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“Think of all the boys!”

With one line, my new roommate at my new college in my new state convinced me to attend a fraternity party on the first night of orientation. I was eighteen and shy, nervous at the prospect of “getting myself out there.”

“Don’t be silly,” said my roommate Priya, giving my carefully chosen outfit a once-over. “It’ll be fun.”

I looked into the mirror one last time, attacking the last pieces of my curly chestnut locks with my straightener. Lipgloss, mascara, and foundation all passed the test. I was as confident as I would ever be.

“Shall we?” I asked with an uneasy smile.


The smoke stung my eyes, and I blinked, trying to make out the figures in the dark room. The house was literally vibrating from the thump of the hip-hop beats pumped from the stereos. The dance floor, what I suspected the builders had hoped to be a living room, was crowded with scantily clad bodies gyrating en masse. So this was college, I mused.

Priya dragged me over to a group of people she had met at registration, and they began chatting. One of them handed me a red plastic party cup, full of beer. I eyed it, and him.

“Don’t worry,” he said, smiling.

That was when I noticed his smile. His teeth were the whitest things I had ever seen. They gleamed from under his perfectly full lips, radiant against his lightly tanned skin. Even through the dark haze of the house, I surmised he had spent the entire summer on the beach.

His eyes smiled with his mouth. They were dark, like a brown or hazel, but they sparkled, picking up the little light available in the room and reflecting it, almost magically. His dark hair was curly, not long, but not short. It flopped against his brow and looked disheveled, as if he had just awoken from a nap. I wondered if he always looked so heavenly when he rolled out of bed.

I realized my mouth had fallen open a little and I was openly staring — gawking — at the beautiful person before me. I quickly closed my mouth and shook my head.

“Thanks for the beer,” I said, motioning my glass upwards. I swigged a few sips to hide my embarrassment.

He laughed, an easy laugh, which did not mock, but seemed to find me cute.

“I’m Max,” he stated.

“Charlotte,” I sputtered into my beer. My God, this tastes like piss…

“Let’s dance…”

Max did not wait for my answer. A blessing, I thought, as I would have most likely muttered something incoherent and vague, still too taken by his magazine-gorgeous good looks. He grabbed my arm, but not roughly. I took a deep breath as I felt his warm hand on my bare arm. He dragged me into the mass of bodies and put his arms around my waist.

“I can’t…” I said, looking at him, terrified by the prospect of shaking my ass to the incoherent beats blasting from the stereo.

“Yes, you can,” he stated, flashing me another of his full grins. “Everybody can dance.”

I swigged down another huge gulp of cheap beer and swallowed hard. I inched closer to Max, breathing in deeply, and settled my hips under his. We swayed slowly, awkwardly, amongst the mass of our new peers.

Max pulled me closer and took control of our dance. We started grinding our bodies against one another as the filthy lyrics blared from the system. I lost focus of the others around me. I could no longer hear other voices or my roommate and her new friends cheering us on from the bar. It was just Max and I, legs entwined, arms linked tightly. We danced for what felt like hours, though it was probably only two or three songs of gangsta rap.

I looked up into his eyes. They were twinkling again. Where is this light coming from?

His face leaned closer to mine. He’s kissing me. Ohmigod he’s going to kiss me. Does my breath smell alright? He’s too cute to kiss me! Ohmigod…

His lips, mere millimeters from mine, were bearing closer, coming for me. I instinctively pulled my head back, too nervous to give in to the moment. He did not seem to notice…


The screams roared over the music. Instantly, all the lights flickered on and the stereos shuddered silent. Max jerked his head up and assessed the situation. I cursed myself for moving backwards. You idiot! I chastised my shyness.

“Come with me!” Max somehow detangled our limbs and dragged me to a door. The crush of underage bodies pressed against me and I was painfully aware of the number of people inside of the fraternity house.

“Drop your beer!” Max cried, looking at my bright red cup.

“It’s empty,” I mumbled, chucking it to the floor. It was crushed by a stampede of stilettos and Nike tennis shoes.

Max whisked me through the house and shoved me through the doorframe first. I clomped down the stairs, wishing I had worn some more practical shoes.

Priya had already exited the frat. “Charlotte!” she cried, and grabbed my hand. She dragged me off the lawn, making eve gelen escort a beeline for our dormitory.

