Whitney Learns to Suck

Mason sat in the corner of the Student Center with a cup of regular coffee and two week's worth of reading to finish before his history mid-term tomorrow. He needed the constant distraction to stay focused. Silence never suited him. He abhorred libraries and he struggled with the silence of test taking. Sipping his coffee, he devoured page after page of his reading. Whenever he looked up and saw another student walking past him, it reminded him why he was sitting there in the first place. He was skimming pages to match the slant of the text book to the slant of the professor. It's why he liked history, the facts seldom changed, only the interpretation of what they meant. Once he knew if this book thought the founding of America was an invasion by the oppressive white man or manifest destiny, he would be able to fill in the blanks from there. In two hours he covered a week's worth of reading when a distraction arrived he couldn't ignore.

"Ugh, American History," Whitney groaned. "I have to take that next semester."

"Here's a hint, we still win the revolutionary war," he said as he smiled at the petite nineteen year old from Northern Arkansas. Whitney smiled, tossed her now ginger colored hair over her shoulder and took a seat next to him at the table. "You look good as a redhead."

"Thanks. It's ginger. Red is next week. I have to keep going darker." She inspected his cup. "That's just coffee, isn't it?"

"Hot and black, like my women," Mason joked. He was as white as Whitney.

"Do you think I'm hot?" she asked. She played with her hair, blew a bubble with her gum and Mason struggled to remember she was nineteen. At twenty-eight years old, he was too young to feel old. Being surrounded by people in their late teens did that to him.

"In that innocent, I'm a rube from the country kind of way."

"A rube?" Whitney objected.

"Better than calling you a hick from the sticks, ain't it?" Mason said, letting his Southern Missouri roots show.

"Listen to you," she said, smiling. "You think you're all that and a cherry on top because you're old."

"You can be on top if you want." He wore an amused grin on his face as he watched her work out what he meant.

"Hey! I'm not a cherry!"

"You will be if you go red the wrong way," he offered, taking the sexual edge off his comment. She shot him a smirk and he decided he liked her better when she looked surprised. "So when you dye your hair, do you make sure the carpet matches the drapes?"

"What's that mean?"

He rolled his eyes and gave the world a painful sigh. "Nothing."

"Don't be like that with me, Mister. You tell me what that means right now."

He flicked her hair. It felt soft and silky. "Drapes," he said before looking down at her waist. "Carpet." Whitney still looked confused. He didn't help. He glanced at his history book. He was turning a page before she leaned close and put her hand on his knee.

"You confused me because I don't have a carpet," she told him. He gave her a skeptical look. "I'm serious. Shaved smooth."

"Since when?"

"Since last summer... Hey! That's none of your business!" But she was smiling before a cloud passed over her face. "I did it for my boyfriend before we broke up and liked it."

"Did he ever get to see?"

"No."

"His loss. Can I see?" he asked with a grin.

"No!" she said, returning to her default setting of being shocked at his suggestions before she glanced away. She looked at him again and changed her mind. "Maybe."

He kept his spot in his history book but his attention was on her. His eyes flickered over her. Short and busty, Whitney referred to herself as fun sized. Mason towered over her when they walked together. She had attached herself to his side after the first week of classes. They shared two classes and she had an uncanny ability to find him whenever he lounged around the campus. Mason wondered if she was part of the reason why he choose to study in the Student Center instead at his off-campus apartment. "Maybe?" he asked.

"Maybe you should ask me out sometime. It might be fun."

"You die of embarrassment before the date was over," he said, referring to the number of times he made her blush. He was convinced she liked his constant innuendos. Why else would she seek him out or walk between classes with him? But Mason knew her type. She was a small town girl who thought she was going to school in the big city. She had been raised on going to church all day on Sunday and every Wednesday night. She was a former cheerleader who had probably been in the running for Homecoming queen. She was definitely cute enough to be the Homecoming queen.

"You might get lucky," she teased.

"Maybe with Lefty Lucy or Righty Tighty," he laughed and looked at his hands. He kissed them both and told his hands, "I love you, girls."

"Oh-my-God!" Whitney screamed and laughed hard though her face was dark red with embarrassment. She was proving his point. Mason gave her moment of shocked embarrassment and turned back to his history maltepe escort book. He felt her watching him read. She waited until he turned a page before she leaned close again, hand again on his knee. She pressed close to his ear and whispered, "I'm serious. You might."

