It was the second year of university and I stayed in halls. Most of last years' freshers had decided to move out after their first year. They wanted the freedom to party all night and smoke in their rooms without fear of a passing tutor ratting them out to the Warden. The Warden’s name was Eméline. She was French and was universally known to be tough on hot boxers and smokers in general; someone in her family had died from lung cancer. I chose to stay a second year because I didn't smoke and I got free Internet.
As a second year resident, I was allowed to help run the hall bar. It opened at 6pm most nights. My duties included selling beer, counting the takings, cleaning the glasses and choosing the music. What I actually did was to drink the alcohol I was supposed to be selling and generate noise complaints from the library. Most nights we'd close at 11pm, by which time I'd have often finished ten pints. This was easy because the beer was watered, I was nineteen and I didn't do a lot of work.
At some point during the first term there was an event for the freshers and the Senior Common Room asked me to book some bands and run the bar. I blew the whole entertainment budget on a blues band who were mostly medical students in the year above. For a support act I booked my band because I liked the attention and I had already spent all the money on the blues group.
Frankie was eighteen and she was at the party. She was tall, 5’9”, an indie kid from Brighton. She had an eight year-old brother. Her parents were going through a divorce. She liked Debbie Harry and The Rolling Stones. I knew this because she had their t-shirts and sometimes she didn't wear a bra.
My band played five songs and after we cleared off the stage for the blues group. We were a great warm up act for them because we made them look good. I knew most of their tunes and clapped loudly at the front after each song finished. They invited me up on stage for the last one, "Mystery Train", but I was too drunk to sing and I forgot the words. I saw Frankie outside on the terrace smoking with the other kids and went over.
"Hi."
"Hi. Was that your band just now?"
"No, not just now. Mine was the one before."
"Oh, right. I didn't really recognise any of your songs, I'm sorry."
"That's okay. We’re shit, anyway. Can I get a cigarette?"
"Here."
It's a blue packet of Mayfair. I take one and put it in my mouth. It smells rank, like burning leaves, nursing homes, formaldehyde and the 80s. She hands me the lighter, I spark up and take a drag of my first cigarette. Frankie doesn't know it's my first. It's disgusting for me but I persevere. It's another year before I learn how to take smoke into my lungs properly.
We finish the cigs and she stubs hers out on the balustrade. I decide I'm going to flick mine between my thumb and forefinger like I've seen gangsters do in black and white films. I brace the index finger of my right hand against my right thumb, place it to the cigarette and flick. The cigarette butt is still between my lips, so the burning cherry flies straight up into my eye. It goes red and starts watering. Frankie goes back inside. I'm drunk enough that it soon stops hurting and I follow her in.
At some point that night Frankie and I fuck. The sex was alright and we do it again the next morning to kill the hangover. We see each other for a while and I start to think we're an item. I go up to her shared dorm every few nights, sometimes she comes to mine. She prefers staying in my room when her roommate is in because she doesn't want to fuck in front of her. Her roommate is very highly sexed and I like the idea of fucking in front of her but I don't tell Frankie. Something about our relationship means I can't tell her that. I'm too young to know what it is and too inexperienced to approach it so I ignore it.
One night, a friend tells me there are some plane flights to New York for £125 return. You can buy them online and I've just received my student loan payment.
"Frankie, let's go to New York"
"What?"
"I've booked the tickets. Do you have a passport? We're flying out on 2nd January."
Christmas is spent separately but we meet at Gatwick on the day. We make the flight and start drinking complementary alcohol. We have a couple of glasses of champagne then switch to red wine. The rest of the crossing is boring but eventually we land at Newark. It's a terrible ride to Manhattan; the traffic is jammed all the way into town. The journey lasts ninety minutes before we arrive at our hotel on 7th and West 15th. It's functional. The walls are white bathroom tiles. There's a brass tap sticking out of the wall on copper pipe. Two single beds are placed at opposite sides of the room. I pick up the hotel phone and wait for reception to answer.
"Hello, Front Desk."
"Hi, it's room 312 here."
"I know sir, how may I help you?"
"There's a problem with my room. I asked for a double but there are two single beds here."
"That's what a double room is, sir."
"Okay. But I wanted a double bed."
