Donna
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Copyright 2000, John Jameson.  All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction, and all characters and events are drawn from 
the author's fevered imagination.  Any resemblance to persons, living 
or dead, is unintentional.  If you think you recognize yourself here, 
it's no doubt a matter of projection on your own part.  (Unless, of 
course, you happen to be female, are not offended by what you read, and 
find middle-aged would-be authors of erotica irresistible.  But we'll 
save that discussion for some other time.)

Please do not reproduce this work in any form without the express 
consent of the author.  If you want to archive this story, you may 
contact me at Jameson1780@altavista.com.

If you are offended by explicit depictions of human sexuality, you may 
want to look elsewhere for entertainment (after consulting a competent 
therapist).  If it is illegal for you to read such materials due to 
age, local laws, or other considerations (and you know who you are, so 
let's not kid each other), then please go no further.  Not that I can 
stop you, but at least my conscience is clear now.
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Part One -- Discovery and Desire

Columbia, Missouri, the home of the University of Missouri's main 
campus, has long held the reputation of being a great place to meet 
women.  When I first graduated from high school in 1970, the ratio of 
female college students to males in Columbia was reputed to be two to 
one.  Not only did you have the Mizzou campus, there was also Stephens 
College, an exclusive women's college (one famous alumna is Annie Potts 
of "Ghostbusters" and "Designing Women"), and Columbia College, which 
had only recently gone coed and was still predominantly female.  I 
never saw actual enrollment data, but the two to one figure is probably 
pretty close.  Even an archetypal nerd like my roommate Alfred could 
get dates with beautiful women in Columbia; although, he only had one 
date I know of through the whole first semester.

As for me, while I'd never been the great stud of Mayville High School, 
I'd also never lacked for dates, but Columbia exceeded anything in my 
prior experience.  In the first few weeks of my freshman year, I'd 
dated more women who would have looked at home on a magazine cover than 
I'd met in all the nearly nineteen years before.  And it wasn't just 
that I was able to date them--thanks to the sexual revolution that was 
finally reaching even Missouri, I got laid more in the first month at 
Mizzou than in the whole of my senior year at Mayville.  Bacchanalian 
keggers at the quarry which had been the centers for such revels since 
before my dad's college days helped, but even more was the whole "if it 
feels good, do it" mentality of the late 60's and early 70's.

It probably also helped that I was co-student director of the Birth 
Control and Problem Pregnancy Counseling Center at Columbia's leading 
volunteer counseling agency.  I met most of the women on campus looking 
for a local doctor to give them a prescription for the Pill, that magic 
bullet that mortally wounded the last vestiges of Victorian morality 
(or so we thought at the time).  While I didn't take undue advantage of 
that enviable position, I certainly had a better idea than most of my 
fellow male students of who in Columbia was at least considering 
becoming sexually active.  Then there was the opportunity to sit down 
with many of these women and talk to them about the most intimate of 
subjects before I ever encountered them socially.  More than one of the 
women whose bed I shared that fall had already spent time on the 
Salvation Army couch in the Center's office discussing contraception 
options.

My co-director was a sophomore named Barb Gruener, a petite blond from 
another St. Louis suburb.  While we had several counselors on staff, 
one or the other of us was usually involved with every client, and we 
were the only ones taking the risks associated with the abortion 
counseling.  That led to a lot of hours spent together, during which we 
developed a close friendship.  I found her to have a wonderfully 
sarcastic sense of humor coupled with deep compassion.  The two of us 
complemented each other well and were an effective counseling team.  We 
shared a lot of laughs at some of the cases we handled and a lot of 
hours reassuring each other after dealing with some of the more 
distressing ones.

More than once we fell asleep together in the wee hours of the morning, 
sharing that lumpy couch, because we didn't have the energy to walk 
back to our respective dorms.  Whether it was an unspoken agreement 
that becoming romantically involved would impair our effectiveness as a 
team or some other reason, we became close friends and confidantes but 
not lovers.

Naturally, I fell in love with a fellow freshman who, like me, was a 
dorm dweller.

The first time I saw Donna, the word that first came to my mind was 
"cute."  From the neck up, she could have been thirteen.  Dark brown 
hair tumbled in an unruly mop of loose curls to her shoulders.  (She 
once told me that when it was cut short she looked even more like 
Shirley Temple, so she fought an unceasing battle to keep her hair 
under control.)  She had big, round eyes the color of a summer sky over 
her native Missouri Bootheel.  Her long, dark lashes were natural--I 
doubt she'd ever held an eyelash curler in her hand.  Freckles dusted 
her pert little nose and dimpled cheeks.  Her mouth was a Cupid's bow, 
her lips full, soft, and red enough that she had little need for 
lipstick.

From the neck down, there was no possibility anyone would ever take her 
for a thirteen-year-old.  She was about five-three and had a tiny waist 
that made her slender hips seem voluptuous by comparison, but her 
breasts were true natural wonders.  Full, round, firm, and high, they 
swayed delightfully whenever she moved, thanks to the passion for 
bralessness that was one of the major statements of the sexual 
revolution and particularly of the women's liberation movement.  (Was I 
breast-obsessed?  Sue me--I was a bottle baby.)

With the exception of foregoing brassieres, her usual dress was as 
unprovoking as anything could be on that body.  More often than not, 
she could be seen in bell-bottom jeans (not too tight) and bulky 
sweaters that at least partially disguised the incredible shape of the 
body beneath.

We first met because we were in the same section of Foundations of 
Western Civilization, one of those massive lecture hall courses most 
freshmen must endure.  Being in the same section meant we met with the 
same small group for discussion under the direction of a teaching 
assistant barely older than ourselves.  As we began to realize we were 
the only students in our section who had at least a passing 
acquaintance with the thirteen books on the reading list even before 
entering college, we gravitated toward one another in class and in long 
study sessions in the Library.

Though Donna's body was the stuff of dreams, her personality seemed to 
be more in keeping with her face--open and friendly, but innocent and 
virginal as well.  A year earlier, I'd have been begging her for a date 
anyway, willing to bide my time in hopes of seeing those incredible 
breasts bared to my kisses and caresses.  In the flesh market that was 
Columbia, though, there were too many other women who lived off campus 
and who were more than willing to be my lab partners in Human Sex 101.

Some of them, sophomores and even one junior, were more than happy to 
share their more advanced knowledge with a student who was eager to 
learn.  Before then, I thought I knew what it is to go down on a woman 
(okay, I'd done that with two of them, if you're gonna insist on an 
accurate count).  By the end of my third week in college, I knew I had 
only begun to explore the possibilities of pleasuring women with my 
tongue.  Thanks to the junior, Carla, I'd progressed to postgraduate 
studies in that art.

Still, Donna was adorable and we were spending a lot of time studying 
together in the Library.  As first semester freshmen in the College of 
Arts and Sciences--I was majoring in Art History and Archaeology, Donna 
in Psychology--we had a lot of courses in common, even if we were in 
different sections in most of them.  Gradually, our study sessions for 
Foundations of Western Civ expanded to all the courses we shared and 
then moved beyond to include all the subjects college freshmen so love 
to debate.  Inevitably, that also included our views on sex.

Given her small town Bootheel roots and innocent demeanor, I'd assumed 
Donna would be one of those women who are determined to save themselves 
for their wedding night.  It didn't take long to discover, once again, 
the truth of the old adage about judging a book by its cover.  I had 
found my mirror image; Donna admitted she was turned on by almost every 
aspect of sex, not only the meeting of hard cock and warm, wet pussy, 
but all of the sensations surrounding the act from the first hesitant 
kiss to the feel of skin made damp and slick by the sweat of effort as 
the screwing gained in intensity.  After a couple of these discussions 
in the hallowed precincts of the Library, it was pretty obvious that we 
weren't talking in the abstract anymore.  She wanted me as badly as I 
wanted her, the only problem being that both of us lived in dorms.  
(For those of you who attended college in later years, there was a time 
when the presence of men in women's dorms and vice versa were strictly 
controlled.  Shocking, yes, but true.)

