textfiles/sex/EROTICA/T/trinit03.txt

                            Chapter Three

     I was not at all certain my feelings for the sensual young
professor could be called love, but I was certain he ranked high
among the best lays I had ever had.  His dark manliness contrasted
with the manly blond beauty of my father.  Beauty depended on my
mood, I decided, or maybe what was available at the moment.
     I sat in his office managing to keep my mind on the
conversation while still allowing myself delicious moments of
fantasy.  Ricky -- Dr. Enrique Alvarez -- was a true Latin lover and
easy to fantasize.  I often smiled as other girls wondered aloud
what he would be like in bed.
     But right now the discussion was of a different sort, one that
made me more uncomfortable than I let on.
     "Why does your father oppose your taking a major in sociology?
I've seen him on TV, and he doesn't strike me as one of those
preachers who oppose education."
     "He's not.  In fact, he has a master's degree in history
himself.  But he is afraid I'll get exposed to ideas that will
erode my faith.  He wants me to major in something safe, maybe phys
ed or something, and become a high school teacher."
     "If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?"
     "Crawl between your legs and swallow your cock."
     I loved the way he could arch one eyebrow while giving me a
patronizing look of amusement at the same time.  I loved a lot of
things he did with his face.  I gave him a wide smile.
     "You are a wanton freshman, Trinity Barrett.  Where, I can't
help wondering, does a fundamentalist preacher's daughter develop
the talents you have in the bedroom?  You do things with your pussy
muscles and throat muscles experienced seniors haven't learned."
     "Preachers' kids are notorious.  We learn it from the deacons'
kids.  Wanna fuck?"
     "What would your father say if he knew what you're really
like?"
     "How do you know he doesn't?"  I moved out of my chair and
crawled between his legs.  "My father has a very healthy attitude
toward sex."  I unzipped his pants.  "He believes sex taboos are
society's inventions, not God's."  I gently hauled out his already
erect cock and kissed it lovingly.  "He thinks everything is ok as
long it doesn't do anybody any damage."  I deep-throated him.
     "Ohhh."
     "Ummm."
     "God.  Trinity."
     "Ummmmm."
     I held his cock down my throat and pumped my face into his
hairy genitals.  I worked my throat muscles.
     "Oh, my God.  I'm going to go off like a volcano.  Trinity,
oh . . . Jesus God!"
     My tongue felt the pulsing of his liquid on the underside of
his cock, and I pulled back enough to receive his cum in my mouth. 
My mouth filled with his dick juice and I swallowed, losing as
little as possible of the powerful, copious spurts of Ricky's sperm
made by his big balls just for me.  I withdrew to let him cum in my
face, and swooned at the warmth of it hitting my eyes and nose and
mouth.  I licked a huge wad off my upper lip and worked it around
in my mouth before swallowing it.  He spurted again and it hit me
at the hairline and trailed gooily down my forehead.  He shot
another big load that splashed across my nose.  I looked like I had
pushed my face into a bowl of mayonnaise.
     "Holy, Christ, woman, how did you grow up to be so good?"
     "Good parental guidance."

