The Fresh Man (Pt. 02)

I didn't waste any time getting the cum stains out of my pants. After I made it back to my dorm, grateful not to have to use the fake water balloon fight excuse, I changed into sweatpants and headed to the laundry room for a midnight washing machine utilization. Our college boasted "free laundry access" as an amenity for its students. I wondered how many students really had this as the make-or-break factor in their college decision.

Surprisingly enough, I was not alone in the dingy brick laundry room at midnight. Ralph, another member of the herd, was sitting on top of a dryer waiting for his laundry to cycle through. I tried to disguise the fact that my entire load consisted of a single pair of jeans and one pair of underwear. While at times the herd seemed to share a hive mind, we were secretly curious about the individual habits of our fellow members. I tried to see what Ralph's laundry situation was. His washer did not look overly full either, and I briefly considered asking or volunteering, "Washing off some cum stains too?" I decided against it, and like Ralph, feigned reading a book as we waited in curious silence.

It wasn't just my vow to keep my arrangement with Wendy and Emily secret that kept me quiet. They noted that completion of my "course" would be met with confidence. Perhaps so, but my first lesson didn't exactly raise my confidence level. It's tough to walk through life with your head held high after jizzing your pants. As far as I am aware, there are no support groups for pants-jizzers.

It would be cliché to note that the following week could not pass fast enough. Week 2 would consist of "Touching" with Wendy and Emily. How could I possibly think of anything else? Even when I could give some attention to my classes, everything came back to that night and the curriculum promised to me. Intro to Sociology involved establishing the difference between correlation and causation. Was my boner caused by the memory of last Tuesday, the promise of next Tuesday, or was there just a correlation? I probably would have had a hard-on anyway--I was surrounded by hot college women. The fact that I was getting a hands-on education from two of them, while delightful, was not a direct cause.

Philosophy 101 asked the question, "What is the good?" Others tried to argue that the "good" involved power, money, beauty, peace, righteousness, blah blah blah. Pussy was the ultimate good; everything else was but a means to that end.

Avery had transferred into my History class. I'm confident none of the male members of the class learned a thing about the French and Indian War, but we certainly learned the contour of her legs. I mostly tried to understand why I seemed less interested in her since my Tuesday session.

As the week progressed, another thought occupied my mind: Wendy had said that they selected one virgin every year. So this meant that there were probably at least three other men on campus who were alumni of their course. Who could they be? Clearly, they preferred the socially awkward, but maybe that awkwardness had evaporated after they finished? Were there upperclassmen walking confidently through our campus because of Wendy and Emily? Did they now have girlfriends? Would I be one of them after the course? Or did they fail--either at the Wendy/Emily course or becoming so distracted that they failed out of school? If college was the place to go to think big thoughts and ponder difficult questions, I was certainly in the right place.

I occasionally saw Wendy and Emily around campus. Emily had a habit of showing up behind me unannounced and making some cryptic remark: "Been in any water balloon fights?" or "Studying hard, or getting hard studying?" Wendy would give such a small smile that nobody else would notice, but it made me want to race across campus and jump on top of her. I could not have been more grateful to have been their chosen one, but they were adept at psychological torture. Of course, I jerked off after every brief encounter with them. How could I not? I knew, at least vaguely, what was coming up on Tuesday.

Finally, Tuesday arrived--and with it, a text from Wendy: No jerking off today. We want you ready at 7.

Oh, this was going to be a long, painful day. If walking across campus trying to disguise a cum stain was difficult, going through a day with a hard cock was twice as hard and infinitely more painful. Finally, at precisely 7:00, I arrived at their apartment.

"Our students are always so punctual," Wendy said as she opened the door and let me in. "How are you today, Stephen?"

"Jumping out of my skin with excitement," I admitted. "Good. Glad it's today. Glad to see you two." I motioned toward Emily, who was sitting on the sofa, smiling with what may have been pure seduction.

"Did you follow the rule I texted you?" Wendy asked.

"I did. I was good today."

"Good for you," Emily teased. "Delayed gratification is the best."

What delay were we referring to here? Eighteen years of virginity? A week since I jizzed my pants on top of Wendy? A single day without jerking off?

