I’m a physicist at a university lab in New Mexico, and the back porches of some of the students here are like hemispheric works of art and science.

Red beans and rice didn’t miss them. I like their buoyancy and resistance to impact. I like the way they pop like twin moons over the horizon of the denim shorts they’re shimmying out of.

And while it gives me great satisfaction to pull out of a perfectly shaved, uplifted pussy and blow my load on the taut, smooth, flexed ass of a woman who dutifully rides her bike to school, I never once thought, Hey, why don’t I fuck her in the ass? Because even when I’d hit that spot by mistake in the past, both my partner and I would jump away like a cat from a full bathtub. Then I met Angela.

Angela is a 26-year-old postdoc student from Columbia who came with an impressive group of international students to work in our lab. Angela had great research chops and was impressed with my shitty Spanish. She was also a tight 5’3” with great curves and a pixie haircut that somehow drew my attention directly to her mouth. A mouth which, after a half hour of working with her, I began to imagine wrapped around my dick.

Shortly after she arrived, Angela invited me over to her place for dinner. Like all post-grads, she was staying in one of the shitty apartments on campus, and when I got to her building, I realized it one of the residences I’d lived in years before. As I climbed the stairs to her place, I was greeted with the familiar scuttling lizards. In the lab, Angela wore T-shirts and jeans, which is exactly how I was dressed standing in her doorway. But tonight she was three inches taller in heels that emphasized her toned legs, most of which I could see by virtue of her lime-green minidress. She greeted me with a full kiss on the mouth, pressing her breasts into my stomach, as if we’d been fucking for months.

“This is perfect,” I said, looking around in disbelief at her fixed-up apartment, remembering my own days of squalor. “I can’t believe what you did with a student apartment. They normally look pretty shabby. I lived like an animal.”

“Men don’t grow up until they are in their mid-thirties,” Angela said. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight,” I said.

“You’ll be okay,” she said with a wink.

We proceeded to have an excellent and intoxicating meal on her little balcony, between the whiskey I’d brought and the Cuban cigars this fascinating woman produced. About halfway through, she kicked off her heels and lazily rested her legs on my lap, and I just as casually stroked them as we talked, lingering now and then, squeezing here and there, occasionally going higher, pushing up the hem of her minidress.

As a somewhat bookish fellow, my natural inclination is to not pay attention to the possibility of sex until it literally sits on my face. But I’d learned enough in my ten years of non-virginity that when a woman touches you with her breasts and rests her legs on your lap, she’ll be insulted if you pretend not to notice. So I lifted up Angela’s calves, turned my seat to face her, and said, “Why don’t you come sit on my lap?”

“I think I will do that,” she smiled, her accent a little more pronounced as she got up from her seat, straddled me, and lightly sat down on the pleasantly-straining crotch of my jeans. I could tell she wasn’t wearing panties, and my hands completed their journey up her thighs and under her dress, squeezing her firm, naked ass.

“Maybe you can fuck me fast now, and slow later?” she said, and I couldn’t have agreed more. She pressed her still-clothed breasts to my face. They were warm like cinnamon bread. I rose to carry her back inside but she stopped me.

“I felt her pussy give forth on my already soaked legs.”

“Fuck me on the balcony,” she said. “I want you in my ass.”

“Your ass?” I said, unconvinced.

“But fuck my pussy first, to get your cock wet,” she said. She was grinding on my crotch as if her ass were not connected to the rest of her body. It moved up and down almost hypnotically.

I managed to get my pants past my knees and, still sitting, let her grind her warm, wet slit up and down the underside of my shaft. She bent to kiss me and I could smell the whiskey on her breath, her lips earthy from the cigar. Puddles of her wetness coursed down my balls and onto the seat as I steadied my cock with my hand to allow her to lower herself onto it. Then I was in, and Angela continued that slow, heavy motion.

After several minutes of fucking — and my girl was controlling the exchange at all times, squeezing my cock with her pussy — as much as I didn’t want to switch holes, I also knew that I didn’t want this smoking firecracker to get off my lap, ever. So at the top of a stroke, I cradled her ass in my left hand while I arranged myself just within the ring of her hovering asshole.

Angela gasped, caught her breath, breathed out heavily. Were there neighbors on the opposite balconies? I didn’t fucking care.

She ever-so-slowly eased her way down, and I was hooked. Not only could I feel a heat and a tightness I’d never felt before, but when she stopped to rest, her body fully engulfing my shaft, I could slowly insert fingers into her pussy, experiencing the otherworldly sensation of touching my cock through the thinnest of walls. She rested her forehead on mine as we both instinctively began grinding together, slowly working our way into what became a frenzy.

Not wanting to come, I thought of whiteboards full of figures. I thought of grant applications. I thought of the sweaty grounds crew on campus. I fucked Angela’s ass like I was going down with the ship. I felt her quiver and shudder, and then felt her pussy give forth on my already soaked legs.

“You come in me now,” she growled.

“You come in me.” Something in Spanish. Something unintelligible.

“Here I am,” I said, wondering what had become of my own language. I rocketed jets of come into her asshole, and she grabbed me as she let her quivering body settle on mine, her muscles still twitching around my cock.

Angela and I managed to make it off the chair for our next session, and for several dates thereafter. In addition to all our deep conversations about physics, the improvement of my Spanish, and my finally just ruining that lime-green minidress one night, Angela taught me to stop worrying and learn to love the ass.

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