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I sat at the very back of the sparsely peopled lecture theatre, high up, my long legs forced apart by the narrow gap between one row of seats and the next. The lecturer started, his low mellifluous tones warmly bathing the room. I closed my eyes and leaned back enjoying that slow, sexy voice and ignoring the content it was delivering. I was drifting into a daze when there was a thump on the desk next to mine.
A young man – a very young man – sat down on the seat next to mine. The noise had been his bag landing on the desk. He was handsome, in a boyish kind of way. His skin was unbelievably smooth – it looked like he had never needed to shave – and long, dark eyelashes protected his puppyish eyes. His nose and mouth were delicate, with the last a delicate rose shade. He looked at me apologetically and gave a brisk, nervous smile that revealed teeth that looked brand new. His body was willowy, and if it hadn’t been for the small bulge on the front of his jeans, he might have been mistaken for a flat-chested girl.
He began following the lecture, amending the printed handouts the lecturer had left sitting at the front of the room with quick dashes of ink in a clear, child-like hand. Every so often he would glance over at me though, his eyes straying to my rather large breasts, which I had that afternoon squeezed into a very tight, extremely low cut top. Sometimes he glanced down at my feet then followed my shapely legs up until they disappeared into my scandalously short skirt. I let him look, pretending to listen to the lecturer or scribbling nonsense on my own notes when I felt his eyes surveying me.
Following one of his inspections I looked at him and saw that the small bulge had swelled a little. I decided to have a little fun with him and the next time he looked at me I leaned forward, letting my breasts fall onto the desk, nearly spilling them out of my top and wrote in block capitals on my notes “I’m not wearing any panties”. He didn’t notice, so I caught his eye – his flawless cheeks, which were already slightly flushed, blazed red when he realised I had caught him – and slid the notes over the desk to him. He looked at it, did a double take and goggled at me.
I nodded at him and he gulped. I laughed to myself, thinking that this kid was a virgin. “How old are you?” I asked him.
In a melodic voice, he whispered back, “Nineteen.” His mouth stayed open, as if he had something more to say, but nothing came out.
“Nineteen, huh? What’s your name?” He nodded to the first and replied “David” to the second.
He looked again at the notes in front of him, his eyes slowly following the thick dark traces of the statement I had written. “Are you really not wearing any panties?” he asked.
I smiled – another one hooked. I parted my legs slightly, pointed at the gap in my skirt and said, “Why don’t you check.”
He licked his lips and tentatively moved one hand towards me. It hesitated and I took hold of it, pulling it to the hem of my skirt then releasing it, telling him to go on. With a gasp he plunged his hand under my skirt and brushed it roughly over the soft, bald flesh of my cunt. His clammy fingers dove quickly into my smooth pussy, probing it clumsily, without skill. Thankfully, for me anyway, the exhibitionism of this sexual encounter in a lecture theatre had me wet enough that he didn’t hurt me, though his fumbling brought me no pleasure.
He removed his hand and, not sure what to do, said “Wow.” The little bump in his jeans had grown still further.
I glanced around – we were at the top of the room and no one could see us. I reached out and unzipped his fly, then pushed my hand inside his trousers and boxer shorts and took hold of his cock. I freed it from his trousers so that it jutted out of his clothes pointing towards the ceiling of the lecture theatre, only concealed by the desk.
I looked at David’s cock – about three-and-a-half inches long, very thin. “Is that it?” I asked.
“Is that as big as it gets?”
“Uh…yeah. Is that…um…okay?”
Fucking David would be like pleasuring yourself with a tic-tac and from the way he had touched my cunt he wouldn’t make up for his shortcomings with any skill. But then, I had other intentions than taking a first year’s cherry today. “Sure,” I replied. What can I say, I’m a horny little minx.
I took his cock in one hand – it was almost swallowed by my palm – and began stroking him gently. He moaned a little. I told him to shut up and kept jerking him off. He came in about a minute, shooting a thin stream of sticky fluid onto the underside of the desk. His face flushed and his breath had become fast and deep. Pure sweat glazed his unlined brow. “Thank you”, he said to me.
My index finger was lined with a short blob of his come, which I licked off. “No problem,” I said. I sat back, resting on the seat.
“Do you want to… go somewhere after the lecture?” he asked.
