Carrie Minberg, Female, 20

	- Narrator, sophomore at Bitterwood

	- Beige, freckled skin, 5'6, 145lbs, curly back-length dark-red or blue hair

Elise, Female, 20

	- Sophomore at Bitterwood, Norwegian

	- Pale golden skin, 5'10, 155lbs, shoulder-length light blonde hair

Drew, Male, 20

	- Sophomore at Bitterwood, Scottish

	- Tanned beige skin, 6'1, 195lbs, short cropped strawberry-blond hair

By the time the first week was over, I'd mostly put Lawton behind me. Being thousands of miles away didn't hurt, and Elise was my rock and my best friend even when I wasn't in the mood for sex. We'd lost a couple of our classmates to transfers over the summer, leaving forty-five originals and two newcomers, a nineteen-year old boy from Wales, and a small, mousy girl from Italy.

Bitterwood had a pretty unique structure. The campus was ours during our two year stay, but there was another campus in Zurich where they hosted students that started in alternate years. The new enrollees were sent there, and we never saw them. It meant that the students had focus from resources and professors that lasted the entire stay, and everyone was essentially in the same classes.

There were exceptions. In my second year we were allowed to choose one elective course, and if at least three of us signed up, it was held. Otherwise, we'd be give other options and allowed to choose from them.

There were six options available, and the one that caught my eye was a literature course focused on Russian authors. I signed up, as did Elise, and we were joined by Sia, the Vietnamese girl, Gioung, a Chinese boy, and Tria, a blonde from Russia.

While I'd been there during the summer months, I'd read a lot of translations of Russian authors, and I found that I liked them a lot. The course started with Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov and would also include Radishchev's Journey from St. Petersburg to Moscow, and finished with Nabokov's Lolita. I was really looking forward to it, and the first week of classes made me very excited to learn more.

- - -

The first two months flew by. Elise and I were in love, kind to each other, our difficult summer behind us. She was getting away on weekends to practice on the slopes, and I often went with her. We had little time for each other those days, but I know she loved me being there as much as I loved going.

I started learning to play piano, and took lessons from two different professors who taught me during free time.

Tim left in the middle of the semester, his South African father ill. We hated to see him leave, but we understood that family came first. We lost Germond to an infection that had him sent back to Munich to be close to his family. When he left, Elise and I drank a couple of bottles of wine and made love while we remembered our one night fucking him together.

Fucking Germond. Since Lawton, I'd not felt a stir for a man's touch at all. None. Not until Elise and relived that night and I grew wet thinking about how good he'd felt inside me. It was something I'd never feel again, not if Elise and I stayed together, which I desperately hoped would happen. I loved her, and I was willing to give up penises to stay with her.

But I was bisexual. Am. Sorta. Boys and Girls and... I'm open to trying it from there. Then, though, I'd long before accepted that I drew no gender line around who I wanted to fuck, who I wanted to love. Elise and I talked after the Germond-inspired session.

“Do you think you'll miss it?”

She was confused, “what?”

“Cock.”

“Cock?”

“Cock.”

“Ah... um... I guess. I guess...”

“Me too.” She looked at me funny, I quickly added, “not saying I want it, just saying... I just... I enjoyed it, you did too, I know. I guess I'll miss it.”

It kinda cast a gloomy life over our future, this great mass of hard, swinging cocks that would be forever out of our reaches. It made an interesting image in my head, and I almost laughed.

“We could try something,” Elise said.

My mind race with what she might suggest. It wasn't what I expected.

“I'll buy a strapon... how's that sound. I could fuck you with it.”

I'd certainly seen a video or two, hadn't thought that we might get one. “Ok,” I said encouragingly, “that would be great. I want to fuck you too, you know. I get to wear the dick, too!”

She stuck out her tongue at me and a couple of nights later she brought home a five-inch strapon dildo, pink with black straps. I was impressed when she put it on and walked around with it bouncing, her smile proud and fun to watch.

I stripped and gave her 'head,' taking the pink dildo between my lips and sucking. Elise laughed and said things like, “suck my cock, Carrie. Suck that cock.”

She went down on me then, and I burned with desire as her tongue drove me higher. She didn't let me cum, flipped me over and pulled the dildo up to my labia.

It didn't work quite as well as advertised. Elise couldn't easily hold my hips and fuck me with it, she had to keep one hand on the strapon which tended to bend or flop out. Still, feeling Elise pounding against me, the dildo slipping in and out of my hole, brought back many memories of being fucked by Henri, by Michael, and I even let Lawton play in my mind.

I came around the dildo, Elise slapping my ass as she humped me. It felt great, the dildo a nice size the fit me just right, and if it had been a real cock in me, I'm sure I would have let it unload into my vagina.

I rode her with it later, and like her, I had trouble keeping the dong going. I fucked her doggy-style and, despite the issues with the dildo, she came twice while I pumped against her body.

