Freshman Nymph CH-9
CHAPTER NINE
It had been fun learning, Becky decided. So much fun that she had given
herself over for a short while to a very healthy, very active promiscuity.
So far had she come that the old Becky-frigid, frightened, still 'very
virginal in spite of having been ****d-the old Becky seemed to be a
different person, one she could not imagine had dwelt in her own awakened,
hyperactive body.
She didn't fuck everyone. Not Archie, for example. The boiling sperm
cocktail he had spouted into her sucking mouth left him depleted and
exhausted, unable to get up again. So she had left him with a kiss and
gone back to her room, exuding the aroma of fresh-spilled come to everyone
who got a whiff of her breath, and smiling as her fragrance sparked shocked
recognition.
But on the other band, what about the boy she met in the dorm lobby
Sunday evening, the day after she'd gotten herself talked into making it
with Archie? He'd been nervous and shy too, asking her which room a girl
named Caroline lived in, so he could get back the biology notes she had
borrowed from him. Becky invited him to her quarters, and before he knew
which end of him was up, she had it out and in her. And there were others.
However, aimless, free sex palled of its own accord after a few days, and
Becky realized that she was enjoying her comes but that there was nothing
in it for her beyond the friction that brought her body to pulsating bliss.
The guys she was screwing were, once their cocks had emptied, really rather
dull. She couldn't talk to them. Where was the romantic spark, the sudden
interaction of two people--where was the lightning flash of love? She
still believed in love but now she saw no reason to divorce it from its
most obvious physical manifestation. And now that she had explored the
physical side, she wanted it coupled with the emotional aspect of human
attachment.
And so Becky began her search for a partner who would be more than just
a quick fuck or suck or 69--a partner who could touch her mind as well as
her clitoris.
Tuesday afternoon in World Civilization class she realized that her
quest was ended. Her instructor Mr. Shearing was almost a perfect match
for the unknown man she had been hoping to find. He was handsome in a
rugged masculine way, he was intelligent, young enough to share many of the
new ideas that she had been drinking in since her arrival at State
University, he was unmarried and therefore available. So she went after
him.
Setting him up was easy, although she went about it at her leisure. It
was two weeks before she made her initial play, but once the groundwork had
been laid she wasted no time in following up her lead. And Gods! bedtime
with him had been everything she had hoped it would be. His skilled
lovemaking left her body wracked in what she was sure had to be the
greatest orgasm she had ever known. As they lay on his bed afterwards,
wreathed in haloes of post-coital satisfaction, she had let her mind drift
into fantasies of the even greater pleasures that lay ahead of them.
And then, the bastard had done it to her! As cruelly as Ted had screwed
his passion into her body that day, so long ago it seemed now, Dave
Shearing had screwed his male piggishness into her heart and mind. Her
ideal man had proven when the chips were down to be just another hungry
cock that had no consideration for the real feelings of a young girl.
Well, fuck him! she thought angrily, lying on her bed. He could have had
it all, all for his very own, but he blew it. Oh, how he blew it!
* * * *
Dave Shearing was looking forward to Thursday afternoon's World Civ
class with trepidation and anticipation. Once more the strange but
delightful blonde would be sitting among the students in front of him.
Every time he thought about her lithe, responsive body, the expert quality
of her cock-sucking; the educated strength of her cunt, the eroticism
inherent in her every muscle, he got hard and anxious.
Was it indeed too late to clear it up with her, he wondered. Could ho
redeem himself? He needed an excuse to talk to her alone, one that she
couldn't refuse. Yes! he still hadn't returned the exam papers to that
class. If he busted his ass grading them all tonight, he could give them
back tomorrow. Still undressed after his encounter with the lovely
student, he set himself down at his desk and began to rush through exam
booklets with his red pencil, assigning scores here and there with little
thought of consistency, eager only to get all the remaining papers marked
and ready for return tomorrow at 1:30.
* * * *
Becky sat in her usual chair, watching sardonically as Dave Shearing
passed out test papers. She saw her classmates looking at the scores in
their exam books, some groaning at low marks, some chortling at high marks.
It took Dave a long time to return the papers, because, aside from Becky,
he didn't know anyone in the class by face and name. He would call out a
name, wait for a hand to rise, and then stride that way with a blue booklet
extended. Becky yawned as she waited for her own name to be called. She
wondered if the aftermath of their little encounter would have had any
effect on the high grade he had told her she received. Probably the son of
a bitch has lowered me from an A to a C, she thought.
