College Freshman Adventures Part 3: Sarissa

Sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.

This particular desperate measure was the time in November when I realized I had a test coming up for my History of Communications class that I didn't know a damn thing about. I was acing tests in my other classes, but this one was on a Friday morning and when I didn't find myself missing it, I came in hungover, stoned or a combination of both. The things the teacher said flew in and out of my brain like an incompetent bacteria. I'd already been warned about my dismal grade in an e-mail. Yet I still didn't give a fuck. I'd also been on a dry spell since turning nineteen. I woke up on Friday morning realizing I hadn't fucked any pussy in nine days. That's an unacceptable time to go without for me. The Kleenexes were piling up; the picture of Janis had gotten old. So I went to class. I sat in my seat and made sure to shake a little, look dazed and sometimes look around, confused. I told the teacher I wanted to meet with him afterwards and this is what I said when I entered his office.

“Mr. Jameson,” I twitched. “The problem is that-“ (twitch)-“I had a stroke a month ago” (spazz, make a noise). “I'm sorry that I-“ (Twitch)—“Haven't been coming to class as often or doing so well, but it's only because of how the stroke has affected me and my parents and I-“ (Salivate)-“Don't know what's going on or what's gonna happen. I'm getting an MRA” (breath increases)-“In a few days. I can't really focus right now. I don't know if I'll-“ (Twtich, salivate, sneeze, spazz, make a noise)-“be able to take that test.”

For the record, it wasn't all bullshit. That sneeze was for real. Nonetheless, when I saw Mr. Jameson staring at me with his mouth open in horrified adult sympathy, I knew I had him. I left his office twitching, drooling over to the elevators and having permission to take the test home over the weekend.

I texted Dirk and told him I'd be able to come to his cocktail party. I asked him how many bitches would be there and he said he was working on rounding up at least ten. Good. Not a sausage fest. A Dennis victory.

First, I celebrated by going to the local gym (not the one at school) and lifted the forty-pound weights. I looked at myself in the mirror and liked what I saw. I found the pool door open and jumped in with just my boxers on. The trainer came in and told me I couldn't be there. I pretended not to hear him. When he said he was going to get the manager I decided to hup to it. I got out, dried myself off and politely greeted the manager as he stormed in with his employee. I explained that his employee was being alarmingly rude. I had agreed to leave the pool and he'd still insisted on getting the manager.

“It isn't true, it's bullshit, it is not true!” Squeaked Mr. Tampon to my right.

The manager on my left looked from me to him and didn't know who to believe.

“Well sir, we still do have this section closed off for today. You will unfortunately have to leave.”

“Yes, of course, right away, let me just get my shoes on.”

I took a long time in the hallway to put my shoes back on. I wanted to see the look of rage on the employee's face. The look was there, but he crossed the line: at about second 75 of putting on my first shoe, he grabbed my shoulder and said,

“Listen buddy-“

I go in to attack mode at this shit. I spun around and elbowed his face against the wall.

“Hey! Sir!”

The manager was upon me until I punched him in the neck. I grabbed my other shoe and bolted down the hall. I heard them both running after me but I made it out the back entrance and ran across the parking lot and across the street just in time. I didn't wait for the stop light. I didn't even look. Fuck the cars. They waited for me.

I was laughing the entire time.

Kanye West and bros in collared shirts and short skirts on the girls and drink glasses clinking. I was at Dirk's party.

This party did indeed have a very even mixture of X and Y chromosomes. I took it upon myself to find the cutest, most artificial looking girl in the room. I had seven shots in me already. The gym had just pumped me up for the rest of the day. I felt like I should do something crazy that night.

I walked up to this chick in shorts so tight they must have been cutting off circulation to her legs. She wore a white tank top that glittered enough for her to shine her creed-I'm cute, bang me-to each corner of the room. I got closer and I could see she had some red, glittery makeup on her face.

