No Strings Attached
(M/F, Cons, Oral, Mast)
A vignette by the Eternal Student
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A college student finds a classified ad for an anonymous encounter, and follows a fantasy further than he ever expected.

....

	This story contains descriptions of college aged (18+) people engaging in consensual sexual (and romantic) activities, so if that sort of thing offends you, you'd be best to stop reading and start again elsewhere.  Also, if you're under 18 or if the reading of such stories is illegal in your area, you probably shouldn't be reading this story either.

	All characters in this story are purely fictional, and all names are not intended to be based on any person, living or dead.  In addition, the author takes no responsibility for emotional trauma caused by bad laundry puns.

	If you enjoy this story, please e-mail me at anothereternalstudent@gmail.com with suggestions, comments, constructive criticism or just thank you's.  The only pay I get for writing is feedback from readers, so anything is appreciated.

	This story may be freely distributed in its entirety (with author information) so long as it is always available for free and not used in any for-fee websites.  Please include the full text if you choose to redistribute it.

   Most of all, enjoy the story!

For other works (and additional chapters of this one) go to:
http://www.asstr.org/~EternalStudent/

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	 I don't know why, but whether I'm horny, satisfied, single, or seeing somebody, I've always found those short little ads in the "Casual Encounters" section on my local classified site fascinating.   It seems like you can find anything there, people from all walks of life, with all sorts of different attitudes, and no end of different requests, needs, wants and desires.  I'd never gone any further than just clicking idly through, and really, I never intended to go any further.   Sometimes, though, the abyss looks deeper into you than you expect.

	I sat in bed, laptop in my lap, surfing quietly through the internet.  The semester had just ended, but the responsibilities of summer hadn't quite set in, so I was left with more time than obligation, and little on my plate for the day.  Having already surfed my normal inventory of pages to check several times, I navigated over to the local classifieds, right into "Casual Encounters".   I was single and I'd been in a dry spell for the better part of three months, but I'd never considered looking online, except for amusement and a good sociological case study.  I guess I've just always been too much of a romantic, and perhaps a bit too cautious, having heard horror stories enough.  But, there's never harm in window shopping.

	With a wry grin, I clicked into "Women for Men" and started to skim.  The usual archetypes jumped out at me almost immediately.  As always, right towards the top, a commitment-phobe, probably using a fake name, wanting to meet at an airport bar for some fun ("NO strings!!").  Below that, a call-girl trying to blend in ("I'm only in town for a couple of days, and I'd love to spend some time with YOU.")  Further down the page, a few damaged goods ads ("single mom tired of dating"), a few cheaters ("discretion a MUST") and a no shortage of women who don't seem to understand that even if Mr. Right exists and is desperately searching for a 36 year old divorcee, he won't be reading this board.   Then, you get the girls whose ads read like Penthouse forum letters, the self-described "nymphos", ready to meet anybody, anywhere, just because they "need cock".  Oddly enough, they seldom say anything about "clean" or "condoms", which makes it easy enough for my brain to convince my cock of how bad an idea that would be.
	
	Occasionally, you'll stumble upon something different mixed in with the vast sea of ads posted by nameless and faceless stereotypes and disorders.  These are the ads that don't look like they've been posted five times this week, where just enough personality, maybe even thought, shows through to intrigue you.   These are the posts where a single read tells you everything you need to know about the poster.  Sometimes, it tells you that you're only an email away from a lifetime supply of crazy.  Sometimes, it paints a sad picture, a girl who thinks nobody could want her in a relationship, and has turned to a classified site to fulfill her need for relationships three hours at a time.  Sometimes, though, you simply don't understand why such an ad would ever be written, what could make a person want what they're asking for.  The ad is a mystery, the tip of an iceberg of personality peering out of the water, challenging you to guess what's floating under the surface.  That's what got me to click the link, to write the email, and to arrange the meeting that I never thought I'd make.  

