Homecoming, Back to College

Homecoming, Lily Goes Back to College

No part of this work may be reproduced for distribution by any means physical, mechanical or electronic without the express written permission of the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction intended for adult consumption only. All characters and locations are fictional or used fictitiously and are over 18 years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Copyright Kelly Lovall, July 2020.

I hope you enjoy this story. All comments welcome. Thanks.

XX, Kelly

***

Chapter One

Lily tipped her head back letting Eric's half-hard prick fall from her mouth. Her elegant, sinewy hand continued to stroke it.

"Do you want to go to homecoming?" She said, slurping him back in, taking her lips to the root of his cock.

A muffled laugh came from between her thighs. "Right now?" He said, pulling his face away from the dark, wet petals of her labia. "Jesus, Lil."

She shifted her hips, pushing her muff back onto his mouth. Her hips began to gyrate, fucking his face.

Chapter Two

Eric walked through the French door from their house into the warm night air, his feet bare against the smooth, dry deck boards. A glass of whisky dangled between his fingers. "So, homecoming, huh?" Eric said.

Lily sipped from a glass of dark red wine and sucked guiltily on a cigarette she'd plucked from an aging pack she kept in a kitchen drawer with unused trivets, lighters, matches and sundry household flotsam.

"Fun right? It's been years since I've gone and, I don't know, we'd have fun." She said.

He smelled the cigarette before he saw it. She held it under the patio table between her thumb and forefinger while she rubbed a finger against the glowing screen of her phone. The smell was repellant on its own but intoxicating on her breath, her tongue in his mouth.

She looked up as he sat down across from her, the warm light from a little, plastic LED candle outlined her face bringing into relief the scalloped fullness of her lips, hovering above a perfect, ovoid chin. She was pert, cute, almost beautiful. She seemed to be one of those women who were perpetually sexy. Her big brown eyes were almost perfectly round, so symmetrically placed they erased any other trace of imperfection from her face like the one nostril that was slightly larger than the other, the slight ski-jump at the tip of her nose or the one ear that was slightly higher than the other. And, of course, the tiny gap between her top incisors.

She had pointed out these imperfections and others to him. She had examined her body meticulously over the years. She had been obsessed over her imperfections when they'd met but she'd mellowed over the years. Curse of a gymnast perhaps.

She smiled at him. The corners of her mouth pushed her cheeks up with a force that created crows feet around her eyes and dimples so geometrically inviting Eric always imagined filling them with the tips of his pinkies when they appeared.

"I don't know Lil, homecoming sounds like a 'you" thing not really a 'we' thing. I wouldn't know anyone." He said.

"C'mon Eek (her pet name for him), it'd be fun. I could show you all the old haunts I've been talking about for years, I could show off my distinguished and devastatingly handsome husband," she giggled, "plus I love football games in an outdoor stadium." She said.

By distinguished she meant older. Eric was almost fifteen years older, in his forties. More and more he felt it. Was he handsome? In a way. The way mid-century furniture is handsome; simple and elegant, symmetrical, durable, almost never out of place. And the closer you get, the more you appreciate it, the longer you sit in it, the better it feels. He was taller than average, trim and what he lacked in physical attributes he made up for with money - a fact that wasn't lost on him.

"When was the last time you went?" He said.

She looked up, unfolding fingers as she counted. Her hands were strong and sensuously formed, revealing the muscle and sinew moving beneath the silky skin. Her fingers were strong and graceful, shaped by years of gripping and pushing against gymnastics equipment, the knuckles prominent with firm, pillowed pads under the painted tips.

She grimaced. "Ten years. Is it sad if I go back?"

"A little, maybe." He said. "What brought this on?"

"I got a thing in the mail from the ISU Alumni Association and I've been seeing things in my feed and just remembered how much fun it used to be. I got all nostalgic I guess." She said.

She got up and went to the railing of the deck, took a final drag off the cigarette and flicked the glowing tip off into the grass below. Eric watched her calves flex as she went up on the balls of her statuesque feet leaning over the rail. Her favorite, threadbare post-coital t-shirt stretched over her buttocks and rode up to show the bottoms of each globe. Her skin was smooth and dusky. His cock stirred. He sipped his whisky. She set the cigarette butt upright on the metal railing.

She turned to him. "If it's still standing the morning..."

