Shania sits at her laptop computer in her spacious, semi-darkened bedroom. Her privacy is assured as her family is out at her aunt's house until ten o'clock. She is wearing a Shania Twain cotton T-shirt and pink panties. The evening is warm enough to leave the windows open. She is home from Nielson's College for the summer break. She has time to spare. She does not want to waste it so she has given herself a project, a goal. She looks at the empty white screen; a weak lamp above the desk lights the keyboard. The submission guidelines on the short-story site she found online state 3000 words minimum, and 5000 maximum. The winning entry will be awarded $500! She waits patiently for inspiration.

The teacher on her Creative Writing course at Nielson told her, "Write what you know."

Shania sits deep in thought, pondering what she knows.

"Write about your experience," he tells them.

At the tender age of eighteen and eight months, she does not know a great deal. She still lives at home with her mum in the spacious bungalow where she was born. She scans back over the recent years of her short life; prep school, high school. A prom night she did not enjoy. She has one weekend a month with her dad in the neighboring city, but that is nothing to write about. They just watch a movie and eat at some fancy restaurant. He spends all evening pawing his new wife.

There have been a few family holidays before her dad left with his secretary five years ago. She attends a few parties but she neither drinks alcohol nor smokes, certainly not weed, like some of her friends so they are a bit of a damp squib. Sometimes she goes out with her mum, generally for a meal somewhere and then a few drinks in a bar. Shania drinks soda water with lime and ice. Her mum is trying to find a new man. She admits to Shania, after a few cocktails, that she misses sex and wants to find a fuck-buddy. Shania tells her that it is too much information for her innocent mind to assimilate and asks her to talk about something else. So that's not a suitable subject.

She has attended college since last year. She has been out with a few boys. They all wanted her to make a video where they would get paid ten thousand dollars as long as there was a cum-shot involved, preferably in her mouth or over her face and breasts, they explained. They wanted her to be in the videos because she has great tits and her face looks beautiful, so they told her. She did not go out with them again. It seems the universal pastime at college these days is to make porn videos for posting online. She watched a few on Pornhub with Jill but was never tempted to participate, even if there was some money to be made. Her Mum was well-off and her Dad sent her money every month.

 Even Shania's sex-starved mum would be disappointed with her if she saw her in one of those porno videos. Her friend Melanie showed her, with considerable pride, the video she had made with three seniors during the previous semester. They managed three cum shots between them, one on her breasts and two on her face. The video is high on the list of most-watched college videos. Melanie is a star! She told Shania she wanted to go into porn as a career if there is such a thing. She had already been to two auditions. She was going to film a glory-hole next week, she proudly informed her. Shania had no idea what she was talking about. She would have to look for that on Pornhub, she decided. Again, not a subject to write about.

She chose to go out with a girl after her bad experiences with boys. It was fine. Neither of them was interested in sex so they got along well for a few brief months. They kissed a few times, but it never went any further. Gloria wanted to play with her pussy but Shania decided that she was simply not keen on the idea. Shania's review of her life led her nowhere. She had very few life experiences worthy of a novel, or even the basis for a short story.

She is still a virgin, a rare thing in the twenty-first-century college environment. She is keeping the boys at arm's length until she feels ready; she is not ready yet, she has decided. She knows who she wants to be first. It is not any of the juvenile, lecherous youths who attend Nielson. She wants to give her virginity to one very particular man; the man of her dreams.

She sleeps in his dreams every night. He holds her and whispers sweet things in her ear. He strokes her, plays with her breasts, and puts his strong hands all over her body. He makes love to her every night, fucking into her hot body with his rigid cock, pumping slowly until they both explode together, every night. Every night she rubs herself to an orgasm. It will not happen for real, ever, she knows that, but she dreams of what might be, one day. Again, not something she can write about.

 She wants to be a professional writer, a novelist. She knows she has to start somewhere. She has written a few one-page articles for the college magazine but nothing more than a few hundred words. She has decided that writing short stories for magazines and online sites would be good practice while she attends Nielson for another two years. She sits at her desk, playing with her short blonde hair, chewing a few stray ends in the corner of her mouth. Her left foot is up on the seat, tucked under her right thigh. She leans her cheek on her knee and thinks. She continues to sit, unmoving, thinking, hoping, even willing inspiration to appear, as if by magic. She begs as if the Muse will answer her prayers. Sadly, nothing springs to mind. She glances in the mirror beside the desk; all she sees is herself. There is no inspiration coming from that direction.

