Crutch: Chapter 4

I came back, bearing a large 4 cheese and sausage pizza and a six pack of off-brand cola. Most of my social circle was down in the lobby/lounge. Mario characters were go-karting on the big TV. Aside from the four players, maybe a half dozen people were loitering around, heckling, cheering, or just hanging out. Steff was perched on the arm of a sofa, laughing as Chuck got blue shelled. She spotted me come in and her face lit up. I like to think it wasn't just about the pizza.

“Oh thank God! Bring that beautiful thing over here.” She said, wobbling over to to one of the little tables.

“Hey can I have a slice?” Real Film Dan asked.

“I can't afford to feed you!” Steff snapped. I winced inwardly. Dan was fat, even by RBIT standards. This was precisely the sort of thing that got Steff her reputation as the uber-bitch. There was a painful beat before she added, more calmly, “Buy your own pizza. If I start giving it away there'll be nothing left for me and Tom.” A few heads turned to shoot her dirty looks

Real Film Dan was the president of the Film Society (his nickname came from his enthusiasm for film and contempt for digital projectors). He was an easy guy to like, an affable, likable loser, the sort of perpetual student who never quite graduates and still hangs out with the freshmen. But he and Steff had rubbed each other the wrong way since day one. So he was also Grandmaster of the Fraternal Order of Steff is a Bitch.

“Oh!” Claire exclaimed before anyone could escalate things. “Maybe there's some money left in the entertainment budget for the quarter. We could use it to get some pizzas and call it a party! I'll check with Vance.” Claire was a sweet, willowy girl who gave most people the impression that she was a ditz. In fact she was rather smart, except for her absolute certainty that she had fooled us all and nobody knew about her “forbidden affair” with our Resident Director. She breezed out towards his room, no doubt to return in 45 minutes to an hour with disheveled hair, having forgotten what she was supposed to be asking him about. Steff shook her head a little in mild disapproval, then turned her attention to the pizza.

We stayed down there for most of the afternoon. The rule was 'losers out' on Mario Kart, so there was a steady turnover of people moving to and from the couch. Steff did her best to follow orders and act like we were still just friends. She made jokes at my expense, and she didn't hesitate to rub my face in it when she won. She also kept making her way to my side through all the coming and going, showing a distinct preference for sitting by me, leaning into me a little. Or her hand would suddenly be on my leg. She had trouble keeping her eyes off me, or carrying on a conversation with our other friends. The slightest hint of approval, a mere “good game,” made her beam. “Your touch brings me pleasure” and “Your praise brings me joy.” Those were laws of physics as far as Steff's brain was concerned. We were probably more obvious than Claire. Neither of us cared.

It's a heady feeling, being the center of a beautiful girl's universe. I highly recommend it.

A loud buzzing from Steff's pants interrupted us. Steff pulled out her phone, glanced at the number, and rolled her eyes while she flipped it open.

“Hi Mom. I'm just hanging out with some people. [i]Yes[/i], there are boys here.” That part she practically growled out. “Because they're everywhere! There's billions of them!” She got to her feet, probably meaning to go somewhere more private. But her annoyance made her momentarily forget her bad leg. She fell hard. At least three people snickered. I was the only one to help her up.

“I'm fine, I'm fine. I just fell.” she reassured the phone. “Thank you,” she told me as I steadied her. She rolled her eyes again at what she heard, and shouted back, “For passing me the CRACK PIPE, Mom, God! Tom just helped me up. Well don't talk to me like that either! What did I ever do to deserve that?” She put her arm around my shoulder and leaned on me, even though she was holding her cane in her other hand. She shot me a pleading look. I nodded and we hobbled toward the elevator.

“I AM!” She shouted. “Mom, I do. I am. Really.” From her tired, irritated tone I guessed this was another installment in an ongoing argument. “Mom, I'm getting on an elevator, I'll call you later, ok? Fine, just give me 15 minutes, ok? Love you too.” She snapped the phone closed and sighed.

“That sounded fun.” I teased.

