Smart Women

This story is a tribute to smart women everywhere, by far the most creative and adventurous lovers. The smarter the woman, the hotter the fuck. Why don't more men realize this truism? (Sssh, I ain't tellin 'em, it'll be our little secret, ladies!)

*

They were among the two smartest women at the University of Delaware when I matriculated there, and that may have been what they were respected for, but the men had a different level of admiration.

The roommates and sorority sisters from Alpha Phi were affectionately called the 'Double A' girls, but not just because of their Dean's List grade point averages. Lynn Abbott and Dianne Accorsi were at the very top of the student roster when listed alphabetically, but in any guy's grading system, they also happened to be two of the hottest coeds on campus. "All that smart, hot pussy in one room," raved one of my own fraternity brothers one day. "Einstein himself would be intimidated." (Me, I always figured if you had a haircut like Einstein, you couldn't be all that brainy to begin with.)

Lynn and Dianne were polar opposites in every way except for their intellectual prowess. Lynn was petite, perky, Irish, and gregarious, a captain of the cheerleading squad who was enrolled in pre-med. She stood about five-two with long light brown hair and a cute, pert little ass that could have made her a legitimate All-American tight end. She was maybe about one hundred pounds soaking wet, and since she had been fucking me silly for the better part of two months, I can attest that Lynn was frequently soaking wet, at least from the waist down.

Dianne was dark, an Olive-skinned ebony-eyed Sicilian, and voluptuous, the closest woman I've seen yet to resemble the porn star Tera Patrick, She was the owner of an almost indescribable hourglass figure with big, soft tits that stopped pedestrian traffic throughout campus.

Shy Di was quiet almost to the point of being withdrawn. Urban legend had it that she was stuck-up, but in the time I had known her, mainly through her association and close friendship with her roomie, I had found that wasn't the case at all. Dianne had a very soft, composed manner, but was also very polite, a bookworm accounting major who spent nearly every weekend for three years now traveling back to South Jersey to visit her lucky boyfriend.

Oh, and lest I forget this tidbit, no matter how hard Dianne tried, no matter what she wore, up to and including a burlap sack, her huge, dark chocolate areolas peeked through any piece of clothing like oversized Hershey Kisses on steroids. There wasn't a man on campus who had yet to touch those delicacies, though countless had taken their swings.

I happen to have a thing for areolas so wide in circumference that you could three-putt on them.

So, on more than one occasion when I was in Lynn's room, my attention was almost solely focused on Dianne's bust. I should have been duly satisfied to be banging one of the hottest chicks in school, the captain of the cheerleading squad. But, noooooo, I was fixated on Dianne's massive cocoa-colored chest cones. After all, I reasoned, this made me the only guy in school who had license to sit in her room and ogle Dianne's tits. The fact that I was tapping her roommate was icing on the cake, but almost an after-thought. (I did say, 'almost'!)

As fate would have it, Dianne soon would get the opportunity to get a glimpse of a rather prominent appendage of my own. Dianne usually didn't return from her weekends with her boyfriend until mid-evenings on Sundays, so around five o'clock one Autumn afternoon, Lynn was writhing wildly on my cock with that flexible gymnast-like body of hers, using my big dick like a balance beam with a choreographed series of leaps, acrobatic skills, somersaults, turns, and dance elements.

Lynn's animated wails of pleasure drowned out the sound of key turning lock to the door of the dorm room, and before we realized it, there were four big, dark things staring at our aerobic artistry: Dianne's two eyes and two areolas.

Lynn jumped up with a start, damn near extracting half of my cock from her clenched cunt muscles when she leaped off of me. "SHIT!" she screamed. "Dianne, what the fuck, why are you early, Goddamnit!" Lynn threw a blanket over her tushy and ran to the bathroom to hurry into a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, her stretched and well-fucked pussy streaming juices down her legs as she did so.

That left me and Di, in a stare-off between my naked, twitching cock, covered in Lynn's milky fluids, and Dianne's even-bigger-than-usual nipples poking through her purple cotton sweater.

Now, I'm no slouch when it comes to the size and girth department, the Good Man upstairs who divvies out such inventory had taken care to bless me with more than ample endowment, and as Dianne fixed her gaze on my throbbing, distended member, which until seconds ago had been buried about seven inches up her roommates' twat, I recognized the look in her midnight-black pupils. It was similar to the look that virtually every male on campus had when staring at Dianne's jugs, a combination of amazement and pure lust, as if suspended in a mesmerized trance, unable to look away.

