THE USUAL WARNINGS:

This is a work of fiction by a twisted mind.  If you
are offended by graphic descriptions of natural and/or
unnatural sexual acts, if you are underage, or if this
type of material is illegal where you are, don't read
any further.

This is a fantasy.  You will have to loosen your clench
on reality a little when you read it. This is a tale in
which physical acts and human responses are not limited
to, nor necessarily based in, reality.  Some acts and
responses in this story may be physically impossible
and/or physiologically improbable.

Also, as is the case with most of the stories in this
newsgroup, women in this story tend to be beautiful -
gorgeous, even.  Gravity has not caused breasts to
droop nor have wrinkles creased unblemished faces.  The
men (the leading men, at least) are hung like bulls.
They can get it up and keep it up often and at will.
In this special little fantasyland all sex is safe sex
as there are no STDs, morals, or unwanted pregnancies.
Guilt is a four-letter word.  Most important of all,
neither strength of character, courage of convictions,
nor moral beliefs stand a chance against even the
slightest erotic stimulus.  This can be as benign as an
accidental glimpse of a bared ankle or as stimulating
as a whipping on the genitals.

For those of you who didn't understand the preceding
statements, GO AWAY!

This story is intended for the salacious entertainment
of consenting adults.  Do not try to do any of the
things described in this story.  You could injure
yourself or your partner, be arrested, or shot by her
father....

If you are under 18 years of age, GO AWAY!  This story
will burn your eyeballs and fry your brain.

If material of a strong sexual nature is prohibited
where you are, GO AWAY!

By continuing, the reader accepts all responsibility
for any disgust, revulsion, jail sentences, or pleasure
that results from reading this story.  If you don't, GO
AWAY!

You have been warned!

If you enjoy this story and feel the irresistible urge
to post it on a <free> site, at least give me
(NightShade) credit for it.

So, stick your tongue firmly in your cheek and enjoy
the story!....:)

NightShade

















My Condition

by NightShade
August, 2002

My first time was a mercy fuck.  Sort of.  What made it
worse was that all I could think while it was happening
was that this could very well be the greatest fuck of
my life, possibly of all time.  What would I have to
look forward to after this?

I had finished my first year of university at State and
was spending the summer with my Dad.  There was a
University extension program located in his town and I
wanted to take a summer course or two.  Since I was a
full time student at State, it didn't cost any extra
for the summer school, and as long as I could stay at
his apartment for free, it would be cheap.

What I didn't realize was how boring it would be.  I
didn't know anyone in town, and the people at the
school were all pretty much self-absorbed.  Of course,
I didn't try all that hard to get to know them, either,
but still, they were the only human contact I had,
pretty much.

Dad was working long hours, so I never saw him much
either.  He had moved out of state to live here when I
was beginning high school, about five years ago, I
guess.  It was hard on the whole family, being so far
apart like that.  We were just another family living
the American Nightmare.  Dad was working really hard to
support all of us - voluntary, not court-ordered, and
it was especially a strain on him.  So if I could get
some cheap courses and maybe finish college before my
brother started, I figured a little boredom was a small
price to pay.

You see, it was my fault Dad had left Mom and us in the
first place.  Yeah, I know all kids in divorced
families feel that way sometimes, but I was pretty
certain I was at fault here.  Or, at least, my
condition was.  It was pretty clear to me from early on
that Mom didn't deal with my condition very well.  Deep
down I think she thought I was a pervert or something.
Dad, like most dads I guess, just ignored my condition
and treated me like a regular kid.  While he was still
living with us, he used to enroll me in sports and we
worked on model cars and planes together.  Stuff like
that.  Oh, and he introduced me to heavy-duty,
reinforced jock straps probably before most boys get
them.  In a way, I wish Mom had just ignored it, too,
but given her strict upbringing, I suppose it wasn't
possible for her to look the other way.

I had been a fairly normal kid until I hit puberty.
Then, on the first day of sixth grade, "IT" happened.
I remember it as if it had happened yesterday...

Debbie Grogan, my girlfriend from the fifth grade, had
sprouted a good-sized pair of tits over the summer.  I
guess she was pretty proud of them, because she was
strutting around like a peacock, shoving them at
everyone. Unfortunately, my hormones chose the very
moment she was thrusting them at me to kick in and I
got my first woody.  It was hot and I was wearing thin
nylon shorts.  On top of that, Mom had been expecting
me to have a growth spurt that year and all my clothes
were a little large.  OK, a lot large.  My undershorts
included.  `Baggy' is the term that comes to mind.  As
I hadn't started the anticipated growth spurt yet, I
was, for all intents and purposes on that first day of
school, hanging free.  And of course, when it went
stiff, it headed for the wide open spaces.

When sweet innocent Debbie came over and rubbed her
brand new boobs all over my arms and back, I was left
standing there with what felt like a hardon to rival a
great Sequoia.  Debbie, sweet little innocent Debbie,
just happened to notice my dick sticking out the leg of
my shorts and she started screaming.  Like, what?  She
was the only one who had been able to grow something
during the summer?  I still think, as I look back on
that life-altering moment, that she was screaming in
excitement, not fear.

The so-called education professional assigned to
encumber our learning process that year, Miss Blechert,
however, misinterpreted her reaction, or quite possibly
substituted Debbie's reaction with her own, and
immediately slapped me.  In the nuts.  Hard.  Twice.

The only reason she couldn't knee me in the balls - she
tried - was because I was by then rolling on the ground
holding my hands over my crotch, screaming louder than
the both of them.  I was in serious pain, and that was
before she had played handball with my family jewels.
I had no idea a hardon was supposed to hurt this bad.
All I could think of was how tough my Dad must be to
get it on with Mom three or four times a week and not
let us hear him screaming in pain.

All together, it was a memorable first day of school.

But the worst was yet to be discovered.  After everyone
else had calmed down, I didn't.  I couldn't.  It hurt.
I just barely managed to stand semi-upright and Miss
Blechert was so incensed that I was still at full
staff, she sent me to the Principal's Office.  When I
tried to walk out of the room with that log sticking
out of my groin, it was painful and awkward.  I
obviously wasn't fast enough for her, so she aided my
progress by lifting me by one ear (she had voted for
LBJ), the protrusion on my body furthest from my
engorged prick.

It was humiliating enough to be hauled down to the
Principal's Office, much less literally dragged there.
Miss Blechert made it even better by loudly castigating
me and all filthy men everywhere for the entire length
of the normally silent hallway.  Several of the other
teachers poked their heads out of their classroom doors
to see which deserving child had managed to be sent to
the gallows on the very first day of school.  That was
almost unheard of.  Some of the curious onlookers
seemed rather impressed I was able to occasionally
touch the ground with a toe or two as I was escorted to
my doom.

Principal Moffett yelled at me for a while, with no
visible effect.  I was still as outstanding a student
as before he began.  He was a giant of a man, still
retaining some basic upper body musculature from his
football hero days.  He loomed over all of us kids, in
a benevolent sort of way, usually.  I think that it
worried him, however, my lack of a suitable reaction,
that he might be losing his touch.  Or it could have
been that, being a guy, he could sympathize with me,
though he probably had no idea about the pain I was in.
Normally he could scare the shit out of any of us kids
by simply glowering at us.  That morning I just stood
there staring down at my throbbing woody, now decently
covered and tenting out my thin shorts, with no
apparent physical response to his presence but the
tears streaming down my face.  It eventually began to
concern him.

After several minutes of manly silence, both of us
standing in his stifling office waiting for a
retraction that never came, he finally he called in the
school nurse.  Nurse Black stood there with this
horrified look, staring at my bulging crotch, a
reaction with which I was to become extremely familiar.

Next came ... `the finger.'  That long, bony digit that
all mature women seem to develop, and Nurse Black's
seemed very well developed to me that morning.  The
finger is used to express their extreme displeasure and
disgust, especially of naughty little boys who can't
control themselves, by shaking it in their faces,
wagging it like a pendulum, coming as close to the eyes
as possible.  That didn't work either, and she had to
resort to other means to try to reduce the swelling.

First I was subjected to an extremely cold ice pack.
She refused to touch me "down there," so she took an
Ace bandage and wrapped one, then two chunks of dry ice
tightly to my crotch.  It looked like I was wearing a
smoking diaper.  The pain suddenly went away after
about an hour, although I was as swollen as ever.  I
nearly got frostbite she kept the ice pack on there so
long, but it never went down.

When that didn't work, she pulled out the big threat.
If I couldn't control myself, she said, she was going
to call my mother.  Normally this is when most kids
buckle, but I didn't.  I did wet my pants, but that was
only because they hadn't allowed me to go to the
bathroom for 3 hours and it was after lunch.  If she
was flustered before, after I piddled she went
ballistic.

I never learned exactly what she said on the phone, but
both Mom and Dad showed up at the school at about the
same time, tires screeching and smoking, nearly
colliding with each other as they braked to a stop in
the visitor's parking spaces in front of the school.  I
watched it all unfold from a damp plastic chair in the
Nurse's office as Nurse Black met them outside, arms
akimbo, gesticulating and animated.

However traumatic the events of that day were, what I
remember most about that day, what I have carried with
me since then, was the look of abject shame on my
Mother's face when she first came into the room to see
her defective son.  She never lost that look whenever
she looked at me from that time until this.  Yeah, I
was still her baby boy, but I was broken.

I didn't understand it.  It wasn't that big of a thing.
Really!  I was 12 years old and it was maybe 3 inches
long when fully blown, which, incidentally, I wouldn't
be until much, much later.  I honestly couldn't see
what the big fuss was all about.

After several weeks of hospitals, clinics, staying home
from school, lectures from three clergy men about the
evils of masturbation, an exorcism or two and constant
tormenting and heckling from the other kids in the
neighborhood, a bright young doctor finally diagnosed
me with priapism.  Erectus Permanentus.  Named for the
Roman God 'Priapus.'

I can imagine a lot of you guys out there are whooping
it up, wishing you could be so lucky.  And after your
usual once-a-week five minutes of fame, some of your
girlfriends no doubt are wishing the same thing, but
with different motives.  But believe me when I tell
you, you don't want this.

First, it hurts like Hell, or was supposed to.  From
what the doctor told my Dad - Mom had run screaming
from the room - I was lucky.  Whether it was from the
ice pack or just me, he couldn't say, but normally this
condition was extremely - EXTREMELY - painful.  It was
rare, unheard of, in fact, that mine wasn't painful.
About the only treatment for priapism is surgery, which
would have left me essentially with a limp hose, only
good for pissing.  No procreational activities at all.
But, as the pain wasn't bothering me, he didn't
recommend it just for cosmetic purposes.

Second, from that moment on, I had no social life.
What father would allow his daughter to go out with a
guy with a permanent hardon, much less be seen with
him?  Forget about going to anyone's house after school
or their parents letting them come to mine.

Third, I couldn't participate in sports, which I had
been showing a real flare for up to that time.  Running
was too painful, swimming was too revealing, diving
made an after-splash that took points off my score.
Bowling?  No.  Golf?  Come on, get real.  I would have
gotten a penalty for having too many clubs.  No one
would wrestle me in my weight class.  No one, that is,
except Justin, and I wouldn't even go into the shower
room with him, much less let him get his hands on me.

The end result of all this was that I was terminally
shy, which was more the result of being so embarrassed,
so continually humiliated by people's reactions rather
than a natural shyness.  I found it was just easier if
I didn't draw attention to myself.

Dad took a lot of crap from Mom in those next three or
so years.  She may have been ashamed of me, but she
blamed him like it was somehow his fault.  I found out
later that she freaked out whenever he got an erection,
afraid she would find him in the same situation as I
was in.  He held out as long as he could, then accepted
a transfer out of state.  I could tell he felt like he
was abandoning me.  He tried to get her to let me live
with him, but Mom wasn't thinking clearly.  So he just
left.

Masturbation, the traditional pastime of youth, was
absolutely out of the question for me.  It wasn't until
I was a senior in high school that I learned, to my
great relief, in more ways than one, that I could
ejaculate with digital stimulation.  I had had wet
dreams, for sure.  But until that day in the shower,
the only place safe from Mom's sudden and frequent
inspections for impropriety on my part, I wasn't really
sure I could squirt my juice and not be permanently
damaged.  Well, more than I was, anyway.  Boy, was I
relieved.

I did a lot of weight lifting and I studied hard in
high school.  They were about my only outlets, since I
had no friends and couldn't masturbate.  I was
reasonably good-looking, not that it did me any good,
but at least I wasn't carrying that burden around, too.
I had inherited my Mom's dark Mediterranean coloring.
She said her father's family was from somewhere in
Italy, but her maiden name was O'Rourke.  Oh, well.
Fortunately I had inherited my Dad's brains, not that
Mom was dumb, but, well...  Dad always told me I was
smarter than he was at my age and that made me feel
pretty good.  Unlike my two siblings, who seemed to
have gotten the reverse combination.  Not that my Dad
was ugly either, but it just didn't work for my sister.
Even I felt sorry for her.  Occasionally.

With my looks every new girl in school would eventually
hit on me, especially when they figured out I was
available.  It got to be predictable.  She would
indicate her interest, I would try to blend in with the
wall paper, she would persist and, in her mind, throw
herself at me.  Then some well-meaning soul would take
her aside, sometimes right in front of me like I was a
door or something, whisper in her ear and point at me.
A couple of shakes of her head 'no' in disbelief
followed like clockwork.  It got to the point that the
informers would hold up their hands, like they were
telling a fishing story or something.  I only wish I
was that long or thick.

The doomed relationships usually ended with a tearful
"How could you do this to me?" scene at the earliest
possible moment, often very public.  Always traumatic.
Deep down, I never did give up hope of just being a
normal teenager and it always hurt me.

After a couple of those wonderful events, I simply
wanted to be left alone more than ever.  I was
successful, for the most part.  Maybe too successful.
I had no friends but the guys in the chess club when I
left town for college.  Those geeks all went to MIT or
Stanford, places like that, and when the time came to
go back home for the summer or stay with Dad, I took
the opportunity to not be with Mom.

Everything was going pretty good, too.  I was ahead of
schedule in my self-taught courses, not having anything
else to do with my time, and the summer school academic
standards were pretty lame, besides.  By July Fourth, I
had taken my finals and suddenly realized I had the
whole rest of the summer stretching out in front of me.

Believe it or not, Dad understood a little of what I
was going through.  Of course, deep inside, I still
think he thought I was just a really horny little
bastard and that one day I would outgrow it.  Like bed-
wetting or something.  I think that's what everyone
thought, even the doctor who diagnosed me.  Especially
since the pain had never come back.  I don't think he
really thought it was a true priapic condition, other
than the fact I was stiff 24/7.

I thought my idyllic summer had ended when Dad
announced he was going to have to leave town for
several months.  He must have seen the look of panic on
my face when I concluded he was not going to let me
stay in his apartment alone for the rest of the summer.
The sudden prospect of going home was too onerous,
especially after having lived with him the first part
of the summer and without Mom's shame-filled eyes for
even longer.

"I think we can work something out, get someone to look
after you, John," he said.

"Dad, I don't need a babysitter!  I'm almost 19!  I
lived all by myself at school for a whole year,
almost."

"Yes, you did," he said.  "And there is a cafeteria
where you could eat, a janitor to fix the boiler when
the heat went out, and a floor monitor to make sure
nothing happened to you.  You're in transition to be on
your own, son.  But not yet."

"But, Dad....," I protested, not really being able to
refute him.

He was right.  Of the four guys in my suite at the
dormitory, I was the most incompetent.  I could burn
the water making tea.  Milk soured before I got it
home.  If I thought about making an omelet, the eggs
would crack open in the carton rather than suffer the
indignity of ending up in one of my creations.  I won't
even begin to mention the laundry.

"My secretary, Lisa, from work, has agreed to look in
on you from time to time while I'm gone.  With both me
and my boss away from the office on this assignment,
there won't be that much for her to do."  He grinned
sadly at the obvious look of relief on my face as it
dawned on me that I didn't have to go to Mom's house.
I wasn't even sorry I couldn't hide my feelings from
him.

He continued.  "She's interning with us this summer.
If I'm not mistaken, I think she goes to State, too.
You may even know her."

I for damn sure didn't know any girls at State, let
alone someone named Lisa.  "I don't think so, Dad.
It's a big campus, and I don't get out much."

"Well, she just finished her Junior year, so she is a
couple of years ahead of you.  Maybe she can show you
around town, introduce you to some kids your own age.
She grew up around here."

