[Disclaimer: None of the names mentioned herein are those of real people. The events described are fictionalized experiences and extrapolated fantasies from my college days. Additionally, I do not in any way intend to imply that the scenarios described are typical of what occurs at a women's college. They are simply typical of me.]
When I tell men that I attended a women's college, they usually say, in a voice heavy with innuendo, "I've heard about what goes on at those girl's schools." But what they imagine is from their masculine perspectives and fantasies, and so it is lacking in depth and breadth, not to mention out of touch with reality. They imagine lesbian sex going on between busty sorority girls with brazilian waxes in every room of every dormitory. They imagine the occasional lucky man tied to some girl's bed with women lining up at the door for a chance at him. But the reality is much subtler and far more interesting. Most of the girls at women's colleges are incredibly intelligent, the cream of the crop intellectually. Most of them are studious and driven: they had to work hard for the grades and test scores to get there. Some of them are from priviledged families, but more and more, the student body has become a cross-section of cultures, races, and socio-economic strata. And most of the girls there are hetero. I figure that a minimum of one in ten are lesbian, and of the remaining 90%, probably one in five is willing to experiment, like I was.
While I was curious, I didn't start experimenting until my Junior year. Early on, I'd found a boyfriend with a fascinating mind, an amazing mouth, a thick cock, and a willingness to learn to use them to maximize my enjoyment of him, and his of me. But Drew went off to grad school three hours away, and we commenced a weekend-only physical relationship that was insufficient to my needs and his. We admitted this to each other and spoke of breaking up, but there was love there between us, and we did not want to end our relationship because of distance. Yet, both of us were highly-sexed and neither of us appreciated the fact that when we got together all we did was fuck like rabbits. Whenever we saw each other, the sexual tension was so intense that even when we tried to go out and do things as a couple like we used to before he moved away, we ended up having sex. Restaurants, concert halls, parks, stairwells, swimming pools, class rooms, libraries, stores--it didn't matter. Our eyes would meet, or our hands would touch, and that urge to copulate would surge irresistably through us.
We spoke several times a week, and one day, after a couple of months of separation, Drew spoke longingly of his attraction to some of the women he saw almost daily. I told him he should ask them out. He said that it would not be fair. When I asked him why, he said because it would not be fair for him to have sex but not me. I remarked that it would not take me long to find another partner, and told him of the dates I'd turned down. I've never been a sexually jealous person and the thought of him with someone else did not bother me--my only concerns were that he practice safe sex if he did sleep with someone else, and that he tell me about it, preferably beforehand. But Drew was not like me in that, and the thought of me with another man drove him nuts. So we dropped the subject.
Soon afterwards, a solution presented itself in the form of one of the women in my house. Pilar was openly bi-sexual and quite a hot little number. She'd been hitting on me for two years, and at the beginning of our junior year, she'd begun doing things like sitting on my lap and feeding me bits of food, and slipping her arms around my neck and nuzzling me so I could smell the scent of the woman she'd just been with on her face. We went out dancing with a group one night as a stress-break from mid-terms and she seduced me. It was beautiful and exciting and exhausting. The following morning I called Drew to confess what I had done. I expected a jealous outburst, but what I got instead was a barrage of questions. He admitted that the thought of me and Pilar together was very arousing, and we had phone sex as I described what had occurred the night before:
I left the lab at about 10pm on Friday night, utterly exhausted. My partner and I had been running PCR and gel electrophoresis on DNA from
Brugia malayi
for a project involving the development of a biological assay for diagnosis of lymphatic filariasis. I'd missed the traditional Friday high tea and dinner as well, so I was intent on finding something to eat and getting a few hours sleep before I got back to work, this time on a lit paper that was due Monday morning.
When I let myself into the house, there were a few men and a dozen women in the living room. One of them was Pilar. She was wearing a little black skirt and a black vest, both of which showed off her golden skin marvellously. At first glance it looked like she was wearing a silk-screened tank under her vest, but she wasn't. She and Serena had painted the skin of her torso, front and back. She removed the vest to show me their handiwork, and I was impressed, not only by the artistry, but by the bounce of her breasts. Such perky little breasts.
They cajoled me into going out with them. Pilar dragged me upstairs and shoved me into the shower, and while I was showering, she picked out my clothes. I balked at wearing a summer-weight dress in late October, but she reminded me that we'd be dancing at the Black Pearl, and we would be working up a sweat. When I finished dressing and looked at myself in the mirror so I could fix my hair, I groaned. Pilar had chosen a push-up-push-out bra to wear with the dress and I was showing some serious cleavage. Which meant that guys at the club were going to think I was available, when I wasn't. Pilar wouldn't hear of me changing, so I sighed, then pinned my hair up to keep it off my neck and out of my way on the dancefloor. Forgoing stockings, I slipped into some flats, grabbed a wrap, and away we went.
The Pearl was packed. Locals and people from all five colleges in the area were there because it was one of the few places that the under-21 crowd could go with friends who were of legal drinking age. The Friday-night DJ always played good dance music and this night was no exception. The group of us pushed our way onto the dance floor upstairs and started shaking it. Pilar had an amazing little gymnast's body and she had some serious moves. I remember seeing her dancing with Serena and Melody, watching her weave her body around them like a cat. I loved it when she grabbed Melody's mane of waist-length blonde hair and bent her backwards, exposing her midriff. Pilar's golden hand played across Melody's belly as she pumped her body against the taller woman's back, hips rocking, breasts bouncing, lips trailing along the exposed throat. It was a very sexually charged moment, and I got hot just watching them. I think everyone did.
We danced for hours, letting off our mid-term stress. Pilar paired off with me several times, and inevitably she ended up grinding herself against my thigh or slipping her own thigh between my legs, bumping against my pubis. She was making me crazy; I hadn't seen Drew for two weeks and I was so sexually frustrated I was ready to hump my bedpost even before I went out dancing. Every brush of her body against mine sent a zing of pleasure through me. Mmm, yes, all that bumping and grinding to the powerful bass grooves on the dance floor was making me wild.
At one point Pilar worked her way down my body and back up, her fingertips trailing along the backs of my thighs, sending shivers through me and making my nipples harden. Her eyes fixed on my breasts on the way up and she pressed her lips to my cleavage, her tongue snaking out to taste my skin. I gasped at the sensation. A moment later, her mouth was just inches from mine. Her hand slipped up the back of my neck and she pulled me toward her, kissing me full-on. It was probably a brief kiss, but it seemed to last several minutes. When her mouth opened and her tongue sought mine, I met it. She slipped her arms around my neck and arched her body against me, purring, then broke away, putting distance between us, dark eyes dancing in a merry face.
We closed the place down, then stumbled up the hill to our houses. Some of the girls paired off with each other. One of the boys got lucky; the other one who had been with us headed home, alone. Serena and her boyfriend asked Pilar to join them for a three-way, but she declined. Instead, she linked her arm in mine and we kept walking. I didn't think anything of it at the time, afterall, we lived in the same house. We walked the solo girl to her house and made sure she was safely inside before we turned back to our own, just a few blocks away.
Pilar unlocked the front door and held it open for me to preceed her. I, in turn, pulled open the entry door. As she passed me, she let her fingers trail along my back and waist. Her touch sent an electric thrill through me, making me hyper-aware of my skin and the moistness between my legs. Our eyes met and without a word, she took my hand and lead me up the stairs, stopping on the third floor landing. My room was on the fourth floor.
