College Dream Girl - Sex Stories

College Dream Girl

... that from so many students. Really, you can’t measure yourself based on something as abstract as one grade in one class. Maybe, if you want to be content with yourself, you need to learn to be happy with yourself as you are and not based on how others measure you.” She straightened in her chair and this time when she looked at me, her gaze met mine. She said, “Thank you. I think I needed to hear someone say that. I wonder why none of my friends couldn’t have told me that sooner? Apparently I needed to hear it from a stranger.” “Oh. I mean, I know who you are.” She picked up her essay again and avoided my gaze while she asked, “Have we met before?” “No, but… Y-you’re really pretty.” Slowly, she put the paper down and stared at me. Her blue eyes blankly looked over my body and a moment later, they held a mischievous glint. When I had walked in, her brows had been slanted with anxiety and her shoulders had drooped while she sat. Now, she sat straighter and a small smile spread across her face. I watched the look of worry fade and her expression changed to something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. She stood from the desk and said, “Say that again.” “I’m sorry. I sh-” “Repeat yourself. Exactly. Say it again.” “You’re pretty.” She walked out from behind the desk and towards me. My eyes widened as she walked right to me and kept walking past me. She closed the door to the classroom and turned around, her mischievous smile back in place. “Good. Say it again.” I swallowed, unsure ...

... of what was happening. Was this some kind of prank? Her voice deepened as she commanded me, “I told you to say it again.” “You’re pretty.” “What about me is pretty?” I had spent long nights thinking about her long legs that curved up and flared at her hips. Now that she was in front of me, my eyes gobbled up her tight jeans and my gaze roved over her full, rounded breasts under her long sleeved shirt. Her entire outfit fit perfectly to her body, but her best treasure was the sparkling, jewel blue of her eyes. I said, “Everything about you is pretty.” “Everything?” “Everything.” She turned in a circle for me to take in every beautiful angle of her and I sucked in a breath as she tossed her long, blond hair over her shoulder. She asked, “How about now? Is everything about me still pretty?” “Yes.” “Hm.” She unbuttoned her pants and wiggled her perfect hips while she shimmied out of the tight jeans. I stood, mouth agape, as she tossed her jeans over a desk. Her eyes glinted as she gave me a naughty look and pulled off her tight shirt. She stood in her bra and panties and asked me, “Am I still pretty?” “God, yes.” “Good. Now take yours off.” I hesitated for a moment. Some small part of my mind was worried this was a trap. For barely a second, it flitted through my mind that this was a bad idea. As my eyes took in the glorious skin of her stomach and legs, my mind registered that a woman in a state of undress had asked me to take my pants off. What on earth was I waiting for? In the ...