The Dancer's Deceit Ch. 01

"OMG Hahaha! You know I got soaked with beer! Everything was dripping wet and stinky like beer, so I took it off and put my shirt back on."

"In front of everyone?" I regretted that right after I hit send, but I couldn't think of another way to react.

"Hahaha Oops!" she sent, adding the blushing emoji. "I was just freaked out and didn't even think about it and pulled my wet bra off! I'm sorry! Don't be mad! It was funny. The guys all thought it was hilarious! Did you see how much beer came out of my bra? Hahaha!"

"You should button your shirt, at least."

She sent three separate texts in a row.

"I popped a button trying to keep it down!" (Sad face emoji)

"Don't worry! It's long enough to cover me, but a good song came on and I was holding it down! The button hit pat! Hahahaha! I can't move in it."

"I suck at sewing. I hope someone can put my button back on!" (Pouty face emoji)

"Just be careful, baby doll! That last pic looked like you might be flashing a bit down there. And they can totally see your boobs!" I decided not to question why she was dancing wearing only a moderately long shirt.

"They already saw my boobs! I accidentally took my bra off in front of them, remember?"

"That's true, but no need to give them more of a show than you have to!"

She sent more heart emojis and a kissy selfie, which also popped up in the photos app. I noticed that she didn't respond to my comment about her flashing them.

Having a better idea of what was going on was frustrating, but it did make me feel slightly better. It wasn't innocent fun, but it didn't feel out of control from her tone in the texts, and the guys were still fully clothed, so I knew it wasn't some sort of orgy. I was at least able to concentrate on my homework again. It was 12:30 when I put the finishing touches on my paper and closed my laptop. I stood and stretched, then walked over to to look at any new pictures that had come in.

I groaned out loud. For every one picture of one or two of the guys, there were at least seven of her, and I quickly scrolled through to assess just how bad it really was.

There were fifteen or so more pictures of them playing the game. I could see one, if not both, of her boobs exposed in the wide majority, including in a few of those in which the subject was one of the guys and she was just in the background. In many, she was obviously holding her shirt open. In about a third, either because it was plainly visible or merely hinted at, I could see her little patch of hair, and in a few I could see half an inch below to the small strip of skin between the tops of her lips that covered her clit. I opened a couple of those to full size, and I could follow it down where it disappeared into the folds of skin beneath. Though nothing appeared overly graphic, I was concerned by how much they had very obviously seen of her. The time stamps between the wet bra and topless photos to these was almost an hour. I had an anxious feeling, mixed with a sort of irritation, but I realized that I had a hard-on, and I kept picturing the scene, with each of these guys getting a peek and a flash of her amazing body.

I didn't want to be turned on by any of this, so I shut the again and voiced my frustration to the empty room. "Wonderful," I said out loud. "Well, you've been treating the guys to quite a show for over an hour now!"

I paced back and forth, unable to get the images out of my head. These were not the actual pictures that were stuck in my brain, but the scene in the room I was creating. I was trying to think of things to get my confusing erection to subside, but I could only seem to focus on that imagined scenario. My paper and my class were in the far recesses of the back of my mind. I had my keys and my phone in my hands twice, ready to leave, to head over to Steve's dorm. There were too many problems with this plan. I'd never been to Steve's room, specifically, so I wasn't sure I'd be able to find it. Thirsty Thursday was a bigger night for people to get together, which would mean more people roaming the hallways, more girls' voices floating through the boy's dorm doors. I didn't even know with real certainty which floor he was on.

And then, assuming I did find them quickly, what would I say? There's no scenario in which I wouldn't come off as a jealous boyfriend. Or worse. I imagined how I would sound. "Hi! I missed you, and I'm pretty much done with my paper. I can wake up early to finish it. It's only half of my grade for the semester, directly in support of my major. No big deal. I just wanted to come and have fun! Yay! Can I have one of those beers? Oh, and not that it matters or anything, but I brought you some pants and a sweatshirt!"

I pictured myself as some dorky, two dimensional character with a one-episode appearance as the hot girl's boyfriend in a sitcom. A punchline that everyone else would laugh about during the wrap-up at the end of the show, and then never discuss again.

