More Is More

How was he supposed to concentrate? How was anybody supposed to concentrate for that matter? At the front of the lecture hall, Professor Clark carried on in his monotone, pacing from one side of the room to the other, lulling the class further and further into a quiet stupor.

The absentminded doodles Jason had been making in his notebook for the better part of an hour had started to take on a distinct form: a sketch of Claire. She was sitting in the fourth row and was maybe the last student still paying close attention. But it wasn't her work ethic that had his rapt attention -- it was her natural beauty and her carefully curated style that stood out against the sea of sweatpants and collegiate sweatshirts.

His pencil started to drift, finishing its work on her ponytail, now outlining the soft features of her face and then moving down, arriving at her blouse. Vaguely, he poked at the buttons with his pencil, imagining them coming loose one-by-one. Shaking his head, he brought himself back to reality.

"... And that will be essential to final," the professor finished. Jason whipped his head back and forth to see the class nodding their understanding. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, looking to the fourth row to see Claire making a note of the professor's last remarks in her agenda.

He leaned back in his chair, and an idea occurred to him -- a good one. One that would mean the last hour of his life wouldn't have to have been a complete waste. A few minutes later, outside the lecture hall, Jason parked in the corner and waited, but he didn't have to wait for long. About a foot shorter than the rest of the class, Claire was nevertheless easy to spot because the bustling crowd left space all around her, as though they understood she was somehow different -- more akin to a professor than a fellow student.

"Claire!" he shouted. He saw her standing up on her tippytoes to search over the heads in the crowd, and his heart leapt when her eyes met his and she smiled. She changed course.

"Hey! Been a minute," she said.

"Yeah well, I've been waiting to bump into you, but I got tired of waiting."

Claire laughed. The sight of it gave him the hit of confidence he needed for what came next.

"Listen," he said, "I don't know about you, but I'd say I only caught about five percent of what happened in there."

"I'd say I'm closer to two," Claire said. It was clearly bullshit, but he appreciated her saying so all the same.

"Well, how about this?" he said. Claire hugged the books she was carrying to her chest and leaned forward. "How about you come over to my place later and we study? Between my five percent and your two, we'd be about seven percent covered for the final."

Claire smiled, her gaze wandering through the surrounding crowd. "I don't know," she said. "I should stay in and do some reading." Beneath the doubt, he sensed that she had no desire to spend Friday night alone in her room studying. She just needed a little encouraging, and he was only too happy to oblige.

"You can always read at mine. I have a light, a chair. Everything you might need."

She smiled again, considering. "Fine," she said after an agonizing pause.

"Fine?"

"Fine," she said, laughing

"Then it's a date."

~

That evening, standing in front of the full-length mirror in her room, Claire let her hair down for the third time. Her short, unfussy haircut fell to her shoulders and she sighed. Up or down, no matter what she did, she looked more prepared for a board meeting than a date. And was it really even a date? She considered as she put her hair back up in a ponytail and turned her attention to her clothes. Yes, Jason had used the word "date," but it was a common turn of phrase -- it meant nothing.

She was still wearing the clothes she'd worn to class: a white blouse tucked into brown slacks. There might not be much she could do about her hair, but there was still time to fix her outfit. She needed something different. Something that suggested she was more than a bookworm. Something that was, in no way, recognizable as being "Claire."

She didn't want to examine this need feel like someone else too closely. Obviously, it was more than her attraction to Jason. It probably had something to do with there being only a few short weeks until graduation. And what did she have to show for her time here? Sure, she'd have the degree -- a piece of paper to show perspective employers -- but did she have any real experience? Any adventures should could look back on when she bored, stuck in an office counting down the minutes until five?

No. Not yet, anyway.

She crossed the room and opened her bureau. Searching through the neat stacks of clothing, her frustration grew. There was nothing... No short skirt, not a single stitch of clothing that would feel more at home in a nightclub than a library. Closing the second drawer, she opened the top.

Again, nothing. Not a thong, not a single piece of lace. Even her bras were dull -- all supportive practical, and padded. Her eyes settled on a stack of white undershirts. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she considered a possibility. She returned to the mirror, slowly unbuttoning her blouse, pulling it off the show the beige version of the bras she'd just been rummaging through in her bureau.

