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Katie was my first real girlfriend in college – not the first girl I fell for, not the first I slept with, but the first one to call me her boyfriend. We met officially for the first time about two months in to the second semester of our freshman year, but I had known who she was since sometime in our first semester. I wouldn’t have guessed she knew who I was, but it was actually her that initiated our first real contact.
We were in the same Brit Lit seminar as first semester freshmen. The class had about a hundred students in a large, stadium style lecture hall. It wasn’t the kind of class where you really get to know anyone. Just about everyone in that class knew who she was, however.
Katie was, quite simply, gorgeous, in that wholesome All American, Jessica Simpson sort of way. Saying that most everyone assumed she was a blonde bimbo would be putting it mildly – “dumb slut” was the more usual term girls who didn’t know her threw around. But, as I would later find, she anything but a bimbo or a slut. She had the perfect hourglass figure. Large breasts (a 34D for what it’s worth), a firm, but not muscular, build, hips just wide enough to frame a perfect ass, toned but soft looking thighs.
She was taller than girls I usually go for, probably around five seven or five eight – tall enough that when she wore heels we stood eye to eye. At first I fell in to the chorus of guys who derided her as fake looking. Her hair was obviously dyed. Her breasts couldn’t be real – too big for her figure. She must spend all day in the gym. I bet she only fucks the football players, and has probably made her way through all the starters by now. The rumor mill was not kind to her. But I’d be willing to bet there wasn’t one of them that didn’t jerk off at least once that semester to a fantasy of getting in her pants. I know I did.
It was her ass that did it for me. She was a casual dresser, and the first time I can remember seeing her she was wearing cotton running shorts and a tank top. She was always dressed along these lines, sweats or track pants when it got colder, sometimes jeans. All of her bottoms were tight, showing off the round, firm yet soft looking, quality of that perfect ass. They also made it clear that she must be wearing a thong (further evidence to many that she was a slut – this was the late 90’s when most college girls did not yet wear thongs regularly).
It was her breasts that did it for many others. While it was still warm she seemed only to wear tank tops, some of which made it obvious that a built in bra could be the only kind she was getting support from. As it grew colder she could usually be seen in v neck t-shirts, sometimes plain old t-shirts, then, disappointingly, usually baggy hooded sweatshirts. The common assumption was that they were fake, but not because they were fake looking – they moved like real breasts, curved away from her chest naturally, and looked very different on days she seemed to be wearing a bra than on days she didn’t. Still they were proportioned to her waist like the breasts of a Playboy Bunny, and that was enough proof for most.
But in the end I would find that none of it was true. She was smart and interesting, mostly kept to herself, a far cry from a wild party girl, and never in her life hooked up with a guy she’d met at a party, bar, or anything along those lines. She did, however, I was lucky to discover, love sex. Nymphomaniac would be too strong a word, but only because she could control her desires. She was a serious student, pre-med. Even when we dated, I sometimes wouldn’t see her at all during the week, though she did have a few sex toys to get her through these stretches.
I honestly could not believe it when she showed interest in me. I was far from some dorky kid, but she seemed like one of those untouchable beautiful people. It wasn’t just her looks, or reputation as one of those slutty popular girls that only fucks the jocks, she was also a Xavier girl. My college had no sororities, but the Xavier house was as close as it gets. It was an all girl’s dormitory on the main campus that girls had to apply to get in to. The applications, and subsequent interviews, were conducted by the older residents of the dormitory, as well as the resident advisers and residence hall director – all alumns of Xavier house. The girls were also some of the most desirable to be found on campus, which also made them hated by many, and assumed to be sluts. Few of them were anything close to slutty, but many of them were pretentious bitches. Katie had a little of that side to her, but it rarely showed itself.
