My Coming Out - Another Look Back

I made my way across a couple streets, back to the confines of the UGA campus. I had been walking for only a short time when it hit me; my legs still felt like Jell-O. "I HAVE to sit down!" I thought to myself. I quickly made my way to a bench.

I sat there for the next several minutes trying to process what had just happened. To say the least, I had mixed feelings about the encounter. Of course, I hadn't enjoyed the way Professor 'X' had forced me to swallow his semen. On the other hand, I couldn't deny that the two tremendous orgasms he had given me had really rocked my world. I thought back on the Professor's forceful "technique". I knew that the culture of his native country was male dominated, to say the least. Was the Professor's method of screwing calculated to "keep a woman in her place"? Reaching no conclusions, I repositioned my backpack and headed back to my dorm. Understandably, I didn't have the bounce in my step that I had on the way to Professor 'X's apartment.

When I entered my dorm room, my roommate took one look at my appearance and exclaimed, "Hey Girl, what's up with you?"

I looked down at the floor and replied, "Oh, I'm just having problems with my allergies and I think I may be coming down with a cold."

My roommate went into her "big sister" mode. "Do you have a post nasal drip?" she inquired.

I shook my head, "Well, something like that."

"Well", she came back, "You need to go gargle some salt water."

I smiled, nodded, and turned away. The last thing I wanted in my mouth was the taste of salt water!

As it turned out, my roommate was going out and was planning on spending the night with her boyfriend. So, I had the whole place to myself. I took a quick shower (after brushing my teeth for a solid ten minutes) and resolved to turn in early. After closing all the curtains, I laid down and pulled the covers over me. After a few minutes of quietly laying there I realized that my vagina was still throbbing from the going-over that it had received just a couple of hours earlier. I pulled up my long tee shirt that doubled as sleepwear, spread my legs slightly and placed my hand over my labia (I never wear panties to bed). I gently squeezed the labia which added even more to the pleasurable tingling. I didn't have any desire to masturbate (which I did frequently); I was just trying to reconcile the "pluses and minuses" of my encounter that afternoon.

I thought back on the last three years and the guys that I had slept with during that period. Although I had enjoyed all of them (some more than others, naturally), I still wasn't sure of what I truly wanted as my "perfect man". At age 20, I knew that there were a ton of other characteristics that I wanted in a man besides good sex. I mean, every couple has to get out of bed SOMETIME. However, I still knew that I could never be interested in a man who was not a good lover. My encounter with Professor 'X' had only added more to the mix of characteristics that I wanted. Yes, in many ways, the Professor had been a bit crude. However, let's face it. He was a man who could give a woman a great deal of pleasure.

I squeezed my labia again which brought about another round of intense tingling. I continued thinking about Professor 'X' and Avi. Both of those guys had sent me somewhere that I had never been before; though in different ways. But what had these two guys done that had made them so memorable (again in different ways)? I smiled to myself in the dark. Although I was "Good Baptist Girl" and although I detested lapsing into vulgarity, the plain and simple truth was that these two guys had been the only ones who had left me with the indescribable feeling of being "well fucked". Yes, it sounds vulgar; I admit it. But it was still the truth!

I think it was at this instant that I resolved that, although there were many factors in the man that I wanted to spend my life with, I could still not be happy unless I was with a man who could truly "take care of business" when it came to the bedroom. I gave my labia a final gentle squeeze and went to sleep. It had been a most interesting day!

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And so, "Dear Readers", this episode comes to an end. Returning my thoughts to the present day, I ran a final spell check and, again, turned my attention to the UGA web site. I linked again to Professor 'X's department and stared at his name.

Leaning back in my chair, I thought of the man, that day, and the UGA environment. I chuckled again at that afternoon's events but then I wondered how many little "Susie Coeds" had been bent over that same ottoman to submit to that thick cock? How many had had their lips and jaws distended while the good Professor coolly and methodically pumped his hot sticky liquid down their throats? How many? Fifty? A hundred? Two hundred? With a new supply of young coeds coming in each fall, the good Professor certainly had a fertile "hunting ground". I shook my head. No matter. I'll let someone else worry about that.

A few years back, I recounted that afternoon's events to a woman (a little older than me) that I thought was reasonably well adjusted. When I finished my story, she began sputtering, "My God, that's terrible! He took advantage of you! You should have reported him! You could have pressed charges!"

I crossed my arms and carefully looked into her face. "You're serious?" I asked.