“No.” I smiled thinly at him, “I like a little more meat on my bones, if you get me.” In case he bahis firmaları didn’t I pointed at the flaccid roll of flesh barely projecting from his trousers. His turned shocked, then embarrassed, finally angry. At last he tucked his tiny cock away.
“Fuck you, you cunt,” he said, his voice quiet and angry, his cheeks hot.
I grinned – my predator’s grin. “I already told you, you’re cock’s too small for me to let you.”
David quickly left the lecture theatre and the lecturer stared at him in a pantomime of surprise before continuing. I sat back, the moist heat in my cunt undiminished, as the lecture trudged towards a finale as unimpressive as David’s had been.
As the other students quickly packed away their notes and pens and shrieked laughter at poor flights of wit by their contemporaries on their way to wherever they were going, I dawdled, taking as long as I could to put my paper into my leather satchel. Still, when I went towards the lecturer at the front of the room I had to wait as a mousy boy with a pocked face asked interminable questions on today’s lesson. Finally he left, and I moved in on the lecturer.
“Hi,” he said. “Ah…I’m usually good with students’ names but yours…um…”
I looked around – just the two of us. I pushed him against the desk, my hand rushing to the fly of his jeans and yanking it down in a metallic tear. My hand was stroking his cock before he had even realised what I was doing.
The hand that wasn’t cupping his dick I quickly placed against his mouth, open in surprise.
“Not a word, doc.” He obeyed, and as a reward I gave his cock one long, slow stroke. It wasn’t hard yet – the lecturer had the patience of a man – but its smooth, massy warmth felt as good as always in my hand. The lecturer, whose name was Bob Richards, gave a low moan.
“Look, Dr. Richards, I need some… tuition. Do you think we could… study together at your house tonight.”
Whether it was my hand on his cock, or the strangeness of the situation, all that came out of his mouth was “Huh… huh…huh.”
His cock was fully hard now, six inches long and fairly thick. A pretty good size, but I guess today wasn’t my day for enormous cocks. I stroked more roughly, being careful not to let Bobby come – if he came, he might not take me home.
“So Dr. Richards,” I asked in my most innocent child-like tone, “would you help me?” As I spoke, I moved back against the first row of desks and lifted my tiny skirt up over my glistening pussy. As it came into his view, first the dark lips of my labia, then my pale pink inner flesh, the revelation of my smooth tan skin, completely hairless and without blemish, he gasped and wiped sweat of his brow. His hand – unconsciously – went to his cock and began to stroke it. I went back forward, tugging my skirt down and slapping his hand away. There’s no better tease than I.
I ran one finger up the underside of his cock, hinting at what – later, perhaps – my tongue would do to it. “What’s your answer, Doctor?”
He had to struggle to speak, and when he did, the easy, low tones of his lecture had been replaced by a fast, hoarse growl. “Yes.”
As if he could answer anything else. “Good!” Now that I had him I dropped his cock, which bobbed rigidly towards me, and backed away from him. “Tuck yourself in and take me to your car.”
We pushed through the swing doors of the lecture theatre – him leading – and headed for the parking lot in front of the English building. As we walked, we both attracted attention. Guys, and a fair number of girls, were hypnotised by my big tits, bouncing in my tight top in counterpoint to our quick march. Some people also noticed the cylinder bulge at the front of Bob’s jeans. Somehow we reached his car without incident.
Bob drove a Saab approaching – in modern terms – middle age. It was no longer cool – its lines weren’t trim and sleek, its shape no longer fitted modern style – but it still had a good amount of power and the insecurity of youth had been supplanted by a quiet confidence that resounded in the controlled growl of the engine. In short it was a car.
We got in and drove off, neither of us speaking until Bob let me know we were about twenty minutes from his house. I moved my hand over and rested it on his crotch, the slowly fading cock immediately regaining vivid brilliance. It pressed on my hand like diamond.
I gently stimulated him this way until he nearly hit a cyclist. After that I decided to wait until we reached his home.
Once we were inside, having put on a transparent display of propriety in case his neighbours were watching, I took charge again. I asked him to get me a glass of water then stood looking around the living room. Faded furniture and old taste – the poor pay of a lecturer and the evidence of a man who entertains out more than in. When I finished my slow spin he was watching me.
I can imagine the sight I made. Stylishly restrained shoes with a low heel just high enough to accentuate the curve of my calves. My bronzed legs curving kaçak iddaa into my short skirt and the smooth swell of my firm ass. My big breasts under a tight white top that concealed only the colour of my flesh there, and not one contour of my body.
