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Do You Like My Accent, Bitch?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I've heard all the stories about sexy international students in college. In fact I am good friends with several ones at my school. We eat and watch movies together, exchange chocolate candy our parents sent us from home, and then they go and get drunk on a Friday night, and get fucked into oblivion by some blond football player or perhaps two of them. I know because I hear the stories in the locker rooms on Monday morning. And what irritates me most is that all of the sex stories are about hot international girls.

Ok, Ok, I admit that there are numerous international guys who get some. Jamaica scores big and so do Brazil, France and Spain. If you are a bespectacled dork from one of those countries, you are guaranteed a lay because sleeping with you imparts bragging rights. But what sane chick will ever want to boast she slept with a hot Romanian guy? No one!

Or at least I thought so right until Deirdre shattered my beliefs and made me realize what a land of opportunity the US truly was. You see: I have been here for three years getting my college education and working hard, keeping a 20-hour workweek and good GPA so I could maintain my scholarship. I didn't have much time for girls or parties. Still, I was neither ugly, nor cloistered or shy, so I did what I could to utilize the little free time I had. On the evenings I would go to the gym and work out or run on the indoor track until I was tired and sweaty, and ready for a cold shower and another night of poring over my physics textbook. One day, I thought to myself, I would become one of the engineers this country desperately needs. Then I will have the time and money to get myself a hot wife from Idaho or someplace like that and treat her right.

But it happened that one of the awesome coed babes had her sights on me even as college was molding the right Ivy League stuff into the brawny and dreamy Romanian guy that I was. Deirdre was a student gym instructor with long blond hair and a 320-carat smile that must have cost her lawyer dad a fortune. I have seen too many girls in sweatpants since I came to US higher education, but she was the one you could put rags on and she would still look gorgeous. The sight of her curves in the weight room made all the lift machines screech from vein-splitting strain. She didn't talk to anyone who wasn't her charge much, but all eyes were on her at all times, and even the football players avoided hitting on her for fear of being shot down.

So I did my workouts quietly and never shed Deirdre more than a glance through a mirror or a casual nod when she walked past. One time I sat on the bench press and realized that the seat was a little moist from where her legs and tight lavender shorts had rested a moment ago. That gave me what we in Romania call the Big Leek. With 150 lb over my head, I imagined the moist thighs on my stomach with my 6.9-inch wide uncircumcised cock inside of her. I visualized fucking her right there, on the bench, till her cunt nectar seeped down to the floor. I imagined her tasting like Gatorade. Hmm. But as I was not that type of guy I just shook the thoughts away, and focused on benching instead. I had three more sets to do and some pull-ups before the gym closed at 11pm.

Deirdre was the person to escort the last students out, turn off the lights and lock up. The usual night crowd consisting of a couple of middle aged professors, half of the lacrosse team, several newly molted butch lesbians, plus some rednecks from town who had paid to use the gym, had already departed by that time. Deirdre walked past my bench press jingling her keys, letting me know that this was the signal for me to clear our. I sat up, wiped the seat with a towel and was looking for my jacket flung in a corner when the lights went out. Now that was rude. In the murky halogen glow from the hallway, I saw the perfect outline of Deirdre pass by the doorway and slip out. She was obviously in a hurry, I decided.

I made three steps in the direction of the jacket and then total darkness descended. Deirdre had switched off the corridor lights. What was she thinking? I spun around disoriented, straining to figure out where the door was and trying to avoid the heavy weights and dumbbells that hung around in the darkness. I started in the direction I thought the exit was situated and cursed under my breath because I didn't want to get locked in for the night especially as I had not bothered to take my textbooks with me. I had made perhaps a dozen steps when I bumped into a person standing still. I heard the soft breath almost at the level of my lips. My eyes were adjusting to the dark now and I could see who it was. It was Deirdre.

"I like your accent," she said.

"What?" I shouted, half annoyed and half incredulous at what was happening.

"I just like how you speak and move," her voice came out of the darkness.

"But what are you talking about? I've never even spoken to you!" I managed to say, more softly this time, since it was dawning on me that Deirdre might actually have on her mind the same thing I did.

"Oh, you know. You are the quiet Romanian guy who always comes to work out and pretends he is not looking at me."

"What??"

"But of course I like to be looked at," she continued. "Why do you think I got this job?"

"If this is some sort of lame frat joke, or if you want me to say or do something harassing so you can drag me to the Conduct Board, you are wasting your time."

