The Little Grad Student Pt 02

Part 1 recalls the true story of how I met the little grad student at work, and our blissful first sexual experience. But as warm and affectionate as it was, I sensed something more was boiling beneath the surface. Was the cliché, "It's always the quiet ones" really true? I was going to take a risk to find out. I was hoping that this pretty little female academic might have a hidden penchant for sexual expression...

It was our fourth date, and tonight she was staying at my house. We went out to dinner, she looked adorable in jeans and a cute little T-shirt. We chatted about her mom, her academic program and her job prospects once she got her doctorate. We went back to my house and made out on the living room floor. I hadn't done that since I was a kid. It was fun, and she was so precious in her innocent little outfit.

Earlier in the week I decided to go out on a limb and buy her some sexy new underwear. A heavily padded push-up bra and some really sexy panties. This was presumptuous and even a bit risky.

She didn't like me opening her car door for her, even though she let me drive us around in her car. Apparently, it was acceptable for the man to drive, but not acceptable for him to hold the car door open for her. I noted this as a statement about her attitudes toward gender roles and a potentially feminist streak in her. I thought it may suggest a conservative attitude toward any highly-sexualized gender roles. But I also knew seeing her in sexy underwear would definitely be worth the risk. She was way sexier and alluring than she dressed. Her immersion into and passion during our first sex at her apartment was so powerful that it was obvious sexual currents ran deep with her. You couldn't tell by looking at her, but this little college girl loved sex. And anyway, she wore those cute little flowered sheer panties that first time. That wasn't a coincidence. There's another cliché that says, "If you undress a girl and she is wearing sexy underwear, it wasn't your decision to have sex that night, it was hers".

I went to the Frederick's of Hollywood store in the mall because they have the absolute best, massively padded push-up bras. They make a girl's tits look huge. I have a raging lingerie fetish, and a particular thing for push-up bras. The thought of seeing this demure little college girl with her tits pushed up in the air, swelling out the top of a satiny, smooth-cup heavily padded bra that added two full cup sizes made my cock throb.

A push-up bra is really a form of sexual bondage. The same with stockings and garter belts, although I wasn't going to press my luck that far. Yet. It sexualizes and displays a woman's most reproductive attributes. It makes her look conspicuously sexual. Women wear them to please men. To push their breasts up and out to attract more attention. To get fucked easier. It's a form of submission. Sexual servitude.

I wanted to see her in a black, heavily padded, shiny smooth satin, seamless, add-2-cup-size push-up bra. I wanted to see her little body with huge tits. Her creamy boobs boiling over the top of the bra cups, pushed up and out by the bra padding. And I wanted to see her in a little satiny black, slutty G-string panty or tight-fitting black, stretch lace, cheeky boy shorts with half of her ass hanging out and the stretch lace stretched snug against her delicious little bare pussy for me to eat. I wanted to see the frumpy-dressed little country girl I met at work dressed up like a promiscuous slut. Then I wanted to eat her, fuck her, cum in her, and then do it all over again until I was empty and spent and she was full of my cum.

I wanted her to ride my cock with her little G-string pulled to the side and her tits exploding out of the top of the padded push-up bra. I wanted to eat her pussy through the thin, black, stretch lace of her cheeky boy shorts that showed off her incredible ass. I wanted to see her dressed up like this, dressed to please me. The opposite of her nondescript, gender-neutral, politically correct, young feminist granola grad student frumpy look.

Then I would devote myself to worshipping her with the best sex I could give. All week I had been using a Fleshlight erection trainer to train myself to last longer. It was working. I could pump my dick in this thing for twenty minutes without coming. I wanted to last that long inside her, with her riding my cock, dressed like a little slut.

I wanted to temporarily sexualize and objectify her into a thing of pleasure and see her reaction. I wanted to make her a slut for the night. It might ignite those latent sexual aptitudes I sensed smoldering just barely beneath her surface during our first sex. Or, just the suggestion may offend and alienate her, making me look like an ass and probably sending her out the door. It was a risk, but it was worth the risk.

I walked into the Frederick's in the mall, went to the rack with the push-up bras. Frederick's has always had the best push-up bras. It had been quite a while since I bought a push-up bra for a girl, but I was an old hand at it, and I knew what I liked. Just going in there turned me on. I had also done some online product research beforehand on the Frederick's website, masturbating while I looked at the product pages for the Hollywood Knockout Push-Up Bra (Adds 2-Cup Sizes!).

