Dennis and Janelle

Janelle watched as the wooden door clicked open and scraped against the linoleum floor, like all the doors did in all the dorms, and Dennis walked in, finishing a plastic cup of coffee, his hair pointing out on all sides. Janelle had put her bra on by now, but she still couldn’t find the motivation to get up from this gross bed. She could tell by the way Dennis paused that he was studying her legs. They were crossed over each other as she lay on top of his mattress with the sheets thrown on the side. She made a face that said she’d expected him to bring back food.

“I should really leave soon,” she said. “Whatever,” said Dennis. He sat at his desk and turned on his computer. He opened up World of Warcraft. “Um, Dennis? Did anybody ever teach you manners?” Janelle laughed as she said it. “Not really. My Dad was always yelling at me and my sister at inappropriate times. My Mom was always drunk. You do the math.”

The sounds of World of Warcraft began. From behind his desk, Dennis produced a bottle of Golschlager. He unscrewed the top and took a swig. Janelle stared at him.

“You aren’t serious,” she said.

Dennis took some time to respond.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he said.

“Because you're drinking for one. For two, I can never tell if you’re being serious or not. Everything seems ironic to you. Like a joke or something.”

“Maybe I find everything ironic and funny and serious.”

Dennis played the game and drank the booze. Janelle thought of the seizure he'd had weeks before on the couch at the frat party. She thought of the hospital they'd taken him to and how she had gone with him even despite the fact that she'd witnessed his face buried in a sorority girl's pussy earlier that same night. She remembered sitting by the bed and watching him sleep, probably for the first time in a few days, while the tattoo on his left arm bulged out under the IV. It had looked tragic and beautiful to her when she first met Dennis; now it just looked tragic. She had touched his face. He had turned to face her and said, "Thanks for coming out, babe."

Janelle had realized that was the first truly sweet thing he'd said to her ever. She thought at that moment that maybe she'd stop being girl number five or whatever she was for him now. He'd get out of the hospital, have a wake up call, change his ways entirely. She'd be number one.

Here Janelle was, weeks later, watching her delinquent freshman lover attach the bottle of goldschlager to his face, tilt his head back and chug.

She looked at the mattress. Underneath the rumpled red sheets curls of pubic hair. Perhaps this was the motivation.

She stood and took her jeans from the floor. She noticed her right bra strap was twisted. She flipped it around the right way. She pulled on her black panties that she’d been wearing for days. She threw on her blue silk shirt that made her itch. She didn’t look at Dennis but assumed he was watching her out of the corners of his eyes. She listened to the sounds of Dennis’ computer and marched over to him.

"Dennis, put it down. Please. Put the bottle away." She touched the bottle gently and Dennis held it in place. He looked at her like he expected her to take her hand off in due time.

She pushed it down and took it out of his hands.

“You remember what happened a couple weeks ago…you have to slow down.”

Dennis stopped tapping the keyboard. He stared at the computer and looked as if he was trying to control his breathing. Janelle didn’t know what it meant, but there was something imposing about Dennis, something intimidating, even with him sitting in that chair, a foot below her, dressed in a ratty shirt and cargo pants.

Janelle straightened her shirt.

“Okay, I’m going now. I’ve got homework to catch up on. I…”

Dennis pushed his computer down his desk until it bumped against his wall. He stood and strode over to Janelle.

"You're the only girl who can stand up to me like that," he said.

Janelle felt like smiling but knew she shouldn't.

“And you’re the only girl I’ve ever felt this way about,” he said.

Janelle felt like a camera was zooming in on her slowly.

“Felt what about?” she said.

“This absurd urge to fuck you.”

He said it like he was stating an item on a menu. Janelle turned and went to the door. She stopped and stared at the door handle. She heard him approach. She felt his hands slide across her stomach. Her shirt felt like it had already torn off under his fingers.

Janelle felt Dennis’ fingers and remembered sucking them the night before. She remembered his tongue swishing from side to side on her clitoris and up and down. His fingers were placed on her lips as if to silence her—and Janelle wasn’t that loud. She wanted to be straightforward in sex as she was in life. She would moan exactly as much as she enjoyed it, and she had enjoyed it moderately. When she felt Dennis’ tongue, it made her feel very strange at first; almost as if there were some kind of fish flopping around on her private parts. But this was because only one other guy had attempted to do this to her before, and he was a disaster. Unlike the other guy, Dennis knew what he was doing. His tongue moved the same way his personality moved; impersonal, energetic, fast, tingly. He rubbed two of his fingers on his other hand at a lower part of her clitoris while he worked with his tongue. So she had sucked on his middle finger and forefinger to know he appreciated it.

