Roxy

My name is Roxy and I fucked Jack Alistair.

Okay, so I didn't know who he was at the time and he didn't have much of a name ten years ago.

But I did fuck him.

I met him at a kegger. Some fraternity or something was throwing it and I was the kind of girl who made a habit of showing up.

I had had a few drinks in me and was feeling nicely buzzed. The guys at the party were nothing special but I was horny. You know how it is, you go a few months without a guy and then suddenly you are ready to screw anything that has anything to screw with. So I started making the rounds. Flirting openly with various similarly-sloshed college boors and acting as loosely as a girl can while still keeping her clothes on. And then I saw him.

Or rather, I saw him as he saw me. There was this weird sensation that went through me. Like a little electric shock. He walked over to me and started chatting. Really talking, not just tossing pick-up lines in my general directions. It's funny because I don't know what he said or what I said but somehow we ended up in a dark empty bedroom making out as if it was our last night on earth.

I shouldn't be able to remember anything what with the alcohol and everything, but I do. I remember that he laid me down on the bed and kissed me. I remember that he took his sweet time with the kissing. He would nibble at one lip and then the other, gently pry open my lips and do things with his tongue that didn't include just sticking it in.

He took off my shirt and kissed my collarbone. Little moist kisses that turned my already messed-up brain into mush. Then he unclipped my bra and didn't stumble as he did so. His hands were warm on my skin as they ran over my body. And I do mean my whole body. Most guys take off my shirt and just focus on my boobs. I do admit I have a bit more in that department, not that I've done anything to them, but there is more to me than the average guy is interested in.

This one was different. This one rubbed my sides, licked a trail up my stomach, worried my shoulder with his teeth. He didn't ignore my chest, of course. Oh no, that tongue of his was real talented and it felt really good when he sucked my nipples into his mouth, sliding over the little, trapped nubs.

I pulled his shirt off and damn, the guy was well-built. All hard edges and lean muscle and tan skin. He seemed to like it when I smoothed my hands up and down his front, dropping kisses here and there. It was really starting to get heated in that dark room and I wanted more. And he didn't mind when I unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants.

He didn't have anything on underneath but I couldn't have cared less. There wasn't anything lacking in the down-stairs department, if you catch my drift. He saw me looking and smiled. It was the sexiest, most delicious smile of self-adoration that I had ever seen. I was hovering over him at that point, my long hair tickling his chest. He pulled me into his arms, flipping us over, and kissed me.

Hard. Hot. Long. And not just that kiss.

He unzipped my skirt and pulled it down and off along with my panties. We were both naked at that moment and the feel of him so tight against me, his arms around me, one of his knees between mine. Wow. It makes me all hot every time I think about it.

I could feel his dick all stiff against my thigh. So I put my hands on him. Well, at least as much of him as I could get my hands around. He groaned. The pleasure of knowing that he was enjoying this just as I was became a bit too much and I suggested he find a condom.

Thank goodness he came prepared because I think that at that moment something as insignificant as not having protection would not have mattered.

I mentioned how I still remember that night very clearly. Well, the moments that passed as he put on the condom. And bent over me. And put the head of his dick against me. And pushed. And pushed. Until he was flush against me. I think I will remember them until the day I die.

I must have cried out or something because he stopped and looked down at me. He had this half-crazed look in his eyes. I grinned. He grinned back. The rest was a blur. He was moving in and out of me. Slow and fast. Hard and mind-blowingly tender. We might have spent hours in the darkness fucking on some stranger's bed. Or it might have been less. I lost all track of time. His mouth was busy on my neck, his hands were skating along my sweat-slicked skin, and he was inside me.

And then it happened. The crazy wanting and needing that had been building inside me built up into a tight ball of getting and burst.

The poor guy probably had scratches on his back for weeks. As I came, my nails digging into his flesh, I felt him stiffen and join me in the ecstasy. It was amazingly awesome. He collapsed on the bed beside me and pulled me close.

I probably dozed off. When I woke up later he was gone and so were his clothes.

There was a little piece of paper clenched in my hand. It said "Thank you. J.R.A."

That's how I know it was him.