"Does that mean I'm about to get gratified?" I asked. Or begged.

"More than you even know," Wendy began. "But just sit down next to Emily for now."

I staggered over to the sofa, with no use even trying to disguise my hard-on. I sat, making sure there was a comfortable distance between us.

"Too shy to sit closer to me?" Emily asked sweetly. "We all know that you want us, and what's about to happen. We need to work on your confidence with women." I scooted over until our legs were lightly touching. "Okay, freshman, man up and put your arm around me."

Why did I have to be given permission to do what I was dying to do?

"There," she murmured. "Now that's better."

"So, do you remember what Lesson Two is?" Wendy asked.

"Yes. Touching." Of course I remembered; it was all I'd thought about for the past week.

"And what do you think that will entail?" Emily squeezed my thigh.

"I'm hoping it involves touching you. Both of you."

"Come on, freshman. If you get two things out of this course, one should be confidence. Be specific." Wendy was a ruthless teacher. Those were always the best.

"Touching your bodies. Your breasts. Your... between your legs."

"Pussy! For God's sake, Stephen, just say that you want to touch our pussies," Wendy said.

"I want to touch your pussies." Saying it out loud felt strangely liberating.

"And what else do you think will be covered?" Emily asked.

"Well... if I'm going to touch your pussies... I hope I can see them, too."

"Yes, very good. Men are very visually stimulated," Wendy said, acting as the voice of reason. "You've probably seen pictures online, but if you're going to touch and learn, you need to see the real thing."

"You're still missing one very important part of the lesson," Emily said, sliding her hand over the prominent bulge in my pants.

"You're going to touch me? And see me?" I asked hopefully.

"You got it," said Wendy. "In fact, that's first on tonight's agenda."

"Has any woman ever seen you naked and aroused before?" Emily asked. She knew damn well the answer was no; she was just toying with me.

"No. Definitely not."

As much as I wanted to feel their hands on me, having their eyes on me was terrifying. Would I be too small? Too veiny? Too desperately hard and needy?

"Time to change that," said Wendy. "Stand and strip. All the way. Let's see what you've got."

I stood up, and Wendy sat on the sofa next to Emily to await the show. Okay, Stephen, you can do this. I took my shirt off first. Lightly pudgy, as I knew all too well. Pale, with not much chest hair. I expected giggles, but they just watched and waited. Shoes, socks--okay, that could delay the inevitable. Then my belt. I breathed in. Now my jeans. I pulled them down and kicked them aside. Now it was just my underwear with the massive bulge inside it. I looked at the women, silently checking if they wanted me to continue. They raised their eyebrows as if to ask why I had stopped.

Down came my briefs, allowing my virgin cock to spring free--my pubes on display, my balls nervously tight, and my erection throbbing. I stood frozen.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Wendy asked. No immediate appraisal, no critical commentary on my physique--just an inquiry into my mental state.

"How does it feel to be naked in front of us?" Emily asked.

"Pretty scary. Do I look... okay?"

"You look fine," Wendy said. "Women aren't nearly as visually stimulated as men are. We know what a hard, horny cock looks like. It's really not that big of a deal to us. This is your lesson: get comfortable being naked around women."

I was failing at that, definitely not comfortable. But I wasn't moving, either. Maybe that was how you gain confidence--do something embarrassing long enough until it becomes natural.

"When was the last time you jerked off?" Emily asked.

"Last night around eleven." Somehow, being entirely naked made this admission easier.

"Good. Time for your first touch, then," Wendy said. "Have a seat." She motioned to a plush armchair across from the sofa.

I sat, feeling the soft fabric against my bare skin. Emily reached into a drawer next to the sofa and pulled out a bottle of clear liquid, tossing it to Wendy as she moved toward me. Wendy caught it and squirted a generous amount onto her hand--lube!

I tensed and sat bolt upright as Wendy knelt beside my chair and--holy shit--wrapped her hand around my shaft. The cool lube against my sensitive skin excited me even more, and she slowly moved her hand up and down while looking right into my blown-out eyes.

This was no longer chit-chat or sexy speculation; now there was actual skin in the game. My skin!

