Two Janes at College

Moreover, my vag was all torn up, I just knew. I know rough sex was my best erotic fantasy, but that doesn't mean I wanted it, and certainly not like this, from a man I had never even seen before! My panic had caused my heart rate to enter the red zone of my heart tachometer.

"I didn't rape you, I just played our Friday night game, Jane. But I don't understand how you shrunk your boobs. Did you have surgery when I wasn't looking?"

"Look, whoever you are, Jane told me about you, but I'm not Jane," I said, and seeing the confusion on his drunken face, I added, "My name is Jane, and I look like your Jane, and I share room 3G with your Jane, but I am not your Jane. You just raped a woman via a mistaken identity."

Oh shit. He was hard again. "Nice try, Jane," he said. "I need some more," and he pinned my body to the mattress with his long octopus-like arms, spread my legs, and helped himself to another one of his long fucks. Perhaps he was in training for the new Olympics event, "Long Rapes?" This time I just let him, since he was going to take what he wanted anyway. Besides, now that I knew what was going on, I could relax enough to enjoy the fuck. Magoo gives great fucks.

After around five minutes of brutally fucking me, Magoo asked, "Hey, are you consenting this time, Jane? Or is this a second rape? I like it when you fight back. You're not even struggling. You're fucking cooperating. You sure are different tonight."

I gave an exasperated sigh, and gave in to yet another climax of what promised to be many, as the drunken, sweaty, half-blind animal of a man fucked me over and over again, brutally driving me to the edge of my sanity, as I writhed in submissive pleasure underneath him. I never did actually give him permission to rape me!

At least he wasn't trying anal with me. I shuddered when I thought about what Jane said he had done to her! My can of mace was conveniently located in my purse, which was inconveniently just then sitting in clear view on my desk, and hopelessly out of my reach.

The animal known as Magoo was giving me his fourth marathon fuck of the evening, and I was almost comatose, but still climaxing with great regularity, when my well fucked, happy, and drunk roommate Jane Higgins stumbled into our room, little dorm room 3G, and took in the sight of her lover pulverizing her hapless roommate Jane.

Jane H. went over to him, even as he was plunging in and out of me, and said, "Don't I get a kiss goodnight, lover?" as she kissed him on the lips. She climbed into her bed and was asleep in moments.

"How did you do that? Appear out of nowhere, standing up, while you're lying down below me and fucking me? Great kiss, by the way," Magoo asked me, as he continued brutally fucking me. I felt as if I had been shot into space and landed in a special place, called The Planet of The Insane, complete with fucking machines.

"Black magic," I said. "Shut up and continue fucking me, you asshole."

Mr. Magoo seemed happy to comply.

**

The next day, at student health, I got a cream to apply to my hopelessly sore vagina. It was the same cream they had earlier given to Jane Higgins. "You don't learn, do you, Jane?" the (male) doctor who was examining me had said.

"I'm a different Jane, Doctor. I'm Jane Simmons, and you're thinking of Jane Higgins, who was here a few weeks ago, no doubt with similar complaints," I said.

"How is your anus holding up?" the doctor asked, ignoring what I had just said.

"Just fine," I replied, and since I was naked below the waist, wearing a paper gown, I turned over and raised the gown to show off my perfect bubble butt ass to the lecherous doctor.

"Remarkable. I'm glad you've healed so nicely. My advice: Try to cut down on the rough sex," he said, and as I moved to get dressed, I was alarmed to see the nurse had left the room, and the doctor had removed his own pants, revealing a hard cock.

"Put it away, Doc. I'm not that Jane," I said.

"So, no blowjob for me today?" he said. "I still remember the one you gave me last time, you know."

"I should hope so," I replied, as I was apparently still located on the Planet of The Insane. "No blowjob from me today. Ask the nurse for one, why don't you?" I said, as I quickly left, eager to get the f**k out of student health and its totally inappropriate doctor! At least he hadn't told me that my boobs had shrunk.

Jane and I had a long talk. I liked being her roommate, but I didn't like Magoo coming into our room and raping me, while Jane was out at a party, taking pictures of random cocks. She had sent me two more, but they had arrived while I was pinned underneath the whale, getting fucked to smithereens. They were of the same two original cocks, but in the new pictures both cocks were soaking wet. One was wet with saliva, and the other was wet with "pussy juice," and she wanted me to guess which was which.

I needed to change rooms, and to change roommates. The Planet of The Insane was getting much too crowded.

**

There was no snow, but there was a chill to the air. The stores were playing the usual Christmas music. At least Mendelssohn, no less, wrote "Hark the Herald Angels Sing." I was driving to Chicago, together with my former roommate but still best friend, Jane Higgins. Steve would be there, with Elliott Branford III, and I figured that way I could provide a Jane for Steve. He seemed to like sluts named Jane in any event, and this Jane did not mind anal sex. My friend Jane might be less enthusiastic than Stephanie the Heiress, but Elliott had told me that Stephanie the Heiress was history, anyway. She was letting some other rich guy plunder her ass, these days.

