An Awkward Evening
We headed over to Panda Express to pick up supper. From there we walked to my dorm, so I could change clothes. As usual, Dave was there sitting at his computer. Today he had a headset on and was playing an online game. We heard him say he was logging off to get dinner.
“Damn, that food smells awesome,” he said, eyeing up or bag of Chinese take-out.
“There’s probably enough to share,” Connie suggested.
“No, that’s okay,” Dave said. “I had my heart set on a sub for dinner.” I started rummaging for clothes while Dave and Connie struck up a conversation.
“Are you from Temecula?” he asked.
“I am,” she replied with some surprise.
“I’m from Murrieta. Went to a lot of Temecula games. Your cheer squad was
pretty memorable.”
“Wait.. what?” I asked. “You were a cheerleader?”
“Is that so hard to imagine?”
“No. Not at all. It’s just...” I was stumbling for words.
“Just what?” she asked.
“I never thought a cheerleader would major in philosophy.”
“Right, we’re just dumb girls in short skirts.”
“You stepped into it there, bro,” Dave said.
“So you recognized her from high school?” I asked dave, trying to shift gears.
“Like I said, their squad was pretty memorable. Connie here most of all. Homecoming Queen, Belle of the Ball. Her boyfriend was a three-letter man, football, basketball, and baseball. Such a shame what happened.”
“What happened?” I asked.
Connie wasn’t looking too comfortable with the conversation, and Dave paused.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m being an ass.” Now Dave looked uncomfortable and quickly made his escape.
“Is there a mystery here?” I asked once we were alone.
“No. No mystery.” Her eyes were beginning to tear up and I wished I hadn’t asked.
“I’m surprised he remembered me.” she began.
“I’m not. You in a cheerleading outfit would be hard to forget!”
She gave me a slight smile.
“The boy’s name was Adam, and he was kind of the star of our class. We went together all through high school. Then the summer after graduation, he was killed in a car crash.”
She sat down on my bed before continuing.
“He was with his parents coming home from a Dodgers’ game. Drunk driver was at fault. Adam’s parents survived the accident. They were both wearing seat belts. Adam didn’t believe in them and he died at the scene.”
She paused for a moment and I had nothing to say, nothing to ask.
“I was supposed to be with them that night,” she continued. “That’s not quite true. I had been invited, but Adam and I were quarreling and I decided not to go. I guess I suffer from some sort of survivor's guilt.”
“I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“Yeah, well everybody has a story, right? We are still getting to know each other. Many stories to share. Much to learn.”
She looked at our bag of food. “Ready to head out?”
“Do you think I have time for a quick shower?” I asked.
“Sure. I’ll head over to my dorm & take a shower myself. Just bring the food
with you.”
“It’s going to get cold.”
“Twenty seconds in my microwave and it will be fine.”
She gave me a chaste kiss on the lips and then left me wondering about the tragic tale I had just learned.
When I arrived at Connie’s room, I was surprised to find her wearing just a towel.
“Just finishing your shower now?”
“No. I just wanted to be naked when you got here.”
She dropped the towel as soon as the door closed. She took the bag from me and made sure there was no metal to mess with the microwave.
“Take your clothes off and we’ll have a naked picnic.”
Soon we had a blanket spread on the floor, our food in front of us. On a dare, we tried to use chopsticks. I kept losing food that would land in my pubes where Connie would pick it up with her fingers and eat it.
“Good thing I had that shower,” I said.
“I wouldn’t care.”
I felt a slight stirring in my dick.
You know how when you meet a girl and she’s wearing revealing clothing, but you don’t want to get caught staring? You end up making a lot of eye contact. Trust me, it’s even worse when she’s naked. With the turmoil in my brain, the last thing I wanted to do was make eye contact. The question that kept echoing in my brain — what the fuck are you doing? — was one I needed to keep to myself. So where to look? Avoid the breast, certainly. The muff, unless there’s food to retrieve. I settled on her left ankle. Seemed safe enough.
“What are you looking at?”
“The most beautiful ankle on the planet.”
“Timothy, you sling the best bullshit. What’s so beautiful about it?”
“The shape. The curve. How it’s narrow in the back, broader in the front.”
“It’s boney.”
“Beautiful bones.”
“And my toes?” she asked wiggling them.
“Lovely, but no match for your ankle.”
“Then what about my calves?”
“Perfection.”