Wendy stroked a few more times and then stopped. Thank God this was Wendy. She was beautiful, but unlike Emily, she felt accessible--within the realm of possibility, which made this feel real. Emily was so intimidatingly sexy I might have burst already. Did they know that?

"How does that feel?" Wendy asked.

"Incredible. Oh, wow. Please keep going."

"Is it different than when you do it yourself?" Wendy probed.

"Yes. It's you. It's heaven."

"I mean the feeling itself."

An interesting question. I wished I could think straight. Honestly, it was probably a slightly more awkward stroke than the one I gave myself--tighter, with less length. Purely mechanically, my own hand might have felt better, but this was a woman. It was Wendy. That made it infinitely better.

"It's different," I admitted.

"Show me what you like." She squirted some lube onto my right palm. "Sex involves communicating your desires to your partner. Show me."

I did. I wrapped my hand lightly around my shaft, stroked all the way down to my balls and up to the top, gave the head a subtle twist, and ran a finger up my frenulum.

Wendy moved my hand away and mirrored my exact technique. Wow, she was good. "Better?"

"Y-yes. Very."

"Now look me in the eye."

I did. Her deep, soulful eyes connected with mine as she stroked.

"Keep your eyes on me. A handjob isn't just a fun game; it's communication. What am I communicating to you?" she asked as she expertly stroked me.

"That you like my cock?"

"No."

"That you like... me?"

"Closer."

"I'm gonna... I'm close."

She stopped stroking, maintaining eye contact. "Stephen. I'm communicating that you're worthy of what I'm doing to you. A girl isn't going to just jerk a guy off because she likes his dick. She's telling him something. Say it."

"I... I'm worthy of your hand."

She began stroking again.

"You're letting me know that I'm... ahhh, I'm--oh, fuck!"

I came right then, all over her hand, my pubes, and my belly. Damn, I wished I could have lasted longer, but wow--that didn't just feel good; it transformed me. And exhausted me.

I slumped back in the chair. Emily retrieved some wet wipes and cleaned the semen off my stomach while Wendy wiped her hand clean.

"Good job," Wendy said softly. "You lasted longer than most. And I think you got it." She gently patted my head.

Oh, I definitely got it.

"So, Stephen, guess what happens next?" asked Emily.

"I die and go to heaven?"

Emily laughed. "Your virginity just did. Sort of. Okay, let me ask you this: why do you think we started by giving you a handjob?"

"Because I'm the luckiest man alive?" Shut up, Stephen. They get that you're grateful. There's obviously a method to everything they do. Figure it out. "Wait, I know. To clear my mind for what comes next."

"Very good," said Wendy. "Just like when you jerked off before coming here last week so you'd have a clear mind, I got you off so you could be clear to see, and feel, us."

So that was the lesson. Getting turned on wasn't the hard part. Knowing what to do when it happened was.

On cue, Emily took off her T-shirt, exposing her bra. Then her shorts, leaving her in just her bra and panties. My eyes grew wide. "Emily, you are beautiful."

She was. Perky breasts, long smooth legs, toned and tanned. But also, to my astonishment, human. She wasn't perfect. She had little skin spots here and there, just like I had. Her ribs were evident. There was an occasional crease mark, and I could smell her flesh--it smelled like flesh. Strangely similar to my own naked body. A different key, but the same song: uncovered humanity. I had built her up to be untouchably perfect, but in reality, she was perfectly natural. Beautiful, absolutely, but a fellow human.

"Go ahead, touch me," Emily offered.

I placed my hands on her thighs. I gingerly moved them up toward her panties and down to her knees. Muscular, fit, smooth, real. Then her belly--soft, fleshy, with such a cute little belly button. And her ribs, prominent on her thin frame.

"Want to take my bra off?"

Yes! I reached behind her, fumbling for a clasp. Wendy offered an assist.

Once the bra was off, I cupped a hand over each of her breasts. Oh, how perky, yet soft underneath, with tight, hard nipples.

"That's not because I'm cold," Emily whispered.

Wow, it was me. I made her nipples hard. I could do this. I was worthy.