This autumn had started off cool, and already the nights had moved into 
the nippy range, so just finding a secluded spot in the woods and 
ripping each other's clothes off seemed like a shortcut to the Student 
Health Center to be treated for hypothermia.  I hadn't bothered 
bringing my camping gear to Columbia, so I couldn't even suggest 
heading for a state park campground, even if freshmen had been allowed 
to have cars on campus.  I did know a few married and cohabiting 
couples living off campus, but none well enough yet to ask them for the 
use of their apartments so that we could rumple their sheets.  We 
debated getting a motel room, but frankly neither of us had much 
experience in that arena nor did we have the surplus funds to pay for 
both the room and a cab to get us to and from a motel, so that idea was 
shelved for the time being.

Donna lived in one of the older women's dorms near the center of the 
campus, and the layout ensured that the Residence Assistants (RAs) 
could easily monitor the coming and going of all visitors.  Also, her 
roommate was a devoted member of the sex police, eagerly reporting to 
the RAs whenever she suspected someone of entertaining a male visitor.  
Scratch Donna's dorm as a trysting place.

I was in one of the newer dorms on the southeast corner of the campus.  
These were larger structures that at least offered some possibility of 
entering and exiting discreetly.  While the elevators and main 
stairwell door were in the lobby just outside the room assigned to each 
floor's RA, there was also a stairway at the far end of each of the 
three corridors where the rooms were located.  We'd have to slip past 
twelve other rooms between mine and the stairwell, but it was less 
intimidating than trying to slip into Donna's dorm.  There was, 
however, the matter of Alfred (never known as Al), who was at least as 
dedicated to preserving the moral standards of the student body as 
Donna's roommate.  Okay, so we'd have to wait for him to take the 
Greyhound to Independence some weekend before my room became a viable 
location.  Patience wasn't high on our agenda at that point, so we also 
put a pin in that idea.

The Library had a number of study cubicles and meeting rooms with real 
doors on them, but we ruled those out for two reasons.  First, you had 
to have a minimum of three people to reserve one, and we weren't 
interested in a threesome.  Not then, at least, but that's another 
story.  Second, and more importantly, those rooms weren't very well 
soundproofed, and the doors didn't actually lock.  So much for the 
Library.

Suddenly, it was as though a light had come on behind Donna's eyes.  
She began gathering up her books and notes and motioned me to do the 
same.  Wordlessly, she led me from the Library and down the street to 
the physics building, almost running as we got closer.  Each time I 
asked her what she had in mind, she just giggled and pulled me along 
faster until we were standing inside a stairwell in the classroom 
structure.

"There are evening classes, labs, and seminars all over this building," 
I told her in a stage whisper as she led me up the stairs.

"Do you know what's at the top of the stairway?" she asked in the same 
loud whisper.

When I shook my head, she explained.

"This is where the observatory is--there are two flights of stairs 
above the top level of classrooms and offices leading to the dome up on 
the roof."

Apparently exasperated by the puzzled look on my face, she explained 
more slowly.

"It's totally overcast tonight.  How many people do you think are gonna 
be using the telescope?"

Comprehension dawned; as long as we were quiet, we could at least have 
warmth and relative privacy, if not comfort.  We scrambled stealthily 
up the long flights of stairs until we reached the locked observatory 
door at the top.

Stacking our books on one of the lower steps, we huddled together on 
the landing and struggled out of our coats.  With the mixture of 
tenderness and lust I saw on her angelic face, Donna looked like a 
cherub about to play a naughty prank.  Our first kiss was slow and soft 
and tender.  Her lips were incredibly soft and warm, and they clung to 
mine gently.  We teased each other endlessly with soft kisses before 
our lips parted and our tongues met in light, teasing play.  It seemed 
that since neither of us was in doubt about where this would end, we 
felt no pressure to push the boundaries.  We were content, even 
determined, to let our passion build slowly in hopes that the prolonged 
foreplay would make our pending orgasms that much more intense.

The kisses did continue to grow more heated, and our hands finally 
began to wander, tentative caresses became bolder and more forward, 
moving from backs to hips to chests and from outside thick layers of 
clothing to bare skin.  I was determined to let Donna set the pace this 
time, not to push her faster than she was willing to go.  After all, I 
knew I didn't have to seduce her.  I did soon reach the point, though, 
where I knew I'd need to make some adjustment in my clothing if I 
weren't to be distracted by pain.  When I tried to nonchalantly 
maneuver my erection to a less confined position under my jeans, Donna 
noticed and smiled.

"Are you getting uncomfortable, honey?"

"Um, yeah, a little, but I just need to shift it around, so it's not 
trying to crawl down my pants leg."

"Here, let me help . . ."  She made me stand a couple of steps down 
and, grinning up at me, unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned the fly of my 
Levi's.  I moaned quietly as her fingers wrapped around the hardness of 
my shaft and fished my cock from my briefs--then moaned louder when her 
tongue flicked wetly over the swollen purple crown and down the 
underside.

"Are you sure you want me to put this away?  I  don't want you to be 
uncomfortable, but he sure looks like he could use some kisses," she 
giggled.

"So we won't be able to do any actual observing tonight, but you should 
have that much more time to get acquainted with the equipment in the 
observatory," we heard, as the sound of feet--lots of feet--reached us 
in the quiet of the stairwell.

Shit!  I frantically buttoned my jeans and dropped to the landing, 
where Donna had grabbed the nearest notebook and flipped it open.  As 
the evening Astronomy 110 class rounded the landing at the bottom of 
the final flight of stairs, we were huddled together over the open 
notebook trying our damnedest not to laugh.  Since my face was no doubt 
at least as red as hers, I doubt the instructor fully accepted our 
explanation that we'd simply been looking for a quiet spot to study.  I 
know at least one of the women in the class didn't because she sniffed 
the air delicately and then whispered, "Sorry about that," as Donna and 
I slipped down the stairs while the instructor opened the observatory 
door.

When we hit the sidewalk outside, we burst into laughter, holding onto 
one another and laughing until we had to find a bench and collapse for 
a few minutes to collect ourselves.

"Scratch classroom buildings," Donna giggled.

It was nearing ten o'clock, and we both had to deal with the eleven 
o'clock weekday curfew at the dorms. We admitted temporary defeat in 
our quest that night, and I walked Donna back to her dorm.  As we 
approached the ivy-covered brick building, she grabbed my hand and 
dragged me behind some large evergreens.

"I can't let you go home in this condition," she whispered as she 
reached for my belt buckle once more.

"What about you?" I asked, equally quiet.  "If you're going to be left 
hanging, certainly I can hold off for now, too."

"I can masturbate a lot more discreetly than you can," she replied, 
grinning and sticking her tongue out at me.  "Five minutes after 
Janelle goes to sleep, I'll be enjoying a nice quiet little orgasm 
under the covers."

Again my fly was open, my erection back in full force almost as soon as 
Donna's hand enclosed it.  We kissed hungrily, and I managed to slip a 
hand under her sweater to caress a full, round breast while she stroked 
me with mounting urgency.  Okay, so maybe the mounting urgency was 
mine, but Donna really knew how to use her hands.  She dropped down to 
her knees on the thick blanket of evergreen needles and flicked her 
tongue up and down my shaft and all around the tip, all the while 
stroking me gently in her hand.  When she felt my cock beginning to 
jerk and swell in her grip, she took half my length in one gulp and 
drove me over the edge with the heat of her mouth and the maddening 
dance of her tongue.  I managed not to groan so loudly that I attracted 
attention as Donna's mouth and hand milked me dry.  Then she carefully 
licked me clean, tucked my slowly deflating cock back inside my briefs 
and stood to kiss me while she deftly re-buttoned my jeans.  The salty 
taste of my cum on her lips made my sleeping cock stir, but I resolved 
to behave himself.  Hand in hand, I walked her to the door of her dorm 
where we shared a chaste good night kiss under the watchful eye of the 
RA before I began the trek across campus to my own dorm.

Part Two -- The Quest Continues

The next evening after supper, I met Donna for our regular study 
session at the Library.  For about twenty minutes we were able to 
concentrate on Plutarch's Lives of the Noble Romans, but then the 
hormones started kicking in again in earnest.  As good as it had felt 
when Donna gave me the blow job outside her dorm the night before, I 
would not be satisfied with half measures, and neither would she.  We 
had to find a place where we could safely get naked together and bring 
one another to total orgasmic fulfillment.  In our youthful idealism, 
we could tolerate nothing less than the full success of our quest.

