Marcus was deep into his homework a week later. His roommate was already asleep, having pulled two successive all-nighters in order to pass his most recent tests. Marcus was studying with the light shaded, trying to see, but really having to force himself to concentrate. He knew it was Tuesday night, and he also knew that he had no money this week. She probably wouldn’t care. She’d either buy me a beer or offer me one back at her place. But I can’t go into the bar with no money. And what if I show up at her place and she has a man up there already?
He sighed, trying to concentrate on mitochondrial DNA and the role it played in proving evolutionary theories. Don’t think about her breasts with those hard nipples. Don’t think about how she smells–how she tastes–or how she looks when she arches her back from an orgasm that I gave her.
He realized that he was hard again, that he was sweating profusely, and that there was someone knocking on his door. Swearing under his breath at his situation, he stalked over to the door and swung it open, expecting to see someone wanting to borrow his calculator. In his current mood, he was ready to be belligerent with the intruder.
“Hi-ya Marcus! I know it’s Tuesday night, but not the right one for you, right? Well, I just got a check in the mail from my folks because I told them I needed a couple more books. I downloaded one of them as an ebook and borrowed the other one from a friend. Thus I find myself with a little bit of extra cash. What can I do with this extra money? I asked myself. Then, thinking altruistically of course, I remembered that you’re so skinny because the food in the dorms sucks so bad. Yeah, I remember. My acne acts up just thinking about eating here. Yuck! No one wants to live here past freshman year. The fact that you have to just bites the big one. So anyway, I thought of you and your big–you know–appetite.”
She smiled at him in a wicked way, licking her lips, letting him know just what she had been thinking about. “So how about you and I take a stroll down to the Pizza Pit and split a pitcher of beer and a pizza? The surest way to know if you’re compatible with someone is what kind of shit you like on your pizza, right? I mean, like if you wanted dead fish or anything gross like that, I’d either have to dump your ass immediately, or at least make you bring a toothbrush along, so you could brush before I kiss you again. Which reminds me–” She pasted herself to the front of him, twining one of her legs up and around behind his ass, wrapping her arms around him, and pulled him down for a very long, arousing kiss.
After a few sweaty moments, during which he wondered if his sleeping roommate would notice if he dragged her into his room and nailed her against the wall, just to take the edge off, she pushed him back.
“Phew! Even better than I remembered. Marcus, you da man. I knew you were good enough to drag back to my bed for another round. Let’s go eat. Food first–then each other for the rest of the night. Okay?” She smiled as she licked up his neck, rubbing herself against him. “You coming?”
“Honey, you keep rubbing on me like that, and I will be before we even get out of my doorway.” His hands lingered over her curves, tracing them like a blind man reading Braille–remembering, stroking, kneading, and needing.
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