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“I’ll miss you,” I said, “but you’ll be back in September.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” Brad responded, “nobody can satisfy me the way you do.” He leaned over me and started kissing my breasts again, concentrating on my nipples, trying to make them hard.
“Oh, Brad, I’m tired,” I lied. I wasn’t really tired, I was just getting a little bored with his love-making.
Dinner, a movie, and a night together in bed had become our routine week-end activity. When I first met Brad, he had excited me. He had a strong, take-charge attitude that I liked a lot. He didn’t ask me to go out with him as much as he had told me he was taking me out.
At the end of our first date, when he kissed me good-night on the steps of my dormitory, I had resisted him, just for form’s sake, really. But he wouldn’t be resisted. He held my body next to his and kissed me firmly on the mouth, using his tongue in ways I had never felt before. After all, I was only a freshman and not very experienced, sexually.
Then, on our second date, he took me back to his fraternity house and made love to me. He didn’t ask me, he just did it. He took my clothes off of my body as if he owned them, and me. He smiled appreciatively when he saw my thirty-eight inch, D-cup breasts. He kept on smiling when he pulled off my panties and saw that I was a natural blonde. He ran his fingers through the silky soft hairs covering my nearly-virgin pussy and I watched his pants develop that tell-tale bulge that tells a girl when she’s about to get fucked.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.