35 comments/ 77837 views/ 12 favorites Higher By: lgreenwood Author's Note: Thanks for reading! When finished, please take a few seconds and rate this story - one click is all it takes. And, if you have a minute, leave me feedback and tell me what you liked or didn't like. Cheers! If it wasn't for the snow I'd be home now, Shannon thought, safe in my own bed, curled up next to Jon instead of lying in a strange bed in a strange room with a stranger's head resting on my stomach. What was his name? Bill? Mark? Shannon looked down at the back of his head, watching it rise and lower with each breath she took, struggling to place his name. The room swam in and out focus and her thoughts moved sluggishly through an alcohol induced haze. She silently cursed the blizzard that cancelled all flights out of Denver. Fortunately, she'd been able to snag a room before the hotels filled up. The overly cheerful desk clerk had given her a coupon for a free drink at the hotel bar, all the while apologizing for the inconvenience caused by the weather. Shannon had called home frustrated by circumstances beyond her control but Jon soothed her, telling her everything was fine, Molly was fine, she should relax and go enjoy her free drink. That drink, of course, turned into a second and a third and, like that, she was deep in conversation with a fellow stranded traveler who couldn't get home to Chicago. She couldn't recall how many drinks she had with him, but she did remember he had kind eyes, a warm smile, a magical voice that instantly put her at ease, and, as she learned soon after, a magical tongue to match. Oh, God! His tongue! He didn't just lick with it - he massaged, he teased, he explored, he devoured. When she came she'd - what? Passed out? Blacked out? Fallen asleep? None of these felt right but she couldn't quite grasp the proper phrase. Wet heat pooled in her loins as she recalled their encounter and she desired nothing more than to run her fingers through his hair, to rouse him, to encourage him, to let him guide her into uncharted wilderness. But she stayed her hand, thinking of Jon and Molly and the mess she'd made. Guilt and shame descended swiftly and weighed heavily on her soul. How could she do this? How could she hurt Jon like this? He was a good husband and father. They had a good marriage, a great marriage when compared to other couples, and Shannon wanted no one else. A lone, silent sob racked her body. Nothing made sense at the moment. She had always been the faithful type, not just in her marriage but also in prior relationships. Sure, there had been a few times when she may have been tempted but not once had she strayed from the path. All it took was for her to think of her husband and her little girl and any hint of infidelity would vanish, like a puff of smoke on a windy day. It had worked every time, until tonight. This stranger had some sort of power over her, a kind of spell that made it difficult if not impossible for her to resist. She had to stop before it went any farther. Shannon surveyed her predicament and determined: one, she was completely naked; two, the man was stripped down to his briefs which most likely meant they hadn't actually fucked; and three, this wasn't her room so she may have a chance of sneaking out. Minutes passed as she planned how to extract her body from beneath his head without waking him. But just as she was about to make her first attempt, his hand caressed her inner thigh. She froze, hoping he was still asleep, but that hope was dashed when his lips brushed against her stomach, his tongue tickling her skin. Her mind screamed for her to push him aside, to grab her clothes and flee, to escape before any more damage was done. A simple two-letter word formed in her throat but caught there, unable to rise to her lips. The warmth of his kisses and the touch of his hand had re-stoked the fire burning deep within. She'd been reaching out, fully intending to push him away but instead her hand betrayed her, burying her fingers in his hair and urging him lower. Fingers glided over her sex, dancing lightly and enticing her outer lips to swell and unfold like a flower greeting the morning sun. The pool of wet heat spilled over the brim and Shannon imagined she heard a slight snick as her pussy parted for his fingers. He dipped into her, spreading her nectar all over her sex, painting her with her own juices, while his magical mouth continued its journey south. Her husband and daughter were a dim memory until she saw the gold band on her finger. With his lips nuzzling her clit, Shannon pulled her wedding ring off and set it on the nightstand. She turned away from Jon and Molly and focused all of her attention on Steve. The name suddenly popped into her head. His name is Steve, she thought as two finger slid into her. Murmurs and sighs of contentment escaped her lips as he slowly worked her over, laying a solid base to build her orgasm on. Steve rolled to his hands and knees next to her but facing away, his face buried in the V of her thighs, his hands under her buttocks. Fingers dug into her soft flesh, pressing close to her anus and sending a ripple of pleasure coursing through her. His tongue plunged with abandon, sending her soaring. She had always envisioned her orgasm as some sort of climb. Sometimes it was a mountain, other times it was a hill; and the higher the climb, the more intense the orgasm. And when the peak was reached her spirit would plummet quickly back down to where she started. But with Steve, there was no peak, only a plateau of heightened sexual awareness and tension, and a desire for more. Once reached, he kept her there before starting another ascent. She imagined a succession of plateaus, each more beautiful than the preceding, climbing up to the heavens. She yearned to visit them all. At the next plateau, Shannon caressed his ass through the cotton briefs, feeling the power of his muscles rippling just below the surface. She cupped the bulge between his legs, feeling the fullness of his balls and measuring his length. When his finger grazed across her anus, her finger responded automatically, pushing between his buttocks, kneading the hard knot of muscle through his underwear, encouraging him. Each new sensation drove her onward, upward. Her body writhed under his touch. His tongue ran from the top of her clit down to the bottom of her pussy and a little past, hinting at something more, something she had only dreamed of. That's it, she thought as the tongue danced over the sensitive skin, that's what I want. All those years of sleeping with Jon and all the times when he asked me what I wanted, not once did I have the courage to tell him. Instead I'd always hoped he would take the lead, he would be the adventurous one and would somehow stumble upon what I secretly desired. Now a complete stranger was exploring my body the way my husband should have, maybe would have if only I'd found the words. Why is it easier to have sex than it is to talk about it? This stranger was taking her higher than she'd ever thought possible. Something new was created inside her at that moment, something wild and carnivorous and born from lust. With frantic fingers she clawed his underwear off and wriggled under his body, his pre-cum smearing across her face. She eagerly wrapped