Green Bush Erotica Volume 14

Sweet Susan

 

Elliot Silvestri

 

Chapter One

 

“I like what you said in class. Romeo was a fucking twit and Juliet was a simpering fool who went along with her two-day boyfriend because she didn’t like her parents.”

The guy who was talking to me as I tottered down the stairs from our Shakespeare I class had black hair styled to what was commonly called the artsy-nerd type that dotted the campus. He was otherwise unremarkable, blandly handsome, I suppose, but without any striking features other than his hair. He wasn’t the athlete type I usually lusted over—but all that lust had always resulted in spectacular disaster. Still, I was wary.

“Thanks.”

I’m not the greatest conversationalist.

He grinned and didn’t seem to notice that I was trying to avoid him without appearing rude. “I have to say you’re pretty smart, probably the smartest of our entire class, even the seniors.”

“I’s a sophomore,” I said. Again, I’m not the best conversationalist.

“Anyway, I’m guessing you’re an English major?”

“Film, actually. English minor.”

“I’m drama. With an art minor. I’m struggling in class. I could really use some help with our next paper.” He flashed me a winning smile and tried to look both needy and confident. I wasn’t buying it. Being a fat girl I knew what guys were like.

“Dr. Baker is a pretty helpful teacher. If you see her during office hours she’d be more than happy to help out. Or try the writing center. It’s staffed by students, but they’re pretty good with the mechanics of writing if that’s your problem.” I should know; I work at the writing center.

He grabbed by arm as I rounded the corner of the stairwell and headed for the door. “Um, look, I’m not good at this, but I’ve been staring at the back of your head since the beginning of the semester. I’m not having trouble in class, I just want to ask you out and I don’t really know how to do that.”

 

And that’s how I met Jaret. He’s a sweet boy. I had a lot of trouble trusting and believing him at first because that’s how fat girls grow up in high school. Every walk down the hallway is made me a target of laughter and jokes. I fielded more than my fair share of fake date invitations; I was smart enough to turn them all down flat. I might be fat, I’m not stupid. I graduated top of my class in high school and got away from there as quickly as possible.

As a consequence of growing up fat, I didn’t know how to date. That was okay, Jaret apparently did. Sadly, I mistrusted him on our entire first date. Dinner. Movie. Nice walk back to campus. He didn’t seem at all shy about holding my hand. I half-allowed myself to believe that he actually liked me. I knew it was an act, of course, but I went along with it because it was nice to feel that way for once.

The walk back to campus took us by his dorm first and I knew what was going to happen next. He’d invite me inside so his stupid friends could jump out and laugh at me. He might get some money from his friends for winning the bet on getting the fat girl back to his room for a romantic tryst. Or maybe his date with me was his consequence for having lost some stupid bet. I automatically headed for the entrance to his dorm.

We stumbled together and nearly fell. That embarrassed me more than knowing I was about to be the butt of some huge joke. “Whoa. Where are you going?”

“Aren’t we going back to your room?” I asked a little too pointedly.

“Um, I was actually planning on walking you back to your room.” A glint grew in his eye. “But if you want to go to my place, that’s okay. I’ve never met a girl as eager as you,” he said with an exaggerated wink.

“What?”

“It is a first date, and all, but I’m not one to stand on formality,” he said as he grabbed my elbow and steered me into his hall. By now I was convinced that a joke was to be had at my expense and steeled myself for the surprise. I readied my retort and was prepared to knee Jaret in the balls as a bit of payback for his cruel trick.

There was no one in his suite or in his room when he unlocked it. “Davis is gone for the night,” he said. “He’s got a girlfriend in SMASH housing.”

“Right,” I agreed. I was suddenly nervous. When was the other shoe going to drop.

Jaret grinned at me. “Did you enjoy the movie?” he asked and put his hand on my upper arm. He was standing incredibly close. Where was the joke? Did he actually have to fuck me to win the bet?

“Yes.” I answered since I didn’t have anything better to say.

“I’m going to admit I missed half of it because I was staring at you most of the time. You have an incredible earlobe and a wonderful neck.”

That was hardly the type of seductive talk I was prepared to hear. “What?”

He didn’t answer my stupid question. He kissed me. I’m ashamed to say it was my first real kiss from a boy, sophomore year in college and never been kissed. Apparently I didn’t do too badly at kissing back because our bodies clung together a long time, he put his tongue in my mouth and I responded as best I could. I had no clue what I was doing. I was simultaneously horny and angry because I knew some cruel trick was imminent.

