SouthWestern Law School

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Big Tits

I NEVER THOUGHT I’D be standing on the campus of a law school, but there I was, standing on the main campus of Southwestern Law School. I had always had my sights set upon medical school, I wanted to be an infectious disease specialist but my grandmother – who was footing my tuition – had her heart set on my being a lawyer; seriously, could she had picked a more boring field? My grandmother though, was the type that when she would get to Heaven, she’d ask for better accommodations.

A free college education though, sounded beyond wonderful!

But I still bitched about going to law school over medical school. My close friends told me I’d be helping out the legal field in spades – lawyers might actually get a better reputation if they had a body like mine. I never had a flat tummy, but I did work out so I never would cross that line into being fat. The men I had been with never complained, they loved my curves; my rounded breasts that would jiggle as I rode their cocks of varying sizes, my ample butt that loved to be spanked like the bad girl I was in the bedroom. Let’s just say, I never had an issue filling out a top or a tight pair of jeans.

My dorm room on campus was nothing special, my grandmother springing that extra cash to let me have a room all to myself. I had a rather large desk that was cluttered with thick tomes of the law – old ones bound in rich leather that came from my late grandfather to the newest text books that my grandmother had paid for. The rest of my room said nothing about me being a lawyer – decorated with video game posters for horror games, and consoles everywhere you looked, along with crooked stacks of video games in various sized boxes.

My most expensive games (my prized Silent Hill games) sat under the spot on the TV stand. A mess of books and cords, the story and look for most of my life! Only this time, rather than medical books on the plague and ebola, it was law books and textbooks designed to get me to think like a lawyer. I shut the cover on a textbook, and slipped my essay into a folder. I leaned back in my chair and stretched, catching a quick glance at my Silent Hill 2 poster, the one with James and Pyramid Head, a Japanese import, Büyükesat Escort Silent Hill spelled out in kanji rather than the familiar English alphabet I knew. I knew some kanji, but I always liked to think it said Stay sexy, and don’t get murdered, as I found James Sunderland to be an absolute hunk of a man.

When I was growing up, gamers found it completely normal to have a thing for the pixels upon your screen. James Sunderland – along with the slew of other Silent Hill men – always got my motor revved up. I felt a light dew dampen my lips that were locked away in a cotton jail, which was typical every time I even so much as glanced in James’s direction. I decided I needed a cold soda, and maybe play something that didn’t get my motor going, maybe like Crash Bandicoot?

I left my room, and was standing in a circular hallway, a middle passageway gave easy access to the other side of the circle, but that passageway also was filled with vending machines. I stood in front of a bulky vending machine deciding what I wanted to drink; a crisp coke? A bubbly 7-Up? From my other side, I saw a gaggle of either soon-to-be lawyers or soon-to-be law school drop outs, mixing drinks and getting drunk. But I noticed someone I had seen always late to my various classes, a guy named Michael Lava.

He was tall, and slender, with a very angular face. Blonde hair that was gelled back and kept under control with a black hair tie, a blonde pony tail cascaded down his back in a golden wave. He wore a button down baby blue western shirt, and blue jeans, and a nice pair of black boots as he stood there, a thumb locked through one of the belt loops on his jeans. A brown leather belt wound around his waist, a shiny buckle sat in the middle. I decided that a soda and Crash Bandicoot could wait, this man should be someone who is snapped up faster than a cheap Silent Hill game! Which is very fast for my non-gamer readers. I walked over, happy that I wore what I had decided to wear that day to class. An outfit that didn’t exactly scream lawyer of any type of law. I wore a red gingham top, and tight blue jeans, my brown cowboy boots pulled Elvankent Escort over my jeans.

I stopped before he saw me, and un-buttoned my top, tying the loose ends to make it a crop-top, and really show off my curves and cleavage before resuming my path towards him. I walked up to him, and was hit with a smell that I had not expected, he reeked of hair spray, not that I’m complaining – when your type includes long hair, that hair spray smell comes with the territory. He smiled when he saw me. “Boy, howdy! Lawyers around these parts sure are pretty!”

I cringed at his words and that terrible accent, and he must of saw the disturbed look upon my face because his handsome face fell. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss,” he said, speaking with a voice that was deep and husky, like melted chocolate upon a cold alp of vanilla ice cream. “Today was the pep rally for Southwestern, my band dressed like cowboys and played country music as joke. I mean, you know.”

He motioned to my outfit of choice. “I had no idea there was a pep rally at a law school, I was busy in my classes,” I said, in my southern twang. “This is just how I dress. I mean…not exactly like this…but…never mind.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to make fun of you! My band and I were trying to make fun of the school, Southwestern, cowboy getups, you get it? Right?”

I did get it, but it was probably called Southwestern because it was in Arizona, a state in the Southwest. “Uh, yeah, uh, hey, what area of law are you thinking of going into, Michael?” I asked him, trying to change the subject. A lot of people tended to turn mean when they heard my twang, I’m Southern, I must be racist.

“Oh, I’m thinking about probate,” he said beaming. I started to smell other things underneath the aroma of hair spray. He was a smoker, that much I knew. “You?”

“My grandmother wants me to be a probate lawyer as well,” I said, screwing my perfectly rouged mouth to the side. My ears perked up as I heard Honky Tonk Badonkadonk began to waft out of the netted speakers of the radio. “Do you know any western dances?”

I allowed my hands go above my head and Beşevler Escort I crossed my wrists as I rocked my hips from side to side, watching his dark brown eyes caged behind his glasses tick back and forth with every shake of my hips. His mouth opened a bit, and I thought he’d answer me with a word or perhaps a sentence, but he shook his head. I rested my hands on his hips and pulled him closer to me. What happened next wasn’t a western dance, or at least one I’ve ever been taught, but by this point, even with that cringe caked start to this encounter, I was pretty wet, and horny.

His eyes as we swayed, my crotch grinding up against his hard member, bore down into the deep canyon that was my cleavage. I had decided to forgo a bra today, I had woke up not feeling real well (lactose intolerance and a dinner at Ruth’s Chris, where butter is melted on just about everything, just does not mix). The bra would be an extra minute that I’d waste. I could feel my tits swinging in the gingham top, no tie too tight for them. I knew he wanted his face between my tits, and truth be told, I wanted his face between my tits too, but I knew better than to let some random guy – soon-to-be lawyer or not – go ham wild in my tits standing in a common area.

I kept grinding upon his hard member, but even my pussy wanted to give his rock hard cock a sloppy wet kiss. The song came to an end and some song I didn’t recognize came on. I looked up at Michael, and he was panting, possibly close to delivery, but what man likes to unload into pants? Well, law school is college, and shouldn’t I have at least one college experience? I thought so. I placed my hands upon his hard stomach. “Do you want some more, cowboy?” I asked him, pawing at his hard denim covered member, I could feel heat, excitement and lust stirring within him. He nodded with vigor, I just hoped he humped with vigor. “Good, because this is one cowgirl who is having trouble keeping her calves together.”

He kissed me, hard, knocking me back almost, I didn’t mind though – I always liked it when a guy knew what he wanted. He picked me up as if I was his bride. He planted his thumb where my little love button was, and I felt a squish, my panties were thoroughly soaked through and through. I moaned against his mouth as he stumbled through the passageway, following my breathy directions to my dorm room, the whoops from the gaggle of either soon-to-be lawyers or soon-to-be law school drop outs followed us as he kicked open the door to my dorm and we poured inside a hot horny mess.

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