Chapter 5
Dear Diary:
One thing I wasn't going to do was cancel my date with Professor Roland. There was a lot still confused in my mind, but one thing I was not confused about was him. He had been kind, and offered me help when others were just shoving me back into the mire, to gasp and drown.
I felt better about having participated in the foursome in Melanie's room the night before. Still upset with myself over the complete discarding of all my previous beliefs, but at least now I knew I liked it, that it wasn't a filthy thing to do, that participating in such an act can be pleasurable. And yet, oddly, I felt none of those desires toward Professor Roland. Perhaps there was nothing wrong with sex, but it didn't make it always 100 percent right, either. And what I felt toward Professor Roland, the magnet that attracted me to him, was that he was good and right. And the two still did not mix within my mind.
My emotions were in a highly excited state; it was a happy compromise between the self-loathing I knew the old Sharon was capable of, and the lustful, eager Sharon, ever-desirous of new sexual encounters, that had blossomed into full bloom in such a brief period of time.
I threw a robe on and darted downstairs and heaped a lot of food onto my plate, then stared at it like an idiot. Professor Roland was going to take me to dinner! But it would have been rude to not eat what I had taken-at least some of it.
"Are we not dressing for dinner any more?" Connie said, eyeing my terrycloth robe, hanging lewdly open above my cleavage, but only accidentally, not by design.
"I fell asleep in the tub," I told her, semi-truthfully. She seemed to accept this, and fell back to eating. I munched down a few bites, then put my fork down and settled back. This piqued Connie's interest again.
"Is there something wrong with the food?"
I'm not sure, but it seemed she was trying to bait me. I wasn't going to let her. "Nothing, it's delicious," I told her. "It's just that I've been kind of -excitable all day. I don't have much of an appetite."
"SEX sisters find it very worthwhile to stay in shape, get lots of protein and minerals," Connie said, the cynicism thick in her voice. I wondered what was bothering her.
Then it dawned on me. Paul! When I had first entered the house, during rush, Paul had been all over Connie, and I thought I had seen them disappear together upstairs. Certainly she knew he would be with one of the pledges on that first night, during which they climbed to our rooms on ladders. Could it have been that he raved about me to her, or told her I was better than she?
Had he told her he wanted to have me again? The thought made the flesh deep inside my pussy crawl, and I pressed my thighs together in an effort to kill the feeling. I succeeded only in suspending it, and when I stood to go to my room, it returned.
On my way upstairs I wondered if perhaps I might be overdoing it, thinking that Paul would want to fuck me again. He was the president of KKA, and the best looking of them. Connie herself is a beautiful girl, and closer to Paul's own age.
Rational thoughts like that fled me as soon as I was secure inside my room, though, and I shrugged out of my robe and sat down in the desk chair before the full length mirror. Watching, fascinated, I spread my legs, splayed them obscenely, and looked into my gaping pussy hole the way a man might see it.
It was pink, beyond the crisscrossing intermingling of black cuntal hairs. The pink moved, as though it was alive, and glistened with moisture, as though that was the blood that kept it living.
I felt the deep interior of my vagina quivering and begging me to relieve it of the agony of disuse it felt. I put my index finger in my mouth and sucked on it for a minute, getting it very moist with a coating of my warm saliva, and then I dug it between the sizzling, hair-fringed cleft between my legs.
I gasped, partly from what I felt as my finger made contact with my burning flesh, and partly from watching my own finger disappear into the forbidden portal that I saw in this new way for the first time in the mirror.
Watching stimulated me to vibrate my finger against the lengthwise slit, and vibating intensified the pleasure with which I watched, until I was bringing myself to a delicious orgasm. I gushed onto the chair, and heard my ass jiggling against the moisture on the wooden seat.
I calmed down, allowing my breathing to normalize, and then found a tissue with which I wiped my pussy reasonably dry. I touched my body, letting my fingers linger over the firm breasts, flicking against the tense, rigid nipples, easing across my flat smooth belly.
I finally pulled myself away from myself, and away from that damned mirror! It was all a revelation. Before I knew I had been beautiful, but that had never meant desirable to me before. Now I was desirable, even to myself. To Paul, whose long, thick, expert penis had penetrated my virgin pussy for the first time, to the girls in the bedroom down the hall, to the boy they were balling.
Then I remembered Professor Roland again, and hurried into my most lively dress. And now, for the first time, I thought of him sexually. Not solely sexually, but I considered that he could be good and nice and sincere, and still have a stiff, throbbing erection around which I could wrap my fingers.
The thought that I could have the best of both worlds-have my cake and eat it too-thrilled me as I have never been thrilled before. I could have his intellect, his honest concern, his good heart and his sincerity, along with his cock, stiff and pulsating and ready to part my pussy lips and fill my vaginal cavern.
