When I was in college I was helping a gal I wanted to fuck with her Algebra. She wasn’t too bright. She flunked a quiz I’d helped her prepare for and feeling a bit frustrated I contacted the Teacher’s Assistant. We arranged to meet at a bar that was just off campus.
I’m not sure where the gal I was helping went, but she didn’t join us. I wanted to go over her quiz with the TA and for some reason the gal didn’t think that was worth her time. That was fine, my ego had been bruised and I wanted to sort it out with the TA – to prove a point.
The TA was late. I’d had two or three beers by the time she showed up. She wasn’t what I was expecting. I was expecting a bookish and bespeckled math nerd in her mid to late 20s, but the gal who rolled in was in her late 30s, had ridden a motorcycle and looked like a fullback from the Field Hockey team. She was almost fifteen years older than me and had long black hair, a ring through one side of her nose and another through the top part of one ear. She wore Doc Martin’s and a dirty Willie Nelson t-shirt with a flannel shirt tied around her waist. She was a solid block of butchy woman.
If I wasn’t already on my back foot when she walked in and set her helmet down on the bar top, I definitely was after she ordered whiskey neat with a Bud back. So, of course, I had to try to match her – even though I didn’t drink whiskey then. I managed to not cough when I tossed the shot back, but I wanted to… and I think she knew it too and probably thought it was cute… me working so hard at trying to impress her.
Then we got into the maths. I’m not gonna say it was “heated” but it was definitely “spirited.” We agreed the gal I was helping was a ditz. But we agreed that my way of doing the math, while not wrong, was different than the way the TA had taught them in class. We also agreed the gal I was helping wasn’t worth all the effort I was putting into trying to fuck her.
And we drank, quite a lot, as we scribbled math problems out in my notebook.
By this time Happy Hour had started, and as the bar started to fill up… the service had slowed down. The TA stood-up and zipped up her leather jacket, grabbed her helmet and said, “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
I was surprised at my inclusion in that sentence, “Where you wanna go?”
“Your place. I want to fuck and if you drink anymore you’re not gonna be able to.”
I said, “Okay.”
I mean… what else was I gonna say?
We rode her motorcycle – me on the back. It wasn’t the first time I’d ridden on the back of a motorcycle, but it was the first time I’d ridden THAT FAST on the back of a motorcycle. It was one of those Japanese sport bikes, red and loud… I knew it wasn’t Italian, because it didn’t sound Italian. It felt like I was sitting higher than I needed to be – my knees all up around my elbow like a jockey. I didn’t know what to hold onto – the grab bar behind me had me bumping my chest into her back everytime she downshifted or braked. I lost my notebook outta my bag. Her Levi’d bottom was pushed back against me so hard I was afraid I was gonna fall off the back of the bike. So, at some point, I grabbed hold of her – draping myself over her back and held on for dear life… her hair filling my mouth as I shouted directions to my place over the whine of the engine and the roar of the wind. I don’t know how she heard me with her helmet on. I wasn’t wearing a helmet and I wanted one. Badly.
My legs felt wobbly and weak after I got off her motorcycle and I was mildly surprised they held me upright. I lived alone in one of those labyrinthine apartment sprawls where everything looks the same. My legs felt light and vague as we walked across the parking lot, up the stairs to my apartment.
I gave her a tour of my bachelor pad. Wasn’t much to it – one bedroom, precious little furniture and the little I had was battered and had been hard used, huge television, Grateful Dead poster on the wall, dirty dishes in the sink, unmade bed.
I apologized about the state of the place.
She said, “You don’t know how much of a turn-on it is for me to see you’ve got your mattress off the floor.”
It felt awkward suddenly. The vibe changed.
Probably sensing it, she asked, “You got anything to drink?”
I had beer, which she drank outta the bottle, “Import. Fancy,” She said. It wasn’t really – just a Dos Equis.
She leaned against the kitchen counter and looked at me. I leaned against the door jamb and looked at her – wondering what I should do next. If I should kiss her or what. I was intimidated.
“You not drinking?” She asked.
“I shouldn’t,” I said, “If…”
“We’re gonna fuck,” She said, finishing for me.
“That’s my last one anyway,” I said.
“We can share,” She said, holding the bottle out towards me.
I stepped forward, took the bottle from her, set it down on the counter and kissed her.
I may not be a manly-man, but I’m a good kisser. It was tentative, like most first kisses are, but it changed very quickly and got passionate and hungry. Our mouths and tongues working busily at each other.
Her ass felt like I was grabbing a padded bowling ball. She was fairly flat-chested, with huge, stiff and block-shaped nipples. They stood proud – like thimbles, and I then understood why she wore two different sports bras. It wasn’t to support her breasts, but to hide her big stiff nipples.
We began tearing at each other’s clothes – all in a hurry to get naked as we careened our way to my bedroom. I was sorta leading, pushing her towards the bed. Not actually PUSHING but kinda leaning into her, expecting her to fall back on the bed and let me ease down on top of her. But she didn’t do that. She kinda slipped around me and gave me a shove and suddenly *I* was on MY back and she was easing herself down onto me.
Her hands were hard and calloused on my prick. Her grip strong. She had a thick, black bush of pubic hair and a thin line up her abdomen that almost reached her bellybutton.
