college memories...  

ivymonette696 46F
10 posts
10/26/2005 10:58 pm

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

college memories...

I had forgotten how frustrating it was in college to find a place of privacy to pleasure yourself, but had lunch with my "old" roommate the other day and we got to reminiscing...

I went to the University of Texas, and during my first year, I was extremely busy adapting to the lifestyle of college and trying to study as much as possible. I tried out for everything just to keep busy and prevent the homesick blues from coming upon me...chorus, volleyball, drama, study groups... The whole campus shifts from excitement and newness of the fall to almost just a murmur from January to March when the weather gets nasty and the northers are blowing through with their roll clouds.

My roommate was from Birmingham, AL, father a Baptist minister, very "correct" in appearance, but I soon discovered that her appearance was quite deceiving. She was 5'7", blonde, very attractive and extremely intelligent. This was somewhat of a contrast from surfer me, but we really enjoyed being roommates and she was instrumental in pulling me through more than one semester at UT.

We would sometimes sit for hours and tell each other stories of our upbringing and childhood. She was raised in a very conservative home in a conservative community with several brothers and sisters. She rarely dated in high school and envied the other girls who could just toss their hair or tilt their heads and get a date. She wanted to experience what she missed in high school and told me she wanted to lose her virginity during her first year here.

It wasn't long into January, after Christmas break, that Connie told me I had better find someone to room with Friday night because she was going to bring a guy back to our room for the night. I was a little shocked and she knew it from my wide-eyed expression. She just smiled and then said that maybe I had better stay with her all night in case something bad would happen. We laughed a little, but then she became serious and actually asked me to stay. I could tell she was scared.

We both were virgins and had absolutely no experience and could hardly give each other advice or encouragement. I asked her if she had even engaged in heavy petting and she shook her head "no" and looked at the floor. At least I had experience with some of the boys from camp while I was growing up and knew how to please them. Plus my experiences and guidance of my bestest girl friend in middle and high school at least made me more sexually aware than my roommate. But I was not going to tell her those secrets.

I pretended I had some experience with boys in high school and told her about the penis, the sensitive areas, erections, and ejaculation. She had book knowledge of all of this but was fascinated with my experiences. Then she asked me something that made us both blush. "How do you get it in?" I had watched my parents many times from the balcony, through door cracks, even from their closet. But I hadn't a clue of the details. My finger was the largest object I had gotten into my vagina but was I going to now tell my secrets about masturbation?

I can remember when I was sixteen and working on my second orgasm one night while reading my sister's "Fanny Hill" paperback. I had this tremendous urge to have something inside me, but I had tried my finger before and it was painful. I searched my bedroom for an object that might fit and decided upon one of those big Sharpie markers with the round ends, but I still hit it with an emery board to take any edges off. It was a good choice because it quickly became slippery and I soon had three inches of it inside me.

I could feel my vaginal muscles actually quivering around it and was amazed at the feeling. I moved the marker in circles and frantically rubbed my clitoris to an orgasm that made my body stiffen so hard I fell onto my side on the bed and clamped my legs together and then shook with each wave of pleasure. The house could have come down around me and I would not have noticed!

Afterwards, I lay there for about five minutes, still feeling little quivers and pulses around the marker, almost afraid to move. When I pulled the marker out, there was blood on it and then I became frightened I had somehow hurt myself and swore I would never do it again. Sure, that lasted only a couple of days and I found myself searching the desk drawer for the marker in a fit of desire and want.

Eventually, like most girls, I ventured my middle finger into my vagina and found the even greater experience of being able to wriggle it around, thrust it in and out, gaining a much-desired control over those wonderful vaginal stimulations. My orgasms were always more intense and satisfying when I used my left middle finger in my vagina and straddled my clit with the middle fingers of my right hand.

I masturbate the exact same way to this day. I looked at my roommate and just asked her point bank if she had ever had anything there before. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. We were both beat red with embarrassment and for me, arousal. I knew I was asking something very personal and erotic. It was like sharing experiences with my older sister, becoming very aroused, and then masturbating for relief.

She replied by saying that everyone does it, don't they? I shook my head "no" and she immediately called me a liar and we both laughed out loud. The ice was broken and we both admitted to masturbating at least three times a week and especially after dates when we were in high school. She asked me if I still do it and I confessed that I had not had an opportunity to pleasure myself even once here at school. She nodded her head in agreement. I told her about an associate professor that was handsome and exciting and always got me excited, but I just had to ignore those feelings because I couldn't find a private place to masturbate.

She admitted to masturbating once one sleepy afternoon in the room when I was away at class and the dorm was relatively empty. But she said the thought of being discovered almost overwhelmed the little pleasure she received from it. I volunteered that we still had not sorted out the details of intercourse and admitted I wasn't going to be much help and she should try to find someone who might have more experience. We laughed at each other's naiveté, but hers was a nervous laugh. My clitoris was throbbing for relief, but there was going to none in sight. My roommate seemed content in continuing our conversation and shared one of her "awakening" experiences with me.

