My College Years

AMy College Yearsnovella

ADVISORY: This story starts as a hetero anal sex romp. It then shifts into a relationship drama, one with some heavier themes. There is also a single, brief lesbian sex scene in the middle. But don't worry, we are never too far away from the next bit of wanton sodomy, even as the emotional stakes rise.

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🎶I'm dreaming of a creamed assholeWith every cock that slips insideMay my sphincter be gaping and wideAnd may all my rectum be cream-pied🎶

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A BELATED CHRISTMAS GIFT

by Emily Miller

CHAPTER 1 — MATT

I loathed condoms for anal. They got crinkled. They abraded and made me sore, no matter how frequently re-lubed. But, considering the circumstances, it was a necessary evil. And I was even managing tosomewhatenjoy the rather callow way in which Matt Jacobs was attempting to plow my ass.

It's weird how much of sex appeal is actually down to attitude. Objectively, my appearance wasn't very different to when Matt had spent most of senior year at high school actively ignoring me. I was still tiny, young-looking, and boyish. My curves were more Euclidean than elliptical, and my freckles were much too numerous.

I was now a college senior, home for the holidays. I mightlooklike the same girl that had left town, hoping to become a scientist, but a lot had changed for me in the intervening years. And with my new found sexual confidence, apparently I was now finally fuckable. Go team Emily!

It was shallow of me to target Matt, I knew. Then it had been shallow how he had treated me back then as well. It was maybe a fucked up sort of revenge / validation, but it made sense to me. I was a different girl now and determined to show him just what he had missed out on.

As for me? Based on Matt's current performance, I had dodged a bullet. I mean I loved anal, but it helped if the guy had some clue what he was doing. Maybe some encouragement was in order.

"Oh, Matt, you are sooo big, my tight little ass can hardly take you," I lied. "Give it to me big boy," another lie, "I love it so much." I'm sure my nose must have been elongating at this point.

But my words had the desired effect. With what I could only describe as a girly squeal, Matt thrust, and shuddered, then collapsed onto my back, breathing heavily.

I extricated myself from beneath him, holding the condom in place, which was surely the guy's job. Now business like, I found my panties and put them back on, then did the same with my jeans. Matt was lying on his back on the bed, an arm across his face and clearly out of it.

Boots. Where were my boots? Aha! I pulled them on, thankfully, as there was a dusting of snow outside. "Nice to see you again, Matt. I'll make sure to message Missy DeVito that we met. I know she'd just love to hear all about it." Missy was Matt's girlfriend, and she'd been pretty hateful to me too.

"What? What the fuck, Em? You... you wouldn't. Please...!"

"Bye, Matt! Happy Holidays, to you... and Missy."

With that, I left. Of course I wasn't going to message Missy. I was a low-level bitch sometimes, and seeing the look on Matt's face had been precious, but his secret was safe with me. Not that I was going to let him know that.

As well as an ego boost and a little revenge, my other objective had been to prepare myself for what I knew was waiting for me back at college. What I'd asked for as a Christmas gift. In this respect, Matt and his less than impressive endowment had not been awfully helpful.

As I sat in the taxi, a quiet voice in my head said, 'This isn't normal behaviour, you know?' I ignored it as ruthlessly as always, and went back to thinking about my much more urgent preparation problem.

And then it hit me. I should go back early before the special party that my landlord, David (who was also many other things to me), had arranged. He'd be staying with his relatives for a few more days. And my best friend, Ames (who was also many other things to me), was currently in the Czech Republic. But another mutual friend, Rian (who was... OK you get the picture, I guess), had said he would be around. I messaged him to check.

Cool! Now I just had to explain to Mom and Dad.

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CHAPTER 2 — SAMUEL

It was almost three hundred miles between home and college. That was a challenge for my beat up Toyota in Summer. In Winter? I'd taken a Greyhound and not exactly enjoyed the experience. Repeating it on my return trip was not an enticing prospect. But flying would involve a stop in Philly and several hours of travelling. What to do?

Then I thought of Samuel. I knew that he was staying with his folks in Long Island, and that he had driven. His parents had money and he'd wanted to give his new 3 Series - his pride and joy - a nice long run. I wondered if his plans might align with mine, perhaps with a slight detour.

