The Bully Pt. 02

"I can't believe I drove all the way up here to see that selfish prick," she whispered, as John and his new girlfriend disappeared arm in arm. "I am done with that asshole."

While those words were music to my ears, I hated seeing Lela so upset, and I asked her if she wanted to get a drink. Like a lot of college students, by this time I had a passable fake ID, and we went to a liquor store and bought some beer. The two of us walked down to a secluded spot in the park, found an empty bench, and sat quietly drinking our beers. As the afternoon turned into the evening, I could see that Lela was getting cold, so I offered to walk her back to the dorms.

"I will put on a pot of coffee," I told her. "You can get warm, and sober up before you make the long drive home."

Lela put her arm through mine as we walked back to my room, and I felt our long lost connection return immediately. The beer had lowered my inhibitions too, causing me to take the unnecessary risk of being seen in public showing affection to one of John's girls. Lela and I talked candidly on the way to my dorm, and she shared some of John's selfish exploits when it came to sex. As I listened on intently, it was obvious that Lela enjoyed being treated like a fuck-toy by John.

"I know it's messed up," she said. "I know I deserve better. However, when that man forces me to my knees and makes me suck his cock, I get so wet. I hate myself for it. It is all I think about when I masturbate," she admitted. "I am self-lubricating right now just thinking about him blowing his load all over my new lingerie."

As I digested her words, I felt a pang of regret. I had forced Lela into unwanted sexual activity when we had dated, not knowing at the time that she would eventually respond favorably to aggressive men. I kicked myself for the lost opportunity with Lela, and as she poured her heart out to me we reached the door to my room. Hanging from the door knob was a pair of women's panties, the universal "Do not disturb," symbol in college dorm rooms across the United States. Lela looked at the underwear for a few seconds, and after establishing that they didn't belong to her, burst into tears.

At this juncture, our options were fairly limited. John and I co-existed by this point in time, but our truce was dependent on my submission to him. If I had entered the room, despite the obvious sign that he required privacy, he would have punished me severely, either by kicking my ass, or fucking it. With my bedroom no longer an option, I briefly considered hanging out in Lela's car, but with campus security roaming the school parking lots on a regular basis, we wouldn't go undetected. Being in a car while intoxicated was not a smart move, so we headed towards the television room.

Being a Friday night, it wasn't packed, but the atmosphere was not conducive to trying to lighten Lela's mood.

"Let's go to the Holiday Inn," I suggested. "It is cheap, clean and we can get you warmed up for your drive home."

Surprisingly, Lela was in agreement with my plan for us to secure a hotel room and we checked in. At forty-nine dollars a night, the Holiday Inn was not only inexpensive, but it was also the closest hotel to the college, and I had spent many nights there over the last year, as John commandeered our room. He never gave me any notice either. He would either hang his date's panties on the door-knob, which meant stay somewhere else, or occasionally roust me from my deep sleep to let me know that he needed me to get lost. As a consequence of many nights spent at this hotel, the guy checking me in recognized me and engaged me. He also attended my college, as did most of the minimum wage employees of the hotel, who were working their way through school.

"Roommate balls-deep in some hottie again tonight, Mark?" he said cheerfully. "You need to get a new room assignment in the dorm, bro."

While I had no intention of sharing John's promiscuity with Lela, the guy's innocuous comment opened the discussion, and when we got to the hotel room, we cracked open a beer, and Lela's line of questioning began. I initially tried to defend John, making up a story about me checking into the hotel when he snored too loudly, but she knew I was covering for him.

"Why would you lie for him, Mark?" Lela cried. "He butt-fucked you for Christ's sake. He is not a friend to either of us. He is a sexual predator."

As we talked and Lela cried, one thing led to another, and after several beers, and numerous unanswered texts to John, Lela wanted to take a shower. I went out onto the balcony to get some fresh air, and about twenty minutes later she called me into the hotel room.

"I bought this today intending to wear it for John," Lela slurred, as she posed seductively in an all-white lingerie ensemble.

The silk camisole and matching boy-shorts accentuated her curves perfectly, and were a beautiful contrast to her jet black hair, and her dark Cherokee skin. Lela had on some stay-up, thigh-high fishnet stockings, and some white high-heels, and she looked absolutely phenomenal.

