We find our way to a quiet corner of the big house. Not that it was quiet anywhere, the bass thumping loudly from the basement bar. But up here, sitting on the dining room floor leaning on the wall, we can hear each other.
We sip our drinks, a beer for me, a plastic cup of Everclear kool-aid punch for her. She tells me about her art and design classes, I try to describe thermodynamics. Different worlds, but an attraction is there.
This is not the typical college party, not for me. The hosts are at a tiny private liberal arts school known for a good basketball team. To make the party bigger, they invited a couple dozen of us from the engineering school a few miles away, and put up posters at the fashion design school. It was a mixing bowl.
She’s a junior, a year ahead of me, and wants to design clothing. She’s pretty in that artsy way, a style I rarely saw in my hometown. Her hair is a dirty blonde, in a fashionable bob cut. She’s pale, with smoky blue eyes, and more lower lip than upper, giving her a natural pout. Her lipstick is dark, not at all right for her hair and eyes. She’s wearing a close fitting ribbon style necklace, black or a dark maroon, also wrong for her color. Her dress is a foresty, deep green, mid thigh covered, with half sleeves.
I’ll look back and realize that Greta was a blue-eyed blonde girl that wanted very badly to be dark and mysterious. At the time, in my eyes, she’s cute and weird, which I really like. She’s a total contrast to my girlfriend since high school. GF is off at state college, and is what we will eventually call “ basic.” Looking back, she was a great first GF, but she’s getting her M.R.S. Degree in homemaking. We will drift apart eventually.
Greta is a talker, and I’m mesmerized. She tells me she’s trying out Greta, so don’t freak if her friends call her Maggie. She complains about her mother saddling her with a traditional name like Margaret. She asks me what I want to do or be, my dreams of rocket engines and math as strange to her as A-line skirts and tapered cuts sound to me. Different worlds, but an attraction is there.
She puts a hand on my arm, and swings her knees to lean on my legs. It’s coquettish, sexy and at the same time demure, and she’s paying attention to my every word. Good signals, and it’s then that she notices her cup is empty. Mine has been for minutes, but I wasn’t going to ruin the moment. It’s not a moment yet for her, and she stands and tells me we are going for refills.
Downstairs, the basement bar is a zoo. Arrogant boys with one arm on the wall are chatting up girls they think are trapped. Those girls preen and position themselves to show cleavage and leg, laying traps of their own. The bar is three deep waiting for drinks, but I’ve got advantages. I’m the biggest person in the basement, with a booming voice. But my number one advantage is that my buddy “angry Mike” is manning the taps, and he sets me and Greta up fast, over the complaints of the other waiting party-goers. He’s at home behind the bar, but seems pissed that I’ve got a girl on my arm. I’m sure he’s glaring as Greta and I make our way back upstairs.
A clutch of her friends intercept us at the stairs. I know I’m being judged, poorly, not stylish at all in jeans and a rugby shirt, curly mop of hair, ordinary shoes. At least twice I hear “Maggie”, not “Greta”, and she rolls her eyes, correcting the girl. The fashion girls are all quirky. One with a shaved side of her head, another with three earrings in one ear, unheard of in 1989. Avant-garde clothing choices, even a pair of Chuck Taylor sneakers on one girl. Eventually Greta breaks us away, and I follow her up the stairs.
Back in our dim corner, cool Greta gives way to boundary-pushing Greta. I don’t know if it was her friends dismissive attitude or the alcoholic punch sending her in this direction. She turns to me, dead serious. “If you can guess what color my bra is, I’ll show it to you.”
I think for a moment… “green.” Her jaw drops, and she looks down, to see if it was somehow showing.
“How did you know that?” She asks me, sure that I cheated.
“If it was black or white, you wouldn’t ask, too easy. Your dress is green, and you go to fashion school. I figured it would match.” She looks at me doubtfully, then shrugs and asks me to unzip her in the back. As the zipper passes her bra strap, I see the green lace.
She turns when the zipper is down, and shrugs out of the sleeves, holding the loose dress in front of her chest, teasing. Then she flips the dress down, showing me her bra. She’s thinner than my girlfriend, but she’s got nice little boobs. She thrusts her shoulders back, sticking them out for me. “Do you like green?” she asks in a voice layered with both snark and promise.
“I like green. You look great.” They are nice boobs, filling the small lace cups, a hint of pale pink nipple through the green lace. I put my hand on her cheek and eye contact evolves into a brief kiss. She pulls away abruptly, thinks for a moment, then comes back to the kiss. She has a hand on the back of my head, in my hair. I think she’s trying for “running fingers through his hair”, but mostly she’s just pulling it a bit. A for effort though.
She takes one of my hands and puts it on her breast. I squeeze, and she moans. Then I realize we are in a room with no doors, and break off the kiss to look around. No one here, good. “Do you want to go upstairs, one of the bedrooms?” I ask, hopefully.
