Free Erotic Stories

The Uniform Affect (Fiction? Or is it?)

I took the advice, got a comfy shore billet, and signed up for a master?s degree program. The way my classes were scheduled, I was forced to head to school right after work, having just enough time to drive to the local campus. Of course, I wore my uniform, which I was proud of.

My course schedule in the first trimester included two classes, three nights a week. Well, the first night in class was surprisingly interesting. I was now in my mid-twenties. I knew I wasn?t old. I knew I didn?t look old. I was fit and trim and felt great. But when I walked into the class, I couldn?t believe the number of students that were six years my junior and how young they looked. Really young.

Half the students were young women, and I totally under-estimated how impressionable some of them could be. As I went to find an empty chair, about six of the ladies started whispering and exchanging glances. Two of them decided to move from across the room, and sit next to me. Immediately, they started chatting me up with small talk, and well, I loved being the center of attention.

Unfortunately, the professor showed up on time, and he got the course underway with the typical discussion of curriculum, project work, deadlines, writing expectations, blah, blah, blah. I took good notes, because I felt a little intimidated to be back in college, and figured I better pay attention.

Ten minutes into that first night, the door opened abruptly, and a young co-ed came into the class. Her hair was soaking wet. Her face was flushed, rosy-cheeked and eyes a bit glassy looking. She had on baggy shorts, and her top was, well her top was the top of a neon green, one-piece bathing suit that she wore under her shorts. I noticed that her running shoes were grass-stained.

She apologized breathlessly, hurried down the row of chairs next to me, toward the back of the class, where she promptly plopped down, folded her hands in front of her and said, ?Whew. Olivia!? looking at the professor. ?Olivia Wilson [name changed to protect me and her].?

The professor, stuffy and stereotypical, pontificated some lame statement about promptness, sarcastically thanked her for interrupting, and continued with his litany of expectations.

This was going to be a great class. I could tell. No kidding. Not because of the professor. He was an ass clown to be sure. But Olivia had smitten me. She was very unkempt, and lacked a bit of taste in her clothing (or so I thought in the beginning), but she was also an angel in disguise.

She really didn?t have any of the typical beauty queen traits. She wasn?t deeply tanned. She had many freckles across the top of her nose, and on her chest and shoulders. She was sweaty looking. Did I see grass clippings on her legs? Yes I did. In fact, she had dirty sweat streaks on her legs. But her face! Oh her face. She was so child-like, and yet so classically smooth with a woman?s beauty. Cherry lips, smooth and taut.

At a glance, it seemed to me that she might also have an attractive ass under the baggie shorts. There was no question she had attractive breasts. I could just see two vague little bumps where her nipples were straining under her swimsuit top. I found her attractive indeed. Sensual, but not provocative.

After that first lecture, I was inundated with attention from the other girls. What?s that medal for? What rank are you? What is it that you do? Do you kill people? It was fun to say the least, but I was interested in Olivia. Can?t really tell you why, but she?s the one that caught my attention.

I pushed my way past the crush of female groupies just as Olivia ducked out the classroom door. I yelled at her just before she left the building, ?Olivia! Hey there!?

She turned, looked at me as if she were in a rush, and she said, ?didn?t have enough of a fan club so you called me back with thirty pounds of books in my arms??

?Sorry, let me take those, and I?ll walk you to your car.?

?No thanks.?

?Really, let me help.? I didn?t have a plan of attack on what to say to her, and seeing that I had flustered her, I figured it was the least I could do.

I helped her to her car, an old Buick Cutlass, late 70?s vintage. A classic really, but way out of vogue now a days. It was beat up pretty bad. Missing hubcaps. Rust. Dents. Trim falling off. I didn?t say anything to her, but she caught my critical eye, and she said, ?it?s paid for.?

?Hey, it?s a classic,? I parried.

?Thanks for toting my books. Gotta go.?

?Sure, uh, you?re welcome.?

I didn?t want the conversation to end, so I asked, ?you a lifeguard somewhere??

?Huh?,? she replied.

?The swimsuit. I figured you were a lifeguard.?

?Oh, I gotch ya. No, I mow lawns. I cut grass for the school. I cut grass in this swimsuit. Just so happened today, that I was running late, and the sprinkler system turned on too. Soaked me.?

?Now I get it. Well, see you Thursday night.?

So, my first night of college ended, and I felt like I was on to something here. It was going to be fun to meet women. Very fun.