Steff smiled at me. The elevator dinged and opened, so we walked in. “It's just the usual stuff. It's like she's convinced if I'm not studying, it means I'm out partying and generally being an irresponsible slut. And she thinks there are predators everywhere just waiting to have their way with me.” She chuckled at that and gave me a mischievous smile. “If she only knew, right?” She leaned in for a kiss.

The ding! of the elevator startled both of us. For the first time ever it had done its job quickly, just to ruin a moment. Steff chuckled and put a pained expression on her face while I helped her to her room again. Once inside she plopped onto her little couch, and reached for her minifridge.

“So does your leg even hurt? Or were you faking for Master's attention?” I tried to joke about it, but I was actually concerned.

“A little from column A and a little from column B.” She fished out a sport drink with one hand and reached for a prescription bottle with the other. I sat down next to her. “I could have made it up here fine with the cane. Having you to lean on feels so much better, and I think I'm always going to want your attention. That fall did hurt like hell though, and my knee was already sore. I guess I did something to it earlier. Probably when I was coming? That parts kind of a blur.” She swallowed her pill and blushed. “Did you want one? A drink, I mean. Or the pills, I guess, if you want. Anything you want.” She snuggled up closer and whispered in my ear. “Every single thing in here is yours.” She nipped my earlobe playfully.

“Oh, I know.” I whispered back. “This was all a long con to steal a big pile of dirty laundry and a mini fridge.” We kissed. It was a languid, comfortable, affectionate kiss rather than a charged, urgent, amorous kiss. Steff's contented sigh afterward was one of the most beautiful things I had ever heard. She put her head on my shoulder and rested a while.

Her cell phone chirped insistently. Steff groaned and flipped her phone open.

“Hi Mom. No, it wasn't. Because I've barely had time to get to my room and take a pill. I know, that's why I usually don't take them. It's only the second one I've taken all week. Don't worry, I don't like taking them. I never get anything done afterwards.” Instead of getting angry, Steff was getting a little dreamy. “It's fine. Tomorrow, but I'm ready for it. Cramming will just stress me out. I'm just gonna relax tonight.” She slipped her hand into mine and smiled at me.

“You know, you're always so down on me hanging out with boys. But why shouldn't I have a boyfriend? No, I'm not talking about that. No. No, I mean a real boyfriend. Ugh. We don't even have frats here! If there were frat boys at RBIT they wouldn't have keggers, they'd have, like, robot fights!” She started giggling. “Ok, I would actually go to every frat robot fight. I'd make my own robot, and beat up all the frat boys' robots. And they'd all say 'Oooh, Steff is so cool. I wish I were her boyfriend'. Then I'd pick the best one, who's sweet and smart and treats me nice, and make him my boyfriend, because why shouldn't I have a boyfriend? Hmmm? No, I promise. Really? Ok, I promise not to take any more pills tonight. I'll stay in and lock the door, ok? Nobody's going to take advantage of me.” She gave me a devious grin and moved her hand to my crotch. Ever so lightly she stroked the bulge she found there. “Tell Dad and the boys I love them, ok? See you all soon. Love you too. Bye.”

She tossed her phone away, then scooted sideways into my lap. She looked over her shoulder and pulled me in for one of those charged, urgent, amorous kisses. It left us both breathless for a second. We just stared into each others eyes. Hers were like emeralds, except emeralds are cold and hard. Steff's eyes were warm and soft.

“Take advantage of me, please?” she asked with a smile.

“Still Water” I whispered back.

Steff shivered delightfully in my lap. “Master!” she said brightly, “How can your slave please you?” She didn't wait for me to answer before pulling her hoodie and the t-shirt under it off in one graceful movement while grinding her ass into my lap. It inspired me. I groaned appreciatively. One of my hands was on her firm, pale midriff. The other groped her beautiful breasts, still trapped in her bra.

“Keep going,” I growled. “Give me a lap dance. Be my own personal stripper-slave.”

“Yes Master” she purred.

Immediately the motion of her taut ass changed from aimless wiggling to a decidedly rhythmic sway of the hips. She really was dancing to music only she could hear, which I realized later when I was capable of complex thought.

