Her Projects

HER PROJECTS

Everyone in this story is over eighteen and of a sound mind, although highly sexually motivated.

I am a college senior at UCLA, work in a bookstore on campus, and have my own apartment in Venice Beach. I drive a Ford F250 Heavy Duty pickup with a camper shell and I play basketball on the college team, but sex is my favorite sport. My name is Claire Watson, and I am twenty-eight. I am horny as hell, as are most of my friends. I have this project I am working on and I am determined to get what I want.

The project involves four guys I have set my sights on, and I will be a very frustrated young horny chick if I fail. There is the guy I have been out with on two occasions, but we have not been to bed yet. Yeah, I know, what's keeping me. He is my first project. There is also the brother of my best friend--who I am extremely attracted to, and he is project number two. He is Justin. Then there is David, who has shown absolutely no interest in me, but who is gorgeous, and it is driving me crazy that he doesn't even know I exist. He is in two of my classes, and hasn't noticed me yet.

Then there is Ronald, who has just asked me to go for coffee. I know it isn't just coffee he wants, and he is handsome, confident, and rich. He drives a Corvette, for God's sake. None of the others are rich, but they are all four insanely attractive, three of them interested in me, and, I expect, good in bed. Yes, I am what some may call a 'sexually active' skank, and very interested in prurient concerns. I have set my sights on all four of these guys.

I am single, horny, attractive, and available. I am a truly liberated woman. My goal is to bed them all. That is a formidable task, I know, but I have a reputation as a skank to uphold. I just don't want to ruin my image by over doing it and biting off more than I can chew and end up choking myself.

First, David is killing me, because he seems oblivious to my feminine charms, which frustrates the hell out of me. I don't think he has even noticed me. Ronald, the rich guy, is my next mission, since who cares how good he is in bed if that bed happens to be in Beverly Hills.

Justin is the brother of my best friend, Amanda, and I probably have the best chance with him, since I am around her so much and he follows me around like a puppy in heat. The person I have been out with, I have not slept with yet, but he is also in my sights. That is Julian. He is a really nice guy, and I don't want to let him escape my charms, but I am also horny for these other guys and it's got me freaking out.

My third date with Julian was to a movie--Bob, Carol, Ted, and Alice. Yeah an old one. I thought the subject might help move him toward the bedroom. We made out in the movie and he got his hand under my dress, and when we left the theater I had high hopes. However, a call from his sister about a family tragedy threw water on my plans and he left me alone at my apartment. This is getting frustrating.

My next attempt to fulfill my project was going for coffee with Ronald, the rich man with pale blue eyes and big hands. Yeah, the hands had me hopeful. We went to a Starbucks and got supersized Cappuccinos and sat in the back. I was doing real well, with his hand on my knee, slipping up my thigh toward my wet panties, when he started to cough and go into fits of gagging and holding his chest.

The ambulance took him away and they left me in the parking lot of the coffee castle frustrated and horny and watching the paramedics pull away. He hasn't called back yet, but I am hopeful. I still don't know what the problem was, but it was frightening.

Justin was my next try as he was hanging around Amanda's place and offered to drive me home. His big brown eyes focussed on my tits and I knew the night was looking good for romance. What I didn't know was that Amanda had threatened him with bodily harm if he took "advantage" of her good friend by trying anything the least bit sexual. He left me at my door, frustrated and unhappy, determined to kill my old friend Amanda.

I ran into David at a frat party and did my best to let him see more of me than my dress was designed for. We chatted, sat drinking, and I just knew he was not going to be able to resist my feminine wiles. Twenty minutes into my attempts at seduction had gone unheeded and I was about to scream. What was wrong this guy? Did he not have testicles? Were they not producing loads of testosterone that got his penis hard in the presence of a willing vagina?

It seems that David got so close to me personally, that he found it a great time to come out to the world. If there was one thing I didn't want to hear right then was that beautiful young, sexy David was gay. Four down and none to go. My project had been a bust. I had struck out with all four. It was beginning to get to me and affecting my personal self concept. For a young woman who has convinced herself she is hot, this is a real blow to her confidence.

Maybe I needed to widen the circle. Perhaps my list needed expanding. I began looking for candidates and was having no luck when I went to basketball practice and the men's team was just leaving the court. That is when I saw Marcus coming onto the floor. He was six foot six of luscious manhood and had feet as large as swim fins. A good sign, a very good sign.

I watched him warm up for awhile and I got exceedingly interested in making his acquaintance. What does a young horny woman have to do these days to get the attention of a virile young basketball player? I could strip naked in the middle of center court on John and Nell Wooden basketball Arena. Or I could come right out and ask him if he was interested in copulating with a classmate at the University of California at Los Angeles. I decided on a less obvious approach to getting his attention and began to think of ways to approach the problem.

