Indian Girl

‘Hold still, baby,’ I said. ‘You don’t want to do it with little bits of toilet paper stuck all over your pussy.’ I was shaving her with a blade. She wanted her cunt to be slick bald, without a hint of stubble. I had heard that same kind of excited protest for more than a week. ‘You’re going to make me show them my asshole?’ she’d whimper, and I’d cruelly respond, ‘And squeeze it for ’em in the spotlight, Big Tits.’ She’d squeal in horror and her pussy would drip fucking-juice. She was hot enough to melt a lead dildo by the time that night came around. We had picked out what she would wear very carefully–such as it was. As I got her ready, she was all but vibrating with excitement. She had to put a washcloth on her pussy to absorb her fluids, or her dress would have been soaked when she sat down, and she had to change it twice before we actually got to the club. We went in the back. There was a huge crowd in front of the club, of guys who thought they were going to get in without. ‘Hey Sara.’, Scott says to his girlfriend. ‘Hey Scott.’, she says as she lays down, spooning into him. He wraps his arms around her stomach as she looks back at him. He kisses her soft, red lips. First softly, then he kisses her again, longer and harder, feeling her soft, moist lips against his. ‘So how was your day?’, he asks, his face just inches from hers. ‘Oh it was great.’, she says in a sarcastic voice. They talk for several minutes, but as more people pour into the commons they have less and less privacy. ‘Hey lets go up to my dorm, we can talk more there.’, suggests Sara. ‘Sure, why not?’, replies Scott, eager to be alone with her. They walk out of the commons and down the hall, then turn and head towards the back staircase, the one that is almost never used. They head up until they hit floor three, one of the girls’ floors. Sara goes into the floor first, checks that it is clear, and then Scott follows her. Scott can’t get caught on a girls’ floor, it was the biggest rule.
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