[MF] That time I met an adorable, super chatty, kinda lonely Asian ROTC tomboy, ate her out for the first time, fucked her pussy and ass till she cried, and made her my sex slave for the rest of the summer.

At the tender age of nineteen, Annie had a throat like a goddamned blackhole and she knew how to use it. All the discreet blowjobs performed in the woods at church camp had not exactly transformed her into a dick sucking, but what she lacked in skill, she made up for in raw enthusiasm and the sheer, undisguised delight she took in swallowing my cock.

Combine that with an extreme tolerance for discomfort—nay, a desire for it, so long as it was in service of serving me—and some long summer afternoons would disappear between her lips, as I told her to take my messing shaft in her mouth and to keep sucking until I told her to stop. She could entertain herself for hours like that, teasing me into hardness, gagging on me and allowing me to force her face down until her cute little upturned nose was buried in my pubic hair and the tears dribbled down her flushed cheeks, until I finally rewarded her with a grunt and a thick load of cum, and the cycle would begin anew.

She never failed to thank me, and she would even stick out her tongue, a devilish gleam in her eye as she showed me the shimmering glob of cum balanced there, before gulping it all down.

Allow me to back up—no doubt you’re wondering what I did to deserve an eager, nineteen-year-old cocksucker.

Truth be told, I still wonder that sometimes. The whole story is rather long, so I hope you’ll bear with me.

This was the summer before I started my Ph.D. and I was experiencing a kind of freedom I hadn’t felt since graduating college—only back then, I had been frantically searching for a job at the high point of the Great Recession, and now, I had a lease signed on a studio apartment in a college town halfway across the country, and a future of wine-fueled literary debates and long nights in the library stretching out before me. The bridge the gap between my past life of odd jobs, and my future as a scholar, I applied for and received a grant for independent research at a large state school.

Coincidentally, I happened to have several friends in the university library awarding the grant. Nepotism is everywhere, I tell you. What’s more, a friend of mine in a certain government-sponsored language program managed to arrange for me a newly invented position for the summer—that of “Scholar-in-Residence.” I would be paid an honorarium of five-hundred dollars, plus room and board in the surprisingly nice dorm building reserved for participants in the program.

I specified I didn’t want to teach; in fact, I specified that I wanted to do as little work as possible in my role as “scholar-in-residence,” and we eventually settled on a deal whereby I would give three lectures, over the course of the summer, on my research, in one of the critical languages the government had offered funding for.

All in all, it seemed like a good deal to me. I had some money saved up, and combined with my honorarium and grant money, I had actually cobbled together a small fortune, in terms of academia. I was looking forward to an uneventful summer, enjoying a well-equipped college town without the hoards of undergrads filling the bars and arguing about their fake IDs.

Moving back into a dorm was a strange experience, after living in apartments for several years, both in college and after. Out of habit, I stuck a paperback in the door jamb to prop it open, as we’d always done in my own dorm freshman year.

I was at the end of the hall, and didn’t expect anyone to pop in to visit me, but I wasn’t above making friends. Most of the students in this particular program were ROTC, which meant they were perfectly nice, slightly dumb Midwesterners and Southerners, who made up for their lack of experience and intelligence with sheer enthusiasm. I would not have minded making a few gym buddies to spot me on squats, or having some pals to knock back beers with on the weekend.

Instead, that first afternoon, only one person popped by my far flung dorm room.

Annie.

All of five-feet tall (she would claim that once she measured five feet and half an inch, but we never managed to replicate those results) in her sneakers (those flat, hard soled Crossfit shoes Reebok put out a few years ago), she appeared in my doorway with a huge grin plastered over her face. She had braces, complete with the rubber bands, and I almost did a double-take—it had been years since I’d seen someone wearing those.

