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Katrina Thompson, Trouble Ch. 01

By: yowser



Part One of a two act story.

They had said that Trina Thompson was high-maintenance. Of course they were right, James and Nigel and Stash, and if anybody should have known it was them, and I ought to have heeded their advice. But I couldn't help myself.

I was in the grip of very great lust, not for the first time in my life, and I had reckoned that my keen and innate talents were sufficient to overcome whatever obstacles were in the way. Boy, was I in for a surprise. 

"She is one predatory bitch," said Stash, perched on the armrest of our beat-up couch, his eyebrows furrowed, as he popped the top of his fourth Pabst of the night. 

"But look at her," I insisted. "She's got a chest to fucking die for. And the way she flaunts it, waves it around, wears those tight tops? She's asking for it man, I tell you."

"Yep, asking all right," said Stash, between droughts. "And you are gonna pay for it. And pay for it, and pay for it until you wished you'd never set your miserable fucking eyes on her."

"But that's the trouble. I have set eyes on her. Those mighty tits. That Kardashian ass she wiggles around. Those big full lips on her mouth that deserve to be running up and down my cock." I gyrated my pelvis enough that Nigel laughed. 

"That large-lipped luscious cunt those big broad hips just have to be holding, that will suck up my sperm up like a 100 watt Wet/Dry Vac."

Stash, whose ironic nickname referred to the sparseness of his determined but pathetic mustache, laughed hard, spilling some beer on our well-worn student-housing carpet. 

"You know, of course, that she's plowed her way through just about the whole offensive line of the football team? Probably most of the linebackers too. Half of Delta Smegma."

James chuckled at this little joke of ours. Of course this referred to Delta Sigma Phi. All the cocks in our little foursome were circumcised, we couldn't help poking fun at the "sword in the scabbard" lot who tended, for reasons unclear, to dominate the ranks of that fraternity. Don't ask how we possessed this bit of intelligence.

"You don't believe us, go talk to one of them." James leered at me. "Don't do it, Chris, you will be one sorry hombre."

"She's eaten up and spit out better men than you, Chris," said Nigel.

I bridled at this. "You don't think my cock is up for a challenge?" I asked, eyes flashing. "I did Alisa Churchill four times one night last October, then filled her mouth good once more the next morning."

(This assertion was not strictly accurate, but was within our group's standard deviation of boasts, plus or minus one, except that we always rounded up. Still a higher truth-value than our beer consumption calculations, however.)

"Not concerned about your cock, Chris. Well, maybe a little. It is the peripherals that are gonna fucking kill you."

We argued back and forth a bit, but it didn't do any good. I was smitten. I wanted my prick doing all sorts of lovely things to this buxom big strumpet, my penis lodged in various places of her anatomy, having her sexual energy winding up my clock, coaxing me into catatonic states of climax. I wanted to be intimate and playing with every square inch of her body.

The guys listened and just shook their heads.

Stash sighed. "You go ahead man, go ahead. Don't let us stop you. But don't come back whining later, either."

Of course I had met Trina before, you could hardly miss her on campus, she occupied a lot of airspace, but that Monday morning before class I had run into her in line at the Starbucks just opposite the main entrance to the university. We traded chat for a few minutes at one of the unoccupied tables over our cups before we rushed off in our separate directions. 

She is one big girl, taller than me when she has heels on, but round, broad, hefty. Her jeans were tight, her meaty thighs straining the fabric. A jaunty red beret topped her wild unruly dark hair, a leather jacket kept the early March cold of Boston at bay.

The only, albeit minor, aspects of her appearance (besides the fact that she wasn't supermodel thin, which didn't bother me in the slightest) that kept her from a five-star rating involved, unfortunately, her face. 

Not that it was unpleasant - I liked her flashing brown eyes and beckoning smile, her hair and overall features. But she had one of those short pointed chins that doesn't really stick out much and mostly just retreated into her thick, fleshy throat. She also possessed a sharp, prominent nose. Together they gave her a vaguely porcine appearance. Nonetheless, she would rank at the top in looks for any girl I had ever dated, and she turned heads wherever she went. 

Her eyes had showed interest while we talked at Starbucks, it was not my imagination. While I cannot claim, at that stage, that we "flirted," there was definitely something going on. 

We had traded phone numbers and I texted her later that day, seeing if I could buy her lunch Wednesday. She responded sooner than I might have thought, a big Yes. Hot damn.

We had a good time that Wednesday at Rudi's, a sandwich place just off-campus, and my notion of some chemistry between us accumulated further evidence. She wore a blouse unbuttoned down a daring distance, and she made sure I got a good look at her cleavage when she leaned forward to talk with me over her pastrami-on-rye, those creamy big breasts of hers squeezed together into a lovely valley. 

No doubt there was possibility here. She had a saucy smile and her eyes took in my shoulders, carefully cultivated flat stomach, and what I considered to be an acceptably handsome face. She absolutely oozed interest. I asked her out Friday night, to a restaurant usually beyond my means, hoping for good things. She said yes. Later that evening, back at our flat, my excitement in telling my suite-mates this piece of news had resulted in them voicing their dismal opinions on the whole matter. 

I had planned to get us to the restaurant via the Redline "T" on Friday but she insisted on driving. A car, eh? This was apparently not your usual poverty-stricken undergraduate. Yes, she was a senior, and me only a sophomore, and the way she dressed did not suggest food vouchers were part of her life, but I still was completely blown away when she showed up at the curb in front of my flat in a screaming red Porsche. 

Her smile - was it triumphant? taunting? - said it all. She was in charge - the BWOC, I then christened her in my head - the Big Wench On Campus. I hopped in the passenger seat, in a couple months she would likely have had the top down and her long dark hair flying in the breeze, but not yet, not now in early March. 

She drove fast, confidently, and I admit I envied her ride, wondered what it would be like on a nice winding mountain road, what kind of drift I could get out of the car with the stability control disabled. I watched her hand on the gearshift while we drove, imagining those adroit fingers with the black fingernail polish running up and down my penis. I licked my lips. 

It was a good dinner, although I confess to some panic at the prices on the menu. She laughed at my jokes, we each found out a bit more about each other. She was an only child, of an Anglo lawyer father and an Italian-American teacher mom, from mid-state. 

It didn't appear that money had been much of an issue growing up. She was studying economics, no clear career plans yet. Her eyes flashed at times while we talked, an erotic challenge sent straight my way.

When it was dessert time I sidled over next to her in her booth and found a way to spoon-feed her bits of the luscious creme brulee we were sharing. Watching her tongue take in the creamy dollops I piloted to her mouth was intoxicating. 

I had developed erotic plans for that tongue, that mouth with the soft big lips. She noticed my gaze and accurately read my mind, which I suppose was not all that difficult.

"You aiming to get into my shorts by any chance?" she asked, her face had a wry, amused smile.

"I think you would enjoy that as much as I would," I replied, a bit unaccustomed to this sort of directness but not afraid to send the ball straight back over the net. I tried to maintain a confident tone, and I certainly did not lack conviction. 

"Couple things you'll have to do before that will happen," she said, folding her hands in front of her, taking me a bit by surprise. 

"Although I am not necessarily adverse," she added, noting my somewhat unsettleed expression.

"You'll need a clean health report. The campus clinic can do this and have results within four or five days." Her brown eyes pierced me, unblinking.

This meant that tonight was perhaps not going to be an option. I flinched.

"Ah, but I have protection," I countered. "With me. No need." I patted my pant's back pocket.

She wrinkled up her face. "I hate condoms. And doesn't matter anyway, you will have to prove you are clear before anything happens." She stared at me evenly. "Pregnancy's not an issue but the other stuff is."

I should have gotten some idea then how this all was going to play out, all the different angles that would be worked, how I would get maneuvered around, but I was dumb stupid with desire. 

And sure, I went in my head, if she wants to fuck bareback, making sure we were safe, there was nothing wrong with that. She hadn't said "no" - in fact she seemed to think a little sex with me was a fine idea. I could not refuse. 

"Okay," I said with a confident smile. "You're on."

It turned out she was away for the rest of that weekend anyway, so my chances for some immediate excitement were not as great as I might have hoped, but we made a date for the next Friday. I sported an uncomfortable erection all week long just thinking about her, especially after I got the printed proof of my clean sexual condition on Thursday.

She had said 8:30, Friday evening, at her place. I contemplated bringing flowers or something and decided that was absurdly over the top, but I did take more care in showering and dressing than usual and stuck my toothbrush and a change of clothes in my backpack.

She lived in a suite with two other girls. She had said each of them had their own room, this intelligence had been imparted with a knowing glint in her eye. We wouldn't have to do the college roommate-in-the-way dance thing. Hot damn.