Still seated, she slid her panties off. Her legs remained together, but I could see a small patch of neatly trimmed fur. This was what I had dreamed of. Here it was, here she was, right in front of me. She looked down at me as I racked up the courage to touch her pubic hair.

"Go ahead, she won't bite," said Wendy.

"That's next week," Emily giggled.

I ran my hand through her hair, connecting to her upper thigh. Then, as if by magic, she spread her legs. My heart nearly stopped. There, directly in front of my face, was the first live pussy I'd ever seen. It was smaller than expected, with multiple folds that opened like petals on a flower. The smell was different--muskier, deeper, more feminine. And moist. Inviting. Excited by my presence.

"Now you may touch," began Wendy. "But be gentle. No poking, don't jam your finger inside her. Pet her. Sweetly. Show her you respect her."

I glanced up as if to confirm with Emily. She nodded her approval. I touched her--her swollen outer skin, then inside her outer fold. I felt my cock get hard again. I touched Emily with two fingers, rubbing gently around her slit. She reached down and spread her lips even wider for me as my cock throbbed harder and my breath hitched. She slid a finger into herself and pulled it out, covered in her slick juices.

I fucking lost it.

I dove straight in, mashing my face into her pussy. My tongue extended, dying to taste her, and then--WHAM!

Before I could taste her, Wendy grabbed me firmly by the shoulders, yanked me backward off Emily, and shoved me down onto the floor.

"What the fuck was that?!" demanded Wendy. "Nobody said you could do that!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," I gasped, almost in tears on the carpet. "I guess... I got too excited. I'm so sorry."

"Yes, apparently," an angry Wendy said. "Learn to control yourself, freshman!"

I looked over at Emily, who had already pulled her panties back on. She looked deeply disappointed. Her T-shirt went on next--no bra--and then her shorts. Fuck. Was my lesson over? Had I failed?

"Apologize," demanded Wendy.

"I'm so sorry. Truly, very sorry."

"To Emily, dumbass."

I turned to face Emily, who glared down at me. "Emily, I'm so sorry that I did that. You trusted me, and I blew it."

"Tell me what you did," Emily demanded.

"I... oh, fuck, I tried to lick your pussy. I didn't have your permission. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. Don't give up on me. I'll be good." I was struggling, desperate, pathetic. I couldn't ruin this.

"Sit on the chair," Emily ordered.

I did, sitting naked, shaking, and still rock-hard.

The two women conferred in low whispers, obviously discussing my fate. They kept looking at my cock, then at my face. It was like sitting outside the principal's office while a conference was being held with your parents.

Finally, Wendy stood. "Do you wish to continue in our course?"

"Yes," I trembled.

"Then you will have to accept our punishment." There was no question who was in charge: they were the teachers; I was their student.

"Yes, anything." God, I'm pathetic.

Wendy grabbed my cock at the base and said, "Follow me."

I tried to walk normally, but it's difficult when you're being led by your hard dick. Wendy guided me down the hall into the back room and released me. "Get on the bed. All fours."

I obeyed like a trained dog. Whose bedroom was this?

Wendy reached her hand back and delivered a sharp SLAP to my rear. A spanking? Was this a kink or a punishment? Then another spank. "Ow!"

"That's not your punishment," snarled Wendy. "I just wanted to spank you."

Oh... good? She likes my ass? I'm so confused.

Then she spread my butt cheeks apart. Oh fuck, I don't like where this is heading.

"Your asshole puckered right up," Wendy noted. "Never had it penetrated before, huh?"

She pressed a finger lightly right against my rim. I cringed, scared to death. A tear rolled down my cheek.

Wendy flipped me onto my back across the mattress. "No, I'm not going to penetrate your virgin ass, Stephen."

Oh, thank God.

"What I am going to do," Emily said, stepping into the room holding a pair of lined steel handcuffs, "is teach you patience."

Handcuffs? Patience? Call me aroused and terrified. She cuffed my hands to the wooden posts at the head of the bed.

"Now, simple rules: if you say 'red,' we stop today's lesson. We'll give you five minutes to get yourself taken care of, get dressed, and then we'll discuss your future in our course. And against my better judgment, we'll even give you one timeout. Say 'yellow' and we'll stop what we're doing for three minutes and you can decide if you want to continue for tonight. Now, frankly, I don't think you deserve a timeout, but if you got what you deserved, you wouldn't be here in the first place, so consider us generous. Understood?"

