One Tuesday night during the week of mid-terms, my girlfriend, Rena, and I were taking advantage of my roommate being stuck in a long evening lab session to enjoy a nice, leisurely fuck. Rena was on her hands and knees on my bed, her head down in my pillow, while I moved in and out of her from behind in a slow doggy-style. I was getting close to coming, and had just started to pick up my pace, when someone knocked on my door. I froze for a moment, but Rena reached back for me and moaned into the pillow, “Tom, don’t stop. Fuck me, baby.” I held still for another moment, but then went back to paying attention to her pussy. Just as I started pushing my cock deeper into her again, the knock at the door came again, a little louder and faster this time.

Through the door, I heard Sandra’s voice, almost sobbing. “Tom,” she half-cried, half-moaned, “are you in there? I really need to talk!”

Even through the door, I could tell that something was wrong, and I pulled my cock out of Rena and turned toward the door. I started grabbing for my sweats and called out, “Yeah, Sandra, hang on just a sec!”

Rena sat up and spun around on the bed, suddenly furious. “Who’s Sandra?!?” she shouted. “Doesn’t matter. Tell the bitch to go away!” I was a little shocked at how suddenly she had changed moods again, but as I pulled on my sweats and tucked my still-hard cock inside, she changed her tone yet again. “You know, it doesn’t matter. You go to your little bitch if she’s so important. I’m done!” And before I knew it, Rena had pulled on her pants and a sweatshirt, stormed to the door, and pushed past Sandra. I stood there in the middle of the room, wearing nothing but a loose fitting pair of sweat pants and a shocked expression, with my friend crying in my doorway, and pretty sure that I’d just lost my girlfriend.

As the sound of Rena’s footsteps faded down the hallway, I became aware again of Sandra’s now somewhat subdued crying. I turned to her, still a little stunned by Rena’s blow-up, and said, “Sandra, I’m sorry, I—”

“No, I’m sorry, Tom,” she cut me off. “I didn’t know what I was interrupting.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” I lied, badly, “we were just studying.”

Then Sandra’s crying turned to a half-laugh, half-giggle. She pointed at my still-persistent hard-on tenting my sweats and said, “Yeah, I can see that.” That pretty much killed the hard-on, and my cock quickly deflated.

“Okay,” I said, “yeah, we were, um, busy. But it’s okay. Come on in, what’s wrong?”

That snapped Sandra back to the reality that had brought her, crying, to my door in the first place. “Tom,” she said as she walked in, “I’m screwed. I’m flunking two of my classes, and I blew my first three midterms this week, and if I can’t get my grades up they’re gonna kick me out and I have to go home!”

I wasn’t sure what to say beyond a trite “it’ll be okay,” so I just put a hand on her shoulder and listened.

She explained that she’d been falling behind in her linguistics and literature classes, and both those and her algebra midterm exams had gone rather poorly. On top of that, she had also been called into her academic advisor’s office the week before for a “pre-probationary” chat, and she’d let the whole thing slip to her sister, who of course passed the information along to their parents. So all in all, Sandra was in a bit of a jam. It was pretty obvious she needed some tutoring help along with a shoulder to cry on, too.

I took advantage of a pause in her unloading to jump in. “You know, I get it. And I want to help. But not here.” Sandra looked back at me, not sure what I was suggesting. Then I asked, “Would you let me buy you a cup of coffee over at the coffee shop over on G street?”

She started to object, but I stopped her. “I know we need to take care of your classes, but right now I think you just need to get away from here. When was the last time you got off campus?”

“About three weeks,” she answered.

“Then why don’t I get dressed, and we’ll walk over to the coffee shop. It’s a warm night, perfect for a walk. And I think you need a little break.”

“Okay,” she said, a little hesitantly.

“Okay, great. But, um, I need you to turn around.” I grinned at her with my thumbs hooked in the waist band of my sweats.

“Oh, sure,” she said, and quickly turned her back.

I grabbed some jeans and a shirt, slipped them on quickly, then stuffed my wallet into my back pocket and said, “Okay, let’s go.” I opened the door again and took Sandra by the hand, leading her out into the hallway.

When we got to the coffee shop, we sat down at a table and just started talking. Sandra told me more about the trouble’s she’d been having with her classes. I told her that I’d been having a bit of a hard time this semester too, but that it was probably self-inflicted due to my being more preoccupied with my relationship with Rena. I admitted that when she’d come knocking on my door, she had interrupted us “in the act,” but said it was okay, because it was probably only a matter of time before Rena found another reason to break things off with me anyway. Sandra told me about some problems her mom and dad had been having for a couple years, and that her sister probably told them about her academic troubles to deflect some of the anger away from her. The coffee kept coming, but was really secondary to the conversation. We just sat and talked until almost midnight, when even the coffee wasn’t working too well to keep our eyes open. Finally, I paid our small check and left a decent tip for taking up a table for so long, and we started walking back to campus.

