The warm evening breeze of August gently rustles the cottonwood and oak leaves.  Most of the grounds of the small, midwestern  American college  are quiet.  Professors are polishing off the details of lesson plans, and a few upper-class, off-campus students have filtered back into town.   Classes have not yet started but are soon on the horizon.  The only scheduled activity is the perennial “Welcome Mixer.”  Begun many years ago, this affair is the first taste of social life for the newest incoming class.  It’s nine o'clock on a Saturday night now and the fun is already well underway.  The DJ has the dancing crowd gyrating, and some forbidden drinks and substances are secretly available.  It‘s going to be a wild first night for the approximately four hundred frosh students.

Outside the arena, a few shy or stoned stragglers are still arriving at the all-freshman affair.  Identification and tickets are being checked at the door to ensure only newbies are attending.  They’ve enrolled from all the regional high schools and many from out-of-state.  This higher learning institution is renowned as a hopping party place.  Education barely surpasses entertainment.

Meanwhile, into the adjacent parking lot cruises a stunning pure white custom Corvette.  Behind the wheel, shutting down the turbo-charged engine is the car’s owner, Kayla Cobran.  Ms. Cobran is a senior at the college.  She is also the most notorious of all the many hot coeds.  Most of the students and faculty know her name.  Professors address her as Ms. Cobran. 

To Her closest girlfriends, she is Kayla.  

However, to the male population this towering temptress has rightfully assumed the title of “Queen Cobra”. 

It has become mandatory that all guys address Her only by that title.  The consequences for deviating from that norm can be quite severe.  Ask the few that have challenged the title, and felt the retribution of Her avid, and obedient male followers.  Indeed, She is a demanding empress.        

She checks herself out in the lit visor mirror.  Putting a cover coat of lip gloss on, She then settles back into the contoured bucket seat and admires the form-fit ensemble She has selected for the night’s pursuit.  It’s savage and sexy, reflecting Her treacherous persona.  She is satisfied with the level of racy hotness she projects.  The Queen Cobra grins in anticipation as She ascends from the Stingray’s black patent interior.

The parking lot lighting reflects off of Her shimmering snake-skin outfit.  A pair of white leather platform pumps elevate this spectacular siren to well above six feet of bewitching beauty.  ‘Beware, boys,’ She thinks to herself, ‘I am coming to get some of you.’  Lightly fluffing Her luxurious blonde mane, She begins strutting towards the arena.  Ms. Cobra, like the king cobra snake, is dangerous, venomous, and lethal.  Unlike the snake, however, She is also highly aggressive and sinfully seductive.

In the past three years that The Queen has prowled the campus, the clubs, and the parties in this town, She has counted over one hundred of the hottest guys at this school as Her victims.  Highly selective, as of course only She can be, they are first vetted targets, then vulnerable prey and eventually vanquished conquests.  There is little doubt She alone rules a sizeable portion of the male population of this college.  She is here tonight at the mixer to inspect the new freshman boys.  As a class, they have no idea what’s in store.  However, soon, some of them will.  She will invade and conquer and show no mercy.

Approaching the arena entry, She flicks the snap on Her bolero jacket.  It separates swiftly to display two of the largest, most perfectly shaped tits ever created.  They are barely contained in a shamelessly brief silk bustier spanning a cavernous cleavage between their twin masses.  Shapely legs, that soar to unbelievable heights, are encased in wicked silver/black reptilian wrapping.  Her gait is that of a runway model, sensuous, arrogant, and instantly arousing.  All hail The Queen!

The handsome bouncers at the door are a couple of Her many personal properties, and bow deeply as Queen Cobra nears.  She stops to allow each to go to all fours briefly and kiss Her stiletto-heeled pumps. 

“Good evening, My pets,” She purrs.  They mumble their adoration.  “Are there fresh specimens in here for Me?” She inquires.  Both describe several good-looking males that they have scrutinized and questioned and carded as eighteen.  Additionally, they detail one in particular which they believe will certainly whet her appetite.  

The Queen smiles lasciviously. “I’ll certainly find that one.”  Then, without hesitation, She enters unquestioned, the only upper-class coed in attendance.  Let the quest commence.

Ms. Cobra gazes upon the youthful gathering as a tigress might a herd of baby antelope.  So much new, delicious flesh to explore.  So many innocent boys to exploit and violate.  She watches as eyes begin to be drawn to Her divine presence.  She basks in the power that She exudes.  Of course, no guy will be brave enough to approach and that’s exactly how She wants it.  The Queen is a man-eating huntress.  She alone selects the mark.

