Girl Gone Mild Ch. 02

They walked to Robin's tower on the beach, side-by-side although they didn't hold hands. Not many other people were awake at this time of the morning, and those that did walk the streets were in rough shape.

Outside the tower lobby, Robin said to Brian, "Listen, why don't you go wait on that patio where the buffet was last night. I'll be right down."

"You don't want me to come with?"

"I... Look, it's—"

"No no, it's cool. I just thought, I dunno, if it's you versus seven naked idiots, trying to get your stuff out of there..."

"Ah, I don't think... Look, it'll be okay. I mean, they're sober now."

Brian shrugged, nodded. But he didn't leave.

"Yeah?" Robin probed.

"Well, come on. We haven't even discussed it."

"Discussed what?"

"I just think someone should say it out loud. You're gonna come stay with me for the week, right?"

Robin realized with a shock that, no, they hadn't discussed it. Where she had reservations the night before, there were now only foregone conclusions. Her eyes went wide at the realizations that she was both imposing on a complete stranger and, also, that he might not want her there. "Jesus, you're right," she said. "I just assumed..."

But Brian's smile made it all better. "So now we're in agreement. You'll stay with me."

Robin pushed her hands through her hair, which flowed clean and curly since there wasn't a drop of mousse, hair spray or conditioner in it. "I'm sure you came here to party with your friends. I don't want to cramp your style."

"And you also don't want to go to any parties with your girlfriends."

"Not really," Robin admitted.

"So we'll just hang out together. You and me. I'll come back next year and be completely alone and sexually polygamous."

"Polygamous?"

"That's what that word means, right?"

"I think so." They both laughed.

"Look, you're right about me." Brian took Robin's hands in his. "We're a lot alike. We gave into the peer pressure, and now that we're here, we found a better offer. So let's take it."

"And it goes where it goes."

"It goes where it goes." Brian kissed her lips, casually, familiar as any boyfriend she'd ever had. "I'll wait for you down here," he said, then walked away, then turned and gave her a wave. Robin waved back.

She approached the clerk's desk and told the man behind the counter her room number. The man looked in the computer and asked her name. When she told him, he replied, "I'm sorry, that's not your room."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I meant room..." Wait. No, she'd given the right number. She asked again.

"I'm afraid you aren't registered to that room." He typed something. "It says you're not a guest here."

Robin's mouth went dry. "What about... What about my friends?" She named Kari, Carmen and Brenda.

"Two of them are at this hotel."

"Two of them? Not all three? Can you tell me their room number?" She was livid but somehow kept from blowing her top completely.

"I'm afraid I can't give out that information."

Robin held her hands up in disgust. "Oh my GOD," she spat.

"Oh, you know what?" the clerk said. "I remember your name. I have a note for you." He reached below his desk and pulled out a sealed envelope. Robin thanked the man (it was hard to remember he wasn't a party to the crime) and plopped into one of the ratty loveseats in the lobby.

The letter said:

"Robin, hey girl. We changed rooms to one of those big-ass sweets (sic) with three bedrooms, so we could get it on with the boys from last nite. And we figured we'd save some cash by only having two names on the room instead of four, or eight. Come find us on the beach in front of Paradise Inn next door to the left, and we'll show you how to get in the room." The note was signed by Carmen, with a P.S.: "You missed a fuckin awesom time, but I bet you had some fun of your own! Wink wink."

Robin crumpled the letter in her hand. "I'm gonna kill them," she muttered. The letter was still balled up in her fist when she found Brian at the patio, or rather, outside the locked gate to the patio; only resort guests were allowed in, and he certainly wasn't one.

"What happened?" Brian asked, reading Robin's pained expression.

"Here," she said, and tossed him the ball. Brian read the note as he followed her to the beach. Then he laughed and threw the page in a trash can at the foot of the beach ramp. He asked, "So where the fuck's the Paradise Inn?"

"I wish the fuck I knew," she said, her arms crossed. They started off walking westward. After about ten minutes in that direction without finding the girls, they turned back the way they came and trudged ten minutes to the east of the resort. They didn't talk much, since Robin was mostly practicing her internal monologue, trying to come up with something to say to her co-called companions without sounding too shrill. After all, if she'd at least let them know how to get in touch with her the night before, she probably wouldn't be in this mess. She counted on Kari to do the right thing, orgies aside. Kari would make the best decisions. She had probably been rather smart in moving them all to the "sweet." (What the hell were they teaching Carmen and Brenda on the West Coast?)

