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A University Education

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When I arrived at university I was not just a virgin, I had never even so much as orgasmed as a result of the sexual manipulation of a girl. I had had nothing. Zip all. De nada. Zilch. Sure I had daydreamed about girls that I knew (so much) and pored over porn mags (again, so much).

My fantasies had become quite developed and I had garnered an interest in vampy women with long dark hair in red lipstick wearing classic little black dresses, heels, stockings and exciting black lingerie. I particularly liked the thought of a woman stood up and bending over at the waist to reveal her pussy whilst looking back and smiling seductively.

I had time on my hands and a very vivid and detailed imagination. However as for actually claiming the prize, I hadn’t even experienced so much as a handjob off the girl next door.

I’d furtively made out with a couple of girls. In my last month of sixth form, after an hour or so of increasingly desperate kissing, one lass called Louise had briefly stroked my cock through my jeans whilst I unsubtly mauled at her tiny tits over the top of her summer dress. Just as I thought it might lead to more the front door of her house had slammed to and her father’s voice called up from the hallway. Cock-blocked.

I’m certain most eighteen year olds have suffered this frustration but in the moment I took this very personally indeed! We kissed a couple more times on dates but the relationship was going nowhere and we split without even so much as our hands making contact with naked pussy or cock.

Put simply I was the shy kid from a small town who had attended an all-boys school. Until the summer before university I’d never really had the confidence or opportunity to hang out with girls. I was about six foot in height and had a lean, if not muscular body, with sea-grey eyes and short sandy coloured hair. I wasn’t particularly bad looking, but I just didn’t know that girls would find me attractive then because I barely ever met any. In short, I was a total wanker.

I remember walking the streets of my new city a few days before university started and considering my sexual frustration. Everywhere I looked I saw hot girls, beautiful women, sexy minxes. It was a college town with two universities and a city centre that drew in folk from miles around to party and perhaps get laid. The possibilities were tantalisingly endless, yet confusing, and as a fairly naïve eighteen year old with virtually no sexual experience there was a slight terror and inability to know how I could enact the raging desires and lust within me.

On that first morning I went for a long walk amongst the myriad streets, lanes and alleys. I got comprehensively lost in my new city and was starting to enjoy the sensation of exploring at random in the maze of brick buildings and concrete shopping centres. Amongst all of the tight-bodied teens and confidant-looking twenty somethings strutting down the street in the last of the summer warmth, I spotted an older woman. Perhaps she was only in her mid-thirties, but I’d never lusted over an older woman before. Her short muddy-blonde hair caught my attention, as did her smart business suit, but it was the generous expanse of thigh on display wrapped up in black tights (or dare I hope – stockings?) that gripped my attention. Her black stiletto heels caused a perfect elongation of the calves and enabled that confrontational, yet so tempting, feminine wiggle to her rounded arse clad in her tight, tweed miniskirt.

I was instantly hard. I stopped walking. My head snapped round to follow her walk down the street opposite me. My body coursed with the adrenaline of lust. I made an instant promise to myself that I would jump at the very first opportunity to end up in the sack with a woman. Any woman. Especially if she looked like the woman that I was currently openly leering at.

All I could do that day was return home, fantasise about the blonde that I had espied in minute detail and once again pull on my cock until I produced a dollop of jism onto my tummy back at my digs.


My frustration was somewhat relieved by the appearance of Laura in my life. I met her on my first evening in the student union bar. It was a dimly lit place. Badly in need of redecoration with scuffed walls and peeling paint. The jookbox was about five years out of date and the booze hopelessly watered down. However it was here that everyone went. And it was cheap. We were fresh out of sixth form, in need of new friends and hopeful of the potential to cop off with somebody. Anybody.

In truth I barely spoke to Laura that night. We talked briefly as part of a very large group of freshers. The usual questions. Where we were from, what A Levels we had taken, what course we were taking, where we were living. The endlessly banal round of Week One conversation.