                              * * * * *

     "Why does that waitress keep staring at me?" I said to Ricky.
     "I wish she'd stare at me.  Maybe she goes for goddesses
instead of gods."
     "We sure are a humble pair, aren't we?"
     I was used to being looked at.  Men looked at me in
appreciation and perhaps longing.  Women looked at me in evaluation
and were disappointed to find everything to envy and nothing to
criticize.  But the new waitress at the College Union Coffee Shop
seemed to look with no discernable motive.  There was appreciation
but not exactly craving.  Curiosity, sort of.  Evaluation without
judgement.  Her name tag said Christina.
     "I've seen her somewhere before."
     "Very likely," Ricky said with a smile.  "She sits almost
directly behind you in my Intro class."
     I felt foolish.  I had nearly started a fantasy about the
mysterious, sensual young woman.
     "My my, sweet Trinity, I believe your face is red.  What must
have been going through that mind of yours?  Certainly not this
report we are ostensibly working on."
     "Oh, sure, you can be cool and relaxed.  You just cum all over
yourself.  What about me?"
     "I just cum all over you too."
     "I sit corrected.  And still horny.  Here she comes with the
coffee pot again.  She's jealous.  She wants you."
     "Maybe she wants both of us."
     "I don't do women.  I can't figure out what to do with another
woman.  They're too soft and pliable.  I'd be afraid I'd break her.
I want a hard cock on a hard body ramming me and cumming in me.  I
want ------"
     "Coffee?" Christina asked.
     "Right," I said with an impish smile.
     The woman's hands were graceful, her arms lovely, her body
sensual.  When she reached across me to pour the coffee, there was
the hint of honeysuckle in her raven hair.  Sensual?  Yes, but
close to lewd in spite of her beauty and grace.
     Damn you, Ricky, I thought.  You left me so fucking horny I'm
getting turned on by a goddamned woman!  My senses were aflame with
desire.  If it went on much longer, I'd be making a grab for the
woman.
     Christina smiled, her eyes answering yes to unspoken pleas,
her lips moist with an invitation to lust.  I imagined I could feel
heat emanating from the woman's sexy body.  Christina cocked her
head, her beautiful face a tempting question mark.  I tore my gaze
away and studied the napkin holder.  I looked back in time to see
Christina cat-walking away.
     "Whew!" Ricky said in amazement.  "I've never seen so
electrifying a connection between two people in my life!  What in
the world was going on there?"
     I leveled fiery eyes at him and spoke through clenched teeth: 
"Alvarez, you dirty son of a bitch.  You take me somewhere and fuck
me, and I mean now!"

                              * * * * *

     He slammed himself against my exquisite ass as his meat
penetrated the soul of my vagina.  I felt it deep inside, thrusting
and probing and pounding and satisfying.  I went up on my tiptoes
and clutched the bed covers in my fists.  I ground my softly firm
young buttocks back against him to take all of his big rock-hard
cock.  My body was not my own.  It belonged solely to the man
plunging his god cock into me.  My moans sounded like they came from
someone else.


     "Fuck me, use me, make me know I am Woman and you are Man. 
Ohh, Ricky, Ricky."
     "Take it good, baby, take it all.  Feel my power.  Feel my
manliness slam-fucking you.  Take it, take it, take it, you
beautiful, cum swallowing Goddess of Lust.  Take me in."
     "Ram it to me, Ricky.  Be my master.  Use me.  Ohhh, Ricky,
fuck me to death."
     "You're my dick slave.  I'm using you.  I'm going to cum in
you.  Ohhh, God, Trinity, God, God, God damn you!"  His
vocalizations then became a long series of grunts, growls, and
moans, culminating in a Morse code of panting gasps.
     His emphatic and bountiful cum squirting into me sent me into
sexual hysteria, and I matched his near loss of control with my
own.  He had to hold tight to keep from losing me.  I screamed and
thrashed in my seizure of orgasmic frenzy, squishing and squashing
his organ of my ecstacy deep into me, feeling it consume and fill
me simultaneously.
     We collapsed forward on the bed, his cock ramming and jamming
me continuously, my body now in spasms as the two-celled animal we
were went temporarily insane, writhing, thrashing, plunging,
thrusting, kicking, moaning and wailing in the little death of
orgasm.
     We lay coupled together in complete sexual union, panting and
gasping our way back to normalcy, our bodies spent, our minds
awhirl, our limbs weak.  At last the peace of exhaustion came and
gave way to tranquil sleep.

