I Never Thought...byRandomguy664©
I would consider myself lucky. You would consider yourself lucky too if in your dullest, longest and most tedious class there was a cute girl sitting next to you.
The class was Economics 101, and no college career would be complete without an incomprehensible class that seemed to never end. The fact that all my fellow college buddies are hanging out at this time while I'm stuck in class just makes it more tortuous.
Supporting my head with my hand, I attempted to listen about elasticity, understanding nothing at all, before I glanced at the one thing that kept me from dropping this damned class.
She's listening intently, her hand copying down a complex graph in her notebook. Her hand only stopped to brush her curly brown hair out of her eyes.
I know when you're in a boring class and have a cute girl nearby to awe at, your standards tend to relax. For example: a girl may only be a solid six on a scale of one to ten in a normal situation, but in a really boring situation, she will turn into a nine. (The same phenomenon can be seen with female professional athletes.) In this case though, she honestly was a nine. My ranking went up a whole point just for her legs.
Speaking of her legs, she was wearing a blue miniskirt today. Why? I tend not to entertain such questions when something so wonderful happens.
My eyes drifted down from above the desk to down below it and at that miniskirt and the bounty that it allowed me to see: her legs.
They were white and smooth. They were begging for my hands to run up the thighs from the knees and into the slit that lies between those thighs. She would squirm, her slim body twisting at my touch, the heat of her sex pulsing and her soft cries of pleasure would echo loudly in my mind and loins.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to describe it that I was begging to run my hands on her thighs, rather then her thighs begging me. Such is life, those that desire go on wanting, while those that are desired barely acknowledge your existence. I sighed as I turned my glance from her legs back toward the whiteboard, with graphs in Thai spread about it. No, it was not actually Thai, but considering how much I understood, it might as well been.
Another twenty minutes of boredom until the end of class awaited me as I returned to the dull activity known as spacing out. The only thoughts that drifted into my blank mind were that of the girl, but not necessarily of anything sexual value, but rather trying to remember her name. A few of the random names included: Elise, Miranda, Leticia and Maude. I think it ended with a vowel, but I I never actually had much of a conversation with her, so there was no official introductions. Spacing out like this tends to not bring about anything of value, but I continued it nevertheless. Not paying attention and actively doing nothing is better than paying attention and understanding nothing.
That is until I saw a bit of movement out of the corner of my eye. A wonderful, beautiful, little bit of movement.
Her legs were rubbing against each other, maybe she had an itch, but why she was doing it was wholly irrelevant, the fact it was presenting a fine amount of extra skin to the world. Her right thigh rubbed up and down against her left leg. It was slow, but as she rubbed her thigh up and down against the left one, I spotted something strange on the inside of her left thigh. To see such a thing on a girl would be something that would definitely raise an eyebrow. In a way, it was repulsive and also strangely arousing.
She has a birthmark that looked a little like the state of Maine on the inside of her left thigh.
I smiled, I have seen something that she would only let a choice few see.
The unintended erotic dance of her legs continued. Her flesh grinded against itself, feeding my mind with images of subtle eroticism to expand upon in my imagination.
When you're bored or preoccupied with a girl's fidgeting legs, you tend to ignore any other distractions that may crop up, including the background noise that may or may not include the monotone lecturing of an economics professor. However, one noise rose above that white noise. From the girl's lips came a tiny sigh, not a sigh of boredom or disappointment, but one of pleasure.
Said sigh was promptly recorded into my memory.
The display stopped suddenly though, and I looked up, stopping for a moment to take in the sight of her breasts, before noticing I was son the receiving end of a glare. Her eyes were accusatory. 'Were you ogling me?' She said without a word, but with a subtle gesture.
I shirked, I was caught. My hand was in the cookie jar, and Mom was watching the whole time. Responding with a guilty nod, I made sure to elaborate via non-verbal communication that I could not help it. Her legs were simply a work of art I could do nothing but admire.
Although sometimes a good compliment can calm a furious woman down a little, in this case, I was serious.
She snorted, made her glare twice as harsh for a moment just to drive her disgust with me home and returned her attention to the lecturing professor.
Defeated, I turned to the clock on the wall. There was still another ten minutes. At least I had a fresh bit of material to space out about.
After around eleven agonizing minutes, I was in the one place on campus I could truly relax. The men's restroom right by my economics class. Due to a bad, and totally untrue rumor that it's never cleaned, it is always empty. I stand in front of my urinal, the third one from the left, and empty my mind. It is only in this place can I truly think about the important things that happened during the day, or in my entire twenty year long life for that matter. As my mind reached that moment of zen, the important things drifted into focus.
Relaxing like this also means I release what waste fluids that need to come out, hence why I relax in front of the urinal, with my dick out.
With only a moment of non-concentration, the important thing of the day, the one true thing I must remember, came to mind. That girl and her thighs' dance of eroticism and to cap it all off, that wonderful, wonderful sigh of pleasure. What a sight. I joked that I might pad that story with some torrid sex scene in the courtyard, write it up and send it into Penthouse. "Dear Penthouse, I never thought this would happen to me..." I uttered in a whisper before bursting into laughter.
