Watch Party

"Looks like we're the last ones here," Mel says as she comes into the kitchen.

I'm washing dishes and handing them to Sara—this is her apartment, and she's the host for the evening. She dries them, putting them away in their various cabinets.

Sara turns to Mel. "Evan?"

"I just helped him into an Uber. Poor kid's definitely gonna feel it tomorrow."

There's something charming about Mel calling one of her classmateskid.

This evening was a watch party for Sara's latest performance. She was the lead in the big spring production the school puts on each year. The professional recording was posted on YouTube, and that's how we watched it, on Sara's TV.

I wasn't able to attend the live shows due to a personal matter. Nothing too serious, in the large scheme of things. I caught up with Sara a few days ago and told her how much I regretted missing the performance. Gave enough detail so she knew I wasn't just saying it.

"I think I heard something," Sara had said, staying vague.

"Everyone said you were spectacular."

"That's just a vicious rumor." She laughed, but I noticed a hint of blush in her cheeks.

There was an awkward beat.

"Oh!" Sara said, like she'd just remembered. "We're having a watch party at my place on Saturday. A bunch of the cast will be there. You should come!"

I'm faculty at the university. I have a very strict, self-imposed policy about interacting with students. I may be one of the younger professors, but I don't hang out with them. Don't "friend" them on social media. I'm supportive and personable, but I keep them at arm's length. Stay guarded. Students enjoy my classes, and I enjoy teaching, but I've heard through the grapevine that I'm a bit of an enigma. I like it that way.

"Ah..."

"Please? It was a really great show. Everyone was amazing. I know you'll enjoy it. It's just a watch party—nothing crazy. Here," she said, pulling out her phone. "What's your cell?"

I gave her a look.

"I could get it off the school website."

"It's there?"

"Yup."

"Well, I guess... okay."

I recited the digits. She tapped away on her phone, and soon I heard a brightding—I'd received a text.

"Just sent you my address. Six-thirty on Saturday. We'll start the video around seven."

I gave her a grimaced smile. "I'll try to make it."

Sara laughed and walked away, heading somewhere with purpose.

***

It was awkward when I arrived. Sara was surprised and delighted to see me, some flush in her cheeks. Everyone else looked kind of shocked. Conversation pretty much stopped as I stood in the entrance to the apartment, holding a six pack of craft beer.

Mel took control, walking over and taking my arm. "Okay! Nothing to see here! Just taking the professor to the alcohol," she announced, leading me to the kitchen. There was some nervous laughter. It wasn't long before the room returned to a healthy volume of chatter.

In the kitchen, Mel pointed to the six pack, asking if I wanted one. She used "professor" again. I told her that since she'd be graduating in a few weeks, she could use my first name. I told Sara the same.

Mel is short for Melanie, but no one calls her that. She's finishing her master's degree. Sara's a senior, wrapping up her undergrad. She's impressive—mature for her 21 years. Knowing they were about to enter the world as young professionals, I was comfortable being on a first-name basis with both of them.

We watched the show. Everyone whooped and applauded during the curtain calls, some still wiping away tears. On the video, Sara came out to take her bow. The cheers in the apartment were deafening. I didn't realize how hard I'd been clapping until I felt the sting in my hands after I stopped.

Sara's a natural on stage, but she doesn't just coast on talent. She works hard at her craft, and it shows. I'm impressed with how down-to-earth she is. Definitely not the typical narcissistic performer. She's comfortable in her skin and carries herself with quiet confidence. When she's not performing, she comes off as just a regular, grounded person.

Sara and I had been chatting amiably when Mel came in to give the update on Evan and the party's attendance.

Now Mel says, "I think there are a few more glasses in the living room. I'll get 'em." She heads back out to collect the stray glasses she suspects are hiding.

"You were really great," I say, nodding toward the living room TV.

"Thanks!"

I catch Sara's eye, making sure I have her attention. "I mean it. It was a terrific performance."

She sees I'm serious. Gives a slight bow of her head. "Thank you."

We look at each other for a moment. It's nice.

"Think these are it!" Mel returns, holding three more glasses—one with a substantial amount of lipstick on it.

"Thatwould be Grace's," Sara says, taking the glass from Mel with forefinger and thumb like it's a dead bug. She hands it to me.

It takes some vigorous scrubbing to get the lipstick off, but I manage. I hand it back to Sara to dry.

