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“Hello, there,” I said to myself in the mirror. “My name is Lisa.” I liked the way my face looked: round, but not fat, with greenish-blue eyes, a not-too-big snub nose, and full lips over “nice teeth.” Everyone says so.
I was really flying high after my first week at college. The classes, the professors, the other students—everything turned me on, the confident, smart, and strong men, even the girls.
I got back to my dorm room by the middle of the afternoon and found my roommate gone. Mona said she was taking off with her boyfriend for the weekend. That’s right, we’re the team of Mona and Lisa!
Here I am and I know what I want to do. This virgin girl needs to blow off some of the pent up energy that I’ve been churning all week.
I pulled the shades and made sure the door was locked before stretching out on the bed. I lifted my shirt over my head and reached around back to unhook my bra. These days I still only wore a plain white underwire style.
My breasts were round and firm, plump, but not overly large. I caressed each one by swirling my hand and gently squeezing. My nipples were big with a brownish hue. They used to embarrass me in the locker room after high school gym class, but the first time my main squeeze saw them he almost creamed his pants right then and there. So, I know I’ve got good ones.
I love to brush my fingers over the areola and feel the bumps. When I wet my fingers with my spit, I rub a little harder to get the tips of my nipples to pop up. I wish I could get them into my mouth. The best I can do is push them up to lick the top of my round orbs. I love the taste of my own flesh, especially when it has a dried glaze from the day’s sweat.
I rubbed my belly before sliding my hands inside the waistband of my slacks. I pretended my left hand was a bad boy trying to grab my snatch.
“Watch out! That thing’s hot!” I laughed out loud and rolled over to take off my slacks.
I left my plain white panties on when I started to rub my blossom. My kitty was already damp and I started rocking my hips to a melody in my head.
I rubbed with the base of my palm so that I could twirl my fingertips around the edges of my undies and play with the outer rows of my pubies. This was my own little method of foreplay.
When I was ready to go, I slid the panties off and brought them to my face for a sniff. I always get off on my telltale musk. I started with my finger moving up and down over my slit, then a twirling action at the top of my clitoris, followed by a quick poke with one, two, and finally three fingers into my vagina.
I’m no expert in anatomy, but I think I have a big cunt. When I let my clumsy prom date finger me on the beach the morning after, it barely felt like anything. I always use more than one finger to make myself come. I danced with my left hand for a minute or two, and then switched to using my right hand to love my puss-puss while licking the delicious nectar off the fingers of the other hand.
Maybe I’m being a nasty girl by tasting my own juices, but I love doing it and it acts like a fuel, revving up my libido another notch. I kept alternating hands from cunt to mouth like a bear scooping honey from a bee hive. I could feel my labia swelling.
“Oooh,” I swooned as I brought both hands down to my mound of Venus and squeezed it, tangling my fingers in my hair.
I wish I had a cucumber or a banana. The best fucking I ever gave myself was with a banana, which I ate immediately after finishing my orgasm. The best action I could do now was to use both hands.
I spit into the palm of my free hand before finding my asshole and planting a second set of fingers. I heard myself moan involuntarily as I fingered my ass and cunt in syncopated rhythm.
I sang a little tune: “When I think about me, I fuck myself.”
I raised my body off the bed as I synchronized a sawing action of fingers in my sex and a thumb fucking my ass. I stiffened my thigh muscles as my knees quivered and I launched my first big-O almanbahis of the day. The fluid spurted from my vagina and trickled onto my hot little heinie.
Well, it’s not so little, I confess. My ass isn’t an apple-shaped booty, but it’s not dimpled or lumpy either. Two round cheeks that the chosen one will take hold of when I present him with my first boy-fuck.
For now, I will have to be content with my fingers, which are still working both my apertures while I roll onto my knees to lap up my puddle of lady goop. Though I hadn’t given a guy a blow job yet, I think a man’s goop tastes like its smell, which I know from giving a few hand jobs.
I popped my thumb out of my bum hole and stuck it in my mouth. First, I licked it to enjoy the secret taste of my ass and then sucked my thumb, pretending it was a dick. A little small, for sure, but it was good practice without the real thing.
I tried to keep it steady as my lips moved up and down, my tongue swirling the tip. Then I brought my other hand up and pumped my wrist and forearm, simulating a fairly large member.
The thought of an instrument so fucking big tripped my second orgasm. I gritted my teeth and pressed my thighs together, swung my legs open, and closed them again. A groan from deep in my throat lasted for over a minute. I was dizzy and thought I’d pass out.
This girl wondered: Could getting fucked by a real boy be any better?
