ML-311 The Little Teenage Sucker

FORE­WORD

Janie loved to fuck and the more she got the more she wanted. It was as if a de­mon were 
in­side her, ur­ging and goad­ing her to seek more and more men.

Noth­ing was too wild and noth­ing was sick to her in­sa­ti­able ap­pet­ite for young 
cocks and young balls.

She could not get enough of the good things that she wanted and she rel­ished and 
ad­ored all the fuck­ing she did.

The young man that waited for her was pa­tient but pa­tience can run out. His plead­ings 
with her to stop the things she was do­ing were in vain. She needed nobody she told her­self. 
All she needed was a man or a wo­man in her bed every night. All she wanted was the feel of 
a warm body next to her, giv­ing her the fuck­ing and the suck­ing that she needed and 
craved.

Her life was one long orgy after an­other, and that was just the way she wanted it. 
Noth­ing any­body could say to her could change her style of life or her way of fuck­ing. 
Un­til someone showed her that there was such a thing as bit­ing off more than you could 
chew.

She learned her les­son, at the hands of a dozen men who at­tacked her.

It was too late and she was to dis­cover the depth of her own per­versity.

CHAPTER ONE

I was cry­ing the day I met Chuck. But those tears run­ning down my face were tears of 
hap­pi­ness, tears of grat­it­ude. I’d just got­ten a let­ter from Mom, telling me that now that 
I was off at col­lege and old enough to be on my own, she’d de­cided to grab a plane for the 
Coast and get her­self the di­vorce she’d wanted for years.

So there I was, lean­ing against the tree, bawl­ing my head off when this per­fectly groovy 
boy walked up to me and asked what the mat­ter was. Nat­ur­ally I wasn’t about to tell a 
com­plete stranger all the sor­did de­tails and scare him away right off the bat. After all, 
hadn’t I come to col­lege to see if there were some nice men in the world? To find out if it 
were pos­sible that not all guys were like that bas­tard that my mother took for a second 
hus­band?

Even now, years after the fact, when I think about Har­old my stom­ach gets all twis­ted 
up into tight little knots and I want to puke. When I think of the way he took ad­vant­age of 
my in­no­cence and twis­ted my view of men into some­thing dirty and fright­en­ing, I could 
kill him for it.

I sup­pose, if Har­old hadn’t come into my life, I’d have had a pretty nor­mal 
ad­oles­cence, and it wouldn’t have been ne­ces­sary for me to go through all that hell to 
straighten my­self out about what I was look­ing for.

But I’m get­ting ahead of my­self now. In or­der to tell the whole story, I’ve got to start 
long be­fore I met Chuck. I’ve got to go back to the day when Har­old Marks came into my 
life and star­ted to do his best to ruin it.

* * *

My mother is the type who never learns her les­son. For ten years after Dad walked out on 
us, she car­ried on, wail­ing and cry­ing about how much she’d loved him and how life had 
played a dirty trick on her.

For most of those years, I was a know-noth­ing kid so I just listened to her and ac­cep­ted 
everything she said without ques­tions. But as I got on into my teens and star­ted feel­ing 
more like a wo­man than a girl, it began to dawn on me that maybe Mom had con­trib­uted 
to her own down­fall.

Not that she wasn’t pretty. She was. She had jet black hair and huge dark eyes, the whitest 
skin you ever saw and a nifty fig­ure that al­lowed her to lie about her thirty-five years. But 
with all of those things go­ing for her, Mom didn’t have one ounce of self-con­fid­ence.

She was a clinger.

A whiner.

The last of the big-time nags. It didn’t sur­prise me that the guys she dated never hung 
around for too long. She would have smothered them if they didn’t run for their lives.

And then, one day, just a little bit after I’d turned six­teen, she showed up with a 
stiff-look­ing, gray-haired char­ac­ter in town named Har­old Marks.

When I first laid eyes on him I just didn’t be­lieve the whole thing. Des­pite her faults, 
Mom had al­ways man­aged to go out with rugged-look­ing, at­tract­ive men. I just stood 
there look­ing kind of stu­pid and sur­prised while Mom in­tro­duced us.

“Janie, this is Har­old Marks. He’s a banker,” she said, em­phas­iz­ing the fact.

“I’m very happy to meet you, Janie,” he said, shak­ing my hand.

I knew Mom wasn’t after this guy’s money. The dress shop she owned took care of us 
nicely. So you can un­der­stand that I found my­self at a loss try­ing to fig­ure out what she 
saw in him.

When she’d settled Har­old in the liv­ing room with a drink and the news­pa­per, Mom 
came rush­ing up to my bed­room all red-faced and flustered. “You’ve got to come down and 
give me a hand with din­ner.”

“Since when do you need help in the kit­chen?” I closed the magazine I’d been read­ing 
and stared ques­tion­ingly at her.

Her fea­tures softened into a smile and she closed the door be­hind her. “I want us to 
make an ex­tra spe­cial ef­fort to im­press Har­old,” she con­fided.

“Why?” I raised one eye­brow.

She sat down next to me on the bed, smooth­ing the folds of her dress with nervous 
fin­gers. “I think the time has come for me to get mar­ried again,” she said, without meet­ing 
my gaze.

“To him?” I croaked, un­able to fathom this for the life of me.

“Yes, to him,” Mom echoed de­fens­ively. “He’s everything I ever wanted in a man, Janie. 
He’s re­spect­able and de­pend­able and solid.”

“Solid bore­dom,” I cracked.

“You’re too young to un­der­stand these things, I sup­pose,” she sighed. “If you’d lived 
with a man like your father and then been aban­doned to take care of your­self and a child...”

“Please, Mom, not again,” I begged, drag­ging my­self off the bed. “If you want me to help
you with din­ner, I’ll do that. Any­thing you say. Just don’t start in with that same old story.”

She hur­ried over to me and hugged me tightly. “It’s go­ing to be dif­fer­ent from now 
on,” she whispered, smooth­ing my hair, “you’ll see. If Har­old moves into this house, we’ll be 
a real fam­ily just like other people. We’ll be able to hold our heads up and look the world in 
the eye.”

I hadn’t been hav­ing much trouble hold­ing my head up or look­ing any­body in the eye. 
But I figured if that’s what Mom wanted, there was no reason for me to give her a hard time. 
After all, it was her life, and I hadn’t seen her really en­joy­ing it for a good long time.

As per my mother’s in­struc­tions, I crawled out of my fa­vor­ite shorts and sloppy shirt 
and changed my­self into her in­ter­pret­a­tion of what a present­able young lady should 
look like. Prop­erly decked out in a fresh white blouse and plaid jumper, I made my way 
down­stairs, de­cid­ing in­wardly to give Mom a hand if she really wanted to get in good with
this guy.

At first, of course, I was a little nervous. In my six­teen years, I’d never been called on to 
charm a man of forty. But Har­old put me at ease al­most im­me­di­ately. All smiles and soft 
words, he let me know that he liked me and was more than will­ing to be friends. De­lighted, 
Mom left us alone in the liv­ing room and went off to fix din­ner.

Har­old looked me up and down and pat­ted the cush­ion be­side him on the sofa. “Come
sit near me, Janie,” he said. “I’d like to talk to you.”

Like a well-trained puppy, I put my­self where he wanted me and waited to hear what was 
on his mind.

“Would you like to have a new father someday?” Hon­est to good­ness, he said it to me 
just like that. I sort of gulped and stammered some­thing agree­able like I knew Mom would 
have wanted me to.

Har­old looked pleased. “I’m glad to hear you say yes.” He pat­ted me lightly on the knee. 
“I’ve al­ways wanted a little girl of my own, a little girl like you.”

If I’d known about any­thing, I sup­pose I might have been able to fig­ure out ex­actly 
what he meant by that. But, as it happened, I was only six­teen, and pretty back­ward, thanks 
to Mom’s si­lence on mat­ters of men.

It wasn’t un­til after she’d hooked him and dragged him to the al­tar that I found out 
ex­actly what Har­old had in mind when he said he’d al­ways wanted to have a little girl.

* * *

They’d been mar­ried for four months and des­pite my un­easy feel­ing whenever I was 
with him, I had to ad­mit to my­self that Har­old had done won­ders for Mom. She was like a 
new per­son. Bright and cheer­ful when she got up in the morn­ing. Hum­ming to her­self 
when she dressed. Re­laxed and con­fid­ent like I’d never have thought she could be.

Ap­par­ently Har­old didn’t mind hav­ing a work­ing wife be­cause Mom con­tin­ued to 
go into the shop every day and get home just early enough to fix din­ner be­fore Har­old’s 
ar­rival.

But then, without warn­ing, Har­old star­ted show­ing up earlier, get­ting home from the 
bank at around three or four.

I didn’t think much about it. After all, I had my own school­work to keep me busy and 
Har­old’s af­fairs were really none of my busi­ness. But soon I got the def­in­ite im­pres­sion 
that he was com­ing home to see me. On pur­pose.

I didn’t know enough about these things to be able to ar­tic­u­late my feel­ings. Yet, I felt 
a very def­in­ite un­easy sen­sa­tion when Har­old would ar­rive at my door and enter my 
bed­room un­an­nounced.

There was some­thing very dif­fer­ent about him at those times, when Mom wasn’t 
around to see or hear. The way he looked at me, the tone of his voice he used when he spoke 
to me, he way he’d let his arm fall cas­u­ally against me and his fin­gers would slip onto my 
shoulder.

The touch of his body, the close­ness of it made me feel fanny all over. And even though I 
felt like I should run away, here was some­thing in­side of me, a curi­os­ity that I couldn’t 
deny. I was fas­cin­ated and frightened at the same time. It was a strange ex­cit­ing kind of 
feel­ing, very thrill­ing for a six­teen-year-old who’d never so much as kissed a boy in her 
whole life.

I began to look for­ward to the time we spent alone to­gether. Without be­ing told to, I 
knew it wouldn’t be wise to men­tion any­thing to Mom. She as­sumed that Har­old got 
home just about five minutes be­fore she did and neither of us bothered to cor­rect that 
im­pres­sion.

I guess that Har­old would have star­ted fool­ing around with me sooner or later, even if I 
hadn’t fallen that day and bruised my hip.

It was a Tues­day. I re­mem­ber it clearly be­cause that’s the day I had gym class for my 
last af­ter­noon period. I’d stopped to talk to a friend after school. Then sud­denly, I real­ized 
how late it was and that I’d bet­ter damned well hurry if I wanted to get home in time to 
shower and make my­self look nice for Har­old.

Alone in my bed­room, I hur­ried out of my clothes, let­ting them fall where they landed 
on the rug. I couldn’t let him see me all sweaty and messed up from that vol­ley­ball game. 
The wo­man in me wanted al­ways to look my best be­fore him.

I didn’t no­tice the sliver of soap on the bot­tom of the tub. I’d just turned on the shower 
spray and the next thing I knew, my feet were fly­ing out from un­der me and I landed with a 
crash against the hard por­cel­ain rim.

Tears stung my eyes and I bit my lip to keep from cry­ing out as a sharp pain knifed along 
the out­side of my left thigh and around over my hip. I forced my­self to move my leg, to 
make sure I hadn’t broken any bones. I hadn’t but I’d given my­self one hell of a bruise and I 
could see that it was go­ing to swell and turn col­ors.

I dragged my­self out of the tub and man­aged to pat my body dry. I didn’t know which 
hurt more, the pain in my flesh or the frus­tra­tion of know­ing that I was go­ing to look like a
wreck when Har­old got home. Ir­rit­ated, miser­able, I pulled my robe on and limped out of 
the bath­room.

I’d just man­aged to get down the hall when I heard the front door open, down­stairs.

“Janie, where are you?” Har­old called from the foyer.

“I’m here in my room,” I replied in a voice that came out quiv­er­ing and strange.

Har­old hur­ried up the stairs, car­ry­ing a neatly-wrapped pack­age un­der one arm. He 
was grin­ning from ear to ear. “Sur­prise,” he an­nounced, when he’d reached the top step.

I forced a smile des­pite the pain in my thigh. “What is it?” I asked feebly.

“Re­mem­ber those boots that you saw down­town last week? The ones that you liked so 
much?” He ex­ten­ded the box in my dir­ec­tion.

I thanked him and set the box down on top of my desk, un­opened.

“Aren’t you go­ing to try them on?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Not just now, Har­old, I can’t.”

“Why not?” he per­sisted.

“I just had a little ac­ci­dent in the tub. Noth­ing ser­i­ous but I’m kind of banged up. It 
hurts when I walk.”

“Where’d you hit your­self?” His fea­tures tightened with con­cern. “Let me see.” 
Ab­sently, I reached for the sash of my robe and pulled it a little tighter. “It’s noth­ing really. 
Just a little bruise, noth­ing at all.”

“You can’t tell about these things. Maybe we should take you to a doc­tor. Come on, Janie.
Let me see it.” I hes­it­ated, em­bar­rassed to death, blush­ing like crazy. “It’s over here,” I 
said, tap­ping the area lightly with my fin­ger.

“Well, I can’t look at it with the robe cov­er­ing you. Move it aside.” I swal­lowed hard, 
burn­ing with shame. “I can’t let you look there,” I squeaked.

“For cry­ing out loud, Janie. This is no time for false mod­esty.” His tone was very stern. 
“Lie down on the bed and don’t ar­gue with me. Do you un­der­stand?”

The harsh­ness of his man­ner left me no choice but to obey him. “Would you please go 
out­side for a minute so I can put some­thing on, un­der­neath the robe?”

“All right, but make it fast.” He walked out into the hall pulling the door closed be­hind 
him.

I limped over to my dresser and pulled a fresh pair of panties out of the top drawer. I was 
shak­ing like a leaf with a com­bin­a­tion of feel­ing that I couldn’t quite define. The 
aware­ness that Har­old was go­ing to see me, that he was go­ing to touch me in that place, 
dis­turbed me and ex­cited me at the same time.

Trem­bling all over, I pulled on the little cot­ton panties and hobbled over to the bed. 
“Okay,” I called weakly. “You can come in now.”

He’d taken off his jacket and tie and loosened the col­lar of his shirt. “Which leg is it?” he 
asked.

“This one.” I rolled over onto my right side lift­ing my in­jured hip to­ward him.

Har­old lost no time un­cov­er­ing me. Quickly his hands un­did the sash of my robe and 
par­ted the gar­ment.

I real­ized then that I’d for­got­ten to put on a bra. Mor­ti­fied, I turned my face into the 
pil­low, un­able to look at him.

“That’s quite a little bruise you’ve got there,” Har­old said mat­ter-of-factly. “Does this 
hurt?” He pressed his fin­ger­tips lightly into my hip.

I winced in pain but said noth­ing.

“How about here?” He moved his touch up­ward un­til his fin­ger was rest­ing against the 
bot­tom hem of my panties.