 Disappointed, she opens her web browser and checks her Facebook, What's App, Tik Tok, Instagram, and Twitter pages for anything new. She notes two friend requests, which she allows without looking to see who they are; she just wants more friends than her roommate, Jill. Jill is sleeping with Noel in another housing complex off-campus. She has the small room to herself for three nights a week in term time. She scrolls down her news-feed page; there is nothing exciting or even remotely interesting. There is a quite nice, white cat doing somersaults, but she cannot think of a story to fit that. She tries to resist the temptation and go back to her short story, but it has been about forty minutes since she last looked; something might have happened in all that time that she desperately needs to know about.

She opens the fan page for her favorite boy band, The Steel Washing Machine. They are coming to her city in a month; she has two tickets to their concert. She might ask her mum to go with her if she does not find anyone else in the meantime. There are five of them; her favorite is Kenny Major, the bass guitarist. She messages him almost every day, telling him how much she loves him. She has posted several selfies, all decent though. She knows many girl fans send topless or even naked shots, but she is not like that. She told him about the tickets earlier today. She asked if she could meet him backstage after the concert. She has not had a reply but she knows that is normal with bands like his. He must get hundreds of such messages and requests every day, maybe thousands. At twenty-six, he is not so much older than her. Shania has all their albums on her iPhone and knows every word of every song.

Kenny has posted some news and a few recent pictures. Several of them show him posing with different girls before a concert last weekend. One of the girls is around the same height as Shania. She looks a little similar, with the same haircut even. She likes the way he fits his right arm around the girl's shoulder. It looks in the picture as if his right hand is on her right breast. She guesses it is not actually touching her breast but it certainly looks as if it is. It is just hanging an inch or so in front of it. If he flexed his wrist, he could hold the whole breast in his strong hand.

Shania wonders what it would feel like to have his hand on her breast. She wants to feel his hand on her breast. She wants to feel both of his hands on both of her breasts. Her breasts are adequate, she feels, better than the girl in the picture. She looks about a B-cup. Shania had just bought her first C-cup a few weeks ago. Her mum helped her choose it from a little boutique in town. She hopes they will stop growing now she is older. She does not want them any bigger. They are quite a handful as it is.

She feels her left breast with her left hand. Her right hand is clicking on the pictures; she keeps returning to the one with the hand on the breast. She downloads it and opens it in her picture viewer. She enlarges the picture and crops it until she has just the two heads and down to their waists. She squeezes her breast through the thin T-shirt. Her right hand is no longer busy with the picture. She squeezes both breasts. She squeezes quite hard. She likes the feeling as she molds and pulls at the firm mounds of flesh.

She slips the T-shirt over her head and places it under her bottom on the chair. She looks in the mirror once again; she likes what she sees. She keeps in good shape and eats properly; her mum sees to that. She recalls a video her mother liked to watch many times when she was a toddler. The good-looking singer came out of the television screen and danced with the watching girl. It was a sort of cartoon. Shania tries to remember the name of the band but all she can think of is "A-ha," which surely can't be right. She quite enjoyed the song but it was a hundred years old.

The reflection in the dim light of the mirror alters, shifts, and changes; Kenny is in there, in the shadows, watching her. He reaches out his right hand; she takes it, and he slides across the desk from the mirror to the computer monitor, his picture becomes real, alive, and warm. He really is here, in the room, squeezing her hands. He drops them and moves his hands directly to her breasts, no delay, no asking permission. He is gently rolling her nipples between his fingers. He is speaking sweet words of love and devotion, telling her how beautiful she is, how he will stay with her forever, love her, make babies with her, and give her everything she could ever wish for.

