The first time Ernest Irving saw Elizabeth Smith was at the incline. The incline was a paved path that curved to the hilltop. A lot of students studied and sunbathed on the grassy side of the hill. Elizabeth was trying to get off her bike because the incline was too steep for her. As she swung her leg across the bike, the ankle cuff of her pants got caught on the petal. Because Elizabeth had a rather fat ass, the workout pant was rather large. There was a strong stretch around her thigh, yet ample of fabric flapping around the ankle, waiting to be caught on something.
She was rather uncoordinated. The fabric wrapped tightly around the petal. She jerked back and force. She was very much lost in her own world, like she didn't pay attention to anyone else on the busy college campus. There was a group of three coeds walking past her. The freshmen students were small of stature. They wore mini-skirts, showed lots of leg and had perky breasts that pointed vertically. There was an air of flirt around those girls. The guys stole glances at them. Elizabeth was invisible to that world, and she didn't look for that world.
Ernest's day was slow. He was eating broccoli, raisin, and brown rice from a Styrofoam cup under the shade of trees. He wore leather shoes from Shoes For Less. He was wearing a checkered shirt that was a number too small and tucked into his pants. He had round glasses that gave him away as a mechanical engineering student.
For some reason, he enjoyed watching Elizabeth struggle. Her workout pants were so overstretched over the butt that they turned to a color three shades lighter than the rest of the pants. The fat on her hips and her boobs was so ample that it was grotesque, yet he was curious to imagine it naked for the sheer museum-horror factor. She was holding onto a biology book. They later shared a basic math class together. There was word about her that she wrote a very well written article for her old high school's paper. It was about matching student personalities with the personalities of pets.
Nobody liked her either. Both Ernest and Elizabeth were loners. Ernest studied hard. He was afraid of the chiding of other students and avoided social situations. Elizabeth for her body, obviously got lots of sneers and frowns. Nobody said anything directly to her. Already at that first glimpse of Elizabeth, he suspected that she was angry with the world. He was angry with the world that he go to hear about hookup culture on college campuses across the nation. Yet, he hadn't even gotten a single flirt from a girl. He stubbed the broccoli in his cup and tried to catch a raisin to have at least something sweet. His parents had told him that school is about learning and not partying. It was easy for them to say because they were both high school teachers.
Three weeks into the first semester, he was sitting in the basic math class. He mainly took the class to pad his grades with an easy grade. He heard the cool guys whispering behind him. There was Jason. He is a tall guy with a blond mane. He surfs. He completely adopted the surfer stance. He hangs a little low in his knees when he stands and lets his arms rest back, behind the natural fall line of gravity. The other guy was Herb. He was liked among the class for all the humor and sniping that he injected into the class.
"Pound cake is handing it out to every guy who asks her. We've sent her eight guys already. They've all pounded her mercilessly. She simply takes," said Jason with exasperation and excitement.
"How do you know that those guys aren't lying?" asked Herb skeptically.
"She has a birthmark next to her clit. We ask the guys for the shape of it. It's pretty unique," explained Jason.
"Pound cake is gnarly. You really tap that, dog?" asked Herb.
"She takes any pounding. Before class, I fucked her mouth. I pinched her nose, so that she couldn't breathe. She didn't complain. She kept sucking. I slapped her tits hard. She didn't complain. It's like she isn't even human. She takes any pounding. That's why we call her pound cake. Just pound her and walk away when you are done," Jason expanded the topic with glee.
Ernest was listening keenly. The teacher was inaudible to him. His parents never told him about sex or how to talk to girls. His hands were sweaty. The idea of sex filled his mind with mad imaginations. So, he took all the courage that his little stature had to turn his head over his shoulder, cup his mouth with a hand, and ask, "Who is cupcake?"
Jason and Herb started laughing. "Oh, little weasel wants to get his bone into cupcake. Someone write him a blueprint to find his own wiener."
Ernest had expected that he wouldn't be taken seriously. Though, the idea of pussy seemed like an enigma to him. The girls in class wouldn't talk with him. He didn't know what to say. This pound cake girl seemed like a chance for him. If she let herself be fucked by anyone, he could be anyone. "Guys, if she provides a socialist service, it should be open to everyone.
Jason and Herb giggled harder. "I'll tell you what. You take a swing at Jason after class, if you can muster that much balls, we'll tell you who pound cake is."
"Deal," said Ernest and turned back to face the teacher. He rocked his chair onto the back legs to relish his success and good future. He pictured seeing the pussy that he had seen in porn mags in person, that pink slit and the bulges of pussy lips. He wondered if the blond Russian girl in the first row, who always wore mini-skirts and makeup, was pound cake.
