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In my sophomore year of college, my parents were quite okay with me living with a female friend, but (obviously) Marie’s mom wasn’t as keen on her living with a guy, even one who wasn’t her boyfriend. I’m a pretty nice guy, though, and once she met me, Marie’s mom quickly warmed to the idea, and we signed the lease for our apartment.
While Marie’s mom was okay with me, she would have been rather displeased to learn that Marie’s boyfriend Matt was essentially living with us 95% of the time. I can only assume she was in denial, because after the two of them had been going out for a year, only some rather puritanical morals would have kept them apart.
I, on the other hand, didn’t have any such regular relationship. I went on dates when presented with a workable opportunity, but rarely had much success getting them into the bedroom. I did have several female friends, but none of the with-benefits variety. So when my friend Rachel was visiting, I was expecting to converse and watch movies, not really anything else. Rachel went to school out-of-state, but her summer break ended a few weeks after my school started, so she was visiting me for a couple of days after Melissa and I (and Matt) had settled into the new place.
Rachel and I met in high school, and somehow got along even though we were completely opposite types of nerd. She’s really into music, particularly singing, whereas I don’t even like going to concerts (too loud, too crowded, and I’m a miser to boot). She really likes nature; I prefer concrete. Rachel could easily be mistaken for a hippie if she weren’t so damnably impossible to label, and the intuitive or irrational instincts that accompany that generalization always ran amusingly into my rationality and pragmatism, even in simple things like planning when to get together. (Ironically, she was a science major, whereas I went into the ‘soft’ social sciences.)
We met each other with a big hug at my door, and I carried her stuff inside (one of our other ongoing amusements was that she took tons of stuff everywhere, whereas you could hardly tell someone lived in my room). “I missed you, Vic.”
“I missed you, too, Rachel,” I said as we sat down facing each other on the edge of my bed. “How was your trip?”
“The same as every other trip through nowhere land.” She caught my eyes and quickly reversed directions. “Oh, yeah, you mean my vacation before this. Yeah, that was really good. I hadn’t been camping before, but I liked being outside with the folks for a few days. I know it would drive you nuts, and I guess I’d get tired of it after much longer than I was there. Fortunately, my dad didn’t say very much to me, so it wasn’t ruined by that.”
We discussed details of her trip, including her awkward midnight stroll past her older brother and his fiancee having sex in a clearing. Eventually, she started questioning me about my uneventful life. “Truth be told, it’s been the same as always for me, Rachel.”
“Still no action?”
“No, no such luck. The last time a lady deigned to assist me was about eight months ago.”
She smiled at my euphemism. “Wow, even longer than me. I’m so horny, I’m either going to become frigid or nymphomaniacal sooner than later.” Seeing as I thought Rachel was attractively thin and gifted with a gorgeous smile as well, I voted for the latter. When I vocalized my ballot, she hit me with a pillow, but it was worth it. “Keep your comments to yourself, mister. Remember that our imminent marriage is a business relationship, only.”
Rachel and I had months ago started a semi-joke, semi-hypothetical about getting married after college. We alluded to it frequently, especially since it gave us a good excuse to create in-depth hypothetical futures, and if there was one thing we both liked to think about, it was where we were going and how to get there.
The sexiest thing that happened before we went to sleep was me feeling her bra strap through her shirt when I gave her a back rub while we watched a romantic comedy on my computer. Say what you will about letting the girl pick the most emasculating movie available, I was still the one with my hands on her, and she did moan—just not quite how I’d like her to.
The “When Harry Met Sally” truism that a man and a woman Kıbrıs Escort can’t ever really be friends because the man always wants to screw the woman certainly applied in my life. My lady friends were quite attractive as a group. I’m not about to pretend that it’s coincidental, either; in high school and college I typically only invested any effort at all if the girl appealed to me on that nerdy-pretty level. Of course, with no sex involved, I wouldn’t keep them around if they weren’t also smart and fun to talk to. Whether it be Rachel, Lynn, Julie, Marie, or another friend, I was pretty sure none of them were going to suddenly see the light and jump me.
Early on, when I was a lot younger and dumber, I had professed my undying love to Julie, and she had shrugged it off; somehow she didn’t shrug me off at the same time, and we remain close friends. That was pretty much the only time I made a move on someone who’d already firmly locked me in with a “friend” label. Ever since, my female friends have acted as sounding boards and sources of insight, as well as a way to quash that creeping loneliness that you can hardly avoid as a nigh-perpetual bachelor who doesn’t participate in the world of collegiate one night stands.
Fortunately for my fantasy life, Marie and Matt were usually in the living room of our apartment until ridiculously late, so Rachel couldn’t sleep on the couch. My room’s double bed had room for both of us without touching, but Rachel was definitely my most tactile friend, so she snuggled up to me wearing her tank top and boxers. I put my arm around her casually, and we drifted off spooning.
