Kim Lazenby's Resumé Ch. 03

"You can get back to it," I said. "I don't want to keep you."

"I can't," she said. I sparked the truth inside her, and she did nothing to douse it. "My roommate is gone so it's hard to finish."

"She helps?"

"She watches."

I smiled, walked over to the couch as to presumptuously invite myself, and sat down. "I'll watch," I said.

A moment later, Kimmie was sitting in a chair, nude, sliding two fingers into herself and writhing. Her eyes were shut, lost in the rolling waves of pleasure she gave herself. But she knew I was watching, and I saw how she meant every motion because of it. This performance, for truly it was a feat of showmanship meant for my viewing pleasure first and her orgasm second, meant something to her.

Her fingers dipped into her pussy easily, as it was still wet from her previous attempt. Kimmie went slow at first, but gradually resumed a pace that looked calculated and familiar. Before long her chest rose and fell rhythmically, her hips rolled on the chair while her breasts heaved. Goosebumps crawled across her skin when she opened her eyes and saw me looking at her. I remained focused on her movements all through her masturbation, taking every ounce of effort I possessed to know where I was and what was happening.

I could sense the urge to fade into a state of unconscious action. It was a sensation of light-headedness coupled with euphoria, easy to confuse with a simple mental stimulation like that of watching a particularly good movie or hearing new, exciting music. Lost in the attention of something else, my conditioning could effortlessly take over and fulfill its purpose. But now, I only watched.

"I feel so sexy," Kimmie sighed. "Do you like watching?"

"I do. I like it very much."

"Oh god... I must seem like such a slut."

"You do," I told her, leaning forward and gazing into her eyes.

She looked at me, but did not slow her pace. She was surprised. "What?"

"I said you do look like a slut. I'm a stranger to you," her pace quickened. "I came here uninvited." Her brow furrowed, desperate for release. "I told you who I am, what I did, and you wanted to feel what I felt." She slid a third finger into her sopping, dripping, quivering pussy. "You're naked, fucking yourself for me, and you've never felt sexier. You don't just look like a slut," I said. "You are a slut."

Kimmie burst, came all over her chair, and fell to the floor. My conditioning screamed at me, begging to mount her face and ride to eternity. But I ignored it, stood over her, and giggled as she came down from the indescribable high of a true whore's orgasm. "I'll stop by tomorrow," I said. "And teach you how to be a real sorority girl."

She shivered, and I left.

**********

If she had followed me, Kimmie might not have been so engrossed in my confidence. I had promised myself one woman to use for exploration, but of course keeping to that would not be so easy. I found myself walking toward the dorms like a zombie, aimless if I were to answer a passerby, but truly I knew my intent.

After I knocked on the door, I unbuttoned my shirt all the way, exposing my bra and turning my dial up another notch. Harry answered the door, and although his eyes were instantly drawn to my chest, he quickly met my eyes. "Here to finish Rain Man?"

"Here to apologize," I said, and pushed him into the room. He started to say something, probably in protest, but I was taking his pants off before his mouth could understand what his brain meant to say. "I didn't mean to run out. I usually finish what I start."

Again I stopped him from speaking, this time by wrapping my lips around his growing erection. I always loved my way of sucking cock, constantly putting my tongue to work no matter how deep in my mouth the guy was. As soon as my mouth touched him, I was salivating. By the time he was hard, none of his length was dry.

I stayed focused on the task at hand, thinking to myself that as long as I knew what I was doing, it would never defeat me. I could remain conscious of all my actions and stop when the line approached. So I let Harry's cock pass my tongue and dip into my throat, and I was happy. I felt the same joy as I did at Delta Gamma, but now I knew it was my decision, under my control. That made him taste all the sweeter. It made every pulse of his heartbeat emanate out of his cock and into my mouth. My lips tingled and my skin flushed all over.

"Jesus, fuck," he moaned. "Where did you learn that?"

I thought of saying I invented it myself, but I was having too much fun to take him out of my mouth even for a moment. As I bobbed up and down, drops of precum spread across my tongue and made me shiver. I'd almost forgotten just how much I loved the taste. My hand held his shaft still while my tongue circled the head, letting me drink every single drop that came from him.

Desperation began to seep into my thoughts, begging me to drop my hand into my jeans and attack my clit. I could feel a force pull it down toward my hip, but resisted the irresistible. I took a moment to think, deciding ultimately that I could fuck myself all I wanted so long as I never lost focus. So slowly, carefully, the zipper went down and my clit met its partner once again.

As my moaning vibrated into his cock, his legs tightened and shook. I was out of practice and started to lose pace with my mouth, but the moaning seemed to make up for it. His hands grasped his bedsheets so hard they could have ripped, and his scrotum started to tighten. The way he grunted and moaned escalated to a sound of futile resistance. His orgasm was coming.

