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It was just supposed to be fun; her own little fantasy.
Kiley was throwing her usual end-of-the-semester house party. Before we went, I pre-gamed at lez-Delia's with Preston, Marina, and bi-Delia (who may or may not have rode my dick). I rolled up to the party on a two-drink buzz and it went downhill from there.
I was already pretty drunk by the time Preston and I decided to play matchmaker for Marina and lez-Delia. Neither has shown an interest in the other, but I kinda ship them a little and Preston is along for the ride because he thinks it would be funny.
I tell the girls that I'm conducting an experiment for my anthropology course and need their assistance.
"Okay, so to make this as scientific as possible," I say, not sure if all the words are coming out right, "You have to really try to arouse the other person, even if they aren't in your strike zone." All three agree to the research conditions and we run through the trial pairings, pausing after each one to compare field notes.
I kissed lez-Delia first. From a technical standpoint, she's a pro, but I strangely don't feel anything. Marina isn't as good as lez-D, but she does more to make me hot and I get a semi-hardon. We saved the same-sex pairing for last, because we're trying to hook the girls up. I know I'm supposed to be playing Cupid, but my dick really responds to Preston. Part of it is the alcohol, but I still remember what that mouth can do.
And that split. Oh my fucking God, that split.
I'm kinda lost in musings of fit and flexible cheerleaders with cute dicks for a little while, and when I finally remember where I am, Preston is talking with friends and the girls are slipping off to find an empty room.
And that's when I notice Indie.
Of course, it's hard to not notice Indie. 6'6", slim runner's build, strong nose, chocolate brown eyes, long shaggy hair dyed a brilliant blue, and enough metal in his face and ears to make magnets a dangerous prospect. I know him from the sexuality course I'm taking this term. He's the aforementioned hot TA about which I spend an improper amount of time having very improper thoughts.
Right now, he's holding up the door frame wearing a plain red t-shirt, dark grey Dickies shorts, and canvas Vans. Indie drinks from a plastic cup, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but Kiley's.
There is only one word my alcohol addled mind can think at this time: WANT. I decide this is the perfect time to get another maintenance drink.
Indie's attention is focused somewhere else when I walk up, so I squeeze into the doorway with him, instead of asking him to move. I innocently look up as he looks down. Girls dig it when I act confident and aggressive, but I've since learned that guys totally go for my little naif routine. His deep bass voice vibrates through me as we exchange small talk and I use his drink as an excuse to flirt. I take it and almost drain the cup before handing it back to him. He gives me a stunned look and walks off.
I run into Cory a few more times throughout the house. He's dancing in the living room, getting another drink from the kitchen, doing shots in the dining room, chatting with friends on the patio out back. No matter where I am, or what I'm doing, the kid is somewhere nearby. Not following me, per se, just there in my general vicinity.
I've had a couple drinks more than I intended by this point and have to go to take a piss. On my way back up the hall, I notice one of the bedrooms. The door is ajar and no one seems to be in it. It's the first room (aside from the bathroom) that isn't filled with people, so I sneak in and pull the door almost closed.
The room is large enough to fit a queen-sized bed, desk with chair, and the rest of the typical bedroom furniture. There's even a row of bookshelves and a small loveseat. She has a book called You're So Sexy When You Aren't Spreading STDs that looks mildly interesting. I pick it up and flop on the loveseat to read.
A few minutes later, the door creaks open and a head pops in.