... our erotic memoir

“A story told is a life lived. Once I tell it, I must let it go.” - Chinese proverb.

[If you want to jump directly to the hot scenes, look for = Stockings =]

“That was a horrible first date. I’m really sorry about that, Ali.”

=== Two months earlier === Introduction ====

The instructor called out for Alimay Anders — she raised her hand and confidently called back, “Here,” in a soft, yet angelic voice. Alimay, now you have a name. Aware only of the intoxicating perfume she dispersed with every head move, I lost track of time and barely heard anything the instructor said. Minutes later Alimay’s spare pen quietly hit the floor. That was my opportunity to carpe stylus.

As I plucked it, my face came within an inch of her steamy ribs — hardly an accident. As I tried to hide my tumescence and return her pen, I tapped her shoulder and smiled stupidly. She was annoyed. Her squinty eyes told me she hated instigating another fanboy who’s only interested in her body — she knows how beautiful and sultry she is. What had I done?

I expressed concern about her harsh expressions and how I hated to see such a beautiful face spoiled. She sent darts at me until she recognized that I wasn’t seriously flirting, but trying to make her smile.

When she saw her pen, her annoyance dissolved. “Oh, did I drop that? I can be so clumsy. Thank you, Al.” OMG! She caught my name and remembered it. Why were my pants twitching? Oh, yeah. Self, calm your breathing.

What do I say? “What a beautiful face.” NO! Not that. I’ll whisper close to her ear and breathe her in as I answer, “N-no problem, Alimay. This looks expensive and I wouldn’t want you to lose it.” Play it cool; back off and pretend to take notes. Her right eyebrow went up. Class ended. We reached the aisle together. Now what? Still cool. Ahch! She touched my arm!

“Thanks again for saving my pen, Al. It’s not just expensive, it’s a special gift from my fiancé. He’d be upset if I lost his precious pen.”

What is she telling me? Hard to miss that she’s engaged — message received. But she’s still touching my arm, lingering, making me dizzy. Is she flirting? With me? Her partially open and breathy mouth is fascinating, especially how she licks her lips while staring at me. Bewitching! My pulse raced and my breathing sped up as I imagined the impossible — sucking face with this beauty. “Well, uh, if I knew it was that valuable I would have kept it for myself or sold it on the black market.” Grin, fool, so she knows you’re kidding. Oh oh. She’s too quiet.

“I should have known you are a comedian, Al. Thank goodness. I’ll see you next class. Bye.”

She squeezed my arm. Definitely flirting! As she sachets away, my dick notices and it is trying to follow that tiny, but shapely ass as it sways and the rest of me resists. I choose not to hide my tent and ignore the others around me since I can’t look away. She’s looking over her shoulder; she can see my bulge; she’s giggling. Ohhhh. Warmth flushed through my body. What did she mean by “comedian?”

After a night of pleasant, lusty dreams, I was able to play it cooler over the next days despite the late Spring heat wave. When I saw her, I just waved and walked away. In our next Psych class, she was more friendly than expected. “Did I offend you, Al? You seem to be ignoring me. I hoped we could be friends since most guys just want to get in my panties, assuming I’m wearing any.” She grinned.

BOING! Friends? No panties? She’s messing with me. She’s engaged, so any slim chance I might have had is gone. Friends? I suppose. Did she just glance at my tent? “W-w-well, you can hardly blame them — panties or not. It must be such a pain to have everyone tell you how beautiful you are every day. So you won’t hear it from me. What a curse. You have my sympathy.” Did I go too far? That lusty mouth is lightly gasping; that tongue is licking my lips in my dream.

“Ha! Funny man. Thanks for the compassion.”

That broke the icy facade she kept up with everyone else. She ignored my stiff, throbbing compliment, as I’m sure she gets that constantly, though one eyebrow raises every time she glances at my groin. We compared notes and studied together in the student lounge and settled into a stage between acquaintance and friend. It turned out that despite her elegance, she was just twenty to my nineteen.

