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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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Alice
by Pan (pan@nym.alias.net)
***
A pretty co-ed likes to show off and ends up performing
for her American History professor. (F-solo, mast,
student-exh, teacher-voy)
***
I'm a 45 year old divorced college professor. I'm
tenured, and it seems like I've been teaching forever. I
teach history. It's a subject that most of my students
take because they have to. They consider it the lesser
of many evils. We once had a history major here, but it
got cancelled when the president realized that we were
only graduating two or three people each year. That's
when they got rid of the only other full time history
professor.
I actually enjoy my job. It's boring at times, but I can
more or less do what I want. I don't have to spend a lot
of energy preparing for class. History doesn't change
very much and neither do the interpretations that we
bring to the lower level courses. I try to stay well
read and interested, but it's entirely for my own
benefit. Mostly my days are quite routine and
predictable.
My wife left me almost ten years ago. I foolishly had an
affair with a woman I met at a conference in a nearby
city. That woman and I seemed so well matched that I
deceived myself into believing we would live happily
ever after. It turned out that she was married too. I
hadn't known that, although the signs had been there for
me to see. I ended up throwing my affair in my wife's
face when she left, yet the other woman wouldn't take me
either. It was really rather pathetic.
When I'm not teaching or reading in the library, I enjoy
concerts, gardening, photography, and hiking. I try to
keep myself in good shape with regular work outs. I use
the college's gym, much to the amusement of my students.
They kid me about my gut or my legs but the truth is
that I'm in better shape than many of them.
This particular fall semester started more or less like
any other. I greeted the students in my usual, routine
way, and handed out all the usual, routine paperwork. I
always try to get to know my students so that they can
feel comfortable kidding me in the gym. Thankfully the
college where I teach has a policy of avoiding the giant
lectures that plague so many other universities. That
makes my job much nicer.
It was probably about four weeks into a very routine
semester when I got an email message from one of my
freshman American History students named Alice. "I could
use a little help with the reading assignment," she
wrote. "I have some questions about it." I often get
email from students so there was nothing particularly
odd about Alice's message. I wondered what kind of
questions she had. I replied with an invitation to stop
by my office later that afternoon.
Alice arrived right on schedule. She was dressed very
smartly, but conservatively. She had on a light blouse
with dark pants and a dark jacket. The color of her
jacket contrasted strikingly with her long, blond hair.
I indicated a chair, and as she sat down she took out
her glasses and her notes.
Alice's work was steady, but not exceptional. She wasn't
sure about some of the questions at the end of the
reading, but she seemed to understand my explanations
well enough. "I'm glad you came by," I said and she
seemed pleased. "It's good to try and get these issues
cleared up before class. It will make the discussion in
class easier to follow and you'll get more out of it."
She smiled. "I just wanted to come by and see your
office anyway. I figured you'd have a very nice office."
I laughed. "Well," I said with a wave of my arm. "What
do you think?"
"I like your pictures," she said getting up to take a
closer look at them. "Did you take them?"
"Yes, I did," I replied, feeling a bit of pride coming
into my voice. "I have my own darkroom so I printed them
as well."
We ended up spending a good fifteen minutes talking
about photography. It turned out that she had done a
little modeling and that she knew something about the
technical side of that business as well.
"You'd make a lovely model," I told her. She smiled
warmly.
The next day, I received an email message from Alice
thanking me for helping her and for spending time
showing her my pictures. I replied saying that no thanks
were necessary and that she should feel free to stop by
my office anytime.
**
A couple of days later, while I was in the gym working
out, I saw Alice running on one of the treadmills. She
waved when she saw me and I returned her gesture before
heading over to the weight machines. I was a little
surprised to see her there since I had never seen her
working out before. Yet people are always coming and
going in the gym, and there was nothing particularly
unusual about that.
As I worked out, I found myself stealing glances her
way. She was extremely sexy in her skin tight leotard.
She had a thin, lithe body with pert, teenaged breasts.
Her hair was tied back in a ponytail to expose well
toned shoulders and arms. She had the treadmill up
fairly high and was moving along at a rather good clip.