	The headline itself was unremarkable.  "cute college girl for NSA oral or facial (near campus)".  I glanced over it at first, but then scrolled back up.  I was near campus, and well, most girls don't come out and ask for a facial or oral.  Usually, they're doing their best to avoid either.  So, I clicked.  
   
	"hi.  i've never posted on here before, but i'm really horny and i want to suck a guy off, maybe make him cum on my face.  no strings, you can watch porn while i do, lights off if you want, i just want 2 taste you cum, then you can leave.  i'm 19, no old guys.  come to my place right close 2 campus, or i can walk if youre close"

	I sat back and thought about it.  She doesn't want sex, doesn't want a relationship, and wasn't asking for the guy to do anything in return.  Hell, her "lights off" comment made it sound like she didn't even want to be noticed while she did it.  What was in it for her?   I looked at the post time.  Only 20 minutes ago.  Her puzzle and her motivation, both intrigued me.   Almost without thinking, I clicked the "reply" link and started composing a message.

	"Hi", I began typing, tentatively, a slight quiver of nervousness through my stomach as my rational mind thought about the risk.   "I saw your ad, and am wondering if you've already found somebody.  I'm not far from you.  I'm 21."  My rational mind laughing quietly at the absurdity of the whole situation,  I tipped my hat to my sense of safety.   "PS:", I appended, "Are you clean?"

	I hit send, with a slight chuckle as well as a fluttering in my stomach.  I figured I'd never hear back from her again, and just counted my sending a reply as an interesting experience.  So, I went back to examining some of the older ads.  After a few more divorcees, a few more single moms, one, very lonely sounding woman looking for a nice, gentle man with genital warts, I gave up and went to take a shower.  

	When I returned, I noticed a new message in my inbox.

	Sender: Aries2345@freemail.web
	Subject: re: classified ad
	
	Body:	hi! 
			yeah, youre the first person to respond who isnt like, 50.  do you want 2 come over?  its early, but im already pretty horny.  also, i got tested after my last bf.   1340 blake st. #2

			<3 katy

	My stomach lurched.  Three blocks away from me, down 13th Street.  I felt myself instinctively harden as I sat there, wearing just a towel at my desk.  Risky, crazy, and mysterious be damned, I was, at least in theory, fifteen minutes away from a blow job from what sounded like a real life girl.   My rational mind piped back in.  "There's no such thing as "no strings attached", you're just asking for crazy or an STD".  I nodded, almost subconsciously, and shut the screen of my laptop.  

	I distracted myself by getting dressed, but all the while, my mind was at war.  I slid on a pair of black boxers.  My body ached to feel a woman's lips wrapped around me, and didn't care about the risk, the crazy, or anything else.  Then, a pair of jeans.   My mind was intrigued, curious to meet a girl who would put something like that out into the world.  A simple t-shirt.  But the tension in my gut reminded me of the risk, of the danger, and played a thousand worst case scenarios in my head.  I slipped my phone, keys and wallet into my pocket.  

	I stood in the living room of my apartment, glancing furtively at the door.  I looked down at the pad next to my phone.  "That's what I needed to do," I thought, with an overblown sense of revelation.  "I need to go get bread."  Nodding my head, I took the top sheet of the pad with me, with only the word "bread" written on the first line, and pushed it into my back pocket.  Then, I walked outside, and locked the door behind me.

	I started down towards the convenience store, along 13th street.  My eyes glanced from house to house as I walked.  Danforth Street.   A few hundred more feet, a few more smallish, student-rented houses.  Carolina street.  My heart rate quickened with each step.  Blake Street.   My eyes darted furtively around, as if to try and find her house without my mind noticing.  Then, there it was, right on the corner.  1340 blake street.  The first floor door, labeled 2.  The tingling in my loins grew stronger still, desperately wanting the attentions of anybody, but at the same time, my stomach tightened further.  "Too risky," I told myself sternly, with another subconscious nod for emphasis.  Another sigh.  I pulled my head back away from the house, and kept walking, stealing glances into windows on the house as I passed.   Then, after what seemed like an eternity, I left the house behind.  A fence of lilac bushes sprung up, blocking my view, causing a sigh, then a momentary lessening of the tension.

