Authors: Julie A. Richman
Feeling her tongue slowly swirling around the shaft of his cock, Zac decided it was time to take control. Without opening his eyes, because frankly he didn’t want to see her, he reached down and grabbed two handfuls of her hair and pressed her down onto him tightly. Holding her head firmly in place, he rammed his thick cock to the back of her throat.
Britt began to make a sound that was a cross between a gag and a moan. With the rhythm now in his control, Zac started to get into it.
“Suck harder. I want to you take it all,” he plowed to the back of her throat.
Britt grabbed his balls and started kneading them like dough, and his release began to rise as if she were squeezing toothpaste out of a tube. Pressing her head harder into him, Zac unleashed in her mouth. His immediate thought was that he was glad it was over.
As if sensing his need, the knock at the door made him smile.
“Zac,” knock, knock, knock. “Zac,” knock, knock, knock. “Zac,” knock, knock, knock.
“Come in,” he yelled, quickly pulling on his jeans and zipping them up halfway.
Britt was still perched on the end of Zac’s bed, but now with a look of utter confusion on her face.
The door burst open and in bounded Elisabeth Pierpont van der Heyden.
“Lizard,” Zac greeted her, his smile both true and telling. True in the sense that he was always glad to see her, telling in the sense that she could see the moment was inopportune and he was glad she was there.
Throwing herself down on the bed next to him, he grabbed her in a faux choke hold and she pretended to struggle to get away.
From the far end of the bed, Britt watched the playful interaction.
“Let me go, you brute!” Liz feigned, continuing her exaggerated thrashing.
“Never Milady. You are mine for eternity.” Zac played into it.
“Not if you were the last Viking to walk the Earth,” she let her muscle-bound six foot, blonde haired, blue eyed buddy know.
Britt continued to watch a playful Zac and Liz, her surprise now taking on a look of rancor, as Liz stopped struggling and she and Zac relaxed into a pile of laughs.
Looking back toward the end of the bed, Liz finally acknowledged Britt’s presence. “Hey Britt,” there was nothing warm in Liz’s tone.
The sorority girl just nodded in acknowledgement at the tee shirt, ripped jeans clad girl in Zac’s arms.
“Studying?” Liz asked facetiously.
“We just finished.” Zac winked conspiratorially at Britt. He knew he could charm her right back into feeling like she was on the inside, even though she was very definitely on the outside looking in.
Right on cue, Britt dipped her shoulder and smiled - a perfect sorority girl pose as her long blonde hair cascaded forward, and she leveled a steamy glance at Zac through long, mascara-thickened lashes.
Zac could feel Liz stiffen against him. There was going to be a showdown on which girl was going to leave first. Knowing Liz van der Heyden as well as he did, his money was on her.
Liz gave a lazy stretch and cuddled into Zac. Her soft feline looks taking on a smug grin.
All three of their heads turned at the sound of the doorknob, and Zac was relieved that his roommate was back and that the tense situation between the women would immediately be alleviated by his arrival.
Brian Brown had been an All-American high school quarterback, hailing from one of the Dallas/Ft. Worth area’s famed high school football programs. A starting quarterback by his sophomore year, Brian had Division I dreams that were later squelched by a broken ankle during a quarterback sack on a balmy Friday night. Now in his sophomore year of college, he was second string at a Division III school.
Entering the room with his usual swagger, Brian was as good looking and as charismatic as his roommate. Where Zac was fair and blonde with piercing blue eyes and possessed natural surfer boy good looks, Brian was dark haired and brown eyed, with a very white toothpaste commercial smile and irresistible dimples. Together they turned heads and were equally both the envy and foe of every other male on campus.
Flashing a shit-eating grin at Zac, Brian tossed an envelope at him. Catching it in mid-air, Zac peered in and rifled through its contents.
“Fine night,” he exclaimed.
“Very fine night,” Brian concurred.
“Very fine night indeed.” It was clear the two had their banter down pat and this routine was a part of their regular repartee. Zac tossed the envelope back to Brian and the exchange ended in a fist bump.
“LSU took it up the ass.” Brian sat down on his bed and began to check messages on his phone.
“And we thank them for it,” Zac gave Liz a hug as he said that.