Her place was near campus, the second-floor flat of an old Victorian, a little rough around the edges but way nicer than any of my friends would have been able to afford. She greeted me with a short kiss and twinkling eyes at the street-level entrance. 

She was dressed exceedingly causally. She had on a pair of those loose pants that were in style, with soft, patterned fabric, almost like pajama bottoms. Her bulging rump looked luscious as I followed her up the narrow wooden stairs, her ass crack clearly defined as she went, the soft fabric clinging to her cheeks. 

Once inside I noted the short top that barely hung down over her balcony tits, you could just glimpse her navel from time to time in her soft belly as she walked about. Her boobs jiggled around enchantingly inside. Her hair was back in a ponytail. Just a little eye-shadow, but vibrant red lipstick. 

The place itself was comfortable enough, high narrow windows with a view out to the street and the winter bare-leafed trees, dark wood wainscoting. It was handsomely appointed by student standards. Trina led me to their large living room, with a couch, a big TV and some furniture.

I was surprised at the presence of other folks, although I knew she had roommates. Another guy was sitting at a table, it looked like he had been opposite Trina's vacated spot, but maybe he was one of the other girls' boyfriends. I heard female voices in another room.

"This is Jared," she said, and the guy stood up and shook my hand. Tall preppy-looking white guy, confident face, polo shirt and khakis. He looked studious, practical, straight-laced. He eyed me keenly, almost uncomfortably.

"Engineering?" I ventured. 

"Good guess," he smiled reluctantly. "You're right. Mechanical. And you?"

"Psychology," I replied.

We stood awkwardly for a moment.

"Your clinic report?" Trina finally asked, holding out a hand. It felt a little funny, but I took it out and passed it over to her, then noticed an identical form on the table next to Trina's spot. The name "Jared Williams" was on it.

I looked closely at her. What was up?

She laughed at my expression. 

"Asta? Roberta?" she called into the next room. "Would you all come in here when you get a chance?"

My mouth must have been open, but Trina went on as if nothing was amiss. "Get you a beer?" she asked. I nodded and she fetched me a Heineken, more upscale than usual for me. 

Asta and Roberta came in and we were introduced. I had seen Asta on campus, but Roberta was new to me. Asta looked Nordic, tall and almost too slender, with an angular face and thin narrow lips. Roberta was blonde and tightly built, like she rowed on crew. 

I was getting increasingly confused, this was not the scene I was expecting.

"So, thanks for coming," Trina addressed Jared and me. 

Jared and I exchanged a look. He appeared as undone as I was.

"It seems each of you has a notion of some intimacy with me, correct?" Trina looked closely at each of us. 

How else was I going to respond?

"Absolutely," I said with conviction.

"Wouldn't be here otherwise," Jared said but shifted tentatively on his feet. 

"Excellent!" Trina beamed. "So here is the deal, let me explain." The other two girls exchanged a smirk. 

"I have always liked contests," Trina began. "Game shows on TV, feats of skill, singing, dancing, fitness, speed, contests of all sorts. When I was thirteen I loved watching re-runs of the Dating Game, all that kind of kitschy stuff. Tonight will be 'Friday Night at Trina's'!"

Jared and I eyed each other. What were we supposed to do, jump up and down and scream "hurray"? Would we be stuck answering trivia questions all night?

"Tonight's winner gets to have me," she said, "although not tonight, for reasons which soon will become clear. I will be your grand prize and I guarantee the winner will not regret it." 

It turned out this last statement would not prove reliable. 

"So here's the deal, boys. Thanks for your clean bills of health," she pointed at the clinic forms. "I like the looks of both of you. I like sex even more." She ran her tongue along her upper lip. 

"You've cleared the first hurdle, proven yourselves clean. Now I want to get some measure of your, ah, stamina." She finished with a wave of a hand. 

"I take sex seriously and expect that you do too. We'll find out just how good you guys are, how well your pleasure equipment is constructed, and it will be great amusement all around."

My imagination was only just beginning to get some traction and I hoped I was wrong. 

Trina looked at her watch. "Quarter to nine it is. Whoever can come the most in the next two hours will be King of Friday night, Trina's new Best Friend. The Big Date will officially begin tomorrow for the lucky boy, enough time for rest and recovery and some first-class fun." 

I never considered it a good sign when someone referred to themselves in the third-person.

Jared and I looked at each other, bewildered. 

"You want us to jerk off in front of you?" asked Jared, taking a stab at the nature of our "contest."

"Seriously? And the guy who creams the most times is the winner?" His face grimaced in disbelief.

"No, no, no," Trina shook her head energetically, her pony tail went back and forth. 

"That's too easy and isn't necessarily indicative of how your penis will respond when someone else is stimulating it. I imagine you both know your own cocks extremely well, how to prolong your pleasure, how to come a lot and so on. I am well acquainted with the sex behaviors of adolescent males and cannot imagine either of you guys is any different. Tonight has to be handled under a more controlled environment."

"Each of you will take a seat in one of those chairs," she pointed to two reclining type seats in opposing corners of the living room. I noted that each had been covered with a clean sheet. My stomach did a bit of a somersault as things became clearer.

"My esteemed apartment-mates will take turns coaxing your excitement forth, and the guy who comes the most times in two hours, that's a reasonable amount of time for a good love session, he's The Man." She clapped her hands together like a ten year old girl at the circus.

My inner wise-guy couldn't resist. "Aren't you going to measure semen volume too? That ought to count for something." Trina shot me a look that was both intrigued and dismissive. 

"I care more about how many times a guy can get it up for me than the amount of sperm he squirts, to tell you the truth." She looked defiant.

"Gentlemen, take your places!" She waved her arms with a flourish, her tits swaying enchantingly. She sounded like a boxing referee. 

Jared and I looked at each other. I shrugged and we each went to a chair. We were about to sit down when Trina told us to disrobe, completely. 

This was totally odd, and of course Jared and I each stole surreptitious looks at each other while taking our clothes off, knowing that the girls were checking us out too. He had a nice body, I grant you, flat stomach, healthy looking shoulders, but I was more nervous than I wanted to let on. 

My penis is very small usually, until excitement hits it. Jared's prick looked a lot longer, it was uncut, which always makes a cock look bigger. It hung and waved nicely, but it is always so difficult to tell, maybe I would be bigger than him when we were both erect. In any event, there was nothing to do about it, and we sat back, buck naked in front of these three girls. Luckily the heat was cranked up in the room or we would have been uncomfortably cool on the fresh cotton sheets.

Asta came to my side, Roberta to Jared's. I noted with some alarm that each of them had a length of rope in their hands. 

"Put your arms behind you," commanded Trina.

"Huh? What the fuck is this, Trina?" I shot back. "What's the deal with trying to tie us up?" I was really pissed-off now.

"Hey relax, you big stud." Her eyes flashed. 

"There is no harm involved. We're not gonna hurt you. Anytime you want to leave, you say the word, we'll let you free. But that means a forfeit." Her eyes drifted to Jared meaningfully. "It turns out that it is just better all around if your hands are restrained behind you and you aren't tempted, at all, to 'help out' while your mighty member is being stroked by the girls."

In a flash and with a sinking feeling I realized that this was not the first time this little "contest" had been held here. I knew from earlier discussion that Trina's name was the primary on the lease, was this one way her suite-mates repaid some of their rent obligations? Or was this just a game they all enjoyed? I swallowed hard.

Trina stood hands on hips, glaring at me, waiting for a comeback. God, her chest looked nice. 

I cussed under my breath but put my hands behind me. Asta secured each wrist, looping the rope around the chair, not all that tightly, but enough so that I would neither be able to get off the chair without being untied, nor touch any part of my body with my hands. 

So in a couple minutes Jared and I were secured, and a pair of hands began to work over each of our cocks. Asta was soft, slow, but given the situation it really didn't take long before I was hard. Jared took a little longer under Roberta's fingers, and I was relieved that fully erect we both looked to be about the same size. His cockhead had poked free from his foreskin, it looked smooth, red, arrow-shaped.

Trina had a gleam in her eyes. She went to a desk in the corner, opened a drawer and came back with a leather-covered notebook and a cloth tape measure.


Katrina Thompson, Trouble Ch. 01



She silently handed the tape measure to Asta and opened her notebook.

Asta measured me in two dimensions, first by holding the tape from the upper root of my penis to the tip.

"Just short of six inches. Say five and seven-eighths." I could have been in the doctor's office. She then put the tape around and just under my glans for my circumference. "Five and a quarter."

Trina put this info down in her notebook.

Asta with the flick of a hand tossed the tape over to Roberta. 

Jared was five and a half inches long, five and an eighth around. I edged him out but we were pretty darn close.

It wasn't until later that I figured out that Trina, in general, didn't care two figs about penis size at all, that the main purpose of this little exercise was to put her suitors back on their heels a bit, let them know that their vital records existed in her personal archive, remind them who was running the show. It wasn't quite humiliation, but close.