Internally, however, the question was always one of sexual hope. The trouble was that I had set my sights on another girl. casino şirketleri Hannah was cuter than Laura. Hannah was smarter than Laura. Hannah had a tighter body than Laura. Hannah was more confident than Laura. Hannah was two years older than Laura. Hannah had had boyfriends and, in a moment of revelation that caused a burst of electricity through my entire self, Hannah confided that she had slept with as many as eleven guys. This was surely my opportunity? Was it fuck. Hannah was charming, gregarious, friendly, flirty, experienced and was like that with everyone she met that night. She was out of my league.

Laura was quiet. Laura didn’t drink. Laura was dressed casually. Laura didn’t flirt. However on our second night at the university, during another night in the bar answering and asking the same questions, Laura smiled at me. I’d already given up on Hannah. Hannah was too cool. Hannah would never look at me that way. I needed to be realistic. I was a virgin with zero sexual experience. I needed someone more like me. In fact after that second night I don’t think I ever saw Hannah again. But Laura had smiled at me.

A large group of us were on the dancefloor. It was the mid-nineties. Britpop was at its height. Cool Britannia was in. The place was heaving with student bodies gyrating, writhing, flailing and bouncing. There were guys with Gallagher haircuts and parka jackets everywhere. Bullseye tee-shirts abounded.

There were so many different styles as well. The platform heels and micro-dresses inspired by the Spice Girls were popular. Those girls were always surrounded by groups of lads hoping to get lucky. And lots did. Then there were the alternative girls, in their ripped up fishnets and brightly coloured dyed hair, who relished the DJ playing Suede and L7. They were also popular with the guys as goth girls automatically had a reputation for deviancy in the bedroom.

Laura wasn’t any of those girls. She was a pretty girl-next-door. I saw her long, straight mousey-brown hair. A curvy size 12-14 figure. Deck shoes, boot-cut blue jeans and a strappy vest top. The latter did show off a nice cleavage and I did like the look of her. Her smile ensured that.

There were lights flashing everywhere as the music pounded. A state of euphoria had been achieved throughout the bar either through the endorphin rush of dancing, a huge amount of booze or both. Inhibitions were being lost and couples everywhere were making out. It was so warm. Sweaty young bodies pushed up against each other. I could see one girl, whose name I recalled was Elizabeth, wearing a pale gold micro-dress grinding her arse right up against the groin of a guy she had just met, his hands openly feeling up her tits as she gyrated against him.

Laura smiled at me. She was just two feet away from me on the dancefloor. And then she was in my arms. It happened so unbelievably fast, but there she was. Her left thigh was planted between mine and her jeans were pressed right up against my crotch. I was instantly hard as I could also feel her soft, yielding round boobs pushed right up against my chest and her light brown hair was buried in the crook of my neck as her face turned towards mine.

She was only half-smiling now, her lips slightly parted and the pupils of her eyes dilated in the flashing dancefloor lights. I hesitated only for a second. My lips pressed onto hers, our mouths opened and tongues met in a rushing and swirling dance of arousal. Our hands eagerly grasped at each other’s torsos and we stood amidst the confusion of the dancefloor lost in a long moment of first year lust.


Laura and I made out that night. In fact Laura and I made out a lot over the next six weeks. We ground against each other in clubs. A passionate clinch on my bed. A consuming frenzy on the floor of her bedroom. What there wasn’t was an orgasm. Our hands roamed all over our clothed bodies. Soft, round and pleasingly big tits were squeezed through strappy vest tops. My fingers worked against the crotch of her blue jeans and felt the heat and a hint of the wetness within. Her small fingers outlined the shape of my hard cock straining eagerly against the fabric of my pants and trousers.

It took those six weeks for Laura to allow my left hand to stray up inside her denim shirt, creep up and under her bra underwire and cause her body to jolt and stiffen with arousal as I allowed my thumb and forefinger to gently caress the erect nipple of her right breast. We were in the lounge of her digs. Both of us full length on her sofa. The lights were off and her housemates were either in bed or out. Perhaps it was the sound of her friend Amy, in the adjacent downstairs bedroom, moaning mutedly as her boyfriend pleasured her that had turned Laura on and driven her arousal to a new level. The more I rubbed and squeezed her malleable young teen tits the more her breathing quickened and deepened. Her groin pressed harder against my thigh and she kissed me casino firmaları so much more urgently.

