Innocent Milf Ch. 27

Chapter 27

Summer passed so quickly, I barely had time to register it.

I returned from Rendezvous and our prehistoric getaway to find that Eric had gone to my work at Disc Divers' Delight and told my boss that he had seen me stealing CD's. Unfortunately for him, I had already given my boss a heads-up about Eric, whom he recognized. Eric also claimed to have seen me doing so on a day when my boss was the only one working, and I was on vacation. He got laughed out of the store by my boss, who told him not to come back.

Cary finally gave me my graduation present--a brand new flat-backed bluegrass mandolin with pickups for electric if I wanted to plug in to an amp. My original mandolin was an arch-back, and I was delighted by this new toy. When I protested that it was too much, Cary simply smiled and shook her head. "I want you to keep making music. This is as much for me as it is for you," she demurred. Ty and the rest of the band thought it sounded great, and I spent hours playing all my old favorite songs on it, just to hear how they sounded different on a new instrument.

Sascha and I met up a few times; I returned her Foxfire books and told her that everything had gone well, and that we even seen a herd of elk wander through our campsite. Jack and I hung out almost as much as Cary and I did. And, of course, I had a few more bluegrass gigs with Ty, Randy, and the rest. Ty continued to be super cool about everything, and told me that Carla and Miles in particular had asked how Cary and I were doing, and hoped all was well. I tucked that away for later.

The hinted threesome with Samantha never materialized or was even mentioned again, mostly to my relief. I was happy with just Cary--a threesome seemed like the sort of thing you did with a couple of hot girls for a one-night arrangement rather than with your long-term partner. That made me think of Ty and his swinging friends again, and I revised my opinion--they probably had threesomes and more all the time with folks that they intended to see the next week. Regardless, spending time in and out of bed with Cary was more than enough for me.

Cary's kids had always liked me, but as I spent more time in their presence they really seemed to warm up to me. Patrick had opinions about comics and Nintendo, and was delighted when I offered to go to the comic-book store with him some time to pick some out. Annie told me I reminded her of one of her teachers, and demanded that I read selections from Beezus and Ramona to her. Having read some Henry Huggins stories when I was younger, I was amused to be cracking the spine on a Beverly Cleary book again. Annie pronounced that I was "a good reader" because I did different voices for each character.

From time to time, I wondered if Eric had ever actually hired a private investigator, or whether he had gotten tired of his manipulations and machinations after the divorce went through. Whatever the case, he was less of a hassle for the rest of the summer. My last day at Disc Diver's Delight, my boss shook my hand and told me I was always welcome to come back and work summers for extra money, and we laughed about Eric's poorly-conceived attempt to sabotage me.

My group of closer friends planned one last outing with six of us: Sascha and Alex, Jack and Jenna, and of course Cary and I. Dinner at a steakhouse downtown, visiting a bookstore, and then "cosmic roller skating" made up the itinerary. Each couple had chosen one of the activities. Of course, Sascha was responsible for the neon-lit roller-skating.

I tried to dress up a little and look like I belonged in a fancy steakhouse. White button-up shirt sans tie, gray blazer, and dark jeans made me look like some hotshot junior executive on a TV drama. At least, I hoped so. Jack had gone upscale as well, wearing a shirt, tie, and slacks as well as a vest, but eschewing a jacket in the heat.

Sascha was dressed in a vintage flapper dress, complete with rhinestone-crusted cap. Jenna had picked out a new close-fitted red dress with spaghetti straps and a wide V-neck that looked like something Cindy Crawford would wear. I could tell Jack loved it. Of course, I only had eyes for Cary. Her new dress was white and sleeveless with a flared, pleated skirt and a heart-shaped cutout just below the neckline. Classy and elegant, it fit her perfectly.

Just after we sat, I gave Cary my going-away present: a simple gold bracelet engraved on the inside with our initials and a delicate tracing of vines on the outside. Cary teared up and hugged me for a long time before pulling away, her smile radiant. She had already thrust her right hand into the bracelet and was adjusting it and showing it off to Jenna and Sascha.

