Title: How I Became Unshy 
Author: Sara 
Keywords: Mf Ff ff FFm college



"You're so shy."

"Am I too shy?"

"No.  You're perfect."

You are my first lover.  You seduced me in long talks after
class, in your office or walking through the deep pine woods
between the parking lot and the science building.  Your kindness
and wit and attentiveness, so unlike that of the boys at the
University, seemed like a drug to me, and I am practically a
slave to the way you make me feel.  In class I am wet watching
you teach us.  I want to be in your apartment, your spicy
masculine smell around us.

You have warned me to be discrete, but I feel panic if I don't
see you coming down the hall towards your office as I wait there.
 Some days you don't come find me at all, and I weep in my room.
But the next day I wake and with trembling hands, put on the
clothes I know will please you.

Your hands are in my hair, and I am in ecstasy.  You kiss my neck
as we lie in your bed.  My skirt and blouse are on your wooden
floor where Sherlock, your dog, lies in sullen resignation: no
walk until master has fucked Catelyn.

I come so easily for you.  It was always difficult masturbating.
Now, hours on hours of waiting, eagerness, expectation are like
your fingers all day long slipping up my legs, caressing my
delicate nipples, into my pussy.  I need you.  I love to watch
you come, your eyes wide and glazed, but looking back to me, more
open than a man has ever been with me as you fill me.

You are fucking me, and your words are like warm water holding me
up.

"You're very shy, though.  You shouldn't be.  My Catelyn."

Call me yours again, I think, but I don't say anything.  I am
afraid to move.

"Put your hands in my hair, if you want," you whisper.  How did
you know I wanted it?  I didn't know myself.  I do it.

You are coming soon.  My ass is sore from where you spanked me
for being shy.



Elizabeth teases me about you.

"My roommate, the shy girl," she says bluntly, tucking a corn
chip into her mouth, "is fucking the Chem prof."

I feel myself blushing.  It's no good.  I can't hide things.
"No," I tell her lamely, and words fail like a broken-winged
bird.

She sighs, serious.  "I bet you suck him."

I fold my arms over my knees and hide my face.  I am crying,
blushing, my skin hot.  I do suck you.  I love to suck you.

"Has he fucked your ass yet?"

I look up.  I can't control the blushing.  "No," I tell her
firmly.  "He hasn't."  I am lying.

"He will," she says confidently.  She sighs again.  "Cate.  He's
a user.  He's sweet.  But still."

I know.  And I am thinking of you using me this afternoon, how
you came on my face, upturned to your cock in adoration.  How wet
this makes me.  But I am still ashamed.

"Cate," she tells me.  "You can't go on like this.  You worship
the guy.  He's hot and everything, but you're not yourself.
You're his semester fling or something.  You've got to be in
control.  You can't be this way."

Her voice is strangely urgent.  I watch as she runs her fingers
through her long auburn hair.  Her blue eyes are piercing me.
Absurdly I am thinking of something else, and wondering whether I
can borrow her plaid skirt tomorrow.  You would like it on me,
might fuck me in your office, bent over your desk...

"... think about it, okay?"

I promise I will.


That night I listen to the familiar sound of my roommate
Elizabeth as she cries softly, and the bed creaks just a little,
and when she comes I smile to myself.


It is almost the end of November now.  Your semen is still warm
in my mouth.  My class's latest quiz lies in a big stack on your
desk at your apartment, a few with red scribbles.  I'd know your
handwriting anywhere.

I have done as I promised and thought about us.  I worship you as
much as ever.  But I listen every night to Elizabeth weeping and
masturbating, and she tells me I must stand up for myself.

"Andrew," I begin.

"Mmm?" you hum, lying back with your eyes closed, fingers gently
stroking my hair.

I am not sure what I am saying. Where are the words coming from?

I see her auburn hair falling over her eyes.  She is smiling. She
nods.  I can only see her face in my imagination.  She is calm
and collected.

"I can't stay with you, Andrew.  It's time I..."  The sentence
hangs there.

You are looking at me.  Your kind eyes are intense, searching.

You don't say anything.  I feel all the emotions of my worship,
my need for you.  I am afraid of what I have done.

"Get out," you tell me coldly.

I go, and as I do, absurdly, I bend down and I pet Sherlock on
the head.

It is two weeks before I can make it to your class.  Elizabeth
sleeps in my bed and holds me as I shake with sobs, a fool
playing out the fool's drama.  I cling to her like a child.  On
the second night she took off her night-shirt, and I lay against
her bare breast, and my tears wet her flat stomach and her bare
legs tangled with mine.

By the end of the week, she was kissing away my tears.

And that Friday night, she had kissed me, warm and soft, the best
kiss I ever had.

The Monday afterwards I tasted her pussy for the first time.

Now I am standing outside your classroom door.  I am calm and as
I walk in I feel your eyes on me, my body and spirit conditioned
in the fire of my worship, cleansed by my roommate's kisses all
over my body.

You make to brazen all this out, here in front of the class.

"Ms. Flynn?"

I look up, raise an eyebrow, but that's all.

"You've missed two weeks."

I nod expectantly.

I can see you struggling.  Your eyes are on me, and somehow I
know that you have also felt my absence as this ghost.  For an
instant I teeter on the brink of falling again, head over
ankle-bracelet for you.  But I can still taste Elizabeth's kiss
from this morning.  Her scent is still on my tongue, and my pussy
is still humming from the kiss she gave my labia this morning.

"See me after class," you end, a little lamely.

Class is exhilarating.  You stumble and mutter, you are
distracted.  Most of all you are trying damned hard not to look
at me.

The other sophomores clear out, happy to be released from your
bungled discussion of kinetics.  Ah, well.  I read the chapter. I
know what you meant.  You told me in September when you were
seducing me, you really did like my mind.  I believe you did.
Somewhere, you lost your way.

We stand looking at one another.

You start to speak, and you stop.

"Catelyn, I..."  You move towards me as though to kiss me.

I smile and back away, and I feel invincible.

You stare at me, lost.

The memory of Elizabeth is winking at me.  But there's something
so forlorn in your eyes.

"Andrew," I almost laugh.  "You've fallen in love."

You pause.  Then you nod.

I don't know why I do it, but I do.  I gather a handful of my
long black skirt and raise it to my knees.  The classroom is not
at all private.  I know, though, that if we are found, it is you
who will suffer.

"I'm sorry, Andrew," I tell you, truthfully.  "It's difficult, I
know."  A noise at the door, and you look guilty, alarmed,
ashamed.

It's Elizabeth.  She is beautiful, isn't she?  Auburn hair pulled
back, her legs long and slender, her eyes bright and strong with
love.  She is sexy, young, determined.

She comes to me and she kisses me on the lips.  She nods at you.
"Professor," she says in greeting.  For an instant I imagine you
on your hands and knees, Elizabeth behind you, fucking your ass
with a strap on.  I almost laugh again.  I pull Elizabeth to me
and hold her against me. You haven't moved.  I whisper to her,
but I know you can hear.

"I want you to fuck me while he watches."

Elizabeth moans.  Her thighs are tight against mine.

"I want you to fuck his ass," I whisper to her, and I am looking
into her blue eyes.

She is trembling with desire.

"Or rather," I tell her as I kiss her earlobe, turn and fix my
eyes on you, and smile at you, "I want to fuck his ass while you
watch, my lover."

Elizabeth's body shakes in orgasm, and she kisses me fiercely on
my lips, my neck, my ears.  I am looking past her at you.

You look as though you have been whipped.

You will be.

Soon.



  
How I Became Unshy