Shooter/Wonder Woman

She was clearly a woman of the world.  She was seemingly educated, attractive, popular, and incredibly sensuous. It was never a question of whether men wanted her, but the question was always did she want them.  No one that I knew around the campus knew whether she had men she was friendly with, and no one I knew had any idea whether she was a virgin or not, she just seemed too sophisticated and worldly to have missed that part of life.  

Everyone knew of her.  She was the kind of person who people noticed.  You could not miss her in a crowd.  She simply stood out.  Many of us did not actually know her name and some called her shooter, because she seemed to be unaware of the fact that the way she often sat revealed more of her panties than she probably was aware, although I had a feeling she might just know exactly what she was doing.  Driving us crazy is what she was doing, and I felt she was far too worldly than to be unaware of something that fundamental, that simple.  

The blouses she wore were always low cut, the skirts were always exceedingly short, and her smile was 

invariably friendly but provocative, genuine but just a little mysterious.   I just couldn't imagine someone who seemed so sophisticated could be so ignorant of what she exposed.   Deep down I knew she was aware of what we could see, what she was giving us a peek at, and I also felt she had grown men doing foolish things to please her.  

She rarely talked to anyone around campus, but it was not really unfriendly, just reticent, private, not needing to chat, to talk if it wasn't necessary. She didn't just fill the air with words just to be talking.  I always felt she could have a lot to say if there was a reason to be talking, like exchanging ideas, or giving her opinion if asked.  

She always seemed to sit in the same place, at the same time, and always from about eleven until just a little past two.  I always noticed, always admired the view, and that was why I was so speechless the day I saw that the panties she showed so casually were gone.   It was clear she had purposely left off the underwear that so obviously concealed what was hidden below. 

That was why I was so surprised when I heard her speak to me when I walked by, as if she knew I had seen her lack of underwear.  "Are you an art major?" she asked when I was close enough to speak to.  No one was close enough to be the one she was speaking to, so I turned and answered.

"I am one, yes," I said. It was no accident I was there at that time, as I had walked by her everyday during the week at that time since the semester had started.  She smiled and motioned me closer.

"You got my message," she said calmly.   I stepped closer and shaded my eyes with my hand. "I was worried you would miss it," she said with a grin.  I am sure I blushed, then I stepped closer.  "You seem to come by here a lot," she said.  

"I do.  I like the scenery here," I said.

"I am glad of that," she said with a casual smile.  "I was afraid you would miss my bulletin," she said with a playful tone.   "You are very observant.  I am glad.  My name is Yvette," she said.  "And yours is Julian.   I have noticed you noticing me for a while," she said with an awareness that didn't surprise me.

The fact that she knew my name made me smile.   I sat down next to her.  "It is unnecessary to ask if you come here often, since I see you everyday in the same spot."

"I like the scenery here," she said with that same lovely smile.  

"You asked if I were an art major," I said.  "Why was that? 

"I model for artists in the village.  I am thinking of signing up here at the college," she said stoically. 

"Most of our models here are nude," i said.

"Yes, that is what I do," she replied. 

"I would love that," I said.

"Yes, I bet you would," she said with a grin.  "You seem to like pretty things," she added.  I said I did and I saw a lot in this area.  "Yes, you seem to," she said smiling.  

"We could double entendres each other all day," I said, "but would you like to join me for coffee?"

"I thought you would never ask," she said coyly.   Then she got up and took my arm.  "Lead on," she said.

When we got to the coffee shop, we took a table in the back and I scooted in next to her.  "You ever use models?" she asked.  I nodded without a word, then she said, "Are you full up in the model department?"

"I can always use experienced models," I said, "especially those who have a little show off in them." 

"I don't mind showing off when I have to," she said.  "I hope you pay well.  I work cheap if the 'price' is right," she said being aware of the double entendre.  "I mean if there is an incentive clause," she said with a grin.  

"I usually pay $50 a sitting," I said.  "Sometimes a hundred if the model is good."

"I am worth a hundred, but the incentive doesn't always have to be money," she said.  "Sometimes the incentive is the pose itself.  "When would you like me to start?" she asked.  

"I am going to my studio now," I said.  "You could start today.  Are you ready to work?"  She smiled and nodded and said it wasn't always work.  We went to my apartment and once inside she slipped off her skirt.  Sure enough, no panties.  Then she pulled her blouse over her head and, of course, no bra.  She asked if I had a pose in mind and I said good models know the poses.  She nodded and began striking poses.

