Honing The Talent
B Pascal
Chapter 24
There was almost no traffic as I drove home. It was almost three, I realized. My parents were probably already home. I wondered if my mother would stay up to grill me, as she had in high school.
The house was dark when I pulled in the driveway, and she was nowhere to be seen. Either she had had too much to drink and gone to bed to sleep it off, or she had determined that I was old enough to decide when to come home. I guess I’d find out tomorrow.
I don’t recall getting to my room or getting undressed, as my mind was replaying the evening and I was attempting to catalog some of the highlights with as much detail as I could remember. I fell asleep in the middle of the reruns.
It was late, no surprise, when I awoke, and I showered and found clean clothes. My mother was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a cup of coffee, about to reprimand me, I suspected, for breathing too loudly.
I poured coffee and decided it would be better to let her initiate conversation. Or not initiate it.
Over a bowl of cereal, she finally said, “Have a nice time?” She didn’t look like she meant it, but it was the polite thing to say. I told her a little about Carlie’s party. She looked a bit green when I told her what had been on offer for food.
“Listen,” she said, “I think everyone’s going to be on their own for food today. I don’t think I’m up to it. I’m going to go lie down and rethink my relationship with alcohol.”
I suppressed a smile as she stumbled upstairs. I had another few weeks before I had to head back to school, and nothing on my agenda. I read a little of the book Karen had given me, which made me think about footwork and center of gravity, and I was a little surprised to realize how much all the martial arts had in common in this respect.
I’ll skip some time here, as it doesn’t advance the story. Karen called me just before she left for the airport, just to say a quick goodbye, then flew back to the west coast. I spent a couple of mindless weeks at home. This is hard to believe, but our home PC had no modem, so I couldn’t send or receive emails. My parents were a little behind the times. Just having a PC in the house made them appear more modern, but the truth is they didn’t know how to use one. We just had it for writing school papers.
My friends, of course, had already headed back to their schools where their own exams were looming, so I had no one to pal around with. I went to a lot of movies, mostly forgettable, and spent some time in the main branch of our local library seeing what was available on psi research.
My mother started to fall back into her friendly inquisition mode, trying to find out what I was thinking about my future, about Karen, and so on. I had thought that having Mindy around would satisfy her need to relive her life vicariously, but apparently not. So in order to avoid it I made plans to head back to school a little early, before classes started.
A few days later my father drove me to the train and I headed back to ——— for the second semester. The trip was uneventful, and the dorm was still half empty when I got in. Even Larry wasn’t there yet.
Classes didn’t start for another few days, but I thought I might need a head start on my coursework. We’d already been given reading lists. After putting my things away, I opened one of the books and started browsing. The room was a bit stuffy, so I left the door partially open to get some air exchange moving.
I still didn’t know how I’d done in my exams; tests weren’t really my strong point. Who knows, there might be a letter my my campus mailbox suggesting that, given my exam results, I take a year off to rethink my career aspirations.
Oops, there’s my self-flagellation making its appearance. I was pretty sure I’d passed everything, but the old-fashioned idea of the ’gentleman’s C’ was long out of date.
The cafeteria was still closed, so food for the next couple of days would require a little more foresight and planning. I was starting to get a little hungry, and dreading getting bundled up to go in search of a sandwich.
“Yo, Carter, you’re back early.”
I looked up, and Con Doherty had his head poking through the open door. He’d been in a couple of my classes. Not buddies, but we’re friendly since he was in the same dorm.
“Yeah, I thought I might get a head start on the reading for this term.”
“You are such a tool, Carter. Go with the flow.”
“Yeah, that might work for you smart people, but some of us have to work at it. So why are you back, then?”
“Coach called for some extra practices, ’cause we sucked so bad in the last game before break.
First one’s tomorrow.” Doherty played basketball.
“Hah, your sins come back to haunt you.”
“Whatever. Is the mess hall open, you know?”
“No, not till Monday, I think. I was just considering going out to find something to eat nearby.”
“It’s snowing out, are you nuts?”
“It’s either go out or survive on potato chips from the vending machine.”
“You know there are places that deliver food, right? Pizza, Chinese.”
“Yeah, but they’re usually too much for one person.”
“How ’bout we split something? It’ll save me from going out, too.”
So we agreed to split a large pizza and got a bottle of soda to go with it. Between the two of us we had enough for the food and a tip. I called the order in.
While we waited, he sat down and we talked about the classes we’d had. He admitted to some nervousness about exam results. His father had gone here, so that legacy, some family money and a real talent for basketball had gotten him an offer. He admitted that his school grades were pretty average.
So maybe there were a few more like me, pretty good students but not geniuses. Perhaps there was hope for me after all.
He looked around the room, comparing it to his own, I think, seeing what interests were reflected in the things that were visible.
“Holy shit, who’s that?”
He was looking at Karen’s picture on the shelf over my desk.
“My girlfriend back home. Actually, she’s in school in California now, so we don’t get to see each other very often. I just said goodbye to her again a couple of weeks ago.”
“She’s freaking gorgeous. You lucky bastard.”
“Damn right I am.”
“If I had a girl who looked like that I’d quit school and follow her wherever she went.”
I was saved from answering by the sound of the wall phone ringing in the hall. I got up to answer it, and the desk in the lobby told me my food had arrived. I took Con’s money and went down to collect the order. This was going to leave me a little short. I’d have to find an ATM and take out some more money tomorrow.
The pizza solved our immediate problem, and between the two of us we finished it off quickly.
“Better,” he said, patting his stomach. “Much better. I’ve got a joint back in my room. You want to partake?”
I told him I wasn’t in the mood, but don’t let me stop him, so he went off to find it. When he came back he was followed by one of his roommates, Jimmy, whose last name I’d forgotten.
The two of them passed it back and forth, the three of us carrying on a rambling conversation mostly fueled by the joint. Someone produced a deck of cards and we started a poker game for points rather than money, since Con and I were pretty much out of cash.
We did that for an hour or so until the two of them crashed and went off to find sleep or another joint, they weren’t quite sure.
I lay back on the bed, my zeal for reading long gone. Maybe I should just go to bed and start fresh tomorrow. I was interrupted by the door banging open and Larry staggering in, laden down by bags and packages.
“I didn’t expect you back so early,” I said. “And where’s Ames? Didn’t he drive you and carry your bags?”
“Normally, he would, but I decided to do it myself, now that I’m mobile.”
I looked up, confused.
“One of my Christmas presents. A car of my own. My parents—mostly my father, I think—
decided that now that I’m a college man, I should have my own car.”
“You got a car? For Christmas?”
None of the people I knew in school had ever gotten a present like that, nor had we heard of anyone who had. We had to borrow a car if we wanted to drive somewhere, or save up for our own barely-running used car.
