The green room couch [MF]

I still remember the feeling of excitement I felt when I stumbled across the university-affiliated radio station’s table during the standard clubs event that takes place during freshman orientation. I was (and continue to be) an enormous music nerd and the prospect of having my own weekly show, it was all I could think about after taking the application back to my dorm. It was a short questionnaire, would I have cohosts, would I abide by the rules. I agonized over the sample playlist I was asked to provide, every cut had to be perfect. I worked harder on this than my first week’s homework, jotted potential songs in notebooks during class; I needed this spot. Not because it was limited (though certainly I didn’t want the ten to midnight Friday night slot), but because at the table as we chatted about the station, I was also informed there’d be opportunity to be on the staff. I had to impress from the beginning.

Sure enough my obsessing pulled through and early my first semester I was officially the “assistant program director” for the station. It came with some responsibility: paperwork, listening to shows during the week to make sure hosts are following guidelines, office hours, helping promote on campus. Weekly meetings with the staff. The perks were amazing though – getting to meet bands from semesterly shows we had a budget to plan, access to tons of pre-release albums and an enormous music library of a greatly curated radio station (…in an era before streaming music), getting the time slot I want. And my own key to the station – anyone not on staff had to check out a key during business hours from the university, or had to be let in from the DJ that was in the station to begin with.

The station itself was a room covered in soundproofing covered in band posters, containing a small desk with a pc, the mixing board, a couple mics. It even had enough room for a small group to set up and play live in the studio. Leading into it was a small room that branched also between an office, bathroom, and a small hallway to the front door. It was affectionately called our green room. It was in actuality a couple chairs stolen from around campus, a coffee table that I never did learn its origin, as well as one of the rattiest brown (was it originally?) fabric sofas I had ever seen. Patches, stains, holes (both puncture and burn), this thing was objectively terrible. It smelled of weed, BO, sweat, and faint garbage. Tolerable but very much present. The weekly meetings took place in this room, it was big enough for everyone to sit in. I remember the night I let myself into the station for my first weekly meeting, I showed up early because of course I wouldn’t fuck this up. The director was already there, her office hours ended when the meeting begins but she was killing time. We exchanged greetings as I looked to take a seat.

“Oh! Don’t sit on the couch.” My director called out as she watched me making the decision. “I mean you’re welcome to. I wouldn’t. People have sex on it all the time, it’s been here forever and it’s basically a legend,” she added with a laugh.

“Gross,” I laughed in return, “of course they do.” I caught onto what happens at school quickly. I took a chair and continued to small talk with the director and the rest of the staff as they filtered in. It wasn’t until many later conversations with other staff members and hosts (as well as a very personal confirmation I got coming in for my office hours one afternoon) I would know for sure she wasn’t kidding, but I felt like I knew her at least well enough to know it wasn’t a joke already. Besides, one look at it and you’d know she was dead serious. I watched who was brave enough to take their seat on it. I was intrigued by it. Just how long had this thing been in here. This seemed like a pretty public place, even if you could get in after hours. The dingy low lighting, the stale uncirculated air, no wonder it wasn’t any secret. But as the meeting wrapped up and we all went our separate ways, I walked back to my dorm room in a nice autumn breeze and couldn’t get the image of that ratty couch out of my head. I knew that night, by the time I graduated I *would* fuck someone on it.

For a while though, the thought of it slipped to the back of my mind. I had fooled around with a couple people in high school, slept with two of them and while I enjoyed sex I would have far from considered myself as someone very active with their sexuality. Some of those more raw desires stayed latent in the back of my head until I experienced the greater freedom of a dorm situation. Meeting new people came easy enough for me, and they felt more like me than the circles of happenstance that sprung up in high school. The sexual tension I felt between some of these new acquaintances quickly flared up as new friendships were made in those early weeks of university. I had felt more confident and desirable than ever, and got a lot more comfortable with it. You know the old story of the girl coming into her own after going away to school. Always safe, set my standards and boundaries, but having the time of my life getting to know what all the fuss was about for real, the thought of the radio station fuck couch would drift in and out of my mind as I built up this fantasy around it. It seemed so… Sexy. Yes, it was gross. But so was most of the furniture I was used to around campus, what mattress in those dorms probably wasn’t exposed to a number of fluids at some point? It was a little bit groupie fantasy, a little bit love of the concept of the location. It was private, but not entirely so. And it was pretty fucking punk rock. I craved to be that girl breathing heavy against someone, sweaty and satisfied. I wanted to be the girl some next person thinks about when they’re told about the couch in the radio station green room.

