Every Thing She Does is Magic

After the last student had been helped, he looked around the room for her but did not find her. He pulled out his phone and debated between texting and calling her. He would use texting when using his voice was not possible or inappropriate, neither of which applied at that time. So, he called her. A moment later, right behind him from the doorway came the sound of the Troggs' "Wild Thing". 'Wild Thing, You make my heart sing, You make everything, groovy.' He turned around completely to see her smirking face.

"You, Tom, make MY heart sing. You make everything, groovy. This is why this ringtone is perfect for you," she said, softly, stepping toward him, slowly, almost seeming to stalk him. She had this feral, jungle-cat look in her eyes that almost made him nervous. She licked her lips and pressed them to his while wrapping her arms around his neck. Oh, he could lose himself in her embrace and her scent, berries and the perfume. 'Could it get any better than this?' he wondered.

"Come on, Jules. Let's get you back to your room before the monsters come out."

"What do you mean, 'before the monsters come out'?" she asked

"It's from a Bill Cosby routine, '9^th Street Bridge'. You should Google it. I laugh at it every time. It's classic Cosby."

"Well, then, let's step lively and get me back to my room before the monsters come out," she agreed, smiling broadly.

He escorted her to her dorm room door and they engaged once again in some light tonsil checking. She broke it off and turned her key in the lock, mentioning over her shoulder that Dawn was going home for the weekend and would not be available to come along to the movie on Friday night. A smile played over her lips as she watched his face while she closed her door and snapped the deadbolt into place.

He was not a fool. Occasionally clueless when dealing with women, but by no means a fool. He quickly deduced what she was saying without saying it, and a certain part of his anatomy went, "Sha-wing!" with his realization.

Friday, September 11

By 3:00 PM on Friday, both were antsy with anticipation. They had agreed that, during the week, their studies were the most important things in their lives. Now they had a reason to be looking forward to the weekends. It was indeed a fortuitous coincidence that both of them had unlimited texting as part of their service plans. She could see how much of an early bird Tom was, with his first texts of the day coming soon after 6:00 AM. He also seemed to delight in surprising her, catching her before her Thursday class with Dr. Casper. His message truly left her breathless, as they had been connected at the lips for nearly five minutes. She was the last one to walk in, to the hoots and laughter of several others who saw them.

But the one thing she could never quite get out of him was the word 'love'. Oh, his vocabulary was extensive and put to the test. She was certain she had not been relegated to the 'friend zone', not given the way he kissed her. On the other hand, she had not yet told him she loved him.

He called her to invite her to come have supper with him. She readily agreed. They ate early because he had to prepare the popcorn (only one bag tonight), retrieved the drinks from her refrigerator, and made it to the auditorium about ten minutes early. They were able to get the same seats as last week, and they watched with interest as about 20 people came to the event this week.

He held her hand throughout the movie, occasionally stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, and she would occasionally squirm in her seat. When the movie finished and the house lights came up, she quietly excused herself and hurried to the restroom. He followed, more sedately, and was waiting for her with eagerness. He reached for her hand and they swung their clasped hands all the way back to her dorm room. She pulled him inside when he tried to kiss her goodnight, and she made him sit on her bed while she took some clothes into her bathroom.

She emerged having changed into a short skirt and a t-shirt. Her bra-less breasts were evident, and she boldly strode forward to his seated position. Placing each knee outside of his legs, she grabbed his hands and placed them on her tits, outside of the t-shirt. Reflexively, he kneaded her soft B cups with their now-hard nipples, and she shimmied and scrubbed her panty-clad pussy against his seemingly omnipresent erection.

"It's my dangerous time now, Tom, so all we can do is rub on each other," she began.

"Jules, I'm... I've nev..."

"Sshhh. I know, Tom. It's okay. It's okay. I understand. I know. Technically, I'm still a virgin, too. Yours will be my first and only ever cock, when it's time." Still bucking her hips, she looked deeply into his eyes and saw it. Even if he didn't say it. Love. She backed off of him. She took the panties which she had carried out of the bathroom and gently inserted the damp part into his mouth. While he was still stunned at this, she reached down and undid his belt and jeans and pulled the trousers to his ankles. She grasped his hard cock through his undershorts and marveled at how her hand couldn't quite encircle it. It was solid with a little pliability, and it was warm, borderline hot. She could feel his pulse in it, or else he was flexing his Kegels. Nah, too regular. It must have been his pulse. She loosened her grip and stroked back and forth atop the underwear, making him groan a bit.

