The Scavenger Hunt

I had fully intended to take a shower. After what June and Daisy had done to me it was the only sensible thing to do. But I looked upon the bathroom with new eyes. Eyes that had seen a newly cleaned first floor. The shower curtain was a pastiche of orange and black mold. There was enough hair on the ground of indeterminate origin that it looked like a yeti skin carpet. The mirror was like looking at myself through a yogurt filter.

It was foul, and the sort of place where I did not want to be naked.

So I went downstairs and grabbed the mop, buckets, sponges and various industrial cleaners. Like an old thief in a heist movie, I had one more job.

The curtain went in the tub along with some degreaser and some water. I scraped the mirror with a razor before soaking it with some blue shit. The floor was swept into the most disgusting bag imaginable.

Then I started to mop.

Mopping is quite possibly the most zen thing you can do, absent a mountaintop. The mop passes, and cleanliness follows. Gentle iterations slowly brought forth the original pink floor tiles, long filmed with some unspeakable nastiness.

I don't love cleaning, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't like when things were clean. It reminded me of peaceful nights, the calm that took over a restaurant when the door locks were flipped. It was a time I could be alone with my thoughts, which were basically just transcendent joy. I might live a hundred years, but I would never forget this day.

When the doorbell rang I threw the mop down and practically levitated out of the bathroom.

Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I did not actually levitate. I hydroplaned on newly cleaned, but still quite soapy, ceramic tiles. Physics, as it tends to do, asserted itself. My legs left the bathroom. My ass, and my full weight, landed squarely on the floor. It was the truest form of slapstick.

This is not how I remember it. That is because I do not actually remember what happened, as part of my body is my head and it took one hell of a hit. But I've watched enough forensic experts on crime shows to be able to piece it all together.

My eyes opened into a world of blinding light. An angel appeared and gently placed its divine hand on my face. I smiled. I had died after going to heaven. Seemed fair.

The hand left my face. Then it returned. At speed. If I was not concussed before I was most certainly was now.

The angel spake unto me.

"Wake the fuck up."

"What?"

"Wake the fuck up. I am on a goddamned schedule and I do not have the time for sleep."

I sat up.

The angel stepped back. She had blue eyes, black hair, and the sort of attitude that said "My daddy owns your daddy."

"I wasn't sleeping. I was unconscious."

Her hand was on her hip.

"Do I look like I fucking care?"

"No. No you do not." I said. And she didn't. If I were to be shown a lineup of faces and asked which of these people does not fucking care I'd pick her ten times out of ten.

"I'm a little groggy, what with the brain trauma. But I'm a little unclear as to why you are here. This is a fraternity and you are not a guy."

"Did the boobs tip you off?"

"They were definitely a strong indicator."

"I'm here because of the scavenger hunt. It's two hours to midnight and I have checked almost everything off my list."

"So what does that... wait. Why is your purse strap wrapped around your hand so many times."

"Because when your lazy ass didn't get the door I had to break a window."

"Why on earth did you break a window? I just swept."

"Because I win. It is what I do. And that window was between me and winning. Do you know who I am?"

I looked at her face. Her lips. An aristocratic nose. My eyes wandered. I beheld her very lovely curves and form hugging dress. But not a single one of those attractive things could distract from the contempt in her eyes.

"I'm going to guess the queen bitch of Omega Chi Upsilon Mu?'

"The president, technically. Though I answer to both titles. I am Marjory Taylor Withhart, senior in business administration and heir apparent to Withhart pharmaceuticals."

"That's a lot. Are you going to ask my name?"

"No. Why one earth would I? You're an Alpha, right?"

"Yes."

"And you're here, right?"

I nodded, then regretted it. The knock on my head had left me a little dizzy.

"Yes. I am here. Physically."

"And you have a cock, right? And you like women? And it all works down there?"

"All of these things are true."

"Then you are going to cum four times. The first will be in my mouth, and on my face and chest. The second will be in my cunt. The third--"

"Wait."

"You don't like the word cunt? You seem the type. Snatch, pussy, gash, whatever."

'No, I mean why would I fuck you?"

She stopped, and looked herself up and down. Then she shrugged.

"Because I am hot as fuck and you have a cock. Obviously."

She was not wrong. And had I not just been having the best day of my life that argument might have had some sway. But I was far enough into post nut clarity to still have a bit of self respect.

