White Freshman, Black Coeds Ch. 09

If you've just joined the series here, know that it's a slow burn, more Romance than Porn. It's somewhat autobiographical, and I'm trying to keep it fairly realistic, things that *might* have happened to a shy 18yo guy as he matured sexually, but admittedly in a hyper-sexual environment.

Rita let us lay like that for an indeterminable (to me) amount of time. Me on my back, exhausted, spent, drowsy, Nia's right hand still wrapped around my penis through the boxers, her head on my chest, my right arm around her back, hand on her shoulder, left hand gently running fingers through her hair. Her legs intertwined with my right, my left calf sandwiched between her graceful calves.

Perfect bliss. Had we known a meteor was about to strike the hotel we probably wouldn't have moved. I want to die just like this, with you.

But all good things must come to an end, and Rita cleared her throat, somewhat startling me awake (and I think Nia too) and out of my revery.

"Alright, Romeo & Juliet, rouse yourselves and let's talk about what you just experienced."

Nia moved first of course, letting go of my manhood, wiping her hand on the lower part of my shorts. As she rose she must've noticed a bit of drool on my chest, which she self-consciously wiped away. Once she cleared me I was able to sit up, Rita passing me a hand towel to cover my shorts.

With Nia and I sitting side-by-side on the edge of the bed, legs and torsos touching, holding hands again, Rita asked us to describe in one word how we felt about the orgasms we'd each just had, back and forth:

"Fantastic." "Intense." "Soul-moving." "Bonding." "Connecting." "Explosive." "Caring." "Tender." "Thebestthingever!" The last one was Nia, cheating 4 words into one.

"Excellent! Do either of you feel any shame about what you've done?"

Nia and I looked at each other, and I didn't see any shame or guilt in her eyes or expression, nor did I think there was any in mine. We both turned back toward Rita with shy smiles and timid, "Nopes." We simultaneously squeezed each other's hand.

"Good, and you shouldn't! What I saw was two lovely young people doing what comes naturally, perhaps what God intended them to do with their bodies. But there was an extra intensity, wasn't there?" Nods.

"Mark, I know you felt it. Can you describe to Nia what you felt in that moment, and as you lay together afterwards?"

I won't bother you with my dialogue, because much of it was halting, even incoherent, but I tried to describe to her all the feelings I expounded at the end of the last chapter. The doubt in my ability to please a woman (she blushed at 'woman'), some doubt in my ability to perform with one, the relief when it all worked out, the infinite tenderness I felt toward her, the sort of cosmic connection, and the idea that I could've died in her arms like that and been utterly content.

I tried to leave out any notion of 'love' per se, because I knew that was probably just my emotions and hormones running high, and I didn't want to scare her away. Or worse, confess it or something just short of it, only to find that it wasn't reciprocated.

"Very good, I thought you probably felt those things. It's natural and healthy, and really beautiful."

"Nia, how did you feel? Both when you were the receiver and the giver. Do you echo many of Mark's feelings, or want to share any different ones of your own?"

Nia agreed with everything I said, and her manner, her tone, her looks at me, led me to believe that she shared some of the depth of feelings I had for her. That if it wasn't truly love, it wasn't just lust either. She compared this experience with those she'd had in the past with boys, those who hadn't really known her much, who weren't interested in giving her pleasure, but were mainly interested in just pawing at her, playing with her like a toy. In short, in getting themselves off without regard for her pleasure or feelings.

"Excellent! I'd hoped one of you would bring that idea up, that comparison. Because right? When you feel a real attraction to someone, to their mind, to their desires, to their needs, and not just to their private parts, then the lovemaking is infused with so much more meaning, isn't it?"

We both agreed, me thinking back to when my foster sister had me pawing at her, trying to satisfy only her needs, with no thought to my feelings or desires. Just assuming I was a boy, so of course I'd go along.

But I wasn't wired like that, I couldn't do it like that, anonymous and purely sexual. This though, this connection that Rita had so intricately woven between Nia and I, this is what I needed for it to be meaningful to me.

I told Rita and Nia that in so many words, tearing up as I did. (I've always teared up easily, eyes getting watery, that tickling pain in the bridge of the nose.) Nia reached around with both arms and gave me a strong, long hug, which I returned. And Rita is uncanny in her ability to read people, because when even I was thinking, Okay, we should probably break this off, she spoke up.

