Holly Woode

"Wheatfield," Nails scraping a chalkboard. Sure enough, Rhubarb in exactly three minutes.

"Come on in," I said.

She entered and nostrils flared as the smell of cum and pussy, and not the usual smell of coffee, assaulted her trained sniffer.

Rhubarb stood silent, as the picture didn't fit the smell. I was behind my desk looking over the article and holding a highlight pen. Holly was on the couch and just swallowed what Rhubarb thought was a sip of coffee. Holly held the coffee mug in her hand. But the office reeked of sex. Holly's breath reeked of sperm.

"I see you have someone here, I'll come back another time." With that she turned and walked away.

Not two minutes later Holly poked her head in Rhubarb's door long enough to make sure Rhubarb would catch the cum smell on her breath, and said "He's free." That episode would torment the inquisition.

***

A week or so later Holly told her roommate that she was going to visit a "cousin" out of town. Holly and I had arranged a little plot we could escape the Holier Than Thou grounds for a weekend. We drove separate cars, and she and I met up at a motel seventy-five miles from campus. The inquisition has eyes everywhere in town. We of course spent the weekend naked and fucking with small breaks for fluids and room service. We also plotted sure ways in the future to avoid the inquisition and Rhubarb's surveillance of my office. For "Plan A," we agreed no more office sex for a time. We would find ways to sneak Holly to my house. Holier Than Thou is typical of the small liberal arts college. The problem with any small liberal arts college is what I might call the "neighborhood watch." I lived within walking distance of grounds and so did half the rest of the faculty. It was as easy for the likes of Rhubarb or Chard to spy Holly walking in my front door as it was for them to spy her at my office-and at least at the office we had the excuse of her being my research assistant-we had no such excuse at my home. The new plan was that I would become an early riser, reach the office by seven, write all morning, teach my afternoon aesthetics seminar, and then saunter home by three or four. Holly would "go to the library to study," "go to the gym," "go to the chem. lab to work on a project" (the inquisition types avoid the hard sciences) or something of that ilk that would pass for a "reason to be gone" in the eyes of her roommate. Holly's roomie had been a delightful girl during her first year at Holier Than Thou. But in her second year, Holly's roomie had fallen in with the inquisition and decided to major in Womyn's Herstory. Roomie came under the influence of the high priestess of radical feminist lesbian studies and of folks like Rhubarb, Chard, and Bokchoi. She stopped shaving her legs and armpits. She stopped eating meat. She no longer gave blowjobs, as they were considered demeaning, though she continued to fuck boys as if she were in some contest where she who fucked the most different boys would win. In short, the roomie could no longer be trusted. It would ultimately be the roomie who would do us in, though we didn't know that as we crafted our plans.

To avoid the gaze of the neighborhood watch, Holly would let herself in my back door and try to take full advantage of the cover of darkness. Holly had keys to my office, my house, my car . . . so this would work so long as she found her way into her dorm room bed with enough regularity to give adequate face time to her roomie.

For "Plan B," we agreed that every third weekend Holly would drive to visit her "cousin." To be safe, we picked a hotel 150 miles from town for our regular rendezvous point. We safely could use the word "cousin" in emails and both of us would know the actual meaning. We thought about every other weekend visits to Holly's cousin, but we didn't want the roomie to get too suspicious about this cousin and ask to see a picture or even come along.

***

Had Holly lived in a "single" in the dorm, Plans A and B may have worked perfectly until Holly's graduation. As it was, the fall semester passed without further incident and the plans held up quite well for some time. Holly and I fucked ourselves silly at her parent's home in France during the four-week Christmas break. Holly's father was American by birth, but as his health was failing, the Woodes had moved full time to be near Holly's mom's family in France. Holly's parents encouraged us to be together. Her father made a point of taking me aside and telling me how good I was for his daughter. He told me frankly that she had been a distracted flake in high school-brilliant but unfocused. Since "getting together" with me, she was all A's and happy. His only request was that I always take care of her.

