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“I can’t afford the side trip to Machu Picchu, Peter.”

“Neither can I, Debbie.”

The student cruise had reached Lima, the next-to-last port before we returned to the U. S. The third payment of my stipend as a junior faculty member was pretty much spent, and I wouldn’t be paid again until we reached Los Angeles. I was pretty poor and I wanted to see Machu Picchu, but it cost too much.

“The guide on the bus gave me his card and said he could take us up into the mountains to an interesting city. He needs a minimum of six people. We could split his fee if he’ll make sure we can afford the travel and the hotel.”

“My boyfriend Mike wants to go. Let’s ask around and see if we can round up three more.”

Within an hour we had our six. In addition to Debbie and Mike there was Marjorie, a 26-year-old undergraduate, and Janet and MP, roommates and sophomores.

Marcos spoke fractured but very understandable English. He whisked us to the train station and for the next eight hours we rode a cog railroad up the mountains to Huancayo, at 10,000 feet a world apart from sea-level Lima. The route was breathtaking, not only because of the change in altitude but because we were crammed in with hundreds of local people, not only the only tourists but seemingly the only people not born in the mountains.

I spotted a girl, who couldn’t have been more than 15. She was absolutely the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She had the classic Peruvian Indian features, color, dress, and smile. She also had a baby on her hip and another one in hand.

We got to the city just before dark and walked to our hotel. Marcos had arranged for three double rooms (with two large beds) and a single room for himself, something he clearly did regularly as the desk clerk greeted him warmly. There was one bathroom for the whole floor.

I didn’t particularly relish sleeping with Marjorie. She was bland and not much of a conversationalist. She was one of the few students who wore dresses from time to time, but they didn’t do much for her.

Janet and MP, on the other hand, seemed perfectly happy to be with each other. I caught up with MP, who was chattier than her Janet, and took her aside. “Can we sleep together tonight, MP?”

“Go to hell.”

Marjorie and I tossed our bags on the beds and joined the others for dinner. The four-course meal that Marcos picked out for us was light on meat, strong on local vegetables and fruits, and came with a very good bottle of Peruvian wine (who knew Peruvians made wine?). We left the restaurant around 10 and walked back to the hotel.

Debbie and Mike headed for bed right away, and Marcos disappeared, probably to join friends elsewhere. Marjorie and I joined Janet and MP in their room and talked for a while. Marjorie drifted off to our room. I was lying beside MP on her bed and Janet was on hers when I started to rub MP’s back. She squirmed closer to me even as she kept up the conversation with us both. I moved my hand up her back and played with her bra, and she leaned into me.

“I’m going to get my stuff, I’ll be right back, MP,” I said, and walked across the hall to my room. Marjorie was sitting on the edge of her bed when I came in and looked expectantly at me. I said “hi,” avoided her eyes, grabbed my bag, and left.

I tossed my bag on a chair and lay down on MP’s bed. I had no idea what the two had said while I was gone, but when I came back Janet gave me an angry look and left the room.

I looked at MP, not knowing what to expect.

“MP, I didn’t want to be hurtful. It’s just that I do want to be with you tonight.”

“While you were gone Janet and I talked. She understands.”

We kissed and suddenly were oh-so-delicately taking each other’s pants off, kissing, removing shoes, kissing, then throwing off shirts and kissing. Her white bra came off easily. We both started for each other’s underwear at the same time.

“You first.”

“No, you.”

“That’s okay, you can do it.”

“No, I can wait.”

We couldn’t help it — we laughed at ourselves, being polite as we were stripping each other for sex.

MP’s slight hips and luxuriant bush pulled me right in as soon as we were on the bed. I tongued her opening and she grabbed my head. “Later, Peter, I want you now.”

She spread her legs and I wet my fingers to lubricate my cock. I was in her in a single thrust. She knew what she liked and we rode each other quickly, first with me on top but soon enough we switched to her riding my cock.

“MP, you are taking me, squeeze me, fuck me, you’re so strong.”

“Push, Peter, push, put it all the way in, I love it.”

She pulled off my cock as far as was possible without losing it, and I was about to grab her hips and pull her down when she started her descent, oh so slowly, stopping to squeeze every half inch or so with her vaginal muscles. Before she was down, she sent me over the edge. As I came she swung back and forth on my cock, in her own world. “Oh yes oh yes, oh oh oh, I’m cumming.” Finally she slowed and fell forward onto me.