Mason pretended to stare at his page for a moment longer. Her hand on his knee felt good. She moved it higher up his leg, her fingers tracing the inside seam of his jeans. She went halfway up his thigh before she stopped. "Keep going and Righty-Tighty's going to get lucky tonight."

"Can I watch?" she asked. She slipped her hand farther up his thigh. She wasn't touching anything important. She had several inches to go before she would reach someplace interesting. That distance didn't stop his body from wanting it to happen. He kept his head down as if he was reading.

"Watch or help?"

"Both, if you teach me." Another inch closer and he could no longer pretend to read. He looked at her pretty blue eyes, tiny nose and soft looking lips. He could guess she was a good kisser. Mason was sure she loved to kiss. That's all good girls like Whitney would do, kiss and push away exploring hands with the skills of a Ninja. She licked her lips and seeing the tip of her pink tongue flashing along the corners of her mouth did as much for him as her hand on his thigh.

"Don't," he said as he laid his hand on top of hers.

"Don't what?" she asked with a wide-eyed look of fake innocence. She tried to inch her hand higher on his thigh. She didn't have much room left before she would reach his package.

"Don't tease," Mason said. "It's not fair. You can get to me but I can't get to you."

"Says who?"

"Says the world. That's the way it works. Girls are all soft and alluring, tempting and teasing. Guys are all hard and rigid and all about action. Don't act as if you don't better."

"Are you hard and rigid?"

He stared at her for a moment before picking up his hand. "Find out if you want." As he expected, Whitney froze. Her hand never moved. He gave her a polite smile and turned back to his open book. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Whitney looking across the Student Center and the rows of empty tables. Most of the college attending world had gone to class. They weren't alone in the building, but the din and noise of students passing through had reduced to the point where they could hear the music piped through the speaker system against the ceiling. It was as private as they could get inside a very public place. She grabbed his crotch and Mason jumped. "Hey!"

"You said I could check," she giggled. Her hand was back on knee and she was back to wearing an oh-so-innocent expression.

He stared her down. Her smile and wide-eyed look never faltered. "Fine. Go for it," he said. He went back to reading as she slipped her hand higher up his thigh.

"Do you dress right or left?" she asked as she neared the junction of his thighs. That got his attention. "My dad ran a suit shop and I used to hear him ask men about that."

"Left," he said and kept his expression as blank as he could. He refused to give her the pleasure of knowing she had surprised him. She got up. "Leaving?"

"No, changing sides," she said. Whitney walked around the table and sat down on his left side. "It's better this way. I'm right handed."

"Me too," he said, making a reference to masturbating. He wasn't sure if she caught it and it didn't matter. His manhood rested against his left thigh. He wasn't hard, but her teasing had increased its length and thickness. If she slipped her hand as far up his left thigh as she had his right thigh, she would touch its tip.

Whitney's hand moved slowly up his leg. He tried to read his book but kept a discreet view of her out of the corner of his eyes. He smiled. She looked as if she was watching a tennis match as she moved her hand a bit higher on his leg, checked the room, checked his reaction and glanced again at the room before creeping her hand higher.

"You're getting warmer," he told her.

"I don't want warm," she said. "I want hot." She moved her hand up his leg until her fingers found the lump inside his jeans. She squeezed his thigh and other part. He went tense but forced himself to remain still. "Problem?"

"Not yet," he said. He turned an unread page to maintain the illusion he was reading. Whitney kept her hand over his prick and gave him slow caresses. If she was trying to make him hard, it was working. He felt his prick move higher up his thigh as he got harder. If she kept going he would be bent in an uncomfortable position.

"Problem?" she asked. She had felt the change and the movement.

"If you keep doing that, I'll need to re-angle the dangle."

"Tease."

"Me? Excuse me, I'm not the one groping you."

"You feel good." She was still keeping an eye on the Student Center though he doubted anyone could see or guess what was happening beneath the table. "I want this," she said as her hand pendik escort cupped his thickening prick and removed any doubt between them about what she wanted to touch and it wasn't his thigh.

