Months of waiting means college GF will do anything to get what she deserves [MF][Long-ish][Mutual Masturbation][Watching each other][Finally fucking]

I turned the taps of the shower off and just stood there, drip drying, for an age. I’d been in here far too long, just running through the sheer impossibility of what I was getting ready for in my mind. Frankly, I’d hardly managed to do any real scrubbing; I was entirely lost in my thoughts. This day had been coming for weeks, months even, and I was no more prepared for it than I had been when she left. To hell with it though, I thought to myself, this was her idea. Then again, there’s no accounting for bad taste.

I inspected my own face in the mirror critically while I shaved, trying to find something there that a girl like her might be remotely interested in. Each drag of the razor deepened the mystery, as the shaving cream continually failed to reveal anything noteworthy. Maybe she just liked tall guys? I had that going for me in spades. That, and a lean frame were about the only things that sensibly played in my favor, and they still didn’t explain what *she* saw in me.

We’d met the previous semester in Statistics class and, against all odds, she had developed a persistent determination for the two of us to be a thing. I thought it was a prank, or a joke of some kind. You should have seen her. Five and a half feet of genuine, unrelenting beauty. Her hips practically demanded to be admired every time she walked into class, helped along by an ass that kept staring me directly in the eye. She dressed immaculately, always toeing the line between sexy and put together; lots of cute, flowy buttoned tops paired with dangerously tight skirts and scandalously short shorts. She was a walking contradiction in all, and she continued to boggle belief by insisting that we should get to know each other.

I was a great student; I don’t mind admitting it. I worked hard and applied a determined discipline to everything I did in those days. So , we did exchange numbers but the looming exam period and my conviction that she was pulling my leg meant that all we did was text back and forth for the first few weeks. Nothing obscene, no nudes or dirty messages, just good clean flirty fun. It was nice; she was smart and witty, and I almost let myself believe that it could be genuine on her end.

I tugged my trousers on (clean, by some miracle) and scrounged around for a recently laundered shirt, reflecting on just how long it had been since I had actually seen her. 4 months, give or take. I think it was 14 weeks and three days actually. Maybe. Who’s counting?

14 weeks since our Stats exam, and the one and only date we’d been on together. It was so casual, just a drink at the bar on campus to celebrate the end of term, but the gut-wrenching disappointment of learning she’d be travelling with her family all summer was crushing. Really crushing. I was really warming into the idea of carrying on over the summer. I told her as much, and was heartened to find that she felt the same way. We’d pick up in the Fall, she told me, right here. She’d be back in town at the end of August, and I was to meet her at that same table on the first Saturday of September for our second date.

And today, as I locked my apartment door and started bombing down the steps of my walkup apartment’s entryway, was that day. I’d heard from her precisely 6 times over the summer, each time by email, each time with a gorgeous photo of her smiling warmly from some beach attached. Two of them featured her in a barely-there swimsuit that made me ache to touch her. Her already-tanned skin had darkened considerably, and I spent hours wondering what tan lines might reveal themselves to me if I ever got the chance.

It was an effort not to run to the bar, I was so nervous. How did a man walk casually, knowing that a woman like her waited at the journey’s end? I thought I might be sick as I reread the messages she’d sent over the summer in my mind; I’d memorized them all, word for word. She couldn’t wait to see me, she missed me, the trip was nice but she was eager to get back so we could pick things back up where we’d left them. She’d even signed off the last two with “Yours, Mia”. My Mia. I could only hope.

My heart, having lodged itself at the top of my throat, beat fit to burst, or stop altogether, as I walked in and spied her there. She was at our table, legs crossed, brown bottle in hand already, long lashes framing dark eyes that casually watched something on the TV behind the bar. She wore a collared white top that was made of something vaguely shimmery, and the same tight skirt that had banded her generous butt the last time I saw her, with dark tights and dainty flats that kicked idly in the air. It was only by a herculean effort of sheer will that I was able to actually approach the table, find my seat, and make an actual sentence come out of my mouth. She rebuked me for not hugging her before sitting down, and demanded we correct the misjustice; she held me so tightly. I finally accepted that she might actually like me. I squeezed her to me, and the rest of the night, for the most part, passed in a blur.

We were at it for hours, catching up politely at first, before digging into the kinds of things that you want to hear from the person you’ve been denied access too for a whole summer. Eventually, we even drifted into admissions of longing, of mutual attraction, and the obvious truth of what was there to be found with one another. Our hands found each other across the table. We wouldn’t be here much longer. In fact, it was no time at all. She grasped at me insistently and told me to take her home. She was not talking about her home.

