Chapter 53: Sky

There was no record scratch sound.

I didn’t black out for a moment. Time didn’t skip a beat. I didn’t feel surprised in the slightest by Skylar’s request for me to take her home and fuck her brains out.

I also didn’t feel remotely inclined to fulfill that request.

“You’ve been drinking, Skylar,” I told her seriously, still panting hard from the force of that breathlessly passionate kiss. “We’ve both been drinking.”

“Alcohol doesn’t make me want things I didn’t already want in the first place,” she insisted, her English accent somehow making her words even more alluring as she tightened her grip around my neck and leaned forward to press her lips against mine once more.

“But it does make you say things out loud you would normally keep to yourself,” I interjected, pulling my head back an inch out of her reach. “It does make you forget about all the potential consequences of your words and actions until the next day when you sober up, realize what you’ve done, and feel full of regret.”

She dropped back down on her heels and pursed her lips. “If alcohol does all that, I’m thinking you haven’t been drinking enough.”

“You said you trusted me to not let us get carried away. I won’t violate that trust.”

“Not even if I’m asking you to violate that trust?”

“Especially if you are.”

“Don’t you want me?” she whined.

“Hell yeah I want you. You’re sexy and smart and intoxicatingly gorgeois. But IF we were ever to cross this line, I’d want it to be while we’re both sober and making that decision with clear minds.”

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that?” she muttered in a somewhat bitter tone that nevertheless contrasted with a twinkle in her eyes.

I grinned. “The anticipation of the chase isn’t something we can go back and do again. I want you. Holy shit I want you, and I’ve always wanted you. But a drunken hookup that honestly screams of desperation after a long and arduous semester isn’t the payoff I had in mind.”

Her eyebrows went up. “And what IS the payoff you had in mind? In how many different ways have you imagined seducing me?”

“Not a single one,” I breathed. “In every single fantasy, you seduce me.”

“And in how many different ways has imaginary me lured poor innocent imaginary Matty into her bed?” Skylar husked.

“Too many to count.”

Skylar purred, “I thought you never once masturbated to thoughts of me? ‘Unequivocally’ stated if I recall. Tell me that’s changed.”

“It hasn’t,” I confirmed.

“Not even after watching me in the shower masturbating to thoughts of you?” She pouted. “I imagined you were just outside the door stroking that fat cock of yours Neevie’s promised me.”

I took a deep breath and sighed. “You’re my friend, Skylar, and you’ve told me repeatedly, ‘That’s not our relationship.’ So no, I haven’t been masturbating to thoughts of you.”

She leaned forward to whisper into my ear, “Neevie said she’s fucked you while telling you dirty fantasies about the three of us doing all sorts of unspeakable things to each other.”

“Well ... yes she has,” I admitted.

“Why don’t you call her up, invite her over, and turn some of those fantasies into reality?”

“We can’t. Not tonight,” I insisted. “But if you wake up in the morning and in the clear light of sobriety decide you really do want me to ‘rise to the occasion’, I’m pretty sure we can work it out.”

“Sure. Let’s do that tomorrow. But first, you can take me home, rip my clothes off, and pin me to the fucking floor with your big dick then and there.” Skylar closed the gap between us, her hand molding around the bulge in my pants. She bit my ear and husked, “I’m soaking wet for you, Matty. We wouldn’t even need foreplay.”

“Sky...” I muttered mournfully while closing my eyes and shuddering. She slipped her hand beneath my waistband to encircle my rock-hard erection, but her fingers were icy cold, and the shock of them made me abruptly take a step back and yank her hand out by the wrist. “Shit that’s cold!”

Skylar reacted as if an icy cold bucket of water had been tossed over her head. She tucked her elbows in, balled up both fists in front of her mouth, and let out a tiny squeal while trying to hold her breath. An expression of deep apology was etched across her face. “Sorry!”

We were now standing several feet apart, and I raised both hands defensively between us. “I won’t do this while we’re drunk. Period. No matter how much I’m attracted to you – no matter how much we’re attracted to each other - there are reasons why we haven’t done this before that have nothing to do with you being my T.A. and I won’t risk our friendship over a drunken misunderstanding while you’ve let your guard down.”

