“Hey, Joe! You’re still here! Come sit with me,” Joan calls across the college cafeteria. I don’t know her well, but I have run into her a bunch of times at parties, and she’s always bubbly fun to talk to.
I’m especially happy to see her now, because classes ended yesterday and the campus is practically deserted. They’re keeping the dorms open through tonight for those of us that need extra time to move to summer accommodations or arrange transportation back home, but it’s already damned quiet.
“Are you heading out today, or staying this last night?” Joan asks.
“Tonight too. I think I’m the only one left in my dorm.”
“I was the only one on my floor last night,” shares Joan. “Even with Campus Safety patrolling the halls every hour, it was really creepy. I will be completely alone in the whole building tonight, and to be honest, it makes me nervous. I was even thinking of splurging on a hotel room.”
I can understand how this would make most women uncomfortable – and that the periodic echo of footsteps down the hall might even make it creepier. “Well, I’d be happy to keep you company, at least until you go to bed – or I can sleep on your couch – if that will help you feel safer and save you the expense of a hotel.”
“I would really like that, Joe.” She stands up to leave, having finished her lunch ahead of me. “I’ve got to go and get some stuff done this afternoon, but can you come to Room 347 around six or seven? If you bring some Thai food and a bottle of Sloe Gin, we can even call it a party!” I’ve heard before that she likes Sloe Gin, so this part of the request doesn’t surprise me.
“Sounds a lot better than what I had planned,” which is nothing. I almost add “It’s a Date,” but catch myself in time and say “See you then,” instead. C’mon, Joe, the last thing she needs is for a guy to presume a quid pro quo just for making her feel safe.
Not that I wouldn’t enjoy a date with Joan Bauer someday, mind you. Maybe in the Fall, Joe, if you impress her with your gentlemanliness tonight. Besides being friendly and fun, she’s beautiful, with a cute round face and long blonde curls. Not to mention what, in my opinion, is a hot body: on the wide side for many guys’ tastes, but that is a-okay with me. More of her to love, as far as I’m concerned.
Again, no presumption. But a guy can hope.
= = = = = = = =
I show up right at six, with the requested consumables. She never said which Thai dishes she likes or whether she is vegetarian, so I’ve made sure to cover all the bases by getting Pad Thai with tofu, Pad See Ew with beef, and Massaman curry with chicken. It turns out that she’s good with all three, so we can split everything. While I open the food containers, Joan busies herself making drinks.
“What can I make you, Joe? I haven’t got much left in the way of mixers, but I still have lemon juice, tonic, soda water and OJ. So I can offer you something close to a Sloe Gin Fizz, a Sloe and Tonic, or a Sloe Screw. Since the Sloe Gin is the only alcohol, I’ll make these kinda weak, but I always do that anyway, so I can drink them like beer without getting too plastered.”
“Fine by me. I can live without a ‘Bama Slammer. How about a Fizz?”
“Fizz it is,” she says zestily. “I’ll have the same for now, though I must warn you, later on I may start hankering for a Sloe Screw.” She says this perfectly deadpan, with not a hint of flirtiness, so I try not to infer anything. Keep your dick in your pants and your thoughts out of hers. Also, this could be a test.
The conversation continues enthusiastically, without touching on relationships, as we enjoy our meal and drinks. Then, a couple hours and three drinks in, both of us tipsy but less than hammered, Joan blurts, “Hey, I know he transferred away last year, but I saw Eric Jackson walking out of your building this morning.” With a playing-dumb expression, she asks, “Any idea who he was visiting?”
I blush, my face turning as red as the liquor. Joan’s mouth curls into a full smirk. “He was … uh, visiting … me.”
“Oh, that is juicy. I would not have called that one.” After a pause during which I remain at a loss for speech, her face straightens and she adds, “At least one of us got laid last night.”
I almost spit out my drink. Joan bursts out laughing. I do like this woman.
