Once upon a time I was a college student. That was back in the era of peace, love, and rock and roll. Love was, of course, "free" in those days, but I don't want to get ahead of my story. My senior year I lived off campus. I'd put up with dorm life for three years which was long enough. Colleges felt the need to keep tabs on students who lived in their dorms, but I'd chaffed under their "in loco parentis" policy. As soon as I was a senior, I found a place to share with a couple of buddies, and my girlfriend, Kara, got an apartment that year with, Joyce, a friend of hers.
I'd met Kara a year ago in a conducting class. I was getting a degree in music education, not because I had such a burning desire to teach, but mainly because I had a burning desire to avoid being sent into the thick of the Vietnam War right after graduation. Teachers could get draft deferments. Kara, however, was a full-bore performance major in piano.
I was okay on the piano, but my instrument was the classical guitar. Since most guitars were electric, I sometimes felt a bit lonely. I didn't get gigs playing with groups in bars. My prospects for making millions as a rock and roll star were nil, but I enjoyed playing. Sometimes I'd just lose myself in the music for hours.
Kara and I hit it off from the first. She was a blue-eyed, blond farm girl who was fit and tanned from her love of the outdoors. She was tall for a girl — just under six feet. Still, I had a lanky couple of inches on her. Although I may have looked like someone who played basketball, I'd never had much enthusiasm (or ability) for the sport. I was one of the band geeks through high school. And no, I didn't march the guitar. I was an indifferent baritone player.
Anyway, in the conducting class the instructor paired us up for mutual critiquing. Kara's first observation about me was that I looked as if I was trying to swat flies. She poked my pride, but what really hurt was that it was so funny, I couldn't help but laugh. That set the pattern. Her sense of humor just cracked me up.
We became study partners in that class, and, after a couple of casual dates, a couple. For our first real date, I took her to see Easy Rider. It wasn't the type of movie that either of us would have chosen on our own, but her Popular Culture prof had assigned a critique. We stayed for a second showing, and still weren't all that enthused. I offered her a few thoughts of my own which she said she used, but she was satisfied with the B she got.
I remember that particular date because we kissed for the first time. On the walk back from Lot 6, the student parking lot which located a convenient mile or so from campus, we held hands. I was totally smitten by this time, but I also didn't want to ruin things by pushing her too fast. Kara settled that nicely by pushing me up beside one of the big oak trees lining the walk where she kissed me thoroughly.
Neither Kara or I had had much experience with sex, but we got the essentials figured out pretty quickly. Kara had no hesitation in trying out anything she'd heard about and enough creativity to make it exciting. At my age and level of experience, just seeing a naked woman made it plenty exciting. However, we lived on campus that year, and opportunities for anything more than a grope in a dark corner of the library were few and far between.
All of that changed for the better our senior year. Josh, a friend from my home town, and I found an apartment about a mile and a half from campus — not exactly convenient, but not exactly expensive either. In many ways it was just another student housing zone with lots of parties, noise, and other annoyances.
Kara did much better. She was able to find a decent apartment on a quiet dead end street about five blocks from campus. A fair number of the other residents were grad students, many of whom were married. All in all it was a lot quieter place (discounting the hippopotamus tap dance troop which lived upstairs for just three weeks at the start of fall term).
Kara's roommate, Joyce, was a dark-haired beauty and a free spirit. She was smaller than Kara, and as a dance major, she was fit from top to bottom to toes. She had been in cross country, track, and gymnastics in high school but had studied dance on the side. Once at college, she'd decided she wanted to make a career of it. Dance majors at BU (which stands for Big University just in case you were reading too much into that) had most of their classes in the Music & Arts building which is where she got to know Kara.
Joyce had a boy friend — at least, sort of. She had dated a guy named Ron for two years, but he had graduated last year and taken a job 800 miles away. She had been to see him once, and he had been back to the school to visit her on homecoming weekend last fall. Ron had been backup quarterback on the football team his senior year and was about 16-times the athlete I would ever be. I'd hated him and his chiseled good looks when Joyce introduced us in October. But, now it was February, and I hadn't heard Joyce even mention his name for some time.
My own apartment was nothing special, and with just Josh and I living there, it was always a mess. It pretty much smelled like a gym, but that wasn't us. From a neighbor who'd lived their the year before, I found out that last year there had been four, count 'em, four guys from a jock fraternity who lived there. The owner's of the complex had done some cleaning over the summer, but we got to live with the remnants.
Josh and I furnished our place with typical "cheap chic." In other words, too cheap for chicks. At that time Josh wasn't dating anyone, and Kara's place was so nice, we never worried about bringing girls back to The Gulch, our not-too-affectionate name the place.
