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Sophie's Choice

By: dandyleglogs



Most of the room is in shadow. In its centre, an aged wrought iron bed stands alone on the bare floor boards. Outside, the stifling heat of mid-afternoon, the sounds of traffic, of irate and overheated passers-by, the blinding brightness and the dust are all filtered from the room by a thin muslin curtain that falls from ceiling to floor, blowing into the room every now and then on the meagre summer breeze. Aside from the lace choker around her neck, she is unclothed, kneeling upright on the mattress facing the head. 

She grips the heavy metal top rail of the bedstead with outstretched arms, the diffused light coming from the window highlighting a sheen of perspiration that coats the length of her back and the tautly clenched muscles of her thighs. She sweats from the stifling heat as well as from the intense and delicate balance of her body. The focus of her concentration is directly below the curve of her belly. The soft light picks up her changing muscle tone as she cautiously lowers and raises her lower body in rhythm to some distant music or slow beat. Beneath her, stretched out the entire length of the bed, lying face upwards, is a sturdily built male. Muscled arms either side of his head stretch up between the bed rails, to which his wrists are bound with ropes.

Her knees are spread awkwardly, placed either side of his biceps as she dictates the pace of her pleasure, ass undulating snakelike. She stares down at him with a vacant expression, without recognition, lost in a reverie. Releasing her grip on the rail with one hand, she places it on his soaking brow. Her fingers clutch at his dripping hair and this way she pulls his head up between her damp thighs. 

Her hand moves down over his face, fingers trailing over the junction between their bodies that is his tongue, which slips pornographically in and out between the fleshy lips of her cunt. Manicured and immaculately painted nails on an elegant hand tease and pinch at her clit. The pads of her fingers pressing in a v shape either side of the swollen bud, while the middle finger, its nail occasionally flicking over the flesh, completes little circles, fast and slow, softly then more forcefully as she rides the wave of her climax. She opens her mouth slightly and from her throat comes a voiceless sound, accompanied by a flow of clear musky smelling liquid from between her legs. 

Keeping one hand gripping the rail, she reaches the other back behind herself. Her hand slides over across his sweat drenched abdomen and clutches the base of his shaft. Silver painted nails scratch the length of the long penis as it bears her weight, fingers spreading over his swollen ball sac, then encircling him and pulling back up the entire length of his shaft. His face, smeared in a messy combination of sweat and her excretions carries an expression alternating between ecstasy and pain. As her nails rasp the delicate under side of his cock head she bends her head down next to his and whispers something to his ear, she does not kiss him. She continues to run her nails round and around, teasing and hurting him, but he makes no sound. Light suddenly pours into the room as the curtains billow on a gust, and from a passing coach, travellers catch a sudden glimpse of the lurid scene inside the room. A momentary flash to keep them occupied for the rest of a mundane journey on the dusty road to wherever. Ignoring this intimate exposure completely, she senses the male beneath her is close to ejaculating and, turning her head, her eyes search the shadows of the dim room.

Another man stands watching them, awaiting her signal. Her eyes flash inquisitively as she lifts her head to him. This man, who wears a sarong tied around his waist but is otherwise naked, reaches into the darkness and opens the door of a small refrigerator behind him. By the light of the frail bulb he searches the icebox and from it retrieves a small silver bowl. Closing the door, he carries the bowl over to the bed and standing close, offers the plate to her. She releases her grip on the cock and, ignoring the offering, reaches up to him.

Silver nails gleam brightly against the blacks' skin as she presses a hand against his chest. She draws her fingers lightly down over his torso to the top of the sarong knotted at his waist and stops there a moment. Leaving it fastened, her index finger trails downwards and teases the growing flesh beneath the thin material. A slight smile passes momentarily on her lips as the man beneath her continues, with mouth and tongue, his ministrations at her pussy. The other stands, regarding them emotionlessly. She reaches up again and picks something from the saucer he still holds before her. 

In her hand appear a cluster of balls, an inch in diameter, made from ice, which are joined together in a tight loop by an elastic cord running through the centre of each sphere, a bracelet. Reaching back, she places it over the head of the cock of the man beneath her. He gasps as the frozen bracelet contracts and grips below the ridge of the glans. She leaves it there for a moment, measuring the look on his face, then slowly works it down the length of his cock until it stretches tightly over the stem. Ice cold droplets begin to run down over his scrotum. Raising herself from his face, she moves back and positions his cock at the opening of her sex, feeding it completely into her pussy, until the ice ring brushes against her clitoris. For the first time, a groan escapes her lips as she begins to fuck the rigid cock. 

By movement, she measures the distance of the hot shaft and, lingering for a moment, fully impaled, she feels the cold shock of the ice hitting the lips of her sex . Beneath her, the male groans with a mixture of pain and pleasure. The freezing tightness of the snare constricting his cock keeps him from orgasm, preventing him from releasing himself into her. She comes once more like this, with her hands over the face of her lover, cunt stretched and plugged by the thick length. The shock of the ice meeting her clit sends her into ecstasy.

For several minutes after her climax she remains seated on the man, savouring the endorphin rush which travels down her spine to where his thick prick, still lodged in her vagina softens. The ice melts away, cooling the combined heat of their ardour.. The power of her complete satisfaction compared to his unfulfilled state of arousal excites and pleases her.

Once again, she looks over and nods to the man in waiting and again he reaches a hand into the refrigerator, reappearing holding a small bottle. She watches as his sturdy fingers twist the cork out with a small pop. She smiles and climbs from the bed to stand before the open window. The black man approaches her from behind, taking in her naked body. On the small silver tray he carries, a glass of the champagne, which he passes to her. On the other hand is a circular mirror, held flat. On it are two lines of fine white powder and a slender platinum cylinder. 

Bending over slightly, breasts silhouetted in the soft light, and with the slight breeze cooling the sweat from her body, she inhales the cocaine. The man retreats, returning shortly with a large porcelain bowl. He dips a flannel he carries into the bowl of water and wipes the sweat from her body. She raises first one arm then the other above her head as she is washed from head to toe. Working his way up from her feet she opens her legs to allow him access to her sex. She turns and the wet cloth passes between the firm cheeks of her ass. She shudders slightly as the breeze touches and cools her. Her nipples become hard and as his hand passes over them she stares downward, fixated by the contrast of textures and colours of their respective skins. Her posture alters slightly, breasts raised in offering and he bends double to place the bowl on the bare floor, He straightens himself and faces her.

She draws a breath as she takes in his size, the latent strength of his shoulders, his slender hips and the defined line of muscle disappearing beneath the knot of the sarong. He unties the knot and the garment drops to the floor at his feet. 

She reaches forward, eye-line level with his chest, fingernails lightly teasing his hardening organ. He is, of course, well hung. Looking briefly to the middle of the room she regards her previous lover without emotion as he lies watching, still bound to the bed. She lowers her eyes as he looks on. Her hand, seemingly tiny against the large cock it cradles, tugs the foreskin of the new cock back over the plum sized head, stretching it hard back to the thick base, where she spreads her nails to scratch lightly under his testicles. She pulls him closer, until their bodies are touching. He puts his arms around her, locking them beneath her ass. Lifting her clear of the floor, he carries her backwards until she feels the cool wall plaster against her back. She wraps her legs around his thighs, her nipples pressing hard into, then dragging against the coarse hair of his chest as he raises her up and holds her there a moment. Her pussy, hungry to be filled once more, moistens and prepares itself for his meat. 

He enters her and her sex stretches to accommodate him. Gently, he lets her fall slightly and she is impaled, sandwiched between him and the wall. He fucks the woman slowly and steadily until her trembling legs lose their grip on his sweat coated skin. Slipping his hands down to hold her beneath her thighs, she is held fast. Pinned hard against the wall, she grapples with him, playing out some personal fantasy to which he knowingly responds. Her silver nails tear at him, leaving ugly red weals across his back and shoulders. She bites at his neck, which he tries to avert while maintaining the rhythm of his fucking. 

She begins to cry out, her pussy leaking copious amounts of creamy fluid which run back between the crack of her ass, smearing the white wall behind her. He doesn't stop. His movement gets more brutal and machine like, ass pumping back, then forwards and upwards, each stroke pushing her hard and further up the wall. She starts to mew, then cry out louder in her climax, feeling this impossibly large cock expanding within her as it sprays jets of cum deep inside her raw cunt. She feels each spurt hit the soft walls of her vagina, eyes glazing over as she comes again, her orgasm overtaking her with the accompanying rush of the drugs and champagne to her head. 