“Ouch!” I cried, re­coil­ing from the touch. “That’s the worst place.” Har­old lowered 
him­self to a sit­ting po­s­i­tion on the edge of the mat­tress. “I’m go­ing to mas­sage it, 
Janie, loosen up those bruised muscles for you. Just try to re­lax. Do you un­der­stand me?” I 
nod­ded.

A mo­ment later, his fin­gers began to rub the flesh of my outer thigh. Slowly. 
Rhyth­mic­ally. I felt the strength of his hands pen­et­rat­ing deep into my flesh. Felt the 
muscles re­spond­ing to his steady, know­ing mo­tions.

And I felt some­thing else, too. A strange, de­light­ful, ir­rit­at­ing in­tens­ity grow­ing 
deep in­side my cunt, be­com­ing stronger with each passing mo­ment un­til it seemed to fill 
my en­tire be­ing. A pleas­ur­able heat began to suf­fuse my flesh and I felt a throb­bing 
sen­sa­tion start up in my breasts.

I closed my eyes and gave my­self over to the un­usual feel­ings stir­ring through my 
body. Des­pite the bruise, des­pite the pain, I liked the feel of Har­old’s hands on me. Liked 
the re­ac­tion I was hav­ing to his touch.

“Feel bet­ter?” he asked, his voice no­tice­ably softer and a little thicker than usual.

“Yes, that feels fine,” I con­fessed. Then I ad­ded hast­ily, “I think the pain is start­ing to 
ease up.”

“I’m glad,” he answered, slid­ing his fin­gers just a little higher un­til they were touch­ing 
the edge of my panties again.

I star­ted to move my body in tempo with the rhythm of his mas­sage. As if they had a life 
of their own, my hips began to sway slowly back and forth driven by a crav­ing I’d never 
known be­fore.

My heart was pound­ing so hard I felt sure it was go­ing to burst right through my 
rib­cage. My tongue felt swollen. The roof of my mouth was dry. I was glad I didn’t have to 
make con­ver­sa­tion with Har­old be­cause I didn’t think I could talk just then.

“Lie on your back so I can have bet­ter lever­age,” he ordered sud­denly.

I did as he told me without ques­tion, without hes­it­a­tion. Har­old had star­ted 
some­thing and I wanted it to con­tinue. My cunt was quiv­er­ing all over. Hot. Moist. 
Charged with a new vi­tal­ity.

As I rolled over onto my back, I felt the ma­ter­ial of my robe part­way, re­veal­ing the 
flesh of my na­ked tits. Quickly, I covered my­self, but I knew Har­old had taken a good look.

He pulled both his knees onto the mat­tress and kneeled be­side me. As he began to rub 
my flesh again, I gasped.

“Does it hurt that much?”

“It’s okay, I can stand it,” I mur­mured.

“I’ll try to be more gentle,” he said, brush­ing his fin­ger­tips lightly up and down my 
thigh.

A low moan es­caped my lips and without think­ing about it, I pulled my knees up into the
air. Har­old didn’t say any­thing. He just con­tin­ued to rub. Teas­ing me. Ex­cit­ing me. 
Mak­ing me feel like there were a mil­lion little jelly­fish swim­ming around in my veins.

“You like to be touched, don’t you?” he mur­mured in a voice that soun­ded like he was 
smil­ing.

I didn’t an­swer. I couldn’t.

“You’re a pretty girl, Janie. You know I like you a whole lot. More than I can tell you.” He 
reached out with his free hand and touched my hair. I felt his fin­ger­tips move down over my 
cheek, along the length of my neck and onto my shoulder.

My brain was spin­ning and I felt like I was go­ing to jump right out of my skin. All of me 
seemed to be de­light­fully off-bal­ance. I felt tense, nervous, on-edge like never be­fore. I 
didn’t know what was hap­pen­ing, what I wanted. All I knew was that I liked what Har­old 
was do­ing to me, and I wanted him to do more. Much more.

When his lips brushed across my mouth I gasped with sur­prise.

“Don’t be afraid.” His breath was warm and close against my ear. “I’m not go­ing to hurt 
you, darling. I’m only go­ing to bring you pleas­ure. Pleas­ure like you’ve never known.”

His fin­ger­tips inched down­ward into the open­ing at the top of my robe. I groaned 
softly as his palm curved over my breast un­der­neath the ma­ter­ial.

“Lovely, ab­so­lutely lovely.” He sighed as his thumb and fore­finger found the pulsat­ing 
flesh of my nipple and im­prisoned it.

And then, all of a sud­den, he pushed the bath­robe aside and covered the point of my 
breast with his mouth. I felt his lips, his tongue work­ing quickly.

My nipple swelled and hardened, pok­ing deeper into his mouth. Har­old groaned as if in 
agony and reached for the waist­band of my panties.

It was un­real, un­be­liev­able. Like some kind of a dream.

His fin­gers inched down into my panties and star­ted to stroke my cunt, mak­ing me feel 
things that I’d never felt be­fore. I moved my knees apart and thrust my hips up­ward, try­ing 
to dir­ect his caress, try­ing to guide him to­ward that part of me that was aching with need 
to be touched, to be fondled, to be ex­plored – my cunt.

“Come, sweet­heart, let’s take these off. It’ll be much bet­ter that way.” He twis­ted his 
fin­gers into the thin ma­ter­ial of the panties and star­ted to tug them down­ward.

Even as I raised my hips co­oper­at­ively, I couldn’t be­lieve this was really me, this was 
really hap­pen­ing! I was bey­ond shame now, bey­ond mod­estly. It was as though there 
were some kind of in­con­test­able force whip­ping my flesh to frenzy pitch, com­mand­ing 
me to give my­self over com­pletely to the de­sires ra­ging through me.

It seemed like forever be­fore Har­old slipped the panties down over my ankles and 
tossed them to the floor. “Now the robe.” His voice was husky, quiv­er­ing, un­nat­ural.

I al­lowed him to guide me to a sit­ting po­s­i­tion and slip the gar­ment from my 
glisten­ing body. When I was na­ked, I lay back down against the pil­lows wait­ing 
breath­less, wild to see what was go­ing to hap­pen next.

Har­old kneeled between my knees and leaned over me, po­s­i­tion­ing his face very close
to my own. “Close your eyes, darling,” he mur­mured. “I’m go­ing to make you feel 
won­der­ful.”

I did as I was told without ques­tion, without protest. I would have done any­thing for him
then, any­thing at all to as­sure that he wouldn’t stop, that he would con­tinue to do those 
won­der­ful things to my flesh.

He leaned over fur­ther and pressed his lips to the dark, warm val­ley between my breasts.
As his tongue licked the soft flesh there, I squeezed my knees in­ward against his sides, 
whim­per­ing with de­light.

His mouth moved down­ward, tast­ing the smooth flesh of my stom­ach. I dug my 
fin­ger­nails into the edges of the mat­tress, barely able to con­trol my de­sire to reach out 
and touch him, too.

And then his mouth was on my thigh, run­ning up and down the stom­ach. I dug my 
fin­ger­nails into the edges of the mat­tress, barely able to con­trol my de­sire to reach out 
and touch him, too.

And then his mouth was on my thigh, run­ning up and down the in­side, while his tongue 
licked my cunt there and drove me mad with throb­bing, aching ur­gency. I wiggled my 
bot­tom im­pa­tiently, wild for him to reach the core of my need, to put a stop to the 
vi­ol­ent spasms pound­ing through me.

His fin­gers spread my cunt lips and his mouth dove for the tar­get.

I gurgled and sobbed as a blind­ing light crossed my field of vis­ion and every nerve in my
body seemed to snap with de­lighted re­sponse. I felt the sen­sa­tions grow­ing stronger, 
sharper, any minute I knew some­thing was go­ing to hap­pen, some­thing I’d never known 
be­fore, some­thing fant­astic.

And then, without warn­ing, Har­old stopped what he was do­ing. “You have to do it for 
me, too,” he an­nounced roughly.

“Do what?” I stammered, not ‘fully com­pre­hend­ing. Hardly able to speak, to make my 
brain func­tion.

“Here, I’ll show you.” He guided me onto my side and then turned him­self around un­til 
his hips and thighs were very close to my face. “Un­dress me, Janie,” he com­manded.

I just stared at him, wide-eyed with dis­be­lief.

His fin­gers moved to my cunt and began to stroke slowly, taunt­ingly. “If you don’t do as 
I tell you, I’m go­ing to go away,” he threatened.

The no­tion of his leav­ing me in that con­di­tion frightened me bey­ond mod­esty. 
Quickly, obed­i­ently, I worked to ex­pose his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he crooned. “Now just do what I do and we’ll get along fine.” I had 
never seen a na­ked man be­fore and the sight of his cock as it came out of his pants was 
some­thing that I will never for­get as long as I live. His cock was thick and red and the head 
of it was swollen so that it looked like it was go­ing to break the skin.

The smell that came out of there was some­thing else again. At first I thought I didn’t like 
it. It was too heavy and an­im­al­istic. But I soon real­ized that I liked it very much. I liked the 
ef­fect of breath­ing in the smell of his balls and his cock. It made me quiver and pant with 
ex­cite­ment just breath­ing him deeply into my lungs.

He smelled great and I could not be­lieve the things that he asked me to do next.

“All right, now, take the cock in your hand and move it up and down,” he said hoarsely. 
“But I’ve never done any­thing like this be­fore.”

“You’ll learn very quickly.”

I reached out to touch his cock and the mo­ment that my hand reached it, he moaned out
loud and bucked his hips all the way into me. I looked at him and saw that his eyes were 
closed and that his mouth was hanging open a little and he was hav­ing a hard time try­ing to
breathe.

The sight of him like that turned me on more and I star­ted to stroke his cock faster and 
faster. I pumped at him faster be­cause the bet­ter I made him feel the bet­ter he made me 
feel. His fin­gers were all the way into my cunt and he worked at me un­til I was wet and 
drippy with all this juice that was com­ing out of my cunt.

I loved it then and at the time I for­got about my mother and what she might say if she 
caught me.

His fin­gers in my cunt were sure and hard and he really knew what to do to me. I was 
sweaty and hot from the frig­ging that he was giv­ing me and I knew that I was go­ing to 
reach some­thing that I had never felt be­fore in my life.

Up to that point I had never had an or­gasm and I never knew that won­der­ful way my 
cunt could make me feel. I never knew those mys­ter­ies that lay just between my own thighs.

But he showed them to me the next day.

“Put it in your mouth.”

“What?” I answered in­cred­u­lously.

“Put it in your mouth. Put my cock in your mouth.” I was at first re­vol­ted and 
em­bar­rassed by the re­quest that he made. I had never heard of such a thing be­fore in my 
life. I’ll ad­mit it: I was so damn na­ive in those days. But that man saw to it that I would not 
re­main for very long. He saw to it that his cock got sucked and got sucked right.

My head was spin­ning as the thick cock ap­proached me. I could not be­lieve still that 
this was really hap­pen­ing to me. It was as if this were hap­pen­ing to someone else and that
I was just watch­ing from a dis­tance.

I opened my mouth and stared at his face. He was smil­ing and had an al­most taunt­ing 
and mock­ing look on his face. It was some­thing that I will never for­get as long as I live. That
look on his face told me everything that I ever needed to know about men. I told him all.

His cock smelled great, though, and I gingerly slipped it between my lips. On the first 
con­tact with my mouth he gave a jump that al­most sent the two of us off the bed. He 
moaned and gasped and gave out low sounds of sat­is­fac­tion.

His hands were still in­side my cunt. He was pulling in and out of me faster and faster.

The thing he did next, though, really threw me for a loop.

He swung his whole body around so that his cock was still in my mouth but his head was 
down by my cunt. He told me that this was a sixty-nine and I al­most fain­ted when I felt his 
mouth and his tongue down in my cunt.

He spread the lips of my cunt with his hands and searched deep in­side my la­bias with his
tongue. I bucked and strained all I could, try­ing to get all the good feel­ings from it.

I felt great and so did he.

His cock was mov­ing faster and faster in and out of my mouth by this time and I could tell
he was really lov­ing it. He kept telling me what a sweet cunt and what a great smell I had. He 
was moan­ing and rasp­ing like an an­imal and I was al­most passing out from the 
sen­sa­tions that I was get­ting.

Then it happened.

He moved faster and faster and then he let go of his load. That was the first taste of come 
I ever had in my life.

His body stiffened and be­came ri­gid and stopped com­pletely for just a frac­tion of a 
second. Then he moaned and groaned louder than ever and all of a sud­den my mouth was 
filled with the thick juice from his balls. He was sweet in there and I found my­self 
swal­low­ing the come deep down in my throat. I could not get enough of that sweet thick 
juice in­side me and I knew that he was happy be­cause he settled him­self back and let out a 
groan of sat­is­fac­tion.

He kept rub­bing me with his hands and then I ex­ploded, too. I never felt any­thing like 
that in the world be­fore and I al­most passed out from the pleas­ure and the pain of the 
or­gasm that ripped through them.

We lay on each other like that for a long time and we were both happy and sat­is­fied.

All the thoughts about what my mother would say if she caught us faded away as the 
or­gasm ebbed and flowed away from us.

Like they say the first time is the hard­est. But after I’d ex­per­i­enced the mag­ni­fi­cent 
thrill of phys­ical re­lease, I be­came Har­old’s slave. Our secret meet­ings be­came a daily 
habit that I looked for­ward to, that I needed more than I’d ever needed any­thing in my life.

Look­ing back now, I’ve got to give Har­old a cer­tain amount of credit. He was a shrewd 
op­er­ator. He got me to do everything he wanted me to do to him just by get­ting me 
ex­cited. After awhile it be­came clear to me that he didn’t in­tend to go “all the way,” I guess, 
by not pos­sess­ing me com­pletely. He figured there could be no proof that we’d ever been 
to­gether in the first place.

As time slipped by, my whole life seemed to cen­ter around my step­father. There was no 
act too de­praved, noth­ing that I wouldn’t do for him, just as long as he brought me to that 
highest mo­ment of pleas­ure. Some­times he made me work on his body for hours, 
sat­is­fy­ing him over and over again un­til he was so ex­hausted that he could hardly speak. 
Then and only then would he throw me the crumb I’d been wait­ing for. I knew he was selfish. 
I knew he was in­con­sid­er­ate. But I was hooked. I had to have what he alone could give me.

And all that time, without my know­ing it, Mom was do­ing without.

As I watched her de­pres­sion thicken, I felt guiltier and guiltier. It was ob­vi­ous that 
Har­old’s at­ti­tude to­ward her had cooled. But, at the time, I had no idea that it had cooled 
en­tirely. It wasn’t un­til years later that I learned that Har­old’s af­ter­noon activ­it­ies with 
me left him use­less to Mother at night. All I knew was that Har­old had be­come a tyr­ant, 
run­ning the house with an iron will and neither Mom nor I had the strength to rid ourselves 
of him.

