Zephyr

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Paygathoras student has very sexy revenge on roommate.
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JimBob44
JimBob44
5,030 Followers

*Author's Note: Any persons engaging in consensual sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Chapter 1

Bobby Boudreaux smirked at the 'Nerds, Dorks, and Losers' that gathered in the living room of his apartment. The group of them was all students at the university, except for Derek, his roommate. Derek was a graduate student, studying for his doctorate in Mathematics and Sciences, even though he was the same age as nearly everyone else in the living room. Except for Greg. Greg was a twenty nine year old veteran, having served in Afghanistan. Bobby thought he was weird, wanting to hang out with twenty and twenty one year olds. Actually he thought all of them were weird.

"Boudreaux, rent," Derek called out, reminding Bobby that he was already three months behind on rent.

Bobby gave Derek the finger and continued on to his room.

When Derek had posted the notice on the dormitory's bulletin board that he was looking for a roommate to share the expenses of a two bedroom, one bathroom apartment, Bobby had torn the notice from the board before anyone else could see it. The twenty year old had been looking for a way out of the depressing, gloomy, overcrowded dormitory and, thanks to a very vocal cheerleader; he'd been blacklisted from every fraternity on campus.

He had known that Cherri was the girlfriend of the president of the local chapter of Omega Sigma Mu, but that had mattered little to him.

Cherri was standing in the hallway, looking completely fuckable in her cheerleader uniform. Her blonde hair was tied up into two ponytails, 'handlebars' for a blowjob and he wanted her. He came up behind her, let her feel his nine inches of man meat pressing into her back, and whispered that his tongue was just as skilled as his cock.

Fortunately for him, Cherri had drunk enough of the party mix to be suggestible. Unfortunately for him, Cherri was a screamer, alerting everyone in the frat house that Bobby's tongue was indeed a very talented tongue.

Derek looked over Bobby's application, let him know he'd be in touch, and waited for more applicants. None ever came, so Derek was forced to give the arrogant, conceited, condescending Bobby the green light. As a teacher's aide and part-time tutor, Derek did not make enough money to afford an apartment on his own.

Bobby gave Derek the first month's rent, then decided that Derek could go fuck himself if he expected to see any more money out of him. They were also supposed to share the utilities, but Derek had yet to see a penny of money from Bobby for that either. Food expenses were supposed to be their own responsibility, but Bobby ate whatever he pleased and saw no reason to ever repay Derek or replace it.

Bobby flopped down on his bed and turned on his stereo. Morbid Angel ought to drive the Geek Group out of the apartment.

Derek got to his feet, walked to the panel in the hallway and through the breaker for Bobby's room.

"Hey, mother fucker!" Bobby yelled as his stereo died and his room was plunged into darkness.

"Uh, listen, Derek, it's getting kind of late," Terri said and gathered up her books.

"Yeah, uh, late," Sam echoed and helped the overweight Terri to her feet.

The two girls, roommates, walked to the door and left the apartment.

"Yeah, hey, we're going down to Hunter's, what about you?" Warren asked.

"Love to, totally broke," Derek groused.

"Oh yeah?" Tamara asked and elbowed him, hard in his ribs. "What you going down to Hunter's for?"

Hunter's was a strip club that hired a good number of its dancers from the college and from the college dropouts. Full nudity was displayed inside the dark building; touching was off-limits. Of course, what went on in the 'Champagne Room,' the exclusive room that three hundred dollar bought the patrons that was another story. If the dancer was okay with being touched, then touching was okay. Those that could afford the half-hour room did not balk at the opportunity to spend a half-hour with a nubile eighteen, nineteen or twenty year old girl.

"Hey, you see a ring on this finger?" Derek asked, showing Tamara his left hand. "No ring? I can look."

"Come on, Warren; they want to be alone," Greg snickered.

"What the fuck happened?" Bobby demanded as the door closed behind Greg and Warren.

"Gee, I don't know," Derek feigned ignorance. "You forget to pay the electric bill?"

"Funny, cock sucker," Bobby groused and flipped the switch on the circuit panel, flooding the apartment with the loud cacophony of the heavy metal group.

"Turn that shit down," Derek yelled.

"Kiss my ass, loser," Bobby sneered.

"Get rid of him," Tamara demanded.

"Uh huh," Derek agreed.

"I mean it; your problem is, you're too nice. When's the last time he's paid anything?" Tamara went on.

"Um, let's see, never," Derek, admitted.

"So why you put up wit him?" she asked.

"Don't know," Derek admitted. "Greg's all hot to move in, but I can't have him move in until Bobby's out."