Later, after she has been washed again, they dress her in a smart summer trouser suit she selects from a wardrobe. She leaves the room, passing an envelope containing a few used bills to one of the men as he opens the door for her. "Here's a little something for your good work boys', 'Behave yourselves now', 'And make sure you clean and lock up." The only words spoken in the whole episode. She leaves the apartment and walks out into the late afternoon sun, heading down a couple of streets and into an imposing looking building. Her footsteps echo as she walks down a long marble floored corridor and into an adjoining office. 

Passing a receptionist she stops momentarily, "Julie, would you please call my husband and tell him I'll be a little late, I forgot I had an afternoon sitting." She walks down a side corridor, through a set of heavy doors, which are opened to her by a burly security guard. Entering a large panelled room, a voice ... 'All rise for Judge Sophie Armstrong, this court is now in session'. She takes her position and looks over the defendant, a rough looking but handsome blonde man. Probably just in need of a little discipline and training she thinks, as a barely perceptible smile alights on her face and she feels a familiar tingling of her pussy, silver nails clicking on the heavy wooden podium.

Sophie's Choice



This is the true story of how my stepdaughter chose to lose her virginity. Names, places and ages have been changed to protect our anonymity and to make the story suitable for publication but the events described actually took place during the summer of 2007.

The introduction is perhaps a little too long, but please be patient because without understanding our backgrounds, Sophie's story might seem unbelievable.

They say all happy families are the same, but unhappy families are unhappy in their own way.

I can tell you that this is simply not true. My own family was happy, is happy and, I hope, will remain happy. But I know for certain that we are not like most other happy families.

My name is Mike. I'm 42, a family doctor and live with my lawyer wife Susie and my eighteen year old stepdaughter Sophie. Both Susie and Sophie are sweet, bright and beautiful and I sleep with both of them. 

From a very young age, I had suspected that things in my family were not quite like in 'normal' families. I grew up acutely aware of my older great uncles and aunts whispering about things which we children should not be told, and it was common knowledge that our family had 'secrets' which must not be revealed. 

From the Victorian prudishness with which the little I knew had been talked about, and the salacious glee with which they discussed it among themselves, I guessed that the secrets were sexual in nature.

The nature of the secrets became more obvious to me when my own sexual preferences began to manifest themselves. As I grew older, went to University and eventually qualified, I resolved to investigate.

In times past – even recently past - so many things were kept hushed up that it's hard to find reliable details of things that took place even one or two generations back. Our parents and their parents took most of their secrets with them to the grave, but sometimes left the odd letter, photograph or other form of record which gives a clue to the hidden truth. 

These days, analytical techniques are much better too. Blood matching and even DNA tests are available to professionals like me so I have been able to find proof of relationships which had been little more than suspicions for many years.

We are certainly a family of secrets and are used to living with them. However, after nearly twenty years' genealogical research, I'm fairly certain about a few things.

Further back than my grandparents I can only conjecture. I hope to discover proof eventually but the first person I am truly sure about is my grandmother.

An extraordinary lady, my father's mother was a single parent, which was a real scandal for her era. Most girls were forced by peer pressure, cultural pressure or even the police to reveal the father's name and to marry, but throughout her life, my grandmother remained strong and silent despite the shame it brought her.

Evidence I now have suggests very strongly that my father's father was actually his uncle. In other words my grandmother was made pregnant by her own brother (is this making sense?) We certainly know they were very close and actually shared a house in later life after his wife, my great aunt, died. My father was an only child and my grandmother died, still unmarried, shortly after her brother.

Next, I know for certain that my father married his first cousin (his mother's brother's daughter), who became my mother. This is not illegal in the UK - indeed if cousins couldn't marry then most European royal families would have died out centuries ago. It is, however, considered inadvisable and runs the risk of birth defects. 

If you have read the above carefully, and my suspicions are correct, you will have noticed this means that my mother was actually my father's half sister as they both shared the same father – my great uncle. (Am I still making sense?) Their relationship is therefore incestuous (they are both still alive and well by the way).

My parents had three children – my two older sisters and me. My sisters are twins – not uncommon in families with some in-breeding – and are three years older than me.

My own childhood was characterised by love and confusion. When I was very young, my rather domineering older sisters used to treat me as if I was another girl. Often they would make me dress up as one, and for many years we thought nothing about being half dressed or even naked around each other – almost as if I wasn't a boy at all. As a result I grew up slightly effeminate and suffered the usual consequences at school.

Then, of course, as I matured, the physical differences between us began to become more obvious. I still vividly remember the first time I had an erection in their presence.

I was horrified and almost paralysed by embarrassment as my sisters pointed to the obvious hardness between my naked thighs. After shrieks of horror and amusement accompanied by tears of humiliation, they finally let me go to my room where I cried on the bed in shame, my face buried in the pillow, hating the horrid long thin pink thing that had divided me from my beloved sisters. I tried to hide it between my thighs and stood in front of the mirror wishing my pubic area was as smooth and pretty as theirs.

After about an hour, my older sister Sarah came to see me. She wiped the drying tears from my face with her sleeve and hugged me, all the while whispering how sorry she was that they had been so nasty to me.

I began to feel better and hugged her in return as she stroked my leg affectionately. To cut a long story short, I had another erection but this time instead of shrieking, Sarah just looked at it, then gently touched it....and touched it some more. 

She wasn't laughing at me. She was curious – gentle and affectionate, but .... interested.

When she left I was even more confused. For the rest of the day she behaved as if nothing had happened, but that night, after I had gone to bed, she crept into my room and, after a few minutes' pretending to read to me, touched me again.

This happened every night for nearly a week until, eventually, Sarah let me touch her in return. A few more secret visits passed before our 'touching' became mutual masturbation. 

This secret enjoyment went on for many months. Sarah enjoyed making me cum with her hands, and I obeyed her every command with my fingers in return. It was genuinely mutual and loving in every way and I became less effeminate by the week. Indeed after a short time the bullying stopped altogether and I found myself much more attractive to and confident with the girls at school.

Finally, after nearly two years of touching, we made love properly in my bed. It was the first time for both of us and....it was sweet and gentle and caring. And clumsy and messy and short! I now felt a real man. 

This loving relationship continued for some time without either our sister Samantha or our parents knowing, until Sarah got married at the age of twenty one.

We have never had sex together since then, but we are as close as a brother and sister can be. Samantha is quite jealous of my relationship with Sarah which I consider to have enriched my life to a great degree.

I married somewhat later at the age of 32. My own wife, Susie, was a single parent when we first met and is not genetically related to me at all – unusual in my family, but all the more healthy for that. 

Susie is average height, average build but with a sweet, youthful 'come to bed' face that I find incredibly attractive. Both she and Sophie are fiery redheads with delicate pale skin, freckles and strong characters (just like Susie's father in fact).

We first met through an 'incest interest' message board in the early days of the internet. Susie's experiences of the on-line community had not been very happy ones and she was very wary with new acquaintances. However she had eventually learned how to separate the perverts from those who genuinely had been the 'victims' of incest, and after a handful of on-line 'dates' felt confident enough to tell me that she had slept with her father since she was quite a young girl, after her mother had been killed in a road traffic accident. 

I explained my background and my experiences and we agreed to talk on the telephone. It took a long time for us to get to know each other well enough to meet in person, but after that our relationship developed apace. 

Susie did not feel she had been abused – rather it had given her sexual confidence and deepened her love for her father – but now he was no longer alive, she felt the need to talk to someone about it and of course could never tell her family or friends. The closeness of her relationship with her father had contributed to the failure of her first marriage and she had been involved in a number of short term, unsatisfactory relationships since then. My own love life had followed a similar track so I suppose we were well matched.

Her daughter Sophie is the happy but unplanned result of Susie's affair with her father, a fact that was covered up by the two of them until he died of cancer at the early age of 57, leaving her feeling abandoned and alone. Her family were quite unable to understand just why his death had affected her so very badly and of course she could not explain, hence turning to the on-line community. 