I could see the sweat glistening on her brow. I could
also see her erect nipples clearly outlined against the
fabric of her leotard. I hadn't realized what a great
body she had, and I found myself wondering what she
looked like without that leotard.
Later in class, I lectured on the evolving political
situation in the colonies and I tried to relate those
events to current events around the world. The
discussion was fairly lively and I felt pleased. I also
felt distracted by Alice in the back row. She didn't say
anything but for some reason the image of her tight
leotard stretched over her hard nipples kept coming to
my mind. That night, at home in my bed, I masturbated to
that image.
The next day I found a message from Alice waiting for me
in my electronic mailbox. "I noticed you watching me in
the gym yesterday," was all it said.
"Damn," I thought. I composed a careful reply. I didn't
want to deny what was obviously true, but I also did
want to get myself into trouble. I know of faculty
members who routinely prey on their students for sexual
favors, and that practice disgusts me. I didn't want
Alice to think I was like that. Besides, tenure or no,
sexual harassment was taken very seriously by the
college administration.
"You are a very striking woman," I wrote after much
deliberation, "and I'd be lying if I told you that I
didn't notice you. However, I don't want you to think
that I was trying to act inappropriately. I'm sorry if
you felt uncomfortable, and I hope you will not feel
uncomfortable with me in the future."
Around noon that day, I got a reply from her that said,
"I wasn't uncomfortable at all. Actually, I liked it. I
noticed you too. You're a sexy man."
Was she coming on to me there? After a minute of
reflection, I dragged her message to the trash can and
forgot about it. But that night I thought again about
her firm breasts bouncing suggestively as she jogged on
the treadmill machine.
**
The next day Alice wasn't in class. That struck me as a
bit unusual. Hadn't she always been there before? I
couldn't remember. I wondered what she might have been
doing. Late that afternoon I got an email message from
her. "I'm sorry I wasn't in class," she said. "I don't
like missing your classes, but something came up. Can I
stop by your office and find out what I missed?" I felt
my hands shaking slightly as I composed my reply. "Calm
down," I told myself.
When she came to my office I gave her the reading
assignment and a copy of my notes. I was very
professional. "Thanks," she said as she packed the
material into her notebook. Then, just as she was about
to leave she added, "I want you to know, by the way,
that I wasn't uncomfortable the other day in the gym."
"I'm glad," I muttered with a nod.
She looked at me for a long moment. "I like it when men
look at my body."
"You have a nice body," I said without thinking.
She smiled. "Maybe I'll see you in the gym again
sometime!"
"Maybe." I said.
She smiled again. "Well, thanks for the notes." She
turned toward the door. "I'll see you later, Mr.
Johnson."
**
The next day I could hardly think straight. Part of me
hoped that I would see her again that afternoon in the
gym. Part of me was just plain scared shitless by the
idea. By the time I actually headed over to the gym for
my workout, I felt as nervous as a teenager on his first
date.
When I didn't see her right away, I felt a mixture of
relief and disappointment. But then I saw her. She was
on one of the bench press machines on the other side of
the room. She was wearing a different leotard; a black
leotard that contrasted in an intensely sexy way with
her blond hair and fair skin. My palms broke into a
sweat but I tried to be casual and pretend that I didn't
really see her.
After she had done her sets on the bench press machine,
she noticed me and waved. I smiled briefly in return,
but my heart was pounding. Why was this woman having
such a strong effect on me?
As I worked out I watched Alice now and then out of the
corner of my eye. Her leotard seemed to hug her sleek
body like a second skin. I could see every contour of
her breasts, buttocks, and hips clearly outlined. Once
Alice caught me looking at her. She winked and I smiled
before I discretely turned my attention back to my work.
Then I noticed that Alice seemed to be going out of her
way to position herself in my view. Sometimes she worked
on the machine next to mine and sometimes she worked on
the machine across the room. In every case I could see
her just by looking up in a very natural and
inconspicuous way.
