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Now I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression about my academic career. I certainly didn’t speed through a four year course in just six years by concentrating on quan, qual and delicious English professors. It took constant devotion to alcohol, cannabis and the Rolling Stones.
In fact, in my first year I joined a fraternity, which was summarily dissolved in my second year over incidents that occurred the year before I joined. The legend cited wild parties, a 19-year-old housemother and naked 15-year-olds, but reality pointed to bad grades, unpaid bills few members and marijuana – but the legend does sound better.
One of the fraternity brothers of my year was Tim, whose nickname was ‘Swish’ for reasons the name implies. Fraternities were even more conservative then than they are now. But Tim was a great guy, and the frat, which was not so great, needed members. Tim, an architecture student, kept up appearances by attending parties and Monday night dinners with Elizabeth Stern (above), a very pretty but terribly overweight student of our year.
It was at one of those Monday night dinners when I got my first glimpse of those magnificent boobs. Never been to Wyoming but the Grand Teton Mountains could not be more impressive. She was shy and, in an era of mini-skirts and tight jeans, always conservatively dressed in knee-length-or-longer full dresses. It hid her fat. As I said she was big, but Reubenesque rather than grotesque.
I had known from the very beginning that Tim and Elizabeth had a platonic relationship – for lack of a better description – but I wasn’t sure what it involved. I wanted to take her to dinner or a movie or just for coffee or a drink, to go one-on-one and get to know her – and those boobs. I wasn’t sure I could get this smart, pretty, always busy, Catholic girl in my bed, but I was sure she hadn’t been in Tim’s. Besides, maybe she didn’t want to go out with me, and she was after all a few pounds overweight.
Friday, eating sandwiches with Tim and Binx at Mr. Ed’s, across from the language building I mentioned Elizabeth and her pretty eyes. They were sky blue and if I hadn’t been otherwise distracted I might have paid more attention to them. Tim advised, defensively: “I’ll tell her you said so. We’re going to see Streetcar tonight.” Well, that wasn’t the tact I needed.
I could see Tim was less than enthusiastic about my talking about Elizabeth Stern. I didn’t want to mess with Tim, but the more I thought of it the more I wanted to spend an evening lost in Elizabeth’s tits.
That evening about eleven I took a coffee break at work — high school football stories – and called Elizabeth. I asked how Stanley and Stella were and whether she could meet me after I finished work in about an hour.
She said yes. I didn’t get much work done in the next hour.
# # #
We met at Napoleon House across from the courts building. I arrived about first and got a table under one of the arches that open onto St. Louis Street. One of the white-shirted waiters – rude and incompetent as they all are – brought me a cup of coffee and chicory and a thimble of Calvados. (Jeanne, my beatnik girlfriend in high school, introduced Calva and me.) I intended to pour the Normandy brandy in the coffee, but the aroma of apples – and the taste of fall – overtook me, and I sipped the brandy and let the coffee get cold.
I saw Elizabeth coming down Chartres, her long dark, waist-length hair blowing in all directions. When Elizabeth arrived, I held her seat and signaled the waiter for two more Calvados and coffees.
“You are indeed the gentleman, holding the chair for your lady guest, and ordering for her.” Not sure if I had been insulted or complimented.
“What can I say? Here, you look a bit chilly. The Calva and the coffee will warm you up.”
The manic side of my soul had already taken over, and I suggested we sit in a quiet, romantic corner near the fireplace. The waiter was apparently glad we did, because before we even got to our new table he was closing all the French doors.
We sat facing each other and talked about Streetcar, the theater department’s version and the film with Marlin Brando and Vivien Lee. I mentioned that I had once taken the “bus named Desire” to the Ninth Ward, but I doubt that was very impressive. I don’t remember much of what we said. The whole time I was staring at those boobs.
We both knew this was all just babble, a dance around the subject. As the waiter was fetching another round of Calva – no coffee this time – Elizabeth stopped the ballet: “Why did you ask me here.”
