Alena A Fantasy

Alena: A Fantasy

Though Alena was a real person, this is not a true story. I never had sex with her, and I didn't even have the kinds of fantasies I relate here until I sat down to write this story. I suppose you could say it is a fantasy about a fantasy I wished I'd had.

Alena's not as young as she looks. She's a first-year, eighteen and a half according to her records, but you wouldn't know it by looking at her. She's tall, maybe 5'8", but with narrow shoulders and a girlish body. She has the same naive enthusiasm that all first-years seem to have before the rigors of college life drive it out of them.

She has been in my class all term, sitting a few rows back, but never too far back, always interested, but never asking questions. She's a shy girl, of a sort I often encounter. Quiet, but bright. When she does say something, it's always to the point, but always said with a sense of: maybe I shouldn't say this at all. Her short, blond, very light hair frames her girlish face, like a halo. She haunts me, and I try my best not to stare at her.

* * *

Alena often comes to see me outside of class, sitting, legs together or crossed, very lady-like, on the couch across from me. Her small young breasts are properly clad, never calling notice to themselves, but not hidden, either. Just there, as if she wasn't aware of them at all. She's neither flaunting them nor hiding them for fear of flaunting them. Her innocence captivates me.

Today, she has come with a purpose, to ask me about something we had discussed in class the day before. I saw a passion in her I'd never seen before. A passion for what she was thinking about, an intensity, a look on her face that said, I want this, and I must have it. Though 'it' was intellectual, her intensity, when filtered through my infatuation with her, came across as sexual. As surely as I heard her ask her questions, I could hear her beg me, with that same look, and that same voice, to stuff my cock into her pussy and fuck her until she screamed with the promise of satisfaction. I could see that same, inquisitive, curious look on her face as she knelt between my legs, unzipping and pulling down my trousers, aching for a look at my cock.

When she left, I felt as if I'd been on auto-pilot. Somehow, I'd been talking to her about history, but I could scarcely remember what she'd asked, or what I'd said in response. My conscious mind could recall only the rise and fall of her breasts; the quick stiffening of her nipples as our conversation became more animated; the parting of her legs, as she leaned forward to confront me with her doubts; and the glimpse of the crotch of her tights to which I was treated as she sat back on the couch, almost falling backwards, seemingly satisfied with some conclusion she'd reached.

I could also remember the ways in which I'd fidgeted, trying to keep my eyes off her breasts; off her thighs, when they were revealed by her pose; and from between her legs. How I tried not to think about jumping off of my chair and diving between her legs, ripping her panties away, thrusting my head between her legs, and licking her pussy as if it were the last source of moisture on earth.

I also recalled how I'd shifted my legs to hide my growing erection.

When Alena left my office, I locked the door after her. I sat down where she had been sitting, and imagined her, kneeling between my legs, unzipping my trousers just as I was unzipping them. Uncovering my silk boxers, my cock hard, leaning over to the left, dripping already, my undies wet with my precum. And her gasping, and saying, in what was plainly an involuntary exclamation, that she thought I'd already cum. I had to explain to her that, no, I had not, but that it was just precum, that my excitement, caused by her, and only her, had led to this. That it was my body's way of saying that it was truly ready for her, ready to do its part in lubricating her luscious pussy. I heard a soft "Mmm" escape her lips as she lowered her head, her mouth, onto me. I was shocked by how easily my dick slid into her mouth. It was obvious that, despite her innocent exterior, she'd done this before. And my shock only increased as I watched her slowly, but surely, work her way down my cock, taking more and more of me into her, down her throat, until her lovely face was buried in my pubic hair and my cock was fully encased in her mouth. She moved her tongue and mouth and throat around me, taking me in and out of her, her hand picking up the slack, as I withdrew.

I sat there on the couch as her head, bobbing up and down on my cock, revealed her innocence as an illusion. I thought, as my hand played with my sex, of her lying on the bed in her room, her small hands, soft as as silk, flitting across her pubis, her fingers gliding across her clit, dipping now and again into her pussy, a soft mound of light blond hair, the same as the hair on her head, masking it and yet calling my eyes to it.