I’m 5’2″ and always been on the skinnier side, with the assets that usually accompany a more petite woman. At the time I had the bright red 2006-Hayley Williams look going on. I am the girl you know who never takes off her converse. And in the spring I met someone in an upper level creative writing class. “Chris” was a junior, and had shaggy dyed black hair and deep blue eyes. Modest gauges, a couple small tattoos. Totally lean, always wearing skinny jeans with a cardigan and vans or chucks. Sensitive, but really witty. He looked the asshole without actually playing the part. And of course, knew his music. His type melted me, so I quickly fit my way into his attention and soon we were spending a lot of time together. Once we started flirting with each other all bets were off. Glances and touches turned to make outs and hands slipping under waistbands pretty quickly. I’ll play the “oh I never do this” card but we definitely fucked in no time.

Late into the spring I went to your standard frat party with Chris. It wasn’t anything special. A lot of drinking, a lot of dancing, the shitty soundsystem blasting the same tired hits of the day (don’t get me wrong, frat parties could be fun, there was just no way you were dragging me to one weekend after weekend). By the time we stumbled out of the party around two we were both a sweaty mess and all I could think about was peeling those tight jeans off of Chris and sucking his cock dry. All that “dancing” was of course just dry humping this poor guy as we both wondered why we weren’t just back in one of our rooms, and those skinny jeans always looked so uncomfortable every time we retreated from the big quote unquote dance floor.

We had an issue tonight though. It was absurdly late, and both our roommates were in bed and certainly not going to be willing to vacate at this hour. No way we’re trying to play the keep it quiet game. It’s two in the morning and we’re not at our best cognitive ability. We stood in the nice late spring air, both very drunk, horny, and frustrated. The couch flashed across my mind and I knew. “Come on,” I grabbed his hand and started walking, “I’ve got it.”

We darted quickly across the quad under streetlights dotting the walkway. It was a small school but a number of people still were out. Most seemed occupied strictly with getting wherever they were going. There was a shortcut to the station entrance through a small courtyard that fed into an alley between dorm buildings that let out right next to the front door, I remembered my heart beating heavy in my chest. Chris questioned where we were going a few times but I kept quiet wanting it to be a surprise. I stopped him briefly in the alley and backed up against the wall, pulling his face down to mine in a heated kiss. I continued to desperately neck Chris as his thigh worked its way between my legs. I had denim skirt on and pressed up into him. I felt the dampness through my underwear work its way onto his jeans. I pushed him off of me. “God,” I beckoned, leading him by the hand once more. “We’re almost there.”

There was nobody around as I fumbled with my purse and then the keys through a drunken fog. Chris was behind me, kissing my neck and gently lifting the back of my skirt teasingly until I found the correct key and get it slipped into the lock. I flung the door to the station open and we quickly disappeared inside.

For several moments I held my breath, listening. Live shows usually end around 12 or one, unless someone really wants the late slot. But playlists run through empty time slots keeping us on air 24/7 so the quiet sound of rock music reverberated through studio. I wouldn’t know for sure if it was empty until we were down the front hall. I had fantasized about it, but actually being here and thinking about the consequences of being caught… Even given the couch’s reputation I was sure (perhaps a little naively still at that point) if we were found I’d lose my position on staff. Chris’ hands continue to tease me, but I was soberingly rigid until we confirmed the building was empty. The moment it clicked that the coast was clear, all the hot desire flooded my body again and I dragged my partner to the couch and shoved him back into the seat.

I collapsed on top of him, pushing his shirt up kissing his pale chest. “Molly,” he gasped. His hands ran through my hair, he hunched forward to pull me into a kiss and I bit his lip. My hands worked furiously at the fasten on his pants, he slid my panties aside and played with my overwhelming wetness. The Shins’ *Australia* bounced through the open door to the studio and I wrestled his skinny jeans awkwardly down and started stroking his full seven inches as he continued to play with me. He was rock hard already, and I didn’t blame him.

I slid to my knees on the floor in front of his thick member. “You have no idea how much I’ve been thinking about this,” I cooed before massaging his tip with my lips. He tasted salty, a mix of sweat from the night and the precum pooling in bubbles oozing out. I slid my lips down his shaft and hummed in delight. I looked up to see him leaned back against the couch agonizing at just entering my warm mouth. I released with a gasp, letting my spit slide down his cock now glinting slightly in the glow of equipment from the studio and office provided most of the light in the green room currently.

