…in a boy’s dream

There’s a tacky olive green, polyester drape that will never hang the way it once did before we were there. The doorway was small and the halls smell of D.P. Dough, Rogan’s Pizza and weed that’s blown through an old water bottle stuffed with dryer sheets. The sweatpants that she wore yesterday trip me slightly as I try to appear cool walking in to the room that her roommate just ran from to go study with her girl friend. The sent of strawberry body spray and lavender hand soap pressed diliberately across my nose, cheek and chin on her way to close the door behind me.

looking in from two steps into the doorway there were 2 small beds and a window that revealed the lake beyond the trees from so many stories up on campus. To my left, the lesbian training grounds, where a young woman would desperately find herself with other women and to my right, the exact same quest but where the exploration is conducted by a man, a woman and sometimes more than one or the other.

She pressed passed me, into her room, I didn’t hear the door lock when she closed it but I did feel her breasts brush my shoulder blade as she sneaks past me to the seat just past the head of the bed on the right side of the room… her side of the room. She was wearing a sweatshirt that was 2 sizes too large for me and on her, a shoulder peaks out from the neck revealing her cleavage to any interested in looking. Sitting down, her sweat pants reveal a small hole in the bottom, exposing the light pink panties underneath. I try not to take several glances as she lifts her knees to her chest to look me over in my loose jeans and zippered sweat shirt. She says something about the view and I nod bashfully as a come halfway into the room and sit on the tidy lesbian bed… a move that she did not particularly like. I wasn’t being forward and she had other plans than to make small talk.

the hops up from her chair, revealing the holes in her socks as her toes leap out as they flick the old, dirty carpet that the 70 left and never recalled. She moves so quickly. Her arms, stomach, ass, thighs glide quickly as you’d expect a dancer to. The music had just stopped and she was looking to switch out the Indigo Girls with something that would make us more daring. She pulls a CD from her black CD jacket and I don’t see exactly what it is. It’s blank so it’s obviously burned (over 10 hours…) from songs she found on Napster, when the west was still wild. She presses play, turns the music up so that we can’t hear the Spice Girls next door and stands directly across from me, her ass pressed against her bed, mine pressed against her roommates when Dave starts singing…

without a word her eyes change their intent.

“You know right?” she says to me, gently. Her look is vulnerable. She looks as if she’s either going to cry… or laugh… or both. She’s looking into my eyes for an answer; for a response. Dave keeps singing and we both hear it… we hear it for the first time…

She pulls the right sleeve of her giant sweatshirt with her left hand revealing her breasts to me; round with medium sized soft purple areola fully erect in concert with the subzero blizzard carrying on outside her window. I move in to feel the warmth of her body when she stops me with her foot. She leans back on the bed with her foot on my chest and begins to pull her sweats and panties off in a single motion, I do my part to finish the job, placing them on the floor as she swings back up to her feet, past me and to the window. She closes the blinds out of habit because there is no one, save the birds that could possibly watch. She turns back to me, revealing every single curve in her womanly form. I reach for the light and successfully turn it out, because as lovely as she looks under flouresent, she’ll look even better in my hands through lava and moon light.

We pull one another to the bed, slowly, methodically taking turns tasting foreign skin and working towards a sweat that never ends. Our bodies dance in dramatic ways with passion filling the room and one another’s senses. Teasing and teasing, making the dance last a long time. This first time doesn’t happen twice and our bodies know it. Her lips explore the finer parts of a man while my fingers find a new domain in her dirty blonde hair. The sensation is too powerful and I reach for something to help me through the experience when I tear her bookshelf from the wall to the floor as she stops and begins screaming beautiful, dangerous, wonderful commands to me.

Panting, excited with #41 beating in our hearts she plants herself onto her knees and hands atop her bed arching her back and extending the bottom half of her hour glass into the air. She makes no mistake as to what she wants from the man in the room. I enter her over and over again, at her request as she conducts the entire event through a series of sounds… some melodic and others cacophonous. At the peak of our lustful discretion she reaches out to the very same olive green shade of polyester and pulls it down as we crescendo towards the inevitable end. The full moonlight pours in, illuminating our naked, sweat glistened bodies as we fall into one another as drift off into a well deserved sleep.