Some years before college, before the youth homes, the psych ward, the bad behaviors and addictions, and his eventual bottoming out, Dennis looked in his father’s Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition and gawked. The woman sitting on the beach, smiling at him casually as if asking what he was doing there and liking that was there all at once, had perfect legs. They stretched across the sand into the pictures foreground. Dennis then understood that he had a thing for legs. He tried to find the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition again, several weeks later, and was disappointed to find that his father had apparently taken it with him to prison. So, he sat on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes and remembered the legs…
Seven years later it was October of 2018 and Dennis sat on a porch outside a house party in Carbondale, Illinois. He had turned nineteen a few days before. He sat there with his friend Kurt, whom he’d known since high school. They sipped their beer and watched the partygoers stumbling out of the front door at one in the morning.
“Where did you get this beer, man?” Dennis said.
“I don’t know, Dave drove me to the only store he knows around here and…”
“Throw in some salt and add some flavor.” Dennis crumpled the can and threw it on the porch. Some suds sprayed particularly close to a man in a fur cap and glasses passing the porch on ground level.
Dennis burped.
“Yeah, I doubt I’m coming to class tomorrow,” he said, laughing. “Not at this rate. Take some notes for me.”
Kurt looked embarrassed, as Dennis often made him feel this way. He was not the only one who felt this way around Dennis.
Three girls stumbled out of the front door and down the steps. One wore pants, the other two wore skirts. Dennis eyed the legs of the girl in the green skirt and white Catholic school blouse. She had terrific legs. Perfect curvature on her thighs sloping down to thin but strong-looking knees. Spotless pale white skin. She was a redhead. Her face was far from spotless. Freckles dashed out everywhere, quite possibly made redder by whatever booze she’d consumed.
“Hey, Mother Teresa!” Dennis called out. Kurt laughed. The girls stopped and did not turn.
“I’m talking to the one of you who can’t retire your Catholic school get-up.”
She turned. Only halfway at first, with a leer on her face. Dennis had gotten good at not letting girls bother him with their go-away faces. He gestured to her.
“Come on over. We want to talk to you. It’s cool, bring your BFFs.”
With some sighing, she turned around all the way and walked up the steps. Her friends, seeing that she was caving, followed.
“Hey. What?” She said, standing in front of Dennis.
“What’s your name?”
“Janis.”
“What year are you?”
“Freshman.”
“Dennis. Also a freshman. Nice to meet you.”
He extended her hand. She decided to shake it.
“You seem a little older,” Janis said.
“Did you think I was somebody’s dad?” Dennis said it in a way that made her smile.
“I dunno,” Janis said.
“You’re not sure what you meant.” Dennis stared at her.
“Not…really, I guess.”
“It’s okay, it’s cool. I run around blurting stuff out, too.”
Janis and her friends made exasperated sounds tinged with humor.
“Yeah,” Janis nodded, widening her blue eyes. “I can see that.”
“You mean you could hear it. We’re going to set up a table and play some beer pong, me and Kurt here. Oh yeah, this is Kurt.” He stuck his thumb towards Kurt. Kurt waved with half his arm. The girls returned a wave of exactly the same intensity.
“I feel like you and your friends should come with,” Dennis said.
“Why do you feel that way?” Said one of Janis’ friends.
“I dunno, some mystical voodoo shit’s affecting me, I suppose,” said Dennis. He stood and stretched. Kurt stood and did not.
“The parking lot by the hilariously-named Hallman’s Hall, if you know it,” Dennis vaguely pointed. “Meet us there or just follow us.” He and Kurt left the porch. Dennis brushed against Janis lightly as he passed.
Janis and her friends (Mara and Katie, for what it’s worth) stood in awkward silence.
“Um yeah, okay…” Mara often said this. She was the one in pants.
“That guy was…creepy? Kind of?” Said Katie.
