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Let me start by saying that at times I can be rather dense – slow on the uptake, as it were. A classic case of the absent minded professor, only I’m not a professor. Not yet, anyhow. I have as much sex drive as the next man (at least I think I do) but, to me, there is a time and place for everything. If Cupid’s arrow comes at an unexpected time or from and unexpected direction, it will probably just bounce off my backside.
Such was the case about 5 years ago. I was a first year meteorology student at Penn State. Yeah, I said meteorology. If you are thinking “nerd” you would probably be right. Brown hair, hazel eyes (hidden behind glasses) and tipping the scale at about 160 I owed my physique more to genetics than to exercise. I wasn’t a virgin – there was the girl I took to my high school’s senior prom – we left the dance early, but she got home around sunrise. Let’s just say that I was in no danger of being saddled with “Hef” as a nickname.
By working for my father’s lawn care and landscaping business all summer, I had saved enough to rent a small studio apartment near the campus. No noisy dorm room for me, no sir! I would have a quiet place to study, relax and spread out. Yes, I know movies like Animal House glamorizes wild frat parties and pooh-pooh actual school work, but in the real world most of the “Animals” end up in a career whose greatest challenge is not burning the fries.
That is not to say that I don’t go in for a little “fun” now and then. After all Penn State isn’t a monastery. There were co-eds everywhere! The ones that weren’t looking for a husband were just looking for a good time. The ones that weren’t looking for either were looking to further some “feminist agenda” I would rather spend the morning listening to the rants of a Jehovah’s Witness than be trapped in a room with one of those!
And then there was the girl who lived right below me. She wasn’t a co-ed, she was a single mom. I had seen her more than a couple of times already. Our building was a four-plex – two apartments on each floor, each with its own outside entrance. Separate wrought iron spiral dikmen escort stairs led to each of the upper floor apartments.
Now, this is where things get just a little goofy. In this age of email, cell phones, and what not the girl who lived below me chose to get my attention by knocking on the ceiling of her apartment with a broom. Knock knock – knock! Three times, just like the old song. Corny, huh?
Actually, it took her a couple of tries to get my attention. Like I said, I can be dense at times. Also, I’ve lived in apartments before, and was used to “noisy” neighbors. Over the years I had taken a live and let live attitude toward noise – as long as I can hear my TV without blasting my ears out, I don’t make a fuss. Finally, the pattern of the knocks got my attention and I decided to see what was up, er down, um well you get the idea.
She answered my knock on her door almost as if she had been standing there waiting for me (which, in fact, she had).
“Hi, my name is Steve. I live upstairs and I was wonder why you have been knocking on your ceiling.” I said, in as pleasant and non-confrontational a voice as I could manage.
“Yes! Hi, Steve, I’m Sharon. You see my, um, well, garbage disposal is on the fritz and I haven’t been able to get a hold of the landlord. I thought you might be able to give me a hand or something.”
I am a sucker for a British accent and Sharon’s was just perfect – not too Cockney nor too “upper crust”. She had a matter-of-fact beauty to her that did not jump out at you, but was coyly hidden beneath her loose fitting, foppish clothes — there is just something about a woman who isn’t wearing a bra. If you ask me, making the bra optional was the best thing to come out of the 60s. She had a face that made Helen of Troy look like Phyllis Diller. Long, wheaten colored hair, straight, but not stringy, that stopped just short of reaching her shoulders. Her petite mouth whose thin lips were enhanced by understated lipstick balanced deep blue eyes that matched the waves of an unseen tropical emek escort sea.
Sharon led me over to her kitchen sink even though I could have found it blindfolded on my own – the floor plan of her apartment was identical to my own. When most sinks clog up, the water stays in the sink, this one was bone dry. This should have clued me into the fact that she was more interested in the plumber than the plumbing, or maybe she was more interested in the plumber’s plumbing!
“This shouldn’t take long, I’m pretty good with plumbing”, I said. I could have sworn that I heard her mumble lecherously, “I certainly hope so…”.
I could sense her presence close behind me as I used a flashlight to examine the sink and what I could see of the disposal. Surprise! Everything looked fine. I decided to see if the disposal itself worked. Holding the flashlight with one hand and balancing myself over the sink with the other, I asked Sharon to switch on the disposal.
“Try it now”, I said without turning to look at her.
It was then that I felt her hand reach up between my legs and try to cup my balls through the thick material of my jeans. I spun around, and found myself mere inches from Sharon’s face.
“Uh, that’s not what I meant”.
“Didn’t you like it?” She asked innocently, batting eyelashes. “Well, sure I did. Who wouldn’t? But I thought your disposal…”
She gave me a knowing look that said, you didn’t really think I wanted you to come down here and fix my garbage disposal, did you? I wasn’t about to let her know that I was so naïve that I did.
“Let me, please you. Please?”
With that she sank slowly to her knees in front of me. Sitting on her haunches she unbuckled my belt and unzipped my pants as I leaned back against the kitchen counter. My cock was rapidly becoming hard. Well, whose wouldn’t? She guided it carefully through the opening in my boxers and into her mouth.
“Well, if you… insist…”
She did. And it was obvious that this wasn’t the first time she had had a man’s eryaman escort cock in her mouth. Most women only think they know how to suck a man’s cock. Other’s don’t like the idea at all and only do as little in that arena as they think they can get away with. As I said before, I wasn’t a “virgin”, but my only experience with oral sex was with the first two kinds of women, those who don’t know how, or don’t want to know how to do it. Sharon was a whole new breed for me. She knew how to suck cock and, more importantly, she enjoyed it.
I cradled the back of her head with my hands as I fucked her mouth. Each time I thrust forward into her, her tongue would find another sensitive part of my cock to lick and tease. Feeling my hands at the back of her head she looked up at me with a devilish smile in her eyes.
Her hands gripped the backs or my thighs. Like I said before, this girl knew what she was doing and it didn’t take her long to bring me to orgasm. Usually, I have a good deal of self control and can stretch things out with the best of them. But, to be honest, this situation was so out of the norm for me that I just wanted to “get off” before she changed her mind.
Oh, and yeah, she did swallow. No, I ‘m not going to claim I came “by gallons” or any of that juvenile crap. All I know is that when I did cum, she didn’t pull back and she didn’t spit it out. In fact, she let my cock shrink in her mouth while still gently sucking it and licking it clean. Then she returned it to where she had found it, zipped up my pants and buckled my belt.
I took her wrists and pulled her up until she was standing next to me and we embraced. With her head gently resting on my chest, I whispered, “Thanks, that was great!”. She nodded her agreement.
“But”, I said abruptly with mock anger, “If you think I’m going to let you do all the ‘work’ and let me have all the ‘fun’, you are very much mistaken, my love!” With that I unbuttoned her jeans and with a single movement I sent them and her panties cascading towards the floor.
“I’ll teach you to lure innocent young college students down here under false pretenses!” I said as we switched positions. “Up on the counter young lady, I intend to give you the tongue lashing of your life!”
She giggle, jumped up on the counter and draped her long tan legs over my shoulders as I knelt down in front of her.
Ah, youth! It was just the start of a very long night!
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