I would love to tell you that I thoroughly enjoyed the next two hours, the ejaculations, the whole scene, but I didn't, it was fraught with anxiety. Although if you had mentioned to me when I was a fourteen-year old, hormone-ravaged adolescent, that one day at college two handsome girls would take turns stroking my cock to climax, that would have blown my wildest wet-dreams completely out of the water.

But this was competition, serious competition, and I was not about to lose out to some tall, overly-practical, constipated engineering student. I belonged in Trina's arms, her thighs wrapped around my hips, my penis thrust up her notch and doing lovely things to the insides of her channel. This made for laser-focus concentration for me this evening, not pleasure. 

So my first task was to alter the house-odds, however slightly. 

"May I ask you something?" I addressed Trina. 

Trina gave me a wary look, like a prison guard considering the request for a last cigarette from an inmate about to be executed.

"What could you possibly want?" she snapped, not quite tapping her feet in impatience. 

"Two items, one a question about the rules."

She looked at me evenly, arching her eyebrows. "Yes?"

"All right Trina, so I get the idea, but what if we each ejaculate the same number of times? How are you going to have a winner then?" I had concerns about the outcome.

"No problem," said Trina matter-of-factly. "If it's just twice, and that has happened before, the winner is just the one who came twice first." She stopped. "Well, that doesn't sound right, but you know what I mean. Got it all figured out, you guys don't need to worry about the rules. It's simple - get hard as fast as you can after a spurt, and then erupt again. As many times as you can. Just go for it!"

It was clear that two ejaculations she considered to be the bare minimum level of performance.

"Second item," I began. "Could I ask for something that almost certainly will improve the overall outcome, not in the spirit of giving me any edge or anything, but increasing the chances of superior performance from both your, ah, contestants?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?"

"Would you all, the three of you, be kind enough to remove your clothing, or at least your tops? That would be a great enhancement. Surely an aid to performance at this end..." I wagged my stiff prick from side to side.

The three of them exchanged questioning looks, their surprised smiles revealing the novelty of the request.

Asta was the first to reply, "That's fine, I see no worries. Just my top though. Lower parts are only for boyfriend eyes."

The other girls nodded, and Trina, I have to say, looked pleased. Of course she was going to dominate.

So Jared and I were treated to the sight of the three of them removing shirts and brassieres. I held my breath as Trina's breasts tumbled out of her bra, they were better in person than any image my overheated mind could have possibly produced. Heavy, big at their ends, nice large dark circles around her nipples. Mouthwatering.

Jared shot me the first and last smile he would direct my way that evening, grateful for my impulsive suggestion.

Asta had sharp, firm breasts - they looked like those miniature footballs me and my buds used to toss around when we were seven-years old and couldn't grip a full-size football easily. They were about the same size, a good small handful each, but they poked out from her chest defiantly, like mini-torpedoes. 

Roberta had a tight, firm chest, no crease under her boobs. Nice nipples, dark and thick. I exhaled, things were already better.

So Asta resumed her stroking. It was nice, actually, once I got over the silly nature of the whole contest, although I never quite relaxed, knowing the stakes, and my competitive instincts were not going to let me lose out to the damn engineer on the other side of the room.

I knew I could ejaculate twice in two hours, even if the girls weren't that adept at doing handjobs (although at this point I was pretty sure that wasn't going to be a problem.) But three times? That might be a stretch. And Jared was a totally unknown variable.

But Asta's fingers were running up and down my shaft, while her other hand was busy kneading my balls. There were worse things. 

I looked over and saw Roberta tending to Jared, his prick hard and pointing straight up, foreskin sliding up and down. Not for the first time in my life I wondered if masturbating with foreskin was somehow better or different than handling a circumcised cock. 

Trina's eyes were shining. She looked at each of us with extreme interest, although she never made eye contact with either of us, her gaze was directed at our stiff, stimulated members. 

I have to say it was quite the sight. Two erect cocks, heading towards a climax, being pulled around by two topless girls. And the big-chested Queen was strutting around the room, a smile never leaving her lips as she enjoyed her Friday night penis-show.

Before long my prick was giving out signals of imminence however. Asta had her fingers swirling around the head of my cock, and my nerve endings were going off with enthusiasm. Jared's hips were also squirming around, his abs starting to contract. 

I didn't want to think that I was getting aroused by watching him get close, but I was. It looked nice. It appeared Roberta was enjoying herself more than Asta, who had a more clinical approach towards me. I was happy to be getting Roberta next. 

But then a whole pile of anxiety started to set in, just as I was closing in on my orgasm. So alright, Roberta does me next, but that meant Asta for number three. Would three do it? Would Jared prove better at this absurd, contrived challenge? 

Maybe he was a chaste type, and his gun hadn't gone off in three weeks, and he had seven quarts of sperm pressure built up inside his balls and would be erupting four times in two hours. I was suddenly pissed off at myself for masturbating in my bed Tuesday night, thinking of Trina the whole time, not realizing that I had inadvertently been putting a dent into my Sperm Stamina Index. 

But it didn't matter at the time, I felt my balls building up their insistent hydraulic pressure, and then with a mighty series of grunts my anus clenched and my hips bucked and I sent my sperm forth. Asta got a good pile of it out of me, she thankfully wasn't the type of girl to stop stroking once the first spurt began, but kept running her now slippery fingers over me, pulling on my shaft while I sent my five or six blasts up on to my stomach.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jared looking at me. It was hard to read his expression, I am sure one part was annoyance that I came first, although that might or might not prove to be an advantage. In any event, he was not far behind and I saw him eject an impressive quantity of semen up on himself, good strong sticky spurts launched up to his nipples at the farthest. Roberta had aimed him pretty well. She looked good at this, a pleased expression on her face as she continued to milk him, her hands a fucking mess of sperm. 

Trina was hopping about with pleasure - big smile, happy eyes. 

"Half an hour boys, it's only quarter after nine! Woo, hoo! Plenty more semen to come!" I could have swatted her. 

So our dicks fairly rapidly deflated. Neither of us wanted any stimulation afterward, of course, so we begged off any attention. I wondered if the girls were going to clean us up or not, but they didn't. They wiped their hands on our bodies, then went to wash up in the bathroom, while Trina came over to each of us to inspect the gooey puddles of sperm scattered around our torsos. 

As she examined the sperm collected in my navel, I made another request.

"I don't suppose I could get you to dangle your breasts in my face? Smack me a couple times with those sweet melons of yours? I would love to lick those gorgeous nipples. That'll hasten the second round, guaranteed." The thought of this made my depleted dick give a little quiver. 

She looked at me, vaguely amused.

"You'll maybe get your chance later. But I am saving myself for the winner." She made this last assertion almost sound virtuous. 

The girls returned and idly began to play with our pricks again. They were soft and pliable, it took awhile before any life returned to either of our cocks.

This time Trina fetched a bottle of lubricant and gave each of us a dousing.

"Don't want any rope-burn," she said. Thanks for thinking of us, Queen Big Chest.

I was trying to figure out whether it was a good idea to flirt with Roberta a bit, see if I could influence her enthusiasm at all. Her hands were quite different on my penis than Asta's, she was more deliberate in her motions, not as gentle. I didn't mind this, but thought that some interaction between us might hasten my second coming. "Just like Jesus!" I laughed under my breath.

But it might be a bit dangerous if I did flirt, I wasn't sure how Trina would take this, and I was, after all, over here on Trina's account. I decided to stay neutral: safe and conservative. 

I elected to entertain myself just enjoying the sight of the topless girls in the room, watching how Asta's boobs jiggled while she handled Jared, how sweet Roberta's nipples looked, but most of all, every movement that Trina's chest made as she walked about, viewing us from different angles. I vowed to make them the inspiration for my second ejaculation. 

Although it took awhile, some stiffness finally began to return to my penis. All oiled up, the feelings of pleasure started to settle in and I manufactured fantasies about what kinds of things I might be able to do with Trina's tits, whether I could plow her field of melons, rub my balls over her nipples, suck her teats, rub them, tease them, make her horny. 

I was further along than Jared, and perhaps by virtue of my imagination, I was able to produce another sperm launch before him. The volume was nowhere near the first, the sperm just oozed out of my cock this time without a whole lot of pressure, Roberta using her well oiled fingers along my cockhead and rubbing my balls. I liked her expression when I finally came, a hint of triumph in her face. 

The best thing going on for me at this point was that Jared looked more worried than I.

I was glad for a break, and my prick retreated rapidly. I watched Jared struggle with his climax, his cock did not possess the hundred-percent hardness necessary to produce a powerful ejaculation, but I also knew you didn't have to be ramrod-hard to come. 