Her hand lingered at the apex of my left knee, her own legs clamped around my right, but slowly and almost imperceptibly at first her right hand began to slide down my thigh as we passionately made out. My left hand continued to maul her breasts and this seemed to spur Laura on as her hand reached the crease of my hips and she rolled back slightly so that she could slide her fingers surprisingly confidently and firmly over my cock.

Laura pulled back from my lips, breathed deeply, closed her eyes and then in one movement swung herself up and over so that she was straddling me. She quickly pulled up her top and in the dim light I caught my first sight of her naked tits. She picked up both of my hands and placed them firmly on her boobs and then her head dipped down to insistently kiss me again. As I responded and our tongues swirled deeply together I kneaded her C-cup tits and felt my erection pressed against the gusset of her jeans as she spasmodically ground her pussy against my cock.

My head was swimming with lust and I was very conscious of just how aroused I was becoming. There was a desperation to just shoot my cum into my pants and hope that that was her plan and she wouldn’t mind. Equally there was a hope that something more might occur. I took the plunge.

“Laura,” I gasped, I’m getting too horny here!”

She looked down at me, her thighs still clamped around my hips, her pussy still pressed firmly against my straining cock through our jeans. She smiled. Just like the smile in the club.

“Its OK, we don’t have to stop.”

“What do you mean?” I asked the question both in hope and in genuine need of clarification. I realised that she might be about to let me cum with her, but I needed to know what direction she was going in.

She didn’t reply, but shifted her weight backwards and allowed her hands to sink down to my belt buckle. I swiftly breathed in with aroused relief as she undid the belt, snapped open my button and began to lower my flies. In a second she was half-lying on my side as she fiercely kissed me again whilst at the same time sliding her hand into my jeans and coming to rest against the swollen cock straining against the thin cotton of my tight briefs. She squeezed my erection and felt for the head before running her fingers right down inside my jeans to cup my balls and roll them around. Finally she grasped my shaft just below the helmet and began to gently pull upwards causing me to flinch in desperate arousal.

Trying to regain something of my composure before I blew my load into my pants as this eighteen year old brunette rubbed my cock with her soft and pink tits pressed up against me I blurted out a question.

“Have you done this before?”

Such a rookie thing to say. I was simply trying to give myself a moment of respite to avoid shooting my cum instantly at the sensation of the first hand, that wasn’t my own, in such close proximity to my cock. At first I thought that I had blown my chances as she looked at me with a mixture of what I read as annoyance and confusion. Then she smiled that same smile from the dancefloor again.

“Yeah. I have actually!” That smile again. “My last boyfriend, John.”

“Oh,” I said, in such a lame way. However that dilated and far-away look came over her eyes again and I realised that she was really turned on. I hesitated and then asked her how far they had gone.

“After we had dated for about three months I used to do this…” And with that she slid her hand under the waistband of my pants and I felt her fingertips come into contact with the pulsing head of my cock, which immediately twitched violently.

Lost in the depths of my horniness for Laura at that moment, but still anxious as to what was on offer I heard myself blurt out, “And what happened with John next?”

“Nothing,” she said. My heart sank. I suddenly saw a picture of myself pulling my strides up, kissing Laura goodnight, trudging home and then sinking into my bed to wank myself off again whilst replaying everything that we had done and not done.

“But its different tonight,” she whispered, “I’m so turned on.”

And with that she used her free hand to lower the front of my pants and completely reveal my stiff cock. As we kissed deeply she worked her right hand up and down my straining shaft as that outrageously exquisite burning feeling of lust beyond the reach of control mounted from the depths of my balls, surged up through my shaft and erupted from my engorged head to spray a long way up my torso, splashing the side of her right breast and liberally coating her hand still working my cock as the cum began to subside.

As I lay there, with her draped across me, ropes of cum pooling on our bodies, she quietly and simply asked me, “Was that your first time? Cumming with a girl, I mean?”


“My first time güvenilir casino making a guy cum too. Happy?”



