Beer Goggles Anthology

by Anthology

  The full experience of college life, that’s how we ended up in the dorms not as roommates. Our parents were willing to get us an apartment together, but Monica, the social butterfly, thought having this time only once we needed to have every opportunity college offered.

  We have branched out and made friends like Rachel in this time and forcing ourselves out of our comfort zones.

  The full experience, that’s how she talked me into pledging.

  The full experience—that’s how she got me here tonight.

  I keep telling her when we graduate, life is my own experience and we’re not doing this leap first and ask questions later shit anymore.

  “It’s gonna be fun.” She tosses back her next shot. “We’ll be right over there and you know the signal if he’s a douche.”

  We’re at a local night club. It is Saturday night after mid-terms and we are all more than anxious to let loose. The place isn’t packed but it’s full. The lights are low and the bar is the place to be.

  I have twenty minutes left with my girls and then I have to meet my blind date at bar stool seven where he will be wearing dress pants, a white button up with two buttons undone and a gray sports coat.

  Fabulous, the name of the club we’re at has a dress code. Which is why my feet are screaming in my peep-toe red high heels that Monica paired with a royal blue dress and a three- inch-wide red belt under my ta-ta’s for emphasis.

  I look good. I feel good. I just don’t want to do the blind date. Unfortunately, we each have a rotation. If you’re single and part of Phi Delta Chi, then you get a profile on this app for dating at the college. The sisters all help build each profile and scan for potential dates. It’s part of our social stuff in keeping our sorority active and not becoming cliquey with one fraternity or the sorts.

  Tonight, I’m meeting my blind date.

  Schade

  Fabulous, the local hot spot is thumping tonight. Me and my boys, Charlie and Theo, throw back our Fireball shots while I nod my head to the steady beat from the bass.

  I’m four shots in when Theo slaps me on the shoulder letting me know it’s time to head to stool seven.

  “Y’all better have my back! Don’t you let this shit get fuzzy. I don’t want to look at this broad like she’s Merry Christmas tonight only to wake up and find it’s Trick or Treat!” I tell them both as they laugh.

  “Pussy is pussy, it’s all a present and pretty in pink.” Theo says while giving me one last shoulder squeeze.

  Charlie takes a serious look to his face. “Fuck no it’s not. If her teeth are jacked up, you raise three fingers in the air and we’re swoopin’ in to save ya, brother!”

  “What does a chick’s grill have to do with pussy?” Theo asks and I can’t help but wonder where Charlie came up with this myself.

  “Look at it like this: broad doesn’t brush her teeth, she ain’t cleaning top to bottom.”

  “Man, I’m buzzin’ don’t kill it with dirty pussy.”

  Charlie shakes his head. “Had this chick once, name was Sylvia. Bitch was sucking my cock so hard and so good I thought she would suck my balls right off me. Till she released me with a pop just before I could blow my load.”

  “Okay,” I say waving my hand for him to continue.

  “She had to stop and fix her teeth, her fucking dentures! I was nineteen, Sylvia was only twenty and had full set top and bottom dentures.”

  “Well that’s awkward as fuck, but what did that have to do with her pussy? They don’t make glue in pussy,” Theo says still not being shaken by the story.

  Charlie looks down. “Bitch asked me to return the favor. I couldn’t get past the odor and threw up all over her twat. I shoulda stopped at the teeth. Schade, if she’s got bad teeth, you get the fuck out.”

  “Way to kill my mood, man.” I say before giving them each a quick handshake thing we do and settling in on bar stool seven.

  If tonight wasn’t bad enough on its own, now apparently dental hygiene is more than a clean mouth—it represents a clean body too.

  Chapter Three

  Merry Christmas to Schade

  Aryn

  “No! Just no! Ain’t happenin’,” I practically scream to Rachel when I see who sits down on bar stool seven. “You gotta take one for the team, Rachel!”

  “He’s even wearing glasses like the profile,” Monica chimes in, too drunk to care a single bit about my adamant dejection.