Minutes and minutes of stroking went by, Jared looking increasingly anxious. His penis flopped around only half-hard, I almost thought that Asta might be getting a bit frustrated that her work wasn't producing any results. Then it occurred to me that we were supposed to trade off our hand-job handmaidens, and if Jared never came, I would be without my allotted attendant. And this didn't seem fair.

I thought about voicing this objection but decided not to. According to Trina's interpretation of the rules, I would be champ regardless since my second climax occurred earlier than Jared's. As long as my rival was struggling, I would just sit back, see if this sight might make a positive impact on my hoped-for third erection, and be ready when Asta was. She was getting the lion's share of the workload tonight, however, I chuckled to myself. I wondered if she calculated the duration of her night in "penis contact minutes."

Finally Jared's penis went off with a weak sickly oozing of sperm, his face contorted and not all that happy looking. This was the first time when I figured with some certainty I would pull out a victory. My penis had potential for another eruption, but I was convinced Jared was done. 

The girls took a break and cleaned up. I laid back, my eyes on Trina and her majestic chest. Oh, I was going to enjoy her all right. 

The last round, predictably, took forever. Jared never really got ejaculation-hard again, although I did. I watched Asta attend to me, my prick all oiled up, and I did manage a last feeble eruption, my hips bucking with minimal force, but a third thin stream of sperm slopped out of my cockhead, a happy smile on my face. 

Roberta kept working on Jared, but it looked hopeless. Trina kept checking her watch and finally signaled an end to the contest. 

We were released and got dressed, and Jared departed, tail between his legs (sagging dick between his legs?) without even a kiss from the Queen. 

I wanted to hang around, but Trina urged me home.

"Get a good night's rest!" she said, after a long-tongue probing kiss at the top of the stairs on the way out and a playful grab of my ass. 

"Tomorrow!"

I went back to the pad spent, my penis soft and limpid but vaguely happy. Good things were on the agenda upcoming.



Katrina Thompson, Trouble Ch. 02



Best enjoyed if you read Part One first. 

*****

Our first week together was the most chaotic, unnerving, cataclysmic, sybaritic, sublime seven days I have ever had. There has not been anything like it before or since. 

Trina, upon my leaving that Friday night, my balls drained and frankly most uncomfortable, had made me promise to meet her at the university library the next night, Saturday, at eight, an hour before it closed. 

If she had said the back pew at St. John's, the nearby Catholic church, I would have been no less surprised, but I would have gone there too, if that is what she wanted. It remained a puzzling choice, I had seen no evidence that Trina did much library work, or even did any study in general.

But we met at the big front doors of the great temple of knowledge, at the top of the wide marble steps, her eyes dancing with pleasure when she spotted me, right on time. She wore her leather jacket, her dark mane of hair wild and loose. 

"Chris! Excellent! This will be perfect!" She kissed me, hard, and took my hand and led me inside. The university library is an imposing affair, a turn-of-the-century majestic stone edifice, multi-storied, windows all over, but with plenty of nooks and marvelous crannies for study carrels and quiet reading spots.

She led me down dark, narrow passage-ways, along book-lined aisles, through the labyrinth of learning until we were in territory that I recognized. This was the "HQ" section, the classification area that the United States' national Library of Congress, in all its wisdom, deemed suitable for collecting together all sorts of material related to the topic of sex. She led me down one aisle and stopped in the middle.

My area of study mostly meant using a different part of the library, psychology is generally in the "BF" range, but I had come to this remote secluded area more than once, for both educational and personal reasons. 

As Stash said, "Lotta exciting books there!" and he often came back to our flat with "HQ" items from the library. At first glance, judging by the photos, one might have called these items pornography, but instead they were "academic" research books. But naturally Stash wasn't doing academic research with those books.

"You know this part of the library?" Trina turned to face me, looking into my eyes. 

"Sure, this is the area on sexual matters. Arousal, sexual pathologies, masturbation, gay sex, male and female sexual behaviors. I'm a psych major after all."

She smiled. "My favorite part of the library." She squeezed my hand.

She turned and gazed at the various titles around us. My eyes followed hers.

"See that book up on the top shelf?" She pointed. "HQ71.B351?"

I tilted my head and squinted at the title. "Sexual Deviance?" She nodded. 

"Would you reach it for me?" she asked a bit breathlessly. 

This was a silly request of course, she was nearly as tall as I was. I had retrieved items off top shelves when asked before, but it was mostly for the under five-foot-five crowd. But I smiled and complied, stretching up my right arm.

In a flash she was on her knees in front of me, excitedly unbuttoning my pants, fishing my penis out of my undershorts. 

Before I could even return with the book, her soft mouth was on the head of my penis, and she began an eager, serious suck. Book in hand, I leaned my back against the shelves, and felt her warm, enthusiastic mouth work me over. 

Her tongue tickled the head of my penis, slid around my glans, licked the underside of my shaft while she held it erect with one hand, licked around and under my balls. It was extraordinary, sudden, intense. Her mouth could win awards the way it operated. 

I do not think I have ever had my cock attacked so fiercely, so energetically. My head was dizzy with pleasure, looking down at her taking me deep, her tongue moving along the head of my cock. 

The possibility that someone could walk by the end of the aisle and glimpse us between the bookcases and see exactly what was going on, the fact that we were in the corner of the library devoted to "sex," that this was our first instance of intimacy - all of it was vastly exciting. That along with the realization that it was Trina Thompson doing the sucking, this sizable wet-dream of a siren whose presence had dominated my thoughts for the last two weeks, now making arousing acquaintance with my penis. 

Her tongue did marvelous things to the head of my cock, sliding along its surface, the tip pressing into my piss-slit, then dawdling over my cockhead's tantalized ridge-line. I loved the way her lips cupped my prickhead, gliding softly, wetly, along its surface. 

It did not take real long, despite my multiple ejaculations the day before. My penis was intensely excited, her tongue inquisitive and active, and the nerve endings of my cock were telling me that we were just at the precipice of something amazing. 

Her head bobbed, I watched her hair move about with her energetic motions, her focus completely on my prick. My hips started moving of their own volition, my ass cheeks clenching, I felt my testicles building up an unstoppable pressure. 

I came real hard, she pulled a good strong urgent load of sperm out of me, my hips bucking frantically at the end, shaking the bookcase, while I drove my penis into her mouth, long slow ass-clenchings at the end while I sent the last of my semen down her throat. 

And then I saw a satisfied lewd look on her face when she gazed up at me afterward. A smile of pleasure, as her throat contracted and she swallowed. Her lips glistened with an thin overcoat of semen-slime on top of her red lip-stick. And I knew then that she would be having a lot of my sperm from now on. That knowledge made my hips give an extra shudder of enjoyment.

It was one of the most explosive climaxes I had ever experienced, certainly the most unexpected. The pleasure that she took with me, the way she made my cock feel special, not just that she was cock-hungry, but wanted me, my penis - all of this suggested an enthralling beginning to our affair.

We walked back to her place holding hands, my groin happy and warm. It was always her place during our time together, never mine. We had some brandy together at the living room table before heading to bed. 

Her bedroom had dark wood trim around windows and edge-sills, and she left a low light on to gently illuminate the scene. Her bed was an antique brass affair, meticulously made with a quilt and colorful pastel pillows.

She disrobed me, carefully, and then had me do her, one article of clothing at time. I gasped repeatedly as I undressed her, not quite ready to believe her charms were now mine to explore. Her breasts spilled marvelously free from her brassiere when I unhooked it. I felt that the gates of heaven had opened to me.

When all the clothes were off, we stood and looked at each other. I trembled at what I saw. Her magnificent breasts, broad curved hips, her expectant face. We embraced and I ran my fingers over her full, firm haunches. A kiss and she led me by the hand, regally, commandingly, seductively, to her bed.

We climbed under the covers and began that initial exploration, always both an exciting and tentative business for new lovers. We kissed, I traced the contours of her breasts, tweaked her nipples erect, felt the curve of her flanks, stroked her asscheeks. On her part, her fingers slid lightly over my penis, underneath my balls, along my sides.

I couldn't decide whether I wanted to try to first lick her crotch or penetrate her straight away. I settled on the first, more because I wanted a good close-up look of her cunt, and an initial taste and smell.

She had a fair amount of crotch hair. I would learn later that she regarded shaving as a "pain in the butt" and claimed that her dark thick hair follicles were "tough as tungsten." So mostly she was only fastidious about shaving and trimming during bikini season in warm weather, which was not for a few months. 

But she smelled good, her coarse hair veiling two very thick and fleshy outer lips, which split appealingly to reveal a stunningly handsome inside set, and a cute little love nub. I licked, I probed, I tasted, I smelled. All was intoxicating. 

Her fingers caressed my head while I tongued her. She fondled my earlobes, toyed with my temples and cheeks. 