CHAPTER TWO

Meet­ing Chuck and go­ing to bed with him was the best thing that ever happened to me,
I knew. But it presen­ted cer­tain prob­lems. Ones I hadn’t coun­ted on.

To be­gin with, I never ex­pec­ted that he’d get so ser­i­ous so fast. Sure I liked him, I liked
him a lot, but I wasn’t about to tie my­self down. Es­pe­cially not now when I’d dis­covered 
that pleas­ure with a man can be a two-way ar­range­ment without guilt and without shame.

I kissed Chuck good­bye at the en­trance to my dorm­it­ory build­ing and hur­ried 
up­stairs to my room eager to or­gan­ize my thoughts and plan my next move. For­tu­nately, 
my room­mate had bur­ied her­self in the lib­rary for the day so I wasn’t forced to an­swer 
dozens of ques­tions.

Quickly I locked the door to my room and stripped off my bikini. My flesh was still tingling 
from the memory of the pleas­ure I’d shared with Chuck. I had to ad­mit that I was sur­prised 
and very pleased. I’d never thought that it could be so good with a man. Now I knew that 
what had happened with Har­old was only child’s play, a mere pre­lude to the won­ders 
await­ing me. And in my heart I knew that it wouldn’t be fair to Chuck or to my­self to stop 
now just when I’d star­ted.

I wanted to learn everything.

I wanted to ex­per­i­ence all the vari­ations on that fam­ous theme.

I wanted to be a wo­man of the world.

Later for love and mar­riage. There could al­ways be that, I felt sure. Be­sides, after hav­ing
seen the re­wards that Mom got for giv­ing her all to one man, I was far from anxious to 
im­it­ate her mis­takes.

My bed­room ad­ven­tures began in earn­est the very next week. I’d gone into Bo­ston to 
do some shop­ping and de­cided to stroll through the Com­mons be­fore re­turn­ing to 
school.

Sud­denly, my at­ten­tion was dis­trac­ted by the sound of chant­ing com­ing from the 
other side of a grassy hill. I stopped and listened, try­ing to make out the words but they were
in a for­eign lan­guage. Curi­ous, I headed in the dir­ec­tion from which the young voices 
were com­ing.

They were seated on the lawn, eas­ily a hun­dred of them. I’d heard about these people, 
the hip­pies that had drif­ted into town but I’d never seen them up close, never moved 
among them. Curi­ous, fas­cin­ated, I sat down to ob­serve.

A dozen or so oddly-at­tired boys were sit­ting in the cen­ter of the group tap­ping out 
the rhythm of the chant on bongo drums. They seemed to be in some kind of a trance. At first,
it looked a little funny to me. But I real­ized that nobody else was laugh­ing and I’d bet­ter 
not make a spec­tacle of my­self. Hid­ing my ig­nor­ance, I swayed back and forth in time to 
their mu­sic, just like all the oth­ers were do­ing.

A young girl – she couldn’t have been more than fif­teen – ap­proached me, smil­ing. Her 
long hair was brushed straight back from her fore­head and braided to her waist. She wore a 
sari and moved on bare feet.

I ac­cep­ted the piece of pa­per she handed me, eager to read it and find some clue as to 
what was go­ing on. The pa­per was dec­or­ated with un­fa­mil­iar sym­bols. I didn’t know a 
thing about Asian re­li­gions but I got the mes­sage that that’s what was at the heart of the 
chant­ing and the weird out­fits.

“Wel­come,” the voice above me was deep, rich and mas­cu­line.

I glanced up the length of mus­cu­lar tan legs. He wore noth­ing but tight, wrinkled shorts
that left little to the ima­gin­a­tion. I was startled but I felt my fea­tures spread them­selves 
into a smile as the sight of his broad, mus­cu­lar chest and pen­et­rat­ing blue eyes 
re­gistered in my brain.

Without ask­ing, he lowered him­self to the grass be­side me. Des­pite the long, 
disheveled hair and the stubble of beard on his chin, he looked friendly and I wasn’t afraid. If 
any­thing, I was in­ter­ested and curi­ous.

“I’ve never seen you in the group be­fore,” he said, look­ing dir­ectly, un­yield­ing into my
eyes. “You just get off a bus or some­thing?”

“No, I go to school here.”

His ex­pres­sion turned know­ing, slightly dis­dain­ful, I thought to my­self. “Oh, you’re 
one of those squares from the fact­ory,” he cracked. “Just a vis­itor.”

He looked like he was about to get up and leave. Without think­ing, I reached out and 
touched his bare arm, stop­ping him. “I don’t know if I’m so square,” I replied, need­ing, for 
some reason I didn’t un­der­stand, to prove my­self to him, to make friends. “I’d ap­pre­ci­ate
it if you’d tell me what’s go­ing on here,” I said sin­cerely.

He seemed to re­lax again. “Love, baby, that’s what’s go­ing on here. Can’t you see it? Take
a look, it’s all around you.” He ges­tured to­ward the oth­ers on the lawn.

I al­lowed my gaze to wander across the group. Some of them were in sleep­ing bags, 
hands clasped be­hind their heads, gaz­ing dream­ily up at the blue, clear sky. Oth­ers were 
just sit­ting next to each other talk­ing softly and smil­ing of­ten. At one end of the lawn, a 
young blond boy with raggedy clothes was play­ing with a kit­ten on a string.

Sud­denly, the chant­ing stopped. The lead­ers began to tie up their drums and the group
looked as though it were about to dis­perse.

“Well, it’s been nice know­ing you,” the boy next to me star­ted to get up.

I hur­ried to my feet, too. “You haven’t even told me your name,” I said, search­ing 
frantic­ally through my brain for some way to post­pone our part­ing.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he answered with a lop­sided smile. “I’m Bill.”

“Janie,” I offered my hand and flashed my bright­est smile.

We stood there for a mo­ment look­ing at each other, not know­ing ex­actly what to say, 
what to do, sud­denly tense.

It was Bill who broke the si­lence at last.

“You busy this af­ter­noon?” he asked off­han­dedly, re­fus­ing to look dir­ectly at me for 
the first time.

“No, not at all,” I answered quickly, re­lieved as my in­tu­ition told me that Bill was 
work­ing up an in­terest in my dir­ec­tion.

“I’ve got to get back to the apart­ment and pick up a few things. Want to come?”

“Love to.” I leaped at the op­por­tun­ity to con­tinue our as­so­ci­ation. “Do you have an 
apart­ment here in Bo­ston?” He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, fall­ing in step with him as we walked to­ward the street.

“You’ll see when you get there,” he told me.

As we moved out of the Com­mons, head­ing to­ward the Beacon Hill sec­tion, I be­came 
aware of a de­light­ful little cur­rent of ex­cite­ment dan­cing along my flesh. The ele­ment of
the un­known made Bill seem very mys­ter­i­ous and exotic to me. Bits and pieces of 
in­form­a­tion popped into my mind, things I’d heard, ru­mors about free love and wild 
go­ings-on among these people.

I knew that, if I’d had half a brain in my head, I’d prob­ably say good­bye and high-tail it 
back to the safety of school. But, as it was, I was too ex­cited, too curi­ous and most of all I did
not want to ad­mit to my­self that I might in­deed be as square as Bill thought I was.

The house was loc­ated on a tiny side street.

A brown brick three-story af­fair with a patch of garden out front.

As we climbed the wind­ing stair­case to­ward the top floor, it oc­curred to me that 
per­haps there was more to Bill than I’d sus­pec­ted. Ob­vi­ously, in or­der to af­ford an 
apart­ment, he must have an in­come. Maybe he was only a part-time hip­pie, I told my­self. 
Per­haps I was about to dis­cover that un­der­neath his out­land­ish ex­ter­ior he was just as 
middle class as I was.

That no­tion dis­in­teg­rated but fast, the minute I got in­side the apart­ment door. The 
rooms were bare of fur­niture ex­cept for a half a dozen or so cots and boxes. Clothes were 
sprawled all over the place along with empty li­quor bottles, beer cans and crumpled 
news­pa­pers.

“Now you know why I was laugh­ing,” he said when the door was closed be­hind us. “My 
apart­ment also be­longs to about a dozen other people.” His ex­pres­sion turned 
chal­len­ging. “Still want to come in?”

“Of course.” I forced my voice to come out sound­ing cas­ual, un­ruffled.

Sud­denly Bill’s man­ner turned of­fens­ive. “Okay, so you don’t shock easy. And you’ve 
seen where the weirdos live. You can run back to school now and tell all your friends you really
had a swinging af­ter­noon.” And with that he turned his back on me and walked off into the 
next room.

I hur­ried after him be­wildered and up­set. “Is that what you think of me?” I blur­ted, 
des­per­ate to prove it wasn’t true. “Do I strike you as be­ing that type of a per­son?”

He whirled to face me. “Well, aren’t you?” he said, his eyes glar­ing hos­til­ity. “What’s the 
dif­fer­ence between you and the rest of those col­lege girls who pre­tend to be oh, so 
lib­eral? Go ahead. Tell me you’re not at school to find your­self some rich man’s son for a 
hus­band so you can settle down in some forty-thou­sand dol­lar hous­ing de­vel­op­ment. 
Then have four kids and dis­ap­pear off the face of the earth.”

“That’s not what I want,” I whispered. “Not at all.”

“Okay,” he snapped. “Spell it out to me. What do you want?” I opened my mouth but 
noth­ing came out.

“I thought so,” he snapped. “You can’t even man­age a good lie.”

“I don’t want to lie,” I answered, un­able to con­trol the shrill pitch of my voice. I knew I 
was angry but I wasn’t sure which way the an­ger was dir­ec­ted. “What kind of a nut are you 
any­way?” I screeched, un­able to stop my­self now that the venom was flow­ing. “You meet a
girl. You bring her up to your apart­ment and then you start in­sult­ing her.”

“If that’s an in­sult, baby, that’s just be­cause you take it that way,” he in­sisted. “I’m just 
be­ing hon­est with you. You’re wast­ing your time here with me. I’ve got about five bucks to 
my name. I’m never gonna be a doc­tor. I’m never gonna be an ac­count­ant. And I’m never 
gonna marry you and be re­spect­able.”

“Who the hell wants to marry you?” I growled. “Who asked you to marry me? For cry­ing 
out loud, I don’t even know you an hour and you’re car­ry­ing on like I want you to sign your 
life over. Go to hell, Bill. You’re bad news.” I turned around and star­ted back to­ward the 
liv­ing room.

“Hold on.” His voice be­hind me was softer now.

I stopped, wait­ing to hear more.

“I guess I sort of jumped the gun.”

When I turned around, he was smil­ing apo­lo­get­ic­ally. “You’ll have to for­give me,” he 
ex­plained. “I got a rough deal from a col­lege girl not too long ago. I guess I’m still kind of 
burnt up over it.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s for­get it.”

He closed the dis­tance between us and smiled down at me. “Did you really mean what 
you said a few minutes ago, about not com­ing to school for all that middle-class jazz?”

I nod­ded. “Yes, I meant it. As far as I’m con­cerned, it’s all for the birds. I couldn’t wait to 
get away from it.”

“In that case, baby, I think maybe you and I could have some­thing go­ing for us.” He 
reached out and curved his fin­gers around my el­bows. “That is, un­less you hap­pen to be 
an ice­berg.”

“Far from it,” I mur­mured, shak­ing all over. “I’m no ice­berg.”

“We’ll see about that.” He leaned over to kiss me.

His stub­bly chin scratched against my flesh but I didn’t move away, didn’t try to stop him. 
His mouth was hard, strong, de­mand­ing and the feel of his tongue slither­ing between my 
par­ted Ups made me gasp with pleas­ure.

I felt my heels leav­ing the ground as he wound his arms around me and pulled me up 
close against him. The feel of his hard, na­ked chest crush­ing my breasts flat, the pres­sure of
his hips and thighs rub­bing against mine pulled the breath out of my lungs and made me 
weak all over. I sagged against him, eager to in­tensify the little spiral of sen­sa­tion wind­ing 
its way through my in­sides.

“For a square you kiss pretty good,” he said, wink­ing dev­il­ishly at me.

“You’d be sur­prised,” I answered, smil­ing wan­tonly.

“Maybe you know more than I give you credit for.” He moved his fin­gers up along the 
ridge of my spine. “You been fool­ing around for long?”

“Not very,” I con­fessed.

“I’ll bet you’ve never been high either,” he went on. “I’ll bet you’ve never done any of the 
things we’re go­ing to do today.”

My heart was flut­ter­ing wildly in­side of me, and my head ached from the pres­sure of 
an­ti­cip­a­tion. “I’m sure you can show me quite a few things I want to know,” I said, glad for 
the chance to flat­ter him, to in­gra­ti­ate my­self a little fur­ther.

“That’s no lie,” he answered, scoop­ing me back into his em­brace and squeez­ing me up 
tight against him.

Our lips met and clung again. I sighed softly as his hands stole around to the front of my 
body and covered my breasts, squeez­ing rhyth­mic­ally through the ma­ter­ial of my blouse 
and bra. His thumbs found the tips of my nipples and pressed them in­ward, start­ing a 
vi­ol­ent throb­bing sen­sa­tion that seemed to echo through every pore of my flesh.

I tightened my fin­gers across the nape of his neck and leaned heav­ily against him as the 
strength seemed to ebb from my legs. The smell of his na­ked flesh, the sting of his beard, the
al­lur­ing crude­ness about him all seemed to com­bine and force away the last of my 
res­ist­ance.

I wanted him. As I’d never wanted any­one be­fore. Wanted to feel him all over me, all 
around me, pos­sess­ing me, over­power­ing me, turn­ing me into a wild, free be­ing, like the 
rest of those people in the park.

He seemed to sense my de­sires. Without the slight­est hes­it­a­tion, he reached for the 
top but­ton on my blouse and worked it open.

My in­sides were churn­ing with eager­ness and I could hardly wait for him to get my 
blouse off. Whim­per­ing, I slid my mouth along the curve of his shoulder and onto his neck 
blaz­ing a trail of soft moist kisses. My tongue found his ear just as his fin­gers reached for the
clasps at the back of my bra and began to un­hook them. “Hurry, Bill,” I rasped bey­ond all 
mod­esty now. “Make it good for me, please.”

“The best, baby, the best,” he said, his tone con­fid­ent. “Nobody for­gets a ses­sion with 
me.

I had to force my­self to stand still as he slid the bra down my arms and tossed it onto the 
dirty floor. There was some­thing about the dis­order of that apart­ment, the vi­ol­ent 
dif­fer­ence from everything I’d known, that made what we were do­ing even more ex­cit­ing 
to me. For a mo­ment I thought about Chuck and my mother and Har­old. They wouldn’t 
ap­prove, I knew. None of them. They’d be out­raged, dis­gus­ted, crit­ical. And that made me
want to go on with what I was do­ing all the more.

