From no@email Sat Mar 08 14:19:27 1997
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From: "<anonymus>" <no@email>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Tall & Small
Date: 8 Mar 1997 19:19:27 GMT
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                             Tall & Small

      Heels dug in, muscles taut, I arched my six foot body up from 
the bed, whimpering with pleasure. Hot waves of ecstasy washed 
through me as I panted and moaned, sweat dripping from my 
tense flesh, puddling on the sheet. The musty odor of sex juice 
mingled with sweat penetrated my nostrils, adding to the passion 
roaring through my veins. My nipples were hard and aching, my 
face twisted as though in pain, my toes curled. Convulsions spread 
from my throbbing clit to my cunt, and I screamed as my orgasm 
took hold. I let the vibrator fall between my taut thighs and 
plunged my thumb into my spasming pussy, eager to feel the 
contractions as my climax leveled out and then tapered off. 
Moaning softly, I settled gently on the bed, hips jerking as 
aftershocks smashed through my loins.
      When my pleasure subsided, I switched off the still-humming 
vibrator, wiped clit-cream from the knob, jerked the plug from the 
wall, and slid it into the night table drawer. Then I fell back on 
the bed pulling gasps of air into my stressed lungs. Tingles ran 
through me from the powerful orgasm, but something was 
missing. I knew what it was - a man. I wanted a guy's arms 
around me, a guy's lips on my ear lobes and neck, a guy's cock 
exploding in my cunt or mouth.
      Sighing, I rose and stretched, checking myself out in the 
mirror. I saw green eyes set in a pretty face, framed by soft, sandy 
hair. Generous mouth with full, sensuous lips. Well proportioned 
limbs, supple and curved. Full ass. Firm, tanned thighs. Flat, 
smooth belly. I had to admit that I was attractive - some would say 
beautiful.
      There were problems though. I was taller than most men, and 
a lot of guys hate to date tall women. I had a Ph.D. in history, and 
a lot of guys hate to date smart women. And I had tiny titties. 
Thanks to movies, magazines and TV, a lot of guys thought that a 
real woman had to have gigantic boobs. Boobs for boobs, I 
thought, examining my cupcakes in the mirror. A slight dusting of 
freckles made them cute, if not sexy. Swollen, coral-colored 
areolas set off long pink buds. Cute, I thought, cute and little.
      I gave up my self examination, showered and pulled on a 
simple shift and sandals. The night was warm as I headed across 
campus to the class in European history I taught on Tuesday 
evenings. My mind shifted to the class and the Period of Colonial 
Expansion. My unexpanded tits were temporarily forgotten.
      After my lecture, several students gathered around, eager to 
continue the discussion. It was only eight, so I suggested we retire 
to the campus pub for a cold beer. Three students joined me, a 
bright but plain coed named Jane, her boyfriend Buddy, and Jim 
McDonald, known to one and all as “Mac.”
      Mac was considerably older than the other students, in his 
early thirties, and probably had a couple of years on me. He was 
the local Marine Corps recruiter, working on his degree at night. 
Though he was about four inches shorter man me, he walked with 
that cocky strut I've noticed in Marines. His body was hard and 
wiry, face weather beaten and lined, with a small, white scar on 
his left cheek. Mac was a staff sergeant, a veteran of the Gulf 
War, and had the self-confident poise that comes from having led 
men in combat. I liked him and wondered if he minded that my 
body was tall and my tits small. Maybe a Marine's ego would be 
large enough that he wouldn't be intimidated by my size, my 
education, or my flat chest. Maybe.
      We shared a pitcher of light beer while Mac and I argued over 
the results of France losing her North American colonies. Jane 
chimed in on my side, arousing Mac's competitive nature. Buddy 
kept quiet, sipping beer and holding Jane's hand. We ordered a 
second pitcher, but after the first glass, Buddy tugged Jane away, 
concerned about his eight a.m. physics class.
      Mac and I went on talking. Gradually, the conversation turned 
personal - probably not wise with a student, but I was lonely and 
he wasn't some kid. He told me about his divorce from a too-
young wife who cheated while he was overseas, and his seven year      
old son who lived with her in California. My  heart went out to 
him, and I covered his hand  with mine.