Just like we’d done at the beginning of the semester, I walked Sandra back to her room. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but we held hands the whole way back. I told Sandra I had a midterm in the morning, but that I’d stop by before lunch to start helping her with some catch-up studying. I turned to go, but Sandra stopped me, and before releasing my hand, she reached up and gave me a little kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks for tonight, Tom,” she said. “You were really sweet to me tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

—

The next day I finished up my test as quick as I could, then hurried over to Sandra’s dorm room. Her roommate was still out at one of her midterms, so we sat down on the floor and started looking over the course work she was having the most trouble with. Like the previous night, I didn’t do too much talking, but mostly just listened to what Sandra was saying. I wanted to hear what was frustrating her the most, so I might have a clue about where to start working with her. From what I could tell, she was having trouble with the same part of her linguistics course that I stumbled over the year before, and literature was just a matter of having fallen behind in the massive amounts of assigned reading.

We talked about study habits, the distractions of a roommate, and started scribbling down a plan for how to get her caught up in her classes. And before we realized the time had passed, her roommate, Naomi came home. Suddenly, we realized it was nearly four o’clock, and I knew I’d missed my afternoon exam. I didn’t say anything about that to Sandra as we traded introductions with Naomi. Then I headed back over to my own room.

Sandra and I started spending more and more time together over the next few weeks. My grades continued to slip a little while my attention was on helping her, but I managed to keep things in the “B” and “C” range for the most part. I got to know Naomi a little better and found out that she wasn’t quite so horrible and weird as Sandra had let on; she was more of an 80’s throwback to the hippie days of our parents, who obviously had an appreciation for The Beatles, Eastern religion, and the pharmaceuticals that had nearly kept me out of college in the first place. But all in all, she wasn’t horrible, just not the best match for Sandra.

Slowly, we started getting Sandra caught up in her classes and on a little better footing academically.

—

After a few more weeks, the week of Thanksgiving rolled around. The campus shut down for the week, and the place pretty much became a ghost town. I was all set to fly home Tuesday morning to spend the week with my parents, until I called home Monday afternoon to double-check all the arrangements. As soon as my dad picked up the phone, I could tell something was wrong. His voice sounded tense, and I was pretty sure I could hear my mom crying in the background.

My dad explained that just a couple hours before, they’d received a call from my grandmother. She had just heard back from her doctor with a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. They were on their way to the airport to fly out to Nebraska to be with my grandmother for Thanksgiving, and they’d tried to work out a different flight arrangement for me with the airline, but because of the rinky-dink little airport near the college, there wasn’t any way for me to meet up with them. So, it looked like I was going to get to spend Thanksgiving stranded in my dorm room. My dad apologized, and said that he would call the bank as soon as they opened up Tuesday morning to have them transfer some extra money into my account to cover food for the week, and that they’d try to call me as soon as they knew anything more specific about my grandmother.

And then we hung up the phone, and I walked back to my room to figure out what I was going to do for a week in a ghost town.

I read a little bit to catch up on my own studies, but that seemed rather pointless on a Sunday afternoon with no classes for a week, so I threw on a light jacket and started walking to the coffee shop. I figured I’d at least get a hot cup of coffee and a sandwich, and then figure things out from there.

—

I was sitting alone at a table in the café, with my back to the door, eating a small sandwich, when I heard the jingle of the bell as someone opened the door. Not thinking any more of it than that, I took a big bit of the sandwich when I heard Sandra’s familiar voice exclaim, “No way! Tom, what are you doing here?”

I spun around, and sure enough, it was Sandra. She was supposed to have flown out earlier that morning to go back home with her own family for Thanksgiving. I was confused, but thrilled to see her at the same time. Then I saw the red rims around her eyes, and knew that she’d been crying again. “My folks had to leave for a family emergency, so I’m stuck here for the week.”

“Oh, no! What happened?” Sandra asked.

“My grandma’s pretty sick, I guess, so they’re flying out to be with her, and they couldn’t work my flight to get me there.”

“Oh, Tom,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”

I offered her a chair, and when she sat down, said, “Okay, my turn now. What about you? Why are you here instead of on a plane?”

Sandra just sat there, quietly, for a few minutes. I could see that she was fighting back tears, but there was something else in her eyes this time. Something that looked almost like anger. For a long few minutes, she continued just sitting there, not saying anything. Eventually, I figured maybe she needed a reminder that we were sharing a table. I reached under the table with my foot and kicked her chair.

“Hey! Remember me?”

“Oh, sorry, Tom,” she said, still somewhat distracted. “It’s just, my dad called this morning and told me not to come home this week because he and my mom are getting a divorce.”

“Wow, that sucks.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.