her lips around his fleshy tip, her tongue flicking wildly. Shannon took him deeper than she'd taken any man, greedily devouring him. The effect on Steve was immediate. He paused and groaned before continuing his tongue lashing. He drove her higher and higher until the pressure and tension became too great for her to focus on anything but the ever-bulging dam holding back the molten lava of her orgasm. She lay back and moaned loudly, helpless. Steve pumped his hips, dipping his cock into her mouth over and over, muffling her cries. Within moments every nerve in her body fired at once as if a jolt of electricity had shot through her. But instead of receding, the sensation rolled over her again and again like waves crashing on the shore, and Shannon felt herself drifting off the plateau and up into darkness. She could still hear her cries of ecstasy but now they sounded far away, dreamlike. Below her was a bright, white ball of light with four arms streaming out from it, like a spiral galaxy seen from such a great distance individual stars are indiscernible. Shannon understood at once: she was that galaxy adrift in her own private universe. Eventually, the brightness dimmed and cooled and her cries subsided. Shannon drifted down toward the galaxy until the light filled her vision and she found herself back in the hotel room lying on her stomach. Cum seeped from her mouth forming a puddle on the sheet. She wasn't aware until that moment that he'd climaxed, too. Hands massaged her ass as wet kisses covered her back, starting between her shoulders and slowly moving lower and lower. His mouth explored the cleft of her buttocks, moving lower still. She briefly thought to protest and stop him but when his hands spread her ass cheeks and his tongue flicked across her bunghole, all remnants of resistance fled her and she was completely his. She scooped his seed from the sheet and sucked it off her fingers, savoring every taste, every smell, every sound, every touch as his tongue wormed its way inside her. She squirmed beneath him, the lust flaring up again. She was pulled back onto her knees and the head of his cock pressed against her pussy. The tip caught at once and he slid deliciously inside, filling her. Within minutes she was back on that plateau, eager to be taken to the next. A moistened thumb massaged her anus, slowly working inside her and she let out a long, low moan. She was close to drifting away once more when his cock slid from her pussy. "Tell me what you want." "Please," she moaned, his thumb still buried in her ass. "Please, what?" "You know," she whimpered, turning her head to look back at him. "No, I don't. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you want me to do to you." She couldn't bring herself to say it. It was so obvious, why didn't he just do it! Ever so slowly, he withdrew his thumb and she groaned in frustration. She thrust her hips back against him, his cock pushing at her tight hole. "That," she whispered. Her whole body trembled in anticipation. Even though he was barely touching her she was close to coming again. "Tell me. Say it." His cock was gone now and his hands held her hips firmly in place. How could she say it? How could she tell a stranger to do something she never thought she wanted? The knob of his cock poked at her ass playfully, teasing the words to the surface. Shannon swallowed hard. "Please," she begged, "please, fuck me in the ass." A kiss brushed the middle of her back and her head was gently pushed back down onto the bed. She looked at the nightstand where her wedding band sat just as she left it, standing on end like a golden eye, staring in a cold and silent accusation. She turned away as he entered her. Tomorrow, and the days and weeks and months after, she would have plenty of time to ponder her guilt and shame, and to deal with the consequences of this night. For now, there was only the white, hot lust burning brightly at the center of her universe. It was all that mattered. Higher and Deeper: Emma It's taken me six years to do my Ph.D. Some take less time, some a lot more. I can't complain; for the most part, I've really enjoyed the experience. There were all kinds of great intellectual, social, and cultural experiences, of course. But you don't want to hear about those. You want to hear about fucking. Fortunately, I also collected some great sexual experiences in those six years that make for some pretty good stories. So, yeah, these are true stories. Mostly true, anyway. Let's say, oh, 88% or so. With selective memory and weed and alcohol and being what they are, a B+ isn't all that bad, right? My name's Paul. In the interest of honesty (and building credibility), I'll freely say that I've never been the guy who gets constantly laid. I'm on the short side, nice-looking but not especially handsome. Average build, maybe a little chubby. Certainly no porn-star 9" cock here. An introvert, though a pretty friendly one, I think. But I'm smart and funny and very good with words, and with that and my ability to understand what's going on in girls' minds, I've had my fair share of sex. More than my share, in some particularly good weeks. One of the great things about grad school is that there's a wide range of options: age, ethnicity, social class, personality. You have crazy teen undergrads who will try just about anything. Or prissy princesses who are only there because their daddies donated to the school. Or cerebral 20-something intellectuals. Or newly-hired 30-something faculty or staff. In this particular case, I had Emma. Emma was 18 when I met her, 19 when we started dating. I was 31. Not only was she a teenager, she had been in one of my super-sized first-year classes the semester before. Physically, she wasn't a type I'd gone after much: fiery freckles, red-blonde hair, and very pale blue eyes. Very cute, though. She was about my height, maybe a little taller (not hard, as I'm only about 5'7") and skinny, very skinny; I remember seeing her in her sleeveless tops and thinking I could probably fit my hands—themselves hardly large and strapping—around her upper arms. Not quite true, as it turned out, but pretty close. Her arms, her legs, her neck were all almost impossibly long and slender. Her waist was tiny, her ass modest. Only her breasts stood out—not large in an objective sense but conspicuous given their surroundings. She was an extrovert. Not an obnoxious one. One of the friendly ones, the kind who are always saying hello to new people and volunteering during the weekends and organizing things. And she was very religious. In background and belief, certainly, but even more so in culture and practice—it really meant something to her. She planned on eventually getting a degree in theology and marrying a Nice Young Man. As far as I know, she still plans on doing both. I ran into her at the library in the first week of the new semester. We talked for a minute, and I impulsively asked if she wanted to get something to eat. She was almost as surprised as I was but said yes. Midway through our early dinner, she asked, "Is this a date?" I said, "Yeah. I think so." And she looked at me for a second, then smiled and went back to her burger. "Okay, cool," she said. Because she lived on campus, we spent most of our alone time at my place. We interspersed conversations about philosophy and sports and how weird this was—the differences in age, religion, etc.