Marcus seemed to not notice the women taking the court as he was picking up his sweats and preparing to leave the stadium. I "accidentally" kicked the ball in his direction and went to retrieve it. We didn't speak, but I did see his eyes linger as I picked up the ball and nodded, like teammates do, in his direction.

Well, contact made, I thought. I made sure to be around after their next practice and sat in my car in the parking lot like I was studying. The book in my lap was open, but it was not keeping my attention. When the team started coming out of the locker room, I got out of my car and headed for the door. I had timed it well and Marcus was coming out at just the right time.

How sexy can I be in basketball shorts and a sweatshirt? Not very, I realized, when he went by me without even a second glance. It took two more attempts before we actually had a conversation, and that lasted all of 90 seconds between the two practices. It took two grueling weeks before a "chance" meeting at the local Starbucks gave me more of an opportunity to renew the conversation.

He came in, saw me sitting by myself, and came over. I introduced myself and avoided sounding like an adoring fan and tried for meaningless chatting. I told him I was on the women's team and he surprised me by saying, "I know you're Claire Watson and play forward on the women's team." I was shocked, but very pleased.

We exchanged meaningless bits of information about UCLA basketball and made it through an awkward moment or two until things smoothed out with some mutual laughter and a few stale jokes about campus life. He asked if "I came there often" and I said only when I am trying to avoid studying. We both chuckled at my stale joke and the awkwardness seemed to ease.

Marcus then asked me if I would like to avoid studying with him some day after school. I was hoping he couldn't see how excited I was, and nodded and shrugged as if I had nothing better to do. "Sure," I said. My projects had morphed from four down to one and it seemed to be moving on schedule, finally.

Marcus picked me up in a Honda Civic that had seen better days, many better days. He came to my apartment door, looking embarrassed by his ride and by my Ford F250 parked in my driveway. He also seemed fascinated by the canal in front of my house. "Great place," he said.

"Yeah," I said. "You get used to the smell. It's better when the tide is high," I added.

He yanked on the door of his Honda, finally opening it on the third try, and I climbed in and was careful not to move the towel placed over the deteriorated seat cover. We went to an Outback and got a table in the front. We found we both were big John Wooden fans and chatted about basketball, UCLA, and the national politics. Thank God we were both democrats and the conversation got easier as the night went on.

When desert was over, the bill paid, and the clumsy 'What Should We Do Now' was approaching, I suggested we go back to my place "for coffee."

"I don't do coffee," he said.

"I actually wasn't thinking coffee," I admitted. "I was actually thinking of something more physically oriented," I said. "Maybe even erotic, like sex," I added with a sly smile. He looked shaken.

"I have never had a woman be so honest," he said.

"If there is one thing I am," I said, "it's to the point. You are my project," I admitted. He looked at me just a bit confused, like a deer in the headlights. "What, you don't like women who like sex?"

"It is a man's dream," he said with a smile. "I'd love some coffee," he said with a grin.

We got back to my place just as the ducks were grouping up in front of my house. They flew as we got out of his car, after three attempts of opening my door. Just for effect, I put on some water and stepped over to his chair and stood naked over his lap. I reached down and undid his fly.

"Are you this aggressive on the court?" he asked.

"Naw, I am a pussy cat on the floor," I said.

When he flopped out of his shorts, I sat down on him and wiggled my butt until he was securely in. He had been taken back when I undressed as soon as he sat down. I stood au naturel over his lap, before lowering myself down on his erection, which was not at all timid about rising to the occasion.

While Marcus sat on the chair in my kitchen, his pants open but on, I fucked him like sailor on leave, bouncing over him and forcing him deep into me. I am not sure he'd ever been fucked in a kitchen before, but the look on his face told me he was enjoying himself thoroughly. When I came I think it frightened him, and I was afraid I had gone and caused a heart attack. He recovered, and just sat smiling with me on his lap breathing hard.

After the kitchen episode, we adjourned to the bedroom and broke in my bed, giving it a thorough workout. Marcus may have been a bit surprised by my kitchen fucking scene, but he adjusted well and gave the bed a UCLA basketball type aerobics engagement that will go down in the history of great fucks, especially in old Venice, California.

My house is old enough to have seen a lot of fucking, but I am sure we did it proud. Marcus has been there a number of times now, and I have readjusted my project to leave David, Ronald, Justin, and Julian to other ladies, although Justin still follows me around like a puppy dog, but his sister's warning to save my young cherry has put the fear of God in him.

Marcus made first team, for the school and in my bed. My project was not a total waste, and I chalked it up to experience and let other girls and guys fill in for me. David is on another team, and I am sure he is first team on that one. Amanda watches out for me, like a big sister, although I don't feel I need her protection, but I realize her little brother is now sadly out of the picture and she only does it because she thinks she is doing me a favor. If she only knew the thoughts I had about her brother, she would lock her doors and keep me out of her house forever. Ignorance is bliss, I guess.