The Slumber Party Ch. 07

Rod and Melissa agreed to meet for dinner—nothing more than Kidd Valley hamburgers, just north of campus—two days later.

To say that the meeting was a tad awkward would be an understatement. Their initial encounter in Grant's house had turned the whole art of dating on its head. My God! Melissa thought. I put that guy's cock in me without even knowing his name, and after being "acquainted" with him for, like, five minutes! What a shameless hussy I must be! And yet, no one could deny that they'd started off their relationship—if indeed they were going to have a relationship—on a high note! What a story they would have to tell their grandchildren . . .

But Melissa knew that was jumping to huge conclusions. As she sat down with Rod at Kidd Valley, she gave him a close scrutiny, both physically and in other ways. There was no mistaking his physical attractiveness, even though he himself seemed to think he was nothing special in the looks department. At five foot ten, he would have had a commanding presence if he wasn't so thin—and Melissa vowed to herself to fix that in due course of time. He had a delicate, sensitive face—very short, well-trimmed sandy hair, deep brown eyes, and a general look of ingenuous honesty that immediately warmed her heart. There was a certain awkwardness in his motions, as if he weren't quite comfortable in his gangly frame. And as she studied his sturdy legs, she couldn't help recalling what lay concealed behind those Dockers he was wearing.

Rod, for his part, drank in Melissa as if she were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. True, the woman who had taken his virginity, Angela, was a goddess among women; but in the most literal sense of the term she was unattainable, at least as far as a long-term relationship was concerned. He had copulated with her three times that afternoon—twice (front and back) before meeting Melissa, and once (mouth) afterwards. That made four in all. He didn't think he had that much in him, but it was no doubt the double stimulus of two such superb women that inspired him.

So, just like Grant after his initial encounter with Angela, Rod found himself unable to take his eyes off Melissa. At times she found his scrutiny almost disconcerting, but she knew it was a result of fondness, maybe even infatuation.

They told each other as much as they could about their lives while they devoured their burgers. Rod Davis was an only child from Spokane who had yearned to leave that stultifying town and come to a vibrant, dynamic, liberal city where the sky seemed to be the limit. His parents were pretty stodgy, and they certainly didn't approve of his majoring in such an esoteric field as comparative literature.

Melissa related to Rod her life as a sibling—she had an older sister, Audrey, now a senior here at the UW, but mercifully their paths didn't cross much. It wasn't exactly that they didn't get along; it was simply that they lived in different worlds. Melissa was in fact surprised that Audrey had even gone to college, since academic life didn't suit her at all. She was a party girl par excellence, and probably her chief reason for enrolling was to have access to all the available men on campus, along with the booze and the pot. She wasn't at all interested in finding a husband; in fact, she seemed to enjoy playing the field as much as any man.

Melissa was more serious, and her parents in Issaquah were grateful. She was a science girl, studying chemistry and physics—subjects that were such closed books to Rod that he gazed at her with awe and a bit of trepidation. She wasn't sure what she would do with a degree in those fields, but she figured there were plenty of opportunities.

After they finished their meal, they strolled back to campus, spending a lot of time just walking around the large and beautifully landscaped grounds. Gradually, as darkness descended, they found their way back to Melissa's boarding house.

Now it was going to get tricky.

As they both stopped in front of the house, they looked at each other without knowing what to do. That unexpected coitus two days before made things so confusing! So they contented themselves with a close hug and a kiss.

As Melissa rested her head against Rod's chest, she said dreamily, "Would you like to come in for a bit?"

A little shiver went through Rod. After several moments he said, "No, I think I'd better not."

A sharp stab of pain seemed to go right into Melissa's heart. My God! This hurts more than when Grant poked me!

"Wh-why not?" she said, wishing she didn't sound so needy.

Rod again paused before saying agitatedly, "Oh, Melissa! I don't want you to assume that we'll 'get it on' every time we meet, just because of what happened at Grant's house! Do you see what I mean? I'm not going to assume that you'll make your body available to me just like that. Maybe we should pretend our first meeting never happened."

