42 Filthy Fucking Stories (19 page)

She twisted and turned under his weight, reaching over to his cock and stroked it as hard as his fingers had plunged into her pussy, pulling on it. The friction sent a shock through his body, and sent a surge of adrenaline through him so powerful he could no longer take it. He lifted his hand from her mouth, and bracing himself above her with one hand he took his dick from her hand, then knelt before her.
 

Jason picked up her head and shoved it toward his cock. She obliged and began long, fast strokes with her hot, wet lips, licking the tip of his dick, then swallowing his shaft to the base.
 

He felt his length move through her mouth to where her throat started, faster and faster until the cum started building inside him. She must have felt the throb that comes before the blast, because she pulled away, trading her mouth pussy for her wet soaking real one.
 

She arched her back as he entered her, thrusting his cock into her hard, almost violently, as he surrendered all control. She met each thrust of his with thrusts of her own, arching her back and slamming her body against him over and over again. The moonlight drenched them in blue light as he grabbed her tits and pinched her hard nipples, pounding his hips harder and faster against her, fucking the shit out of her just like she had suggested, as each movement flushed his memory and rinsed the place, and Camille, from his mind.
 

Jason felt no guilt or sadness, just the raw, savage energy of revenge sex, and undiluted lust for the blonde bitch writhing beneath him.
 

Fuck. Her.

Her entire body shuddered as she came hard. Her tightening pussy wrapped pressure around his dick, driving him wild with a raw need for release.
 

He pounded her harder, looking away from her and into the trees.
 

Every thought vacated his mind, and his drunken mouth spewed Camille’s name as he flooded the woman beneath him with spunk. Jason wasn’t even aware that he had said her name, just kept emptying his yogurt into her hungry cunt until he was done, then fell into a crumpled heap beside her as she shook her way through her orgasm.
 

She stroked her pussy in circles, her clit swollen from the hard rubbing. Using her free hand to squeeze her right tit, she softly moaned. She came once more, then stopped shaking as she lay beside him, not touching him until her breathing returned to normal.
 

The blond laughed, cracking the silence of the still between them as she started to dress herself. “Feel better?” she asked, in the same causal tone she had used to suggest revenge sex.
 

Jason could only stare, unsure what he should say to this woman. She was staring down at him, hands on her hips, a wide smile lighting her face as much as the moonlight. What was there to say?
 

“I guess,” was all he could manage.
 

She laughed. It felt as if she were mocking him, at least a little. She sat back down beside him, curled her knees to her chest, then turned to him with understanding eyes. “My name isn’t Camille
 
by the way. Close, but a little off. I’m Collette.”
 

He hadn’t known her name, and didn’t care to put a name with the face. He dressed himself and they quietly walked back to the XTerra.
 

Jason wasn’t sure if he would feel better or worse in the morning, but he was glad he’d gone for a ride and met the hot blond with the bubble ass. He wasn’t sure how long it would take to forget Camille, or if he ever would, but fucking his pain away with one stranger after another would be a helluva good start.
 

Fuck. Her.
 

XXX

A Professor Popped My Cherry

I was a good girl, who had never really given too much thought to sex. I was concerned with good grades and a brilliant future. Men, and relationships, would have to come second. Not that I wasn’t interested. Like every other girl, I could appreciate a good looking guy and would get the same glisten in my slit as any other warm blooded woman. I had read about sex plenty, and my body would have an involuntary reaction whenever I turned the pages and let the movies play out in my mind, but I never thought to do anything about it. The dull ache usually disappeared on its own and in reasonably little time, and my wet panties would simply get washed with the rest of my laundry.
 

I guess I was late maturing. My parents raised me strict Catholic and sex was taboo. Of course, I didn’t share their beliefs, but I was smart enough to humor them. I was the model daughter, keeping peace in the house with perfect grades and appropriate dress.
 

For 18 years, I never drank, did drugs, or dated.
 

For the last four of those years, I waited for college.
 

I knew there was a lot of life to live if I could only put miles between me and my family, so when it came time to pick colleges, I chose ones that were as far from our home in the suburbs of Raleigh, NC as possible. I looked at Harvard, Yale, Brown, Dartmouth, even UCLA. I eventually settled on Brown University in Rhode Island.
 

Brown wasn’t as intimidating as Harvard or Yale, and not as far off as California. I’m an east coast girl, and the west coast was just too different; something I discovered when my father indulged me by taking me to visit UC Santa Barbara. The weather was warm and the skies were gorgeous, but nobody waved and everyone’s smiles seemed pinned to their face.
 

School drew nearer, and after packing my few belongings into my smoke colored BMW 650i on a hot August day, I was off to the land of the ivy leagues. I packed only my books, laptop, and one small box of warm weather clothes.

The weather wouldn’t last up north. My mother and I had gone up in July to secure and furnish the off-campus apartment with everything I needed, including clothes and toiletries. Daddy gave me a platinum card, in case I needed anything else.
 

Once at school, I quickly settled into a new routine – going to classes, studying, and reading every evening. I had never been especially comfortable around my peers in high school, and college wasn’t any different. All anyone wanted to do was party, which still seemed silly to me, even far away from home and my parent’s watchful eyes.
 