They cuddled up on the ratty old couch, kissing and whispering to each other. She froze when his hand strayed too close to her small breast, and then quickly got to her feet.

Derek respected the fact that Tamara had some very deep scars; any sort of sexual conduct brought on feelings of shame and revulsion in her.

She'd been molested by a next door neighbor, and when her father found out, instead of coming to his daughter's aid, started molesting her himself. Even after extensive therapy, Tamara believed that she had somehow brought it on herself, that she was to blame. She had not shared any of this with Derek, but it was obvious to the sensitive young man that Tamara had issues.

She was very short, only four feet, ten inches, with long brown hair and big brown eyes and a shy smile. Her breasts, what Derek could surmise; she always wore very baggy tops, were very nice, just about a handful. Her backside was nicely rounded as well. If she ever broke out of her shell of shame and dolled up, Tamara would be a very sexy little woman.

Derek hoped that engagement, or marriage would break the twenty year old out of her shell; he had the engagement ring in his dresser drawer.

****

"Hey Witchie-poo," Bobby taunted. "Where's the rest of the coven? Out flying on their booms?"

When he'd first moved in, Derek had tried to explain to Bobby the teachings of Pygathoras and the discussion group comprised of Greg, Warren, Samantha, Terri, Scott, and Tamara. All Bobby had retained from that, however, was the mythological beliefs that surrounded the philosopher and scientist. To Bobby, Mythology and witchcraft went hand in hand, so he labeled Derek as a witch.

"No witchcraft to it," Derek smiled sympathetically. "All things are related to numbers and equations; any alterations of those numbers alters the relationship and may or may not affect the equation as well, but not exclusively so. Some alterations do not alter the equation, just the integers"

"Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble," Bobby laughed.

"Hey, bitch, that's mine," Derek said as Bobby helped himself to a big bowl of cereal.

"Yeah?" Bobby sneered. "What'm I supposed to do? Already poured the milk, but if you want..."

Bobby moved to pour the bowl back into the box. Derek pulled the box out of Bobby's hand.

"Fine, fucker, you got one week, seven days to come up with the fucking rent or your ass is out of here," Derek said.

"Uh huh," Bobby smirked, eating the cereal.

"I'm serious, dude," Derek threatened. "One week, seven days, next Monday, or your shit's going out in the parking lot and I'm changing the fucking lock."

"Touch my fucking shit and I'll fucking kill you," Bobby threatened, not smiling.

"Whatever," Derek said.

"Hey, there anything to eat?" Brandee asked, scratching her rear end as she staggered into the kitchen.

She was unmindful that this maneuver raised the hem of her tee shirt, exposing her blonde curls to Derek and Bobby. Bobby shoved the box of cereal toward the girl.

"Hi," she said brightly to Derek. "I'm Brandee. That's with two 'E's."

"Uh huh," Derek said.

This one was typical of the girls Bobby seemed to pick up with ease. Very large breasts, very slender waist, and almost no thought pattern.

He was jealous; he had to admit it. Bobby was extremely good looking, with his curly brown hair, dimpled smile and hazel eyes. At six feet and three inches, Bobby commanded attention almost everywhere he went.

Derek, on the other hand, was average. Average in nearly every way, except for his high intelligence. He was five foot nine, one hundred and fifty two pounds. His hair was a drab brown, his eyes were a drab brown, and his skin was sometimes prone to acne. Some would call him cute; others would term him as plain, ordinary.

If it hadn't been for a silly drinking game in his freshmen year at the university, Derek would still be a virgin.

Chapter 2

It was Friday night; Derek had earned a little extra money tutoring a high school student that was hoping to pull his grades up so the university would accept him. To celebrate, and to get away from Bobby and Bobby's unbearable music, he'd decided to tag along with Warren and Greg as they went to Hunter's.

"Aw, yeah, holy fucking shit!" he enthused as a very large breasted girl wiggled and jiggled in front of the trio.

He fished out another dollar bill and the girl smiled vacantly at him.

"Hey, Derek here?" Tamara asked.

"Bobby smiled; Tamara was obviously drunk, or stoned. Her speech was slurred and even as she tried to stand still, was wobbling back and forth.

"No, no, but he should be back soon, come on in," Bobby said.

Tamara staggered in and went to the couch. Bobby closed the door and smiled widely.