Unfortunately, neither of us had any brilliant flashes of inspiration 
that day.  Well, I'd had a couple, but they both revolved more around 
what to do after we'd found a place and gotten naked.

"I talked to everyone I could collar among my off-campus friends 
today," she sighed, "and none of them seems to be willing to give us 
their place for a night, except one guy who insisted on being allowed 
to stick around and photograph us."

"Same here.  The only people I found who were willing either wanted to 
join in or had some other strings attached I wasn't willing to accept."

We sat holding hands across the study table and sighed together, then 
had to stifle our laughter.  Surely two determined, resourceful, and 
intelligent people could conquer a challenge this simple, right? 

"Y'know," I whispered across the table, "I look at this as a personal 
challenge now.  The motel option is still there, but I'm betting we can 
manage to find someplace else."

"I agree.  We're supposed to be smart people, for God's sake!  How 
smart can we be if we can't do something as simple as finding a place 
to screw each other silly?"

"Okay then, we're agreed.  Do you feel up to a little stroll around the 
campus, M'lady?"

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Sir Knight.  I trust you plan for us 
to seek a place where you can sheath your sword?"

"Oh, I know exactly where I want to sheath my sword," I chuckled as 
Donna covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.  "The question 
is where shall we find a place where we can accomplish the sheathing?"

"Are we gonna play word games all night, or are we gonna look for a 
place to play the games we really want to play?"

I took her hand, and we set out together on our journey of exploration.  
Arms around each others waists, we strolled around the central campus 
like any other young lovers, poking our noses into Jesse Hall, looking 
for warm spots in McAllister Park, wandering through the Student Union 
and the classroom buildings in the campus core.  We didn't have much 
luck, except we almost stepped on one couple making out near the 
Columns.  They must have been braver souls than we were--or hornier--
since the evening temperature was already in the 30s.

We got chased out of a couple of buildings by the night janitorial 
staff, found a few potentially promising spaces--all either locked or 
occupied, unfortunately--and kept up a running sotto voce dialogue 
about what we were going to do once we did manage to find our magic 
hideaway.  Unfortunately for us, all we came up with that evening was 
more frustration.

"This time it's your turn," I told Donna as we ducked into the 
evergreens outside her dorm to say good night.

In spite of the chill, she eagerly complied, leaning back against the 
brick wall of the old building and watching my every move as I pushed 
her jeans down.  We weren't going to be able to get her legs spread 
enough for me to go down on her without getting one leg free of the 
jeans, but as our tongues danced a complicated tango from mouth to 
mouth, she was able to bend her knees enough to give my hand room to 
maneuver a little.  She whimpered into my mouth as my fingertips 
lightly traced the outline of her pubic curls, then dipped between her 
thighs to explore the contours of her outer labia, memorizing every 
curve and hollow with soft caresses before moving inward.  Her inner 
lips were slick and hot, opening under the gentle urging of my fingers 
and eliciting a moan from deep inside her when I began to probe, ever 
so tenderly, between them.  Her warm honey coated my fingers, and I 
lifted them to my lips for a taste before slowly entering her with one, 
then two, insistent digits.

Donna trembled and clung to me more tightly as I twisted my fingers 
back and forth and slowly pumped them in and out of her cunt; she 
wiggled and tried to imprison them in its velvet grip.  Once I had my 
fingers thoroughly slicked with her juices, I began to spread the silky 
fluids upward, around her swollen clit.  I was careful not to touch it.  
Her kisses became hungrier and more demanding with each circuit my 
fingers made around her clit--first dipping inside to caress her inner 
walls, receiving a fresh coating of her nectar, then brushing up the 
length of her slit.  With each pass, I'd massage her throbbing clit a 
little more with a finger on either side of it, manipulating the folds 
of her clitoral hood so they caressed the little nub within.

She placed one hand over mine and directed me to the position and 
rhythm she needed, my fingers now dancing in little circles around and 
over her straining clit as she neared her orgasm.  Suddenly, she began 
to tremble violently and moaned into our kiss as it swept over her like 
a massive series of ocean waves, each one further weakening her legs.  
At last she pulled my hand away and drew her jeans up enough to allow 
her to sit on the carpet of evergreen needles while her breathing 
slowed.

"Oh, baby, that was sooooo nice," she panted softly, her eyes 
glittering as she watched me clean my soaking fingers with my tongue.

After a couple of minutes, she slid back up the wall and zipped her 
jeans.  Her legs were still trembling as we approached the door, and I 
saw the RA looking at us oddly.  Donna laughingly complained about me 
running her until she was weak in the knees, and they exchanged knowing 
grins as Donna explained I hadn't listened to her warning that it was 
time to leave the Library.  Another chaste good night kiss outside the 
dormitory entrance and it was again time for me to return to the 
solitude of my own narrow bed.  As I undressed for bed, quietly and in 
the dark so as not to awaken Alfred, I pondered my erect cock and 
wondered if it wasn't time to accept defeat and admit that a motel was 
the only viable option open to us.

Part Three -- Passionate Persistence

The next morning was a lecture hall day for Foundations of Western 
Civilization, so Donna and I sat in the cavernous auditorium and 
scribbled notes as we tried to keep up with the rambling lecture from 
the professor who "taught" the course.  Though neither of us had yet 
spoken to him face-to-face, it was unlikely we ever would.  Full 
professors didn't deal with freshman in survey courses--that's what 
teaching assistants were for.  We both had an open period after the 
lecture, so we decided to walk the two blocks over to The Shack and 
examine the names and initials carved into the booths by prior 
generations of Mizzou students, while we munched their famous burgers.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, when she commented that one of the names was 
the same as mine, except it was followed by the date 10/10/47.  "That's 
my dad's inscription; he was a student here in '47 after he got out of 
the Navy!"  Donna laughed delightedly and kept examining the records 
left by the penknives of countless students over the decades.  The 
Shack had been the University's landmark eatery in its location just 
across from Jesse Hall and the Columns.

"Why does the name Mort Walker ring a bell?" she mused quietly at one 
point.  She showed me the inscription, and I laughed.

"Did you ever read `Beetle Bailey' or `Hi and Lois' in the newspaper 
comics?"

"The local paper carries `Beetle Bailey' . . .  Oh, God; this is the 
Mort Walker who writes that?"

"Yeah," I explained, "he was a student here, too.  In fact, Beetle was 
a freshman at Mizzou before he joined the Army."

We took our time over lunch as neither of us had a class until two that 
afternoon.  While we sipped thick, rich malts for dessert, we looked at 
other old inscriptions carved into the table top, benches, and back 
wall of our booth, making up little stories to go with some of them and 
laughing happily.

When we reluctantly parted, it was with the agreement we'd meet as 
usual on the third floor of the Library after dinner.

When I got to our accustomed study table, Donna was waiting there for 
me with a frown darkening her normally happy face.

"What is it, baby?" I whispered, stepping around behind her to massage 
her shoulders.  She leaned back until her blue eyes met mine.

"Delay of game," she answered sadly.  "I could tell at dinner tonight 
I'm gonna be starting my period before tomorrow."

"Oh, fuck!" I growled quietly as I dropped into my chair opposite her.  
"And here I thought I had good news for you: Alfred's going home for 
the weekend."  I held her hand gently in both of mine while she tried 
to decide whether to laugh or cry at the irony.

"Doesn't it just figure?" she giggled, obviously opting for the 
humorous interpretation rather than the tragic.  I still wasn't so sure 
it was funny, but I smiled back anyway.  What the hell, I thought, 
she's gonna feel bad enough the next few days without me pouting about 
something we can't control.

"I don't suppose he normally goes back to Independence two weekends in 
a row, huh?"

"Nope, every other weekend, like clockwork."

"Shit, and my folks are coming up for Parents' Weekend the week after 
next," she sighed.

We went to work and got our homework out of the way, then strolled 
quietly from the Library to Donna's dorm.  There was no groping in the 
bushes this night, just our usual kiss good night at the door.  The 
next several days it seemed as though even the weather was laughing at 
our frustration, with a brief resurgence of Indian summer bringing 
daytime temperatures in the 70s, falling into the low 60s in the 
evenings.