“Uh, Kurtköy Escort MP, you ever do this before?”

“Why no, Peter, this is my first time. Did I do it right?”

“You’re okay.”

“Oh thank you for the compliment, Peter. I’m so glad you’ve been honest with me. Will you help me get better?”

“Yes, but there will be a small fee.”

“How much?”

“Not cash, in kind.”

We dissolved into giggles and hugged each other. There was cum all over, but we didn’t care. Eventually I went to the bathroom, peed, and brought a warm washcloth to clean her and the bed.

MP was all Oklahoma. Land rush great-great grandfather, two generations of local business, grandfather went bankrupt in the Depression but stayed. Raised two kids, one of them her father. She was happily a junior at the University of Oklahoma in Norman but felt there might be more to life than being an Okie. Her grades and scholarship got her enough money to afford the cruise, or at least the half-year part that was nearing its end, 12 days from now.

“MP, I’m kind of embarrassed to say that I never knew you existed on the ship. How did I miss you?”

“I’m a bookworm, Peter. I read a lot, for classes and for fun. I’ve dated a couple of the surfer boys and spent the entire time we were in Brazil learning how to surf. But otherwise it’s been read and learn, read and learn.”

“Can I learn some more from you?” I said, perkily, reaching for her breasts.

“Peter, that wore me out. Can we save it for the morning?”

At about five I woke up to a soft, warm mouth on my cock. A quick mental check revealed that it was MP’s mouth, my cock, in a hotel room, in Huancayo, Peru. We started slowly but built to a heart-pounding climax, all conducted quietly lest we wake the neighbors. I came as MP pulled me into her time and again with one of her heels in the crack of my ass.

Janet and Marjorie were distinctly cold to us, but Mike and Debby saw nothing amiss. Marcos took us around the city, showing us the local markets, the seventeenth-century cathedral, and the cocoa farms which drove the economy. On the train ride back to Lima we again marveled at the steep drop-offs from the cog railroad.

When we got back on board the ship that night, MP refused my request that she spend the night with me.

“I don’t know Marjorie, but Janet is a really nice girl. We more than get along, we enjoy each other’s company. I didn’t do anything I haven’t done with my roommate at school, but she doesn’t understand the etiquette. I want to make it square with her, so I’m going to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

She paused, then said “but tomorrow night, if you want . .”

MP and I would be lovers the rest of the voyage. She was a wanton woman in the best sense of the word, very knowledgeable about what she wanted and liked and willing to give the same consideration to her lover. When she showed up at the final session of my “World Studies” class and motioned to her crotch, I just told them all good-bye and headed for my cabin.

Acapulco was our last port. It was the chance for the students to unwind and party. Nearly a hundred left the ship there to head for their schools’ next semester. The night before we talked about what we wanted to do there.

“I’m still feeling bad about how I chased Janet out of our room in Huancayo, Peter. I’ve decided that she and I will go off and just be together. Her parents have some friends who have a condo there and want to show her the countryside, and I’m going to tag along. It’s a chance to see something I’ll probably never see again.”

“What about us?” I heard in my voice the plaintive sound of someone being politely excused from a relationship.

“I’ll be back, Peter, and we’ll be together again. Janet’s my good friend. I’m not going to dump her.”

MP was gone for three days. When she came back we took up again. We sat holding hands in the final assembly the night before we docked in Long Beach. In the awards part, MP was announced as the winner of the “Cruise Scholar Award” for highest grades, best attitude, and most impressive academic writing.

I was assigned some small tasks to do after lunch, before the last students departed, to help prepare the ship for departure in four days. I wouldn’t be off until the final wave, around 3 o’clock. MP, on the other hand, was scheduled to debark in the second wave, at 9 in the morning.

Around ten that night we made love very sweetly, with no big explosions of passion. Afterward, she went back to her cabin to pack and be ready for breakfast and departure.

I had no idea who it was knocking on my cabin door at 9 o’clock.

“Can I come in, Peter?”

“Oh, sure, Janet. Here, sit down,” and I motioned to the chair.

“I’d like to ask you a favor, Peter. MP says she’s never met anybody who is as well-read and insightful as you are.”

I was thunderstruck. Sure, MP and I had talked a lot about a lot of things, but this seemed a wild exaggeration. Still, I blushed and said “why, thank you.”