"I know." He said. "It's the last one ever." He recited the phrase she always used when she smoked. The butts never made it through the night.

She giggled.

She sat again, her unsprung tits jiggled loosely under the thin fabric, her little nipples shown hard. She took a long draft of wine, set the glass down and leaned back in her chair. She arched, stretching her elbows back and running her fingers into her long dark hair. God, what a tight little package, he thought.

His cock twitched, beginning to fill. Somewhere in his brain a familiar circuit engaged automatically, one that had faithfully fired for most of his adult life. A tableau like he was seeing now, the shape and proportion of a beautiful arm or leg as it met a shoulder or buttocks and moved through space with a certain sensual presence, would stick to him. His image processor. His brain would seize it, evaluate it, judge it to be desirable then a quick calculation would happen. Inevitably the output would tell him he was out of range, not matched, 'punching above his weight' as his father had warned him in congratulatory tones.

Then the movie would play.

A scene flipped through his mind of her getting drunk at a tailgate party - he knew she could get wild and loud in the right environment - kissing frat boys and flashing her tits. Maybe more. Always more. His cock twitched and grew at the thoughts. His secret fantasy. His secret defense mechanism. His mind somehow turned jealously into desire. It's just how it worked.

She relaxed. "Sad then, huh?" She reached for her wine. "I don't want to be sad." She said, sipping through pouting lips.

"I don't know." He said, thoughtfully. "It could be fun. We could road trip, we could get there in a day of driving. We could camp, tail-gate, show the kids how it's done." He said. "You're an alum, gymnastics alum. You were a big deal right, All-American? There's nothing wrong with going back for a little taste of the glory days."

"Tons of people are talking about going. I guess the team is ranked this year." She said.

"How much are they asking for?" He said.

"Camping?" She said. "Can't we stay someplace nice?"

"How much do they want?" He said.

"It's not bad. You get decent seats, tickets for concessions and um ... well that's it, I guess." She said.

He asked again with only raised eyebrows.

"It's just a suggestion." She smiled innocently. "Five thousand." She said. Her eyebrows shot up and she bit the side of her lower lip.

"Jesus Christ." He said. "That's a bold suggestion. I'm sure we can get by with a slightly less generous offer considering they've been recruiting off your name for years."

"But you really want to go?" She said, her big, brilliant teeth flashing. She came around the table and straddled him, her arms on his shoulders, her lips pecking his cheeks.

"Absolutely. It'll be fun to watch you turn all those college guys in circles trying to get a second look at you." He said.

The movie started again. Urgent fumbling fingers pulling at her clothes, pinching and pulling and squeezing under urgent grunts and moans before serious, frozen faces, muscles tense and the primal, unstoppable contractions of breeding and bliss. Reassuring eyes and lips and tongues exchanging desire melting into gratitude and love and judgement and resolve. Young egos, courage leavened, doubts ebbing.

She squealed and pushed her lips against his.

"What's this?" She said, pushing her hand between her legs and into the slit of his boxers. Her powerful, slender fingers wrapped around his hard prick. Her eyes narrowed above a dirty smile. Her lips pressed against his again, mouths opened, tongues twirled into each other.

"Fuck me again." She breathed, grinding her strong little hips back and forth against him.

Her scent mixed with the wine and cigarettes and perfume and wrapped vertiginously around his head in a Lily Cloud that made him thicken impossibly. She owned him.

"Are you going to party if we go?" He said, in a low, husky voice. 'Party' was code for flirting with other guys and the closest he got to telling her what he really wanted.

"If you want me to." She said and nibbled his lip. "You wanna watch me party with a bunch of college guys?" She said, and slid her tongue into his mouth, her hips grinding over his hard cock.

"Uh-huh." He groaned.

"What do you want me to do?" She cooed between kisses.

"Everything." He said.

She stopped kissing him, her fist still slowly stroking. He looked into her eyes realizing it was out there, the request, the permission, the reaction. It was all hanging out there.

She was trying to control her breathing now. "What does that mean Eric? Everything?"

He stared into her, calculating. "It means..." He swallowed and leaned in to kiss her neck. She arched away, her fist firmly grasping and stroking. She squeezed.

"It means...everything." He said. "Anything you want Lil. Anything."

Her lips were on him again.

"Anything?" She said, biting his neck, squeezing his cock.

"Anything." He said, the movie playing on a loop now.