“Not too many freckles?”
“Never too many.”
“My thighs?”
“Beautiful.”
“I don’t like them.”
“Really?”
“Too thick. Too soft. I’ll probably develop cellulite.”
“I love your thighs. They feel wonderful against my face.”
She laughed. “And where my thighs come together?”
“The gateway to heaven.”
By now I was sporting the beginnings of an erection. Connie reached for another clump of rice that had fallen in my lap. In the
process, she grazed my budding erection and said, “He doesn’t look too worse for wear.”
I just smiled. Then she dipped a finger in some sauce and smeared it on a nipple.
“Oops.”
I cleaned it thoroughly with my tongue.
“You’re not the only one who’s a bit sore, you know. But maybe if we are very
gentle?”
We set our food aside and moved close to each other. Connie put her legs over mine, facing me and we moved until our most intimate parts were touching.
“Here’s where it gets a bit tricky,” she said, taking my dick in hand and moving it until the tip was just piercing her opening.
She drew in her breath.
“Okay? I asked.
“Gentle is the order of the day.”
Slowly but surely we eased my erection into her moist cleft. When it was in the whole way we sat still, facing each other.
“Why are you avoiding my eyes?” she asked.
I looked down to where we were connected. Looked at her lovely pink freckled breasts and then her lips, not smiling, but not frowning. Just a straight line drawn tightly across her face. And then those piercing green eyes, eyes that seemed to look right through me. Through any facade I might strive for. Seeing things I was trying to hide.
“Don’t look away,” she said.
I returned to her eyes.
“Are you thinking of me in my cheerleader outfit?”
I wasn’t, of course, but that sure made me smile. “I prefer your current outfit.”
She smiled back.
“You’ve said a lot of interesting things to me these couple of days.”
“I have?”
“Yes, and I’m wondering how much of it was flirty bullshit and how much of it you meant.”
“I stand by everything I’ve said.”
She squirmed against me. “At least a part of you is standing.”
“I keep telling myself, don’t fall for this guy. His heart belongs elsewhere.”
“Good advice,” I admitted.
“But when a guy tells you he finds you staggeringly beautiful, what is a girl to
think?”
“That you’ve found an honest man.”
“Then why haven’t I heard any of this before?”
“Maybe you’ve been with the wrong people?”
“Maybe.”
She slid back until my erection nearly came free, but then eased herself forward until I was fully captured.
“But does that make you the right person?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
“What if I text Angela and tell her we are skipping the party?”
“That would be fine by me.”
“You know, I think it really would be.”
This time I slid back, just a bit. And then pressed myself tight against her.
“We could just stay here and fuck until we truly couldn’t bear it anymore.”
“We can do that,” I agreed.
The whole time, I held her eyes and meant every single word. It wasn’t only that I wanted to cum. It wasn’t because I truly found her extraordinarily beautiful. But at that moment I did not want to be anywhere else or with anyone else. Realizing this left me even more confused. How is this possible?
Before I realized it, I had looked away.
She pulled my face back and kissed me deeply, all the while grinding into me. It was a long kiss. My hands were in her hair, stroking her back, tweaking her nipples.
We were rocking now, moving in harmony, building to a climax when her phone chimed. I wasn’t about to stop, but she stretched to reach her phone and said, “They’ve just left their apartment.”
“Tell her we changed our minds.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Maybe it’s because it would be too easy on you. Let you keep your emotions focused on the girl in hand.”
She was serious.
I moved in for a kiss, but she dodged me.
“I will not be taken advantage of,” she said with a laugh and slid back until my slimy erection was free and pointing at the ceiling.
“Think pure thoughts, my love.”
“That’s going to be very hard to do.”
She was up, pulling on clothes. Once she had her girls nestled in a lace bra she turned her back to me and asked, ”Hook me up?”
I did as requested, but said “I much prefer unfastening them.”
I was still naked when she was fully dressed.
“I will go without you!” she threatened, still smiling. Then she took the towel that was still moist from her shower and cleaned my erection, which was just now starting to fade.
“That’s really quite red,” she said, holding me by that little tuft of flesh from where my foreskin had been removed some 21 years ago.
“Let me put a little more cream on it.”
On the walk across campus, she asked me about my balls. “They’re fine,” I said tersely.
“Not too blue?”
“You know for a girl who claims to be quite innocent, you know a lot about the male anatomy.”
