I asked out my athletic study partner, but she shot me down, sort of [M20/F20] [sexual favors] [oral sex] [regular sex]

"I think I'm about all studied out for the day," I say, then swallow and steel myself. The others have taken off already, it's just me and Tara, this is my chance. "So, uh, I dunno if you're hungry but you wanna go get something to eat? There's this vegetarian place downtown that's open real late and we could–"

But I can tell that the answer is no, and not just about being hungry. In her face it's there, she doesn't want to spend more time with me in any capacity. It's the way she's wincing, avoiding looking at me. I'm already deflating when she starts, "I don't know if that's…"

I shrug, "It's cool." I'm not looking at her either. It's my attempt at being nonchalant. As if I didn't really care. I push my laptop into my bag, shove the papers back into their spot. The zipper catches a corner of a sheet. I yank and force it closed. "So I'll catch you in class tomorrow. Later." And I don't linger, leaving the commons study room behind.

"Have a good night, Ian," Tara calls after me, a little bit of apology in her tone. Apology yeah, but mostly relief. Relief I suppose that I didn't blow up, melt down, make things even more awkward. Or maybe just relief that she doesn't have to spend any more time around me.

I exit the tall glass doors of the campus center and stalk off through the empty night, trapped with only my own thoughts for company. Way to mis-read the situation, Ian. Tara was just being friendly, her bright smile and sparkling green eyes meant only to be genial, her lingering late only because of her dedication to her academics. I should've known better than to get my hopes up with a hot girl like her, sexy platinum blond hair and field hockey body all athletic and fit and toned. Girl like her could take a guy like me and chew me up and spit me out. Bounce me off the ground like dribbling a basketball and then dropkick me away. Why did I even think that anything was possibly there? And so on and so forth into the evening, you get the point. I am truly magnificent at self-pity and there's no point in writing it all down.

And the next day in class I keep myself polite but distant, determined to at bare minimum embarrass myself no further. Tara does the same, thank fuck. And this really should be the end of the story.

Except it's not.

Tara returns into my life a few days later, Saturday morning. I am very busy sleeping off a hangover when my phone does the most rude thing and buzzes with an incoming phone call. I would ignore this vulgarity and relapse into my princely slumber except I spy my phone filling its screen with a picture of the caller and what the screen is filled with is Tara looking cute as fuck. I cannot fathom why it would do this and despite my advice to my brain to forget about it and resume the much-needed sleep, my mind starts running and I am apparently and unfortunately awake.

I fumble my hand out to my nightstand, swipe to answer. "Uh, hello?" It's probably a butt dial.

And I'm about to hang up when Tara's voice filters through the tinny speaker. "Oh good, I didn't know if you'd pick up. Listen, Ian, I gotta ask you something."

"Is it an emergency?"

"What? No, it's… I need a favor."

I push my head up from the pillow and blink some of the crusties from my eye. "A favor."

"Yeah, but like, it's urgent. How soon can you get here?"

I yawn. "Where's ‘here'?"

"Sorry. My place. I live over on Third."

I sit up, woken up, brain finally firing up, thought processes catching up, and I say, "Look, Tara, you're cool and all but I don't really think we're in the ‘doing each other favors' territory, you know what I mean? I'm sorry if I made things awkward the other night. I misread the situation. And so like, we've got that class together, and the study group whatever, and I'm not going to make things weird but once we're done with those you won't have to bother with me again, you know what I mean? We don't need to complicate things at this stage by doing each other favors. Plus I was up real late last night, so if you don't mind…"

"Get over yourself, Ian," she says, not in an unfriendly way, just matter-of-fact, "So I didn't want to go out to dinner with you. Big deal. It's nothing personal, I don't date anyone, I'm too busy for all that. You say you don't want to make things weird but that's exactly what you're doing by suddenly treating me different. You didn't offend me by asking. You weren't an ass about it. You were even kinda cute. You should hear the shit some guys say to me. But that's not the point. So stop acting like the weirdo you claim you're not and be a good friend and helpful classmate."

This is too early in the morning for a dressing down, to have my psyche deconstructed and analyzed. I squeeze my eyes closed and rub my forehead. "What is it you even need, anyway? It better not be moving. I'm not going to help you carry furniture. Get your buff field hockey friends to do that for you."

Tara laughs. "I'm not moving. No, I've got a game this afternoon. I need your help getting ready."

"My help," I repeat, "Getting ready?"

"Yeah, for part of my warm-up routine."

I'm frowning at the phone. "Could you please be more vague? I almost have the beginnings of idea of what it is you're asking, which is too much information, clearly."

"Dammit, Ian, don't be an ass. It's embarrassing to ask."

"Ask it anyway."

"I need sex." She says it simply.

"Sex." I repeat it simply.

"Don't be weird about it."

"Who's being weird?"

