alternating the pumps with occasional squeezes of the head of his cock, the pre-cum should start flowing.

He always liked the slippery feel of it; even though it never provided enough lubrication on its own, he always gave a good two or three strokes with it, adding nothing else. Then, giving into necessity, he used his tongue to give his hand a generous amount of saliva.

For all the bad things he'd heard about using saliva -- it dried out the skin; it imparted whatever halitosis he'd accumulated onto the penis -- more often than not, whenever he'd felt the need for a quick jack-off session, it was simply far more convenient than anything else.

(Occasionally he would plan ahead and put something on his nightstand, but that only worked when he had a room to himself. And when he wasn't living with his parents. Sometimes he couldn't wait to leave school behind.)

She was watching him quite frankly, and that was a bit of a turn-on in itself. Was she intrigued, or was it simply the only thing going on? He shut down that speculation, certain it would derail his arousal. He decided to spend a little time watching her as intently as she did him.

She had fairly clear skin, which wasn't that big a deal to him, but certainly made her appealing to look at. He could imagine running his hands over that skin, nibbling and biting it, doing what it took to stoke her arousal. He was stroking a bit faster. He needed to be careful and make sure he didn't do any dry strokes. He couldn't risk any abrasion.

Was that a smile on her face? Oh, fuck he was going to wear her out...he wondered what she smelled like...it seemed unfair they were on the same bed and he still couldn't smell her pussy...he wanted to make that pussy so wet it would drip on the sheets...Oh, we're coming along nicely...

Look at her...just as cool as a cucumber...or maybe she's mesmerized...she better watch out cause when I get my dick in her, she'll scream out my name like the little slut she is...Oh, shit!

Oh, wow. That just spurted out. Now there was a healthy load of his semen soaking into her quilt. Should he apologize? "Um, could I have a towel or a tissue or something?"

She handed him what appeared to be an old t-shirt. As he dabbed, he joked, "You weren't gonna wear that again, were you?"

She shrugged. "It'll wash. Hell, I'm gonna get some of your jizz on me or in me soon enough, right?"

"We'll see about that." He was almost certain he'd succumb at least once. The twenty-four hour window had made that a near certainty. Although he had at least once gone for hours without being able to come, never sure what inhibited him, but frustrating the girl in question noticeably.

But something about Myrtle made him want to come. Part of him yearned to see his cum splattered on her cheeks, or dripping out of her asshole. Or hell, filling up her pussy. Good thing she was on the pill; it was one less thing to worry about.

After wiping up the puddle as best he could, and giving his cock a wiping as well, he put his feet on the floor and stood up. "Come here," he said, beckoning with his hand.

Still naked, she walked over and stood in front of him. "I'm going to kiss you now," he said, and did just that. He was glad she didn't open her mouth. He thoroughly enjoyed french kissing, but firmly believed it should be built up to. This was meant to be affectionate more than anything.

And then, just like that, they were in each others arms. Not kissing anymore, just embracing, each enjoying the feel of the other's body.

Then, just to keep it from being too nice, too intimate, he grabbed her ass and squeezed. Then whispered in her ear, "It is now four-thirty Wednesday afternoon. In twenty-four hours, I am going to fuck you so magnificently that when you physically can't take any more, you will be sobbing because you'll wish you could keep going just ten more minutes, and your crying, trembling self will collapse in my arms and sleep like a baby."

All she said in response was, "I'm gonna drain your balls dry and make you my slave." And for a second, Devon almost bought her version. But just for a second.

*****

Devon woke up with a start. The sun suddenly glaring in his eyes wasn't quite as big a surprise as the butt nestled on his crotch. Myrtle had vetoed both him sleeping on the floor and either of them wearing clothes to bed. "What the fuck do you want to do that for?" she asked, He had no answer, but he hadn't planned on cuddling with her, either.

He still wouldn't call her beautiful, maybe pretty. He had a friend who classified many women as, 'Ugly-Sexy,' meaning they weren't conventionally pretty but he wanted to bang them. Devon viewed this as juvenile and borderline mysogynistic, but had to admit it was hard not to categorize.

She looked so untroubled, however, that the word 'adorable' came to mind, unbidden. He had gone into this without even considering he might develop tender feelings towards her, now he had a sudden urge to hold her closer and listen to the sound of her breath.

She'd started acting more seductive, as if she understood that her own sexuality wasn't just about fucking, but that she could use it to, as the book said, win friends and influence people. Devon wondered if she had enough grasp of the finer emotions to be an effective manipulator. Maybe I've created a monster.

He was suddenly intensely aware that, barring forfeiture, his penis would be penetrating the very ass that now lay so near it. Immediately, his erection surged to life. Myrtle woke up with a snarl of surprise. "Save that shit for this afternoon," she mumbled, and then let out a loud fart before falling back asleep.

It was so pungent he was forced to get up and open the window for two minutes before the room's air was breathable again. It was almost providential. Anything that could cool his ardor at that point could only help.

*****

He got about an hour more of sleep before her stirrings woke him up for good. He reflected on the previous evening and thought it had been odd but good. Since she was determined to watch him like a hawk, they'd basically had to do everything together.

Eating dinner together in the cafeteria hadn't been a big deal. By now, he had installed an iron-clad rule in his friend's minds: do not interrupt Devon if he's eating with any female he hasn't explicitly introduced you to.

Devon wasn't a braggart, so the constant stream of girls his friends observed him with was viewed with something like awe. The unspoken dream was that he would share his secrets one day, or even pass a few castoffs someone else's way. So far, he hadn't.

