Phil Young's academic life was starting to hit a high note. His first year of grad school had been general physics, with only one course in Quantum Mechanics. He'd taken Group Theory, too, which -- however necessary for QM -- wasn't even physics. Now, he was taking courses in what he wanted to understand.

His social life, on the other hand, wasn't going so great. Amy, who had so brightened the previous year, had graduated. She was somewhere in Nebraska teaching school. He was teaching a discussion session of Physics 101. Marguerite, pretty and easily the brightest girl in the section, was underage. He'd looked her up -- as quasi-faculty, he could do so -- and she wouldn't 18 until early December. Besides, his faculty adviser had warned him against "fraternizing" with anybody in his section.

The classes he was taking were hopeless as hunting grounds. There were more men than there were women in his classes. There were probably more Pakistani men than there were tits in his classes. And every one of those few women was taken, two by each other.

He'd go dancing. At least the clubs in Rollo would keep the underage girls out. He'd see a lot of shaking tits there, though he probably wouldn't get to touch any. Anyway, it was Friday night, and he was tired of thinking.

The Bouncer at {i} The Blood Orchid {/i} seemed to be doing his job. At least he turned a guy and a girl away while Phil was waiting in line. Phil showed his picture student ID and got in immediately. The dance floor was crowded, and he found a partner for the first dance that started after he got there. She was well-built, but she had no moves. If they'd been standing still, he would have kept looking at her. As it was, he moved on.

The prettiest girl on the floor looked to be just that, a girl. Shit! his younger sister had been that tall before she entered high school. On the other hand, she was there, and those tits sure looked like a woman's. And they moved like they were real.

Her partner moved off, and Phil moved in. She accepted him, and they danced two dances. He offered her a drink, and she said she wanted a Manhattan. When she got it, though, she sipped it.

He gave her his names, both names as a hint. She didn't take the hint, or -- more likely -- rejected it. She identified herself as Tanya. Well, if he wasn't going to get a last name, he wasn't going to get a phone number, either. Still she wasn't looking around for another partner, and she talked intelligently. If she pulled the draw-the-male-out stunt, he enjoyed talking about himself. He'd be glad to talk about anything, though, if he could do it while looking at her.

Back on the dance floor, looking at her was even better. When she moved, her tits moved, though not quite in the same direction. Then, too, he could see them while looking into her face when they were standing up. He'd been hassled about looking at girls' tits rather than their faces since high school, and he didn't want to offend this one.

"How tall are you, anyway?" she asked him. The record was over, and they could hear each other. She might have been reading his mind about looking down.

"Six-three, and you?"

"A little less." She sounded ashamed. Didn't Tanya know she was a prefect doll? "Almost five feet." That made her sound so young! He could remember spending ten months as 'almost 16' once.

Still, it was the club's business to screen the underage. What he would really like, was to take her somewhere and get in some serious time with her. If she wouldn't give him her last name, she wasn't likely to give him that. A shame, though. Her lips looked so pretty that he wanted to see how they tasted. Well, still he could sit with her some more.

"Want another drink?" he asked.

"Not really," she said. "I like to keep a clear head." A clear head for what? He'd danced stoned out of his skull. Liquor was different, but she'd had one Manhattan.

"Well," he said. "We could get Cokes." Why did she need a clear head? had she driven? He could stop worrying about her age, though. Nobody who had gone to the trouble of getting a fake ID had done so to drink one cocktail. "Or we could keep dancing." Could it be a clear head for what he hoped? Did she want a clear head to fuck? Of course, she might want a clear head to be sure she could avoid fucking. Still, that sounded like she was prepared to do some serious making out. Well, give it a try. "Or..." She could ignore it if she just wanted to keep dancing.

"Or?" She sounded curious, not flirtatious, but not suspicious, either.

"How would you like to go for a walk?" Now it was out there. She could take it. Of course, she could walk away from him, too, but that was already a risk. Better that she left him because she didn't want as much interaction as she would get with him than because she wanted more than she thought she could get with him.

"With you? I'd like that." She'd said yes! Since it was Indian summer, they didn't have any coats. They just walked out. He took her hand and led her in the general direction of his apartment. As there were plenty of leaves on the trees, the lawn side was in deep shadow. He passed two opportunities just talking, but when they came to a tree shaded from its house as well as the sidewalk, she followed him into the shadow willingly.

Her lips tasted as good as he'd hoped. Her tongue tasted even better. Her tits were quite real, soft against his chest. He held her head off the trunk of the tree and drank her mouth. He loved her taste, her feel. He wanted more. Well, this wasn't the place. For one thing, his knees were getting tired of the bending. He led her to the apartment.

