Greetings from Sandra No. 03

Hey, gals and guys,

This is the third of four messages I've selected from the bunch I wrote when I went off to college that I'm submitting for publication here. If you like this one, look for the fourth one in about two weeks. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. And living them.

Hugs and kisses,

Sandra

Dear Loving Family (and that future Ivy Leaguer, Mr. Chip!),

I hope my text messages and that nice video chat we had on my birthday -- thanks for the money, Mom and Dad -- make up for my lack of detailed reporting on my activities of late. I'll try to atone today, now that I have some time to reflect.

The most exciting news, of course, has been Chip's early acceptance notifications. Don't tell him, but I knew he could do it. I think he's going to be fucking brilliant at whatever he ends up doing. Now, all he has to do is decided whether he wants to matriculate to the Granite, Bay, Garden or Keystone state.

I wish the young gentleman could spare time away from his studies, sports, clubs and nubile playmates to visit his big sister and get a taste of campus life. He's going to love it -- it's exhilarating and illuminating.

In that regard, I can report that my mid-term evaluations all went very well. I'm given high marks for always being prepared, contributing to class discussions and producing well written, researched and organized papers.

I think I've even convinced my Modern American Novel instructor that how we feel about a book, its characters and plot, is more important than dissecting its structure or extrapolating more meaning from it than the author might have intended. When someone asserts that "what this book is really about is ...," I tune out the rest of the sentence immediately. You didn't write it, so you can't know.

And endings. I hate it when authors go on and on and on about how then this happened and then that happened and then they all lived happily ever after. Or got very old and died. Pick a spot. End it. It can be done:

 John le Carre in "A Delicate Truth" -- "The sirens multiplied and acquired a more emphatic, bullying tone. At least they seemed to be approaching from one direction only. But as the chorus grew to a howl, and the car brakes screamed in the street outside, Toby couldn't be certain any more -- nobody could be certain, even Emily -- which direction they were coming from."

 Harper Lee in "To Kill Mockingbird" -- "He turned out the light and went into Jem's room. He would be there all night, and he would be there when Jem waked up in the morning."

What happened then? Take a guess. Use your imagination. Wander around in the magical world of unlimited possibilities.

It can even be done on the big and small screens. "The Graduate" ends with Dustin Hoffman and Katharine Ross in the back seat of a moving bus, having just escaped from her aborted wedding. The final episode of "The West Wing" ends with Martin Sheen telling Stockard Channing what he's thinking about as they fly out of Washington -- "Tomorrow."

We didn't need another episode to tell us that Josiah Bartlett became the most popular professor at the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard, that he wrote a blockbuster series of murder mysteries packed with graphic violence and explicit sex, that he became a research scientist and found a cure for the common cold, that he moved to a ranch in Australia and raised alpacas, that he organized a group of cold case investigators who discovered where Jimmy Hoffa is buried.

I rant. I rave. Moving along ...

I'm particularly pleased with my Gilded Age history course, as you might have guessed. Yes, Dr. Hunter and I have been getting it on fairly regularly, but that's just a highly enjoyable sidebar to the insight I'm gaining from him and my classmates. We have extremely lively and thought-provoking discussions about robber barons, labor unions, financiers, trusts, the wealth gap and the politicians who enabled or railed against it all. I feel rejuvenated after every session.

DR. HUNTER HAS taught me a thing or two outside the classroom too, of course. To wit:

Rather than scheduling another rip-roaring office consultation, the good professor invited me to his house for dinner last Wednesday. That's usually a study night, but this was a big step forward in our relationship, so I didn't consider declining. Plus I wanted to see where and how he lived.

It's in an attractive, 1950s or '60s, two-story house a few blocks from campus. The first floor has a large living room with fireplace; dining room with table to seat a dozen; kitchen with six-burner gas range, double oven, extra-wide refrigerator with French doors up and a slide-out freezer below; comfortable study with large windows, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and another fireplace, and a half bath. The upstairs has three good-size bedrooms, one of which also serves as a study, and a full bath with shower stall and spa tub.

Why the second study? Dr. Jack Hunter, historian extraordinaire and dreamboat of the college campus, lives with (drum roll) ... another man.