As a freshman, Katie didn’t actually live in Xavier house yet. She lived in the freshman dorms on the main campus, while I lived in the freshman dorms at the nearby satellite campus. Xavier house itself was near the freshman dorms on the main campus. She had gone to the open house the Xavier girls held in the first week of the spring semester every year, which introduces new candidates vivid porno to the residence / social club. I would later find out, quite surprisingly, that her motivation for joining was that she had not had an easy time making friends. Because people thought she was a slut, a lot weren’t willing to give her a chance. The ones that were lost interest when they found out she wasn’t a slut. As was their process, the Xavier girls let her know before the end of January that she had been accepted. There was no pledging or initiation, but they did have frequent activities to help make the new girls a part of the group.
One of these activities was the crush dance. The new freshmen girls would each invite two guys (or sometimes girls) they had a crush on to the dance, and the sophomores would do the same. This was done anonymously, with the invite list posted in the school newspaper and in fliers hung up around campus. Invitations were coveted for two main reasons: it was one of the few parties where there were guaranteed to be at least as many girls as their were guys; and Xavier girls were, for the most part, gorgeous. Most who had never been to one imagined it as one big hookup party, but in reality a lot of the girls gave invites to people who they didn’t even really have a crush on – either guy friends they thought could hit it off with other Xavier girls, or girls they were close with that weren’t in Xavier. Many of the invitations also went to the boyfriends of the many Xavier girls in serious relationships.
It was actually Joyce that found my name on the list. Adorable little Joyce, my closest friend at school, with whom I’d had a sexual relationship since about a month in to our first semester. I hadn’t bothered to check the list, not even really been aware of its publishing, and was shocked when she came up to me with the school paper and said, “I probably shouldn’t even show you this, but here.”
After a pause she added the question, “You’re not going to go to that dumb slut party, are you?”
Things had gotten kind of rocky with us lately. To start with, while our fooling around had gone no further than oral sex for the first three months (save for one drunken incident), we’d started having sex the first week back in January. Things had started to seem more serious, almost too relationship like for both of us. This had meant we both started distancing ourselves from each other, spending less time together, and sometimes only hanging out to fuck. Before this, we were inseparable, and the fooling around had just grown out of hanging out together. To make it all worse, she had been asked out, and said yes, by a guy I didn’t really like. I had reacted badly, with some jealousy, and we then had our first fight. The date was coming up on Saturday, the same night as the crush party, and we hadn’t so much as kissed since the past Friday, when she had been asked out.
“I don’t see why not. I have nothing else to do that night. You’re busy, Crystal’s boyfriend is around this weekend, and I don’t especially feel like just sitting around smoking weed and playing video games with the guys yet again,” I told her.
Her lips went tight and she dropped it. We watched a movie and she fell asleep with her head in my lap. The last time that would happen for quite awhile.
At first I was wary of going to the party. It wasn’t really my kind of thing, or the kind of thing any of my friends were in to. When we went out, it was to house parties filled with people we knew, or to concerts. This was basically a dance, almost prom like, at a nice bar downtown the Xavier girls had rented out. I’d need to wear a suit, which I actually liked, but I wouldn’t know anyone there, and I imagined most of the guys there being the stereotypes of douchey frat guys in college movies.
But then, when I got there, I was instantly thankful I’d come. It was a nice event, with fantastic passed hors d’oeuvres, an open bar of top shelf drinks that everyone was able to order without having to show ID. It was not crowded, and the music was actually good. Mingling proved surprisingly easy. I recognized a couple girls there, who then introduced me to those they came with. Everyone was surprisingly friendly, the kind of friendliness you only get at parties where either everyone knows everyone, or, as in this case, where you’ve all made an exclusive invite list. The girls weren’t wary of any of the boys; we’d all been hand picked by their fellow Xavier girls.
The girls looked incredible. Most of them were gorgeous to begin with, but they were dressed to the nines. The relative comfort the girls felt towards the crowd had removed from them any inhibition towards dressing sexy. These girls were not, by and large, club sluts, so they didn’t regularly expose this much flesh in public, and, on this night, they managed to expose it and still look classy. I looked around from backless cocktail dress to plunging necklines held up by spaghetti straps, woodman casting porno tight fitting strapless dress, short and flowy dresses, thin materialed dresses that exposed the silhouette of the flesh beneath in the right light, dresses with corset tops, and longer dresses slit so high you could almost see some hip. I could have retreated to the bathroom to jerk off after about ten minutes there.