     The unconscious is not so readily satisfied, nor is it quite
so kind to our pretense of convention and propriety.  It designed a
dream exposing the desire I had tried to avoid when awake.  The
latent content of the dream was more disturbing than its manifest
content and would leave me curious and unsettled upon awakening.
     I dreamed Ricky had left for class and I had showered and was
lounging on the bed in his apartment.  Oddly, I heard the shower
running.  The dream changed to my father's large bedroom, but it
was not my father in the shower.  It was my mother, the mother I
had never seen, not even in a picture.
     The shower stopped and directly my mother came through the
door toweling her long, raven hair, her face hidden by the towel. 
Her body was beautiful and sexy, and I lay naked on the bed waiting
to see my mother's face.  I had a feeling I almost knew what she
looked like, but I could not quite picture her features.  I waited,
letting my eyes roam freely over the wonderfully inviting nakedness
of my mother.  She had a cross in the same tender place I did,
proof we loved the same man.
     "Dry my hair for me, Sweetheart, will you?"
     I scooted to the edge of the bed and my mother, face still
hidden from sight, kneeled between my legs to let me towel her hair
dry.  I rubbed slowly, both of us knowing what was really
happening.  My mother nuzzled her face in my soft, beautiful legs,
feeling them, kissing them, worshipping them.  I tossed the towel
away and held my mother by the head as she kissed.  I tried to pull
her face up, but the dream force would not allow it.  I parted my
legs and let her slide her face between them, keeping them against
her face all the way to the wonderful goal of soft, young, fresh
pussy waiting eagerly for her mouth to titillate it and satisfy it.
     My mother's mouth was warm on my responsive cunt, and her hands
roamed slowly and caressingly over my legs.  I lay back on my
elbows to watch, hoping to see my mother's face, but I could not. 
I pressed my legs against her face, then wrapped them around her
head and rested my feet on her back.  I rocked my mother's face in
the cradle of my womanhood, feeling myself juicing up and my body
heat rising.  I was finding it necessary to take deeper breaths.
     I began admiring my own naked beauty.  My large, firm,
youthful breasts rose and fell.  My flat stomach with ripples and
shallows in perfect places was sensual and lustworthy.  My
beautiful legs displayed an exquisite interplay of muscle and flesh
that made me drool.  I had noticed my mother was similarly built,
and I was grateful for my genes.  Was her face also beautiful?  Why
this frustration of not being able to see?
     Female sexual intensity, caring not for the weal and woe of
aught but its pleasure, followed its course without regard to my
other needs.  My cunt was full of woman juice manufactured by my
young body at the insistence of my mother's face and mouth.  My
stomach was pumping and my breasts were heaving.  I could not hold
still.  My thrashing made it hard for my mother to service me.  I
needed more leverage.  I needed to fuck face uninhibitedly.
     Holding my mother by the face, I pushed myself off the bed and
turned the two of us around so my mother was sitting on the floor
with her head back on the edge of the bed.  I humped her that way
for a minute or two, enjoying the sight and feel of sweat on my
hunching, glistening body, then pulled her farther onto the bed and
climbed on her still-unseen face.
     At last my position and hold were perfect, and I hunched and
lurched to my pussy's content in my mother's mouth, sitting full on
her face, the dream allowing a vigor that would have left a
toothless woman under me in reality.
     There was a flood of release the likes of which few women have
known except in their dreams.  My body seemed to release all its
tensions at once, and I sagged over my mother and let her slurp up
the slime and sweat and goo of spent and satisfied womanhood.  I
sagged forward, my cummy cunt still in my mother's face, and lay
slumped over her in exhaustion.

     When I startled awake, however, reality was quite different. 
My legs were strangling a large pillow, and I was anything but
sexually satiated.  I hunched the pillow and grabbed myself between
my legs and masturbated until the intensity subsided without orgasm
and without the comforting feeling of having had sex.
     That son of a bitch Alvarez had left me there in his apartment
and disappeared.  Twice in one day.  I resolved to use him the next
chance I got and leave him laying there with a hard-on.  Yeah,
right.  That'll be the day.
     But if I could have that dream come true, it would be worth
all the Ricky's in the world to me.  If I could see my mother's
face . . ..

     In the meantime, my dream had left me needy, and there was
only one completely fulfilling sex partner.  Daddy.  Any time spent
with Daddy returned perspective and stability to me.  Sex with
Daddy was immeasurable icing on the cake.
     Imagine having a dream about having sex with my own mother! I
thought.  That's what I got for staying too long away from Daddy's
magnificent body and his sensitivity to my needs in bed and out. 
And that waitress, Christina, with her sexy body and sensuous
attitude.  She had practically seduced me right there in the
College Union.  She had made me think thoughts and feel feelings
that bothered me.
     But it would be okay as soon as I got home to Daddy.  He would
prove I wasn't a lesbian, and I would prove we were meant for each
other like no other couple had been since the Garden of Eden.  Then
I'd forget this strange reaction to another woman . . . this
strange, wonderful and frightening reaction to another woman . . .
and the dream.  Still, deep inside me, I knew the dream would
someday come true.  I had no idea my wish was in the process of
being fulfilled.

--end Chapter 3--