Hot Tub Trio Ch. 05

"Did you cheat on her then?"

Instead of nudging her, this time Chad hissed, "Amy, that's none of your business. Jesus."

"Let her be. It's a reasonable question." Vince was quiet for a moment. Amy's head still rested on his shoulder.

"Once. Ann might not have counted it as cheating. I never told her about it. It was before we officially started dating, but it was after we had slept together, so I count it as cheating. It was only once and it was the only time I did anything with a guy before we split up."

The silence was longer this time and Amy assumed the conversation was over. She stifled a yawn against Vince's chest. She wondered if Chad was jealous she was still lying on Vince's chest. She mentally switched roles. Would she be jealous if Chad fell asleep lying on another woman's chest? The answer she came up with was probably.

This shit was way too complicated. She gave Vince a quick peck on the cheek and rolled toward Chad, who was quick to open his arms to her. She wiggled her butt back to rest on Vince's now very wet thigh. She intended it as a goodwill gesture, a "don't be mad at me for prying" gesture.

Vince apparently accepted the gesture. After she was settled he began to speak softly, staring at the ceiling. Amy could no longer see his face but it sounded to her like he was talking more to himself than to her or Chad.

Part Two

In a strange way it was the fact we had finally slept together that led to me fool around with another guy for the first time. Don't get me wrong; I'm not blaming Ann at all. She had nothing to do with it, not directly anyway. I think getting laid by any girl would have had the same effect on me.

It was as if a door had been thrown open. A door that I had kept closed and locked until then. I admitted to myself that I hadn't been a virgin up to that point because the stars had failed to align properly. I had been a virgin because I was afraid to take the step. I suppose part of me still retained a bit of my Southern Baptist upbringing, which can be summed up as: Sex is evil. Full stop. End of story. But the biggest reason was simply fear of looking silly, of being laughed at. Of course, admitting I was interested in sex with another guy was another closed door. But opening one affected the other. You know how sometimes you open a door or window and the change in pressure in the house causes another to slam open, or closet. It was like that. Maybe that was another part of why I had been afraid to have sex with a girl. Part of me hoped doing so would magically banish what I consider bizarre if not sick ideas about guys. Part of me worried that having discovered what sex with a girl was like would only deepen my curiosity about guys.

This might make more sense if you knew Ann had been a close friend for more than a year before we ended up sleeping together. I had begun to hope we could be more than friends but true to form for the old Vince I did not one single thing to bring that about. One afternoon Ann ended up in my room intending to get me in the sack or walk away. She was funny and determined and beautiful and gave me what is still the best afternoon, evening and night of my life.

Me, being me, as soon as she left the next day I worked myself up into a dither trying to parse every syllable, every gesture. Did this mean we were dating? That we were a couple? Ann did not strike me as a one-night stand sort of girl. We were both twenty-two by the way. I wanted to be her boyfriend but what if I was misreading the situation? Should I call her? She had just left.

I wound myself so tight I had to get out of my little apartment. I pulled on the jeans and tee shirt that were still lying by the couch where we had dropped them the night before, shoved my feet into some flip-flops and bolted out the door. I didn't stop to comb my hair, brush my teeth or anything. Keep in mind Ann and I had spent the evening and a good part of the night going most of the things we have just been doing. I never gave a thought to what I looked or smelled like.

My apartment was a studio above an obnoxious old bitch's garage. She was waiting for me at the foot the stairs. She started harping on how she wouldn't have her place being turned into a sex den that was her phrase. I can still see her scrunched up face and the way she hacked "sex den" out like a cat with a hairball caught in its throat. If I hadn't been so worked up I would have realized then how much I had changed in less than twenty-four hours.

The old me would have been terrified of getting into trouble. That's how pathetic the twenty-two year old me was. I would have literally worried she'd call my mom or something. The Vince from the day before would have fabricated some story about lost keys, broken down car, abusive boyfriend, anything to avoid being accused of having sex with a girl in his own apartment.

