Friends in Need Ch. 01

Isn't it strange how little we really know about our friends? We think we know someone, just because we know what their favourite food is, or their favourite colour, or what the film that makes them cry is. But in the end, we can never know what's inside their hearts and souls. Not if we're not really looking. And, at the same time, what can our friends know about us? If they're not really looking, that is…

It turns out one particular friend of mine knew me better than I ever thought she could. Actually, she seemed to know me better than I seemed to know myself. But I'm skipping ahead now.

At 21, I was attending the 2^nd year of my course at Manchester University. Not a particularly interesting course, I'll admit, but one with some promising job opportunities in the future. And it left me enough free time to do stuff I liked. Can't really say I was the poster boy for wild nights and binge drinking. I preferred quiet nights with friends, talking till late, watching movies, joking around… not that I was averse to clubbing or partying, it just wasn't my forte.

Women were also a problem. I was extremely shy, to the extent of actually fumbling for words and mumbling incoherently when trying to chat anyone up. The result, most of the time, was that most women I knew found me extremely sweet and liked me as a friend, but rarely did that translate to attraction.

On the other hand, it made me privy to some of their most clandestine conversations; those concerning men. There were quite a few times when I had ended up hanging out with three or four girls in dorm rooms talking about their boyfriends or their troubles with men. As the only representative of the gender, I was often asked to offer sage advice about the enigma that was man. Most of the time, though, I found that I couldn't contribute much because I just didn't seem to think like my fellow guys. My girl friends would go on and on about how their boyfriends didn't understand them, how selfish men are, how none of them really knows how to treat a girl, and I found myself agreeing with them more and more, when I should have been defending my gender. As a result of course, this led to them liking me more and more, and trusting me with their secrets more and more often, just as if I was one of them. Needless to say, this was considered an extremely useful trait by my male friends, who often tried to get into the girls' minds through me. Even though I indulged them sometimes, usually I just refused; I felt I just couldn't betray my girl friends' trust. This in turn worked to make them appreciate my friendship even more.

So there I was, in the middle of two camps, and feeling like I belonged to none. Until I met Diana. Diana was a 19, a 1^st year student of art history, and one of the most beautiful girls I'd ever seen. She was petite, with a slender body with smooth, soft curves, dark brown curls that flowed down her back, and beautiful green eyes that complemented a heart-shaped face with a perfect little nose and full pink lips. She loved to wear low-cut jeans and keep her belly exposed with the right tops and shirts. The first time I saw her in one of our night séances with the girls, I was struck dumb. And it kept happening every time I saw her.

I had known her for six months through the other girls, and she already confided away all her boy troubles to the girls – and me. But for me it was different now. I was seriously attracted to that girl. I felt a connection with her that I just couldn't explain. And I thought she must have felt something too, because all the time she seemed to direct conversations to me, going past the rest of the girls.

As the days passed, I realised I couldn't just sit back and do nothing like I had done with other girls I'd liked. I had to tell Diana how I felt about her. She did have a boyfriend at the time, but she sounded so disappointed in him, and I just knew I could be the boyfriend she deserved. So I worked up the courage, and I looked for my chance.

A few months had passed when I saw an opening. Diana's birthday was approaching, and her boyfriend had gone off home for that month. It helped that they had had a really huge fight before he left, a fight I knew all about, of course; since Diana, sure enough, had confided everything to me, along with her girlfriends. That weekend, Diana decided to throw a big party for her birthday. I immediately knew that it was then… or never.

The day of the party I arrived at Diana's and her roommates' house with a couple of friends of mine. I had made sure I looked the best I could that day – fresh jeans, a colorful shirt that a girl had told me brought out the colour of my eyes, my light brown hair painstakingly done. I had spent twenty minutes getting ready, which was probably the longest it'd ever taken.

As soon as we entered the house, we got separated. The place was packed, and the guests were evenly divided in girls and boys, everyone looking as dashing as they could. I looked for Diana immediately, and there she was, getting chatted up by three guys already. Not that I could blame them; she looked absolutely breathtaking. Her dark brown curls were flowing around her face and down her bare shoulders, a tight tube top was struggling to keep her curves in check (and always looking like it was about to fail), and a frilly mini-skirt which left most of her slender legs open to general admiration.

My heart sank. How would I be able to even get close to her, let alone talk to her, tell her how I felt? I turned toward the kitchen, in search for a drink. I got a beer from the stash there and I was opening it when I bumped into Cathy, one of Diana's roommates. She greeted me warmly (I was in her close circle of confidantes, after all), and we talked for a while, getting up to speed with everything. We walked back to the living room, where Diana was still talking to one of the guys from before, when Cathy called out to her, pointing at me. Diana's face lit up in a beautiful smile.

"Darren!" she shouted. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about little old me!" she pouted. "When did you come in?"