"Oh.  OK."  I was already planning on how to ditch her,
to keep our interaction to a minimum.  Like most
teenagers, I had learned early on that the less said to
parents the better.

Dad finished packing, left me a wad of cash, and headed
out the door.  I watched from four stories up as his
boss, Bill Nagi, pulled up to the front of our
apartment building and picked him up in his brand new
BMW 750i.  Dad looked up at me just as he got in and
waved.  Then he was gone, headed for the airport.

I promptly forgot about Lisa.

The persistent buzzing of the doorbell gradually made
its way into my consciousness.  It was a long trip.
Four pepperoni and anchovy pizzas and two six packs -
they don't check ID when you have the beer delivered! -
the night before plus watching TV until 4:30 in the
morning had left my brain a bit fuzzy.  My mouth, too.
In fact, my whole body felt fuzzy.  The buzzing of the
doorbell sounded fuzzy.

Scraping my face up off the hardwood floor, I left the
puddle of drool to dry as I stumbled to the door.
Whoever it was that was creating that racket was going
to get a piece of my mind if it was the last one I had.
I was already forming the words in my mouth when I
opened the door.

".............."  I was suddenly speechless.  Not a
word would come out, could come out.  Struck as dumb as
Saul was blind on the road to Damascus.

"Hi!" she said way too loudly for 1:00 in the
afternoon.  "I'm Lisa!"

Even as she shouted at me, I could tell she had that
kind of a voice that made you think of strawberries.
Sweet, but with just a hint of early summer morning
tartness, full of life and vibrant.  Succulent and
juicy.  I had to clench my teeth to keep from throwing
up the last six pieces of pizza.  They weren't sitting
well on my stomach.

Without asking, she walked past me into the apartment.
She was tall, I noticed.  Almost as tall as me because
I could look her finely shaped eyebrows straight in the
eye.  If they hadn't been colored a darker shade, I
have no doubt that they would have been nearly
transparent as she had that shade of hair that seemed
to shimmer, then disappear into a halo of light.  Light
that was blasting in through the windows now that she
had opened the curtains.

I doubled over in sudden urgency and rushed to the
bathroom where I deposited the meddlesome slices of
pizza.  I flushed, washed the bile from my mouth,
chipped off the worse of the fuzz from my teeth and
face with toothbrush and razor, in the proper order,
thank God, and went back out into the living room.

She was sitting amidst the detritus of last night's
binge, her back to me.  I couldn't believe it but she
was cleaning up!  She didn't look the domestic type.
Trophy case, maybe, but definitely not a dowdy
housewife type.  She was neatly stacking the pizza
boxes and throwing the empty beer cans in a handy
plastic bag she found on the floor.

"Here, take these to the trash," she said, pointing at
the boxes and handing me the rattling bag of empties.
"Quite a party last night, huh?"

I mumbled something in response as I took the garbage
to the trash chute and dumped the whole armload down.
The cacophony it made as it crashed the four stories
made me grab my head.  I managed not to throw up again,
but just barely.

"You don't recycle in this building?" she asked me.
She had followed me into the utility area.  A smile
that somehow avoided being smug played with the corners
of her delicate mouth as she pointedly looked at the
trash chute.  The recycling schedule was plainly
printed on the door of the trash chute.  Monday for
cans, Tuesday for plastics, Wednesday for paper and so
on.  Fuck it.  Let the Spotted Owls and Snail Darters
sort it out.

I stood there dumbly and looked at her with my blurry
eyes.  I shrugged.  She giggled.  It was a teasing
little sound.  It made me open my eyes a bit wider to
see just what she was laughing at.  Thank God, she was
laughing at me and not my raging hardon.  In fact,
other than a brief glance downward as she passed me
standing at the door of the apartment, I didn't think
she had looked at my crotch twice.  I had noticed a
slight upward twitch of the corners of her lips as she
had looked that once, but morning woodies were
apparently something she was familiar with.

"Come on, let's go," she announced suddenly.  "Your dad
wanted me to show you around."  As abruptly as she had
spoken, she turned and headed out the door.  She didn't
act like she was used to not being followed.  It wasn't
a matter of obedience or domination but I got the
distinct impression she didn't hear the word "No" very
often.

I followed her out, locking the apartment behind me.
Had I been more awake, I probably would have inquired
where we were headed.  As it was, I was in my jeans,
sandals and an aged T-shirt, the bottom edge of which
had served as my napkin last night and was wafting
pizza grease and spilled beer foam.  At least it
covered the BO reeking from my armpits.  Kind of.

I followed her out the front door and watched as she
got into a new BMW 750i.  Oh, Shit, shit, shit!  Lisa
was Lisa Nagi, my Dad's boss's daughter.  Could it get
any more fucked up?

I don't remember much of the ride she took me on
through town.  I remembered she talked a lot, waved her
arms, and that she smelled wonderful.  Even with my
head pounding, my heart sinking at her undeniable
untouchability, my head still throbbing with every bump
and turn in the road, I could tell she smelled great.
Even over the pizza fumes.

I was sitting with my eyes closed, inhaling deep
breaths of her, when I realized the car had stopped.
It had been stopped for a while.  I turned to look out
the passenger side window when I heard a knock from
that direction.

"You coming?" she asked.  Again, she just turned and
walked away, expecting me to follow.

I got out of the car and staggered at the bright light
assaulting me.  We were standing in front of this huge
museum.  I groaned at the thought of having to look at,
much less appreciate anything other than the backside
of my eyelids.  I had seen her head off to a side
entrance, through a wrought-iron gate, so I allowed my
hopes to rise and permitted myself to believe there
would be a magical pharmacy hidden back there.

Moving my feet was a chore, but eventually I got the
hang of it.  I stumbled as best I could after the
fleeing figure of Lisa.  There wasn't a magical
pharmacy hidden behind the gate, but a beautiful lush
green garden with birds shouting and screaming
everywhere.  I held my hands to my ears to block out
the horrible singing.  All I accomplished was to trip
over one of the cracks in the stepping stones in the
pathway and land face down in the frigid waters of the
Koi pond.  OK, tepid waters, but you land face down in
water with the mother of all hangovers and then tell me
the difference.

It did wake me up some and after that one searing pain
that takes the top of your head off and makes all your
hair stand on end, complete with a blood curdling
scream, I was able to think more clearly.  Trouble was,
I now had no idea where I was or which direction Lisa
had gone.  I was going to be lost in this jungle of
howling songbirds the rest of my life.

"John?  You OK?" came a sweet voice through the bushes.

Ah, yes, strawberries.  Lisa, the goddess of the BMW.
Now I remembered.  "Umph," I grunted back, still as
articulate as ever.

"Oh, silly!  You fell in Daddy's fish pond!" she
laughed as she came back along the path.

What?  Her Dad lived in a museum?

"Here.  Let me help you up."

I took the proffered hand and hauled myself out of the
pool.  It wasn't that deep but the sides were slippery.
I followed her wonderful ass the rest of the way around
the building.

The intensity of the laser-like light reflecting off
the water in the immaculate pool in the rear of the
house/museum nearly blinded me again.  I got a hand up
just in time to keep from permanently searing my
retinas.

"The changing rooms are over there.  I think there
should be something in there your size."  I saw her
pointing to a pool house bigger than my Mom's place.  I
wandered over in the general direction she was
pointing, saw the 'Men' figure on one of the doors and
pushed my way in.

I'll say one thing.  I was wrong about money.  You
*can* do something to make a locker room look good.  It
even smelled expensive.  Paneled walls, oak lockers and
benches, gleaming floor-to-ceiling mirrors all around,
stacks of clean, thick towels - the big, fluffy kind.
No dog-eared corners on the carpets, no graffiti.
Hell, you couldn't even see the seams where the two
carpet sections met, though I knew there must have been
at least two pieces joined together.  The room was that
wide.

There was an assortment of swimming trunks, all new,
hanging on a rack.  I found one in my size, got out of
my wet clothes and put the suit on.  From my
reflections in the full-length mirrors that surrounded
me on all sides I could see I was in big trouble.  I
knew that immediately.  I hadn't picked a Speedo style
suit, but the trunks were a lot tighter than any I had
ever worn before.  But they were the loosest ones
there.

I looked longingly at my mud-stained wet jeans.  I
don't know what made me wear the trunks anyway, despite
my better judgment.  Perhaps I still wasn't thinking
clearly what with my hangover.  Besides, my clothes
were soaked and muddy from falling in the fish pond.  I
had to wear something, didn't I?

Or maybe it was Lisa.  She was such a 'babe,' though
even I knew better than to use that term around girls.
But she was.  And she was being so friendly and all,
too, though I knew it was only because our dads worked
together.  Fuck, let's be honest here, OK?  She was
fucking gorgeous and I wanted to nail her ass to the
mosaic tiled deck around the pool.  Subconsciously, of
course.  My experience told me I had a snowball's
chance of actually doing anything with her.  She was
clearly out of my league.

I delayed my exit from the changing room as long as
possible, but I didn't shower.  I had no intention of
going into the pool and getting the trunks wet that
way, either.  That was too dangerous.  Wet cloth
clings, outlines, enlarges.  And if I do say so myself,
I had been doing OK in that department during the last
year or so.  Enlargement, that is.

Since sixth grade, when I was a mere three inches, I
had matured.  I figured I was now about 7 inches long,
maybe longer, depending on if you measure from the top
of the base or the bottom of the base to the tip.
Anyway, I guess I was slightly longer than average.
Where I had excelled, though, was the circumference,
especially around the base.  I was bigger around than I
could reach with one hand by just over an inch, about
the size of a beer bottle, maybe a little bigger.  I'm
not sure if it was the constant pressure that my
permanent erection put on the walls of my prick or
what, but I was a lot thicker than any of the other
guys I had caught a glimpse of.  Not that I
intentionally looked, but, you know, in the locker
room.  Like that.

I knew enough not to get the suit wet, anyway.
Confronted with a monster of the proportions I hid in
my pants, most of the girls I had met would flee
screaming from my presence.  I peeked out the door of
the pool house to see if Lisa was out yet.  She wasn't
by the pool and I made a dash for it, taking advantage
of her absence to get to a deck chair and re-arrange my
shorts to camouflage the throbbing shaft hidden
beneath.  I also planned on using at least one towel,
if not several.

I jumped too soon.  I had just cleared the covered
entryway when a huge cart came trundling around the
corner of the building.  Lisa squealed when she saw me,
but it was too late.  The stainless steel cart clipped
my hip and I was thrown off balance and went backward
into the pool.  Slow motion, arms flapping futilely.
Just like in the movies.  Big splash.

Gasping for air I clawed my way to the side of the
pool.  Lisa was laughing so hard it wasn't difficult to
yank her in with me when she gave me her hand.  She
thought this was also terribly funny and proceeded to
have a water fight.  Which was pretty one sided, as any
splashing I may have done was a direct result of trying
not to drown.  I wasn't a real good swimmer.

Lisa finally pulled away from the fight after an
appropriate amount of time playing and climbed up out
of the pool.

It was a sight I don't think I will ever forget.  I
hope I don't.

Lisa wasn't beautiful like you see in magazines.  If
you looked you could see a flaw or two.  Nothing earth
shattering, mind you.  There were no ugly blemishes or
warts on her nose.  A cute little freckle or two,
maybe.  What made Lisa so striking is that Lisa acted
like she was beautiful.  Like she knew exactly who she
was and what she wanted.

The other thing that struck me as I watched her climb
out of the pool was that she was sleek.  In a good way.
There were no outrageous bumps or curves to distract
from the overall perfection of her figure.  Everything
fit together.  Just right.  Perfectly.  Of course.  Her
breasts were adequate sized, big enough to jiggle,
small enough not to flop or sag and they were high on
her chest without being tucked in clear up under her
chin.  They filled the two tiny swatches of her bikini
top very nicely, thank you.

Her ass was trim, even lean, though there was enough
flesh on it to swallow the string of her thong bottoms
and make it disappear from sight.  Her legs, well, I
decided then and there that I was a leg man for life.
Long.  Just long.  Long, long, long, long, long, legs.
From here to there and back again on the other side.  I
mean, they were long.

She was climbing out of the pool and paused, one foot
on the top rung, the other leg cocked, toes pointed
straight, her knee slightly in front of her.  It was a
picture seared into my mental scrapbook forever.

She giggled that giggle again and I saw she was looking
back at me, back under her arms.  She had seen me
staring at her legs and just stood there, posing for
me.  It seemed like forever before she moved, but it
couldn't have been more than a few seconds.  Definitely
nothing inappropriate.  Lisa would never do anything to
make things awkward.  She knew just the right thing to
do and the right thing to say to put you at your ease.
She was always appropriate.

Lisa arranged two deck chairs, one by the other and
stood there holding out a towel for me.  I really
didn't have a choice but to get out of the pool.

This time she did look me over, up and down, then up
again, stopping at my crotch, much the same as I had
looked at her when she exited the pool.  OK.  Turnabout
was fair play.  I posed for her at the top of the
stairs.  I held my breath.

Having experienced this before, I watched her eyes.
There.  There it was.  That slight dilation of the
pupils, the squinting disbelief at what she had seen
but couldn't have seen.  The puckering of her nipples
behind the thin fabric of her nearly transparent top as
her female mating instincts reacted to the stimulus of
an erect male organ on an acceptable mate.  But what
would be her conscious reaction to it?

Not hearing any screaming, I moved to the deck chair as
quickly as I could and lay down on my stomach.  I
usually had a very tanned back by the end of every
summer as opposed to a virgin white chest and stomach.
I didn't usually get to spend much time on my back as I
tended to attract monkeys looking for coconuts, washer
women looking for a convenient place to tie off their
clotheslines or flag makers looking for an available
location to display their wares.  I had heard all the
jokes people made about me and they were all bad.

Lisa pulled the rolling cart over behind our chairs,
within easy reach of both of us.  Looking up I saw it
was laden with iced cold drinks, sushi, some cold cuts
and sliced vegetables.  She reached in and pulled out a
tube of cream.

"OK, I'll do you, then you can do me," she said,
squirting a gallon of the tanning lotion on my back.
It had been buried in the ice along with the drinks and
I jumped several inches off the chair as the frigid
cream hit my back.  Then she started rubbing it in and
I nearly cried for joy.  Oh God, think of all the
wonderful sensations, oily, slippery, touching,
sliding, back and forth, over and over.  It was like
sex in a bottle and Lisa was touching me.  I couldn't
help but groan in pleasure.

"Feeling better now?  You looked like shit when I
picked you up.  Didn't your Dad tell you I was coming
at 1:00?"

For the life of me, I couldn't remember.  Right then, I
didn't care.  I just groaned again.

"OK.  My turn."  With that she flipped the tube of
tanning lotion next to my face and lay down on her
chair.  Reaching with one hand behind her, she deftly
untied the fragile bow of those two miniscule strings
that held her top together behind her back.  A second
yank undid the knot behind her neck.

I groaned again watching her, but covered it by sitting
upright, facing away from her.  Grabbing my towel and
holding it in front of me I turned to face the most
perfect back I could ever imagine stretched out naked
before me.  And I was going to touch it, going to slide
my hands over that slippery, silky skin, kneading those
strong, sensuous muscles.  Press my hungry fingers
firmly down along her spine, working the lotion into
every square inch of her supple softness.  Moving
slowly down along her curvaceous sides, feeling the
teasingly soft beginning swells of her breasts as they
lay pressed against the deck chair, almost tasting
them, imagining the whole of them with the lightest
touch of my fingertips drawn over their surfaces.  Then
down, slowly, slowly down to those firm round cheeks
where the string was buried, so mysterious, so tight.
Firm and spongy, resilient to the arousing pressure of
my fingers, sliding deeper into the crease between,
deeper, slippery, deeper, hot, moist, just a little
deeper, my questing digits burrowing ....

"John?"

"Huh? What?"

"Uh, I think my ass is done.  Thanks."

As if burned, I yanked my hands away from her perfect
ass.  She giggled that tinkling little laugh again as
she look back over her shoulder, watching me with her
twinkling blue eyes over the top of her sun glasses.
Panicked that I had committed a terrible faux pas, I
scanned her face.  I could see she wasn't mad.  But she
was laughing at me, all the same.  I lay back down on
my chair and tried to relax.  But I couldn't.  Tick-
tock.  Tick-tock.