And for a while I was happy. Two or three times a week we would meet up, hang out with friends, go on a date or just chill. At the end of the night we would have a make-out session that would end with me lying back as Laura pumped my cock into her hand. It wasn’t entirely one sided. I would return the favour by grinding my cock against Laura’s pussy, but always as a fully clothed dry-hump. I either had to make sure that Laura had already wanked me off or that I kept myself under control so as not to shoot my load in my pants.

There I was with a cute girlfriend who made me cum several times a week, Christmas came and went, but after several months I wanted more. One night I offered to finger her properly or even to go down on her. She wrinkled her nose and refused. Another night, after a few beers for courage, I desperately asked her to suck my cock. She declined. Towards the end I discreetly slid my hand into the back of her jeans to feel her naked arse whilst she was wanking me off. She froze but, after a second, carried on tugging me until I came. After she asked me not to do that again. Essentially the relationship was in a stasis of sexual stagnation. Eventually we broke up.


About ten days after Laura and I broke up, Nicole came to stay. Nicole was my housemate Neil’s sister. I had met Nicole once before, just after I had started seeing Laura. In truth I hadn’t paid her much attention, as Laura and I were about to go make out in my room. What I noticed now was that Nicole was everything Laura was not. Nicole was effectively similar to Hannah. Charismatic, fun-loving, cheeky, outrageous and above all utterly hot. I had slightly more confidence with girls after my experiences with Laura, despite their limitations, and I felt that I could communicate more easily with Nicole than I managed with Hannah.

This was put to the test on the second night of Nicole’s stay. About five of us went to the pub. We lived off campus in a shared house so the night revolved around a short crawl around some of the local pubs. I was the only single guy in the group and gravitated towards Nicole as she laughed and flirted from beneath her bob-cut red curls.

We were in an old, dimly lit boozer with dark wood panelling and candles on the tables. When I was buying drinks I saw Nicole’s reflection behind me in the big mirror behind the bar. I noticed that she was staring straight at my ass. In return I gazed admiringly at her size ten figure and high, perky boobs encased in a skin-tight, blue, high-necked sweater. She saw me gazing back and giggled. I felt a throbbing in my pants and realised that again I was instantly hard. I also realised that I might have a chance with Neil’s sister.

As we all headed home that night Nicole was walking beside her brother in front of me and I allowed my eyes to roam over her knee-high, blue suede FMBs, along the length of her gorgeous legs and up over her pert little arse beneath a tight blue miniskirt. My breathing was shallow and my heart beating faster as I realised again that this nineteen year old hottie had been openly checking me out in the pub.

Back at the house everyone else went to bed. It couldn’t have been more perfect as it left Nicole and I sat on the sofa in the lounge together. We talked. Of course we talked. We were both nineteen. Talking is what teenagers do. However the talk was strained. It was clear that we were both hoping the other would make a move. Nicole asked me about Laura. I told her we had broken up.

“I though you guys were pretty serious?”

“Well, sort of,” I said (lamely), “we were dating and that, but…” I trailed off.

“What?” Nicole prompted.

“Well, y’know, we never…” I started and then trailed off again.

“What? You never… fucked?” She emphasised that last word quite precisely. Embarrassed I just shook my head. “Me neither,” she stated. My head shot up. She was so unbelievably hot. I just couldn’t quite believe that she was a virgin. She giggled.

“I’ve sucked a LOT of a cock though.” My mouth just hung open. “Want me to show you?”

As corny lines go that was one of the worst that I have ever heard. It was necessary though. It completely shattered the ice and we flew at each other across the sofa. From the moment that our lips locked I could tell that Nicole was going to be a completely different experience to Laura.

My ex-girlfriend preferred me to kiss her top lip, my lover tonight insisted on me concentrating on her bottom lip. Whereas Laura’s kissing technique was warm, long and deep with a languorous and swirling of her tongue, Nicole preferred to keep her tongue rigidly firm and rapidly lash it back and forth in a torrid battle with my own.

Nicole was altogether a much faster worker than Laura too. Within moments of our embrace she was sighing and pushing my hand up under her blue sweater to ensure I was kneading her cute little B-cups. At the same time, her hand was already wrapped around my cock through my trousers and was pulling on it for all she as worth.

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