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Please remember, as with all my stories, should you be looking for ‘Realism’, just move on. I aim for ‘Ridiculously Plausible’. All named characters in this story are eighteen or much older.
This one is a slow burn, and it is a one-off, guys and gals, unless someone has a really great idea for me on how to move beyond this finale.
———-
My last class on Wednesdays let out at 4:15, but I had hung out for a few minutes with another student to argue with our professor about a point she had made during the discussion that afternoon. Both my friend Cassie and I felt that the woman needed to know that she was just flat wrong, but didn’t want to waste our classmates’ time with our corrective input. Fifteen predictably unproductive minutes later, our professor remained impervious to our superior arguments, and we finally despaired of fixing her.
My friend peeled off to head for her newer, more luxurious dorm, and I carded myself into the aging Stenson Hall, wherein lay my own, less expensive, lair. I stopped to stomp the unseasonably late snow off my boots in the entry, then briskly hopped up the stairs to the second floor and ambled down the hall. I was in a good mood. I had a fun argument under my belt already that day, and my homework situation was about a chill as it ever got.
Two rooms before I reached my own, I saw the door to 210 standing open. The cultural rule at my university is that if you leave your door open, it is an invitation to one and all to drop in and hang out. If you find a door closed, but you still want to talk to the inhabitant(s), you knock, and wait. No answer, you move on. About a third of doors were open at any given time. I had passed several to get to this point in the hall.
I did not pass 210, however. Instead I swung in. 210 was the abode of Lisa and Lee. Both were sophomores like me, and both were good friends, and near continuous obsessions, of mine. I paused in the doorway and rapped on the frame. “Everybody decent in here?” I called as I came on in.
“Fully clothed!” sang out Lee cheerily.
“Shucks. Life is a continuous series of disappointments,” I grumbled as I passed their closets flanking the entrance and stopped in the middle of the room. The two of them shot a look at each other. That was honestly about the most flirty I ever got with these two girls, but not because I wasn’t interested. Far, far from it.
Lisa was sitting on her bed against the left wall, her legs crossed. The dorm rooms in Stenson are chronically kept at a wastefully, uncomfortably, warm temperature. Therefore, despite the late spring snow outside, Lisa was wearing athletic shorts. That suited me fine, as it afforded me a great view of her crossed, tauntingly athletic legs. Her naturally platinum blonde bangs hung down over her face as she twisted to the left to type furiously on the laptop sitting upon the bed next to her. She looked up at me briefly, an absent-minded but brilliant smile flashing into view. She muttered, “Hello, George,” and she went back to banging away on her keyboard, obviously completing a thought.
Lee was likewise sitting on her bed against the opposite wall, propped up against the veritable mountain of pillows she always kept there. She held a copy of The Invisible Man loosely in her hand in a gesture that clearly indicated that she’d prefer talking to me, or probably even a wall, over reading that book. She laid it open but face-down on the beautiful, half-shade darker than café au lait skin of her leg. She too was wearing shorts. Lee habitually wore her shorts almost to the knee however, as if she didn’t like inviting comparisons to Lisa’s toned masterpieces. Privately, I thought that ridiculous. Lee might not have the sculpted limbs of the nationally ranked skier that Lisa was, but her softer, curvier legs and ass were equally enticing, if differently so. She was mixed-race, and I mean really mixed-race. In just the prior three generations of her family, she boasted ancestors from the continent of Africa, two distinct parts of Asia, and Mexico, along with that most exotic of ethnicities: 14th generation Connecticut WASP. It seemed like the fates had decided to combine in Lee the most striking elements of each of her heritages. Not always the most ‘classically’ beautiful elements, mind you, but the most striking.
It should be obvious that I had the hots for both of them. And that was my problem.
Neither had much history of boyfriends in the time that I had known them. Both were wildly attractive to me, if in different ways. Both were happy, funny, smart, and charismatic. And both liked me, in what seemed like the best (worst) tradition of Platonic friendship. I wanted to change that. I wanted very much to ask one or the other of them out, and had wanted to since I had met them both the first day of the fall semester.
But which one?