The new Vince stopped long enough to tell her he kept the place spotless, fix whatever needed to be fixed around not only the apartment but her house, his rent was paid to the end of the month at which time he was moving to KC anyway and really it was none of her business who he had over as a guest. She stood there all goggle-eyed and hyperventilating, hand fluttering at her throat as I turned and walked away from her.

It was a Thursday, late in the summer. The last summer session was over and it was a few weeks before the fall semester would begin, so the campus was pretty quiet. I don't think I left the apartment with any intention of ending up at Fraser Hall but I did. Fraser Hall was where the sociology and psychology courses were held. It had a basement bathroom that in my sophomore year I discovered was a meeting place for guys wanting a give or get a blowjob or sometimes even a quick fuck.

I had never done anything with another guy. I was as much a virgin in that regard as I was with a girl. I had never even jerk off in front of another guy. But I would go there every few months or so and watch the action. That may sound even more pervy than going there to do something. I don't know. Some days there would be four, five, even six guys in there jerking off, or sucking each other.

I climbed the steps expecting the doors to be locked, since no classes were in session but they were open. I guess some of the professors were still keeping office hours or maybe there were graduate seminars still running. It doesn't matter. All that mattered was that the door was open. I made my way downstairs to the bathroom. I didn't hear any scurrying when I opened the outer door and as anticipated when I opened the inner door the place was deserted. I started to walk out. Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had, probably basically the same would be my guess. Anyway, I started to walk out but caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I actually jumped.

My hair was long back then and it was standing up all over my freaking head. I walked to the sink and ran water over my hand and tried to slick my hair down. It sort of worked but wetting my hand and hair re-awoke the smell of sex that clung to me. I brought my hands to my face and they reeked of pussy. I had gone down on Ann a couple of times that night. In fact, I went down on her before we made love. She told me later she thought that was really strange.

The smell was so intense it brought memories of the last few hours pouring back into my mind. I started to get really turned on. I hadn't bothered with underwear. I had just pulled on my jeans. My cock was already straining. I knew from experience it would probably stay that way until I jerked off, especially walking back across campus, feeling my jeans squeeze my dick, wondering if people were noticing I had a hard-on.

No problem. The place was empty. I stepped up to the closest urinal and thumbed open my jeans. Just thinking about Ann, and her pussy and jerking off in a public place albeit an empty public place, had me fully hard. I wet my hand with spit, savoring the smell on my hands, and started to stroke my dick. The smell of sex, the smell of pussy, really blossomed when I did that. Between the residua of the night before, my spit and the beginning flow of my precum my cock was nearly as slick as if I was still making love to Ann.

I could feel myself starting to build when I heard the sound of the outer door opening. I'd seen the drill often enough. I stop stroking and stood at the urinal pointing my erection down as if I was simply taking a piss. I pushed my hips forward to better hide my erection. I resisted the urge to look up when the inner door open and closed. Whoever entered was wearing dress shoes. I could tell by the click they made on the tile.

I resolutely stared straight ahead, memorizing every crack and chip in the tile and grout. There was no new graffiti. "I love cock" "tap foot for BJ" "glory hole in last stall" etc. I continued to stand motionless. Out of the corner of my eye I could tell the guy was wearing a suit. He wasn't moving either. There was no sound of piss hitting porcelain. That didn't necessarily mean anything; maybe he had a shy bladder. I didn't care. I just wanted him to leave so I could finish jerking off. I wasn't interested in watching anything today.

I heard his shoes and caught movement in my peripheral vision. When I turned he was facing me, dick hanging out, not completely hard yet. Seeing my head turn he started to stroke his dick. I remember he used a backhanded motion. His thumb and finger wrapped around his dick at the base so that his fist faced outward.

As he stroked he grew harder. To me he looked old but I'm sure he was younger than I am now, probably in his mid-30s. I don't think he was a professor. I knew by then that even some professors were dumb as a box of rocks but they would have to have been beyond stupid to risk being seen by a student jerking off in a university toilet. Plus, he had a suit and tie and this was a sociology building. I don't think sociology professors of that era even knew what a tie was beyond a symbol of a defacto-militaristic anachronism of male domination, oh and inherently imperialistic. I'm babbling. Sorry. He wasn't a professor. I don't know who he was or how he knew about the place. The most likely theory I came up with was that he was a former student.