"So, have you been thinking of me while you've been jacking off, Tom? Hmmm? You've been front and center in my jilling time, I'll say that much. Oh my god, this is going to feel so good when you finally get to use it in me." That did it. Her words, her stroking, her smell from the panties stuck in his mouth. He came, hard.

"Oh, so good, Tom! Yes! Come for me! Think of me. Think of all that goodness shooting up inside of me, soon."

Her words kept pushing his buttons, and he continued to spew into his shorts. He had not jacked off in days, and he admitted as much.

"Oh, but Tom, why not? You have my permission, my blessing, to think of me. It can't be healthy for you to keep it bottled up. No siree. Now you have to take my orders. You MUST jack off to me, daily, Tom. You need to think about this," and she pulled off her skirt and her panties. She stood before him, naked from the waist down. He could see her somewhat trimmed pubic hair pointing down to her clit peeking out from her labia. She rubbed her middle finger up and down her slit, spreading her lubrication around her pubis. She pulled her panties from his mouth and coated the inner gusset with her juices and pushed them back into his mouth. "Now, sit and stay there for a bit," she commanded.

She got up and went into her bathroom and returned with a warm, wet washcloth to clean her boyfriend up. She pulled off his shoes, then his jeans, and finally his boxers. She had all the access she needed to wipe up the mess she had engendered. He was stunned into immobility at all of this. She used every part of the washcloth to clean up his crotch, and his erection was finally subsiding. Until she kissed the tip of his cock.

She kissed all around his baby-soft glans, helping to restore his erection. She licked up and down his seven inches and even swiped her tongue around his balls a couple of times. She kept a hand firmly planted on his chest so all he could do was lie back and be overwhelmed with all the new sensations. With his ejaculate cleaned up, this whole experience was all about her giving him pleasure.

To her genuine delight, she enjoyed giving oral sex to him. She liked how his cock fit into her mouth. It was cleaned of all residual cum as well as perspiration, so the flavor was pure him. It was more than simply the taste of him. It was the innate satisfaction she derived from pleasing him.

"Uh, Jules, I ... uh ... as much, uh ... as much as I adore ... oh, god! ... what you are doing ... oh! ... I've got to get back to my room tonight," he stammered. He was having a tough time reconciling what she was doing to make him feel so good with how he believed women should be treated. He wanted to hold her tightly and never let her stop doing that to him, but it would be wrong to force her, even to ask her.

"Okay, Tom. You'll have to go commando. Your underwear is a sticky, gooey mess. My, my, my, but you were backed up, weren't you?" She gave him a sneaky grin. "Are you sure there isn't some more to come out of there? Or should I say, cum out of there?" she continued a light, almost delicate stroking of his bared cock. With every fourth or fifth stroke, she would slide her hand up and tease the glans end. He started to shake a bit, and he bit his lower lip in concentration. She knew she had him. She continued with her verbal teasing in addition to her physical touches.

"Imagine it, Tom. Your cock, slick with my juices, fresh from my sopping pussy, sliding up between my bare-naked tits. Me, squeezing them together, your cock slipping up and down between them, and ..."

He came again although not quite as explosively as before, but his semen spurted up and over her stroking hand. She was surprised at the heat and thrilled that she could induce such a response from him so easily.

"Such a good, obedient man you are, Tom. I think you deserve a small reward, a treat of sorts, don't you?"

She raised her t-shirt over her breasts with her un-splooged hand, her nipples rock solid with her pleasure, and she guided his hands to caress the now-bare tits, to stroke those aching nipples.

"Oh, yes, yes! Oh, you are doing that so well, Tom! Oh god, I'm coming!!!" she exclaimed.

It took them both a few minutes to collect themselves. He wondered how far down the rabbit hole he could still tumble. He had been rendered speechless and he needed some time and space to come to grips with it all.