While I was working on the bicep machine, Alice decided
to work on the bench press machine. She laid down on the
bench and spread her legs slightly so that she could put
her feet on the floor. From my vantage point, I got a
clear view of her legs and crotch. I fancied that I
could even see the slit between her legs outlined by her
tight leotard. I decided to do an extra set on the bicep
machine and when I got up I caught another wink from
Alice.
**
The next morning I found an email message in my mailbox
from her.
"Did you like looking at me?" she asked. "Are you going
to come and look at me again?"
"You were teasing me," I typed my reply. "And you are an
exhibitionist! But yes, I will probably come by and look
at you again. Especially since you seem to enjoy it so
much. I just need to be discrete."
A couple of hours later, I got a reply.
"I am an exhibitionist. Being looked at gets me hot.
Don't worry, it will just be our little game. I don't
want to ruin it by getting you in trouble."
Shit. I wasn't sure where this was heading, but I was
very sure that I shouldn't be playing this game with one
of my students. Yet it was intensely exciting to think
about Alice getting hot.
Later in the afternoon I got another message from her.
"Did you like my black leotard?" she said. "I picked it
out hoping that you were going to be there. I have a
couple of other ones that I can wear. You'll have to
tell me which is your favorite."
The next time I went to the gym, Alice was already there
and seemed very much engrossed in her workout. I began
my workout in the usual, routine way and didn't pay too
much attention to her at first. She didn't bother to
greet me, which felt appropriate and comfortable. Yet as
before she seemed to position herself to make it easier
for me to watch her without it being obvious that I was
doing so.
She was wearing a light blue leotard that seemed to be
much higher on her hips than the black one. The fabric
was slightly sparkly and that made her body seem to
shimmer as she moved. I loved watching her breasts
jostle beneath the fabric.
"So what did you think?" she asked in email the next
day.
"Nice," I replied, "but then I think you would look nice
in almost anything. You are very attractive. I admit
that I still like the black one better. Did it get you
hot knowing that I was watching you?" I asked.
She replied in only about thirty minutes. "Yes I did get
hot. Just knowing that you were there looking at me made
me wet. I'm glad you think I'm attractive. I think you
are attractive too."
Class that day was uneventful. Alice was there, as
usual, in the back. She was dressed in her usual,
routine way. The discussion was lively and I managed to
stay focused on my teaching very well. But that night I
masturbated while thinking about Alice getting wet.
The next time at the gym she had on a green leotard that
seemed to be in the same style as the black one. It was
a dark, forest green and it looked very nice. I could
easily see her erect nipples through the fabric. The
thought that I was arousing her by looking at her turned
me on as well. I had trouble focusing on my workout.
"I liked the green leotard better than the blue one I
think," I wrote to her, "but I still like the black one
the best."
I paused and then typed, "I liked the green leotard
because I could see your nipples through it."
I didn't get a reply from her for quite some time. I
started to worry. I didn't want to ruin our game by
making her feel like so much meat in a meat market. Yet
she had said she was an exhibitionist. After a few hours
I started to worry that she was in the dean's office
lodging a complaint about me. Finally, at the very end
of the day I got a message from her. I anxiously opened
it.
"I have something special planned for tomorrow," was all
she said.
**
The next day I had trouble focusing on my classes. I
kept thinking about Alice and about what she was going
to do. It seemed to me that the time for my workout
would never come.
Finally, I headed over to the gym at my usual time. I
got changed and almost rushed up to the room with the
machines. With luck hardly anyone was there. But Alice
was there. She saw me and we made brief eye contact, but
she didn't seem to acknowledge me. S
he was wearing dark blue riding shorts and a cut-off
tank top that exposed her muscular midriff from her
navel up to the bottom part of her rib cage. Her top was
really just a cloth draped over her breasts; it was
completely open from below.
When she moved toward one of the machines, her breasts
jostled making it clear that she wasn't wearing a bra.
When she got onto the pec machine, her top stretched
back over her breasts and her very erect nipples poked
through the thin fabric with astonishing clarity. They
must have been a half inch long; a remarkable size
considering that her breasts were not particularly
large. In addition I could see her areolas outlined
against her top and I could follow every contour of her
upturned, slightly pointed tits.
