stories.xnxx.com


Introduction:

An affair from the wrong side of the tracks
I had been in college for a couple of semesters. The summer before I left home I had had a torrid and educational love affair with a married woman (see: The Late Bloomer and the Pilot’s Wife). I was broke (as usual) but managed to stay afloat by working at a grocery store and tutoring rich kids after class. I had had some luck with fuck buddies (I don’t even remember what we called then before the phrases: Hook-up, Friend-with-benefits and bootie call came into vogue) but I wasn’t able to afford regular dating. Since my Summer affair I had reached my adult height of 6’1” and had gotten pretty buff. I had even started cultivating a certain amount of “coolness” I say this because what I was really doing was just acting like my favorite movie roles: sometimes I was Steve McQueen in Bullitt, sometimes I was Mel Gibson in The Road Warrior as long as I knew who I was “being” I didn’t make any mistakes with girls. I believe it helped me find my own self when I was older, but for now it was what was working for me.

I had joined a fraternity house on a whim, I liked them because they were mostly goofy broke guys like me, and there were very few elitists or jocks to deal with, that was for the big time frats, we were smaller and much less selective: mostly good students who worked crappy jobs and jerked off incessantly. By the time I paid living expenses and my fraternity dues, I had barely enough money for ramen and gas for my brand new 12-year-old car.

Sometime in the spring we had a new guy (a wash-out from an Ivy League school) transfer in from another chapter of our fraternity. He was rich and shallow and he decided to grace us with his presence. He never stopped telling us how much better the other house was than our meager facility, and how we should try to upgrade our standards of pledging (read: more elite assholes like him)

He was a blowhard and taxed everyone’s sense of brotherhood. We’d hear his Porsche pull around the house and everyone would groan. During a weekend party he showed up with a great–looking girl. She was very slender with an athletic build and great legs. She had laser straight black hair that was set against perfect olive skin and almond shaped dark brown eyes. She had a small heart shaped mouth, lovely cheekbones and fine nose and chin. Imagine a Mediterranean Jennifer Connelly. Her name was Diane and she was a rich girl (seems like they stick together) Every time I saw her I would imagine the Douche-Nozzle boring the shit out her with his pompous stories of elite soirees on country club lawns.

She always looked bored and irritable (who could blame her?) Occasionally, we would say hello or have casual chit-chat, but frankly I couldn’t stomach the idea that the DN was fucking her and my disdain for her must have shown through. One day I was sitting outside the campus student union reading and she walked by. She was wearing a sundress and sandals (I was in my standard issue biker boots, t-shirt and jeans) she said hello and I must have grunted something because she stopped in front of me and said:

“You don’t like me, do you?”

I guess my jealousy for the Douche-Nozzle’s feminine bounty was obvious

“What makes you say that?” I asked

“You look at me with disgust”

“I’m sorry you got that impression, it’s mostly disdain for the limited self-esteem you must possess that would allow you to be seen with that pompous dandy”

(Note: I’m not going to lie, I had been thinking about why I didn’t like her for a long time. The words were well thought out for just this eventuality.)

She said, “Well, you’re a judgmental prick”

“You’d know, you’re an expert on pricks” This wasn’t going well.

“Too bad, I thought you were different, but I can see your just another angry young man who hates people just because they have things” and with that she started to leave.

I said “Wait, don’t leave mad, just leave!” Impoverished author does his best Marlon Brando.

I watched her walk away, she was gorgeous, and I was taking my residual anger out on her. I was still working through all the rejection I had suffered in High School (short, fat and poor is no way to go through adolescence) She was part of my retribution for being an outcast, for being “one of the gray people”

I grabbed my stuff and ran after her. When I finally caught up to her in the parking lot I said:

“I’m really sorry, I just have these terrible rude impulses, please believe me, that’s not the person I want to be”

She said “Then why do you say those things?”

I’m not going to say that I understood at that time what I was going through, but I managed to convince her that I really did like her, and that I just couldn’t stomach her boyfriend. I asked her if she wanted to go somewhere to talk. She said she’d drive to a park on the other side of the school. We parked and started walking in the park. She went on to explain that she didn’t even like the Douche-Nozzle and that the only reason she saw him was because their families had been friends for years.

She said he had been pressuring her for years to go out and that she never let him touch her. I considered telling her that the guy used to brag that he was fucking her. But I decided the move would be obvious and too self-serving (I prefer to live in a world where the courtesy of the man-code is extended to even one’s enemies and romantic rivals)

We walked and talked and soon we were hungry, we agreed to get some take-out food, and then she said:

“If I take you to my place, you have to go in quickly, you can’t be seen”

I considered protesting, was she ashamed of me? “Are you kidding?”