"Of course", was her reply, "He got you drunk and used his position to take advantage of you." I looked back at her, smiled, shook my head and changed the subject. Professor 'X' had done no such thing. Truth be told, from the time that I had taken my top off, I knew what was going to happen. (I just didn't realize HOW it was going to happen!) Yes, it was very crass for Professor 'X' to expose himself in the way he did. And, yes, it was gauche for him to force me to swallow his semen in the manner he did.

However, I think it's totally ludicrous to get as worked up as this woman did. Why some women, such as this one (and several others I've seen), are always looking to be a "victim", I will never know. I suppose that they've just never understood the concept of "Get Over It". A few years back, I was driving home from the elementary school where I teach. A brand new Porsche passed me and I noticed that on the back bumper was a large bumper sticker that read, "Put On Your Big Girl Panties and Deal With It". I laughed out loud. Obviously the blond lady driving the Porsche didn't have any problems "dealing with it." Still, that bumper sticker expresses my attitude toward life. I just don't excited about little negatives such as those displayed by the good Professor.

Speaking of Professor 'X'; no, I never returned to his apartment. As a matter of fact, I bumped into him only two or three times during the remainder of my college days at UGA. I'm sure that he was looking for new flesh to conquer and, as for me; I was looking for something entirely different.

That summer seemed to fly by. I began my senior year that fall and a couple of months later I met this good looking guy by the name of Gary. As they say, ".....and the rest is history." And what a fantastic history it's been!

POSTSCRIPT

The last page of this story was coming off the printer when Gary walked in and asked, "Hey, are you going to stay up all night?"

I looked over at the clock. It was almost 11:00 P.M. Usually, during the week, we're in bed at least an hour earlier.

I stood up and gathered all the papers from the printer. "No, I just finished the story that we talked about on Monday."

Gary smiled back at me, "You mean the one about you and your Professor?" I nodded back. Gary reached out his hand, "Come on. I'd like to read it."

I pretended to be shocked. "God, no! I know how insanely jealous you are! You don't want to read this!" We both broke out laughing. If anyone had any right to be jealous, it should have been me! I may have had sixteen guys back at UGA but Gary probably had more than triple that number of UGA coeds. It wasn't until we were married for two years that one of Gary's friends spilled the beans and told me that he and Gary had been having a contest to see who could bed the most women. With all the screwing around that Gary had done, I'm surprised that he had the time to attend class.

I stapled all the pages together, handed them to Gary and said with a smile, "Remember, I warned you. You're the one that wanted to know about this." Gary sat down and began reading. I headed for the shower.

Finishing quickly, I stepped out and toweled off. As I gave my hair a short brushing, the thought hit me, "Hmmm, I wonder what Gary's reaction is going to be?" Although I was pretty sure, I wasn't one hundred percent positive. I determined that I would just have to "play it by ear."

One thing was certain; there was at least one thing we weren't going to do. I was in the final day of my period and, although I could, I just don't like screwing during that "time of the month." Hey, call me prudish, but I never have. I guess I'm just squeamish about certain things.

Still, there were other things that could be accomplished. I put on one of my sexiest thongs which showed off my butt to its best advantage and still kept all my "paperwork" firmly in place. I grabbed a book and lay down on stomach, on top of the bed. "Now, let's see what happens", I said to myself.

About twenty minutes went by as I leafed through the book. Finally, I heard Gary's footsteps and he entered the bedroom. I waited just a few seconds before rolling over and looking up. I smiled as I saw the unmistakable outline of Gary's fully erect cock in his tight sweatpants. He flipped the story on the dresser and looked down at me. The look in his eye (along with the erection) told me that he didn't want to wait until tomorrow night.

"Damn", he exclaimed, "You didn't tell me about that before."

"You didn't ask", was my flippant reply. I sat up on the bed and brushed my hair back. "If you would have asked, I would have told you." I was just playing with him and he knew it. (Although neither Gary nor I have been shy about telling each other about some of our past lovers, Gary doesn't go into the detail that I do!)

I stood up and gently pushed him back toward the dresser. He began to get the drift of where I was going. He stepped back until he was against it. I dropped to my knees and gently tugged the sweatpants down until they were at his ankles. He kicked them off.

I ran my hands up the front of his thighs until they were even with his groin. He was wearing a tight pair of briefs which made the bulge of his erection unbelievably sexy. The tip of his cock head was peaking from the elastic waistband, almost up to his navel.

