6 comments/ 74611 views/ 10 favorites The Dorm By: ableoneable Steven Veecer was not overly excited to be home in L.A. for Christmas. He had a good job lined up in Phoenix for the winter break and initially had planned on blowing off the holiday. The dorms were going to be closed for three days, however, and his boss did not need him for any of those days, so he flew home. There were more relatives than usual this year so Steve was just as happy he would be flying back to ASU on the 27th. People were underfoot so when his father asked for a volunteer to go out to the airport and pick up his aunt and uncle, Steve jumped at the chance. He had not seen his father's brother and wife in about seven years and knew them mostly from pictures. Brian was an investment banker and his wife Shelly was a corporate attorney. They had lived in Dallas for the past twenty years and never had had time for children. Steve only had to circle through LAX twice before he spotted them. His uncle looked like a slightly older version of his father but his aunt was a stunner. Steve thought wryly that she was your typical Dallas career wife. Even though she was clearly in her mid to late forties Steve rated her as very doable. She was a short haired blonde who looked like she had been sewn into her Chanel suit. Steve stopped the car and got out to greet them and help them with their luggage. "Hello Steve, it's been a long time," Brian said as he reached out and shook Steve's hand. He then turned and gestured at his wife, "You remember your Aunt Shelly, or maybe you don't. It has been a while." He said with a smile. Steve turned and quickly shook hands with his aunt. "My, you have grown up," she said with an infectious smile. "I understand that you are pre-law?" "Yea, I am half way through my sophomore year." At that moment an airport police car came around the corner. "We better get going. Is this all of your luggage?" Moments later Steve got in behind the wheel as his uncle held open the passenger door for Shelly. Steve watched as her long legs gracefully slid into the car. It was the first time he had noticed that his aunt was wearing black pumps that must have been at least five inches high. All the way back to his parents house Shelly peppered him with questions about his law classes. Largely because he had to look out at the road Steve was able to converse fairly intelligently about the law. Steve did not see much of them after he got them to his parent's house until his last night at home. It was about ten at night and Steve was going to catch a flight out about noon the next day. He was in his father's den reading some of his law books when his aunt walked by. She was still on Dallas time and was restless. He was absorbed in the text when she placed a well manicured hand on the book so that she could lift it and read the cover. Steve was startled and his eyes locked on her hand. Her talon-like nails were painted bright red and a large diamond dominated her ring finger. "Oh god, I remember being bored to death by estate law." She said in reference to his textbook. "Well it's not my favorite either but it's my weakest subject so here I am." He responded with a thin smile. "Do you mind if I join you? I can't sleep and I would not mind finishing our previous conversion." She asked. "Not at all, any excuse to blow this off is welcome." Steve said as he pulled his feet off of the overstuffed chair opposite his seat. Shelly smiled radiantly and settled into the armchair. By concentrating on her face Steve was able to keep his mind clear and they proceeded to talk late into the night. "Do you mind?" Shelly asked as she moved her legs. She wanted to rest her feet on Steve's lap as they talked. "Sure, no problem." He replied as he continued his last thought. This time he could not avoid being distracted by her body. She was wearing a pair of jeans that looked as if they had been painted on and a tight, white tee shirt under a stylish leather jacket. His cock jumped as her white spike heel grazed his crotch. He was barely able to continue his thought. That night, before he went to sleep, he masturbated while fantasizing bout his Aunt Shelly's magnificent ass. Three months later he got a call from his father. His aunt and uncle were going to be in Phoenix for a day and a night. His uncle was looking at some land and Shelly was going to be giving a guest lecture at the ASU law school. Even though he was an undergrad his aunt arranged for him to attend her last lecture of the day. Steve sat in one of the back rows of the lecture hall. She was wearing a blouse and a suit jacket over another pair of very tight jeans and a pair of stiletto heels. After her lecture ended she entered into a conversation with some the students and professors at the front of the hall. Steve was just kind of hanging off to the side when Shelly noticed him and beckoned him over. "Everybody, this is my nephew Steve. He is an undergrad here." She then pulled Steve to her side and shortly thereafter said, "We've got to be going. We're meeting my husband for dinner in a half hour." As they left the hall together Steve asked, "I didn't know we were meeting Uncle Brian for dinner?" "We're not. I just did not want to get trapped with the academic types all night. Brian is going to be busy until about nine tonight. Why don't we eat, then you can show me around campus and Brian can pick me up at your dorm around nine-thirty?" They went to dinner at a nearby Z'Tejas and ended up in his dorm room at about eight fifteen. They had a good rapport with each other and were both really enjoying the conversation. He had a limited supply of furniture in his dorm room and they were both sitting on his small twin bed while they talked. Shelly was a touchy feely type and as they talked she would occasionally touch him on his leg or thigh to emphasize a point. They were mid conversation when her cell phone rang around nine-twenty. Shelly answered the phone with her left hand and simultaneously rested her right on Steve's knee while she talked to Brian. As she talked she idly began moving her nails up and down Steve's leg without even realizing she was doing so. Steve was rock hard and straining to keep completely still. "Well, Brian's meeting ran a little long but he is on