The Waiting Game

(This story was originally published as a single, continuous narrative -- but I figured people might have fun playing around with other outcomes for the characters. Please feel free to contribute, thanks!)

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If you didn’t know her, your first impression of Sonya would be that she’d descended from a long and particularly prestigious line of varsity cheerleaders. Tanned, blonde, and sporty—she struck that perfect balance between fit and curvy. But she didn’t get her figure from shaking pom-poms at some football game, no sir. She got it from fencing. From stabbing people, competitively. She had a gift for it.

That’s how we first met, actually—she joined the university fencing team with me during our second year of college after transferring from overseas. The guys and the girls competed separately but trained together, and I’m happy to say that I fell in love the very first time Sonya jabbed her foil into my breastbone. She beat me without giving up a single point, then tore off her mask and shook out her long, wavy hair.

“You’re really good,” she said, further charming me with her adorable Australian accent.

I was still trying to figure out how I’d been so thoroughly bested by an opponent six inches shorter than me. “I know I’m good. You’re just much, much better.”

Sonya scrunched up her face into a guilty smile.

“I’m Michael,” I said, extending my hand. But instead of accepting the handshake, Sonya raised her blade, taunting me:

“You wanna try again? Who knows, you might get lucky.”

I DID get lucky. Not in the next match, mind you (she kicked my ass again, just as thoroughly as she had before), no, I got lucky later that night, after she invited me back to her dorm room to watch the big swordfight from Scaramouche.

We hit it off so well, we wound up hardly paying any attention to the movie. I couldn’t believe how compatible we were. We could practically finish each other’s sentences.

She was like a wild, glowing ball of light. Feisty and earnest. Bouncy, flouncy fun. Filled to the brim with art and ideas and an endless supply of energy. And for whatever reason, she was every bit as smitten with me as I was with her. I had never been so happy to lose a fencing match.

By two in the morning, Sonya and I were busy practicing a very different type of thrusting. She was moaning incoherently while I plunged into her from behind, sheathing myself to the hilt inside her warm body. I scooped up those deliciously soft tits in my hands and squeezed…

Sonya cried out in sharp ecstasy—her voice so fucking sexy—that boiling hot body, trembling in my arms—

I pulled out, roaring like an animal as I erupted all over her perfectly formed ass.

When Sonya and I both drifted back down to earth, we turned and saw her roommate standing awkwardly in the doorway, still clutching her keys. Eyes wide open…