Pursuing Dick

Heather nuzzled into Conner's hand as he placed it on her cheek, and she looked up into the cornflower-blue eyes of the lithe-figured blond college junior as she cupped his balls with one hand and sucked on the bulb of his cock with her mouth. She was sitting on the foot of the bed in her university dorm room, just in her panties. Conner, pantless and briefless and his sport shirt open to expose his trim, but well-muscled torso, was standing between her knees and telling her what he wanted her to do next in the blow job she was giving him.

Conner was known as one of the campus studs and thus had been a real catch for a first year student like Heather. She'd been dating him for a couple of weeks now, and they'd moved into the stage where she knew she'd suck him, he'd suck her, and then he'd fuck her, give her a smile, and then go off and pal around with his fraternity buddies until the next time he wanted sexual relief.

Conner was an athlete—a swimmer and diver on the university's swim team. And he was tall and blond. He had blue eyes, a nice smile, a good swimmer's body—well muscled but sleek. Heather had met him through her brother, Richard, who also was a junior at the university, was one of Conner's best friends and a fraternity brother of his, and had all of the same physical attributes Conner did. There was one exception. Rich, as Heather called her brother, wasn't as arrogant and brash as Conner was.

Conner was Heather's first lover at the university; she'd been there for less and a month. He wasn't her first lover, though. When Conner knelt between her legs, slipped her panties down and off her legs, and began working her clit, labia, and cunt opening with his tongue and then his fingers as well, Heather drifted off into thinking of her first lover. It was in looking down and watching Connor's curly blond hair wave as his head moved at its work between her thighs that had brought Clifford to mind. Clifford was her uncle—her father's much younger brother. Clifford was quite similar to Conner—but an older, more heavily muscled-up version of Conner. Neither one lacked for confidence and assurance they could have what they wanted. They'd both had Heather.

Uncle Clifford was the spitting image of Heather's brother, Rich, who everyone at the university called Dickie. For that matter, Clifford looked a lot more like Rich that Conner did.

As Connor sucked on her clit and fingered her cunt and she moaned appropriately for him, Heather's mind went to the month just before the university started for her—she was a freshman and Rich was starting his junior year in the same university. She had applied to this university because Rich was here.

She had been lying on a chaise lounge at the family's pool in Mesa, Arizona, under the shadow of Superstition Mountain, and had been watching Dickie practice his dives in just a skimpy Speedo. He'd just continue practicing them, and Heather would just continue watching him until she felt herself squirming on the chaise lounge. Involuntarily her hand went to her V to apply some relief.

Uncle Clifford must have seen how aroused she was becoming too, because he suddenly appeared beside her lounge bed, sat down on it, placed a hand over the one she had on her mound and said, "Heather, honey, you shouldn't have to do that yourself."

Clifford was in a skimpy Speedo, and, although he was more muscular than Rich was, seeing him at the edge of her vision as Heather watched Rich dive gave her the arousing feeling of seeing Rich in double.

Her uncle's fingers went through a leg hole of her bikini bottoms and he gave her clit and snatch attention. She'd been sunning herself, so her top was off and Uncle Clifford squeezed her tits, murmuring how well she had filled out in the last year. He worked her clit and cunt until, writhing below him and never taking the focus of her eyes off of Rich's diving practice rather than what was going on on the pool patio, Heather gave her uncle a climax.

With a little laugh, Clifford stood up from the lounge bed, stretched out his hand to her, and she accompanied him into the pool house, where, on a lounge bed in the shadows of the pool house, Uncle Clifford put her on all fours and knelt behind her and did all of the sucking and rubbing to her clit and cunt again that Connor was doing to her now before he covered her body with his, mounted her buttocks, slid his hard cock inside her, and fucked her as she continued to watch, with slitted eyes, Rich doing those practice spring-board dives.

Just like Conner now, Uncle Clifford was fucking her, but in her dreams she was being fucked by someone else entirely.

After he'd fucked her that time in the pool house, he told her, "You're a real sweet lay, Heather. You're gonna be really popular at the university if you give it out to the right guys."