I wipe my hands. Suck in an exaggerated breath and say, "Well, I should get going."

"No!" they both yell simultaneously, like we're in the middle of another production.

"Stay for one more drink," Mel says.

"It's still early," Sara adds.

"I'm just getting used to calling you by your first name!" says Mel.

I look at both of them. "Isit still early?"

"Yeah it is!" Mel says, loud enough for a sporting event.

"Well... okay."

They both cheer.

Sara pulls two fresh glasses from the cabinet and pours white wine into both. She hands one to Mel. I grab a bottle of beer from the fridge. I pop the cap off by leaning the top against the counter, holding it with one hand, and slapping it with the other. The top spins away with a sharpphist.Both Sara and Mel nod in approval.

They head out ahead of me to the living room. I can't help myself and watch both of their behinds as they go in. It's an impressive sight.

Mel is tall and slender. If I had to guess, probably my exact height—five ten. Tonight she's wearing tight jeans rolled halfway up her calves. A loose white blouse. She has long, curly brown hair—the kind that turns heads when she walks into a room. She's attractive, with bright green eyes, an aquiline nose, and a small mouth above a delicate chin. Her fingers are long, with unpolished nails that taper just past the tips. Her thighs are muscular, like she must have spent a lot of time riding horses growing up. Her bum is taught with just enough substance to it. The most impressive part of her body are her breasts. There's no way around it—she's got big tits. Not so big they look fake, or out of place on her frame. Just, well, big. They are so distracting that I have to consciously avoid staring at them. It's like they're a test. How many different ways can I avoid looking at her amazing rack.

Sara, on the other hand, is almost exactly the opposite. She also has wonderfully heavy breasts that match her wide hips and substantial rear-end. She's wearing a simple, knee-length black dress with short, high sleeves that complement her exaggerated hourglass figure. Sara keeps her hair short. It's black, which contrasts with her pale skin, and styled so that it tufts out in a fun, random, haphazard kind of way. She has small hands with nails she keeps short—and, like Mel, without polish. And then there are her large, brown, downturned eyes—one of her best features. A button nose and rosebud lips, naturally red enough to not require lipstick.

I notice that neither Mel nor Sara wears much makeup, if any. But both have on winged eyeliner. So common, I'm starting to think for women, it's the law.

As I follow them into the living room, I reflect on my "no socializing with students" policy. I'm not as conflicted about hanging out with these young, beautiful women for a few reasons: One, I'm enjoying their company. They're both smart and talented. Two, they were never actually students of mine—we got to know each other through my connections with the theater department. And finally, they're both graduating. I'll never be in a position where I have to give either of them a grade.

We sit in the living room—Mel and me at either end of the couch, Sara in a chair opposite, a small coffee table between us.

"Did you hear about Mel?" Sara says. "She got a gig in New York. Working on Broadway, the lucky bitch."

She says this with love.

I turn to her. "Mel, that's amazing!"

Mel lifts her wine glass and toasts the air. "Yes!Iam amazing."

Her master's degree is in theatrical lighting design. Not only impressive for her to get a job in that storied bit of real estate, but even more extraordinary that she landed it as a woman in a male-dominated field.

Mel makes a dismissive gesture. "It's a low-level position. Gotta start somewhere."

"Still. You must be excited."

She smiles. "I've got a couple of summer festivals to get through. But then I'm off to the Big Apple."

"How about you?" I ask Sara.

"Couple festivals of my own. Then audition, audition, audition."

"It won't take long. We're going to be hearing a lot about you."

"Yas, queen!" Mel barks.

"How about you—" I can tell Sara was about to sayprofessorbut stops herself and uses my first name instead.

"I've got the summer off. The world is my oyster." I toast the air with my beer bottle, matching Mel.

"Nice," they both say, drawing the word out. Then laugh at the unintentional coordination.

Mel's eyes catch on my hand as I set the bottle down on the coaster. "Wow. You've got big hands."

"Do I?"

I know I do. I'm self-conscious about it.

"Yeah! Let me see."

Mel thrusts out her right hand, palm facing me, and spreads her fingers. "People always sayIhave big hands."

I'm a bit reluctant, but I raise my left hand to mirror hers and place it against her palm. It's close, but my fingers extend a little beyond hers. The palm is no contest.

"Wow," Sara says, leaning forward. "Your handsarehuge."

I keep my hand pressed against Mel's for just an extra beat. It sends a tingle through me.