Skylar’s eyes tightened, and as she took a deep breath, I realized she wasn’t going to push me any further.

“You trusted me to not let us get carried away,” I stated seriously. “I’m not letting us get carried away. I don’t want you to feel rejected, because gawd dammit I want you, Skylar. I do. But your friendship is too important to me to risk fucking this up. I don’t want you doing something you’ll ultimately regret. I’m going to walk you home now. I’m going to make sure my friend is safe and sound in her own bed. Tomorrow morning I’ll come pick you up so you can get your car back. And then whatever you need me to be – platonic friend, lover, or even just a willing listener – that’s what I’ll be.”

Skylar sighed, pursing her lips and glancing off to the side. I could see she felt a sense of rejection, despite my plea for her not to feel that way. I wanted to believe she’d understand in the morning once she’d sobered up. I feared I’d already done permanent harm to our friendship by turning her down. I was terrified that she’d feel guilty and embarrassed in the morning, filled with regret for her actions tonight even though we hadn’t actually done anything. But there was nothing else I could do right now.

Let the chips fall where they may.

Skylar took one more deep breath. She exhaled slowly, and once she was done, she finally turned her gaze to look at me. I couldn’t read the expression on her face. She didn’t look happy, but nor did she look upset. Instead she seemed more ... resigned ... than anything else. And in the end, she nodded and gave me a tight smile.

“Take me home, Matty,” she requested plainly.

I nodded, walked back, and wrapped her arms around my elbow again. I leaned over to give her a friendly peck on the cheek. “Gladly.”

“I’m really sorry about all this,” she told me with a wince.

I patted her forearm. “No big deal.”

Even IF Skylar and I had gone through with her request for me to take her home and fuck her brains out, I rather doubted it would’ve lived up to my wildest dreams. That last drink she’d finished off before we left might’ve been one too many, it was quite a long walk from my house back to her apartment, and she was really tired by the time we finally got there. Sleepy, even. And I had to drape her arm over my shoulders for support to help her stagger up the stairs to her floor.

Her head was lolling, and she didn’t seem capable of fishing her keys out of her purse, so I had to sort of brace myself against the door to keep us both upright, hold the purse open with my left hand, and fish her keys out with my right hand. Even after I’d fitted the key to the lock and turned the knob, the stuck door wouldn’t initially budge, and I had to resort to holding Skylar up and literally kick it open in order to gain access to her apartment.

I practically carried Skylar into her bedroom and over to the bed. After getting her seated, I lost my grip for a moment and she flopped over lifelessly across her back. For a moment I briefly contemplated what it would’ve been like to have sex with her in this state, and the idea of mindlessly rutting into her half-passed out, barely conscious body did not appeal.

Would probably be difficult to explain to the judge, as well.

Hell, there were better than fifty-percent odds that she’d throw up on me during the process. With that nasty image in my mind, I removed her glasses, folded them and placed them on her nightstand, and then rolled her onto her side and propped her head up with one elbow just to make sure she didn’t drown in her own vomit if that was the case. Then, I sat down at the foot of her bed and waited there for ten minutes until she was sound asleep and snoring to reassure myself she wouldn’t hurl and drown.

Even after ten minutes, I hesitated to leave. I wanted to return home to The BTC girls, of course, but part of me couldn’t bear to leave Skylar alone in this state. Still, I rationalized to myself that she was a big girl and a grown woman who could take care of herself, so I stood up to let myself out the door.

Perhaps she felt the shift of weight on her bed, because she moaned and turned, looking up at me with bleary eyes. “Matty?” she asked uncertainly, as if surprised to find me in her room.

I turned and sat back down beside her, stroking her arm. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

“Feeling like shit,” she muttered. A moment later, her eyes bulged, her cheeks puffed out, and she pinched her lips tightly shut to hold back her retches. Faster than I would’ve believed possible, she burst from the bed and ran to her bathroom. And by the time I gathered my wits to follow, she was already on her knees trying to hold her hair back while violently spewing sour-smelling slimy pastes of pink, orange, and brown goop into the toilet bowl.