I sat there and rubbed my cock furiously, imagining her lovely mouth on me. I could hear her moaning, feel the vibration in her throat as she got hotter and hotter, pulling more fiercely on me. I could see her as she looked up at me, lustfully, her eyes saying "Please," begging me to release myself into her mouth. I reached down and cupped her face in my hands, holding her gently at first, but then more firmly, as my orgasm approached from far away, then took me over, as Alena reached around, hugging me with both arms around my waist. I was shocked at how this shy, seemingly innocent, and astonishingly beautiful young woman was taking me into her throat without so much as flinching. Suddenly, my mind filled with scattered memories, pieces here and there. Her eyes. Her smile. Her nipples through her shirt. How sexy it was to have her fully clothed between my legs. How her soft hair draped over me, and her sweet lips stretched around my cock. That was what did it, and I moaned loudly, pressing my hips up into her, and exploded, losing myself as I filled her mouth. She held me there for a moment, before letting my cum fall back onto my cock and then licking it up again.

I looked down and realized that, although I'd taken off my sweater and unbuttoned my shirt up to my nipples, that had been quite insufficient preparation for the orgasm I'd had. I'd squirted up as far as my neck. There was tons of it on my shirt. And it was not just soaking in, but smelling like cum, too. The smell aroused me, and though I wiped the cum off my stomach, I could do nothing but pull my shirt up and suck the rest of it out. And then head home.

* * *

Alena came to see me many times that spring. But after that first time, my conversations with her were easier, as if I'd gotten it out of my system. Not, of course, that my mind didn't turn to her now and again, as I lay in my bed with my cock in my hand, but it became easier not to think such things when she was actually in my office. Which is not to say that I wasn't pleased to find, as the semester went on, winter turned to spring, and the people blossomed along with the trees and flowers, that she had started to wear sexier clothes. Her breasts turned out to be very small indeed--I was guessing 32A--and very firm, holding their shape with or without the bra she discarded when the first real warmth hit. Her shoulders were broader than I'd realized, which gave her a striking angularity. And almost as if I'd planned it, the cool of my air-conditioned office brought stiff nipples to the surface of her blouse when she entered from the warmth outside. I could see the outline of surprisingly dark areolae, larger than one would expect to cap such small breasts. I had a lot of material for my fantasies.

Usually, she wore dresses with long, flowing skirts, an odd change from her winter attire, which tended to consist of knee-length skirts and tights. But there were days when she wore shorter ones, mid-thigh, and I found myself wondering, on the days she usually came to see me, to what I'd be treated. Not that she dressed for me, of course. But I found myself almost wanting to thank her for the pleasant nights she'd given me, the fantasies and random thoughts that had filled so many sessions of self-love. And hoping, just once, that she might move her legs just so. But it never happened (fortunately, I suppose), and so I was left to imagine her pubic hair peeking from beneath a short skirt, her panties left behind that day.

There was one occasion, though, that I will never forget, late in the spring, after classes had ended, but before exams had begun. She had come to see me with more questions, and I was shocked to find, given the urgency with which she'd made her request, that the questions had little to do with what was on the exam. But there was that familiar intensity again, and she had clearly become obsessed with some of the things we'd been discussing. She spoke quickly, as if she were worried that she'd not have a chance to get her ideas out of her mouth before they evaporated, and our conversation was animated and active. I wrote on the board, and she jumped up, all but running over to it to cast something differently. Apologizing, in the sweetest way, worried that what she'd done had offended me. She bumped into me, and we touched for the first time.

After we finished, we walked down the hall together towards the single-serve bathrooms, and said our goodbyes. I did my business and returned to my office. It must have been ten minutes later when I left to go home and saw her emerge from the loo, walking toward me. The moment she saw me, she blushed crimson, then smiled sheepishly. The scent as she passed by me was unmistakable. She reeked of sex.