I could hardly keep my eyes off of her, and I wasn't
alone. I think every man in the room followed Alice as
she moved from machine to machine. When she raised her
arms to work the overhead bar, we all wondered if her
top would ride up to expose her breasts entirely.
When she laid down on the bench press we all wondered if
we could catch the curve of her breasts peeking out from
under the bottom of her top. When she jogged on the
treadmill, we all watched her breasts shake and sway
freely. She often closed her eyes for extended periods
of time, and I knew she was doing that just to make it
easier for the rest of us to stare.
"You were very sexy today," I wrote to her before
leaving that afternoon. "You have beautiful breasts and
I loved watching them move under your clothes."
**
That night I masturbated to those breasts.
In the morning when I arrived at work, there was a
message from her. "I'm glad you liked my show," she
replied. "I wanted to display myself to you, Mr.
Johnson, but all those other people were there so I
couldn't. I still want to show myself to you. How can I
do that?"
I gulped. This game was starting to get intense and I
wasn't sure how to handle it. I took a deep breath and
wrote a simple, one line response. "Come to my office
this afternoon at 5:00pm and we'll discuss it."
It was difficult to concentrate on history. Then, when
she didn't reply, I worried again that I had overstepped
my bounds. Alice was in class in her usual, routine way,
and I managed to get through class without embarrassing
myself. I looked at her a few times as I lectured, but I
couldn't read her expression.
Finally the appointed time arrived. I seriously
considered leaving at 5:00 like I usually do, but I
waited. One minute, two minutes, three minutes passed
and nobody came to my office door. The hallway was quiet
and deserted.
Then suddenly I heard a soft knock at the door, but the
pounding of my heart seemed to almost drown it out.
"Come in." I said. It was, of course, Alice. "Hello!" I
said trying to muster as casual a tone as I could. I had
no idea what to expect, but I knew that I had to treat
this meeting as normally as I could in case she was
about to complain to the administration.
Alice did not reply. She quickly sat down on the chair
opposite my desk. She looked at me. I looked at her. Our
eyes meet and there was a tense silence. Then, she
swiftly began unbuttoning her blouse. I swallowed and
watched, hardly daring to move a muscle and not daring
to speak.
First one button, then another, then a third. With each
button her blouse hung progressively more and more
loosely on her shoulders. She closed her eyes, and then
with a sudden, forceful gesture, she tore open her
blouse exposing her delightful breasts to my eyes. There
was nearly absolute silence in the room. Only the sound
of her ragged breathing distracted me from the view.
Her young breasts were firm cones with just a hint of a
more mature droop along their undersides. At the tip of
each cone was a bright pink nipple that was standing out
fully erect. I was amazed at the size of her nipples;
they were as large as pencil erasers and seemed a bit
out of proportion with the daintiness of her breasts.
She arched her back to thrust her breasts toward me, but
she kept her eyes closed. I wanted so much to reach out
and touch her or lick her, but I didn't move. How much
time passed like that I couldn't tell. It seemed
timeless. Finally -- it might have been only a few
seconds or maybe a few minutes -- she closed her shirt
and started buttoning it up again. She looked at me,
holding my gaze, and making deep eye contact.
"Thank you," she said softly.
I nodded. And with that she left as suddenly as she had
come. The stillness of the late afternoon enfolded me.
The next day I had a message from Alice waiting for me
in my mailbox.
"Did you like that as much as I did?" she asked.
I considered my response carefully. "You have an
exquisite body, Alice, and I love looking at it as much
as you seem to love showing it off. I'm glad you want to
show me your body. Will you show me more?"
I didn't get any more messages from her that day.
Instead I had to attend several faculty committee
meetings of one sort of another. They were boring, of
course. By the time I packed up my things to go home, I
had almost forgotten about my dialog with Alice.
However, the next day, I had a message waiting from her
that got my attention. "What part would you like to see
next?" she asked. It was a challenge, and I didn't want
to let her down. Yet I was still worried about going too
far. This game was getting very intense and I didn't
want to blow it now. I paced around in my office for a
few minutes before composing my reply. Then finally I
sat down at my computer. "Show me your pussy," I wrote
back.
