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I was sitting in the student union at a local north Texas university, waiting on my college-aged son to finish off a class, so I could pick him up from classes. I decided to take in my computer and get some work done. After I hooked up in a quiet and secluded spot in the student union, a very cute college co-ed took up a seat just a few feet from where I was. I had thought I was pretty secluded. She was refreshingly cool looking, in her black leather jacket, t-shirt and tight jeans. She had long brown hair and stylish bangs, that gave her more of a high school senior look than that of a college-aged student.
We didn’t connect, not right off, even though I casually took note of her presence. She simply worked her cell phone, checking messages, social media and emails.
After a few minutes, she looked up and I kept my eyes glued to my lap-tap.
“I like your jacket,” she pronounced. Taking stock in my Wilson-branded leather jacket.
“Thanks,” I dutifully replied without looking up from my pc. “Yours looks pretty cool as well.”
“Are you a professor?” she asked. I am in my late fifties, so it was a legit question.
“I’m waiting on my son,” I replied.
“So, what do you teach?” she pressed.
Hummm. What do I teach? It was such an interesting and probative question.
“Human sexuality,” I replied. I have no idea why I said, ‘human sexuality’, but I did. It just popped into my head.
“I was thinking to take that class,” she said, “But I opted to take biology instead.”
I remained quiet and tried to focus on my work report.
“Human sexuality sounds so very interesting,” she pressed on. “Is that like the emotions behind our sexual prowess?”
“Yeah, something like that,” I replied.
“That’s so cool,” she replied.
I stayed quiet and let her talk.
“So, who is more sexual?” she asked. “Men or women?”
“It depends on who you ask,” I replied.
I cocked my head and looked in her direction. She was very easy on the eyes, sitting here, with her head resting against a balled-up fist, positioned on her cheek, thinking.
“I’m thinking it depends on the individual and their hormones,” she replied, “and the timing and the environment.”
“I’m thinking you’re right,” I replied, “except for the hormonal balance thing, as that only applies to those in their late teens and early twenties.”
My student union partner grew silent. “What about those sudden, unplanned, and sporadic times when two people simply hook up for just the fun of it,” she pressed.
“Those can be the best connections,” I replied. “Spontaneity certainly has its rewards and its challenges.”
My student union partner shifted out of her seat and into the seat right next to where I was seated at a waist high computer bar. She leaned in and whispered, “What if we were to hook up?”
Hold up. Back up the train. It was time to reassess a few things. What did she just ask?
She quickly retreated. “I’m not saying we should or that I want to, but . . .” her words trailed off.
I looked right back at her and directly into her sparkling dark green eyes. “Don’t even tease me,” I warned.
“I would never do that,” she replied matter-of-factly, as she batted her eye lids, “but I have to admit that I have a thing for older guys and professors.”
I chuckled. “Is that why you came over here?” I pressed.
“Not really,” she replied. “I was just looking for my usual secluded space to chill and I happened to find you occupying it.”
As she chatted with me, I was quickly drawn into her soft approach and chilling ability to captivate the conversation with just the right words, coupled with the rhythmical movement of her left leg in a nervous tick that belied any explanations.
I studied her body movements and the subtle arching of her detailed eyebrows. She wore very little makeup- she didn’t need to, as she was beautiful without it. “What are you studying?” I subtly inquired.
“Now? Or in general?” she asked.
I chuckled. “I know what you’re studying now, but I was asking in general.”
“Social Services,” she replied.
“And that would be like, what?”
“I want to be a social worker or a professional counselor and help people find a true measure of happiness,” she dutifully replied. It was a safe answer.
“So, what makes you happy?” I pressed.
“A decent conversation with a man who doesn’t use the term “like” over and over,” she replied.
I had to test the waters, so I challenged her wittiness by shooting back, “So would you like to to…uh…like to get a bite to eat and, like uh, pick up some . . .like uh . .some condoms and like uh, find . . . like a . . .a like a . . .private place to like uh, you know, like, have some fun?”
My student-union-friend chuckled as she hand-waved a lock of her hair back over her shoulder. “I like your sense of humor,” she replied as she shifted in her seat, “and we won’t need any condoms, because I’m on the pill.”
“Do you do this a lot?” I asked.
“Do what?” she replied, acting all innocent like.
“Ask older guys out for a date, not even knowing who they are?” I pressed.
“No,” she dutifully replied, “this is a first and I’m not sure why I have found you easy to chat with or so attractive.”
I reassured her that I didn’t think myself attractive as a middle-aged man.
“But you are,” she replied, “in a very special way. You’re hugely attractive.”