His name is James. He owns a high-end (i.e., extremely expensive) custom-made furniture shop. He supplied all the furniture in their house, and it's stupendous. I can't begin to describe how lovely the pieces are. I'll have to sneak some pictures on a future visit to send to you. You'll agree. He's also the impetus for the fancy-pants kitchen -- he's an extraordinary cook.

We had a lovely meal seasoned with stimulating conversation. And lots of laughs. Jack -- I have to get used to calling him that outside the classroom -- is a delightful companion. James is a freakin' riot. He has more dirty jokes than you can shake a stiff dick at. I guffawed loud and long. Not very lady like, but then I've never staked a claim to ladyhood.

They wouldn't let me help clear the table and clean up the kitchen afterward, so I sat at the breakfast bar and sipped from a glass of wine while they worked in practiced harmony. They clearly are some sort of couple, but given my short history of hot sex with Jack, I couldn't yet determine the extent of their relationship.

That became more clear when we adjourned to the couch in the living room. They sat on either side of me. Jack draped his arm around my shoulders. We continued the conversation we were having in the kitchen -- they both take their minds off work by reading mystery novels and singing loudly along with Broadway musical soundtracks. Then Jack got to the heart of the matter.

"You're a lovely, intelligent, fun young lady to be around," he said. I didn't argue. "I've told James all about you. And about us. Which led us to wonder if, uh, well, if you'd care to engage in a threesome with us."

I tried to look like I was shocked by the mere suggestion. I don't imagine I succeeded.

"Let me get this straight, professor," I said, sternly but with a smile I couldn't contain. "You're asking me if I will have sex with two handsome, smart, talented, solidly built men, either one of whom any woman on Planet Earth would be lucky to have in her bed. And you actually think there's a remote possibility that I would say 'no'?"

Jack leaned over and kissed the top of my head. He stood up, held my hand and assisted me to my feet. James led the way up the stairs. In Jack's bedroom, they worked in unison to rid me of my clothes. I had dressed somewhat conservatively -- a nice white blouse, that plaid, preppy-style skirt you bought for me Mom -- You said I'd look "cute" in it; I do -- and a bra and panties. Donning the latter two items is what I've come to term dressing formally.

James fondled and kissed my tits, sucked my hard nipples. Jack caressed and nibbled my ass, my sensitive inner thighs. He grazed his fingers over my pussy lips, lightly touched my twitching clit. I shivered. I tingled all over. They increased their ravishing of my body. James ran his fingers down my belly and into my dripping cunt.

I desperately wanted to have them naked. I wanted their cocks and balls in my hands. But also didn't want them to stop long enough to discard their clothes. As a wise man I know has said, "The best clothes are those that come off quickly." Words to dress by from that father of mine. (Love ya', Daddy.)

Thankfully, they took turns. James stripped while Jack wrapped his arms around me from behind. He pressed his hard cock to my back and cupped my tits in his hands.

I grabbed James's stiff cock as soon as he brought it near me. He held my shoulders and kissed me hard on the mouth. I slid my tongue between his lips. Jack hurriedly disrobed. He picked me up and laid me on my back on his king-size bed. James crouched at my side, kissing my lips, my neck, my tits. Jack crawled between my legs and nibbled up my thighs to my pussy. His tongue in my snatch ignited fireworks in my pelvis. I shook with my first orgasm of the night.

They traded places. Jack lay down beside me so that I could suck his cock. I turned on my side. James lifted my right leg over his head and pressed his lips to my pussy. Jack wiggled around. I glanced down and saw him take James's cock into his mouth.

To recap at this point: I was lying naked on my side on my history professor's bed. I had his cock in my mouth. He had another man's cock in his mouth. That other man was eating my cunt. With unbridled enthusiasm. Chip, the learning experience in college extends way beyond the classroom.

I have seldom been as sexually charged as I was at that moment. I couldn't see well but dared not close my eyes. The thrill of sucking a cock and being licked to delirium at the same time is indescribable. The first time watching man sucking man sent me over the edge for a second time. James eagerly slurped up my juices.

When my orgasm subsided, James turned me onto my back. He placed a pillow under my ass, held his dick at the entrance to my snatch and slowly, slowly eased into me. To borrow one of their Broadway tunes, the sensation was like Michael Crawford as the Phantom soaring to "Let your soul take you where you long to beeeeeeeeeee!" Rapture. Double that when Jack slipped his cock back into my mouth.