Relieving myself after our sessions had to be enough. After a few weeks of bragging about her fiancé, Jay, and her plans for her elaborate wedding — to keep me at bay, I presumed — her demeanor changed and cooled. That distancing annoyed me, but just being near her was worth the heartache.

She confided that she was also frustrated that even with her pull at Ma Bell, she was having trouble getting her phone listing name changed. Currently listed as Alimay Sara Anders, since she was marrying Jay Smither, she didn’t want to be listed as Alimay Sara Smither due to the unfortunate initials! I nearly busted a gut trying not to laugh. She slapped my arm, “It’s not that funny,” she grinned. Despite the embarrassment, she sighed then laughed. Her comfort with me was becoming an irresistible attraction. We even signed up for the same summer class.

Bragging changed to bitching about disagreements. I consoled her and listened without offering advice. I’d learned that lesson a hard way a year earlier. The upside was we got closer physically as well as emotionally. Sitting side by side, I neatly took slight advantage of her pain; I gently touched her hand or lower — on her stockinged thigh. That made me feel guilty, but a stiff dick has no conscience.

No doubt, she saw my slacks bulge and twitch again, but she never commented, just lingered. My swelling must have validated her needs — psych 101 to the rescue. Pulling her against me for a reassuring hug gave me great comfort too, especially as I watched her skirt climb up her sexy, shapely legs and my cock climb with it. She is enjoying teasing me far too much. Maybe she isn’t so prim and proper after all?

==== the date ====

I don’t know why another bride-to-be wanted to date me and not get serious. But nearly a year later, I met May and I learned that she was hugely pissed with her fiancé when she walked in on him having sex with another woman and a couple in the same room; he wanted her to join them and be part of a hard swing. That was enough to make her want to date others, but not enough to break their engagement. Not much later, she dated me and then broke off her engagement. Two years later, she would be my first wife.

After at least a week of seeing her smudged eye makeup and her distress over conflicts with Jay, Ali said she was thinking of splitting up with him. I wondered to myself if her real story were about his cheating. I only knew that I wasn’t going to pursue her or threaten her engagement. She said he complained about her excessive makeup on her pale, rosy skin and her modeling. She was committed to both. With her night job, she wasn’t available to him when he wanted a quickie. I didn’t need that nude image of her with anyone but me.

“He doesn’t support me or listen to me — like you do, Al. And we’re just friends. He insists he’s liberal — he takes nude modeling photos of me, that’s fine — but, he likes showing them to his friends, while I’m there and without asking me. He says he wouldn’t mind if I wanted to date someone now or after our wedding.” BOING! “I don’t believe him. Sometimes I think he just wants to fuck others or for me to fuck someone else while he watches and takes photos. Isn’t that creepy?”

Is this a test or a seduction? She’s asking for an opinion. Is she testing me? Do I offer one? “Well, Ali, maybe that’s a fetish or just a fantasy. Sharing naked images of you might be showing his pride in you, or getting a thrill in exhibiting you. As long as he isn’t doing it to demean you and you agreed, is that bad? Did you ever share that you might be an exhibitionist or ask if he is one? Wanting to watch your mate fuck other men, or women, is a common male fantasy. Some guys need to be a cuck. Women with the same fantasy are called cuckqueens. Yes, they exist too.”

“Me, an exhibitionist? Hell no. Why would you say such a thing?”

My lady doth protest too much. “I wasn’t saying you are. That’s just a way to open a more intimate conversation with him. Ask if he thinks you are one. As a gorgeous runway model, you must have to make quick changes off stage with other models and many eyes watching you strip. Be honest with yourself first. Do you enjoy letting strangers see you naked? Do you prolong being naked? Then ask how he feels about that.”

“Hmm. That’s very insightful. Let me sleep on that. How about we grab dinner and find a quiet place to chat on Friday? Eight p.m. sound good?”

