Step Inside

by Molly Hoffer

  I had an erogenous zone in the curve of my ass, and when he massaged that spot, I stopped thinking all together, and was lost in the sensations of the moment. Sensing that I was nearing his own mindless state, he pulled my thong off my ass, past my long, thin legs and also tossed it on the softly carpeted floor.

  Now we were both stark naked. Nick was already naked under his covers when I came in, and as we continued to kiss each other, wrapping our legs around our wastes, and between the other’s legs, I was noticing how toned and delicately muscled his chest was. It was ripped, but there was no fat on his belly either. His skin was a pale white, and he didn’t have too much hair across his body. I even considered if he was one of those metrosexuals that did a bit of shaving to keep their chests neat. Either way, every inch of his body was angelically attractive and I was sticking to his sweaty skin like a magnet.

  We wrestled for the top position for a few moments, when I realized that my leg muscles were almost as strong as his. He would push his torso into me, and I would push him back down, as we continued to kiss, now doing a bit of tongue wrestling too.

  Finally, he won by hopping up over me, and pulling my legs up into my chest, revealing my throbbing vagina and ass for the taking. I tossed my hands back and exhaled, acknowledging my defeat. He accepted the compliment, and pulled my hands down over the pillow, keeping them in place. He then gently massaged the edge of my vagina with his cock. Then, he liberated one of my arms, and massaged my vagina with his fingers, pushing more and more of them into my moist and hot opening. “Uuuh,” I moaned quietly.

  Hearing the moan, he calculated that I was ready for him, and he thrust his cock into my pussy with rapid vigor. Then he took it out gradually, as if teasing me, and then pushed it back in quickly. He was flexing his entire torso and back with each thrust, and was rubbing his groin against my clitoris, and massaging the clitoris with his free hand. He started to thrust his cock into me faster and faster, and I spread my legs further apart, and wrapped them around his back. I pulled my own pelvis into him in rhythm with his thrusts, and contracted my vaginal muscles over his cock to get an even stronger sensation.

  It was almost perfect, but there was a slightly different rhythm and direction that usually gave me a g-spot orgasm, so I used Nick’s slight loss of muscle power, due to his concentration of energy into the penis, to gently flip Nick over and to get on top of him. I inserted his cock into my pussy, and pushing his shoulders down for support, I began to pulsate and massage his cock with the lips of my vagina at the exact rhythm and with a certain wave that really hit the spot. Since he had a bit more energy in that position, he now began massaging my clitoris more rapidly with one hand and massaged my breasts and buttocks with the other. All of these sensations across my entire body put me into a trance, and we were doing that for a good long while. Both of us were slowing down just as we felt an orgasm was unavoidable because both wanted that near-climatic sensation to last forever.

  I held it in as long as I could, but when Nick kissed my right nipple in a way that was more like a milking than a caress, I erupted into orgasmic spasms, and the contractions of my vagina against his cock pushed it past the edge too and he also burst with cum, pulling out of my just as it covered and dripped down his cock, splashing upwards too at the edges of my pussy. Neither of us was exactly ready for a baby, so this was good thinking, though I wasn’t clear-sighted enough to have remembered a condom, and if he left the exit to me, I might have forgot all about it in the moment of release.

  I couldn’t remain up there over Nick’s torso a moment longer, so I fell off him, just having enough energy to flip over to lie down on the comforter, looking up at the carved ceiling and crystal chandelier. Hm, they’re identical to what I have in my room… I thought for some reason.

  After that deep thought, a few more thoughts gradually came into my head and among these were the realization that I had hoped my parents would find us in the act, and not lying around afterwards. Maybe I just wasn’t loud enough, and they didn’t hear us? I had remembered to leave my door open, and the light on. I scanned the clock. It was now 1:30am, they had to have come back from the fundraiser, and they never lasted this late. Then, I caught myself in this line of thought and I questioned if it was “normal” for me to still hate and want to see Nick kicked out after we had just experienced a perfectly fantastic orgasm together. I looked over at Nick; his face was stuck on a perfectly ecstatic grin, as if his orgasm was still vibrating his cock. He looked over and smiled at me tenderly, as if he was about to say that he loved me. I smiled back, trying to match his look, but internally miles apart. Sex with Nick was calmer and more natural with my other partners. Even if we hadn’t spoken much over the past year, I knew more about Nick’s past, and I had heard him casually chatting at the dinner table for a year now. His smell, his smile, his hair, everything was familiar and soothing. He also was very responsible during sex, and our bodies communicated without a word needing to be said. There was an animalistic merging between us, and now that I was recalling my purpose in that bed, the intimacy I just felt with Nick was frightening and appalling. I wasn’t scared of much about sex, having tried just about everything and liked most of it, but no man had ever looked like he was about to tell me that he loved me after sex before… I felt as if my throat was closing up in a panic attack, and all I could do to open it was sit up, pull the comforter to cover my breasts, and put on a self-satisfied evil little grin.

  “All we have to do now is do it again a bit louder,” I said.

  “Wha… err…” he said, a bit confused by the contrast between my evil grin, and the idea I was raising, which agreed with him.