“Kind of,” Janis shrugged. She looked in the direction of Dennis and Kurt, almost disappeared into the night. “Whatever,” she said, and began to follow.
“Oh Janis, you can’t be serious…” Katie had spoken. But Janis was following. Katie and Mara exchanged looks and followed her.
As if possessing some kind of sixth sense, Dennis whipped around:
“Stalkers!” He called. At this, all three girls laughed.
Dennis and Kurt followed through on the promise of beer pong. Dennis retrieved a foldable table and a ping pong ball from his dorm room and set it up at the end of the parking lot. Kurt retrieved some liquor and shot glasses (one deception: it was liquor, not beer, pong) and poured the drinks. The two young men played against the three young women. People lost, drank, laughed, stumbled backwards. When it was decided that Dennis and Janis would team up against Kurt and Mara (who positioned herself far enough from him for him to not get any ideas at all). Dennis put his hand on her shoulder and whispered to her,
“You’re better at this than I am.”
Janis, freckles really popping, made a Mona Lisa smile and tossed the ball.
Janis usually found French Kissing a little gross, but she didn’t mind it this time. She and Dennis made out against the brick wall of the dorm. A breeze blew. A security light was their only illumination. Dennis moved his hand down Janis’ left side and felt her thigh. She grabbed his hand and moved it. They pulled each other closer.
Janis shrugged away.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said. “Aren’t you sort of…are you dangerous?” She giggled as she said it.
Dennis smiled.
“I dunno,” he said. “That’s for you to decide.” They shared a laugh and kissed some more. Dennis dabbed his tongue against hers and retreated it. He was good at this kind of kissing, she felt.
After dropping her off at her dorm, Dennis walked through the dark, his cock bursting in his jeans. He was already having difficulty going for a week or longer without sex. Over the summer, his longest dry spell had been perhaps six days. There were enough girls back home to keep him busy. Here, he still had some stockpiling to do. It had been a week since Courtney had visited from Bloomington. Dennis realized he’d have to resort: he looked up the escort agency and made the call. He stopped in his room to get his condoms and walked downtown to the designated motel. He met up with a shy, anemic Russian woman a few years older than him named Olga. She rode him as long as he wanted, on the very squeaky bed in a room distinguished by peeling wallpaper. At the end of coitus, Dennis asked if he could take her picture. Olga shook her head and Dennis asked again.
“I guess,” she shrugged, grabbing her bra from the bed.
Dennis took out his phone and snapped a picture of a slightly flushed, naked twenty-something Russian woman, bra seized in her left hand.
A few days later, Dennis and Janis made plans to meet up. They had been texting steadily over the week. They met up in the student center and had lunch. Dennis was struck when he saw the overly dressed up girl who walked through the door: a black dress, the darkest red lipstick, hair in a ponytail, a brushing of makeup. Her eyes were blue. He’d forgotten that. He felt like they were in an Alfred Hitchcock film from the 50s (one of his favorite directors). He waited for her to find him.
“Hey,” she finally said, with a smile.
“What’s up?” He said, sipping a Sprite. “Do you like chicken salad?”
Their conversation went all over the place that afternoon. They talked about their families (broken, for both of them), their home states (Central Illinois for Dennis, Alabama for Janis) and how somehow neither of them had accents. They talked about food and Anime porn and ducks. Janis said she had only been with older guys so far.
“Until a few nights ago…” she added, putting her face in her hand.
“We just smooched. That isn’t being together,” he said.
Some of the things about himself that Dennis told he were true. Others were definitely false.
They walked back to her dorm. The weather had suddenly decided to start acting like Fall. Dennis observed this.
“I know,” said Janis, half-shivering. “I dunno. You want to come inside?”
Dennis pretended to think about it. He shrugged out a why-not?