"I used to have this guy, Rocky," she starts babbling, "Super fit, nice looking, right? He would come by when I wanted, leave me feeling so… so, well, he was good at… things. But he's stopped texting me back. I think he got a girlfriend or something. Anyway the last two games I played, no sex first, I was so tense, so high-strung. I played like crap. Coach even asked me what was up. But of course I couldn't tell her, thought I'd just have to get used to it."

"And then I asked you out…"

"Yes, exactly!" she says, "You were sweet about it, but I don't have time to date anyone, no offense Ian, but that includes you. And this morning I'm stretching myself out and starting to prep and thinking about how I can relax myself and I was thinking… well, I figured, since you asked me out, it means you're probably into me and not with anyone and maybe you could…"

I pick up where she leaves off, "Maybe I could come over and have sex with you. Don't you think that it might backfire? That I might, since I did ask you out and all for presumably more reasons than you simply being hot, catch feelings?"

"Ian, guys fuck without feeling anything all the time. Are you going to do this or not? I don't have all morning."

Is this a bad idea? Obviously. "Text me your address."

And then I'm at her door, hair still wet from the thirty seconds I spent showering off, mouth still minty from the toothpaste I'd rubbed on. Knocking on the old door with the drab green paint flaking away, I feel a little ridiculous showing up in the sweatpants and t-shirt I slept in.

Tara doesn't mind. "You came," she grins at me, bottom lip tucked into her teeth. Ushering me in to the rickety Victorian, she sweeps me past the living spaces with their evidence of roommates and classwork and casual horticulture and other hobbies and into what proves to be her private bedroom. The lock thunks solidly when she closes the door.

"You look great," I say.

She shrugs. But she really does, even dressed down with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and tits wrapped in a dark gray sports bra and legs powerful in tight black workout pants. And her ass… oh my god, her ass. Fit into her pants like it was poured in, she's so toned, so tight, so strong — she could crack open walnuts with that thing.

"You're staring," she says, "Don't be weird." But she's grinning as she says it.

"You're really hot."

"You know how to not cum until I tell you, right?"

I blink. "Uh, sure." Let's pretend that's true.

I'm sitting on her bed, a simple affair in the middle of the room, the pink blanket arranged neatly and tucked in. A pile of field hockey and other random sports equipment is set between her dresser and the corner of the wall, photos of her team are pinned up near her mirror, a collection of small potted plants and succulents adorn the window sill. Further signs of her life fill the space, but they're not why I'm here. "So, um, what do we do now? What do you like?"

"Take off your clothes, Ian. Just…" she looks down at me and tilts her head to the side, deciding something, "Follow my lead. I'll take charge."

I swallow. "Take charge? What does that mean?"

She shoves me backward, pushing me down onto her mattress before climbing on top of me, perching that perfect ass of hers right on my belly and pinning my shoulders down with her iron grip. Face above mine as she leers down at me, her pupils dilate, her whites gleam. "You're about to find out."

My breath shakes. "Oh."

Her right hand releases my shoulder only to slide under the hem of my sweats and grab my balls. Her thumb and forefinger make a ring around their base, pulling them tight. "You ready to give me what I need?"

"Yes," I whimper.

She kisses me roughly and suddenly, shoving her tongue into my mouth while her hand moves to my shaft, yanking me stiff. It doesn't take much. Her grip is strong and my cock is willing.

"Good." She wiggles my erection side to side. "You're thicker than I thought."

I tear my clothes off as I watch her peel her pants down. Her pussy is, of course, shaved bare and taut as a coiled spring. Laying back on her bed, I stare at her with eyes wide and jaw slack.

"Now you're going to warm me up a little," she says, surveying my naked self.

And just like that I'm given a face full of ass. She sits on my head, pressing her pussy against my mouth. She's sweet like apples as I lap at her, my tongue already at her beck and call, subservient to her needs. And as Tara lays down on top of me, I feel her hands return to my cock and balls and wrench them to her bidding. I'd yelp if my mouth wasn't busy eating pussy, if my hands weren't full of her ass cheeks. But then I feel the unmistakable silken warmth of lips closing around my dick.

This isn't so difficult, I reckon, feeling my shaft grow slick in Tara's mouth while her pussy smears its arousal down my lips and chin. A man could get used to being used this way.

And just when it starts to get good — I mean, really good and sloppy and wet — the warmth on my shaft disappears. My dick sways unsupported. I whimper.

"Oh, fuck," she announces. Rolling off me, she goes to her dresser and I stare at her ass in awe. It's so perfect, so tight. And when she returns with a condom, ripping it open and rolling it down my girth, she glares up at me so intensely. "Ready to make yourself useful?"

"Uh-huh," I nod meekly.

