The Two Bills

Back in college, two friends named Bill got into my girlfriend. And they led the way for others to play with her, too.

Starts out true, then slides into fiction of wishful thinking. Many of the incidents are true, with a sprinkling of extra spice just for flavor.

Names changed, of course, except for the Bills. There really were two of them, two Bills, friends and fellow partiers.

All this happened before the days of common STDs and deadly AIDS. All the people were well over 18.

Senior year of college, my girlfriend, Mikki (Michelle), was hot stuff. She was medium height, not a model type but attractive. Slinky, medium boobs, more than handful and firm. And she was fond of moderate miniskirts. When she wanted to, especially when dancing, she just oozed sex. We were both just 21.

The dorm was a little unusual, all single rooms downstairs, with a small but serviceable party suite on the top floor. The party room was really just the small living room with four single bedrooms attached to it. But it had a bar (that might have been added by some previous residents), a carpeted area, and some benches around two sides.

I lived on the first floor. A good friend, Bill, known here as Bill2, was across the hall, and a casual friend, also Bill, that we’ll call Bill1, down the hall a few doors.

Mikki and I spent many weekends in bed, horny kids that we were, emerging only for meals. She basically lived there with me on weekends, with her parents during the week. Incredibly, they didn’t mind.

This was a party-hearty group. There were parties most weekends, well maybe ten out of twelve, either Friday or Saturday, up in the party suite. It was always crowded, dark, noisy, couples dancing and in the nooks and crannies. Loud music for dancing, fast and slow. Most of us were slightly lubricated with alcohol, which was typically a deadly punch or retail wine coolers.

His version:

One night we had a fight, over something I can’t remember. We left the party early. She was really pissed. When we got back to my room, she picked up her bag and left in a huff. Later I found out that she went just a few feet down the hall, knocked on the door of Bill1’s room.

She asked him, Do you want to know why Danny keeps me around? What we do all weekend?

Yes, he did. He welcomed her in.

She didn’t tell me about it until years later

Her version:

Bill invited me in like a gentleman. He gave me a drink; there was beer in the fridge. We sat on the bed. After some conversation where I vented about what a turkey you (Danny) are, he kissed me. It was nice. I kissed him back. We made out. He was not very aggressive, but he felt me up, took off my blouse. He really liked my boobs. Eventually he got brave enough to feel my legs. What do guys do with legs? They want to get between them. So of course he reached under my skirt. He felt up to my crotch. I spread my legs for him, I wanted to feel him touching me.

I let him undress me, down to my underwear, and we lay down on the bed. Then he took off my bra and kissed my breasts. He really, really liked my boobs. He kissed all the way down my belly where it tickles. Then he reached inside my panties, put his fingers into me. I was wet, soaked, hot.

I undressed him and lay back. I pulled him up between my legs, took hold of his cock and took him into me. He fucked me, gently at first then harder, and he came in me. I was on the pill then – everyone was on the pill then – so no worries. I made a wet spot on his bed, that narrow, college bed. We slept, I stayed there all night. Good thing I didn’t run into you in the morning.

For revenge fucking it was pretty good. He was really nice.

Back to his story

Eventually I found out about her little affair. I wasn’t jealous, after all we were only dating, not serious then. And she did have an occasional fling that I knew about. More about one of those in another chapter.

In the party suite one night, the room was packed, Solid dancers in the middle of the room. The music was mostly rock and slow dances. The bar was on one side, drinkers, couples, and stags around the edges.

Her dress code for parties was always a skirt, not slacks, and a top that showed off her boobs. She wasn’t very girly-girl in most ways, but short skirts were part of her religion. I loved her skirts because of the easy access they permitted to her fun bits. Yes, I was a card-carrying Dirty Young Man. I think all the guys loved them because she showed a lot of leg when she sat or danced. And they hoped they could get under them.

She was dancing with Bill1, close. Both her arms around his neck, his hands on her hip and ass. That was maybe a little familiar, but not at all uncommon. I saw his hands moving as he kneaded her butt and raised the skirt a few inches. Not a big deal. If she didn’t mind, I didn’t mind.

