Flesh Frolic
by J. X. Williams 


MACINTOSH U. HAD BEEN WITHOUT A WINNING TEAM FOR A LONG TIME. HOW COULD THEY 
attract the studs they needed to build tough teams, staring with football? 
Of course! Broads! And what better place to recruit their recruiters, than 
right on campus? In Sex in America, edited by Henry Anthone Grunwald, we are 
told that: "The temptations of sex try the rational capacities of many 
persons. Certainly the many heavy sexual pressures which our culture places 
on young people should be lightened. But there are other sexual temptations 
which try our rational capacities also. Nor does the interpersonal 
relationship approach rely solely upon sheer intellectual ism and exertion 
of will power. The genuine and deep satisfactions of meaningful 
interpersonal relationships create a capacity in the individual for 
self-acceptance and identification. These will make control much more a 
matter of personal satisfaction and much less a struggle of the will, than 
most of us are aware can be the case.' 


1 

COACH BRADLEY WALKED UP AND DOWN between the two rows of boys, glaring now 
at one, now at another, then collectively at all of them. There were the 
football team, the basketball team, and the baseball team, not to mention 
some tennis players and track runners. Some looked sheepish, some tried to 
sit up straight and look proud, but they all had an air of dejection about 
them. 

"All right, you bunch of girls," the coach snarled. "You know why you're 
here. This is the second straight year the basketball team didn't win a 
game-the second straight year!" Now the basketball players looked 
particularly dejected, while a few of the other boys smiled at them with a 
brief feeling of superiority. 

"Why are you guys laughing?" the coach yelled, looking at those with big 
smiles on their faces. "It's three years since you football boys" won a 
game!" Now the football players, hung their heads, while some of the 
basketball players raised theirs and looked almost happy. But since some of 
those on the basketball team were also on the football team, a few looked 
doubly dejected and woebegone. 

Coach-Bradley went on, "You track boys look like you're out for a Sunday 
walk, and you guys playing tennis, you aren't playing against your fathers. 
And I'm going to put skirts on the baseball team one of these days." 

There was giggling behind the coach at this, and he spun around and glared. 
Suddenly there was absolute silence. 

"Two years, and we ain't had a single victory celebration in this room, not 
one lousy victory where we could come in feeling good and shout to the 
rafters. Not one. And me? I've got just one more year here if I don't come 
up with a winning team-I don't care if it's football or tennis or what-and 
if I don't, I'm going to be out on my ear. Oh, they're going to be nice 
about it, they're going to say it wasn't really my fault, but they're going 
to squeeze me out." 

He walked up and down, looking at each face individually, looking for signs 
of concern or indifference. "Me!" he roared. "When I've been the sole 
support of my mother since I was ten years old! And if you don't care about 
your ol' coach going out on his ear, think of my mother. Don't you care if 
she starves?" 

There was silence for a minute. Then someone said, "Coach?" 

"Yeah, what is it, Smokey?" He didn't have to turn around. He knew the boys 
by their walks, by their voices, even by the way they hung their heads after 
every defeat. 

"We're doing our best." 

The coach sauntered down to Smokey, put his hand behind the lad's neck, and 
for a brief moment, the whole gang thought the coach was going to handle him 
roughly, throw Mm to the floor or something. But he only patted Smokey's 
neck, then ran his hand through the boy's crew-cut hair. 

"I know you are," Bradley said softly. The boys relaxed a little, for this 
was more like the coach they admired and followed to the limits of their 
ability. "I know you boys are giving all you've got out there," he went on. 
"Don't you think I know that? I've seen you come in here ready to cry 
because you've tried so hard and still lost, and I've wanted to tell each 
one of you it was all right, there would be another day. So don't listen to 
me when I get mad. I don't mean half what I say." 

Now the boys relaxed completely and smiled. A few joggled their neighbors 
and said, "I told you so," while Bradley lit a cigar. Then suddenly he 
really did get mad. 

"No, it isn't you boys. It's that bunch of penny-pinching, dim-witted, 
blockhead dunderheads that are running this school, or think they are! It 
would be too much for them to give me a little money so I could buy good 
athletes. MacIntosh U. doesn't do that; they tell me. Oh, it wouldn't be 
ethical." 

He said this last in a sing-song voice in imitation of a pansy, and the body 
roared with laugher, so Bradley went on in the same way. "We don't do those 
things here. You'll just have to do with what you have." 

He let the laughter die down and then went on, "Solid. He looked around at 
the boys now, for he was about to explode his firecracker. "I've decided 
there's only one way we can compete with the other schools and come up with 
a winning team next year. We're going to have to make use of girls." 

Some of the boys looked surprised, some puzzled. Truckdriver, a 
six-foot-four bruiser who played fullback, scratched his head and said, 
"Coach, I ain't never known a girl who could play football worth a damn." 

Bradley suppressed a urge to ridicule the not-too-bright Truckdriver, and 
even glared down those who-giggled. When there was silence, he spoke. 

"We ain't gonna use them to play with a football or a baseball. We're going 
to use them to play with the boys. So when the high-school athletes come 
looking us over-well, we can't offer them money, we can't offer them a big 
name or a winning team, but we can offer them girls. I want them to think 
the place is swarming with willing girls. Are you getting me? Girls who like 
to fool around, girls who'll let a bashful guy cop a feel, girls whose 
clothes aren't too tightly buttoned. We'll give these boys the time of their 
lives." 

The coach puffed on his cigar now, looking out of the corner of his eye to 
see how they were taking it. "And you boys will have to supply your girl 
friends," he said suddenly. This was the clincher. If they rebelled at that, 
he was lost. 

There was some mumbling. Then Truckdriver spoke out. "Coach, my girl doesn't 
like any other boy but me." 

"Oh, she doesn't have to like the guy," Bradley yelled. "She only has to 
give him a good time. And besides, it doesn't have to be your number one 
girl. Is there any guy here that doesn't have at least three or four girls 
chasing after him?" 

The boys smiled at this. It wasn't true, except for a few. As members of 
alosingteam, they were no more campus heroes than the ping-pong team; but 
they liked to hear the coach put it that way. 

"Now, the first group is coming up next weekend. Five guys from Hilltop 
High-three football, one basketball, one tennis. I want 'em made 
happy-awfully happy-while they're here, you know what I mean? I want 'em to 
go away with their heads swimming, stars in their eyes. I want 'em to go 
home with one thought in their minds; that, girls are soft and look kinda 
nice without much on, and they're swarming all over MacIntosh U. I need five 
volunteers." 

A whole array of .hands shot up, and Bradley stood there beaming, because he 
knew they were with him. It would work, it would work. "Okay, you, you ... 
you, you, and you. And the rest of you guys, Just be ready. I'll be calling 
on you later. Oh! And one more thing. Why do you think Murph and Big Ben 
aren't here?" These were his assistants. 

Truckdriver spoke up. "Uhhh, 'cause they're sick?" 

"No, Truckdriver," the coach smiled. "They're not sick. They're not here 
because they don't know about this meeting. It's all my idea, and it better 
not leak out, or I'll really be tossed out on my ear. So keep it under your 
hats." 

Spider, the basketball center, imitated Truck-driver's voice. "Uhhh, coach, 
I don't wear a hat." 

The whole gang laughed. 

"Get out of here, you bunch of rummies," the coach yelled, with a 
good-natured smile on his face. 

 2 

THE BOYS FROM HILLTOP DIDN'T KNOW WHAT HAD hit them. They had expected to be 
shown the campus, to be told what buildings were what, and how much school 
spirit there was. But here they were in a roomful of girls in a party-like 
atmosphere, and there wasn't an adult around to frown whenever they were 
having too much fun. 

What is more, the girls didn't exactly act like official guides. They had 
put a record on and were now dancing a wild dance, hiking up their skirts 
and shaking their bosoms. Oh, they had delightful thighs-naked, firm, and 
beautiful. 

Jeffrey, a shy, good-looking tennis player, sat on one side of the sofa 
watching it all with a big smile on his face. As a tennis player, he hadn't 
been a much-noticed athlete around the school and hadn't developed the 
swagger with girls that some of the other fellows had, and so he didn't call 
encouragement and whistle the way the other guys did. He just sat back and 
enjoyed himself, wondering if he should turn his head away when a girl hiked 
her skirt up so far he could see her .panties. He thought he should, but the 
girls didn't seem to expect him to, and their flashing thighs were so 
delightful to look at. GoshI He had heard some wild stories about college 
girls, but he didn't think they were actually true. 

A breathless girl plopped down next to him on the sofa. She took Jeffrey's 
hand and heaved her bosom a few times in his face, trying to catch her 
breath. "C'mon and dance," she finally said. 

She held his arm across her boobs so that his wrist and hand were pressed 
against her left breast-really pressed against the firm flesh-and Jeffrey's 
instinct was to withdraw his arm lest she think him forward, but she held it 
tightly and well. Maybe she didn't know where it was, he thought. 

"I'm Susan. Who are you?" 

"Jeffrey." 

"Well, c'mon and dance with me, Jeffrey." 

Jeffrey was now stiff with delight, and he dreaded the idea of standing up. 
Somebody would notice, and they would all laugh. "I-I-No, I'd rather not 
right now. Gimme a few minutes." 

"Oh, come on. Don't hold back!" She clapped him on the inside of the thigh, 
and his eyes almost popped out of his head. If she had clapped him about two 
inches higher, she might have been surprised. But she didn't give him time 
to reflect long. 

She jumped up, said, "Come on," once more, and pulled him so hard that 
before he knew it, he was on his feet and pressed tight against that budding 
young body, trying to back away for fear she would know what was 
embarrassing him. 

Suddenly she stopped dancing and whispered in his ear: "It's all right, 
don't pull away. It's all right." 

It's all right? Did she mean--? But Jeffrey wasn't given any time for 
speculation. 

"Relax," she whispered. "Don't you like to dance close to a girl?" 

"Well ... gosh ... most of the time." 

"Then relax and come close to me. It's all right. I know." 

Jeffrey gradually relaxed and pressed himself closer to her, expecting at 
any moment she would say, "Oh!" and maybe walk away. But she didn't. She 
even pushed closer to him, if anything, and now he was as close as he could 
get, and she was only looking up at him with a tender, loving look. 

"There, isn't that better?" she asked softly. 

Jeffrey sighed. "Yes," he breathed. "Yes, yes, it is." 

And it was, to him. It was delightful, that slender, young body pressed 
against him, breasts, belly, the little knobs at the crotch, and all with 
such an air of unconcern. Why, he had never known quite anything like it 
before, feeling free to press right back without embarrassment over what had 
always plagued him when dancing close to girls. Why,, it felt natural for 
the first time in his life, absolutely natural, and he had never known quite 
such exhilarating delight before. 

Now they danced around, Jeffrey not caring whether they bumped into anyone 
or kept time to the music. He wasn't even sure his feet were touching the 
floor. 

"Let's go swimming!" one of the girls yelled, and all the other girls took 
up the cry. "Swimming! Swimming!" 

They were on the second floor of the Student Center, which had a swimming 
pool in the basement, and now they ran helter-skelter down to the basement, 
each girl leading a boy-right into the girls' locker room. 

They all stopped, the boys feeling rather self-conscious, wondering if at 
last the girls were going to say they had stepped a little too far, but the 
girls weren't at all in such a mood. 

"Okay," the lead girl said.. "There are some bathing suits for you guys. 
Now, we're going down this lane, and you're going down that lane, and if any 
of you guys peek over the tops or around the ends of these lockers, you're 
going to get your heads bashed in. How about it, girls T 

"Darn tootin!" one yelled. Then they all brandished their fists as if they 
meant business, and went skipping down their aisle of lockers. 

The boys were in no mood to violate the prohibition. It was enticing enough 
to think thattherewere only one set of lockersless than six feet-away from a 
covey of good-looking girls who were taking off their clothes and who could 
easily be pictured in various stages of disarray. 

So the boys sat on thebenches, hardly moving, staring down at the floor, 
listening to the girls chatter about records they hadbought or exams they 
had just flunked, picturing them kick off their shoes, and pull their 
dresses over their head, or unbutton their blouses, slip their skirts down 
over their hips, and step out of them. 

One girl even said, "Here, I can't get this undone. Unhook me, would you, 
Barbara?*" 

Five boys were able to picture the brassiere coming undone with Barbara's 
help, then sliding over the first girls' arms, her breasts standing clear 
and bare and shimmering-and each boy was sure he was picturing just the girl 
who had said it. 

"God, this is tight," one girl said. "I can hardly get it above my knees." 

And five boys could picture the naked girl with a tight bathing suit just 
above her knees, twisting this way and that, trying to pull it up. So close. 
One could easily have clambered on top of the lockers that separated the two 
groups. The boys' skin tingled with delight. 

"I'll help you!" one of the boys yelled. 

"If you want to get bopped on the head," a girl yelled back, and they 
giggled. 

Anyway, the boy's yell had broken the trance-like concentration on that side 
of the lockers, and now the boys got undressed and hopped in their swim 
trunks in double quick time. 

They splashed and frolicked about, happy in their freedom from adult 
control, in the warm water, and in-well, a frisky companions of the opposite 
sex. The more venturesome boys wasted little time in testing the 
inclinations of the girls, ducking them, fooling around a little, feeling 
here and there. Well, it was almost unavoidable if the girl tried to resist 
ducking-even a prude would have to admit that. And if a few of the girls 
squirmed away when the boys got very, very frisky, none got really mad, and 
none squirmed away at the first touch. 

Jeffrey was standing in shallow water, watching all the friskiness with a 
big grin on his face. He liked to see people happy, and wanted to join in 
their fun, but he had always been so afraid of being pushed away by girls 
that he'd held himself back, and had to work his courage up before he could 
make a move. 

A tall, red-haired girl came over to him. "Hi. Why are you just standing 
here?" 

"I dunno. Just watching." 

"Hey! You got a pretty big suit there. Didn't they have one your size?" 

"Couldn't find one." 

"Why, I bet a girl could just come along and yank it down!" In saying this, 
she grabbed his suit with both of her hands, pulled it down to his thighs, 
then tugged it backup. "Yeah, I thought so," she said matter-of-factly. 

Jeffrey's eyes got big, and his breath wouldn't come for half a minute. His 
whatsis had been naked for that brief time, and the water was so 
transparent. Nothing like that had ever happened before, and though he 
thought he should be embarrassed and bothered, he had the curious and 
unexpected feeling that it was all right, that there wasn't the slightest 
reason to feel shame. The girl was so calm and unafraid-why, he'd always 
thought girls were supposed to scream and run away-or, in this case, go 
splashing away. He found himself relaxed and grinning. 

"Well, we wouldn't want that to happen," he said. 

"Why not?" And now she yanked his suit down to his knees before she pulled 
it back up. "You have nothing to worry about. There isn't a girl here who 
would be afraid to see you naked." 

"Well ... " Jeffrey didn't know exactly what a guy should say to a comment 
like that. 

"Betyou can't pull mine down." 

She was wearing a two-piece suit, and now she stood with her arms out, 
daring Jeffrey to try to pull the bottom half down. 

"Are you the one who had so much trouble getting it on?" he asked. 

"I'm the one. It was a bitch." 

"I doubt if I could do any better." 

"Give it a try. Maybe you're stronger." 

Jeffrey hooked his thumbs inside the suit at each side pf her waist and 
yanked, but nothing happened. 

"Guess not." 

"You give up too easily. Try rolling." 

"Rolling?" 

She rolled the suit down one inch, and then, so that he wouldn't miss the 
point, rolled it down another inch. "like that." 

"Yeah, I see." Jeffrey grinned sheepishly. 

"See is you can do it." 

"Well ... " Jeffrey tried it himself a few rolls. "Yeah, I guess that's one 
way you could get it off." 

"I didn't tell you to stop, did I." 

"Well, no. I just thought-" 

"Don't think. I like to wear my suits down farther. They're too restricting 
this way." 

"Okay, but don't forget to tell me when I've gone far enough." 

The girl smiled. His fingers made her tingle, and she moved ever so much 
closer to him. "You have gentle hands. You're not a football player, are 
you?" 

"No, tennis." 

"Ah, I knew it." Now she suddenly turned around and presented her back. 
"Untie me," she commanded. 

"Untie you? But then it'll fall off." 

"We'll see. Come on. It's just like your shoestring." 

Jeffrey hesitated two seconds, then pulled on a loose strand until the knot 
came undone. The redhead suddenly turned back around, pulled Jeffrey's 
trunks down to his ankles, then got out of the water. Jeffrey was hardly 
aware that he was standing there almost stark naked. When the girl had 
ducked down with his trunks, the top half of her suit had floated on top of 
the water, and when she'd come back up, she'd picked it up nicely with her 
breasts. So for those few seconds, Jeffrey had looked down on the girl in 
the water, naked above the waist, naked except for that dash of black cloth 
around her loins and now the vision stayed with him. He was transfixed. He 
had never seen anything like that before. 

The girl strode along the side of the pool, holding the bra part with one 
hand, throwing the other hand in the air. "Monster!" she yelled. "What sort 
of people do you have at your high school? Look what that boy did to me. Why 
in another minute, he would have had me stripped! He would have pushed this 
down like so, and this down like so." 

In saying this, she pushed down first one side of her suit and then the 
other, so that, now the garment rode low over her abdomen. The boys had 
stopped their fooling around to watch, for if the lower half was getting 
dangerously low, the top half was held rather loosely and occasionally fell 
away entirely when she wasn't careful. Jeffrey had recovered enough to pull 
his trunks back up, but now he stood with teeth chattering. He had heard 
about girls who misrepresented the facts, and now he stood aghast, thinking 
she was completely serious. 

"And me such a nice girl!" the redhead went on. "How was I to know? Then, in 
another second, he would have pushed this down another inch, and then this 
the same way." With her free hand, she again pushed down one side and then 
the other side of her suit, so that a wide expanse of white abdomen showed, 
and Jeffrey feared that with another inch she would be showing more than 
white skin. 

But while Jeffrey stood aghast, the other guys whooped it up, calling for 
her to go further, further. One of the boys jumped out of the pool, ran to 
the girl and pulled on her trunks-and now the-girl really was in a dilemma. 
With one hand, she held onto the lower half, and with the other she struck 
out at the guy, but this caused her top half to fall, so she grabbed at it, 
. leaving the bottom half unguarded. Then the boy, despite the blows she was 
dealing him, stuck his hand in there and yanked down on the little strip of 
cloth, and her red poppy popped out. 

"You son of a bitch!" she yelled. Trying to pull up the lower half of her 
suit with one hand, and forgetting about the top half, she chased the guy 
around the rim of the pool, striking him on the back time after time (he ran 
only fast enough to allow her to keep up) while her breasts wobbled with her 
exertions. And all this time, the boys, including the boy being chased, were 
whooping, yelling and laughing. 

Finally the girl tired of this, and with a threat about what she would do if 
she caught the guy, she jumped into the pool. But she had gotten so much 
attention that it was inevitable that another girl would soon do the same 
thing. 

Now Barbara jumped out, ran along the side to where the red-head had been. 
Barbara was a brunette, slimmer and with smaller breasts, but she was all 
woman, as she soon showed. She gyrated her hips and held her arms in 
contorted positions like an Egyptian belly-dancer. One hand snaked around 
behind her and her bra came loose, but she held it in place with the other 
hand. 

The boys were whistling and cheering her now. 

"Drop it!" one yelled. 

"Off with it!" came from another. 

But the girl was intent on her dance, and gyrated to her imagined music, one 
hand holding the bra in place. Occasionally she would change hands, giving 
the boys a brief hope that she would slip up. Then, holding the bra at the 
nipples with each hand, she bent over, and the boys clamored for her to go 
just one more step. 

Suddenly she turned around and threw that strip of cloth over her head into 
the pool. With her back to her audience and her hands interlocked behind her 
head, she gyrated about some more, and it was a lovely sight, that long, 
slender, bare back, now turning this way, now that, the side of first one 
breast showing, then the side of the other. Then her hands went down to the 
bottom half of her suit; and, like the redhead, she rolled it down halfway, 
then a little further, and then so far it wouldn't have been more tummy that 
showed next. She turned around to her whistling, cheering audience, her 
hands cupped over her smallish breasts. 

"More, more!" one boy yelled, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. 

"More?" the girl asked innocently. "But I'm a nice girl." The boys laughed 
at this. But the girl kept her cool and repeated it. "Oh, I'm such a nice 
girl ... that I cannot deny a request." 

So saying, she turned around and dropped her pants, stepped out of them and 
threw them over her head into the pool. She was stark naked, and boys were 
almost wild in their cheering. 

Now she did a teasing dance, raising her arms high above her head when her 
back was turned. Then, putting an arm across her breasts and a hand over her 
parsley patch, she turned around and gyrated some more. Then, again turning 
around, she raised her arms above her head. 

Jeffrey was entering into the spirit of it all and found this a beautiful 
sight-the slender, naked body turning this way and that, the girl so 
unafraid of the boys, of censure, just happy in her exquisite beauty. 

Then, turning around and covering herself with her hands, she jumped into 
the pool. But the stage wasn't bare long. A third girl jumped up and went 
through her version. There was none of that turning around stuff for her. 
First the bra was loosened. Then, while she held that in place (loosely), 
she used her other hand to push down the lower half of her suit. Every so 
often, she would change hands, catch the bra halfway to her waist, and put 
it back where it belonged. It was simple enough at first, but when the lower 
half slid over her butt-cheeks onto her thighs, she was caught trying to 
hold the bra with one hand, push the suit down with a second, and cover her 
furpiece with a third. But there was no third hand, and the result was a 
flash of hands, a falling bra caught and returned, a glimpse of the 
fur-piece, quickly obscured. The trunks, in the meantime, were slowly making 
their way down her legs, until at last she stepped out of them and held the 
two brief garments modestly in front of her. 

Suddenly, throwing them in the air, she raised her arms above her head and 
yelled, "Happy New Year!" and dove into the pool. 

Immediately, a fourth girl came up-Susan, the one who'd danced with Jeffrey. 
She was wearing a one-piece suit, and turning her back on the boys, she 
pulled down the zipper and wriggling sensuously out of it. With her, it 
wasn't so much how she got out of her suit, as it had been with the other 
girls-it was what she did afterwards. 

When she had stepped out of her suit and kicked it aside, she turned around, 
one arm held lightly across her breasts, the other handover her triangle. 
She went through a slow, rhythmic, sensuous dance in which, despite her 
nakedness, she called attention to the beauty of all parts of her body-even 
out to her fingertips-so gracefully did she move. Occasionally she switched 
hands, but not in a coy, teasing manner. Rather, it was slowly, gracefully 
done, because it was all part of the dance. Then she had her hands out to 
the side and above her head, swaying rhythmically to some jungle music that 
only she could hear. 

The greatest tribute paid to the sheer beauty of her dance was that the 
boys, who had been whistling and cheering, were silent now. There was 
something breathtakingly beautiful about the scene. 

Then Susan stopped and without haste, without false modesty, she covered 
herself with her hands again. "I need a suit to hide my nakedness," she said 
simply. "Let me have yours." 

She pointed to one of the boys. He hesitated, looked around as if for an 
escape route, then quickly doffed his skimpy suit and threw it to her. 
"Thank you," she said, and she held it before her moss. "And yours," she 
said to another boy. Without hesitation, he dropped his trunks and threw 
them to her. "Thank you," she said again. Then, throwing both suits in the 
air, she dove into the pool. 

"Marsha!" one of the girls yelled. Marsha was the only girl who had not 
performed, the only girl who still had anything on. 

"Hell, I can't beat that," Marsha said good-naturedly as she got up along 
the edge of the pool. And she couldn't have, if she'd tried to do the same 
thing Susan had done. But if she couldn't beat it, she could and did tie it, 
in her own way. 

A pleasingly plump blonde girl, Marsha was all circles, and had a sexiness 
about her that slenderer and more beautiful girls could seldom reach, and no 
one could understand why. Now she stood before the boys, running her hands 
over her breasts (her bra had been thrown away quickly), so that each boy 
there felt he was doing it himself, felt those pert nipples rub against his 
fingertips. 

The bottom half of her suit went the way all the other garments had, and now 
she stood before them, running her hands over body in a frank, sexually 
inviting manner. Again they boys were silent, and their breath came short. 

"Do you know how I feel when I'm naked?" she suddenly yelled. "I feel like 
skipping and running and jumping, it's all so wonderful." she answered right 
away, then suited her actions to her springs. It was a delight for all to 
see as Marsha exulted uninhibitedly in her nakedness. Even for the girls it 
was a delight, and the boys paid her the compliment (as they had with Susan) 
of not leering too hard at the parts that had recently been covered. 

"Let me have your trunks, hot-shot!" Marsha said to Jeffrey, when she had 
stopped the cartwheels. 

He gulped, because he was standing right next to a girl, and the last thing 
he wanted was for her to see his actual state of arousal. 

Then he suddenly said, "Ah, what the hell," doffed his suit and threw it at 
the naked girl. 

"And yours," she said to another fellow. And when he had complied, she asked 
the last fellow with trunks on to contribute his, which he immediately did. 
But instead of covering herself to tease the boys some more, as everyone 
expected, she threw them away. 

"Now we're all au naturel," she said, still going through her dance. She ran 
her hands up her thighs and over her belly, then lifted her breasts a little 
and let them fall back ever so slightly to their natural position. She then 
moved her shoulders and let those full, grapefruit-like tits sway gently 
back and forth. 

"Now is there anything wrong with that?" she asked. 

"Nothing wrong with what lean see," one boy yelled. 

"And since we're all in a natural state, I think we ought to have a natural 
little game of catch. The girls have to tag the boys where they're hard, and 
the boys have to tag us where we're soft ... and furry. The first guy to tag 
all five girls wins, and the first guy to be tagged by all five loses, and 
the same with girls. So we'll have two winners and two losers. We'll figure 
out the prizes and penalties afterward. Okay, everybody out for themselves 
and you're all on your own." 

Suddenly the pool came to life again as the five naked boys and five naked 
girls splashed about, alternately trying to get close enough to tag and and 
back away very hastily-after all, it was only the fifth boy they had to 
worry about-and the boys found it easy to run their hands down over the 
girls' smooth bellies to their soft, furry triangles. And if the girls 
reached back and tagged the boys where the boys were supposed to be tagged, 
well, the boys didn't object to that. Most of them even stayed in the 
tagging position for a few minutes. 

