Frenzy

Abigail hadn’t been back to the dorms since freshman year.  God, this place was a shithole.  Yellow walls with peeling paper, faded posters of campus life.  And the floor was sticky – why was the floor always sticky?

Dylan led her down the hallway.  Underclassmen hung out in small groups, talking about whatever kids these days talked about.  Probably Yu-gi-oh.  Whenever the two of them passed one of these groups, conversation would instantly stop.  And every single person, regardless of gender, would turn to stare at Abigail.

Well.  She was rather noticeable in this environment, wasn’t she?  It was pretty obvious she was older than anyone here, and her height only served to underline that fact.  Plus there was her outfit.  Her dress probably cost more than these students spent on food in a month.

She didn’t hate it – the longing stares, the outright ogling.  She could even see a few jealous glances toward Dylan.  Just being in her presence was going to make his stock rise.  That was okay.

Dylan’s room was at the end of the hall, and it wasn’t much bigger than Mackenzie’s closet.  It was sparsely decorated, and there were piles of laundry everywhere.  At least it didn’t smell.  She was a little disappointed he didn’t have any on-the-nose movie posters.  No Attack of the Fifty Foot Woman or Sixty Foot Centerfold.  The Ansel Adams print was a nice touch.

Dylan’s roommate was playing some computer game.  The two talked in whispers for a moment.  Dylan pointed at her.  The roommate’s eyes went wide.  Money changed hands.  The roommate quickly grabbed his things, and headed for the door.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

The door slammed behind him.

In the silence that followed, Dylan looked at her.  Arms crossed over his belly.  His expression eager, and uncertain.  “So.  Um.  Do you still want to do this?”

“Yes Dylan.  I do.”

“Good.  Me too.”

They continued to stare at each other.

Abigail suddenly realized she had no idea what to do next.  This was the first time she’d ever been with someone who expected her to take initiative.  There was no way Dylan was going to do it – the poor guy was terrified.  Come to think of it, she’d never been in a position where initiating was even an option.  It was hard to start things when your partner was taller.  Marcy was the shortest person she’d ever slept with, and the girl had been five-five – fully ten inches taller than Abby’s old height.  Most everyone she’d dated had been much taller than that.

Mackenzie’s voice spoke in her mind, then.  A memory.  Something her roommate had said one evening, after her dude de jure departed.  “He was kind of shy, so I just started telling him what to do.  Shy guys love being told what to do.  And talking fills up the awkward silence, before the two of you start making the fun noises.”

Sexy talk, from the femme fatale.  Yeah.  There were scenes like that in a lot of her favorite books.  She could do that.

“Okay.  First thing.  Help me out of this dress.  You’re encouraged to touch me while you do.”  She folded her hands behind her head, marveling at how easy it was to slip into this character.  The immediate boost of confidence hit like a shot of bourbon.  “Do you understand, Dylan?”

He nodded so hard that she almost laughed.  Dylan closed the space between them in an instant, reached up, put his hands on her shoulders.  He tugged at the fabric around her neck, pulling it randomly, first one way, then the other.

“Lift here,” she said, pointing to the cuff at the back of her neck.  “Pull it over my head.  Then there’s a zipper in the back.”

He stood behind her, doing as instructed.  She was almost inclined to help – or bend over a little to make the task easier.  She decided to let him struggle.  It was part of the fun, after all.  She even went so far as to lift up on her tiptoes when he finally got the hang of it, ratcheting up the difficulty of undressing a much taller woman.

He strained, his chest pressing against her back, and managed to get the neck cuff over her head.  The strap fell away, revealing her bare collar.  She expected him to pull the zipper down at once and finish getting her naked, but to her surprise he spent a few moments massaging the back of her neck.  He lifted himself high and kissed her, just beneath her hairline.  A sigh escaped her lips, as a pleasant tingling spread through her body.

Fuck it had been a while.

He kissed his way down her spine, unzipping her dress as she went.  Abigail bit her lip to keep from moaning, and stood still, allowing him to do all the work.  Dylan slid the dress down her thighs, and she obligingly stepping out of the garment.  She wasn’t wearing underwear – borrowing them would’ve been too weird – and there wasn’t a bra in the household that would fit her.  She stood before him in all her glory, completely undressed.

From his knees, Dylan looked up at her.  His eyes shining, his jaw slack.  Like a worshiper at an altar, who had finally seen his goddess.

Oh.  So this was what it was like to feel powerful.

Abigail let him admire her for several seconds.  Drinking in his adoration.  Taking almost as much pleasure from it as she had his touch.

“Stand up,” she ordered him at last.

Dylan stood.

“Fold my dress over that chair.  Lay it flat – I don’t want any wrinkles.”

She watched him struggle to follow her orders to the letter.  Abigail’s head was swimming.   She wanted to giggle, or tackle him to the bed and stick her tongue down his throat – anything to relieve this delightful tension she’d created.  She managed to hold character, and keep the stern, attentive smirk on her lips.

“Come here.”  She pointed to a spot directly in front of her.

He did.

She reached down and took the smaller man’s hand by the wrist.  “Keep your arm limp.  And don’t flex a single muscle in your hand.  Keep looking into my eyes.  Can you do that, Dylan?”

“Yes Abigail.”

“Good boy.”

Dylan whimpered.

