A
My College Years
story
INTRODUCTION
This story is set in my freshman year.
I had left my home town for the first time to go to college. I was still in state -- my parents aren't wealthy -- but nevertheless nearly three hundred miles from where I had grown up and most people I knew.
It had been a nightmare finding accommodation. But luckily my Dad had a good friend who lived in the city where my college was located. He had kindly offered me a room in the house he inhabited alone, his wife having died a few years earlier.
His name is David and he became both a father figure and mentor for me. David will play a major part later in this story. But my tale starts with another guy. It starts with...
-- -- --
PART I -- ROB
I sat cross-legged on my bed, eyes still blurry and sore from sobbing. I dabbed my face and blew my nose and then -- as was my custom -- tried to work my problems through by writing. I unclasped my journal and started a new entry.
November 18
It's four days since my eighteenth birthday. I'm a woman now, right? Why do I still feel like a little girl? More to the point, why do I still look the way I do?
I put down my pen and journal and picked up my hand mirror. I gazed at my tear-stained and puffy-eyed face. In my opinion, it was a young face. Why? Was it the freckles? Was it the slight hint of puppy fat that seemed resistant to any exercise I did? Was it the eyes that seemed too big for the rest of my face, Disney eyes? I pushed back the strands of dark blonde hair that constantly wandered across my face; maybe trying to form a barrier between me and an unappreciative world.
Was it the roundness, the lack of more mature sculpting, when would I get cheek bones? I concluded -- not for the first time -- that it was the whole package. I was 18, but, to me at least, my face didn't seem too different to that of the girl that had first bought the same mirror back home years ago.
But my worries weren't just my face. I turned the latch on my door and stood in front of my full-length mirror. 5'2" if I stretched a bit, 5'1" if I was more honest, then not everyone is statuesque. I undid my pajama pants and slid them off. I couldn't really complain about my legs. Maybe they were a bit on the skinny side, obviously they weren't the longest, but they were in proportion at least. No my legs were OK.
I pulled my T-shirt up above my panties. While running hadn't slimmed my face, my stomach was pleasingly taut, with maybe just a slight hint of roundness about my belly button. Not too bad either I guess.
Clasping the scrunched-up T-shirt to me, I turned and looked over my shoulder at my butt. Well baby definitely didn't have back. My ass cheeks weren't pneumatic, but at least they were pert and a little rounded. I bent forward slightly, emphasizing my modest curves. Well it might not be the sort of ass I wanted, but at least it didn't look like a boy's butt.
Self-consciously I pulled my panties down and let them fall. I guess my skin was OK, my butt cheeks were pale, with a hint of pink, not perfectly tanned like the skin of most of my friends. But that was OK as well.
I turned round again and looked at my mound. We were back in problem territory. It gleamed as pinkish pale as my butt and was close to hairless. I grimaced. I knew friends who regularly paid good money to be waxed as bald as me. But that was a choice. I was abnormally downy, almost hairless, two strokes with a razor and I was smooth. The Specialist had said I was otherwise healthy and had no related symptoms, so that was that. On the plus side, I didn't have to shave my legs or armpits very frequently, so every cloud... I guess my pussy was just that way, but it made me feel younger than I was, I didn't feel entirely like a real woman.
I sighed. The worst was to come. I lifted my T-shirt over my head and stood naked in front of the mirror. I didn't wear a bra, there was really no point. I surveyed my breasts. If breasts you could call them. There was just the hint of swelling, a slight curve outwards to my pink and puffy nipples.
I'm not sure if there was even a bra size for me; double A maybe. All I wanted was normal-sized breasts, They didn't have to be the C cups that Noemi Jones at college accentuated with tight and plunging tops, drawing longing looks from many of the boys, No, B, or even just proper A, cups would do me fine. Just something more substantial than my current flatness.
I looked at myself and felt the hot prick of tears starting again. My young for my age face, perched above a young for my age body, with an 18 year old trapped inside and raging to get out. Why would any boy look at me twice, let alone want to fuck me, let alone want to take my virginity; something that seemed way overdue happening at my age.
Noemi Jones with her hateful C cups had fucked two boys already and given hand- or blowjobs to several others. She was known as Easy Noemi for a good reason.
The tears rolled down my cheeks and, miserably, I got dressed again. I picked up my journal, wrote a few more sad thoughts about my disappointing appearance, turned off the nightstand light and lay down on my back.
Partly from habit, partly for comfort, I slipped a hand between my pajamas and panties and softly stroked my pussy through the thin cotton. It felt nice. I closed my eyes and imagined Rob lying between my legs. Rob with his almost handsome face and athletic shoulders. Mmm...
Rob took Calculus 101 with me, plus sadly fifty other students; how could little Em stand out in that group? Rob was on some college team or other and had the bearing of someone who was, unlike me, comfortable with his own body.
I wriggled out of my PJs and panties and spread my legs a little more, raising my knees to better accommodate my imaginary Rob. My fingers traced little hot circles round my clit in parallel to Rob's tongue. I dipped my fingers shallowly into my increasingly wet opening, while Rob did the same.
Closing my eyes, I imagined kneeling in front of Rob as he pulled his shirt over his head and unbuttoned his jeans. My fingers dipped deeper and circled more urgently as I thought about gripping his swelling cock in my hands and guiding it into my open mouth. He tasted good and I could feel him hardening more as my lips slid up and down his shaft and my tongue alternately caressed his glans.
I reached down with my other hand and eased the flesh up, exposing my clit. I licked my fingers and rubbed saliva over it, moving faster and more firmly as Rob held my head and began to slide in and out of my mouth. I felt the tip of his cock push into my throat and out again. I rubbed my clit harder as Rob fucked my mouth faster and deeper.
I grabbed his ass and pulled him to me, his balls hitting my chin as his cock stretched my throat. I fucked my now sopping opening with two fingers and rubbed my clit hard. As Rob face-fucked me, his head lolled back, eyes tight shut, and he moaned. I bit my lip and my hands moved more frantically as I began to feel a warm tingle turn into a hot throb between my legs, surging up into my chest.
Rob's cock began to twitch in my mouth and he groaned. I pushed the soles of my feet together, clenched my ass and arched my back as a powerful orgasm shuddered through me, just as Rob also erupted, squirting warm cum down my throat and into my stomach.
