It’s Thanksgiving break. I just finished my first semester at Amherst College in Massachusetts, somehow managing to balance school with being on the swim team. Flew home Tuesday night. Riley’s back from Alabama, we’ve kept texts short, mostly “how’s break” and small talk. Thursday is the huge family dinner at my house. Everyone crashes by 10. I’m in bed scrolling TikTok for an hour when my phone buzzes.
Riley: “Everyone’s knocked out. back door open. Come over.”
I wait ten minutes, heart thumping out of my chest. Slip out the front door in sweats and a hoodie. Walk the six blocks straight down the sidewalk. Her house looks dark except for the kitchen glow. The door’s cracked just like she said. I push in slowly, the hinge creaking a tiny bit, and lock it softly behind me.
She’s perched on a stool at the island, barefoot, in a matching pink lace bra top and PJ bottoms. The top clings to her boobs, lace edging the cups, straps thin over her shoulders. Dark blonde ponytail sways as she turns. She sees me, smiles sweetly, green eyes crinkling at the corners. She hops off, pads over, and hugs me tight. Her body presses against mine, soft and warm. “Missed you so damn much,” she whispers, then kisses me quickly but lingeringly, tongue brushing my lips.
We break apart and sit on adjacent stools. Voices stay low, barely above whispers. She slides the pie tin over, hands me a fork. We dig in, flaky crust and sweet filling. She starts with her time at Alabama this year so far: cheer practice running her ragged, six days a week with flips and pyramids that leave her bruised. Classes are manageable, but the sorority house is chaos: girls blasting music at 2 a.m., fights over who left dishes in the sink, pranks like hiding someone’s phone in the freezer. “It’s fun, though,” she says, laughing softly. “Beats living in a dorm.”
I nod, tell her about Amherst. Swim team drills at 5 AM, water so cold it shocks the sleep out of you. Business classes piling on group projects and case studies, professors grilling you like you’re already in a boardroom. That startup idea, nothing solid, just notes on my phone about an app or something, but it keeps me up thinking. “Sounds ambitious,” she says, forking a big bite.
Conversation flows easily, like summer never ended. In between a bite, she offhandedly mentions, “You know, the freedom down there… It’s different. No parents watching. I’ve been… trying things. Hooked up with a few guys. Casual, no big deal.”
My fork stops midway. Face heats up. She notices, eyes flicking up to mine, but keeps going, voice casual.
“One was a guy from my lab. Tall, played lacrosse, all brag. Dorm after a kegger—clumsy oral, gagged me accidentally, doggy but slipped a lot. Four minutes, came on my ass. Ghosted after.”
I shift on the stool, trying not to show how it hits me. She smirks a little. “Another frat type, average build. Tailgate, truck bed under a blanket. Quick lick on me, barely there, missionary thrusts shallow and hard. Came in a condom without checking me. Snuck out early.”
I stare at the tin now, cheeks burning. She tilts her head. “You alright over there?”
“Yeah, just… vivid,” I mutter.
She laughs. “We’re adults now, remember?”
“Last was a senior, massive dick. Apartment, bent over couch—slow entry, tight stretch. Good start, but quick finish, three minutes, came on back and hair. No payoff for me,” she continued.
Flustered, I poke the pie. She leans closer, knee bumping mine. “Okay, your turn. Luck with girls at Amherst? Swimmers get attention, right?”
I deflect shyly, heart racing. “Nah, too slammed with practice and homework.”
She presses, eyes sparkling. “Come on, no drunk makeouts at parties? Dorm hookups?”
I change the subject quickly. “How’s the football scene? Games as hyped as they say?”
She rolls her eyes but smiles. “Nice try. Seriously, tell me. Any girls catch your eye?”
I try to clumsily deflect again. “Business profs are killers. Group projects are nonstop. What about sorority events—any wild ones?”
She leans back, arms crossed under her boobs. “You’re dodging like a pro. Why? Spill the tea on your luck.”
More deflection. “Swim team diet’s strict. No energy for that. Cheer uniforms—still crimson?”
She laughs harder, but won’t let up. “You suck at this, man. Come on, any close calls?”
I hesitate, look at my hands. She waits, patient but insistent. Finally, reluctantly: “E-every time I almost g-got there with someone, I couldn’t go through. K-kept thinking of you, how hot you looked in July. C-couldn’t do it.” Stutter spills out, afraid she’ll mock me.