Susan climbed out of the pool and dove for Jeffrey, who stood transfixed by 
the sight of that splendid white body streaking toward him. She had just 
surfaced and cupped him where he was supposed to be tagged-she was stroking 
him, really, rather than tagging him when they were all startled by a loud 
clapping, and an angry woman's voice yelling, "What's this? What's this?" 

It was the voice of Miss Jellicoe, head of the women's physical education 
department. 

 3 

THEN ALL STOPPED DEAD IN THEIR TRACKS, some (mostly the boys) looking 
sheepish, some looking a little defiant, waiting to see what she would do. 

"What's this?" she repeated when she had their attention. 

"We're just swimming, Miss Jellicoe," Marsha answered. 

"That I can see. Well, get out of there. I want the girls over there and the 
boys over here." 

"We can't, Miss Jellicoe," Barbara said timidly. 

To show she understood the situation without actually saying she did, Miss 
Jellicoe picked up a few stray bathing suits, looked at them and tossed them 
back down. "Oh, yes you can," she said in a no-nonsense mood. "Now, get out 
of there." 

Slowly, reluctantly, first a few hardy souls and then the whole gang got 
out, drippingly naked, and went to where they'd been told to go-the girls in 
one line, the boys in another. The girls were braver than the boys in one 
respect. Without exception, they stood with their arms at their sides. There 
were tall girls and short girls, so their dark patches went up and down 
along 

The boys, on the other hand, with only one exception, tried to cover what 
they had, though without much success. The one exception was Jeffrey. Having 
began the evening as the shyest of the group, he was now the most unabashed, 
and exulted in the nakedness around him as well as his own. So he stood with 
his hands at his sides, and everyone could see there was something upright 
and straight-forward about him. 

Miss Jellicoe walked along the line of girls and made a mental note of their 
names. "Barbara, Susan, Marsha, Veronica, and Helen. Well, have you girls 
been enjoying yourselves?" 

"Yes, very much," Marsha said without embarrassment. 

Miss Jellicoe had to suppress a smile. It would not do for them to know that 
she considered it all an amusing and harmless escapade. They would have to 
think of her as a stern, forbidding old maid (she was actually a very 
attractive young woman, a little short of thirty) so she suppressed the 
smile and spoke sternly, "Now, you girls go get dressed." 

They scampered away, and Miss Jellicoe went over to the boys. "Who are you 
boys?" she asked the whole gang. 

"We're from Hilltop High," Jeffrey said. "We were invited here for the 
weekend to look the school over." 

"I see," Miss Jellicoe said. "And have you enjoyed the view?" She betrayed 
no hint of humor in her eye, but a few of the boys felt they had to suppress 
a laugh. 

"Gosh, yes," one boy said. 

Another said. "The best yet!" 

"You!" she said to one boy. "I suppose you're a football player." 

He was a husky bruiser and could hardly have been anything else. "Yes, 
ma'am," he mumbled. 

"Well, I guess we can use you. Go get dressed, and I hope we see you next 
September." 

Now a big grin spread across his face. "Gosh, I hope so," he gushed, and 
then ran to the dressing room. 

"And you?" she said to the next boy. 

"Basketball." 

"We'll see. Well, go get dressed and come back next September." 

"I hope so," he yelled louder than was necessary in his enthusiasm. 

"And you," she asked the third boy. "Football." 

"You too. Get dressed and be here next September." 

"Gosh, I will!" he too yelled. "And you." 

"Football too." 

"Three football players. Well, we might have a team next year if you all 
showup. Go get dressed." 

"Gosh, thanks," he said, not knowing what else to say, and he scampered 
away. 

Miss Jellicoe stood before brave Jeffrey. "Tennis," he said. 

"I didn't ask," she retorted. 

Jeffrey almost thought he saw a glint of sly humor in her eyes, and didn't 
know what to make of it. Then she turned on her heel, said. "Follow me," and 
went down to the other end of the pool, and through a door Jeffrey hadn't 
noticed before. He dutifully followed. 

She walked along a corridor, up a flight of stairs, along a carpeted 
corridor now, across a large room, along another carpeted corridor, to a 
door which she unlocked. Then she locked it again when they had both stepped 
through the doorway into a dark room. But if 

Jeffrey had exulted in nakedness when among a group of ten naked people and 
one clothed woman, he didn't feel so comfortable standing stark naked in 
front of this one clothed woman now. And besides, he was cold. 

She noticed him shivering, and in the dim moonlight, she got a towel from a 
bottom drawer in her desk, came over and rubbed him dry. 

"Feel better?" she asked softly. 

"Yes, much better," he whispered. He didn't know she had spoken softly 
because it was a tender moment for her, not because she was afraid of being 
overheard. 

He wondered where on earth his clothes were, how he would ever find his way 
back to them, and what the woman had in mind, torturing him like this. He 
was just about to ask her if he could go get his clothes when he saw what 
was on her mind. 

His eyes had gotten better accustomed to the dark, and there in the 
moonlight that seemed almost bright now, she was unhurriedly taking off her 
clothes. First she kicked off her shoes. Then her one-piece dress came up 
over her head, and she was standing in a half-slip and brassiere. 

Jeffrey didn't know exactly what he was supposed to do, whether he should 
help her, or stop her, or what, but while he was wondering, she stepped out 
of her half-slip-and then, without breaking her pace, without any coyness or 
"look at me" posturing, she unhooked her brassiere and let it slide off her 
arms. 

Her breasts glistened white and smooth in the moonlight, fuller breasts than 
most of the girls at the pool' had showed, but not sagging, and somehow 
seeming to point at him. They were beautiful, and Jeffrey felt his foremost 
part grow another inch. 

Then, still with her air of unconcern, she pulled her panties down, let them 
drop to the floor, and stepped out of them. Jeffrey felt himself grow 
another inch. It was all so beautiful. 

Down at the pool it had been delightful and even exhilarating, but somehow 
it had been a little impersonal with ten people running around naked. Now he 
was alone with one woman, and she had no fear of his nakedness before her, 
nor of her own before him. What's more, she was a full-grown, mature woman, 
and she had taken off her clothes with such beautiful style-without hurry or 
haste, without reluctance or coyness or pride or shame-that now it seemed 
the most natural thing in the world for this woman to have invited him to 
her office and taken off her clothes. He suddenly realized he was grinning 
from ear to ear, it was all so wonderful. 

"Let's-sit over here," she said. 

So they sat on her scruffy couch by the window, two white bodies glistening 
in the moonlight, two dark patches cutting a triangular pattern in the 
center of the whiteness, so alike were they, and yet so different. She 
didn't have a telephone pole looming out of hers, and that was the whole 
point of their sitting side by side, wasn't it? 

"You may put your arms around me," she said softly. 

Jeffrey put one arm behind her and ran the other across her belly. She 
lifted this arm so that his hand rested gently on one of her breasts, and 
Jeffrey had a greater surprise than any other he had had yet. had on that 
evening full of surprises. He had known she was naked, he had even seen her 
take off her clothes. Yet, it hadn't seemed altogether real until he had 
touched her bare flesh, had slid his hand over the soft smooth skin of her 
breast, had felt the nipple bump against the heel of his hand. 

And now the reality of this woman hit him with something of a shock, but an 
exhilarating shock. He felt lifted up. Here this woman (And how beautiful 
she was appeared to him!) sat unconcernedly naked beside him, and it was all 
true-girls were beautiful, and they did like boys, and he just felt as if he 
was going to float up to the ceiling! 

She looked at him so tenderly, even lovingly, that he got bolder, and ran 
his hand down over her abdomen, over the smooth lower belly until he touched 
her fur-piece. Ah, that too is real, he thought to himself, for he hadn't 
quite believed in "that too" until he had touched it. And now, as he ran his 
fingers gently through the soft fur, it all seemed so wonderful that. 
Suddenly it was all too wonderful, and he backed away from her. 

"What's the matter?" Miss Jellicoe asked, alarmed. 

"I don't know. I'm ... just afraid." 

"Afraid. Of me?" 

"No. Afraid ... something's going to happen." 

She understood immediately, and got up and fetched a towel. "All right?" 

Jeffrey relaxed. "All right." 

He put his arms around her again, and pulled her close, and now he felt the 
soft touch of her hand on his body, and a new delight shot through him. She 
ran her hand lightly over his chest, his belly, and then ... It was a good 
thing he had the towel, because when she touched his telephone pole, 
something did happen. 

Jeffrey felt himself carried up to a never-never land where everything was 
just right, where people were all beautiful and loved each other, everything 
felt good, bright colors danced before his eyes, everything was perfect, and 
he heard himself shout out for the pure joy of it. 

Gradually, slowly, as if he were making his way through cotton candy, he 
came back to earth and realized-where he was, saw the woman beside him 
looking tenderly at him, looking at the towel on his lap. "I feel ashamed," 
he said. 

"Why should you feel ashamed?" she asked with a touch of anger. 

"I don't know. I just do." 

"What do they teach you people, that a young, healthy boy should feel 
ashamed for what is as natural as winter and summer? Come." She took his 
hand, tossed the towel in a corner, and led him to her private shower. 

She soaped him all over, then had him do the same to her, and then they 
rinsed each other off. She rubbed him briskly with a towel, then he did the 
same to her. He was learning. When he dried her breasts, he stood behind her 
and rubbed them with both hands, feeling the firm, movable flesh under the 
towel. He kneaded her breasts, lifted them, let them down, then slipped a 
hand under the towel, while Miss Jellicoe only purred and leaned back 
against him. 

When they were done drying each other, he stood erect before her. "I didn't 
think it would happen again tonight," he said wonderingly. 

"You're not a sixty-year-old man. Come on." 

She took his hand and they went into the moonlit room again, only now they 
lay down on the couch, and Jeffrey could feel her body along the whole 
length of his. Then she was squirming around, pulling him on top of her. He 
resisted at first, because it didn't seem logical that the bigger person 
should be on top. But she had a stronger will right then, and he found 
himself on top, being pulled toward her, pulled toward that quivering pink 
flesh, pulled toward a delight that already made him tingle. Then his rigid 
pole was absorbed by her body, and it was wonderful. 

It felt so warm and cushy In there, he could only believe that, that was the 
way it should be, that was where it should stay all night. And now it 
suddenly seemed right that he was on top, for he felt so light and airy, he 
was certain he didn't weigh so much as a feather, and the woman didn't seem 
to be conscious of any weight. 

She was squirming and groaning beneath him, her eyes half-closed, a smile on 
her lips. All of a sudden she clasped Jeffrey tightly against her and let 
out several loud exclamations. "Uh! Uh! OH!" Then she relaxed, slowly let go 
of him, and lay back. 

"Are you all right?" Jeffrey asked solicitously. 

Miss Jellicoe laughed. "Yes, my dear child. I am quite all right. Don't you 
know what happened?' 

"I-I'm not sure." 

"You gave me the greatest joy a man can give a woman. You're a good lover." 

"Who, me?" 

"Yes, you!" she whispered in his ear. Then, drawing him close to her, she 
rocked him gently until she could feel his lithe body squirming with 
delights. 

Then he let out a loud "OH!" and collapsed. 

Miss Jellicoe sneaked down and got Jeffrey's-clothes and brought them back. 
He sat limp on the edge of the couch and could hardly muster the energy to 
put on his undershorts. 

"I'm all tuckered out," he sighed. 

Miss Jellicoe sat beside him, smoothed the hair back from his forehead and 
said softly, "I think you'll recover." Then a thought occurred to her. "You 
know, I don't even know your name, and you don't even know mine." 

"I'm Jeffrey. And you?" 

"Call me Jane. Unless ... " 

"Unless what?" 

"Do you think you'll be coming to MacIntosh U. next September?" 

"Gosh, I hope so." 

"Then you'll have to call me Miss Jellicoe if you ever see me on campus." 

"Okay, Jane Jellicoe. I'll remember." 

"And when you come back next September, will you come and see me?" 

"Gosh, yes, if you want me to." 

"Yes," she said. She brushed back his hair again and took his head and drew 
it toward her. "I want you to." Then she gave him a kiss that made his head 
spin. 

Miss Jellicoe wasn't the only one who had singled Jeffrey out that night. 
One of the girls spent a sleepless time of it, tossing and turning in her 
bed. 

The image of Jeffrey's innocent, gentle face haunted her. She didn't know 
that Jeffrey had lost his innocence that night, and she saw him as the type 
of boy who would only want a "nice" girl. Had she queered the deal? she 
wondered. Had she queered the deal by running around in her birthday suit 
just like all other girls ? Would he think her a shameless broad, beneath 
him ?Or would he have a more sophisticated outlook? After all, he had 
enjoyed himself at the time. Better still, he might forget what she looked 
like by the time school opened next September, and she could get a fresh 
start with him. But then, too, he might go to another college. That thought 
made Susan sit bolt upright in bed, and she could only reason with herself 
to lie back down and try to get some sleep. 

At last, toward dawn, sleep took over and mercifully relieved her of her 
anxieties. 

 4 

THE FOLLOWING SEPTEMBER, MacIntosh U. enrolled some pretty good pickings 
from the surrounding high schools. They got no fewer than five of the 
first-string all-state football team-which was phenomenal, considering the 
number of colleges in the state, not to mention those in surrounding states. 
And they did just about as well with basketball and baseball players. 

There was some grumbling around the state at this, for it seemed clear to 
everybody that MacIntosh U., which had always stood for an honest, 
no-subsidy policy, had suddenly reversed its position, and many would sooner 
had seen the Rock of Gibraltar fall. Indeed, the grumbling was so widespread 
that the president of MacIntosh U. himself was disturbed and decided to look 
into the matter. 

George Wheelock, a handsome bachelor just turned forty, paced that carpet 
behind his desk, looked out the window occasionally at the students 
crisscrossing the campus, then turned to the three innocent-looking men 
before him-Coach Bradley, accompanied by 

Murph and Big Ben. 

"Chief, I don't understand it any better than you do," Bradley shrugged with 
open hands. "I guess it's just one of those things." 

Wheelock tapped a pencil against his lips. "It just doesn't make sense to 
me." 

"Nor to me either, chief," Bradley said innocently. "So why don't we just 
accept it and rejoice in it, and not ask questions ? " 

But Wheelock wasn't to be put off so easily. "There are really only two 
reasons why kids will flock to one school or another. Either the college has 
a tremendous reputation for fielding winning teams, or it offers a nice, fat 
subsidy. Now, I don't think anybody here's going to say MacIntosh U. has a 
tremendous reputation for turning out winning teams." 

The three coaches laughed softly. "No," Big Ben said. "We're not going to 
say that." 

"So that leaves us with the question of a subsidy." Wheelock said sternly. 
"I want to know how much you're giving these guys." 

"Chief, where the devil would we get the money?" Bradley asked. "Out of my 
salary? I couldn't subsidize a washerwoman on that!" 

"Hmmm." Wheelock stroked his chin. "Well, you could have diverted a slice of 
last year's gate receipts-oh, not intending to do anything dishonest of 
course. But you might have felt it would all be paid back with better crowds 
this year, hmm?" 

"We don't even touch any of that money, chief, you know that. Besides, 
ticket sales were so bad last year, we were thinking of asking the 
government for assistance under the poverty program." 

"Well, how do you account for it, then?" 

Bradley shrugged his shoulders. "Luck, I guess." 

"Yeah, luck I guess." Big Ben said, grinning, and Murph grinned too. 

"All right," Wheelock said sharply. "I suppose you're telling the truth. But 
if I ever find there's been any shady business, Bradley, out you go on your 
ear. And out go all the players who have been enticed by your shady deal. Do 
you understand?" 

"Sure, chief. But I assure you, I have nothing to worry about." 

It was Friday night, the night before the first big game, with Walkover 
College. They hadn't beaten Walkover for five years now, and normally they 
would have as glum as they had been all through the last season. But with 
new blood on the team, and a hint of trickery up Bradley's sleeve, there was 
a thrill of enthusiasm around the campus. 

And indeed, Bradley did have tricks up his sleeve. The girls who had enticed 
the boys to the school in the first place had gotten the spirit of the 
thing, and now, the night before the game, they were going to carry on 
through, get the boys aroused, rip-roarin' ready to go. "On Friday night, 
only arouse them," Bradley had instructed them. "Saturday night, you're on 
your own." 

Now they were on the second floor of the student union, and were going to 
present a show for the boys. They had draped a sheet across the middle of 
the room, ranged the boys in seats on one side of it, then went to undress 
on the other. 

The boys at first thought they'd have a long, dull wait for the floor show, 
but they immediately began perking up and nudging their neighbors. It seemed 
that the girls were clearly silhouetted against the sheet, and now the boys 
watched the shadows of .two girls kick off their shoes, wriggle out of their 
dresses, drop their half slips and step out of them. A murmur of delight 
rippled throughout them, and there wasn't a boy without a big grin, as they 
pictured the two girls in the skimpiest of garments. 

Then there was a gasp of delight when first one girl and then the other 
unhooked her brassiere and let it slide off, and the nipples of one were 
outlined clearly against the sheet. Then, when the girls dropped their 
panties and stepped daintily out of them, the boys let loose with cheers and 
yells and clapping. One boy sat with his mouth hanging open, saying over and 
over, "My God, my God." The thought of those girls standing stark naked with 
only a sheet between them and him was almost too much for him-and for the 
other boys, too. 

Now two more girls came up near the sheet and-likewise undressed while the 
boys grinned, yelled, and whistled, keeping their eyes glued to the 
silhouettes. When the girls were completely undraped, one stood in profile 
against the sheet and ran her hands up over her body and onto her breasts, 
cupping them, rubbing them, stroking them until the boys nearly went mad 
from the enticement. 

If the boys had been inclined to figure things out-which they weren't-they 
might have reasoned that there was no real need for the girls to undress in 
pairs up close to the sheet. They might also have asked why there were 
special lights on the floor behind the girls, throwing the stark shadows 
onto the sheet. One who had made these observations might have concluded 
that the girls had deliberately prepared things to give precisely that 
effect-as indeed they had, having spent several hours that afternoon 
determining just where to place the lights, how close to stand to the sheet, 
and finding out that the closer they got, the starker the outline. 

But the boys would have been less boys if they had sat there 'wondering 
about that. And now, having shown the boys just what they weren't wearing, 
the girls got into their costumes and showed just what they were 
wearing-which wasn't much. 

One girl, Helen, wrapped a sheet around herself, twisting twice around while 
another girl held one end. Veronica, a big, strapping blonde, with enormous 
tits, got into a silk chemise. She was going to entertain the boys by 
shaking those mountains of flesh under that thin, loose fabric. Susan got 
into a miniskirt that came halfway up her thighs, and with her slim, smooth 
legs, that outfit was especially becoming. One girl had cut a hole in a 
sheet, and now, sticking her head in the hole, she. wore it like a poncho. 
At last they were all ready and came out to begin the show. 

First Veronica sang a song. It was an innocuous song, leading the boys to 
think that the fun was over and that the girls would now give a floor show 
of songs and skits, and they would clap politely and then go home. But the 
big girl in the chemise didn't leave them relaxed for long. 

After only a few bars, she began swaying her body, and soon she was shaking 
it-and at her size, that body was something to shake. As she swayed her body 
back and forth, the firm breasts seemed to jump with a life of their own 
under the thin silk chemise; they had a pulsating, throbbing quality that 
made the boys want to reach out and catch them, as one might grab for a 
frisky kitten. The boys sat bug-eyed, envying the girl for having a talent 
they could in no way imitate. And how she delighted in shaking that big 
body, how she delighted in giving those boys an eyeful. 

Now she sauntered over to one boy and stood right before him. Indeed, she 
brought her breasts to within two inches of his face, and he pulled back as 
if afraid of being slapped, making all the boys laugh. She ran her hands 
lightly over his head, then down his arms to his hands, which she pulled up, 
drawing his fingertips along the sides of her breasts, then backing away 
while the boy looked at his fingertips and touched each one with his thumbs. 

The other boys would have begun to get jealous a-bout this time, except the 
other girls began doing their stuff. Susan came forth, hiked her skirt 
another few inches up her thighs, and did a high-stepping dance. If the boys 
had seen her on a beach, they would have seen even more leg without ever 
giving it a second thought but now they were extraordinarily entranced by 
the sight of those flashing legs and the skirt inching up her thighs. 

One boy got down on his hands and knees and went "Woof! Woof!" and crawled 
toward her, looking up, expecting her to back away in mock anger. But she 
just laughed and kicked a leg over his head, causing all the boys to yell 
out. So she kicked her leg over his head again. Then, walking away, wiggling 
her tail, she pulled her skirt up over her rounded buttocks, her sheer 
panties leaving no doubt about what was underneath. 

Helen, in her sheet, asked a boy to hold one end. Then she spun out almost 
to the end, stopping short and came back. The' boys set up a clamor, 
yelling, "All the way! All the way!" 

But Helen had a condition: "I want you to look that way," she said to the 
boy holding one end, pointing straight ahead of him. "And another boy here," 
she said, pointing about six feet away. A boy leaped up eagerly, not knowing 
the condition about to be imposed on him. "Now, you've got to look that way 
too, as it you were a block of wood. If one of you looks back, that's all 
for tonight. And what will your buddies say?" the girl added, wagging a 
finger. 

Now, with the two boys abiding by her instructions, Helen spun out to the 
end of the sheet and gave the newly released end to the new boy, and there 
she stood, stark naked behind the sheet with her two sentinels standing 
tall, looking straight ahead, holding the cloth between them. 

Now she did a dance of her own, moving from one end of the sheet to the 
other, occasionally going one step further, stepping behind a boy and 
kicking up a leg. The cloth just covered from her breasts to the middle of 
her thighs, so when she leaped up and did a scissors kick, she gave a flash 
of her body to the waist, and the boys would cheer. Then she knelt, throwing 
an arm loosely, modestly, across her fuzzy-wuzzy. The boys seemed to like 
that, so she stood, threw her other arm across in the same way and knelt 
again. 

Then she ran to one boy and grabbed him by the shoulders and, holding on, 
threw her whole body out and back. It was a lovely flash of white legs, dark 
patch and white body-and then no more. 

"Okay, boys," she said to her sentinels. "You can turn around now and wrap 
me up." 

She stood with her hands on top of her head, waiting for the boys to comply, 
but they seemed strangely disoriented. "Here, Roy, you go this way, and ... 
" 

"No, let me go this way, so-no, I think it'd be better if you went-now, let 
me see." 

Somehow, after some stalling around, the boys were able to get the undraped 
girl properly draped. After patting everything into place and tucking the 
loose ends securely above her boobs, they had to admit that they were 
finished, and went to sit down. 

And now the girls moved in for the piece de resistance. Veronica pulled one 
boy to his feet and stood with her back to him, taking his hands and 
pressing them against her belly. He could feel her warm flesh through the 
thin silk, and moved his hands about a bit. 

"Do you like my tummy?" she asked. 

"Gosh, yeah. It's warm." 

"And what position do you play?" 

"Halfback." 

"How many touchdowns are you going to score tomorrow?" 

"I dunno. A couple, I hope." 

"Just a couple?" 

"Well, more if you want." 

"I want more. And for every touchdown ... " She took his hands. "Let 'em 
loose," she said. "Just relax them." Then, when his hands were relaxed and 
she could move them where she wanted, she drew them lightly over those 
outstanding breasts and said, "And for every touchdown, this is for you." 
With that, she pressed his hands firmly against her tits, then quickly broke 
away. The boy stood there with a glassy stare, looking at his hands. Then a 
big grin spread over his face. 

Susan went over to a husky bruiser and, taking his hand, put it on the 
inside of her thigh. "You may move your hand up three inches," she said, and 
he bashfully complied. "How does it feel?" 

"Gosh, smooth." 

"And what position do you play." 

"I'm just a tackle." 

"Just a tackle? Aren't they as important as anybody else on the team?" 

"Well, yeah, I guess so, in a way." 

"You may move your hand up another two inches." She stood looking .tenderly 
at him. Even though he was a big bruiser, he had a certain bashful 
boyishness about him that she found very appealing. When he had complied, 
she said, "And now, two more inches." 

"Two more?" 

"That's what I said." 

The poor fellow didn't see how he could move his hand up two more inches 
without coming into contact with her crotch, so he tried half of what she'd 
allowed him. 

"One more inch," she said. 

The shy guy scratched his head with his free hand, then tried one more inch, 
and by George, he was sure he could feel more than skin with his fingertips. 

"How many tackles are you going to make tomorrow?" 

"A lot, I hope." 

"I hope so. And for every tackle you make, you may move your hand up five 
more inches." Then she slipped his hand out and moved away, more to the 
relief than the disappointment of the husky fellow. Still, his fingers 
tingled, and he could just see himself upsetting runner after runner. 

Marsha was dressed in a poncho-like affair, with slits in the sides. Now she 
went up to one boy and pulled his hand through one slit and pressed it 
against her belly. 

"What do you feel?" 

"Skin," he said, smiling. 

"You may move your hand down a little." He moved it down two inches. "And up 
a little." He moved it up four inches. "And down a little more." He moved it 
down two inches beyond where he had been. "And up a little more." Now he 
moved his hand up two inches above where it had been, and one of her breasts 
rested against his thumb. She pulled her other hand in through the other 
slit and rested it on his. 

"What position do you play?" 

"Quarterback." 

"Oh, you're the brains of the team? And how many touchdown plays are you 
going to call." 

"Oh, fifteen, I guess." 

"Well, at least you're not backward about your abilities. Okay, fifteen it 
is, or as near as you can make it. And for every touchdown play you call-she 
moved his hand over her bare breast, lightly. The boy sighed and grinned. 

"For every touchdown play you call-" 

Again she moved his hand lightly over her tits, letting her nipples scrape 
his palms, and again the boy sighed. 

And now the girl finished off in earnest. "For every touchdown play you 
call," she said for the third time, now pressing his hand firmly against her 
left titty, "you can have this." Then she slipped away from him, and he was 
left with a big grin, a tingling palm, and a bulge where he wished there was 
no bulge. 