Though I quickly snapped my mouth shut and tried to mask my racing heart, I took a moment of stunned silence. Did she just ask me out? My sexy, hot ‘friend’ wants to spend alone time with me? “Uhh, sure. Sounds perfect. Just give me your address.” Way to play it cool, dummy! Friday is so far away.

It was hot all day Friday, so I had the top down on my sports car as I raced home to Brooklyn from school to prepare for my ‘casual’ date with my engaged beauty. She dominated my thoughts and my hopes for a deep kiss or more so I can’t remember that drive. That was unusual since I’m an extremely focused and aware driver, especially when I wore my sports car. After dressing in a simple, yet mature way, in a style I knew she liked, I headed back out to Queens.

Arriving early, Ali kept me waiting many minutes until she was ready. “Oh, you’re early. I haven’t put my face on yet so don’t look at me. I look hideous without my powder and paint.” She dashed into her room, hiding her rosy face. I knew fishing for a compliment when I heard it. I was thrilled I was right — she didn’t need any makeup to look beautiful. She just wasn’t ready to hear that. Maybe she had an overbearing ‘stage mom’ who drilled the need to pile it on?

“Oh ... my ... God! You’re right. Hideous! I’m blinded. Are you serious? You are beautiful naked — your face, I mean.” For now. Several minutes later she emerged all dolled up with the usual thick makeup, bright red lipstick, well-coiffed hair, and a scarf.

Despite the lingering heat, knowing how fastidious Ali was about appearance, I reluctantly put up the top and windows of my Triumph TR-3. She always started in warm weather with half a quick crank, but that warm night, she cranked slowly. The ammeter read deep discharge while cranking then normal until I turned on the lights. Instead of showing a balanced charge and compensating for the current drain, it read some negative charge. That was something to check out the next day, I thought.

When she saw me put the top up, she smiled and nodded at me, “That is very considerate of you. Thanks for thinking of me. I never saw the top up before.”

“Thanks for noticing. I figured you’d want to keep your hair in place — at least until after dinner. Then the top and windows go in the trunk, where they belong and your scarf may come in handy.” The car once again is cranking very slowly. This is not good!

“Let’s go then!” She seemed tense, distant and angry, but not at me. We zoomed off to a decent Italian restaurant in silence as her mood sombered and she stewed.

It was a slow night, and I knew the owner, so we stayed at the quiet restaurant well past 11 p.m. and chatted. When we left, the car wouldn’t start. It clacked uselessly as much as the near-dead battery allowed. Ali stared at me intensely through squinted eyes as I smiled. “This car has a throwback surprise, my dear.” I dug into my trunk for the rarely used hand crank. She pointed at it and I laughed. The heavy crank fit through a tunnel in the radiator; I cranked once and the Triumph started right up.

Ali’s mood stayed consistently angry and didn’t break until we got to the school ‘swamp’ — our college lovers’ lane — where we could talk in private. She sat wringing her hands as I stripped off the top and windows. I sat and quietly held her hand and waited for her to speak.

As she sniffled, I tried not to stare at her slim and sexy legs exposed from under the tiny skirt, the garter connections to her stockings, or the white panties which occasionally peeked out as she moved. Many quiet minutes went by as I sighed and followed my fantasy. When I put my arm around her and she put her head on my shoulder, I held her hand with my left and let it drift to my stiffness. She noticed when I pressed it against me and pulled away.

“You’re just like all the others after all. Take me home. Now!”

“Of course, Cherie. If that’s what you want. Please don’t blame me for being aroused by your beauty. Resisting you has been very hard, as you felt.” I smiled to ease the tension. She was not amused. My TR-3 was unable to start, so I cranked her to life again and we started toward her home slowly and in silence. We didn’t make it there. My reliable car sputtered to a stop still miles from her home. That time, even cranking couldn’t get her back to life. It was after 1 a.m. on deserted streets so there was no one to ask for a jump.

