Seducing? Or Seduced?

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A lot of this story will seem very strange or even quaint to those of you in your twenties or thirties because it takes place in 1970 when no one had ever heard of smart phones or tablet computers. I had just returned home after final exams. My first year of college was pretty typical for that era. I had done the usual number of fraternity parties, smoked a modest amount of marijuana, groped the appropriate number of coeds, and had had sex with three of them.

Although my parents were upper middle class there wasn’t much money to throw around. I was the fifth of six children, my sister Jill was a senior at a a nearby state college affectionately referred to as Slimy Pebble State, and our brother Henry was in his second year of graduate school on the other side of the country.

Jill was the head resident advisor in a girl’s dorm. She had to stay a couple days later than final exams to finish up responsibilities. Mom sent me to pick her up and bring her home. (See what I mean about quaint? Both of my parents had cars, but only my two oldest siblings who were out on their own did. The other four of us took turns borrowing Mom’s car.)

I got to Jill’s campus about noon. In those days, “men” (as we were called) were not usually allowed in “girls'” (as they were called) dormitories. But Jill brought me into her room because the campus was empty. She was supposed to be ready to leave when I got there, but apologized to me saying that she had to finish typing one last paper she had gotten an extension on. She assured me it would only take about an hour. Jill was a good sister and I had nowhere else to be so I plopped down on her bed to wait for her.

Her room was twice as large than the usual dorm room. It was L shaped with the single bed just inside and beside the door. Unlike the other girls who shared one in the hall She had a private bathroom. Her desk, with its manual typewriter was off to one side in front of a window. As an RA she had saved up enough money to buy a small black and white portable television, a luxury in those days for a college student. There was no cable of course, just rabbit ears, and just three networks. I watched the local newscast as she began banging away at the typewriter.

At 12:30 the door to her room opened without knock, and in walked her friend Alice. I had met Alice once before when Jill had brought her home at Thanksgiving. Alice was also a senior, and also an RA. She was one of those bubbly little cheerleader sorts. Perhaps she was 4’11, but that might be generous. She had a thoroughly delightful and firmly packed little body. Finely toned by gymnastics and modern dance. Her hair was red and cut just escort bostancı about shoulder length. She was surprised to see me lying on Jill’s bed. “Oh, I wanted to watch my stories.”

For the uninitiated, stories were soap operas. Apparently, this was a daily thing, Alice came to Jill’s room to watch soaps. There was nothing else on in the weekday afternoons. I was quick to say, I didn’t mind as long as Jill could give me something to read while I waited.

Jill said that there was a paperback in the book rack above my head but other than that, all she had were textbooks. Alice handed it to me, it was a romance novel, but it was better than her Advanced Calculus for Business Majors.

The only place to comfortably watch television or to read was the bed. Alice said, “Slide over.” She lay face down beside me with her head at the foot of the bed. I was sitting up against the head board so my hips were almost at the head of the bed. Her feet were beside my knees, and my much longer legs almost reached her hips. There was a gap of about four inches between us. Jill was banging away at the typewriter.

Jill’s book was very much of a chick book. A few decades later romance novels became racy with explicit sex scenes, but in those more innocent days, sex was only implied with strong arms wrapped around slender women while passionate kisses were exchanged with no mention of tongues. I quickly lost interest in the book. Instead I focused my attention on the lovely rounded ass just a few feet away from. Alice was wearing cut off denim shorts and a sleeveless blouse. Her shorts almost came down to her knees. They were very tight, and she did a wondrous job of filling them.

In the commercials, Alice and I chatted. She would be taking a train home the next morning. Her family lived about 500 miles away. She was engaged to be married in June and then she and her fiancé would move to Chicago where he had been offered an associates position with an accounting firm.

When the second soap opera ended, I asked Jill how much longer she would be. (The hour had already stretched to an hour and half.) She promised she only had her footnotes and bib to do, so it would be pretty soon. My sister is pretty smart and a good typist, but typing footnotes and bibliography using a manual typewriter was an onerous and difficult task. I knew it was going to be at least another hour.

Idly, almost without thought, I began tracing little circles on Alice’s lower leg. At first it wasn’t sexual at all, I was touching clear down at her ankle. I was thinking about how pretty her tiny little feet were. She jumped, when I ran one finger down ümraniye escort over the instep. She looked back over her shoulder at me with a mischievous smile, but she didn’t say anything. Jill kept banging away at the typewriter.

