Polly and I kept up a surprisingly steady e-mail correspondence over the summer. There was never any mention of boys she’d met, and although I trusted and believed her, there was always that nagging doubt caused by my lack of self-confidence. When she arranged to pick me up at the airport on my return to school, I had horrible dreams the night before I left. They all were some variant of her meeting me at the gate and telling me in a quiet, serious voice, “I wanted to meet you right away because I’ve got something to tell you, but I really want us to stay friends…”
The next day, my heart stopped for an instant as I saw her waiting for me at the terminal exit, but the enormous smile that broke out on Polly’s face at my appearance calmed those fears. They vanished entirely when she took me straight to our special place and checked in for two nights. “Al, I’ve had a lot of time to think while you’ve been away,” she said as I put my bags down. “And I—ummm—got a couple of books—for us. Would you read them with me—I’ve mean I’ve read them once already, but there are some—things—in them I’d like to try.” She lit a More, which reminded me of how sexy I found her, and I was very agreeable. The first thing she wanted to do was to have me lick her pussy. We’d never done anything oral before beyond kissing, and I was terrible at it—Polly had me stop after ten minutes of aimless, but determined licking, and instead, rolled me onto my back, climbed on top, and rode me to a very explosive orgasm.
Afterwards, as we again read about what it was supposed to do for her, I asked her if we could try it again. “Why? I like having regular sex with you just fine,” Polly quickly answered, reaching for a cigarette. “We don’t have to do that.”
“I’m flattered,” I replied, lighting it for her, “but that was the first time I’ve ever done it, and I don’t think I did a very good job. Maybe I just need practice.”
She looked at me. “Really? You want to do this?” I nodded, telling her that I wanted to be the best lover she’d ever had. “You’re the first lover I’ve ever had,” Polly tenderly replied. “I mean, I’ve had sex before, but you’re the first—to really care.” Polly’s eyes lidded and her face took on the look that I’d come to recognize as saying, “kiss me now.” Our discussion ended, the cigarette was forgotten, and I was quickly inside of Polly yet again, feeling her body move counter to mine, her hips thrusting powerfully at me, ending in long, forceful grinding at our meeting place. There was no frantic ardor, no urgency, just two people whose bodies moved in tandem, echoing the closeness in their hearts.
“Ohhh,” I growled, feeling my orgasm approach. I started to pant, “oh Polly… oh Polly, oh Polly,” quietly, and she responded with soft, inarticulate moans of her own. I felt my cock swell inside of her, heralding my orgasm, but then I felt her orgasm start. Polly’s nails dug into my butt, she pulled me hard against her with a high-pitched, quiet moan, and her eyes got that faraway look. My orgasmic sound was a very soft, guttural, sighed, “Polllllllllllyyyyyy…” and I exploded into her.
We lay on the bed afterwards. The sun had gone down, and I hadn’t yet made it to campus or my new dorm room. Polly played with my chest, stroking and lightly scratching it. “Al,” she began, “I love you.”
I rolled over onto my side and kissed her tenderly. “I love you, too, Polly.” Although she took me to campus the next day and helped me to move in, we left at five to return to our sex nest. The first two nights of my sophomore year weren’t spent in my dorm room, but in our clandestine hideaway with a pair of sex manuals for couples.
Polly and I were conversation partners in French again, only this year, it was by choice. We visited the hideaway with the sex books in tow every other weekend, fully intending to expand our sexual horizons, but they always wound up being an afterthought. Our lovemaking, albeit conventional and not terribly diverse or imaginative by the books’ standards, continued to be spectacularly satisfying, both physically and mentally. However, our sex life was unexpectedly cut off in October. “We can’t go to the motel anymore,” Polly unhappily sighed one night as we studied together. “Mom says I’m spending too much money on that.” I asked if her grades had gone down. “No,” she replied. “In fact, they’ve gone up. I don’t think she’s worried about the sex or our—relationship.”
“Your mom seems so cool about stuff like that,” I commented. “Way cooler than mine would be. Well, my roommate’s like always there, so I don’t have any privacy—”
“I wouldn’t want to do it in a dorm anyway. I wouldn’t feel—right about making noise,” Polly interrupted.
I accepted that, agreeing that it was no fun if we had to worry about keeping quiet, after all, I couldn’t control mine, and I adored the noises she made in her passion. “Well,” I sighed, “we do lots of things together without—the sex thing. I guess we can learn to live without it—as much.”
Polly eagerly agreed, noting that her brother still had tournaments on weekends, and that her mother would occasionally be a chaperone for the trip. “At least we know we’ll have some privacy at my house from time to time.”
The following Saturday, we had a date, dinner at a nearby restaurant followed by a movie. Our raging hormones made it difficult to keep our hands away from the dangerous areas, although Polly’s hands definitely roamed more than mine. When we got into her car after the movie, she turned to look at me. Polly’s eyes were half-lidded, her face was flushed, and her lips were slightly open and inviting. Before I could say anything, my girlfriend reached across the car and kissed me hungrily. I responded and began to harden and we were both panting. “God, I want to make love to you now,” she gasped. “I think I know where…” Fifteen minutes later, we were pulling into a space at one of the local make-out spots. We were one of about a dozen or so cars in a secluded part of one of the local parks. Almost immediately after Polly got my pants open and I had her shirt undone and her bra unhooked, a bright light flooded the darkness of the car. We froze, panicked, and I realized that not only was our car illuminated, but that most of the other ones were as well. The light was blinding enough that we couldn’t see into any of the other cars, but the flashing red and blue strobe light told us everything we needed to know. We hastily fixed ourselves before the police officer tapped on our window. He shined his flashlight on us, and seeing that we were dressed, shook his head, and waved for us to leave. “I would pick a fucking time when the police were on their morality raids,” Polly grumbled as we pulled away. She looked at me and blushed, “This was where all the kids in high school came to make out—or more. Every so often, a couple of parents get upset, usually when one of the cheerleaders got pregnant, and the cops show up and chase people away for awhile. I should have waited until much later, after all the high schoolers are supposed to be at home. I’m sorry, Al.”
