Rick and Molly

This story takes place in the late 1980s. At least half of it is true. The rest...work it out for yourselves!

"Bloody hell," Rick thought as he pulled into the college parking lot. "Two years...and each day Abby and I grow further and further apart! I know she and Trish are more than 'friends,' no matter how they deny it! This is getting ridiculous. Now Abby's got me having to leave or hide in the damn bedroom when Trish comes over!"

Stopping the car, he reflected. Trish had never liked him, not since Day One of his relationship with Abby; she'd always accused him of "trying to come between her and Abby's friendship." That was never his intention. What was Trish on about anyway? So damn possessive it was unreal...he'd clashed with Trish over it...told her how childish it was (not to mention wrong)...and all it'd done was cause problems with he and Abby over their somewhat-over-a-year-long relationship. And Abby had a no-sex rule that was driving him mad with desire. Abby was an attractive woman, and at 23 still a virgin (though, he thought, that's not unusual). They'd slept together in the same bed, and they'd "progressed" to him being "privileged" to physical topless contact. However, they'd never seen one another fully naked, and Abby still made him avert his eyes away from even seeing her in her underwear. He'd left her apartment with a raging hard-on and blue balls more than once.

He had a raging hard-on now, though not, as it happened, over Abby.

Rick was from Canada. He'd ended up in Indiana after his father, a Royal Canadian Air Force fighter pilot, had been killed in a training accident. His two sisters in Ontario had been unwilling to take him in, so he ended up living with his American mother and stepfather in Indiana. He simply didn't like his mother and saw why his father had divorced her, though his stepfather was decent enough and had turned the upper storey of their house into a small flat for him.

He was able to live well enough off the death benefits of his father (depending on the Canadian/American exchange rate). At a loose end, he'd enrolled in a community college, hoping to learn a trade that he could use to earn a decent living and return to Canada, maybe even following in his father's footsteps and joining the RCAF.

He'd made few close friends, though he'd found the people at college decent enough. By nature he was reserved anyway. He'd met Abby in a local mall and they'd hit it off; especially having come through similar family trauma and self-esteem issues. She was pretty, though she didn't think so. Rick had desired her sexually from Day One, only to have her throw up all these roadblocks he couldn't make sense of..."if you do this I'll leave you"..."if you touch me there I'll leave you"..."if you ask me to do that I'll leave you."

Then had come Trish. Trish, it seemed, was bent on disliking Rick, no matter how many ways he bent over backwards to try to be nice to her. Trish was "trapped" in a loveless marriage, and seemed to lavish more and more attention on Abby...which had caused Rick to wonder from time to time about just what the nature of their relationship really was. Especially after the time Abby had unaccountably made him HIDE in her bedroom when Trish made an "emergency visit." Through the bedroom door, and in the darkness, he'd heard them say to each other softly, "you know that I really love you and I always will."

Rick had begun to wonder: was his girlfriend secretly a lesbian? When he'd finally mustered the courage to bring the topic up with Abby, she'd got furious with him and said, "you will never understand the nature of mine and Trish's relationship, and I don't have to explain it to you." As well, Abby had got involved with some radical feminist groups on the campus of her university, and had made increasingly anti-male statements, which further fuelled Rick's doubt.

Then had come Molly. A cute, petite girl from one of the nearby small towns, she'd shown up in one of Rick's classes at the start of a semester. They'd hit it off immediately. They had the same kind of dry sense of humour (Rick was even surprised at an American understanding his Canadian sense of humour, as most Americans didn't). Molly was bubbly, a counterpoint to Rick's almost-British reserve. And she listened. She let him talk and open up gradually to her, and then she gradually to him.

Finally, it certainly didn't hurt that she was quite a looker. She had shoulder-length blonde ringlets and deep blue eyes. Though not huge, her breasts were the classically "perky" type. She was mostly a tee-shirt-and-jeans (and when she wore jeans, they hugged every curve of her shapely arse and Rick swore to himself he could see a pronounced cameltoe in front) girl, but on the occasions she took to dressing up, she could rock secretarial-type clothing enough to give Rick fantasies about bending her over a desk and...

Hence the source of his hard-on. Molly jolted him out of his musings on Abby by knocking on the window of his dusty old Ford. "Hey Rick! Are you coming to class or do I have to drag you out of that piece of shit you call a car?" Though it was early spring, Molly wore only a light denim jacket with a thin blue shirt underneath that barely concealed a white, lacy bra that only made her breasts even perkier. And she was wearing those tight, faded jeans with no pockets in the back again!

Rick had misgivings, of course. He'd never been unfaithful to a girlfriend, and he wasn't about to start. But the feelings of lust and longing he had developed for Molly sometimes drove him insane with desire.

He shook himself back to reality. Pulling on his father's old flying jacket, he got out of the car. Molly hugged him (why does she have to do that?). "Molly, you know, keep doing that and people are going to talk," he said as he fell into line alongside her as they walked into the building. She laughed flippantly. "Oh, the hell with people talking. I could care less what they say about me!"

And, as they took their seats in class, Rick reflected upon this. People were talking. He'd been asked more than once if he and Molly were seeing each other and each time he (with increasing reluctance) had to debunk the rumour and confirm that he and Molly were indeed, only "friends."

"Only friends," he thought, ignoring the droning of the professor. It was hard to focus on the less-than-exciting subject of computer programming with this unattainably desirable young girl sitting across the aisle from him. What was worse, he could smell her perfume. Abby never wore perfume.

He had to scoot around the uncomfortable chair to keep his hard-on from becoming painful.

Later that night...

Rick stomped up the stairs into his apartment, took his father's jacket off and threw it across the room. Realising what he had done, he picked up the jacket, while looking at the Canadian Flag he kept affixed to one wall, mumbled a soft "sorry, Dad" and gently draped the jacket across his living room chair.

He went to the fridge, took out a Labatt's 50 ("ahh...the taste of home") and cracked it. Drinking deeply, he reflected on the "night" he'd had with Abby. She'd sent him away with blue balls again, and he'd had to endure another one of her "enlightened" opinions on her "discoveries" about the male gender. This time she'd discoursed gleefully on how heterosexual sex was nothing but legalised rape in favour of the man! What's more, she'd asked Rick, "Don't you agree?"

Rick finished his beer, put some Black Sabbath in his cassette player and put on his headphones. Even though Ronnie James Dio was growling as only he could about "listening to fools," Rick could not get the image of Molly out of his head. That hair, those eyes, that body...

Turning off the music, Rick went into his bathroom and stripped. His cock was fully engorged. Sighing, he reached for the pack of condoms he kept in the medicine chest (which made him think of Molly's chest!). He'd got them when he first met Abby, but after he realised they were going to be of no use with her no-sex rule, he kept them for times like this. Such a waste, he thought, but it beats sleeping on wet sheets. Lying down in the darkness, he unrolled the condom down the full length of his shaft. Closing his eyes, he let the images of Molly come into his mind, and his hand closed tightly around his member. Moving his hands up and down, slowly then faster, he imagined Molly lowering herself onto him and enclosing him in her wetness. "Faster...Deeper!" he heard her say in his mind. Gasping, he forced himself to be silent as he felt his balls tightening, even though he wanted to scream "MOLLY!" at the top of his lungs. Finally, his head spun as he exploded into the condom. It seemed like the condom would burst, so fierce was his release, but it did not.

Several minutes later, as he caught his breath again, he walked back into his bathroom, took the filled condom off and flushed it. Cleaning his now-flaccid cock off with a warm, wet washcloth (he almost grew erect again wondering if Molly were this warm and wet!), he turned the lights off and went to bed.