I thanked her and looked at my cell phone. I told her that I didn’t have but about an hour of free time.
“That’s all we need,” she replied, shifting off of the bar stool seat and taking up a standing position right next to where I was still seated.
“You are serious,” I replied.
“Yes, I am,” she replied. “Would you like to go check out my off-campus apartment?”
I was suspect that she was a set-up, perhaps an undercover officer working the student union looking for perverts. I also thought she might be a Mickey-Fin girl trying to lure me into some type of poisonous set up to rob me, so my “high alert” senses kicked in.
She offered to give me a ride to her off-campus apartment, so I cautiously said I’d go with her. I asked her if I could lock my computer up in my car, first and she said, “Sure.” She followed me out to my car, and I locked my computer up in the trunk as she stood by and watched.
We then walked about a block to another parking lot and we piled into her Jeep for a short ride to her off campus apartment about three blocks from sorority row. The apartment complex had a small courtyard behind an iron gate. I followed her into the courtyard and nervously watched as she opened her apartment door.
“My room mate is in class,” she offered as we entered the small apartment and she closed and dead bolt locked the door behind us. She turned and faced me, biting down on her lower lip, in silence.
“So, what do you think?” she asked, as I looked around the well decorated apartment.
“Nice,” I replied. “very nice.”
“No silly,” she replied, “I’m talking about me!”
“You’re nice, too,” I replied. “Very nice.”
“Would you like me to be even nicer?” she asked.
“Babe,” I replied, “I don’t think you could be any more nice than you already are.”
“Oh yes I can,” she suggestively replied, clasping her hands behind her back and shuffling towards where I stood by the entry door to the apartment. She stepped right up to where I was standing, pressing herself in against me, and whispered, “Can I show you how really nice I can be?”
“Sure,” I replied.
She shifted her hand to my chest and then slowly moved it down to my abdomen, her green eyes locking on to mine, as she suggestively moved her hand to my crotch. There was no way to hide the excitement that had begun to build in my pants.
She continued to bite down on her lower lip, as she massaged my package, while watching response. I took in a deep breath and then forcefully exhaled. She fumbled with my belt for a brief second, never taking her eyes away from my gaze, as she unzipped my trousers. She dug her hand in past the elastic of my bikini briefs to grab my tool. Her eyes widened once she realized that she had hold of my cock.
Without saying a word, she dropped into a squatting position in front of me, pulling my jeans down in the process, allowing her an unimpeded access to my manly parts. She pulled my bikini briefs down, fully exposing my manhood.
She ran her tongue up the back side of my elongated tool, from the base of it to the top, where she encircled the tip end of my tool with her tongue. She looked up at me as I watched her. The she slipped the tip end of my tool into her mouth and attempted to push as much of me into her mouth as possible.
Oh! My! God! She gently massaged my testicles with her small hands, gently squeezing them as she sucked on my cock. She had the rhythm down perfect.
“You’re going to make me cum,” I warned.
“Wait,” she shot back, “I want you to cum inside of me”
She stood up and we kissed. On Lord! This girl was a superb kisser. Her probing tongue was all over the place.
I helped her out of her t-shirt and her bra. She was a bit on the small size, boob-wise, but that was perfectly okay with me. Her dime-sized areolas were perfectly centered on her c-cup breasts, which had taunt little nipples perched perfectly on top of her breasts. She closed her eyes and interlocked her fingers behind her head as I toyed with each breast, licking and gently sucking on each one.
I slowly kissed my way down to her pierced navel and as I unfastened her jeans, she toe-to-heel kicked off her flats. She smelled shower fresh, with a light touch of perfume, but it would not cover the smell of her sexy essence. She wiggled out of her jeans and I eagerly helped her take them off. Her pink lacy panties were soaked in her womanly juices.
I looped a finger into the elastic sides of her panties and slowly pulled them down over her thighs. She had a small, thin, closely cropped and a well-manicured landing strip that pointed the way to her love box. After stepping out of her jeans and her panties, she asked if everything looked okay.
I told her that I hadn’t come prepared for a sexual encounter and asked if she had any condoms.
“No,” she replied, “but I am on the pill and . . . .”
She paused and I waited for the rest of the sentence.
“ . . .and I am a virgin.”
Holy crap, back the train up, what did she just say?
Her disclosure came as a shock to me. She clasped her hands together, interlocking her fingers, as she stared back at me.
“Are we okay?” she asked as I tried to process her declaration.
‘Oh yeah,” I quickly replied, “but are you sure about this?
“Yessss,” she declared. “I’ve been thinking about this for years, and this is exactly what I want and how I wanted it.”
