I guess I always was a “hot Hoosier chick” even though I certainly don’t look like one. Yet I’ve had some unconventional sexual experiences going back to my student days at the University of Indiana. I’m not promiscuous but I will do something out of the ordinary if it seems like a challenge.

By the age of twenty in 2002, I accepted that I was one of the – well, maybe not homely, but surely ordinary girls at the school. I was a bit tall, perhaps, at about five-seven and I had brown hair that I never let grow below my shoulders.

Yet, I had an interest – or fantasy, I’d call it –  of being a cheerleader, as silly as that sounds. Although, I just was not cheerleader material. For one thing, I would have needed to get contact lenses, which I couldn’t abide, to replace my steel-rimmed glasses.

Yet the blatant sexual display of those girls, no matter how retrograde it all was, intrigued me. They would fling themselves around, flashing their black panties under their white and red uniforms. Male cheerleaders (I guess some guys just had that school spirit) would have them stand on their shoulders where the girls would wave their pom-poms around.

For the finale, some would drop down so they were sitting on the guy’s shoulders. Their thighs would grip the back of his head in that position. Hey ladies, it must feel good to have his hair pressed against your crotch.

I was relatively slender back then, so it wasn’t absurd to imagine myself having the athletic ability to do those stunts.

Nevertheless, I never considered trying out for the cheer squad. I doubt they would have taken me anyway.

****

I was on my second boyfriend at the school by the time I was near the end of my sophomore year.

I lived off-campus by then, sharing an apartment with another girl from the school. We worked out deals where each of us could use the place for our own, ah, activities. My boyfriend at the time, Warren, also had an apartment he shared with another guy.

That summer, we were both going to stay in Bloomington for the season. We’d visit our families (Warren’s family lived near Anderson, on the other side of Indianapolis) but we kept our apartments in town. All of central Indiana is surprisingly hot during the summer, so it was just as well that we had places in Bloomington.

Warren was a kind of male “mid-pack” guy in terms of looks in the same way that I was the female version, perhaps. Yet I had a knack for sexual experimentation that caught him by surprise one warm evening in May. It was getting near the end of the semester, and we had been going together for about six months. I happened to be in his apartment, the two of us just hanging out.

I was wearing a skirt that day that ended just above my knees. A window was open, and I decided to bend over the sill and enjoy some of the summery air. As I looked out, I saw out of the corner of my eye that Warren had gotten up and was standing a few feet behind me.

I was feeling frisky, and I said nothing but I slowly waved my backside back and forth. It wasn’t the most voluptuous behind in the world, but I’ve always had a certain pleasing roundness back there.

As I expected, he came up to me and pressed his crotch against my swiveling bottom. He added his own hip movements in rhythm with mine.

For a second I pretended that I didn’t know what was happening. “Now who could that be back there?”

“I think you know quite well.”

I looked back at him. “What you’re doing is quite forward of you. You do have quite a bit of nerve I think.”

“You can always get up if you don’t like it.” He put his hands on my hips and moved my body around as it pleased him.

I laughed. “I know you like it. I can feel how hard you’re getting when you’re against me.” Then an idea struck me, and I can’t remember how I thought of it. Maybe I had been influenced by strippers and dancers who did lap dances for pay at clubs.

I said, “I assume you know what the term ‘frottage’ means?”

He seemed a bit confused, although he shouldn’t have been. “Well, yeah, I think I’ve heard of it.”

I had already worked out the details. Sometimes I can make quick, decisive decisions about what I want to happen. “It’s quite simple, actually. I’ll push my bare behind against your bare crotch until you ejaculate all over me. That’s pretty straightforward, is it not?”

“I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Well, neither have I. But it sounds like an interesting technique.” Yep, I can move fast when I’m in the right mood. I lifted my skirt and draped it across my back.

He said, “Nice panties.”

They were white with lacy side panels. “Yes, just the right pair for this time of year. But they have to go too.” I slid them down to my ankles and stepped out of them. “Come on Warren, this is not complicated. Lower your pants and drawers and push away.” During all of that, I was still leaning over the sill. The second-floor window faced a courtyard, but I didn’t see anybody out there.

I was impressed by his next question. “So what are you going to get out of this?”

“Don’t worry. First, we have to see what you get out of it.”

As I looked back at him when his trousers were down, I said, “Wow, you are certainly stiff right now.”

Warren sounded a bit embarrassed. “Well, what did you expect?”

“I expected this, of course.” Sometimes I just like giving a man pleasure to see and feel his reactions.  “So come on, you know what to do.”

I guess he could have simply penetrated me from behind, but probably he was curious about the outcome of my plan too. Our bodies collided, and his cock was upright in my ass crack. He grabbed my hips again and moaned as he thrust away.

For some reason, I decided to sing some tunes to get myself in the right frame of mind and to coordinate my movements. “Mrs. Robinson,” the non-lyrical part, occurred to me first.

