Peer Pressure - Melissa

Melissa could hear him unzipping his fly. Rolling along the wall towards the occupied arm, she was able to break free. Suddenly the wall ended and she stumbled backwards a few steps into one of the rooms along the hallway. A quick glance revealed no other occupants, until her pursuer entered behind her.

"Geez, Lissa, chill out. It's not like everybody doesn't already know you're a slut or anything." He pushed the door most of the way closed without latching it. "But the bed *would* be more comfortable."

This wasn't working out the way she'd planned. "I am *not* a slut!" She'd accept that from Jacqui, but not from some... well, whatever. "I just want to take things a little slower, that's all."

An expression that might have been a smirk quickly crossed his face and was gone. "Oh baby, you're so hot I can't go slow. And I know you want it as bad as I do. It's gonna be a great night." He slowly fisted the cock protruding from his jeans, then unfastened them and let them drop to the floor.

With fading reluctance, Melissa tore her eyes from his organ and quickly shucked her own clothing. Hopefully the owner of the room wasn't going to return any time soon. Then the time for thought was past and she was falling backwards onto the bed, already arching herself to pull his throbbing phallus more deeply within her.

He rode her hard and furiously, almost painfully, but Melissa was pumping back against him just as urgently. Their mingled cries were only of pleasure, and Melissa realized how badly she'd missed fucking. Still, she was still approaching her own crest when she felt him shudder and spend himself in her.

Damn! It would have been worth the $50 if he could have held out... "No, don't stop now," she moaned.

The reply came from an unexpected direction. "Don't worry, babe, we won't."

Surprised, Melissa pushed her hair out of the way and looked up. The room seemed filled with men, most of them at least partially naked. Her erstwhile partner rolled off her and stood with the others, looking at her. She fought an urge to cover herself.

"Now wait a minute, guys," she began. True, this was starting to shape up like Halloween night had, and it was what she had wanted, but it didn't feel quite right. In fact...

"We owe you, Lissa." What? "Remember, I bet you that you'd have more fun than I would. Well, I can't afford to loose the money, so some of the guys offered to help me out. Go with the flow, babe!"

One of the men moved over her; Melissa didn't recognize him at all. She began to consider flight more seriously, but abruptly he forced himself on her. Not that much actual physical force was required to embed his throbbing penis into her creaming pussy.

This time, when she opened her mouth to protest, another cock plugged it. Angrily, the coed decided somebody was going to get a kick in the balls. Her mind stuttered to a halt when she realized her legs were already wrapped around her assailant's waist. Reflexively her body resumed its rocking motion.

+++

The humiliating part was that she continued to orgasm. They'd been working on her for a long time now, uncounted anonymous pricks that invaded her body and sprayed their juice in all of her holes. Enough semen remained to cover her exposed flesh, as well. And the scent in the air suggested at least some of the wetness was urine rather than spunk.

Melissa was very tired, and more than a little fearful by now. There was none of the tenderness she'd always sensed from Jacqui, just raw brutal sex. Even the lingerie party hadn't been like this. More than once she'd tried to make a break for the door, but weight and sheer numbers were always against her.

The pot smoke filling the room seared her lungs and raw throat. The occasional alcoholic refresher only worsened her thirst. It was nearly all she could think of, even as her asshole stretched to accommodate another large male member. She'd threatened to scream, *really* scream, when somebody offered her some cocaine "to make her feel better."

She slumped on the sodden bed, exhausted, when the man behind her withdrew. The teen had felt him come, hard, but nothing had jetted into her this time. Perhaps they were finally getting tired. At least most of them had left.

"That's cool, man! Have you got any more? That oughta get the slut juiced up again for sure!"

Something about the comment grated on Melissa and she summoned the energy to look in the direction of the speaker. She felt the adrenaline rush of pure terror at the sight of the hypodermic needle. "Get that fucking thing away from me!"

The sperm-drenched coed scrambled off the far side of the bed and awkwardly regained her feet. The hypo wielder advanced slowly on her. Melissa decided later her apparent calmness must have a sign of near-shock; she grabbed a metal ruler she hadn't consciously noticed from the desk behind her and lashed out at the hated instrument. The fragile device was smashed to the floor as the man screamed and clutched his slashed hand.