Bathroom breaks were a bit trickier. It was actually easier to find one near the classrooms than to try sneaking into either of the dorm facilities. However, showering necessitated a late night trip; luckily everyone had turned in (apparently).

Until then, they passed the time playing games. After creaming her at scrabble for three games straight, Devon agreed to switch to gin rummy, and made the mistake of agreeing to a penny a point. It was only five dollars, but it was humbling nonetheless.

The shower was an interesting exercise. There were no individual stalls, so they basically just went into the group showers, and watched each other to ensure there was no release attempted. Devon was almost too vigilant in making sure his hands didn't linger in problematic areas. Myrtle was more leisurely in how she applied soap to her body, and Devon found himself getting aroused despite the rather mundane nature of her actions.

I wonder if she'll let me wash her off, after... Impatiently he chased away such thoughts. No point in giving her a leg up.

Apparently his attention had not gone undetected. After turning the spray off, thoroughly rinsed, she said teasingly, "You can towel me off if you want."

At that, his cock surged visibly to life, and he said, by way of apology, "I think this will get in the way."

This apparently made her increasingly bold, and she pulled her pussy open, and said, "I want you to look at this, and imagine it grinding on your cock as you beg for it. I'm going to own you."

And just like that, it felt like a contest.

After the shower, it became obvious they were both too keyed up to sleep, Devon brought out some grass. It turned out she'd never tried it before, and got the giggles immediately. He kept her giggling by reading her Chris Miller stories from a National Lampoon anthology he had on his laptop, and eventually they just turned out the lights and put on some music, then drifted off to sleep.

He had no idea how they were going to fill the early part of the day. He was a little worried that tension between them would simply grow, until it reached a pinnacle of awkwardness that no amount of smooth talk (or even weed) would be able to overcome.

Both of them had agreed no drugs -- no weed, no alcohol, no Xanax -- would be allowed to interfere with the contest. There was no telling what the resulting effects would be on their libidos. Of course, this was where Devon planned to cheat a little bit.

There were at least three doctors in the city who were far freer with prescriptions and samples than proper medical ethics should have allowed them to be. He not only had procured a stash of Viagra (not that he'd ever needed it before, it just seemed a useful thing to have), one overenthusiastic physician had given him a highly experimental reformulation of the drug specifically designed to increase not merely bloodflow, but psychological arousal as well.

He'd assured Devon that early results indicated it worked especially well for females. Devon would have to find a way, of course, to administer it to Myrtle. Perhaps he would suggest a light snack before they began, or maybe he should make sure they both had bottled water handy. (Luckily they were each allowed one bathroom break an hour, just in case. Maybe a little excessive, but vigorous fucking could jostle the bladder in unexpected ways.)

But there were still hours to go. What to do until then? Myrtle suddenly came completely awake and said brightly, "Let's go to breakfast!"

Even though the breakfast at the cafeteria was free to dorm residents and less than two minutes away, Myrtle was insistent that they should go to a place fifteen miles off campus called Good Home Eats. She wanted poached eggs, table service and food cooked to order. She'd even chip in for his half, she promised. Hard to refuse, but the odds of him deciding he actually liked this girl were steadily increasing. This contest was proving to be more risky than he could have predicted.

Luckily she had a car, too. She was completely contemptuous of his suggestion they take a bus.

On a practical level, Devon had to admit having a car would be a nice convenience. But with three bars that regularly featured live music only a five minute walk from campus, Devon so far had been able to get along just fine without one. Just owning a car free and clear was an expense, and one he was willing to wait for, at least until he graduated.

Not to mention if he didn't want to be a hypocrite about his environmental activities, he should opt for a Prius at least, which necessitated either a good income, or sharing expenses with some willing person. Best not to even worry about such matters until absolutely required.

He hated to admit it, but her choice of diner resulted in possibly the best breakfast he had ever eaten. The eggs were cooked perfectly, the corned beef hash exploded with flavor, and the sausage patties were the moistest, freshest patties he had ever had, apparently made from scratch in the establishment. As was the bread, which was a sourdough that practically yearned to be covered in the cool sweet butter patties that came on the side of the plate.

"Good God," he said almost accusingly, "I'm not going to be able to fit any dinner in later."

She nodded. Apparently she didn't think this was a big deal. "We can pick up some snacks at Kroger. I usually don't get hungry until I'm done fucking."

He nodded. Apparently bottled water would have to be the medium of choice. At least he'd already ground it into powder. But how to introduce it into the water she'd drink...

*****

The opportunity didn't so much present itself as it was deliberately presented by Devon. After they'd returned to Myrtle's room with snacks in tow (following a quick detour to a secluded bathroom; the coffee had done its job really well), Devon mentioned they really should have some bottled water on hand. He just happened to have a bunch in his dorm room. So they trundled over there.

As Devon walked over to the full case of Dasani, he said, as off-handedly as he could manage, "Hey, could you look under my bed to see if my blue hoodie got stuck under there? I heard it's supposed to get cold tonight."

Fortunately, she honored his request by fully wedging herself under the bed, giving him plenty of time to dose two of the bottles. He'd decided to just take the same formulation he was giving her. He figured its improved effectiveness on women and his knowledge of the drug's presence should allow him to manage the effects in a more controlled manner.

He wondered if he was deliberately hobbling himself and decided no, he wasn't, but he had to make sure he stayed hard and he couldn't risk more than one effective dose of the drug. At least this way, she'd be assured of getting a water with the chemical in it, regardless of who got which bottle.

diggypop
diggypop
34 Followers