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The Men in My Life
I moved into my dorm room at USC a week before classes began for the spring semester. My roommate had not yet arrived and I lay in my bed thinking of the men in my life and their effect on my life during my final semester at Community College.
There wasCoreyDaniels, he had been my boyfriend and fiance at the beginning of the summer. But he had gone to Chicago for an internship and a semester of advanced studies at the University of Chicago. He had taken up with another woman and not even bothered to tell me. I had to find out from his mother! I was devastated. When he came back for Christmas I found out that the other woman had dumped him. He contacted me and I told him that I wasn’t sure I could ever trust him again.
He called and asked for another chance, the bitch had dumped him, and I told him that since he had convinced me to turn any decision about who I would marry over to my parents he needed to convince them too. He called repeatedly but I was over him. I left for USC before he came back from Chicago to resume his studies at Cal Tech. I was sure he would be contacting me at USC. I might go out with him but he had a lot of work to do if he wanted me.
HenryBarnett, … dear, sweet Henry. Henry had been a huge help in my getting over Corey. He was a widower, 65. I’m only 20 but I had seduced him out of a desire for sex. I’m still not sure why I wanted or maybe even needed it so badly. Whatever, Henry had been an excellent choice. Sex with him wasn’t just scratching an itch or getting back at Corey. No, it made me feel wanted and important. Henry showed me that I was desirable to men other than Corey and that other men could please me as much as Corey did.
Before I left I set Henry up with several other women more his age, excepting Jennifer who was only 36. He took to playing the field like a fish to water. I was even a bit jealous of the time he began spending with them. But I had selected him because he seemed “safe,” someone I could leave when I when to USC with no regrets. Well there was a bit of regret but Henry and I remained good friends and may still share some “benefits.” He and I had spent a wild night of good-bye sex after a rock concert the night before I moved. I had suggested an opera but Henry picked the rock concert based on his knowledge of my musical preferences. He was like that.
Dr. Jacobs had been my family doctor as long as I could remember. When I started pre-med studies he took an interest in my career and had given me a job as a medical assistant. He had also helped me pick USC, his alma mater. When I broke up with Corey he provided advice on how to get over my distress. He gave me extra work that was not too difficult to keep my mind off Corey. He helped me understand that no matter what happens I can continue to function. I’m much stronger as a result. If anyone helped my transition from the girl I was at the end of the summer to the woman I felt like now, it was Dr Jacobs.
Leo Daniels is Corey’s father. When Corey and I were to be married he had set up an educational trust fund for me. However, the terms of the trust fund expected me to marry Corey. When Corey broke up with me I was concerned that the trust fund would no longer fund my education. That would certainly put an end to my plans to attend USC and could make it difficult for me to continue to get the MD degree I wanted.
I talked to Mr. Daniels and he seemed as upset about what Corey had done as I was. He assured me I didn’t need to worry and then sent me revised trust fund terms. He dropped all the marriage conditions, added some money for personal expenses and added one new condition — the money could only be used to pursue a degree of training in a medical field. Mr. Daniels had made sure I would reach my goal of being an Ob/Gyn.
And, there’s my Dad,Tom O’Connell. He’s always there for me and for my mom. Throughout my life he has demonstrated that a woman can trust a man. My father’s example showed to me that even if I can’t trust Corey, there are men I can trust. I took out a piece of paper from the bottom of my desk drawer, “I trust you explicitly and give you full authority to decide who I should marry,” it began. The “contract” I had made with my parents. I looked at it and put it away. I considered it my primary assurance that I would not choose improperly.
Rachael and Josh
My roommate, Rachael, showed up just a day before classes began. She was a sophomore who had been at USC since her freshman year. She was kind of a “party girl” and well known by other dorm residents, especially the guys. We were in a coed dorm with women and men on alternating floors. The rules said no members of the opposite sex on floors after 11 but that was ignored rather than obeyed. Women would spend the night in men’s rooms and vice-versa. There was kind of an unwritten rule that when a woman was spending a night in a man’s room the roommate was welcome to use her room. That meant I had a lot of one-night male “roommates”. canlı bahis I made it clear to Rachael, as soon as I clrealy understood her social activities (it took less than a week) that I intended to study and expected her to go to the guy’s place. She was free to entertain a guy with me here but I didn’t intend to leave.