Then she thought of the look on sorority chick's face as she walked in to the frat house bathroom and saw them going at it. Sorority chick wasn't quite paying attention to her, of course. Her squinted eyes and parted mouth that sent out panting breaths with squeaky tones made it clear that she felt the same way about Dennis' tongue as Janelle. Janelle was momentarily turned on. Then the sorority girl noticed her in the room and said, "Oh shit…" Dennis thought she was talking to him and jacked his face vertically up sorority chick's absurdly trimmed vagina and once Janelle heard the noise of his tongue flicking around in wet staccatto rhythms and saw him curl his hand around sorority chick's buttock and slide fingers his fingers towards the lower region of her vulva, Janelle felt: Jealousy. Anger. Lust. That Dennis was a fucking asshole. She slammed the door on the sounds of the flakey basic-bitch orgasm that had just begun and intended to leave the party. How things would have been different if she had.

For instance, this morning, when she heard Dennis announce his desire, when she felt Dennis’ fingers fold together over her bellybutton, she was surprised. She thought he had wanted her to leave. She had wanted to leave. For some reason, now she didn’t. Dennis’ tongue flicked in to her ear. The thought of having actual intercourse with Dennis crossed her mind only then and she knew that if she didn’t do it she would feel bored. She would end up taking out the vibrator by the end of the day. So she turned around and her mouth met his.

On that same rumpled mattress, she pressed a hand to his chest while he moved in and out of her. She had a view of his chest, his neck and his red face as he moved fast and hard. Janelle shut her eyes and realized, momentarily, how loud she sounded. She knew she wouldn’t cum for another few minutes at least, and her moans were already this loud. Embarrassed, she used her other arm to bunch the pillow she lay on over her face. It didn’t muffle her that much.

Dennis’ cock moved even faster and he made some kind of satisfied grunting sound. He was turned on by her pillow move. Funny, that. In the brief pause between the trailing off of one moan and the start of another, Janelle threw in a “baby.” She smiled when she felt him get even more turned on. The walls of her clitoris contracted against his cock and retracted when it pulled out, which felt like several times a second. He was moving so hard and so quickly that she would feel sore for several days afterwards. Days after that, in a women's hygeine forum, she would coin the term “Accordion Fucking.”

Janelle began to feel the familiar tingling sensation in her groin. It pulsed up in to her thighs. She turned her face from the pillow—she needed all the air she could get at this time–and clawed at one of Dennis’ nipples. Every noise that escaped her mouth was aimed right at that nipple, as if she were broadcasting through a microphone. She saw Dennis’ chest muscles flexing and his skin reddening and it made her eyes widen. She said “I’m so…”, and forgot what she was saying for a moment. She felt a renewed moistness. She said, “wet.”

John heard the sex happening as soon as he woke up. It was, perhaps, the thing that woke him up. He hated living next door to Dennis. That moody, unpredictable dude who was somehow a chick magnet.

This girl’s moans sounded deeper than the previous girls he’d overheard. This one was moaning exactly in rhythm with the mattress squeaking. Dennis said something and John heard a smacking sound. Did he just slap her ass? Do they let him do that? John realized that, once again, he was hard. He’d had sex just once, months ago now, and it had been such a terrifying experience for him that the girl had never spoken to him again. He thought of the argument he’d overheard taking place in Dennis’ room just the week before. Some girl—a different girl, he felt—had been crying, telling Dennis that if he did not tell Janelle and Katie to get the fuck out of his life then she was never talking to him again. She called him a narcissist.

Dennis spoke in a low, calm voice. John had thought, at the time, maybe that’s the end of it. Now the female noises on the other side of the wall were reaching a higher pitch. The mattress sounded like it was shaking. The girl said, between broken breaths, “I’m so…wet.” And with that, John sighed to himself, got out of bed, and went to grab a tissue.

Weeks later, after Dennis had been expelled for a host of reasons, Janelle would tell her friend Kathy about how she had not expected him to pull out of her just before she could climax, fling his condom off and spray his cum all over her chest. He’d done it as if it was practiced and planned. She’d thought it was degrading.

Then why, Kathy had said, did you send him those photos? Why did you fuck him again? Janelle shrugged at this. She stared down at her lap. Her blue shorts that she’d owned since age fifteen were too tight on her now. Her skin bulged out from them. She thought of how the first time they met, Dennis had told her she had beautiful legs, and she remembered being charmed by the way he said it.

I dunno, she answered Kathy, in a quiet voice. He was charming, I guess.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/3vb313/dennis_and_janelle