"Anyone whose name I didn't call can pick up their exam in my office
after class," Dave smiled from the front of the room, positioning himself
behind his lectern with a sheaf of notes for today's lecture.
So that's it, Becky thought A little lure to get me alone with Mr.
Wonderful. She smiled. Okay. If that's how he wanted it.
When class was dismissed, Dave headed for his office with heels of fire.
He threw himself into his desk chair, opened a sheaf of papers, tried to
look casual. If Becky wanted the return of her exam paper, she'd have to
come in and get it. He waited for the telltale knock at his door.
"Come in," he said with a lilt in his voice he didn't want to show.
His eyes feasted on the young beauty of her as she came into his office
then. She was wearing a turtleneck sweater that clung insistently to the
curves of her breasts, fit tight enough to show, to his disappointment,
that she'd donned a bra today, and, below that, a pair of matching slacks.
Her longish blonde hair fell in studied tousles upon her shoulders. Right
now she looked as much like Betty Coed as she had not in his apartment last
night, clad only in that black wig and groovy waistband.
"May I have my exam, please?" she asked, her tone of voice carefully
distant, reserved.
He smiled. "Of course," he said. "But I'd like to speak to you first,
if you don't mind." He indicated a chair near him.
"I really can't stay," she replied. Leave it up to him, she thought
maliciously. See what the sonofabitch is gonna try.
Dave stood up, came toward her. She leaned back against the door and
regarded him casually us be approached. He came within a long reach of
her, then neared, stopping when only inches separated the teacher and his
student.
"Becky," he said in what he hoped was a frank, open, and manly voice.
She looked at him quizzically. "Becky," he repeated. "I'd like to begin
by apologizing to you for last night." Who moved? Did she slide her body
toward him a little or did he drift in her direction? He didn't know, but
it seemed a good sign all the same.
His hand slipped to her shoulder and she let it stay there. Dave smiled
beatifically as he let his arm slide between the door and her soft back.
She said very faintly, "Please, Mr. Shearing," but not in a voice that
made her sound very convincing.
Dave pressed his face toward hers, brushed his cheek with her blonde
locks. His other hand touched her, traced along the line of her jaw,
cupped her chin, lifted her face to his. Her skin was soft as velvet, and
the blue of her eyes reminded him of the clear skies above the Rockies in
summer. Dave knew then that he was in love with this gorgeous girl, and he
wondered if he could bring himself to use the words that would tell her of
his need for her. And be knew suddenly that words were totally inadequate.
He wished he could wire her brain to his, flood her mind with the
sensations that swept across him now as he stroked her face, as he thought
of the sensational fuck they had shared, as he thought of the delights that
could be theirs for all the years to come.
Her lips parted slightly and he saw the pink point of her tongue,
flicking the edges of her even white teeth. Dave bent his head then and
touched her mouth with his. He felt her tongue brushing his lips and
opened them to suck it in. Her breasts pressed against his body, and the
side of her thigh rubbed his crotch. Dave's cock sprang erect, much to his
embarrassment, for there was no way he could prevent her from knowing how
sexually aroused she had made him.
Becky didn't resist him, however, much to his joy and hope. Her thigh
remained plumb against his growing meat and she seemed if anything to be
increasing the friction of their tactile contact. And then her fingers
slipped down his chest, to rub and fondle the stiffening pole of his
erection through his pants. He moaned into her mouth as she felt him with
her skillful hand, and he felt her humming giggle in reply.
It was time to tell her just how he felt about her. Dave pulled his
mouth from hers, cupped her chin between thumb and finger, and looked down
at her with love gleaming from his every fiber.
"Becky," he said, "I don't think you can ever know how badly I feel
about last night. I had to talk to you, to try to explain, to make things
better for both of us."
She placed a finger over his lips, her mouth making a shush sound.
"Don't talk," she smiled, her hand still rubbing up and down the length of
his still clothed peter. Ah, he thought, all the fear and trembling had
been groundless. In the clear morning light she had realized that his only
sin was ignorance. Soon, soon, he knew, she would extract his dick from
his pants and then? Who knew what they could not do, even in the cramped
quarters of a first-year instructor's office.
His cock was hard as a diamond now, jerking inside his trousers as Becky
continued her casual fondling. He put down his fingers to stop her, for it
was time to come to the understanding he knew they could reach. But she
continued to squeeze his penile flesh, and the head quivered as her fingers
kneaded it from outside its cloth prison.