Recovering, I explain. “He and I got together once a couple of years ago, but it went kinda sideways. Then he ran into me in the Quad yesterday – which you saw – and wanted to make an apology.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “An all-night apology?”
“Also, he wanted to thank me because he said that eventually led him to realize he’s gay.”
Joan pouts.
“Sorry. I realize that’s a bit of a loss for you ladies.” More slyly, I add, “Actually, I can confirm it’s a pretty big loss.”
Her eyes go wide for a second, but then she says, “Oh well, we’ll survive. We women still have access to plenty of other hot guys. And sometimes each other.”
“I get that. Eric was a ‘sometimes each other’ for me.”
Joan’s face flushes. Oops, have I gone too far in pointedly telling her that I like women, too? C’mon, Joe, you promised yourself not to hit on her.
She abruptly changes the subject, asking if I want to see some card tricks, and producing a deck.
I consider myself a smart person, but I have never understood these, and Joan stumps me over and over again. How can she guess the card I’m holding in my hand, or produce the card I looked at two minutes ago from behind her ear? I don’t get it, and she is not giving up any of her secrets tonight.
I wonder if there’s something else she’d give up tonight, I think briefly, then push the thought away. Stop it, Joe. Just stop it.
Fortunately, she changes things up before I get flustered with the card tricks (or myself), skillfully shuffling the deck and dealing us each some cards. “How about a game?” I’m glad we don’t get into the old argument about whether the proper term is card sharp or card shark, because that is precisely what she appears to be.
“Sure. What do you have in mind?” I’m guessing it will be poker.
“How about Crazy Eights? That’s my favorite.” I guessed wrong.
The first game goes on seemingly forever, as Crazy Eights sometimes does. Just as one or the other of us seems almost out of cards, we draw a bunch. We end up reshuffling twice before I finally win. Giggling a bit, perhaps from the alcohol, she seems excited rather than frustrated by the suspense, so we keep playing. Evidently, this really is her favorite. We play another six or eight, her enthusiasm never flagging, before asking, “Wanna make it interesting?”
I grab my wallet and pull out some ones and fives, all I’ve got, sheepishly asking, “How interesting are we talking about?”
She reaches down and pulls off a sock, an eyebrow cocked as she replies, “This interesting.”
“Deal me in,” I stammer. “Can’t says I’ve ever played Strip Crazy Eights.”
“Well, I’ll be proud to ‘deflower’ you in that department.”
“Let me make it fair, at least,” I reply, pulling off one of my own socks.
“That’s the spirit, Joe!” she challenges. “Speed up your demise,” she adds with confidence.
I lose the first two games, and with them my other sock and then my shirt. “Oh, Joe, you’ve lost your shirt already,” she mock-pouts.
“I’m just letting you get overconfident,” I bluster.
“No way. Crazy Eights is my game. I’m going to have you naked within five minutes.”
A smarter reply would be “And then what?” but my best is, “We’ll see about that.”
“Oh, I’ll be the one doing the seeing, Joe.”
Damn, I’m losing the banter in addition to the card games. And then I lose another of those, now down to my underwear.
“I’m going to be seeing all of you soon enough, Joe Barnes,” she taunts. “But let me offer you a deal. You take a shot of Sloe Gin, and I’ll spot you a garment. You can even help me take it off.”
“Deal.”
“How do you want to do this?” she prompts, holding up the bottle as she walks around to my side of the table and fills a shot glass. “Fast … or Sloe?”
I take a sip, smirking.
“Sloe it is,” she says seductively, undoing the button of her jeans and stepping closer. “Why don’t you help me with these? Just remember to go … Sloe.”
I slowly pull down the zipper, slip a finger inside the waistband, then pause dramatically to take another sip of my shot. I run my fingers slowly around inside the waistband, again stopping several times for sips. Finally, as I start pulling her pants down, she turns away from me and shimmies, gradually revealing … oh my God, her big bare ass. She’s not wearing panties.