It was probably my imagination but I swear I could start to smell him. Men smell different than women. I don't mean they stink more or stink less, just different. I honestly believe if you gave me random swaths of cloth, some rub over a woman's pussy and others over a man's cock I could tell them apart by smell.

His cock was huge. I've never worried about my dick, the one thing I had some security about. I'm just enough bigger than average to be able to say "I'm bigger than average". This guy had the biggest cock I've ever seen outside a porn film.

Whatever the reason, my horniness had a spectacular re-birth. This wasn't totally unfamiliar territory for me. Like I said I had watched a lot of guy's jerk off. I didn't usually join them and I had never jerked off to completion in front of anyone. I don't recall thinking about it much. I simple step away from the urinal and started stroking my dick for him.

We both watched each other, not looking at each other's faces but at the motion of our hands sliding over our cocks. When we did look at each other it was at the exact same time. I remember thinking that was freaky. He nodded with his head, urging me closer. The old me would have zipped up and fled at that point, or at the most simply not moved.

The new me stepped closer. He nodded again and I complied. If either of us had arched our back our cocks would have touched. We were that close, way closer than I had ever allowed anyone.

Neither of had spoken. I kept my eyes on his cock. His voice startled me. I flinched and I could hear amusement enter his voice.

"Man you smell like wet cunt." I didn't respond. "You where ass deep in twat last night, weren't you my friend. She know you like cock too." I had nothing to say to that so I remained silent. He let it go for a time. There was no sound except the wet sound of our hands sliding over our cocks.

He let go of his erection. All he had done was unzip. His pants were still buttoned, belt still buckled. I had to use one hand to hold my pants up.

"Just let them drop. Let me see more of you." I hesitated but then let go. My jeans slide down until they caught on my knees.

"Nice. Nice dick buddy. Really nice. Want me to jerk you?" He reached but I twisted away. He laughed. "Okay, don't sweat it."

I remember thinking I should leave but I didn't. I seemed to be further from cumming than ever but I continued to pull at my dick. I wanted to finish, wanted to leave. I used my now free left hand, the one that had been holding my pants up, to grab around the base of my cock and ball sack. I'd found that squeezing there hurt a little but felt good as well. If I pushed my hand forward a little my right hand would bang against my balls. That hurt a little too but that also felt good. Sometimes doing that would get me off quicker.

"Yeah buddy, beat that meat. That's fucking hot." His own hand began to move faster. I still had not said a word.

"Fuck man, show me your ass. I bet your ass is as hot as your cock." I didn't move. "Come on man. I know you want to."

He was right. Part of me did. Part of me was digging the way he was looking at me.

I turned, shuffling because my pants were around my knees. As I turned they slide the rest of the way to the floor.

"Beautiful man." He panted. "It'd be safer to take 'em off. Someone comes in you'll never get 'em up and back to a urinal. Take 'em off and put them in the first stall. Anyone comes you can run for the stall."

I don't remember hesitating. I stepped out of my pants, walked over and draped them over the door of the stall. As I turned I pulled the bottom of my shirt up and behind my head. I was basically naked except for my flip-flops.

He didn't move to meet me. I went to him. In retrospect that was my mistake, one of them anyway. I went to him. He knew then I didn't want to stop.

He never touched his clothes, except to tuck his tie into his breast pocket. He reached out and began to rub my nipples. I knew women liked that but it had never occurred to me that a guy's nipples might be just as sensitive. He rubbed and then began to pinch and pull. It felt great. He leaned over and took my left nipple in his mouth. He caressed it with his tongue. Then he began to bite. That felt good too, at first. He bit harder and then it hurt more than it felt good. I pulled back but he at first he didn't let go. I'd like to think if he did it a second longer I'd have pushed him away, got my pants and walked out. Maybe I would have. I don't know. He let go anyway.

"Turn around."