"Uh, just fifteen minutes ago…" I stammered. "You were kind of busy, so I thought I'd get some alcohol in me in the meantime!"

"Oh come on, Darren, you know I'm never too busy for you!" she giggled. "What do you think of the party then?"

"It's great," I replied. "A lot more girls than I'm used to seeing in parties, these days. Tom and Dave are going to be ecstatic," I joked.

Diana looked at me, smiling lopsidedly. "And you?"

Taken aback at the question, I cleared my throat. "I, uh, I kind of already have my eye on someone…"

"Really?" she said, lifting an eyebrow. "Is the lucky girl in here?"

"Uh, as a matter of fact, um, she kind of is. Uh…" I stammered. God, why couldn't I talk normally in those situations…?

She smiled, looking expectantly at me.

"Um," I tried to continue, "but I'm not really sure what she'd think about it… I…"

Suddenly, she grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the stairs. "You know," she said, "it's too loud down here. Let's go upstairs and talk for a minute."

"Um, I… okay…" That was not what I had expected. To tell the truth, I didn't know what to expect. I didn't even had a plan in my head. I was improvising all the way. I just hoped I could come up with something that didn't insult her, something that wouldn't ruin our friendship, if everything didn't go the way I wanted it to.

She led me straight to her bedroom, which I'd never seen before – my heart was racing at this point. The bedroom was decorated in the way a 20 – year – old girl would be expected to decorate, with a lot of bright colours, pictures of fuzzy animals and beautiful sunsets. We sat down on the bed, and she took my hand. "Well?" she asked.

"Well," I began, "um, you see, this girl, she…"

"Darren, I know," she stopped me.

I froze. "What do you mean?"

"I know I'm that girl. The girl you like."

I was confused. "Wh… how? I mean…" I stammered. I couldn't place my feelings. She knew; well, that made it all easier. I should be relieved. But…

"But how do you know?"

She smiled. "There are ways for a girl to know, silly. We notice these things. Just as we notice other things, too."

"What other things?"

In reply, she took my hand and placed it on her thigh. My breath caught the moment my fingers touched her skin. Her thigh was smooth, soft, the skin warm and inviting.

"Diana, I…" I began.

She shushed me softly, then leaned close and kissed me. We kissed for a few moments, her lips parting to give way to her tongue, as we explored each others mouths like this.

After a few more moments had passed, she broke off and looked at me. "Darren, you're one of the sweetest guys I've ever met. I want to do this for you. I've waited for a long time to do it."

I didn't quite understand what she meant by that, but then her hand was caressing my crotch, where my cock had already grown hard with anticipation. She made me lie down on the bed while she climbed on top of me, unbuttoning my jeans. It was all happening so fast. I'd never expected this, I thought, not that I hadn't dreamt about it, but this soon?

Diana quickly and expertly got rid of my jeans and fished around in my boxers. The moment her fingers made contact with my cock, I let out a moan of pleasure, despite myself. She looked at me and smiled, while her fingers caressed my hardness. Then my boxers were off, and my cock was standing to attention in front of her.

"Well, took me long enough to find out about this," she smiled, wanking me softly. Then she lowered her head, and started kissing the length of my shaft, planting soft, wet kisses all over it. I could not believe what was happening, the girl of my dreams right there, giving me the best blowjob I'd ever had, and I hadn't even had to work for it! She kept one for a while, alternating between sucking and wanking me, changing rhythm every so often, just enough to make me thrash and moan, but not to send me over the edge.

Then she stood up, and with two swift moves got rid of her top and skirt. She wasn't wearing a bra, only a black lacey thong. She climbed on the bed towards me, and straddled me. "Is this what you wanted, Darren?" she purred. "Do you want something more? Do you want to fuck me?"

She was driving me insane with lust suddenly. "God, yes. Yes, I want to fuck you, Diana," I moaned. I tugged at her thong, lowering it to her ankles. With a flick of her leg she tossed it on the floor, and straddled me again, her bald pussy exposed to me now. She teased my cock with her slit for a few moments, reveling in the feeling, before she lowered herself on it. The moment of penetration was incredible, I was totally out of control now, as I started pumping her wildly, and she took it all, riding my cock as if we had done this a dozen times.

After a while, I pulled out, and she lay on all fours, looking back at me invitingly. I took a moment to admire her curves, her skin, her smell. She wiggled her ass expectantly at me, and I almost came right then and there. I didn't waste anymore time, I positioned my cock behind her and drove it straight into her wet pussy. As I fucked her harder, her moans became louder, and I felt grateful for the loud music downstairs. She certainly wasn't holding anything back.

We switched again, as she lay on her back with her legs outstretched, and I hammered into her, looking in her eyes. She wrapped her legs around my waist and held me there, as I pumped harder and harder into her. She cupped my face, and we kissed as I fucked her. Just then, as she held me in place, I felt something else…

To be continued…