I mean...shes not that bad

It had been two months since their move to campus, and they were currently in Bowen’s single-occupancy dorm room—a room given to all star players from the menagerie of sports the uni offered. Bowen, the golden boy of the football team, was currently napping with his head resting at the opposite end of the bed. He had grabbed a pillow, tucking it under his head as he slept soundly, thankfully not a heavy snorer.

Meanwhile, Heather sat beside him in his oversized grey T-shirt and her yellow pleated skirt, idly typing on her computer and sipping her tea, wearing her glasses for once instead of contacts.

It was in these quiet moments that Heather found the most peace—moments where she didn’t feel like she was always chasing after Bowen's most recent adventure. Be it sexual or not, no, In these quiet moments, they felt almost like a couple who had been together for years… maybe even like they were married.

However, these innocent moments felt like they were being ridden off track as Heather snuck glances at Bowen’s nicely chiseled bare back…and maybe his nice and voluptuous derrière as well.

Bowen, sensing her gaze but pretending to be asleep, allowed her to admire him quietly.

“Dammmn…that ass” Heather mumbles and it took all of Bowen’s self-will not to just snort right then and there. It felt strange—her being so open in her ogling. Like, he’d seen her maidenly side glances from time to time but this was the first time he felt her pure unadulterated lustful gaze at him. It was nice kind of.

And sure enough, Heather continued to stare, unable to take her eyes off his shorts and the hem of his briefs peeking out. Then she proceeded to do something not even Bowen could have prepared himself for. Slowly she slipped her finger under Bowen’s shorts. Grazing it over the thin fabric of his trunks. She didn't know why she was doing this but at the same time, she felt a small heat emanating from her lower belly. Like someone had slowly turned on an oven inside her abdomen.

Feeling the gentle touch on his behind, Bowen's breathing slightly hitches. He remains still, but muscles tense beneath her fingertips. The thin fabric of his shorts and boxer briefs does little to hide the firmness of his backside. And either Heather doesn’t know or doesn’t want to check, but she leans closer.

As Heather's fingers splay across his cheek, Bowen can feel the warmth of her breath on his skin. He bites down on his lip to suppress a chuckle at the way she gently squeezes and releases his muscular cheek, feeling it bounce back beneath her touch.

The suddenly she grabs one of his ash-cheeks and pinches it. Unable to keep up the charade any longer, a low groan escapes Brent's lips as Heather's pinch sends a jolt of pleasure straight through him. His hips involuntarily twitch. "Goddamn..."

This surprises Heather as her hands quickly jerk back “Oh sorry did I hurt you?” She asks, feeling flustered and unsure.

This question makes a small blush play on Bowen’s face as his false sleeping charade is caught. Bowen turns his head slightly. "Nah, you didn't hurt me," he chuckles softly, trying to play it cool. "Just, uh, didn't expect someone to grab my ass is all."

“S’sorry,” Heather says as she fidgets with her hands. But at the same time, the heat in her nether regions seemed to grow…churning in a way never she’d felt before. Not even during her first time with him.

Bowen's ever curious eyes notice right way that his girlfriend's demeanor felt…more flustered than usual.

He reaches out and gently grabs her wrist, chuckling "You ain't sorry at all, are you?"

“Uhhh no I am I shouldn’t have done it w-without permission” she sputters out. Wow, she looked oddly flushed… well more sore than usual. With the way her face was turned away, her eyes not meeting his, her shoulders pulled up. Like a kid being caught taking candy…or compromising pics.

And as Bowen’s eyes continued to wander down he suddenly saw it….a small bump rising from her pleated skirt. Instantly Bowen’s eyes widen to comical proportions as he's immediately drawn to the prominent small bulge in her skirt. He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry. As if on instinct, or controlled by an unseen ****, Bowen reaches out with his free hand.

“Uh, Bowen what are you?-”

But like a curious cat who can't quit, he wordlessly lifts the hem of her skirt to reveal the outline of a tiny peckered hard-on--- straining against her panties.

The air in the room suddenly seemed to thicken with unspoken words, and for a moment, neither of them moved, as if they were caught in a screenshot.

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