Reaching back, she undid the clasp and let the bra fall to the floor. Her breasts weren't large, but they were always her favorite part of her body. She pulled on the undershirt, and sure enough, you could make out the faint outline of her nipples. Growing hard, they poked out against the sheer fabric.

But did she dare?

"I'm going out!" Claire shouted as she passed her roommate and the group of friends that sat around their kitchen table, enjoying a bottle of wine.

Her roommate turned, surprised. "Where are you headed?"

If Claire didn't happen to love her roommate, she might've been offended by the shock in her voice. As it stood, there was no getting around the fact that Alison's surprise was genuine, and that her going out on a Friday night was strange, bordering on bizarre.

"I've got a date," Claire said. She watched her roommate's eyes drift down to settle on her chest.

"Enjoy," Alison said, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

Claire rolled her eyes. "Goodnight, be good." With that, she walked out the front door, realizing as the door closed that it was unusually cool. She got an immediate chill, and looking down, realized the cold air would do nothing to ease the self-consciousness she was already starting to feel toward her choice in attire.

Jason's house was no more than a ten-minute walk. Deciding to get it over with as quick as possible, she set off at a pace somewhere between a fast walk and a light jog, arriving six minutes later more than a little out of breath. Steadying herself for a moment, Claire knocked.

Nothing.

Leaning in, she could make out the clear sound of a sports broadcast and chatter. Then, all at once, like the sound car backfiring, the loud sound of cheers, making her take a small step backward. Annoyed, Claire stepped forward and hammered on the front door with her fist.

"Coming!" she heard, followed by the growing sound of heavy footsteps. The door swung open and Claire found herself glaring at a man's chest. Tracing her eyes upward, she found a familiar face. A handsome face that she couldn't quite place. Was he on the football team with Jason? Brady? Bradly?

"Hi, I'm Claire," she said reaching out her hand. Brady or Bradly fixed the annoyed look that he'd worn on his face when he'd opened the door and reached out, taking Claire's hand in his own. It was large and heavily calloused.

"Bruce," he said. "Come on in." His eyes moved shamelessly up and down her body as she walked past. The house was a small step up from a frat house. Movie posters lined the walls, and there wasn't a surface in the place without an empty beer can. Walking into the living room, four guys looked up at her from their seats-- but not one of them was Jason.

Bruce followed Claire into the room. "What, were you guys raised by wolves?" he said to the room. "Introduce yourselves."

The boys grunted their names in turn, most not bothering to take their eyes off the TV, which was hooked up to a laptop and showing an illegal stream of a college football game. Judging by their respective sizes and interest in the game, Claire guessed that all of Jason's roommates were on the football team with him.

"Is Jason upstairs?" she asked, turning to Bruce. The boys behind her all jumped up out of their seats once again, high fiving and yelling.

Bruce offered a wordless apology and once the shouts of let's go! died down, he leaned against the wall to deliver the bad news. "Jason didn't think to get your number or he would've told you himself -- he had to run home. Family emergency. But he should be back in an hour so if you don't mind waiting."

Claire glanced back at the scene in the living room. Bruce let out a low laugh. Obviously, it was plain on her face that she did, in fact, mind.

"If it makes you feel better, it was pretty clear Jason feels like shit about it. I know he was looking forward to uh..." he paused, shamelessly letting his gaze linger on her chest. "Studying."

Left with two equally unappealing possibilities, Claire weighed her options. One, leave Bruce and the bros to their game. But that would mean taking the long, cold walk back home and the humiliation of telling everyone her "date" left her high and dry. Second, finding a place on the couch and praying Jason showed up sooner than later.

"I'll tell you what," Bruce said, taking pity on her. "You don't have to wait down here with all of us. Let me show you up to Jason's room. He won't mind you hanging there until her gets back."

"Let's gooooo!" Another loud burst of cheers. Bruce cocked his eyebrow, gesturing toward the stairs.

Claire sighed. After deciding this plan was the best of the bad options available, she made her way upstairs, Bruce close on her heels. The staircase creaked loudly, and she could practically feel Bruce's gaze on her ass with every step. Somehow it never occurred to her that Jason was, fundamentally, a jock. Why should she be surprised that his roommates were, too?

