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[Hello all! This is my second story for Literotica. If you like it, comment! If you have feedback or comments, I’m glad to hear those as well. UPDATE – I got some much-appreciated copy edits and suggestions after first post, so I’ve got some edits that clean up the flow and correct a couple of minor errors.]

“Hurry and cum in my mouth,” said Aaliyah. “We’re gonna be late for class.”

In the disused and musty stairwell, she resumed her frantic and sloppy gobbling of my cock, adding some wrist-twisting strokes of her hand along my shaft to complement the eager attention of her mouth.

Her soft, greedy slurps echoed in the stairwell. Then she moaned. The vibrations of the moan sent me over the edge. I cursed softly, and my hands twisted in her dark hair as my hips bucked forward. I could feel my cockhead bumping against the back of her throat, as spurt after spurt of jizz splashed into her willing mouth.

Aaliyah got up from her kneeling position and flashed me a dazzling smile. White, even teeth contrasted starkly against her dusky skin. She wiped a stray glob of fluid from her cheek and into her mouth, licking the finger clean. The smile turned to a mischievous grin.

“Put that greedy thing away and zip up,” she said. “We have Fluid Mechanics in about three minutes.” She smoothed her dark hair into place, then tugged her clothing into a chaste and proper alignment.

She spared me a coy glance over one shoulder before rushing out of the alcove and up the stairs of the Engineering building.

I watched her departing butt flounce about under a demure floral skirt, her delicious buttocks looking like two puppies wrestling under a blanket. I zoned out for a moment, my softening cock still poking out of my jeans. The scent of her lingered, jasmine and clean sweat overlaying the institutional smells of dust and bleach.

During a moment of post-nut clarity that was becoming more and more common, I realized I didn’t know if I wanted to keep seeing her.

***

“So, your fundamental problem is that you’re getting your dick sucked too often?” asked Kelly. “Shit, Noah! I know a lot of guys that wish they had your problems, eh?”

Kelly snorted and then ignored me to focus on the wall in front of the rack as he started banging out some squats. The bar flexed with each rep and plates clanked dully as he went through a heavy set. His legs moved with almost mechanical precision and speed.

Kelly Fraser is my best friend.

As freshmen, we met two years ago, both new to the school and to the rowing team. We bonded during orientation and never looked back. He was from Toronto, at school on a scholarship just like me.

Varsity rowers are usually tall and strong without being too bulky. The prototype seemed to be lanky, clean-cut guys, 6’3″ or 6’4″, maybe 220 pounds. I fit right in.

Kelly is a bit of an anomaly–he’s taller and heavier, and just crazy strong. Clean cut is also not how you’d describe him. His long, wavy hair is coppery red, and he’s got a thick beard to match. He looks more like a temporally displaced Viking warrior than a marketing major. Picture a ginger Jason Momoa that says “eh” and “aboot”, and you’re most of the way there.

People often assumed Kelly was some sort of hick because he was from Canada, but Toronto’s a big, cosmopolitan city. His Scots-Irish immigrant parents owned a convenience store. He was middle class, and he’d seen and done a lot more than I ever had. He had a natural charm and always looked so effortless when he talked with girls. I don’t think he’d spent more than a week without a girlfriend since we started school. People just gravitated to Kelly. My social circle was larger and brighter because of him.

Me? I’m actually a hick – you’ve never heard of my hometown, and it boasts exactly one four-way stop, a collection of silos, and a co-op feed store. Cows outnumber people by better than five to one in my county. I am complete shit at talking to girls, and it felt like a miracle that Aaliyah was my girlfriend.

Well, it kinda was a miracle. But more on that later.

Kelly grunted his way through a last couple of reps and racked the weight, then turned around, his ginger brow furrowing as he fixed his gaze on me. We were alone in the varsity weight room at this late hour.

I shrugged. “I know, I know. She’s beautiful, she’s funny, she’s smart. I’ve also been in her mouth in like half the buildings on campus already.”

Kelly let that statement marinate for a minute. We stared at each other while the HVAC whirred in the ceiling above.

Finally, Kelly arched an eyebrow. “And…?”

“And that’s it. Her panties never come off. That’s the rule,” I said. “Her dad is some big-deal guy back in Lebanon and she’s going back there after she finishes her degree. She was a virgin when she left, and she has to be a virgin when she goes home. There’s some kind of arranged marriage deal. It’s all very Game of Thrones.”