My next class of the week was a one-night-a-week kind, and I went to it with a bit of spring in my step. I was really looking forward to it ? girls. Lots of co-eds to fuss over me and my uniform. Cool.

So, I walked in, enjoyed some of the commotion that I had experienced the night before, and settled in to wait for the professor.

Well, she came in just as it was time to start the class, and I could tell this was going to be a very interesting class. Easy to pay attention to the professor, but maybe not to pay attention to what she was saying. She was easily 15-years older than I was. Probably early forties, but she was incredibly good looking. She didn?t have particularly big breasts, but they were very well shaped, and they looked very good on her body. She had an hour-glass figure, and her tan spoke of gardening or golf. I couldn?t tell which, but I hoped it was gardening. I preferred folksy women, much more so than hip-hoppers or beach bunnies.

Anyway, I noticed throughout her two-hour introductory course, that she kept checking me out, much the same way the co-ed students did. If I wasn?t misinterpreting things, I detected a bit of attraction on her part towards me.

Now, I think there must be something latent about my high school days in the things that were about to unfold, because, I found myself fascinated by the way Doctor Girardeau moved, handled paper, read, called on hands, everything. She was a woman in charge, but did so with elegance and gentleness. I was always infatuated with pretty high school teachers. I was already fantasizing about her.

The way she looked at me told me that there might be something going on with her too. Did professors really get involved with their students in college? Was that legal? Was it sexy for them? For women professors too? I wondered.

After class ended, I endured a couple of co-eds and their usual yippy questions, and kept noticing that Doctor G- hadn?t left yet. She kept shuffling, and re-shuffling papers, occasionally stealing a glance in my direction.

I finally excused myself from the girls, who trotted off giggling, and the professor said, ?Lieutenant, have a moment??

She was the first person in college who understood my rank insignia, and I walked up and told her so.

?You?re not the first officer to be in one of my classes. Just wanted to tell you that I really like to see uniforms in the class.?

?Thanks. I rush over here right after work. No time to change.?

She had an odd expression on her face, looked down as she shuffled some papers a third time and said, ?I?m having a little get together on Saturday, my place. A few close friends. Love to see you there. No doubt you?ll add some interesting conversation to our evening.?

?Ah hah!?, I thought to myself. There was something going on here. I was intrigued and flattered.

I accepted graciously. She wrote her address and phone number down, and said to be there by eight in the evening. She lived on campus, on a street named ?professor?s row?.

?Can I bring anything?? I asked.

?Oh, one of your favorite wines would be nice. Maybe something to drink with desert, and oh,? leaning forward she lowered her voice and asked, ?would you wear your uniform too. It?d be a nice point of conversation for my other guests. Patriots you know.?

I thought the uniform question a little odd, but hey, why not. I?ve worn it to other social gatherings to sort of show the flag to the public. I cheerfully said, ?Sure. See you Saturday then.? I turned to leave the room, when she said, ?you know Lieutenant, I usually don?t invite anyone under the rank of Commander. Consider yourself special.?

I smiled, saluted, and said, ?well, I?m glad you?re a doctor, because I don?t usually accept invitations from professors.?

?Touche,? she said wryly, and saluted me back.

Now, I really liked this college thing. I mused about what it would be like later in the Spring when our uniforms would shift to summer whites. I had some other first hand experience with their affect on women, and couldn?t wait for the possibilities on a college campus.

Thursday night school time came, and once again, Olivia came in a flustered rush, only just barely late this time, and she hustled to her seat in the back row. This time we exchanged glances. Did I see a hint of a smile too?

After class, there was less of a throng of ladies. I wasn?t paying them enough attention I guess, and well, the uniform thing must have been wearing off too. Good.

I asked Olivia if I could help her to her car again, and she said sure. We didn?t exchange phone numbers. We didn?t talk about dating. We just small-talked.

Most of the time she wouldn?t look me in the eyes, but when she did, they were brilliant blue. Sparkling, full of a natural beauty. She wore no make-up, and her day?s work looked very nice on her indeed. My stomach did flip-flops when she smiled, and, well, I really wanted to ask her out or something, but found myself afraid she?d say no. She also gave me little signals that confused me. Things like, ?well, I gotta run. Need to go now.? She was preoccupied. It didn?t seem to me causing it all, but, well, I thought it odd, and tried not to worry about it.

