XXX College Erotic Stories – Volume I

by Morgan, Ginger

  They shook hands. Bishop left through the front door.

  Stephen passed through the hallway, wishing he’d had more time with his friend. His hands moved across the handrail, lead him up the stairs. He was unsure though as to Bishop’s blank expression. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

  Stephen stopped at the top of the stairs; something startled him. Quieting his own breath, he listened out into the hallway as a rattling noise traveled through the air. Moving forward slowly he heard the noise grow louder.

  “Hello?” he exclaimed. “Mom?”

  It was when he turned the corner of the hallway that he jumped in surprise. Oblivious to the world around her, his mother in the bathroom, staring into the mirror, repeatedly rapping her fingernails against its polished surface. She seemed to be searching for something, and he wondered with pain what it was.

  Tuesday’s Sun

  Jason had been living at his father’s home for less than three weeks before finding himself out of reasons to leave the house. It was his college break during semesters, and he didn’t have enough money to stay on campus. The free room and board was great, but the town was pretty boring. His dad had moved here during Jason’s freshman year of college, and he knew absolutely no one.

  It wasn’t all bad news though. Jason had always dreamed of writing a novel, and he decided to try his hand at writing during his break. He spent most afternoons chasing the sun’s path across the living room, while working on his book. His father traveled a lot for his job, so he was barely around.

  But despite the amount of progress, he found himself longing for companionship. It wasn’t like he’d had a girlfriend at school either, but he did have the occasional “friend with benefits” hookup with a girl he’d met during his freshman English class. With every day that passed, Jason became hornier. It was becoming a big distraction. So much so, that he could hardly focus on writing.

  Well, at least his father had at least found happiness, he thought. Jason’s dad, Bill, had been dating an English teacher named Samantha, who had been teaching abroad for the past few months. Jason hadn’t met her yet, but he’d never seen his dad happier. And, even though they had a strained relationship after his parents’ divorce, Jason was glad for him.

  Jason sat with his back against the lip of the sofa, reviewing the last chapter he had written. As he read, he started to think about his college fuck buddy. The last time they were together, it was after he and his buddies had been out drinking. He stumbled in to his dorm room to find a note on the door.

  “Dropped by to see if you wanted to hang out – give me a call if you are around later”, was scribbled on half a page of notebook paper. He had called her dorm room, which was just across the common, and she answered on the first ring.

  “Hey, it’s me. Sorry it’s so late. Do you want to hang out?” he asked. Of course, “hang out” was just a polite way of saying “fuck”.

  “Sure. Come over”, she said. Jason was at her door in about 30 seconds.

  She opened the door; he walked in, and pushed her against the wall.

  As these memories started to come back, Jason unzipped his shorts. His dick was already getting hard just remembering this.

  “Fuck me now”, she said. His fuck buddy was only wearing a bathrobe. There was nothing underneath it. He slid a finger in her dripping cunt and he thrust his tongue in to her mouth. Her robe was already half way open, and he quickly moved to her tits, sucking and licking them ferociously while he finger fucked her. She groaned as she came, writhing her body against the wall. Jason began stroking his cock as he remembered how turned on he had been that night. She unzipped his pants and dropped to her knees. She wrapped her hot mouth around his cock, and he thought he might lose it right there. He grabbed her long brown hair as she sucked his dick and rolled her balls with her hand. He didn’t want to come yet.

  “I want to fuck you so bad”, he said. She stood up, and he picked her up, with her legs around his waist. He fucked her against the wall, ramming his cock in to her tight, wet pussy.

  “Fuck!” he yelled at he shot his load inside her.

  Jason was jacking his cock hard now. God, it felt so good. He groaned as long strings of cum exploded from his cock. Jason reached over and grabbed a few tissues from the end table. He started cleaning himself up, when out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a cab stop at the front of his driveway. A woman stepped out, pausing before reaching back in the cab for her purse.

  Who the hell could this be?

  The driver unloaded the woman’s bag from the trunk, graciously took her payment and then sped off. The woman, looking out of place and blinded by the sunlight, strode up the driveway while dragging her bags behind her. He noticed the lightness of her movement as she looked from side to side, scanning the neighborhood around her. It looked as if she’d never seen this place before. It was when she twisted around to see the houses on the other side of the street – to check the address numbers, he thought – that he noticed the form of her body. Her figure was tight, and the shadow cast across her stomach showed him the supple shape of her breasts. She turned back towards his home and confidently moved forward again. He stared out at her through the window still, failing to realize that his own mouth hung half open.

  The bell rang.