"Hold on," he said. He reached inside his pants and pulled his prick upright before he got any harder and felt twisted. His prick still laid towards the side. It was pointed at her. When she put her hand on his thigh again, she felt the empty spot and felt around until she found the lump that extended towards his pocket.

"What happens if you stand up right now?"

"You'll see the lump of my dick," he said. He wasn't going to pull punches with her. He never had and didn't see a reason to start now. If she wanted to play, he would play, but he wouldn't change how direct he was with her.

"Will it be obvious? I mean, will everyone be able to notice it?"

"I don't know, you tell me." He stood and faced her. Her eyes went right to his crotch and she smiled.

"It's not that obvious," she said as he sat back down. She put her hand back on top of him.

"What to know what sucks and what doesn't suck about my life?" he asked. He gave up trying to read. Instead, he watched her as she rubbed him with a bemused smile on her face. "In another forty-five minutes, you're going to head off to class and I'm going to be left with a hard-on and the need to rub one out."

"That's the part that sucks?" she asked. He nodded. "What doesn't suck?"

"You," he said and laughed as she gave him another shocked and surprised look before she started laughing, too.

"I might."

"Please. Have you ever?"

"No, but that doesn't mean I won't ever do it."

"Have you even seen a man naked? In real life. Naked and hard."

She gave him a hard stare as her smile faded away. "Just because I never have doesn't mean I don't want to do it. You know I think about it, like all the time. I really want to do... stuff. But I wasn't raised to be a slut." She didn't move her hand but she wasn't rubbing him anymore either.

Mason reached across the table and took her left hand in his. "Sorry, I'm being rude."

"You're fine," she said and started rubbing him again. Did she even realize what she was doing to him? "I'm just tired of being a good girl. I want to do things. I want to find out what it's like."

"Keep doing that and you will," he said with a nod at her hand on him.

"Promise?" she asked. She gave his stiffening prick another squeeze. If she didn't stop soon he would get harder and his prick would no longer be in a good position for her to rub without it being obvious what she was doing.

He gave her the first wide-eyed look of surprise since they had met. "Whitney Marie Barnes, are you coming on to me?"

"How did you know my middle name is Marie?"

"Mary, Marie or Lynn. You're from Arkansas, remember? Now answer the question."

She glanced away without looking to see if anyone could see them. "Maybe," she said. "Doesn't this make it obvious?"

Mason propped his chin on his elbow. "Fascinating. And what should we do?"

"I don't know. Everything?"

"No, you have to name something."

"Just stuff, you know?"

"Like kiss?" he asked.

"Kissing is good."

"Can I feel you up?"

"Not here," she said.

"You're feeling me up."

"But no one can see what I'm doing," she said.

Mason wondered how far she wanted to go and it didn't feel right for him to list things. "Name something. Tell me exactly what you want to do."

"Can I try sucking you?" she asked with her eyes wide and blush pinking her cheeks.

"Try sucking what?"

"This," she said, squeezing his prick.

"No, you have to say it. Tell me precisely what you want to do and we'll go back to my apartment and I'll let you do it."

"I don't want to say it," she said, giggling.

"Oh, but you have to say it. If you can't say it, how do I know you want to do it?"

"Can I write it?"

"No, you have to say it. Out loud. To me." She frowned but surprised him by doing it.

"Fine. I want to suck your cock, okay?"

Mason roared with laughter at her explicit words. He didn't mean to laugh, it had been too surprising for him to have any other reaction. "Well okay then. Let's go to my apartment." He shut his book, shoved it into his backpack and stood up. She looked at the lump inside his jeans again.

"Are you going to walk through the Student Center like that?"

"I'm going to walk through the Student Center like this while holding your hand," he corrected.

Whitney smiled, collected her things and met him on the opposite side of the table. Mason stayed as hard as he was as they walked through the Student Center through half the campus and the two blocks to his apartment. Every now and then Whitney would look. "I can still see it."

"You'll get to see even more of it soon enough," he said. Her constant checking kept him going. He didn't believe they were really kaynarca escort going to do it, but he had nothing to lose by following through. As they walked up the walk of his building, Whitney made a confession he had already guessed.

"You know I've never done this, right?"

"You know blow is just a word. It's not what you really do."

"You're a nut," she said and she giggled again as he opened the door to his building.

