Captain Pike
06-18-2009, 11:34 AM
There was definitely some kind commotion in the hallway. Philip lowered the volume on the stereo receiver and listened more intently. There it came again, a definite tapping sound on the outer door, there was giggling and some knocking about going on in the hallway at his roommate's door. Philip set down his book, opened the inner swinging door separating his room from his roommate's, walked through and opened the door to the hallway.
Immediately, his friend Christy was pushed through the doorway by another girl into Philips arms. He literally had to catch her. Christie was very wet, soaked through to the bone and, it seemed, quite drunk. Both the girls were acting silly and the girl in the hallway began to walk away, still giggling.
"Ho, wait a bit," Philip began, but he was interrupted by Christie's lament.
"I wanted," she was totally soaked by the autumn's warm rain that evening, "I wanted... to talk to you...", Christy looked up at Philip, her dreamy green eyes seemed determined although she was quite intoxicated and hiccuped, ruining the serious expression she had begun with. "Whoops... that just slipped out," she giggled looking away and wiping her mouth. "Can I, um... come in for a minute?"
Philip began to understand. Christie and he had been friends all last year and this new semester had already been characterized by their having many long talks in the cafeteria over multiple cups of coffee. A petite blonde, Christy had not been the type of woman to wear makeup or clothes which would accentuate her body. Philip's interest in her up to this point had been as a fun friend to explore crazy ideas and music with. He had never thought of her as ugly or even plain, just that she was almost, "one of the guys". He felt quite comfortable saying just about anything to Christy -- she seemed to understand him. Philip wasted his time pursuing more "high profile" women. Occasionally, he would have some success and be miserable for a time until he and his "trophy" ended the relationship.
Looking at her now, her disheveled orange sweater sopping wet, her hair plastered to her face and her tired little sneakers, squishy and squeaky on the linoleum, she looked like a little lost puppy to him and he smiled. Her nose and chin were symmetrically balanced; each was quite miniature and this suited her delicate and doll-like face. The door shut behind her and she either lost her balance or needed a hug, because she gently fell against him and wrapped her arms cautiously about his midsection. "May... maybe I shouldn't be here...", she seemed to be about to continue but instead just laid her head sideways against his chest and hiccuped silently.
"There, there, dear, it seems you've had quite a night." Philip embraced her, "where have you been?" She began humming a tune, what-do-you-do-with-a-drunken-sailor? "Here, let's get you out of these wet clothes", Philip began, thinking of what he had she could wear. Christie was only an inch or two taller than 5 feet and he was 6 foot two. They went from the outer room, where his roommate lived, through the swinging door into his bedroom. She began taking off her sweater and became disoriented and started fighting with herself under the wet sweater and began to fall over. Philip collected her gently and helped her to sit on the edge of his bed.
As he pulled the arms back through her sweater and began to fold it, she reached out and began removing his belt. "Wait, ho now, there, you don't want to do that, dear -- I'm not wet and all." Christy looked up at him and made a big, scrunched up smile, like a child.
"You're nice...", she trailed off and fell back and lie on his bed. She had a little white tank top on and her thimble-like nipples protruded stiffly beneath the moist cotton. Looking at her then, with her arms above her head, her honey blonde hair and a bit of her lower midriff showing above her wrinkled, wet Levi's, Philip's mind began to race. He had never thought of her in a sensuous way but here she was, looking like a moist, blooming flower to him, full of life and heat.
"No, no, no... what are you thinking?", he said in a trembling, subdued voice. Her sneakers had knots in the laces and when he removed her stockings, her feet were marked with the pattern of their cloth. Her feet were understandably wet and cold and Philip instinctively began to massage them, gently at first. There was a slight odor which would have embarrassed her had she been sober but which Philip rather enjoyed. He smiled and then shook his head. He wanted to remain a gentleman to his good friend.
"Yes yes yes...", she said in a dreamy, sing-songy kind of voice, her eyes still closed, her body still supine. "...ac--cen--tua-te... the... positive... You've ... got ... to...", she sang, softly along the little tune as Philip unbuttoned her trousers. This was more difficult than it looked. The wet denim material had a thick resistance and a plan of its own. Christie did extend her lower legs so that Philip could pull her jeans off by the cuffs.
What he saw in the soft yellow light of his reading lamp was startling! Her skin was soft and slightly tanned. Modest, white cotton panties revealed her delicate whiteness, apparently hidden by cut-offs from the past summer's blazing brightness. Her shape was subtle but tantalizing. Philip thought of all the times he had sat with Christie, even talked about other women, and all along, these delightful curves had remained hidden from his watchful eye. He had passed her by, never really considered her as viable girlfriend material. His mouth actually began to water a little but a sudden shiver from her snapped him out of his dream- stare. Opening her eyes laconically, she drummed the bed beside her, "hold me.", was all she said.