First, though, he needed a nearly naked Julie to get off his lap. Before she could climb off, he kissed her, softly, and tried to tell her what was on his mind simply by staring into her eyes. Failing that, once she clambered off him, he removed his unwearable boxer shorts and tucked his now-flaccid penis into his jeans.

She was as surprised as he was by her actions. She felt like she had almost ravished him. She had no idea what had come over her. She thought she could sense some shame in how he picked himself up, once she had cleared the space. She was going to try to nip that guilt in the bud.

"Tommy, what's wrong?" She took hold of his chin, trying to make him look her in the eyes again, but he cast his eyes downward. "Sweetie, what's wrong?"

"I ... I ... I can't talk about it right now, Jules," he managed to get out. He slipped his shoes back on and headed for the door before she could interpose herself. Yanking the door nearly off its hinges, he ran off into the darkened hall and out into the night.

Mortified, he swiftly escaped to the sanctuary of his room. He steadfastly ignored the Bobby Sherman ringtone he had selected. Over and over, it started up, played out, and fell silent. After four times, he silenced his phone, even from vibrating. Fortunately, his roommate was out trolling Frat Row for free beer and he could have the room to himself for a while. He hurried to his bathroom where he tossed the soiled underwear into the sink before falling to his knees before the toilet bowl.

His thoughts were all over the place. He adored her. He had mentally treated her like a sex toy, albeit at her words and direction. He had not stood firm for his principles. He could feel the bile burning its way up his throat as his supper threatened its return. He had been this close to fucking her like a rag doll. He had lost control to her whims. He had lost control. There was his supper, filling the toilet bowl as his stomach heaved in his disgust.

She was in a near panic. Her calls to his phone were rolling, eventually, to voicemail after ringing five or six times. So, his phone was on, and he had not blocked her number. He wasn't answering, either. There was no phone in his room, and she could not enter his dorm without a resident letting her in. On a Friday night, she would not be likely to find anyone to let her in. What had she done?

With the boxers rinsed and wrung out, he changed into clean sleep clothes and lay down on his bed. He was still reeling from that evening's post-cinematic events. It had been too much for his mind yet not enough for his body. He carefully reviewed what had occurred. The handholding and kissing had been perfectly fine. Even the rubbing and stroking over their clothing seemed to be a logical progression for the pair. When she removed her skirt and panties, he felt pushed over the line of acceptability. He recalled her words: it was the "dangerous time" of her cycle. She had teased and tormented him to the point of his wanting to plant his seed in her fertile fields, to make her his woman, to knock her up, to impregnate her.

It was only his control over his lizard brain desires that kept them both out of trouble. These thoughts were incompatible with his being the son his parents had birthed and raised. He could never force himself on anybody, least of all her. She was finding ways to make herself a permanent fixture in his heart. He was falling in love with her. She was becoming his priority and he was terrified of that.

He noticed his phone was flashing with an incoming call. Of course, it was her. He let his phone flash until it stopped. He didn't want to have any discussion with her yet. He banged out a text, asking her to meet him in the Student Union by the mailboxes at 12:30 on Saturday. He did not wait for a response before he turned his phone off completely. He did not notice the voicemail icon. With all that, he went to sleep.

She was going to give it one last try. She called him, but the call rolled to voicemail again. This time she left a message.

"Tom, please, we need to talk. I cannot explain what happened, but I need to try. This cannot be resolved by anything other than us talking. Please, Tom! You are crucial to my life. I cannot imagine my life without you in it. I ... I think ... no, I know, I love you. My life truly becomes worthless without you. I can't explain it. I don't know how this happened. Talk to me, please, Tom. Call me at any time, please. I love you, Thomas Richard Harrison, more than my own life." This last sentence was said just barely above a whisper. She ended the call when his text came in.

She responded with, "Yes! I'll be there at 12:30."

There was no further response from him that night.