I was slightly disappointed in myself though, I had retreated to a far off school so I could “sow my wild oats” if I wanted, but was doing the same thing I’d always done. I wasn’t sure how to meet new people, and quickly found myself mired in my old routine.
 

That all changed so quickly one Friday night, that my life and pussy would never be the same. I was in the library studying, like usual, wrapped in an oversized book, sitting in an oversized chair, completely oblivious to my surroundings. A throat cleared, and I turned to see a man standing beside me, just inches away.
 

I nearly jumped from my chair.
 

“Oh my God, you scared me!” I squealed. My hand was over my chest, trying to calm my rapid breath.
 

“My apologies” the man said, a slight grin flashing across his handsome face. He was about 5’10” tall and muscular, his sandy brown hair was messy, but framed his face well. He was older, and attractive, though somewhat tired looking, too. His clothes were tailored, but rumpled, as if they’d been working all day and were just as tired as he was.

“Daniel Smith” he said, holding out his hand. I shook it lightly.

“Madison Davis,” I replied.
 

“Well, nice to meet you Madison Davis,” he said, his eyes meeting mine and refusing to release them. “Why are you stuck in here on a Friday night?” He pulled another one of the overstuffed chairs beside me and sat. I set my oversized book on the floor beside me.

“Studying” I said, slight sarcasm leaking into my voice.
 

He grinned, and then clarified. “Usually, freshmen are out partying after studying all week.”
 

“What makes you think I’m a freshman?” I was surprised by my light flirting, suddenly wet, and mostly alone in the library.
 

“I don’t think,” he teased. “I know.”
 

“And how could you possibly know something like that?”

“You’re in here every night,” he said. “So I asked around. I had to wonder why a girl as gorgeous as you was always studying.”
 

My breath was in my throat. I had never been called gorgeous by anyone, and only my grandma called me beautiful. I was average at best, mousy at worst – small, just 5’ 3” with average breasts and tiny hips. I wear tortoise shell glasses, and while my long dark brown hair is certainly pretty, it’s definitely not beautiful. Same with my eyes, a light chestnut, but nothing special, just like my mouth and my nose.
 

“Y…y..you think I’m beautiful,” I stammered, dumbstruck.
 

“I said gorgeous,” Daniel smiled. “And yeah, don’t you own a mirror?”

“Uhh..Thank You?” I said, not used to compliments that didn’t involve test scores or potential.
 

“You’re quite welcome,” he said, his half-cocked grin lit the green in his eyes.

“Do you find me amusing?”
 

“I find you interesting,” he said, in a voice that said he meant it. “Far too interesting to spend another minute in here, at least tonight.” He leaned from his chair over to mine. “How about you put the books away for the night, and have a drink with me?”
 

“I don’t drink,” I said automatically.
 

“Never?”
 

“Never.”
 

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” he grin grew impossibly wider.
 

 
I wrestled with myself inside, knowing this was a chance to be brave, an opportunity to do something outside of my overly comfortable and familiar routine. It took a long minute, but staring at this weary, attractive man in the chair beside me, and feeling the wet in my panties, I made my decision. “Sure, why not?” I said.
 

My enthusiasm sounded brighter than I actually felt, since most of me was SAT morning nervous. I’d never been out with a man before, and had truly never had a drink. I packed my things, and to my surprise, he took my hand and led me from the library.
 

“Should I go home and change?” I asked, looking down at my plain jeans and hoodie.
 

“No need,” he said. “You’re perfect.”
 

I shook my head in silent shock as he led me to his car, a large black SUV, a Cadillac Escalade I noticed as we approached. He opened my door, then took my bag and tossed it in the back seat. We wound our way through the small campus, then a short 5-minute drive later, parked in front of a small restaurant. The parking lot was dotted with older cars. A spark of curiosity lit to a fire as I stared at the small wood building with a tiny sign above the front door that said
The Faculty.
 

Daniel killed the engine, stepped from the car and opened my door, then held his hand out so I could easily climb from the cabin. We stepped through the doors and I immediately understood how the place got its name.
 

There were no students, but there were plenty of my professors scattered around the restaurant, some eating, some at the bar drinking, some at a table with other professors, laughing and trading stories.
 

Daniel led me to a small booth toward the back, and then gestured for me to sit. He climbed into the booth across from me, staring as if he was searching for the right assembly of words. She looked at me as if she’d never seen a student before.
 

“What can I get you?” She asked.
 

I looked to Daniel, unsure. “Two Jack and Cokes,” he said, never moving his eyes from mine. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked, concerned.
 

“Noonish,” I said.
 

“Some rolls too please,” he said

“Coming up,” the waitress said, and then was gone.
 

Daniel fueled the conversation, asking me about everything from my major to my hometown. He wanted to know my favorite books, movies, and music. We had a lot in common. He was a law professor; I was majoring in Literature, which explained why we had never crossed paths before the library. Outside our primary focus, it seemed we enjoyed many of the same things, we talked about everything, and I was relaxed from the drink, which made it easier to open up.
 

I wasn’t sure if it was the drink, or the professor himself, but something was making my pussy pound, as it never had before. This was more than the excitement between the pages; this was the promise of a body beside mine. I couldn’t stop thinking that the panties absorbing my soak wouldn’t simply be another wet pair that went in the wash. If everything went as I was starting to hope it would go, these panties would be the first pair to hold the soak of another man, too.