Date: Thu, 22 Jan 1998 12:22:07 EST
From: Dianic007 <Dianic007@aol.com>
Subject: Coitus at College

COITUS AT COLLEGE

by

Roberta Angela Dee

        One cannot describe Maguerite Snyder without diminishing the beauty of
the woman.  She is an exquisite example of all that is feminine and yet
strong, assertive and vibrant.  Somehow she combined the qualities of Winnie
Mandela with the delicate and innocent attributes of a child.

        We met one Summer at the State University of New York -- Stony Brook.
She was a junior.  I had transferred there from a two year college and was
also entering my third year.  We were both 22 years old and both very
bisexual.  Ironically, we were placed in the same room together.

        What intrigued me most about Marguerite was her intelligence.  She
could talk about Marx and Engles as though she knew them personally.  Her
knowledge of economics was equally astounding.  Most importantly, she could
express her ideas as brilliant as any scholar.

       Physically, she was tall, about 5-feet, 8-inches and could not have
weight more than 125 pounds -- very frail.  Her eyes were bluish green.  I'm
not certain there's a name for the color of her eyes.  Whatever one would call
them, they were certainly hypnotic.

        She was blonde with beautifully natural highlights.  The manner in
which she tossed her curly frock was a pleasure to behold.

        I didn't know that she was bisexual, and she didn't know that I was
bisexual and transgendered.  I had used a two-year institution to establish my
gender as female.  Actually, I had been born a male.  It wasn't easy to keep
my secret a secret while living with another woman.  Yet, somehow I managed to
do so.

        I was majoring in American literature.  It's part of the reason I was
so fascinated with Marguerite's elegant manner of speech.  I would, however,
have felt some attraction for her even if she had been a mute.

        We were both taking two courses that Summer.  I was attempting to
graduate early and she was making up courses she had not do as well in as she
had expected.

        Stony Brook is a beautiful part of Long Island, and there were always
several activities in which we could engage.  There was the museum, the old
diner, the Long Island Railroad, plenty of book stores, as well as stores
providing rare arts and crafts.  

        Being a college town, there were also plenty of taverns and
restaurants.  We enjoyed each other's company and enjoyed exploring Stony
Brook.

        I kept a diary towards the rear of my desk drawer in the dormitory
room.  One day, I returned from class early and found Marguerite with the
diary in her hand.  I asked what she was doing with it and she immediately
apologized for having removed it from the desk drawer.  She told me she had
been looking for a pencil.  Her pen had run out of ink and she needed
something with which to complete her assignment.  She said that she saw the
diary and, without thinking, opened it.  

        She apologized repeatedly.  I, of course, had no idea how much or how
little she had read.  I knew that if she had read enough, she would know that
I was bi and transgendered.  Since she hadn't mentioned anything pertaining to
my secret, I felt it best to forget the incident.

        Very early the next morning, at about 2:00 AM, I was awakened by
someone caressing my male part.  I turned my head and could see it was
Marguerite.

        "What do you think you're doing?"  I asked, more surprised than angry
or upset.

        "Do you realize that I've been fondling you for at least 5 minutes,"
she replied, "and you haven't become the least bit erect."

        "You read my diary," I began to explaining.  "You should know that I
take female hormones."

        "And that's why your dick doesn't get hard?" she inquired.  "Is that
why you have tits?"

        "Yes, Marguerite," I said, slightly annoyed.  "Do you realize it's
2:00 AM?"

        She continued questioning me.  "But you don't consider yourself to be
a man though.  Do you?" she asked.

        "No.  I don't consider myself a man at all," I replied.  "Now would
you please go back to bed and let me get some sleep.  I have an early class
tomorrow -- or should I say today?"

        "I just think it's so incredible that being a woman is so important to
you that you would take hormones and grow tits and give up being able to get
an erection," she commented.

        "So, how do you cum?" she asked as casually as if she were suggesting
that someone pass the salt shaker.  

        "I cum the same way that you do," I answered.  "Through foreplay and
sometimes through penetration.  Now, will you please go back to your side of
the room.

        "No," she answered.  "I wanna sleep her with you."

         "Why?" I asked.

        "I wanna fuck you," she answered.  "I've never fucked a woman like you
before."

        As I parted my lips to refuse her offer, Marguerite kissed me with
such a passion that -- like a snowflake striking a warm pane of glass -- I
melted.  Every muscle in my body began to submit to her advance and I felt as
though the room was physically moving around me.

       She moved into a sixty-nine position and began licking my anus as
though it were a pussy.  I licked her pussy as well.  She was warm, moist and
emitted an incredibly sensuous fragrance. 

        My tongue moved around her clit exploring it like a miner exploring an
unexplored cave.  I teased her with my lips and kept pushing her closer and
closer, moving her towards the orgasm I knew would be inevitable.  In the
darkness, I could hear her moan.  I could hear her sigh.  No man could ever
emit so sweet a sound.

        I had been with women before, but Marguerite was special.  It seemed
that even before our first kiss, she had decided I was going to be her female.
Nothing about my anatomy would distract her from her focus on my body as being
that of a woman.  

        I, too, fell in love instantly with her aroma, her delicate curves,
and the gentleness of her pubic hairs on my face.  I could have licked her the
entire morning, and it appeared she could have licked me as well. 

       "I knew you were a hot bitch the first day we met," she announced, her
face still between my thighs.

        "Well, now you know for sure," I replied, then we both giggled and
continued savoring each other's delicate and highly aroused love hole.

        For the next hour, we took turns having orgasms.  I had three.  I'm
certain she had at least three.

        She then focused her attention on my breasts.  She kissed and sucked
on one while fondling the other.  Then, she switched -- fondling the other
breast while kissing the one she had previously fondled.

        She said that she had a vibrator and wanted to fuck me.  I told her
she could use mine instead.  Then, I got up and returned to the bed with a
tube of K-Y jelly.  She began fingering me.  Comfortable with one finger, she
then used two.  Eventually, she had all five fingers inside me.  She suggested
fisting me, but I told her that I didn't want to chance it.  She complied.

        "Well, you're more than ready for this vibrator now," she said.

        She moved the head of the vibrator between my lips.  It slid in
easily.  Then, she began to use it like an ivory cock.  She fucked me
furiously, inserting a good five inches each time.  It was more than a
sufficient amount.  About 10 or 12 minutes later, I reach the most incredible
orgasm ever.  She paused briefly.  Then, resumed her activity.  She fucked me
three times, and each time I reached an incredible orgasm.  After the third
orgasm, I was just about lifeless.  We chatted a little while longer, then
both fell to sleep in each other arms.

         We both missed our morning classes.  We even chanced showering
together.

        Marguerite and I repeated our love-making many times over the two
years, even though we both had our share of boy friends.  The boys could never
quite take us to the emotional heights that we could find together.

        Years after we graduated, I searched for Marguerite on the internet
and through various other sources.  I even tried to reach her through the
college alumni.  Unfortunately, I never heard from her again.  Still, she' a
woman I shall never forget.


The End

Comments may be directed to the author at Dianic007@aol.com.

@>~~>~>~~~

(c) 1998 - Roberta Angela Dee