I pressed the heel of hand roughly against the huge bulge and began to rub up and down. After a few seconds, I looked up at my husband, "Honey, I need to ask you something. How long have we been married?"

In a soft voice, Gary answered, "Over thirteen years."

I continued looking up, "And in all that time, how many times have you had to try to go to sleep with a big hard on like this?"

Gary laughed, "Not once. Not one damned time."

It was my turn to laugh, "That's what I thought. And you know, I think that tonight would be a really bad time to break tradition. How about you?"

My husband laughed again. Only this time, I could see a changed expression in his eyes and I could feel his legs beginning to shake. I quickly grasped the waistband of his shorts and pulled it down, freeing that great cock. As it bobbed up and down, I jerked the shorts down past his ankles and he quickly kicked them off.

After sleeping with (and screwing) my husband for thirteen years, there's very little about his body that I don't know about. And, that includes knowing exactly when he wants to get off. This was one of those times that I knew he wasn't going to last very long. And that was alright with me!

Normally, I like to take my time when I give Gary a blowjob. I like to lick, kiss and even give gentle bites to the big thing; making it last as long as possible. However, tonight was not going to be one of those nights. I immediately got the big cock head in my mouth and after a couple of tentative movements to moisten my lips, I grasped his hips in my hands and immediately went to full speed back and forth on the stiff rod. With every fourth or fifth movement forward I would hold my breath and push forward to stuff as much of his cock into my mouth as possible before gagging.

Gary's hands tightly gripped the dresser as I savored his pole. My eyes never closed during the entire session; I kept my eyes on his face and my hands on his hips and legs for the signs that he was about erupt.

I don't think that his cock had been in my mouth for more than five minutes until those signs began to appear. Gary's head went back so far that I could no longer see his face; I could hear him beginning to gasp. Then, his thickly muscled thighs began to quiver. I knew that it would be no longer than a few seconds before "the main event". For the first time, I put my hands at the base of his cock. I eased my tongue forward, fighting my gag reflex and, after taking a last deep breath, pushed my head forward until I could feel the big cock head at the beginning of my throat.

Gary's hands left the dresser and grasped the sides of my head. Although I don't do this every time I blow Gary, I let my hands drop to my side; a subtle sign to him that I'm letting him "take charge" and that it's OK. I knew that he wasn't going to try to cram his cock down my throat like the jerk, Professor 'X'.

His hands tightened as held my head. My own hands tightened into fists as I concentrated, "Don't gag. Don't gag." Finally, I felt the big cock's first convulsion, followed by another, and another. With each convulsion, I felt a hot blast (and I do mean blast!) at the back of my mouth. I could hear Gary exclaiming something but I couldn't make it out; partly because his hands were over my ears but mostly because I was concentrating on getting that huge amount of semen down my throat.

I guess it must be some sort of a "guy" thing but I've noticed (mostly by watching porno films) that when some guys come, their semen sort of dribbles out but that in other guys it really gushes. Then, there's a third type and I'm talking about guys who really explode; I mean the semen comes out of their cocks like some kind of rocket. Gary is definitely in this third group.

Tonight, he was in his usual form. I'm not positive but I believe the first blast of his semen was in my stomach before he had even finished his orgasm. At any rate, the convulsions finally stopped and I felt Gary's grip on my head loosen. I carefully eased my head back and moved my hands up to grip his cock. Without actually removing the cock head from my mouth, I tilted my head back and swallowed the remainder of his sticky output.

I could feel Gary's pole loose it's rigidity as I gently ran my tongue over the smooth flesh of the head. I relished the last few drops of semen as they leaked out of the small opening. Finally, I let the big head slip out of my mouth. I held the shaft in my hand for a moment and gave the head an exaggerated, loud kiss.

Gary smiled down at me, "You know, you should write a book on giving blow jobs."

"How do you know I haven't?" I replied. We both laughed and I reached my arms up to him. He gently helped me to my feet and gave me a deep kiss.

"I guess I owe you one now", he said.

I put my arms around him, "Yep, and you KNOW I always collect!" I continued, "If I were you, I'd be planning on spending a lot of time on your knees tomorrow night."

"Deal", he replied. We hit the bed and I think that Gary was out cold in a matter of seconds. However, I laid there for a few moments thinking about my undergraduate days at UGA and some of the crazy things I had experienced. I snuggled up against Gary's warm body. Those four years had been a really wild ride, but meeting Gary had made it all worthwhile!