I took the water and drank, then told him: “Take off your clothes.” He obeyed instantly, already subdued by the mere promise of young flesh. His shirt first – he was not well built, but not slender, either. His flesh was milky and taut. He dropped his jeans, awkwardly negotiating them around his cock, which protruded incongruously from his snow-white boxers. Then, to avoid the ignominy of having to remove his socks last, he sat on the couch and stripped them off, hurling them into a corner of the room. Before they could land, his boxers were around his ankles and Bob stood naked before me.
He was not Adonis, but a man grown and experienced. He wore his body with the comfortable grace of someone who had used it for over thirty-five years and, while it lacked the finely chiselled perfection of sculpture, it was well honed. It was a body for work rather than art.
I grabbed his cock – but gently – and tugged him towards me. “Where’s your bedroom?”
He told me, and I led him there by his cock. He followed more docilely than any animal on a leash.
Once there, on the second floor of his house, I forced him onto the bed and did my own slow strip. There was no music, but I still sensuously moved my body, miming the sexual act. I ran my hands slowly through my hair, then down my neck and over my breasts. My nipples prickled against the fabric and I bit my moist, red lower lip with one white tooth.
I moved my hands still further down, one pressing against my pussy, the other circling round to cup my ass. The show had once again set Bob to touching himself, and once again I stopped him with a sharp word. “Do you want to see the rest?” He quickly answered in the affirmative. “Do you want the best fuck of your life?” Again he moaned his yes. “Then, Dr. Richards, you have to agree to do whatever I tell you. Do you agree?”
He nodded, not trusting his voice. “Okay,” I said.
I resumed my strip, kicking the shoes off and laying the rucksack on the floor at my feet. I wasn’t wearing socks, so all that now covered my young body were a flimsy skirt and top. I stretched for him and pulled the top over my head and through my thick rough-blond hair. When I dropped my arms, casting aside my top, my big breasts bounced, up then down and back to their firm position on my chest. When I get older, they may start to sag and my body may no longer support their heavy flesh. But at the moment, they stand proud and I love to show them off. They thrust with ruler perfection off my chest at, as a mathematically minded fuck-buddy of mine once said, a 45-degree angle to the plane of my body. My small brown nipples are surrounded by lushly curved flesh, the undersides of each of my breasts forming almost a perfect half-sphere. They are full and sensitive, extravagant and wild. As a less scientific lover once told me, I’ve got “fucking great tits”.
Bob was preparing to come and feel them, but again I stopped him. “Lie back and don’t touch yourself.” I faced the window in the room, opening the curtains and framing my breasts there for any of Bob’s inquisitive neighbours. I shimmied out of the skirt, letting Bob watch my ass jiggle. I’m evenly tanned all over – there’s no part of me I don’t like to expose to the world. I cupped my breasts the way I like – last three fingers of each hand kneading the flesh of my tits, the first finger and the thumb sharply pinching my nipples. I turned around for him without ceremony – after all, he’d already seen my cunt.
I knelt in front of the bed; my eyes locked on his, with his cock like a crosshair between them. I crawled onto the bed, my huge breasts brushing the sheets; my ass rolling like a lioness’s as she stalks her prey. I took the base of his cock in one hand, my pinkie pushing against his balls and scrotum and gave him one slow sexy look before taking his whole length inside my mouth in an instant. I quickly withdrew his cock from my mouth and repeated the manoeuvre. I started to suck him properly, my tongue running the length of his cock, my lips palpating his shaft. In the steamy moisture of my mouth, the lipstick tracery I had left on his cock while deep throating him was washed off and the sour/sweet taste of his flesh was mixed with that of my sticky lipstick. As his excitement built I added little grace notes: stopping the sucking to flick his cock head and his balls with my tongue; planting kisses from my full red lips all over his shaft; letting him see my fingers working in my pussy as I blew him.
All the time I was careful never to let him come. Finally I stopped slurping his cock and stood up. He murmured a protest, but I pressed my index finger against the lips that had only moments ago been tightly wrapped around his dick and he fell quiet. Indicating his cock, I said, “I think you’re ready now.” I kaçak bahis reached between my legs and collected my boiling juices on my hand. Holding it up to the window so the light made it sparkle, I told him, “And I’m definitely ready. But first.”
