Thursday
Twenty-nine years ago, I was lucky enough to get admitted to a prestigious university in the eastern US. You’d know the name if I told you. The school’s colors and mascot and marching band are pretty distinctive, too. Twenty-five years ago I graduated and left that world behind.
But every few years I go back. My university is famous for its reunions. Every year, at the end of May and the beginning of June, alumni from all over the world return for a huge four-day party. There’s lots of food and alcohol and it’s great to see the old gang again. Of course, the university’s real goal is to extract money from us in the form of large donations, but I don’t mind. I’m pretty well off, so I’m happy to write them a five-figure check now and then.
The major reunions are the ones that end in 5 or 0: the 10th, the 35th, the 50th, and so forth. Some people come back for the “off-year” reunions, like the 17th, but not that many. But the biggest of all is the 25th.
By the time reunions start, most of the students are gone, except for the graduating seniors. Their graduation ceremony is right after reunions are over. And there are always a few freshmen, sophomores, and juniors who stick around to work the reunions. They’re the bartenders and the waitresses and the work crews.
All of my sophomore year roommates had returned for our 25th reunion. Even Rick was there. Back in the day, Rick was a good-looking track star with dark hair and a broad chest. While I was a nerd who struggled to attract a girlfriend, Rick left a trail of beautiful women with broken hearts behind him. I particularly remember one fantastic redheaded coed who had really noisy sex with him almost every night in January of 1989. The walls were so thin, none of us could help but hear exactly what was going on. We even made a drinking game out of it. Whenever she screamed, “I’m coming!” we had to take a drink … and we were all pretty drunk that term.
They fucked so often that Rick couldn’t concentrate on his studies and he ended up flunking out. She didn’t; she graduated and I hear she’s a minister now.
Well, that was 25 years ago. Today I’m a successful computer professional and multimillionaire. You’ll have heard of the computer companies I started but I won’t tell you the names of those, either. I married a woman in grad school, but she turned out to be utterly insane, and after 12 years I couldn’t take it any more. The divorce cost me a lot but it was worth it.
So here I am at the 25th reunion. I’m in pretty good shape, I must say, from doing 35 K a week running on the local trails and using the Nautilus machines at work. Lots of other guys I knew now have gray hair and beer bellies, but I could pass for 30, not 46 — even if I’m not Brad Pitt. Sure, I want to see my old friends here, but the real reason I come is for the women.
Man, the young women are just fantastic at reunions, especially the seniors. They’ve just graduated, they want to let loose, and there’s alcohol everywhere. What could be more fun for them than to have a fling with a stranger? A few good orgasms with no obligations. I remember my friend Melissa laughing about it 25 years ago — she called it a “zipless fuck”. She’s a famous actress in Los Angeles now. You’d know her name.
I checked in at the quad that was headquarters for the 25th. Lots of people walking around in school jackets. The young woman checking me in has “’15” on her name tag, which means she’s a junior and she’ll graduate next year. But she’s not my type, too zaftig for me. I like ’em thinner.
I saw a lot of my friends right away. There was Tim, who was kind of a nebbish in high school but grew up to be a famous playwright. One of his plays won a Pulitzer and ran for 5,000 performances on Broadway. There was Kim, who wasn’t satisfied with the biology Ph. D. she got after college and went on to get a law degree from Harvard. She’s now a patent attorney. And then there was Helen.
Ah, Helen. She was my only girlfriend back in those days, and I worshipped her then. She was tall and blonde and blue-eyed and thin — my favorite type. We met in our organic chemistry class — everybody called it “Orgo”. I helped her out a bit and in return she taught me some guitar licks. I ended up licking quite a lot of her, but it didn’t last long. She was pretty focused on studying and getting into law school. But we remained friends.
It may have been 25 years, but she still looked great. Still thin, very elegantly dressed, with just a few wrinkle lines around her eyes. Her shoes were designers and the bracelet screamed “Cartier”. I came up from behind her and put my hand on her butt. She whipped around and was about to slap me when she saw who it was.
“David!” she said.
“Helen,” I said cautiously. Did I mention she broke my heart 25 years ago?
“Good to see you,” she said. “When did you get here?”
“Just now.”
“Well, let’s talk later. I need to move the car — there’s no place to park around sincan escort bayan here! And I have to meet my daughter at her dorm in an hour.”