That next Tuesday morning when we met at the door outside the seminar 
room where our class section met with the TA twice a week, Donna asked 
me what I was grinning about.  Rather than answering directly, I asked 
how she was feeling now that her period was over.

"Wonderful, thanks; now what's so fucking funny?" she whispered.

"I'll tell you after class."

All through the discussion of the assigned readings from Plutarch, I 
kept grinning, Donna kept kicking my ankle under the table, and the TA 
kept giving us dirty looks.  As soon as the class ended, she grabbed me 
by the arm and dragged me out onto the sidewalk.

"Okay, Mr. Smartass," she demanded as she melted into my embrace, 
"what's so damned funny?"

"What plans do you have for Saturday?" I asked, hugging her tightly.

"I thought maybe we could go see `Catch-22' over at the theater on 
Broadway," she mused, "unless . . ."  I saw comprehension dawn on her 
face just before she dug her fingers into my ribs.  "You sneaky 
bastard!" she giggled.  "You've found something, haven't you?"

"Some of the folks from the counseling center have gone in together to 
rent a huge, old pre-Civil War farmhouse outside of town," I told her.  
"If you're interested, we've got the use of one of the bedrooms 
Saturday night if we're willing to help with cleanup and painting 
during the day.  We can stay through Sunday, and someone will give us a 
ride back into town before Sunday night curfew at the dorms."

We caught a few amused looks from passers-by as Donna leaped from the 
ground and wrapped her legs around my hips, kissing me passionately 
enough to raise the surrounding air temperature by a good ten degrees.

"Let's go get lunch," she whispered as she nibbled my earlobe.  "You're 
gonna need your strength."

The rest of the week dragged on, with classes and our evening study 
dates in the Library and the usual demands of a full course load never 
enough to keep our minds off the weekend ahead for very long.  Somehow, 
though, we survived.  When I left her at the entrance of her dorm on 
Friday night, we agreed I'd meet her in the same spot at seven the next 
morning and we'd walk together to where my friend Donny would pick us 
up in his VW microbus to drive out to the farmhouse.

Part Four -- At Long Last Lust

Saturday was a classic autumn day: clear, bright and cool.  I don't 
think it was the chill air, though, that accounted for the flush in 
Donna's cheeks when I picked her up at her dorm that morning.  I had my 
spare clothing and toiletries in a backpack, so I took her small travel 
bag and carried it as we walked over to the counseling center, each of 
us with an arm around the other's waist.  Donna had taken advantage of 
the communal kitchen in the old dorm to bake a huge batch of blueberry 
muffins, which she then packed to bring along for people to munch with 
their coffee as we worked on the old farmhouse.  The aroma of the fresh 
baked goods was almost as enticing as the scent of her hair as we 
walked the six blocks to the center.

There were ten of us going out in Donny's bus, so I had to "suffer" 
with Donna snuggled on my lap during the fifteen minute drive out to 
the farm.  She teased and tantalized me, wiggling her warm bottom in my 
lap, kissing my ears and neck, and whispering about what would happen 
that night when we retired to the privacy of our room.  I retaliated by 
slipping one hand up under her tattered sweatshirt and brushing my 
fingers across her belly and up to the undersides of her breasts.  My 
fingertips brushed upward softly until they just barely contacted the 
edges of her areola, then retreated, only to repeat the cycle again on 
the other breast.  I traced every curve of her magnificent breasts in 
this way--except her aching nipples.  By the time the short ride was 
over, I was pretty sure she had a small wet spot in the crotch of her 
jeans, though it was much less obvious than the pulsating bulge in 
mine.

We were given a quick tour of the old place, a large brick Georgian 
design with massive chimneys at either end.  It had been built in 1856 
by a man who was to become a Union-sympathizing judge during the Civil 
War.  Some people claimed the place was haunted by the ghosts of 
Confederates he'd had hung from the ancient oak trees out front.  The 
house had a huge kitchen and even larger living and dining rooms on the 
first floor, a small room that had been a library, six smallish 
bedrooms and two nearly new baths on the second floor, and four smaller 
general purpose rooms on the third floor.  Donna and I had been 
assigned to one of the guestrooms on the second floor, sparsely 
furnished with a double bed, an old wing chair, a dresser with a 
stained mirror, and a nightstand.  To us it was a bridal suite, if only 
because the massive oak door and the thick old interior walls were, we 
were assured with a grin, almost soundproof.  We deposited our luggage 
on the bed and rejoined the group around the coffeepot in the kitchen.  
The group ate and praised Donna's muffins as we split up the tasks to 
be done that day; then we all turned to and got to work.

Donna and I were part of the group painting the living room, and I was 
surprised at the level of discipline and craftsmanship everyone brought 
to the job.  With a liberal use of drop cloths and a little time to 
make sure bare wood was masked, we managed to cover every inch of the 
walls with a fresh coat of pale yellow paint with hardly a drop 
spilled.  What spills there were seemed to land on people, not surfaces 
we wanted to protect.  By one in the afternoon, we were cleaning up 
brushes and rollers, setting them out on the wraparound porch to dry, 
when Donny pulled up with a busload of pizzas and beer.  Barb Mueller 
promised us a home-cooked curry for dinner.  We moved our materials 
into the library as soon as we'd eaten our fill of pizza.

Dan Franklin, the director of the counseling center, talked though the 
afternoon about plans to use the farmhouse as a retreat center for the 
staff.  As one of the student directors, I agreed it was something we 
could use, since it was surprisingly stressful work at times, 
especially working the Acid Rescue lines and counseling pregnant women 
three years before Roe v. Wade.  At that time, even advising a pregnant 
woman on where abortions could be obtained was illegal in the state of 
Missouri.

We mainly did preliminary screenings and helped women interested in 
adoption or keeping their babies to get in touch with appropriate 
support resources and to think about how to deal with families, 
boyfriends, etc.  Women who wanted abortions were referred to a group 
of volunteer clergy who had accepted the risk of maintaining guides to 
places in the country it was possible to obtain such services legally 
and safely.  The theory was that merely referring someone to a third 
party that did the actual referrals for abortions insulated us from 
felony charges if the state ever decided to play hardball.

We had similar protective rules because of our involvement with Acid 
Rescue and runaway counseling; no one was EVER allowed to bring any 
illegal substances into the center.  More than once, the Columbia cops 
had come in and searched the building looking for drugs, but the worst 
they'd found had been a bottle of Boone's Farm wine in a fridge.  
Alcohol being considered almost a required food group at Mizzou, we'd 
never been hassled for that but were convinced if they ever came in and 
found so much as a dime bag of grass, we'd all be busted.

In any event, the idea of having some place away from the center where 
the staff could come and do encounter sessions and workshops, receive 
additional training, and just shoot the breeze together made a lot of 
sense to me.  I promised Dan that the staff in my area would make 
contributions to the rent in order to have use of the facility.

We got so caught up in the discussion as we worked that we almost 
didn't realize we were done painting the library until it was time 
again to clean our tools.  The smell of the chicken curry, which Barb 
Mueller had been cooking all afternoon, had permeated the whole house 
by the time we were done, and we sped through the cleanup and a quick 
change of clothes before dinner was served around the large old tables 
in the dining room.  They say hunger is the best sauce, and we tore 
into the curry--which was served with brown rice, mango chutney, and 
Indian flat bread--with a relish.

The conversation was lively and interesting; this was truly an 
exceptional group for the most part.  Ordinarily, Donna and I would 
have been in the thick of it until everyone just passed out from 
fatigue and the jugs of red Italian wine being doled out so liberally.  
About eight o'clock, though, Donna caught my eye and explained to the 
group that she'd been up early to bake the muffins so it was soon going 
to be her bedtime.  We received a few knowing grins from those who knew 
us and knew of our quest for a private space, as we said our good 
nights.

And then the time arrived.  We closed the heavy oak door of our room 
and made sure it was latched (though there was no lock), then looked 
around in wonder before looking at one another.

Part Five -- Together at Last

"I love you, Mike," Donna sighed as she moved to me and melted into my 
embrace.

"Baby, I love you, too.  I can't believe we're finally alone."

Donna pushed me back until my knees hit the edge of the bed, and I sat, 
watching her as she moved around the room.  She turned out the bedside 
lamp and left the two lamps on the dresser lit so that the room was 
illuminated but not so brightly that we had lights shining in our eyes.