That was my first ever experience with blue balls. My roommate was studying when I got back to the room, and so I had no privacy during which to relieve my frustration. Unfortunately, since my roommate was a bigger nerd than I was, it wasn’t my last. He always spent Friday and Saturday nights studying in the room, and I found myself wishing that he’d get sick enough to have to stay in the infirmary for a night, just so I didn’t have to go to sleep with a light on in the room for once. When daydreaming about making love with Polly began to occupy more of my study time than my course work, I knew I had to do something.
I hung out my tutoring shingle for Calculus and French. Amazingly, I got a response before I had finished hanging up fliers, and it was from the sorority girl who had spurned me as a partner in last year’s French conversation class. She was in the same class again this year, because “I had to drop the course at the last minute and I can’t afford to fail this class. I need it for my major.” Sheila Wells was a senior, and the president of the babe sorority on campus. Blonde, drop-dead gorgeous and popular, she was the type of girl who normally wouldn’t be caught dead with guys like me. Surprisingly, I got beyond her physical beauty quickly; the only reason I was spending time with her was to earn some money for getaways with my girlfriend. However, this meant that I was suddenly spending a lot of alone time with one of the most beautiful women on campus, and something like that did not go unnoticed. Polly was ice-cold towards me the following weekend at our study session for our conversation class.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she sniffed in a tone that clearly said she was lying. “We’ve been in touch by e-mail all week, so it’s not like we haven’t talked even though we haven’t seen each other.”
“Right,” I said, perplexed. “So I don’t get what’s different, and why you’re so upset with me—at least I think it’s with me.”
“You’re hanging out with the most beautiful girl on campus and you didn’t bother to tell me. And you don’t think that’s a reason to get mad at you?”
I gaped at her. “I’m tutoring her. She needs to pass the advanced conversation class to graduate and she’s paying me fifteen bucks an hour to do it! I was going to surprise you—”
“I am surprised,” she snipped, cutting me off. “Are you sure that’s the only French you’re tutoring her in, and are you the only one doing the tutoring?”
I sighed, “Before you interrupted, I was going to say I wanted to surprise you with enough money for us to get away for a weekend. You’re my girlfriend. Sheila’s a paying client, and she didn’t learn anything in the class last year, so she’s got a lot of catching up to do in the next three weeks before midterms. That’s why I went out with her three times last week and couldn’t see you.”
“Does she smoke?” Polly asked. I told her that I didn’t know, and that I didn’t care. “Oh, you’ll care,” she sadly replied. Our study session became just that, and we parted without so much as a hug.
“I hope all the time you’re spending with me isn’t bothering your—girlfriend,” Sheila casually opened as we sat down in the language lab. “She is your girlfriend, right? The—” She hesitated, searching for an inoffensive adjective to describe Polly, and finally decided that she couldn’t come up with one. “—girl who smokes those little cigar thingies?” I said yes, although Polly hadn’t replied to my e-mails since our study session, and it was obvious that the time I was spending tutoring Sheila was indeed bothering my girlfriend. “I really appreciate this, Al,” Sheila resumed. “I feel a lot more confident about the midterm since you’ve been working with me.” I appreciated it, too: Sheila had paid me almost a hundred bucks in the past two weeks, although I wasn’t sure if the reason I had started this in the first place was still valid.
I finally got Polly to speak to me about a week later. There was an all-campus party coming up, and I emailed her, asking if she would be my date, telling her that there was no one else I’d rather go with, and adding one of Shakespeare’s sonnets as the signature. She agreed, but said that she would be a little late because her brother had a state semi-final earlier, and both she and her mother had committed to going.
I wandered along the row of frat houses the night of the party feeling somewhat lost and alone. Polly and I had agreed to meet by the soft drink stand closest to where she parked, which was near the group of fraternity houses, but it had been almost an hour since we were supposed to meet, and she hadn’t yet responded to any of my text messages. People in various states of drunkenness circulated around, and in some cases, through, me. My roommate was in the dorms as usual, trying to keep his 3.85 GPA from dropping to something disastrous like a 3.84, and I still didn’t know very many people on campus.
Despair was about to set in until I heard a familiar voice call, or more accurately, squeal, my name. “AL!” It was Sheila, and she was accompanied by two other girls, similarly attractive. She ran up to me and gave me a big unsteady hug and smooch on the cheek. “I aced the midterm oral! Thank you so much! I want you to meet my friends Linda and Maddie—Lyn, Maddie, this is Al, the guy who helped me ace my midterm in French. He’s a great tutor!” she bubbled, linking her arm with mine. She looked around. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
“I don’t know where she is,” I said, feeling a little—uncomfortable at her familiarity, “but I am happy that you aced your midterm. I’d hate to have to give you your money back.”
“You deserve a bonus!” she gushed. “I’m going to graduate!” We started walking towards the general area where I was supposed to meet Polly, but I saw no way to change direction or get Sheila to let go of me. After all, she was campus royalty. Her evident ease at being on my arm drew some curious looks, but nobody was going to say anything, not even the fraternity dude who regarded me jealously. “Hey, Maddie, can I have a cigarette?”