Sophie is a little taller than her mother and as long as I have known her has been very slim – almost skinny - making her seem much younger than she actually is. She is very attractive to boys, but her red hair and strong character seem to intimidate the many under-confident ones she meets. I know her as the sweet, insecure little girl she will probably always be.

With my own family history, I had no difficulty in accepting and understanding Susie's attitude and she began to trust me. After a while, with so much in common, we fell in love. Within a year were married, became a family of three and have lived together for over ten years.

Sophie took a full year to accept me into their family, but eventually moved from hostility to tolerance and finally to affection. She and I had been close for a long time before the events told in this story took place. It's likely that my not being a blood relation made the whole thing more possible. 

This is a long introduction, I know, and I hope you're not bored yet, but I thought it would make the following true story more meaningful. Without knowing our backgrounds, the following events would be hard to believe.

Sophie's Choice

I'm not entirely sure when my interest in my step daughter Sophie changed from fatherly to sexual. For most of our life together, my attitude was that of a normal, if perhaps over-protective protective stepfather. However, it was impossible to live in the same house as such a beautiful, maturing girl without noticing 'things' developing about her.

As her teenage progressed, the pale skinny waif of a girl I had known seemed to grow suddenly before my eyes into a fuller, more rounded woman and I found it impossible to see her around the house without feeling strong sexual urges. I'm not sure whether she consciously did it, but to this day I'm certain that Sophie played up to my increasingly obvious interest in her. 

For several years I managed to suppress my feelings – although my dreams were haunted by her - but eventually during the early hours when I had woken both myself and Susie up by calling Sophie's name in the night during a particularly vivid and obviously wet dream, I could no longer conceal the attraction. It was simply too strong to be ignored and confessed it to my wife.

To my eternal gratitude, Susie listened to me calmly without passing judgement and without the violent, emotional reaction I expected. She is a truly extraordinary woman who continues to surprise me. When I had finished my confession, to my astonishment, Susie sat in silence for a full five minutes then, to my relief, told me she understood my predicament. 

With a new frankness and openness, she explained that her own father had made advances to her at a much earlier age than Sophie was so she did not find my desires for the girl I considered more my daughter than a stepdaughter to be either incomprehensible or revolting. 

She asked me how far I had imagined it going. I confessed that I had fantasised often about making love to her in her own bed, but had never imagined anything could happen 'for real'.

Susie gave me a strange, analysing look which I'm sure would have unsettled her most strident clients. It certainly unsettled me. All sorts of possible outcomes sped through my mind, but the words that finally left my wife's mouth were ones I had never even dreamed of.

To my amazement, Susie suggested that she gradually introduced the idea of a sexual relationship with me to Sophie over the next few weeks. At first I could not believe my ears, but she assured me she was deadly serious – her own relationship with her father had been so close, strong and positive for her that she wanted her daughter at least to have the chance of having something similar.

Naturally I was excited at the idea, but at the same time apprehensive. After all, I had little or no reason to believe Sophie had any sexual feelings for me at all!

Meanwhile our own sex life inexplicably took a sharp turn for the better, and although I said and did nothing untoward, I found myself fantasising about my Sophie more and more often. 

Over the next few weeks I found myself noticing the things she did more as well - little things like the accidental leaving open of the bathroom or bedroom door while she was changing or bathing, or the careless flashing of her panties getting in or out of the car. And she seemed to have started wearing exceptionally short skirts around the house. In fact I had twice sent her back to her room to change into something more modest – an action that seemed to hurt her rather than make her angry.

I put it down to coincidence and an over active imagination on my part. But it kept going on! 

After six weeks of increasing frustration, I plucked up the courage to talk to Susie once again about how I felt and about the difficulty of living with a girl whose sexuality seemed to grow by the week. Susie's response knocked me sideways.

"Haven't you two done anything yet?" Her voice sounded exasperated. "Just how slow are you, Mike?" I stared at her dumbstruck. "She's been sending you messages for weeks – so clearly even I can see them!"

I just stood there, speechless.

"I thought you two had already started..... Christ, Mike, for an intelligent and successful man you can be really stupid some times!"

"Wh..What?" I stammered, making even more of a fool of myself. Susie made an exasperated sound and walked across the kitchen to where the kettle was boiling.

"I spoke to her as she went to bed the day after your 'night time confession'." Susie began, pouring two steaming mugs of tea and sitting down, indicating that I should do the same. I sat, and as we sipped our tea, a strange unreal feeling crept over me.

"What...What did she day?" I asked, my voice surprisingly hesitant. Susie sat back in her chair.

"I won't pretend she was pleased, Mike. Actually, at first she was horrified." Susie said and my heart sank like a stone. Had I just destroyed our family? Susie leaned towards me and stared straight into my eyes.

"I said, at first!" She continued, seeing the look on my face. I pressed her for more news.

"We have had a few mother / daughter heart to hearts since then." She went on. "I told her – well, I told her how much you loved her and that it was because of that love, not in spite of it that you felt this way towards her."

Nice words, I thought. All the nicer for being true!

"What eventually got through to her – and you'll understand how difficult this was for me Mike – was when I told her about my Dad and me. How special our relationship was and what it meant to both of us."

I was amazed. Susie had barely mentioned this part of her life since we had been married. It was an unwritten rule between us.

"And what did she say to that?" I asked, eager to learn.

Susie leaned back again and thought for almost a whole minute.

"Actually I'm surprised how mature she was. I can't be sure she really understood everything, but we both cried quite a lot and hugged each other a lot."

"Did you explain who her father really is?" I asked tentatively.

"Not directly. And she didn't ask directly either, but she's a bright girl and will certainly work it out. She asked me lots of questions about her Grandfather and – to my surprise – I answered them all, truthfully. Actually it was good for me to talk about it all again."

Susie looked genuinely pleased. She continued.

"I asked her a few questions too – including if she was still a virgin and she said she was."

This was a genuine surprise to me. Sophie had a constant stream of boyfriends coming to the house. Although I hated the thought, I had just assumed that, now she was eighteen, she must have slept with at least one of them by now. She might, of course have been lying to her mother but I let that thought go, and listened intently.

"She told me she was frightened about giving herself to a boy who might hurt her both physically and emotionally." Susie explained. "She told me she'd heard lots of 'kiss and tell' stories from the boys at school." She laughed. "Some of them might even have been true!"

I smiled, remembering the nonsense that had been talked when I was her age.

"What did you say to that?" I asked.

"I told her I had felt exactly the same, especially with all the pressures that there are on both boys and girls of her age." Susie replied. "It seems she's reached the point of no return several times with boyfriends but has always stopped them short of full sex."

I nodded, oddly pleased.

"Now, of course, she has the reputation of being frigid." Susie said unhappily. "But she's genuinely scared of what might happen if she lets a boy go any further."

"What did you tell her?" I asked, eager to know what happened next.

"Well, it took a while to summon up the courage, Mike, but I told her how good it had been for me to learn about sex in a safe and loving environment with an experienced man whom I could trust absolutely."

At this point I began to have doubts. Was my interest really a manifestation of love and trust? Or was it just lust on my part? To be truthful, I'm still not sure of my own motives then, but it was too late to go back now, and Susie was still talking.

"I told her how I had given my virginity to my Dad and in return had learned how wonderful sex with the right person could be. How it had given me confidence to deal with boys my age on equal terms, and how, after a while, I had felt able to try new things with him in a loving, supportive and safe environment." 

I could tell the memory was still vivid in her mind by the tears welling up in her eyes. She seldom talked about her father these days.

"In fact, I told her how it gave me the confidence to really enjoy my sex life with the few partners I'd had - right up to – and including - you!"

This was certainly true. From the moment she had eventually decided to go to bed with me, Susie had been an exciting and adventurous lover. She still was.

"That's the advantage of being married to a lawyer, Susie." I joked. "You could persuade me to do anything if you talked to me like that."

She smiled broadly. 

"Well, as a lawyer I should tell you I also explained to her that having sex with her father or stepfather is, strictly speaking, illegal, whatever your ages, and that she must never tell anyone about her Grandfather and me or I could go to prison.

"I also told her that she should think hard about whether she wanted the same relationship with you and that if she decided she did want it she must remember that, although she would have my approval and help if she wanted it, in the end you are married to me, not to her."




