Appreciating Natural Beauty in the Serengeti

My first year in college was like so many other guys. I didn’t have a girl to share my thoughts, my fantasies, or my dick. I went through the high school dating, proms, and senior trips with the normal, shallow commitments. Those early commitments were strong enough to enable just enough intimacy to result in a many erotic moments where I got oral sex, hand jobs, experienced pussy, and I even fucked two virgins.

The one girl, however, who would cause me to block out all desires of others just didn’t materialize no matter how cordial, sincere, caring, and great at sucking pussy I was. In high school, even the most intimate moments will not prevent the fickle attitudes of teens from causing two people to look for something more in a new face at a party or crowd.

Just because your girl friend fucked you after the last party, didn’t mean she would stay with you until the end of the night at the next party. Just a glance and a hand up a skirt by a roving male, and your latest pink pussy would be filled with another guy’s dick. It’s brutal and competitive to be an alpha male.

I remember my early teenage years when looking at a pretty girl’s legs aroused my curiosity as well as my dick and led me to fantasize about easing my dick into a pink pussy. Geez, I can even remember looking at girls in elementary school before I knew anything whatsoever about sex and wanting to have their attentions without any notion that my dick could slide between a girl’s legs and penetrate deep into her body to complete my intimate desires. So, as an average guy, there is nothing more complete than having a girl in my thoughts all the time, anytime, and anywhere.

Waiting to see a dentist, I check out the girls signing in for appointments. Standing on a corner waiting for a light to change, I glance around to see which girl will elevate my interest. Department stores are full of prospective girls of my dreams, or should I say girls who make me dreams? Girls shopping for fragrances, clothes, or accessories are wonderful to observe, without staring of course, in order to inhale the beauty of their graceful movements, pleasant attitudes, and tastes.

Noticing girls, without stalking of course, in their natural habitat going about their daily lives provides the range of experiences needed for a guy to appreciate the one, future girl who will be his the ultimate attraction and center of affection. In the mean time, guys use every opportunity to use their aroused dicks to satisfy a willing female. I have met girls at the fine jewelry counter, fragrance areas, and shoe departments -- all for a quick fuck after work before they go home. They need it to relax, and I need it to keep from having to beat my meat every night. But I am in a college campus without a car and don’t even have as much freedom as I did in high school.

Girls of all types are the basis for my dreams. Dreams are less specific than fantasies. When dreams turn into fantasies, a guy’s dick becomes charged. For me, I get wet with precum as my mind races through various scenarios of what I would like to do with the girl I see. I realize that I can’t act out my dreams and let my fantasies drive me to an all out pursuit of a girl just my looking at her. Just because a girl in close proximity in class causes me to get a hard on, it’s not easy to approach her ask her to fuck me like she worked at a mall store.

So my problem as a freshman in college is that I have gathered all the observations and experience to fire my dreams and exercise my fantasies, but I have no one to share them with since I moved on campus. Guys in my dorm don’t seem to want any more than I had in high school. They are satisfied with a few dates that end with a hand job, oral sex, or even missionary style pussy in a car. I’ve had all of that. Some don’t make the effort to get dates, and they play video games, engage in sophomoric pranks, and beat their meat to divert their attention away from their lack of pussy. They aren’t looking for the girl who will be their ultimate center of affection.

So it’s the middle of the fall semester. I have been invited to some parties and met girls who want to meet guys who are going to take over their daddy’s business, who are pre-med students with straight A’s, or who expensive drive cars that most middle class people have never thought of owning. I wouldn’t say that the girls were shallow, but they were looking for a specific guy with a future that I can’t promise at this time.

My classes consist of the normal freshman courses such as English, Math, Biology, and an elective that was outside my area of interest, Art History. In Art History, an earthy looking girl who appearance is sort of disheveled sits next to me. She wears larger-than- life glasses, but they don’t look like they are a very high prescription, brown long hair that always seems to have several strands floating up with static electricity, plaid or plain shirts, denim jeans, and sandals. Her appearance seems to always be the same and not in step with any recent fashion trends.

To put it mildly, there is nothing about her that caused me to dream or charge my fantasies maybe except her butt which is nicely tight, or maybe her open shirt exposing the top of her small, bra-less breasts, or maybe her delicate soft-appearing hands, or maybe her slightly full lips with no lipstick, or maybe her green eyes and nicely appearing eyelashes, or maybe her perfectly-shaped nose, or maybe her slightly tanned toes showing through her sandals.

