Shortly after school began for her second year at Seaside U., Vixen established an interesting and pleasurable relationship with the college dean. He was a distinguished-looking man in his mid-forties with a shrewish wife and three demanding children. His Friday afternoon assignations with the lovely sophomore became the highlight of his busy week and a way for him to find relief from the pressures of his home and job.
For Vixen they were an exciting duty as well as a joy for the dean was a well-endowed man of some experience, and they always started in his shower after he undressed her and sucked her wondrous tits.
Early in the school year, Vixen was invited to join the cheerleaders who performed at football games. She declined and went out for the volleyball and soccer teams. She ended up as a reserve member of the Seaside's coed volleyball squad. Vixen was a good setter and a courageous getter, but she couldn't jump high enough at the net to make those needed kills.
Attendance at volleyball games more than doubled because watching Vixen bounce and run was an unalloyed pleasure for most young males despite the fact that it was just about the only time she wore her sports bra.
After every game, there were panting boys waiting for her at the dressing room door and few weeks passed that she did not have her pick of youngsters hoping to die between her legs. Most of her fortunate choices, in fact did just that, some of the luckier boys more than once.
With Brad graduated, Vixen had no regular studentbody lover as she began her second year of college. Eager Jim Victor was still around, but was barely adequate although he was learning and improving with weekly lessons that left him exhausted and happy.
Steven Wilson, junior quarterback of the Seahawks spotted Vixen in the student lounge in mid-September and felt his cock tremble. Jim was getting all the sex he needed from two of the cheerleaders and a girl in his science class who claimed to be a world-class cocksucker, but Vixen boiled his blood and stimulated several primary glands.
He crossed the room, smiling and hardening, and plunked himself down by the pretty sophomore with her nose in a history book and her long legs crossed at the ankle, her Levis skin tight and displaying the outline of her bulging mons and tight labia, the proverbial cameltoe. "Hi," he said. "How come I don't know you?"
She smiled and shook her head, tossing short red curls and bobbling her high boobs and slipping one halter strap off her shoulder. "You're on the team, aren't you?" she said, feeling that her right breast was just about to appear in public.
"Yep," he said, putting the strap where it belonged and letting his wrist rub her nipple, "I'm Steve, first-string quarterback, number twelve. Like to go for a ride?"
"On what?" Vixen asked, glancing at his swelling groin, feeling him radiating heat, smelling his lust. She had gone almost three days without copulating and felt the need. He might be the one, she thought, a full-time lover, a "steady" as some still called it.
He laughed. "I've got a Harley outside."
"Sure," the girl said, not having enjoyed male company since the night after her team lost to a junior college. The boy she picked, a big fellow with bulging muscles, proved to be a quick-come, one-shot dud, and Vixen and Cal had solaced each other as best they could in the classic sixty-nine position until they slept, still tangled together.
At least I'm dressed for it, Vixen thought as she swung one Levi-covered leg over the big bike and wiggled down behind the thick young man on the front of the long seat. They roared off with Vixen hanging on around his ribs, and he headed for the coastal road and twisted the grip, loving the exhaust's roar and the feel of large, firm breasts on his back.
A few miles down the narrow road, he turned off and followed a trail she couldn't see and stopped with a showoff slide deep in the woods.
She hopped off and looked around, pushing her hair out of her face. Jim had offered her his helmet, but she declined with a smile, aware that the state's helmet law was a jumble and seldom enforced.
They could have been a hundred miles from civilization instead of five miles from school, Starbucks and McDonalds. The young man took her by the hand and led her up a sandy hillside. And there was the ocean, spreading, softly gray and reaching the hazy horizon.
"Isn't it neat?" he said, hugging her. "Like a private world."
"Um," she said, nuzzling his broad chest.
His hand caressed her firm butt as he bent to kiss her. Their tongues tangled and the football player felt Vixen's hard nipples drilling into his chest. He scooped her up and carried her back to his bike. He put her on the seat and then, with her cooperation, stripped off her short boots, tight Levis and tiny underpants while he tossed away his shirt and freed his aching cock, letting his pants slide to his boot tops. His thick ram rose and quivered, almost nine long and thick inches of male meat, a destroyer the young man called his oft-exercised member.
Vixen smiled for he had what she needed and a lot of it. Jim got on behind Vixen with his hard ram straight up against her spine, aching for action, rigid and ridged. "Grab the handlebars," he said as he cupped her breasts and tweaked out her nipples. "Up on your toes."
The girl leaned forward, legs spread out widely, feet on the pegs and Jim drove his hard prick up into her dripping slot after a few strokes of her fluttering labia. She was more than ready and sighed with pleasure, wiggling as he filled her. He was good and big, thick and hard and full of testosterone and energy. Just what she needed. She rocked her hips about and gritted her teeth as he went still deeper, grunting with effort.
Jim howled with pleasure as his long cock was wrapped in viscous warmth and quivering caresses, his thighs tensed and back bent with effort. Unfortunately, he came very quickly, on his fifth shivering ram, long before Vixen was close to ready, and retreated to the back fender, putting his forehead down on the seat, embarrassed and gasping, his dribbling prick quickly limp on the cold metal.
Vixen turned about and helped him get back on the seat and then pulled his jeans off. Then she squatted on his lap and fed his mouth her firm, round breasts, first one and then the other, until his cock regained its strength and rose between them, standing tall and proudly.
When Vixen felt his long pole bumping her thigh, she backed off so it could rise fully, stroked it a time of two, pleased by its heat and thickness and then impaled herself with a wide smile, her pleasure well earned as she took every inch of it with a sob. The boy's wide head rubbed her cervix in a most enjoyable manner as they began rutting, his balls mashed between them.
The big bike nearly tipped over several time as they furiously fucked each other, Vixen to and froing on his lap and burying his face between her wildly bouncing boobs. Steve took a lot longer to come the second time and by then the girl had enjoyed two throbbing orgasms and was well on her way to a third when he ejaculated with a cry of relief and set her off. She screamed louder than he had and then they held each other and throbbed together until his spent cock was slowly expelled. The wide seat was soaked with their fluids.
Late that afternoon, when football practice was done, and he had showered, Jim appeared at Vixen's dormroom door, eager for more. Cal answered and smiled up at him. Behind her Jim could see Vixen atop some skinny boy, riding him like a cowgirl and smacking his bare ass with glee, urging him onward.
"She's busy," Cal said, "But I'm not."
Steve stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Vixen glanced over her shoulder and waved as Cal led the big athlete to her narrow bed. For the rest of the semester, Cal was number one with Jim, and they never failed to satisfy each other despite the fact that he was twice her size.
That Friday afternoon as Vixen changed her shirt and got ready to go fuck the dean, Cal asked, "Did you see the guy with the black Bentley?"
Vixen readjusted her tiny triangle of o-ring, string panty, the lacy kind the dean loved to chew on, the type that left her wonderfully rounded buttocks completely bare, and shook her head, looking at Cal in the mirror.
"He's the new head of computer science and the CFO. Story is he drove here from California in two days."
"Impossible," said Vixen, pushing her high jugs into the lacy half-bra that matched her panties and provided unneeded lift and separation, but was another of the dean's favorites. "You'd have to average a hundred miles an hour or something." She admired herself in the mirror, putting her arms back and watching her chest swell.
"All I know is what I hear, that and he's a real good looking man, unmarried and a multi-millionaire. That's what they say."