After class, he stopped Jason and Herb in the hallway. They had already forgotten the conversation. "Where do I punch you," asked Ernest. Jason's long flowing blond surfer hair waved back as Jason broke into a surprised laughter, biting his fist. Jason and Herb looked at each other. Ernest went straight for Jason's chest. The tight, nerdy fist was more like a knock on the door than a boxer's bunch. Jason's face grew dim. He grabbed Ernest by the hips, flipped him around and stuffed him into the nearest metal trashcan.
"Starbucks and a bag of half eaten Cheetos," called Ernest out in exasperation. His feet were dangling in the air. "Okay, fair. I punched you. You have to tell me who pound cake is."
Herb paused Jason from walking away. The footsteps stopped. "That would be so gnarly if weasel pounds her as well. We should pimp her out to the entire school just for fun. We could turn her into the first cum dumpster outside of a porn stage. I kind of like sending all the weirdos to her. What is the name of the bully who punched a kid because fall had started?"
"Oh my god, do you remember that jock from the hockey team? He never showers. He only rubs his body in cinnamon. We should send him to her as well," said Jason with his voice getting excited.
"Weasel, it's Elizabeth Smith. Tell her that Herb sent you," said Herb and started walking away.
"Should I buy her flowers or chocolate?" yelled Ernest after the guys walking away.
"Nah, just tell her, 'Drop to her knees, bitch'," called Jason.
That night, Ernest was very excited about getting sex for the first time in his life. He kept beating his meat with wild memories. The next morning, he got up half hour early. He waited at the bottom of the incline. Elizabeth Smith rode her bike leisurely to the bottom of the incline, where she swung off her saddle to push the bike uphill.
Ernest stepped in her path, "Herb and Jason told me that you might make me feel happy?" His voice vibrated from nervousness. He was ready to run away. He looked cautiously at her.
Her face looked tired. There was a little moment of recognition, like when one gets told by the parents to bring out the trash. Then, she grabbed his hand and pulled him behind the shed with garden tools. She leaned her bike against the shed. She got on her knees facing him and pulled her workout pants down to her knees.
Her big fat butt was looking at her. He could see her cunt between her thighs. He was nervous. He felt like reality had burst. Getting pussy was that easy. All his life, it had felt impossible. He pulled his pants down and ripped a condom package open. She turned around, swatted the condom out of his hand, and said, "The rubber chafes my skin. I'm on the pill. If you don't trust me, he can go with me to the pharmacy, buy Plan B, and have me eat it in front of you." With that, she resumed her position on her hands and knees.
Ernest had a boner all along. He felt her pussy. He thought that her hole should be farther at the front than it really was. His boner kept feeling the slit between her pussy lips. Pound cake lost interest, reached between her legs, and grabbed his boner. "Which hole do you want?" she asked.
"Oh, there is an option," asked Ernest surprised.
Without another word, pound cake plunged his dick into her pussy. The sensation of feeling his penis engulfed by female flesh was overwhelming. She shook him out of the daze by ordering him, "Spit on your dick. I'm not turned on and dry." As ordered, Ernest spat on his half entered dick. The spit landed on her bum, his dick, her pussy. He rubbed it around as best as he could.
"Pound me," she ordered him sternly.
He started pounding her as hard as he could. Her butt flesh was wobbling around. He held onto her hips to get more leverage. He could feel that she wasn't into it and only impatiently waiting to go to class. He was masturbating inside of her, as if she were a flesh sock. His eyes grew dreamy as he got more stimulated. He could see the flowers growing over the wall behind the garden tool shed. He stared at the pavement. He got into a trance gazing at the sand particles in the pavement. With a pussy, he was chasing towards orgasm so much faster than with his own hand. The pussy was a lot softer, so that he didn't get as much physical friction, yet his mind was so much quicker ready to spurt his semen.
And so he shot his semen into her belly. There were three big spurts that he couldn't control. He felt like he was filling her up with a spoonful of semen with each squirt. He could smell her pussy in the air because it had been rubbed warm. He wanted to collapse on top of her. Tender feelings overcame him. She shrugged him off and let him fall to the ground. She got up, pulled, the workout pants up, and left with her bike.
Ernest interrupted her, "Why do you like being pounded?"
Pound cake stopped for a moment and thought, "I don't like fucking. I'm a shy girl. No guy pays attention to me. Though, when the pound me hard, I can feel how excited they are about me. That's what I like. I don't need to get off. I need to feel the masculine heat pounding away at my body. It makes me feel less alone."
That's how Ernest lost his virginity.
In the afternoon was the track class. Every freshman had to take one physical education class. The shower at the end of the practice was an uncomfortable place for Erwin. He usually tried to look at the ground when he was rubbing the soap onto his body to a nice lather. His mom had educated him on carefully washing all the parts of his body as a little kid. He couldn't help but listen to the words of the other kids. He tried shutting out the sounds, yet sounds kept intruding into his head.