She said, “It’s my landlord, they know my parents, and the Douche-Nozzle”

(Note: she didn’t call him the Douche-Nozzle, but I don’t want to humanize the turd by even giving him a made up name)

We arrived after dark with a bag of Chinese food and, as instructed, I slipped into her place. It was a guesthouse behind a large home (estate) in a well-manicured part of the city. The place looked right out of Town and Country and was literally larger then the house I grew up in. I was intrigued by her décor and possessions; where I grew up most people lived paycheck to paycheck. Their furnishings were cast-offs or if they were lucky: straight out of the Sears catalog. Old money is nice!

Her unit had a little kitchen and she brought out some plates and a large bottle of cheap white wine (“The maid buys it for me”). We sat in her living room and ate.

I learned Diane was the daughter of an Irish immigrant father and an Italian mother. Her father had made his fortune in construction. She was pretty sophisticated for 19 or 20 and was well traveled. She told me about cotillion lessons (I didn’t even know such things existed) and living in a boarding school on the East coast, and how the girls were super catty and hated her for being nouveau riche (and beautiful) As we killed the bottle of wine she started getting a little flirty and risqué. She said she had her first sexual experiences with preppy lesbians and rich boys when she was in boarding school, that they would pine and grovel for her attention from the time she was 13 or 14. She was used to manipulating people with her looks. The wine was a truth serum and she was tipping her hand, big time.

Now, a lot of guys would have hung around hoping that they could get something going, even if they knew they were being manipulated. Yes, I wanted to fuck her, but I also wanted to do it on my terms, I just didn’t want to be “another fan” I felt that a tactical retreat would be my best option. I had an urge to leave.

I stood up and said: “I’m sorry I have to leave”

She said: “Why? Where are you going? Are you angry?”
I said, “No, I’m fine. It’s just time, I have a pretty good sense that you’ll be OK without me”

“What does that mean?”

I thought about it and said “You just can’t stand not getting everyone’s undivided adulation and attention, If someone doesn’t respond as you see fit, you tease and lure them in, I’m nobody, what do you care?”

She said “Shut up!”

I went on “I’m sorry, did that hit a nerve?”

She said, “Shut up and kiss me”

I said, “No, you shut the fuck up, and kiss me”

Somehow all her posturing and bravado dissipated, she looked demure and broken. She came over and tilted her face up to meet mine. We kissed and groped and every time she tried to speak, I told her to stop talking.

She made half-hearted attempts to protest as I pulled the shoulder straps of her sundress down.

“No, we shouldn’t. I don’t even know you”

I said, “You know me, I’m just like you. You have to stop talking”

I exposed her lovely small upturned breasts and sienna colored nipples. In one motion I cupped one of them in my hand as my mouth dropped to meet it.

Again she protested, “You can’t, we can’t”

“Please shut up” by now I was in full Jack Nicolson “Do you ever stop talking?”

I reached behind her back and untied the string lacing that was holding her sundress up. Her dress fell away and she was nude save for a pair of shiny panties that were cut high in the thighs (this was the 80’s) She had a lovely torso and flat stomach. I could see her pubic mound and a pronounced bush. I pulled her to me and squeezed her ass from behind. She shivered when I put my palm on her pubic bone and started touching her pussy through the thin panties. My hands caressed and played with her pussy area with just an occasional foray of a finger under her panties elastic leg and waist openings.

She said, “Take them off”
I said, “No, you’re not the boss of me, you take them off”

“Why do you have to be such a jerk?”

“You like jerks, take them off”

With that, her panties were on the ground and she stepped out of them. I told here to lie down on the carpet. I knelt down and straddled her. I started at her mouth and slowly and methodically kissed and touched every inch of her from her hairline of her head to the hairline of her pussy I drank her in. She really was magnificent.

Obviously, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and in retrospect most people will embellish or overlook flaws with a romantic set of rose-colored lenses. As a man who has been fortunate enough to sleep with many lovely creatures (and in their own way I found them all to be beautiful) She was spectacular. There just wasn’t a flaw on this Italian/Irish lass.

I continued to kiss and caress her as I made my way down to her pussy. I licked and teased around her pussy hair and lips and them went past it to her thighs and legs. I intended to tease and probe until she begged me to lick her. Eventually, I worked my way up to having her pussy directly in front of my face. By now, she was grinding her tailbone and ass into the carpet.

I said, “What do you want?”

