This is a continuation of the story about my adventures with my girlfriend, Kara, and her roommate, Joyce. It takes place, once upon a time, when we were college students.
Time-wise, this chapter occurs shortly after chapter 1. If you haven't read the first parts, I recommend that you do. However, if you want to plunge into this story, let me recap. Chapter 1 recounts how Kara's roommate, Joyce, seduced me. Chapter 2 fills in a bit of back story about how Kara and Joyce first connected and made their plans for me. This chapter is a follow-on to Chapter 1. It relates how their plan worked to lead me into more sexual adventures.
I'd like to thank P_A_Solcrofft for his time and advice in the editing of this story.
[Interlude]
My cousin's wedding was great. He had graduated last year from ESU (that would be Enormous State University for those of you who follow the college scene), and now he was marrying his high school sweetheart. Bob was a fun guy, and he and Mary had been together for so long it was as if she was part of the family too.
I spent the whole day Saturday with family and friends. The ceremony itself was blessed, and blessedly short, but the reception at the country club went on well into the night. The bride and groom slipped away sometime after supper. I was a little surprised they stayed as long as they did. If it was me, I would have placed a higher priority on getting started on the wedding night festivities.
Josh, my roommate and best friend since high school, was also going to our home town this weekend and had offered me a ride. We were both seniors at BU and we had a small apartment off campus. My girlfriend Kara shared an apartment with Joyce, and recently Joyce and Josh had had a couple of dates.
This weekend Josh was going home to pick up a new car. His grandfather had died at the end of last summer and now the estate had been settled. Since Josh's old car, a vintage, pale blue Plymouth Valiant, was about on its last legs (or tires, or whatever) the family decided Josh should have his grandfather's Olds 98.
The car was a 1962 model, about eight years old, with only 12,000 miles on it. Granted, it was not a new Camaro, or some other hot car which every red-blooded male college student craved, but it was certainly more reliable transportation. We called his old Plymouth the "Thunderbolt Grease-Slapper" (If you recognize that name, you are old enough to have been there yourself.)
My first look at the car was when Josh picked me up Sunday afternoon for the return trip to college. It was a great white whale of a car with refined, squared-off fins, but it was classy inside, and the ride was as smooth as floating on a mill pond on a lazy summer day.
The trip back to BU was not a smooth one, however. Around noon light snow started to fall, and by the time we were on the road it was really coming down. Soon we were driving through ruts in the snow. Along one twenty-mile stretch of freeway on our route there were three cars in the ditch. There was also a semi rolled completely over on its back in the median, looking like a giant dead beetle with all its 18 legs in the air. I tried not to think about what our fate might be.
We did not go in the ditch. No, with Josh driving his new car, we took the trip slow and easy. The car seemed used to an unhurried pace, and it had good traction. Even with the roads getting worse and worse, we never had any bad moments.
We didn't get to our apartment until much later than we'd planned. I was dying to see Kara, but I also had to finish a paper on "Spanish Composers for the Guitar" (my major was music education, and guitar was my instrument). For once, common sense triumphed over common hormones. I called Kara to tell her we were safely back and let her know I couldn't get over to see her. I promised to give her another call before bedtime and fill her in on the weekend's events.
I had finished a draft of the paper last week, but I still had to get it typed up to hand in. With my notes and rough draft laid out around me I went to work on the portable typewriter my parents had gotten me as a going away gift to college. Although it was not something I would have asked for, considering the number of papers I had typed on it, I had to admit it was practical. I had polished up my eighth-grade typing class skills, and now I could peck out a five-page paper in a reasonable amount of time with only a minimal number of corrections.
Finally finished, I stood up and stretched. Wow, it felt good to get that out of the way! I sorted the papers, put a staple through the best set, and packed up the typewriter. My watch said it was not quite eleven. It was time to call Kara.
She picked up on the first ring. "Finished?" she asked.
"It will do," I said. "I have plenty of stuff. Besides, Kramer likes me."
"She likes your bod."
"Not likely."
"Oh, come on," Kara said. "Kramer's not that old and you're a good looking hunk of love. Did you think those good grades were just from your hard work?"
To tell the truth, the thought had occurred to me. Professor Kramer was not that old, maybe early 30's, good looking, trim figure, and all that. What surprised me most was what Kara was saying. Kara was not usually that forward on the phone with me. Still it was late at night, and we were not going to have our usual evening "workout."
"So what are you doing now?" she continued. "Time for bed?"
"Yeah, I'm about dead," I said. "I wan't driving this afternoon, but I felt like I was helping Josh all the way through the snow."
"Aww. Poor baby. Too tired to even think about me sitting over here in my nightshirt?"
"Well, I've seen your nightshirt, and it's not that thrilling. It's what's inside that counts."
"Okay then, I'll take it off. 'Scuse me." I heard the phone thump down and some rustling. "There. That's better. All naked now. What do you think about that?"
I was taken aback and could not think of anything to say. Kara had never done anything like this before, but what really gripped me was the image of her sitting there in the living room of their apartment in the nude. We had had sex a couple of times on their old couch when Joyce had been gone, and now I could visualize her sitting there with her glorious body visible to the room.
"Ah, I wish I was there," I stammered. A thought occurred to me. "Where's Joyce?"
"She's studying in her bedroom. Why?"
"I just wondered."
"Well, I'm naked now, but who cares. She's seen me naked before. I've seen her, too, you know."
I couldn't help but conjure the image of Joyce as I'd seen her just a few days ago, naked and impaled on my cock. Speaking of which, my single-minded pussy prospector was showing a definite interest in this conversation. I shifted around to give my swelling cock room to grow.
"So, are you thinking about me naked?" she asked.
"I'm picturing you sitting on the couch, naked, with the phone."
"Good boy. Now think about me running my hands over my breasts. Mmm. Yes. That makes my nipples stand up all nice and stiff."
This was definitely something new. My cock surged.
"Mmm. Now I want you to join me naked," she said.
"Uh, Kara, I can't."