Heather had ached for years to be popular. And now her uncle had given her the idea what she could do at the university to gain that popularity.

From everything she heard, Conner was a "right guy" to give it to at the university.

Of course, like Conner now, this hadn't been the first time Uncle Clifford had fucked Heather. The first time had been two months earlier when he took her virginity in the backseat of his Sebring convertible when he'd taken her out for pizza on a hot, otherwise dull evening, and also bought her beer. She'd been voted in high school sillies poll to be the first to lose her virginity after turning eighteen—the joke being that Heather was rather dumpy through high school—and, as far as Heather knew, she subsequently won that prize honestly. It had all come at Heather so quickly after high school, and, although she had her dream man in view, she had stood by the wayside and watched her friends have fun without her for so long that she was conditioned to please to get noticed.

Uncle Clifford may not have intended to do that when he did, although he probably had it in mind for sometime during that summer. He'd had a few too many beers himself and they'd gone in the backseat of the Sebring at the end of the track by the river just to do some light necking. But he'd somehow gotten his knees between her legs and convinced her just to get a feel for "it." And then the bulb of "it" got lodged in her entrance and he said that, regrettably and unintentionally he'd undone her. And then she was sort of "what the hell." Hadn't she been voted to do this right after turning eighteen anyway?

He pushed, she gave a little cry, but didn't tell him to stop. And then he pushed again; she began to pant; he moved full on top of her and palmed a hand on the small of her back, pulling her pelvis closer into his, giving his cock more depth inside her; he plunged and began to pump; and she really found out what being undone meant. But there in the moonlight, with his wavy blond hair and blue eyes, he'd looked the part of her dream sex partner.

The indication that he hadn't intended to go all the way that evening by the river was that he'd come unprepared. But it was just that once and it was her first time—and he didn't have anything nasty to pass on as far as he knew—so what the hell. He supplied condoms after that—and fucked her twice a day while her parents were traveling in Europe and didn't even know that funny uncle Clifford had dropped into their Arizona house for a visit—which became an extended visit. They had neglected to tell the new housekeeper that Uncle Clifford wasn't welcome in their house while they were gone—and that he definitely wasn't welcome to fuck their daughter on every flat surface in the house.

After they'd already done it the first time, there wasn't much reason to avoid doing it, Uncle Clifford said. Heather couldn't think of a good counterargument to that—especially since, after the first time, he made a big show of using a condom. Also, he was older, in great shape, and more experienced and, she thought, fucked her really, really well, bringing her to at least one climax each time. Besides, he had told her that he had a larger-than-normal sized cock and that women liked them big. She saw no reason to disbelieve what he said. She tried the cocks of a couple of other guys in dating near the end of the summer, and, sure enough, Uncle Clifford's was bigger than theirs were and she'd enjoyed having it inside her more.

Heather had always been the fifth or third wheel in dating in high school. She been Ms. Chubbette until a few weeks after graduation when, like a butterfly, she'd turned into Ms. Vavavoom. Until she'd lost a good bit of weight, her tits had firmed up, her acne had suddenly departed, and her braces had come out, she'd been the safe girl that her girlfriends dragged along when they were socializing with boys to keep the boys from sticking their hands down into their panties—unless the girls wanted them to. And then Heather was reliable about not telling anyone about it—unless her girlfriend wanted her to.

Uncle Clifford took some credit for her transformation. She'd been changing before he took her out for pizza that night, but he'd caught and deflowered her while she was still blossoming. He said it was because he had seen the potential in her and brought the inner Heather out with his cock. Heather acknowledged that his cock, indeed, had done something inside her—and that, to some extent, it had awakened her to an interest in the sport of being desired—and having a man's throbbing cock inside her.

The snapping in place of Conner's condom brought Heather into the present in her dorm room, and she docilely laid back on the bed and hooked her legs on his slim hips when he grasped her waist in his hands, penetrated her, and began to pump. Conner wasn't as big or as experienced in cock play as Uncle Clifford was, so he wasn't a challenge for Heather. She did like to have a man's hard cock inside her, though, and Conner was a popular cocksman. She wasn't so much into the present, however, that Conner was the handsome blond university junior with blue eyes and a nicely cut swimmers body who was fucking her now in her mind.