After that our conversation went back to stalled. I tried eating a little more of my sandwich, but I’d lost my appetite. After a while I wrapped up what was left and paid. Then I looked across the table at Sandra and said, “Well, looks like we’ve got a week. Wanna go for a walk?”

She sighed, stood up, and said, “Yeah, let’s go.”

We wandered back over to the campus and just walked around for a while. We didn’t say much, but occasionally one of us would offer up how bad the Thanksgiving week was going to suck, and the other would agree. We walked down to the botany department’s arboretum, where most of the trees had already dropped their leaves. Then we wandered over by the sports fields. I was never sure when it happened, but I realized when we made it back over to the dorm area, that somewhere along the way we had started holding hands again.

When we got to my building we stopped outside the first floor entrance, but neither of us let go of the other’s hand. We just stood there like that for a while, not saying anything. Eventually, I looked toward the door and said, “Well, this is where I get off.”

Sandra chuckled and said, “Yeah, I guess so.” But still, neither of us made an actual move to separate.

It was starting to get chilly, though, and I said so. Then I added, “Do you, um,” wanna come up and hang out for a bit?”

Sandra nodded, and we went inside and headed up the stairs, still holding hands. When we got to my room I opened the door and we went in. We finally release each other’s hands, and took off our jackets. But the room was cold, so I turned on a little space heater I kept under my desk, and pulled it out closer to the middle of the room. Sandra sat down on my bed while I tossed our jackets over on my roommate’s bed.

After tossing our jackets aside, instead of sitting on my desk chair or grabbing a spot on the floor like I normally did when we spent time in one of our rooms, I walked over to my bed and sat down next to Sandra. We held hands again, and just sat there together for a long time. At some point we must have laid down, because I woke up later in the darkened room, with my back pressed up against the wall, and my front pressed up against…Sandra! The space heater was still running over by my desk, and the room was quite warm.

Without moving, and as my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering in through the window from a sidewalk lamp outside, I realized that we were lying together on my bed, spooning. I shifted my attention and one hand lower, just to confirm, but we were both still fully dressed. We must have just drifted off to sleep like that at some point. In my shifting, I must have disturbed Sandra a little, because she mumbled something and shifted herself back into me further, pressing her butt against my crotch.

I was suddenly very awake, and was very aware of Sandra’s warmth, even in the too-warm room, and the soft scent of the perfume I hadn’t noticed on her before. And almost as suddenly, I realized that this felt right. It wasn’t the feeling of “I want to fuck this girl” that I’d come to know over the past year or so. And strangely, it wasn’t the feeling of wanting a familiar face from home. It was just that lying there, in the dim light, with this beautiful girl with whom I’d spent so much time over the past month, and with whom I very much enjoyed spending that time, and holding hands, and sitting quietly, and studying, and walking with, and talking about our shitty circumstances, and—it just felt…right.

And after that realization settled in, I became aware again of the pressure and warmth of Sandra’s rear nestled against my crotch, and my cock sprang to life as if to agree with me that the whole situation was…right.

I shifted my weight a little, but kept contact with Sandra, and started gently stroking from her neck, down her shoulder, and along her side until my hand reached her hip. Then I retraced the journey, enjoying the small shudder she gave in her sleep when I hit a particularly ticklish spot. When my fingers made it back up to her neck again, I traced lightly around her ear, then started back down the same path again. I leaned my face down and over to breathe in the perfumed scent of her neck and the hair on the back of her neck, and that was when I realized she was no longer sleeping.

“That feels nice, Tom,” she whispered. I froze momentarily, but she reassured me. “I like the way your fingers feel, going up and down like that. Keep going, it’s okay.”

I bent back down to her neck again, and nuzzled my face in her hair to find the nape of her neck, and kissed her lightly. Then I sent my fingers tracing their pathway down her side again. I wasn’t sure why, but I was suddenly nervous, lying there in the dark stroking up and down Sandra’s side. Sensing my hesitation, Sandra said again, “It’s okay,” and caught my hand as it passed her stomach. She gently pulled my arm around her and led me to the beginning of the swell of her breast.

With so many of the other girls I’d slept with over the past year, and invitation like that would have sent me to tearing off both their clothes and my own. But something was different this time. This time I wanted to move slowly, to savor every nuance, every little touch. And I wanted to know that it was more than “okay.”

“Sandra,” I started, still lying very still behind her, with my hand cupped under her breast and my hard-on pressed noticeably between us. “I want you. I want to make love to you.” Make love? I’d never called it that! With all the other girls, we’d always just got right down to fucking. Make love? I continued, “But I only want to if it’s what you want.” Then I stopped, and waited, and breathed in the scent of her hair again, and kissed the back of her neck gently.