Sophie's Choice



I had no idea that turning forty would be like this.

I was pretty depressed for a while; the old familiar tune, feeling like I hadn't done a whole lot with my life, feeling that urge to live!

My wife, of course, didn't understand. She's a wonderful woman, but the idea of her husband having a mid-life crisis didn't exactly thrill her.

I learned my lesson after the first fight, and kept my mouth shut and did my best to pretend everything was fine.

Sure, you could call me a coward. And maybe I am.

Work was good; I was doing a great job, moving up, and was a valued member of the company.

Our receptionist is a young woman, 23, blonde, amazing beautiful. Tall, leggy, busty, and fun. Always with a smile, and loves to flirt. Which is good, since I'm notorious for flirting.

One day, walking in, I noticed the smile on her face wasn't the same. She looked pained. I walked by, and said, "Everything okay?"

She looked up, and the smile got wider, but I knew it wasn't genuine.

"I'm okay, Dave. Thanks, though."

"You sure?"

The smile finally disappeared and she sighed. "My boyfriend dumped me. Dumped me!"

I shook my head. Unbelievable. The guy was this jock type, a boy with a man's body. I saw the way he acted, like he was bored with her.

"Oh, damn, Sophie. I am so sorry."

She just shrugged. "Boys. I am so sick of boys!"

I smiled and winked at her. "You need a man, I think."

She smiled; one of those smiles that were so intoxicating to me. "You are so right. You want the job?"

I laughed, and walked to my desk. 

I didn't think much about it, just our flirting ways. The day went by quick, and I found myself finding excuses to go by the front desk. And I noticed Sophie finding reasons to come by my desk.

Curiouser and curiouser, as a famous blonde once remarked.

Quitting time and the weekend. My weekend was going to be fairly uneventful; the wife was out of town, so jacking it to internet porn seemed to be on the horizon.

I walked by the front desk, and smiled at Sophie.

"Have a good weekend, and don't worry. A woman as awesome as you deserves the best."

"Dave, wait. Happy hour at the restaurant next door sound good to you?"

I tried to think of reasons why it would be a bad idea. That amazing face with those big doe eyes.

"Yes. That sounds like an amazing idea."

Sophie smiled big and wide and we walked out the door.

Several drinks in.

She was such a charmer, laughing at my jokes.

A couple times, her hand brushed against my leg; and it would linger longer and longer.

I didn't think much of it. I was an old man, you know?

I'm not a bad looking guy; I'm tall, big, maybe a little paunchy, but I could never be mistaken for a woman.

Burly, I guess is the word. I shave my head, since my hair started to thin a few years ago.

But there was this incredibly beautiful woman, looking at me, smiling, laughing at my jokes and making me feel like the only man in the room.

I know it had been several years since I dated, so I guess my game was off.

She looked at me for several moments while I was drinking my scotch. I stopped and looked at her.

"What?"

"You..are very handsome."

That surprised me. I was able to play off it, with a "Oh, sure, I think I may be the only guy at the table, though."

She shook her head. "No joke, I've always thought that. But your eyes..they look amazing. I've never noticed them before now."

That hand again. On my knee. Her gaze at me. What was happening?

I scooted my chair a little closer. Her hand went UP. Across my thigh, with a devilish gleam in her eye.

Something definitely began to stir. I was getting very aroused, and she knew it. Her hand went further up my thigh, and her eyes widened as she felt the bulge in my pants.

I'm no porn star, but I have it where it counts.

She leaned in to me. "Let's go. It's a little crowded here."

I quickly paid the bill, and by the time we were walking out of the bar, my bulge had subsided, which was good, since twill slacks really don't help supressing a major erection.

We walked to our cars, and she moved in close to me.

I grabbed her and pressed my lips to hers.

Nothing, just her and I. The parking lot melted away in the heat.

Her lips were soft and supple, and our tongues flitted against each other.

I pulled away, gently.

She said, "Wow. I guess asking you back to my place would be okay, huh?"

I couldn't say no.

I followed her in my car, thoughts of what this meant running through my head.

Was I one of those guys? Cheating on his wife because a younger woman made him feel young again?

My dick told me to shut the fuck up.

I couldn't argue.

Her place: her fumbling for her keys, as we kissed.

We got inside and she started pulling my clothes off.

It was amazing.

She led me to the couch, and she began kissing my neck and chest, as I pulled her top of, licking her neck, biting her earlobe.

She moaned and in one swift motion her bra was off.

Nice C cups, firm and upright, with nice thick nipples. I started licking and sucking them immediately.

She fucking loved it.

"Oh God, yes, that is so good..."

Sophie touching my chest and stomach; areas that always made me feel so self-conscious, instead just made me harder and harder.

We continued kissing, my hands running all over her body, feeling the soft heat of her being.

Grabbing at my belt, she had my pants down to my knees FAST. My cock was rock hard at this point. I kicked off my shoes and got my socks off, and she had my pants off and kneeling 

down between my legs, her tongue licking the shaft. Looking up at me, as she tooked the engorged head of my dick in her mouth. Her hand, stroking the shaft, up and down.

The cock popped out her mouth.

"Goddamn, you have such a nice cock. I want it inside me."

She was undressed in less than a minute. 

She stradled me, that pussy wet and hot, and slid right over me, fast and easy.

She moaned. I moved her slow, up and down on my cock, licking and sucking her tits, as my hands grabbed her ass, moving her up and down.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, Dave. That is so goddamned good..."

Faster.

Faster.

She exploded, cumming like a wildcat, just sliding up and down on my cock, screaming my name.

I could feel the muscles inside her throbbing, and she kissed me. I picked her up, and placed her on the couch, spreading her legs.

I leaned down and kissed her, as I slid my throbbing cock inside her.

I moved nice and slow, grinding, easing it in and out.

Sophie moved her hands to her tits, playing with her nipples. Moaning my name.

"Oh, yes. I have never...oh yes!"

I would slide my cock out and then slam it back in. She would moan each time.

I was amazed how long I was lasting.

I started to pick up the rhythm.

Back and forth, faster and faster. I knew she was going to cum again, and I couldn't hold back.

"Yes, yes, cum inside me, pleeeease"

I came, thrusting hard and fast, just as she did, and Sophie screamed my name again.

I could only imagine what her neighbors were thinking.

I kissed her, and she wrapped her arms and legs around me, tight.

She grabbed a blanket that was folded at the end of the couch, and we cuddled up, kissing and talking.

"I can't beleive this happened." I said, kissing her forehead.

She smiled and stroked my cock, that was quickly become hard again.

She said, "I am so glad it happened. You are amazing, not just at this, but in a lot of ways."

We made love again, several times during that night and into the next day, getting to know each other.

So much for having a mid-life crisis; with a woman like that, who has time?



Sophie's Choice



John walked to his mailbox keys in hand just enjoying the sun on his face and the warm breeze after a long day of work. Grounded in his after work routine he opened the mailbox and sitting on top of the usual bills and junk mail was a box. The box itself was plain with a P.O. Box for the return address but what John noticed is the box was not addressed to him. Sophie Hartley lived in the 'A' building of townhomes but her unit was 5 doors down the end unit opposite of John's.

Looking over and seeing her car parked in her spot John walked down to give her the package. Upon reaching her door John rang her door bell and waited. After a short time the door opened to reveal Sophie in sweat pants and a t-shirt. Sophie stood a little over five feet and was average build if best. Her face could be said to be a little cute framed by wavy black hair that hung down to her shoulders.

She smiled when you recognized John standing at her door, "Oh hey there John how can I help you?" she asked. John and Sophie had never spent much time together just conversations at the mailbox or outside for a few minutes here or there on nice days. He always considered her pleasant enough just not his type. He usually preferred women who were a bit more lithe and fit.

"Well I found this..." John started motioning with his hand that held the package but before he could get the rest of what he was going to say out Sophie glanced down and noticed the package and stepped back from the door, "sorry to be rude John please come in."

"Oh, thanks," John responded to her invitation by stepping into her townhome. "I was just saying I found this package in my mail," he reached out his hand and extended the package to her as she closed the door.