Oh no, I thought, horrified. What if I reacted to this gorgeous woman smoking the same way that I did to Polly? How embarrassing would it be to have that—somewhat obvious sign of sexual attraction make itself evident? And I couldn’t get away. Sheila let go of me and pulled a Capri 120 from the pack that Maddie produced. Both girls also took one. Oh no. In spite of the awkwardness of the situation, especially if Polly were to show up now, my brain went on autopilot and I lit all three cigarettes. “Oh! I knew you were a gentleman,” Sheila cooed, and she gave me another smooch. The three girls all looked so beautiful, so—sophisticated and carefree with the long, elegant slim cigarettes that I began to be affected in spite of my best efforts to ignore the fact that I was surrounded by three smoking angels. Sheila continued babbling about my ability as a tutor, and Lynda asked if I could tutor her in calculus and how much I charged when Sheila suddenly said, “Wait! Isn’t that your girlfriend over there?
I looked to where the end of Sheila’s Capri was pointing, and yes, it was Polly. At the same time, Sheila grabbed my arm, and I saw Polly’s face take on a definitely unpleasant expression. I’m doomed. “C’mon!” Sheila urged, pulling me along. “Polly!” she called, waving with her free arm.
Polly turned away and it appeared as if she was just going to run away, but Sheila just pulled me along faster and called her name more loudly, causing people to look. Polly was embarrassed by the attention and stopped, looking ill. “I’m so happy I finally get to meet you!” Sheila said as we caught up with her. She then unlinked my arm from hers and firmly replaced it with Polly’s. “Your boyfriend’s an awesome tutor! I aced my midterm in Conversation!” Polly didn’t seem enthused; in fact, she didn’t look happy at all, although she made no attempt to pull free of me. Sheila happily continued, “And he was the perfect gentleman which was great, because that’s what got me in trouble last year. You are such a lucky girl!” She took one of those model-like, carefree drags from the still-long Capri 120.
“I am?” Polly icily asked.
Suddenly, Sheila’s bubbling and gushing stopped and she turned serious. “Yes, you are,” she replied. “Please don’t be mad at him. Your boyfriend was tutoring me because he wanted to get you a surprise. He didn’t even look at me that way once in all the time spent together, and it was the best two hundred bucks I’ve spent.”
“Really?” Polly asked, genuinely surprised. She looked at me and I nodded, blushing.
“Yeah.” Sheila patted our linked arms. “You two go and have fun tonight.” She added, “Besides, he’s not really my type, Polly.” Sheila gave me a kiss on the cheek as she turned to leave. “No offense meant, Al?”
“None taken, Sheila,” I acknowledged. After all, it was true. I wasn’t even close to the list of people on campus that she’d consider going out with—not even once. “Tell Lynda to call me and I’ll see if I can help her with her Calculus,” I said to her accompanying backwards wave.
“A surprise, huh?” Polly asked. I nodded. “Exactly what kind of surprise?”
“Two hundred dollars will pay for two nights’ room at our place—they take cash for the deposit, I checked. I was thinking that you and I needed to have some privacy,” I said. “Even if Sheila did kinda ruin the surprise.” I paused. “Still jealous?”
“A little,” Polly answered. “I mean, she’s gorgeous, she smokes Capri 120’s, and even I think she makes it look—sexy.” Her hand brushed the front of my pants, where the after-effects of Sheila and her friends lingered. “I saw you watching her… but I guess I can’t blame you.” She looked away. “But… it’s nice to know that you didn’t make a single pass at her.” Polly shyly turned to look into my eyes, and I watched as her mouth parted just a little. I pulled her to me, and we kissed deeply, slowly, instantly ignorant of the party going on around us. She pulled away, gasping, “Oh god, I wanna fuck you!” into my ear. My cock responded instantly, surging mightily in my pants. “Do you have the money with you?” she panted.
“It’s—” I inhaled loudly as Polly fondled my rigid cock through my pants. “—back in the dorms.” Thirty minutes later, Polly was hastily pulling my pants down while I removed my shirt, once again safely ensconced in our lust nest. As soon as Polly had removed her panties, my cock began to rise. She rubbed it for a few seconds, and I surged into almost complete hardness. “I missed you so much,” I whispered, but she only lay down on the bed, her legs splayed, excitement glistening. Her face was flushed, full of hunger and need, and her nipples stood perkily atop her small breasts. Polly reached for me. We could talk later.
My entrance was accompanied by a sweet, throaty moan and my girlfriend wrapped her arms and legs around me. I began to pump at her; Polly’s eyes lost focus, her expression dissolved into a smile, and she let loose a loud, rapturous, sighed inhale, ending in a gentle “ohhhhh…” It had been a long time since I had a chance to masturbate, let alone real sex, and my thrusts became faster and harder as my cognitive thought dissolved in the overwhelming sensations. My girlfriend grunted, her hips pistoning at me until I started going too fast for her. She didn’t complain, and suddenly, I found myself driving into her as deeply as I could, her feet flashing on the very periphery of my vision. Tiny, gurgling noises forced their way out of my throat, getting louder and louder as the tingle along my cock intensified, and spreading throughout my whole body. “Hrngh-HRRRNNNHHHHHHH!” I rammed into her again, once.
“AUUUUGGGGHHHHHH!” Polly grunted, and suddenly her arms and legs were wrapped around me, tightly, yet they relaxed enough for me to thrust violently at her, invoking another burst from my white-hot cock, and then she would grab me again, wailing, only relaxing her grip as my hips forced their way up and drove back down.
I lay on my back sometime afterwards, the winking stars that had filled my vision earlier almost dissipated, my panting and gasping having returned to normal. Polly lay next to me, unmoving. “Polly?” I whispered, not wanting to wake her if she was asleep.
