White Freshman Black Coeds Ch 12

If you've just discovered this series, I'd urge you to read the Prologue to Chapter 1, and maybe even start there. This is a slowly-building series that I'm trying to keep as realistic as possible, the sexual awakening of a shy 18yo boy. But I hope there's enough erotica in each part to keep it interesting, even if you just start here.

Monday, October 3

rd

Rita had just dropped me off and I went up to my dorm room. My last class today started at 2, so no sense in trying to make that. I was at my desk (loft beds with desks underneath) sometime later studying when Jake came in.

"

Dude

, you're alive!"

"Yeeaah...?"

"Well you weren't here last night and you didn't answer my text, so I thought, maybe..."

I checked my phone and there was Jake's message alright, which I honestly hadn't seen before. I was probably zonked out with Nia when he sent it.

"Oh no, I'm sorry dude. I was at the gym and ran into a guy from my martial arts class [a PE elective], so he and I started sparring and practicing our forms. Then we grabbed pizza and beers and went back to his dorm to play Forza. Then it got late and he said I should just stay because his roommate had dropped out so he had the double room all to himself."

As I'm spinning this lie I'm realizing how gay it sounds, but I'm hoping Jake doesn't think that.

"Oh. Yeah, that's cool." A bit of a raised eyebrow; if not physically, then in his tone at least.

"I'm sorry, man. If I do something like that again I'll let you know, don't want you worrying about me."

"No, it's cool. But yeah, so just so you know, I'm going home for the weekend, probably come back late Sunday."

"Cool, thanks for letting me know. Tell your Mom and Dad I said hi."

I'd met them when they moved Jake in, and one other time; they seemed cool. But I was also thinking,

If Jake's going to be away Saturday night then maybe I can bring Nia back here...

"I will. I got today's Calculus notes if you want them." (We have Calculus together, but that's the only class. Jake is a Physics major.) Again with the implied question of why I'd missed that 12:00 class, but I didn't try to explain.

"Thanks, I was just reading that chapter and wasn't quite understanding some of it."

Some quiet time while Jake did whatever and I pretended to study, but I really was just replaying in my mind last night and this morning with Nia. And my dick was getting hard because of it.

"Hey Jake, you've been with a lot of girls, right? Have they ever, like, put their mouth on you?"

"Like kissing....?

Ohhhh

, you mean a blowjob! Sure man, lots of times."

"Do they...do you think they

like

doing it?"

"I think so, yeah. I mean, I don't

know

, but they do it when I ask them."

"And at the end, when you, when you're about to come, do you pull it out, or...?"

"Oh no, man, that's the best part! I try to come in their mouth if they'll let me. Yeah, that feels the best, coming in a girl's mouth. Why are you— Have you never...?"

"Oh sure, a few times. Not as much as you probably, but yeah. I was just wondering: do you think the girls

like

doing it, or specifically do they like it when a guy comes in their mouth?"

"I don't know, man, I just go with the flow. If I can get away with it I'll do it, but I've never really asked. I just expect them to, so they usually do."

"Yeah, me too," I lie. "Do you eat them out, Jake? Before or after they go down on you?"

"Yeah, sometimes. It's not really my thing, so I don't like

offer

it, but if they ask then I do. But it better be

before

they make me come, because afterwards I'm not really in the mood to. But if I have to do it first so they'll do me, then yeah, I'll do it. Have you done it?"

"Just once or twice, but yeah." What kind of stupid answer was that? If you'd done it once you'd remember for sure, and if you'd done it twice you'd remember that was only your second time. "I liked doing it, and the girl seemed to like it too. She came from me doing it."

"See, I'm not about all that. I'll lick it for a while, but I'm not gonna spend all day down there when there's fuckin' to do. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I do." Lying again.

"Anyway, I'm meeting a girl in a little while, so I'ma get cleaned up."

"Lucky dog! You're always picking up chicks, man."

"Hey, I can't help it, bro. It's these Greek good looks!"

I'd always wondered why Jake's skin was darker than normal, and jet-black hair. Hadn't really thought about his ethnicity though.

It was about 6 now and I was starving, just realizing I hadn't had lunch. So I threw the Calc book in my backpack and headed over to the cafeteria. Maybe I'd see Miss Pullam... Better put on some cologne, maybe comb my hair.