Her hair was cut short, in an adorable pixie cut that hugged her round face. She smiled so much, and so easily, that you’d be forgiven for not noticing anything else, but, pervert that I am, I took note of her thick, muscular thighs; her well-curved ass; her plump little tits the size of cupcakes, proudly displayed in her sports bra. Did I mention that she showed up on the way out for a run, and so, in addition to the sports bra, she wore athletic tights that left little to the imagination, and showed off her muscular, tanned tummy?

Annie was, she would explain to me before long, Vietnamese-American, and from California, which accounted for her deep-tan. Naturally, she was also ROTC, as her older brothers had been before her.

“Hiya,” she chirped at me, inviting herself in. “Are you the, uh—scholar-in-residence?”

I was indeed, I told her, and introduced myself. That sent her off on a whirlwind of a personal introduction: in addition to what I’ve mentioned above, I learned, in no particular order, that Annie was nineteen, had just finished two years of community college, was transferring to Berkeley in the fall, was majoring in the foreign language and literature I was scheduled to lecture on and in, worked out at least ten times a week, could deadlift two-hundred and forty-five pounds, weighed one-hundred and twenty-one pounds, loved anime, was a Christian (primarily Catholic but her family had experimented with Protestantisms of various flavors), was bicurious, did not feel comfortable talking about her sexuality with her parents, liked to read, listened to hip-hop while she worked out, could speak Vietnamese fluently, got yelled at by her parents if she used words or phrasing that sounded “Northern” to their “Southern” Vietnamese-American ear, had never had a boyfriend or a girlfriend, and, finally, that this summer would be the first time she’d be living away from her parents for more than a week.

Once I finally hustled her out of my dorm room, nearly two hours later, I felt as though I’d gone on a run with her. I took the paperback out of my door, and resolved to be more hermetic.

Of course, Annie had other ideas. She’d drop by at least twice a day—first in the morning, after her run and shower, to see if I wanted to come to breakfast with her. The first time she did this, I could hear her knocking at the other doors in the hall, asking the other ROTC kids—all boys—out to the cafeteria. Presumably, they all turned her down because she made it to the end of the hall, to my door. Even though I had nowhere to be that morning, I obliged her, more out of pity than hunger.

Then, later in the early evening, she showed up again to ask me questions about her homework. I was a bit reluctant, I admit—this felt dangerously similar to teaching, which felt like something I should be getting paid for, but I supposed Annie would get what she wanted either way, and so I invited her into my room once more.

Now, I learned more: she had placed far ahead of all the other ROTC boys in her class, and so the instructor was giving her more advanced materials to work on, which Annie quite liked. What she didn’t like was that the instructor didn’t have the time, dealing with the remedial needs of the rest of the cadet contingent, to go over the material with Annie.

Not that she really needed it, I soon realized, after working with her for about an hour. She had a strong handle on the language, and learned grammar and vocabulary quickly. She also had a good ear for the nuances of pronunciation, no doubt a result of her multilingual adolescence.

No, what Annie really wanted was praise and attention. It was a bit like playing with a little kid: she’d show me something, act as though she didn’t know it was right, and my role was to lavish praise on her. She’d squirm and giggle happily, and we’d perform the dance again, sitting on my bed with her papers spread out.

The next day, Annie visited me again, twice. I declined to have breakfast with her—I’d gone out to a bar the night before—but I did look over her homework as the sun set. I found I rather liked this cute little tomboy. It was like having an eager little puppy, if puppies got excited about grammar and idioms.

By the end of the first week, Annie seemed to feel we were about as close as two people could be, which was good, because I noticed that the ROTC boys ignored her, focusing their attention on the dainty blonde undergrads scattered across campus that summer. Which was their loss, because it was Thursday night when she, unprompted, started talking about her sexual experience.

“It’s, like, so hard, living with my parents. Don’t even think about bringing anyone home. If I even close the door, my mom will come in like it’s nothing—I can only masturbate in the shower or in bed once everyone is asleep,” she said, giggling.

“That must be hard.” So was I, a textbook spread over my crotch as I imagined Annie plunging her fingers into herself while biting a pillow to keep quiet.

