THE PUSSY CHRONICLES: GIRL REPORTER

Things could not have been any worse. I just graduated from a prestigious university in New York State with a degree in journalism. I wanted to write for a major newspaper, covering world events. The problem was it was the '50's and most, okay, all newspaper editors didn't think it was a job a girl could do.

I was pissed, and even in that era, that was a term I used and used a lot.

When I was young, my father washed my mouth out with soap because of my language. Language, I learned from him, a WW II veteran. My mother said numerous times, "Holly, you need to act and talk like a lady." That pissed me off, too.

My name is Holly Pelligrino. I learned to swear in Italian, too. That way only my family knew what I was saying. My dad washed my mouth out for swearing in Italian, too.

My advisor in college talked the editor of a small newspaper in Erie, Pennsylvania to hire me. Well, he talked the editor, into hiring me because I fucked that advisor.

Yes, it was the 50's and my high school and college girlfriends freely admitted that they were saving themselves for marriage. Not me. Junior year in college I started dating Rocco Gianelli. My parents thought he was god's gift. I thought his cock was god's gift. He thought my pussy, and eventually my mouth were god's gift.

So, when I complained and whined to my advisor, he tried to console me. "Professor Mann, I'll do anything. I may be a girl, but I can write. You know that."

"Holly, you were one of my best students, but you need to understand the realities of the modern world, but if you really mean you'll do anything . . .

"Anything." I wasn't thinking anything anything. Professor Mann must have been over fifty.

"Why don't we discuss this over a glass of wine at my apartment tonight?"

Now I understood. I smiled. "Professor, I think that's a marvelous idea. Shall we say, 7 o'clock?"

I've seen the way girls dress when they go out at night today. I thought I dressed sexy; sexy for the 1950's, but no one would think it was sexy today. My blouse was one size smaller than usual; it looked like my 34CCs were popping out and it was low cut; showing off some cleavage. My skirt was knee length; almost scandalous.

Professor Mann met me at the door with a glass of wine. How thoughtful. Maybe he thought he'd have to get me drunk to take advantage of me. He didn't. If he'd get me a job at a newspaper, I'd willingly jump in bed with him.

An hour later, after the professor had called the editor of the Erie newspaper, Jonathan Albright, we were in bed and I was thanking him with my mouth.

While dating Rocco Gianelli, I'd become very talented if I do say so myself. To Rocco's credit, he gave me lots of opportunities to practice. He didn't have to talk me into it, and neither did Professor Mann.

"Hmmmmm, hmmmmmm, hmmmmmm," I sucked. It was relatively easy compared to Rocco's long, fat Italian sausage. By that I meant, I could take all of it in my mouth.

I would have gladly swallowed his cum, however, "Holly, you are marvelous, maybe another time you can finish, but I haven't made love to a girl your age since I was your age."

Earlier, I'd taken off my bra for him, now I took off my sexy garter belt and stockings. Given my ancestry, you probably know that I had to shave my legs just about every day.

As for my pussy, unlike girls today, who I understand shave or wax it all off, back then girls didn't do much. I had a big thick black bush. You might have thought I had a huge black pussy cat sitting between my legs.

Once I was naked, I got back in bed and spread my legs. "Professor, after sucking your cock, my pussy is so ready."

I think he was shocked by my language. Remember, he said he wanted to make love to me. He didn't say he wanted to fuck me. Rocco fucked me; he didn't make love to me. I fucked him, too.

"Ummm, I'd love to taste you first."

I giggled. "You mean you'd like to eat my pussy. Oh professor, it's all yours." I spread my legs farther apart.

Rocco occasionally licked my pussy, but he didn't seem all that enthused and I never had an orgasm.

Now, fifty-three-year-old Professor Ronald Mann was between my legs and I was experiencing something I rarely experienced with Rocco.

His tongue gave me an orgasm. I was going nuts on his tongue. Then, it happened again. "Holly, you have the tastiest pussy I've ever eaten."

I thought he was just saying that. I was okay with that. I was in another world. "You need to fuck me, Professor."

"Oh, I'm going to Holly, but I can't get enough of your taste."

I laughed. "Professor, I won't be offended if you tell me you enjoy eating my pussy. In fact, I'd be thrilled."

"You are a treasure, Holly. Yes, your pussy is delicious. There I said it."

"Thank you, Professor." If possible I spread my legs even farther apart. "Your tongue is welcome to it."

"You mean my tongue is welcome to your delightful pussy again." Professor Mamm started again.

I didn't leave until the next day. We fucked and I finished the blowjob I'd started last night. "Are you in a hurry?"

"No, why?"

"Why don't you take a shower? I'd love another taste of your pussy."

"Oh, Professor Mann, you really do like to eat me? I'll be back shortly."

Until I moved to Erie, I had a date with Professor Mann every weekend. To be honest, my mouth had a date with his cock. My pussy had a date with his cock. His tongue had a date with my pussy. His tongue had a date with my pussy more times than I count. Often more times than I could count in one night. Do you remember there was commercial for potato chips or something? "I'll bet you can't eat just one." That's how Professor Mann tongue was on my pussy.

It happened just a few times, but it was the most incredible thing. Professor Mann's tongue would be doing me and doing me, and suddenly he'd stop. "Holly, you're not going to believe what eating your luscious pussy does to me." He stood up, his cock could not have been any harder. I mean it had been in my mouth a number of times, but I was certain he was harder than ever, and then just like that, he started to spray all over the bed. He came without even touching it. He came from eating my twenty-two-year-old pussy.

I'd thought he was just sweet talking me when he told me I had a sweet pussy. But now . . .

On the other hand, I'd already given it to him. He ate and ate. Like I said, it only happened a few times. It was marvelous. Erie was a disaster.

TO BE CONTINUED