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2015-08-25
This is a series of stories all with significant truth to them; names have been changed, and some details have been re-worked to make it a more appealing story, but be certain that most of the events happened, or at least I *wished* they would've happened, to me.
Since I wrote this as a series of chapters, some are longer than others, and some are more or less erotic (like this one) than others. However, each one plays into the next.
Continued from College Tales Chapter 1: Partying with Randall
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I’ve had this dream since freshman year of college; I think it became more realistic when I actually learned about sex (not ‘about’ sex as in sex-ed class, but ‘about’ sex as in actually having it) that spring. It’s based on fact, but the actual events of the party are completely fictional.
We’re in high school or early college; at one time groups of us were in high school together, so there’s a range of ages at the party, from 18 to 23. Not everyone is ‘sexually active,’ but there’s enough hormones going around the vibe is certainly there. The party is at Ashley’s house. She lives with her mom and about five cats in the suburban development down the road from the high school. It’s a small, quiet neighborhood, but the neighbors are used to having us kids around Ashley’s house so the cops aren’t called without us being warned a few times first. Ashley’s mom is out of town, at her boyfriend’s house a few hours away, so the house is ours.
Ashley and I started fooling around a few years before, when she was a freshman and I was a junior. She was short, cute, and blonde, and had sharp features. Even at 14, Ashley had pretty impressive breasts (and they’ve just gotten bigger as she’s gotten older) – something not overlooked by a teenage boy. We made out, fondled, and fingered, but never did more than that. We’d seen each other naked, too, but by and large our mouths stayed above the waist, and no sex was to be had.
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We lost touch a bit when I went to college, but have seen each other a few times since graduation.
She’s just as gorgeous, and usually has a new boyfriend every time I see her: I’m never there at the right time to properly close our relationship with a . . . bang.
I show up to the party about an hour after the posted start time, and it’s raging. It’s dark outside, and the lights of the party inside illuminate the lawn. Music is playing from within the house and folks are smoking outside on the lawn, looking at the stars. I know Ashley’s mom likes wine, so I bring two bottles; one is to leave for her mom, the other is for the party. I enter through the garage door, squeezing through parked cars and the wall. The door opens up into the kitchen. I stop and look around: there are a few people milling about in the kitchen and dining room area, drinking beers and nibbling on whatever chips and dip are available.
There’s a couple making out in the corner by the closet door: the girl is sitting on the stool with her arms and legs wrapped around the boy. They’re pawing at each other frantically, like they’re unsure of where to put their hands. I remember being like that, early on in high school.
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It took a few very good and patient teachers to educate me about how to act with girls.
I smirk at a few of the other folks in the kitchen, who are awkwardly glancing at the couple in the corner. I open my wine and pour a glass, leaving the bottle on the counter. I cheers with a few other guys I recognize, and make my way through the house.
It’s been a while since I was here last, but I remember the layout well. Through the kitchen to the hallway, the basement staircase is to the left, across the hall from the bathroom. At the end of the hall are three bedrooms, a couple large closets, and the bathroom; Ashley’s mom’s room is off-limits, and the door is locked. I can see the light coming from under the guest bedroom door, and the bathroom is open and empty and dark. The basement has the TV and pool table, and connects with the backyard through large sliding glass doors.
There’s a large group in the basement I can see through the banister bars, but I want to find Ashley first. I stop someone I don’t recognize in the hall and ask where she is; they point me in the direction of her bedroom. I head to her room in the corner of the house, and knock softly. There’s no answer, but I can hear someone in there, so I open the door slowly. Ashley and I were each other’s firsts for a few things, so the trust between us is fairly strong, and I’m not too scared about entering the room uninvited. In the soft shadows I see someone sitting on the bed, and I hear someone rustling about in the closet.
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As my eyes adjust, I recognize the girl on the bed to be Sara, one of Ashley’s close friends. She’s looking down, with her head in her hands, sitting cross-legged with her back against the wall. Ashley peaks her head from around her closet door to see why the music just got louder and smiles when she sees my face. She puts on finger to her lips, to keep me quiet, and nods her head to Sara. I give her a confused look, but she just shakes her head. I close the door quietly, dulling the music, and enter the room.
Ashley is changing in her closet; she’s wearing a minuscule blue thong, a spaghetti-thin strap slips through her crack and connects with the waistband. She has a tight white t-shirt on; her large breasts, captured in what looks to be a blue bra beneath her shirt, stretch the fabric and pull the shirt up to reveal her pierced belly button. Her long blonde hair is pulled up in a tight ponytail on top of her head, and she’s wearing just a touch of make-up.
She smiles and embraces me in a hug as I enter the room. The room’s fairly dark, with just one lamp turned on in the corner; there’s a red cloth draped over the lamp. Sara hasn’t noticed I’m there yet and is still stitting on the bed. I kiss Ashley on the cheek and silently gesture to Sara, who’s wearing a tight-fitting pair of jeans and a fitted button-up shirt. Her short brown hair is held back with a headband, revealing a round, tanned face, with small features. Ashley calls softly to her, ‘Hey Sara, look who’s here.
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’
I go over to Sara as she looks up and gasps, swallowing. I sit on the bed, smile, and place my hand on her knee, ‘Sara, what’s going on?How are you?’
She smiles back and shakes her head, ‘Oh, nothing. Kyle broke up with me today. ’
Kyle and Sara started dating when we were in high school, and we all thought they’d stay together forever. This was certainly a shock.
‘Oh, man. I’m so sorry. ’I’m terrible with this type of comforting.
Sara nods and buries her head back in her hands, and starts crying. I sit with her a few more moments, but she’s in no mood to talk and I’m not quite sure what to say.
I look back at Ashley, who’s looking for the right pair of pants to put on. I quietly slide off the bed and go over to Ashley. I stand behind her, and as she bends down to pick up a pair of jeans that fell, I place my hands on her hips. She straightens and turns around. I leave my hands on her hips, and we stand closely, rocking slightly to the beat we can feel through the floor from the music player downstairs.
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She smirks and asks quietly, ‘How’re you doing?’
I smile back, ‘Fine. You look wonderful. Is Luis here?’
Her new boyfriend, last time I heard from her, was a guy from her college named Luis. He was a good guy, as far as I could tell.
Ashley’s face sinks: ‘No. We broke up a few weeks ago. ’
‘Oh, really?That’s too bad. Are you sad about it?’
She looks up at me, ‘Not anymore,’ and goes up on her toes to give me a kiss on the lips. Her hands rub my back, and I move mine to her perfectly shaped asscheeks, squeezing them.
She breaks the kiss and turns back around to get her pants. I let her go and she says, ‘I should stay with Sara for a while. Go on out; I’ll see you in a bit. You can stay the night?’
‘Yea, we’ll see where the night goes. I’ll see you in a bit,’ I respond. I squeeze her hand and leave the room, shutting the door quickly behind me to not disturb Sara any more.
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It was good to see Ashley and Sara, but I suppose with the good comes bad.
I walk away from Ashley’s room a bit and take in my surroundings. There were a few folks standing along the walls, chatting and drinking. The guest bedroom door is still closed, and the bathroom light has been turned on, but the door is open. I realize I’ve finished my wine, and head to the bathroom for a piss.
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Continued in College Tales 3: Blowjobs in the Bathroom.