* * *

The next year, I saw little of Alena. She ended up deciding to major in history. It was clear that her interests were in areas close to those in which I work, but the need to fulfill her requirements kept her far from my courses. I'd see her now and again, but only briefly, in the halls, and we would exchange the most casual of pleasantries. But I saw plenty of her in my fantasies.

The very idea of this beautiful young woman sitting in the bathroom, with her skirt hiked up around her waist and her panties pulled down to her ankles got me hard faster than you can say 'erection'. I liked to imagine that she had not gone in there thinking of masturbating, but that, as she got ready to pee, she could smell her own excitement, brought on by adrenaline. Could feel the swelling in her labia, could not resist the urge to make herself cum. Other times, I'd imagine her long, thin fingers buried deep inside her pussy, while the fingers of her other hand danced lightly around her button. It was a no-miss fantasy for me, whatever the details.

* * *

The next year, her junior year, Alena was transformed. I saw her the day classes started, when she turned up again in one of mine. I don't know exactly what happened that summer, but it must have been something. The cute little girl who had sat before me two years before had been transformed into a drop-dead gorgeous woman. The most obvious change was in her hair, which had been colored deep red. Her glasses had changed, too. She'd always worn thin, round goldish frames. The new ones were more aggressive somehow, and the lower rim was missing, opening up her face somewhat. She may also have taken to wearing her make-up differently, though that's not exactly my area of expertise. And she had probably put on a little bit of weight, which in her case was likely for the best, health-wise, and in any event served to make her much more curvaceous than she had been.

Her hips benefited from this, for sure, but her breasts were the most grateful: I was now guessing 34B. The poor girl must have had to toss out every bra she owned, and maybe a few dresses, too. But the changes suited her.

I knew she'd gone to Europe for the summer, to travel with a friend of hers. She even told me about some of the trip. Exposure to European culture could, indeed, have been responsible for some of this. But, in my mind, I constructed my own explanation, my memories of her in the bathroom fueling the thought that, beneath that quiet exterior, there lurked a sexual powerhouse whose emergence was what had brought on the visible changes. It was a thought I liked.

* * *

It all happened in Holland. In Amsterdam, to be precise. The city just lives sex, or at least it looks that way to a tourist. Alena, though inexperienced in some ways, was hardly naive. She was away from home, away from almost anyone who would ever know what had happened, and she was emboldened by her anonymity. She wore clothes she'd never wear at home, nearly sheer shirts and very short skirts with nothing underneath. She would lie out, in the large park just south of the museums, catching both the sun and the admiring glances of both men and women. Moving her legs just so, watching their faces as she did, as if they were a mirror, telling her when she'd struck just the right pose, holding it just long enough for them to have a quick peek and then moving again, teasing them.

The fateful day was toward the end of her visit. She arrived at the park dressed in a white T-shirt, the top of a swimsuit underneath, and wearing a very light, white skirt, without any panties. She walked in search of a good place to display herself. She had found that such places are hard to come by, that exhibitionism is a popular sport in Amsterdam, and that many of the best locations are taken by mid-day. But, eventually, she found a good spot, near a pond. And just across from what looked to be a very attractive Italian couple. Flashing men with their girlfriends was her favorite variation on the theme.

She sat down and removed her top, not obviously in a sexy way, but in a way that would draw a little attention to herself. She made a point of stopping, midway through, and reaching under her top to adjust the front of her swimsuit, taking the chance to give her nipples a little tweak. In a quick motion, then, she pulled off the shirt, tossed her head back to swing her hair out of the way, and lay down on her back.

Sunglasses, of course, are a flasher's best friend, just as they are the observer's. She could not see the man's eyes across the way, but she was reasonably sure she had his attention. And by now, she was pretty well practiced and knew what movements would reveal how much, so she needed less feedback from her audience. She began her show slowly, giving what she hoped was a quick glance here and there, holding one position for a while, when the man turned toward her, then falling back onto her side, her legs together, when she thought he'd looked for long enough.