Oh my gosh, her name is Monica and she has such natural beauty that I completely overlooked her plainly simple, yet enticing features, until a month had gone by sitting next to her. Her understated beauty is capturing my thoughts. I appreciated how Monica contrasted the over-dressed, fashion conscious tarts who parade in and out of class like they are on a fashion runway.

I learned to appreciate her appearance. After sitting next to her for over a month of classes, I managed to say a few cordial hellos and how’s-everything, small-talk, chatting.
I don’t know if I cued her into action or what I did to result in her going into more conversational detail.

One day she asked, “Do you like jazz?”

I said, “I like all types of music. I’m not connoisseur, but I think jazz is very romantic.”

“Great,” she said in an excited tone. “Would you like to go to a small restaurant and listen to my husband’s band? Several of my friends are meeting there tomorrow night.”

Well, son-of-a biatch. A girl who I see as having unique qualities, one-of-a-kind breats, and the unstated beauty of Mona Lisa is married. To say I was shocked, disappointed, sad, and dismayed is, well, is conveying my exact thoughts. It’s not that I could be in love with her, but such a new type of girl would have been great to explore a bit more to find if she would be the one girl that would be the complete and ultimate center of my affection. I at least wanted a chance to fuck her.

Hoping not show my disappointment, I acted enthusiastic about her invitation, “Sure. I would like to go.”

I actually did like the idea of being in an adult environment instead of campus bars with the usual screaming singers with hoarse sounding voices all trying to convey some type of rage directed toward some drummed up evil in the world.

Besides, being underage I had to wear a wrist band in the campus bars, and it’s no fun going to a place where you can’t drink. I can get all the alcohol I want, so I don’t have to go to a bar that the law makes me a second class patron. I dislike being underage. Geezus, in Germany you can drink at 16.

I got a friend with a car to drive us to the restaurant. It is a place that serves a modest menu of items until 8 p.m., then it just serves drinks. All they do is card you if you order a drink. You don’t have to wear an armband or get stamped to show everyone you are underage. I felt more grown up and less like a pink-meat virgin. The waitresses were not teenagers and some were middle-aged with big breasts tastefully displayed enough for me to fantasize how many times their pussy had been sucked and fucked up to now.

We saw the table that Monica and her friends were sitting. There were at least a dozen of her friends at the table. After we sat down, I found that some of them were girl friends and wives of some of the other band members. One girl had model features and wore a nice mini dress. Her thighs were tan and I fantasized sucking her pussy as well as fucking her. My dick was getting hard as I looked at all the pussy around me.

The music was fine. It was sort of lively at times and sometimes sultry. It’s the sultry jazz that gets me into a romantic mood. I envision black and white movies of the 1940’s with beautiful ladies in padded shoulder dresses when I hear that type of jazz. Those were the magical years when ladies didn’t have the pill and sucked dicks and engaged in anal sex so they wouldn’t get pregnant. The girls of the 40’s wouldn’t admit they swallowed, but no car seats in that era had fabric protectant and the seats stained easily. You didn’t see stains on the seats back then, so the cum had to go somewhere.

Monica pointed out her husband who was playing sax. He was older than college-age from what I could see, and he was slightly chubby. Well, maybe I’m being diplomatic. He was quite a bit overweight. My prejudice thoughts come out in spite of my knowing not to judge people, so forgive me for sharing my description and asking how does a guy like that end up with a beautiful girl like Monica?

Forgive us young predators and sperm spreaders. It’s cruel in the Serengeti, and it’s paradise also. Sexual attractiveness, prowess, and dumb luck ensure that the best looking males compete for the best looking females so we can insert our dicks into the females of the herd. He just didn’t seem to have the looks to be a sperm-spreader although he is very talented.

If it weren’t a legal coupling, I would bow my head and engage in head-to-head in mortal combat to fight for the right to ease my dick into Monica’s pussy. A simple paper and prevents my competing for Monica’s pussy. That’s what he has over me. A piece of paper.

My friend and I talked. He was looking for pussy, but he didn’t do anything but talk to me. After about an hour, people were moving around changing seats and engaging in all types of conversation. Monica was cordial to me. Having invited me, she may have felt responsible for keeping me company, but I was feeling fine drinking the margaritas.

