Author's vanity note: Let's start turning up the heat. I've cut this several times, and it is still the longest chapter yet. Sorry if it drags a little. Perhaps I should have cut more. Instead, I decided to keep up the momentum - the goal is still to finish a story. Thank you, dear reader, for your patience with the long build-up - we are nearly at the main body of smut :)
~~~~
Alice tried to remember how she'd gotten into this position. Everything before now was a blur, bliss clouding her mind. Earlier this afternoon she'd stolen Tristan's phone. And Stacy had... kissed her? That seemed unlikely. And then somehow she'd decided to come here, to Tristan's room. And then... explosions, waterfalls. Nice. She just needed a moment, then she'd be able to recall everything in more detail. She was safe, she was utterly relaxed.
She was sprawled out on Tristan's bed, her mind still spinning from her orgasm, barely aware of her surroundings. Alice lay on his cheap grey cotton sheets, her heaving chest kissed by the warmth of the sunset streaming through his window. With each gasp, the cosplay bikini subtly restricted her, reminding her of its presence. The chain of burnished copper hoops that had been so shockingly cold earlier were now a similar temperature to her body. The tiny soft leather triangles which protected her modesty struggling to do even that as her erect nipples pushed them away. As if they wanted Tristan to see them. At this point, maybe she did want him to see them. Being naked would be less embarrassing than this fantasy slave princess getup - though after that wonderful release she felt a lot more comfortable in it.
Her dusky skin had a lustrous glow, shining with droplets of sweat and... something else. Her body shivered as remembered what the substance was, and she tried to push the thought aside. She needed to keep that thought away or risk losing herself completely. Again. She focused on the feeling of the metal of the unlikely outfit, feeling how it marched in a flowing ribbon of glimmering metal rings across her upper body, catching and reflecting the little light there was. Holding and constraining her. Bottling and concentrating her. The light quietened as Tristan approached, as if it also felt her eager anticipation. Her black skin contrasted with his sheets, her clothes and his face... his face was just a couple of feet away from her molten center now.
Wordlessly, automatically, her knees fell wide open to admit his face. Like they were arms about to embrace him. Mentally any feeling of control she'd had fell away as she bared herself to his lips. She felt herself stir as Tristan's grinning face approached her pussy slowly, casting an advancing shadow. Alice mentally kicked herself - she should have at least pretended to offer a shred of reluctance. He'd think she was easy now! Though surely that ship had sailed fifteen minutes earlier, after she'd posed for him in this tiny bikini ensemble, which of course covered as little as possible, while he'd stroked his own... She felt the heat within her rise.
Before she could protect herself, she felt a gentle hand on her wrist. Tristan was pushing her arm underneath her leg, close to her knee. Understanding what he wanted, Alice obediently lifted her leg slightly so her hand could firmly grip her thigh from below. The same insistent pressure on her other wrist, the same result. Now she was holding herself open for him, spread out for him like a feast. She could let go at any time. She wanted to. She knew she wouldn't. Not intentionally anyway, and she'd won the last round in more ways than one. She felt her lower lips parting like a flower, offering every bit of herself to him.
She looked down at herself, blushing as she saw her legs wide apart on the bed, lewdly exposing her most private part. She felt uncovered, exhibited, uncomfortable. It felt strange. From this angle she looked like a pornographic version of herself, a mockup done on a computer, her mind in a pornstar's perfect body. She'd had boyfriends before; they'd gone down on her before - so why did this time feel so much more unprotected? Like her heart, not just her body, was open to him.
"If you'd like me to stop just say the word." Tristan interrupted, his quivering voice betraying his desire.
With a last surge of brilliance, the dying sun illuminated the room with little glints of light. As if it was giving them its blessing. The fading light cast the world in shades of monochrome, like a black and white movie, or one of the artistic shoots she'd helped with at work. This one starred Alice, as if she could ever be one of the models. She wasn't like them; she wasn't pretty like they were. She frowned. No, she couldn't let her insecurities ruin this moment. She scrutinized Tristan's face, trying to understand him.