 Shania smiles at him, baring her even white teeth as he continues his outrageous but effective flattery. She does not speak, she just listens and watches. She feels a tingle and the first hint of moisture between her legs. When she gets aroused, she gets very wet. She has been pleasuring herself for some time now, she knows what happens when she masturbates. She knows very well; she does it every night with Kenny in her bed. Right now, it is just dampness more than anything else. She blows the picture up once more, now it is just Kenny, the intruding girl is gone. He is close to her now, life-sized. His smile brightens the room. He appears naked now, his clothing somehow melted away in the transition from the mirror to the monitor. He is erect, proud, virile, and oh so handsome. His cock bobs around in front of her. It is long and thick, the head spreads like a mushroom. It is red and pink and flesh-toned and hard, like an iron rod.

He is talking again, telling her what to do, telling her to take off her panties. He wants to see her naked. He tells her she has perfect breasts; not too big and not too much of a handful. He tells her he wants to see her virgin slit, her almost hairless slit. She keeps her pubic hair trimmed very short. He loves breasts, he tells her. He also loves to see young girls' sex, preferably hairless, like hers. Shania stands and quickly gets naked; she slides her panties off her feet and flicks them onto the bed. She sits down again on the swivel chair at her desk. She adjusts the webcam on top of the monitor. She clicks it on so that the small screen opens in the top right corner of her monitor. It clearly shows her body from the head to the knees. She makes sure that she has not connected it to a website; it is just showing him what he wants to see. He tells her what he wants. She complies, willingly.

 Her right-hand slips between her legs, and she spreads them as far as she is able on the chair. She places her feet on the desk at both ends. The picture shows her knees at the edges of the screen. Her young pussy gapes open, glistening pink with her slick juice. Her tapered, manicured fingers slip over her lips, spreading them apart while her middle finger dips slightly into her pussy, smoothing the moisture over the whole area. She slides her index finger inside together with her middle finger. She pushes deeper inside until her palm touches her pubic bone. She pumps, slowly, gently, feeling the heat spread through her body. Kenny is smiling, concentrating his gaze on her pussy. She withdraws her wet fingers and tastes her juice, licking her fingers clean. Kenny smiles and tells her he likes her doing that. She resumes touching herself. She rubs in a circular motion all over her lips, pressing hard on her clitoris. Her left hand spreads her lips, exposing the erect nub of flesh. He speaks again, telling her to put her fingers inside again. She obliges; first one, her middle finger, then two, her index finger. She pumps and slides slowly; she keeps the pressure firmly on her clitoris as she rolls her hand over her pubic bone. She presses hard, the way she does almost every night. His face leans forward, close enough that he can smell her virgin pussy. His grin and his voice tell her she is doing it right. He tells her he wants to see her orgasm, up close. He wants to see the juice she makes, taste it even. He knows she squirts, she has told him so many times in her dreams. Her fingers pump more quickly now, her left hand holds her left breast, massaging the globe of flesh in large circles. She pinches her erect nipple every few seconds. As she does so, she moans in pleasure. Her right-hand rubs in tight, hard circles over her clitoris. The clear juice spreads under her hand. Her upper thighs are slick with her juice. She needs more friction, she is too wet. She presses harder; her hands work faster, and the thrusts become deeper. Her feet are up off the desk now, high in the air, her legs forming a wide V in front of the screen. She cannot open them any further for his lustful gaze.

He gets more animated, issues more detailed demands, more explicit instructions. He holds his erection in his right hand, pumping slowly. A tiny drop of fluid appears at the tip. He swirls his hand around the distended head, spreading the oily drops, lubricating himself. He is ready. She beckons him into her, using her fingers to guide his rigid cock into her virgin pussy. There is no resistance; she has been ready for this for a long time, ever since she saw him on the television. His long, slick cock fills her with heat, a hard rod of searing hot iron. He is big but no bigger than she imagined and certainly not too big for her young, athletic body to handle.

He encourages her and tells her to keep going. "Come for me," he rasps. "Fuck me, take my cock deeper in your tight pussy. Make me come with you. Can you feel my cock filling your little virgin pussy? Can you feel me coming? I will fill you with so much cum you will be wet for a week."

He pumps into her as she sits on the desk, grasping the edge to keep her from sliding away from him. He pounds into her now with long, rapid, vigorous thrusts that fill her pussy, making a swishing sound with each thrust. She is now soaking, liquid runs down her backside, soaking her shirt.