“Right. But she still sucks your dick like it owes her money. All fındıkzade escort the time.”

“Yes.”

“Is it bad? Does she use her teeth too much?” Kelly bobbed his head back and forth and noisily gnashed his teeth, one hand gripping an imaginary penis as he mimed a blowjob.

I squeezed my water bottle and squirted him in the face. “No. Shithead. She’s great. Really great. But that’s it. That’s all I get.”

Kelly laughed and wiped his face. Somehow, his beard and hair looked even better with that splash of water and a casual wipe. Goddam Canadian. Handsome bastard could fall down a flight of stairs and break his nose, and it’d just make him seem better looking – adding ‘character’ to his chiseled features.

He looked at me, and his expression changed. His brow furrowed for a moment, and I could tell he was giving my problem Serious Consideration.

“So. You’ve got the scoop about her need to remain virgo intacta. You’ve talked to her about it, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“This relationship has a fuse on it. She finishes her degree and then she pulls a Keyser Soze back to… Saudi?”

“Lebanon. But yeah.”

“So, it’s all just gonna stop at some point anyway, but you’ve decided that it’s not good enough that she’s giving your redneck meat whistle constant and lavish attention with her mouth?”

“Jesus, Kel. When you say it like that, it makes me sound like an asshole.”

“If the sphincter fits…”

I made exasperated strangling sounds in my throat.

Kelly snickered and then gave me a wicked smile. With his red hair and bushy brows, it made him look positively Mephistophelean. “Okay. Okay. Relax. I’ve got you. The solution to your problem is spelled K-E-L-L-I. You are gonna like this solution.”

I groaned. “Please tell me you haven’t started spelling your name with an ‘I'”.

“Nope. New girl I’ve just started seeing.” Kelly hitched a foot up to rest on one of the squat rack’s safety bars. He posed for a moment. Then, he took on a world-weary tone, the epitome of a cosmopolitan man educating his bumpkin friend. “She’s a transfer student from Utah. Varsity volleyball, a full ride jock, just like us. Oddly enough, we hit a minor speed bump in our blossoming relationship. It has important parallels to the situation with you and your olive-skinned beauty.”

“And?”

“Kelli’s a loophole virgin.”

“What the hell is that?” I asked.

“Jesus Murphy! Don’t they have the Internet in East Bumfuck, Iowa?”

“We do, but we only use it for wholesome and godly purposes. We’re not out there browsing for clown porn and shopping for discount Viagra like some of these disgusting Canadian perverts I keep hearing about. So, what’s a loophole virgin?”

“We shall continue your carnal education at a later time, young Padawan. Get under the bar – you owe the iron gods a set of eight.” Kelly banged on the barbell with one hand and stepped out of the rack, pointing imperiously at me.

Kelly’s a smartass, but he’s also the best friend I ever had. I stepped under the weight and tried to focus on the workout instead of fantasizing about Aaliyah.

***

I’d noticed Aaliyah on the first day of classes in freshman year.

Yeah. Me and every other guy in our cohort for Mechanical Engineering. She was hard to miss.

She stood a full foot shorter than I was, but she packed lush and dangerous curves into that tiny frame. Her golden-tan skin practically glowed around almond-shaped eyes of dark amber, flecked with gold. High cheekbones framed her delicate, slightly upturned nose, leading to full, bow-shaped lips that smiled a lot. Her jet-black hair cascaded in thick, glossy waves past her shoulders, reaching the small of her back.

Aaliyah tended towards simple styles and modest, classy clothing choices. You never saw her wear yoga pants or a tight top to class. She was always… put together. But she didn’t hide her body away under bulky clothes, either. She just didn’t flaunt it. Nor did she need to.

That girl moved like a horny teenaged genius had designed her hips in a lab, sculpted out of some sort of frictionless polymer. Walking behind her was an exercise in inadvertent gluteal hypnosis. After we got together, I learned that she’d taken years of Raqs Sharqi lessons (that what redneck hicks like me call belly dancing). The first time I watched her walk across a room, I couldn’t look away.

For two years, she ignored me almost entirely.

She had some friends in the cohort, who were also international students from the Middle East. They were social with the rest of us, but their little clique stuck together. They often chatted away to each other in Arabic. Engineering classes were small enough that she knew who I was, but I don’t think she said more than a couple of dozen words to me in the first two years of our program.

Everything changed in September of our third year.