It seems that the crowd around the table was so familiar to the waiters, that I ended up being able to order drinks. No one asked my age, I guess, because I was considered part of the group with the band. This is nothing new. I drank regularly since I was 15, but in this case, I was not at home or in a dorm room. My friend was drinking too. I knew not to get into a car with anyone who had been drinking, but I threw caution to the wind and kept drinking. I was enjoying the night and couldn’t stop fantasizing about fucking Monica.

About 10 p.m., Monica noticed we had been drinking heavily and asked, “How are you guys going to be back to the dorm?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. Poor planning,” I admitted.

“No worries. I’m leaving and will drop you guys off. You can get your car tomorrow.”

My friend thought that was a great idea, so we left with Monica.

“Do you guys live in the same dorm?” she asked.

“No. James’ is a block away from mine,” I said.

“Ok. Just direct me, and I will drop off James.”

We got to James’ dorm and I said, “Thanks for driving to the restaurant.”

James responded, “No problem. I liked the band. Great evening Monica. Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem here either and nice meeting you!” she said.

About 10 seconds after James closed the door, and Monica reached over and grabbed my thigh. Oh geezus, my dick was getting warm and creeping up my pants.

“Thanks for coming to see the band,” she said as she gently caressed the inside of my thigh. I couldn’t get any closer to her because of the console between the seats.

“I really like your husband’s band. It was a great evening.”

She offered what I didn’t want to know, “We’ve been married ten years, since I was eighteen.”

Now knowing her age, I hoped she didn’t ask mine, “That’s nice.”

“I met him while he was playing in a bar and we got married really quickly. He plays late at night and after awhile, we just aren’t that romantic.”

OK, I’m not slow or naive at 18, so I jumped at the opening.

“I like to be romantic,” was all I could say. It was a bit corny, but I could have said anything at that time because she was now rubbing my dick through my pants.

“I have lots of friends near campus. You want to come?” she asked.

“Sure, I wanna cum.” I’m sure she got the pun.

She pulled the car in a parking lot near my dorm.

“Let me give you a preview.” She reached over and pulled the top of my pants down. I lifted up to assist her. She used her nice full lips to go down on my dick. I was ready for whatever she had in mind. She lifted up, and I kissed her deeply.

“OK. If you like, we will finish.”

“I’m ready to finish you anyplace you like.”

She pulled out of the parking lot as I pulled my pants up. A couple of minutes later we were walking up some stairs to an apartment. She had a key and unlocked the door.

“My friend’s place. It’s OK. I called her earlier and said we might be stopping by.”

Oh my gosh. I love how she was taking the lead. We walked in to a college-style apartment with little decoration. We sat on the couch. I immediately started kissing her and ran my hands through her hair. It felt so soft. That wild, static bearing, fly away hair that I saw for the last month in class, it now being gently caressed with my fingers running through it.

I licked her neck and moved down to her chest. She had on a one piece dress, loosely fit that hung over her delicately appointed frame. I helped her lift it over her head. Just as I observed in class, she had no bra, but she did have on black see-through underwear. I reached under them to touch her pussy. He stood up and I took her underwear off.

“Hey. You are still dressed,” she teased.

“Not for long,” I predicted.

As I was lifting off my T-shirt over my head, she was pulling my pants to the floor. She didn’t give me time to step out of them, and pulled my dick through my underwear and sucked it. Oh Geezus, I could have cum at any moment. I gently put my hands on each side of her head and lifted her off.

“Sorry, It’s been awhile. I can’t hold off if you keep doing that,” I cautioned.

She pulled my underwear down to my ankles, and I stepped out of my pants and underwear. I turned her and sat her on the edge of the couch. I got down between her legs, and she spread her knees far apart.

OH geezus. She had no pussy hair. I didn’t know what to say about that except that was the first waxed pussy I had ever seen, except on the web. Let me rephrase that. It was the first real live hairless pussy that I had ever seen.

I opened her pussy with my fingers and inserted my tongue. She was so clean. I used my tongue to caress her pussy lips and swirled it round and round. Then I went in and out. I pushed my tongue as far in as I could and just went round and round as long as I could before I got tired. When I lifted off, she raised my head and kissed me deeply.