  Jason jumped. He had been so caught up in watching her that he failed to make the obvious logical connection: that this woman whom he found so painfully attractive would soon be at his door, that in moments he would be face to face with this angelic creature. It was as if the window had divided them into two worlds, and had she even approached the window from which Jason looked out she would have not noticed him.

  He dropped his book and scrambled to pull his pants up and dispose of the cum-stained tissues. Not knowing how presentable he looked, he opened the door.

  “Hello,” he said as confidently as possible.

  “Hi, I’m Samantha!” she said with an open smile. She was much older than he had first guessed.

  The woman stared at Jason, holding out her hand to shake his, waiting for a response.

  “Oh!” he squeaked embarrassedly. “You’re dad’s girlfriend! He didn’t tell me you’d be getting here before him.” He couldn’t believe that this was the woman his father was dating. He reached for her hand, noting the smoothness of her skin. She struck him as so nimble, so full of life—so very different from the man who raised him.

  “Yes, and it’s wonderful to meet you,” she eagerly replied. “I’m counting on you to lug these bags in,” she said with a coy grin, and raced past him into the house.

  Jason bent down for her luggage. He looked back at Samantha as he slid his fingers through the handles, gripping the leather straps with what strength remained.

  He had just set down Samantha’s bags when he heard her call up to him.

  “You writing a book?” Her voice carried a mixture of surprise and excitement.

  He peered over the balustrade of the second-floor. Lying across the carper of the front room was Samantha, her knees bent and legs swinging in the air.

  “There’s something about writing that moves me,” he replied as he descended the stairs.

  Looking back over her shoulder, she said, “I wrote some short stories in college, but they didn’t really go anywhere… ” Her voice trailed off.

  “Why not?” he asked in surprise.

  “Well, I was studying at an art school in New York, and I just got distracted.” Jason’s interest was piqued.

  He felt the blood rush through his body. His muscles tightened, and he felt sure about one thing - he wanted his father’s girlfriend.

  Samantha cooked dinner later that evening. She set a place for him at the counter before the kitchen. As he was used to making his own dinner, Samantha’s presence was more than welcome.

  “Why didn’t you finish art school?” he asked after a few minutes. It was personal, yes, but he wanted to probe her.

  “God,” she said, wiping her mouth alo
ng a cloth napkin, “I was already in debt for tens of thousands of dollars, and I lost the inspiration for what I was doing.” She looked sad, as if recounting the death of a loved one.

  “I was given the opportunity to teach English in France. How could I turn that down?” He wasn’t sure if her question was serious or rhetorical. “Anyways, it’s not like I knew what I was doing, like you.” She looked up across the counter at him. Adrenaline coursed through his system. He found the sight of her eyes turned upwards towards him nearly unbearable.

  He laughed. “Like I know what I’m doing,” he admitted.

  “And what is it,” she asked, “that you want, Jason.” Her voice was steady and direct. It wasn’t a question, he realized.

  “I want,” he paused, searching for the right words, “to… feel… again.” He breathed heavily, his heart beating faster.

  Samantha eyed him quickly before letting her eyes track his muscular figure.

  “I want to take someone in,” he said finally, “and I want to be taken in myself.”

  He looked up from the floor. Her hands were placed a few feet apart on the counter, her body resting on her locked arms. Again he noticed the sumptuous nature of her body. Her breasts stood out against the smooth skin of her neck, and the bottom of her short-sleeve shirt just barely rose above her pant-line, exposing the lower area of her luscious, bulbous belly.

  Samantha turned to the sink and turned on the hot water. “I don’t know what to say, Jason.” She started to rinse off her plate. “I’m sure the girls at school were clawing over you.” She kept her eyes focused on the dishes.

  “Hardly, Samantha,” said Jason, as he stepped around the counter and into the kitchen. “The few girls I spent time with were just for sex. There was no relationship there.” He looked into the window opposite the sink. Already dark outside, the window acted as a perfect mirror. With a small light just above the sink, Jason could see Samantha’s nipples standing erect under her shirt.

  “I think what I need,” he said, as he approached her from behind, slowly tracing his fingers along the sides of her mid-drift, “is a woman who knows what she’s looking for. A woman who takes what she wants, when she wants.”

  Samantha exhaled slowly, a moan starting to reach up from the depths of her lungs. Jason could see in the mirror that Samantha’s eyes were now closed, her head tilting backwards as his hands moved under the waistband of her pants, the fingers of his left hand starting to drape across her pubic hair.

