The Prize

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Young scholar takes the prize.
2.6k words
4.49
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Part 1 of the 3 part series

Updated 11/02/2022
Created 01/09/2004
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God, how embarrassing. A grown woman, squirming in my seat. Jeez. Where do these idiot experts/sexperts come up with the rubbish that men and women are different sexually? It's only centuries of social encoding that makes some people believe that women are somehow passive and monogamous. Crap. Who wouldn't spend the day fuckin' if there weren't bills to pay? And who'd choose not to have variety in partners? Oh, sure. If a guy committed enough to work at it came along and the two of you made sure that things didn't get dull. But that's not going to happen in this lifetime. Not for me anyway. Too old. Too set in my ways. Too independent. Too, too wantin' that young man up there on the stage accepting his award.

How incredibly attractive he was. Did he know it? Maybe. Maybe not. He didn't sound cocksure of himself. He didn't sound unsure either. He had a brain or he wouldn't be receiving the J.B. Sotheby Award. Annually, the university held an awards ceremony where deserving students cleaned up in scholarship money. The Sotheby was reserved for the very deserving. Brian Cane was, I'd heard, very deserving. He was in the physics program and I'd not had him in any classes. Colleagues had said he'd win the plum prize. Yeah. I'd like to give him a prize. Stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum. Come here, boy. Sit. Roll over. Let me scratch your tummy.

I couldn't make my brain stop. I tried. Really, I did. Not too hard, but I did. These things were so boring after all of these years. I know. I shouldn't feel this way. It's not the students. They're wonderful. It's all of these pompous administrators, colleagues, and benefactors who drive me nuts. They think they're so important. They think they deserve credit for fostering education! Good lord. Wouldn't Thoreau cringe? He who desired to spend money on only two things: good roads and education. I'm with you, Henry! As if it doesn't help us all to foster the arts and education. Duh. Ah, well. Fifteen seconds of fame, I guess.

Neither train of thought was taking care of the itch in my panties. Brian had finished his acceptance speech and left the stage. Could I make it to the ladies and diddle myself before anyone missed me? Probably. Guess I'll go for it. I stood and excused myself to the man next to me. Fortunately, I was in the second seat from the aisle and created little disturbance as I left the auditorium. I escaped the semi-darkness through the massive double doors and entered the better lit foyer. I turned left to go the ladies' room. Ah. There is a god, and she is well pleased with me today. Or he. I don't care. I'm blessed. Before me walks young Sotheby Award winner, headed for the men's room. Karma. Kismet. Fate. Bullshit. I think my heady vibes just made their way up to him and he came out to receive his prize from me.

To hell with the diddle. I don't need to pee. I'll stake myself out here and wait for him to emerge. What's wrong with me? I can't pick up this kid right here in the foyer of the university auditorium. Can I? Well, a quick congrats. That wouldn't be out of order, now would it? A couple of minutes and Brian came out. I had placed myself close enough to the opening of the short hallway leading to the restrooms that I knew we had to make eye contact.

"Oh, hello," I said. "You're the young man who won the Sotheby. Brian Cane, right? Congratulations!" And I meant it.

"Uh. Thanks," he returned. "This is really all kinda embarrassing, but I'm very happy about the scholarship. But the spotlight is not my favorite place."

He was now only steps away from me. I had a decision to make. Do I nail him before he ships off to M.I.T. or god knows where, or do I let the itch go unscratched? Shit. Scratch.

"Do you have more spotlight time comin' up," I enquired.

"Nah. Thank god."

"Parents, friends, family, all here watchin' ya, huh?"

"Uh, no. Threre's only my sister and she couldn't make it."

"Oh, that's not right," I exclaimed. "An honor such as this deserves a huge celebration! Let me buy you a drink and a meal. By the way, I'm Dr. Stewart, English prof here at the university."

"Yeah. I've seen you around. But I can't let you take me out."

"Ah. I'm too old for you to be seen with, eh? Well, that's all right. I suppose we could celebrate at my place if you want."

Brian shuffled from foot to foot, looking sheepish.

"No. You don't understand. I don't mean that at all. I mean it wouldn't be right for a lady to do the taking out. I'm old fashioned that way, I guess. I'd love to have some company right now. I am kinda pumped, and no one to share it with. Do you have some place in mind?"