"Yes," I said shiveringly.

"Emily, he's all yours."

Emily walked to the side of the bed, looking down at my naked, scared body with a mix of pity and lingering anger, and squirted a glob of lube onto her hand. Wait... this doesn't seem like punishment.

She grabbed my cock at its base and began to stroke. Yes! Best punishment ever! I made eye contact, just as Wendy had taught me. Emily stared back, stroking expertly, even cupping my balls. I squirmed, getting close... mmm...

Then she stopped. A dead stop. She didn't break eye contact.

Then she stroked me again, painfully slow. I squirmed, ready to cum. She stopped again, just staring down at me.

"Please," I murmured.

"You know the safe words," she said coolly.

She stroked me more as I pulled on the cuffs and squirmed, then stopped right at the crest. I bucked my hips in the air. She traced a finger over my balls, brought me to the absolute edge again, and stopped. I grimaced, I begged, I tried everything to create friction on my cock. Nothing worked, but I refused to say the word.

She leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Did you like how I tasted?"

"Yes," I said quietly, ashamed.

"Do you want to taste me again?" she whispered. Wendy wasn't in the room. Was she serious?

"Yes!" I blurted, without shame.

She stroked me to the edge. I thought I was going over--and she stopped. "Too bad."

Wendy walked back in, looking down at me--red-faced, squirming, begging, cock twitching. "How's he doing?"

"I think I can break him," said Emily. "Any colors you're thinking about, Stephen?"

"No! Not a single one."

To the edge again. Should I call timeout? No, why prolong the agony.

"You need to learn control," Wendy said, leaning over the bed. "You couldn't control yourself. Now Emily is controlling you."

Again, Emily brought me so fucking close. I kicked and bucked, doing everything except yelling a color.

"Give him ten more minutes," Wendy told Emily. "If he lasts, maybe we'll keep him."

Okay, a finish line.

Emily tickled my balls in between edging strokes. It was absolute torture. Again and again, so fucking close. My cock was bright red, veins throbbing. "Please, Emily, please. I'll never do anything without your permission again!"

No sign of sympathy. She just kept stroking me to the brink and stopping, knowing exactly when to freeze and when to resume. Not even a laugh. Was this worth it? Was there another class I could transfer to? Argh, God dammit!

Wendy returned. Ten minutes must have passed. Would she free me? "Give me a minute alone with him," Wendy said to Emily.

Emily stepped out. Wendy looked down at my pathetic frame. "What did you do wrong?"

"I tried to eat Emily's pussy," I blurted.

She slapped me across the cheek--hard. "Wake the fuck up, freshman! What did you do wrong?"

"Please let me cum..."

SLAP. Another one. I almost screamed "red."

"One more try."

"I... I didn't respect Emily."

Wendy glared at me. No slap. I took that as a good sign.

"Correct." She ran a cold finger down my stomach. "Respect matters, Stephen. Not just with Emily, or me. With all women. We're not your fucking toys. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"Do you understand that, or do you just want to cum?"

"I understand it."

"Emily, come back in. Stephen has something to say to you."

Emily entered and looked down at the wreck she'd made of me.

"Emily, I didn't respect you earlier," I choked out, making eye contact. "I lost control and took advantage of your trust. I am very, truly sorry."

Emily looked at Wendy, and Wendy gave a single nod.

Emily lubed her palm and wrapped it around my shaft. She stroked slowly--agonizingly slowly. I felt myself building to burst all over again.

"Apology accepted," Emily whispered.

She kept stroking as my climax broke over the dam. My balls tightened, and I squirmed with pleasure, crying out with relief as spurts of semen shot out across my stomach and onto Emily's hand.

I went completely limp against the mattress.

Wendy unlocked the handcuffs, handing me a pack of wet wipes. Emily cleaned her hand while I wiped myself down.

"Get dressed and get out of here," Wendy said softly, stepping toward the door. "Next week: Lesson Three. Same time."