The girls took care of all the boys. Oh, each girl couldn't visit each boy, 
but they visited a good many, and each boy had at least two or three girls 
come visit him, and leave him grinning. 

Then the girls said they would have to get dressed and go home-and would the 
boys wait and escort them? And how, they would! So again the girls went 
behind the sheet, undressed and dressed before the light that drew their 
shadows onto the sheet, while the boys watched. 

Only now the boys were quiet and subdued. Their hands tingled, down to the 
fingertips, and their minds weren't on the sight before them so much as on 
what they had just felt-all the girls were so warm-and what they were going 
to do the next day. 

 5 

THE BOYS SEEMED ABNORMALLY PEPPED UP the next day. In the first quarter, 
Lightbulb threw Charlie two touchdown passes, and Truckdriver (who hadn't 
even been at the entertainment the night before) plowed through a mass of 
bodies for a third. The second quarter was much the same thing. Freddie took 
a handout from Lightbulb and streaked down the sideline for an 85-yard run. 
Not five minutes later, Truckdriver plowed over for another touchdown. 

In the meantime, the other team was completely stymied. Let a player shake 
loose and make a run for it, and one of the red-and-white uniforms of 
MacIntosh U. would be seen streaking across the field twice as fast. Let an 
end prepare to catch a perfect pass down-field, and from out of nowhere came 
a red-and-white player to knock the ball down-or, in two cases, to 
intercept. 

The result was a halftime score of 35-0-and it was a happy bunch of 
MacIntosh U. boys that rested during the half. Smiles would suddenly break 
out on their faces, only to be suppressed, for they didn't want to change 
their luck by being too sure of themselves. 

But it wasn't just luck. The second half was more of the same, the 
red-and-whites leaping up to snare passes, dashing down the sidelines, or 
plunging through the whole opposition for a touchdown, flashing out of 
nowhere to make tackles. The home side stands went wild, the fans leaping up 
and yelling at each skilled play. There were few who could speak without 
hoarseness by the end of the evening. 

When the final gun sounded, the fans went wild with yelling, screaming and 
back-slapping, and the players hoisted Coach Bradley up on their shoulders 
and carried him around the field. In the locker room, after they had set him 
down, they sang For He's a Jolly Good Fellow, and told him what a great 
coach he was. In general, there was good feeling such as had not pervaded 
the locker room after a game in many a year. 

Then Wheelock himself came down, congratulated the boys, patted some on the 
back, shook hands with others. "It's a great day for MacIntosh U., " he said 
enthusiastically. "I guess they're going to hear from us this season." 

The boys sent up a cheer to the rafters and said, "You know it." 

"And how," and a bunch of other dumb-sounding bullshit that coaches and 
presidents like to hear. 

Then Wheelock took his leave with a big smile on his face. But though the 
smile was real, though he did feel happy that they had won, there was 
something troubling him in the back of his mind. He reached back there and 
pulled it out, so he could see it. Yes, it was understandable that the team 
should finally win a game after a losing streak of 32 games. But 67-0? 
Wheelock felt he would have to look into the matter. 

The girls were as good as their promises the following night. Only now there 
were more girls, more of the football team-and they were at Coach Bradley's 
farmhouse fifteen miles out of town, where there was no chance of their 
being inadvertently disturbed. 

Some of the girls started the festivities off early by plopping down on the 
boys' laps and giving them sound smackings right on the lips. These 
triumphant boys weren't shy any more, so they smacked the girls right back. 

"Okay, girls." 

"Veronica yelled. "Let's get this show on the road. We've got some 
entertainment, boys, and if it isn't good enough, just let us know. We'll 
make it bet-ter-r-r." 

Now the girls lined up along one side and the boys sprawled along the 
couches and chairs that had been placed along the other side. "The first 
thing we have," Veronica announced, "is a quiz-tease. We ask the questions, 
and if you know the right answer, you may relieve a girl of an article of 
clothing of her own choosing. Now Susan, you said you'd begin." 

"Okay, who was George Washington's vice-president?" 

"John Adams," someone yelled. 

"You win the left shoe," Susan said, holding her left foot out. The boy 
knelt on the floor and pulled her shoe off gently. 

"What battle was Napoleon's Waterloo?" a second girl asked. 

"Waterloo!" a quick-witted boy answered. 

The girl said he could take off her scarf. 

For a while it was pretty innocuous-though no one was bored. Then Veronica 
(who was without shoes now, but had a scarf, not to mention a cardigan 
sweater) held out her left leg and said, "My stocking." 

It was a minor coup. She had picked Lightbulb, a shy lad to begin with, and 
he didn't know the first thing about undoing a lady's stocking. The result 
was that he fumbled around, looking shy and embarrassed, while his buddies 
whooped and hollered. Even though Lightbulb had been there the night before 
and had been given all sorts of promises if he called touchdown plays (and 
that he did), he still found it terribly embarrassing to try to remove this 
flimsy garment. What's more, he suddenly became aware of the beauty of that 
strong, firm leg, and how close his fingers were to her pussy. Well, it was 
becoming too much for him, and he felt himself sweating. 

At last he got the button-like hooks undone and rolled the stocking down the 
length of that tapered and shapely leg. Then he suddenly realized that he 
couldn't stand up, because of his pecker standing up, and so he scooted 
backward to his chair, among the jeers and cat-calls of those who 
understood. 

The other girls were looking with baleful and envious eyes on all this. None 
of them had worn stockings, and indeed, Veronica would not normally have 
worn them, except that she'd thought up the game and had already envisioned 
this. So now they started asking ridiculously easy questions: Who was 
Eisenhower's vice-president? What country started the Second World War? 

And the boys made a regular march up to the girls gathering sweaters, 
skirts, and half-slips, until the girls all stood in their skimpiest 
garments, and now the questions began to get harder. 

"Who won the Battle of Waterloo?" Susan asked. 

Out of nowhere, without even knowing that he knew it, Charlie yelled. "The 
Duke of Wellington." And so he became the first man that evening to unhook a 
brassiere. 

"Easy, now," Susan said. "We have a rule tonight that nothing is to show. So 
not too fast. Now unhook if and hold on, attaboy, now wait a minute." Susan 
slipped her hands up under the bra cups and said, "All right, now you can 
take it off." 

But Charlie found he couldn't take it off as long as Susan kept her hands 
there, and she couldn't draw them away, according to the rules. So she put 
one hand across her boobies and let the other hang down, but the 'brassiere 
had to be edged along the covering arm with great care until it could be 
worked free and slipped off the other arm, and Charlie could return to his 
chair with his trophy. 

Barbara and Helen both went through the same difficulties with their 
respective boys, but Veronica came up with a novel solution. 

"Who lived first, Beethoven or Mozart?" she asked. 

Now, the boys knew nothing about musicians, and the first answer was 
Beethoven, but when Veronica said no, Lightbulb had the presence of mind to 
say, "Mozart," and he was rewarded with the pleasure of unhooking voluptuous 
Veronica's surprisingly flimsy brassiere. 

"Stay there," she commanded, after he had done the unhooking. "Now put your 
hands on my belly." When he had done so, she took his left hand, slipped it 
under the bra and secured it firmly to her left breast. Then she did the 
same with his right hand on her right breast. 

"Now remember, don't let anything show," she commanded, "or the girls will 
make me pay a penalty." 

"Hey, that's not fair!" Helen protested. Veronica looked innocently 
surprised. "Why not? 

You said that nothing was to show, not that nothing was to be felt." 

"She's right," Barbara defended her, and Veronica smiled at her victory. 

So while Lightbulb held those astonishing breasts and allowed Veronica to 
abide by the rules, she casually let the brassiere slide off and folded it 
up into a nice, neat triangle saying, "Here, you keep this." She reached 
behind to stuff it in one of Lightbulb's pockets, but he danced this way and 
that to keep her from reaching his pocket, and she asked, "What's the 
matter?" 

"I don't know," he wailed. Normally there would have been few things more 
delightful to Lightbulb than feeling the magnificence of those pulsating 
boobies in his hands, but now the situation was actually painful to him, and 
he felt himself a prisoner-not under the worst conditions imaginable, to be 
sure, but a prisoner nevertheless. He couldn't take his hands away because 
of his promise, and now he was bulging where he didn't want to bulge, and 
the girls were beginning to titter, and he had no way to cover his 
embarrassment, which led him to dance this way and that. It was painful to 
him. 

"What's the matter, Lightbulb?" Veronica asked. 

"I don't know. I mean, aren't you done yet?" 

Veronica had put her hands up and was patting her hair in place, and now, 
with elbows akimbo, she clasped her hands behind her neck and looked at the 
boys who were looking hungrily and enviously at the scene before them, while 
at the same time they didn't exactly want to be dancing like Lightbulb. At 
last she took pity on him, put her hands over his and said, "Okay, you can 
go now." 

Lightbulb danced his Way back to his chair bent over, sat down and crossed 
his arms Over his lap. His buddies guffawed. 

"Now the final round," Marsha said. "What year did the First World War 
begin?" 

"Nineteen-fourteen," Freddie yelled, and he had the honor of being the first 
to draw off a girl's final remaining garment. 

Marsha was around-faced brunette with bright blue eyes, and now she had a 
particularly radiant gleam in her eyes, as she said, "Okay, Freddie. You 
win. My last piece of clothing. And nothing must show, remember?" 

Freddie came up, looked at the white lace briefs and scratched his head. 
"Nothing?" he asked. 

The girls laughed, then Marsha told him, "See that box over there? Get me an 
apron from it." 

The girls had made aprons for themselves, and now Freddie came back with 
one. If it had been a nice long apron, it would have been a simple enough 
matter to tie it around Marsha's waist and slip off her panties. But the 
aprons were rather skimpy, consisting of a strip of cloth and two flaps, and 
the front flap was only about six inches long and six inches wide. 

So it wasn't such an easy matter. Freddie held the garment with one hand and 
scratched his head with the other, "I can't help you," Marsha warned, 
"because my hands are tied." 

"Yeah, I know," he said unhappily. 

"But I can tell you what to do. First roll the panties down a little." 

"Roll them down?" 

"That's what I said. A little further," she said when he had gingerly 
complied. "Now tie the apron-attaboy!" 

He got the idea and tied the apron just above the panty line. But it was 
still too far above Marsha's moss, so he had to roll the panties down a 
little further, then slip the apron down too. 

"Easy now," Marsha warned when he came to the critical spot. 
"Nothing-absolutely nothing-must show." 

Freddie was working on it. Now he was kneeling on the floor with his tongue 
sticking out of one corner of his mouth. His problem was complicated by the 
fact that both the apron and the panties were made of lacy white cloth, and 
his head was swimming so that he couldn't tell one from the other. But with 
everything so white, at least he would know immediately if he failed. 

Now he was working on a one-inch basis, moving the panties down an inch over 
the belly, then around in back, over the buns. Then he was working on a 
half-inch basis, a little more here, a little more there, until finally the 
apron seemed to cover everything. He pulled the panties down, and Marsha 
stepped out of them. 

"Nicely done," Marsha said, and the boys gave him a cheer. 

Freddie heaved a sigh of relief and started back for his chair. 

"But you're not finished yet," Marsha said. "See that other box? There are 
other aprons-for the top. You've got to tie mine on." 

Freddie got one of the different types of aprons, a strip of ruffles, and 
started to tie it around her boobies. But her hands were in the way, so he 
went this way and that, trying to slip it in, under, around, until she 
finally said, "Ah, hell, let's try Veronica's solution. Stand behind me and 
put your hands on mine." When he had done so, she said, "Now hold them 
steady." She slipped her hands out, pressed on his lightly, and then she was 
free to tie her second apron on without difficulty. 

The other boys came up in turn-some shy, some bold, some cracking jokes, 
some quiet, some at ease, some working hard with sweat on their brows, until 
all the girls were similarly clad, and the floor show began. 

First there were some dance numbers, and if the garments were not really big 
enough to cover everything as the girls hopped around, well, no one was 
complaining. Veronica did a particularly intriguing number. Starting out 
crouched on the floor, she wriggled her rear end about and slowly rose up in 
time to the music, and rising the way she did from a crouch, it seemed for a 
moment, as if she would rise all the way to the ceiling. There was so much 
of her, so much flesh, that suddenly she was the Earth Goddess to these 
boys, and they all loved her. 

And it was Veronica who took the first big step. Deciding that the boys had 
had enough teasing, she grabbed Lightbulb by the hand and said, "Come on, I 
want you to huddle with me." She led him by the hand to the stairway. 

The girls had reconnoitered the house before, noting the dens and cubbyholes 
that might be suitable for whatever they wanted to do. Now Veronica pounded 
up two flights of stairs to the attic, where there was a musty smell-and an 
old cot that she had already tested and found sturdy. 

They sat in the moonlight, holding hands, catching their breath from their 
climbing exertions. At last Lightbulb said, "Aren't you cold?" For of course 
Veronica had only, those two flimsy garments for the length of that long 
body. 

"Yes, a little." Veronica admitted. 

"Well, you can have my sweater," Lightbulb said, taking it off. 

Veronica smiled to herself. Well, he wasn't going to be overly aggressive, 
that was for sure. She undid the top apron, tossed it away and put on the 
sweater. Though she was a big girl, Lightbulb was even bigger, of course, 
and the sweater came down far enough to cover her crotch, so she undid the 
lower apron and tossed that aside. Lightbulb swallowed hard. 

"What are you thinking?" she asked softly. For a girl who could belt out 
songs lustily, she had a curious ability to speak softly and gently. 

"I was ... ! was just thinking ... well, I don't know." 

She reached over, ran a hand up his forearm, pulled him a little toward her 
and said, "Gimme a kiss.' 

It was a lousy kiss. Lightbulb was so nervous and scared, he knew it was 
lousy, and he expected her to get up-maybe tactfully, but still get up-and 
go search for another guy. 

"You're shy, aren't you?" she asked. 

"I am?" he questioned back, looking surprised. Then, turning away, he said, 
"Yeah, I guess you could say that. You know, people don't expect it of a 
football player. They think we're rough and touch, that we swagger about and 
just grab girls when we want them. But, no, you're right. And the funny 
thing is, you're the first person I've ever admitted this to. I thought I'd 
be ashamed, and I suddenly find there's nothing in the world to be ashamed 
of." 

"Of course not. Gimme another kiss." 

This one was much better, and Lightbulb felt the warmth of the kiss, the 
warmth of her whole personality flow from her into him. 

She drew back and looked at him. "You're quite some guy." Her hand now 
rested on his, and she said, "Your hand is cold." 

"Really? Yeah, I guess it is." 

"We'll fix that." She slipped his hand up under the sweater and clasped it 
in her armpit. She shivered. "Oooh, that's cold, so it must be warm for 
you." 

"Gosh, yeah it is." 

"And your other hand?" She took that in both hands. "Oooh, that's cold too. 
Into the other armpit with that one." And that hand too was given a nice 
warm resting place. 

In the meantime, the sweater was necessarily pulled up to her waist, or 
rather, above her waist, and all Lightbulb could see in the room was that 
long expanse of white legs and white torso with that tuft of dark blonde 
hair. Then, looking into her eyes, he saw her look back at him boldly, 
unashamedly. 

"You're not afraid, are you?" he asked. 

She smiled. "Maybe it's you who should be afraid of me." 

Lightbulb smiled right back. "Maybe. But I don't mean only that you're not 
afraid of what I might do to you. You're right, I certainly wouldn't do you 
any harm. But I mean, you don't seem to be afraid in any way-you're not 
afraid of what people will say; you're not afraid of what I might say or 
what I might think; you're not afraid of nakedness." 

"Should I be?" 

"Well, it's a funny thing. A week ago, I would have said, 'Yes, you should 
be. People will talk about you, and I might not think you are a nice girl.' 
But now it all seems so natural and wonderful that I want to say, 'No, no, 
never be afraid'. " 

Now her eyes and lips glistened so in the moonlight that she looked 
radiantly beautiful, and for the first time, Lightbulb pulled her to him for 
a kiss. It was not a sizzling kiss, but it was a warm one, full of all the 

-warmth that an Earth Goddess would have, and she seemed to be pulling him 
toward her, enveloping him with her arms, with her lips, and he felt his 
head go in a spin, and funny stars and spirals danced before his eyes. 

When they parted, they looked at each other for a moment, and Lightbulb 
wanted to say, "Veronica, I love you," but he feared it would sound corny. 

She was the one who spoke first. "Here, take this off," she said, 
unbuttoning his shirt. "I want to see what sort of physique you have." And 
when he proved to have a T-shirt, she said, "And this too." When that was 
gone, she sat for a moment, looking at his lean, muscular chest. Not an 
ounce of excess weight on it. "And these too." she said, leaning over and 
untying his shoes. "And your socks. And while you're at it, your trousers." 

Soon he was sitting there in his shorts, grinning at her. "Are you cold?' 
she asked. "A little." 

"Well, we'll just have to keep each other warm. And while we're at it, you 
might as well get rid of these." She pulled down on his shorts. While he was 
completing that task, she flipped off the sweater, and they both sat there 
in the altogether. 

Then they reached out to touch each other, tentatively at first, perhaps 
just to see if the other was really there, and then with the full hand, both 
hands, rubbing squeezing, touching, exploring, pulling each other ever 
closer until they seemed one body of intermingled arms and legs. 

Veronica pulled back. "Are you cold now?" 

Lightbulb laughed. "Gosh no." Now as he looked into her face, radiant with 
the light in her eyes and with that inviting smile, he felt positively 
exhilarated. 

"Veronica, you are absolutely the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." 

"And what will you say of me tomorrow, my lover boy?" 

"I will say then, and again and again, that you are absolutely the most 
beautiful girl I have ever seen." 

Veronica took his head in both her hands, and gave him a kiss that sent the 
blood coursing, that seemed to wipe out the reality of two bodies, and merge 
his into hers. When he came up for air, they were lying down and he was on 
top. 

"Come to me, my lover boy," she whispered. 

"Veronica, I'm scared." 

"You needn't be. It will all be very beautiful." 

"But I don't know what to do." 

"Give me a kiss." 

She held him with that kiss, and he felt himself becoming part of her, his 
pecker being absorbed by her pussy; then they were completely interlocked. 
Still, she was so beautiful, and seemed so unafraid that he wanted to tell 
her how much he loved her. Then suddenly he felt an intense explosion of 
good feeling fill every vein in his body and lift him to a delight he had 
not before been able to imagine. Then he collapsed. 

After taking a few minutes to come back to himself, he asked, "Was I too 
soon?" 

She smiled, kissed him and said, "It's all right. There'll be other times." 
Then she added with a twinkle in her eyes, "If you still think I'm beautiful 
tomorrow." 

"Oh, I will, I will," he protested innocently until she sealed his mouth 
with a kiss. 

"There're a couple of blankets over there," Veronica said. "Would you get 
them? Otherwise we'll get too cold." 

Then when Lightbulb had arranged the blankets, they snuggled underneath and 
fell asleep in each other's arms. 

In the guest room, Susan and Charlie were having their troubles. Susan had 
led Charlie there. Now, Charlie was a tall, rangy end who had caught three 
touchdown passes, and it seemed fitting that the tall, lanky Susan should 
latch onto him, and at first everything went swimmingly. 

Susan, who was studying dancing, did a private dance for Charlie, twisting 
her lithe body into all sorts of contortions, with her hands high above her 
head, she seemed to have an ethereal slimness, seemed particularly 
beautiful, particularly suited to give delight. With that slim waist, the 
smallish, but plump and nicely shaped breasts, those long, slender legs, 
Charlie found her a more beautiful sight than any he had ever seen before. 

Then she pulled him up and said, "Come, dance with me. Don't you hear that 
music? It's in your head." 

Charlie was perfectly willing to hear music in his head. But they had only 
danced a few steps when Susan said, "Take this bulky thing off," and pulled 
his cardigan off. Then she started unbuttoning his shirt and said, "This 
too," and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Then, when he was bare above the 
waist, she flipped off her top apron and pressed herself against him. 

"Isn't that better?" 

"Yeah!" Charlie choked out. Now his breath came short, and he was so 
conscious of this girl pressed against him that he could no longer imagine 
music, and his feet only shuffled along. 

Susan had still further ideas for him. "Take off your shoes and socks and 
feel the cushy rug," she said. 

Charlie did so, and gave an exclamation of delight. 

"And now these," Susan said, tugging at his trou-sers. But when Charlie had 
undone them, Susan hooked her hands inside and pulled on his shorts too, so 
that there was a brief tug of war until Charlie gave in, and there he stood, 
tall, sturdy, erect. Susan turned her side to him and said, "Untie me." 

"Untie?" Charlie asked. There was no reason for him to be in doubt. It was 
the last remaining garment between them, and he might have known he hadn't 
misunderstood. 

"Yes," Susan said softly. 

So Charlie did as directed, and the little apron fell to the floor. They 
stood like Adam and Eve. Then Susan pressed herself against him. 

"Hold me tight," she whispered. "Run your hands over me, make me warm, feel 
me, touch me, make my blood flow, ah, ah, yes, that's right, how good, how 
wonderful," she exulted as Charlie ran his hands over her back, over her 
butt, then up over her belly and breasts. His hands were surprisingly soft 
and gentle, for all their roughness on the gridiron. 

Susan breathed softly in his ear and said, "Sweep me off my feet, pick me 
up, carry me to bed, make love to me, enjoy me, exult in me." Before she 
could even finish her sentence, Charlie had picked her up and was letting 
her down gently on the bed. In a jiffy, they were between the sheets, and 
then trouble-Charlie wilted. 

He couldn't understand what had happened, and tried to will his potency back 
into existence. "Damn!" he expostulated. "It was just there!" 

"Easy," Susan cautioned. "Just take it easy, Charlie." 

"But I don't understand. It was just there." And now he began to get 
frantic, rubbing against her roughly grabbing at her breasts. 

"Charlie!" Susan said sharply, in a no-nonsense tone. She had to stop his 
growing frenzy before it went any further, and if he hadn't listened to 
her,, she would have gotten up and run away. 

But he stopped and looked at her, wondering what she was going to say. 

She said, "Just relax, Charlie. There's no hurry." 

"But I'm afraid you're going to laugh at me. There's no reason for this." 

Now that he was the gentle Charlie again, she could speak softly. She made 
him lie back on the bed and loosen the tension in his muscles. "Just relax, 
like I told you. I'm not going to laugh at you. This happens. We've got all 
night, and if we don't make it tonight, we have next weekend. Nobody's going 
to know about this but you and me. I'm not going to tell anybody." 

Now Charlie was relaxed to the point of having a big grin on his face. 
"Well, gee whiz. I always thought ... a girl would laugh at a guy." 

"No. At least not a girl with any consideration at all. Now, I want you to 
tell me about yourself, what you want to do with your life, everything." 

"Well ... " 

They sat up in bed, the sheet pulled up to Susan's neck, while Charlie spoke 
of the future as he saw it, then of past incidents in his life, his family, 
funny things that had happened to him, the farm he grew up on. 

Susan, in the meantime, was bouncing around, sometimes pressing her breasts 
against the side of his chest, sometimes running a hand lightly over him, 
and one time, when he rested a hand on her thigh, she pressed her 
scrub-brush up against that hand. 

Then she turned away from him and said, "Rub my back. I just love to have my 
back rubbed." 

"Sure." 

"Ah, you have nice hands," she said as Charlie moved his hands from her 
shoulders down over the soft skin. Susan knew the value of the gradual, of 
sort of sneaking up on their problem. Now she said, "A little more to the 
side, both sides," and then, "Still more." 

Gradually Charlie's fingertips felt the soft flesh of her breasts each time 
he moved his hands up and down the relatively hard surface of the rib cage. 
And though he could have put his hands full on her breasts if he had so 
chosen, this hint of soft womanliness, this self-teasing, made his fingers 
tingle, then made his whole body tingle. 

Susan locked her hands on top of her head and waited, relaxed. Charlie's 
fingers were coming around more and more, until now they ran lightly over 
the rounded surfaces every time his hands came up, and then even lingered 
there a while. Then he cupped her breasts fully, buried his face in her neck 
and said, "Oh, God! Oh, God!" 

Susan turned and lay back. He fell on her and went into her. 

They were two beautiful bodies, each giving the other joy as they received 
it in turn. Two rhythmic, loving bodies, filled with the joy of life, of 
giving, of enjoying, of exulting, of being carried up to the heights of 
ecstasy. 

Slowly they came back to earth, disentangled, and lay side by side, quietly. 

"What are you thinking?" Susan asked after awhile. 

"That you're marvelous," Charlie said. "That you're absolutely marvelous." 

.Susan was sitting further up in bed, so when Charlie pressed against her, 
his head rested on her left breast. And now, like a baby that has had its 
fill and wants its sleep, Charlie fell asleep on Susan, his head resting on 
her breast. And Susan was perfectly happy sitting there, letting him sleep, 
looking at that big body that she had so recently thrilled with the touch of 
ecstasy, the body that was so rugged and fearful on the gridiron and now 
looked so gentle, so easy to handle. 

 6 

SUSAN STOPPED SHORT, HER EYES POPPING, and an involuntary "Oh!" escaped from 
her throat. Then she spilled her books onto the leaf-strewn ground. 

A tall, thin lad was walking past right then and said, "Here, let me help 
you." 

"Well ... if you're not in a hurry." 

"No hurry. Here, now. Cross your arms. We'll put your notebook first, then 
this, then this ... " 

So Susan crossed her arms in front of her breasts while the boy piled the 
books on. And every time he put a book there, she would pull her arms toward 
her, bringing his fingers lightly against her boobs. The boy would jerk his 
hand away as if he had touched a hot potato. 

Maybe Susan should have stood instead of kneeling while the boy piled on the 
books, maybe not. But at any rate, when the books were in place and she went 
to stand, her arms uncrossed somehow, and all the books came tumbling down 
again. 

"Oh, how stupid of me! Now I bet you really are in a hurry, and could kill 
me." 

"No hurry, really. Look, where are you going?" 

"Over to Palmerston House." 

"Well, why don't you let me carry half the books and you carry the other 
half, and that way I think we'll manage." 

"Are you sure you wouldn't mind?" 

"Mind! No, I'd ... I'd like to ... really. There's nothing to mind." 