For the first I spoke. "You aren't fucking me." This was '89 remember. AIDS raged and the only drug available was AZT and some felt it killed as many as it helped. There was no way I was going to let some guy fuck me without a condom. Besides, like I said he was fucking huge. There was no way I could imagine, still can't, getting that thing inside me. The thing is, and the thing I ignored at the time, was I wanted to be fucked. I wanted to feel him inside me, the way I had been inside Ann. I knew what it was like to fuck but what would it feel like to be fucked. What would it be like to let someone inside my body?

"Wasn't planning to." The Vince that day was a lot bolder than the Vince of the day before but still a fucking pussy as far as this Vince is concerned. The tone he used was utterly dismissive, as if I was nuts for even imaging someone like him would want someone like me, a raggedy assed college student in flip-flops and scruffy jeans.

"I just want to play with your ass. I'm not going to try to fuck you."

I turned around and his free hand started to rub and squeeze my ass cheeks. I let him trail his fingers up my crack. I guess he was afraid that given the way I reeked of pussy my ass might not be too clean because he didn't go very deep. Which was fine. Having my nipples played with was great. Even the biting hadn't been bad until the end and perhaps he had just gotten a little over excited. But there was something about the touch of his fingers that creeped me out. They were dry and cool, almost cold.

I moved away from his hand.

He stepped back and leaned against the wall. I thought he was ready to finish. Well, so was I.

He stopped stroking and waved his cock at me.

"Suck my dick."

His was voice was flat. It was a command not a request. My mind started to form the words "fuck you asshole". My mouth started to open but the words died. Another part of my mind told me, "go ahead, you've dreamed about, you've jerked off thinking about it, it's not like fucking it's safe, go ahead."

I stood still. I stopped jerking my dick. I started to turn, intending to grab my pants get dressed and leave.

"Don't be a fucking pussy. I can see you want to. You ever sucked dick? You'll love it. I'll do you after. Come on before someone comes."

I didn't give myself time to think. I knelt on the tile and my knees screamed. They were raw and scratched from the night before. They were worse than rug burned, they were old uneven wooden floor mangled. I got off my knees and squatted over my heels. I was still getting my balance, starting to wonder if I wanted to do this, or at least if I wanted to do this, here and with this guy.

His hand went to the back of my head and pulled me forward. I fell forward, down onto my knees. It hurt like a motherfucker. I opened my mouth whether to holler in pain or cuss him I don't know. I never got a chance to say anything. He was already shoving his cock in my mouth. It would barely fit. He was fucking big, not only long, thick as well. It felt like my jaw would dislocate.

I was pissed but at the same time fascinated. I remember thinking, "so this is what a cock feels like in your mouth, soft but hard, silk wrapped around steel, not at all like it feels in your hand."

I usually jerked off by licking my hand to make it wetter so I knew what precum tasted like. I had even eaten my cum on occasion but found that didn't do much for me. It struck me as being almost comically anti-climactic, literally. Anyway, his taste didn't surprise me.

I was able to rock back off my knees and start to get into it. I just imagined the things I liked doing with my hands to my own dick and did the same to his, plus what I was doing with my mouth. I couldn't take him all the way in. I would start to gag but I took as much as I could. I started playing with the head of his dick with my tongue, popping it in and out of my lips then thrusting as much of it as I could into my mouth.

I decided he might be an asshole but I had nothing against his dick. I must have been doing something right because his fingers started griping my hair. I remember I was actually congratulating myself for giving such a badass blowjob.

His other hand twisted in my hair. He started thrusting with his hips, not waiting for me. I had no control over the action any more. I was giving a blowjob anymore. He was simply fucking my mouth.

He was thrusting much deeper than I had tried to go and I started to retch. There was nothing in my stomach but I could feel hot acid fill my mouth. "Good," I thought, "that will make him let go."

It didn't. It excited him more. I tried to stand up but he had the leverage, plus two fistfuls of my hair and I couldn't get my feet under me. The damn flip-flops kept slipping and twisting. I haven't worn them since. Before I managed to even attempt to get away he started cumming. He was pushing so hard I was still retching and most of his load ended up on the floor.