	I walked a block further, never noticing a single step, and I ducked into the little grocery, no bigger than a gas station.  I smiled distractedly at the young college girl behind the counter, and moved over to the little shelf of bread.  I glanced at the different options, and, turning away and grabbing almost blindly, I picked a loaf.  Setting the loaf down on the counter, I handed the girl at the register a five and pulled out my cell phone, glancing at my email.    
	"Nice day," she said.  "Town's so quiet in the summer with everybody gone".  
	Without even looking up, I shrugged.  "Not everybody."
	She glanced curiously at me, as if to ask why I wasn't following the script.	I shook my head quickly, as if to clear the clouds around my head.  "I mean, yeah, it's really nice.  More people should stick around."
	She smiled, a bit awkwardly, and handed me my change and loaf of bread.  "Have a good day."
	I nodded back in her direction, making a small grunt, interpretable only from the context of conversation.  Here, I think it meant "you too."  Then, I left.  

	Back on the street, I started walking towards home.  I walked down the sidewalk, silently, one hand carrying a loaf of bread by the end of the sack, the other brushing against lilacs.  Right foot.  There's the house again.  Left foot.  Better keep walking.  Right foot.  She must be waiting there for me.  Left foot.  Probably with a knife.  Right foot.  There's door #2, with a snowboarding company sticker stuck haphazardly above the numeral.   Left foot.  Remember the girlfriend who faked pregnancy in high school?  This girl is probably just as crazy.  Right foot.  The ache is growing stronger.  Left foot.  What if she's not clean?  Right foot.  It's been so long since a woman has even touched me.  Left foot.

	I looked up, and found myself staring directly at the large number "2" on her door, 1340 Blake Street.  My stomach clenched down, tighter than before, the tingling growing stronger than ever below.  I watched my hand move out and rap against the faded wooden door.  My hand never went back to my side.  I don't even know if I moved at all.  I heard steps approaching the door.  It opened, first just enough of a crack to see a single eye, brown iris, and a patch of pale pink skin.  Then, the door opened the rest of the way.  

	She stood in the door, a bit off center, on hand still clutching the edge of the door, at first, saying nothing.  I looked at her, my heart racing.  Her shoulder-length dark brown hair hung straight, waving slowly as she breathed.  Her eyes, brown, looking at me too, jumping from eye contact to aversion.  Her cheek, showing just a bit of sign of blush and eye shadow.   Quickly, I glanced up and down her body.  She was a bit chubby, but healthy, her hips flaring and filling the pair of tight jeans she was wearing, with smallish breasts concealed under a red blouse.   I glanced back at her face, taking in the whole of it.  She had a healthy glow about her, despite the fact that her mouth was vacillating back and forth between a smile and a look of mild concern.  I let out a tiny breath of relief.  She looked like, well, just a cute college girl.  Just like any other.

	She spoke up first.  "Uh, hi".  She glanced down at the loaf of bread I was still carrying.
	I drew a breath in sharply.  "Oh, hi there."
	A pause. 
	"I'm here," I began, talking in a quick staccato, "I'm here about the classified."
	She nodded.  "Uh, yeah, of course."  She stood aside in the door, and motioned to my bread.   "You can, uh, set that wherever you'd like."
	I nodded.  "I think I will." I set it on a chair by the door, more carefully then necessary.  I looked up at her.  "Well, that's done."  I patted the loaf of bread on the chair.
	Her face brightened, ready to laugh, but not quite able.  I half-smiled.
	"This is awkward.  I'm sorry"
	With that, she laughed, letting some of the tension out of the room.  "Yeah, I'm sorry, I've never done this before."
	I nodded.  "Me neither."
	She pointed down at the bread, carefully positioned on the chair.  "Bread?"
	I rubbed the back of my head.  "Uh, I needed bread.  I wanted a peanut-butter jelly sandwich."
	She looked quizzically.  "You make PB&Js with rye bread?"
	I glanced down at the bread.  Sure enough, it was rye.  I laughed.  "I guess I was distracted."
	She laughed, and glanced down the hallway.  "Well, uh, do you want to come in?"