What to do? What to do? I went to a phone booth nearby and called a friend — he didn’t answer. Calling a tow truck wouldn’t help if the battery wouldn’t hold a charge. My last option was to call my dad to rescue me. He found us about 2 a.m ... Ali was too distraught to chat with him, but his brows rose when he saw her. I drove her home in his Mustang. Still hoping for just a little kiss, stealing first base was out of the question. “That was a horrible first date. I’m really sorry about that, Ali.” She stomped up her stairs without a word. No bases that night, no hug good night. I totally struck out.

When I got back to my dad, he commented lightly about how hot Ali was. Despite having several minutes of silence while I let the Mustang charge my battery, I was too annoyed to say much. After twenty minutes or so, the Triumph started and dad followed me home. I put the battery on a charger overnight and fixed the problem the next day.

I figured that was the last time she’d talk to me. In fact, we didn’t speak for several classes. When I just said, “Hello,” she’d huff and turn away. My spirits sank with my shoulders as I began to mourn the loss of a friend and possible lover.

I recalled that her birthday was in two weeks, so my lovesick facet overtook my rational self and I hunted down an album I swore she’d love. Thinking with my small head, I drove to her place on her birthday, uninvited. All smiles, she had several people there and celebrating. When she saw me, her smiles turned to frowns. “What are you doing here?” A quick look around, and her pushing me away from the door, told me I still wasn’t welcome. I handed her the Bee Gees album with a bow on it. “Thank you, but I hate falsetto voices.” She shoved the album back at me and closed the door. Ouch!

Refusing to take the full hint and hoping for the best, I exchanged the Bee Gees for a Beetles album. When I tried to give it to her in our next class, she refused it. “I can’t take this from you. Don’t swap it for anything else.” The big classroom chilled around me. I accepted we were done even as friends and stopped greeting or talking to her.

Instead, I made inroads with a very, VERY pretty but highly affected and conceited woman, Ellie. She only deigned to speak to me since we were in two classes together and I teased her, but didn’t ask her out — yet. One day, Ellie ignored my car horn because, “everyone honks at her,” her words. She kept her long, blonde hair wrapped around the top of her head and always wore a short neck scarf, both in the current style of a stewardess. Always walking stiffly with strained elegance, she expected to become an entitled stewardess. Add a pound of perfectly over-applied makeup to her conceit and most men walked away after a second glance. Ellie was too much work even for me, so I gave up on her.

==== Stockings ====

Weeks after her birthday and despite all her sophistication and her resolve to ignore me, one day Ali stopped me and asked for advice about her stockings. She looked dour and annoyed. Someone, maybe Jay, told her that men found it sexy to see the lacy top of stockings and she wanted me to confirm. I did! But then I saw her stockings. She said she thought they looked gauche, but “OK, if that’s what you like...” She huffed and walked away quickly.

I had to shout after her, “Whoa, whoa, not like that,” and pointed at her slim legs. She stopped three steps up from me on a wide, concrete stairway which gave me a great view of her legs even an inch above her stocking tops. With much detachment and nothing to lose, I said, “Let me speak bluntly. THOSE are not sexy. They look like granny support hose with the lacy tops fallen to your knees. To be sexy, the lace has to be very high up your thighs. The upper end, in my opinion, has to be in the tapered dip above the biggest thigh muscle and within a breath of your vulva. It’s sexy because it tells us we’re getting very close to seeing your taboo pussy, or at least your panties. Of course, even plain cotton panties are sexy if they promise a peek at your camel toe. I thought all women knew that.”

“No! I never heard any of that. Who’s going to tell me? My mom? As if!”

We were on a hillside walkway between several temporary college buildings. “Well, let’s see how much we can change THAT look.” I pointed to her legs and cringed. “Where is there a full length mirror nearby, besides the ladies’ room?” We looked around and remembered the student lounge had one. But, there were too many people around to do what I wanted to do. I asked her to check the Ladies’. It was empty so I went in with her.