Sophie took the package from him and looked at it thoughtfully, "Hmm...must be the chastity device I ordered for Billy," John looked at her in confusion. He saw a guy coming and going and though they never had spoken of it John thought it might be her boyfriend as he was a skinny blonde and she a stocky brunette so the guy being family never really crossed his mind. What was perplexing him was the question on the tip of his tongue, "What do you mean chastity device?"

Sophie giggled at his reaction," You know John," her voice took on a playful yet naughty tone," it's to keep Billy all locked up so he can't play with himself without my permission. I gave him a little liberty and he was jerking away fantasizing about me. So this is to make sure he behaves himself," the last part came out so matter-of-factly that John was at a loss for words. This guy would just stand for letting some girl put some sort of device on his junk?

John stood in silence for a moment as the thoughts of Sophie telling a guy when he could and could not cum ran through his mind. After a few moments he gathered himself enough to respond," You put something on your boyfriend so he can't touch himself?" 

"Well first of all," Sophie's voice got a bit more serious tone to it," Billy is not my boyfriend. Any guy who can't keep his hands off himself until I say is not strong enough to be with me...but yes John," her voice softening," that's exactly what I am going to do to Billy. He tried to keep from cumming without my permission but he cheated and now I am going to have to lock him up to make sure he behaves."

"First time I've heard of something like that," John responded as the thought of Sophie controlling his own masturbation flitted through his mind causing his voice to slightly crack.

Sophie took a step closer to him as she noticed how uncomfortable he was getting," It's perfectly natural John," she said with a soft, throaty voice," most guys just can't control their own libido and having a woman take the reins makes their experience so much more fulfilling."

Sophie was smiling up at John and he hoped she would keep looking up at him instead of down at his crotch as he was sure there was no way to hide his growing erection. That along with her proximity to him was causing an uncontrollable reaction. Fearing the worst John took a step back and as he did Sophie glanced down and her eyes seem to light up, "Oh John it looks like you're one of those guys," she teasingly said.

"Um...Sophie...I don't think..." he stammered.

"It's okay Johnny," she said stepping towards him again and pressing her breasts into him as he backed into the door. She looked up into his eyes, "You know I can take care of all that pressure Johnny. You carry that burden all the time and just to have me take it for you would make things so much easier," her voice sounded so sexy and suddenly John felt her hand on his crotch which caused him to gasp.

"Yessss baby that's right, just let Sophie take control for a little while, " her hand rubbed up and down over his cock which was straining against the front of his pants. She was leaning her body into him pressing his back firmly into the door. He moved his hand to stop her from rubbing his cock and just as he touched her arm, "keep your arms at your sides baby unless you want me to stop..." she left the statement hanging and John lowered his arm back down. "Oh Johnny you are going to love this soooo much," her hand continued rubbing slowly up and down, "that lethargic feeling you are getting coupled with the pleasure is you giving in to me," her voice softened," this is where I break you down. The more you give over control to me the more pleasurable it gets for you. That's the trap Johnny."

John's eyes were closed as he felt ever bit of what Sophie was saying to him. The pleasure washed over him and he felt like he could just slide down the door and melt into the floor. Her hand rubbing against him felt so good and the pleasure was so overwhelming he let out a soft moan.

"Oh yeah," she purred," now you're feeling it. It's going to build...and build," hand rubbing a bit more insistently," and build Johnny until you can't hold back and you just give yourself to me," John's entire body jerked as he started cumming in his pants. The rush was incredible. He never felt a climax like the one he was experiencing.

"Yes baby get it all out," the rubbing continued and Sophie felt John's knees give out but pressed harder into him to hold him up for her final touch. "Oh that's so much better isn't it baby?" As his orgasm subsided John could only nod his head in response. Sophie grabbed the head of his cock through his pants with her thumb and forefinger rubbing it over and over.

"Ahh god," John cried out as the ministrations to his oversensitized cock caused his body to jerk out of control.

"Yes baby you feel so weak right now," her fingers continued to do their magic," you're going to want to feel this way again and again. From now on when you can't help yourself and just need to cum you are going to come to me and ask permission. Is that clear?" Once again John's head only nodded as his body continued to move reflexively from Sophie's touch. "If I find out you have cheated then the only way this relationship continues is if you put on a chastity device. Is that clear?" Another nod.

"Johnny I am so happy we finally got together like this. I've always thought you were kind of cute but you probably never realized what kind of power I can have over men," she let out a throaty laugh," especially a man like you."

With that Sophie backed away and John fell to his knees in front of her. "Oh that's so nice little Johnny," she said reaching out her hand to stroke his head. She pulled his head toward her crotch and began rubbing his face into it through her sweatpants. "Oh Johnny," she breathed," the first time I take a man down it always makes me so wet. With you I think it may happen more often. I am going to break you over and over and over again," John looked up after she made the statement and saw her smiling down at him.

"Thanks for dropping off my mail Johnny. You can let yourself out and I'll know you'll be back to see me real soon," the look in her eyes was one of supreme confidence and as he picked himself up off her floor to leave he knew it came from experience.



Sophie's Choice



"No, I'm not going to give you a blowjob!" Sophie told Max, her fellow second year medical student.

"But you promised!" the lanky nerd replied.

The two were arguing in hushed whispers in the library of the old New England medical school they attended. Sophie noticed that some of the other students had unburied their faces from the textbooks and journals in which were hidden the solutions of clinical mysteries encountered on the wards, and her face reddened at the thought her last utterance had been overheard.

"I thought of what you would be doing for me as I was explaining countercurrent exchange in the kidney. So I guess I spent two hours enlightening you for the test tomorrow for nothing. And to top it off, I missed a chance to go to the last day of Comic-Con because of you."

Sophie fumbled through her purse, finally finding her wallet. The offspring of two physicians, she was never hurting for money. She opened her billfold and pulled out two hundred dollar bills. 

"Here. Take this and get some bimbo to give you your damn blowjob!"

Sophie tried to force the bills into Max's hand but he pushed them away.

"No. We had a deal, dammit!"

"I can't believe that you thought one of your classmates would suck your dick!"

"We could start going out."

"I have a boyfriend."

"He doesn't have to know. And I don't see an engagement ring."

"No!"

"We could have fun together. I've liked you since I first set eyes on you. Give me a chance, please!"

"For how long?"

"Until the end of the year."

It was early September. Sophie counted the weeks she would have to endure Max's company and frowned. She would never be able to pull it off. Besides, Brad, her possessive law student boyfriend, would almost certainly find out.

"I'll give you five hundred dollars if you'll just forget about this."

"No."

Max wouldn't forget that she had promised to give him a blowjob in exchange for tutoring her. She had thought wearing a tank top that showed a lot of cleavage and flirting with the young man was payment enough for a two hour lecture on physiology. When he asked if she would give him a blowjob, she said "Sure", certain at that moment he wouldn't have the balls to demand the statuesque brunette fellate him.

"You're going to hound me until I suck your dick, aren't you?"

"Yes."

She imagined how her email box would fill up with messages from the horny geek, demanding she fulfill her promise. And she would have little leverage to complain of harassment since Max had used his cell phone to record her making the promise.

'If we do this, you must never tell a soul. I will fucking kill you if this ruins my life."

"I have no intention of spoiling yours or anyone else's life. Whatever we do together will be just between us. I'll take the secret to my grave."

Sophie inspected their surroundings. All of the other student's heads were buried in reading material. 

She had an irritable bladder and was forever having to urinate, so she knew the location of every bathroom in the building and remembered the pair of lavatories next to the conference rooms in the basement. No one would be there at this time of the day. She struggled to remember if there were locks on the doors.

"Meet me in the basement," she told Max.

She turned and walked towards the elevators. Turning around, she saw Max following in her footsteps. She scowled at him.

"Wait a couple of minutes. I don't want anyone to see us together."

Max turned around, and she was sorry for her words upon seeing his crestfallen expression. But remembering that the young man was turning her into a whore, it took only a moment for her anger to return.

She pushed the down button and paced while awaiting the arrival of the elevator. Max had obeyed her command and was nowhere to be found. The elevator arrived and she stepped into the car. Her finger shook as she pressed 'B'. For the first time in years she craved a cigarette.

As the elevator car descended, she wondered if he would chicken out. Or he might not be able to get it up. It would be fitting if after everything he had just put her through that he wouldn't be able to get a hard on for the prettiest girl in the class.

