Carol was different.

She was attractive, articulate, sensual, well educated, informed creative, playful, fun to be with, good in bed, and someone you could share a beer or coffee with and discuss all the world’s problems.

I liked her from the first time I saw her. I liked her even more as we got to know each other.

She was also very experienced sexually, even more so than Sarah, an aggressive force in the bedroom, insatiable, excessive, and sexually demanding.

She was the extreme opposite of Jeanine’s submissiveness.

While never actually diagnosed, carol was convinced that she was addicted to sex and had undergone serious counseling regarding her desires and needs.

Good, you say?

Read on.

I met Carol shortly after school started in the fall.

I attended a meeting of students who would be writing dissertations, and Carol was one of the speakers. She was two years older than me, and one year ahead of me in school. She spoke from a student’s point of view, giving her thoughts and experiences about the process of picking a faculty dissertation committee and the task and demands of writing.

Following the meeting, there was a reception for those in attendance. I took the opportunity to seek out Carol and introduce myself.

She was more on the cute side than “drop-dead gorgeous”. She had long, straight, silk-like red hair, parted in the middle, which she wore pinned up to the back of her head.

She didn’t have the dark red, more Irish-like hair. It was a lighter color, but more to the red side of a strawberry blonde.

Even through her navy blue suit, you could tell that she had a nice figure.

Her skin was smooth, clear, and an ivory white, and was accented by her bright red lipstick and nails, blue suit and a red and blue scarf.

She had a beaming smile that made her stand out in a crowd, and deep blue eyes that looked at you softly, warmly, yet with a hint of spirit and playfulness.

No sooner had we shook hands, said hello and introduced ourselves, than a faculty member whisked her away to meet others who were in attendance.

I left the reception a little wiser for her thoughts and suggestions, knowing only her name, and wanting to meet her again.

People seemed to know her. It wasn’t just her beauty. People liked her, her personality, and the way she handled herself. No one, however, seemed to know where she lived or even her academic schedule.

The fact was, she had no schedule. Like many others trying to complete their dissertations, Carol spent most of her time in her apartment writing and editing, and very little time on campus.

While I had the opportunity to meet several women that fall and winter, particularly graduate students and young faculty members, there was no sex for me from the time I last saw Jeanine through the winter and into the spring months.

It wasn’t that I was not trying or didn’t want to get laid. It just wasn’t happening.

For most of that year I worked out, jogged, disciplined myself to read, research and write, and attended the few classes that I had left in my graduate program.

It was just happenstance that on a cold, mid-April afternoon, I spotted Carol as I was heading toward one of my classes and she was walking on a distant sidewalk, in the opposite direction. I hustled across some grass and a few more sidewalks, caught up to her and casually re-introduced myself, as if this were some chance meeting. I was surprised that she remembered me.

She had just finished doing some additional research and was heading to her car. I talked her into having a cup of coffee in the student union and skipped my class.

One cup of coffee led to two cups and over an hour of conversation.

Even without makeup, she had a clean, but sultry, erotic look about her. The way she moved, tilted her head, smiled, and talked gave her this air of confidence.

She gave me her phone number and address and left me sitting at the small table staring at her beautiful ass as she walked away.

Ours was a typical first date. A movie, some dinner after the movie, coffee in a little shop a few blocks from her apartment, a walk to her apartment door and a short goodnight kiss.

I called her a few days later. We met for coffee on campus again. And she agreed to a second date.

The restaurant was a little higher class for the second date. We skipped the movie, opting instead for a long walk, talking about everything from graduate school and each of our interests, to our backgrounds, families, travels and other experiences.

She invited me into her apartment this time, and we had coffee and talked until the early morning hours.

I left her apartment that night wanting to know more about this woman. At least from my point of view, there seemed to be a spark of interest in each other.

There was a weekend off, as Carol had a previous commitment. And another weekend off as she had a date with someone else.