But I wanted to be up her.

I pulled up on top of her and got into position. With one hand she helped guide my penis home, a slow, luxurious slide up that wet, beckoning avenue.

We kissed. It was divine. We barely moved at first, my penis nerves just registering the warmth and dampness of its new sheath. Then she gave me a squeeze and we were off.

It was actually good that I had already ejaculated once, it meant this first coupling might well be more prolonged than usual. 

We drew it out impressively, given our arousal. I uncunted several times, she sucked me and played with my balls, doing her own exploration, while I watched her head move over me, my fingers running through her hair. 

We were playful, experimental. I slid up her, stayed for awhile, slowly urging my hips into hers, gauging what pleased her, what felt good to me, then tried some different way to produce and prolong our enjoyment. 

I have never had such an extended first-acquaintance fuck with a new lover. My tongue returned to her notch, and I gave her one climax, her hips shaking violently with her hands clamped on each side of my head in an involuntary grip, before I entered her again for a final time.

This one was a beauty. She was wet and excited, and her cunt gripped me lovely. I was pushing fast early, our mouths entwined, tongues poking around, her hands on my ass, urging me on.

She disengaged her mouth with a little sigh, and I felt her hips roll into me, then a series of mighty clenches to my prick while she came. 

She exhaled loudly, low primal sounds, while her hips quivered and I kept driving into her. I was close behind, my sperm pressure highly advanced from the long delay of arousal, and I pumped a good satisfying load of semen into her, my anus squeezing shut repeatedly, my hips frantically urging my prick into her. 

I stayed on top and we kissed. It felt like home. 

Finally I rolled off and we gathered ourselves into a comfortable embrace for sleep. My head whirled, I had just been sucked off in the library by this love goddess, then impaled her in bed with my insistent cock, made her climax twice. All was good. Sleep was like a little dab of whipped cream on top, a sweet luxury ending to an enchanting night of pleasure.

We made make love every day that first week, and generally there was more than one climax for each of us. I have to say that I was astounded at her appetite.

We fucked regular, face to face. She sucked me, a lot. I ate her out, a lot. An hour of foreplay was generally a short session. We did sixty-nine. I humped her from behind, absolutely delirious in the way my hips would slap into her meaty ass. 

I spermed her mouth. I spermed her sweet gripping cunt, with its big lips and powerful muscles, sometimes twice an evening. One time I even spermed her cleavage. It was all incredible. I had hit the mother lode.

After our first night, it seemed that whenever we coupled face to face, she was on top. I did not mind this initially, it was great fun when she dangled her breasts into my face or slapped me with them when she was over me.

Her tits lived up to every bit of mouthwatering anticipation I had generated. They were not just big, they had personality. I loved looking at them from any angle. Sitting on a couch with her shirt off, they settled sublimely on her rib-cage, splaying off to each side. 

When walking around her apartment topless or braless they swayed enchantingly. In our showers together, I loved how the soap and water flowed over and off them. I tried to imagine Trina doing a push-up naked, and the thought just made me bust up. She would have had exactly two inches of movement when bending her elbows before her nipples would have touched the floor. 

Meaty, her breasts had heft to them, with lovely dark circles around her nipples, little mini-bumps all over her areolae. Every other woman I have been with, when they were hovering over me on top while fucking, their breasts, even if large, always turned into cones. These might have been steep and narrow cones, or wider, broader ones, but still they always seemed to taper down, the nipple always ended up being the point, the bottom of the cone. 

With Trina, all the weight seemed to sink to their ends, and I had these two rounded pendulous orbs in front of me. She enjoyed twisting her torso suddenly, smacking me in the face with their heavy ends when she was on top of me. If I wasn't paying attention I could get clocked pretty good, like I had been hit on the side of my face with a bean-bag. Her little giggles as she tormented me with her boobs and ground her cunt into me were highly arousing. 

Her ass was similarly alluring. It was large, rounded, firm. In fact all her flesh was meaty, it wasn't like she was fat, her body just was dense. Everything had heft. I loved caressing her ass when she was lying face down, tracing its curves with my fingers, kissing it all over. 

And taking her from behind was superb. I would do her doggie-style, a pillow under her middle, her knees out to the side and rump elevated, plunging my penis into her cunt and humping my hips noisily into her ass. She'd finger herself to a climax while I drove into her, or sometimes I would position myself on top of her back and slip my own finger down there myself to do her notch. Despite my impassioned entreaties, she wouldn't go the next step and do anal, 

I have to say that no one else had let me sodomize them either, not like I had had a huge sample size with whom to experiment, and I guess this will have to wait for someone else, but I figured if anyone would have been up for this, it would have been Trina. She'd let me stick a finger up her anus or lick her there but made it very clear my penis would never be granted harbor inside her rectum.

Drawbacks that first week? Very few. She snored. I usually didn't mind. If I woke up before her in the morning I would listen to her, and watch her chest rise and fall with her noisy breathing. When she slept on her back, her sharp little nose would point straight up, her mouth open, great deep sounds coming from inside her. Of course I got to see her tits sooner or later after she awoke, and that pretty much made up for any noise annoyances. 

My balls ached. I don't think I have ever divested myself of as much semen with someone as I did that first week with her. I had to make sure I kept myself well hydrated. I had to be careful about alcohol. Anything more than a beer or a glass of wine and my stamina would get dinged, and I felt like I couldn't afford that. 

My dick didn't ever get sore, but man it got in a pile of work. 

One of my lesser pleasures that whole time was leaving her place in early daylight with the tart sultry taste of her cunt in my mouth. It reminded me of where my tongue had been, what it had done, how her fluids had leaked into my mouth. I could smell her on me most of the morning, until I took a shower. Her scent would prod my groin into an involuntary shudder during the day, knowing that more pleasure was coming later. 

Our second week together I later decided was our "chess match" week. Individually we spent our time in attempts to out-maneuver each other to prevail with our own particular desires. She did way better than me, but I got in a few victories. Most of the leveraging was about how we were going to have sex, whether she sucked me first, or I ate her out first, or how many times and ways I would mount her that particular evening. 

It was almost impossible to get around a corner on her, out-flank her. She was quick and cunning and usually had a good counter to whatever plan I proposed. She would make one hell of a good contract negotiator. 

I got her to suck in me in a elevator in a downtown skyscraper once, that was excellent. On the ride up, once we were alone in the elevator after the last passengers had departed, she stroked my penis through my clothes until I was hard. At the lookout points on the top floor as we wandered around scanning the views, she kept finding ways to keep me on edge, stealthily caressing me through my pants even when other people were around, so that by the time we were ready to descend, I was ready to cream. 

She took me in her mouth on the ride down, and we just managed to finish before getting off on the ground floor, a pile of folks waiting when the door finally opened, my pants just barely zipped up and her gullet filled with sperm. I was sure the stupid grin in my face gave our little adventure away, but we breezed out carelessly, and then laughed like maniacs once we got to the street. 

One of my few other proposals to prevail was getting Trina to jump-rope topless. That was quite the sight. I borrowed Nigel's jump-rope from his training paraphernalia and brought it over one evening. I was able to insist that she complete a whole two-minute, uninterrupted cycle of jumping. 

Her tits were tremendous, the way they flew up in the air and then jounced down, their curves flattening out and then their heft flying off to the side in mesmerizing elliptical arcs, over and over again as she hopped up and down. She hadn't used a jump-rope since she had been a little girl, so luckily for me it took many tries before she got in a full two minutes solid. I wish I had had a camcorder, that would have made for one great film-clip. 

On the other hand, what I had to do to "pay" for this little request wasn't so pleasant. Trina stroked my dick hard, then I had to jump-rope two whole minutes naked with my stiff cock banging up and down. She was grinning like a banshee the whole time. 

At least I was able to do my whole two minutes on the first try, but it was plenty uncomfortable. My prickhead felt like it weighed five pounds and it would slap into my belly on the way up, then bob down most painfully on the landing. It really hurt. I am glad I don't have a cam recording of that. My prick still hurts when I think about it. 

We talked about sex non-stop. Our first orgasms, our first lovers in high school, our favorite fantasies. The protein content of semen. The fact that the word "boob" was a palindrome. Why sexual arousal was the best thing in the world. I had never met a woman so obsessed with sex. The horizon expanded into an infinitude of orgiastic bliss.

Her first boyfriend was named Nikky. She described him as short and skinny and they made an odd looking pair together. Trina said it took him forever to get up the nerve for a first kiss, but luckily not so long before he was fondling her breasts whenever they found a furtive clandestine chance, figuring out how to unhook her bra with one hand up the back of her shirt, twiddling her nipples. 

