tagNonConsent/ReluctanceStacy Moves to College

Stacy Moves to College


Well, today is the big day! Stacy thinks the moment she wakes up. She blinks her baby blues open to see the streaks of sunlight across her room. The walls are bare and all of her stuff is piled around the room in cardboard moving boxes. Today, Stacy moves out of her parent's house to begin college.

She stretches and hops out of bed. The smell of her mother's breakfast is prominent throughout the house. Stacy heads downstairs.

"Mornin' Stace!" Her mother, Bonnie, says cheerfully. Then, turning, she says, "I hope you have newer PJs for college..."

Bonnie remembers when her daughter was just a cute kid. Her good looks never faded, but her body had blossomed.

Stacy is standing at the threshold to the kitchen. At 18, she is tall and athletic. Her blonde hair falls over her shoulders in thick curls. She is wearing an old grey tank top that fit her some years ago, but now is worn and stretched. Her perky, large breasts sit high on her chest and bulge out like a shelf, obviously too heavy for the thin cotton. Stacy's prominent nipples announce that she is bra-less. Her chest holds the tank top up, showing several inches of her bare, toned stomach. Her long legs are shapely and firm, displayed nicely (although her mom doesn't think so) in the tiny pink boy-short style panties she wears.

She huffs, annoyed. "Of course, Mother! Gosh, you are so nosey today..."

Bonnie knows how important today is to her daughter, so she chalks her attitude up to nervousness. She turns back to breakfast as Al, Stacy's father enters the kitchen.

"You better not run around campus like that young lady." He says sternly, frowning in his disapproval.

Bonnie winces...

After a not so smooth morning, Stacy's move to college goes relatively well. Her Dad loaded the moving van and together, Stacy, her mother and her father drove to her new university. Once they arrived, some fraternity volunteers helped them unload as they pulled up. One particular guy, Greg, was extra helpful. Stacy later found out that he was the RA for the co-ed floor she lived on in her dorm and not part of the fraternity at all.

Stacy spent the next few hours arranging and rearranging her room, getting to know her roommates, and settling in. It seemed that everyone got along, which sort of surprised her. The three of them went out to dinner and met several other girls from their hall in the process. They of course met several guys from their hall. The whole day had been quite exciting. Stacy reveled in all the new possibilities in her life as she drifted off to sleep that night...

The urge to pee woke her a few hours later. Stacy groggily rises and leaves her roommates (someone is definitely snoring!) as she heads down the hall to the communal bathroom. Moments later, she is sitting on the toilet, relieving herself when she hears a crash from the hallway outside. Stacy looks around, hurries to finish, and cautiously pads down the hall barefoot to see what the commotion was. She sheepishly approaches the corner and peeks around.

Erin, one of the girls she had dinner with is standing in the entry of the hall with her hands on her hips. She is medium build, with long dirty-blonde hair and noticeable curves. After a second, Stacy thinks she looks a little drunk. Erin is talking to someone Stacy can't see.

"What do you mean, I.D.? I've been past you 100 times today." Erin says with a coy smile.

A male voice comes from behind the corner. "It's just protocol. Today is freshmen move-in day and I can't let anyone into the hall without their student ID."

Erin bounces up and down in a childish way, like some kind of mock-tantrum, though she is smiling slightly.

"Oh, come on! What would I be doing here? If you just let me past, I can get my student ID from my room!" She pouts.

"Look, I'm really not supposed to..." the male voice replies. Stacy still can't see who it is, but he must be very close to the corner because it sounds like he is right next to her.

"...but if you can convince me that you are telling the truth..."


It was the unmistakable sound of a zipper lowering. Stacy can't see what's happening on the other side of the wall.

Erin's eyes light up and she bounds over to where the voice was coming from, but stops, still in Stacy's line of sight. Suddenly, a long pink thing appears sticking out from behind the corner. Erin drops to her knees, looking up.

Oh my god, that's a dick! Stacy realizes as she claps her hands over her mouth.

"I knew I could convince you..." Erin says, still looking up. She opens her mouth and Stacy watches the stiff penis slide past Erin's lips. She begins to suck earnestly.

Stacy watches her work the faceless cock. Without noticing, her index finger is absently tracing over her own lips. Her other hand falls to find the curve of one of her large, round breasts.