This wasn’t the first time I’d needed to hold a girl’s hair back while she puked into the toilet, so I knelt and gently gathered up her long, honey-blonde locks in my hands. I stroked her spine and breathed through my mouth, trying to not let the smell overpower my own gag reflex. And I found myself pleasantly reassured that at least I didn’t have to worry about her drowning in her own vomit anymore.

Five minutes later, Skylar’s left arm was draped across the toilet seat with her head pillowed on her bicep. The toilet bowl itself was empty for now, since I’d flushed away the remnants of her regurgitated dinner. I’d actually done so twice, given that she’d found a few more pints of puke just a minute ago. But for now, it seemed like she’d finally gotten it all out of her system, and she panted softly with her eyes closed, on the verge of falling asleep again.

I didn’t want her passing out atop the toilet, so I rubbed her shoulder and said encouragingly, “C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.”

Skylar groaned and resisted at first with the groggy whine of a teenager who didn’t want to wake up for school. But she sat up straight, cracked one eye open to peer up at me, and muttered, “Help me clean up.”

I canted my head to the side and took notice of the dry vomit crusting the corner of her mouth and cheek. “I’ll get you a wet paper towel.”

“Nnnooo,” Skylar moaned before reaching to the hem of her sweater and tugging it upward. “I need a shower.”

“Uhhh ... Are you sure?”

“Fuck, Matty. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” Her eyes were closed, there was some drool leaking down her chin, and she was struggling to pull her sweater up and over her prodigious boobs.

I knelt beside her, took hold of her sweater, and tugged the hem outward from her chest in order to clear those massive melons. Her arms were limp and unhelpful as I raised the sweater up and up until the sleeves came free. And then Skylar flopped back against the toilet bowl sideways, nearly toppling over onto the floor.

I wound up leaning with my back against the wall with Skylar’s towel behind my head, my legs spread to the sides while I propped up the semi-lucid blonde back against my chest. Reaching around her torso, it took me a second to remember that women’s blouses were buttoned in the opposite direction of men’s, but I managed to undo all the buttons in short order. I left the blouse hanging on her shoulders while I reached down to unsnap her jeans and drag down the zipper.

The Engineering major inside me calculated that I’d need to roll her onto her back, lift her legs and butt, and then drag her jeans and panties off. But Skylar summoned the energy at that point to plant her feet and raise her ass off the floor just long enough to tug her jeans and panties down to mid-thigh. I then left her propped against the wall and circled around to the other side of her, blinked and shook my head at my first sight of her blonde-tufted mound, and then forced myself to focus on dragging her jeans and panties off. Next, I gently tugged on her hands to pitch her torso forwards and off the wall so that I could remove her blouse. And last but not least, I unsnapped her bra and then drew the shoulder straps down her arms, revealing her massive Double-D mammaries that surely rivaled Sam’s for size.

My logical brain told me this wasn’t a remotely sexual moment, and yet the drunken horndog inside me couldn’t help but feel a little thrill at my first frontal glimpse of Skylar’s naked breasts. She’d said it wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before, but that wasn’t really true. I’d caught some side-boob in the foggy mirror’s reflection when she was masturbating in the shower, plus an incredible look at her bubble butt, but all of that was more of a PG-13 kind of glimpse of her body. I’d certainly never been able to get this kind of view before.

Still, I didn’t let myself linger. After a quick yo-yo with my eyes to her naked breasts, I focused my attention on Skylar’s face and her rather vulnerable demeanor. I quickly realized that she still didn’t have the strength to stand, and in less than a second I made up my mind.

I let Skylar rest against the wall while I turned on the shower and adjusted the knob to get the hot water flowing. Then, I stood up and matter-of-factly took my clothes off. I didn’t glance down to see if she was looking at me, considering it far more likely her eyes were shut with weariness and alcohol fog. And once I’d finished stripping down, I found that her head was bowed over her forearms, which were braced atop her upraised knees.

And then I tenderly helped her into the shower spray.