“You have a daughter that goes here! I didn’t know that. Well, listen, no problem,” I said, a little disappointed. “I’ll catch you later.”
I picked up my room key, signed the form saying I agreed to return the towels and bedlinens on Sunday morning, and got my wristband. With the wristband you can get into all of the different reunion tents, each for a different major reunion class. Some people, especially the graduating seniors, like to go tent-hopping and drinking, looking for the best bands. I’m hoping our reunion committee got some good talent for our tent — it brings in the attractive women who like to dance.
Some people stay at local hotels, but it’s much more fun to stay on campus. The students are mostly gone, like I said, so there’s plenty of dorm space for the alumni. That way you can stay up as late as you like and when it’s 3 AM it’s just a short walk to your room. Perfect for what I have in mind.
I don’t go for lots of preliminaries. I’m only here for four days, so I have to make the most of it. Not every girl’s going to be into a 46-year-old guy or a zipless fuck, but a few of them will. And I’ve learned to figure out who’s ripe for it.
Later on Thursday night the band was playing 70’s disco. She was young and tall and gangly, all limbs and blonde hair, like a colt just set free in a pasture — just the way I like ’em. She’d be too tall for some guys, so she probably didn’t get asked out too often. She reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite figure out who.
She was standing alone by the bar, swaying a little to the music of the band. From the way her eyes moved, just the tiniest bit unfocused, I could tell she’d already had a couple of drinks. She was a little sunburned and she was wearing a red tank top with no bra. The arm holes were large enough to give a nice glimpse of breast as she swayed to the music, and two inches of heavenly tanned stomach showed between the top and her shorts. With curves like that on display, she looked like she might be up for what I was interested in.
I went to the bar and got two drinks, and handed one to her.
“Let me guess,” I said. “You just finished your junior year, you play varsity volleyball, you’re on clean-up crew, and you’re majoring in art history.”
She looked back at me with an expression that was half-serious, half-amused. “Almost right,” she said. “I’m majoring in sociology.” She took a drink.
“Qualitative or quantitative?” I asked.
“Quantitative. You don’t know anything until you express it in numbers.”
“Damn right.”
“Now it’s my turn,” she said. “Mid-to-late-thirties, some sort of high-tech biz, pretty rich but not a billionaire, and you like the young ones.”
She had me pegged and I said so. Well, she thought I was 36 instead of 46, but who am I to argue?
“Bull’s eye. Nice to see that the admissions standards are still high. Are they teaching you anything you don’t already know here?”
She had that slightly amused look again. “I’m an eager learner,” she purred.
“Speaking of learning,” I said with a smirk as I looked into her baby blues, “I’ve learned a lot since the days when I was a student here.”
“Really,” she smiled back at me, and all I could see were her pink lips and white teeth.
“Yeah,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“Mandy,” she said.
“Well, Mandy,” I said, and I leaned in so no one else could hear. “I’m David, and this is what I’ve learned. I’ve learned that I can make girls like you come like you’ve never come before.”
She looked at me with that same slightly amused expression. I could see the wheels going around in her head until she came to a sudden decision. “Let’s go,” she said. Then she took my hand, and we were off, heading away from the lights and the music and the crowd and the rest of my 25th year class and along the path heading back to the dormitory.
I was so incompetent back in the day that I only had sex a few times when I was a student here. But since then I’ve matured a bit and gained some confidence and learned about what to do at reunions. Now I get laid every year I come back, although it’s usually not quite as easy as this time.
Once in the elevator I stared at her, and she stared back with those swimming pool eyes. She was about an inch taller than me, but she still looked a little tentative. I moved her hair aside and leaned in to kiss her, and at the same time my right hand reached into her top to surround her naked left breast. I used my thumb to stroke the nipple, which hardened immediately at my touch. She sighed and leaned her head back against the back wall of the elevator as I tongue-danced my way down her neck. “Mmmm, that feels really good,” she sighed. Too soon the elevator door opened and we walked out in the hall to my dorm room.