With a double shaking of my member sending those last drops of urine into the urinal, I moved my fingers to button my jeans. Then to the zipper to finish the job. Only I found that my hand was not alone by my crotch.
Someone else was grasping my cock. This hand wasn't just grasping me, it was playing with me. It was caressing my balls, stroking the shaft into rigidity.
I reached up and pulled the lever to flush the urinal.
"Just relax." The voice was right by my ear, soft, quite and feminine.
The hand was expertly manipulating my hardening cock, it knew exactly what it was doing. The fingers ran gently across the underside of my balls, it toyed with the head of my shaft. It didn't take long for me to start breathing heavily because of this hand's swift movements. It only too a few moments; moments, not minutes, to get me hard, achingly so.
But then the pleasure train stopped as suddenly as it began. "Turn around." The voice whispered.
With the amount of blood that was flowing to my swollen cock, there wasn't enough blood left for my brain to do anything but do what the voice said. The breathy voice that was whispering in my ear belonged to that of the girl, not just any girl, the girl that kept me from dropping out of Economics.
She looked down at my erect cock with her azure eyes and then looked right back at me. "Do you want to continue?" There was no veiled meaning, she meant exactly what she said with ever fiber of her being.
It was posed as a question, but any guy who had been in this situation knew that it was not a question that merited any thought. When a 24 year old (at least she looks that way) with a killer body gives you a fantastic hand job and asks you if you want to continue, you say yes. You say yes like Bill Gates asks if you want a billion dollars. You say yes like when you are asked if you are a god by an androgynous Sumerian god.
I looked at this woman, her brown curls draping down her shoulders and left hand resting on the hem of her skirt, and nodded. My own body would have completely shut down in protest if I did otherwise.
There are many kinds of smile, and some of them can be compound smiles. The woman smiled happily and with a healthy dose of naughty intent. She gestured downward with her head. "Then you'll have to take care of me, and then we can get to business." Her hand lifted the hem of her miniskirt a little, further tempting me with a bit more skin.
Dropping to my knees, I wrapped a hand around her left leg right at the knee. Given the chance, after only maybe at most half an hour of wanting, I enacted my fantasy. I ran my hand along her soft thighs, each tiny stroke reaching higher and higher up her leg. My tongue went for her right leg, and danced opposite my hand. By the time my hand was caressing the great birthmark of Maine, my tongue and hand was reaching into the inside of her skirt. I could sense the heat and scent of her womanhood.
Her hands laid on my head and she pushed it away. "Let me remove my skirt..."
I obeyed and watched the small blue skirt fall from her hips and down. The only thing they covered now were her ankles.
A snow white thong was the only thing that covered her genitals now, and there was a strangeness to the shape underneath. I looked back up at her.
"You still want to continue?" She said with just a touch of worry in her tone and expression. "You know what may happen, right?"
She had me when she gave me a hand job. I pulled one of the knots on the side of her thong, and the strip of cloth fell to the floor. A cock, half erect, and a pair of testicles were presented in front of me. Her one eyed monster perked up when it saw me. If it could make noise, would be chirping like a baby bird, begging for attention, nourishment.
I kissed the head. This only made it stand further erect and beg for more attention. So I gave it more attention, wrapping my lips around the head. My lips went down the side of her shaft, puckered until I cupped one of her balls in my mouth. I played with this girl's testicle ever so carefully with my tongue. I knew how much it would hurt if I played roughly after all.
She leaned her upper body forward, resting her hand on the wall behind me. Her body hung above my head and brushed against the stray strands of hair that stood up.
With my hands gripping her hips, I took the head of her cock into my mouth. As I basked in the scent of woman that emanated from her, I pushed my head forward and started to give her a blowjob.
As my head started to bob back and forth into her groin, I was reminded of all the boys in middle school who's response to anyone and anything they disagreed with or disliked was 'Gay'. In that day, anyone who wasn't cool would be insulted that they should change their wicked ways or be brushed aside by the rest of society and burn for their supposed sins. The thought of a guy sucking a cock, or a girl with one would be ridiculed as such.
It was when the girl let out soft moans of pleasure that I truly knew that those kids were fucking stupid. Screw their intolerant ways, sucking a girl's cock was awesome and the girl was gorgeous.
My blowjob was a crude affair. Her cock going in and out of my mouth was not only being pleasured by my tongue and lips, but also unfortunately my teeth. The skill was not one I have practiced, but given the way her hips were rhythmically thrusting into my mouth, I figured that my passion for it was making up for it.
Her left hand caressed the back of my head, weaving around my hair in an instinctual reaction to the pleasure I was giving her. It would dig into my head and guide it toward the fellatio that she desired.
"Oh god..." The woman uttered as her hips, previously thrusting back and forth, stopped. Her voice, initially so soft and collected in the beginning of this encounter became more loud and ecstatic. "I'm gonna cum!"
I pulled my head away from her hips and her cock left my mouth just as she ejaculated. Pearly strands of hot semen hit me in the face. The scent of semen was never unfamiliar with me, I am a healthy young man after all, but never before have I been so intimately familiar with it. A little of it was on my lips, but my tongue cleaned that up. After tasting that, I looked up at her.