It was a little after 10 p.m. and I was jogging home from the aksaray escort gym after knocking out an hour’s worth of interval sprints, rowing on the erg. Tired, but happy with my training, I cut around behind the field house on the north side of campus. I headed for a trail that cut through a thickly wooded area.

Sternly worded signs proclaimed the big woodlot was ‘PRIVATE PROPERTY’ and that ‘TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED’. I’d been taking the trail since partway through sophomore year and had yet to be prosecuted. It saved me 20 minutes of walking time to get to my apartment, which was a big deal for someone who had my schedule.

Most students at my school were pretty big into following rules, so I rarely saw others on this secluded and illicit trail. Sometimes, I liked to pretend that it was Fangorn Forest. I half expected to see an Ent in there, now and then. So, I did not expect to hear some voices and scuffling in the forest that night. Rounding a bend in the trail, I came across three guys beating up Ahmed.

Ahmed was one of the guys from Aaliyah’s clutch of friends in our Mech Eng cohort. A stocky, short, and soft-spoken guy from Egypt, he was really smart and always seemed kind to others, but he wasn’t much of a physical presence.

The assailants had progressed to the part of bullying where they kicked the victim on the ground and taunted him in between kicks. It was getting ugly.

Maybe I was just jacked up on testosterone from the workout, but some kind of sheepdog-protector reflex kicked in. I turned my jogging into a sprint and just shoulder tackled one of the three bullies. His breath whuffed out of him and he flew back, landing on his ass.

I intended to say something chill-tough like “Get the fuck out of here, assholes!”

What actually came out was more like “Get ass here, fuckholes!”, in a MUCH higher register than I’d intended.

Maybe it was just that I was a lot bigger than Ahmed. Maybe my high-pitched word salad had them thinking I was a deranged lunatic. Either way, the two standing guys helped their buddy up off the ground, and all three of them fled.

I went to check on Ahmed. He was hurting, and he looked pretty messed up, but he was conscious. He asked me not to call the police and if I could help him get home. I told him I thought that was a terrible idea, but he insisted. Coasting on the dregs of my sheepdog protector feelings, I agreed.

Ahmed smiled and immediately passed out.

Which was how I came to be standing on the doorstep of a student townhome near campus, cradling Ahmed in my arms and smiling stupidly up at Aaliyah when she opened the door.

I helped her get him inside and cleaned up a bit. The others from their little group were all in the townhouse. Her classmates were also her roommates, five of them sharing the house.

Probably from the adrenaline come-down, I turned into a complete chatterbox.

I gave Aaliyah a ludicrously detailed account of what had happened. I narrated the scene, described the assailants, and detailed how I’d found Ahmed. I somehow also found it important to share that I sometimes imagined the woodlot was Fangorn Forest. Aaliyah surprised the hell out of me by lighting up at that reference.

Before I knew it, we had patched up Ahmed and set one of the other roommates to watch over him. Then Aaliyah and I drank tea and spent a couple of hours debating nerdy Tolkien stuff, like whether Tom Bombadil should’ve gotten at least a token appearance in the movie trilogy.

I’m sure my heroics with Ahmed also helped, but yes – it was my nerdy enthusiasm for Tolkien that helped me capture the attention of this unattainable siren that I’d been watching from afar for two years.

Ahmed recovered, and he sort of unilaterally declared I was welcome in their group. I found myself invited to some of their study sessions.

One day in class, one of the other girls shyly brought me a container full of baklawa. If you’ve never had it before, the Lebanese take on walnut-stuffed filo pastry drenched in syrup is mind-blowingly tasty.

As if this was some sort of ritual invitation, all the others in the little group gravitated towards me and I became accepted in their group. Two weeks after I rescued Ahmed, Aaliyah and I were an item. We talked and texted long into the night for the first week or so and then we started to get intimate.

***

She gave me “the talk” pretty early on. We were at my place, in my room. We had been making out and things were getting hot and heavy. I’d unhooked her bra, and she’d unzipped my pants. Our clothes were on, but the touches and caresses were getting more and more serious. My hands were busy on her breasts and her hands had found their way into my pants.

Aaliyah’s eyes flashed with desire, and she moaned when my fingers found her nipples and stroked them. The musky scent of her arousal floated between us. Her hands were in my pants, touching, teasing, stroking me in a eyüp escort way that left me no doubt she knew her way around a cock. She teased my frenulum with a thumb, rubbing dribbles of pre-cum around in maddening little circles that were making me squirm with pleasure.