"You're hot, but you aren't being very nice."

"Nice? What is this, fucking Seasame Street? I am giving you the chance of a fucking lifetime and you are blowing it because I'm not being nice? Where's Beko? That dumb fuck will drop his pants in a hot minute. How fucking often do you think you get to fuck a girl as hot as me?"

"Twice. Today. Crazy shit. On camera. Tons of points. Beko is out. They all are. Gone who knows where. Doing who knows what."

I gave her a smile that was in the neighborhood of sincere. Certainly in the same zip code.

"So I guess the question I have is why on earth would I want to fuck you. Or even talk to you for a minute longer."

"Fine. This is a negotiation. How much is your self respect worth?"

"What?"

"Your self respect. Your price. I have things I need you to do. You have a line that you don't want to cross because I'm not nice. What does it take to get you across that line? Pants down, cock out, ready to go. Do you have a number? You need a job? I'd offer sex but you've already turned that down."

"Fuck. I'm trying to tell you off."

"You have something I want. It's not like I'll give up because you tried to hurt my feelings."

I stepped back. Facing this woman was like walking face first into a tornado.

"So money, a job, whatever I want?"

"Within reason. The price can't be bigger than the ask. This is a negotiation, not a burglary."

"Fine." Anything I wanted. Anything at all. I'd joined the alphas for opportunities, and now they were all in front of me. Anything. And now I just wanted one thing.

"I really want to take a shower. I smell like sex and cleaning supplies and my head is fucking pounding. If you can get the bathroom finished in the next half hour I'll do whatever."

"And what else?" she asked.

I half wondered if she'd have her secretary type this up and run it through legal. She seemed like that kind of gal.

"Just a shower. It's been a long night. A good one, but long."

"I offer you the fucking world on a platter and all you want is a shower."

"I'm a simple man."

"Fine. I'll have it done in fifteen. That gives you fifteen to get clean."

"Thank you. I'm going to lay down for a bit."

"Don't fall asleep."

"I would not dream of it."

"Seriously. If you have a concussion you might not wake up. And I don't fuck dead guys."

"That's an actual policy you have? Like, have you written it down somewhere?"

The sound of mop hitting the ground was the only answer.

I headed to the couch and crashed. I hadn't intended to lie about the sleeping thing, but my body had other ideas.

I woke up to someone shaking me. Which was a big improvement from a slap. But not, to be completely clear, as good as just leaving me to sleep.

"I'm tired. Had the best dream." I'm not proud of how I talk when I'm sleepy. I sound like I should be wearing footie pajamas and laying in a racecar bed.

"Tough shit. Let's get those pants off and get you in the shower. We're working with a tight deadline."

I felt my belt come undone. My button and zipper immediately followed. I lifted my hips. But I kept my eyes closed. Maybe she'd get the hint and let me sleep.

Though I was getting the impression that she was not the kind of girl that got hints. The pants and underwear came off. The hem of my shirt began its short trip from my waist to my chest, in a manner that was as unsensual as one could possibly imagine.

I'd made a deal. And having to clean a fraternity bathroom was a fair price to pay for engaging in some freakshow sex with a woman who was not terribly likeable and who had not yet asked my name.

So I sat up a bit and got a face full of boob for my trouble. Warm, soft, and completely uncovered boob.

I opened my eyes. In front of me was the most perfect breast I had ever seen. To the side was it's equally perfect twin. Both rocked as she wrestled my shirt.

"You're naked." It was more an accusation than a statement.

"Of course I'm naked. Did you think I was going to bleach a bathroom in a six hundred dollar dress? Again, we're on a schedule. I wasn't going to get dressed just to take it all off again."

"It may be the concussion taling, but you're fucking gorgeous."

"I'm gorgeous whether or not your brain is bleeding. And you pack a decent amount of heat. Now get in the shower. '

She pulled the shirt over my head and then pulled me up. She was strong. Like, crazy strong. The parts of her that didn't jiggle rippled. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bathroom. I couldn't have stopped her if I wanted to. And right now I was not so certain I wanted to.

There is an old expression about an ass being so tight you could bounce a quarter off it. The ass I saw in front of me could have crushed a quarter flat, like a train on a track. I don't know how many squats she did to get there, but she definitely had arrived.