Her father was a Baptist minister and they lived in a household with an extended family, that being her father's parents. Her grandfather had also been a Baptist minister in Georgia but decided to retire with his son and help him in Birmingham. So she was raised in a conservative, religious home, with brothers and sisters, and her paternal grandparents. Anything sexual or erotic was devoid from her upbringing so her sensual discoveries came from information supplied by her older sisters and friends. Her grandmother had arthritis in her hips and knees and used a heated, hand massager almost every night on her legs. As she became older, it was more difficult to use the massager, so she and her sisters would take turns helping their grandmother. She remembered on night when she was fifteen, massaging her grandmother's legs when she pushed up against the side of the bed and inadvertently pressed against the power cord attached to the massager. There was just enough vibration from the massager to course through the cord and against her pubic area that sent a gentle tingle through her pajamas and against her clitoris.

She tucked her grandmother into bed and went to her clothes closet to put the vibrator away wondering when she might have a chance to feel the full force of those titillating vibrations on her womanhood. It took several days, but Connie found herself in the house with only a younger brother, who was napping, and her grandparents. She sneaked upstairs into the clothes closet and retrieved the hand massager from its place on the shelf. She plugged it in and sat cross-legged on the floor and turned it on low. She was surprised at how much noise it really made and wondered if anyone would hear her, but the urge to feel those wonderful vibrations guided her hand, and the massager, down between her legs. As she pressed it against her jeans, a beautiful, warm feeling overcame her thighs and vagina, which made her gasp and lean back against the wall. The vibrations continued to awaken her clitoris and within a few seconds she could feel it throbbing wonderfully. It was a new feeling that made her weak and dizzy but she could not remove the pleasurable thing from the place between her legs. In another few seconds, she had unfolded her legs and they were stuck straight out and she was pushing against the wall uncontrollably. Then as she climaxed, she hunched forward, grinding the massager hard against her, rhythmically humping against it.

She said it first felt like she was going to wet her pants, but then she could feel jolts of electricity throughout her thighs and into her vagina. She had no memory of her thoughts and certainly denied anything erotic. She just climaxed from the outright stimulation...and this was her first orgasm ever. When everything subsided, she was sweaty and weak, but knew she had to get the massager back into the closet and get herself put back together before someone discovered her. She went into the bathroom and discovered a wet spot at the crotch of her jeans, her panties were very wet and sticky, and there was a strong, musky smell about her. Her lips were red and puffy and as she spread them apart to see if there was something amiss, she discovered a swollen, purplish-red clitoris, shiny with her vaginal juices. As she wiped herself, she could hardly let the toilet paper touch her there because it was so sensitive.

Both her grandparents died within a couple of years later and Connie made certain the massager found its way into their garage in a secret place. She kept it there all throughout her high school years and could sneak into the garage and feel the pleasurable vibrations urge her on into an oblivious orgasm at least once a week. During the fall, she would volunteer to rake leaves in their large front and back yards, making certain to take a break in warm in the garage...way in the back...hidden by the car and her father's tool chest.

Connie finished her story, which was frequently interrupted by my questions and thoughts. There was an awkward silence for a couple of minutes and I saw her flushed cheeks and knew we had excited ourselves and had nowhere to go. I told her that this was a time I wish I could find a place to my own because I was excited and frustrated.

She got up from her bed and said that she was going to do some studying at her desk, which was on the other side of her tall chest of drawers and would probably turn the radio up loudly to drown out the noise in the hall. Then she smiled, went to her desk, and did just that. I know it was my opportunity, but I had never pleasured myself with anyone other else in the room other than my older sister. Certainly Connie knew what I was contemplating, but there she was, head buried in her books, radio blaring, completely ignoring me.

I slipped under the covers and brought my hand up to my right breast and shivered as the warmth and anticipation struck me. I knew I was already wet, clitoris engorged and pulsing, and as I squeezed my breast and pinched my nipple through my bra, I could feel my vaginal muscles clamping down. I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans and raised my hips to ease them down below my knees. My wonderful aroma filled the space under the covers and I was beyond reproach. My right hand went into my panties and my middle finger was greeted with warmth and moisture. My clit was hard and within just a few strokes I was unconsciously humping my hand. My left hand went to my breasts and I alternated pinching each nipple.

I peeked open my eyes and found Connie still busy in her studies and was convinced she was honestly giving me full privacy. That was all I needed to continue with earnest, caressing and playing with myself, sending little twitches throughout my vagina. There is that time in which I know if I continue, I will not be able to stop, so I reached that level about three times. I was wiggling in my bed and arching my back, eyes squeezed shut. Then it was definitely that time, so I reached down with my left hand and buried my middle finger into my vagina. It went in easily and quickly and I quickened the strokes on my clitoris. Building up to that first crashing wave seemed to take forever and it was almost as wonderful as the climax itself. I let a spontaneous grunt escape as I felt my body tremble with pleasure. I imagined Connie, a young thirteen-year-old adolescent, discovering the pleasures of self-satisfaction, rocking in ecstasy to her first orgasm. My head bent forward against my chest and I drew my legs up and pushed my finger deep into my hole, my fingers barely moving against my clit as I felt pleasure seeping through me. The first wave subsides and I again quickened my strokes and wiggled my finger in my hole bringing on more pleasure. It was a long, intense, much needed orgasm for me.

