Freshman Dorm Panty RaidsBy Morgan Grayson
Beer, blue balls and acing an exam I thought for sure I'd fuck up are an awesome combination. Toss in listening to a few too many stories from my dad's college days, and Paul and I were a party just waiting to happen.
One of my dad's favorite college memories is of a good, old-fashioned panty raid. He and his buds ran through the girl's dorm, howling like maniacs, snatching underwear and getting an eyeful, then ran like hell with their trophies. After a couple of beers one night, Paul and I decided it sounded like good, clean, all-American guy kind of fun.
We made our drunken way across campus, the night air sobering us up just the tiniest bit, until we reached an ugly concrete building just chock full of virtuous freshman girls, their panties, and the sweet pussies therein. Paul and I pretended not to have raging hardons...I mean, we were after underwear, for heaven's sake. But for some reason, this seemed like the most wicked, forbidden thing we'd every done. (OK. I'll confess. We weren't all that exciting a couple of guys. It actually *was* the most wicked, forbidden thing we'd ever done...and how fuckin' sad is that?) We got in the building with no hassle, and snuck upstairs. We'd just cleared the door to the hallway, when we heard the deep, pissed-off voice of the housemother chewing some chick's ass for something.
Admittedly, Paul and I panicked. He dove left through an open door, and I dove right. I shut the door quietly, and leaned my forehead against it praying for my heart to stop pounding. Eventually, it did, and eventually I heard the warden stomp down the hall and away...and eventually it dawned on me I wasn't alone. (Drunken panic makes the brain slow.) I turned, gaped and narrowly avoided shooting a wad in my pants. She stood there, hands on hips, one eyebrow arched, glaring at me. "Uh," I said. "Uh...don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."
She actually laughed at me. "I'm not afraid, you asshole. I'm trying to decide if I should let you go or beat the shit out of you." I managed to put a sickly grin on my face. She was beyond gorgeous, about 5'10", very, very much the product of daily workouts, and probably could have put me in the hospital. I think I whimpered. "Uh, panty raid," I said stupidly. "It was just a silly panty raid."
She smiled at me, a kind smile this time, then pointed at the pale blue, lacy bikini she was wearing. (That and a high cut T-shirt were the only clothes she had on.) "Will these do?" she asked sweetly. I stared at her crotch, well aware that the precum stain was spreading across my jeans. "Uh," I said, probably several times. "Uh, yeah. Those are actually quite perfect."
She grinned and put her arms up on her head...pulling the T-shirt up enough for me to see the bottom of her high, round FULL tits. "Raid me, then," she said. I stared. I stared more. She was probably setting me up for the beating of my life, with jail time thrown in, but my fucking cock didn't care. I was on my knees in front of her in a heartbeat, my fingers moving softly over the material, intoxicated even more by the incredible perfume that wafted from between her legs. She smiled down at me, her nipples like twin bullets thrusting through her T-shirt. Her scent was so damn sweet, so musky and effected me like a drug. I pressed my nose against her crotch and just inhaled. She brought her hands down slowly and ran her fingers through my hair. Her touch was gentle and encouraging.
I slid my hands around to her ass, massaged her cheeks and worked my mouth against the front of her panties. Her cunt lips were hot and swollen, and the crotch of those heavenly panties was wet. I pulled her panties down past her knees with my teeth. The site of her neatly trimmed bush made me groan helplessly, and I dove forward with my tongue. Damn, she tasted good. She maneuvered us back to the bed, then lay back, grabbing her ankles to spread wide open for me. I licked and sucked her clit, gently fingering her cunt until she came. She came so damned big she had to clamp one hand over her mouth to keep in the howls. I just laid my head on her snatch, flicking it gently with my tongue, smelling that incredible satisfied-pussy smell.
Then Ms. Muscles moved suddenly and I was on the floor, my pants around my ankles, as she rubbed my balls with her panties and sucked the living shit out of my cock. My cock had never made the acquaintance of a young lady who posessed such extroadinary blowjob skills. She was a human vacuum. I had too look up a couple of times to make sure that it was really her mouth fastened on me and not some wierd sexual appliance she'd pulled out from under the bed. I exploded almost immediately, and it took me TWO hands to stay silent.
She kept sucking, I stayed hard...and conscious, which was even more amazing. She mounted me...just hopped right up on me and impaled that hot wet cunt with my aching, twitching pole. She gave an evil grin, stuffed her panties in my mouth, gripped my wrists and held them down and proceeded to fuck me though the floor. She screwed with more enthusiasm than any chick I'd ever known. Her hot pussy clamped down on me like a fist when she exploded. She kept cumming, her back arched, her teeth gritted, her eyes nearly rolling back in her head. I filled her cunt with my cum twice, then she jerked my cock hard again with a very demanding fist, and hopped on me again, this time impaling her TIGHT asshole. All I could do was lay there and bite on her panties as she pumped her ass up and down on my helpless rod. Her tits bounced happily as she fucked me, one hand rubbing her clit. Finally she was sated, and thankfully I was still alive. She got me cleaned up and dressed, tucked my souvenir panties in my pocket and helped me sneak out of the dorm.
I had honestly forgotten all about Paul, until I got back to our room and found him lying in bed holding a cold can of soda against his forehead, and another against his cock. "What the fuck happened to you?" I asked. He looked at me, bleary-eyed. "Roommates," he said thickly. "Two. Bi. Horny." I fell into bed laughing, and started writing a mental letter to my Dad.
© Morgan Grayson 2005
All Rights Reserved
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