The Most Erotic Night Of My Life

I’m writing to tell you the story of the most erotic night of my life.

I was barely 21 years old and a senior in college. It was September 1990 and we, Lisa and I, were drunk. Not the incoherent falling over kind of drunk, but the kind of drunk that leaves you happy and amorous. It’s also the kind of drunk where things happen because inhibitions are down. It was time to take action on those obvious attractions everyone knows is there but no one talks about.

Our building sensual tension was like climbing a mountain. We were at the top of that mountain, and that night of drinking and dancing, the great social lubricant, pushed us past the tipping point.

Lisa and I met about two weeks before this through my roommate, Frank. In the small world category, Frank and Lisa happened to know each other through common friends. All of us lived in the same dorm, on the same floor. From our balcony, we could see the girls’ suite three balconies over.

The day we met I was on the couch in our common room, reading. It was September and it was hot. I was in shorts and no shirt, trying to keep cool while reading the latest Shakespeare or Oscar Wilde assignment. I was probably in the best shape of my life up to that point, or since. 5’10” , 175 lbs, fit but not overly muscular. I was average in many ways, but blessed with a Mediterranean complexion highlighted wth a good early September tan, deep brown eyes and a thick head of dark hair.

In she walked with Frank and the room got brighter.

Lisa was beautiful in a way that was unique. She possessed features that, when combined together, moved me. She was 20, about 5’4″ and slim with shapely legs, a cute butt and what looked to be B cup breasts. She had fair hair, blue eyes, freckles and a laugh that made me (a total stranger) smile. She was as Irish as the day is long but for the brogue.

I was drawn to her, not because of any one thing, but by the sum total of her beauty, personality, laugh and a subtle edge that was intriguing to me. She would smile a lot, and when she did her whole face would show it, particularly those eyes, which would brighten up when she laughed.

Our brief introduction was cordial, but as she was speaking to Frank, I was on the couch watching her subtly. She looked my way a lot, and she busted me looking at her often. Game on.

The two weeks between the time we met and this epic night was fraught with building sensual tension. The lingering looks, the innuendo, the casual brush of a hand or arm or leg during conversation. These touches were particularly electric, since, still summer, those touches were often skin on skin bared by shorts or short sleeves. The fuel for this fire was piled on day by day, we just needed to strike that match.

We, as a group of 10 or so, went to the bar just off campus about twice a semester. Being your typical poor college kids, we usually partied on campus as cheaply as possible. But tonight, for some reason, we chose to splurge. The bar was busy, we were close, and it was hot.

We were talking about nothing in particular, but because of the noise, every conversation was had like two conspirators in a great mystery. Mouth to ear, inhaling the scent of perfume and shampoo and a just a little perspiration. The hot breath on ears and necks created ripples of shivers.

There was dancing, and drinking, and dancing. Then came the lean. “Oh, I’m so tired, can I lean on you a minute?” she asked.

“Of course.” I replied in as cool a tone as I could manage.

Several minutes later, recovered, we finished our drinks and gathered the group for the walk back. She and I slowed a bit and ended up trailing the group by 50 yards or so. The subtle touching of the preceding weeks and hours intensified to arm in arm walking, almost hanging, onto each other.

Silent glances between us.

We knew, or at least hoped, what would happen.

Who breaks the spell?

Who crosses that last line?

How?

Where?

We returned and gathered in our suite for several night caps. An hour later we were short on drink and Lisa volunteered to retrieve her bottle of vodka from her room. “I’ll go with you!” I added, perhaps a bit to eagerly and a bit too loudly.

I followed her into her room and we were alone. She was looking out the window a moment and I put my arms around her from behind and bent down to put my chin near her face on her shoulder. She took her right hand and put it on my head and moaned just the subtlest moan.

I looked at her and turned her around and our lips met for the first time. Despite the two weeks of build up, it was surprisingly tender. It was that kind of kiss that leaves a heat signature, hot and dangerously close to exploding.

The second kiss was a conflagration.

Heaving breath, moans, tongues, nibbles, hands on skin. How long did it last? Who knows.

I slid my hand up her shirt, she was willing.

Bra clasp in the front, easy. Don’t go right for the nipple–tease a bit.

