Every once in a while, nature figures out a way to get past our defenses. For every trick we come up with, nature and the random chances involved in evolution will find a way to beat it. It's a known fact that guys compare cocks. What's less well known, especially to women, is that guys don't normally compare hard cocks. Generally what they see is the flaccid member, and the rampant flagpoles of porno stars.
Which all explains why Mark never thought his cock was strange. He'd seen porn of course, what young male hadn't? But all he had seen was the tips of dicks as actors jacked them furiously, wasting that seed which splattered against the faces of their lovely costars.
Mark wasn't an ugly guy, since his sandy brown hair and round face gave him a slightly cherubic look. However, due to his interests, and a slight case of introversion, he had not enjoyed the pleasures of female flesh even once during his nineteen years on this planet. A virgin, in other words, fairly well built and toned due to his rock-climbing hobby, but still woefully inexperienced.
So there he was, killing a little time by climbing the side of one of the brick buildings at his college, when he saw her. Mark's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets when he caught sight of the flash of red-gold hair and the incredible body it was attached to. His concentration focused on the sight, his fingers ended up slipping as he followed her movement, taking in her gentle curves. He quickly lost sight of her as the bushes at the base of the building swallowed up his entire field of vision.
Mark impacted heavily, cursing himself for staring. But she had been something; A gorgeous ass: Two teardrops encased in tight blue denim. Her hips, curved nicely into a pair of legs that prior to today he had only wished existed.
His thoughts trailed off as he realized that there was a sticker bush caught under his shirt. Mark thrashed a bit, removing the offending branches, and began the process of extracting himself from the shrubbery. He tried to shrug away the sight that gorgeous figure, but found his mind wandering right back to it, despite his best attempts.
Which of course is why he almost didn't realize that she was watching him until he was nearly face to face with her.
"Are you Ok?" Mark found himself staring into a gorgeous pair of sky blue eyes. He stood there, unable to speak. It was like every masturbation fantasy he had ever had, rolled into one magnificent woman.
"Hello?" The enchanting pale pink lips opened to speak, and Mark realized that he was staring, and rather embarrassingly at that.
"Uh, yeah..." he stammered, trying to slow the rush of blood to his crotch. He tried to think of some witty line, when all he could think of was how much he'd like to drag this woman into the bushes and use her as a relief to his virginal condition.
"You sure? That was a pretty bad fall." The pale eyes held an expression of concern, and Mark shook his head, trying to remember to look at her eyes, and not eighteen inches down.
"I'm fine," he smiled nervously "It was just a little fall." He gestured back towards the brick wall, and the bushes.
"Oh." The woman shrugged, then turned to walk away.
"Wait!" Mark blurted, and realized that he had nothing to say when she turned around with a questioning eye.
They regarded each other with blank stares for a moment, before the redhead broke the silence.
"It's Bridget." She smiled, "You were trying to figure out how to ask my name, right?"
"Yeah! Your name, right!" Mark stuttered out. He had been actually staring at Bridget's magnificent tits, encased as they were in the straining fabric of a tight white t-shirt.
"I don't bite. Take a deep breath, and maybe you could tell me your name." Bridget smirked, pushing back a strand of her red-gold hair, which lay about her shoulders.
Mark hadn't realized how nervous he had been as he coughed out his name. He wasn't used to talking to women, especially not ones right out of his nocturnal fantasies.
"Well, Mark, unless there's something else?" Bridget half-turned, waiting for Mark's response.
"DINNER!" He threw out the word so fast that it almost sounded like a cry for help. He winced, realizing that he was starting to sound like an absolute idiot.
Bridget raised an eyebrow at him, before a sly smile crossed her perfect features.
"That sounds nice." She removed a small pad from her purse and scribbled a brief note on it. "Just use the stairs at my dorm, OK?" She handed him the note with a flourish, and turned again to leave. "Seven?" She tossed over her shoulder as she walked off.
Before he knew it, Mark was at the entrance to Bridget's dorm, a cheap suit borrowed from his roommate his garb. Momentarily he regretted not bringing flowers, but the necessity of preparing himself for THE DATE had left him without the time.