When we finally broke the kiss he said, “You’re beautiful, and I’m not just saying that to get you into bed.” He pulled on my gently trying to move me toward his bed.

“I don’t believe you.”

The look in his eyes was a combination of puzzlement and hurt. “What?”

“I’ve been through this before,” I explained to him. I locked my knees and refused to be moved forward by him. “Take out the fat girl, romance her, get her into bed, and laugh at her for thinking she had something going with the cute guy.”

Jaret collapsed to his bed. It bounced slightly when he sat down on it. “I’m not playing a trick on you, Susie. I do like you.”

“Right, you like the fat girl.”

He glanced away from me then looked back, a bit angry. “I’m not going to call you fat. Yeah, you’re not a stick figure. Yeah, you probably don’t fit into the traditional mold of sexy. But—and I’ve learned this about myself—I like girls who are a little chubby. No, I don’t know why. But yes, you fit my ideal. But I also like you, Susie the person. You’re the smartest, funniest one in our class and you have a wicked sharp manner of cutting someone down when they’re too full of themselves. Especially Trent the asshole.”

Trent the asshole was a fifth year senior in our class that was well on his way to a sixth year if he didn’t focus. He thought he knew a lot about everything; he didn’t.

“Since when do cute guys like fat girls?” I asked him softly.

He shrugged. “I don’t know about cute guys, but I like the way you look. Let me be blunt, you have a great face, wonderful curly hair—here’s the blunt part—great bit tits and a wonderful ass. I’ve followed it around on campus on more than one occasion. I’ll do anything you want if you’ll just make out with me for a while.”

Here’s a true confession. I’d actually lost something along the lines of fifty pounds between my senior year of high school and sophomore year of college. While most girls were putting on the freshman fifteen I was shedding them. I had intentionally picked a college where students had to walk everywhere. The college was on the edge of a river valley and most walking was either uphill or down. At the end of my first week freshman year my calves were screaming in pain every evening. At the end of my freshman year my clothes were baggy and hanging off my body.

Okay, I wasn’t a huge porker my second year, but I still weighed more than was good for me, and since I only stand five foot two, every pound is magnified a hundred times on my frame.

I still had fat girl mentality even though I wasn’t a huge, fat slob anymore. I still needed to lose weight. At five-two carrying around a hundred fifty pounds isn’t all that attractive.

Except, maybe, to Jaret.

I took a step forward, and I’ll never know why, and I kissed him. He kissed me back. A moment later I was on the bed with him and we were shedding our clothes.

It was the first time in my life I wished I worn something sexier than jeans, mock turtleneck covered by a sweatshirt, plain white cotton bra and panties. At least my underwear was clean and matching.

He didn’t mind when I pulled off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants. He especially didn’t mind when I pushed my hand down into his underwear and grabbed his cock to stroke it. Don’t forget I had no idea what I was doing. I was perhaps a little tough with his manhood.

“Whoa. Hold on second. You’re got a pretty good grip there.” He shimmied out of his pants and underwear and I realized he was naked and not the least bit ashamed. Not that he had anything to be ashamed about. He was beautiful to my eyes. His cock was erect and pointing up to his stomach. I wanted to take it in my mouth but was afraid I’d be giving him a blowjob all wrong.

I was surprised when he put my hand back on his cock. “Slower,” he said. “Don’t go so fast, I don’t want to cum too quickly.” And so I resumed stroking him. I was really turned on now and for some reason that made me really chatty while I masturbated him.

“You don’t mind me doing this?” I asked him as I continued to stroke.

“It’s great,” he said.

“Are we going to have sex?” I asked him, half scared he’d say yes, half scared he’d say no.

“Aren’t we doing that now?”

I laughed. “I mean penis in vagina sex.”

“If you want.”

No one had ever made that offer to me before. Well, no one who was serious. “I’d really like to.”

His eyes snapped open. “Then we’ll need to get your bra and panties off,” he said sitting up. And then he pushed me down to the bed which presented a problem as he tried to reach under me to unhook my bra.

“Let me sit up,” I said. He backed off a bit and I turned my back to him, displaying the row of five industrial strength bra closure hooks. “Help me out a little?” I asked. I couldn’t believe I was being so forward. I had never been naked in front of anyone before who wasn’t a doctor.

“Sure.” He fumbled a bit and then figured out the secret to opening the hooks. I let the bra slip off my shoulders and flung it to the floor. I turned back to him and displayed my breasts and the pink nipples that topped them. The beaming smile on his face told me he wasn’t playing a game with me. He actually was in lust with me and my body. It was strange. I felt like I had some superpower I had just discovered and know I could rescue the world from strange alien invaders. “Wow. What size are you?” he breathed.

