In two weeks Alyna will graduate with a bachelor’s degree in film studies from UCLA. This never crosses my mind as she’s sucking my cock an hour before we’re supposed to go pick up her cap and gown at the UCLA bookstore.
The blow job started with me asking her to suck my cock, which doesn’t strike me as out of the ordinary until I realize I’ve never had to ask before. This realization would bother me significantly if it wasn’t immediately overshadowed by something I find vastly more important and disturbing as I blow my load—she does not swallow. Not only does she not swallow, but she doesn’t even let me finish in her mouth. Instead, as I’m about to cum, she takes my dick out of her mouth and jerks me off in a dozen or so quick strokes that send streams of my semen all over her hands and my dick and balls.
Although she’s never done this before and I much prefer her normal technique of swallowing my cum and then sucking my cock for roughly thirty postejaculatory seconds in order to rid my dick of any semen that might not have gone down her throat initially, I have no intention of bringing it up with her until she says, “Oooh, you made a mess.”
I have to say, “No, you made a mess.”
“Hey, I got you off, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but you usually swallow.”
“I know.”
In the least accusatory tone I can muster, I say, “So why didn’t you?”
She says, “I don’t know. I just didn’t feel like it.”
There are four explanations I can conjure for what she just said: (1) She’s fucking somebody else whose semen she’s more interested in swallowing than my own; (2) she’s lost her taste for semen altogether, which seems unlikely based on several months of evidence to the contrary; (3) she just didn’t want to do it before she gets her cap and gown, which makes no sense but seems plausible for a girl; or (4) she’s lost her will to suck dick, which is a more serious issue and one I’m not willing to entertain.
I accept her answer at face value and walk to my bathroom to mop up my seed with toilet paper, which takes me longer to get out of my pubic hair than I would have imagined.
When we get to the bookstore, there are roughly seventy-five to a hundred other students also there to get their caps and gowns. I overhear some of the following dialogue:
“I have a few interviews lined up, but nothing that I’m really excited about.”…“Yeah, we’ll probably get engaged over the summer and then start looking for a house next year after we’ve saved up some money.”…“Dude, I don’t give a fuck. Tell him I’ll pay for two kegs and he can pick up the other two…. “I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about going to grad school.”…“Moving in with my parents.”…“My uncle has a houseboat he said I could live on for a while.”
As Alyna and I approach the table where a fat bitch wearing glasses sits sorting through cap and gown orders, a semi-hot bitch wearing gym attire stops us with, “Hey, Alyna.”
Alyna says, “Hey, Jenny,” then introduces us and explains that Jenny was her freshman year roommate. Judging from Alyna’s response to her greeting I don’t think they’ve talked much since freshman year.
Jenny says, “So can you believe we’re graduating?”
Alyna says only semi-patronizingly, “It’s pretty crazy.”
Jenny doesn’t catch it. She says, “I know. I thought I was gonna be here for freaking ever.” Then she asks me, “Are you graduating this year, too?”
I say, “No,” and wonder if I really look enough like a college student to warrant that question from her.
Jenny says, “So what’re your plans after the big day?”
Alyna says, “I don’t know. My parents are coming out here…,” which is something I remember she told me about a few days ago but I had forgotten until now. She continues, “…We’ll probably go out and eat or something.”
Jenny laughs. “No, silly, I mean what are you going to do with your life? Do you have a job lined up or anything?”
Alyna says, “No, we haven’t really figured out what we’re going to do yet,” and they keep talking but the word “we” is ringing so loud in my ears that I can’t hear what else they say.
It’s true “we’ve” never talked about what “we’re” going to do after graduation, but “I’m” not going to do anything significantly different from what “I’m” currently doing, which is wish I was fucking Alyna instead of listening to her talk to this bitch who has somehow posed a question that elicited the “we” response from her.
I don’t particularly dislike the fact that she used the term “we” when talking about the possible direction of her future, but I’m far from being comfortable with it. I wonder how much further down the road she has thought about our relationship beyond the next time we’re going to fuck.
The ringing dies down in time for me to hear Jenny say, “Well, good luck,” and although this wish of good fortune most likely has nothing to do with me, I wonder if the part of the conversation I missed included Alyna detailing her plan to somehow force me into marriage.
Jenny leaves, we pick up Alyna’s cap and gown, and just as we’re leaving the bookstore she says, “What do you think we should do?”
I say, “I think we should go back to my apartment and fuck.”
She says, “I mean when I graduate.”
I say, “I think you should do whatever you want to.”
We don’t talk any more about it as we walk back to my apartment, where I steer our foreplay in the direction of a blow job and contemplate attempting to see if Alyna will refuse to swallow my load again, but my urge to fuck her in the ass wins out and she cums bent over a chair as I hold one of her legs up in the air and ram my cock into her ass a little harder than I think I ever have before.