—with extended make-out sessions. I remember when I first ran a hand over her breast her tongue flinched a little in my mouth, but she didn't stop, and when my hand returned to linger she moaned softly. That did it. The shirt came off, then the white undershirt—there was no bra. She was very shy and very aroused. "They're beautiful," I told her, and then I proved it by kissing them. Firm and freckled and rose-tipped, they responded eagerly to my lips and tongue. "Oh my god," she said in a breathless yet strangely matter-of-fact way. "No one's ever done that before. I mean, uhm, not like that..." A few days after that we were lying on the couch in my living room. She was only wearing a tank top and shorts. I traced the length of her legs, skinny and smooth and pale, with one hand, then moved up her slender hip and lingered on her small, flat stomach. A runner's body. "I was on the track team, you know. I was really good." The track team. This girl had been on her high school track team, what, three years ago? Two? I shook my head and moved my hand up to her tits and kissed her, leaning in over her, on her. At a certain point my cock against her leg must have become too obvious to ignore because she said, "You know I can't have sex." I did know, and I knew why, but that didn't keep me from asking. "I have to be a virgin. I mean, I want to be. When I get married. I don't want to be a hypocrite about that. That's something I want to give my husband." I told her I understood, which I did, and that it was fine, which it really wasn't. But she relaxed visibly at that—had she been so worried, and I hadn't even noticed?—and then after a few more kisses she said with exaggerated casualness, "There is something I could do, though." "There is," I agreed. She reached down and began rubbing me, inexpertly if enthusiastically, over my pants. After a few minutes of that, I told her, "Unzip me." She did, then hesitated. I didn't say anything; I wanted to see what she would do. When no further instructions were forthcoming, she took the initiative to free my cock and began to stroke it. I smiled and moved to get comfortable, and when she saw that I was enjoying it, her enthusiasm increased. After a few minutes, I stood, dropped my jeans and underwear to the floor, and sat back down on the couch. She smiled and nodded but said, "I've only done this once before. I mean, more than once, but just one guy. My ex." I tried to think of what to say that would both be reassuring and continue the process. "I'm sure you'll be great," I said. Not the smoothest line ever, but it worked. She knelt down on the floor in between my legs, ran her fingers up and down my thighs a few times, then without any real preamble lowered her head and began to bob it up and down quite vigorously. She paused a few times to check in with me, self-conscious but gamely conscious of it. "Is that good?" she asked, half-archly and half-curiously. It wasn't great, but I wasn't going to be a jerk about it. "What do you think?" I responded. "I think it's pretty good," she said, allowing herself a mischievous grin. "Then get back to it," I said, taking a handful of red hair. She laughed and did. When I got close, I used that handful of hair to control her rhythm. When I came, she swallowed. We never had sex, and I only went down on her twice—she was very uncertain about that—but she loved it when I fingered her: "A guy has never made me cum before," she told me once. I found it very charming how arousal could move her from subdued, even a little prim, to vocal and obscene. She would get a little embarrassed if I grabbed her ass in the elevator or frown in disapproval if I made a dirty joke at dinner, but once she was turned on the "fuck"s and "tits" and "cock"s would come out. She didn't like porn and hated the idea of facials—"it seems so demeaning"—but once or twice after particularly passionate kneeling blow jobs she told me to cum on her tits, and once she almost shyly asked me to cum on her stomach. "I want to be a good girl," she told me once, "but sometimes I kinda want to be a slut." Her eyes lit up when I told her she could be both. She loved language, loved to be told what to do and how to do it; she loved hearing about the effects she had on me. "Did you ever fantasize about me when I was in your class?" she asked one night. We had just gotten back from a concert on campus and were getting a drink in the kitchen; she was very cute in a strapless black dress that showed her skinny freckled shoulders. "Yes," I said. It was true; it was also true that I'd fantasized about a number of her classmates as well, but I decided I probably didn't need to tell her that. "Like what?" she asked. "Well, I remember thinking once how I'd love to slide those skinny jeans off your skinny legs, bend you over my desk, and fuck the shit out of you." As I spoke I came up behind her, circled her little waist with my hands and pulled her into me as I kissed her bare neck and shoulders. She gently rubbed her ass against my crotch. "Poor boy. You'll never get to live out your fantasy." Bitch, I thought with a grin. "What about you? How often were you sitting there in class fantasizing about sucking off your teacher?" I unzipped her dress a little and yanked it down so that it fell to her waist. She gasped as I reached around to grab her tits and went back to kissing her neck. Then she laughed. "A few times," she admitted. "I thought it would be pretty hot to suck your dick there in the classroom between classes." "My what?" I pushed forward, letting her feel the organ in question against her ass. She was breathing hard now. "Your cock," she said. He right hand was raised, fingers moving through my hair, while her left snuck down behind her, between us, grasping. "I wanted to suck your cock, professor." I wasn't a professor, of course, but it was a turn on for both of us when she said it. I kept one hand on her tits and brought the other up to pull on her hair, jerking her head backward. "You little slut," I whispered. Usually that would have elicited a dark look or possibly even a lecture, but she was way too into it now. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I am a slut, I'm your little slut. I love your cock, love to make it get big with my words or my hands or my mouth." I unzipped her dress the rest of the way, and with a wiggle and pull from her, it hit the kitchen floor. She stood there in just a pair of black panties, her body pale and smooth and firm. I didn't even bother with my belt. I just unzipped my pants and pulled out my cock. "Suck it, Emma." She immediately squatted down and wrapped her thin lips around the end of my cock, swirling her tongue around the head. I flipped my tie over my shoulder so that it wouldn't get in her way. "You know what I like, don't you, Emma? You know how to please my cock." She pulled back and smiled. "Yes, professor. I wasn't an expert cock-sucker before, but this semester you've taught me how to please you." She licked my shaft a few times, then planted a quick series of kisses on it. "I love knowing that I can give you pleasure, that I can make you cum. I love—" Whatever else she was going to say got lost as I pulled her up to her feet and out of the kitchen. Not only did we not make it to the bedroom, however, we didn't even make it to the couch. I laid her down on the carpet. "Touch yourself," I told her, and she did, one white hand disappearing under the black panties while she watched me strip. As soon as I finished, I knelt over her little body. She took my cock with both hands and started to jerk me off, but I shook my head. "Put them the ground, above your head." She complied. I lowered myself to let my cock and balls rest on her stomach, then rubbed them across the smooth, taut skin. Slowly I began to move up, letting them drag across her stomach and tits until I was kneeling over her head. "Open your mouth," I said. She did, and I lowered my cock into it, sliding it in and out slowly at first, then picking up speed and pushing further. "I won't fuck your cunt," I told her, "but I'm sure as hell going to fuck your pretty face." For a few seconds there were only my grunts, her moans, the wet sounds of my cock and her mouth, and the occasional sound of gagging when I pushed a little too deep. I had planned to shoot my load deep in her throat, but when my body started to tense I knelt up again, my trembling cock above her face. "Are you my good little slut, Emma?" "God, yes," she managed. "Then what do you want?" "I want it on my face. Cum on my face, Paul, make me yours, cum all over my face, cum—" I did, hard. The first blast hit her cheek and forehead, and she closed her eyes as the next ones hit her lips and chin. She looked amazing with strands of my white cum on her freckled skin and red hair. When she opened her pale blue eyes, it was even better. We dated for a few months that semester before she found a pleasant, unremarkable new boyfriend from among thelargely interchangeable undergrads. That was fine. I didn't begrudge her a more normal college relationship, and I had other interests myself. She's a senior now, and we haven't really kept in touch. But we do see each other occasionally on campus and I give her a smile and a wink. She often looks a bit embarrassed but always smiles back. Higher Education I was eighteen and it was my first time away from home. I was in my freshman year at Western University studying Sociology. My older brother was in his third year of "Jogging for marks", a.k.a. Phys Ed and a halfback on the football team. Western was far enough from home, about thirty-five miles, to justify dormitory living. I was billeted in Glenolden Hall with a somewhat overweight roomie. Glenolden was a co-ed residence. As many students were under the legal age to drink alcohol was not served at any of the university-sponsored functions and I.D. was required in the on campus watering holes. Off campus life was something else. University rules made it compulsory for all first year students to live in residence. After first year they could choose a sorority house or rent accommodation off campus. I had been popular in high school and was quickly becoming one of the most dated girls in Glenolden. Standing five foot six with blonde hair and a 38C bust with a weakness of dropping my panties far too easily I did not waste too many nights on homework. Almost every weekend I could be found in the fraternity house where my brother lived. There were thirteen resident in the Mustang House, all footballers. It was about a month into my first semester I got to "meet" the guys at Mustang House. As it was my brother's residence I just naturally dropped by to visit. I remember it well; it was a Friday night after a particularly trying day at classes. I was greeted at the door by T.J. and shown in. T.J. got me a beer and told me Rob was in the shower and would be down in a few minutes. T.J. is a black guy, one of the linesmen on the team. He hailed from Detroit and was at Western to play ball. T.J. eyed me as I sat opposite him in the main sitting room. I was not dolled up or anything, just a pair of jeans and a Roots tee shirt. I was wearing no bra, which came off right after classes, and I guess my nipples were pretty obvious through the thin cotton. After about ten minutes of small talk Rob joined us. T.J. replenish my beer while I touched base with my brother. I was on my third beer and quite relaxed when Ron Fisher came in. Ron was the "lady's man" the much sought after fist string quarterback of the Western Mustangs. "How come a pretty lady like you is not dancing?" Fisher asked turning some music on the stereo. The beat of Tina Turner's "Proud Mary" had me springing to my feet. The guys watched fascinated while I shook my booty for them. "Show us some tit!" I heard Fisher call out. Boldly I lifted the hem of my shirt high enough to expose the bottom portion of my bare breasts. "Yoohooo!!!" T.J. yelled in appreciation. A couple of inches more and my big pink nipples were uncovered. As Proud Mary raced down the river I shamelessly pulled my top completely off allowing my big boobs to bounce wildly unrestrained. "Oh yea!" T.J. cheered. They were completely under my spell as my fingers went to unfasten my jeans. Seductively I opened the blue denim jeans and tugged them down over my wide hips allowing them the first peek as my black thong. I continued to dance in only my thong giving them opportunity to study the movement of my bare hips and jiggling of my bare breasts as Proud Mary approached New Orleans. I flung my thong to Fisher as the music abruptly ended. My next dance was slow and sensuous to the chords of "Sea of Love. I gyrated my hips for the guys thrusting my shaven pussy at the in an exaggerated initiation of fucking. I cupped my bare breasts, squeezed them, and offered them in temptation to my mesmerized audience. It was too much for them to resist and Fisher took me first. He took me on one of the couches. Having no doubt bonked an endless bevy of students he was a skilled lover and his hard meat slid into me in one smooth stroke. In seconds I was full of cock and being fucked. In the unwritten code of Mustang House T.J. and Rob did not intervene, just sat there and watched Fisher bring me to an orgasm. Feeling his obligation as a host Rob allowed T.J. to have his sister next. His black cock felt about a foot long and the diameter of my forearm as he stretched me beyond what Fisher's cock had. It felt so good with his powerful hips driving his huge cock into my ravaged pussy. I was secreting lubricant and with the cum Fisher had left in me T.J.'s cock made a soft squishing noise from the suction of his movement in me. T.J. was my second black lover and I was accustom the unique way his cock danced in me. My hips fell into sync with his as we went for the gusto. A soft grunt and the warm sensation of cum flowing into me again signaled T.J.'s arrival to Cumsville. My back arched and my hips rose to meet him at the station. I was dripping with the sperm of two bulls when Rob mounted me. It was homecoming time. My brother and I had been lovers since my first week at Western. For years we had wanted to fuck but had no opportunity under the close scrutiny at home. Now I was free to take his sperm any time I wished. "Way to go Michelle." Rob said as he slid into my sloppy cunt. His cock wallowed in the messy cum soup his buddies had left in my caldron. "You're such a slut." he grinned as he enjoyed his trashy