by Dani Dundee
His whole body stiffened up, like he didn’t quite know what to expect. The coffee machine hissed and beeped, dispensing a warm drink into his cup. He didn’t pick it up. I gently rubbed my nose in-between his shoulder blades; he smelt good, clean, and his clothes carried a hint of some kind of lemony wash. Not like sweat like the jocks. Not like BO like the geeks. Just a nice, pleasant fragrance that was both soft and masculine.
“Um hey, Hayley…?”
“Mmm hmm?” I asked, wiggling my fingers in a bit lower, and un-doing the button on his jeans.
“What are you doing?”
I just sort of laughed, a halting, giggling effort that faded as quickly as it began. “We’re studying gender,” I said, matter-of-factually. “There’s a lot to be said for academia, but they just so often lack experience in the practical side of things.” My fingers slid into his briefs, feeling around. He was already hard, needfully pressing against my fingertips, throbbing gently at my touch. I stroked, teasingly dragging a nail up the length of his shaft.
Thomas inhaled gently. “Are you sure this is okay?”
“If it’s okay with you, and it’s okay with me, then I think it’s okay.” I kissed his back, working my hand up and down against his shaft, feeling the firmness of it, the length. He was quite a thing, for a shy boy in Gender Studies, and he seemed to grow with every little touch I gave him.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked, almost demurely, unsure of himself but clearly going along with what I was doing to him.
“We only have ten minutes,” I said, rubbing my nose against the small of his back and my thumb over the dampening head of his cock. “We might want to move things along a bit.”
I moved my hands back up and out, blindly fumbling for the zipper. Found it. I dropped that thing right down, smiling with satisfaction at the vszzzzip sound it made. I hooked my thumbs into the waistline of his jeans and tugged them down, revealing his bright red boxers. I slid them away as well.
“Show me what you got,” I said, backing away from him.
Awkwardly, Thomas turned around, and I could sense he wanted to cover himself; I raised an eyebrow curiously at his length. Thick and bent slightly to the left.
“What do you think?” he asked, somewhat sheepishly.
“We can work with this,” I said, taking his hand and leading him over to one of the beanbags.
Thomas, seeming to gauge my intention fairly well, flopped down onto one of the bigger ones, naked below the waist. I casually hiked up my skirt and sat over him, straddling his large shaft. It poked into my panties.
“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked, looking up at me.
My sister had told me all about this room. It was one of those rooms, for taking boys into.
“It’s fine,” I said, grinding down against him. I liked the way he felt, warm and hard, and the way he pressed against me despite his shyness. I reached down, gently pushed the thin part of my panties aside, and eased myself down onto him.
He didn’t disappoint. His eager shaft slid snugly into me, filling up my snuggle box; it was so warm and tight, I barely had to move and already I could feel him throbbing within me.
“That’s good,” he said, rolling his shoulders until they cracked.
“Mmm, you’re telling me,” I said, sliding my hands under his shirt, rocking back and forth, letting the motion do most of the work. It did feel good; I liked doing it partially clothed, and the fabrics of our shirts rubbing together made the whole thing even sweeter. The beanbag made that weird kind of hissing, rustling noise as I moved, rolling my hips, moving his manhood in and out.
Normally I would take my time with this, savor it and make sure I had a nice, healthy orgasm as well, but we didn’t have time. Thomas seemed like the kind of guy who would get antsy if we weren’t back in time for the lecture to resume, so I didn’t hold back. I bounced myself on top of him, leaning over him so that our chests brushed; I held onto his collar, pulling him close, and I kissed him, pressing his lips to mine. He kissed back. A soft groan of pleasure escaped our locked lips—his, I think—and I kept on keeping on, rubbing my breasts against his chest, grinding down against his crotch.
Finally, it seemed as though Thomas got a little bit of courage. His hands found their way to my hips. Just resting there, for now, but it was enough for now. I kissed under his chin, down his neck, playfully working at him, my hips thumping against his to a regular, even beat. Thump, thump, thump. Rustle, rustle, rustle.
He seemed to be lasting the distance. I had thought this would be a quick thing, just in and out and back in class, but the more I tried to get him off—I would squirm my hips at the bottom of each bounce, I’d nibble a bit at his ear, I’d slide my hands around and grip his bare backside—nothing seemed to work. Sure, his cock was thick and heavy inside me, and that was definitely good for me, but there was a part of me that had taken this challenge and wanted to run with it: I wanted him to cum. I wanted him to cum quickly, and deeply, and powerfully, and for us to make our fairly arbitrary ten minute deadline.
The seconds ticked away, each marked by a bounce of my hips and the thump of his shaft bottoming out inside me, but he didn’t seem to want to cum.
I gripped his collar, nipping at his neck again. “Make like Elsa and let it go already,” I breathed, sliding my hand up his chest, to his left nipple, and I gently squeezed.
