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An
image is burned into my memory. Marianne is on her back, her legs
drawn up, knees by her ears, breasts squashed almost flat under
them. Marianne was one of the few women I've seen whose breasts
didn't flatten and pool when they're on their back. Hers retained
a mounded shape. They were flattened now by her legs. Her eyes were
shut and there was a smile on her lips. The smile came after she
downed a half glass of liquor, from the bottle she brought to the
room, breaking one of the cases in the trunk.
I
was fucking her slowly and methodically, in her tight ass, her body
shuddering continually in what I took to be an unending orgasm.
She'd, and there's not good word for this, stuffed the coke bottle
bottom first into her cunt. About an inch of neck protruded and
I'd hit this now and again, a surprising yielding feeling.
She
was open beneath me, the happiest I'd ever seen her, at least I'd
like to think that. What was gone was that superior wordy edge she
always seemed to use as a shield.
I
came and pulled out. A thin line of blood streaked my cock. She
lay there shuddering, stopped after a bit, and fell asleep.
I
left the bed expecting her to wake in a minute or two but she slept
for hours, not moving at all, the coke bottle neck slowly receding
from view, her anus closing.
I
bathed, dressed, trying to make as little noise as possible, and
sat by the bed watching her for a while. When it was plain she wasn't
going to wake soon I got my books from the car and brought them
up to the room. I worked on homework or read until five which is
when she said she needed to go back.
I
kissed her awake, tried to remove the bottle but couldn't.
"What
time is it?"
"A
little after five."
"I
need to get back." She was in her efficient mode now. She extracted
the bottle from her cunt, leaving it on the bed, poured several
inches of liquor into a glass and drank it like water. She smiled
at me, got up off the bed, steadied herself and began to dress.
"Last
night I woke up several times and they were still fucking me. I
felt so much safer than at Joe's. There I'd leave the door open,
but I never felt safe. Someone terrible might come in. Still,"
she turned to me, pulling up her panties, "nothing bad ever
happened. But last night was special. This afternoon with you was
special. I can trust you utterly. I can't say that about many men.
You felt incredible. Thank you."
She
put on her bra, changed her mind, removed both panties and bra.
Grinning at me she said, "Don't need those where I'm going,
do I?" She put on her blouse and skirt, fastened the zipper
and button, put on shoes without socks. "What time do you have
to be out of here?"
"Eleven."
"So
soon? Oh well. Come by after you check out, I should be ready."
She poured more in a glass, downed that. "I'll leave the bottle
for you."
I
made her stop and eat a sandwich before going back. We got there
close to seven, parking several blocks away. Like she'd said, there
were no parking spaces on Greek row.
"Come
in with me." She took my hand and drew me up the short steps.
There were Greek letters over the door but I couldn't tell you what
they signified. I'll call the fraternity the Xetas. She gave a special
knock and it was Gary who opened the door.
"You're
back." He sounded surprised.
"Of
course. I said I would be. Is Paul around? I have the hooch."
Her posture showed a barely repressed excitement.
"I'll
get him." He gazed at me and didn't look like he remembered
our earlier meeting. "Come in."
Marianne
led me into a large room filled with guys, most in suits, and a
few girls. They were sitting and listening to the record player,
some jazz. About half were in chairs or sofas and the rest were
on the floor. We could hear somebody talking loudly in another room
nearby.
Marianne
went in immediately, leaving me by the hall door. A tall guy came
in and went to her, putting his hands on her hips as they talked.
Marianne came over to me as the guy shouted, "Our angel of
mercy has arrived. The party is saved." Some people looked
up but didn't appear that interested.
Marianne
said to me, "You'll need to help the Xetas with the booze."
She had a huge smile on her face.
When
I returned with those selected to help, each carrying a case, things
were more party-like in the House. I ended up sitting with a group
in a smaller room. Marianne had been drinking from a glass and mixing
socially. There were maybe twelve guys and two girls besides Marianne.
Music, louder now, came from the other room. One of the girls seemed
to be taking turns sitting in guys' laps and laughed a lot. Everybody
talked loudly. One of the guys said there was beer in the kitchen
and I left to find it.
