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--------------------------------------------------------
Please do not repost this story without author's 
permission. Copyright 2007. Correspondence welcomed at 
elguaton7@hotmail.com.
--------------------------------------------------------

The Good Resident Assistant #2 - The Drunk Punk
by El Guaton (elguaton7@hotmail.com)

***

The Good RA returns, and this time finds a special 
treat when he breaks up a party. (MF-teens, nc, 
college)

***

I was just thinking about getting in bed and giving 
myself a goodnight wank when my phone rang. I picked it 
up, grumbling a "Hello?" 

Someone a floor up was complaining about too much noise 
interfering with his sleep. Dealing with noise 
complaints was technically in my job description, 
though I always hated it. Why couldn't people tell 
other people to shut up on their own, or just live and 
let live? 

"Yeah," I sighed, "I'll be right up." The phone clicked 
into the receiver. 

When I got up there, I saw a pretty typical scene. 
Someone had taped sheets over the fluorescents, making 
the lounge dark. There was a dj, a keg, and a bunch of 
people crammed in, some bumping and grinding, some 
chatting on the side lines, hoping to get laid. I knew 
how to handle this. With any luck, I could be back in 
my room in two minutes and pounding my meat in three. 

I made my way over to the dj. "Hey!" I shouted. He 
ignored me, staring down at his equipment and moving 
his head along to the beat. "Hey!" I shouted again, 
tapping him on his shoulder. He looked up irritated, 
but his mood changed as soon as he saw me. Suddenly a 
big, mollifying grin broke on his face. 

"Hey, my man, what is uppppp?" he said, trying to 
placate me. I'd seen this before. 

"Off!" I shouted, pantomiming the cutting off gesture, 
dragging my thumb across my throat. His smile lingered 
for a beat, hoping he could still charm me into letting 
the party go on, then he reluctantly hit the kill 
switch. As the music drained away, the dancers stopped, 
turning to see what had happened. A few random voices 
said "hey" and "what's going on" and the like. A few 
guys looked like they were willing to box. 

"I am the RA of this building!" I boomed 
authoritatively. "This party is shut down. Please leave 
quickly and quietly." There were some groans and "not 
cools" and "fuck yous," but for the most part the crowd 
was docile, accustomed to this happening. They began to 
file toward the exits. The dj shrugged, said, "No hard 
feelings, man," and started to pack up too. I started 
tearing down the sheets blocking the lights, and 
brainstorming who I was going to fine for the policy 
violations. 

Almost instantly, the room was empty. Now fully lit, I 
could see that the room was trashed -- that fine was 
going to be extra big. I sighed and decided to deal 
with it in the morning. I turned to head back to my 
room, and was startled to see that I wasn't quite as 
alone as I thought. Sprawled on the couch was a girl, 
and from the awkward angle of her body, her slow 
breathing, and her closed eyes, it was pretty clear 
that she was passed out. "Shit," I muttered. I couldn't 
just leave a drunk girl behind -- if she had alcohol 
poisoning and I ignored her, that would be dereliction 
of the duty in the extreme. My evening wank was getting 
farther and farther away. 

I walked over to her. "Hey," I said, a little loudly. 
No response. I reached down to give her a little shake. 
"Can you wake up?" I said, also loudly, and in that 
slow, slightly condescending tone of voice the well 
always use with the drunk or otherwise nonresponsive. 

Without moving, her voice slurred out. "I can't believe 
you shhhut down this party, I was shho close to getting 
la-" hiccup - "-id." 

I chuckled to myself. She still hadn't opened her eyes. 
The only thing I thought she was close to was a 
hangover. "I'm sorry, honey. Come on, get up, let's 
take you home." I half-squatted and scooped her into a 
sitting up position. 

"I'm not going-" hiccup - "-anywhere until I get some 
cock!" her eyes finally opened and blazed at me. She 
leered at me in a way I'm sure she thought was sexy, 
but was really just drunk. Her hair was blonde, and 
going every which way, though it favored the right. 
With all the hair spray in it, though, I suspected it 
had looked like that before she slept on it, one of 
those controlled-wild hairdos favored by punks and 
goths. 

Her right eyebrow was pierced, and currently had a 
safety pin through it. One earring, a big black hoop, 
dangled from her right ear. She was wearing a necklace 
-- some Wiccan symbol on the end of it, no doubt -- and 
a t-shirt with a low neck, showing off her bust and the 
face of some rocker, and some midriff on top of a short 
plaid skirt. Fish net stockings would really have 
completed the image, I thought, but she was beyond 
caring for fashion advice, and she wasn't wearing them. 
And who knew where her shoes had gone. 

