The Journey Ch. 02

She turned her back on her lust-building admirers, took the hem of the sweater in both hands, and pulled it over her head. While her arms were aloft, entangled in the top, she looked over her shoulder and smiled, shimmying her chest, flourishing sidewinder boobs past her torso. She tossed the sweater aside and seductively turned face forward, and the men actually groaned in envy of whoever was going to be her man tonight.

Her breasts were bounteous, much more than a handful, the nipples tinted pale pink. She shimmied again to demonstrate their round softness and fluid elasticity, grinning at everyone but thinking about what bawdy thoughts must be in the mind of her, as yet, unsuspecting but aspiring bed companion.

Carrying her discarded panties in hand, she stepped gingerly in her high heels across the stage and descended the short stage stairs. The hard steps jostled her tits in route and she walked directly to her assigned man. His face lit up in awe of the gift the fates had just bestowed on him.

She mounted his lap in sidesaddle, and leaned against his shoulder, pecking an affectionate kiss on his cheek. The mesmerized man just stared at the busty lady in his lap, his eyes glued to her breasts.

Kate broke the ice. She sat up and wormed her panties into his pants pocket. She felt a tubular bulk pressed against her burrowing hand. That was good news for her.

"Those are for you. And that's not all."

Her pocketed hand stayed in his pants and her other one lifted a boob and bounced its heavy mass.

"You can play with my funbags all night but why wait. Go on, give 'em a squeeze right now."

The man accepted her sassy invitation and filled his hand with soft, pliable tit meat. Kate leaned to his ear and whispered her query, wiggling her pocket-trapped hand against his swelled cock.

"Did you like my booty bops and twerks while I was dancing on stage?"

The man just throated a 'Uhm huh' in a positive reply. She kept her voice low, a sexy chat just between the two of them.

"Oh... well, that was my standing dance. Wait until I'm wedged under you in bed and doing my horizontal disco. You're going to love how my moves will make your cock feel. I can do those same moves mounted up on your lap as well."

Kate wiggled a couple of example twerks on his groin under her hip and massaged the bulky mass trapped there in the crotch of his pants. Her buried hand rubbed against his erection.

"Oh... did I do that? That must be uncomfortable for you. Let me help."

She wiggled her hand free of his pants and lowered his zipper, tunneling in anew and finding his bare erection, packed in the close confines.

"We'll get that big boy out later. For now, I'll just hold it for you and we'll watch the last show."

The man was overdosing on lust but held his manners. The cuddling pair politely turned their attention back to the looming final performance where the stage hands had set up the next act: an office scenario with a desk and a chair. Kate leaned against his chest and let him cuddle her tits. She held his cock but didn't move her gripping hand.

The lights lowered and a spotlight followed Amber as she entered stage left, clicking the floor in her heels. She was a classy secretary wearing a short wool skirt and fitted blazer. The coat's single button was sewn low and the lapels wide, displaying the swells of generous cleavage, pressed together by a barely seen black bra. Her long blonde hair was piled in a classic bun on her head, pinned with a pencil. Her blue eyes were less evident behind the large black-framed glasses, an undeniable suggestion of ditzy office bimbo.

She fussed with papers on the desk and dropped several to the floor. She faced backward and bent over at the waist to pick them up, the skirt riding up her ass to reveal her panties, garter belt, and thigh-high dark hose. Upon, hearing an auditorium moan at the exhibition, she looked back as if noticing the audience for the first time and covered her mouth with a hand, a bashful move that set the mood as an innocent young intern.

Standing, her hand fanned her face, a typical move when the atmosphere is too warm for comfort. Or added to by a little embarrassment.

But that didn't last long. She looked around for onstage voyeurs and seeing none, sat gracefully in the wheeled tilting chair, in profile to the forgotten audience, and propped her heels up on the desk, opening her legs and slowly rubbing her pussy through her panties. She leaned her head back as the swelling lust flowed through her body. She feigned a feverish feeling, rubbing her neck and chest, before unbuttoning the coat and letting the lapels flop apart. Her black bra came into view and, still feeling the excessive warmness, she popped the front closure and pulled it aside off her breasts.

The masses stayed in nubile high perched form, nice sized and shaped that befitted Amber's coed fitness routines.

She fanned her face again but feigned its futility to right her situation. She sat up and stood. Down came the skirt and it revealed the garter belt and panties. The belt went next. Still, she was fanning her face to cool it. She looked stage right and left, seemingly on the lookout for any emerging voyeurs, at least ones that fitted the private office scene. And then, off came the panties.

She plucked out the pencil and the blonde bun puffed open. She finger-combed the tangles, her moves jostling her breasts, her hair falling down her back.

She walked across the stage and down the steps, heading for the remaining unaccompanied gentleman, and slid her bare ass, sidesaddle, onto his lap. She held his cheeks and gave him a deep kiss. She stuffed her panties in his shirt pocket.

"I'm pretty warm, maybe hot, almost certainly overheated. Will you help me cool down?"

"My pleasure, ma'am."

The evening's staged recitals were over but the real entertainment was just getting started. The pairs quickly made their way to the exits and scurried to their quarters. The night was still young and they intended to use all the available overnight time to quench the heat of the fantasies instigated by the talented coeds' performances.

And, of course, no college could omit the debutante ball, a night of the coeds dressed in buxom gowns and coiffed hairdos. The chamber music enabled slow dances that rubbed silkily garbed groins and chests together in a foreplay milieu. The festivity concluded with each debutante announced in turn by the Housemother and then, from a prearranged roster, introduced to her, unbeknownst until now, overnight companion. The assigned pair made their smiling farewells and the debutante's gallant escort took her to his suite for a mimicked deflowering of the young lady that signaled her emergence into 'polite society', and her eligibility to suck and be fucked by her future middle-aged gentlemen suitors.

The sexual culmination of all these festivities played out in the various lodgings available onsite for the fortunate Guest Coach Tutors who had been invited to attend and aid in the girls' evolving sensual maturity. It was not uncommon for the nights to be filled with ecstatic calls and cries in the neighboring rooms. Rather than disturbances, the noises only spurred the girls to strive for their highest and best efforts to equal and, hopefully, exceed their sister classmates' man-satisfying accomplishments. The Guest Coach Tutors were more than happy to be the recipients of those efforts.

By year-end, Amber thought she had experienced all the pleasures, pain, and joy that sexual relations could provide. She was oblivious that her upcoming senior year polishing would bring about other, hitherto, unimaginable ways to accomplish human emotional and carnal gratification.