It was only a few blocks, and we were both tipsy. Halfway there, she pressed herself against me at a stoplight and clumsily pulled at me for a kiss, giggling so hard that her lips hardly found mine. She batted her eyelashes at me in a mock shyness and told me what was obvious: she wanted me. I stammered back an equally self-evident reply and we nearly ran the rest of the way to mine, flying up the steps and slamming my apartment door behind me. She kicked off her flats, demanding that I go wait for her in the bedroom. She had a surprise for me.

Not questioning any of what was in store for me, or whether she meant for me to wait for her before getting naked, a moment of clarity resolved itself just long enough for me to consider that she might need to be told where the washroom was. I turned back toward the living room of my small bachelor apartment to direct her (needlessly, there weren’t that many rooms to choose from), only to get shouted at; in the mere seconds she’d been alone, she had evidently shed her skirt. I didn’t see much before scurrying away, but the briefest of glimpses told me she had something strappy, green, and outright obscene on. I’d get naked and wait after all.

I laid back on my bed, patiently, trying to determine how to lay casually while nude, and wondering briefly whether I should have kept my briefs on. The internal debate was further complicated by the fact that I was entirely hard, and had been that was since she stopped to kiss me some 10 minutes prior. I don’t mind bragging a little bit because you’re under no obligation to believe me, but the erection was not something that was going to be easy to pose in a way that wouldn’t demand her attention when she came in. I won’t insult your imagination by putting a number on it, but the size had made it prohibitively difficult for all but one previous partner to actually ride at all. The length makes it fun to look at and swing around, but the girth borders on impracticality. I could only hope Mia was keen for a challenge.

I heard her padding toward the bedroom area and propped myself up on an elbow. She stole my breath and held it ransom in the moment she turned the corner, hands clasped behind her back.

The flash of green from my earlier glimpse revealed itself to be a matching set of the strappy and scant variety; an impish triangle of green lace struggled to stretch itself across her puffy mound, and paired straps rode low across each of her dippy hips to suggest an equally ornate backside. The bra, clasped in the front, squeezed her boobs in a way that nested most of her volume above the white lace that trimmed each cup. She had the most divine tummy I had ever seen, which a little pouch that promised I would enjoy kissing her softly. Her thighs and hips, already my favorite parts of her by far, spoke to summers spent at soccer camp. She was a vision, really, and I was a throbbing broom handle laying there with my mouth hanging open.

She bit her lip; she must have practiced that in the mirror, because it was entirely too sexy to be spontaneous. What did I think? I couldn’t find the words. I couldn’t find any at all. It felt illegal just to be looking at her like that; I couldn’t meet her eye, so I spoke to her collarbones and told her she looked amazing. She laughed, but it was cut off prematurely, truncated by some distraction. She asked me what the fuck that was, looking plainly between my legs. I told her, sheepishly, that I didn’t know if I should get naked yet, and she rolled her eyes, puffed her cheeks out, and blew hard in disbelief. I’d caught her off guard, but she swiftly recovered her composure, saying she was glad she’d brought a surprise along too.

I began to insist that the lingerie must have been the surprise, but couldn’t have been more wrong; from behind her back, she produced a wobbly red dildo that very nearly gave me a run for my money. I was sure, in that moment, that I would be getting pegged, and resolved to accept if that’s what she had in mind, just wanting to enjoy any experience with her at all. That wasn’t to be the case though; she told me that she thought it might fun to show me just how she had gotten through the summer, thinking about me, knowing what she wanted to do to me when we got back together. She started to wiggle the panties off with her left hand while alternating between kissing the tip of her toy and regaling me with accounts of the times she’d wait for her family to go out for the day so she could slip her little rubber friend into herself and moan my name into her pillow, and how nervous she was that she might get interrupted by a nosey sibling.

The little bottoms fell away and she stepped out of them, an inch or two of her toy in her mouth. She pulled it out to ask if there was room on the bed for one more, a thin streamer of saliva stretching from the tip to her lip. I’ll never forget that, as long as I live. I shuffled over.

She laid down beside me, and I craned over to kiss her while she rubbed the side length of her dildo up and down her slit absently. I reached a hand over and touched her midriff softly; it was so exciting to feel her under my hand after all this time. She whispered, asking if she could show me. I kissed her and asked if I could do the same. A devilish grin told me that was what she’d hoped for too, so I languidly began to stroke myself with a free hand while she casually started to work the tip of her toy between her lips. Her breathing came in soft, hitching gasps as she concentrated on allowing herself to loosen up, and I kissed at her jawline and neck to encourage her, whispering that she was so beautiful, and that I loved watching her. That was the truth; it was such a joy to be there with her after all that time, and I felt so special knowing she had chosen to show herself to me like this. She turned and pressed her forehead against mine, and gave a determined little push, slipping the length of her toy into herself with a whimper. She stayed like that, looking me right in the eye while we rubbed, stroked, kissed, and enjoyed the long-awaited intimacy of each other’s company. She whispered such sweet nothings to me while she played with herself, pausing to press her soft lips on mine occasionally. It was heaven.

