Why was I there? That’s what I was thinking. I disliked waitressing more than any of the many jobs my mother insisted were good for me. But there I was offering canapés to people in suits and cocktail dresses. It was another of the seemingly endless rounds of what the university called development. That’s basically hitting people up for money.
I circulated, trying to look enthusiastic and friendly. There was a man, though. I noticed him early on, checking me out. Not offensively, but… you know how it is. I was a seventeen-year-old freshman, no super babe but young and fit, so I was used to the male stare. A high school girlfriend once told me that I was more hot than pretty. I’m still not sure what that means but I guess it was meant as a compliment.
While I was in the collection area, waiting for a fresh tray, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. Black skirt, white shirt. The skirt wasn’t really short, although it was tight and form-fitting. My figure was young-womanly but by no means buxom. To me, I looked like half the girls around campus.
I glanced often, and I hoped surreptitiously, at the man. He was still paying me a lot of visual attention. “Quite good-looking,” I thought to myself. His skin was the shade a Black friend in my dorm called Cafe au Lait, a warm beige color. He was over six feet with a muscular build, like a former athlete, maybe.
Eventually, he spoke to me. Exchanges that lasted seconds as I made my rounds. His voice was warm and deep. Seductive, I suppose you could say. Oh yeah! He was interested and I was flattered. I mean, I was seventeen and he must have been at least thirty-five. He was well dressed and, probably, something of a big deal if he was invited to this event.
The reception was at the university’s guest house, which was actually a refurbished small hotel owned by the school. How I later found myself being led to his room remains something of a mystery to me. He was genial and humorous, everything that would impress a girl. And I was impressed.
I was not a virgin. I’d had sex with one boy, I was sure for a few weeks, I was in love with. But we’d done it only three times. That was the extent of my experience. So no, I wasn’t sexually sophisticated. But I was curious. When I went upstairs with him, real sex wasn’t even in my mind. Maybe we’d just make out and I’d let him feel me up.
We stopped at his door and he moved behind me to use the key card. He leaned his body against my back. I definitely stiffened in surprise, but I was also excited by the hard bulge he pressed into my back. Of course, I’d heard girls in the dorm describing their romps with BBC and all that. But mostly I took it for boastful mythology. But this was…really big!
The light was on in the room. Soft lighting, warm and comfortable. I didn’t notice much else because he began to kiss and caress me. He held my body against his so I felt the length of hardness, from my tummy to lower chest. I swallowed hard and tried to pretend I wasn’t intimidated by it.
Very soon my nipples were rigid from his kissing and sucking, there was dampness between my legs and a quivering in my legs. He paused and unbuckled his trousers. When he drew them down, I positively gawked at the long thickness of him. And it wasn’t even fully hard yet! It was obvious where were headed but, hey, I was seventeen, and my brain was not totally functioning at that moment. Besides, I wanted to see what would happen.
I sat on the edge of the bed as he undressed completely. Then he moved to face me, his penis just inches from my face. It was much darker than the rest of him, like semi-sweet chocolate. Very thick and meaty, with prominent veins that seemed to bulge and throb. A large drop of clear liquid slowly emerged from the very tip. He pressed his member forward, gently smearing the liquid across my lips. Instinctively, my tongue flicked to taste the dampness. Slightly syrupy, but clean tasting. Taking it in his hand, he ran the tip around my face, leaving a trail of the liquid where it touched. I sat there a few seconds, nearly mesmerized.
I couldn’t resist reaching to wrap my hand around it. He was still not totally hard but my touching made his penis jump and twitch. I closed both hands around it and squeezed tight. He asked me to suck it. I shook my head, but I did kiss it and lick just a little. It gave off a slightly musky, but pleasant, smell. Then he pushed me back onto the bed and slung my body around. Very quickly, he was on top of me. Without my thinking about it, my legs spread and he very slowly pushed that big thing into my vagina.
I was tight, despite my wetness, but he didn’t force himself into me. A little at a time, I absorbed him with the oddest feeling of being blown up like a balloon! I couldn’t guess at the actual length of his penis, but it was more the thickness that I remember. When he was several inches deep, he began to thrust in and out. Faster and harder. Deeper each time. He was getting more and more excited. The bed didn’t actually squeak, but I did, with every driving thrust. At first, I made soft whimpering sounds, then louder grunts as he bounced me hard on the bed. His dick was rigid enough now that I felt like I was being spiked to the bed frame. It was far different than fumbling in the backseat with another teenager.
My eyes began to tear from exertion, and I thought my insides might burst. At that moment, he let out a drawn-out moan and I felt a hot jet deep inside me. There was a second of panic because he’d come inside without a condom, but that was quickly receded in my breathlessness and exhaustion.
He lay on top of me for long minutes as we both caught our breath. Finally, he rolled to the side, his now-expended shaft leaving a sticky pool of semen on my abdomen. We lay like that for a while before I rose, grabbed my bag, and made my way to the bathroom. The sight in the mirror was a shock. There was mascara smudged around my eyes and dark streaks running down my cheeks. My face was flushed, my body speckled from heat and exertion. A large gob of semen dropped onto the floor and I could feel more running down my leg.
I cleaned myself, repaired my makeup and did what I could with my hair, before moving back into the room. He was lying on the bed, still nude. I gave him a weak smile and began dressing. “I have to be getting back to my dorm.”
He gave a sort of chuckle. “Are you sure? Shame to waste the room.”
“No, I really have to go.”
I didn’t exactly flee, but almost. In the dorm lobby and the elevator, I was certain everyone knew what I’d been doing. “Look, she just got smashed by a big Black man with an enormous cock!” Of course, nobody paid the least attention. I knew our showers would be busy at this time of the night, so I elected to skip that. I was afraid the other girls might smell the sex on me, too.
I was very tired but, naturally, sleep didn’t come. I lay there thinking, “Okay, that was quite an experience! What a thot you were. Getting pounded by some middle-aged stranger.”
But I laughed in spite of myself. I had what you might call mattress burns on my butt and shoulders. My insides were sore and there was a trace of bleeding. I wasn’t hurt really, just well used! But that wasn’t a bad thing. It was new and different. When I considered it, I realized the whole experience had been exhilarating! I’d enjoyed being admired. I’d enjoyed being undressed. I liked being bounced on that bed and nailed to the mattress. Not because the sex part was so satisfying, but because of the picture it made in my mind. It was as if I was watching a movie – of a girl I knew was me – and loving what I saw!