Saturday, September 12

Tom had a restless night which was rudely interrupted by his roommate's return at 3:41 AM. When he was finally able to get to sleep, he dreamed about his mother. It was autumn. Leaves were falling occasionally. He looked at her and an adoring smile crossed her face. She directed his attention to the flowing water. He saw a palm-sized maple leaf being carried downstream. She reached out and stopped the leaf's journey, and the flowing water soon swamped over the leaf. She pulled the leaf out, shook it dry, and casually returned the leaf to the stream. The current caught the leaf and carried it away. The leaf spun around and bobbed with the turbulence in the stream but remained dry otherwise. She pointed first at the leaf, then at him, and smiled again. He awoke with the sun shining through his window onto his face. His eyes had tears in them, likely from the sunlight, but possibly not.

He picked up his phone and noted her reply text. He listened to her message. The sound of her voice stirred his heart, and he felt a bit of guilt about how sad she had sounded. He had caused that sadness. He wanted to talk with her, but 6:20 AM was NOT the time to be calling her, especially on a Saturday morning. So, he gathered up his laundry. While waiting for the machines to complete their designed tasks, he contemplated his dream. He seldom remembered his dreams. He rarely dreamed about his mother anymore, either.

Julie awoke and remembered that Dawn had gone home for the weekend. Damn! She could do with a Fourbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte this morning. She pulled on a sports bra, t-shirt, and gym shorts and padded barefoot down to the cafeteria to get whatever Mug of Mindfulness she could scrounge up. Hey! They had some French Vanilla creamers still in the bowl! She put three of them in her large cup, along with the near sludge that oozed from the spigot, to render it consumable. Returning to her room, she checked her phone, but there had been no further communication from him. Fair enough. She needed to consolidate her thoughts, so she sat at her desk and put a pencil to notepad.

They met up at 12:30 by the student mailboxes. He was right on time, but she had been there waiting for ten minutes. She did not want to chance his coming and departing without her. They approached each other carefully, warily, fearful of chasing the other off with an ill-considered word or action. When he finally stepped within range, she lunged and grabbed onto him and buried her face in his shoulder. His face was stricken with an expression of total anguish at having brought her to tears. He allowed her to cry on him for a couple of minutes and took her hands in his. She lifted her face and the tracks of her tears on her cheeks almost drove him to his knees.

"Come on, Jules. Let's get your face cleaned up and we can go sit and talk somewhere in private. I know I have things I need to say to you, and I suspect you have things to say to me as well." He waited outside the ladies' room while she washed and blotted her face, making herself presentable once more.

"I know a place here in the Student Center where we can talk in private," he declared. "Would you please come with me?"

Taking his hand in hers like she was never going to let go, she allowed him to show her a dark alcove beneath a set of stairs. Before he could say anything, she pulled his head down to kiss his lips.

"Jules, I am so, so sorry I nearly lost control last night."

"No, Tom, I'm the one who lost control. I nearly raped you!"

He began to object, but she interrupted.

"Tom, stop!" she commanded, quietly but intensely. "You did nothing wrong. I wanted you to do that. God! I can't tell you how much I want you to take control, to pound me into the mattress! It's only because A) I'm not on the pill, yet; B) we didn't have a condom; and C) I'm at the most fertile part of my cycle, that we did not FUCK last night. I want you, Tom, deep inside of me, claiming me as your own. I want to belong to you because you belong to me. I am never letting go of you!"

He was quiet, allowing her to get her words out. She still had more to go.

"One day, when we're married and doing well in our careers, I want you to knock me up, to get me pregnant with our child. God! Right now, I'm so horny, I can't see or think straight! I want to make love with you, to you. Sorry Renee Zellweger, but you complete me, Tom. You are everything I never knew I always wanted. I mean that, Tom. Fuck it! Come with me, now!"

She grabbed his hand, locked down on it, and practically dragged him across the Quad to her dorm. She led him to her room and snapped the deadbolt in the lock. She sat him on her bed, got out her silver six-inch vibrator, and handed it to him. While he investigated how to turn it on and change the levels, in addition to sniffing and licking it, she stripped naked and quickly lay on her bed.

"Now, you are going to learn how to make me cum!" she instructed. "Although right now, I'll probably cum if you kiss me." So, he did. He took her head in his right hand and kissed her deeply and thoroughly. She did orgasm from his kiss, although his left hand cupping her left breast and gently tweaking on her nipple may have also been a factor.