The men knew what they were about. They undoubtedly sought their own satisfaction, but first they made sure that I achieved mine, as if my two orgasms so far had not been enough. I flew over mountains, swooped down into valleys, glided feet above clear, gurgling streams. I heard symphonies, rock operas, bluegrass jamborees. Mighty explosions, whispers of love.

I heard James grunt loudly. He leaned forward, braced on his fists. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him smiling fondly down on me. He mouthed a "thank you." I felt his dick explode in my cunt, blasting streams of cum into me. Spurt after spurt making me writhe with him in jubilation. When his balls were drained, he pulled out. Jack hustled around to take his place. He drilled me hard and fast. I could see the desperation in his face.

"Fuck me, Jack. Fuck me for all you're worth." Could I have wanted it even more than he did? Could be. Well within the realm of possibility. Probably so.

He pounded into me. James held my shoulders to help me brace for impact. Jack rose up, shuddered mightily and graced me with another load of jism. I nearly fainted. Was that orgasm three or four?

I lay on the bed with a marvelous man on each side of me. Dripping sweat. Still breathing heavily. They tenderly caressed my tits, belly and thighs. Teased my pussy as our combined juices oozed onto their fingers and to the sheet below us.

They were only "sort of bisexual," Jack tried to explain. "We like women far more than we like each other, though we like each other a lot. Which surprised us at first. Neither of us had ever had a gay lover before, and we're exclusive in that sense -- just us, no other dicks allowed. Or desired."

"Women, though," James added. "Especially a woman as desirable as you, Sandy. You drive us to distraction. Jack pointed you out to me on campus one day. He told me what a great, well, let's be honest, what a great fuck you are, and I begged him to invite you over. I had to have you. Not possess you. I'm not like that. Have you, like have the joy of being in your presence."

I kissed him, then Jack. "I'm honored, privileged to be in bed with you two. To have your arms around me, your hands pleasing me. Your marvelous cocks, your sticky cum inside me. To pick your brains. To hear you laugh. Sing. I've had a happy life so far. No more so, though, than right now, this very moment with you."

Jack kissed me gently on the mouth. James rose and swung a leg over my torso. He placed his semi-hard cock between my tits and squeezed them together. He slid back and forth between them. His dick is the bigger of the two, and they're both larger than what I've been told is average. While James fucked my tits, Jack squatted next to my head. I pulled his cock down to my face and spread the precum on its tip over my cheek and lips.

I kept hold of Jack's dick with one hand and used my other to coax James up toward my head. He leaned over so that I could take his shaft into my mouth. I jerked Jack's cock faster and faster as James now fucked my face. I kept my hand an inch or so above my nose, like the guard at the end of a rollercoaster, to keep Jack's rod from penetrating too deeply in my throat. (Still got some work to do there, Mom.)

Jack took it easy, not wanting to bang my throat as hard as he had drilled into my pussy. I worked my tongue along and around his shaft, tightened my lips around his glans when he rose before diving down again. I felt the familiar male shake and prepared to hungrily swallow another giant load of cum. God, do I love that taste.

He rolled over on his back, spent. I turned on my slide and tugged Jack's dick into my mouth in his place. One serving was not enough for me this night. Sucking a cock in that position is awkward, but I was determined. Jack responded by rocking back and forth. James aided from behind me, running his hands over my back and ass, making my skin tingle all over. Giving me added energy to vacuum Jack's semen into my mouth. He hissed, "Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," when he came.

IN MY LAST message, I sort of promised to relate to you the events of the previous Friday, when I took Penny to the frat house to introduce her to my buddies there. No need now. Jack the frat bro, not the professor Jack, chased me down on campus and asked if Penny and I would attend a small party they were having at the cottage this past Friday. I said I couldn't speak for Penny, but I knew we had no plans other than to do something together, so we'd be there unless he heard otherwise.

When I asked Penny, she quickly agreed to go. "The last time we went over there, my vag vibrated for three days. So, yes, of course I want to go again."

There was, naturally, no question what kind of party it would be. I wore my favorite T-shirt and miniskirt without bra or panties. Penny donned only a quickly removable shift. We slipped out of our sandals at the cottage door. We greeted Jack, Carl, Ben and Willy with hugs and kisses. They squeezed our asses.

