Where The Women Are Ch. 03

I woke up to the sight of Pilar trying to sneak out of my room with my basket of sex toys.

"Hold it!"

She froze, then turned around with a grin. "Oh, you're awake," she crooned.

I took a long moment to stretch and wriggled my ass against the sleeping Drew. "Where are you going with my toys?" I asked her.

Pilar set the basket on my desk and then sat in the chair nearby. She crossed those muscled dancer's legs and smiled for me. "Well, darling, you see, I need to borrow them."

Internally, I groaned. When Pilar says 'darling' and turns on the charm, she wants something. And she usually gets it.

I looked at the basket, my eyebrows raised. A vintage picnic basket from the late 40's, Grandmother shipped it to me as a care package. Only when it arrived it was full of things to put in my mouth, not...other orifices. It was large enough to hold about two dozen toys, excluding my Magic Wand, which was almost always tucked into the corner of my bed.

"Take the ones you want, Pilar. And grab some condoms," I reminded her. I don't mind lending my toys out for trial runs, but I'm finicky about hygiene.

Pilar used both hands to tuck her dark, chin-length hair behind her ears. Pretty little ears, with diamond studs in them. She leaned forward with an earnest expression.

"Kay, luv, I need all of them," she said.

"What!" I exclaimed.

Drew groaned.

"Give her the damned toys and give me some rest," he grumbled and rolled over.

I swatted at him and slipped out of bed. Pilar looked me over and smiled.

"Bruises," she sang.

'Ah, hell,' I thought, and looked down. Fingerprints and teeth-marks on hips and breasts, some bruising on my wrists. Evidence of a wild night. I blushed. Definitely long-sleeves for a few days.

"Why do you need all of them?" I asked her in a whisper.

She took a step up to me and slipped her arms around my neck. Her fingers caressed my cheek, played with my hair, making my skin pebble. She brought her mouth up to my ear. "For the masturbation workshop," she whispered back.

"I thought it was a 'bring your own toy' thing?" I asked her.

She stamped a foot on the hardwood floor. "Kay, you have no idea how many women do not know how to masturbate, never mind own their own toys!"

I figured she had a point there. Hmm. If most women were comfortable touching themselves, Pilar's intimate little workshops wouldn't be in demand. I kissed her.

"Mmmm," she sighed, and said, "You smell like your own juices."

I had a flashback to the previous evening, to the memory of Drew bringing me to orgasm with his mouth, and the delicious kisses that followed. My nipples tightened and I felt that rush of warmth between my hips. I nuzzled her neck.

"When does the workshop start?" I asked, sliding my hands down her back.

"Oh...in about 20 minutes." She grinned cheekily at me, knowing what I had on my mind. "Let me borrow the pic-a-nic basket, Yogi, and you can use the toys on me later."

"Ok, BooBoo." I squeezed her bottom and kissed her cheek. "Good luck with the workshop. Keep 'em coming."

She groaned at the bad pun, collected the basket from where she had placed it on my desk, and danced through the door connecting our rooms. Leaving me alone with Drew. Poor Drew. So much for getting some rest.

I slipped into the bathroom to freshen-up a bit and assess damages. After brushing my teeth and washing my face I took careful stock of the condition of my body. Drew and I had not seen each other in two weeks and the lovebites and bruises were proof of the urgency of our lovemaking. My fingers confirmed that my clit and bottom were tender, but that my vagina was remarkably resilient, as there was no residual discomfort there at all...just residual fluids and the scent of sex. A quick sponge-bath had me feeling fresh and frisky, and I knew just the person to share it with.

I sat on the edge of my bed and reached a hand out toward Drew, caressing his shoulders. Such nice, broad swimmer's shoulders, with a butterflier's lats. Mmmm. I pushed the sheet farther down his back, my fingers tracing the scratches on his smooth skin, remembering the moments of extreme pleasure that provoked me to mark him so. Farther down, I found the half-moon shapes on his waist and ass, and a couple of faint wheals, as well. I ran my hand down over his flank and back up again, my fingers brushing between his thighs and the cheeks of his ass, teasing the fine, downy hair there.

He sighed and moaned a bit, shifting position so that he lay forward more, his knee bending so that his legs were farther apart. I smiled at the invitation and ran my hand over his thigh again. At the back of his knee I circled my fingers and started along the inner thigh, touching more firmly so as not to tickle him too much. I grazed his balls with my fingernails, pulled gently at the hair growing there. He moaned again and raised his ass up a bit. I sent my hand down, slipping it along the stiffness there, giving him a firm squeeze.