Jeffrey had almost said he'd like to prolong this visit between them, and he 
wasn't quite sure why that almost slipped out. Little did he know that Susan 
had been actively looking for him ever since school had started. 

It was a small university, with not more than a thousand students, so it was 
not difficult to get acquainted with a good part of the student body. But 
sometimes it happened that good friends would go six months without once 
seeing each other on campus, their schedules arranged in such a way that one 
was always over here when the other was over there. 

Such seemed to be the case between Susan and Jeffrey, for school had been in 
session for a month now, and Susan had been on the lookout every day for the 
bashful but curiously unashamed boy who had frolicked in the pool with her 
last spring. She had just about given up, thinking he had not come to 
MacIntosh U., for after all, he was not a football player and tennis season 
was way off, so the student body had not heard of him yet. 

So when Susan did see him, the "Oh!" just slipped out, so surprised was she. 
She was later even more surprised to realize that she had handled the 
situation just right, that she hadn't lost her head or stood paralyzed, but 
had done just what it took. For it worked, and by the time they had parted, 
Jeffrey (who didn't recognize Susan, not having been looking much at faces 
that previous spring, though she did look vaguely familiar) had asked if he 
could see her again, and they'd made a date for the movies on the next 
Saturday night. 

For Jeffrey, that was the date of all dates. Since neither Jeffrey nor Susan 
was totally innocent of the ways of the opposite sex, it was conceivable 
that she could have taken him straight to a motel and given him a more 
intense pleasure than that of hand-holding at a movie house. But it is 
doubtful that the evening would have been more important to him. 

There was something almost ethereal, almost spiritual in Susan's light 
touch, her hand curled in his, her breath in his ear when she whispered to 
him. He had never known a girl-excluding Miss Jellicoe, and she was hardly 
in his age group-he had never known a girl who had such a warm, inviting, 
delicate touch. 

When they held hands in the movie, she didn't push his hand to one side, or 
put it on top of a pocketbook or folded-up coat, as so many frightened girls 
he knew had done back in high school. His hand rested nicely between her 
thighs, and he could feel the warmth of her flesh through the thin cotton 
dress. Then, when she bent over to fix her shoe, her left titty rested on 
the hand that lay on her thigh, and Jeffrey thought he would rise through 
the ceiling-or that a certain part of him would. v He could not have been 
happier if she had been naked and he had been free to run his hands over her 
at will. It was a delightful moment in itself, and he Closed his eyes and 
swallowed hard, wishing she would stop it, would come back up, it was just 
too much for him, and when she did, he breathed a sigh of relief-and of 
disappointment. He could not have stood up then if the world had been on 
fire. 

For the remainder of the movie, she pulled his hand up closer to her and 
held it with a warm hand of her own-held it, indeed, against her crotch, and 
Jeffrey's eyes boggled in surprise, and he almost shouted involuntarily. She 
held it so warmly and snugly there that he thought he could feel-but no, 
even if the dress was thin, there were still undergarments, and it would be 
impossible to feel anything like what he first thought he'd felt through 
three layers of clothing. 

Afterward, they had a sundae at the local ice cream parlor, then took a 
leisurely walk through the campus, scuffling through the dry leaves on the 
paths and sidewalks. It was a still night, and they would have thought they 
were the only ones out if they had relied on their ears alone. But every 
once in a while, they would come across a couple humping it in the bushes, 
and Jeffrey wondered if some night after a movie he might be able to do that 
with Susan. But he was happy, whatever else would or wouldn't happen that 
night. Indeed, he could hardly have been happier. And Susan, had she known 
how happy he was, might well have congratulated herself for finding just the 
right pitch of teasing, just the right balance between holding him off 
virginally and going too far too soon, which might make him think this was 
not a "nice" girl. For Jeffrey most certainly did think of her as a "nice" 
girl, and that was one reason why her slight little nudges and ethereal 
touches were all the more exhilarating to him. 

Then, as they stood at her door, Jeffrey shifted from foot to foot, 
wondering if he dare take hold of her for one good-night kiss. It had never 
quite got across to him that if a girl like him, she would be wanting him 
to, and now, as friendly as Susan had been that night, he stood there 
wondering if she'd mind if he kissed her. 

But Susan's instinct was again just right. She didn't pull him to her 
aggressively, but just stood close to him, ever so close, with her face 
uplifted. And Jeffrey, looking down at this beautiful upturned face, had 
hardly to move his head before their lips met, and that wasn't so difficult 
for him. It was a light, gentle kiss. It didn't last long, they didn't press 
hard against each other and flick their tongues out. It was just a kiss of 
soft lips gently touching and lasting for no more than a few seconds. But 
Jeffrey tingled down to the tips of his toes, and it would be a long time 
before another kiss would make him tingle in quite that manner. 

Jeffrey didn't remember how he got home that night. He truly didn't remember 
coming home, nor taking off his clothes and getting in bed. He only knew he 
woke up that next morning with a general feeling of good will and love for 
everybody in the world. The earth was positively beautiful. 

Miss Jellicoe had told Jeffrey to look her up when he came back to the 
school. Now, after hemming and hawing about, Jeffrey screwed up his courage, 
and though he was shaking inside and his heart was beating furiously, he 
presented what he thought was a rather calm exterior to the girls' physical 
education department secretary and asked if he could see Miss Jellicoe. 

"What did you want to see her about?" the girl asked-was it suspiciously? 
Jeffrey wondered. 

"About my sister." Jeffrey had been intending to say it was none of her 
business in so many words, but the idea about a sister came to him even as 
he was talking, and after all, it would be less compromising for Miss 

Jellicoe. 

In a minute, he-was standing before his one-time paramour, who looked at him 
with a cold eye-until the door closed behind him. Then there was a sudden 
change in her, almost a metamorphosis. The coldness in her eyes melted into 
warmth with a twinkle; the thin, grim lips softened into fullness and a 
smile. She got up and came to him. 

"My lover boy," she said softly. "You came back." 

Jeffrey hung his head. "Sure. But I was scared." 

"Why were you scared?" 

"Oh, I don't know. I thought the secretary would suspect something, or that 
... well, I was mostly scared that you'd look at me with a blank eye and 
say, "What the hell do you want?" 

"Oh, you poor dear." She put her hands on his head and drew it toward her 
and gave him a kiss that made him dizzy, though she had only meant it as a 
kiss of affection. "A woman doesn't easily forget the men who are kind to 
her. And don't you think I've thought of you every day, wondering where you 
were, and if you'd show up?" 

"Gosh, I hadn't thought so." 

"Yes, my lover boy," she whispered. She pulled his head down to kiss again, 
only this time she threw her whole body against his, and he could feel the 
pressure of her breasts and the little knobs on the tips of them and above 
all the warmth, nay, the heat that emanated from her body. He felt himself 
grow weak inside, and all his strength seemed to concentrate in one part 
that was growing strong and sturdy, and he backed away. 

"Now I want you to come over to my place. I have a whole evening planned for 
you. Will you." 

"Sure, if you want me to." 

"If I want you to! Oh, you dear." And she gave him another kiss. Then she 
wrote her address on a piece of paper and said, "Tonight? At seven?" 

"Sure. Seven o'clock. I'll be there." 

Jeffrey started to walk out with a big grin on his face, suddenly remembered 
the secretary, composed himself and strode forth stoically. 

That evening, promptly at seven, Jeffrey punched her doorbell and was 
admitted by a beaming Jane Jellicoe. There was an air of lightness in the 
room. There was a soft, pleasant smell that seemed to lift Jeffrey a few 
inches off the floor. There were candles burning on the table, which was set 
with gleaming white plates against a brown tablecloth, and in the fireplace 
was a fire as a buffer against the chill of the evening. 

But above all, there was Miss Jellicoe herself, looking radiantly beautiful, 
and younger than Jeffrey had known her to look, and dressed completely in 
white. She looked something like an angel floating about the room. Her 
scoop-necked dress showed the bare upper fullness of her breasts when she 
stood. When she bent over, or when she walked, it was clear that she didn't 
have a thing on under it, at least not above the waist. 

Jeffrey sat at the head of the table, and his hostess made him feel like a 
man-like the head of the house for the first time in his life-as she bustled 
about, getting him a pitcher of milk, dishing out his main course while 
leaning over right before him. Jeffrey feasted his eyes on the magnificent 
sight, the roundness of those beautiful breasts visible down almost to the 
nipples, now swaying slightly as she moved, now joggling a little, and all 
the time he had only to sit there and feast. He had seen low-necked dresses 
before, and like most boys, he had taken his peeks, but always with 
awareness that he must look to see if the girls were looking at him, and 
sometimes finding that they were looking at him disgustedly for his 
voyeurism, .or so he thought. 

But with Miss Jellicoe there was no such problem. She had her head bent over 
the serving dish, and Jeffrey had only to sit there and enjoy himself, 
breathing deeply from time to time with happiness. If he had been conscious 
of the passage of time, he would have noticed that she remained there long 
enough to serve ten people, and he would have been puzzled, for it would not 
have occurred to him that she wanted him to look. But he was not conscious 
of the passage of time. He was conscious only that he was very, very happy. 

Then, when she went to the kitchen and returned, her breasts sloshing 
lightly under the silken white material, Jeffrey wanted to laugh out loud, 
not because there was anything funny, but for the sheer joy of living. 

Afterward, they sat by the fireplace and had spiced cider and whole wheat 
doughnuts that Miss Jellicoe had made herself. While he was sitting there on 
the floor and she was standing she suddenly said, "What's that on your 
head?" And she promptly bent over him. 

Now she was bending over twice as far as before, and had inadvertently 
brought her neckline right down, to his eyes, or at least he thought it was 
inadvertent. He found to his surprise that he could see to her waist, even 
beyond, even to the patch; she wasn't wearing anything under that dress at 
all! It was all very lovely to Jeffrey, an ethereal nakedness that he could 
look at without shame or guilt, without even wondering if she was looking at 
him disgustedly, for she could not see his eyes-and he need not even turn 
his head. 

After they had finished their cider and doughnuts, they sat before the fire, 
Jeffrey with his back propped against a chair, Miss Jellicoe with her back 
against him. She brought one of his arms around against her belly, and her 
left breast rested lightly on his left bicep, and then she took his right 
arm and brought it around, accidentally joggling her breast with his hand, 
and then she placed that arm, too, on her belly. 

Whether or not it was because he knew she had nothing under that dress, 
Jeffrey wasn't sure, but he did know that her body felt exceptionally warm 
that night, and he ran his hands back and forth across her belly, feeling 
her left breast run along his wrist. The first time he had seen her, she had 
taken her clothes off without a by-your-leave, and it was a wonderful time 
for Jeffrey, to have a woman want him so unashamedly and guiltlessly. But 
this also was wonderful, this teasing without harmful intent, this slow, 
unhurried movement toward the ultimate in enjoyment. Occasionally, even 
often, Miss Jellicoe would change position, and her knockers would joggle 
against his hands or his wrist, or she would move his hands, and he would 
feel new areas of warm flesh. This also was wonderful, perhaps even more 
wonderful. 

Once she reached back and accidentally touched him where he was most 
sensitive, and he let out a loud "Oh!". 

"Did I hurt you?" she asked in fright. 

"No," Jeffrey smiled. "Not at all." 

"Here, you've got so many clothes on, lean hardly get close to you," the 
hostess said. "Takeoff this sweater." 

When Jeffrey did that, she started unbuttoning his shirt, and said, "Take 
this off too," and when he had done so, she said, "A T-shirt, yet. Well, 
take that off too. I want to touch you." 

The fire was warm, and Jeffrey wasn't in a mood-to argue, so at last he was 
as she wanted him. Now, instead of leaning against him, she nestled against 
his side and ran her fingertips lightly over his skin. It was almost too 
much for Jeffrey, with her soft, warm, unrestricted breast pressed against 
his side; with her dress now more than halfway up her thighs; and now with 
the light, soft touch of her fingertips making his skin tingle. He felt he 
was going into a swoon, a delightful, cushy swoon, like falling into a giant 
vat of malted milk. 

A bed has certain advantages for making love. It has springs, and will give 
when a body presses down on it. It will give when one bounces-or when two 
bounce. A floor will not give, but offers only a hard, unyielding surface. 
And yet-there are ways and ways for two people to find enjoyment with each 
other, and if they do the world no harm, why, who would presume to say their 
way is wrong and should be forbidden? 

A floor may be unyielding, but if it is covered with a soft, cushy rug, if 
the room is filled with the aroma of perfume, if all the electric lights are 
out, and the only light comes from two candles burning low and a fire 
burning vigorously in the fireplace, and moreover, if this is where two 
lovers first find themselves naked, and neither feels inclined to speak, to 
break the spell, to say let's get up and go in the other room, why, who 
would presume to say they were foolish for making love there on the cushy 
rug, right before the fire, two interlocked and delightful bodies, rolling 
over and over, laughing softly, sighing, whispering, biting, kissing and 
above all, thoroughly enjoying the wonder of each other's bodies. Who? 

 7 

IT WAS THE MORNING BEFORE THE BIGGEST game of the season, the one with 
Haversham College, the arch rival of MacIntosh U. for nigh onto fifty 
years--indeed, the oldest uninterrupted rivalry in the southwest portion of 
the state between a university and a college. And MacIntosh U. was riding a 
crest. 

Nine straight games they had taken, nine straight victories, not only 
causing a lot of talk in the area, but provoking attention outside the 
state-indeed, provoking national attention. Nine straight games, and the 
team was fired with confidence, enthusiasm, and the will to win. 

The only fly in the ointment was that Haversham College was also riding a 
crest of nine straight victories, and that team was also fired with 
confidence, enthusiasm and the will to win. So it promised to be the game of 
the century for both schools. 

The girls were given instructions to get the boys particularly keyed up for 
this game, on this, the last day of their service-unless they cared to carry 
their exemplary and admirable school spirit over to the basketball team. 

(Bradley wanted to express his appreciation to the girls, and didn't quite 
know how to do it. He knew he couldn't write a letter to the school paper, 
explaining the particular contribution of these girls. The trustees just 
wouldn't understand. He finally decided he would have to settle for a scroll 
praising them for a contribution above and beyond the call of ordinary 
school spirit.) 

And this being a particularly important game, the girls had decided to 
change their tactics. Instead of getting the boys keyed up on Friday night, 
with the ever-present danger, that one would be too keyed up to sleep, they 
decided to hold off until Saturday morning just before practice, then get 
the boys keyed up to a fever pitch of excitement so they would tear through 
the opposing team that night. 

So on Friday night, the boys were told to go to bed early. To make sure that 
they didn't feel too lonely, the girls sneaked into the athletic dorm and 
soothed the anxious players, wiped their brows if they were sweating, held 
their hands, gave them a few kisses, and stayed with them until they relaxed 
and fell into deep slumber. Then the girls tiptoed away. 

The next morning, the boys gulped their breakfasts down with big grins on 
their faces. It wasn't the game they were looking forward to right them. It 
was the preliminaries. Then, along about ten, they drifted singly or in 
pairs, so as not to invite attention-over to the Student Union. 

The girls were waiting for them, and when the boys were ensconced in the 
chairs on their side of the room, Susan came out from behind the sheet and 
announced the rules. 

"Okay, now, we're going to have a contest, and the boy with the most points 
gets first choice tonight. First we're going to come out in costume, and you 
have to guess who we represent. Five points for that. I mean, the first-one 
to guess does. Then we're going to blindfold you, and you're got to guess 
who we are just by using your hands. You get ten points for every girl you 
guess right. Then you've got to put your hands behind your back and try to 
guess who we are without either looking or touching-at least not with your 
hands, okay?" 

The boys yelled and whistled their agreement and shouted, "Let's go! We're 
ready!" 

Susan went behind the sheet and slipped off her dress, and the girls were 
all ready. 

First, out come Veronica-wearing only a fig leaf, it was a new departure for 
the girls. They had previously come out more or less fully clothed and had 
found one way or another to remove their clothing. But now Veronica came 
striding forth, those magnificent breasts joggling and schloggling as she 
walked, that magnificent body looming over the boys like the Earth Goddess 
she always seemed to be. They were so taken with the view that they forgot 
to answer anything. 

After she had paraded back and forth a few times, she said, "Well, who am 
I?" 

"Eve!" they all shouted as one voice. 

"Okay, you all get five points for that. Next!" she yelled to the girls 
behind the sheet. 

Susan came out now, wearing a white sash around her hips. It came low down 
around her hips, and a loose end hung over her tizzy-mizzy. "Who am I?" she 
asked the boys as she paraded that slim, lithe body before them-the long, 
lean legs, the smallish breasts that were curiously plump, the pert nipples 
seeming to point right at a person when she faced someone. And the boys sat 
there quiet, partly because of the beauty of that slender body, partly 
because they were genuinely stumped. 

Susan stood still now, her interlocked hands resting on her head, her body 
turned slightly. "Come on boys. Can't you make a guess?" 

Lightbulb scratched his head and yelled out, "A Greek statue!" 

"You're getting warm," Susan said. 

"A Greek woman!" Charlie yelled. 

"Well, I'm obviously not a man." 

"Helen of Troy!" Lightbulb yelled, and he was the first to surge ahead in 
points. 

Marsha came out wearing a deerskin fringe that fit around her hips in much 
the same way that Susan's sash did, and when she did a pirouette, the fringe 
twirled up. 

"An Indian!" somebody yelled. 

"More specific," she demanded. 

"Hiawatha!" Charlie yelled, and he moved into a tie with Lightbulb. 

Barbara came out wearing the figure of a snake curling around a pyramid-in 
the same place where Veronica wore her fig leaf-and one boy who knew his 
history yelled out Cleopatra. 

The Helen finished off with a ruffle such as the Elizabethans wore around 
their necks-only Helen wore the ruffle somewhat lower down, being as it was 
all she was wearing. She was finally identified as the first Queen 
Elizabeth. 

They were an enchanting sight, the five of them, with their nubile young 
bodies all covered at just that same point by their various costumes, their 
waists and legs tapering differently, their boobies of different sizes and 
configurations, of different heights above the floor, and yet all of it was 
so delightfully wonderful. 

"All right, blindfolds!" Veronica yelled. "And you guys can't touch us where 
our costumes are, because that would make it too easy." 

There were a few grumbles and good-natured complaints as the girls each took 
a blindfold and began to blindfold the players. Some of them jumped the gun, 
reached behind them and ran their fingers along the girls' legs. 

"No fair!" Susan squealed, squirming in delight, for she was especially 
ticklish to fingers drawn lightly along her legs, but she didn't discourage 
the fellow too vigorously. 

Then they were ready. Roy, a defensive tackle, was the first to be led 
blindfolded to a girl. They especially wanted to get him keyed up, for he 
would have to break-into the opposing line and harass the Haversham 
quarterback. It was Marsha he was given to guess, a plump-breasted girl of 
slender proportions, and Roy went through all the variations he could think 
of to prolong the guessing. 

First he ran his hand from the bareness of her lower belly over the upper 
belly to the breasts, then down again slowly and back up. Marsha purred and 
leaned back against him. Then he ran his fingers lightly over the breasts, 
ran his fingertips over the nipples, then lifted the breasts-, held them, 
squeezed them gently, kneaded them, then let them fall back to their natural 
level. Then he said he couldn't decide and had to go through some of his 
investigation again. (He especially seemed to like running his fingertips 
lightly over her nipples.) 

Marsha wasn't complaining, but only purring while some of the boys were 
yelling that it was taking too long. At last Roy guessed Helen, and was 
truly surprised when the blindfold was removed and he saw how wrong he was. 

Since he had taken longer than expected, the girls decided to have the next 
two boys go at one time, so Charlie was given Veronica and Lightbulb was 
given Susan, a switch in girl friends that everybody thought was eminently 
fair. Now, Charlie knew he had Veronica after about one second. She was the 
only girl who had bazooms that size and that high off the floor. So he was 
hardly in doubt. But like Roy, he didn't see any need to make a hasty guess. 
Indeed, since Roy had guessed wrong, Charlie felt it only sensible to take 
his time. 

He ran his hands down to her costume, over the smooth skin of her hips, up 
over the softness of her belly, around just under the breasts, teasing 
himself, putting off the moment of delight ... and then ... lightly, gently, 
he ran his hands over those delightful protuberances, just barely touching 
them with his fingertips and making Veronica give a shiver of delight. He 
ran his palms over the nipples, then hefted the honeydews, closed his eyes 
and kissed her on one shoulder. 

The thought that Lightbulb was doing much the same thing to his girl hardly 
entered his mind. Indeed, there was no reason why any such wayward thoughts 
should have been entering the mind of one so completely happy. But Lightbulb 
was doing just that-exploring the smooth flesh and body contours of sweet 
Susan, touching lightly for a moment, then pressing against all the 
nakedness he could cover with his big hands. He smiled broadly when Susan 
put her hands over his. 

While this was going on, George Wheelock was pacing back and forth in his 
office. Had he been a happy man with his winning football team, then pacing 
for fear of their losing this crucial game would have been understandable. 
But he was pacing more for fear that they would win. One loss would have 
made the wonder of this Cinderella team a little easier to take. But if they 
won? 

How would he explain it to the regents? How could a coach go from not 
winning a game to not losing a game so quickly? It looked suspicious enough 
already, not only to the regents, but to the townsfolk and to other schools. 
A good, resounding defeat would alleviate their suspicions somewhat-but how 
would he alleviate his own suspicions? 

He had gone over the books twice. There didn't seem to be a way in the world 
for Bradley to be subsidizing these boys from the school coffers, and 
certainly he didn't nave the money to do it on his own. Still, there was 
something funny about it all, or at least, so he felt. 

He paused before his huge window to look out over the campus. Straight 
before him was the Student Union, to the left was the Science Building, and 
over the tops of some trees, he could see the stadium where that afternoon's 
game would be played. 

Something seemed out of place in the scene before him. He didn't know what 
it was, but something disturbed him a little. It was as if a building had 
been moved ten feet to the left or to the right, or a tree had been removed 
or planted full-grown since he last looked. He consciously ticked off the 
landmarks that should have been there, and everything seemed in place. 

He walked away from his window to resume his meditations, but somehow, 
something drew him back. There was something ... And then he had it! The 
drapes on the second floor of the Student Union were all closed! 

Now, this wasn't such a terrible thing, and certainly it didn't occur to him 
that there was any real significance in it. But he was used to looking into 
the student lounge from his third-floor office, watching the students come 
and go, chatting, playing chess, an occasional couple nuzzling each other 
when the lounge was nearly empty and they thought they were unobserved. He 
took a proprietary interest in them, and now he was-shut out. 

Well, he thought, since his mind wouldn't settle down enough for him to do 
any work anyway, he might as well wander over there and at least open up the 
drapes on this brisk autumn morning. 

The boys, still blindfolded, now had their hands tied behind their backs. 
They were to determine by kissing and nuzzling who the girls were and this 
would be a crucial guess, since nobody was really ahead. 

Charlie was the first, and Helen with the ruffle around her hips and loins 
was the girl silently chosen for him to guess. First his lips hit her 
shoulder, and from that point, by instinct, he found her lips, and gave her 
a good kiss. 

"Ah, delightful!" he said. From there, he kissed on down to her breasts and 
nuzzled his face between them, first against one, then against the other. 

It was at this point that the door was unlocked, Wheelock took two steps in, 
and froze. He was dumbfounded to the point of speechlessness, and so were 
the girls. For more than a minute, they stood there, open-mouthed, 
slack-jawed, looking at each other,, unable to utter a word. The boys, all 
blindfolded of course, could feel a tension in the room, and they began to 
shift uneasily. All except, Charlie, of course. 

He was too intent on his business to have noticed a change in the atmosphere 
of the room. Now he ran his lips softly over Helen's breasts. "Ah, smooth 
skin!" he rhapsodized. "Soft, smooth, beautiful skin!" Then he put his cheek 
under her breast, lifted it a little, felt its contour by running his cheek 
around lightly. "Mmmmm. Pear-shaped. I'd say. Now that could be Susan or 
Marsha or Helen. Let me see." He nuzzled his head between her breasts again. 

Suddenly Helen came to life and yanked off his blindfold. Charlie took one 
look at the frozen figure of the president-and fainted dead away. The girls 
were now prompted to action, and ran behind the sheet. 

"Take off your blindfolds, boys," Susan yelled out. "We've got a real 
surprise for you." 

The boys did as they were told, and though none followed Charlie's example, 
they were almost as astounded, and all felt a little queasy. Wheelock, in 
the meantime, recovered, at least enough to close the door behind him and 
come on into the room. But for some time, all he could do was say, "Well, 
well!" over and over again. He, too, felt a little queasy inside, and could 
only grab a chair and. sit down weakly. Then he said, "Well! Well!" 

The girls, in the meantime, were dressing, taking their time about it, for 
they feared going back out there and facing Wheelock's wrath, or at least 
his reproval. Veronica, however, was long gone. She had donned her one-piece 
shift and climbed out a window, then ran along the ledge and jumped in 
through another window. She had to warn Bradley that the jig was up. 

Bradley sat in the faculty dining room with Jane Jellicoe, Murph and Big 
Ben, He'd had a hearty breakfast, and now he sat back with a cigar. He felt 
happy, satisfied, pleased, and barely listened to the conversation of his 
three colleagues. His boys were keyed up for this game, were indeed being 
keyed up right then, and there was no real reason why they shouldn't win. Of 
course, it was always possible that the other team would prove to be the 
better one. The MacIntosh U. boys weren't supermen, after all. They were 
just healthy boys being keyed up in a good, healthy way. And if they lost, 
well, there would be time enough for sorrow after the game. For the moment, 
he was too happy to have any worries. 

Suddenly he sat bolt upright. He was facing the entrance, and Veronica came 
striding through. Just-about every part of her body jiggling under that 
tight shift. He was, first, a little surprised that she would walk around 
without a thing under her dress, considering all the lechers around campus; 
secondly, a little disturbed at her coming right into the faculty dining 
room; and most of all, alarmed by the look on her face. 

"What is it?" he asked under his breath, hardly aware that he was speaking. 
Then he got up to intercept her, for his colleagues knew nothing about the 
game he was playing. "What's up?" he asked, stopping her abruptly and 
feeling a little sick already. 