little sister. It was a slow leisurely fuck, as we both knew there would be many more times we would be joined sexually. I kissed my brother as the head of his cock soaked in the depths of my womb. After that Friday I returned to Mustang House once or twice a week. One by one I eventually fucked every one of its occupants. Many nights I would stay over and serve as the slut for whoever didn't have a date. I was soon well known as the "fuck mascot" of the Western Mustangs. Not even any of the cheerleaders had fucked the entire team. With my reputation firmly established it came as no surprise when Professor Lawrence Gooding approached me to be his intern. It was not uncommon for professors to select freshmen as interns but they were usually of their discipline. Gooding was Geology and I was studying Sociology. Gooding was a distinguisher educator holding a doctorate as well as several honorary degrees in his chosen field. It would be considered an honor to serve him. At fifty-eight Gooding was estranged from is wife who lived in Florida. His closest relative was his thirty-five year old married daughter living in fashionable North York with her doctor husband. Gooding himself lived in an ancient brownstone a few blocks from campus. Gooding had interviewed me in his faculty office and when I accepted his offer he invited me for dinner at his residence Friday evening to consummate the arrangement. Wearing a pink party frock I took a cab to Gooding's. I paid the driver and went up the walk to the big Oak door and hammered the iron knocker three times. Gooding opened the door attire in a dinner jacket with a silk ascot around his neck. "Come in Dear." Gooding invited. The dinner table was laid out with crisp white linen napkins and elegant silverware. A bottle of red wine was decanting on the table by a bouquet of white Pinocchio Chrysanthemums and Baby's Breath. Gooding pulled out my chair as I was seated and then his housekeeper brought in a tureen of a wild rice soup. Gooding poured the wine and we enjoyed a very lovely meal while we exchanged information. After the housekeeper served tea and cleared the table Gooding dismissed her for the night. Shortly after she came in to bid Gooding goodnight before retiring for the evening. We adjourned to Gooding's study where he offered me a drink from his well-stocked liquor cabinet. I took a Crown Royal with ginger and sat on the overstuffed dark red lather couch. The dinner wine was already clouding my head and making me inappropriately giddy. "I understand you enjoy making love Miss Greene?" Gooding asked. "I like fucking professor." I corrected him. "Would you like me to fuck you?" Gooding retaliated. His bedroom was furnished with antic Maple furniture. A large rough-hewn dressing table and matching chest of drawers with a huge four-poster bed dominating the center of the room. A silent butler was in one corner holding Gooding's suit ready for next day. "You may use the washroom to get comfortable." Gooding suggested. I slipped into the en suite washroom while Gooding turned down the bed. I looked at myself in the mirror as I brushed my hair before making my entrance. I was completely naked except for the single strand of pearls my mother had given me for my eighteenth birthday. Final sprits of Jon Patou's "Joy" and I opened the door. Gooding was waiting in the bed when I emerged nude from the bathroom. I went directly to the bed and threw the covers back. There in the midst of a forest of pubic hair stood the towering Redwood of Gooding's erection. Snuggling in the bed beside his I took his member in my hand and guided it into my mouth. My lips closed around the trunk as my tongue explored its length. Gooding moaned in delight as my tongue caressed the entire length of his shaft and swirled over the sensitive helmet. His hands were on the back of my head gently forcing his cock down my throat. Skillfully I deepthroat his entire cock until my lips were pressed against its hairy base. One, two, three spurts of thick salty cum surged into my mouth. I held his precious jism on my tongue whilst I moved up to kiss him. Our tongues intertwined in Gooding's cum until it had all been ingested. His appetite have been stirred Gooding urged me to straddle his face with my hungry cunt. The professor's tongue went on a sensuous expedition into my cave of hidden treasures. Briefly I wondered how many young girls had felt this tongue in them? Gooding quickly found my trigger and relentlessly tongue mauled my clitoris until my orgasm fed him what he desired. As he smacked his lips on my maiden juice I moved my ass down to where his cock was waiting for service again. I grabbed his hard on and guided it to my opening as I lowered my haunches onto him. He slid into my wetness with ease as I impaled myself on his love stick. My pussy twitched as I contracted around his cock gently squeezing it with the wall of my vagina. "Oh yes!" I moaned as I rose up again, his cock pulling my vagina as if it were a tight fitting sock. It was a leisurely fuck as my pendulous tits hung inches from his face. Playfully his lips snapped at my tempting nipples. I rocked back and forth slowly as he moved in and out of me. My ass pressed my cunt down hard on his cock. My legs were spread wide on either side of him making me totally vulnerable to his attack. I found a pace that would prolong Gooding's presence inside of me and carefully avoided making him cum too soon. "Oh God you are good!" he moaned as he caressed my back. "I know!" I smiled. I awoke with the sun streaming in the window and Gooding's face buried in my crotch. I closed my eyes and enjoyed my first orgasm of the day. University life is good. I think I may choose to become a "professional student"? Higher Education Note: All characters in this story are over eighteen years of age. This story was based on an actual event but names have been changed to protect two of the people still living. Events have been compressed for sake of time and space and took place before there was a need to practice safe sex. It was only two weeks before the fall semester would be back in session so Marlene and I were busy getting ready for the big event. I usually spent the morning in my office talking to students or getting copies of tests and handouts stapled. Marlene on the other hand worked all day and usually into the early evening making sure student schedules were complete and professor's classes were reasonably balanced. When I pulled into the driveway Friday evening Marlene was already home and talking to our next door neighbor, Edith, across the fence; actually a line of thick, chest high trimmed shrubs. I greeted them and gave Marlene a quick kiss so she could continue her conversation. As the girls talked I moved one of my hands up the back of Marlene's skirt and gave her sweet ass cheeks a few gentle squeezes. I showed deep interest in their conversation as my hand rubbed, pinched, and patted the sweetest ass in the neighborhood. My hand trailed lower to the space between her legs where it was warm and very often damp. A smile broke out on my face and Marlene paused her conversation and smiled back. What my fingers found in the dark, damp recess between her smooth thighs was evidence that someone else had been there since I had last explored it early