“Oh baby, I’ve been giving boys blue balls for years.”
I just shook my head in wonder. The way she looked. The way she walked. The way she must have looked in that tiny cheerleading skirt. I was certain she had given blue balls to a stadium full of men.
Angela was standing by the Prius as we walked up the sidewalk.
“Is she trying to impress us?” I asked.
“Trying to impress you, I’m sure.”
She was wearing a camisole tucked into a short denim skirt. A perfect look for a girl with long thin legs. As soon as she spotted us, she headed in our direction.
She went straight to Connie, giving her a warm embrace and a lingering kiss on the lips. Without releasing the embrace, she looked at me and said, “I’ve missed you.” Those few words were packed with meaning and made me light-headed.
“Don’t you two look collegiate?” Angela said, standing back to check us out. We were wearing matching SDSU sweatshirts over khaki: a skirt for her, cargo shorts for me.
“Aren’t you going to be cold later?” Connie asked.
“I have a half sweater in the car.”
“Half a sweater?” I asked.
“It’s called a cropped bolero cardigan.”
“Woo!”
“Twenty bucks on Amazon, so maybe not Woo-worthy.”
Once in the car, Mark said, “So coordinated outfits to announce you are
together?”
Connie laughed. “No way they will miss that fact,” and then pulled me in for an extended kiss. “We are in the heavy PDA phase, so be prepared to be embarrassed by us.”
“Duly warned.”
Angela gave Connie a look that I couldn’t decipher. Not exactly hostile, but far from friendly.
“We almost didn’t come.”
“Really?”
“My roommate is out of town for the weekend.”
That got a laugh out of Mark. “I guess that means you won’t be needing our
couch tonight.”
Connie turned to me, “So did you announce it on the Internet?”
“He told Angela. Pretty much the same thing.”
Doctor Watkins and his wife had a small house in the Hillcrest neighborhood of San Diego. The area had been a magnet for hipsters for decades and not what one would expect for a stuffy professor of philosophy. But then “call me Joe” was not all that stuffy. Nor was his wife, Giselle, who met them at the door and thanked Mark for bringing two bottles of fine wine, “and these lovely people.”
Academic parties were not like your typical college gatherings. No drinking games, no bedroom with a revolving door. They tend to devolve into little clutches of people talking shop, gossiping, or doing both at one time. Angela and I were always the odd ones out, which is why we often got into trouble.
“Try to not embarrass me tonight,” Mark said softly when Angela pulled me close.
“I’ll keep them in check,” Connie offered, although he seemed to take little comfort in that statement.
As for me, I had a beautiful woman on either side of me. I was doing fine. Except maybe for the few men scattered about who were giving me decidedly unfriendly stares.
“Why is that guy giving me stink-eye?” I asked Connie.
“Because he senses that you’ve been where he has tried and failed to go. You’ll get that look from more than one.”
“I need some air,” Angela announced and pulled me towards the door. The look she gave Connie caused her to stay behind.
“What the fuck, Timmy?”
I had no idea what she meant.
“Four times in one night?”
I had only left them alone together for five minutes and this is what they talked about?
“I can’t believe she told you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because she knows how I feel about you.”
“Yeah, well it feels like she’s staking her claim.”
“She told me she didn’t know what game you and I are playing, but that she wants to play with us.”
“That sounds childish. And a bit sleazy. I kind of like the sleazy part.”
We stepped aside to let a couple walking their dog pass. Then we embraced and kissed for a long time.
“Someone might see,” I said.
“Fuck ‘em.”
We kissed again and then started walking back to the house. “I wish I had the car keys with me. We could fuck in the car.”
“I’m a bit sore,” I offered.
“I’m not. I haven’t had sex since Monday afternoon.”
We let that thought just sit there the whole way back to the party. Once inside I excused myself and headed to the bathroom. In older homes, there’s no powder room. Maybe you get a master bedroom with an en-suite, and maybe not. But the bath in the hall is always a full bathroom.
Before I could close the door, both Connie and Angela came in behind me. “I just want to pee,” I said.
“Go ahead,” Angela said. “I want to see just how damaged it is.”
“And I just want to watch.”
I unzipped my cargo shorts and fished out my wounded soldier.
“Why is it so shiny?”
“Antiseptic cream,” Connie replied.
How I ever managed to get a flow going is beyond me. I’m not one for shy bladder usually, but then I don’t usually pee for an audience. As soon as I shook the last drops from my dick, Angela grabbed it.