“I know what you’re thinking, Carter. I didn’t really want one. I guess I’d gotten used to having someone drive me everywhere I wanted. I’d asked for one in high school, because girls like you to have your own car, but my folks shot me down. I don’t know why they changed their mind now.
Anyway, I have a car.”
I asked about it, and come to find out it wasn’t just your basic transportation vehicle. It was a new, high-end sporty model. I kind of knew what they cost from seeing the ads in the papers, and I just shook my head. This was so far out of my league that I could only marvel at it from afar.
“Well, that’ll come in handy if you ever get a part-time job delivering pizza.”
“Just what I was thinking. I brought some snacks with me. You hungry?”
I admitted that I could probably eat something more, and he produced some wrapped sandwiches—there looked to be at least a half dozen—and I picked one. It turned out to be homemade turkey with lettuce and cranberry sauce. It was one of the best sandwiches I’d ever eaten.
We talked for awhile, then I decided to get some sleep while Larry headed off to see if there were a party. I had to admire his dedication.
And so the next few days passed. I read a lot, till I felt fairly up to date with the assigned reading. I spent some time in the library with my personal research into psi, mostly trying to separate the sensationalist drivel from the serious studies.
Come Monday, classes resumed with my schedule the same as the previous semester with the exception of my English Lit class, which was now Wednesday and Friday mornings. So much for vacation Fridays. Easy come, easy go.
The big surprise was that grades finally showed up in my campus mailbox. I’d thought it would take a little longer for them to get around to it, but they were prompt. And, amazingly, I did better than I expected. I got A’s in everything except Real Analysis, where I received a B+. I got an A-in Chemistry which disappointed me a bit because I thought I’d done better than that.
That made me review my expectations for my ability to step into a teacher’s mind and absorb selected fragments of their knowledge. I’d latched on to the Chem TA’s knowledge of the subject, which was considerable. But he wasn’t preparing the lectures or setting the exam questions. That was the purview of the professor teaching the course, and her mind was harder to reach because it was a large class and I needed her focus on me in order to establish a link. I would need to rethink how to do this.
I was a little puzzled by the grade in Real Analysis. In that case I had made a connection with the instructor—it was a smaller class, only about twenty of us—and thought I had gotten a sense of the subject and its framework. I felt like I had understood the material. Still, I wasn’t terribly worried. The B+ was quite a respectable grade, and I’d pretty much decided that I wasn’t going to be a math major. But I might minor in it, and it would be important to understand the subject, which I assumed would be reflected in the grade.
The instructor said he’d return the exams at the next class so we could see what we’d missed.
Then I’d find out how I messed up.
Well, for the moment I’ll consider this memory eavesdropping a work in progress. I’ll need to figure out more about how memory is organized and how to find the knowledge I need more efficiently.
Later, I sat down and wrote a brief email to Karen, wondering how her exams had gone and telling her how I’d done. I didn’t make it a long message, as she’d be involved with studying. But I did mention Larry’s Christmas present because I knew it would amuse her to see how the other half lives. I also called home and gave them the grades news, which pleased my mother no end.
Tuesday morning my first class was European History II, same professor, Professor D I called him, the superannuated one who looked like he was at death’s door, but whose brain was still razor sharp. I’d disliked history in high school, because it was presented as an array of names, places, events and dates to be memorized, almost without context. We got none of the sense of interacting people and events, very different from what we learned here. I was developing an appreciation for understanding history because the guy made it interesting.
Every so often, perhaps once a lecture when I’d momentarily gotten his focus, I’d step into his epicenter and rummage through his knowledge in an attempt to understand the facts he was presenting. I was making a concerted effort to find the right-sized “chunks” of knowledge to take from him. My first attempts left me overwhelmed and a little dizzy, because it was physically difficult to assimilate and store too much new information. I had felt faint. I was trying to find a balance.
I thought I had gotten a handle on it toward the end of the last semester, but I think the right size differed depending on the subject I was trying to learn. Lots of separate data elements, as in history and English, seemed to be harder to store and recall. Learning algorithms, processes and techniques, such as in math and chemistry, were a bit easier. I’d figure it out eventually.
I stopped by the campus post office before lunch to check my mailbox. I got my first credit card offer in the mail, a rite of passage. Then I looked at the interest rates they charged and decided to pass. But there was also a letter from Karen, which was a surprise now that we had email. It turned out to be a brief note saying she was in the middle of exams, but she wanted to send me my copy of the photo that Carlie had taken of us at the New Year’s party.
I stared at the picture and felt my heart pounding. The photo captured just how beautiful she had looked, but the thing that grabbed my heart was the look on her face as she looked up at me.
There was no doubt at all in my mind, she loved me. I put the photo away carefully and would find a place for it on my desk where I could see it all the time.
After lunch, I headed off to the first Chem class of the second semester. I thought I had had a good grasp of the topics we’d covered in the fall and had been a tiny bit disappointed at getting an A- in the class. Yeah, I know, I should be happy, but I thought I’d done better in the final. We’ll get the exams back in the recitation tomorrow and I could see where I’d messed up.
I’d kind of liked Chemistry better than I thought I would. I liked the idea of trying to understand what would happen if you mixed certain chemicals together and how to predict what would happen.
It was a little like a detective story, trying to figure out who dunnit from the clues you found.
Anyway, I was looking forward to this semester.
After class there was, as usual, the chem lab, where the graduate assistants tried to keep us all from killing or maiming ourselves or each other, while trying to teach us something useful. They seemed to be batting around .500. People weren’t always careful.
And that was my Tuesday. They were all going to be pretty much like that. After dinner at the chuck wagon, I went off to Math Club, where someone from the math department talked about group theory and its applications. They didn’t spend much time on the applications because they were enamored by the beauty of the symmetry in group theory. He left a lot of us in his wake.
Afterwards, I settled down on my bed to catch up on my reading until my computer dinged to signal an incoming email. No one sent me email except Karen, so I bounced off the bed. She said... well, I’ll just let her tell it.
Hi. I finally feel like I can breathe again. From the time I got back on campus I felt like I was underwater and didn’t have enough air to last. I never felt like this last year, I always felt like I knew the answer to anything they could throw at me on a test. This year, I don’t know, it was like I wasn’t sure that I understood everything they’d talked about .
I’m not alone. Except for a few people who seem to have no doubts about anything they had learned, we all felt like there were parts of each class they we weren’t quite sure of. And we’re smart people—you and I talked about that over Christmas—but this is like a whole different level of learning.
Anyway, when I’d finished my last exam I felt something like, maybe despair, like I had no idea how I’d done and whether it would be good enough. I wanted to throw in the towel and just go home. The only thing that kept me here is seeing so many folks whose minds I respect in much the same state.