Erin is enthusiastically servicing the long erection she has been presented with. Her head moves back and forth and her hair swishes with each stroke. She is cupping his balls with one hand and gripping the shaft with the other. Her high pitched giggles mix with the low moans coming from the other side of the wall.

The hand at Stacy's breast drops between her legs. The pink boy-shorts are wet to the touch between her legs. She shifts nervously and as her bare thighs rub together, she realizes she is practically dripping wet.

Fuck, what am I doing? Stacy looks around. The hallway is silent save the echoing of the slurping sound from the common room. She sighs and plunges her hand into her panties. As soon as she touches her clit, her knees almost buckle. Stacy tries to discreetly rub her slick, bare pussy, watching Erin's blowjob.

The moans turn to grunts as Erin picks up her pace. Her mouth and hand move back and forth and the wet, squishing sound somehow sounds wetter.

The grunts stop with an intake of breath. "Hold on..." the male voice says.

Greg steps out from behind the corner. His hand moves to take his hard shaft as he steps over Erin. Stacy watches in shock, recognizing him from earlier. She realizes he is holding a phone in his other hand. The double beep indicating the start of a video recording chirps from the phone.

Erin looks up at him drunkenly. "Whattareyou..."

Stacy sees Greg's hand pump his cock. He grunts loudly.

A white stream flies out in a strong jet. Most of it shoots over Erin, but the tail end lands across her face. She shrieks in surprise.

Stacy knows he is climaxing. This understanding brings a flood of pleasure as she works up to her own orgasm.

Greg giggles, still pumping. Another burst sprays out. He had adjusted his aim and this spurt is a direct hit.

"AAAHHH!" Erin cries, obviously slow to react. Her hands wave pathetically in the air. She doesn't seem to know exactly what to do.

He continues chuckling as he fires several wet strands across her face. Erin appears to have resolved to let him finish. Her eyes close and she smiles up at him, giving him a good target.

Stacy grips the corner of the wall as her own orgasm finally peaks. Her eyes go cross, then squeeze shut while wave after wave of pleasure overtakes her. She loses track of where she is or what she is doing, but somehow manages to keep silent.

When she snaps out of it, one hand is jammed into her panties and the other is roughly tweaking one of her pokey nipples over the tank top. Stacy looks around, seeing no one. Greg and Erin were still cleaning her up, so Stacy darts across the corner to the safety of the other side and hurries back to her room.

The next morning, Stacy remembers what happened and it seems almost like a dream. Greg seemed so nice earlier in the day, then acted like a total jerk with Erin. She thought about this while she prepared for her first college class. By the time Stacy is ready to leave, she has almost made sense of it. It didn't add up that Greg would have forced Erin to blow him. Erin seemed to understand that men became almost powerless with their dick in the hands (or other places) of young women. Stacy makes a mental note of this and heads out for English 101.

It is a gorgeous day with the sun shining brightly. She walks to class and immediately notices the lingering eyes of almost every male she passes. Its not very surprising: Stacy's looks smoking hot in her low cut tank top and short skirt. The top shows several inches of deep cleavage. Her long legs stretch out below the dress, complete with matching open toe-heels. Some of the stares make her blush. She reaches the classroom with a smile on her face.

Stacy pushes the door, but is halted when the door doesn't budge. She pushes again, then her face flushes when she reads the "PULL" stenciled on the door. She pulls the door open and quickly moves inside.

The door creaks a little as it closes behind her. Stacy looks in awe as she is in the rear of a rather large stadium style classroom. There about 15 steps that lead down to a raised stage. The stage has a podium, a rather large bench that ran almost half the stage and all sorts of hi tech teaching gadgets. The professor, who stands in front of the bench but beside, not behind the podium, has stopped and stares at Stacy. He looks as he himself is a college student. He is tall, maybe six foot something, Stacy couldn't tell because she is looking down at him but he is definitely hot. Longish brown hair, trim waist and.....

It was then that Stacy realizes that the classroom is full and everyone is staring at her. She knows she's in the correct room and she had planned on arriving 30 minutes early.

She glances at her watch. She is early but yet everyone else was seated, lap tops open, some taking written notes. She has no clue....

The professor suddenly addresses her.

"You," he bellows. Now everyone turns to look at her. Some of the students on the edge stand to get a better look.