A few minutes later, I saw them not-dancing, They were off in a corner, kissing. Again her arms were still around his neck, his hands on her hips and ass. This seemed to be more interesting so I watched. Their kissing was passionate, not just friendly. His hand moved up to her breast. She didn’t move it away. Instead she pulled his face to hers even closer. Now that was serious intimacy. He cupped her breast, kneaded it. I could see that he squeezed it and she appeared to love it.

I looked around to see if anyone else was catching this exhibition. Oh, Jesus, there were half a dozen guys, friends of mine, watching my girlfriend being pawed openly.

I wasn’t angry, I wasn’t even jealous. Well, not much. I was embarrassed that guys saw her make out with this other man – and saw me watching it and not doing anything about it. In fact, it excited me to see her being felt up like that. She really was sex on wheels sometimes when our relationship was new, and this is one of those times. I loved to watch her turning on, even if it wasn’t with me.

Then it got worse. Or better, depending. His other hand came around from her ass to her hip, down her leg, then up her thigh under her skirt, all in a minute. Holy crap, this was getting more serious. I didn’t know then that he had already been between her legs with his hands and his dick.

And he didn’t stop there. He reached up her thigh, between her legs. I could tell when he touched her sensitive spots. She went up on tiptoes, still locked in their kiss. Her feet moved apart, I think to let him feel her panties, get his fingers onto the gusset over her sex lips. His arm moved up again, pushing on her. She opened her legs another foot. She pushed her hips toward him, once, twice, again. Oh, god, he has his fingers in her and she really wants it! Anyone could see this clearly. Her legs wide open and his hand in her crotch! His arm moved, her hips moved to meet him. Yes, definitely finger fucking.

Feeling her insides with my fingers, the warmth and wetness of her sex tube, its contractions with her excitement – that was almost the most intimate thing one could do, I felt. Only a couple acts could be more intimate: eating her delicious pussy, licking her labia, sucking on her little clit with my fingers roaming inside her; and slow fucking, savoring the wonderful feeling of my body inside her body, sliding slowly in and out. I remembered how it felt stroking and licking and penetrating her body, and I got rock hard.

Then I woke from my brief reverie to see her avidly taking Bill’s hand into her secret cavern. His arm pumped up and down, no doubt in and out of her slick vagina. Holy crap again, now who’s watching this? Christ! Even more, now half the room is watching Bill finger fuck my girlfriend. Drilling her hard. *My* girlfriend! In the open, in public. She kissed him, she let him feel her, she spread her legs when he reached for her sex. She was participating eagerly in having her hot cunt drilled and she didn’t care who saw her do it.

A minute later I looked back and they were gone. Not kissing, not dancing, not at the bar. Well, maybe that’s better, at least she’s not making a spectacle out of having public sex at the party, only slightly hidden. I mean, no one could actually see his hand or her sex because there were clothes in the way, but it was clear what was going on.

I went back to drinking. Made small talk with guys. Tried to avoid the obvious topic of what my supposed girlfriend was doing with some other man in front of the whole crowd.

Twenty, maybe thirty minutes later she came back in. Went to the bar to get a fresh drink, then came to talk to me.

“Hi, where’ve you been?”

“Downstairs. In Bill’s room.”

“Oh. I see.”

“What you’re thinking – yes, we did. I’m sorry, I just got carried away in the moment.”

“Yeah, right. And you showed everyone else, too.”

She took my hand and put something soft into it. Ohmigod, panties. Wet panties. She just handed me the flimsy covering that ought to be protecting her sex from marauders like me. And Bill.

“He’s running down my leg. Juicy. Hot. I thought that would turn you on. You like it when guy stuff comes out of me. It’s sure turning me on. Tickling my thigh. Maybe in a while it will be visible down at my knees.”

Gulp. Well, at least she still had her bra on.

I didn’t accept her apology. I didn’t hear any sort of apology in what she said.

“You do whatever you want.” I turned around to get another drink, maybe twenty seconds, and she was gone again.

It would be fun to see his cum on her legs, I thought. Then everyone would know how faithless she had been. Visual proof, not just suspicion. I don’t think I had ever seen any other girl be that bold, that openly sexual.

She was out on the dance floor again, but this time with Bill2. This was the guy directly across the hall from me. I was much closer to Bill2 than to Bill1. He was really a good friend, a talented guy, a fellow technical major, none of this liberal arts stuff for us, no sir.