He entered the building, taking the stairs, and found himself outside the dorm room where his titian goddess resided. Mark knocked quietly, a lump rising in his throat as he awaited her answer.
"Door's open!" came the call from inside.
Mark tried the knob, and pushed the door open to reveal a typical women's dorm room, made more interesting by a bed installed in the closed, four lamps which took the place of the fluorescent lighting, and his goddess, Bridget, sitting on a large overstuffed couch.
She was reading, her shoes off, revealing the pale white skin of her feet. She still wore the tight shirt and jeans, which amplified her pleasant curves. Despite his internal admonitions to the contrary, Mark felt his cock beginning to stiffen at the sight of her.
"Hey," Bridget looked up casually from her reclining position. "Pizza's on the desk, so help yourself."
Mark bobbled, his tie constricting his throat. Here she was, not ready to go out, food already prepared. He noted the pepperoni, mushrooms and black olives that adorned the glistening pizza. Dear god, this woman was perfect.
"Going somewhere?" Bridget asked with a smile, gesturing towards his "English Professor" suit.
"I thought we were going out." Mark stated, gesturing towards the door.
"What, go out to a restaurant?" Bridget asked, swinging her feet to the floor. "Make boring small talk about your major, my major, what high school we both went to blah blah blah... When all the time all you're really trying to figure out is if I fuck."
Noting Mark's dropped jaw, she smirked and stood up.
"If I fuck..." She grinned, walking past him and closing the door. The click of the lock was unmistakable in the silence of the room.
"Well, uh, do you?" Mark asked stupidly, his gaze running over her every bump and curve.
"I'm hungry. Maybe after we eat." She smirked, grabbing a slice of pizza from the box.
"But why would you even..." Mark was unable to finish the question, when Bridget broke in.
"Because I don't like to play games, Mark." The was that she pronounced his name brought another throb of blood in his already semi-erect cock. "I don't like to string guys along, for free meals like half the bitches in this dorm. You're cute, and I want to get to know you better."
She paused, taking a huge bite of her slice of pizza before continuing. Mark took the opportunity to grab a slice for himself, inhaling the fresh odor of melted cheese.
"You gonna sit down?" Bridget gestured to the couch. "Sodas are in the fridge by the way." She punctuated the last statement by grabbing herself a blue can from the small refrigerator next to the couch and flopping down on the seat, conspicuously leaving half vacant.
Mark shuffled a bit self-consciously, before fetching himself a drink and settling a bit awkwardly into the couch. Abruptly, Bridget swung her legs up, across the length of the couch, the back of her well-toned calves coming into contact with Mark's thighs. The proximity of her warmth to his dick caused it to nearly leap in his pants, his entire body beginning to feel slight tremors.
They sat there for a moment, not moving save for the soft sounds of their breathing, and the occasional sounds of chewing or swallowing. Marks entire body was trembling with the mix of desire and fear.
"You Ok?" Bridget asked, her face taking on the now familiar aspect of concern.
"I... I'm just a little... I don't know what you want me to do." Mark completed the thought with a long, ragged exhale.
A soft smile came across Bridget's face. Impishly, she raised one of her legs from it's position astride his lap.
"Well, for starters you could rub this foot for a while. I've been on my feet all day." Her pale toes wiggled briefly.
Taking a deep breath, Mark placed his half-full soda on the floor, before grasping her proffered foot. He rubbed it gingerly, slowly, massaging the balls of her feet with his still slightly shaking hands.
Bridget purred softly, extending her arms over her head in a move that cause her perfect breasts to move slightly under her shirt.
"A little harder," she requested, looking into his eyes with an expression he'd never seen on a woman's face before.
Mark slid his hands over the exposed skin of her foot, his hands, strong from his climbing, pressing into the flesh, soothing the muscles and tendons below. It was amazing to him how without saying a word, Bridget managed to guide him exactly where she wanted him via a combination of turning her foot, and odd but understandable and seductive sounds.
After a few minutes, Bridget pulled the foot loose from his grasp. To Mark's questioning gaze, she smiled and raised her other foot from his thigh.
.... There is more of this story ...