Anyway, Rachael was away more often than present and in the first few weeks every one of the displaced roommates came to our room looking to score with the hot new roommate. I was propositioned a lot those first few weeks. It seems that many women would bed the guys forced out. I made it clear I wasn’t one of them. I was here to learn and study. Looking back I guess I was always a serial monogamist, or more accurately serially monandrous. I tended to bond with just one guy and wasn’t interested in sex with lots of different guys. I think I also had kind of an obsession with STD’s.
Not that I avoided all social contact. Several guys invited me to basketball games, movies and parties. If they seemed polite and interested in companionship other than sex, I accepted. Some made vague invitations, hoping I would pick the destination. I always suggested the opera. That weeded out many of them but, unfortunately, seemed to leave behind those who were interested mainly in sex and would undergo anything to get it.
Did I have sex? I gave in to the pressure from a couple of cute guys but regretted it. They were both insensitive to me, just after their own pleasure. In, out, in, out, ejaculate and good-bye. I guess, “wham bam, thank you ma’am,” is the conventional phrase except I never heard the “thank you” part.
Josh Westerly was John Sanchez’ roommate. Rachael was with John at least once a week and Josh always came by. Josh was unique in that he didn’t even attempt to make a play for me. The first time he came he just said meekly, “Rachael is in my room, would it be okay if I stayed here?” Then he just sat at her desk and studied. When it became clear his room would be in use all night he went to Rachael’s bed and slept in his clothes. With the others I always went to the shared bathroom to change into my nightclothes but I took a chance with Josh and changed in the room. I didn’t think he even peeked.
Well, Josh grew on me. He was maybe 5-8 and a bit on the slim side. he seemed to be reasonably strong despite his thin limbs, I guess “wiry” is the usual term. He had a thin face with a protruding thin nose and small thin lips. Looking at what I wrote it sounds homely but he was really quite nice looking even if not the most handsome guy. Sometimes he would find he was missing a book or had forgotten some study materials and ask me if I had a book or took a particular class. I never had what he needed and he would go scavenging for what he needed. When he couldn’t find it he would return and lay in Rachael’s bed reading or just staring into space.
I had to break the ice, “So, Josh, whatis your major,” seemed a safe start on his third visit to my room.
“What? Oh! Uhh, architecture,” he replied almost like he wasn’t sure.
“You’re a junior?” I guessed.
“Uhh, no, a senior,” he responded.
“And you don’t care for girls?” I said with as light, joking a voice as I could manage.
“Uhh, no, I mean yes, I mean, I like girls. What do you mean?”
“Well, you come in, use my roommate’s desk and bed and barely speak to me, unless you need a book or something. Maybe it’s me you don’t like.”
“You seem nice,” he responded. “I thought you wanted to study. That’s all you seem to do. I didn’t want to interrupt. And, …”
I interrupted his pause, “and? And what? Just shy with women?”
“Well, a little bit,” he paused again. “Especially good looking ones. I guess I didn’t think you’d be interested in me.”
Recognizing the romantic and sexual implications, I wanted to defuse it without making a direct challenge to his interest, “interested in you for what? As a friend? Why wouldn’t I want to be your friend?”
He quickly recognized the “let’s just be friends” implications when he had hoped for more but now, he responded without missing a beat. I think he was used to it or maybe had been thinking about it for a while. “Oh, Oh, of course. But, you know, uhh you know, …”
I decided to face the issue head on, “But I know that most guys come in hoping I will have sex with them?”
He was a bit taken aback by my directness, “Uhh, yeah, or anyway to make out.”
“Is that what you want?” I asked, now watching for his reaction as a test of his honesty.
He took his time trying to frame a response. “No. … Well, yes. … But not exactly.”
“Well, you’re really beautiful. I guess it did enter my mind, maybe a lot. Especially when you would undress while I’m here.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” I said. “So you were peeking?”
“How could I help it? How could any guy help it? But,” he paused, looking for the right words. “But, I really didn’t come here looking bahis siteleri for that. I just wanted a place to study and sleep. And I didn’t, … I don’t want you thinking that’s what I want from you. I would like to be friends but I was afraid, … I was afraid that if I started talking I would make you think I wanted something else.”
