We're kissing, like we were today in the A/V room: I'm sitting, my back to the wall, and you're kneeling facing me. I'm gently running my hands up the inseams of your jeans and around your butt. I pull you towards me so you arch your back a little: we smile at each other, you looking down at me. We're in that position when the door opens and he sees us. "Oh, I--"
"Wait, stay. It's ok, it's fine, we--". I scramble out from under you. "Really, stay. It's no biggie. Stay and talk"
"Ok...um, this is weird". He's turning red. "I'm just gonna--"
"We were both thinking about you anyway!", you blurt out. We stare at you, and you grin. The door slams: he's gone.
The next day in the cafe: We're sitting at a round table in the center of the room. You're eating a chocolate chip muffin and drinking green tea from your mug. "Yael", I read again. You're wiping a crumb off the corner of your mouth when I see him coming up the stairs behind you. "Hey!" I scoot my chair out and run to him "Hey, look, we don't want things to stay weird like this. Come talk to us. Just to, y'know, like iron things out"
"Uh . . . OK". He sits down, and the three of us consider each other for a second. "So, I'm sorry about the awkward comment" you say, raising your eyebrows and looking about to emphasize "awkward comment". "I was like, so confused, and I just needed to say something. I thought it would make it less weird, but, y'know, of course it made it more weird, and--"
"Were you really thinking about me?" he asks quietly, looking down at his lap. "I mean"--here he raises his eyes, and looks a first you, then me--"both of you?" I nod. He's thinking, scraping his nails on the table, deliberating. He starts to speak, then bites the tip of his thumb. You and I, we look at each other: neither of us dares to hope. "Can we--" he starts again. I decide to take the chance. "Come," I say. "Follow me".
The three of us walk single file, first me, then him, then you, on the thin asphalt walkway that leads behind the old gym. I lean against the wall, and it feels thin. One knee is bent, the sole of my shoe pressing against strange '70s architecture.
"Kiss her," I tell him. Really, you're the one doing the kissing; paralyzed, he can't make the first move, and you're the one who walk up to him and puts your lips on his. Your right hand is behind his neck your left on his back, pulling him in. You kiss hard and first, and then softer: you melt over each other. After the initial shock he warms up, and just as his hands start searching for the bottom of your shirt, looking for a way in, I put my hand on your shoulder and pull you back into our own kiss, leaving him standing there, panting and dizzy. We start out frantically, but I slow down the tempo, and then stop and look over your shoulder. You turn you head to look at him as well, and step away to the side.
I reach out and take one of his hands, and draw him close. I kiss him lightly, our lips barely touching--we kiss again, this one coming in waves, my tongue touching his and then pulling back, touching, it tastes sweet, I--another pair of hands, yours, from behind him, down the front of his jeans. He drops his head back and I kiss his collarbone. I look down to take off his shirt and see that you've unbuttoned his jeans, and that you're hand is on his dick--when you stroke toward the head, you pull the waistband of his boxer shorts away from his hips, and I glimpse his erection. I pull his shirt up, and he lifts his arms to let me get it off. I bend down to lick one of his nipples. His eyes are closed and he's moaning.
Suddenly you stop and turn him around, pushing both him and me hard again the wall. I turn his head to make out with him over his shoulder as you work his boxers off. A sharp intake of breath as your tongue comes in contact with his dick, and I can feel him shaking with the shock of his first blowjob. I wiggle out from behind him, my own dick straining inside my jeans. I kneel down beside you and join in, you on the right and I on the left. Our tongues touch, and you yield his dick to me, standing up to kiss him again. At your kiss he finally responds: his hands run hard and quickly over your back. He pushes one of your breasts up while slipping his other hand into your panties, curling one finger up into you, and then two.
I feel his hand on the back of my head, forcing his cock deeper into my throat. You've taken the reigns on your own pleasure, and are grinding into his fingers while he fucks my face. I can feel him tensing up, so I brace my hands against his hips, telling him to stop: it's not time yet.
I, from behind, help you push down on his shoulders, forcing him to the ground. You kneel, your knees on either side of his head. He runs his tongue against his front teeth, looking you straight in the eye. You abruptly stand up, and I stand behind you, and kiss you once on the neck, before sliding your pants to your ankles. You drop to your knees, and he sits up a little to lick you--long, slow licks, and then faster, sticking it deep inside you and then playing with your clit. He's dying to cum, and I sit next to his crotch, giving his cock a few idle tugs and a few teasing strokes, watching him eat you out. Your hands are up against the wall of the library, and your breath is getting faster. I give his dick a few licks before I put it back in my mouth, first the just the top, kissing around the corona, and then letting it slide into my throat. Just as the waves of orgasm as starting to spread from your crotch, curling your toes and sweeping ecstasy through your body, he cums, 1, 2, 3, 4 streams into my mouth.
I collapse, lying next to him, my face at the level of his crotch, tasting the cum in my mouth. You sit back on to his chest, pushing your hair out of your face with one hand. You stand, pulling your jeans back up. A bell rings. We all scramble to dress ourselves--his jeans have landed somewhere in the middle of the road. I kiss you quickly one last time, and run to class.
He's shy, and doesn't quite know what happened. "Was that . . . good?" you ask. "For you I mean, cos it was great for me, and for him, wow, it must have been--"
"Yeah. Wow, I mean..." You don't let him finish his sentence: one last kiss, deep. Off to class!