"Way to make me look like a cheapskate," Alex mock-complained. "I didn't think to get Sasch anything."

Sascha patted him on the head. "It's okay. Matt and Cary have their own thing going." Jack and Jenna gave each other an unreadable look. I wondered if this was their last date, or if they planned to keep trying to make things work throughout college, despite their earlier declarations.

Cary surprised me by reaching into her purse and withdrawing a small gray box. I raised an eyebrow, and she stammered. "Now don't get the wrong idea. I just wanted to get you something to remember me by while you're away. It looks like we were on the same wavelength." So saying, she opened the box, revealing a shimmering silver-colored ring. It was shaped like a class ring, but had no design or inscription--just a dark gray glimmering stone cut in an oval dome.

"Whoa!" I reached for it, but Cary took the ring from the box herself and slipped it onto my left index finger. I took a moment to marvel at its dark sheen. "Is this hematite? How did you get it the right size?"

Cary blushed. "I measured your finger while you were asleep." Ignoring Jack's snicker, she continued, "Yes, it's hematite and white gold."

Mementos given, we ate an excellent meal and reminisced with one another, as well as chatting about college and plans for the future. Cary had all sorts of ideas for next year's Rendezvous, and Jack was planning a complete overhaul of his impression. Sascha intended to contact her local neo-pagan group for college, or start her own if one didn't already exist. She had also recently developed an interest in computer-aided forensics.

Cary and I had suggested the bookstore, and the six of us spent an hour after dinner wandering around picking things out for ourselves and each other. We didn't all leave with something, but I found a book called Outlander for Cary that I thought she'd like--by the blurb on the cover, it seemed like a good mix between Clan of the Cave Bear and Last of the Mohicans. She found me a book called Dune which I had heard of, but never read.

Lastly, we went to Rockin' Rinks. It was a mainstay of kids' birthday parties; I hadn't been here since I was twelve, and certainly never this late at night. Feeling overdressed but goofy, we all swapped out our shoes for skates. Soon we were stumbling and sliding across the hardwood floor in the semi-darkness while a disco ball threw rainbow glimmers across the floor and walls. Pink Floyd blared from speakers at least as old as me.

I had never been great at skating, and clearly neither had Cary. We laughed and clung to each other, trying to work out how to move in the graceful circles that Jack and Jenna pulled off so effortlessly. Sascha seemed to be a competent skater. Alex was even more hopeless than I was. All in all, we had a great time, capped off by ice cream from Baskin Robbins just as the none-too-pleased lone employee up front had been about to close things down.

Cary and I made some last memories of our own in her apartment.

And then summer was done.

Two days later, I stood in the dorm room of college as my parents waved goodbye and departed down the hall. I had moved my stuff in--more than I would have guessed--and now stood trying to decide whether it would be better to wait until my roommate arrived to play rock-paper-scissors for the top bunk, or whether to just put my pillow and coverlet up there and count on the venerable tradition of "I called it first."

Our meeting wasn't very long in coming. I was sitting at the desk nearest the window holding the novel Cary had given me, and noting that there were several appendices, some maps, and a section titled Terminology of the Imperium preceding the book proper. Bemused, I glanced up as the door rattled and then opened, revealing a dark-haired scarecrow of a guy. All of his clothing, from his faded Levis to his white T-shirt with a cartoon character on it and some foreign writing, looked too big for him.

"Hi," I said, standing up and extending my hand. "I'm Matt, your roommate."

He looked at me as if weighing variables and doing computations. Finally, he accepted my handshake. "Aaron. Aaron Sheffield. Some people think it's funny to call me 'Egg.' Please don't."

I raised an eyebrow. "Uh... sure. You got it. Consider this room a 'no eggs allowed' fortress."

He frowned. "That would mean I'm not allowed."

"Ha. Okay, maybe we just declare that egg is a forbidden word." What was with this dude?