I stalked back to her computer and flipped up the lid a little more violently than I had intended. I scrolled through another random grouping of photos that were taken over a 20 minute span. It looked like the game had stopped, and they were just sitting around talking. The camera angles were all a little different, indicating that her phone was being passed back and forth. These photos were taken facing her, rather than from the sides, as though the guys had all moved to sit across from her; I could see no hints of anyone sitting to her left of right. Remembering some of the earlier pictures that had given me an idea of the room's layout, and recognizing that she was on the couch, it meant that they were sitting on the floor, probably leaning against the bed.

Almost every one of this set of pictures clearly showed her pussy. It was evident that her breasts and nipples were still exposed, or mostly so, because almost half of the pictures included them in frame. And in a few she was flashing them, pulling her shirt wide open. The rest were zeroed in on what was clearly the focal point now, capturing from her stomach to her stocking tops.

Her legs seemed to be casually positioned, not overtly spread, but not demurely together, either. The shirt was still only buttoned slightly below her navel, and her normally impeccable dancer's posture seemed to have been traded for a slightly inebriated slouch, which caused the shirttails to separate as they descended, so that they framed the area they were intended to conceal. Her outer lips were darker, a little puffy, and parted very slightly. Clicking any of the images to full size revealed a glistening reflection of the room's lighting dancing on her inner lips, evidence of the moisture inside. Although still not reaching the level of a pornographic spread shot, I could plainly see that the guys had been getting a very up-close and intimate view of my girlfriend's entire body.

The next image was jarring in several ways. What had been hinted at before was now on full display, and the silly, demure postures and poses were replaced with what I would have to classify as comedy porn. The comedy was up top. She was slumped on the floor, having obviously just slid off of the couch, laughing or screaming with a wide open mouth. Surprise was the prominent emotion, but there was a smile in her eyes. Her hair was splayed on the cushion behind her, her arms flayed out to the sides.

The porn was below. The shirt was bunched up just under her breasts, trapped between her body and the sofa. I could see her belly button and everything beneath. Her knees were bent, but spread farther apart than her feet, her butt lifted slightly, as though she was exercising and just starting a bridge move. Above the straining buttons, the blouse was twisted on her body so that one breast was mostly covered, the other completely exposed. As in the prior pictures, her nipple looked fully, almost painfully erect.

There were two more pictures, capturing her attempts to recover. In one, her hands were grasping the shirt, tugging it down, with her butt higher in the air as she struggled, and in the next, she was obviously sliding back up the couch, pushing with her still spread legs, her feet on the floor, heels slightly lifted. Laughter was highly evident on her face, along with a deep, shining blush.

I clicked all three to full size in turn. They almost seemed like two separate pictures. In the comedy half, the laughing girl, hilariously trying to cover herself, and the frantic kicking and struggling clearly seen, even in the utter stillness of a photograph. Then, with a pinch and a zoom to the porn half, a bawdy close-up of her clitoral hood, trailing its soft pink cape to become the gentle undulations of her inner lips, shiny with her juices, separating ever so softly around an inward slope. I could just make out the darkness that was her vagina, and the soft, redder slope beneath all of this that led to the back, to her tiny, puckered hole, slightly darker than the surrounding skin.

There were no more, and I stood, my cock throbbing, until I saw a new photo begin loading. This could not have been more different. She was standing in the same spot she'd stood hours ago, when shotgunning that beer, with the door to her side and the couch and bed in the background. The shirt was positively demure at this point, showing a fair bit of cleavage but no nipple, and hanging in a way that completely hid her below the waist. It was now held closed by a single button almost exactly at her navel. The exposed thigh above the freshly straightened and aligned stocking tops was enticingly sexy, and the genuine smile and flushed complexion of her face only enhanced the overall impact. It had been four minutes since the prior photo, and I immediately created ten different narratives of what might have filled that gap.