I started work grading the last quiz but my hands were
shaking. Finally, I took a brisk walk around campus to
help me relax.
I got my reply by noon. "You want to see my pussy, Mr.
Johnson? Is that because you want to see how wet I get
when you look at me and how hard my clit becomes?"
This was getting good. "You know I would," I wrote back.
"Show me your wet pussy, Alice, and your hard clit. I
want to see. Come to my office this afternoon at 5:00
again and show me."
It was a challenge to teach that afternoon with Alice in
the back of the room. Her expression was bland, but
whenever I looked at her, I found myself thinking --
even if for just a fleeting instant -- of her wet pussy.
It was too much.
Shortly after class, I got a message from Alice. I
opened it with trembling hands.
"I'll be there." was all it said.
I worked out that afternoon to distract me and to pass
the time. I knew that I really needed to be working on
grading some papers, but that wasn't going to be
possible. I could hardly wait for the end of the day to
come.
As before, Alice was a bit late. But this time I knew
she would come. "Yes?" I called out innocently when I
heard her knock at my door. She came in wearing a nice
blouse and a short skirt.
"Hello." I said. But as before she was silent.
Immediately she sat down in the other chair. She looked
at me, making eye contact. I looked at her. There was no
sound except our breathing.
"Show me." I said softly.
Suddenly she lifted up her legs slightly and spread open
her knees. Then she pulled up her skirt to display
herself to me. She wasn't wearing any underwear, and my
eyes were greeted with a beautiful view of her exposed
genitals. As I looked, she spread her knees even higher
and wider to open herself even more to my gaze.
A forest of light, blond hair sprouted in a thick
triangle on her mound and spread down over her labia in
a generous tangle. Her inner lips were unusually large
and looked like the wild petals of a rare flower in full
bloom -- complete with an inviting fragrance. They
glistened with her excitement, and it was obvious she
was aroused.
At the top of her pussy, where the petals of her flower
touched, I could plainly see her clitoris protruding
anxiously from under its protective hood. It was a big,
beautiful clitoris: hard, erect, and full of the promise
of wild pleasure. I wanted to kiss it and lick it, but
as before I didn't dare to move.
Instead my eyes were drawn to her opening. I looked
deeply inside of her, penetrating her with my gaze,
until my sight got lost in the mysterious blackness
within her. And out of that blackness poured an intense
sexual heat; an animal energy that seemed to flow out of
her pussy and fill the room.
Again the moment was timeless. I watched her. She
watched me watching her. Her face was flushed and her
breathing was heavy. Her pupils were widely dilated. Her
cunt glistened.
"Very nice," I said with a hoarse whisper.
She swallowed hard. I thought she was going to get up,
but she made no move. For God only knows how long, I
simply stared at her; stared at her wet, open cunt, her
engorged pussy lips, and her big clit. She had one of
the most beautiful pussies I had ever seen.
Then, suddenly, she straightened up and pushed her skirt
back down. I sat back a bit -- I hadn't even realized
that I had been leaning forward. We made eye contact,
but we didn't say a word. She stood up and quickly left.
For a moment, I simply sat. Then I kneeled down on the
floor with my face near where her beautiful pussy had
been. I inhaled deeply, smelling her, savoring her, and
wishing that she was still there so that I could lick
her. My cock was rock hard in my pants.
I hurried home to jerk off.
**
The next morning I had a series of faculty committee
meetings to attend. The whole time I wondered if Alice
had written to me and, if so, what she had said. When my
meetings were finally over, I hurried to my office. I
smiled when I saw a message from Alice in my mailbox. My
cock started to harden even as I opened it. "Did you
like what you saw?" she began. "I liked showing myself
to you. My pussy was so hot afterwards that I had to go
back to my room and get myself off. Do you see what you
do to me?!"
I wrote my reply right away. "I loved the way you showed
yourself to me," I said. "You have a wonderful pussy and
a lovely clit. I'm glad you were excited by my watching
you. Did you have a good orgasm in your room afterwards?