Rich guys seemed to love anal sex, for some reason. Go figure. Maybe they think the large colon hides a pot of gold, or something. Hey -- whatever floats your boat, as we Hoosiers say. Then I had a thought worthy of the Planet of The Insane: Do the rich bitches like Stephanie-the-Heiress give birth through their anus? That would go a long way to explaining a lot of the rich people I knew personally, and especially those I knew about. It also gave new meaning to Shakespeare's phrase in Macbeth, "Not of woman born." To hell with Caesarian section, Macduff probably came out of his unfortunate mother's ass. I giggled to myself at my ridiculous thoughts.

I was excited at the prospect of seeing Elliott again. Except for my Magoo rape, which I now fantasized about, I had been chaste since my visit to the Ivy League. "Only" five guys, to date, had enjoyed my body, during my entire life, and that includes Mr. Magoo. My roommate Jane could do five guys just in two weeks, or at least, so it seemed. Steve was going to love her.

We drove straight to the Park Hyatt Chicago and I gave my old beat up Camry, with its Indiana plates, to the elegant parking attendant, and checked into our room. Elliott and Steve were already there. We were wined and dined and vagina lined, as we fucked our men at the end of the evening, Elliott and me on one double bed, with Steve and Jane Higgins on the other one. The guys seemed to like watching the other guy fuck his woman, and then they totally freaked me out when they proposed to trade women.

I really didn't want to fuck Steve again, since he had hurt me to the core, and the only reason I was saved was because I fell, hard, for Elliott, and here he was, wanting to fuck my best friend, the other Jane? Well, that's the way guys are, I rationalized, and we traded partners, even if I felt sick to my stomach.

In biology I had learned that lots of female animals choose their mates carefully, since they hatch or nurse the offspring, and are therefore potentially making a big investment when they copulate. The males, in contrast, just want to spread their seed far and wide. This seemed to work for humans, too, statistically speaking. The exceptions, such as easy virtue women like Jane and me, therefore were of great interest, or of great contempt. Aren't my powers of rationalization fabulous?

I was emotionally completely unprepared for how wonderful it felt to have Steve inside me, on top of me, behind me in doggy, and underneath me, as I finally fucked him on top, cowgirl style, with Elliott capturing it all with a massively pixelated camera. Then yes, I let Steve take me up my ass. He fucked me anally. Steve and I somehow managed to forget all about Jane H. and Elliott. We were lost in our own world of nostalgia sex.

I knew, at least by the time that Steve and I had gotten it on together for the fifth time, as day one blurred into day two in the Park Hyatt, that I was in love with Steve, all over again. My natural urges for self-preservation were keeping me from falling too deeply in love again, since I feared he would go back to his ivory tower and find yet another anal slut heiress to leave me for.

And what about Elliott? I had brought Jane Higgins to keep Steve happy and away from Elliott and me, but obviously, that plan had failed. It failed big time, and Elliott seemed more taken with Jane H. than he ever had been with me. So, I gave up, and once again I was Steve's girl. Jane was happy with Elliott, but I knew she couldn't wait to get back to Mr. Magoo, the human incarnation of a fucking machine, and -- when he wasn't in rape mode -- apparently a great guy, to boot.

Steve was just a mortal, and a sucker for anal sex, and now that I knew that, my ass was his. I gave Steve whatever he wanted, and he gave me his love, for the second time. It took some adjusting, and I was often in the digestive health section of Walgreen's, CVS, or Rite Aid, but a girl in love will do most anything for her man. And I did; I did it all.

I even let Elliott Branford III take digital pictures of Steve fucking my ass while he tortured my boobs, with me smiling throughout it. I posed naked in the window of the hotel, on the fourteenth floor, because Steve wanted me to do it. I even fucked Elliott a few times, on Steve's command. I was his sex toy, and he loved it. Jane H. was Elliott's sex toy, and Elliott of course loved that little fact, too.

Let's face it: There's no slut like a submissive Hoosier slut. Words for my epitaph.

After that wonderful visit with Steve and Elliott in Chicago, Jane and I returned to our humdrum, banal life at our university in Indiana. Jane Higgins got Magoo every day of the week except for Fridays, and Fridays he was mine, all mine. Mr. Magoo led quite a confused life, with Jane's boobs shrinking and growing, repeatedly, but ultimately, he didn't care. He got what he wanted, even if it took both of us, happily, to please him. And please him, we did. He never did seem to understand he was having an affair with two Janes at once.

Except on Fridays, which were reserved for a drunken Magoo, and Saturday afternoons which were often spent at student health for my perennially sore ass, with the occasional blowjob I ended up giving to the creepy student health doctor, I led a fairly normal life, dating Henry North IV.

Yep -- another man with a Roman numeral. Henry was a great guy, and he was good in bed (not great, but good enough for this girl), but I knew now that my heart (and my ass) belonged to Steve. Well, Steve and Magoo had to share my ass, even if neither of them knew it. My heart, however, was Steve's alone.

Elliott still reported to me about Steve. He was fooling around, of course, but so far there was no heiress he was serious about. I wondered about Spring Break. Steve and I had plans to meet up in Florida, with Elliott and Jane H.

Jane and I, both, were looking forward to that, all the more so because the luxury accommodations would be free to us, since Elliott was paying for everything. I could imagine us sunbathing topless on the hotel room's balcony. As it turned out, Steve and Elliott, both, had the exact same fantasy. Sometimes, things are just meant to be.