Twenty minutes later, the inevitable happened.  I knew
it would.  Some girls have this impeccable sense of
timing when laying in the sun, and Lisa was one who had
it.  Never too long on one side, efficiently turning,
changing the angle of the chair slightly to best catch
the sun's rays.  It was another one of their infernal
internal clocks.  I was counting the seconds, too.
Tick-tock.  Hoping.  Tick-tock.   Praying.  Tick-tock.
Begging the Deities to let this be a one-sided roast.
Tick-tock.  Tick-tock.

The Fates didn't hear me.  I saw her hands lazily reach
back and tie the knot at her neck, then tighten and tie
the knot in the middle of her back.  Amazing, the
almost liquid grace with which she accomplished that
contortion.  I almost didn't regret having to roll
over.  Almost.

I was midway through my roll, turning away from her,
when the unthinkable happened.  Never had it happened
to me before.  Never had anyone been so unthinking, so
uncaring, so crass in their behavior towards me.  All
my planning, all my preparations tossed so carelessly
aside.

"Hey!  You want a soda?"

Lisa was handing me a can of coke.  What was so
devastating was that she had grabbed the towels off my
chair and was wiping the condensation off the can for
me.  The towels I had so carefully pulled off the cart,
ready to cover, to protect the innocent blue eyes of
Goddess Lisa.  All I could see were those wonderfully
thick towels falling to the tiled deck on the other
side of her chair.  Out of my reach.

"Thanks," I managed, taking the cold can from her hand.
Numbly, I leaned slowly back in the chair, keeping one
leg bent, the leg nearest her, my knee raised in a coy
fashion in an attempt to mask the mass of swollen flesh
in my shorts.  It was all I could think of.

For a while I thought I had been successful.  I began
to breathe a little easier.  I just might make it
through this.  Then I saw her begin to squirm in her
chair.  Like she was trying for a better angle.  I
caught her looking away more than once, but our eyes
never met.  She wasn't looking at my face.  Finally,
she sat up in her chair and swung her legs over the
side, so she was sitting facing my chair.  I braced
myself for her tirade.

"Did I cause that?" she asked softly, pointing her chin
at my groin.  She was now staring openly at it.

She was direct, I'll say that for her.  And calm, too.
Fuck!  In fact, if I wasn't mistaken, she had an almost
hungry look on her face as she stared at my bulging
crotch.  I decided to be honest with her, which I had
learned in high school wasn't always the best course.
"No, not really."

She started to smile, already making her next move in
the game she seemed to be playing single-handedly.  I
obviously didn't know the rules of her game or I would
have answered differently.  I was a fast learner, but
this was a completely new situation and I didn't have a
fucking clue where she was going.  At least she wasn't
screaming or pointing a gun or knife at me.

When she finally comprehended what I had said, she made
a small jerk, like a finely tuned machine that suddenly
skipped a gear when stopped too soon.  Confused, she
looked at my face, for the first time in about twenty
minutes.

"Huh?"

"It's not because of you..."

I paused, wondering how bold I could be with her.
Something about her hungry look encouraged me to do
something I had never done before, not that I'd ever
had the chance, but let's not quibble.  I went for
broke.

"...but if it wasn't, I'm sure it would be."

"Be what?"  She was confused.

"Because of you."

She blushed, pleased at my lame attempt to compliment
her.  She was staring at my crotch again.

"I have a boyfriend," she said quietly after several
moments of reverent silence.

I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or reminding
herself.

"That figures."

"What?"

"The best girls all have boyfriends," I said, still
trying to figure out what was going on.

"He's been gone all summer.  Football training camps
and stuff."

"I'm sorry."  I had no idea where this was going.  Nor
did I really care that her boyfriend played football.

"I just want you to know I have a boyfriend."

"So you mentioned," I said as I watched her slide her
butt over to sit on the edge of my chair.

Closer now, she stared at my crotch again.  She licked
her lips and they remained slightly parted.

"I love him."  It was quieter than before, almost a
prayer.

"Uh-huh."  My response was a whisper.  Her fingertips
were so soft they burned my flesh, even through the
swimming trunks.

"He hasn't been here all summer."

"Ummmm."  Lisa was very good with her hands.  My prick
was now exposed to the direct sunlight.  It was a move
so deft, she had obviously had a lot of practice, to be
so good.  I heard a small gasp when she saw it out in
the open.  A typical response.  But still no hysterical
screaming.  I took that for a good sign.

"It must hurt, all swollen like that."

She tore her eyes from my throbbing shaft and looked at
my face.  She was now straddling my hips, kneeling, one
of her legs on either side of my hips, poised, primed.

"J-John, I have a boyfriend.  I-I'm doing this for
you."  It sounded like she was begging, but there was
no way in Hell I was trying to stop her.

Two delicate fingers relocated her bottom swatch to one
side, and I gradually didn't have to worry about
getting a sunburn on my pecker.  Well the top half,
anyway.

"Ohhhhh."  That was both of us.

Lisa began grunting and groaning, my size beginning to
stretch her wider than she was used to.  Breathing
heavily through her nose, I saw the determination flare
in her eyes.  There was something else there, too.
Pride, I think.  I knew then and there that this was
going to be a great fuck, not that I had any points for
reference.  Instinctively I knew she was going to try
to subdue the beast rising up inside of her, but she
had no way of knowing she couldn't win this contest.  I
may have forgotten to mention a few details about
myself to her.

It took her a long while and great effort, but Lisa
finally managed to bring the fabric of our bathers
together.  It wasn't a painless process for her, but in
a way that seemed to drive her on.  Not that she was
into it, but the pain was never quite enough to make
her stop.  I would see the tensing of her mouth as she
would swallow another millimeter or so.  I could tell
that her cunt must be stretching to the limits of its
elasticity.  Then, holding still, I would see the
triumph in her eyes as the pain eased.  Another push
down, and the cycle would start over until she had it
all inside her.

Then the fun started.  Her vaginal opening was so taut
that every move up and down dragged her exposed clit
over the hard shaft she had impaled herself on.  It was
probably more stimulation than she was used to and the
strength and suddenness of her first orgasm took her by
surprise.

She was just getting into her rhythm when she got this
queer look on her face in the middle of a long down
stroke, like she was surprised or something.  Then she
shook, kind of like when I stuck my finger in the
electrical socket that one time.  She must have shaken
for several seconds, then she sort of collapsed, like
she was wilting, but on the inside.  Happily wilting.

Breathing heavily, she put her hands flat on my chest
with her elbows locked and sat staring at me.  Waiting.

"What?" I asked finally.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Come on!  I'm doing this for you.  Didn't you come
yet?"

"Uh, oh yeah.  It was great."  I had cum, but not right
then.  I didn't think it would be the best time to tell
her it had happened in the pool watching her get out.
She really was a sight to behold, and those legs...

"But, but you're still hard.  Why aren't you getting
soft?"

"Oh, that."  I didn't elaborate.  I improvised.  "Maybe
it's just you."  OK.  I lied.

She looked at me like she didn't want to believe me,
but like she wasn't completely sure, either.  Girls
have egos, too, and I think she kind of wanted to
believe me but this was hard to swallow.  In more ways
than one.  She knew the effect she had on most guys.
Of course, she had never seen this strong of a reaction
before, but still, was it possible?

She didn't say anything more for a while.  When she did
start moving again, this time it was with a deliberate
sensuality that would have told any sane man he was in
big trouble.  It was perform or die time, and something
in the way she moved told me she had seen more than a
few strong men fall under her.

But I wasn't sane.  I was delirious.  My first fuck and
it was with a goddess.  An honest to goodness fucking
goddess.  Of late, in my dorm room on an endless string
of lonely Friday nights, I had begun imagining I would
either have to pay a professional to lose my virginity
or get some fat chick really drunk.  Neither appealed
to me, for different reasons, but I felt myself running
out of options.

Until today.  With Lisa.  I couldn't imagine it could
get any better.

I tried to reach up and touch her breasts while she was
fucking herself on me the second time.  Still somewhat
coherent, she took one hand off my chest and stopped
me.

"P-please don't.  I have a boyfriend, John."

Yeah, sure.  Like that explained what she was doing
with my cock stuck up inside her while she was getting
her rocks off.  Again.  It struck me as funny, and I
started to laugh.  Not out loud, but I began to shake,
holding it in.  That must have rubbed her the right
way, as she gave a tiny little squeak, dug her
fingernails into my pectoral muscles and then
surrendered her breasts into my waiting hands.

They were wonderful.  Soft, firm and wonderfully
rounded.  Just the right size.  They were capped with
nipples that almost squealed when you rolled them the
right way.

Her golden hair tickled my face as she hung her head
down, sated for the time being, breathing heavily.

"OK, but no kissing.  I have a boyfriend."

"So you mentioned.  Several times."

"I just wanted to help you out.  Really.  It-It looked
painful."

"Uh-huh.  So this was all for my benefit?"

"Yes.  Honest.  Well, sort of.  Greg's been gone all
summer and...  Damn, you're still hard."

She said that last with a touch of awe, as if
reconsidering her opinion of me.  Somehow I think I
just got moved up a couple of notches, and there were
probably quite a few of those on her bedpost.
Something told me Lisa enjoyed an active sex life.

I nodded, focusing on easing the fabric hiding those
perfect nipples to the side.

"Can you go again?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean, you don't know."

"Well....  I've never done this before."

Her mouth dropped open in stunned surprise, and while
she was distracted I succeeded in freeing the second
nipple.  It was mouth watering and my next goal was to
do just that.

"You mean....  You've never....  This...  Your
first...."

I think she found that hard to believe.

"I find that hard to believe."

See?

I leaned up with my head, stretching my neck as far as
I could.  When she inhaled, and if I timed it just
right, I could barely flick the tip of my tongue over
her nipple.  I was really straining and must have been
grunting, not paying her the attention she thought she
deserved.  Given her current position sitting on my
cock and all, she may have had a point.

Suddenly she sat back.  If she hadn't completely
impaled herself on my shaft again when she did so, I
would have thought she was getting ready to get up.
Reaching up behind her, she yanked on the knot behind
her neck and then the one behind her back.  With a soft
flutter, the delicate fabric fell to the pool deck.

"Satisfied?"

The grin on my face said it all.  They were glorious,
perfection, exquisite, and I told her so.  I said more
about her breasts than I had said all that day.  More
words than I had spoken in a week, maybe more.  They
captivated me.  She let me touch them as I talked, so I
kept on talking.  She pretended she didn't like to hear
me extol the beauty of her charms.  She had a
boyfriend, remember?  But she didn't interrupt, either.

It was getting dark when she finally climbed off my
shaft.  I had to help her into the house, she was so
sore.  I drew a hot bath in the huge bathtub/Jacuzzi
and settled her down into the soothing waters.  I went
back out to the pool house and got my clothes.

I slept on the couch in the family room that night.

Lisa woke me the next morning, dressed for work.  She
was walking a little gingerly, but seemed OK.

"I'll be done by noon," she told me.  "Do you want to
stay here, or do you want me to drop you off at your
place and pick you up later?"

We were apparently going to spend more time together
today.  I didn't mind at all but I needed some clean
clothes.  I told her.  She dropped me off and sped to
the office in her Daddy's BMW.

I quickly did about six loads of laundry, as I had to
get them all done before noon.  I managed it, pulling
out the last load from the drier about five minutes
before she was supposed to be there.  Carting the heavy
baskets up the five flights from the laundry room in
the basement was a chore, and I saw her standing in the
hallway waiting for me.  I was glad I had left a note
on the door.

She came into the apartment without a word and reached
for the top wad of clothing.  Using the seat of the
couch we proceeded to fold all the clothes in the
baskets, a feat I had heretofore left untried.  Neatly
folded and stacked articles of clothing, in separate
piles.  What a novel concept....

When all the clothes were folded and I had put them
away, Lisa shucked off her business jacket without
standing up.  She somehow maneuvered me to sit on the
couch while she moved to her knees, positioning herself
between my legs.

"Were you really a virgin until yesterday?"

I nodded, afraid to speak.  All I could do was watch
her hands as they moved down the row of buttons on her
blouse, undoing them as they descended.  When the last
one came undone and she pulled off her blouse, I gasped
for air.  I hadn't realized I was holding my breath.

"Have you ever done anything?"

I shook my head 'no' as her fingers deftly popped open
the front clasp of her bra.

"Didn't you ever date?"

Another shake, and the zipper of her skirt slithered
down.

"Kiss?"

Again, a negative.  Her panties joined the pile of her
clothes on the couch.

"Does it ever go down?"

Another shake, followed by a gasp as my gym shorts were
pulled down to my knees, then down to my ankles.

"Never?"

Groaning, I think I managed a 'ga-ga' sound as her
mouth slipped over the head of my cock.  Even though
this was my first blow job, I could tell she was good.
Masterful.  Experienced.  But then, I reminded myself,
Lisa had a boyfriend.

Lucky bastard.

I stopped her before she hurt herself.  I think she was
trying to get me to ejaculate into her mouth, but that
wasn't going to happen.  Not that it couldn't, but one
of the side effects of being hard all the time is that
I had a hair trigger.  I had already shot my load
earlier while we were folding laundry.

Hey, give me a break!  It was her fault!  She had
smiled at one of my stupid jokes and then tickled me in
the ribs.  So I came in my shorts.  So what?

As a result of her attempts to taste my cum, she was
forcing more and more of me into her mouth.  The only
trouble was that her teeth were very white and very
sharp and her mouth had an opening smaller than I was
around.  It was getting painful and I didn't want her
to go too far and get stuck.  I was already imagining
the paramedics report.  Using the Jaws of Life suddenly
had a whole new meaning...

She looked crestfallen that she hadn't been able to get
me to cum.  It was obvious that had never happened to
her before.  Trying to make her feel better, I told her
it had been the most magnificent feeling I had had.
Since yesterday.  Indescribable.  But that I couldn't
get off that way.  Usually.  Right, as if I had ever
had a chance to find out before twenty minutes ago.

Lisa was a determined girl and she bounced right back
from this major setback in her young life.  For the
rest of that day, Hell, for the summer, she tried to
determine just how long I could keep it hard.  Then she
tried to determine how many times she could come in one
day.  How many times in single session.  How many times
when she was on top.  Then on the bottom.  Doggy-style.
And so on.  And so on.  And so on.  Yes, she was very
determined.

With all of that, there were three things we never did
that summer.  We never kissed.  We never did anal.  We
never talked.  OK, a little talk about weird shit, like
drugs.  But nothing personal.

Still, I learned a lot.  I learned how to fuck, of
course, and how to do it so the girl would like it.  I
learned to be gentle with my size.  I learned about G-
spots and clits, nipples and navels.  Best of all, I
learned to lick cunt.

Lisa particularly liked that, too, and I got good,
fast.  In fact, she acted almost as if Greg never did
that for her.  And me?  It was like a revelation.  I
discovered I could please a woman without fear of
harming her.

It was a glorious summer.  I slipped it into Lisa as
July slipped into August and August into September.
Labor Day weekend was coming up and Lisa told me she
was going up to State to take care of some sorority
stuff.  She had been elected President of the Gamma Phi
sorority for this year and needed to get some of the
social calendar ready for rush.  Would I like to go
with her?

Of course I accepted.  She checked me into a local
motel and I lounged around the pool while she was
getting her stuff done.  It was quite a change for me,
to have the courage to lie around in the open like
that.  Oh, sure, there was the occasional 'Harumph' or
titter.  Several gasps, too, when I would roll over on
my back, but I minded my own business and those old
ladies minded theirs.  I noticed none of them got up
and left the pool while I was there.  I swore the next
time I would wear the Speedo trunks.

When Lisa came back the following evening, she seemed
nervous.  No, not really nervous, but kind of unsure,
somehow.  It was odd for her to be that way.  I soon
found out why.

"Uh, John, uh, I had a talk with a doctor..."

Oh, shit.  She was pregnant.  And she had a boyfriend.
And he had 35 big fucking team mates.  I was as dead as
a fly on the windshield.

"...about you.  She wants to examine you.  Your
condition.  You know."

I nearly wet myself in relief.  She wasn't pregnant!

"Is that OK?"

OK?  That I was going to be allowed to live?  Of course
it was OK!  I nodded 'Yes.'

"Let's go, then."  As was her habit, she simply turned
and walked out of the motel room.  By now, I was used
to this and actually was able to get to the door first
and open it for her.  She smiled at my attempt at
gallantry and laid her hand gently on mine.

"I know.  You have a boyfriend."  It was getting old.