Remember Phylicia Rashad from The Cosby Show? Reruns of that were always on at the boys' home, I guess because a lot of the guys and staff were black. There was something about her that stirred something inside me, especially her older self. I guess that sophisticated yet motherly look, a little stouter of a frame when she was older, and that substantial bosom that she could just pull you into and comfort you with.

Miss Pullam looked a lot like her in the face, and wore her hair about the same, but was a little stouter yet. She liked to wear long flowery dresses most days with plunging necklines, displaying her ample cleavage. I'd often thought of burying my face between her breasts, as well as doing other things to her. I didn't know how old she was, maybe 45? It's hard to tell when you're 18 how old older people are. She was always nice to me, maybe nicer than she was to most? I don't know.

I think she was the cafeteria manager or something, because she was always there at all 3 meals, walking around, checking on things, telling workers what to do, sometimes running the cash register. With my newfound confidence I decided I'd flirt with her today and see where it might lead. She told everyone to call her

Miss

Pullam, so maybe there wasn't a

Mister

Pullam?

I went through the line to get my food, then found Miss Pullam at the cash register.

Sweet!

She was wearing a floral print dress, lots of whites and blues, plunging neckline, pillowy-looking cleavage. Later I saw that the dress came to just below her knees and she was wearing black high heels, making her calves look sexy.

"Evening, Miss Pullam.

You

look lovely today!"

"Well thank you, Mr. Livingston. You look...

presentable

." We both laughed because I was just wearing an old Stones T-shirt and faded jeans. Tight ones that showed off my butt, and maybe my bulge?

Did her eyes just flick there?

Nobody behind me in line so, "Did you do anything fun this weekend, ma'am?"

"

Ma'am!?

I'm not

that

old, young man! But no, not really. Saturday I went shopping with my daughter most of the day and then dinner. Yesterday I just laid around and watched Grey's Anatomy all day."

"Sorry, ma'a—

Miss

Pullam, I was just raised to be polite like that." But not too polite to steal glances at your breasts when I think you're not looking!

"That's nice, the world could use more of that old-school civility." I handed her my ID to scan and when she gave it back she held it tight as I tried to take it. "Are you doing okay, Mr. Livingston? Are you adjusting to college life, I mean?"

"Oh yes, ma— Miss Pullam, I love my classes, my roommate is cool, the gym is great, and I'm learning Tae Kwon Do. So yeah, I'm staying busy."

"That's good. You just let me know if you ever need help with anything. I've been working here a long time and know who to get in touch with for various things."

"Thank you, Miss Pullam." A girl had come up behind me, so I reluctantly moved on, no longer able to look at that cleavage or her big, intelligent eyes.

I finished eating and start doing homework at the table, as I sometimes do. It was 7:15 now and the cafeteria stopped serving at 7. I'd sat a little distance away from Miss Pullam, facing her so I could look at her occasionally. She was up from the register, had gone to the back to talk to the staff, then was going around tidying up, straightening up the condiments bar, whatever.

When it was just me and another girl still in the dining hall she asked us if we could finish up soon. I said I wanted to just finish this one last calculus problem, and soon the other girl left. Miss Pullam, doing her rounds still, walked by my table, paused, turned on her heel, and sat across from me.

"What are you working on there, Mr. Livingston?"

"Ah, just some calculus.

Applications of Differentiation

," I read from the chapter title.

"Are you having trouble with it? Maybe I could help?"

"You know calculus, Miss Pullam?"

"Don't be so surprised, young man. Yes, I do know calculus. I was a pre-med student here for 3 years."

"Ahhh, so

that's

why you like Grey's Anatomy! I never got into it myself, I'm more of an engineer than a biology type." Pause. "So why didn't you finish school?"

At this, Miss Pullam put her forearms up on the table, hands clasped, and leaned toward me, as if she was about to confide something important to me. Or just be able to talk lower so as not to be overheard. Either way, her arms up like that, and her leaning forward between them, had made her breasts swell in the middle where they met, pushing out past the plane of her dress, and making me start to salivate. I had loved sucking on Nia's small breasts; what would it feel like to bury by face between these monsters? How soft would they feel, what color and size were the nipples and areolae?