Nonetheless, we managed to meet several times for coffee during the next three weeks.

Then there was graduation.

The little town that was the University became overrun with parents, aunts and uncles, other relations and friends, as thousands received their undergraduate and graduate degrees.

As with most college towns, just as quickly as it was flooded with people for graduation, once the ceremonies had finished, the town and surrounding community emptied. It was as if the town and University had been abandoned.

Carol and I had a third, more casual date, opting for dinner at a restaurant a few towns away, and ending with some good old fashioned “making out” in my car in the parking lot next to her apartment.

We both continued with our writing, she finishing hers and me beginning mine.

Despite our mutual writing schedules, Carol and I were able to fit in several more “dates”, each one a little longer, a little more casual, and a lot more romantic.

Carol’s apartment was in the center of town, behind several storefronts lining the main street.

She lived on the second floor of a two story building, which one accessed by walking up a flight of wood stairs to a long, outdoor, exposed corridor. Her apartment was almost in the middle of the building.

In contrast to my apartment, hers was long and narrow, and easily a third of the cost.

The entrance door was bordered on each side by a window. Just inside the door was a kitchen/living room combination. Along the right side were a stove, oven and refrigerator, with a little table and three chairs by the window. On the left was a sofa bed, with two small sofa chairs at each end, two side tables, two lamps, and a coffee table.

Beyond the kitchen/living room was a full bath on the right, and a walk-in closet on the left.

Beyond the bathroom and closet was the bedroom, with two windows along the back wall, which overlooked the driveway leading to the apartment complex parking lot.

Carol had set up the bedroom in sections: a desk, desk chair, and filing cabinet in one corner; a small table with a large, circular mirror surrounded by light bulbs, in another corner; an armoire; a bureau; and a queen size bed.

Several of our dates ended at her apartment. We would sit on the sofa bed, talk, maybe have a beer or two, and then get to making out.

The kissing had become increasingly passionate and sloppy with a lot of tongue battling.

On the sofa bed, it was no different.

Carol’s lips were soft and sensuous; her hands and long fingers would hold my face or dig into my shoulders and back; her hair would fall all around us and tickle my face and neck; and, her perfume would surround us and make the whole thing seem like a wonderful, erotic dream.

We were always right on the edge.

I would run my hands over her back, sometimes pulling her shirt out of her pants so I could feel her soft, smooth skin. When I could, I would cup her ass with both hands and pull her into me so we could feel each other’s body heat, I could feel her hard nipples, and she could feel the bulge in my pants. Her hair would get messed up, her lips bruised, and she would purr and moan.

Eventually, kissing would not be enough.

Part way through one of our “make-out session”, Carol went to her bedroom to change clothes. She emerged with a University sweater, faded jeans and a pair of silver, flat shoes.

We resumed our kissing, although in more of a reclined position than before.

To say that I was horny and turned on would be an understatement.

There was that moment when I thought I could not take any more of the kissing, playing and teasing, and wanted to make a move.

I hesitated.

I wanted to touch her, feel her, make her feel wonderful, but that kind of boldness might ruin what was developing between us.

I really liked this lady. I thought she liked me. It would be tragic to ruin it all with a negative reaction from her.

On the other hand, she had moved in closer to me, had not hesitated to thrash her tongue around inside my mouth, and, it seemed, that her moaning and purring with each long kiss was an invitation to do more.

I cupped my hand around her breast and squeezed, feeling her nipple in the palm of my hand.

She said nothing and did nothing, except moan louder and stick her tongue down my throat.

“That feels so good.” she told me.

Like two sixteen year olds, I continued to squeeze her breast and she ran the palm of her hand over my hidden erection.

“Is that all you?” she asked between kisses as she grabbed at my swollen member.

“Yes.”

As if we both realized that we were adults, and not sixteen year olds petting in the back seat of a car, we broke the hold we had on each other and interrupted our sloppy kissing.

