Then and Now - Wendy Time

Back to college, What I guess you could call my “Mandy Phase”.

When last we left our hero was passed out drunk against a tree with a swollen knee and bleeding from a gash on his hand. (That’s me.)

I woke up to voices. I recognized one. My eye lids felt heavy so I kept them closed while I listened.

“Damn! What happened to him?” (Some laughter.)

“Oh shit! I know him! That’s Freddy from my PolySci class!”

“White boy’s fuckin’ duh-runk!”

I felt a hand on my chin, straightening my head. Light slap on the cheek. And then another, slightly harder this time. I opened my eyes. A face, the color of Hershey’s Special Dark bar was close to mine. His mouth moving. I could smell his breath.

“Hey, Man,” he said, “you okay?”

“Yeah… Just a lil drunk…” God, what had he been eating? A tuna-shit sandwich? My stomach turned.

The other guy said something, “What the fuck happened to you?”

I answered as I pulled myself to my feet, trying to seem okay. “Fucking Mandy happened.” They both laughed as struggled to get up. One of them helped me.

“Women will get you, every time.” I’m not sure who said it but one of them did.

I looked at the guy holding me up. The guy with bad breath. I knew him. “Chris, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me” he said, “You’re Fred, right? Tau Kappa Jew, right?”

Tau Kappa Jew. You might remember I mentioned my frat had been founded by a bunch of Jews and that was our nickname. And that it was very rare for anyone to call one of us that to our faces. Leave it to a black guy to buck social convention and not worry about offending someone to their face though. Screw it, if they could, I could.

I nodded. I knew Chris was a new Sigma, not sure about the other guy. “You guys both Sigma Spooks?” I asked.

They looked at each other and for a second I thought I’d fucked up. Badly. Very badly. There were two of them and I was in no condition to defend myself. Hell, I was in no condition to stand. 

And then they just started laughing.

Chris pointed at his friend. “You’re funny,” he said to me and then pointed at his friend. “That’s Michael, he’s gonna’ help me get your ass back to your room, right Mikey?”

Michael was looking past us, to the back of the lot. Instead of answering Chris, he asked me, “That got anything to do with you?”

I looked back. Two campus security cars were parked near the maintenance building and a County Cop was pulling up. Fuck. “I guess maybe. Possibly. Probably. Yeah, most likely” I answered.

Michael looked at Chris. “You are the dumbest negro I know if you think I’m gonna’ walk into a dorm carrying a drunk, beat up white boy that the Campus Keystones are looking for.”

Chris agreed. “Yeah, not a good idea. We can’t just leave him here though.” (Oh God. Yet another wiff of his breath. My stomach turned again.)

“Nah, that wouldn’t be cool. We can dump him at the Jew house,” Michael suggested, “His boys can take care of him. Put him in the back seat. You gonna’ be ok? Don’t be throwing up in my car.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine, I’m okay,” I said. “Just open a window so I can get some air…”

And so I was dumped into the back of a beat up, old Ford Crown Vic. The ride was short. Michael and Chris helped me out of the car. A few brothers in the house noticed us and started to come out to see what was going on. Tom, our 6’4″ Sargent-At-Arms and a future Marine, headed toward us with a scowl and clenched fists. His intentions couldn’t have been more obvious if he was carrying a spiked club. (He would not have been much more dangerous, either.) A number of my Brothers followed in his wake. (Yes, Sargent-At-Arms is a real thing in many Fraternities and Tom took it seriously.)

Chris looked at me. “Yo Man!” he said, “Call off your boys!” There was fear in his voice.

I looked at the mob approaching. Even drunk I realized this could get ugly. I held up a hand. “It’s cool, Tom. These guys are Sigma Spoooo…, er, Sigmas. I got a little drunk, fucked up my knee, they’re just giving me a ride is all.”

Tom stopped and looked at me. He titled his head sideways to match the tilt of mine. He exhaled. He relaxed. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he said to me. Then he looked at the guys carrying me. “Thanks,” he said, “we got it from here. We owe you one.”

I got handed off to a couple of pledges.

