The Birthday Gift

Before my recent retirement, I worked as a college professor of English at a small but expensive New England college. Most of the students at the college came from wealthy families.

I was a single man during the latter days of my professorship, since my wife of many years had died at the age of 49 of breast cancer, and at the age of 55 I lived alone in a nice old home by the river.

Since most of my time at home was spent reading and grading student essays, I didn't have time for much else other than a little reading for pleasure. But occasionally I would turn on the TV for diversion. That day I just happened to turn on the Oprah show.

What I heard absolutely shocked me to the core—as it did her regular audience—and the show was later to become quite famous and generate a lot of controversy.

The gist of the show was that oral sex performed by young girls on boys in high school and even middle school had become as common and ordinary as a handshake.

I could not believe it since I had grown up in an age when "good girls" did not do that sort of thing, and you were deemed extremely fortunate if you later had a wife who would do it. I did not.

And yet, most men if pressed would admit that they actually liked oral sex more than intercourse. I have always thought that oral sex, whether performed by a girl on a boy or a boy on a girl, was much more intimate than intercourse.

But here, it was referred to as "no big deal" and a good way for a girl to satisfy a boy without running the risk of getting pregnant.

The show even spoke of the "Rainbow Party", in which six or eight girls would wear different shades of lipstick, then perform oral sex on the same number of boys, leaving them with multi-colored rings around their rosie, so to speak.

Unbelieveable! Obviously I had been born too soon.

Finally, they referred to another way young girls had found to keep from getting pregnant. They could get their salad "tossed", which was a euphemism for engaging in anal sex—and yet still remain a virgin.

Unbelievable! And one of the most amazing things of all was that these girls did not come from the poorer neighborhoods—but more than likely from the wealthier enclaves. I began to wonder if this was really true or if it was just an "urban myth."

There was one way to find out. From Stacey. Maybe.

Every professor was allowed to have a student assistant or intern. Usually he or she was picked from the freshman class and presumably would stay with you all four years if he or she stayed in college. It was expected that you would pick one of your top students. That one in my case was freshman Stacey.

Stacey was just 18 years old and had come to our little college from a wealthy suburb of Boston. She was the ideal American girl: blonde, blue-eyed, a perfect figure, about five foot six and 110 pounds. Her father was a doctor, and her mother was a teacher. She worked at my office from 2-5 five days a week, but usually during the last hour there would be little to do, so we could just sit and talk.

"I have a question to ask you," I said on the day after the Oprah show.

"Okay."

"You don't have to answer it if you don't want."

"All right."

"Did you watch the Oprah show yesterday?"

"No, but I heard about it—and read about it in this morning's paper."

"About oral sex among high school girls."

"And middle school girls."

"Yes, and the Rainbow Party and Tossed Salad."

"Right."

"Is it true?"

"Is what part true?"

"Any of it."

She smiled. "Are you asking me if I did it?"

"I told you that you don't have to answer."

"I don't mind answering. Yes, it's all true. Most girls start doing it by the time they're in ninth grade. They find out it's an easy way to satisfy guys and to be popular. You don't have to take your clothes off, and you don't have to worry about getting pregnant."

"What does the girl get out of it?"

"Popularity."

"Amazing." I shook my head. "And did you---?"

"I was fifteen when I started."

"Is the Rainbow Party true?"

"I never saw one, but it's probably true."

"What about tossed salad?"

She smiled again. "I never experienced one, but I guess that's true too."

"Thank you. I appreciate your candor. I could hardly believe what I was hearing on the show, since when I was growing up, that was the hardest kind of sex to get."

"You know kids today. All boys want is to get a job."

"You mean a---"

One last smile. "A blowjob, right."

I thought no more of our conversation until the following week. My birthday was coming up on Thursday, and I was planning to do pretty much what I did every year—which was nothing, since I had no one to do it with. Little did I know how memorable a birthday it was going to be.

"Your birthday is coming up this week," Stacey said on Monday.

"How did you know that?"

"I read your college bio. As your student assistant, I should get you a nice present, but like most students, I don't have any money."

"I don't expect anything from you," I said. "No one notices my birthday."

"Still, I would like to give you something personal." She paused. "What would you think about the something we were talking about on Friday?"

"What something?"

"About the subject on Oprah."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed. "Professor Baxter, how would you like a nice delicious blowjob from a pretty college girl for your birthday?"

"You're kidding me, right?"

"I'm not kidding you. I wouldn't mind doing it—in fact, I think I would enjoy it. And I'm sure you would enjoy it. I'm very good at it. And since I'm already getting A's in your class, there's no question of a grades-for-sex kind of thing."

"You're right about that."

"Well?"

I thought about it. "I'm reminded of The Godfather. I think you've made me an offer I can't refuse."

"Good. Thursday then? Four o'clock, the last hour?"

"All right."

I knew it was the wrong thing to do, but I ask you---. Never mind, I know what you would have done.

And I did the same.

Thursday rolled around, as it always does. Stacey, dressed in her usual jeans and gray sweatshirt with the name of the college on it, showed up at two and went to work filing books, etc. for the first two hours without making any reference to The Birthday Present. I wondered if she had forgotten about it.

But promptly at four o'clock, she walked over to the door of my office, turned the bolt and pulled down the shade.

