“You’re not a jock, are you . . ” [MF]

My roommate sometimes came home with company. It made me feel like an antisocial weirdo if the girl saw me in the dark working by a lamp in the living room. I had courses like Latin, Chinese history, and American politics. Reed was on the football team and spent most of his year either at practice or at parties. They would startle and ask him “What’s wrong with him?” Reed would try to assure them I wasn’t anything to worry about and rush her to his bedroom.

The worst thing was when they’d want to know what I was working on. I’d say something evasive. There were some girls who’d turn items around on my table or start picking up books from my piles and fall into a chair. I didn’t want to distract Reed’s girls from his bed. He’d flop on the couch though and turn on the TV. Then he’d say “Why are the lights out, its too hard to see in here,” and he’d flip them all on. The TV would pull them away.

Now invaded by commercials blaring and lighting like a stadium and a couple half drunk horny students on the couch, I’d go to bed. Then I’d hear talking, then quieter talking, then no talking, followed by the sound of movements like a belt jingling, then the sound of couch springs, and finally the sounds of the girl moaning, groaning, or sometimes screaming in either true or faked pleasure.

One night, he brought a girl home who was one of those interested in what I was doing. But the TV didn’t distract this girl. She had short-cropped brown-blonde hair. I thought she was mocking me by putting on an exaggerated eye-popping expression when I answered her questions, saying “Oh yeah?” with over-the-top innocence and interest. But when I laughed at her act, she appeared confused.

I realized she was actually interested. She was one of those very curious people — an observer, like me, I thought. She’d say, “Really?” in a breathy conspiracy-revealed kind of way to mundane things I’d say. Her head would tilt, her mouth would open, and her eyes, big, round, and brown, would bore into mine.

Reed rose, turned off the TV, and said he’s too tired of my bullshit, and he was going to bed. He paused half-turned but the girl took her time before smiling and waving at him, saying, “Ok!” Only after a skip did she add, “I’ll be there in a minute,” and laughed at me with shrugging guilt.

After a a few minutes, we heard Reed snoring. She chuckled and slouched back in the chair and crossed her legs. She wore gleaming white tights that had loops pulled around the bottom of her feet, and a thick-woven brown sweater that bunched up around her neck. She held the sleeves up over her palms with her fingers and her nails were shiny pale pink. She looked up and around the ceiling. “You and Reed live here together?”

I said, “Yeah.”

She said, “Seems like a big enough place.”

I said, “It works.”

She said, “Why don’t you show me around?”

I found that odd, because there was Reed’s room, the living room, my bedroom, a bathroom she already visited, and a kitchen she went through to get to the living room, and nothing more.

“Well,” I said, standing. “My office,” I said, casting my arm around the living room. She laughed. We both kept it quiet so Reed didn’t wake up. I went over to my bedroom and opened the door. She brushed past me.

“My bedroom,” I said to her. I cast my arm around the tiny room and turned to find her so close behind me, we brushed against each other. She rose up on her tip toes and put her arms around my neck and began kissing me. I took tiny steps backwards and felt with my arms behind me for the bed. She followed me in tiny footsteps with her arms around my neck, and giggled. I fell back on the bed and she knelt over me.

She said, “You’re not a jock, are you.”

“About the direct opposite I guess,” I said.

“Guys like you are harder to meet because you never go out,” she said. She began to undo my belt.

I said, “I think we should close the door.”

She giggled again and jumped up, saying, “stay right there!” and she went out to the bathroom. She came back a few minutes later and shut the door behind her, carefully and quietly, and leaned against it. She said, “Don’t you ever wonder what you’re missing when other people are out?”

I lied and said, “Not really.”

She began to sway her hips side to side while slowly lifting the bottom of her sweater showing me more and more of her stomach.

“Are you sure?” she asked with a creeping smile, turning her face away to look at me askance. She lifted the bottom of her sweater further to show me the underside of her white lace bra.

“Okay,” I chuckled, “You’re right, you’re making me crazy right now.”

She laughed and lifted the sweater off her head and let it float down to the chair behind her. She snapped her head forward so her hair whipped over her face, she crossed her straight arms over her breasts, and wrapped her hands around the opposing sides of her waist. She began walking toward me by snapping her heels up sharply against her ass. She took three steps like that and then laughed and yanked her pants off and jumped onto the bed.

I “shh’ed” her in case Reed could hear. She turned to me with our faces close to each other on the pillow and said in a voice so low it crossed into a whisper, “Do you think he’d mind?” and she pressed her hand into my crotch as she said it.

Then she got on top of me, planted her hands on either side of the pillow, and said, “Tough titties for him, I’m sure he has a lot of girls,” and she leaned down and kissed my mouth. “Right?” she said.

I couldn’t argue.