In the next picture, a minute later, the shirt was off, and she was standing naked, one stockinged foot crossed demurely over the other at the toes, a fresh blush on her face, and a cute, slightly embarrassed grin on her lips. More possible scenarios filled my head as I watched this happening in an irritatingly slow version of real time.

Another picture uploaded, this of her in just her bra, her lightly glistening slit still in frame but her legs more conventionally positioned, her feet and thighs no longer together. I could see a bit more than normal, her outer labia no longer closed off, providing a glimpse to the moist, pink flesh within. Her arousal was easily visible, as obvious as if she'd been a guy standing there with an erection.

Another picture loaded. This one was taken from behind. Her back was arched slightly so that her bare sex was discernable from between her thighs. Her fantastically toned butt looked firm and tight on the sides, as though she was flexing slightly, and I could see that her feet were farther apart still, hinting that she knew what she was showing.

As I was looking, another photo began loading. It took twenty seconds or so as I impatiently waited to open it. Face forward once more, smiling indulgently it seemed. She was still bottomless, but this image was more zoomed, forehead to mid-thigh. The view of her pussy was similar, but her inner lips were more prominent, slightly unfurled like tiny petals on a delicate flower. I stared, ignoring the next image even after it had completed uploading for nearly a minute. My mind was racing with how much the guys had seen of her.

Finally, her skirt was on, and only her nipples, still hard, were visible through the sheer fabric. This picture looked downright modest in comparison, and I mused for a moment at how upset I'd felt at the beginning of the night, seeing almost this same image, compared to the relief I was feeling now.

The final picture had her fully dressed; her shirt on once more, buttoned up, and her shoes back on her stockinged feet.

I waited another ten minutes, and nothing more came in. I closed her laptop and stood in indecision for a moment, then moved to her bed. I paced the room back and forth too many times to count, frustrated that my erection refused to subside. Finally, I heard her key in the door. She walked in, saw me standing, and leapt into my arms, tossing her phone and keys onto her pouf chair in the same motion.

She broke our kiss and quickly pulled my warmup pants and underwear down, pleased to find me already hard. With the grace of a dancer, still fully dressed, she hiked up her skirt, hugged around my neck, our lips locked together, and pulled her legs up, wrapping them around me. From there, she guided herself down onto me, both of us moaning as she took me all the way into her, then used her heels to find leverage, pushing herself up and down.

I turned, shuffled two steps, and fell onto the bed, forcing a primal grunt from her when the impact pushed me farther inside.

The sex with Alyssa was always amazing, and in this area, too, I was out of my league. But this was on another level. She writhed and squirmed under me, pulling me deeper with her heels still hooked around me. She managed to kick her shoes off and lost another button trying to get her shirt open. I tore my own shirt over my head, using the leverage of raising my upper body to drive more forcefully into her, and I quickly finished with her buttons. Her bra smelled faintly of stale beer. She had never been multi orgasmic, but she came very quickly, and moments later, a second time. Her excitement and quick orgasms, as well as her surprise attack caught me off guard. I normally wore a condom with her, so I pulled out at the last second, an embarrassingly short time after we began. She felt my wet warmth hit her stomach, and groaned, grinding herself against my still-hard dick, orgasming a third time from that stimulation.

After a minute of kissing, no more, she stood up, looking almost embarrassed. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist, my fluids marring it and her stomach. Her stockings were askew, one dropped down below her knee, the other twisted in place. Only her bra seemed in its proper position and fit. She sheepishly grabbed a handful of tissues and blotted her skirt, then pulled it off and wiped both of our juices from herself, and then from me, pulling off my shoes, socks, and finally my pants, which were still at my ankles, in the process.

"Come on. I'm sneaking you into the girls' room and we're screwing in the shower," she purred, pulling off her bra and hose, grinning as she watched me twitch and start to grow again.

For the second time, we worked without a condom, but I was able to control myself much better. We started facing one another, one leg around my hip and her back against the wall. She was louder than normal, and still more enthusiastic. She drove herself down onto me, meeting each of my thrusts. She swung her leg up, attempting to turn around, making a disappointed sound as I slipped out of her briefly. She positioned herself with her chest against the tile while I drove upwards into her, lifting her feet from the floor with every upward lunge. The sounds she made were animalistic growls and grunts that were nothing like the soft, sensual moans of our normal lovemaking.