Did he even like her? Was he just toying with her? If it felt like this did she even care? Of course, she did, don't even think it. She wasn't that kind of girl, she reminded herself. This was a bet, a challenge. It wasn't her. No need for that usual guilt. She wouldn't move, she'd show him. Instead, her eyes roved his body. She could see his broad shoulders and slim chest, but everything beneath it was hidden by the edge of the bed. Pity, she still hadn't seen his ass and judging by those legs it would be a sight worth seeing. She could barely make out the pile of partially crushed boxes which lay over the floor between the bed and his desk like the aftermath of an avalanche, making the floor treacherous. Tristan knelt on them, uncaring, probably crushing a couple to the floor in his pursuit of her pleasure. Those lucky boxes.
"Do your worst." she challenged him.
Alice wanted to bite her tongue. Like they did so often her words had gone from heart to mouth bypassing her brain completely. Betrayed again. Her mouth was completely out of control - Tristan would love that challenge. Daring him to give her another one? Almost right after her last orgasm? She'd lose her mind! She'd only known him for a week, was this right? Her body still felt so hot. Primed. Ready. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her experiences before this had always been more vanilla. Like this she felt defenseless, by choice, and that excited her. And mystified her.
Tristan's face, she thought absently, was like a piece of modern art, in that it either held subtle depth for the viewer or nothing. It had definitely grown on her. She kept seeing new facets in him and now she couldn't stop looking. From this angle, his appearance was masculine, confident, inscrutable. From that angle he was shy, earnest, geeky. Who was the man really? Some of these, all of these, something else? Would she see all of him, could some of him be hers? That conundrum topped with a mop of unruly black hair was moving slowly closer to her pussy.
She almost lost her grip on her slick thighs as her legs tried to shut of their own accord. But after a brief struggle with herself her good side prevailed. Naughty side. Whatever.
As if to reward her dedication, Tristan gave each of her thighs a gentle little kiss where she was literally holding herself back. She resisted her impulse to close her legs, her impulse to grab him, lift him up, to impale herself upon him. It would be fucking wonderful, he'd fill her so full, she'd seen what he was working with, she knew that. She began to shift her hips before arresting the motion. Hold back. It'd be too soon. But they were going too slow. No, they were going too quickly, what would he think of her if she did that?
By now her body heat had warmed the scant materials in her outfit to the point where their scent rose into the air. The tang of the metal and earthy notes of leather mingled with the heady musk of her own sweat and... and Tristan's cum, which still covered her upper body. Fuck. Didn't she promise herself she wouldn't think about it? Now she'd admitted it existed she couldn't think of anything else. She could almost taste it. Wanted to taste it. Wanted more. She knew his smell, his voice. His... taste. She'd know his touch any second. They hadn't even had sex yet and already her feelings were stirring. She was careless, she could admit that to herself, but she had never fallen this far this fast. He made her feel admired, cheeky, free. Like she'd been caught, ravished, then released only to be caught again.
"You sound confident, Ms Naughty. As if a second ago you weren't begging me to let you touch yourself. So now it's round two. You move, you lose." he smiled, licking his lips, "Now let's see how high I can take you."
Did this mean he was into her? He'd said Stacy was in the picture so how would this work? He'd already gotten off so what could his motivation for this possibly b...
Her breath hitched as memories of the fabulous sensations flashed through her. The struggle of posing motionless while he stroked himself. Admiring. The red-hot heat when Tristan came all over her upper body, the heat from his cum becoming her heat, an inferno. The shameful, unbelievable moment when she lost control and massaged his essence into her own flesh, dirtying herself, his sperm coating her. The strain of being right on the edge of orgasm, of begging for his permission to move. Of relief, release, of a memorable explosion. One which was still echoing inside her.
"Hmmh" she moaned wordlessly, unable to stop it escaping her as she relived that moment.
Her cream leaked from her as he watched, a handful of inches away at most. Her thighs shook, her fingers digging into her own flesh painfully as she tried to close her legs again. They clearly had their own agenda. Could Tristan tell what she was thinking? She hoped not, she'd never live it down. She'd loved it. She wanted to go do it again, right now if possible. Her body was heated, her mind anticipating his caresses, another wonderful orgasm. No, Alice. He'd think she was some sort of addict. She'd already cum after the... modelling she'd done for him. She was still wearing that ridiculously sexy - sorry, sleazy - getup.