“Hi,” I said. “Are you from the Mickey Mouse club?” She looked confused. I said; “Or maybe you're one of the Dreamgirls?” She said; “What?” “Grrrrrrrl.” I kind of cocked my head as I said it. She looked around at her friends who looked like they wanted to melt my face off. One got up and left somewhere. This friend was actually much hotter, but I let that sleeping dog lie. “Who are you?” the girl asked.

I figured it was time to take a step towards her. Subtly, so she barely noticed, I took the step. “Dennis,” I said. “Sarissa,” she said extending her hand limply. “Nice to meet you.” “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, madam.” I took her hand and kissed it. She giggled. She asked me what year I was. I told her I was a professor. She believed me until I told her I was joking. Wow. Low intellect. This was perfect. Her eyes shone in the brown light of another tequila. I kissed her on her cheek and realized the glitter was actually perfume. I felt her hand wrap around mine while I slurred something to my buddy and I was tugged away. In the hallway of my dorm, our mouths attached and our hands circulated around each other's waists. Her waist was thin and ideal for cock-bouncing. My waist was muscular and she was noticing that. I could tell she was not a virgin by the way her fingernails felt.

The next thing you know; We lay in the common area of my dorm, on the large leather couch they had there, because my roommate was also getting laid that night and had gotten home first. Sarissa's legs folded around my waist. I'd gotten her shorts off, so I assume enough feeling had returned to her legs to feel her thighs against my abs. I'd admitted as we were undressing each other that I didn't have a condom and promised that I'd pull out. I promised her it would feel better this way.

I was right.

I'd been on top of her for the last four minutes, rocking very gently. She kept her gaze on me expectantly and sighed slowly. I was about to speed up when she grabbed my shoulders with both hands and flipped me over. I mean all the way over, as if I was on a tilt-a-whirl. She was on top of me now, in the cowgirl position. My cock fell out of her and I felt the musty air of the dorm against it. It was only when I felt my erect Johnson peeling through the air for those few moments that I realized my pullout plan was bullshit. I quickly stopped caring. I hadn't raw-dogged a girl in over a year. Then I felt her hand fondling my cock, then I was inside her again.

Peering down at me now, she said; “Fuck me harder and faster than you've ever fucked anybody.”

I gave her this stare that said, you serious, bitch? I took her by the hips and levered her body up and down. I was surprised by how agile her teeny-bopper legs were. They slapped the surface of the couch and fanned against my thighs in spasmodic clenches. The Disney channel just got nasty, folks.

She held my shoulders and spoke between pants; “Yell my name when you're cumming.” “Only if you yell mine, “ I said. She bent over further and her hair flew in front of her face. “Tell me that you love my pussy.” “Vaginas scare me.” Keep in mind that the things I did not give a shit about at that time were:

A) Everybody in the dorm hearing us. B) Nutting inside her. C) Busting the couch.

I cupped my hands around her waist and bounced her hard and faster. One hand slid upward on her body until I was fondling her tits from either side, as if giving her a breast exam while banging her. The other hand worked her waist. A new wetness had unfolded in her pussy and I could feel it against all sides of my cock.

She gasped as if she had been holding her breath underwater. I brought one hand up to her face and ran it over her lips. She pushed my hand in to her mouth and sucked my fingers. She took my fingers out and looking up said, suddenly serious,

“Aaaah, baby, Aaaaahhh, let's not break this couch.”

At that point the awkward kid in my dorm, Simon, poked his head out from his door. This was as Sarissa began making loud noises through clenched teeth, holding back the moment. I craned my head back and said;

“Simon, go fuck yourself.” He scurried back in to his room and slammed his door.

“Who…was that…” Sarissa asked, her hair flying her face as she craned her head to look in to my eyes.

“Caspar the Friendly Ghost,” I said, flexed my arms and levered her hips up and down at what scientists would call Light Speed. Her thighs smacking my abs. Her pussy so wet I felt some dampness on my pubes that was like getting kissed by a sponge over and over. Loud, absurd female vocals overhead. It was like the middle section of Lil Kim's song about how much she likes to get her pussy eaten except louder. I didn't slow down. I heard a few doors open and close behind me.