I told her again that I needed her. The sight of her body moving and trembling so close to mine had driven me to the very brink, and I couldn’t rub my cock forever. The subtle ripple of her tits, still in the bra, and the little trembles in her tummy coupled with her furrowing brow line and curling toes had me melting. She told me that she wanted to fuck me now, and pulled her slick toy out of herself, bringing it to her lips for a taste. I joined her, licking the length of it and moaning softly for her. She obviously enjoyed that, and tipped it up to push it softly into my mouth, holding it there while she pried my hand off of my cock with her free hand to hold it in her own. Dirty thing that she was, she slowly rubbed me a few times while gently pushing the dildo in and out of my mouth in time with her strokes. I bobbed my head slightly for her amusement and she cooed in delight. I’d done well by her, and she was ready to take what had been hers for months already.

She swung a leg over me to straddle my hips, withdrawing the toy and setting it aside. I’d cleaned it off anyway. She swept her long brown hair over her shoulder and leaned forward for one last kiss before sitting back up fully. She told me, taking my cock in both hands, that I’d need to be patient with her. She’d never had anything bigger than her toy, and even that was a challenge sometimes, but I believed in her wholeheartedly. She sat her bare ass on my thighs and pressed me up against my tummy, as if to show me how unlikely the geometry of this was going to be, giving me a look that told me I was full of shit. She laughed in spite of herself and rose up on her knees, casually unhooking her bra and tossing it aside like it was somehow going to make her next feat easier, and I barely had a moment to admire her big, brown nipples before she unceremoniously guided my cock back to her lips, shaking them wetly between them a few times, and lowered herself a half inch. She took a breath, composing herself, and we shared a laugh. This was torture, but I’d be damned if I was going to let her know; having seen her naked, fucking herself next to me, kissing her lips, and touching her immaculate body had all driven me right up the wall. If only I’d known what a kegel was.

She took me, inch by inch, over the course of three or four minutes, bobbing up and settling down just a little further each time, clenching her her tummy each time. Eventually, it was clear that she was going to make it all the way down by sheer force of will, so she brought herself up to full height one more time, tied her hair up with an elastic from around her wrist, and leaned all the way forward to lay on my chest, lips next to my ear before finally sliding triumphantly all the way down onto me. It felt like coming home.

I did it, she whispered, giggling into my ear breathily. I put a hand on her lower back as she lay still there with me, using the other to pet the back of her head, confirming that yes, she did it. She lay here on my chest like that, without moving, and kissed my neck, cheek, and lips, slowly starting to wiggle her hips almost imperceptivity. I was so big, she said. I told her she’d done so well, and she responded to the praise by rocking back and forth just a little bit more. This was perfect, I told her, just perfect. She agreed with me, nuzzling her face into my neck and chest, wordlessly riding me in short, bouncing bumps that she punctuated with little noises each time. My heart continued to melt for her. It was all we needed. I explored everything I could reach while she rode, and she worked herself into longer and more rhythmic bobs up and down, eventually taking me from tip to base entirely with every bounce.

I told her I was close, and she begged for a few minutes more. I’d snapped her from some reverie; long minutes of wordlessness had passed but she became incredibly vocal now, and just a little obscene in a way that surprised me. She told me that she loved fucking my big cock and wanted to keep cumming on it (I wasn’t aware that she already had but was pleased to hear it anyway), and that it felt so good to have the whole thing inside of her, continuing to tell me that ‘it hurts so fucking good’. The sweet, well mannered girl I’d fallen for had been replaced by a desperately hungry woman hell-bent on riding me into oblivion, and I was honestly just happy to be along for the ride. Her utterances continued to intensify in tone and content until something about wanting me to bruise her cervix every day assured me that she was obviously lost entirely in the moment. Shocked at the things that streamed unendingly from her mouth, I wasn’t remotely able to hold back anymore; I took two heaping handfuls of her ass and began pushing her hips down onto me while she slammed herself back in time. I practically shouted that I was going to cum and began to do so, violently, as she bit down hard into my shoulder and did the same. I erupted for 30, 40 agonizing seconds into her while she refused to slow her pace, joining me in perfect bliss with a wracking, trembling orgasm of her own, moaning desperately into the mouthful of muscle she held between her teeth.

Eventually she slowed. Eventually she let go. She collapsed on top of me, eventually. She wiggled me out of her, still laying atop me, and I felt myself leaking out of her and onto my own tummy. Eventually she started quietly shaking, laughing quietly. I joined her, giggling riotously there together in a sweaty heap for a while until it was time to clean up.

She kissed me.

I kissed her back.

Were we going to date now, she asked.

Yes, I told her. I think we should.

So we did.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/12izvv7/months_of_waiting_means_college_gf_will_do