“I don’t want to talk about the Rock anymore. What are your plans tonight?”
“I just finished working out, so nothing of note. Are you partying for Memorial Day?”
“No, I have alcohol and a strobe light, so I’m gonna pretend my bathtub is a pool in Vegas while my roommates go out.”
“If you want company, I can shower and head over.”
“Shower here.”
I didn’t need telling twice.
I threw on something decent and tossed a bottle of Dewar’s into a bag just in case. Made the short drive to UCLA; it was my first time actually *on campus*, and seeing the sororities walk around, the groups of girls in tight dresses, made me slightly nostalgic for those raucous weekends of my youth, when parties began on Thursday and tapered off Sunday morning.
I parked and called her. She answered the door in nice baby blue shorts and very low cut tank and a grin. Walked upstairs, met her roommate, and we had small talk until her Uber arrived. It was an extremely cramped apartment – two bedrooms and four beds, practically no room to walk, and you could see through the glass into each other’s bedrooms. Must’ve made sex awkward. I wondered how many times they said fuck it and fucked in the beds next to each other, how many dreams came true for the other college boys. I was 27, the oldest she’d had.
“Let me show you my room and how small it is.” She talked about her major, ecological conservation, playing pool at Q’s after I leave, Ventura county. Finally, I asked if she wanted to shower with me, and she said, “Nope.” And simply kissed me.
She had a soft, sure tongue; everything about her was compact, actually, maybe 5’3 with nice Cs and a perfectly thick body, gym thick, not flabby or beer-bloated.
I had her fully undressed, shorts slid off (no panties, of course – and when she did the undie run and called me to come over later, she only had a robe over, and fuck, was that hot. but that was the second encounter, not the first, and more forgettable). I absolutely love precious, tight, small, pink pussies, and I tongued her until she was breathing heavy and moaning, thighs resting on my shoulders. God I love women.
“Okay, your turn.” She sat up and pulled at my shirt. When it came off, she said, “Wow.” Not because I’m ripped and chiseled with abs – it wasn’t Emma Stone’s reaction to Ryan Gosling in Crazy Stupid Love – on the contrary, I like food as much as I like working out – but because I have a few colorful tattoos that are not visible, and she was not expecting something other than a blank canvas. She caressed them – it was sweet of her.
I like all kinds of blowjobs. She fell in the slow and deliberate category, aiming for total lubrication, savoring the time. She supplied her own condom and got on for a ride. Ah, those hips – fingertips in my clavicles, gyrating legs. We fucked in a few ways, and during missionary, she had some screams; I’ll say it every time, but whatever angles I hit, I hit deeper than most, even though I don’t pack an 8+ inch tool like some. I’m convinced most guys are simply bad – and women back that claim up.
What stands out now is fucking her from behind. Her round ass, her hair in my hand, but her bed was so small that she had one hand pressed against the wall for support, and with every thrust she was pushing against the wall to give some extra impact. With gathering speed, she was short of breath, and eventually her hand slipped from the wall and her head fell to the pillow and her legs quivered and shook and she tightened around me and she let out one long sustained mmmm until the orgasm subsided and she twitched and looked back and smiled sleepy eyed and adorable.
I came twice in total, gathered my stuff, and we made plans for the next – after the undie run. She went off to Q’s, and I was tempted to go myself, since I love pool.
The second time was after the undie run – which, if you don’t know, is when students run around campus in their underwear. She called me and told me to come by – didn’t even get changed, of course. She said there was no point. She was smoky-eyed and high, both from a j and the run, and I’d had a beer or two while waiting. Suffice to say, she had trouble walking the next morning.
Tinder hasn’t always been good to me, but she damn sure was. Sadly, she hasn’t been down for another few orgasms since. Such is life.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/v4by45/that_time_i_m_struck_gold_with_a_ucla_girl_off