|
|
Stimulating Stories About College Sex
A Compilation of Literate Erotica
The Jerky Question
by Harry Merkin
This
short story is a work of
fiction. Names, characters,
places and incidents
either are the product of
the author’s vivid
imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual human
beings, living or dead,
business enterprises,
events or locales is
entirely coincidental.
I was introduced to Becky, a
geology student at our
college who was really cute
and brainy. We became
friendly, had a few study
dates, and a couple of real
dates.
She invited me
to a weekend geology field
trip to west Texas. We
decided to use my truck and
share a motel room to
economize, but she made it
extremely clear we were just
friends and NOTHING was going
to happen.
The first
night, she took her pajamas
out of her overnight suitcase and went
into the bathroom to change.
I took off my shirt and
hiking shorts, got in bed,
and propped a book on my
thighs. She made a sound like
a little squeal on reopening
the door. I looked up. Becky
just stared at me for a
while (it looked like she was
thinking of something to
say) and eventually asked,
“Don’t you have pajamas?”
“Nope.“
“You didn’t bring any or you
don’t have any?”
“It’s the latter.”
“I didn’t expect you would be naked.”
“I’m not. These are tightey
whiteys.” (as I spread my
knees and pointed at my
crotch)
She smiled and said, “I’ll
find something else to look
at.”
She turned on the TV and the
first image was a preview of
their ‘Adult Channel’
showing a couple in a steamy
embrace. She quickly went
through the next few
channels and finally settled
on the ‘Lucha Libre’
wrestling show, even though
it was in Spanish, and she had learned only a few words while growing up on the family ranch.
After a few minutes, she
commented, “Those women seem
very husky.”
“They’re not.”
“But they are. Look at their muscles.”
“Yeah, but look at their
wigs. They are
cross-dressers.”
“Oh my God. They show that on TV?”
“It probably has high ratings.”
She
turned off the TV, produced a
hefty book, got in bed, and
started to read. I turned to
her and asked, “Is that a
geology book?”
“No,
it’s for another class, this
one is, The History of the Goths.”
“I didn’t realize there was
that much to say about them.
Does it have any pictures?”
“Yes, a few.”
I went toward her bed to look.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to see some of the pictures.”
“Okay.”
I
got in bed next to her and
she showed me illustrations
of Middle Age warriors and
castles and battles.
“I thought you meant the modern Goths.”
“I thought they were gone,
actually pacified and
assimilated.”
“No. They can be found in
many large cities in Europe
and the US.”
“My professor hasn’t said
anything about that.”
“He probably doesn’t know.”
“Oh, I’m sure he does. He is
an authority on the Goths.
He’ll probably cover that near
the end of the semester.”
“Let me know if he does.”
----------
She
startled me awake by
grabbing my big toe and
shaking it.
“Get dressed fast. I overslept.”
“I need to piss.”
”Okay, but hurry. We have to
meet the group at the ranch
gate in 22 ½ minutes.”
As
I started to dress, she
asked, “Are you putting on
the same clothes from
yesterday?”
“Yeah, they are still clean.”
She
rolled her eyes and picked
up a shiny rock hammer.
“You’re not going to hit me with that? Are you?”
“Of course not, I got you an
early birthday present.”
“You are so sweet. This is
my very first rock hammer.”
I gave her a kiss on the
cheek and her blush was
intense.
I finished buttoning my
shirt and she handed me the
hiking shorts.
----------
We got to the ranch gate 10
minutes late, but only half
of the group was there. She
went to talk to the few
girls and I went over to
meet the guys. One asked,
“Are you with Becky?’
“Yeah, we drove out
yesterday and stayed at the
Cactus Motel.”
“In the same room?"
“Yeah.”
“Have you known her long?”
“We met almost two months ago.”
Another guy said, “We had no idea she had a boyfriend.”
----------
The
morning was actually
interesting and Becky was
busy adding her samples to my
knapsack. The tour leader
kept us mostly in the shade
and he had a great sense of
humor. He even told a joke
about armadillo copulation
and Becky laughed at it. She
did not blush when she saw me
looking at her while
smiling.
----------
The lunch break was in the
courtyard of the main ranch
house. Without any comedic
training or intention, Becky
provided the entertainment.
They still talk about it
years later.
----------
People went to their cars
and trucks to get their
food. We sat in a circle
around a large fountain. One
of the guys brought out the
biggest piece of beef jerky
anyone had ever seen. Becky,
thinking the jerky was
homemade, asked (innocently
and seriously) during a lull
in the conversation, “Do you
jerk your own meat?”
Everybody heard her
and everyone started
laughing. After at least a
minute of uncontrolled
laughter, Becky turned to me
with tears in her eyes. She
asked if we could go
somewhere else. We took our
lunches to the porch of one
of the outbuildings. I held
her while she sobbed. She
eventually asked, “Why was
my question so funny?”