Funny how things are sometimes. I knew I could ask any of the other college bimbo-girls out on a date, and they?d say yes, and probably jump my bones too, but I was more interested in Olivia.

Saturday night came. I rang the good Doctor?s doorbell, and a distinguished looking gentleman in a blazer, no tie, answered the door. I introduced myself, and he said, ?oh yes. Franny said you?d be showing up. He looked at my uniform and smiled, ?She loves those men in uniform,? and shook his head with a big smile, and led me into her house.

Now, to tell you the truth, I was disappointed. Instantly, I figured this guy to be her husband or her live-in. Too bad. It?d be so much more interesting if she was, uhm, unattached.

Well, it turned out that she wasn?t married, nor did she have a live-in. She had invited two other professors and, whom I supposed at the time, were their wives. Since then, I have strong reason to doubt they were married, but that?s another story, for another audience.

I presented Doctor G- my favorite desert wine, a Johannesburg Riesling from South Africa, and made the mistake of calling her ?Doctor?.

Well, she was embarrassed. Her colleagues jeered her, ?so you invited one of your new Navy officer students, and didn?t even present him with your fist name. Franny, come on. By the way, aren?t you robbing the cradle with this one??

She took several good-natured salvos from her friends, but in doing so, I was able to pick up on the fact that it seemed common place for her to invite officers or students over to her get-togethers.

The evening wore on, and to tell you the truth, I had a good time. Everyone was interesting, and our discussions were eclectic. It was fun in a weird sort of way to be hanging with these academics.

Her home was like a museum. Full of mementos from world-traveling. Photographs of Fran standing with people from various nations and walks of life. She was well traveled, and had an obvious touch for decorating in a way that told her life story.

Another thing that I noticed was that Fran had a sensual tone to her decorations. There were several small paintings and drawings of female nudes, discreetly, but publicly displayed. This woman wasn?t afraid of sexuality.

Fran was wearing a surprisingly short skirt. A two-finger skirt. Picture two fingers pointing sideways, just below a woman?s pussy, and that?s how short her skirt was. Very short. She was probably five feet eight inches tall, and her legs were lean, but smooth not chiseled from stone by work-outs.

She was nicely tanned, and was of some Mediterranean descent, Italy or Greece. Maybe Spain. She had dark eyes, long black hair, in tight coils that reached to the middle of her back. Her lips were full and swollen, and needed no cosmetics. Her face was naturally beautiful, and her skin spoke of health and sunshine. She had a shear, white button-up blouse, loosely done in front that revealed her smooth skin and cleavage that was born from her large soft breasts. She wore no bra, and her brown breasts were easy to see through the material. She was dressed to seduce. I wondered.

The other ladies were dressed somewhat provocatively as well, especially for their ages. They were definitely showing a lot of skin and a lot of cleavage. They were good-looking women, and I completely understood their desire and ability to still tease men with their goodies.

The guys? Well, they seemed to be dressed like they owned racing yachts. Navy blue blazers with gold tone buttons. White shirts, no ties. Khaki pants. They were very boring compared to the ladies, who definitely provided some eye candy for us.

But, hey, we did a lot of talking, and along with the talk, there was a lot of wine. I was a bit surprised, and disappointed in myself, when around midnight, as the other couples were leaving, I found myself feeling a bit too tipsy to drive. Her professor buddies were neighbors who also lived on the campus, so they simply walked home, but I lived a good thirty minutes away. I wasn?t going to risk a ?DUI?, so I told Fran that I?d just snooze in the car, and leave when I woke up sober.

Fran, wasn?t feeling any pain either, and she laughed and said, ?Who said I was going to let you go home tonight anyway??

Well that got my attention, and I stood there with a totally stupid grin on my face, that she took as a green light, and she walked up to me, and planted a kiss on me that smelled of wine, perfume and our raspberry chocolate cheesecake desert. It was an intriguing mix that I enjoyed.

We kissed for a good minute or so, and shared some small animal noises; moans and whimpers. This was unexpected, but not unwanted, and I was enjoying this fantasy come true.

Fran whispered and said, ?you?re going to have to work really hard on your paper now. I grade my lovers much stricter than my usual students.?

I didn?t respond to that, but when she said I was her lover, I let my hands go, and started to feel her up. My hands hovered over the narrow of her waist. I could feel her warmth coming through her nearly sheer button-up blouse. Then I moved them down to cup her ass cheeks in each hand.

We continued kissing, and she said, ?take me upstairs.?