Conner seemed to be happy pumping away inside her, staring at the wall above her head, and mentally counting the strokes he could take and still hold off on an ejaculation. At the point of Heather's climax, she cried out a name. Conner didn't seem to care all that much that it wasn't his. He gotten his rocks off, which was always priority number one.

"So, you coming to the frat house party tonight? It'll be a lot of fun."

"I guess," Heather answered Conner's question, posed as he was zipping up. "Maybe. Is my brother, Rich, going to be there?"

"Dickie? I guess. He usually attends. He lives there, so it's hard to avoid the parties. So, you going to be there?"

"I guess."

He left her there, sitting at the foot of the bed after an affectionate kiss, a brush of her nipples by the back of a hand, and a whispered comment of what a nice lay she was. Since Conner's idea a good lay was a girl who laid back docilely and took it rather than leaving claw marks on his body, Heather hadn't been challenged much to provide satisfaction. When he went out into the corridor, the resident adviser, the RA, a blond-headed, blue-eyed, tall soccer player was standing down the hall. When Conner got to the top of the stairs down to the entrance to the dorm, he turned and saw that the resident adviser was at Heather's door and was knocking. Conner paused to see that the RA opened the door and went in.

The door hadn't been shut all the way and Conner returned and peeked in. The resident adviser was bending over the bed and had Heather reclining sideways at the foot of the bed, her torso propped up on her left elbow. Her body was twisted and her left leg and bent down to the floor at the end of the bed. One of the RA's hands was lowered to between her legs, its fingers buried between her folds, one working her clit and another two inside her. His other hand cupped the back of her head. His cock was in her mouth and she was sucking on it.

Rather than being angry, Conner smiled at seeing that she would give out again as soon as taking him. Such women students were in high demand—especially ones with a Vavavoom body, like Heather had. An idea formed in his brain.

* * * *

The fraternity house was pretty crowded that night. The university had won its football game earlier in the day—which had surprised the hell out of everyone—and they were celebrating pretty heavy. Heather wandered around with a beer in hand—the third one she'd been handed since she'd come in. All of them were given to her by frat brothers who wondered if she would like to see the upstairs of the house. She wasn't interested at the moment, she'd said, but she accepted and drank the beers to be sociable. She'd worn a filmy little miniskirt dress with a bodice having its own bra built in and that laced down to the waist in back. Ever since she had begun trimming down since late spring, she'd been celebrating her own liberation by wearing just wisps of this and that and enjoying the deep rumbling sounds young men made as she sashayed by them.

Any of the more experienced coeds at the university could have told her that this was definitely not what she wanted to wear to a fraternity party unless she was advertising that she wanted to be invited upstairs by half the fraternity. Heather wore it in all innocence. She didn't even give it much "cause and effect" thought when, indeed, nearly every guy who could isolate her in a corner of the party room offered to give her the upstairs tour.

Eventually, she came up face to Conner, who gave her the once over twice and whistled.

"Glad you came, Heather. Could you come with me and help me with something for a minute—come over here, the hall to the kitchen."

"Is Rich here? Have you seen Rich yet?"

"I think I saw him go through that door over there, the hall to the kitchen. Come on, we'll find him."

That wasn't the hall to the kitchen. It just led to a few offices of the fraternity staff, and they weren't working in their offices that evening. And what Conner wanted Heather to help him with was a throbbing hard on.

"Here' I brought you another beer," Conner said as they moved through the door to the quiet hallway.

"I've had three, I think that may be enough," she said with a little giggle and a burp.

"God, I hope so," he answered with a low mutter. "But we'll just have the fourth one here in case you need more loosening up."

Three seemed to have had her loosened up enough, though, because when he pressed her back against the wall, bunched her skirt up around her waist, and cupped her mound with his hand, while he kissed her lips, she just went with it. And why not, Conner had privileges that way. When he pulled her back from the wall and took his hand from her muff to help the other one unlace her bodice and flop the top of her dress forward so his lips could suck her nipples, it was just natural for her to sigh for him until he stood up to take her lips with his so she could reach down, unzip him, free his cock, and stroke it.