his way and should be downstairs in about twenty minutes." She said as she closed her phone. Shelly suddenly realized what she had been doing and stopped moving her hand but did not take it off Steve's bare leg. She then noticed his strained expression and she asked in a concerned tone, "Are you feeling alright?" "Yea, fine. Just fine." Steve stammered back at her. At that moment she shifted her gaze to his crotch and noticing the straining material she blushed slightly and smiled. "Oh my, I didn't realize.." she trailed off as a new thought took root in her mind. As she ceased speaking her gaze came back to Steve's face and her mouth formed a mischievous smile. Simultaneously she slowly slid her hand up his thigh and into his shorts, stopping only as her long nails grazed his erect cock. "I , uh.." he began before she brought her other hand to her lips and shushed him. She maintained both the sly smile and eye contact as she removed her hand from his thigh and slowly opened his fly. Deftly she freed his shaft from his underwear and moments later his erect shaft jutted out. He could not feel the cool night air contrasting with her sharp nails as she slowly raked his shaft up and down with her fingertips. Steve was sitting stone still. He could not believe what was happening and was scared to death that she would suddenly stop. His eyes were riveted on her as she drew her right leg fully up onto the bed and placed her right foot on the floor. She then brushed her hair out of her eyes and slowly lowered her head into his lap. There was a sharp intake of breath as Steve inhaled at the moment his aunt's lips came into contact with his shaft. Shelly continued at a steady pace and engulfed his cock fully, deep-throating her nephew until her lips brushed his balls. She bobbed her head up and down as she sucked, going from having him deep in her mouth to just the mushroom tip of his dick. After just a minute or two she eased herself off of the bed and pushed his knees apart all the while not letting his cock come out of her mouth completely. She was now standing, bent over at the waist blowing him. Steve could look beyond her into the mirrored closet door and see her reflection. From her come-fuck-me pumps to the perfect curve of her perfect heart shaped ass he watched as he felt his dick slide in and out of her warm mouth. Slowly she lowered herself so that she was on her knees in front of him. Steve had not yet moved an inch. He could feel the come start to rise and did not know if he should come in her mouth or not when she stopped sucking and looked up at him. "Stop looking so shocked, just relax and enjoy, alright Steven?" She asked sweetly. Steve nodded and said somewhat incoherently, "Uh huh." As she spoke she continued to softly pump his cock, "You've been fantasizing about this since you saw me at the airport, haven't you?" Steven nodded weakly and a smile flashed across her face before she engulfed his member once more. She could sense his approaching orgasm and she picked up the pace. As she sucked she slid her right hand under his ass and squeezed hard, making indentations in his skin where her sharp nails bit deep. With her other hand she softly stroked his inner thigh right at the crotch. At that moment her phone started to vibrate and she stopped to answer it while slowly stroking his cock with her left hand. "I was wondering where you were Brian," she said into the phone while maintaining eye contact with her nephew. "I am going to use Steve's powder room and then I will be right down. Just stay in the car and keep it running." As she spoke Steve watched as her well manicured hand with her diamond encrusted wedding ring stroked his hard cock. It was one of the hottest things he had ever seen. "Alright sweetie, I'll see you in a few." She said before shutting off the phone and casually tossing it onto the bed. She slid her right hand back under his ass and said in a huskily, "You're uncle is downstairs waiting for me. Tell me what you want your Aunt Shelly to do." Steve cleared his throat and began, "Please..." but before he could say more she cut him off. "Don't ask Steven. Women don't like mealy mouthed men in the bedroom. Tell your Aunt Shelly, explicitly, what you want her to do. I want you to orderme to do what you want." "Suck my cock aunt Shelly." Steve said evenly. Shelly smiled and Steve placed his hand on her head and gently forced he head back down onto his shaft. Shelly sucked with vigor. She was turned on by the fact that while her husband waited for her downstairs in their rental car she was on her knees giving her nephew a blowjob. Steve felt the come starting to rise and he placed both of his hands on his aunt's head and applied considerable pressure, forcing his cock deep into her mouth. Shelly gripped both of his thighs hard as her nephew forced her to deep throat him. As his come started to pump into her throat she lightly kicked her feet up and down as she worked to swallow his massive load. Steve groaned as his orgasm subsided and his aunt continued to suck his softening dick. After she was sure she had cleaned him thoroughly Shelly disengaged herself, deftly tucked his softening member back into his shorts and zipped him back up. She said not another word as she stood up, tossed her cell back into her purse and went to the bathroom where Steve could see her reapplying her lipstick. She then sauntered over to his door, opened it and said, "Sweet dreams Steven" before letting herself out. Steve just slumped back on his bed and replayed the night over and over. The Dorm Mother She appeared to be in her fifties, with a figure that was not slim, but not conspicuously overweight, either. With wide hips, a modest waistline, and a generous bosom, she was what some men might describe as "on the solid side." She was dressed in a white blouse, gray skirt, nylons, and sensible flats. Her jewelry was not ostentatious, and she wore a minimum of make-up: a little lipstick, some nail polish. There was nothing to call attention to her except a quick smile and an expression in her eyes that she knew something you didn't. Her name was Alice. We were two members of a reading club of six women, all of a similar age, which would meet to discuss a book that we'd all read. After a couple