"It's all over." Distractedly, she ran a hand through her hair. "Wheelock 
walked in on us. He's there now." 

Now Bradley did feel sick, and his stomach seemed to be turning over and 
over. "You'll have to give me a little time to digest this. No, it just 
can't be true." 

"I wish it weren't. We're all dead ducks." 

Bradley pulled out a chair and sat down. Veronica sat beside him. "How did 
it happen?" he asked weakly. 

"Who knows? The door opened, and there he was." 

"Didn't you lock it?" 

"Sure. I guess he has a key." 

"Yes, of course he would." 

Bradley swallowed hard and tried to look brave. "Well, of course there are 
other ways of making a living. Veronica, let's get married and sail the blue 
Pacific." 

Before she could answer, Miss Jellicoe came up. "You're in trouble," she 
said simply. 

"Who, me?" Bradley asked, looking surprised. "I don't know what you mean." 

"Now, don't treat me like a child. I know what's been going on." 

"What's been going on!" Bradley repeated innocently. "I don't know what you 
mean." 

"All right, enough's enough," Miss Jellicoe persisted. "I know why the 
team's been winning, and I know Veronica wouldn't be here if something 
hadn't gone wrong. So let me have it." 

. "You knew all this time?" 

"Of course." 

"And you didn't tell anyone?" 

"Why should I? Now tell me what's up." 

"The worst. Wheelock walked in on them. The girls were dressed-how, 
Veronica?" 

"Just barely. One garment apiece, below the waist." 

Miss Jellicoe decided she would have to take charge. "Where is everybody 
now, Veronica?" 

"I guess they'll still up in the lounge. They were there five minutes ago." 

"Did any of the other girls get away?" 

"No, I was the only one." 

"Hmmm." She looked at her watch. "Okay, now it's almost eleven o'clock. We 
don't have much time, and we've got only one girl, so Veronica, I think the 
major burden is going to fall on you. Do you think you're up to it?" 

"Sure. You just tell me what you've got in mind." 

"Now, we're going to have to start with assumption that Wheelock-likes young 
girls, though he's never given us any proof of it. Do you have a dress with 
a nice low neckline, down to about here?" Miss Jellicoe drew her finger 
across Veronica's boobs, just barely above the nipples. 

"No, I never did go in for that type." 

"Well, we'll have to use what you've got and a pair of scissors. I'll buy 
you a new dress, the snazzist one you can find. Come on, we'll go to my 
office." 

Bradley tagged along, feeling something like a fifth wheel now, but relieved 
that something was being done. 

Meanwhile, as Wheelock was trying to recover his senses, the girls were 
reluctantly getting dressed, Charlie had recovered from his faint, and the 
other boys sat with chattering teeth. The whole gang was still in the room 
where Veronica had left them. 

Now at last they were assembled before Wheelock, and' it was hard to tell 
whether the girls or the boys looked more submissive and ready for 
chastisement. 

"Well, what have you people to say for yourselves?" he asked. He might as 
well not have asked it, for he had no sooner got the question out than the 
door opened and Veronica sailed into the room. 

She was wearing the same dress-only now the neckline had been scooped out so 
that her breasts not only jiggled enticingly as she walked, but they were 
enticingly visible. Wheelock sat transfixed. 

He was basically a normal man who found beautiful girls exceedingly 
alluring. But somewhere back in childhood or adolescence, his instincts had 
been repressed and his inhibitions had taken over. He had been taught that 
intellectual achievement was more important than going out with girls, and 
he'd believed it. Still worse, he'd been taught that there was something not 
quite nice about making out with girls, and that the right girl would 
somehow come along one day, and he'd believed that, too. 

The result was that he had learned many things, but nothing about girls and 
moving in on them. He had thus reached his 40th birthday without the 
pleasure of having plumbed a poon-pipe. Still ... he did like girls, and now 
as Veronica came walking in, bouncing her boob flesh as if it-were the most 
natural thing in the world, he sat entranced. 

It was, to him, a far more wonderful sight than when he had walked in on the 
five scantily clad girls. Indeed, that had momentarily been a very beautiful 
sight, but he had come as an intruder, and when, moreover, the girls ran 
upon his appearance, that only intensified his feeling of shame, and he had 
remained in his role of the stern college .administrator. But Veronica was 
not running from him. On the contrary, she was walking right toward him. She 
didn't seem to regard him as an intruder, as a threat, as a terrible man. 
Indeed, she seemed, if anything, proud of her body, happy to show what she 
had. 

Then, when she stood before him, when she leaned over (for he was sitting 
and she was standing), and he could see the fullness of those breasts, naked 
under the dress, he felt that nothing else mattered. 

"President Wheelock," Veronica said. 

Her voice came through thick wool, or at it least seemed so to Wheelock, who 
just sat there with a big grin on his face and his eyes glued to her 
knockers. Seeing she had his eyes, Veronica, without straightening up, gave 
a nod to the nearest girl, instructing all of the other girls' to leave 
unobtrusively and go up to Miss Jellicoe's office. 

"Eh?" Wheelock finally said in response to Veronica's salutation. 

"President Wheelock, I want to ask you something." 

Again the voice seemed to come through wet wool. The wheels were slow in 
clicking into place in his mind, but finally he was able to get out, "Go 
ahead." 

"Will you let the boys go now and get ready for the game?" 

"Naughty, naughty," he said vaguely. He didn't know why those words of 
reprimand from his mother suddenly came forth, but somewhere in the back of 
his mind, he was resisting the vortex of delight that Veronica represented 
to him. 

"We have tried to make the boys happy," she cooed. "They-like us. We-like 
them to-like us. Is this naughty?" She swayed her breasts slightly now. 

"Naughty, naughty," was all that came to his tongue, as he still sat 
transfixed. 

Helen came in now. She was wearing a tight orange skirt and sweater, and in 
Miss Jellicoe's office had divested herself of all other garments. Veronica 
yielded her place to Helen, who knelt on the floor and took on of Wheelock's 
hands. 

"President Wheelock, we were getting the boys rarin'to go out there and play 
football. Is there anything wrong with it, really ?Anything against it in 
the rule book?" 

"Well, I don't know," he said dubiously. 

Helen pressed his hand against her breast-cleavage, and his head, which had 
begun to clear up, now went into a new spin. He had often longed to touch 
girls, because he just knew there would be something delightful about it. 
But he had not known how to do it, he had not really known he could do it, 
and now that it had happened, he knew he'd always been right-it was 
delightful. 

Suddenly, in a single graceful movement, Helen picked herself up off the 
floor and sat on his lap, holding his hand against her breasts, only now it 
was the palm of his hand that touched the flesh-mounds made doubly soft by 
the softness of her sweater. Wheelock thought she was whispering in his ear 
and that he could not make out her words; he only knew it made him tingle 
all over; he didn't know that she was only cooing and purring. And with his 
hand on her breasts that way and her whispering in his ear that way and her 
cute little ungirdled rear end bouncing around on his lap, he felt himself 
growing to a state that could prove to be truly embarrassing, and he 
wondered if this friendly young girl could detect it. 

Veronica, meanwhile, had not been idle. First she got Lightbulb up from the 
couch and out of the room. He would protest innocently that he was just 
going to the men's room if Wheelock tried to stop him. But Wheelock didn't 
even notice the quarterbacks' departure. He was far too involved. So 
Veronica started sending out two players at a time, then three. 

In the meantime, Susan came waltzing in wearing a mini-skirt to end all 
mini-skirts. It came three-fourths of the way up her thighs. Now, Susan had 
particularly lovely legs, and furthermore, when she stood with them slightly 
apart and flashed those legs about, the effect of the short skirt was 
exceptionally provocative. In addition, she was wearing a tight white blouse 
that was unbuttoned and tucked into her skirt, so that when she stretched, 
her nipples showed clearly against the thin cloth, and when she bent over, 
there was a teasing now-you-see-them-now-you-don't quality. But Susan's main 
attraction was those long, flashing white legs as she leaped about, each 
leap making the mini-skirt hike up just a bit more. 

By now Veronica had hustled the whole team out of the room, and they hardly 
needed dark-eyed Barbara, who came in wearing a toga of that material which 
is like cellophane when held tight against the body, like thick wool when 
held away. She did her little dance, pulling the toga tight against her from 
time to time. Then when Helen got off Wheelock's lap, she took Helen's place 
and pulled his hand up her leg, then down, then up again along the outside, 
all the way to her hip. 

But she'd hardly been needed, and Marsha was told not to bother at all. The 
players were all gone now, and Wheelock was a cooked goose. Veronica 
searched in his pocket for his keys-against token resistance and finding the 
right one, shooed the other girls out of the room. 

Wheelock, who'd had only a vague, fuzzy notion that several girls were 
delightfully flitting about the room, gradually became aware that it was 
silent. Then he saw the first girl leaning over in front of him, her breasts 
almost uncovered, almost falling out of that dress, swaying gently, round, 
full, and exceptionally beautiful, and it was as if he were seeing a replay. 
Only now there was a difference, for she took his head in her hands and 
kissed him. He just closed his eyes and enjoyed it. 

What subsequently transpired in that room should perhaps not to told. 
Certainly it would be generally considered a terrible thing for a college 
president to seduce a student half his age, and if the townsfolk were to 
hear about it, certainly they would yell for his scalp, and why shouldn't 
they? For what self-respecting parent would want to send a daughter to such 
a school? 

And yet, if the student knew more about the ways of the world than the 
president; if, indeed, the student did the seducing; if, indeed, she took 
off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, and ran her hands over his body; if, 
indeed, she loosed all his clothing and he felt that there was an 
unsurpassed beauty in her touch as well as in her body; if, indeed, she 
wanted him so much that she took off her own clothes without coyly asking 
him to do it; if, indeed, she pulled him to her and locked herself around 
him, why, who would say he was to blame? Who would say a daughter was 
endangered by attending such an institution? Why, it should be obvious that 
the girls themselves were the danger and it was the president who was daily 
placed in jeopardy by such students attending his university. 

And furthermore, if at the age of 40, the man had never tasted such a 
delight, if this was due to the repressions imposed on him by a twisted 
mother, why, who would begrudge him that pleasure? Who would be that narrow? 
Let angels sing in heaven! Another soul has been saved from a dreary life of 
inhibition! 

Now, as he lay asleep on the couch, covered by two blankets that Veronica 
had been able to scrounge up, she smoothed the hair back from his forehead 
and mopped the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief. Such a stern, 
.father-like figure he had been, and then so boyish in his delight, and now 
so like a baby sleeping a contented sleep. 

A roar went up in the distance, reminding Veronica that it was game time. 

It wasn't an easy game the boys played that afternoon. Indeed, it was the 
toughest of the season. But there was never really any doubt about who would 
win. 

Lightbulb tossed a touchdown pass to Charlie in the first five minutes, and 
when Haversham got the ball, their line was smashed time and time again. Oh, 
they had a pretty good team, and held strong from time to time, and even 
pushed on for a few touchdowns. But MacIntosh U. got a few more, and 
finished off the game with a 27-12 score. There was wild jubilation in the 
stands. 

That evening, President Bullock of Haversham College toasted the winning 
team in a reception at President Wheelock's house. "A fine bunch of boys," 
he said. "A fine bunch of boys. Still, I keep feeling you've got a secret 
weapon, you old rascal, you," he said to Wheelock. "And I'm trying to figure 
out what it is." 

Wheelock just laughed. "Someday I may let you know," he said good-humoredly. 

 8 

JEFFREY WAS IN HIS ELEMENT WHENEVER HE was out with Susan. He had always 
been used to girls who pushed him away, or at least held him off, who seemed 
to have hard bodies and hard voices-or at any rate, that was the way they 
seemed as he looked back on them on. 

Susan was so different in all ways. Her body was soft and warm, and she 
never pushed him away. Of course, he didn't take advantage of that fact. 
That would have been ungentlemanly. Still, he had been bold enough to slip 
his arm around her waist, and it was so sensuously delightful that he was 
certain her skin was right on the other side of that dress. (It was.) And 
when she took his arm and settled it a bit higher her breasts rested on his 
wrist and his head went into a spin. 

When they went to the movies, she always pulled his hand up to a warm, snug 
spot. And to top it all off, he had once-but only once-run his hand fully 
over one of her breasts-accidentally, at first, but them somewhat 
deliberately, he admitted that. Of course, he hadn't let his hand linger 
there. He knew a nice girl wouldn't like that and he could not have stood to 
hear her say, "Really, Jeffrey!" in a disapproving tone, as a few girls had 
in high school. So he had just run his hand over and then to her waist. 
Still, it had been delightful. 

And her kisses weren't like any he had known before. In high school, all the 
girls had given him hard-lipped, thin-lipped, dry, and almost begrudging 
kisses-unless he counted Harriet, the play girl of the school, whom they had 
paired him with one evening. But her kisses were so mushy, it was like 
kissing a sponge, and he finally broke away and ran. 

Susan's kisses had that just-right quality about them. Her lips were 
slightly parted, moist, warm and inviting. But most important of all, she 
seemed to like to kiss him, didn't seem to offer her kisses as a begrudging 
payment for the being taken out, didn't break off as soon as was convenient. 
No, she seemed to like to hold him. Sometimes she would put both hands 
gently on his face, sometimes she would hold his arms above the elbows, 
sometimes her arms were tight around him. 

Often she tilted her face upward and seemed to ask for a kiss. And 
occasionally she did ask for a kiss, and those were the best times of all, 
because Jeffrey felt wanted and he knew he hadn't been too fast with her. 

Now they sat in the living room of her sorority house. The housemother 
didn't stay up very late, because the girls could be trusted to abide by 
certain unwritten rules-at least, in the house, where they might be 
interrupted at any moment. 

So Jeffrey and Susan sat there silently, happy In each other's company, 
holding hands. Then Jeffrey ran his free hand across Susan's belly and 
pulled her toward him, though he didn't have to pull hard. She put her hand 
up over his cheek, gently past his ear, and rubbed the back of his neck, 
while their lips met warmly, gently, moistly. Then they parted, looked at 
each other and kissed again. When they withdrew, her hand fell on his thigh. 
It was alight hand with so gentle a touch. It was almost as if a butterfly 
had alighted there. 

He liked her hand there, and yet it did seem strange that a nice girl would 
leave it there. Perhaps she didn't fully realize where it was. And then he 
had a queasy feeling. A part of him seemed to be growing-trying-straining-to 
meet that hand, and that could be disastrous. Or would she even know what it 
was? No, probably not. Still, he wished it wouldn't happen, but the more he 
tried to wish it down, the more It grew, until ... 

It bumped. He expected her to scream and draw her hand away, but she did 
neither, so he breathed a sigh of relief. She apparently didn't know what it 
was. But suddenly he could stand it no longer, took up her hand, kissed it, 
and then kissed her lips, a soft, lingering, loving kiss. 

Then he had to back away. If somebody had come in then and he had had to 
stand, it would have killed him. 

"Susan, do you know how I feel when I'm with you?" he asked softly. "I give 
up." 

"I just feel sort of happy all over, you know? Not just in my head, when I'm 
glad something has happened, or in my heart, but all over. I'm just a-tingle 
when I sit with you like this." 

She moved the few inches toward him that he had moved away and kissed him, 
then rested her head on his chest, and her arm fell across his lap. "Don't 
you know, that's just how I feel," she said. "All atingle." 

But Jeffrey was feeling uncomfortable again. Her arm was resting right on 
his throbbing member-indeed, seemed to be pressing a little-and he didn't 
know what to do. At any minute, she might jump away and call him a dirty old 
man, and he would be mortified. Still, if he took her arm away, she would 
think he thought she had deliberately put it there, and it would be like a 
boy stopping a girl-how ridiculous! 

Finally he could stand it no longer, and in despair of anything better to 
do, he stood up, walked about, went to the record stacks to look at the 
collection. 

"Is something wrong?" Susan asked innocently. 

"No," Jeffrey laughed nervously. "Everything is just right. But I think I'd 
better be going." 

She came up to him. "You're not mad at me, are you, Jeffrey?" 

He took her arms above the elbows and looked deep into her eyes. "How could 
I be mad at you who have made me want to sing with life, who have always 
shown kindness toward me? Oh, God, Susan, if I could only tell you how I 
feel!" 

"And can't you?" 

"Someday I will," he promised. 

Then he kissed her and held her close and he could feel the little knob of 
her mound of Venus pushed up against him, and he felt himself growing. There 
they stood, each thinking the other an innocent that hardly knew what sex 
was all about, each wondering if the other could feel the insistent genital 
pressure, neither knowing that the other had a secret lover ... 

Charlie was mad-well, not so much mad as he was hurt, and his anger was sort 
of a cover-up for the hurt. He could feel that Susan had withdrawn from him, 
and he didn't know why. He thought he had always been good to her. So when 
he saw her on campus, he stumbled around, then asked her what had happened. 
She asked if she could come over to his apartment that evening. 

Now there she was, sitting on the rug where she liked to sit, and Charlie 
was pacing back and forth, wanting to ask her why, and yet fearing to ask, 
fearing to learn that his suspicions were right. 

"All right, let me have it," he said bravely, steeling himself for the 
ordeal. 

"Sit down here, Charlie. I can't really talk while you're pacing. But wait! 
Do you have any candles?" 

"Yeah, a few, I guess." 

"Let's have candlelight. Then I can talk." 

So Charlie bustled about and found two candles and set them on the floor in 
front of Susan, turned out the electric lights and sat down opposite her. 

"You're a football hero, Charlie. Don't you have any other girl friends ? ' 

"Well, I don't know. Not really." 

"Now, what do you mean, not really? Do you or don't you?" 

"There are a couple of other girls I've seen a few times. But nobody quite 
like you, Susan." 

"Nobody quite like me. And yet, you have had other girls. Now, why couldn't 
I have another boy friend?" 

"But you're my number one girl, Susan. I've only seen them when you were 
busy. But ... well, I get the impression I'm not your number one boy 
friend." 

Susan hung her head. He had her there. It had not been exactly tit for tat. 
She had withdrawn from him because there was one she loved more, and she 
could not say he had done the same to her. So she had to tell him. 

"You're right, Charlie. There is another boy. He's my ... well, number one 
boy, as you would put it." 

"But what have I done wrong?" 

"Nothing, Charlie, believe me, nothing. It's only that this boy ... well, 
he's hit me in a peculiar way. It's something I can't easily explain." 

Charlie sat there looking downcast. "Well, gee whiz!" was all he could think 
to say. 

For a while they were silent, looking at the candle flames as if hypnotized. 
Then Susan broke the silence, saying softly: 

"Charlie?" 

"Yes, Susan." 

"It doesn't have to be the end between us, exactly. You know, you're a good 
lover." 

"Am I!" he yelled enthusiastically. "Yes, haven't I told you before." 

"I don't remember." 

"And my other boy friend ... well, he doesn't exactly love me that way." 

"What is he, crazy?" 

"Charlie, don't say anything against him, or I'll bash your head in. 
Besides, what I'm trying to tell you is that you can still be my lover if 
you won't ask to be my number one boy friend." 

"I can?" His face lit up more than the candles. "You would still want me?" 

"Yes, Charlie. Now." 

"Now?" 

"Yes, Charlie. Carry me away, lift me to the clouds." She stood, and Charlie 
stood also. "Take off my clothes, Charlie.. Strip me naked, rub me all over 
and make me feel glad to be alive. My shoes," she directed, holding one foot 
out. 

Charlie knelt, took off one shoe then the other, ran his hands up and 
unhooked each stocking and rolled them off. He stood and unbuttoned her 
cardigan and whipped that off. Though excited and in a little bit of a 
hurry, he was smooth and dexterous, and in a moment her skirt and half-slip 
had. fallen to the floor. 

Her brassiere dropped next, then her panties. She stepped delicately out of 
them and stood stark naked, wonderfully naked, beautifully naked in the 
chill night air, and Charlie followed her instructions and rubbed her all 
over-back, front, belly, breasts, butt, legs, arms-rubbed her, chafed her to 
warmness, while she tore i at his clothes and got him naked too. 

"Lift me, my lover boy," she whispered. "Lift me, carry me to bed like a 
knight of old with his sword straight before him. Carry me, my lover boy." 

By then, he was carrying her, and without putting her down, he grabbed the 
bedclothes with one hand, pulled them back and laid her gently on the 
sheets. Then, jumping in beside her, he pulled the blanket over them. 

They snuggled together and felt the chilly sheets, warm up from their body 
heat. Then the air felt warm and cushy, and they felt free to move around, 
rolling on one another, squishing down in the bed to warm each other's cold 
feet. Susan pulled Charlie's feet up to her crotch, and though they were 
cold for her crotch, the crotch was warm for his feet. So then he did the 
same for her. 

Then, thoroughly warmed and glowing, they moved toward each other in a more 
direct manner, rubbing, squeezing, tugging, touching, exploring, kissing, 
nuzzling, carrying themselves up higher in excitement, deliberately holding 
off, teasing themselves until they could stand it no longer. Then Susan drew 
him to her and took him into her, and they locked bodies and rocked back and 
forth, slowly at first, savoring the soft pleasure of taking it easy, 
caressing each other's bodies gently, giving pleasure, taking pleasure, 
exulting in the joy, moving faster, in a quick back-forth, beat-beat, 
hot-joy, hot-love, thump-thump, hump-hump, love-lovely.... 

And they exploded with ecstasy at the same time. 

While Susan was lying with Charlie, Jeffrey was similarly occupied with his 
paramour. Miss Jellicoe, after having heard some suspicion-tinged remarks 
from her neighbors, thought it might be better to meet her youthful lover at 
the Student Union and make love in her office, the scene of their first 
encounter. 

First, she said, they would take a shower in the girls' gym. No one would be 
around at that time, she said; it was after eleven o'clock. Besides, she got 
a kick out of taking obvious risks like this-there were a-bout ten people 
who had a key to the door. 

Still, none of those ten people were expected to be in the building on a 
week night, so Jeffrey entered into the spirit of the thing. First, they 
turned on six showers in the room, three on each side, to varying degrees of 
warmth and coldness, and then ran from one to the other, sometimes pulling 
each other into a cold one. Then, after the fooling around, they soaped each 
other from neck level down to tips of the toes. While Jeffrey stood tall and 
erect in all ways, Miss Jellicoe soaped him where he was most erect, and he 
shouted with joy. Then he soaped her down, taking particular care with the 
breasts. 

Then they rinsed themselves off, and with cushy towels, dried each other. 
And then-with Miss Jellicoe bravely leading and Jeffrey sheepishly 
following-they began their trek up to her room, each carrying a towel, but 
not bother to cover anything. 

They went up the stairs, along the carpeted corridor, across the wide 
expanse of the basketball floor-how vulnerable they seemed-then along 
"another corridor, until Miss Jellicoe, turning a corner, stopped short and 
said, "Wheelock" involuntarily, suddenly turned a-round and, pushing Jeffrey 
before her, ran back the way they had come. 

It was, indeed, Wheelock. Even since he had tasted the delights of love with 
Veronica, he had been able to think of little else. Of course, some men 
would have called Veronica and asked to see her again, but Wheelock was in a 
difficult position. Not only was he terribly inexperienced with women, but 
as president of the university, he didn't feel he could call and ask one of 
his students for a date. What is she refused! 

So he would often stand in his third-floor office, looking across longingly 
at the scene of his greatest happiness, wondering if it would be 
repeated-and how. A few times he saw a light in the Student Union after 
normal hours and went scurrying over there, only to find that it was the 
bookstore manager working late, or a janitor finishing up after a long 
meeting. But he wasn't going to give up, and now, the third time he saw 
lights, he moseyed over and went wandering about the corridors. 

Only this time he seemed to have hit the jackpot. When he heard his name, he 
turned around in time to see a pink fanny just disappearing around the 
corner. "Ah, ha!" he said in glee. "You little dickens? Caught you, huh?' 

Most of this was said under his breath, for he didn't want his prey to know 
how close he was. He didn't know who it was, but he figured it must be one 
of the team's girls, and that was good enough for him. Now, when the trail 
led to the basketball court, he flicked on the lights-but only in time to 
see much the same sight, a pink fanny just disappearing. 

"Getting closer," he said in partial triumph. 

Jeffrey by now was cold and scared and his teeth were chattering. "What are 
we going to do?" he whispered. 

"Just keep running, and don't get caught in a blind alley." And she kept 
pushing him before her. 

"If we get caught, it'll cost you your job." 

"We'll see. He's not here on a good-will mission, you know." 

They went along a corridor, down the stairs, onto the first floor with a 
maze of offices and conference rooms. "We'll have to hide," Miss Jellicoe 
finally said in desperation, "and wait till the old boy gets tired." 

She pushed Jeffrey into a room and, in the dim moonlight, steered him to a 
drape, then hid herself behind another drape. 

Now, a less ardent pursuer would have certainly given up after having lost 
the trail. There were too many places they could have gone. And though he 
had only seen the girl, he'd heard two sets of footsteps so, presumed that 
she had a boy friend with her, and in that case, he could only be 
superfluous if he did find them. But there were a few considerations that 
led him on. 

For one thing, naked people don't run outside and since most of the inner 
doors were locked, they just had to be here some place in one of the open 
rooms. For another thing, he hadn't actually seen a boy friend, and if there 
was one, well, he might be shamed into going home. But most important was 
the remembrance of his tussle with Veronica. It had easily been the most 
delightful moment in his life, and not knowing how to get a chance to repeat 
it except by this pursuit, he continued the pursuit. 

He walked into one room and flicked on the lights. "Ha! Caught you, you 
little dickens, you!" He hadn't seen anybody, had only hoped to scare them 
out, but there'd been no one. He walked into a conference room. "Ha! There 
you are!" he yelled. There was no answer. 

He was undaunted. The search was indeed pleasurable to him. As president of 
the university, he could hardly be criticized for investigating people 
running a-round in the Student Union naked after the doors were locked. And 
as a would-be Romeo, he felt certain of at least some reward when the search 
was ended-at the very least, the pleasurable sight of a naked girl that he 
would give a good talking to, for as long as he could make the talk last. 
And possibly there would be something better. 

So he wasn't getting tired of his search. He took his time, going from room 
to room, often looking behind himself quickly to make sure they weren't 
doubling back on him. Finally, he entered the room where the two culprits 
were hiding. 

