♪ I'm the one who's got it all ♪

Hi, I'm Amy from the previous story, and now that you've read about our great adventure in the sauna, which ended with my husband Ric dragging the unknown Don into our room, it's time for you to know more about my past.
I'm 5'10". I have dark, non-azevich-black hair that falls to the waist when not braided. Most of the time I wear a braid that falls to the middle of my back. I have blue-green eyes, medium to large breasts that have withstood gravity for the time I've spent on earth. I'm 26 years old and a graduate student. I think my appearance and effects can be called feminine. I generally wear very modest dresses, skirts, blouses and jackets. I never wear heels. At home and going to the shops and other places of less formal routines I prefer shorts, regattas and glued tops.
When I was younger, I hated it when people stared at me in the street. I especially hated it when a guy tried to look at the side of my middle breast when I was skating and bending over. As a result, I used to wear wide, large T-shirts and jeans most of the time when I needed to be in crowds of people.
Surprisingly, it wasn't meeting Ric that changed my mind about showing my body as a means of sexual expression. I had become an incurable exhibitionist long before our relationship. Even more surprisingly, it was another girl who introduced me to it.
As a graduate student in the past, I attended college for several years in a state far away from my home, where freshmen from out of state were required to live on campus before that was an option in subsequent years, and I shared a dorm with another girl named Carol.
I was in my "Gothic" phase, shall we say, and, as I said before, I preferred bulky T-shirts and loose trousers chosen from a wardrobe of mostly black suits, and I guess you could say I wasn't really interested in boys at that point in my life. I was a dedicated student.
I mean, I wasn't a weird girl or anything. I had dated before and I didn't hate boys, but at nineteen I was still a virgin, and frankly, I couldn't figure out what this confusion about sex was. I masturbated from time to time, usually in the shower, but I didn't think about anything in particular, I just went with the flow and used the shower the best way I could.
Going back to my roommate Carol, she and I got along very well. She was shorter than me, about five feet tall, blonde with a slender build. Carol was more athletic and less modest than me.
We were in the same class together for about two months, and we settled into the academic routine, coming home from class late in the afternoon, eating, studying, sometimes watching TV or listening to music, and then going to bed around ten o'clock at night.
We had gone to bed, and I had really fallen asleep, when I awoke from a deep sleep. Outside, the autumn winds were shaking the bedroom windows, and besides the little light coming from the outside hallway under the railing below the door, our room was quiet and dark. We slept on one side of the room with our beds arranged to give us some privacy, but we were really only a foot or two apart, and if we turned our heads, we could see each other in the bed.
I was lying there, listening to the cold autumn wind shaking the building, and I realized that Carol wasn't sleeping, at least she wasn't breathing like someone who would be asleep, and I heard her sighing, and then another sound, almost masked by the sound outside.
I could hear a regular, rhythmic sound, muffled by the blankets covering her, but identifiable nonetheless; she was playing.
My first instinct was to go back to sleep, but at the same time I was intrigued and I must admit, very excited.
In fact, I had never been aroused so quickly in my entire life, my breathing deepened, my skin tingled, my nipples were so hard and erect that it almost hurt when the fabric of my sweater rubbed against them.
I stood there motionless, listening to Carol masturbate while my own excitement deepened and became more intense.
She was taking her time, slowing down almost to a crawl and then speeding up with reckless abandon. I could hear her catch her breath, groan as her hand slowed down and then speeded up again. She would reach the limit and then stop as her irregular breathing slowed down and became regular and then she would start rubbing the nozzle again.
She didn't stop, however. She went on for almost an hour, teasing herself until she was almost amused, stopping, recovering and then starting again. She enjoyed this almost torture, I'm sure.
Her knees were under the covers and I could see the other hand moving under the sheet that still covered her breasts, raising one nipple and holding the other with the same hand.
I was, almost unconsciously, caressing my own breasts for several minutes. In fact, I was holding them lightly and squeezing one after the other. I didn't really dare to touch my nipples because they were so erect and sensitive that I was afraid to give myself up.
At the same time, I was squeezing my legs together, feeling the slight pressure that this caused to send cascades of sensation from my little hard hail billowing out through my body. I could feel my fluid flowing from my excited, aching boob wet the inside of my thighs.
And Carol continued her torture by touching herself. As time went on, she became more and more careless of my proximity, whimpering and whispering incoherent things. She wasn't just rubbing her grill. I could hear her sticking a finger into her pussy and the wet sounds it made as she moved it in and out in the dark silence of the night.
How could I explain my own agony? The little hairs in my arms were tearing as if they were filled with electricity. As I squeezed my own legs, the smooth skin in contact sent a sensation like I had never experienced in my life. My breasts, which I had been holding gently for some time, literally hurt from excitement. They were swollen, somehow they were bigger than normal, and every time I squeezed them, I felt more burning and exposed than ever.
As I listened to Carol, I started doing something that I had never tried before -- embracing my imagination by doing something that would have the same effect on Carol, the same effect that her unconscious self-love was having on me.
In my mind, I pictured Carol sitting by my bedside watching as I provoked my own little sketch to ridicule, unable or unwilling, out of modesty or shame, to satisfy my own excitement while she watched me helpless.
