1st Times: Memories of College Ex

(All characters are 18+ years old.)

It's been almost 3 months since Florence and I first made love. While I felt the two of us had been growing closer together ever since, it's been a brutally busy period in terms of studies for both of us, as summer term break approached quickly.

We had stayed overnight at each other's home and enjoyed good sex more than a few times, but the teenage hormones in me meant that it was never enough.

Besides, there was one more item on the menu that I had not experienced yet, so to speak, and I had begun suggesting we rectify this problem.

"No." Florence said, and flicked the head of my semi-hard dick playfully, after I suggested we give blow job a try, again.

"Ouch... It actually hurts, you know..." I said, as we were cuddling on her bed, about to sleep after a long day.

"Maybe I want you to earn it," Florence said as she turned away from me, but her hand was pulling mine to rest on her waist, my fingers feeling her navel.

I took a deeper breath, enjoying the scent of the shampoo from her smooth, long hair. "And how do I earn it?"

"Just continue to be super, super sweet to me..." she replied, her tone sleepy. She pulled me closer.

A few days later, when I was trying to fix a broken cupboard in Florence's flat, she had to rush back to her university to collect some reference books urgently. And so it was, I alone sitting on the floor in the living room, when Jan, Florence's flatmate and high school classmate, came back.

We chit-chat about some random stuff, then, sensing there was something she wanted to say to me, I asked, "Is there something on your mind?"

She sighed and began, "It's about Florence... She has had problems with alcohol in high school. I mean, she has always been a model student with top grades and zero discipline issues, until just over 2 years ago, she started drinking. Sometimes a lot... and she would often display a different side of herself when she had alcohol... Several times, she did things that were dangerous, for the thrill of breaking rules, and almost got expelled. Truth is, she was lucky to be able to get into her university."

Jan's expression was pained and worried. It's clear that she had thought long and hard before telling me all these. She continued, "I won't get into specifics of what Florence has done when she was drunk... but she knew she had that problem, and I was glad she had been cutting down on the drinks ever since she and you got together...but lately, I think she is slipping.

Her consumption is creeping up again. Maybe it is the stress of her school work, or maybe it was due to the relationship between her parents.... Things have been getting worse for their marriage... Please, take care of her," said Jan.

I nodded and promised her I would do my best. Then Jan left.

Another week later, our first year at university was finally over. Courseworks and essays all handed in, no more lectures, it's summer holiday and time to chill.

In just a few days' time, me, Florence, Jan, and our friend Jeff, would all be flying back to live with our respective families in Hong Kong, our home town, and stay for around 2 months. Which means a huge curb on our independence and freedom, and a potential challenge to our relationship. Will Florence and I feel less into each other when we were put in a completely different country, different circumstances?

But before that, there was Jan's birthday do, at a club in Notting Hill, another trendy area of London. The few of us have all been looking forward to this night out for ages. Florence, in particular, was obviously burned out by the demands of her top-tier university and desperately needed to have some fun.

Therefore, when she was reaching for her third J.D. cokes during Jan's birthday do, I worried but ultimately chose not to intervene. She needed this, and I can look after her. I told myself. Jan would probably have tried to get Florence to slow down, had she not been more than tipsy herself, bumping and grinding her boyfriend on the dance floor at the time.

And I have to admit, I missed a buzzed Florence. After that third drink, she enthusiastically pulled me to the dance floor, next to Jan, her boyfriend, Jeff and a few other friends of ours. She was smiling, twirling, shuffling her shoulders, shaking her hips. Her long, jet black hair flowed this way and that in front of her slender face.

I caught more than a few pairs of male eyes watching her, drinking in the sight of her youthful and fit body, letting loose. Her customary tight jeans showcased her long, lean legs and the slight curves of her small but tight butt, those that only came from working out. Her top looked like a modest, simple white sleeveless top from the front; it was not even low cut. But behind, it featured an A-shaped daring split that basically displayed the whole of her back from her shoulder blades downward. The thin back strap of her bra stood out starkly.

When she leaned on me, her ass grinding on my crotch, my hands naturally fell to her exposed, slim waist. I so wanted to slide my hands up and grab her boobs, but surrounded by many of our friends, I settled for only enjoying her hips' gyration making me hard, and her soft lips on mine.

As the music shifted to a different beat, Florence turned to face me, hand behind my neck, smiling at me in her drunken, cute way. Until Jan reached to grab the back strap of Florence's bra, pulled it outward, then let go, SLAP.

"Hey!" Florence protested playfully, straining to pull Jan's shoulder strap in revenge as she hid behind her boyfriend with a childish smirk.

Then, from the other side, Jeff repeated what Jan did, also smirking. The three of them came from the same high school, and it was Jeff, one of my best friends in London, who introduced me to Florence. But still, it bothered me. Yes, I know it was silly. It was just a bra strap, and it was just childish play, but I couldn't help it.