The elevator arrived in the basement. Sophie stepped into the corridor and was relieved not to see Max before remembering it was not yet time for his arrival. Her heart pounded as she waited for the bell to signal the elevator's arrival. The elevator shafts were quiet, leading her to suspect her unwanted suitor had lost his nerve. She was startled when the door to the stairwell opened and Max emerged.

"I, I took the stairs be, because I didn't want anyone to see me going down to the basement. So, you know, no one would know we hooked up," Max stammered, gasping for air from his dash down the stairs.

"I don't know what the fuck this is, but it isn't even hooking up. If you have any daughters, I hope you remember this when they go off to college."

"I've had a crush on you since the first day of school last year. That was just so awesome when you asked me to help you with physiology today. I never thought I'd get a chance like this to get to know you. 

"You should just find a girl you like and ask her to go to the movies. I hear the nursing students talk. 'That new medical student in the ICU is so cute.' 'I heard the medical student on Pediatrics just broke up with his girl friend. Maybe he'll ask me out.' 

"Believe me, this is a one time thing with me. You really need a girlfriend."

"I can't get anyone to go out with me."

She wiped away the spittle that had accompanied his words from her cheek and looked at the young man whose cock she was about to suck. His black hair was long and stringy. His attempt at growing a mustache had only resulted in a coating of fuzz on his upper lip. The black rimmed glasses he wore were dirty. Zits were randomly distributed on his face. Coffee stains adorned the white tee shirt across which was inscribed the school's logo. 'Ugh' would be her reaction if this creature had asked her for a date.

But his eyes were a different story. His brown orbs exuded kindness. She thought of the ugly dog that was her constant companion as she grew up. He was always at her side when other girls were mean to her or life wasn't meeting her expectations. He kept her warm at night during cold Vermont winters. And no matter how she treated him, he would be there for her.

Max most likely had never been with a woman before; probably twenty-four or twenty-five years old and still a virgin, ready to enter one of the most esteemed professions and can't get laid. She thought about how impatient Brad would get after not fucking her for a week. How horny this guy who's never had a woman must be!

Relief came over her when she saw the lock on the door of the women's room. She hoped it was clean. 

"Come on," she commanded, and walked toward the lavatory.

She did not hold the door open for Max and heard the door hit him as he followed. As he gawked at the row of women's urinals, she turned the knob and locked to lock them inside.

She turned and felt Max's eyes on her. He was staring at her in awe. Her wavy brown locks rested on her shoulders. Her delicate features and strong chin betrayed her French ancestry. Purple lip gloss adorned her lips but no foundation was needed; her fair complexion and rosy cheeks needing no enhancement from anything humankind could produce. Blue eyeliner made her eyes alluring. The only thing missing was a smile.

Gold hoops dangled from her earlobes. Underneath a sheer white long sleeve blouse she wore a black tank top adorned by her nipple imprints. Tight jeans held up by a gold chain hugged her trim tush. Purple polish coated her nails. On her dainty feet were low heels through which her toes poked out.

Brad never worshipped her like this. Instead he, the son of a super rich corporate lawyer, felt rightly that he was god's gift to women. 

Brad was engaged when he met Sophie, who wanted him so badly she promised to do anything that his fiancee did in bed and even more. That final thought evinced a twinge of pain in her asshole.

Feeling like the goddess of a motley cult made her smile. Max's face lit up. She was startled when he leaned over and planted his lips on hers.

These lips are so soft, she thought. She was never kissed by Brad this way. Her tongue shot into Max's mouth before she had even made the decision to return his affections. Their tongues danced together and with her eyes closed she imagined Max clean shaven, with his hair trimmed, and clad in stylish clothes.

Max took her into his arms and pressed her against his chest. Lately, the only time she and Brad were this close was when they had sex. Her boyfriend was a champion at pleasing her in bed but sometimes seemed annoyed by her presence when not in the mood to fuck her.

Max rocked as he held her tight. She heard his heart racing and wondered what it would be like to be married to a guy who won the Nobel prize. She immediately dismissed the thought but conceded to herself that whoever ended up with Max would not be taken for granted. The hard on that pressed into her tummy communicated his ardor for her.

"It was OK that I kissed you," he said softly.

"It was OK. I enjoyed it."

"So you're not mad at me anymore?"

"A little," she lied.

"You don't have to, you know..."

"What? Give you a blowjob?"

"Yeah."

"It's all right. I'm over the shock. It's just a little strange how this all came about."

"I've never had one before."

"I'll bet you never even kissed a woman before I kissed you just now."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't you ever go on dates?"

"Girls always say no when I ask them. They tell me they're seeing someone, they're busy, or that they like me but not that way."

"So you're frustrated?"

"No, I'm used to it. I just like you. I'm sorry I asked you what I asked you. I don't know what came over me. We can go now."

"I can tell you really like me. And you should be rewarded for teaching me about countercurrent flow in the kidney." 

She broke out of his embrace and knelt between his legs.

"You really don't have to."

"I can't leave someone who's been so kind to me like this."

She felt his fingers running through her hair as she unbuckled his belt and pulled his zipper down. His Jockey shorts were already wet. She yanked his trousers and underpants down his legs. His magnificent erect circumcised cock popped out, swaying back and forth.

"You've got a big one!" Sophie exclaimed. She wrapped her right hand around it and began slowly stroking the shaft.

"It's all right, I guess."

"You'll make your wife happy some day."

"I hope you're right. But I'm the kind of guy who couldn't even get laid in a morgue."

She looked up at him. Max spirits rose even higher when he saw the sparkle in her eyes.

"Max, you sell yourself short. If you just put a little more work into your appearance, girls would go out with you."

"Do you know any?"

She did, but the one of whom she was thinking was getting ready to take Max's cock into her mouth.

"I'll keep your problem in mind."

She opened up her mouth and slid her lips over the head of Max's cock. He sighed as her lips slid over the corona and down the shaft. His fingers continued to tickle her scalp. By this time, Brad's hand would be like a vise on her head and she would be like a plaything in his hands as he thrust her head up and down on his cock.

She tickled the frenulum and circled the corona with her tongue, and Max enjoyed it just as much as the exactly five other guys she fellated had. Her pussy was becoming wet and she hoped her roommate wouldn't be home later since masturbation was an activity she performed only in the most private setting.

Max had offered to let her off the hook, so she hadn't become a whore. But Brad sometimes made her feel that way if she wasn't in the mood to do it after receiving some expensive treat.

As her lips moved up and down the shaft of the nerd's penis, she tried to convince herself that this action was of her own volition. But tears came to her eyes with the realization that she was just a selfish bitch who used her good looks and willingness to fuck to get what she wanted. The nerd was too good for her, she realized.

Max moaned as he neared climax, the first time he would orgasm from contact with a woman. She realized that she couldn't abandon him after their tryst. It would assuage her guilt to be nice to him. She thought of some dark cozy places they could frequent until she could get him cleaned up.

It was time to finish him off. He had waited long enough to score with a woman. At least it was someone who was clean and cared for him, she thought. She definitely would see him again. And for her, regardless of how things turned out with Max, it was time to move on from Brad.

The tip of her tongue alit on his frenulum. His cock began to pulsate in her mouth. She prepared to receive his semen.

She was not surprised when his cum started gushing into her mouth. His dick squirted over and over. He must have not masturbated for a week. All the tension departed from his body. She stroked him with her lips when he went limp, then expelled him, and looked up and opened her mouth. He smiled when he saw what she had not yet swallowed.

She rose to her feet and planted her lips on his. His semen trailed from her mouth into his as their tongues lawled together. When they broke apart they gazed into each other's eyes and Sophie saw a kind young man who was overcoming his shyness with women.

He released her and she walked to the mirror. With a tissue she wiped the cum from her lips and applied lip gloss, her face next to the image of his in the mirror.

She turned around to see Max, still in rapture from his epiphany with his goddess. She wiped her lip gloss from his face.

"I liked that," he said.

She was sure he was holding back the words, 'I love you.'

"I liked it, too. We'll have to study together again someday. But rather than do it here in this drafty old building, why don't we do it in my apartment instead?"

"That would be nice."

"I have to go now. It's eleven o'clock. That's past my bedtime. I'm a morning person. Are you, too?"

"Not really. but I kind of want to be now."

"I understand."