of bottles of wine, our tongues got a little looser, and somehow the discussion veered off into our sex lives, and how many lovers we'd had. I confessed to six of them, of which my late husband had been the last, and another woman named Gladys claimed to have had over twenty. Then we asked Alice. "Do you really want to know? I bet you won't believe me!" "Try us!" Gladys said, the challenge heavy in her voice. "Let me see..." Alice leaned back and did a quick mental calculation. "About...two thousand, I think." We were thunderstruck. "Two thousand men?" I finally managed to ask. "Maybe more. Maybe not as many. I never counted, really." "No way! We're talking about penetration, not just making out." "That's what I meant. I've had around two thousand cocks inside me. Most of them more than once. And I'd say that well over a thousand of them were virgins." She smiled. "I told you that you wouldn't believe me!" "Were you...a prostitute?" "No. I never took money. Gifts, sometimes. Things like jewelry, perfume, theater tickets, that sort of thing. But never money." Gladys scoffed. "I don't see how you could have a track record like that and still keep a job!" "Well, in a way, it was my job. I was a dorm mother. My husband and I were resident assistants for one of the underclass dorms at a private college in New England. I won't name it, but you'd recognize it. We had that job for twenty-five years." "You had a husband? Did he know about it?" "Of course he did. He even suggested it. Do you want to know the whole story? I've never told it before, but now that my husband has passed on, it really doesn't matter any more." The room fell silent. Alice took a sip of her wine, paused for a moment to put her recollections in order, and then told us this story: ************** "We got the job shortly after we were married. Jerry was a graduate student at the college, and I was a college dropout waitressing at a nearby diner where all the students ate when they needed something besides dorm food. That's where I met him. I loved Jerry, and Jerry loved me. The only thing about him that bothered me was that he'd never give me anything more than a kiss and a hug, but I figured that he was 'saving himself for marriage.' When he said that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me, I said 'Yes.' What else could I say? I was in love. "But I found out on our honeymoon that he was gay. We made clumsy love, and it took forever to get him hard. When I did, he told me that it was he was thinking about guys, not me. When he finally came in me, he was out of me in a flash, his body in full panic mode. We tried a few more times, but it never got any better. "I have to say he tried really hard to 'go straight" for me, but it just didn't work out. He said that I couldn't arouse him sexually, and that he needed other men for sex, but swore that he loved me for who I was and would never leave me. And I loved him, too, even after he told me he wouldn't sleep with me. And we stayed married for twenty-six years. In most ways, he was the ideal husband. He never brought problems home. He helped with the housework. He cheered me up when I was down, never forgot our anniversaries. He was always my best friend, the one constant in my life. He was my rock. "I told him that if he wanted to sleep with other men from time to time, then that was all right with me. But I also him that I wasn't going to be resigned to a sexless marriage, and he agreed that I could take sexual partners as I pleased, that he'd never get jealous of them. But I made a promise to him that I'd always use condoms, so as not to bring any diseases home, and so that I wouldn't get pregnant. I never broke that promise. "Anyway, we saw the job offered for the resident assistant. They were looking for a married couple, and we were perfect. They gave us a suite with a kitchen, living room, dining room, bathroom, bedroom and a large study. We simply used the study as a second bedroom. We ate together, watched TV together, chatted together, all that stuff. But we didn't sleep together. "It didn't take us long to get to know the students, and it became apparent to me that some of them were very lonely. They were far from home and they didn't have steady girlfriends. Most of these young men were what we'd call "nerds" today, with no social life outside their studies. And they were very, very horny. I'd catch them staring at my boobs instead of looking me in the eye. I started to dress more provocatively, but always within the bounds of propriety. I'd flirt with them and occasionally stole a kiss that was more than maternal, and when I reached down to caress a crotch, I could feel a penis swelling and thickening under the denim of their jeans. "Well, I discussed it with Jerry, and he suggested that I ask them to make love to me. He told me about a dorm room down at the end of the hall, across from our suite, which had been vacated by a student who had been in a car accident a couple of weeks into the term, and wouldn't be back. I will remember the number of that room until the day I die; it was 244. "It seemed to be the ideal solution for a horny young wife: a whole dorm filled with horny young men. So I agreed, and the next day, I found myself talking to a shy young man named John, I think...it's been so long, but I think it was John...and he was the perfect candidate. I told him to meet me at two o'clock in room 244. When he got there, I pulled him inside and started stripping. I'll never forget the expression on his face when I took my bra off! He'd never seen a woman's naked tits before, and I swear he was this close to bolting out of the room! But then I started undressing him, telling him that everything was all right, that my husband didn't mind, that we were going to have a lot of fun together. Soon he was naked, and he was sucking my nipples as I rolled a condom onto his hard dick. And then I pulled down my panties, grabbed his hand, and pressed it against my bush. His hand was shaking. "It turned out that he was a virgin, and when we finally got into bed, he came as soon as he was inside me. I didn't care. It was my first cock in months, and the sensation alone was pleasurable. I spent the next hour teasing him back to hardness and telling him how handsome