Bill’s hands were on my na­ked breasts now, strok­ing the soft flesh. Goad­ing the 
throb­bing nipples to life. I threw my head back, en­joy­ing the sen­sa­tions that seemed to 
re­double them­selves with each passing mo­ment.

When he lif­ted the tip of one breast into his mouth I cried out with pleas­ure, push­ing 
my­self harder against him, for­cing the point of flesh against the edge of his tongue. This was
what I wanted, I knew. What I needed to make me feel good. I wasn’t cut out to do the 
nor­mal, every­day things that other girls did. I needed to fly high and wild, to break the rules,
to sow my wild oats time and time again.

His hands cupped the mounds of my but­tocks and pulled me up against the front of his 
body. Re­flex­ively, I began to un­du­late my hips, rub­bing my­self back and forth against 
him, height­en­ing his ex­cite­ment, goad­ing him on.

I heard him moan and felt his body re­spond­ing to my ac­tions.

The aware­ness of his re­sponse seemed to turn me on even stronger. Sob­bing softly, I 
twis­ted my fin­gers through his long hair and pressed his face into the soft­ness of my breast,
ur­ging him to take the nipple back into his mouth, to tease it with his tongue, to drive me 
past the point of no re­turn.

Bill grabbed for the back of my skirt and star­ted to hike it up over my hips. A mo­ment 
later, his hands were placed firmly on my ass, sep­ar­ated from bare flesh by only the thin 
ma­ter­ial of my panties.

I wiggled be­neath his touch, sa­vor­ing the pleas­ure that each mo­ment brought. This 
might be wrong for every­one else, I knew, but it was right for me. No mat­ter what I should 
be do­ing, this is what I wanted to be do­ing. And I just couldn’t bring my­self to feel guilty.

The thoughts were quickly chased out of my mind as Bill’s fin­gers slipped in between the 
backs of my thighs and began to stroke the flesh through my panties. I placed my legs 
fur­ther apart, of­fer­ing my­self to him com­pletely, giv­ing him ta­cit per­mis­sion to do 
whatever he wanted, to touch me all over. Any place.

His lips ground down over mine again as his hand toyed with the edge of my panties. 
Re­flex­ively, I began to ro­tate my hips, adding to my own pleas­ure and Bill’s at the same 
time.

A wild­ness was rising in­side me.

Over­power­ing me. Will­ing me to give in to all my de­sires. Hungry for pleas­ure, I 
forced my hand in between our sway­ing bod­ies and groped for the hard­ness of Bill’s flesh.

My fin­gers closed around him, caress­ing him through the tight, strain­ing ma­ter­ial of 
his shorts.

I heard his quick in­take of breath, felt his body stiffen and tense with ex­cite­ment. 
En­cour­aged, I began to fondle him, to toy with him, to tease him bey­ond the en­dur­ance 
of any man.

He growled, an­imal-like, and reached down to open his shorts. He wore no un­der­wear 
and a mo­ment later my hand was filled with warm, na­ked, pulsat­ing cock.

I was dizzy with ex­cite­ment. High on the aware­ness of what was go­ing to hap­pen. He 
was more than enough man for any girl. Strong. Healthy. Beau­ti­ful. I wanted all of him for 
my­self. Wanted all the en­ergy I sensed in his body, dir­ec­ted to­ward my pleas­ure, and I 
was will­ing to do any­thing to achieve that end.

From that ex­per­i­ence with Har­old, I knew how to get Bill ready. Lower­ing my­self 
to­ward my knees, I kissed my way down his chest over his belly, run­ning my tongue along 
his flesh while he groaned and shivered and called me names in a rasp­ing, breath­less voice.

And then my fin­gers were clos­ing around his cock and my mouth was work­ing to drive 
him wild.

And drive him wild I did. Grunt­ing with de­sire, he thrust his hips to­ward me. Strong 
fin­gers framed my skull, im­pris­on­ing me, guid­ing my move­ments and set­ting the pace 
ac­cord­ing to Bill’s need.

When I sensed his cli­max ap­proach­ing, I pulled away, un­will­ing to risk the 
pos­sib­il­ity of cheat­ing my­self. Quickly I glanced around the room, look­ing for some place
to lie down, some place where we could con­tinue ac­cord­ing to my wishes.

“There’s no bed in this room,” Bill said, ap­pear­ing to have read my thoughts. “It’s either 
the floor or one of the cots out­side. Take your pick, sweet­heart.”

I was in no con­di­tion to walk, to delay a minute longer. Un­der­neath what was left of 
my cloth­ing, my cunt was damp, throb­bing, scream­ing for dir­ect in­tim­ate con­tact. I felt 
spas­modic con­trac­tions of de­sire squeez­ing the muscles in my belly, echo­ing in hot little 
waves of sen­sa­tion through my breasts.

I needed a man. Now. Right this minute.

“The floor,” I rasped, fling­ing my­self onto my back. ‘Come on, Bill, don’t make me wait.” 
He kicked his shorts away and stood over me, na­ked and proud.

My eyes widened as I took in the sight of his body from top to toe. I was im­pressed, 
de­lighted, hungry for it.

My fin­gers raced to the side of my skirt and opened the but­tons there. In a minute, the 
gar­ment was fly­ing across the room. My panties fol­lowed quickly and my shoes.

Bill threw him­self on top of me, search­ing for my lips, my tits. His tongue and his fin­gers
worked in rhythm, driv­ing me mad, mak­ing me writhe be­neath him.

And then he took me. Roughly. Crudely. Dir­ectly. I screamed with the ec­stasy of it and 
pressed my­self harder to him, want­ing it all, want­ing it quickly, end­lessly. I wrapped my 
legs around his torso and pulled him to me.

“Harder,” I rasped in a voice that I did not re­cog­nize. “Hurry, Bill, hurry!” He didn’t need 
to be coaxed. Groan­ing low in his throat, he gave me his all. Hard. Fast. Re­lent­less.

And I loved it, every last second of it. Loved it more and more as the ten­sion grew, as the 
de­sire crashed through me.

And then my heels were press­ing hard against the floor and I arched my­self up­ward 
one last time, beg­ging him to join me, to make it hap­pen for both of us. Now.

The sound of our or­gasm filled the empty room as we both cried out with the joy of hot, 
vi­ol­ent re­lease. Bill wrapped his arms around me and we rolled across the floor, bod­ies 
locked, trem­bling, twist­ing. Fight­ing to sus­tain that per­fect mo­ment.

When we fi­nally stopped mov­ing, I was ly­ing on top of him. My cheek pressed against 
his shoulder, my hair cov­er­ing both our faces. My pas­sion spent.

“Baby, you are some­thing else,” he mur­mured tiredly. “I don’t ever want to stop.”

“Who asked you to?” I answered, smil­ing.

There was a long pause, a few mo­ments of un­cer­tainty. “I sup­pose you’re busy 
to­night,” he said then, in that off­han­ded way to his that I loved already.

“Yes, very busy,” I answered, wig­gling my hips, squeez­ing his flesh with my own. “Busy 
with you.”

We didn’t talk again for a long time.

He tried things on me that I had never be­fore ima­gined. We did all sorts of things that 
day that really left me weak and limp.

He in­sisted that he ream my ass and that I do the same to him. I’ll tell you some­thing, it 
was the wild­est time I ever had with any­body. The floor be­came the scene of some of the 
wild­est fuck­ing and suck­ing in my en­tire life.

His fin­gers in my as­shole were like sharp points of steel that drove me higher than I had 
ever been driven in my life. They were strong and hard and I could not get enough of the 
great fuck­ing and fin­ger­ing that he was giv­ing me.

He was al­most go­ing to try some ass­fuck­ing with his cock but I told the boy that I was 
really not ready for that and that I wanted to save some­thing for later. I wanted to have 
some­thing to look for­ward to. I wanted to be able to con­tem­plate the fact that I was 
go­ing to get it up the ass.

He had in­vited me to this party and I knew just what kind of a wild party it was go­ing to 
be. I was look­ing for­ward to it so much that it was the reason I didn’t want to get it up the 
ass that day. I wanted to wait and get it that night and maybe turn the whole scene with him 
into some­thing per­man­ent and last­ing.

CHAPTER THREE

After all that ac­tion, I should have been tired, I knew. But the no­tion of go­ing to a party 
with Bill, the know­ledge that I was go­ing to meet his friends, re­newed my strength and my 
en­thu­si­asm.

In my room at the dorm I primped and fussed for a full hour as though pre­par­ing for my 
first date. Des­pite the good-natured rib­bing from my room­mate, I re­mained in front of the
mir­ror un­til I was con­vinced that I looked my very best.

I had no in­ten­tion of let­ting Bill’s de­sire for me wane. One taste of what he had to 
of­fer was enough to con­vince me that I wanted more, again and again, and I was 
de­term­ined to have what I wanted.

I met him down­town. We were both early and the im­plic­a­tion made us laugh.

“I see you had a good time, too,” he said, wind­ing his arm around my shoulders and 
hug­ging me tightly. “You’re the only girl I ever met that didn’t make me wait.”

“The oth­ers were dopes,” I told him, de­lighted to be hon­est. “How do I look?” He 
stepped back and eyed me up and down. “Should I tell you or show you, right here in the 
street?” I blushed. “Okay, okay, that’s enough of that.”

“Never enough.”

“Second the mo­tion.” I linked my arm through his, happy to be led any­place, any­place 
at all where he was go­ing.

Our des­tin­a­tion turned out to be a loft loc­ated three stor­ies above a fur­niture store 
on the shabby side of town. Nor­mally I would have been de­pressed by such sur­round­ings 
but that night it didn’t seem to mat­ter. Just be­ing with Bill was enough to keep my spir­its 
high. I was hav­ing a ball for my­self.

As we reached the second land­ing of a rick­ety stair­case, the sound of loud, blar­ing 
mu­sic filtered down from above.

“It sounds like it’s in full swing,” Bill said, quick­en­ing his pace. “How well do you dance?” I
hur­ried to keep up with him. “You’ll just have to find that out for your­self,” I answered, 
con­fid­ent, a little smug, se­cure after my re­cent vic­tory.

The place was mobbed with all kinds of strange-look­ing char­ac­ters. Flowers and love 
beads were every­where along with shaggy hair­cuts and In­dian head­bands.

“You look a little flab­ber­gas­ted,” Bill said when he caught me star­ing at the strange 
ar­ray of people. “Want to go?”

“Are you kid­ding?” I threw him an in­cred­u­lous look and marched right into the thick of
the crowd.

A few mo­ments later, I be­came aware of a funny, sweet smell per­vad­ing the 
at­mo­sphere.

It s power was ex­cit­ing. I thought it was in­cense of some sort. Bill laughed when I told 
him that. “You really are the green­est, aren’t you?” His fea­tures were all wrinkled up with 
amuse­ment.

I hur­ried into his arms, blush­ing with em­bar­rass­ment. “I don’t know what you find so 
funny about me but I don’t like it,” I said, only half kid­ding. “How about a dance?”

“Sure, baby, sure.” He pulled me up against him and star­ted to grind his hips in tempo 
with the mu­sic blar­ing from a phono­graph at the other end of the room.

Im­me­di­ately, I felt my cunt leap to life and start to re­spond to the pres­sure of his 
body. Sigh­ing con­ten­tedly, I leaned my head against his shoulder and picked up the tempo 
of the dance, lov­ing the tingling sen­sa­tions that were skip­ping along my body.

Sud­denly, a tall, skinny boy with wild, kinky hair walked up and tapped me on the 
shoulder. “You guys want some grass?” he said, smil­ing good-naturedly.

“Sure thing,” Bill answered, nod­ding.

I looked from one to the other quiz­zically but said noth­ing. I didn’t have to. A mo­ment 
later, I knew.

“Here’s the in­cense,” Bill said,-hold­ing up a pair of ci­gar­ettes as thin as lol­li­pop sticks.
“Want to try some?”

“I don’t know,” I said, hes­it­at­ing. “I’ve never...”

“Come on. Don’t be chicken. You’ll love it.” He winked and handed one over to me. “This’ll 
give us kicks even bet­ter than this af­ter­noon.” Resolv­ing not to let my cow­ardice spoil my 
fun, I put the ci­gar­ette to my lips and al­lowed Bill to light it for me.

“Now, just take it easy and let it come over you slow,” he ad­vised, “and don’t worry about 
a thing, honey. I’ll be right here, right with you all the way.”

My head was float­ing some­where up near the ceil­ing. The sounds of mu­sic and 
laughter in the room merged into a loud dron­ing hum. My eyes didn’t want to fo­cus and 
everything I said seemed to come out crooked, but I didn’t care. True to his prom­ise, Bill was 
right there be­side me. It was good. Real good.

We swayed slowly, rock­ing back and forth in each other’s arms, ig­nor­ing the tempo of 
the mu­sic. My senses felt sharper, keener than ever be­fore. I was more acutely aware of the 
touch of Bill’s fin­gers on my body, de­li­cious close­ness of him. I felt sud­denly like there 
was noth­ing I couldn’t do, noth­ing I couldn’t have. I was mas­ter of my own des­tiny. No 
goal was too high. There was no such thing as im­possible.

I heard a giggle com­ing from some­where close to me. I glanced over just in time to see 
some girl’s blouse slide down her arms. I wasn’t im­pressed, wasn’t shocked or even 
em­bar­rassed. I just shrugged.

“You see what I mean, baby?” Bill whispered, breath­ing warmly against my neck. “When 
you’re turned on, everything grooves. We’re really go­ing to have a blast to­night.”

I wasn’t sure that I knew what he meant but I nod­ded agree­ment any­how. As long as he
was right there, hug­ging me close, I had no cause for com­plaint. Let the world come 
crash­ing in around me, I thought, I didn’t give a damn. I was hav­ing fun and that was all that
mattered.

We sort of melted into each other, mouths locked, tongues prob­ing, hands ex­plor­ing 
each other’s bod­ies. Some­where out around the peri­phery of my aware­ness I knew that we
weren’t alone, that there were other people around that might be watch­ing us. That didn’t 
seem to make much of an im­pres­sion either. Let them watch. Let them gape, I thought, as I 
slid my hand in­side Bill’s shirt and caressed the curve of his bare shoulder. What did it 
mat­ter what any­body else thought? What did any­thing mat­ter as long as I was get­ting my
kicks?

I don’t know how Bill did it but some­how he man­aged to find a sofa and guide me down
onto it. I snuggled hap­pily into the pil­lows, glad to be off my feet, glad to feel him there 
be­side me stretched out full length, rub­bing his body in tight, touch­ing me in all the right 
places.

