Gracie - A College Student

A few nights ago, two students at the Pratt Institute had stayed up late discussing philosophy, religion, and politics. All the while belting back shots of vodka. As they got drunker and sillier, the conversation turned to sex.

One of the two, Grazyna, sat in the passenger seat of her friend’s used car, which was parked behind Gagootz. She tried to recall exactly how the dare had originated, but her memory was blurred by all the **** she had consumed. One thing was clear. Neither of the twenty-year-olds would give the other the satisfaction of being the first to back out. So, Grazyna, more commonly called “Gracie”, sat waiting for her friend to emerge.

Nearly thirty minutes after their arrival, Gracie’s diminutive friend burst out the rear entrance of the video store. Like Gracie, the other young woman wore glasses and had her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her face was flushed and she practically skipped down the steps and rushed to the car on her tiptoes.

“Nie do wiary!” she exclaimed as she slid under the steering wheel.

Gracie stared at her friend; it was hardly the reaction she had expected.

“Oszalałeś?” Gracie asked, lapsing into the common language they shared and which was one of the reasons the two had become friends at the University in the first place. Although both young women had been born in the United States, their parents had not, and Polish was the language spoken within their homes.

“No, I am not crazy,” the smaller woman said as she placed her hands on Gracie’s somewhat muscular shoulder, giving her a shove. “Now go ahead. It’s your turn… Unless…”

“I am not chicken,” Gracie retorted, completing her friend’s sentence while jerking up on the door handle.

*****

Gracie was a big girl. Not fat, although she did carry a few more pounds than she would have preferred. But big in the sense of being tall with long arms. She should have been a natural for basketball, except besides being something of a nerd, she was also a bit of a klutz. However, wearing a tank top, jogging shorts, and running shoes, she looked the part of an athlete.

She stood smiling nervously in the center of the small enclosure that formed the private viewing booth. As she glanced from one rectangular opening to the other that were cut into the separating walls, a set of male genitalia appeared framed in the aperture.

Kneeling in front of the hole, Gracie removed her glasses and set them down on the floor. This was a strange situation for her. Never before had she been so close to a male organ of a man she did not know. Did not know his name. Did not even know what he looked like. Just as he knew nothing about her.

The sense of freedom that swept over her was intoxicating. The unknown man was offering his anonymous cock to her to examine and touch. To play with and study. To stroke and feel and explore.

And to suck.

She had blown a couple of boys before, of course. Although her studies, shyness, and gangling appearance were not conducive to an active social life.

But now, this erect cock, made erect from her fondling, was all hers without any worries of disapproval or derision. She could practice her cock-sucking skills with no fears of being considered not very good at it.

So, with a quick intake of breath, Gracie opened wide and took it into her mouth. As she worked her head back and forth, her lips sliding repeatedly across the corona of the penis, her hand cradled the man’s full balls. She knew how sensitive, fragile even, a man’s testicles were.

She also knew, thanks to a pimply faced architecture major, that most (as in all) men love to have their balls fondled. She had only blown him a couple of times, back when they were both first-year-students. But he had to transfer to a different school when his family left Greenpoint, Brooklyn for Portage Park, Chicago.

Gracie continued her steady bobbing, her mouth concentrating on the head, her long fingers massaging and rubbing his gonads. Despite the wall separating them, Gracie could still hear the man’s persistent moans. The longer she sucked, the louder the moans became.

Soon, the unknown man’s balls drew up closer to his body. His hips started to twitch. Slowly at first, but gradually more insistent. More ****.

**KNOCK** **KNOCK** **KNOCK**

An almost animalistic howl accompanied the detonation within her mouth. As a first-timer at the glory hole, she had not recognized the warning whacking. But even with her limited experience, she knew better than to pull away from the spewing cock. One thing all of her few encounters had in common was the man grabbing the back of her head and keeping it clamped securely in place as he emptied himself inside her.

So Gracie dutifully kept her lips locked around the spasming organ. Her other hand sprung up to grasp the shaft, pumping away furiously while sucking hard. Urging him to finish. To obtain his release.

When the man’s ejaculation did end, the tall young woman on her knees looked up at the blank wall. She was almost disappointed that she could not see the look of satisfaction on the man’s face from her position down below.

Below.

She started to giggle, the unswallowed cum swirling around inside her mouth, nearly spilling out. A couple of years ago, in typical nerd fashion, she had looked up the etymology of the word “blowjob”.

One theory was that Victorian prostitutes referred to performing fellatio as giving a “below-job”.