ScrewyFox93, Author at NSFW story

Vanessa Part II: Having Fun isn’t Hard…

The music pounded in time to her heartbeat, overwhelming the nervous burn of her stomach. Vanessa entered the quad some thirty minutes after the End-of-Semester mixer started, just as the sun was sinking below the horizon. Yellow faded to orange, to red and pink, finally nothing. A scent of cheap cologne as a young man passed by, stirring her curiosity.

Where was the boy with the gray sweatpants?

As she had dressed for the night, not so easy in the cramped dorm room she shared, she had wondered if Kirk would actually be there. He had invited her—well, mentioned it to her— so he should be there. Of course, she herself had chosen to be fashionably late. No one showed up on time. It was an unspoken rule that only dorks and overeager outsiders came to anything when it started. The cool, the confident, they drifted in as the whim struck. So, as she showered, she took her time, gently scrubbing herself, letting the loofa wash away the traces of her little…indulgence in the library. Read more »

Vanessa Part I:

The Farhampton Library

Vanessa settled into her usual seat, the one farthest from the door. Farhampton U Campus Library was small enough that she could still see the door, but the chances of someone entering the building seeing her was slight. She saw the people, not the other way around. It had been a minor issue in high school but in college it was growing annoying. Hours of classwork, hours of homework, all equaled minutes of meaningful human interaction.

In short, she was lonely.

Nineteen years old and she couldn’t generate any interest in her nethers worth a damn. No human interest at any rate. A promo code plucked from the sponsored portion of an impotent YouTube video about something or other proved to be of great value. For the last six months odd hours could be spent in the arms of a discrete silicone lover. “Mr. Darcy,” as the little vibrator came to be known, was a fast and efficient beast, shaking off the worst days, every bad grade, every missed opportunity for real life. It was lightyears ahead of the old memory foam pillow she kept under her bed since puberty. Cranked up to a setting reminiscent of an electric sander, Mr. Darcy would dependably bring her to a wet mess in mercifully few minutes, a blessing when she had little time at the end of the day and less privacy. Read more »