Suddenly, she reached down and lifted up her skirt, 
spreading her legs at the same time. She was not 
wearing panties. And it was unclear whether she was a 
natural blonde or not. 

"You wan' some of this?" she asked, one hand moving 
toward her vagina. "Or maybe some of these?" The other 
quickly pulled down the side of her shirt, letting one 
tit pop out. My eyes waggled -- this was a better view 
than I'd expected. In fact, if you could get past her 
streaked make-up, messed-up hair, and obvious 
drunkenness, she was pretty hot. 

Her legs were thin, but I kinda liked the stick thing, 
and a shaved pussy is a sweet reward on any woman. She 
had a good waist, too, but it was that tit I kept 
coming back to. Somewhere between a B and a C, one of 
those tear-drop shapes that seem to droop down a little 
bit even on young women, but with a well-pronounced 
nipple. I wanted to bite it. 

The moment went longer than it should have been, and 
her face smoldered as she realized I was enjoying what 
I saw. Time to reassert control. I shook my head 
quickly -- I should not be appraising the goods on 
drunk, naked residents -- and batted her hands lightly. 
Her skirt flopped back down to cover her pussy, and 
without her hand, her shirt snapped back into place to 
cover most of her tit. She fell back against the couch. 

"What!" Her voice was almost gravelly. Probably a 
smoker, like most punks and goths. "Don'cha think I'm 
hot?" She burst into tears. I rolled my eyes, or wanted 
to. Her mascara, a little on the heavy side, ran a 
little worse. Who doesn't love the hot girl who cries 
when she's drunk? 

"No, it's not that, honey, you're very hot. It's just 
you're drunk right now and I should take you home." 

There were still tear-tracks on her face, and her eyes 
brimmed, but just like that the sobbing stopped. "You 
could take me," she half-whispered, meeker this time. 

I chose to pretend I didn't understand what she was 
really saying. "Good! Then come here." I reached around 
her again, putting one of her arms over my shoulders, 
and putting one of my arms around her waist to pick her 
up. With me providing balance, she was able to take 
most of her own weight and help me move. That was a 
small consolation at least. "Come on," I said. "Where 
do you live?" 

Her head, which had been hanging loosely from her neck, 
rolled up to look at me. She smiled at me saucily. 
"Where do _you_ live?" she returned. The situation was 
getting better -- a drunk girl who cried and thought 
she was a comedian. She swooned toward me, and I 
narrowly caught her by catching her with my other arm. 
I think she was going to thank me for catching her, 
when suddenly, there was vomit everywhere. It was on 
me, my shirt, my jeans, everywhere. 

"Oh, not cool, not cool, fuck, fuck" -- a machine gun 
fire of profanities erupted out of me, and in my horror 
my hands went to my ruined clothes, letting her fall to 
the ground. Her body made a sack-of-potatoes sound, but 
she barely murmured. 

"Damnit!" I shouted. I hate the smell of vomit, I hate 
its texture, I hate everything about it -- and now I 
was covered in it. I bent down and quickly rolled the 
girl off her stomach and on to her side so that she 
wouldn't aspirate. "Hey!" I shouted again, less 
friendly than before. "Drunk girl, wake up!" 

Her eyes stayed closed, and she muttered something 
vaguely contrary, but the only word I caught was 
"bitch." Standing back up, I put my hands on my hips 
and considered the situation. The girl was drunk, 
probably too drunk to be left alone. I was covered in 
vomit and needed to get out of my clothes and away from 
the smell if I had any hope of not going crazy. What 
needed to happen was clear. I clapped my hands together 
softly, like this was a business meeting. "Okay, drunk 
girl, we're making a pit-stop in my room before I take 
you home." I kneeled down, put her over my shoulders in 
a fireman's carry, and left. She didn't complain. 

Back in my room, I threw her on my bed. I peeled off my 
shirt and jeans, and for safety's sake, to make sure 
none of the smell was left on me, I decided to take off 
my boxers, too. I picked them up, marched back into the 
hall, and threw them into the bathroom. Removed from 
the smell, I instantly felt better. Maybe tomorrow I'd 
even make her give me some quarters for the necessary 
laundry my clothes were going to need. 

I went back in to the room. "Time to take care of you 
now, sweetheart," thinking I would clean her up a bit 
and get her home. She didn't respond at all, apparently 
now fully passed out. I checked her pulse. It was 
steady and strong. Same with her breathing. I 
considered her coloring -- fine, too. Behind the make-
up and the piercing and the bad haircut, she was even 
pretty. She had an elfish nose, one that came to a fine 
point, but it fit nicely on her high cheekbones. Her 
forehead was maybe a little too big, but her eyes were 
well spaced, and her skin was smooth. 