- - -

The strapon didn't help my growing desire to be fucked by a man. Elise was amazing, even got better with the dildo, but it wasn't the same. It never felt like a man behind me, never felt like a warm, throbbing penis inside. The difference just made me want a cock in me that much more.

- - -

I didn't get to go with Elise to Oslo for the skiing trials, and I masturbated fiercely while she was gone, using the strapon dildo off the tethers, imagining several of my male classmates inside my vagina.

Elise earned a spot in the second and final trials to be held in March, again in Oslo. I was so proud of her. We fucked like rabbits the last month of the semester, with and without the dildo, and for a few weeks, I was able to push aside my urges for a cock.

- - -

Holiday break I went home and visited Mom. She was doing great, had been in a relationship for four months with a nice man who lived close to the base. I noticed she had a bit less time for me those weeks, and really, I was ok with it. Was happy for her.

I didn't run into Lawton, didn't try to, didn't know if he was even in town. I hoped I'd never see him again.

I did run into Michael, and after an hour of chatting over tea, I recognized warning sirens wailing in my head. I started to imagine him fucking me, looking at his smiling eyes, and I was strong enough to excuse myself and rub one out in the bathroom.

It helped, and I pushed the urges down again. It was close, but I'd handled it.

- - -

In January I returned to Bitterwood for what would be my final semester there. I had to start planning for my junior year, and I didn't even know where to start.

Naturally, Elise and I talked with certainty about where 'we' would go. There was no question about it. We would decide together and finish our degrees together. No question.

We looked at lots of options. Costs were a serious consideration, but the Dean assured us that Bitterwood had connections in many places and could ensure that any graduate would have access to funds to attend any university in the world. Graduating from Bitterwood was a ticket anywhere.

So we considered big schools. Ivy League. Stanford. Oxford. Top universities in Paris, Moscow, even Tokyo. It wasn't easy to decide. We were both literature majors, and those degrees were offered most everywhere. We ruled out non-English schools as I hadn't picked up anything useful in Amsterdam despite the plethora of multi-lingual speakers from many nations who lived there.

I had my favorites list down to three: Harvard, Brown, and Cal-Berkeley. Unfortunately, Elise topped off with Stanford, Colombia, and Oxford. I scratched Brown, added Oxford. She scratched Stanford and added Harvard.

So, we were stuck. Four schools to choose from, two we both liked, and two only on one list. We applied to all four and let fate determine who accepted us both.

I started asking Elise to fuck my ass with the dildo. It was a bit odd to feel slide in, but once she was stroking it, I loved it.

It didn't help my burning need to fuck a guy. I hated that I felt that way, but I was twenty years old, heading toward twenty-one. I was horny, all the time, and even when Elise left me satisfied, I found myself waiting until she was asleep to masturbate and think of Colt, or Ulv. Or of guys I'd never fucked, like Syd, the Indian from Bangalore, Drew, the tall, tanned Scot, even Zach, a fellow American with a wide butt and short legs. I brought back Germond to my fantasies.

I grew obsessed with it. I see that now. I made sure Elise came and was satisfied, and though I'd cum too, I saved the more powerful orgasms for when I was alone.

It created a distance that only I felt. I was consumed by something I couldn't have, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. It ebbed and flowed. Sometimes I felt in control, often, I did not.

It boiled over the week Elise was gone for her second trials.

I hung out that week with Sia, had gotten to know her better, and liked the soft-spoken Vietnamese girl. We played chess and ping pong, sang songs together. I was certainly attracted to her, but she didn't have a cock, as far as I knew, and there was no urge to suppress with her.

Drew was another story. He dropped in on a Wednesday as Sia, Khepri, and I sat around talking about an assignment that was due in a few days. His cropped red bangs bounced a bit above his tanned, freckled face. He tanned nicely for a Scot, and I felt myself holding just a second too long, searching his eyes and face.

Sia left to visit someone else, and Khepri went with her.

I only felt the nerves when he offered to grab a bottle of wine from his room. I'll never forgive myself for saying. “I'll go with you.”

I didn't consciously intend to do anything, or so I tell myself now. That part, I'm not really sure. I might have intended it. I certainly slid into his room easy enough and closed the door behind me. I wasn't thinking beyond the wine in those moments, but I did nothing to avoid having to face a choice I knew would be a hard one. It turned out that it was easier than it should have been.

He popped the cork and we sat back on his bed, talking about Elise, talking about his girlfriend, Ronica, one of the twin black girls from Virginia. It was easy conversation, and we quickly finished a bottle and started another.

I'll never blame Drew for what happened. Never. Not for what we did that night, at least. I know I was aware of where things were going and I didn't stop it. I encouraged it. I was the aggressor. I know I was. We drank the next bottle too quickly and he left to take a piss. He'd been a gentlemen, not made a move, nothing beyond the friendly flirting that most of us shared at Bitterwood.