Lying beside her, she curled up within him and he pulled some of the bedspread around them. As if acting autonomically, his feet began to take each other's shoes off. With his arm around her and his chin nestled in her hair, he sniffed in a deep draft of her vague fragrance. An avalanche of thought and feeling flooded in. Some of what he smelled was familiar from times they had been close before. This invoked a comforting, warm, closeness which was both surprising and delightful. This was his good friend. Providing her this safety filled Philip with pride.
This manly stewardship gradually transformed into something more amorous and ultimately lascivious: his mind began again to flow with a salacious phantasmagoria, fueled by an augmented perception of her scent and subtle motion of her hips. He was aware of every square inch of contact between their bodies. He took his shirt off and held her closer. She began to undulate mildly while moaning something about how she had been so cold. She tried to fumble with his pants, he paused a bit before helping her. Then, finally, even with their underwear on, they fit very snugly together.
Philips mind was running wild now. Not a very long time ago, he had been sitting in his comfortable chair, drinking a cup of tea, reading a book while listening to the rainstorm's gentle assault on his window. Now a different kind of storm was brewing, only, the tempest was not in a teapot. He pulled a great down comforter over them both. His kisses on her neck didn't seem to have the response he imagined, so, after a few moments, he slid down into the darkness and found a knee.
Working his way slowly up, she rolled onto her back and the comforter slid partially off her, revealing her side and her angelic face. He moved upward. The exposed leg lifted at the knee and then slumped down again. His fingers pressed easily into her thigh finding sturdy infrastructure immediately beneath the surface. She was firm and taut. How could he have never noticed how beautiful she truly was? Like a skilled defense lawyer, the part of his mind responsible for the lower, more carnal functions began a tempting negotiation with his principled, decent self. He imagined how the next morning might began. Surely, there was a better way to take their relationship to this new, emotionally charged plane. Philip believed that an attraction had previously been there for Christie and he was open and willing to explore this new dimension with such a woman for whom he already had great respect and admiration for.
He pressed his face gently into the mattress and drew a deep breath, exhaling with resolve. She was drunk, no question about it and there were rules about this sort of thing. He thought of their friendship and her delicate vulnerability. If this happened with some other man and she were hurt, he would be angry at such a man for taking advantage of his dear and sensitive, true friend. He thought of silly things like serenading her outside her dorm room window or sending anonymous flowers to her room. It would be such fun making her happy. That was it, his mind was made up and doing the right thing always felt better. He rose up, with the intention of covering her over. His roommate was gone for the weekend, Philip could sleep in his roommate's bed, leaving the door open between the rooms so that when Christie woke up, she would be assured that nothing had happened.
Just then, Christie arched her back in a stretch, flexing her shapely legs and pointing her toes in a way that revealed her compact and muscular bottom. At the height of her stretching yawn, she let out a little squeak as she tilted her head. Something high in his chest moved gently, like a great oak tree swaying slightly in a warm summer breeze. Philip knew then these feelings couldn't be wrong. There she had been, all along, right within his heart. When she relaxed, his gaze was drawn to her prominent hip bones, one of which suspended the elastic top of her panties, offering a shadowed, crescent shaped opening. Philip had the crazy notion of blowing his warm breath into this opening, effectively inflating her unmentionables -- he shook his head again -- thank God for the privacy of thought. The millimeter thin material of her under garment was a frivolous gate between the perfectly acceptable past and a new and urgent future filled with passion and desire.
He fell upon her, this time pressing his face into her belly button and wrapping his arms around her hips in a surrendering embrace of her midsection. He wouldn't be mean. He would explain how he tried to resist. They would go to breakfast together and he would assure her that it had not been a mistake. Or maybe, he could bring her coffee and a muffin with some aspirin tomorrow. The loosefitting crotch of her panties could easily be pulled over, allowing access to... he looked up at her, just before he would use the tip of his tongue to investigate.
The expression on her face looked very much like the hot passion he expected, except for some wrinkles in her forehead which signaled something more like pain than passion. He lifted his head up further to better examine her face. She was really out of it, maybe even a little sick looking. She groaned a bit and tried to turn back on her side. Philip moved up beside her and helped her to roll away to her side and noticed she definitely looked a little green. She curled up some more and smacked her lips. He was ashamed of himself. He wasn't really a very good guy at all.