They coupled the first time just a couple months after they got together, both of them were fifteen. She spoke of him fondly, how nice his penis was, how much she enjoyed getting him aroused, how much fun it was to learn about lovemaking together. There had been a whole pile of other boyfriends after Nikky. She had had no difficulty attracting ardent males.

That second week also provided the first sign of difficulties. It began when I committed a cardinal sin, only I didn't know it was a cardinal sin at the time. 

I had come inside her, she had been on top, and after she had rolled off and we snuggled, I had fallen asleep before getting her to come a second time. She had already climaxed once, don't mistake it, but she wanted another and I was beat, to tell the truth, and drifted off before she had been satisfied. 




Katrina Thompson, Trouble Ch. 02



I woke up the next morning to the sight of her glaring at me.

"Chris Montana, you owe me," she said, eyes blazing, before I was even entirely conscious. "Don't you ever fall asleep on me during sex again!"

I argued my case, pleaded fatigue, pointing out how much we had copulated that week, and that weekend in particular, that she had already climaxed and I was just exhausted, not to take it personally, all of that. None of it mattered to her. 

"I want your tongue up my cunt right now, or you're never gonna have another orgasm by me, ever!"

I got up to pee and came back, and twiddled her cunt with my fingers and slipped my tongue up her notch to produce two good strong climaxes before breakfast. My penis was rock hard with excitement and I tried to get her to take me in her mouth or let me mount her but she refused. 

"We're even now, I will see about later." Her eyes flashed.

I had an uncomfortably hard penis the whole day until later that evening when I came over after dinner. We made love, twice, and things seemed back to normal, but I was still struck by the magnitude of her displeasure that morning. 

I developed a routine for our time together the first week and it mostly continued the whole time. I almost always would come to her place after dinner. I tried to get my course-work done during the day, but it got neglected. I had a hard time concentrating on cognitive developmental theory when my mind kept generating pictures of her round bulging ass or her chest, or her mouth around my penis. 

Before heading to her flat, I would stuff my backpack at my place with a change of clothes and anything I would need for the first class of the next day. When a break opened during the day I would dash to my place to get whatever else I needed, and then came back later for dinner and another resupply. My suite-mates barely saw me, usually only around dinnertime, and they looked at me sidewise while I came and went. Trina's name did not come up once. 

In order to try to keep up my studies, I stopped going to the gym and joining my mates for our bi-weekly basketball games. It felt like people on campus sometimes looked at me oddly. Many times a conversation would begin, "Chris, I have barely seen you lately..."

My whole life seemed to have shifted to Trina and her apartment.

Around her flat in the evening, she tended to wear a short red top that just barely hung down over her tits. It was especially nice without a bra, you could get glimpses of her under-boobs as she moved about. It was crimson red, had the word "TITS" spelled out in large white lettering in front, as if you couldn't identify what was behind the blazing red fabric. 

When wearing it she especially liked answering the door when the pizza delivery guy knocked, watching his eyes go wide as he stammered and took her money. I got a kick out of watching them down at the bottom of the stairs, the guy looking up at me and trying like hell not to stare at her chest.

I asked her where she got such an outrageous shirt. Her eyes gleamed. 

"Let me show you." She pulled out a catalog, crammed full of pictures of thongs, little tit-tops, tee-shirts with salacious sayings, bondage-wear and so on. "I call it my 'slut catalog'," she said with a leer.

I had a blast paging through it, imagining my new busty lover in various items. I asked if I could buy her something. She gave me a sly smile and nodded lecherously, but I couldn't get her to chose, she said I had to.

I picked out an abbreviated leather corset affair, with laces in the back, one of those dominatrix-like things that cinched her waist but left her tits free to flounce over the top. It would ride above her hips so her crotch could be bare, or maybe in just a thong. I figured wearing just that, maybe with some high black leather riding boots, which I knew were in her closet, she would make for a dynamite sight. It was not cheap, but I didn't care. Hot damn. I couldn't wait to see her in it. 

I learned a lot about bras in my time with Trina. She had dozens of them, every color, and every possible (it seemed to me) function. She had what she called her "garden variety" bras, which I knew fairly well, these where mostly what my high school girlfriends wore, and plenty of my college liaisons. But she also had cleavage-enhancing bras that squashed her breasts together to make for a breathtaking sight. 

She had bras that were cut away around the top edges, so you could see more of her breasts when she was wearing a low-cut gown, for example. She had "push-up" bras that were truly mouthwatering - with those on she could barely hug me, they made her beasts stand in the way, as if we had a thick pillow between us. She said they were uncomfortable and made her back ache. I could imagine this, and she didn't wear them very often. But they looked awesome.

She even had "flattener" bras that served more or less to bind her breasts into her rib-cage, minimizing her chest, as if that were possible. I looked puzzled when she described them. "Why would you want to downplay your stunning chest?" I asked. She replied that some day she might need to do a job interview, in a business suit, and maybe when she was talking to management types or the hiring committee, she might not want to look like "the uber slut" - that was the phrase she used. Okay, whatever. But the whole breast-restraint collection took up an entire drawer in her wardrobe.

She would let me remove her bras at home often, one of those small tasks that I came to look forward to every night, with drooling anticipation. I loved the smell of her under-boobs, even if sweaty, maybe even especially when sweaty. 

One of my few honored requests was getting her to go bra-free most evenings at her place, once we had returned from whatever public areas we had visited. Once I even got her to go braless to a campus basketball game. She got more looks than if Jennifer Lawrence had wandered into the gym. 

Trina wore a light blue cashmere sweater. Her nipples poked out magnificently, and the soft thin fabric of her sweater flowed with every movement of her chest. I felt like some Grand Archduke of Austria-Hungary with her on my arm, envious eyes on me, no doubt imagining what kinds of wonderful things could happen playing with those breasts released from her sweater. Heads turned to follow us - her - wherever we went. 

We left early and had the most amazing coupling afterward, my cock was insta-hard by the time we got back to her pad.

I wanted to plow her cleavage with my cock, and I was allowed to do this for awhile, sliding my prick up and down her valley while she held her tits together. She extended her tongue and made sure to lick my prickhead when I pushed all the way forward. 

But she flipped us over, too soon, into a sixty-nine. She always wanted to be on top for this position, pushing her cunt down into my face while she sucked me. In the midst of an orgasm, she sometimes would almost suffocate me, smashing her cunt completely into my face, sometimes covering my nose with the violence of her climax, her fat wet lips managing to engulf my whole face, her thick thighs squeezing together on my head like a vice. She leaked a lot of her fluids onto me, I always had to wipe myself off with a towel after she came with her sloppy wet cunt planted on my face. 

She came hard this night, rested a short time on me, her body heavy and completely limp, while I continued to probe her innards with my tongue, then she gathered herself to suck me beautifully. 

I couldn't see her, only feel her lips moving up and down my cock. My hips drove into as best I could at the end, my balls cupped in her hand, doing lovely things while I thrust home, her randy crotch smell infusing my nostrils. We slept like the dead that night, our energy completely expended.

Our third week together was "fight week." It got so it took almost nothing for her to start in me. Early on in the first week she had started criticizing various minor habits of mine: noisy eating, not being careful enough in my appearance, the kinds of shoes I wore. This escalated.

She started calling me "limp dick" when I was too fatigued to fuck her three times in a night. My balls were aching, I never thought I would ever not want to copulate but her libido was relentless. We had to make love at least once a day, and she needed two climaxes minimum before she was happy. Sometimes I could use my fingers or mouth to bring her off, but sometimes she would only be content if I fucked her to orgasm. 

One time I got tired of being called "limp dick" so I called her a "fat slut." Things got ugly. 

She managed to personalize her insults. What started out as a simple "limp dick" turned into "Chris limp dick," or once "Chris Montana, cunt depriver." It was sharp, cruel, completely unnecessary.

About the only good thing about that week was that after we fought, assuming I didn't stalk off in a rage, which only happened once, after calming down we then would have the most amazing, high-energy sex. It was almost like our anger transmuted itself into a powerful sexual vortex. She was apt to be loud then, she liked saying "fuck me hard!" during those sessions, or "make me come!" I had no idea what her suite-mates thought about all this noise coming from her bedroom. 

It was also the start of some rough sex we started to have. Nothing serious, but we would wrestle on the bed sometimes, angling for position, holding wrists and arms firmly in place. She slapped my ass a couple times, hard, and I returned the favor, leaving red welts on her big cheeks. But she liked it, it was very intense. 

We twisted nipples, nipped necks with our teeth. A couple times I mounted her hard, on top for once, pushing violently into her and she loved it, holding my ass cheeks in a death grip, her nails digging into my flesh and leaving marks later while I pounded her into a soggy, sated mass of well-pleasured flesh. 