"God, you're so hard. I need that inside me now." Her lips and tongue threatened to eat him whole as her hips ground against him.

He stood, lifting her, laying her back on the patio table. Her fingers went to her pussy and began greedily rubbing her clit. He pushed his boxers down and stepped out of them as they hit the deck. He lifted her knees and pushed the head of his cock against the tight, hot entrance to her pussy. He spread his feet, bent his knees and flexed his hips, sliding fully into her. She arched against him, moaning, her fingers began strumming furiously against the swollen button of her clitoris.

Her wine glass crashed to the deck as his strokes became more powerful. He could feel her pussy lips grasping his shaft every time he withdrew. A buzz began to grow between his shoulder blades. He imagined a big, meaty dude-bro pounding his fat dick into her tight, gripping pussy as she came on him, her fingers digging into his ass, pulling him in.

Her hand was a blur over her mound as she worked her clit. "Almost, almost." She chirred. "Don't stop." Her eyes were closed, her face twisted into a rictus of determination and pleasure. An orgasm was growing in the base of her spine and slowly building into a heavy, throbbing knot.

His eyes closed and he tried to think of baseball or mortgage payments to forestall the eruption that was coming. An image appeared of dude-bro frozen in place, rigid with orgasm, his fat dick buried in her pussy, his come leaking out of her around his shaft. He imagined the look of ecstasy on Lily's face at that moment.

"That feels so good." She moaned. "Don't stop baby." She said.

His fingers dug into her hips and he drove into her as far as he could go. Gales of electric current washed down his shoulders and flanks as he began to come. He thrust haltingly as he shot into her. He held himself as deep as he could go as she continued to chase the rabbit of her release, her fingers working powerfully against her clit. His cock began to deflate. He slipped from her pussy.

"No, no, no." She said. "Lick me, please lick me. I'm so close." She begged as she continued her frantic masturbation.

He lifted the glass of whisky to his mouth and drained it then knelt between her legs. She put one foot on his shoulder as he held her other leg, spreading her open to him. He tilted his head and began to run his tongue up and down the length of her slit as she continued to rub desperately at her button.

She moaned. "Oh yes. Fuck yes." Her tummy crunched up and she placed the other hand behind his head and pulled his face to her. "Put your finger in me." She commanded.

He slid a finger into her and his watery load oozed out around it. His tongue lapped at her labia as his finger worked in and out of her.

A high guttural groan squealed from her open mouth as her abs flexed, lifting her head off the table and she spasmed strongly against his tongue. Her hands moved to her breasts, pulling at her nipples. He fucked his tongue into her until the contractions subsided. He began lightly tracing the contours of her sex with his tongue, kissing and licking. He kissed her swollen clitoris then sat back on his heals.

She sat up and looked at him smiling a goofy, contented smile.

"Oooof." She said.

He wiped their juices from his face and grinned.

"No camping." She said

"No camping." He said.

Chapter Three

The plaza in front of the hotel was sunstruck on an October afternoon and filled with a grey and crimson pool of temporary tribalists. Students and faculty, fans and alumni bubbled and shifted in their university colors.

The welter of humans and horns and drums and music carried on its shoulders the celebratory smells of autumn and roasting meat and beer and the sweet incense of young women evoking, for a day, an ancient village of fear and hope at the bone. College football.

Lily smiled at Eric, took his hand and waded in looking for her people. He watched the faces in the crowd for flickers of recognition. Lily had, after all, been a big deal here, or so he was told. Ten years ago. He was afraid there was no one to welcome her home. No one at the beer tents, or the food trucks or the face-painting stands. College is a fast-moving bend in the river.

They drank their beer and joined the throng flowing along the street toward the stadium. Her crotch brooded and bothered as she walked with an unresolved orgasm from their love-making earlier that morning. As she picked and bumped through the crowd, faint but familiar signals of a previous life, a life of being desired and exploring those desires as a student on the cusp, began to surge into her, growing with every smell, every sound, every fleeting glance of appraisal from vital young men all around her. Her head was swirling, she was getting wet.

Eric was right about the frat boys. Their section was lousy with them, loud and lecherous and sprinting in unison toward their first puke of the day. He should have donated more for better seats. But Lily seemed unbothered, rather, she seemed ready to bite and tussle and party.

"You're a hot little spinner." One of them slurred loudly and looked to his buddy for approval.