"I want you to enjoy me tonight instead," she whispered. "Are you still a virgin, Mark?"

As Lela moved into my personal space, her unsteady gait signaling her intoxication, I knew I should have declined her advances, both out of consideration of her diminished judgment and for my personal safety, in the event that John found out. However, knowing that something is wrong, and having the intestinal fortitude to follow the righteous path are two completely different things, and as Lela extended her dainty hand to my zipper, I folded immediately.

"Are you Mark?" she repeated, as she gently tapped her manicured fingertip against my purity ring. "If this is your first time I want you to enjoy me bare-back," she whispered softly.

"This is my first sexual encounter," I replied shyly. "With a woman," I added, well aware that Lela had witnessed me getting sodomized by John.

Lela had far more sexual experience than me at this point in our young lives, and seemed comfortable taking control. After she lowered my zipper, she fished my cock from my underwear, the tip of which was slick with pre-cum. Her movements were unsteady, lacking the co-ordination of someone in charge of their faculties, but I chose to ignore her inebriation as she clumsily pulled my pants and briefs down around my ankles. Lela took my shirt from me next, stripping me with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted.

Once I was naked, Lela moved closer to me and began to kiss me tenderly. I was fully erect now, the head of my cock being teased by the silky material of her camisole, as she rocked slowly against me. I tried to recall John's skillful seduction of my ex-girlfriend as he had teased her relentlessly, until she willingly gave up both her vaginal and anal cherries. I knew I had to take it slow, tease her breasts and stomach first, before turning her over and paying attention to her shoulders and neck. I pictured John running his tongue up the back of Lela's legs before getting right to the edge of her labia, and stopping. He did this repeatedly, until she begged him to go down on her.

With my game-plan firmly entrenched in my mind, Lela pulled me closer to her, and under her instruction we flopped onto the hotel bed. Landing on top of her, I tried to remember the exact sequence of John's seduction of Lela, and I decided to start with her nipples. Lela had other plans, parted her thighs, and wrapped her feet around my buttocks. The silk of her thigh-highs felt amazing as it grazed my ass and upper thighs, and combined with the chemise that was rubbing against my glans as she began to rock slowly beneath me, induced a steady stream of pre-cum.

Lela slid one hand between us, grabbed the tip of my cock and guided me towards her sex. Pulling her silky boy-shorts to one side, she lined me up with the entrance to her pussy, which had previously self-lubricated as we talked about John's dominance of her. Lela eased my cock-head just inside her, before exerting a steady pressure on my buttocks with her feet.

As I slid into her warm, tight, wet pussy, all thoughts of teasing Lela into pleasurable submission vanished, replaced by an all-consuming desire to ejaculate inside her. I loved this woman, and I had fantasized about having sex with her from the first time that we met. Now that I was balls-deep inside this beautiful young girl, it was better than I could ever have imagined, and as we rocked slowly in unison, Lela put her lips to my ear and began to whisper.

"John is gonna shit when he finds out that you put the wood to me," she slurred. "That asshole is insanely jealous that you were my first boyfriend. It kills him that you were the first guy I jerked off. I want us to tell him together," she added. "After you butt-fuck me."

Lovemaking, like any other physical activity, is an acquired skill, and in just the same way that one would expect to fall a few times when learning to ski, I fully expected to experience some kind of learning curve. What I didn't expect though, as we rocked slowly together, and Lela offered me up everything that John had ever enjoyed and more, was the involuntary expulsion of my ejaculate into her tight pussy, as I came prematurely under her seductive ways.

I truly tried to fight it, as I felt the tell-tale signs of my impending release. I felt a deep stirring in my loins first, before my nuts began to constrict. I knew I should have pulled out to delay my climax, but her tight, moist, teenage pussy felt other-worldly to me, and ejaculating inside it became my sole obsession. The hem of her silky boy-shorts caressed the shaft of my cock as I thrust deep inside Lela, then my nuts suddenly tightened, and I emptied their contents inside the love of my life. As I writhed and squirmed in ecstasy, Lela tried to be cool, but I heard her let out a sigh of frustration.

"Fuck no, Mark," she said under her breath, her disappointment palpable.