Probably a few hours later, I extracted myself from Vic’s gentle arm and smiled at him as I left to go to the bathroom. I had woken up from a pretty hot dream when Vic’s erection pressed against me one too many times, but just because Marie and Matt had abandoned the living room didn’t mean I wasn’t going to return to Vic. His proximity was quite welcome and comforting in my long season of deprivation. To be honest, I rarely masturbate (it’s just not the same as when someone else is the stimulus), and I’m picky about what guys I’ll give anything to, so it’s my own fault if I’m in overdrive.
Cuddling was just teasing my body’s expectation for procreation, but Vic was so good at making me feel relaxed that I didn’t have the willpower to turn toward the couch instead of his room. Besides, it’s not like he didn’t enjoy it. I was aware of his attraction toward me, and I didn’t mind. I was a biology major; to me it wasn’t even something he had control over feeling, just control over doing, and in Vic’s case, I trusted that control completely. I would have been disappointed if my body _didn’t_ earn a physical lust from him.
On the short way back to Vic’s room, I heard an odd sound. As I tilted my head to home in on its direction, I definitely could hear it coming from Melissa’s room. Getting closer, I was less than surprised to hear the gasping and furniture-shaking that implied just one thing. The people I lived near at college were typically more discreet than this, so it was a rare occasion for me to be able to listen in. It was certainly impossible to tell which one of them was moaning, and unfortunately the door didn’t even have a crack in it, but they were becoming progressively louder. Whether they assumed Vic and I were out cold or they just didn’t care if anyone nearby knew what was happening, they weren’t making it secret.
I was, of course, getting rather moist listening. If I didn’t cum, I knew I wouldn’t be able to get to sleep for an hour. Plus, I was panting with arousal. If I went back to Vic like that, it would be awkward. He might be a man, but that didn’t preclude the use of the organ between his ears as a supplement to his more important head. As I rationalized this, my left hand massaged my nipple, and my right hand slid into my pajama boxers to find my clit. Obviously I wasn’t taking my time, but I will admit that I didn’t hurry as much as my rational side suggested I do while eavesdropping on a couple’s love life right by my friend’s bedroom door. It was probably about ten minutes from the time I stood up that I felt my body shake in ecstasy.
Of course, it was less Kıbrıs Escort Bayan than two seconds after that that my luck depleted and Vic’s door opened.
There I was, exposed nipple in one hand, obvious things instigated in my pants by the other, and I’m so surprised that I forget I was planning to be really quiet. Just as my moan broke the semi-silence of the rustling cotton around my hands and door-stifled gasps loudly enough to be unmistakable, Vic leaped into action. His right hand tilted my lips into collision with his, while his left gently seized my torso and pulled it with him, continuing the lip lock right into his room, where he shut the door. Needless to say, not quite what I was predicting.
My orgasm continued through most of the long moments Vic was kissing me, and when he made eye contact again after closing the door, both of our eyes communicated surprise. He made several false starts at an apology, while it slowly occurred to my hormone-flooded brain that since Vic lost a lot of weight about a year ago, his body was much more firmly put together. He wasn’t about to start a male modeling career, but I could see muscles through his t-shirt.
He probably thought my staring at him for such an extended period was a sign of my anger, but in reality I was trying as hard as my rational side could to think of a reason why I shouldn’t go for it. Obviously, if we did anything once, we’d probably do it again, and of course that could make it difficult to remain friends if one of us wanted to stop (yeah, by “one of us”, I mean just me; I know that no man ends a source of sex unless he’s getting rid of a girl he doesn’t want to maintain emotionally anymore). Of course, as my thoughts progressed, I remembered little things that we already did. Vic often made innuendos; he frequently touched me casually; he glanced not-so-surreptitiously at my body. As for me, I let him do those things even when I wasn’t going through a sexual dry spell, because I liked it and I trusted him. None of it had made things awkward in our case. And we had agreed in previous conversations that most people make too big an emotional deal out of sex. For me, it was important that the guy’s personality be high-quality and worth caring about, if only so no sleaze could ever point to me and honestly say he’d been there. For Vic, the priority was that she be disease-free. I’d known Vic long enough to consider him the highest-quality guy I knew, and he’d known me long enough to know my complete sexual history.
All that ran through my brain in a matter of seconds, during which Vic became more apologetic. As I came to my conclusion, I let a smile spread across my face, stepped across the gap between us, and put my index finger to his lips. “Rachel, I…”
“Shut up, Vic. Just let this happen. I need it.” Then I pulled his face down to meet mine again. Once our lips were fastened together, I let my hands drift down his chest, lifting his shirt off on the return trip. Vic’s chest was evidence of his hirsute masculinity, and I immediately wrapped my arms around him to start marauding across his back, pressing my tank top-clad breasts and abs into him.
