Paula Cash - Closet Queen

She burned to get her hands on Salt, but forced herself to go to her Art Appreciation classes, then spent the rest of the day in the library and the Student Union building. It would be best to catch Tom alone, in his room, where Salt probably was…

She reached the Sig house about dusk and found it to be a beautiful old mansion, surrounded by trees and shrubs, warm and hospitable looking from the outside. Frat boys came in for the dinner hour and there were lights on the lower floors and muffled sounds of vigorous male voices as she tarried on the lawn. So many high animal spirits. In a way she hated to go in and face the gauntlet of all those male voices, bodies, staring eyes.

A young thin man drifted up from the campus and smiled shyly at her.

"Are you a Sig?" she asked before he could find some opening gambit.

"Yeah." His eyes drank in her beauty in appreciation. "Can I help.”

He was a nice, shy type, not one of those galloping monsters she'd seen go in, shouting and laughing.

"I'm-a girl friend of Tom Talbot's. I-I'd like to sneak into his room and leave his birthday present. Then I'll call him later and it'll knock him out. But I don't want to burrow through a crowd of guys, you know.”

The young man looked disappointed, but his eyes lit up. "Sure. That's his room, right up there, third floor, at the corner. By the big tree." The idea of sneaking in a present appealed to him. "Hey, if you're any good at climbing I'll bet you could go right up that oak. It has real big branches.”

"What?”

"Why not?" he said. "I'd give you a boost and you could walk to the window practically. Old Spider, Tom's roommate, does it all the time for kicks.”

She stared at the tree and the window. It could be opportunity knocking. She felt a pulse of excitement. She might even be able to get into the room, find Salt and leave again, no one the wiser. It looked like an easy climb.

"Okay. You give me a boost-uh-Mr.-”

"Harold. What's your name?”

"Uh, Abby." She took him by the arm and hustled him over to the tree. "Remember, don't tell anybody. Don't tell Tom especially.”

"Right, Abby. Good luck." He presented his bent knee and locked hands and she went up easily into the lowest branch.

"Don't bother to wait," she called down, delighted with the adventure. "Getting up's hard, but I can swing down all right.”

He nodded and waved, looking up at her, glasses shining. A very nice young man. He went on in to the Sigma house. It puzzled him that the girl didn't have a present with her, but maybe it was concealed about her person. More important, Harold was making points with Tom Talbot, who was a big man with the Sigs. Harold's position in the fraternity was not strong, so it helped to do Tom Talbot a favor…

Cheryl stepped from the thick tree branch onto the window ledge and entered the third floor room without any trouble, since it was open a few inches at the bottom. The room was empty, as her instincts had told her it would be. Tom had yet to return from campus and his job, while the roommate was either downstairs feeding his face, or off somewhere. No one in sororities or fraternities ever spent the dinner hour alone in an upstairs room; it was a social time.

The room was surprisingly like the one she shared with Abby at the Delt house, not only in size but in appearance. One side was neat and reserved, the other chaotic. There was a made bed, a work desk with books and papers neatly arranged, a bureau free of clutter and a closet with clothes carefully hung. It had to be Tom's side, because the other was marked by a crude poster on the wall: SPIDER'S WEB.

That side of the room was dominated by the most obscene poster Cheryl had ever seen-a blow up of two heads, a woman sucking off a man's cock. The girl's hair fell forward to conceal her features, but the thick cock, stiff and buried in the girl's mouth as she distended her lips, was all too clear. Cheryl felt a tingle down below. Crude but effective!

Her mind skipped over the rest-unmade bed with books on it, clutter on the floor, clutter on the second desk, clutter in the closet. Spider, apparently, never got his act together. There was no doubt as to what Spider's act was. Two crossed whips hung on one spot of the wall, bearing the legend: LOVE 'EM, LICK 'EM! Most fascinating of all was the row of small objects along the edge of Spider's desk. Cheryl had seen pictures of these objects, and, long ago, her mother kept one in her bureau.

Vibrators. Cock-shaped objects, made of plastic, four of them in a neat row. Cheryl felt another tingle in her cunt as she stared at the silent, still sex gadgets. Each was bigger than the last, both longer and thicker. The smallest was about four inches high and thin. The largest must be eight inches or more and fat.

With an effort Cheryl put her mind to the search of the room, looking for Salt. She heard the hum of life downstairs, while feeling no fear of interruption. The sound was almost lulling. She found it absorbing to dig into the contents of the boys' room, like taking a peek into their secret lives. The room reeked of maleness and she got a little dizzy, fantasizing what could happen to a poor cunt trapped in a place like this.

No Salt, She spent a good half hour turning, over every object in the room, looking under beds, into any spot large enough to conceal the stolen figurine. Absolutely no luck. Damn!

She ended up at the desk by the vibrators. Ugly things! Used only by older women whose husbands had lost interest in them, or unmarried, unloved and lonely older women. It would take the warped mind of a man to think up such a dumb imitation of one of life's finest objects-a living male prick! She looked inside each one but found nothing but batteries, of course. She turned on the base of the largest one and felt it vibrate and hum wickedly in her hand. My God, think of sticking something like that inside your body! Her whole belly tingled.

She made a pass with it between her legs and received a shocking, thrilling spike of delight as the machine burrowed against her cunt. Holy Maloney, it felt great even through her pants and panties.

Resolutely, she turned it off, put it back in its place, and heaved a sigh. She went to the window. She had no desire to be caught in Tom's room; he might get the wrong idea! She turned to look back over the room, hating to leave.

She went back to Spider's desk, picked up the smallest vibrator, and used it between her legs. The poor little four-inch thing was cute. It felt good, but nothing like the large one. She turned on two of them, holding one in each hand, and rubbed one on her cunt while pressing the other in her crack to tingle her asshole. Her pelvis automatically canted up and she undulated obscenely, gasping a little. Wow! These things really beat finger masturbation.

Wouldn't it be great to give herself a job without the boys knowing and slip on out the window. No-it would be better to do herself and leave something behind, some mysterious thing so they'd know a woman had been there-but not who. Her panties! Get 'em good and wet and drape 'em over the vibrator display.

Chuckling in delight, Cheryl stripped down her pants and tossed them aside. Playing a trick like this made the use of a vibrator on her flesh okay. Fun for her, fun for them later trying to figure out who the panties belonged to. But of course Harold would tell Tom. then Cheryl's face got a big grin. The name she'd given Harold had been "Abby" not her own! Beautiful!

She sat in Tom's big, comfortable leather chair and experimented. The six inch one was just about perfect. It slid suggestively between her golden thighs, pressing in to the sheer panties like a blind cock, seeking a pink girl slit.

"Just do your thing, honey," she whispered to the machine, "let mama do the rest.”