I led her up the stairs, wondering where exactly her bedroom might be, when she said, ?down the hall my lover.?

This was getting very interesting, but I had no idea how much better it was about to get.

In her room, there were several scented candles burning, lighting the room with golden apparitions and shifting shadows.

We embraced again, when Fran said, ?undress me. Take my clothes off me.?

She backed away, raised her hands above her head, squeezed her thighs tightly together, closed her eyes and cooed, ?make me naked my lover. Make me naked so I can feel your cold medals and your insignia touching me, and poking me.?

I undid her blouse, slowly, bottom to top, and pulled it back so that it hung open at her shoulders. This revealed her breasts fully, and I could see the soft round of her belly, just below the dark cleft of her navel that was stretched and twisted slightly into the shape of a pussy. She was intoxicating.

Moving behind her, I unzipped her skirt, and let it fall to the floor, and she dutifully stepped out.

Now she was standing before me in a very tiny little thong. I never expected a woman of her age to wear such a thing, but I was glad she was. Her ass was alluring, and the loose-fitting bands of her thong, must have left her with a feeling of near nudity as the loose thong shifted and twisted, brushing her skin as she moved while clothed.

I pulled the thong off of her, and now she had only the wide-open top on her shoulders. She was trimmed, but unshaven, and her pussy hair was tangled and knotted, pitch black, like the hair of her head. She was incredibly sexy.

Back in front of her, I whispered to her, lower your arms, so I can take off your blouse. I want you to feel my warfare pin. ?That was a weird, non-sexy thing to say,? I thought to myself.

She complied with my request, and off came the blouse.

As she stood there, eyes closed, I leaned and stooped down slightly so that my right breast pocket rode at the same elevation as her right nipple. I lightly brushed my gold warfare pin against her nipple and she shuddered, letting out a gasp.

I moved it to the other nipple, and again, she responded, her nipples now erect.

Keep your eyes closed I said, and I walked behind her, and undid my belt buckle, which has a slide and a pin that make a tinny metallic clanking when the other end of the belt is removed. She responded to the sound with a moan, and I rubbed the metal tip of my belt between her ass cheeks.

?Oh. Oh.?

Continuing, I positioned the belt buckle itself so that the belt was tucked between the cheeks of her ass, and the buckle was just under her ass hole. Using two hands to hold the belt taut, I slowly slid the belt up so that the cold buckle brushed her ass hole, and was forced to slide up her derriere.

Again, she whimpered, and for a moment, I thought her knees might buckle.

?Steady Fran. Are you OK??

?I?ve never felt that before. Shit that felt so good.?

I pulled the belt out of the crack of her ass, and while still standing behind her, I wrapped the belt around her, and re-buckled it loosely around her waist, so that the cold buckle hung just above her pussy.

Fran started to sway her hips. I moved her hands back up in the air above her head, and dropped my pants and under wear, standing now with only my uniform shirt on, with my insignia on my collars, and my ribbons and warfare pin on my left breast. My nametag was on my right breast, and I embraced her from behind, so that her shoulder blades made contact with my emblems. My semi-swollen cock was nestled in the crack of her ass, and she moaned.

Now Fran?s hips were starting to push back against me, and my cock, quickly engorged, and became hard and erect. This provoked Fran to really move in earnest.

I enjoyed this for a moment or two, then moved to her front side, and embraced her again.

She was getting a bit desperate sounding, and said, ?Oh shit, I love those medals poking me. I?m so hot. So hot.?

I pulled away from her again, and took my shirt off. The backing stays that hold all the medals on are particularly ?edgey?. In the Navy we called them frogs, and they were round, made of brass, with two little tiny brass wings that we pinched to pull them off of the pins of our ribbons and warfare insignia. I?m glad I always wear a t-shirt when I have my ribbons and warfare pin on. If I was silly enough to try to, after a day of wearing them with no t-shirt, I?d have a lot of tiny little red frog marks, so I figured this would really get Fran in a good mood.

?Keep your eyes closed,? I demanded?, and slipped my shirt over her arms and shoulders, and let it fall against her breasts. I pulled my shift together in the front, and gave Fran a gentle hug.

She cried out, ?Oh shit, I think I?m going to cum. Put me on the bed, quick. Fuck me.?

I laid her back, and she immediately spread her legs, and I crawled straight in. She was very tight; very hot and very wet. My shirt lay loosely open, riding on her breasts, and I began to fuck her in long, deep, slow strokes. I tried to angle things so that the top of my shaft was pressing against her clitoris as I did so.