“42DD. Or 44E, depends on the brand.”

“They’re beautiful.” Before I could do anything else he pushed me back down and his mouth kissed not my lips, but my nipple. He sucked it in and his tongue flicked it. The suction felt nice. The sensations went all the way down to my pussy. The breast Jaret wasn’t happily teasing with his mouth suddenly received some very welcome attention from his hand. He pinched my nipple, not painfully, but just hard enough to let me know he had found my secret vulnerable spot and wasn’t going to let me escape unscathed

“Ooh,” I moaned.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Uh-huh. More.”

I’m not sure if he misinterpreted more, but his fingers released my nipple, though his mouth didn’t stray, and then there was a warm pressure on top of my pussy. His hand was resting on top of my panties. I didn’t say or do anything. I was frozen with fear—and lust.

He waited politely for a minute, released my breast from his mouth, and moved up to kiss my lips. That was nice. As he did so his hand on my panties moved up and away, then his fingertips slid under the elastic band and inside where he could feel the thick tangle of my pubes. I didn’t protest. I was scared and excited, but I wanted more.

Jaret stopped kissing me. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked in all seriousness. “I don’t want to pressure you, but I’m pretty horny right now.”

He didn’t have to tell me. His hard cock was like a hot iron bar pressing into my leg. I met his gaze. “Do you have a condom?”

“I’ve got a whole boxful.” He jumped up and out of bed, grabbed a box of condoms from his desk drawer, and returned in less than a second. With some careful maneuvering he pushed me to the side a bit and then grabbed both sides of my plain white panties. “Ready for the unveiling?” he asked.

I giggled like a schoolgirl, not an inaccurate description. “Yes.”

He pulled down my last article of clothing and exposed my sex to the cool air. After he dropped my panties to the floor and pushed my legs apart. I had a case of the nerves for a second, then realized he wasn’t going to just fuck me hard and leave me, but he was pushing his face toward my pussy.

I didn’t know what to do. So I just laid there in a panic. That was the right thing to do. When his lips and tongue met my pussy I practically had an immediate orgasm. He didn’t need to go down on my. My pussy was already plenty wet. I was going to tell him that but then his tongue found my clit and I realized that he could practice the fine art of cunnilingus on me for a few minutes.

It wasn’t long before I actually did have an orgasm. My hips started bucking and I made that high keening noise I hate but apparently it’s my body’s response to too much stimulation of the clit.

“Holy fucking hell are you beautiful when you cum,” he said to me when I was done.

I actually blushed. A guy had just put his face in my crotch and brought me to orgasm, and I blushed because he called me beautiful. At least I took the compliment politely. “Thank you. That was really good. You know what you’re doing.” I decided to shut up at that point because if I said anything else I’d give away that I had no clue what I was doing.

“I just wanted to make you good and ready.”

“I’m ready,” I said. I wasn’t really. I was a virgin. I probably should have told him that. But I only considered myself half a virgin. Even in high school I knew I had a high sex drive. I also had an understanding and very cool aunt who I could confide in. She bought me my very first vibrator. Vibrators, for the uninitiated, feel fantastic on the outside of any girl’s pussy and mine had brought me to innumerable orgasms. I drained more batteries with that thing than my brother ever did with his xBox controllers.

Vibrators feel even better when inserted into a girl’s pussy. It was tough going at first but I needed something inside of me. The first time I pushed the vibrator into my pussy was a bit painful, then I turned it on and I forgot all about the pain. Over the course of the next two years I became an expert on wielding a vibrator. I could have been a masturbating porn star if I wanted.

The important thing here is that my pussy wasn’t truly virgin. True, never had a penis gotten anywhere near my vagina. But she also had my fingers and two different vibrators a hundred different times.

That was why when I saw Jaret rolling a condom on his cock I knew I wouldn’t have a bit of trouble accommodating him. That made me panic a bit. Would he think his cute chubby bunny girl was also a secret slut. But before I could ask or stop him, he had crawled on top of me and I felt his cockhead at the entrance to my cunt.

“Are you ready?”

“Uh huh,” I said as vaguely as possible to make him think I wanted to fuck, but was a little unsure about the whole thing. I also tightened up my pussy muscles so he would have a slightly difficult time entering me.

That didn’t work at all because he slid right into my cunt. “You are fucking wet!” he said when he was in. “And tight. Hell on fire, you’re a great lay.”

I couldn’t believe he was so gullible. I was certain he’d call me out on being a practical virgin and I fooled him.

