Girls Only: College Days Read Free Page B

two girls as Meg situated Whitney on the coffee table this time,
sliding her panties down. Whitney looked around, knowing the guys at the other
frat were seeing everything she was—the endless faces surrounding them, a
bunch of drunk, horny frat boys, every single one of them with an erection he
would jerk later, remembering this night.
    Then
she looked down at Meg as she settled herself between Whitney’s parted thighs
and knew Ryan was seeing this too—his girlfriend nuzzling Whitney’s pussy
open with her nose and tongue, their eyes locked as Whitney half-sat up on her
elbows. The sight of Meg, nearly naked, straps from the gear hanging from her
shoulders, kneeling between her thighs, was almost enough to send her into
orbit, but it was the press of Meg’s little pink tongue, slowly, softly lapping
at Whitney’s aching clit, that gave her the a sudden sense of flying. That, and
the still slick black vibrator Meg turned on and slid into her waiting, aching
cunt.
    Whitney
knew she should pay attention to what was going on—how the guys leaned in
to watch, how they nudged each other and snickered and made comments too low
for her to hear—but she couldn’t concentrate, not with Meg’s mouth
covering her pussy, the soft quiver of her tongue so perfect, so delicious. She
lost her hands in Meg’s hair, rocking her hips. Meg, too, found all this stupid
gear extraneous and attempted to strip her of it, but she couldn’t seem to do everything
at once.
    One
of the guys—the big one who’d met them upstairs, the one she’d called Jason
Bourne—leaned over to help Meg. Whitney glared at him, brushing his hands
away, trying to do the straps herself, but she couldn’t reach all the
fasteners.
    “It’s
okay,” he said softly, meeting her eyes. “I won’t touch you.”
    She
let him, moaning softly as Meg worked her tongue back and forth over her clit,
eyes closing involuntarily. She was getting close. Oh, so close. She heard one
of the guys say, “Thirty more seconds!” and knew she would make it. Meg was
going to make her come that fast. Then the straps were off, her bra undone,
breasts free, Meg’s hand cupping and kneading them as she worked her lips and
mouth and tongue between Whitney’s quivering thighs. With her other hand, she
fucked her senseless with the big, black vibrator.
    “Ohhhh
fuckkkk!” Whitney groaned, lifting her hips, completely carried away in the
moment. She forgot everything except Meg, lapping studiously between her
thighs, paying such nice, close attention to her clit. That focus was
persistent, tenacious. She couldn’t hold back anymore. “Oh! God! Meg! I’m
gonna—”
    And
then she was. Her hips rose up high, her pussy clamping down again and again
around the black cock with her climax, clit throbbing uncontrollably, a hot,
sweet pulse. Meg moaned too, licking and sucking even faster, making Whitney
gasp and buck on the table. She nearly fell off, but she felt hands steady her,
briefly. Big hands. When she opened her eyes, she saw Jason Bourne by her side,
closer than the rest.
    He
gave a brief nod and took a little step back.
    “Damn,
I want to fuck that.”
    Whitney
heard the words and knew what was coming.
    The
show was over. It had to be, before things got out of control.
    “Meg,”
Whitney said, grabbing her bra, her panties—Meg’s too—when she sat.
“I think we should—”
    “Hold
her down. I’m gonna fuck that pretty cunt.”
    Whitney
didn’t see his face. She just heard his buckle and zipper, turning her face to
his crotch.
    “That’s
not funny, man.” Someone else, trying to dissuade the would-be rapist. “It’s a
show. It’s just a show.”
    “You’re
not fucking anyone.” Jason Bourne stood, putting himself between Mr. Crotch and
the girls. Meg wasn’t paying attention, as usual, but Whitney stood, still
dizzy, and grabbed her arm, handing over her panties and bra.
    “Get
dressed!” Whitney hissed, yanking on her panties and quickly hooking her