"Becky," he said once more.
"So hard," she whispered, "so big and hard. The best cock ever. And
it's all for me?"
"Ummm," he replied, his hips moving in time with her strokes.
"Oh, good," she breathed in a husky voice, as her hand moved faster and
faster on his trousers, and his cock reacted to her stimulation.
"Because--" she went on, smiling a smile that would have made a
professional politician seem a sourpuss--"because--" and her hand began to
move faster and faster and faster and faster, and Dave felt his dick begin
to quiver impulsively and suddenly it was heaving and his balls were
twitching violently and his prick was spilling its warm, heavy load inside
his shorts.
He jumped like a shot as his underpants began to soak from the rapidly
spurting semen, and his eyes fixed upon Becky's face. She stood looking at
him, her mouth twitching mysteriously, and then her face convulsed into a
grin and her mouth spouted raucous laughter.
"Was the hand job okay, Mr. Shearing?" she asked insouciantly. "Can I
have my test back now?"
And without looking at him a second longer, she strode across the room,
shoe heels clicking and clacking, to his desk, where her blue exam booklet
lay. "Oh," she said as she opened the booklet to the first page. "An A.
That's just what I was hoping for."
Dave looked at her uncomprehendingly, his hand trying to pull the soaked
fabric away from his body. A stain was spreading on the crotch of his
trousers. She walked past him. Her hand was on the doorknob when he
spoke.
"Becky. Please don't go."
Her face turned to his, and the eyes that stared at him were blue and
cold as cobalt. Her lips crinkled and then she laughed once more, bitter
this time.
"I wouldn't get close to you again for anything," she snarled. "Not
even if you took your cock out in the middle of the Campus Green and told
me you'd die if you couldn't stick it in me just once." She opened the door
and started out. "Oh," she said, sticking her head back inside for just a
moment, "you'd better get your pants cleaned real soon. Come stains are
hard to get out, if you let them dry." And she was gone.
Dave's heart sank. He had been so sure she could read what was in his
mind, in his breast. And the worst of it, the very worst, was that he
still wanted her. In fact, he was sure that he loved her all the more now
that he had seen in her the fury of a woman who thinks she has been
scorned.
It had been fun learning, Becky decided. So much fun that she had given
herself over for a short while to a very healthy, very active promiscuity.
So far had she come that the old Becky-frigid, frightened, still 'very
virginal in spite of having been ****d-the old Becky seemed to be a
different person, one she could not imagine had dwelt in her own awakened,
hyperactive body.
She didn't fuck everyone. Not Archie, for example. The boiling sperm
cocktail he had spouted into her sucking mouth left him depleted and
exhausted, unable to get up again. So she had left him with a kiss and
gone back to her room, exuding the aroma of fresh-spilled come to everyone
who got a whiff of her breath, and smiling as her fragrance sparked shocked
recognition.
But on the other band, what about the boy she met in the dorm lobby
Sunday evening, the day after she'd gotten herself talked into making it
with Archie? He'd been nervous and shy too, asking her which room a girl
named Caroline lived in, so he could get back the biology notes she had
borrowed from him. Becky invited him to her quarters, and before he knew
which end of him was up, she had it out and in her. And there were others.
However, aimless, free sex palled of its own accord after a few days, and
Becky realized that she was enjoying her comes but that there was nothing
in it for her beyond the friction that brought her body to pulsating bliss.
The guys she was screwing were, once their cocks had emptied, really rather
dull. She couldn't talk to them. Where was the romantic spark, the sudden
interaction of two people--where was the lightning flash of love? She
still believed in love but now she saw no reason to divorce it from its
most obvious physical manifestation. And now that she had explored the
physical side, she wanted it coupled with the emotional aspect of human
attachment.
And so Becky began her search for a partner who would be more than just
a quick fuck or suck or 69--a partner who could touch her mind as well as
her clitoris.
Tuesday afternoon in World Civilization class she realized that her
quest was ended. Her instructor Mr. Shearing was almost a perfect match
for the unknown man she had been hoping to find. He was handsome in a
rugged masculine way, he was intelligent, young enough to share many of the
new ideas that she had been drinking in since her arrival at State
University, he was unmarried and therefore available. So she went after
him.