In the entryway, with her up three steps and him still on the sidewalk, the kiss was even better. Her tits were soft but firm, alive under his hands. Her mouth tasted even sweeter. Her ass was round and firm. When she tensed it, it was firmer still. He wanted to stroke all of her without these clothes, but they were still on the street.

"Tanya?" he asked.

"Yes." she answered. He prayed that she stuck to that answer.

"Would you like to come up?" She was silent a long time, a time he spent wanting to kiss her some more, feel some more of her. This wasn't, however, the time. For one thing, she couldn't answer when he was kissing her. Not that she seemed eager to answer when he wasn't.

"Yes," she said finally. He opened the door and followed that marvelous ass up the stairs. He stopped her on his landing and opened the door. As his roommates weren't back yet, he and Tanya had the living room for themselves. They were kissing again, and he was stroking her. He turned her around and bent to kiss her neck. He stroked her marvelous tits and then further down. The jeans might reveal her shape to his eyes, but they concealed the feel from his hands.

He broke the kiss to lead her towards his room. She resisted. Was this going to be as far as it went?

"Wait," she said. "My contacts. I have to take them out first."

"First?" he asked. Did that mean they were going to actually do it? She talked like it, but she was such a marvelous girl. But her delay did give him an instant to make the bed and toss the laundry pile into the closet. After another hot kiss, she followed him into the bedroom like somebody who was being shown the way she wanted to go.

When she was naked, he lifted her up to kiss her tits without bending over. He tried to go lower, but he would need an entirely different grip to go low enough. Instead, he laid her in the middle of the bed. He kissed her while he got his shorts off.

"Do I need something?" he asked. If this was going to be heavy making out, he was game, but he was hoping for more.

"Please," she said,

"Sure." Then he had to get the rubber out of the night stand when she was lying on that side. Well, he got her naked tits on his naked chest while he fumbled. He left the packet beside him while he went back to getting her ready. She welcomed his hand when it stroked up her leg towards her cunt. She was nice and juicy.

When he moved her hand to his cock, it responded to her touch. He managed to resist coming while she applied the rubber. Then there was a moment of his clumsiness getting into position. Without being asked, she put him into her entrance. He pushed forwards, and her wet warmth spread all around him.

"So tight," he said. Is this what a virgin felt like?

And then he was thrusting into her, and she was pushing right back. They were fucking together, and she was so smooth, so warm, so tight. Above all, she was so responsive. He didn't want it ever to end, and he could feel the ending rushing at him. He gritted his teeth to hold it back, to have one more stroke into her smoothness, and then another.

Then her tightness gripped him more tightly. He felt her coming and his coming answering it.

"God!" he said. He gathered his strength and rammed into her with all of it. He poured out into her depths. When she pushed him off and he came out, though, the rubber came with him and everything had been contained.

He tossed the rubber towards the waste basket. He turned off the lamp and gathered her in. Now, too, she cooperated. She burrowed into his arms.

"I never, never..." he told her. "You're such a pretty girl, and I never thought I had a chance until..." Well, when was it? He thought he had a chance on the dance floor, but he hadn't been sure until she had told him that he'd need the rubber. That was too much too say, and he was too tired to say anything.

...

When she moved in his arms, it was light outside. He kissed her neck and cuddled her tit. She stirred, but not in acceptance.

"What time is it?" she asked. He turned the clock so she could see.

"Not much after 7:00," he said. She hadn't said anything about curfew, and if there was one, she'd missed it long ago. Another hour wouldn't matter. They'd been so good together that he wanted another. Then, too, he knew he could draw it out much longer this morning. She, however, obviously wasn't on the same wavelength. She wasn't even in the same spectrum.

"I have to get to Calc 101 class," she said. She climbed out of bed and into her clothes. A pretty sight, but an ugly omen.

"Cut your class," he said. For that matter, he could tutor her in whatever she would miss. Wait a second. Calc 101? She was a freshman. Was she under age?

"No," she said. "Look I have to go to the john. Could you call a cab for me? Minutes count. Tell them the address. I'll be down in less than ten minutes, closer to five." A cab? He'd known kids who ran to class, but a cab was extreme. Some of his friends couldn't even afford a cab to get to the train or plane when going home for Christmas! And was she underage if she was a freshman?

"First year calc? You aren't underage, are you?"

"I'm older than you are." That was ridiculous. But she was digging into her handbag like a woman who used handbags every day, not like a student who kept her stuff in a back pack usually.

"What is this address?" Now, she did sound like an older woman, and a bossy older woman, too. She sounded like the female Napoleon who'd taught Group Theory. He looked at the glasses she'd laid down while searching her purse. They looked like the female Napoleon's glasses, too. A lot of things clicked together.

"Doctor Thorsen?" he asked.