“Oh fuck!” Chris’ hands grabbed the back of my head. His encouragement squeezed his cock deeper down my throat and my eyes watered a little before I regained composure and continued blowing him. My pussy swollen, I started playing with myself, effortlessly sliding one, then two fingers inside. I broke away to tear off the black crop top I had chosen for the night, dark stains of liquid spotting the chest of it. “God damn.” He was breathing heavily. I lovingly jerked him as he moaned in approval before I brushed a strand of firey hair out of my face and continued to bounce my head in his lap. Had jaw muscles not been designed to get tired, I felt like I could have sucked him off forever.

I don’t think Chris would have let me though, because eventually he pulled my head up from him with that look in his eyes. I won’t deny that I didn’t want to feel him stretch me out too. “Take em off,” I instructed without having him need to say a word. I moved up to the couch and slipped the panties clumsily off over my shoes, hiked my skirt up and turned around, my ass arched up in the air as I’m resting into the arm of the sofa. “Put it in baby,” I tease, shaking my butt gently back and forth. He’s already wrestled out of the pants and stripped off the shirt. I felt arousal swell staring at him as he stood behind me, hard cock in hand eyeing me with need.

“Molly…” He entered me slowly and I brought my head forward, accepting him. The torn up brown arm of the sofa taking up most of my view. “You’re so fucking wet!” He gave me a firm spank. My mind was overwhelmed, I finally was that girl getting split open on the legendary radio station green room couch. He went to quick work pushing deep inside me, over and over. Only a few gasps and rough moans, as well as his hip pounding hard into me, broke the automated ambient playlist continuing to plug along in the background.

“Fuck,” I commented as I felt him begin to slow his pace. He pulsed inside me and I slipped him out, feeling my juice trail down a thigh. He collapsed onto the seat, I definitely wasn’t done with him. I silently climbed on top of him, holding his tip just below my entrance, teasing him with my lips before slowly lowering myself onto him with a giggle. I slid up and down his full length a few times and moaned in delight. His entire cock inside, I rocked my hips back and forth against him. He returned the gesture, grinding his pelvis into my mound. His thumb moved to my aching clit as he ran it over my nub to my delight. I worked harder against him, I could feel orgasm approaching hard. I could feel my pussy quiver in anticipation. “You’re gonna make me cum!” I lock eyes with him desperately.

“Fuck yes, cum for me Molly!” His thumb worked faster, quickly driving me over the edge.

I released and my rocking hips turned to sharp shivers. “Fuck!” Every time I cum as hard as I just did, I go completely rigid. Nothing else needs to be said as shock after shock continues to permeate my legs and groin. I can feel myself tighten hard and relax around the filling rod. Chris’ self satisfied grin quickly turns to urgency as my orgasm sent him hurtling toward his own. He threw me off him and I fell on my back to the couch. “Let it out,” I encouraged, watching him stroke his powerful cock. His face was so sexy, contorted in that just-pre-unleash squinched up agony. He lowered his cock into my mouth as he let loose a loud groan, his hot load gushing into my mouth. I had totally expected a lot from prior experience, but apparently the whole evening had left him more pent up than usual. Thick jizz rolled into my mouth until I had to open it, leasing a large strand of saliva and semen to tumble down my cheek, through a few bits of sweaty hair, and finally onto the couch. I sat up, taking a hold of Chris as he shook with sensitivity. I took my best attempt to swallow everything I could and let the rest roll right out onto the couch to join my first stain. “Fuck me what a load!”

Chris and I looked at each other in exhaustion, exchanging some laughter. It was drunken, hasty, and over way too soon, but I was satisfied. I laughed as I looked at my addition to “the couch.” The cum even still wet, it was difficult to even tell there was a new few spots on the left most cushion.

I told Chris about our contribution to the legend the next day. Of course he quickly jumped at the idea of making it a regular trip for us, but I had a better respect for the couch. When I had needed it, it was there for me, I didn’t want to mess up any karma I had from not being walked in on in the first place.

It’d have to be reserved for special occasions.

I remember the next staff meeting, I arrived early and took a usual folding chair for my seat near the corner of the green room. I had talked to most of the staff before then, so I knew our escapade went unnoticed – or at least nobody was letting on. But I still remember giving a polite smile to the assistant music director before the meeting, who greeted everyone as he came in and took a seat on the left side of the green room couch.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/n5y5bg/the_green_room_couch_mf