Orgasm Land

Part One

In my early twenties I got interested in writing and joined the college newspaper. Okay, while I was interested in possibly having a writing career, I also wanted to join the newspaper because of Mr. Lange. He wasn't one of my teachers in the college, but I had had my eye on him.

I usually only saw him once or twice a day: Right after my art class, I would walk to my next class and he'd usually be talking to one of the other teachers outside of his classroom during the period break. And occasionally I'd see him in the school food court grabbing something to eat, like a quick sandwich or a small bag of chips and a soda.

I was 22 and in my senior year and he looked maybe 51-52 years of age. God, he was good-looking. My little slit would turn to honey every time I saw him. He was tall and handsome with handsome flecks of gray in his hair with light eyes. He didn't look like a fitness freak, but it looked like he stayed in good shape for a man his age.

He and I had never talked up until that point -- I had just been admiring from afar in my little corner of the world, so I contented with myself with playing with myself in bed every morning and every night, dreaming of him making love to me and doing naughty things to my body.

So when I saw on the college website that the school newspaper was looking for volunteers and that it was being headed by Mr. Joseph Lange, who was to be one of the Editors-in-Chief, my heart raced at the thought of being close to him and working with him.

That evening, after school, when I went home to my dorm to my bored and disinterested roommate, Diana, and gushed to her about this opportunity about being on the school newspaper and being close to Mr. Lange -- someone I had talked to her endlessly about -- she simply ho-hummed and returned to her fashion magazine and snapped a wad of bubblegum. I gave up and delved into my homework for the evening. I had one written assignment to do, I had to study for an upcoming test in Geometry II, and I had to work on a book report -- one of the drawbacks of college: actual schoolwork!

That night, sleepless and restless, I signed up to be a volunteer for the school publication via the website. I couldn't wait for the following Monday when I would get to work up close and personal with Mr. Lange (or Joe, as I called him in my dreams). I was dreaming of standing close to his tall frame, the "swish" of his suit signaling when he and I brushed up against one another.

But none of that happened at the first meeting. Where was this guy at? I was extremely disappointed that he wasn't there. I guess all the big boys sat at a cushy desk and just got credit for being "Editor-in-Chief" while all of us lackeys did the work, I thought bitterly to myself.

God, did I feel foolish for thinking that.

I learned from another student that he had had a terrible stomach bug on Monday and had to leave school early and he wasn't able to come back till Friday. I felt like a total pig for being so judgmental of him.

That Friday when I went to a meeting for the school publication, I walked into the classroom, a gaggle of kids there, and there was Joseph, in the midst of a bunch of young adults delving into a pile of submissions and papers that had already been sent in for possible publication. I had come a few minutes late and they had started without me, which was alright -- I was just glad to see Joseph there. He looked just as handsome and sharp as ever. I swallowed, a lump in my throat forming.

I awkwardly approached the group and spoke to one of the few people I knew there thus far: Shelley. "Hey Shelley," I said to her. "What's going on?"

"We're looking through these poetry submissions. Here." She grabbed a few paper-clipped submissions and shoved them into my hand. "Look over these poems. In a little while we're going to talk about what we've reviewed."

"All this?" I said skeptically, turning over the papers, looking at the stash.

She put her hand on her hip and looked at me, irritated. "Well, what'd ya expect? A champagne bath? Now get to work, we have a ton of shit to do. Less make-up and more work, Patty," she said, addressing me.

I plopped down in a desk and started reviewing the poems. Some of them were very good and I made notes on the ones that I liked. I was used to Shelley's bossy ways; she and I were roommates in the dorm the year before. She was a pain in the ass to live with, but I grew to like her any way.

About a half-hour later, immersed in the poetry, I heard a deep voice from behind me say: "How's it lookin' there?"

I looked around my shoulder, slightly startled. It was Joseph. He had taken his suit jacket off and his tie was dangling on my bare arm as he leaned over, looking at the writings, his hand on the back of my chair. I was almost speechless at his down-to-earth attractiveness.

"Oh, it's going just fine," I said. "Some of these are really good, I like this one especially," I handed it to him.

He gently took the paper from me and stood up, reading over the short, abbreviated lines. "This

is

good," he said and pulled a chair up to my desk. "What do you think it's about?"