Once inside I stared at her again and she stared back. eryaman escort “Take off your top,” I said, and she looked directly at me as she complied unselfconsciously, lifting it up to show the most perfect pair of breasts I had seen in years. They weren’t big and they weren’t small. They were just perfect handfuls, each one topped with a very hard nipple like a pencil eraser. The nipples pointed slightly upwards, like a picture I once saw of the young Elle MacPherson. One in a thousand girls has a body like that. “Mmmm, delicious,” I said as I leaned in and took a nipple in my mouth, sucking, licking, and gently biting as she ran her hands through my hair. Her breath quickly became ragged. With my right hand I reached between her legs, feeling the heat emanating through her thin shorts.
“Oh, that’s soooooo good”, she moaned.
“Well, it gets a lot better than that,” I said.
We moved to the bed. She lay on her back and raised her legs high in the air so I could remove her shorts and panties. Those long, long legs seemed to go on forever as the thin material slid over them.
I moved between her legs, which were splayed on either side of my head, half on, half off the twin bed. How did people succeed in having great sex in such a tiny bed? I thought, but those thoughts quickly disappeared as I inhaled her musky, arousing aroma and began licking her pussy lips. I found her clit and licked, slowly, at first, and then faster until she was shaking and moaning and very, very wet. I did the roman alphabet with my tongue, and then the Greek alphabet. Then I started in on Arabic.
“I’m gonna come,” Mandy breathed. Arabic always works like that.
“I know you are,” I said with a wicked grin as I stopped for a moment and looked up at her.
“Keep going,” she pleaded, and I complied until she came with a shuddering orgasm. I could see the involuntary ripples in her taut stomach and abdomen. Man, she was in great shape from all that volleyball.
I was really hard. While she was still recovering from her first orgasm, I removed my clothes and my cock sprang free. She looked up and saw it and smiled. “I’m on the pill,” she said. “Come and fuck me.” I entered her in one smooth motion until I was completely inside. She was wet and warm around me. She moaned again.
“Your cock is soooo good,” she gasped.
“Yeah, I know it is”, I said, and grinned at her again. She felt really great, and the sensations of her cunt around my cock were absolutely amazing. Her hair smelled of honey and flowers and jasmine and her hard nipples brushed against my chest as I took her with long, slow strokes. I was rubbing her sides with my hands. She was already popping off a mini-orgasm or two. This girl was unbelievably hot.
“Faster,” she said, and I complied. “Yeah, yeah, do me. Do it to me. Fuck me. Ohhhh.” She had a way of purring that was driving me crazy.
I kept going, alternating slow shallow thrusts with long, deep ones. I’m not very big, just 6 inches or so, but women don’t often complain. I stared deep into her eyes. She put her arms above her head, and I used this as my cue to hold her wrists down as I fucked her. Some women like a little domination, and I could tell she was one of them.
We were on fire together, and I was fucking her really fast now, and she was moaning and gasping and then she was coming again, gloriously, and I was coming inside her as my cock erupted in spasm after spasm. Her neck and upper chest were flushed red and her hard nipples looked fantastic. She stretched out like a cat.
“Nice,” she purred.
“Very, very, nice,” I agreed.
“You’re right, you did learn something,” she said, and laughed.
My deflated cock was still inside her as we cuddled, enjoying the intimate sensations of flesh against flesh. We kissed and I stared into her eyes and got another a little ding of recognition. Who was she reminding me of? I couldn’t quite get it. But within a minute I was hard again. It usually takes a lot longer at my age.
“Oh, my,” she said, as she felt me grow inside her, and she giggled. “I wanna ride you now.”
We switched positions, which wasn’t so easy in the twin bed. Then she was above me in the cowgirl position, sliding oh-so-slowly up and down my hard pole, which was soaked with her juices and my come. It made squishing sounds that turned me on. As she moved, her tits bounced a little, but not that much. So young, so firm.
She raised her hands above her head in a languid movement as she glided up and down on my cock. “Mmmm, that’s gooood,” she groaned. She was slowly picking up the pace. I was happy to just let her do the work; but I did use my thumb to rub her clit as she moved up and down.
“I’m fucking you,” she stated matter-of-factly. She stared directly at me. “Your cock is inside me and it feels really big and really hard and really good and you’re fucking my pussy and you’re going to make me come again in a minute.” She must have scored 800 on her English SAT subject etimesgut bayan escort tests, no doubt about it. I wondered if she had advanced placement credit.