The
House was filling up with drinking, laughing, shouting people and
I was never able to find the kitchen or beer. I made it back to
the room and Marianne was sitting on somebody's lap, her blouse
open, falling off one shoulder, her skirt up around her hips. She
leaned back against him and he must have said something funny because
she started laughing, swinging one arm in the air. She turned to
listen to what someone was saying next to her and fell forward,
catching herself.
One
of the girls looked like she was asleep, in a couch's corner; the
people sitting next to her ignored her. A guy making the rounds
with a bottle filled Marianne's glass. She finished the glass, set
it on her leg where it and her hand wobbled.
The
next I looked the glass was gone, as were Marianne's blouse and
skirt. She was sitting on a different lap, her arm around his neck,
looking like she might fall off, listening to what two other guys
were telling her. One of the guys as he talked to her used his fingers
to flick her nipple now and again.
I
had to take a piss and left. Not finding a bathroom I went out into
the back yard and marked a bush. Other guys elsewhere in the dark
sounded like they had the same idea. Going back in I got turned
around and was lost for a few minutes before I found the room again.
Marianne
was in a different lap and the guy held her back against him, his
hand kneading her breast. She was saying something and he laughed,
dropped his other hand to her leg.
A
girl came in, stood in the doorway for a moment, then sat on the
floor next to me. The other two had gone somewhere else; she was
the only girl in the room other than Marianne.
People
were coming in and out continuously and often my view was blocked.
Naked, Marianne moved from lap to lap like the girl earlier. Each
one felt her breasts and fingered her. Her expression was constantly
changing as she switched partners. It would change from one of joy
to one of appeal. To a dazed look as if she were having trouble
figuring things out. Her joy was wide open, like a child's and if
she appeared happy in the motel room earlier, this was happier still.
She talked with her neighbors or the one holding her, her motions
exaggerated, often almost falling sideways or forward. I wasn't
the first to notice that her hips were moving in response to the
fingering.
I
got distracted and now she was on her feet, in a clutch as if dancing,
someone's fingers working in her as she was passed from partner
to partner, her buttocks thrusting.
Two
things happened at the same instant. I realized they were playing
with her, taunting her deliberately. They knew she didn't want foreplay.
They knew this finger play was driving her crazy. At that instant
the girl next to me put her hand on mine and squeezed. Her lips
were moving as she watched Marianne. Perhaps she only now realized
Marianne was having orgasms, there in front of everyone, all measure
of modesty dropped. Marianne was their common toy.
She
ended up in Paul's arms, he laughing when she tried to pull his
shirt up, to get into his pants, as the man holding her from behind
worked his fingers in her, making comments to any who wanted to
hear.
Paul
yelled, "Everyone shut up." In a softer voice, "You
were saying?"
Marianne
mumbled something, for some reason looked at me with a look as if
she couldn't stand such exposure.
"Louder,
I can't hear you."
Marianne
said something but all I heard was please. The girl's fingers never
left my hand.
"I
still can't hear you. Shut up everyone. The slut has something to
tell us." He smiled at her. "Go on."
"I
want to go upstairs."
"What's
so special about upstairs?"
"Like
last night." Again that look at me. "Please."
"You
remember the song you learned? If you can sing it perfectly, you
can go upstairs. Jimmy, let up a minute."
The
guy behind her stepped away; they all backed away so only Paul and
she were in the center of the room. Paul then backed away and left
her by herself.
She
sang it once, halting few times, but in a voice so low I don't think
anyone could hear all the words.
Paul
said, "You'll have to do better than that. Louder. So everybody
can hear the slut. We're waiting."
She
licked her lips, hands down at her sides. Her effort to concentrate
was obvious as she sang louder.
The
song she sang was terribly ephemeral. I can remember only the feeling
that went through me, not the words (except the last two lines)
or the tune.
I
like to fuck.
I like to suck.
I don't care how many.
I don't care how often.
I'm Xeta's whore.
I
like to fuck.
I like to suck.
Stick it in my sloppy cunt.
Up
my ass or down my throat.
I'm
Xeta's whore.
The
girl next to me was mouthing the words as Marianne sang.
I
like to fuck.
I like to suck.
I like it hard and fast.