The bathroom was dorm spotless. Not something you'd see on a real estate show, but also not like something you'd see in a true crime show, with a caption like 'Site of the infamous Boysenberry massacre.' The floors looked like floors, the walls looked like walls, the mirror looked like me and a painfully hot but unpleasant girl, and the shower looked inviting. It was already running and ready.

"Will you respect me in the morning?" I asked.

"I don't respect you now. So it is pretty fucking unlikely." She pulled the curtain open and walked in.

I took a deep breath. The air was steamy and smelled like fresh bleach. One step. One little step.

Fuck it. Time to make tonight into a fucking legend.

I strutted into the tub. Her phone was propped on the ledge. I did not give a shit. Let the world see me rail her. Livesteam that shit. I cleaned a frat toilet. I wasn't scared of a goddamn thing.

My cock rose to the bell. It knew we had work to do. The shower hit my back. I tried not to cringe, but she had the water on hot.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

"First, wash your dick, balls, and ass. Nobody gives me sloppy seconds. Then I blow you, rim you, then soap up a finger and have a little fun. You'll want to cum. Don't you fucking dare. We've got more to do when we leave the shower."

"Sounds like a god damned plan." I turned to the showerhead, grabbed a washcloth and soap and did my business. As I was finishing up I felt her leaning against me, pushing those two lovely breasts up against me, the tips bullet hard against my back. She let out a hot breath by my ear and I swear to god my spine tingled.

"I'm not married to any particular order." she said. Then she slid down, her chest dragging against my back, my ass, and finally my thighs. I felt her hands grip my ass and then pull it open.

I closed my eyes and held my breath. I've been talking a good game, but I'd never experienced whatever the hell was going to happen here. My life was decidedly vanilla and this was some funfetti type freakery.

Her tongue, like every other part of her, was not gentle. I swear to god it felt like she punched my asshole with it. She pushed it and split me open. She used it like a jackhammer, sliding in and out. The things she was doing didn't seem physically possible. I wondered if she even worked out her tongue.

Then I stopped wondering a goddamn thing, because one of her hands had snaked around and grabbed my cock with a pull up grip. She squeezed it like she wanted to make orange juice come out. A tear came to my eye.

Not a happy one. How could someone so damn hot be so bad at this. Maybe she never had to try?

After a couple minutes of strangling my cock and punching my ass she grabbed my hips and spun me around. I nearly slipped in the slick tub and found myself tumbling. I caught myself on the wall and took a second. Two concussions in one night would be a real problem.

She was in front of me, on her knees. She grabbed my hips and pulled me towards her, her mouth and terrifying tongue clearly ready for me. Stupid fucking deal.

I pushed my cock inside her mouth and hoped to god that when it comes out it will be undamaged. She pulled me in by my hips and I swear on all that is holy I hit every single tooth in her mouth.

I might have suffered in silence. I made a deal. The bathroom was clean. Fun was not supposed to be on the menu, and it wasn't like I had not checked that box off multiple times this evening.

I might have, except a finger jabbed into my ass so hard that I thought she was going to rip it open. I jumped and ended up with more tooth on cock action than any human being might want.

"Fucking enough!" I shouted. "Deal or no fucking deal, I can't keep doing this. Sex is not a fucking MMA match. The goal is not to make the other person tap out from pain. Teeth have no business in blow jobs. My dick is not an almost empty tube of toothpaste. Any penetration should involve some sort of lubricant. And your tongue could dig god damned oil wells in Texas."

I'd never shouted at someone who was giving me a blow job before. It occured to me that this was probably just basic common sense. There is not a worse person to be mad at you than someone whose incisors are surrounding your junk.

Marjory was looking at me in shock. Her jaw had gone slack with surprise, and her hands had fallen to her side.

No one had ever talked to her like that. Clearly. I felt a little bad. Nobody wants to tell someone else they suck, and I'd only known her for an hour, max. Maybe she fosters puppies and is a good friend? Probably not. But maybe.

But I also felt a little good. The slackening of her jaw meant that there was not a single tooth in contact with my dick. It was almost like a real blow job with some sort of shared pleasure goal.

I'm not proud of what happened next. I'd blame reflexes. Or a general state of horniness. Or the tides. But whatever bullshit excuse I might put together wouldn't fly in the light of day.