She reached out to me and helped me to my feet. "Thanks. I needed that."
No words would come to my mouth, whether out of being honored or embarrassed, so I merely nodded and gave her a wave of my hand, basically saying that it was no problem. But as I went to a sink to start and wash the semen of off my face, as well as wash my hands after urinating, she asked another question.
"Do you want to continue?" The questioned echoed almost ominously in the silent restroom, only the sound of running water dared compete with it.
I cupped my hands under the water and splashed the water on my face. As the water washed away the semen this amazing hot and fascinating girl shot onto my face, it washed away any doubts I might have had. I turned my head toward the girl, smiled and nodded just a tiny bit. It's okay, I don't mind.
The girl was right behind me now, her hand reaching around my waist, undoing the lone button that kept my jeans on. She pulled my underpants and jeans down to just above my knees.
I had joked about it earlier, but now it was starting to sound like a letter to Penthouse. Those letters are always so fake, but I guess if something like this is happening to me, I guess it must be true in some very rare cases. I think this might be some sort of dream actually, but before I could go about and pinch myself, it seems that someone stuck something into my butt and gave the exact same shock that a pinch would.
Her moan and my groan were perfectly synchronized as she plunged her cock into my ass. If there was an Olympic event for synchronized cries that danced and intermingled in the air, we definitely would have had a shot at a medal.
The experience was not one I would call pleasurable at first, her movements were kindly slow, but it only gave sufficient time to dread each moment of pain. But she repaid my kindness of offering up my own butt with giving that wonderful hand job again. (It makes sense now why she'd be so good at it, she has a cock of her own to practice with.) Her repeated moans of pleasure as her hips bounced against my ass were like the harmonious crooning of an angel. Plus, compared sitting through a two hour economics lecture, this actually pretty damn arousing.
The girl leaned forward, and her breasts were pressed against my back. As her hips sped up, her soft moans became louder and more passionate as well. The cock in my ass swelled it explored and plunged in and out of me.
Her hand was moving as passionately as hips to please me as well as I pleased her. Well, it would be more accurate to say that the hand was pleasing me as well as she pleased me with cock. Her breasts, even still obscured with clothing, pressed against my back was a bonus.
The multi-pronged assault was just becoming too satisfying to prevent me from panting and moan in pleasure along with her. I must have been quite a spectacle, my hands resting on the edge of a restroom sink, my pants above my knees, with a gorgeous girl behind me fucking and giving me a hand me like a wild beasts. Our moans and howls of pleasure echoing among the pristine ceramic urinals.
I knew it was a hell of a spectacle, I was watching it in the mirror in front of me. Wonderful thing, mirrors. Her face was buried in my shoulders screaming wonderful cries of ecstasy into my shirt.
Her bucking hips continued, stronger, faster. I wouldn't have been surprised if her hips started to fall apart like some sort of jalopy in a silent movie at this speed. "C-can I cum inside?" She cried out. "Can I?"
If you always say yes to a woman asking if you want to continue, you can't say no to her if she's crying out in sheer pleasure like that, no matter the question or circumstance. I looked into the mirror in front of me and nodded, telling her, once again, that it was okay. Perhaps I was also nodding to the me in the mirror, agreeing that well, I didn't really mind having to clean out semen from my own ass today.
The girl that had made my economics class almost bearable, who I ogled on a regular basis, who I desperately wanted to have sex with, stopped fucking me. With a series of jolts, she let loose cum inside of me The simple sigh of pleasure she had given me not even an hour ago was replaced in the cherished sounds part of my mind by her scream of ecstasy as she vented sexual frustration with my own body.
Her cry itself was enough to cause me to let loose onto the floor, her hand job and fucking of me just compounded upon that. The load I unleashed upon the restroom floor was enough to cause a despondent sigh in even the most optimistic and cheery of janitors.
The duet of moans and cries of ecstasy ceased. We had finished and after a few moments, we were resting sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall.
Brushing aside beads of sweat from her forehead, the girl breathed a sigh of relief. The fact that she was still naked from the waist down was not a source of embarrassment.
Although it wasn't like I was any more bashful, well, my pants and underpants were halfway on, but I didn't care either. "So..." I said when I started to catch my breath "What brought this on?"
"It's scary to jack off in the car." She turned to me, and I got a good chance to glance at those blue eyes "It's a half an hour drive home, and I wouldn't be able to concentrate unless I got off, so..."
"Yeah, but why me?"
She rolled her. "You were gawking at me, so I figured it'd be easy to seduce you."
Gawking at the girl like a foolish and horny thirteen year old apparently got me laid, I was confounded by how lucky I was. Maybe my life was a letter to Penthouse. If that's true, I await my next stop at the laundromat as redheaded twins will fellate me while I get my change.
I nodded at her. "Can we do it again?"
While she was busy getting dressed again, she looked back at me. "Yeah, why not?"
The grin on my face must have been a mile wide as she tied the knot of her thong, with her ass only a foot in front of me. That is, until I realized my economics class would just be more agonizingly long if I was awaiting something afterward.
Luck demands sacrifices paid in agonizing wait periods it seems.