“I was enchanted by your wonderful blue eyes and. . .”
“And bahis firmaları my boobs,” she finished my statement.
“Yes, you do have large breasts, but I was going to ask about on you and Tim.”
“What about Tim? You know I’ve been dating Tim almost exclusively since September. He’s the sweetest man I know.”
“In more ways than one. I love Tim, great guy and all. And I have no intention of breaking up your charade. But you are terribly pretty, with great blue eyes, beautiful hair and, yes, those tempting boobs. I fully believe that you deserved to be wined, dined and wooed by a man who wants to get in your pants. Since Tim is obviously not that man, I have volunteered me for the job.”
“Of getting in my pants?”
“More or less, but I really do I want to take you to movies, dinner, late night drinks, things like that. Real dates: holding hands, making out in the park, telling each other to go to hell after the third date. And, of course, I want to get in your pants.”
I braced myself for a chair coming my way from across the table or a brandy glass or a candle. Instead I got: “Then, I guess, this is our first date.”
I took a deep breath and sat back in my chair and took a sip of Calvados. “I guess it is.”
We sat in our corner until closing time, discussing everything from Daedalus to Isaac Azimov to Jim Garrison. And we talked about ourselves and each other and my getting in her pants and her in mine. But, mostly we talked about Tim. She said she was quite happy to have a male friend whom she could talk to, and who accepted her for her mind, and she admitted that Tim showed no interest at all in other parts of her. And we talked and we talked and we talked. I knew I had to fuck her. The manic part of me was ignoring the caution signs.
When the waiters kicked us out – not very civilly – we walked over to Dauphine where I had parked by Triumph. She helped me put the top up and I helped her into the low passenger seat. Her big tits briefly pressed against my leg. After flopping in my seat and pressing the ignition button, I was about to reach over and kiss her, but those caution signs kept jumping into my head. I handed her the blanket I kept behind the seats and apologized for not having a heater. (With British sports cars of the era you could have heat or headlights but not both.) It wasn’t really that cold. The wind was what made it uncomfortable, and the canvass top and side curtains provided minimal protection. We traveled down St. Charles Avenue in silence, neither of us wanted to break the spell and, of course, my car had no radio.
Pulling in front of the women’s residences, I turned the engine off, and took a breath. “I’m not so sure I should kiss you. Like you said, first date and everything.”
“You silly boy.” And she put her soft hand around my neck, and pulled my head toward her. It was a long, wet, most exciting kiss. I pulled her close – as close as is possible in a Triumph. I put my hand on her large breasts. I bit her neck. She gobbled up my ear. I could detect a sigh as we made out under the street lamps along McAlister Drive in the middle of campus.
My hand reached for her exposed thigh. She put her hand on my hand – not grabbing or pushing it away. Just touching.
“Not now. Maybe later. We’ll know when it’s time.” And we kissed again, as wet and as exciting as the first time. I lightly touched her breast again, as firm and exciting as in my dreams. When we broke our embrace I jumped out and raced to open the door for her, but she was already out. “I can open my own doors.” Before I could say anything, she said: “Come, let’s go for a walk.”
And so we did, holding hands as we strolled past the auditorium and the arena and across Freret Street and up the Gibson Mall, passing the latest load of drunken couples and singles just poured from the late streetcar. As we neared the entrance to the college of architecture, she pulled my arm and dragged me into the recessed entrance, pushed me against the wall, and pressed those big tits against my chest and proceeded to devour me. I put my hand under her sweater, reached around to unfasten her bra, softly put my hand on one of those terribly delicious tits and gently squeezed., They were as firm as I expected and just holding one and the other in my hands was exciting enough to feel my cock getting hard. Elizabeth could, too. She pressed her thigh against my crotch.
In the dark of that recessed entry, further hidden from late walkers on the Mall, Elizabeth – soft-spoken, shy, studious Elizabeth, demure in demeanor, conservative in fashion – proceeded to grab my cock and purr in my ear. I think kaçak iddaa the word is gasp, a very pleasant gasp. I was on the verge of coming – premature ejaculation, I think they call it – when Elizabeth stood, released cock: “Let’s go inside. I think the time is now.” I was ready to follow her anywhere.
