Fifth Wheel

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This has interracial aspects and one insensitive character utters a slur or two.

My second year in college was almost as big a life change for me as the first year had been. Everyone knows that going away from home and family to begin at university is a major adjustment for a young person. For the first time in your life, it’s almost like your parents don’t exist anymore. Also, with everyone sleeping far from their parents, the boys and girls can enjoy each other in ways that perhaps fulfill all their high school fantasies.

But at my school, all first-year students ate in cafeteria and lived in dormitories with at least token supervision. The sexes were segregated by building. Alcohol was hard to come by.

Second-year, however, everyone moved into private rentals around the town, and some of us were responsible for everything for the first time. We not only had kitchens, but we had to manage our own grocery shopping, laundry, pay the electric bill, etc. It was the most “grown-up” chapter of our lives. I shared a 2-bedroom apartment with Andrew, my best friend from freshman year.

At the beginning of the Frosh year we were assigned to the same dorm, but on different floors. Andrew and I got along very well because we were similarly disinterested in sports and serious about our studies. This made us freaks because everyone around us was rabid about sports and happier to drink alcohol than read a book. We became fast friends and switched roommates at Christmas break in order to share a room. Our former roommates were delighted to get rid of the geeks they’d first been paired with!

I didn’t do very well with the ladies freshman year, but by the Spring Andy had fallen head over heels in love with a sweet Asian-American girl named Gwen. I had a few dates, but they didn’t lead to any relationships.

My outlet, and Andy’s too, was daily masturbation. College roommates at first hide this activity from each other. Gentle wanks under the blanket after lights out for some, a furtive trip down the hall to the bathroom stalls for others. Everybody knows what everyone else is doing, but somehow at first everyone is embarrassed by it.

Until one day they’re not. As the weeks turn to months, it was common for guys sharing a room to give each other permission to whack off whenever they wanted. The blankets came off, the toilets were avoided, and all over campus horny men were flogging their logs with their roommates right there. Sometimes watching.

Sometimes helping.

Andy and I were very helpful. We’d crawl up onto his bed sideways and put on a porn vid. Then we would masturbate at the same time. His dick was at least an inch, maybe two, longer than mine, but I didn’t care. Eventually we would, when invited, tug each other. I thought that was awesome; for the first time in my life, I was giving and receiving sexual pleasure from another person. It was a strange kind of intimacy, and everyone agreed that it wasn’t gay. Anal would be gay, but two dudes helping each other out was just, well, it was OK.

That first summer back home, deprived of the daily sexual release Andy gave me, I felt lonely and lost. I had a few dates that summer with friends of my sister, who kept trying to fix me up. None of them clicked with me and when the summer was over I went happily back to college, my virginity intact.


Second-year, in our off-campus apartment, Gwen began sometimes sleeping over with Andrew on weekends. Both of them were quite open about the fact that they were planning to be virgins until they married, not necessarily to each other. This seemed to me to be a bad deal for a guy. “I won’t have sex until I marry, and I have no plans to marry you” seems like a bleak future for a guy.

But Andy and Gwen seemed almost liberated by the banishment of sexual intercourse from their relationship. They were the cutest couple ever, holding hands, hugging and sexlessly kissing, behaving like 10-year-olds playing house. Andy let me know, discreetly, that when he needed “help” on a weekend, innocent little Gwen would take my place and jerk him off. He apologized to me one Sunday for “not being there for you,” but we continued to help each other most weeknights when Gwen was at her apartment. He never once teased me about having a small penis.

Gwen’s regular weekend sleep-overs drove me crazy with teen lust. Since their relationship was both passionately romantic but asexual, they both ran around a lot in their underwear acting like innocent kids, but with a lot of touching and fondling. I paid no attention to Andy’s half-naked body, of course, having spent many pleasant hours naked with him, but tight little Gwen with her A-cup bras and her cartoon character panties gave me a constant erection. My personal favorites were her “Hello Kitty” skimpy bikini panties because I knew she called her vagina her kitty.

One day she teased me for staring too hard. She cheerfully told me that the small shadow in her panties kocaeli escort I’d been staring at was her sparse Asian pubic hair. I got a short biology primer on how Asians are almost hairless, “…my little Chinese kitty has no fur to speak of.”