She stares incredulously, mouth slightly open. Hand moves self-consciously to her side, fingers grazing her PJ bottoms’ waistband, then up to tug at the bra top’s lace, adjusting over her curves. “Wait, you seriously backed out… because of me? Like, multiple times?”
I nod, bracing. She blinks, processes, then her expression shifts—eyes soften, lips curve. “That’s… hot. Kinda flattering, actually. Makes me feel kinda horny.”
Relief floods me. We sit there a moment, tension thick. She breaks it with a small laugh. “Didn’t expect that. Thought you’d be racking up stories like me.”
I shrug, still flushed. “Guess not.”
She nods, thoughtful. “Fair. College is weird like that—everyone figuring shit out. It’s hard.”
Talk eases, but the air’s charged now. She stands eventually, says she needs water. But first, her hand drifts to my lap, brushes seductively over the bulge in my sweats, fingers tracing the length slowly. “Hmm, feels like college isn’t the only thing that’s hard,” she says, voice low and teasing, green eyes locked on mine.
She turns to the fridge and opens it, bending slightly to grab something, her small perky ass outlined in the soft PJ fabric. I can’t take it anymore; all that talk about sex and her teasing has me riled up. I move quickly, silently getting behind her. Hands on her hips, bend her forward over the counter. Her gasp is sharp. “What are you—” Trails off as I hook fingers in her PJ bottoms, yank them down to her knees. No panties underneath. Pussy exposed, pink and already glistening.
She freezes, shocked. I drop to my knees, hands spreading her cheeks wide. Bury my face in, tongue flat on her slit, licking slowly from clit to entrance. Taste her, musky and sweet. She’s wet, her arousal coating my tongue. I slide it inside, probing deep. Circle her clit with the tip, then suck.
“You’re so dirty,” she mutters, half-laugh, half-moan, voice breathy.
Long, deliberate licks up her folds, savoring every inch. She grips the counter edge, pushes back against my face. Then she reaches back with both hands, grabs her own cheeks, and spreads them even wider. “Deeper,” she whispers.
I oblige, tongue thrusting in as far as it goes, fucking her with it, in and out. Walls clench around it. Spot the whipped cream can on the fridge shelf, grab it quick, shake, and spray a thick line along her slit and up to her asshole. The cold foam makes her shiver. I start to lick it off slowly, tongue pressing through the cream into her pussy, lapping the mix of sweet and her juices. Flick her clit rapidly through the foam, then suck it clean.
Fingers join, two sliding inside, curling to hit that spot. Tongue nonstop on her clit, circling, flicking, sucking. She’s breathing ragged, hips bucking slightly. One hand clamps over her mouth as she builds.
She cums hard, body tenses, thighs quake. Tries to scream into her hand but fails. It’s not muffled at all, a raw, sharp cry bouncing off the kitchen walls. She goes still after, nervously listening, ears straining for footsteps upstairs, doors opening, anything. Heart pounds in the silence. Nothing stirs. Relief hits, and she slumps a bit.
I lick through the aftershocks, gentle now until she twitches oversensitive. Pull back, chin wet. She straightens slowly, turns, and stares at me in wide-eyed disbelief. “Holy fuck, what just happened? You’re… different.”
Breathing heavily, she pulls up her bottoms. Grabs my hand, leads me out of the kitchen quietly. Hallway dark, we pause halfway to her room, unable to resist each other. She pushes me against the wall, kisses me hard. Tongue in my mouth, hands roaming my chest under the hoodie. I grab her ass, squeeze the perky cheeks. She grinds against me, feeling my hardness. “Room, now,” she whispers urgently.
Her door shuts softly, clicks locked. Clothes fly off, hoodie, sweats, her top and bottoms. Our naked bodies press together. I’m on my back, breathing hard, wallet open on the nightstand. I fish out the condom by habit and start tearing the foil.
She crawls over slowly, knees on either side of my thighs, and gently takes the packet from my fingers.
“Hey… no,” she whispers, voice low and sweet. She leans down, lips brushing my ear. “This pussy’s always been yours, daddy. We don’t need that tonight.”
I freeze at the word, dick throbbing against her thigh. She smiles, flicks the unopened condom off the bed like it’s nothing, then kisses me deep as she sits back up.
She then pushes me back onto her bed, mattress dipping. Climbs up, turns around swiftly, her pussy hovering inches from my face, ass cheeks spreading naturally. I grab her hips, pull her down firmly. Tongue dives right back in, lapping her folds. She moans low, takes my dick in her hand and strokes slowly from base to tip, thumb circling the head, smearing precum.
