I’m still unpacking when there’s a soft tap at my door. The girl who introduces herself as Gretchen, my Residential Advisor, has blonde ringlets, pale blue eyes, and a willowy frame that accentuates coltish legs that go on forever.
Even in her Pine Creek Academy polo shirt and plaid skirt, Gretchen is achingly beautiful.
We’re both new post-grad students, which gives me hope I may get to know her better. Much better. But Gretchen carries herself with a remoteness that suggests she’s miles out of my league. She’s all business reviewing recycling rules, laundry services, quiet hours, and co-ed bathroom etiquette.
Not that there’s a lot to review.
Pine Creek Academy is known for its gothic architecture, serious academics, and liberal outlook. So liberal that any post-grad student or senior with an honors grade-point-average is eligible to live in a mixed-sex dormitory, known as Chastity Hall, where there's no prohibition against consensual sex, or even nudity in the common rooms.
Gretchen consults her clipboard again, then breaks into a welcoming smile.
"Cool! You're on the football team," she says enthusiastically. “I’m captain of the Girl's Soccer Team. The shuttle bus to the Athletic Center leaves the dorm at 2:15. Don't be late. It won't wait!"
She turns to walk down the hall, but glances over her shoulder at me. Her hair forms a perfect golden halo in the afternoon sunlight. "I'll save you a seat," she says with the kind of smoldering look that turns grown men into groveling fools.
The 15-minute shuttle bus ride becomes the highlight of my day. The real Gretchen is as empathetic as she is hot. She takes genuine interest in my silly anecdotes about growing up in “Smallville," PA. Her descriptions of coming of age in New York City sound like some kind of impossible alternate universe to me.
By the end of September, we are saving each other seats on the bus and even taking short walks around campus just so we can keep talking. It’s on one of those walks that she asks, "Are you in a rush to get back?"
"For what?" I reply. "Frozen pizza and calculus?"
"OK, then. Let's explore," she grabs my hand and pulls me across the highway to an abandoned dairy farm. As soon as we're out of sight of the campus, Gretchen pushes me against a barn, looks up into my eyes, and presses her lips against mine.
"I've been wanting to do that for days," she tells me when we come up for air. At this point, the most important thing of my young life is to find a way inside that barn.
The front is securely chained, but a firm kick forces one of the side doors open. Inside sunlight streams though chinks in the siding, revealing an old jalopy with no tires or engine, but a rear seat that’s miraculously intact.
With the next kiss, Gretchen literally melts into my arms. I feel her lips part and her tongue caresses my mouth, sending a cascade of shivers down my spine. A mere glimpse of Gretchen's naked thighs, or even the sweet scent of her perfume perfume, has been enough to arouse me, so you can imagine the impact of a deep french kiss.
When we finally separate, Gretchen is panting and looking me up and down through half-opened eye lids. In panic, I realized the outline my hard cock is plainly visible through the front of my khakis, and I shift my weight in a futile effort to conceal it.
"Are you trying to hide an erection?" she giggles.
"Ummmm… guilty," I blush.
"Don't be embarrassed," Gretchen says, her eyes searching mine. "I'm glad you're aroused."
I don’t know what to say, so I just relax, and unclench my legs. Gretchen looks at my lap and smiles.
"Look," she says, stretching the fabric of her white Pine Creek polo shirt against her breasts. She’s not wearing a bra, and her stiff nipples poke against the soft pima cotton like a pair of hard, pink pencil erasers.
"See what you've done to me?" she whispers. With that, Gretchen slides down on the seat, her plaid skirt riding up her thighs until I can see the front panel of her white cotton panties.
"Come here, Horn Dog," she laughs, tugging my shoulders until I roll over and my crotch presses between her legs. "Haven't you ever seen panties before?"
"Not… on... you…" I stammer.
"Kiss me again, and maybe you'll get to see underneath them one of the days," she teases, pressing her mouth against mine.
As our kiss deepens, I feel her hips undulate beneath me, and I answer by rolling my own hips against the warm softness of her crotch. Gretchen moans and her tongue plunges deeper into my mouth, her fingers stroking the back of my neck. I can't stop thinking about what she's just said, about me seeing what’s under those sexy white panties.
Soon, all that matters is the delicious feeling of my cock humping the moist gusset of Gretchen's panties. Knowing all that separates me from the wonders of her pussy is a thin layer of fabric causes an almost unbearable excitement in me.
We start slowly, savoring the new sensations of our entwined bodies. As the heat rises between us, our hips grind faster and harder until with muscles clenched, we hover at the edge of orgasm. Only then we relax, catch our breath, and begin another slow climb toward ecstasy.
Eventually, Gretchen's moans turn to whimpers that catch in the back of her throat. We are no longer kissing, just grinding with primal urgency. As we near another peak, Gretchen goes rigid in my arms and cries out with enough force to scatter a flock of pigeons from the rafters. And instant later, I ejaculate, my cock throbbing as warm cum gushes into my briefs. I’m dimly aware that Gretchen has wrapped her long legs around my back and is rocking me tenderly.
It takes a long time for our breathing to return to something like normal. When Gretchen gently rolls me off her, she takes my fingers in her hand.
"Feel me," she whispers, guiding my fingertips between her legs. I’m not surprised by the heat radiating from beneath her panties, but I’m shocked by the amount of slippery liquid.
"Is that from me?"
"No, you big dork!" she says, swatting the side of my head with her free hand. "I came. That's my wetness."
Before letting go of my hand, Gretchen presses my fingers until I find the groove at the entrance to her sex. Taking the hint, I force my middle finger as deep as her panties will allow, and am rewarded with a gentle shiver and another satisfied moan.
"Can I touch you?" she asks. Following her example, I guide her fingertips until they brush against the outline of my cock. She explores it eagerly, squeezing me softly through my pants. When she reaches the tip, her fingers stray into the wet spot. She runs her fingertips across it and then lifts them to her mouth.
"Mmmmm… not bad," she says, running her tongue across her lips.
I reach back between her legs, draw my fingertips along the slick liquid on her panties. I’m amazed to find my body shudder with pure pleasure as I lick her juice off my fingertips.
"You like my taste?" she asks with a naughty smile.
"Apparently, I do," I answer.
Gretchen kisses me. "That's good, because there's plenty more where that came from.”
The next afternoon, as we step off the shuttle bus at Chastity Hall, she whispers into my ear, "Stop by my room after 10.” We both knew there’s no need for me to reply.
The rest of the day drags on forever. My heart’s in my throat when I finally knock on Gretchen's door.
"It's unlocked, Jason," she calls out.
The only light is from a couple of flickering candles on her desk and it takes me a moment to realize that Gretchen is sitting cross-legged on small sofa, watching me with that mischievous smile of hers. When I see her, she pats the cushion next to her in an invitation for me to join her.
"Do you ever imagine what I look like naked?" she asks out of the blue, catching me completely off guard.