	I nodded, and followed her down the corridor, through her kitchen, and into her living room.  She motioned me towards a couch opposite the TV.  I sat down, awkwardly, watching her messing with the DVD player next to the smallish TV.  She bent over, fetching a disc, and as I stared at her impressive hips and ass, the tingling returned in force.  She moved over to the window and pulled the drapes, then walked back to the light switch.
	She looked back at me, nervously.  "I can cut the lights..."  Her question fell off into the already tense air.
	I shook my head, and she smiled a bit, blushing, some tension seeming to fall away from her body.
	She walked back over towards the couch and turned the TV on with the remote.  I glanced at it for a second.  Some tattooed guy was talking to a blonde bimbo on the side of a pool.  I smiled.  Definitely porn.  
	"Uh..." she stood in front of me rubbing her head.  "Would you like...?"
	I swallowed and nodded.  She smiled, and got down on her knees in front of the couch, pushing the coffee table back out of her way.  I helped her to undo my belt buckle, and lay my head back against the couch as I felt her hands slide inside my boxers, searching for my rapidly stiffening member.  Slowly, she extracted it, and, after a few exploratory strokes, brought her lips down to wrap around the tip.  
	I moaned immediately, the sexual tension, the danger, the sheer dirtyness of the whole situation at once dawning on me and making me more aroused than I'd ever been before.   Feeling the first drops of precum flowing, as I saw her other hand slide slowly down under the couch.  Her lips moved up and down along me, taking me a bit deeper with each thrust.  
	I moaned.  She looked up at me and smiled, for just a second, and then brought her lips back down around my member, sliding deeper into her mouth, her tongue sliding back and forth along my length.   I glanced down, her arm below the couch shaking with that tell-tale regularity, her moans muffled by my hard, pulsing member.  
	I ran my hand through her hair as she sucked me, coaxing a deeper moan, her head pushing further down my shaft, my hardness sliding back through her mouth and into her throat, her body not even flinching.  I moaned, feeling my pre-cum flowing more and more freely, the familiar pressure building.  
	My hand in her hair again, I began gasping.  "Unh..." My cum starting to boil up, I began gasping.  "Oh, god... I'm..."  Her head bobbed up and down faster, her tongue moving more frantically.  "I'm going...."  Her hand started moving up and down on my hardness, her lips and tongue circling just the head of my cock.  "Unh... I'm... coming!"  
	As my come shot up through me, she pulled back, closing her mouth and stroking me, jet after jet of my thick come spraying onto her chin, neck and cheeks.  She moaned aloud with each jet, the corners of her mouth curling up into a smile as my orgasm faded.  
	My head slumped back against the couch, my eyes drifting closed as I caught my breath.  "Oh god..." I paused.  Her name was Katy, right?  I sighed.  "Uhh... That was great."  I brought my head back up, opening my eyes and looking down at her, her eyes still closed, her face and body flushed.  Then, I watched her tongue tentatively slide out from between her come-covered lips, tasting me, as her arm sped up a bit.   Hearing my calming breathing, her eyes opened, and a look of concern spread across her (still dripping) face.  
	Her arm came up from between her legs, and she started to stand, unsteady at first.   Once she gained her footing, she looked down at me, my cock now leaning flaccid on my jeans.  