On our third Sunday together I had convinced her to turn the TV on while the Celtics were playing. We were sitting in the living room, her suite-mates were out. It was nice to have the place to ourselves. Trina wasn't much of a sports fan, and I had only convinced her reluctantly to have the game on. To get back at me she kept talking about what she would do with the dicks of the various Celtic players. 

"See that guy?" she said, pointing to Kevin Garnett. "I bet he's got a good fat juicy eight-inch cock. Maybe more." She pretended to drool and licked her lips. 

"I'd make him come four times a night, easy. A nice hard black cock on a seven foot guy? That's something special. He'd fuck me good with that thick dick. I loved to be stretched wide," she said, wiggling her hips from side to side, like she did this all the time. Maybe she did. 

Normally I didn't mind this sort of thing, although I wasn't allowed to fantasize out-loud about other girls, but after awhile it started getting on my nerves. 

I was sitting on the couch on the other side of the room of the TV while she had gone to fetch a couple beers. I had, or at least thought I had, a retort to her endless penis ruminations on the various players. A cock in hand is always worth two in the bush, I figured, although it occurred to me this was not quite the right phrasing. 

I pulled my penis out of my pants and stroked it into a suitably stiff condition while she was in the kitchen. When she returned with beers and some chips I was ready for her, my penis poking straight up out of my jeans.

She had a randy look on her face, after she put the stuff down and sat next to me, running her fingers over my penis. Felt great. I no longer had any interest in the game.

"Come and get it," I leered. I wanted her on her knees in front of me, sucking me off. I spread my legs wide and tried to get her down between my thighs.

I got a look from her I never had seen before, I couldn't quite identify it. Not quite revulsion, or disgust, but it was clear she didn't want to kneel in front of me.

"Come on, suck me Trina, put your head in my crotch and take me to town. You can even pretend it's one of the basketball players if you want, I don't care."

But she shook her head, didn't say anything, didn't move from my side. She kept her fingers on my penis though, kept stroking it. Eventually she had me lie down on the couch and she gave me a long languorous handjob from the side, ending with a big puddle of sperm on my stomach. It was fine, but I was a bit puzzled why she hadn't done what I wanted. 

Later that night in bed after coupling, we were talking about sex, earlier lovers and so on. This was not infrequent, I had heard a lot about Nikky as well as her early boyfriends in high school, their cocks, what they did to her. 

But tonight she snuggled up against me closer than usual. 

"Chris?"

"Yes, Trina?"

"You know how I said Nikky was my first boyfriend?"

"Sure. Sounds like you two were quite the pair." 

"Yes, but it wasn't my first sex."

I laughed. "Of course not, you had your first climax with your own fingers. Probably three dozen times before Nikky even arrived on the scene." I had more than once gotten her to tell me about masturbating herself.

She was quiet.

"No, that's not it. My first sex with someone else wasn't willing. It didn't involve a climax for me, that honor indeed is reserved for Nikky."

There was a long silence as I processed her words. I didn't like the sound of this. 

"What do you mean your first sex wasn't willing?" There was a catch in my voice.

There was a very long silence. I didn't feel like I could ask again. 

"It was my uncle." She said in a very small voice. 

I felt my body stiffen. 

"Your mom's brother? Or your father's? Or an uncle?" It was not like this detail made any difference but I didn't know what else to ask. 

"My father's brother. My parents were going through a hard time, lots of arguing and tension at home, and many weekends it was better sometimes if I went to stay with Uncle Sandy and Aunt Ginny. They were nice to me, I had always liked visiting them in Worcester. They had a big old Victorian house, I always stayed in a nice room in a little tower on the top floor. It had a great view, I liked playing there when I was a kid. They had no children of their own, don't know why. I was the only niece or nephew nearby."

She was quiet.

"Aunt Ginny had been sick a bit, I didn't know why then, only that Uncle Sandy would do more stuff with me, made me meals. Aunt Ginny was in her room a lot and didn't always even come out when I was over for the weekend."

"Uncle Sandy used to come up in the evening to talk. He is a big guy, balding, As a little girl I used to sit in his lap and he would read to me." 

Her voice got thin, stretched tight. 

"He kept urging me to come sit in his lap again although I wasn't a little girl any more. I don't know why, I felt bad for him with Ginny sick and everything, but one night I did."

"He started touching me, feeling my breasts, my bottom. I didn't feel like I could stop him."

"And one night he had me kneel down in front of him while he sat on the chair."

There was a long, complete, silence. 

"And he took his penis out?" I asked, softly.

I felt Trina nod her head. 

"And you were supposed to touch it."

Another nod.

"And more?"

There were more nods and then she was crying onto my shoulder. I held her close while she cried. I let her take her time.

"Oh Trina, that must have been terrible. Not something you wanted to do."

She calmed a little. 

Her voice had changed, gotten flat. 

"It was awful. At first. It became a routine. I didn't like going over to their place anymore and eventually stopped. But I think it was also the first time I had any idea of how much pleasure I could cause for someone. But he got me trained all right with my mouth. And although I didn't want to admit it then, I liked some part of it. It wasn't until Nikky that it really became fun though."

"Anyway, that's why I couldn't kneel in front of you earlier on the couch. It was too much like Uncle Sandy."

I held her for a long time. We ended up fucking again, a really sweet coupling, and I figured things had entered a new phase. I felt honored she had confided in me.

But the next day it was almost like she had regretted telling me. She treated me like shit, I was ordered around and our next few sexual sessions were all unpleasant - mechanical, devoid of feeling, completely on her terms, often with nasty exchanges between us beforehand, however much I tried to be agreeable and accommodating to her wishes. 

It was bizarre. It was brutal. All the verbal abuse was sapping my energy. 

One night later that week was a disaster. I had a major psych test in one of my classes the next day, and was distracted, and a little worried, about how well I would do. My studies had suffered fairly majorly in the last stretch, and my grade in the developmental psychology class was showing signs that it might drop out of the "B" range. 

In any event, I had trouble getting erect that night. This had never been an issue before, at least on the first time in the day, but we were lying next to each other and I had no trouble fingering her notch into wetness. But playing her hands over my penis did not seem to do much, and even after she tried sucking on it, my cock just wouldn't cooperate. 

I started to panic but couldn't will my prick stiff. She grew increasingly annoyed, starting calling me "limp dick" and we ended up in a big fight. I had offered to lick her to pleasure but that wasn't good enough. 

We yelled at each other and she kicked me out, told me to come back when I "manned up."

"You owe me two!" she yelled as I went out her bedroom door. "While erect!"

I stalked back to my place, both pissed and defeated, one of the few nights I had slept back at the flat during our time together. 

Stash heard my entry and the door shutting behind me. He looked up and opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it. 

My body language I am sure was hostile, and he just watched me go about my business in the flat, getting ready for bed, at least in an attempt to get a decent night sleep. He didn't say a word, but I saw him roll his eyes in a glance to Nigel. 

I went back to Trina's place the next day, after dinner. I had texted her first. I brought her a single rose as a peace gesture. I made sure my penis was stiff before I got to her door. She let me in warily, glancing at my crotch, then got an evil excited smile on her face.

I got a long wet kiss, her right hand rummaging around my prick, stroking it through my pants.

"That's more like it," she finally said when she came up for air. 

She made sure I stayed hard the whole time before we ever made it to bed, at least an hour. She stroked my prick through my clothes when sitting next to me or whenever she was up and went by me. She wore her "tits" shirt with no bra, had me absolutely dying to climax. 

But I had to lick her to two orgasms before she even let me inside her. She had come hard enough that climaxing one more time was pretty much guaranteed when I mounted her, and our orgasms came very close together, mine right after hers as her cunt gripped me good. Whew. Back to normal.

One early evening later that week we were snacking on some cheese and crackers in the living room while chatting. She criticized my eating, a common complaint, saying I was noisy, chewed with my mouth open (which I didn't.)

We argued a bit, back and forth, this had gotten so tiresome.

"Give me a break Trina. If you are going to eat, you gotta open your mouth at first, no way around that. You do too, you have to. You have to open your mouth to suck my cock, too."

She shot me a nasty look.

"I can suck you without opening my mouth," she said.




Katrina Thompson, Trouble Ch. 02



I looked at her like she was daft.

"Give me a fucking break, Trina. You cannot suck my dick without opening your mouth. By definition."

She glared at me straight back.

"Can too."

I felt like I was arguing with my younger brother when he was five years old. Rationality had gone out the window. In frustration I tossed the cracker I was holding up in the air. It landed on the floor and broke into pieces. This was crazy.

"You cannot suck my penis without opening your mouth, Trina."

"Yes I can. And be quiet about it too."

I stared at her, eyes wide, astonished, dumbfounded.

"I'll prove it tonight," she said, with an evil look.

"I will fucking take you up on that, Trina."

Luckily we managed to finish our snacking without further disagreement, but she kept looking at me with a sinister little smile. 