Tell me all about that."
It excited me to hear her talk dirty in email. I could
hardly believe that this was the same woman who sat so
quietly in the back of my history class every other day.
It wasn't until after lunch that I heard from her again.
I closed my office door to read her letter. I didn't
want anyone coming in while there were certain words on
my computer's screen!
"I had an excellent orgasm in my room last night, Mr.
Johnson," she began. I was so glad my roommate wasn't
there when I arrived. I think she must have gone to
dinner. I was so excited, that I didn't even bother to
take my clothes off. I just sat on the edge of my bed,
hiked up my skirt the way I had for you, and did myself
right then and there. I thought about you watching me. I
wanted your eyes on me, staring, like you were before.
As I stroked my clit, I imagined that you were there,
right between my thighs, looking closely at my cunt."
"I came in a rush. I was so excited that it only took me
a minute or two to climax. It was a wonderful orgasm and
it made me howl. I wish you could have seen it. Would
you have liked that? Would you like to watch me make
myself cum?"
I was totally excited. My cock was straining in my pants
and I knew I had to reply right away. I wondered again
if she had done this before, but I didn't care. She had
me in her spell.
"Yes," I wrote back. "I would love to see you make
yourself cum. There is nothing more beautiful, or sexy,
than a woman having an orgasm. I would love to watch you
experiencing that pleasure. I would kneel down on the
floor between your legs, just like you want, and watch
you stroke your lovely clit and pussy. Spread your legs
wide for me, Alice. I want to see. I want to see every
twitch and shudder that your cunt makes when you cum!"
I hesitated for a moment before pressing "Send." I
wasn't worried anymore about her reacting badly to my
message, but I was amazed that it had come to this. I
hoped she found my words even half as arousing as I had
found hers.
Much to my surprise, my lecture went fine. I was worried
that I wouldn't be able to talk straight much less think
straight, but it wasn't so. Alice was there, dressed in
her routine, conservative clothes looking like her usual
self. We made eye contact briefly at one point and I
fancied that she winked a little, but perhaps I was
imagining that.
After my class with Alice, I had another one to teach.
When I got back from that, there was a message waiting
for me.
"5:00pm again. Your office. Tomorrow."
The next day seemed to go quickly. I tried not to think
about Alice; each time I did, my cock started to get
hard in my pants. Would she really go through with it? I
knew that she would. She was enjoying this as much as I
was. Yet I wondered where it would all lead.
The appointed time came. Alice was late -- later than
usual. I almost thought she wasn't going to come at all.
Yet at 5:13 I heard a soft knock on my office door.
"Come in," I said.
Alice opened the door. She was wearing a turtle neck
sweater and jeans. I felt disappointed. She wasn't
going to do it. She had come to tell me that we had gone
far enough.
As soon as the door closed, she turned toward me and
smiled. "Watch me," she said softly. A silence filled
the room as she moved her fingers down to her belt and
began to unbuckle it. "Watch me touch myself." I
swallowed hard and sat down in my chair. She stood
before me, unzipping her pants. In moments she was
pulling them down her legs and kicking them off her
feet. She was not wearing any underwear and her blond
curls formed a delightful tangle between her legs.
"Watch me touch myself until I cum," she whispered.
She sat down on the chair by my desk and spread her legs
widely, opening herself up to me the way she had the
other day. Then she lifted up her feet and put them on
the seat of the chair, spreading herself open even more.
I stared at her totally exposed pussy, already moist
with her excitement. She thrust her hips forward at me,
rocking them, inviting me to look at her completely.
I could hardly believe how lewd she looked! I could see
her labia spread open like a wildflower in bloom. I
could see her clit protruding clearly out from under its
hood, firm and proud. I wondered briefly if her genitals
always looked like that. Was this woman horny all the
time?
"Watch me," she said in a soft but commanding voice.
"Watch me touch myself until I cum."
She started to run her fingers over her labia, massaging
them. Then with one finger she started to rub her clit
from side to side. She used a slow, slightly jerky
motion. I watched with fascination as her little
erection flicked from one side of her finger to the
other. She closed her eyes for a moment to savor the
sensations. She seemed so wanton -- not bashful or timid
at all. She stroked herself steadily. Her breathing was
ragged and her pussy was wet.