It was clear he was deeply troubled. Melissa looked up at him with tears in her eyes and said:

"Rod, that's very, very sweet of you—but you know we can't just forget what happened. I know it's a very strange way to begin a relationship, but we have to live with it. Anyway, I just wanted you to come in for a few minutes. There's no harm in that, is there?"

He swallowed down his emotions and said, "No, I guess not. I'd like that very much."

So she let him into the house. She had only a single room off the main floor, off to one side of the common living room. She shut the door behind them, looking at a space that had little but a queen-size bed, a desk, and some bookshelves.

Somehow Rod wasn't expecting the room to be so small. He doffed his coat and draped it over the desk chair, then, for lack of anyplace else to sit, parked himself demurely at one corner of the bed.

Melissa sat several feet away, taking off her shoes.

They chatted on general subjects to no particular purpose. For some mysterious reason they both seemed extremely uncomfortable. After about fifteen minutes Melissa just exploded.

"Oh, for heaven's sake! I can't talk with you like this! I just have to take my clothes off. You'd better do the same if you know what's good for you."

And she proceeded to strip right in front of him, although paying him little attention. As he gawked at her, he mechanically unbuttoned his shirt, then his pants, and slipped out of them. In a matter of seconds they were both naked, and as it was a bit chilly in the room, they snuggled under the blanket and wrapped themselves in each other's arms.

"There!" Melissa said with satisfaction. "That's better."

And in fact it was: their talk became more personal and intimate; and as they revealed more and more about themselves, Melissa was gratified to find Rod stroking her all over with his hands—her face, her back, her bottom, her thighs. And she could feel that her own stroking was having a pronounced effect on Rod's groin. When he slipped a hand between her legs, she gasped and opened her thighs to accommodate him. She was already quite wet, and he took little time in stimulating her to a satisfying climax.

She nestled in his embrace like a contented cat, but knew that it would soon be his turn. So she rolled onto her back and urged him to get on top of her. He did so without delay and plunged into her—slowly at first, knowing that his member was larger than she was used to, but then more decisively as she gradually accommodated his size and girth. She relished Rod's weight on her: Grant, while a splendid specimen of masculinity, was just a little too heavy for her, and she liked Rod's leanness much better. As he came close to his culmination, he pounded her relentlessly, and she just lay back and endured his thrusts until he exploded in her.

As he rolled off of her, she said breathlessly, "Man, that was pretty rough!"

He gave her a look of mortification. "Omigod, Melissa! Did I hurt you?"

"No, no—I liked it. I'm no delicate flower."

They both laughed at that, but the ever-sensitive Rod was still a bit nervous. The idea of causing a woman pain filled him with terror and grief. Women had suffered enough throughout human history without him adding to their pain—especially in an act that was supposed to be mutually pleasurable.

He took her in his arms, making her rest on top of him while he once again caressed her all over. He seemed to focus on her bottom, which she had to admit was quite nice—round and firm like a peach. She couldn't help commenting on his interest.

"You seem to like my butt," she said.

"It's a great butt," he agreed.

After a pregnant pause she said: "You wanna go in?"

He stopped his stroking at once. "Do you mean that?"

"Yes, of course. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't."

"Um, did you do that with Grant?"

"I did."

"How was it?"

"It hurt a little, but not much."

"I guess I'm a little bigger than him—I mean, down there."

"You are—and that's why you shouldn't go all the way in. Can you manage that?"

"Sure, anything for you!"

"You're a sweetheart. Someone will have to go get the lube."

"Do you have some?"

"The cold cream is in the bathroom down the hall."

Rod leaped up with unholy haste and started to leave the room.

"Jesus Christ, Rod, put something on!" she warned. "There are other people in this house, you know."

"Oh." He blushed furiously. "What do I put on?"

"There's a robe in my closet."

He went over there and fished around. He couldn't find exactly what Melissa was referring to.

"Where?" he said, baffled.

"Right in front of you, you silly man!"

In a sort of dazed wonder Rod held up a frilly, flowery thing that weighed next to nothing and seemed practically see-through.

"You want me to wear this?" he cried.

"Well, what else? You don't really want to put your clothes on, do you?"

"No," he muttered as he donned the absurd garment.

He came back in no time with the jar. By this time Melissa had already placed herself in a prone position, waiting for his application of the stuff. Her face was buried in a pillow.

