Donna and the Dripping Dick - Sex Stories

Donna and the Dripping Dick

The following is a true story. “Please, please, please let me see it!” Donna chirped. “I promise I won’t tell anyone! I just really want to see a penis!” She was a tiny, perky freshman biology major who wore nerdy pastel clothes and had unfashionably curly hair. I was a junior who lived two doors down from her on the dorm hall. Over the past semester, we’d built up a tight friendship mostly based on our love of weird alternative music. That and sex. We talked a lot about sex. She was a virgin. I wasn’t. She had a crush on a similarly nerdy bio major whose name was Willie Something (can't remember). I had an on-off girlfriend at the nearby all-girls college. Sometimes we’d cuddle or crash out together. One time she showed me a new bra she’d bought that she wanted my opinion on – while she was wearing it. But nothing ever “happened” between us. Then came the Friday night party before Thanksgiving break. Everyone was drinking. Except us. She was “against all that!” while drinking made me queasy. So we headed back to my room. This time the sex talk came fast. “I want to know,” she asked as I opened the door. “What does an erection feel like?” “Haha,” I said. “How can I explain that? You don’t have the equipment.” “No,” she said. “I want to know what it actually feels like. I want to touch it. And see it.” “Oh,” I said, as I put on a CD of a band we both liked called Failure. She went over to my mini-refrigerator, grabbed a can of Dr. Pepper, and sat down with a thud on my foldout ...

... bed/couch. I went to sit next to her. “If I’m going to date I don’t want to be a clueless dork,” she explained. “I wish I could just learn.” I agreed with her, mentioning my experiences with an older woman. I asked if she wanted a Little Debbie Snack Cake, since I’d bought several boxes on sale that day. She declined. “Can I ask you something?” she said. “Would you be willing to show it to me?” “Ummmm…” I started. “Show you mine? Are you serious?” “Yes!” she said, suddenly invigorated by question. &#034That's just what I mean!&#034 I hesitated. She seemed very young. I didn’t want an “incident” on my hands. Then again, we did know each other well. I put the Little Debbie box down and looked at her quizzically. “Please, please, please let me see it!” Donna chirped. “I promise I won’t tell anyone! I just really want to see a penis! I showed you my boobs once, so you owe me!” “You showed me your bra,” I reminded her. “Not your boobs.” “That was see-through!” she said. “You didn’t see? Fine. I’ll take my shirt off now if you pull down your pants.” The thought of bare breasts was too much to refuse, even if she had tiny a-cups. So I agreed. Within minutes, she was topless and my pants were around my ankles with my erect penis dangling awkwardly between my legs. I moved a bit closer to her and kicked off my jeans. She looked at it, smiling, and moved her hand near me. “It’s dripping!” she exclaimed. “Can I touch that? Did you cum?” I explained to her what “pre-cum” was, and how it ...