"Stop me if you see anything you like," she said.

"You have to be kidding," I said.

"Touché," she said.  "Tell me if you see a pose you like," she corrected.  "Maybe when we take a break you will show me some of your work?" she asked politely.  She posed and I sketched for twenty minutes and then she took a break, but unlike most models she did not put on a robe, which I had hanging on the peg.  She walked around my studio apartment, looking at the sketches I had up.  I handed her some of my paintings, mostly nudes, and she nodded and said they were very good.  "Fine sketches," she said.  "I love this one," she said holding up one of my favorite paintings of my usual model.  "She is lovely," she said, holding it up to see the full affect.    "Do you ever sleep with any of your models?" she asked candidly. 

"Only a few," I said with a smile.  

"Picky?" she asked.

"Selective," I said.  

After two hours of posing she stood and stretched, then she asked to see the rest of the studio.  She did not bother to dress, but walked with me throughout my four room flat.  When we got to the bedroom she stopped and looked in.   "Looks comfortable," she said.  I told her to go in if she wanted to try the bed.  She went in and sat on the bed, then stretched out nude on the comforter and patted the mattress.

"Care to join me?" she asked.  I moved to the bed and she began removing my belt, then unbuttoned my jeans, then with a smile pulled them down my legs and groaned at the sight of my underwear-less torso.  My penis spilled out and she sighed.  "You are a manly man," she said.  

I climbed on the bed and put one leg over her and positioned myself between her thighs  "Need any directions?" she asked.  

"I think I can find my way," I said, positioning my now erect penis at her tiny slit, set off be a small triangle of hair just above her clitoris.  She opened her legs more and arched her back, giving me a nice target.  My erection touched her labia lips and the head slipped between her puffy petals and into her.  She sighed and pushed up into me.  

When we had both come and were resting in the afterglow.  I looked at her and said, "Some people at school call you 'shooter,'" I told her.

"I know," she said.  "I have a friend who works in the Student Center," she said. "She told me."    

"Do you know what it means?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.  "Beaver shooter," she said.  "It's nice to be known For something," she said.  "Nudity doesn't bother me.  Seeing my panties bothers me even less.  I hope they enjoyed it," she said.

"Oh they enjoyed it," I said.  "They really enjoyed seeing your panties."  

"I am glad to be able to brighten their day," she said.

"Oh you brighten their day, all right," I said.  "You brighten their whole life.  You brighten the life of all the males here and a few of the women," I said.  "Even seeing panties will enrich the lives of horny males who are college age and have normal amount of testosterone serging through their cells," I said.   She laughed and smiled playfully.  "You are doing a public service here at Cal State Long Beach."  

We made love again after that and I held her in my arms.  "You just brightened my day today," I said, kissing her on the sweet, wonderful mouth that smiled up at me.  She scooted down in the bed and took hold of my penis.

"You have a work of art here," she said, admiring my penis, which was getting hard again as she spoke.  She kissed the end of it, then she took it into her mouth, sucking on the tip and swabbing her tongue around the bulbous head.  "You taste like lavender," she said, then she took it all in her mouth and took me to the back of her throat. 

I watched her attend to my erect penis and I brushed the hair p back from her face so I could see my cock in her mouth.  She looked at me while she still held my erection between her lips. "I love the taste of a good man in the morning, noon, or afternoon," she said with a giggle.  She then got down to business and sucked seriously until I was ready to come.  She could tell I was ready and held me in place as I began ejaculating on her tongue.  

When I was finished and she had swallowed every spurt, she kissed the end and sucked on the come covered end, making me hold her away because it was so sensitive.  She left my apartment at six that night.  

The next day I went by her spot, but she was not there.   I haven't seen her since our wonderful day of modeling, sketching, fucking, and talking.  She hasn't been around the school at all and I have asked about her in the village, but no one seems to know where she has gone.  

Shooter certainly is a woman of the world and I suppose she is off brightening someone else's day somewhere on some other college campus around somewhere.  I hope to see her again sometime in the future, but I know she has other people to make happy for a day or two. The painting I have of her hangs in the studio I have rented in the village that never fails to get comments and compliments every single day.  When people ask me who the model is I just say Wonder Woman, but now I wonder if she was real or just an illusion created by my imagination and my need to meet the woman of my dreams?  I wish I knew, but then does it really matter?