“It looks fine to me.”
“It’s still a bit sore.”
“But serviceable?”
“Jesus Christ, Angela. It’s not a dildo.”
“Maybe let him put it away? We don’t want him walking around the party with an obvious erection.”
I was starting to get hard.
“I guess not,” Angela said, dropping my dick like it was something she picked up by accident.
“We are going to get some strange looks coming out of here.”
“Just touch your nose like you have the sniffles. Everyone will think we were doing coke or something.” That was Angela. There were a few people in the hall as we came out and we did indeed get some looks.
Later in the evening, Angela, Connie, and I were sitting at a table set up behind the house, enjoying the night air, drinking wine. Angela had donned her half-sweater and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. That short skirt, camisole top with a bolero cardigan. Adorable doesn’t even come close to it.
“That’s kinda creepy,” Connie said.
“What?”
“Bars on the windows.”
We looked at the house and indeed, there were bars on all the ground floor windows facing the patio where we sat.
“Joys of city life,” Angela offered.
Just then the door to the house opened and our host came out. Just-call-me-Joe was in his late 40s, sported a Van Dyke beard, short curly hair and wire rimmed glasses. He had an impish smile on his face.
“I just heard an intriguing story about you three.”
We had no response.
“The three of you together in my bathroom?”
“Oh,” I said. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries. I was just wondering if you had any more?”
“More?”
He put his hand to his nose and made a sniffing sound.
“That’s not what we were doing,” Connie said in a rush.
“Now that’s even more intriguing.”
The good professor pulled something from the pocket of his cardigan. A small stone pipe and a bag of weed. “Care to join me?”
We were all smiles.
He started the pipe and then passed it around the table. It was potent shit and I felt an immediate rush. It went around a second time before he asked us what we were really doing in his bathroom.
“I had to pee,” I said and started to giggle.
Connie was shaking with laughter but managed to say, “We watched.”
Angela was silent. She reached for the pipe and took a third hit.
“I once taught a class on the philosophy of sex. My wife said I managed to take the most interesting subject on earth and render it dull and boring.”
“I bet it was fascinating,” Connie said.
“It was well attended, despite Giselle’s opinion.”
At that moment, Mark came out. Sniffed the air and said, “Dr. Watkins, are you corrupting my friends or are they corrupting you?”
Everyone laughed, even me. You see I was facing a dilemma. Connie and I were sitting side by side, but Angela’s chair was facing the opposite direction. She had to twist quite a bit to look at the house or smoke the pipe. What no one had noticed, not even Connie, was that Angela had her hand up the leg of my shorts, and had been caressing my dick and balls for some time. Even Mark standing on the doorstep didn’t deter her.
What to do? In a few moments a tell-tale stain might appear on my shorts. And if not, there would be a pronounced bulge when I stood up.
Angela must have sensed this as she sped up her assault on my dick. Connie had been generous with the ointment earlier and Angela’s thumb rode the little nub on the underside of my glans. I did my best to sit still, my face buried in my hands as I came all over her hand.
She slowly slid her hand from under my shorts, trying to leave as much jiz behind as possible.
“Are you okay, Timothy?” Mark asked.
I just shook my head and said, “Dr. Joe has some serious weed, bro.” Everyone laughed.
Mrs. just-call-me-Joe was right behind Mark and the two of them joined us on
the patio. She seemed to be a little unsteady on her feet and held onto Mark for support.
“Has he been telling you about his philosophy of sex class?”
“How did you know?” Connie asked.
“He trots that out any time he’s high around a female audience.”
I looked around to see if I was invisible or not.
“Did he tell you the difference between the clitoris and the penis?”
“No,” I said, making sure she knew I was there. “He did not.”
“He’s got a quote from some long dead philosopher who said the clitoris exists just for pleasure, but the penis exists for both pleasure and procreation.”
“Does that mean the penis is inherently superior?” Mark asked.
“Not in my book,” said Angela with some force.
“Everyone else has left,” Mark observed. “I guess that’s our cue to hit the
road.”
“Are you okay to drive, sweetie?” Giselle asked him. She was holding onto him for dear life.
“Absolutely.”
“I’m glad to know someone is.”
Mark led her over to her husband and she dropped onto his lap. He seemed quite pleased so we made our exit before things got any more awkward.