Prank War

byPuckIt©

Literotica 2018 April Fools Day Contest entry.

Votes would be especially welcomed by all authors competing as it takes so many just to be eligible, much less win.

All on-screen sexual encounters in the following (when they finally do occur) are between consenting adults over the age of eighteen.

*****

As a college junior, I had the poor taste to fall in love with a pair of lesbians. Well, what horny, red-blooded, all-American, college-aged, heterosexual guy doesn't?

Except, the problem was, it wasn't just lust.

I don't know. Maybe it was at first...

After "wasting" my junior high and high school years with a girl who accepted a dinky little ring graduation night, only to return it before climbing on the back of a motorcycle between a musician and his guitar case headed west just a month and a half later, I should have learned my lesson. But, I didn't.

I met Wendy just before my college experience should have kicked off. I mean, the classes began right on cue. But, the whole "party hard and fuck anything wet, willing, and able" just didn't pan out since I had bounced from Lori to Wendy a month later.

Although, Wendy was plenty wet, willing, and able by herself. At least at first.

After dating for our entire freshman year, we moved in together our sophomore year in a little dinky efficiency just off campus. And I pulled that same dinky ring out of my sock drawer to offer her at Christmas. She lasted a little longer than Lori, five months as opposed to Lori's month and a half.

But, she dropped not only the class she had talked me into taking with her but out of college completely to join the Peace Corps. And mailed my ring back to me.

Peace Corps? Maybe it was Greenpeace. Peace something or whatever peace anyway. Whether she was off in the jungle being gangbanged by a tribe of aborigines or off in the ocean milking sperm whales or just whatever the fuck didn't really matter to me. She was gone and I was on my own.

And I was determined that this time I had learned my fucking lesson and would spend some time just exploring the rumors of that wild college experience everyone always brags about once I climbed back out of the alcohol flavored abyss I swan dove into that summer.

And I thought I'd spotted my first choice of a target when she darted into the class I'd been supposed to take with Wendy five minutes late, wearing a lycra sports bra and bike shorts combination. With her dark hair up in a ponytail and beads of sweat dotting her exposed skin, including the single best-defined set of abs I still have yet to see, she had obviously come straight from a workout.

There were only a few flaws that kept the vision from being perfect. I didn't too much mind that she was a good half a foot shorter than me at five feet if she was even that tall. Nor did it bother me that she was roughly half of my own stockily muscled one hundred eighty pounds.

But, she had little, barely there, probably B-cup, breasts and I tended to prefer a woman we had to worry about one or the other of us getting a black eye when she rode me "cowgirl." Also, she had these sparse, dark, baby fine hairs dotting her arms and upper lip. Not that I had a lot of room to talk with my own thick brown pelt, but I tended to think a woman should be hairless except the mane on her crown, her eyebrows, and her crotch, or at least appear to be.

Still and all, I gave her a healthy eight-point-nine on my personal doability scale. She might have broken a nine if the "smile" she gave me when I pulled my left foot out of the desk in front of me, the one Wendy probably would have sat in, to allow her to take a seat hadn't been a bare twitch of the lips, hardly worth the name.

The blonde bow-bitch with Greek letters stamped across tits her step-daddy probably bought her next to me noticed the petite brunette beauty when she walked in as well. Although, it was a bit hard to know if it was lust or hatred that she'd just become the second best looking girl in the class that prompted her to snap off two of her fake nails clawing the desk when Donna walked in.

The "instructor" for the "class" was a graduate student Teaching Assistant and one of those enamored of the whole cooperative learning "group think" ideal. Which just pissed me off.

What the fuck is so wrong with just covering the material and letting the best man win?

I don't know. Maybe if I hadn't been so annoyed at yet another ridiculous group project where my grade would depend on the efforts of the others involved, I might have been just a little (or more than a little) pleased at the idea that I might be in a group with this stunning brunette. And get a chance to get to know her better.

Like, maybe, the size, color, and shape of her nipples. Whether the carpet matched the drapes or if she had gone for the "hardwood floors" look.