After a long moment, Sandra pulled away from me. The sudden space between us felt very cold, even in the warm room. But then she rolled to her other side so we were face to face. “Tom, I want you to make love to me,” she said. “I want to make love with you. I didn’t realize before today,” she said, “but I think I’ve wanted you for a very long time, ever since I moved up here.”

We kissed then, for a long time. Not the frenzied kissing and making out I’d done with so many other girls. But slow, gentle, loving kissing. I kissed her lips, and parted my own to sneak my tongue out to explore the shape and taste and feel of hers. She responded in kind, and our tongues danced lightly around each other. I raised myself up on one elbow and looked down at her, with her long blonde hair spilled over my pillow, then I bent down and kissed her again.

This time, as our lips and our tongues played against one another, I started caressing Sandra’s body again. A little more forcefully this time. No, “forcefully” isn’t the right word. This time my movements were more intentional, but still gentle. I stroked up and down her side, letting my hand glide over her breasts through her clothing. And after a while like that, Sandra started running her hands up and down my back, beginning to explore my body as I was hers.

After some minutes spent like that, just kissing and letting our hands explore one another, I broke our kiss and raised myself up on my elbow a little further this time. With my other hand, I began releasing the buttons down the front of Sandra’s blouse, leaning down to kiss first her lips, then her chin, and her neck, and then following the unfastening of the buttons to kiss down her chest, between her breasts, and down her stomach, until her blouse was completely open all the way down. I pushed the light material back off her shoulders, and Sandra sat up to rid herself of it. In the dim light, I could still marvel at the beauty of her breasts, though they remained covered by her lacy bra.

Sandra reached down and pulled the hem of my shirt up and over my head, and I let her help me remove it. We returned to kissing then, once again sitting up on the bed, facing each other this time. There was no rushing, only gentle caressing and kissing. I let my hands wander up and down Sandra’s back, and gently worked my fingers under the material of her bra. Teasingly, I dragged my fingers around, still under the material, to her front, and pulled the lace away and up, over her nipples, baring her breast with the bra still clasped behind her.

With her beautiful breasts exposed, I slowly kissed my way down her neck and chest again, nibbling my way down between her breasts, then lightly licking underneath each one and circling up and over to the top again, avoiding her nipples for the time being. I reached around behind her again and unhooked the clasp of the now loose bra, and when she shrugged it off her shoulders, I stopped for just a moment to admire the beautiful form that was now in my view. Sandra’s breasts looked to be a full c cup. I couldn’t completely see the colors in the dim light, but they appeared to be a pale white, with small pinkish areolae, and small but erect nipples a little larger than pencil erasers.

Seeing her like that, exposing and opening herself for me, I realized I wanted her fully. I leaned in and kissed her lightly but firmly on the lips, and ran one hand down her back while I cupped a breast with my other hand and felt the warm hardness of her nipple in the palm of my hand. Gently, I pushed her back down onto the bed, and then let my hands roam further down, until I found the top of her jeans. I fumbled a little trying to unfasten her jeans, and then Sandra reached down and took over for me. Deftly, she undid the button and the zipper. Then, while she raised her hips up slightly to work the pants down, I raised up to my knees and undid my own. I lost my balance and fell back on the bed next to Sandra, and together, we undressed completely, so that we lay next to each other, completely naked.

I looked over at Sandra, and she smiled back at me. Like so many other times before with other girls, I knew this was the time. I rolled over and moved between her legs, which she spread to welcome me. I moved into position and began pressing the head of my cock in between her pussy lips. I entered her slowly, not out of fear of hurting her, since I knew she had lost her virginity with Micah a long time ago, but rather, because I wanted to savor and enjoy this moment like the others.

I groaned a little as my cock passed into her, and she murmured, almost hummed, a welcoming moan. I enjoyed the feel of her pussy gripping my cock as I slid all the way into her. And once I was buried in her completely, I stayed like that for nearly a minute without moving, just loving the feel of her warm embrace. Then Sandra shifted a little bit, and I began moving out and back into her in a series of long, relaxed strokes. As before, there was no rush, no frenzy. We just rocked our hips together in an easy rhythm, and made love slowly, gently, calmly.

After about ten minutes of gently rocking back and forth, moving in and out of her with long, loving strokes, Sandra suddenly opened her eyes wide. I felt her pussy contract tighter around my cock, and she dug her fingers into my back. I kept going increasing our pace a little bit, even though it was a little harder to move with her tighter grip. As her orgasm subsided, I felt my own starting to build. I moved a little faster still, but kept moving with long, relaxed strokes in and out, until I felt the pressure rising. Then, with one final push, I thrust my cock all the way in to Sandra’s warm, wet pussy, and let my orgasm take over. I held there, still, letting my cock pump what seemed like an endless supply of jets of warm cum, deep into her pussy. Afterward, I pulled out and we rolled over again into a spooning position and fell asleep.

---