Gwen appeared oblivious that while she seemed not to think about sex, my cock was always about to explode in my pants. She gave her kitty a slight touch with one extended finger while watching me drool, then giggled, spun around, and dashed back to their room. I don’t know how Andy could sleep with her without attacking her. Well, I kind of did understand, because Andy and I were the least aggressive men on campus.

In October Gwen introduced me to her roommate, Vickie. Vickie was Korean-American, and as we double-dated several times the girls taught Andy and me about the differences between Chinese and Korean history and culture. Growing up in our white-bread suburbs, neither of us had exposure to Asians, or any foreigners. My roommate and I were enthralled by the women.

Vickie quickly wrapped me around her little finger; I fell head over heels in love. She was, like Gwen, tender and affectionate. Neither girl ever said an unkind word about anyone. But there was one problem: Vickie, too, was going to save herself for marriage. The two of us soon fell into the same behaviors as Andy and Gwen, incessant kissing and touching, no sexual intercourse. Vickie sometimes slept over in my bed, and it was exquisite torture.

Vickie did permit me one liberty that Gwen had so far denied Andy: she enjoyed my playing with her “kitty”. She would almost always have a quiet little orgasm when I fingered her clit just right. But then, after I satisfied her, she shyly refused to reciprocate. After every orgasm I gave her, she watched me beat my own meat and ejaculate all over my stomach. She was absolutely fascinated by seeing my dick shoot a load all over myself. I must have been the first cock she ever saw naked, because she never mentioned my size. No matter how hard I begged her, she refused to touch my jizz, not even to wipe me off. She said cum was “sticky and stinky” and that she would never want to touch it.

Somehow Vickie convinced Gwen to manage Andy the same way. He was very thankful the next weekend when Gwen agreed that being fingered to orgasm was something she might enjoy while still safeguarding her virginity.

Andy and I were self-taught in the vaginal arts, but the girls coached us and improved our skill levels. We settled into a weird domestic bliss, Andy and Gwen in their room, Vickie and I in ours. The guys would finger-fuck the Asian princesses and then cum all over ourselves for their viewing pleasure.

The girls, always looking for something naughty to do, made a secret agreement to be less discreet, and they were soon vocalizing their orgasms, each mainly to tease the other couple listening furtively on the other side of the wall.

The girls taught us how to play their bodies like musical instruments, and Friday and Saturday nights at our place the kitties made a lot of noise for each other’s enjoyment. Eventually, they agreed not to close the bedroom doors, and Andy and I were better able to listen to each other’s gentle humiliation as we beat our own untouched cocks and wiped up our own “disgusting” splooge.


The fox first approached our henhouse Presidents Day weekend. The four of us were at a fraternity party, drinking, and dancing when one of the grad students started flirting with the girls. Troy was in his late twenties and had spent three years in military service before starting his Master’s program the preceding September. He had spent time assigned overseas and had done temporary duty in Korea. He was what Asian-Americans call a “pearl diver”, a derogatory term for Caucasian men with an Asian pussy fetish. There were at least 25 women in the room, and Troy had eyes for only two of them, Gwen and Vickie. You need to know that every single Asian-American female over the age of ten is familiar with pearl divers. Every Asian parent tells their daughters to stay away from Caucasian and African-American men when their first utterance is “Where are you from?”

Troy invited one, then the other girl to dance, but they declined. Twenty minutes later he pulled up an empty folding chair to our table and asked if we minded sharing the space. Given how crowded the room was, this was reasonable. He soon got up and, without being asked, fetched a new round of drinks to our table. Andy started to decline, but I quickly thanked him and passed the drinks around. He didn’t try to bust into our conversation, but sat quietly and limited his comments to pleasantries about the music or the dancers. He was a tall, solid-looking guy and seemed to occupy more than his fair share of space. But he had a killer smile and was friendly without being creepy, and the four of us gradually relaxed and “admitted him” to our group.

Gwen asked Andy to dance with her and he started kocaeli escort bayan to beg off. Gwen probably could have twisted his arm, but before she got a chance Troy announced that Gwen couldn’t turn him down *now* and took her away by the arm before anyone knew what was happening. He was a good dancer — better than me or Andy, not that we set a high standard. Vickie and I left Andy alone, and joined Troy and Gwen on the dance floor.

