Rooming with Roseann

Barry's first day at university and a new temptation

...you and I are going to have a talk.

Ominous words when uttered by a woman.

I delayed as long as possible, first finding paper toweling to clean up my mess. It was a substantial puddle, but fortunately I hadn't soiled the fabric of the sofa. After visiting the toilet, I refilled RoseAnn's wine glass, and got one for myself.

"Don't look so apprehensive," she said when I returned. "You're not going to get a spanking. Not this time, anyway. There are things we need to discuss."

"Discuss? You mean like philosophy? The meaning of life?" I tried to disguise my apprehension with humor, but it sounded silly even as I said it. I sat at the other end of the sofa.

She pointed to the carpet between her feet. "On the floor, Barry. Lean back against the sofa." I moved onto the carpet, and she put her long legs over my shoulders. I lifted one foot, kissed the instep, and began to rub the soles, the way she liked it. Maybe that would get me off the hook--if there was a hook.

She said, "I'm a thirty-seven year old woman, and you're eighteen. I'm twice your age, and we're having sex. How do you feel about that?"

I didn't know how I felt about that, but my mouth took over and mumbled, "Our ages don't matter to me. You're beautiful and sexy. And you're experienced. Sex with you has been so much more intense and wonderful than with girls my age." It was easy to talk with my back to her, and the words just rolled out.

"Yes, but I'm more than just beautiful and experienced, aren't I? Weren't you alarmed when you found out how I need to take control? Did you expect such a bossy girlfriend when you came to live with me?"

"Frankly, I didn't know what to expect. I hoped we might have sex together, but I never guessed at what we'd get into so quickly. But I've been attracted to you since I met you. You were so confident and assertive about everything. I had a lot of fantasies about you."

"You're very flattering. Tell me some of your fantasies."

"I guess what we've been doing so far is pretty close to most of them."

"You mean the oral sex? You dreamed about going down on me?"

"That, and the teasing. I fantasized about those things, but I never suspected they'd excite me as much in real life as they do."

"The teasing? Really? All you've done is complain about how much you hurt, and how badly you needed to get off."

"I can't help it, and I don't care if it hurts. I've been obsessed with you all the time I've been here. Now that I've had my climax, I miss the feeling of being supercharged all the time. I feel kind of dull and irritable instead."

I turned to look at her. She rolled her eyes and smiled, a gesture that I found intensely arousing. "Mm-m. That's encouraging. It's good that you and I like the same things. Is that a coincidence, or what?

"But I have a problem," she continued. "I've got a responsibility to your mother and father to see that nothing distracts you. I don't think they'd like their only son to spend his college years in a sexual stupor, not with me, or with anyone. You only get one shot at a Stanford education and one shot at medical school. I wouldn't want to be responsible for spoiling that."

I protested, "But right now, I want to stay with you, and sleep with you, and have sex with you more than anything."

"Well, you'll be able to do that, but we'll have to set boundaries of some kind. We'll work those out as we go, but be careful. I'm not as self-disciplined as I'd like to be. Left to myself, I know I'll get more demanding as time goes on. You'll need to remind me if I start to interfere with your studies."

I remained sitting on the floor, rubbing her feet. She poked at my swelling cock with one foot and said, "Oh, look! Someone's getting hard again. I think you ought to come inside me and finish it properly this time. I hope it's a good one, for your sake, because it's going to be at least a week before you get to come again."

I was tempted to decline, but a week? How would I handle that? She led me to the bedroom and lay quietly while I pushed my half-rigid cock into her. She moved her hips languidly as I pumped, as if she were watching television over my shoulder. But her passivity didn't stop me. In less than a minute, I brought a grunting completion to the lame, accidental orgasm of a half-hour before. It was mechanical and devoid of passion, and I was more unsatisfied than before. I missed the constant sexual tension that had burned in my brain for nearly three days now. I wanted to feel the aching and yearning. I wished I'd been able to control myself better. I tried to imagine RoseAnn straddling my face, lowering her hot, soaked pussy onto my eager tongue, but I felt nothing. The fire of need refused to ignite.

"That should keep you for now," she whispered in my ear as I lay next to her, recovering.

I marked next Thursday on my mental calendar. A night's sleep would refresh me and I'd be just as wildly horny as I was an hour ago. How was I going to last seven days, when she'd turned me to a throbbing sex maniac in just three?

* * *

Friday morning was a repeat of Thursday's frenzy. RoseAnn rushed out the door at seven-thirty. But I didn't go back to bed. Today was my day to register for classes. Somehow, I had to push thoughts of RoseAnn into the background, at least for today. At eight o'clock, police and paranoid neighbors be damned, I walked resolutely the two miles to the Stanford campus.

The first three hours of my University career were spent standing in lines, pretty much repeating things I'd already done by mail. First was a check-in, where a folder full of papers was thrust at me. Then came a rapid-fire 'counseling' session to confirm that I was taking courses appropriate to my plans, and to shift my classes so I wouldn't, if it could be helped, have one class in the early morning and the next in the evening. After that, I had to produce local and home addresses, medical coverage, and other information that I'd scarcely thought of. As noon approached, I stood in a third line to pay the remaining cash owing on my tuition and fees. Only when the finances were in order did they take my photo and issue a temporary ID card; that would serve until the photo-ID card was ready.