Her beige, wool skirt ended about four inches over her knees, but her stocking tops were below that and went to her knee joint. “Trust me?” I asked with truly honest intentions. She paused, then nodded. I asked her to raise her skirt to mid thigh, then higher. When she did, I asked what she thought about how her tops looked in the mirror.

“Ugly! Hideous!” she said. I had her take off one shoe, knelt and put her warm foot on my thigh. After struggling to stretch her stocking, starting at her toes, I kept stretching and sliding my hands up slim her leg for the most intimate contact we’d ever had. Between her raised leg and my movements, I had frequent and prolonged peeks at her pale green bikini panties.

“You see how much better your legs look with much more thigh exposed? I just need to get the stocking up there and beyond. Lift your skirt higher for me and spread your feet.” She scoffed, justifiably believing I wanted a close up view, but lifted it to panties’ height anyway.

“Is that high enough, or should I just take off the skirt?” Fortunately, I recognized her aloof, obnoxious, and sarcastic manner as a defensive facade and I didn’t answer, but got my hands inside her stocking top and pulled and stretched it along her shapely thigh. Recognizing that I saw thru her seemed to be assuring her about me and seeded a stronger connection. I made sure to brush her pussy every time I pulled the inner tops up. She flinched the first time, but was very stoic after that so I enjoyed my prolonged contact with her smoldering pussy. “I hope you’re enjoying touching me. Consider that your reward for helping me!” She barked.

“Thank you, believe me, I do,” I smiled. “I figured that being a model, you’re used to stripping around groups of people and even being touched intimately by a variety of people with any possible excuse. Tell me that doesn’t happen! Now that I got the top close to your leg top, you can lower your skirt. Too far! Just until the bottom lace edge is hidden. Maximize the peek-a-boo effect. When you sit, it will show more and men will fall over for a better peek. How does this leg look compared to the other?”

She twisted several time as she stared into the mirror and looked for a reason to deny the truth. “Yes, damn it! It does look much hotter, but I can’t wear my skirts this short in public. Yes, yes, I know I wear much less in a bikini and on a runway. Often, our cheeks are hanging out, some let their tits loose and uncovered and it’s not unusual to see camel toes. I almost never go that far, almost. But, you know how model tits are supposed to be small, like mine. Is there, um, any CT?”

Such subtle direction. I didn’t answer that last question, but YES, there was a thickening camel toe and I kept trying to sniff it as I tightened her panties around it. “If you can get half or more of your tops into the final, tapered part of your thigh, they will also stay up longer. When it does start to slip, pick a sucker and tease the hell out of him by stretching your stockings all the way up and letting your skirt rise to your hips. Believe me, the whole room will go silent.” She smiled and closed her eyes, visualizing her arousal at exhibiting, as I pressed lazy, daring circles around her dampening pussy.

After I stretched the other stocking, I exercised her pussy and thumbed her clit — no more subtlety needed! A small wet spot appeared and quickly grew. I inhaled her subtle, heavenly scent. She was silent, her head tilted back. Her clit was already escaping its hood and putting a dent in her panties. I slipped two fingers into her wet panties and she gasped, but didn’t object. Even if someone entered, I wasn’t about to stop. My fingers slid up and one bumped over her clit and lightly pinched it. She lurched and grunted.

Abandoning her sexy legs, I slid her panties down while she still kept her skirt at hip level. Her bald pussy lips were swollen, gaping and inviting. I accepted the invitation and dove in nose first. Even while inhaling her deepest fragrance, my tongue pushed in and licked her swollen outer and inner labia. Her gasp echoed and amplified in the rest room. It was truly music to my ears. My fingers slid under my tongue and pulled more of her tangy nectar into my hungry mouth. I surrendered to the moment, as did she. Our breathing quickly increased and long before I expected or wanted it, she shuddered and hissed a barely controlled orgasm. I savored her extra flow and kept drinking.

