by ProfessorR ©
by Prof. Richard W.
(formerly of the University of ____________)
COLLEGE DAZE
Sophia sighed and tumbled off of me. My dear friend was on vacation from her administrative job at the School for Social Expression -- well, that's the cover name for the Marin County based establishment known within select circles by its real name -- the School for Sexual Expression. Sophia and I had enjoyed a wonderful dinner downstairs, during which I had teased her about whether working in the school with all the young studs learning advanced hypnotic and NLP seduction techniques might have taken away her interest in older guys -- like me, for instance.
She had just proved otherwise, leading me up the stairs to her room in the old Oxford Hotel and mounting me with a delicious grin on her lips -- the same lips that had tempted my penis into rock hardness -- and we had fucked as intensely as back when we first met. That meant tenderly at one moment and wildly in the next. As always, I came deep inside her, something she loved. She had never understood how an average guy like me felt so big, so long, inside. I was about to tell her.
For some reason, I felt very candid with her tonight. I was in a storytelling mode, even though both of us were perspiring and needed the cuddling that followed. Still, I felt a stronger than normal need to talk right then, and she seemed interested in trying to stay awake long enough to listen. I kissed her cheek.
"You always wondered why I would fill you so completely, from such an ordinary start, didn't you?" I queried. Not very subtle, I thought to myself. But Sophia did not seem surprised.
"Yes. I mean, I understand how the size of a man's erection doesn't necessarily relate to his size in a cold shower. But you seem to fit me exactly... and you can explore and caress inside me like you want to stay there forever... or at least till I can't stop the room from spinning." She laughed a deep, sensual laugh and snuggled herself closer. "And then you come when I'm ready for you. When I'm begging for your semen?" Her last sentence was meant to be declarative, but emerged as a question.
"Doesn't that happen with all your men?" I teased her. She laughed, but then turned serious.
"I have to admit that with all those young men around, I've fallen to temptation a few times. Does that make me a bad person?" Sophia offered a rueful smile.
"No, it makes you human," I replied, and kissed her. Our lips stayed together for a long, sensuous kiss, stoked hotter by our shared intimate knowledge.
"But a couple of them... well, three to be exact, never really were all the way in when they came. And they never turned me on from deep inside the way you do every time."
"Was it that they were wearing condoms?"
"That wasn't the reason. I think they were too excited and focused on their own pleasure."
"Well, there you have it," I pronounced in a radio voice. "I'm focusing on your pleasure. That's the difference."
"But how do you do that? Were you always that way?" Her voice was fading.
"If you stay awake for a few minutes longer, I'll tell you." I lowered my voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Hypnosis!" I asserted.
"What do you mean? I know that our students learn to use hypnosis in their seductions, and you've told me stories about other people doing that, but how do you use it? Am I just imagining that I'm being fucked by a master cocksman?" She actually sounded a little peeved when she gave a sarcastic tone to the end of the sentence, as if all her orgasms-upon-orgasms had been revoked.
"It wouldn't matter in your mind if you imagined it deeply or it really happened -- you'd enjoy it either way. It's more fun for ME, though, if it really happens, true?" [Dear reader, if you are a woman, you've already imagined what Sophia is experiencing, yes? And if you are a man, you know what I was just experiencing. There's a thin border line between a good visualization and reality.]
"True," she agreed. "But, start at the beginning, and as long as its a good story, I'll stay awake."
"Well, the beginning was in college. I was in love with a Psych major who came from ____________ (overseas)."
"You never told me about that," Sophia observed -- in that tone that women reserve for comments on information that they feel should have been provided to them on some application form except that the subject had never come up before.
"You didn't ask. It was really love, and I somehow was doing all the right things and that had never happened to me before. I can still remember when I first slipped my hand into her bra. I thought she was going to slap me, but, of course, she had been waiting for me to get up the nerve and she enjoyed my struggle to get in there. It felt so good to discover her nipples pushing up, just like I'd read in some naughty paperbacks that I had run across. And then on the next date, to have her nipples already erect as she thought about me touching them.
"It was the same thing at each stage. I was sure she was going to slap me when I slipped my hand down the front of her jeans and into her panties. Oh, and that was made easier by her change in fashions to wearing loose-fitting, bulky sweaters. To my innocent amazement, she sucked in her tummy to make it easier for me to get there. And her clit -- I had read about women whose clits were hard to find -- her clit was quickly firm and proud. And the next time, I seem to remember it was reaching out from between her lips.
"It wasn't too long before we were thinking in terms of when we would "make love" rather than whether we would have sex." Sophia smiled at me.
"But what about hypnotism?" she queried.
"I'm coming to that. But it wasn't until after we had "done it" a few times."
"What was it like? It's hard to imagine you ever having been a virgin." She laughed at the absurdity.
"Everyone has to start sometime. I was still sure that first time that something was going to go wrong. Even though I had practiced putting on a condom, it seemed to take forever. I remember her wiggling her vagina at me and her tongue touching her lips with eager excitement. Every step of the way, I kept thinking of things that could go wrong, including the possible intrusion of the school's janitor in the room we had appropriated. It felt wonderful to feel her tilting her hips just right for me, and then her heat surrounded me, the scent of her dizzied me, and I came.
"Did she enjoy it?"
"We were in love, so she must have enjoyed the concept and the idea that it was finally happening between us. She glowed, of course. I even noticed certain campus big shots finding excuses to chat with her, attracted to her, so I experienced my first jealousy, too. But I realized from my reading as we progressed that I was shortchanging her.
"I didn't want to say the word, but, yes, I saw an opening. She was learning hypnosis in her psych classes. I had read some chapters in her textbook and had talked with her a bit about it.
"Did she hypnotize you?"
"That's an interesting question. I asked her if she would like to try it on me, without saying what purpose it might have, other than helping with her homework. She told me that she didn't want to hypnotize me. We were too close. Perhaps she was insecure about my motives or feared that she would do some harm.
"Things went on as they typically do in college, until that Spring, when the news from her home country turned ugly. Riots, conspiracies, and then a dictator in power, executing real or perceived enemies. Suddenly, her situation had changed. Her family was on the outs with the new ruling circles, so if she went home, she'd have no way to stay out of trouble.
"All of this came spilling out in a long, sad discussion, in which she explained in effect that for practical reasons, she would have to look for an American to marry so that she could stay in this country. We were wonderful together, but I was not ready for marriage, and perhaps we really were not well suited as a couple for that. She admitted that she had tossed and turned trying to think of a way to make things up to me. She felt that she had taken my time away from other relationships that might have turned out to be right for me. I, of course, disagreed, because I still was in love with her. That made her feel even more guilty.