Setting him up was easy, although she went about it at her leisure. It
was two weeks before she made her initial play, but once the groundwork had
been laid she wasted no time in following up her lead. And Gods! bedtime
with him had been everything she had hoped it would be. His skilled
lovemaking left her body wracked in what she was sure had to be the
greatest orgasm she had ever known. As they lay on his bed afterwards,
wreathed in haloes of post-coital satisfaction, she had let her mind drift
into fantasies of the even greater pleasures that lay ahead of them.
And then, the bastard had done it to her! As cruelly as Ted had screwed
his passion into her body that day, so long ago it seemed now, Dave
Shearing had screwed his male piggishness into her heart and mind. Her
ideal man had proven when the chips were down to be just another hungry
cock that had no consideration for the real feelings of a young girl.
Well, fuck him! she thought angrily, lying on her bed. He could have had
it all, all for his very own, but he blew it. Oh, how he blew it!
* * * *
Dave Shearing was looking forward to Thursday afternoon's World Civ
class with trepidation and anticipation. Once more the strange but
delightful blonde would be sitting among the students in front of him.
Every time he thought about her lithe, responsive body, the expert quality
of her cock-sucking; the educated strength of her cunt, the eroticism
inherent in her every muscle, he got hard and anxious.
Was it indeed too late to clear it up with her, he wondered. Could ho
redeem himself? He needed an excuse to talk to her alone, one that she
couldn't refuse. Yes! he still hadn't returned the exam papers to that
class. If he busted his ass grading them all tonight, he could give them
back tomorrow. Still undressed after his encounter with the lovely
student, he set himself down at his desk and began to rush through exam
booklets with his red pencil, assigning scores here and there with little
thought of consistency, eager only to get all the remaining papers marked
and ready for return tomorrow at 1:30.
* * * *
Becky sat in her usual chair, watching sardonically as Dave Shearing
passed out test papers. She saw her classmates looking at the scores in
their exam books, some groaning at low marks, some chortling at high marks.
It took Dave a long time to return the papers, because, aside from Becky,
he didn't know anyone in the class by face and name. He would call out a
name, wait for a hand to rise, and then stride that way with a blue booklet
extended. Becky yawned as she waited for her own name to be called. She
wondered if the aftermath of their little encounter would have had any
effect on the high grade he had told her she received. Probably the son of
a bitch has lowered me from an A to a C, she thought.
"Anyone whose name I didn't call can pick up their exam in my office
after class," Dave smiled from the front of the room, positioning himself
behind his lectern with a sheaf of notes for today's lecture.
So that's it, Becky thought A little lure to get me alone with Mr.
Wonderful. She smiled. Okay. If that's how he wanted it.
When class was dismissed, Dave headed for his office with heels of fire.
He threw himself into his desk chair, opened a sheaf of papers, tried to
look casual. If Becky wanted the return of her exam paper, she'd have to
come in and get it. He waited for the telltale knock at his door.
"Come in," he said with a lilt in his voice he didn't want to show.
His eyes feasted on the young beauty of her as she came into his office
then. She was wearing a turtleneck sweater that clung insistently to the
curves of her breasts, fit tight enough to show, to his disappointment,
that she'd donned a bra today, and, below that, a pair of matching slacks.
Her longish blonde hair fell in studied tousles upon her shoulders. Right
now she looked as much like Betty Coed as she had not in his apartment last
night, clad only in that black wig and groovy waistband.
"May I have my exam, please?" she asked, her tone of voice carefully
distant, reserved.
He smiled. "Of course," he said. "But I'd like to speak to you first,
if you don't mind." He indicated a chair near him.
"I really can't stay," she replied. Leave it up to him, she thought
maliciously. See what the sonofabitch is gonna try.
Dave stood up, came toward her. She leaned back against the door and
regarded him casually us be approached. He came within a long reach of
her, then neared, stopping when only inches separated the teacher and his
student.
"Becky," he said in what he hoped was a frank, open, and manly voice.
She looked at him quizzically. "Becky," he repeated. "I'd like to begin
by apologizing to you for last night." Who moved? Did she slide her body
toward him a little or did he drift in her direction? He didn't know, but
it seemed a good sign all the same.
His hand slipped to her shoulder and she let it stay there. Dave smiled
beatifically as he let his arm slide between the door and her soft back.
She said very faintly, "Please, Mr. Shearing," but not in a voice that
made her sound very convincing.