“See, Joe, you’re not as far …” – and at this she shakes her jiggly posterior – “… behind as you thought.”
There are footsteps in the hall and then a knock on the door. It’s the security guard. “Everything okay, Miss Bauer? It’s almost ten. I’ll keep making the rounds, but last time I’m going to knock and check.”
“Yes, Juan, everything is totally hunky-dory. Thanks for checking.”
We play another game. I lose. That’s it for my underwear. “Why don’t you help me with this one?” I challenge. “Remember, go Sloe.”
Smirking, she walks around the table again, offering the first view I’ve had of her pussy. She has a dark-blonde bush, trimmed in coverage but luxuriant in thickness, with some labia visible as well. Oh my God, even her pussy looks perfect. Can this be happening? Just don’t rush things, Joe.
She kneels in front of me and my bulging briefs. I can actually feel her hot breath through the fabric as she traces a pink fingernail from the tip of my bulge up the length of the shaft, then runs a finger of each hand under my waistband before slowly pulling down. First she reveals my pubes, then the base of my cock, then more and more of my (modest) length. Finally, she pulls it over the rim of the glans before I pop out, bumping her face.
“Careful, Joe, you could poke an eye out with that thing. Which,” she adds with a playful lick of precum off my tip, “would be a few inches higher than I want it. But the game’s not over yet. Someone has to lose while they’re naked, and then we’ll see who gets Winner’s Choice.” I guess this is happening. Savor the buildup, Joe.
She finally loses one. Pouting, she walks over and faces away from me. “Sloe, remember?” I reach around to unbutton her top, my hands very slightly cupping her more-than-a-handfuls. She shudders and steps back, grinding her naked butt against my erection. As soon as I pull the blouse over her shoulders, I give her nape a teasing flick of my tongue, producing a whimper.
But she’s not ready to go at it. She wants to win this game fair and square, even wearing nothing but the bra holding up her big boobs. Boy, she’s dragging this out. Boy, I don’t mind.
I lose again.
= = = = = = = =
Excited but anxious, I ask, “So what’s Winner’s Choice going to be?”
“One minute of you doing exactly as I ask.” She walks over to me, bends over and sticks her ass in my face. “Now lick.” She looks at her watch, which I just realized she’s also wearing, further reducing whatever chance of winning I still had. “I’m timing you.”
Well, I just licked a man’s hairy ass for the first time last night. I certainly can lick a woman’s smooth one tonight. And I do. Joan hums her approval, especially as I pull her cheeks apart and apply some tongue pressure to her hole. With a few seconds left, my tongue strains to reach towards her pussy lips, but she steps away and admonishes, “Uh-uh. Not yet. You can taste me on two conditions. First, some guys have trouble making me cum, so I’m going to ask you to keep licking me until I do, before I will make you cum. The second thing is, you won’t be putting your thing in here.” She points to her pussy. “No one gets in. I made a pledge. Can you agree to those things?”
Hell, I’m already on my knees and ready to beg. “Joan, I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do. Whatever we do together will be wonderful.”
She gleefully takes my hand and leads me to her bed. Clearly knowing how she wants this (and me) to go down, she has me lie back and straddles my face. I nuzzle her fur with my nose and lick some of her sweet nectar off the outside of her labia, then explore their delightfully intricacy with my tongue, clamping my lips around before taking a quick flick of her clit and then plunging into her wetness.
“Oh my God, Joe, that feels so good. I knew you were a sure … bet.”
I reach up to cup her low-hanging fruits, then gently caress them. I lightly pinch and twist her nipples, listening carefully to her moans as I gradually increase the pressure. Once I think I’ve got that right, I squeeze them together, the nipples almost touching as I continue working on her pussy parts with my mouth. She starts rocking her hips, and I do my best to synchronize my efforts to the movements of her body.