We all danced on, drank on, and almost two hours quickly passed by. Jan was so drunk, her boyfriend bid us all good night and was taking her back to his home. Some other friends have already left, so I told Florence I would use the toilet, and then we would go too.

When I made my way to the club's exit after the toilet, two of our friends were there staring at Jeff, who appeared to be tangling with Florence, his chest pressing tight against her naked back, their hands struggling to wrestle something off each other's grip.

I was furious and stomped towards them. When nearer, I could see that Jeff had one arm reaching out from above Florence's right shoulder, his other arm from under her left armpit, to try and grab his mobile phone, which she was trying to hold as far from him as possible. As they struggled on, I watched his elbow momentarily pressed into her chest; both of them had an impish expression on their face.

I snatched the phone from Florence's hand, held it up high so only Jeff could reach it, "Take it, we are leaving!" My face must have looked murderous and my voice must have been raised, because both of them, and our other friends, all looked stunned.

Jeff took his phone, I grabbed Florence's wrist, and we left the club without saying another word.

It was less than 10 minutes in a cab to Florence's flat, and neither of us spoke. But the moment we entered her building's lobby there was distinct differences in Florence's behaviour tonight, compare with the dozens other times I came home with her: even though there was a middle-aged couple standing near us, checking their letters by their mail box, Florence hugged me tight and kissed me passionately, tongue and all, while her hands feeling my back and my ass. This had never happened when she was sober, especially when we were just a few steps from some strangers.

When I finally pulled back, feeling the stare from the couple, I said in a tone colder than I intended, "Let's go to your flat." I grabbed Florence's hand and took us to the lift before she could respond.

I probably sounded angry still, and the truth was, I couldn't forget the image of Jeff's body pressing so closely against hers.

"Are you upset?" She asked as the lift went up, in that soft, sweet tone that she rarely ever used. Her hand squeezed mine slightly.

I looked at her, skin flushed, eyes slightly droopy, obviously under the heavy influence of the booze. I don't want to be angry at her, but I couldn't let it go, so I just took a deep breath and looked away.

We didn't say anything as we entered her 3rd floor flat. I wanted to let some cool, fresh air clear my irritation, so I went straight for the balcony, sat with a sigh on the only chair there, and just stared at the street light nearby. The balcony's railing was waist height, with thinly frosted glass panels fixed underneath it.

I didn't think there was anything currently going on between Jeff and Florence, but was there anything in the past? Can I trust my girlfriend and perhaps my best friend in London?

I heard footsteps from behind, and soon after, Florence was crouching next to me on the balcony. I deliberately did not look at her, but from the edge of my vision, I can see that she has taken off her top but left her white bra on.

"We were just playing," Florence said, her hands on my knees, "Jeff and I, we were always just friends, and we ARE only just friends. Can you trust me?"

I turned my face to look into her dark-brown eyes. She looked as sincere as she was intoxicated, and I realised I had grown to truly love looking at her.

Before I could think of how to respond, Florence's hands started sliding up my thigh. I involuntarily sucked in air through my mouth, while her fingers teasingly slid towards my groin, retreated momentarily, only to venture further again, all while we locked eyes, her biting her lower lip. Finally, she started tracing the length of my hardening manhood under my chino trousers.

"Can I... make it up for you?" She said. I swallowed, before she turned her gaze down to my crotch, and her hands soon started undoing my trousers' button, then the zip. But I stopped her by gently gripping her hand.

"You don't have to..."

"But I want to. There was something you asked me to do before...."

Hearing what she said, my jaw slightly dropped. She could only mean one thing. And her hand resumed pulling down my zip completely.

Then her hands reached for my boxer shorts, "Hip up, come on!" She commended.

"Wait, here?"

Once more, she looked at me, "Do you want a blow job?" Here comes her rare, sweet and girly tone again, the one that I could never resist. "Do youreally, reallywant one?"

"Yes..." I nod, honestly.

"Then lift up your hip, quick!" Her hands were already grabbing the waistband of both my boxer and the chino, pulling.

But we are kinda semi-outdoor?!The sensible part of my mind protested, but that guy was rather weak right now, given the whisky I had had, compared to the horny part. So I pushed my hip up, and she pulled it all down to my calf.

Freed of all constraint, my hard cock stood proudly in front of Florence. She smiled at me with her fuddled, but childish and mischievous smile, the one exactly like she showed me all the way back in our first encounter in that dark, noisy club. Once again, this was a side of Florence I have missed, one I have not seen since then.

Her hand jerked up and down my shaft a few times, my anticipation grew, just like my dick. Then, without warning, she leaned forward and swallowed the front 1/3 of my cock in her mouth.

I groaned, oh my, that sensation of her mouth encompassing the head of my shaft was unlike anything I have felt before. But then she started flicking her tongue under my cock, and that just forced me to cry out, more high-pitched than I wished. I grabbed the armrests of my chair as Florence carried on to stimulate me with her tongue's tickling, her soft lips' sucking. It was almost too much as I felt pleasure in one moment, but something like punishment the next. This was quite certainly not her first time.