After finding no sign of the girls, Robin laid back on the sand, covering her face with her hands. "Those dumb bitches!" she shouted. Kids in swimwear were starting to crowd onto the beach. Robin watched a group of four boys walk by, each of them openly ogling the scantily clad girls, herself included. She bet they hadn't been awake at eight in the morning since grade school, but for voyeurism they had made the exception.

"Now what?" Brian asked.

She hadn't thought that far ahead. With a tone of slight terror, she said, "I think I'm stuck in this bikini for the rest of the trip."

"I like it," Brian said, trying to be encouraging.

"It's not funny! I'm uncomfortable as it is. I thought if I were running around with the girls, with all of our tits hanging out, it would be okay. Now It'll just be me and..." She jerked her thumb in the direction of the staring morons. "... those guys. I don't have my wallet, my make-up, not even a pair of pants."

"So let me take care of you."

A hundred objections sprung to mind, but then Robin said, "You may have to."

"Come on, let's get out of here. We'll buy you some clothes. Where do you want to go?"

"Honestly? I just want to go back to the villa."

"The villa? You sure?"

"Yeah." She thought about it, then repeated, "Yeah. I'm not interested in wandering all over the beach, listening to crappy bands on tiny stages. I'm sure they'll just try to drag me into a wet t-shirt contest somewhere."

"That could be fun."

"Brian..."

"Look, lighten up. I agree. Let's go back to the villa and hang out. I've got cable."

"Cable? Bullshit. You just want to get into my pants."

Brian suddenly pulled Robin into his arms and held her fast. Up to this point he had been projecting an air of detachment, but now his intensity had returned. "No. You want to get into mine."

Robin melted. "Yeah. I do."

But it wasn't so simple. Despite the extraordinary aura of protection in which Brian cradled her, Robin could not help dwelling on how little she really knew about him, or how little time they had known each other. One section of her rational brain made the argument that Brian, a relative stranger, had stood by her far better than her life-long girlfriends, but another voice inside (she thought it sounded like her mother) refused to trust him completely. And all at once, Robin felt alone. If she'd known there was even a remote possibility that loneliness would be a result of this trip, she would never, ever have agreed to it. Sometimes she needed a bit of solitude, but that time was not meant to occur hundreds of miles from home. Today, this minute, she needed someone.

Brian, perhaps sensing he was part of the problem, changed the subject without knowing he had. "How about something to drink?" he said.

They walked in silence, still not holding hands, to a nearby McDonald's. But as soon as they entered, a crazy manager with a thick gray beard and bottle-thick glasses pointed at the door and shouted, "No shirt, no shoes, no service!"

"Dude, you must be joking," Brian said. His words mirrored Robin's thoughts. No self-observant fast food manager in Panama City Beach would be stupid enough to ban, by default, the vast majority of patrons.

The manager yelled at them again, and they left laughing. Next door was a little place called Cuba Cabana, apparently a taco joint. Brian bought two sodas and joined Robin in a booth, sitting across from her. They were the only customers this time of the morning.

"So?" Brian said. "Tell me what's wrong."

It was the last thing Robin wanted to do, but she predicted they would have deeper talks than this soon enough. Their fates were linked as surely as if they'd landed on a desert island together, surrounded by a sea of strangers rather than an ocean of water. "I have trust issues," she said.

"Sure."

"No, I mean, I don't trust anyone. I've been hurt before. Also, I've hurt a few boys myself. I wasn't very careful."

"Yeah. I get it."

Robin sipped her cola. "You can't just say you get it. It's not that easy."

"I know it's not easy. But I still get it. I just do."

"So explain it to me." Then she rolled her eyes. "I'm not a bitch. I'm really not. Please forgive me if I sound bitchy."

"Robin, this trip has sucked for you so far. And in the end, you don't really know me that well. You're wondering if you can trust me."

"I do trust you."

"You want to. I saved your life, or, you think I did."

"You did."

"I don't know if it would help, but..." He paused for a long time before speaking again. "There's something I've been meaning to say. It sounds corny and dumb in my head, but I feel like I can tell you anything. That's just where we are right now. Do you agree?"

"I do, actually."