“Come for me, baby,” I encouraged, and I stroked her clit in double time. She came again and this time she made a keening sound like an animal. She collapsed against me and we both fell asleep instantly.
When I awoke, it was 5 AM and she was gone. Those twin beds just aren’t so comfortable. The room still smelled of sex and flowers. I reached for the light and saw that Mandy had left me a note. It said, “David, thanks for a good time. See you again on Saturday night?” There was a little heart drawn over the “i” in “time”.
Friday
Friday started with a panel about non-traditional career paths. One of my old buddies, Daniel, talked about his many years of travel as a blues musician. Now he’s teaching English and blues at the University of Alabama.
Then I went to a memorial service for classmates that had died. One was Martin, a hot-air balloon pilot who died trying to set the world record for around-the-globe ballooning.
By 9 PM I was ready for some action. The band was heating up and I danced with a few women that I knew from the old days. But I was waiting for Helen.
She showed up around 10, looking a little frazzled. We danced to some 80’s disco.
As we were dancing, I saw a sudden flare of pain cross over her face. “Leg cramp,” she said, and I helped her to a table. Taking off one expensive shoe, I rubbed and massaged her calf until the nerves calmed down. At first I was firm and strong but as she relaxed I changed my approach, caressing her skin with the gentlest possible strokes. The French call it “frottage”. I could see the fine blonde hairs on her arm begin to stand up.
“Remember that time in the library?” I asked, and I could see her blush.
It was the day right before finals our junior year, and I had been really stressed out from studying all day long, trying to master general relativity. She came by my study carrel.
“I’ve got something that might help you relax,” she said. It was very late and hardly anyone else was left in the library.
I shut the door of the carrel. “What did you have in mind?” I asked, although I knew very well. “This,” she said, and unbuttoned my jeans. She took my cock into her mouth and sucked it, making little slurping noises. It felt great, but I couldn’t take it too long. I pulled her up to face me and we shared a long and passionate kiss.
I turned off the light in the carrel. Now it was almost completely dark. I unbuttoned her blouse and I opened the clasp on her bra. I sucked on one nipple and then the other, and pretty soon she was breathing hard. The carrel began to smell of female ready to mate. She unsnapped her skirt and I was surprised to see that she had no panties on. “I’ve been working so hard there was no time to do laundry,” she explained bashfully. “No problem,” I said, and I really meant it. She hopped up on the desk and I put my cock up to her vaginal lips. We jiggled a little together until I was inside her.
I could tell she was trying not to make much noise, just whimpering a little and gasping. I got into a good rhythm. I couldn’t make any really deep strokes because the carrel was so small, but it seemed to be enough. She began whispering in my ear, “Fuck me, baby. Do it to me. Make me come. I love your hard cock. Oh, fuuuck. Fuck meeee!” I was doing the best I could to satisfy her, but it wasn’t easy in this position. She wiggled her bare butt on the edge of the desk as I stroked in and out. When I also sucked a hard nipple into my mouth she came in a sigh, and so did I.
“Do you feel less stressed now?” she giggled. All I could do was say, “Yeah.”
I remember it well, and so did she. But soon after our fun in the carrel, Helen dumped me for a football player, a guy much taller and better-looking than me. They were inseparable for a couple of years until the jerk left her for a model he had met in NYC.
Helen went on to law school and went to work for a public interest law firm. Then she was off to Belgium to study something about EU law and when she came back she was full of ideas about proportional representation and party lists. She ran for Congress and was elected easily. She married a rich lawyer and had one daughter in the early 90’s that I’d never met. I’d heard that she’d gotten divorced, but we hadn’t talked much in recent years.
Her calf wasn’t bothering her anymore. The band was heating up and we danced a few times more. Then we sat together in a dark corner and drank and traded stories. As we talked, she occasionally touched my hand, and flipped her hair, which was still long and blonde like the old days, even though now there were a few hints of gray. I was pretty convinced she was flirting with me, and I flirted back, finding an excuse to touch her hand or leg gently.
“You know,” she said, “I’m still a little ashamed of how I treated you back then.”
“Well, you should be,” I laughed, although to tell the truth it still hurt 25 years later.
She cast her eyes down and said, without looking at me, “I could make it up to you.” She looked up bashfully, but her eyes said something else.