“Do, do, do, dee, dah, dee, dah dee,” or some approximation of that was what I sang.

A twenty-year-old guy like Warren doesn’t need much time to come with the right stimulation. I was singing and giggling as his movements became more insistent and his voice was going up in pitch. He was saying whatever guys say during such situations, something like, “Oh God Marion, this feels so good, I love you so much.”

I had noted that men seem to love you most when they are getting their rocks off because of some action you are doing. But I was finding it all rather amusing rather than insulting.

He yelled something incomprehensible as he peaked within a few minutes. I hoped that no one heard him outside, but it was too late. It was impossible to see the results, but I could feel his hot stream pattering back down all over my ass, skirt, and blouse. I teased him, “Hey Warren, that must be one of your longer shots, isn’t it?”

It must have taken a lot out of him because at the end he fell to his knees and grabbed the window sill. I felt proud of having discovered a new (for me anyway) sexual method. We had a good time that afternoon following up with other activities. Both of us were young and had plenty of stamina for fun and games.

*****

My chief complaint about Warren was that he lacked discretion. A lot of young men, without understanding the implications, often can’t help but tell their friends about whatever sexual adventure or conquest that occurs in their lives. Often a woman won’t find out immediately that it was discussed, or maybe she’ll never know.

I found out in a very dramatic way. One of Warren’s sophomore acquaintances, a guy named Nelson, was not among my favorite people. He struck me as being a smartass, and in a very negative way.

One afternoon in June I was sitting in a lounge in Jacobs Hall, one of the classroom buildings, doing some studying for final exams. I had never spoken to Nelson before when Warren wasn’t around, but on that day he came over to me as I was sitting there.

He was a bit cagey about what he wanted and started out in a rather roundabout way. After greeting me, he stood there and said, “Hey Marion, how would you like to make a twenty-dollar bet with me?”

I was trying not to sound rude, and I said, “I don’t know. What kind of deal are you offering?”

“Oh, Warren told me about that ‘frottage’ thing you first tried out in his apartment.” He had a mocking tone in his voice.

I wasn’t happy to hear that. “God, that guy doesn’t have any sense at times. He shouldn’t be blabbing about private matters between us.”

“Well, it’s too late now, he already did it. What I’m proposing is this: if I keep my trousers up, you wouldn’t be able to get me to come with your behind no matter how hard you try.”

“You’re amazingly rude. Is this your misguided attempt to make a pass at me?”

“No, it’s strictly as I said. I don’t believe you’ll be able to do it, and if that is true, then you’ll owe me twenty dollars.”

I was quite blunt about it. “I see. And if you do come in your pants, then you’ll owe me the twenty, right?”

“That’s the whole thing.”

Sometimes men have no clue as to how accurately women can read any situation. I pondered Nelson, and I decided that he was a jerk but he wasn’t dangerous per se. He was using some reverse psychology, perhaps, implying that I was not sexy enough to have an impact on him. I’m used to a higher caliber girl than you. You are not in my league.

I directly questioned his motives. “I know your kind. You think that you can humiliate women with some dumb stunt like this.” I heard myself setting some conditions. “All right, I’ll call your bluff.”

From his expression, he seemed a bit surprised that I had agreed to his wager. “The first condition: I’m going to keep my panties on during this. You’ll see more than enough of me as it is. Then the second thing is: we’ll do it right here, right now, in one of these empty classrooms.”

So I was taking a risk by being alone with him, but some part of me wanted to humiliate him with that strange stunt. Nelson perhaps expected that I’d get all shy and reluctant and be tongue-tied as I blushed. Some part of me was eager to show him how he had underestimated me.

I looked him over. “You don’t have jeans on, just cotton trousers.” They were an off-white color. “That won’t give you much protection against my feminine powers. Is there a time limit for this?”

He made up something. “Yeah, let’s say twenty minutes.”

I was gaining confidence by that point. This guy is truly a fool. I expected to be able to finish him off in less than ten, but I didn’t say that.

“All right, most of the rooms in this building are empty. Let’s pick one.” I stood up and wagged a finger at him. “I hope you’re on the level. Don’t try anything funny during this. And you better have that twenty dollars on hand right now, or soon after.”

He had a mocking tone, but I caught a hint of doubt on his part. “Don’t worry, I’m good for it. Are you?”

I just ignored him. “Come on, let’s go and get this done.” I made sure that he walked next to me, not behind me. He’d be seeing enough of my ass soon enough.

We went into an empty room. I didn’t turn the lights on but I locked the door. I was modestly dressed in a short-sleeved blouse and blue jeans. I didn’t waste any time or words. Instead, I went over one of the desks on the side away from the windows, unbuckled my jeans, and lowered them below my knees. Then I bent over a desk.