Suddenly I was dripping with cum. I tried to swallow each spurt as it came, but it overwhelmed me shortly after my first swallow. It began to overflow from my mouth, sliding down my chin and falling onto my breasts. Again and again, my mouth filled and my chest got messier. By the time it finally ended, my bra was soaked with spit and semen. "Thank you," I said. He fell backwards onto his bed and tried to catch his breath. I left without buttoning up my shirt and walked the whole way home covered in his cum, scooping a bit on my finger and licking it before it dried.

By the time I got home, I was so wet and excited that it only took a minute of light masturbation to cum. My body shook so hard I ended up hitting my head against the wall twice, and every muscle in my body was sore from convulsing so hard. I may have failed to keep to my promise of monogamy, but I succeeded at conscious purpose all the way through. Now I was a slut by choice.

**********

The next day I returned to Kimmie's house and she made me lunch. Her sorority sisters were either hungover or out to study while hungover, so again the house was quiet, though occupied. I playfully smacked her ass just to watch it jiggle, and let her tell me all about the life of a lesbian from Orange County. By the time I finished scraping the cheese off my plate, it felt like we'd known each other for years, though I told her nothing of my high school days or of Helena.

She was brave enough to steal a few kisses, all of which were brief and sweet. I was proud of myself for remaining composed, even avoiding arousal. I felt normal now, like I could function and tease and flirt without feeling the need for intense, passionate sex. Quicker than I anticipated, I was recovering.

"...he's a great professor, and he has so many connections," Kimmie was saying, washing dishes with her rear stuck out ever so slightly. "But that's the problem. How am I going to get a word in for a grant or a dissertation if he keeps acting this way?"

"What's his name again?"

"Professor Freeder," Kimmie sighed and turned to face me. "Doctor Jonathan Freeder."

"So he tries to fuck all his students in exchange for favors?"

"Just the girls," she sat on my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. "I can't remember if today was the fifth or sixth time he mentioned a recommendation while he was staring at my tits."

"Guys like that," I said, sliding my hand up her torso until it rest full on her breast. "Have a lot of secrets they're terrible at keeping."

"He's got tenure," she said, drawing my other hand up to hold her. "He can't get fired until he commits a crime."

"Sexual harassment is a crime," I said.

"A little hard to prove."

"You never know."

The second hand did not stay on her breast, but rose all the way to her neck. She giggled and tilted her head back, making the skin on her neck taut and exposed. I squeezed lightly, and she giggled again. Then, with my lips so close she could feel my breath on her skin, I said, "I'll see you tonight."

"Where are you going?" she asked, sad to see me go before the heat turned up.

"I have one more class," I told her, lifting her from my lap and grabbing her ass like it was my property. "Then I'll be back. And I want you to pick a sorority sister to be our guinea pig for the night."

"Done," she said, biting her lip and twisting her ankle like the giddy slut she was.

**********

Dr. Jonathan Freeder was head of the psychology department, the final line between a degree and renown. His office, I was quick to discover, looked out over the baseball field at the back end of the campus, away from all the roads. The only way one could really see into his window was with binoculars, standing at the edge of the field. Crazy bitch that I am, I happened to have just that, and want to do just so.

Instantly I understood why he got away with what he did. Most people in his academic standing were at least fifty, most of them balding, decrepit, stressed from unbelievable hours spent poring over notebook after notebook, trying to get that perfect combination of words for their life's work to stand out. Not Dr. Freeder.

He looked like your average clean cut Wall Street pig, dressed well but made comfortable by a slightly loosened tie, sleeves rolled up, and a bluetooth earpiece on his head, though he did not look to be in a phone call. What set him aside was a nicer haircut, not greasy with product but soft and quite naturally gleaming a slowly fading umber. His only wrinkles were the crow's feet at his eyes and the laugh lines around his mouth.

I thought he was alone until I saw his hand reach down to his crotch, just under the line of the windowsill where I couldn't see. But the motion was familiar, the angle expected. I couldn't read an ounce of pleasure on his face. But still I knew someone kneeled under that desk, pleasuring him to no apparent avail. He looked across the room and said something, holding up a notebook. What he said took some time, but finally a young man walked from across the room and took the notebook from his hands.

I didn't recognize him, but he was definitely a student. He looked disappointed, like he had been denied pride or a grand victory against his teacher. When the student turned to exit the room, Freeder motioned for him to stay. He stood up, his cock erect and fully exposed, sticking out from pleated pants, holding a young woman by the hair as he helped her out from under the desk.

The student, almost expectant, undid his pants and pulled out an unimpressive member. The young woman - whose face was obscured by a mess of long brown hair, was completely naked. Freeder positioned her atop his desk, spreading her legs and letting her head dangle off one end. The student approached and immediately began to fuck her while Freeder re-entered her mouth.

I never saw her face that night, but seeing her spit-roasted by men of power told me she was not happy. There was something else afoot, drawing her into this position and chaining her there with a false promise. To this girl, these men were her Helena. I just had a sense of it. So I decided, sitting there on the field, to undo him.

It wouldn't be difficult to lure him into a trap. But it might be difficult to escape his trap.

To Be Continued...