**Prologue**
This story and the previous one I posted ("Nerds Love Me") form part of a larger text that I've been working on. Maybe I'll submit those chapters for consideration by the Literotica editors when I've made some more progress on it. Fictionally speaking, "Nerds Love Me" was written by a petite blonde woman, named Heidi, whereas this story was written by a tall, Hispanic woman, named Clarissa. Clarissa also named her main character Clarissa in this story, but made that Clarissa shorter and less busty than the actual Clarissa who occupies the pages of my...well, I suppose it's a novel.
Both Heidi and Clarissa are in their early 20s. Within the context of the novel, they prepared these stories as a creative writing exercise for a kind of hospitality training program. The task of the fictional characters was to write a first-person narrative that somehow blended the concepts of sexuality and revenge. They were to imagine that they were writing their story with the goal of sending it for publication somewhere, but such that their true identity would be kept secret.
**End of Prologue**
To keep things confidential, I'll just call myself Clarissa. This story is the first erotic one I've ever written. I don't know why I decided to write it. Having done so, I'll probably write more, if something as interesting as the story I'm about to tell ever happens to me again. I'm sure that it will. I'm a girl who finds erotic adventures, if they don't find me first. I should be honest and admit that I didn't write this story to help anybody. There probably won't be anything in this story that people find useful. If I'm wrong about that, I guess that's good, but I really don't care. Mainly, I wrote this story because I like the idea that some man or woman might be able to bring themselves to a nice orgasm by reading about a situation that I found myself in/put myself in. That's the kind of joy that I hope to bring people.
It might help the reader to know what I look like. I'm a petite, 22-year-old Latina woman. My hair is dark brown, straight, and hangs just a few inches past the height of my shoulders. I have smallish, but firm B-size breasts; 26B to be exact. I seem to have a constant naughty expression on my face, thanks to the twinkle in my big, brown eyes and the perpetual smirk on my full, puffy red lips. I don't want to seem full of myself, but it's important to be honest. I can't go out in public without causing jaws to drop either with lust or envy. I suppose part of these reactions have something to do with my insistence on wearing the hem of my skirts above mid-thigh and tops with necklines that plunge somewhere between the middle of my cleavage or lower. If the weather is warm, when I'm not wearing a skirt, I'm probably wearing tight bicycle shorts that end less than an inch below crotch-level. If the weather is cold, I tend to wear tight jeans or stretch pants that provide an excellent view of my little tight behind and my thin, yet finely toned, legs.
I grew up in Texas, but moved away from home to study English at Brown University. I just graduated a few months ago. I wanted to experience what it's like to live in New York City, so eight weeks ago I decided to take a job as a bicycle courier, since there really aren't that many jobs for English majors in Manhattan. I've really enjoyed it, so far. My work allows me to meet people all over the city and it's great exercise. It pays pretty well, too. Since I'm very efficient at making my deliveries, it's enough to pay for my little one bedroom apartment in the Village. I guess my only complaint has been that I really don't know many people in the city and I've been a bit lonely.
At Brown, I got used to having lots of girlfriends and, well, having regular sex was nice and something I have missed very much. Since graduating high school, I haven't been at all interested in tying myself down to one guy. I chose to find a group of hot guys at Brown who were ok with sharing casual sexual encounters with me, whenever it made sense for me to hook up with them, according to chance encounters with them at convenient times or to my own whims. The system worked out very well, even though many of the guys were involved more seriously with other girls. For the most part, I seemed to have a talent for picking guys who liked to get together for a fuck session, but would keep it on the down low. That way, I was able to have my fun without being Public Enemy #1 among the female students. Now, things are different and it has been frustrating. I've been working so much and it has been surprisingly difficult to meet people in this overcrowded city. It doesn't help that I'm very picky about who I get involved with, even casually.
Just a few weeks ago, the tide turned a bit. I made a delivery to a 34-year-old anthropology professor at NYU and took the time to ask about his research on the Mayan civilization. I took some courses in human anthropology at Brown and found it all very fascinating. Intelligent men, when they talk passionately about their discoveries and search for knowledge, seem to send an electrical pulse directly to my clitoris. I couldn't resist asking whether he'd like to go for coffee with me sometime. Usually, I hate to be the one to make the first move, but I made an exception in this case. He agreed to meet me on Sunday afternoon, which was my only day off, at a Dean & Deluca close to the university. We really had a good time. He was very funny and smart, so we decided to go out for dinner a few days later. On our third date, he kissed me goodnight before I went up to my apartment, but then we seemed to get stranded on first base.
On our fourth date, we held hands and he kissed me at the end of the night. Then, it was the same on the fifth and sixth dates. It wasn't that I didn't enjoy his company. It's just that things didn't seem to be progressing at all. I found it all very frustrating. I thought it was ridiculous that I hadn't had sex for three weeks. At Brown, and back home in Austin, I had sex at least three times per week. I think it was making me a bit crazy. By the end of our seventh date, I decided to take charge of things more. When he walked me home to my building, I asked whether he would mind walking me to my door, since there had been some issues with break-ins at my building, recently. That part was a lie, but I thought that I could get him into my apartment and then into my pants if I could get him up to my door. When we arrived at my door, I thanked him for a fantastic evening and I pressed my body close to his and kissed him, practically shoving my tongue down his throat in the process. I thought it was a pretty obvious clue. I invited him in for coffee. To my horror, he told me he was very tired and needed to get on back home. It was only just after 8:00 PM!
Angry, insulted, and sexually frustrated, I left him to enter my apartment. I stormed into my bedroom, tossed my purse onto the bedside table, and threw myself onto my bed. I keep a long vibrator/dildo in my drawer that, I'm sad to say, I've had to use quite a lot over the past several weeks. I grabbed it, hiked my mini-skirt up to my waist, lifted my knees up, and spread them at a 45-degree angle. I twisted the switch on the dildo to make it vibrate and sucked and licked it until it was sufficiently lubricated. Then, I used my left hand to pull my panties to the side and, with my right hand, I guided it slowly into my pussy. It felt so good, but I couldn't shake my resentment for having to resort to an electrical device to maintain my sanity. I just didn't think it was reasonable to expect someone as hot as me to find it so difficult to get laid.
Leaving the dildo vibrating away inside me, I reached over to the table and retrieved the phone from my purse. When I moved in, I ran into a man from the upstairs apartment. He had given me his number and told me that I should call if I ever needed anything. He was reasonably attractive, but I hadn't really seen him much, since then. We passed each other in the lobby a few times, but that was all. I know it seems a bit desperate, but I thought that it was worth a try. I called his number and said, "Hi, Drew, this is Clarissa. I don't know if you remember who I am, but I live in the apartment just below you and..."
He interrupted me and said, "Of course, I remember. What can I do for you?"
I asked, "Are you at home right now? If so, are you alone? I mean, are you busy at all?"
"I'm just watching TV right now. Yes, I'm alone. What's up?" he replied.
I said, "That's great news. I know this might sound a bit strange, neighbor, but I have a big vibrator inside me and I'd really prefer that the thing inside me were attached to a man, y'know?"
After a few moments of silence, his response was, "Of course, I'll be right down."