The building was unlocked, so I followed that wide ass up three flights of stairs to the first year studio/classroom. The room was large and square, filled with drafting boards, tables and desks. Two walls of full-size windows let in the dim light from the soft street lamps below, the only light in the room, the only light we needed. Elizabeth shut the door, wrapped herself around my shoulders, and proceeded to devour me with kisses as many as the grains of Libyan sand (Catullus). She planted love marks on my neck and nibbled my ear lobes, and her tongue traced the curves of my ear. I put my hand to her chest and let my fingers press her breasts through the cashmere. Now that was an exciting experience. Then she deftly removed her sweater, exposing those absolutely grand tits, as big as I ever imagined they would be.
She unzipped me. My cock seemed to just spring through my shorts. She began playing with my cock and my balls. Teasingly passing a finger up and down the shaft, the top and the sensitive bottom. It was already throbbing and a bit of pre-cum was on the tip. My hand on one of Elizabeth’s big breasts would have been exciting in itself, if Elizabeth, her hand wrapped around my dick, hadn’t broken the silence: “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” And her smile lit up the room.
“Do you have to ask?”
And, she went down to her knees and licked that pre-cum off the tip. She licked my cock and then my balls for what seemed like forever. I was eager for her to take me, but I was steady enough now to keep from going nuts. She wrapped my cock in her long brown hair and slid the strands up and down my shaft. All this time, those blue eyes were staring at me from below. She cupped my balls, bunched tight against my body, and took me. All the way. I was in heaven. She sucked and sucked, my cock sliding in and out and in and out again. She moved her lips to the very edge of my cock as if to stop. When she did, it was to give more attention to my balls. She sat up from her kneeling position, grabbed my cock and set it between those magnificent boobs, pressing and rubbing my cock between them. I thought I would erupt in her face. But I held on.
We stood again and kissed, a wet, fleshy kiss. I could taste my juices which she had left on her tongue. I bent down and began sucking on the nipples, which grew long and hard between my lips and teeth. I put my arms around her neck and tried to kiss her gently, my hand fondling her breasts. She unbuttoned my shirt, and passed her hands over my chest and pressed those delicious tits against me. I moved my hands up and down her sides, eliciting more purrs.
“That’s so good, Jack, so good.” I ran one hand up her back, kneading her spine until I found that spot. She shuttered and purred, and whispered, “You’re making me fall in love with you, you know.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I know, but it’s so much more fun that way.”
At that point, I unfastened and unzipped her skirt. She stepped out of it when it fell to the floor. Yes, her legs and ass were a bit large, but her tits more than made up for that. I reached down to rub my hand over vagina through her cotton panties, probing her moist pubic hairs and sliding my finger past her clit and over her vagina.
More purrs and shutters as I reached into her panties to stroke her long clit. I knelt to take her panties off, brushing my face against her bush. Her legs parted just enough to allow me to briefly taste her love juices. In silence she moved to a large table, shoved a pile of drafting tools to the floor and sat, her legs invitingly spread. And, so I went to one knee and accepted the invitation.
Elizabeth’s aroma, her essence, was directing me to her rosebud. Licking long and deep through her pussy, stopping to suck and even bite her clit, I was transformed by her ambrosia. I couldn’t get enough. I sucked and pulled with my lips, my tongue moving up and around. I could hear the moans and groans and purrs, as she lay back on the table. When she would twitch, her legs, large, round and not-quite soft, would shut around my head, sometimes for just an instant, other times for long, drawn-out moments when I thought I would certainly drown in her juices or be wonderfully smothered in her pussy. A marvelous way to go. I gripped her ass, which was firmer than expected, in an effort to push my face kaçak bahis deeper and deeper inside her, if that were possible.