Stacy feels so exposed standing there. She notices more than a few of the students in seats closest to the aisle have their heads completely turned and she knows that they are looking up her short skirt. Since their seats are on levels lower than the step she stands on, Stacy's short little skirt provides poor coverage of her shapely legs.

"You're late," he says and the room falls completely silent.

Fuck! "But, but, but I thought, I thought I was early," She stammers.

This brings more than a few giggles.

"First, my belated student, you don't think with your butt."

More laughter.

He proceeds, "Although your butt might cause a few thoughts."

Outright laughing and Stacy feels exposed and humiliated.

"Let me guess. You live where?"

She tells him.

"Ever hear of time zones?" he asks.

Then it dawns on her. She forgot to change her watch to the new time zone and that's why she was late.

"Ah, I see you now comprehend. Well come on, have a seat."

Stacy looks around but can't see any empty seats.

"I'm afraid you'll have to sit up in the dreaded from row, miss."

Stacy starts to walk down the steps and she passes more than a few male students making it obvious that they liked the view that was being presented to them. Stacy tries to walk slowly and deliberately, feeling her chest bounce with each step. She finally gets to the front row and has to squirm by three students to get to her seat.

She doesn't know and at this point doesn't care which of the three had run his hand up her skirt, feeling her inner thigh. She just wants to sit and not be the center of attention.

Dr. Barry had moves behind the podium, looking at something.

In a kind, quieter voice he says, "I've already taken attendance miss. You are...."

Stacy was busy opening her own laptop and didn't realize that the teacher was speaking to her until the boy beside her gently nudged her ample breasts with his elbow.

She turns to protest when she again feels everyone's eyes upon her.

"Miss," he says softly, almost patronizingly, "Who are you?"

"Oh, sorry, I'm Stacy, Stacy Orel."

He looks down at something and then says, "Today's not your day, Stacy Orel. It seems that your presence in this class is in doubt. I have a memo that states that upon the arrival of one Stacy Orel, I'm to direct her to Dean Dave's office. Immediately."

Stacy sits there in stunned silence. "Immediately," reiterates Dr. Barry.

Stacy gathers her stuff, slides by the three students again. The same hand runs up her thigh and she hustles on by, up the steps. She doesn't care that her breasts bounce uncontrollably. She doesn't care that the quickness of her steps cause her skirt to rise and fall, exposing her legs to those behind her. She doesn't care, she just wants out.

She finally gets to the top and pulls at the door. It doesn't budge. She pulls again with the same result.

"Fuck," She says and she remembers to pushed through the door.


She makes her way to the admissions building. There are lots of offices in the three storied building and Stacy finds Dean Dave's name on the directory. His office was on the third floor.

Stacy walks down a long corridor. Her heels click loudly on the tiled floor in the silence of the hallway. Finally, she comes to an office with frosted glass in the door with the name Dean R. Dave, Dean of Admissions stenciled in black ink.

She knocks softy and then enters.

There is an outer office with about 7 to 10 chairs placed around, presumably for people waiting to see the dean.

Stacy sees the glass partition and walked up to it. Sitting behind the glass is a very pretty brunette, with reading glasses resting on the tip of her cute nose. She does not look up at Stacy but pushes back her chair a bit, which is on rollers. The woman continues typing on her keypad.

Stacy notices that the woman, who she guessed was in her late twenties, is wearing a sports jacket with the college emblem sewn into the breast pocket. The jacket kind of pitched open because it can not contain the receptionists breasts, which seem to want to burst out of the confines of her blouse and jacket. Stacy then notices that the seated receptionist's skirt is riding high and barely covered the tops of her thighs. Stacy figures that if she dipped her head slightly, that she would discover the color and style of her panties.

"Stacy Orel?"

"Yes," replies Stacy.

"I'm glad that you're on time," she says and then she stands behind the partition.

Stacy notices the woman is slightly shorter than herself, but also very attractive.

"Turn around slowly," she says in a demanding voice.

"Huh," is all Stacy can say.

"This will go a lot quicker if you just obeyed, Ms. Orel. Turn slowly please, either direction but do it now." She made a circling motion with her finger.

Stacy turns very slowly and feels the receptionist's eyes on her.

"Good," she says and leans down to mark something with the pen she is holding.

"Now, lean forward at the waist."