I looked around wildly for Max once we reached the street. He had disappeared into the throng of underage freshman on the can-strewn lawn of the fraternity house…


I did not see Max during the remainder of the orientation. He had intrigued me at the fraternity party, more than a few stolen moments should have. We had not even kissed, for chrissakes, and yet…

On the first day of classes, I trudged into my First Year Seminar, a required small group course that “explored different themes of critical thinking,” according to the college’s website. I had chosen to “explore” the concept of genius — art, music, poetry, science, and the like.

I found a seat furthest away from the instructor at a long seminar table and sized up my peers. They were far from the genius I hoped to study this semester. A few were obviously only at college for the athletic scholarship alone. Others were definitely cheerleaders or sorority blondes already mooning over the D1 football “student” athletes. Two kids had glasses held together by tape. I rolled my eyes. So much for inquisitiveness and group discussion.

The professor was busying herself with the syllabus and the TA, so class was starting late. I had settled into my uncomfortable lecture chair, bracing myself for a very long semester.

I heard the door open right as the professor was about to begin class. I did not pay any attention. Another geeky or intellectually challenged student did not interest me.

“Is this seat taken?”

I responded with a noncommittal “nhmph.”

The newcomer grazed my arm as he eased himself into the seat to my left. The nerves on my forearm tingled, and I looked to see who had come in so late.


He flashed me another of his easy grins, signaling he recognized me.

“Hey Charlotte,” he whispered as the professor started her introductions. *clapclapclap* “Oookay! Welcome to your First Year Seminar!” The professor’s squeal sounded rehearsed and unsure. She was a newbie just like the rest of us. Super.

“Let’s just go around the roooooooooooom and tell each other who we are…” she purred. The jocks and cheerleaders rolled their eyes. “We’re going to be spending lots of time together soooooooooooooooo we might as well just get to know each other…”

My classmates mumbled their names one by one into their Styrofoam coffee cups and already chewed-up pencaps. They each said their name, hometown, future major, and “one adjective to describe you!”

I was surprised most knew what an adjective was.

“I’m Max,” said Max next to me. “I’m from Los Angeles, thinkin’ ’bout majoring in art…”

Explains the tan and the self-confidence. I gazed up at him and tried to erase the pure rapture I was feeling on the inside from my face.

“One adjective I would use to describe myself…hmm, how about…inspired!”

He could inspire me any day. Preferably in my loft while Priya was in chem lab. In any position.

“Next?” My professor snapped me out of my reverie.

“I’m Charlotte,” I half-whispered.

“I can’t hear you!” chimed my bubbly professor.

“I’m Charlotte!” I mustered some courage to speak louder. Max leaned against his elbow, perched to take a closer look at me. I wished I had brushed my hair.

“I’m from Iowa…you’ve never heard of the town, and I’d like to major in political science.”

I could see Max’s grin spreading honey-slow on his gorgeous face.

“Your adjective, Charlotte?”


“Good. Next!” piped my professor.

I did not hear the remainder of the introductions. Max started writing me notes on a scrap piece of notebook paper.

What a bunch of losers, he scrawled in a nearly illegible script.

Max was writing me notes in class, deeming me “cool” enough to be more approachable than the losers. I picked up my pen and scribbled back a reply. Do you think we’ll be doing any real discussing this semester?

With these guys? Max lifted his pen and gestured around the room. Not a chance.

I froze, unsure of how to respond. I have always been socially awkward, but around a Sex God like Max, I was rendered speechless.

He sensed my awkwardness and resumed our written conversation.

So you’re an idealist, eh?


I am such a wit.

What does that mean?

I want to change the world.

Through political science?

Can you think of a better way? Access to the world’s leaders, a whole constituency to help inspire me, ability to make laws…

Okay. Cool.

Why art?

I want to change the world.

Through art? I smirked at him. I want to inspire and motivate. I want to think and have people think along with me.

He began to doodle in his notebook. I watched intently as he sketched the outline of a face. He drew straight hair, messy and shoulder-length, paying special fatih escort attention to stray curly bits that had escaped the straightener. He scratched out two almondish eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and a smile that seemed timid.

Max continued to fill in the sketch, taking up nearly the entirety of his notebook page. I blushed and knew my entire face was beet red, up to the very part on my scalp. I had never had anybody look at me so inquisitively, especially somebody I barely knew.