She hadn't laughed at my weak attempt at humor, which
meant she was still nervous about something else.  I
found out soon enough what the next mystery was when we
got to the door of her sorority house.

"You'll have to wear this tonight."  She handed me a
blindfold.

I looked at her with a puzzled look.

"The doctor.  She doesn't want you to know who she is.
It might be embarrassing to you later.  Both of you."

It was a lame excuse and I didn't think it felt quite
right.  But Lisa had never done anything cruel or mean
to me.  I decided to trust her.

"Promise me you won't try to take it off.  No matter
what?"

Now, for sure, I didn't like that last bit.  If I
wasn't uneasy before I sure as fuck was now.  'No
matter what?'  What the Hell was that supposed to mean?

"OK.  I promise."  Sorry, guys.  She had that effect on
me.

Lisa pulled the blindfold over my eyes and fastened it
behind my head.  I felt her face next to mine and her
lips softly brushed my cheek.

"Thank you, John," she whispered tenderly in my ear.

I groaned.  Oh shit!  The doctor was going to find more
than one surprise in my shorts....

Lisa took me by the hand and led me into the sorority
house.  We descended a narrow staircase slowly, one
step at a time.  She was being very careful.

I heard voices that stopped suddenly as we approached.
It sounded like three or four females.  Two of them, at
least, were young.  One sounded more mature.  I liked
her voice.  She had a nice laugh, too.

"Uh, Dr. uh, um... Rita, this is the guy I was telling
you about.  John, this is Dr. Rita."

Smiling like a stupid idiot, I stuck out my hand
blindly in front of me.  A cool strong hand grasped
mine and turned me 90 degrees so I was facing her.

"Sorry," I shrugged.  "Pleased to meet you, sort of."

She laughed.  An honest laugh that started deep in her
soul.

"Me, too, John."  She released my hand.  "Well, then,
let's get started, shall we?"

Her firm grasp on my elbow led me over to a low
obstacle.  I hit it first with my shin, then felt for
it with my free hand.  It was flat and soft, like a
cloth-covered firm mattress on a raised platform.

Dr. Rita's hand urged me to turn around with my back to
the platform.  Her efficient hands undid my shirt and
pulled it off my shoulders.

"I can do that."

"That's OK.  It's no bother.  Really," she answered.
Her voice sounded like she was smiling.  Broadly.

I felt deft hands at my belt and my pants and shorts
hit the floor.  I'll say this for Dr. Rita - she was
very good at getting men's clothing off.

I had heard more than one gasp as my glory was
revealed.  I cocked my head in curiosity.

"We're not alone?"

There was a pause.  "No."

"How many others are here?"

Another pause, as if there was a silent conference
going on to see how much information could be divulged.
"Three."

"Including Lisa?" I asked.

"Yes."  So.  Four women and me.  I could get used to
those odds.

Cool hands eased me down onto the mattress.  I
discovered a pillow was conveniently positioned under
my head and another under my hips.  Interesting.

"Dr. Rita, if I might ask, what kind of doctor are
you?"

"Does it make a difference?"

"No, I was just curious."

Another silent conference.  "OB-GYN."

"Oh."  I thought a minute.  "So, this isn't your normal
exam."

She laughed again.  God, I loved that laugh.  "No.
This is more like looking at the 'Tab A' that goes into
'Slot B'."

"Are the others here doctors, too?"

"I'm pre-Med," squeaked one voice before she was
'shushed' by the others.

"John?"  Lisa's voice was next to my ear.  She must be
kneeling behind my head.  I felt her hands on my chest,
teasing the hairs in little circles.  She knew that
drove me crazy.

"Yes?"  It was my turn to have a squeaky voice.  Not
only were Lisa's hands twirling around my chest, but
Dr. Rita's hands, cool and clinical, were beginning
their examination.

"Trust me?  Please?"

I nodded.

"Thanks."  Another brush against my cheek.  Damn that
Greg!

I felt the familiar rubber tube being wrapped around my
upper arm and then tightened.  A couple of thumps on
the inside of my elbow later and I heard Dr. Rita say,
"This may sting a little.  Try not to move."

I'll say this for her.  She was damn good at drawing
blood.

Dr. Rita, if unfamiliar with the bulk of the territory,
was extremely thorough with the physical exam.  Her
knowing fingers prodded and probed into every crease
and crevasse in my groin, from my navel to my knees.
She even did a rectal palpation, spending a long time
feeling in the area of my prostate.  Her manipulation
wasn't painful, but it did make me spend involuntarily,
which was painful, like I was forcing a chunk of
strawberry pulp through a paper straw.

Apparently she was finally satisfied.  The first
indication I had that the exam was over was the
alarming sensation of a pair of warm moist lips
settling over the swollen tip of my cock, cleaning the
remains of my recent emissions.

"Oh, God!  Lisa?" I called out.

"Hush.  Trust me, OK?"  She was still by my head, her
reassuring hands pressing down on my chest.  It wasn't
her mouth on my cock!

I was shaking.  I'm not sure why.  I wasn't frightened.
It was just, well, if there ever was a fantasy every
guy alive or dead has had, this had to be it.  Trapped
in a sorority house with several horny women.

Only this was no fantasy.  And better, I had the
equipment to handle the job!  No, I wasn't scared.  I
was fucking shaking from excitement.

The mouth was replaced by a cunt and I heard the gasps
as it slid down three-quarters of the shaft.  Then the
downward progress stopped.

"Damn!"

That was Dr. Rita.  I reached up to touch her.

"Lisa!?"  Her voice shook in terror, pleading.

Lisa must have seen the look on my face, even with the
blindfold covering my eyes.  I had been pushed far
enough.  No more limits.

"Sorry, Rita.  He likes tits."

"But..."  It was a strangled protest.  Futile, too.

I reached up and felt an expensive silk blouse.  I
started unbuttoning the buttons from the top.  When the
bottom one was undone, I gently pulled the tails up out
of the waist of her skirt.  Dr. Rita had mounted me
fully clothed.

I reached up for her bra.  Dr. Rita's hands caught
mine, pleading silently for a reprieve.  She didn't get
it.

Her bra was sturdier than I would have guessed, given
the quality and expense of the blouse.  It was also
heavily fastened in the back.  I had to pull her
forward by the shoulders to get at the heavy-duty
clasp.  She didn't help, but she had quit resisting.

The straps of the supportive garment slid down her arms
and it hit the mattress heavily.  Slowly, as I couldn't
see, I slid my fingertips up her bare torso, beginning
at her navel.  I had no idea how massive a pair the
good doctor was sporting, to require such a sturdy
support system.  But I was imagining basketballs.
Volleyballs, at the very least.

Higher and higher I moved.  I was much higher on her
chest than I had expected.  The doctor was really well
preserved for having melons this big.  Then I felt it.
It was glorious, that soft silky skin just under the
breasts.  I touched the swell on the bottom of her tits
and curled my fingers to cup them.

And stopped.

There was nothing in my right hand.  Nothing that even
came close to the wonderfully soft and normal tit in my
left hand.

I froze.  I had heard about this.  Breast cancer.  She
had had to have one removed.  Oh, Fuck!  Oh, Shit!  Oh,
fucking shit!  Was this the biggest screw up ever, or
what?

"Does it hurt?"

"No."  She was crying, silently.  I felt the warm salty
drops falling on my hands.  I was afraid I had hurt
her.  She never had stopped her slow rhythmic rocking
on my prick.

"Can you still feel when I touch it?"

"Yes.  But why would you want to?"

I ignored the question.  It was bitter.

"May I?"

Dr. Rita was quiet for a long minute.

"Yesss," came her whispered consent.

In the hushed silence of the room, I proceeded to
'examine' Dr. Rita's chest.  Her whole chest, both
sides.  One with and one without.

I discovered she had been able to retain a part of her
nipple and that it was still sensitive.  More so than
the other, if that was possible.  I must have touched
her for several minutes when I felt Dr. Rita gasp, then
begin to shudder.  Several sharp fingernails dug into
the skin on my stomach and I felt her force herself
completely down on my shaft.

She screamed.

Suddenly she started fucking me wildly, as if a switch
had been thrown, like caution to the wind.  Her groans
and obscene utterances masked the sounds of footsteps
coming closer to us.  Dr. Rita had quite a surprisingly
extensive vocabulary, and not all of it strictly
medical.

The first I knew of the others being close was the
scent of a dripping cunt hovering over my mouth and
nose.  It wasn't Lisa's, because we had shaved hers
bare last week.  This one had quite a bit of hair that
tickled, but it still smelled delicious.

"Uh, Lisa?"

"Yes, John?"  She was still kneeling by my head.

"You have a boyfriend, right?"

"Yes.  We've been over that."

"So you don't mind if I, uh, well...?"  I pointed up
with my chin.  My meaning was obvious.

God, I loved her laugh.  "Why do you think they're
here?"

"Oh.  OK.  Just checking."

I dove in.

Over the next four hours I tired all three of the new
girls out.  Besides Dr. Rita there was Carole, a short
stocky girl with a hairy twat and boobs that were
already beginning to sag.  Not that she was fat, but
with her bone structure, she was able to accommodate my
girth with ease.  She was still tight and it was a
struggle for her but she did it.  She whimpered when
she climaxed.  She whimpered a lot that night.

Barbara was my first Oriental female.  I think.  She
was pretty quiet, but what she did say made me think of
Lotus blossoms, for some reason.  Her hair, when it
brushed my knees or stomach as she leaned over me was
straight and long.  She was slight and had trouble
taking in even half of me.  It took a lot of convincing
by the other three women that she hadn't failed just
because she was built small, on top and on the bottom.
It took a lot of effort for Barbara to reach her peak,
and when she did, you could hardly tell outwardly,
though I couldn't see her face.  But not a sound.  The
only way I could tell she was cumming was by the way
she clenched her cunt.  It felt like she was going to
squeeze off my cock.  And she loved to be eaten, like
it was something she hadn't experienced before.

Lisa only observed that night, like a designated
driver, as near as I can tell.

Finally sated, the four women left the room, leaving me
lying on the mattress.  Lisa pulled a soft blanket over
me and I guess I fell asleep.  Fucking was hard work.

I felt soft lips against mine.  Softly kissing me.  I
knew I was dreaming.  I never got kissed.  An
inquisitive tongue traced the line made by my lips,
looking for a breech in the defenses.  It darted in to
explore my mouth before pulling away.

"I don't have a boyfriend."

It was Dr. Rita, and she was lying with me, both of us
naked.  It wasn't a dream.  Her hands softly touched my
face, tracing imaginary love notes on my cheeks and
forehead.

I reciprocated, but blindly.  I tried to imagine her
face as a blind person would, but I was too unskilled.
I settled for simply caressing her.

I didn't flinch when I reached her scarred breast.  To
her credit, neither did she.  I traced tender designs
around the scars, feeling the soft skin that remained.
I continued down her chest, across her stomach that had
developed just a slight mature pooch and then on down
between her thighs.  I touched her like Lisa liked to
be touched, like she had taught me.  Dr. Rita groaned
and rolled over on her back, pulling me on top of her.

I measured her against my body and found she was tall
for a woman, and extremely fit.

"Do it to me hard, John.  Please."  I heard a need in
her voice that hadn't been there earlier.  Before, when
there were others, she was confident and sure of
herself, the experienced older woman of the world, a
strong role model for young women.  Now, alone with me,
she was letting her needy side show, a woman made
unsure of her femininity by a disfiguring disease,
longing for reassurance that she could still be a woman
to a man, could satisfy him.

I interrupted my further digital investigations of this
mysterious woman for more pressing matters.  I eased
myself into her moist tunnel, entering her slowly.
Lisa had cautioned me about my size, telling me of the
challenges I was going to face, but that I also had
several advantages going for me.  I wondered at the
time if she was referring to Greg, or just most other
guys in general.

I built up to pounding into Rita with any substantial
force gradually, giving her body a chance to
accommodate me and adjust.  It wasn't what she wanted,
but she accepted it gratefully, wrapping her arms and
legs tightly around me.  The pounding of her heels in
the small of my back and on my ass set the tempo for my
thrusts and we soared into the heights together.  At
least, she soared and I supported her emotionally.  I
liked this older woman a lot.

As we were cooling down, panting in each other's
embrace like two members of a relay team I felt a sharp
pang in my chest.  Her left hand had gotten caught
between us.  I pondered what that meant and if I should
mention it.

"I thought you said you didn't have a boyfriend."

"I don't."

"But you have a husband?"  It was a question, but we
both knew the answer.

"I didn't lie to you."

"He hasn't touched you since the... the..."

"Mastectomy?  No."  She didn't elaborate.

"I'm sorry.  You're a good lady.  You deserve better."

She was quiet for while.  There wasn't much more to say
about that.

"Do you love her?"

"Who?"

"Lisa."

"She has a boyfriend."

"That's not what I asked you."

"Well, I didn't lie," I teased her, feeding her own
logic back to her.

"I'm serious."

I thought for while.  "No.  I don't.  I think sometimes
that I would like to.  I care for her a great deal, but
I don't think I love her.  You know, like marriage and
all that.  I respect her, and she is a wonderful person
and she is great in bed, but I get the feeling I don't
fit.  Not with her, but with her life.  I'm not in her
league.  Not her type.  I don't know really.  It's not
the age difference, either.  She's, well, I just don't
think it would work in the long run."

I felt Dr. Rita relax, almost as if she was relieved at
my answer.  "She feels the same about you.  You're a
good friend, and you've kept her out of a lot of
trouble this summer, from what I understand, whether
you know it or not or whether you believe it or not.
But, well, when she's here at State, she's a different
person.  A different kind of person."

We fell silent for a while.

"John, can I ask you a personal question?  I'll
understand if you say 'No'."

Say 'No' to this lady?  I don't think so.  "Go ahead.
Shoot."

She chuckled.  "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to
you about."

"Huh?"

"I would guess you tend to 'shoot' pretty quickly.
Yes?"

Damn, she had seen the mess in my shorts.

Really?  You think so?  What gave it away?  "Well, I-
Uh, well...."

"John," she started out, using her professional voice,
"Premature ejaculation is not uncommon in young men.
And in someone with your, uh, potential, and well...
Oh Hell, John, I saw your shorts."

I knew it.  "I can't help it.  It's always gone off
like that."

"I might be able to give you something that would help
you control it.  Would you like that?"

I nodded.  "Yeah.  It gets embarrassing sometimes."

"Good.  I'll get the pills to you through Lisa."

There was another comfortable silence for a while.  We
weren't just lying there, however.

"Am I going to see, well, you know, am I going to get
to be with you again, Dr. Rita?"  I would even go
blindfolded again, and we both knew it.

"Rita.  Call me Rita."

"Sure, OK.  And...?"

"I don't know.  One of the reasons I was asking you
about your feelings for Lisa is that I think she has
some very special plans for you.  I was worried you
were going to be a problem, that perhaps you were in
love with her.  But now I think that there may be
another problem."

"Oh?  What?"

"I may be in love with you.  At least, one particular
part of you."  She laughed her low sexy laugh and I
gave her that part of me again, only this time slow and
easy.  I eased off when I felt her climax.

"God, you are addicting, John ..."

We heard Lisa coming down the hall.  "John, let's get
you dressed..."  She halted in mid sentence.

"Oh.  Uh, Rita.  We thought you'd gone.  Have you- Have
you been in here the *whole* time?"  There was more
than a little amazement in her voice.

"Well, I stopped in to say 'good nite' to this
gentleman and he invited me in for a nightcap and well,
one thing led to another, and another, and then
another..."  She kind of dwindled off, preoccupied as
she was by the suckling monster at her breast.

"God.  You two are making me sick.  Come on, John.
Stop distracting her.  Rita, leave that alone.  No,
don't stick it in there again.  Come on, stop that.
Stop.  No, don't tickle me, John.  Stop.  Let me go,
John.  Ouch!  Rita, get off me.  Don't do that.
Ooohhh, stop.  Please.  God, not that, not the tongue,
oh God, don't stop..."

Rita pinned Lisa down while I ate her, then I fucked
her, then Rita again, then I fucked Lisa and ate Rita.
Then they switched.  I think.

It was daylight when Lisa dropped me back at the motel.
It had been a most interesting night.

For the next two weeks, before we had to go back for
classes, Lisa was insatiable.  I mean, she was wild
before.  Now she was maniacal about sex, like she
couldn't get enough.  Like she knew it was going to end
soon.  Like, when Greg got back.

