Chapter 2
"What?" I asked again, afraid she had noticed my right ear lobe was slightly larger than my left.
She shook her head, a frown on her face. "You're not like other guys, are you?"
"No, I suppose not."
She nodded, absently picking at the scuff mark. Without warning she kissed me, hard, pinning me against the wall. Once I recovered from the initial shock I began to return the kiss but I was always a step behind. Her tongue forced its way past my lips, so alive and electric. My hand went to her back; her hand went to my crotch as she drove me down onto the bed. Tentatively I moved my hand down to her ass and she boldly shoved her hand down the front of my jeans.
She stopped kissing and stared at my crotch, her hand squeezing up and down my length. Her hands scrabbled at my jeans, tugging them down to my thighs until I was exposed and erect before her. Zara muttered, "No fucking way!"
Before I had a chance to speak she had me in her mouth. Someone was pounding on the door, jiggling the handle and demanding beer. The shouting and pounding and sucking continued unabated for several minutes until the knocker finally took the hint and went away. All I could hear, aside from the thudding of my heart, were the soft wet sounds of her mouth sliding over my cock.
The feel of her tongue was too much and my whole body tensed. With a groan I came, eliciting a muted whimper from Zara. She continued bobbing for another minute, the sensations intensifying with each bob, drawing out more groans from deep within me body. Finally, she ceased and let me slide from her lips. She sat back against the wall and dabbed at the corners of her mouth before sucking on her finger.
I lay there, stunned and pleased and vulnerable and invincible all rolled into one. The feeling of invincibility faded, though, and I gradually became aware I was lying naked in front of a girl with my now-limp cock on full display. Embarrassed, I started to pull my pants up but her hand stopped me.
"Don't; seeing it pleases me," she said. "Your very first blowjob?" I nodded dumbly and she smiled. "Thought so. What did you think?"
I tried to put it into words but my vocabulary failed me. "It was amazing. I-" How could I describe something made me feel so many different emotions all at one time? Instead, I shrugged and shook my head.
She nodded in agreement. "Kneel on the floor in front of me." I did and she scooted to the edge of the bed. Zara gathered her kilt in her hands, slowly revealing the pale flesh of her thighs, the serpent tattoo that started on her left hip and rose towards her abdomen, and the black cotton of her panties. She pulled my face to her crotch and I stared at it. "Kiss it," she commanded.
I pressed my lips against the dry fabric. Zara shifted and I felt soft yielding flesh under the panties. Her musk filled my nose and I became light-headed. I kissed her again, my mouth open slightly and her hips rose slightly to meet me. Without hesitation I licked her and the cotton turned from dry to damp to wet and then I could faintly taste her. I tongued her roughly through her panties, wanting, needing more until she pushed my head back with one hand.
Those green eyes, punctuated by black eyeliner, stared at me intently. I couldn't tell if she was pleased or angry but I did recognize her surprise. I don't know how long she held me there but with each passing moment I became more desperate to taste her again. Finally, her eyes narrowed and with her free hand she pushed her panties down her thighs, leaving me to pull them the rest of the way off. The hand holding my hair slowly relaxed and dropped away.
I bent down and softly kissed her inner thigh. She tasted like fall, of rain and the sweet smell of slowly decaying leaves. I kissed higher and now I could truly smell her. I paused and, for the first time in my life, gazed at a woman's sex. Neatly trimmed black pubic hair framed her glistening folds. The swollen clit bulged slightly under its hood, calling to me. I could feel her heat on my face, drawing me in. My tongue parted her, delved into her, and dipped into her nectar. A guttural moan filled my ears and my soul fell into her, drowning happily in the pool of her wet heat.
With slow and tender licks and kisses, I explored every nook and cranny of her, liberating her juices, coating my mouth and chin. Low, primal sounds filled the room only to be muted by the sudden pressure of her thighs against my head. I pushed on, my tongue darting and flicking and she trembled and shook beneath me. Her thighs hugged my face, each squeeze more powerful than the last, cutting off the blood to my brain until the world dimmed.
When I came to my senses Zara had me by my hair and was twisting my head painfully to the side. Tremors rolled through her body and she looked down at me triumphantly. Her face was flush and sweat beaded on her forehead. With a crooked smile she pushed me away playfully in an odd display of affection. I wiped my face with my shirt and realized my erection was back.
Zara looked at the clock and bolted from the bed. "Shit! My curfew is in ten minutes!"
I couldn't believe my ears. "You live in Mother Mary?" I teased. She shot me a dangerous look as she smoothed down her skirt. To make up for the slight I offered to walk her back.
We hustled across campus to Mary Hall, the lone all-women dorm on campus. Also known as Mother Mary, the Nunnery, or, more crudely, the Virgin Vault, it was the only dorm that had a curfew. A favorite of over-protective parents to guard their daughters against all the evils of college life, it was also the only dorm with a waiting list. We got to the front doors with two minutes to spare according to the large antique clock over the entrance. Zara kissed me lightly on the lips before disappearing inside. I was walking on air on my way home before realization set in.
I had forgotten to get her number and I didn't know her last name. I'm such an idiot.
The following week I walked slowly past Mary Hall on the way to and from class hoping I'd run into Zara, even walking out of my way whenever I had time. I had her panties which I had found balled up under the edge of my bed and I carried them with me like I was the prince in a perverted version of Cinderella. Not once did I get a glimpse of her. I slept with the shirt I had worn that night. I hadn't washed it and I could still smell her on it.