"Straight ahead, right at the top of the stairs," Bruce said.

Jason's room was in no way discernibly different than the rest of the house. While you couldn't call it "dirty," you certainly couldn't call it clean either. Dirty clothes were piled in the corner of the room. There was the faint smell of weed in the air that Claire attributed to the bong sitting on the desk opposite the unmade bed.

They stopped in the doorway, Claire unsure where to sit given that every surface bore either laundry or some other mess. She leaned against the door frame, eager to dismiss Bruce and maybe do a little tidying up until Jason arrived. After all, wasn't she being a little harsh if he was in the middle of dealing with a family emergency? Maybe he'd be embarrassed about her being there if he had no time to clean.

"Thanks for walking me up," she said.

Bruce leaned against the other side of the door frame. It was weirdly intimate, having him so close. The noise from the game drifted up the stairs, but he gave no indication that he wanted to get back to the action. "So, are you and Jason an item, then?" he said.

"An 'item'? Like going steady, you mean?" Claire teased. "Grabbing root beer floats before the drive-in movie?"

Bruce smiled. At least the brute had a sense of humor. "I think you know what I mean," he said. "Are you hooking up?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"That feels like a 'yes.'"

"It's a 'mind your own business.'" Claire said. "But for the record, no we're not "hooking up" --certainly not 'an item.' I'm here to study for our final, if you must know."

"Study?" Bruce said, biting his lower lip to stop himself from laughing as he gazed out over the room. He nodded as his eyes settled back on her. For the first time she noticed they were amber. Claire had never seen anything quite like them.

"Is that so hard to believe?" she asked.

"No, maybe not. But in my admittedly limited experience, people who are going to study typically carry books. Or at least bring a pen." His eyes shot down to her empty hands, which Claire self-consciously put in her pockets. She felt her cheeks flush. In the excitement of choosing her outfit for the night, she'd somehow forgotten her bag. She watched as Bruce's amber eyes once again traced upward, making no effort to hide the fact that they lingered, once again, on her breasts.

Claire moved to take her hands out of her pockets and cross her arms over her chest, but she stopped herself.

Did she like it?

"So, if you've got all the answers, what am I here for?"

Bruce leaned forward. She could feel her cheeks flush again. His smell was subtle, but stood in stark contrast to the room around her: cologne combined with his own musky scent. He smelled like a man.

"Not college football," he whispered. He leaned back. "Let me show you around," he said, gesturing into Jason's room. Claire paused. She wasn't used to being alone with strange men. She also wasn't used to being treated like this... Like she was easy. But wasn't that what she wanted, standing in front of her mirror twenty short minutes ago?

Up to this point, she'd lived a life of restraint. Her entire existence was defined by the maxim that less should somehow always be more. Staring at Bruce in the doorway, she decided tonight would be different. Tonight, she would find out if sometimes more is more.

Gently she pushed off the doorway as Bruce studied her carefully, probably wondering if she was about to slap him or leave -- maybe both. Instead, Claire sauntered in Jason's room. With a proud grin on his face, Jason followed, closing the door behind him with a click.

"You think pretty highly of yourself, don't you?" Claire was already filled with doubt. She couldn't help but think that in a few minutes, Bruce's friends would start to wonder what was taking him so long. At what point would they glance up the stairs to see the closed door?

"Do you want me to keep flirting? Or do you want what you came here for?"

The butterflies Claire had felt back in her bedroom returned with a vengeance. For the first time she could remember, she didn't have something clever to say. No witty repartee.

Bruce moved a few steps closer. "Take off your shirt."

Claire's mind raced. She thought of the roommates downstairs that would soon suspect what was happening. Of Jason and what he would think of this happening in his room. If he might come home sooner than expected. Tentatively, she reached down and held the bottom of her shirt. Her heart was hammering in her chest. In one smooth motion, she lifted her shirt over her head and dropped it on the floor.

Despite her now standing topless in the middle of the room, Bruce didn't break eye contact. His gaze held Claire's, and she understood this wasn't about seeing her naked. Not entirely, anyway. It was about control.

"Good girl."

The words had a profound effect. The butterflies in her stomach disappeared all at once, replaced by a throbbing ache in her pussy. A sudden need to be filled. All thoughts outside the man standing three feet in front of her were driven from her mind.