He'd been unable to come up with much money. Eighty dollars was all he'd been able to scrounge up. Brandee, or Bambee, or whatever the fuck her name was had complained when she caught him digging through her purse. Theresa likewise had refused to give him any money, so he had to take it. But he knew Derek was serious about kicking him out; Derek had showed him the application he'd filled out and showed him his own initials signifying that he understood he was responsible for his half of the rent, or he would be evicted. Fucking his roommate's girlfriend would be sweet; he might not have a place to live in a few days, but he'd always be able to hold that over Derek's head.

Bobby made Tamara nervous; he was a sociopath, he was a lot like her father. She had to admit, Bobby was very good looking; she often found herself thinking of him when she was kissing Derek.

But she did not like the way he was looking at her and smiling right now. The alcohol that she'd drank, drank to relieve her of the inhibitions, to let Derek touch her began to sour in her stomach.

"Uh, hey, maybe I better go," she said and hoisted herself, with great effort, to her feet.

"What?" Bobby smiled. "Why? You just got here!"

"Yeah, well, I kind have expected Derek to be..." she mumbled and tried to get to the door.

"Aw, fuck that little fucking geek!" Bobby said, losing his smile.

"Um, let me go," Tamara begged as he blocked her exit.

"Too sweet!" Derek commented to the African American girl, pointing to her curls that had been shaved into a heart.

"You like that?" she smiled. "I believe in love, everything's all about love, you know?"

"Uh huh, well, I love that," Derek said and gave her a dollar bill.

"No, Bobby, please!" Tamara begged as Bobby dragged her into Derek's bedroom and shoved her onto the bed.

He hadn't intended to be so rough with her, but when she shoved him, she made him mad. He knew she was smart; Derek had said that her IQ had tested out at one hundred and sixty one points, but she'd mumbled something about him being stupid, and then shoved him.

She sobbed 'no' repeatedly as Bobby pulled her jeans off. When he finished, she lay, almost catatonic as he laughed at her.

Bobby looked around Derek's room; he'd never come in here before. He then went to the dresser and yanked a drawer open. That yielded a few hundred-dollar bills and a nice looking diamond ring, still in the jeweler's box. A search through the other drawers found nothing of interest to him.

Tamara's purse also netted him seventy-two dollars. He resisted the urge to spit on her as she quietly sobbed, curled up in a fetal position on Derek's unmade bed.

"Thanks, bitch, been great," Bobby laughed and left the room.

He grabbed his shoes and then left the apartment.

Derek finished the flat beer; he really wasn't much of a drinker, then left the bar. Greg and Warren stayed behind; they still had plenty of dollar bills to spread among the very attractive wares that Hunter's had to offer.

He saw Tamara leaving his apartment just as he came up the flight of stairs. Her eyes met his and she screamed, then pushed past him and ran down the stairs.

"Tamara! Wait," he called out after her. "What's wrong?"

No!" she screamed and kept running.

He entered the apartment, and then went into his bedroom.

His dresser drawer was open. A quick look inside showed him that his rent money and more importantly, his engagement ring had been taken. Tamara may be guilty of taking the ring, but not the money, even though he did owe her a few hundred dollars from when he was short the needed funds.

He walked over to the computer and jiggled the mouse to get the screensaver off of it. Typing rapidly, he pulled up the spy-cam's image and scrolled back thirty minutes.

His anger boiled over as he watched his roommate rape his girlfriend. A cold hatred descended on him as he watched Bobby help himself to the rent money and the engagement ring. The ball of bile in his stomach as he watched Bobby help himself to Tamara's wallet; after raping her, after stealing from him, he had the gall to also steal from her.

"Mother fucker, you crossed the wrong guy for the last fucking time," Derek said. "Let's see how you like being helpless, defenseless."

****

The pawnshop owner was sympathetic as the good-looking guy told him a tale of woe; bought the ring to give to the woman he loved, and then caught her in bed with his roommate. The ring was a very nice one, worth at least two thousand dollars.

"Four hundred," he offered.

"Aw, come on man!" Bobby said. "I paid nineteen hundred for it!"

"Then take it back to where you bought it," the guy shrugged his shoulders.

"Fine, fine, just take the fucking thing," Bobby grumbled.

The Sahara was, in Bobby's opinion, a lot nicer than Hunter's. Same college girls, but The Sahara was almost exclusively blondes. There were also a few Asian Americans, but Pat only hired them if they were blessed with large breasts.

Tiffany was a typical dancer at The Sahara. Even though her breasts were fake, you could hardly tell. Her waist was a mere twenty-four inches around and her hips were twenty-eight inches. Her blonde hair fell down in ringlets to the middle of her back and her long eyelashes fluttered as she wiggled and swayed. She almost looked innocent, child-like, as she approached the tall, good looking young man's table.