Mason kept his apartment clean. It was just him and he liked it like that. He led her to his couch. She sat. "Want something to drink?" he asked. She shook her head. "So how do you want to do this?" She shrugged. "Are you sure you still want to do this?" She nodded emphatically. "We can go into the bedroom if you want." Another shrug. She wasn't touching him anymore. "Want to kiss?" She nodded and his kissed her. He was right, she was good a kisser. He didn't rush things.

They kissed for a long time. His hard-on returned and finished growing until his need was an aching thrill that bulged out the zipper line of his jeans. He kept waiting for her to touch him again and it didn't happen. He didn't try to touch her beyond holding her close as they kissed. Slowly he began to accept the reality of the moment. Whitney was filled with good intentions to be bad but it wasn't in her to follow through with it. He backed away from their kiss. All kissing was doing was frustrating him and he didn't need the help to be frustrated. He cradled the side of her face in one of his big hands. "You're sweet," he told her. He brushed her lips with his once more. "Get your things and I'll walk you to class. I think you'll only be a few minutes late."

"But we didn't do it."

"I know. It's okay."'

"But I want to do it." She looked at his pants. "You still want me to do it, don't you?"

Mason felt off his game. What was going on? They had just spent fifteen minutes sucking face and she never tried to touch him. Back in the Student Center, she couldn't keep her hands off of him. "I, um..." he stammered. "Are you sure?" She nodded, alternating looks in his eyes with glances at his pants. "Whitney, I'm serious. I mean, if you really want to do it, I'll let you. I want you to do it. I want you to do anything you want to do."

"Okay," she said still looking at him with those pretty blue eyes. He tried to read her expression and couldn't. She looked as confused as he felt.

"So what now?"

"I don't know. I've never done it before. What am I supposed to do?"

"You just suck it. Treat it like a big lollipop or popsicle or something."

"Aren't you going to pull it out?" she asked.

Mason laughed. Had she been waiting on him? "Is that what you want me to do? Because if it is, I'll do it. I don't mind showing it to you." She gave him half a smile and nodded her head. He started to undo his pants before realizing it would be easier to stand. He unbuttoned the top of his jeans, carefully worked the zipper and pushed his jeans down to the middle of his thigh. His hard prick pointed straight up. He watched Whitney's face as she stared at the unveiling, waiting for any sign of discomfort. Her cheeks blushed pink as she glanced up at him before looking directly ahead again.

"You're not wearing underwear."

"I usually don't." He wasn't sure what to think of that being her first reaction. His prick pulsed.

"Did you make it do that?"

"No, I'm excited. It happens on its own. Sort of an involuntary reaction." He made himself a liar by making it jump again and exposed the myth. "That time, I did it."

"You can make it jump like that?" Whitney tried to look up at him but her eyes were pulled back again and again to his manhood. He made it jump a couple more times for her. "You're doing that, right?"

"Yeah, but I don't think you can tell the difference. The more excited I get, the more often that happens."

"Does it hurt?"

Mason laughed. "No? Why would you think that? It feels good when it's hard."

"I don't know, because it's all swollen."

"It's a hard-on, it's supposed to be swollen."

"Sorry," she mumbled and looked gave the floor a self-conscious look.

He put his hand beneath her chin and raised her face to his. "It's okay. You have questions. I get it." She smiled and he bent to kiss her again. Her lips were soft and sweet against his. Maybe kissing was enough when it comes to someone as pretty and innocent as her? He wasn't sure what to do. He stood back up again. "Okay if I take my pants off?" She nodded and stepped out of his jeans. She watched him carefully, studying how his prick moved as he moved. "Should I sit or stand?"

"I don't know."

"I'll keep standing, unless you want me to sit."

"Which is better?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Can I touch it?"

"It's sort of why I'm showing it to you," he said. She gave him a sardonic smirk before reaching for him. He stepped a bit closer, recognizing that standing should be good. It put her at a good height for sucking him, if that's still something she wanted to do. She laid her hand flat against his hard-on. With her palm against his balls, his cockhead extended past her fingertips.

"It's hot."

"Yeah it is," he agreed. She looked up at him and he smiled. "I know that's not what you meant. I think it's supposed to get warmer when it gets hard. More blood flowing to it."