WARNING:
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further!
This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.
This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.
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A quick recap, but you really should read previous chapters to prepare for the big finish:
Mr. Marcus responded to Dr. Stephanie Krumholtz's phone call about her daughter Inga's depression. During their conversation, Mr. Marcus got Dr. Krumholtz's permission to have sex with Inga. It turned out Inga wasn't depressed, just feeling bad about not getting laid in the motel. Mr. Marcus promised they'd have sex, soon. Then he drove downstate to his daughter Annie's college to celebrate Parents' Weekend and his birthday. Annie fixed him up with five coeds, who tease his cock but stop before he can cum. Mr. Marcus plays along, hoping to get satisfied. Annie insists he wear a blindfold, and then delivers a mystery sex partner with whom he can orgasm. The mystery sex partner turns out to be Inga.
Mr. Marcus tries to fuck Inga but she goes nuts with orgasms when he plants just the tip of his dick in her. Claudia, who didn't participate in the role-play and punning, shows up and beds Mr. Marcus. In the process, she learns of Inga's issue: a buried clit, and solves it with desensitizing gel. Mr. Marcus fucks Inga completely, and then has Claudia again, just because. After spending the night alone, he wakes up to find his car missing.
Question: What was the name of the girl who pretended to be a plumber? See, I told you there would be a quiz.
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"Damn college kids!" I paced back and forth in the spot where my coupe had been parked and locked. My car keys were missing, probably taken by one of the girls who'd teased me into undressing and foreplay. But why? Couldn't they have asked? I was so busy penetrating them and Inga that I probably would have agreed to any reasonable request, even borrowing my car. But under these circumstances, it was grand theft auto! And I was stranded.
I marched back to Annie's room. It was the Monday after Parents' Weekend. The hallways were silent, empty of any students. Where was everybody? Classes hadn't started yet. I picked up the desk phone in Annie's room and dialed Campus Security. I got a recording that all campus police had been deployed for 'Match Up Day' and I could leave a message. Match Up what? Parents' cars to thieving students?
Something was different in Annie's room. On her roommate's bed was a suitcase, open, and a note on Annie's unmade bed:
A,
I'm at tennis. Catch you up later.
F
'F' must have stood for Annie's roommate, or someone named Fred who dresses in women's clothing, plays tennis and dropped his suitcase off in Annie's room. I took a closer look at the photos decorating the wall opposite of Annie's stuff. One face kept appearing in the pictures, and not Fred. A young woman with distinctive features: square face, large wide-set eyes and volumes of wavy brunette hair. Not unkempt, but flowing.
A voice from the doorway startled me. "Hi. Can I help you?"
The face in the photos was attached to a body dressed in tennis whites: a halter top with a high neckline and a short white skirt that exposed two very shapely legs. Athletic legs. The kind that can squeeze really hard when you're groin to groin- Thinking about a cold shower, I said, "Hi. I'm Annie's father."
Her arm shot up as if spring-loaded, ready to be shaken. "I'm Felice, Annie's roommate. She talks about you all the time."
I dreaded what she might have known. "I saw your note. Did you vanquish your opponent in straight sets?"
She dropped her gym bag with a side pocket for her racket. "Nope. Tennis practice was cancelled due to the campus wide 'Match Up' experiment."
'Match-Up' sounded like what Annie had done for my birthday, matching me with a series of hot coeds. Well, except for Anita. But she was a hot surprise in her own oversized way. "So that's where all of the students are? Matching up?"
"Kind of." She plopped down in her chair at her desk. Her knees stayed tight together, so no up skirt opportunities. "You don't know about this? It's your daughter's idea, for her math and sociology classes."
"Annie came up with some idea, and the whole campus is participating? Wow!"
"I'll say. That's automatic A's in both courses."
"So how does Match Up work anyway?" Maybe there was a way I could get matched up. There were so many coeds on campus. Nah, I shouldn't be greedy.
"Every male student gets a number, and some random female student gets the same number. Then, they roam around campus looking for their match."
"So if every student is required to participate, where's your number?"
Felice grabbed a pair of panties from her desk drawer, as well as a bowl of M&Ms and a bowl of jelly drops. She tossed a few gumdrops in her mouth and chewed them as she talked. "Annie got me my number early since she knew I'd be late getting back from a visit home. She sewed the number to my panties because she was sure I'd have better time if I wore it down there."
Annie was forcing Felice to flash her panties to show her number. With legs like hers, this was a treat for anyone who approached Felice looking for their match. "But you're not wearing them."
"I know. It's so embarrassing. Like always, Annie is trying to fix me up. Unlike me, your daughter has to beat guys away with a tennis racket."
Or perhaps just beat them off. As in, handjob. "Annie's always been popular."
"No duh. Guys aren't interested in me as a person. And they're always unsubtle. You know, pawing and grabbing. Yuk! And some of them take one look and run away."
"Men shouldn't act that way. But run away from a beautiful woman like you?"
Felice blushed. "Thanks. But I'm not beautiful."
Maybe she hadn't seen herself in a mirror lately, or only the kind used at carnivals. "Stand up and take a look."
She stood next to me, our joint reflection in the mirror. My joint inflated as I stared at her.
She rubbed her hands against her chest. "Beautiful women need something up here."
I hadn't noticed her meager chest. Her face had me from 'Hello." There was something familiar about it, like Felice shared her face with a model or celebrity. Not some movie star or pop culture icon. No, it was something not so blatant. "Every woman is beautiful, in her own way." Even oversized Anita.
"Thanks for saying that. Annie told me you were really good with her friends in high school. Sweet and gentle." She popped another handful of chocolate and jelly bits. "She even told me, in secret, that you'd introduced a few of her high school friends to, you know, intimate stuff."
So Felice knew about the fucking? "I never set out to. Really!"
She poked a finger into her mouth, perhaps to unstick the gummy bits from her teeth. "So how did it happen?"
"More often than not, one of her friends and I would end up in a circumstance that made the activity - how can I explain it? - natural." What was I doing, telling this sexy creature about fucking other young women? Like that's some kind of turn-on?
"Really? Give me an example." The numbered panties hung from her fingertips.