“Are you going to the concert Friday night, George?” Lisa asked as I dropped my book bag and flopped uninvited onto their purple velour bean ulus escort bag that served as a guest chair in their room.
“Yeah, thank God the weather will do its usual spring thing and be 60 instead of snowing by then,” I answered. I had grabbed a ticket for the cheaper lawn seating area back when they first went on sale. “You guys are going too, I assume?”
Our college boasted an outdoor amphitheater that often hosted public concerts and other performances beyond strictly campus events. Like most students, I had gone for the cheaper option that left you sitting or standing on the wide grass slope back behind where the people with adult money sat. It was the thing to do, even with the weather risk at that time of year. There was usually a pretty good party out there on the lawn beyond all the covered seating. Lisa slapped her laptop closed with satisfaction and patted a Ticketmaster printout on her desk. “We will see you out on the lawn,” she declared.
We chatted idly about the headline band, arguing about which album of theirs was the best. As is often the case with the three of us, especially when one or more is trying to avoid doing their homework, the conversation soon veered wildly off course to a heated discussion of 90’s Grunge Rock. Once on that subject, both Lee and Lisa started mooning over the ‘tragic story’ of Kurt Cobain. I contended hotly that he was a shit and an asshole who had had it all and whose self-indulgent suicide, exactly like Hemingway’s, served only to deprive the world of all the great work that they would have produced, if they’s just manned up instead of making out with a shotgun.
“You are a cold-hearted asshole,” Lisa told me good-naturedly.
Look, I might have had the burning hots for both these girls, but that didn’t mean I was going to back down on my opinion on a loser like Cobain. I have standards when it comes to my arguments about inconsequentialities.
Who am I kidding? Had I felt I was anywhere close to sealing the deal with either of them, I’d have agreed with just about any ridiculous contention, including Lee’s fervent belief that Niall Horan is in possession of any talent at all beyond simply looking good. But since I could not even make a decision about which of them to ask out in the first place, there was no potential deal to seal, even in early draft form. So Kurt Cobain and his memory just had to be shit upon. It was the only right and proper thing to do.
That sort of mental process was often underlying my thoughts when I hung out with the girls. I really wanted to go out with one of them, but was terrified of deciding who, and of what might happen if I tried.
So I did nothing. And by nothing, I mean not any kind of thing. I was so hung up on these two that I didn’t ask anyone else out either. I’m not sure that even in the impossible event that my lesbian friend Cassie had suddenly declared that she need to suck some cock for her Human Sexuality homework, that I’d have said yes. (That last example was for exaggerated illustration purposes only. Had Cassie expressed any interest in my dick, I’d have dropped trou instantly, even had we been standing in the middle of the Quad. Cassie, while quite hot, was not as sexy as either Lisa or Lee, but her friendly unattainability worked at my soul like a pebble in my shoe.)
I had resolved early on to simply bide my time, enjoy Lisa and Lee’s friendship, ogle them out of the corner of my eye, and look for any indication that one or the other might be finally looking for an invitation. And I had completely given up trying to decide between them. However, the problem was, neither they nor the fates seemed in any hurry to make my choice for me.
Our conversation wandered back to the topic of Friday’s band, and the crazily public ‘love’ life of its lead singer. The fact is, unrequited lusts aside, I really enjoyed hanging out and shooting the shit with Lisa and Lee. I made it almost half an hour before the sweltering heat and my thick outdoor clothes and puffy vest made it too uncomfortable to sit there any longer, and I bestirred myself to head back to my own room. In addition to the heat, both girls had had homework in front of them when I first entered, and I was concerned that I might wear out my welcome. That would be a fate to be avoided at all costs with either of them, much less both. I judged that I had been right, and that they really did need to work, as Lee closed the door behind me when I left.
My own room was quiet as always as I entered.I stripped down so I could put on something light enough to handle the heat of winter-strength radiators in a time of warm spring snow. I had essentially an oversized single dorm, as my assigned roommate had dropped out after the fall semester. It wasn’t that he was having any trouble with his classes, but was instead so damned smart that he was bored to tears. As it turned out, he would end up taking three full semesters off before coming yenimahalle escort back and graduating with both a bachelors and a masters in five total years, including the time he had taken off. While he was gone, he nerded out on his keyboard and his workbench and came up with a gizmo that you probably own at least one of, and sold it for high seven figures to the multinational that now sells it like it was their idea. When he wasn’t reinventing consumer electronics, the guy was screwing the beautiful girlfriend he’d been with since Senior year in high school. The fucker.
