I was attending university. I could not believe it. I was roaming the last chapter of my youth before I would step out into the real world. Four years of fantasy fulfillment and organized debauchery had been all I had been waiting for since the age of sixteen. Now, as I was about to turn twenty-one, I had only one goal in mind for this first semester - other than passing my classes, that is - losing my virginity. To a woman. Hopefully.
After the first week, however, my hope of finding someone interested in seeing me naked was slowly fading. In my various classes, the women seemed interested in the teachers, not the guy ogling them from two desks behind. I have to admit however, I was something of a mess. I always wore oversized sweaters and had a long gruffly beard that made me look forty-one and not 21.
Yet, after I got a position writing for the campus newsletter - I edited the arts and literature section - my appearance seemed appropriate. Women would comment on my poetry, call me an urban gypsy, and one even asked for my autograph. But I never had any groupies that would sneak up to my room. Poets are tormented loners dedicated to their art. The reason I wrote poetry was because I had to find a way to direct all my horniness.
After two months of fruitless attempts of getting dates, I decided to become the lone poet.
That seemed to cause the winds to shift in my favor. One day, while I sat at a table during a class break, writing , a group of students joined me. Among them was this woman I had seen in class but had never spoken to . She sat down next me, her long red hair grazing my shoulders as she slid into the seat. "Hi," she said. Her voice had a slight lilt to it I had never heard.
"Hello," I said as I put my pen down. I watched her stare at me intently as she took a sip from my coffee cup. "That's my cup," I commented.
"I'm sorry," she said, putting the cup back down in front of me. "You're James, yes? The writer?"
"Yeah. How do you know my name?" I slipped my paper back into my bag on the floor next to me. She kept looking at me with her intense brown eyes. I found it a bit disconcerting. No one had ever stared at me like that before. I felt my cock tingle.
"Joey told me," she said. He turned to look at me and smiled. "My name is Hannah."
"Nice to meet you," I said. "I've never heard an accent like yours. Where are you from?"
"Germany originally. But I've been here for almost twenty years."
I was about to ask her something else when she suddenly leapt from her seat and headed back for class. I watched her walk away. Her hips were slightly out of proportion with the upper half of her body, but men looked at her appreciatively as she walked by. I got up and followed her as I realized I would be late for class.
