The First Time of the Shyest Guy in the Class

I was twenty-nine when I decided to go back to university to study a second degree. I enrolled in a computer science program where the vast majority of the students were men between twenty and twenty-three, with all the immaturity that implies. It didn’t bother me. It was entertaining to watch them from my seat in the second row, at the comfortable distance of someone who had already gone through that stage and remembered it without nostalgia.

It was obvious I caught their attention, but most of them didn’t know how to handle that, so they made up for it with clowning around. The group had that classic twenty-something dynamic: aggression disguised as play, jokes that crossed lines, and a constant need to prove who was the boldest. I ignored them elegantly and kept to my own thing.

One Tuesday in October, the professor arrived late. Really late, more than half an hour. The classroom began to heat up with the energy of twenty bored, unsupervised boys. They started with insults, then shoving, and then that stupid joke of pulling each other’s pants down. I was looking at my phone, trying to ignore them. Until I saw him.

His name was Rodrigo. He was twenty-one, tall, of average build, with light brown hair and black-rimmed glasses that slid down his nose whenever he looked down. He was the quietest one in the group, the one who always arrived first to class and never joined in the jokes. He carried notebooks, not a tablet. He took notes by hand. There was something monastic about the way he existed in that classroom that I found hard to place in that environment.

He was coming through the door when one of his classmates yanked his pants down from behind.

What followed was an instant. A second, maybe two. But I was looking in that direction exactly when it happened. Rodrigo wasn’t wearing underwear.

I froze. Not because of the joke or his horrified face, but because of what I saw. Even at rest, it was obvious: a long, thick cock hanging heavy between his legs, carefully shaved, with big, clean balls underneath. A dick completely out of proportion for someone who seemed so harmless. He pulled his pants back up immediately and the others burst out laughing. Rodrigo sat down in silence, cheeks red, not looking at anyone. And I was left with that image stuck in my head for days, touching myself at night thinking about how that cock would feel filling my mouth, sinking into my cunt all the way to the root.

***

I had gone more than two months without fucking anyone. That wasn’t usually a problem for me, but the routine of classes and work had dried me out inside. And that untimely accident had lit something in me that I couldn’t easily turn off. Every time I got in the shower I ended up with two fingers in my cunt and the other hand pinching a nipple, imagining that cock entering me.

I started getting closer to Rodrigo little by little. I asked him about the practical exercises, asked him to explain topics I perfectly understood on my own. He always answered patiently and without pretension. He never flirted, never looked at me too long. He talked about compilers, algorithms, a mathematical logic class he was passionate about. Only that.

I tried several times to steer the conversation into more personal territory. I asked if he went out often, if he had friends outside the university, if he liked anyone in the group. He answered in monosyllables or redirected the topic toward some technical problem he had pending. It was like talking to someone who had learned to function in the academic world and had never needed the other one.

One afternoon, before database class started, I asked him directly if he had a girlfriend.

—No —he said, without taking his eyes off the notes he was copying—. I’ve never had one.

Never had one. He said it without any pain, as if he were telling me he didn’t have a car either. Just another fact. I imagined that enormous cock wasted, never having been used in a pussy, and felt my panties go damp right there, in the middle of the classroom.

Three weeks after that classroom scene, I invited him to my apartment.

—We have to turn in the data structures project next week —I told him—. We can make progress on Saturday at my place, I already have the environment set up and there’s more room to work.

He agreed without hesitation.

***

He arrived on time, with a backpack and a bottle of water. We sat at the dining table and actually worked for the first hour. He was meticulous, organized, knew exactly what he was doing. I got distracted watching him out of the corner of my eye: the way he frowned when something wouldn’t compile, the patience with which he checked each line before hunting for the error. And under the table I kept clenching my thighs, soaked, thinking about what he had hidden in his sweatpants.

During a quiet moment, I asked him again if he had a girlfriend. I already knew the answer, but I needed a thread to pull on.

—No —he repeated—. No one has really interested me, actually.

—No one? —I said, letting the question hang.

—Well —he hesitated—. I don’t know. Sometimes I think maybe I don’t know how that works. With people, I mean.

He doesn’t know how it works. I felt something tighten in my chest, and something tightening much lower too.

It was hot in the apartment. I took off my sweater and was left in a tight tank top, without a bra. I have big breasts and he noticed, because he blinked, looked away, then looked back at the screen with exaggerated concentration that made it clear exactly the opposite of what he intended. A bulge was showing in his sweatpants, growing by the second.

I couldn’t wait any longer.

—Rodrigo —I said, bluntly—. Since that day in class, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.

He went still with his hands on the keyboard.

—What day?

—The day they pulled your pants down. The day I saw your cock.

The silence that followed was thick. His ears went red first, then his cheeks.

—Ah —he said, very softly.

—I want to suck it —I said simply—. I want to suck you until you come in my mouth. If you want.