      I found myself telling him about my dating problems. Mac 
made sympathetic noises and I realized that our knees had drifted 
together under the table. I could feel the fabric of his dress-blue 
trousers against my bare knee - he'd come to class directly from 
the recruiting office - and a tingle of desire ran up my leg to my 
crotch. I increased the pressure, and kept talking, feeling my 
pubic delta grow damp
      We finished the beer. Taking a deep breath, I asked, “How 
about something stronger, sergeant?” Mac glanced at the bar.
      “I could use a bourbon” he shrugged, “but this is strictly a 
beer joint.” “I think I've a bottle of Old Granddad at my place.” I 
held my breath.
      Mac smiled that cocky grin. “Lead on Ma'am.!” We rose and I 
noticed that he had to adjust the front of his blue trousers. We 
walked through the quiet night, Mac's white hat and khaki shirt 
standing out in the moonlight. Passion was boiling in me, and my 
panties were soaked. I needed a man, and this was a real man. His 
short height didn't count any more than my small breasts.
      Mac browsed in my bookcase, while I poured two stiff 
bourbons - with just a splash of water. He raised his glass in a 
toast. “Here's to getting what you want, professor!” “You can 
help” I murmured, trembling. I gulped a swallow of bourbon 
while he held my eyes. “I'd love to help, Linda” he said, taking 
my glass and setting it down. His callused hand reached up and 
pulled my head down for a kiss.
      Mac's mouth burned my moist lips. His tongue wormed its 
way into my mouth, wrestling with mine. Delight coursed through 
my body. I broke the kiss and took his hand, leading him into my 
bedroom.
      Snapping on the soft night light, I turned to face him, 
breathing hard. “Here's what you get, Marine!” I said. Kicking off 
my sandals, I pulled the shift over my head. Mac's eyes drank in 
my body, naked except for my briefs. I wished I had worn sexy 
panties instead of me plain white ones, but he didn't seem to 
mind. I could smell the aroma of my aroused cunt and I was 
trembling.
      “You are truly lovely, Linda,” he said. “Your body is 
magnificent. I Iove your long legs and those delicate, sexy 
breasts.” He wet one finger in his mouth and reached out to trace 
it around a nipple. I shuddered with longing at his touch.
      “Hurry,” I begged. Mac stepped forward and knelt in front of 
me. Gently, slowly, he pulled my panties down. I stepped free, and 
he brought them to his face, inhaling deeply. Lust rushed through 
me and my body shook harder. Mac leaned forward and planted a 
soft kiss on my pubes where my throbbing clit was trying to peek 
through my cunt lips. I moaned in pleasure.
      He rose and pulled me to the bed. “I’ll be right with you.” I 
lay back and watched him strip. Even in passion he was precise, 
carefully folding his uniform over the back of a chair so it 
wouldn't wrinkle. When he pushed down his white boxer shorts 
and kicked them off, I gasped. Mac might be short, but his cock 
was a good seven inches long and fat as a baby's leg.
      He walked over to the bed, muscles rippling in his naked 
torso, immense white boner bobbing lewdly. I leaned over and 
flicked my tongue over the head, catching a drop of his pre-come. 
It was sour and delicious. Mac gave a gasp of pleasure. I grasped 
his erect organ and drew him onto the bed. Mac lay back while I 
bent over his loins, hungry to taste his lovely cock.
      He moaned deeply when I closed my mouth over the head. My 
tongue is large and I've been told it's slightly raspy like a cat's. I 
held the base of his shaft, afraid to let it plunge deep and choke 
me, and lapped on the head, tongue curling around the sensitive 
ridge. Mac was moaning and bucking up at my mouth, trying to 
fuck into my throat. His hips rolled and jerked while my tongue 
laved and bathed the knob of his prick
      “I can't hold back Linda” he cried “I'm going to come in your 
mouth!” Suddenly I wanted his cream. Holding desperately to his 
cock, I redoubled the lashing of my tongue. Mac's moans rose to a 
crescendo and I new his peak was hitting. His hands clutched my 
head, and hot spurts of seed blasted into my mouth, coating my 
tongue and throat. Mac cried out like he'd been wounded and I 
swallowed greedily, my mouth and throat working to contain his 
spurts. Passion was flooding my cunt, and the spasms of tiny 
orgasms rippled through my groin, making me quiver with him.