“Seriously, it sucks. And if my parents find out I’m sleeping with anyone, they’d disown me. I’d go to a convent. For real.”

“So, I take it you’ve never…” I trailed off, letting her fill in the rest, which she did, eagerly.

“Oh, hell yes. No, bruh—” She called me this habitually, until she started to call me something else. “—I go to church camp a few times a year and then I’m like a total slut. ‘Cuz, see, I can fool around with people who don’t live near me, so my parents will never find out. But it sucks because it’s always, like, only once or twice and then it’s like—‘bye-bye, thanks for the blowjob.’”

“That must be quite hard.”

“It sucks!” she repeated, though her cheery demeanor suggested she was quite proud of her exploits. When I didn’t immediately respond, trying to focus on the bit of grammar I wanted her to understand, she nudged me. “Hey, if you wanna’ like… Ask me questions about stuff I’ve done, I’ll answer. ‘Cuz we’re friends, and stuff.” This came with a shy smile.

“Like Never Have I Ever?”

“If you want. Or I can just tell you stuff. I like to talk. It’s annoying, I know.”

“I don’t think it’s annoying at all.” That wasn’t totally true. I found it slightly annoying, but far more endearing than anything else.

“Really? It’s just, like, hella great to talk about anything I want with someone who understands and isn’t judgmental and stuff.”

“It’ll be easier, once you start at Berkeley next year and move away from your parents.”

“Hell yeah. I can’t fucking wait. This pussy is open for business,” she said, and grabbed her own crotch, making an obscene face. The moment passed and she turned over onto her belly, and prodded me with a pencil. “So. Ask me something.”

“Have you ever been with a girl?”

“Once. A friend of my cousin, at a barbecue. We all went into the woods to hang out and get away from our parents, and she said she knew where there was a waterfall, so I followed her. And you know what? There was no waterfall. But we found a quiet place and she touched me all over and then pulled up her skirt and I got down on my knees and licked her till she busted.”

“And did she lick you?”

Annie giggled and covered her face. “No. No one ever has.”

“Why not?”

“Oh, god, it’s embarrassing.”

“You can tell me.”

“Fiiiine…” she said, pulling her hands away and rolling her eyes. “A guy at church camp told me I was, uh, too stinky down there. And I’ve just been kind of shy about it ever since.”

“So, you’ve never been eaten out?”

We locked eyes and she shook her head.

“Nope. I mean, I want to… I always swallow and stuff, but… I mean, I want to…”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” I could see a blush rising in her cheeks.

“If you wanted, I’d love to do it.”

Her eyes widened.

“Seriously?”

“Mhm. Gladly. Take off your shorts.”

She started to, but froze. She had come from lifting at the gym and still wore her mesh basketball shorts.

“I’m a little sweaty. It’ll make it even worse. I can shower first…”

I wasn’t about to let her slip away that easily. Besides, there was something about her sweaty, muscular little body that turned me on even more.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a huge pervert. I won’t mind.”

“Good—‘cause I’m a pretty big pervert too.” I knew that she loved porn and hentai—it had only taken her three days to admit to that, and another few hours to elaborate, explaining that she loved hyper kinky, nasty stuff—the really rough kinds of porn that were becoming extra popular online.

It took a bit more assuring that I wouldn’t be grossed out, but, finally, she allowed me to hook my fingers into the waistband of her shorts and panties and peel them off her tanned thighs. What greeted me was a plump little mound, covered in a fine sprinkling of soft, dark hair.

“Oh, yeah, I’m not shaved or anything. I know guys like that but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” I murmured, and kissed her thighs. She gave a little whimper and kicked her shorts and panties off the rest of the way. For me, smell is a huge turn on, and I loved the way the scent of her musky little cunt drifted up to my nose even before I’d spread her legs.

“I can’t still shower, if you want.”

“You’re perfect. Spread your legs for me.”

She murmured something and obeyed me. She still wore socks, which I found extra adorable—she always took her shoes off before coming in my room, and her brown, muscular legs, capped off with a little white sock, made a beautiful sight.