But Rod did nothing.

"What's the matter?" she said impatiently. "Go ahead."

"You—you want me to do it?" he stammered.

"Yes," she said. "And hurry up."

But he still did nothing.

"Didn't you do this to Angela?" Melissa said sharply. "You said you did her—"

"I did, but she had already applied the stuff herself."

Enlightenment finally dawned. "And you're squeamish about putting your fingers in there?"

Rod did not reply, but his silence spoke volumes.

"Well, guy," she said flatly, "if you wanna put your cock in there, you'd better first put your fingers there. Them's the rules."

Her witticism lightened the mood, and with a nervous laugh he scooped out a large hunk of the white creamlike substance and started applying it to Melissa's bottom.

But even this was unsatisfactory. "Rod, dearest, you're going to have to put your fingers inside if the stuff is going to work." Then, with faint malice: "Otherwise it's going to hurt me."

That did the trick, and he inserted two fingers deep into her anus—a little too fast and hard, for she gasped at the sudden motion.

"Careful!" she snapped. "I'm still a little tender back there." Grant wasn't exactly gentle when he probed my bottom.

When he finished, Rod put the jar carefully on the nightstand, wiped his hands on some Kleenex, and prepared for the procedure. As he lay on top of her, she said: "Remember—go slow. And don't go in all the way."

"Yes, ma'am," he said flippantly.

The first insertion of his cock into her bottom was fine, but Melissa suffered a little jolt once the tip made its way in. But she gamely strove to relax and loosen her muscles as she encouraged Rod to go in further. He wasn't certain exactly how far would be too much: I mean, I don't have a tape measure with me! He went in inch by inch, and the sensation was so overwhelming that he kept on going.

"Omigod, stop!" she said. "That really hurts!"

A shudder went through him. "Should I come out?"

"No, no!" she said desperately. "Just pull out a little bit."

He withdrew several inches. "Is that better?"

"Yeah," she said. Sweat had suddenly popped out on her brow. "It's all right. Just start pumping—slowly."

He obeyed as best he could. But he was so enraptured by the tight grip of Melissa's anus on his cock that after a while he forgot her instructions and began pounding her hard, at times pulling his member almost all the way out and then thrusting it back in almost to the hilt. She was making strange choking sounds and gripping the bedsheet with her hands spasmodically, and her eyes were squeezed shut; but she didn't order him to come out, so Rod figured he was doing okay.

By now the lubricant—and Melissa's own juices—had made the process minimally easier, and Rod found himself almost entirely in her when he finally shot his load deep into her rectum, bringing forth more choking cries from her. He had seized her breasts in customary fashion, squeezing them so hard that they seemed like lumps of gelatin. He remained in her for minutes—and would have remained a lot longer if she hadn't said:

"Can you please come out now?"

He did so as slowly and painlessly as he could, but the procedure still caused her to cry out when he finally popped out of her.

As he rolled off of her, she collapsed bonelessly, thick strands of her hair draped all over her face.

"My God," she whispered, "that was something."

Rod didn't know what to make of that. "Was it good?"

"Yeah," she said dreamily.

"Did I—did I hurt you?"

She looked sharply at him. "Yes, you did. But I liked it anyway." There's no way I'm going to say I liked it because you hurt me. That would be awful. But still . . .

He just beamed at her.

"Did you go in the whole way?" she said accusingly.

He flushed. "Yeah, I think so. I'm sorry."

"You naughty boy," she said, but her tone was lighthearted. "You could have broken something in there."

At his look of horror she said, "Oh, Rod, I'm kidding! It was fine. But next time, maybe ease up a bit?"

"Yes, of course—anything you say!"

That wasn't the end of the evening's festivities; but when they finally did collapse in exhausted sleep, they both felt that they were really and truly a couple.

*

The day after her double deflowering, Melissa had called her sister Audrey, two years her elder and now getting close to graduating. Audrey had had a whole lot more experience with guys than she had—she had lost her virginity at least by fifteen, if the steady parade of boys in her bedroom was any indication—and so, in spite of the fact that the sisters really didn't have much in common and had very different outlooks on life, Melissa felt that for once Audrey might have some useful advice to give.