"Lovely, you two are so good together! I'm really enjoying watching you blossom in your confidence and your sexuality. But Mark, off to the shower with you now! Just throw your shorts in the trash, I brought you some new ones. Get yourself nice and clean and smelling good for your lover; there's a toiletries kit for you with some necessities."

I'm surprised by Rita's preparations, but then realized that she knew all along she was going to bring me back here! Or had a pretty good idea she was, and the 'interview' was mostly a ruse, maybe just to keep me guessing? Candace probably had a large part to do with that, artfully 'selling' Rita on me, talking up my good points, that she wouldn't be disappointed, etc. That thought made me proud of myself.

But whatever Candace's role, or whatever the reason for Rita's trust in me (was it intuition?), I was glad they'd brought me to this place and time where I was blessed with getting to know Nia like this. Which then had me wondering, Just how many times has Rita done this? She said she was doing research for her Master's degree, after all. And with interracial couples, no less!

But with a, "Go, go, go," I was shooed off to the shower. Forgetting all those previous thoughts, I kissed Nia on the lips (it seemed like the right thing to do) and headed to the shower.

"No need to close the door," is called after me. And you know what? I'm not even embarrassed by that, though I would've been just the day before. I find the toiletries kit with shampoo and a bar of soap, ditch the boxers, and hop into the shower.

I've cleaned up down there and soaped all over and am shampooing my hair, eyes closed, when I hear the shower door slide open. Peeking with one eye (I hate getting soap in my eyes), I see Nia stepping in, looking bashful yet playful.

In almost a whisper, "Miss Rita said I should come join you, since I need to shower too, and it would be fun for us." Giggles as she closes the glass door behind her.

How exciting, my little Nia joining me in the shower! But then I wondered what we were 'allowed' to do in here alone together, and I must've backed away from Nia when she approached me.

"It's okay, Rita said we could soap each other up and....touch each other all over, except the genitals."

I think I said, "Woo hoo!" And my hands, still soapy from shampooing my hair, went straight to her small breasts, covering them, rotating atop them, doing circles around them, soaping them up. Then as my fingers were about to directly engage her nipples, I thought to ask, pausing mid-motion, "Is this alright, Nia?"

"Yes, silly! I like it, it feels wonderful."

Then as my hands continued their play, both nipples between thumbs and forefingers, "I'm glad you like them." Pause. "I'm glad you like me."

That stopped me in my tracks and made me abruptly stop thinking about her sexually, but as a person, maybe a timid little girl who had been looking for acceptance, the same as I was, and it made me feel guilty for 'attacking' her breasts as I'd done, though I'd meant no harm.

I had an upwelling of tenderness for her, that urge to protect her and never let her get hurt; certainly never get hurt by me. So I instinctually grabbed her face in both hands, still somewhat soapy, and looked into her eyes, saying all the sorts of things that by now you'd expect me to say about respect and gratitude and tenderness. And then I kissed her, just gently on the lips.

She broke off the kiss rather abruptly and pushed herself into my chest and body, folding herself into my arms, which I squeezed about her as tightly as I dared. I thought she was crying but didn't want to ask or even mention it. I just held her until she lessened her grip on me.

Then she looked up at me, tears definitely in her eyes, and mouthed/whispered, "Thank you."

My heart just melted and I fell head-over-heels for this girl. We went back to the hug, but after a time I gently turned her around, enveloping her from behind, my hands clasped across her stomach, her bottom pressed into my upper thighs. I just held her like that, the hot water cascading over us, and whispered sweet nothings into her hair and ears, kissing the sides of her face at times.

You may wonder how my phallus wasn't in the way between her and me; it was because this wasn't a sexual moment. I wasn't thinking of having sex with this girl, my Nia, I was only thinking how I could make her feel accepted, wanted, safe, protected, even loved. It was a powerful moment for me, and I think for her too.

But after she'd had enough of that (and I could tell she'd been enjoying it by the way she pressed herself into me, wrapping her arms over mine, murmuring and purring), she slowly disengaged and told me to turn around so she could wash my back. She did a thorough job on my back and legs, spending longer than probably necessary on my butt, which in later years I was told by women was cute.