Before she let her skirt fall, she took some moments to calm down, leaving her legs spread and pussy gaping for me. “That was great. Thank you, but don’t make too much of it. Please, just think of it like a long, warm hug. My fiancé is OK with our having separate sex, but if you make too much of it, this will never happen again. You have great oral talent and I may even reciprocate, but not now. I just tested clean for STDs and am on the pill, so you are safe. Am I? You can keep the panties! How does such a shy boy know so much about a woman’s body? Get your cock under control and let’s go.”

She smirked at her obvious control over me, especially when I sniffed and licked her not so prim and proper panties as she watched with a wicked, dominant smile. Before exiting, she evened out her stockings and rolled her skirt up four more inches confirming she did have an exhibitionist streak in her after all. “Yes, Ali, you are safe too. I always start off with women gently, with respect and am often taken as shy. A bit of that lingers in me, but I have practical experience and studied genital anatomy and Masters & Johnson since grade eleven. There’s much more I can show you.”

I grinned as I let her absorb that then walk ahead of me, up the steep stairway, and watched her damp, naked, and gaping pussy twist and tease under her shortened skirt. Lovely. My stiff again cock enjoyed the show too. Even ten feet away, I felt her clit tingle as she squeezed it, as if it were my own.

The rest of that school year, she hunted me down at least weekly. The first time, she clutched my shirt and gasped in my ear, “Come on, stud. I want you to fuck me hard and fast. No romance, just hot sex. You OK with that?” Of course, I agreed. We found a different Rest Room. She locked the door, attacked my slacks, and pushed them down with my briefs. “I’m only doing this with you because I trust you to be discrete and not get attached. Sometimes, I just need a hot, stiff cock. I hope you are up to it. Ohhh, I see you are. And uncut. This is new for me. Shove it in me and make like a rabbit!”

She pulled her snug skirt up to her waist until she exposed her bald pussy and pubic patch. Fiercely grabbing my swelling cock, jerking much too hard, she hurt it badly. “Hey, beautiful, if you keep that up I won’t be able to perform and you may cause damages. Slow down and be mindful of me too. Stop! I see your gaping pussy is swollen and wet; maybe this is a good time to return my oral favors? If all you want is to get off fast, get a vibrator and use it as I eat you. But if you want a more satisfying fuck, suck me deep and get me off first so I’ll last in you more than thirty seconds. What’s it going to be?” Daggers shot out of her eyes as she continued to rub my softening cock against her clit. She puckered her lips as she debated leaving me as I was, or complying with me.

“You do know I can have anyone on campus or at work so I’m doing you a huge favor just letting you see my pussy?” Startled by her own angry words and defensive horniness, she gasped, squeezed my cock, and frowned. “No one has ever stood up to me like that. I don’t know what to do. I won’t kiss you since that’s too intimate and too close to cheating.” She looked down at our naked genitals and laughed as she shook my cock and slowly slid my foreskin back and forth. “I’m sorry was such a cold bitch. You do have a beautiful cock with the hood up or down. I guess sucking you off is OK. Maybe next time we’ll try 69, but —”

“Thanks, but if you mean your apology, you’ll get on your knees and deep throat me now. A few minutes after that, I’ll fuck you. In between, I’ll drink from your pussy until you cum. But, I won’t be your vibrator replacement or simple fuck toy.” What has gotten into me? Am I ready to refuse a gift horse as hot as she is? I guess I am. Now we’ll see how horny she is. Her mouth dropped. I reached to unlock the door. She dropped to her knees.

“OK. You’re right. I’ll blow you, but I won’t swallow. Never do.”

Risking it all, I said, “Yes, you will swallow every drop then lick my cock and balls clean. The thing with deep throat is when I cum while in your throat, you won’t taste me. After my first load, I want to fill your mouth; I want you to savor my cum before you swallow it. After I fuck you, I want you to suck me clean of both our juices. Then it’s up to you if you want to share our cum with me. That’s the deal. Do that and I’ll cum whenever you call. If you agree, stay on your knees and start licking.” That’s the tipping point. The risk of losing her pretty pussy is high. Her delay and indecision are lasting too long.