But, I loathed group work. And even the idea of being in a group with Donna didn't phase me as I glared at the TA that had inflicted it on us. For sixty fucking percent of our semester grade, no less.

The guy in front of the bow-bitch to my right was probably forty if he was a day, and I could smell the colitas wafting off him from where I sat. As soon as the instructor shut up about the group stink that was being perpetrated, Mickey turned and gathered Donna, me, and the bow-bitch by eye and half-asked, half-stated that we would be a group.

I didn't give a shit and shrugged that I was fine with it. Donna was a bit slower and peered at the three of us, me a bit longer, without agreeing or disagreeing before a big bruiser managed to plow his way to her.

I'd sort of been aware of the big, thick-necked defensive tackle for the football team and a couple of his teammates on the other side of the classroom. And, I'd certainly been aware that at the same time Mickey turned and asked/told us we would be a group, Beevo had stood up and started plowing his way through the desks rather than walking around them like a sane and rational person might.

And, I'd been pretty sure Donna was his target, although I didn't yet know her name.

"We want you to be in our group," he stated as he stood there with his arms folded across his chest to make his biceps bulge even bigger than they were, obviously talking to Donna.

"Uh, thanks," Donna said with that same thin-lipped smile she'd given me when I cleared her seat of my foot. "But, I've already got a group."

Naturally, Beevo tore his eyes away from Donna to give Mickey a bare glance and then stare me down. I was dimly aware of Mickey and Donna both glancing at me as I shifted and locked eyes with the big man on campus and collegiate football star and wondered just how this was going to go.

The large chested blonde bimbette chose to stand up and push her bubble tit against his bicep.

"Actually, I think I would like to be in your group," she said.

His eyes ticked away from mine to her, just enough to break the deadlock. But, it wasn't her eyes he was looking at. Nor was it Donna's eyes he looked at when he gave her one last final glance before agreeing and leading the bubble-chested, bubble-brained blonde back to his friends who had Cheshire grins plastered all over their faces.

I remember shaking my head and thinking if that wasn't a gangbang in the making, then I didn't know what one looked like.

"I'll be your fourth," a voice said from behind my right shoulder.

I glanced back and up to see a redhead wearing a hemp woven shirt and more hemp jewelry than I could shake a match at. And, she obviously wasn't looking at either Donna or myself.

My eyes crossed Donna's and our eyes shared a smile that never reached our lips.

It turned out that Marni was a "professional student" in addition to flower-child and working on her third bachelor's degree. Mickey was a semi-retired postal worker (which I suspect is code for couldn't pass the drug test) finally using his old unused G.I. Bill after his marriage foundered in the wake of his leaving the U.S. Postal Service. And, yes. The two of them hit it off like a bong and a lit match.

Donna was a pleasant surprise, and I think I was for her as well. Both of us were used to carrying groups that would have been content with a C and ecstatic for a B as we pushed on for an A. And I think both of us were relieved to have someone else in the trench with us while our other two group members were a tad more interested in sharing a toke and a poke on their incessant munchy runs once the minimum was done.

Donna and I also complemented each other well. I am something of a speed reader and have a borderline eidetic memory, but tend to get bored and become a little fragmented and tangential and it's an effort to make myself focus down and give projects a professional polish instead of adding more. Donna, on the other hand, is profoundly dyslexic, a bit worse with numbers than words, and is the poster child for laser focus and determination. She has had to be since, for whatever reason, she'd determined she wanted to be a newspaper journalist.

And, yes, my mind still boggles at just how someone who knows they are profoundly dyslexic would be so determined to make a career of reading and writing. And, I confess I've always been just a little in awe of her unwavering determination since I switched majors four times when I got bored with what I was studying.

But, for our project that Fall semester, I was pretty much the research grunt, taking some of the pressure off of Donna to spend so much time in the stacks in the library. And she held my leash to keep me from including more than we really needed to pull our project up to a solid A.

That was how I met Leah, Donna's "roommate." Although it took me a little bit to piece together just what relationship "roommate" was a euphemism for.

I was dropping off a stack of copies from a research session at Donna's apartment and a girl who was definitely not Donna opened the door.

Donna who?

The girl standing in the doorway was a cornfed country girl a good couple or three inches taller than Donna, with a good thirty or forty more pounds distributed in all the best ways, with sandy blonde hair and a squared body beneath a long-sleeved flannel and jeans that was both obviously female and just as obviously strong.

"Uh," I managed intelligently as I tore my eyes away from her to peer at the number on the door and stepped back a half step to double check the doors on either side. "I was looking for Donna."

"Ah. So, you must be Ben, then."

"Um, yes," I managed, smiling that this lovely knew my name. "I'm sorry, but if Donna has mentioned her beautiful friend, I don't recall."

She snorted, and her eyes sparkled, but the corners of her mouth didn't so much as twitch.

"I'm Leah," she introduced herself. "Donna's roommate. If you have something to drop off, I can take it and make sure she gets it."

I would much rather have waited to hand the packet to Donna myself. Not least so that I would have a little time with Leah. But, something in her manner told me that wouldn't be welcomed.

It took four weeks of seeing both of them and flirting with both of them before they finally applied a brick to the side of my head as gently as they could manage. Which was more than a bit strange for all of us as I was the first person outside of their lesbian acquaintances they had purposefully come out to more than just a passing comment to a guy they were trying to play off his coming on to them. A comment that could have been played off as a joke if push came to shove.

Once it penetrated that they actually weren't joking with me, I toned down the flirting and began looking elsewhere for some female companionship. Unsuccessfully, but I didn't want to be one of those assholes who pushes, certain that the female in question only needs his masculine fabulousness to persuade her that her lesbianism is just a phase.

Although I admit, I did spend many a hot sweaty winter night beneath my sheets, alone, as I imagined just how those two might be warming themselves as the weather chilled.

Our semester wrapped up, we got an A on our project (and the course), and that should have been that. Donna and Leah should have faded over my event horizon just as Mickey and Marni did.

Even being invited to stop by and have a few drinks with them to celebrate our successful project shouldn't have been a big deal. After all, I'd been to their place more than a few times in the final stages.

However...

However, my sense of humor decided that it would be the perfect set-up to fuck with Leah a little bit in response to her constant harping anytime I'd had to borrow their restroom while I was there.

As time wore on that evening, and more than a few drinks were imbibed on all sides, I waited patiently for just the right moment. Finally, Donna excused herself to be rid of the alcohol she'd taken in to make room for more.

When she returned, I was on my feet almost before she regained her seat. To the usual jeers from Leah, and less ribald comments from Donna.

In their bathroom, I did make use of the facilities. But, I also unwrapped the layers of Saran Wrap around my thigh and carefully molded it to the rim of the toilet bowl, completely covering it, before folding the seat and lid down and cutting away the excess hanging out with my pocket knife.

After washing my hands, I took one last look to make sure it wasn't too obvious what I'd done from the door before rejoining the party.

Intent on proving that she could handle her alcohol better than any mere man, Leah took so long that I was about half afraid that I would catch Donna with my prank instead of Leah.

But, eventually, Leah stood up and began making her way to the bathroom.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, I also stood and began making my goodbyes to Donna and edging toward the front door.

Apparently, despite giving me flak about not sprinkling on the seat, Leah must not have checked too carefully when she went in after me because a shriek followed by a string of obscenities was all the proof I needed that my trap had worked.

And it was time for me to get the fuck out of there.

With one last goodbye to Donna, who had been clued in that something had happened if not just what and started to smile, I fled down the stairs, two at a time, and made my way to my car at a jog.

As I was pulling away, I glanced up to see Leah in the doorway, giving me a single finger salute, her other hand, I imagined, being busy keeping her pants up. I honked and waved and cackled all the way out of their parking lot.

I was still smiling when I arrived at the little roach motel I'd continued to live in when Wendy decided to follow the winds.

The phone was ringing inside. I answered it.

"Oh, my God," Donna laughed in my ear. "You have no idea just what you've started."

I would have answered, but she handed their phone to Leah.

"Oh, yes," Leah said, obviously trying to keep from laughing herself. "You have just no idea what you've just started, Ben. I may rest from time to time, and I may pause to eat. But, I will not falter, nor will I be swayed from my vengeance, until I've paid you back threefold."

Unlike Donna, Leah hadn't had the patience for the whole college ordeal, choosing instead to work blue collar odd jobs. So, to hear her waxing so eloquent in that West Texas country twang just made me laugh all the harder. While I was trying to get my breath back to actually respond, Leah handed the phone back to Donna.

"You are in so much trouble, mister," Donna said. "Have a good holiday. And make sure to rest up while we are on break. Because I assure you, you aren't going to get much when we get back. She takes her pranks seriously. Oh, and Ben?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," Donna said softly before she hung up.

I considered calling her back, at the least to wish them a happy holiday as well. But, I'd done that as I left their home. And I was just pleased to have our brief acquaintanceship end on such a positive note.

I was as certain as I could be that I'd seen the last of Donna and Leah that I ever would. And although I would miss them, a part of me was just as glad our relationship with each other was over since they had made it very obvious that sex was never, ever going to be an option.

Still, I liked them a whole lot better than most people I knew and I was a bit wistful that we'd never have the chance to become better friends.

I was disabused of that notion once college was back in session on my first evening back at the dojo where I studied TaeKwonDo and Hapkido. After a good sparring session, I walked out to my car to find it had been completely shrink-wrapped and the words "Welcome back, Sweetie" drizzled on the shrink-wrapped windshield in honey.

I had no idea how they had found me. But, as soon as I saw it, I had a pretty good idea who had done it. Good enough that the only question left was if Leah had acted alone or if I would need to include Donna in my retribution.

Tom, the owner-instructor, was enough of a friend that he didn't insist on calling the police, but did allow me to watch the footage from his security camera. And, Donna was a full participant tossing the roll of shrink wrap over the top of my car to her only slightly taller lover and then bending down to catch it as Leah rolled it underneath.

I considered myself well repaid for my own prank.

And, it gave me a warm feeling that they thought enough of me to go to so much trouble. First finding me rather than letting me quietly disappear from their lives, and then the actual effort involved in shrink-wrapping the car.

And, too, there was the message smeared on the shrink wrap in honey that I was really trying hard not to read too much into.

But, above all, there was a deep-seated moral imperative not to let things stand as they were. I would pay them both back. I wasn't sure just how. But, some things just have to be done.

Our friendship burgeoned and grew over the spring semester as we would pull pranks on each other and then laugh with each other, first over the phone but then sitting in their living room over a few beers.

I think, though, my favorite of their pranks on me from those college days was when they invited me to meet them at their favorite bar. Which in retrospect I should have suspected would be a lesbian hangout.

When I walked in, a rather tall and muscular woman with one side of her head shaved, stuck her arm out in front of me to bar my entrance.

"I think you're in the wrong place, sugar britches!"

At her loud call, everyone stopped whatever they were doing and turned to stare at me. Even the music playing stopped.

And as I looked around, I realized that every single face turned my way was female.

Just as I was about to tuck tail and slink away, I heard a familiar raucous laugh.

"Damn it, Leah!" I yelled grinning. "I am so going to pay you back for this! And you too, Donna!"

"I didn't have shit to do with this!" Donna yelled back, laughing with her lover now that jig was up.

"Oh, yes she did," the gal behind the bar called.

"Hey!" Donna yelled as the rest of the room burst out into laughter.

Not everyone was quite so welcoming, no. But, enough were, once I accepted the beer the owner and bartender served me on the house, that I eventually became almost as much of a fixture as Donna and Leah over that summer and the following fall.

And, damn if quite a few of them didn't feed in with those two pulling pranks on me!

I was a little more cautious with the others. Donna and Leah bore the brunt of my return fire despite their usual protests that they didn't always have anything to do with the shenanigans I fell into.

I didn't have much luck with finding a woman who was wet, willing, and able with me. Which only makes sense since I was hanging out with women who liked women about as much as I did. And found about as much pleasing about men as I did as well.

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