Chapter 4: The Breakup

-- MARCH 2004, SOPHOMORE YEAR --

“Hngh, hngh, hngh...” I grunted with every thrust as I pumped my dick in and out of Dawn’s sweet snatch. The absolutely gorgeous busty blonde beauty was bent over before me, feet on the floor but face-down across the hotel room bed as I slow-dicked her wet box with my big dick.

“Ngh, ngh, ngh...” she whimpered beneath me, taking every last inch over and over again.

“Hngh-hngh-hngh...” I grunted a little faster as I sped up, gripping her hips tighter as I really started to pound my pelvis off her posterior. I could imagine her splayed out in front of me, sunny-blonde hair spread out across the mattress, five-feet nine-inches of exquisite beauty sharing her Sex Goddess pleasure with me.

“Fuuuuck meeeee...” Robin crooned, my girlfriend’s voice shaking me out of my fantasy. I opened my eyes, stared down at her compact asscheeks split open wide enough for me to see her starfish sphincter between them because I was holding them open in my hands. Below my pistoning prick, I saw her nimble fingers desperately working her own clit, rubbing herself to orgasm.

At least Robin could orgasm now with my cock in her. Fucking Ben that night before winter break had unlocked that part of her at least. True, she always had to finger her own clit to get there, but at least she could get there. I didn’t feel so bad about getting my selfish pleasure knowing I could at least hold on until she got herself off.

The fantasizing about Dawn part? Well, that I did feel bad about. I mean, we both knew at this point that we occasionally fantasized about other people. By now we’d admitted that much to each other at least, although I wondered just how “occasional” it really was for her (and I knew for sure it wasn’t really just “occasional” for me anymore). The thing was, Robin had explicitly asked me to stop fantasizing about her best friends. Beyonce, Michelle Branch, Trinity from The Matrix, sure. But not Dawn or Gwen, please?

But I couldn’t always help myself. Nevermind that Dawn wasn’t even really my type - she was just ... Dawn. And even Gwen was pretty damn hot and sexy as well.

Most of the time I was pretty good about it, but in plain simple fact, I’d only had sex with three women in my entire life, I could still vividly remember what it felt like to have my throbbing dick buried inside Robin’s two best friends, and so whenever I needed to call on that extra-special something to get me over the edge ... well ... those vivid memories were easier to get me there than unrealistic celebrity fantasies.

Of course, I wasn’t recalling those memories at the moment. No, I’d been fantasizing about Dawn pretty much from the moment I closed my eyes a few minutes ago. I did feel bad about it, but not bad enough to stop. So even after Robin’s voice shook me out of my fantasy, I just closed my eyes, pictured Dawn’s perfect face, and started pumping hard again.

“Ngh-ngh-ngh-ngh-NNNNGGGGHHHH!!!” she grunted as she clenched up and came. I felt her snatch spasming around my stiff schlong as she squealed her satisfaction.

“Hngh-hngh-hngh-hngh-HHHHNNNNGGGGHHHH!!!” I grunted a moment later as I slammed straight in one final time and spent myself inside her perfect pussy. My mouth gaped open but my eyes stayed closed, gasping my ecstatic relief as I let my head loll back while my pelvis pressed forward, firing wads of creamy spunk into her welcoming womb.

When I was done, I hung my head forward and finally opened my eyes. Robin remained splayed out in front of me, arms askew and panting in the aftermath of her own climax. Her head was turned to the side, and she stared back at me with a bit of an irked expression on her face.

“Who were you fantasizing I was just now?” she asked rather curtly.

“Huh?”

“Who were you fantasizing about?”

“I ... I wasn’t...” I stammered lamely.

Robin sighed. “I was imagining Orlando Bloom was busting his wad up my cunt.”

I blinked. “Really? Him?”

“What? He’s cute. Don’t tell me you never once fantasized I was Keira Knightley.”

“Well...” I blushed pink. “Maybe one time right after the movie came out. But that was a long time ago.”

“So I’ll ask again: Who were you fantasizing I was just now?”

I made a face, feeling guilty.

“Dawn? Again?”

“I’m sorry. I know you told me you didn’t want--”

Robin was already wriggling herself free of me, quite literally climbing the bed to get herself off my spent prick.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I stood up, withdrawing my penis even while she continued to crawl away and then rolled over to face me.

Robin shook her head. “You know the stupidest part? I’m not even mad about it. I get it: Dawn’s so effing gorgeous it’s completely unfair. She’s totally worth fantasizing about, as much as Orlando Bloom. And the reality is: I’ve got as much chance of getting Orlando Bloom to fall in love with me as you’ve got to get Dawn.”

“Ouch.” I winced. “True - and I never had any interest in getting Dawn to fall in love with me - but still: ouch. I thought you wanted me to carry myself with the confidence of a man who could get any woman he wanted?”

“You’re not Ben.”

“I know I’m not.”

“You’re not Ryan, either.” Robin gave me an apologetic look. “That’s not to say you don’t measure up to either of them. You do. I would MUCH rather be your girlfriend than either of theirs.”

“Thank you for that.”

“I’m only saying you’re neither of them because they’re Dawn’s only two endgames. Either she gives up on Ben and settles down to a life with Ryan, or she finally gives in to her true feelings, goes back to Ben, and truly lives Happily Ever After.”

“You really want her back with Ben, don’t you?”

“He’s her soulmate, her true love. So I’m sorry, baby, but you don’t stand a chance.”

I snorted. “I never cared about how much of a chance I had with Dawn. She’s not really my type, remember? And besides, I’ve apparently got as much of a chance as you do with Orlando Bloom.”

Robin waved me off. “I’m already over him. I think I wanna fantasize about Keanu next.”

I sighed, turned around, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Robin and I were in a dumpy Quality Inn with a spectacular view of the parking lot. The idea had been to take a weekend trip to San Luis Obispo and had gone to Hearst Castle earlier in the day to get away from it all and maybe find the magic again. But if anything, this trip had shown us that while we were still perfectly comfortable and companionable as travel partners, there was no real spark between us anymore. Perhaps there never was.

“What does it say about our sex life that we literally can’t have sex anymore without fantasizing about someone else?”

“It’s not that I can’t. The night we got here, I was only thinking about you,” Robin insisted.

I smiled. “That one was nice. Cuddling close. Kissing each other softly. I came while looking into your eyes. Your eyes.”

“Yeah, that one was nice.” Robin smiled serenely for a moment, but then she made a face. “On the other hand, I couldn’t orgasm that time. Don’t get me wrong; I didn’t mind. But I just ... I mean, it’s like you said: What does it say that I can’t get off without fantasizing you’re someone else?”

I sighed and bowed my head. “I don’t wanna break up.”