During the first song, Vickie and I could tell from Gwen’s body language that she wasn’t comfortable dancing with this stranger, but by the second or third dance, she was more relaxed. Gwen liked dancing more than the rest of our group, and Troy was a good partner for her. When the four of us went back to the table, Troy took a seat next to Gwen, and we all slammed back another round.

Troy then insisted, playfully, that Vickie give him a dance, and now Andy, Gwen and I watched Troy and my girlfriend dance. Maybe because none of us still felt like Troy was an intruder, Vickie seemed surprisingly comfortable in Troy’s arms.

Not that the bigger man was doing anything improper; he was a total gentleman. But he kept Vickie on the floor for two slow dances, and it began to bother me a little that the two of them were so close.

I won’t describe all the dances. Sometimes Troy sat with one couple while the other couple danced and other songs Troy danced with one of the girls while Andy and I watched from the sidelines. The evening wound down uneventfully with an invitation from Troy to a party at his place Sunday night, Monday being the holiday. We had all enjoyed ourselves, and we had all had a few drinks over our limit. Andy and I were oblivious to the havoc Troy would soon wreak on our lives.

Compared to undergraduate students, Grad school students like Troy have undemanding classroom schedules. Any night they feel like partying, they can sleep in late the next morning. Once the four of us fell in with Troy’s group, any night could be a party night. Vickie and Gwen, it developed, loved to party. The four of us were soon partying two or three nights a week at Troy’s apartment, drinking, dancing, and smoking up.

Gwen, the best dancer of our foursome, spent more and more time dancing with Troy and a few of his friends. All these guys were older than us, taller and wider than Andy and I, coarser, more uncensored. Don’t get the wrong idea — neither Andy nor I are delicate metrosexuals humming show tunes. But we’re average height, average weight, and, to be honest, about average hung. Andy was on the far side of average and I was on the near side, but we were normal guys. Neither one of us plays a sport, works out, has muscle. Troy was bigger and stronger and, Gwen first reported and Vickie confirmed, hung like a mule. The girls were soon giving Troy all the slow dances.

One night when the four of us got particularly impaired, Troy gave us a ride home. Gwen invited him in “to unwind for a few minutes” and, even though Andy tried to cut it off – “I’m sure Troy is tired, honey” – he of course accepted. Troy suggested we put on some music and, while Andy and I became more and more forlorn, Troy danced every song with one of the two girls, mostly Gwen. As the touching and rubbing became more and more obvious, Andy finally tried to put his foot down.

“Troy, this has been awesome, but I really think we need to hit the rack. Maybe Gwen and I should go to bed now. See you Wednesday?”

If I hadn’t been a little drunk our future would have become clear to me right then. Troy stared at Andy and in a gentle, even soft tone, as if explaining something to a child, said “Easy, young man. I think Gwen is old enough to decide for herself, don’t you?”

Then, standing still, but still holding her in his arms, he said softly to Gwen, “Princess, do you want me to go home right now? Cause I could dance a little longer if you want me to.”

No one made a sound for the longest time until Gwen turned toward Andy to say “just a few more songs, OK honey? We can sleep in tomorrow.”

And just like that, Gwen was his. Oh, Andy didn’t see it at first. He drank some more and fussed and moaned. But he’d lost Hello Kitty. Gwen didn’t know it at first, either. She thought she could keep Troy performing for her like Andy did.

Twenty minutes more dirty dancing and Gwen suddenly announced that Troy was giving her a ride home to the girls’ apartment. In a flash, they were out the door. Even in the dim light and through my beer goggles I could see the enormous lump in Troy’s pants. Gwen had been rubbing up against that for an hour; no wonder she was interested.

Vickie and I went to my room and silently brushed our teeth. Neither one of us knew what to say about Gwen’s betrayal of Andy. I think neither one of us knew what to think. We went to bed, and she wouldn’t let me touch her. “You’re too drunk baby. Maybe we’ll play tomorrow.” She rolled over away from me and I went to sleep.


As izmit escort soon as she woke up the next morning Vickie phoned Gwen. There were a lot of whispers and giggles and Vickie quickly took the call into the bathroom to close the door so I couldn’t hear her.

