It was spring 1992, my Junior year at Brown. My study had been
English Literature until recently, when my passion for the environment as an activist and the urgency of public education on the issues moved me to alter my major to Environmental Biology,
with a minor in Philosophy. As a half-Cherokee, I felt a keen sense of duty, an obligation to my ancestors and earth and its people and
I wanted to make a difference. I was working in restaurant kitchens to put myself through school, which was brutal, but I had recently been hired to tutor for my philosophy professor, who was struggling to reach his students. So badly he had been put on probation, and he was up for Tenure and had to pass 60% of his students to keep his job. This gave me a tax-free job, with open-ended hours. I could make my own hours and as many as I could book, which was a God send.
I posted a signup sheet for tutoring hours and began booking my first clients of the semester. I had come back to shool as a non-traditional student, I was 23, but forced to live in the dorms, though mercifully qualified for a single room.
My room, was an anomaly in a dorm environment. It was decorated in largely Native American memorabilia, posters with natural scenery, quotes of wisdom and the like. It was always immaculate bodering on OCD intensity.
I litstened to a lot of ambient enviroment relaxation music, native flute and drums and the like. My room always smelled of sandalwood incense or occasoinally some marijuana masked by the perfume of the old blow your smoke through the toilet paper roll filled with dryer sheets trick. I hated that, so didn't smoke much in the dorm.
The friends I made thought of me as some wiser than my years soul, and my available hours booked up quickly.
It was a few weeks later, and I was asked to stay late at wrestling practice to work some drills, which made me late for a tutoring appointment with another of the prof's students, but from a class not of my own. Her name was Heather. I hadn't met her yet, but I was usually a very punctual person and I was upset with myself for being late, so I ran across campus to the dorm to try to catch her before she got upset enough to bail.
My effort paid off, as I entered the hall and saw her standing outside my room waiting patiently and exchanging some words with a few of my neighbors.
I immediately realized what was happening. The vultures were circling, looking to see if there was any meat to be had. The poor girl was hugging her books to her chest and trying to shrug off the assault of small talk from the boys.
I didn't blame them at all after drawing close enough to get a good look at the lass. She was a Junior, about 21. She was deliciously short at 5'2" ish and had lustrous, straight black hair that framed her perfectly symmetrical face with features of Asian descent, that I marked as fairly certain to be Japanese. She wore a grey cardigan sweater over a button down blouse that threatened to potentialy put someone's eye out with a burst button it so tight across her perfect full and pert C-cup breasts. She wore a brown silk tie and a black mini-skirt with some simple black knee high stocking and Doc. Martens, but my what I remember most about that oufit was the gothic Victorian choker on a wide black ribbon that really stood out against her fragile looking procelain skin and neck.
"Heyyyy, Heather I presume. I truly apologize for bieng late. I got held up at practice." I said sincerely. "I was fumbling for my key, as I thanked the guys for checking on her for me, as If meant that sincerely as well and the door swung open after a moment and I ushered her inside while enduring the behind her back obscene gestures and hints from my callous freshmen and sophmore hallmates, to which I offered the finger in return before stepping in behind her.
She was staring at the oddity of the room, and I was suddenly very conscious of what she might think of it, and how it might reflect on me.
She smiled, and it was a majestic thing. Those peary whites and those full lips pulled into a sardonic smile. "You're not like these other boys are you?" she turned to look at me, surrepticiously taking a moment to look me up an down appraisingly.
She seemed to focus on my face and long black hair not disimilar from her own, but her eyes didn't miss my wide thick shoulders and traps, or the tightness of my hoodie across my chest. Saving the last lingering glance at my crotch bulge in my Brown wrestling team sweats.
I endured the scrutiny warmly and didn't mind the linger of her soft brown eyes.
"I suppose not." I answered. "I hope that's points for rather than against." I aired.
"Ohh defintely." she affirmed, looking at my sparse furnishings for a place to sit, setting her books down on my desk.
"Please, again. I am sorry for being late. Take a seat I said gesturing to a emerald green oversized bean bag in the corner nook across from another, it's twin about five feet way.
