Meet in the Library: My First Time

After a few more seconds, I got up and straightened my khakis, then walked back through the library to finish out my workday carrying a new secret in my mind and a hot load of cum inside me.

That evening, after I got home, I decided to check my email one more time.

"That was incredible." He'd written. "So hot."

"I loved your cock." I replied. "Let me know if you ever want to meet again."

I spent the next few weeks re-playing our encounter over again in my mind, and a few times went back to our secret spot and jerked off as I imagined the pulsing feeling of him cumming inside my mouth. I checked my email daily, but didn't hear from him for a while.

"You free to meet up again?" He finally wrote to me one morning later that semester.

We met up again that afternoon and repeated our encounter, and then met three more times the following semester. At each meeting we became more comfortable with each other, and with our respective roles in our arrangement.

I tested and exercised my deep throating skills, until I was finally able to take him into my throat, sinking him inside my face until my lips met the base of his shaft. Meanwhile, he got more and more comfortable taking control, testing the limits by grabbing my hair and gently pressing me down onto him, until eventually he'd take full control and face fuck me like a toy.

During the weeks or months between our meet-ups, we would explore our respective sexual fantasies and urges, exchanging thoughts and devious desires.

"I always wanted to cum on someone's face." He shared at one point.

At our third meeting that next semester, as I slowly licked and teased his frenum with my tongue, he showed what were now the familiar signs that he was near orgasm. His breathing grew heavy, soft moans riding on each breath. His cock pulsed in my grip while his head grew large and red.

To bring him over the edge, I sank him into my mouth, sucking tight against him in and out in two long strokes. Then, when I knew he was losing control, I surprised him by pulling him from my lips and pressing his hot cock tip to my cheek.

I looked up into his eyes -- something I'd gotten more and more comfortable with and found brought me to near orgasm to see the look of desire and desperate pleasure in his eyes -- and delighted in the shocked, excited look on his face. A slight smile formed on his lips as he realized what was happening...then it quickly faded into an uncontrolled gasp of pleasure as I stroked him to completion on my face.

I stroked his shaft, greased with my saliva and his pre-cum, firm and fast until it convulsed in my grip and he erupted. I closed my eyes and savored the sensation as the hot streams of his cum splashed across my face. The first shot flew across my cheek, forehead, and into my hair. The next pulsed out over my closed eye lid. I kept stroking him, letting him empty everything he had brought me onto my eager face.

"Fuck." He gasped afterwards, as he looked down at my face covered in his juice.

"Mmm" I moaned, wiping his cum from my eye and the rest of my face and licking it from my fingers.

Once I'd collected all that I could and swallowed it down, I headed for a single-stall men's room on the main part of that floor to rinse my face. I didn't encounter anyone along the way, but the thought that someone might come around a corner and catch me with the remnants of some guy's orgasm streaked across my face gave me a thrill.

"Would you be into bottoming?" He emailed me a few weeks later.

The question made me nervous. However, it was something that I'd fantasized about -- I'd be there sucking him off like usual and he'd take full control, ripping me off his cock and up to my feet, spinning me around and pinning me over the stack of boxes in the alcove, ripping down my pants and the women's lace thong I took to wearing when I knew we'd be meeting, and pressing his eager cock inside me. I'd bought a 6" dildo that I'd taken to fucking myself with, imagining it was him.

"I think so." I said, after some thought.

But it never happened. I would have let him fuck me in a heartbeat, but that semester ended soon thereafter and our exchanges trickled until finally they ended. No real "goodbye," or anything. I just stopped hearing from him after he presumably graduated.

He turned out to be the perfect first partner for me, and I like to think I was the same for him. And even all these years later, not two weeks go by without me thinking about the smell of his musk, the taste of his cum, the feeling of his cock growing and pulsing in my mouth, the feeling of his warmth oozing across my face, or the look of thankful pleasure in his eyes as he watched.