She just giggled as he moved his mouth down her torso as he sank to his knees in front of her. His hands glided her panties down and off her legs. He pocketed her panties as his mouth went to the core of her. She ran her fingers through his blond hair, pretending he was someone else. With her clothing down to just about nothing—and certainly nothing in the way of anything—he stood, lifting her body as he did so, and then lowered her cunt onto his cock and fucked her against the wall.

Heather wasn't particularly perturbed. The sound of the condom snapping into place had given her fair warning. She had a three-beer buzz on and Conner had privileges. His popularity on campus would be hers as well.

He wasn't all that surprised that she had just given in to him like that. He was a bit more surprised, though, that after he'd fucked her he whispered something in her ear and she'd just answered. "I don't see why not. But maybe we should find Rich first."

"Maybe Dickie will be there too," Conner answered.

This perked her up. Maybe he would be and all of her dreams could come true.

Kneeling on an area rug in an upstairs bedroom of the fraternity house, the party still going full blast below, Heather moved around in a semicircle sucking four cocks of young fraternity studs. She was as Conner had created her in the downstairs hall—her filmy dress gathered at her waist from both above and below, and her panties in Conner's pocket. None of guys with their tongues and cocks hanging out were Rich, but, what the hell, Conner had said maybe he'd show up a little later.

None of them were tall blonds with blue eyes, either. Conner was standing off to the side and watching. One of them, in fact, was a black muscleman, built close to the ground, a fireplug style cock—not so long, but fireplug thick. He'd been on the winning football team earlier that afternoon. And he was randy as hell.

As a winning team member, the black stud was given first and last honors. He was accorded five minutes off the top when Heather was first laid on her back on the bed and two frat brothers stood on either side of her and held her legs bent and spread. The black football player's job was to open her up for the rest. He was told he could then play cleanup for the first round for as long as he wanted.

"Including in the ass?" he asked Heather hopefully.

She was about to answer, and her little frown indicated that it might not be the answer he wanted, but Conner piped up and said, "Sure, to the football game victor go the spoils."

Heather decided to consider that later, if it came up again. She was distracted by what Conner had said to her on the way upstairs.

"The guys would like two rounds each with you," Conner had said.

"Whatever," a glassy-eyed Heather had replied, as she tossed off that fourth beer.

The black football player was a real opener of eyes and other orifices for Heather. She'd never had it nearly that thick before, but after him for starters, with him taking it slow, none of the rest were taxiing. There was some minor annoyance, with one of the four stood off to the side continuously chanting "gangbang, gangbang," in a low voice between his swigs of beer. And it was a bigger annoyance that Rich wasn't there. But she got into the grove of lying there with her legs open by the time the third guy penetrated her, grabbed her hips, and began to pump her—with each guy having a different technique—enough to distance herself from any regret that Conner had wanted her to do this. She'd wanted to please Conner.

Conner had told her that this would quickly make her a very popular woman on campus—which undoubtedly was true. Heather had never been popular before, and the idea attracted her.

The third guy wasn't finished when the fourth one got impatient and came around to the other side of the bed and wanted her to open her mouth to him. She did so, but just then she heard the voice she'd come to the fraternity party in the first place to hear.

"Heather. Is that you? Heather . . . Conner, what's going on here?"

"Rich?" she asked as soon as she could push Number Four's cock out of her mouth. She went up on her elbows and looked around for her brother. Number Three, who was between her leg and holding them up with hands under her knees, was so close to ejaculation that he just kept on pumping—stepping up the speed, though, to get himself off.

"Conner, what's—?"

"She said she wanted it, Dickie," Conner responded. Conner was a history major. He liked to reconcile history with his preferences.

"Have you been drinking, Heather?" Rich looked past the hips of Number Three to ask. Number Three kept pumping away. The way he was holding Heather's legs up made him look like he was running for the finish line in a wheelbarrow race.