Tittie-fucking a B cup is the equivalent of rubbing your hard cock against a cushioned wall.
Seriously, a fucking wall.
Granted, the wall moaned like a porn star and licked the slick off the head of my dick on occasion, but still, I wasn’t feeling it. I could have rubbed myself against a wall at home all alone and saved myself the gas money and the time.
Luckily for me, the wall fuck only lasted five minutes or so before she decided to blow me instead. Otherwise, I might never have gotten off.
It’s all about perspective and small miracles.
Yeah, I said small.
Fucking nonexistent was more like it.
I wanted to bag her; blow her back out like a fire hose with all my pent-up fuck juice, but she wasn’t up for giving it the ol’ college try. My guess was it was her time of the month. Hell, it seemed as though half the women on campus were seeing red. The crimson wave was putting a serious damper on my dickly pursuits.
In the end, it didn’t matter really. I didn’t have time to worry about getting her off and all that shit anyway. Sure, I could be a number one asshole, but I always made sure my lady went off before I did. It was only fair.
It wasn’t happening, though. My pussy drought had reached epic proportions, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d last before my cock shriveled up and became a clit. Don’t get me wrong … a spit suck was sweet, but it didn’t glide like a lady’s insides.
The poor condom in my pocket was probably going to go bad at this point. I imagined it being dry and cracked when I finally opened it—deteriorating in my palm and keeping me from playing dipping dick once again.
I didn’t understand it.
College was supposed to be all about football and getting college-girl ass. I’d watched so much college porn over the summer that I’d accidentally set my expectations too high. There were no half-naked girls running around campus waiting to show their school spirit, aka their tits and gash. No dorms full of horny females waiting to bounce all over my cock.
So far, it was nothing of the sort.
Instead of finding myself on a hot episode of College Girls Gone Wild All Over Sawyer’s Cock, I worked my balls off in class. I was trying to kick my freshman year off right. When I wasn’t drowning in work, I was trying to sleep. I say trying because I hadn’t had a decent night of sleep since I stepped foot on campus.
Lectures, practice, and palm fucking myself in the shower before rushing to class.
I was all about that life.
After I blew my load down Wall Fuck’s throat, I tucked my deflating cock back into my boxer briefs and zipped up my jeans. With a quick kiss on her cheek, I left her alone in her room. I took the stairs out of her dorm two at a time and left faster than my boy Robby when he’s running the ball into the end zone.
Basically, I was a bat out of hell.
Not only was I going to be late for my first class, but I also knew if I stayed any longer, I was going to have to pull out the asshole card. Girls hated the asshole card, and I hated having to use it.
It had the rules in small print on the bottom.
No double dips.
No girlfriend bullshit.
Being a total douche wasn’t hard for me, but I was fucking exhausted with the whole game. I learned quickly that college girls expected snuggling and shit afterward. I’d been caught one too many times lying around too long after a blowjob. I was a three-minute cuddle … tops. Maybe four if my O face was strong with a chick. To me, there was nothing worse than holding a woman while silently wishing she’d fall asleep so I could leave.
I wasn’t doing it.
Hence, the asshole card and the small print rules.
It was one of the few things I missed from high school. High school girls fucked for fame. They didn’t care about the sweet shit afterward. They just wanted the right to say they let the football star take a swim in their slippery stream.
They wanted the attention, and I wanted the tang.
It was a fair trade.
The point was I was used to high school girls and getting sex when I wanted it. When you were the star quarterback in a small football town like Ninety Six, South Carolina, you were a god. I was a fucking rock star back home and usually had my pick of groupies.
I’d earn my place on campus, too. I just needed a little time and the football. The rest would be a breeze. It wouldn’t be long before the girls were lining up for a deep dicking from Sawyer Reed.
It was going to take me a while to gain that kind of stardom around the university, but I knew once football season kicked off and my face was plastered all over ESPN, I’d be riding the celebrity high again. Getting whatever and whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
It was all about control in my world. I loved the power that popularity gave me. I needed the freedom to rule my world how I saw fit and the fame of my football skills made that possible.
When I got to the small off-campus house I was sharing with three other teammates, I went upstairs to shower and shave. Lifting my chin, I checked myself in the mirror one final time to make sure I didn’t miss anything. My shadowed eyes passed over my reflection and sadness briefly moved through me. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was feeling a little homesick. I couldn’t let those feelings get in my way.
Emotions were bullshit.
Feelings were for pussies.
I hadn’t saved every penny from the time I was fourteen just to get away from Ninety Six and become a homesick piece of shit. I worked and saved so I could be away from all the sad memories of home—so I could put everything behind me and live my life how I chose.
I didn’t have time to think about any of that, though. Today was going to be my day. Then again, lately every day’s been my day. Shit was going good, with the exception of the pussy drought. I was living my dream as a true freshman first-string quarterback at my choice school. I’d stepped onto the team and snatched the title from Marcus Wayne. He’d been the quarterback for the last two years but no more. I was in town now, and I was going to blow his numbers away.
I’d been practicing hard, and already, the commentators on ESPN were talking about how good my arm was. It wouldn’t be long before I was bringing in millions in the NFL and leaving all the old bullshit behind.
Money and pussy for days and the control and freedom I deserved.
I finished getting dressed and snatched up my books on the way out the door. Climbing into my four-wheel drive, I cranked it and the big engine roared to life. My big truck was useless on campus, but the muddy roads of home required it.
My mud tires sloshed through a deep puddle, soaking the parked car next to me as I pulled out of my driveway, and then I headed to my first class with a smile plastered across my freshly shaven face.
I was running a little late, and the classroom was silent when I entered. All eyes went to me and hushed whispers filled the room when I stepped inside, interrupting the silence. It didn’t bother me. I was used to all eyes on me. I was used to being the topic of many conversations.
Words were scrawled across the dry erase board reminding me how much I hated literature classes. Professor Watts stood tapping his shiny, black shoes as he waited for me to take my seat.
He was a fuck face … period.
There wasn’t really a nice way to put it, but the man was in need of a good, relaxing fuck. He was uptight, and I could tell by the way that his lips curled when he looked my way that he didn’t like me.
Not that I cared.
I wasn’t losing any sleep over it.
I smiled to myself as I moved slowly through the room, feeling all eyes follow me. My classmates didn’t know me well, but now that football season was kicking off, I’d soon own this school. Soon, they’d be screaming my name from the stands and painting my number, number ten, on their skin.
I couldn’t wait……………………………..download to read more