***

We did find ways to risk some danger. I think we both thrilled at prospect of imminent discovery. Professor Dante Wagon-Moo ran the drama program at Holier Than Thou. He was a drunken sot whose claim to fame was that he starred for two years in a soap opera and for three weeks in an off off off Broadway production of the long forgotten play "A Wet and Sated Land." For whatever reason, I guess, because people indulge the eccentricity of drama types, Wagon-Moo was able to require his drama workshop students to strip naked and "emote," as he put it, while he called out feelings and moods from his podium. I could never figure out if he was looking at the naked boys, or the naked girls when his workshop students "emoted." Anyway, Wagon-Moo asked me to help with the spring production of a play he had written called "Jack Booted Thugs and Other People I Admire in Austria." He wanted me to play the part of a Third Reich Nazi goon; I demurred, but eventually agreed to run the light booth. That basically meant I sat in a dimly lit room high above the theatre and made sure lights changed on cue.

Holly could not resist the opportunity to play out her own little drama while the goons marched about on stage. The night the play went up I heard a quiet tapping on the light booth door during the very first scene of the play. I feared that I had somehow already missed a cue, I didn't know how I could have done that as one of those state-of-the-art computer programs ran most of the lights, but I opened the light booth fearing a dressing down from an overwrought Wagon-Moo.

Holly slipped in when I cracked the door. She made no sound but slipped off her grey sweat pants. I relocked the door. I pointed at the light-board and mouthed that I needed to pay attention. She nodded and downed my zipper. She obviously felt I did not need to wear pants to work a light board. I sat in the little low, wheeled chair that I used to work the board and Holly kneeled in front of me. I guess I didn't need to wear shoes either to work a light board, because Holly had my shoes and socks off my feet in seconds. She started to suck my toes. On stage, jackbooted thugs kicked sharply pointed highly polished black jackboots into the unprotected crotches of political criminals to the wild whoops and hollers of a cheering audience. In the lightbooth, Holly's impossibly long tongue slathered itself between my toes. She sucked my toes in the fashion that I used on her bulbous nipples. From time to time she would take my foot from her mouth and rub it through her furry bush. She had let her hair return to full flower after her late August shave. She sucked my little toe, the one next to it, and eventually my big toe. She bobbed up and down as if it were my penis. Her hand fondled my balls and stroked my aching shaft. In quite disciplined fashion, she avoided letting her hand even casually stroke my penis head. I struggled to follow the light cues. Thank God the computer did most of the work. First scene passed into second into third and into the second act. Soon would come intermission and Wagon-Moo would burst into the light booth to "chat" about how the play was going. I wore a headset while I worked the booth and I could hear Wagon-Moo back stage mumbling something to me about slow lights, and encouraging everyone in the cast to give them a great climax before intermission. Perhaps Holly heard that director's command as she stood and planted her very wet sex on my aching penis. She has strong legs and she lifted herself slowly and quietly up and down the whole length of my shaft so as not to move the wheeled chair or to disturb the show unfolding below. As the jackbooted thugs on stage dragged their prisoners to be shot, Holly squeezed her pussy tight around my cock and I erupted deep inside her sopping pussy. Her thick pussy lips tickled my balls and encouraged them to squirt more cum. It was time for the house lights to rise and Holly stood, on cue, donned her sweat pants and quietly exited the booth. I hustled my pants back on. No time for the shoes. Sure enough Wagon-Moo pounded on the door in about a minute.

"Great job Wheatfield!" he exclaimed. "You seemed to hold back some of the lights. Not sure why you did it, but it gave my jackbooted thugs an even darker look. You are brilliant man! You captured the pace and mood of tonight's performance perfectly. I guess that's why you teach aesthetics."

I had no clue just how many light cues I had missed but whatever I did, it worked for Wagon-Moo. He reeked of scotch, but I think he usually reeked of scotch. He could not smell the sex filling the light booth-or maybe he could. Holly returned for an encore after the intermission. I got the impression that she was very thirsty because she bobbed her head up and down on my penis until it gave her a mouthful of cum. She repeated that up and down motion many more times until my tired balls managed another spoonful of jiz. She repeated her performance every night the play ran. I think it was the last night Holly ran into Drusilla Chard in the theatre lobby.

"Ms. Woode, are you in the play? I don't see your name in the program." Drusilla was being a bit too friendly and prattled as usual. "I have an extra ticket if you are just here to watch. I was going to offer my ticket to that Professor Wheatfield but I learned he is running the lights for this show. I am sitting with Professors Rhubarb and Bokchoi if you want to find us."