Silently, she motioned me to raise up as she pulled back the covers on 
the bed, then had me sit again.  Finally, still without having spoken a 
word, she faced me and slipped out of her tennis shoes.  I began to 
undress, but she gestured for me to wait.

"I want this to be special," she said quietly, a brilliant smile 
brightening the room.  "You sit there and let me undress for you, and 
then we'll get you naked, okay?"  Who was I to argue with that?

Donna peeled off the sweater she'd worn to dinner and draped it over 
the back of the chair.  Turning back to face me, she kept her eyes on 
my face as she unbuttoned her chambray work shirt and untucked it from 
her jeans.  It parted to reveal the inner curves of her breasts almost 
to her nipples, and Donna smiled to herself as she deliberately 
unbuttoned each shirt cuff in turn.  Still wearing the shirt, she 
slowly unbuttoned the fly of her jeans, and I had a shadowed vista of 
the perfection that was her breasts when she bent forward.  Slowly, 
teasingly, she slid the jeans down over her slender hips and tapered 
thighs until they dropped to the floor.  The rich brown curls of her 
pubis mesmerized me as she stepped out of the puddle of denim around 
her ankles.  Only as she stepped toward the bed did she allow the 
chambray shirt to slide down her arms and fall to the floor behind her.

My eyes drank in the vision before me: the wild mane of brown curls, 
that gorgeous body.  Then she paused to let those blue eyes possess 
mine, and I smiled back, her satisfied smile curving her full, red 
lips.  She stood like Boticelli's Venus and let me memorize the complex 
curves of her marvelous breasts, so proud and full and firm, with a 
slight upward tilt at their ends that left each of her nipples pointing 
slightly up and away from the centerline of her body.  The lustrous 
brown curls at the base of her belly were trimmed neatly, drawing the 
eye, without obscuring the soft folds beneath them.  I followed the 
slender curve of her legs down until I saw the pale pink polish she'd 
applied to her toenails, then looked back to her face and felt my smile 
nearly splitting my face.

Donna stepped quickly to the side of the bed before I could move and 
begin to unbutton my shirt.  She sighed and cooed with pleasure as my 
fingers traced the curves of her torso.  Then she cupped the soft 
weight of her breasts and bent to unbutton and unzip my jeans.  She 
slid my shirt off and tossed it over her shoulder to join hers on the 
floor before pulling me to my feet and kneeling to tug my jeans and 
briefs to the floor.  As I sat back on the bed, she smiled and briefly 
kissed the swollen head of my thoroughly erect cock, her soft breasts 
caressing my thighs.  Finally, she slipped my socks off before pushing 
me onto my back and sliding into the bed on top of me.

My arms went around her waist, my hands sliding down to caress the taut 
curves of her ass, and we shared a kiss as soft and clinging as our 
first.  Her curly bush tickled my balls as we slowly kissed one 
another, tongues playing lazily, lips exploring each other's face and 
neck.  Our hands slowly and softly memorized the curves and hollows of 
our young bodies as we moved toward union.  Without pausing in our 
kisses and caresses, we inched our way to the middle of the bed before 
I turned her onto her back and let my trailing kisses move down her 
throat and lower.  I traced the curve of her collarbones with my tongue 
while her fingers moved through my hair and her sighs filled my ears.

When I reached her breasts, I began to worship them with soft, little 
kisses, each one a discrete pressing of lips and tongue to warm, soft 
skin before moving to the next.  My kisses resolved themselves into a 
pattern, and I felt Donna's anticipation rise as my kisses spiraled 
closer and closer to her erect nipple just as my right hand closed over 
her left breast and felt its hard tip burning into my palm.  I 
flickered my tongue wetly over and around the swollen bud of her 
nipple, drawing a low moan from her throat and causing her to hold my 
mouth more tightly against her breast.  She relented and allowed me to 
move when I kissed across the valley between to devote my attention to 
her other breast, my left hand continuing to tease and caress the one I 
had been kissing.

After several minutes, Donna caught me by surprise and pushed me onto 
my back.  For the first time, I felt the softness of a woman's tongue 
lightly teasing my own nipples and the soft tug as her teeth closed on 
them gently.  I think she could tell by my gasp and the way my cock 
jerked in response that I enjoyed it, because I heard a low chuckle.  
Her thick, dark hair brushed the skin of my belly as she trailed her 
kisses lower.  When I felt the wet warmth of her tongue lapping ever so 
softly in the hollow between my hipbone and the top of my thigh, I 
thought I was about to lose my mind, but Donna was just getting 
started.

"I'm going to make you crazy, lover," she whispered, "and then I'm 
going to make you come in my mouth so that when you finally get inside 
me you don't explode."

She was right, too--she was making me crazy.  She spread my legs and 
nuzzled her nose against my balls, licking them gently.  Her hands 
wandered all over my body, with one exception: she wasn't touching my 
cock with either her hands or her mouth yet.  When I was about to start 
begging for the touch of her lips on my cock, she ran her tongue up its 
underside and then just engulfed the head in her heated mouth, her 
tongue dancing madly over the supersensitive tissue of my swollen 
glans.  Her hand cupped and tickled my aching balls as she sucked me 
into her mouth, her tongue never ceasing its dance around the head and 
shaft of my cock.  It must have taken about a minute, maybe less, 
before I felt my balls tighten, and I nearly shredded the sheets in my 
hands when I began to shoot heavily into her mouth.  She greedily 
sucked up every drop that spurted from me, her sucking slowing and 
becoming more gentle as the spurts subsided, until she left me clean 
except for the moisture of her saliva coating my still semi-erect 
organ.

When my feeble brain resumed its functioning, I took Donna's hands and 
pulled her up beside me.  Her lips were almost feverish when they met 
mine and our kisses so incendiary that I'm surprised the old house 
didn't simply burst into flame.  I began to explore my way down her 
neck, seeking out those little spots where I'd learned she loved to be 
kissed.  Her warm, soft hand caressed my cock back to full hardness 
even before my kisses reached her breasts.

"Mike?  Baby?"

"Um . . . yes, love?" I fluttered the tip of my tongue over and around 
one swollen red nipple.

"Oh, God, that feels good, but, honey, I really wanna feel you inside 
me; we've been waiting too long to put it off anymore."  I couldn't 
disagree.  God knows we'd extended our foreplay long enough.  I knew 
Donna's only reason for the incredible blowjob she'd just given me had 
been to ensure I didn't explode the moment I entered her.

"Donna, I'll confess.  As much as I want to taste you right now, I want 
even more to finally feel myself inside you."  She smiled and squeezed 
my cock playfully.

"Then quit talking and fuck me, damn it!" she giggled as she gently 
guided me between her wet labia.  The heat of her slick inner flesh 
made me moan at that first contact, which would probably have amused 
her if she hadn't been responding in kind.

"Why can't we do both?" I gasped, forcing myself to hold back and enter 
her slowly.  Our hips moved in rhythm already, each of us savoring the 
slow, inch-by-inch merging of our bodies.

"You tease," Donna moaned, her brilliant smile almost melting me with 
its warmth, "let's see how you like it."  And she tightened her inner 
muscles so that I could only withdraw until I was almost out of her, 
before relaxing and allowing me to slide in deeper on the next thrust.

"Oh, you don't want to be teased?" I grinned, thrusting deeper this 
time as I felt her slippery inner walls pulsing around my invading 
cock.  We rocked together slowly until we could feel the meshing of our 
pubic hair and then paused, looking with wonder into each other's eyes.  
The realization that we were finally achieving what we'd sought for so 
long was upon us.

"Baby?" Donna whispered hoarsely, staring into my eyes while my cock 
twitched inside her and her pussy milked me gently with its rhythmic, 
rippling pulsations.

"What, sweetheart?"  I was slowly withdrawing, the silky caress of her 
cunt making the head of my cock swell even more.

"Fuck me--now."

"Like this?"  I thrust myself deep inside her, her hips rising to meet 
mine.

"Deeper," she purred, her heels digging into my ass, her nails digging 
slightly into the sides of my waist.

"Oh fuck yes!"  Both of us thrust against the other, our sweat already 
dampening our skin.

"Fuck!  Harder!" she cried.

"Baby, yes!  God, you feel good!"