“How are you feel­ing, baby?” he asked, as his palms slid up onto my breasts and began to
rub the flesh there in slow, rhythmic mo­tions.

“Great,” I breathed. “Just great.”

I knew I was high, very high. It was a dif­fer­ent kind of feel­ing than the one brought on 
by li­quor. My senses seemed to be sharper. I could en­joy things more. Feel things deeper, 
stronger, clearer. And I didn’t have a care or an in­hib­i­tion in the world.

The mu­sic seemed to slide out of the speaker dir­ectly at me, wrap­ping me in its sound, 
for­cing me to re­spond to the loud drum­beat, to the in­tense, driv­ing, prim­it­ive rhythm. I 
rocked my hips above the pil­lows, re­spond­ing to the song and to the pres­sure of Bill’s 
Fin­gers as they moved un­der the hem of my skirt and to­ward the top of my stock­ings.

Bubbles of laughter seemed to burst around me, above me. Male voices. Fe­male voices. 
All happy, all re­laxed. This was so good, I thought. Such a pleas­ant change from the circles in
which I’d moved be­fore. Such a re­lief from people who were up­tight about everything from
morn­ing till night.

“You ready for the big kick?” Bill whispered.

I could only as­sume he meant one thing and I nod­ded eagerly.

“Okay, just sit tight.” He reached into his pocket and came out with a white plastic 
cyl­in­der. “Un­screw the top and breathe deeply,” he in­struc­ted.

I blinked at the ob­ject. I didn’t un­der­stand.

“Trust me, baby, trust me,” he said, hand­ing it to me. “Just take off the top and breathe it 
in. Come on now. Do as I say.”

Ob­vi­ously, my brain wasn’t work­ing too well at all or else I would have quite while I was 
ahead. In­stead, I moved as if in a trance, and did what he told me to do.

It smelled aw­ful. Quickly, I pulled it away but it was too late. Some­thing in­side of me 
had · changed. I couldn’t con­trol my­self.

My cheeks went hot. My head star­ted to spin. I heard my­self gasp­ing deep lung­fuls of 
air, try­ing to catch my breath.

And then I felt a sen­sa­tion that I’d never known, never even dreamed of. It moved over 
my body grip­ping me in its power, ex­cit­ing me bey­ond de­scrip­tion.

I couldn’t help my­self. It was crazy, wild, I knew. But I just had to do what I was do­ing.

My hands flew down to the hem of my skirt and pulled it up over my hips. Quickly I 
reached in­side my panties and began to stroke my cunt, groan­ing as my fin­gers found the 
spot and probed deeply.

“Just a second and I’ll be right with you,” Bill said, as he lif­ted the thing to his face and 
breathed in slowly, deeply.

I was ob­sessed now with the need for phys­ical con­tact. Ob­li­vi­ous to what was go­ing 
on around me, I tore at my panties, pulling them down, toss­ing them aside. Frantic­ally, I 
worked at my own body, mov­ing double-time, boun­cing up and down on the sofa as the 
feel­ings in­side me ex­pan­ded un­til the need for sex was the only real thing in the world.

I heard Bill sigh and I knew that he, too, was feel­ing the ef­fects of the aph­ro­dis­iac. 
“Oh, baby, am I gonna give it to you now?” he growled. “Are we gonna swing!”

His fin­gers closed around my wrist and pushed my hand away from my own body. A 
mo­ment later he was all over me. With his hands. With his mouth, kiss­ing me, run­ning his 
tongue along my flesh, tear­ing at my cloth­ing, and his own.

Our legs were in­ter­twined and our bod­ies thrashed furi­ously as we fought to get closer
to each other. We were like wild an­im­als locked in com­bat. Claw­ing each other’s bod­ies. 
Pound­ing away at each other. Grunt­ing, moan­ing, gasp­ing for breath.

“That’s it, honey, go to it,” I heard a voice call out be­side the sofa.

I glanced over, ex­pect­ing that someone was mak­ing fun of us.

My eyes widened with amazement. It seemed that every­one else had gone crazy, too. 
Couples were locked tightly to each other, ex­plor­ing each other’s bod­ies. People were 
pulling off cloth­ing. Melt­ing to the floor. Rolling around to­gether without shame, without 
re­straint.

I wanted to look, wanted to see everything and yet I couldn’t bear to con­cen­trate for 
long. I had to at­tend to my own needs. Had to quiet the hur­ricane whip­ping through me. 
Had to have Bill right then and there!

I at­tacked the last of his cloth­ing with trem­bling fin­gers while he hur­ried to rid me of 
my stock­ings and garter belt. In a few minutes we were both na­ked.

“Not yet,” he said as I tried to po­s­i­tion him for my pleas­ure. “Take an­other jolt first.” 
This time I didn’t res­ist, didn’t hes­it­ate. Grabbing the in­haler from him, I hur­ried to un­cap
it and breathe deeply.

Multi-colored lights were go­ing off in­side my head. My vis­ion turned cloudy. I wanted 
to do any­thing, everything, all at once. It seemed that there’d be no get­ting enough, no 
sat­is­fy­ing me.

“For shit’s sake, Bill, please!” I begged. “Don’t tease me. I need it bad. Give it to me now.”

“First, get me go­ing,” he said, turn­ing him­self around. “Let’s work on each other for a 
while this way.”

I couldn’t talk any more, couldn’t reason with him. The close­ness of his flesh. The sight of 
it ex­posed and ready be­fore me was more than I could res­ist. Groan­ing, I reached for him. 
Cap­tured him. And at­tacked.

I felt the stubble of his beard scrap­ing along the in­side of my thigh and I jerked my hips 
rap­idly, en­joy­ing the pleas­ure and the pain sim­ul­tan­eously. All of a sud­den his tongue 
fluttered out rip­ping a scream of de­light from my parched throat.

I felt my legs fly­ing up­ward, flail­ing the air, kick­ing wildly as Bill worked to in­tensify my
de­sire.

And there was noth­ing more I wanted, noth­ing more in the whole world than to do for 
him what he was do­ing for me. And more.

I feasted on his cock us­ing my mouth, my hands, my tongue to arouse him. I couldn’t 
have stopped if my life de­pended on it. This was bey­ond san­ity, bey­ond any­thing I’d ever 
known. And yet, I wasn’t afraid, wasn’t con­cerned about any­thing ex­cept the pur­suit of 
pleas­ure.

I felt the sweat glisten­ing on my body, heard the sound of my own voice as I cried out 
again and again with the sheer ec­stasy of it.

And I did things that I never thought I’d do, never knew I wanted to do. Without think­ing,
without plan­ning, I just let my­self go, gave my­self over en­tirely to the per­vas­ive force 
that had cap­tured my free will.

It seemed to go on for hours. Time had no mean­ing. The only thing that was im­port­ant 
it seemed was achiev­ing that goal, sus­tain­ing that pleas­ure, shar­ing that mag­ni­fi­cent 
in­tens­ity.

Again and again I filled my lungs with the strange va­por. My head felt four times its 
nor­mal size. My heart was go­ing like an ex­press train. My en­ergy was bound­less.

And then, when I couldn’t ima­gine any greater feel­ings of ex­cite­ment, Bill hur­ried to 
place him­self above me and pos­sess me.

It was bey­ond my wild­est ex­pect­a­tions. Every move, every mo­ment was more 
pleas­ur­able than the one be­fore. I cried out with joy, with ten­sion as I felt my­self 
gath­er­ing strength for on­com­ing re­lease. It seemed that all of me was sud­denly poised 
and ready and about to ex­plode into a mil­lion tiny pin­points of sen­sa­tion.

Bill and I lunged at each other for the last time, fight­ing to get as close as we could as 
that mo­ment came thun­der­ing over us. Vaguely, as if from a great dis­tance, I heard the 
sound of na­ked bel­lies slap­ping loudly against each other. The strength of cli­max seemed 
to rock the world, re­ver­ber­at­ing every­where, pound­ing right down to the mar­row of my
bones. And then, all of a sud­den, it was over and I was re­l­at­ively sober again. Groan­ing 
with ex­haus­tion, I pushed Bill off to the side of me and fell into a deep, dream­less sleep.

* * *

I have to ad­mit that I had a little trouble fa­cing Chuck the next day. And I guess the guilt 
must have been right there across my face, easy to read.

“You look a little peaked, Janie,” he said. “Been up to mis­chief?” I swal­lowed hard and 
tried to keep a straight face while I as­sured him it was noth­ing im­port­ant.

“I real­ize you want to try your wings,” he went on, “but I’d hate to see you kill your­self in 
the pro­cess.”

“I’m far from dead,” I as­sured him, glad that class was start­ing mo­ment­ar­ily.

“If you say so.” He kissed me lightly on the cheek. “How about din­ner to­night?”

“Call me at five and I’ll tell you.”

“Good enough.”

Back to my senses again, I real­ized, of course, that one of Bill’s parties was more than 
enough for my scrap­book. It had been kicks all right. And I’d prob­ably never be able to 
du­plic­ate that in­tens­ity of feel­ing that the drugs brought on. Still, I didn’t want any more 
of that kind of thing. What he’d given me had turned me into some­body else. What I needed,
I knew, was to find my­self.

Bill was ob­vi­ously not the an­swer. I dis­missed him from my mind without a second 
thought.

* * *

His name was Mr. Wil­li­ams. He taught bio­logy. And the minutes I saw him I felt the 
wicked little thoughts start to form in my head.

“Since Pro­fessor John­son is home ill today, I’ll be tak­ing over his classes,” Mr. Wil­li­ams 
an­nounced, stand­ing in front of a row of glass beak­ers on an ex­per­i­ment table.

The teacher talked a lot that day but I didn’t hear a word he said. I was too busy try­ing to 
fig­ure out a way to be alone with him, to make him no­tice me.

I judged him to be about thirty. His hair was cropped short. His eyes were in­tense, 
pen­et­rat­ing. His full mouth made me want to kiss him right there in front of every­body.

I forced my­self to do whatever ex­per­i­ment it was we had to com­plete that day but all 
the while my mind was work­ing fe­ver­ishly, plot­ting double time, fig­ur­ing the angles.

I made it my busi­ness to bump into him just as he was leav­ing the build­ing. “Mind if I 
walk along with you, Mr. Wil­li­ams?” I asked, flash­ing my bright­est smile, tak­ing a deep 
breath.

“You were in the morn­ing class, weren’t you?” Re­cog­ni­tion flickered in his gor­geous 
eyes.

“Yes, that’s right,” I answered, thrilled that he re­membered me. “My name is Janie.” 
Need­less to say, bio­logy be­came my fa­vor­ite sub­ject. As the term drew to­ward a close 
and I found my­self with more free time, I man­aged to seek Mr. Wil­li­ams out more of­ten. 
Pretty soon we were on a first name basis and then, he asked me to join him for lunch one 
day.

The no­tion of plan­ning my own se­duc­tion made the whole ad­ven­ture seem twice as 
ex­cit­ing. As I stood in the shower, work­ing a glisten­ing lather up over my body, I thought 
about what it was go­ing to be like when I fi­nally got Mr. Wil­li­ams into bed.

Memor­ies of movies I’d seen in which older, more ex­per­i­enced men went to work on 
in­no­cent little girls came rush­ing back to me. He’d prob­ably take me some place very 
ro­mantic, I de­cided. Lots of candle­light and white wine. Soft mu­sic and soph­ist­ic­ated 
con­ver­sa­tion. I could hardly wait.

I chose the sex­i­est dress I owned, a black, cling­ing num­ber with a neck­line that dipped
halfway to my na­vel. I wanted to look older, ex­per­i­enced, worthy of him.

Little did I know what I was in for!

Nat­ur­ally, it wouldn’t do for Mr. Wil­li­ams to be seen com­ing to my dorm. So we’d 
agreed to meet in town were it wasn’t likely that any­one from school would spot us.

I ar­rived at our pre­arranged spot on the Esplanade fif­teen minutes early and breath­less
with an­ti­cip­a­tion. My high heels loudly against the pave­ment as I paced nervously back 
and forth, puff­ing on a ci­gar­ette and try­ing to dis­tract my­self with the sight of the river 
and the lights of Cam­bridge bey­ond.

“Am I late?” he asked, step­ping up be­hind me.

Startled, I whirled to face him, fright show­ing all over my face.

“I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.” His eyes turned soft, smil­ing. “You look lovely 
to­night, Janie.”

I wanted to tell him that he didn’t look too bad him­self but I held my tongue and 
man­aged to look de­mure.

As we walked to­ward his car, I glanced side­ways, tak­ing in the sight of his freshly 
pressed black suit, his hand­some pro­file. Just walk­ing along be­side him, my arm linked 
through his, was enough to give me goose­bumps all over. Of course, he still hadn’t said 
any­thing per­sonal, hadn’t made any ref­er­ence to the dif­fer­ence in our ages or the fact 
that we were stu­dent and teacher, but I felt con­fid­ent that he’s loosen up soon. A guy 
didn’t get all dressed up and go to the trouble of meet­ing a girl for din­ner if he didn’t have 
some­thing in mind.

I could hardly wait for the right mo­ment to come along so that I could let him know the 
feel­ing was mu­tual.

He drove a new, blue sports­car, low and sleek with soft leather bucket seats. As he held 
the door open for me and I climbed in on the pas­sen­ger side, I was aware of my skirt rid­ing
up over my thighs. Mov­ing slowly, on pur­pose, I took my time get­ting in, al­low­ing him to 
peek at my legs un­ob­served.

I wanted him to look, wanted him to want me. Wanted him to be as eager as I so that what
happened later would be ex­tra spe­cially en­joy­able.

“Any pref­er­ence in res­taur­ants?” he asked when he’d slid in be­hind the wheel and 
star­ted the mo­tor up.

I shook my head. “None,” I answered sin­cerely. “Wherever you want to go is fine with 
me.”

“That’s the kind of girl I like to know,” he said, flash­ing one of those boy­ish smiles that 
made my in­sides leap with re­sponse.

Din­ner was some­thing out of a young girl’s fantasy. Soft mu­sic, candle­light, spark­ling 
wine, and best of all, Robert Wil­li­ams seated across the table smil­ing at me, squeez­ing my 
hand, mak­ing me squirm with im­pa­tience and he de­sire to get him alone.

The after-din­ner brandy he’d ordered for us was smooth and went down eas­ily. Hap­pily,
I guzzled the am­ber li­quid, lov­ing every mo­ment of the warm glow it brought. I felt giddy 
with con­tent­ment. Con­fid­ent. Se­cure in the know­ledge that this was go­ing to be a 
per­fect night, that I was go­ing to have ex­actly what I wanted, everything I wanted. Namely, 
Robert.

“I sup­pose I owe you some sort of ex­plan­a­tion for my ac­tions,” he said, sud­denly 
turn­ing ser­i­ous over our second brandy.

