Needing It More Than She Thought

Stacy stepped into the room and thought:

Damn, the guy is still here and Natalie has him in her room.

She knew how lucky they were that they were able to snag this dorm room, something this size in a very crowded and in-demand building for university housing. Not that it was a New York condo, but it had a nice little living room area that could fit a loveseat, a small recliner and an end table, all which pointed to the TV on the wall. The kitchen and bathrooms were out in the public area, but this dorm had two nice ten-by-ten bedrooms, each one with a bunk bed on the wall. The dorm room could sleep four, but somehow, in some stroke of luck or misplaced slip of paper, it was just Stacy and Natalie in this room.

And, apparently, now David as well.

David was a frequent visitor and, earlier this evening, he gotten Natalie's invitation to bring a friend so that they could all watch something on HBO Max. Honestly, Stacy didn't give a crap about the show, much less feel like entertaining. She was a chapter behind in the Sociological Causes of the American Civil War. She didn't give much of a crap about that, either, but her parents were paying good money for that moment in another year when she could stand on stage with a cap and gown, holding a little paper in her hands that erroneously told her that she did give a crap about it.

So David brought in this friend of his, Jake, who was cute, yes, but Stacy was in a mood. If this was her friends' idea of fixing her up with someone, the intended result was lost.

Stacy couldn't help but to be a little mad at Natalie.

They watched the show for a little bit...too much T and A for Stacy's liking when sitting with people, one of whom she didn't know...and besides that, it was too much for four people in a small room, especially when the room got quiet in the crossed-over-the-line-of-steaminess moments. Stacy's eyes kept moving to that text book sitting on the little shelf by the door and the only thing going through her mind was Shit, I've got to get out of here before they start a three-way.

She excused herself quietly, got up off the chair, stepped barefoot to the door, slipped on her flip-flops, pulled her light brown hair into a ponytail, grabbed the book and stepped out into the hallway.

It was, thankfully, so much cooler out here, the air-conditioned breeze cascading along her bare legs and refreshing her shoulders. She was glad she was wearing a bra under her tee shirt, otherwise she'd be giving a show and that was definitely not her style.

She stopped in the cafeteria down in the main level lobby, grabbed a half of a tuna sandwich and an iced tea, found a small table against the window and settled into her favorite study habit; eating while reading.

She was a trim girl, maybe a little rounded in the hips, but it was under control as she did spend a half-hour daily on a treadmill in the campus gym. She wasn't flashy at all, though Natalie insisted that Stacy was one of the prettiest girls in the building. Stacy herself didn't believe that, but she was well-enough confident in herself that she could get by with a minimal of makeup, with blue eyes, dark brown eyelashes and a small pouting mouth that could also beam a knee-melting smile (so said Natalie).

Her breasts were round but firm. Jeff, her old high school boyfriend, had loved them, though he had only seen them out of her bra one time. And oh what a memory that is, Stacy often ruminated. It was during an aborted attempt at heavy-duty hanky panky in his parents' basement one night towards the end of junior year. His parents were gone...supposedly...and she and the basketball jock got it going on the couch down there. They were in bathing suits after an early evening swim when the making out began and before she knew it, she was slipping the bikini bottom off. She was lying back on the couch, he was on top of her, tossing his wet suit to the floor. He had spit on his cock and slipped it through her vagina lips; though it was the first time she ever had one inside her, it didn't hurt at all because she was quite used to using a hairbrush handle in the secret hours in her room.

At his request, she pulled the bikini top up to her neck, baring her breasts, her pink nipples very pronounced. He muttered some breathy compliment about them, not even looking into her eyes, which is what she wanted more than anything. A kiss, an "I love you", anything, but no, his eyes were on those jiggling lobes.

He was on his fifth deep thrust when they heard his mom calling from upstairs at the rear of the house.

"Jeff-reeeeeeeey! We asked you to take out the garbage before we left!"

Panic overtook them and he pulled out, grunting an answer to her call, promising he would take care of this major infraction of the rules, while at the same time erupting all over Stacy's belly. That first rope landed in between those tits that had so caught his attention.

