Hi. It's me again - Anne. It's been a couple of years since I wrote about the... little toy I bought for myself on my eighteenth birthday. Like I said back then, as much as I want it, I'm determined to wait for the right guy.

I'm twenty now, in my sophomore year of college. College has been great - I'm on my own, have made a bunch of friends and going on dates feels freer not having a curfew like I did at home. But what hasn't seemed to have changed all that much is the guys. Just like in high school, they seemed to have only one thing in mind, but I want more.

But that was before I met Brad.

He was in the library studying at a big table with a backpack full of books. I asked him if I could take the empty chair across from him, and he smiled, gestured at the seat and nodded. I sat down and took out my copy of Wuthering Heights, but I couldn't help but steal glances at him. He was tall, nicely tanned, with short blond hair and broad shoulders. He was wearing a T-shirt and his arms were nicely toned. Not like a gym rat, but clearly exuding strength. He looked up, and his eyes met mine, and he smirked, and I felt my cheeks burn just a little.

I whispered (hey, it was the library, after all), "What are you studying?"

He picked up his book to show the cover, "Calculus. I hate it, but... you know..." He glanced at my book and asked, "You?"

"English lit. I have to write a paper on Emily Brontë. She wrote one book, and it's super depressing."

He chuckled, "Sounds awesome. Hey, why don't we take a break? I'll buy you lunch."

I smiled and nodded. "Deal."

We walked a couple blocks to a burger joint just off campus. We talked over lunch. He's an engineering major. He's a lot like me in that he's a little bit introverted and still trying to figure out the college social life. We talked a little about family and where we came from. He played soccer in high school, but our college doesn't really have a sports program, so he just goes to the gym a few times a week to stay in shape. When we finished our lunch, he asked if we could meet again. "I can see if there's a good movie playing this weekend. Can I text you later?" I nodded and gave him my number.

That was three weeks ago.

We went to go see a rom-com I'd been wanting to see. He was a perfect gentleman. Halfway through the movie, he reached over and took my hand. After we got out, he walked me all the way back to my dorm, gave me a hug and a soft peck on the cheek, then watched me as I walked through the door. The next morning, he texted me to thank me for joining him and asked if we could do it again soon.

Brad was different. He seemed... no, I think he really was interested in me as a person. We talked about family, and we really got to know each other as people. He never pressured me. It was just nice spending time with him. I really felt at ease with him.

I still played with myself, of course, but those anonymous hunky guys I fantasized about taking me for their own... They started slowly, morphing into Brad.

Fast forward to last Saturday, some friends were throwing a party, so of course I invited Brad. I wore a nice white blouse, a cute skirt and flats. The music was loud, and the living room of the apartment was half dance floor, half mosh pit. Someone smuggled in a few bottles of wine. Brad and I had a couple of glasses. The wine must have given us both a little extra courage, because after a slow dance, he guided me into a quiet corner of the room, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. It was a long kiss. And when it was over, he kissed me again.

I kissed him back and felt the blood begin to surge through me, starting low in my belly. Almost as soon as they started, they moved lower, and I knew I was getting wet for him. And that awareness fueled my desire. Looking back now, I should have understood what that moment meant, but in the moment, I was too far gone.

We were in my friend's apartment, and I knew it would be ok to borrow one of their rooms. I broke the kiss, took Brad's hand and led him down the hallway and into the first bedroom I found.

The room was mostly dark, except for a bedside lamp. I shut the door behind us, and we met in the middle of the room. We wrapped our arms around each other and started kissing again, deeper this time, our tongues meeting. His hands began to move, and one of them stole to the front to fondle my breast through my blouse. I moaned softly.

He gently walked us backwards to the bed and eased me down. He sat beside me, and we kept kissing while his hands explored my chest. After a few moments, he began to work the buttons holding the blouse closed. When the last one was undone, I shrugged the blouse off my shoulders and pulled my arms out. Brad urged me to lie back. I did, my heart knocking hard in my chest.

Then he did something I didn't expect: he slid down to kneel on the floor between my legs. He put his hands on my knees and urged them apart. Then he put a hand directly on my vulva and began to rub it firmly. It felt better than I ever imagined it could. His touch was magic, and I couldn't help but give a low moan of pleasure. I felt him hook a finger under my panties and tug them aside. My face flushed hot suddenly as I realized he was the first man to ever see me there. My stomach did a little somersault from both embarrassment and excitement.

His fingers returned, sliding gently along my labia, teasing me. I moaned some more and spread even wider.

What happened next... Not in my wildest fantasies did I expect it... He leaned his head in and ran his tongue up and down my pussy where his fingers had just been. When he reached my clit he flicked it light and fast with the tip of his tongue, sending little bolts of lightning through me. Then he slid that magic tongue back down between my lips, probing.

Oh my god, even now in the cold light of day, I don't have the words to properly describe it. I moaned loudly and brought my hands up to my breasts, squeezing and kneading them through my bra as he kept licking my pussy. My hips gyrated on their own, trying to keep up with his probing tongue.