that morning. The crotch of her panties was stiff from someone's dried semen that had oozed from her cunt; I knew it would be a very exciting evening. I pretended to scratch my nose so I could enjoy the aroma of the nectar I had discovered but Marlene immediately knew what I was up to and announced to Edith that she had to get inside so we could get dinner ready. We said our good nights and headed inside the house where we could share the adventures of her day. By the time I put my brief case down Marlene was bent over the kitchen counter with her skirt up asking, "Was there something in my panties you found interesting?" I quickly moved behind her and pulled her panties down then dropped to my knees; I kissed her flanks and the cheeks of her ass. I could clearly see her pubic hair was matted with dried semen and several small spots of dried fluid on the inside of her thighs. I inhaled the musky aroma of her juices mixed with someone's cum but decided to forego the taste test and stood up and drove my cock into her sloppy cunt. As I pulled back on her hips Marlene pushed against me with her arms. Our bodies smacked together and I teased her with, "Edith is listening to us fuck. She is touching her wet cunt listening for you cry out." Marlene loved the thought of someone listening or even watching her fuck. She didn't hold back and began to wail, "Oooh yes Daddy, make me cum! Fuck me harder Daddy!" on and on until she went limp on the counter. Before she moved away from the counter I pulled up her panties so she could capture her second load of gooey cream for the day. She turned around and dropped to her knees to give me a good cleaning. We held each other in our arms and kissed gently for several minutes before we started moving around to fix dinner. We sipped wine as we cooked dinner and talked about her conversation with Edith about her resent trip to Jamaica. We wanted to wait until we were through eating to share other details of her day so we would not be distracted. It was dark outside by the time we were ready to sit down to eat; I was wearing my boxers and Marlene was wearing her gooey wet, lacy pink, bikini panties. I poured more wine, lit candles, and put on some light jazz. Once we finished eating and cleared the table she was ready to tell me about her day. I poured another glass of wine as she set the background with, "Do you remember the older Harvard professor you met at the university's Christmas party last year?" I thought for a minute then replied, "Yes, he was tall with a white beard. I believe he was quiet old, wasn't he?" She replied, "He is now eighty-two and yes he was the tall fellow with the white beard." I immediately started thinking, Wow! Where is this going to go? Then she began to tell her story: ********** I went the Professor's office this afternoon to go over his schedule of classes and student load rather than having him to come to the admin office and have to climb all the steps there. I knocked gently on his office door then stuck my head in; "Dr. Paul I apologize for stopping by without an appointment...." He turned in his swivel chair and cut me short by saying, "A beautiful woman does not need an appointment to see a man my age. You are always welcome to stop by any time." I blushed slightly and thanked him for the compliment. The compliment was not a pick up line or an attempt to hit on me; I truly felt it came from the heart. As he looked over the schedule I looked around his office. His impressive credentials hung on the walls where there were spaces without book shelves. He had a window that looked out over the campus center where students would soon be rushing to and from classes. In the center of the room was a settee, a beautiful antique Queen Anne piece that was a narrow half stool and half sofa. When he saw my interest in it he said, "I had that moved from my house so I can rest between classes." I commented how pretty it was and he nodded agreement. As he studied the schedule he accidentally knocked some papers off the desk and onto the floor. I moved to pick them up for him but was not able to be very lady like with the short skirt I was wearing. When I looked up I caught him looking up my skirt. He did not divert his eyes so I said with a coy smile, "Professor, a gentleman would avert his eyes to allow a girl some modesty." But he replied, "Perhaps when I was younger I would have but at my age I have to take advantage of every opportunity to enjoy such a beautiful site of a beautiful woman. Please forgive me." The comment almost broke my heart so I replied, "Then, if you won't think badly of me, please enjoy the view." I opened my legs a bit more and he smiled. I was glad that I had worn a pair of lacy pink, bikini panties instead of my usual white cotton ones. When I stood up he thanked me but I wasn't sure if it was for picking up the papers or the peek up my dress. I put the papers on his desk and leaned over to kiss his cheek. He slowly stood up and wrapped me in his arms and just held me for several minutes; I could feel his whole body tremble. I enjoyed the feel of his tall body against me and the aroma of the cherry pipe tobacco which permeated his clothing. I felt something against my stomach, something that hung down the inside of his leg; it did not feel hard but it did feel very firm. I decided I wanted to touch it and moved my hand down its length from its source low on his stomach to its tip. I lifted my head to show my surprise and he covered my mouth with his. His arms moved lower so his hands could squeeze my bottom. I looked him in the eyes and asked him, "Does your office door lock?" I took his hand and moved him to the settee before I went to lock the door. When I returned to stand in front of him his hands moved to the backs of my thighs; I could feel them tremble as he moved them upward to my ass. "Would you like to help me slip out of my panties?" Without a word his eyes sparkled as his hands moved to the waist band of my panties and began to pull them over my hips and down my legs. He bent over and held them as I lifted each foot out then he raised them to his face, closed his eyes, and then inhaled deeply. As he enjoyed my aroma I removed my skirt and blouse and laid them across the arm of his desk chair. I confessed: "Dr. Paul, as a young freshman I used to sit in your western civilization lectures and dream of you suckling my nipples; I would get so aroused." I stood nude in front of him except for my thigh high stocking and heels. As he suckled and kissed my small breasts I pulled his suspenders off his shoulders. When he had me so hot I couldn't stand it any longer I pushed him gently backwards so he could lie back on the inclined arm of the settee. I immediately moved to unfasten his slacks and pull them down almost to his knees. I reached inside his boxer shorts to find the firm, swollen item that I had felt earlier against my stomach; I brought it out to see. His private credentials in my hand were as impressive as the professional ones which hung on the wall. While it was not hard and erect it was stiff and large. He moved his hands to my hips and guided me closer, telling me, "I want to see you, taste you, and smell your aroma." I lifted my leg and moved it across his chest to give him easier access to my cunt. Facing his