At least he pulled out, Stacy constantly reminded herself, always thanking the Master of Luck. She'd heard similar stories before, many times with the guy shooting inside the girl and leaving a little souvenir.

They got out of the situation undetected, but it was the last she and the boy had even gotten close to intimacy. Now he was in California, she was in Illinois and that romance was now only the stuff of funny stories. Which she never told.

And Stacy kept that kind of intimacy away, with anyone, for the rest of high school and her first couple of years of college. Yes, there was the one night when she and Natalie had a little too much wine and the dark-haired girl made a few passes. She and Stacy got as far as cuddling together naked on the loveseat and they masturbated each other into deep, thrilling orgasms. Stacy had never considered herself gay or bi, but that episode was well worth the curious exploration that night.

She was iffy on any kind of a relationship and her parents expected good grades since they were flipping the bill on this education. They questioned the background of her roommate, even before the encounter. And the daily calls. They even figured out what Facetime was.

Moving into a dorm did not exactly equate independent living, or the escape that she had for so often hoped.

It was for that reason that she stopped any of those feelings before they really took root. Study. No partying. Education. No guys. Your future.

That was, she admitted, the reason she left the room when she did, especially with that movie on and, yeah, Jake looking kind of cute. She had felt that stirring in her loins, clamped her knees together, went and grabbed that book and spent the next ninety minutes down in the cafeteria, wiping all such nonsense out of her mind as she read of Jefferson Davis and John Brown and Abraham Lincoln.

Now stepping quietly back into the room, she had come upon the empty living area. Jake was gone, for sure, but David's hat and shoes were still on the floor. Natalie's bedroom door was shut, something that never happened, unless. . .

Stacy always tried to stay away while Natalie and David were, um, working off the stresses of a higher education, but tonight, she was too fucking tired. Nor did she want to intrude on them. The less that they knew she was there, the better. She padded barefoot to her own door, opened it quietly, shut it even more quietly, and crawled immediately into her lower bunk in the dark. She did not even want them to see any light spilling out from under her door.

The room was cool. The air-conditioning really didn't work too well in this room, but she had cracked the window earlier and the unseasonable eighty-five degree April day had given way to a cool night in the upper sixties. She plumped up her pillow, peeled off her shorts and lay in her panties and tee shirt, pulling the light top sheet to her neck. She chastised herself for leaving her phone and ear buds in the other room. That was her usual method of getting to sleep; jumping onto YouTube and dialing up an uninterrupted stream of new age/yoga music to play quietly in her head. It never took her long to drift off.

Not tonight.

She was without the music and she felt like a smoker who had been without a cigarette for two hours.

Instead, though, there was another sound.

It came to her quietly, drifting into her consciousness, seeping in like the scent of a candle.

A steady squeaking coming from the other side of the wall.

The two bedrooms, again, no bigger than ten foot square, were built in the mirror images of each other. This meant that Natalie's bed shared the same wall as Stacy's. The wall between them wasn't much, but it never really mattered because their schedules were so different. And even if they were sleeping at the same time, that's all they were doing.

Except tonight, apparently.

This became very clear when Stacy began hearing Natalie's soft moans creep in alongside the sound of the creaking bed.

And the words that confirmed what was happening:

"Oh fuck, baby, ohh David, baby, I love how you fuck me. . ."

Stacy sighed.

This is not going to put me to sleep.

She felt trapped. She dare not knock on the wall, nor did she want to make any movement at all that would let them know that she was home, awake and listening.

"Ohhhh, slap my ass, baby. . " which was followed by a sharp smack that told Stacy that David had obeyed the instruction, followed by a loud moan that told her that Natalie had approved.

Stacy tried to shut her eyes and tune it out, though that soft, passionate soundtrack was filling her ears and her mind; so much so, that it was a few minutes before she even realized that her hand had slipped under the elastic of her panties.

Her pussy was trimmed, well groomed. And very wet, as was the thin strip of fabric between her legs.