"...and I got pregnant, so it was best if I stopped school and had my daughter. My fiancé was a Master's student, so we figured we could do alright on just his income."

I'd missed the first part of what she said while I was fantasizing about her breasts, but I got the gist of it. "So you guys got married and you never went back to school?"

"Yes and yes. I did come back here to work when my daughter turned five and started going to school, but I never really had time to finish my Bachelor's degree, let alone the medical requirements."

"Well you should go back now, become a doctor. Wasn't that your dream? Your husband can support you when you go back to school."

A rueful laugh. "

If only

. He left as soon as she turned 18, said he'd only married me because of the pregnancy, felt like it was the right thing to do. That was 5 years ago, and I've had to support myself with this job ever since. No way I could be a full-time student again."

Quickly doing the math, I figured that Miss Pullam was about 44, so I wasn't far off. I impulsively reached my hands across the table and clasped her hands between mine. "I'm

so

sorry it worked out like that. Maybe you could go to night school or something?"

Miss Pullam didn't pull away from me, but she did dip her head and turn it to the side, sniffling a little. When she looked back up at me I saw that tears had welled up in her eyes. She pulled her right hand out from between mine and put it outside my left, clasping that hand between hers, her other hand staying clamped between mine.

"Thank you, you're too kind. I've never really been able to confess that to anyone, except my daughter, and— Well, thank you for listening, and for....caring."

"Of course, Miss Pullam! I think everyone should have a chance to do what they want to do with their life, but I understand that sometimes things happen."

Miss Pullam pulled her hands away from me now, and daubing at her eyes with a handkerchief she produced from somewhere, she sniffled once or twice and gathered herself together. Meanwhile I'd left my hands in the middle of the table, in case she wanted to come back. But seeing that that's not where this was going, I pulled them back.

"It's funny, Mark, I came over here to check on

you

, to see how things are really going with you. And here you are consoling

me

."

Mark?

How and why did she know/remember my name? She must've picked up on that.

"I take an interest in all my students, 'my charges' I think of you all as, and forgive me for prying, but I know a little of your....background. When I review the transaction sheets and see the same names on the weekends, never any absences, then I know that student isn't going home, maybe has no home to go home

to

."

I felt a little trespassed upon by this, but also appreciative of her intellect, and grateful for her even caring about us students, about

me

.

"So I asked at Admissions and they told me that, well, you know. And so I've just kind of kept an eye on you. I hope that doesn't upset you?"

"On no, Angela [reading it from her nametag], I'm actually touched that you cared enough to be concerned about me. Thank you, but I'm fine, really. That was a long time ago."

"I know. I just thought, well if you ever wanted someone to talk to, someone who's been through college before, who knows who to talk to get things done, well, I could help you with that." Adding quickly, "I've done that for lots of kids in the past."

Kids

, ouch. I'm trying to see this woman naked and she labels me as a kid.

"I must say, Mark, that you seemed well-adjusted, all things considered, and I was going to stop worrying about you," bashful smile,

like it's my place to worry about you

, "but today you seem

different

, and now I'm curious about that. If you want to talk about it; if not that's okay too." Looking away, releasing me from her gaze, giving me an out.

All of a sudden I'm nervous, fidgeting, because I haven't shared my Big Secret with anyone yet, and really have no one to share it

with

, except maybe "the girls," whenever I see them next.

But Miss Pullam is easy to talk to, and talking about that might even get her into bed, and....

The flights of fancy of a horny 18yo guy.

The last of the cafeteria workers were leaving now, bidding Miss Pullam goodnight, we'll see you in the morning, that kind of thing. Maybe lingering glances/stares about what's going on between Miss Pullam and that freshman white boy.

"Miss Pullam," dialing back the intimacy a bit, "something

has

changed, something extraordinary, but I don't really have anyone to talk to about it...and I could use some advice..."

"Oh honey, of

course

! I'm here for you...or

any

of my students. I mean that."

"Thank you, Angela. Could we go somewhere else though? I'm kind of uncomfortable here alone with you this late, all these windows..."

Miss Pullam stood and adjusted her dress, "Sure, yes of course. Maybe the student union, they're open late."

