1. Thigh Pillow


    Date: 9/3/2016, Categories: College Sex, Author: Tomjones88, Rating: , Source: LushStories

    (From Dr. Hapmord’s files) Patient: Dennis Tominsky Age: 27 Age at time of story: 19 Time: Sometime in May. The end of Freshman Year of college. I woke up on the floor of some dude’s house with a screaming headache and one ear smothered against someone’s skin. In the dimness of the room I opened my eyes and saw the polyester rug staring back at me. I tilted my head slightly and stared ahead at her landing strip bush practically shoved in to face. One flap of her vagina was sticking out from the other flap. My head was pressed against her inner thigh. Her other leg trailed off to the left, as if in mid-kick. I breathed in the plastic-tangy smell of recent sex. I raised my head and looked over the rest of her body. She was snoozing on the floor, a pile of clothes as a pillow, completely naked. She wore a dark-ish wife beater. She was attractive enough. A number of other people were sprawled out beyond her, along the floor leading up to the couch, on which two figures seemed to be trying to get busy under a large blanket. I didn’t remember anything. I stood up. I was wearing boxers but I wasn’t wearing a shirt. I looked on either side of myself and didn’t see anything resembling one of my shirts. I reached under thigh-pillow-smelly-vag’s head and yanked out a white t-shirt. She stirred, but didn’t wake up. I put the shirt on. It seemed masculine enough. I felt too ill to go looking for my pants. I found my sandals by the door and wandered out of the house. Thrash-Metal music ...
    played at a soft volume as I opened the metal door with a screen on it and stepped in to the morning. I licked my lips and swallowed to see if I could taste anything remotely like pussy in my mouth. I tasted only the Jameson I’d drank the night before. I wiped my mouth and a spindly black hair came off my lips. It was obviously not a hair from somebody’s head. It had a female twist to it. The cool air met me like a shield. There was a strip of orange running across the rooftops below dark clouds. It looked like the sun was overflowing from a bathtub in the sky. I wandered home, my headache failing to subside. I made a ton of booty calls later on that day. Chicks I’d banged a long time ago and hadn’t spoken to in months or over a year, girls who I was just friends with, but who probably wouldn’t want to be friends with me after receiving my strongly flirtatious text messages, and two chicks who I’d been keeping around. The second one of these two, Emily, said she wasn’t doing much and that she’d come by later on that night. I breathed a sigh of relief that I wouldn’t have to just watch a stupid video and resort to calling on Ms. Palm that night (Ms. Palm is my hand, by the way). Emily was tanned, half-Hispanic. Curly black hair. A Sophomore. She wore a fake gold necklace that she claimed to have bought in Cancun. At my request, she rode on top of me. At her request, I let her chug from a bottle of wine while fucking me. It was incredibly hot. She looked down at me between swigs ...
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