He debated whether or not to go to Professor Foster's house on campus to talk to his patron, go to the library, or back to the Sigmas. If he went to see Lisbeth Foster, at least he'd have somebody to talk to. Still, she'd told him she had a bad backache, so she wouldn't welcome company. He wanted to find a Swedish masseuse for her, but Americans snickered at massage; somehow in their overheated minds massage was confused with sex. Now if he were back in Paris-
As he started out of the White Fountain, two attractive females appeared. One was a blonde, the other a redhead. He blushed and lowered his head so that he wouldn't have to meet their eyes; he could not stand the direct, appraising glance of Brighton coeds. Dating was particularly hard for him. He was supposed to be the suave Frenchman, but he always dropped and kicked things. His frat brothers, obligated to get him dates in fraternal comradeship, soon found out that he used up one girl per date. There were no repeats for Harold. He appreciated the dates all right, but when the girl was fast he was slow, or if he pepped up his conversation and approach, he was too fast and the girl too slow.
He tried to brush past the two girls. Good looking females especially disturbed him. Since he was small and a little portly he thought they scorned him.
Suddenly he was captured. Abby took his left arm, Cheryl his right.
“Hello, Harold.”
"How are you tonight, Harold?”
He stood there, blushing, astounded. The girls locked arms with his and moved him up the aisle. Other students stared at him, especially the males, as he was escorted through the White Fountain with a lovely on each arm.
"Ah, hello. Hello there," he said. There was something vaguely familiar about the blonde. He blushed furiously.
"Where's your car, Harold?”
"We want to talk to you in your car.”
"My car-car?" he stammered. He felt captured, like in those gangster movies where the hard types came for you.
"Yes, your car-car," said Cheryl..
One wore thin beige pants and a satin blouse. The other wore cut-off jeans that showed thigh and boots. A cape across her shoulders made concessions to the cold fall night outside.
"I-left it outside," he said. "My car, that is, I mean.”
He felt very hot in the grasp of the two sexy girls. He saw that his mind was not going to function well tonight, saying dumb things like that.
"Good thinking, Harold. Leaving your car outside.”
"It would be stupid to send your car into the White Fountain while you stood at the curb," said the other.
"Still, it would be easier on your stomach," said Cheryl.
They eased him into the car between them. The blonde took the driver's seat and the redhead the other side. Four well shaped thighs graced his front seat.
"Are you comfortable, Harold?" The redhead put a warm hand on his cheek and turned his head so that their eyes met.
"We want you comfortable," said Cheryl.
She undid his necktie and the top button of his shirt. Harold was the only student among the Sigmas who wore neckties.
"What-what is this?" he squeaked.
The redhead put a hand on his thigh and ran it up toward his crotch. The blonde did the same on his other thigh, only the hand traveled to his zipper. She unzipped his pants and he felt the cold night air on his belly.
"This is a conversation in the front seat of Harold Lissac's car, with Abby and Cheryl," said Abby. Still holding his head, she kissed him on the mouth. At that moment Cheryl reached inside his pants and lifted out his soft cock and balls.
Harold almost went through the roof of the car. Nothing like this had ever happened to him. One minute he was living his ordinary, miserable freshman life, the next two beautiful creatures appeared, taking him to his car and beginning to fool with his cock.
"Zut!" he said. He rattled off a startled sentence in French and squirmed. "Do you-are you-should we-" he stammered.
"Yes, yes, and why not?" said Cheryl calmly. Harold had a small prick, but in her warm, soft hands it began to uncoil rapidly. She'd laid down the strategy to Abby as they raced toward their target.
"So far we've failed to get Salt back because we've taken the logical, feminine approach," she said. "All we've gotten is screwed by those boys with hot balls. Let's do it different with this Harold. Overkill. Spider tells me he's a turkey. We'll move in fast, capture him, take him to his car and boil off his pronger before he starts games. Once he's de-spunked he won't use Salt to get freebies.”
"My God, you mean just maul his zinger?”
"Sure. I'm determined to jump off the merry-go-round. If it takes sex, we'll use it, fast and slick. He'll have no excuse to hold back then. Male thinking.”
"If you say so.”
Harold began to sweat, his prick jutting up in the warm, silken hand, his belly thrilling, especially with the redhead nibbling at his neck.
"You-woooo-are mas-jack-doing me!" he squealed.
"In America it's called 'masturbation'," sang out Cheryl happily. She was aware of Harold's background from Spider. His smallish prick had now risen to almost the standard six inches.
"I know what it's keeee!-called," he stuttered.
Cheryl was delighted with her bold approach and the look and feel of the innocent little cock.
"And what do you call this, Harold?" she asked. She bent and slipped his straining cock into her mouth.
"Yorrrrrrrp," he said.
"I knew it was called yorp," said Abby with a laugh.
"I just couldn't think of the right word… let me have a taste.”
"Vanilla," said Cheryl with a gasp. Her cunt had heated as she pulled back.
Abby sucked the short cock into her mouth and flexed it so that Harold surged up between them.
"Strawberry, I think," gasped Abby after a moment. "I think it's virgin cock. Are you a virgin, Harold?”
"I-me-oh, oh, oh," went Harold as Cheryl immediately took over the cock suck and ingested his prick deep in her mouth.
Abby grabbed one hand and pressed it over her big breast, sexy in the warm satin. Her nipple sprang to life as Harold instinctively clutched the soft tit and groaned from the feel of it through the sexy cloth. She directed his other hand to Cheryl's crotch.
"Put your hand between Cheryl's legs," said Abby. "A virgin has to start somewhere.”
"Inside pants," cried Cheryl, coming up for air. She broke the zipper on her cut-off jeans and pushed Harold's hand down her belly to her wet, warm cunt. At the same moment Abby leaned forward to take over the cock suck, Harold's clinging hand stayed right with her sexy breast. She did something and eased his hand inside the satin so he had the taut globe naked to his palm.
"It's happening, and I don't even know you!" cried Harold happily, at last convinced that his great day had come.
"Oh, you know me," said Cheryl. "You helped me climb a tree at the Sig house last night… anything boiling down there, Abby?”
"Not yet," gasped Abby, coming up for air. "Except his hand on my boob and his prick in my mouth are making me dizzy.”
"Mark this event, Harold," said Cheryl. "It's a first on the Brighton campus. A double girl suck." She went down on his prick.
She marveled at the adaptability of the human being, especially in the sex area. Harold had already accepted the situation and keened with soft grunts and twists in extreme pleasure. She liked his smallish prick and worked his hand on her cunt to increase her own sex rushes. She wanted to drive Harold to bursting, but Abby pulled her head back.
"My turn.”
She surrendered the prick reluctantly. The sex was serious now. It started as a lark, but she earnestly wanted to feel that young, virgin cock pumping hot semen into her mouth. Harold was a sight to see totally captured by the two females, arms crossed over, one hand holding Abby's breast, one dug into Cheryl's cunt. He wasn't an expert, but he didn't have to be. He couldn't miss her clit.
She turned Harold's face toward her, and she kissed him on the mouth, driving her tongue between his surprised lips. He took to the French kiss like the Frenchman he was after only a slight hesitation. His warm body was putty in their hands, his stiff prick jogged, and Cheryl could tell by his excited breath popping on her cheek that he didn't have far to go.