She had rolled onto her back, so I put one hand on her 
shoulder and one on her leg to reposition her on her 
side, in case she had more throwing up to do. Her skirt 
pulled up from the motion, her camel toe briefly 
winking at me. My hands lingered on her, noticing the 
heat from her skin. My eyes fixated on the cleft of her 
legs, obscured by the little piece of her skirt, now 
reminded that underneath was a bare pussy. My hand was 
inches from it. My hand was on bare skin that was 
inches from it. 

My gaze suddenly broke, and I glanced down to notice 
that my cock had grown hard and was pointing straight 
out, as if reaching toward what it wanted. I remembered 
that I hadn't put any clothes back on after stripping 
out of the ruined ones. And now I was standing, naked, 
with a hot girl in my bed, who had very little between 
me and her pussy. 

I paused to consider the situation. I was an RA. If I 
touched her, that would be date rape. It would be wrong 
to touch her while she could not say no. 

On the other hand, it was her fault that I was naked. 
It was also her fault that she was in my room. Hell, it 
was her fault for being this drunk in the first place. 
And she had said that she wanted cock, before she 
passed out anyway. 

And god, I was so horny, and this dumb bitch and those 
other partiers had kept me up for an extra hour, and 
delayed me from spanking my meat. In some ways, this 
could be a small payment, an evening of the scales. 

And who would know? And when would I have an 
opportunity like this again? 

Still, I knew it was wrong. Maybe I would just whack 
off before I took her home. That would certainly be 
harmless. Maybe even commendable -- it would mean I 
watched her a little longer, made sure she didn't have 
alcohol poisoning. 

Trembling, I moved my hand from her thigh and lifted 
the edge of her skirt, folding it back. Her camel toe 
was now fully in view. My other hand surrounded my 
cock. My breath caught in my chest. My hand stroked, 
firmly and quickly, no time wasted with teasing myself.  

The lips of her vagina were large and hung open. Her 
clit protruded -- no trouble finding it, if I wanted to 
-- and her inner labia also hung out, her vagina 
looking a little like it had a tongue. My fingers 
trailed away from her skirt and back on to her thigh. I 
could smell her musk, acrid and earthy. There was a 
slight sheen on her pussy. My fingers began to trail 
upward. It was just so beautiful, I had to touch it. I 
lightly pushed my index finger between her lips and 
trailed it upward, collecting some of her moisture. 

I brought my finger to my noise and inhaled. The 
tanginess was almost overpowering; my pace on my cock 
quickened. I gave my finger one lick, and then jammed 
it into my mouth, sucking it clean. My brain swam with 
the combined smell/taste of her sex, as if the very 
molecules of her being were calling her horniness out 
to me.

I leaned in closer, my head hovering by her knees. I 
used one hand to lift up her leg, making my view 
easier. My eyes fixated on her pussy. It was swollen, 
engorged -- ready for a cock. Maybe it had already had 
one tonight. It almost winked at me, pulsating 
methodically with her heartbeat. I inhaled slowly. Her 
musk was even stronger this close to her. I staggered 
under it, both of my hands coming up to catch myself on 
the bed, in the process rolling her off of her side and 
onto her back, and putting me on the bed with her. 

I looked up, my reverie momentarily broken. Her face 
had shown no change. Maybe I could push it a little 
farther. 

I leaned farther in, focusing on her pussy again. Her 
legs were now spread, my knees and body on the bed, my 
face between her legs. I came within inches of her, so 
that her pussy, the tops of her thighs, and some plaid 
from her skirt took up my entire field of vision. My 
hands came up to her thighs to balance me. Each hand 
took up an entire thigh, my fingers began to stretch 
around a leg. The smell of her sex was everywhere now; 
I didn't even have to breathe to be aware of it. 

My tongue darted out, one quick flick up her slit. A 
small moan escaped my lips. My tongue lashed out again 
and again, I had to have more. Soon I wasn't even 
licking as much as I was sucking directly on her pussy, 
consuming as much of her nectar as I possibly could. 

A small moan escaped her. I froze, panicked. I 
hesitantly lifted up my face, shining with the glaze of 
her pussy. She hadn't moved, though she was flushed, 
and her breathing had increased. "Are you awake?" I 
croaked out. No response. I waited, the moment hanging. 

A small sigh escaped me. Whatever I'd heard, she must 
have responding through her stupor. She was definitely 
still passed out. 