So we did what all college students do in that situation. We got drunk. I told you what happened the last time I did that, but this time we were all feeling too sorry for ourselves. A bunch of us went to the local diner and got comfort food hoping it would make us feel better. I had cake and pie.
There, I said it and I’m not ashamed.
It was a pretty depressing few days, there was a lot of crying all through the dorms, then classes started up again in earnest and we didn’t have time to feel sorry for ourselves.
So today, finally, grades were posted. Well, mailed, actually. And I did... okay. Apparently I hadn’t made as many mistakes on the exams as I thought I had. I won’t detail everything, but I got A’s and a couple of B’s. That conversation we had came back to me when I started panicking about my poor showing. I hate that I got B’s, but I’ll try to figure out what I can do to improve there.
Carter, your voice keeps lurking in my head, telling me about passports to grad school and jobs and the specific grades don’t matter as much. It’s a little creepy, you in my head, but nice to hear a friendly voice. (!)
Did you get Carlie’s picture? I mailed it to you. I really like it. I’ve got it here in front of me.
What did you do to amuse yourself before you had to head back to school, while I was sweating exams and you were lazing on the couch eating bon-bons?
I asked around after exams when I was feeling a little better about myself, looking into what research opportunities might be available for undergrads. I don’t have much definitive information yet, but there are some things there. That could be fun.
I’m rambling a bit now, but I wanted to let you know how I’d done. I’m happy to hear about your exams. You seem to get less stressed about them, if I’m reading between the lines correctly. Is that true? Why don’t you worry over them? Even in high school, when I was pretty sure I’d done well, I still worried about the things that could have happened. Maybe I’m just nuts. Come visit me in the sanitarium.
—K
I had to smile. Partly because she was making an effort to be lighthearted about her obsession with perfection, and partly because I thought it would be good for her to have to face that.
I clicked ’Reply To Sender’ and wrote a quick answer to her email. Yes, I’d gotten the picture, and thanks. I think it’s the best picture I’ve ever seen of you, you looked stunning. It’s here above my desk and every time I look at it I smile and say to myself, ’You lucky bastard!’
I did almost nothing after you left, I said, some reading and a few forgettable movies. My mother started prying since I was around, like the old days, and it started to get on my nerves, so I left for school a few days early.
I told her that I did worry about exams, but some part of me gets more out of the process of learning so I don’t obsess so much about the tests of what I’d learned. I’d been doing some reading, I said, and I thought I was something like the psychologist Abraham Maslow’s idea of the self-actualizing individual, focused on the skills that expand your ability to fulfill your innate aptitudes and desires, and less on other’s judgment about how well you have learned them.
If you have time, I mentioned, ask Carlie if she could print a wallet-size copy of the picture you sent, so I can carry it with me. I’ll pay her whatever it costs to do that. I’ll leave you alone now with your pie and cake.
I sent the email, and sat back in the chair, thinking about her. I thought there were two extremes for students heading off to college, one the students looking for a four-year party, with a few classes mixed in, and the other the grade-obsessed over-achievers like Karen who are suddenly faced with a reality they’d never had to face before.
In both cases, if they didn’t change their attitude it would not end well. I thought Karen had enough self-awareness to realize that she’d have to change, to adjust to her new reality.
I lay back on the bed and did some more reading, then went to sleep.
Wednesday was a busy day, with English Lit in the morning, followed by the Chem II recitation section. When I looked at the final exam that he passed back, I mentally slapped myself. Several times. I had made multiple foolish arithmetical errors, which made a few of my answers wrong even thought the steps to derive them were correct.
Geez, I hadn’t done that since early in high school. I hadn’t been paying attention to the details, and as a result I screwed up. If I hadn’t done that, I would have gotten an A in the course. That was a hard lesson.
In the Real Analysis class, the comments on several of the problems informed me that I hadn’t understood the concepts as well as I’d thought. O-kayyyy, I’ll buy that. Maybe I’ll have to spend a little more time on this, and maybe I’ll have to mine a bit more knowledge from the prof’s mind.
The problem with that is that I didn’t know what I didn’t know, so I’d have trouble finding what it was I’d have to learn.
Then I mentally shook my head and said, hold on, why are you doing this the hard way? Why not just ask him? He had office hours, take advantage of them. Let him point me in the right direction. I resolved to do that.
I just had enough time after class to get back to the dorm and grab my workout bag. The Martial Arts club had its first meeting for this semester and I felt like I could stand to work off some stress.
It was more sparsely attended today, for whatever reason, but we were given sparring partners and told to go easy on one another. I got the guy who did Brazilian jiu-jitsu, who was much better at grappling than I was. He made sure the floor was clean by using my uniform to polish it. But I did get in one good throw and pinned him well enough that he had to tap out to get free. Still, I think we both picked up some new things.
I was pretty well wiped by the time I got back and took a shower. I would have some muscle soreness in the morning. I had dinner with Larry, who said he had resolved to spend more time studying after looking at his first semester grades. He passed, mostly.
On Thursday, I had history class again. I had to give the guy credit, he made the subject interesting and his enthusiasm was catching. It may have been my imagination, but he seemed to be looking in my direction more often. I thought he was looking at me, but maybe he was checking out the girl behind me.
After class I took a detour and met with the instructor for Real Analysis, who had office hours till noon. I had to wait a few minutes till he finished with someone else, but I sat down and asked him straight out to help me understand the concepts I’d messed up on in the final. I brought the corrected exam for him to look at.
A lot of teachers I think really wouldn’t be bothered, thinking that if you can’t understand it from the lectures and from reading, then there was probably no hope for you. To his credit he seemed pleased that I was trying to understand what I had missed, and spent some time explaining the concepts and asking me questions to make sure I’d gotten it.
I began to see how I had misinterpreted what I had learned, which had led to my mistakes on the final. And talking it through, to make sure I had grasped it, I worked through the exam problems again, out loud. “That’s it,” he told me, “you’ve got it.”
Just so we’re clear here, it wasn’t simply my innate intelligence that helped me work through it properly, I looked into his epicenter to watch how it was done. I wasn’t proud, anything that’ll help me master these ideas is fair game, so I “borrowed” some of his knowledge until I felt confident with the concepts.
As I wandered off to the mess hall to get some lunch before my next class, I ruminated about how the world might change, just from an education standpoint, if everyone had the ability to link into another’s mind and absorb knowledge. Everyone would, for example, be able to do calculus, or have a solid grasp of American and European history, just by piggybacking on the knowledge of an expert.
Some of those people would become fascinated by those ideas and perhaps find new insights into a topic that had never occurred to anyone before. And some would, I suppose, now be saddled with knowledge that they would never use in their daily tasks. There was something to be said for having an educated and thoughtful electorate, able to draw parallels with other times and other places.