She said, “Do it”

“What? What do you want, I have no idea” I feigned.

“You know,” she whispered with her eyes closed.

“Tell me, I’m completely lost” I told her.

“Please lick me, do it” she implored.

I said “Thirty minutes ago you wanted me to stop touching you, now you want my tongue in your pussy?”

With that, I pulled her pussy closer to my mouth and used every bit of restraint I had to slowly and methodically work my tongue and lips around her labia being careful to never fully lick her clitoris. Eventually, I probed her pussy and finally I started to lick and suck her clit. She lasted for about three minutes before she started thrashing and moaning all over the floor. By then, I had my fingers in her pussy and my palm on her pubic mound. She came hard and fast and a few moments later she had the second of three or four orgasms from my handiwork (nee: tongue work)
One of the truths about men (and women) is that, for the most part, everyone considers himself or herself to be great lovers. I guess it is human nature. I’m not going to say that I am too. I will say that I had been a very late starter (not my choice, but a conspiracy by every woman in the universe to avoid my sexual overtures) and that I had made it my business to learn every thing I could about the gentle art and science of lovemaking. The three months I spent with the married woman going over every inch of the female form didn’t hurt either.

That said, gorgeous and nude Diane was a completely flushed and cooing heap on the floor of her dwelling. And I was still completely dressed and standing over her. She got half way up and said, “My turn, get in my bed, now” with that admonishment we went to her bedroom.

She said for me to sit on her bed. I did as I was told. She started by straddling my legs with her ass to me and pulling on my biker boots, she removed my boots and socks and then kneeled between my legs. “Shirt off” she ordered as I raised my arms.

She went on, “I wondered about you from the first night I saw you, you never hit on me, or even looked at me” She started to unbutton my 501’s “Douche Nozzle says you’re here on a scholarship but that you act like a drop out, he said you date a waitress from a diner”

“He should mind his own business”

“I think you’re an amazing lover” she said as she pulled my pants down to the floor (leaving my underwear on) and pulled them off. She climbed on the bed and started rubbing my head and shoulders from behind.

“You’ve had a hard life, haven’t you?” she reached around my chest and started rubbing my biceps and triceps.

“You’re so angry, who hurt you?” I was surprised how vulnerable I was feeling.

“I’m going to make you feel good”

With that, she started rubbing my cock through my underwear, She nibbled and sucked my ears from behind as she squeezed my cock and balls through the fabric.

“That’s nice, do you like that?” she cooed. She then pulled the waistband out and reached for my exposed cock. She was kissing my neck and stroking my cock from behind. It felt so good to have her nude and warm breasts against my back.

She pushed me off the bed and said to turn around. Now she was where I had been and she pulled me towards her spread legs and the edge of the bed. She pulled my underwear down and brought her mouth to my balls as she looked up.

She stroked my cock as she sucked my balls looking at me the whole time. Soon she was moving her head up and down on my shaft and pulling my ass towards her. In a very short time I felt I was going to cum. She said “I want it on my face and tits” soon as instructed was ejaculating on her beautiful chin and breasts. It would be very convenient to say that she swallowed every drop blah blah blah, but as I found out later, she just didn’t like cum in her mouth. I really couldn’t care less. After what she did to me I would have clammed into sandpaper!

Diane and I made love for the rest of the night. Her black pussy was as tight and wet as I had ever imagined one could be. We held an erotic marathon until I had to go to work the next morning (on basically no sleep)

In the coming months I would see her at the fraternity house and on campus, we never lead on that we were big time fuck buddies, and only a couple of my most loyal friends knew we were seeing each other on the sly.

Douche Nozzle would take her out on dates and then I would come over and fuck her. Sometimes, I would wait by her place and see him dropping her off before I would go in and have her, his body language at being left at the door was very satisfying for me to watch and was empowering. We had an unspoken arrangement and frankly it worked for me too. I didn’t want or need a girlfriend at this point in my life. We did this for a while until it fizzled out, I don’t remember the last time I saw her. I guess that’s how these things go.
3 comments

anonymous readerReport

2012-10-14 22:37:43
Dude, you have got to keep writing. Very good stories.

anonymous readerReport

2012-03-29 02:20:21
Very hawt. Have you ever had a bi experience? If so, you should write about it!

WhiteHatReport

2012-03-19 00:11:32
Positive Rating on both stories. I like you writing style. Good storyline and great sense of humor. You write this kind of story well. My constructive criticsm is to make it a bit longer and add more sex. For whatever that's worth

SUBMIT A COMMENT
You are not logged in.
Characters count: