tagFirst TimeAllison in the Library

Allison in the Library

byBaxter72©

I suppose everyone remembers their first time. They remember it because it was awkward and embarrassing and disappointing, or in the case of the girl—painful as well.

After all of these years, I remember my first time with a continue sense of disbelief. It was hard to believe at the time—and it is hard to believe still. I think the reason that I stayed in academia and became a college professor and am now retired is all because of that first experience.

I came from a family in which no one had ever graduated from high school, but despite that, I won a full all-expenses-paid scholarship to a prestigious but small New England college.

The college through its history had always catered mostly to the sons of the wealthy—which my family certainly was not—but now for the first time in its history had decided to admit women. The time was the late 1960s, so you can understand the reasons for that. Like all institutions of higher learning, this college was being pressured with demonstrations to make things "equal." So this was the first year that girls were admitted. I found out a little later that the ones who were admitted were anxious to prove how liberal and open-minded they were. This was, after all, the time of the "Sexual Revolution."

I was studying in the library at that time as was my habit, since the dorm in which I lived was too noisy and boisterous for study, and I was sitting at a table by myself when she came over.

"Can I sit here?" she asked. I looked up. She was absolutely beautiful. She looked a lot like Ali McGraw, who was starring in a popular movie of the time, "Love Story." In today's world, 40 years later, you would have to say that she looked a lot like Katie Holmes—before she met Tom Cruise. She was about five-eight with long dark hair, a willowy figure, and a beautiful smile. In this 1960s age of mini-skirts, she was wearing a long denim skirt and a black turtleneck sweater. She looked very unusual and very beautiful.

"Okay." I looked around. That was odd. There were about 20 identical study tables in the library, and only three of them had any people at them. Why would she want to sit here? Oh well. I went back to my book.

"You're a freshman, aren't you?" she asked after awhile. I looked up and nodded. "I saw you at the freshman orientation," she said. "I'm a freshman too."

"I know that. You would have to be, since you're a girl."

She laughed. "Where are you from?"

"New Jersey."

"I'm from Idaho. Scholarship?"

I nodded.

"Me too. They gave out a lot of them this year."

I returned to my book, and we both fell into silence. I have to confess at this point that I was not a student who knew his way around women. I would not say that I came from a sheltered background, but in high school, I was always something of a "book nerd" and did not have any serious girlfriends. I was a virgin in other words.

After about 20 minutes, she spoke again. "Have you ever done it in a library?"

I looked up. "Done what?"

"Had sex. In a library."

I stared at her. She had to be kidding. "No."

"Would you like to?"

I looked around. "I don't know. What do you mean?"

"Look behind you. There's eight aisles of books. At the far end, around the corner of the stack, there's a table just like this one. No one is there—and no one can see there from anywhere else in the library."

I stared at her. She had to be kidding.

"Do you want to or not?' she asked.

"I don't know...I don't want to---"

"I'm going to go back there. If you want to have sex with me, you can follow. If you don't want to, you can go home—and cry if you want." She got up and carrying a small black bag purse walked back to the last aisle. I watched her as she turned.

What the hell was I going to do? I did not want to get kicked out of college for doing something like this. But also, I never had an offer like this in my life. Was I going to go back there with her—or was I going to go back to the dorm and cry? Was she kidding or what? Was this some kind of a joke? I could not believe it. But I had to find out. I got up and slowly walked back to the last row of books.

She was sitting on the far edge of the 4 x 6 oak table with her back to me. I walked around so I was facing her. She pushed off her shoes and put her feet up on the table. "Take off my panties," she said.

I reached under her skirt until I felt her panties. She lifted herself up and I slid them up over her thighs and then down her calves and finally off her feet.

"You can keep them—as a souvenir," she said. I put them in my pocket. Then she raised the hem of her skirt until it was bunched around the top of her thighs and laid back on the table. "Put it in," she said.

And there it was—right in front of me. A girl's vagina—or should I call it a "pussy"? With a nice fringe of dark hair around it. I unzipped my pants and pulled it out. To my surprise and relief, I already had a hard-on. My mind must have been already thinking about what might happen. I wasn't sure exactly what to do, but between the two of us, we managed to push it in—and I found that she was wet and warm inside. And tight. Within a few minutes, I was pumping away lie a piston engine and not giving a shit if we were caught or not. I knew that we both could be expelled for this if we were caught, but I didn't give a rat's ass at that time.

Finally, I came deep inside of her, and I think she got off as well. It was then I realized that you are supposed to use a condom for this. But I was not going to mention it if she was not.

Finally, I stood up again and with great reluctance pulled out of her. I was wet and dripping, and so was she.

"Here," she said, handing me two tissues from the black purse that was on the table beside her. I wiped off, as she did with two more tissues, and threw them into a nearby basket.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Frank."

"Well, Frank, my name is Allison, and if you give me your phone number, I'll call you when I want to meet with you again." She took a pad and pen from her purse.

I still could not believe this. It was like some kind of a dream come true.

"Ah, I don't remember the number in my room, but if you call Hopkins Hall, they can put you through to the room."

"Okay. I'll call you in a couple of days." Then she slid off the table and was gone. Normally, I would have thought all this was a dream—except that I still had her perfumed panties in my pocket.

I slept with them under my pillow that night.

Three days later, I knew that I would never hear from her again. But on the fourth day, she called.

"Hi, Frank," she said, "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing, why?"

"You know where the football field is?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you meet me in the center of the football field around nine o'clock?"

"There's nothing going on at that time."

"Right. See you then." And she hung up.

And I began to get an idea of what must be her motivation. She wanted to do it with a near-stranger, and she wanted to do it in some place where she could possibly get caught. She also told me later that we did not need to use a condom since she could not get pregnant. "Daddy took care of that," she said—whatever that meant.

But I was not going to question it. When I got to the middle of the football field, I found her already there and dressed in one of the college's cheerleader uniforms. I don't know where she got that.

"Do you want to hear my cheer?" she asked with a smile.

"Sure"

"Gimme an F. Gimme a U. Gimme a C. Gimme a K. What's that spell!"

I could tell from her jumps during the cheer that she was not wearing anything under the short skirt. So I laid her down in the middle of the field and gave her what she had asked for. I plowed into her like I was the star of the team and she was the head cheerleader. And since she yelled quite loudly, I guess I must have gotten the point after touchdown as well.

It was another four nights before she called me again.

"The theatre department is doing a production of 'The Crucible'," she said.

"I saw the posters."

"You know where the stage is?"

"Of course."

"They rehearse until four, but there's no one there after that. Why don't you meet me on the stage at five."

"How do I get in?"

"They never lock it. And bring some Vaseline."

"Why?"

"You'll find out."

"Okay." What now, I thought?

I entered the theatre at five. It was empty. She was standing in the middle of the stage wearing a Puritan costume with a long gray woolen skirt that she had apparently "borrowed" from the dressing room.

"So what's the story?" I asked, walking up on the stage.

"What's that over there?" she asked.

I looked over. A wooden punishment stock with holes for wrists and neck had been erected at the side of the stage.

"I think they call it a stock," I said.

"If you locked me into it, you could get behind me and do anything you wanted, and I wouldn't be able to resist. Did you bring the Vaseline?"

"Yes."

"Let's do it then." She went over and opened the top of the stock and put her wrists and neck into the proper places. I closed the stock over her and went behind her.

"I want you to do it in my ass," she said, "I've never had it that way."

I lifted up the bottom of her heavy woolen skirt and laid it over her back. As I expected, she was not wearing any underclothing, and her beautiful ass was there just waiting to be plundered. I took out the small jar of Vaseline, greased up my pole, and began to push it into her. God, she was tight! I could certainly believe she had never had it there before. She began to moan loudly. When I pushed my finger into the back of her pussy, I could feel that she was incredibly wet, and it was easy to make her come just with my finger—as I came in her ass.

Finally, I "unstocked" her.

"Thank you so much for this experience," she said with a smile. "I appreciate your coming to the back door." She said it like I was some sort of handyman.

And that was the end of that one. I was beginning to actually hope that we would get caught—just to put an end to all of this. It was getting too crazy, too bizarre. I was beginning to think she was nuts. As it turned out, I was not far off the mark.

The fourth and final time came four days later.

"Do you know where Pelzer Hall is?" she asked on the phone.

"Sure. It's one of the girls' dorms. You live there."

"How did you know that?"

"I looked you up."

"Then you know my last name."

"Yeah, it's Morrison."

"You shouldn't have done that. At any rate, bed check at Pelzer is ten p.m. Most of the room lights go out after that. But the hall lights are still on. If you come to the first floor door on the east side of the building at eleven tomorrow night, you'll find the door locked from the outside. But I'll be there to let you in."

"Then what?"

"Then we go to my room and do it."

"Don't you have a roommate?"

"Of course. But she's cool. She doesn't mind...as long as she can watch. So we can't be under the covers or anything."

I sighed. I hate to sound ungrateful at this point, but I was beginning to feel like I was being used.

"Is it a deal?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's a deal."

So I was there at the appointed time, and she was there to let me in. She seemed to be wearing only a bathrobe. She held her finger to her lips as if to indicate that I was not to say anything. Then she led me by the hand to her room on the third floor and quietly opened the door. Another girl, also with dark hair and dressed in white pajamas was sitting on the bunk on the left side of the room. The matching bunk on the right side was apparently Allison's.

"This is Becky," Allison said, and I shook Becky's hand. She also was quite pretty and looked a little embarrassed but like me had probably been seduced into Allison's fantasy.

Allison removed her robe and tossed it on the bed. She was completely naked.

"Get your clothes off," she said.

I pulled off my shirt, unfastened my jeans and pushed them down with my underwear, and pushed my shoes off.

"Let's do it," she said, laying down on the bed and spreading her legs.

I climbed on the bed and laid down on top of her. But then I rolled over so that she was on the top of me. Then I shoved it into her so Becky could get a good view. Allison cried out sharply, and I could feel that as usual she was already wet inside. I pumped her as hard as I could until I came inside of her.

Finally, she rolled off, and I stood up, my cock still wet and dripping. I walked over to Becky.

"You want more of the same?" I asked. I couldn't believe that in a couple of short weeks I had turned from a shy "virgin nerd" into an aggressive and demanding stud.

Becky shook her head.

"Then you can lick it off and clean it up—as payment for watching," I ordered.

"Do what he says," Allison said.

And she did. She licked it and cleaned it all off. What a night. I would remember it forever. Just to give her a taste of what she was missing, when she had finished licking it off, I squeezed her nose so she would have to open her mouth and shoved it down her throat until she began to choke. Then I pulled it out. "Tastes good, doesn't it?" I asked.

And that was the last I ever saw of Allison. I found out a week later that on the advice of the college dean of students, her rich parents had come and picked her up. And the last I heard she was in an expensive "rehabilitation hospital" in Brookline, Mass.

So after all these years, I can still say that she was not only the first piece of ass I ever had...she also was the weirdest.

The End

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