I was slightly intimidated by his intense gaze, but I tried to remain composed. "I think it's about a young boy who has lost his dog."

"Really? I mean, I got that," he said. "But I thought of the dog as maybe a long lost love or maybe something that got away from him, like an opportunity or a chance he never got back." He handed it back to me. I reread it.

"

Yeah

, I think you're

right

," I smiled, not realizing that the dog had been a metaphor.

Joseph and I chatted a little bit more about the poetry and what we thought this line meant or that line meant, et cetera. At about four o'clock that afternoon all of us sat in a circle discussing our notes and what we thought were positive and negative traits about some of the work we had received.

After the meeting was adjourned, all of us straightened up our papers into neat stacks and put them into folders, filing them away for another day. As Joseph was doing this, I overheard him talking to a student, telling him he was going to the football game that night. I pretended I was minding my own business, but I was eavesdropping. I suddenly decided going to the football game tonight would be a good idea after all.

We were in the latter part of September in Iowa, but it was still extremely muggy out. I went back to the dorm, showered, and got dressed for the game. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. I reapplied my make-up in the bathroom mirror as Diana sat on the counter, unusually interested in what I was doing.

"All this for some guy?" she asked, chomping on an apple.

I was applying my lipstick. "Yep. He's going to be there tonight and I'm hoping to run into him."

Diana laughed. "All this," she said, gesturing to my outfit and make-up, "is nothing but a façade. Don't be a fool, Patty," she said, grinning and taking another bite.

"Oh, poop on you," I told her. "You don't know nothin' yet. You'll see one day."

Part Two

I met Shelley at the game, along with a couple of other girlfriends. I sure as hell wasn't going to tell Shelley about my crush on Joseph -- she had a huge mouth that would

not

be advantageous to me. My eyes started darting around, looking for Joseph -- or Joe. I couldn't spot him at first.

Shelley looked at me, her hand once more on her hip. "

What

or

who

are you looking for?"

"Uhh, the quarterback -- I'm looking for the quarterback," I said dumbly.

"Ugghhh," she groaned and walked away with my other "friends." They pretty much ditched me, so I got some popcorn and took a seat on the bleachers and waited for the game to begin.

I knew next to nothing about football. I knew when one of the players crossed the far line that it was a touchdown and that team got seven points -- and that's pretty much what I knew.

The game was incredibly long, boring, and loud and I couldn't spot Joe anywhere. Maybe he had got sick again? Or maybe he had simply changed his mind. I was disappointed once more and thought about leaving, when I saw him coming up the bleacher steps with a young man (someone who looked like it could be his son). They didn't notice me, as he sat a few rows in front of me and off to the side. They were chatting and pointing to the players, eating hotdogs and laughing.

Joe got up from his seat and walked down the bleachers once more. I wondered where he was going, but I just enjoyed looking at his wide back and his nice behind. The young man stayed behind and sat in the bleachers. Once Joe was out of sight, the young man walked up the bleachers and spoke to me: "May I join you for a moment?"

I was a little bit taken back by his request, as I didn't know him from a hole in the wall. But I was grateful for the company and scooted over so he could sit next to me. "Sure."

"I'm Mike," he said. "And you are Patty?"

"Yes," I said. "How did you know my name?" I looked at him curiously.

"My Dad and I were talking about you."

"And your father is Mr. Lange?" I asked him.

"Yes. He said that you were one of the few kids on the journal who showed up to a football game!" Mike said, laughing.

I laughed with him. He really was a very nice young man, maybe 25 or 26 years of age, beautiful blue eyes and a younger version of his father. He had brown hair and an impish smile -- kind of a mischievous streak about him. I liked it.

"Well, what were you two talking about when my name came up?" I asked him casually, offering him some popcorn from my bag.

"He said he recognized you from the school paper, that was all."

"That's all?" I asked.

"And that you were cute."

I blushed. "Well. That was nice of him to say."

"Not that I disagree with him," Mike said, watching the field and grabbing a handful of popcorn and shoving it in his mouth. "You're quite a knockout."

"And that conversation prompted you to come talk to me? A total stranger?" I asked him in disbelief.

"Yeah."