I then wondered if there was something in people’s brains that would prevent them from assimilating that knowledge. There are certainly people who are forgetful, unable to recall even simple things like their home phone number. What would happen if they had the ability to borrow this information but could not store it or retrieve it? What would be the psychological ramifications? I suppose it could lead to some kind of mental trauma, a new kind of psychosis.
Nothing’s ever easy, is it? I was having enough trouble learning to deal with this myself. I thought the downsides to making it generally available, if that were possible, outweighed whatever positive effects it might bring to a society.
I got a sandwich and some soup—it was cold out—and found a table. I ate the soup and felt a little better, then started on the sandwich.
“Carter, my man, can I share your table? It’s crowded.”
Con Doherty was already sitting down, so apparently it was a rhetorical question. He had a burger and a plate of fries, plus a large soda. Well, not my job to offer nutritional counseling to the basketball team.
“What are you off to next?” he asked, and I told him that Chemistry was up next, then a lab.
“Better you than me. Science intimidates me. Especially if there’s math involved.”
I asked, and found out he was a Business major, which is kind of like saying you’re a liberal arts major, you study a little of this, a little of that, until you’ve dabbled in enough things to call yourself educated. There doesn’t seem to be much purpose to it other than to provide you with a general background of large ideas.
“You do okay on finals?” he asked me.
“Yeah, mostly, I screwed up a few things I shouldn’t have and that got me dinged, grade-wise, but I did okay. You?”
“I passed. But I think it might be partly due to my being in the basketball varsity. Nobody will say anything definite, but there are always a few winks going on between the coaches and some of the professors so we have our suspicions. You got plans for the weekend?”
“Not this weekend, no. I’ll probably try to catch up on my reading.”
“Carter, you need to learn when it’s time to relax. It helps keep you fresh. You know, ’All work and no play makes Jack a real tool.’ Is that how it goes?”
“More or less. I have nothing against fun, Con, I like it. But too much of the fun around here involves getting yourself so wasted you can’t remember what you did to have fun. Not my idea of fun. But that’s just me. You gotta choose your own fun.”
“Yeah, I hear ya. I’ve done a couple of those where I woke up and didn’t know where I was or how I got there. I try not to do that too much anymore. Anyway, there’s a party tomorrow at the Kappa house that promises to be fun, good band, lots of women, and not just from here, either. It’s open by invitation from one of the regulars. I’m a regular. Why don’t you come? It’ll loosen you right up.”
“Those frat parties don’t do much for me. It’s like a contest to see who can get the most drunk soonest. As attractive as that sounds, it doesn’t really ring my chimes.”
“Well, you’re the one who decides how drunk you get. Nobody’s forcing you.”
He had a point. It might beat sitting around the dorm staring at the walls. I told him I’d think about it and maybe check in with him tomorrow. I glanced at my watch and saw that class was looming, so I took my leave.
I did Chem class and then hustled off to my lab section. Not much to report. I wrote up my experiment results and handed it in, then paused as I started off to Psych Club. I thought, maybe not today, I’m tired. So instead I went back to the dorm and took a nap. I felt better when I woke up, and Larry and I went and had dinner. I read till bedtime.
Friday, which used to be my ’vacation’ day, now had my English Lit class scheduled for 9 a.m.
I’d done the assigned reading and then some, so I had a leg up and was able to ask some intelligent questions. At least I thought they were intelligent.
And that was it. I had the rest of the day free. Well, of course I had assignments and problem sets to complete, so I spent the bulk of the rest of the day doing that. At the end of the afternoon, I thought I was up to date on everything. That probably wouldn’t last long, and I’d start feeling the pressure as the semester wore on, but for now I felt caught up.
I napped for an hour, then went off to eat. I wondered where Larry was? It was unlike him to miss a scheduled meal. Maybe he’d hooked up with that girl he liked, what was her name? Marina?
When I stepped back into the dorm hallway, I saw Con Doherty just coming out of his room.
“Carter, hey, did you decide to join the party at Kappa? What’ll it be?”
I hadn’t thought about it, but now that he mentioned it I realized that I had nothing I had to do.
I was caught up on everything, and didn’t even have something put aside for recreational reading.
It was looking to be a boring evening.
“Maybe I’ll tag along for awhile, Con, at least to check it out. Thanks for asking.”
“Good. I gotta go eat. Party won’t start in earnest till nine-ish. I’ll probably head over around then. Knock on my door, okay?” He trotted off to the mess hall.
I straightened up my side of the room and set aside the clothes that needed a wash. I’ll do that tomorrow. I read some more from the Norton Anthology just to have something to do until it was about nine. I grabbed jacket and gloves and went to knock on Doherty’s door.
“Well, you’re prompt, I’ll give you that,” he said, throwing the door open for me. “Lemme finish tying my shoes, then we can go.”
And off we went, Con rambling on about the intensity of the basketball coach and how miserably he was treating the team. Their next scheduled game was tomorrow, but Con saw no in-compatibility between a party tonight and an important game tomorrow. He had his priorities established.
Kappa house was just outside the main campus, on a private street. I wondered how the neighbors dealt with the frequent parties and noise. Because even now, just as the party was supposedly beginning, you could hear it from the end of the street. It got louder as we approached.
Con walked up the steps and went right in. Apparently he was a frequent guest and felt comfortable walking in without invitation. The inside was chaos, people everywhere, everyone shouting to make themselves heard above everyone else.
“Doherty, you animal! Now the party can begin!” The shouter was waving a sixteen ounce beer in front of him and from his shaky stance it was the latest of several.
“Ahern, everything I know about animal behavior I learned from you. This’s Carter, a friend from the dorm, good guy. Carter, this is my high school buddy, Bobsy Ahern.”
I said hello, and Ahern said, “Any friend of Doherty...", but interrupted the sentiment to drain half the beer.
Con spoke up. “Carter, I’m gonna wander around, say my hellos. Grab yourself a drink and make yourself to home.” He wandered off to the nether regions of the big house.
I shrugged, while Ahern went looking for another beer. I found the kitchen, which was doing double duty as Alcohol Central. There was a fridge which, when opened, seemed to contain only beer and no food. Probably had another fridge for food. On a hunch, I opened the freezer compartment and found two bottles of vodka. I settled for a beer.
I admired the dedication that many fraternities had to the stereotype of a frat house and its occupants. Glancing through the doorway into the next room, I saw one guy asleep on the floor, his back against the wall and drink threatening to fall out of his hand. People were stepping over him as they passed, as they might step around a piece of furniture.
I took my beer into another room where there was music blaring and groups of men and women engaging in shouted conversations. A couple of women were attempting to dance, but couldn’t get any of the guys to join in. They continued dancing, resolutely. Against a far wall, one guy, presumably a frat member, had a drink in one hand, and the other hand pressed against the wall as he leaned in trying to charm the girl he had cornered. She didn’t look entirely unwilling.