“I don’t Maltepe Escort think I have been exposed to anything like the books I should have read. Will you give me a list of ten books that I should read?”


“Sure, why not?” Janet had clearly pysched herself up to visit me and was not about to back down.

“Well, let’s see,” and for the next half hour I rummaged through my head and talked out loud about what to include on the list. Janet had a pad and pen and took notes. We revised it several times, adding and subtracting, until we had the ten:

The Bible (as literature and history, not religion) Shakespeare, King Lear Shakespeare, Hamlet Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography The Letters of Abigail Adams Plato’s Dialogues Herman Melville, Moby Dick Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist The diaries of Anaïs Nin

She had heard of all the books except the Nin. She had read Lear and Moby Dick but didn’t understand what they meant.

“Who’s Anaïs Nin?” she asked.

“She’s the only one on the list who’s still alive. Here, read the page where the bookmark is.”

I hadn’t been able to find this book in New York, but I bought a copy when we were in London. It was a thrilling piece of autobiography and erotic literature at the same time. The bookmark was where I had read to MP the second night we slept together on the boat.

Janet had turned bright red as she read the page. She closed the book well before she could have finished the page.

“Why did you give me this?”

“For the same reason I would give it to anyone who wants to learn something. It’s not necessarily your experience, even what you will ever experience, but it exists. In this case, what she writes about is what is at the base of our understanding of our sexual selves.”

She digested this blather.

“MP said something else about you.”

“Oh? What?”

“That, that — that I should, uh, well, . . .”

I let her compose herself.

“She said I should go to bed with you.”

“Janet, that’s probably the most flattering thing anybody’s ever said to me. I mean it. Not MP, you.”

I stood up and took her in my arms and kissed her. She kissed me back.

“When do you debark?” I asked.

“11:30. But I’m all packed.”

“Janet, we need much more time than that. Are you leaving LA for somewhere today?”

“No. Stacy’s invited me to stay with her as long as I want. I don’t have to be back at college until the middle of February.”


“Yes. She’s the one whose father had that TV show a couple of years ago. She lives in Hollywood. Her mother was also an actress.”

“Oh yes, I know her, sure.”

“What about you?”

I have to be back in New York three weeks from today, but I want to see as much of the West Coast as I can. I don’t have much money so I’m going to hitchhike. I have a friend who has a house in West Los Angeles, wherever that is. He and his girlfriend said I could crash there for as long as I’m going to be in town.”

We looked at each other in silent contemplation. I spoke first.

“When I get to Mike’s house tonight, I’ll call you at Stacy’s. Would you stay with me?”

“Yes. I think so.” Then, “Yes, yes I will.”

When I asked for Janet, the housekeeper didn’t know who I meant, but soon Janet was on the phone. Mike’s map of Los Angeles showed that she wasn’t much more than half an hour away. She would take a cab in the morning and be there around ten.

At ten Janet stepped out of a nice Ford sedan. “Stacy loaned me one of her mother’s cars. She said I can use it for as long as I want. I just have to pay for gas.”

“Did you tell her where you were going to be?”

Janet blushed. “Yes.”

“And why?”

She blushed deeper. “Yes.”

We moved the car into the driveway. Mike and his girlfriend had more than enough room there. I called him to confirm that it was okay for an extra car and he said sure.

Janet had a small bag with her. We put it on the chair in the room where I was staying. The foldout couch and two overstuffed chairs in the extra bedroom were quite comfortable.

I had looked up Janet’s entry in the student handbook. She was a junior at Florida State University and lived in Tampa. I had been losing my taste for seducing, educating, and shedding virgins for some time, and meeting MP was a watershed: she made me think about a longer-term relationship. Even though I knew Janet was not going to last, I wanted to make good on something MP wanted to happen.

We talked for an hour, sitting on the couch. Janet curled her legs under her and faced me. She was surprisingly badly educated for someone in college. Her language skills were good, she had made some effort during the voyage, and she was attractive, but she just hadn’t read anything worthwhile. What MP saw in her was not what I saw, except perhaps for her perkiness and enthusiasm for sports.

What I found attractive was her body. She stood about 5-feet-6, with brown hair to her shoulders. She had a pleasantly Tuzla Escort long face. Her complexion was perfect, her breasts reasonably sized, and, like her, seemed perky.

The conversation was lagging and I sensed that Janet might be reconsidering following MP’s advice. I stood up and extended my hand to her. She rose in one movement and stood squarely in front of me.