Dave pressed his face toward hers, brushed his cheek with her blonde
locks. His other hand touched her, traced along the line of her jaw,
cupped her chin, lifted her face to his. Her skin was soft as velvet, and
the blue of her eyes reminded him of the clear skies above the Rockies in
summer. Dave knew then that he was in love with this gorgeous girl, and he
wondered if he could bring himself to use the words that would tell her of
his need for her. And be knew suddenly that words were totally inadequate.
He wished he could wire her brain to his, flood her mind with the
sensations that swept across him now as he stroked her face, as he thought
of the sensational fuck they had shared, as he thought of the delights that
could be theirs for all the years to come.
Her lips parted slightly and he saw the pink point of her tongue,
flicking the edges of her even white teeth. Dave bent his head then and
touched her mouth with his. He felt her tongue brushing his lips and
opened them to suck it in. Her breasts pressed against his body, and the
side of her thigh rubbed his crotch. Dave's cock sprang erect, much to his
embarrassment, for there was no way he could prevent her from knowing how
sexually aroused she had made him.
Becky didn't resist him, however, much to his joy and hope. Her thigh
remained plumb against his growing meat and she seemed if anything to be
increasing the friction of their tactile contact. And then her fingers
slipped down his chest, to rub and fondle the stiffening pole of his
erection through his pants. He moaned into her mouth as she felt him with
her skillful hand, and he felt her humming giggle in reply.
It was time to tell her just how he felt about her. Dave pulled his
mouth from hers, cupped her chin between thumb and finger, and looked down
at her with love gleaming from his every fiber.
"Becky," he said, "I don't think you can ever know how badly I feel
about last night. I had to talk to you, to try to explain, to make things
better for both of us."
She placed a finger over his lips, her mouth making a shush sound.
"Don't talk," she smiled, her hand still rubbing up and down the length of
his still clothed peter. Ah, he thought, all the fear and trembling had
been groundless. In the clear morning light she had realized that his only
sin was ignorance. Soon, soon, he knew, she would extract his dick from
his pants and then? Who knew what they could not do, even in the cramped
quarters of a first-year instructor's office.
His cock was hard as a diamond now, jerking inside his trousers as Becky
continued her casual fondling. He put down his fingers to stop her, for it
was time to come to the understanding he knew they could reach. But she
continued to squeeze his penile flesh, and the head quivered as her fingers
kneaded it from outside its cloth prison.
"Becky," he said once more.
"So hard," she whispered, "so big and hard. The best cock ever. And
it's all for me?"
"Ummm," he replied, his hips moving in time with her strokes.
"Oh, good," she breathed in a husky voice, as her hand moved faster and
faster on his trousers, and his cock reacted to her stimulation.
"Because--" she went on, smiling a smile that would have made a
professional politician seem a sourpuss--"because--" and her hand began to
move faster and faster and faster and faster, and Dave felt his dick begin
to quiver impulsively and suddenly it was heaving and his balls were
twitching violently and his prick was spilling its warm, heavy load inside
his shorts.
He jumped like a shot as his underpants began to soak from the rapidly
spurting semen, and his eyes fixed upon Becky's face. She stood looking at
him, her mouth twitching mysteriously, and then her face convulsed into a
grin and her mouth spouted raucous laughter.
"Was the hand job okay, Mr. Shearing?" she asked insouciantly. "Can I
have my test back now?"
And without looking at him a second longer, she strode across the room,
shoe heels clicking and clacking, to his desk, where her blue exam booklet
lay. "Oh," she said as she opened the booklet to the first page. "An A.
That's just what I was hoping for."
Dave looked at her uncomprehendingly, his hand trying to pull the soaked
fabric away from his body. A stain was spreading on the crotch of his
trousers. She walked past him. Her hand was on the doorknob when he
spoke.
"Becky. Please don't go."
Her face turned to his, and the eyes that stared at him were blue and
cold as cobalt. Her lips crinkled and then she laughed once more, bitter
this time.
"I wouldn't get close to you again for anything," she snarled. "Not
even if you took your cock out in the middle of the Campus Green and told
me you'd die if you couldn't stick it in me just once." She opened the door
and started out. "Oh," she said, sticking her head back inside for just a
moment, "you'd better get your pants cleaned real soon. Come stains are
hard to get out, if you let them dry." And she was gone.
Dave's heart sank. He had been so sure she could read what was in his
mind, in his breast. And the worst of it, the very worst, was that he
still wanted her. In fact, he was sure that he loved her all the more now
that he had seen in her the fury of a woman who thinks she has been
scorned.
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