Greaser

This week I took a trip to the city of spires (that's Oxford for those of you that don't know) and it got me reminiscing about the student years.... Days spent panicking about overdue essays and hiding from tutors at the back of the lecture hall. Although most of my time was spent trying to discover exactly how much tequila I could stomach before ending up face down on the High Street singing 'fat bottomed women make the world go round'.

But the main thing I remember about that time is the 'boys'. The endless supply of boys... At no other period in your life is there such an immense availability and variety of them.... Whatever your preference, taste, inclination or desire you were pretty much guaranteed to be able to find your 'flavour' somewhere in Oxford.

My personal taste at that time was the 'Greaser'... Unappetising as he sounds, he was the subject of 90% of my college fantasies...the other 10% belonging to my French lecturer whose voice melted me like chocolate. My Greaser had long, usually unwashed hair and his black leather jacket left me weak at the knees and weak in my morals! HE fought the system...HE didn't take shit from anyone...AND he was million miles away from the clean-shaven, preppy boys that congregated on the college grounds discussing the cost of the latest Mercedes and how totally out of 'ord Piggy was at the last fondue ski weekend in Aspen.'

Ok!....So The Greaser didn't really communicate beyond a series of grunts & sniffs...he probably didn't understand the concept of 'paying for dinner' and what I'd heard of his music appreciation stretched as far as Motorhead and no further... but there was something about the way that boy straddled his old Triumph that made me salivate and made my pussy throb with nervous anticipation!

Not that I had any intention of giving into my newly discovered carnal desires.. Oh no! I had every intention of remaining a good girl... But well... That boy did things to me... Or rather I so wanted him to do things to me...

It wasn't until my third year that I finally found myself in touching distance of The Greaser. It had been a typical Friday evening and a group of us girls had decided that the pub was the only antidote to that afternoon's coma inducing lecture on 17th century French poetry. But it had turned into a disappointing evening fending off the affections of half-cut rugby players ...when I'd heard the deep guttering rumble of HIS Triumph coming down the road... I turned to see him pulling up next to us, his shiny black helmet glistening with late evening dewiness.. And I was suddenly very aware of how short my skirt was and how hard my heart was thumping.

He barely acknowledged my existence as he pushed through our group of giggling girls, his almost Neanderthal gait did nothing but increase my desire for him and I ignored the warning whispers of my friends as I followed him into the darkly lit pub.

I didn't know what I was going to do, or what I was going to say to him. All I knew was I wanted to get close enough to him to touch the leather of his jacket and breathe him in. He had propped himself up at the end of the bar and was scanning the room with his piercing blue eyes, I averted my stare when his scan fell on me, but I knew he'd seen me watching him from my position near the women's toilets. I dared a look back at him after a few seconds and he was still watching me...my heart was thumping so hard I could have sworn it was drowning out the music playing in the bar. I suddenly felt very exposed and stupid...I decided to hide in the loos until I felt more composed and could think of a way to walk past him and out of the pub without falling over my 4 inch heels!

I stared at my reflection in the mirror... my hair so neatly placed earlier in the evening resembled a birds nest now and my make-up was slowly sliding down my face... I took a bit of loo roll and tried to scrape the mascara from under my eyes only semi-aware of the door to the toilets opening and someone standing next to me.. As I turned I gasped in shock to see all 6ft+ of The Greaser standing so close to me I could smell his aftershave and the beer on his breathe....

I looked down quickly and moved to go around him, but he grabbed my arm and before I knew it his mouth was on mine, his tongue urgently searching my mouth...It was like I was suddenly much more intoxicated than I had been, his touch was electric and sparks of it ran the length of my body. Not a word had been spoken but here I was in his arms in the toilets at the back of some seedy little pub in the less respectable area of oh so 'proper' Oxford.. And all I could think was...'please god don't let him stop!

He was much more gentle than I expected but there was no doubt that he knew what he wanted and he was going to have it. Pushing me against the sink counter so I was facing the mirror, he was suddenly behind me, his arms round my waist and his hands running up the inside of my thighs... I didn't know what to do... any minute someone, maybe even one of my friends looking for me, could have come into the room and we'd be there in plain view, but I couldn't say 'no'.. I didn't want to say 'no'.,... I wanted this!

I felt his leg push between by thighs and his teeth nuzzle into my neck.. His breathing faster and more urgent and I didn't care about anything else.. I wanted him.. Right there.. In the ladies room of this squalid darkly lit boozer, which was somehow just like him ... a little dirty, a little sleazy but if this was your thing it was perfect and for my first time it was the fulfilment of my every fantasy!

I felt him hard against my ass as he rubbed himself against me... he pulled me closer with one hand and pushed me over with his other hand on my neck... My heart was beating so fast I thought I might just pass out before I could finally get him inside me. I heard the low metallic growl of this zip as he freed himself from his jeans and felt my skirt being pushed up with strong yet gentle hands. I was so ready for him, no longer self conscious or scared of being caught, I couldn't imagine stopping.. Not now...

His hard warmth filled me, as urgency and desire had taken over, still no words were spoken as we moved against each other. I braced myself against the counter as his thrusts increased in pace and depth. I heard him moan and gasp, the only sounds from inside the room somehow still audible against the background noises of the pub just beyond the door. The beat of the bass from the sound system, the mumbling of idle chatter and sudden bursts of laughter as people finished their evening little knowing what was going on just a few inches away from them.

Finally, perfectly, the rush of tingling heat and pleasure burst through us and he held me so tight against him that I thought he might be trying to squeeze the last few dregs of energy still left in me. Pulling down my skirt, he helped me to straighten up, turned me around and smiled a deep, satisfied smile, he pressed his lips to mine in a long lingering kiss that left me weak at the knees.

He never spoke but when he went to the door to leave, with one hand on the handle, he slowly turned, winked and smiled at me again. In that second a whole conversation passed between us. There had been passion, there had been a respectful sharing of sexual pleasure between strangers and though it had passed there would always be that something there ... even though we never shared another moment like that again. If we had it might not have been the incredible memory I have now...

So there you... The College Girl and The Greaser...it's amazing what a trip down memory lane can do for a girl so I'm off to see what new memories I can make and maybe share with you some time...