  I wish my buzz were as strong as hers. Because seeing him, well, it’s quickly sobering me up.

  “You may swoon over a man in glasses like he’s Clark fuckin’ Kent, but I do not. That’s Schade ‘The Dickhead’ Britton. He is douchebag central’s King Commander.”

  “I think you’re being a bit dramatic,” Rachel says seriously while leaning against the wall like she’s holding it up instead of the other way around.

  “You’ve not had enough to drink!” Monica decides and quickly grabs a shot from the waitress walking by.

  “Aftershock!” Rachel squeals in delight.

  “How fitting,” I grumble before tossing it back, then grabbing Monica’s shot and downing it in one gulp as well.

  “Atta’ girl! Now put on your beer goggles and go rock that man’s world!” Monica cheers me on.

  Letting the alcohol burn on the way down I smirk. “Beer goggles with liquor lenses!” I laugh at my own joke and they join me.

  Schade Britton does look delicious tonight in his slacks and button up shirt. I close my eyes and I can imagine unbuttoning those buttons one at a time revealing the muscular physique beneath. The man may be a dickhead, but he’s sexy as sin. My body tingles wondering what it would be like to have a single night, no holds barred with the asshole. With all those muscles and his attitude, I can’t help but wonder if he would rock my world like no other.

  Feeling like maybe I could make the best of this, I march forward.

  I almost fall on my ass twice because alcohol and heels don’t mix but who gives a shit! If Schade decides I’m not it for the night then so be it. My girls are here and we’ll have some fun. There is one thing I know: this is not going to be long-lasting.

  Schade Britton is nothing more than a one-night stand…if I even give him that.

  Schade

  “Hello,” a voice purrs from over my shoulder and my cock hardens instantly. What the fuck! I didn’t expect to have this kind of reaction.

  I came here tonight knowing nothing. Theo offered to read me the profile but honestly, it didn’t matter and doesn’t matter. I’m stuck going through with this even if she has three hands and a dick that’s bigger than mine between her legs.

  I’m a lot of things, but never do I back down on a dare or back out of a bet—win, lose, or draw.

  Refusing to turn and look to the woman who matches that voice, I pick up the Jack and Coke I just ordered, and take a drink. Only then do I turn around.

  Aryn Cole stands beside me looking like the best damn Christmas present I could ever fucking ask for. Her long dark hair comes down in waves with the red tips ending at the belt line under her pert tits. The way the scoop neck of her royal blue dress comes down accentuating her cleavage makes my dick strain painfully against my zipper.

  What’s worse, I know I won’t wake up tomorrow feeling like it’s trick or treat with the joke being on me. No, Aryn Cole has a natural beauty she doesn’t even know she has.

  I can’t speak.

  All words and breath leave me as I watch her chest rise and fall in her own breathing pattern. Leaning in, I start to run my tongue over the seam formed in her cleavage, but decide against it at the last second. Taking this opportunity to be so close I inhale the scent of her floral perfume before landing a small peck on her cheek.

  “Hello, Aryn.” I greet keeping my face close to hers, dropping my voice into a deep baritone as I speak just against her ear making sure my hot breathes hit her neck. “You look amazing.”

  “You look like an asshole in glasses, Schade,” she replies wi
th disdain and alcohol on her breath.

  I back away, relaxing back on my stool and downing my drink. Her honesty takes me by surprise.

  Aryn is sweet. She’s friendly, gorgeous, and always willing to help anyone. It stings that she thinks I’m an ass.

  Truth is, I am an ass.

  I’m twenty-two years old and no where ready to be tied down with any woman. This is college. I am here to get my degree and go on to train in occupational therapy. I have a goal.

  I also have my current income which is based on a lifestyle. Before college, my parents saw me going down the wrong path. I was smoking weed and honestly considering harder drugs. My parents signed me up for an obstacle course training camp.