As much as I pestered her, she wouldn't tell me about
the special plans Rita had alluded to that night.
Every time I asked her, she would start another fuck
session.  One night she even tried to take me anally.
I think it was a mistake.  I liked it, but she couldn't
take me all the way in, she was just too small.  She
walked funny for two days.  I felt really bad, that I
had hurt her.  But she brushed it off.

The night before Greg came back, she kissed me.  Tongue
and all.  There were tears and tenderness and we did it
all, in her bed in the museum.  Another first.  She
held me tight all night and every time she thought she
could go again, she would wake me up and we would go
again.  A couple of times I don't think I woke up, but
I can't be sure.

Greg's return signaled the start of the long trek back
to State.  There were several of us from here going.  I
had actually been able to meet a few of my fellow
students on our occasional jaunts into town as my Dad
had suggested might happen.  I caught a ride back to
school with one of them.  Lisa and Greg drove up in her
Dad's BMW 750i.  I don't think she was planning on
returning the car to him.  Ever.  She kind of liked
that car.

My first surprise came when I went to the housing
office to get my dorm room assignment.  I had been
assigned to a different dorm clear across campus.  It
was in a prime location, as it was way closer to the
library, the computer science labs, everything.  It was
the only dorm on that side of campus, though, and was
populated mostly by women.  It was hard to get assigned
there.

More surprising was my roommate and suitemates.  There
weren't any.  It was a single room, on the end, with
its own bathroom.  There weren't many of these single
rooms in the building, only on the one end.  The story
around school was that the student architect that had
designed the building had miscounted the number of
rooms or something and when he divided by two, there
was one left over.  So they made the leftover room a
little smaller, tacked on a bathroom and called them
singles.  They were the most popular dorm rooms at
State.  I got assigned one on the second floor without
even requesting it.

I smelled a rat.  A rat named Lisa Nagi.

I was sitting in my new room, staring at the mottled
concrete walls and the bare linoleum tile on the floor.
My few belongings were tucked away already, not even
filling two of the five drawers.  My three shirts
hanging in the closet looked lonely, so I shut the door
on them.  One of the advantages of the single rooms was
the space normally used by the second bed.  Mine had a
work bench there, and I already had spread out my
soldering iron, oscilloscope and electronic testing
meters I used for my computer science labs and
projects.  But other than that the room was pretty
desolate.  I didn't even own a broom.

I jumped up off the bed when I heard a knock on the
door.  Opening it, I looked in confusion at the mass of
humanity milling outside my doorway.  I thought maybe
someone had bumped against my door by mistake and I
started to close it.

"Hey!  Wait!  Lisa sent us.  We're the welcome wagon."

I thought I recognized Carole's voice.  I looked at her
and gave her a questioning glance, raising my eyebrows.
Her bright blush was all the confirmation I needed.

"Sure.  Come on in."  I had no idea what they wanted,
but by the time thirty or forty girls had filed in,
left whatever it was they were carrying, and then,
after a curiously intense and reverent inspection of
me, departed, I had a completely furnished room.
Complete with a wool Oriental rug (a slight stain on
one corner), a pair of lamps (elegant, but not
matching), two easy chairs (comfortable, and that's all
that counts), and enough linens and towels to fill the
second closet.  The single bed had been replaced with a
queen-sized bed that barely fit through the door.
There was even a living plant in the corner, next to
the window.  New curtains went up and three tasteful
paintings graced the wall, covering most of the
blemishes.

Carole supervised the unloading, placement and assembly
of each item as it was brought in, apparently according
to a pre-arranged plan.  The flawless precision of the
operation would have done the planners of Desert Storm
proud.  Carole obviously had a future in logistics.

As the work progressed, I had a chance to study Carole.
Either she had lost a lot of weight in the last two
weeks, or my assessment of her as stocky was a little
severe.  Let's just say she was solidly built and her
sports bra kept her healthy chest well under control.
There wasn't an ounce of fat, though, that I could see.
She saw me looking at her and quickly looked away.  She
wrote furiously on a piece of paper and handed it to
me.

I knew what it would say before I opened it.  "I have a
boyfriend," it read.

I grabbed a pencil from my backpack and scribbled a one
word answer.

When she read my response, I thought she was going to
cry.  Then she realized I was making a joke and she
gathered herself with what seemed a bit more self-
assurance than she had had before and the re-
habilitation of my room proceeded.  She even kissed me
on the cheek when she left.

What had I written?  "DAMN!!!!"

I meant it, too.

Lisa showed up with two girls, one of them Carole, the
next morning after breakfast.  I got the distinct
impression that General Lisa was doing an inspection of
the troops.  I almost felt like saluting her but I was
distracted by the second girl.

She wasn't quite Oriental, but the hair matched.  Long
and straight and jet black.  Her eyes, when I could see
them, were ice blue and very striking against her cocoa-
colored skin.  She wouldn't look at me, however, at
least not in the eye.  The level of her gaze never got
much above my belt buckle.  Or much below it, either.
As Carole and I stood by the door out of the way, Lisa
toured the room, followed by the girl I had now
identified as Barbara.

I leaned over to Carole and whispered, "Let me guess.
She has a boyfriend, too.  Right?"

Carole snorted trying to stifle her guffaw, but
eventually was able to nod that she did.  We looked at
one another, co-conspirators in a private joke.
Together we said aloud, "DAMN!", and started laughing.

Lisa and Barbara looked at us in puzzlement.  Lisa got
a look in her eye I hadn't seen before.  Carole, seeing
her expression, stopped laughing abruptly, nearly
hurting herself in the process.  It's a hard thing to
do, to stop laughing just like that.

I considered intervening for Carole, but thought better
of it.  I wasn't exactly sure how sororities worked
with their hierarchies and all, but I figured if I
tried to protect Carole it might be perceived as a
weakness on her part and hurt her in the long run.  So
I kept quiet and kept any further comments to myself.

Barbara left with Carole not long after that, still
without having said a word to me.  I got the feeling
she didn't trust herself to look me in the eye.

Once they were gone, Lisa sat on the edge of the bed
and leaned back, resting on her elbows.  She knew the
position did wonders for her tits, and she had teased
me by leaning back like that all summer long,
especially when we were in public and I couldn't do
anything about it.

I took a chair as far away from her as I could.  She
wanted something.  That much was clear.

"Thanks for the room.  What's the catch?"

I don't think she was used to the straight forward, cut
to the chase approach.  I know she wasn't used to it
from me.  She had been leading me around like a puppy
for two months now.  Strange thing about puppies.  They
grow up into big dogs.  She wasn't used to me thinking
either, but I could.

"Oh.  You figured that out?"  No giggle.

"It wasn't hard.  Especially when the re-decorators
showed up, lead by Carole."

"You weren't supposed to know who she was."

"Give me a break, Lisa.  She and Barbara just left."  I
was fishing, but her surprised look confirmed it.  I
continued, "The only one I haven't seen so far is Rita,
but I'm sure we'll run in to each other one of these
days, don't you think?"

Lisa looked like she had seen a ghost.  Her reaction
confirmed what I already suspected.  Rita was someone
special to the sorority.  Or to Lisa.  I wasn't sure
which.  Having made my point, I let it drop.

"How's Greg?" I asked softly.

"Tired..."  She stopped herself.  "No!  I mean, not
like that."

"Why, Miss Nagi, I do believe you're blushing!"

"John, I *love* him.  Leave him out of this."

I raised my hands in a gesture of conciliation.  I
didn't want to fight with her.

"OK.  Sorry.  So, what's going on?  Or can you tell
me?"  OK, just a little sarcasm, but can you blame me?

Relieved to be on familiar ground, she pulled herself
together.

"Rita told you I was making some special plans for you.
This room is part of it.  It's paid for by the
sorority, whether you participate or not."

"Participate?  Participate in what, exactly?"

Lisa was actually squirming.  Like she was the night of
the medical exam.  I had a feeling this was going to be
good.

"Well, each year each of the sororities and private
women's houses on campus place two teams in
competition.  One team is a male contestant, the other
team is made up of one or two females."

"OK.  Let me get this straight so far.  Two teams from
each house.  One guy, one or two girls.  What do they
do in the competition, fuck each other?" I joked.

Lisa studied the scuffed tips of her tennis shoes
before answering.

"Well, in a word, 'Yes'."  It didn't sound like she was
joking.

"You're joking, right?" I asked, just to be sure.

"No."  It was now well established this wasn't a joke.

"And you want me to be the male contestant for Gamma
Phi?"  I jumped to the obvious conclusion.  I wasn't
sure if I was hopeful or horrified.

She nodded, but kept quiet.

"Do the girl teams bark?" I asked suspiciously.  I had
heard some stories about Geek parties.  Those were
pretty cruel.

"No.  Definitely not!  Only the best, uh, performers
from each house are eligible.  Same goes for the guys.
Anything else would defeat the purpose.  "

"Which is what, exactly?"

"It's a tradition, really, going back to the early
1900's, although you won't find anyone who would admit
it happened back then or any public reference to it.
Even now it's kept pretty quiet.  It's just the Greek's
way of settling who's the best fuck house on campus.
The President of the winning sorority is the unofficial
Queen, kind of."

"And how is that determined?"

"Well.  Normally, it's determined by whichever girl, or
team of girls outlasts all or the most men.  That house
is then the named the unofficial home of the best
fuckers on campus."

"But that's not why you want me, is it?"  I was
beginning to understand how this crafty woman thought,
and it scared the shit out of me.  But I wouldn't have
missed this for the world.

Lisa grinned that Cheshire grin I had seen on about the
third day of our marathon summer fuck-fest.  She had
been planning since that day for this.  The whole
summer was testing and preparation, her own special
training camp.  I began to wonder if Greg had really
been unavailable.

"Well, there is one other way, but it has never been
done before."

It hit me all of a sudden.  "Wait.  Let me guess.  I'm
on a roll, no?"

She nodded for me to continue.

"If one of the male teams outlasts all the other female
teams, the house he represents wins by default?"

"Yes"

Bingo.  Got it in one.  I was her fucking ringer.
Literally.

"So, let me recap.  I get to fuck 20 to 25 teams of the
most beautiful women on campus into submission, just so
you can be the Fucking Queen."

She looked at me and shrugged.  "That's about it."

Lisa studiously avoided my gaze for several minutes,
examining the stain on the carpet, the paintings on the
wall, the hanging of the drapes, looking everywhere,
anywhere but at me.

"That's not all, is it?"

She shook her head, screwing up her mouth as she chewed
on the inside of her lip.

"Well?" I prompted when nothing was forthcoming.

"The Queen has a few unofficial duties and
perquisites," she abbreviated.  I think she thought
that was enough to satisfy me.

"I'd like a little bit more information, Lisa."

She glared at me.  I wasn't sure if it was because she
was embarrassed, which I doubted, or if it was because
I wasn't a member of the Greek society, which I
suspected was more likely the case.  I wasn't entitled
to be informed of all the inner workings of the houses.

"The winning house gets first pick of all the new
rushes, no arguments.  They also get to organize the
various functions.  It... It gets political," she
expanded, slightly.

"So, you'd get to be top of the pecking order, if you
won.  Interesting method of selection, I must say."  I
was thinking furiously.  There was something else
driving this young woman.  Then I remembered what
someone said about how to determine the motives of
liberal politicians.  `Follow the money.'  It somehow
applied here, too.

"Is there an entry fee, Lisa?"  From the look on her
face, I knew I had hit a rather large and sore nerve.

She nodded.

"How much?  $100?"

"No."

"More?  $200?"

She shook her head.  "More."

"$500?  Come on, Lisa!  How much?"

"$2,500.  Per team."

A soft whistle escaped my lips.  I was calculating
rapidly.  Twenty houses, minimum, two teams per house,
ergo $5000 per house.  This was serious money.

"What happens to the money, Lisa," I asked quietly.  I
was almost afraid of the answer.

"It's invested."

"Huh?"  No prize money?

Lisa saw I wasn't going to give up until I had an
answer that made sense.

"The Greek Society has a special fund.  Someone came up
with the idea of investing the proceeds of various
money-generating functions that were not charity
fundraisers.  The interest generated each year by these
annual investments could be dispersed to charities and
so on.  At least, that's the way it's usually done.

"Unfortunately, the by-laws don't state how the money
is to be used, since it's not required to be given to
charity, only that it is to be dispersed, and by whom.
The winning house gets the keys to the vault.

"For the last three years the same house has won the
contest.  All the moneys normally given to United Way
and other charities have gone into redecorating and
furnishing their own house.  And there's not a damn
thing anybody can do about it.

"The bitches in charge of the fund couldn't care less
if the reputation of the Greeks is sullied by their
stinginess.  Their actions have caused a lot of bad
feelings, both internal and external.  The community is
starting to wonder what's going on, but there is no way
we can tell them without giving away the whole story."

"So someone else has to win this year?"

She nodded.

"Anything else?"

"Just a couple of details."  She pulled out a piece of
paper from her jacket pocket.  "First, you'll need to
give blood at the University clinic every week.  It
will be anonymous and discrete.  You miss once, we're
disqualified."  She looked up.  "Don't miss."

"Yes, Ma'am," I saluted.  She didn't laugh.

"Second, I need your Friday and Saturday nights, unless
I tell you ahead of time.  Get your studying done
before then or do it during the day.  From 8:00 on
until they collapse, you're mine.

"Third, obviously, if we're going to win by the default
route, you can't fuck any girl from our house during
the contest period.  They were all here, they all got a
good look at you, and frankly, John dear, you could
have had any or all of them.  There were so many pairs
of dripping panties last night, the hallway was
slippery.  But for the honor of the house they will
stay away from you, so you stay away from them.
Clear?"

Well, that explained the funny looks the girls had
given me.  But all of them?  At once?  If I hadn't
already had a hardon, I would have gotten a big one
just thinking about that possibility.

"Any questions?"  I could tell by the way she asked me,
that she really didn't want any.  But a few things came
to mind.

"Uh, yeah.  First, do the girls on the teams have
boyfriends?"

"You could probably count on all of them having some
type of relationship, yes."

"And a lot of these guys are bigger and stronger than I
am, right?"

"Quite a few of them, yes."  Not that I was wimpy, but
I would never have played college football.

I think she finally saw where I was headed.  "Do the
boyfriends know what's going on?"

She nodded.  "Pretty much."

"But not all?"

"No, not all."

Shit!  This was a disaster waiting to happen.  I didn't
have a 'gang' to back me up.  The only three other guys
I knew at State lived in another dorm now and it took
all three of them to lift a six-pack.  Get one
disgruntled Frat boy on my case for fucking his
girlfriend better than he could ever hope to and I was
toast.  I thought fast.

"I want permission slips.  From the boyfriends of the
female team members.  Full disclosure."

Lisa thought a minute.  "I hadn't thought of that.
Good point.  It would probably be a good idea to have
slips from the girlfriends of the male contestants, as
well."

"As long as you can have an option for 'None'," I said
ruefully.

"I could sign it for you, John."

"No. It wouldn't be right, and you want to win by the
book, right?"

Lisa nodded, surprised I had refused.

"Then get one of your pre-Law sisters to write up a
consent form, and leave a spot for 'None.'  Should be
simple enough, no?"

"OK.  Anything else?"

"Yeah.  What's allowed during the, uh, matches?"

"Pretty much anything that doesn't maim, injure, drug,
kill or permanently mark.  Oh, and no drugs or alcohol
during the sessions."

"That's still pretty wide open, isn't it?"

"Whoever made up the rules apparently didn't want to
place any restrains on the creative juices of the
contestants.  But mostly I think you'll find it's just
straight fuck till you drop.  Of course, no one tells
what they did, only how well.  That's another unspoken
agreement.  No telling."

"Are there observers?  How do you know who wins."

"Oh.  Well, yes, you can have observers if you want.
It's rare, but you can request them.  Most of the
boyfriends, if they're not representing one of the
houses, hang around outside waiting, then go home and
have sloppy seconds.  It turns a surprising number of
them on.  Others go get drunk.

"As to who wins, each female team has a digital camera
they carry with them.  A picture of the limp dick
verified by date and time code is to be posted to the
web site by noon the following day.  No picture or a
late picture is an assumed win by the man."

"So if I lose, I get my shriveled prick posted to a web
site?  That's quite an incentive to perform."  Then I
thought about the weekly blood test.  And the one that
Dr. Rita had drawn.  "The blood tests.  You're not
testing for AIDS, are you?"