"I'm helping with refreshment for the tech crew," was all Holly said. "Gotta run. Show must go on." She scooted away from them without further incident but seemed to gain a special inspiration that made her suck my penis with just a bit more vigor as if she was in a "just how much can I make him cum" contest.

After that night's performance Holly made a point of walking past Chard, Rhubarb and Bokchoi-and pausing a minute to talk-on their way out of the theatre so that they could smell the sex on her breath and body. She had smeared my cum over her chest and behind her ears, to make herself "all the more fragrant," she had whispered to me, "for her public."

***

It dawned on Holly that for all of our exuberant fucking, we had never fucked in her dorm room. For that matter, I had never even seen her dorm room. She decided that she would feel a little less than complete were she not to have at least one collegiate sexual experience in her own dorm room. I was the only man she had been with her first year at Holier Than Thou. It was also clear that I was going to be her only man in her second year at Holier Than Thou, so we needed to find a way to do it in her bed and leave some stains on her mattress-what is a college mattress but a collection of several generations of sperm. Of course, her roomie was now in league with the inquisition and couldn't be trusted. And then there was the problem of loose lips. Five rooms on each side of her hall, ten rooms total, two girls in each room, hence 19 pairs of lips who might spill our secret to the inquisition. They may not spill the secret on purpose, that's not the point. All we needed, or didn't need, was someone laughing about the "professor" who boinked their hallmate. The obvious answer was spring break. Most of the dorm would be deserted and Holly's hall itself would be empty. Half the girls were heading to Cancun to get naked on some rock video television network, the other half, including Holly's roomie, were taking in a "famous closeted lesbian painters of Europe" junket that was being lead by the high priestess herself and Herbertia Bokchoi. I wondered if Herbertia collected everyone's used tampons on the trip as inspiration for her poetry.

Holly gave me he security code to the dorm and about 9 PM on the first Saturday of spring break I let myself into a very dark dorm lobby. I had walked carefully around the Holier Than Thou grounds in order to avoid running into anyone from campus security. In a few spots I ducked behind a bush to let a security patrol pass by. Security and the custodial staff were used to oddball faculty members who worked late into the night, but my faculty ID card only spelled trouble were I forced to flash it on the steps of a dorm. Holly's room was on the second floor and she had promised to be waiting with a surprise. I crept quietly up the stairs. I didn't know who else was in the dorm so I was careful not to do anything silly to draw attention to me. When I reached the second floor landing, I followed the arrow towards the rooms numbered 201-210. Her room was 205 and a post-it on the door instructed me simply to walk in.

I almost died laughing when I walked through the door. Holly was hunched over her desk studying chemistry. Papers were strewn everywhere. She wore gym shorts, a grey sweatshirt, and fuzzy slippers. Her hair was wrapped above her head in a scrungy. A green mud skin-toning mask covered her face. A large pizza, one slice eaten, lay on her roomie's bed. An empty cardboard from a twelve pack of beast beer sat next to her fridge. She wanted a true, late night, college dorm fuck. She popped a Steely Dan CD into a boom box (retro for me) and offered me a slice of pizza and a can of beast. Visions of my first year in college filled my head as I tried to remember how many late night bull sessions were fueled by pizza, beer, and that slight, I have studied too hard and can't sleep rush. I took a slice, popped open a can of beast and sat on the floor my back against her bed. She started to talk about her week. She and I talked constantly. Don't get the idea that we were all about quick sex. We weren't. But this was about her reminding me that she was still just a college girl. I don't think she would change things, she had chased me after all, but maybe she wished the inquisition wasn't clamped down so tight on folks' private affairs.

"Daria was at it again this past week," Holly went on about her philosophy professor. "She was explaining to us that there are no such things as objective measures in the world. I guess that in Daria's world a .300 hitter is a .250 hitter is a .195 hitter. You pay them all 20 million and be done with it. And I think her brother is a rocket scientist. Very scary. Hope he doesn't think like she does when he launches the space shuttle. Or maybe he ran that NASA Mars mission where they oopsed the measurements and crashed the probe on the planet." She laughed. She had dorm bullshit down to a science. She was playing a role for me and playing it quite well. She was going to make me work to get into her pants tonight.