David was moaning and grunting now, and though she was not necessarily attracted to him, she found her fingers slipping inside her wet lips, thrusting in time to the rhythm of the moans that she heard, not so well muffled on the other side of the wall. Her vagina was tight around her fingers and she slipped her panties off with her free hand. She could feel her juice dripping down the crack of her ass and soaking the sheets. She reached under her tee shirt, finding her nipples tightly pressed against the white bra as they struggled towards hardness.

God damn it, she thought, pulling the tee shirt off and tossing it to the ground, along with the bra a few seconds later.

Again, Natalie's voice:

"Fuck, baby, you're gonna make me cum again...oh David, I just love what you do with your cock. . ."

Stacy's left nipple was hard in her left palm, those fingers now wet with her spit as her right hand continued to play at her dripping clit. Her legs were wide open and she pulled her knees up close to her chest, allowing her index and middle fingers to slip in deeper. She knew just how to curl those fingers and rub against the roof of that cavern, up again her pelvis, catching that patch of extremely sensitive tissue that drove her wild. More than once in her life, she had found the exact method of massaging one moment, followed by a quick pullout of her fingers, which would bring a flood of spray raining down on the sheet between her legs. She had discovered that, first with her fingers, then with the hairbrush, which was, likewise, sitting in her purse in the other room.

Natalie's moans were now coming in perfect unison with the sounds of the squeaky bed, with his grunts coming in perfect harmony. Stacy's mind was swimming in this sexual euphoria, grinding her soaked crotch relentless against her hand.

Her lips were sore from biting on them and she could not help but to part them and exhale deeply, letting a moan slip through as her pussy begged for the relief that was slow in coming from her fingers.

This was rarely a problem, she masturbated quite often and knew exactly what she needed, that perfect combination of insertion and nipple squeezing and tummy caressing, all with her eyes closed and her mind wrapped around whatever image she had playing in her imagination. She rarely got off to porn. She tried it a few times, it was okay, but her biggest, toe-curling orgasms came when her full concentration was on what her fingers were doing in sync with whatever the fantasy guy in her mind was doing to her.

Keep it the fantasy guy, it can't be anyone else, no, it can't. . .

But she gave that up and, yes, she was imagining that she was riding Jake's face while bent over and taking his cock in and out of her mouth. No, she didn't know what it looked like, how big he was, or anything like that. She had only visited the guy for like twenty minutes and he looked as uncomfortable with the T and A on the screen just as much as she was.

But now, reason had left, and the very thought of fucking him, accompanied by the lustful exhortations from the other side of the wall was driving her crazy.

"Should I leave?"

His voice came from her right side in the darkness of the room, a shadow against the open window.

"Shit!" she cried, startled.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . ." Jake offered, backing away. "They invited me to stay overnight and offered me the use of the upper bunk."

Then wouldn't it have made more sense to have the guys share one room and the girls the other and ----.

Nope, not in the current situation.

"How long have you been here?" she asked.

"For like half an hour. They left you a note."

It had all happened so fast, Stacy had quite forgotten that her fingers were still deep inside her, though her knees were pressed together in a futile attempt at modesty.

"I didn't see it," she replied.

"I was up there, kind of snoozing, and...yeah...I heard them." He chuckled, trying to break up the embarrassing encounter. "And then I heard you and I slipped down. "

Stacy didn't know what to say in all his confusion. Although lit only by the faint streams of light coming through the window, she knew she must be a sight. Naked in front of his guy, probably glistening with the sweat that she had worked up.

He was in boxers only, and, though he wasn't obvious about it, his bulge was prominent.

"This is so embarrassing," she laughed quietly, running her hands over her face as if to hide her blushing.

"It doesn't need to be," he replied. "You look wonderful."

"Well, thank you, Jake from State Farm."

"I'll leave. I really, really sorry, Stacy."

It came without even a thought.

"Don't."

She could see a smile on his face, dim as it was in the room. He dropped to his knees at the side of the bed. "I was hoping you would say that."

"Really?" she whispered sarcastically.

"I normally don't intrude, and I know that you really weren't into having company," he whispered back. "But just now, listening to you was hot."

"Me? Not them?"

Interestingly, they must have finished next door. David must have delivered his package and now they were dozing, not four or five feet away from them.