"Your pants."

This time, she didn't hesitate. Her hands fumbled for the buttons on her pants. Once free, she slid the trousers down her legs and tossed them gently on top of her shirt.

"All of it."

Claire glanced down at her black panties. Slowly, she pulled them down, exposing her pussy. She hadn't thought to trim her bush, but in this moment, she didn't much care. The panties joined the pile at her feet. She was naked. Bruce stood before her, completely clothed. She'd never felt more vulnerable. Less in control. More overcome with lust.

"What did you come here for?" he asked.

"To get fucked," Claire answered. It felt freeing, to say it out loud.

"So ask for it," Bruce answered.

Vaguely, Claire realized she was rubbing her pussy. She hadn't been aware of deciding to, but it sent pleasurable waves through her body that made her eyes droop lazily. "Can I suck your cock?"

Bruce made no movement.

"Please?" Claire said, hearing the genuine pleading in her voice.

Bruce reached for his pants, undoing the button, unzipping the fly. Reaching in his briefs, he pulled out his penis. Evidently, his amber eyes weren't his only unusual asset. The length was impressive in itself, but it was his girth that made Claire's knees weak. She stumbled forward, lowering herself to the floor in front of him.

From this perspective, he seemed impossibly tall. His cock, impossibly big. It throbbed for her, and she took it in her hands, her middle finger unable to meet her thumb when she held it in her palm. She opened her mouth and leaned forward, but Bruce grabbed her by her hair and stopped her.

Claire let out a frustrated moan. Bruce smiled at this, pulling her hair so she looked up at him. He took his cock from her hand and bounced it off her face with a series of satisfying smacks. Claire closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of his hot erection on her cheek.

"Jesus," Bruce said. "Where did Jason find you?"

Bruce let go of her ponytail, and Claire wasted no time taking him greedily into her mouth. She was fingering her pussy again, moaning as she choked on his girth. She felt the satisfying drip of saliva fall from her mouth and onto her chest. Taking some with her hand, she rubbed it on his balls.

Bruce let out his own loud moan. His pants fell to the floor. He took off his shirt, exposing his broad chest and shoulders, then reached down to push Claire further down on his cock. He was losing control, and Claire relished bringing him to the same carnal place she had occupied since dropping her panties on the floor.

"I don't have a condom," Bruce said.

"I don't care."

They were the words Bruce had wanted to hear. He bent down and, grabbing Claire under the arms, he lifted her from the floor like she weighed nothing and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced off the cheap mattress, and then resumed rubbing her clit, pulling gently at her nipple with her free hand.

"Spread your legs."

Claire obeyed, moving her thighs apart to give Bruce a clear view of her pussy.

"Wider."

Claire reached down and pulled at her knees. Bruce didn't take his eyes off her glistening cunt. He spit on his hand and rubbed the large head of his cock. Claire whimpered with anticipation and the smallest bit of trepidation at his size.

"You'll be alright," he said. Leaning forward, he brought his cock to her opening and started teasing himself inside her. Claire felt her pussy stretching to accommodate him, every small bit of pain followed by an intense and growing wave of pleasure.

"Is this what you wanted?"

"Yes..." Claire said desperately.

His cock moved another inch inside her, pushing deeper.

"Yes..."

He pushed deeper still. Claire wasn't sure how much more she could take, then with a final motion of his hips he thrust forward, entering her fully. Claire let out a guttural cry of pleasure. "I'm your slut!" she whispered. Then again. "I'm your slut," she repeated over and over as he fucked her, looking down to admire the way her pussy gripped tight on his shaft.

Claire could already feel the familiar build of pleasure coiling inside of her, waiting to be released, but it was a feeling she'd only experienced with her vibrator to this point. The thought of finally, blissfully, cumming on a cock -- on Bruce's cock -- consumed her, further tightening the coil of pleasure. It was now demanding release. "I think I'm going to cum," she heard herself say.

Bruce attention moved to her face, surprised at how quickly she'd been brought to climax. Registering her thoughtless look of surprise and pleasure, a smirk played across his face, and without changing his tempo, he thrust just a little bit further inside of her. The coil threatened to explode.