Tara, green eyes sweeping up me like I'm a piece of meat, squats over my hips and grabs my erection and holds it in place as she lowers herself. I've got tunnel vision on that taut little pussy of hers, the bare and swollen pink lips the focus of my entire world. And even as she takes me inside her with as much circumstance as if she's doing reps in the gym, I'm the one groaning in pleasure. With a grunt, she pumps herself onto my cock, slamming down and shoving me the tight hot bliss of her sex. I'm her tool, her sex toy. As her pussy spreads wide around my shaft, I reach down to rub her clit. She likes, moaning as I massage her. With her skin growing flush and clammy she turns me into an object of her own carnal needs, making it clear that any pleasure of my own is merely a byproduct of hers. She pistons herself on my erection, sweat trickling down her belly and loose strands of hair sticking to her forehead and panting and sucking down air at this sex-as-a-workout.

I reach for her tits, grabbing them through her sports bra, squeezing them and feeling their size. Tara ignores this, pinning me to her bed with her hips, fucking away up and down and up and down on my cock with the steadiness of a metronome. She impales herself on me over and over again, tireless and relentless in her movements, my shaft in service of her pussy's desires.

I flash back to earlier, when she asked how long I could last. I didn't understand then that she meant it so literally, that I'd have no chance to catch my breath and pause mid-fucking. My mind starts to swim.

"No!" she barks, grabbing my chin, stopping my head from rolling, "Stay with me, Ian."

I gasp and pull a breath, the only sound otherwise the repeated wet sucking of our sex, Tara penetrating herself down to my hilt over and over again. Her heat slickens my shaft and drips down my balls. Tara is employing my cock, wielding it like a sex toy. She grunts and moans her enjoyment and I wonder if she wouldn't be better serviced by a dildo. Surely it could fuck her with no end, shove into her until she's witless and delirious more than any man ever could.

But Tara certainly seems to be enjoying, her ponytail splaying disheveled, her shimmery platinum hair starting to cascade down her shoulders, her tits wrapped in that tight sports bra bouncing, her narrow little waist twisting and heaving. "Fuck yes," she growls through gritted teeth, "You've almost got me there."

And then she springs herself down on me, grabbing my wrists and pinching them together over my head while pressing her mouth to mine, kissing me with a ferocity that leaves me reeling. Her tongue dominates my mouth, her lips my face. I do my best to follow along, kiss her back, but I'm fledgling.

Just as sudden as it began, she tenses and pulls her head back, eyes losing focus as she shudders and clenches her teeth. "Holy…" she gasps, "…fuck!" Her free hand shoots down my body and closes down around my balls, clamping them tight in her iron grip as her hips buck into me wildly.

Even as I fear for my nuts, it's powerfully erotic watching her cum, making her cum, and I don't know whether from pleasure or panic but the groans burst from me unbidden as my cock tenses and I'm cumming along with her. I jerk stiff and pump into the condom, straining and struggling against her overpowering strength.

But she just laughs and rolls off me, leaving us both staring at that condom filled with my pearly white seed. "Goddam," she chuckles, pulling it off me, "Look at that. You liked it."

I'm weak and half delirious, but I nod and say, "Yes."

"Then you won't mind licking me some more."

And I'm not really given a choice, as she once again sits on my face, pressing her musky pussy against my mouth. Mind altered by the post-orgasmic fever, certain things recede into the mists while others come into sharp focus. Like the exact bitter flavor of her arousal tinged with my sweat, the way it oozes down my chin, the way her breathing quickens into the cutest little moans as she grinds her clit against my lip.

I grab her waist and hold her in place as she pinches my head between her thighs, and I eat her towards a slow and steady second orgasm. I've never liked doing things only halfway, and as long as I'm her sextoy, I should make myself the best sextoy I can be. I suppress any misgivings and drag my tongue everywhere she likes it, everywhere that makes her moan the most, push some fingers up inside her. She loves it, thrusting her hips into my face, throwing her head back and tits out.

And then she's cumming on me, a fresh coat of heat seeps down and dampens my cheeks as her groans lift in timbre and intensity, her thighs squeeze me in tight.

When she rolls into a puddle at my side she holds me not without affection despite all her earlier claims otherwise. But my cock is once again raging with erection, and I lean forward to kiss her while reaching down to start jerking myself off.

"You want some help with that?" Tara coos.

I nod, eyes wide.

And then she crawls down her bed and pushes my legs apart until she's sucked my nuts into her mouth. She takes my dick from me, stroking me as she licks my sac, curling her velvet tongue up the sensitive skin of my balls. I am rock hard in her fist, and she is merciless in her attention. She gets me off like she means it, those emerald eyes locked on mine, and I don't think I've ever cum as hard as when I feel my balls tighten in her mouth and my dick spray my seed out all over my belly.

That afternoon, I'm down at the field cheering Tara on, watching her play. She is aggressive and quick and on point, and she looks fucking fantastic on the field. I wait for her outside the locker room after the game.

"Ian," she frowns, "What's up?" She's in a thin team hoodie and booty shorts, her skin still flush from the match.

"Tara," I grin, coming up beside her, "I need a favor."

It takes her a moment to understand, although the hand I rest on her ass probably helps. She's so cute she actually blushes. I kiss her.