Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Anal

The following story is based loosely on true events, but some details have been altered for the sake of this retelling.

*****

I only had one boyfriend during my entire time in high school. I loved him very deeply and he was the one I had sex with for the first time. We broke up during our sophomore year. For the rest of my time in high school, I never quite got over him and, although I had plenty of guys who were interested in dating me, I never accepted any of their offers. Then, during the first semester of my freshman year of college, I met a man in my introductory anthropology class. He was the first man who actually made me want to start dating again.

We met on the first day of class. I got to class about half an hour early, as was my habit. Because I was so early and I was the only one there, I took out the book I was reading at the time and began reading it. As I was sitting there, I heard the lecture hall door swing open and someone walk down the aisle between the rows of seats. The man came over and stood for a moment next to the seat next to mine. He looked around, not looking at me. After standing there for a moment awkwardly, he sat down next to me. He sat there for a moment or so before he turned to me and spoke.

“Do you… do you mind if I sit here?” he asked.

I looked up at him. I noticed that, despite his awkward demeanor, he was actually quite an attractive-looking man. He had short, black hair, glasses, and a prominent, masculine jawline. He was about average height for a man and clearly very fit. He was wearing a white, long-sleeved shirt and khaki pants.

“Well, you’ve already sat down and I haven’t stopped you,” I replied. “Might’ve been better if you’d asked before you sat down, though.”

“Of course. I’m sorry,” he said. He gave a slight cough.

We sat there for a moment, with him just staring off into empty space and me reading my book.

“What book are you reading there?” he asked, suddenly interrupting the silence. “I can’t read the title because it’s in… I’m assuming that’s Greek, right?”

“It’s The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel by Nikos Kazantzakis,” I replied, without looking up from the page I was reading. “And, yes, it’s in Greek.”

“What’s it about?” he asked.

I looked up at him. He was staring at me. I noticed he had the cutest blue eyes behind those nerdy glasses of his.

“The title’s pretty self-explanatory. It’s about Odysseus, the hero of the Odyssey, and his adventures. It picks up where the Odyssey left off. It’s been called Kazantzakis’s magnum opus. It’s considered a masterpiece of mid-twentieth-century Modernist literature. Strangely, though, despite the acclaim it’s received, it’s surprisingly obscure.”

“So how good is it?” he asked. “Does it live up to the hype?”

“Oh, the poetry is brilliant. The story is fanciful, but interesting. There are things that annoy me about it, though. For instance, the poem clearly isn’t set in the real Bronze Age, the portrayal of Odysseus isn’t even close to how he’s portrayed in the Odyssey, and the portrayal of women is far from progressive. It’s a bit slow in places too and he uses a lot of obscure words. Overall, though, it’s pretty good.”

“Sounds fascinating,” he replied. “I’m quite interested in classic literature myself. My favorite novel is The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky.”

I laughed and closed my book.

“Believe it or not, I still haven’t read anything by Dostoevsky. You’d think I would’ve, but I guess I just haven’t gotten around to it.”

“Oh, it’s all right,” he said, smiling. Even though he’d started out seeming kind of strange, I discovered I was starting to like him. I realized I was very attracted to him as well. While he wasn’t the stereotypical hunk and he seemed a bit awkward, he was really attractive in his own cute sort of way.

“My name’s Joseph Wisniewski, by the way,” he told me. “I’m a computer science major, but I’m interested in anthropology and I’m thinking about possibly doing a minor in it.”

He offered me his hand. I shook it.

“I’m Fereniki Alexandrou,” I told him. “I’m a history major.”

“I’m assuming you’re Greek?” he asked.

“Well, my Dad is from Greece,” I replied. “I’m assuming you’re Polish?”

“Yeah. No one can ever pronounce my name,” he chuckled.

“No one can ever pronounce mine either,” I told him, “which is funny because it’s actually pronounced just like it’s spelled. Lots of people try to pronounce it ”fee-REE-nai-kai,’ but it’s actually ‘feh-REH-nee-kee.'”

“It is a lovely name. It sounds exotic and sensual,” he remarked.

“It’s an ancient name. It means ‘Bearer of Victory.'”

“You know, you don’t look Greek, what with your blonde hair and blue eyes,” Joseph remarked. “You could pass as Scandinavian.”