Her lips then wrap the tip, suck gently, tongue swirling around my head. I moan as I lick her entrance, probing deep, tasting her cunt. She bobs deeper, taking half my length, hand twisting the base. Gags slightly as she pushes further, her throat tight and warm around my shaft. I slide a finger in her pussy and curl it, tongue flicking her clit over and over again. She grinds down on my face, smothering me in her wetness as moans vibrate around my cock.
I keep at it, tongue fucking her pussy, then flat licks up her slit. Suck hard, two fingers now pumping steadily. I feel her build again as her walls flutter on my fingers. Thrust tongue deep as she cums, juices gushing, thighs clamping my head like a vice. She pulls off my dick with a pop, gasping, body shuddering.
She flips off of me, still trembling. “Need you inside, daddy. Now.”
She then straddles me, hand guiding my dick to her entrance. Sinks slowly, inch by inch, gasping as her tight heat envelops me. She eventually bottoms out, eyes shut, adjusts to the fullness. Then she starts riding me, hands braced on my chest, nails digging into my skin. Her hips roll in slow circles first, grinding her clit against my pubic bone. I can feel every inch of her walls, clenching rhythmically over and over again.
She picks up pace, bouncing now, tits jiggling with each drop. I reach up, squeeze one, pinch the nipple, she moans as I do so, leaning forward so they’re right in my face. I pull her down harder on each bounce, thrusting up to meet.
She rubs her own clit, fingers circling fast and cums again. walls pulsing strong, milking me, back arching sharp. “Yes, yes,” she whimpers. I thrust through her orgasm with steady, deep strokes.
As she slowly recovers, I flip her onto her back. I hook her legs over my shoulders, folding her. Thrusting deep immediately, balls against her ass. Slow at first, almost out, then slam in, feeling her stretch. She gasps each time, hands clutching sheets frantically. I go faster now, pounding relentlessly, skin slapping loudly. Sweat slicks us both. Her pussy grips like velvet, wet sounds filling the room. We don’t care anymore about waking up her parents or her brother; we’re lost in our own world of orgasms and exhilaration now.
“Harder, daddy,” she begs, eyes locked.
I grant her request, angling to hit her g-spot. She meets each thrust, hips bucking up repeatedly. Her nails rake my back, leaving angry red marks. As I keep pounding away, her body convulses, pussy spasms, her juices soaking the sheets.
I pull out suddenly and stand up. She knows what that means as she kneels on the bed. She looks up, face flushed, green eyes hungry. “Paint my face, daddy. Give it all.”
She takes me in hand, grip firm, strokes slow and twisting, from root to head. Thumb rubs the sensitive underside, circles the tip. Leans in, licks the vein slowly, tongue flat and hot. Then, without warning, she takes me to the hilt, throat constricting, gagging as she tries to take all of me. Her nose is pressed to my groin as she continues to gag around the length. Finally, she pulls back, strings of spit dangling, eyes watering slightly but smirking as she slowly continues to pump her hand on my cock.
Her strokes continue to get faster, her other hand cups my balls, massaging them with light pressure. She takes me in her mouth again, tongue swirling nonstop. Her hand twists on each upstroke, demanding her hard-earned reward.
I groan, as my hips buck involuntarily. She senses the end coming and pulls her mouth off. Her strokes are furious now, hand flying slick and tight, spit lubricating every inch. “Cum for me, daddy. Cover me,” she begs.
I finally erupt, the first thick rope shoots across her cheek, white and hot. Second hits her parted lips, dripping down her chin. The third splatters her forehead, running into her hairline. She opens wide, tongue out, as cum collects there, pooling. She keeps stroking, milking pulse after pulse, as more streaks glaze her entire face.
I finally stop cumming and exhale, thinking it’s all over. She has other plans, though, as she dives down, takes my still hard dick deep, throat swallowing the remnants, cum and spit blending as she buries me into her mouth one more time. She pulls off gradually, licking her lips as she spoons cum from her face into her mouth. She grabs her shirt from the floor to wipe off as we both come down from our lustful highs.
We collapse on the bed side by side, breaths ragged. No words needed, we’re quietly listening for anyone stirring after our debauchery.
We lie there, sleeping, tangled until gray light creeps in between the blinds. I dress quietly, kissing her on her forehead and then sneak out around 5 AM.
Texting her from home, I say, “Encore tomorrow?”
She replies instantly: “Fuck, yes.”