Over.

Under.

Find that glorious side where the swell of the breast meets just under her arm.

Take the scenic route.

Her nipples were hard, like pencil erasers standing tall. I still hadn’t seen them, but could feel them and they were amazing. I gently brushed them with the palm of my hand. My hands moved back and forth over her skin, circling and teasing her.

By then, she was quivering.

Her touch was electric; firm yet gentle on my chest and arms.

We paused and caught our breath. Staring at each other wanting to continue, we were waiting for the dam to burst.

“We can’t do this here, my roommate is coming back.” She whispered.

We nearly ran to my suite and found the crowd had gone. It turns out we had been away for about an hour. I kicked out Frank (he laughed as he squeezed by us), and we climbed up to my bed in the loft.

My roommate and I had figured out how to make two king size beds in a college dorm by building a platform about four feet off the ground that extended from wall to wall on one half of the room. I took the top, Frank took the bottom. With two mattresses on it, each of us had a king size bed. It was luxurious, and tonight it was going to be an altar of passion.

When we got up to my loft, we lay down and embraced that lovers embrace. Arms are entangled, legs are entangled, hips grinding, tongues writhing.

Shirts shed.

The taut coolness of skin on skin.

Pants unbuttoned.

The sweat building.

Giggles and tickles.

The rhythm of our breathing syncopated.

The firmness of her body the tautness of her breasts and nipples were intoxicating. Her breasts were small but exquisite. Pear shaped B cups with just the right amount of softness. I was entranced by the shape and curve, and by the nipples, now exposed. Pink, a little larger than a quarter, with those glorious nipples. She was beautiful.

She pulled her feet up to my waist as I was on top of her and she hooked her toes in the waist of my pants. She was able to pull them down with her feet. Never before or since has anything like that happened. Incredible.

She pushed me over onto my back and pulled them off me. My cock was hard; practically angry, at this point after all this buildup. I had a solid 6 inches, slightly above average girth and it was weeping pre-cum. At my age, I was at my peak and loving it.

She looked it over with a sly grin and a gleam in those Irish eyes and caressed me gently.

She took my cock in her hand by the base and said what is perhaps the most erotic thing any one has ever said to me “I’m going to swallow you now, OK?”

I almost blew all over the place right there. Jesus, I mean what the hell was I going to say. “Ohhhh, yessss” was all I could muster at that moment.

She slowly, achingly slowly, slid my cock in her mouth. All of it. This was a tortuously sensual move of a young woman who was good, really good, at oral.

Up and down she bobbed.

Swirling and sucking.

Licking and nibbling.

Swallowing me again.

How long did it go on? Who cares.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my oh my ohhhhh”. I cried as I exploded in her mouth. I came so hard I could almost hear it. It felt like gallons after all this build up. In no time it was gone. She swallowed it and looked at me with half closed eyes.

“Was that good?”

“Beyond good, beyond description. Come here.”

We made out tenderly and lay back to rest.

We dozed, and didn’t move until about an hour later. I was on my back and her hand started to lazily draw random circles in the hair on my chest. It’s that gentle touch that sends ripples through your nerves and wakes you up in more ways than one. Then…I had to pee.

Yes it’s awful timing but better before things get going than in the middle of it.

I threw on shorts, took care of business and was back in a flash.

As I lay back down, I find she’s no longer naked. She’s put on one of my button down shirts. Nothing else is on mind you, just that.

She straddles my thighs as I lay back and starts to tug at the waist of my shorts. I’m playing dumb, and she knows it.

“Whatcha doin’?” I innocently ask.

“You know.” she replies. This is said as much with her eyes as with her voice.

I challenge her “Yes I do, but I want to hear you say it”.

She leans over me, her shirt, my shirt, hanging open, teasing my lips with her lips. She whispers “I want you to fuck me.” I oblige.

Our lips meet in full lock as her hands are finally successful pulling my shorts down. I am released and nearly at full mast quickly. Her shirt comes off and we are back to skin on skin over our entire bodies. Despite the exertions of the night, her skin is cool, almost refreshing, and her kisses are like nectar.

