My Days as a Swim Coach Pt. 03

I reluctantly left my bedroom, and unsure of how long they wanted me gone for, I headed down to the equipment room. After I had tidied up in there, I cleaned the women's locker room, and generally busied myself, until Erica finally texted me, that I could return to my room.

The girls had made quite a mess of my room, having consumed two bottles of wine between them. Also, judging by the pile of clothes on my bed, Irene had tried on everything in her suitcase, before deciding what to wear for her night on the town. I cleaned up after them, hanging Irene's clothes up in my small closet. I waited up as long as I could, but ended up going to bed just before midnight. I left a night-light on so that Irene could find her way into my bed, when she got home.

It took me a long time to fall asleep, the thought of Irene making out with another man driving me crazy with jealousy. In the middle of the night, they stumbled into my room, Erica, Irene and some random guy. I knew Irene had a low tolerance for alcohol, and as I heard her slurring her words, I could tell that she was drunk.

"Just let me get rid of my roommate, Laurent," Irene said with a giggle.

As soon as I heard her address him as "Laurent," I knew who they had brought home. Laurent Pascal was a French student, in his final year of his Master's program in economics. Well known on campus as a Lothario, he was in his mid-twenties, well-groomed, and a good-looking, athletic man. In addition to being articulate and intelligent, he also helped run the fledgling Lacrosse program, having spent time on the East Coast of the USA, in a prestigious preparatory college.

There was a rumor that he enjoyed an ongoing sexual relationship with the twins, and they made no attempt to dispel it, as any association with Laurent would only increase their notoriety on campus. I was pissed off that Erica had brought this stud back to my room, and I got out of my bed to assess Irene's level of intoxication. Even in the half-light of my bedroom, illuminated as it was by the night-light, I could tell that Irene was drunk. She was giggling and hanging all over the French guy, and she was dressed far more provocatively than I had ever seen her. As the three of them collapsed in a heap on my bed, Erica told me to beat it.

As I struggled to throw my clothes on, I heard the sounds of passionate kissing. I knew that Erica was promiscuous, having spent many hours jerking off to her social media accounts, that were full of pictures of her partying and hooking up with various older men. However, I hadn't expected her to go to a local college bar, pick up a well-known stud, and bring him back to my room.

The kissing continued, a frantic, passionate make-out session, that if it continued, was leading to sex. As I headed for the door, unsure of where I was going to sleep, Erica spoke.

"Here are your car keys, Oscar. I parked your Honda in Student Lot C," she informed me, thus answering any questions about where I was sleeping that night.

"Laurent will take good care of Irene. Now beat it, you pussy," she said derisively, emboldened by the alcohol.

My heart sank, as I realized that the kissing had continued the entire time that Erica had been talking. Apparently, it was Irene who was sucking face with the campus Lothario, her low tolerance for alcohol stoking her libido, and affecting her judgement.

I reluctantly left the room, pausing for a few moments outside my door to see if I could hear anything. I listened to the muffled sounds of giggling and whispering that, in college dorms, typically precede sex, and then I dragged myself away.

I endured a fitful night in my beat-up Honda, and was up at 5am waiting for some kind of message that invited me to return to my bedroom. Around seven-thirty, Erica texted me.

"Oscar, you may come home now. Pick up some croissants from the French bakery on the way. The three of us are starving."

Jealousy does not begin to describe the emotions I was feeling, as I stopped by the French bakery before heading home. I couldn't believe the balls on Laurent, spending the night with Irene, then hanging out in the morning, as her boyfriend brought him some pastries to remind him of home. I hadn't got a good look at him the night before, although even in the dim illumination of the night-light, I could tell he was much bigger than I was. He was athletic too, his powerful build honed from years of playing competitive Lacrosse. He was a fully grown man, whereas my physical development was ongoing.

I calmed down as I walked from the Student Parking Lot to my house, deciding not to engage Laurent physically, but rather to just politely ask him to leave. I felt like a jealous fool when I entered my room and saw Erica, Irene and Jessica sat on my bed, chatting excitedly about the events of last night. I gave Irene a kiss on the forehead, and she looked up at me with a smile. She looked very relaxed, glowing almost, as she thanked me for the croissants.