After some initial pleasantries, Melissa came out with it.

"Um, Audrey, can you tell me something?"

"Sure, sis. What?"

Melissa was silent for so long that Audrey said, "What is it? Something troubling you?" That struck Audrey as unlikely: not only did Melissa usually have her act together, but if she was in trouble, she wasn't likely to seek help from her older sister.

"No, not exactly," Melissa murmured. "I just wondered: how long does it take to—you know, get over the soreness?"

There was a staggering silence. Then Audrey burst out laughing.

"You mean sex? Don't tell me you've finally opened your legs to a guy!"

"Audrey, please! You don't have to be quite so crude about it."

"I'm sorry, Mel. I'm sure it was a wonderful experience. Or was it?"

"Yeah, it was wonderful." Both times, if you want to know.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. As for the soreness—God, I really have to cast my mind back." That was a not so subtle dig at the fact that Audrey had had a whole lot more experience in this line than Melissa did. "I don't know—maybe a few days. Why? Is the guy eager to get back into your pants?"

"Audrey, stop that!" Melissa said sharply. "It's not like that. It's just that I don't like feeling sore. It's even hard to walk."

"Yeah, I know, it's a bummer, but you'll get over it. It's just something we girls have to endure."

"Guys get sore too."

"Sure they do. But they seem to recover quicker."

"Which way did you recover sooner?"

Audrey was now genuinely flummoxed. "I'm not following you."

"Oh, Audrey, you must know what I'm talking about. Front or back?"

It was now Audrey's turn to lapse into an appalled silence. It lasted so long that Melissa wondered if their call had been cut off somehow, and she started to say, "Audrey, are you still—?"

But Audrey interrupted with unexpected venom. "You let a guy go into your ass?"

Now it was Melissa who was flummoxed. "Well, sure. What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with that?" Audrey screamed at the top of her voice. "How could you possibly let a guy do that to you? It's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard of. Omigod, my own sister submitting to a man like that—what's the world coming to?"

Melissa felt that Audrey must be pulling her leg—playing a huge practical joke on her. "Audrey, you don't mean that."

"I certainly do!" she said, still shouting. "It's vile and awful and unsanitary and—and just dreadful! I'd never, ever let a man do that to me!"

"You mean you never have?"

"Of course not!"

"Then how can you know whether you like it or not?"

"I don't have to do it to know I'd hate it!"

The whole conversation was becoming surreal. Here was Audrey, who prided herself on sleeping with dozens, perhaps hundreds, of guys over the past six or seven years—and she was sounding like a New England spinster from the nineteenth century! Who knew?

"Audrey, it's really rather nice—"

"Don't you say that to me, Melissa Waters!" Audrey shrieked, now seeming to direct her hostility at her own sister. "You can't realize what you're saying."

"Oh, Audrey, plenty of girls do it—or have it done to them. You gotta use lube, of course."

"What lube?"

"Cold cream seems to work best."

"Omigod," Audrey said heavily. "I think I'm going to puke."

"What is the matter with you? Since when did you become so prudish?"

"I'm not prudish!" Audrey yelled. "I let guys do just about anything they want—except that! And you don't want to know how many guys have wanted to do that to me!"

"I believe it," Melissa said dryly. "But I really think you're being a little hasty—casting a judgment on something before you even try it."

"I do not want to have this conversation anymore," Audrey said emphatically. "If you want to do it, fine. But leave me out of it!"

And that's how the phone call ended.

*

But that wasn't the end of the matter. There was no way to avoid having Rod meet Audrey at some point or other. The two sisters' paths may not have crossed all that much, but a meeting was all but inevitable. Audrey had made plain that she wasn't particularly keen on such a thing ("All I'll be able to think about when I see this guy is, 'Oh, here's the fellow who's poking my sister up the ass'"—Melissa hadn't explained that her first anal experience was with someone else entirely), but when the three of them met near Drumheller Fountain one bright afternoon in April, Melissa was forced to make the awkward introductions.

"Hi," Rod said shyly, knowing a little about Audrey but not aware of her fervent hostility toward rear entry.

Audrey seemed reluctant even to take Rod's hand when he extended it, but she finally did take it with pretty bad grace. "Hi," she mumbled.