My hands on him were getting me excited. I loved his body, how responsive he was to my touch, and his feral sensuality, keen as my own. I pushed the sheets all the way to the foot of the bed and lay down between his legs. My hands returned to cup his balls, holding them up to my mouth so I could tongue them, suck them, breathe on them, watching the skin crinkle and crawl. I sought and found that little, round, hairless spot there, teasing it with my tongue, making him bounce and moan.

I ran my tongue up between his buttocks, parting them slowly, firmly with my hands. He moaned in earnest then, Drew did, when I put my mouth on his ass, running my tongue across the dark spot in the center. Salty, musky, slightly sour. He lurched a little and his cheeks flexed under my hands, but I persisted until he was pushing back toward me and he had relaxed enough for my tongue to delve into the opening there.

"Turn over," I instructed, and he did so, with alacrity.

He plumped up some pillows and shoved them behind his head so he could see what was coming. He loved to watch me fellate him, not only because he liked to see his dick slide in and out of my mouth, which he said was always fun to see, but because he liked to watch me. Because I enjoy it so much.

I knelt between his legs and leaned forward on my elbows. As I reached for him, I met his eyes and smiled a slow, sensual smile. I held that eye contact as I rubbed the tip of his sex against my bottom lip. He was hard enough that the foreskin was partially retracted, forming a reservoir for his precome. I smeared it across my lip and tasted it with my tongue. Mmmmm. With my right hand I clasped the base of his cock and slid it upward toward the head, tugging the foreskin forward. I dipped my tongue inside the folds of skin, sliding it around the tip, making him flinch and whimper. I opened my mouth and followed my hand's slow, firm slide down the shaft of his cock, tickling the knob on the underside of the head with my tongue. He smelled and tasted wonderful. His skin was soft and smooth under my hands and mouth, a sensual delight, and I reveled in the way it felt, drawing out our arousal for as long as I could. Eventually, though, my hunger for him grew, and I wanted the taste of his come on my tongue. The slow sliding of my mouth and my hand over his sex became more urgent, more demanding. His legs tensed and the muscles in them shifted, his head tilted back and he began to sigh and pant.

I moved the fingers of my left hand between my legs and dipped them into my pussy. When I withdrew them, they were covered in my slippery juices. I ran my slick fingers along the cleft of his buttocks, teasing the little hole there. I circled it with a finger tip, pressing and releasing with care. The steady rhythm of my mouth and fingers soon relaxed him enough for me to slip a finger inside him to my second knuckle. Drew's answering moan was music to my ears and my body responded with another wave of moisture between my thighs. Keeping my mouth on him, I moved my right hand to my pussy and began teasing my clit.

At this point Drew looked down his body at me and raised his hands to my head. He slipped his fingers under my hair and took control of the rhythm of my mouth, thrusting slowly in and out. I slipped my finger a little further into his anus and then back out, trying to match the rhythm of his hips as he forced himself deeper into my mouth. Meanwhile, my other hand was busy between my legs, sliding between the folds of my labia, back and forth between my clitoris and hole.

Languid moans filled my bedroom as we both pursued our passion in an almost leisurely fashion, savoring the slow burn of arousal before the orgasms we knew were coming quenched it. I relaxed my neck and mouth as much as I could, enjoying the slide of him between my lips, the scent, the taste, the feel of his balls bouncing against my hand. My tongue teased the underside of his cock; I scraped my teeth lightly against the knob there, echoing the moan it elicited with one of my own. My fingers busily tapped away at my clit, nudging me closer to orgasm. I slipped a second finger into his ass, working it slowly into him. When he began writhing a bit I started sucking harder on him, and in response his fingers tightened on my head. He began thrusting upward with this hips, short, shallow strokes, enjoying the suction. I made my fingers in his ass mimic the rhythm of his hips, pushing in and out with short jabs. After perhaps a minute of this his balls pulled up against his body and I knew he was close to coming. I moaned and redoubled my efforts with my fingers, stimulating my clit and his ass in the same urgent rhythm.