feet I lowered my head close to his lap and took his swollen cock in my hand. I took my time sliding back the foreskin to expose the large purple head to my lips then my mouth. I could feel his lips, tongue, and fingers exploring my complete undercarriage as my lips, tongue, and fingers explored his shaft and balls. I let him play and explorer all he wanted to before I turned my head back and asked, "Would you like to feel this in me?" He responded, "I certainly do if you think it is hard enough." I lowered my head to take him into my mouth so he could see he was stiff enough. "I have no doubt it will work and work wonderfully." I squeezed the base of his shaft to trap the blood in it then lowered my hips to slide it into me; I watched his face as he disappeared into my thick patch of pubic hair. It was easier for me to ride him by moving my hips back and forth rather than up and down so he would stay completely in me. There was certainly enough to completely fill my very warm and wet cunt; had he been hard and erect it may have been too much for me to take. After several minutes I made a complete one-eighty turn so he could see me completely open, his cock buried in my glistening pink membranes, and surrounded by my thick wet pubic hair. I squeezed my muscles around his shaft to make my tightly puckered rose bud dance for him as I slid back and forth on his stiff shaft. After another one-eighty I sat straight up holding the base of his cock with one hand and his balls with the other then started working my hips back and forth. He closed his eyes, his breathing increased, and moans and sighs escaped his mouth. I kept a steady pace and moaned with him, telling him, "Oh Yes, Dr. Paul, fill me with your semen. I want to feel it in me, oozing from me. Fill me please!" He moved his hips up to meet my thrusts. His hands squeezed my tits; I felt a pulse at the same time I heard a loud moan then he went limp. I milked his cock with my cunt as his arms reached out to me and pulled me close. His hand moved through my hair as he softly said, "Oh my beloved." I wondered who he might have been making love to while his cock was in me. I moved off the settee and again bent over exposing my backside to him so he could get one more look at a woman's cunt dripping with his creamy semen before I stepped into my panties and pulled them up my legs. I touched his face and said, "That was very special to me." He replied, "That was a memory I can carry with me till the end of my days." ********** Marlene leaned over to give me a kiss saying, "And that, my darlin, is where the sloppy mess you found in my panties and cunt came from." She drank the last bit of wine from her glass then moved between my legs. I was already rock hard from listening to her story; I sipped my wine as her mouth, lips, and tongue worked their magic. Although my body completely enjoyed her oral talents my mind was thinking about the messy treat waiting for me in her lacy pink, bikini panties. It seemed as if I could never get enough of her taste and aroma or the sight of the juicy, pastel, pink slit hidden in the thick, dark patch of her curly pubic hair. Higher Education I knew that Simon was going to be trouble as soon as I met him, he sat there during my interview staring at our tits and making more pervy comments than he asked questions. I didn't mind though cos his house was right near the pub, so I wouldn't spend much time at home, and the rent was sooo cheap! I soon found out why. I moved in on the 8th of September, along with Sarah, another girl who appeared to have been chosen for her tits. That night we went out together and got completely trashed, and when we came home at 3am we found the unmistakable blue glow of a computer screen leaking around Simon's bedroom door. We guessed he was looking at porn, and pounded on his door. He answered after a few seconds pretending to be bleary eyed as if he had just woken up, but we could hear the fan going on his PC so we knew he had just switched it off. He was wearing a dressing gown which hung slightly open, revealing a glimpse of a huge, meaty cock. Sarah and I both saw it and our jaws dropped. We had been talking about what a loser our housemate was, but this changed things. "H-Hi girls..." he stammered "Is everything OK?" "We were wondering if you wanted to join us for a nightcap, Simon..." Sarah asked, still staring at his pendulous dick. At that moment there was a tearing sound, and the fake cock that was velcro'd to the front of his tight white underpants fell to the floor with a thud. Simon went bright red and slammed the door shut in our faces while we pissed ourselves out in the corridor. His door locked and the blue light from his computer monitor came back on again. Sarah and I went back to my room and drank tequila until we passed out. The next day a new girl, Emily, moved in to the house. She was skinny and blonde with hardly any boobs whatsoever, so we were surprised Simon had invited her to move in, even though she did have an awesome six pack. She was studying psychology and seemed uber-shy, so we were a little worried she might not fit in. Simon had come out of his room at about 3pm to welcome Emily and played down the dildo incident, saying someone bought it for him as a joke and he was trying to freak us out. Sarah pointed out that if we had been a little more shy we might have called the police, and Simon agreed it was a dumb trick to pull. "Thing is..." said Sarah "We didn't see much else. You got a real one in there as well?" she asked, eyeing up his crotch. "I think it's only fair, we saw the fake, we should get to see some real dick!" I said, and Simon blushed bright red. "O-OK" he said, standing up and undoing his belt. "FUCK DUDE!" screamed Sarah "Not really! Keep it in your fucking panties, OK? None of us want to see that shit." Simon nodded and sheepishly re-buckled his belt. A few minutes later he excused himself and headed up to his room, crouching over to hide his erection. As soon as his bedroom door closed we all burst out laughing. Emily asked what was going on and we told her about Simon and his fake dildo dick, and she laughed hardest of all. That night Emily drank a bottle of vodka and deep throated a cucumber in front of us both (We had to stop her from going and asking Simon for a borrow of his dildo), so we knew she was one of us. One night in October I was in my room getting changed ready to go out to the Union and as I was about to pull off my t-shirt I heard what sounded like heavy breathing coming from Simon's bedroom, which was next to mine. I stopped undressing and nonchalantly crossed the room towards the dividing wall where I heard Simon mutter "Come on you dirty little emo slut, take off the t-shirt, I gotta cum!". I'm a bit of an exhibitionist, so quite liked the idea of a guy jerking off over me even it is my freaky little housemate. At the time I didn't really think about how he could see me, I figured he was peeking through the keyhole or some shit. I decided to put on a real show and danced around my room in my underwear, gyrating to Lady GaGa and thrusting my boobs at the door, behind which I imagined Simon crouching and jerking his willy while he watched. Little did I realise, but I was thrusting in the wrong direction, as he wasn't behind the door. After