I pictured her flushed cheeks, her hard nipples popping through her sweater and her smooth legs crossing and uncrossing endlessly as she sat and watched me, trapped in the same agony of excitement and shame that still prevented her from simply joining me in a mutual joke.
I was already excited before, my excitement was now ten times greater, the images that now flooded my fevered imagination became even more vivid and disturbing.
I pictured me and Carol masturbating in front of a bunch of naked, horny boys who were stroking their sticks, lost in watching us. I pictured first one and then another squirting jets of white cock in the air. I pictured Carol entering the group and sliding her slippery dick onto one of the sticks, and that was black, while the other boys and I watched her fuck the lucky guy's dick. The black-ruby stabbing her to the bottom without mercy.
I imagined myself sitting between two boys rubbing my xanax while they stroked their sticks, lost, watching Carol. I imagined one of the boys standing next to me getting up and approaching Carol. In front of me I saw Carol open her mouth and let her hard cock slide off before she could swallow it. The boy's cock began to sip hot cream into her mouth. Enough to fling herself and run down her breasts.
I found myself getting up and kneeling before the other boy by my side, offering my wordless mouth to relieve his repressed lust, all the while provoking my hard grin, shamelessly administering my own excitement right there in front of him.
I could almost feel the protrusion of his hard cock as I slid my warm, moist mouth over his thickness. I could smell his excitement and feel his slightly salty taste on his skin as I knelt in voluntary service to his lust.
All that time I lay motionless in my bed, except for the gentle touch of my swollen, tingling breasts. I almost lost track of what was happening in the bed on the other side of the room.
Part of the reason why I'd abstracted from time was because the images that filled my mind were a totally new revelation to me. I'd never experienced such vivid and comprehensive mental images. The other part was that my own feelings of excitement were so intense that I was no longer able to stop them, just as I was no longer able to slow down the sensations that swept through my body.
I was brought back to reality by the sound of Carol mocking.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her shivering under the covers and sighing as the sound of her fingers rubbing her wet, slippery pussy intensified. I could hear her muttering something low, a quick inhalation, a muffled sighing, and then, as the slippery sounds continued, she let out the air she had inhaled and shook so much that I heard the springs creak. She heard a pause and she rubbed herself quickly again, then silence took over the room. Silence reached my ears and then she relaxed, she lowered her legs and stretched herself back into bed. Outside, the wind still whistled around the building while satisfaction and relaxation waved from Carol's side of the room into the silences of mental pleasure.
As I listened to Carol slow down, I was more aware than ever of my own high degree of excitement. I lay there in the dark feeling my heart pounding and my body tingling and throbbing. I felt every beat of my heart make my nipples and my grill swell and throb as my superheated blood reached them.
For a few moments, I agonized, realizing that I would not have the willpower to wait until Carol went back to sleep to deal with my extreme excitement, but at the same time, I also realized that as excited as I was, I would be ashamed to start playing with my little girl while she remained awake in the bed next to me.
As the seconds began to stretch into eternity and I began to wonder if anyone could die from extreme heat, Carol solved the problem for me.
I heard the sheets flutter and I saw her swaying her legs on the floor. She got out of bed and walked to the bathroom door. She opened the door and turned on the light. For a brief second, I caught a glimpse of Carol's silhouette through the bathroom light. She was still wearing her underwear and the shirt she had gone to bed in. She walked in and closed the door, leaving me in the dark again. I heard the water start to come out of the shower, and I realized that the blessed relief I was looking for was just around the corner.
I slipped my panties down my legs and let them slip from my hair at the bottom of the bed, didn't bother to take off my sweater, continued to stroke my breasts, now lightly pinching my hard nipples as I reached for my skirt to touch my grill.
An electric shock seemed to travel through my tormented body, running from my grill to the nipple I was touching, through the hand that was touching it and around my grill again.
Immediately I began to masturbate with a more than urgent need, and the images that I had pushed out of my consciousness when Carol began to tease flooded back into my mind, and I was swept into a rising tide of purely sexual images and situations.
I imagined me and Carol standing in front of each other, naked and touching each other with total abandon, I imagined standing in front of a bunch of boys, fully dressed, wearing a short skirt that I would lift up so they could see my face as they grabbed their sticks, I would stand in front of them smiling sweetly, just pulling my skirt up high enough over my long legs to give them a glimpse of my secret place while their fucking sticks slipped off their sticks, and maybe, if I was sitting generously, I would grab the hard one of them and help caress it until it thickened into my hand and then play it by its creamy stick in the air.
I pictured Carol sitting there, watching as one of the boys tucked and slid his dick into my slippery little mouthful of lust. Although in real life no guy had ever eaten my mouthful, my imagination was more than up to the task. I could almost feel its thickness enlarging my wet, anxious mouthful and finally filling me with its delicious, pulsating dick.
I pictured myself touching my pussy, my grill, and one of the guys putting his dick in me and starting to fuck me. I felt him grow into a black man with a giant dick on the verge of tearing my pussy, who, however, could adapt to squeeze a dick no matter how big it was. This thought that my pussy could have a dick of any size was the ultimate perversion for me. All these guys ended up filling me with hot fucking.