Well, son of a gun, she accepted the challenge and ran with it. 

In bed, she nestled down next to me on her knees and "sucked" my cock. She didn't exactly open her mouth, just pursed her lips a bit, like fishlips I guess, and kissed me top to bottom. It felt like some rodent with soft lips rather than teeth was nibbling my penis to death. 

She pursed her lips up and down, never exactly opening her mouth but performing a squeezing action on my shaft, on my cockhead, under my balls, and my prick got kissed to climax. It was the damnedest thing. 

Her big lips moved with astonishing versatility, she was able to do the most amazing things. She leaked saliva all over, so all the kissing was wet, sultry. 

Of course it took three times longer for me to finally climax than if she actually had opened her mouth and took me regular, but by the end I didn't care. I wasn't even going to argue that technically her mouth had opened because her tongue did slip out at times, especially towards the end, and gave my cockhead lovely little extra mini-licks. 

With her lips kissing rhythmically along my glans, one hand under my balls, a moistened finger from her other hand up my ass, probing magically, I finally launched an enormous pent-up glob of semen, my hips pushing furiously. She kept kissing my prick while it pulsed another few strings of sperm, and then kissed it top to bottom after I was done.

She sidled up next to me afterward.

"See?"

Arguing with her was absolutely pointless, she was determined to prevail no matter what. 

But my penis was taking a drubbing. There was no way I was going to be able to keep up this pace. I started hoping for her menstrual period to arrive, a wish I had never had with any girlfriend, ever, before. At least I should get a break then.

But it never got to that point. 

It was a Sunday night, she had been on my case all weekend. I was ragged, weary of her constant criticism, her incessant harping on my defects, however slight. One more thing and I was going over the edge.

We had a good fuck that night, however. She was on top, pushing her breasts into my face, big smile, and her hips curled into me sweet when she came, me shortly thereafter. 

We lay next to each other, stroking flanks, holding close. She was anxious for another round however, and I wasn't quite ready. 

"So how long's it going to take, Mr. Limp Dick?"

"Don't start in like that, Trina, give me a moment and I'll be good."

I was not entirely sure how long a "moment" would be, or how "good" I would be either. 

So I licked her a bit, got her close.

I pulled up next to her, and played with her tits. I wasn't quite ready.

"When are you going to mount me, wimp?" she asked, impatient. 

"Hold on Trina, hold on." 

I twiddled her cunt, rubbed her lips. She waggled her hips in pleasure.

She felt my penis. 

"You're ready, wuss, come on in."

I shook my head, I wanted more pleasure out of this. 

"Lick me first, Trina, that will get me good and ready."

She shook her head. 

"I want you up me, now." Her voice was insistent. 

I felt my anger rising, resistance building.

"Nope. I want my cockhead in your mouth first, you got a first-class tongue. Get me good and ready."

She shook her head. "No."

"At least let me tit-fuck you for a moment then."

For once I was not going to give in.

We argued a bit, it was so wearisome. But I kept twiddling her cunt, and she was getting worked up.

"Okay, in between my boobs, but I don't want you coming there."

I had an evil grin. I had been thinking about this moment for a few days. I was at the end of my rope, and like most guys, I didn't have a good exit strategy for the relationship, but this scene was setting up to be a doozy. I was tired of being passive aggressive, tired of being ordered around, tired of her snoring, being the punching bag for her aggression, the whole deal. This would be my final act. 

I straddled her chest and ran my prick up and down between her tits, a soft and luxuriant valley. I was just able to reach back and stroke her mound at the same time, keeping her anxious to come.

She wanted me in her.

"Now," she commanded.

I smiled. 

"Nope, not yet, Trina. I want a little lick first."

We fought for a bit. Nasty words were exchanged, but I was on top of her. My resolve to finish things off between us grew.

But her hips were squirming under my continued rubbing and she finally assented. 

"All right, just a few licks. Then your cock down where it belongs."

I hovered over her on all fours and dropped my prickhead into her mouth. It was sweet. I dangled in and out, my cockhead cupped by her lips.

She always tongued me lovely. Her lips were soft, I loved how they held my penis, especially my cockhead, and her tongue would work the underside of my shaft, my frenulum. It felt marvelous dropping my cockhead in and out of her well-lubricated mouth. She was going to get it good. 

I could tell she was just about done with her suck however and ready to begin fucking, when I shifted my body and put my knees and shins on her arms, pressing them down into the bed and trapping her. I knew it had to hurt but she was pinned underneath me. I held her down as she frantically tried to push me off her. I began fucking her face, hard. 

It was quite a struggle, but I was close. My hips kept up their thrusts, I kept ramming full bore into her throat, and she was damn uncomfortable. 

She kept trying to dislodge me, but my cock kept pushing in and out, I wouldn't let up, she gagged a couple times, tears came to her eyes while her efforts to dislodge me grew frantic. I kept pumping my penis in and out. I was close.

Then, that what I had most feared, came to pass.

She clamped down on the root of my prick with her teeth.

To be fair, she could have really bit hard, really hurt me, and she didn't. She could have done some real damage. I am sure also part of it was instinctual too, in self defense. But I didn't care at that point.

I pulled out.

"Fucking bitch!" I yelled, "You bit me!"

"Asshole!" she screamed.

She kept trying to wrestle me off, get out from underneath me, but I wasn't having any of it. I managed to keep her pinned and stroke my prick a few last times with one hand at the same time, so close to climax. My balls were aching for release.

The first blast of sperm got her square in the middle of her face, the second went in her eyes. She shook her head side to side and I sprayed her good, her cheeks, nose, eyebrows, in her ears, her neck. Semen globs were scattered all over her hair, I made sure I flung some strings of semen off on her pillows too, both of them.

She bellowed at me and finally got me off her. 

"Stupid fucking dick head!" she spluttered. She was globbed in one eye and didn't want to open it, so she glared at me with the other, her face contorted. I would have laughed if I hadn't been so worked-up.

"Get the fuck out of here!"

"On my way, bitch!" I yelled back. I grabbed my stuff while she swore at me and I slammed the door behind me with relief.

I had grabbed all my stuff with one hand, including my backback, and planned on getting dressed in the hall. There was no need to prolong my stay in her room any longer.

Asta was poking her head out of her doorway when I emerged, her eyebrows arched, looking a bit alarmed.

She saw me standing there naked, with all my crap in one hand, a drop of sperm still clinging to the tip of my still half-erect cock.

Her eyes were wide.

"Everything okay? Anyone hurt?" she asked.

"Peachy," I replied. "All just fine." 

This was a perfectly ridiculous assertion of course, but I made it sound as normal as possible.

I pulled on my undershorts and clothes and gave her a cheery wave goodby. 

"See you," I said. 

Down the stairs I went. The front door I almost decided to leave open, make some trouble for her, but then I considered her suite-mates, who I had no beef with, and couldn't do it. The front door closed with a satisfying click. 

I got back to my flat after eleven. Stash was reading in the corner. He looked at the clock and raised his eyebrows.

"That fucking bitch!" I yelled. 

Stash looked at me evenly.

"Okay man, tough luck." 

"You wanna know what the bitch did?" I had been stewing on the walk back, talking to myself. Several people had given me a wide berth. I was ready to pull down my pants to show the teeth marks on my penis.

Stash held up his hands.

"Look Chris, you got our sympathy. Entirely. All this female stuff is a regal pain in the ass. And unnecessary and all that. But you know what? We don't want to hear about it. You got us in your corner, and we're with you - until you start spouting. We don't want to hear it. Apologies man, tough scene. But don't say anything more, okay?"

At least he didn't say "told you so."

I stood there, my mouth working its way around, open and shut, I was absolutely fit to be tied. But he was right. I knew that for every complaint of bad treatment I relayed, I would be getting looks that basically said "told you, you stupid sorry bastard."

I threw my backpack down and stalked into the bathroom to piss, then went to bed. I could see Stash's eyes carefully following me as I went about my business.

It took about a month to get over her. I had a million conversations in my head with her, but had zero interest in actually talking with her. I kept a wide distance. I hadn't even had the chance to view her in her leather corset thing, it hadn't arrived yet by mail by the time I bailed out.

A few weeks later in April around sundown I was crossing campus one Saturday night and passed the library. I saw a big rough-looking guy with tattoos all over, almost like a biker, a big doofus smile on his face, bounding up the front steps of the library. Sure enough, Trina was waiting for him at the top. The guy got a kiss and a hug, and then she took his hand and piloted him into the library. The poor sap.

I exhaled. Here was one more initiate, who thought he was at the shore of a huge pleasure lake, ready to plunge in, that he might be in for a grand enduring orgy of sexual enjoyment, but who would be ruing his fate in a matter of days or weeks. I spat on the ground and kept walking back to my place.