She tried to lift herself into a sitting position, and tried a second time by pulling on my hair for leverage – that hurt. When I rose, I grabbed her arms and pulled her close to me, her legs holding my hips as if in a vice.
We now kissed long and hard and continual for what seemed like forever. I fondled her breast and she pressed her pussy against my cock. The table was too high, but Elizabeth quickly solved that problem when she jumped down from the table, grabbed an nearby chair and bent over. So, to the whirrs and whistles of the trolley bus on Freret Street I took Elizabeth Stern.
# # #
I bruskly slipped inside her and pumped strong and rapid, slamming my body against her ass as my cock rammed her vagina, penetrating as deeply as I could. I was groaning, it seemed, with each stroke, and Elizabeth was so obviously loving it, too, with moans and oh-my-gods. She was tight. Oh she was tight, gripping my cock like a vise. I put my hands on her hips to guide her and myself.
“Here it comes. Here it comes.” She was nearly screaming. “Oh, I love you, Jack. I love you, Jack. I love you, Jack.” She shook and twitched, tossing her head back. As her breath began to return, she said: “Again, Jack. Yes. Again. Tell me you love me, Jack, tell me you love me.”
And she exploded again, with moans and screams and shouts of, “I love you, Jack.”
I still wasn’t sure about the love thing. I was obsessed with her and wanted all of her, all of her. By then the urge to come had become so strong, and I exploded along with her in a storm of juices and a chorus of moans from us both. And muffled screams of “Jack. I love, you Jack. Jack, tell me you love me back.” And, of course, “I love you, Beth.” It was like setting off firecrackers. She just shook and shook and nearly broke the chair.
After a few moments my cock went limp and our positions became awkward. Elizabeth stood and turned around and we held each other tightly, our juices drizzling down our legs.
“See, that love thing is great, isn’t it?”
She turned the chair around and shoved me in the seat. She stood over me and pushed her tits in my face. After a few minutes of sucking at the nipples and burying my face in them I was back.
At that point, I guess, she took me, the way I was supposed to take her. With her legs spread she moved over me, took my cock in her hands and put it in its place. She cupped my face in her hands and kissed me softly. Then she began to ride, letting my cock plunge deeper and deeper inside her as it grew. She placed her hands on my shoulders to steady herself, alternately bending her head down to bite my neck or tossing her head back. I massaged her tits. She was in control, and her moans, turning to not-so-muffled screams, led to another round “I love you, Jack.”
At this time I was indeed going nuts. These huge tits pressed against me, and this desirable woman professing her love for me and riding my cock up and down and up and down. “This is the big one, my love. Yes. O god. The big one.” I was just about to lose it, too, and I whispered, “Come, Beth, come. I love you” She looked up to the ceiling and let it all come one last time: “Ooooooooo. I love you, Jack. I love you so much. Aaaaaaah. Come with me, Jack, come with me. Oh, Lawrence. Oh, Jack.” And, I did, with moans and groans of my own, and whispered calls of “Jack and Beth and love.”
She fell over me in exhaustion, her entire weight pressing against me. But as long as I was hard enough to remain inside her I didn’t notice or mind. Even without a hard-on, I was enjoying just being inside her. I am sure she was too because the moment my deflated cock slipped from her pussy, she kissed me with all the passion of a woman in love.
We now noticed it was cold in the room, and caressed each other to keep warm before slowly getting dressed.
We picked up the drawing tools from the floor and walked back to the women’s residences, holding hands like any other couple on a first date.
“I hope you don’t think I still love you,” she said as we crossed the street. “But it’s so much fun being in love when making love.” At the door to her residence, we kissed goodnight and said goodbye.
I put the top down on the Triumph and drove along the River Road to Destrahan before coming back and crossing the bridge at Harahan to take the West Bank River Road home. I thought of Elizabeth the whole way. How could I not? Her scent was all about me and my cock could still feel her grip. And I thought about “being in love when making love.”
Elizabeth and I continued to fall madly in love with each other two or three times every term… until she fell in love for real with Tim’s brother. They have been married now for 40 years.
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