"I'll walk you back to your apartment, if that's OK?"

"I'd enjoy that."



Sophie's Choice



Sophie was smart. One of those girls who was so smart she raised the IQ level of whatever classroom she was in. Once she raised her hand and started to analyze the reading in her clear, soft voice – sometimes letting out a small laugh at herself – all the guys began jumping over themselves to come up with smart things to say. Of course the guys were paying more attention to her looks than her brain. She had a certain way of dressing which was stylish and yet unpretentious. Soft fabrics, loosely draped and sometimes lightly patterned; below the belt, tight, practical jeans in dark colors. Her clothes did nothing to flaunt her figure but they couldn't conceal it either. Her legs were slim and thighs smooth, ass small but perfectly rounded and firm. Her breasts, natural, and slightly large for her frame, made soft mounds in her loose shirts. Her hair was a dirty blonde, hanging below her shoulders and wavy. She pulled it back in a simple ponytail or let it drape onto one shoulder. Her face was pale and her eyes, dark brown, always seemed to have a slight smile. Her cheeks carried a light flush, and her lips parted slightly when she was lost in thought, which was how I often saw her. 

The three of us were in our second year of college: me (Mark), Sophie, and Darien, my roommate. I hadn't lucked out in the housing lottery and scored a single for myself, nor had I had the foresight to secure an apartment off campus. So I was stuck sharing again, but at least the room was decent. Larger than the typical narrow college-dorm setup, my bed was at a right angle across the room from Darien's and there was plenty of space for our two desks, and the inevitable mess of clothing, textbooks, hard drives, and snacks that accumulated around the permanent fixtures of the hookah and the bong. Yes, we smoked in our room – religiously – and as long as Darien set aside a small supply of weed as tribute to our RA, no-one cared, and no-one was the wiser. 

Sharing a room definitely put a crimp in my sex life. It was hard to be spontaneous and hook up with random chicks (which always felt like was happening all around us – whether it was or wasn't) when I couldn't even guarantee a private place to come back to. Still, we made do, and by the end of winter Darien had the luck, the looks, and the guts to ask out Sophie, and have her accept. 

Darien was a music major, who could practice piano diligently for hours and get up to crazy hijinks in the same night. I was still torn at that point; was I going to major in history, political science, english? I was wandering, caught in my own head a lot. To Darien's quiet confidence, fair hair, solid smile, you can contrast my black hair, the slouching gate, cynical attitude. I had a certain dark handsomeness, and I was capable of being charming, but only in bursts – if you ran into me in the halls or on the quads I was more likely to be frowning. I ended up a creative writing major, and I think that's why it has fallen to me to tell our tale. 

Darien and I liked to go to the midnight movies at the student film center: bizarre old noirs, blaxploitation films, Kurosawa flicks, you name it – they were all good, and they were even better high. We soaked up every experience we came across that year – with the confidence to get around campus and our city, and finally getting an idea of where we sat in the social stratum of the college, we were unstoppable. We found mind-blowing art and music, tripped on drugs I hadn't even heard of before leaving my sleepy high school (Molly? Did they name the drug after a chick?), and explored the forgotten corners of the city. By the springtime Darien had brought his car to campus from home – so he could commute to an internship, he told his parents – but the real reason was so that we could soar around the city at all hours, windows down, drunk and high, blasting hip hop radio. It's a miracle we never ran into trouble. 

When Darien started dating Sophie she slid easily into our routine. She had a fierce curiosity, and while she came across as reserved and almost shy in her demeanor at first, it was impossible to embarrass her, and if anything she pushed our explorations and the crazy streaks in our behavior even farther. She took herself seriously, and by extension, took us seriously. It was easier to get into bars and clubs with her winning smile, and that was the year I fell in love with house music. By the time the school year was wrapping up, the friendship of the three of us had matured into a really tight bond. When Sophie and Darien wanted alone time, I would wander, and come back around 2 or 3 to crawl into bed with them sleeping soundly across the room. In the meantime I would go to the apartment of some friends of ours, go get laid myself if I was lucky, or borrow Darien's car and just cruise up and down the shoreline. 

Did I forget to mention the beach? As the weather got warmer, the beach quickly became our favorite spot. We would go late at night when no one was around, smoke a joint and drink a few beers, look at the city skyline on the curving shore, and plunge into the water to give ourselves a cold, exhilarating wake up call; emerging, all of our skins would tingle as if slapped. Feeling fresh, one of us would declare to mutual agreement that it was time to light the next joint. Sometimes I would bring a girl, too, other times some of our other friends would join us, but even when it was just me, him, and Sophie, it was never awkward. Thinking back, I suppose these nights at the beach were the first time I saw Sophie's body. Perhaps I'd had a glimpse in the hazy predawn, her getting dressed across the room, turned away – but at the beach we would all strip to our underwear, and emerge soaked to lie that way in the sand. She wore practical bras, modest panties; it was dark; I was too busy soaking in the night to really lust after her on these nights. 

Eventually something did change in our friendship, in such a subtle and unexpected way that I don't think I noticed at first. Darien had declared that it was his summer goal to go out on a boat. Like, a yacht. Now, obviously none of us had a boat, nor did we want to spend money to book a boat tour or fishing boat – besides, the commercial experience wasn't what he was looking for, Darien explained. We quickly realized that none of us knew anyone with boats; that nobody we knew knew anyone with a boat; or that if they did, they weren't about to tell. So we hatched a bold plan. 

It was a gorgeous day in the middle of May. We had finished classes and it was still several days before we had final exams. The chances of us studying were practically nil. We gathered, geared up, and made sure we had plenty of supplies. I was hauling a bag of ice in my backpack. Sophie had gotten a handle of fancy rum from the local liquor store – they made most of their money selling to college students anyway. Darien had weed and rolling papers. In our minds, these were the essentials for a trip on a boat. We drove down to a marina, a place we'd passed many times on the coast road that was well stocked with fancy yachts and their fancy owners. We wandered down the dock, sweet-talking our way past the light security, and set up our little stake out. 

The traffic was brisk, as it was one of the warmest, breeziest days of early summer and folks were itching to get out on their boats. But we were waiting for the right people to approach. It had to be young people, obviously. And not too buttoned up. We waited until the right gang came walking down the dock. It was five people, two men and three women, who appeared to be in their early twenties. The men had grizzly partial beards, were wearing sandals and brightly colored bathing suits. One had on a Chuck Klosterman t-shirt. The women wore loose t-shirts, beach shirts, under which were obviously bikinis. As they were coming into view, Darien gave Sophie a nudge in her ribs and she entered her routine. Pressing her phone to her ear, she cursed out the imaginary person at the end of the line. 

"What do you mean you can't make it?"

"Well – we're out here already! What are we supposed to do?... It's your boat, we can't just take it for a go. Do either of you guys even know how to sail?" We shook our heads – it was true, we didn't. 

"Come on, blow it off, just come down here! It's a beautiful day, we'll have fun. We're sitting on the dock just waiting for you. Oh, god, you are so predictable. You owe me one, Dave!"

She spat the name Dave with such virulence that it was all Darien and I could do not to crack up. For the next several days, whenever we intended to express irritation we would end our sentence with a fierce Dave!

The ploy worked. The guy in the Chuck Klosterman shirt overheard. He wouldn't have said anything, had Darien not made an offhand comment in his direction. Something along the lines of, "Have a good time guys, maybe we'll see you out on the water some other day." 

Of course (I'll just call him Chuck) Chuck had to stop and hear the story. We kept the fiction as simple as possible, not pretending to be anyone other than ourselves. The only thing we invented was Dave, our supposed stupendously wealthy friend who was supposed to take us out on his yacht and had ditched us to go golfing with his uncle. We struck it off immediately with these guys, and combined with the bribe of rum (they had only brought two six-packs! Amateur hour) they agreed to take us out on their boat. 

That was an incredible day, and there was something incredibly sexy about it too. The boat belonged to Chuck – he was a 25 year old investment banker and apparently rolling in money. His friend Dylan was an old buddy from his firm, and it turned out the women were almost as much strangers to them as we were. One of them, Lauren, had met Dylan at a club where Dylan and Chuck had bottle service, and had brought two of her friends along with her for this boating trip because she was nervous about being alone with the two men. We made a merry band. We drank like – well, like sailors. We got along fabulously, intoxicated as much by the sun and breeze as the rum and weed. Because of course, we got high. Bonkers high. 