Bruce leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "I'm going to cum on your face."

The coil snapped. Claire went quiet, silently jerking with pleasure as she came harder than she ever had in her life. She felt a rush of wet escape her, amplifying the sound of Bruce's balls slapping against her ass as he continued to fuck her. The world seemed to dim. She was aware of nothing but the rolling waves of pleasure.

Vaguely she registered that Bruce pulled out from inside her. That she was moving to her knees by the edge of the bed. She fully came back to reality as she felt ropes of cum falling on her face. Without prompting, she opened her mouth wide and took his cock in her mouth once again, swallowing with each twitch of his cock.

She had never swallowed cum before. She felt like a natural.

She looked up to see Bruce admiring her with a mix of disbelief and pleasure. He brushed her cheek with his thumb. They sat for a few moments like this, with a level of comfort that implied they'd known each other for a lot longer than they had.

"I should get back downstairs," Bruce said.

Claire expected to feel annoyed. Guilty. Anything, really. But she didn't. The sense of contentment remained. Bruce pushed himself off the mattress, and Claire took his place, lying back in Jason's bed. She admired him as he walked across the room. His athletic figure and complete confidence that expressed itself in his every movement.

"Stay," she said. The feeling she'd experienced when she took off her panties was rising once more.

"I can't," Bruce said.

"But I want more."

"Yeah well, there are four more guys downstairs that would love to get to know you better," Bruce said with a chuckle. When Claire didn't answer, he glanced back toward the bed as he collected his clothes. He had to do a double take. She was nodding.

"You can't be serious," he said.

Claire nodded again. Bruce brought his hands to his hips, shaking his head. "No," he said.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Are you jealous?" The words had their intended effect. Bruce bristled at the suggestion that anything, especially a girl he'd just met tonight, could do anything to undermine his confidence. "You want me to go down and there and say what?"

"If they want me, I'm here. Waiting."

"All of them?" He couldn't keep the incredulousness from his voice.

Claire thought for a moment. She watched Bruce as she decided exactly what she wanted out of this moment. She noticed his cock beginning to stiffen again as he watched her, naked in bed, covered in cum, deciding how exactly she would like to be fucked by the football team.

"One at a time," she said.

Bruce remained in place, hands still on hips, apparently waiting for her to change her mind. When she didn't, he put on his clothes, took one last hungry look at her, then opened the door and left the room. Claire heard him walk down the stairs. There was loud chatter and some laughs when Bruce entered the room. Unable to make out his exact words, she heard him, in low tones, pass on her message. More laughter. Then quiet as Claire imagined the truth set in -- this was no joke.

It was no more than thirty seconds before she heard a man leave the living room to the sound of cheers and whistles. As she heard the heavy steps of somebody coming up the stairs, she spread her legs in invitation to whoever was coming through that door next.

~

Jason hit the curb as he pulled up outside his house in his used Honda Civic. "Shit!" he shouted as he looked to the clock on the dashboard. 9:26. How had time got away from him? It was just after five when he'd got the call from his mother. His grandmother was moving into assisted living, and she needed him to come help with the move. "An hour, tops," as his mother had put it, had turned into three and a half.

At this point, he couldn't decide which option was worse: Claire had long since left or she was in there, waiting for him for three hours. Maddeningly, all his texts to his roommates asking for updates went ignored.

Jason grabbed his bag and headed inside. The front door was unlocked. Again. He walked into the living room to find his roommates sitting lazily in front of the TV, watching the game. "None of you answer your fucking phone?"

As if they were trying to piss him off, they all laughed. Jason looked to Bruce, deciding if he wanted some straight answers, it was best to appeal to his best friend directly. "Is she still here?"

Bruce nodded slowly. "Oh yeah," he said. They all laughed again.

"What does that mean?"

"Go see for yourself, man. She's got a surprise waiting for you."

"Can you tell me what's going on in plain fucking English?"

Bruce leaned forward and gestured toward the staircase. Giving up, Jason dismissed his friends with a wave and headed upstairs. "Claire?" he called out. No answer. As he approached the top of the stairs, he could see the light was on his room and the door was open. He walked in, and it took a minute for him to process what he was seeing.