I saw someone I recognized from my English Lit class across the room and raised my beer in salute. He smiled back, then returned to his conversation.
So far the bash was filling the mold of my notion of a frat party. Most of the folks I’d seen looked to be too drunk to even have an intelligent discussion, but that didn’t seem to be the point of these parties. Part of me felt like those on the autism spectrum who are unable to perceive the social cues most of society takes for granted. A lot of college students were so accustomed to parties where everyone drank to excess, some to the point of unconsciousness, that they accepted it as the norm for parties.
I didn’t fit in, because I didn’t like doing that, in fact didn’t like seeing others do it. That made me something of an outsider. I never felt such a desperate need to ’belong’ to a group that I’d join them in drinking till I threw up. And people like Doherty and Ahern probably were just as puzzled by why I declined to join in the fun. Different strokes, I guess.
Speaking of Doherty, he wandered by, beer in hand, and did a double-take when he saw me.
“Carter! Having a good time? You know there’s more party upstairs, right? And in the rec room downstairs, too. See ya.”
Con seemed to know everyone, and had greetings and a slap on the back for everyone he met.
I thought, that’s probably just the kind of behavior that’ll make him a success in business. Maybe it was a good choice for a major for him after all.
I reached my attention limit for this room and wandered off to see what the rest of the place looked like. Con was right, there was more going on upstairs. In one room, the door half closed, one frat guy had his girlfriend—or maybe it was someone he’d just met—on her knees on the bed with her pants pulled down, while he humped her from behind.
In the next room the door was open and a half dozen guys and girls were passing a joint around, laughing hilariously. At the end of the hall, in a third room, five guys were sitting on the floor arguing loudly about sports. Hard to tell who was winning.
I was done with my beer and in lieu of anything more interesting to do I went back to the kitchen and found another beer. The guy asleep on the floor had fallen to one side and was now snoring against the wall, still holding his drink. I had to admire his skill.
A door I hadn’t noticed opened in the kitchen and a young guy climbed the stairs into the kitchen holding his cup sideways, meaning he was looking for a refill. He headed for the mixers and the various bottles to pour himself another. Might as well check out the last party area, so I opened the door and headed downstairs.
It was a pretty large open area, the walls covered with faux walnut paneling. There were couches and chairs all around the walls, and a wet bar with a keg on the counter took up part of one wall. In a corner, one guy was leaning against the wall, while a girl was kneeling in front of him giving him a blowjob and his friends cheered him on. A smaller group of girls stood a little further away, giving comments and advice.
“Suck his balls, Brianna! Jerk him off and suck his balls.” Another called out, “Is that as deep as you can go? You’re a real disappointment, B.” They were egging each other on to see who could make the raunchiest comment.
I watched for awhile, because who doesn’t like amateur porn? The guy looked like maybe he’d had a bit too much to drink and it was becoming an effort to keep it erect, but Brianna wouldn’t admit defeat. A contest of wills.
I stood near the group of girls, who continued a running commentary. “More tongue, B,” one called out, “that’ll get him going!”
She turned to me and said, as one would inform a newcomer who’d joined a group of onlookers to a traffic accident, “She’s been working on him for ten minutes, at least. I don’t think she can get him off.”
“Maybe a bit too much alcohol for him,” I commented. “She looks like she’s had just enough.”
“The night’s young, she’s just started. Who’re you? You’re not one of the frat guys, are you?”
“No, just a guest, here only because there was not a single other thing to do tonight. A friend invited me. I’m Tom.”
“Hi, Tom. Allie here. These two are Kath and Barb. You met Brianna. You in school?”
“Yeah, I’m at ——————. You?”
“We’re all at Forbes University, and we’re here slumming.” She raised her cup to her friends and said, loudly, “Here’s to Forbes U.”
They all shouted in unison, “Eff you!” Across the room scattered voices echoed “Eff you.”
“Catchy,” I said. “I see what you did there.”
“School spirit is important.”
One of her friends cried, “Oh, look, Allie, I think Brianna’s about to finish him off!”
Sure enough, the guy against the wall had his eyes closed, his face scrunched up and fists clenched, while Brianna bobbed her head even faster. The guy grunted while Brianna stroked him off into her mouth, his cum dribbling down her chin. The girls applauded, accompanied by the cheers of his friends.
The guy slid down the wall to the floor, while Brianna got to her feet, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. One of her girlfriends handed her a paper napkin. The others slapped her on the back and congratulated her. I dunno, maybe it had been a bet or something. Brianna found a beer and washed the cum down with a couple of swallows.
They huddled in a corner discussing something animatedly. The recipient of the blowjob was getting to his feet, pulling up his pants. He stumbled off in search of another drink.
I found my beer empty, too, so went to the bar to refill it from the keg. I’d seen the entirety of Kappa House, except for the back end of the rec room, so I ambled in that direction.
The layout of the basement of the house was odd. There was a section with an open doorway off the back of the room that couldn’t be seen from the stairs and the bar and most of the rest of the space. That section had a TV and a couple of couches and a crowd in front of the opening. The crowd was chanting, “Unh, unh, unh” and laughing. Odd.
I was just tall enough to see over some of the shorter people. One of the frat bros was lying naked on the couch with a girl squatting over him. He was pumping his dick into her pussy in time with the chant. Or they were chanting in time with his thrusts.
The girl was telling him what to do and how to do it, like he’d never done it before and wouldn’t be able to figure it out without her guidance. “C’mon, you lazy fucker, harder, fuck me harder.
Stick that thing in all the way. Faster, you bastard, slap my ass, make me cum, c’mon, do it.”
It was amusing in a way, like a parody of a bad porn flick, with voiceovers for all the dialog, grunts and dirty talk added for your viewing pleasure.
She really did seem to be struggling, unable to find her orgasm. The dude, to his credit, was fucking her in a workmanlike fashion, though perhaps lacking some finesse. This seemed to be her problem rather than his, maybe too much alcohol interfering with her concentration.
I couldn’t look into her epicenter to see what was happening because I didn’t have her focus.
But I could channel things to her. Because I was bored, I sipped my beer and channeled a finger on her G-spot. Her head rose up, surprise on her face. This was new, she thought, and promising.
“That’s it, you cocksucker, do that, c’mon, pound your cock in my pussy. Harder, harder, almost there.”
The crowd picked up the chant, and now it changed from “Unh, unh,” to “Harder! Harder!”
She had her eyes shut tight, and I channeled some hard pinches to her nipples and heard her moan. “Fuck, yes, it hurts so good, fuck my pussy, motherfucker!”
He looked like he was about to pass out from dehydration. I thought someone should pour some beer in his mouth, but they were all wrapped up in the action.
Maybe I could give him a respite. With the channeled finger still working her G-spot, I channeled a tongue attacking her clit. Her voice changed, getting a little desperate. “Yes! Yes! A little more, don’t stop!”