	"Uh..." she began, her voice cracking at first.  "You can go."  She paused, the earlier awkwardness returning, the situation made even stranger by the fact that she was still bearing my come.  "I mean..." she stammered, her eyes downcast, "if you want to go.  I'm sure you're busy."
	"I'm..." I paused and looked up at her, unsure what to say.  Or what to do.  "I'm pretty free today."
	"Oh..." she said.  "Uh, well..."  
	As she spoke, a large droplet of my come slid down from her cheek and onto her shirt, coming to rest on her right breast.  She went red, even beyond her already arousal-flushed cheeks, her eyes wide.  I reached over to the side table, to a box of tissues, and handed her one, smiling, partly to try and calm her embarrassment, and partly at the odd humor in the situation.  She smiled, taking it, and wiping her shirt clean, leaving only a wet-spot where some had already soaked in to the fabric.  
	"Thanks", she said, balling up the tissue.  Then, with a spark of memory, she brought the tissue up to her face, wiping off some of the remaining come.  She looked away, back towards the TV.  I looked at her reflection in a picture on her mantle, catching her as she quickly swirled her tongue around her still-covered lips, then brought the tissue back up to her face, turning back to face me.
	I looked down, chuckling quietly as I realized I was still exposed, then set about tucking my now-flaccid member back into my jeans.  She walked over and paused the DVD, permanently freezing the blonde on all fours. 
	
	"So..." she said.  
	I nodded.  "So..."
	She glanced nervously over at the kitchen.  
	I took a breath.  "Uh, well, that was great.  You're great at... uh... that."
	She smiled and blushed.  "Thanks"
	"Do you... uh... do this often?"
	She shook her head.  I nodded.  She looked back up at the kitchen.
	I broke the silence again.  "A one time thing?"
	She slid a hand onto her hip, rubbing nervously.  "Yeah, I guess.  You were the first guy to respond."
	I nodded.  "Lucky me."
	She smiled, still a bit flushed.  "Uh.  You don't have to stay, you know that, right?  I don't want to keep you."
	I nodded, breathing in awkwardly.  "It's OK.  Unless you've got somebody else...?"
	She shook her head, "I don't know if I'd want more than one guy in a day."  She glanced down at the wet spot on her shirt.  "Maybe I would..."  She laughed nervously.
	"Did you enjoy it?"
	She nodded.  "It's been way too long since I... well... yeah"
	"Gave head?"
	She nodded again, almost bashful.  "... and tasted... you know."
	I smiled, amused that a girl who could request a facial in front of the entire internet wouldn't even say "come" in person, but understanding the awkwardness of the situation.
	She looked at the TV behind us, and then at me, still sitting awkwardly on the couch.  "Uh... look..."  She bit her lower lip.  "If you're staying... would you mind if I... uh..."
	I looked up at her, intrigued, and felt my pulse quicken.
	"I... uh... kinda need to... come"
	I nodded.  "Can I watch?"
	She looked over at me, turned away and insecure at first, but seeing the desire in my eyes, seemed to open back up.  "If you want."
	I nodded, looking up and down her curvaceous, pleasantly plump body.
	