  “I mean, you know what this is about, right?”

  “This?... I think I do…”

  “You know, I’m trying to get busted fucking you, so ma and pa will kick you to the curb, right?”

  Nick sat up too, trying to wrap his mind around what I was saying. “Why would you do that?” His smile disappeared and a cloud had come over his face.

  “Because I fuckin’ hate you Nick. I fuckin’ hate everything about you! I hate that you’re milking my parents! I hate when you stay up late reading, and I can’t fall asleep! I hate having some dude stinking up the hallway in the morning! I hate you, and I’d do anything to see you go da heck out of my life!” I was pretty hysterical, as adrenaline was rushing to my head, as I worked myself up, struggling between the strange feeling of closeness, and the agonizing reality of my inability to respond to these strange emotions with anything but a total shutdown and overload of my senses.

  Nick suddenly realized that he had some drying cum on his fingertips, and it was suddenly embarrassing and grotesque to him, so he wiped it on the comforter, and then realized that he was acting alike a brute, or that the maid might notice the stain. The humiliation shifted his face from sadness into rage, and he said, controlling his voice enough to avoid waking anybody in the house, “All you had to do to make me leave was ask me to leave, I don’t stay where I’m not wanted!”

  “Then, I’m definitely asking you to leave, or I don’t know what I might do next…” I threatened, feeling even more out of my mind with hysteria than before.

  “Then, get da heck out of my room, so I can start packing,” Nick said standing up, still stark naked, and pointing to the door.

  “Good, bye-bye,” I said, picked up and pulled on my thong and negligee from the floor, and rushed out of his room and into my own, without looking back at him.

  I went to sleep hoping that I could sleep for a very long time, and that when I woke up, Nick would be long gone, and I would have to look him in the eye again, and that there wouldn’t be any new explanations, or emotional outbursts, so that the scene that just unraveled would be the final tragic ending to our sexual clash.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I took breakfast in my room to avoid running into Nick. I heard him talking with my parents in the dining room as I ate, and wondered if there was any chance he was tellin
g them about our brief affair himself. I realized that they would’ve fished me out of my room immediately, if he did, so I tried to focus on other things. I did my nails. I was pretty frustrated as I recalled a few moments from the previous night, so I went over to the spa and ordered a massage, which was promptly delivered by Tim, the barefooted, yoga-practicing, masseuse that frequently talked about chi and spirit energy as he very light massaged my body. I kind of liked Olga’s massage technique more, as she believed that the harder she pushed against meat and muscles the more health benefits came out, but she was out that day.

  As I walked back to my room, I noticed Fedor and half of the house’s staff was in Nick’s room, busy with something substantial. I could hear them moving bags around from my room for at least an hour afterwards. I started to think that Nick really followed through on his threat to leave the household, and this made me giddy, as for perhaps the first time that year I was going to win a social battle.

  Then, all the noise in Nick’s room stopped, and it sounded like they all went back to the dining room. Fedor knocked on my door and came in. I would usually yell at the door, “Don’t enter!” if it wasn’t a good time, and otherwise he knew that a few moments of time meant, “Enter.”

  “Would you like to come down to the dining room for lunch? We are saying good bye to Nick,” Fedor said. He seemed pretty dejected.

  “Errr…” I wanted to say, “No, I’m busy,” but then he would’ve asked, “With what? Why don’t you want to say good bye…” It was easier to just say, “Sure, I’ll be right down.”

  I tossed on some casual black pants and a simple red t-shirt. I even just put on my fuzzy slippers to avoid looking like I prepared in any way for the event.

  When I entered, my parents, older brother, and Nick were pretty much done with lunch and were deep in conversation. I sat at the other side of the table, a few seats away from the others, and tried to blend into the surroundings. If Nick was leaving, the last thing I needed was to betray my feelings about him in front of everybody that would still be around after he left.

  “Yes, clearly, since you are over eighteen, you can move out on your own, but if you don’t know where you’re moving or what you’ll do for work, you really should stay here, figure these out, and then move,” my dad was saying, trying to bring some logic to the table.

  Nick obviously noticed when I came in, but he kept his eyes on my dad’s face, and didn’t look in my direction. Seeing me enter brought a stern look over his face, while before he was trying to appear cheerful and certain about his decision.

  “I posted the gaming system you guys gave me on eBay, and I already have some bids. I’m pretty sure I have a month-worth of stuff I can sell, and that will be plenty of time to find a job,” Nick replied.

  “You’re selling gifts,” I couldn’t help snorting. Here we go. I was definitely right about him.

  “They’re my gifts… You guys don’t mind if I do that, do you?”

  “No, not at all,” my mom said, shaking her head. “Who needs a gaming system anyway? You’d be putting that stuff to better use.”

  “We were planning on filing to adopt you…” my dad said, remembering an argument he hadn’t mentioned before.

  “No. That’s just ridiculous. Why would I need to be adopted?! I really just want to be free and out there doing my own thing,” Nick objected before my dad could finish.

  “If that’s what you want,” dad concluded, and that was the end of that.