There was a pause while he continued to hammer his cock into her cunt, then she shouted,
“Fuck, yes, there it is, do it, do it, I’m cumming, FUCK!”
He did another twenty seconds of pumping, then she collapsed, rolling off onto her side on the couch. The crowd applauded, and a few shouted, “Who’s the man? Chuck’s the man!”
Chuck nearly fell onto the floor. He reached up and took a beer out of someone’s hand and drained it. He got shakily to his feet, dressed only in his shirt and socks and stumbled off into the other room, the condom still on his dick. The girl remained on the couch, naked and semi-conscious. One of her friends sat beside her and offered her a drink of something.
“What’d I tell you, Carter? Awesome party! The band’s upstairs setting up now. Then things’ll really get jumping.” Doherty looked like he’d done his best to empty a keg. He laughed at nothing and wandered off.
Nothing more to see here, so I went back to the other room. Scattered groups were competing in the alcohol consumption races while they shouted amongst themselves. Someone grabbed my arm as I passed,
“Hey, Tom. It was Tom, wasn’t it? We need an objective opinion here, so help us out.” It was the girl, Allie.
“We’re trying to assign a grade to Brianna to figure out if she passed. I told you we’re in a sorority, right? I didn’t? Well, we’re Delta Lambdas and Brianna here is a pledge, and one of her initiation tasks was to give a blowjob to a guy of our choosing. She had to get him off in under ten minutes. But the clock says it took her closer to eleven. So we’re trying to decide if we should give her a free pass. So we’d like an objective opinion as to the quality of the blowjob.”
“Shouldn’t you be asking the guy she gave head to?”
“Yeah, well, it seems that he’s passed out and we can’t wake him. So you’re his proxy. ’Cause you’re male.”
“I’m pleased that you noticed.” Brianna stood in the back and looked like she was awaiting the verdict for a capital crime. Geez, it’s just a sorority, Brianna.
But it looked to be important to her, and I had no right to step on her dreams. “I think you may have answered your own question, Allie, when you said the guy had passed out. That might have been due to the quality of the blowjob, but more likely that he was so wasted when she started that it took her longer to get him off, and when she did she drained him of energy.
“I think most women would have given up long before that. If he hadn’t have been so drunk, I bet she’d have had him shooting his load in three minutes, judging from what I saw. I say she passed with flying colors.” Brianna beamed in the back.
“You raise a good point. He was pretty wasted. He could barely stand up. Okay, I vote yes for admission. All in favor, raise your hands.”
All the girls raised their hands, except for Brianna, who jumped up and down and clapped her hands. She hugged everyone, and mouthed a silent ’thank you’ to me.
They gathered in a circle and buzzed happily. I was, I realized, feeling a little buzz myself. I didn’t drink that much as a rule, so a couple of beers was more than my normal. I went to the other side of the room and found an empty place on a couch. I watched the traffic and sipped my beer.
Someone flopped down on the couch next to me, hard. I turned to look and it was the girl who was riding the dude on the couch. “I’m worn out and dry,” she said. “Can I have some of your beer?” She didn’t wait for permission, just took it out of my hand and drank most of what remained.
“Thanks. I was parched.” She hadn’t yet found her pants, but she was wearing panties with a shirt barely covering them.
“You’re welcome.”
“Are you a frat guy? I don’t recognize you.”
“No, impartial observer, here for the party.”
“Okay, then. The frat guys are sometimes a bit intense. I saw you talking with my crew, Allie and the others.”
“Oh. You’re with them? I just met them. Are you in the same sorority?”
“No, they’re Deltas, I’m a Phi, but I know them from classes and we hang out sometimes. I’m Alicia, by the way.”
“Tom. Nice to meet you, Alicia.”
“Did you impartially observe me and the stud on the couch in there? Everybody else did.
Sometimes I just need to get my rocks off. I thought he’d be a better fuck, but maybe the alcohol slowed him down.”
“That seems to be a general rule, where alcohol’s concerned. Anyway, it looked like you finally got to where you needed to go.”
“For the moment, yeah. But it’s a long week, and I need to have something in the bank.
Anyway, I think I’ve gotta find a drink of my own. Nice talking to you.”
She got up and wended her way up the stairs to Alcohol Central for a refill of whatever she’d been drinking, her butt peeking out from under the loose shirt.
Someone else plopped down next to me. It was the guy I’d been introduced to by Doherty, what was his name? Oh, Ahern. Bobsy Ahern. He mentioned that the band was about to start playing, it was going to be awesome, what did I think of the party, did I get enough to drink?
He was pretty mellow from whatever he’d been imbibing, so I answered his questions agreeably, and asked him a couple of things about himself, how did he know Doherty, and so on.
“I knew Doherty from high school, I was a year ahead of him. We both played basketball, but he was way better than me. He got a scholarship, I didn’t. Party animal.”
I agreed with him. “So where’d the nickname Bobsy come from? That’s a new one I haven’t heard before.”
“Oh. That. I’m a twin. Identical. My brother’s Paul, I’m Robert. He doesn’t go here, thank God. In school we were in many of the same classes, and someone—I wish I knew who so I could find them and ruin their life—started calling us the Bobbsey Twins, after the books. Because they knew we hated the reference. And to rub it in, I became, not Bob, but Bobsy.”
“Oh. I’m sorry I asked. That must have been miserable. I hate how cruel kids can be, even in high school.”
“Thanks. I think the worst of it’s over now. If only I can get rid of the nickname Bobsy.”
“If it’s any consolation, once you graduate and Doherty goes off somewhere, there’ll be almost no one left who will remember.”
“There’s that to look forward to. Anyway, time for a refill. Enjoy yourself.”
I assured him I would, but in truth I was already thinking about heading back to the dorm. The noise and the close atmosphere was already starting to give me a bit of a headache.
The upstairs door opened and I heard for a moment guitars being tuned and a sax warming up, playing riffs. The door closed and Alicia came back down, leading another guy by the hand. He looked like he couldn’t believe his good luck. I had to give her credit, she was methodical and a hard worker.
She walked past me, then turned and said, “Hey, you, Tom, why don’t you come in and stay close? I might need some assistance.”
I didn’t quite know what she meant. It looked like she already had her assistant by the hand.
Her connection was drifting, like a wisp of smoke from a fire, but I managed to grab it before it disappeared. I had to get up and follow, because it would break if she passed out of sight around the corner.
Her epicenter, sure enough, was muddy, fuzzy, partly due to the alcohol and whatever other substances she had taken, and partly because there wasn’t much logic and structure to her mind.
It was a fleeting impression, but it seemed she was a creature of whim and impulse, attuned to satisfying immediate needs.