  This is where I was first introduced to Parkour. Now four years later, I have an energy drink sponsor and I travel for shows, videos, and to tackle different courses with my team and as an individual. Parkour is not competitive like traditional sports.

  In fact, I was trained in a traditional camp based on the original purpose of Parkour which is about art and discipline. There isn’t an individual who will rank the best in a course, but rather who can complete it. We all win because we all push ourselves.

  Each person tackles the courses their way with their vision for the obstacles. No two people will do it the same so is it fair to say one is better than the other.

  Don’t get me wrong, there are competitions and yes I’ve won a few, but for me it’s not about being the best, it’s about being my best.

  And tonight, I’m going to be my best at showing Aryn Cole—sweet, seductive Aryn—that I’m not the asshole she thinks I am.

  No, I’m the asshole to rock her fucking body…for tonight.

  Chapter Four

  Get a Room

  Aryn

  He smells like man and shampoo. He leans in too close and kisses my cheek. My entire body heats from top to toe. With the alcohol well in my system now, I’m relaxed, warm, and wanting.

  More than anything, I am screwed.

  The attraction I have had for Schade has been with me since freshman year when we had orientation together. I bumped into him dropping my purse and all of its contents spilling out everywhere. Like a gentleman, he stopped and helped me pick everything up to my embarrassment.

  Then he stood up, looked me in the eyes, acted like there was something in the moment only to blink and then yell at me to watch where I was going.

  Damn dickhead.

  Leaning back on his stool, he pats the empty one beside him and I shake my head no.

  To my surprise he stands, towering over me, and takes my hand. I should pull away. I don’t.

  I should run as fast and as far as my heels will take me.

  Again, I don’t.

  Nope, stupidly, I let him guide me. And I follow like a trained damn dog and we do this walk all the time. Leading me to the dance floor, he doesn’t speak and like some love struck teenager with her first crush, I follow.

  The music is loud, the bass pumps, and Schade turns me around so my back is to his front and he moves. With Schade’s hands on each of my hips, he sets the pace, the rhythm and two become one as he controls us both.

  My God, does the man move.

  In seconds, my firm resolve crumbles and my body melts into his. The song switches to something a little slower and I grind my ass against him feeling his hard length. Reaching up behind me, I run my hands through the hair on the back of his head. He grips me tighter and I relish the feeling of his hard body against mine.

  Schade drops his head to my neck and his hands come around my waist just under my breasts. Damn the belt because I can’t feel him.

  And in this moment, I want to feel all of Schade I can.

  The more we dance the more I realize the man can move and I am more turned on by the second.

  The alcohol flows through me.

  That’s what I tell myself as I turn around and face him. The leverage from my heels is all I need to tip my head up and press my lips to his. On a growl, he opens his mouth.

  I slide my tongue inside.

  And I devour.

  Yes, I devour him. The taste of his drink mixes with mine and I find myself intoxicated on Schade Britton.

  This is dangerous. I’m too drunk to care.

  Schade

  I feel a squeeze to my shoulder and the tell-tale weight of the keys being dropped into my coat pocket.

  Even with this, I don’t stop kissing her.

  Kissing, the ultimate seduction.

  Do women realize what kissing shows a man?

  The way you kiss defines how you fuck. Sloppy kiss means a sloppy fuck. A chick who can slurp and slobber while taking your tongue will also do it when taking your cock.

  Prim and proper, soft and delicate means missionary while wrapped up tight because she won’t tolerate a mess.

  A mix, a woman who can take as much as she can give, who can keep her mouth moist without making it feel like your tongue is in a swimming lesson is perfect. It means she will go from bottom to top to bottom again and not care if you fuck her against a wall, on the couch, or in a bed.

  Aryn Cole can kiss.

  She takes charge and then retreats. She’s a temptress. My hands roam and squeeze the globes of her ass to which she lets out a moan that I swear vibrates all the way to my cock.

  Theo and Charlie, no doubt watching this make-out session, know I want nothing more than to take her back to smash room which is what they left me the key to.