After some confusion, reception explains that what I want is a queen-size bed but they don't have any to spare. Instead, they suggested putting the two single beds together and making them up with queen-size sheets. I was exhausted, my red wine hangover was starting to kick in and I couldn't be bothered to argue. I figured it was the best we could do but I was pissed off that New York couldn’t offer me a proper bed to fuck in. While the hotel staff fixed the sheets, Frankie and I went out to get hamburgers and root beer. We brought them back to the room and ate them together in our double-single bed.
The next day, we were tourists. We went up the Empire State building and saw squirrels in Central Park. We visited the Statue of Liberty and I took a photo up her dress. We went to the Blue Note jazz club. We had dinner at a Brazilian restaurant. I had half a kilo of ground beef piled up on a huge dome of rice on a plate the size of a steering wheel. We ordered two bottles of wine. On the way back to the hotel we bought some more wine.
We got back to the hotel drunk. I wanted to fuck and so did she. We began kissing and undressed each other. We were young and inexperienced but she really did have great tits and I liked that. This time, for the first time, Frankie came really hard. I'd been fucking her for a few months now I and hadn't seen her orgasm like that before. We caught our breath and I asked her.
"Hey, that sounded great."
"Yeah, it was."
"Did I do something different?"
"I don't know, somehow it just felt different."
"Is it because we're in New York?"
"Maybe. Can we do it again?"
"Okay, I'll go down on you."
She was sat on the edge of the bed with both feet flat on the floor; I was on my knees facing her. The mattresses had started to shift apart whilst we were fucking so I shoved them back together. She put her hands out behind her and leaned back. I watched her body as she tilted her neck back and her brown bob cut fell around her ears. She put her left leg up on to the bed and I looked at her cunt; she'd recently shaved it back to just a few threads of hair. I used my thumbs to peel back the labia and expose the clitoris. She moaned, her thighs were still jumping from the last time she came. My cock started to rise again and I leaned my face into her pussy.
I opened my mouth, bent my neck forward and inhaled. There was a faint smell, acrid and organic. It smelled like shit. I put my hands under her arse, lifted it up and spread the cheeks. She moaned again and I saw it. A smear of turd ran down her crack and spread along the inside of each cheek, from the coccyx down to the top of the thigh. I took my hands off her.
"Ah, look. You should take a shower", I said.
"What?"
"I mean, do you want to take shower with me?"
"Now? What's the matter?"
"Nothing, come on, I really want to. Just get in the shower with me."
"Alright."
We went into the bathroom. The bathroom was tiled just like the bedroom but there was a drain in the floor and the twin shower heads that looked like agricultural hardware came straight out of the tiles in the ceiling. The toilet looked like it had come from a prison but it was clean. I turned on the taps and we got under the jet.
"I'll wash you", I said.
There was a small rectangular cake of soap on a metal tray on the wall. I worked it up into a lather with my hands as she stood there. I held her from behind and washed her front. I moved my hands slowly over her body but I couldn't concentrate on her tits because I knew that the shit was still there between her legs. I turned her around and held her from the front while I washed her back. I didn't want to talk about the shit but I really wanted it out of there before I went down on her again. The water was getting in our eyes. I held her closely and ran both my hands from her shoulders down to her arse. I parted her cheeks again and started washing the shit out from between them with my fingers. When I figured it was clean I got her to rinse off. We got out of the shower and I washed my hands in the bathroom sink. I don’t know what she thought I was doing but she didn’t mention anything.
We went back to bed and watched some public access TV. The shower experience had been weird and now sex wasn't going to happen. That shit stain had killed the moment. When I woke up the next morning I had another wine hangover. I got in the shower and had a wank before she got out of bed. While the water ran over me I thought it most likely that the reason she had such a great orgasm was that we were in New York and that made me sad.
It was a few weeks later and we were at a party. I was hammered and groped one of Frankie's friends in front of her whilst we were dancing. She called me out in public and I denied doing it to their faces. Frankie was very angry with me.
The next week, Frankie called to say that she was seeing Julian from now on. I was cut up because I liked Julian but I knew it wasn’t working with Frankie. It seemed to have happened pretty quickly and I wondered if there had been some overlap. It didn't matter, though. Fuck Julian. Fuck Frankie. There were plenty of girls. I talked to Dan about the one I groped at the party. She also had really great tits so I was disappointed when he told me she was a terrible kisser. Dan said when he tried he almost lost a piece of his lip.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/2vraeu/frankie_oc_true_story_mf