Bitch, I Love You - Sex Stories

Bitch, I Love You

... them back on."

We both looked at her discarded underwear. They sat there, almost proudly. They weren't just damp. They were—and I use this word knowing it's terribly unsexy—slimy. We quickly looked away.

"I could take mine off too," I offered.

"Holly fuck, Mel. How about, I dunno, offering me a fresh pair? Do you think you're gonna get lucky or something?"

I couldn't help it, I winked at her.

"Gross," Heather said. She eyed my underwear drawer. My dorm room was small. The little dresser was closer to me and my swivel chair than it was to her.

I didn't move.

Heather sighed. She wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm being such a spaz about this."

"It's okay." I opened the drawer, picked out a pair of blue cotton panties, nothing special, but not threadbare, and tossed them to her. Pointedly, I swiveled away while she put them on.

"Thanks," she said, letting me know I could turn back around.

"We should probably talk about this, huh?" I said.

Heather flopped back onto my bed. Her skirt flew up and settled more around her waist than her thighs. My panties peeked out. Now that she had underwear on, it didn't seem to bother her anymore. "Probably," she agreed. But she didn't add anything more useful.

I figured I knew roughly what had my friend so flustered. And she had just offered me a rare and elusive Heather apology...

"You know," I said, "I wasn't thinking we were going to, um—" This was silly. Heather and I ...

... were usually so frank recounting our sexploits, and now I was resorting to euphemisms. "I wasn't thinking that we'd be hooking up duringit." I felt a little twinge of regret closing the door on the possibility. A slutty, consequences be damned, part of me definitely had wanted it. But rationally, I'd known it was just a fantasy.

"Right. Okay then. Good," Heather said quickly. She did seem relieved. But I was left feeling that I'd missed something.

"Sooo, we need hot, but dumb," I said, by way of getting the conversation anywhere else. I felt like I should be checking, again, if Heather still wanted to play this game. But she didn't seem to like it when I did that.

"Well, not dumb. Easy going. Like he'll be happy just to be there."

I grimaced. "I'm done taking virginities."

"Ew, no. Not what I meant. No drama."

"Yeah, we'll supply that." I gave Heather a cautious grin.

"It's the hoe way," she agreed. "Hey, can you pull up the class roster? I might have an idea." She slid off my bed and came over to me. Soon, she was leaning over my shoulder, weighty curls bouncing against my back, pointing at headshots on the screen. Just like normal.

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Davin Greymill wasn't dumb. Nobody at school was truly dumb. Not in the way some kids had been when I was growing up, where you wondered how they even got themselves dressed in the mornings.

But Davin was, uncomplicated. He wrestled. Probably on a full scholarship, judging by my one group project experience with ...