“C’mon, DJ, don’t you wanna fuck me?” she asked in her flirtiest tone. It wasn’t subtle, or artful, but she’d never needed to learn either of those skills.
“Can we just do this for a while? Kiss, cuddle… if that’s OK with you,” he said. He sounded nervous—nervous! A guy who’d been with at least six different women (that she’d watched happen with her own two eyes, not counting the ones she hadn’t) and could have any other he wanted, any time he wanted. Yet here he was, timidly asking if Brittney would pass up on sex with him and just kiss him. Hold him.
She did.
Ignoring everything else surrounding her feelings toward DJ, in the here and now… it was actually kind of wonderful.
It wasn’t unusual for guys to try this until they realized she didn’t demand it of them. Brittney was a sap, and passionate kissing had always been her biggest turn-on. That’s what always happened in her favorite movies—the man and woman fell in love, and kissed each other. There were no blowjobs or doggy style or tit-fucking or any of the things she usually wound up doing to satisfy her partner. Just kisses, and cuddles.
(She didn’t even really like sex that much—she’d just taught herself a few tricks to get her pussy wet enough that it went easily.)
“You’re sure you don’t want more? I’d be happy to…” She let his imagination finish the sentence. It was beginning to make her feel bad, actually. Here he was being so good to her, being the kind of guy she usually just fantasized about, and here she was, trying to manipulate him. Brittney hated manipulating people—it didn’t come naturally to her, and she felt gross whenever she did it. She’d always known she could manipulate guys—easily, in fact—but she thought very little of women who did that.
DJ smiled, smoothing back her hair—argh, I love it when guys do that—and kissed her forehead, then stopped the kissing altogether. “You know, right now, it’s hard to imagine ever wanting more than this.”
She kissed him again on impulse. He let her go at it for a bit, but when she stopped, he didn’t press for more. They just lie there, arms around each other, grinning and rubbing each other’s backs lightly. On her bare skin, it felt divine. She didn’t feel pressured, she sensed no impatience, no ulterior motive. DJ was bluntness itself when it came to going after what he wanted, and so she was sure that all he wanted was to stare into her eyes with his arms around her.
Then, a little voice inside her reminded her about the mostly naked girl who’d self-described as his sex slave a few hours ago, and she remembered she had a larger purpose here. How could she be letting herself be distracted so easily?
“So what have you been up to this week?” she asked, as innocently as she could. She was a terrible poker player; she could only hope he was as bad at reading a bluff as she was at running one.
“Oh, nothing much,” he said evasively. His hand on her back stopped.
“Classes going well?”
“Err, actually I haven’t really, um, been to them.”
“All week?” Brittney asked, genuinely surprised. “What stopped you—a funny thing happen on your way to the library?” Brittney wasn’t sure what that expression meant, but she’d heard it before.
“Well you, today.” He smiled. “One look at you and I just couldn’t make myself be anywhere else.”
She ignored the flutter his words put in her belly. What’s wrong with me? “You sweetie. What about rest of the week?”
“Lots of different things. You know how it goes.”
She giggled. “Um, nope, I went to my classes. I just don’t happen to have any today.” This was true. “C’mon, what’d you do? You know you can tell me. I won’t judge.” He was still avoiding eye contact, so she gave him a little kiss on the lips to regain his attention. “I mean, I saw you nailing a half dozen different girls over fall break and I didn’t complain once, did I?” (She hadn’t. Brittney didn’t like being cheated on, but this time had hurt less than it usually did. She just couldn’t be mad at him.)
“Yeah, I suppose that’s true. Well, here goes…”
He told her everything. About the anonymous girl he’d gone home with Monday, about Ashley and the library, then Ashley and their day together, about Emily and rounds, then Emily and her little submissive kink. To hear him tell it, Ashley was just besotted with him, and Emily was just a little weird and he was humoring her.
Brittney wasn’t sure what to make of it. Why would his co-worker suddenly feel a need to be his sex slave? Brittney could certainly understand letting DJ have his fun with her—obviously, there was nothing to do there but sit back and enjoy the ride as best you could—but why would she go seeking more? From their brief encounter this morning, it definitely didn’t seem like Emily was happy about their arrangement, and she didn’t think her hostility was rooted in jealousy. What, then?
With Ashley, however, she was much more clear on what was going on. She’d known plenty of girls like that—girls who would put themselves out there to land a hot guy, or a rich guy. Both, if they could.
She remembered a drunken conversation with Kristin Fitzgibbons, a friend of hers in high school, who’d told her all the things she was doing to keep her boyfriend Deon happy. He was getting a full ride scholarship for basketball, and even had pro scouts who’d looked at him. For Kristin, doling out blowjobs and tit fucks and dirty talk and foot rubs and anal sex and whatever other kink the guy wanted that day was a small price to pay for a shot at landing a future NBA player.
DJ, however, wasn’t like Deon. He’d never had a girl use him like that—until now, he’d never had anything a girl would want to use him for. The way he talked about her made it clear what a good job the girl was doing at working his ego to get a handle on him. It was one more reason Brittney was kicking herself for not keeping closer tabs on him—she’d let herself live a normal, DJ-free life for a few days, and look at what had happened. Whatever Ashley was really after, it couldn’t be anything good.
Brittney pulled herself from her thoughts and back into the present. “Well it sounds like you’ve been having a lot of fun,” she said. “I have to say, I’m a little jealous.”
“Yeah, I guess I just don’t know what to do with myself. Too many girls, too little me,” he said, forcing a chuckle.
Brittney reached a hand down between his legs and into his pants, giving his cock a nice squeeze. “Doesn’t feel little to me,” she said, moaning softly. At what, she didn’t know. He didn’t seem to care.
“Brittney, you’re… you don’t have to do that,” he said, gently removing her hand.
It was the first time Brittney could ever remember a boy trying to put distance between himself and her cock. She pushed herself up to her knees, looming over him, gravity fighting to tear her tits out of her top. He could almost certainly see her nipples like this, she was sure. “Brittney, you’re… what? What were you going to say?”
“Nothing,” he protested, keeping his eyes on hers and off her chest with nearly unprecedented successfulness compared to men past who’d been faced with the challenge.
“You were going to say something—tell me,” she insisted, moving to straddle his waist. She could feel his erection, lingering from the hours-long makeout session and his re-telling of his saucy tales, pressing into her pussy. Part of her mind began the exercises to get her wet for him, in case she needed it. “Am I not as pretty as those girls?”
“No! Brittney, no, you’re so much prettier than them, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on!” His hands, unbidden, moved to her hips.