I pushed in just a little. Her eyes widened. So I pulled out a bit. Her lips remained tight against me, and she was looking into my newly tarnished soul.

"Better." I said. "Maybe, gently, run your tongue along me."

And then, to my complete and utter astonishment, she did what I told her. I felt her tongue trace along the bottom of my cock as I pushed in and out. I pulled almost entirely out, only to feel her tongue wrap around the head.

I grabbed her hair. I am not, normally, a hair grabbing guy. In general if a girl wants to spend any time with my dick I am perfectly happy for it to be on her terms. But Marjory did not seem like that kind of girl.

I pulled her in, until I could feel the head pressing right up against the back of her throat. There was no gag. She didn't flinch. She just stared at me with an intensity that, had I been in my right mind, I'd have found off putting.

"Now I'm going to fuck your face. I swear to god that if I feel a single tooth we're ending this right now. But, if you can do a good job we are going to go until I get right on the goddamn edge of cumming. And then I will do something to make you happy. Nod if you understand."

And, with the slightest of nods, I began.

I don't want you to think I am cool and in control. On a normal day I am not. But today was pretty fuckign far from normal.

Every aggressive thrust by me was mirrored by her head rocking forward. I swear to god Marjory didn't even blink. And I sure as hell wasn't going to. I got faster and faster, and she got sloppier and sloppier. Her lips were wet from my strokes, and her free hand snaked between her legs. The moan she made was so god damn sexy I nearly lost it.

I stopped. "Was that our deal?" I asked.

She looked guilty. Genuinely guilty, like I'd caught her hand in a cookie jar. Which I absolutely just did. She shook her head no, careful not to let me escape her lips.

"Do you want this to stop?"

Again she nodded no.

"Then focus on the task at hand and we'll get to you."

I've bluffed before. But I was betting a six high into a queen. Of course, the nice thing about a bluff is sometimes they don't call.

Sometimes they raise.

She grabbed my hips and pushed me so hard into her mouth that I must have bruised her tonsils. She rocked me in and out like I was a carnival ride. Somehow, even when being dominated, she still could be in control. I had no complaints though. She was doing exactly what I asked, and I could not imagine her being more focused on the task.

I rolled with it, feeling my balls tighten, my head go all spacy, the release I desperately wanted right there in front of me. This was her doing, and I did not want to stop.

But we did have a deal.

I pulled out, and she almost fell forward trying to keep me inside. I turned off the water,grabbed a towel, and hastily dried us off. Then I threw it on the newly cleaned floor.

"Lay down and spread 'em." I don't have a romantic or sexy bone in my body. My dirty talk is shit. But I'll be damned if she wasn't flat on her back and wide open before I'd finished the sentence.

Let's take a minute to appreciate this. She had a swimmer's body, all wiry with broad shoulders and the perfect rack. Her abs led to a wonderfly trimmed and puffy mound, which was wide open and waiting for me, wet with what I can only assume was an excitement that matched, if not exceeded, my own.

I put my head between her legs and did God's work. There are pussies you lick, pussies you fuck, and pussies you worship. I licked a god damned shrine to her. I played with her lips, drawing them between mine. Fingers traced her thighs, before opening her up to new angles. I started soft, then went harder as I felt her excitement build. When her thighs lifted her to my lips I did exactly what she wanted me to.

I ran my hand over every inch of her that I could reach, trying to find a single flaw, something that might suggest that she was anything but pure physical perfection. I am happy to say I found not a one.

The blood was so loud in my ears that I couldn't hear what she was saying unless I focused. The stream of gibberish resolved itself into a steady diet of profanity and filth.

"You're going to fuck that pussy. You're going to eat me until I cum all over your fucking face and then you are going to fuck me. Jesus christ, suck on my clit. I want to squirt on you so fucking bad. Lick my ass. Fuck my ass. Fuck my tits. Cum on my face."

Her dirty talk was much better than mine.

I followed a bit of advice and started to suck gently on her clit. And at that point her thighs clamped down on my head like elevator doors. It was like getting crushed in the world's sexiest vice. Her hips raised and lowered and she just screamed, loud enough that I could hear it despite the earmuffs.

So I felt more than a little proud. And a smidge asphyxiated.

Her thighs went slack and I made my escape, trying to catch all the breaths I had missed.