Truth was, despite this being the defining moment of my young life, I empathized with her. I could only imagine how much more enjoyable my climax would have been had it been preceded by eight or nine of Lela's orgasms, the way John's had. Lela laid passively on her back, trying to contain her irritation at being left high and dry. Then, after presumably looking for alternative ways to get her own release, she blurted out.

"Fuck. My vibrator is in my back-pack in your room," she said, with an exasperated groan.

I knew that the source of her anger was John's infidelity, rather than my piss-poor lovemaking abilities, but it was still emasculating to be laying next to a beautiful woman without the capacity to fulfill her.

"Relax, Lela," I said, unable to conceal my embarrassment. "Let me see if I can help you get off."

As soon as I had lowered my lips to her breast, I realized how hopelessly inexperienced I was around women. Lela responded to John's aggressive dominant approach, but when I tried to mimic it, by nibbling her nipple, she let out an anguished cry of pain, and shouted at me.

"Jesus, Mark," she cried. "You nearly bit the fucking thing off. Just let me chill for a while."

In a misguided attempt to try and inject some humor into the situation, I removed the purity ring from my finger and placed it on the bedside table.

"I won't be needing this any more, baby," I said cheerfully.

Lela flashed me a look contempt, and as we laid next to each other on the hotel bed, her exasperation affected my post-orgasmic mood, causing it to sour the experience for me. Yes, my first foray into sex had been an unmitigated disaster, but Lela didn't need to be so hostile about it.

Just when I thought that things couldn't get any worse, Lela's phone dinged, and I prayed it wasn't John. I knew that Lela would tell him to go fuck himself, but I just wanted to relax and recuperate before I took Lela back to get her stuff.

Lela perked right up once she saw that the text was from John, sitting upright in the bed as they began to text. Over the next few minutes, as she typed away furiously with him, her body language slowly changed. She started to smile occasionally, and I saw a noticeable increase in her breathing. Inexplicably, her nipples hardened as they communicated on their phones, and I could sense an elevated level of arousal in Lela. As she became progressively excited by their interaction, Lela removed her silky boy-shorts, and tossed them on the floor. Parting her legs slightly, she absentmindedly toyed with her clit as she texted John. I was lying next to her, transfixed by her apparent lack of shame as she masturbated right in front of me.

Shame had been a huge part of Lela's sexual repression, the familial pressure to remain pure combining with the Catholic Church's stance on pre-marital sex, to keep her chaste. John had moved her goalposts significantly, and as she had fallen so madly in love with him, Lela was willing to accommodate his every desire, suppressing her shame in the process. I could see Lela's arousal written all over her face as she teased herself, and then as if she suddenly remembered that I was in the room, she leaned over and grabbed a fistful of my hair. Lela could have simply asked me to go down on her, but she seemed to derive a certain amount of pleasure from exerting her will over me, so she forced my head down slowly, as she spread her legs further apart.

Years later, after I had more sexual experience, I got to know that the female sex-organs can be quite beautiful, when presented properly. A woman's vagina, fresh out of the bath, clean-shaven and scented with body lotion was quite appealing. However, this was my first look at a pussy, and it was completely unappetizing. The vagina itself was compressed, flattened by our dry-humping and brief sexual encounter. Slick with her vaginal secretions, a strong odor of arousal emanated from within, which I found offensive to my olfactory receptors. To make matters worse, globs of semen were evident around the entrance to her vaginal cavity, and there were traces of semen matted in her trimmed bush. I knew the seminal fluids were mine, but I wanted no part of ingesting them. When I offered the slightest bit of resistance, Lela tightened her grip on my hair, and forced my face into the disgusting mess.

"Eat," she whispered softly. "Your first cream pie."

I tentatively extended my tongue, and as Lela continued to text with John, I licked up my ejaculate. Lela kept me between her legs for twenty minutes, alternating between texting and giving me instructions. She took a few lewd pictures of herself, focusing on her upper body to ensure that she didn't arouse John's jealousy.

Apparently the impromptu photo shoot did the trick, because about ten minutes after Lela sent John the first picture of her erect nipples, her phone rang.

"Hi baby," Lela said excitedly. "Are you ready for me to come over, yet?"

"Amanda is still here," John answered with no remorse whatsoever. "But you are welcome to join us. The more the merrier."