She bit the side of her bottom lip, sat up straight, and reached behind her back to undo her bra. She looked for her sweater and flung the bra across the room to land on it. Then she propped herself over me so that one breast hung right against my mouth. I sucked on it and she brought the other one to my mouth. She rolled off and I laid facing her and ran my hand over her stomach, up to the bottom curve of her breast, then along the side up and up to her shoulder, where I circled a couple times before following the outline of her neck against the whiteness of the pillow. She stretched out her jaw when I got there, and I traced that out too. I touched the area of her neck just below her ear and she shivered.

She whispered, “How did you know about that spot?”

I leaned over and tried to kiss her there, but she pressed my face away and said, “You do that and it’s game over for me.”

She popped up and tugged at my pants. She stripped me and then, looking at me with her big innocent eyes, she took the head of my cock into her mouth and swirled her tongue around. I yanked on her panties and she pushed herself up to help me get them off. She sat down with her legs fanned out and her hand slowly stroking my cock, glistening from her saliva. She looked at me and said, “What do you picture yourself doing in ten years?” Then she took me in her mouth again as I thought.

“I’m not really able to think things like that if you’re going to do that,” I said.

She did the innocent questioning look again. “Oh no?” She swung her leg over me and straddled me. Kneeling over me, she reached behind her and took my cock in her hand and rubbed the head against her lips down there. Then she lifted herself and guided me into her. Pressing her hands on my stomach, she lowered herself onto me, letting out a gasp. While raising and lowering herself on me, she squeezed out between hard breaths, “Is this better for thinking?”

I laughed and reached for her breasts that I squeezed and twisted. Her hands went to cover mine. She snapped her head back and made a big long “Ahhhh.”

I reached to her ass and squeezed her there. She fell forward onto me and we rubbed and drove against each other like that but softly and slowly, kissing inside our heavy breathing.

With my cock deep inside her, she twisted her hips on top of me and planted the side of her head on my pillow beside me. She said, “Why does this feel so good?”

I said, “Well, in my psych 101 textbook, it says . . . “

She laughed and sprung up again and sat on me now without moving. Her hands kept her weight up pressing into my chest. Her short light hair framed her face lit up warmly by the lamp. She began to move very slightly, barely half an inch. We were quiet ike this a long time.

She said, “Do you like it?”

I nodded.

“Me too,” she said. Her mouth hung open and I saw her eyes stay closed with each blink. She crept her fingers back to adjust her hands and rolled her head around and back. I could see her back arch in the dim light. Still she rocked her pelvis hardly at all. She stopped moving at one point and shivered. She whispered more to herself than to me, “Oh my god, what you do to me.” Her pelvis started moving again, but very slow and very little.

I entered then a strange state. I was tired and it was late and dark in the room, and quiet. I was in the initial stages of falling asleep. My senses dimmed. My eyes closed like hers and my ears seemed to be turning off. My mind took on that wandering feel. I could feel my awareness of the girl drift in and out of reality. I could feel her motions on me the same way, consciously and then not, as slow waves. But one part of my consciousness remained focused in a heightened way. It wasn’t the feeling of my cock in her pussy, but the pure sensation of pleasure itself. It felt like I was slipping into and out of sleep, and the further I went down, the higher rose this new sensation of ecstacy.

I snapped out of it for a moment, realizing I might have been falling asleep with a girl on me, but I looked up at her, and on her face, in her undulating shoulders and neck and the slow waves that flowed up her spine, I saw her experiencing the same thing I had been experiencing. She rocked on me ever so slightly, her face looked asleep, and her breath was deep, slow, and rhythmic.

She opened her eyes right into mine, big, dark, and piercing. Her mouth formed an “O” shape and she squeezed her thighs tightly around me. Then she uttered a long “Mmmmmm,” closed her eyes, and said, “I think I’m in danger, you.”

After a few more minutes of this, she took herself off me and laid down beside me. She pushed herself into me as though trying to go inside. I wrapped my arms around her. She said, with eyes closed and her face pressed into my chest, “Is it okay?”

I nodded.

She said, “It would be so easy to fall . . . for you.”

In the morning, Reed woke us up without knocking on my door, but just opening it and shouting in, “You getting up? I’m driving if you want a ride.”

That’s when he saw the lump in my bed where she had fallen asleep. Her head raised, her eyes straining, her hair over her face.

“Oh shit, Claire!” Reed laughed and he shut the door.

“Uhh,” Claire groaned, and she rubbed the palm of her hand into her eye. “I think I had too much to drink last night.”

I asked her if we should go for breakfast.

She said, “I think I just need to get home. But thanks.” She dressed quickly. “Sorry,” she said, as she left my room and closed my door, finding her own way out.

When I asked Reed later about where he ran into her, he told me that he had forgotten she’d come home with him. He was happy one of us got to fuck her, he said. He was too drunk to do it anyway. He asked me if she was any good. I asked him again where he ran into her. He had no idea. He didn’t know where he was that night.

I searched for her everywhere but I never saw her again. We didn’t run in the same circles I guess.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/ck0ae3/youre_not_a_jock_are_you_mf