"Shit! Shit! Oh shit!" He didn't really seem to care about his bleeding fingers. "Bitch! You fucking bitch! You know how much that stuff costs?!"

Melissa continued to wave the ruler threateningly. "Not as much as your medical bills if you guys come any closer! Party's over. Get out of the room. *Now!* Or I'm calling security. And lock the door behind you!"

Amazingly, it seemed to work. When the door latched, she rushed forward and threw the deadbolt, they leaned heavily against the door as her legs turned rubbery. Suddenly she felt nauseous and scrambled for a nearby trash can; the tension, and alcohol and semen on a nearly empty stomach, left her heaving for several minutes. The cup of water Melissa allowed herself after rinsing her mouth tasted like sweet ambrosia.

She wanted to sleep, but the teen forced herself to locate her clothes and dress. She had to settle for wiping the worst of the gunk off herself with a discarded T-shirt; there was no way she was going back into that hallway to reach the bathroom. More than ever she appreciated the simplicity of the night's outfit. She found her purse, but somebody had taken the cash from it. Bastards.

The hallway... Melissa pondered, then decided a little tomboy behavior was in order. There had been no attempts on the door, so she unfastened the deadbolt -- the room's owner was going to be unhappy enough without having to break down the door to get in. Then she walked across the room, opened the window, and looked out.

Second floor. Easy drop, she told herself. Melissa tossed her pumps to the grass below, hiked her mini up to her waist to free her legs, and shimmied out the window. The sleeve of her blouse caught on something, and she cursed at the sound of the rip, but it was too late to do anything but drop and roll. A minute sufficed to restore her appearance to something vaguely approaching normality -- at least in the dark.

Whatever the hour was, it was late enough the campus was deserted, for which Melissa was grateful. She limped across the grounds, feeling the incipient aches throughout her body, and pulled herself up the two flights of stairs in Gridley.

A last unpleasant surprise awaited her. Melissa found herself on the verge of tears when she discovered someone had filled her keyhole with superglue. Damn it, she silently wailed to herself, why does this have to happen to me? She pondered the thought of calling Josh for assistance, but shrank from it. Likewise, there was no way she was going to stay out all night.

With extreme reluctance, she crossed to the door marked "301" that had once been hers, and knocked softly. After a second, louder, knock, the door opened and Rich peered out.

"Lissa? Are you all right?"

Melissa wished it were darker. "I'm fine. I, ah, forgot my room key. Can you let me in through your room?"

Rich's eyes flicked to her hand, which fisted tighter about the key in question, across the torn sleeve of her blouse, then back to her face. She'd never felt so low. Melissa knew she reeked of sex, surely he could smell it. God, if she broke down in front of him...

"Sure, no problem."

She made a determined beeline for the safety of her room.

"You're sure you're okay, Lissa? There's nothing wrong? You look kinda--"

"I'm fine, damnit! Just leave me alone!" Then she had one, and finally both, doors between them and could give in to the sobs that wracked her frame.

Jacqui had been right; she shouldn't have gone to the party. A little less luck, and she could have ended up like Janet. It was hard, so hard, being alone. But perhaps it was safer. She would, Melissa decided, watch her step very carefully from now on.

+++

Predictably, the public got a different spin on the story. Even Melissa couldn't help hearing about how she'd been so horny that she'd gone to the party and paid a bunch of guys to gang-bang her. There'd been no repercussions about the trashing of the room in Beckman, but Hell Suite was proudly displaying a grimy, stained sheet they called "The Shroud of Spermin'." The locker room joke was that any girl who lay on it would become as big a slut as Melissa Bednar.

Rich gave her a few strange looks during the following week, but she refused to talk with anyone about that night. As if anyone wanted to do something as mundane as talk to the Slut of Sullivan. Even Pamela was unable to drag Melissa out of her shell.

Chapter 19

This virtual stasis held until spring was far enough advanced for baseball season to begin. Melissa had grown accustomed to holding herself aloof from dorm affairs, but when she saw the sign-up sheet announcing the formation of a coed softball team for the dorm, she couldn't resist. It wasn't the same as real baseball, her favorite sport, but it would be close enough to be fun, even if she had to put up with the disdain of the other team members.