I don’t know what kind of slobs she’s been with before that couldn’t make her cum, because it ends up not being that hard. Just takes a few minutes of giving her body the attention that it absolutely deserves. She starts shaking and shuddering and jiggling and making little squeals as she rides my face through her orgasm, leaving my face soaked.
“That was really nice, Joe,” Joan says sweetly, kneeling to kiss me and licking some of her juice off my cheeks. “Now here’s my end of the bargain.” She slowly kisses and licks her way over my pecs, my abs (okay, my belly – you can’t actually see my abs), my treasure trail, and draws a wet line the length of my cock from the base to the tip, where a nice fat drop of precum is ready for her to sample. “Mmm, tasty,” she purrs, before taking my length in her mouth, working her lips and tongue with a fair amount of skill while she bobs up and down, also stroking me from the base at the same time.
I don’t last long. “Oh my God, Joan, I’m going to cum!” I exclaim as much for warning as out of pleasure, while I start cresting the peak and start spurting. She takes me deeper at the first spurt and gulps it down as fast as I give it to her.
Now she gets more lovey-dovey, curling up next to me and engaging me in a long, slow tongue kiss, our emissions mingling, sweet with bitter, tangy with salty. Always a magical elixir.
After a few minutes of kissing and cuddling interspersed with occasional pillow talk, Joan asks, “So last night, with Eric, did you guys … have … um, intercourse?”
“Yes, we did.”
“So you know what you’re doing, back there?”
“I haven’t done it very many times, but I have a pretty fair idea.”
“You know how I said you can’t fuck my pussy?”
“Yes, and I have no problem honoring your wishes.”
“Well, how about my ass?” More quietly, she murmurs, “Please?”
I nod.
“Would you warm me up, baby?” she asks, sitting on my face again, but this time facing the other way so I have better access to her asshole. I use my hands to pull the cheeks apart, and spend a couple of minutes licking everything, from the top of her ass crack, past her cunt crack and up around her clit. Up and down, left and right, bathing all her private parts – including the really private, anterior parts – with my tongue. Only then do I start pressing harder against her hole with my muscular tongue, keeping the pressure on. She’s been moaning lightly through it all, but then I hear her utter “Ohhhh!” and I sense her hole loosening. My tongue now in the inch-plus that it will go, I wiggle it, provoking a squeal, followed by a gasp of “I think I’m ready.”
Initially she lies on her back. Caressing her face and maintaining continuous eye contact, I lubricate my cockhead against her sopping pudenda, making gentle affirmations and assuring her that I am not going to try to stick it in there, and then press it into the little hollow around her pulsing asshole. My tongue has loosened it a bit, but not yet enough for a penis, so I just hold it there with gentle pressure. Soon, I feel her relaxing, but I know not to slide it all the way in quite yet. Over a period of at least a minute, I hear her gasping with pleasure as I gradually find myself further and further inside, and then hold myself still once I reach maximum depth.
Joan wraps her arms around my neck and pulls my head in, kissing me tenderly on the lips. “That feels incredible, Joe. You are so gentle, it doesn’t hurt at all. Now that you’re in, can I be on top?”
I wrap an arm around Joan’s hip and manage to flip us over without my pulling out. She sits upright, rocking her hips and getting a good feel for my cock in her ass, encouraging me to reach up and squeeze her melons as I’d done when she rode my face earlier. We go on and on with a rhythm that isn’t fast enough to get either of us worked up, nor so slow that either of us loses arousal.
This slow ride (and, I guess, Sloe ride, though that has mostly worn off by now) continues for a long time, until eventually Joan gets a little more excited and leans forward, grinding her pussy hard against me. This position also fills my face with her boobs, which I give all my reasonably talented mouth has got, my hands helping squeeze them together. It only takes a couple minutes of tit-sucking and clit-grinding to bring her over the edge, and I follow not long after, filling a woman’s ass with jizz for the first time.
Not a bad way to end the school year.
