1.The Class
Owen slumped wearily in his English Literature seminar. The speaker was droning on about The Nose by Gogol and while Owen would have found such an absurdist tale difficult to grapple with at the best of times, his late night of drinking made such mindless prattle even harder to bear. Blocking out the lecturer Owen smiled ruefully to himself. Despite his sore head the drinking game had certainly been worth it; the winner was to receive a blowjob from the hot little campus slut. Owen had easily drunk his friends under the table – or in some cases into buckets – and with his muscled body, and quick smile the petite slut had been induced to work on him energetically. She had frantically rimmed his hairy ass for a good ten minutes before using her tongue stud to tease him into a gooey explosion. Then, looking him in the eyes the depraved little minx had swallowed his large load and then licked his cockhead clean...
"Owen!" Startled the tired young man jerked his head up to see his lecturer scowling at him.
"Feeling like we'd rather be somewhere else are we?" the stern-faced professor quizzed.
"No sir! I'm just feeling a little under the weather" he replied pretty much truthfully. The fuzz clearing from his mind a little under the scrutiny he continued, "And I don't really like the story anyway sir. I find the idea of some body part just deciding one day that it has complete autonomy and going off and doing its own thing quite preposterous." His confident upper middle-class Oxbridge tones confidently pronounced his verdict. "Furthermore, I think it pales in comparison to the philosophical depth of Gogol's Dead Souls" he added, knowing as he did so that this would undermine any scathing retort the professor might make. Of course he hadn't read the work, but he knew that wanky generalisations could get him out of most confrontations with lecturers.
"Hmmmm.... okay" the professor responded, "Well if you could just pay attention while I continue; there's not long left now."
Owen sat up and gave the appearance of attention while the lecturer rambled on. He subtly took in his surroundings and swept the room with his now alert gaze. Around the horseshoe of tables before the speaker's dais was the usual collection of apparently gifted students. There were a few like himself - good-looking and well-dressed young men sitting with a casual ease, a few more nerdy types – intent bearded faces hanging on every word, a few attractive daddy's girl types fully kitted out in Jack Wills chic and one or two lithe girls, their attractive bespectacled faces hunched over their frantically scribbled notes. These last were the type of girl he tended to go for – sure he might like a bimbo slut every now and again, but a tight-bodied, intelligent, and non-egotistical hottie was undoubtedly better.
However, there was one girl who didn't quite fit. From what he could see above the desk she was slightly thick – although far from fat – with a full set of breasts accentuated nicely within her clinging cashmere pullover. As she was sitting angled in her seat toward the speaker Owen noticed a slight curvature of her belly under the top; this heaviness made her so different from the hot little geeks he normally favoured but Owen still considered her incredibly hot. Her skin was tanned and her face was pretty – although not beautiful – with heavy eye makeup and full pouting lips. This alone would hardly have earned her a second look, after all Jenny was in this class and with her tight little body and humongous knockers he had had his eye on her for the history classes they'd shared last term. However, what this thick girl had under the desk enraptured him.
He saw black stilettos with huge heels leading to tanned and thick legs. These led up to even thicker thighs – obviously noticeable because they were almost side-on to him. These then led to the plumpest most delightful bottom he had ever seen. It was full and round, and even sitting down he could tell it had that unusual combination of size and perkiness. An unbidden thought came to his mind: "That ass was made for fucking. There's no doubt about it, God created such a perfect rump for the explicit purpose of hard and filthy pronging." Owen sighed to himself as he fantasised about that ass; he imagined himself massaging it, nuzzling between its cheeks, tasting in, fingering it, and shoving his cock right into its depths. It was utterly perfect and he was besotted.
Eventually he looked up from his reverie and found the girl's eyes on him, her gaze was intent and she had a small smile upon her pretty face. Owen held her gaze; he could do little else, in thrall to this thick girl's luscious body. He felt a spark of electricity jump between them, and her small smile widened to match his own. It seemed she too was as interested in him as he was in her. Suddenly however, she broke off the eye contact and seemed to cock her head to one side and grin to herself as if she had heard something amusing. Owen's study of these odd behavioural habits was broken by the lecturer dismissing the class and asking him to stay behind for a few moments.
Five minutes later Owen emerged from the class with his brow furrowed and his head in a reading list his lecturer had provided. His lack of enthusiasm had been noticed, but as he was an especially bright student he had been offered the chance to mold the module around his own interests. He had plucked to study the collected works of Haruki Murakami. He was just contemplating an approach to symbolism when a soft voice called out. He looked to the side of the corridor and the beautiful girl from the class was standing there, with a tentative grin on her face.
"Hi" she announced suddenly, "I'm Jasmine."