  The one thing with being up for date rotation is smash room, or fuck room is cleaned from top to bottom and ready for whatever brother to bring his chick back to without interruption. Really it’s a small shed type building that’s insulated, heating and air, full electricity and a small converted bathroom in the backyard of the frat house.

  It serves one purpose.

  Fuck without intrusion.

  I didn’t think tonight would land me there, but the way Aryn is kissing me, I don’t know if I can make it home before I bust a nut.

  A throat clears beside us and I feel Aryn pull away. I look and see the bouncer to the club has a hand on her shoulder. Immediately, I want to punch the asshole for touching her.

  “You two need to come up for air and consider a room.” The brute says sternly.

  Aryn laughs and it goes straight to my dick. The throbbing hurts so much I consider running to the bathroom to yank one out before taking her home. My balls already feel on the brink of explosion.

  “We’ve been told to get a room.” Aryn smiles at me.

  “Got one, sweets, wanna use it?” I ask praying she says yes or I swear my balls will fall off.

  She bites her bottom lip like she has to think about it. Looking over my shoulder to someone else, I fear this is going to be the worst rejection I’ve ever felt in my life. Turning my head, I find Monica giving her the thumbs up.

  Thank fuck for a hot best friend who gives the green light.

  I don’t know Monica well, but I do know she’s the reason Theo really didn’t want to go on this date tonight. He wants her and was happy he wouldn’t be seen out with another chick so he could try to make his play.

  Seeing him dancing beside her, I think tonight might be good for us both.

  Aryn surprises me grabbing my hand and leading me out of the club.

  Hell, she could grab my dick and show the whole place she’s leading me by it and I wouldn’t care. Between my drunken state and need to release, I’d marry the woman if it meant I could be in her tight heat in the next hour.

  Chapter Five

  Hide and Freak

  Aryn

  Cab rides are something I hate. In fact, I’m happy to be Sober Sister to drive everyone to avoid them. Tonight, Schade and I both have been drinking too much to drive.

  As I settle in the back seat, my skin tingles and my insides quiver in anticipation of getting lost in Schade for the night.

  Monica calls me a kissing whore. It’s true. I love to make-out. I’m n
ot a tease. If it feels right, I’ll have sex.

  Tonight with Schade, it feels right.

  “Your place or somewhere else?” he asks.

  “You have somewhere else besides a dorm room?”

  “Yeah, at the frat house.”

  “Is it clean?” I blurt out.

  Schade laughs and it’s the best sound I swear I have ever heard. “Yeah, we pay into a fund and get it professionally cleaned.” He kisses me. “Sheets too,” he whispers.

  The cab driver interrupts us. “Where to?”

  Schade rattles off the address while my eyes roam to the bulge in his pants.

  Impressive.

  It’s also good to know he’s as turned on as I am. It would be embarrassing to know my insides are liquid and he’s not struggling with his own want too.

  As soon as the car pulls away, his lips are on mine. His hand trails up my inner thigh teasing my soft skin. He reaches my panties and doesn’t slide right inside like I thought. No, Schade rubs his finger slowly over my panties.

  I shimmy seeking more contact knowing my panties are soaked from all the kissing at the club.

  Reaching out, I stroke his dick over his pants only for Schade to pull away and remove his hand from between my legs to cover my hand to stall my movements.

  “Sweets, you gotta stop or I’m gonna blow all over my pants. It’ll be a mess,” Schade whispers and we’re both panting.

  The car stops and we climb out. I’m not the least bit graceful. In fact, I’m pretty sure my panties were playing hide and peek as I climbed out. I laugh as Schade tosses money at the cab driver before leading me to a side fence and a back shed.

  I should be mortified. I mean, come on, he’s Schade Britton and he’s taking me to a shed.

  Except he opens the door and it’s been converted into a small home of sorts. There is a room separated out with a door open showing a toilet and shower. The center space is filled with a full-size bed and pillows.