Carol looked at me for a few seconds, tilting her head a little, and sweeping her hair back behind her ear. She reached out and took my hand in hers.

The next words were unexpected.

“Do you want to fuck me, Michael?” she asked, as if she had posed that question every day and it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Caught off guard by her frankness, several sarcastic, hopefully humorous thoughts passed quickly through my mind.

“Yes.” I said, the adult in me having quickly dismissed any potential childish remarks.

Carol jumped off the sofa bed, opened a draw on one of the side tables, and removed a pack of playing cards.

“Then you’re going to have to earn it.” she said with a laugh and big smile, as she sat back down on the sofa bed.

Carol proposed a game of strip poker.

She removed her shoes, leaving her with four pieces of clothing. I removed my shoes and socks, leaving me with four pieces of clothing.

She shuffled the cards as she sat cross-legged in front of me. We cut the deck to see who would deal.

I had a Jack. She had a three.

It was straight poker. Five cards would be dealt to each of us. After looking at our respective cards, we could throw away as many as we wanted and get as many new cards back, dealt off the top of the deck

I won the first hand.

Rather like Houdini removing a straight jacket, Carol pulled her arms in from the sweatshirt sleeves and somehow managed to remove her bra, tossing it aside.

Carol dealt the second hand.

I won again.

She removed her jeans, pulling the sweatshirt down to cover her panties.

I dealt the third hand.

It was close, and there was some rule interpretation and discussion, but she ultimately acknowledged that I had won again.

Carol carefully removed her panties, stretching her sweatshirt down to cover her now bare ass and pussy.

It was her turn to deal.

“Want to make it interesting?” she asked, as she tried to toss her long hair back with a flip of her head.

Her hair rolled back over her should and hung partly in front of her shoulder and chest, almost to her waist, and partly behind her.

She looked at me for a response, her legs folded under her, and the deck of cards in her hands.

What really got to me was the way she looked at me, the way she nudged and moved as she waited for my response, the little smile on her face, and the air of sexual confidence that surrounded her.

I looked into her blue eyes and she looked directly back.

It was a lustful, erotic, sensual, daring look of a woman who wanted to be fucked.

This was a side of Carol that I had not seen and would not have imagined, given her presentation at the graduate student meeting, our coffee discussions and our dates.

“What have you got in mind?” I asked, continuing to look into those blue eyes.

“If you win”, she said, “you can have me any way you want.”

“And if you win?” I asked.

“You have to take everything off and I get to have you in whatever way I want.”

It was an interesting bet.

On one hand, there was the possibility that I was going to fuck Carol for the first time, and in any way I wanted. On the other hand, I had won three hands in a row, and the odds were against me winning a fourth hand.

And, having just seen a side of her that I did not know existed, I didn’t know what it was she would want to do to me.

She had presented me with a choice, a dare actually, that both turned me on and scared me at the same time.

“Deal.” I told her.

“Straight up poker?” she asked.

“Just five cards, all facing up.” she added before I could speak.

“It’s your call.” I said, nodding my head in the affirmative.

She dealt the cards slowly, calling out each card as it was dealt.

When it was all over, Carol had a pair of fours. I had a pair of tens.

“You lose again.” I said, trying to remain calm.

Carol was not a sore loser, and she did not hesitate. She pulled the sweatshirt over her head and tossed it on the floor.

She sat across from me on the couch, her entire body exposed and beautiful.

Her skin was smooth, like white silk. Her breasts were perfectly shaped and a moderate size. She had puffy nipples that were a bright red set against her white skin. She was not shaved, but trimmed and cut very short. Nothing really hid the red, wet slit that had already started to flower and leak her juices.

She looked at me with a smile and twinkle in her eyes.

“Well?” she asked, clearly sending the message that it was my move.

“Well, let’s take our time here. Is there any rush?” I asked.

I reached out and started to pull her to me.

As she moved towards me, Carol threw her leg over my knees and sat astride me on my lap.

