Nymph (standard:romance, 2997 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Sep 16 2010	Views/Reads: 3658/2290	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
(ADULT CONTENT) How will two student friends influence each other in their pursuit of pleasure?

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

her other friends: ‘I don't give a fuck who it's attached to, just give 
me the dick'. 

She always carried with her a little note-pad full of phone numbers of
men she could call if she was feeling particularly horny, men she 
ranked on a scale of one to ten. For now though, it stayed in her 
pocket, she had a class to attend in five minutes, and the library was 
fairly empty, the students that were in there were all on the 
computers, so Catherine stood, picked up her off-white faux fur bag and 
went to her printing class. 

Jason Paige was tall. 6feet 7inches. His figure was rather lithe and
bony. He never wore anything that could be deemed fashionable. Most of 
his clothes came straight from charity shops. His hair hung below his 
shoulders, and his beard was not designed on purpose, but simply rather 
had not been shaved in weeks. 

He approached Linda who was sat snivelling on a bench in a small field
behind the science and technology wing of the campus. She was slightly 
taller than Catherine, had straight dull blonde hair and never wore 
anything too suggestive. Most of the time her attire could be described 
as dowdy, but she was not unattractive. If she was to put herself up on 
a ‘rate me' site on the internet, she could easily score a seven out of 
ten, Catherine an eight. “Hey,” he said, “What's wrong?” He sat and put 
his arm around her. She rested her head against his chest. “Oh, it's 
just Catherine again”. She felt his chest exhale. “What's she been 
saying now? I've told you about her. She's a bad influence. I don't 
want her at our wedding. She's nasty. She is exactly the type of person 
who needs to be saved. I'm not sure whether she is too far gone, but 
either way, the only time I want you speaking to her is to tell her the 
way, the truth. If she doesn't accept, then it'll be time for you and 
her to separate. You know that you're the only one for me. My little 
cherub”. She looked up, and they both smiled at each other. 

Chart music pumped from the speakers, and the dancefloor was fairly full
with revellers dancing and jumping and shouting. ‘Sonic boom' was a 
student bar and disco just off the campus. It wasn't exactly the 
trendiest of places, or the cleanest. It simply became like a club on 
the weekends, and a pub the rest of the week. 

Catherine was standing near the bar with her other friends who were
similar to her in some ways, in that they liked men, but favoured 
relationships instead of sleeping around. They simply hadn't found 
their Mr Perfect yet, and kept trying. 

As Catherine and Jennifer Dale were talking, sipping their bottled
bacardis, Jennifer nodded in the direction of a group of three youths. 
“Don't turn round” she said, “but one of those lads keeps looking at 
you” “Is he nice?” “Not really. A bit geeky. Oh here they go, going to 
the dancefloor. Trying to impress the gals”. The trio started to dance 
awkwardly, all elbows and nodding heads and angled feet. Catherine 
looked over. “Which one?” she asked. It was answered for her by one of 
them smiling across, then looking away. It was clear that he was the 
one trying the hardest to dance, similar to a bird of paradise mating 
ritual, hoping the female would be impressed enough have his babies. 

In an act of bravery, spurred on by his friends, he broke away and
danced closer to Catherine. “Here comes loverboy, I'll see you later” 
said Jennifer, turning and walking away with the others. Catherine 
turned to face him, and the youth danced and jived his way across, 
making his intentions perfectly clear, his wide grinning face tinged 
red with embarrassment. It seemed as though this was his first attempt 
at chatting-up, and the fact that he didn't want to be seen as a 
failure in front of his friends made him say: “What's that you're 
drinking?” He was smaller than Catherine, and looked to be younger by 
maybe two years. He wore a stud in one ear, and had short curly gelled 
back hair. 

Catherine smiled at him. “It doesn't matter what I'm drinking,” she
said. “Let's just go back to my place and shag”. The youth's face 
became surprised. It was clear he wasn't expecting that. He looked back 
at his friends as if to say: ‘What do I do now?' but they were dancing 
away, hidden by other revellers. Catherine grabbed his hand and led him 
out of the club, fear surging through him more so than that which he 
felt in approaching her. 

Catherine never went in for chatting up. She knew it was like going on a
date, but was a faster method of ‘getting to know you'. All chatting up 
was, was an interrogation, a sizing-up. A mini interview before the 
inevitable reason behind it in the first place. The sex. She never 
understood why men bothered to ask questions. It was clear from their 
very approach that they wanted sex. ‘What's your name?' ‘So what do you 
do?' and other sizing-up questions meant nothing to her. If the woman 
being chatted up was to say: ‘Yes I like you very much. I want to get 
to know you and spend a lot of time with you, but I never, ever want 
sex', then all the woman would see was a cloud of dust as the man 
vanished. Chatting up to Catherine was simply a declaration of saying 
they wanted sex. Questions seemed irrelevant. She wished men would come 
up to her and simply say: ‘Hi, fancy a shag?' and forget the 
formalities. That part could be done later, or the morning after. 

In her small bedsit that passed for student accommodation, Timothy Ryan
sat drinking a glass of lemonade. Catherine sat opposite. Between them 
was a threadbare cottage flatweave rug that has had many a student walk 
on it. Silence filled the room, except when Timothy sipped his drink. 
She had decided to see if there was any type of masculinity in him. 
Would he make any sort of moves? Would he continue from his confident 
approach at the bar? Or was it all a big act to try and impress her? 
Now that he was where he intended to be by trying to chat her up, she 
wondered if he had it in him to follow it through. It seemed clear that 
while Timothy thought he was a macho-stud in his mind, he couldn't 
prove it in reality. Too much bedroom martial arts and mirror bicep 
flexing. When it came to performance out in the real world, he was in 
the lower leagues. 