At that point, Joe came up the bleachers with a soda and couldn't find his son anywhere. When he found his boy sitting next to me, he grinned and made his way up the stairs.

"Hey you two, what are you doing?"

"I think he was busy embarrassing you, Mr. Lange," I grinned up at him.

"Oh brother! Was that what you were doing, Mikey?" he nudged his son.

"Basically. I told her everything. About how you thought she was cute and everything."

I blushed, as did Joe. "Well, thanks for breaking the ice, my boy."

"Mr. Lange, would you like to sit with us?" I asked, smiling up at him, hands daintily wrapped around my knee.

"Actually, is there anything I can get you from the concession stand, Patty? I think I got the wrong kind of soda."

I laughed. "I'll come along with you. I don't know what I want yet."

As the cheers and boos emanated from the crowd, Joe and I walked under the dark sky, shoulder-to-shoulder, chatting away as if we'd known each other for years. We talked about Mike and what a troublemaker he was. Joe laughed and itched the back of his neck nervously as we spoke, his big, beaming bright smile glowed down on me, making me come alive with butterflies.

He told me that he had another child who was 28, a daughter. He and his wife had divorced almost a decade ago and he asked me casually if I was seeing anyone. I said no, hoping that this would plant an idea in his head to ask me out. When we got to the concession stand, he ordered a root beer and I ordered another bag of popcorn, as Mike had eaten quite a bit of mine already!

"Look, Mr. Lange," I said boldly. "I really like your son. He's very nice. But I'd rather just hang out with you tonight, if that's okay."

He stopped sipping his soda mid-slurp. "Really?"

I laughed. "Yes."

We sat on an old football bench that was slightly away from people -- only the victim of an occasional passerby. It was dark, it was quiet and we sat closely to one another. I couldn't believe all of this was happening so fast. I just couldn't wrap my brain around the fact that a man like Joe would be interested in me or that I'd get so excited just sitting near him.

We could hear the screams and cheers in the football stadium right near us. I tried to make casual conversation, but the wetness in my panties was telling me this was nothing near casual. I had been eyeing him for weeks and now that I was this close to him, I wanted to touch him. My hand reached for his face -- but I withdrew it shyly.

"It's okay, Patty," he told me softly.

I reached for his face again and gently touched his cheek. He got the idea and wrapped his large, hairy arm around my shoulders, pulling me in and kissing me. I responded quickly and kissed him back, the wetness of our tongues soon coming out of hiding to play with one another. I cautiously wrapped both of my arms around his neck and pulled myself closer to him. I was in ecstasy. I was not a virgin and neither of the two men I had been to bed with, even when they were inside of me, had made me feel this way. I was near the point of no return. I wanted to go to bed with him now and I didn't care what the consequences were.

But Joe could tell we were getting carried away with our kiss and he, with class and elegance, pulled away and said he wanted me, but could not bear to take advantage of someone so young and innocent. I admired his honesty and knew that, for some men, they would fear rejection for this admission. His honest and hesitant nature made me all the more drawn to him and we exchanged phone numbers. Flustered, we put the numbers away in our pockets and looked at one another once more, laughing at our teenage-like lust.

His thick thumb lingered on my painted lips and he grinned shyly. "You know, Patty, all the make-up is not hiding who you really are. I'm looking through you."

Part Three

I woke up the next morning in the dorm. I knew I had had an erotic dream about Joe, but I couldn't quite place what it was. On the other hand, I was grinning from it, so I assumed it was a very nice dream indeed. I got out of bed and showered and dressed.

Joe and I had come close to sleeping together last night, but I think both of us just lost our nerve at the last minute. I didn't mind. The two men I had slept with had used me for my body and for sex, so this was why I was so cautious venturing into something with someone new.

Joe's last comment, "I'm looking through you," had scared me quite a bit with its intensity. I didn't want him to know too much about me. I didn't want him to see my soul because I was fearing rejection.

Shortly after I got myself ready for the day, Joe called me up and we talked on the phone. We were hesitant at first but eased into the conversation. He asked me to come over to his house for dinner that evening at six o'clock and I said yes.