Donna whimpered in my ear as I licked and nibbled her breasts.  Our 
hands roamed over each other's body, and we pushed against one another 
harder and faster, gasping and panting.  The big, old bed creaked, 
protesting our athletic endeavors, but we didn't care at that point who 
heard us or what they thought.  All that mattered was the incredible 
waves of pleasure we were feeling and the greater pleasure we 
anticipated.

"Coming!" Donna moaned.  "Oh, baby, fuck me more!"

"Yes, baby, come!"  I could feel the spasms inside her as the first 
string of orgasms led to a second and then a third--and then the CRASH 
as the bottom slat of the bed frame snapped and the mattress fell to 
the floor.

We froze for a moment, staring at each other.  Then, giggling like 
naughty little children, we ignored the interruption and resumed our 
rhythm.  Moans and grunts and whispers of obscene encouragement 
continued as each of us acted as the cheerleader for the other's drive 
to orgasm, and I could sense that Donna was on the edge of another 
wave, when someone knocked at the door.

"Are you guys okay?" I heard Barb, my co-director, laughing from the 
hallway.

"Just fine," Donna giggled so hard she almost forced me out of her.  
"We'll be even better soon."

"Oh!  Well, as long as you're enjoying yourselves . . ."  And the sound 
of laughter faded as we heard the door across the hallway close.

Laughter fought with passion or, more accurately, fed it for some 
perverse reason.  Donna's heels were digging into the small of my back, 
and I was supporting myself above her on my hands, driving into her 
with all my strength now.  We weren't about to allow minor distractions 
like a collapsed bed or the likelihood of being heard to distract us 
now.

"Come for me, Mike!" Donna moaned.  "I'm gonna come again--oh shit!  
Now!"

"Donna!  Come, baby!  Oh, Jesus, I'm almost . . ."  And all I could 
manage was a gasp as I felt my body stiffen, my cock buried deep in her 
spasming pussy.  It felt as though I was shooting my whole being 
through my cock and into her depths as my balls contracted and emptied 
themselves inside her.  I felt her teeth sinking into the meaty part of 
my shoulder and heard her muffled scream.  Our bodies shook like leaves 
in the raw autumn wind for what seemed an eternity.

I collapsed over her, only my elbows supporting my weight so that I 
didn't crush her while we drew great shuddering breaths into our 
starved lungs.  Donna's legs slowly relaxed the death grip they'd held 
on my hips, and we smiled at one another like conspirators whose plot 
had finally succeeded.

I saw Donna's eyes widen and the beginning of her giggle just as 
something icy touched the small of my back, and my shriveling erection 
slipped from her as I howled.

There was Barb, clad in panties and a tee shirt proclaiming "Queen 
Bitch," laughing and holding out a jug of chilled Chablis, already 
dripping with condensation.

"From the sound of things, I thought you guys might need a drink," she 
giggled.  Donna laughed and reached for the bottle.

"I can't imagine what would give you that idea," she laughed as she 
took a deep drink and passed the bottle to me before pulling the 
comforter up against the cool air raising gooseflesh on our naked, 
sweaty bodies.  As I looked from one of them to the other, Barb 
snuggled under the comforter on the other side of me, and Donna told me 
to either take a drink or pass the bottle back, still laughing 
delightedly.

I gave in to the absurdity of the moment and joined in their giggles.  
Donna reached an arm over and hugged Barb and I both when I passed the 
bottle to Barb.  I admit it felt strange to be lying between two women, 
one of them my naked lover and the other my friend and coworker, 
sharing a bottle of wine as though we were sitting on a couch 
discussing the weather.  I found out that Barb, who lived in the same 
dormitory as Donna, had been her confidante as well as mine through our 
weeks of frustration.

"Now that you two have finally released some of those pent-up 
hormones," Barb offered, "I suppose we can either put the bed back 
together or you can just come across the hall and sleep in my room."  
Before I could get a word in, she was tossing Donna her sweater and 
panties and handing me my flannel shirt and the briefs, which had been 
lying in the pile of clothing by the bed.

"I think we'll move in with you, if you don't mind," Donna answered 
with a smile.  As I played the part of the clueless male (no great 
stretch at the time) and tried to frame a response, both women were 
still laughing, and Donna took another long pull at the wine bottle.

"It's not like you and I never slept together, Mike," Barb laughed.

"Yeah, on the couch in the office when we were both too tired to go 
home," I countered.  "This is a little different."

"Relax, baby," Donna giggled from my other side, "I'll be there to 
protect your virtue."  Realizing that they were both serious and 
knowing that Donna and I were probably spent for the night anyway, I 
gave in to the logic of their arguments, and the three of us covered 
ourselves and padded across the hall to Barb's room.  I did gape a bit 
when Barb peeled off her tee shirt before slipping under the covers, 
but Donna just smiled and dropped her sweater onto a chair.  After 
helping me shed the flannel shirt I'd donned, she pushed me into the 
middle of the bed and took the bottle from the blonde imp still 
chuckling on my other side.

The wine and the warmth streaming from the Buck stove soon had their 
effect, and I could feel consciousness slipping away from me even as 
the two women continued talking into the night.

Part Six -- New Beginnings

I was disoriented when I awoke, though I knew wherever I was, it was 
warm and comfortable.  The realization that there was a soft female 
body snuggled up on either side of me caused the whole of the previous 
night to flood back in on me just as Donna kissed my cheek and cuddled 
closer.

"Good morning, love," she whispered.  "Sleep well?"

I kissed her tenderly, those soft, warm lips bringing me fully awake, 
before returning her whispered greeting and assuring her I'd slept like 
a rock.

"Don't bother whispering," Barb muttered sleepily from the other side.  
"I'm awake, too."

I felt the strange sensation of warm, firm breasts pressing into both 
sides of my chest as the two women hugged each other and me, but tried 
to ignore it just as I tried to ignore my morning erection.  The sound 
of sleet striking the window discouraged any of us from wanting to get 
out of the warm bed too soon, but a full bladder and the women's 
insistence that I should feed the baked fire in the stove made it plain 
I was going to have to get up soon.  I tried concentrating on the image 
of the icy sleet outside in an attempt to rid myself of my erection 
before complying, but the feel of their nearly naked bodies on either 
side of me wasn't helping a bit.  Donna reaching down and tracing my 
hard cock with her fingertips through my briefs only made it less 
likely to go away.

"I don't think he wants you to know he's got a hard-on," she told Barb 
in a stage whisper, then laughed.

"Oh shit!" Barb giggled.  "Like I've never felt it poking against my 
butt when we woke up on the couch."  Both of them were taking obvious 
delight in my embarrassment.

"You have to admit that was just a little bit different," I tried to 
protest, but they cut me off.

"We won't make fun of you," Donna assured me, "but you'd better get 
that fire going if you expect either of us to get out of this warm bed 
today."

Aside from a muffled giggle or two, they were true to their word as I 
slipped from the bed with my erection tenting the front of my briefs.  
I fed some wood into the stove and retreated across the hall for our 
jeans before looking for an unoccupied bathroom.  On my way back, I 
detoured downstairs and brought back three large mugs of coffee, but 
they insisted I lose the jeans before they'd let me back under the warm 
blankets.  While we waited for the stove to do its thing, we sipped our 
coffee, and I gradually accepted that my lover and my friend were in 
some sort of conspiracy and all I could do was go along with events.

All too soon, Donny was knocking at the door and calling us downstairs 
for breakfast; then it was another day of cleaning and fixup on the old 
place.  We worked until nearly dark with just a quick break when 
someone delivered McDonald's burgers for lunch.  By late Sunday 
afternoon, the old place was looking pretty good considering most of 
the furnishings were either castoffs or Salvation Army specials.  It 
was a tired but contented group that flopped down in the living room of 
the old house just off campus that served as the new offices of the 
counseling center.  Before everyone dispersed to their own apartments 
and dorms, we devoured a sizable stack of pizzas, shared a few bottles 
of cheap red wine, and Donna and I endured at least six retellings of 
the Saga of the Broken Bed Frame.  I walked Donna and Barb back to 
their dorm and got my customary big parting hug from Barb; then it was 
time to say good night to my darling.