She seemed eager to get to the fucking part.

“You’re a big boy, and big boys have to make decisions. How do you want to fuck me”?

“I think…..” I said, pausing for a few seconds as if in deep thought.

I think….maybe….” pausing again, just to tease her a little.

Carol leaned back giving me a full view of her body.

“Anyway you want.” she whispered in such a way that I almost came in my pants.

“Doggie”, I finally said.

“I love it doggie.” she yelled gleefully, backing off my lap, standing, taking my hand and leading me into the bedroom.

For the most part, all I saw was her ass and her tits and hair swinging back and forth, until we reached the bed and she bent over to re-arrange the pillows.

Bent over, with her legs spread a bit, I had a wonderful view of her full, wet pussy and great ass, as well as her tits dangling down and swaying back and forth.

There is no better site in this world.

She looked back at me; I think to make sure that I was taking in all the sights.

“Unless you’re going to fuck me with your clothes on, you’d better get undressed.”

After all of the times with Sarah, and the more recent times with Jeanine, I admit to being flustered.

I quickly removed my shirt and undershirt, undid my belt and took off my pants, noticing for the first time the large wet spot on the front of my pants where Carol’s pussy had leaked her juices.

“Stop.” Carol said. “Let me do the rest.”

With Sarah, there was a mutual sharing of our love making escapades; with Jeanine, she was the submissive and I was in charge.

Now, for the first time, I felt as though I had lost control of the situation. Carol was in charge, and we were going to do what Carol wanted despite my desires.

It was a little unsettling, but interesting at the same time.

She slowly slid off the bed onto her knees in front of me, staring at the large bulge in my underwear.

She slid my underwear off slowly, letting my cock spring out in front of her face.

I stepped out of my underwear, and as I did, my erection swung back and forth, almost striking her in the face.

“You are a big boy. I love a nice cock.”

She took my shaft in her left hand and slowly stroked it. Pre-cum streamed out of the head, dripping onto Carol’s knees and the floor in long, sticky strings.

I was with a woman that I liked. She was attractive, intelligent, my age, and someone I liked being with. This was a lady that I wanted to get to know; that I could get serious about. Of course I had thought about sex with her. Who wouldn’t? But I had no idea that she was this sensuous and erotic, and that we would be having sex so soon in our relationship.

Carol took my cock into her warm, wet mouth.

Within minutes, she had my legs shaking and buckling.

It wasn’t that she was just sucking and licking my cock. Something, it turns out, she is very good at. It was the show she was putting on.

She stared into my eyes; she clamped her mouth over the head and shaft; she let her own saliva drip out of the corners of her mouth and drip off her chin; she fondled and tickled my balls; and she moaned as if mine was the best cock she had ever had.

I was just about to tell her to slow down or I was going to cum, when she stopped her sucking, played with my manhood in her two hands for another minute, and then looked up at me and asked if I was ready to fuck her.

I think I nodded yes.

It may have been the best five minute blow job I had ever had.

Carol climbed on the bed, got on all fours, arched her back and looked back at me.

“Go a little slow at first. Let me get used to you.”

I got on my knees behind her. My cock was twitching I was so close to cuming.

I slid my cock into her open pussy. It was warm, wet and wonderfully silky and smooth.

Carol let out a long moan of pleasure as I entered her, pushing my manhood in all the way up to my balls.

As requested, I went slowly at first, holding her hips in my hands and taking in the sight of her beautiful ass and back, and her long hair draping down to the mattress.

Carol went down onto her chest and face, her arms reaching out above her, her long fingers grasping at the bed sheets.

I fucked her slowly as I watched Carol grab and pull on the sheets, moan, spread her fingers out and grab more of the sheets.

“Pull my hair.” she instructed as she looked back at me. As she did I had one of those “don’t look at me or I’m going to cum” experiences.

I grabbed a handful of her silky red hair and pulled her head back.

“Yes. Yes Like that.”