Fran began to really fuck her hips back at me, and it took no time at all for her to cum in a thunderous climax, grunting and moaning as she did so.

It was more than I could take, and I lost control, and I shot my cum deeply into Fran?s pussy, and kept pumping for all I was worth until finally, I had to stop and collapse onto her.

Well, when I did that, she squealed and said, ?I?m cumming again. You?re medals are poking me again, oh shit that feels sooooooooo goooooooooooood,?

I did what any self-respecting American patriot would do in such circumstances: I went down on her. In the dancing candle light, I caught a glimpse of her spread pussy, and detected it?s slick, wet reflections, and dove my tongue straight into what had to be a mixture of hers and my own love.

With all my energy, I licked away at her clitoris, and again, in just a few moments, Fran came again, heaving and grunting, grinding her pussy into my mouth in great spasms.

I continued my ministrations to her for another five minutes or so, with gentle, loving licks, letting her come down off a huge sexual high, where every fiber of her sexuality was standing on end.

After her commotion subsided, I crawled up to her, and we kissed briefly until she said, ?take this prickly thing off me now. I want to cuddle.?

And we did until we both drifted into sleep.

Next morning, we both woke in each other?s arms, and we simply lay in bed for over an hour talking about nothing in particular. We didn?t talk about the sex we shared, or the unique thrill that she enjoyed. Just talked about nothing.

Later, we shared a non-sexual shower together, ate breakfast in the nude, and power-lounged in the bedroom again, until almost noontime.

At that point I said, ?well, Fran, I?ve got homework to do. I?ve got some bastard professors this trimester, and I?ll have to go the extra mile to impress them with my academic prowess.

Fran smiled, helped me dress, and let me go. We never had sex again. I guess the thrill for her was in the conquest of a military man. For me, I never enjoyed being so used.

As for Olivia, well, one evening after I helped her to her car, it wouldn?t start. She became a bit frantic. It was obvious that she wasn?t worried about the car, as much as being worried about something else.

I offered to give her a ride home, and she first said no, then said, ?well, I need to go somewhere else first.?

?Let?s go,? I said, and we drove off.

Olivia needed to go to her parent?s house first to pick something up.

?No problem,? I responded.

Well, I followed her directions, and she guided me into a very large gated estate. Turned out her Daddy, was a CEO for a major Fortune 500 company. She apologized quickly for the grandeur of her parent?s home, ducked out of the car, and was back in about three minutes.

She was carrying her little boy of about three years old. He was fast asleep.

She explained that her parents loved her little boy, and watched him while she worked and went to school.

As I drove off to her apartment, she looked over at me in the dark. I could see the vague outline of her face in the green glow of my instrument lights and she said, ?I owe you an explanation.?

?No you don?t Olivia. You?re fine. No need to say anything to me.?

?Yes I do. This is Andy. His Daddy was in the Navy. A sailor. A loser too. He abandoned us a couple years back, and we?ve since divorced. Now it?s me and Andy.?

I felt strangely sad. She spoke as if there was no room for me. I didn?t add to her burden, so I said, ?really, Olivia, it?s your business. I was glad to help you in your distress.?

?Wait,? she said, ?there?s more. My parents are really angry with me because I wont accept their financial help. Well, I let Mom watch Andy when I go to school, but they?re pissed at me for working. I?m not sure why, but I?m hell bent to make it on my own.?

I looked at her.

?I?m gonna make it on my own. I?m not ready for another man in my life. Especially a Navy man. I?m gonna take care of this boy. I?m his Mom, and no one?s going to run out on him or me again, and . . .?

I stopped her and said, ?Olivia, you?re one in a million. I admire you for that.? I felt a strange mix of sadness and longing for her - the college yard lady.

Well, we continued to talk at school, and developed a strong friendship. I had hoped something would come of our friendship, but it seemed that she couldn?t get past the uniform.

We?d talk and she?d look at my uniform and say, ?bad memories.?

Then, one day I said, ?Olivia, if I left the Navy, do you think we?d have a chance?? She threw her arms around me, smelled of lawnmower and gasoline, smiled deeply into my eyes and asked, ?when are you ever going to tell me that you love me? You big lug!!!? Her eyes were afire, sparkling and full of happiness. My soul melted into her smiling face, and said, ?Olivia, I do love you.?