I touch her pussy gently—there is a patch of hair that guides me to her warm treasure. First my full hand over her mound with an ever so gently circular motion. Gradually picking up speed and feeling the lips part to reveal the moist flower inside. My fingers probe gently, spreading her delicious juices. I can brush her clit and do so randomly, letting the sensation rocket through her each time.

She’s concentrating on what I’m doing, almost still but for the heavy breathing. Her legs part and she gently, almost imperceptibly, pulls me onto her. Our eyes meet, they are bright and clear and wanting.

“Be careful” she says. “Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes, I’ll pull out.”

With that, I press on and into her soft depths. Slowly, deeply, all the way in. It’s tight but not gripping. Snug and warm and slick and oh so good.

We gain our rhythm, our pace increases, the moans become whimpers that become staccato grunts that coincide with my thrusts.

Onward.

Deeper.

She pulls her knees up and deeper I go until we seem to create a new language.

“Ohmagod Ohmagod Ohmagod” we both croak.

I stop thrusting, bury inside her and rotate hips like you did so many hours before on the dance floor. I touch spots inside her that has her arching her back off the bed for a moment. “Ahhhhhh! Oh yes!”

I keep going, and going until I can feel the cum surging through me.

I get closer to the edge and still thrusting. Closer still and;

I roar as I just manage to pull out as my head explodes and out of my cock surges my cum. Stream after stream on her stomach and breasts. It makes her glisten, and smile.

We catch our breath and giggle. It’s close to sunrise and we’ve barely slept a wink.

We doze again in each other’s arms. Some time later we’re awakened by the phone. It won’t stop, so I climb down to answer. My roommate wants to tell us they are going to breakfast.

“Thanks” I reply, “we’re good.”

“We?” Frank says. I can tell he’s laughing.

“Fuck you” I say, laughing, and hang up.

I look up to the bed and Lisa is on her back with legs straight up in the air, together. She’s trying to touch the ceiling with her feet.

I can see, from my vantage point, her beautiful pussy lips. She doesn’t know I’m looking, so I reach up and ever so slightly graze her on her legs, inches from her pussy. She gasps and freezes. I touch her again on the other side, and now blow on her pussy gently. Her legs come down and come open, she’s calling me.

I climb back up and slide up her body my left leg between her legs, my chest gliding along and up her torso, nipple to nipple, mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue. We move over each other, kissing, nibbling, savoring the sweetness and saltiness of our bodies. I consume her nipple and breast and suck on it as if I’m starving.

She gasps some more and fingernails dig into me. My hand searches for her core. I find it, an open flower, warm and wet and waiting.

Her hand cups my balls and rises the length of my cock. She is stroking me, then gently tugging, then stroking some more. We’re both ready again.

We make love this time. It’s tender and passionate and very much not fucking.

I try to plunge in as deeply as I can and hold it. She is tight, and warm, and wet. How long can she remain still with my cock in her? What if I twitch it? If I were not embedded in her, I could twitch my erect cock up an down a bit. Doing that while inside her was like lighting a string of fireworks.

She shudders and writhes and moans and arches her back. It’s an incredibly powerful feeling to give a woman an orgasm. Powerful and joyful.

She settles down and I remain still.

She yells at me “Come on!” I begin again.

We make love for who knows how long, slowly building pace and rhythm until, with a cacophony of moans we climax. I regain my senses just in time to pull out and again cum on her body. It’s glorious.

Finally, fully satiated, we sleep.

We made love many more times that semester but broke up sometime before Christmas. Our time together was like a candle burning bright and fast, leaving immense heat and light but dying far too quickly. I’ve been married a long time now, but nothing, ever, has rivaled that night for its spontaneity, duration and passion.

Those years, those college years, are always special. We are full of passion for so many things. We are having experiences that shape us. Many of those experiences are incubated by the environment of so many young people living and growing together. There isn’t a time in life after that with that same chemistry.

I often think of Lisa, this experience, and the weeks that followed. Sometimes I think of this wistfully, sometimes lustfully, but always warmly. I often wonder where she is and what she’s doing now. I wonder if she ever thinks of that night. If so, does she recall it as I do; as a powerful and beautiful expression of the passion of youth? As a connection of two souls that left each changed for the better?

I hope so.