I combed my hair until it shone, and unbuttoned the top button of my dress, so more cleavage was exposed than I have ever dared show in public before. I walked quietly down the stairs, my bag over my shoulder, my nylons rustling against each other as my thighs rubbed together, sparking little electric shocks that made the inside of my pussy sing.
Connie was back on her couch (I've never seen anybody else there, so I must assume she has control over it), and she saw me, dressed up and ready for a night on the town.
"Going somewhere?" she said.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," I said. "Out."
Before she could say anything, as I could see she was about to, I stopped her and said, "Connie, I want to apologize. I was overreacting. Too much seemed to be happening to me, and the easiest solution seemed to be quitting. But I suppose it's true what they say, that quitters never win."
She smiled at me now, the way she had when I had first arrived at SEX. I beamed back, and went outside, where Professor Roland's car was parked at the curb.
He was leaning against the car, his arms folded across his chest. He looked so different, wearing no tie, a sweater, and tight jeans. He looked so much more like a-a man, instead of a teacher.
Before I met him, I turned and looked once more back at SEX house. In the window, I could see Connie's face; she was pulling back the curtain, making no effort to hide her observation from me. And even from the distance, I could see the expression on her face. Set and cold and determined. Melanie joined her in the window, and stared at me with the same cold gaze. A chill went up my spine.
I have since spent much time worrying about being here, about the health of these girls within their minds.
But, as for the rest of the evening....
Sharon entered his car, a sleek sports car, and nestled into the comfort of the leather seat. Professor Roland slid in beside her and gunned the engine. It purred like a kitten.
"How does French sound to you?" he asked.
"It sounds good. I didn't think this town was big enough for a French restaurant."
"It's not, but one of the few restaurants happens to be owned by an expatriate Frenchman. The food may not be marvelous, but at least it's authentic."
She laughed. "I want to thank you for cheering me up yesterday, Professor Roland."
"Dirk," he told her.
"Dirk." She tried it out.
"Now, isn't that easy?" he said, and she laughed again.
"Yes," she said. "And I like it."
He drove smoothly, turning deftly the many small corners of the small college town. One turn he took sharply, and Sharon slid in her seat against him, and she thrilled to the strong touch of his body.
After a brief drive they arrived in the main part of town, not much but enough for Sharon, who had not seen a store or a hint of night life since she had arrived at State. The thought startled her. Prior to coming to State, she had had little interest in the night life.
But there was no denying she was happy to be here. In the darkness this place shone like a Mecca, and life fairly teemed on its small, narrow sidewalks. Students trounced up and down the length of the Strip, some going into restaurants, and some into one of the movie theatres, some into one of the few bars. There were singles and couples, and all of them smiled, and it made Sharon's troubles seem very far away.
Dirk turned into a driveway, and Sharon saw the French restaurant and was mildly surprised. She had been to few French restaurants, but those she had been to were all rather fancy setups. This one looked more like a diner, and it actually boasted the gaudy name, Frenchy's.
"What do they serve here, crepe on a stick?" she asked.
It was Dirk's turn to laugh. "I know it doesn't look like much. But the food is actually the best in town."
She looked fondly into his eyes, impressed at his assured demeanor and comforted by the strength of his presence. "If you say so, Dirk," she said.
They went inside and sat at a table for two, covered with a checkered, stained table cloth. A light shone from an oil lamp, though, lending a romantic air to the tacky surroundings. It took on a certain charm.
'Take a look at the menu," Dirk suggested. But Sharon was looking around, suddenly nervous. It was a fair-sized place, and it was alive with people. And in the back of the room, at a table occupied by five letterman clad students, among them, gazing directly at her, was Paul Slaughter.
"Hey," Dirk said, touching her chin with his hand. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."
She looked at him and tried to smile, but couldn't. She didn't know why, but Paul's presence filled her with a sense of foreboding, a feeling of dread.
"What is it?" Dirk said, and then followed the line of Sharon's gaze back to Paul and his friends. "What is it, is he one of the ones who made you feel so bad yesterday?"
She nodded before she realized what she was doing, and filled with desperation. "No!" she said, trying to swallow the gesture. "I just...."
He put his hand over hers, and smiled at her. "Don't worry about it, Sharon. You're with me now."
She smiled at him, a bit relieved but still brimming with apprehension. To hide her foul mood, she looked intently at the menu.
The waiter came, wearing a greasy apron, and Dirk ordered tornadoes, and looked to Sharon. "Anything on the menu you want," he told her.
"Oh," she said, startled at his voice. "The salmon," she said, selecting the first thing on the menu she saw.
