3 - Good Girls Don't Do That Part 2
"This job is killing me."
The message popped up on my screen and a smirk pulled at my lips. It was a message from Rachel, one that was becoming more and more common. It was the summer after our freshman year of college, and things had gotten busy with our summer jobs pretty quickly. Our conversations were becoming more and more about letting off workplace stress.
In fact, ever since that last game of truth or dare at the end of the semester, our conversations had been nothing but above board. She never mentioned it, and neither did I, despite the twinge I'd get in my cock every time her name popped up on my computer screen.
"Are you just getting home now?" I looked at my clock--it was almost midnight.
"No, but I'm just winding down now. Home late, then had dinner, then just took a shower. It's a really Friday night killer, I'll tell you that much."
"Did you have other plans?" I inquired. I had learned from our online conversations at college that Rachel had no qualms about having a very active social life, so I was curious if that had continued since we got home from our first year at college.
"I did, but I had to cancel. Sucks." she responded.
"Oh? With who?"
"Just a friend."
"I see." I knew what this meant. She had told me, through a game of truth or dare one night, about how in the months following our awkward hook up after the senior prom she had been with no less than 20 guys. She stroked them and sucked them off, but no sex. Because good girls didn't do that. She had rifled through these guys, handing out pleasure to them in hopes that they might return the favor, that they might make her cum, but none of them had.
None of them, it turns out...but me.
That night after the prom I felt Rachel's tight pussy spasm on my fingers, and apparently I was the only person since then to get her there. She was playing coy, but I knew what she wanted. Our last conversation at school ended with me recounting a hot fantasy I had about her, and her making herself cum right then and there. She needed to cum, and her ruined plans meant she wasn't going to have the chance to try. She needed it badly, but she wasn't' going to ask.
Because good girls don't do that.
"Truth or dare," I typed. I knew it's what she wanted, but for some reason I needed to be the one to break the stalemate.
"Oh here we go," she responded facetiously. I knew she was putting on the front of exasperation by how quickly she followed it up with "Truth."
My cock started to swell as I considered a path, but there were only two things at the forefront of my mind.
"When was the last time you hung out with this 'friend'?"
"Last week," the answer came quickly, as did the follow up. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Have you hooked with anyone since you've been home?"
"Nope." It was true. With everything going on, I had had little time to connect--or reconnect--with anyone since coming home. "Truth or Dare?"
"Truth."
"When you hung out with him last week, was it...satisfying?"
"None of your business," she said. I knew that meant no, and I always chuckled when she did this. She had told me plenty of intimate things at this point, and yet she still tried to put up this veneer of virtue. "Truth or Dare."
"Dare," I said, attempting to move this into the next gear.
"I dare you to think of something that could help my issue right now," she typed. It was a very open ended request, one that was very clear to me in how unclear it was.
"Hmmm," I responded, waiting, then deciding to go for it. "Do you think a massage would help?"
I saw those bubbles appear, then disappear, then appear, then disappear. Indecision, maybe? Unsure as to how to respond?"
"It's after midnight, Tim, nothing's open right now :P"
"Well..." I said, waiting before committing, "...I'm not doing anything right now..."
There was a long pause. I thought I might have blown it, so after a moment, I gave her an easy out.
"But I mean, it IS after midnight, like you said, and I don't think your parents would like a strange man in their house this late."
Seconds after I sent that message came one from her: "there's a park across the street from my house. Can you be there in 20 minutes?"
I smiled. My cock flexed.
"Absolutely."
***
I pulled into the parking lot, and found Rachel already there, pacing languidly and talking brightly on the phone. My headlights soaked up her body, legs first, thick, wide thighs next, loose short shorts pulled over her large, but perfectly shaped ass. She turned toward me as I approached, just in time for the headlights to illuminate the large swell of her incredible chest. She wore a zipped, hooded sweatshirt, but there was no hiding how blessed she was.
I turned off the car, got out, and leaned against the hood. She acknowledged my presence, but paid me little mind as I parked, her full attention being given to the phone call she was on.
"Mmhmm...yeah, I know you do...That sounds...I know, but I'm already in bed, I'm practically falling asleep. " she started laughing at whatever was being said to her. "Stop it, don't be gross!" She turned to me and held up one finger,urging me to wait. "I know, but I'm sorry, not tonight. But there's a lot of summer left--who knows what could happen?"
She said her goodbyes, and ended the call.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"A friend," she said, looking down and texting as she slowly walked over to me.
"A friend who calls you at one in the morning?"
"A friend I...haven't seen in a while."
"Maybe not since...last summer?" I said with a slight smirk, feeling my cock twitch in my pants.
"Maybe..." She smirked to herself, continuing to mostly ignore me and focus on her phone.
It was summer time, and last summer Rachel had gone on a hook up spree, and of course now that the summer was here again all those past hookups would be coming out of the woodwork, desperate for another chance at her mouth, her hands...her tits.
"I see. I can go if you have something else you'd rather--"
"No, no, not at all," she said, shutting off her phone and finally looking at me with a slight smirk and a shift of her curvy hips. Despite her playing it cool, the fact was she wasn't with any of those previous guys, she was here, in a park parking lot in the middle of the night, with me, because none of them could give her what she really wanted...and I could.
She ran a hand through her long red hair, throwing it to one side, and it was at that moment I realized it wasn't just any sweatshirt she was wearing--it was the same one she wore the night of the prom.