It was my senior year of college, and I’d already finished my required courses for my major, so I decided to expand my horizons.

Learn new things, pick up classes I’d never considered. My course load for fall semester consisted of Tap Dance 101, Intro to Ethnography, Gender and Sexuality, and Intro to Beekeeping.

Gender and Sexuality might seem like a weird choice for a twenty-two-year-old dude who plays Ultimate Frisbee, but I have three sisters who love harping at me about feminism. I was already a self-proclaimed feminist — mostly because I knew it was the right thing to do — but I admittedly didn’t know that much about it.

Well, it was an eye-opener. Lots of sad stuff about oppression and abuse, the patriarchy, and all that, but I also learned some cool historical facts. (Did you know the suffragettes practiced jiu-jitsu for self-defense?) As a bonus, the class was full of hot women. That’s not the most progressive thing to admit, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t notice.

Carly caught my eye from week one. She had flaming red hair, a slamming body, and strong opinions. By the time midterms came around, I was crushing on her so hard it wasn’t funny.

I had the confidence to ask her over for a study session one night. I didn’t expect her to jump on my dick or anything, but I figured if there was chemistry, maybe we could go out for drinks sometime.

She showed up at my newly cleaned dorm room with a pile of notes and a pizza. My dream girl. We studied for a few hours, and our conversation was lively and spiced with flirtation. Tension pulsed between us, that kind of raw physical energy that told me we’d be dynamite in the bedroom.

The conversation turned to sex and feminism, and I brought up something I’d been wondering about. “Consent is obviously important,” I said. “I get that. But now I’m hearing about affirmative consent. What’s that?”

“It just means both parties have to clearly say or indicate yes. So just silence isn’t affirmative consent.”

“How do you bring that kind of thing up, though? It seems weird to interrupt a hookup to ask about consent.”

Carly laughed. “You can do it without being weird about it. It just takes some creativity.” She eyed me speculatively, and it was hard not to squirm under that hot gaze. “Here, let me show you. Stand up.”

I shot to my feet faster than a Jack-in-the-Box. My dick started to harden, and I willed it down. She wasn’t going to ask me if I wanted to fuck her, was she? Because if so, hell to the fucking yes.

“Now,” she said, standing in front of me, “consent doesn’t have to be some awkward question. It can be dirty talk.”

My dick stood fully at attention at that. I clasped my hands in front of me in an effort to disguise my erection.

She glanced down at my hands, and when she looked back up, her eyes shone with mischief. “So, let’s say we were in a sexual situation. I might say, ‘I’ve been fantasizing about your cock for months.’”

I almost choked. “Er, uh, that’s great.”

She rolled her eyes. “Clearly you have never done dirty talk.”

That was true, but I wasn’t about to let her get the best of me. I cleared my throat and tried to think of something hot. “So then I’d say, ‘That’s perfect, because I’ve been wondering how your pussy tastes.’”

She sucked in a breath, and her nipples hardened under her tank top. I’d already checked the outlines — she wasn’t wearing a bra. “And I’d say, ‘I want you to taste it, but first I want to touch you and see if you’re as big and hard as I imagined. Can I take off your pants?’”

“Yes,” I said instantly, then backpedaled. “I mean, I would say yes. In this hypothetical scenario.”

She grinned, sly as a cat, and stepped forward. Her hand landed on the button to my jeans, and she unhooked it slowly, never breaking eye contact. “Let’s make this a more hands-on lesson.”

Holy shit, if this was affirmative consent, I was fully onboard. Feminism was fucking awesome.

She dragged the zipper down, then reached inside, wrapping her hand around my cock. I felt the heat of it through my boxer briefs, and when she squeezed, my dick pulsed. “Mmm,” she said, giving it a firm stroke. “It’s even better than I imagined.”

“Turnabout is fair play.” I unbuttoned her jeans, then pulled out of her grip just long enough to shove them to the floor. She wore tiny blue panties, which I eased down reverently to reveal a perfect pussy.

She tugged her shirt off, uncovering a tiny waist and gorgeous tits with little pink nipples. “I’m going to suck your nipples until they turn red,” I told her, and when she moaned a little, I leaned in and did it. I toyed with the tight buds, licking and sucking them one at a time, using my fingers to pinch whichever one wasn’t currently in my mouth. She sank her hands into my hair, pulling so hard it sent a little sting through my scalp.