“Well, I’d better go, I’ve got a test I really need to study for.” Britt scrambled off the end of Zac’s bed.
Zac didn’t move. “I’ll see you in class Monday.”
“Yeah, ok. Bye everyone.” She quickly headed to the door in a very public walk of shame.
“Bye Britt.” Brian didn’t look up from his phone.
“Bye Britt,” the singsong tone in Liz’s voice did nothing to hide how pleased she was that the other girl was leaving.
Once gone from the room, Liz propped herself up on one elbow, turning to Zac, “What are you doing with her?” her nose scrunched up with disdain.
“Why? Are you going to suck my cock?”
“Ewww,” Liz’s nose scrunched even tighter, “not in this lifetime. Gross.”
“Exactly,” he grabbed Liz in a neck hold, “since you are not going to service me, you want me to be denied?”
All three laughed. The thought of Zac Moore being denied sex by any living or breathing female was a joke. All he needed to do was smile and women came running, crushing one another as they vied for his attention. Elisabeth Pierpont van der Heyden knew that better than anyone.
Zac Moore loved being with Liz van der Heyden’s family and Liz loved having him on summer holiday in Europe with them. He was the perfect beard.
Her mother loved not only his perfect WASP looks, tall, blonde, blue-eyed, and exceedingly handsome. She also loved his Exeter education, his country club manners and heart-stopping smile. But almost more than anything, she loved the fact that she could trace his lineage back to the colonies. He was one of THOSE Moores and Cornelia “Neelie” van der Heyden loved that her eldest daughter was in a seemingly inseparable relationship with this darling young man.
Richard van der Heyden, Liz’s father, was more impressed with the young man’s prowess on the tennis courts and competitive spirit than anything else. Having been coached from a very young age by his father, Schooner Moore, a former college tennis star, Zac Moore could wield a racquet with power and ease and slam an ace serve that confounded his opponents. The tennis team coach at Bryson College had done everything in his power to persuade Zac to join the team, but to no avail. Zac Moore had no interest in playing team sports. Betting on them was another story.
Elisabeth Pierpont van der Heyden came from impeccable breeding. Her male ancestors were magnates of industry, from transportation to finance, while their female counterparts defined blue blood society. Public persona was everything in the van der Heyden’s world and Liz had a “Manners Tutor” by the time she was three years old. A resident of Darien, Connecticut, Liz’s family home was perched on a point overlooking the Long Island Sound with sweeping views not only of Long Island’s famed Gold Coast, but also the entire Manhattan skyline. What was known as a million dollar view was more like $30 million from the van der Heyden estate.
By high school, Liz’s parents thought it best that their high-spirited and rambunctious daughter be sent to an all-girls boarding school and chose the tony Emma Willard School in upstate New York. Feeling their daughter would get into the least amount of trouble on the pastoral 137 acre campus away from Connecticut’s elite and sometimes trouble prone wealthy teens, the van der Heyden’s were relieved that Liz seemed to settle down and excel academically in her new environment. Unsuspecting, what the van der Heyden’s did not know was why their darling Elisabeth was socially excelling in her new all-girls environment, living out her dream, with teacher and fellow student alike.
One of the things Elisabeth Pierpont van der Heyden and her inseparable college buddy, Zac Moore, had in common was that they both got more pussy than anyone else on campus, and in their first summer in Europe together, Liz and Zac often got to share the same European pussy. Hedonistic teens on the loose with seemingly endless financial resources, they both reveled in how far they could push things without getting caught. In a totally platonic way, Liz and Zac were soul mates.
Unfortunately for Liz, her grandfather, Richard Morgan van der Heyden III was a huge homophobe. The old man never missed an opportunity to spout off about his hatred of the perverse and sick “queers” that were ruining America. The man could go on a gay bashing tirade for hours, enraging Liz as she silently sat plotting his demise with a smile on her face. An untraceable heart-stopping drug in his bourbon was her favorite fantasy.
At family dinners in her grandparent’s home, when her grandfather went off on one of his gay bashing rants, she would excuse herself from the table and go back into the kitchen where she would find the cutest young server girl and lure her into the bathroom. It would take only seconds for Liz to have her hand up the girl’s dress, pushing her underwear aside and fingering her to an explosive orgasm, before Liz would leave the girl in the bathroom, totally spent.