Claire was naked in his bed, lying on her stomach. As he walked in, she turned to see him, making no effort to cover her breasts or exposed pussy. His gaze lingered for a moment, before he ripped it away, covering his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect..." He trailed off. Didn't expect what? For her to be waiting for him naked in his bed?

When he got no response from Claire, he peeked from behind his hand. She looked unphased, her finger over her mouth, signaling for him to be quiet. Jason let his hand fall to the side. She gestured him toward the bed.

As he approached, Jason found himself questioning if this was really the Claire he knew from class. Her usual perfect ponytail was now a mess. Her eye makeup was running, her lipstick spread over her face. If he wasn't mistaken, Claire -- carefully curated Claire -- was covered in cum.

"Are you alright?" he said.

Claire nodded with enthusiasm.

He had to stop himself from stepping backward as she reached out for the fly of his pants. Claire looked up to him, her sweet, beautiful smile shining through the mess of makeup and cum. He was already hard by the time Claire removed his cock from his pants.

She started sucking him sweetly. Slowly. Moving her lips up and down his shaft, working his sensitive head with her tongue as she moaned. It appeared she was enjoying it at least as much as he was.

"Good girl," he said. The words escaped from him without thought. He wasn't sure he'd ever said the phrase in any of his past sexual encounters, but here, it felt so right. Claire stopped sucking him off, and looked up to him with a hungry smile. A smile that said she wanted more.

"Take off your clothes," she said. "Lie down on the bed."

Jason glanced back at the open door.

"Don't worry about them," she said. "It's your turn. They won't come in."

Jason obliged. Fully naked, he lay down on the bed. In a slow movement that made him feel sure that Claire was feeling sore, she moved on top of him. Rising up, she took his hard cock to her pussy and slowly lowered down. She was tight but so wet -- so slick -- that he moved inside of her without trouble.

He watched her pussy lips move down to the base of his cock, and when he was fully inside her, he carefully looked over every inch of her body as though seeing it for the first time.

Her perfect tits. How many times had he rubbed one out in this shower to the thought of her breasts? Exploring her with his eyes, he started to appreciate just how much cum Claire wore. On each breast. On both sides of her face. Her stomach.

"What do you want to know?" Claire said.

"Everything," he said. And he meant it.

Claire began to ride him steadily as she told him about Bruce escorting her up to the room. Getting her naked. Sucking his cock. Swallowing his load.

"That's when I asked him to send up the others. One at a time."

He reached out and cupped her soft breast in his hand as she continued to stroke him.

"After Bruce, it was Tommy. He bent me over the edge of the bed and took me from behind. He treated me like a slut, and I liked it." Claire traced her fingers down the right side of her face. Jason felt sure she was remembering where he had cum.

"Then Robert," she continued. "He didn't want to be inside me without a condom, so I let him fuck my tits" She pushed her breasts together, showing him how'd she'd held them for him.

"I don't remember the third or fourth guy's names, but they're the ones built like lineman," she said.

Casey and Max, Jason thought.

"They didn't care we didn't have a condom. They wanted to fuck me together. I let them. They took turns fucking me on all fours, right there on the floor, while the other sat on the bed fucking my face," she said. "They took their time with me." She moaned as she remembered and sucked on her thumb at the thought.

Jason could feel himself building to climax and started to moan. Claire brought her attention back to the task at hand and rode him with greater urgency.

~

As she rode Jason hard and fast, Claire thought back on the one memory she chose not to share.

It was of Bruce, coming up the stairs to visit her for a second time. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her by her ponytail to the floor at his feet. While she took him once more in her mouth, Bruce shouted down to his roommates downstairs, demanding updates on the game as her head bounced up and down on his cock.

When the opposing team scored a touchdown, he pushed her head down in frustration. There was something about being used in this way -- like she was a toy, an inanimate object -- that sent waves of pleasure through her body. It was in that moment she discovered she could cum from giving head.

Claire remembered it fondly as she watched Jason thrust up into her, and bit her lip as he contorted with pleasure. She enjoyed the feeling of him filling her up and waited. After a few moments, he started to relax back into the mattress, a look of pure bliss on his face.

He only opened his eyes when she began affectionately stroking his face. He smiled up at her, and she smiled right back.

"Now," she said. "What did you want to ask me about the final?"