"Did Laurent leave?" I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.

"Laurent is never around in the morning," Erica said wistfully. "He is a busy guy."

After breakfast, Erica and Jessica informed me that they were going to take Irene on a tour of the City, and they asked me where I had parked the car. I told them and they left shortly afterwards, leaving their breakfast plates and coffee mugs for me to deal with. After I had done the dishes, I went to make my bed.

As I pulled back the sheets, I noticed two pairs of panties had been left there. A smile crossed my face as I remembered how the twins would leave their silky panties for me, back when they were trying to ensnare me. The smile quickly disappeared as I recognized that one of the pairs belonged to Irene. At least, I thought they did. We didn't live together, and didn't combine our laundry, so I couldn't be one hundred percent sure. However, they were the same brand and size, medium, as Irene's favored underwear, so I strongly suspected that they were hers.

As I picked up the Victoria's Secret thong, I noticed that the crotch was slick with her vaginal secretions. Whatever Laurent had got up to last night with my girlfriend, had made her cream her panties. I recognized the other pair as Erica's, both by sight and scent. Over the months that the twins had tormented me with their panties and the photos, I had seen most of their underwear, and this tiny silky g-string, was definitely Erica's.

I picked them up to sniff the intoxicating scent, but as they neared my nose, I noticed semen in the crotch. Apparently, Laurent had got balls-deep inside the young Czech girl last night, in addition to making my girlfriend cream her panties. I felt my jealousy rise within me again, although there was nothing that I could do about it. I had given my blessing to Irene expanding her sexual horizons, and had to live with the consequences of that.

I ended up having to wash all of my bedding, as there were lots of dried secretions on my sheets, and inexplicably, on my pillow. I knew that the latter was intentional. Erica had either jerked Laurent off onto my pillow, or squatted above it after he came inside her, just to fuck with me.

Later on that day, as I was leaving the library, after catching up on some reading material for an upcoming theory test I was giving the girls, I saw Laurent holding court by the fountain. He was surrounded by about a dozen jocks, mostly his teammates from the University Lacrosse program. They were listening intently to his bullshit stories, and after deciding that I wanted a closer look at this guy, I sauntered down to the fountain, and sat a few yards away with my books, just within earshot.

He had evidently finished his latest fabrication, because it was question time among his fanboys. As they asked him about his time in the United States, and his prospects of playing Lacrosse professionally there, in the well-developed leagues of the East Coast, the conversation turned to his love-life. It seemed like his favorite phrase was "a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," but after much insistence from his crew of admirers, he did admit a couple of things.

"I fucked Erica again," he said to a roar of approval from his crew. "Although the other twin wasn't there this time. She was with a cute redhead who doesn't go to school here."

"Did you fuck her too, Laurent?" someone asked enthusiastically.

"Not a chance," he admitted freely. "She is a virgin, waiting for her wedding day," he added, to a chorus of boos.

I had a satisfied smile on my face, as I processed the fact that Irene had shut down this fabled Lothario. Having been given freedom to explore her sexuality, Irene had remained virtuous, true to me. I knew that deep down she was a good girl.

Having paused for dramatic effect, Laurent dropped the other shoe.

"I ended up titty-fucking her in her boyfriend's bed," he added, to a stupendous cheer from the guys. "I blew my load into her neck, and all over her boyfriend's pillow. I think I just about got out of there before that pussy got home."

Once the guys had stopped cheering their local hero, the lewd comments began. They were laughing and carrying on, wondering whether or not the boyfriend would sleep on his cum-stained pillow tonight. Whether Laurent would take his girl's virginity away from him. Whether he would enjoy a blowjob from her.

"What was her name?" one of his fanboys asked, "the redhead?"

"Fuck if I remember," Laurent responded. "Eileen? Jolene? I don't care!"

As I listened to him diminish the love of my life, I felt rage surging through me. I wanted to get up from the low stone wall of the fountain, walk over to him and punch him in the face. However, as I surveyed him from a distance, I could see his muscular forearms protruding from his Ralph Lauren Polo shirt, as he pumped his fist in the air in response to the crowd.