"Ha! Caught you there!" he said with a tone of authority. 

But there was no tell-tale rustle, nobody emerging from the drape, not so 
much because they disbelieved him, but because each thought the other had 
been discovered and decided to wait and see what happened. But neither had 
been discovered; Wheelock was only bluffing. Now he wandered around the 
room, looking behind chairs and sofas. Then-he saw a pair of very feminine 
naked feet! 

Now that his prey had been found, he stood there, savoring the actual moment 
of revelation. He didn't "want it to happen all at once. He wanted to 
stretch out the delight of anticipation. He went back, turned out the light 
and closed the door, remaining on the inside. 

He expected to see a naked Diana emerge from behind the drape and stand in 
the evanescent beauty of moonlight, but the culprits were too smart for him 
and stood still. So he crept over to the drape, suddenly thrust it aside, 
grabbed a forearm and pulled her forth, saying, "Come out of there, you 
little dickens!" 

Miss Jellicoe didn't struggle to free herself from his grasp, but only stood 
with her head down. Wheelock was going to give her a talking to, as was only 
proper for the president of a reputable university, but he was taking his 
time about it. She was, after all, a beautiful sight in the dim moonlight. 
Her skin seemed to glow like phosphorus, and her breasts-fuller than he had 
expected-seemed to point toward him, inviting a touch that he feared to 
give. 

"Ah, so you'll hang your head, will you! Well, we'll see who you are!" 

Now, still holding her by the forearm, he pulled her over to the light 
switch and flipped it on. Then, putting a finger under her chin, he pulled 
her head up. 

The smile dropped instantly from his face. "Miss Jellicoe!" he yelled. He 
felt sick inside, and letting loose his grip, he sat down weakly. "Miss 
Jellicoe!" he said again, with less voice. It simply hadn't occurred to him 
that the naked pink fanny had belonged to the prim and proper physical 
education instructor. "Miss Jellicoe!" he said a third time, his voice 
almost gone now. 

Now that he had gazed on her naked body, had held her, had contemplated 
stroking her breasts, he felt he had committed a sin, even though he had 
contemplated doing all this with a student. But with Miss Jellicoe? The idea 
was unthinkable! 

Miss Jellicoe turned off the light, and while the man was prostrate, went 
over and told Jeffrey to sneak out when he could, get dressed and bring her 
clothes. Then she went back to comfort the man-as well as to shield Jeffrey 
from his view. 

Jeffrey sneaked out quickly, and in a few minutes, a hand reached around the 
door and laid her neatly folded clothes on the floor. Miss Jellicoe went 
over and calmly put her clothes on, then flipped on the light and said, 
"Will you take me home?" 

It was a haggard, lined face the president raised to his phys ed teacher. 
"Miss Jellicoe," he gasped out. "It's as if a light has gone out in the 
world." 

"Well, then, we'll just have to see if we can rekindle it," she said 
brightly. 

Ten minutes before, he might have caught the implication of this, but now it 
just went over his head. He mumbled that his car was outside, and certainly 
he would take her home. 

But he wouldn't go inside her apartment when she invited him. He simply had 
no desire for play of any sort right then. He was, indeed, a beaten man. And 
Sow, for the first time, Miss Jellicoe wondered if her job was in jeopardy. 
Still-though the idea of blackmail was abhorrent to her-she did know about 
Veronica. 

"Ah well," she said. "Tomorrow is another day." 

 9 

STATE UNIVERSITY ALWAYS SCHEDULED ITS first basketball game of the season 
with MacIntosh U. No one knew just how the tradition had started, but the 
game was regarded as only a warm-up for State,, and the question became not 
who would win, but how badly MacIntosh U. would be beaten. Even the 
MacIntosh U. students had begun to accept the annual drubbing with a 
philosophical shrug and often a laugh. 

Now, despite MacIntosh U.'s sudden attraction for athletes, State U. did 
have some of the top players in the country, veterans of several years on 
the court against some pretty tough opposition. So it was with a pretty 
confident, smug feeling that the State U. players journeyed to the small 
town that housed MacIntosh U., while on the home campus there was a general 
feeling of resignation even among the players. 

This feeling of resignation did not reach to the girls, however. They had 
put their head together and come up with a plan. They weren't going to key 
the MacIntosh U. boys up. After all, you cannot squeeze blood out of a 
turnip, and If they were really no match for the State U. boys, that 
wouldn't do much good. But there was always the other team to work on ... 

So, as this confident group of boys got off the bus on a chilly Friday 
evening in December-twelve boys huddling down into their parkas against the 
cold, twelve boys and one coach-several pairs of eyes observed them, 
feminine pairs of eyes. 

It would not be the same as when they keyed up their own boys, when it was 
sufficient to take care of the first string. Now they have to take care of 
all twelve boys-and the coach. 

Coach Tetmiller sat back after his hearty supper, took another sip of wine, 
and lit up a fat cigar. "Well, it looks to be another exciting season," he 
said complacently. They were at Coach Bradley's farmhouse, along with Miss 
Jellicoe and Miss Willingham from the history department. Tetmiller went on, 
"We're playing Southern Cal and Ohio State, and let's see, Purdue and Notre 
Dame. Yes, sir! It should prove to be an exciting season." 

"Don't forget MacIntosh U., " Miss Jellicoe said brightly. 

Tetmiller coughed on a puff of smoke, then laughed out loud. "Ha, ha. Yes, I 
forgot, MacIntosh U. Well, that should be a killer-diller of a game 
tomorrow." Then, still chuckling, he reached for his glass of wine. He was 
already a little bit high, but he didn't need to worry. Bradley had invited 
him to stay for the night, and as for his boys ... well, they weren't the 
type to get into trouble. A healthy, well-disciplined lot they were. And if 
one or two stayed up an hour or so beyond curfew, what was there to worry 
about in that? 

And indeed, along about ten o'clock, as Tetmiller was finishing off the 
fourth bottle of wine for the evening, his boys were settling down in their 
bunks. Whether MacIntosh was to prove a pushover or not, they did like to 
get their sleep, they did like to keep in condition. 

So Terry, the captain, and his sidekick, the six-foot-ten Ziggy, had just 
settled down, turned out their bed lights and begun to relax when the door 
opened; the lights went on and a girl holding a towel just barely covering 
her feminine parts stood there looking surprised. Her long, shapely legs 
were showing to within an inch of where there was no more leg, and her tits 
were peeping over the top of the towel so that the boys sat up in bed, 
pop-eyed. 

"Oh, excuse me," she said after a few moments of apparent bewilderment. She 
turned out the light and was gone. 

Terry chuckled, and Ziggy said, "Wow!" 

"I wonder where she's going," Terry said. "It wouldn't do any harm to take a 
look." He tiptoed to the door and peeked down the corridor, but he saw 
nothing. "She's gone," he said with a shrug, and returned to bed, thinking 
the evening's delight was over when it in fact had just begun. 

Now the door opened again, and in came a phosphorescent orange dress-at 
least, so it seemed, for all they could see was the dress. Then a haunting 
voice said, "Don't turn on the light, or I'll disappear." 

The boys were of no mind to make this girl disappear-especially since she 
now began weaving back and forth in a sinuous manner, she ripped off her 
blouse, revealing a phosphorescent brassiere. Then she stepped out of her 
skirt, which didn't change much because her half-slip looked about the same 
but then, that soon came off too. It was a truly intriguing sight to see 
those minimal garments, the brassiere and panties, seemingly floating in the 
air. Then the brassiere started crumpling. It fell, and the boys could only 
imagine the girl above the waist (but their imaginations were pretty 
strong). And then! 

The panties started rolling down, apparently of their own accord, until they 
were just a thin strip like an abbreviated bikini. Then that, too, dropped 
and she stepped daintily out of them. 

"Now, boys," she whispered. "Don't turn on the light, or I'll vanish into 
thin air-and you wouldn't like that, would you?" 

"Hell, no!" Ziggy said. 

"And here I am without a stitch on! Oh, I'm going to get chilly if one of 
you doesn't warm me up." They could hear her voice getting closer to the 
beds now, Soon she sat on Ziggy's bed, took his hand and placed it on her 
naked thigh. 

"See? My leg is cold! I need you to rub me down. Would you mind ? ' 

"Hell, no," Ziggy said, sitting up. 

At first he took her more or less literally; and just rubbed her leg. Then, 
getting more adventurous, he rubbed around her belly and back. Then, taking 
a chance, he rubbed his hands over her bubbly breasts. He let out a sigh of 
delight as he felt the pert nipples bump against his fingers. "Oh God!" he 
said. 

Suddenly she jumped up and went to the other boy. "Now you've got to keep me 
warm, or I'll simply freeze. Would you mind?" 

"Gosh, no !" Terry said. 

Since he hadn't been able to see Ziggy and didn't know how far he could go, 
he, too, started out rather conservatively, rubbing her arms and legs, then 
her belly and back, bumping against her breasts from time to time, testing, 
just testing. Then, in a bold gesture, his hands went up over them gently, 
feeling Just the surfaces, and then gave them a good brisk rub. And Marsha 
(for that's who it was) squealed in delight herself. 

"Now, who's going to help me put on my clothes?" she asked innocently. 

"I will!" both boys yelled. 

"Okay, you can both help. Now, you can find them, can't you?" 

They laughed, for the orange glow was the only thing visible in the room. 
They went to get the scattered garments. 

"First the panties, that's right," she said as one or the other held them on 
the floor for her to step into. "Okay, now up with them, atta boy, over the 
rump. Ah oh, you boys are experts. And now-that's right." 

One of the boys was already holding out her brassiere for her to slip her 
arms into. "Okay, one of you hold my titties and get them nice and secure in 
the cups." There was a small scuffle, as each wanted to, but finally Ziggy 
gave way to his captain and resigned himself to hooking the garment when 
everything was in place. Then her half-slip, skirt and blouse were put on, 
and she was as she had entered. 

"Good-bye, boys," she cooed softly. 

"Good-bye!" they yelled. They didn't know what she looked like, but they 
knew she felt good. And again they retired to their beds, thinking the 
evening's fun was over. But not for long. 

Now two girls came into the room, switched on the light, yawned, and took 
off their bathrobes to reveal rather sheer nightgowns. They didn't look at 
the boys or in any way acknowledge their existence. Then they switched off 
the light, tossed their robes aside, and climbed in bed, snuggling up close 
to their bedmates. 

"Ah, George," Susan purred (for she was one, and Helen was the other). "You 
feel good tonight, George." And in the other bed, Helen was telling "BU!" 
how good it was to snuggle up against him. 

Now the boys didn't know exactly what to do. If they told the girls they 
weren't George and Bill, would the girls get pissed off and say the boys 
should have told them immediately? On the other hand, if they didn't tell, 
would the girls press further, until it really would be embarrassing to 
reveal their true identity? Would they indeed stay all night? 

Before the boys could come to any sort of conclusion the girls had pressed 
their soft bodies up against the-boys, had run their hands under their 
pajamas, over their flesh. And the poor boys were stiff from fright or from 
something, and now conclusions of any sort were not-likely to be 
forthcoming. 

"George," Susan cooed in her boy's ear. Then she breathed softly into it 
until he shivered. "Did you miss me, George?" 

"I ... don't ... know ... " he gasped out. 

"You don't know!" 

The poor lad had only meant that he didn't know what to say, since he had 
never seen her before, but when she acted surprised, he quickly said, "I 
mean yeah, sure." 

"Well, that's better," she cooed. "Come, gimme a kiss. Gimme a nice, hot 
kiss. Make me tingle." 

The lad complied the best he could, and he figured he must not be doing too 
badly, because she held onto him and pressed herself more tightly against 
him. Then, pulling back, she said, "Why, you're not George! You're not 
really George at all, are you?" 

"Gosh, no. I guess I should have told you." 

"Helen, we're in the wrong room!" 

So Helen went through her act. "My God! You're not Bill?" she asked in mock 
surprise. "You're really not Bill?" 

They leaped out of bed and backed toward the door, picking up their robes on 
the way. "Sorry," Susan said. "We really thought we were in another room." 

"Oh, don't apologize," Ziggy yelled out. "We're not mad." 

But after they left, Terry did feel a touch of resentment. He lay wide awake 
in bed now. "That was kinda nice," he said quietly. "But I can't sleep now. 
Damn those girls." 

"Neither can I," Ziggy admitted. "And I keep wondering who George and Bill 
are. There's George Tamberlake, but we don't have anybody named Bill on the 
team. And besides, how would George know any girls down here? Must be a 
different guy." 

"Must be." 

"Well, I guess we'll just have to try to get some sleep." 

"Yeah, I guess so." 

But sleep for them was not to be, at least not in the near future. Soon the 
door opened again, and Terry was about to tell whoever it was-male or 
female-to buzz off, when the light flashed on, and the girl in the cushy 
towel just barely covering her stood there, dazzingly bright in her near 
nakedness-those long legs, those magnificent boobs (for it was Veronica, of 
course) threatening to overflow the towel-and he found he couldn't say a 
word. 

"I need a big strong man to help me get my door open. How about you?" she 
asked Terry. 

"Sure!" he said, hopping out of bed before the word was completely out of 
his mouth. 

"Now, don't you despair," she said to Ziggy as she tripped out of the room, 
Terry following as if in a trance. 

There were three unoccupied rooms, the twelve boys having been paired into 
six rooms, and it was to one of these vacant rooms that Veronica led Terry 
and asked him demurely if he would open the stuck door. So Terry put all his 
weight into a push on the door, and it opened so easily that he went 
shooting into the room. 

"Oh, thanks so much," Veronica squealed, coming into the room after him and 
closing the door behind her. "Now you'll have to stay till I get in bed, 
because I'm afraid of the dark, and the lights don't work." 

"Sure. I won't mind." 

"Here, let me find you. I want you to hold me." 

They touched hands and pulled close to each other. Suddenly Terry became 
aware that his hands were on a bare waist, and the implication of this 
struck him. 

"Where's the towel?" 

"I tossed it away. Why ?You can't see me, can you?" 

"No." His teeth started chattering. 

"Why are your teeth chattering? You cold?" 

"No, I'm just-" He was going to say he was scared, being in this room with a 
voluptuously naked girl, but girls don't like scaredy-cats, so he switched 
and said, "Yeah, I guess I am." 

"Well, I'll have to get your warm. Take this off, and this." She didn't see 
much reason for fooling around coyly, and when he, too, stood without a 
stitch on, she began rubbing him all over, which only made his teeth chatter 
all the more, and he shivered more because he was getting more scared. 

"You can rub me too," she said. 

Now Terry at last did begin to enter into the spirit of the evening. He 
started rubbing her in innocuous spots, along her waist and belly at first, 
then all over, over the. breasts, the warm, full, firm-soft breasts, and 
then he pulled her close, holding her tight, feeling her parsely patch press 
up against him, and her tremendous, titties and he at last left off 
chattering. 

She whispered in his ear, "Let's get in bed." Terry drew the blankets back, 
and they jumped between the crisp, clean sheets that the school had 
thoughtfully provided for its guests. They pulled each other close, felt the 
heat go from one body to the other and back, felt every contour along the 
length of each other's bodies, felt the sap rising within them, felt this 
was the way the world should be! 

" Veronica pulled her lover toward her and locked herself around him, locked 
her puss-puss around his long-noised little mousie, drew him toward her, 
made him a part of her, and he felt warm all over, safe, secure from all 
harm. He didn't want to leave her ever, it was so good, so good in a way he 
couldn't describe, so good in a way he could only experience. He found 
himself groaning for joy. This girl was absolutely beautiful, this girl of 
the magnificent body, the magnificent legs and breasts, the arms locked 
around his neck; this girl was marvelous beyond all measure. And as he 
rocked slowly back and forth, he felt that each rock would be his last, it 
was all so good, the girl was so warm, so inviting, pulling him ever closer 
to her, holding him tighter. Then suddenly he felt a warm glow, out to his 
toes, a warm glow that filled him, carried him on a soft wave of ecstasy 
until he thought there could be no more-and there was. 

Meanwhile,. Ziggy was happily occupied. Veronica knew what she was talking 
about when she had told him not to despair. For she had no sooner left the 
room with Terry than Barbara, with boobies bouncing, came waltzing into the 
room, and before Ziggy knew what was happening, she had crawled into bed 
with him. and had taken his pajamas off. Of course, he didn't resist very 
much, but still it was remarkable how quickly she did it. And then she was 
rubbing him all over until her hand bumped into an upright pole, and when 
that didn't bother her, didn't embarrass her, he began to think that maybe 
she'd like for him to try the same with her. So he ran his hand over her 
fur-piece that had no upright pole, and she seemed to like that, and she 
seemed to like it when he pulled her close and pressed up against her, and 
indeed, she seemed to like about everything he did, including ... 

Well, Ziggy wasn't sure how it happened, but he found himself on top, he 
found himself being drawn to that triangle of dark hair, stiff, erect, he 
found himself slowly drawn by arms, legs, lips, softness, whispers, drawn " 
to that eternal triangle, swallowed by warmth and cushiness, held closely, 
tightly, lovingly by arms and legs around him, soft hair and lips, held in 
an ecstatic embrace until he had tasted the. ultimate in ecstasy. 

It was toward midnight when Ziggy and Terry lay in their bunks smoking. They 
figured they had broken one training rule, so why not another? 

"At least we can tell the coach we were in bed, all right," Terry laughed. 

"Yeah, that we can say." 

And they lay there reminiscing over their experiences. So many times during 
the evening, they had thought the fun was over. When the first girl came in 
with the towel, they'd thought she was truly lost, and when she left, they 
thought they'd seen the last of her, and that was all. But then there was 
the girl with the phosphorescent strip-tease, and then the girls that 
crawled into bed, and then at last-WOW! Such friendly-girls they, had around 
MacIntosh U. Well, that had been enjoyable, but at last the fun was over, 
and they had to get some sleep. Or so they thought. 

They were just drifting off when the door opened, the light flipped on, and 
two girls stood there. Susan, going up to take Ziggy by the hand, said, 
"Come on, I need a strong man, I just need a big strong man." 

Thinking the fun was over and she really did need a big strong man to lift 
or move something heavy, Ziggy tagged along, but they were no sooner out of 
the room than Marsha hopped in bed with Terry to his no-little surprise, and 
started acting toward him in much the same way that the big blonde had. 

Now, these two boys didn't know what was going on outside of what happened 
to themselves. Why should they have been wondering if the other guys were 
getting their fair share? So Terry just figured he had something these girls 
liked, if two of them wanted to hop in bed with him, and he wasn't going to 
question it. It didn't occur to him that this was happening to the other 
guys (besides Ziggy), and that the girls wanted to get them all groggy from 
sexing before the game. Why should he have been thinking of a basketball 
game at a time like that? 

Furthermore, Terry was greatly pleased to find he was strong and capable so 
soon after a first encounter. He had never been In a second such 
circumstance before, but now with this girl rolling over him, pressing her 
naked body against him, he found he did stand firm and tall. Zowle! 

This time he took longer, indeed, took very long, but the girl didn't seem 
to mind. She stayed with him, rocking back and forth, rolling a little from 
side to side, biting his earlobe, whispering In his ear, holding him close. 
OH! 

Ziggy, in the meantime, was going through much the same experience. "Twice 
in one night! Twice in one night!" he kept saying to himself. And now the 
girls were running around indiscriminately, grabbing whatever guys they 
could find. There were, after all, twelve players to be taken care of, and 
only five girls. 

"Oops, pardon me!" one girl said when she flipped on a light on a couple 
whose very intimate parts were just about to meet in a very intimate way. 

A haggard-looking boy was dragging himself down the corridor to the John 
when Veronica came upon him. "Come on, hot-shot!" she said 
straightforwardly. "I need a man." 

"Aw, now really," the poor fellow begged off. "I was just with a girl." 

"Well, what of it? A healthy young fellow like you should be game for a 
second time." 

"Second! This would be my fourth!" 

Veronica let him go, and indeed, pretty soon the girls had no more boys to 
run to. They had all been taken care of. And so, with a feeling of mission 
accomplished, the girls put on their warm winter clothes and went home. 

The next day, the home-town rooters went mad with a frenzy of excitement. 
MacIntosh U. got control of the ball right away and carried it right on down 
to a field goal. Then, in short order, they got two more and led 6-0, and it 
was about this time that the fans started warming up. No one yet expected 
them to win, but if they could get off to a good start, the drubbing might 
not be too bad, and it would be a moral victory. 

State U. got a few goals, of course, but they couldn't-seem to break the 
forward movement of MacIntosh, and the first thing anybody knew, it was 
22-10 in favor of the hosts. And now a few people began to wonder if 
MacIntosh was going to win, after all. The early lead didn't seem to be such 
a fluke as it first appeared, for the game had gone on ten minutes, and 
MacIntosh was pulling even further ahead. 

Now the fans screamed and shouted whenever the home team made a basket. They 
were with their boys all the way, calling for a bloody reprisal for all the 
drubbings State U. had handed them, and as they approached the half, there 
was no one in the building-including the State U. boys-who didn't think 
MacIntosh might win. After all, with a lead of 61-27, they were looking 
pretty good. 

But nobody could quite understand what had happened to the visiting team. 
True, the home team was playing a snappy game with particular flair, and 
against a mediocre team, this would have been sufficient to explain the 
score. But this was against State U., and nobody would heretofore have 
called them mediocre. 

Yet the center seemed unable to jump more than a few feet off the floor, the 
guards were slow in moving down to defend the basket and didn't guard a 
thing, and the forwards weren't very forward. It was a lethargic, 
slow-moving team, and Coach Tetmiller was driven to frenzy, yelling at them 
from the sidelines to get going, get the lead out of their asses. He was 
absolutely red in the face. But it did no good. 

At half-time, there was frank jubilation in the MacIntosh U. dressing room. 
The boys weren't afraid of jeopardizing their game by being happy. They knew 
they had it made that day, and they knew they were going to go out and wrap 
up that game in the second half. But over in the other dressing room, there 
was a heavy air of gloom. 

At first Tetmiller couldn't even speak, he was so choked with rage. Finally, 
when he could speak, what came out wasn't rage; it was a plea from the 
humblest depths within him. "All right, you guys, what is it? Just tell me 
what it is, please. Just to satisfy my curiosity." 

There wasn't a player there who didn't know what the trouble was, there 
wasn't a single one who didn't realize that they had been duped by the girls 
the night before. Yet, there wasn't a single one that intended to talk, so 
they all sat glumly while Coach Tetmiller pleaded. 

"And I thought they liked me," Terry said to himself. "Damn!" 

Suddenly Tetmiller exploded and practically blew the roof off. "TELL ME WHAT 
IT IS! You bunch of lead-footed, lead-assed nincompoops. You look like my 
grandmother running after the mailman. You look like you're afraid of 
hurting somebody's feelings. "I'M GOING TO FIND OUT WHY YOU GUYS WON'T GET 
MOVING! You, Terry, you don't get two feet off the floor; it's like you have 
glue on your shoes. Maybe you do. Here, let me look." 

He picked up Terry's left foot and examined the sole of the shoe with mock 
seriousness, then dropped it. "Naw, that ain't it. BUT WHAT THE HELL IS IT?" 

Now he went along to each player, making specific references to their 
brains, their feet, their rear-ends, their energy, their ancestry. He yelled 
at them, cajoled them, threatened them, pleaded with them, barked at them, 
wooed them, begged them; did, in fact, everything he could think of doing. 
Then, with an air of resignation, he sent them out for the second half. 

The talk might have done a little good. In the first half, MacIntosh U. had 
run up a lead of 34 points. In the second half, they stretched that lead 
only another 20 points, and polished off the game 99 to 45. 

The stands went wild. The band played, the cheerleaders yelled, the players 
hoisted Bradley up on their shoulders and paraded him around the court. 

If they had the people who really deserve the credit, he thought, they'd be 
carrying around five girls. Nevertheless, he knew that such could hardly be, 
so he grinned broadly and accepted the congratulations of the crowd. 

 10 

"MISS JELLICOE," WHEELOCK SAID STERNLY, "if you're going to run around the 
Student Union in the altogether with one of your boy friends, you'll just 
have to do it for me, too." He pursed his mouth, shook his head and said, 
"No, no. that won't do." He walked away from the mirror and sat down. 

For two weeks now, he had been able to think of little but Miss Jellicoe. He 
wanted to approach her and say something to her, anything, just to break the 
ice, but he just didn't know how. And so he had practiced this and that in 
front of the mirror, and nothing seemed just right-and understandably so. 

It was not only that he was inexperienced with women. What was worse, he had 
always put Miss Jellicoe on a pedestal. She had always represented for him 
all that was feminine, pure and womanly-and then suddenly to find her naked, 
knowing there was a boy friend hovering in the background somewhere, was 
almost more than he could bear. It was almost as if he had suddenly seen his 
mother naked. 

Of course, he had retained something of a sense of humor about it. He had to 
admit that he was deliberately chasing a naked female, and did want to find 
the female in a naked state, so by what right could he condemn her? And as a 
matter-of-fact, he didn't condemn her. He was only surprised, that's all, 
maybe a little disheartened. But mostly what bothered him was simply that he 
wanted to tell Miss Jellicoe that he liked her, that he wanted to see her 
again, and he didn't know how to go about doing it. 

Now he got up and went to the mirror again. "Miss Jellicoe-but may I call 
you Jane?-I want you, I want you now, wrapped around me!" He laughed when he 
had said that, for it wasn't at all like him, and he knew he could never say 
that. Now he looked in the mirror a-gain and tried a quite different 
approach. "Miss Jellicoe, your charm has enchanted me, and I respectfully 
request the honor of your company for dinner tomorrow night." His face lit 
up. "That's it! If she laughs, I'll act like I was kidding, and if she takes 
it all with a straight face, I'll play it straight too. That's it!" 

And then, before he could lose his enthusiasm, he grabbed his hat and coat 
and started walking toward Miss Jellicoe's apartment. "Charmed!" he said, 
"Enchanted. Have the honor-or should it be pleasure-of your company." He 
giggled to himself. The phrases sounded silly, but if they worked, then they 
worked. 

