Powerful

Powerful. That's what I feel every time I convince a man to do exactly what I want from him. Whether it's free drinks at a bar, admission to the hottest party on campus, or even just help on my homework, there's nothing I can't get out of them.

I'm pretty good at it, too; men are always underestimating me. Maybe that has to do with my five-foot frame, despite my "stacked" (to quote an admirer) body once my clothes come off. Maybe men think I'm stupid because of my shy (while sober!) personality, despite the fact that I'm going to graduate with honors from an Ivy League university at the end of this semester. Or maybe it's just that boys these days watch too much damn anime, and think that all Asian girls are timid and submissive.

Eventually, I get men exactly where I want them, though. I'm just the right mix of adorable, hot, and even (as evidenced by many a one-night stand) fuckable... if I want to be. Some women are prudes or old-fashioned or think of men as nothing but an annoyance, but they just don't get it. These days, it's our time to shine. Teasing and using sexuality as a tool is maybe the most potent, easily-available expressions of feminism available to a college girl these days.

So that's how I ended up walking by some frat on a Saturday night, checking out their typical weekend party. Despite the line of underclassmen and losers waiting outside, I know I won't need to wait.

"Hey Jade, great to see you again! Come on in," says the forgettable, tubby underclassman standing guard at the door tonight. He knew my name, so maybe he bought me a drink at some point or was a victim of prior flirting, but who cares. He's not my target for tonight.

"Haha, thanks cutie! My girls got caught up at their pregame so it's just me right now, but can you please let Emily and Andrea in when they get here?" I ask. Before he has a chance to respond, I smile, bat my eyelashes, and follow up with "thanks, I owe you!" before heading inside.

See? Yet another successful manipulation. There's no way some ugly wretch like that could resist me, given my getup for the evening. My normally waist-length black hair was tied up in pigtails for the night; my white crop-top contrasted perfectly with my golden skin and my skin-tight pants left very little for the imagination. Easy peasy.

Once inside, I meet up with some of the brothers that I knew. It's a typical frat party, with no discernible theme; "the theme is sluts!" I heard some boy shout, thinking he was funny. I maneuver around the dimly lit house with ease, letting the EDM, alcohol, and boys contribute to my enjoyment of the rager.

After an hour or two of dancing and flirting, my two friends still hadn't found their way to me. "No big deal," I think to myself, "they probably just got too drunk at the pregame and went to bed. I can handle myself."

A couple of the guys I had been hanging out with told me that the party was going to wind down soon and we should go to a bar together. "So long as you're buying," I reply. Unsurprisingly, they were fine with that. "Let's do a shot for the road!" a new friend of mine, Jake, suggested. Sure, why not - it's not like I was paying.

Flash forward an hour or two and we are at the local campus bar, continuing to drink and dance out the stress of midterms.

Over the course of the night, Jake continued to flirt with me. I decide to let him think he has a chance, if for no reason other than to keep the free drinks and good times flowing. And, if I'm being honest, it's a good time! All the guys are flirting and trying to dance with me; I'm the center of attention.

I'm all over him. With my ass swaying to the music and hips grinding back against him, it's no wonder he's infatuated. I can feel him starting to get hard through the fabric of his pants and mine. Our dancing turns into making out, which turns into some light groping. But I know my worth and I'm not some trashy slut! Over the shirt only, mister, no matter how much my sensitive nipples might be poking out or how little my shirt might do to hide my tits.

All good things must come to an end, so eventually it's time to start wrapping up the evening. The whole time I try to disengage from the group and head out, Jake is right by my side.

"You're not actually going home, are you? The bar's open for at least another hour or two," he implores, "or at the very least we could get a nightcap at mine?"

I'm conflicted: on one hand, I don't want to get into anything too serious, but on the other, why go to bed now? With a "lead the way!" and a short walk later, we start strolling and open the door into his apartment. I'm actually impressed by how clean it is, not to mention the fact that he can afford his own place! It's quiet and simple, but well appointed.

At this point, I'm wondering how far I want to let this go. Just some more making out and, maybe, if I feel generous, my top comes off.

We get to work, tongues intertwining sloppily as we retire to the big leather couch. While he was restrained and gentlemanly at the bar, now I start to see a new side of him. The whole time we're alone at his apartment, he's much more assertive. This was no longer "kissing," this is "hooking up."

While at the bar he slowly inched his hands up my shirt, teasing and testing his way to my chest, this time he goes straight up. Before I realize it, my bra is unhooked, he peels off my shirt, and he's straight up groping me. I do have fabulous, firm C-cups so his lack of self-control makes sense!

"Mmmph," I whimper through his mouth, as he pinches my nipples. I've been known to appreciate the occasional tweak in the throes of passion, but this is hard and unexpected.

Disengaging his tongue from mine, he laughs and barks, "they've been poking out the whole night, don't act like this is anything new."

He's not wrong, but he's definitely taking some liberties. Do I start to feel my panties start to dampen a little as a result? Who's to say. I decide to set the record straight and make sure he knows where the night's going, blurting out "okay, but don't think we're having sex tonight."

"How about some oral instead?" he retorts. Now, that's more my speed! I love the feeling of a man dipping his head between my legs, working my clit with some gentle licks as I grind into his face. It's one hell of a power trip, pulling his head into me and knowing that I'm the one in control - but more importantly, that I'm the one getting pleasure. After a moment of thought, I concur, "sounds like a plan to me."