"You always wear that warpaint around here?" I asked.

"It makes me beautiful. And green is my color." She rose and pirouetted. She grabbed a slice of pizza and sat down next to me. I handed her a can of beast.

"Thanks, yum." She chugged down half the can in character.

"And where is herself?" I inquired about roomie.

"On the closeted lesbian tour...and you know they are closeted of course...because they claim to be straight."

"Of course? And that I suppose would make you closeted because you are seen in the company of so many Holier Than Thou boys?"

"Touché" she said. "Maybe I'll have to do something about my mask so you remember I am a pretty girl. Don't go anywhere." She ran to bathroom on the end of the hall carrying a pail and a towel. In what seemed only seconds Holly reappeared fresh faced and smiling. She made sure the door was bolted and sat back down next to me. She kissed me. A little peck on the cheek. We chatted for a while more and downed a few more beasts.

"If you need to pee, its probably safe. I think the only other girl in the dorm is on the third floor and she's a certified vestal."

"Wanna show me where to go?"

"Sure."

We walked down the hall and entered the bathroom at the end of the hall.

"Wanna help?"

"Sure," she said.

She pointed me in a stall. She unzipped, reached in, pulled out my dick, stood behind me, wrapped her arms around me, held on, aimed me, and finally said, "let her rip."

I peed. She aimed. She watched the stream. Moved it around some and made quite the mess of the toilet seat...which she had left down. When I reached the end she gave a little waggle, turned me around, squatted down and gave me a lick.

"We don't want any odd drips, and I don't know if I have the waggle down," Holly smiled. She stuffed me back in and zipped me up. "All better?" She asked.

"Getting there."

We walked back to the room me following behind her, arms wrapped around her waist. We kissed when we were in the room. Holly remembered to close and lock the door just in case hostiles walked by. We kissed some more, gentle kisses, the kind of kisses where lips embrace lips.

"Hmm, dorm sex," I said. "It's been so long."

"I've never had dorm sex." Holly gave me the wide-eyed look. "I don't know if I should let a boy put that nasty long thing in little me."

"Oh you must."

"But you're a boy."

"And you're a girl."

"I just held it and it's so big. It might hurt." She mocked innocence.

"Its entirely natural."

"But what if we make a baby?"

"Then your doctor wrote a bad pill 'script."

"But would we keep it?" I sensed this question was serious when Holly asked it.

"Of course. I love you." I gave a serious answer without missing a beat.

She gave me such the passionate kiss. She unzipped my pants, pulled off my boxers, practically tore off my sweatshirt. I was pulling off her shorts and sweatshirt at the same time. It was a contest to see who could get the other naked fastest. As this was to be a night of "dorm sex," beyond a little kissing, the only foreplay was Holly spreading her legs as she laid her back on the bed. I mounted and thrust in. Sad as it may be, I tried very hard to play the role of undergrad boy and I pounded as hard and as fast as I could so that I could cum "before she changed her mind about the whole thing."

Holly did her part saying, "No, I'm not sure about this, stop stop. Maybe we shouldn't be doing this? Wait don't stop. Faster. Deeper. Harder Faster. Wait stop. I shouldn't be doing this. You brute. You're hurting me. I'll tattle to the inquisition. Are you wearing a condom? No don't stop. Ok, stop. Maybe stop. Is this safe? Stop. No don't stop. Definitely don't stop. Oh my God if you stop I will kill you."

Of course she wasn't going to change her mind, but I had a role to play. She totally got off on the acting, or maybe she got off because the sex was so different from our usual routine. She came before I did (damn), but I managed to fill her with a good load of cum well before the ten-minute mark. I rolled off of her and immediately asked about the pizza. I stood up, pulled on my boxers (it's a dorm, you never know who will drop in) and my t-shirt, grabbed another slice and cracked open another can of beast beer. Holly died laughing. I think cracking open the beer right after sex made her night. She pulled on panties, an oversized t-shirt and her fuzzy slippers. She sat down next to me and popped open her own beer.

"I could get used to you you old coot," she said.

"Damn, I will have to fuck you all the faster and harder next time."