"I hope you weren't too embarrassed about Barb," Donna whispered with a 
smile.  "She's been so sweet to me through this whole thing that I 
couldn't deny her a chance to share in the glow afterward."  She 
wrapped her arms around my neck and melted against my body as we kissed 
tenderly, the hunger we'd felt still there but tempered now with the 
satisfaction of having finally satisfied our desire--at least for the 
moment.

"You forget that Barb is my buddy, too," I grinned back at her as I 
hugged her tightly.  "At least she waited until we were done before she 
decided to join us."  With a long final hug we parted for the night, 
knowing that this was just the first chapter in a new phase of our 
relationship.

Over the next few weeks we fell into a new routine, studying together 
during the week and still necking passionately most nights before we 
parted, but we were much more relaxed now, secure in the knowledge that 
the weekends would be ours to share.  On Friday nights we'd hitch a 
ride with whoever was heading out to the farmhouse and retire early to 
the (now reinforced) bed in what had become "our" room, where we'd make 
love until we dropped into an exhausted sleep.

Saturdays were for working on the house and the grounds, fashioning the 
old place into a retreat center, which was all the more impressive in 
that it was funded almost entirely from the pockets of a bunch of 
college students.  Saturday nights, people would take turns cooking, 
and everyone in residence would sit up late, talking about what had 
happened during the preceding week at the center, politics, music--the 
usual bull sessions that most college students seem to thrive upon.  
Again, Donna and I would slip off to our own little sanctuary and share 
our bodies, our fantasies, and our love until sleep took us away.  Most 
Sundays we were awakened early by Barb sliding into our bed with coffee 
for three, and the three of us would cuddle and talk until breakfast 
time.  Then it was back to work and back to town to start another week.

Part Seven -- Unexpected Developments

One Friday night in early January, shortly after we'd all returned from 
Christmas break, I had the evening shift at the counseling center and 
promised Donna that I had a ride secured and would meet her at the 
farmhouse in time for bed.  When I arrived at the farm about 10:30, 
Sherry, one of the other volunteers, pulled me aside.

"I think you should get upstairs," she told me quietly, a deep frown 
creasing her normally cheerful face.

"I plan to," I replied with what I hoped was a nonchalant smile, 
curious as to what was troubling Sherry but even more anxious to feel 
Donna's naked body in my arms.

"Men!" Sherry snorted, punching me lightly on the shoulder.  "I mean 
that Barb's up there crying on Donna's shoulder and I think Donna could 
use a little help.  You may be a horny bastard, but you're a good 
counselor, and I think Barb needs one tonight."  Concerned now, I 
thanked Sherry for the warning and hauled my backpack up to "our" room.  
Just as she'd said, Donna and Barb were sitting on the big bed, Barb 
now weeping quietly with her blonde head resting on Donna's shoulder.

Donna looked at me as I entered and signaled me to be quiet, but to 
join them, so I slipped quietly onto the bed and gingerly laid my hand 
on Barb's shoulder.  Startled, she turned and looked at me, not even 
realizing at first who had intruded on her grief.  Then recognition set 
in, and she turned from Donna, wrapped her arms around my neck, and 
began to sob openly once again as Donna rubbed her neck and I tried to 
comfort her with hugs.

"That prick she was dating from back home gave her the kiss-off this 
afternoon," Donna told me quietly.  I could see the sparks of anger in 
my lover's normally tranquil blue eyes.  "He didn't even have the 
decency to tell her face-to-face over break; he fucked her all through 
the holidays, then called her this afternoon to tell her he's been 
seeing someone else since November and decided he didn't want to carry 
on a long-distance relationship anymore."

"Oh, Barb, honey," I murmured, stroking her long blonde hair and 
rocking her gently in my arms, "I'm so sorry."  If I could have gotten 
my hands on that asshole right then, I'd have knocked him on his ass 
for causing the pain I saw in her eyes and heard in her voice.

Donna leaned over Barb's shoulder and kissed me softly on the lips.  
Her arms surrounded us both, and she and I did our best to comfort the 
grieving little blonde.  We let her talk it out, offering encouraging 
comments and gentle hugs and caresses until at last she seemed to be 
all cried out for the night.  When Barb reached the stage where she was 
resting passively in my arms, exhausted from crying, Donna slipped 
quietly down to the now-deserted kitchen and brought back a half-empty 
bottle of Chablis from the fridge.  She urged Barb to take a big drink 
before taking one herself, finally passing the bottle to me.  She was 
as tender as a mother with a newborn infant when she fetched a 
washcloth from the bathroom and wiped Barb's tear-streaked face while 
Barb leaned back against my chest.

Barb accepted her ministrations like a child, offering her face to the 
cloth and then settling back to snuggle up against my chest.  
Wordlessly, Donna signed for me to stretch out on the bed, and Barb 
followed my lead, curling up between Donna and me.  I figured she'd 
probably be asleep soon from sheer exhaustion and realized Donna was 
planning on Barb spending the night in our bed.

I wasn't surprised when Donna quietly urged Barb to raise her hips 
while she pulled the blonde woman's blue jeans down and dropped them on 
the floor.  Then, ever so gently, she eased her out of the white 
peasant blouse she was wearing, leaving Barb lying there in pink cotton 
panties.  What did surprise me was Donna coming around the bed to kiss 
me softly, then moving toward the bedroom door.

"Honey? . . ." I whispered, puzzled.

"You be sweet to her, you hear?" Donna told me quietly.  "I think she 
needs to be reminded that not all men are shits right now.  I'll be 
across the hall in her bed when you wake up."

"But, Donna, I don't think . . ." I protested.

"You sure don't, baby, but I love ya anyway," she giggled.  "I know you 
love me, Mike, but you love Barb, too, in a way."  She came back to the 
bedside and kissed me deeply.  "Now's the time for you to be here for 
her, when she really needs you.  I'm not saying she's gonna want your 
body, or anyone else's, tonight, but if she does, don't you be mean to 
her, is that understood?"  Donna slipped across the hall and was gone.

Oh well, I thought, it's not like I haven't slept with the woman 
before--even wearing as little as she's wearing now.  And Donna's 
right, she needs someone to hold her tonight and reassure her that 
she's still loved.  (Isn't rationalization a wonderful thing?)

Whatever the reason, I stretched out on the bed and took Barb in my 
arms, her face nestled against the front of my shirt.  I think I had 
every intention of going to sleep, just cuddling her as I had so many 
nights back at the counseling center.  I knew she'd had a terrible 
evening, and I truly was concerned that this young women, one of my 
closest friends, had been so deeply hurt.  Whether she'd discussed them 
with Donna earlier or not, apparently Barb had other ideas.

I had just gotten comfortable and was about to start drifting off to 
sleep when it dawned on me that Barb was awake.  I think my first clue 
was when she began to unbutton my shirt and I felt her warm, wet tongue 
teasing one of my nipples.  I do remember an involuntary "Oh God" 
creeping past my lips at about that point.  As she unbuttoned and 
kissed her way down my chest, I pushed her straight blonde hair aside 
and kissed the nape of her neck.  Barb kept kissing further down my 
chest and belly, and I kissed and licked my way down her back, just as 
she was doing, until teasing turned to hunger and we twisted around on 
our sides so that her soft blonde fur was tickling my nose.

Even as Barb was spreading her thighs on either side of my head, I felt 
her tongue lapping softly around the crown of my cock.  Her scent drew 
me in like a moth to the flame, my tongue flicking out to taste her as 
I parted her lips delicately with my fingers.  We started softly, 
teasingly, but it didn't last long before we were each trying to devour 
the other's sex, our hands moving over one another's bodies.  Barb's 
juices were thick and hot, almost syrupy, with a scent and taste that 
made me want to crawl inside her.  She was moaning loudly around my 
cock, which she'd managed to get almost all the way into her mouth, and 
her head was bobbing rapidly back and forth.  Although this was 
incredibly arousing to me, I knew I was a long way from coming.  Barb 
seemed to have no such inhibitions--several times I felt her stiffen 
and shiver while I teased and explored her with my tongue.

"Fuck me, Mike," she panted when she finally let me slip from her lips 
for a moment.  "I just want to fuck like bunnies and forget everything 
else for a while."