"John, you impress me.  No, not entirely.  We test for
Viagra or any other of several performance enhancing
substances as well as STDs.  So stay real clean, OK?"
She knew I didn't do drugs.  And that also explained
that lengthy odd conversation last summer.  Damn, she
was good.

"Which reminds me, John.  Here.  These are OK to take."
She reached into her other jacket pocket and pulled out
a pill bottle.  She tossed it to me.  Oh, right.  The
stuff from Dr. Rita.

"Now next, and this is non-negotiable, Lisa, when I win
this for you, I want something."  I didn't say if, you
notice.

Lisa looked uneasy.  "What?"

"I get the house.  All of you.  For a weekend.  No
blindfolds."

She flinched.  "Some of the girls are virgins."

I nearly shouted 'Hallelujah!'  "Tough.  They won't be
afterwards."

She sighed in concession.  I had won!  "OK, John, you
win.  But it's traditional that the guy spends the
whole week of Spring Break at the winning house..."
She grinned slyly at me.

Damn!  Suckered again.  "OK, a week it is.  Deal?"

"Deal!"  She looked at me warily.  "Anything else?"

"Yeah.  Just one more question."  I paused for effect.
"When do we start?"

"YES!" she squealed, and suddenly she was the girl from
last summer again, if only for a moment.  I thought she
was going to hug me, but the moment passed.  Instead,
we just 'high-fived' and bumped the outsides of our
hips together.

It was a hollow celebration.

It turned out that Halloween was the official start of
the contest.  That gave me a good chance to get into
the routine of my classes before all the frivolity.  I
was building up a pretty big load of cum, as the stuff
Dr. Rita had given me seemed to be working.  I could
masturbate and cum several times a day now, and the
'involuntary' emissions seemed to be a thing of the
past.  I was able to wear a single pair of shorts all
day.

I met my neighbors, Claire and Abigail, or Abby, as she
preferred.  They were both seniors and very serious
about their studies, so they were quiet.  Claire had
pictures of a small boy on her desk, and, when I asked
about him, just said his name was Sam and that he was
staying with his father's parents.  She wouldn't say
anything else about him, so I didn't press.

Abby had a boyfriend in the Army, a Captain, or
something.  She was trying to finish, then they were
getting married and then they were going to save the
world.  She was so perky and optimistic, it made my
teeth hurt.  And with her ultra liberal views of the
world, I just couldn't see her in a military base
environment.  It was obvious why the Captain wanted
her, and it wasn't her ideals.  Abby was hot.

There were four other guys on the second floor in a
suite at the other end.  In fact, there was only one
suite of guys per floor in the whole dorm.  The women
teasingly referred to us as 'jar-openers' or 'heavy
lifters.'  I guess it could have been demeaning, in a
way, but nothing most of us didn't deserve.  And no one
ever said it like they meant it to hurt.  For the most
part, everybody just tried to get along.

The first Friday night after Halloween I was sitting at
my desk, trying to read a heavy passage in my English
Poetry class.  Physics I could understand, but
literature?  Why don't you just shoot me now?  And why
couldn't they ever use a complete word, much a whole
sentence.  It was e'en this and e'er that.  I was
rescued from drowning by a knock on the door.

Opening it, I saw a cute young girl about my age.  She
was looking at me expectantly.  When I didn't say
anything or invite her in, she said those three words
that I was going to hear over and over.

"Lisa sent me?"  She put a little inflection at the
end, making it a question, like she wasn't sure if she
was in the right place.

"Oh, sure!  Come on in."

Fortunately I hadn't had a really good chance to mess
up the place and part of Gamma Phi's 'service,' as Lisa
put it, was to clean up my room for me on Sundays.  But
I couldn't be there while whoever cleaned up was.  Lisa
had muttered something about 'temptation' and 'candy
from babies' or something, but the end result was that
I spent Sunday afternoons in the library.

I turned from straightening up the stray chair to see
the Dairy Queen from Wisconsin standing there in a down-
filled jacket.  She wasn't really the Dairy Queen, but
you get the picture.  Wholesome looking, wavy blonde
hair, blue eyes, rosy cheeks, five foot two, the whole
nine yards.  Not someone you would think was willingly
taking part in a fucking contest.

"Are you sure Lisa sent you?"

She dimpled when she smiled, blushing just a little.
Good!  For a minute there I thought I was the only
nervous one in the room.

"Yes.  I'm sure."  She was eying me like a predator
now.  Sizing me up.  Her coat came off and I just about
choked.  She was wearing a Cheerleader's outfit.

"Oh, shit!"

She giggled and pirouetted for me.  I hadn't meant to
say that out loud.  As she twirled, the pleated skirt
flew up as it was designed to and I discovered she
hadn't worn the whole outfit.

"Ohhh, ssshit!"  I looked up at her twinkling,
mischievous eyes and could suddenly see why she was in
the contest.  She was a contender, too.

"I, uh, I'm John," I said, holding out my hand.

"Aren't you all," she quipped back, grinning.  She was
quick.  "Mary Ann," she said taking my hand.

Her hand left mine and went for my belt.  I had to
deduct two points from her score as she fumbled a bit.
I wondered if it was because of inexperience,
excitement, or fear.  I decided it didn't matter when I
heard her reaction to freeing me of my lower garments.

"Oh, dear God in heaven..."  She touched her finger to
the tip of my pecker with the reverence of a nun
lighting candles.  I don't think she realized she had
sunk to her knees until she placed her lips on the tip.
I saw the conflict in her eyes as she looked up at my
face, torn.

"I know.  You have a boyfriend."

A tiny tear rolled down her cheek, the only consolation
Mike or Steve or whatever his name was, was going to
get from her tonight.  Something in the way she held it
in both hands, as if praying to it, made me think
what's-his-name didn't get this done to him very often.

While she was praying, I took off my shirt and relieved
her of her sweater.  She hadn't worn a bra, either.  I
was going to have to go to more sporting events if all
the Cheerleaders dressed like Mary Ann.

Standing abruptly, vespers at an end, she placed both
of her small hands on my chest and pushed me back on to
the bed.  With her face next to mine, I touched her
lips with my finger tip, a question in my eyes.  She
started to say something, then decided against it.  She
kissed me fiercely as she slowly slid herself on my
throbbing erection.

Somewhere after her first climax she lost the skirt and
we were both naked in bed.  I hoped the thumping of the
headboard against the wall wouldn't keep Claire and
Abby awake.  I would have to fix that.

Around mid-night I think she knew she had lost this
round, but fierce competitor that she was, she kept at
it.  She got a crazed, delirious look in her eyes
towards the end.  She left around two, but not before
she reached a tremendous climax that left her
blubbering on my chest.

As she put her coat back on she looked up at me with
awe and more than a bit of fear.  Reaching up to my
face with her hand, she drew the backs of her fingers
down my cheek in a gesture of affection.

"When this is over..." she started.  "May I see you
again?  I've never..."  She shuddered, remembering the
last orgasm.  "I mean, you know..."

I slowly shook my head 'No' as I kissed her on her
sweaty forehead.  We both knew she had a boyfriend.

Saturday night was Joy.  She came as a Catholic school
girl, complete with plaid skirt, knee socks, black
patent leather shoes, white cotton panties, white
blouse, white cotton bra and glasses.  The glasses were
the last things to come off.  They were props.

There was something familiar about Joy that I couldn't
put my finger on.  Her dark hair framed an elfin-like
face.  Her dark eyes danced brightly and she truly
liked to fuck, throwing herself into it with total
abandon.  It was a joy, no pun intended, to be with
her.  She was by far the most vocal of any of my
partners to date and I worried - briefly - about my
neighbors.

Joy entered into the contest with an energy level that
was hard to keep up with.  How she maintained that
level was a mystery to me, and it wasn't until 1:00
that she began to wear down.  Her breathing became
labored, her actions more frantic.  She got that same
crazed look in her eye that Mary Ann had the night
before.  I began pumping in earnest, trying to leave
her with something special to remember this night by.

Joy screamed, digging her fingernails into my chest.
She began shaking and gasping as if she couldn't get
any air.  Her legs tightened around my hips, squeezing
me in a loving death's grip.  She collapsed on my
chest, muttering, "I didn't believe, I didn't
believe..."

Joy cried when she had to leave, holding on to my waist
tightly, like she didn't want to let go.  I had to go
to the window and get her boyfriend's attention to come
up and get her.  He wasn't happy and it wasn't because
I had had to wake him up.

It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving break when Lisa
showed up.  I let her in and she made herself
comfortable on my bed, but in a non-inviting way.  I
didn't join her.  I was still struggling with the
English Poetry, the text book open on my desk and my
notes strewn over the rest of the room where I had
thrown them in frustration.

"They figured it out."

She was cryptic, but I knew what she meant.

"All the guys dropped out?"

"Oh, they won't drop out, just in case you screw up or
get `DQ'ed.  But the last limp dick got posted to the
web site this afternoon."  She sounded smug, but
worried too.  Her chosen path to victory was a long one
and there were a lot of places to fall off the track
still ahead of us.

"You should expect the competition to get tougher from
now on.  It could even get mean.  Us girls don't like
to lose," she said, not joking.  "So be prepared for
some stranger stuff than you've had the last couple of
weeks, OK?  Some of the remaining teams are Psych
majors who may try to play with your mind, humiliate
you, scare you, stuff like that.

"You'll have this weekend off," she said, changing the
subject.  "You going home?"

I shook my head silently, going over and staring out
the window at the turning leaves.  The thought of
another strife-filled Thanksgiving with my Mom, brother
and sister didn't appeal to me, at least not now.  Dad
wouldn't be back from his assignment until after
Christmas.  I was going to stay right here.

"You holding up alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, except for the damn Poetry class."

She was quiet.  "I could get you the test
questions...?"

I was so desperate, I actually thought about it.  For
two seconds.

"No."

"I didn't think you would take them."  She sat for
moment, then brightened.  "I could get you a tutor?
I'll ask around to see if anyone knows somebody who
could help you."  We both knew she couldn't send
someone from her house.

"Hell, I'll take all the help I can get.  Sure.  OK."

Lisa sat there playing with the bedspread watching me.

"What's the matter, John?  Something's bothering you."

It wasn't the right time and beside, I didn't know what
the fuck was wrong.  The cleaning crew was due and I
had to get out and go to the library soon.  I had
yelled at my lab partner for no reason this week.
Every little thing seemed to upset me.  And I didn't
have a clue what the problem was.  I just seemed to be
pissed all the time.

I turned to the closet to get my jacket and started
packing up my books.  I could feel her gaze on me,
following me as I paced the small room.  I crumpled
down into the chair, tears coursing down my cheeks.
Something in her concern had touched me and the dam
burst.

She let me cry.  She didn't try to stop me, or touch my
shoulder or do anything to make it more awkward.  That
was Lisa's way.  Perfect.

When I finally quit blubbering, I wiped my nose on my
sleeve and used my shirt tails to dry my eyes.  I
looked up at her.  She looked so sad, watching me, like
she knew something that I had to figure out myself.  I
grimaced and we left together.

For the most part the girls I had met were nice girls.
Not necessarily promiscuous.  I wouldn't use that term,
even under these circumstances.  I would say they were
friendly.  Real friendly.

The girls who showed up Friday after Thanksgiving were
no exception.  Other than they tied me to the bed, a
first for me and tried to gently `psych' me out.  But
when they saw my unflagging devotion to Gamma Phi, they
took gleeful advantage of the situation, even allowing
me to use the ropes on them, another first, only this
time for all of us.  They didn't want to leave, even
after they had conceded, and their boyfriends had to
sleep in their cars that night.

Friendly was not the term that sprang to mind when I
opened the door on Saturday night.  These two were as
close to professionals as you could get without
charging money.  Even then, from the rocks on their
fingers, it was obvious they had already gone to the
highest bidders.

Dena and Dana were twins.  Identical and as close to
perfection as money and medical science could make
them.  Any imperfections they had ever had, real or
imagined, had been surgically eliminated or enhanced.
Breast implants, collagen injections, tints, a nip here
a tuck there.  I was looking at $100,000 on the hoof
already, and Daddy was still looking at a double
wedding.

I should have been excited.  Even with the hermit's
existence I had had at State, I had heard of these two.
Spoiled, bitchy, and in general not very nice, they had
cut a swath of ruined reputations and cowering
administrators as Daddy's money and lawyers kept them
in school.  I could only imagine what they had done to
get elected as co-president of their sorority.
Blackmail and extortion would be the easy things to
guess.

Don't get me wrong.  They were beautiful.  Gorgeous.
As good as anything I had ever seen in Playboy and then
some.  And, like Lisa, they knew it.  Unlike Lisa, they
rubbed your nose in it.  There was a hardness to them I
had not yet encountered with the other contestants and,
unfortunately for Dena and Dana, it ticked me off.  The
look of disdain as they surveyed my accommodations
didn't help their case.

Dena was the designated fuckee that night.  They were
usually so sensually overwhelming that only one of them
had to condescend to consort with the commoners at a
time.  By alternating nights, they could share the
Fucking title.

Dana prepared her sister for me, taking off her trench
coat, leaving her sister dressed in a wisp of a baby
doll nightie and matching high-heeled mules.  Her
blonde hair was artfully arrayed on the pillow, legs
teasingly spread, a buffet to die for.  Dana's coat
followed and she arranged herself like a floral
arrangement - something to enhance the meal but not a
part of it.  She was visual stimulation and the toys
she arrayed before her told me she was going to put on
her own show, again, for my benefit.

It was too practiced.  Or maybe I was just pissed at
the world and Dena and Dana were the last straw.

Normally, I let the girls be on top.  It was easier for
them and safer.  With Dena, I lifted her perfect ankles
up over my shoulders and moved my stomach in close to
her ass.  I looked eager to fuck and the twins
exchanged a smug look.  When I pulled my shorts down,
neither girl could see what was coming.

Dena, when I slowly inserted the head of my cock,
"Oooohhhhh"ed her pleasure.  At some point she must
have realized she was not going to be able to
accommodate my girth with ease and the "Ooooohhhh"
increased in pitch and volume, ending with a very
uncomfortable "Ooofff" as I rammed myself home.

Dana hadn't yet realized her sister's distress and
began an obscenely raunchy patter, obviously designed
to heighten the experience.

"Louder, Dana.  That dirty talk really turns me on," I
encouraged her.

In a voice pitched to peel paint, Dana cranked up the
volume.  The filth spewing from her mouth would have
embarrassed a longshoreman, but she said it
nonchalantly, like she could have been filing her
fingernails at the same time instead of ramming a 12-
inch dildo up her cunt.

Dana's chanting covered the squealing noise of Dena's
surprise.  She had tossed her head as well upon my
initial thrust, and the perfectly coifed hair had
mussed itself over her perfectly surprised blue eyes
and her perfectly flared dainty nostrils.

My intent was not to hurt her and I don't think I did.
I let her adjust for a second or two, and then I began
a rhythm designed to wear her down.  Down and out.
This was competitive fucking.  Dana took it for a long
time until a look of distress came over her face.
Distress and bewilderment.  This had never happened to
her before and I don't think she knew what to do or how
to ask for help.

When she started grimacing with every inward thrust, I
eased myself out of her cunt.  It was nearly dry, like
fucking into a tube of sandpaper.  Looking her in the
eye, I lowered my aim slightly and applied a little
pressure.  Even through the mussed up hair I could see
her tired eyes fly open.

"Oh, God, Da (she pronounced it like `day').  He's
going to do my ass!" wailed Dena

"Well, big boy, like the back door?  Go!  Go!  Go!"
Dana, still clueless, got right into it and offered no
support to her sister.

"No, Da.  He's too big," she gasped as the head popped
through her perfectly tight sphincter.

"Oh, come on, De.  We practiced with those beer
bottles.  Just loosen up," encouraged her sister.

Whatever Dena said after that was lost in an
unintelligible babble and the rousing cheerleading of
her sister.  I was just glad that my neighbors were
both out for the evening.  I continued to force myself
in, careful not to rip her open, but not holding much
back from that point.

I fucked Dena until she couldn't respond.  When Dana
realized she was going to have to relieve her sister
and finish me off, she was a little put out.  Before we
began I encouraged her to continue her filthy talk, the
louder the better.  She was in the middle of the word
`fuck' when I rammed it in.  Her practice with the
dildo had helped loosen her up, but I was thicker and
she knew it very soon.  She mispronounced the word she
was saying, her emphasis being placed towards the end.