“You asked him if he
pleasured himself. You
employed a euphemism for
masturbation.”
I had never seen anyone
blush the way she did. She
blurted, “I’m so clueless.”
I
wiped away one of her tears.
“You are very intelligent
yet naïve and very, very
pretty. You had a
sheltered upbringing being home schooled on a big ranch.”
Becky, after a long pause, “I’m so glad you are here.”
Me,
“Yesterday, I thought I
liked you. Now, I’m so
certain.”
We looked into one another's
eyes for a long time with my hands on her waist. No
words were said because no
words needed to be said. Our
lips came together when we
heard them start the Jeeps
for the afternoon tour. We
kept kissing until one of
them was driven partially
into our porch and the driver
honked the horn. Becky took
my hand and said, “Don’t
ever let go. Please, don’t
ever let go.”
Late
that afternoon, everyone was tired, dusty and loaded with rock samples,
as we trudged up a rocky slope to the parked jeeps. The donut-burners
of La Migra were waiting for
us. Their biggest guy shouted, "Stop! Are all of y'all U.S. citizens?"
Totally blond Becky stepped forward and shouted back, "Sí, Señor." The
officer couldn't stop laughing and neither could we. Becky was very
popular that evening.
----------
We went back to our room in
the Cactus Motel after the
brisket and ribs supper with the group, and
resumed kissing as soon as
the door was locked. After a
while, she unbuttoned my
shirt and I helped her take
off the dress she had made
from a pair of overalls. She
asked if she could remove my
hiking shorts. I took off
her ‘Geology Major - That’s Gneiss’ T-shirt.
Underwear now came off very
fast.
(Becky’s “accidented
stratigraphy” panty was
startlingly colorful. I had
imagined her to be a plain
white, high-waist brief sort
of girl. Yes, I admit it, I
had often imagined her
wearing just her underwear,
and frequently less, much
less – starting when we were
introduced. She had seen
these panties at a store
about a year before we met.
Since the pattern reminded
her of very deformed
sedimentary strata, she
bought all they had, even
some one size larger. She
kept only seven in her
underwear drawer at a time,
labeled I, II, III, … up to
VII, one for every day of the
week. Once I had gotten to
know her deeply (pun
definitely intended), I began
calling them “earthquake
panties” because the pattern
looked like a psychedelic
rendering of a seismograph
tracing. And also, because
Becky could make our bed
shake at over 7.0 on the
Richter scale after my
prolonged probing of the
intricate folds and crevices
associated with a favorite
low summit of her gently
undulating topography.)
We embraced naked, kissed
for a long while, and then
she whispered in my ear, “Do
you jerk your own meat?”
“Let’s go to
the bathtub. This could get messy.”
I
closed the shower curtain and Becky turned on the water. I got the soap
and asked her to raise her arms. She was ticklish when I lathered her
armpits and ecstatic when I did her breasts. I slipped behind her and
slid the soap up and down her upper thighs, then back and forth over her
pubic hair, and slowly along the outside of her labia. She trembled
when my finger slipped in between her labia. I went slowly, then sped
up, then slowed again until she asked me to speed up. Her orgasm was
amazing. She asked me to do it again and then came in less than a
minute.
Now
she picked up the soap from the tub to wash my armpits and my crotch.
She rinsed me, pressed close, held my erection up to her vulva, smiled,
and asked, "Do you want to come in?"
"Should I go get a condom?"
"No need for that, I'm not fertile for at least six more days, maybe eight."
I tried to push in but it was a bit tight. She said, "Do it!"
Neither of us saw the thin trickle of blood that went down the drain.
She had a vaginal orgasm and I ejaculated as her waves of pleasure milked me dry.
----------
The End
Harry Merkin (a nom de guerre)
is a dick-brain who is more
articulate than an arthropod
and has many ways with words.
He tries desperately not to
write like Edward
Bulwer-Lytton, but often
fails.
NOTES
A. This short story is a fabrication.
B. Using geological or topographical terms to describe the intimate female form can also be seen in the last line of this poem:
Parting
by William Butler Yeats
He. Dear, I must be gone
While night Shuts the eyes
Of the household spies;
That song announces dawn.
She. No, night's bird and love's
Bids all true lovers rest,
While his loud song reproves
The murderous stealth of day.
He. Daylight already flies
From mountain crest to crest
She. That light is from the moon.
He. That bird...
She. Let him sing on,
I offer to love's play
My dark declivities.
Photo Props acquired for proposed
stimulating images or short
videos. – overall dress
& Becky’s “accidented
stratigraphy” panty to be worn by a model.
|