He nodded, satisfied. "Like ni, or it," he replied cryptically, before glancing at the bunkbed. "I call bottom bunk."

"You got it. I thought we were going to have to flip a coin or arm-wrestle for the top bunk." I smiled, to show I was at least partly joking.

Aaron's voice went deep and toneless. "To arm wrestle an opponent of your stature to determine sleeping arrangements would be most illogical." He stared at me intently, as if waiting for a response.

"I... is that a Star Trek reference?" I asked, flummoxed. "The alien guy--Spock?"

Relief washed over his face. "Okay, I think we can make this work. Help me with my TV--it's in the van."

"I thought freshman weren't supposed to have TV's in their dorm rooms," I answered.

He was already halfway out the door. "Then don't tell anyone. As far as anybody else is concerned, it's just a monitor for my 486."

* * * * *

He was a strange one, and clearly hadn't gotten out much. That being said, my new roommate and I got along well enough. It became very clear to me after the first week that he had never been responsible for picking up after himself before. I wasn't used to behaving like a neat-freak, but Aaron's tendency to leave his dirty clothes in particular all over the place made me feel like one.

We were both interested in history. His major was Japanese history, and I intended to minor in early American history. We both had an appreciation for pop culture, although he was an even bigger nerd than me. It seemed like every other phrase out of his mouth was a reference to some sci-fi movie or TV show. He also insisted on showing me some bizarre but compelling Japanese cartoons that he called Japanimation.

Our first weekend hanging out, he withdrew a VHS from his collection under his bed featuring a wild-haired dude wearing goggles and riding what I later discovered was a futuristic motorcycle straight towards the viewer. Akira was a fascinating experience for me. I was shocked to see animated tits--even briefly--and bloody dismemberment. Aaron watched with occasional glances towards me, to see how I'd react.

"Well?" he asked afterwards, "what did you think? Amazing, right?"

"It... was, yeah," I answered slowly. "And weird. But pretty impressive. A little hard to follow, but the imagery was awesome. Way better than Disney."

Aaron grinned. "Japanese animation is usually way better than Western stuff. I've got a whole bunch. You'll see." He scratched the top of his eyebrow. "It's based on manga. Comics," he clarified, noting my incomprehension. "Hundreds and hundreds of pages. So they cut a bunch of the story out. That's why it didn't make as much sense."

"We should watch Dune some time," I suggested. "I'm halfway through the book that my girlfriend gave me, and I remember they made a movie of it when I was nine or ten." It seemed like the sort of thing Aaron would like.

"Your girlfriend Cary," Aaron prompted.

"Yeah." I grinned. My first order of business after arriving in the form room, before even meeting Aaron, had been to call Cary and give her the phone number for my dorm room. I quickly discovered that the cord for the cream-colored phone mounted next to the front door was able to stretch to the top bunk without too much trouble--as long as I lay with my head towards the door. I tried to keep from constantly tying up the phone line in consideration for Aaron. Of course, he spent a lot of time tying up the phone line by connecting to AOL and the internet, so I didn't feel that bad.

For his part, Aaron seemed to regard my having a girlfriend as some sort of mystical achievement, and peppered me with questions. They started as fairly innocent 'how did you meet' and 'what is she like' questions, but after the first week or so, they had started to get a little more invasive. 'Have you guys ever done it' and 'what does she like to wear' made me frown and tell him that sort of stuff was private. Even if I did feel like bragging.

Chagrined, he backed off, and I realized that he had probably never even kissed a girl in his life. Once he confirmed that one of his goals freshman year was to finally get a girlfriend, I felt sort of sorry for him, and decided that even though I was no expert, I would try to give him some advice. I saw him flush and turn into a stuttering doofus more than once whenever a girl walked by, and resolved to at least help him to have a real conversation by the time the campus Halloween party rolled around.

Especially after how our first mixer went.

Aaron was clearly psyching himself up to even walk in the door as we approached the building. He had been making comments throughout the day about how fun it would be and how he might even get lucky. To me, it sounded very much like somebody trying to convince himself. I wondered if this was the first party he had ever been to besides birthday celebrations as a kid.

