I first fucked Karen at the sit-in. I knew I was going
to fuck her. She was a beautiful redhead, nineteen
years old, a nursing student.
I first laid eyes on her in the Mathematics Building—
laid eyes on her ass, that is. Her skintight
bellbottoms beautifully displayed her round, compact,
tight ass. The jeans looked as though they’d been
through the war: each cheek of denim was rubbed light
blue in its center. Well known among my buddies, they
never failed to mention her world-class butt when
listing her assets. There was plenty of time to study
her figure. Sixty of us were together four days now in
the building, sleeping and eating communally, meeting
endlessly. My friends were right: her ass was
remarkable.
You could tell she’d been fucked a lot. She stood
arrogantly, hand on hip, talking to some handsome guy
near the door. Slender as a young teenager, long legs,
nice shoulders, back tapered perfectly to a small
waist. And the hair: red, so long a straight. When she
let it down it ended just where the cleavage started.
And those hips. Bell bottoms were designed for a body
like hers. She turned slightly and I glimpsed a bit of
fine looking tit straining against her snug, gauzy
blouse and guessed her breasts were just the right size
for my mouth. No bra! You could see her nipples. My
cock got hard. Yea, baby! She was a fearless trail
blazer.
The tension and the closeness in the building kept a
high erotic charge going. There was continuous fucking
in dark corners that put me in a high degree of horny.
You could see humping and sucking under blankets and
coats. There were so many willing chicks. But I wanted
Karen most.
She ran from a Southern cracker home when she was
sixteen because her father’s hands, always on her body,
began to roam into intimate spots. Only a matter of
time ’til he’d rape her. She split. She was smart and
knew how to use her body and that got her placed in the
program on scholarship.
Now she was walking in my direction. How very young and
innocent looking! Her walk, and the sway of her hips,
exuded a deep confidence in herself and her body. I
wondered what the cops might do with her. Our eyes meet
briefly and I wasn’t sure I detected anything of me in
them. Then, she was gone. What lingered was the
beautiful sweet scent of patchouli, a scent that made
the growing bulge in my tight jeans finish filling out.
I got off the floor a went looking for the men’s room
so I could relive myself of my erection.
In the hall, there she was again. She looked me in the
eye and said “Hi.” The fragrance of patchouli hit me
again. I felt my cock strain more in my jeans and could
do nothing to disguise it. Besides, why disguise it?
This was liberated territory. He eyes dropped and she
noticed my condition. When she met my gaze again she
was smiling. We started a conversation. I offered her a
joint.
We lit it in a dark unoccupied corner and made
conversation about the war, the sit-in, when the cops
might attack, talked about Huey, Leary, so on. She was
hip to it all and seemed to have a natural political
instinct. As the growing feeling of sexual attraction
built between us the conversation lagged. We gazed into
each other’s eyes and leaned our heads closer. Soon our
lips met and we began fucking each other with our
tongues. Her hand went right to my cock. My fingers
found the spot between her legs and it was already
damp.
All of us hadn’t washed properly in several days so we
both smelled pretty funky. Instead of putting me off,
just the opposite: my cock grew harder, and I laid her
on her back enthralled by her fragile beauty. We dry
humped for quite awhile. We licked and nibbled, rubbed
and squeezed, pressed and pulled, getting each other
hot and ready.
“Your cock is hard,” she whispered into my ear. Then,
“It’s big. I like that!”
There was fucking and sucking going on in the darkness
around us. It was a beautiful liberation. It was
primitive and animalistic. Just the release all of us
needed from the daily grind of being “good,” from the
pressure to succeed and get the right grades, the right
professors, the right recommendations. Just carnal
humping without any pretence. Our young and beautiful
bodies were extra charged because vulnerable and
exposed to danger: the cops were everywhere and ready
with clubs and kicks and gas.
We didn’t have much time. She unbuckled and pushed down
her jeans.
I got her on all fours, the position I liked best. That
way I could get every fraction of my dick into her. So
fucking wet, it slid in like it had been buttered. Oh,
Karen, you little revolutionary cock-sucking communist.
You socialist slut. Its true: the more I fuck the more
I want to revolt. It didn’t take long. I was building
to a huge orgasm. I could feel it deep down at the base
of my cock.
We could hear the uproar grow minute by minute: shouts,
screaming, crashing, breaking glass— a chaos of nasty,
menacing sounds. Rather than deflate my dick the tumult
had the opposite effect. I thrust into her tight cunt
with still more animal energy, hitting her cervix.
Deep, deep into her! How open she was! She pushed back
hard against each thrust, cursing and sweating,
demanding more penetration.
“Deep, you bastard… it’s so hard! Shove it, push
harder! Yes. Pussy! Cock! Shoot your hot come in me
with your huge dick!! Give me your big cock!”
Oh, if your momma could hear you now Karen.
The violence of the confrontation, coming closer now,
unleashed a sexual violence in me I didn’t know I had.
I thought I was a kind and gentle lover. No, not now. I
was violent. I imagined I was raping her, and I liked
it. “Bitch! You fucking cock tease. You slut!” All this
and more came out of my throat.
We were on the floor in wild sexual aggression,
assaulting each other with words, with vile demands,
with scratches and bites, a beautiful pair of wild,
copulating animals.
It was then that I felt it. Pressed against my open
asshole. Cold. Hard. Big. Karen came. And I came too as
he flipped me over, my cock pointing toward the
ceiling, spurting the last two jets of sperm up and
onto my stomach.
As they dragged me away, naked and exhausted, I caught
a glimpse of Karen on her knees, the fat red dick of a
cop stuffed in her mouth.
She never would say if she was forced into it or was
willing. But unlike me she walked away without a
bruise.