“I get that a lot,” I admitted. “People tend to assume there’s a certain way people of each nationality ‘should’ look. For Greeks, everyone assumes we’re all black-haired, brown-eyed, and swarthy. london escort Some Greeks really do look like that, but not all of us.”

“So, what’s your favorite thing to read, Fereniki?” he asked, scooting closer to me. “I assume you don’t read massive works of Greek poetry all the time.”

I laughed.

“I really enjoy reading erotica,” I told him.

I watched the surprised grin that formed on his face as he registered what I’d just said.

“Oh really?” he asked, bemused. “I never took you for a dirty girl. You look so adorable and innocent. I would’ve assumed a cute little blonde like yourself would be the purest thing. I suppose that’s very wrong of me to assume.”

“Oh, I am a dirty girl, believe me,” I told him. “I especially enjoy classic erotica—like the really old stuff from before the twentieth century. It’s amazing how stuff written so long ago can still be arousing. It can also be amusing because many of the old erotica writers have this weird hang-up about using dirty words. They had no problem describing sexual acts, but the words—oh no, they could never use words like ‘fuck’ or ‘cock’ or ‘ass.’ John Clyland’s Fanny Hill is full of all kinds of wonderful filth: lesbian sex, prostitution, gay male sex, sadomasochism. You name it, it’s there. Yet, in spite of this, he never once even uses the word ‘penis,’ because that was, you know, wrong.”

We both laughed. He had the cutest laugh.

“You are so amazing,” he sighed. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Probably reading,” I replied with a grin.

“Probably reading smut,” he teased.

“Hey, that’s not all I read!”

“Oh, don’t feel ashamed,” he assured me. “Just about every guy I know spends all his time watching porn. A girl can get away with reading as much—what did you call it?—’classic erotica’ as she pleases.”

“Do you spend all your time watching porn?” I asked him, giving him a knowing look.

He grinned. Then he feigned as though he’d been shot.

“Oh, you’ve got me!” he exclaimed. We both giggled.

Suddenly, we heard the door to the classroom open. We both turned our heads to see a group of a few students walk in and sit down in the back row. Joseph quickly directed his attention back to me.

“Are you are freshman?” he asked.

“Yeah. What are you?”

“I’m a sophomore,” he replied.

“Ooh! A sophomore. Which lab section are you in?” I asked.

“I’m in the one that meets on Fridays at 3:00 in the afternoon.”

“Oh my gosh! We’re in the same one! We can be lab partners!” I exclaimed.

***

Joseph and I worked together for all the group activities and sat together for all the lectures. We made an awesome team. We were both extremely dedicated students and we both found the subject of the class fascinating. Joseph soon became my closest male friend.

I often found myself sexually fantasizing about him. One night I was lying there on my bed in my dorm wearing a white pajama shirt and pink pajama pants. I wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. My roommate was out and my head filled with all sorts of naughty thoughts. Suddenly, he popped into my head. I found myself imagining him naked, imagining his cock, imagining him putting his cock inside me, imagining him fucking me.

I slid my right hand into my pajama pants to feel my bald pussy. It was already soaked. Just thinking about him inside me was enough to make me horny. I stroked my pussy a few times and purred in delight at the sensation. While my right hand was busy stroking my pussy, my left hand reached up under my shirt to grope my right breast. Then I slid my middle and index fingers of my right hand into my opening, imagining that they were Joseph’s cock. I moaned at the sensation of them inside me.

I brought my right hand up from my pussy to my mouth. I slipped my middle and index fingers between my lips. I tasted them, licking them inside my mouth with my tongue, relishing the sweet taste of my own juices. I returned my saliva-coated fingers to my pussy and brought them to my clit, which I began to stroke—slowly at first, but then faster. I brought my left hand to my pussy as well. Still stroking my clit with my right hand, I slid first my middle finger, then my right finger into my pussy, then both. I began thrusting in and out with those two fingers, fucking myself, still pretending my fingers were Joseph’s cock.

Still furiously strumming my clit with my right hand, I withdrew my fingers from my vagina and brought them to my ass. I followed the same pattern as I had when I slid my fingers into my pussy. First, I slid my middle finger into my ass, then my index finger, then both. Having two fingers buried in my ass while I played with my clit felt amazing. I soon found myself coming hard. I cried out as I came.

Once I came down from my orgasmic high, I relaxed and slowly drifted off to sleep. That night, I dreamt of Joseph fucking me in my bed in my dorm room. I dreamt of him fucking my in my pussy, in mouth, and in my ass.