I hammered her fore and aft until she was as lifeless
as her sister.  Then I stacked them face to face and
went ass cunt cunt ass cunt cunt ass, up and down in a
four stroke rhythm until they cried `Uncle.'

I found their boyfriends slouched down in the hallway,
heads in hands, crying.  They had heard the whole
thing, or at least the last part after the cold
temperatures outside had driven them indoors.  We got
the two girls dressed.  They had to be carried down to
the waiting cars.

I slept late the next afternoon.  I would have slept
later, but Lisa woke me with hot coffee about 1:30.
She was sitting across the room.  She looked serious.
Serious and sad.

"You going to pull me from the contest?" I asked
sullenly.

She gave me a look I couldn't read.  "I've thought
about it.  What do you think?  Do you want to quit?"

I rolled over and sat up in bed.  "I've thought about
it, too."  I reached out and took a sip of the coffee
she had brought.  "If it means anything, I don't like
what I did last night.  It wasn't very nice."  I didn't
elaborate.

"I would hope not."  She held up her hands, stopping my
response.  "No, no one said anything about what went
on.  In fact, I was half way expecting their house to
file a complaint against you.  Instead, well, they sent
you a "Thank You" card."  She held out a large Hallmark
covered with signatures.

"Apparently the twin terrors have been babbling and
incoherent since their return last night.  They had
never lost a match in three years.  It wasn't just what
you did to them.  They were devastated that they had
lost.  To a man.  And a non-Greek, to boot.  Some of
their sisters took the opportunity to stage a coup and
voted them out of office and then kicked them out of
the house.  For, and I quote "conduct unbecoming a
sister."  The news spread like wildfire through the
other houses this morning."  Lisa paused, looking down
at her hands.  "Several houses got together and took up
a collection and gave it to me to give to you."

I waited.

"I sent it back," she said quietly.  She looked up at
me, meeting my eyes.

I nodded that she had done the right thing.

"Mind you, John, I don't like what I'm seeing happen to
you.  I worry I may have misjudged you.  Sure, those
two were real bitches and probably got what they
deserved, but I didn't expect you to be the one to give
it to them."

She got up and came over to sit on the side of the bed.
She wasn't being sexy.  "What's the matter, John?
What's changed?"

What I couldn't say before Thanksgiving suddenly came
pouring out in a torrent of frustration and tears.

"Lisa, do you know how hard it is?  All these great
girls, they're so nice to me, and it's not just that
they go to bed with me.  They act like they like me,
and not just because of, well, you know...

"And then it's over and they go home with Steve or Mike
or Allen.  I see them on campus and they wave as they
jog by or they'll run up and hug me, anxious to
introduce me to Steve or Mike or Allen.

"That's what's wrong, Lisa.  Everyone - every single
one of them has someone.  Someone to go home to, to
think about, to care about, to make them feel special.
Someone to make plans with, to love.  Everyone but me."
OK, I was feeling a little sorry for myself.  OK, a lot
sorry.  It didn't make the pain or the loneliness I
felt any less painful or lonely.

She nodded.  "Rita warned me about this happening.  She
said you were special, and she wasn't referring to your
condition."  She leaned forward.  "Isn't there anyone
in your classes that interests you?"

I shook my head.  "No.  Besides," I grinned at her
wryly, "when you've had the best, the rest just don't
measure up."

"John!..."  Her voice broke a little, choked up.

"I know, Lisa, I know.  I was just kidding.  Sorry.  I
talked with Rita, too.  I know it wouldn't work between
us, but I miss that friendship or whatever it was we
had.  I really thought you cared about me, and not just
because of my condition."

"I did - I do, John!" she blurted.  Then, "I miss it,
too," she admitted quietly.  I almost didn't hear her.

We sat in silence, our first really awkward time since
that first day by the pool.  I got my books together
and she walked me to the library.  The clean up crew
was due soon.

I hadn't progressed very far with Poetry in the library
so I went home.  I had the stereo playing on a Blues
station.  I hadn't listened to it much before, but
suddenly it seemed to express the way I felt right
then.  It wasn't loud, but it was intense and I almost
didn't hear the knock on the door.  I wasn't expecting
anyone.  It was Sunday and I didn't get visitors except
for Friday and Saturday.

I opened the door and got a firm push back into my
room.  I almost didn't recognize her but it was Claire
from next door.  Fresh from the shower, her hair was
slicked back and she had wrapped a light robe around
her.  She looked strange.

"What the fuck are you?"  Another push.  Well, more
like a good nudge, both hands bouncing off my chest.
She was batting at me more than pushing, but I
retreated just the same.

"Every fucking weekend..."  Another nudge and she
kicked the door shut behind her.

"...Sometimes two at a time."  You got it.  Another
nudge.

"Last night was the last straw."  Another nudge.  I sat
down on the bed.

"Oh.  I'm really sorry about that.  You said you were
going to be gone this weekend.  Abby, too.
Otherwise...," I tapered off.

"Well I was here, God damn it!"  She was standing over
me, glaring.  "At first we thought you were a gigolo,
but then we saw all the boyfriends hanging around
outside.  We found some of them crying in the hallway,
by the way.  I'd avoid any dark alleys over on Frat
Row, if I were you.

"Anyway, week after week I'd hear your fucking bed
pounding on the wall.  Over and over, all fucking night
long.  And just when I'd get to sleep ....  What?  What
is it?"

I was waving my hand at her.  She had a pretty good
head of steam up and I didn't want to interrupt her
but, well...

"Um, uh, Claire, uh, your, uh, robe, um, it's, uh,
well, uh, it came open, kind of."

There was no 'kind of' about it.  Claire was stark
naked under her robe.  Of course, that didn't strike me
as odd until later.  Much later.

Claire looked down and, to her credit, tried to blush.
She knew, as I now did, that she had nothing to be
ashamed of, unless, of course, she was a prude.

She wasn't and the robe puddled around her feet when
she shrugged her shoulders.  She put one knee on one
side of me, then pulled up her other knee on the other
side, straddling me.  If I stayed sitting up like I
was, I was going to get a face-full of pussy.

I expected her to push me down on the bed, but instead
she grabbed the back of my head and jammed my nose into
her crotch.  She smelled wet.  Musky.  Aroused.
Suddenly I understood that look in her eye.  I was
going to say something about it, but at the moment, my
list of options included sucking or licking.  Speaking
would have to wait.

I licked.  Then I sucked.  I licked some more, then
sucked.

By this time I had figured out what she wanted and had
worked my shorts off and down to my ankles.  Claire
sank down slowly, giving me a reverse tour of the
journey I usually made.  When her pussy met the tip of
my cock she groaned.  She didn't stop sinking.

Claire was the first woman to take me whole in one
sitting.  She said it was because of the childbirth of
Sam.  It had been difficult.  But after that, she
didn't want to talk.  She just needed to be fucked.

Apparently all the nocturnal weekend activity had been
driving her and Abby crazy.  At first they were mad,
then they got the giggles.  Then, last night during
that noisy session with the twins, something had
snapped with Claire and she found herself incredibly
horny.  For me.  Nothing else would satisfy her, and
according to her, she had tried most everything else,
including two of the guys down the hall, a vegetable
and six sets of batteries for a personal appliance she
had.

She still had an itch.  So we scratched it and
scratched it until it went away.  And so did she.  She
had a son.  She didn't need the complications of a
boyfriend.

Monday Abby showed up.  She missed her soldier, so she
used me for an evening.  It wasn't really using.  I let
them.  I wanted them to.  I just didn't want to be
alone anymore.

Tuesday was Julie from the fifth floor.  Wednesday
Nicole from first.  Thursday Shayla stood timidly in
the hall when I opened to her knock.  I happened to
catch Claire looking out her door at us and she shooed
us in.  I suspected then that Claire had set up a
schedule for me for the nights when Lisa didn't need
me.  I was right.

I didn't spend another night alone.  We were all needy
in the night, and they came to my room for any number
of unspoken reasons, but when they left my room, I was
still alone.  It passed the time, but it didn't help
the ache inside.

"Hi!  Lisa sent me."

I stood staring at this young girl in front of me.  I
had answered the door and there she was.  Yet another
girl at my door, though there seemed to be something a
bit different about her.  The winter wind had whipped
her long blonde hair into a disorderly mess that she
didn't seem to notice.  Her horn-rimmed glasses, taped
across the nose-piece, sat crookedly on her face, which
was devoid of any makeup.  Her long insulated coat was
buttoned wrong, having one extra button at the top and
an extra hole at the bottom.  Her mittens, clutching a
thick stack of books to her chest, didn't match.  One
end of the woolen scarf was tucked in her coat, the
other end had been caught by the wind and was now
hanging down her back.

I checked the clock.  It was 8:00 Friday, but 8:00 in
the morning.  I invited the girl in and stumbled to the
bathroom.  And Lisa had told me I had this weekend off,
too.  Some big deal Greek function or something.  Even
classes were suspended for a long week-end.  I had been
hoping to spend the time studying and memorizing to be
able to at least get enough of a grasp of the now-hated
Poetry class to pass.  It was going to be a challenge.

I looked at myself in the mirror and groaned.  I had
horns in my hair where I had slept wrong, two day's
growth on my face and, looking down I saw that I had
worn boxers to bed.  I didn't own a robe.  I was wide
open.  At least she hadn't screamed.  College girls
were like that, I was finding out.

I cleaned up as best I could, shaved, showered and
wrapped a thick towel around my waist.  I dashed into
the room, retrieved my pants, went back and finished
dressing.

When I came out, the girl was sitting at my desk,
reading and scribbling notes furiously in a dog-eared
notebook.  The bed was made, my clothes picked up off
the floor and the curtains were open.  It was a
beautiful winter day.  She had been busy, not that she
was responsible for the sunshine.

I went over and sat beside her at the desk.  I watched
her reading.

"I'm John," I finally said.

She looked over at me, tipping her head to look over
her glasses at me.  "I know."

She went back to reading.  When she finished the
chapter, she closed the book.  I sat there, baffled.
What the Hell was going on?

"Coffee?  Lisa said you take yours black."  She fished
a thermos out of a bag I hadn't noticed and poured me a
cup of the life-giving fluid.  Our fingers touched as
she handed me the cup and she blushed, turning her head
away from me as if burying her face in her far
shoulder.

It was good coffee.  "Thanks."

She just nodded and refilled the cup.

We sat in silence while I finished the second cup.  She
didn't join me.  I declined any more.

"Do you have a name?"

She nodded.

Thank God!  I was beginning to think maybe her parents
had forgotten something.

"Are you going to tell me what it is, or should I just
snap my fingers when I want your attention?"

I had never seen a person blush, hide behind their
hands, smile sheepishly, laugh and cry all at the same
time.  It took the young girl a while to get a grip.

"E-E-Emily."

"Hi, Emily.  I'm John."  I held out my hand.

She stared at it, like it was a snake or something.  I
was beginning to wonder what Lisa had told her about
me.  Then slowly, as if hypnotized, she extended her
own delicate hand and placed it in mine.  She made it
seem like an act of total surrender, a maiden giving up
her virtue but somehow I got the impression it wasn't
all that unwillingly.  She actually shuddered as I
squeezed her hand slightly.  If I wasn't mistaken,..
No, she couldn't have....

"Why did Lisa send you, Emily?"  I didn't think she was
a contestant in the contest.  If she was, she was too
dumb to tell time.  That didn't seem likely.

"P-Poetry.  Help."

The poor girl was frightened to death about something.

"It's a nice day.  Do you want to take the books and go
for a walk?  We'll come back when we get cold.  OK?"

She was already putting her coat on before I finished
asking.  I grabbed my Poetry textbook and followed her
out the door.

We walked and talked for most of the day.  Once out of
my room, she loosened up considerably.  We would sit
and I would read her a passage.  Then she would take me
through it line by line and get me to see what the poet
was trying to say.  I'm not entirely stupid, and I
eventually began to understand.  Still, why couldn't
they just say what they mean?

I began to see why when she read me some passages.  The
words flowed off her tongue and danced among the leaves
blowing in the icy wind around us.  I could feel the
rhythms of the horse' hoofs, the pounding of the
lovers' hearts and the heavy sorrow of death.  She
showed me that I had been reading with my head, not my
heart.

When Emily was talking about poetry, she was a
different person.  There was a spark, an exuberance
that lit up her face.  Her green eyes began to seek out
mine and eventually they didn't turn away when we met.
She had that sweet smile of an innocent child.

We had lunched in a small cafe, lingering until they
closed to get ready for the dinner crowd.  The sun was
still bright and it was a bit warmer so we wandered
from one end of campus to the other, strolling along,
shyly getting used to each other's presence.

On our way back through the Quad a Golden Retriever
pulled away from its owner and went romping across the
sodden grass, barking gleefully, chasing leaves, birds
and other pleasures normally forbidden in these
hallowed halls of education.  In its random rush to
avoid capture by the pursuing owner, it bounded toward
the tree Emily and I were standing under.  As it ran
past, I grabbed the trailing leash.

The dog kept running, but as it was now tethered at one
end by the leash in my hand, managed only to tangle
Emily and I together, running around us two or three
times.  We were forced together.  It was our first
contact.

I remember we were laughing at the happy dog, wrapped
up facing each other, and then we weren't laughing.  I
got lost in her eyes.  They were the color of emeralds
and they captivated me as they searched my own.  I felt
her grab my elbows for support, the poetry books
crushed between us.  My breath caught in my chest.  I
couldn't breathe.  I could feel my heart pounding,
racing, and I remember thinking that I hoped she
couldn't hear it.

I don't remember giving the leash back to the owner,
but I must have.  Pets aren't allowed in the dorm.

When dinner time came around she was shivering, so I
steered us to a small tavern I knew.  It just seemed
natural, and she went in without protest.  After my
last major hangover the day after Dad left I had kept
my imbibing to a minimum.  The dinners in this place
were superb, however, and I could get a student
discount.  It was one of the few places I frequented
outside of the University.

Emily started to tense up again when I ordered wine
with dinner.  Two glasses, one for me, one for her.
She toyed with her glass for a long time, then, seeming
to come to some kind of decision, began sipping it
steadily along with her meal.  I didn't notice any
change in her behavior and we only had one glass
apiece.

We had coffees after dinner.  It almost felt like a
real date.  Emily started touching on things other than
poetry.  She was a freshman, had lived here in town
with her Mom and two sisters for the last five years.
We found we had several things in common, growing up
without a Dad being one neither one of us mentioned.
She had a fascination with the Internet and was
thinking about making that her major.  Poetry was her
true love, but you couldn't eat it for dinner, she
said.

I found myself closing my eyes and listening to the
sound of her voice.  When she wasn't stuttering from
fear and torn with tension, she had a low melodious
voice.  I could see tall trees swaying in the soft
breeze in my mind's eye as she talked.  Cool, tall,
strong, firmly grounded.

Emily took my hand as we left the tavern.  It was
pretty late.  "We can go back now," she said.

Something had changed between us when we got back to
the dorm.  Emily was shy again, but not terrified like
she had been earlier.  She took off her glasses and
placed them on the desk.  Without them she was quite
pretty, and I began to understand they were a part of
her defenses.  Which were falling.

I don't know what she expected me to do.  I think I was
supposed to jump on her and violate her or something,
but that wasn't my way.

She had just put her glasses on the desk.

"Well, it's late.  I'd better be getting you home.  I
don't have a car, but I'll walk you."

"Oh!  No!..."  She stopped herself.  Then, resolved, "I
want to stay.  A-All n-night."

Brazen hussy!  If it weren't for the delicious blush
creeping up her neck to the tips of her tiny ears, I
just might have thought she meant it or that she wanted
to, you know, test the mattress or something despicable
like that.

"Emily?"

She turned away from me, but didn't flinch when I
touched her shoulders.  She was trembling.

"I'll take you home," I said quietly.

She shook her head, determined.  "No.  I have to stay."

Real romantic.  Not 'I need you,' or 'I love you.'  I
sensed there was something else going on here.

"Even if nothing happens?"

That got her attention.  She looked up at me,
horrified.

"Don't I...?  Don't you want....?  Aren't I pretty
enough?"

God save me from insecure women.  I turned her to me
and she buried her face in my chest.  It felt nice.

"You want to tell me what's going on?"

She shook her head.  I could smell her hair.  My
temperature went up a couple of degrees.  My defenses,
never strong, melted slowly.

"You really want to stay?"

She nodded.  I could smell her hair again.  I was
weakening fast.

"OK, but on my terms, agreed?  You do what I tell you.
Everything, or I take you home.  OK?"