  “Jason...” she whispered, her hands gripping the lip of the sink, the muscles in her back tightening as she pushed her behind against his thick penis. But it was when he pressed the pad of his finger against her clitoris that she cried out, spun away from his embrace and hurried out of the kitchen. Jason stood in silence, terrified of what had manifested between him and his father’s girlfriend.

  You might be surprised how easy it is for two people to avoid each other given a large enough house. Jason stuck to the front room throughout the day, only to migrate to his room in the evening to write. Samantha, on the other hand, spent most of her time in his father’s room.

  Bill had emailed Jason the night that Samantha arrived. He’d apparently been called to LA for the week, and Samantha wanted to familiarize herself with the area. It sounded like things were getting serious.

  Jason dreaded his father’s return. Samantha and he had developed an easy pattern of mutual avoidance, and the arrival of his father would inevitably bring the two together again. What would happen then, he had no clue. The dread of his father’s return was more than motivated by the awkward situation between him and Samantha; at its base rested an incredible sense of attraction for this woman – his father’s girlfriend. And when his father returned, there would be no room left for Jason to pretend otherwise: she would be his again.

  It was the night before Bill’s return. Samantha had made up his bedroom – their bedroom – to suit her own eclectic needs: a yoga mat in the corner; a Kandinsky painting above the dresser. She found it hard to believe that she would soon be living with a man with such a corporate lifestyle. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attracted to Bill – she was – but that she wasn’t used to this kind of attraction. It was reserved, planned, and safe. She knew what Bill could offer her – a roof over her head, more than enough money for her tastes, and time. Yes, she thought, being with Bill was like having one’s life neatly marked out in advance.

  But there was Jason. He was an odd boy. She remembered how his eyes had weighed upon her that day they first met and how her ego crumbled before the intensity of his gaze. It was as if he were possessed by an older spirit – a grown man in a young boy’s body.

  “Young boy,” she laughed to herself. “He’s nearly 23.” Samantha realized then the degree to which she saw herself as an older woman.

  But Jason didn’t make her feel old. That’s what had struck her upon meeting him. His passion for literature and writing had cut through time, dragging up from the depths of her memory her own yearning to create. It was a dream she had once stood by with such fidelity… before abandoning it in the face of financial pressure.

  Samantha promised herself to not tell Bill what had happened on the first night between her and his son. She had let down her guard in the heat of their conversation that day. And yet…

 

  Knock-knock.

  “Oh my god,” said Samantha, startled. “I was daydreaming.” Jason was at the doorway to his father’s and her room, his hair cocked up in the front.

  “It’s getting a little late in the evening for daydreaming,” said Jason. This was the first time they’d spoken to - let alone faced each other - in five days.

  “True,” she said, playing along. Neither of them said a thing, him in the doorway, her on the bed.

  “Can I help you with something, Jason?” Samantha said in a rush, trying to hide her anticipation. Her toes played with a fold in the comforter before her.

  “Yes,” he said, “well, no.” His brow crinkled in confusion. “What I mean to say is, I’m sorry for advancing on you the other night. I don’t know what got into me.”

  She stared at him, analyzing his bod language, as he shifted his weight onto his left foot; and through his slight change of position she noticed an erection forming in Jason’s pants. Samantha’s toes grabbed onto the fold.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Samantha smiled and tilter her head to the side, allowing her hair to fall in the same direction. She caught Jason eying her now-revealed neck and shoulder-line.

  “Why don’t you come sit over here,” she told him confidently. “Maybe we can sort this all out.”

  I know what I just told myself, she thought, but seeing him in the flesh… I want him. And I will take him. And that’s what he said he wanted, isn’t it?

  Jason sat before her, eagerly looking upwards into her eyes.

  “You know,” he said, “I’ve been writing more. Since you got here, I mean.”

  Her heart lifted.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t talk about it…” and he looked away.

  “No,” she said, “I want to hear.”

  He continued. “Just that small amount of contact between us, that charged connection in which my hands found your body, and your body…” - he lifted his eyebrows - “… your body just seemed to take off.”

  “Yes,” Samantha said, as she slowly lifted her left leg and placed her foot on his shoulder, “and what else?”

  He threw his right arm around her leg, resting his hand atop her foot. He began kissing the lower-inside portion of her leg, only pausing to tell her more details about their affair.

  “I could feel your muscles quiver,” he said before kissing her skin a few more times, “and when you had your back up against my erection…”

  “Jason,” she said quietly, barely audible. He tugged lightly at the bottom of her pants. Running one set of fingers through her hair, Samantha quickly undid her button and zipper and slid her pants past h
er hips. Jason slowly removed them.