Removed from my pussy-licking trance, I slammed back 
into myself. My cock was so hard I felt like my entire 
body was going to erupt out of it. There was a puddle 
on the foot of my bed just from my precum, and my cock 
was slimy with it. I'd been so focused on the 
perfection of her pussy that I'd momentarily even 
forgotten about my need to get off. 

My hand was moving to wrap around my penis and finish 
me off when something better occurred to me. I'd 
already gone far enough in touching and tasting her 
that I was finished if she remembered or found out. Why 
not go all the way? And her pussy was so beautiful and 
so tasty and so smooth and so soft that I couldn't 
imagine what it would feel like wrapped around my cock. 
I had to know. 

I crouched between her legs. "I'm going to fuck you," I 
whispered. "Your pussy is just too beautiful. But I'll 
try to make sure you like it, too." I moved forward on 
my knees, until my cock was resting on her pubis. My 
hands cupped her ass, and lifted her up a bit, resting 
her thighs on my knees and putting her pussy right in 
line with my cock. With my hand, I placed the head of 
my cock right at the entrance to her tunnel. 

"I can feel your warmth," I whispered. My cock head 
just barely nestled between her lips. Slowly, I rolled 
my hips, pushing a little more in, with long, circular 
motions. Her vagina was tight, but welcoming. Not the 
unpleasantness of a virgin or the lack of sensation of 
a whore. Just the right amount of gripping, delicious 
give, and slurping friction. 

My cock came to a rest, fully implanted. It was strange 
to hear no noise from her, to not feel her legs around 
me or her hands on my back, or at least see her hands 
on her tits or her expression of joy. It was almost 
unnerving that she was lying there lifeless, her arms 
at her side, her legs listless. Then I stopped and 
really felt the warm, surrounded feeling on my cock, 
almost like a gentle tug. And I didn't care anymore. 

I stretched out, leaning my torso forward and putting 
my legs behind me, so that we were now in a more normal 
missionary position. My face was even with hers, my 
arms on either side of her shoulders for support. I 
kissed her on her chin, her left cheek, and her lips. 
No response. But she was warm. So warm. 

I pulled out slightly, then eased back in. My first 
thrust. A second. A third. Slow and delicious. 

I shifted my weight to my left arm, and let my right 
hand move to her side. My fingers traced across her 
tight stomach, under her shirt, and onto her left tit. 
That was better. I kneaded the flesh in my hands. It 
was a handful, and with her on her back, it had a 
pleasant droop. I squeezed it. 

I picked up the pace a little bit. Another thrust. This 
time, taking my cock almost completely out before 
bringing it home. Then pulling out only halfway. 
Thrust. Half-thrust. Thrust. Half-thrust, in an 
alternating pattern. 

I played with her nipple. Even passed out, it was rock 
hard. I pinched it. Pulled on it. 

I rolled my thighs, moving my cock in a semicircular 
motion. First one way, then the other. My blood was 
pounding in my ears. I couldn't tease her or focus on 
technique. I had to FUCK her. I started thrusting 
again, short, even hits. 

I looked at the clock. I'd been in her less than five 
minutes and I could already feel cum welling up in my 
balls. I pulled her shirt up, revealing both tits. I 
threw my mouth on the right one, biting the nipple, 
licking, tasting, slobbering. My face buried in the 
valley between her mounds of flesh. 

My thrusts picked up speed. I was slamming into her, 
zero technique now, her pussy squelching on each 
retreat, as if begging me to give it to her, give it to 
her, GIVE IT TO HER. Her face was still calm, though 
every time I banged into her, her head rocked a little, 
as if she were nodding, "Yes, Yes, Yes," over and over. 
Her mouth hung open, her straight teeth glinting. Her 
tits jostled. 

I put a hand on each tit, as if grabbing a life 
preserve. I threw my head back and howled. This was it. 
I pulled almost-out one last time, then rushed back in, 
feeling each fold and texture of her pussy across the 
head of my cock. I stopped, letting her envelope me. A 
great train rush of semen burst through me, 
skyrocketing into her pussy. I came for minutes. For 
hours. For centuries. I didn't even feel each spasm, 
but just one continuous feeling of bliss, as if my cock 
were hooked directly to her vagina and that vagina 
wanted my cum. I was a faucet and she took everything. 

I slumped next to her, panting. Still no response, 
though now her pussy was a little sloppy, her tits were 
hanging out, and her color was downright flushed. "You 
were great," I told her. Some of my cum lazily trailed 
out of her pussy and on to my sheets. "I hope you're on 
the pill, though."

END

Emails welcomed at elguaton7@hotmail.com.  
 
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 49