Someone rattled the door harshly. Ali shouted, “Busy in here cleaning up my vomit. Find another room.” We listened to the welcome sound of heels echoing as they clacked quickly down the hall. She smiled at me, yet never lost eye or hand contact with my cock. Slowly, her tongue reached out and licked under my hard shaft. I sighed as much in relief of winning my dare, as from feeling her hot tongue lap my cock seconds before she sucked me into her steamy mouth. When I hit the back of her mouth, she surprised me with no gag reaction. As I slid into her snug throat, she smiled around my cock while I moaned, once more under her control.

With her wet pussy temporarily out of reach, I pinched and twisted an obvious nipple until she lurched and grunted hard. Then I pulled her blouse and bra up to her chin. Her pale, tiny tits had barely stopped their rebound when she popped me out of her throat in panic. “No. Not my tits. They’re ugly and small and I don’t like showing them.” Her face and eyes crumbled, nearly sobbing her distress. Who had beat that self image into her?

“Sweetie, I want them umm, handy regardless of how they look. They are not ugly. Size and shape are nice visual attractants, but not why I want access to them. Since your pussy is out of reach for the moment, I want to pinch your rosy nipples to make your clit throb. You just felt that connection and seemed to enjoy it.” Easy on the sarcasm, dummy. “Your reaction tells me your pebbles are sensitive. I’ll taste and nibble on them when we fuck.”

Relieved, ‘Ms. Prim and Proper ‘ sucked me directly into her hot throat until her nose was buried in my pubes. Somehow, her tongue wrapped around my shaft between gulps and squeezes. Ali backed off for air then quickly plunged deeply onto me. As if my moans weren’t enough, she began to hum ‘Oh say can you SEEEEEEEEE,’ and I began to shoot into her as I pinched her hard pebble-nipples. She groaned, convulsed and came as I did.

After firing three times, I backed out slightly and filled her mouth as promised. Her eyes widened and I had to hold her head on me as I pinched the same nipple hard again. She groaned again and accepted my load. When I stopped grunting and spurting, she gently backed off my cock, still sucking my crown. As she opened her jaw and showed me a mouthful of my cum, she smiled, swallowed it all, then showed me her empty mouth and coated teeth. As she licked her lips and teeth, savoring me as I’d insisted, she didn’t notice the wide smear that gave her a cum moustache. I grabbed my 110 camera and took photos of her on her knees still licking my cock and a clear shot of her new stache.

Before I could stop her, she fixed her top and skirt and unlocked the door. As I pulled up my slacks, she said, “That was fun. It’s always great to find a man with good taste.” Ha. She paused in the doorway, looked around, and added, “I’m late for class, but cumming twice even without fucking was worth it. Meet me here at four and we can finish what we started. Ciao, Bello.” She leaned in for a kiss, but missed and was gone and back in her Ms. Prim and Proper mode, heels clacking in model tempo, before I could warn her about her cum stache. I could only imagine the giggles she got as people guessed what that creamy drop was. Fitting compensation for her final tease!

Leaning against the wall by the Ladies’ door, I checked my watch one more time. It’s four-ten. Maybe she’s pissed I didn’t tell her about her creamy stache so she’s standing me up? Just as I decided to leave, I heard ‘clack, clack, clack-clack, clack’ rushing and echoing in the empty hall. Ali turned a corner and rushed into me. Her face scrunched, she slapped my arm hard and demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me? People were rubbing their noses at me the whole class until someone passed me a tissue and mimed to wipe my lip.” Then she smiled, “It was so embarrassing — yet it got more people actually talking to me.”

I laughed and tried to kiss her. She gave me her cheek. “S-s-sorry. I tried, but you were gone so fast. You can handle them. Night classes start at six so we have up to two hours. Are we doing this or not?”

In answer, Ms. Prim and Proper pushed me into the familiar room, put out an ‘out of order’ sign and locked the door. “Now strip! I want you naked, Al.”