For the record it was “No Scrubs,” followed by “Say My Name.” I asked her later.

She reached behind her and quickly unlatched her bra. She arched her back and shimmied her shoulders to work the straps down her arms. She moved her hands over mine.

“Your slave's heard that in real clubs, they usually have rules against touching the dancers.” She started trying to guide my hand away from her breast.

She tossed her hair to one side, and looked over her shoulder at me. “Your slave would be a [i]terrible[/i] stripper.” Another hard kiss, and she guided my hands under the cups of her bra as she shrugged it off. I squeezed hard. [i]Mine![/i] a primitive part of me rejoiced. I could feel her heart pounding.

“Your slave would let you break the rules. Her body is your property. Your slave wants you to touch her everywhere. She'd never let anyone tell her that's wrong.” She was panting, and her artistic rhythm was being thrown off. My novice squeezing and kneading of her soft firmness had her moaning and shuddering. “Nobody else can touch her. They don't even get to [i]see[/i] her body. Unless Master wants to show her off. Then she'll show the whole world what a hot little slut your slave is.”

Here's something I had never thought about: strippers rarely wear lace up sneakers when they are working. Any ones that do probably wear skirts that they can slide off over them, rather than jeans. Untying shoes is something kind of hard to do to a beat, or sexily. Luckily I had my hands full of the tits I'd been secretly fantasizing about touching for months. So I didn't mind the brief disruption in her performance, especially as she kept shifting her ass in my lap. Soon she was straightening out her legs and wiggling her bare toes to her mental beat.

I think I mentioned earlier I'm not really a feet guy. But at that point every single thing about Steff was a massive turn on. Not just the feel of her breasts and the motion of her hips. The faint lavender scent of her hair as she tossed it back and forth. The salty taste of her sweat when I would kiss her neck. The way her every breath now sounded like a moan. So the happy little wiggle of her toes delighted me.

If there had been real music playing, I would have missed the faint pop of her unbuttoning her jeans and the slow descent of her zipper. That would have been a terrible shame.

She threw her head back with a moan. Her hand guided mine to her crotch. I restrained myself and didn't grab her hard. Instead I traced her slit lightly through her sodden panties. Her thighs squeezed together and she squealed. As enthralled and aroused as I was by her performance, it was affecting her much more. My pleasure was her pleasure; she could feel how much she was pleasing me pressed into her ass. My touch brought her pleasure; I couldn't take my hands off her and our bodies could scarcely be pcloser. She was a good slave serving her master; that was the best of all.

“M-master,” she breathed. “Would you like your slave to cum for you now?”

She wasn't even begging for herself. I felt like a sex god. Stroking her some more, I said “I'll tell you when. Keep going.”

“Y-yes Master,” her voice was unsteady, but held no trace of complaint. She started inching her jeans down while I traced the outline of her pussy through wet cotton. Hips rose and denim moved inch by inch. More pink, sweaty skin appeared. Down, down, down. I'm not sure if she was going at a glacial pace, or if that was my mind stretching out the moment. More and more toned thigh came into view. Down, down, down. Over the knees, the bandage standing out on the left one. That lucky injury made all this possible. Down, Down, Down. The elegant curves of strong calves came into view. She was the best rebounder on a team that made state. Such a strong girl. I circled her clit through her panties while I rolled a nipple. So weak under my hands. She kicked the bunched up denim off her ankles.

I expected a repeat with her plain black panties. But my eager slave surprised me. She rose lightly to her feet. Or rather foot, as she had all her weight on her good right leg, with her hip cocked. Her eyes were locked on her master's. Mine. I started slipping my own pants off. Steff bent forward from the waist, bringing her face very close to mine. She licked her lips as I slipped my underwear off. I could tell she wanted to, but Steff didn't even glance down at my cock. Those beautiful breasts were shaking back and forth to a song only she heard. Then without straightening, she suddenly turned 180 degrees on the ball of her right foot.