Oh, hell. Why did I mention going out. Why not just move straight to my bedroom via a quick stop in the kitchen for a beer and a sandwich. Oh, hell. Screw the sandwich, too. Food can wait.

"Well. I don't really have a particular place in mind. I'd just as soon go to my place and be comfortable. Whaddya think?"

Brian looked crushed. "Oh, no. You didn't believe me about not being worried about being seen with you."

"No. No, I did believe you. I just, well, I just . . . Look, Brian. I dunno whether you can sense it, but I . . ."

He cut me off. "Yeah. Yeah, I sense it. It's weird, but I think I know what you're thinking."

I laughed. "God, I hope not, son. If you do, then you should be on fire!"

"Well, that's a way of puttin' it."

"So, does that mean you want to come home with me?"

"Yeah. That's what that means."

-------------------------------------

The drive home was too slow. I didn't live far and I broke the speed limits all the way, but it was still too slow. I got very good vibes from this young man. He was sweet, explaining to me during the drive how he'd never dreamed of such educational success. He and his sister had been orphaned at early ages and taken in and passed around by various relatives over the years--older relatives who had since passed on. Ah. Finally. My driveway had rarely looked so good. Damn garage door opener. Work faster. O.K. Car's in the garage. Now get out of it and see if your legs can hold you up until you get inside. Very undignified to do him on the concrete. Concrete very hard, too. Oh, god. Hard.

I had thought we might make it to the bedroom, but we didn't. The moment we got through the backdoor and into the den we were all over one another. As the door shut, we started kissing furiously. Brian's kisses were hot and sweet. He pressed his lips, slightly parted, over mine. Soon, I backed away and began tearing off my jacket and so did Brian. I then turned to pull his shirt from his trousers and he pulled my blouse from my skirt. His right hand went up the front of my blouse and cupped my right breast through the bra. I reached down and started unbuttoning my blouse as quickly as possible. He started unbuttoning his shirt. I managed to get my blouse off, but only after Brian had torn off his own shirt and grabbed my waist with both hands, guiding me to the arm of the sofa where he sat me down. His hands moved swiftly around to unfasten the bra and release my breasts. Where the bra went, I don't know. Blouse? Who cared? I just knew that his mouth soon found my nipples, moving back and forth between left and right. My hands, both of them, wandered to Brian's crotch. I started to unzip his trousers, but I wasn't quick enough for him. He moved his hands down and released his penis from its confines.

Good lord. Big brains. Big penis. That one I hadn't heard. I thought it was big feet. Big nose. Something. In truth, Brian probably wasn't much above average. Just a bit. But I didn't seek out hugely endowed men because I was very small. Hmmm. How shall I say? Not my body, but my vagina. More than one man had gotten off way before he intended because I was tighter than he expected. Genetics. Thank you. Kegls. Thank me. I got back to business, the business of pleasure. I still had to give the Sotheby winner his prize from me. He certainly wanted to begin pounding me then and there. He had pulled, jerkily, my skirt up around my waist. The panties, limp from my juices, he managed to pull down around my ankles in an eyewink. Not what I wanted though.

As I maneuvered myself out of the panties around my ankles, I ushered Brian around to the front of the sofa. I pushed him down on to the sofa in a sitting position. I squatted at his feet and removed the shoes. Forget the socks. I grabbed the cuffs of his trousers and began to tug them down. He assisted by lifting his buttocks off the couch, grabbing the waistband, and pushing the trousers down. I got them off, threw them over my shoulder, and moved to my knees. Ah. There it is. The cock. Calling me. Standing up and hailing me like a frenzied tourist searching for a taxi at a foreign airport. Here's your cab, honey. Get in, get in. I couldn't decide whether to waste the time to remove the skirt or simply let it ride up around my waist. Aw, let it ride.

I leaned down, in a hurry to take Brian's cock into my mouth. I wanted him to glisten with my saliva. He tensed up. Not a bad tension. An expectant one. I continued to fellate him, moving up and down, circling my tongue around. Brian's left arm went around my back and the right hand's index finger went to my vagina. He didn't insert it, but slid it up to my clitoris and began to trace small circles with his finger. The feeling was incredible. The electricity ran from between my legs up to my brain. My whole body was aching for coitus. I was dripping with moisture, ready to take him into my body. I gently released Brian's penis from my mouth and returned to my squatting position, the movement pulling his finger from my clit in the process. In a second I stood and leaned my knees down to the sofa's surface, one knee on either side of his. Brian grabbed his cock with his right hand and guided it into me as I lowered myself onto him. I went slowly. I wanted to enjoy the penetration. He didn't rush it. Good boy. Soon, I engulfed him. The ride began.