And then I saw Katie Adams.
She had on a tight black velvet cocktail dress that came down to mid thigh – just high enough that later, when she hoisted herself up into a bar stool, I was treated to a flash of the lace tops of her stockings – with a back so low there was no way she could have a bra on. It was not especially low cut, but the material over the top half of her breasts, plunging down to nearly the bottom of her cleavage in the middle, was a beaded black mesh. She was proudly displaying her breasts for the first time I had seen, and damn they looked perfect. They sat high on her chest, close together, the lines where each met her sternum running nearly parallel before curving near the bottom and disappearing from view beneath the velvet material that screamed out to me to touch it and feel its softness with hers underneath.
I’d been dancing with the friend of a girl I knew from a theatre production when I saw her alone at the bar, facing away from me. Her perfect ass stuck out as she leaned forward to give the bartender her order, probably giving him a great eyeful of cleavage. The song ended just around the time that she spun around and we made eye contact. She smiled at me and the rest of the room melted away.
The girl I was dancing with was cute, and I didn’t want to offend her by shuffling off to another girl after we’d just done some rather physical dancing with one another. Luckily for me, she told me she had to run to the bathroom, and did.
I swallowed a gulp of my whiskey and soda for courage and started walking towards Katie.
The first words she said to me when I reached her were, “You know, I was hoping I could finish this drink before you talked to me. You wouldn’t believe how nervous I am.” There was a hint to her voice that she had already had a few, but not enough to yet be drunk.
“Nervous? What for?” I asked, stupidly.
She blushed and looked slightly down, “I don’t know… Well, I mean, I figured I should just tell you I’m the one who put your name on the list. If I didn’t you might keep on looking for whoever did and dancing with everyone but me.”
“Well,” I said, “then I guess I don’t need to introduce myself and tell you that I’m Michael Gorman?”
“No, but,” she stuck out her hand, “I’m Katie Adams. And is it Mike or Michael.”
“I like both ,” I grasped her hand, first with just my right hand then clasped my left around it as well, “so whichever you like. But everyone tends to go for the easy one and call me Mike. And I already know who you are.”
“I was worried about that. It’s rarely a good thing when my undeserved reputation precedes me.”
So she knew what people said about her. I tried to brush this off, “Anyway, it’s great to meet you.”
“Actually, we’ve already met, but I was betting you wouldn’t remember.”
“Seriously? Honestly, I can’t believe I wouldn’t remember meeting you, officially at least. I do remember you from Brit Lit.” She blushed again at that last part, and I noticed when she blushed it showed up mottled across her chest. Then I realized I should keep my eyes on her face, and was glad to see she’d been looking down again, so had missed my gawking.
“Well, we met.”
“On the bus between the campuses. I was headed to see a friend. You were coming back from a concert. Your eyes were about as bloodshot as eyes get, and half glazed over. You were coming back from a concert, which you very randomly started telling me about. I guess you had gotten separated from your friends and were in a state where you needed to talk to somebody, and I was alone. Then you started talking about Kurosawa films, which I guess was somehow related to the concert, but you didn’t really make that connection. You said you were headed to the Hardy stop, but got up suddenly at the dining hall stop and said, ‘Oh man, I need a grilled cheese.'”
This time, I blushed, “Ha, that’s pretty embarrassing.”
“No, it was funny. I thought you were cute. Only it was late enough that the dining hall was not open, so I guess that part could be embarrassing. After that I wanted to talk to you in class, but you never said anything to me, so I got all shy about it. I’m glad to hear it was just because you didn’t remember what happened.”
“Sorry about that. So this was first semester then? I wonder what concert that was.”
“Yeah, early October. You said it was the Jazz Mandolin Project. I’d never heard of them; I’m kind of clueless about good music, but then I checked out their stuff türkçe alt yazılı porno and it’s a pretty cool band. Between that and your careless demeanor that night, I guess I sort of figured you were a cool guy. So don’t blow it.” She gave me a purposeful, mischievous look, to make it obvious she was kidding. She failed to hold as it fell apart into yet another blush and grin.