“Funny. I was about to insist on the same thing for you. You want help?” Her mouth dropped to say something, instead, she kicked off her shoes and turned until her skirt’s side zipper faced me. I wasted no time dropping it and the skirt. Silently she turned her naked pussy to me and hesitantly lifted her arms over her head. After unhooking her miracle bra, I pushed it and her blouse up and off her then stepped back to admire her naked beauty, small tits included. “Let’s leave the stockings on this time as a reminder of how we got here.”

“OK. Your turn. Shoes and socks off.” Ms. Prim and Proper attacked my slacks and pushed them off me with my briefs. My cock sprung up and out. She rubbed it with her thigh as she slowly peeled my shirt off. She took a step back and blew me a wolf whistle. “I do like a hairy man.”

“Yeah right. I know I already have a softening bod, but thanks. You may be right about your small tits, but they aren’t ugly and your rosy nipples are perfect for you and responsive. This is where I normally round first, tap second, and vacation and dine on third base. But there’s no first with you and you still want a quick home run. Is that still right?”

“I don’t mind your lingering on all the bases except first. Batter up! You can park your bat in my dugout while you dust off third. Bring me your bat.”

“Yes, coach. Coming ... well not yet, we hope.” As I slowly closed the distance and she reached out for my cock, I begged, “Can we quit the baseball talk now?” As she slowly pumped my shaft, she licked my ear and sent shivers down my body. We hugged and I savored her hard pebbles warming two small spots on my chest. When I nibbled on her ear and scrapped along her neck, I felt her goose bumps along her body. This isn’t the ‘slam, bam’ hard fuck she asked for, but I’m not complaining.

“This is nice,” she sighed, “but exactly what I need to avoid. Make me wet; make me cum on your fingers and your face then fuck me like a rabbit. Make me cum on your beautiful cock and I’ll lick it clean as you asked.”

“As you wish. You are so delicious; cum on my face first.” Fingers first in her wet pussy made her clit grow and her kitty weep. Adding my tongue made her moan loudly. But when I pushed my fingers deep and up, I knew I found her G when she gushed all over my face in a brief torrent and her entire body quaked. Delicious. “Lick my face and taste your squirting.”

“What? I don’t squirt. But your face — it’s drenched.” I smiled and encouraged her to lick me. “Mmm, this is me, but not me as ever tasted me. You made me squirt?”

I bent and took one more deep lick from her taint to her clit. “Now turn, bend, and grab the sink.” She did, but I pushed her head lower. As my cock entered her snug, engaged pussy for the first time, we both gasped and sucked air through narrowed lips as I continued to rabbit her. Her climax slowly approached, but since she wanted it fast and hard, I pushed her face lower and angled my cock so it bumped her already swollen G and she screamed out her orgasm. She triggered me and I filled her pussy with several ropes of hot cum. Her knees caved as she shuddered and I had to breathlessly hold her up until she recovered. Minutes later, I sarcastically asked with a grin, “Was that OK?” She grunted and stayed bent over with my softening cock still in her.

When I twitched and added cum to her purse, I felt her Kegel squeeze bring my soldier back to life. Gasping, I asked if she were petitioning for another round. Fortunately, she gasped, “No! Four hard orgasms are enough for one day. But I’ll be back for more as long as you are willing and able. I guess I need to clean you, us, up?”

“Yes, you do. Let’s catch our breaths first. We have an hour before night classes start.” We held each other until we were ready, my sauced wiener between her bun-like labia. Ignoring our body sweat, she dropped to her knees and took me in mouth with much more relish than I expected. Though I was sore and pained, I let her lick me clean of our juices and experiment with my foreskin. She enjoyed my flinching far too much.

Finally clean, we dressed and she said, “Monday, we meet in a locker room so we can shower. See you then, boy toy.” We walked out and nearly kissed. The rest of that year, we met for more of the same exciting, clandestine, encounters. When she graduated, she vanished. But that wasn’t the end of our story.