Catherine could see it in his face that he was terrified, and she
guessed that if she didn't do anything then they would be sat here all 
night, so she simply opened her legs, even though she was wearing 
jeans. Timothy's eyes strayed to her crotch and he grew even more 
scarlet. She then stood up and slowly made her way across, one hand 
squeezing her left breast. “Ok big boy,” she said, “Let see whatcha 
got”.  She then sat on his  left thigh, over his crotch, swinging her 
right leg over the arm of the chair and grinding herself into him in a 
circular motion, all the time smiling at him. She put her hand under 
her shirt to fondle the flesh of her breast. “So you wanna fuck me” she 
said as a statement. His face was petrified, even though he tried to 
hide it. She slid off him onto her knees and parted his thighs, then 
began to undo his belt and unzip his bootcut trousers. He gave an 
audible intake of breath as she slid her hand inside and found his 
genitals. She was quickly reminded of two peas and an acorn, and knew 
then that sex with this youth would be an ordeal rather than a 
pleasure. “I'm gonna be late,” he said, rather loudly. “Dad'll wonder 
where I am”. Catherine sat back. Timothy stood up, and without 
bothering to fix his trousers headed for the exit. “Thanks for the 
drink” he said, and left, the door clicking closed behind him. “Poor 
thing” she said. The next time he sees his friends, they'll ask how it 
went, and she knew pretty much what he would say: ‘I well had ‘er'. 
‘She was begging for it, screaming'. ‘We did it six times' ‘She 
couldn't get enough of me'. She could also imagine the faces of his 
friends, all wide-eyed and nodding as he relayed what he wanted them to 
believe, and they would believe him one hundred percent, rising their 
esteem of him. 

Catherine sighed, sat on the armchair, found the television remote
control, switched it on, and watched ‘Place your roulette bet' on a 
freeview channel for half an hour before falling asleep. 

“Seriously Cath, you need to settle down, find yourself a good man, like
I have” said Linda. They were both sat in the lecture theatre, with 
several others who had got there early. It was five minutes before it 
was due to start. They were sat next near the back. “There are so many 
cocks out there, Lind, and only one me. So no, I can't settle down” “Do 
you know what love is?” “I think you know what I love, and I still 
can't believe your going for the no sex before marriage thing”. “Is 
there no-one? No-one at all that you could settle down with?”. 
Catherine thought about it for a few moments, one foot up on the back 
of the empty seat in front. “Well, if there was one, I suppose it was 
this guy I got off with in Blackpool two years ago. Nice build, short 
hair, made me laugh, good sex, fairly big dick. If there was one, I 
suppose I would choose him”. “You see,” said Linda, “You are capable of 
love”. The lecturer then walked in. 

Linda and Jason hugged on the pavement outside the music wing of the
campus where they had agreed to meet earlier. There was a nearby café 
and they both ordered herbal tea. “You said you had something to tell 
me” said Linda. Jason could barely contain his excitement. “Yes,” he 
said. “I've decided become a full devotee, and I want you to join me. 
It means giving up everything, and I mean everything to follow my 
beliefs. I'm going to get myself castrated, so I'll have no 
temptations. It will be pure devotion. I will be a high priest, and you 
will be my bride”. “Castrated” she said. “Does that mean we can't have 
kids?” “Children?” he said, surprised. “We cannot afford such 
distractions, so I would like you to undergo a procedure that you can't 
get at the hospital, but a few priests I know can carry it out. If you 
did it, you would make me so proud. I want you get yourself, well, sewn 
up, if you know what I mean. There'll be no temptation for either of 
us”. “So let me get this right” she said. “You're going to devote 
yourself to worshipping God. You're going to get yourself castrated, 
and you basically want me to do the same, and live with you as your 
wife”. He nodded, smiling. Linda simply took a sip of her tea. “I 
wasn't sure high priests could marry,” she said. “Any member of the 
knights of the holy kingdom can marry. It's not that restrictive. What 
do you say? Will you do it? Get the operation and be my wife?”. She 
drank the rest of her tea, placed the cup on the saucer, then smiled at 
Jason, but there was nothing behind it. “You can go and fuck yourself” 
she said, standing up and walking away. 

Catherine was in her bedsit, halfway through getting ready to go out
with her friends ‘on the pull' when there was a loud banging on the 
door. “Catherine,” came a voice, “Open the door”. She frowned, slipped 
on a pink bathrobe, and walked through, opening the door. Linda stood 
there in tears. She walked in. “Linda what's wrong?” she said, closing 
the door. “It's Jason,” she said. Catherine nodded to herself, not 
surprised in the slightest. 

“...so I told him to go and fuck himself” Linda said, sat next to
Catherine on the bed. “Besides,” she continued, “I think I've been in 
denial about something. I mean I like men and all that, but there's 
something I've been wanting to do”. She placed her hand on Catherine's 
thigh. They both smiled at each other. Catherine responded eagerly, 
their lips meeting, their tongues writhing together, their hands 
exploring each other. 


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