"Well, it is not a frat joke, and you will not be harassing me," she whispered in my ear. I felt the heat from her slim waist when she suddenly pressed herself against me.

"Deirdre, what are you..."

:Shut up, Kristjan! Surprised I know your name? Surprised I don't care you are a foreigner, and I am not out there fucking some American jock? Well, I have been watching you for two years now, just as you've been watching me, and I understand you better than you think I do. I am a Politics major concentrating on Eastern Europe. I would not pretend I know something about your country or your people because I don't. I will not even be a pretentious bitch and ask you questions about it. I just have this huge crush on you, and I love your accent, so I decided it's time to do something about it.

"Um... wow." I said.

"You can do better than "wow"," Deirdre smiled. "How about you put your big Romanian arms around me and take off my top. And..." her lips found mine... "Please, please, keep talking to me in that sexy accent!"

"Okay!" I said and did what she wanted. I undid her top and cupped her braless boobs in my hands and called them what we call boobs in Romanian. Deirdre moaned softly and backed up against the wall, while she slid one of my hands down to her shorts.

"Touch me! Touch me like I touched myself thinking of your gruff sexy voice!"

"You did??" It was incredible. Deirdre was wet between the legs and let me spread them wide open. I hooked my fingers and rubbed her clit vigorously through the fabric of her shorts. She moaned louder and pulled herself up on a parallel bar wrapping her athletic thighs around me. We kissed like mad for about two minutes, and I whispered dirty Romanian in her ears when I could get a breath.

"Is this how you treat women in your country?" she screamed and tore herself from my embrace suddenly. "I want your hard Balkan manhood inside of me! Come on? I am sure you all dream of fucking hot blond cheerleaders in Romania. You have me now! So whip out your ex-commie cock and fuck me!"

Something slapped my face in the darkness. It was Deirdre's wet shorts and panties. I strained my eyes and saw Deirdre sprawled on the bench press on her elbows and knees. Her smooth skin was beautifully pale in the dark, except for the gleaming pink stripe of her shaved pussy. I didn't need an invitation for this show. I tore out of my sweatshirt and pants, and jumped on top of her with a Transylvanian battle cry.

Deirdre clenched the bench press tightly when I put my arms around her and started pounding her hard from behind. She moaned like a fucking porn star and twisted and humped her juicy bottom against me just like I had imagined in my dream. I could not believe how wet her cunt was, when she must have been parched from the workout.

"Oh, fuck me Khristjan! FUCK ME! Fuck my American cunt!"

I did and I was surprised at how long I could go without trying to stop myself from coming. Something about the weight room and the rhythm did that to me. I felt I was falling back into my bench press routine, slinging 120 pounds of squirming Deirdre on top of my hard cock, as if she was coaching me some new routine that was good for my abs. I pulled on her long blond hair while I fucked her screamed bilingual debauchery on top of my lungs.

"Do you like my accent now bitch? Do you like it in your pussy raw and hard?"

"Yes, yes! YES!!! Fuck me, Kristjan, you dirty Romanian animal! Fuck me hard!!"

I slapped Deirdre's ass with one hand and impaled my cock deeper and deeper into her pink slit. I hoped she was on some kind of birth control because I was going to cum soon. It felt so awesome! As if reading my thoughts Deirdre pulled herself up on the bar handles and turned around so she was facing my pulsating cock, which was absolutely swollen and soaked in her sap. She bent down and gently caressed the foreskin with her hand, closing her lips around it. She bent her head still lower till her lips were almost at the shaft and her awesome blond hair was spilling over my legs and stomach. It was the best sensation of my life. I watched her blond head bob up and down, taking it in deeper and I pictured her dad, the lawyer, watching a hairy-chested Romanian erupt a liter of cum in his daughter's face. Had something like this happened to others before? Was I part of some grand international guy stalking agenda on the part of Deirdre? I didn't know and I didn't care. I let one last guttural groan and shot my load inside her mouth and watched in amazement as Deirdre didn't budge an inch, but gulped it all down her throat as if it was some kind breakfast protein shake. She wiped her lips on her hand, smacked them hard and started giggling. I asked her what was the matter:

"For some reason I thought your semen would taste some like yogurt or feta cheese."

"Oh yeah? And I thought you stick a flute in your pussy for fun."

"Nope. But my roommate and I share this 2AAAVelvet Pleasure vibrator. It's her turn to use it tonight but if you want we can go home and give her a hand. I know you people all would like to fuck two hot roommates at once. Or do I grossly misinterpret your culture?"

END

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