I managed to move my feet onto the sofa's surface, one at a time, without jerking Brian's penis from inside me. Ah. Now I was in a position to do some pumping. I looked squarely into Brian's eyes. He looked into mine. Squatted flat footed on top of his hard on, I began to make pouncing, bouncing moves up and down his cock. His eyes got huge. The tightness and the movement were beginning to catch up with his brain. The eyes got even bigger. Brian's hands grabbed me around the waist. He began to control the speed and depth of my thrusts. He slowed me down, lessened the depth. I appreciated the guidance. I was too hot to control my own actions. Left on my own, I'd move him to cum too soon. It sounded stupid, trite. But my insides were on fire. It was something about the unabashed gaze with which he regaled me. He wanted inside me in more ways than one. This excited me more than I'd been excited in a very long time.

We settled into a synchronized groove. The Chili Peppers' "Can't stop the spirit when it needs you," running through my mind. Each thrust was like a pleasurable cattle prod ramming my innermost being. I was unsure how long these ecstatic movements lasted. I was, simply put, not cognizant. Brian's eyes continued to be locked on mine. I saw him, but I wasn't fully focused. The position we were in lent itself to great pleasure for me. I hoped he was feeling even a fraction of what I felt. Vaguely, I noticed that Brian's hands had left my hips. Ah. Was he feeling what I felt? Without his restraint, I fell to my own frenzied rhythm. I leaned forward, my hands on the back of the sofa on either side of his now reclined head. My chest neared his, nipple grazing nipple. I began to grind in circles. Brian thrust his body upward. He joined the triumphant dance as if we had been partners for life.

I was unprepared for the climax of this get together. No. I knew Brian was about to explode. I simply was not prepared for the ferocity of it. He began to buck up and down, his moans becoming louder and louder. His orgasm was apparently going to last forever. Oh, god. This was beyond description. Rarely in my life had I experienced an orgasm other than clitoral. G-spot's ass. Sooner find a unicorn. Why these websites kept feeding these young women such crap I couldn't figure out. No wonder they fucked at the drop of a hat. They thought they were entitled to something that probably didn't exist. Poor younger guys. But there was no doubt that I was currently feeling something that I had not felt before. Brian's cock was searing my vaginal walls, the tip of his cock touching my tonsils, it seemed. I was filled, expanded, super-sensitive. Was I screaming? Yes, I believe I was. Poor Mildred next door. I hoped she was in the house and not in her side garden overhearing these sounds of passion.

Why couldn't I pay attention. Why was James Joyce filling my head. Metem pike hoses. Metapsychosis. Oh, god. Ulysses? Now? Was my life flashing before my eyes? Shit. I was dying. That was it. Fuckin' dying. But then I wasn't. I was feeling Brian's arms enfold me, feeling warm cum fill me, feeling my pumping lungs slow down. I didn't know if I was crying or laughing. Maybe both. Brian's hands went to either side of my face and pulled my head up off his chest. We stared at one another. He was crying/laughing, too. I had been unaware of sweating, but we were both drenched. We continued to look at one another. Shortly, I slumped forward again, too spent to hold myself up. Brian lowered his upper body to the right and down onto the couch. I was pulled down with him. In the same movement, he pulled his legs off the floor and up on the couch. I was on top of him, snuggling into his still hot and sweaty chest. My hair was matted to my cheeks. I was hungry, but I couldn't bear to move away from him. He held me so tightly. There was no need to hold me so hard. I was going nowhere. I hadn't felt so inclined to stay in one place in a long, long while.

The tables were certainly turned. I had expected to give young master Brian a prize. Instead, he had given me one. Well, the afternoon was barely over. There was still time after a nap. The prize, the prize. Grab the brass ring, boy. No. Grab the brass ring, man. Mmmmm. No, grab the ass, man. Aye. Later, m'love. You deserve two prizes now. "This life is more than just a read through," the Chili Peppers hummed.

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