She moved his hand for him.  Made it stroke over her body.  Her checks, her throat.  Along the line of her collar bone.  Dylan’s eyes watered, but he didn’t look away, hardly dared to blink.  She helped him run his fingers over her breasts.  Allowing his thumb to catch on her nipple, to gently flick over it.

Half-theatrically, Abigail moaned.

In an instant, the shorter man turned his wrist.  Grasped her perfectly palm-sized breast.  Squeezed.  She grunted, almost overcome with how good it felt.  With an effort, she pulled away from him, slapping his hand.

“I didn’t tell you to do that.  Did I Dylan?”

“I-I didn’t mean to, it was instinct!  Abigail, please can I ….”

She reached out, and put her finger to his lips.  “I really should punish you.  But I’ve decided to be lenient.  I’m tired of being the only one naked around here.  Take off your clothes, Dylan.”

Abigail watched him strip, affecting a bored look.  She mentally caught her breath, using the moment without the weight of his attention upon her to recuperate.  This was amazing.  It was scary, but scary like an amusement park ride, where the fear was part of the fun.  The puppet-like control she had over the shorter man focused her attention, gave every moment of this encounter a sense of crispness and urgency.  Every one of her senses was keyed to the maximum.

With the exception of his socks, he was naked in moments.  Dylan stood, hands at his side, looking up at her pleadingly.  She drank in the sight of him.  He was skinny, enough so that she could see a few of his ribs.  He had a flat, smooth tummy, with an adorably sparse line of hair defining the happy trail down the way to his groin.  His pubic hair was long and coarse – he really could use a lesson in manscaping – but his dick was actually kind of pretty.  Not enormous by anyone’s standards, but well-formed, and bigger than her last couple boyfriends’ at least.  And he was fully hard.  His cock, reaching out to her like a lover, in hopes of a touch.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“Hmmph.”  She gave him a dark smile.  Then playfully poked him in the side, making him flinch.  “Yeah.  You’re pretty cute.”

“Abigail.  Can I touch you?  Please?”

“Soon.”

She took him by the shoulders, made him walk in front of her.  Dylan’s penis bobbed up and down with every step, a large bubble of precum forming on its tip.  She wondered idly what it tasted like.  It smelled really good.  It’d been so long since she’d had a cock in her mouth.  Definitely time to fix that.

She stopped him in front of his roommate’s computer.  The screen was black, and she could see their reflections in it.  Abigail slipped behind him, pressing her chest and groin against his back.  She rubbed herself against him, groaning from the back of her throat, savoring the feeling of his body against her bare skin.  She wanted to rest her chin on the top of his head, but she wasn’t quite tall enough yet.  Instead, she bent down, and pressed her mouth against his ear.

“Dylan,” she moaned, as she draped her arms around him.  “I’m so.  So much taller than you.”

He squeaked.  The sound made something warm pulse inside her.

“I was right.  Wasn’t I?  You like tall women.  Really.  Really tall women.”

He nodded, his eyes locked on hers in the darkened screen.

“I bet you’d like it if I was even taller.”  She squeezed him firmly with both hands, compressing him against her.  “Tell me.  Now.”

“Yes!”

“You’ve fantasized about me before.  Touched yourself, while thinking about me getting bigger.  Haven’t you.”

He groaned, eyes squeezing to slits.

“How tall, Dylan?  What’s the tallest you’ve ever imagined me?”

He swallowed.  His mouth worked, but no sound came out, other than those frightened little whimpers.

“What’s the matter, cutie?  No more words?”  She laughed, and gave his ear a lick.  “Well.  I can’t have you fantasizing about me.  And I know one way to make it stop.  At least for tonight.”

Abigail ran her palm down his taut little tummy.  Slipped between his legs.  She took his length – God it felt nice between her fingers – and gave him the most gentle little squeeze.

“I’m going to drain you of every.  Single.  Drop.  So brace yourself.  Little man.”

Every muscle in his body tightened, and Abigail had just enough time to understand what was happening.  She spun him by the shoulders, turning him away from his roommate’s expensive-looking computer, just before he came.  She stroked him, pointing him toward the tile floor as he throbbed in her grasp.  It went on a surprisingly long time.

In the aftermath, he trembled weakly in her arms.  “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she told him.

The moment was gone.  It had been a singular experience, and now that it was finished, she felt empty.  Frustrated with him.  More frustrated with herself.

“I really want to do stuff to you,” he said shyly.  “Can I have five minutes to recover?  Please?”

She glanced at his desk clock.  Shit.  She had to get to Eve’s.

“I’m out of time.”

Getting dressed was hard.  Her skin was still flushed with excitement, and putting clothes over her body felt wrong right now.  He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her.  He looked happy, and satisfied, and worried all at once.  “I really liked that.”

She made herself smile.  “Can you zip me up?”

They stood at the door.  How does one end an encounter like this, Abigail wondered.  A kiss?  A friendly hug?  A good-game pat on the butt?  The etiquette of casual sex was all new to her.

“Will I ever see you again?” he asked.

“You’ll see me in class, dummy.”

Dylan’s face fell.

She lifted his chin, helping him meet her eye.  “I liked that too.  And I’ll think about it.  Okay?”

She leaned down, and kissed him on the forehead.

Abigail looked back once, as she hurried across campus.  She was unsurprised to see him staring out his window, watching her go.