He pulled the comforter over her and then lie down on it beside her, folding the excess back around himself. Now the comforter separated them and covered them. He put one arm around her and the other one under her pillow and eventually fell asleep.
Immediately, his friend Christy was pushed through the doorway by another girl into Philips arms. He literally had to catch her. Christie was very wet, soaked through to the bone and, it seemed, quite drunk. Both the girls were acting silly and the girl in the hallway began to walk away, still giggling.
"Ho, wait a bit," Philip began, but he was interrupted by Christie's lament.
"I wanted," she was totally soaked by the autumn's warm rain that evening, "I wanted... to talk to you...", Christy looked up at Philip, her dreamy green eyes seemed determined although she was quite intoxicated and hiccuped, ruining the serious expression she had begun with. "Whoops... that just slipped out," she giggled looking away and wiping her mouth. "Can I, um... come in for a minute?"
Philip began to understand. Christie and he had been friends all last year and this new semester had already been characterized by their having many long talks in the cafeteria over multiple cups of coffee. A petite blonde, Christy had not been the type of woman to wear makeup or clothes which would accentuate her body. Philip's interest in her up to this point had been as a fun friend to explore crazy ideas and music with. He had never thought of her as ugly or even plain, just that she was almost, "one of the guys". He felt quite comfortable saying just about anything to Christy -- she seemed to understand him. Philip wasted his time pursuing more "high profile" women. Occasionally, he would have some success and be miserable for a time until he and his "trophy" ended the relationship.
Looking at her now, her disheveled orange sweater sopping wet, her hair plastered to her face and her tired little sneakers, squishy and squeaky on the linoleum, she looked like a little lost puppy to him and he smiled. Her nose and chin were symmetrically balanced; each was quite miniature and this suited her delicate and doll-like face. The door shut behind her and she either lost her balance or needed a hug, because she gently fell against him and wrapped her arms cautiously about his midsection. "May... maybe I shouldn't be here...", she seemed to be about to continue but instead just laid her head sideways against his chest and hiccuped silently.
"There, there, dear, it seems you've had quite a night." Philip embraced her, "where have you been?" She began humming a tune, what-do-you-do-with-a-drunken-sailor? "Here, let's get you out of these wet clothes", Philip began, thinking of what he had she could wear. Christie was only an inch or two taller than 5 feet and he was 6 foot two. They went from the outer room, where his roommate lived, through the swinging door into his bedroom. She began taking off her sweater and became disoriented and started fighting with herself under the wet sweater and began to fall over. Philip collected her gently and helped her to sit on the edge of his bed.
As he pulled the arms back through her sweater and began to fold it, she reached out and began removing his belt. "Wait, ho now, there, you don't want to do that, dear -- I'm not wet and all." Christy looked up at him and made a big, scrunched up smile, like a child.
"You're nice...", she trailed off and fell back and lie on his bed. She had a little white tank top on and her thimble-like nipples protruded stiffly beneath the moist cotton. Looking at her then, with her arms above her head, her honey blonde hair and a bit of her lower midriff showing above her wrinkled, wet Levi's, Philip's mind began to race. He had never thought of her in a sensuous way but here she was, looking like a moist, blooming flower to him, full of life and heat.
"No, no, no... what are you thinking?", he said in a trembling, subdued voice. Her sneakers had knots in the laces and when he removed her stockings, her feet were marked with the pattern of their cloth. Her feet were understandably wet and cold and Philip instinctively began to massage them, gently at first. There was a slight odor which would have embarrassed her had she been sober but which Philip rather enjoyed. He smiled and then shook his head. He wanted to remain a gentleman to his good friend.
"Yes yes yes...", she said in a dreamy, sing-songy kind of voice, her eyes still closed, her body still supine. "...ac--cen--tua-te... the... positive... You've ... got ... to...", she sang, softly along the little tune as Philip unbuttoned her trousers. This was more difficult than it looked. The wet denim material had a thick resistance and a plan of its own. Christie did extend her lower legs so that Philip could pull her jeans off by the cuffs.
What he saw in the soft yellow light of his reading lamp was startling! Her skin was soft and slightly tanned. Modest, white cotton panties revealed her delicate whiteness, apparently hidden by cut-offs from the past summer's blazing brightness. Her shape was subtle but tantalizing. Philip thought of all the times he had sat with Christie, even talked about other women, and all along, these delightful curves had remained hidden from his watchful eye. He had passed her by, never really considered her as viable girlfriend material. His mouth actually began to water a little but a sudden shiver from her snapped him out of his dream- stare. Opening her eyes laconically, she drummed the bed beside her, "hold me.", was all she said.