I faced away from him and, spreading my legs, bent over, giving him a look at my spread pussy lips. He groaned and I hoped he wasn’t about to spatter his load on the ceiling. He didn’t though and I finished getting the camcorder out of my bag. I sat it on his bedside cabinet and arranged it so we would both in view, taking the remote control in my hand. “Get up,” I said. He did and I replaced him on his bed, my hands grasping the headboard, one cheek pressed against it as I turned my face to the camera. I wiggled my ass in the air at him and told him to take me from behind. He hesitated, looking at the camera.
“If I don’t feel that cock in my cunt in ten seconds, I’m leaving.”
I think it took him about five.
When I felt his weight on the mattress I pressed the record button and checked to see that the little red light – how appropriate – was on. It was. Almost immediately I felt his cock pushing into my pussy and I moaned. I’m usually pretty loud during sex – I like to give whoever’s fucking me some encouragement, and moaning gets me off anyway – but today I was louder than ever.
Each of my moans carried a desperate edge; pure pleasure mixed with the sharp pain of an innocent pussy being stretched by an experienced cock. I came really quickly, gritting my teeth and shrieking, “Oh Bob…Oh Bob! Your cock is so big!” He kept fucking me, not varying his rhythm or force and I worried that he might come before I did again. His hands circled my body, finding my breasts, which he stroked and grabbed as he fucked me. I began to thrust back, slamming my ass against him, harder and harder. The pleasure grew in me until every exhalation was a loud, throaty moan and every inhalation a pleasure pain gasp. Bob was chanting “Fuck” over and over like a spell.
Finally his cock spurted in me and his come sprayed into my cunt. This set off my second orgasm and pleasure spread like electric fire through my body, flushing my breasts and tingling my nipples, making every part of me as sensitive as new skin. I rammed my pussy against Bob’s rapidly softening cock with desperate force until the last echoes of pleasure had faded. I hit stop on the camcorder remote and, after Bob had slipped out of me, lay on the bed.
Breath came back into my body as Bob’s semen trickled out of it. He lay beside me and with a too-practised air said, “Well, you’re getting an A”. He’d wanted to say that since I’d grabbed his cock in the lecture theatre.
“Sorry to say Bob, but I’m not one of your students.”
“I don’t take your class Bob.”
“Then why did you…?”
I interrupted. “There’s a girl who takes your class was sick today. Quite tall, quite slim, no tits or ass, long brown hair.”
“You mean Miranda. One of my best students.”
His hand was playing with my left nipple and I stopped him, wanting his whole concentration.
“From now on, she’s scraping passes.”
“No…I couldn’t do that I mean…”
I cut him off, grabbing the camcorder and flipping open the view window on the side. I switched it to play mode, rewound the film I’d made and set it running. There I was, pressed against his headboard as he approached me from behind and began fucking me. In the frame he was clearly identifiable, his face well lit by the window. It was brutally obvious that good old Bob Richards was fucking one of his students.
“Alright,” he said. “But I get the tape.”
I just laughed: we both knew he wouldn’t ever get the tape.
“Look Bob, this is the only thing I want from you, so no-one else is going to see this tape and, if it’s any consolation, you made me come. Twice. When Miranda told me she was ill today, I thought I’d have to fake it.”
His face was blank now. I quickly dressed, pulling on my skirt and top and grabbing my shoes and bag. As I went down the stairs I took out my mobile and hit speed-dial.
“Paul. Come pick me up. I’m at uh 16 Valedy Lane.” I was outside now and had checked the number on Bob’s door.
“I can’t,” he said. The curtain in Bob’s room moved. Fuck – after everything, he still wanted another look at me.
“Look Paul, if you come and pick me up and if you’re here within fifteen minutes I’ll suck your cock while you drive me home.”
He began to explain. There’s someone else. I don’t think we should…
“Paul, I know you’re fucking Miranda. I’ve forgiven you, okay? Now come pick me up.”
He hung up. Fine. I dialled a taxi firm and gave them the address.
“What’s the name?” asked the disinterested voice at the exchange.
A Post-script:On Valedy Lane
The cool brunette stepped back from the window and pulled the curtains shut, her delicate lips quirked in a slight smile that lingered in her eyes. Shortly after Kim had tramped down the stairs she had slipped into the bedroom. She was nude, with small, perfect breasts capped with pale rose nipples and a delicately trimmed thatch of hair dusting her small pussy. Her ass was pale and round.
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