	She bit her lip again, and, still standing in front of me, slid a hand down the front of her jeans.  Moaning a bit, her tongue pushed out of her mouth, circling her lips again, as her fingers started to move between her legs.  
	I took a sharp breath in, hardening again.  "You can take off your jeans... if you'd like"
	She took a sharp breath, looking down again at me, nervous, but then pulled her hand out from between her legs, unbuttoning her jeans as the other hand started to slide them down her wide hips, revealing a pair of light yellow cotton panties, the crotch soaked already.  She sat down on the coffee table in front of me.  
	I kneaded the front of my pants, my cock springing back to attention, as her hand slipped into her panties.  Keeping her eyes focused on my crotch, her tongue slid out of her mouth, circling her lips again, perhaps even still tasting me.  Her hand sped up inside her panties, and she started to moan. 
	I started rubbing myself again, first through my pants, then sliding a hand down my own pants.  I stared at her pale yellow panties, her darker pubic hair starting to show through as her wetness spread.  "You can take those off too, if you want."
	She blushed, then slowly stood, pulling her cotton panties down over her curvaceous hips, revealing a sparse, but seemingly natural bush surrounding her red, swollen, and incredibly wet lips.  I inhaled sharply, her scent reaching my nostrils, filling me with hunger and speeding the motion of my hand against my hard cock.
	She sat back on the coffee table, spreading her legs wider, one foot up on the couch next to me.  I watched as she dipped a finger deep into herself, then, her eyes closed, brought the finger up into her mouth, licking it clean.  Her breathing growing heavier, her moans growing stronger, and her swollen pussy growing wetter, I continued stroking faster and faster.  She leaned her head back, concentrating on her clit, her other hand coming up to massage her breast, her fingers leaving a wet trail of her juices on her shirt.  
	I took a deep breath, moaning, and again, caught the scent of her arousal, and it pushed me over the edge.  I sat up, the couch creaking, and she opened her eyes.  
	"I..."  I stuttered, maddened with lust, all thought of consequence or risk gone from my mind.  "I need to taste you"
	She just stared at me, looking almost perplexed, but after a moment, she bit her lip and nodded, spreading her legs further.  
	Within seconds, I was on my knees between couch and coffee table, my head lowering to her wet sex.  Without reservation, I pushed my tongue between her swollen lips, tasting her come as it flooded into my mouth.  I started lapping up and down, feeling her hand move to the back of my head, pushing me deeper between her lips.  My hand still stroking furiously, I swirled my tongue around inside and around her wet sex as quickly as I could, her moaning growing stronger and stronger, as the taste and sensation coaxed the come slowly up out of me.  
	"Oh... oh... oh..." she moaned, her breath catching with every moan.  "I'm... so... close..."  I felt my own come starting to boil up and out of me, and then, almost without warning, both of her hands on the back of my head pushed my tongue deep into her, still swirling, her legs clutching my head.  She screamed, thrusting back against me as she came.   Her moaning and wanton thrusting pushed me over the edge, causing me to spray my second load of come all over my hands and body.  I kept licking, gradually slowing, until she spread her legs and slowly backed away.  
	
	"Jesus..." she said.  "I haven't come like that in... well... a long time."
	I nodded, wiping her juices off of my face with my arm, and finally looking down to find my jeans and shirt almost completely covered in my own cum.  I pointed down at my come-covered clothes.  "Apparently, neither have I...
	She laughed, her body still clearly coming down from the orgasm.  "What a mess..."  Her look changed suddenly, and she motioned me to stand.  I stood, and she leaned down to a rope of milky come, still clinging to my jeans.  She extended her tongue, and quickly licked it off of me, then looked up and smiled.  
	I took another deep breath in.   "That was fun."
	"Mmmmhmmm..." she moaned, nodding.
	I handed her her still-damp panties, which she slipped back onto her wide and shapely hips.  She gestured down to my come-covered clothing.   "You're... uh... still a mess."
	I nodded.  "Yeah..."
	"You can... uh, use my washer and dryer if you'd like..." she trailed off.  "If you're not in a hurry to leave."
	"You sure?"  I asked.
	She nodded.   I slipped my shirt and jeans off and handed them to her. 
	 "Thanks."
	She went off down the hall with my clothes, and I sat down at her kitchen counter.   I glanced over at her desk, only to find the same compliment of sociology books I had just purchased for the summer semester.	She walked back in, still wearing just her shirt and her pale yellow panties.  I smiled, looking her up and down again.  She sat down across the counter from me, and we sat in silence for a moment.  
	I motioned over to the stack of books on her desk.  "I didn't know you were in Sociology too"
	She laughed.  "Been doing some snooping?"
	I blushed a bit.  "Sorry..."
	She patted my hand.  "It's OK.  But yeah, I'm a Sociology minor."  She paused for a moment.  "Actually, that's how I found those classifieds."
	I looked up at her quizzically.  
	She blushed.  "Well, they're kind of interesting.  Different kinds of people posting, and there can be some very interesting people there..."
	I nodded.  "You know, I understand exactly what you're talking about."
	"So," she began, after a second of silence.  "What's your name?"  She paused.  "And for that matter, would you like a drink?"
	I smiled.  "John.  And I'd love one.  Thanks"