She tilted her head to the light, swore loudly, buckled her knees around my sides and gasped; “Baby.”

The faces girls make when they're in a state of distended ecstasy are expressions I will never tire of. Some of them get red-cheeked and squinty eyed and look like they're trying to outlast an ordeal. Others get this expression like they want to tell you how fantastic they feel but they don't know how to say it. Others just look serene and don't stop eye contact.

Sarissa kept her mouth open. Wide, wider, widest. It got wider than I thought was possible. I started literally flopping my ass up and down. I thought Sarissa was going to be like what the fuck, but she started screaming. Genuinely screaming. I was sure was going to wake up the entire dorm and I was sure somebody would think this was something it wasn't. She rubbed a hand over my face so I couldn't see a blessed thing. I put a hand up to her face and put it over her mouth. I barked at her to be quiet.

When I started cumming inside her I cried; “Sarissa!” because I'm a caring guy who remembers the names of bimbos I bang on dorm lounge couches. I also held her hips in down position on my cock and her thighs squeezed me. I took my hand off her mouth and let her sex-shriek in to my face. Her cheeks were flushed reddish-purple.

My ass flopped on to the edge of the cushion which was sliding off the couch and the spring frame caved in. My body folded over and I bumped my head in to the arm rest. Sarissa sprang off me and jerked over the side of the arm rest, facing the ugly carpet. I stared up in to the curves of her small, dangling boobs. She tried sitting down and her damp pussy grazed my chest. Embarrassed, she lifted herself back up and kept squatting while she caught her breath. I hadn't shot off everything inside her. I may have dripped on the cushions.

A door swung open and a tired, overweight female voice said. “I'm calling the fucking cops! You guys are so disrespectful.”

At that point I knew it was time to bounce. I rolled off the couch, hit the floor and jumped up. I didn't bother putting on my clothes, I just scooped them up. Sarissa was still perched on the edge of the collapsed couch when she got really nervous and looked at me, then in the direction of the angry customer.

“Sorry!” she replied, pointlessly. And then; “Oh shit. You came inside me. Oh shit.”

I helped her get dressed because she was that paralyzed with fear. I threw on my underwear and pants for good measure, but for whatever reason, just let my shirt dangle over my shoulder. I led her down the hall, soothing her, telling her it's okay, everything would work out. She ran in to the nearest bathroom and I heard running water. I heard it lapping against her. I didn't have to look in to know what she was doing. People stood in the hall watching me. I waved at them.

I walked Sarissa back to her dorm. She stood a foot behind me and constantly brushed the hair from her face. It was very awkward. So I told her this:

“Sarissa, I'm sorry. I have this problem. I'm a young person who just had a stroke. I don't know why it happened. I was just on the bus one day and I felt weird. I was losing control of my movements. I went to the hospital and they told me I'd had a stroke. I have to get an MRI in a few days. My movements have been weird ever since it happened. I dunno what to think. It's the reason I forgot to pull out. I'm sorry.”

She looked at me with the same expression as Mr. Jameson. In a shaky voice, she asked for my number. I gave it to her. She left very quickly without saying goodbye and I knew better than to not wave to her. I did watch her skimpy bare legs that were probably rug burned from their combo marathon with the couch and my hips, her shorts looking even shorter and tighter vanishing away from the lamppost and in to the darkness of Craig Hall.

Back in my dorm, police lights flashing out the window, I listened to the overweight RA telling the cops the story downstairs. I lifted the pieces of the couch and tried fitting them back together. My arms sagged. I thought of how much shit I would be in. I wondered if the school might even expel me (In trouble? Yes. Expelled? Not yet. Transferred to another dorm and made to pay for the damage? Yup.) I dropped the weight of the back half of the couch and lay against the wall, sweating and breathing heavily. For whatever reason, I couldn't lift it. My arms hurt and I felt weak. I was alone. I was drunk and about to puke. But at least I'd ended my dry spell.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/3vlwd6/college_freshman_adventures_part_3_sarissa