She climbed over my legs and mounted me, mashing her damp forest down against my crotch.
“Condom?” She asked me.
“No, I don’t have…”
“It’s okay,” She said, “I don’t really care. Do you?”
“Uh… no. No, I don’t.”
We fumbled around, trying to get it inside her. I pushed my prick upright and she raised up onto her knees, I took hold of my prick by the root and pushed it up into the forest of pubes and felt it meet slimy wetness, so I pushed a little more and felt that wet slimy hole give a little, and she flinched.
“Whoa,” She said, raising up and pulling away from me.
“What?” I said, one hand on the root of my stiff prick, the other hand on her muscled thigh.
“That’s my ass,” She said.
“Oh!” I said, alarmed, “Goddamn… I’m sorry.”
She frowned down at me.
“You okay?”
Her frown slowly slid into a smirk, “You telling me you didn’t mean to do that?”
“No… I… uh… I’m sorry.” I really hadn’t meant to.
She reached and took hold of my prick, “You ever fucked a woman in the ass?”
“No,” I confessed, my heart hammering in my chest.
“You want to though,” She said, confidently.
“Well… sure,” I said.
“Do you have any lube?” She asked, matter-of-factly.
“No, not… lube.”
She closed her eyes and pursed her lips, “Too bad,” She said, lowering herself down onto my hardon. Smiling contentedly as my cock slid into her sopping cunt.
She leaned forward and kissed me. Her hair fell over my face and shoulders like a veil.
“I have lotion,” I breathed into her mouth.
“Not the same thing,” She said as she started rocking herself down on my prick, “Now… shut up and fuck.”
I’d like to say it was wild and passionate and world-rocking sex. It wasn’t. She used my prick to get off twice, grinding atop me steadily. I felt ancillary, disconnected and irrelevant. I moved to try and roll her over so I could fuck her, but she pushed me back very firmly and said, “No…” That was it. Just, “No…” So I did what I was told and watched her bring herself off with my prick.
After her second orgasm she sighed happily, raked her hair out of her face and looked down at me.
“You cum yet?” She asked.
“Uh… no,” I said. I was young.
She sighed again, this time resignedly and rolled off me, laying back with her legs spread. I didn’t need to be told or invited. I climbed atop her and started to fuck her.
It didn’t take long. My orgasm was right there, or nearly there. Even though she’d asked if I’d cum, assuming I HAD cum inside her, I felt I should still tell her, warn her. It seemed impolite to just dump my load inside her. I said, “I’m gonna…”
She said, “Go on then.”
It felt like a big release. It’d been a while for me – a long while. I groaned with relief. Felt myself relax completely, sagging atop her – going limp, panting into her neck. My heartbeat hammering in my ears.
“Fucking Christ,” She said, “Get off me.”
I rolled off of her feeling hurt.
“You groan almost as much as a fat Mexican.”
I looked at her, “What?”
“You sweat less,” She said, “Thankfully.” She got up and went to use the bathroom.
I lay there feeling used and scoffed at. I expected her to return, grab her stuff, get dressed and then leave. But she didn’t. She walked in, lay down beside me and went to sleep. Which surprised me.
I tried to sleep, but couldn’t. I was wide awake. I got up, closed my bedroom door so as not to disturb her, and washed all the dirty dishes in my kitchen sink.
She emerged from my bedroom a couple hours after I’d finished washing the dishes. It was full dark by then. Again, I expected her to get dressed and leave, but she was wearing my shirt – unbuttoned. I’d ordered Chinese food from the place in the stripmall next door to my apartment complex and we ate it more or less in silence. Out of the take-out containers.
As I was cleaning-up she said, “Mind if I stay?”
“No,” I said, surprised. I was gonna add: “Not at all.” But that felt like it was too much, and to be honest – I minded a little. That “Get off me,” had rankled some.
She slept hard. I did not. At some point after midnight we fucked again. It was a mostly wordless fumbling in the pitch black. I was beside her and kinda under her at the same time. It was awkward. I wanted to roll her over and fuck her from behind – mash her face into the pillow, but she wouldn’t roll over, she wanted me where I was. So I worked slowly from that awkward position until I was close and again I said, “I’m gonna…”
“Go on,” She said, “I want to sleep.”
So I blew my wad in her cunt again and tried not to groan like a fat Mexican.
She was up early the next morning. I awoke when she got out of bed. I made coffee as she got dressed. She didn’t shower. She drank her coffee black, naturally… and at the door to my apartment she turned to look at me.
“Thanks,” She said.
“You’re welcome,” I said.
“Sorry. I was… tired.”
“Yeah,” I said, “Okay.”
“Can I call you sometime?”
“If you’d like,” I said, and wrote my phone number on the receipt for the Chinese food. I handed it to her.
She looked at it and then stuffed it into a pocket of her leather jacket. Then she kissed me rather perfunctorily on the corner of my mouth. “You’re sweet,” She said, “See ya around, I guess.” And then she left.
I ran into the ditzy gal I’d been helping later that week. “Hey!” She said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you… the TA changed my grade on that quiz.”
“Did she?” I said, surprised… wondering how she’d worked that out.
“Yeah… she said even though I missed all the problems on the quiz I’d still shown an unconventional grasp of the process.”
That made me smile.