I looked up to gauge Lela's reaction to John's dismissive remark, hoping to God that she wasn't going to allow John to enjoy her as part of a threesome. Lela had a look of abject disappointment on her face as she processed John's offer, but she quickly suppressed it. Grabbing me by one ear she forced my face back between her legs and responded enthusiastically.

"I would love to see you John," Lela said. "I just need to take a quick shower. Give me about thirty minutes."

"Ok, baby," John said sweetly. "Amanda and I will wait for you. Wear something pink," he added cheerfully.

"Whatever you want John," she said in an agreeable tone." My lingerie is in your room, though."

"I will leave your bags just outside my door," John offered, clearly having no interest in seeing Lela unless she was all dolled up for him.

As soon as he hung up the phone, Lela was out of bed heading towards the shower.

"Go and get my shit, Mark," she whispered softly. "There should be three bags outside the door of John's room."

"My room, too," I countered, not enjoying the way that this was heading.

As I walked from the hotel to my dorm room, it occurred to me that Lela was right. Yes, technically it was half my room, and I certainly had the emails to prove that I paid rent for the space. However, in reality it was John's personal space, and I only slept there with his consent, on the nights when he wasn't "getting balls-deep in some hottie," as the hotel employee so eloquently put it.

When I got to my room, the panties were still hanging from the door knob, and Lela's stuff was just outside the door. Judging by the way that it was lying in a pile, it had been unceremoniously dumped outside the door, and I wondered if John had perhaps made Amanda put it there, as an act of control, after informing her that he was going to expect a threesome.

One of the bags had spilled its contents onto the carpeted floor of the hallway, and as I stuffed three or four different colored g-strings into the bag, I couldn't help stealing a look inside. My heart sank as I realized that this bag was stuffed full of lingerie, panties, camisoles, garter-belts in a wide assortment of colors. There were intimates in there in numerous shades of pink, assuring that Lela would be able to accommodate John's demands, however specific.

Lela was already out of the shower by the time I returned to the hotel room, and I took my turn to rinse off, as I had our combined juices spread over much of my face. By the time I had dried off and dressed, Lela had prettied herself up, and had transformed herself into a complete fuck-toy for John. I couldn't help notice that she had shaved her neatly-trimmed bush completely bald.

"John expects me to be clean shaven before we fuck," Lela said with a smile.

As she applied a matching shade of lip-gloss to her blow-job lips, I was disappointed in myself for being unable to satisfy Lela in our earlier encounter. Apparently that task now fell to John, which was a kick in the nuts to me.

"How do I look?" Lela asked me, as she rotated one hundred and eighty degrees. "Are my stockings on straight?"

I truly loved this woman, and as she asked me to critique her so that she was visually perfect for another man's enjoyment, it cut me to the core. Right before I could answer, Lela's phone rang and she held up her hand to silence me.

"Hi baby," she said enthusiastically. "Are you guys ready for me to join you?"

I couldn't hear exactly what John was saying, but based on Lela's responses, I think he was pressing her for her current location.

"The Holiday Inn," she said quietly.

Again in response to something inaudible to me from John, she answered, "No baby, I didn't get a credit card yet. Mark put it on his."

My head sank as she told him this, as I knew what a jealous and controlling asshole John could be.

"Room 334," she said quietly, as she bit her lip. "Yes, John. Understood. We will wait for you."

As John hung up the phone, Lela flashed me a look of horror.

"John is heading this way," she said fearfully. "He is really pissed at you. He thinks you brought me back to the hotel room to seduce me."

"Lela," I cried, "John can never know that we had sex."

"I'm not stupid, Mark," she whispered. "I know that for fuck's sake."

As the two of us churned in our anxiety, John seemed to take an eternity to arrive, and when he finally slammed his fist into our hotel door, Lela and I looked at each other as if willing the other person to open it. Lela finally folded, thereby ending our little standoff, and as she opened the door, John barged his way in, looked at our guilt-ridden faces, and spoke firmly.

"Kneel," he commanded. "Both of you. By the foot of the bed."

My heart was thumping in my chest as I knelt next to Lela at the foot of the bed. Even though we had both just showered, the room had a strong odor of sex, from where Lela had played with herself while she texted John. I knew he must have noticed the pungent smell when he walked in the room, but he chose to ignore it.