For my part, I found the mixer to be a strange experience--it seemed astonishingly tame after having left high school with an alcohol-fueled high-concept sex-soiree. By comparison, a group of nervous freshmen of varying levels of life experience all trying to seem sophisticated and clever felt more to me like a high school party. Especially since college staff were on-hand to answer questions, it gave the feeling of being chaperoned by "real adults."

That was where I first noticed that Aaron suffered a sort of social paralysis around girls. He had only attended the party under my strong encouragement to begin with. I spent a fair amount of time hanging out near the edge of the room, talking with some of the history majors, and Aaron joined me. One of our little group was a bespectacled dark-haired girl almost as tall as me, wearing jeans, flannel, and a pink tube-top underneath. She was pretty enough to draw a glance from me. Aaron on the other hand couldn't take his eyes off her--especially after she made mention of a TV show called Sailor Moon that Aaron evidently recognized.

She asked about my ring (which I wore everywhere except to sleep or in the shower), and I told her it was from my girlfriend. After that, she introduced herself to me as Beth, and hung around the small group for the rest of the evening. Which meant that Aaron hung around for the rest of the evening. I suppose knowing that I was already spoken for made me seem like a "safe" guy.

Every time I tried to bring Aaron into the conversation, he froze or mumbled. The rest of the group was pretty forgiving of his awkwardness, and Beth's eyes lit up when Alex stuttered that his major was Japanese history. When it seemed clear that he was incapable of getting more than a few words out, I came to his rescue and helped carry the conversation until he was able to nod along or insert a monosyllable or two in support or agreement.

He sure didn't seem to be having much fun--to say nothing of getting within a mile of his intention to 'get lucky.' When the DJ turned up the music and started encouraging people to dance, I put down my Pepsi with an eyeroll and nudged Aaron. "Come on, dude. We should at least make an attempt."

Beth's eyes widened. "You guys are gonna dance? Let's go!" She pulled a few of the other girls along with her. Some danced enthusiastically, others seemed about as excited as Aaron, who may as well have been an oak tree rooted to the ground. He gave me a goggle-eyed glare and shook his head almost imperceptibly. I leaned towards him and said quietly "It's no big deal. And girls like it when you dance. Come on, all you have to do is stand near the edge and sort of lean back and forth with the music."

He followed like a man being herded to his execution. But to his credit, he followed my instructions almost to the letter. I danced as a social obligation to try to make other people more comfortable--this was nothing compared to the excited stress of ballroom dancing in front of a bunch of horny swingers and working to keep an eye on my girlfriend as other guys tried to feel her up. Beth stayed near Aaron and me, and danced badly nearby, mostly consisting of a sort of bouncing two-step that looked like something out of an old Cyndi Lauper video. I would rather have watched Cary dance any day of the week, but Aaron was captivated.

When she threw her hands up, her flannel flapped open, revealing her belly beneath her tube top. I thought Aaron was about to pass out. After a few minutes, I returned to the edge of the room and looked at the clock: I'd danced enough, and Aaron needed a way out. "All right," I said to our small group. "It's been real. Good to meet you all. I need some fresh air."

Aaron and I took the long way around to our dorm, getting a cool breeze as we walked. The yellow-orange sodium lights glared across the quad, throwing our shadows tall and distended against the square columns of a nearby building. Aaron blew out a sigh. "Beth was a total babe. Schwing! I'd love to go out with her."

Knowing that it was goading, but also feeling like Aaron could benefit from some gentle pressure, I raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't you ask her out?"

"Ha!" His confidence--which had been growing in direct proportion to our distance from the party--evaporated instantly. "Easy for you to say. She was listening to every word you said."

"She was listening to everybody," I answered. "If you had said more than a couple of words, she would have listened to them, too. She seemed really interested in your major. And you clearly recognized her Moon Sailor reference."