I was hardly one to argue, at this point, as she had hold of my man tool and she wasn’t about to let go.
She led me into one of the two bedrooms and I silently settled on to the bed, on my back. She crawled on to the bed beside me, and began kissing my nipples, which drove me insane. Once again, she worked her way down my body with her devilish and very erotic kisses. She stopped short of my man tool and looked up at me for my reaction.
She took my cock in hand and studied it for the longest time, in complete silence. A clear liquid seeped from the tip end of it and she asked if I was ready to fuck.
Up until that point, I had not heard her curse, so when she asked me if I was ready to “fuck”, it caught me off guard.
She straddled my body and lowered her hips on to my cock, rubbing herself in a rocking motion against my tool. The lips of her vagina were simply gorgeous. She lowered her head and her hands, which were planted on my chest, began to tremble.
“Put me in,” I begged. She raised her hips up and with one hand, she guided the tip end of my tool into folds of her vagina. She lowered her hips, ever so slowly, looking straight at me, biting down on her lower lip with anticipation. Upon reaching her hymen, she paused and closed her eyes. I grabbed her hips and pulled her downward. She grimaced as her hymen broke, and her pubic bone crashed into mine. Her eyes widened once she realized she was no longer a virgin, but a woman. I held on to her hips as she rocked back and forth, my cock sliding along the channel of her vagina, which seemed to clamp down on me. She was tight, but only for a moment.
Suddenly, she experienced her first orgasm, it rolled through her entire body.
“Oh God!’ she exclaimed. “That was – that was . .”
Her voice trailed off as she gasped for a breath.
“Oh my God!’ she cried out, as she rhythmically rocked back and forth, picking up speed, her hands still planted firmly on my chest. She lowered her head, her long brown hair momentarily hiding her angelic face. She tried to grapple with the intensity of the feelings rolling through her. She tossed her back and took in a deep breath.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her hands balled up into white knuckled fists. It was her very first cataclysmic orgasm.
I grabbed her hands and held on to them. My testicles tightened and I shot my load deep inside of her as her eyes widened.
“I can feel you cuming!’ she exclaimed.
“Yessssss!” I exclaimed.
She collapsed forward, her head coming to rest on my shoulder. Her pussy clamped down on my tool. We both simply lay motionless for quite a few minutes, simply taking in the surreal experience.
Mother nature began to take its course and my sweet little not so innocent college nymphet whimpered a soft, “No.”
There was nothing I could do. I was spent.
We lay there kissing for the longest time, something that the two of seemed to really enjoy.
“Dude,” she said, “I could get used to this.”
I felt the same way, although I knew the likelihood of us having a long-time arrangement was going to be simply not possible.
“You have to meet my roommate, Angela,” she declared after a few more minutes of intense kissing.
“Why?” I asked. “Is she a virgin too?”
“No,” she replied, “but she’s totally cool and sexy as hell.”
I told her that I was simply fine being a one-woman man.
“She’s always telling me that she wants to screw a professor,” she remarked.
“But I’m not a professor,” I replied. I had to be totally honest.
“I know it,” she replied, “but you look like one and it can be our little secret.”
Just as we were about to get up, we heard a tapping on the apartment door. My little nymphet quickly donned her t-shirt and her jeans and darted for the apartment door, as I got dressed behind a partially closed bedroom door.
I heard the apartment door open and apologies being extended.
“I found me a tutor,” exclaimed my little nymphet to her roommate in an excited voice. “He is super cool and a professor!”
I sheepishly stepped from behind the partially closed bedroom door.
Holy smokes. Angela was just as cute as her roommate, and then some. She sported spandex yoga pants that didn’t leave anything to the imagination and a sports bra that did the same. I quickly introduced myself and proffered a wink as Angela sized me up.
“Are you a real professor?” she asked.
“Human sexuality,” I replied. She looked at her roommate and repeated, “Human sexuality?”
I nodded my head and asked of she had ever heard of the class.
“No,” she replied, “does it require lab work?”
“Most definitely,” I replied, proffering a wink, and adding that it was both a social science and an earth science course.
“I might have to sign up for the class,” said Angela.
“I’m offering free prep classes,” I proffered. “Maybe I can come back by and we can have a one-on-one session one day.”
Angela looked at her room mate who looked back and smiled.
“I’m game,” said Angela, her voice trailing off slightly.
“In fact, I’ve got some free time right now,” she added, as she tossed her backpack on to the couch.
Damn . . .
. . . to be continued
Gigi
- 01.06.2022
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- College Sex