It wasn’t too surprising to either of them that in mere minutes they were rolling around on Janis’ bed, in her single dorm room, French kissing again, kissing each other’s faces, moving their hands around each other’s bodies. Dennis slid a hand under her dress and hiked it up over her thighs. Janis rolled his shirt over his shoulders and Dennis shrugged it off entirely. He slid his hand in through the crotch lining of her panties and dipped his fingers into her folds. Janis gasped and clutched at his forehead. Dennis kissed her down her neck and on to her breasts. He asked her to sit up and fumbled for her dress zipper. Janis reached between their bodies and undid it. Dennis slapped his forehead.
“D’oh!” he said.
Janis laughed louder than necessary. She wore a basic white bra. Her belly had a crease in it that made her look healthier than she did with clothes on.
“I know my way around this a little better,” Dennis said, and unhooked her bra. He kissed her. He laid her back down. He made his way down her breasts, sucking on both her nipples. Janis made fluttering noises. Dennis slid his head down her stomach and pulled off her lace underwear. He dipped two fingers back inside her. Positioning himself between her legs, separated in a narrow V, he looked her in the eyes and said,
“You want this, right?”
“Mhmm.” Janis nodded. She saw him duck between her legs. She felt him spread her folds. She felt the swish of his tongue tip and it made her suck in air with a throaty sound at the end that she felt somewhat embarrassed about.
Dennis moved his tongue side to side at first. Janis’ pussy, like most pussies he’d eaten, was shaved bare. He felt some prickles coming in, needling his forehead as he worked. He did not use his fingers. With his hands he explored her body. He batted her nipples around with his fingers. He extended his tongue as far out as it would protrude and distanced his head from her cunt by several inches. He swished the tip of his tongue and placed two fingers on her lips. Janis opened her mouth and sucked his fingers. Her sucking inspired him to suck her. He sucked between her folds and licked, sucked and drew back and licked.
Janis’ labia was pink. When he opened his eyes, he saw it edging into red. Dennis thought of the game he played with his buddy Dirk, called Purple or Pink. They kept a tally sheet of the two labial colors. Every time they went down on a new girl they made a tally mark under the appropriate color. Really, though, they just informed each other of which color it was via Google Chat. There were far more pinks than purples.
Dennis switched to ups and downs. He bobbed his head up and down with the motion of his tongue. He felt Janis’ breaths deepen, then quicken, and he felt her fingers in his hair. She pushed his head closer in between her thighs. She made a series of fast breaths and followed them by going,
“Oooohhhhh…” Which she ended by biting her lip.
Dennis felt his phone buzz. It was squished between his waist and the sheets. His hard-on was poking it through his jeans. He took the opportunity to get some air and see who was calling. It was Kurt. Dennis remembered that he had said he’d meet Kurt at The Rooster, the dive bar downtown that never carded, where they could get plastered. But circumstances had changed in the form of a licked-open reddish-pink vagina between a pair of legs that had been propped in the air and now fell to a rest on the sheets as Janis opened her eyes and looked at Dennis, confused about the pause. Dennis ended the text break and dropped the phone under the arch of Janis’ left leg. It slid perilously close to her butt.
“What are you doing?” Janis said.
Dennis grinned with teeth.
“Just pausing to check the stock market,” he said. It was the first thing that had come to his mind.
He stopped smiling and looked into her eyes. Jogged into a new intensity, Dennis dove back in. He hooked his tongue in and out of her wetness and curled his head upwards until he was looking into the widened her mouth and kept her eyes open this time. In between rhythmic rests, she got her breath,
“Ah ah ah ah ah ah…”
And Dennis cavalcaded his tongue in circles. Janis began saying things forbidden in the Catholic church such as;
“Fuck…fuck…fuck…”
She spread her fingers out on Dennis’ head and moved her hand off it. Her legs were gyrating around again, lacking coordination this time, and she said,
“Shit! Shit…”
She only threw them in when Dennis’ head was still and his tongue was darting this way and that. Janis reached above her head with one hand, grabbing one corner of her pillow as she went,
“Ah-ha…AH –“
At which point she felt a pleasant wave of numbness between her thighs, which shut around Dennis’ head. She didn’t mean to do it, she just did it. She was reminded of the time she learned to ride a bike all by herself and felt weightless, and gripped the seat with her legs. She felt Dennis pushing his tongue deeper inside her.
