When he started university Joe was still an old fashioned guy and he still didn't subscribe to the modern and politically correct tenet that when a woman says no she means NO! His primitive mind believed that the nay saying girl usually wanted to be fucked but didn't want to admit it. And sometimes he was right.
One such case may have been his first girlfriend in university. Janey was about a year older than he, a quiet, almost shy woman, who was more oriented towards intellectual pursuits than he but who seemed to accept his 'jock' mentality. She was all he could ask for in the kissing department but that was as far as he was able to progress for a long, long time. It was only the availability of other less reluctant girls that kept his non-fucking relationship with Janey alive.
Janey and he necked and petted at every opportunity but it went no farther than that. He would return to his room with achingly swollen balls and would take solace from his hand or sometimes he would go to the town and find a local girl who was only too happy to spread her legs for a college boy. Their objective was to get knocked up and thereby snare a college-educated meal ticket but Joe always used a condom.
During the summer he worked in the North in his pre-college job and Janey worked at a resort hotel. By the beginning of September, even though he'd found some relief with a schoolteacher from whom he got crabs, he was no longer willing to wait for marriage.
"Oh God, Janey, he've missed you."
They were in his hotel room in the city where they'd agreed to meet after the long summer apart. He was heading back to college and she to a teaching job in a small fishing village near the city where they were meeting. Their first kiss was deep and wet and he was determined that, this time, he wouldn't take no for an answer.
"No Joe... no... You can't," she protested when he tried to remove her panties. They were in bed, his pants were off but not his undershorts, and her skirt was up around her hips.
Please, Janey... please," he begged as he rolled on top of her. She closed her thighs warmly on his cock, which had slipped out of his shorts, and he began a dry-fuck. But that's as far as he got. He wondered since then how close she was to surrendering. She must have become excited with his prick rubbing over her pussy, even though her panties prevented direct, flesh-to-flesh contact. Anyway fucking her fleshy thighs was better than fucking his hand and she didn't object when he bathed her thighs and her crotch with his semen.
During the next year she came to visit him at the university on several occasions and he adjusted to the dry-fuck limitation although usually his cock would get raw and sore from rubbing over her panties. They never talked about it but he always wondered if she masturbated after he left. He assumed so for, to the best of his knowledge, he never made her cum by dry-fucking her. When he visited her home that Christmas, she gave him an 'almost handjob'. Almost because she didn't really get her hand completely around his cock but she did hold it enough that he shot a load halfway across their living room.
Joe's only 'date' during that year was with a married woman whose husband was in a mental institution. It was an enjoyable liaison that was made even more enjoyable by her plump, precocious twelve-year-old daughter. The word 'No' was never voiced by either the sex-starved woman or her precocious daughter.
It was late spring. The weather was nice, his college year was ended, and he was visiting Janey. She boarded with her aunt, a huge woman in her forties, and her uncle, a gay intellectual. Except 'gay' hadn't been invented in those days, at least not in its present meaning. He was more likely to be called 'queer' or a 'fruit' or some other derogatory term on the rare occasion that his sexual proclivities were mentioned at all. But that has no bearing on this story, anyway.
The house was in darkness except, near the window, where the soft light from a full moon shone. He was sleeping, or rather, lying, on a sofa in the living room of the house where Janey boarded. That was his bed. Janey was sleeping in the small room off the living room and her aunt and uncle were upstairs.
Ouch! He banged his shin on the coffee table when, as quietly as he could, he worked his way across the room to Janey's door. He froze at the loud squeak when he pushed the door open. It probably wasn't as loud as it sounded to him but the house was otherwise silent so it seemed loud.
"Joe? Is that you?" Janey whispered when he approached the bed. "You shouldn't be in here. They'll hear us."
There was a loud creak of the ancient bedsprings when he sat on the edge of her bed and they both held their breath, listening for sounds upstairs. "he had to come kiss you goodnight, darling," he whispered and her mouth opened under his as their tongues tangled wetly. The bed creaked again when he lay down by her side, lifting the covers first so they could be close.
He was wearing only a t-shirt and his jockey shorts and Janey had on a short nightgown of some kind so, when she turned on her side to face him their bodies were excitingly close.
"Joe... no Joe," she whispered between kisses, "You have to go... they'll hear us."
"We aren't making any noise," he whispered back. He'd got one hand under her nightgown and it was on her hip. God! He felt a surge of lust when he realized she didn't have any panties on! He'd never had an opportunity like this with her. "he don't think it'd bother your aunt, anyway." And that was true. Janey's obese aunt was definitely a free spirit and Joe thought she suspected he'd been screwing her niece, even though he wasn't. Not yet, anyway.
"Please Joe... hannh... you have to go," Janey panted when he eased her onto her back and tried to push his knee between her thighs. "We're making... hannhh... a lot of noise... too much." And, in fact, every time they moved the springs on the old bed made a racket that sounded like fighting tomcats.
He had his hand at the top of her tightly closed thighs and was surprised to discover the flesh there was wet and slippery. Was that why she didn't have her panties on? Had she been masturbating before he came into her bedroom? Joe was pretty sure that was the case and maybe that's why, that night, he was finally successful. He'd got to her after she'd ignited her own furnace.
"No... No... Please Joe... not tonight... we can't." He'd freed his penis from his shorts and it was pressed to the bare, warm flesh of her thigh. Was she saying they couldn't dry-fuck, or was she saying that, another time, she'd give in? Her voice sounded different and, somehow, he got the impression that she meant the latter. But, if so, it was likely just a ruse to get him to leave. And he wasn't about to leave.
Janey was strong but, as he continued to try to force his knee between her legs he sensed a gradual yielding. They were kissing again and, despite her entreaties that he had to go, her mouth and tongue were as active as his. And kissing smothered her protests, too. Her arms were around his neck and then his knee was between hers and her legs were parting. There was a slow but unmistakable weakening of her resistance and he gradually moved over her, first his knee clamped between hers, then part of his thigh and then he was on top of her, his throbbing penis trapped between her warm, naked hip flesh and his equally naked belly.
"Shhh... Don't move," Janey gasped when they heard a noise upstairs. He did as she asked. Well, almost unmoving. He was sort of fucking her hip. It was better than fucking her panties, anyway. He was leaking enough juice to lubricate a fleet of trucks and his cock slid easily in the fleshtrap of their close pressed bodies. But he wanted more than that. Much more.
They heard the roar and gurgle of a flushing toilet and he relaxed. Janey did too, a bit, and he slid a hand inward, over her hip and down to the barely accessible gap at the top of her thighs. Oh God! Her pussy! He had his hand on it for the first time. And it was wet.
"Nahh... Hannhh... Nannh," Janey sobbed and he suddenly realized that her face was wet with tears. But, more importantly, he realized also that her legs were no longer gripping his thigh. They had relaxed.
"Darling... oohh Janey, darling... don't cry." He covered her mouth with mine, tasting the saltiness of the tears that, somehow, had trickled down to her lips. But his fingers were there. He was playing with her naked pussy, feeling the fat lips with their wetly matted hair fringe.
"Is that your clitoris, Janey?" he asked although he knew it was. He pressed his finger into the wet slot on the hard, erect nubbin, rubbing it excitedly.
"Yunh... Hanh... yes... Hunnh... No... Hannhh," and he could feel her body shake with sobs as he fingered her. She was crying but she wasn't trying to stop him. Not physically, anyway. "Doh... hoh... hon't," she whimpered in a piteous plea but, like they say, a stiff cock has no conscience nor is it compassionate.
"I love you Janey... I love you," he whispered into her slack-jawed mouth as he pushed her legs wider apart with his other knee.
.... There is more of this story ...