Chapter 11: Tess Tastes Teste Tea, Tells Teacher 'Terrific!'

When I graduated public school, I knew exactly what I wanted to study at university - anthropology, biology, geology, sociology, psychology, philology, physiognomy, paleontology, and, if I had any spare time, botany. And, I wanted to play on the volleyball team, but only so long as it didn't interfere with my studies. Luckily, I had studied speed reading while a child, so I could absorb the contents of a typical college textbook in about an hour. Having nine major fields of study was a bit out of the norm at Oxford. One old poop at Balliol harumphed a bit when I appeared before the admissions committee, but I batted my eyelashes at him and leaned over to pick up a pencil I 'accidentally' dropped, and he withdrew any objection. Once the dons realized that I could do the work, they stood by and watched me learn.

I was actually a virgin when I started uni, but had plans to alter that particular aspect of my life. Soon enough, I met a young fellow who seemed eager enough, and after a few dates, we ended up at his flat, he in his regulation scruffy clothes, and me in my usual wear - a white blouse tied loosely under my un-bra'ed breasts, a dark brown mini skirt I'd bought in the Junior Miss department at Harrods that was about 6 inches long, nylon stockings held up by a six-strap suspender belt, and four inch heels. Just my typical outfit.

You see, I'd decided early on as a young girl that I would take full advantage of whatever physical charms I developed as I grew up, because I knew that competing in a man's world meant using everything I had at my disposal. I started wearing high heels at 12, and trained myself to walk at various speeds in heels as high as 5 inches with no discomfort. My ballet training certainly helped there. I wore only skirts, and usually as short at the law would permit. Never once did I wear pants or jeans after my 12th birthday. When I wore hose, I almost always wore a suspender belt to hold them up, even if they were stay-ups. I didn't mind if, when I sat or bent over, the skirt hem rode up a bit and displayed my stocking tops or welts. I loved knowing that I had an effect on men that I could use to 'level' the playing field, so to speak. Other women may have looked at me with disgust, hatred, or envy, but I didn't care - I had no problem using my physical charms to get to places I wanted to be. I knew that I had a brain too. And I never played the slut or bimbo - I was just hyper-sexualized.

As my body developed, my breasts filled out nicely, and I was a 32C cup by the time I was 15. I exercised at least a half hour every day to strengthen the muscles in my chest, so I could go bra-less almost all the time. I occasionally wore a half-cup demi-bra if it was absolutely necessary.

Bryce and I started necking on the couch, and he had one hand in my blouse, tweaking my right nipple. Now, I don't know if I've told you this, but my nipples are extremely sensitive, and I think they're connected directly to my Bartholin's Glands, as my vagina began lubricating. I was leaking more oil than an MG Midget. I had my hand around his rapidly stiffening member, which I was trying to extract from his pants, with little success. I finally managed to get the entire thing out in the fresh air, and took a good long look at it.

I, of course, has seen erect penises before. But this one was special - it was designated to remove my maidenhead and forever change me from a giddy young schoolgirl into a woman. It was quite a pleasant looking penis, nicely circumsized, and throbbing with what I hoped was desire for me, not an irregular heart beat. I maneuvered myself under him and fitted the glans to the slick opening to my innermost being. Then, steeling myself for the brief moment of pain I'd heard about, I placed both hands on his hips and pulled down. The enormous-feeling head slid in about an inch, encountered some bit of resistance, and then POP!, my hymen disappeared forever.

There was just the slightest twinge of pain, and then the feeling I'd been waiting for seemingly forever, that full, stuffed feeling a girl gets when there's a nice hard penis in her vagina. I fell in love at that instant. Not with Bryce, certainly - he was a nice enough guy, but he was just a means to an end at that point. No, I fell in love with sex. I had a pussy ephipany, a clitoral conversion, a sort of Grafenberg-giddyness took over and suffused my whole body with a feeling of universal joy. I realized then and there that my role in the cosmos was not just to be a beautiful, charming, well educated woman, who, perhaps, someday would be a wife and mother. No, my role, in addition to that, would be to bring sexual joy to myself and as many partners as I could. No sexual union would be denied, no congress disallowed, no combination prohibited. My body belonged, not just to me, but to everyone and anyone who might derive pleasure from it. Meanwhile, Bryce was humping back and forth, and no more than 30 seconds later, he yanked himself out of my welcoming vagina, and ejaculated several streams of semen across my midriff.

I was mildly disappointed, but by the same token, I realized that I had my first opportunity to see semen close up, so to speak. Bryce rolled off me, panting, and I dipped my right index finger into the still-warm liquid. Bringing it to my lips, I inhaled the scent. Manly. Masculine. The scent of life. The smell of sex. It smelled like primordial oceans brimming with one-celled life. I extended my tongue and licked the wet droplet off the tip of my finger. Instantly my senses were overwhelmed with the taste - salty, warm, slightly oily, it was the most entrancing elixir I'd ever tasted. Something in me seemed to explode with passion and love. I quickly scooped up as much of the rest of his emission as I could and sucked it off my fingers. I looked over at Bryce with a gleam in my eye and said, "I want more.". I leaned over his midsection, and popped his half-softened penis into my mouth, suctioning it strongly, pulling the last few drops of his ejaculate into my now-greedy mouth. Within a few moments, he'd hardened back up to a full stand, and I rotated my mouth around him, twirling my tongue over the head and sliding it in and out of my salivating lips and jaw. Over and over I went, pushing my head all the way down his shaft, then pulling back up again, trying to draw another expulsion of ejaculate out of his body.

Suddenly, Bryce tensed up and threw his hips up into my face, forcing the last inch of his penis into my mouth and down my throat. I felt his shaft expand, and quickly moved my mouth up, keeping just the glans behind my lips, and teased the head with my tongue. Suddenly an explosion of wet liquid bathed my tongue in testosterone tea. I was shocked at its' warmth, the aroma filled my mouth and sinus areas, and I gulped it down like a ravenous woman. Two small swallows, and it was gone, the semen and sperm from a man's testicles sliding inexorably down my esophagus to fill my stomach, where it would be absorbed by my own bloodstream and forever be a part of me.

In the back of my mind I of course knew that it was most likely already completely destroyed by my stomach acids, and the hundreds of millions of sperm cells would be dead, but my romantic side felt the millions of life-bearing cells spreading out through my body and infusing me with the genes of the universe. I felt like an 'earth-mother', bearing seeds of life and growth and immortality. I had to have more.