I knew what he was lead­ing up to. Sensed an un­wanted mor­al­ity rear­ing its ugly head 
and I knew I had to move quickly in or­der to clear the air.

“No ex­plan­a­tion is ne­ces­sary, I as­sure you,” I said, giv­ing him my warmest smile. “I 
think we un­der­stand each other without the need for words.” It was a sloppy ro­mantic 
sen­ti­ment, I knew, but I couldn’t help my­self. That was the way I felt. Maybe it was the 
li­quor. Maybe it was the com­pany. The reas­ons weren’t im­port­ant.

“I be­lieve you really mean that,” Robert said, his voice husky with emo­tion. “I never 
thought I’d run across any­body who...”

“Don’t talk about it,” I said, my voice rip­pling with in­tens­ity. “Let’s just have ourselves a 
good time. Let’s just do what we want to do and the rest of the world be damned.”

His fea­tures re­laxed into a smile that made my mouth go dry. “In that case, what are we 
sit­ting here for?” he whispered.

I seized the op­por­tun­ity to ex­cuse my­self while he settled the check. Safe in the 
powder room, I settled my­self be­fore the mir­ror to re­pair my makeup.

My cheeks were slightly flushed and I knew that wasn’t be­cause of the li­quor alone. 
Un­der­neath my tight-fit­ting dress, my flesh was tingling with life as if it knew what was in 
store for it. Will­ing my­self calm, I dabbed a little more per­fume be­hind my ears, between 
my breasts. To­night, I felt sure, Robert was go­ing to give me some­thing I’d al­ways 
re­mem­ber and I damn well in­ten­ded to re­cip­roc­ate in kind.

Look­ing back on it now, I guess he must have known, must have taken me for gran­ted 
from the very start. It didn’t oc­cur to me then, how­ever that he’d been pre­sump­tu­ous to 
ar­range for a hotel room in ad­vance. I was too thrilled, too re­lieved, too ex­cited with the 
idea that, in just a mat­ter of minutes the fun was about to be­gin in earn­est. As we rode 
up­stairs in the hotel el­ev­ator, the only thing I was aware of was my own im­mense 
hap­pi­ness.

You’d have thought we were on our hon­ey­moon with the ar­range­ments Robert made. 
Cham­pagne, caviar, flowers, the works, all wait­ing and ready when we walked into the room.

I gasped and my eyes widened as I tried to take in everything around me, over­whelmed 
by the lav­ish­ness of my sur­round­ings. This must be the best hotel in the city, I told my­self,
glan­cing from rich bro­cade drapes to Chip­pend­ale fur­niture and ankle-deep car­pet­ing.

“I guess you ap­prove,” Robert said when he’d locked the door be­hind us.

“Ap­prove?” I echoed. “Are you kid­ding? This is fab­ulous. I’ve never seen such a place. I 
really don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say any­thing,” he whispered as he hur­ried over in my dir­ec­tion.

His mouth was gentle, sens­it­ive, warm. I closed my eyes and wound my arms around his 
shoulders. Stand­ing on tip­toe, I par­ted my lips and let the tip of my tongue meet his, while 
the wild cur­rents of arousal flowed from one end of my body to the other.

“Maybe we’d bet­ter get out of some of these clothes,” Robert sug­ges­ted when we were 
fi­nally apart again. “No sense go­ing home look­ing all mussed up.”

I nod­ded, smil­ing and turned my back to him. “Help me with this zip­per, will you?” His 
fin­gers were trem­bling as they slid the tab down­ward to open my dress. I was about to 
fin­ish the job when I sud­denly felt his mouth against my bare shoulder, and then his tongue 
slid­ing down onto my back un­til the ma­ter­ial of my bra got in his way. “You’re so 
beau­ti­ful, Janie. So ab­so­lutely beau­ti­ful,” he mur­mured as his fin­gers worked to open 
the clasps and part the elastic.

I swal­lowed hard, flattered, over­whelmed, grate­ful that such an at­tract­ive man should 
think so much of me.

“I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I met any­one like you,” he went on. “Any­one 
who really seemed to un­der­stand me.”

The back of my bra came open then and Robert slid his hands around un­der­neath the 
ma­ter­ial and onto the flesh of my breasts.

I sighed with de­light and leaned back­ward, rest­ing my weight against the strength of 
his body. Shiv­er­ing with ex­cite­ment while his fin­gers stroked the flesh of my nipples, 
mak­ing them swell and throb.

“Don’t ever stop,” I whispered, drunk enough, ex­cited enough to say whatever came into 
my mind, to do whatever oc­curred to me.

“Squeeze them harder,” I rasped. “Make it for me.”

“I will. I swear to you, I will,” he mur­mured, as he pressed his mouth to the nape of my 
neck and warmed my flesh with his moist flesh.

As the ur­gency in my body grew stronger, I began to re­volve my hips slowly, rub­bing 
my ass against his cock. I heard Robert suck his breath in, felt the ten­sion turn his cock hard 
as steel. And sud­denly I wanted to see him, wanted to touch him, wanted to have him na­ked
and close to me.

I turned my­self around to face him and reached for the knot of his tie. “We’ll never get 
any­place if you don’t co­oper­ate,” I said, wink­ing dev­il­ishly. “Weren’t we sup­posed to get
rid of these?”

His cheeks darkened no­tice­ably. “All right,” he said, “I’ll be good, but only un­til my suit 
is hanging in the closet. So I warn you, hurry up.”

That was all I needed to hear. Without wast­ing an­other minute, I slipped out of my 
clothes, the dress, the slip, the stock­ings, the shoes.

“That’s enough,” Robert said when I’d peeled down to just a pair of lace panties. “I’ll take 
care of the rest.”

I wasn’t about to ar­gue. Throb­bing with ur­gency, I hur­ried bare­foot across the room, 
stripped back the bed­cov­ers and crawled in between the white sheets.

Robert joined me in a mo­ment wear­ing only a pair of boxer shorts. My eyes opened wide
with de­light and ap­pre­ci­ation at the sight of his near-na­ked body. He was hard, 
mus­cu­lar, com­pact. A beau­ti­ful man. An ap­peal­ing man. A man that I wanted 
des­per­ately.

His hand reached for me un­der the cov­ers and closed over the curve of my hip. I 
shivered with de­light, ac­cept­ing his tongue all the way into my mouth while his fin­gers 
toyed with the elastic waist­band of my panties.

His flesh was solid, warm against my own soft, yield­ing body. I sighed as the little hair on 
his chest brushed across my sens­it­ive nipples, teas­ing me, ex­cit­ing me. Mak­ing me even 
more acutely aware of the dif­fer­ence in our bod­ies.

Slowly his fin­ger­tips inched down into my panties, mov­ing back and forth across my 
belly, lower and lower un­til I thought I was go­ing to cry out with the need for dir­ect, 
in­tim­ate, force­ful con­tact.

Sud­denly, I was no longer con­tent to lie there and just kiss him, to re­main pass­ive while
he ex­plored my body and made me writhe with need. I wanted to touch him, to feel his prick 
hot and hard be­neath my fin­gers, to do the same thing to him that he was do­ing to me.

Brazen with ex­cite­ment, I reached out and pressed my palms flat over the muscles of his 
stom­ach. His flesh twitched be­neath my hand, rip­pling with eager, im­me­di­ate re­sponse.

That was all I needed. Eagerly, I reached fur­ther, for­cing my fin­gers down into his shorts,
search­ing for that vi­tal part of him that I needed so badly – his cock.

We both gasped aloud as my hand made the con­tact and my fin­gers curled them­selves 
around his shaft.

The pres­sure of my hand on his prick seemed to spur Robert on­ward. Growl­ing softly, 
he tugged my panties down over my hips with short, quick, de­cis­ive mo­tions.

I raised my legs to al­low him to slip the gar­ment over my ankles. Then, com­pletely 
na­ked at last, I stretched out full length for his in­spec­tion and de­light.

I saw his eyes open wide, saw his tongue dart out to moisten his dry lips as he looked me 
up and down, feast­ing at the sight of my na­ked­ness be­fore him. His face was red with 
ex­cite­ment. His Adam’s apple bobbed rap­idly in his throat.

“Don’t just sit there, for shit’s sake, do some­thing,” I wheezed, wig­gling my hips 
im­pa­tiently.

“You bet I will,” he answered throat­ily, and reached down to strip off his shorts.

We leaped at each other then, des­per­ate to make con­tact, to feel our bod­ies pressed 
up close.

The sen­sa­tion of his hard, hot cock against mine forced aside the last of my self-con­trol.
Whim­per­ing softly, I slid my leg up over his hip, po­s­i­tion­ing my­self wide and 
vul­ner­able, beg­ging him si­lently to take me.

Robert had other ideas. Cov­er­ing my mouth with his own, he guided me over on top of 
him. Red-hot with de­sire, I slithered my body over his, press­ing to him those areas of my 
body that screamed for at­ten­tion.

His mouth covered the tip of my breast and his fin­gers dug into my hips. I groaned with 
de­light as his tongue worked my nipple hard, mov­ing quickly, flut­ter­ing, teas­ing, driv­ing 
me wild past the point of reason and con­trol.

And then, sud­denly, he was guid­ing me to a sit­ting po­s­i­tion astride him, 
po­s­i­tion­ing us both, pre­par­ing us for com­plete union.

I let my­self sink down slowly, giv­ing my­self to him, thrill­ing us both at the same time. 
The color drained from Robert’s face. His lips star­ted to quiver. The ten­dons in his neck 
bulged.

I felt the pres­sure of his hands on my hips grew stronger, knew what he wanted, what he 
needed now, ‘and I was more than glad to com­ply with his wishes.

Wail­ing with de­light­ful agony, I ground my bot­tom, in­tensi­fy­ing the con­tact, 
com­plet­ing what Robert had be­gun.

Re­sponse was al­most in­stant­an­eous. I barely had a mo­ment to get settled, to move 
above him, to find he tempo that suited us both.

And then, with one last vi­ol­ent mo­tion, we both turned ri­gid and sus­pen­ded in the 
ec­stasy of or­gasm.

I felt the little beads of per­spir­a­tion rolling down onto my breasts, felt my hairdo 
tum­bling loose around my shoulders, felt the muscles in my body be­gin­ning to re­lax. Still, I
didn’t want to let go, didn’t want to part from him. Croon­ing softly in my throat, I slid my 
body back and forth, drain­ing the last ounce of en­ergy from Robert’s cock; fi­nally, he 
begged me to re­lease him.

“It’s never been so good. Never,” he said as he fell back onto the pil­lows ex­hausted.

I curled up in the crook of his arm, con­ten­ted, proud of my­self.

“This isn’t go­ing to be the last time,” he told me de­cis­ively. “We’ll meet again, of­ten. 
That is, if you want to.”

“Of course I do,” I said, kiss­ing him lightly on the mouth.

He smiled grate­fully. “Of course, I’ll have to do a little fancy foot­ing so that Si­mone 
won’t find out.”

“Si­mone?”

“My wife. You knew I was mar­ried, of course.” I felt the roof come cav­ing in on my head. 
“No, I didn’t,” I snarled, jump­ing up to a sit­ting po­s­i­tion.

“Come on, now, Janie. You’re a soph­ist­ic­ated girl. Cer­tainly you’re not go­ing to let this 
get in our way.”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t an­swer him. I felt like a fool. The biggest dope alive. Quickly I 
got back into my clothes des­pite Robert’s protests.

“Wait a minute and I’ll drive you back to school,” he said when he fi­nally real­ized he 
couldn’t con­vince me to stay.

“No, thanks,” I rasped. “I’ll find my own way.” I hur­ried out of the hotel room dis­gus­ted, 
dis­il­lu­sioned, de­pressed. I should have known bet­ter I told my­self. Should have figured. 
Robert was too good to be true.

Hold­ing back the tears, I man­aged to get to a phone, dialed Chuck’s dorm and told him 
where to pick me up.

CHAPTER FOUR

Chuck was more than will­ing to con­sole me, in bed and out. And I’ve got to ad­mit it was
fun for a while. But after a few days, the old ad­ven­tur­ous spirit re­turned to me and I knew 
it was time to start my prowl­ing again.

“Do you have to?” Chuck com­plained, re­cog­niz­ing the change in my at­ti­tude.

I kissed him af­fec­tion­ately on the cheek and squeezed his hand. “We have an 
agree­ment, re­mem­ber?” I re­minded him gently but firmly.

“But you’ve got to real­ize that people are start­ing to talk,” he went on. “I mean, how 
does it look for the girl I’m sup­posedly go­ing with to dis­ap­pear for nights at a time? I can’t
sit home alone forever, you know.”

Im­me­di­ately I leaped to the de­fens­ive. “Is that sup­posed to be an ul­ti­matum?” I 
said in a tone harsher than I’d in­ten­ded.

He re­len­ted im­me­di­ately. “No, I guess no.” His glance fell to the ground. “Old faith­ful 
will al­ways be wait­ing for you.”

“That’s the boy I love.” I stood on tip­toe, kissed him on the mouth and hur­ried back to 
my dorm, eager to dig up some more of my fa­vor­ite brand of trouble.

* * *

Mona, my room­mate, was sit­ting cross-legged on her bed when I entered the room. 
“Hello, there, stranger.”

“Hello, there, stranger,” I greeted her cheer­fully, kick­ing the door closed with the heel of 
my sneaker.

“Stranger is right,” she muttered.

I stopped short, sens­ing trouble. “Is some­thing the mat­ter?” I glanced at her side­ways. 
“Have I done any­thing?”

“Nope.” She shook her head, re­fus­ing to look at me.

I sighed, resign­ing my­self to the in­ev­it­able lec­ture. From months of room­ing with 
Mona, I knew her well enough to real­ize that she didn’t ap­prove of my shenanigans, even 
though she was al­ways anxious to hear the de­tails.

I seated my­self at the edge of her bed and reached for her hand, squeez­ing the fin­gers 
af­fec­tion­ately. “Okay, out with it,” I said. “What’s on your mind?”

She pulled away from me and let her­self fall back onto the pil­lows. “I see you’re back to 
your old chip­per self,” she began, star­ing straight up at the ceil­ing.

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked. “Do you prefer me de­pressed?” She turned to look at 
me, pretty fea­tures set tight with con­cern. “When are you go­ing to wise up?” she said. 
“When are you go­ing to hop off this merry-go-round and settle down with Chuck? He’s such 
a great guy. He’s so right for you.”

“Oh, come on, Mona, please,” I si­lenced her with an im­pa­tient ges­ture. “Where’s your 
ima­gin­a­tion?”

“I don’t need one with you around,” she replied. “All I have to do is listen to what you’ve 
done and I’m ex­hausted.”

“Maybe if you’d do a little ex­per­i­ment­ing of your own...”