What do you think? He wrote on the side of the drawing. I think you’re very talented.

You’re just saying that because it’s you.

No! I buried my head in my hands.

Max chuckled and brushed my exposed forearm. Whatever. He drew a smiley face next to his words so I knew he was joking, just to see me turn redder.

“Sooooooooooooooooo I’ll see you all Wednesday, then,” said my professor, and my classmates packed their notebooks and day planners into their stylish messenger bags. “Read chapters one, two, and three of the Smith text, and write a summary and discussion points to bring to class!” Collective groan.

Max sprang from his seat. I could not believe the hour had flown by so quickly. Part of me did not want it to end because I enjoyed sitting next to him so much.

“See you next time,” he said with a wink. And then he strode out of the room before I could close my notebook.



Priya hurried across the campus green towards me. Our first First Year Seminars had just let out, and she looked ready to dish.

“How was class?” I asked as we strolled down the grassy knoll of our academic quad.

“Lame!” she threw her head back dramatically. “And I have class all day. No time for lunch! No time for boy gossip! No time for anything, anything at all.” She sighed, weighed down by the burdens of her responsibilities.

“When will I see you again?” Out of the room all day? My heart skipped a beat.

“Never!” She giggled, realizing the extent of her dramatics. “I’m off to Chemistry, then I’m going to grab a bite to eat, hit up my chemistry lab right after, then physics, a meeting with my academic advisor, group project meeting, yoga, dinner… I should be back around six or so.”

The room to myself! All day long! I glanced at my watch. Eleven a.m.

I felt a twinge of electricity emanating from my clit. The “stress” of my first college course and the intense sexual tension between Max and I needed to be released.

I airkissed my roommate goodbye and headed back to my dorm. I nearly ran up the steps of the ancient stone building, ecstatic for some much-needed solo time.

I closed my heavy door behind me and engaged the deadbolt as I breathed a long, deep sigh of relief.


Not how I expected my first collegiate sexual experience to unfold.

I unconsciously brushed the spot on my arm he had touched as he eased himself into the chair next to me. My hairs stood on end as I remembered staring up into his eyes.

I moved swiftly towards my dresser and rummaged around my underwear drawer. My hand grazed a piece of cool, ribbed plastic.

I pulled out my prize. At seven inches long and a few inches thick, my dildo was the perfect sex toy. The packaging proclaimed it was “ribbed for her pleasure!” The ridges alternated between thick and thin bands, smoothing out before the tapered end that curved ever so slightly. The curve culminated in a rotating bulb, like an electric toothbrush, that perfectly kissed and tickled my G-spot.

I stroked the length of the pearlescent purple shaft. Images of Max’s smile and his delightfully radiant eyes flashed through my mind.

I threw the dildo onto my bed and stripped. I threw my tight black polo I always left unbuttoned (maximizes casual flashes of cleavage) onto the floor and shimmied out of my jeans. I was unhinging my front-clasp bra when I caught my reflection in the mirror out of the corner of my eye.

Sex. I looked like a porn star. I had not had the time to brush my hair in the morning, and my chestnut locks were starting to curl in the humidity. I straightened my hair every day, but the humidity and the lack of attention was bringing my hair to its natural wild state. It fell to my shoulders, curling in every direction at the ends. It was unkempt, like I had rolled in bed with a lover minutes before.

Ever since I met Max, I had felt overtly sexual. I had subconsciously worn my sexiest underwear this morning. My red lace bra made my heartbeat quicken. I traced my fingers down the scalloped lace of the cups. It was see through, a mesh and lace combination, that pushed and accentuated my breasts to their fullest potential. My full breasts looked like pale round melons against the intense red of the fabric. My pink nipples were straining against the fire-red fabric, already alert and demanding attention.

My eyes drifted down to my midsection. I had chosen matching underwear, a bright red, mesh and lace thong. halkalı anal yapan escort The lace pattern was scalloped into a flower pattern, which nestled its way between the folds of my slit. I turned around, my head still facing the mirror. The thong’s lace snaked around my hips and joined right above my rear, forming a single lace flower. The stem was tucked between my cheeks, a slim piece of bright red fabric.