The first night we had sex at her apartment I looked at the faded bra tag in her frumpy old bra to get her size while she was in the bathroom after we fucked. It was a 36B.

After sorting through hangers of padded push-up bras I had a boner but couldn't find anything in a 36B. I did come across a 32D padded push-up bra on the rack. Can you imagine that? A girl who was a 32D? Wearing an add-two-cup-size push-up bra? Holy shit. Just the thought made my cock got even harder.

The sales girl saw me searching and came over. She was a pretty little thing with long, dark hair dressed like a sales girl but obviously also modeling the store's wares under her white blouse. I instantly wondered what panties she was wearing under her skirt.

"What size are you looking for?"

"Ahh, 36B in the Hollywood Knockout, shiny black, if you have it."

The sales girl shuffled the bra hangers around, verified there were no 36Bs in shiny black on the rack, and went in the back.

I was turned on just being in Fredericks. There was a lull in mall foot traffic during the mid-morning and I was the only customer in the popular chain lingerie store. The place smelled feminine, and the racks of push-up bras, lacy thongs and big photos on the walls of bra-clad girls made my dick hard. The cute little sales girl didn't hurt either.

She came out of the back with a shiny black bra in her hand. She presented the heavily padded, molded cups to me with her hands holding the bra as if she were wearing it. It was hot. Fucking hot. It was obvious she was very good at selling lingerie to men for their wives and girlfriends.

But then came the kill shot.

"It's a 34C. It will actually work better."

The sales girl really said, "...work better". She knew exactly what I had in mind, and that was a turn on. The bra she was showing me would "work better" at making a girl's tits look bigger. "Work better" at boosting them up. "Work better" at making her look hot. "Work better" at getting me hard so I would fuck better. The 34C would... "work better", she said. The sales girl was helping make the little grad student into a slut for me, and that made my dick throb.

"Good", I silently thought but wanted to say out loud. "Because I want her to look like a slutty little whore dressed up for me to eat her pussy through her panties before she sucks my cock and I fuck her until I fill her with a huge cum load." I would have loved to say that out loud to the cute little sales girl with a straight face. She might have even been used to hearing language like that from some customers, but there was no way I had the courage to push my luck that far.

"Yes Sir..." The little sales girl would tell me. "This one should do the trick. It will make her creamy, young, college girl tits look huge for you. Make her look like a little slut ready to be fucked and let you cum in her mouth while she sucks you. This bra makes every girl into a little whore. Do you need some slutty little panties to go with it Sir?"

There was obviously no way for the sales girl to know this, but the best girlfriend I ever had was a 34C. Her tits were artwork. Perfection. Beautifully shaped, gorgeous big nipples, firm and high and soft to the touch. I loved her tits, and she knew it- and enjoyed it. She knew how to sit impaled on my cock for minutes on end and remove her bra perfectly. Slowly, demurely. Undoing it from behind her back, then holding the cups over her tits as if unwilling to reveal them. She would slip each arm out of the shoulder straps, switching hands to hold the bra cups over her sumptuous tits. Then, looking me right in the eyes, and slowly, slowly moving the bra cups away from herself to unveil those beautiful, perfect, 34C tits. Her perfect tits wouldn't move. Wouldn't fall a bit. Her tits were magnificently firm and high. We repeated this sexual theater almost every night of our two-year relationship. Her demurely removing her bra, it driving me crazy, me sucking her nipples, us fucking like mad. To this day, I lust after her magnificent, perfect 34C tits. Anytime I hear the magic words, "34C", I get a raging hard-on because of her.

When the sales girl holding the padded add-two-cup-size bra over her chest just spoke the words, "34C", my cock went rigid. There would definitely be pre-cum in my underwear when I got home.

Even though my idea posed the very real risk that inferring sexual servitude by wearing slutty little panties and a heavily padded push-up bra may alienate and offend the little college girl, it was worth the risk. Just the implied sexual theater with the little dark-haired sales girl in Frederick's had already been worth it.

But the real test would come when she opened the box from Frederick's, and that was going to happen in just a moment when we got upstairs to my bedroom and I gave her the little presents I got her.