The next thing I knew, one of his fingers was at the entrance to my sex, teasing it. I was breathing hard at this point. He eased that finger inside me and at the same time began giving me long, slow, sloppy strokes with his tongue right across my clit.

I started whining, "Oh god... oh god...!" while the pleasure built like a fever.

And then it began - a sudden, massive, crashing orgasm tore through the whole of my body. I clamped my thighs around his head and began to shake hard from every joint - my entire body totally out of my own control. He didn't stop - he kept stroking that finger inside against the front of my vagina, where it's the most sensitive and tonguing my clit. The pleasure kept rolling, and when it normally would fade, it just kept building, wave after wave. Finally, he slowed and eased off and allowed the last of the earthquake to finally fade.

I don't know how long it took me to come down. Brad was lying beside me on the bed, his arm wrapped around my torso. He reached over and gently turned my cheek towards him so he could kiss me. The kiss was gentle, tender and loving.

I had no thought in me but gratitude and warmth and love - yes, love. I loved him. No, I love him, present tense. Anyway, I wanted nothing more in the world than to give him back even a tiny fraction of the pleasure he had just given me. I turned towards him, reached behind my back to unclip my bra and shrugged it off my shoulders to bare my tits for him. Then I reached for my waist and pushed down the skirt and panties and kicked them to the floor. Then I reached for the zipper on his pants. He saw what I was doing and lifted his hips to help. I worked the zipper down and the button open, then pulled his pants and underwear down together. When they cleared his hips, his cock sprang free.

There it was, in all its glory. My first real cock. It stood straight up, tall and proud. It was about the same size as my dildo, but it was so real. It twitched once while I watched it. It was alive and virile. I wrapped my hand around it at the base and felt its warmth. The skin was soft, but I could feel the iron core beneath. The head was smooth and bulbous, like a little helmet. I leaned closer to him and breathed in his musky, masculine scent.

Nothing prepared me for how wonderful this moment actually felt.

I leaned in and took the head of his cock into my mouth. I tried to think of all of the tips I had read on the Internet. I ran my tongue over and around the head and then gave a little bit of suction. I looked up at his face and saw his eyes close, and he let out a deep, guttural moan. That gave me the confidence to keep going, and I wrapped my hand around the base and started giving him short, slow strokes while I moved my mouth up and down over his cock.

He moaned again, louder this time. I sped up a little bit, and then I felt his hands pulling at my shoulders. I raised up off his cock, and for one anxious second, I thought I had done something wrong, but he pushed me onto my back and yanked his shirt off. Then he grabbed his pants and fished out a foil packet from the pocket and feverishly tore it open, then rolled the condom down on his cock. Then he moved back over me, between my thighs and brought the head of his cock right against my hungry pussy.

My mind was filled with a heady mix of trepidation and excitement. Then I felt the pressure of his cock pressing against the entrance to my sex. He pushed, and my pussy yielded easily to him, embracing his cock with its warm wetness as he sank all the way inside in one long, steady stroke. He didn't wait even a millisecond once he was buried entirely inside before he pulled back halfway and then plunged home once again, starting a powerful rhythm. I spread myself wider than I thought possible in a desperate effort to get every inch of him inside myself. My hands ran up over his muscular arms. They were taut and hard... so utterly manly.

I looked up at his face. It was so strong and had such a fierce, stern, determined look on it. I knew that those anonymous men I fantasized about on my own were all gone. There was only Brad now. He was a real man - flesh and blood, and he was mine. And he was taking me for his own - claiming me in the most primordial way there is. I wanted nothing but to please him. I wanted to make him lose control of himself the same way he had done for me. I wanted him to come and let me feel his cock throb and pulse and fill my molten pussy with his thick, hot seed. And I wanted it to last until the end of time.

Those raw, unhindered thoughts pushed me over the edge again, and I came hard around his cock, crying out as my pussy clenched and fluttered wildly around him.

Lost as I was in my own pleasure, I still heard him groan deeply as he drove one last time as deeply as he could. He held himself there for a microsecond, and then his cock grew a size larger and began to throb as he came. In the deepest, darkest corner of my lizard brain, I had a rogue thought: I wished that he wasn't wearing that condom. I wanted to feel his semen fill me, trying to put out the fire his cock had lit inside me.

And then we were spent. Like a marionette with the strings cut, Brad collapsed on top of me. We were both panting hard - the only sound in the room. Finally, Brad caught his breath and eased out of me. I shuddered as the fullness left me. He rolled me to my side and pulled me close, sliding one arm under me so his hand could cup my bare breast. He kissed my shoulder softly.

I finally found my voice. "Oh my god, Brad, I had no idea it could be that good."

He smiled. "Thanks. Honestly? That was the best I've ever had, Anne. I don't think there's anyone in the universe better than you."

I blushed at the compliment. I turned towards him and kissed him tenderly.

We eventually got ourselves up and dressed. Brad walked me back to my dorm, gave me one last kiss at the door and promised me he'd text me in the morning.

My only regret is that I got a pretty shitty grade on that Brontë paper.