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(Midterm Maelstrom, continued...)
You nod your assent, too turned on just at the moment to trust your voice. It has been epochs, absolutely eons, since anyone but you has touched your pussy. When was the last time someone licked you there? When was the last time someone licked your pussy and meant it? You quickly trade places with Mike: you are slouching in the ratty easy chair, he is on his hands and knees in front of you.
A quick look around confirms it: nobody is looking. You hike up your skirt, and with one quick move, you yank your panties off. Your pussy is naked and wet. You wad up your damp-crotched green-and-red-striped panties and cram them into your jacket pocket.
Oh, and he is good too! You can feel his breath on your oozing pussy. Your clit trembles with anticipation. His stubble scratches on your inner thigh. You raise your knees up toward your chest, pointing your toes at the ceiling. The tip of his tongue traces your slit, meandering up and down, tormenting your aching clit. You groan and rock your hips forward, urging him on, but he takes his sweet, sweet time.
You can feel his tongue invading your pussy, probing its way up between your swollen lips. It dances down between your butt cheeks, probing the dark secret area approaching your anus, then darts upward again. Finally, at long last, he finds your clit, fluttering like a monarch butterfly migrating home. He licks you playfully, unrelentingly, bringing you to the very edge. Your clit feels like a white dwarf about to go supernova. You are making noises, squirming in the chair, trying to get more of his tongue onto your pulsating, hyper-excited clitoris. He keeps pulling back at the critical moment, and it is driving you insane.
Just when you really, seriously can’t take any more, when you are ready to cry out with frustration, push him aside and finish it yourself, he takes the plunge. Thick fingers invade your pussy. A long, slippery finger slides up your asshole. The flat of his tongue presses hard against your aching clit and squirms.
You come hard and long and loud, like a swiftly bursting summer thunderstorm, rolling thunder that goes on and on. Your legs kick wildly in the air, your head lolls from side to side. It feels like it’s never going to stop.
At last it does stop, fitfully, with jolting aftershocks. Mike comes up for air, grinning widely, your wetness slick on his face. You are gasping for breath.
You look around. Lara and Professor Sullivan are no longer in the couch; they have apparently migrated somewhere more private. The noise of the modified Axis and Allies game still filters up from downstairs. The Delmsey twins have put down their game of Cat’s Cradle, and are staring at you, silent and wide-eyed.
“Thank you!” you manage at last.
“My pleasure.” Mike says, and he means it.
“Would you like to fuck me now?” you ask, “Or should I just go down on you?”
As far as you can tell, the Delmsey twins haven’t even blinked. They are staring like a pair of weird, pale owls.
Mike blushes. He actually blushes. “Um,” he says, “I can’t. I have a girl back home in Oshkosh, and we’re trying to stay monogamous. We have phone sex and do webcams. It’s hard, but so far it’s working out. So no thanks. But do you mind if I masturbate?”
You don’t mind, no not at all.
You pull your cami down around your middle so he can come on your tits if he likes, and he does seem to like. He quickly unbuttons his jeans, fishing out his hard, red-hot, juicy-looking cock. It isn’t the biggest dick you’ve ever seen, but that is more than ok, and it is beautiful. You catch tantalizing glimpses of his football-player body, hard, toned abs, veiny muscular thighs, and you wish you could see more.
You encourage him softly, playing with your nipples and leaning in for a better view as he jerks off. The head of his dick is swollen like an over-ripe nectarine, leaking clear, sticky pre-come. You can feel the Delmsey twins staring, and you let one finger wander up your skirt, idly stroking your still-wet pussy as he pumps himself faster and faster.
His breathing changes, becoming faster and raspier. He is rocking back and forth, clenching his buttocks. His forehead is wrinkled, his eyes are half-lidded, his entire being is focused on coming.
At last, with a drawn-out, chocking gasp, he comes. The semen shoots out of his cock with amazing force, splashing onto your breasts in big hot sticky white puddles. His cock trembles again and again as he continues stroking, slower now, lost in pleasure. You spread his come around your boobs, sampling his salty-bittersweet taste.
Finally he is done. His penis is soft, one last big fat drop of semen hovers on the very tip as he tucks his cock away and buttons up his pants. You wish you could have licked him clean, but that is not to be, not tonight.
He smiles sheepishly and thanks you as you use your wadded-up panties to swab your chest clean. You like the way his come smells on you. The Delmsey twins have gone back to their game of Cat’s Cradle.
You pull up your cami, straighten out your skirt, and thank Mike one more time. He smiles and shakes your hand, an almost painfully fetching mixture of confidence and shyness. You wonder what that cock of his would feel like to hold in your hand, to have in your mouth, sliding up your wet pussy or gently invading your asshole. You guess you’ll probably never find out.
You put on your jacket, with the messy, stuck-together, crumpled panties in the pocket, and head out into the cool night air for the half-mile trek back to your dorm. You do, after all, have a paper to write.