“Come on, Janie, cut it out.” She turned im­me­di­ately de­fens­ive.

“Be­lieve me, Mona, I’m only say­ing this be­cause I have your best in­terests at heart,” I 
went on, de­lighted to be on the giv­ing end of the ad­vice for a change. “If you’d just let 
your­self re­lax and go out with some of the guys we know.”

“I said, no more.” She jumped to her feet and strode across the room to her desk.

“For shit’s sake, why are you so damned sens­it­ive?” I asked, watch­ing her light a 
ci­gar­ette with trem­bling fin­gers. “Every time I men­tion boys, you go up in smoke.”

“Just for­get I said any­thing, okay?” she answered, turn­ing to­ward me. “You live your 
life, I’ll live mine. I’m sorry I brought the whole thing up.”

I sensed some­thing brew­ing in the at­mo­sphere, some­thing I couldn’t quite define. 
And sud­denly I had to know, had to probe, had to dig un­til I found the an­swer.

“It’s not nor­mal, Mona,” I re­flec­ted aloud, think­ing back to what I knew about her. “I 
never heard of a girl go­ing to school and re­fus­ing to go out with boys. Nobody can be that 
shy.”

She didn’t an­swer. She walked over to the win­dow and stared out through nar­rowed 
eyes.

“Well, don’t you have any­thing to say?” I prod­ded, de­term­ined not to al­low the 
dis­cus­sion to slip into si­lence.

“Noth­ing you’d un­der­stand.”

“Is that so?” I snapped, ir­rit­ated now. “And just when did you be­come a lady of 
mys­tery?”

“You don’t know me, Janie. I mean, not really.”

“What more is there to know?” I in­sisted. “We’ve been liv­ing to­gether, shar­ing the 
same clothes. Don’t you think I’ve figured you out by now?”

“Hardly.” There was a hint of a smile around her lips.

“You’re mak­ing this all up,” I de­cided aloud. “This whole con­ver­sa­tion is a pretty weak 
cover up for the bare facts; you’re scared of boys.”

She whirled to face me, hos­til­ity shin­ing in her pale green eyes. “I’m not afraid of them,”
she growled between clenched teeth. “I just hate them, that’s all.”

I stopped, mo­ment­ar­ily speech­less, shocked by her in­tense re­ac­tion. “If you hate 
men, what are the al­tern­at­ives?” I joked, try­ing to change the ten­sion between us.

Her face re­laxed into a know­ing smile. “If you’re so damn smart, fig­ure that one out 
your­self.” She turned and sauntered off into the bath­room, lock­ing the door be­hind her.

Slowly it began to dawn on me, but even as the aware­ness re­gistered in my brain, I 
re­jec­ted it. No, that wasn’t pos­sible. Not Mona. She wasn’t the type. I’d known her so well. If
there were any­thing queer about her, I would have sensed it long be­fore today.

Or would I?

Sud­denly, things began to fall into place, facts I hadn’t dwelled upon pre­vi­ously. Mona’s
curly brown hair al­ways cut short. Her choice of cloth­ing, severe, without frills. Al­most 
man­nish, now that I thought about it, and she never wore makeup ex­cept, per­haps, for the 
barest trace of lip­stick, and she pre­ferred slacks to skirts. And she wor­ried and fussed over 
me as only a mother or sis­ter ought to do.

When she came back into the room, one look at me was enough to let Mona know that 
the mes­sage had got­ten across. “I see you learned some­thing,” she said, her tone bit­ter. 
“That’s what you get for stick­ing your nose where it doesn’t be­long.”

“I just don’t un­der­stand.” I shrugged help­lessly and reached for a ci­gar­ette of my own.
“I al­ways thought that girls like that were...”

“Freaks?” Mona fin­ished the sen­tence for me with a wry smile. “Lady truck­drivers who 
chew to­bacco? Come on, Janie, even you can’t be that na­ive.”

I swal­lowed hard and looked away from her, un­able to con­ceal my em­bar­rass­ment, 
my con­fu­sion. “I guess I just don’t un­der­stand,” I con­fessed in a weak voice. “How is it 
pos­sible for wo­men to...”

“Do without men?” She seemed to have read my mind. “Easy,” she as­sured me. “There’s 
more than one way to get your kicks.”

“Sure, I know that,” I con­ceded. “But still, it can’t pos­sibly be as good as...” I blushed 
pro­fusely. “You know what I mean.”

Mona chuckled as though she en­joyed my dis­com­fort. “Don’t knock it if you haven’t 
tried it, kid.” She sauntered over to the desk and but­ted her ci­gar­ette in the ash­tray. “If you
ever de­cide you’re in­ter­ested, though, you know who to come to for les­sons.”

“Very funny,” I laughed mirth­lessly. “You’ve got the right one.”

“I’ve heard that song be­fore,” she an­nounced with con­vic­tion. “Lots of girls who’ve 
thought that guys were the be­gin­ning and end of the world have come over to my side of 
the fence. I’ll take you down to The Grove and show you around some­time, if you’re 
in­ter­ested.”

“The Grove?” I echoed. “What is that?”

She shook her head as though I were im­possible to be­lieve. “It’s a gay bar, dummy. You 
know, wo­men only.” She af­fected a lech­er­ous ex­pres­sion. “The nicest place I know.”

“Now what the hell would we want men for?” She placed her hands on her hips and 
re­garded me with amuse­ment. “Can’t you get it through your head, they’re really not 
ne­ces­sary. Really, Janie.”

“Not pos­sible,” I in­sisted, get­ting to my feet. “I mean, I be­lieve you and all that but I 
just don’t see how you can com­pare the real thing with an im­it­a­tion.”

“It fig­ures, you’d say that,” she answered pa­tiently. “Just proves how little you know.” I 
felt my curi­os­ity grow­ing stronger des­pite my dis­com­fort about the whole sub­ject. For a
second I hes­it­ated, but then I de­cided to give in. I was look­ing for new thrills, wasn’t I? I 
wanted to ex­per­i­ence whatever there was to ex­per­i­ence, didn’t I? I mustn’t run away 
from the un­known – that was cow­ardly and sense­less.

“Will you take me there?” I asked in a quiv­er­ing tone.

“You’re not ser­i­ous.” She raised an eye­brow and re­garded me skep­tic­ally. “You really 
want to go to The Grove?”

“Right now,” I in­sisted, “to­night.” And I thought to my­self: be­fore I lose my cour­age.

Mona’s face widened into a broad, happy grin. “That’s a date,” she said, “just let me 
change my clothes.”

The Grove was loc­ated in a base­ment not far from the down­town shop­ping dis­trict of 
Bo­ston. From the out­side it looked like any other bar I ob­served, aloud.

“Wait till you get in­side,” Mona said, chuck­ling. “Then you’ll change your mind fast.” I 
glanced over at her, wish­ing she’d be a little more en­cour­aging, a little less de­fens­ive. Still,
I could un­der­stand her un­eas­i­ness, her aloof­ness. I was, after all, an out­sider. The 
en­emy. The critic.

The boun­cer at the door looked me over from top to toe as though I might be car­ry­ing 
a bomb.

“It’s okay, she’s with me, Carl,” Mona said.

He nod­ded, grunted some­thing or other, and waved us in­side.

The smoke and the noise as­sailed my senses, ren­der­ing me mo­ment­ar­ily speech­less.
As my eyes ac­cus­tomed them­selves to the dim light­ing, I began to make out the shad­owy
forms of wo­men – all sizes, shapes and ages.

“Lost your nerve yet?” Mona came up be­hind me and whispered in my ear.

“The hell I have,” I as­ser­ted de­fi­antly.

Her smile turned sud­denly ap­prov­ing. “Maybe you’ve got pos­sib­il­it­ies, yet,” she 
cracked be­fore lead­ing the way to the bar.

I was very happy to get that beer in­side of me, des­pite the fact that I had to drink it out 
of the bottle. My in­sides were boun­cing around like crazy and I was afraid to look either to 
the right or to the left. I just sat there on the bar stool guzz­ling away, try­ing not to look as 
scared as I felt.

Mona, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more at ease. She stood, lean­ing back 
against the bar, el­bows planted cas­u­ally on the counter top, eye­ing the scenery around 
her. “Lots of good stuff here to­night,” she ob­served aloud, for my be­ne­fit, I felt sure.

“Should I worry?” I did my best to sound cool, com­posed.

“You’re not alone. You’ve got noth­ing to worry about,” she cracked, wink­ing in my 
dir­ec­tion. “I’ll pro­tect you.”

I hur­ried back to the beer, won­der­ing if this had been a mis­take, won­der­ing when the
fun was go­ing to be­gin, if ever.

It took three beers and a lot of pep talk from Mona be­fore I could re­lax enough to turn 
around and see what was do­ing. And when I fi­nally did, I got an eye­ful.

At the far end of the room, on a small plat­form, a three-piece combo was grind­ing out 
slow, erotic mu­sic. The dance floor was crowded with couples, all wo­men, locked in each 
other’s em­brace, sway­ing slowly, erot­ic­ally, to the com­mand of the drum­beat.

It was hard to be­lieve and I guess I must have been gap­ing. Sud­denly, Mona leaned 
over to whis­per in my ear.

“If you don’t stop look­ing like you’ve just seen a ghost, every­one’s gonna know your 
scene,” she ad­vised me, fight­ing to hold back her laughter.

I nod­ded and af­fected an im­pass­ive ex­pres­sion. “Amaz­ing,” I thought aloud, “just 
amaz­ing.”

“It de­pends on the circles you travel in,” Mona com­men­ted. “I’ve been swinging like this
ever since I was fif­teen.”

“Fif­teen?” I echoed. “Isn’t that a little young?”

“What were you do­ing at fif­teen?” she asked, grin­ning imp­ishly.

Har­old’s face flashed in my mind and I swal­lowed hard as I was un­able to an­swer her 
ques­tion.

“That’s what I thought, baby,” Mona said. “Each to his own, right?”

“Agreed.” The bar­tender re­appeared with a fresh bottle of beer for each of us, and I 
couldn’t have been hap­pier to have to drink. My nerves were on edge. I felt like I’d crossed 
the line into a dif­fer­ent world. There was noth­ing here even re­motely re­lated to my 
sphere of ref­er­ence. And yet I knew it was all hap­pen­ing. It was all real and there I was 
right in the middle of the storm.

“How’s your dan­cing?” Mona asked when we were halfway through the beers.

I had to stare at her for a minute. The trans­form­a­tion that had taken place in this girl 
was mi­ra­cu­lous. She wasn’t the shy, awk­ward Mona that I knew from school. She seemed 
to blos­som, to come into her own, to have new life.

“What the hell are you look­ing at?” she asked me, her smile con­stant.

“You were right, I don’t know you,” I said softly. “I don’t know you at all.” She chuckled and
grabbed my hand. “Come on, let’s make friends.” Be­fore I could do any­thing about it, she’d 
led me out to the dance floor and pulled me into her em­brace. I thought I was go­ing to be 
re­vol­ted by the close­ness of an­other girl’s body, but to my sur­prise noth­ing happened 
when I star­ted to dance with her.

“See?” she said in an amused tone. “You haven’t turned into a pil­lar of salt.”

“I hardly ex­pec­ted to,” I lied, de­term­ined to end her laughter at my ex­pense.

“Okay, be jaded, see if I care.” She hugged me briefly and led me into a slow turn. 
Sud­denly, her mouth was against my ear. “How would you like to meet some of the girls?” 
she breathed.

“Oh, no, please,” my voice was flut­tery, “don’t in­tro­duce me to any­one.”

“You wanna stick with me, is that it?”

“Yes,” I told her.

“But I thought you don’t dig girls.”

I’d walked right into that one and she’d caught me. I moved my head back and gave Mona
a dirty look. “I thought we were sup­posed to be friends,” I said, glad that the light­ing was 
low so she couldn’t see the red­ness in my face.

She chuckled, “Okay, I’ll be nice to you, as long as you’re nice to me.” I don’t know what 
gave me the cour­age to go on with it, but when Mona pulled me tighter into her arms and 
star­ted to rub slow circles down near the base of my spine, I didn’t protest. In­stead, I sighed 
and al­lowed my weight to rest against her.

“We should have done this a long time ago,” she whispered.

I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. This was all so new for me, so strange. 
And, strangest of all, was the fact that Mona’s hands felt good on my body. As her fin­gers 
moved around on my back, I felt the ten­sion start to ease out of my flesh.

“Hav­ing a good time?” she asked.

I nod­ded, sin­cerely.

“I’m glad,” she said, “be­cause I’m hav­ing a ball.” We were both very drunk by the time we
got back to the dorm. Gig­gling softly, we tip­toed up the stairs to­ward our room, try­ing our
best not to wake any­body.

“Safe,” Mona an­nounced in a stage whis­per when she’d locked the bed­room door 
be­hind us. “We made it.”

I stumbled across the room, open­ing but­tons as I moved. “Yours truly is high.” My voice 
came out sing-song.

“Pipe down, will you,” Mona hur­ried over to me and covered my mouth with her hand. 
“Do you want the whole place down on our necks?”

“No,” I shook my head.

She un­covered my mouth and looked me right in the eye. “Now be good and keep 
quiet,” she whispered. “Here, let me help you off with your clothes.”

I had the feel­ing that I was play­ing with fire but I was too high to really give a damn. I let 
my body go limp and al­lowed Mona to un­dress me.

By the time she had me down to bra and panties, I was start­ing to feel a little nervous, but
it was a nice kind of nervous and I didn’t want it to end.

Sud­denly, she sat up very straight and looked un­com­fort­able. “I think you’d bet­ter do 
the rest,” she said in a voice that came out throaty and low.

“Why?” I chal­lenged, “afraid I’m go­ing to rape you?” Her face seemed to crack in half. 
“Come on, Janie... don’t start things you’re not go­ing to fin­ish.”

“How do I know I’m not go­ing to fin­ish them if I’d never tried them?” For a mo­ment she
looked hope­ful. Then her ex­pres­sion darkened again. “You’re drunk,” she said. “Big talk. 
That’s all.”

“Try me,” I dared her.

Mona stud­ied me for a long time, ob­vi­ously try­ing to de­cide the best way to 
pro­ceed. Sud­denly, she seemed to fill up with con­fid­ence.

“Okay, big shot, turn over and let’s get rid of this bra.” Over I went, trem­bling, wide-eyed, 
dy­ing with curi­os­ity. Maybe those girls at the damn bar knew some­thing I didn’t, I told 
my­self. Maybe they had secrets I ought to let my­self in on. I damn well in­ten­ded to find 
out.

Mona’s fin­gers moved quickly, loosen­ing the clasps on my bra, slip­ping the gar­ment 
down over my arms.

“Lift up,” she ordered as she grabbed the waist­band of my panties.