Circulating at the perimeter of the dance area, Her sinister stare falls on several potential targets.  She inspects their physiques and observes their movements.  Both ogle this dazzling knockout with obvious lust.  She rejects each as unworthy and proceeds onward.  A third specimen is soon spotted.  This one is the cutest little guy with wavy black hair and a fit bod.  She watches him from the side for a moment and decides to pounce. 

This will be “Number One.” 

Ms. Cobra begins undulating to the beat, slithering between bodies until She is close to his strapping physique.  Turning with the beat he sees Her nearing.  He suddenly stops dancing with the two babes before him and gawks open-mouthed at Her.  The desire in his eyes tells Her everything.  This one will be effortlessly overwhelmed.  She boldly grasps his hips and pulls his groin against Her thrusting pelvic area.  He’s almost a half of a foot shorter than The Queen thus the cock bulge in his jeans presses against Her thighs.  Undulating on it, She feels it rise and expand uncontrollably.  Her fingers guide the surging organ upward as She leans and rims his earlobe.

This brazen assault is Ms. Cobra’s standard modus operandi.  Few have ever resisted.  All have responded physically.  This one seems to be medium-sized but showing potential by engorging rapidly.  Stepping back She briefly observes his quivering form and the acceptable lump.  He’ll do for an appetizer.

Ms. Cobra pulls the guy back in and persists with Her lewd dance moves.  Her swiveling torso teases his member around and around, around and around, then up and down, up and down.  He tries in vain to sway with Her, but She is so devilishly stimulating that he ceases any movement at all in seconds.  He is captivated by this drop-dead gorgeous diva’s grinding.  He’s never experienced this level of sexual craving in his life.  He stands petrified, unable to prevent The Queen from quickly unsnapping and unzipping his jeans.

In the dim light, only a few see Her hand dive deep down inside his denims.  She finds what She desires.  It’s plump, seven or so inches long and oozing pre-cum.  The blank look on his face causes The Queen to smile triumphantly.  Her hand caresses his balls, then slides up the sensitive underside of his stiff rod.  As She expected, the boy begins to desperately hump the palm of Her hand.  Abruptly She exits his boxers.  Her hand elevates and smears his jizz across the stunned boy’s lips.

“Ummm, You…Are…Mine,” Queen Cobra hisses loud enough to be heard over the pulsing music.  The guy slowly nods his head in agreement.  She hooks his hard bicep and easily moves the bewitched boy away from the shocked girls and through the startled dance crowd.  They quickly advance toward the entry, parting a bunch of dazed, horny lads as they go.  She ignores their pitiful moans and groans, tugging Her first victim outside.

The night air is still warm, and a few guys and gals have exited the arena and gathered to enjoy the evening freshness.  The Queen casually surveys them, while asking the dude in Her clutches,  “What’s your name, cutie-pie?”

“Andy.” He manages in a shaky drawl.

She leans down and wantonly licks his cheek.  In so doing, She looks directly over at the group again and surprisingly spots the promising prey that her “bouncer boys” had described earlier.  Queen Cobra lets out a guttural growl as her teeth sink sumptuously into Andy's skin and her view focuses on loose, white slacks. Not twenty feet away is a large and quite distinct bulge in those slacks.  A flaccid member nearly the size of Andy’s rock-hard boner.  The Queen feels a tingling in Her already moist temple. 

‘Now, that one looks prime,’ She informs herself, catching his wandering gaze.  As his eyes focus, She runs a hand down Andy’s heaving chest and onto his throbbing lump.  Then, The Queen flirtatiously touches Her frosted top lip with the tip of Her tongue while She strokes.  Andy quivers and the new nearby hunk mouths, “Uhhh,” watching Her brazen exhibition.  

Whispering into Her current thrall’s ear, “Well, Andy-baby, see that Vette?” She gestures to the lone vehicle in the neighboring lot by raising Her hand and activating a remote.  The passenger side door pivots up and open.  A soft red glow illuminates the interior.

“Yes,” he gulps.

“Go get in it.  I’ll join you soon.”  With that order, She slaps his tight butt hard.  He whines, certainly not wanting to leave Her side.  She gives him a gentle shove and he reluctantly trots over, hesitating at the coupe’s open doorway.  Expectantly he looks back to Her like a scared puppy.  She blows Andy a kiss, ala Marilyn Monroe, and he disappears inside the gleaming supercar.  Another pressed button and the door seals him in.  The Queen chuckles wickedly. 

Queen Cobra then turns towards Her next delectable dupe.  Time to score Number Two…