Annie’s pussy was absolutely soaked. Her meaty, dark brown pussy lips were almost dripping and when I touched her, stroking them and spreading her to see the pale pinkness of her hole inside, she gasped, and the tight, brown star of her asshole clenched.

“I’m super sensitive,” she whispered.

“When was the last time you masturbated?”

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing… Earlier today.”

I leaned in to lick her inner thighs, nibbling them.

“And what were you thinking about? Or were you watching porn?”

“It was in the shower… So I wasn’t watching porn.”

I licked closer and closer to her pussy and Annie thrust her hips forward almost involuntarily. I cupped her hairy mound with one hand and eased her slit apart, sliding my tongue along her wetness and up to her throbbing clit. She whimpered desperately.

“What were you thinking about?” I asked, pausing in my teasing.

“You,” she finally admitted. “And you doing… really, really nasty things to me. I have a big crush on you.”

“Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Really filthy stuff.”

“Tell me or I won’t keep licking you.”

She groaned.

“Fine. Okay, well, I may or may not have snuck onto your computer to look at your internet history so I could find out what you were into… And I was really excited to find out we’re into the same stuff.”

“What kind of stuff, Annie? Say it out loud.”

“Bondage. Um… Rough sex…” Here, I began to lick her again and she gave a happy gasp. “Anal. Sloppy blowjobs. Domination. Sadistic shit. Fuck… Um… Spanking and whipping… Slapping… Gaping… Gagging… Choking…”

“And you want me to do all that to you?”

“Yes. Oh my god, yes.”

“That’s a good girl.”

She moaned.

“Oh, my god… If you call me a good girl, I swear to god, I’ll let you do almost anything to me… Can I call you something special?”

“Like what?”

“Um… I’ve found myself wanting to call you Daddy…”

“Then that’s what you should call me.”

I slid a few fingers inside of her, and she groaned, her pussy clamping down on my digits. She was amazingly tight—absolutely tiny. I spit on her asshole and pressed a finger inside her other hole too as I went back to slurping her clit.

“Oh my god, Daddy, I love that…” she whimpered. Annie dissolved into a mess of moans and squeals and it only took a few minutes before she was cumming for me.

I pulled her into a kiss, our first, and my god, but she was eager to kiss me, almost pushing me down. I slid a hand around her throat and squeezed, gently, earning another moan in the kiss.

“That felt so fucking good,” she whispered.

“Then you can look forward to more of that whenever you’re a good girl.”

She bit her lip.

“I want to be a really good girl for you, then.”

We established some ground rules. We discussed safety—I’d had an STD panel recently, and so had Annie, somewhat to my surprise, as part of a pregnancy scare in the aftermath of a particularly debauched church camp that spring. I gave her a set of safe words based on traffic lights—red would make me stop immediately, while yellow would make me slow down or check in with her, and green would assure either of us that everything was okay.

By that point, I couldn’t resist her anymore and I disrobed myself. She watched, biting her lip, having already gotten rid of her sports bra while we were talking. She opened her arms and legs wide, and I slid inside of her wet little cunt, allowing her to wrap her limbs around me and cling to me as I began to fuck her nice and slow.

She was ridiculously tight, and whimpered as I stretched her pussy out. It felt like my cock was buried in a velvet vice. Every movement I made elicited a pained or delighted reaction from her.

“You’re so tiny down there,” I whispered hungrily in her ear.

“It feels like you’re ripping me apart. You can go harder if you want—I like the pain.”

Still, I restrained myself. I had more I wanted to talk through with her. In between kisses, we discussed what I would expect from her daily.

I knew she’d be going running every morning, and so I expected her to come to my room to shower with me and serve me before breakfast. If she wasn’t sleeping in my room, I’d expect her to make a short video touching herself but not cumming for me—I controlled her orgasms from now on.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” she whimpered.

