Deborah Westbrook's POV:
Hanging out with Terry Cassius was like floating in heaven. When we first met at the library, it was sort of awkward and since I was the boring girl that every guy avoided, it was difficult to get something to speak about.
But it seemed that didn't bother Terry at all. He leaned closer, a smile on his face, and he asked me questions, complex but easy to answer.
How was I doing?
How was my day today?
That day was filled with a plethora of activities. I recalled spending time in the college garden after we were done talking in the library which primarily got us kicked out because of some noise complaint.
After the garden, he took me to the park, we got ice cream and finally we reached the chill out spot where I was sure I had a couple of alcoholic drinks.
That night was a blur, but I remembered stumbling back and forth like a rag doll. I usually had a history of taking in huge amounts of drinks that left me woozy, but I think I took a lot that night.
I remembered laughing, talking and for the first time in my life I felt alive. It was like all that bullshit was off my shoulders.
School, family legacy. Fuck all that. I was free to do whatever I wanted and since Terry Cassius was fine with that, why not try something?
We stumbled into his dorm and the silence punched me. There were no roommates of his, no voice. Just us and the cold.
Either he lived alone or I was too fucked up to notice anything else.
His room smelled like lavender. As I was led to the mattress it felt like I was being controlled. That small surrender made my whole body clench with some sudden, shameful heat.
I didn't want to feel like this. I didn't want to be this person that so desperate. But I was already soaked before I even lay down.
Catherine used to talk about wanting like it was nothing. I always thought I was different—curious, sure, but never like this. Never shaking, never stupid with it. So why now? Why did the ache between my legs feel like it was holding my heart hostage?
I grabbed his wrist tightly before I could talk myself out of it. The only words I had left were broken.
"Fuck, fuck... Fuck.."
This time I was sure it wasn't the booze taking hold of me anymore. It was my very own self. That ugly, starving version of me that couldn't give a fuck if I ruined myself.
I wanted more, so I dragged him closer. I could see that he was shocked, from the way his face was—he didn't want this. But I needed him inside me.
Clothes came off as they offended us. His perfume hit harder now, dizzying, like it was crawling inside my lungs. I climbed on top of him, shaking, trying to look like I knew what I was doing. His body was unreal. And when I saw how thick he was, how hard his dick was, something inside me cracked.
I'd never touch anybody like this, but I was sure he enjoyed my hand service. The way I stroked his cock could kill him at any moment.
The way it looked was unreal, with each stroke, I could feel the veins on his cock grow thicker. Now I was curious to see how it tasted, so I leaned down.
I tasted it, licking it just a bit. It was salty, the smell was unnatural. I wanted to back away, but there was no point backing out now.
So I did it—I sucked him. It was rough but I loved every second of it.
The sound he made was priceless, it was like he enjoyed my service. Could it be that he was new at this too?
He didn't see me clearly, but I was smiling. I took him deeper. The taste was filthy, I felt like throwing up, but the warmth was amazing.
He tried to stop me.
"Deborah… please. We shouldn't."
So I obeyed. I took my mouth off, the pre-cum dripping off my mouth. I gagged.
This was so disgusting, the taste was horrible, but I didn't mind. I wiped my mouth.
When I looked back at him, he was already exhausted, panting like a beast under the heat. His dick was already covered in saliva, dripping with pre-cum.
In that moment, I had two choices.
Could I let this go? Or... Could I continue and enjoy myself?
The only valid answer was to stop. I didn't.
I was sure from his point of view when he saw me on top of him, he was scared shitless.
I simply apologized before taking a seat. His dick was massive, I could feel my pussy tearing apart. I wanted to scream but Terry was quick to cover my mouth.
We both looked into each other's eyes. I could tell he was disappointed in me, but I was wrong.
"I'll be gentle," he said.
What did that even mean? My question was answered as I felt my body jerk upwards.
"OHHH... OHHH Fuck!"
The words tore out of me like they'd been waiting years. He kept moving. Harder. Deeper.
The sensation I felt was as if I had taken shots of ecstasy. He was too big for me, and my nerves were crying.
The pain has already reached my legs.
Was this how sex looked and felt? It was amazing.
"Harder," I sobbed. "Please, Terry—fuck me harder. Ruin me."
"Yes... Deborah!" he said, "You're so fucking tight,"
By the end of it all, when he pulled out and spilled all over the bed.m, it was like something was taken from me. My virginity was just one of them.
Now I felt soulless, like an empty shell.
——
That night was something I wasn't going to forget. The scent, the groans, and the unimaginable joy I felt.
I couldn't remember what happened next, I had already fallen asleep. Now this definitely felt like a dream and I was ready to wake up from it.
The next morning, I awoke to the sound of an alarm clock, something I was sure we never had in our dorm.
Did I really dream, or not?
I had to make sure, "Catherine since when did we have an alarm clock?"
I received no answer, and now I was scared. I remembered opening my eyes completely to the scent of lavender, the same scent from last night, and as I looked up at the ceiling, it didn't seem familiar.
This felt confusing at first. But when the realization hit me, I knew it was over.
Ah shit. I repeated in my mind.
The covers on my body looked different, covering my nudity.
There was no sign of Terry anywhere which, to put it short was a relief, taking the covers off I rushed, putting on my clothes that were sprawled all over the bed.
I remembered frantically gathering all my belongings, I didn't even bother to see how I looked or bother myself with how I felt, I just needed to leave that place.
But, unfortunately, it wasn't. Before I was given the chance of stepping outside, the door opened and it would only be one person who was going to show himself.