Suddenly, Drew pulsed in my mouth, and his hands pulled my head down farther so that he was practically grinding into my face. I swallowed a few times and struggled backwards against his hands, needing to breathe. He relaxed the pressure and I slid back a bit, sucking air in through my nostrils. I kept tonguing him and moving my fingers inside him, and as I ran my tongue across the tip of his sex he convulsed. I went still, instinctively knowing that additional stimulation would be so excruciating that it would only dim the intensity of his orgasm, and I focused on bringing myself to that place. I closed my eyes and savored the feel of him in my mouth, the taste of his come on my tongue, and the slide of my fingers on my clit. My mind cast back to the previous night, to lying blindfolded and naked on my bed, brought to orgasm again and again by his near-feral lovemaking. As I remembered the intensity of those moments I reached my climax. With a final suck I dragged my mouth off his sex and leaned my head against his thigh, sighing and trembling through my own pleasure.

Afterwards, I crawled up beside him and pulled the sheet over us, and we napped. Perhaps an hour or two later there was a rap on the connecting door between mine and Pilar's rooms. I heard her voice asking, "Are you decent?" and in response to my mumbled, "Not really," she opened the door and sailed into the room holding the hand of another woman.

"Pilar!" I grumped at her.

"Sorry, Kay darling, but I have someone you really must meet." She pointed at the girl next to her. "This is Hope."

I looked at the girl. She seemed vaguely familiar, but I could not place her. Light brown hair, pale blue eyes, skinny build, all elbows and knees. I looked back at Pilar, my eyebrows raised, and said, "Hello Hope."

Pilar was brimming with energy. She looked like she was bursting to say something. I wasn't going to ask, I knew she would tell me when she was ready.

"Hope was at my workshop," she began, and I knew she was excited, because she was slipping into her native British accent. You can rename British Honduras to Belize, but you can't take the 'British' out of their spoken English. Or atleast, not hers.

"Umm-hmmm," I responded and nodded. "How did it go?"

I noticed that she had not brought the pinic basket in with her. "And where are my toys?"

"The workshop went fine. They're in my room, luv. I'm going to make sure they are in good order before I return them."

I looked at Hope again. Damn, she looked familiar, but at the same time, I knew I did not know her. She met my eyes and looked away, blushing. I wondered if it was because I was still snugged up against Drew, my leg thrown over one of his, and my hand resting on his ass. The sheet, even if it was 1000 thread-count, really was too thin to conceal much.

"Hope told an interesting story during the masturbation workshop, darling. I think you will be very interested to hear it." She turned and looked at Hope, who blushed even more furiously. "Go on, tell her."

"Pilar," I growled warningly. "Do you you really think this is an appropriate time for story-telling?"

She made a face at me. "Do please listen, Kay. You know that problem you've been having with Sophia and Erin? Well," she said, drawing the word out, "Hope here is the source of the rumours."

"What?" I looked at the mousey girl again, feeling shocked. And as soon as I looked at her, I knew. The last time I has seen her, she was in a swim suit.

"Swim Girl!" I exclaimed, and lunged out of the bed. "You!"

She flinched as I approached her, but she stared, as well. Even licked her lips. I could feel her eyes on my breasts.

"I guess she's seen you naked, too, so there is no need to put on a robe or anything," Pilar said wryly.

"Fuck!" I marched over the to the closet and yanked open the door, then grabbed my robe off its hook. I slipped the chenille over my skin and immediately felt better. Such soft and sensual material.

Drew stirred and grumbled. "Kay, I'm exhausted, I need to sleep!"

"Fine," I responded. "Lets take your guest back to your room, Pilar."

Pilar took Hope by the shoulders and steered the girl into her room, putting herself between us. Which is just as well, because I was sorely tempted to throttle her. I could feel the adrenaline surging through me. I'd been through hell the past month with Erin and Sophia. We had all three of us been appalled by the rumours flying around. They'd accused me of spreading the story of what happened between us in the showers. I told them it wasn't me, that I would never be that indiscreet. I had told them about Swim Girl but they thought I was making her up. And since I'd never seen her before I had no idea how to track her down, other than haunting the pool area, which I had done for a couple of weeks.

For me, anger is a hot flash that passes as soon as it rises. Most of the time. If I stay angry, I grow cold, dispassionate, and intense. It rolls off of me in tangible waves, and it makes people very uncomfortable. Like Hope. She was sitting on the edge of Pilar's bed, her hands in her lap, her fingers weaving knots with each other.

"Why are you here?" I asked her, my voice cold and unfriendly.

"Pilar..." she stopped, then started again. "Pilar said she knew someone who wanted to meet me."