I thought of situations that didn't seem particularly loaded with possibilities in the past, but that now ignited my lust and took me to even greater heights as I rubbed my swollen and dripping penis in the silence of my dorm room.
Situations where I was stared at, the feeling when a boy's eyes swept across my breasts or stared at my crossed legs as I sat quietly in a waiting room, and I imagined those same boys with me on a bed, as I stroked their sticks, as I abandoned myself and let them do whatever they wanted, and when they were satisfied, I wanted more, and I started dancing naked for them.
And now, here, I was imagining dancing naked so that they would touch their sticks, so that they would lose themselves in my body full of possibility.
I must have been so lost in this whirlwind of overwhelming pleasure that I didn't hear Carol close the shower, and I was reaching the peak of my sensations when the door opened and Carol stood in the light with a towel wrapped around her body.
I was faced with a terrible choice -- to act as if she had just caught me being naughty, turning me over in bed and waiting until she got dressed to sleep again and fell asleep to start over, or to go ahead and make fun of how urgent and desperate it was.
My finger rested on my erect, throbbing grill and in the microsecond I hesitated to think, my body decided for me. My finger made three small involuntary circles on my clitoris, one, two, three, and I went to the limit.
I can't remember if I whispered something like, "Oh no!" as I lost myself in the greatest orgasm I've ever had in my life, or if those words just slipped through my mind. Shame and embarrassment mingled with my excitement when I realized that Carol would see me mock no matter what I wanted to do or feel about her witnessing such a private and intimate moment.
I did my best to carry on as if I had turned over on the bed and to the side I was sleeping on. I ended up staring at Carol as my orgasm swept over me. I couldn't hold back a sigh and a sob as the waves of pleasure swept over my trembling body. My hand, clutched between my legs, could feel my mead bowl without any consideration for the fact that my roommate was at the door while I was brazenly mocking in front of her.
The intensity of my enjoyment made me inadvertently flex my legs together, and that slight friction in my hand, which was pressed between my legs and my clitoris, sent another cascade of orgasms washing over my body before the first had even subsided.
I stood there helpless, feeling my muzzle pour a liquid, creamy torrent into my clenched hand once again as I shivered and mocked like a tramp, unable to stop or even slow down the waves of pleasure as they mingled with the shame, fear and embarrassment that were staining my cheeks.
I was still doing that when Carol came across the room and knelt on the bed and asked me, "Amy, are you okay?"
I managed to find my voice as my blood flowed down my cheeks leaving them red and glistening, "Yes", I gasped, "I'm fine". My mind fought madly for something to say that seemed to make sense, "I think I was having a nightmare".
Real concern was on her face when she asked me, "Do you want to talk about it?"
As she knelt beside the bed, I could see the shower water trickling down her smooth, tanned shoulders and her towel had dropped a little revealing the shadow between her modest cleavage. Her still wet hair was dripping on the floor when I answered.
"Poor thing", she said, dropping the towel, she wrapped me in her arms as I felt my treacherous little face swell and pulsate once more, wetting my hand that was still stuck between my legs.
"I've had nightmares too", she whispered, her warm breath in my ear. "Sometimes the only thing that helps me is someone holding me".
The hug lasted only a moment and then she got up, took the towel, rolled it around her and went back to the bathroom to get dressed.
I took the opportunity to rearrange myself, wipe my wet hand on the sheet and find my panties that were thrown at the end of the bed and put them back as discreetly as possible.
She turned off the light in the bathroom, went back to her room and got into bed.
"Can you remember what the dream was?" she asked, her voice floating in the darkness like a disembodied ghost.
"You were in it", I replied.
Soon the only sound in the room was her regular breathing and the wind outside.
Now, a good girl would have spent the rest of the night in agony of shame and embarrassment, and to a certain extent, that's what I did. Listening to Carol's sleepy breathing, I couldn't believe I'd done it. When I stopped to think about exactly how I'd acted, I got aroused again and finally spent the rest of the night touching myself.
I spent much of the rest of the night pushing myself to the limit and stopping halfway through waiting for Carol to wake up to catch me in another "dream".
At one point, I threw the covers back and took off my sweater and panties, rubbing my smooth, throbbing cheek openly while Carol slept five feet away, oblivious to my urgency and excitement.
When the dawn tore the windows with its gray light, I was still playing with a very painful but willing sketch. I reached my final climax at the moment when Carol's alarm was ringing. Then she took a shower, got dressed and left. I missed my first lesson of the day, getting some much-needed sleep.
* * *
You never know where a story's gonna take you when you start writing it.
I've never had a chance to fully explain how Carol had such a strong influence on my sexuality, you've never had a chance to read how Ric and I met and became lovers, and I haven't written a word about some of the other adventures that Dan, Ric and I had together.
Dan says I should keep the story at a reasonable size so people don't get tired reading it, and Dan also says everyone has a turn, so I think Ric will be next in line.
One thing I can say is that the memories that have come to light have had a great effect on me, and on several occasions, I was just trying to type with my legs in one hand. For obvious reasons, we're letting Dan take care of publishing these stories.