“You mean that I would think you wanted sex or a romantic relationship?”
“Yeah, but I don’t, well I mean I might be glad to have one, but that’s not what I want, not mostly.”
“So why would I think otherwise?”
“Well because that’s what most guys would want. And because, well, I’m not always good at getting the right words out. I would have said something to give you the wrong impression. My emotions from being here with you, with a good looking woman, a woman I would like to have as a girlfriend would overwhelm my desire to be on good terms with her. I know it would come out wrong. You’d think I just wanted, … well, just wanted, … just wanted your body.”
“Josh, thanks for being honest with me. Just friends?” then I added some words of hope, “just friends, for now?”
“Just friends,” he said. Then recognizing my final words he smiled and said, “for now.”
After that we would spend a lot of time talking and joking when he came over. I sometimes had to cut him off so I could finish my homework or study for an exam. He never touched me but sometimes when he said something I found particularly sweet or funny I would kiss him or give him a hug.
No Longer “Just Friends”
Then, we made love. I don’t remember the exact circumstances except that I had been listening to some opera on my MP3 when he came in. I was feeling really horny. I don’t remember the exact subject of conversation but I remember he was sitting on Rachael’s bed. He said something that blended so well with my feelings that I grabbed him and gave him a huge combined kiss and hug. He reacted in surprised, not knowing what to do. I moved one of his hands to my breast and stroked his crotch through his slacks. “I think the time for just friends is over, Josh,” I told him frankly, pulling my shirt off.
He stared at me as as if he were in shock when I removed my bra.
“You don’t think so?” I said as I unbuttoned his shirt and then kissed him, applying my naked breasts to his bared chest. I noticed his chest was almost devoid of hair.
“I guess,” he responded. “But, uhh.”
“But?” I asked as I removed my jeans and pulled up my underwear to emphasize my genitals. I began to unbuckle his pants.
“Don’t laugh,” he pleaded.
“Don’t laugh? Why should I laugh?”
“Other girls did,” he said.
“I’ve only had sex, actual sex once,” he admitted. “I had a couple of other chances but they laughed,” he almost looked like he would cry.
“But why would they laugh?” I stopped in my actions to remove his pants.
“My penis,” he said quietly. “My penis is really small.”
I was totally taken aback. How was I to respond to that. Clearly I mustn’t laugh. But now I wondered how small? one inch, three inches, maybe six inches which wasn’t small but I think a lot of guys under eight inches believed they didn’t measure up. They watched too many porn videos with ten inchers. If it were really tiny I wondered if I could enjoy myself, especially when Josh was so inexperienced in using it.
“Josh, I won’t laugh,” I reassured him. “But depending on its size you may need some special instructions if you want to please me. Will you do what I ask you?”
“Sure,” he said, brightening.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said honestly. “Now let’s see this amazing little fellow!”
I pulled his pants off and lowered the band of his boxers to expose a flaccid but enlarging inch long cock poised over a set of huge, hairless testicles and with the base surrounded by a thick patch of dark brown hair.
“Oh my,” I said, “your balls make up for any lack of penis size.”
“But they don’t go inside you,” he said as I kissed the expanding uncircumcised penis, now two inches long, and held his testicles in my hand gently massaging them.
“I’m a pre-med major,” I joked back at him. “I know which parts go where.”
“Please remove my panties”, I told him. As he did, his cock hardened to a full four inches, and maybe an inch in diameter. Except for the soft tip protruding from the foreskin it was rock hard.
I pushed him back on the bed and presented my crotch to his face. “Touch me,” I told him calmly. “And kiss me. Lick my labia.”
He seemed unsure and hesitant but began rubbing his hands over my crotch. I sucked his entire cock into my mouth and began rubbing it all over with my tongue and pushing my tongue between his foreskin and shaft.
I paused to tell him again, “Use your tongue, lick me between my labia.”
“What?” he said.
I thought a college guy would know something about female anatomy and the names of things but decided I needed to be a bit cruder. “Lick my bahis şirketleri slit,” I said. “Push your tongue inside my slit.”