She makes the same thoughtful face she did when she interrupted the kiss, then says yes, pulling her dress back up and asking me to zip her up. The second floor rooms are locked, all five. The first door we try on the third floor opens. I make a little prayer that these guys don’t get lucky tonight, we are about to use one of the beds.
I lock the door and turn around. Greta is already out of her shoes, and needs help again to unzip. I unzip her, but this time I put my hands under the back of her dress. I slide it off her shoulders and run my rough hands down from shoulders to knees as I take the dress off of her. She trembles, I’m still behind her, and I kiss her neck from behind, hands on her hips. She trembles again, and I feel her squirm her hips.
She spins, and kisses me. We are inexperienced, it’s a hard and eager kiss, both of us driven by deep urges we are just starting to understand. We stay locked at the lips, and she pulls my rugby shirt up. She realizes we will have to break the kiss to get it over my head, and pouts as we do. She leans back, looks at me. I feel judged again. I’m built solid, not a thin model type, not a v-shaped lifter, just a big athlete. I may not be made to model clothes, but Greta decides I’m good enough to take the rest of my clothes off.
She can’t work my belt, and after a little help there, she takes off my pants. I’m hard in my shorts, and she smiles. “May I?” She asks, and I’m nodding as she says it. With her finger she traces the outline my cock is pressing into my shorts, and says “nice”. As she lowers my shorts, the elastic takes the head of my dick with it, pointing down but straining up. She gets the elastic band past the head, and my cock springs up, rock hard, wobbling before coming to a stop. It’s pointing straight out, a deep pink, head throbbing and a darker pink.
It’s pointing at a spot halfway between her bellybutton and her bra line as she stands. She looks at it and likes what she sees, and grabs it. She strokes my hard dick, up and down a few times, then stops her hand at the base. She wraps her other hand around, above, a two handed grip, leaving the swollen head outside her grasp, unattended. She jerks it slowly with both hands, short motions, mesmerized. She seems entranced, lost in my dick, and I ask if I can take off her bra. I fumble with the hooks, but it eventually comes loose. Her hands are busy, so I remove her bra and admire her perky boobs. They are round, not large but nice to look at, capped by conical pink nipples, giving them a pointed shape in the front. Very pretty. As I begin to play with her nipples, she moans, still lost in massaging my dick.
We make our way to the bed, and she tightens her grip on my cock, stroking one handed now, up and down. I have my hand through the band of her panties, squeezing her ass, when she grabs my wrist. She brings my arm around, and puts my hand lower, on her pussy. I’m romance-dumb, but I get the hint, and start fingering her, pressing her clit with my thumb as I stroke her lips and slide a finger inside.
She moans, and pulls closer, chest half pressed to mine, hand jerking me too hard. I’ve got streaks and marks of her dark lipstick on my neck and shoulder, and even some light bite marks. We pull her panties off, she’s naked now except for her choker necklace. I ask if she wants to fuck. She squirms and nods. I find my pants and get the condom out of my wallet, and wrap up.
She lies back on the bed, and raises her knees. “Come on, baby, I want you,” she says, and pushes her tits together, pinching her nipples as I get onto the bed. I get between her legs, trying to line up, and she uses a hand to spread her lips wide for me. I press through her lips, and slide forward an inch. She moans. A moment later she says “slow down” but I look down, I’m barely in her. But I slow down anyway. She’s hot, sopping wet. The smell of her, the look on her face, the creak of the strange bed, her jiggling boobs, it’s a bit much. I’m giving her short little strokes, and she’s making pretty little noises. Her short nails are digging into my upper arms, and I feel my blood rising. Already? I’ve barely fucked her. I don’t want to come yet, and I pull out.
I ask how she feels about doggy style, and I swear to you she growls, makes a little bark sound, and says yes. She gets up on all fours and wags her ass at me. OK, girl likes doggy a lot. I ask her to drop to her elbows, the angle is easier, and she does. I’m trying to relax from my near orgasm, so as she wags her ass again, I put one thumb into her pussy as I squeeze her ass. She squeals and bucks back, thinking the penetration was my dick, and almost dislocates my thumb. I put my other hand on her back and press down, she collapses from her elbow propped position to lay her head on her folded arms. I hold her down and steady by the small of her back while my other hand explores her raised pussy. She let’s out a long moan. Girl *really* likes being held down.
After my calming break from action, I’m ready to fuck again. I line up my dick with her shiny lips, and rub my head up and down her, gliding in her slickness. She’s more than ready. I push forward, slowly, remembering her hesitation when we were in missionary. She forgets. A moment after I push through her lips, she tries her trick again. She bucks backward onto me, hard. I’m guessing that her former partners were smaller, as her sounds turn from a practiced “mmmmmm” to an uncomfortable “ahhh-ahhh” as it goes deeper than she’s expecting. After a couple dozen strokes, those sharp “ahhh” sounds slowly turn into little “ohhh” sounds, she relaxes inside. She starts fucking back, matching my strokes.
