Bonnie is mad enough to spit. She’s had a bit of a temper as long as I’ve known her. It has never been directed at me, but I have seen her in action and she is in full bloom now. Her nose is bleeding.
“Hey babe, I’m sorry,” says the good looking guy on the other side of the net who just spiked the ball hard into her face. We all know it wasn’t on purpose but Bonnie isn’t buying it.
“Fuck you, asshole!” she yells, producing smiles on the faces of both teams, except for Bonnie who is angrily wiping away blood with the back of her hand. “And if you call me ‘babe’ again I’ll kick your balls all the way up into your throat!”
I have to hide a smile. The guy is a good eight inches taller than Bonnie and outweighs her by at least fifty pounds.
The volleyball match is temporarily suspended. Another good looking guy on the other team has produced a handkerchief and Bonnie is allowing me to help staunch the flow of blood.
There is another reason she’s pissed off. Our dorm joined the new co-ed intramural volleyball league a couple of weeks ago and we’ve been very successful so far, taking our first two Friday evening matches from the Lagunita Court and Stern Hall dorms. We’re not so lucky this time around. Branner Hall, a dorm for upperclassmen, is kicking our asses. My roommate and lover has been spoiling for a fight since we lost the first five points.
When the match resumes and the slaughter finally ends, I’ll take her back to our room, clean her up in the shower, and then fuck her really hard with our dildo. An orgasm or two will reestablish her normal cheerful self. The dildo was a gift from Mitch, the porn star and high class escort who relieved me of my virginity on my eighteenth birthday, giving me an unexpected orgasm in the process.
Bonnie is four months older and started having sex soon after her eighteenth birthday. By the time Mitch fucked me, she had already had sex with a couple of different boys but had not been able to achieve an orgasmic state during intercourse. The young men were only interested in their own gratification.
My encounter with Mitch, and the resultant orgasm, was captured on video by my mother. I wanted her in the room with me since Mitch was a stranger, but she balked and we reached a compromise. She finally agreed to monitor what was happening by video feed from nearby room.
When I shared the video with Bonnie, and the circumstances surrounding Mom’s participation, I got a predictable reaction; she was green with envy. What she didn’t know was that I had already asked Mitch if he’d be willing to help her, and he agreed. When I told Bonnie about his offer, she readily accepted with the proviso that I be in the room with her when it happened and that everything be digitally recorded for later enjoyment.
After an hour of watching Mitch expertly fuck my best friend, using a variety of techniques to drive her into several shattering orgasms, I reached two conclusions; I wanted to have sex with Mitch at least one more time and I also wanted to have sex with Bonnie. When I nervously confessed my feelings toward her, she admitted having similar yearnings about me.
Just before we left home to start classes at Stanford as freshmen, I spent an afternoon with Mitch. The result was a comprehensive sex education that would have taken months, perhaps even years, to compile under normal circumstances. That encounter was also recorded, adding to our small collection of personalized pornography.
Bonnie and I started having sex soon after our arrival at school. As roommates, we are in an ideal situation and take advantage of our good fortune whenever the mood strikes us. And it strikes often, so we have lots of opportunities to explore our sexuality while we wait for the right guys to appear and round out our sex lives.
With the bleeding stopped, we start playing again, Bonnie with ferocious intensity, the rest of us trying to win but not wigged out. A couple of times after we rotate positions, I find myself at the net opposite the guy who donated the handkerchief. He’s about the same size as the guy who spiked Bonnie, maybe a shade over six feet, so I watch him closely for two reasons. He really is nice looking and I don’t want a bloody nose.
I rarely try to spike the ball. At five seven, I don’t have the height, particularly against much taller opponents. I prefer to go up for a ball that normally would be spiked and then simply tap it just enough to clear the net and fall to the ground. On two occasions I am able to pull this stunt, once with handkerchief guy and once with Bonnie’s spiker. Both guys just grin at me and give me a thumbs up. In the end we lose the match, but not until we put forth a good effort and pull within three points of the Branner Hall team.
Since the league started, it has been customary for both teams to head for a nearby off-campus watering hole where the few over-twenty-one players drink beer and the rest of us resentfully order soft drinks. Bonnie’s disposition has improved, so we join the crowd. We’re seated with two of our female dorm mates at a table for six. Two guys from our team are off trying to hustle a couple of the girls from Branner Hall. After fifteen or twenty minutes of conversation Bonnie is nearly herself again. At least until handkerchief guy and the spiker show up and ask if they can join us.
“Sure,” three of us respond. “Have a seat.”
“Fuck off,” Bonnie snarls, her mood darkening.
“Thanks ladies,” both men respond as they ignore Bonnie and take the two remaining chairs.
“Majority rules,” the handkerchief guy says with a grin in my direction. “I’m Zach and the master spiker here is Darren.”
Darren turns in Bonnie’s direction and is met with a glare.
“I really didn’t mean for that to happen,” he says kindly. All of us know his apology is sincere. Even Bonnie’s face softens a little and she lets out a small sigh.
“I believe you,” she says after giving him a long look and then a small smile. “I’m not a very good loser, so I was already pissed off at the way the match was going.”
“Well, you guys put up a good fight. I’m sorry you got hurt, but it really was a great game. According to the schedule, our teams will meet several more times before the year is out.”
“And we’re already looking forward to it,” Zach offers.
We spend the next hour or so chatting amiably about volleyball, campus life, and share a little personal information with the two guys who respond in kind. Zach is a twenty-year-old pharmacy major. Darren is also twenty and is majoring in finance. And, like us, they are roommates.
As we talk, both men take care to engage all four of the women at the table, but I notice that Darren glances at Bonnie more often than he does the others. I chalk it up to regret that he caused her harm. It also may have something to do with the fact that, in my opinion, she is the most beautiful woman in the establishment despite a little puffiness around her nose and upper lip.
Smiling inwardly to myself, I return my attention to the others only to find Zach staring openly at me. A small hint of amusement appears on his face and then he looks away. Instinctively, I know he’s going to look my way again within seconds. He does so with a sheepish little grin and I smile back at him. He’s busted and he knows it. There is a spark of interest on both sides of this equation.
Since we joined the volleyball league, Bonnie and I have gone out on dates with a couple of guys we met through the sport. We had a nice time in every case, but neither of us found them to be likely candidates for a sexual relationship. We intend to take our time and choose carefully, having no intention of becoming promiscuous in our search for suitable male sex partners.
Nothing more happens this evening so we part ways with the others and head back to our dorm room. We’re a little hungry from all the exercise, so we microwave a couple of bags of popcorn and watch television in the dorm’s common area until nine o’clock or so and then return to our room.
“I saw Zach eyeballing you tonight. I’m guessing he’s already interested,” Bonnie tells me as we get ready for our showers. We both know we’re going to have sex tonight, but she doesn’t know what I intend to do to her. I can tell she’s still a little amped up by the spiking incident and losing the match.
“I noticed the same thing about Darren,” I counter with a grin. “And, unless I miss my guess, you appeared to be receptive to his attention.”
“Maybe,” she says. “I’m not quite over the nosebleed yet.”