and kind he was, and explaining what a woman needs in a lover. When he was hard again, I gave him another rubber and showed him how to use it. Then I guided him into me and told him to take it slow and gentle. He lasted a bit longer this time, and I actually climaxed before he did. Then, as he softened and slipped out of me, I told him that this was a wonderful thing for me, but that it probably wouldn't happen again, and that he wouldn't have any trouble finding and pleasing a girl if he put his mind to it and treated her with kindness and respect. That was really all he needed to know. There's something that happens to a boy after he loses his cherry: he becomes more self-confident, and finds it easier to get dates. I've seen it hundreds of times. "I took my next partner a few days later, a friend of John's. He was a sophomore from Angola. He was a fine black man, and he wasn't a virgin, but he hadn't had a woman since he arrived in the States over a year ago. I fucked him two or three times that year, until I convinced him that he should be looking for his own dates. The girls would make fun of his English, which was more British than American, but after a while he became fluent enough to keep up small talk, and he was a wonderful boy, and an attentive lover. He actually ended up marrying an American woman and took her home to Africa, I think. And since you ladies are probably dying to know, his cock was big when it was soft, but about the same size as most men's when it was hard. "I guess you should know about that, too. I've had two thousand cocks in me, as I've said, and there were a few that were really small, and a few that were really large, but most of them were around five to seven inches, more or less. My hand span is seven inches, and I'd do a quick measurement when their cocks were hard to see if I had to be careful about my cervix. Other than that, they were pretty much all the same to me, except that I tended to like the thick ones more than the thin ones. It really depended on the guy, though, and how sensitive I was that day. "The only thing these cocks had in common were that they were all dying for release, and for most of them, that meant in my pussy. But there were quite a few men that didn't respond to my caresses. Most of them turned out to be gay, and I explained to them that being gay was perfectly all right, and that if they wanted gay sex, all they had to do was ask Jerry. And they did. We had it arranged that some days room 244 would be for him and his trysts. That was all right with me, since I needed a day off once in a while. "And I met a few boys that were really, truly asexual. They didn't have any interest in either men or women. I told them that that was all right, too. They needed to hear that. There's a lot of pressure in the dorms to at least pretend to have a normal sex life, and it was causing these boys a lot of distress. It was a relief to hear somebody praising them for being who they are. I bet I did more real counseling for those boys than any of those people at the school clinic! "I was probably getting laid at least twice a day, sometimes three times. If it was a guy I really liked, I'd spend the whole day with him, getting him off two or three times, and masturbating myself in between. God, I was a horny bitch! I loved to finger-fuck myself in front of them, watching their eyes nearly pop out of their heads. When they got hard the second or third time, they could give me the shagging of my life, leaving me so that I was feeling no pain. You know, in later years, we'd hear about students with drug problems, who needed their fixes. I was kind of like that. I even used the school library to find out what I could about nymphomania; I wondered if I was normal or nuts. "I did talk to one of the psychology professors at the college, after swearing him to silence. It turned out that my case was unique; there was no medical record of any woman with the history of serial sex that I had. He suggested that it wasn't so much the sexual response that triggered it, but my craving for novelty. That was certainly true; after a few sessions with a lover, I would become bored. I knew what he'd do, I knew what his cock felt like in me. And I certainly didn't want him to get an emotional attachment to me, since I couldn't reciprocate it. We agreed that while my sex life certainly wasn't normal, it couldn't really be called dysfunctional, since it never interfered with the rest of my life. We had a series of interviews, and he ended up writing up my case in one of the professional journals. He gave me the pseudonym 'Jessamyn' and I'm sure you could dig it up if you don't believe me. "And those young men got some excellent training in sex! They learned what to do with a girl's clitoris. I was telling them about my G-spot even before I heard the thing called by that name. And I taught them about a woman's arousal patterns, and how she didn't always have an orgasm, and didn't need to. And I always made sure they learned their lessons! I should have been part of the curriculum, and getting paid as a teacher! But you can't have everything, I suppose. And I took some satisfaction in giving hundreds and hundreds of boys their first real lessons in how to make love. I like to think that they became better lovers, but I have no idea whether that was true. "OK, I know the next question you're going to ask me: did I ever get it on with more than one boy at a time? The answer is: yes, at first. Usually, they were already roommates, and wanted to act out something they'd fantasized, about fucking the same woman at the same time. But I stopped doing them after a while. It turned out to be harder on the guys than they thought it would be. Too much jealousy. One guy would be in me and the other guy wanted it, too, but they really didn't want to share. I wasn't into blowing one guy as I fucked another, like they always do in the skin flicks. It didn't get me off at all, so I figured: why do it? I was doing these guys a favor, not the other way around. And I didn't do anal at all. "Speaking of skin flicks, you also have to understand that I didn't always climax. In fact, I probably climaxed less than half the time. Every once in a while, I'd have an orgasm that went right through