Carl introduced us to the other guests. Sean and his girlfriend, Doris. Malcolm and his twin sister, Eleanor.

Let me take a minute to finally introduce you to these friends, something I should have done weeks ago. Carl and Jack are juniors, as I've said before. Carl is studying political science in anticipation of law school. Jack is an economics major, planning to move on for an MBA and the fucking Fortune 500. Ben and Willy are seniors. Ben is an offensive tackle on the football team, a phys ed major and president of their fraternity. Willy is a drama major in rehearsals for the Christmas pageant and with a quick-or-you'll-miss-it credit as a minor character in a feature-length horror film you've never heard of. But Chip might have. The degenerate.

Sean, we learned, is a fraternity brother too but lives off campus with Doris. He is a junior majoring in journalism and is assistant city editor of the student newspaper this semester. Doris shares my interest in literature. The twins are sophomores. Malcolm lines up across from Ben at football practices as a defensive end. He is in that amorphous "general studies" program. Eleanor is a hurdler on the track team, made the dean's list her first two semesters while in the difficult pre-med program and is an officer in the Black Student Union. They were named after two of their mother's heroes -- Malcolm X and Eleanor Roosevelt.

The whole group was attractive, but I have to concede that Eleanor was the pick of the litter. Her light brown skin is luminous. Her eyes are bright, her smile a graceful arc on a gorgeous face. Her body is lean, built for speed and agility, her legs long and powerful, her ass full, her waist crimped and her breasts small but firm. She stirred the newly discovered lesbian within me.

And her brother is no slouch. A mountain of a man, but graceful on his feet and in his demeanor. His T-shirt strained to contain his expansive chest and bulging biceps. His belly is tight, his hips narrow. I suppressed a smiled when I thought to call him Mr. Clean.

Carl handed us bottles of beer. Penny and I sat on the floor, cross-legged, not concerned that our skirt and shift rode up are thighs, exposing our bare crotches. Oh, and more about them. You know that I am bucking the trend, giving the finger to conformity by letting my bush grow wild and free. Penny shaves around her cunt and trims her upper pubes into a neat triangle. It's like running your hand, or, even more fun, your face, over a fur coat.

I caught Eleanor studying my cooch. I winked at her. She smiled back. "Nice," she mouthed.

It didn't take long for clothes to go flying around the cottage. Doris, who I learned by then was a huge fan of Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters, surprised me by challenging us to a cock-sucking contest.

"We'll take the biggest of the six cocks and see which of us sluts can get the most in her mouth."

"She loves to do this," Sean said with a chuckle. "So hedge your bets, ladies and gentlemen, my lady here has a very deep throat."

Penny rose to the challenge. She peeled her shift over her head. "Bring it on, bitch," she said, standing in front of Doris with her fists on her hips. "I accept your challenge."

Doris removed her blouse and bra. She has nice tits, somewhat bigger than mine and shaped tantalizing like a ski jump. She wiggled out of her shorts and panties. She is shaved bare, showcasing her camel toe pussy lips. Eleanor wore a T-shirt without a bra and gym shorts without panties. I smiled at her as I hastened out of my shirt and skirt while admiring her hairy crotch.

Now, if you're thinking that Malcolm had the biggest cock, then you're just a slave to stereotypes. Having frolicked at the frat several times already, my money was on a particular bro. It was drama student Willy -- how appropriate is that? -- and by a country mile. If Willy can't make it in "legitimate" theater or films, he can look forward to a lucrative career in porn. Carl produced a ruler. We took turns fluffing Willy's willy hard -- sorry, I couldn't resist that. It didn't take long. The sight of four hot, naked women had all six dicks stiff in no time.

We measured his dick at seven and a quarter inches. How big is that? Go to the grocery store. Take a tape measure. Find a banana that's seven and a quarter inches long. Hold it in front of you like it's your dick. It's fucking huge. (For the record, Malcolm was second at just a cunt hair over six inches.)

Penny insisted on going first. She worked her way up to her best effort, slowly taking more and more of Willy's long, thick shaft into her mouth. She noticeably relaxed her throat muscles. We could see the outline of the tip of his cock as she welcomed it into her throat. I held my finger at the point where Willy's shaft stuck out from Penny's mouth. She pulled away. We measured. She had swallowed an impressive six and three-eighths inches.