"Clever Pilar," I said and flicked her a glance. "Call Erin and Sophia, tell them to get over here," I instructed. She went to her desk and pulled out the campus directory, then picked up the phone. The first number she tried rang to voice mail. The second, she got through to someone. I listened with half an ear while watching Hope, who had gone quite pale.

"They will be here in 10 minutes," Pilar said.

I nodded and leaned back in the chair to wait. I uncrossed my legs and re-crossed them the other way, leaving them exposed. I noticed that Hope's eyes rested where the robe was parted highest on my thigh. 'Gay, or curious,' I thought to myself. 'Which might explain her enthusiasm about what she witnessed.' I continued watching the girl, my eyes steady on her slight form. I was angry with her, because she was either intentionally malicious or completely naive about what her stories had done. I knew she wasn't stupid--she wouldn't have been admitted to our college if she was.

Pilar tried to chitchat with the girl, but she simply sat there, perched on the edge of the bed, transfixed by my stare.

"Kay, darling, won't you say something? You're making us both nervous."

"I'm pissed-off, so the less said the better," I looked at Pilar. She opened her mouth to say something. I shook my head at her. "Don't push me," I warned.

She shivered and nodded, remembering. The only time she pushed me after I'd warned her not to, I cut her off. She ceased to exist as a person to me. She was just another someone I went to school with. It took a long time to build trust and respect again. But Pilar is nothing if not persistent. As am I.

The three of us sat in silence until Pilar's phone rang. She answered it, saying she would be right down. Security is important at women's colleges, and guests must be escorted upstairs to our rooms.

"Is it safe to leave the two of you alone?" she asked me.

"I won't touch her. In fact, I'll move over here," I said, and moved to stand against a wall near where the door opened, a spot that would conceal me from the view of anyone entering the room.

Pilar left, and when she did, Hope and I watched each other warily. I'd taken up my position by the door partly to keep her from escaping. After a couple of minutes I reached a hand down into my robe and rubbed a spot on my breast that ached a little. I parted the robe so I could get a look at the sore place. A lovebite marked the spot. I smiled reminiscently and looked up at Hope through my lashes. Sure enough, her eyes were fastened on my breast and her mouth was open just a little. I traced my fingers over the livid markings. "Drew got a little carried away last night," I remarked.

Her eyes flicked up to my face and she blushed. She shifted on the bed, bringing her knees together, and smoothing her gray skirt down over her thighs.

She was saved from needing to respond by the door swinging open. Pilar was still chattering as Erin and Sophia followed her into the room. They stopped, both of them looking at Hope.

Pilar closed the door and I stepped into view. Sophia muttered someting vile under her breath and took a lunging step toward me and I shifted my feet, taking up a stance that would allow me to respond appropriately to just about any move she could make. I smiled calmly at her.

"Sophia stop!" Pilar exclaimed at the same moment Erin asked, "What is going on?"

I could feel the hostility rolling off of Sophia, and I did not take my eyes off her. We were both from California, and I'd had my fair share of fights with Chicanas. I knew I could handle her, but I also knew that she would jump my ass if I let my guard down, and I did not want to take any damage from those vicious fingernailis of hers.

I raised a hand and pointed at Hope, whom I could see out of the corner of my right eye. "Swim Girl," I said, simply.

Three pairs of eyes turned to stare at Hope. I kept mine on Sophia.

"Tell them, Pilar." I instructed.

Pilar told them about her masturbation workshop and how Hope had begun regaling everyone with the story about what she had seen in the showers that day. When I was certain that Sophia was no longer intent on doing me harm, I focussed on Hope. Her head was down, and her bobbed hair half-covered her face. Her long fingers played nervously with the hem of her skirt.

Sophia and Erin were both livid. Erin's pale skin was flushed bright red, clashing with her hair. Sophia's black eyes were large and flashing, and she was muttering under her breath in Spanish. Both of them looked ready to lay hands on Hope. Not a good sign.

I went to the girl, going down on one knee before her with my hands over hers. I was still a bit angy, but mostly, I wanted to get across to her the serious wrong she had committed. I forced her to meet my eyes and I told her what her gossip-mongering had done, how it had made something beautiful and special into a spectacle to be tittered over. How it had created no end of embarassment and even enmity between myself and the other two women, because they had blamed me as the source of the rumours and refused to believe my claim that a girl in a swimsuit had been watching in the doorway. How it was bad enough that my sex life was public knowledge, but to be called a liar on top of it and hated by two women I admired was the worst part of all.