the roof, but the funny thing was that the next time I slept with the guy, it usually didn't happen again. I eventually figured out that it wasn't just the guys, and it wasn't just me, and it wasn't the phases of the moon, either. It either happened or it didn't. And when it didn't, it was still fun and pleasurable with the right guy. When a guy cums in you, particularly if it's his first time, there's a thrill of power that's almost better than a climax. I told that professor that, and he suggested that it could really be for that thrill that I was doing all this shagging. I think he was right about that. "And I never faked an orgasm. I never needed to. These guys didn't really care. In fact, when that movie came out, where they girl faked an orgasm in the cafeteria, a lot of guys were asking me if I could do that, too, to make it hotter for them. I said that I could, but I wouldn't. And they were fine with that, most of them. They were glad to be getting any pussy at all! "In fact, they were fine with just about anything. Their inexperience meant that they didn't have any real preconceptions of what the sex act was all about, so they were open to any suggestions and criticisms. Well, they had usually read some pornography, and maybe even seen some skin flicks, but it didn't take them long to realize that those things didn't have much to do with real sex. "In the early years, I screwed a few of the jocks, just for the novelty of it. But the funny thing was that they weren't as good at sex as the nerds were. They had this competitive thing, where every fuck had to be better than the last one. And they had grown up with everybody telling them how great they were, and they thought they already knew it all. I was never turned on by muscles, anyway. But a sweet kiss from a shy, trembling young man would go straight to my pussy. So I gave up on the jocks; they just weren't worth the trouble. And they were getting plenty of nooky anyway, from girls who usually didn't know their clit from their big toe. The blind leading the blind! Of course, I shouldn't talk. Those girls were on another power trip, since fucking the jocks made them more popular and desirable, at least in their own minds. "Well, I guess I was balling almost a hundred guys a year. They weren't just from my dorm. You know, word got out, and soon these guys were seeking me out instead of the other way around. So I had my pick of them. I always chose the lonely and insecure ones, the freshmen who were having trouble fitting in, the ones far from home. And, you know, they never blabbed to the administration. Not my guys, not Jerry's guys. Not one. "We were getting our condoms by mail order, because if we'd bought them at the local drugstore, it would have aroused some interest. I mean, who buys three or four hundred condoms in a year? And I only had two failures that resulted in a pregnancy. "The first time that happened, Jerry and I talked it over and decided to keep the kid. It was a boy. I don't know who his real father was, since I'd fucked four guys the previous week. But I didn't care, and neither did Jerry. And Jerry turned out to be the perfect father. He was a tenured professor by then, but it never occurred to us to resign our jobs as RAs. The cock was just too good to turn down! "The college wasn't prepared for an RA couple with a kid, but Jerry persuaded them to let us stay on. And I found out later that the students themselves started a campaign to keep us, and hundreds of letters from past and present students flooded the offices of the dean of students. Well, the administration couldn't afford to alienate all these potentially generous alumni, so they relented, even so far as giving us room 239 for the kid's bedroom. That room shared a wall with our suite. We knocked out the wall and put a door in there. "When the second kid, another boy, came along a few years later, we took that completely in stride. This time, I had a pretty good idea who the biological father was, but we didn't see any sense in ruining a young man's life by telling him that he had a kid he wasn't planning on. And both of our little boys grew up to be fine people. That stuff about gay people not being good parents is all bullshit, let me tell you. Jerry did everything that any heterosexual father would have done for them. The kids always knew he was gay, and it was fine with them, although both of them are straight. And having two kids certainly helped quiet the rumors about Jerry's sexual orientation. In those days, people weren't as tolerant as they are now, so the kids turned out to be good camouflage, so to speak. "Those two pregnancies kind of took the wind out of my sexual sails for a while, but after each baby was weaned, I would go back to taking care of the horny students who needed me. In fact, some of those students would baby-sit for me, to return a sexual favor. So I had plenty of time for screwing. The kids knew about that, too, because I didn't try to hide it, and they grew up thinking that it was perfectly normal for a mother to do. As for them, I've told them that they were happy to pursue any lifestyle they wanted, as long as it wasn't hurtful to somebody. We all accept each other as we are, and that's the best way to raise a family, in my opinion. "Well, room 244 was a very busy place over the years. In our first year there, Jerry somehow fixed it so we'd have it as a love nest. I think it had something to do with the computers being told that the room didn't exist anymore, so they never assigned a student to it. But room service would still change the sheets and clean the room. In return, I was always making them cookies for their lunch breaks, and I got to know quite a few of them over the years. The maids knew what was going on -- it's hard to ignore four or five discarded condoms in the trash can -- but they never said a word about it to anybody. "I'm not going to say that our love life would have worked for everybody. But I got what I wanted: a chance to make life easier for thousands of lonely students, and a never-ending supply of fresh hard cocks. I didn't need any emotional connection with any of them, since I had Jerry, and Jerry was all the emotional connection I needed. And he got a loving wife who cooked his meals and