"Then here goes. I want you to know I respect you. Even if we weren't attracted to one another physically—which, wow, we really are—I would still like talking to you. I kinda think the sex has complicated what was meant to be a really simple time for us. I thought you'd sleep in your room last night, and I'd sleep in mine, and we'd take it slow. But then... you know."

"You're saying I moved too fast."

"No, not at all. I love that we did that. And I'm looking forward to more. But if you said no, if you didn't want to make this any more complicated, you know, with more sex, I'd say okay. I'd keep my distance from your body if it meant I could get closer to your heart. Or head. Whichever sounds less cheesy."

An unguarded smile spread across Robin's face, but before she could say anything, a commotion at the door drew their attentions. A group of six college-aged guys, all athletic, all stinking drunk, entered with whoops and hollers. Three of them staggered to the counter and ordered food, while the other three sauntered over to Brian and Robin's booth. "Hey baby," they slurred at Robin, completely ignoring her partner. But Brian would not be ignored. He wedged himself between them and Robin, trying not to appear confrontational, then escorted the girl directly through the exit. Robin tried to laugh, but she was obviously shaken. "That was just..." Brian started to say, but then he went quiet as well. He was obviously upset.

They walked back to the villa, stepping into patches of grass as they found them to cool off their burning bare feet. The rowdy Spring Breakers were beginning to bombard the side streets, and the two left the crowds behind just in time to avoid getting jostled in the sea of half-nakedness where they met the day before. There was a brief discussion about grabbing a bite to eat, but it hadn't been very long since breakfast. Halfway to the villa, Robin's nipples grew hard in anticipation of the festivities to follow. She took that as a good sign

The nipples were still hard when Brian opened the door, pulled Robin inside and pinned her to the back of the door. He kissed her, not tenderly but rough and deep, his hands groping at her. She shoved her hand forcefully down the back of his swimsuit and pulled at his flesh. They almost seemed to be fighting or wrestling too hard as their hands yanked at each other's clothes. But then, Brian stopped. He led Robin to the living room and had her sit on the sofa, panting.

"Here," he said. "I thought of something I could do to make you trust me more."

"Moot at this point, don't you think?" C'mon, she thought, let's get on with it.

"But what about the trust?"

Robin had just successfully suspended her concerns, and now Brian was bringing them back up. She pulled the breaks on her churning libido and listened to what the boy had to say. "Well, let's have it."

"Trust me, you'll thank me."

"I'd better. What do you have to show me?"

"Something revealing. Something I've never done with anyone before."

Robin was still confused about what he might mean. Then Brian took a deep breath and untied the drawstring of his trunks, dropping them to his ankles. He kicked the shorts away.

No sound passed Robin's lips. The sight of Brian's suddenly naked body captivated her view. She instantly forgave him for breaking the mood, or rather, what she mistakenly thought of as breaking the mood. He was actually kicking it to a new level.

Brian tugged at his wiener, sort of uncommitted at first, then with a bit more force. The tool slowly grew thick and hard in his hand, and then, he moved his feet further apart as he started stroking for real. His gaze went from Robin to his dick, then back to Robin. There were no words, and not many sounds, as Brian jerked off for Robin to watch.

The boy had been correct. Not only was Robin utterly impressed with his willingness to perform for her, but she also knew how vulnerable he must feel, how vulnerable any boy would feel. He was showing her the best way he knew how that he trusted her not to laugh at him, or broadcast the secret of what he had done. He masturbated himself for a full two minutes, trying to appear masculine, which means not moaning or seeming to enjoy the act at all, although a couple of times he did let out some pretty commanding groans. It was the groans that got to Robin. She wanted that penis inside her in the worst way.

Eager, whimpering little Robin was unaware that her right hand had slipped down the front of her bikini bottom, but when the tip of her middle finger found her clitoris, awareness arrived with a jolt. She breathed hard as her left hand fumbled with the knot tied tight against her hip. At last the string fell apart, and she was able to push the thin orange fabric aside, revealing her moist hole for the boy to see. He reacted with appropriate verve, jerking harder and moaning deeper.