She purred sultrily, and rolled over to face me. “Mmmm… Ye-e-e-esss?” Her eyes were half-lidded, a signal that, despite our long separation, I easily recognized. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel like I could do anything about it.
“That was incredible,” I confessed, simultaneously apologizing, “but I don’t think I—”
She gave me an enigmatic little smile, and sat up on the side of the bed. Polly turned on the lamp, removed a More from the pack on the nightstand, lit it, and took a long, well-lit drag, allowing me to see her slow, creamy, french-inhale. She exhaled slowly, her head turned upwards, in a near-perfect echo of her mother’s style. “I’ve been practicing just for you. Did you like that?” she throatily cooed, and all I could do was to swallow and nod. After watching another couple of drags with an almost-hypnotized fascination, something happened that I had thought was impossible: my cock stirred.
Polly noticed, too, and as she took her next luxuriant drag, her free hand wrapped around my cock. As she exhaled, slowly, deliberately, my cock surged in her hand. She licked her hand and then began to stroke me in earnest, almost as slowly as she smoked. She stopped when it was time to put the cigarette out, and she did so delicately, with my now rock-hard cock still in her gentle grasp. I felt harder than I ever had in my entire life mere minutes after what I thought had been the ultimate sexual experience of my life. But my girlfriend wasn’t finished with me yet. She slid her hand to the base, leaned over, and—took my cock into her mouth without a word.
I gasped in a combination of shock and delirious pleasure at the unfamiliar—and undreamt of—sensation. Polly had never shown any interest in giving me head, and, since I had no previous experience with it, I had never asked. Her head began bobbing up and down, her hand anchoring my rigidity at its base. I moaned and thrashed at the sensation, so unlike intercourse, yet so—indescribably pleasurable. When she pulled her head away with a quiet sigh, I looked down at her, saw her tongue peek out, and she leaned forward to make gentle contact with the tip of my dick. I jerked from the intensity of the stimulation, making nonsense sounds as she played her tongue around the head, but when she flicked it across and along the underside of the rim, my hips thrust upwards, completely out of my control.
She continued to play along the rim until I started moving too much, and then engulfed me bobbing her head again in smooth, steady strokes. My hips started pumping in counter-rhythm; she pressed firmly against my pelvis with one hand and began to stroke the base of my cock with circled fingers as she continued her blowjob. I sighed, “Oh… Polly,” rapturous, on the verge of delirium, and she tightened her lips and her grip in response. My hips moving as much as she allowed, I was calling her name constantly, getting a little more hoarse with each repetition, and then suddenly every muscle in my body was taut, every nerve in my body tingled and… “Pollllllyyyyyyyy!!!!”
It started as a grunt but turned into a sigh as my release washed through my whole being, and I was only aware of Polly’s hand keeping me from trying to thrust through the back of her head, and the continuing stimulation of her soft, warm, tongue, mouth and lips. She finally pulled her head away, and there was semen around her lips, and chin. My cock pulsed again, and more cum dribbled along it, down over her hand. She gently caressed me, running her hand along my declining length, and then—she licked the cum on her hand, and swallowed! Just like I had seen a woman do in an X-rated movie, but instead of being repulsed, it struck me as incredibly erotic! My cock surged and somehow not only did I find more cum, it shot out with enough force to hit Polly in the chin. I collapsed on to the bed, drained, panting, delirious, and thrashing feebly as Polly continued to masturbate me until I was completely soft.
The next thing I remember was waking up with Polly wrapped around me, and the sun was beginning to rise, filling the room with half-light. I stirred, and woke my girlfriend, who sleepy-eyed, pressed her lips against mine, and pushed her tongue into my mouth. I kissed her back with passion and five minutes later, Polly had masturbated me to hardness again. This time, she swung her leg across my body and slid onto me. She was so wet that I had trouble staying inside her at first, but I grew and grew, and pretty soon, she had a firm grip of my hips and fucked me with determination, sliding herself along my cock. It didn’t take long for her to lose her rhythm, and her body began to quiver. She sat up straight, her eyes rolling up into her head. I pulled her to me and began to thrust as much as I could, making her squeak loudly, once, her face a picture of shock, before her muscles went slack, the consistency of jello, only regaining tension when she had melted against my body. Polly grabbed my head and kissed me with ferocious hunger.
Now, with her leaning forward, I could easily thrust at her. She froze in that position, inviting me to pump faster, panting “ohgodohyesohgodogodohhhhhhh…” until it became unintelligible nonsense. I reached around, grabbed her ass, and slammed into Polly. Her pussy fibrillated wildly around my cock and loud, squishy noises came from down there. Her fingernails dug into my shoulders and she threw her head back as her second orgasm hit her. Still hard, and still inside of her, I could only watch in lust at the sight of my orgasmic girlfriend as she continued to squirm on top of me. We started kissing again, and our bodies moved in rhythm, neither one of us in control. Polly’s eyes were either closed or unfocused as she rode me, both of us careening haphazardly along orgasm’s edge, seemingly unable to fall into the blissful abyss. All of our energies were devoted to motion, to the constant friction of our bodies so we could greedily elicit more of the sizzle that it brought. We fit each other perfectly now, her insides perfectly wrapped around me, sliding freely as a warm wetness coated my pubic region. I heard her grunt softly, and she came, a little orgasm, kissing me with even more passion and desire. Still, we continued to fuck, urgent, yet without frenzy, physical, yet tender, our bodies refusing to let go of the shared eternity of ecstasy.