Samuel was in my year. He'd been a member of the loose group that I had also been part of during my freshman and sophomore years. I hadn't been really close friends with any of them, but we'd hung out. He was an Engineer, and I think my friend Jonathan first introduced us. My experience was once you got to know one Engineer, you got to know them all.

But, as my extracurricular interests expanded, I'd seen less of these people, while still staying in contact. Recently, with Sam, it had mostly been sharing stupid stuff we'd seen with each other on Facebook. It was all very casual. If we ran into each other, we'd normally take time to catch up. While he was good looking, if you found beanpoles sexy, I'd not really thought of him as anything more than an acquaintance who was also a good guy.

For some reason, it felt different today. Samuel was black, and as I typed out a message, I also tried to resist the stereotypical - and frankly racist - thought that, if the mood took us, he might be rather less disappointing than Matt had been. 'Don't get ahead of yourself, Emily,' I thought as I pressed send. No, it's not true, I had lots of other things on my mind back then apart from sex, honest!

The stars aligned, and I made up some excuse about needing to complete a project before college started. I got some grumbling from Mom, but it was fine.

Samuel knocked at my parents' door after nine o'clock at night. It was around the time we had agreed, but we would be unlikely to cover the whole distance in what remained of the day.

If the same thought occurred to either Mom or Dad, they had enough sense not to mention it. My experience was that parents have a reality distorting field that allows them not to have to think too much about what their daughter actually gets up to.

"Say 'hi' to David for me," said my father. They had been childhood buddies. In the last two years, David and I had become quite a different type of buddies, but it was best that Dad didn't know about that.

As we drove out of what was not the most salubrious part of town and left the limits of what was not the most salubrious city in Pennsylvania, I felt I had to say something to my well-heeled friend. "I suppose it's not what you are used to."

Samuel kept his eyes on the road ahead, careful not to miss the ramp onto the interstate. "What do you mean, Emily?"

"Well," I replied rather uncertainly, "I've seen photos of you at your house on Facebook and..."

"And...?" Samuel asked evenly, but maybe with a slight edge in his voice.

"Well," I continued, now deeply wishing I hadn't said anything. "It's rather... grand, I guess."

He laughed, still staring ahead as we merged onto the three lane road.

Feeling that I had to explain further, I went on, "And, my parents' house - or rather half of a house - my... my great-grandfather built it. It's... it's not very..." I trailed off.

Samuel briefly glanced at me, then back to the road. When he spoke, his voice was even, but I detected some underlying emotion. "Emily, never be ashamed of where you come from. My father, he talks constantly about his early life as a goatherd back in Ethiopia."

I was now beginning to feel like an awful person. But Samuel briefly flashed a smile at me. "Of course it's only gullible white people who believe a word of it. His father was Minister of Industry in the old country, and he studied at Yale. Not a lot of goats in either of those gigs."

My jaw dropped, then - after a few seconds - we both ended up laughing.

"Anyway, Emily, I have a more important question for you. Was there any reason that you wanted me to pick you up so late?"

Samuel's eyes were riveted on the traffic, but he was grinning broadly. I decided that some questions were better left unanswered.

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We pulled into a Best Western and Samuel paid for a room. We both knew that we only needed one. As we carried our bags from the car, he said in a cautious tone, "I just wanted to make sure we are on the same page, Emily."

I had begun to like the formal way in which he dropped my name into every other sentence. "Let me help you out: We're gonna fuck, but I'm not looking for a boyfriend. What does your page say?"

He roared with laughter. "Pretty much that, and it has a footnote saying Emily Miller's rep for being ultra-direct is well-founded."

We'd reached the door and he swiped us in. "You know I'm ND, right?" I said. "Kinda goes with the territory."

"It would probably be offensive to say most Electrical Engineers are somewhere on the spectrum, I guess," he replied.

"Not offensive, just inaccurate," I corrected him. "That's not what 'spectrum' means in context."

"Emily," my name again, "I like you, but I should know better than to get into a debate with you." He smiled as he spoke, no rancor in his expression. "Shall we talk about the fucking instead?"

"Sure," I said, putting my bag down, sitting on the bed, and indicating for Samuel to do the same.

He joined me and started by saying, "Speaking of being direct, I thought your intentions were pretty clear when we messaged. Did I get that wrong?"