Brian's increased vigor triggered a reaction in Robin's hand, and the energy between them escalated. Soon they were masturbating hard and fast, much more intensely than Robin had ever jilled before. In the privacy of her dorm room or the shower, playing with herself could sometimes be a chore, a taxing exercise with orgasm as its distant reward. Its main benefit was the fantasy it inspired, and the effect the fantasy had in turn on her body. If she could ever have predicted what effect masturbation-as-public-performance would have had on her technique, she would have sought it out years before. With Brian staring at her cunt, almost salivating in his restraint to attack it, Robin felt her fingers perform expert caresses the likes of which she had never practiced. She spread her lips with two fingers, exposing the bright pink flesh of the inner vulva, moistening it with internal cream. There was a supreme pleasure in the mere touch of the tight, smooth, almost frictionless flesh in that space.

Her fingers dug deeper into the vagina, searching out the secret spots, tracing myriad textures, squishing juices out onto her fingers and palm, and by then there was no stopping her depraved show. Only once did her hand leave her pussy, just long enough to push aside the fabric cups of her bikini top, freeing her tits and giving her nipples some air. The AC was still off in the apartment, just the way she liked it, and the sweat was starting to pop up all over her skin.

"Oooh... oooh.... oooh...." the girl cooed between panting breaths, as she rocked her hips against the merciless onslaught of her own meat-slapping hands. She felt the orgasm calling to her nearly half-a-minute before it arrived, and she spent that time bracing herself for its impact—teeth grinding, muscles taut, eyes fixed on Brian's hard jerking. "Ah, I'm coming," she announced quietly, then proceeded to yelp several times as her hands, refusing her commands to stop, continued rubbing throughout the intense, deeply satisfying cum. Her head whipped side to side like a kite in the wind.

Brian stepped forward just in time to shoot his load across her mouth and cheeks. She had barely recovered from her own climax when the semen hit her taste buds, and it ignited a sensory overload that instantly reset her body for the next sexual ascent. She pushed the boy cum into her mouth with an index finger while the other hand untied the string behind her back. Brian yanked the top over her head as Robin took his cock in both hands, licking it clean.

Some of the surface tension began to drain from Brian's cock, but Robin would not have it. "Come on, boy," she said, still looking at the cock, "come on, stand up for me. I want you in me, I want you in my pussy. I want you to fuck my pussy. I wanna fuck, Brian. I wanna fuck again. Hard and fast. Get hard for me, baby. I want it again."

Robin's sexy talk hit its mark. The tool in her hand stiffened back up, encouraged by her tender massaging. She leaned forward to suck, but Brian bent his knees before she could reach it. He aimed the beast right at her naked crotch and slipped inside with zero resistance. The insertion took Robin's breath away, as a shiver of joy sped across her body. Then Brian cupped his hands under Robin's ass and lifted her straight into the air. Robin kissed Brian on the mouth, wet and sexy, as he carried her into her bedroom, presumably since the bed in his room was a soiled mess from the morning sex.

They hit the mattress with a jolt that terrified Robin just a little, because the big dick inside her momentarily jabbed right up into her chest. "Oh god!" she yelled, her teeth chattering. She didn't have a chance to recover, before Brian started with the fucking. And what a fucking it was. Missionary-style, with Brian's knees under the girl's thighs, his chest against hers and one hand clamped to the back of her neck, he held her in place and pistoned his cock deep in her tight, greasy passage, not gently, not slowly, but vicious as a machine. Pound, pound, pound, pound, pound, he drilled the girl savagely, now moaning without a hint of his earlier self-consciousness. Robin also moaned, enchanted by her utter lack of control over what was being done to her. She summoned as much strength as her upper body could find, clutching to Brian's throbbing, slippery back and shoulder muscles, but her lower body flailed, her knees bouncing against the boy's sides, her bottom lifting off the mattress time and time again as Brian's big cock lifted her right into the air.

As for her pussy, something wonderful was happening down there. She was enjoying the effects of Brian's single-minded pursuit of her womb. He neither slowed nor repositioned himself nor adjusted a single part of his sexual stance. He simply fucked her, fucked her hard, fucked her deep, burning her vagina muscles with friction, thumping against her cervix from time to time, smacking her clitoris with his upper pelvis bone. Rather than anticipating the oncoming orgasm, Robin realized—that is, her body realized—that the fucking itself was a climax unto itself, one long, glorious plateau of continuous pleasure. She pressed her open mouth against Brian's neck and howled like a creature possessed, licking and drooling, swimming in a thick pool of ecstasy.