I tried not to stare as she turned and bent at the waist to fluff the bean bag into a more stable shape. Her skirt hitched up her backside till it rode up showing quite clearly, the absence of panties of any kind and beautiful purplish brown and pink labia distended in that sweet golden alley with a clean shaved appearance.
I was caught completely off gaurd by it, and was grateful for her deliberately making more of the effort than it merited, clearly offering the show with the intention of teasing and playing it off as if innocent as a babe.
I felt my loins begin to respond to the offering as I grabbed my lesson plan and adjusted my cock to hang left as i took my own seat.
I watched carefully as she turned and sat in the chair, and caught a few more flashes of clean puss, as she figeted about, finally choosing an indian style seating position, which caused her skirt to raise slightly in the front and her legs to drop down the height of the bean bag seat. FLASH...
Until her hands took out her book and dropped it in her lap.
My cock leapt at the sight of that delicious pussy and began to engorge with each heartbeat agonizingly.
"There we go." she said, "Rather comfy once you fluff em." she said with giggle and a hair flip that sent ripples through her DDs.
I was a bit uncomfortable, especially after the run long run back from the gym. I was still sweating and overheated. She took notice.
"I realize you are probably exhausted and uncomfortable coming from practice, and to be honest the stank isn't going to work for me.
All I can smell is testosterone, and it's making me horny. I'll never be able to concentrate!" she said exasperatedly.
My cock responded involuntarily to the provactive language, twitching like fish in it's last throws of life in my sweats and making quick progress creeping down my left thigh. It was turgid at this point and approaching a half chubb, and the fat head and glans had begun to swell enough to be quicte noticeable, as well as my uncut status, which I saw her take notice off with a wry little smile at the corner of her mouth.
Embarrassed at the fact of smelling like a goat and the status of my involuntary errection, I blushed, surely bad enough to be discerned under my brown native skin.
"I'm really sorry..." I said, followed by a pregnant pause and a questioning squint, "I think..." I think." I said, letting it hand in the air while I looked her in the eye hungrily and let my eyes rove up and down her, coming to rest on her straining chest and quickly hardening nipples.
She was seated less than 10 ft from the radiator in winter and the heat could get unbearable in my little single dorm room.
"Gads it's hot in here." she ojbjected her hands moved deftly to remove the tie around her neck and quickly move down the row of buttons releasing the twins with their brown quarter sized areola and now erect nipples restrained only be a tight ribbed wife beater t-shirt, as she shrugged out the cardigan and blouse with a, "You don't mind do you?" she asked with a grin, as she rose to her knees to accomplish the task, as she lay the items out on my bed so as not to wrinkle them, her ass swaying there with vulva and hanging lips just begging to be suckled. "There, that's better, and let's crack a window if you don't mind she pleaded.
"This one right behind me would be ideal for a cool breeze. Would you mind?" she asked expectantly.
"Sure, sure thing." I managed, still half stunned by the show, and by the thought now having to cross the room directly at her, with an awkward half chubb, to open a damn window.
There was little I could do, and the damage she had inflicted with this last move, had yet to even run it's course. So by the time I stood up, I was sporting a thickening, lengthening 9 inches of girthy cock down the left leg of my sweats.
I did my best to ignore it and made my move for the window, having to cross the room and lean out over her to reach the window behind and leverage it open.
The widow was frozen to the sill and I was forced to really work at it to break that seal and gain the benefit of the cool breeze.
It was on the third violent tug at the window as I finally won, when I felt her hand close tentatively around the girth of its head as I straightened and looked down at her biting my lip and sucking air through my teeth as she began to squeeze gently up and down its shaft with both tiny asian hands, kissing on it softly tracing the vascular veins that were visible and looking up at me with mishief, wonder and lust in her eyes.
"New plan." she offered. "It's too late." she said frustratedly.
"That testosterone and your scent has my pussy dripping. I say let's fuck each other's brains out, and then we can both jump in the shower." she suggested.
"Brilliant!" was my reply as she fumbled with the drawstring of my sweats and returned to play with my cock that was straining for release now, a fully hard 11 inch whopper, thick as a Coke can and even wider at the head. It was thicker and heavier at the head and later third of the shaft then even the 6.5 inch base.