Chris was not a big guy by any standards. He was average height, a little on the skinny side, wore glasses and was not really athletically inclined. He was from a middle-class, suburban family and was actually kind of soft. He was trying the whole “Malcom-X, Nation of Islam” look but looked more like a math nerd or a barber shop quartet. He was still looking nervously at Tom. “He, um, might be in a little trouble with, uh, Campus Five-Oh,” he said.

Tom squinted at Chris. “What kind of trouble?”

Michael pipped up. “Don’t know, don’t care,” his voice was steady. He was bigger, almost as big as Tom, and had a harder life than Chris. It wasn’t as easy to intimidate him. Michael didn’t have to wear tough guy outfits, he was tough and looked it all on his own. He also happened to be the Sigma’s Sargent-At-Arms. He and Tom locked eyes,

Chris pipped up again. “Something happened at the, um, Maintenance Shed over in, uh, Siberia. N-not sure what. Might, um, might have involved a girl. Your boy, er, I mean, um, your man, ah, I guess, was part of it.”

Tom looked at me. “That right?” I think he was trying to look me in the eye but it was hard for me to focus so I’m not sure.

“I guess maybe. Possibly. Probably. Yeah, most likely.”

Tom looked at the guys holding me up. “Get dumbass here inside before a cop drives by and sees him.” Then he looked back at Michael and Chris. 

“You guys wanna’ come in for a drink or something?” It was a sincere invitation. It was also ground breaking. No Sigma had ever been invited into the Tau Kappa House and vice versa. It was kind of a big deal. Chris and Michael glanced at each other before following Tom inside. 

I got dumped on a couch and a bag of ice tossed over my knee. I passed out listening to Tom and Chris and Michael and others exchange and laugh at stories of women, sex, fights and drunken stupidity (often worse than mine). 

Apparently while I was out someone bandaged up my arm. I probably should have had stitches; to this day I still have a scar from it.

I woke up the next day with a pounding head. Tom handed me a cup of coffee, a bottle of Gatorade and some aspirin before giving me the news. The day before someone had robbed the maintenance building, stealing $100 in petty cash before vandalizing it. Campus police had seen a guy passed out against a tree near the parking lot but, since they waited for the County Cops, by the time they went back he was gone.

Tom looked at me seriously. “That was you?”

“The vandalism, I guess,” I said, “I dunno. I got a little drunk. Might have gotten sick in there. Maybe pissed in the sink? I dunno. After I left I realized I left something inside I had to go back for. Had to break a window to get back in. Oh, and I think I broke a bottle of vodka in there. Half empty. Mostly empty.”

He nodded, a pensive look on his face. “And the money?”

I shook my head, which was a mistake. “I don’t know anything about that. I didn’t take it.”

“What were you doing in there?”

“Fucking,” I said. And then, for some reason, I added, “a girl.”

Tom smiled. “Yeah, you hope it was a girl! You were pretty wasted. Sure it wasn’t Chris?! Kinda get a fag vibe off him and he seemed sweet for you!” His laugh was loud and booming and hurt my head.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Didn’t really get drunk until after.”

“If you say so. So, uh, can I assume your girl was not Wendy?”

I nodded once. Even that hurt. “Yeah, not Wendy.”

Tom punched my shoulder. Normally that would have been a fun, playful tap. In my present condition it was a world of pain.

“Want to tell me who it was?” he asked with a slight smile.

I gritted my teeth and shook my head very slowly. “Not really. She was a mistake.”

“Okay,” Tom got up and headed back to the kitchen, still talking as he went. “You know mistake girl probably took the money, right? Not that it matters. It doesn’t look like the cops have any idea who it was, so you’re in the clear. You really owe your buddies from Sigma. If they hadn’t got you out of there before the cops came looking, you’d be in deep shit. Those guys are okay. Even Chris.”

I didn’t nod, I just sipped Gatorade while the coffee cooled. Yeah, I owed them.

I decided to hang out at the Frat House for the weekend. The running joke was that I was “on the lam”. One of our pledges got dispatched to my dorm room to get me clean clothes. 