After she rinsed me off I told her it was her turn, so I traded places with her, putting her under the showerhead, facing the gentle spray, then soaping up her back. But of course I had to get her bottom too, as she'd done mine, and the backs of her legs, and here I started becoming sexually interested in her again. It's only natural, right?

So with her back covered in soap, I freshened up the lather in my hands and began to soap up that beautiful little bottom. Ohmygosh, it was divine! More so because I could actually touch it, put my hands on it. Which I hadn't done yet, with her or anyone. And much as I liked any kind of breasts, of course I liked most any kind of butts.

Hers was smallish, taut, smooth, firm, and somewhat protruding, not flat like the "white girl aesthetic." It felt magical under my hands, yielding to pressure, yet firm and springy, like those red rubber balls we used to play dodgeball with in PE. I'd occasionally run my hands up the full length of her back on both sides, massaging the tops of her shoulders, then quickly back down for more work on that butt of hers. Needless to say, Mr. Willie was becoming interested.

On my second trip up and back down, Nia spread her legs a little wider, indicating (I guess?) that I should wash back there more thoroughly. I took the hint and while moving my palms down both globes of her ass, pushed the thumbs a little deeper into the crevice between. That elicited a low moan and a further widening of her stance.

Realizing that with her being so short, and my wrists being at an uncomfortable angle when I hadn't even reached the bottom of her butt with the "palms down" technique, I decided to kneel behind her. And that gave me a glorious view of that beautiful rump, eye-level when I squatted back on my heels.

I must've let out an appreciative sound, because Nia asked, "You like it that much?"

After hearing a "Heck yeah!" from me, Nia stood up on her tippy-toes and tensed her legs and butt, and oh my God, if I hadn't just come earlier, I might've then. Graceful-yet-sculpted calves, the hamstrings standing out on the backs of her legs, her quads defined out to the sides, then that incredible butt, tightened and lifted now into a nearly perfect ball, the crevice between tightly sealed by her powerful glutes.

I thought she'd mentioned before being a dancer, so I asked and she confirmed it. Asking her to hold that pose, I re-lathered my hands, and starting at her ankles with a firm grip, slid them up her long, graceful-yet-muscular legs. Over the firm calves with 'edges' on both sides, through the hollows of the backs of her knees, then onto the lower thighs, which only slightly thickened as I moved up.

Then to that place my eyes had first locked onto: where her glutes, the globes, the cheeks, emerged nearly perpendicularly from the tops of her thighs. With my hands flat against the backs of her upper thighs and slightly wrapping around them, that crescent between index finger tip and thumb tip fitted exactly into the place where those firm hemispheres abruptly attached to her legs.

Further upward motion was impossible without disengaging the webs of my hands from the overhang, and I spent some time there pushing, gauging, analyzing the firmness of her butt, much as I'd done earlier with her one breast. It was amazing, so taut, so firm, that though I might push up enough to lift her from her toes, those cheeks hardly deformed. Magical.

I think I actually said, "Wow," as I reluctantly disengaged, allowing my hands to roam up and over the wondrous protrusions, then stood, administering a light smack on the right cheek as I did.

Nia mock-protested a "Hey!" Then she relaxed and settled down onto her heels, hands still planted against the front wall of the shower, looked back at me over her shoulder and asked, "I take it you liked that?"

Whatever I might've said, I don't actually remember, I showed her how much I 'liked that' by impulsively moving behind her, bending at the knees, and planting my now-hard dick right between her soapy butt cheeks, grabbing her breasts with both hands, then standing, causing it to slide up through that wonderful place, until it emerged out the top, trapped between my stomach and her lower back.

"Mark!? I think that might be too much genitals..."

"Sorry, I couldn't help it! It's just so beautiful, and ever since I saw it I wanted to do that!"

"Well that's alright, just hold me like this," as she lowered her arms over mine, reaching around to touch my sides and hold me there. I bent my head down and nuzzled into the side of her neck, breathing her in, feeling her skin in the so many places where it touched mine. We stood there in the warm spray, swaying, whispering, giggling, becoming physically closer, melding.