I like it more than anything.
I'm Xeta's whore.
I
like to fuck.
I like to suck.
Use me as you will.
I'll always come back for more.
I'm Xeta's whore.
I'm
Xeta's whore to use and throw away.
I'm trash. I'm dirt.
Because I like to fuck.
Use me up the ass.
I'm a whore for you and your friends.
Toss me away when you're done.
And I'll come back begging for more.
Because I'm Xeta's whore.
Paul
said, "Jimmy, did she get it right?"
"Almost.
She left out the stanza about horses and dogs."
Marianne's
eyes found mine and darted away.
"You'll
have to do better."
Marianne
pleaded. "Please you guys. I came back and I'm begging for
more. I'm your whore."
"Maybe
we can let her go upstairs if she tells each of us in this room,
sincerely, what she is. Is that okay?"
Marianne
who was always so capable was beginning to lose it. She was crying
and hiccuping and starting to sway as people around her talked.
Jimmy
said, "Sure, Paul. How about if we make it easy for the poor
girl. She can just tell me. Is that okay, everyone?"
Paul
told Marianne, "Go on. Tell him. Tell him what you are and
what you want."
Marianne
turned to Jimmy and steadied herself. "I want to fuck"
"Stupid
slut. Show me. Down here." Jimmy had his fly open, cock hanging
out.
Marianne
smiled, again glancing at me, that special smile with her tongue
barely showing. She knew her ordeal was almost over.
She
knelt and crawled to Jimmy, her hands to her sides. "I'm Xeta's
whore who's come back to fuck and suck. I want it up the ass and
down my throat. Do what you want. Toss me away and I'll come back
to fuck and suck." She leaned forward and touched her tongue
to the cock, twisted her head to get it into her mouth where it
slowly hardened.
The
girl next to me was licking her lips and for some crazy reason I
leaned over, turned her head toward me and kissed her hard. She
instantly became limp and started to fall so I held her with both
hands.
"Don't
swallow it when he's done with you."
We
kissed, there was a cheer.
"Show
us you're a Xeta slut."
The
girl pushed away from me, went back to staring at Marianne. I caught
just a glance of Marianne as she stood, mouth open, come spilling
out, as Jimmy held her, fingers deep in her. "The bitch is
trying to eat my hand," he said.
"Can
she go upstairs, everyone?"
There
was a loud yes and I couldn't see any more as everyone stood and
people left the room, including the girl and Marianne. I sat alone
for a while, already deciding I wasn't going up. I'd seen enough.
I had a long drive tomorrow and felt half drunk though I'd not touched
a drop.
At
the car the girl from the library and another were waiting for me,
sitting in the front seat. I sat in the back. "You guys are
going to have to leave."
"We're
going with you. My name is Sybil and this is Brenda. I don't know
why in the world my parents named me Sybil. You like Roman art?"
"It
was something to look at."
"I
like that book, too. Where's your girlfriend?"
"She's
at a party. I'm going back to the motel. Get out of here."
"Is
she a Barkley girl?"
I
nodded.
"I
thought so. She was in the same academy class as my sis. I thought
she looked familiar. Which one is she?"
"Marianne."
"She's
pretty. So why aren't you at the party?"
"Get
out of here."
"She
not the oneMarianne's the wild one, isn't she? Again? Tonight?
She must be a glutton, or something, for punishment. The guys here
give me the creeps."
"I'm
not impressed either. So are you going to leave?"
"Nope.
We're going to the motel with you. What do you think of beatniks?"
"Haven't
thought much." I got out of the car, opened the driver's door.
"Slide over." Sat down behind the wheel. "You don't
know me from Adam."
"We
can't go yet. Amy felt a call of nature. She'll be back in a minute."
"I'm
not up to this, you know."
"We're
freshmen, easily tamable. You'll see."
"How
about before we go to the motel you guys treat me to a pie or cake
or something. I'm just about out of money."
"Sure.
Sounds fair to me. Then it'll be like a trade, not an imposition."
I
looked over at Sybil. She was smiling at me and if she could have
wiggled her ears I bet she would have been doing that too.
"I
don't have much left to trade."
"Marianne's
boyfriend? I bet you're special."
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