How to be a Freshman Horndog: Janis Part 3
 

I fumbled around for my phone. I picked it up, turned on the picture app, turned the camera lens towards Janis, backed away from her a few inches, kept a finger swirling around in her wetness and snapped a single, clean, beautiful image. Her legs gyrating around the edge of frame. Her head cocked to one side on her pillow. Her mouth open in sensation. Her bouncy, future soccer mom tits jiggling. All this captured in a still frame.

I dropped the phone on the sheets. I twisted my fingers out of her vagina and streaked them across her thigh and up her leg. She closed her legs like a malfunctioning pair of pliers. I felt like I needed to do something else before I left for good. I brought my hand up to her cheek. I caressed her cheek as if to confirm that I could also be a sensitive, passionate lover (spoiler alert: I couldn’t).
She slapped my hand away.
She sat all the way up, wildly, as if realizing that something she’d been dreaming was real. She looked down at my phone. I looked down at my phone.
It was only then when I realized I’d pressed the wrong button. No photo had been taken. This was a video.
“Did you just take a picture of me?” Janis said.
“Not much of a picture,” I said. I picked up the phone. “Should make an interesting video though.”
She smacked the phone out of my hand. It careened down to the floor.
“Why the fuck did I trust you…why the fuck did I trust you…why the fuck…”
It was all to herself. She was really talking to herself the whole time. Not to me at all. I went to grab my shirt. Janis had her face buried in a pillow. She was sitting upright, naked, her vagina still not put back together all nice and neat, a pillow pressed to her face. I snatched the shirt out from under her foot and put it on.
“Fuck you!” she shouted again and threw the pillow at me.
I pulled up the picture on my phone and turned it to her. I stood in the middle of her floor.
“You did a good job,” I said. “This is how you did.”
I opened her door and left. I went home.

Too bad she didn’t want to fuck me. She would have been a nice alternative to escort sex. I considered this loss as I crossed the street to my dorm minutes later, a cool air having descended on the campus and the sun slanted so that it’s rays fell on me and, so it felt, only on me. The other element to my walk was the slowly evaporating tang-taste of pussy, which reminded me that I’d eaten a girl out something intense and that you couldn’t even do with call girls. So, a win.

I uploaded the video to my computer. I color corrected it a little. I thought about cropping it but I didn’t. The frame was already perfect. I jerked off to it.
It was only then that I realized how I would resolve the issue of the serious, crazy debt I’d gotten myself in to. It was only then, as I waited for the picture to send in a text message to Dirk that I realized, everything is going to be okay.
And it was a moment later, as I pondered what thought content did fire off in Janis’ mind as she stretched her jaw wide for those moments surrounding the picture that I thought, I am living in my magazine, I am living in my magazine, I am living in my magazine now.