I have to admit, I didn't rush for my own clothes. In fact, in the fifteen seconds or so when Lynn was in the bathroom, I reveled in the fact that my cock was now the center of Dianne's attention, and I casually rose from the mattress, spreading my legs apart as I faced her, and tantalizingly stroked my cock for the seemingly hypnotized beauty, who unconsciously licked her lips like a dog eyeing up a bone.

I was just sliding on my briefs when Lynn emerged from the bathroom, and Dianne turned her back and blushed as Lynn spoke, but not before getting a nice, long peek to whet her memory of the image of my eight-inch slab of steel. "Christ, I'm so sorry, Di, you usually don't come back for another couple of hours, I didn't mean to embarrass you."

I decided it would be best to bid a fond adieu to the ladies about this time, so I gave Lynn a brief kiss on the forehead and scurried from the room to let the girls sort it all out. But, just as I was closing the door behind me, I peeked over my shoulder, and from the corner of her mouth, just out of Lynn's vision, Dianne gave me a sultry smile, her dark eyes twinkling in mischief. That look alone was fodder for two animated masturbation sessions in my own dorm room later that night.

The next afternoon, in between classes, I spotted Dianne and her twin peaks, cloaked loosely in a teal blouse which did nothing to conceal the puppies within. I was lounging in the warm sun in the quadrangle outside of the business school buildings. It was an unseasonably warm Indian Summer day, and I had on a pair of loose khaki Bermuda shorts, legs spread slightly on the stoop of the steps, and as Dianne and her 'fellas' saw me, was it my imagination or were her eyes focusing in the same general area as last evening?

Just in case it were indeed so, that she was looking 'down there', just to be a show-off, my cock took the opportunity to begin bouncing up and down, essentially waving a cordial 'hello' to Di (and her breasts) as she (they?) approached.

"Hi," I said brilliantly, waiting to gauge her temperature. Would she be pissed, enraged, amused?

"Hi," she responded softly with nonchalant indifference, brushing her cropped, raven hair off of her forehead. No hint there, I sighed. My move.

"Um, listen..." I began haltingly, feeling my own face flush with heat. "I'm, uh, sorry, you know, that...well..." I shrugged bashfully, hoping she would rescue me from further chagrin.

Dianne looked down at me for a minute, apparently reveling in my obvious discomfort. She then plopped herself down next to me on the steps, so close that her thighs brushed my own. It looked as though she was doing her best to stifle a giggle. "Hey, no harm, no foul."

She must have seen me heave an audible sigh of relief. She continued, again flicking her hair in that adorable way that beautiful women have of flicking their hair. They MUST know it drives men wild, right, why else would they fucking do it? C'mon, who really needs to flick their fucking hair all day?

"Now I know how Lynn always gets those straight A's in biology. All that extra-credit work."

In the three years I'd known her, it was the first time I'd ever heard Dianne crack a funny. A big-titted smart woman with a sense of humor who flicks her hair adorably is about as good as it gets.

Before I could do anything but laugh, which was just as well, because it was now painfully apparent that I was overmatched in both the smarts AND wit department when it came to Dianne by country miles, she asked me a question, seamlessly changing the subject to a more neutral topic. "Hey, are you still having trouble grasping Gillespie's Accounting 202 course? It can be really tricky, he's a bit of bastard, no mercy."

"That's an understatement," I responded, equally happy to walk on a more sturdy conversational bridge. "I screwed up the mid-term big-time. Unless I get at least a 'B' on the final, odds are I'm going to have to take the class over."

Dianne rose, pressing her leg more tightly against mine as she stood. "So, then, why don't you come over to our room on Wednesday night about seven, and I can help tutor you?"

Instantly, my face must have lit up in excitement like the home-team side of the football scoreboard when we play West Chester (yes, they stink). Then, doing the math in my head, I scowled, remembering Lynn's schedule. "Uh, no. Lynn has her chemistry lab classes on Wednesday nights."

Dianne put a pair of sunglasses on as she began to walk away. "Yeah, I know. See you about seven?"

I nodded and then gulped. 'Could this mean what I think it might mean?' I wondered. Geez, be careful what you wish for.

Then, Dianne's next throwaway line put any ambiguity as to her intentions to rest. "I may need some help of my own with anatomy. I still can't believe what I saw last night. I may have to perform some data experiments to reinforce my hypothesis."