Her nipples were erect and her breasts were smaller than average but nicely shaped. I licked each nipple and she laid her head back on the couch. I moved my tongue down to her stomach and proceeded to her left thigh. Then without lifting off her soft skin, I moved once again to lick and penetrate her pussy with my tongue.

She bent over and lifted my head off her pussy and whispered into my ear, “In class I was thinking that you might be a virgin, but I am really glad you aren’t.”

“I may be a virgin who has just read a lot of books and search a lot of websites,” I teased.

“You can’t learn what you are doing from a website.” I felt complimented.
“I may have practiced once or twice,” I admitted.

“Once or twice? Yeah, right. And I’m a virgin.”

“You are beautiful. You know I was very disappointed when you said you were married.”

“I thought you would be,” she offered. “You seemed to be checking me out in class lately.”

“Oh Geezus. Am I that obvious? I didn’t want to infringe on your privacy, but the more I saw you, the more I was interested in ... well in seeing you. Geezus, I wanted to see your pussy. I just can’t say anything but the truth. You fascinate me.”

"You had many kind words and you intrigued me. It was a compliment to be pursued with your eyes," she said in hushed whispers.

She kissed me deeply. I ran my tongue around hers. Then she laid on her back and spread her thighs. I put my hands under her pelvis and raised her up slightly. I was on my knees between her legs. She held my dick with her left hand. She pumped my dick and squeezed a good-sized drop of precum out. She took it on her fingers and then licked them. She reached back down and helped me insert my dick into her pussy.

Now she has been married ten years. I have never fucked a girl who was married or who had been married or who was more than a year older than me for that matter. I have all kinds of preconceived notions about a pussy that had been pounded, widened, and stretched from years of wicked fucking, but when I flet into her warm, juicy clit, it felt like a glove. It fit like a glove. She was a perfect fit.

She was perfectly tight. I slipped all the way into her, and then eased back out. I knew if I started pounded her that I would cum too quickly. I pumped in and out as she played with my stomach and then reached around to touch my ass with her fingers. Then she played with my balls. After several minutes, I knew I couldn’t hold out for long, so I gently eased my dick out ever so slowly. I didn’t want to abruptly pull out. When I had only an inch left to remove, I gently went back in. Then I eased completely.

Transitions are important. I know not to go in too quickly or to hard. Pulling out is the same. I dot it slowly and gently. When sucking, I ease off, instead of just stopping all at once. Also, I keep a hand, finger, a moving thigh or foot always touching my partner during a transition. Never break apart a bond once it has begun is my experience.

I went down and started sucking her again. She held her legs up by the knees, and I had full access to that hairless pussy. I sucked, and I caressed. My tongue swirled in and out. I moved my head rapidly with my tongue fully inserted into her. That got her. She started tightening up. I continued the rapid motion with my head and tongue bearing hard on her.

She reached down and pulled me up. I quickly inserted my dick into her and pounded her hard. I could tell she was cumming. I continued to pump. I started feeling a numbness in my feet that moved to the top of my head. The feeling of ecstasy was filling every part of my body. My dick never felt better. Then I released at least three waves of hot cum. I pulsed and throbbed. We continued pumping together until she cooled down.

She looked so peaceful. Her natural beauty did not disappoint me. My age was showing because after we came, I was at a loss for words. Suddenly, I felt the gravity of fucking a girl who I would have to sit with the rest of the semester who was married. I wasn’t sure what the consequences would be.

She broke the ice, “You didn’t disappoint me. You don’t make love like you are naive at all.”

That made me feel very good, yet I was inwardly sad that she was married. Even with the age difference, I saw no difference between us. Looking back, she probably did.

I dismounted her and we got dressed. I kissed her and kissed her. I didn’t know when I would be able to kiss her again, so it was hard to stop. She drove me back to my dorm.

It was early October. She called and we met three times a week for the next few weeks and then slowed down. I wanted to meet her at the restaurant, but that would be too obvious. Would be seen leaving together to often. She simply picked me up at my dorm, and we went to various apartments. Monica was trying to regain some lost time and lost romance. We satisfied her needs, and I lived my fantasy with her which more than satisfied mine. After Christmas break, we called, but didn’t get together. I understood. It was a nice ending and a good beginning for my college years.