"Now I'm embarrassed," I say—but they can tell I don't mean it. Mel takes her time pulling her hand back. She places it on the couch cushion, narrowing the gap between us.

Mel gives me a look—like she's evaluating me. She raises one eyebrow. "You know there are lots of girls at school who have crushes on you."

"Mel!" Sara hoots.

Mel turns to her. "What? It's true."

I slap my hands on my thighs and go to stand. "Well! That's my cue to leave," I say with a nervous laugh.

"No, please don't," Sara says. "Mel just likes to make people uncomfortable."

"It's working."

"And as a matter of fact," Mel continues, full steam ahead, "I know one of them quite well."

"Mel," Sara warns.

"One of them is sitting right over there." Mel juts her chin towards Sara.

"Oy!"

"O-kayee," I say, trying to get up again.

"Sit down. You're loving this," Mel says.

"Really not."

Sara's embarrassed but covers it with mock indignation. "You're the one always saying how hot he is!"

Mel stares back at Sara, throwing her thumb in my direction. "Well, justlookat him!"

"Ladies, this has been a lovely evening." Now I'm getting up for real. I check for my keys and start for the door.

Sara gets up and follows me over. She gently touches my arm, standing close. "Please don't go. We want you to stay." She takes a beat. Swallows. "I'dlike you to stay."

Jesus Christ, those eyes staring back at me. This woman is going to be a star. I hold her gaze a moment. Then look over at Mel, who has a satisfied grin on her face. She's leaning back on the couch, knees just a little too far apart for polite company. Right hand still on the couch cushion with her left draped over the armrest. Several buttons loose on her blouse. She's in this position for exactly one reason: she's giving me permission to take in her spectacular tits.

Sara still has her hand on my arm. She looks at me in a way I can only describe as—beseeching. Tentative, she pushes herself up on her toes and kisses me gently on the mouth.

"That'swhat I'm talking about," I hear Mel say.

I put a hand on Sara's shoulder and lightly push her back down. "Sara."

"You don't want this?"

"It's not that I don't—god."

"Thentakeit," Sara says, back on her toes and kissing me fiercely.

There's a part of my brain—the rational part—telling me that this isn't happening. It's like something out of a bad romance novel. But another part of me, the part of me that is actually in this room, in this moment, says this is a once-in-a-lifetime event.

I start kissing her back. Our mouths open and we start using our tongues. It's hot. I feel a hand on my other arm. I pull back from Sara and turn to see Mel. We're eye to eye. She takes no preamble, kissing me hard. Mouth, tongue. It makes me go weak.

I'm not sure where to focus, so I go back and forth, kissing Sara, kissing Mel. In between their turns, they kiss my neck, nibble my earlobes, give short licks. I pull back for air and Sara and Mel take the opportunity to kiss each other. I watch them go to town in deep hungry kisses, flashes of tongue. There's a moment where all three of us are kissing each other, all three faces together, hungry lips and tongues.

I pull back and we break apart. The three of us breathing hard.

"Let's," I say between breaths, "let's just take a second."

I force myself to step away. I go to the couch. Turn to face them.

"Look. I'm not thinking straight." I collect myself. Inhale deeply. "You know I took a short leave. It's why I missed the show."

Both of them look at me, waiting.

"Me and my girlfriend—ex-girlfriend," I wave my hand to the air. "We broke up," I say, dismissive. "It was—we weretrying, if you know what I mean. Trying for a baby. But no luck. We went to experts. Spent a fortune. The reason I was gone was because I went to a clinic out of town. That's when I learned that I...couldn't."

Mel raises an eyebrow, "You mean you can't..."

"No, no," I say quickly. "The plumbing is fine. Fantastic, if you want to know the truth. It's just the ingredients that don't work. We—Ilearned that I'm... sterile."

Sara and Mel stare at me wide-eyed. Then Mel's expression goes intense, devilish. She starts walking towards me, runway style. "Well then, sir," she says in a primal growl. "You're about to have the night of yourfuckinglife."

***

Mel shoves me gently on to the couch. She reaches down and pulls off my shoes and socks. Meanwhile, Sara has come around to the side so she can reach over and unbutton my shirt while she kisses me. Once all the buttons come free she tilts me forward so she can help me take off my shirt. Mel nudges the coffee table with the drinks out of the way. She uses both hands to pull off my jeans. Now the only thing I have on are my briefs.