Only too happy to oblige, I disengaged from our sixty-nine and slipped 
behind Barb where she knelt in the middle of the bed.  Her hand reached 
for me and guided me to her entrance.  I felt her opening around me as 
we pushed against each other, and in seconds I was deep inside her, 
both of us thrusting together as if to merge our bodies into one flesh.  
The rhythmic sounds of our coupling were only broken when one or the 
other of us would shift into a new position as we sought to increase 
each other's pleasure and our own.  Soon enough Barb's short, unpainted 
nails were digging into my shoulders as she arched beneath me, at the 
same time that I felt myself shuddering all over and emptying myself 
into her clutching depths.

Exhausted but far from sated, we collapsed together in a tangled heap, 
hands still exploring and caressing and mouths meeting in a long, wet 
kiss even as we gasped for breath.

"Mike, I love you," Barb said, smiling and letting a tear trickle down 
her cheek.  "Not that I want to take you from Donna--I love both of you 
so much.  But you've made me feel so loved--so desirable--when I felt 
so shitty earlier tonight."

"You are loved, babe," I smiled back at her.  "You know how much I care 
about you, and obviously Donna does, too"

"Donna--my God, the poor silly bitch is sleeping all alone in the other 
room on what's supposed to be her big night of the week!"

"Well apparently she felt you needed it more than she did tonight.  
I'll just have to be extra nice to her tomorrow, or rather today."

"Ummmmm . . ."

"What is it, Barb?"

"Does she have to wait?  I bet we could wake her up really nicely."

I sat bolt upright in the bed and looked at Barb, who smiled back at me 
like the Cheshire cat.  I couldn't believe it.  Barb and I had been 
making love for nearly an hour, and here I thought she'd really been 
into it.  Was she telling me she was a lesbian and had only been 
fucking me to get to my girlfriend?  My confusion must have been as 
plain as though it had been printed on my face, because Barb began to 
laugh quietly and wrapped her arms around me to pull me down into a 
hug.

"Are you gonna tell me you wouldn't like to make it with both of us 
together?" she asked me, giggling.

"You're bi?"  I knew I was looking at her like a typical stupid male, 
but what the hell, I was a typical stupid male.

"Does that freak you out?  More to the point, do you think it would 
freak Donna out?"

I had to admit that I had no idea how Donna would react to another 
woman making love to her, with or without me present.  I didn't have to 
tell Barb how much the idea turned me on, as the answer to that 
question was pulsing insistently against the soft skin of her belly.

I pulled on my jeans, Barb wrapped herself in the sheet, and we slipped 
across the darkened hallway into the room that was normally Barb's.  
Donna was burrowed down under the covers, curled up in a ball like a 
sleeping kitten with only the dark mop of curls showing above the top 
of the quilt.  As quietly as possible, Barb and I slipped under the 
covers on either side of her and snuggled up close.  Donna murmured 
something in her sleep and burrowed her face into my shoulder, one hand 
slipping down to curl lightly around my semi-erect cock, but there was 
no sign of her waking out of her sound slumber.  I saw Barb looking at 
me with raised eyebrows as if to ask whether I thought we should wake 
her or let her sleep.  I shrugged and smiled at her in the semi-
darkness; having agreed to this, I wasn't willing to wait too long for 
Donna's reaction.

I let my hands begin to wander over her body, tracing her lovely curves 
so lightly I was barely touching her skin.  Occasionally, my hand met 
Barb's as she was also exploring the sleeping form between us, and we'd 
pause to exchange a caress.  After a minute or two of this delicate 
treatment, Donna's face turned upward, and her lips met mine; then her 
eyes opened, and I could feel her smile against my lips.  Sudden 
awareness seemed to awaken her fully, and she looked over her shoulder 
at Barb nestled up behind her and smiling.

"I hope this ape was nice to you, sweetheart," she whispered to Barb 
even as her hand was bringing me to full erection again.

"Oh, he was, girl, he was!" Barb replied with a giggle.  Donna turned 
onto her back, and Barb and I each laid our head on opposite shoulders 
as her arms went around us and hugged us tightly.

"See, Baby?" Donna turned to me with a smile.  "That wasn't so hard, 
was it?"

"No, honey, it was fine once I was sure you were okay with it."

"In fact," Barb added, "that's why we're here--I didn't want to wait 
until morning to thank you for being so generous when I really needed 
it."  Her fingers passed over and around Donna's on my shaft and balls, 
and I could feel Donna caressing Barb's hand much as Barb and I had 
traded caresses while we were stroking Donna just minutes earlier.  
That she had no problem sharing me with Barb had been plain since the 
moment she'd walked out of the other bedroom, but I was still uncertain 
how she'd feel about the three of us sharing a bed for something more 
than cuddling and conversation.

That issue seemed to be resolving itself, too, when Donna turned to 
Barb and the little blonde kissed her gently.  I could see Donna's lips 
part a fraction of a second before Barb's, and the thought of my girl 
sharing a French kiss with my good friend caused my erection to twitch 
in anticipation of more to come.  When they broke the kiss, Donna 
turned to look at me inquiringly, and I smiled at her.

"Like Barb said, she wanted to thank you," I whispered, "and I agreed 
that it shouldn't be put off until morning."

"Well, I didn't think the two of you woke me in the middle of the night 
because you had an overwhelming desire for conversation," Donna purred.  
"At least you'd better not have--not after getting me so aroused."

That seemed to eliminate any hesitation on my part or Barb's.  We both 
began to caress Donna, who seemed to relish being the center of our 
attention and absorbed our affection like a sponge.  She kissed me 
deeply, then turned to Barb and kissed her just as passionately before 
pulling the two of us close enough that we could share a kiss across 
her recumbent form.

From that point on, things are a little less distinct in my memory.  
Oh, there are moments that are still vivid in my mind--Barb's tongue 
meeting mine over the hard nub of Donna's clit and the incredible 
sensation of two warm, wet tongues caressing my cock--but most of the 
details are lost in a sensual haze.  When I finally jetted my semen 
deep inside Donna's spasming vaginal sheath, she was busy bringing Barb 
off with her fingers, while Barb's fingers were caressing the two of us 
at the point where we were joined.  Sated, or maybe just exhausted 
physically and emotionally, the three of us fell asleep in a tangled 
heap as soon as I'd drawn the covers back up over us.

I wasn't certain as I drifted off what the future would bring, but I 
hoped the three of us would be able to hold on to what we'd felt that 
night.  It wasn't only the incredible sensations inherent in making 
love to two lovely and responsive women at once, but the emotional bond 
I'd felt rippling among us as well.  I knew it wouldn't always be easy, 
but something told me the three of us had something more than lust and 
a love of exploration in common.

The coming weeks and months would test us singly and together, and 
there were pitfalls and triumphs ahead we could never have foreseen 
that night, but for the time being we simply curled up together and 
slept, willing to face the future as it came.

[Donna, Mike, and Barb will return.  Their story is just beginning.]

[AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Shack is no longer there, having finally succumbed 
to "progress" and the dominance of the fast food chains.  But Mort 
Walker, who took up sculpture in his later years, created a bronze in 
1992 that will forever memorialize that glorious beer and burger joint.  
It depicts young Mizzou freshman Beetle Bailey sitting in one of The 
Shack's dark wood booths, carving his initials into the table for 
posterity.  Who knows, maybe he was leaving his mark just before paying 
a visit to his sister Lois and her new husband Hi en route to Camp 
Swampy and forty years as a private in the Army.  The sculpture sits in 
Pocket Park on the Mizzou campus.]
--------------------------------
NOTE TO READERS: This story is set in a time before the beginning of 
the AIDS epidemic. Even then, unprotected sex carried a serious risk 
of contracting a sexually transmitted disease such as syphilis or 
gonorrhea. 

Today, HIV may linger undetected in the bloodstream of an infected 
individual for ten years or longer. Some infected persons never do 
develop full-blown AIDS, but they can still pass on the virus. 
Because there is no cure for AIDS available today, or any sign that 
one will be available in the foreseeable future, having unprotected 
sex is not just careless, it's almost criminally negligent. There 
are only two ways by which you can significantly reduce the risk of 
AIDS: abstinence from sex outside a committed monogamous relationship 
and the use of condoms. If your partner objects to using condoms, 
FIND ANOTHER PARTNER! Sex shouldn't be literally "to die for."