Marion, you certainly have a cute little pair of yellow panties on today. That should help you win the bet, I’m sure. I briefly looked back at Nelson. “All right stud, let’s see if you can control yourself.”

To overcome any doubts he may still have had, I began moving my behind back and forth. 

Maybe I imagined it, but I thought he swallowed hard. I knew nothing about his personal life or who if anybody he was dating. While Warren talked too much about himself, this guy kept the details of his life close to the vest.

Yet whatever his experiences had been, he was still a young man at the peak of his horniness and he did what his instincts told him to do. In a moment, he stepped forward and grabbed my hips. Then he pressed himself against me and began moving his clothed body against my bare rear..

With the practice I had, I knew how to move too. I had a variety of actions to use that I was sure would work. I moved my butt back and forth, up and down, and sometimes in a circular motion. I was singing too, which helped my enthusiasm. The first song was Simon and Garfunkel’s “Cecilia,” which seemed to fit the spirit of the moment.

Within thirty seconds I was sure I was going to win the bet. I could feel Nelson’s cock harden inside his pants. A few more moments, and he was moaning. He even repeated my first name, which actually bothered me more than his masturbation – which it was – against my backside. At least he didn’t claim to love me.

I had guessed I could get him to come in ten minutes, but it probably was more like seven. Nelson, your claims at self-control are completely bogus. I was just starting Kenny Roger’s “The Gambler,” which I had chosen for the occasion, when his pushes grew frantic. From his position, I guessed he had gotten up on his toes.

He repeated something like, “oh,” “oh,” “oh,” and then I felt him ejaculating into his pants. He was holding on to me as if his life depended on it. It was beyond any chance for him to stop. There was a kind of pulsing under the cloth of his crotch, and then I felt how wet his front was becoming. 

Nelson didn’t know when to hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em. He would have lost the bet if he had quit earlier, but he might have saved himself some embarrassment. But few if any young men would have done anything different.

I commented to him, “Nelson, it would be interesting to see what it looks like if you were bare.” Warren’s first shot that time must have really gone up and out a long way.

Nelson was beyond lucid thoughts by then and kept going until he was spent. Then he stopped and fell back against the chair behind us. He was gasping in his post-orgasmic state, but I felt like teasing him anyway

When I stood up and turned around, he was looking with dismay at his own trousers. There was a huge wet area all around his crotch, and he said, “My God, look at this mess. I can’t leave here like this.”

I felt obligated to suggest something. “Just take your shirt off and tie it around your waist. That should cover it.” I had no clue as to where he lived or how far he had to go to get here. “It does look like you peed on yourself, although if I look closely I can see that it’s your spunk coming through.”

“Marion, this isn’t funny.”

“I think it’s hilarious. My only regret is that I didn’t bet more, like maybe forty or fifty.” Then I noticed something else. “You put out so much that the seat of my panties is wet too.”

I was in a devilish mood, so I slipped off my jeans and then my panties. I tossed the latter to him. He was too busy with his shirt to catch them. He did say, “What am I supposed to do with those?”

“You can’t be that dim. Use your imagination.” I laughed. “It’s something you can always remember me by.”

“I don’t come in female undergarments.”

“Oh, I bet you have. Every guy has probably done it. I guess they don’t have ‘panty raids’ at colleges anymore. What do you think that was all about?” He was still discombobulated as I asked, “And where is my twenty dollars?”

“I don’t have it on me.”

“I see, a gambler who miscalculated the odds. I just thought of something. Are you up for a rematch? I’ll wear cotton trousers too to make it a fairer match. Make it forty this time.”

I was very amused, but he wasn’t. He lashed out at me. “You’re just a whore.”

“And you’re, what, a dick? Send your friends, I’ll take them on too.”

“You’re not serious.”

“No, I’m probably not. I mean, would you tell them the truth? I admit, it’s interesting to fantasize about cleaning you guys out.”

I thought he’d curse that time, but he was able to control his emotions. I continued, “So we’re done for now. I’d like you to leave first; I insist on that, if fact.”

I was surprised that he first leaned down and scooped up my panties. As he walked out, I was briefly uncomfortable realizing that he surely was going to masturbate into them that evening. Oh well, you can’t control everything either.

I called out to him, “Get them good and soaked tonight. I don’t know if you have a girlfriend or not, but that’s one thing you can do well.” 

Another regret was that I couldn’t tell Warren what had happened. Nelson was humiliated enough and I didn’t want to pile it on. It would have also been awkward for me to talk about it. I don’t think I ever mentioned it to anyone until I was with my stepson years later.

Yet overall, I was feeling great as I leaned against the desk. Then I realized I was bottomless. Oops, I have to get my jeans back on before I can leave here. Yet I laughed to myself as I put them back on. We Indiana girls may look mild and wholesome, but appearances can be deceiving.

######