Be careful what you wish for, isn't that what they say?

Lynn got fucked especially vigorously for hours on Tuesday night in my dorm room, not knowing that she had her bookworm roomie to thank for my carnal enthusiasm. Even though Lynn was built like a tiny figure-skater and Dianne like the proverbial brick house, it was all I could do not to shout out Dianne's name ever time my dick reached the depths of Lynn's cunt. I was less than twenty-four hours away from accomplishing the heretofore impossible exacta: Lynn Abbott and Dianne Accorsi, two brilliant, beautiful roomies, fucking me on successive nights.

Almost like a confirmation stamp on the proceedings, as Lynn roused around midnight for the short walk from the male Rodney dorms to the female Dickinson dorms (overnight co-habitation was a strict no-no), to get back to her room, she mentioned, almost as an after-thought, while slipping on her jeans over her sopping thong, "Oh, by the way, I'd been telling Dianne about your cock, and she never believed me, how fucking big it was, until Sunday night. She kept babbling about it the whole night, she'd never imagined one could be that......" Lynn gave my pecker a playful, little tug.

"....huge. Do you know she's only been with one man ever, her boyfriend, and that's it?"

I stayed silent, figuring anything I said could and would be used against me in the court of pussy, the most powerful and unforgiving court on the planet. Lynn wrapped her arms around my neck ad gave me a long, deep, goodnight kiss. "I think she was jealous. But I told her it's mine, all mine. G'night, lover. Maybe I'll stop by after my class tomorrow evening, around ten-fifteen? For a nightcap?"

I knocked on the familiar door at precisely seven o'clock Wednesday evening, making note that it was the first time I'd ever visited on a Wednesday. It was at that exact moment that I realized that I had not remembered to bring by accounting 202 textbook. When Dianne answered the door, I knew instantly that I need not bother to run home and get it.

Dianne had on a tan leopard print ruffle chemise, her puffy areolas pressing against the sheer fabric, looking to be about the size of a small country, say Monaco. (Isn't that about three-quarters of a square mile?)

We kissed deeply, even before the door was shut, and she whispered into my ear, "I've been waiting for this for three days, ever since I saw your big dick, I must have masturbated about ten times since."

Just to join in the spirit of the mutual admiration society, I lowered the spaghetti strap off of the tanned, flawless skin of her shoulder, and raised the ante. "I've been waiting for this for three years, ever since I saw your tits, I must have jerked off a thousand times."

Dianne shoved me back against the door and dropped to her knees, unzipping my pants and pulling them down to my ankles in one swift urgent motion.

"So you think I'm pretty?" she asked, looking up at me. Foolish question for a smart girl.

I looked down and saw my dick rising to life in front of her face. "Definitely. You know I do."

Then she pulled the top half of her chemise down and reached behind to unclasp her bra, tossing it aside. She'd never done this before? Could have fooled me.

She held a breast in each hand, squeezing, and looking up to make sensual eye contact with me, said, "Be honest. When do you think I look most beautiful?" Then Dianne took my now fully erect cock into her mouth, still holding her tits, and never diverting her glance from deep in my eyes.

"Uhh," I stuttered, then paused, absorbing the sensation of my needy cock finally wedged snugly between Dianne's full lips.

"Tell me," she said, removing her mouth from my cock to speak. "When do you think I look the prettiest now, the sexiest? Say it." She again plunged her mouth down over my cock, holding perhaps five inches in her mouth, never losing eye contact.

"You look hottest, sexiest, prettiest when you have my big fat cock in your mouth."

"That's what I thought," she said. "Do you think about me when you're fucking Lynn, like you were last night?"

"All the time," I whimpered honestly as she surrounded my cock with her mouth again.

Dianne looked up at me, pouting slightly for effect. In my wildest fantasies about Dianne, and there were many, I hadn't fathomed that she could assume the role of sex kitten so seamlessly. "But I need your cock each week just as bad. Maybe from now on you'll give me your cock wherever I want it, instead of just to Lynn? Follow me."

As I stepped out of my pants and boxers, Di led me by the hand to her bed, on the other side of the room where I had fucked her roommate in Lynn's bed dozens of times in recent months.

Dianne lay down on her back, her huge tits spreading out in different directions, the chemise now ulled down to her navel, exposing her curvy tummy. Pulling me so I was kneeling over her, my twitching cock over her mouth. She was stroking my shaft with one hand now while fondling my balls with the other.