He didn’t answer right away. He looked at me for several seconds with an expression that was a mix of panic, disbelief, and something else I still didn’t know how to name.

—I’ve never been with a girl —he said at last.

—I know —I replied—. That’s exactly why. I want to be the first one to swallow that cock.

I got up and walked over to him. I kissed him slowly, carefully, and slid my tongue into his mouth without rushing. He didn’t know how to respond at first, his lips stiff and his hands still at his sides. But he didn’t pull away. That was enough to start.

I took one of his hands and placed it on my breast over the tank top. I felt the tension in his fingers change, how he squeezed without really knowing what to do with it. I guided him a little, taught him to squeeze harder, to find my nipple with his thumb over the fabric. I yanked the tank top off and put my tits in his face. This time he did take a nipple in his mouth, clumsy and careful at the same time, like someone learning a new language and not wanting to make serious mistakes. I grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him deeper.

—Suck harder —I whispered—. Bite me a little, you’re not going to break me.

He obeyed. He closed his teeth carefully around the nipple and a shiver shot straight down to my cunt. I put the other breast to his mouth and he played with both, alternating, while I grabbed the bulge over his sweatpants and squeezed it. It was rock hard. I could feel the full shape of it through the fabric, that long, thick curve that had been chasing me for weeks.

I got on my knees in front of him.

The pants were sweatpants, no belt. I pulled them down without hurry. He still wasn’t wearing underwear, just like that Tuesday. And there it was, no longer at rest, already starting to rise toward me, heavy and thick, with a reddened tip and balls pressed tight against his body. I grabbed it with my hand and still couldn’t close my fingers all the way around it. It was bigger than I remembered.

I took it in my hand first and started stroking him slowly, pulling the foreskin up and down, watching the tip get shinier with every movement. He held his breath.

—Is this okay? —I asked, without stopping.

—Yes —he said, his voice breaking—. Yes, keep going.

I spit on the tip and watched the saliva slide down his cock to his balls. I lowered my mouth and licked him from the base to the tip, slowly, tracing every vein with my tongue. Then I ran my tongue flat under his balls, sucked them one by one, taking them all the way into my mouth, and went back up the other side. Rodrigo clenched his fists against the sofa and let out a groan that sounded like someone who had never groaned before.

I took the tip into my mouth and ran my tongue over the head, pressing just under the crown. Then I started swallowing, centimeter by centimeter, until I felt it pressing into the back of my throat. It was too much to take all at once, so I worked it with both hands while I kept sucking the tip and the first few centimeters. I heard his breathing turn uneven, felt his fingers reach for my hair, unsure whether to grab or not.

—You can grab —I said, pulling back for a moment and tapping it against my lips—. Grab my head and fuck my mouth. Don’t hold back.

And he grabbed me. At first with fear, then with more force. I taught him to set the rhythm, to push my head down when I went down. He filled my mouth with cock again and again, until saliva was dripping down my chin and mascara was running. I grabbed his balls with one hand and stroked his ass with the other while he fucked my face. He was right at the edge, you could tell by the way his whole body tensed, by how his thighs trembled under me.

I pulled him out of my mouth just before he came and squeezed the base hard.

—Not yet —I said, panting—. I want you to put it in me first.

I led him to the sofa. I guided his hand between my legs and watched his face when he felt how wet I was. He was genuinely surprised, as if he hadn’t calculated that possibility. I took his fingers and ran them up and down my cunt, letting him feel how much I wanted him.

—Is that because of me? —he asked.

—Yes —I said, laughing a little—. All of this is yours. Put them in.

He slid two fingers in with more determination than I expected and moved them slowly, looking at my face the whole time as if he were studying a live reaction. He was so focused even at this that I found it sweet. I grabbed his wrist and showed him the rhythm, how to curl his fingers upward to find the spot that made me arch.

—There —I moaned into his mouth—. Right there, keep going.

I asked him to kiss me while he did it, and this time he knew how. The body learns fast when it has reasons to learn. With his other hand he went to my clit and started making clumsy circles that slowly found the beat. I came over his fingers almost without warning, clutching his wrist against me while my legs shook.

—Fuck —he said, looking at his soaked fingers—. Fuck.

***

I climbed on top of him, and he was still seated on the sofa with his cock pointing at the ceiling, hard, shiny with saliva. I took it in my hand and ran it across the lips of my cunt several times, letting the tip slip between my folds, wetting it well before lowering myself onto it.

—Look —I told him—. Watch me take it in.

I sank down slowly. I felt the tip open me up, the pressure of a body that wasn’t used to something so thick. I stopped halfway, breathed, and kept going down until I felt his balls against me. I had it all inside. I stayed still for a second, adjusting to the size, to that fullness that almost hurt because it was so complete.

Rodrigo let out something that wasn’t exactly a word. His eyes were closed and his mouth open, as if he were holding his breath.