So it was with a full heart and a joyful face that he bounded up the steps 
in her apartment building and pushed her buzzer. But as soon as he saw her 
beautiful face, he lost all courage and could only say, "Miss Jellicoe!" 

"Why, President Wheelock! Come in." 

He walked in, stood there, and again said, "Miss Jellicoe." 

"Here, let me take your hat and coat. And sit down." 

He relinquished those garments, sat down and said, "Miss Jellicoe." 

"Here, let me take your suit coat," she said. 'You might as well be 
comfortable." 

He wriggled out of that, let her have It, and said, "Miss Jellicoe." 

Now Jane Jellicoe had one of those strokes of genius that separate the 
intelligent from the stupid. She could have waited demurely to see what he 
wanted. She might even have thrown herself on his mercy and pleaded that 
that episode in the Student Union was totally unlike her, had never happened 
before and would never happen again. Or she could have acted femininely 
seductive and let him carry her off to bed, after which he could hardly have 
censured her for the earlier episode. 

But she had that flash of insight. He hadn't come to chide her; he had 
indeed come to seduce her, to sweep her off her feet, but would never be 
able to do it. This she suddenly knew with a certainty, and without losing 
her rhythm, she decided she was going to seduce him straight forwardly, 
without guile or coyness. 

"Here, let me take your tie. And your shoes." 

"Miss Jellicoe," was all he could think of to say as she took off those 
incidental garments. His voice was getting husky. 

"And this shirt. My, it's so warm in here, isn't it?" 

"Oh, Miss Jellicoe." He looked at her with wide, grateful eyes, still unable 
to say anything more. 

Out went one light, then another, until there came only a faint glow from 
the kitchen to cast a romantic luminosity on the lovers. 

"Your socks now. And while we're at It, these woolly old trousers.' 

He let her take them off, as if he were a baby being undressed by his 
mother. And he could only say softly, gratefully, "Oh, Miss Jellicoe." 

"And this T-shirt, now." 

"Oh, Miss Jellicoe." 

"And your skivvies." 

"Oh! Miss Jellicoe!" 

But he didn't resist. He let her pull them down, then he sat there friskily 
naked and curiously unashamed. 

"Well, are you going to let me stand here with all my clothes on?" 

"Oh,-Miss Jellicoe!" 

"First my shoes ... now my stockings. Yes, you've got to reach up, attaboy, 
and unhook them, that's, right, now roll them down slowly." 

"Ohhh, Miss Jellicoe." 

"My sweater and then my skirt." 

"Uh, Miss Jellicoe ... " 

He was getting a little nervous now. Her sweater had no blouse under it, and 
there she was her in undies. He had not really dreamed that he would get 
this far. But apparently there was yet to be more undressing. 

"Now the brassiere." 

"Ohhh, Miss Jellicoe." it was a delight he had hardly hoped for, and now as 
he saw her flesh naked and glowing above the waist, he felt himself growing 
weak. 

He was still standing behind her, so she reached behind, got both his hands, 
and put them on her waist. "Hook your thumbs under the elastic," she said, 
and when he had done that, she added, "and now, pull down slowly." 

"Oh, Miss Jellicoe," he whispered in her ear as he pulled her last two 
garments halfway down over her delightful pink fanny. Then he stopped. 

"Well," she whispered. "I'm waiting." 

He had his thumbs hooked under the elastic of both the half-slip and, the 
panties, so now when he pulled further, they both fell to the ground-and she 
stood dazzingly naked. Now she took his hands and ran them all over her 
body, and he could only shout out: "OH, MISS JELLICOE!! !" 

Now she turned around and faced him, kissed him, pulled herself close, and 
whispered, "Are you going to make me walk all the way into the bedroom?" 

He got the message. He picked her up, like a strong man of yore, and carried 
her straight Into the bed. It was the first masculine act he had done thus 
far, and Miss Jellicoe need that much-at least a symbolic gesture of manhood 
on his part Now, as she felt herself held by strong arms and as she pressed 
against that sturdy chest, it was enough, It was enough. And she knew she 
was going to enjoy him. 

He was an inexperienced-but by no means frightened lover-as she had known 
some swaggering men to be. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, but he 
learned quickly. And now he had an arm around her waist and both hands on 
her buns, pulling her lower section toward him, her furplece toward his 
stiff piece, pressing his chest against her tittie-tips, delighting In her 
tongue (It was a new experience for him) and even trying a few forays with 
his own tongue. 

The he felt her pulling him on top of her, and he resisted a little; he 
didn't know why, but maybe he just wasn't ready. Whatever the reason, his 
resistance didn't last long. He let himself go. He let himself be drawn Into 
the abyss, Into warmth and delight and love, into flesh and security and 
softness, Into all that made him feel wonderful, made him feel that life is 
beautiful. 

He held her close, buried his face against her neck, felt her soft hair 
brush against his face, felt her soft breasts press against his chest, felt 
her soft-stiff hair pressed against his belly. And as they rocked back and 
forth, he could only whisper, "Oh, Miss Jellicoe. Oh, oh, oh, Miss 
Jellicoe." 

Then he felt himself grow weak all over, grow cushy all over; he felt a 
suffusion of ecstasy take hold of his body and carry it to heights of 
delight he had not dreamed of (he had been nervous with Veronica), and then 
when he thought he had reached the highest, he burst with a dazzling spray 
of joy and slowly floated back to earth and bed and the arms of his 
beautiful paramour. 

Afterward, they sat In bed smoking cigarettes. Wheelock was still unable to 
talk and express himself, only now from a fullness of love and affection 
rather than from being scared. And then at last he took one hand, leaned 
over and kissed her in gratitude and said, "Oh, Miss Jellicoe." 

"Don't you. think you can call me Jane by now?" she asked. 

"Yes, yes," he said eagerly. And then he said, "Oh, Jane!" 

 11 

JEFFREY HAD BECOME FRIENDLY WITH CHAR-lie, as was bound to happen. The 
student body was small, and it was inevitable that the two athletes would 
meet. Now, since Susan and Jeffrey seldom met on campus, Charlie had never 
seen them together, and Susan had refused to tell him the name of her number 
one boy friend. Jeffrey, on his part, didn't talk about Susan to anyone. He 
wasn't trying to keep it a secret, exactly-yet, in a way he was. She was 
very precious to him, and he hated the way some boys often talked of their 
girl friends. So he said nothing about Susn-or abut Miss Jellicoe. 

The upshot was that Charlie didn't have the faintest idea that Jeffrey was 
the rival who had bested him. And when he invited Jeffrey to supper one 
evening along with a few other fellows, he little thought he was going to 
set off such a dramatic turn of events. 

Now, it happened that Charlie had a picture of Susan, which he kept propped 
on his desk-for after all, she was dear to him, though he had had to 
relinquish first place on her list. And the picture was visible from Just 
about anywhere in the room, the result being that Jeffrey hadn't been In the 
apartment two minutes when he saw the picture. 

He went over to it, feeling a little queasy inside. "Hey, who's this?" he 
asked, not knowing exactly why he'd asked in that way, when he knew damn 
well who it was. 

'Aw,' Charlie said, "that's Just some broad who comes over here to get laid. 
She says her number one boy friend won't touch her." 

Jeffrey felt so weak he thought for a moment he was going to be sick. He sat 
down in the chair. He wanted to get up and run out, but didn't know if he 
had the energy. 

"She won't tell me who this guy is," Charlie went on, happily unaware of the 
effect he was producing. "Now I ask you, what kind of guy is that? Hey! 
What's the matter? You're green! And you haven't even eaten my cooking yet. 
Are you all right?" 

Jeffrey was too weak to answer. A wave of nausea swept over him, and when it 
had passed and he felt his strength returning, he suddenly got up and ran 
out of the apartment Just as the other guests were arriving. 

"Hey, what's the matter with Jeffrey?" one asked. "He ran past us without a 
word. He looked as if he was running from the Devil himself." 

"I don't know," Charlie said. "He went over there, asked me something about 
Susan's picture, sat down looking green, and then ran out." 

"Holy Christ!" one of the boys exclaimed. "How come you've got Susan's 
picture?" 

"Cause. Why shouldn't I. She's my girl, sort of." 

"Well, I'll tell you why he looked green. Because that's his girl. He 
doesn't talk about her much, but 

I've seen them together lots of times." 

"His girl?" Charlie queried weakly. "HIS GIRLS And I told him-" But he 
couldn't bring himself to tell the other boys exactly what he had said to 
Jeffrey. He could only say, "Well, Kee-rist! What do you suppose I should do 
now?" 

"What can you do? He knows she's two-timing him now. How are you going to 
deny that?" 

Charlie had to admit that he didn't know, and reluctantly returned to his 
task of getting supper for the group that was now to be a threesome instead 
of a foursome. They talked about this and that, and Charlie tried to keep up 
his end of the conversation, but his mind was far away, and when he was 
finally able to get his guests out the door, he breathed a sigh of relief. 

As soon as they were around the corner, he dashed out the door himself. He 
had to see Jeffrey. He didn't know what he would say. That what he'd said 
about Susan wasn't really true? No, that wouldn't convince him. That he 
would give Susan up? Yes! Now that he thought of it, that's just what he 
would promise! He hadn't minded tapping another guy's girl as long as that 
other guy was an anonymous nonentity, but now that he knew it was Jeffrey 
... well, he just never could be comfortable again with Susan, so he would 
promise that. 

But Jeffrey wasn't in his room, and his roommate said he hadn't seen him 
since before supper. Charlie wandered out and around the campus. Then, on a 
whim, he called on Susan and induced her to come out for a walk. 

"Susan," he finally said as they walked along the open area of the 
quadrangle. "Yes, Charlie." 

"Why didn't you tell me Jeffrey was your boy friend?" 

She stopped short. "How did you find out?" 

"He was over at my apartment tonight. He's sort of a friend of mine-or at 
least, he was. And he saw your picture." 

"Oh, God!" 

"Susan, it's worse than that." 

"How can it be worse?" 

He feared to tell her, and yet he knew he had to. "Susan, he looked at your 
picture and said, "Who's this?" and I told him you were a girl who came over 
to get laid because your boy friend wouldn't touch you." 

Charlie hung his head now while Susan wailed, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! How 
could you have said such a stupid thing?!" 

He hung his head still further. "I don't know. I really don't know. It just 
came out. Susan, if there's anything I can do to make up for this, I'll 
gladly do it. Maybe there is one thing I'll give you up. That's how much I 
want to prove to you that I didn't mean any harm. And besides, I couldn't 
lay you any more, knowing it's Jeffrey. He's my buddy-or was. And the second 
thing: if I could ... if I could ... well, bring you and Jeffrey together 
... ! mean, in every way ... that would be sort of funny for me to do, but I 
feel it would vindicate me." 

Susan was hardly listening to him ramble on. Her mind was too full of 
everything, and she had her hand to her forehead. At last she said 
resignedly, "Well, let's go see Jeffrey and see what can be done." 

"I was just there, and he wasn't in his room, but maybe he's come back." 

But he hadn't. His roommate said he hadn't seen hide nor hair of him, and 
Charlie and Susan were forced to wander around some more. It was a balmy 
evening in early spring, and normally there would have been nothing more 
pleasurable; but each had such a heavy heart that there was no joy between 
them. They stumbled along, saying almost nothing, except, "Wanna cigarette?" 
or "Watch out there." When they went back some time later to check on 
Jeffrey, he still wasn't there, and finally Susan had to go in, for girls 
had curfew hours. 

Charlie kept checking back until two o'clock, but decided by then that he 
might as well turn in for the night. Wherever Jeffrey was, Charlie couldn't 
help him by wandering around. 

When Charlie awoke the next morning, he knew immediately that he had a heavy 
load on his mind, and it took him a couple of minutes to realize just what 
it was. Then it hit him. Of course! Jeffrey had to be found. And if anything 
had happened to him ... Charlie shuddered. Then, in a minute, he was up, 
dressed and on his way. 

He was headed for Jeffrey's dorm, but on his way, he found a small crowd 
milling about the tower. "Hey, what's up?" he asked the first fellow he came 
to. 

"That crazy fool," the fellow said, pointing up. 

Along a ledge of the tower, just below the clock, at least a hundred feet 
above ground, was the figure of a young man in an open-necked white shirt 
and dark trousers. He stood with his back to the tower, facing the milling 
specks on the ground, his arms out-stretched, his hands flat against the 
bricks. 

"Gosh!" Charlie said. "I wonder why-" Then his heart dropped to the pit of 
his stomach and his blood froze. "Jeff!" he croaked hollowly. Then he began 
yelling for all he was worth. 

"Jeff! Jeff! It's going to be all right! Everything's all right! Can you 
hear me? Susan-she loves you! We're through! It's going to be all right, can 
you hear me?" 

"I don't want any favors from you, Charlie," he yelled back. 

Charlie groaned and started running back and forth, throwing his arms in the 
air. "Jeff I Listen, I'll do anything, anything you say. Look, I'll get down 
on my knees." He did get down on his knees and raise his arms to Jeffrey. "I 
beg of you, Jeff, let me talk to you! Give it a day, will you? There's no 
coming back once you-Jeff, can you hear me?" 

"Go away, Charlie," Jeffrey yelled. "Everybody, go away. It won't be a 
pretty sight. Or is that why you're standing around-to see the splash and 
splatter? Ha!" 

"Jeff! Jeff! Nobody wants to see you jump. Do you hear me? Go back in, go 
back in that window, and I'll come up and get you." Charlie turned around to 
the other students. "Has anybody gone up the stairs?" 

"Yeah, I went all the way up," said one fellow with a worried look on his 
face. "He's got the door locked. He yelled out that he'd jump if I broke it 
down. So what was I gonna do. I didn't know if he was telling the truth or 
not, and I sure as hell didn't wanna be the guy that pushed him over the 
brink." 

"No," Charlie mused slowly. Suddenly he broke a-way from the crowd and 
started running. He just had to find Susan. Perhaps she would turn the 
trick. And as he ran, he found himself hoping, praying that Jeffrey would 
hold on those few minutes longer; wondering if he himself would feel he'd 
deserted Jeffrey at a crucial moment if he did jump; wondering if he would 
feel guilty, yet knowing at the same time that he would feel a sense of 
relief at not having been a witness to the fall. 

He roused Susan out of bed-by way of the housemother, of course-and when she 
came sleepy-eyed into the living room, he said, "Get your coat, and hurry!" 

"What is it? Is it Jeffrey?" 

"Get your coat," he repeated. "I'll explain on the way. C'mon-hustle I" 

Susan finally heeded the imperative tone in his voice and got her coat, and 
they were soon on their way, hurrying-not talking, despite Charlie's 
promise-each imagining the worst, though Charlie's vision was naturally a 
little more vivid and specific. 

At last they got there. When Susan looked up and saw Jeffrey standing with 
his back to the tower, poised to jump, she stifled a scream, then just 
crumpled in a heap. 

"Jeffrey!" Charlie yelled. "Do you see what you did? Susan loves ya, can't 
you see that? She just crashed when she saw you up there! Can you imagine 
what it would do if she saw you spread out down here? It would completely 
blow her mind, man. Do you hear me? 

"I don't need any lectures from you, Charlie." 

"It's not a lecture. I'm just telling you the score. Now go back in that 
window, you hear? We'll be buddies, and you'll have Susan. Cripes, man, do 
you hear what I tell you? Things'll be better than ever before!" 

"You'd better go to class, Charlie." 

"Oh, sweet Jesus, what do we do now?" he groaned. 

Now Susan was nearly revived by some students who had patted her wrists. She 
sat up dazedly, collected her wits, then stood up and implored Jeffrey: 
"Jeff, come down! Everything can be explained, don't you understand? We 
can-I can explain everything, if you'll give me a chance." 

"Oh, I'm certain you can," he said sarcastically. 

Charlie ran and stood right below Jeffrey. "Okay, look, Jeff. If you jump, 
you're going to hit me. From that height, you'd kill me too. Okay? Do you 
understand?" 

"Don't make me cry, Charlie." 

Charlie groaned. Now Susan came up to him. "All three of us, Jeffrey," she 
yelled. But she had really come up to talk to Charlie. "Look, if we could 
get a-plank, maybe somebody could crawl over to the tower from the 
administration building and grab hold-" 

Charlie walked back to his former vantage point and surveyed the situation. 
The administration building came close to the tower at one point, and a long 
plank extended from a fourth-floor window could easily reach the ledge of 
the tower. Yes, it could be done. But how much time did they have? 

Well, it was a chance they would have to take. It was obvious they weren't 
doing much good by arguing and pleading. It would be awfully risky for Susan 
to try grabbing hold of Jeffrey, of course, but Charlie might manage it. But 
then, Susan might do better pleading at close range where she could say much 
more without fear of being overheard. 

A new library was being built, and there were numerous planks abouts, so 
Charlie picked up a good, long, stout one, and with Susan offering perhaps 
more hindrance than help, he hoisted it on his shoulders and carried it up 
the three flights of the administration building. They found a hall window 
that proved to be just the right height, and forced it open. Charlie began 
to inch the plank out to the tower ledge. And now Susan became a great help, 
for the plank began to get unwieldy when they had nine feet out in the air 
and only three feet to hang on to. So at Charlie's side she hung on tight, 
and they finally got it out and securely onto the ledge. 

Some of the people on the ground had pointed to the plank, so Jeffrey-still 
with his back to the tower-came inching his way around until he could see 
what it was that had caught their Interest. And now he stood facing the two 
who had inadvertently led him to seek the precarious perch he was perched 
on. 

"Jeffrey," Susan pleaded, in a soft, sweet tone. "Come back. Please go in 
that window and unlock the door. I'm not going to see Charlie any more, do 
you understand? You're the only one I want to see, and I'm saying that right 
in front of him." 

"Your sudden concern for me touches my heart," he sneered. 

"Oh, Jeffrey, Jeffrey," she wailed. "Look, if you don't climb in the window 
and unlock the door, I'm going to come over there and pull you in, do you 
understand?" 

"Oh, you two are so brave and concerned now. But you're not worried about 
me. You're only worried about how guilty you'd feel if I jumped. Well, maybe 
I will jump-ha, ha-and let you feel guilty-ha, ha!" 

Susan climbed out on the plank. Jeffrey's eyes got big as saucers, and now 
he pleaded with her: "Don't Susan, don't be a fool!" 

"I must, Jeffrey, if this is the only way to show you I mean what I say, if 
this is the only way to show you I love you." 

"It's not the only way. Go back!" Now Jeffrey edged along to a window, got 
his rump over the sill, and fell backward onto the floor inside. Then he ran 
to the window directly above the plank and pleaded with the crawling girl 
again. "Look, Susan, I'm inside now. I'll get down, I swear I will, if 
you'll only go back! Will you? I believe you now, I believe everything you 
say!" 

Susan stopped, but she found that she couldn't go backward and couldn't turn 
around. "I can't go back, Jeffrey," she wailed, "I'll have to come on." She 
was about a third of the way over now. 

"All right, come on," Jeff said tensely. He leaned out the window and held 
one end of the plank firmly. "Hang on, Charlie," he yelled. "Don't let it 
tilt, for Christ sakes. Susan, just keep coming, don't look down, just look 
at me." He looked down himself and found it more frightening than when he 
had been standing on the ledge. 

"How'm I doing?" she yelled to Jeffrey when she was halfway. 

"Just fine. Now keep looking at me, Just keep coming, atta girl." 

"Jeffrey, you know I love you." 

"Yes, Susan, yes. I believe you now, and I love you too. Oh, God, I do love 
you. Now don't talk, just keep coming." 

She was doing so well that she looked down to see how far up she was. Then 
she stopped short. "Jeffrey, I feel sick." 

She was still just short of an arm's reach out. He felt the plank teeter 
precariously and felt a little sick himself. But he knew he had to talk her 
in. "AU right, Susan. Just don't think about it. Just a little more, just 
put one knee forward, then a hand. Atta girl." 

She was so close he could look deep into the blue of her eyes. She wasn't 
afraid now and only seemed to want to tell him again that she loved him. She 
was within an arm's length now, but Jeffrey feared to reach out and grab 
hold. It might give her a false sense of security, and he didn't know if he 
could hold on if she fell while she was that far out, so he kept talking her 
in. 

"Okay, Susan, you're almost here, just keep on the way you're been doing, 
that's a way, just a few more steps, okay, now." 

He braced himself, and when she got right to the 

"window, he caught her by both arms and yanked her in. They both fell back 
on the interior platform as the plank fell a hundred feet and bounced on the 
ground below. 

Jeffrey was beside himself, crying, laughing, kissing, exulting. Then, when 
the initial exultation was over, he just buried his head in her shoulder and 
let himself cry. He hadn't known it was in him to cry so profusely or so 
unashamedly. But it was such a relief to have her safe and in his arms that 
he just let himself go, and it felt good. 

Then at last he was able to stop and say, "Susan, I didn't know I loved you 
so much. If you had fallen, I would've jumped right after you, I swear to 
God I would've." 

"Well, it was the only way I could show you how much I loved you. You just 
wouldn't believe me." 

Jeffrey hung his head and said huskily, "I believe you now, Susan." Then he 
lifted his head and said, "Oh, God, you are a marvel, Susan. Can I ever be 
worthy of you?" 

"Oh, don't talk nonsense. You're worth ten times more than I am." 

He didn't want to argue about a matter like that, so he simply buried his 
head in her neck again and relaxed. And his heart was full. ft was like a 
honeymoon that night. Since they had both had a hair's breadth escape from 
death, and since they had discovered their love for each other, it was just 
assumed that they would spend the night together. Even Susan's housemother 
offered no objection, though she could hardly make an open acknowledgement. 

The only question was where. Neither Susan nor 

Jeffrey had an off-campus apartment. Charlie did, and "would have been happy 
to let them have it for a night or a week-but in consideration of the nights 
Susan had spent there with him, he knew it would be in poor taste to offer 
it. Similarly, there was Coach Bradley's house, where Susan had also 
frolicked, and Miss Jellicoe's, where Jeffrey had frolicked.. Any of those 
occupants would have been glad to give up their abodes temporarily, but knew 
they could hardly offer. A motel was possible, but Jeffrey and Susan knew it 
would give a fly-by-night aspect to what was going to be anything but a 
fly-by-night relationship. 

At last the perfect offer came-by way of Charlie, who got the word by way of 
Miss Jellicoe, who got it from the offering party. Susan and Jeffrey knew 
nothing of this. They were sitting on a bench by the lagoon in the early 
evening, holding hands, looking into each other's eyes, and sighing from 
time to time, when Charlie appeared suddenly before them and handed Jeffrey 
a slip of paper. 

"Here, go to this address." 

"This address?' Jeffrey repeated, looking surprised. 

"You'll have a whole house to yourselves. Nobody's going to. ask where you 
are until about this time tomorrow night." 

Jeffrey hung his head. He was the only person on the campus who hadn't 
automatically assumed that he would spend the night with Susan. And now, 
though he knew she had previously rolled in the hay with Charlie, and though 
she had protested her love for Jeffrey indeed, had risked her life to show 
it-he wasn't sure she would want to go to bed with him. So he asked softly, 
"Susan, do you want to?" 

"Oh God!" She took his head in both her hands, gave him a soul-searing kiss 
and said, "How much I could never say !" 

Charlie ran his hand over Jeffrey's hair, mussing it. "Don't be an idiot, 
Jeff. The girl's in love with you. Now, you just go to this address, be 
happy, and don't ask any questions." 

They walked down Oak Street, and soon realized they were getting into the 
ritzy section of town. Then, following the winding street, they came to the 
address-a large, white, stucco mansion. They were even more surprised when, 
after ringing the doorbell, the door opened and there stood- 

"President Wheelock!" Jeffrey said, aghast. 

"In person," he said joyfully. "Come in. There's been no mistake. Here, 
Susan, are two presents for you-not from me, so don't thank me, and don't 
ask any questions. Just enjoy yourselves. The house is yours, food's in the 
icebox, don't answer the phone, don't answer the doorbell. Good night, my 
beautiful ones. I'M be back about supper time tomorrow." 

With that, he was gone. He had been all ready and waiting for them for a 
half-hour, so he didn't want to stick around. Now Susan went over to look at 
her presents. There was a bottle of perfume and a diaphanous, smoke-blue 
negligee. 

"Oh, Jeffrey!" She turned around and hugged him. For with these two gifts, 
she suddenly felt she was going to be beautiful for him, and she envisioned 
it all. There was going to be no cheap stuff, no teasing or tempting, hiding 
a little, showing a little, as she had done with the football boys. She was 
going to ask Jeffrey to wait, and then she would undress, dab herself with 
the perfume, and put on the sheer negligee. Then, in the dim light, she 
would call him to her. It was all going to be so beautiful. 

Now, hand in hand, they went exploring the house. They were in no hurry, so 
they went to the kitchen first, then to the pantry, the dining room-even on 
an impulse, to the cellar. Then, slowly, still hand-in-hand, they went up to 
the second floor, found three bedrooms, and bounced on the beds. 

All the rooms seemed satisfactory, so they picked the largest one. Then 
Susan shoved Jeffrey out and said she would call for him. She found a 
bathroom with a box of bubble bath powers (Wheelock, the old dog, had bought 
them for Miss Jellicoe, who had spent a few nights there). Now she filled 
the tub, stepped daintily into the hot sudsy water, and relaxed. 

It had indeed been quite a day, and she hadn't realized how tired she was, 
so she remained motionless a few moments. But she had a lover waiting for 
her, so she didn't take too long. When she stepped out she dried herself on 
a fluffy towel, then reached for the perfume bottle, and dabbed the cooling 
liquid on her wrists, her breasts, behind her ears, on her neck. Then she 
donned the negligee, pirouetted before the mirror, and went out to call her 
lover. 

"Jeff !" she cooed softly from the top of the stairs. 

He appeared at the foot, magazine in hand, promptly dropped the magazine and 
started slowly up the stairs, his eyes shining. 

She was shimmering in the soft light. Now Jeffrey stood looking at her for a 
moment, then ran his hands up and down her arms and over her back. He kissed 
her and felt that young, yearning body up close to his. He picked her up, 
carried her into the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. 

"Take off your clothes," she said softly. 

"I'm scared." 

"Why?" 