"I'm at an unfair advantage," I say, a little breathless. But I can see that Mel's blouse has had some of its buttons come loose. One of her breasts is hanging out, her bra doing its damnedest to hold in her massive tit.

Sara goes behind the couch and lays both of her hands on my chest. She slowly starts sliding them down and back up in a kind of massage. Her hands are getting lower with each slide downward, getting closer and closer to the top band of my briefs.

Mel looks down at my bulge. She opens her mouth in surprised delight then closes it to a wicked smile. She kicks off her flats so she's barefoot. Then, in agonizingly slow movements, reaches down to the buttons of her jeans. She undoes them one at a time, but keeps her eyes on me. After the final button is loose, she rotates around and bends over, her cute ass at eye level, and pushes them down. They're so tight it takes some effort until they reach the floor, allowing her to step out of them.

Mel stands and turns back around. Loosens the final buttons on her blouse and lets it fall away. Now it's just bra and panties. Her bra unclasps at the front. She reaches both hands to unhook it. It pops open, but she holds the bra in place.

She looks at both me and Sara with heavy lidded eyes. "Are you ready?"

Sara half-whispers, her mouth near my ear, "I can't wait."

Mel releases the bra in one quick motion so it flies off behind her. Her breasts, now free, bounce gently before stopping.

They are the most spectacular I've ever seen, both in real life and in pictures. Full, round, outer curves that go far past her rib cage. Nipples so hard they practically point upwards. Dark pink areolae about the size of a quarter that fade beautifully into the lighter pink of her amazing skin.

"Shit," is all I can manage.

"Jesus, Mel, those are amazing!" Sara gasps.

"Aren't they?" Mel says proudly. She holds her breasts in both hands at the bottom. Then pushes them upwards where they scrunch up deliciously. She lets her hands slide free upwards, letting her tits fall back down, bouncing way too many times. I have to bite my lip so I don't blow my load right then and there.

"Keep that up and I won't last long," I say.

"We've got all night, Sugar," Mel coos.

She comes to me and leans forward, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut so I don't cum all over her hanging tits. I feel Mel get hold of my briefs, pulling the waste band up and away from my torso, letting my cock jump free.

"Oh dear god," Sara sighs.

"Iknewthere was something about big hands!" Mel trills with glee as she pulls off my briefs and flings them aside. Immediately she's got my cock in her hands as she tosses her long hair off to the side and around her neck. This keeps it out of the way so she can stick out her tongue and lick my shaft, bottom to top before taking my cock in her mouth.

The feeling is glorious. I can't help but let out a whimper. This inspires Sara to come around to the side of the couch so she can clamp her mouth on mine. We gobble each other, using generous tongue, slobbering recklessly.

Sara abruptly pulls away so she can watch Mel devouring my cock in licks and sucks. The sight has me madly thinking of long division equations so I don't explode.

Mel takes another long lick then sits back. She looks at Sara and says, "would you like a turn?"

"God, yes," gasps Sara, as she comes around and spreads my legs so she can sit between them. Mel stands, panting, and draws one elegant finger across her mouth to scrape off some saliva.

I notice Sara is still fully clothed. We're going to have to do something about that.

This distraction is enough to keep from spurting as Sara leans over my rod, drools a huge amount of saliva on it, then, starting from my balls, licks upwards, slurping up the saliva as she closes her mouth around my engorged cock. She moves her head this way and that to lick my shaft, up and down, up and down, occasionally throwing me looks. Pausing, pulling back slightly, then plunging down, taking my cock in her mouth. She doesn't go deep—there's no need. It's plenty to slurp and suck on her way back up.

"Girrrrrl, that's how it'sdone!" Mel marvels.

Sara bobs her head on my cock, fast now, over and over and over, her luscious lips slurping wet with each stroke. She finally pulls free from my throbbing rod, sucking breath like she's coming up for air. She pushes back and stands. She had ditched her shoes at some point, so I can see her cute little feet, bright red nail polish on her toes. She reaches down and pulls her dress over her head, throwing it unceremoniously onto the couch. She's wearing a lacy black bra and dark blue panties, traces of tiny hairs peeking over the waistband.

"That's better," she sighs.

Back down she goes, slurping my cock. Mel drops next to her. "Scoot over," she says to Sara, and they both go to town. Both licking my shaft, cupping and licking my balls. Each taking turns to suck.