Emily looked up at me, eyes wide.  Her greatest fear
and her greatest hope, all in one package.  She nodded
assent.

"Good.  Now go into the bathroom and get ready."  I
swatted her butt lightly as she hesitated.  She
squealed and scampered into the small room.

I heard water running and some flushing as I prepared
the bed.  I pulled the covers down to the foot of the
bed and then laid a clean top sheet over the ones
already on the mattress.  I heard the door open and
there stood the virginal Emily.

She was slender and deceptively tall.  She had that
habit of some taller girls of hunching over to minimize
their height.  She was dressed in her white athletic
socks, white panties and a surprisingly well-filled
soft cotton Hanes-type bra.  And a wristwatch.  I
thought she was incredibly sexy.

"Lay down on the bed."

I think it surprised her, the abruptness.  Just like
that.  Slam, bam, thank you ma'am.  She probably had
something a bit more romantic in mind for her
deflowering.  But she got on the bed.

"Comfy?" I asked, standing over her at the side of the
bed.

She nodded, clearly frightened.

"Put your hands down, by your sides."

She did.  I noticed she had her navel pierced.  It
struck me as odd.  And very sexy.  I started sweating.
I hoped I could go through with this.

I picked up the side of the top sheet I had laid over
the mattress.  Lifting it over her I covered her torso,
arms and legs, from her shoulders to her toes.  I
tucked the loose end under her arm and leg on the other
side.  Then I had her roll over to the other side of
the mattress, winding herself up in the sheet as she
went.

She was laughing hysterically by the time I had tucked
the free end under her.  She stopped laughing when I
undressed, her wide eyes glued to my raging hardon
sticking through the opening in my boxers.

I visited the bathroom, flushed, put the seat back down
and went back into the room.  I pulled the covers up
over the bed covering her up to her neck, turned out
all the lights but the side lamp.  I paused for minute,
then slowly dropped my boxers.  Naked, I crawled in
beside the bundled girl.

Emily nestled into the protection of my side, laying
her head on my chest.  She was watching my face.  I was
watching hers.

"It's called 'bundling' or something like that," I
explained.  "They used to do it in the old days."

"I know what it is.  And the guys were the ones bundled
up, not the girls!"

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure I could trust you loose."

She hesitated.  "You're probably right."

"You want to talk about it?"

"What?"

"Well, for a girl with no obvious experience..." I held
a finger to her lips to stifle her protest, "...you
seem determined to get some."  I paused.  Something was
missing.  That wasn't quite it.

"Or is it me?  You need to do it with me?"

Emily buried her face in my chest hair.  She teased it
with her breath, blowing it around.

"They laugh at me," she said finally.

"Who laughs at you?"

"Mommy and Joy.  And Lisa.  They make me leave the room
when they talk about, you know, things."

Ah, yes.  Things.  "You mean sex?  Things like that?"

She nodded.

"So you figured if you had sex, they'd let you stay?"

"I've had sex before," she said, a bit defiantly.

"Really?"

"Well, almost."

Almost sex?  Strangely, I knew exactly what she was
talking about.  It was the same kind of sex I had had
before I met Lisa....

Wait a minute.  "Joy is your sister?  Joy, as in
'Catholic School Girl' Joy?"

Emily nodded.

"Why isn't Joy in Gamma Phi?"  I had a sinking feeling
I had screwed up, especially if Joy *was* Gamma Phi.
But Lisa hadn't said anything.

"She's the rebel of the family.  She joined the
SigDees.  She kind of takes after Daddy."

Not in everything, I thought, remembering some of her
more wildly erotic movements.  There had been something
familiar about her and now I knew what it was.  She had
reminded me of Lisa in a basic sensual way, especially
the Lisa of last two weeks before school when she had
let out all the stops.  Something else clicked, too.
Things were falling into place.

It suddenly hit me, "Emily?  Lisa didn't send you, did
she?  You're not really the tutor she was going to
send, are you?"

"No.  I took her place without telling them.  But I
left a note.  They should get it when they get back
tomorrow morning."

Oh, Fuck!  Lisa was going to kill me.

"John?" Emily asked me after a couple of minute's
silence.

"Yes?"

"Would you, umm, do you think, umm, I'd really like,
oh, uh, boyfriend?"

I lay there.  Stunned.  Unless I had forgotten how to
decode messages from shy virgins, I think Emily had
just asked me to be her boyfriend.  I mean, I knew how
I felt.  What I wanted so desperately.  But Emily?
Lisa's sister?  Now it was my turn to stammer.

"Uh, umm, well, uh, can we, er, talk about this a
minute, Emily?"

"John, I know what you do."

"What do I do?"

"You're in a fucking contest for the Gamma Phi house.
You're going to win, too."  There was a note of pride
in her voice.

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Should it?"

Now I was really confused.

"What?"

"Do you love Lisa?"

Why was everyone so fucking concerned about that?

"Uh, I care for Lisa, but, no, I don't love her."

"Yet you two were, uh, intimate all summer, right?"

"Right."

I waited.

"Emily?"

"What?"

"What was your point?"

She sighed that exasperated sigh women reserve for men,
infants and non-housebroken pets.  The 'do I have to
explain *everything* to you' sigh.

"If you and Lisa could do all that, uh, stuff together
all summer and you don't love her, why would I care
about a one night stand?"

"There have been and will be more than one, Emily.  A
lot of them."  I wondered whether to tell her about
servicing the lonely hearts in the dorm, too.  "There
are others outside of the contest, you know..."

"I know about them, too."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"Lisa and Mommy think you just don't want to be alone.
They say you're helping all those lonely girls, too."
She blew the hairs around my chest some more, thinking.
"That would have to be cut down a little.  You have to
have time to study and well, I'm going to want some of
your time, too.  You know, when we, you know..."  She
stopped, blushing at the thought of us having sex.

"What about Spring Break?"

"Lisa said you got really excited about that, what with
some of the girls being virgins and all.  How could I
refuse to let you go?  I wouldn't be a very
understanding girlfriend if I did that, would I?"

"Wait a minute.  I thought you said they made you leave
the room when they talked about sex and stuff."

"They do.  But I don't shut the door."  She paused.
"Did Lisa really try to take you up, you know, the back
way?  And the twins?  Did you really do all that rough
stuff?"

Emily was going to be a handful.

"Yes."

"Wow."  I could tell she was thinking.  "Will you do it
to me like that, too, in my butt?"

I gathered her to me, hugging her tightly.  My erection
pressed against her thigh and I felt her catch her
breath.  I answered her carefully.

"Emily, when you're ready, we'll do anything you want.
Some women don't like to do certain things."  Lisa had
told me over and over never to force anything on a
woman.  Some of her instructions had apparently stuck.

She looked up at me, her luscious green eyes serious.
"Like taking your thing in their mouth and stuff?"

I nodded.

She was quiet for a minute.  "I want to do everything,
John.  But only with you.  You're going to be my first,
all over."

I had died and gone to heaven.  I kissed her forehead.
I hoped she didn't see the tears of joy.  We lay silent
for a while.

"Why were you hesitant to drink the wine at dinner,
Emily?"

"I have a low tolerance for alcohol.  I didn't want be
out of it when you took advantage of me."  She grinned
up at me mischievously.

"But you drank it anyway."

"That's when I decided to take advantage of you.  I saw
you were going to be too much of a gentleman.  So I
figured I was going to need it."  She giggled as she
looked at the sheet binding her tightly.  "Oh, well."

We snuggled for a while getting used to each other's
teeth with our tongues.

"Is what Lisa said true?  About it never going down?"

"Uh-huh."

"Can I see it?"

"Didn't you get a good enough look before?"

"Well, yeah.  But that was, um, before you were my
boyfriend.  Uh, I think I should get to see what I'm
getting, don't you?"

"Oh, you mean I should get to see you, too?" I asked as
I started to peel the sheet down below her breasts.

"Oooo, Jooohn," she squealed, squirming under my
onslaught.  I rolled her over on her back and got on
top of her, straddling her stomach.  The blankets still
hid me from her, though I was pressing down on her
stomach pretty firmly.

She was breathing heavily through her nose, but did not
protest as I eased the top of her cotton bra down,
exposing one perfect breast.  She was a duplicate of
Lisa, only better, if that were possible.  I pulled
aside the covers to expose myself to her.

"Beautiful."

"Yes, it is."

"I meant your thing."

"And I meant yours.  Beautiful."  I looked her in the
eyes.  Finally.

"Emily, do you kiss `Good Night' on the first date?"

She shook her head, grinning as she saw where I was
headed.

"Could you count what we did today as a first date?"

She nodded, giggling.

"So I can't kiss your lips?"

"Nope," she teased and pursed her lips together
tightly, teasing me playfully.

"Well, I'm going to kiss you good night anyway."

I eased myself down on top of her, and kissed her long
sweet neck.  Then I moved down to her exposed shoulder
and the delicate spot where her neck and shoulder join.

Emily was shaking, but she didn't say 'no.'  I trailed
my lips lower, over the beginning swell of her exposed
breast.  Her shaking increased to trembling.  I
captured the erect bud and flicked it with my tongue
lightly.  Emily squealed silently behind her compressed
lips.  She shuddered for a long time.

"Good night, sweet Emily."

I pulled her bra back up and covered her.  I rolled
over off of her and she lifted her head so I could put
my arm under her head, supporting her.  My free hand
drifted towards her chest and attached itself.  It felt
right.

Emily was silent, though I could tell she wasn't
sleeping.  Tremors would pass through her occasionally,
like aftershocks from an earthquake.

"John.  I wet myself."

"I'm sorry.  I thought you went to the bathroom."

"No.  Uh, not like that."

"Huh?....  Oh!  When?"

"When you kissed 'sweet Emily'."

"Oh."

"What are you going to name the other one?"

I laughed.

"I don't know.  Maybe I'll know when I meet it.  Next
time.  Now, good night!"

"G'night."  Then so soft I only heard it because I was
longing for it, "I love you, John."

The door to my room burst open around 10:00 the next
morning.  Had I not been expecting it, I might have
been surprised.  As it was, I was going to have to
replace the latch.

"WHERE'S MY BABY SISTER, YOU CREEP?  WHAT HAVE YOU DONE
TO HER?  IF YOU TOUCHED ONE SINGLE HAIR ON HER HEAD,
I'LL CUT OFF YOUR FUCKING BALLS.  DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
WHERE IS SHE?"

Lisa burst in.  I assumed she was a tad upset, so I let
her vent.  I focused instead on the tall woman standing
in the doorway.

"Hello, Rita," I said gently.  I got up and went over
to her.  Emily and I had only just gotten up and all I
had on were my boxers.  Taking her into my arms, I
kissed her deeply.

"Oohh, God.  Hello.  To both of you," she sighed as her
hand found and captured my erection.  "I've missed
you."

That last was directed solely to my cock.  I didn't
feel slighted.

"Moooother!  Stop that!  I knew it was a mistake to
bring you!"

Rita ignored her ranting daughter.  She cocked her head
towards the bathroom and looked at me questioningly.

I nodded.

She walked over to the disheveled bed and picked up the
extra sheet.  She looked at it oddly for a moment, then
smiled.

"You?"

I shook my head.  "Emily.  Like a mummy."

"Smart boy, John."  She then lifted the covers and
threw them back, exposing the fitted bottom sheet.
Lisa was still fuming, ranting and yelling.

Rita came back over to me, latching on to my neck with
one hand and my erection with the other.  She pulled me
to her and whispered into my ear.

"Is she OK?"

"Yes.  I'd even say she's happy."

"What about you?  Lisa mentioned you were having some
problems."

"I don't think that will be a problem any more, Rita."

"Since when?"

"Since last night.  Well, yesterday.  At the old oak in
the Quad."

"But I thought nothing happened last night..."

"It didn't.  But it will when she's ready."  I wanted
to make that clear.  "The only thing that happened last
night was that I named her right breast 'Sweet Emily'
and she christened my cock 'Little John.'  We're still
debating on what to call her other tit."

"Sweet Jesus..."

"Well, I suppose we could call it that, but I'm partial
to 'Rita'.  Of course, I'd have to thoroughly examine
the original model first. Without a blindfold, this
time."

"Oh, God, John!  Stop teasing or I'll take you right
here on the bed."

Through all of this Rita never released me, holding me
to her tightly.  Finally, Lisa's shouting was getting
to both of us.

"Lisa!  Shut up!"

If Lisa was a General in the hierarchy, this was the
voice of the Commander-in-Chief.  Lisa stopped in mid-
tirade and looked at her mother.

"Look.  What do you see?"  She pointed at the bed.

"Nothing.  So what?  He was here all night with her,
Mom.  He ruined her, I know it..."

"LISA!"

Lisa shut up.

"Look again.  What *don't* you see?"

Slowly it dawned on her.  No telltale blood stains.
None.  The sheet was spotless.  She looked at me, at
her mother, then down to see if I was still hard.  She
couldn't believe her sister had spent the night with me
and was still a virgin.  In her world, that wasn't
possible.  She knew she couldn't have resisted if was
her and it incensed her that her sister might be better
than her in some way.  She was very competitive.  But
then, they all were.

"But- But how?"

"Because he's a gentleman, Lisa and he's smarter than
you are."

"Huh?"

"Lisa, you made a very basic mistake.  I hope you learn
from this."

"What?  What did I do wrong?"  Lisa was bewildered.

"Just because a man is screwing you, does not mean he
will lose all his ability to think.  I know that works
for most men, but not all.  John is one of those few
who can screw and stew at the same time.  You didn't
see that in him, Lisa.

"I knew you had underestimated him the night you
brought him up to the house for his exam."  She turned
to me.  "You almost had everything put together then,
didn't you?"

I shrugged noncommittally and gave a sheepish grin.  If
she wanted to give me credit for being smarter than I
was, I wasn't going to argue with her.  Rita laughed
and I knew she had caught me out.

Billows of steam announced the timely arrival of the
prodigal daughter.  Emily stepped into room, the clouds
obscuring her vision until she was in the middle of all
of us.

"Sweetie, could I use your toothbrush?"  She finally
saw Lisa and her mother standing in the room with me.

"Oh, Hi Sis, Mom.  Mom, please let go of little John,
OK?  That's mine, now."

Rita reluctantly released her hold on my cock.

"'Sweetie'...?"  Lisa looked at me in horror.
"Yours...?  What do you mean 'yours,' Emily?" Lisa
called after her sister, who had disappeared back into
the bathroom.

"What do you think it means, Lisa?  He's my boyfriend
now."

"What?  How?  Since when?"

"Since last night.  Well, yesterday.  In the quad, by
the oak tree.  There was this dog...."  She looked at
me and grinned.  I was right.  It had been a magic
moment.

Emily came out and stood in the doorway of the
bathroom.  She held up the back of her wrist to her
forehead in an overly dramatic pose.

"Oh, Lisa!  John was so gentle with me.  First we got
undressed.  Then he got me in bed so forcefully I
nearly swooned.  He dropped his shorts and then he
turned into a real pussycat.  He had me rolling over
and over, and then, right at the end, he made me cum
again and again and again.  And his tongue!  What can I
say?  Oh, it was so wonderful, Lisa.  But, then, you
remember what he can do to a girl?  Don't you, Sis?"

Lisa wheeled on her Mom.  "You said nothing happened,
Mom!"

Rita was holding her sides, laughing.  She had listened
carefully to what Emily had said.  She hadn't lied, but
she hadn't really said anything either.  She was her
mother's daughter and Rita was openly proud of her
baby.  Even if it was at the expense of her oldest
daughter.  She just kept laughing, holding her sides,
tears forming and running down her cheeks.  Lisa was
not going to get any help from Rita.

Lisa turned on me.  "But what... what about the
contest?" she sputtered.

"I don't know.  Let's find out."

I hollered toward the bathroom, "Emily, Honey?  What
about the contest?"

Emily stuck her head out.  "He's going to win," she
stated simply.  She ducked back inside.

Lisa came over and stood in front of me, beaten.  She
had a 'lost little girl' look on her face.  Too much
had happened too fast, fallen down around her, her neat
little house of cards in ruins.  She put her arms
around my neck and lay her forehead wearily on my
chest.

"John?  Hold me?  Please?"  It was the first time she
had asked.

I slid my arms around that sexy waist and held her
gently.

"I have a girlfriend, Lisa.  I want you to understand
that."

She looked up at me with a rueful smile and nodded.

I think she finally understood.