Even if I did knock him out, I reasoned, there were twelve or thirteen of them, and I would have outed myself as the guy whose pillow Laurent defiled. Labels like that stick in University, and I didn't want to be forever known as a cuckold. So, for this reason, I gathered my books together, and left quietly.

Irene and the twins got home later that afternoon, and they had been shopping. Irene had bought a new silk top, something that was far more risqué than she normally wore. She had also replaced the camisole that she had borrowed from Erica the previous night, and as she handed it to her, she apologized for soiling the original one. I never got any more details, but I had to wonder if Irene had been wearing that camisole when Laurent had tit-fucked her?

I guess I must have looked like I needed answers, because when Irene went to take a shower, the twins came and sat next to me.

"Word travels fast around this University," Jessica began, resting her beautifully manicured hand on my wrist. "I want you to hear the truth from us."

"About Laurent?" I asked nervously.

"He never fucked Irene," Erica assured me. "Contrary to what you might hear around campus, your girlfriend is still a virgin. Laurent has a tendency to exaggerate, which is so unnecessary given the amount of play that he gets."

"So unnecessary," Jessica repeated, as if to confirm that Laurent got a lot of play.

"Did he tit-fuck her?" I asked, the words leaving my mouth before I had a chance to think about it.

"Yes," Erica said immediately. "At least I think so. I saw Laurent hand her the body lotion and tell her to lube her tits up for him. When they were done, he rolled over onto his side and dozed off. Irene and I hugged goodnight and she had ejaculate on her neck and in her hair. Then, in the morning I noticed dried semen on your pillow, and on my camisole that she had borrowed from me. So, I assume so."

"How could you not see it?" I asked incredulously. "The three of you were in a single bed together. Where were you?"

Jessica and Erica exchanged a knowing smile, and then both burst out laughing, which only increased my frustration.

"He's French." Jessica said, as if that answered my question.

"What difference does that make, Jessica?" I asked. "I don't understand."

"French guys like certain things," Erica added, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"For fuck's sake, Erica," I said in exasperation, finally losing my cool. "Where were you when Laurent was fucking my girlfriend's tits?"

As soon as she said it, it made sense. I didn't like it, but it crystallized things for me.

"I was eating Laurent's ass," she said cheerfully. "While he straddled Irene's chest and presumably fucked her tits," she said slowly, as if I was simple. "He is going to make Irene rim him tonight," she added as both twins started to giggle again.

I couldn't believe their cavalier attitude to Irene's sex education. They seemed fine with the notion that my girlfriend would eat Laurent's ass. Apparently, Irene's commitment to remain a virgin until our wedding night, left every other sexual act, no matter how depraved, on the table.

When Irene got out of the shower, I told her that we needed to talk. She got dressed and wrapped a towel around her head, as we sat together on my bed.

"Are you seeing Laurent again tonight?" I asked, trying to contain my jealousy.

"Yes," Irene responded excitedly, "He is taking the twins and I dancing. We will need the room when we get back later tonight."

"How far are you going to let him go, Irene?" I pressed her. "That guy has a reputation for being a real womanizer."

"Well deserved, no doubt," she responded. "He is handsome, athletic, clean, and experienced. What more could a woman want? You gave me your permission to expand my sexual horizons, would you rather that I experiment with a large number of different men?"

When she put it like that, it was not my preferred scenario, but I felt like she was moving very quickly with Laurent, so I tried to tell her so.

"I trust you, baby," I began, "but you don't have to try everything on the first date."

"Oh, Oscar," she responded, "sweet boy, always trying to protect me. I won't drink as much tonight, you know how I get when I am intoxicated."

"No, Irene," I corrected her. "That is not a valid excuse. The last time I saw you drunk, we made out and dry-humped for thirty minutes. I ended up coming in my underwear, not all over your neck and hair."

Irene started to giggle at my last remark, and it was clear that we had very different ideas about her new-found sexual freedom. The twins joined her for moral support and I knew that I was fighting a losing battle. Irene was staying one more night at the University and the three of them started to make plans for the evening. Even though their plans were fluid, they had a common goal. They were going to hit the University bars, find Laurent and bring him back to my room, in a quest to continue the expansion of Irene's sexual horizons.

