Or should I? I scan the crowd, and notice a familiar face among the graduating students. The face of Wanda Bernard, my former girlfriend. Ah, Wanda. ...o fine, so smart, and almost always angry and suspicious of those around her. She calls it vigilance. I call it paranoia. We’ve got quite a history together, you know. I met Wanda during Orientation Day freshman year. The tall, pretty-faced, delightfully curvy, caramel-skinned young woman was the daughter of James Bernard, the Dean of Students.. All the while, my right hand clicks furiously on the left button of the mouse -- trying to find a pornographic scene that I am satisfied will put me over the top. A scene that is not too long but not too short. A scene that will not only keep my dick hard but also make me so hot, that I will cum like I have never cum before. After clicking through several porn scenes of various genres of perversions, I become frustrated by the lack of hardcore splooge inspiring clips -- not to mention the pain. I sniffed, feeling like I was going to fucking cry again! I rocked back and forth, lowering my face into her fragrant hair and taking a shuddering breath. She put her arms around me and patted my back comfortingly, “Tom, what’s the matter?” I didn’t answer, resolving to hold her until I felt better. Surprisingly, it didn’t take long, the knowledge that she was mine and that she wouldn’t leave me over something as stupid as this misunderstanding, was reassuring. I had calmed down enough. Christine smiled; I guess she knew I was wet behind the ears for all I was 18. “Come on let’s get a coffee.” She walked away and I followed looking her up and down. Christine was your average girl, about 5’ 4” slim her tight short black skirt hugged her arse showing her panty line or VPL the women call it. It’s odd they try not to show it but don’t realise how much it excites a guy even now when I am walking down the street or sitting in my car and see a nice arse in a tightly clad skirt or.