She asks me to smack her ass, and I do, very lightly. She asks for more, harder, and I spank her hard enough to leave red finger marks. She starts fucking back violently, her grunts making me harder, pushing me closer.
She tells me to “use her,” and I push her upper body into the mattress, leaving her ass high. I grab her by the waist, pulling her aggressively onto me with each long, deep, full stroke. Switching to the long strokes gives me a reprieve. My red handprint is glowing on her ass. She moans into her arms. She gave me little bites before, and she’s making teeth marks in her own forearm as I drive into her. This is totally unlike the unvarying missionary sex the GF and I have, Greta’s got a bit of the freak to her, rebelling against expectations.
Greta is pushing back, fucking me as much as being fucked. She’s enjoying the hard pounding, my tight grip, the deep strokes. Her soft squeals complement the hard slaps of my groin into her ass and thighs. I know I’m getting close, a few minutes are all I can last.
As that thought crosses my mind, suddenly she screams like a cat whose tail got stepped on, and tries to claw forward and get off my cock. I think it’s part of the little show she’s been giving for the last 20 minutes, and I grab her harder, pump her faster, and finish a few moments later.
As soon as my hands release her hips, she scrambles off my cock and lies against the headboard. “What the fuck were you doing, how did you do that?” She is a bit frantic. I’m worried that I hurt her somehow.
“I was fucking you, I didn’t do anything different, just kept going, did I hurt you?”
“No, you didn’t hurt me. It was crazy, like my insides were on fire in waves. How did you do that, can you do that again?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Oh, man, ok, it’s ok, I’m better now. I’m relaxed. That was really nice.”
I’m young, girls are a bit of a puzzle to me, Greta is more puzzling than most girls, and my brain is still in a post-cum haze. I’m confused. “Then why did you jump off?”
“It was too much. Do you think I had an orgasm? Maybe it was an orgasm.” She is babbling now, sitting up on her knees, her dark-girl affectations disappearing behind her enthusiasm for the concept of an orgasm. “Can you fuck me again?”
I know I can, I’ve had those teenage nights where I waste half a box of tissue, going six or seven times. But that was by myself, and I’m not so much of an optimist that I bring more than one condom with me to a party. I tell her I don’t have another rubber, and she goes through our unwitting host’s nightstand, hoping he’s got one. He does not.
We sit naked on the bed and talk a while. She doesn’t think any of her friends have had an orgasm with a boy inside her before. She’s had little fluttering shivers that she called orgasms when she played with herself, but that wave of pleasure was like the sun compared to a candle.
We dress, and exchange numbers, and head back down to the party. We leave a messy bed and open drawers behind, and a full condom in the trash can. Don’t know who this dude is, but he hates me now, I’m sure. Greta is draped on my arm as we enter the basement bar again, a far cry from the aloof dark girl I met a few hours earlier. She grins at her friends who peel her away for gossip, but not before she can plant a very sloppy kiss on me.
I hang at the bar for a while, dorky just-fucked expression on my face, making small talk with the crowd. Greta returns a half-hour after leaving me, makeup fixed, hair back in place. She’s got her dark expression back, again the serious, sarcastic, artsy chick I chatted with in the dining room. Her friends are nowhere to be seen.
She grabs me by the shoulder and makes me bend down to bring my ear to her height, and she urgently whispers “Get a condom from your bartender friend, we are going back upstairs”. Mike doesn’t have one, or lies about it, but one of the dudes from this building hears the request. He reaches into a pocket and hands me a condom, tells me I’ll pay it back someday. Good guy.
We make our way back to our room, but it’s locked now. We try the rest of the floor, no luck, and the second floor remains unavailable as well. Every time we’ve slowed down as we’ve searched, we grope each other, or share a frantic, urgent kiss. Frustrated, we go into a stairwell. We make out on the stairs for a while, then check the rooms again. Still thwarted.
I ask if she wants to go out to my car, but she’s not into that. We end up groping each other and kissing in a couple dark corners before returning again to the bar. We are going out next Friday. I’m pretty sure it’s a proper date, but she’s asked me to meet her at her apartment, and we don’t discuss dinner plans. At 3 am, her friends peel her off me to go home. The blonde who wanted to be dark is drunk and well fucked. She’s halfway between Maggie and Greta, with a dash of the girl who barks and wags her tail before fucking doggy style.
I do like the weird girls, the interesting personalities. Tonight, it seems I got lucky to find even more than I expected, and so did Greta.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/atk1a3/basement_bar_upstairs_room_mf_spanking_biting
Very nice and hot. Good writing with some character depth.
Username lives up to the content. This was a great read!