Post thigh-closure, Dennis, for his part, heard not a thing. He wondered if this was the end; suffocated by 18 year-old former Catholic school girl’s thighs, RIP. Even if so, it was wrong to slow down the tongue action. He grabbed her legs and pressed them against his ears and cheeks. There were small pokes of hair starting to grow in, but otherwise she felt pillowy and rich, unlike the last girl he’d gone down on.
At that point, he got one of his awful ideas.
Dennis reached under Janis’ left buttcheek and produced his phone. He squirmed his head and looked up as he put it in front of his face. Janis’ head was overturned. She lay on her side on the nearest pillow, eyes shut and mouth jawing in and out. He brought up the camera app. He quietly blamed society and its neglect of Generation Z for what he was about to do.
Making certain to get her face on camera, Dennis snapped a picture.
Dennis unplugged Janis’ thighs from his head and jerked down again, acting on the rumor one of his fingers had relayed; that this chick was just sopping below his tongue. He pressed his tongue against her, again. She was sopping. Above him came the sond of a singular gasp from her mouth. He bobbed his nose inside her and Janis spazzed on to her right side, in the manner of one receiving electroshock therapy. This was the association Dennis made as he saw her body funnel away from his face; he’d seen it being administered in the hospital he’d been to in his seventeenth year.
Dennis sat up on his legs. He looked down at Janis, lying like a model for a Greek goddess, one arm akimbo with her head in the crook. Her face was red again and her eyes were shut and she was breathing through her smiling lips. He picked up his phone to take a picture of her again. Janis opened her eyes and looked up at him. She was ready to laugh and say something sweet. Instead, she saw Dennis pointing his phone at her. He froze for a moment, without taking a picture, strategizing his next move as soon as possible.
He produced the picture he’d already taken. He turned his phone around and showed it to her.
“That’s you,” Dennis said, licking his lips.
The confusion on Janis’ face was hard to quantify. She opened and closed her mouth as if trying to make a statement. Dennis nodded.
“You’re hot,” he said. “Congratulations.”
He jumped off her bed and put his shirt back on.
Watching the t-shirt bunch over his head, Janis saw Dennis as a faceless creature. She screamed at him,
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
Dennis’ head reappeared and he gave her a quizzical look.
“Chill…” he said. “You said you like photography.”
A cream colored Mickey Mouse pillow somersaulted through the air and hit his head.
“I literally cannot believe you. Get out! Get the fuck out!” Janis screamed.
Dennis left.
He texted the picture to his best buddies. In the text to Kurt, he typed the caption, Bro if I don’t show next time just assume I’m doing something like this. He captioned the text to Dirk; call her a pink.
Finally, he uploaded it to his computer. He texted Adria, the twenty-eight year old MILF from back home with whom he liked to have unprotected sex, Hey, you busy on Sunday?
Sometimes you get kids like this. Kids who aren’t kids anymore, because they’re legally adults, but the still act like kids, really fucked up ones, that is. They’re budding predators and sociopaths, but usually hurt very much inside. That was the case with Dennis. He knew it, too. He knew what sorts of girls would continue to fall for him and which weren’t worth his time. He knew what to do with those girls. He knew how to score some pot, talk his way out of a situation that didn’t benefit him, get away with a certain amount of illegality. But when he wasn’t doing these things, there was a void in front of him. So, it’s best to leave him alone, as he goes to sleep in his dorm room, with his memories of legs, and not ask much of him. He’s dreaming of some pale legs now, stretched out on the coffee-brown sand of a beach.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/10oa7bm/a_snapshot_college_story_19m_19f