The heat of the sun, and the excitement of her display, were making her pussy wet and sticky. She'd been in that predicament before, and without any way of doing anything about it, but this time she'd made plans. Amsterdam, after all, is filled with sex shops, and although she knew that the one vibrator she'd brought with her would not help, she also knew that there were ones that would. The night before, she'd gone to a sex shop near the houseboat on which she was staying and purchased a very small, and very quiet, vibrating egg. She took it out of her backpack and, wrapping it in a small scarf, set it on the ground, then lay herself on top of it, squirming a bit to get it into the right position.

The man and woman had shifted their positions, too. Both of them were now lying with their legs pointing in her direction. As she lay down, the woman's parted just so, and it was clear to her that her unknown friends knew what they were doing. She could clearly see the woman's shaven pussy peeking out from underneath her skirt. And the man had rearranged his shorts, so that she could get a small glimpse of his semi-erect cock. Lying on her stomach, she started up her egg. The first vibrations hit her with a shock, and she quickly realized that the first position was 'high', not 'low'. She turned it down a bit, settling into a rhythm, rolling her pelvis back and forth over the egg, just as the man moved to give her a full, long look at his now very hard dick.

The sun had started to become especially hot, and the park itself was thinning out as people headed towards town for something cold to drink. She and the couple were now the only ones left in this little clearing, except for a single man and woman, one of whom was reading intently, the other of whom appeared to be sleeping. The Italian woman leaned over and whispered in the man's ear, and he moved so that he was lying on his side, facing his lover, she facing him, and Alena thought as she watched them that they must be beautiful in bed together. It looked as if their bodies were the lips of a giant pussy, their mouths locked as its clit, their feet as its base, and the space between them the vagina.

Alena's orgasm was approaching slowly, as she wanted. She was trying hard not to move now, not to give away what she was doing by grinding her hips into the ground beneath her. But what happened next across the way changed all that. The woman reached down, untied the string on the man's shorts, and put her hand into them. Through the hole at his leg, she could clearly see as she stroked his balls lightly and wrapped her hand around his cock. Alena was trying not to be too obvious, although she thought they must know that she could see them and, in any event, they were doing nothing to hide themselves from her gaze. She pressed her hips down against her toy and rhythmically tensed her legs as the woman started to stroke up and down her lover's shaft.

They were making love together, the three of them, and an image of Alena's own lips locked around that man's thick cock floated in front of her as she watched them. It was clear that his lover's ministrations were doing their work on him, as she could see his legs and ass tense with his approaching eruption. His upper hand had, for a long time, gripped lightly on his lover's arm, but now his grasp was firmer, demanding, and his lower hand had found its way to her pussy, not so much to stroke it as just to touch it, pulling her skirt up enough to give a very good view, his fingers parting her lips and one slipping inside her. That was all that Alena needed and her orgasm began to well deep within her, coming at her like a gust of wind from below, starting in her legs and rising through her hips, crashing through her pelvis and pouring into her stomach. She choked back a moan, clenching her teeth, and rode the waves.

She started to turn the vibrator off, but before she could do so, her eyes opened and fixed again on her distant lovers. The woman had effectively pulled her lover's shorts aside, though she was still stroking him slowly. He had now buried two fingers in her pussy, but his eyes were locked on Alena. The thought that he had watched her come, and known it, raced through her mind, down through her neck, across her breasts and stomach, and deep into her pussy, like a bolt of electricity, and her own eyes locked on his cock as he came, a thick jet of white shooting onto his lover's leg, followed by another and another. Though she was not even quite done with the last orgasm, Alena's pussy began to convulse with the the power of another, more intense and more sudden, taking her whether or not she wanted it, and forcing a definite, if muted, cry from her lips.

Alena turned off her helpful friend and lay, basking in the glow of her orgasms, while her lovers cleaned up. She smiled to herself as the woman dipped her fingers in the semen covering her leg, tasted it, tasted a bit more, and then shared it with her lover as she kissed him.

Satisfied, Alena fell asleep in the mid-day sun.