Upon returning to the dinner table, Liz would pick some morsel of food up from her grandfather’s plate and pop it into the old man’s mouth with the same fingers that had just been inside the serving girl. Richard Morgan van der Heyden III thought his oldest granddaughter was adorable and loved how she kidded around with him, popping food into his mouth.
Liz knew this was a perverse fuck you to her grandfather, but it gave her a thrill. The man was in control of her trust fund until her twenty-first birthday, and Zac Moore was all too happy to provide the perfect cover until that time to insure that Liz was not disinherited and written out of the old man’s will.
Even though Liz was “using” him for this purpose, Zac felt that Liz was the first female he’d ever known who didn’t “use” him sexually. She didn’t want to use him for all the things he’d been used for from the time he was thirteen years old. She just wanted to hang out with him. She cared about his happiness and always had his back. Liz van der Heyden was the best friend Zac Moore had ever known, and he was more than happy to help her protect her secret from her uber-bigoted grandfather until her trust was fully in her control. He was always respectfully affectionate to Liz in front of the old man, solidifying the ruse.
On this warm summer’s night, as she and Zac walked the streets of Paris’ Saint-Germain-des-Prés toward her parents flat on Rue du Dragon, Liz pondered the evening they had just spent at Full Moon, a private sex club in the 1st arrondissement.
In typical fashion, women were tripping over themselves to service the tall, handsome American and Zac, while enjoying the pleasure, remained detached. The happiest she’d seen him all evening was when he’d peered behind an animal print curtain and saw a colorfully inked French girl voraciously going down on her. Catching his eye, he looked happy, but it was happy to see her enjoying herself, more than happy to watch two women together — and that was the odd thing. Most men would give up their paychecks to watch two women getting it on. Zac didn’t seem even remotely turned on.
As well as she knew him, Zac remained an enigma in personal relationships. “There is something that has been on my mind for a long time,” she began.
Zac looked down at her. Liz was nearly a foot shorter than him. “Speak, woman.” He hit her with his beautiful smile.
“You are a total douche in all your relationships with women. Do you ever feel anything towards them?”
Looking straight ahead, Zac took a deep breath, seriously considering Liz’ question before answering. Shaking his head, “No. Not really.”
“Why? Why is that Zac?” Liz sounded confused and lost.
“Because they are just using me. They’re getting what they want.”
Putting a hand on his arm, sad for her friend, Liz shook her head, “But are you getting what you want?”
“Sure. I’m getting off.”
“And that is all you want?” Steering him toward a sidewalk table at a quintessential Parisian cafe, she asked, “Don’t you want to connect with someone?”
She had known Zac for close to a year, he lived directly across the hall in her dorm and they had become fast friends right from the start of freshman year. At first, she thought the handsome Californian was just a player and maybe a sex addict, but as they traveled through Europe, she was beginning to wonder if maybe he was protecting his heart. Something just wasn’t adding up with the Zac she knew and loved and his sexual proclivities.
“Now why would I want to do that?” He picked up a menu and focused on its options.
“Zac, you are such a sweetheart.”
“No, I’m not,” he cut her off, his gaze serious and suddenly cold.
“Yes, you are,” Liz protested, pushing her dirty blonde hair over one shoulder, undaunted by his cool air. “You’re a sweetheart to me. I know you would do anything for me.”
“Well, you’re my bud,” his eyes warmed, the glacial blue ice melting immediately.
“And that makes me so different than other females?” Liz looked away for a moment to order two cafe au laits and chouquettes, an irresistible, bite-sized Viennoiserie pastry. As usual, she shocked the waiter with her perfect French accent.
“Yeah, it does. Liz, you’re not using me. I’m not your boy-toy. I’m not someone you use for your pleasure regardless of what it does to me. It’s not about showing me off to gain some social standing.”
“Zac, c’mon, my family thinks you’re my boyfriend. So, in a sense, I am using you for a selfish need.”
“But that is different, Lizard. I’m happy to help you in this situation. I’m your friend - I’ve got your back. I hate that anyone would be prejudiced against you, especially your own family. No one should have an issue with you being happy. And you are not using me sexually with no regard to me.”