That Escort Dubai was not the last time I masturbated thinking about Joseph. After that, I masturbated thinking about him almost every time I was alone in my dorm room without my roommate. In my all fantasies, he was always unbelievably hot and unbelievably skilled in bed.

***

My attraction to Joseph went much deeper than a mere superficial attraction to his appearance, though; I’d been asked out by plenty of men who were far more physically attractive than he was and I’d turned them all down. There was something about Joseph’s personality that I just couldn’t get over. He had a sort of unique charisma that I didn’t expect from such a usually quiet man.

Even though he often seemed timid, I discovered he was really brave. For instance, there was this one time in our lab section when we were working on a project about the early Australopithecines and the lab instructor, who was a first-year grad student, incorrectly referred to Australopithecus afarensis as “the first hominin.”

“That line about Australopithecus afarensis being ‘the first hominin’ isn’t right,” I whispered to Joseph after the instructor finished lecturing and we broke into groups for a lab activity. “Chimpanzees are hominins too, so the last common ancestor of humans and chimpanzees would be a hominin and that was millions of years before Australopithecus.”

“You’re right; he’s wrong. And he’s a grad student, so he should know better than to say things like that,” Joseph muttered. “The textbook for this class even talks about earlier hominins at length.”

“Well, we can’t just go up there and correct the teacher,” I whispered, shrugging it off. “He’d probably get mad and give us bad grades for everything.” Joseph didn’t respond.

We moved on with the lab activity, which involved making cladograms based on replica fossil skulls. I forgot about the instructor’s error and I assumed Joseph forgot about it too. Then, after we had all finished the lab, when all the other students had left, Joseph stayed behind in the classroom. I stayed behind with him and watched as he quietly went up to the instructor.

“I hope you don’t mind me pointing this out, but what you said about Australopithecus afarensis being ‘the first hominin’ is incorrect,” he said with surprising confidence. “There are, in fact, numerous hominins that have been discovered that predate Australopithecus afarensis, such as Ardipithecus ramidus, Orrorin tugenensis, and Sahelanthropus tchadensis. These hominins are even mentioned in the textbook.”

The instructor looked embarrassed.

“I’m mainly a cultural anthropologist. Human evolution isn’t my specialty,” the instructor admitted.

Joseph and I left the classroom and headed down the hall together. After we were safely out of earshot of the instructor, I instantly expressed my amazement at his courage.

“Holy shit!” I gasped in a half-whisper. “You just corrected the instructor!”

“Well, I figured someone had to.”

***

Towards the end of the semester, in around late November or early December, Joseph and I began regularly meeting up at his apartment to study. We’d meet maybe once or twice a week for a few hours and go over material. The reason why we’d meet in his apartment rather than in my dorm was because his apartment was so much nicer than my dorm. My dorm was in this crappy, run-down building that was around seventy years old and had never been renovated. His apartment, on the other hand, was newly refurbished. Also, unlike me, he didn’t have a roommate, so, when we were there together, we had the whole place to ourselves.

His apartment was small, but cozy. There was a short entry hallway and then a room that was both the living room and the kitchen. The kitchen was off to the right side and there were two doors on the left side, one of them presumably leading to his bedroom and bathroom and the other to a closet. A white couch stood in the middle of the living room. It had a couple of pillows on it and a low white table in front of it.

There was a window behind the couch, but, since we were usually there at night, the white curtains were usually closed, covering it up. A lamp stood behind the couch and slightly behind it, illuminating the room. Usually, when we studied together, we’d sit together on the couch and put our books and papers on the table.

One evening in late December, not long before the end of the semester, as we were sitting there studying together, I asked him, “So, is there a reason why you haven’t asked me out yet?”

Joseph looked stunned.

“I… uh…,” he stammered.

“It’s obvious you’re into me and it’s obvious I’m into you,” I explained. “We’ve been seeing each other for weeks now. I don’t have a boyfriend. You obviously don’t have a girlfriend because, if you did, I’d know about her. Why haven’t you asked me out?”

Joseph heaved a sigh.

“Fereniki, you’re my only real friend. I’ve been afraid this independent escort girls whole time that, if I asked you out, you wouldn’t want to be with me and you’d walk out on our friendship. I don’t want to lose you. Also, I’m not very experienced at dating and… I don’t know. I guess I’m afraid I’d mess up.”