I felt her legs weaken as she climaxed, but she was not done. She aimed the shower head against the wall, then hinged forward, demanding that I push myself deeper. She placed her fingertips on the wall in front of her feet, pushing herself backwards at me, grunting and keening, meeting my rhythm as I drove into her, my balls slapping against her clit. It was a very short couple of minutes before she came again, even more loudly as her cries echoed in the empty tile room. Unable to delay any longer, I pulled out of her, pump after pump landing on her back, mingling with the shower water and sliding thickly down the drain.

I felt a little foolish wearing a pink, very short, silky bathrobe as we dashed down the hall, but no one saw us. She giggled as she dashed ahead of me, naked and still a little damp, our towels streaming behind her from her hands. She seemed insatiable, working to suck and stroke me back to life as soon as her door was closed. She allowed me just enough time to get a condom on before beginning round three.

- 0 -

"Did you look at the pictures," she asked sheepishly after she'd apologized for attacking me, and I had assured her that an apology wasn't necessary. We were laying naked in her bed on top of the sheets, her head nuzzled against my chest while her fingernails traced lazy circles across my skin, and I dragged my hand lightly across her back. They were the first words either of us had spoken, other than grunts and exclamations during our lovemaking, and her proclamation that we were going to do it in the shower. I'd been thinking only sparingly of the pictures, my mind otherwise occupied since her return to the room, but it all came flooding back in that instant.

"I hope that's okay," I said. I didn't want to be the overprotective boyfriend, but I could completely understand how, if she acted like this a lot, her other relationships had ended. I thought it was a little off the mark to blame the guys for being jealous and controlling.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked contritely, with an almost fearful edge.

I considered before I answered. "I'm not mad, per se, but I am a bit concerned. I'm really trying not to be a controlling jerk of a boyfriend, but that looked like it went a bit too far."

"I guess I get that," she responded repentantly. "It probably looked a lot worse than it really was, though."

"I mean, how can it be anything other than it was? You got naked in front of five guys, and none of them are your boyfriend." I worked hard to turn my tone lighter at the end, trying to keep clear of any hint of reprimand. My psychology class taught us to "go to curious." Seek to understand before you make a determination about anything. Give the other person the chance to explain.

The pictures were frequent enough that I was able to convince myself that she hadn't done anything physical with them. Other than the one picture where Pat was shotgunning a beer shirtless at the very beginning of the night, none of the guys had any of their clothes off. Hell, in most of the pictures with the guys in them, I could see their shoes and socks still on their feet. Somehow it felt less dangerous that only she'd been naked.

"Well, yeah, that's true, but you're taking it out of context. They're just buddies. It wasn't, like, sexual or anything. It was just silly fun. And besides, it didn't start off to be that way. It just kind of happened."

'Wasn't sexual for you,' I thought sarcastically. I decided not to comment on that, because I didn't want to accuse her of anything until I knew more of what it was all about. And I couldn't criticize the results; I'd never seen her so horny before. I decided to keep the mood lighter.

"Just kind of happened?" I teased, gently tickling her ribs. "I never get to go to parties where it just happens that hot girls take their clothes off! You don't think the guys maybe tried to make any of that happen?"

I felt a flutter of arousal below my belly when I said those words, which confused me.

"Well, maybe they did," she conceded, still remorseful, but now with a playful edge to her voice, mirroring my tone. "And I probably could have done things differently. But it was a fun night, and I didn't want to spoil the good mood. I haven't laughed like that in a while, with all the stress of school."

It was true that she'd been under a lot of pressure lately and hadn't gotten to go out and party in quite a while. Between her exercise physiology practical exams, her mid-terms for business classes, and the performance showcase she had just completed, it was a miracle she'd had any time at all for leisure. "I'm really sorry I couldn't have been there with you," I offered, unsure of how to respond to the first half of her statement. I wondered if any of what had occurred would have happened if I'd gone along.