When I finally pulled back, her nipples were red and swollen. I scraped a fingernail over one of them and she shuddered.

“I want to see you naked,” she told me. She made quick work of my jeans, boxer briefs, and T-shirt. When we were equally naked, she stepped forward, pressing those fine curves against me. I inserted my thigh between her legs, and her pussy slid wet and soft against it.

“You’re wet,” I whispered in her ear.

“And you’re hard,” she said, gripping my dick again. “I want you to make me come, and then I want you to push me to my knees and shove your cock in my mouth.”

Jesus. She didn’t have to tell me twice. I reached between her legs, sliding one finger inside to test her wetness, then pulling it out to circle her clit. I repeated the motion over and over again, eventually moving to two fingers. She encouraged me with breathy sighs and murmured assents, and then her fingernails dug into my shoulder as her hips started pumping. She was close to coming, so I focused on her clit, rubbing in firm circles until she gasped and jerked against me. She crushed her mouth to mine, kissing me frantically.

When she was done, I pulled my fingers away and, while she watched, put them in my mouth and sucked her wetness off of them. She shuddered and her cheeks flushed. “That’s so fucking hot,” she said.

I was really getting the hang of this affirmative consent thing. “You’re going to suck my dick now,” I told her, pressing her shoulders until she sank to the floor at my feet. She opened her mouth eagerly and I thrusted my cock inside, moaning when she closed her lips around it. She sucked with enthusiasm, bobbing her head forward until my cock hit the back of her throat. The girl was voracious and extremely talented, and as I gripped her hair to guide her motions, I decided this was the best study date ever.

When I was close to coming, I pulled her off me. “I want to come in your pussy,” I said.

Carly wiped her mouth and stood up. “How do you want to fuck me?”

Damn, she was hot, from her tousled red hair to her swollen nipples and plump pussy. I walked around her, studying every inch of my new goddess. “I want to fuck you from behind. I want you screaming under me as you come.”

She shivered. “Only if you pull my hair.”

“You like it rough, do you?”

She whimpered. “Yes, sir.”

I guided her to the bed, bending her over so her torso and one knee rested on the mattress while her other foot was on the floor. It opened her pussy to me, showing me how wet she was. She tightened her fingers in the sheets and rolled her hips in invitation. I retrieved a condom from my bedside drawer and rolled it on, although my fingers were shaking so much I almost didn’t manage.

“I have a condom,” I said, positioning myself at her entrance. “Now beg me for my cock.”

“Please,” she said instantly, turning her head to look back at me. “Please fuck me. Fuck me so hard and so deep I feel it all week. Fuck me — ” She broke off with a gasp as I pushed in on one long stroke. I held her down as I buried myself to the hilt in her hot, wet pussy.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes. Now fuck me.” She squeezed her inner muscles around me.

I started pumping, slowly at first, enjoying the drag of my cock in her tight vagina. She fit me perfectly, and as I moved, she moved with me, arching her round ass and going up on her toes to help me get even deeper. I reached beneath her hips with one hand to press her clitoris, then started thrusting in earnest. Deep, hard strokes, just how she wanted it. She cried out and clutched the sheets tighter.

“Do you like that?” I asked.

“Yes,” she moaned.

“Tell me what you like.” I’d never realized how powerful dirty talk would make me feel. She was at my mercy, forced to tell me every sordid thought in her head, and I’d never felt more in control.

“I like how deep you get,” she said, pushing back against me. “I like how strong you are.”

“You like my dick?”

“It’s perfect.” She arched her back, and I remembered her demand. I sank my fingers into her hair, clenching the strands near her scalp and using her hair as leverage as I pumped in and out of her body. She cried out. “Yes. Take whatever you want.”

What I wanted was to get her off hard and fast before giving in to the orgasm building in my balls and tingling at the base of my spine. I tugged her hair and pounded hard. My hand was still beneath her, and every thrust forced her swollen clitoris over my fingers. She came with a scream, and as her pussy clenched rhythmically around me, I swore and orgasmed with a sharp intensity that had me seeing stars.

When the tremors faded, I pulled out and collapsed next to her. We were both breathing hard. “Was that good?” I asked.

She looked at me through pleasure-hazed eyes. “It was incredible. You sure learn quickly.”

I grinned and stroked her sweat-dampened back. “I have the best tutor.” I waggled my eyebrows roguishly. “Any other feminist concepts I should learn tonight?”

She laughed. “Oh, baby, you have no idea.”