A pussy pyramid scheme

As part of my plan, I get my folks to spring for the extra cost of a single room. I tell them it will help me study and get my work done; if I can study more efficiently, it might even make it easier for me to hold a job. They buy it—literally. They also support my desire to get to the dorm at just about the earliest possible moment, which I say is to give me the maximum amount of time to get settled in before classes started. I don’t tell them what I’m so concerned about studying, or why I want so much time to settle in.

I set up my room, then set up the wifi on my laptop and pull up the notes I’ve made and the plan I’ve developed. I still need the most important thing: a partner. I pick up my cell phone, work up my nerve, and call Alyssa. She happens to be the only one of my friends who’s also attending Barron State, which is perfect.

“Hey, Andrew, what’s up? Are you moved in already?”

“Yeah, I am. Are you?” I asked.

“Yeah!” she says; I can practically see the smile on her face. “My roommate isn’t expected until tomorrow, though, so for today, I have the place to myself. You glad to be here?”

“I am. What dorm are you in? I’d love to drop by and talk for a while.”

“Um,” she says. “I’m in Kenyon—which is an all-girls’ dorm, so they aren’t going to let you in during move-in. Is yours co-ed?”

This is ideal. “Yeah, I’m in Reilly. Come on over; I’ll meet you in the lobby and we can talk in my room.”

“Cool! See you soon.” I smile at the honest pleasure in her voice, though it’s nothing compared to the pleasure I hope to give her today, if all goes the way I want it to. I can still back out; I can just hang out and talk, and let this idea go as a dream. But as much as the risk scares me, the thought of chickening out and regretting it for the rest of my life scares me more. I’m going for it.

It’s good to see Alyssa again, and not just because she’s glad to see me. The fact is, she’s gorgeous. She’s fair-skinned and lightly freckled with wavy red hair that she keeps shoulder-length; she has deep green eyes and high cheekbones in a heart-shaped face. She’s built like the star gymnast she is—barely over five feet tall but leggy for her height. Her ass is high and incredibly tight, and though her legs are slim, they’re very strong. She’s an absolute hardbody without being obtrusively muscled at all, just as toned as it’s possible to be. Her breasts are small enough that she doesn’t need a bra, and she’s never worn one unless someone required it. They’re perfectly proportioned to the rest of her body, but I’ve suspected for a while that she wishes they were bigger, since she always wears the tightest shirts she can find.

Today’s no different. She’s clearly hit the campus bookstore, because she’s wearing a BSU shirt that not only looks like it had to be painted on, it leaves her flat, toned midriff bare. Alyssa’s nipples have always been easily aroused—you can tell that just by spending time around her, if you watch—and they’re erect now. The shirt’s so tight, they make little cones in the fabric. She’s also wearing a pair of BSU-emblazoned athletic shorts that do nothing to obscure her tight little ass. She’s playing with her keys, probably because there’s no earthly way she could fit them in those shorts.

I open the door for my friend and introduce her to the RA on duty. It’s not really fair to him, but what else can I do? “Dave, this is Alyssa. She’s a friend from home; she’s going to hang out in my room for a while.” He manages to pull his scattered thoughts together, greet her, and ask her to sign in as a guest. She obliges, and we head up to my room. I’m on the sixth floor, #624.

As I open the door, she asks, “How’d you score a single, Andrew?”

“I convinced my folks I need it to study,” I say with a shrug. “They got housing to agree, and paid the fee for it.”

“Lucky,” she says, a trace of envy in her voice.

I close the door behind us and say, “I’m hoping to be even luckier soon.” Alyssa spins around and looks at me, her face suddenly a roil of conflicting emotions. There’s a bit of fear that I might be about to try something aggressive; at the same time, I’ve always been the good guy, the safe guy, and she can’t really believe that I would want to hurt her in any way. Along with it is the determination to defend herself if she needs to—and the awareness that she could break every bone in my body if I did try anything. Believe me, I’m also well aware of that.

I suppose I should be sympathetic, but since I know what I mean, the thought that I might suddenly turn predator just makes me laugh. At the sound of my laughter, she relaxes. “Don’t worry, Alyssa, I didn’t mean it that way. I want to talk to you about the conversation that last night when we were all hanging out.” She starts to tense up again, so I continue quickly. “Did you and the other girls mean what you said about getting your pussy eaten?”

