First, total disclaimer: this hasn't ever happened, at least not to me. I've been writing erotica off and on for a while, and at least one old girlfriend used to masturbate herself frenziedly, listening as I spun smutty tales for her amusement. I'd actually intended it as a prose exercise, trying to write about something with which I had no personal experience, and imagining everything, making it as real to my readers as if I had really done everything I relate below. Let me know what you think, and feel free to vote for my story if you like it. Above all, enjoy!
ScottieDog61
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It happened in my sophomore year of college, away from home and on the road for my college debate team. My girlfriend Wendy was almost four thousand miles away, back East to visit her family over the spring break.
We had started up in November, dating a couple of times before falling in love, and later into bed together. We spent most school nights apart, and the weekends from Friday on through Sunday afternoon in my dorm room, or her apartment, fucking like crazy. Now, in early April, every minute away from her left me longing for her touch, her kisses, the taste and scent of her juices on my tongue, and the sight and feel of my cock gliding in and out of her while she moaned my name or throaty, endearing four-letter words in time to our thrusting.
Being twenty is wonderful, especially in retrospect. Just past the embarrassment of getting an unexpected hard-on when standing up in front of the class, or in the pool with my sister's friends, where even the cool autumn nights and the frigid pool couldn't keep my flag from flying, and my sister blushing while her friends giggled, pretending not to notice. At twenty, you can actually get laid without hiding from your parents, or skulking around a backyard hoping her father doesn't catch you with your pants down and your cock filling your girlfriend's tender young pussy, or, worse, her mouth.
Wendy was a good lay. Actually, she was an
awesome
lay. Her body was slender but generously curved in the right places. Her glorious mane of red hair spilled down over her shoulders, and when she rode astride me, grinding her sparse, almost pink bush against me, her pussy devouring my cock, nipples playing peek-a-boo through her tresses, I felt like I was in Heaven, or a really good porn flick.
She seldom sunbathed, but when she did, it was always in the nude, and only in the late afternoon so she wouldn't burn her pale, satiny skin. She had dark blue eyes, mischievous and bold, and slender lips that were much fuller and stronger when they touched mine. Her breasts were of average size, but full and responsive to my touch. She usually wore overalls with a tee-shirt, and sometimes a sweater for the chill Bay Area winters, and, on one notable occasion, nothing but the overalls. For about five minutes, that is.
I was her first lover, her first all-grown-up relationship, and she tried to be a young sophisticate, almost succeeding until her first giggle broke the spell. My cock was the first inside her, so she said, but she was a fast study, picking up all the tricks I could teach her and she could read about and watch in the occasional porn we'd bring back to her apartment, feeling very adult while looking for any excuse to stop the movie and get our clothes and any waiting out of the way.
I'd had three women before her, none lasting in my life longer than a few weeks, followed by late-night masturbation sessions going on until either the sun rose, or I fell asleep from happy exhaustion. Even then I dreamed of their bodies, always more perfect and willing in my sleep than in real life, rubbing and kissing and sucking me all over, begging me to return to them. More often than not, I woke to the sound of my own soft, covetous moans before school, naked on top of the bed, with my shorts mysteriously on the floor, humping my fist or the pillow in dreamy consolation.
Wendy was new to sex, and despite her eagerness was very tentative about a lot of things. The first time I kissed her bush, she looked surprised, and had given me one of those, "Is that supposed to do something for me?" looks. Her first orgasm happened the second time I ate her out, and she seemed to decide that it did, after all, do something wonderful for her. To thank me, she very gently tried to fellate me, again looking puzzled at my reaction to her lips and tongue on my shaft. Like a lot of guys I knew, she clearly preferred receiving oral to giving it, but dutifully sucked me off, letting my semen spurt onto her lips, and a couple of times actually in her mouth, perhaps in the mistaken belief that I wouldn't go down on her again if she didn't reciprocate.
As if.
Anyway, Wendy was off to see her family all the way across the country. We promised to call every couple of days, but not every day, because that would be too needy. During the quarter break, I was out of town at a debate team tournament, and my school was in good shape to place in the week-long event. My roommate was an old friend, and the captain of our speech forensics team, James. I'd caught him stealing sidelong glances at Wendy when we were together, and sometimes smiled back, conspiratorially, telling him in my own mind that she was everything anyone could ever want.
But this story is about what happened when she was away.
James was lean, but in a wiry way, not skinny or frail. He wasn't a jock, but he worked out often, battling the tendency of a student schooling away from home to gain or lose weight with the change in diet and schedule. His black hair was cropped short, and he had tightly trimmed sideburns. His clothing favored darker shades, often a black button-down shirt and blue jeans, or shorts and a tee with sneakers when he went to work out. His most striking feature, which endeared him to women of all types, was his eyes, a deep yet clear blue, the color of the ocean under a perfectly blue sky.
We'd arrived Sunday at the hotel and unpacked. Monday kicked the festivities off, and Tuesday morning found my school tied for second place so far. My own debate on the merits of public funding for housing helped us get to that point, and I had called Wendy as promised that night, as I had Sunday. This time it was without success; the phone machine answered, and I checked my watch, suddenly realizing that just after dinner in Los Angeles was around bedtime in Boston. I apologized to the machine and quickly hung up.
Sometimes, being twenty and horny isn't so wonderful. Unable to reach Wendy, and not willing to piss off her old man, who I was sure was twice my height and nicknamed Killer, even though he was a music professor, I chatted with contestants from other universities, including a gorgeous brunette named Maria, an olive-skinned exchange student from a Latin American country whose name barely made an impression as we moved on to other subjects.
My fifth beer of the evening hit me hard, and I decided to head to bed. Climbing under the covers, I noted James wasn't there, and assumed he had enticed a woman into letting him spend some time in her bed, or just in her. After all, that's at least part of the reason for these competitions, at both the high school and collegiate level.
In minutes, I was fast asleep, but not comfortably. The alcohol interacted with my disappointment over not speaking to Wendy, or hearing her voice, and my dreams were both erotic and dark. In one dream, she stood nude, arms and legs apart to welcome me, and blew away at a sudden gale of wind that sucked her into the black clouds overhead.
That dream passed, and she was with me again, naked and gorgeous, hair fuller than ever before, and her hot kisses stole my breath away as she mounted me, rocking her hips and fucking me deliberately and gently, leaning back with her hands on my knees, arching her back as I started to moan and thrust into the waiting moistness. The walls of her cunt tightened around my cock, and I groaned loudly as I shot my load deep into her waiting hole...
I awoke, naked on top of the bed, with the covers thrown back, warm cum on my fingers and stomach, cooling in the hotel room's dimness as my balls continued to spasm, subsiding with each new trickle of semen. Glancing over at James' bed, I was relieved to see that it was empty, but then I noticed it had been slept in, just before I heard the shower turned on. At least he was in the bathroom while I was jacking off, I hoped. Retrieving my shorts and cleaning up as best I could, I got back under the covers moments before James stepped out of the bathroom.
Turned away and pretending to sleep, snoring softly, I listened as he dropped his towel and got dressed. He stopped for a moment, probably grabbing his watch, and left the room without saying a word.
Good
, I thought.
He didn't catch me getting myself off.
I hoped I was right.
After waiting to make sure he was gone, I slipped out of bed and got into the shower myself, washing away my semen and all the fatigue I still had left. Dressing quickly, I went downstairs for breakfast and the daily assembly, then on into the day.