Right now her focus was on reducing that sexual edge she was feeling. She was looking for someone to get her off. She was hard to read, because of the fuzziness I was seeing, but it seemed that her own self-induced orgasms were just pleasant, little things. She needed something bigger, and she needed a guy, maybe several guys, to get her to the place she couldn’t get to by herself.
In the other room, she had already stepped out of her panties and lay back on the couch. The guy was falling over himself trying to get his clothes off. “Don’t hurt yourself there, Charlie,” she said. He smiled an awkward smile.
“Tom, sometimes it helps if I’m able to suck a dick while someone’s fucking me. You mind if I borrow yours?”
That was about as direct an invitation as I’d ever gotten. I’m not sure why I had to think about it, but I did. Fortunately, she was involved with getting Charlie properly situated with her legs raised so he could get his dick in. By the time he was in place and sliding his dick into her, I’d decided that I might as well get a blowjob so the day wouldn’t be a total waste.
I got my shoes off, and my pants and my shorts followed. I felt a bit strange doing a threesome with another guy, especially with the crowd starting to gather in the doorway, but with half a stiffy I knelt on the edge of the couch, close enough that she could turn her head and get half my dick in her mouth.
I had enough of a buzz that I thought it would take some effort to reach an orgasm, so I didn’t apply an ejaculation filter. I closed my eyes and moved my hips just enough to slide my dick in and out. She got her tongue going, which felt pretty damn good.
While she sucked my cock, I thought idly about how driven she’d have to be to satisfy these urges enough to keep her on an even keel. Even if she were married or living with someone, they’d have to spend a lot of waking hours bringing her to orgasm. I smiled and thought, ’Tough job, but somebody’s got to do it.’ Still, I imagine it could become a chore if you had to do it day after day.
There might be some sort of compulsion at play here, like a sex addiction, but it would take a trained therapist a long time to work through it with her until she was cured. I suppose there are worse addictions.
Maybe I could at least give her a respite for a week. I wasn’t the one fucking her, but I didn’t think it mattered. I linkcast the Boner Bliss image, which would give her a rush at feeling a dick in her mouth, and the Foundation image to set her up for what might follow.
As soon as I did I felt her moan. Her body relaxed and was sensitized. The dick in her pussy now became her focus. But there was also the dick in her mouth, and as it slid in she felt her pleasure increase.
She was used to directing the action, telling everyone what to do and when to do it. But now she couldn’t talk, just mumble. I kind of liked what she was doing with her lips and her tongue, so I told her to do more of it.
“That feels so good, Alicia, take it deeper. Let me help.”
I put my hand on the back of her head and urged it toward me. The angle was bad, but I could get it to push into her throat a little. As soon as that happened, she got a rush that bordered on orgasm and I heard her grunting under me as I pushed in.
She put a hand on my hip and pushed back, gasping for air. “You bastard, Tom, are you trying to choke me with your dick?”
“You loved it, baby. I felt you getting off on it, trying to swallow my cock. Tell me you didn’t.
You can’t.”
“Let me control it, then. And Charlie, put a little more effort into that. It feels good, but I need more. C’mon, fuck me.”
She grabbed my dick and wrapped her lips around it again. I thought maybe she should get a little positive feedback, so I linkcast her a Summer Breeze, then reached under her open shirt and twisted a nipple. She gasped when it hit her and, garbled by the dick in her mouth, called out, “Yes, yes, like that, oh, good.”
Charlie, encouraged by his success in making her cum, started pumping into her harder. She responded by hooking her heels behind him and pushing him into her. I could hear her quietly grunting under me, my dick still in her mouth.
There was a kind of rhythm to sending her these orgasms. Too many too close together would leave her worn out, too few or too far apart would leave her frustrated. In the past, I thought the small ones were best spaced about three minutes apart. So I waited a bit longer, enjoying her tongue, then sent her another Summer Breeze. I felt her body tense, then relax.
Now she was working at it, pushing her hips into him, trying to find a larger orgasm. She was focused enough that she wasn’t paying much attention to my dick. I was thinking about what to give her next when she popped off my dick and started giving directions.
“That’s enough, let’s try something else. Let me get on top. Charlie, you lie down here so I can control the angle better. I’ll find a place for you, Tom, when I get settled.”
The two of them rearranged themselves and she guided him into her again and started grinding on his dick. I didn’t have much to do so I idly stroked my dick to keep it hard. I looked into her epicenter again and saw something bordering on desperation there. She’d had a couple of small orgasms and she knew there were some bigger ones around the corner, but she couldn’t find them.
She was so single-minded that she’d mostly forgotten about me. She had her eyes closed and was grinding into him so hard that I thought she might hurt herself. Or him. I reached out and twisted her left nipple, mostly to remind her that I was still here. I thought she’d get angry at having her concentration interrupted, but instead she said, “Fuck, yeah, that’s it, pinch it hard. Help me get there.”
Not what I expected, but it’s her body and she knows what works. So I alternated, pinching one nipple, then twisting the other, with an occasional slap to her boob. I hadn’t anticipated this preference, since she seemed to want to be in control, but I was reading that the unexpected bit of pain turned her on.
I wondered how she’d react to this. I reached back and swatted the cheek of her ass, and she cried out, “Fuck!” Poor Charlie was looking a little desperate now. I think he must have been close to cumming and was doing his best to hold off so she wouldn’t excoriate him publicly for his lack of stamina.
So I interspersed the nipple pinching with slaps to her ass until she started talking to herself, urging herself on. She seemed to like the unexpected. I wondered what would happen...
After the next slap to the ass, I slid my hand further back and pushed my middle finger into her ass, just an inch. Her head shot up and her eyes flew open. “Goddamn you, Tom, what do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m making you feel good. Tell me you don’t like it. Go ahead, tell me to stop!”
She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. I slid my finger in and out, a little deeper, and she closed her eyes and said, “Fuck you, you bastard. Do that.”
I could feel her right on the edge from the way she was breathing and moving her body. I added a second finger, and she was talking to herself now, “Oh, fuck, oh, fuck!”
I’d been so wrapped up in watching Alicia that I hadn’t been aware of the crowd that had gathered in the doorway. The murmurs and occasional rude comment were like background noise.
But someone, I thought maybe one of the Delta girls, had now started a chant. “Fuck her ass! Fuck her ass!”
The crowd got caught up in it, and picked it up, adding a stamp of their feet to it to give it rhythm. And at that moment, the band upstairs started playing. All we could hear down here was the thump of the bass echoing through the floor, and the pounding of the drums. Amazingly, it was in perfect rhythm to the chant!
I leaned down to Alicia’s ear. “That feel good, honey? You like that? You want more?”
I really couldn’t hear her, but I could see her lips moving, saying, “Yes. Yes.”