I leaned back against the bar and watched them. What now? It was a lot like a replay of her dancing with Bill1. Her arms around his neck, hip to hip, his hands on her hips then down onto her ass. When the song ended, they kissed. Started out as a peck on the lips, then more pecks, then their mouths opened and their tongues started playing. Oh, wow, she’s making out with Bill2, too, now. How far is this going to go?

Others noticed them, too. Here’s Danny’s girl making out with yet another guy right in front of him, in front of everybody. They moved over to the dim corner where couples go. She was up against the wall, he was leaning into her. They kissed, a lot, talked, kissed more, he nuzzled her neck. Her blouse was not entirely buttoned anymore so it was easy for him to kiss her neck and shoulders.

His hand moved up from her waist to cup her breast. From my angle, I could see his arm moving up and flexing as he massaged her firm flesh. Again, she did nothing to remove his hand because it wasn’t an unwelcome intrusion. She didn’t mind. I’m sure she was enjoying it. She always did like having her breasts felt, kneaded, pinched.

That went on for a couple minutes, with me and the rest of the audience paying attention to their embraces. Not everyone looked, not everyone cared. After all, it wasn’t that rare an event that a couple got carried away at these parties, with all the booze and music and crowding. But this couple were unusual – in that they were not thought to be a traditional couple – in that she was the almost live-in hot girlfriend of the guy standing at the bar – in that the guy kissing her and feeling her up was a good friend of the boyfriend at the bar – in that he wasn’t even the first man tonight to partake of her charms, to make out with her intensely, sexually.

Then, inevitably, he went for third base. With one hand on her breast, his other hand went down from her hip, down her leg, then back up it but under her skirt this time. And, OMG, now I know that there’s nothing under there to stop him from getting into her pussy. I have her panties in my pocket!

Again, she spread her legs a little to give him better access to her, to her intimate areas, to what he will find out is a very hot and very juicy pussy filled with another man’s cum. Oh, crap, he does keep moving up. She jumps and squeals a little, her reaction is obvious, when he has got higher. When he feels her slimy hot thigh. When his cold hand has found her hot sex. When he has slid a finger into her honey pot.

Here we go again. I down my drink and get another. When I turn back, they are walking out the door hand in hand. Now I am mortified and turned on in equal parts. Had some other babe come up to me and touched me then, I would have come in my pants immediately. Is she going to fuck another one of my roommates, right here, right now? Is she going to come back and pick another stud? Should all the hard cocks in the room line up and take numbers? Where do I buy a ticket for this train?

But, no, they come back in a couple minutes, not enough time to do the deed. She told me later that she did come from his digital ministrations, but she didn’t want to fuck him. Then. She came over, took me by the arm, and led me back downstairs to my room. We tore our clothes off and screwed like mad, rutting beasts, once, twice, slept for a while, then a third time, then slept until morning. I came, she came, we all had a great time not talking about what had happened earlier in the night.

In the morning, we did talk about it. she said she got a little carried away, had a little too much to drink. Not much of an excuse. And I had not made love to her before we went to the party so she was horny as hell. My fault? She told me what the guys did to her, with her. She showed me. She had me play their parts in feeling her and penetrating her. And coming in her as Bill1 had done. By the time we were done, that was my fourth time in the last twelve hours, and my dick was red and tired. We gave up, showered, dressed, and went out for, well by that time, a late lunch.

Did I forgive her? Sure I did. I loved her even then. It was not a casual fling. So she fucked a couple guys, so what. So she played provocateur pussy in front of my friends, so what. So she fucked one of my friends, twice now, and got finger fucked by another, a close friend, and came for him on his fingers, so what. I didn’t own her. Her body was hers to do with as she liked. Whatever pleasure she got out of sex, I thought that was wonderful. I loved to see her turn on, get hot and wet, then release when waves of sexual thrill rolled over her, and over and over. It was one of the greatest gifts of my life that she enjoyed – pursued! – sex so much.

If they were my hands and my lips and my dick that brought her pleasure, so much the better. That she liked to jump my bones and be jumped in return, that she liked to sleep cuddled up with me every night – for those gifts I considered myself very lucky. I was thankful to have such a fine babe. Not *all* to myself, perhaps, but mainly. And for the long term. (We did get married a few years later, and still are thirty years after that.)

Back to the story.