We kissed and I pulled her ass toward me. She followed willingly.

“Does my beard tickle?”

“Yes. You smell like — “

“Bacon and eggs?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“That’s what I had for breakfast.” She laughed.

“May I take your shirt off, Janet?” I asked.

“If I can do the same to you, yes,” she said. Her eyes were aglow. Perhaps I had misjudged her.

We didn’t stop at shirts but soon stood naked in front of each other.

I pulled the cushions off the convertible and opened it. I’d made the bed with fresh sheets, a blanket, and two pillows. I drew her down on the bed and we lay facing each other.

“Are you taking anything for birth control, Janet?”

“No, but MP and Stacy each told me how to figure out whether I would get pregnant. My period’s due in the next day or three. I’ll be fine.”

We kissed greedily now, knowing that we were going to make love. Janet’s kissing was pretty good and she had some experience with handling cock, which she deployed. I slid my wetted finger into her pussy and she wiggled.

“Like that?”

“Oh boy, yes.”

I sought out her clit and found it proudly unhooded. When I moved to tongue it, Janet inhaled sharply, and I stopped.

“That’s where I, uh — “



“And I pee out of my cock, Janet. Our sex organs do double duty — saves space.” She giggled, thank goodness.

I returned to her clit with no objection and soon she was humping against my face. I inserted two fingers in her pussy and asked if I was hurting her.

“No, but MP said to make sure you stretched me before — “

“I will.”

Three fingers all the way in and still no pain. Janet was humping against me as I interchanged pussy and clit stroking. She was breathing heavily with encouraging “mmmmm”s and running her fingers through my hair as I decided it was time to enter her.

Her legs were very tense, so instead I lay down to her left and kissed her left leg inside and out and stroked her pussy. I told her how beautiful the view was from my perspective: her vaginal lips were glistening, her public hair was so wavy, the cleft of her ass was smooth and classical.

It had the desired effect. Her breathing slowed and her soft “oh”s and “ah”s as I touched her pussy were soft. I moved between her legs again without encountering her tension.

I had her bring her knees up and I parted them sufficiently to give me access to her pussy.

“We’re going to make love, Janet. I need you to help me put my cock in your pussy. Here,” I said, and placed her right hand on my shaft. “Guide me in.”

My wet fingers lubricated the head of my cock and I moved my hips forward. Janet adjusted herself as though she had a gyroscope, placing her opening perfectly for me. The head was completely inside her before she said, “Oh, that hurts,” and I pulled back.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, just go slowly, I don’t want it to hurt.”

I slid in further and was almost half way buried in her pussy when she said “ouch, that hurts.”

I stopped, withdrew slightly, and looked searchingly at her face. She was sweating and licking her lips. Her expression was of concern and excitement, not real pain and certainly no fear.

“We’re almost there, lover, I’m going to finish,” I said, and moved forward slowly but resolutely. Two thrusts and I was completely in.

“Oh damn, that hurts, don’t hurt me any more, please Peter.”

“We’re together now, Janet. There won’t be any more pain. Take a deep breath for me,” and she did. I saw relief replace pain on her face. I stroked in and out twice and now she knew why she was here.

“Wow, that’s nice. Can you do some more?”

“More and more. Dance with me, Janet, lift your hips when I come in, drop down when I slide back.” She caught the motion in a couple of thrusts and grabbed my back as we rocked.

I was getting pretty excited when she suddenly said “oh oh oh” and humped up against me. I increased my movement and said “I’m cumming Janet, oh Janet, here it comes” and pumped into her.

“Yes Peter yes that’s so good so good yes yes OOOOO” and her hips smashed against mine.

I crashed onto her and rolled to the side, careful to keep us connected. Our sweat mixed on our chests as our juices mixed in her pussy.

Our panting slowly subsided and she opened her eyes to me.

“Did you just do that to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know.”

“I do, but I want you to say it.”

“FUCK, YOU FUCKED ME” she shouted, joyous at the words coming out of her mouth. “I JUST GOT FUCKED.”

“Yes you did. Did you enjoy it?”

“More than anything I’ve ever done, Peter. MP was right, I’m so glad you — “


“I’m so glad you were the first one,” she said shyly.

My cock was softening and Janet felt it. “Is it okay?”

“Yes, I’ve cum and now it gets soft. But you can bring it back if you like.”

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