And then she started bobbing her head up and down, sucking more and more of my shaft into her mouth each time. "Ohhhhh....." I couldn't stop myself from vocalising the lustful pleasure I was experiencing, until I did not know how long later, we heard a man yelling from the streets below.

"Wow, look at that! Is that a blow job you're getting, mate?!"

My eyes shot open, and I turned my head towards the sound. There, down on the pavement around 8 or 9 meters from our building, 2 men in their early twenties, beer in hand, were staring up at me, smirking and pointing.

"It is a blow job! The girl is hard at work!" Shouted the other man.

Then I realised there were gaps between the frosted glass panels that surround the balcony. And illuminated by the light right above my head, as well as the street light outside, those lightly frosted glass weren't doing a good enough job of obscuring what's going on here. Especially with Florence's head obviously bobbing up and down between my legs. Most of Florence was behind the glass, but those men could see my head and shoulder, and they probably saw my bare thigh and part of her head.

"Hey girl, can we be next!" "Yeah, our dicks are bigger!" The two men yelled and laughed again.

To my surprise, instead of stopping, Florence raised a middle finger above the railing, didn't even pause and in fact, she jerked her head between my legs faster and deeper, as if in defiance. The two men saw that and started whistling and catcalling. Then she lowered her hand, not back to my thigh, but to slide inside the thong under her jeans. Her arm started the telltale sign of jerking. She was masturbating.

Seeing how she was not deterred in the slightest by the disruption, and instead gotten turned on by it, had given me renewed horniness. While she has slowed down the bobbing of her head, Florence continued to pleasure my cock with her sweet mouth and tongue. I leaned forward to cup and knead at her left breast over the thin, sheer fabric of her bra, enjoying how full and pliable she felt.

A few moments later, the catcalling had stopped, and I saw the two men walking away. (Thanks heaven it was 2001, because I am sure we would have been filmed and gone viral nowadays.) Which was just as well, "I am close.... Florence..." I said.

Florence pulled out her hand from her jeans, her fingers glistening with her own juice, and started jerking me hard. "Come for me, baby."

I leaned back, the pressure within my cock tittering on the edge, pre cum spilling out from my tip. Florence's hand kept speeding up and down my whole length, then, perhaps noticing I was almost there, she dived down and sucked half of my length in her mouth again. That sudden spike of sensation pushed me over the edge. I let out a groan so loud I was sure the neighbours would hear it, but screw them. My body grew taut, and my seeds exploded into Florence's mouth, again and again. I felt her continue to suck on me. When I opened my eyes, I saw bits of my cum spilt out of the corner of her mouth. Her eyes closed, looking like she was enjoying this almost as much as I did. My dick finally turned soft, and she gave me a final deep gulp, making me moan once more before releasing my dick.

Florence smiled at me, licked the bit of cum from her mouth and stood up.

"Now's my turn." She shocked me again as she pulled her bra over her head, tossed it on the balcony floor, and proceeded to force her jeans and thong down.

What with those two catcalling men just minutes earlier, it was obvious that passersby on the pavement could see quite a lot of what's going on in this balcony. Even if it was after 1am now, people do walk by this building on their way to the 24/7 store nearby.

But Florence didn't appear to have a care in the world. I watched, speechless, as she held on to the rail by one hand, while she untangled the jeans and thong from her legs, her tits jiggling with the motion. At 5"8, her nude upper body largely visible above the handrail.

Now completely naked, she leaned down and kissed me on the cheek, "Wanna fuck me on the balcony?"

"Erm..."

"Just kidding," she said, smiled naughtily and walked towards her room.

We went on to fuck passionately inside, she riding me with a wild energy and eagerness that was not there before.

After we were both finally satisfied, I was tired but oddly clear-minded.

I sat up on the bed and looked at my now-asleep girlfriend, thinking back on how getting drunk released this slightly reckless, daring side of her, from the usual reserved and cool persona she displayed most days. I wondered which one was the 'real' side of her? Or maybe both were?

I think I finally understood what Jan said about her 'thrill-seeking' when she has had more than a glass or two to drink. Florence obviously fed on being caught giving head, being watched and whistled at. It turned her on, and pushed her to do things that a sober Florence never would. In turn, I realised watching her so horny, so fearless and daring in showing off her body and her sexuality really, really turned me on, more than anything else.

I know I could either try to dissuade her from getting this drunk again, or let her have the drinks, but make sure to be there to stop her antics from harming her or getting her into too much trouble.

Jan has asked me to do the former, which I obviously failed tonight.

Looking at Florence's lovely naked body, I lay down next to her, spooning her from behind, skin touching skin, my hand touching hers. The snake between my legs started to stiffen again, poking at her crotch.

I knew very well I couldn't wait for another night with Florence as her thrill-seeking, real self.

To be continued