"You, Stacy. That was hot."

He said it as be brought his left hand to her right leg, softly prying it away from where she had it locked to its companion.

Her legs were open and her sopping wet vagina was displayed to him. He moved his hand down to her foot, bringing it to his mouth, her toes slipping between his thirsty lips. This, she thought, was incredibly erotic and she began tweaking her nipple again. Seeing this, he brought his free hand up to cup her breast, his soft fingers closing in on that nipple.

Then his mouth was moving up the inside of her legs, kissing her inner thighs and she almost moaned louder than Natalie when his lips fell up on her heated pussy, cooling it and yet sending a new charge of heat through her body. His tongue made slow work of tasting her pussylips, sweet with her juices. She grinded into his face when his lips fell on her clit and began sucking.

Ohhhh this is fucking incredible. . .

Her hand went to his dark hair and pushed his head forward as she spread her legs to their widest. Back in the day, the basketball boy had never tried to eat her out, he went right for the poke. But this. Sparks of ecstasy spilled upwards through her body, growing in intensity when she felt two long fingers slip effortlessly inside her. She was used to having her own fingers working at her, but this was. . .ohh my God this so much better. . .

His fingers knew exactly where to touch, where to rub, and how fast. Out of nowhere, his ring finger was rubbing the wet rim of her ass. She breathed in quickly.

He lifted his head, his mouth glistening.

"Yes?"

"Please . . ."

His mouth went back to that bud at the top of her pussy, his fingers continuing their deep massage, wrapped tightly by those slick walls that were getting tighter and tighter, a sure sign that she was about to --

His finger slid effortlessly into her asshole and she saw stars. Yes, she knew how to tease it when she was masturbating, but now to have that long hard finger gently gliding deeper and deeper.

I won't be loud, oh fuck, I won't be loud. .

As if he had read her mind, his lips were on hers as she came, her contracting vaginal walls gripping his fingers as if they were trying to pull them in further. Her tongue was in his mouth and she was able to break that moan into impassioned breaths of release as the orgasm reached its zenith, the top of the hill, before enveloping her carefully and letting her slide slowly down into the valley of rest and total relaxation.

He was still kissing her and she boldly moved her hand to the elastic of his boxers, pulling them down to his knees, which were still on the floor as he knelt by her side. Her palm caressed his hip, the curve of his hard ass, then making a trail back to his front. Her probing fingers found his balls, shaved, and cupped them for a moment before sliding up to grasp the base of his hard cock. She relaxed the grip as she stroked his thick, throbbing erection with a gentle touch.

She leaned over, still holding it and kissed its swollen tip. Her lips slid over the top and took it in her mouth like the sweetest popsicle she had ever tasted. She worked his balls as she sucked, taking it out of her mouth only to run her tongue up and down that quivering warm, wet muscle.

Her hands were then on his shoulders, pushing him.

"Did I do something wrong, Stacy?"

"No," she replied, swinging her bare feet onto the carpet. "Get on the floor, I don't want them to hear us."

Their mouths locked, he eased backwards, laying on the floor. She saw that his eyes never left hers as she crawled on top of him. She felt his hands again on her breasts and he knew how to rub his thumb on the sides of and over those nipples.

Hands on my tits, but his eyes are on mine. That's hot.

Those same hands moved down to caress the round, soft curves of her cheeks before moving down across her hips and onto her legs. She reached for his cock, rock hard and throbbing with excited lust. Stacy felt a new thrill as she pressed it to her clit, finding that her pussy was still in need. Her knees on the carpet, she adjusted herself to a better way to straddle him. His cocktip slipped inside her, effortlessly. She eased down on him, that smooth thick hard muscle reaching higher inside her than any hairbrush had ever been able to reach.

She rode him hard, and as she did, he was thrusting back, his ass lifting off the carpet to meet her thrusts. Her hands were on his chest, her fingers matching the teasing on his nipples that he was doing to hers. Then her mouth was on him again, leaning forward and rocking deliriously back and forth, taking that pounding dick as he hammered away, looking into his eyes and realizing that she had never known how much she needed this.