But that was also the day I began to see Sophie in a different light. The whole atmosphere was sexually charged, from the skimpy bikinis of the women added with the thrill of our boldness, the excitement of the intimacy we were plunging into with these strangers, and the general intoxication. An undirected, heady sense of lust squeezed at my chest. Everyone was feeling it to some degree or another, and teasing abounded. Dylan was well muscled and tanned, while Chuck was slightly lankier like me or Darien. All three of the women were gorgeous, Lauren breathtakingly thin and blonde, with bright blue eyes, small breasts and an impossibly perky ass. She was from rural pennsylvania and was red blooded; she told us about the two shotguns she kept at home, for god's sake; but we forgave her because she was just so damn cute. 

Rachel and Drea were brunettes. Rachel, with breasts almost too large for her bikini, was shameless about propping them up between her forearms, jiggling them slightly with the motion of the boat. Drea had a shock of short dark hair, and perfectly bronze skin. Her bare neck looked ripe to be suckled and her bikini, strapless, was by far the most stylish. She gravitated towards Chuck which left Rachel to mercilessly tease me throughout the day. Dylan and Lauren escaped belowdecks for a reckless and uninhibited fuck after she'd sat on his lap for the better part of an hour. Perhaps Chuck and Drea hooked up eventually too but I never saw Rachel again – she was older, classier, and honestly not my type. 

It only added to the sexual charge on the boat hearing the muffled sounds of Lauren being ravaged by the athletic Dylan. And Sophie and Darien were feeling it. Modest earlier in the day, Sophie had slowly undressed to match the other women, wearing a dark bikini that I had never seen before, the top tied loosely around her neck. It did little to conceal the shape of her pale, ample breasts, round, with just a slight buoyancy. At some point Darien had rubbed her down with a tanning oil that the girls had passed around, both embarrassed by and relishing the pure sexuality of the action. I hadn't been able to tear my eyes away (though I did get the satisfaction of doing the same for Rachel). Now her skin gleamed slightly with the oil's sheen, catching the light in its breathtaking whiteness and it was impossible to look away. 

Naturally shy about her body, it took Sophie much of the day to open up, but she was not immune to the effects of the booze and weed. First her posture slackened and she allowed her legs to open wider. Later she leaned her head against Darien's chest, which squeezed her left breast up against his side. He put an arm around her and rested it on the outside of her ass. Their eyes were both half closed, Rachel and Drea were cracking up as they wound their way through some office story, and it left me free to feast my eyes on my roommate and his girlfriend. 

Sophie had that dreamy, lost-in-thought look, tempered by a quiet smile. Her chest rose and fell with her breathing. Soon Darien began stroking up and down the outside of her leg, lightly gripping her ass, and in response, she snuggled closer to him. Her breasts were pushed together, her cleavage seeming ready to burst out of her bikini. Then he gently moved his hand over to the inside of her leg, continuing to gently caress her, his hand straying as far as the edge of her bikini bottoms as she widened her legs slightly to give him access. Her breathing was accelerating, making her breasts rise and fall and allowing me to hear the faint intakes of air from my position across the boat. 

For a moment I saw the potential for the afternoon to turn into a full blown orgy, and I was shocked at myself. I didn't want to fuck Sophie, did I? I didn't even want to watch Darien fucking her, that was their private business and their friendship right then was the most important thing to me in the world. Yet I was aroused, my head spinning with arousal actually, and I didn't know what to do. This blatantly sensual image was the last thing I had expected from my music major roommate and his brilliant, slightly shy girlfriend. But then again it was an incredible day. At last to my relief, Sophie sort of poked Darien in the stomach and he withdrew his hand to rest comfortably on her hip. She snuggled closer to him and whispered something in his ear and that was that. It was soon time for another round of drinks, and they were roused, laughing again with the group. 

A beautiful evening slowly darkened the horizon and after we had drank, and laughed, drank some more, and even danced, we finally finished the rum and Chuck guided the boat back to port. We exchanged mutual assurances that we should do this again sometime. We even swore up and down we would take them out on Dave's boat sometime. Darien took Chuck's number and visa versa and as far as I know, they never talked to each other again. I took a drive that night to clear my head – yes, I should interject here to stress that driving drunk as much as I did in college is probably not wise – and let Darien and Sophie have some privacy. I couldn't shake the image of Sophie in her bikini from my head. There were only a few days left in the semester but I found myself determined – aching, actually – to get laid. So even as I continued hanging out with Darien over the following days, I found excuses to make my way to random parties, looking for girls I knew and trying to meet new people. 

These efforts culminated on a Thursday night, the night that turned out to be so memorable for all of us. The next day, Friday, we were moving out of the dorm. I had sensed Sophie feeling a twinge of emotion as the semester wound down, not liking the prospect of having to separate from Darien, even though they would be able to see each other over the summer. It felt like the end of an era in a way, and I think it felt especially like that for them. So that Thursday night, they went out to have a special evening, just the two of them. They dressed up and went to a fancy restaurant downtown, had a delicious dinner, and then went to a nearby club where they danced their hearts out before sneaking off to the roof to smoke a joint and watch the city lights blinking out. They were infatuated, heads swimming and the night just slipped by. I learned all this later. 

I on the other hand went to a house party that migrated to a frat party, that migrated to another house party well off campus, at a place where I'd never been. I was smoking cigarette after cigarette on the fire escape, something I don't normally do, with all my senses reeling. Slightly drunk, I felt like the experiences I had had all year were washing over me all at once, filling me with an intense sense of gratitude for the incredible friendships I'd had, but also a sharp disappointment that I had no love story, no girl to pull close to me as I was going to sleep that night. 

I shook these feelings off, though I still felt them tingling in my spine, as I turned on the charm and tried to get laid. I spotted a girl off by herself struggling with a lighter, and I smoothly raised mine to her lips. Soon we were laughing and I was finding myself attracted to her. She was severely bony, wearing a cropped t-shirt that left bare a stretch of her midriff, and jeans that hung so low on her waist that I could see the bones of her pelvis peeking above the washed out blue waistline. Soon I had tucked a finger through one of her belt loops and pulled her towards me, sucking her lips, grabbing her ass and mashing her pelvis against my leg. 

She led me to the bathroom where I was ready to drop my pants and fuck her up against the sink – instead she pulled out a thin pouch from her back pocket, laid out two lines of cocaine, and handed me a dollar bill. I had never tried coke before. I mean, there was plenty of it going around, but it had never been offered to me so directly. I did a line and so did she, and we made out some more; soon I unbuttoned her jeans and slipped a finger down to press against her pussy. She responded with loud but somehow mechanical moans. I was feeling the effects of the cocaine, my blood racing, and I wanted nothing more than to fuck her. But it was then that she decided to vomit. 

The toilet was right there, thankfully, and she had good aim. There was no mess, and she soon had freshened up, looking like nothing had happened. But the moment was over, the coke running through my blood was making me restless and the small bathroom felt hot, and cramped, with a faint, unpleasant new smell. I excused myself and I suppose she found someone else to fuck that night. 

I made my way back to the dorm; it was around two in the morning so I felt sure I wouldn't be interrupting Darien and Sophie. Still I lingered outside and smoked the rest of my cigarettes, just drinking in the night air, feeling feelings. 

When I tiptoed into my dorm room, I was surprised to find there was no-one there. I thought maybe Sophie's roommate had already moved out, and so the two of them had gone to her room. But Darien hadn't mentioned anything about that. I stretched out and tried to fall asleep. I had a hard-on but didn't feel like masturbating. I kept seeing the slightly hollow eyes of the coked-out girl from the party, and hearing her unenthusiastic moaning. I didn't fall asleep until three or maybe four in the morning, and even then I didn't sleep deeply. 

I heard them the moment they came to the door, listening to Darien fumble with the handle then quietly ease the door shut behind him; hearing their whispers. I snuck open one eye and I could tell it was almost morning, maybe 5 o'clock – a predawn light was filling the room and turning everything into a sort of greyish pink. It was a fantastic light and one I rarely see, not being much of a morning person. But at that moment, I was not watching the light. I was watching Darien and Sophie.