After the official paperwork, I ran a gauntlet of free barbeques and food service booths manned by students, where I ate a couple of free hot dogs and listened to sales talks on religious and political organizations, campus publications, and hobby clubs. When I arrived at a table marked 'Biochemistry Club', I stopped, partly since I planned to major in biochem, and partly because of the striking redhead that sat behind the cluttered table. Beside her was a thin young man with a prominent Adam's apple and coke-bottle glasses.

"So what does the Biochemistry Club do?" I asked, alternating my gaze between them.

The young man opened his mouth to reply, but I fixed my eyes on the redhead. She leaned in my direction. "What can I do for you, handsome?" she said, in a sultry contralto. Besides a lush head of carefully brushed copper hair, she also had startling blue-green eyes.

"The Biochem Club," I repeated, directly to her. "What do they do?"

"It's a twelve-step program," she purred. "The first step to a cure is to admit that you're taking biochemistry."

I laughed. "So it's an AA program for nerds?" For an instant, I worried about her reaction, but she laughed in a way that sounded like music.

The man spoke up. "It's mostly a social club for biochem majors. We help each other with homework and even personal problems. But we also have a beer bash every couple of weeks, too. We organize trips for mid-semester breaks. That kind of thing."

"I'll join," I said, showing my new temporary ID card. I wrote my name, local address, and phone number on a sheet that already contained a dozen names. "I'm Barry," I said, "and what are your names?" I directed the question at the woman.

"Arnie," said the man.

"I'm Gloria," said the redhead in her silken voice. She reached out and shook my hand. Her hand was small, warm and dry. "I hope you'll come out. Here's the notice for our first meeting next week. Also, there's a party tomorrow night to welcome the new members."

Arnie held out his hand, too, and I shook it. He was plainly annoyed to be eclipsed by his gorgeous associate. I expected his whole day had gone like that. "By the way," he said seriously, "be careful how you use 'nerd' and 'geek' around here. They don't mean the same things. 'Nerd' implies a lack of social skills, a loser. But 'geek' is good. Geek is an expert, a guru. Geek is a compliment."

As I was turning to leave, Gloria stood up. "I'm going to grab a bite," she said to Arnie. Her slim body unfolded until she stood as tall as RoseAnn. I felt a faint stirring in my groin. She was so tall! I wondered if she'd be a natural dominant, too.

"Can I eat lunch with you?" I asked, now totally ignoring Arnie.

"Only if you wipe that mustard from your face. You must have already had lunch."

"Just a hot dog. I'm not full, and I need coffee."

She took a tissue from her purse, dampened it with her tongue and wiped at my lower lip. "There. Now you're fit to be seen in public." The cool wet of her saliva on my lip was electric, and I warned my cock to stay down.

Remember, you're RoseAnn's property now.

She led the way into the back of a large food tent, where she flirted briefly with one of the food servers, and came away with two cardboard trays containing beef sandwiches, two small salads, and empty coffee cups. We filled our coffee cups at a tall steel percolator and sat at a picnic table marked 'Registration Volunteers Only'.

"So you're a volunteer?" I said, by way of starting conversation.

"Well, everyone in the club is supposed to be pulling a shift here, but I guess Arnie and I have been doing all the heavy lifting. Mike--our president--says he wants a hot woman out front to draw in the freshmen while they're still dizzy from registration."

"He called you a 'hot woman'?"

"I guess I'm supposed to be insulted, but I'm not. Flattered, actually."

I shrugged. "Well, I guess the 'hot woman' thing worked, in my case at least."

She giggled. "What possessed you to take biochemistry?"

"Medical school."

"Jeez, you don't need to take such a tough program to get into med school. Why didn't you enroll in Pre-Med? It's not nearly as demanding."

"I want to get into research, once I've got my MD. My folks are both physicians, and that was their advice. I don't think I'm temperamentally suited to be a clinician."

Belatedly, I remembered the first rule of getting into a girl's pants--make the conversation about her, not yourself. "And what got you into biochemistry?"

"It's the family business." She looked around, as if preparing to divulge a secret. "My father is Dieter Gruendlich. Does that mean anything to you"

"The Nobel Prize Gruendlich? Really? I feel honored to be in your presence."

She laughed. "I've been surrounded by biochemists all my life. We've moved all over the world, following my dad's career, and now it's time to start a career of my own."

By the time we'd finished our hamburgers and coffee, she knew that I lived with my aunt, just two miles from the campus, and that I had no girlfriend waiting for me back in Illinois. I knew that she was a sophomore, and that she dated a series of men, but had no special attachments at present.

I wondered if her story was as much of a distortion as mine.

Eventually, she glanced at her watch. "Don't you have a campus tour about now?" she said at last. "It's nearly two o'clock."

"I guess I'd better go. I'll see you at the Biochemistry Club, then?" I took one last look at those crystalline eyes.

"Oh, we'll probably run into each other before then. Be sure to show up tomorrow night."