When the end came, it took me by surprise as one moment I was thrusting at her, the next, I was sighing her name, trying to push myself through her as my body froze. She grabbed me fiercely, and shuddered at the hips, going extremely red in the face and chest, eyes rolling, mouth open without sound until she began squeaking softly, repeatedly, finally dissolving onto me once again. We kissed passionately for what seemed like hours and then Polly finally slid off my softening penis. It was covered in white goo, hers and mine. We hung on to each other, our need, desire, and hunger sated, our inner beasts tamed for the moment.
We didn’t have time to talk about the explosive lust that had consumed us because check out time at the love nest barely gave us enough time to clean up. It was a silent ride back to the dorms because words seemed superfluous and incapable of expressing our feelings. Polly took every red light as an opportunity to hold hands, kissing me deeply at one particularly long one, and drawing irate honks from the cars behind us when it changed. She dropped me off after several minutes of necking that did not inspire any lustful thoughts; even if it had, we weren’t in any shape to do anything about it anyway.
We finally had a chance to talk about it in my dorm room a couple of days later. My nerdy roommate had a study group meeting for a semester project somewhere off-campus. He grumbled about the waste of his time in getting to and from the meeting, and couldn’t understand why his group didn’t want to meet in our room. I texted Polly as soon as I found out, and we both cut our final class of the day, planning to meet at the campus commons.
When Polly arrived, I was chatting socially with Sheila, who happened to be with one of her sorority sisters. I recognized the girl as being from my dorm. She had always given me that icy, condescending, haughty look whenever our paths crossed. She seemed confused that the president of her sorority would acknowledge my existence, let alone stop to chat. When Polly and Sheila warmly greeted each other, the poor girl looked absolutely dumbfounded. Sheila smiled at us as I put my arm around my girlfriend, and happily said, “We gotta get going to a sorority council meeting. See you guys around!”
Polly and I softly laughed over the other girl’s obvious confusion at Sheila’s friendliness as we walked towards my dorm. “Y’know,” she said, “I really thought all sorority grills were like that. In fact, I thought Sheila was like that. Y’know, the way she looked at you in class last year n’all.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “although I gotta admit that I’m shocked she still treats me like a human being. She doesn’t need me to tutor her any more, and I’m not tutoring anybody else in the sorority.”
“Maybe she thinks it’s just romantic the way we are,” Polly offered. “I know I do.”
Alone in my dorm room, Polly and I began to neck for a little while. Given that the concept of having sex in the middle of people who I saw every day bothered me, and that Polly also felt weird about having sex in a dorm room where the people around us weren’t complete strangers, was enough to keep us from getting too eager. I finally screwed up the courage to ask her about the previous Saturday.
“Well,” she began, “I kept reading those books, and I got a few—ideas. Then I started getting worried about you and Sheila, and so I started to—ummm—practice—stuff—that I thought you’d like.” I gave her a funny look. “Well, I wanted to show you how much better a girlfriend I could be,” Polly confessed. “I mean, I already knew some of the things you liked—ummm—sexually.”
“Do you know,” I interrupted, “that that was the first—blowjob—I’ve ever had?”
“It was the first time I’ve ever done it. Did I do it right?”
She was genuinely concerned. I almost laughed out loud at the thought that anything had been bad about it, and then I stopped, realizing that she might have thought it was just a reflex. “Polly… it was beyond incredible. And then you—you—you—” I began to get hard as a flash of her, my cum around her mouth and over her hand and…
“Well,” Polly throatily said, “It seemed like a really big deal to guys if a girl did that.” her answer stopped my X-rated reverie long enough for me to ask what gave her that idea. “Oh, I raided my brother’s internet porn from his laptop,” she casually admitted, breaking into a grin. “I threatened to tell Mom if he didn’t give me a copy.” I gaped at her. “It just seemed like all those movies the guy really loved it when the girl like—swallowed, or licked it off…” Her face showed sudden understanding. “…Or was it just for the movies?”
“I don’t know,” I quickly replied, as I saw her face begin to fall, “but I loved it. It was awesome! Incredible! ” She perked up at that. “ I mean, the whole thing—the whole night—everything—was just so—intense—” I was having trouble describing the magnitude of everything that had happened, but my body was remembering very clearly. And I very quickly realized that so was hers.
We were sitting on my bed, necking, her shirt open, bra unfastened, my pants open, and my hands working on undoing her jeans. Both of us quietly panting, aware of the world around us, making our actions tentative, but pursuing our course nonetheless... to a certain point. Polly gently, but firmly stopped me when I tried to take her pants completely off. Instead, she placed my hand between her legs, and spread them wider, before grabbing my face and attacking my mouth with renewed vigor. One hand wandered along my body, coming to rest in my lap briefly before finding its way around my penis. I rubbed, unsure if what I was doing felt as good to her as what she was doing to me.
I needn’t have worried. Soon enough we were both slowly humping upwards, masturbating each other without urgency, kissing constantly except when we had to come up for air. I felt the tingle begin, but Polly froze for an instant, and she kissed me even harder wrapping her free hand around my neck while her hips pumped and my hand began to get very wet. “Ohhhhh…” she dreamily exhaled, still pumping at my hand. Both of us had forgotten about my cock, me intent on granting her pleasure, she equally so to receive it. Suddenly, her body relaxed, and she broke our kiss, pulling away, her eyes half-closed. She resumed her gentle masturbation immediately, and I surged in her palm. Polly leaned to me again, kissing me sweetly and gently. The tingle erupted into a full-fledged burn and I was coating her hand again, moans muffled by her sweet mouth. Giving me a lewd look, inviting me to watch, she took her cum-coated fingers, and very deliberately licked my cream off them. Too drained to do otherwise, I gave her a crazed, hungry kiss, tasting myself for the first time ever on her lips. “How many more nights do we have?” Polly asked, slightly out-of-breath.