As I'd been talking to her and staring at that magnificent cleavage I'd been surreptitiously rubbing myself through my tight jeans, to the point where he was more than half-hard and I felt would probably do himself justice if I stood up too. So I did, stretching and arching my back nonchalantly because I'd been sitting so long, which pulled my t-shirt up and made sure it wasn't hiding anything. Miss Pullam took the bait and I caught her looking at my crotch, the outline of my cock I'm sure visible.

"Maybe somewhere more private than the student union? Because what I have to tell you is kind of embarrassing. Does your daughter live with you?"

"No." Pause, then understanding showing on her face, "No, she has her own apartment now."

"Oh. Well maybe could we go to your place then?" As I made a point of maneuvering myself for maximum effect while putting on my jacket and backpack, I saw Miss Pullam's eyes again dart to my crotch, an undefinable look on her face.

"Well that— that wouldn't be too

appropriate

, Mark." But as I started to interject with a, "sorry, never mind," she continued on, "But it's not against any rules

per se

, so....yes. Yes, we can do that. Do you have a car?"

"Great! Because I really need to tell someone this or I'm afraid I'll burst. Yes, I have a car."

"Well here's my address, say 9:30?"

"I know where that is, I deliver over by you." Questioning look. "Domino's." Oh.

"Okay, Mr. Livingston, I'll see you at 9:30 then."

Score!

And even if I don't get to see her naked and suck on those titties, she's at least nice to talk to. And I really

did

want to tell someone, anyone, my amazing news.

"Good night, Miss Pullam," I made a show of saying loudly as I walked out.

"Good night, Mr. Livingston. Get that calculus homework done!"

There were jokes there that could've been made there: differentiating between her right breast and left, integrating her with me, the area under her curves, etc, but now wasn't the time for that.

I walked back to my room to grab my car keys. Jake was there so I told him I might be out late again.

"Hey, remember when you offered me those condoms...?"

"I

knew

it! You've met someone, haven't you?! Here, take 2, you might need them. Heck, take 3!"

"Thanks, man. Don't wait up for me!" And out into the night I went. I was too young to buy a bottle of wine to bring over, but I went to the grocery store and picked up a Thank You card and a single red rose. After writing some mushy stuff in the card about her caring about me, being easy to talk to, etc, by the console light in my car, I headed over to Miss Pullam's house, only 15 minutes away.

"Right on time, Mr. Livingston! As an engineer, I knew you would be. Come in." She was wearing some kind of workout clothes I guess. This was before everyone was wearing yoga pants like they do these days, but her pants were tight enough to accentuate her hips. Up top she was wearing some kind of v-neck tee (with bra) that highlighted her chest, and revealed a good bit of cleavage.

I'd kept the card and rose behind my back, but as she ushered me in and turned to close the door, I brought them out, so that when she turned back to me I was holding them out to her. "I'm too young to buy wine, but I did want to thank you for being so kind to me."

Miss Pullam looked surprised, grateful, and flattered all at the same time. She did the hand to her chest thing and said, "For me? Thank you, Mark!" She put the rose in a vase that was handy, then read the card, giving me a hug after. Her breasts felt so full against my chest. Not necessarily firm, but full and plush.

"I have wine if you want..." I indicated I did, so she went to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of white wine, chilled, and two glasses.

Did she have that planned?

She set the two glasses on the coffee table, close together on coasters, poured, then using a remote turned on the stereo to some kind of cool jazz station. We settled onto the sofa, each sitting kind of sideways to more or less face each other. And with the glasses so close together, we had to pretty much sit close together just to reach them.

"So what's your big news? What's changed since last week?"

"Weeeellllll, I met a girl..."

"Wonderful! She's a nice girl?"

"Oh yes, she's

very

nice, so sweet, and I think she really likes me, Angela."

"Doesn't that feel wonderful, having someone like you for you?" I say that it does. "But I sense there's something more.... I hope you won't be offended, Mark, but are you by chance a virgin?"

Nothing else to do but answer truthfully to her, this older woman, now that I'm more comfortable with the idea of sex, and know that there's no shame in being a virgin at my age. In fact, I think I prefer it this way. So I told her all those things.

"I could tell you were shy, and given your background I can understand why. Do you have much

experience

of any kind with girls?"

"Before yesterday? No." I told her an abbreviated version of the story of my foster-sister in the abandoned house.