Surely she was icky down there now. Surely he didn't want to. Did she want him to? Why was she doing this again? Getting involved with a guy who already had a...
Although she'd been expecting it, she stiffened in shock as she felt the hot wetness of his tongue lick slowly up the inside of her thigh. Her eyes shot to his, and Tristan looked at her intensely. She felt he was examining her, checking her reactions. Trying to find out what she liked best. His tongue gave her a long, lingering caress, warm then cool as convection stole heat from the moisture.
He sampled her nectar. Oh fuck - what if he didn't like the taste? How could she get him to go down on her again? She should have insisted on getting a shower or something first! Uncomfortable, she released one of her legs to put one hand in front of his face.
"Trist..." she started, then stopped.
Fuck! She felt a jolt of horror which cut through her arousal and anxiety. She'd moved, did that mean she'd lost?
"Yes?" he stopped, concerned.
"S... sorry." she said. "I don't... I'm not clean..."
"Okay. Let's stop." he sighed, moving back slightly.
No! She screamed internally. Her hand was suddenly gripping his hair, pulling it toward her, keeping it in place. No, no, no! She didn't want him to stop, ever. She'd surprised herself; she was really getting into all this restriction stuff too. She didn't feel clean. Could he just maybe... lick her without tasting it? Oh, unless he liked her flavor, of course - then he could feel free to taste it. That would be the best, especially if he preferred hers to Stacy's, that gorgeous bitch. What did Stacy taste like? Maybe it would be mango, like her lips. Whatever, just get back to the licking part again...
Wait - he was smiling. - had she said that out loud?
"You're delicious, Ms Naughty." Tristan said, his hand on her wrist.
She was mortified, her face burned. Why did this keep happening with Tristan? This was the single most embarrassing moment of her life. This was even more embarrassing than the moment when he'd caught her wearing lingerie while peeping on him. Which had been less than an hour ago. She hadn't meant to say... He couldn't know how she... Nope, just nope. A girl had to keep some mystery.
Startled, Alice realized she still had a deathgrip on his hair and set him loose. He barely even moved. He spoke, his breath tickling the sensitive skin between her legs and rustling her neat row of trimmed pubic hair.
"Don't interrupt my meal unless you want us to stop. This is your only warning." he said firmly.
With that, he put one hand on her wrist and pushed it back underneath her thigh. She wrapped her hand around herself, still overcome. Did this mean the bet was still on? Did she have another chance? Why wasn't he saying...
'SMACK!'
Burning heat ricocheted through her as he lightly smacked her pussy with his fingertips. Carelessly his hand had hit her outer lips, her thigh, her clitoris. The slight pain morphed to something else, spoke to some primal part of her, pouring gasoline on the embers inside. An explosion of white-hot lust threatened to consume her. Her eyes rolled. Her hips thrust, lifting off the bed. She lost all grip on herself, arching like an unstrung bow before falling back painfully onto her hands and legs underneath. The pain and submission sent a second, smaller wave of sparks though her.
Her emotions were slow to catch up, and as a result the indignation which tried to rise was burned in a firestorm of crimson. No-one had ever done that before. The sensation became fuel, opening up a mental landscape of roaring, hungry flame all the way to the horizon. Seeing the sheer breadth of what was coming Alice felt both terrified and eager to see what happened next. This thing - it would consume her. She was frightened. She couldn't wait.
She needed his tongue on her, in her, all over her, right now. It was the only thing which could quench this fire inside.
By the time she was able to look at him again she could only see the top of his head as it moved slightly whilst his tongue lapped her center. Still very pleasant, but well south of where she wanted it to be at this point.
"Don't tease me Tristan!" Alice gasped. "Go higher!"
To her dismay he didn't move, he actually stopped his ministrations altogether. She gripped his head with her hands, trying to drag him back into place. He didn't budge. It was like he was carved out of rock. The firestorm of pleasure that had been building in her started to subside. No! Why had he stopped? How could she make him continue?
Her desperation helped her remember something earlier in the day. Back when Stacy had dropped all pretense and begged him, right in front of her. Before Stacy had kissed her. She realized she knew what Tristan wanted.
Rejecting her body's insistence she take matters into her own hands, Alice put her hands back underneath herself. Gripped her burning flesh.
"Please!" she begged urgently, "Please, boss!"