  Nick’s things were packed in a couple of bags, and he had used his allowance and profits from some eBay sales to rent a cheap studio down in Brooklyn that very morning. Our chauffeur came up and helped him with his bags. As he was leaving, he scanned me with disdain, and I said, “Bye!” He didn’t reply, and just went downstairs, and must’ve looked pretty snobby arriving in his new dumpy studio in a limo.

  I went back to my room, and finally had some quiet time to plan the monumental events that were about to unravel in my life. Sure, my days in Trinity were over, but only a short summer separated me from starting my studies at Columbia. Maybe other kids just put aside their schoolwork for the summer, but being at Trinity trained me to find out what we’d be studying next year, so that I’d always be ahead of other students. Knowing that we’d be reading A Tale of Two Cities meant that I could have twice less weekly readings later on. Taking time off to go clubbing on weekends, meant that all those extra summer hours always paid off in more free time when I needed it. Plus, I wasn’t talking with Meg yet, and we wouldn’t even be in the same college, so one of the fun reasons to go clubbing was absent.

  I met with the middle-aged chubby woman who was assigned as my Dean at Columbia, and she said that I could get up to 12 credits if I did an internship, and I decided that the best way for me to understand the field of business in practice was to intern in my family’s corporation. I could start in my first year, so I immediately queried dad. He told me that there were thousands of internship applications every year, so I had to do something as silly as put a resume together and apply through the website everybody else used to be fair. Thankfully, I was in the top 5% of my class at Trinity, did a study abroad, and had some prior experience editing a school newspaper, so I was the top candidate in the mix.

  So, the summer flew by in preparations for every possibility and for every component of what was to follow. My pre-school shopping spree was once again epic, and there was even a picture of me trying on an outfit on 5th Avenue in the New York Times, in an article on the back-to-school shopping binges.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I’m just glad that I didn’t have to change my address, as I’m sure living in a dorm would’ve made me homicidal. I scheduled 18 semester hours in the first fall semester, and on top of it took on a 20-hour internship with our company, so at first I didn’t have time to think about anything else. I’d wake up at 6am. Then, I took the limo to a few classes, which were stacked one-after-the-other to avoid multiple trips over to the Columbia campus. After school, I ate a quick lunch at home, and then went to the building next door to the top floor executive offices, where I was given very unique duties for an intern, but not ambitious enough for my plans. Then, I’d come home at 6pm, and would do my homework. There was even more to do on the weekends, and come finals, I started skipping lunch to get everything done.

  My business classes and the business reality at the company were in conflict with each other. The books said that corporations pay more than average Americans in taxes, but in reality when I helped in the corporate tax department, I discovered that we paid near $0 in taxes because of deductions to charities, business expenses, and various other loopholes, most of which were definitely not on my accounting final.

  During the fall break, I took a few days to drive up to D.C. with my dad, where we talked about new tax breaks with a lobbyist that then brought these ideas to the senators and representatives. I visited the House and the Senate chambers to watch him work from the sidelines, and he was really out there in the lobbies and approaching every senator with an actual checkbook, offering campaign contributions in exchange for the tax breaks in question. It was dizzying to watch him work, and one thing I was sure of is that I wouldn’t be a lobbyist when I grew up.

  In the spring semester, my classes got even tougher. I loathed calculus. Trigonometry was ok. Statistics was fine and logical. But calculus was unbearable. I had this elderly disabled professor, who could barely pronounce a full sentence without blubbering, drooling and losing his train of thought. I had to get a tutor that translated all those lectures into comprehendible English, and this took up even more of my time, and kept me running in hectic circles.

  Of course, that whole time I was aware that my family had so much money that I could’ve gone on a permanent vacation in Hawaii when I turned eighteen, and waited for my inheritance to be transferred when I turned twenty-five, meanwhile living of my enormous allowance. This thought made it difficult to focus when I was cramming at 2am before a final, b
ut I always recalled my American history classes in high school, and how excited I was to read about Rockefeller, and to see a notation about the patriarch of our own family, right next to that business tycoon. There were no notations in those books about Rockefeller’s bratty grandchildren that went and lived in Hawaii, achieving nothing of significance themselves. Sure, the Hilton sisters were making headlines for their looks and style at around that time, but could I really compete with them on my best day?

  The years in college started moving faster. I got used to the busy routine, and so I suddenly realized that I had some free time left over, so I filled in my schedule with more activities. I started as the News Editor, and then became the Editor-in-Chief of Columbia’s daily student newspaper. I also joined the Student Senate, running for office on the off-campus ticket. I didn’t even need to bribe anybody this time around; the chance to meet my dad and other members from my company was worth more to Columbia students than a brick of gold because a job with us was a key goal to a majority of students that got to Columbia on scholarships rather than legacies. Socializing with the students in the Senate, at the paper, and those that came to my gatherings became my part-time job, as if I was a new socialite in training. I had an enormous circle of acquaintances, but because anybody could be vying for my editing, senate or other positions, I always saw the people around me as competitors, and didn’t share more than what I could stand to see in next day’s paper. And, I did see a few articles about me in the Globe and the Times, as my internship expanded from an observatory minor role, to a part-time job in the Head Office.