For a minute I felt terrible about lying to Jaret. And then I started feeling the effect of him fucking me and I forgot all about fib of omission.

It wasn’t the best sex I’d ever had up to that point. I’d given myself many wonderful orgasms with both my hand and my vibrator, too many of them to number that were on the scale that made my eyes want to roll up into my head and made me see other dimensions. Jaret was great in bed, but my first time with another person was focused mostly on what body part went where and how much I needed to worry about my appearance. Still, even with all that Jaret managed to hold back his orgasm until I came once—even if it was just small, relaxing climax. I gave the right response and moaned and groaned in a fashion that pleased him.

Then he came—and I immediately wished that he wasn’t wearing a condom. The way his cock got so hard and hot I wondered what it must feel like for burning semen to splash around inside my pussy. I almost came a second time.

When he was done, I started laughing—giggling—in relief and happiness. It had been such a wonderful experience—even with my initial reluctance and mistrust—that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t been the butt of a joke.

“Why are you laughing?” he asked me.

“It’s a relief.”

“What?”

“Everything. Knowing you didn’t bring me back here to make a fool of me.”

He grinned and rolled to his side. “I brought you back here to get laid. Was that wrong?”

“No, it was truly the best thing in the world.”

 

 

 

Chapter Two

 

It was weird to have a boyfriend, but that is what Jaret was. Fat girls weren’t supposed to have boyfriends. But I did and that made me practically float on air. Oddly, it made me focus on my studies as well because I was sure if I fell too deeply in love with Jaret I knew I’d come crashing down and needed something real and tangible to steady myself with.

Even in happiness I couldn’t relax, I always had to have a backup plan.

On the plus side my pussy was getting a workout I couldn’t have imagined. It’s one thing to masturbate with a vibrator and fingers on a regular basis. It’s another entirely for your boyfriend to always be pulling off your clothes the moment the two of you are alone so he can get to your pussy and ravage it.

“Not tonight,” I told him once when we had finished up our homework and he moved from the seat at my desk and onto my bed where I had been reading Crime and Punishment.

“What’s the matter? Have a headache?” He grinned thinking he was making some clever joke about bored and frigid housewives from the 1950s.

“No.”

“Caroline won’t be back for at least an hour,” he pointed out. My roommate disappeared whenever Jaret came over. I wasn’t sure if she didn’t like him or just wanted to give us space. Maybe watching a fat girl make out with a drama geek turned her stomach.

“That’s not it. Pussy-ache.”

“What?”

“You’ve fucked me so many times I’m too sore to have sex tonight,” I told him and swatted him over the head with my paperback copy of Dostoyevsky as he snuggled up to me on the bed. That barely deterred him.

“Want me to go down on you?” he offered in what was a most gentlemanly fashion.

“No, I want a little time to recover. And don’t bother asking for a blowjob either, if I’m too sore, then you don’t get any either.”

“Okay, okay,” he said softly to assuage my anger. “Can I ask you something?”

“How can I stop you?” I asked. I had already gotten too comfortable having Jaret as my partner. A month earlier I would have done anything he asked just for the illusion of human companionship and affection, now I was telling him to keep away.

“Can I use you as model for my drawing class?”

I sighed and narrowed my eyes at him. “What do I have to do?” I asked him. I was impressed with his ability to draw. Mostly I’d seen doodles he put into the margins of his notebooks, but even those were somewhat impressive.

“Nothing,” he said expansively. “Just lay there and read. I want to capture you doing something casual. I just need to do some life drawings and my schedule doesn’t work for when they have models posing in the studios.

“Oh. Okay. Fine.”

“And take off your clothes,” he amended.

“What?”

“It’s nude figure drawing. But keep reading your book. That gives you a certain sexy look that a model posing in the middle of the studio can’t capture.”

“You want to draw nude pictures of me?”

“Three pictures, actually.”

“I don’t know. I don’t want my face and nude pictures all over the place.”

“The only one who is going to see them is the professor. And me. And I’m not going to be focusing on your face; it’s your body I want.”

“I bet.”

“Please,” he pleaded, begged. “I can’t resist salivating over your body.”

That, oddly, was true. “I don’t know…” I was truly on the fence. I had been difficult to get naked with him the first time and I still occasionally had twinges of nervousness when we took off our clothes. He did everything correct to keep me at ease, but I even mistrusted that because I was so used to being suspicious of everyone’s motives.

“Please,” he begged again, sounding like a little kid. “I’ll obscure your face. I’ll put your book in front of it. No one will know. It’s just a black and white pencil study.”