"Sailor Moon," he corrected. "It's another Japanimation."

"See?" I chuckled. "You found probably the only other person on campus who knows what that is. You should talk to her."

"It's not as simple as you make it look," he groused. "I don't know how you just... do it."

I tried to keep from frowning. "The same way you're talking to me now. Find something you both like and talk about it. Or find something you know nothing about and ask about it. Girls have interests and lives just like guys do. They're not magic--they pee and fart just like the rest of us." Maybe growing up with an older sister had kept me from forming some of the mystique around girls that some guys built up in their brains.

Aaron's face registered a combination of amusement and shock. "Even Cary?"

I laughed, despite the stab of yearning her mention summoned. "Ha. Yeah, even Cary." I touched my ring unconsciously with my thumb as I said her name, and Aaron's gaze went to my hand.

* * * * *

The first month was a whirlwind. I was so busy with classes and trying to juggle the homework and reading that I almost didn't have time to be downcast. Almost. I missed being with Cary--either just to have fun and hang out, or our more intimate moments. I talked to her every few days, and told her about everything happening. She kept me updated with what was going on in her life.

"I miss you," she said each time we talked.

"I miss you too," I said, and meant it. Not only was I feeling pretty pent-up (there was only so much jerking off in the showers I could do), but I missed our easy rapport, and Cary's sense of fun and adventure. Being deprived of both a girlfriend and a best friend simultaneously except for phone calls was tough. At least I got to talk to her fairly regularly.

In the meantime, college was busy but not as brutal as I had feared. Having nearly a full semester's worth of credits from AP classes already, I decided to try to get ahead of things; maybe I could even graduate early like Cary had. I enjoyed my music, literature, and history classes, and plodded through my math without too much heartache. I practiced my mandolin when I could, but missed having regular band practice or gigs.

I also missed knife practice--and not just seeing Jack and Cary. It turned out that early American Bowie knife was a pretty obscure and unusual martial art. I had known that Instructor Joe was a bit of an anomaly, but looking for a substitute while at college really underscored the extent to which I had lucked out in finding him and my group of knife-nerds. Of course, I asked Cary how practice was going constantly.

What I did find was an Aikido Club at the college, which at least kept me moving and thinking competitively. Aaron was enchanted by the idea, and came out of his shell enough to start attending practice, even though he told me that he really had hoped to study a martial art called iaido. I got the idea that half the reason he did it was to impress Beth. I even talked him into coming with me to the fitness center for workouts from time to time--he was scrawny and self-conscious, but improved steadily.

Fall break was a new concept for me--I hadn't had one of those in high school. So when the college reminded us that we'd have a week off near the beginning of October, I was excited. Cary suggested that she come out to Tempe to have me show her around for the weekend: I enthusiastically agreed.

When I saw her car pulling up into the visitor's lot, my heartbeat shot up. Before she was completely out of her seat, I was lifting her up and hugging her as she laughed. She wrapped her legs around me as I held her in the air, and we both breathed each other in for a moment before kissing. I could feel her relaxing into my embrace.

"God, I missed you," I said into her neck. "I miss being able to touch you."

"Mmm, me too." She snuggled up against me, and then let her feet slowly dangle down. "Uh, are you going to put me down?"

"Nope." I shook my head. "I'm not letting you go for the next 48 hours, at least. Hey, your hair got longer! It looks great." It was nearly halfway down her shoulder blades now.

"It's more of a pain to take care of, but I like to look pretty for you. Especially if we only get to see each other sporadically." Cary giggled, and released her hold on my neck, stepping back to do a critical up-and-down sweep of me with her eyes. She grinned. "You're wearing my ring!"

"Of course. I never take it off," I answered. I had noticed that she was wearing my bracelet, which she touched fondly as I spoke. I wrapped my arm around her waist. "Come on, let's drop off your suitcase before I show you around campus. My roommate is heading back home for the weekend in just a few minutes."