I shook my head, grinning.

"But I was surprised, Emily." The constant 'Emilies' were making me tingle a little. "It's not just directness that you have a reputation for."

"Oh, really?" I said, a little worried that someone in David's group had been less than discreet. "Go on."

"Well, Emily, people talk about you and... Amelia Stevens."

I could hear the hesitation in his voice, but my main feeling was one of relief. "Amy's my best friend," I replied, "and I'm not going to say anything else on that subject, OK? But I like boys."

"As well...?"

His persistence was actually kinda cute. "OK, as well," I admitted, giving him a peck on the cheek. "But... and I'm gonna ask you not to ask me why, OK...? I want you to do me a favor." This was a surprisingly difficult subject for me to broach. I was used to hanging out with people who took this stuff for granted.

And I realized something else. I'd had no such compunction with Matt Jacobs, basically as I hadn't given a fuck about what happened. Isodidn't want a boyfriend, but it now became clear to me that I liked Samuel. I liked him a lot. Not in a relationship way, but as more than friends. That meant I cared, and with caring came vulnerability, and old demons sharpening their talons.

"Anything, Emily." It was like he was holding a magic wand to my clit each time he said those three final syllables.

I was no longer as painfully shy as I used to be, but could nevertheless feel myself blushing. "I... have you ever tried..." I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry, "um... anal?"

— — —

Samuel had maintained his poise throughout, but now he just stared at me slack-jawed. I couldn't help but giggle at his shocked expression, feeling a little better myself in the process.

"You mean...?" he finally managed, a little hoarsely.

"I mean you stick your cock up my ass," I interjected. "It's not a complicated concept." Having said it out loud, my anxiety reduced a little.

"I... um... well... have you, like, done this... um... before?" he stuttered.

"Yeah, once or twice, it's fun," I replied. "I assume that...?"

He shook his head.

"But you've had sex?"

This time a nod, then he blurted out, "Is this some kind of virginity thing?"

That made me laugh. "The poophole loophole? Nah! And that ship has definitely left. Actually it's probably circumnavigated the globe at least twice."

His eyes widened even further, but he went on. "But... don't we need, like, lube...?"

I was beginning to enjoy myself again. I rummaged in my bag and held up a black, plastic bottle. Quite a large black, plastic bottle. "Always have some on me."

"At your parents' house?" he asked, incredulously.

"Uh-huh," I smiled. "Though not forusethere, that's one thing I won't do."

"One thing..." he echoed weakly. Suddenly another thought occurred to him. "And isn't it... messy?"

"Not if I clean myself properly," I grinned. "I did before you turned up. And...?"

"And...?"

I rummaged some more and found a rubber bulb with a thin plastic nozzle. Holding it up, I said, "If you are interested, I could, well, sluice a bit more. Are you interested?"

Samuel nodded, but seemed mesmerized still.

"Words might be good, Sam, I'm kinda big on consent," I prompted.

Regaining some of his earlier assurance, Samuel said, "Emily..." my name again, I'd missed that, "...would you do me the honor of having anal sex with me? But... could we maybe try regular sex first?"

"Of course, hun," I replied, cupping his face and kissing him. Suddenly worried, I asked, "Can you manage two times?"

"I'll do my best," Samuel replied, pulling off his sweater.

— — —

Samuel's polo shirt went the same way as his sweater. His skin was a lustrous mahogany color, and so soft to run my fingers, then lips over. His frame was closer to skinny than muscular, but it felt nice to rest my head on his solid pecs, and listen to his racing heart.

But I was an impatient sort of girl, and my earlier doubts had receded, at least for now. With a brief kiss, I wriggled onto the floor, and began to unbutton Samuel's jeans. This led to the broadest smile yet. "Emily, I should say that the big black cock is a myth, I don't want you to be disappointed."

I thought that his facial expression wasn't wholly consistent with his words, and he was fond of jokes. Both observations spurred me on my voyage of penile discovery. As I pulled his boxers down and released their contents, I was far from disappointed. This was much more my speed. Looking up, I did my best to convey astonishment - men love their egos to be stroked; even more than their cocks.

Gripping Samuel, I tried a few exploratory up and down movements, which made him shiver. "Not too big for you, Emily?" he asked, with evident pride, and a tremble in his voice.