 Shania gasps as her orgasm approaches. She can feel it building deep inside her, down in her lower spine, somewhere. She keeps her eyes glued to the screen. She is watching herself now, enjoying the spectacle of the young woman well on the way to a dizzying orgasm. The image on the screen is showing Kenny's backside pumping back and forth and her legs spread high and wide as she gazes over his shoulder. She hangs on his neck and he fucks her, faster now, faster; he is coming, she knows. She can feel his rigid cock throbbing, ready to explode and fill her with his seed.

The pressure is intense within her, her breasts are sensitive now, but sensitive in a way that requires more pressure, more squeezing, more pulling. Her whole body is about to ignite with the roaring flame of her orgasm. It is more than a flame as she listens to his sweet voice urging her on.

"Yes, let me fuck you. Feel my cock inside you, can you feel it banging hard deep in your tight young body. Come with me, Shania, come with me. I'm coming, coming, coming, now, oh fuck, I'm coming!"

She rubs, squeezes, and pulls, harder, faster, deeper. She begins to come. It is not simply one explosive shock to her system but an intense build-up of sensation within her whole body. Sparks fly inside her head, down to her breasts, and flash through her body, down to her pussy and hips. She shudders, cries out, and vibrates with explosive energy. Finally, she cums, the molten core of her body floods outwards, radiating intense heat and passion throughout her firm young body. She hears him roar as he thrusts harder and comes deep inside her. Shania roars back, her long, intense orgasm ripping through her tight body. She shudders, shakes, and vibrates as clear liquid spreads across her hand, dripping and dribbling with each spasm as she comes, again and again. Finally, she stops shaking. She looks down at her T-shirt; it is soaked with her squirts of pussy juice. She half-heartedly wipes herself dry with the sleeves of the T-shirt. Her arms are weak, her right hand is trembling. She licks her fingers, tasting herself and Kenny's cum, a mixture of juices. She inhales deeply.

Kenny steps back a little; his erection slides free from her clutching pussy. She dribbles his cum onto the T-shirt. She is off the desk, now, back in her chair. He stands closer to her. She looks up to see his dripping cock inches from her face. She is very willing to do what comes naturally. She grips him gently in her left hand and dips her head. She opens her mouth and sucks the wide crown into her mouth. He is still pumping cum out of his cock. Her mouth is open as she sucks the last few precious drops of his life-giving seed into her smiling mouth. She lets it sit on her tongue, savoring the taste. She shows him, her open mouth turned up to his smiling face. She swallows it down, overjoyed that she has been chosen for his special treatment.

She smiles as he tells her that he has had the best fuck of his life with her. He tells her that he wants to do it again, and soon. He makes her promise that she will be there every night. She promises to be here, naked and waiting for him, every night. She tells him she will do anything for him. She promises undying love and devotion; she wants to be his special girl. He blows her a kiss and steps back, his cock now deflated, spent, returning to normal. His clothes appear from nowhere. He is fully dressed in his black jeans, black T-shirt, and leather jacket. He fades from the room, gone, for now. She knows he will be back. She closes her web browser. The blinking cursor in the top left corner of the word document on her screen confronts her.

She has written nothing.

She is drained, drained of inspiration, drained of ideas, and completely clueless as to what she can write for her first short story. She sits, recovering her breath, relaxing, and coming down from the sexual high. She drops her head and rubs her face. She looks once again at the empty page. Her hands do not move towards the keyboard. She will give up for tonight and try again in the morning. She has the whole weekend to get it written.

 She decides that sleep is what she needs. She switches off the screen, plunging the room into almost complete darkness, just the low wattage lamp above her desk remains. She leaves it on all night. She brushes her teeth and gets into bed. She finds a clean T-shirt and panties to sleep in. She has promised that she will sleep naked when she is with the right man. She lies down under the sheet; she needs no duvet, tonight, in this summer heat. Her hands stray between her legs but she does not need another orgasm, one is enough for today. She wonders what Kenny Major is doing right now. She turns and cuddles the pillow, images of his strong and quick fingers playing with her naked body flash before her eyes. She tastes his juice on her tongue and smiles at the memory of him inside her. Time to sleep.

 A chime sounds on her computer; she has a message!