Lying beside her, she curled up within him and he pulled some of the bedspread around them. As if acting autonomically, his feet began to take each other's shoes off. With his arm around her and his chin nestled in her hair, he sniffed in a deep draft of her vague fragrance. An avalanche of thought and feeling flooded in. Some of what he smelled was familiar from times they had been close before. This invoked a comforting, warm, closeness which was both surprising and delightful. This was his good friend. Providing her this safety filled Philip with pride.
This manly stewardship gradually transformed into something more amorous and ultimately lascivious: his mind began again to flow with a salacious phantasmagoria, fueled by an augmented perception of her scent and subtle motion of her hips. He was aware of every square inch of contact between their bodies. He took his shirt off and held her closer. She began to undulate mildly while moaning something about how she had been so cold. She tried to fumble with his pants, he paused a bit before helping her. Then, finally, even with their underwear on, they fit very snugly together.
Philips mind was running wild now. Not a very long time ago, he had been sitting in his comfortable chair, drinking a cup of tea, reading a book while listening to the rainstorm's gentle assault on his window. Now a different kind of storm was brewing, only, the tempest was not in a teapot. He pulled a great down comforter over them both. His kisses on her neck didn't seem to have the response he imagined, so, after a few moments, he slid down into the darkness and found a knee.
Working his way slowly up, she rolled onto her back and the comforter slid partially off her, revealing her side and her angelic face. He moved upward. The exposed leg lifted at the knee and then slumped down again. His fingers pressed easily into her thigh finding sturdy infrastructure immediately beneath the surface. She was firm and taut. How could he have never noticed how beautiful she truly was? Like a skilled defense lawyer, the part of his mind responsible for the lower, more carnal functions began a tempting negotiation with his principled, decent self. He imagined how the next morning might began. Surely, there was a better way to take their relationship to this new, emotionally charged plane. Philip believed that an attraction had previously been there for Christie and he was open and willing to explore this new dimension with such a woman for whom he already had great respect and admiration for.
He pressed his face gently into the mattress and drew a deep breath, exhaling with resolve. She was drunk, no question about it and there were rules about this sort of thing. He thought of their friendship and her delicate vulnerability. If this happened with some other man and she were hurt, he would be angry at such a man for taking advantage of his dear and sensitive, true friend. He thought of silly things like serenading her outside her dorm room window or sending anonymous flowers to her room. It would be such fun making her happy. That was it, his mind was made up and doing the right thing always felt better. He rose up, with the intention of covering her over. His roommate was gone for the weekend, Philip could sleep in his roommate's bed, leaving the door open between the rooms so that when Christie woke up, she would be assured that nothing had happened.
Just then, Christie arched her back in a stretch, flexing her shapely legs and pointing her toes in a way that revealed her compact and muscular bottom. At the height of her stretching yawn, she let out a little squeak as she tilted her head. Something high in his chest moved gently, like a great oak tree swaying slightly in a warm summer breeze. Philip knew then these feelings couldn't be wrong. There she had been, all along, right within his heart. When she relaxed, his gaze was drawn to her prominent hip bones, one of which suspended the elastic top of her panties, offering a shadowed, crescent shaped opening. Philip had the crazy notion of blowing his warm breath into this opening, effectively inflating her unmentionables -- he shook his head again -- thank God for the privacy of thought. The millimeter thin material of her under garment was a frivolous gate between the perfectly acceptable past and a new and urgent future filled with passion and desire.
He fell upon her, this time pressing his face into her belly button and wrapping his arms around her hips in a surrendering embrace of her midsection. He wouldn't be mean. He would explain how he tried to resist. They would go to breakfast together and he would assure her that it had not been a mistake. Or maybe, he could bring her coffee and a muffin with some aspirin tomorrow. The loosefitting crotch of her panties could easily be pulled over, allowing access to... he looked up at her, just before he would use the tip of his tongue to investigate.
The expression on her face looked very much like the hot passion he expected, except for some wrinkles in her forehead which signaled something more like pain than passion. He lifted his head up further to better examine her face. She was really out of it, maybe even a little sick looking. She groaned a bit and tried to turn back on her side. Philip moved up beside her and helped her to roll away to her side and noticed she definitely looked a little green. She curled up some more and smacked her lips. He was ashamed of himself. He wasn't really a very good guy at all.
He pulled the comforter over her and then lie down on it beside her, folding the excess back around himself. Now the comforter separated them and covered them. He put one arm around her and the other one under her pillow and eventually fell asleep.