Parties in the suite continued, of course, almost every weekend for the rest of the year. She became a very popular dancing partner for the guys. They all thought that maybe they would get a little of that fine pussy. And, well, many of them did. A lot of guys got to kiss her when the dance ended. A lot got to walk her over to a darkish corner and really kiss her. And feel her breasts. And some of them, the lucky ones, would get under her skirt, feel the heat of her crotch, the shape of her mound. Feel the slickness and warmth of her insides, her wonderful tight vagina. Maybe have her hands stroke their cocks through their pants.

I don’t mean to give the impression that she became the group slut, the town pump, or anything like that. She was a hot chick party girl that sometimes would let you kiss her, first base. Let you feel her up, second base. And, if you were really lucky, let you probe her intimate insides, third base. But she was just looking for a little fun. It was clear to all that she was my girl. Not my exclusive territory, but welded at the hips.

A lot of the guys had casual dates who left in a huff over the openly sexual goings-on. A few of the other guys had serious girlfriends, though, and they mostly stayed to watch. Maybe they were picking up pointers about how to be a dynamite sexpot. Maybe they and their boyfriends were just getting turned on so they could enjoy each other better later. This was live porn way before internet porn. Not soft core, but not hard core, either. Exciting as hell.

Mostly these were one-on-one affairs. But there were two times – that I saw; could have been more when I was distracted – where she dirty-danced with two guys at once. One would be behind her, kissing her neck and shoulders, pulling her ass into his hard crotch, and holding her, cupping both her breasts. The other in front of her, feeling her hips, moving his hands up and down her thighs. First over her skirt. Then lifting the hem, up and under it. And eventually, if she opened her legs for him, up to her goodies, still covered by the skirt, but clearly playing with her pussy under there, feeling the shape of her lips through the panties, inside the panties splitting her labia to get to her clit, and then into her love tunnel. She closed her eyes, her head back and mouth open in ecstasy. I don’t think she had major orgasms in these performances, but she sure appeared to enjoy their lips and hands.

Sometimes I didn’t know if she wore panties to the parties. I would find out myself by fondling her ass. If I could feel the waistband of her bikini panties, then she had them on. If I could not feel her panties, then apparently she was really interested in being hot stuff that night. And the guys who got to play with her those nights had an easier time “getting into her pants’ because she wasn’t wearing any.

It never went further than that, not that I saw, two guys feeling and fingering. Well, and her leaving for a short screw with Bill1. No gang bangs for this girl. No really public real sex. Just a lot of enthusiastic playing.

At the time, I probably had run across the term “cuckold” only in Chaucer or Shakespeare. I knew what it meant, but didn’t consider myself to be in that category. We weren’t married, we weren’t even in a committed relationship at that point. She was free to play, as was I, though I did so less frequently and less publicly than she did.

She did play openly with Bill2 more than a few times at the parties, and she did get around to fucking him. Twice that I know of. She showed up early one Friday and I was out doing something but Bill2 was there. They went into his room, had a drink or two, and ended up in bed. He was a very close friend to me, and to her, too. I think he always lusted after her, I mean, she really was a sexy babe and dressed like it and acted like it. He leaned in to kiss her, she kissed him back. He held her, she held him back. He felt her breast, she pushed it into his hand. He felt her ass, she pushed her hips into his. He got hard, she got wet. He stripped her, she stripped him. He pushed in, she pulled him in. He came, she came. He shot seed into her, she oozed seed out of her.

I got back a little later and waited for her. She came over directly from Bill2’s room. His cum was still leaking out of her sex. She sat down, we had a couple drinks. We started to make out. I noticed how wet she was. She didn’t want to lie to me about being so turned on. She started crying and told me that it was his semen leaking out of her pussy. She had gone to his room when I wasn’t there, and things . . . well, things just progressed. He had already been in her pants at the party. He had already fucked her with his finger and made her come. He had already pushed his fingers into her and finger-fucked her in front of me and in front of a lot of other people. So it wasn’t that big a leap to fuck her for real. But she cried because she hadn’t had my implicit permission or knowledge. Upstairs, at the parties, she knew I was watching, I could have stopped it at any time if I thought she was going too far. But this time was in secret. Yes, she enjoyed it, she loved it, he was very gentle and considerate and made her come.