"Birthday time," she said as she turned with a smile.

"Is the present still the same?" I asked.

"Of course."

"Then I would like to add a little something to it. Since I'm sure the college would frown on this and probably fire me for it, I might as well expand the birthday package so to speak. So I wondered if you would be willing to do it in the nude."

She smiled. "I think I would be willing to do that." She crossed her arms and pulled the sweatshirt over her head. Her breasts seemed to be of average size, and she was wearing a white bra.

Then she pushed her sneakers off, unfastened her jeans, pushed them down to the floor and stepped out of them. She was wearing a small pair of yellow cotton bikini panties and white athletic socks. "Can I keep my socks on?" she asked. "This floor is cold."

"Of course."

She unfastened her bra and tossed it on the chair. Her breasts were small but perfectly formed, with puffy pink nipples.

Finally, she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and pushed them down until they were draped around her ankles. With a small tuft of golden blonde hair between her thighs, I could see that she was a real blonde.

"You're absolutely beautiful," I said, "The most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

She smiled.

"What should I do?" I asked.

"Well, I think the traditional method is for you to unzip and take it out—and for me to get on my knees. But I would like it better if you unfastened your pants and pushed them down along with your shorts."

"All right." I did what she asked, as she got down on her knees and scooted over to get right in front of me. Looking down, I could see that I already had the beginning of an erection.

"It's very pretty," she said, taking it in her hand. She looked up. "My technique is to give a very slow and thorough blow job, so I hope you're not subject to heart attacks?"

"No."

"Okay. I know guys like to have their balls sucked too, so that's what I start with."

She took my testicles in her mouth one at a time and gently sucked them. It took all the restraint I could manage to keep from shooting in her face. Finally, she stopped sucking my balls and kissed the swollen head of my penis. Then she slowly licked her tongue up and down the bottom of my penis. After doing that a number of times, she finally took my cock in her mouth, an inch at a time, swirling her tongue around it as she did so. Then she began to suck.

I couldn't stand it any longer. "I'm going to---!" I cried.

She nodded, and I did—shooting a huge load of cum into her mouth. Amazingly, she swallowed it all. Finally, she let my penis slip out of her mouth, and she looked up at me with a smile. A little rivulet of cum was coming out the right side of her mouth.

"Delicious," she said.

I felt so weak that I could hardly stand, so I found a reason not to. "But this seems so unfair," I said. "The man gets all the pleasure. Couldn't I do the same thing to you?"

"I would love that," she said as she sat back on the carpet, laid down and spread her legs.

I didn't need a second invitation for that. I got down on my knees and bent down between her thighs. I spread her lips with my thumbs and stuck my tongue inside. To my surprise, I found she was already wet.

"Oh Godddd," she muttered.

"You like that?"

"I love it. You can be my permanent boyfriend if you want. Most guys today still don't want to do it."

"I consider it an honor."

" As you probably can tell, I already had an orgasm," she said, "But I wouldn't mind having another."

Again, that was all the invitation I needed. She was so delicious that I went at her with fervor until she was moaning and trembling.

"Ahhhhhh!" she cried, as she had another orgasm. Thank goodness the door was locked, I thought. She was loud enough to be heard outside the office.

Finally, she sat up. "That was wonderful," she said. "You win the prize, mister. That was the BEST oral sex I have ever received."

"And what is the prize?"

She stood up, walked over to my desk, picked out some tissues from the box there and wiped herself. Then she turned. "Well, my mother insisted I be on the pill when I came to college. I haven't had sex with anyone since I got here. But how would you like to be the first man on campus to fuck me?"

"I would think I had died and gone to heaven."

"Then let's do it." She turned around and with one arm swept everything off my desk. It went crashing to the floor—to my utter delight.

"Take all your clothes off," she said. "If I'm naked, you're going to be naked."

"But I don't look as pretty as you."

"You look pretty good to me."

I looked down. I could see what she meant. My cock was hard again. So I did as she asked.

She sat on the desk, leaned back and brought her feet up to the edge of the desk. Since my chair was right between her thighs, I sat at it, leaned over and gave her another couple of licks.

"I'm going to come AGAIN if you keep that up," she said with a laugh.

"Then let's try this." I stood up.

Gently, I inserted my penis—but I guess I should call it a cock now—into her. But I didn't have to be all that gentle since she was already wet again. This time I was going to make it last as long as possible.

And that's what I did: slowly pumping in and out of her as she lay there with her eyes closed and moaned. "Fuckkkkk," she muttered.

"That's what I'm doing."

Finally, I came deep inside of her—and felt that she had another orgasm as well.

"God, that was the best birthday present I ever had," I said. Reluctantly, I pulled it out of her—and saw that it was wet and dripping.

She sat up and saw it as well. "There's one final service that we girls in high school like to perform as well," she said.

"Jesus, don't make be feel more guilty than I do. You're not in high school; you're in college."

With a laugh, she got on her knees, took my limp and dripping dick—and cleaned it all off with her tongue.

"If I thought I could get that in high school, I would be tempted to go back," I said.

She laughed again as she stood up. "I have an idea," she said.

"What's that?"

"Do you have any plans for lunch tomorrow?"

"No—why?"

"Well, it's still your birthday season, so why don't I provide the lunch."

"What did you have in mind?"

"A tossed salad."

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