Bert chuckled. He loved listening to these gorgeous women saying things like that about him. The teenager felt more and more like the big time stud. In reply, he said, "I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you, Barbara." He paused a moment for empahsis, then continued, "I'm missed one chick in London. It was in Chelsea back in '03. She managed to elude me somewhere around Trafalgar and I…"
He was cut off when Barbara tossed a convient pillow off the sofa over his face.
"Liar! But I don't care. When'll you be ready for a rematch?"
Bert shifted the pillow to a more confortable position under his head. When would he be ready again? He glanced furtively at his depleted organ. He wasn't sure if it would ever be ready again, not after the incredible fuckings Julia had demanded. And his nervous energy reserves were used up, too. It wasn't easy watching a chick get off a dozen – or more? – times while your dick was coursing up and down inside her. And eating another out at the same time…
Bert answered, "Not for at least ten minutes or so…"
He surprised both himself and the two roommates. It was closer to thirty than ten, but it still surprised them all. Pleasantly.
Chapter 6
Bert and Cruncher were sitting in the cafeteria trying vainly to digest the rotten fare that had been passed off as food that day. Cruncher had a way with words, could be excruciatingly descriptive when the mood moved him. Looking at the creamed corn puddled on his tray, he had grumbled "Dog vomit" and pretty well killed anyone else's enjoyment of the food, if there had been anyone else at the table with an iron stomach who could have eaten and enjoyed such a poor meal. When he had almost finished his meal, leaving the creamed corn, Cruncher loudly proclaimed, "This is the only goddamn place I know where they buy army-surplus canned leftovers.
Bert hadn't been able to eat much, a combination of lack of appetite and no great desire to get sick on the food.
He said, "Hey, Crunch, could we talk for a couple of minutes? In private?"
"Sure, kid. Always glad to help you out."
The giant shoved his chair back, and Bert trailed after his letterjacket clad friend. They went outside and sat down on the ridiculous fountain made from four thousand beer cans and coat hangers that the previous year's senior class had given the school.
"What can I do for you?"
"It's about Carole." Bert took a deep breath and continued before he lost his courage. "I'm still hung up on that chick. I've found some really dynamite foxes, but it's Carole that I want. It's an obsession. I just can't kick it."
Cruncher looked at his friend, edged away slightly as if he were afraid Bert would do him bodily harm and said, "I got a confession Bert. I told you all that about Carole because I was trying to get in her pants. You know? I didn't want you cutting in on my territory." He looked repentant.
Bert only looked stunned. "Cut in on your territory? Me? The zero in the equation when it comes to girls?"
Cruncher shook his head. "Zero, my ass! Alana keeps dropping hints all over the place about what you two did in the darkroom, and I'm not blind. You've got something BIG going with Miss Munoz. No chick looks at a guy like she looks at you without something heavy going on. With Alana on the hook and Miss Munoz chasing after your tender young bod, why worry about Carole? Hell, take the best you can get and forget about Miss Iceberg."
"I'm not putting you on. This is the gospel truth. I did everything I could think of, and I couldn't get to first base with her. She's even dumped Tony. I don't know what kind of trip she's on. Seems absolutely frigid. Won't put out for anybody, makes the guys come begging to her. And then she only picks the suckers with lots of bread or tons of prestige."
"And…?" Bert was curious to see what Cruncher's appraisal of the girl was. He had noticed the same thing. Carole would go after someone with lots of prestige or money – or both – then drop them suddenly without any warning. And, although quite a few had bragged about actually fucking her, there was a ring of bravado and maschismo to the tales that didn't ring true.
"To tell you the truth, Bert, she's a cock teaser. She gets her jollies stringing a guy along, getting him hot and primed, then pulls the rug from under him. She'll walk off, leaving the sap with a hard-on and laughing at how easy it was to humiliate him."
Crunch shrugged his massive shoulders. "My advice, Bert. Leave her alone. She didn't think a football jock was worth her trouble – I doubt she'd ever consider a high school newspaper photographer would be worth the trouble. And even if she did go out with you, it would be heartbreak hotel time. You know what I mean?"
Bert nodded. Carole van der Hoff did fit into the classic pattern of a cock teaser and he had heard the rumors of what she did to her dates but there was an elemental attraction. Bert refused to give up on the frigid chick and besides, he had a plan.
"Thanks, Crunch. I've still got the hots for her, though. But I've an idea which'll maybe get me a date."
Cruncher Hiatt smirked. "What ya gonna do, ball her old lady?" He laughed uproariously at the idea. He laughed even harder when he heard Bert's reply.
"That's not such a bad idea, Crunch. Not bad at all."
Bert wasted no time after school. He hurried over to the van der Hoff residence. He knew Carole wasn't there because this was the night she stayed late at the school for cheerleader practice. Bert walked up the steps to the front door and started to ring, then changed his mind. He tried the doorknob and found it securely locked. On impulse, he went around to the back yard and checked th sliding glass door.
It was open. With the way clear, Bert crept into the house. The record player was blaring out a Linda Ronstadt album. Bert would have stayed to listen to the dulcet, melodic tones of "Love Has No Pride" but he had bigger things on his mind…and in his pants.
The hissing of water from the bathroom indicated that Robin was busily taking a shower. Bert quickly checked through the house, just on general principles. He didn't want to get caught with this little act, not that it mattered that much to him. To his future with Carole, yes, it did matter, but otherwise, he had nothing to lose.
He opened the bathroom door slightly and looked into the steamy interior. The mirrors were fogged from the high humidity in the small room. Perfect. He quickly discarded his clothes and dumped them in the hall, then slipped quietly through the door. The heat and water droplets suspended in the air assailed the youth instantly. The subtle fragrances of the shampoo Robin used took a few seconds to insinuate themselves into his overloaded queue of sensory inputs.
The translucent shower door prevented Bert from a good, clear view, but the partially obscurred view was far more exciting. It left a lot to his imagination, and he let that run rampant. The plastic in the door was a ripply sea green duplicating the ocean waves thundering against the beach. Bert could picture the scene; the color was perfect, the sound of the water hissing inside the stall fitted beautifully.
But that wasn't the beautiful fit Bert truly desired. He wanted the fit of Robin's man-trap around his cock. The only way he could get that flashing figure wrapped around his was to climb into the stall with her. Standing in the moist atmosphere of the room and just looking wouldn't do it for him.
He yanked the door open and jumped inside before much of the water jetting down from the nozzle could find its way onto the floor outside the shower. Robin was looked glorious naked and totally wet. She appeared to Bert as some form of water nymph come alive from the dry, dusty mythology books.
"Bert!" she shrieked. "What are you…I mean…wha…?" The woman was confused and tried to back away, an impossibility in the narrow confines of the stall. With an ages-old reflex, she tried to cover her snatch with one hand, her glistening boobs with the other.