When I thought she had become used to my girth, I started to thrust a little faster.

I could feel her pussy clamp down on my shaft as if she were milking my cock.

I pulled on her hair and grabbed her ass cheek as I increased the tempo.

Carol moaned and made all sorts of wonderful animal noises, encouraged me to fuck her, and held on tightly to clumps of the bed sheets.

I had not, up until this point, had any trouble holding back and lasting a long time. It was never a problem with Sarah. It was never a problem with Jeanine.

Now, suddenly, I felt the rush of intense pleasure build quickly and spread through my body. Before I could do anything to control myself, I was already beyond the point of no return.

Not wanting to cum inside Carol this first time without asking first, I pulled my cock out of her pussy and shot long streaks of cum down Carol’s back, some landing on her hair and some on her ass.

I was loud. I know I made long moans and grunts as my body was wracked with pulse after pulse of pleasure.

Even while I was in the pleasure of my orgasm, I was confused, flustered, and embarrassed at the same time. This had never happened before.

Carol said nothing.

She got off the bed and walked to the bathroom, cum running down her back, ass and legs.

I heard the shower. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I join her? Get dressed? Stay in bed?

The shower stopped and Carol walked out of the bathroom with a robe on.

“You should get dressed.” she said. The words, the sound, and the terse tone indicated that she was pissed.

And she was.

I got dressed and walked out to the kitchen, fully prepared to be told to leave.

“I’m making coffee. We need to talk.” she said.

The next several minutes were part good and part bad.

She liked me. She thought we had something going and wanted to see where the relationship would go.

That was the good part. Short, but good.

The rest was embarrassing.

Like a little kid, I was being taken to the woodshed for a good spanking.

“Can’t you control yourself? I understand that it was our first time. You were excited. You lost control. I get it. It happens.”

I tried to interrupt to explain that I was embarrassed and that cuming that quick had never happened to me before. She cut me off right after I told her that I was embarrassed.

“Don’t be embarrassed. It happens. But really, we were doing so well; we were about to have a wonderful experience together. And you ruined it. All you cared about was cuming; getting yourself off.”

I understood her anger. It was right up there with my level of embarrassment.

Still, I wanted her to understand that I was sorry, and that it would not happen again.

“I’m sorry. I like to think that I can last a long time. I like to think that I’m the type of guy who wants the woman to cum first. Even if I cum and you haven’t, there are still a lot of things we can do. I hope that we’ll discover together that I can make you cum with more than just my dick.”

I’m paraphrasing, of course. I remember what I wanted to say. It may not have come out exactly as above, but those were the high points.

She seemed to calm down a little.

You should take it as a compliment that I was so turned on by you that I lost control.” I continued.

I should have stopped when I was ahead.

That last comment did not go over well, and I should have just ended with a sincere apology. I screwed up and I wasn’t going to convince her otherwise.

The “premature ejaculation” subject was left to simmer, and she moved on to another of her concerns.

“Why did you shoot your load all over my back? I like cum. I like to play with it. I like it all over me. But I don’t like it on my back. What am I supposed to do rollover and get it all over my sheets? Ask you to wipe it off? Cuming on my back does nothing for me. Don’t ever do it again.”

She was so ramped up by this pet peeve that she was red in the face.

What was I supposed to say? I didn’t know that I was going to cum so quick that I had to cum on your back? I didn’t want to cum in you? You never told me not to cum on your back?

I opted to say nothing except to apologize once again.

“Don’t apologize. Just don’t cum on my back like that ever again.”

Lesson learned.

I contemplated the “don’t ever do it again” comment and whether that meant that I was going to get another chance.

“Are we okay?”

“Yes.” she said. “I’m sorry that I yelled at you.”

It was early morning, and I asked if I could stay.

“Of course” she said.

I started to stand and take her hand to lead her back to her bed.

Carol asked me to sit.

“Before we go any further, I need to tell you something. Something I should have told you before we had sex.”