listened to his troubles and let him screw all the fine young men he wanted. And he got plenty of cock, too, although it was with a lower number of students, since the straight kids outnumbered the gay kids maybe eight to one. So his relationships with his lovers turned out to be somewhat deeper and more intense than mine, but that was all right with me. I just wanted him to be happy, and he was. The Dorm Mother "It all ended when Jerry died of a heart attack a few years ago. After that, the college let me know that they were replacing me with a new couple. It was okay with me. It was time to move on. I was entering menopause at the time, and the sex simply wasn't as important for me. I still enjoyed it, but I wasn't looking as hard for it. And I really wanted to move back to the town where I grew up. "Well, that's my story. I hope you don't end up judging me, but if you do, so what? It was my life, I lived it as I wanted to, and I don't regret a thing. Let me ask you: if you had a chance to have a loving husband, two beautiful kids, and a hundred adoring lovers a year, would you turn it down? Really? Be honest!" ********** After Alice finished her story, we were silent; it certainly didn't make sense to try to top it! So the conversation drifted off to other subjects. But I was curious to find out if her extraordinary story was true. As an alumna of the local state college, I had access to their library, so I spent an afternoon looking through back issues of their collection of psychological journals. And sure enough, I found a twelve-year-old issue that described "Jessamyn's" story, just as she told it. I won't bore you with the psychological jargon, but the gist of it was that "Jessamyn" was described as a woman with an extraordinarily high libido and a craving for sexual novelty who had made a successful adaptation to circumstances, an adaptation which would not have been possible had she not had access to a great number of accommodating lovers. The professor speculated that there might be many more women with this syndrome, but that the lack of opportunity and the social stigma associated with sexually aggressive women, combined with limited access to birth control, doomed these women to a life of lack of sexual fulfillment. He stopped somewhat short of recommending that society take steps to identify and accommodate this sort of woman, but the implication was there. And, you know, it made a lot of sense. Reading that article did something else for me: it flipped a switch somewhere. That night, I found myself masturbating, as I often do. Usually I don't climax when I do it; it's just a very pleasant sensation, and it's given me comfort in the years since my husband died. I was at my usual high degree of arousal, but couldn't get it higher. And then an image flashed in my mind of a young, virgin cock weeping precum, and suddenly I was over the edge. The intensity of the climax surprised me. And I wanted it, again and again. I realized that all my previous lovers had been experienced, take-charge guys, and I had at best been an equal, never an initiator. And I needed to find out what that was like. I took to frequenting the area coffeehouses, looking at the young men and fantasizing taking one of them home and fucking them. But fantasies were all they were; I was terrified of trusting a total stranger, fearing I'd end up like that poor girl who went looking for "Mr. Goodbar." And then I remembered Nathan. Nathan was a boy who grew up in the house next to ours. He used to mow our lawn and occasionally we'd chat, but he was painfully shy. His family moved away after his sophomore year in high school, and his mother and I kept in touch, so I learned that he'd returned to our town for college and was living in the dorms. After getting his email address, I made an appointment to meet him at the coffee shop. He hadn't changed much. His hands were a man's hands now, not a boy's, but his shyness was still there, and when I asked him if there was "anybody special" in his life, he stammered that there wasn't, and admitted that he really didn't have much experience with girls. At one point, I casually unbuttoned my top blouse button to show a little more cleavage, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from that glimpse of the valley of my tits. So I knew he was hetero, he was horny, and he was unconnected. Perfect. "Why don't we do dinner next Friday?" I suggested. "You can pick me up at my place." He agreed, and when he showed up at eight o'clock, I was ready for him. I'd bought a pack of three condoms at the supermarket, and was wearing my skimpiest "date bait" underwear underneath my sheath dress. I ushered him inside and then gave him a hug. And a kiss. And I wouldn't let him go. At first, he tensed. "I thought we were going out to dinner!" "No, dear," I purred. "I said we're doing dinner. Here. But I want to give you a little appetizer first!" And with that, I broke the hug, stepped back, unzipped the dress, and slipped out of it. My undies didn't hide much; he got a view of my full, matronly breasts with dark, hard nipples quite visible through the lace of the bra. Below that was a stomach that, for all my years, was still flat and unmarked. I saw his eyes travel downward to my crotch, with its camel-toe prominent in the front panel of the panties. The expression on his face was priceless. "Now it's your turn," I said. He blinked, smiled, and started to take his clothes off. He fumbled at his belt buckle, so I took over, unbuckling the belt and lowering his zipper as his shaking hands unbuttoned his shirt. Soon he was naked, his penis swelling and rising. I was surprised to see how well hung he was. His erection was about the size of my late husband's...maybe six or seven inches, so I knew I'd have no trouble accommodating it. I unhooked my bra and let it fall, giving my tits a shake as I grinned at him. Then I kicked out of my shoes and pushed my panties down, letting my tits swing just a little bit as I bent down. The expression on his face told me that he was my slave. "Let's take a shower first, and get nice and clean," I suggested. I took his hand and led him into the bathroom, and soon we were under the showerhead, our soapy bodies sliding against each other. "This kid won't