"A good choice," the waiter said, beaming, and taking the orders back to the kitchen.
Sharon's heart caught in her throat, as she saw Paul rising from his table, gesturing to his friends that he would be back in a minute, and not to interfere. "Oh God," she said.
"Don't worry about it," Dirk said, seeing what she saw. "I'll take care of it.
She didn't know how he would do that, but she had no choice but to leave it to him. What else could she do?
Paul walked slowly through the restaurant, weaving amongst the tables, until he stood before Sharon's table. "Hey, Sharon," he said, completely ignoring Professor Roland.
"Paul," she said, electing only to acknowledge him, and wait for him to say what he wanted to say.
"Out on your own, are you?" he said.
"Sharon's here with me, Paul," Dirk said, and Paul finally turned to him.
"Oh hi, Professor Roland. Imagine you out with a frosh. Is that legal? I mean, could you lose your job for dating a girl who just graduated high school?" Roland saw where Paul was headed, and decided to put a stop to it immediately. "What I do, and the consequences I suffer for it, are my business. Now, if you don't mind."
"But you don't understand, Roland," Paul said. "Sharon's my girl." He looked straight at her. "We've been intimate." Then he looked back at Roland, to see the expression on his face. "You know what I mean, Prof?" he said. "I mean I've had her hot cunt wrapped tight around my cock. Yeah, that's right. I came like a fire hose inside her. She can't be the kind of girl a teacher would want in the first place, but you wouldn't want to cut in on my action now, would you?" Sharon was certain Paul had just disintegrated her bond with Dirk in one fell swoop, but Dirk glared back at Paul, undaunted. "Now you've had your say, Slaughter, so I'll have mine. I want you to leave Sharon and I alone. I am fortunate enough to have you gracing the presence of my English History class, which you must pass if you're to quarterback State's football squad to glory this year. One fail and you're off the team. And get this, Slaughter. One word that images my reputation, or one bit of abuse toward Sharon, and I'll hail you with the toughest exam any student ever had in this school. Understand?" Paul wasn't ready for that, and had no set answers. But he looked directly into Sharon's eyes and said, "I'll talk to you later."
"You'll watch your step, Slaughter," Dirk said to the Greek's back as Paul meandered back to his table.
Sharon's food came, and when she was only a few bites into her meal, Paul and his friends got up and left the restaurant as a group. Paul watched her until he was outside, out of sight.
"I've never liked him," Dirk said. "Arrogant little prick."
"What he said ..." Sharon began to explain.
"It's not necessary,' Dirk said. "It seems to me, Sharon, you come from a rather sheltered outdated environment. What you've done or what you haven't done are of no consequence to me. I don't believe what somebody tells me about you, and I don't care that they've said it. And I don't care if it is true. You don't have to measure up to any expectations. I asked you out because I like you, which doesn't mean I like some image of you that isn't real."
Sharon was so taken with the sincerity of his discourse that she hugged him from across the table, her arms wrapping around his neck. She pulled his head close to hers, and kissed him.
The sensation of her moist, moving lips against his sent a bolt of electricity through his body, an electric charge that concentrated in his cock and made it spring to life. He had obviously done everything right, and he had her damned near to eating out of his hand. He was, indeed, sincere, but if it succeeded in making this voluptuously beautiful, innocent girl his for an evening, he would be a happy man.
Now she parted from him, and loomed embarrassed. "That was impulsive of me," she said. "I'm sorry."
He slid his chair around the small table to where he was sitting next to her instead of across from her. Their backs were to the rest of the restaurant, which was fast emptying.
"Not at all," he said. "I do understand the pressures a new student can find herself under. Especially a young girl joining a staid, stodgy old sorority." He put his arm around her, and squeezed her. As he felt her soft, pliable flesh press against his, molding to it, his cock throbbed agonizingly.
Responding to a newly unearthed instinct, Sharon put her hand on his leg as he squeezed her, near his thigh. She felt tension against the fabric of his pants.
At the same time, she found herself gazing up at him, into his meaningful, sympathetic eyes. Her slightly parted lips connected again with his, and she felt something forcing her teeth apart. It was his tongue, hot and wet and quivering, urging its way into her mouth. Her own tongue responded to its presence, sliding back and forth across the top of his.
His hand dipped to her breast, firmly supported in the cup of her dress, and he held it, forming his hand into its shape and testing its firmness, its pliability, its softness. It was all of those and more. She seemed indeed the perfect woman he had fantasized her.
She moaned as his fingers captured her nipple between the sheer folds of her dress and pinched it erotically, delicately, sending rays of supercharged heat through the mound of flesh from her chest down to her cunt.