There wasn’t anything titillating about what came next. She still lacked the strength to stand, so I put her in the same position on the floor of the tub: knees up and head bowed over her forearms. I’d spent a LOT of time in the shower bathing and rinsing the girls in my life, and I returned to muscle memory while doing the same for Skylar. Her seated position on the floor of the tub was somewhat unusual but not impossible. I didn’t try to do a thorough job cleaning her more sensitive regions, even though I was holding her shower pouf so that my bare hand didn’t even touch her skin. Instead I focused on shampooing her hair, washing her face, and cleaning up her shoulders, back, and arms in a workmanlike manner. The rest of her body merely getting rinsed would have to be “good enough”. Next, I turned off the shower, wrapped Skylar’s big towel around her body, and used the hand towel hanging by the sink to get myself (mostly) dry. Finally, I dried her off as best I could, kept the damp towel wrapped around her body as I scooped her up into a bridal lift, and then very carefully stepped out of the tub and carried her into the bedroom.

Her arms were wrapped around my neck as I gingerly laid her down across her bed, and she wouldn’t let go even after I’d set her head down. I stared down into Skylar’s light-blue eyes from only inches away, finding that she was staring up at me with an expression I couldn’t really read. She looked different without her glasses on – a little more open, a little less guarded. And when I tried to pull my head back, she whined a bit, tightened her grip, and wouldn’t let me go.

I didn’t speak. I merely raised my eyebrows and gave her a reassuring smile. Skylar pouted cutely like a toddler being told she had to let go of her favorite stuffie so that it could go into the laundry, but her grip slackened. I reached up with both hands to gently take hold of her wrists, and she allowed me to tug them away. I quickly left the bed, went back to the bathroom, and then returned holding her hair dryer in my hands.

Skylar looked up at me with a smile of relief. Maybe it was just the shower, or perhaps purging her stomach had emptied out a lot of the alcohol fogging her brain, because she looked much clearer-headed now. She was able to sit herself up without requiring my assistance while I knelt down to find an available electrical socket behind the nightstand to plug in the hair dryer. And then I took a seat on the edge of the bed beside her, gathered up her darkened, damp locks, and started to blow dry her hair.

It was something I’d done for Naimh quite a bit lately. My personal redhead was perfectly capable of blow drying her own hair, but she rather enjoyed the intimate nature of having her boyfriend do it for her. Occasionally, she delighted in giving me a different kind of “blow job” as a way of saying “thanks”. It was one of the many little things we’d made the time to do over the last few months while growing our relationship, and I’d almost taken it for granted.

Skylar seemed rather amused by the novel situation, as she kept glancing back at me over her shoulder while I went about blow drying her hair in a workmanlike manner.

Three times, I gave her a stern look to turn back around and let me finish.

Twice, I couldn’t help but notice that the towel had slipped from around her midsection, exposing her bare breasts.

Once, she glanced down at my crotch, which was the first time I remembered that I was completely naked as well.

Yes, I had a hard-on. Sue me. I’d already made up my mind that the gorgeous blonde bombshell and I would NOT be having sex tonight, but she was still a gorgeous blonde bombshell. And did I not mention that her bare boobs were out? Still, when she rather obviously ogled my erection, I shook my head and gave her a stern look that she should just ignore it. If we ever crossed that line – and that was a very big IF – it would have to happen while both of us were completely sober and following a rather more significant discussion regarding the future nature of our relationship.

Yeah, yeah ... More talking. I knew some dudes would call for me to turn in my Man Card for choosing to talk instead of fuck. But the truth was: I could get laid at any time. The potential for ruining my friendship with Skylar was far too great a risk for me to blindly rush ahead just to get my dick wet.

So I managed to completely dry the blonde’s hair without ogling her naked body (too much). I finished up, knelt by the nightstand to unplug the hair dryer, wrapped up its cord, and then returned it to the bathroom sink cabinet. And when I came back to Skylar’s bedroom, I found her right where I’d left her, looking at me expectantly.