"Hi, I'm Tiffany," she cooed. "Like a table dance?"

"Nah, I'd like to fuck you," Bobby said and she giggled and slapped his arm playfully.

"Oh, you're a bad boy, aren't you?" she giggled and shook her breasts enticingly.

"How much?" Bobby asked, never taking his eyes off of her pneumatic breasts.

"Thirty for a table dance," Tiffany said and prepared to get onto the table.

"Yeah, what the fuck," Bobby agreed and fished out his money clip, making sure she saw the hundred dollar bills on top.

****

Tamara thought very seriously about slitting her wrists, of just bleeding to death, of just ending all her torment and turmoil. Her cell phone buzzed again and she wanted to scream. Derek had been calling non-stop, trying to reach her.

She couldn't tell him. If she told him, he'd want to go to the police. If they went to the police, she'd have to admit she had been drunk. All Bobby would have to say was that she wanted it but had been too drunk to remember asking for it. She was trapped, all over again.

When she'd went to her daddy to tell him about what Mr. Hebert had done, her daddy wanted her to show him specifically. She did and then Daddy started to do it too. She had been trapped, unable to go to anyone for help.

****

Tiffany giggled and cooed and simpered as Bobby drove her car to his apartment. She leaned against him as he unlocked the apartment door, and then blinked when the lights suddenly came on.

"Dude, where's the ring?" Derek demanded.

"Ring?" Bobby smirked. "What ring?"

"Dude, don't make me call the fucking cops," Derek said.

"Aw, go ahead, call the fucking cops," Bobby sneered.

"Dude, I am warning you for the last fucking time," Derek warned. "All things are related to numbers and you ain't going to like the way yours stack up."

"Witchie-poo is like this a Pygathorian Wizard," Bobby explained to Tiffany. "Thinks he can add up two plus x and y and control the world."

"Pygathorium, like Pygathoras?" Tiffany asked Derek. "The philosopher?"

"Yeah," Derek smirked at Bobby, and then slammed his bedroom door shut.

"Your roommate's cute," Tiffany said to bobby as he hustled her down the hall to his bedroom.

She was a vocal lover; Bobby couldn't help but wonder if some of it was for Derek's benefit. Bobby laughed out loud when she looked up at him in awe as Bobby shoved all nine inches into her pussy, and then held it there.

"Oh my fucking God!" she screamed out and came violently.

"Yeah, baby," he laughed and began thrusting in and out of her.

He didn't care if they came or not. It but his ego did like it when they did. He also liked it because it meant they would tell their friends and their friends would want a little of Bobby's dick too. Sometimes he'd get them and their friends in bed; that was always sweet.

But if they didn't come, that was fine with him too. Just as long as he came.

Chapter 3

The need to empty his bladder woke him up and he staggered out of bed. Tiffany stirred slightly, and then rolled over, away from him. He padded, still nude, to the bathroom.

He also needed to empty his bowels, so he flopped down on the commode, not bothering to shut the bathroom door. If it bothered Derek, that was Derek's problem. While he did so, he absently scratched his breast and shivered pleasantly as his long fingernail raked over his nipple, which was getting hard in the chill of the air-conditioning.

He did not bother to flush the toilet; knowing this was yet another one of Derek's pet peeves.

He staggered, still half asleep, back to his bedroom and slid back into the bed. It bothered him slightly that Tiffany had not left already; she would probably be the clingy type, the type that thought they had something special just because he had given her a good time.

She stirred, rolled over and smiled at him. The smile froze.

"Oh shit!" Tiffany squeaked. "Aw fuck, I can't believe this shit! I fucking did it again?"

"Yeah, looks that way," Bobby said in a high-pitched voice, relieved.

Okay, so she wasn't the clingy type. She was the type that had a few drinks, fell into a guy's bed, and then regretted it the next day. He'd say all the right things to reassure her that he didn't think she was a total slut and he'd be rid of her.

"Look, sister, it's not like I'm this big fucking dyke," Tiffany babbled as she slithered out of the bed and frantically began dressing. "God damn it! I fucking hate when this shit happens!"

She hopped, trying to put on her jeans and her sandals at the same time.

"Fuck!" Tiffany complained. "Look, there's nothing wrong with being gay, or bi, or whatever the fuck you are, but I'm not, all right? It's just that, every now and then, I get soooo fucking trashed and then one of you rug munchers comes along and next thing I know... Uh hey, where's the bathroom?"

JimBob44
JimBob44
5,030 Followers