Wendy stopped by on Sunday looking for me. When she asked what happened, Tom explained that I’d gotten drunk and fell down the back stairs, breaking a glass in my hand when I fell. He was quick with the story and it sounded plausible, yet I think she knew there was more to it. She took me back to her place, gimping the whole way.

I wondered briefly why my girlfriend hadn’t come looking for me sooner; we hadn’t seen each other since Wednesday. I didn’t ask. Not that I didn’t want to ask, I did, I just didn’t want her to ask more about what happened to me. Not talking was the better option, I thought.

I fell onto her bed when I got there. The stairs up to her room had been torture. She got me a bag of frozen peas and a couple Advil for my knee. I took off my pants so I could put the peas right on the knee. She knelt down and looked at it. The swelling had gone down but the bruise actually looked worse.

“Wow,” she said, touching it gently, “that does look bad. You did it Friday?”

“Thursday,” I said. “It’s better, actually. Doesn’t hurt anywhere near as bad. Just really ugly.”

“Wow,” she said again. “So that’s what you guys were hiding, a pre-weekend party at the House. Were pledges there? Of course they were. You know all that’s frowned on by the IGC.”

Ah, the IGC. The Intergreek Council. One of Wendy’s many resume building, extra-curricular activities. 

I shifted a little. “Yeah, well, boys will be boys.”

“I suppose so. Speaking of which,” she said, touching the bump in my boxers, “when did you climax last?”

That was pretty forward for Wendy. “Well,” I said, “I mean we were together on Monday, so…”

She was still on her knees in front of me. She moved her hand from my swollen knee to my not yet swollen cock. “Yeah,” she said, “but it’s not like you don’t ever masturbate when I’m not around, right? After all, ‘boys will be boys’, right?”

Wow, that was bold for Wendy. We never talked about things like masturbation. “I guess, um, Thursday afternoon,” I lied. Well technically it wasn’t really a lie, the last time I came was on Thursday and I did masturbate, I just wasn’t alone.

She slid a hand up my boxers and took my soft dick in her hand. “So you probably need to, right? Up for a little oral, maybe?”

WOW, very bold. I smiled. My dick started to firm up in her hand. “I wouldn’t say no.”

I slid to the edge of the bed and she pulled my boxers off. Still kneeling in front of me, she took off her shirt and bra to expose her tits. They were generous C cups and, at age 20, still very firm. Her older, married sister (biological, not sorority) had lovely D cups with a slight sag that I had seen twice. (“Accidents” that happened when I was visiting her family. That’s a whole other story.) Wendy was, from what I could tell, following in her sister’s footsteps.

She caressed my balls in her hands and kissed and licked them. She never did that before! She licked my dick, opened her mouth and lowered her head onto me. I braced for teeth on skin.

It didn’t happen. She kept her jaw loose and just her lips on my cock. She bounced her head up and down. She took my hand and put it on the back of her head, again something she’d never done before. I gripped her blond hair tightly and she just uttered, “mmm-humm” and kept going.

She had one hand on my balls, the other just ahead of her lips on my dick. 

I leaned forward and reached down to pinch nipple with my free hand. She stopped and made a sound, I couldn’t tell if it was an “ohh” or an “ow”. I was afraid I’d ruined it. I let go and she started bobbing her head again. I pinched again. This time when she stopped it was definitely an “oh”. I let go and she started moving again.

I pinched again and this time when she stopped I didn’t let go of her nipple. Instead I used her hair like a handle to make her start moving her head again. She didn’t resist, she followed my lead, letting me keep time. I rolled her nipple between my fingers.

Uh-Oh. I hadn’t cum in days and this was by far the best blowjob she’d ever given. And, honestly, back then my control and endurance wasn’t the best.

I let go of her hair and pushed her head back. “Stop-stop-stop-stop,” I said, “I’m gonna’ cu.., er, climax.”

She lifted her mouth off me but kept stroking me with her hand. “It’s okay,” she said, “you can… cum… in my mouth. I don’t mind. If you want to, that is.”