      Mac subsided and fell back on the bed. I cuddled next to him 
and captured his lips in a sticky kiss. He was totally uninhibited 
about the fact that I had just sucked him off, kissing me 
passionately. My pulse was pounding in my ears and I broke the 
kiss. Propping a pillow under his head, I swung one taut thigh 
over his body and settled my dripping vulva toward his mouth. 
His hands clutched my hips and pulled me down.
      Lust raced through me as his tongue licked the length of my 
moist slit, finally working on my clit. Fire was roaring in my 
moist triangle and belly, and I pushed my cunt hard against his 
mouth. Mac's lips captured my engorged clit and began to nurse 
on it, returning the favor I had given him. Wave after wave of 
ecstasy swept through me. My juice was soaking his lips and chin. 
I began coming, one great, shuddering orgasm after the other. My 
squeals pierced the night and I thought briefly of the neighbors 
upstairs. Another orgasm swept over me and it seemed like I'd 
never stop coming.
      I pulled my cleft free of his mouth. “Enough,” I pleaded. “I 
need to be stuffed!” I worked my way down Mac's twitching body, 
feeling behind me for his cock My hand found it, standing at 
attention again, stiff and firm. I settled over it, and swiped the tip 
the length of my furrow, wetting his knob with my juice. Mac 
groaned as my damp pubic curls caressed his glans.
  When the head was lubricated, I fitted it carefully into my 
seething grotto. I wasn't worried about me length, but the 
thickness of his piston scared me a bit. I was a big girl, but I 
hadn't had many guys and I knew I was almost virgin tight. I 
eased down on his dick, moaning in sweet pain as it stretched the 
oozing membranes of my cunt. Mac's hips lifted as he tried to 
thrust into my pussy, but I backed off. “Lay still, honey, I’ll do it,” 
I begged. He settled down.
      Steadily I impaled myself on his cock letting it slowly stretch 
my sheath. Ripples of pleasure-pain rolled through my body. My 
nipples ached with lust and desire. Mac was making soft, happy 
noises deep in his chest. Finally our pubic hair locked and I had 
his entire thick penis imbedded in my cunt. I moaned with joy and 
began squeezing it with my vaginal muscles. He cried out in 
surprise and pleasure at the first squeeze. I ran my hands over his 
hard chest, playing with his nipples. He couldn't thrust with my 
strong body holding him down. Steadily I massaged his cock with 
my pulsing cunt. Mac began thrashing his head from side to side. 
I knew his orgasm was coming.
      Leaning forward, I trailed my erect nipples over his lips. He 
took the hint and sucked one in, biting the nubbin softly. I moaned 
and began rolling my hips, working his cock in and out of my 
inflamed, wet cleft. We were crying and moaning, deep sounds of 
pleasure and lust. Orgasm overtook me, and I began churning my 
hips, a wild, flailing, grinding motion that no cock could resist. 
As my climax surged in me, Mac cried out, “Oh, God I'm 
coming!”
      His sinuous arms held my body tight to his chest as his 
immense cock fired burst after burst of his come deep in my pussy. 
His climax pushed me over the peak. I screamed in his ear and bit 
down on his shoulder, drawing salty blood in my passion. Mac 
never noticed, intent on how the convulsions of my spasming cunt 
were milking the last of his cream. I collapsed against his body, 
and we drifted off into a slumber that was like a coma. For the 
first time I knew why the French call orgasm “the little death.”
      I woke to counting: “21, 22, 23...” Mac was doing push-ups 
beside my bed. I rolled over and smiled lazily a him, feeling 
content and rested, though the clock said 6.00 a.m. - an hour 
earlier than I usually rise. After 25 pushups, he rose and poured 
me a cup of coffee from the pot he'd brought to the bedroom. We 
showered together, caressing each other's sexual fleas, and then he 
left to collect a fresh uniform at his apartment. He promised to 
call after work.
      Taking a fresh cup of coffee, I went to sit on the patio. 
Warmth and happiness created a glow to match the rising sun. 
Being a real woman had nothing to do with big tits, I thought, just 
as being a real man had nothing to do with height. It's the size of 
his heart and brain that counts. Then I giggled. “A seven inch, 
stiff cock doesn't hurt either,” I whispered. I was looking forward 
to the evening.