At this point, I started to realize, wow, this chick really digs me. I grinned and asked her if she needed a refill. We got another round and talked more before I asked her to dance. I was nervous about it in a way I hadn’t been with the girls earlier in the night. I’m not a skillful dancer by any means, but I get by. I was hoping that was good enough. Thankfully it was, as she wasn’t a great dancer either. She could, however, move in a very sensual way, not grinding really, but a lot of very close contact. She didn’t mind when I slipped my hands occasionally down to her ass.
We had another drink and danced some more. I realized during the second round of dancing that I was now feeling a bit drunk, and she must be too. I also realized the contact of her hips against mine and her chest against mine had given me a full fledged erection. It dug into her leg and she smiled. I just hoped I could hide it when we had to break apart, but it wasn’t an issue as a faster tempoed song came on and we switched to dancing with less contact.
Suddenly, the lights came up and a voice announced it was last call. She wanted to know if we should get another round, but I said I don’t think we need them.
“Do you want to share a cab back to campus?” she asked.
“Sure, but should we wait for any of your friends”
“I don’t think so. Just about everyone who hasn’t left yet is going to be at the bar pounding shots until they shut it down. I don’t feel like sticking around, and I don’t need to get puked on in the car.”
We went to the coat check and I helped her into her peacoat. We caught a cab right away and shuffled in to the backseat. I told the cabbie where she lived, since that would be where we would reach first, but she said, “Maybe we should both just go back to the same place, then we can just split the fare… My roommate might be around though.”
I told her I lived in a single, and it was settled. I told the cabbie of the change of plans
She snuggled up against me, her cheek against my collarbone, her legs towards me, with on of her calves overlapping mine. I looked down and noticed the one leg coming out through the split in her coat. Her dress had ridden up with the angle her leg was at, and bare thigh was visible above the lace top of her stocking. There was a tiny red bow sewn in to the lace, and right above it I could see the garter clipped to the stocking. I couldn’t help but rest one hand on her thigh, just below the start of the lace.
She nuzzled in to my neck and I let my hand creep slowly higher, until it hit bare skin. She looked up at me and our eyes met, then our lips. My hand crept even higher as she turned more towards me, and I felt my fingers pass the velvet hem of the dress. I had my hand on her ass and my cock got instantly rock hard as it hit me that she had to be wearing a thong since I’d hit bare ass. With the material of the dress, she could have gotten away with fuller panties, but she clearly was prepared to look sexy with her dress off. I was prepared for this as well.
We broke our kiss off and her head went back to my shoulder. I saw the cabbie watching us in the rearview mirror, but I didn’t care. I am usually sexually reserved in front of others, but she had me so turned on I’d have fucked her right there if she’d kept up our making out long enough. It didn’t help matters that her hand had come to rest on top of my cock, and she gave it a little squeeze through my pants.
We finally got to my dorm building. The cabbie flashed me the smile of a dirty old man as I paid and we climbed out. Katie adjusted herself and I led her inside, hand on the small of her back.
I barely got the door of my room closed before my back was against it, Katie pressed up against me kissing me with a near desperation. I broke it off and unbuttoned her coat. Casting it aside, I grabbed her by the hips and spun her so that now her back was to the door, and our making out continued. He tongue danced around my lips, avoiding my own tongue at first, then circling it before she seemed to almost suck my tongue into her mouth, darting around it lightly with her own. She swung her thigh up, her calf around my ass, and I heard her shoe hit the floor. I grabbed her by the back of her thigh to steady her and proceeded to kiss along her neck, her ear, back to her neck, firmer now, down to her collarbone.
She smelled very subtly of a sweet, spicy perfume. something like Japanese ginger candies.
She pushed me lightly away, worrying me briefly before she said, “Is there another light in here? The ceiling light is awful bright after a night in a bar.” She kicked off the other shoe.
“On the desk,” I said. She started to walk towards it, he ass swaying, the soft velvet clinging to it.
After a step or two, she turned her head, not breaking her slow stride, and said, “Why don’t you get your suit off and take a seat.”
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