As I stand up with the intent of repositioning myself back on the couch, Jake gets up with me as well. That's when everything changes.

Before I can sit down on the couch and give him access to my cooch, he reaches out with one hand, intertwines them with my braids, and starts pushing me down to my knees. I can't see, but based on a "zrrrrp" I infer that his other hand is working his fly to let out his cock.

In shock at this sudden change of events, I barely even realize that I'm kneeling in front of him. I've seen my fair share of exposed men, and he measures up (as it were). Despite the darkness of the room and my lack of a measuring tape, his dick seems like a solid seven or eight inches of hard whiteboy meat.

"Woah I thought you wer-" I start to stammer, before he makes the unilateral decision that my mouth is meant to be used for something else. My mouth is flooded with cock and the salty taste of a man. After the night's steamy makeout sesh, he's dripping with precum. Thankfully, once he decides I was going to start blowing him, I have a moment to figure out how to react.

My mind is racing. He has treated me well tonight, he's cute, and he's hung. I also don't want it to get back to his friends that I'm a prude. I decide that it's not the end of the world if I end up going down on him instead of vice versa tonight. I know I'll be able to figure out a time for reciprocal pleasure some other weekend.

I don't mean to brag, but I'm kind of the queen of blowjobs. Every man I've ever been with has said that my technique is so much better than his ex's. I watch my teeth, curl my lips, and put my tongue to work. I mix in long licks from base to tip with swirls around the big head. From down on my knees, I look up at him with seductive glances - I'm blowing his mind (among other things!) and I know it.

"Fucking Asian girls..." he moans. He doesn't go into much detail, but I take this as a compliment. I guess we have a reputation?

With my hair in braids, he has natural handholds. As with his prior behavior, he eventually becomes more aggressive over the course of receiving head, using my long black hair to pull me into position. While I stay an inch or two from the tip, he clearly wants me to go deeper. I don't love the taste of him, but I don't have much choice at this point. Two, three, four inches, and I'm at my limit. With an open hand, he grabs the back of my head and pulls me toward him. I need air and start to gag, but he doesn't let up.

I use my right hand, previously curled around his cock, to push against his thigh and finally get much-needed oxygen into my lungs. Gasping and coughing, I catch sight of my reflection and see that my mascara is ruined. I might not look cute at the moment, but I look fucking hot. Damn if I haven't been giving him the best head he's ever gotten.

"Look, you can keep giving me a half-assed blowjob if you want - that's your prerogative... but Jade, you're going to want to get this thing lubed based on where it's going next," he growls, interrupting my self-congratulatory internal monologue. "I've fucked a bunch of you Asian girls, and you're going to be tightly wrapped around this cock."

Wait, what? I freeze and don't know how to react. That's not what I had planned for tonight. Best to avoid the issue and just finish blowing him.

I blend tonguework with pulls of my wrist, starting to jack him off toward completion like never before. Based on the movement of his body, I think he's almost there and I prepare to push myself off before he cums.

He whips his dick out of my mouth, drool flying everywhere. I brace for the worst, closing my eyes in anticipation of cum on my face. Instead, I'm lifted up by his arms and carried into his bedroom. Dropped on his bed, I realize that I misjudged this whole event. He wasn't close to cumming - he was just preparing for stage two! I'm filled with his scent, built up over however many nights. Rugged, just barely hinting at the raw masculinity driving his acts tonight.

Though my pussy is throbbing and leaking (was I touching myself with my left hand while he was making me blow him?), at first thought I'm not sure how I feel about sex tonight. It would be better than continuing to try to choke down his big white cock though - fuck it, why not. I could use a good lay.

Jake is at least being considerate now and pulling out some lube from his nightstand. Almost too late, I realize that he's not wearing a condom. "Don't get me pregnant, asshole!" I blurt before he can line himself up. He cackles, as though what I said was funny.

"Hah - don't worry. I'm not stupid; I don't want some half-Asian mutt to ruin my life."

At first I'm relieved, until I notice that he still isn't wearing a condom. While I'm trying to reconcile my cognitive dissonance, he flips me onto my stomach with my head buried in his pillows. My internal monologue is interrupted with a smear of lube (cold!) dripping down my amber ass.

I can feel the tip of his cock pressing against my tight, virgin - "asshole!" I shout, as he tries to slip it in my back door. "Nononono-" my denial is muffled by my panties, picked up off the floor and shoved in my mouth. With one of Jake's hands on my back, pushing me into the pillow, the only thing left to do is prepare.

I have my left hand rubbing my clit in tiny circles, waves of pleasure starting to roll across my taut body. As his large, now giant-feeling dick starts pushing into my ass, I can't help but think this is simultaneously wrong and right. After a minute of hyperventilating and pain, we settle into a rhythm with nothing but pleasure.

My friends have always complained about the times they acquiesced to their boyfriends, pleading to try anal. But every once in a while, they admit the shameful truth - they love it. The feeling of having an alpha using you, being nothing but a sex object. Over the next few minutes as he thrusted into me, I joined my friends in their dirty little secret. Nothing gets me more turned on.

Calling me his "little Asian slut," he grabs my bucking hips and drives deep into me, deeper than any other man I've been with. When ultimately I hear him cry out "ohmygod" and feel him twitch his cock in my tight little ass, pumping rope after rope of cum into me as an orgasm rolls through my body, I realize more about myself than ever before.

No matter how powerful I think I am, around guys like that I'm utterly powerless.