That didn’t work so well — I planted my ear against the door and caught most of what Vickie said. TL;dr — Troy didn’t leave Gwen until 2:00 am. Gwen’s still a virgin. Troy’s cock is twice the size of Andy’s. Oral sex is fantastic. Gwen lost count of her orgasms. No, in fact sperm is delicious. Of course she was going to do it again.

As Vickie emerged I made no effort to move or to conceal that I had listened at the door.

“You heard that?” she snarled at me and then, quickly, “That whore.”

I was astonished. I thought Vickie would be mad at me for listening, but she was instead mad at her best friend.

“Brush your teeth; you smell like a beer keg. Then come back to bed.” I did, used a little mouthwash, and washed my face and hands. Looks like my fingers were going to get some action. My cock hardened.

Vickie was laying on top of the bedcovers, naked. I had of course seen all of her body parts at one time or another, but never all at once. I had been naked in front of her, but she had never been completely naked in front of me.

Her beauty took my breath away. Her small breasts were perfect, pale A-cups topped by pink nipples, her tummy was as taut as a drum, and her pussy had the tiniest sprinkling of soft fur. Her labia gleamed under the harsh ceiling light — talking to Gwen had made her unusually damp.

I felt my balls churning, and hoped I wouldn’t humiliate myself by cumming too soon. Was this going to be the best day of my life? Troy seduces Gwen and I get laid? Wow.

Not quite. As I crawled up from the foot of the bed, trying to get next to her without tangling my erection in the crumpled bedlinen, my cock ready to burst, she stopped me halfway. I looked up at her, puzzled. My lips were near her belly button. My hips were pumping into the bed, out of control.

“Have you ever eaten a girl,” she asked coldly, her eyes cold and dark. I shook my head “no”.

She moved her hands to cradle my head and move it near her crotch. “I want to try it; Gwen says it’s terrific.”

It took me a few minutes to get the hang of it, but Vickie was patient and told me where and how hard. She eventually had a small orgasm, which I took as a gold medal. She didn’t know or care that I had blown my wad into the comforter while suckling on her clitoris.


We had a new rhythm now. The girls continued to come to our apartment often, but Troy sometimes “gave them a ride over” as if this was a great favor, then the girls would invite him in, “to be polite”. He always brought beer or grass, and while there was a hint something going on with him and the girls, it lurked under the surface and rarely burst into the open.

They both seemed to really like him, and the first time he asked to crash on our couch the girls agreed before Andy and I had a chance to say anything. I don’t doubt we would have consented — he was drunk. On the other hand, getting too drunk to drive seemed like something he elected to do, and painted Andy and me into a corner.

Troy on the sofa became a fairly regular Saturday night thing, and I now became uncomfortable about our normal, casual almost-nudity. It was one thing for Gwen or Vickie to wander around in their underwear when it was just the four of us, but Troy was here now. What had seemed cute, girlish, almost asexual behavior previously now seemed kind of slutty and provocative.

Troy was not only delighted by the view but began wandering around Sunday morning wearing nothing but the boxers he slept in. I constantly caught Vickie and Gwen watching his sizeable endowment swaying in his shorts. For their part, the girls had begun to wander around at night. It had always been common for them to come to bed and stay in their (our) bedrooms. I mentioned that they had stopped closing the doors, but each of them washed up at night, stripped in our rooms, put on their nightgowns or pajamas, and then did not emerge until at least partially dressed the next morning.

I had never once seen Gwen naked under her nightie, and Andy had never seen Vickie except wearing at least a bra and panties. But now with Troy on the living room couch, the girls began to wander around after lights out. At first, it was just one of them going down the hall to talk to the other one. Then it became going to the kitchen for a glass of water. Eventually, of course, they started kissing us goodnight and then suddenly remembering that there was something they forgot in the living room.

Troy was in pearl diver heaven. Nothing terribly sexual happened the first few times, but the flirting was raging out of control. One night I tiptoed down the hall behind Vickie and spied her sitting on the couch, lightly tracing the outline of Troy’s penis through his boxers. He gently stroked her breast with the back of his hand, barely rubbing her nipple through her nightie.

“Don’t, Troy. I just want to see it. I didn’t say you can touch me.”

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