"I don't know, it isverybig," I pouted, dismissing the thought that David was at least an inch and a half longer, maybe two. Still, compared to Matt, this was much better. "I wonder what it tastes like," I purred, and licked my lips, feeling a lot happier about life.

Then Samuel's hand was on the back of my head, and he guided me down onto him. I locked eyes - you have to lock eyes, it's the rules - and parted my lips, allowing his head to move them further apart as I took him into my mouth. I closed my jaw gently, my teeth just below his glans, and rolled my tongue over his trapped tip. I appreciated his hygiene, just a slight tang of sweat mixing with male arousal.

Still maintaining eye contact, I made my tongue into a groove, and sucked my cheeks onto his shaft as I inched him into me. Samuel's question about size was probably on my mind as I swallowed more and more, until my nose hit his wiry pubic hair and his balls were against my chin. I could be such a show-off.

I blinked calmly, breathing through my nostrils, and Samuel gazed at me with what I took to be amazement.

'Too big?' I thought to myself. 'As if!' I pulled off of him, not due to any discomfort - my throat was well-trained - but as I wanted to ask a question. "So, does this count as regular sex, or did you mean pussy?"

Samuel was a little flustered. "I feel like you are taking my order at a restaurant," he said.

"Yeah,"'I replied, "but it's a smorgasbord, an all you can fuck buffet. What would you like to do? Or should I list options?"

"I'd... I'd maybe like to see you nude," he said, and it seemed his mahogany was turning to redwood.

'Silly me,' I thought. 'Too carried away with cock, just for a change.' But this was more difficult for me. The uncertainty of earlier came roaring back.

"Sure," I said out loud, trying to sound tranquil, "but don't be too disappointed, OK?"

Though my heart was now thumping, I was perfunctory in my disrobing, kicking off my boots first. The blue hoodie went next, then I unzipped my jeans and wiggled out of them. I'd at least had the presence of mind to put on some nice underwear; white and lacy, and a bra that actually fit - David had bought them for me.

Studiously avoiding eye contact, I pulled off my top, and eventually had the courage to look at Samuel. I might be more confident than in my youth, but I still had issues. And I assumed that many of my sexual partners were much more positive about what we did together than what I looked like. I had a lingering fear of rejection, that I wasn't good enough. And those familiar insecurities could - as now - have me pivot from self-assurance to anxiety in an instant.

Samuel said nothing, which unnerved me even more. Eventually I couldn't bear the silence any longer. "Should I get dressed again?" I crouched and started to pick up my clothes.

"I'm sorry, Emily, I just didn't know what to say," Samuel replied. "I've heard you disparaging your looks so many times in the last few years, but seriously you have no need to. You're... lovely."

He stood, maybe forgetting that his jeans and underwear were still around his calves, and so stumbled. Our shared laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation dissipated any tension. "Stay there," I instructed.

I walked to him and went on tiptoes to push our lips together. I felt his hands on my body, and his fingers found the clasp of my bra. He was more competent at undoing the clips than many men. Instinctively, I hugged my exposed and meager breasts. But Samuel knelt, still encumbered by his own clothes, and took a nipple into his mouth, making me gasp.

At the same time, his hand was between my legs, fingers searching, then dexterously finding their target. Shivers ran through me. I'd assumed Samuel to be inexperienced, but he clearly knew how to make a woman tingle. Taking a side each we pulled down my panties. Then I helped him out of his jeans and boxers.

We stood together, now both nude. Again I reached up to put my arms around his neck, and our lips met. Samuel's hands were everywhere. Stroking my hair, walking down my spine, clenching my butt, kneading my small breasts. His touch made me quiver, kindled fires in my flesh.

Then strong arms were around me and he literally swept me off my feet, one arm behind my back, another under my bent knees, and he cradled me to his chest, bowing to kiss me again. My body aflame, I whispered in his ear, "Please fuck me."

Samuel carried me to the bed, put me down gently, then laid beside me, kissing and caressing. I found his stiff rod with my hand and once more Samuel unerringly located my clitoris. My tongue buried in his mouth, I squirmed at my friend's teasing digital stimulation. I'd had in mind more foreplay, but Samuel's finger-tips had my pussy demanding urgent attention.

A Belated Christmas Gift

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