He began licking in a mechanical but satisfactory manner. “Vary your movement, swirl your tongue a bit, and keep rubbing me with your fingers.” I told him. I wasn’t sure this blow by blow requesting was worth the trouble. “Maybe I should just let him fumble around,” I thought.
I went back to sucking his cock and licking off the sour, salty pre-cum that kept oozing out. He was beginning to take deep breaths and paused in his actions at my cunt so I decided I better ease off.
“Do you know where my clit is?” I asked him. So far he had demonstrated little knowledge of female anatomy but I didn’t wnat to insult what knowledge he had. “I like it when a guy rubs it or licks at it.”
He paused to say, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“My pleasure button,” I said, “at the front of my slit. Rub it, lick it.” I liked Josh and didn’t want to discourage him so I tried as best I could to hide my frustration. I wondered if the girl he said he had sex with had possibly enjoyed it. At least he seemed interested in pleasing me, inept as he was, more so than pleasing himself.
He began fingering my clit and I massaged his balls, which were now contracted next to his crotch and moving like mad inside their sack.
I decided I would have better luck with intercourse, me on top so I could be in control. I suspected my lack of enjoyment was as much due to constantly telling him what to do as any real deficiency in his technique. I pulled away from him and moved to mount his four incher. As I dropped onto it he did one thing right and lifted his hips to enter me more completely. “Ohh, that’s good!” I exclaimed, mostly to encourage him.
It did feel surpassingly good. I wasn’t sure what to expect with the small size but it did fill the cavity, even though it didn’t really stretch it. I could feel it rub against my G-spot and push against my cervix. I felt his pubes contact my clit as he thrust up into me.
As he held my breasts I had a thought and pulled off, swung around so I faced away from him and quickly lowered myself onto him again. That accomplished two things. First, his cock pressed a bit more against my G-spot as it entered and secondly his balls bounced against my clit as I came down. I had remembered my mother saying she liked the way my father’s testicles felt when they did it doggy style. I couldn’t get Corey’s huge cock into me from this angle and Henry’s balls pulled into his abdomen when he got excited. But Josh’s balls tightened up and were perfectly positioned. With the right rhythm they bounced against my clit as I came down. They hit with a cushioned tickle that was enhanced by my knowing they were his testicles.
He held my hips and swiveled his hips against me as I moved up and down. Then he moved his hands toward my breasts. I leaned back so he could reach them and felt that his cock would pop out so I stopped moving. My new position caused the tip of his cock to massage my G-spot as he swung his hips. Meanwhile he could now massage my breasts and I leaned back entirely against him so he could nuzzle and kiss my neck.
A pre-orgasmic chill spread through my body and remained as I tightened in anticipation. That brought him over and he grunted making short hard thrusts into me. The pre-orgasmic feeling increased but then subsided without bringing a climax.
His shrinking cock quickly dropped out of me and I reached between my legs for it. I felt semen leaking from the condom as his cock pulled out of it. I grabbed the condom to keep the entire content from pouring out but I knew the semen still leaking from his cock would be dripping onto the bed. Thank goodness it was Rachael’s. She doesn’t use it much anyway.
I rolled off him, dropped to the floor and knelt beside the bed looking at him. He said some inanity like, “Wow, that was good.”
I responded by showing him the condom and saying, “You need to do something with this and if you don’t do something with your cock, the bed will be an even bigger mess.” I guess that wasn’t the most romantic or sensitive way to end a session of love making with a guy I liked.
He asked for a tissue and then covered up with my bathrobe as best he could for a trip to the men’s room down the hall. I had seen guys going down the hall in various strange outfits, holding their privates. Until then I didn’t really understand why.
He returned and removed my bathrobe. He had testicles but seemingly no penis. I was laying in my bed and invited him over. I looked closer and saw a fleshy ball with a sort of nipple on the end just above his testicles. I felt the fleshy protuberance. The nipple was the end of his foreskin, closed over the tip of his penis which now peeked slightly out in response to my touch. I thought that if he were circumcised the tip would look like a flesh colored eyeball embedded in his abdomen above his testicles and with a vertical slit for an iris. I didn’t laugh but could imagine other women doing so if they saw him like this. I wondered how he peed with his penis covered tightly by the foreskin and seemingly nothing to grasp in order to pull it out.
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