I rolled onto my back and raised my arms. I sniffed and licked my sweat from under one armpit and then the other.
Next I returned my forefinger to my labia, pinching my fleshy lips, and sliding inside for barely a few seconds before my butt started involuntarily rocking on my way to coming again. I swung around, sticking my ass end high in the air and pulled the pillow from beneath the disheveled bedclothes.
I twisted up a corner and brought the clump into my mouth, sucking it like the chosen one’s cock. I talked to Mr. Cock between sucks, alternately pretending the fabric I licked was a set of nuts.
On the crest of a multiple orgasm, my left thumb and forefinger respectively exercised my clit and vaginal mons while my right middle finger diddled my bum. I was flowing like a faucet and squeezing whatever things were working inside all three of my openings.
I didn’t know what to call them, but puffs of air streamed from my big, bountiful cunt. I was drooling all over the pillow and losing my head as I got off. I bit into the pillow, tearing the material and blowing downy stuffing into the air.
In orgasmic senselessness, I failed to note the tittering outside the door, the scratching of a key, throwing a tumbler, and turning a handle. The squeaking of the door alerted me to peer between my legs from underneath my hindquarters without ceasing my triple fingering.
There stood my roommate, Mona, and her boyfriend, Eric, speechless and taking in the view. I didn’t move or speak. Finally, Mona said, “Why don’t we come back in five minutes?” and they disappeared behind the door. My fingers were still plugged in and I didn’t say a word.
I was short of breath as I scrambled to put my clothes back on, humiliated beyond anything I had ever experienced. When they awkwardly came back in, after tapping at the door and waiting for my meek croaking of “Hello,” I was painfully aware that the stink of my sweat and sex hung over the room. Worse, they had seen me display every secret nook of my bod.
“I thought you were gone for the weekend.” My words were a statement, not a question.
“I need to grab some things to wear,” she answered. Her wording—to wear—seemed to reiterate that I was naked in front of their eyes a moment ago.
They acted startled when I stood up and announced, “Well, why don’t I get out of your way then?” I made a show of finding a towel and my makeup case and heading to the girls’ lavatory and shower room, all the while feeling Eric’s eyes upon me—all over me.
Mona and Eric were gone when I returned half almanbahis yeni giriş an hour later with a note addressed to me on the dresser.
In Mona’s handwriting, it read: Let’s have a warning system. If one of us is doing something private, let’s put an elastic band on the outside door handle as a signal. Same thing if you have a guest.
I had no idea how ironic those words would be in the next three months with my first semester’s roomie. Mona came back to the room every weeknight with the boy named Eric after midnight. I was always in bed and lights out by ten. They would enter quietly, undress outside the bed, and slip under the covers.
Whispering would turn to a pattern of breathing that sounded like kissing, followed by a rustling of arms and legs that gave way to panting and slurping, which I came to realize was mutual oral sex; he eats her and she sucks him.
After no more than five minutes of this, they would roll around and start a steady pattern of bouncing and gasping. I have no idea who was on top of whom, but they were definitely screwing.
This happened every night until the weekend when Mona would take off—presumably home. I was only alone and on my own Fridays and Saturdays. At first, I tried to ignore their doings, but after a couple of weeks, I started quietly giving myself a finger job while listening to Eric and Mona.
I’m sure they thought I was deeply asleep, but I tried to discern when Mona came or Eric climaxed so that I could tickle my fancy at the same moment. After a while, I felt like we three were getting it on together. Not that we were intimate friends at all. In fact, since I had all early morning classes, we never saw each other or even had a chance to speak.
Eric and Mona’s nocturnal pattern was interrupted one Friday night when she showed up with someone else. In the utter darkness I could tell he wasn’t Eric by his movements, his higher pitched whispering, and larger shadow.
I also realized he was black, not white, although I’m not sure what tipped me off. I closed my eyes and pretended my finger was a chocolate-colored pussy stretcher.
The sounds were different as well. Her guest kept talking to Mona in clipped syllables between deep breathing and she kept going with a constant chatter. After a time, I distinctly heard her call him honey, sweetie, sugar, and baby.
The grinding of their hips was harder and lasted far longer than Mona’s rides with Eric. Her panting sounded more like sobbing, but ended with a flourish of kisses up and down his body and moved seamlessly into a second fucking that followed some very loud cock and pussy eating.
Of course, I masturbated and came off again, even lip-smacking my sticky fingers afterward.
Mona’s mystery man was gone before I got up the next morn and she didn’t speak a word of it. The next Monday night, Eric was back.