I had no problem finding the address that night as I was well-acquainted with the area. I wore a slinky black dress with a slit up the side of it and a pair of black heels. My dark brown hair was brushed and curled back away from my face and I wore minimal make-up.

He smiled when he opened his door to me and I grinned when I saw him. He looked so handsome -- he was wearing khaki pants and a tucked in button-up shirt.

"Dinner is almost ready," he said to me. "Maybe 15 minutes or so and it should be done."

"That sounds great," I told him, looking around his place. "What are we having?"

"I hope you're not a vegan," he grinned. "We're having steaks and potatoes."

"It sounds delicious!" I told him.

I could tell his eyes were glancing up and down my body in my dress while he coyly pretended to take my purse and hang it up on the peg. I looked around his house and investigated the photographs on the wall.

"Who is this?" I asked, pointing to a black-and-white photograph.

"That's my mother. She passed away two years ago. Her name was Jane. I also named my daughter after her."

I nodded and smiled. "She was beautiful."

We sat on the couch and talked a little bit about family. I mentioned I had a brother who was in school in Pennsylvania and that my parents were divorced. Both of my parents lived in Minnesota and I was glad to be away from them, I stressed.

He laughed. "Yeah. I felt that way when I was in college too." He wrapped his arm around my shoulders like the evening before. "I'm glad you came, Patty."

His house was so beautiful, so romantic. There were candles lit and it had kind of the feel of a wooden cabin. I could tell he had cleaned that day and I couldn't help but wonder if he had done it for me or if he just did that normally.

I smiled at him, snuggling into him. "I'm glad I came too. You have a wonderful place."

I boldly took his hand and put it on my side, hoping he would reach for my breast. He did. His hand wandered up to the side of my breast and he kissed me passionately. I was hoping he was so hard for me. I rested my hand on his leg and inched my crawling fingers up to his thigh, stopping before I got to his cock.

We were making out, real hot stuff, and he stopped the kiss for a minute to say to me in a low voice. "It's okay, baby, you can if you want to."

We went back to kissing and my fingers inched his way up to his cock. I could feel his erection through his pants. He was so hard and he was so big. I grinded my body into him, communicating that I was horny like he was. I thrusted my breasts into the side of his arm and I could tell he was surprised by my reaction.

"Oh Joe," I whispered to him.

"What? What is it, baby?" He asked, his hand deeply and lustfully caressing my hair.

"Let's go in the bedroom," I said, looking into his eyes and cutting off the kiss to smile at him.

He chuckled. "You're a handful. Are you sure you're ready to?"

"Yes. I'm sure."

We ran up the stairs like two high school kids and he led me to his bedroom. He flicked on the lights. "Sweetheart," he hesitated. "I haven't done this in years. Please be patient with me."

I nodded. "It's okay, Joe."

We kissed once more and his hands made his way to the back of my dress where the zipper was, unclasping my bra as he did so. Trembling, he pulled my dress off and took my bra off me. I helped him when he grasped at my panties and we slid them off together, never breaking the kiss. I was naked before him. He held me with such a passion that I didn't even know had existed.

I stood naked in his arms, pressed up against him as he his mouth made love to my neck. I could feel his manhood pressing up against my tummy and it felt wonderful. He kissed me, and our kisses grew more and more excited with each other's presence, more and more urgent. I attempted to get his clothes off, and he allowed me to.

I gently pushed him backwards and onto his back on the bed and we laughed, hitting the mattress together. I could tell it was going to be one of the most romantic nights of my life. He lied flat on his back. He was so hard, and my pussy was dripping with desire for this man.

Positioning myself over him, I slowly and teasingly guided his cock into my hole. I ran the head along my slit and he groaned, looking to the heavens. His naked body was so gorgeous. His chest was hairy, salt-and-pepper, and he looked strong and masculine with very slight muscles and aged skin. I enjoyed the contrast of our bodies.

I lowered myself on his cock and it felt so wonderful that my dream, my fantasy man was finally becoming mine. My slit oozed with wetness and the ways of a wanton slut. I didn't care what consequences would have to be paid -- he was so deeply inside me that I didn't want it to end.

Riding him, his hands went up to my breasts, playing with them. His hands slid down to my ass and he gripped them. I hopped up and down, my tits jiggling. We were both so pleasured by our fucking.