I was so stoned that it took me a moment to comprehend the question. “One,” I regretfully replied. “I don’t have enough for the deposit and the room beyond that.”
“I’ll talk to my Mom,” she said. “Maybe I can get her to help.”
I had Thanksgiving dinner at the Collier’s, spending most of the day there. I had a surprise afterwards for Polly, however. My nerdy roommate had gone home for the break, as well as my most immediate neighbors. We began to masturbate each other as we had before, but this time, I was more insistent about getting into her pants with more than just my hand. As we kissed, her hand fenced with mine, but she never protested, her efforts at resistance becoming more and more token, until finally, she broke our kiss long enough to gasp, “Oh, fuck it,” and to take all of her clothes off. That night, we discovered the joys of slow, quiet sex, because although there were considerably fewer people in the dorms, they weren’t empty.
On Saturday, Polly and I went out to dinner. Well aware of my fetish, and not beyond taking advantage of it, we ate in the bar section so that she could smoke. Since she couldn’t smoke in the dorms, she lingered over her soda so that she could have two after-dinner cigarettes, inviting me to watch her, and I did, watching in fascination and growing lust with each drag she took. We kissed passionately in the parking lot, both before and after we got into her car, necked in the dorm parking lot, and, giggling, Polly purposefully rubbed the outside of my pants as we rode the elevator. As soon as we turned the corner down the hallway, the muffled sounds coming from a couple of different rooms were very familiar. “Sounds like we won’t be the only ones,” panted my girlfriend, nibbling on my ear. “Let’s go for it.”
The dorm formal was the following week. Polly arrived to pick me up just a few minutes before the event was supposed to start. “Sorry,” she apologized. “Mom got stranded on a business trip overnight due to heavy fog, and so I had to find somebody for Steven to stay with, and then I had to take him to school for his game—” She paused, having realized that I was waiting for a kiss. “—But the good news is that Mom’s apology is to let me use the credit card,” she brightly resumed after a long, deep kiss. “Are you ready?”
The first surprise of the night was our seating assignment. We were at one of the more prestigious tables, and we wondered why until we saw Sheila and her date at the same table. “Polly! Al! I’m happy to see you!” she bubbled. “Come sit with us!” We looked at each other strangely, as did the other couples at the table. The campus queen sure seemed to be taking an interest in us. But it was our assigned table, so we sat, with Sheila and the two other girls, and their dates, who seemed to be more interested in taking not-too-discreet swigs from the flasks they all carried than in the girls they were with It was somewhat awkward, so Polly and I chose to dance a lot to avoid it.
We returned to our table when the band went on their break just in time to hear Sheila announce that she was going to the lounge. The other girls stood up with her, the guys mumbled something that I couldn’t hear, and then Sheila turned to us. “Al? Polly? Are you going to join us?” Everyone else looked at us as if we had three heads.
Polly said, “Sure,” in a tone of voice that said she wasn’t, and I went along to be with my date. Besides, the other guys at the table didn’t look very interesting. So there I was, in the lounge with Polly, a sorority president, and two of her ladies-in-waiting. Neither Polly nor I knew what exactly was going on, and I wondered if this was the prelude to some sort of cruel joke.
“Do you guys want a drink from the bar?” Sheila asked. “My treat.” Still being underage, we asked for virgin cocktails. The other girls at the table looked at us funny, but we didn’t change our request. When she returned, we all crowded around a table built for four. Sheila was on one side of me, Polly the other. I figured whatever was going to happen would be happening soon. “This is Al,” Sheila said pulling me to her for a hug. “He’s my French tutor.” The other girls reacted with appropriately faked interest. “And his girlfriend, Polly. He tutored me so he could get her a present. Isn’t that romantic?” The interest level lost a little bit of its falseness. She turned to Polly and said, with surprising sincerity, “You are such a lucky girl to have such a romantic and attentive boyfriend. I wish those guys would have paid more attention to the way he treats you.” The other girls nodded while both Polly and I blushed. “That’s why I invited you to sit at our table tonight,” Sheila confessed. “I guess I was hoping they’d notice.”
She removed a pack of Capri 120’s menthol from her purse, and the other two girls removed their cigarettes as well. Polly pulled out her case, and suddenly, she was the center of attention at the table. “Oh, that’s so classy!” was one comment, and she was asked where she had gotten it from. My girlfriend, although not used to such celebrity, especially not in such company, lost her nervousness. She opened it, and explained that it was a made for her extra-long cigarettes, and suddenly, she, her long, brown cigarettes, and her case were the talk of the table. I lit Polly’s More, and one of the other girls asked if it was a cigar, commenting that she’d never seen anything like it before. Sheila asked for one, and the other girls followed suit.
So there I was, surrounded by four women smoking Mores. I just tried to be as unobtrusive as I could, getting hornier by the second, hoping to keep the obvious sign of my interest under the table. The girls were very chatty, including Polly in their discussion. Polly taught them how to french-inhale, and although Polly was the only one to smoke a second More, I was still surrounded by four beautiful smokers. Between Polly’s More and Sheila’s Capri 120, I was rock-hard underneath the table, but seemed to have been forgotten. Sheila and her friends stood to go back to their dates, but Polly said that she wanted to finish her cocktail and that we would catch up.