Her smile buoyed me as we walked arm-in-arm back into my dorm. There was no sign of Aaron, and I put Cary's suitcase into our little closet. To her questioning raise of eyebrows, I answered, "Juuust in case the RA comes to check in on things. We're not supposed to have overnight visitors."

Cary's grin was devilish. "Oh, you reckless rulebreaker, you."

I nipped at her ear. "The worst kind. Incorrigible."

We made a circle around campus for about an hour as I pointed out the music hall, the various lecture halls, dorms, and administrative buildings. It wasn't quite as good as wandering around the natural parts of a big city park, but it was close. Just having her by my side and holding hands was almost as intoxicating as when we had first gotten together months ago. I sighed.

"Doing okay?" Cary asked.

"Oh, yeah. Just thinking of that old saying 'absence makes the heart grow fonder.'" I squeezed her hand. "It's so good to have you here. I missed you so much."

We talked about her work, my school, and about our single contact from Jack that each of us had. I had also gotten a letter from Sascha, written on old-looking paper. It wouldn't surprise me to find out that she had used an antique fountain pen. I told Cary about it and we both chuckled at our quirky friend.

"I'm having a good time here," I said after a lull in the conversation. "But I think I can only do this if I get to see you on a regular basis."

Cary thought. "Hmmm. It only takes an hour and a half to get here from home. Maybe I could just come out once a month."

"We could alternate. I could come down for a long weekend every other month if I get things arranged." I thought about it. My parents would probably be happy to have me home for a little bit every other month. I would probably need to explain to them why I wasn't spending time with them, though.

As if reading my mind, Cary said, "We could arrange it on the weekends when Eric has the kids, and you could stay with me."

We talked over the logistics of trying to see each other once a month, agreeing that Cary should come back out for the campus Halloween party. I didn't want to babysit Aaron for the whole night. Maybe Cary's presence would make him feel like a fifth wheel--and consequently be more proactive in seeking out his own company and conversation. Or maybe he'd just shut down and disappear. Either way, I resolved to have some fun just for me and Cary. We spent some time talking about what our Halloween costumes should be, and I suggested going to a movie over the weekend.

"Sorry I only got to call for your birthday," Cary said. "How is nineteen feeling so far?"

"Not much different. My parents mailed my Genesis and a new game for me, so Aaron and I got pizza and played Streets of Rage 3. I finished reading the book you got me. Dune. It was pretty interesting. I may pick up the sequel." I traced my fingers along her cheek. "How about you? Have you read the book I got you?"

Cary smiled. "Outlander. Boy, did you pick a good one. And there are sequels to that as well. It makes me want to take a trip to Scotland with you." She pressed herself up against me. "It makes me want to do other things with you, too. Do you think your geeky roommate is gone by now?"

I grinned. "Gotta be. Allow me to introduce you to the top bunk."

We didn't quite run back to my dorm, but anybody watching us would have had little trouble guessing what the couple that was holding hands, giggling secretively, and fast-stepping across the quad was about to get up to. I had been jogging on mornings when I didn't have class, so I was in pretty good shape still. Cary was, too. I commented on it.

"I've been going to Curves when I can," she said. "Can't have some skinny college girl stealing you away from me."

"No chance of that." I squeezed her bottom, and she squeaked.

She nodded. "You better believe it, mister. I've gotten a couple of new outfits just for this weekend, to make sure you remember me." I didn't reply, but thought about it silently as we returned. Was Cary actually worried about me finding a cute college girl and dumping her? It was such a ridiculous thought that I almost laughed out loud. It would be like preferring Burger King to a fancy steak house.

The coast was clear as we went into the dorm room. I closed the blinds and turned around. Cary was already pulling her clothes off. I pulled my shirt over my head as I walked towards her. Cary's eyes got bigger. "Wow. You're in even better shape than before! And I thought you were a hunk during the summer."

Embarrassed, I reached to pull her shirt over her head. "Are you kidding? Look at you."