Aaliyah gently pushed my hand away when I reached for the waistband of her fashionable jeans. Her hand kept busily stroking my cock, but her face grew serious. It was a damned confusing pairing – I felt like I was about to get a lecture, but she never once paused in administering pleasure to me.

“There is something you must know about me, Noah. I am promised to another, and when I return to Lebanon, I will marry this man. I must be a virgin when I do this,” she said.

I was finding it tough to concentrate on her words, but I managed something pithy like “uh-huh?”

“This means two things for us,” she said. “First, it means that my underwear will stay on, and you will keep your hands out of my pussy. This is not negotiable. Second, it means that while we can share a glorious today, there is no tomorrow for us. When I finish my studies, I will return home, and I will wed the one to whom I’m promised.”

Her hands neither changed pace nor technique, and I felt my cock grow still harder as I contemplated the stark ephemerality of this budding relationship. Aaliyah’s tone was neutral, but something in her eyes spoke of loneliness – and perhaps regret behind the resolve. This entire speech felt practiced, and I suddenly realized I wasn’t the first guy she’d given it to.

“I have always known this was my path. I like you, Noah. You’re a good man, a strong man, and I think you’re very attractive – even when you get awkward,” she said, smiling. “Can you accept these limits?”

It felt like cheating that she was continuing to jack me off as she made this pitch. That’s a helluva negotiation tactic. When I thought about it, I realized I liked this girl, and I was willing to take what I could get. I’m also a smartass, so I made a joke out of it to cover the thread of disappointment within my acceptance.

“Hey, I’m a firm believer in consent,” I said. “Just like the seminar they gave us in freshman year. If that’s all you’ve got to give, I’ll take it. I like you, too.”

Aaliyah cooed, and then nearly did me an injury as she ripped down my jeans and dove at my cock, mouth first. I lasted all of about three seconds before cumming. She swallowed every drop.

By late September, Aaliyah was devouring me several times a week, with an enthusiasm that I had never seen outside of porn. She appreciated my attention to her breasts, and she was having orgasms just from that.

In fact, she said that sometimes just deep throating me gave her an orgasm feeling from her throat. The way she moaned and writhed while doing it, I believed her. Over time, she trusted me to touch her clit, but I had to promise I wouldn’t let my fingers slip any lower.

I worked on my fingering game, doing a lot of reading and watching untold numbers of instructional videos. From the moans and thrashing that I evoked from Aaliyah, I think I got pretty good at it.

By early November, I was complaining to Kelly about not being able to get into her pants.

Yep. I know. I’m a shitheel.

***

As it turns out, Kelly’s new girlfriend, Kelli, was also saving her virginity for marriage. While Aaliyah had focused all of her energies on oral, Kelli had taken a different approach.

She was letting Kelly put it in her butt. That was the loophole. She kept her hymen intact by having Kelly penetrate her… other hole.

At first, I was kinda grossed out. I mean, I am nowhere near being the puritan Christian boy I’d joked about with Kelly. Somehow, anal just wasn’t something I’d ever thought about as an option. Butt stuff was part of pornography and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t seen it before. But I’d never gravitated towards it, and it wasn’t a thing I fantasized about.

Kelly was disgustingly cheerful about it all. “Noah, get with the program. Your cock will love you for it.” As the weeks passed, he began a relentless campaign to evangelize me about the merits of anal sex. It was like hanging out with a CrossFitter… or a vegan.

One day, the three of us were sitting in Kelly’s beat-up Buick Century, queued up in the drive-thru line for McDonald’s. We athletes made liberal use of their humble cheeseburgers as low-cost fuel for our always-hungry bodies. I was in the back seat, having given Kelli the shotgun position like any gentleman would.

As usual, Kelly was waxing eloquent about the merits of anal. Instead of blushing or denying it as you might expect, Kelli had joined in and was supporting his claims.

I got flustered and mumbled something about it being gross and unnatural.

Kelli turned around in the passenger seat and leaned into the back of the car. She loomed over me and looked me dead in the eyes. “Noah, you just have no idea. No vibrator in the world has ever gotten me even close. Whenever I get married, the lucky guy that puts a ring on my finger is going to keep on fucking my ass. There is no way that I’m giving it up. I have never, ever cum so fucking hard as I do when Kelly’s in my ass.”

I felt a heat rising in my cheeks and between my legs as she stared at me and dropped this sexual truth bomb.

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