Kara and Joyce, however, made the most of what they had available to make their place comfortable. It was still a cheap, college-student-ready apartment, but, with a couple of extra throw pillows, a wall hanging, and some knick-knacks, their place was homey. Plus, it was where Kara lived. We couldn't actually live together, of course, because it just wasn't done in those days. That meant I had to go back to my apartment to sleep — well, most nights anyway. Aside from attending classes and an occasional trip home to see my folks, her apartment was pretty much my home base.
One fall afternoon after classes, I arrived at Kara's apartment well before she was due home. Joyce had just gotten in, and we talked about her day. She was in the middle of rehearsals for a show of some sort.
Both girls had gotten quite casual about their state of dress while I was around, and, as usual, Joyce walked in and out of the bedroom changing her clothes while we talked. I moved closer to the doorway to make conversation easier (and maintain my view of her body as she displayed it).
Both Joyce and Kara seemed to feel free to indulge in partial nudity while I was around, and I'd taken a more than casual interest in enjoying it. Joyce didn't seem to care whether Kara was there or not. If she wanted to change her clothes, she went ahead and did it. She wasn't the least bit modest. In fact, sometimes Joyce would even change her bra while we were talking. Joyce usually did it with her back to me, but I still got a decent (indecent?) glimpse of her breasts from time to time.
This particular day she was down to her bra and panties and was complaining about something that had happened at rehearsal. She turned away to unhook her bra then tossed it towards a pile of dirty clothes on the floor (college students, after all). Looking to the side, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and paused. She turned to look in the mirror, and I could see her breasts now in profile.
"Do you think my tits are too small?" She was turning from side to side a little to get a better view of herself which in turn gave me a GREAT view. Yes, they were not large. Petite, I would say.
She put her hands under her breasts and lifted them a little towards the mirror. "I think they're tiny. Don't you?"
I was transfixed — speechless. Afraid anything I said would spoil the moment (and the view), I said nothing and watched.
She pinched her nipples between her thumbs and forefingers and pulled them out and slightly up. Again she admired the view in the mirror. "So, do you like my tits?" She turned towards me and jiggled them at me.
All I could do was stare at her breasts as she stepped across the room towards me. She'd never been this brazen about displaying herself before, and I was dumbfounded.
"Do you like what you see?" she insisted
By this time I was holding my breath for fear of interrupting. She came closer, and I could see her hard, dark-pink nipples as she pinched them between her fingers once again. Unexpectedly, she reached one hand down and felt for my cock through the front of my pants. I was as stiff and hard as granite. The situation had aroused me fiercely!
"Oh, I see you do like them" she said as she rubbed my cock through my pants. "Why don't you touch them. I know you like to look at me. Why don't you try them to see what they feel like?"
Tentatively, I reached up and cupped the soft roundness of a breast. Bolder now, I brought my other arm up as well. She sighed as I ran my hands gently over and around the skin of her chest feeling the hollow between as well as the twin bulges of her breasts. Her stiff nipples caught at my fingers as I rubbed.
Her hand began to rub my cock again, and I moved my fingers to her nipples, those turgid little nubs of sexual tension that I had evidently not-so-secretly admired. They were tight and hard under my fingers and she sighed again, "Oh, that feels nice. I really like it when you rub my tits. Keep doing it like that. It makes me feel all nasty!"
Her hands were at my belt, and I suddenly realized she was undoing my pants. "I want to see your cock. Come on. Let me look at it!"
As she worked to push my pants down, her breasts pulled away from my hands. I wasn't disappointed, though. She sank to her knees directly in front of my cock, still holding it with her hands. "It's just as big as I thought it would be. What a wonderful cock!" She moved it from side to side, examining it carefully.
The gentle motions of her hands on my cock were thrilling. I closed my eyes to concentrate on the sensations as she gently manipulated it. Suddenly my cock was engulfed in a warm wetness. Startled, I looked down and saw she had taken it into her mouth. Kara and I had tried a little oral sex, and, although I enjoyed it, having my cock sucked had never seemed like the main event. With Joyce, it was different. She went at me with all the vim and vigor of a mongoose — without the sharp teeth, of course.
"Oh, Joyce," I finally gasped. "That feels good!" That was a huge understatement, but it was about as good as I could do with my brains being sucked out the end of my cock.
She pulled away and smiled up at me. "When I get my mouth on a cock, it knows it's been had my the best.
"Sit back on the bed and let me get into this a little," she said. My pants were already down to my ankles, and I slipped them and my shoes off in a pile by the bed. "Why don't you pull your shirt off too. I like the idea of you being naked while I suck your cock." she said.
I lay back on the bed, naked now, while she prowled my body with her hands. Her mouth concentrated on my cock. My head was totally in the clouds, and all I could feel were her hands and mouth on my body. She went from kissing my cock, to kissing my nipples, to kissing my lips, to a deep, sweet, licking swallow of my cock.