I only bring up my rock star of an ex-roommate to illustrate how much I am not some kind of exceptional dude. At 5′ 8″, I’m a good two inches below average height for a guy. I’m in decent shape, and I almost always shower regularly, so I got that going for me. As a student, B+’s come to me as easy as breathing in virtually any subject, but I’ve got to actually be interested in the material to get A’s or especially A+’s. I’m that guy who other kids hate because he makes things look easy, but who also seldom impresses anyone that matters with his results. (Hi Mom!) My only feature that really stands out is my smile. The evidence provided by women over the years has suggested that it is a real winner, and after four miserable years in braces as a kid, it damned sure ought to be good now. I tend to smile a lot, in part because I am usually a pretty happy guy, and in part because I have learned instinctively that smiling increases my chances that certain things might happen to make me even happier…
I tended to smile constantly when I was around Lisa and Lee. Neither seemed to find it weird or off-putting, but, alas, neither of them had spontaneously melted into my arms because of it either.
I had plans to go to the concert with my friends Carl and Pepe. The high plains weather had done its thing and the air was thirty degrees warmer than it had been just two days prior. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the ground was dry. We horsed around as we crossed campus, shoving each other a little and giving shit to Pepe for being so tall and to me for being so short.
To be clear, I am not short. I am five-eight. I am shorter, not short.
When we got to the venue and the warm-up act came out to annoy everyone, I found that Carl and Pepe, the shits, had each arranged to meet dates. I suddenly found myself sitting on the grass between two couples, neither of which had any interest in talking to me. After I had sat there like a total prat for an awful warm-up song or two, I rose and excused myself. Neither buddy took note of my departure.
I wandered around aimlessly, or so I told myself. I had an aim, of course. It was to find Lisa and Lee, which I did in short order. During the first couple of months that I knew them, I couldn’t understand why I was always able to find them in a crowd so easily. I eventually realized that I was using some sub-conscious process that recognized the way that people’s eyes tend to gravitate toward the two of them, and I was just following the currents of other people’s attention.
I approached, and lowered myself to sit cross-legged behind them.
“There you are,” drawled Lee.
“I thought you were coming with Pepe and Carl,” added Lisa.
I shrugged and nodded off behind us and to the left, where Carl and his new girl were lying on the grass, horizontal and superimposed. “They both found better company than I was going to provide.”
They both laughed at my expense, as did I.
The concert was great, once the opening act got the fuck out of there. I was especially happy when Lee and Lisa slid backward to sit on either side of me during the show, including me between them. The bad news was that I could no longer stare openly at their asses, which was a genuine loss. But the good news was that I could check out both of their fronts out of the corners of my eyes. Lisa’s modest but perfectly formed tits were hard to make out in her loose, lavender Lacoste shirt. Lee’s much more impressive chest was clearly outlined by her tight teeshirt from the band’s tour the prior year. She might have not loved her legs, but she was just fine with making sure people got an eyeful of her chest.
As the concert went on, I found myself rubbing shoulders with both girls as we swayed back and forth, singing the lyrics along with the band and half the crowd. Later, during a slower song, Lee tiredly leaned against me, resting against my arm. A moment of so after that, Lisa leaned over against my other side. They stayed there, leaning on my shoulders for a long time. It was the nicest, longest, most casually intimate contact I had ever had with either of them. Alas, neither seemed more affectionate than the other. And anyway, there seemed to be nothing remotely sexual or romantic about it on either side.I just grossed to the music and leant sturdy support to each. But I still found myself fighting a boner that would have been square in both their fields of vision had it gone much further toward fruition. Fortunately, the next song was one of the band’s big hits, and everybody leapt to their feet. It was great evening, and I honestly thought that I had touched each of them more during that concert than I had in total since I had met them, even if it had been just shoulder-to-shoulder.