“Imagine sorority girls calling me lucky!” she bubbled after we were alone. Polly put her hand on my lap, and felt my erection, which had diminished only slightly, underneath the table. “Ohhh… that’s right,” she smiled, teasing, “Is that for me or them?” I told her she knew the answer. “Then I’d better finish this drink, and we can say our goodbyes,” she purred, her eyes sparkling.
The best-laid plans often go awry, and tonight was no exception. There were no vacancies at our love nest. There we were, credit card at the ready and they had nowhere to put us. Polly dismissed her frustration with, “Let’s go to my place. After all, Steve’s at a friend’s until tomorrow, and my mom’s probably still in Paris trying to get out, and I want to fuck you—soon.”
Fifteen minutes later, we opened the door to her house. It was dark, but noises were coming from the dining room let us know that we weren’t alone. “Mom?” Polly cautiously called, as we quietly headed for the room, and were speechless at what we saw. Mrs. Collier was lying naked in one of the chairs, her legs splayed, writhing in obvious passion. There was a black man on his knees in front of her, his head buried between her legs, her hands gently guiding his efforts. Polly and I were too shocked even to gasp. “Ohhh… Claude,” moaned Polly’s mom, in a throaty French accent, and my cock grew. The black guy was obviously taking a great deal of care and pleasure at licking and using his fingers on Mrs. Collier, who was now humping energetically and making soft, orgasmic cries. I could see the same type of flush on her body that Polly had when we made love. So that’s what cunnilingus is supposed to do, was my first immediate thought. I snuck a peek at Polly, whose mouth was open in shock, and body frozen. “Ohhh... je veux... je veux… te… baiser,” Mrs. Collier sighed, and she opened her eyes. I got scared; but we weren’t in her direct line of sight, and it was apparent that she really wasn’t seeing anything. Claude lazily stopped his oral and manual attentions, positioned himself, and slid into Polly’s mom, who sucked in air and smiled at him as his penis vanished inside of her. I don’t know how long we watched them, but Polly pulled roughly on my arm, signaling that she’d certainly seen enough. Since we had made no noise, Mrs. Collier and Claude continued to be completely engrossed in their own lovemaking, and Polly and I managed to leave undetected. My cock was painfully rigid. In retreating, I could hear Polly’s mom yelping, “Oh, Claude… Ohhh, Claude… Bai-se-moi! OHHHH… CLAUDE!”
I didn’t know what the effect of this on Polly would be. She headed upstairs to her room without a word or sideways glance at me. I had been fascinated and turned on, but then again, Mrs. Collier was hot, and more to the point, she wasn’t my mother. Once we were alone, I began, “Polly…” intending to apologize.
My girlfriend turned around, hastily removed her dress, and commanded, “I want you to do that to me. Now.” She fell back on the bed with her legs spread, and pulled my head to her muff as I joined her there. This time, having seen it done well in real life and so with a bigger clue than I could get from any porno movie or book, I began to give Polly good head. My licking was much less tentative, and although I was afraid of hurting her with my hand, she began to hump and cry and gasp, and suddenly, my index and middle finger slipped inside of her. “Awww yeaaahhhhhhhh…” she happily sighed, and moved my head towards her clit. It wasn’t long before Polly was howling, “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”—very loudly, and her hips were rolling crazily, making it difficult for me to keep my place, but somehow I did. She collapsed to the bed with a loud huff. I didn’t know if I should stop or not, so I kept licking and gently pumping my fingers inside of her. Every time my tongue made direct contact with her clit, she grunted, “UH!” and her hips would shoot towards the ceiling.
I had to stop because my cock started to ache, having been trapped in my underpants and underneath my body, and my nuts were complaining. “NOOOOO!” cried my girlfriend, and she hungrily reached for me. My face was covered in her juices, and it stung my eyes, but I didn’t care; the only thing that mattered was freeing my cock. “Put it in!” she eagerly sighed as it pointed straight at her, and after a moment of frenzied probing, we were joined. She was slicker, wetter and warmer than I’d ever felt, and our intercourse quickly filled the room with panting, gasping, and moans of passion accompanied by loud squishing sounds from between us. Polly rammed her tongue into my mouth, pulling me to her with an amazing strength, her hips thrusting at me, her legs spread wide and following in time. She grabbed my hips, urging me deeper, and to thrust more forcefully. This was the polar opposite of our dormitory sex; it was not soft and slow and quiet, but hard, fast and loud.
She came twice as we frantically fucked, her pussy slurping, soaking my groin, and finally, I could take no more stimulation of all my senses. “GRRRRRNNNNNGGGHHHHHHHHHH!” I half-screamed, half-growled, shooting the first volley of cum into her.
“AAAAAWWWOOOOOOOO!” Polly howled, throwing her head back in yet another orgasm, her pussy grabbing me so tightly that I could not move, and then suddenly releasing me. My hips instinctively pistoned at her, and completely sank inside of her, and I shot deep inside her again. “HUHHHHHH!” was her response, and she grabbed me with her arms, greedily pulling at my ass…
I realized that we had separated, and that some time had passed. I leaned onto my elbow, seeing the enormous wet spot on the sheets between Polly’s legs. Her pussy was still a mess, and there was something erotic about that, which made my cock twitch feebly. She purred, and pulled me down to snuggle against her naked, sweaty body. I fell asleep almost instantly.
Polly gently shook me awake the next morning, and then proceeded to kiss me tenderly until I was fully awake—and erect. “C’mon, let’s shower and go downstairs,” she suggested, before I could ask her about last night. We kissed a lot in the shower and fondled each other, but it was clear that my girlfriend wasn’t looking to initiate more sex, as she never let me penetrate her, or fondled my cock directly. I grumbled a little about that, but she just smiled brightly, so I changed into the post-formal clothes I had brought with me and we headed downstairs.