"Thank you." Lily said. "Come find me later and I'll snap your dick off." She said, smiling coyly.

"Oooohhh." They roared and laughed, receipt that she owned them.

"You're amazing." Eric said to her as they took their seats.

A tight, hot ball of desire began to throb in her perineum, spraying tingles into her thighs and up her back.

"This is so fun. I fucking love it." She said, rubbing his thigh, taking in the immensity of the stadium, the event.

Within minutes the same two frat boys stumbled over to them.

"Hey man, sorry about what I said about your girlfriend." He said to Eric. "You're just so fucking hot. Sorry, I mean you're a very attractive woman." He said to Lily - frat boy Number One.

"If you guys need anything or if anybody fucks with you just let us know. We'll take care of it." Said the other one - frat boy Number Two.

"Thank you for the apology boys. That's very nice." Said Lily. "Actually, do you know where the beer stand is?" She said, glancing at the crotch of Number One.

Eric followed her eyes and looked at the guy's crotch. He was standing with one foot on the seat in front of them. He was a tall, thick-bodied farm-boy type, blonde hair escaping from the hole is the snap-back hat that sat backward on his big head. He had a sizable proto-erection tenting his athletic shorts despite his inebriation.

"You guys want beer?" said Number Two. "We'll make sure you stay beered. We got guys running for us all day." Number One was staring at Lily, swaying slightly, his eyes had narrowed, his mouth open slightly. His buddy back-handed him in the shoulder.

The trance was broken and Number One said, "Oh. Hey, you guys want a hit?" And produced a vape pen from his shorts pocket. He offered it to Lily.

"Yeah, that's cool but I don't think..." Eric began.

"Sure." Lily said and took the pen. The boys grinned at each other with a good deed done. The picture of gracious hosts.

She took a hit and offered it to Eric who waved it off. She held her breath as she finished the beer she bought in the plaza in long, deep gulps then daintily pinched the corners of her mouth with her thumb and forefinger. She exhaled the vapor and burped.

The frat boys laughed, "Fuck yeah." Said Number Two. Lily giggled.

The sight of Number One fishing through his shorts for the pen, stretching the fabric of his shorts over his half-hard shaft brought a thudding heartbeat to the knot in her pelvis. She glanced again at the tented fabric, her eyes drawn to it.

"I just have to ask. Are you alum?" Number One said. "You look famous or something."

She handed the pen back with a coquettish smile. She was beaming inside.

"Not famous. Just alum." She said. "Okay, thank you boys. Now scoot. I'll call when I need you." She said and waved them away with a her most charming smile.

"Cool. Okay, you guys have fun. We'll be right back here." They said, and turned to stumble away.

Eric looked at her dumbly, grinning. He shook his head.

The image of Number One's fat white cock between her full, crimson painted lips flashed through his mind and his prick stirred as a squirt of adrenaline shot through his diaphragm waking him to the possibilities all around him.

"Adroit is the word you're looking for. It's a college word." She said. "This is my scene. These are my people."

He chuckled and kissed her face. It seemed she had come home after all.

"That pen tasted like his dick." She said.

"Gross." He said, screwing up his face.

"I dunno, I kinda like the taste of dick." She said and laughed. "I have to go to the ladies. I'll be right back." She said and got up.

"You want me to go with you?" He said and stood.

"No, no. I'll take dick-pen and his friend. They can carry our popcorn on the way back." She said.

Eric's eyes widened in alarm. "You sure that's a good idea?" He said.

She smiled under a squint that brushed him back. "They're harmless. Plus..." She motioned to the stadium full of people. "I know what I'm doing." Her teeth raking her top lip. The thudding in her groin was beginning to flow into her hips, down her legs.

He glared at her. She thrust out a hip, placing her fist on it, giving him a level look.

"Alright." He said. "Call me if you need anything."

"Anything...isn't going to be a problem." She blew him a kiss from crimson, bee-stung lips.

He watched her turn to go. She was suddenly a college girl again. She walked up to the frat boys, placing one glacier white sneaker on a chair in front of them, one little fist on a hip clad in tight silver and black striped yoga pants that looked painted on. On top she was wearing a tight crimson sweater with ISU stitched over her full little breasts. She wore a white cap with her dark ponytail, showing strands of red in the bright sunlight, pulled through the back.