I unclasped my bra, releasing my sensitive breasts. I dove onto my bed, tweaking my nipples. I moaned aloud. I felt like all of my body’s nerve ends were alert, responding to the slightest touch with sheer pleasure. I pictured Max’s smile, his gorgeous lips.

I sighed, a little moan escaping my lips as I dreamt of his.

I fantasized about the night at the fraternity house. Max leaned in to kiss me, and I responded ravenously, taking him with my mouth and tongue. We kissed passionately, oblivious to the couples dancing around us.

As I slid my fingers sensuously around my nipples, tugging and teasing them into a delightfully torturous state of pleasure, Max asked me in my fantasies to go somewhere private.

We disappeared into my bedroom, and I led Max into my bed. He tore off my clothes, and then his shirt. I imagined his chest — toned, tan, beautifully LA-ish. His chest was bare, without a trace of hair, and defined without being overly chiseled. He took my breast into his mouth, twirling my nipple with his tongue.

Fantasizing about Max was having a strong effect on my body. I was electric, my nipples swollen and hard, and twice their normal length. I had not yet touched my clit, but already I felt I was close to orgasm.

I grabbed my dildo, sliding it between my swollen lips. I rubbed it up and down my clit, slathering the shaft with my juices. I was slick with my own lubrication.

I shut my eyes, and Max and I stripped in my fantasy. He had the most beautiful cock I had ever seen. Its head mushroomed beautifully at the end of his average sized, but thick, shaft. It was not impressive in my mind — Max was, of course, only an average sized guy — but I was confident he would manipulate it in mind-blowing, unfathomable ways.

In my dreams, Max slid his shaft into my tight hole. I gasped aloud as I flicked my dildo’s vibrator to life, shoving it deep inside my snatch. The vibrations shook the entirety of the shaft, and each rotation of the dildo’s tiny motor seemed to make my pussy roar with delight. In addition to the overall vibrations, the curved tip and ball rotated slowly, pulsating against my G-spot.

I was instantly near orgasm. I pumped the dildo in and out of my snatch, relishing in the sensation of the ribbing and vibrations against my vaginal walls. I imagined it was Max pumping in and out of me. He knelt near my bottom, holding my ankles firmly against his hips. He thrust in and out of my snatch. I rammed my vibrator in and out, clenching my vagina against the ribbed plastic. I opened my eyes and could almost see Max fucking me, his head thrown back in excitement. He reached out, and I put my other hand back onto my tortured breasts, almost screaming from intense desire.

I was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as I bucked and howled against my bed. I slid my hand down my body away from my breast. My clit was burning. I purposely neglected to touch it until I was begging myself to cum. Without ceasing the relentless pounding from my vibrator, I lightly grazed the bud of my clit with the tip of my index finger.

I could not resist. As I pictured Max moaning my sexual prowess as he flooded my pussy with his cum, I stroked my bud with small, fast, hard circles. The sensations overwhelmed my body, and I was ripped into a screaming orgasm.

My whole body was electric. I bucked wildly against my bed, losing control of my muscle function as my nerve endings jumped to attention. Waves of heat crashed against my frame, overwhelming my senses.

“Yes!” I cried, unable to muffle my voice any longer. “Oh Max, Max!” His name bounced off my lips and reverberated through the room. I was certain the entire hall could hear my cries, and yet I did not care what they would think or say later. I embraced the pleasure that Max’s image had given me.

As the pulsations of my orgasm subsided, I slumped against the bed, withering from the heat. I switched off my vibrator and slid it out of my snatch. It made a slight *pop* as it exited, slick from the juices of my hole.

I lazily looked at the dildo, spinning it in the early afternoon sunlight streaming through my window. I laughed, thinking of Max, what it would be like to seduce him into my bedroom.

I wanted to run my fingers through his curly hair. I wanted to see his smile as we lay together in my too-small twin bed. I wanted to hold his beautifully tanned body and hear stories of LA.

I wanted…all of Max.


Freshman year passed relatively uneventfully. I spoke to Max every day, and we easily became friends. But as our friendship developed, I noticed Max’s affections were not unique to me. I soon realized his easy charm and casual sexiness were merely part of his personality. When I went to campus parties with my roommate, I embraced him with a hug and quick kiss on the lips, then watched, saddened, as he would do the same to each girl he encountered.

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