"You like my beautiful face, too, right? Not just my tits?" Nod.

"You like the look of your cock in my mouth, right?"

What was that, a trick question? "Mm-hmmm," was about as eloquent as I could manage at this point.

"Do you think I could look even more pretty, even more sexy, with your cum all over me, all over my face, my tits?"

"Oh, fuck yes," is all I could say as Dianne's pace became more rapid as she stroked my cock, oozing pre-cum now. But I somehow pulled away from her mouth and hands and moved down, surrounding my shaft with her soft yet impossibly firm twenty-year-old breasts.

I'd never touched her gorgeous tits before, just like every other man on campus, if you don't count millions of dreams. I pushed them together around my engorged cock while going over her erect nipples with my thumbs. "Mmmm, that's sooooooo nice," Di murmured. "But you better come where I want you to come."

Dianne leaned down and took my cock in her wet mouth to provide some natural lubrication before she returned to titty-fucking me. I was already getting close and she knew it.

She grabbed my shaft in her hand and pulled it toward her mouth. Opening her mouth, but not sucking my cock, she continued to stroke it, moving her hand up and down my shaft, but also moving the shaft in a circle so the head of my cock ever so slowly traced her lips, her tongue flicking over the head. That was all it took.

"Look out, Di, here it comes." I cried, initiating myself into the Greek fraternity, Summa Cum Loudly.

"Come on baby, come all over me. Make my face even prettier. Make me picture perfect," Dianne cried as I unleashed loads of cum, even more than I shared with her roommate the night before, all the while fantasizing about exactly what was occurring at the moment. I was panting and she continued to stroke before finally taking my shaft in her mouth and sucking me clean.

She looked up at me, her model-pretty face and world-class porn-star tits covered in my massive load of hot cum. "Well, how pretty am I now?"

Long, thick strands of my sticky ejaculate covered most of left side of her face, her chin, and her lips, dripping in small streams onto her shiny globes.

"You're absolutely gorgeous. You look great with my dick in your mouth. But you look even hotter with my cum on your face," I replied, and I eased himself down and kissed her on the lips, my tongue entering her cum-filled mouth. Then I whispered in her ear, "But I think that gift was a bit too one-sided. I owe you something in return, you brainiac. An anatomy lesson."

With that I moved down the bed, kissing and sucking Dianne's spectacular breasts until she was moaning and writhing in ecstasy, thrashing about, pulling on the nub that I wasn't suckling on kneading. I wanted so desperately to prolong the pleasure for both of us, but ultimately, I knew where I was most needed. I lifted the chemise over her hips and slid her saturated thong down over her butt, down past her knees and calves, and over her feet before throwing them aside.

I moved back up, slowly, teasingly, kissing her calves and the inside of her thighs, then I paused, my face hovering just above her pussy, and inhaled deeply, savoring the smells coming from her wet pussy before moving my face down toward the eventual target, her well-trimmed garden area.

"I've dreamt about your mouth on me for so long, John, and...oooh......" Dianne groaned, though the end of her sentence was unclear as I had landed my flickering tongue right on the tip of her clit. I knew she was super hot by how wet she was, and I wanted to fuck her silly, so I planned to waste no time making her come. The teasing could come another day. I'd already calculated that this would not be our final time, this was not going to be a one-and-done.

I moved my tongue all around her clit as fast as I could. While fondling her large heaving breasts with one hand, I let two fingers slide into her pussy, curling upwards to find that soft, mushy button of a g-spot. Dianne could only take so much of this so I slowly removed my fingers from her and traced her crack, lifting her butt off the bed. I slid another finger slowly from her back, down her crack, tracing over her sensitive asshole, until the finger slid easily back into Dianne's sopping, flaming pussy, now just one finger rubbing her g-spot in a circular motion.

"Oh, my fucking God, that feels great," Dianne panted. I'd reduced the hottest, smartest woman in Business School to a quivering mass of puddling goo, spouting vulgarities. "But, unggh, be careful, John, uhngghhh, ooooh, Christ. I feel like I'm going to explode with you rubbing there."

I knew exactly what that meant -- that I was doing it right. I pulled away from her pussy and moved up, kissed her on the lips, then whispered in her ear, "You are going to explode, Di, you hot piece of ass. I control you now." She groaned loudly at my dirty talk. "So, just relax, really relax. Let it happen. You're going to have a g-spot orgasm. Ever heard of female ejaculation? Just relax and let it happen..."