Since I had my period that week, it occurred to me for the first time that Mona seemed not to abstain during those days of her cycle. The idea of fucking during menses intrigued me to the point that I masturbated through my menstrual blood and tasted it on my fingers, imagining Eric to enjoy the same with Mona.
The most unusual circumstances shortly transpired. I had a day off from classes and Mona had an early morning exam and so I found myself sleeping late with Eric snoring in the next bed. At some point, I stirred and looked out from under my blanket to see Eric standing by the window in only his boxer shorts.
He was lighting a joint. His body was thin, bony, and pale-skinned. The slit in the front of his beige boxers was opened and I saw his junk surrounded by a few strands of wiry hair. What I saw was a cocktail wiener and a couple of walnuts, looking more childish than formidable.
Peering through a cloud of smoke, Eric saw me checking him out and slowly walked toward me. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he offered me a hit of his joint. I shook my head no and he took another drag, seated with his almanbahis giriş cock and balls only a few inches from my face.
I could smell him—sweat, semen, and Mona’s cunt—and I was damp before I realized it. He would smell me in a moment, no doubt. Then he reached his hand under the covers and felt my left breast. I said no and pulled away, but he laughed and said, “Don’t be scared.”
I started to say I wasn’t scared at all as his hand moved from left tittie to right tittie, squeezing and pinching each nipple in turn. I cast my gaze into his lap and saw Mr. Penis rising high in the air.
“I really liked the way we met,” he said slyly as he pinched out the weed. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or pleased with the compliment. “You were really rocking it.”
This is not how I would’ve prepared for the occasion of my deflowering. I was unshowered and unshaved, hiding a patch of stubble under my arms as well as a forest of peach fuzz growing on my legs.
I didn’t even think about a mouthful of morning breath until his lips pressed against mine. After kissing my lips and sucking my tongue, he went back to my tits, nibbling and licking each nipple. I told him to bite the tip of my nipple between his teeth and slowly pull it as far as he could and then let it snap back.
He did as he was told. “Again … again … yeah … again!”
With brazen assurance, Eric stood up and let his shorts drop to the floor, holding his rod in his fist while I kicked away my blanket. He leaned over me and rubbed the head of his dick against my cheek. I tried to flick it with my tongue, but he teased me by pulling it away and then coming back and rolling it over my lips like a tube of lipstick.
When I opened my mouth to welcome his cock, I whimpered with pleasure and dropped a mouthful of drool inside his thigh. Meanwhile, his hand found a swamp between my legs, which teemed with feminine odor as he squeezed and rubbed my spongy pussy. I started to rattle with orgasm as soon as he went down on me with his mouth.
We rocked in sixty-nine position until the first spurt hit the back of the roof of my mouth. The taste was unexpectedly salty and I spit out his spunk. I was afraid I hurt his feelings and so I affectionately kissed and licked his pecker, calling it my sweet piece of candy, even though it tasted of scum, piss, and sweat.
In the next four hours, Eric fucked me in the mouth, fucked my cunt, let me get on top and ride him like a cowgirl for a second fucking, licked my ass while fingering my cunt, slurped up his own wad from my swollen puss-puss, and let me finger-fuck him in the ass.
I tasted his asshole, but it was bitter and not as sweet as my own bum’s taste. For the grand finale, I pinned him under me and lowered my cunt onto his rod, then moved up and nearly suffocated him with a sloshing face rub, and finished by swiveling around and letting him poke my ass.
I howled at the top of my lungs as he shot hot spurts of man-milk between my butt cheeks. We never did brush our teeth.
Later, however, I realized there was no cherry-popping going on here, that he either never ripped through my hymen or the veil had parted long ago, probably since my first encounter with a tampon.
Thinking back, I suspect the first case, as he spurted into my thighs on the first try in my cunt, slipped out on the second, and shot all over my stomach as well as my butt cheeks the other times. Maybe I got to sex it up like a slut and still kept my virginity intact. I guess I had my cake and ate it, too—or should I say cock!
Only after showering—separately, of course—dressing, and sharing a leftover baloney sandwich did I remember that I had neglected to put an elastic band on the doorknob. I paid no heed to the time. Mona might have come back and caught us going at it.
We were both still in the room when she got back, in a very chipper mood, apparently having done well on her exam. She asked what we were up to, and Eric said kiddingly, “Lisa made me fuck her six times. It was awesome.”
Mona laughed, “Yeah, right, and I skipped my exam to go screw the shit out of my black boyfriend.”
We laughed, smiled, and winked at each other.
“We just hung out here and waited for you,” I said, as Eric and Mona shared a little kiss.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
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