Living at the Frat House - A College Romance

There’s a sound that I can’t identify, and another one, and then Malcolm groans. Not the kind of groan that’s settling in for sleep. My eyes fly open, and in the mirror I can see Malcolm stroking himself. Those sweatpants are pulled down around his hips, and his cock is on full display.

Oh, fuck.

I was right. He is huge, hard and spearing towards the sky, slightly curving back toward him. I watch his hand move, the veins on his forearm standing out, his cock so hard and thick it’s practically pulsating between his fingers.

This is what he meant when he said every part of his routine. He’s going to masturbate with me in the room.

Heat flows down my body, and I realize that the sight of him is making me wet. I’m not a virgin, but I’ve never fucked anyone like him. The sex I had was fumbling, sweaty, and messy, and didn’t exactly make me want to partake in more.

Malcolm was right. I’ve only ever slept with guys, and a couple at that. I’ve never been fucked. Not like he would.

My hand between my legs has always been infinitely more satisfying than the men I’ve been with.

But that? That I want. Malcolm’s words come echoing back to me. You don’t sleep with someone like me. Once you say yes you get fucked until you scream. You are taken and pleasured until you can’t take anymore, and then you still get more. Now, watching him, I don’t doubt it. That body looks like it was made to give pleasure, and I shiver, wanting it. Thinking about what it would feel like to have his warm, strong hands on me again, his mouth over mine, his cock, that cock, pressing into me.

My pussy clenches almost involuntarily, and I know I must be soaked right now, just from the thought. My clit practically aches between my thighs, begging for release.

For a second, I’m tempted to reach down and touch myself, but… He’s right there.

Malcolm’s hand moves over his cock, and in the dim light I can see the slick shine of lotion on his skin. I flush hot, suddenly realizing that he left the light on on purpose so that I could watch him. Like he knew that I would want to.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hand fisting over his shaft in a slow, even rhythm. His abs tense and release as he moves, biceps bulging in his arm as he moves. His hips thrust upwards, fucking his own hand, and I’ve never seen anything so erotic.

If this is what porn was like, I would watch it every single day.

My nipples harden under my dress, and there are chills running over my body even though I’m buried under a blanket. I can feel the slickness between my legs and that rare feeling of complete arousal that I’ve only had a couple of times in my life.

Malcolm’s eyes are shut, lips parted in concentration and pleasure as he moves. I want to know what he’s thinking, and my mind immediately wonders if he’s picturing me. Fantasizing about me right now while he touches himself. I want it to be me, even if the thought is embarrassing. The thought of being the object of fantasy for someone as gorgeous as Malcolm makes the heat running through me burn even hotter.

He moans, soft and vulnerable, pure pleasure that’s made for only him, and I swear that I’m going to spontaneously combust. I can’t take my eyes off his hand, stroking that gorgeous, perfect, cock. I never thought that I would think of a penis as gorgeous, but his is. Perfectly shaped. Hell, he could model for sex shops, or star on a porn cover if he wanted to.

I desperately want to know what it feels like, how it would feel to place my hands where his are right now.

I hate that I want to know. But that doesn’t lessen the desperation that I feel. Wrapping the blanket tighter around me, I resist the pull toward him. If I climbed into his bed right now, I know that he wouldn’t say no. In fact, he’d give me everything that he said that he would and more.

But I can’t.

I can’t give in to that.

Malcolm sucks in a breath, hand suddenly moving in a frenzy. He bites his lip, every muscle going taught and he groans loudly. My heart is pounding, and I don’t dare move to distract him or make the ache between my legs lessen.

He comes over his hand, cum dripping, and I want to know what he tastes like. The thought is so raw and deep that it shocks me.

That’s not what I’m supposed to want. Girls aren’t supposed to want to swallow, right? But in this moment I’ve never wanted anything so badly than to find out what Malcolm Levar’s cum tastes like.