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College wasn't what I expected. Because, I didn't date or anything in high school, I spent a lot of time studying. What I'm trying to say is that I thought college was relatively easy.

The other thing that happened that summer was that I started to grow. I was now 5'7" tall, and I had real breasts. 34C. I was so proud of them and even though Mr. Jansen wanted my pussy and I let him have it, I always took off my blouse and bra. Of course, I needed to wear a bra now.

He told me how beautiful they were and he played with them. Other than what his tongue did, I thought it was the greatest thing.

The other thing that happened is that by the end of the summer, I had a lot of hair where women generally have hair. I needed to shave my legs every three days, and especially that summer going to the beach, I had to do some trimming down there. Mr. Jansen never said all that hair got in the way of his tongue: he just ate and ate.

There was disappointments in college. Guys asked me for dates, and when it got time for romance, they were anxious to fuck me. I would have too, except, "Bobby (or whatever his name was), you can fuck me, but my pussy needs your tongue before it's ready for your cock."

Those Bobby college boys either didn't want to or didn't know how. Mr. Jansen was right.

When I went home at the end of the year, I was still a virgin and my pussy hadn't felt the joy of a tongue since last summer with Mr. Jansen. That's not exactly true, my pussy hadn't felt the joy of a satisfactory tongue like Mr. Jansen's. Those college boys who tried didn't have any idea how to eat pussy.

I called him as soon as I got home. He agreed to meet me for coffee at Starbucks. I didn't want coffee; I wanted his tongue to make love to my pussy. Of course, he had a standing offer to fuck me; to take my virginity. It didn't happen. While I was away at college, Mr. Jansen met a woman his age and now she lived with him.

I begged. I told him that he was the last man to have anything to do with my pussy. I told him it was all his, including my virginity. It didn't help.

I cried myself to sleep for a week. If the summer after my senior year in high school had been the best summer ever, then this summer was the worst.

There were dates, but nothing but duds. When I was packing to go back to college, I vowed to lose my virginity by Christmas vacation.

Just a few days before I was to leave, I got a call from Mr. Jansen. My heart skipped a beat; my panties were damp. "Harry, let's meet for coffee."

Just like at the beginning of summer, I didn't want coffee. Maybe he broke up with that woman; maybe he wanted to see me and we'd get a hotel room. I had some money saved. I couldn't think of a better way to spend it.

That's not what happened. "Harry, are you still a virgin?"

"Sadly, yes. Mr. Jansen, you know it's yours."

"No, no, but I do have more advice for you."

"Your last advice has led to me still being a virgin," I complained.

"You convinced me, or rather seduced me, because of your virginity, but at my age, to be honest it was the lure of the taste of your young sweet pussy that attracted me."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm suggesting that you might be barking up the wrong tree with college guys. . . "

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