I have to confess though, it really got me going. When I got back to my double-sized yet single dorm room, I yanked my pants down to my knees and threw myself onto my bed.
I looked down at my cock to see Lisa’s smiling, cornflower blue eyes looking back up at me. Her long, lush lashes, incredibly alluring even without mascara, framed those glorious orbs spectacularly. I groaned as she worked my cock in her delicate hands. With a grin that arched her almost invisible platinum eyebrows, she tilted my head against her lips and pushed me inside her mouth.
I rolled my head back, then looked down. The girl kneeling before me had morphed, and now I was looking at the lovely mocha face of Lee. Her brown eyes smiled up at me just as happily, their dark pools sparkling with delight. Her wide mouth, decorated with the eccentrically bright red lipstick she always wore, wrapped more easily around my cock than Lisa’s had. I moaned as she easily took my shaft in and out rapidly.
Later, at a point where it was once more Lisa’s happy face that consumed my cock, I shuddered and moaned quietly as my balls emptied and sprayed white jizz all over my stomach and hand. I collapsed backward, feeling just little bit of shame that I had, as was often the case, used my friends like that in my masturbatory fantasies.
To be fair, Scarlett Johansen may have also made an appearance, giving my friends a break during the middle of the festivities. She and a few other celebrities often dropped by, but that night it was Scarlett, I’m pretty sure. She took off pretty quickly after she appeared, though. My mind was on my dorm mates.
I and my smile have always done pretty well with the girls, but since less than a month after first meeting Lisa and Lee, Rosy Palm and her crew had been my only sexual partners. Everyone does well with the ladies when they are lying alone in the dark, with their dick in their hand. I just was getting sick and tired of getting ‘laid’ like that… even if it did involve Scarlett Johansen… or sometimes a young Halle Berry.
Oh, and sometimes I thought about… You get the picture.
The next weekend, I was once more ensconced on Lisa and Lee’s beanbag on Saturday afternoon, setting sunlight streaming through the window and half blinding me as we talked. We all three got an Instagram notification at the same time and smirked at each other as we each checked our phones. We had been talking about nothing interesting enough to ignore the social media stimulation, especially since we all got the same notification.
It was a picture of Carl and his girl from the concert. The picture was from the shoulders up, and it was pointedly obvious that like his, her shoulders were innocent of any clothing, even camisole or bra straps… Our conversation went to Carl’s hot new item, and our universal agreement that it would not last.
“Still, I refuse to Like this damned pic,” declared Lisa. “No guy that have I wanted to has asked me out all year.”
Lee almost hissed at Lisa, then added sort of quellingly, “Me either, girl!” They kind of shared a fraught look for a moment. Then, damned if they didn’t both turn their gaze on me! And it wasn’t the friendliest look I’d ever seen from either of them.
“Hey,” I defended myself, against what, I didn’t know. But I apparently needed defending. “I’m date-free these days, too! My social life isn’t any better than yours. Hell, my social life is your social life,” I added, looking to blunt from their weirdly angry vibe with mutual camaraderie.
They traded looks. Then Lisa seemed to assume the role as spokesperson and almost shouted, “Oh, fuck off, George,” she said, almost acidly.
“Yeah,” agreed Lee. “Fuck off. Like, fuck right off out of our room. We don’t need your sympathy.”
And just like that, for the first time ever, I got kicked out of their room. And they even slammed the door behind me!
To say I was non-plussed would be an understatement. I wandered back to my own room, a little dazed. What the fuck was that?
Were they mad at some guy or guys, and I, as the closest member of the species, was taking the hit for him/them?
I resolved to give the girls a wide berth for a week to let the heat blow over. I went to visit some friends in another dorm and had dinner there so I wouldn’t see them in our dining hall that Saturday. The next morning, I made myself get up earlier than usual for my morning run, so I would be long past the place where they did Sunday yoga before that activity began. My usual MO, of course, was to time my passing by to coincide with the middle of that workout. The way I could get an eyeful of them (and others) doing some pose like Downward Dog. God bless yoga pants and Downward Dog! That afternoon, I stayed in my room, with my door actually closed for once, forced myself to be a student, and did some homework.
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