She had been pretty before--even without my being besotted with her--but now she really did look like she could have been a Frederick's of Hollywood model. I could feel myself responding (and Cary could see it). She gently freed my dick from my boxers and immediately dropped to her knees. Standing barefoot in my dorm room and steadying myself on the edge of my bunk, I could hardly believe that shy Cary Bernham was so good at giving a blowjob. She swirled her tongue, bobbed back and forth, and sucked like her life depended on it. As I got close, I pushed head back a little, and she gazed up at me breathlessly.

"Good?"

"Ha. Jesus, yeah." I yanked her panties off and scooped her up, lifting her onto my bunk. She shrieked happily, and I had to shush her. She wriggled invitingly as I took a couple steps up the ladder and squeezed into the bed beside her. "How on Earth are you so good at that? You haven't been practicing, have you?"

Cary shook her head and smiled. "I've been reading up on some things."

"Man. Keep reading, whatever it is. Now come here." I pulled her towards me.

Cary swung her legs over me and sat on top, pushing her hands into my shoulders. As I entered her, she gave a shivering moan. "Oh, Matt. I've been needing you so badly. Six weeks was too long to wait." She dropped her weight down on me, and I speared up towards her. She clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her wail of pleasure.

Our first round didn't last too long, pent up as we both were. She bounced up and down so enthusiastically that she bumped her head on the ceiling. I felt her spasm around me as she did so, and I reached up to protect her head. She mistook it for pulling her into a kiss, and she hungrily leaned down, smashing her beautiful breasts against my chest and kissing me deeply.

When we had both orgasmed, we rolled up in the sheets and lay looking into each other's eyes for long minutes in happy quiet. Just hearing her breathe and feeling her skin against me got me hard again very quickly, and Cary grinned as she felt my growing erection. "I actually used my vibrator for the first time last month," she whispered to me. "You know, before you and I got together, I didn't have sex more than once or twice a year. And not happily, at that. Now I feel like I'm going on the worst kind of diet if I can't have you every couple of days."

I ruffled her hair. "I feel the same. Although I guess it's different for guys my age."

"Lucky for me," Cary smirked. "Well, just so you know, sir. You have put me well on the way to being insatiable."

"And here you're worrying about the college girls," I said. "Just don't tell the guys at knife practice."

Cary shook her head. "Only you. I don't feel that way about anybody else. But I just can't get enough of you."

"We have a whole weekend," I promised, before flipping her over and pulling her back into my chest. Kneeling over her and holding her by her breasts from behind, I pounded her. I figured we had the whole weekend to be slow and tender, but right now, I had weeks' worth of frustrated sexual tension to release, and Cary seemed thrilled to do the same.

After our second round, I was getting hungry. My stomach growled as I pulled Cary into my embrace. Her hair was an absolute mess, now, and her makeup had gotten a little smeared on my pillow. She looked wonderful. Cary touched my stomach with her fingers and trailed them up and down.

"Hungry?"

"Starving," I admitted. "How about you?"

"You know, I wasn't before we started..." she chuckled. I laughed along with her. She nuzzled her head into my neck. "Samantha still wants a threesome, you know. She was teasing me about it before I left today. But in a way that I could tell wasn't really teasing."

I shook my head. "What a weird thing to get hung up on," I muttered.

Cary shrugged. "We've talked, and I think I understand her position a little better now. Especially having had to do without you for six weeks. I'm not saying I'm ready to do it, but it doesn't make me as angry as it did when she first joked about it." She yawned.

"Take a nap," I suggested. "I'll go to the showers and get ready for dinner. You can go after me if you like. Everybody's key on this floor unlocks showers, so you can just take my key with you."

"Okay." Cary's voice was already getting muzzy with sleep. "Love you."

I rolled her into some sheets and climbed down the ladder, gathering some clothing and a towel. I made a note to bring an extra towel back for Cary, who was already breathing deeply with a smile on her face. I was absurdly pleased that I had screwed her to sleep.

I stretched and opened the door with a backward glance at my wonderful Cary. Once a month would be tough, but we could make it work.