Good walls make good neighbors, Part 3 - Sex Stories

Good walls make good neighbors, Part 3

... and I had to give it up bit by bit like a good little girl going to the bad...but not so bad she takes the lead. Well, I wasn’t interested in trying that. I’d seduced my roommate, you know? I guess it’s the same for a girl as a guy, once you’ve seduced a woman you’ve grown up in a certain way, and there’s no going back. I’d had a deep sexual relationship with another person and I was used to giving and getting what I wanted, tit for tat, or rather tit for twat.” I groaned, “You’ve just been saving up that pun for years , haven’t you? That was painful.” She grinned, “That’s a rumor I can neither confirm nor deny. But yeah, it made Connie groan too.” We laughed and she continued, “Now, I suppose it’s not hard for a young woman to get sex reasonably easily from any man she chooses, even if she’s not a supermodel with the best tits in the world. And since I am a supermodel with the best tits in the world, I should have been set.” “Ha ha. And I’m a millionaire.” “In disguise, yeah, and you don’t even know how much money you have, because your accountant’s robbing you blind and buying his own private island in international waters, and when his mansion’s built, it’s buh-bye him, hello welfare office for you.” I said, "I'm sorry I told you that story." We laughed a full minute and she continued, “All joking aside, I’m easy on the eyes. Guys liked looking at me, but they were either too afraid to talk to me or too nervous to talk to me like I was an actual human being. “Now, there ...

... had been another young man that previous summer, after Dumb-Ass’s fifth lame entry into heaven. He’d had a crush on me for a while and I let him take me out, and when he had started kissing me I kissed back and let him suck on my breasts, and finally I’d decided I didn’t want to fuck him, so I jerked him off. That happened three times, and I never could see him as a proper partner. He did rub me off in return the last two times, but it felt like it was out of a sense of duty. So no, I didn’t bother calling him up. “So, yeah. I was wet as hell yet high and dry, and I was surrounded by a bunch of hairy little boys, it felt like. I was not a happy young thing, I assure you. No need to go into that any more, you get the picture.” “Yeah.” “So, what finally ended my state of disgust and loathing?, I hear you ask.” “I didn’t say anything.” “Yes you did, I distinctly saw it in your eyes.” We laughed and she continued, “The short answer is dill tie .” “Dill tie.” “Dill tie.” “What the hell is a dill tie? Is it like a dill pickle? Did you get funky with your food?” She giggled and waved me aside, “Not what, who. German historian, Wilhelm Dilthey. He’s famous in history; no one else has ever heard of him. One of those long-winded 19th century guys who wrote endlessly about the philosophy of history. I already knew I wanted to be an historian, and my teacher in school gave me lots of extra reading assignments of historians writing about how you do history." She finished her first serving. ...