I lay in my bed relieved and satisfied for about ten minutes and watched Connie studying. How could she do it? How could she be oblivious to me masturbating in the very same room? But then I saw a slight rhythmic movement and raised my head to see her right hand buried in her jeans and ever so slightly moving. I was fascinated at watching another girl masturbate and couldn't keep my eyes from her. Sometimes her movements were almost imperceptible, but then she would quicken and her rocking became more obvious. My hand slipped back down into my panties and my fingers straddled my still engorged clitoris. I was soaking wet and warm and my fingers slid easily from the top of my clit to my vaginal hole. I started slowly at first, paying attention to those familiar folds and sensitive places, pulling back my hood and exposing my clit, which was almost too sensitive by now.

Connie shifted positions, leaning back on her study chair and pushing her hips forward making more room for her hand and allowing better access to her clit. I have done this often and knew exactly what she was doing. Her left hand remained on the desk, holding a pen but doing nothing and I also knew she was trying to hide her movements from me.

Then she glanced over at me and say "hey!". I froze in my bed and she froze at her desk, and then turned the radio down. She said we were supposed to have our privacy now, so I said I would do some studying and she could use her bed.

She quickly took her hand out or her jeans and stood up to go over to her bed when I saw that her jeans were partway down and a tuft of blonde pubic hair was sticking out above her panties. She made no move to hide herself, but got into bed and under the covers and pulled her jeans down. I in turn pulled my panties and jeans up and strode over to my study desk, but not before turning up her radio. I looked over at her and she was lying on her back with her face towards the wall away from me. I could see a very obvious movement of her hand, stroking herself under the covers and contemplated watching her for a while.

I thought it too obvious so went to my desk but not before taking the hand mirror from my dresser top. I know, it was a violation of our trust, but I was literally fascinated by watching Connie and had already worked myself up sensually. I placed the mirror in a position that allowed me to watch her every moved, then slipped my jeans and panties down just far enough to allow access to my clitoris and pussy. There really wasn't a lot to see through the mirror because the covers obscured a lot of the detail, but I could judge by her movements how excited she was and watched as she stopped several times when nearing her orgasm.

She took much longer than I did and seemed to like building herself up and stopping right before the crucial moment. My fingers were busily stroking my clit and I wanted so badly to insert my finger into my hole, but it was awkward. I had to just be satisfied with fingering myself the second time. I tried to match her excitement and stop when she did, but she definitely had much better control than I and I found myself having to stop all stroking for a couple of minutes. Then her movements became much more pronounced and it was obvious by the outline in the covers that she had both hands between her legs stroking up and down with long, hard strokes. I tend to stroke in circles very quickly when approaching an orgasm, but Connie was taking deliberate, vertical strokes with both hands.

Then her legs shot up under the covers making a large tent, her feet up in the air, and then her head flipped forward against her chest. I could hear an obvious, audible growl as she rocked forward and backward, almost in slow motion in concert with the strokes against her pussy. Then she fell to her side with her back towards me and rocked a few times more, then stopped. That was it and I waited about five minutes to see if she had finished before getting up and going over to her bed. Her breathing was heavy and she was sound asleep!

I wasted no time and flopped onto my bed and frantically rubbed my clit and fingered my pussy to another crashing orgasm. I tried to mimic Connie's slow, deliberate strokes, but kept resorting to my quick circles and plunging finger. I did stick my legs high into the air only to let them crash onto the mattress, stiff and straight out as I climaxed. I guess we all have our ways for optimum pleasure and release. I too curled up to my pillow and fell asleep.

We both woke up to a loud crash of some sort in the hallway and turned to face each other at the same time. We both broke into a quiet laughter and sat up in bed to face each other. I had pulled my jeans back up, but they were unzipped and unbuttoned. Connie still had her jeans and panties down to her knees and stood up just a mere five feet from me and pulled them up. I was able to catch a glimpse of her pussy, which was still moist and somewhat red. She smiled as she caught me but didn't seem to care. She looked at me and suggested that we open a window to let a little air in. It was then I realized a definite musky odor permeating our little dorm room and I agreed. It would be more than obvious to any of the other girls on the floor to recognize that odor and draw a conclusion.

I roomed with Connie for all four years at UT and enjoyed every minute of our friendship there. We are still in touch with each other but live half a country away from each other, so unless one of us is traveling it's difficult to shedule a girl's day out. She was by far the most promiscuous girl I have met, and that can definitely lead to more stories and memories. Remember, she was going to lose her virginity that Friday night...that's what started the whole thing.


Redjeep91 57M

10/27/2005 9:14 am

Very erotic... Were you both wishing you could watch each other and feel the intensity that would have brought? Did you ever tell her you wanted to watch her or how turned on you got from her masterbating while you were in the room? I would love to hear more of your experiences! Drop me a note or send an IM. I look forward to hearing more from you!


swallowsdontspit 64M
276 posts
10/30/2005 12:49 am

wow, fantastic story and so well written! . better than fannie hill you have a future as an erotic writer. reminds me of sum college masturbatory (is that a word?) of my own. if interested, contact me 4 details...


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