She sits down, and I sit across from her. She’s trying to figure out where I’m going with this, but the thought of it makes her melt anyway. “Ohhh, yeah, Andrew, we meant every word of it. Most of us would do just about anything for a man who gets off on eating us out and knows what he’s doing.”

“Here’s the reason I ask. I want to be that guy, better than anybody—not just any guy, I want to learn to eat pussy better than any girl, if I can. I want you to teach me.” Her eyes go wide at that. “For two weeks, I want to eat your pussy at least twice a day—more, if you want. As often as you want it and I can do it. I want to learn everything you can teach me—every tip you can give me, every technique you know or have ever heard of—and I’ll try all of it. I want two weeks to master eating you out.

“Then, I want to go into business with you.” She looks at me like I’m crazy, so I say, “Hear me out. If I’m good enough, I want you to make referrals. I know you’re rushing a sorority, and yours is the highest-class one on campus. You’ll have all sorts of girls to refer me to. Then, when the gymnastics team starts meeting—”

“A whole group of girls,” she interrupts, musingly, “who would love to have a cuntlicker on call. If a guy gives you a good fucking, you might be left too sore to practice the next day, but you don’t want to go the whole season without getting any. And I know that sorority—yeah, I can give you a lot of really good referrals. IF you’re good enough to be worth referring.”

“Well,” I say, “you’ll be my teacher, so I expect I will be.” She grins briefly at that. “I’m feeling sanguine about my chances, anyway.”

Alyssa pauses a beat, then asks, “What’s ‘sanguine’ mean?”

For a split second, I’m startled she doesn’t know—then I catch the reference. Firefly! How could I have missed it? “‘Sanguine.’ Hopeful. Plus, point of interest, it also means ‘bloody.’”

“Well,” she drawls, “that pretty much covers all the options, don’t it?”

I laugh. “Somehow, I’d missed that you’re a Browncoat.”

Alyssa grins. “All the way back to the second episode . . .”

“. . . that Fox aired first.” Her grin broadens. “Right. Anyway, back to the point. You gave me the idea, so I want you to profit from this, too. Here’s what I’m offering you. First, I’ll keep eating your pussy twice a week, except for weeks where that doesn’t work for your schedule. Second, 10% of the profit. Third 50% of the fee on every client you refer.

“Actually, the referral bonus will be something I’ll do for clients on direct referrals as well—but I’m getting ahead of myself. Here’s the deal I plan to offer clients. We’ll set prices together, they’ll know the fee, and I want it in cash. I want every client to be clean and fresh from their pubic mound to the end of their ass crack, and medically clean as well—no diseases. In return, I guarantee that I won’t ask for any sexual favors whatsoever (except that I think being allowed to eat their pussy is a sexual favor, but I won’t tell them that). I’m not looking to get sex out of this, not even a blowjob. They give me money, I give them the greatest pleasure you can teach me to give them, and then I leave. No commitment, no condom, no pregnancy test. Oh, and one other thing—I will never talk about my sessions or my clients. They can talk to each other, and I hope they do, but on my end, I will keep everything confidential.

“So, let’s say we call it $20 for a pussy-eating session. If you refer a girl to me, you’ll get half of that for the direct referral, and then 10% of the profits, so another dollar. Out of $20, for every client you refer, you get $11. If that girl sends me a referral, she’ll get half—$10—as her referral benefit, and you’ll get $1 as your share of the profits. Two referrals, and she has the money for another session.

“As for me, I get 45% of the fee, and—I hope; I think—all the pussy I can eat. It should be a nice income stream for both of us. It should also make me one of the most popular guys on campus, at least with the women on campus. I think it sounds like a sweet deal. What do you think? Are you in?”

I already knew the answer from the naked hunger on Alyssa’s face, but I still had to ask. She doesn’t need words to answer. She stands up, fixes her eyes on mine like deep green lasers, pulls her shirt over her head (breaking the eye connection briefly), then grabs her shorts and slides them to the floor. Just like that, she is dazzlingly, gloriously naked.