When his eyebrows settled down into the reality of the situation, his hands immediately slid down my back to grope my ass, pulling my hips against his. As the clothing covering his equipment rubbed against mine, the excitement elicited another big moan against his lips. Next, I slid my hands into the waistband of his pajama pants, tugging them down past his erection, toward the floor. I backed away my face from the kiss and started to move down toward his stiff organ, but Vic kept me standing.
“Rule number one, Rachel: you always get to be first.” His hands gently pulled my tank top up over my head, and as I didn’t wear a bra to sleep, my breasts were exposed. Vic pulled our bodies together again, this time with a lot more skin, and started kissing my neck. I moaned as his hands traveled down my back and his thumbs took hold of my boxers and panties, sweeping them over my hips, after which they tumbled on their own to the floor. Standing naked with each other was intensely erotic; Vic’s cock poked into my abs pleasantly.
He gently urged me down onto the edge of the bed, kneeing Escort Kıbrıs between my legs. He lifted my thighs onto his shoulders, encouraging me to lay my back flat as he went to work. Once I was laid back, his hands slid along my body from thighs to breasts and back again twice, finally settling on my breasts, where he started playing with my nipples. Meanwhile, he had kissed both thighs, and was just beginning to kiss my bush with his lips, not his tongue yet.
That changed when I let out a moan in response to his initial efforts. Immediately, he fixed onto my clit and wagged his tongue over it repeatedly. I was so surprised that my abs contracted, causing me to nearly sit up, but his hands on my breasts pushed me back down as he continued to maneuver his tongue. Just when I was expecting him to settle into a rhythm, he brought his right hand back from my breast to between my legs, and began to insert two fingers. Of course, once they got in and he tapped my sensitive spots while tonguing my clit, I exploded. I was expecting it to take longer to get there, but as the welcome sensation spread, I lost track of my thoughts.
It occurred to me: why didn’t I do this a long time ago? And as that was drifting through my post-coital brain, Vic stopped his stimulation and moved to lay beside me on the bed. I cheerfully smiled at him. “You drained me pretty well there, champ.”
“Glad to hear it.” He looked justifiably pleased with himself. We stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments, until I decided to complete the evening’s surprise turn of events. I maintained eye contact as I moved onto all fours over Vic’s body, then backed up until my mouth was just a handful of centimeters from his rapidly reappearing erection. It had been quite a while since I had done this, but I had the gist of it pretty firmly understood.
I took most of the shaft into my mouth quickly, pulling back including pulling the uncircumsized foreskin forward, then I dove back down, pulling the skin with me. Basically, it was the wet, warm version of a handjob. My neck obviously couldn’t move as fast as my hand, but I held my head in place and instead moved my body up and down with my arms, increasing the overall motion. This also made my breasts move around a lot, which a previous boob-obsessed guy told me was the best visual part of sex.
I was turned on by the idea of how purely sexual a blowjob is, but unlike some imaginary girls in guys’ fantasies, I wasn’t even close to orgasm from the act. I was focused on Vic’s pleasure, just like he focused on mine so well a few minutes before.
“Ohhhh, Rachel…” Vic clearly wasn’t much of a sex talker, so I took that as a sign he was getting closer. I continued basically the same motion as his hips started to rock a little to accelerate the friction that last bit. His hand stroked through my hair and he grunted what may have been intended as a warning, but his head couldn’t make it into words at the time. I knew what he meant, though, and didn’t care, except to make the last few strokes as swift as I could.
When he came, I could feel and see his muscles tense up, and his cum fill my mouth. I maintained the motion back and forth over the head to coax more out of him, until he finally relaxed and settled back onto the bed. I released him, and noted that he was still mostly erect, which might come in handy for some future activity. For now, though, I was beat. I was reminded that it was still the middle of the night by a nearby clock’s glowing digits.
First, I had to ask, as I laid next to Vic, head propped up on my elbow, “Vic, are you okay with this?” Despite my earlier thinking about how no man ends a source of sex without extreme aggravation, we had been friends for years. I couldn’t help my worrying.
In another unexpected move, Vic burst into quiet laughter for a moment before answering. “Rachel, I hope you’ve noticed by now, but FYI: I’m a man. You’re a babe. Just because I love you as a friend doesn’t mean you don’t still appeal to me in the visual, sexual way your body does to every guy with an ounce of taste or testosterone.
“I don’t know if you want this to mean anything, or to happen again, or what, but I do want you to know that I’m open to all those possibilities, because I know you, and I know that any relationship with you is better than no relationship.”
I smiled at him, put the thinking part of me on the back burner for a little while until I’d thought it over more, and cozied up our naked bodies against each other for the night.
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