"Cause. You're so beautiful, and I'm ... well, boys without clothes aren't 
as beautiful as girls without clothes." 

"Maybe you will be to me. Take off your clothes, Jeffrey." 

He smiled gratefully at her, then stripped down to his shorts. They sat side 
by side now on the bed. Jeffrey ran his hands across her belly, pulled her 
toward him and kissed her. Her body was warm and soft under the filmy gown. 

"Take off my negligee," she whispered. There was a string-bow at the neck. 
Jeffrey untied this and drew the gown open at the neckline. She was bare all 
the way down the middle. 

"Anything else to untie?" 

"That's all. Now, take it off." 

He drew it over her shoulders, she wriggled her arms out, and the gown fell 
back on the bed. She sat there like a while lily, upright and pure. Jeffrey 
let his gaze wander over this beauty, and he felt his breath taken from him. 

"Take these off," she said softly, tugging at the waistband of his shorts. 

"Gosh." He was reluctant at first, but he took them off, and they sat 
side-by-side on the bed-much as he sat about a year earlier with Miss 
Jellicoe, though such a comparison hardly came to mind now. He knew only 
that there was something exquisitely beautiful about this tender blossom, 
this white flower. " 

"Let's get in bed," she whispered. 

They slid between the sheets and began fondling each other, pressed close. 
Jeffrey ran his hands over that slim body, the small, but perfect breasts, 
over the furpiece that always struck him as such an anomaly on a young girl, 
though he knew it had to be there. 

They rested a while, kissed, nuzzled, snuggled. Then the kisses began 
getting deeper, longer. Her body was pressed against his, moss against boss, 
breasts against chest.. Her fingers ran along his back and arms. 

Jeffrey just closed his eyes, and felt himself being carried up to a realm 
where the clouds were swirling. He felt himself being rocked about so 
delightfully, he thought he would explode. (He didn't know she was pulling 
him over on top of her.) And then he felt himself being enveloped by her-her 
arms around him, her legs around him, her lips on his, her pussy around his 
so-sensitive cock-a warm, soft, cavern that slid up to take him all the way 
in and then he was truly part of her, part of this wonderful being. And 
though he had thought he was nearly ready to explode before, now there was 
no worry. He was confident, sure of himself, part of her, one body rocking 
back and forth, though it had two voices, two groans in rhythm. Then, 
together, they floated up, reached that high peak of ecstasy where they were 
truly one being united for all eternity in beauty and in love, that high 
peak of ecstasy beyond which there could be no greater bliss. Then, slowly, 
like being wafted about on a parachute, they floated back and landed gently 
on earth, where they realized that these were after all, two separate bodies 
that eventually would have to be disentangled. 

They lay side by side on their backs now, not speaking, not able to speak. 
Jeffrey felt too full of joy to be able to say all he wanted to say. The 
thought occurred to him that 24 hours earlier he had wanted to kill himself, 
and he shuddered. It didn't seem real now, but this tender blossom next to 
him did seem real in all her youthful beauty. . 

Now she snuggled close to him, her body pressed against his side. "What are 
you thinking?" 

"Oh," Jeffrey mused, "if I said I was thinking about how much I love you, it 
wouldn't be half of what I feel. But let me Just say It, Susan-I love you, 
love you, love you." 

 12 

THE BASKETBALL TEAM DIDN'T WIN THEM ALL. For one thing, the later teams came 
better prepared for MacIntosh, and some of them were pretty tough. And of 
course, MacIntosh couldn't play all its games at home. So the boys lost a 
few. But they did finish the season with a respectable 22-5 record, and that 
was pretty remarkable for a school that hadn't won a game the previous 
season. 

And the baseball season was coming up. Susan had dropped out of the 
entourage, but three new girls had asked to become a part of the elite pep 
squad, so that made seven in all. The three new girls were Nan, Carrie and 
Yvonne. 

And for the baseball boys, the girls had planned a two-part festival. Friday 
night, catch-and-grab in the Student Union. (They had been assured the 
complete run of the building.) Then, Saturday night, there would be a 
woodland dance in the glade. The girls had told the team members they would 
perform this dance only' if the team won, but the girls planned all along to 
give it anyway, either as a victory prize or as a consolation prize. After 
all, they already had the veils they were going to use in their dance. 

So, on Friday evening at eight o'clock, they gathered in the Union, locked 
the doors, pulled the drapes and set the rules-seven bright-eyed girls, 
fourteen bright-eyed boys, "All right," Veronica said. "Here's the game. We 
scatter. Ypu come find us. Any place in the building. When you find us, 
you've gotta hold on, and if you do, you get one piece of clothing, which 
you must bring back here. And when a girl is down to no clothing-well, we'll 
decide then what to do." Actually, Veronica wanted to say that the girl 
reduced to total nudity had to come back, put on all her clothes and wait 
for the rest of the girls, but she didn't want to discourage the boys-and 
besides, it didn't turn out that way, after all. "Now, there are twice as 
many of you as there are of us, so we'll have a hard time evading you. Count 
to ten, boys. Scatter, girls!" 

Now the girls went running helter-skelter, this way and that along the dimly 
lit corridors. Then came the boys (some having counted only to eight.) If 
one could have seen them from above, they would have looked like Greek 
maidens of long ago, fleeing from would-be ravishers who had just conquered 
the town. But if one had looked a little closer, he would have seen that the 
maidens weren't fleeing too fast, and that, indeed, they slowed down to let 
themselves be caught time to time. One would have been even more astounded 
to note that the would-be ravishers took only a small piece of clothing, 
such as a shoe or a sweater, and then retired gracefully. 

At first the girls didn't put up much of a struggle. There went a shoe, then 
another, then socks, sweaters, blouses, and skirts. Unrestricted by those 
cumbersome outer garments, the girls ran freely through the building in 
their bras and panties and slips. Now, down to just these few garments, they 
put up more of a struggle. They didn't say, "Okay, you've got me," as they 
had been doing. They struggled, squirmed, fought-all of which required that 
the boys grab hold of those wriggling lithe, bodies and hold them-well, 
wherever they thought it best to hold them. So the girls squealed and 
squirmed and said, "You don't have me yet," while hands went all over their 
bodies. Finally the exhausted girl would say, "All right," and off would 
come a half slip, or something of the sort. 

When the girls got down to one remaining garment apiece, when they had only 
the panties separating them from total nakedness, there seemed to be an 
unspoken accord among the boys. There was something truly enchanting about 
the sight of these bare-breasted beauties running along the corridors, 
across the basketball floor, into and out of offices-beauties with only that 
one skimpy garment; beauties with boobies bouncing freely; beauties who 
seemed to delight in the uninhibited near-nakedness, running, skipping, 
squealing; beauties who could be caught, on occasion, and held-and felt. 

Sometimes, the boys would stick to fooling around, holding them by the 
waist, butt-cheeks, or titties as the girls squirmed. Some of the boys set 
about pushing the panties down while the girls struggled, and the girls 
occasionally let them be pushed a little way down over their soft, bush 
twirly-whirlies before they pulled them back up and scampered away. But a 
few left the panties just halfway down over the twirly-whirlies and the 
little tufts peeking out were a more inviting and intriguing sight than 
stark nakedness would have been. 

Marsha jumped into the swimming pool to get a-way from Joe, the starting 
pitcher in the forthcoming game. And when she showed no signs of coming out, 
Joe calmly took off his clothes, piece by piece, down to his shorts, and 
dove in after her. Now the water was splashed this way and that as Joe 
almost caught her, tried again, did get hold, lost his grip, and finally 
grabbed her around the belly. After briefly exploring upward, down went his 
hands to roll off her skimpies-when again she broke free of his grasp. 

But when he got her again, instead of squirming as she had before, she 
touched him where he was most sensitive, where he would go weak if she 
touched him for very long. 

They were in shallow water now and standing almost still, in contrast to 
their former friskiness. He was behind her. He had drawn her panties down 
a-round her thighs and now his hands were on her hips, her belly, her 
parsely patch, while she held him loosely where he noticed it most, and even 
stroked him a little. 

"Marsha ... " he said weakly. "Yes, Joe." 

"I need my strength for tomorrow." 

"I know, Joe. So pull up my panties and let me go." His hands stayed where 
they were, and now he said even more weakly, "i can't." 

"Why can't you, Joe?" 

"I don't know." Now he ran his hands up over her bare skin, cupped her 
breasts in his hands, ran his thumbs over the nipples. All the while, Marsha 
was stroking him gently, and he felt himself grow prickly-warm all over, 
even in the cold water. "Marsha," he whispered. 

"Yes, Joe." 

"It's up to the girl to stop." 

"Why Joe?" 

"I dunno. Boys are supposed to be this way. It's so good. Girls are supposed 
to stop us." 

He was pressed close to her from behind, rubbing his hand over the 
curvy-soft areas of her bare skin, and she, too, felt prickly-warm all over. 
So she asked, "Can't it be just as good for a girl?" 

"I don't know. I hadn't thought of it. But if you don't stop soon-" 

He didn't finish. "What then, Joe?" 

He was groaning now, and said softly, "Marsha, if you don't stop soon, I 
won't have any strength left to pitch tomorrow." 

"Then pull up my panties and let go, and you'll be all right." 

For answer, he only clasped her tight suddenly-one hand and arm across her 
boobs, one hand on her parsely patch-and yelled out, "MARSHALL" 

Too late. 

Up on the top floor, Carrie had been cornered by Mark, the third baseman. 
Now Carrie wasn't one of the original girls of the pep squad, and it was 
just possible that she had volunteered for the night's festivities more out 
of expectation of a little sex play than out of school spirit, and it was 
just possible that she hadn't bothered to tell anybody. 

So when Carrie discovered the plush office that happened to be Miss 
Jellicoe's, she went back in search of one of boys she happened to be 
attracted to (which meant about three-fourths of the team). Coming upon 
Mark, she acted surprise, then frightened of his overwhelming masculinity. 
And then, keeping just the right distance, she ran back to the plush office. 

As she stood in the moonlight facing him, her panties rolled down to a 
little strip across her loins, she was a beautiful sight, and Mark stopped 
for a moment. He just wanted to tease himself a little, while he anticipated 
touching that smooth body, that soft flesh, running his hands over those 
knockers that sat so proudly straightforward and unashamed on her chest. How 
beautiful!! ! 

And now, as he moved toward her, she began dodging this way and that, 
pushing a chair in front of him or backing away. Her boobies were swaying 
and joggling so delightfully, that he wanted to prolong the game. 

But somehow he did catch her, and the first thing he knew, she was ripping 
off hs shirt, saying, "Here, I don't have anything on, so why should you?" 

And she was at his shoes and socks and trousers, and he said, "What the 
hell!" He hadn't expected this, and didn't know whether he was supposed to 
resist or not, but he didn't really mind. 

Then she bounded away again, like a young doe expecting to be chased, and 
they faced each other. When" he caught her again, it was by the sofa, and 
they rolled over and over on it until-- 

Mark truly didn't know how it had happened. He had not consciously taken 
down his skivvies, nor did he remember anything about her taking down her 
panties, but somehow after the rolling about, he found himself locked 
tightly between her legs, being drawn stiffly and inexorably toward her, 
indeed, he was locked in more than her legs, he was held by that age-old 
velvet trap that always holds men, held tightly, warmly there, and though 
somewhere in the back of his mind was the hazy notion that this wasn't 
supposed to happen, it certainly wasn't the dominant thought. The dominant 
thought was-WHEE!! ! He felt himself sliding into an aura of exquisite 
delight, and he just let himself slide and slide and slide, and be 
encompassed by flesh, lips, hair, everything. 

The boys lost their first game of the season. Matter of fact, they lost it 
rather badly, 12-I. Joe's fast ball didn't zip, his curve didn't break, 
nobody could hit. For Marsha and Carrie weren't the only girls who had 
carried the previous nights warm-up game a little too far. Several others 
had thought, "Well, it won't hurt for one player ... " So now, after the 
game, the girls confessed and vowed never to do such a thing again-at least 
not before a game. But that night was after a game. 

They met in the grove, which was in the valley to the rear of the school. It 
was a balmy night, unusually warm, and none of the girls were worried about 
wearing too little clothing. 

They dressed themselves in veils of sheer, gossamer fabric, but they each 
had seven veils, so no one could see through all the layers of cloth. And 
then, with most of the boys settled and a few scouts out checking to make 
certain they had not been followed, the girls went through their dance while 
the moon streamed down in all its fullness on the open glade. 

The girls had deliberately choreographed this dance to be as beautiful and 
ethereal as possible., and deliberately not sexy. Oh, of course, they 
weren't unmindful that beauty goes very nicely with eroticism and that the 
evening just conceivably could end in a rather erotic way. Nevertheless, 
they wanted to make the dance as light and beautiful as possible for them to 
perform. 

First, the girls each took off one veil, and trailing those behind them, 
they glided across the open space, weaving in and out among each other, the 
loose veils shimmering and silvery in the moonlight. Then those veils were 
wafted gently out to the boys, and the girls now each took a veil from 
another, and another intricate performance was gone through. 

Then the boys were invited to remove the third veils, and the fourth came 
off soon after by the girls own hands, and then the fifth. All this time the 
girls were weaving in and out sinuously, chanting a song, and there was 
something eerily beautiful about the scene in the moonlight. And when the 
sixth veil came off and was trailed behind the girls, the beauty was 
enhanced tenfold. For the final veil was the sheerest of all, and though at 
times in the tricky moonlight it might as well have been a thick wool 
blanket, there were other times when it might as well not have been there at 
all. 

. Which made the girls all the lovelier. They were there and yet not there, 
clothed and yet not clothed, their soft bodies and breasts schloogling 
nicely under each veil, their limbs, their faces and eyes ever-shining, 
beautiful, and almost of another world. Then that last veil came off-or 
almost off. But it was used to hide this or that, along with the aid of a 
hand or tree trunk. 

Now the boys just saw a shining whiteness of long limbs and swaying breasts, 
dark patches flashing on bodies of pure whiteness. They sat entranced, 
absolutely entranced by the scene, and where previously they had whistled or 
cheered or yelled, they now merely sat open-mouthed and appreciative of the 
whole scene. 

Then the, girls began picking off their men. 

First to go was Ron, who had gotten three hits, and apparently hadn't scored 
at all the night before, according to the notes the girls had exchanged. 
Veronica took him, as might have been expected. 

Carrie went up and threw her last veil right over Joe's head and said, 
"Gotcha!" and nakedly led the losing pitcher away, while the other boys 
stared enviously. She had come right among them and stood there naked as a 
jay bird, and they had been unable to touch her. But of course, their turns 
were coming. Not all of them would get in on the first round, of course, but 
they only had to be patient. 

Veronica now took her beau to a nook encompassed by three trees. She had 
lined it earlier with soft grass. Now they lay side-by-side, clothed and 
covered only with the last of her veils. Everything had been so quiet and 
ethereal that there was no hurried, impassioned rush to reach the ultimate 
in delight. This would have been contrary to the spirit of the evening. 
Instead, there was a desire to savor the stillness, the quietness, the 
peacefulness of the scene. 

So it was with a subdued passion, as it were, that they drew nearer to each 
other. They kissed lightly, ran fingers lightly over each other's bodies, 
sighed lightly and moved gently toward the final consummation. Even when 
they were interlocked, there was no mad rush, only a slow rocking. They 
wanted to savor every last minute of this evanescent night, wanted to feel 
themselves lifted gently and wafted about until, at last, the very nature of 
their bodies took over and carried them now to a hot fever pitch of 
excitement. Now, suddenly it was the frantic delight of their nakedness-of 
flesh, hair, lips, breasts, cock, pussy that held them and carried them on 
that cloud until there was a cloudburst. 

Carrie, for her part, being perhaps a more earthy girl than Veronica and not 
so attuned to the stillness of the night, did not spend so much time 
listening to that stillness. She held onto her man, undressed him, and in a 
short time he was deep within her, humping her tightly, warmly, lovingly 
until they, too, were carried to ecstasy. 

After all of the boys had been made happy, they, went down to the lake. The 
water was warm, and they splashed about friskily, playing tag and various 
other games they thought up. No one had brought any towels, however, so they 
had to dry themselves as best they could with their clothes. Then they went 
back to their dorms, marching along, singing a song. 

The girls used better sense before the remainder of the baseball games. 
Sometimes they got the boys worked up just before the game, and sometimes 
the night before, and once they even pulled the trick they had pulled on 
State U. (well, they didn't mind a little variety, themselves), but never 
again did they deplete the energies of their boys before a game. 

And the result was that MacIntosh U. finished off the baseball season with 
12 wins and 3 losses. 

Wheelock was feeling exceptionally good as graduation ceremonies were about 
to begin. It had been a good year for him. The football team had had a 
winning season, the basketball team had had a winning season, the baseball 
team had had a winning season, indeed, even the tennis team had come across. 
But of course, those weren't the only reasons he was feeling good. 

He was happy mostly because in the past year he had discovered-girls I And 
it had been a delightful discovery for him. Of course, he was still beset 
with some notions that had been hammered into him by his mother. He had 
asked Miss Jellicoe to marry him when he didn't really want to marry her, 
but felt he was supposed to, since he had tasted the delights of her body. 
He hadn't stopped to think that she had enjoyed herself too (he was still a 
little naive); hadn't stopped to think that he was hardly doing her a favor 
by proposing when he really didn't want to get married. 

At any rate, Miss Jellicoe had refused, and then had chided him about the 
sigh of relief he gave (he hadn't intended to). She did even better than 
that. She encouraged him to go out with other women. She even gave him 
pointers on how to act, on what he could properly do-even gave him a few 
pointers on which female faculty members were most approachable. 

Wheelock hadn't believed he was hearing her right at first. He had always 
thought of women as predatory. He thought that once they got a man in their 
clutches, they would hand on for dear life, and he could not really 
understand why Miss Jellicoe was being so generous. It did not occur to him 
that Miss Jellicoe wanted to be free to fool around with other men-another 
boy like Jeffrey. So at first he was incredulous, but gradually he came 
around to listening to and following her suggestions. 

So he made a date with Miss Willingham. 

Now his mettle was really tested. This was the first girl who wasn't going 
to take the situation in hand for him. On their first date, they went to the 
big city 30 miles away-Wheelock didn't like the idea of escorting female 
faculty members around the college town-and after the date, she invited him 
in for coffee. 

He sat on the couch sipping his coffee, making comments on what Miss 
Willingham said, though he didn't know later if he had made sense, for his 
mind was obsessed with one thought: Would she or wouldn't she? Should he or 
shouldn't he? 

He put his finger inside his collar and craned his neck. Maybe she-wouldn't 
want him to try on the first date. Then, when conversation died and Miss 
"Willingham put her coffee cup down, he thought: Yes, this is it. He wiped 
his hands on his trousers-for they were awfully clammy-and was intending to 
make a move when he realized that he could hardly breathe, and his heart was 
thumping so hard against his chest that he thought she would hear it and 
laugh. He couldn't do it. The thought occurred to him that in two minutes he 
could be on the other side of that door and away from this painful 
situation. 

That thought was fatal to his aspiration, for indeed, in two minutes he was 
on the other side of the door and away from the painful situation. He 
breathed a sigh of relief, felt a twinge of disappointment, and trudged on 
home. 

Miss Jellicoe didn't berate him when she found out (though that is what she 
wanted to do). She only told him that even if Miss Willingham had not wanted 
a little fooling around, a pass by him-provided it wasn't rough or overly 
aggressive-would have been quite proper, and she could merely have declined 
to accept it without becoming offended. Indeed, since Miss Willingham could 
not initiate matters, it would have been only courteous for him to make a 
pass, and thus give her the choice of deciding what was to happen. Only a 
matter of courtesy. 

Wheelock kept this in mind the next time he went out with Miss Willingham. 
Of course, it only made him twice as nervous, so even though they saw a 
movie, he couldn't have told what it was about. And when they sat on her 
couch, now drinking beer, he felt the blood pumping through his veins, and 
again his breath came short. Only this time he thought his troubles could be 
over in two minutes-if he would only make that pass. 

So, screwing up his courage to the sticking point, he ran a hand across her 
waist, pulled her to him and kissed her. It was an awkward kiss, of course, 
being the first one he had initiated in many a year. And yet ... well, it 
settled into something very nice. When it got to him that she had not 
withdrawn in horror, had indeed responded and rather warmly at that, he 
began to relax a little. When they parted, he decided he wanted another one, 
and now being more relaxed, he was able to appreciate the kiss itself-the 
taste of her lips, the fullness, the warmth, and the touch of her hand 
across the back of his neck. 

He did not quite know how to go on, but go on he did. He moved his hand up 
over her breasts and was surprised to find that she didn't seem to mind. 
(The thought that she liked it was even running around in the back of his 
mind somewhere, looking for a place to take root.) Her breasts were 
different from Miss Jellicoe's smaller, wider-spaced, more pointed-but just 
as delightful and enticing in their way. He could just picture them huddled 
inside those wide-spaced cups, and they were beautiful. 

Now, feeling himself wanted, feeling that it wasn't such a dangerous venture 
to make an approach to a woman, feeling good all over, he began to warm to 
his task. 

"Let's take a shower!" he whispered. 

He was surprised at himself. He had never even made that suggestion to Miss 
Jellicoe, and didn't know he was going to make it to Miss Willingham until 
it came out. But it was something he'd often envisioned doing with a 
woman-and then, as he'd envisioned Miss Willingham's breasts, it just 
slipped out. 

She didn't object She went into her bedroom and presently came out wearing a 
bathrobe. "Well?" she asked, walking into the bathroom. "Are you going to 
take a shower with your clothes on?" 

"Gosh, no!" he exclaimed, and ran after, taking off a shoe here, a sock 
there, leaving them in a trail to the bathroom, where he now stood in his 
shorts. 

"Take my robe off," she said simply. 

He untied the belt, drew the robe over her shoulders, and let it fall to the 
tile floor. She was dazzlingly beautiful. Even if her breasts were smaller 
than Miss Jellicoe's, they didn't sag as much-indeed, did not sag at all-but 
stood out, cone-shaped and pert, wide-spaced and seeming to point outward. 
And further down was the light-brown, almost blonde patch that seemed to jut 
out from her body. But what impressed Wheelock most was the saucy way she 
looked at him, with her head cocked, as if to say, "Well, is there anything 
wrong with what you see?" 

He was tempted to say, "Hell not" as if she really had asked, when she 
suddenly did ask, "What do you have those things on for?" and yanked down on 
his shorts. And now part of him jutted out. He giggled and tried to hide it, 
like a bashful schoolboy, but she pretended to ignore him and unconcernedly 
turned on the water and adjusted it to the right temperature. 

They got in, and he soaped her over lovingly, carefully, taking her breasts 
separately in both hands, stroking, soaping gently outward to each rosette. 
But it was her whole body that dazzled him-that tall, slender body he soaped 
all over, belly, legs, fanny-oh it was all so dazzling to him. And all the 
time he was standing firm and sturdy, so much so that he was certain 
something was going to happen-especially' when she ran her hands all over 
his body, soaping him down-he was certain something was going to happen, but 
nothing did, nothing unusual, nothing except that he tingled with delight. 

Then they jumped between the crisp, clean sheets, feeling frisky, exultant, 
happy, naked, as indeed they were. For a moment they were a bit subdued, and 
"Wheelock, with his hands on her naked waist, looked into her eyes (there 
was a dim light cast from the living room.) It all seemed too good to be 
true. He had thought this would take months (the availability and 
willingness of Miss Jellicoe seemed a special case), and that girls were 
always coy, resistant, demanding. But Miss Willingham had been so 
wonderfully open, honest, and mature about everything, it only increased his 
delight threefold. 

Then they were rollicking about, frolicking about, kissing, biting, 
nuzzling, rolling over and over, now one, now the other on top, until they 
were interlocked where they were supposed to be interlocked, Wheelock 
pressing down, Miss Willingham pulling him toward her, holding him tight 
with her legs, her arms, caressing him, whispering in his ear. They rocked 
gently, slowly at first, then faster, each being carried up to a high pitch 
of excitement, and then one step further to the highest.. 

So it had been a good year for Wheelock. He felt confident now. He was meant 
for women after all. He could woo them, make them happy. He just hadn't 
known it was in him. Then, too, it was no small matter that the teams had 
done so well. The school was being talked about across the country, and his 
name was naturaUy mentioned from time to time. 

So he stood supremely happy before the throng on graduation day, and he only 
regretted that he couldn't tell them how happy he was-or why. 

He handed out an array of awards. There were several for Coach Bradley, of 
course, and the audience went wild with cheering. Big Ben and Murph also 
came in for their share of the praise, and just to cover all areas of 
sports, he gave an award to Miss Jellicoe. 

Then the students got their awards. There were some for the scholarly 
students, of course, but the audience was most enthusiastic about the 
athletes. Lightbulb got one, and Charlie. Jeffrey got one, and ... well, 
just about everyone who had made a name for himself in sports that year. The 
audience thundered its approval. Certain girls received sports-awards, too, 
although no specifics were mentioned. 

So it was a happy group that split up and dispersed when the ceremonies were 
over, and Wheelock could only be pleased with himself. 

"Oh, President Wheelock! President Wheelock!" he heard a woman calling. "I 
just want to tell you how happy I am my boy came here. He just can't praise 
this university enough. He says there's never been another school like 
MacIntosh!" 

"Well, well," Wheelock said in appreciation. She was an exceptionally 
good-looking woman-blonde, with bright blue eyes-and though if she had a boy 
in college, she couldn't be much under 40, she certainly had a pert, 
youthful look about her. "And your husband," Wheelock heard himself asking. 
"Does he think it was a good choice also?" 

"Oh." She looked away. "Divorced. Two years ago. And now you must think I'm 
terrible." 

"Not at all," Wheelock laughed. "And just to prove it, I'm going to invite 
you to dinner. Tonight." 

"Well ... I really ... well ... " 

Wheelock had the confidence to feel that she was hesitating only because she 
didn't want to appear too eager-and he was right. For then she came out with 
a bold acceptance: "I'd be delighted." here we go again, Wheelock, he said 
to himself as they walked away arm-in-arm. I wonder if Coach Bradley knows 
the whole story of the rise of MacIntosh Un.-and the rise of its president's 
prize. 


THE END