I’m certain there were a hundred ways people could figure out who the naked fat chick was in Jaret’s drawings. But would anyone in the art department care?

And then there was the undercurrent of exhibitionism. I had lost fifty pounds since my heaviest. I was proud of that achievement and wanted to show off a bit, especially since so many of my peers had put on the freshman fifteen plus during the same period. But I was also still ashamed of my body. Still, trusting Jaret had given me some of the best sex and most wonderful weeks of my life. Nothing is ever gained without some risk.

“Fine,” I said, exasperated. Secretly inside I was a bit excited and thrilled. I was going to be a nude model in the privacy of my own dorm room.

Jaret watched as I pulled off my clothes and arranged myself on the bed with my book propped up. It was a little odd to be naked while he was fully clothed but I tried to ignore that.

“Be natural,” he told me.

“I am.”

“You’re trying to hide your breasts and pussy,” he pointed out. “Pretend you’re dressed and that I’m not here.”

“Right,” I grumbled. I rearranged myself a little to a slightly more natural pose and ignored him. I was good at ignoring people. I had years of practice in high school where the insults flew at me every day of the week.

“Better,” he said and bent to his work. I could hear his pencil scratching across the rough drawing paper as he worked. I tried to concentrate on Dostoyevsky’s epic tome of Russian madness and fitting justice. It wasn’t a page turner. Still, I was naked with my boyfriend and getting homework done while my pussy was getting a much needed rest. I didn’t want to wind up at the campus infirmary with some weird infection because my vagina was raw from too much friction. Fat jokes I could endure; raw pussy jokes were sure to cripple me.

Jaret had me change position several times as he worked. I actually got a lot of reading done which was critical. I actually didn’t forget he was there for a time. Then I’d hear his pencil or eraser working and I’d be snapped back to reality.

Who would have thought that fat girl Susie was spending time in college getting fucked by the cute drama major (not gay, an oddity) and working as volunteer nude model?

“Done,” Jaret announced.

“I want to see,” I immediately said when he started putting the drawings back in his portfolio.

“An artist isn’t supposed to let anyone see the product until the work is done,” Jaret said, trying to fend off my grasping fingers.

“You said you were done,” I reminded him.

“Done for the teacher, but you know, not done done.”

“Whatever. Give me the fucking portfolio or you won’t get any more pussy from me ever again.” It was a hollow threat; I do anything to have his cock back inside me again. But it worked. Jaret handed over the pad where he had been working.

The pictures were good. They were only pencil studies, as promised, and my face was either obscured by the angle or my book. He had taken care to show I was reading Crime and Punishment. I looked at my naked body and wondered if I actually looked that sexy in reality or if it was just an artist’s idealization of me. Was Jaret so in love with me that he what he put on the paper was what he believed he saw? Did his eyes alter reality for him when viewing me?

I couldn’t believe the next words out of my mouth. “Can you draw a really sexy one of me?” I asked. “Not for the class or the professor.”

He took his pad back from me and pulled out his pencil. I watched him as he worked this time. God, gods, and goddesses he was cute. He would frown and grimace when he was concentrating. His hair would occasionally fall in his eyes and he’d angrily brush it back. The finished product was a bit slutty and I loved it. I was on my side with my legs open ever so slightly. The bush of my pubic hair didn’t fully hide my sex. My breasts were full and heavy. There was an intense look of concentration of my face—and it was my face—probably because one hand was slipping between my legs with the obvious implication the model was masturbating at the time of the drawing.

It made me smile

“Like a classic bit of pornography,” I complimented him, taking the drawing out of the pad.

“Is that a flattery?” he asked.

“Yes.”

That got me a kiss and before he could ask I fell to my knees and gave him a thank you blowjob. He appreciated that.

I couldn’t display the picture on my wall so I slipped it in the top drawer of my desk where it would be safe and I could look at my sexy self anytime I wanted.

 

Like so many things, once you get a taste of them, you want more and more and more: video games, movies, books, alcohol, sex. I’d tried all of those and I’d moved on to posing for dirty pictures for my boyfriend. I never thought I had a bit of an exhibitionist streak in me, but it’s amazing what you discover at college.

“You don’t mind posing for a few reference pictures for me to sketch from, do you?” Jaret asked. He already had his camera out and I was stripping off my clothes. It was a done deal. Why was he asking questions about my willingness? I do just about anything he asked of me; I just hoped he wouldn’t find out how eager I was to be willing for him.

“Not at all,” I said. “I like it.”

“You like taking your clothes off so I can stare at your body?”