Her towel was open in a loose U-shape around her lower back and along the sides of her legs. She’d perched her heels on the bed frame two feet apart, separating her thighs so that I’d have a perfect view of her plump, pink pussy, with parted labia glistening with moisture that had nothing to do with the shower. She leaned back with her palms flat on the mattress behind her, a position which proudly thrust her big bare breasts forward into the air. And she regarded me with a coy, mysterious gaze that seemingly invited me to come ravish her spectacular naked body.

Nothing had yet been spoken. The last time either of us had said a thing, ages ago, Skylar had made a groggy statement that I’d already seen her naked while insisting that she needed a shower. Since then, neither of us had uttered a single word. And I wasn’t about to break the spell by saying anything now.

Instead, I moved to take a seat beside her, careful to keep my leg from touching hers. I leaned over and gave her a chaste peck on the cheek. She shivered and leaned a little closer to me, trying to increase the pressure of my lips against her skin. But I withdrew quickly, and she turned to look up at me with a forlorn expression.

And only then did I speak.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

I gave her a warm, reassuring smile, and then I stood up from the bed. I made it as far as her bedroom door before she complained, “It’s after midnight. That means it IS morning now. Come back to me, please?”

I paused, turned to glance back over my shoulder at her, and flashed her a wink.

And then I got dressed and left the apartment.

I’d told Skylar I would see her “in the morning”, and I kept my word.

Barely.

My watch read 11:58am when I knocked on her apartment door, and the time had probably ticked over to 11:59 by the time she opened it looking rather worse for wear.

“Morning! Ready to...” I started greeting before I fully realized that Skylar was wearing a house robe and slippers. She didn’t have her glasses on, wore no makeup save for the remnants of whatever I hadn’t washed off last night in the shower, her hair was a mess, and she was scraping crusty bits of dried-up sleep dust from her eyes.

Apparently, this was the first time she’d gotten out of bed, which surprised me because I’d texted her a half-hour ago asking if it was a good time for me to come pick her up. She’d replied, Come on over. So I’d assumed she’d be ready to go.

Evidently not.

“Morning, Matty,” Skylar greeted me softly, her voice so quiet and raspy that I could barely hear her. The words caught in her throat, perhaps the first words she’d spoken aloud this morning. So she coughed twice, took a deep breath, and tried again, this time much more clearly, “Morning, Matty.”

“How are you feeling?” I asked with some concern.

“Been better,” she muttered before turning away from me and slowly walking back into her living room.

Only then did I enter the apartment and close the door behind me. It got stuck on the jamb the first time, so I had to try again to get the latch to click. And when I turned back around, I found that Skylar was heading back into her bedroom.

I followed after her, and as I got to the doorway, I saw that Skylar had crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up and over her shoulder. Her eyes were closed and her forehead was furrowed, and I could only imagine how badly her hangover must be affecting her.

Rather than enter her bedroom, I turned and went into her kitchen. I already knew my way around, having puttered around in there several times over the past semester. I filled a mug with hot water from the electric kettle before fetching a bag of tea from a different cupboard. I filled a glass with water (but no ice). And after squirting a bit of honey into the hot tea once it was finished, I carried both mug and glass into Skylar’s bedroom and set them down on the nightstand next to her cell phone.

Her body was curled on one side but not so tightly as to be called a fetal position. There was a gap in front of her midsection wide enough for me to sit on the edge of the mattress, and I soothingly stroked her shoulder, upper arm, and back. Skylar’s eyes remained closed, but the furrows in her forehead lessened at my touch. And the slight grimace on her face slackened until her lips became a relaxed straight line.

We remained like that for several minutes. I kept idly stroking her, not saying a word. Her face continued to relax, and eventually I thought she’d fallen asleep. Figuring I could go back home and just let her call me later whenever she woke up again, I took a deep breath and stood up to let myself out the door.

Perhaps Skylar felt the shift of weight on her bed, because she moaned and grasped my forearm. “No, don’t go.”

I smiled kindly at her and sat back down. With closed eyes, she curled both arms around my lower back with her hands gripping my side and tugged herself forward to pillow her head in my lap, her nose almost touching my belly. And then she sighed and snuggled in closer, apparently with no interest in ever letting me go.