a few months, I noticed that a pair of my knickers had gone missing from the radiator in the living room. I asked the other girls and Emily said she was missing a pair of knickers and a bra I wasn't aware she needed one, having tits like fried eggs). Sarah must've been special though as she was missing three pairs of knickers, two pairs of socks, a bra and even a t-shirt. We didn't have to think very hard about where they had gone, and shuddered to think about the uses Simon would have found for them. Another weird thing came up as well. All of us had noticed that our bathroom supplies (shampoo, shower gel, shaving foam etc) seemed to last nowhere near as long as usual, and if one of us went in the bathroom after Simon it smelled strongly of the same products. That afternoon, Me, Sarah and my friends Claire and Lindsey sneaked into Simon's room and switched on his computer. It loaded straight up and it didn't take long to find his porn folder (which was 15GB!!!). We scanned through and found hundreds of screencaps and videos of us changing, fucking, dancing and showering. There were also tons of him on Chatroulette, exposing his pathetically small willy, and even sucking himself off while hordes of girls pointed and laughed! We wouldn't have believed anyone could contort themselves enough to fit a moggot sized little willy like Simon's into their mouth, but we had the high definition video playing right there in front of us. I texted down to Emily what we had found, and got a single text message back. It read "OMFG. EWWW!" Sarah decided to snoop around the room and see what she could find. Under Simon's bed was a suitcase, and when it was opened we couldn't believe the contents. Right on top was an inflatable doll, which was funny enough, but the fact it was wearing Sarah's crusty cum covered T-shirt, bra, knickers and socks was absolutely hilarious! We had to stifle our hysterics to prevent Simon hearing us as he was only downstairs in the living room with Emily. Emily had distracted him by sitting in the living room wearing a bikini top and hotpants, so he was sitting in the corner trying to secretly wank while pretending to watch TV. Emily knew full well what the dirty little pervert was doing, but didn't bat an eyelid as she read a magazine. We all knew Simon's favourite place to wank off was in the bathroom, where he smeared himself in our shampoo and shower gel (don't ask me why). He also had a stash of our stolen knickers hidden in a carrier bag in the boiler cupboard he didn't know we knew about. We switched on the bathroom webcam and giggled as we watched him walk in and close the door behind him. Simon had gone all out to ensure the cams he used were tip top, HD video and perfect sound. We heard every rustle of clothing as he stripped down, then reached into his carrier bag and pulled out a pair of black cotton knickers with a pink skull on the front. "They're mine! I thought my loser ex-boyf had taken them!!!" Squealed Sarah, and Simon stopped what he was doing and cocked his head to listen as if he had heard her. We held our breath as he listened for a few seconds, then shrugged and continued with his perverted task. He rubbed his nose into the crotch of Sarah's knickers and started to wank off, but he somehow managed to avoid us getting a decent look at his dick, so we had to make do with his pale fat arse wobbling about as he furiously jacked off. I was clicking PrtSc and ctrl+V'ing it into Photoshop so fast it looked like stop motion as his fist pumped away. We all held our breath as Emily walked into the room, pretending to be surprised the door was not locked. Emily looked over at him, and her eyes widened "Simon... Are you... You're not... masturbating over me are you?" He whipped his hand to his crotch to cover his dick. "N-N-N-No!" he lied. She smiled, then moved closer. "I don't mind, you know... I always had a crush on you." She said, and looked down at the black knickers in his hand. "Are they Sarah's?" Simon nodded and Emily pulled a sad face: "Don't you ever use mine?" She asked, her bottom lip stuck out in a pout. "Of course!" Simon said, and opened the carrier bag, retrieving a pair of pink and white striped cotton briefs. "These are yours! I use them all the time, look they're covered in my jizz!" Emily looked like she was going to crack and start kicking his arse, but Simon kept on talking: "Really? You have a crush on me?" Simon asked, standing up. Emily regained her composure and nodded, beckoning him towards her. He slowly edged towards her, letting the knickers fall out of his hand but still cupping his hand over his dick. Emily took a step back. "Aren't you going to let me see your big, throbbing cock?" She asked him. Simon shrugged and whipped his hand away and we all had to cover our mouths to stop our hysterical laughter being heard in the bathroom. Simon's dick stood proud less than two inches from a forest of pubic hair. It was so hard it was throbbing, yet it still wouldn't have poked out of his fist when he was jerking it. Emily stifled a laugh by pretending it was a gasp of shock: "Wow! Simon, that is impressive! I love how hard it is! Don't let anyone tell you size matters." She told him. "Do you think it's a bit too big?" Simon asked, in all seriousness. "Babe, its perfect. I wouldn't change it one bit!" Emily lied. We all burst out laughing and Simon must've heard us. "Wh-what was that?" he asked nervously "Its just Sarah and Charlotte, they're getting ready to go out, you know what they're like!" Simon nodded. He knew more about what we were like than we could ever want him to, the dirty little pervert peeping tom! Then, Emily played an ace: "Simon, I really fancy you, and if it's ok with you I'd like to give you a b-j." She told him. "A b-j?" He asked, confused. "Blowjob, silly! It's where I put your winkie in my mouth and..." "I know what a blowjob is! Yes please!" "It's just I have a little fetish. Would you do one thing for me first?" "Of course!" He replied eagerly. "OK... I like it when guys suck their own dicks in front of me." She told him "Would you do that for me? Then it's sucky-sucky time!" We all cracked up in the bedroom, we couldn't believe she just asked him that. He was bound to refuse. "S-sure! I can do that!" With that he started limbering up, then got down on the floor and wrapped his arms around the backs of his knees, pulling his groin up and putting his little dicklet in to his mouth. He must be a fucking gymnast to get that tiny pathetic thing in there! He started sucking vigorously while Emily sneaked a look up at the hidden webcam, subtly gesturing for us to go down and join her. We weren't going to miss this, so we left Simon's PC recording the action and all sneaked downstairs, taking the inflatable doll and some sex toys with us. We waited outside the door and heard Emily talking: "Simon, I love it when guys stick things in their arseholes too. Have you got anything? How about your electric toothbrush?" She asked him, and we heard a buzz as the brush was switched on. Just then Emily yelled "NOW GIRLS!" and we all piled in to find Simon on the bathroom floor, an electric toothbrush up his arse and his dick in his mouth. He pulled out of his gob in shock just as he came, so ribbons of jizz spurted out of his dick and into his face!