I knew Steff had a great ass. She didn't flaunt it, but it was hard not to notice. But until this point I'd only seen her naked when she was on her back. I'd yet to get a real good close look at it. She was fixing that.

Volleyball had been very good to her. High, firm, perfectly round cheeks swayed before me. She leaned down even more, stretching her arms in front of her to reach her desk on the far wall. The rooms really were small. Her silky black hair stuck to her sweaty back, providing a great contrast to her pale cheeks.

“God, Steff. Slave. You are so beautiful.” I was awestruck. The artistic, aesthetic beauty of her momentarily overwhelmed even my lust.

“Oh, thank you Master!” she moaned. It put lust back in the lead. She straightened up. “Steff left something for you. She's always thinking ahead.” She reached back without looking, holding a handful of condoms. I laughed a little. I had completely forgotten.

“She is. She's very smart. But she needs to relax right now, doesn't she?” My friend, girlfriend, slave eased her panties off.

“Yes Master.” They hit the floor and she turned to face me. She raised her left leg, bending it so her foot rested on the inside of her right knee. It displayed her glistening pussy perfectly. Her body in motion was a miracle.

“So it's Slave who's going to get fucked.” She drew a finger slowly up her pussy, then licked it clean. It made her tremble and she almost lost her balance. I rolled a condom on.

“Oh yes please Master, thank you Master!” There were tears of joy and need in her eyes.

“Get back over here.” My slave all but leapt into my lap. She wanted to slip her pussy onto my cock, but I held her just off it. I had one arm wrapped around her, hand back on her breast. The other slid slowly down to just above her clit. I let her ease her way onto me. I kissed her ear, then whispered.

“It would please me if you came right now.”

“OH GOD THANK YOU MASTER!” my slave erupted. The crushing pressure and moist heat were incredible. Somehow I didn't go off myself. I started rolling her clit and kept whispering.

“You're such a good slave.” She deserved a treat.

“MASTER! MASTER!” Incredible as it felt for me, I was caught up in the spectacle of her orgasm. I wondered how long I could keep her this way.

“I want you to keep cumming.” Would that be enough? Did her obedience really go so deep? Her tight cunt was milking me even more intensely.

“YES MASTER! THANK YOU MASTER!

“You are so beautiful.” My praise gives her joy. Would that translate into pleasure? Plus it was true. It was the most true thing I ever said. I shifted my hands, grabbing her under her hips. She trembled and shivered. I ground my teeth, trying to last a little bit longer.

“M-MAS-uh uh!” She couldn't finish the word, she was breathing too fast. I started fucking her, lifting her twitching hips. It was heaven.

“Hold on to this feeling as long as you can.” My thighs were soaked. Now that she didn't have the breath to scream I could hear the wet smack of our flesh together. Thwap, thwap, thawp, no choir of angels could compete.

“Yismazzer” she slurred. She must have been tiring, the pressure inside her was lessening. That just meant I could fuck her harder. Her head was lolling side to side, her beautiful eyes were closed.

“Your body is amazing.” Such a massive understatement. Thwap! The way she had moved. Thwap! The sight and feel of it. Thwap! [i]Mine![/i] I thought.

“Savor this.” Thwap! “You deserve it.” Thwap! She whimpered. Thwap, thwap, thwap! My vision narrowed.

“I love you so much!” One last hard thwap! I ground into her as I unloaded into her. Lights flashed. I forgot how to breathe.

“Luffewtoomazzer.” She gasped. Her flushed sweaty exhausted gorgeous face broke into a blissful smile. We both slumped sideways. There wasn't room for two people to slump sideways on her couch. We were too tired for laws of physics, so we occupied the same place at the same time. Over time our breathing fell into sync.

“Master. Want. Wake. Steff?” More than one word a second was beyond her. I understood her.

“No.” It took me probably five seconds to get that word out. She nodded and closed her eyes, a beatific smile on her face. There were probably a few artists who could have captured it, but in all of human history there couldn't have been more than five.

“Let Steff rest.” I eventually whispered to her. “Slave can too.”

“Yes Master.” She mumbled. I'm not sure which of us dozed off first.