Alice moved the leg I was touching over that four inch gap between us so that it touched me.

Now running through my mind, were some of the rules of the day. Alice was a graduating senior. I was scarcely out of my first year final exams. She was way out my league. We had really never exchanged more than ten words prior to that afternoon. And on top of that, she was engaged to be married. Then, there was my sister sitting just a few feet away, albeit with her back to us, banging away at the typewriter.

I leaned forward a little so I could reach higher on Alice’s calf. If Jill had turned around she wouldn’t have been able to see my hand, the bed was half behind the L in the wall. Only my feet and the upper half of Alice’s body would have been in her line of sight. After a minute or two of light caresses there, Alice looked back at me again, gave me that same mischievous smile, and wiggled back closer to me.

Hmmm, this was getting interesting. I could easily reach up to about the middle of her thigh now. But there was that matter of the denim shorts. Denim is actually a very tactile fabric. It has nice touch to it, especially when it stretched very tightly. I was enjoying running my hands lightly, fingers just almost touching her leg. Alice’s toes curled. She was doing a little bit of squirming on the bed. Jill was banging away on the typewriter.

I took a risk. Leaning forward I gave her ass a little squeeze. She gave it an enticing wiggle. I slipped my fingers in her hip pocket and tugged. She took the hint and squirmed still further in my direction. All but the upper part of her torso was now concealed if Jill turned around.

I caressed her ass for a few more minutes until she again smiled back at me and parted her thighs. My momma didn’t raise no fools, I knew where she wanted to be touched. And I obliged. There was little bit of a wet spot showing through the denim between her legs. I slipped my hand palm up against her pussy.

I could really only guess where her clit was. But I used the coarseness of the seam in the denim shorts to rub against where it should be. She immediately caught her breath. Fortunately there was a TV commercial on that was loud enough to cover the noise. I could see her hand gripping the blanket on the bed. I repeated the back and forth several times. She stuck her fist in her mouth to keep from crying out. This went on for about five minutes. She wasn’t kartal escort bayan watching the television at all. Her face was buried into the mattress. Her hips were lifting up and down as she dry humped my hand.

Suddenly, she jumped out of bed. Her face was flushed red, and she said to Jill and I, “I’ve got some potato chips, I will be right back.” She ran out of the room.

I guessed I had gone about as far as I could go with this. She was probably drawing a line that wasn’t going to be crossed. But it had already been fun. Jill kept on banging away at the typewriter.

A moment later, Alice returned. She was carrying a bag of Wise potato chips. The blush was gone from her face. And the denim shorts were too. She was wearing the tiniest, shortest denim skirt I had ever seen. It barely covered her butt when she was standing up. She winked at me, and then climbed back into bed, still closer to my reach. There is no doubt that this was a very clear invitation to the next stage. She wrinkled the bag of chips so they made noise, and asked if either Jill or I wanted any. Not only did the skirt make her more accessible to my touch, but she could use the noisy bag to cover up other noises.

Again her thighs were parted. I could see the standard issue white cotton panties of the day. They were positively soaked to my touch. Her pussy was outlined through the wet material. I began tracing around it with the fingertips of my left hand. I slid my right hand up under her skirt to caress her ass. I was a little surprised that she lifted her midsection off the bed so I could pull her panties down to mid thigh. Jill was still banging away at the typewriter, but it seemed to be pausing, then hurrying again.

The smell of her pussy juices rose up to me as I sunk the middle finger of my left hand into her. I could feel the muscles within her pussy squeezing. With my thumb I stroked her clit. She began to make little tiny mewing noises. Her hips were grinding into my hand. With my right hand I separated the cheeks of her butt and touched the puckered rose hidden there. She began to orgasm. She could no longer stifle her gasps. I heard Jill’s typing come to a stop.

Alice had not yet finished climaxing when Jill spoke. “You owe my little brother. Take him back to your room and finish it there!”

She did.

I will tell the rest of this story another day. But I will make two final comments.

Two hours later Jill was banging on Alice’s locked door to tell me she was ready to go home. We let her bang away for a few minutes.

When Alice got married a month later, Jill was in the wedding. She had just broken up with her boyfriend that week and I agreed to be her last minute stand in escort. Alice began laughing nervously when she saw me. Just before exchanging vows with her husband-to-be she looked out over the church to catch my eye and wink with that delicious mischievous smile on her face.

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