She saw him grin before she felt the hot texture of his tongue run along her inner lips. Along the top of her opening, then a little higher, so close. He teased her lips, just finger's width short of her needy clitoris. It throbbed, demanding attention. She moaned, part sensation, part frustration.
"Higher - please, boss, lick it, lick my clit, I'm ready. I'm sooo ready. Please please please!"
He did, and it was like a thousand little mooring lines snapped, leaving her adrift on an ocean of fiery passion. His tongue plundered her irresistibly, waves of pleasure buffeting her to and fro.
"Yes!" she squealed, her voice increasing in pitch. "Oh, yes!"
Their breaths came in heated gasps, exertion and pleasure entwined. Her honey dripped from her and he drank it eagerly.
"Don't stop!" she squeaked in a voice only dogs and Tristan could hear. "Don't fucking..."
His unrelenting tempo pushed her higher and higher. She prayed to any deity that would listen that he wouldn't stop, wouldn't change a thing.
"Oh yeahhh" she groaned, her bass notes a monster trying to burst out of her.
She felt the cliff approach, endlessly stretching out on either side of her. The drop was precipitous. What awaited her below was only an endless heat that would melt her into putty. The side-to-side movement of his tongue drove any semblance of sense from her mind. Yes - that was the fucking spot!
The air vanished from her lungs. She couldn't breathe. She'd forgotten how.
She could only stare at him with wide, shocked eyes.
Her eyes rolled back into her head.
"Fuck meeeeeeee!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.
She felt herself float off the edge of the world and plunge into the depths. She felt herself melt and be reforged, as the tides washed over her. It lasted a lifetime. The fires calmed, were consumed, dying to embers over eons. When it was finally over, the world felt different. Calmer. Safer.
Alice recovered slowly, completely enervated. Languidly, she tried to move, but her body felt like it weighed a ton. The first thing she felt was Tristan's hands pushing at her knees. Her legs had snapped shut, trapping his head against her.
She released him, and he gasped for air. Her ears hurt. Had she really screamed that loud? She tried to blush but couldn't muster the energy.
Then she heard the whoops and applause coming from outside the room, and this time she really did blush.
"I'm next after that bitch!" a female squeaked.
Tough, he's taken. As if Alice would let him go after this, even if just to keep him around for sex. Which they still hadn't done. She remembered Stacy and felt her joyful mood sour a little.
"Teach me Hank!" a man cheered.
Tristan, it was Tristan, Alice wanted to shout. But that would mean more whores to compete with, so she stayed silent.
She looked at Tristan to see how he was taking this. She took in his face, shiny with her cum. She observed the sheets beneath her, completely saturated, now closer to black than grey. Even the scent in the air had changed. Had she... did she squirt? How had she forgotten to mention that to him? Well, it didn't happen often so she wasn't expecting it, but... And some guys didn't care, but... what if he thought she'd peed herself?
She gave a little gasp of horror, and rapidly dressed, neglecting to remove the cosplay outfit she wore. Alice simply slipped her blouse and skirt on over it, and ran to the door. She tugged the makeshift barricade she'd made to one side, and unlocked the door.
"Say hi to Stacy for me." she said, and fled, like a thief into the night.
How did this happen? She thought as she fled down out of his dorm, her face dark with embarrassment. This wasn't the first time she'd ended up in a situation and wondered how she'd gotten there. It was the first time sexually, sure, but ignoring that little fact, this wasn't even the first weird scene this week. Why did she keep ending up in unbelievable circumstances? She tried to think back. She remembered when she'd joyfully approached him, a few hours ago.
~~~~
A few hours before these events, Tristan had been waiting in the hall of the Flint building. The place was deserted. He was early for his next lecture - literature or some mandatory nonsense. It wasn't related to his major so he'd switched off already. He was engrossed in his phone, barely paying attention to his surroundings. He idly scrolled through clickbait, just wasting time. The Flint building was colloquially called 'the cave' by the student body for its lack of ambiance. A brutalist monolith, the grey unforgiving concrete walls felt like the bars of a prison. Alone in a dungeon. Tristan couldn't wait to escape.
"She's got nice tits." a soft voice whispered in his ear.
He leapt almost a foot in the air.r"
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