And then, she’d come to see me every afternoon after she lifted to have me correct her homework. I would also look over any other assignments I had given her. The first, I decided, would be a detailed list of all of her kinks and fantasies.

By now, I needed to fuck her harder or else I was going to lose my mind. I pushed her legs back and down, stretching them so that I was coming down on top of her, pile-driving my cock into her as she grunted. Her face contorted beautifully—her lip at a tendency to curl up as I fucked her, and her eyes filled with tears while her nails dug into my flesh.

“Please, Daddy…” Annie grunted. “Fucking destroy me. Beat my pussy up.”

I slid my hand around her throat. I squeezed. She gave an eager nod and I squeezed harder, and harder, and then, finally, I released her, letting her gasp for air before slapping her. She let out a happy sob and before long, I was cumming inside of her, my cock spasming deep in her sweet little pussy.

Afterwards, she clung to me, gasping, writhing in pleasure.

“You came so much…” she whispered. “I feel so full.”

I slid out of her pussy and took her by the hair. Gripping her scalp, I guided her face to my cock.

“Clean up the mess you made.”

She nodded eagerly, and through her tears, started to suck my flaccid shaft. I was hard again before long, and I slid a hand behind the back of her neck to press her face onto my cock.

“You’re going to learn to take me as deep as you possibly can like this,” I informed her, and she nodded eagerly. I began to bob her face on my cock and she gagged, retching when it slid too deep. When she did, I slapped her, and she’d give a sort of half nod, by way of a thank you. She was always gracious for the discipline.

“Have you ever taken it in the ass?” When her garbled response came, I slid out of her mouth to give her a chance to answer.

“No…” she said hoarsely, panting. “I fantasize about it all the time. It’s so, like… primal… And it hurts too, right? Sign me the fuck up.”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to hurt—”

“If it hurts, though, it’s like I’m serving you better, Daddy,” she said, taking my cock into her hands again. “Do you… Do you want my ass now?”

In retrospect, what we did next was irresponsible—in my, ahem, mature sex life, I’ve developed anal prep into a goddamned art form, and helped girls who shake with fear at the thought of anal turn into proper little butt sluts, spreading their asses and begging me to stretch them out, but here, with Annie, we dove in. Or, rather, I did.

I wanted to see her face as I took her anal virginity, so I positioned her bent over the back of a chair in front of my mirror. Her pussy was still dripping my cum as I spread some of her messy juices over her asshole, and then added a healthy dollop of personal lubricant, before applying some to my cock.

Then, I put a belt around her neck. I buckled it at a notch where I wouldn’t accidentally tighten it and completely strangle her. I tugged a bit and Annie followed the belt, arching her back and pushing her tits forward as she pulled back to keep from being choked too hard.

“This is so fucking hot,” she whispered. “This is like… Everything I’ve been dreaming of.” She turned around, and I swear to god, she had tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Daddy—I’m having so much fun.”

Again, what did I do to deserve this literal angel?

I instructed her to spread her plump, muscular ass and I pressed my cock against the tight ring of muscle. Annie breath came in slow, deep gulps as she relaxed, the ring of her ass pushing out against me and, finally, swallowing my cock.

“Fuck,” Annie pronounced. Her mouth dropped open and she stared ahead into the mirror, at me, as I skewered her asshole. “Holy fuck.” Her lip was curling and her legs starting to shake.

“How does it feel? Hurts?”

“Yeah… It hurts… It mostly feels weird… Like I’m pooping in reverse and I can’t stop it.” She started to breathe faster and faster as I went deeper. She gritted her teeth. “Okay, this really hurts.”

“Remember your safe words,” I said, gently, slowing down. My cock was still wedged only halfway inside of her and I was starting to suspect we wouldn’t get that much farther than that.

She hung her head and let out a sob, but then groaned: “Green. Fuck me, Daddy. Make me your little fucking bitch. Fuck me up. I don’t care if it hurts. Hurt me, Daddy. I’m all yours.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as I slammed my cock all the way into her ass. She started to scream but I cut her off, jerking hard on the belt and making her arch her back. I grabbed one of her tits, crushing her nipple between my fingernails as I took her ass, pounding it.