The crowd had gotten into a cadence now, a few of them swaying to the rhythm and singing along with the lyrics they’d made up, “Fuck her ass.”
“Alicia, what do you think? Do you want to get your ass fucked while Charlie’s pounding your pussy? Do you want me to fuck your ass?”
She had to think about it. This had progressed to something she hadn’t foreseen, but she knew she was close and needed something else to get her over the top. She finally opened her eyes and looked at me, and breathlessly said, “Yes. Fuck my ass. Get me off.”
I reached down to where I’d dropped my pants and found a condom in my wallet. I had no lube with me, but the condom had a little lubrication. I rolled it on, and the crowd had picked up on what was happening and were now pumping their fists as they chanted.
I leaned over Alicia’s butt and drooled some spit into her crack, while Charlie’s dick pistoned uncomfortably close to my nose. I worked the spit into her ass with my fingers, then added some more. That was about as lubed as I could get it.
While I was doing that, I linkcast her the Pulser image to ready her. This would send small pulses of pleasure with my dick in her butt, slowly increasing in intensity, each leaving a residue of light euphoria. If that didn’t get her going, I was going to have to bring in the heavy artillery.
With one foot on the floor by the base of the couch, I swung the other leg over the two of them onto an empty spot on the couch and worked my way close to her butt. She was desperate to cum so she couldn’t stop moving her butt, which made positioning my dick problematic.
Eventually I got the tip of my dick aligned with her butthole and kept it pressed against the opening while she continued to squirm. Though she had said she wanted her ass fucked, her body was doing its best to thwart it. When she finally slowed down, I pressed my thumb against the head of my cock and felt her ass open slightly and it slipped in. She yelled out loud, “Oh, FUCK!” and the crowd applauded.
It was barely in, and one awkward twitch from her butt would make it pop out again, so I repositioned myself to a better angle and pushed in with my hips. It slid in a good half its length and she called out, “Oh, fuck you, you cocksucker!”
But it was just her normal, trained response that was saying that, her way of maintaining control and dominance. In her head, she was being hammered by these waves of pleasure, feeling euphoric.
and to be honest, I was feeling a bit euphoric myself, because her ass was tight and felt really good.
I was doing my best to control my pace, trying not to push in too far or too fast, because it would make me cum. I hadn’t set the filter, and it was a little late to do so now.
I wouldn’t last long like this, and I think poor Charlie was about at his limit, too, so I linkcast her the first of a series of images, the small waves breaking on a beach, nothing that would be overwhelming but it would make her shout.
Which is precisely what it did. She raised her head and called out, “Yes, yes, that’s it, oh, fuck, yes!” Again the crowd applauded. I spaced these images about ninety seconds apart, and made each one just a bit larger wave than the last.
After the third one she cried out, “Like that, do that, that feels good, fuck my little asshole, make me cum. C’mon, harder.”
I thought, she’s got a serious masochistic streak, hasn’t she? I’m fucking her ass with no lube, and she wants it harder.
But even with my edge dulled by the beers, I could feel myself getting very close. Her ass was gripping me and shaking and it wouldn’t be long now. I set up the end game and linkcast her Avalanche and tied it to my orgasm. I wasn’t sure what to do about poor Charlie.
I don’t know why I always wait till the finish line’s approaching before I start to think about this stuff. I’d never linkcast anything to a guy before. Well, there was that time in high school when some jerk from one of the upper grades was about to punch me in the face and I tried to linkcast a sense that he feared me, but I don’t think it worked.
But I knew how to trigger orgasms, at least in women. It shouldn’t be that different for men.
I could linkcast images to myself, after all. What’s the worst that could happen? His head could explode, I guess, but that didn’t seem likely, so I linkcast Fireworks to him and also tied it to my orgasm. All three of us would get off at the same time. Should be a finale worthy of an Emmy.
Charlie under me was desperately hammering her cunt, trying to make himself cum so he could finally rest. Whoever she wound up with eventually, she’d fuck him into a sanitarium in a state of complete exhaustion.
I picked up my pace, moving a little faster, and there it was, bubbling up from my scrotum. It’d be here in seconds, I knew, and I had to let her know. “Almost there, baby, I’m gonna cum so hard in your ass it’ll feel like the Fourth of July.”
The crowd, apparently containing some trained observers, could see that things were coming to a peak, and the chant changed to “Make her cum! Make her cum!” They had no idea what was about to happen.
Damn, here it is! I called out to her, “Fuck, here it is, baby, I’m cumming.”
And with that, I pushed my dick all the way in and exploded in her ass. Under me, she raised her head to the ceiling and howled! “Ohmigod! Yesyesyes, fuck, yes, don’t stop!”
Everything after that bore no resemblance to English, but was exclaimed with great conviction as she tossed her head back and forth. Charlie, along for the ride, had a quieter but no less enthusiastic reaction as he came, more relief than exultation. She’d worn him out.
The crowd broke out into cheers and applause. Her girlfriends were calling out congratulations.
I was doing my best to keep from falling down and rolling onto the floor. When her ass stopped twitching, I grasped the end of the condom and pulled slowly out of her butt, which emitted a polite little fart as it left. Charlie’s dick was still in her pussy, and he may have fallen asleep, I couldn’t tell.
One of the girlfriends, it might have been the one called Barb, pushed her way through with a plastic bag and a glass of water. “The water’s for her,” she said, “but I thought you could use this for anything you don’t need anymore.”
She held the water to Alicia’s lips and I pulled off the condom and dropped it into the bag. I had to hold on to the arm of the couch for a minute while I got my balance back. The crowd was beginning to thin out. I got my shorts and my pants on again, and found my shoes.
I made it as far as the next room and had to stop and rest on one of the couches. The drums and bass upstairs continued to provide the soundtrack for a headache that was starting behind my eye.
People passing by were calling out to me, “Awesome, dude!” When I was almost recovered, Allie walked up and passed me a beer. “You look like you could use one,” she told me.
“Thanks.” Actually, I didn’t want any more beer, but I was thirsty so I had some anyway.
She looked at me for a minute while I sipped the drink. “I’m glad she got off like that. She’s a little manic about it, if you hadn’t noticed. Maybe this will calm her down for awhile. You have hidden talents, my friend, I wouldn’t have thought it to look at you. Anyway, we’re going to get her home, so we’ll be taking off. Nice to meet you.”
I thought that taking off sounded good right about now. The noise was starting to get to me. I walked slowly up the stairs and as soon as I opened the door the music hit me like a fist. It would have been the right volume for a big club, but was way too loud for this confined area. I went to where I’d dropped my jacket and found it buried at the bottom of the pile.
As soon as I was out in the cold air and walking away from the house, the noise fell away and the cold air made me feel better. I thought that bed sounded really good right about now, and as soon as I got to the dorm, I fell into a stupor and didn’t wake till morning.