last very long," I thought. So I masturbated him to an orgasm right there in the shower, an orgasm that brought spurt after spurt of semen from his cock, at first leaping up as far as his chin and finally just welling out of his cock onto my hand. His body trembled from the shock of his orgasm, and I confess that my own hand was shaking -- not from lust but from a sense of power sweeping over me. Then the moment passed, and we hugged. It took another fifteen minutes of drying and then cuddling in the bed before he started calling me Katie instead of "Mrs. Riley." Then his cock started hardening again and he was ready to enter me. I slipped a condom onto his erection, lay back, and guided its cap into the opening of my vagina. "Is this really your first fuck with a woman?" I asked. "Uh, yeah. But I think I know what to do." "Well then, just slide in and have fun." And he did. Once he got over the new sensation of a woman's vagina, his energy was astonishing. In his urgency, he didn't pay much attention to my needs, but I didn't care. That time would come. I was certainly aroused and lubricating like crazy, but nowhere close to an orgasm, and I thought briefly about faking one. But I heard Alice's voice in the back of my mind telling me to keep the experience authentic, and that's what I did. At last, with a final lunge, he ejaculated into me and went limp. I let him recover and then rolled him off my body. I stripped the rubber off his softening penis and tossed it into the bedside trash can. "Are you hungry now?" I asked. "Let's order a pizza. I've got some wine here somewhere." He murmured assent, and an hour later, we had made short work of a large pizza and a bottle of Cabernet and were back in bed, ready for more. He wanted to enter me again right away, but I had other plans. I spread my legs and pulled my labia apart, exposing my clit. "Now let me give you a little tour. This bump here is my clitoris. It's sort of like your penis, but needs different things. Now put your middle finger into my pussy. No, palm up. Feel around in there. Feel that little bump? Now listen carefully..." And so the lesson began. He hung on every word. After a while, I had him lie on his back and showed him how to unroll the condom onto his dick. Then I slipped his erection into me and moved up and down on it. I bent over him, supporting my weight with my arms as he played with my boobs. This time, I had no trouble reaching a climax, and came even before he did. My orgasm triggered his, which triggered another one of mine, which I heightened by leaning back so that he penetrated me fully and twisting my nipples. His knob pressed hard against my cervix, but the twinge of pain was lost in the sensation of my ecstasy. I could have stayed in that position for moments on end, but I felt his penis softening and quickly had him withdraw, so that the condom wouldn't leak. "Oh, Katie," he moaned. "I love you. I want you forever." "No, you don't," I whispered into his ear as I pulled the condom off his dick. "That's just lust talking. I think you know we have no future together. So let's just enjoy the moment, shall we?" "But I still want to do something for you. I'd give you anything!" I bit my lip. Well, Why not? I couldn't let this opportunity slip away. "You know, there is something, Nathan. Do you have any friends like you? Lonely, shy guys who've never been laid? Guys you could send my way?" "Shit, there's a whole dorm full of them! Let's see. Hector? No, not him. He's an asshole. Brendan? Yeah. Maybe. He's a nice guy, too. He's tutoring me in chem, and I really owe him a favor." "Give me two hours with him, and I guarantee he'll be your tutor for the whole semester!" He grinned, and I let him watch me masturbate as he recharged. He was entranced, and then I suggested that he get some experience eating pussy, which was something my late husband never cared for. But Nathan leapt at the chance, having no scruples against it, and followed my every whim. He licked my clit when I told him to, and stopped when I told him to stop. I got another small but sharp orgasm out of that, and rewarded him by letting him tit-fuck me without a condom, skin to skin. His last spend was meager, only a few drops, and when I told him to lick it up, he hesitated only momentarily, and dutifully began lapping it off my neck. I felt that wonderful sensation coursing through me again, not of lust but of power, of knowing that he was my slave. It was even better than lust! I was hooked. Well, after Nathan, it was Brendan, and after Brendan it was Joel, and after Joel it was...well, you get the idea. I'm up to twelve now, and I feel I'm just beginning! As for Alice, we saw her a few more times at the book club meetings, but in the fall she stopped coming. We later heard that she'd accepted a job with a Midwestern college as -- you guessed it -- a dorm mother. I suppose she decided that she couldn't forsake that lifestyle after all. When I heard the news, I thought, "That's a college with a lot of very lucky freshmen!" She'd left me her email address, and I wrote her to tell her of my conquests. Her answer as an invitation to visit her at her college some weekend. "I can fix you up with a date, I'm sure!" she wrote. "I'll put you up in room 244, if you know what I mean." I'm going up there tomorrow. I'd ask you to wish me luck, but I don't think I'm going to need it! And condoms are cheaper by the dozen... The Dorm Room Anne was our best friend. We were inseparable the last two years in college. My wife and I lived in university housing for married students, Anne in the towers across campus. On any giving night we could be found either in our apartment drinking and partying or in the dorm room doing the same. Somehow we still managed to get to class the next day. I still don't know how. This night found us an Anne's trying to console her latest failing attempt at a relationship. My wife and I couldn't understand it. Anne was pretty, sexy, petite, 5'3" tall, with the most incredibly green eyes I had ever seen. She had long silky blonde hair, and small but perfectly shaped tits. Her ass was tight and tiny, and her lips were just asking to be kissed. But no matter what she did, the guys would date her once and then vanish into the ozone. And it