I looked at her. Did she just say I could CUM, not climax, but CUM? And IN HER MOUTH? This was usually the point I got given a washcloth to cum in and finished with a handjob! Who was she and what had she done with the real Wendy? 

Fuck it, I didn’t care what she did with the real Wendy if these were the blowjobs the new Wendy gave!

All I said was, “Okay” and she smiled, wrapped her lips around my dick and started bobbing her head again.

She was gently touching my balls with her left hand as she sucked my cock. Her right hand was wrapped around my shaft just ahead of her lips. I was so close… I just wanted to hold back and enjoy this a little longer…

She a finger pressed the patch of skin between my balls and my asshole, just barely touching the rim…

I wasn’t ready for that.

I grabbed her head with both hands and pushed my hips upwards and the first shot of cum went off in her mouth. She pulled back but only far enough to keep from gagging. My balls convulsed, filling her mouth with my sperm.

It was awesome. The best blow job I had since, well, since Mandy gave me the last blowjob I had on Thursday.

I let go of her and leaned back as the pumping lost intensity. Un-moving she kept her lips wrapped around my shaft until even the slightest twitches of my balls were done.

She lifted her head, sucking the last of my cum out as she removed herself from me. Her mouth was closed. She looked me in the eye. She hesitated for just a couple seconds and swallowed my cum. The tip of her tongue slipped out of her mouth and around her lips, catching any stray sperm.

One of my Fraternity Brothers had a theory he was fond of. If your girlfriend suddenly gets better at sex, or suddenly wants to try new and kinky things, or suddenly starts using new dirty slang, it’s a warning sign that she’s cheating. You should, he advised, dump her immediately. I used to laugh at him and tell him that was stupid. 

By my count, Wendy had just exhibited all three warning signs. Maybe not all that kinky. Not for most people, anyway. Very kinky for Wendy.

There was no way Wendy got that much better at sucking dick in days since our last hookup. No way she suddenly decided all on her own to let me cum in her mouth after over a year of telling me how gross that it. No way she suddenly went from the term “climax” to the “low class” term of “cum”. No way unless some guy who was just out to use her for sex and fuck her like a slut taught her these things.

Right then I knew my Brother was right. Just the about the cheating part, not the dumping part.

I made a note to find that guy and thank him. And ask him what else he could teach her.

Wendy was still kneeling, hands on her knees, looking at me. “Was that okay?” she asked nervously.

“That was amazing,” I answered, trying to catch my breath. She smiled. “Where… I mean… how… how did you learn to do that?” 

She stopped smiling. Probably not a question I should have asked at that moment. It just sort of slipped out. 

“I just, uh, just, I, uh, I read, read some things. In Cosmo. And-and-and, you know, I missed you.” She sounded like a kid that just got caught stealing a cookie trying to talk her way out of it.

Remember when I tried to convince Mandy I’d never tasted another guys cum and she just knew I was lying? That was how I felt with Wendy at that moment. 

“Cosmo, huh. Wow. I have to get you a subscription. You should read more!” I suppose I could have called her on it, like Mandy did with me, but why ruin a good thing? At least I knew why she hadn’t come looking for me sooner; she’d been busy.

Wendy’s smile returned, a little broader this time. She was still kneeling in front of me, her face upturned to look at mine. She still had her hands on her knees, still had her nice, perky tits exposed. It was unlike her. It was… subservient. 

I stood up in front of her, reached down, took her hands and helped her to her feet. I leaned in to kiss her. She put a hand up and stopped me.

“Ew, gross,” she said, “after what I just did?”

“Oh… damn… I didn’t… I… I wasn’t even thinking.” Well, okay, she was still Wendy.

Still smiling she pulled on her shirt but not her bra. Pointy nipples were obvious through the fabric. “I’ll brush my teeth,” she said, “and wash my face. And then we can make out.” With that she skipped off to the bathroom, closing the bedroom door behind her.

I let out a breath and laid back down on the bed. I suddenly realized my knee felt a hell of a lot better. “Seriously,” I thought, “I have to find the guy who taught her to do that and thank him.”