—Don’t move —I asked—. Let me do it first.

I moved on my own at first, setting the rhythm. I started slowly, rising almost to the tip and lowering myself again centimeter by centimeter, feeling every vein scrape inside me. Then I sped up, bracing myself on his shoulders, riding him with my tits in his face. He bit them, sucked my nipples without taking his eyes off me, and every time I came down he let out a rough groan.

His hands were on my hips but he didn’t know what to do with them, so I put them on my waist and showed him how to follow along. It took him a few minutes, but eventually he started keeping up with me, thrusting up from below when I went down, driving it into me to the hilt with each stroke. He found the rhythm little by little, as if his body were understanding what his mind had never been able to learn any other way.

—That’s it —I panted in his ear—. Tear up my cunt, don’t be gentle.

He got the hang of it fast. He dug his hands into my hips and started fucking up into me with a force I hadn’t expected from him. Every удар made my breasts bounce against his face, and he grabbed them, squeezed them, took them into his mouth. I came on top of him with his cock all the way inside, my cunt spasming around it and making him let out a long groan.

—Wait —I said, pulling off him and breathing—. Come here, I want you to fuck me from behind.

I knelt on the sofa, resting my elbows on the backrest, ass raised toward him. He got behind me and shoved it in again in one thrust. I screamed. From that angle it went deeper, hit the very bottom, struck something inside me that made me see white spots.

—Grab my hair —I told him—. And pull hard.

He grabbed my ponytail and yanked my head back while he fucked me from behind, with a violence he was finding by instinct. With his other hand he slapped my ass, first softly, then harder when I moaned yes at him. He drove his cock to the hilt over and over, his balls slapping against me, until I came again, this time squeezing him so hard I almost pulled him out.

—I’m going to come —he gasped—. I can’t hold it anymore.

—Inside —I said—. Come inside, I want to feel it.

When he did, he went completely still, eyes closed and breathing broken, and I felt shot after shot filling me from the inside, hot, thick, a lot. His body shook with each pulse, moaning against my back like it hurt from pleasure. I waited for him to come back to himself, with his cock still buried in me, throbbing.

When he pulled out, the semen started sliding down my thighs. I turned around, knelt in front of him again, and cleaned his cock with my mouth, licking it to the base, swallowing what was left.

—Are you okay? —I asked, looking up at him.

He opened his eyes. He nodded slowly.

—Yes —he said—. Very.

We didn’t talk much after that. He stayed a while longer, we checked some of the project as if nothing had happened, and he left with the same backpack he had arrived with. From the window I watched him cross the street and thought he probably wouldn’t sleep much that night.

***

The next few days at the university were strange. He looked at me but didn’t come close. He answered when I spoke to him but kept physical distance. I thought maybe he had regretted it, that discomfort had won out and that Saturday would be filed away in some corner he preferred not to revisit.

Until one Thursday, leaving algorithms class, he took me by the arm in the hallway and pulled me into the last-floor bathroom, the one almost nobody ever used.

He shoved me against the wall and kissed me hungrily. This time he knew how from the start. It wasn’t the same inexperienced kiss as Saturday.

—I’ve been thinking about you for days —he said, his mouth against my ear—. About your cunt. About how tight you got around me. I don’t know how to ask you to do it again. I don’t know what the rules are.

—There are no rules —I said, grabbing the bulge over his pants—. You just have to ask. Take it out.

He pulled down his sweatpants and his cock sprang into his hand, already rock hard. I knelt right there, in the bathroom, and took it into my mouth to the back of my throat. I sucked his dick against the cold tile while he grabbed my head and fucked my mouth, moaning low so no one in the hallway would hear him. He pulled it out of my mouth, lifted me off the floor, hiked up my skirt and ripped my panties off with two fingers.

He turned me around, pressed my hands against the tiles and bent me forward. I felt his hands open my hips with a confidence he hadn’t had eight days earlier. He shoved it in with one thrust, all the way to the hilt, and covered my mouth with his hand to muffle my cry. He started pounding into me fast, not giving me time to get used to it, with the desperation he’d built up over those days.

What followed was different from Saturday: more urgent, less calculated, more him choosing the rhythm instead of following mine. He got some things wrong, he still lacked experience, but in the middle of that clumsiness there was something genuine that made me feel more than many other times with men who thought they were experts. He drove it into me to the hilt with every thrust, squeezed one breast from under the bra, bit my neck.

I came there, biting my hand so I wouldn’t scream, with him inside me. He held out a little longer and then pulled out and came over my ass, in hot spurts that slid down my back while he panted against the nape of my neck.

We fucked many times after that. In my apartment, in his, in the university bathroom, once in the car in the parking lot. I taught him to eat my pussy, to do it slowly with his tongue until I was tugging his hair. I taught him some things, we learned others together. The quietest boy in the classroom turned out to have exactly the cock I’d spent months needing to find.