"Penetrate yourself with your finger," I said. "I want
to see."
She did as I asked, dipping a slender finger into her
warm depths. I could see her pressing against her G-spot
and she gasped softly as she did. When it came out, her
finger was covered with her lubrication. Immediately
she back to rub her clit with quick, steady strokes.
"Yes, that's it," I said softly. "Play with that pussy!
Make it cum!"
"Come down between my legs," she replied breathlessly.
"Like you said you would. I want you to be able to
really see me."
Almost as if in a dream, I got out of my chair and moved
down to a kneeling position right in front of her. I
moved toward her slowly, but steadily until my face was
only about a foot from her crotch. The sight of her
open, excited pussy filled my view and the smell of her
filled my nostrils.
"Oh yeah!" she gasped as she plunged a finger back
inside of her body. "That's it! Watch me finger fuck
myself. Oh God, yeah!" At first she used only one
finger, but soon she joined it with another. In and out
she moved them, her entire hand and lower arm joining in
the motion. I glanced up to see her, wide-eyed, watching
me between her legs.
"I'm finger fucking myself," she panted. "Do you see? Do
you see how I do that?"
"Yes," I said as I turned my attention back to the
pornographic spectacle before me. "I see. I see you
fucking your hot, soaking pussy with your fingers." Her
cunt was wide open. It was a dark red color, and
dripping with wetness. It was a gaping mouth trying to
swallow her hand.
She fucked herself vigorously, her hand moved back and
forth rapidly as liquid sounds started coming from her
excited pussy. Her clit had, if anything become larger
and more pronounced than ever. It looked like a bead,
almost, nestled in the folds of her skin.
Suddenly, she stopped finger fucking herself, and
started stroking that big clit with rapid movements.
"Watch me!" she moaned. "Ohhh, please watch me!" She
spread her legs even more and her pussy started to
dribble wetness as she stroked herself. The scent of her
was strong.
"I'll watch you, Alice," I said. "I'll watch you play
with that clit of yours until your pussy cums so hard
you scream. Would you like that, Alice? You do want me
to see what your pussy looks like when it cums, don't
you?"
"Oh yes!" she gasped. Her finger was just a blur and her
inner lips where totally spread and open. Her genitals
looked like an exotic flower in bloom, dripping with
fresh rain.
"Then show me!" I said. "Make your pussy cum and show
me!"
"Do you want to see!" she hissed as her finger continued
working her clit steadily.
"Yes!" I replied.
"Do you want to see my pussy cum!!" she cried out rather
loudly in her excitement.
"Yes!!" I commanded.
"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!!" she panted.
Then, suddenly, my beautiful American History student
threw back her head and orgasmed right in front of my
eyes. It was lovely to behold. She pressed her hips
upwards in a strong contraction, and a long, groaning
howl of raw animal pleasure poured out of her.
"I'm watching you," I said intently. "I'm watching you
cum."
She began to grunt and her pussy started twitching in
ecstasy. I could actually see her ogasmic contractions
easily! She rolled her head from side to side, as if she
was drowning in pleasure while liquid flowed steadily
from her quivering cunt and onto the chair.
"Excellent!" I said enthusiastically. "Cum long and hard
for me! I want to see. I want to see you cumming hard!"
"Oh god, YES!" she groand loudly, still cumming. "Watch
meeee CUM! Ohhhh god, it feels sooooo good!!"
Finally her orgasm started to settle down and she slowed
her stroking. I watched her cunt the entire time
marveling in the power and beauty of her climax and in
what it did to her pussy.
"That was very beautiful," I said when she had finished.
I sat back onto the floor while she idly stroked her
pubic hair.
"I liked it too," she said with a smile. "But now I've
got to go." She stood up suddenly and quickly pulled her
pants back on.
"Are... are you okay?" I asked.
She smiled. "Don't forget to check your mail later
tonight!" she said. And then she was gone.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 68