That did it. He shivered underneath me, inhaling sharply. “Do that again,” he breathed, his face tightening and scrunching up.
“Say the thing about Frozen?” Hey, whatever got him off…
“Nnnf, no, the thing with your finger…”
I pinched his nipple again, playing with the duct, dragging my finger in small circles around the red area. He moaned; the low, pleasured moan I’d come to expect men to make in…other situations.
It worked. Suddenly he was into it; his hips worked against mine and he pushed back up against me, driving himself in deeply, firmly, eagerly. I could smell his sweat, and his musky, growing passions. I slid my other hand up, and I did the same thing to his other nipple, pinching slightly and twisting.
I felt warmth spread over my face and the sparkles deep inside me; pleasure rushed through my body like a static discharge and I squirmed as I felt the heavy, repetitive pounding at my body.
“Nnnf,” I gasped, barely able to form words. “Ahh, ahh, ahh!”
He gripped me with his hips, thrusting in one last time, driving up into me with a desire I hadn’t seen in him since we started. His eyes closed; his breath came in rough pants, much like my own. I felt the warm tickling of his seed, splattering against my inner walls, warm and soft and gooey.
I held him tight, he held me tight, and we got through it together. When it was done, and we were both spent, we lay there, half naked and sticky, panting and giggling in a weird, happy, post-coital silliness.
“We are going to be so late,” I said, sliding off him with a wet pop.
“Yeah,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Although, I have to say…there’s a lot of merit in practical studies.”
I laughed and helped him stand. “Yeah, well, play your cards right, and we just might see about having more of these…extracurricular study sessions.”
“They’re very educational,” he said, smirking like a fox.
“Very,” I said, adjusting my skirt and fixing up my hair. I nodded to the cup of coffee, no longer steaming. “You didn’t have your drink…”
“To be honest,” said Thomas, pulling on his jeans, “fuck the drink.”
I laughed. “Let’s get back to class,” I said, and took his hand again.
EPILOGUE
Better Late than Never
We pushed open the door as quietly as we could and crept back into the lecture. As expected, the class had resumed; we didn’t dare take our old seats, all the way in the middle, so we just took two of the dodgy ones up the back.
I knew we smelled of sweat and sex, and it was probably pretty obvious
to the people sitting around us what we’d done, but I didn’t care. The lecture slide had changed; now the topic was How are gender ideals changing in the 21st century? , and the lecturer was in the front, pontificating about the changes that had taken place in Australia in the modern era. With my, ahem, needs taken care of for the moment, I was happy to listen in, and to be fair, they said a lot of good things that I’m sure would probably appear in our exam.
Thomas slipped his hand into mine, and I squeezed it back. I didn’t think we were going steady—that wasn’t exactly something I did, especially not with guys I’d only just met—but it was nice, and I welcomed it for what it was.
Nice. Pleasant. Encouraging. I smiled at him, carefully, out of the corner of my eye. He smiled back.
Yeah. This was going to be a fun year…
***
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DANI’S EROTICA SHORTS COLLECTION
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Kate’s Sexy Party
The Six Inch Deep Club
Quinn’s Revenge
Dani’s Erotica Shorts Collection
The Nun’s Lover
About Dani Dundee
Dani Dundee is an Australian author who has never publicly acknowledged a relationship with Crocodile Dundee. She likes to watch cat videos on YouTube and write naughty, naughty “fiction” stories for you!
Table of Contents
Red Hot Candy
Table of Contents
The Things I Never Said by Jo Raven
Perfectly Equipped by Lacey Silks
Billionaires in Disguise: Rae, Kidnapped by Blair Babylon
A Fan-TAB-Ulous Night by Olivia Rigal
Take it Easy by Daisy Prescott
Before Flesh by Sky Corgan
Scorched into Submission by Daizie Draper
Pandora's Box by Sarah M. Cradit
Braving Love by SJ Mayer
Always Enough by Molly McLain
Mine In Dreams by Olivia Hardin
Like Home by Mira Bailee
Unshakeable by JC Valentine
Yearning to Yield by Pavarti K Tyler
First-Class Scoundrel by Liv Morris
Mated in Bearfield by Jacqueline Sweet
Le Moulin by JC Andrijeski
Jesse's Girl by Alison Foster
Dude by Gillian Cherry
Biker Billionaire's Bitch by Layla Wilcox
Swaying Fate by Irma Geddon
Gender Studies 101 by Dani Dundee
Disclaimers and Copyright Notices
Disclaimers and Copyright Notices
Red Hot Candy and Red Hot Boxed Sets
Copyright 2015 by Malachite Publishing LLC
All Rights Reserved
Individual copyrights were licensed by
and remain with each author as noted
at the beginning of each novel.
These are all works of fiction.
Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the authors’ wild and naughty imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission from the individual author and publisher.
1st Edition: July, 2015
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