Then the bathroom lights flashed three times and we simultaneously looked behind us toward the door to see Rita, hand still on the switch, an amused aren't they cute look on her face.

"Alright, my little lovers, time to get out now."

"Awwwwww...!" "Do we have to...?" But these and similar pleadings failed to sway Rita.

But there was a change in Rita: she'd changed into a silky white form-fitting nightgown. With no bra, as I could quite clearly see her rather large nipples protruding through the fabric, with plenty of cleavage showing above.

Its white spaghetti straps were pulled taut over her very dark shoulders, helping hold the weight of her chest. The gown was tightly gathered beneath her globular breasts, so that with no bra, the gown and straps had to hold them up and in on their own.

The gown remained form-fit over her abdomen, revealing hints of the toned stomach muscles below, ending in a gathered waistband atop her high hip line, then flaring out over her hourglass hips, ending mid-thigh. As Scooby-Doo might've said in a similar situation, "Rurr?"

I knew Rita was "stacked," that was clearly evident under and through her stuffy clothes earlier, but that was a thick, padded affair which hid much of the mahogany sculpture beneath. Nia had reached for a towel first and was standing apart from me in the large shower drying herself, while I started to do the same, glancing furtively at Rita's nipples.

Until thankfully she turned to leave, removing that temptation. But introducing a new one as she stepped away: her large, firm butt. While glancing (okay, staring) at that I became aware that Nia had stopped moving mid-drying and was looking at me in the full length mirror across the opposite wall of the bathroom!

"You are a naughty boy, Mark Livingston! What am I going to do with you?"

"What do you want to do with me, sweetheart?" That elicited a blush and a turning-away.

"I'm sorry, Nia. I'm a guy and I'm attracted to pretty women, and Rita is quite pretty. Not as pretty as you, of course!" As I went in for a peck on the crook of her neck.

"You're attracted to pretty black women, you mean," she said playfully, not-so-lightly punching my arm.

Rurr? Just how much does Nia know about me? Maybe she just said that because Rita studies IR couples.

"Don't worry, I don't mind. I even find it exciting and sexy that you like black girls. You didn't grow up around many, and you'd never seen any like this," opening her towel with both arms straight out, striking a sexy pose, hip cocked to one side, "so I get it."

With a big sheepish grin, and probably blushing, "You got me, I'm busted!"

Then I dropped my own towel and scooped her up in my arms, her arms still outstretched, our now-dry skins hot and soft and hydrated smashed together between us as I plant a wet, open-mouthed kiss on her. She responded back immediately, and we passionately made out, standing there in the middle of the bathroom.

Impulsively I bounced her up in my arms, catching her with both hands under her bottom, as we continued to make out, her breasts and nipples grazing my chest in a maddening way. I had the crazy idea of setting her down on the edge of the sink counter and diving into that sweet pussy with my tongue, but was interrupted by Rita:

"Hey, hey, what's going on in there?! You guys should be dry and out by now!"

I didn't know this until much later, but Rita had positioned herself on the foot of the farthest bed where she could see into the bathroom via the full-length mirror at the foot of the nearer bed: her, to mirror, to bathroom mirror, to everything going on in there.

I set Nia down with one last peck on the lips, and wrapping towels around us, we went out to Rita. With sheepish grins.

"Was that exciting, my young lovers, showering together, exploring each other further?"

Rhetorical of course, but we both answered yes, with much giggling and sidelong glances at each other.

"Alright, it's late and we should get some sleep, because tomorrow we have further lessons. That is, if you don't mind missing some of your Monday classes?" Head shakes from us, we don't mind.

"Good. I have the room until 2, and next is pleasuring each other with your hands, as you did before, but without clothing in the way."

Nia made an inarticulate sound at that, one I took to connote anticipation of pleasure.

"And if you both want to, we'll finish with oral pleasuring of your partner."

At the 'both', Rita had looked directly at me, with a bit of a raised eyebrow. A question, maybe an out?

And in that instant it dawned on me just how much Candace had shared with Rita. In a word: everything. Because there was between Candace and Keisha and I the unfinished business of the oral lesson. The one they were supposed to have given me. The one they would have given me if not for the country-club thing.