Her responsive pussy did not have long to wait. His hand, guided by a willpower that sought only self-indulgent pleasure and conquest, traced from her delightful tit along her flat belly then down between her legs until he was touching the ribs of her silk stockings, beneath the hemline of her dress.
She gasped again as his fingers deftly wedged upward, tugging the lace panties down low enough that he could slip two fingers between the slick lips of her tight little pussy.
Her fingers danced on his back, her nails clawing into his back through his coat occasionally, stroking him and feeling him. She let her thighs slip apart a little, just enough that he could find easier access to the moist interior of her pulsating, throbbing cunt.
He took advantage of it, guiding his fingers inside her, feeling her heated wetness engulf his digits. The musk from her opened pussy drifted to his nostrils, and he was sure he would come in his pants if he did not have her instantly.
She must have read his mind, or so he thought. As he kissed her again, holding the back of her head, the thick, soft curls of hair, with his free hand, she unzipped his pants and fished inside for his blood gorged member.
It had grown so huge with desire that she found it immediately, thick and hot. He was sure he was about to make a fool of himself, climaxing intensely in the palm of her silky hand, but she grasped him by the base and squeezed. She wasn't sure what prompted her to do that, but it kept him from coming. And without the slightest regard to who might be watching her, she lay her head in his lap.
Her hands tugged at his meaty shaft base, feeling the tight, rough balls of pubic hair beneath them. Her lips parted, and felt the warm, spongy head of his cock between them, and she nibbled playfully and sucked, her lips locked behind the crown of his circumcised penis.
His hands burrowed in her hair, grabbing it in great tufts, as he closed his eyes and quivered and thought hard in order to keep from moaning out loud, attracting attention to his compromising position.
She sucked voraciously, hungrily, tasting the first cock she had ever had in her lusting mouth.
As her confidence increased, she took an inch of his pulsating meat into her mouth, feeling the curved head grazing the room of her mouth. Another inch, her lips pressing against his flesh-coated thickness, and she thought she would gag, but she didn't. Encouraged, she thrust her mouth down over the remaining length of his shaft, until her lips felt the same curls of pubic hair her hand had felt.
She lifted her head out of his lap, sucking on the shaft as she might suck on a lollipop, until only the head was back caught behind the cage of her teeth.
Then she dove again, swallowing him, feeling that head of his cock hard and living push down her throat.
She simply held her breath, and that made her mouthful of penis a pleasure instead of a pain.
She lifted her head and fell, developing a rhythm. Dirk still had his fingers inside her slick little hole, and he tightened them into a ball and held them there. Each time she fell on his cock, the motion made her move, and the stone he had created in her pussy jammed against her rock-hard clitoris, stimulating it to harden even more.
She came before he did, and the throes of ecstasy she felt surging through her only intensified the fervor with which she sucked his cock, awaiting the burst of white, sloshing semen from deep within his cock. She had heard girlfriends argue about it, the taste of sperm. Some had hated it, saying it made them feel sick, while others sucked every last drop of it they could from within the width of his meat.
Her hands curled his dangling testicles around, pulling and squeezing them, and she worked hungrily on his pulsating male member. Finally she felt his buttocks shifting erratically in his seat as he quivered and squirmed from the feel of his nearing orgasm.
It occurred with an intense abandon, Dirk rising off his seat and barely trapping a scream behind her gritted teeth. The jet of cum rose upward, surging forth from his testicles, and he felt it pass every centimeter of the length of his shaft, and he felt it separate the closed walls of his cock-head pinhole and gush outward, setting off only stars in his vision.
His cum poured forth, gushing into her mouth, and she swallowed as if it was a nectar of the gods, sweet and salty and full of life and warmth.
It slid down her throat, and she found she was among the faction of her old school friends who liked sucking out every last drop, and sucking for more even when there was no more.
When she had swallowed all the cum he was going to produce, she lifted her head and tucked his fast-wilting cock back inside his pants, and zipped him up.
He removed his hand from her dress, and she rose. Suddenly conscious of their surroundings, they looked around, but it was obvious nobody had noticed them. The waiter came a moment later to remove their plates.
"Sharon," he said, looking away. "I know you're a student and I'm a teacher, but I've had this feeling about you ever since I first saw you. It may not be right, but... I think I love you."
Her heart surged, and she looked deeply into his eyes. "I want to see you again," she said.
"Try to keep me away."
He paid their bill and he drove her back to the sorority house. Her head was in the clouds, lightheaded and dizzy from excitement and happiness. They kissed lingeringly in the car before she finally opened the door, a signal that the evening was over.
Still, they looked at each other and finally she walked up the path to SEX house. Awaiting her, she thought, was a long bath, soaking in hot water and beauty oils, and a long, dreamy sleep.
What was awaiting her, though, was something quite different.