On the day of the first practice, Melissa rummaged in the bottom of her trunk until she located her Twins cap and her trusty glove. It still was tied tightly around a baseball and smelled pleasantly of saddle oil. Pleased to feel the well-broken-in leather was still supple, she unwrapped the glove and slid it onto her hand. The fit of cap was slightly strange when she tugged it into place, thanks to the missing ponytail, but Melissa adjusted it slightly and decided she was ready to go. The brunette bounced down the stairs and headed out to the field, feeling better than she had in a long time.

Melissa recognized the future members of her team tossing a ball around on one of the diamonds. She was surprised to see Rich among them; Melissa hadn't figured him for a sports fan, but he appeared to be holding his own. Not surprisingly, the girls were not well represented, although at least it looked like most of them could throw a ball half decently.

After positioning herself within range, Melissa called, "Hey, throw one over here!" and held up her glove. There was a pause; apparently she had been previously unnoticed and it was clear her arrival was unexpected. With a shrug at the others, one of the players lobbed the ball in her direction. Melissa deftly fielded the catch and returned the ball with a smooth, powerful throw that smacked loudly into the target glove back across the diamond. Pleased to see a few welcoming grins among the raised eyebrows, she settled into the game.

By the end of the practice Melissa had captured the position of shortstop. A few throws and some at-bats confirmed her suspicion that she was one of the better players on the team. She was relieved to see most of her teammates were glad to have her playing with them. As they were walking back to the dorm, Rich moved alongside to comment, "You're a pretty mean player, Lissa. Where'd you learn to throw like that, anyway?"

She laughed easily before replying, "I used to play all the time with my brothers when we were growing up. It must run in the family, we're all baseball fanatics, I just love it. I don't know how I'm going to survive the season without a TV, but at least this will alleviate some of the withdrawal pain."

Rich offered, "Yeah, I'm more of a watcher than a player, myself. I figure I'll spend a lot of time 'studying' in front of the television in the campus center." For a moment she thought he was finished, but her suitemate surprised Melissa with an invitation. "Hey, are you interested in joining a rotisserie league? A couple of us are putting one together this year."

Melissa had heard, vaguely, of them, but wasn't sure how exactly they worked or if she wanted to participate. The hesitation must have shown on her face, for he rushed to add, "Just come over Saturday night and check it out. That is, if you aren't doing anything. We'd be happy to have you."

When finally she nodded, Rich beamed, "Great, see you then. Look, I gotta run, talk to you later!" and trotted off. Melissa watched him go and wondered what she'd gotten herself into. Well, it looked like she'd finally get to attend one of his Saturday gaming sessions; it should be interesting, at the least.

+++

Actually, Melissa enjoyed that Saturday night immensely. Conversation was minimal as they waited for everyone to arrive and Rich introduced her to his friends. She and the others listened carefully as Ed and Mike explained the game for the benefit of the newcomers. Things loosened up considerably as they conducted their "draft" in conjunction with a spirited debate on the pros and cons of various favored players.

It was refreshing to have a hard-core baseball skull session with the guys and, as at softball practice, Melissa's obvious expertise and enthusiasm won over the others. Although no serious action could begin until the major league season started later in the year, Rich invited Melissa to join them again next week for some of their other games. The suggestion was seconded by the others.

Still a little nonconformist, Melissa decided as she prepared for bed, but it appeared she had a social life for the first time this semester. Of course, some of these guys probably hadn't even noticed she was a girl, but it was refreshing to have men treat her as something more than a brainless, breathing sex doll. She sighed; if only somebody would treat her as an intelligent, human sex doll. Well, one step at a time...

+++

The following Saturday found them gathered again in Rich's room. Both Melissa and Rich (so he said) were feeling a bit sore after the afternoon's first game. They'd lost, but it had been a narrow defeat. Rotisserie business was concluded quickly and they began preparations for the evening's gaming session.

Fascinated, Melissa tried to follow overlapping summaries from Ed and Dennis while an amazing number of books, papers, colored dice and tiny figurines were spilled onto the beds. Obviously much more went on than the verbal fencing she'd been accustomed to eavesdropping on.