“Tell me how it feels,” I growled.

“It fucking hurts. It feels so gross. I love it. It feels so fucking good.”

“Who does your asshole belong to?”

“You, Daddy,” she whimpered. All this time, she kept her hands on her ass cheeks, keeping them spread. This treated me to the singularly lewd sight of seeing my cock sink into her ass, and then watching her little asshole distend as I slid back out, as though it were sorry to see me go and wanted me back inside, deeper than ever.

Since I had already cum once, I was able to hold on longer, finally blowing my load in Annie’s ass after fifteen or twenty minutes or so of sustained fucking. We were both dripping with sweat and her asshole gaped beautifully for me when I slid out of her.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, all but collapsing over the chair. I pulled her into my arms and cuddled her back in bed.

For a few moments there, I wondered if I had gone too far, too fast—Annie seemed exhausted and out of it, as though she were stoned. But a few minutes of gentle kissing and holding her close and telling her what a good job she’d done—this all brought her back and she was giggling and kissing me back in no time.

“That was just so fucking intense,” she told me. “It hurt bad but I kind of loved it. It was like a good work out, you know?”

When, later, I began working out with Annie, I saw what she meant. Not the benefits of a hard workout—I was already aware of that—but that she approached fitness in the same way she approached sex: no pain, no gain.

We showered together, cuddled some more. I remember I agreed to watch the first episode of Attack on Titan with her that evening, as a reward for doing so well, and we had a bit of my bourbon too. She was a giggly, blushing mess after a single drink, and by the time the credits were rolling, she was pawing at my cock, but I was exhausted myself—and I worried that I’d made her do too much, too soon.

So, I sent her back to her room to get some sleep, and told her to let me know if she needed to talk about what we’d done, or if she needed her Daddy to cuddle her in the middle of the night. I half-expected her to call me at two in the morning to berate me for taking advantage of her or, alternatively, to beg for more attention, but apparently she slept soundly, because I received, at 6:45am, a short video from her.

“Believe it or not,” the naked Annie on the screen told me. “I’ve never done this before. First time for everything. I know you won’t show this to anyone, but… Yeah. If I make enough of these videos for you, I hope you might use them instead of porn… Like, I could be your porn star. I mean, we can just have sex this summer whenever we want, but next year, when we’re not together in person, I’d love it if you still got off to me, Daddy.” She sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her legs up, spreading them, starting to touch herself. “Because I’m going to keep thinking about what you do to me… Fuck, my butt is so sore, Daddy.” She pulled her legs up farther, planting her feet on the edge of the bedframe to lift her ass up a bit, balancing there as she slid a hand beneath herself to press a finger into her asshole. She moaned sweetly for a few minutes, and I could tell from the way her breathing was speed up that she was getting close.

Then, she stopped completely. She regarded her fingers—the one that had been in her pussy, and the one that had been in her butt, and then shrugged and sucked both clean.

“I’m going to go running, Daddy. I’ll see you in a bit. I… uhm… I hope you like this video. I had fun making it. Oh, god, I really got close to cumming. Every time I thought of you watching me, I got so excited. Okay, if I don’t stop talking, I’m going to run out of time. See you soon, bye bye—” And she blew me a kiss.

Just as I finished watching the video, I heard a knock on my door. Annie must be done with her run.

I couldn’t believe my luck—this was shaping up to be an amazing summer.

Thanks for reading—if there’s interest, I might continue posting stories about Annie, both from that summer and subsequent times we’ve managed to get together. We’re not “together” now, but we’ve enjoyed reconnecting off and on over the last ten or so years. Particularly during the early days of the Pandemic, we played a lot on Zoom while reminiscing about the good old days when you could just wander into someone’s dorm room to get laid.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/102ls0b/mf_that_time_i_met_an_adorable_super_chatty_kinda