wasn't because she was a prude. She had often told us tales about "the one" she had meant last night at the Petals, our local drinking spot and how they had gone back to her dorm room and fucked each other crazy all night. Tonight was more of the same. This really cool guy with great big blue eyes, a great body, and an enormous bulge in his pants had picked her up at the club; they had grabbed a bite to eat and the pizza house and then retired to Anne's room. She proceeded to tell us all the sorted details. How they had practically ripped each other's clothes off as soon as the door was closed. How she had dropped to her knees and sucked his cock until it was rock hard. How he had picked her up, pressed her to the wall her legs draped over his shoulders and ate her pussy until she screamed. How she thought she would never be able to get his huge prick in her cunt but somehow had managed. You can imagine what the details were doing to my wife and I. We sat on the couch listening, she leaning against me between my legs, my arms wrapped around her waist, fingers entwined with hers. I knew she could feel me hard-on pressing into her back and she made little tiny movements against me to let me know she was aware. Anne's story continued, detailing the taste of this guy's cum, how big his balls where, no detail was left out. We were laughing so hard we had tears in our eyes. Before long I started to let my hand drift over my wife's belly, teasing the bottom of her tits with my fingers. I half expected her to push my hand away, because we where only four feet away from Anne, but on the contrary, she pushed herself harder against me. She was enjoying the sensation. As Anne's narration ran on, I became bolder and occasionally swept my hand across her tit, quickly at first as if I where just shifting my position, and then slowly, cupping and caressing her tit. I saw Anne's eyes focus on my hand as she spoke. After another ten minutes of "The Erotic Life of Anne" I started to stroke Susan's thigh starting at the knee and working up to just short of her pussy and back again. Within three strokes, Susan's legs drifted apart. She was obviously turned on by my attentions, Anne's story and the fact that Anne was watching the whole thing. Anne still talked. And I continued to test my wife's limits at this game. My hand settled directly on her cunt. I could feel the heat of her excitement though the denim. I kept my hand still, waiting to see if it got a reaction. Anne's eyes were glued to my hand. For a second she stopped talking and stared at my hand as if it were the sole focus of her life. She began her narration again, this time explaining her first attempt at anal sex with "Mr. Right" and as she got to the good part, my wife's hips moved up and against my hand, her legs closing on it, holding it against her. I pressed back to her, and for the next chapter of Anne's story, my wife pushed her pussy against my fingers as I worked them against her. My other hand had found its way under her short blouse and was playing with her nipple, pinching it and pulling at it until it became hard. Suddenly my wife reached down and undid the button fly of her jeans, spreading the fly open. She took my hand and slid it along the soft skin of her belly, under her panties and pushed it down until it was right on her pussy. Anne didn't miss a beat. One finger slid into her, spreading her swollen pussy lips, while another searched and found her clit. Slowly I rolled it beneath my finger while I finger fucked her. Anne went on to tell us about how good this guys cock tasted, that she could have sucked it for days if he had let her. And with this my wife lifted her hips and pushed her jeans down to her knees and pulled one leg out. I couldn't believe it. Anne was telling us dirty stories, I was finger fucking my wife in front of her and my wife was getting naked. What a great country, America! By this time, my cock was so hard it hurt. I kept pressing against my wife's back, but that wasn't doing it for me. I needed some attention. I stopped feeling her tit for a second and shifted her position so she was on her side against the back of the couch and took her had and put it on my cock. And Anne spoke on. Susan quickly grew bored with playing with my cock though my pants and proceeded to unbuckle my belt and pull my pants down far enough so she could put skin to skin. Anne's voice was getting a bit shaky at this point, but on she went. Soon Susan's lips had engulfed the tip of my cock and she was sucking furiously at it. My finger continued to finger fuck her and her hips moved more quickly against my hand. I looked over at Anne as she spoke and noticed she had her hand down the front of her sweat pants and was working her cunt over pretty furiously herself. And still she continued. She started to repeat herself, revisiting the sexual escapades of the previous night that excited her more and Susan and I raced each other to orgasm. I wasn't' sure if my wife was still paying attention to Anne (I sure was!) because she had managed to free my cock completely from my jeans and was giving me an incredible blowjob. He alternated between sucking me against the back of her throat, and letting her tongue trace the vein along the underside of my cock all the way to my balls. We were both ready to explode. The aroma of pussy was heavy in the room. It was then, as I was seconds from cumming down my wife's throat and she was ready to cum from my finger fucking that I noticed that the room was silent except for the sounds of my wife's wet cunt slurping under my fingers, Anne's pussy slurping under her fingers, and my wife's mouth sucking my cock. Anne had finally shut up. And then the lights went dim as all three of us moaned an animalistic primal moan. My wife's legs clamped around my hand as her hips fucked it in violent spasms of orgasm, Anne's hips rose from the couch in uncontrollable thrusts against her own fingers, and stream after hot white stream of cum rocketed down my wife's throat. When I awoke, my wife was still cradled between my legs; my now soft cock resting against her cheek, pearly white droplets of cum still clinging to her lips, and Anne was nowhere to be seen. I guess she is out looking for Mr. Right. I hope she finds him.