We entered the kitchen to see Claude at the stove cooking something, and Mrs. Collier sitting at the island with a cup of coffee. Polly announced our entry with, “Bonjour, Maman; Claude,” and after greeting her mother, she also kissed him on both cheeks in the traditional French way. She waved at me to come over and as he extended his hand, she said, “Claude, j’aimerais te présenter mon petit ami, Albert. Il parle français très fort aussi. Albert, c’est Claude, un ami de ma mère.” We shook hands, although I was a little confused at the easy familiarity given what we had seen last night.
“J’en suis ravi,” Claude smiled, “Polly parle beaucoup de vous.”
“Tutoie-moi,” I responded, trying to make myself feel as casual as I managed to sound. “C’est une plaisir de faire votre connaissance.”
“I thought you were stranded in Paris until Sunday?” Polly asked, sitting at the island next to her mother. She pulled a More from the pack between them.
Her mother took one of her own, put it into a cigarette holder, and lit both cigarettes. “Yes, well…” Mrs. Collier lifted her chin and sent a long, silent stream of smoke towards the ceiling. The cigarette holder had a physical impact on me, but neither Polly nor her mother seemed to notice. If I had found Mrs. Collier sexy before, now she was white-hot. “… The company pulled some strings and rebooked the transatlantic portion on Air France to get everybody home. Claude happened to be on the same flight.” Polly nodded, and then french-inhaled her next drag, half-recapturing my attention. “I didn’t expect to see you this early.”
Polly slowly exhaled, in an almost-identical echo of her mother’s glamorous style. “We wound up coming—here—after the formal. It was kind of a weird night.” I watched her french inhale again while her mother was exchanging a quick glance with Claude, who looked at me first, then quickly at Polly. Suddenly, everybody blushed, realizing that we all had had an expectation of privacy that had not existed, and that each couple had either heard or seen each other last night during fantastic sex.
Polly’s mother cleared her throat, and gave her daughter a funny look, but didn’t otherwise comment. The conversation immediately turned very social and superficial, with Claude and I ostensibly getting to know each other better over breakfast. After the women finished their post-meal cigarettes, Claude and I were sent to the living room while they cleaned the kitchen. Very softly, and in French, he opened, “You like to watch women who smoke, right?” Shocked by his accurate pronouncement of what I had thought was a well-hidden secret between Polly and me, I dumbly nodded in confirmation before I could think to deny it. “Me too,” he grinned, even more softly, “and the Collier women do it very well, don’t they?”
A whole mixture of feelings shot through me in an instant, and my embarrassment faded as I suddenly realized that I was not the only one who found smoking sexy. “In France, when a young woman smokes,” continued Claude, “it’s often a—manifestation of their sexuality, their sensuality. Therefore, it’s important that they smoke with style, in a way that exudes beauty and grace. Our friends are—” He took a deep breath. “—incredible in every way when it comes to that, even if they aren’t really aware of it.” He furtively looked around and then resumed, “If it’s something you like to see, you can—gently—persuade Polly to do it.” The ladies came out of the kitchen, and Claude whispered, “Think about it. it could truly be spectacular for the both of you.”
Polly and I went upstairs and talked about last night’s events. “Claude is my mom’s new boyfriend. He’s from Paris, and they met at a business conference. She really likes him,” she stated. I asked about—catching them, which drew a slightly-bored sigh from her. “Not the first time I’ve caught them like that.” Her candor shocked me. I knew that catching my parents would freak me out, so I guessed that it was that European attitude thing. “Oh, yeah, the first time was kinda gross,” she said, correctly interpreting my expression. “But my mom is sorta…” She searched for the right word. “Modern—about stuff like that. The worst part was talking about it with her later,” said Polly, making a face. “But since I’ve met you, she’s kinda been almost like a big sister when it comes to sexual stuff—especially how to make it feel good.” Polly lit a More and performed a showy, slow french-inhale.
“Your mother and Claude are down the hall!” I urgently hissed in response to her narrowed eyes and unhurried, raised-chin exhale. She was trying to start something—and succeeding. I was starting to get hard.
“So?” Polly challenged, french-inhaling and putting on another show for me. “They’re probably doing the same thing we are,” she finished with a lewd purr. Her free hand reached for my zipper and the bulge forming beneath it. She dragged one more time, and the only sounds in the room were of heavy breathing, and a zipper being pulled. My girlfriend exhaled, leaned to my lap, and everything else was instantly rendered trivial. This European attitude thing was pretty cool.
I lay in my bed that night, exhausted, sated, happy—and frightened. I wondered about the source of Polly’s hold over me and my sexual response. Not that I’d had any complaints about it last night and this afternoon, but still… she seemed to be able to make herself sexy enough to me that I’d forget about rational restraint. I wasn’t sure that I liked being that out-of-control. On the other hand, Polly was definitely a one-guy gal, if somewhat of a nymphomaniac. I lay on the bed awake while my roommate slept, pondering everything I had learned this semester.
It had begun with the very big worry that my girlfriend had found someone else over the summer, and would no longer be interested in me. I had discovered that not all sorority girls were stupid, shallow, and snobby, and that there was a place for college men who were romantic instead of testosterone (or just plain) drunk. Sheila had allowed me to realize the depth of my feelings for Polly, and moreover, she didn’t think I was strange for it. Finally, I realized that I had an—unusual—sexual “on” switch, that my girlfriend took advantage of with a great deal of shared joy. Right now, it was a lot of fun. I fell asleep before I could think that there could be a dark side to that, and that it could lead me down a road that I eventually would not want to travel.