“Have you ever had a girlfriend before?” I asked him.

He bit his lip nervously.

“I’ve only had one. I met her at the beginning of last semester. She ditched me after only a week.”

I frowned.

“Oh wow, that’s actually kind of sad. I’m sorry. Is there a reason for that?” I asked.

“She didn’t even give me an explanation. She just told me, ‘It’s over.’ Then she left and I never saw her again,” he said, scratching his head. “I’ve been told I’m kind of awkward around girls. I guess maybe she didn’t like my awkwardness.”

“You are awkward, but it’s your awkwardness that makes you who you are. I find it rather charming, honestly. Besides, there’s a lot more to you than just awkwardness. You’re also smart and sweet. You know, you’re actually one of the best guys I’ve ever met.”

“Well, I guess, since you’re clearly on board, we can give this whole ‘dating’ thing a try,” he grinned.

“Great!” I said with a grin. “We’ll have our first date tomorrow.”

“What? Where?” he asked.

“Oh, relax,” I told him. “There’s no pressure. We’ll start out small. We’ll just meet here like we always do. Just because we’re calling it a ‘date’ doesn’t mean it has to be all scary and everything.”

***

The next day as I was preparing for my date, I put more effort than usual into my appearance. I was determined to get Joseph to have sex with me, so I wanted to make myself look seductive without making myself look like I was trying to look seductive. I picked out my wardrobe very carefully. I put on a pair of tight, light blue jeans and a white blouse. I spent half an hour doing my makeup to make sure it was just right. (I normally only spend about fifteen minutes.)

As I prepared to leave my dorm, I put on a pair of black leather boots that came up to my mid-calves and a black, long-sleeved leather jacket, which I left unzipped. I stowed a few things in my black purse and slung it over my shoulder as I walked out the door. I made sure to lock it before I headed down the hall and out to the courtyard. I knew the way to Joseph’s apartment by heart because I had been there so many times before. This time, though, walking there felt different. I knew something big was going to happen. I could just feel it in my bones.

I walked for quite a while, but it was such a nice day that I didn’t mind. I loved the feeling of the cool breeze as it bristled past every so often, ruffling my blouse and my long, blonde hair. There were lots of people out walking and, as I was walking, I occasionally caught men checking me out. I looked down and noticed that my blouse was a little bit tighter and showed a little bit more cleavage than I’d thought it did.

I could feel myself growing horny with anticipation. By the time I reached his apartment door, I was feeling very aroused and ready for a long night of fucking.

I knocked on the door. Joseph opened it. I immediately threw my arms around him, giggling. He squealed in surprise.

“At least warn me before you do that!” he exclaimed. Pretty soon he was giggling too, though. We shut the door and Joseph locked it.

“So, boyfriend,” I asked, sitting down on his couch in my usual seat, “what do you want to do on our first date?”

Joseph sat down next to me in his usual seat.

“Well, uh, I don’t know. I guess we can do boyfriend/girlfriend stuff together now, can’t we?” he stammered.

“By ‘boyfriend/girlfriend stuff’ I assume you mean ‘sex’?” I asked, grinning knowingly.

He suddenly looked nervous.

“Uh, yeah… sex and… you know, other stuff,” he muttered, stumbling over his words.

“Relax,” I told him. “There’s nothing scary about sex. You have had sex before, right?”

“I’ve had it twice. Both times with my previous girlfriend,” he explained.

“Well, I don’t see what you have to worry about, then,” I declared. “You and I are comfortable with each other. We’ve both had it before, so we both know what we’re doing. Besides, any sex with you will be great. I just know it.”

He grinned like a schoolboy.

“Really?” he asked. “I’m so amazed you think—”

I giggled, leaned forwards, and kissed him on the lips. It was only a soft peck, but, when I pulled away and looked at his face, I saw he was ecstatic. He lunged forwards, grabbing my face in my hands and kissed me much more forcefully than I had kissed him. Without breaking the kiss, I climbed on top of him, straddling him between my legs. Soon we were making out all over each other.

As we kissed, I could feel myself growing more and more aroused by the second. My pussy was getting so wet that I could feel my juices soaking through my panties and even through my jeans. My right hand reached down to feel his groin and I felt a massive lump in his pants that indicated he had a very large hard-on.

“Well, someone’s excited,” I whispered, breaking off the kiss. He reached down and felt the wet spot between my legs.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32