Stacy hesitates and the glare that she got from the woman dissolves her hesitancy. She bends at the waist and then stands up straight.

"You'll do fine, have a seat, Ms. Orel. The dean will be with you shortly."

Stacy moves to a chair so that she faced the receptionist and sits. She looks around idly as the receptionist resumes typing. Five minutes later, a young coed comes out of the interior office door. The girl is cute, but she looks a little roughed-up. Stacy notices that she is buttoning her top blouse button and the blouse is only half tucked into her jeans. She goes to the window and mutters something.

"Every other week?" the coed asks. Stacy could see the receptionist nod and she distinctly heard her say, "Wear a skirt next visit. It will be much more convenient."

The coed just turns and Stacy sees her bright red lipstick is smeared sloppily. The girl whisks by Stacy, whispering, "Good luck."

The receptionist raps lightly on the glass to get Stay's attention and says, "You can go in now. Just stand in front of his desk."

"Okay," Stacy mutters, thinking this is really getting weird.


Stacy opens the door and it quietly shuts behind her as she enters. She sees a man sitting behind a rather ornate and large desk making notes in a folder. He looks to be in his mid thirties, black hair, good looking and fit. He puts the pen down and reaches for a different folder. After reading a few things, he looks up and says, "Ms. Stacy Orel, welcome to our humble college." He smiles broadly.

Stacy, feeling a little annoyed, blurts out, "What is this all about, dean?"

The dean says nothing but raises his hands and makes a bridge with his fingers. The broad smile is gone in a flash. His eyes move from Stacy's face, down her body. He seems to be examining her.

Feeling his eyes on her like a piece of meat causes her face to flush, though she has dressed this way to attract attention. Somehow, coming from the dean, it feels... strange. She knows he is a powerful man.

The dean's gaze returns to her face and he raises an eyebrow as if something has caught his attention. "Turn around, please. Slowly..." He instructs in an almost clinical tone.

Stacy, not sure what else to do, obeys. When she faces front, the dean is nodding with approval.

"We seem to have a problem, Ms. Orel. One that could be quite, umm, how should I put this, umm quite detrimental to not only your volleyball scholarship but your admittance to this fine institution."

"I don't understand," says Stacy. "What could be the problem?"

"Well, in your senior year, you had some sort of accident. Let me see, here, a right quad muscle, right."

Stacy thinks back to Dr. Long and how he gave her a clean bill of health, but only after he forced his rather large cock on her. It had worked out for Stacy, but hearing his name again brings a tinge of guilt.

"But that was all taken care of, by Dr. Long," protests Stacy.

"Yes, yes, you're quite right but you missed some school time and had to take a summer course to get enough credits to meet graduation requirements. Let me see, you took Modern Day Creative Writing."

"Yes, I did and I got and A," she states proudly.

"I see you did but there is minor problem. That course was never accredited. Your high school did not go through proper channels and the course is uncredited and therefore our fine institution doesn't recognize it. You can understand, Stacy, according to us, you never graduated high school. You falsified your admissions application. Now what should we do?"

Stacy couldn't believe what she was hearing. She stammers, in complete shock, "I... I... There must be some mistake..."

"We should send you home immediately. But then I'm afraid poor mommy and daddy will be deeply disappointed in their darling, beautiful, sexy daughter. Oh my. What shall we do?"

Dean Dave gets up from behind his desk and walks around it to where Stacy is standing. He stands close to her, very close.

"How's the quad, Stacy?"

"Fine," she whispers. She realizes she is holding her breath, but doesn't know why.

He walks behind her where she can't see him. She hears him draw a breath through his nose. He is standing very close to her.

Did he just smell me?

"I'm sure it is. Dr. Long is a fine physician and he gave an excellent report. Did you know that we went to the same medical school, Stacy?"

Stacy just shakes her head.

"Dr. Long, told me how your treatment went and how good of a patient you were."

At this, Stacy's face flushes again. Her hands nervously rub the fabric of her short skirt, wishing it was longer. Does the dean know I sucked his cock? Does he know I choked on his cum?

He circles her, moving very close. She can smell him now and something inside her likes the scent.

Dean Dave moves in front of her, looking into her eyes. "Show me your quad, Stacy. I want to see if there is any bruising."

"There wouldn't be any..."

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