Irene had dressed way more provocatively than usual, and as the twins helped her with her makeup, they got sick of my intervention, and told me to get lost. Erica texted me about an hour later to let me know that they had left, and I returned to my room. It smelled like someone had sprayed Prive Rose all over it, and I felt my cock stiffen immediately. I wanted to jerk off but I knew I was on sexual restriction, and sure enough, moments after I got home, I was joined by Elena, my chaperone for the evening.

The young blonde sat at my desk and pulled out her homework. As she read out the questions, I gave her the answers, part of the agreement that the five had negotiated with me, in exchange for keeping me out of prison. Once we were finished, we made small talk, which was uncomfortable due to the dynamic between us, and the fact that she required me to address her as Miss Elena.

We touched on several different subjects, the conversation dying quickly as it became apparent that we had next to nothing in common. However, when Elena asked me where Irene was for the evening, I inadvertently let it slip that they had gone in search of Laurent.

"Wow," she exclaimed, as her eyes lit up. "They have left it awfully late for a Saturday night. Laurent is probably balls-deep inside his next young victim already. I bet half the girls on campus are trying to drag him back to their dorms. When we hooked up the first time, I dragged him out of the library at 5pm. The early bird gets the worm with that guy."

My heart sank as I processed her response. Apparently, Laurent had his pick of the hot chicks on campus, and Elena seemed to have some first-hand knowledge of this man.

I didn't ask for any more details, but Elena, seemingly recalling one of the defining moments of her sexual life, started to tell me all about the encounter anyway. To hear her tell it, Laurent had fucked the crap out of her, bringing her to climax more times than she could remember. He had left early the next morning before she arose, and it was almost two months before she ran into him again.

"That asshole didn't even remember my name," she said spitefully. "We had anal sex and he didn't even have the decency to call me after, despite the fact that we exchanged phone numbers."

"What happened when you saw him after two months, Elena?" I asked, feigning interest.

"Miss Elena," she corrected me. "Don't forget your manners."

"Yes, Miss Elena," I said with as much deference as I could. "Did you guys hook up again, that night?"

"Well," she began wistfully, "I went to a frat party with him and we bumped into the twins. I don't blame them at all. Identical twins are an irresistible combination and Laurent is only human. He ended up leaving with Erica and Jessica, and he has been in an ongoing sexual relationship with them since. I hook up with him occasionally because I enjoy anal sex, and you know..."

"He is French?" I remarked, finishing her thoughts.

"Exactly," she said, smiling warmly at me for the first time since we first met.

Some time later, Elena got a text, and took great delight in sharing it with me.

"They found Laurent," she informed me, as if I should be happy with the news. "And he is not alone."

Well, the second part was good news. Laurent was a total stud and would apparently hook up with all the hot chicks on campus. Fortunately for me, if he had already found his victim for the night, Irene would be free to come home and share my bed. My relief was short-lived as Irene relayed the next text from Erica.

"Laurent is with some American guy who played professional Lacrosse in the United States," Elena said cheerfully. "They are heading this way in a few minutes. Erica asked me to tell you to get lost."

I wasn't at all happy with the new developments, but I ended up grabbing the keys to the Honda, so that I had somewhere to sleep. Right before I left, Elena stood in front of the full-length mirror that rested against my bedroom wall, to adjust her mini-skirt. As I admired her from behind, she looked over her shoulder at me, and slapped her own ass.

"Would you forget my name if you got to fuck this ass?" she asked seductively. "No, thought not. Laurent is an inconsiderate asshole."

As she turned away from me, I let my eyes wander down her toned legs, and noticed that from this angle in the mirror, I could see right under my bed. This gave me a great idea and as Elena and I walked out of my room, I waited about thirty seconds and then spoke.

"Oh crap, Miss Elena, I forgot my blankets. It was freezing in my car the last time I slept in it. See you at class on Monday."

After we said our goodbyes, I hurried back to my room. I crawled under my bed, checked out the position of the full-length mirror, came back out to make a final adjustment, and then using some blankets to conceal my position, lay there quietly.