It was me that moved myself to a point on the bed where he'd pretty much have to sit touching me. When he did, I caught his eyes, his smile, and I leaned into him, kissed him. He didn't stop me, didn't quite embrace it, but I had all the confirmation I needed to slide my hand into his pants.

He laid back, moaned lightly as I pulled his cock out and gave it a lick. Drew was long, six-to-seven inches, probably, not thick, not thin. I sucked him into my mouth and brought another moan to his lips.

I couldn't resist moving fast. What I craved, what I'd obsessed over was a cock in my puss, and I rose over him to mount him. I almost forgot a condom. He saved me as I paused over him, his fingers twitching as he slowly got the rubber on.

As soon as his hands were clear I slid him inside me and started to ride the hottest cock I think I'd ever had.

It was perfect, filled me, the tip punching my cervix with each trust. Drew felt so full in me, and his hips knew how to keep a rhythm I liked as I quickly climaxed on his cock.

I pulled him over me, laid back, and Drew fucked my pussy, strong and steady. I lost all sense of time with Drew pounding me. I loved it, never wanted it to stop. His hands found my tits and he sucked on them as his hips smacked against my thighs.

I came again as he picked up speed, close to me, my arms around his back, legs around his waist, his mouth breathing heavily in my ear. I whispered to him, “cum in me, Drew... cum in me...” I knew he wore a condom, but I was lost in that fantasy, felt the thrill of saying it out loud.

He tensed, raised up a bit on his hands, his eyes closed, his chest and stomach straining. Drew moaned loudly and ejaculated. I imagined I could feel his hot seed firing into my puss. I was lost in it. Lost. Overcome. So satisfied. I wrapped around him for a long moment before he began to soften and withdraw.

Drew sat back and I lay there, buzzed and euphoric, reached for another bottle of wine nearby and opened it, poured us both glasses.

He fidgeted after his orgasm faded, and I said, “what?”

“Ronica... Please... don't tell her. It would destroy us. I shouldn't have... Jeez, Carrie.. you practically forced yourself on me.”

“What?!”

“Just don't tell her, ok? Please. Else, I'll tell Elise...”

Elise... Fuck.

I was too drunk to process everything, and stumbled back to my bed and fell asleep.

- - -

The next morning was difficult. I was hungover, felt like crap. It hit me slowly what I'd done. Cheating on Elise again. I was slow to feel the shame, slow to acknowledge to myself what I'd craved, what I'd done wrong. I still had the urge for cock, and despite the way we'd left it the night before, Drew and I found ourselves sharing his bed again that night, and one more time the following day.

I was hooked, wanted to feel him inside me all the time. I got off so hard with Drew. I almost let him fuck me bareback the last time, but he covered himself too quickly. Fucking Drew was so different than with Elise, and I found myself looking for the holes in our relationship as a result.

Holes. Ironic word. I'd just shot gaping ones in our relationship because I couldn't stop myself from filling my own. I wasn't crushed, not yet. I felt guilty, but unlike the first time I cheated, something was broken, something from before that I'd not noticed. I couldn't put my finger on what.

The last two days before Elise's return, Drew and I didn't fuck, but he constantly asked me for reassurance about telling Ronica. I promised over and over that I wouldn't say anything, and I begged him not to tell Elise.

- - -

Elise came back late in the evening and I put all the emotional plaster I had left in me to cover the gut-wrenching poison I'd secretly brought to our relationship. We hugged and smiled, she'd made the Norwegian Olympic team. After hanging out with most of our classmates to celebrate her achievement, including Drew and Ronica, she and I went to the room and made love.

Made love, not just fucked. Her love for me poured out. I felt so surely how strongly she'd missed me, and I was honest in sending my own her way. I loved Elise, painfully sometimes.

What I'd done I was able to sink out of sight, somehow, and for a couple of weeks, it seemed like maybe things would be fine. We got acceptance letters back from Cal-Berkeley and Harvard, and Elise thought the choice was obvious. I agreed. We replied to Harvard and talked excitedly about going there.

The graduation was upon us and I couldn't believe my time at Bitterwood was over. Elise and I cried together and with our friends the last couple days. We threw big parties, some of them paid for by the school, and shared laughs, tears, and for some, a last quickie.

Two other classmates got into Harvard, Julens, the French girl, and Khepri, the Egyptian. I couldn't help feeling some relief that Ronica and her twin Rebecca had chosen a school in Spain, and Drew was set for Oxford.

We planned to spent the summer apart for a few weeks, followed by two weeks of backpacking across Greece, Italy, and Austria. We were both very excited for the fun ahead.

In my stomach, and in my emotions, a small fire still burned over Drew, and I knew I'd have to find a way to forget it somehow. It wasn't Drew himself, but what he gave me physically. I love it, hated myself for loving it, and despite what I knew would come, I felt sick that I'd always have that piece of me, toxic, waiting to destroy what I had with Elise.

It had already destroyed us, in a way. I just didn't know it, or how it would manifest.

Not yet.