It was weird, but by the end of the evening she'd decided she liked it. She still felt lost half the time, but there was something about the creativity and interaction that made the game much more exciting than just reading a book or watching a movie. The others had loosened up considerably after she'd taken in stride a visit to their base of operations, the combination restaurant and brothel she'd heard about.

Melissa, in the guise of her fighter "Minuet," had even slain her first orc. She thought about it again, looking at the delicately painted lead figure with hair dark like her own (before she'd had it cut). The tiny sword held in its grip reminded her of the metal ruler she'd wielded in Hell Suite, an intriguing echo of reality. But here an imaginary sword would suffice to defend her; she was among friends. 'Friend,' rather; it was after midnight and the others had already left.

She realized Rich was talking to her. "What?"

"I said, 'you should do that more often.'"

"Do what?" Apparently she'd spent more time than she'd thought reminiscing.

He met her glance, hastily dropped his eyes to the papers he was sorting, and cautiously looked up again. "Smile." Rich tried a grin. "I've been here over half a semester, and except for today and last Saturday I've never seen you smile, Lissa. It's too bad; I'd like to see more of it. Our company must agree with you."

Inwardly the coed cringed. Was he hitting on her? She realized that subconsciously she'd believed his earlier disclaimers. Did Rich want Lissa, or the Slut, or was he just making conversation? The Slut was definitely *not* available, but Lissa didn't want to damage a new friendship unnecessarily.

"Um, thanks, Rich." Something in her tone must have been off, because she could see him flinch. "I've gotta hit the sack now, I'm bushed." She set her figure beside the others and rose.

Rich stood as well. "Sure, it is kinda late." His hands drifted for a moment before he shoved them into his pockets. "We all enjoyed having you over. I hope you'll be able to make it again next week."

God, she didn't want to leave him like this, it reminded her too much of herself, well, before. There must be something upbeat but noncommittal she could say... "Sure. See you tomorrow at brunch?"

Melissa wanted to kick herself even before she finished saying it, but that goofy grin was back on Rich's face. It looked like she was committed, and it was only a meal in the cafeteria. Still, what had she been thinking of?

The question stayed with her until she fell asleep.

+++

That brunch was the first of a great many meetings Melissa and Rich had throughout the following weeks. He was a gentleman, never hinting he wanted more than just her company, ignoring subtle and not-so-subtle jeers from some of the other students.

Gradually the wary brunette relaxed again, and found she enjoyed his presence. He had a quick mind and a quirky sense of humor, and seemed to enjoy startling her into laughter. In revenge, she took to trying the same with him, although it was difficult to surprise more than that lopsided grin onto his face.

They shared the softball games and practices, and the Saturday gaming sessions. The occasional meal together expanded to nearly every meal, and Melissa no longer had to eat alone when her schedule didn't match Pam's. The pair became a regular sight in the dorm lounge whenever a game was on the TV, often intermixing comments on the game and their current CS projects. Rich joined the girls on the jogging circuit, once, before declaring he wasn't ready to die before his time.

Rich even became the first man to enter the sanctuary of her room since Christmas break, although he was especially circumspect there. He avoided the queen bed as if it were a vat of sucking quicksand. Melissa finally had to pull over the chair from the unused desk so they could study the coursework at her desk, seated side by side.

That evening, as she smirked at her mental picture of Rich helplessly disappearing into the depths of the bed, Melissa finally admitted to herself that she *wanted* him in that bed -- with her. The worst part was that she had absolutely no idea how to go about accomplishing it.

It wasn't clear he'd *ever* get around to making a move on his own; maybe that was her fault. The only approach she had any experience with called for stripping and cornering him in his room, then getting to it, hot and heavy. But that definitely wasn't Rich's style. Moreover, Melissa didn't want to live down to the images he must still have of her from after the party and that first day in the bathroom. Maybe he'd be repulsed by The Slut.

She began taking more care with her wardrobe again, even for the Saturday night sessions, but couldn't think of a way to let Rich know it was for him. Melissa was at her wit's end as spring break approached.

+++

Her eyes were starting to cross as Melissa struggled through the relativity chapter for a second time. She greeted the staccato knock that was Rich's signature with a sense of relief and rolled away from the confounded book with a sigh.