I raised my hips co­oper­at­ively and let her slip the thin ma­ter­ial down­ward, 
re­veal­ing my be­hind which I wiggled pro­voc­at­ively.

She slapped me play­fully on the rump and tugged the panties the rest of the way down. 
“You’re too anxious to give it away,” she said. “Maybe I shouldn’t bother.”

I rolled onto my back and smiled up at her. “See if you can stop your­self,” I whispered, as I
lif­ted my knees to­ward my shoulders and then spread them slowly out­ward.

I saw Mona gulp and watched her eyes widen as her glance swept down over my na­ked 
body, tak­ing in my wide, wet cunt. Slowly her hand reached out for me, fin­gers trem­bling, 
and settled on the tip of my breast.

“Come on, I’m not made out of glass,” I told her. “Put up or shut up.” The last of her 
hes­it­a­tion seemed to dis­ap­pear. Sob­bing with de­sire, she grasped my breasts in her 
hands and crawled up to kiss me full in the mouth.

Her lips were eager, de­mand­ing, her tongue plunged deep, her fin­ger­tips cap­tured 
my nipples and squeezed them to hard, throb­bing life.

I squirmed, dis­com­for­ted by my urge to throw my arms around her and the 
sim­ul­tan­eous aware­ness that this was a girl mak­ing love to me.

But as Mona’s hands slid down over my na­ked body, my in­hib­i­tions quickly van­ished 
and I reached for the warmth and re­as­sur­ance of her cunt.

The soft­ness of a wo­manly body be­neath my touch was a shock to me, and yet I was 
fas­cin­ated. As I sucked Mona’s tongue into my mouth, my fin­gers moved onto her breasts, 
caress­ing the soft mounds of flesh, search­ing for the little points of her nipples that I’d seen 
many times when she was un­dressed.

She sighed with pleas­ure as my fin­ger­tips found their mark and began to squeeze 
rhyth­mic­ally, strok­ing, teas­ing and ex­cit­ing her.

Sud­denly, she pulled away from me. “I’ve got to get out of these clothes,” she 
an­nounced, hur­ry­ing to un­but­ton her blouse.

I watched as her body came into view. The white flesh. The full, up­turned breasts with 
their pink rose­bud tips. As she slid out of her panties, I felt my body turn ri­gid with ten­sion, 
with curi­os­ity, and yes, with de­sire.

I couldn’t wait to see what it would be like to touch an­other wo­man in­tim­ately, to 
ex­plore the sens­it­ive places on her body and see if she re­acted the same way I did, to find 
out all the things that wo­men did in bed to­gether, the things that were sup­posedly so 
ful­filling there was no need for the pres­ence of a man.

Sud­denly, Mona looked up and our eyes met and held, and I knew she saw the hun­ger 
writ­ten clearly across my face.

“Please, turn the light out,” I stammered, un­able to con­tain my em­bar­rass­ment.

“Sure, baby, sure. Any­thing you say. I know the first time’s al­ways the hard­est.” She 
hur­ried across to the far wall, breasts and but­tocks jig­gling, and plunged the room into 
dark­ness.

The sound of my own breath­ing seemed to crash through the dark­ness as I waited, 
shiv­er­ing with ex­pect­a­tion, to find out what would hap­pen next. I tensed as the 
mat­tress dipped be­neath the weight of Mona’s knee.

“Make room, baby. Here I come,” she whispered, mov­ing to­ward me across the 
mat­tress.

I didn’t know just what to do, didn’t know what was ex­pec­ted of me. So I just lay there 
mo­tion­less, count­ing on Mona’s ex­per­i­ence to guide the way.

She lowered her mouth to­ward my belly and I gasped as flesh met na­ked flesh. While her
tongue zig­zagged over my body, her hands reached up to en­circle my breasts and fondle 
them ten­derly.

Re­flex­ively, I arched my back, lift­ing my­self up to­ward her, fig­ur­ing that I knew what 
she had in mind to do.

Mona didn’t dis­ap­point me. Gasp­ing for breath, she kissed her way down­ward, 
linger­ing along my belly, my quiv­er­ing thighs un­til I thought I was go­ing to burst with the
force of my ur­gent need.

“Please, Mona,” I groaned. “Do some­thing, do any­thing. I can’t take much more of this.” 
She squeezed my breasts harder and looked up to­ward me. “Just take it easy,” she 
mur­mured. “I’ll fix everything. Be­lieve me, honey, I know how.” I thrashed my head back and 
forth across the pil­low as her mouth con­tin­ued to evoke sharp spasms of re­sponse 
through my churn­ing flesh. My hips were mov­ing quickly now, pump­ing away with a life of 
their own as de­sire whipped my flesh to mad­ness.

And then, without warn­ing, Mona’s tongue fluttered out of her mouth and touched my 
clit in the most in­cred­ible way.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” I pleaded with her, squeez­ing her face between my thighs
and of­fer­ing my­self for her en­joy­ment. “Do that, yes, it’s so good.”

She was will­ing to do as I asked, but only for a little while. Just as I thought I was go­ing 
to burst through the first mo­ments of glor­i­ous ful­fill­ment, Mona with­drew and shif­ted 
her po­s­i­tion on the bed.

“Since you en­joy it so much, how about shar­ing the fun,” she said, inch­ing her belly 
to­ward my lips.

I hes­it­ated, but just for a mo­ment. I was too ex­cited, too ob­sessed with the need for 
re­lease to let con­ven­tion stop me now. Will­ingly, I moved to­ward her na­ked body and 
pressed my mouth to the soft curve of her warm thigh.

The air in the room be­came hot, close, im­possible to breathe. My mind felt as though it 
were on fire. My body twitched and throbbed at the strength of my arousal re­doubled it­self, 
threat­en­ing to ex­plode at any mo­ment.

With eager hands and mouths we worked at each other’s flesh, re­turn­ing fa­vor for 
fa­vor, thrill for thrill, gal­lop­ing to­gether after that su­preme mo­ment dangling 
tempt­ingly just bey­ond reach.

And then, as if on cue, I felt it start to hap­pen for me and sensed that Mona was shar­ing 
the same in­tense feel­ings. Wild now with the need to touch, to kiss, to feel hot quiv­er­ing 
cunt against me, I moved my­self even closer and worked to make it hap­pen for her, too.

And then, at the same time, we stiffened ly­ing ab­so­lutely still, sa­vor­ing the fi­nal 
mo­ments of re­lease be­fore we drif­ted slowly back­ward down to­ward sobri­ety.

Some­how I man­aged to stag­ger across to the other bed and crawl in na­ked 
un­der­neath the cov­ers.

“You mad at me or some­thing?” Mona asked as she came over to join me.

“No,” I answered sleepily. “I just need room to stretch out.”

“Okay, then,” she leaned over and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “See you in the 
morn­ing.” I didn’t an­swer, didn’t feel that com­ments were ne­ces­sary just now. But in­side 
I knew that when to­mor­row came, I’d have to tell Mona the truth.

The gay scene was not for me. It was fun, yes, but cer­tainly not on a per­man­ent basis.

Wo­men were nice.

But men were still my spe­cialty.

CHAPTER FIVE

I don’t know how it happened but Chuck man­aged to find out that I’d been to The Grove.
He was furi­ous. An­grier than I’d ever seen him. Im­possible to reason with.

“I don’t care if you were drunk,” he snapped at me. “The fact still re­mains that you were 
out with that dyke.”

“Don’t call her names. She’s my friend,” I snarled back.

“Some friend,” Chuck replied sar­castic­ally. “Did she con you into bed when you got 
home?”

I couldn’t bring my­self to tell him the truth. “No,” I lied, “as if it’s any of your busi­ness.”

“Well, isn’t it?” he glared at me mur­der­ously. “You know a guy can just take so much, 
Janie, and I think I’ve been very pa­tient with you.” My em­bar­rass­ment and shame 
com­bined and came out sound­ing like an­ger. “If you don’t like it, there are plenty of other 
girls on cam­pus,” I told him. “You’ll be gradu­at­ing next week any­how. You can lave school 
and for­get all about me, if that’s what you want.”

“You know that’s not what I want,” he said softly.

“Well, then, stop telling me what to do. Stop telling me how to live. I warned you that it 
was go­ing to be rough. Just re­mem­ber, I gave no­tice well in ad­vance.”

Chuck glanced nervously from side to side, eye­ing the other stu­dents around us in the 
cafet­eria. “Come on, let’s go for a ride,” he said, sud­denly get­ting to his feet. “You and I 
have a few things to talk about.” Without wait­ing, he turned and headed for the door.

I hur­ried after him, caught up in a burst of emo­tion that I did not quite un­der­stand. I 
knew that I was angry with him, re­sent­ful that he was try­ing to tell me what to do. Yet, on 
the other hand, I sensed that he might be run­ning out of pa­tience.

Of one thing, though, I was cer­tain. I didn’t want to lose him. Know­ing that he was 
al­ways there for me to fall back on was a tre­mend­ous re­as­sur­ance and I fully in­ten­ded 
to main­tain the status quo.

We drove for a long time without a word, each wrapped in his own thoughts. From time to
time, I glanced across in Chuck’s dir­ec­tion, try­ing to fig­ure out the best way to handle him.

I was sty­mied. For the first time since I’d met him he was as­sert­ing him­self, really 
as­sert­ing him­self. I ex­pec­ted that by now he would have backed down, would have given 
in, would have agreed to let me go on as I wanted, as I’d done in the past. A nag­ging 
aware­ness warned me that today he wasn’t go­ing to be so easy to handle.

“Where are we go­ing?” I called above the sound of the wind rush­ing past us as the 
con­vert­ible sped along the road.

“You’ll find out when we get there,” he answered without soften­ing his ex­pres­sion.

“Suit your­self,” I slumped down in the seat de­cid­ing that I might as well en­joy the ride 
as long as I had no choice in the mat­ter.

We rode for about half an hour be­fore I real­ized what he had in mind. Old faith­ful, I 
thought, chuck­ling in­wardly. Mushy, ro­mantic Chuck. He was head­ing back to the motel, 
to the place where we’d first gone to bed to­gether. It was only a couple of weeks ago, I 
real­ized. But some­how the stretch from then un­til now seemed end­less.

He even man­aged to rent the same room we’d used the last time.

“Well, aren’t you go­ing to say any­thing?” he turned to me with a half smile when the 
door was locked and we were alone in private.

I really didn’t want to be ar­gu­ment­at­ive but some­thing about his at­ti­tude riled me. It
seemed to me sud­denly that he had everything ar­ranged in his mind so neatly.

“What am I sup­posed to say?” I cracked, re­fus­ing to look him in the eye. “Am I 
sup­posed to look around this room, re­mem­ber the joys of my first roll in the hay and fall 
into your arms sob­bing with grat­it­ude? Am I sup­posed to real­ize that I’ve made some 
hor­rible mis­take, that I’ve al­most ruined my whole life by not de­liv­er­ing it into your 
hands on de­mand?”

His broad shoulders seemed to sag a little. “What do you want, Janie? What does it take to
make you happy? What do I have to do to get you to stop fight­ing me?”

“Just leave me be,” I replied, aware that my voice was quickly turn­ing shrill. “You don’t 
own me, Chuck.”

“I don’t want to own you.” His voice was softer now. “I just don’t want to share you with 
any­body and every­body who wants to get into your pants.”

“Is that what you think of me?” I looked at him as if I had a bad taste in my mouth.

“Okay, I take it back. Maybe I ex­ag­ger­ated a little. Still you’ve got to ad­mit, from where 
I stand, it’s kind of hard to keep calm.”

I took a deep breath, fight­ing to keep my pa­tience. “Why don’t you go out with other 
girls?” I sug­ges­ted. “Dis­tract your­self a little. You might even have some fun, I winked. A 
hand­some guy like you shouldn’t have any prob­lems.”

“I’ve been that route,” he told me again. “I’ve had them all. I’m tired, Janie. I want to settle 
down. I want one wo­man for keeps.”

“You may be tired, Chuck, but I’m just com­ing to life,” I told him. “You’ve no right to try 
and stop me.”

“How much liv­ing do you have to do?” he com­plained. “How long is this go­ing to go 
on? Is there no sat­is­fy­ing you? Is there no limit?”

“That’s for me to de­cide,” I in­sisted stub­bornly.

Sud­denly, the ar­gu­ment seemed fu­tile, point­less. “Come on,” I said, turn­ing to­ward 
the door. “Let’s get out of there. Let’s go back to school.”

He hur­ried across the room, grabbed me by the el­bow and turned me around to face 
him. “Please don’t go.” His eyes looked dull, clouded, beaten. “I don’t want you to go.” He 
moved me to­ward him.

I hur­ried into his arms, thank­ful for the al­tern­at­ive that had presen­ted it­self. Eagerly, 
I tilted my face up to­ward his, par­ted my lips.

His kiss was hungry, search­ing, pos­sess­ive. He slid his tongue into my mouth while his 
fin­gers curved over my hips press­ing into the soft flesh.

He was try­ing to break my spirit, I knew. Try­ing to wear me down by ap­peal­ing to my 
sexual ap­pet­ite. Well, that was fine, I told my­self. Just as long as I knew that giv­ing in to 
him in bed didn’t mean giv­ing in to him out of bed.

We stood in the cen­ter of the room wrapped in each other’s arms, bod­ies pressed close. 
I felt the hard­ness of his thighs and belly press­ing against mine, felt my breasts flat­ten 
be­neath the pres­sure of his chest, felt my in­sides quiver with re­sponse as his hands slid up 
and down my sides, onto my be­hind and lowered to the tops of my thighs.

The little whim­per­ings com­ing from his throat told me that Chuck, too, was start­ing to 
get dizzy with arousal. Hap­pily, I un­du­lated my belly against him, goad­ing him on, 
de­lighted to dis­tract him, to fog his mind with the close­ness of my body.

I felt power­ful, in con­trol. He would do any­thing for me, I real­ized. Any­thing at all as 
long as I got him ex­cited enough.

I felt my­self smil­ing in­side. Who did Chuck think he was kid­ding? He could never of­fer 
me an ul­ti­matum and make it stick. He was hooked on me but good. He’d never say no, not 
as long as he lived. I could do any­thing I damned pleased, and still have him to fall back on. It
was a per­fect setup.

We fell to­gether onto the bed, mak­ing little pleas­ure sounds as our hands ex­plored 
each other’s bod­ies, tug­ging at cloth­ing, dig­ging un­der­neath to­ward bare flesh, 
search­ing for in­tim­ate con­tact.

His fin­gers slid un­der the hem of my skirt and up to the top of my stock­ings. Boil­ing 
with de­sire, I po­si­tioned my­self to make room for his caress, in­vit­ing him to move higher,
ex­plore fur­ther, take me all the way over the top.

His hand squeezed my flesh through the thin ma­ter­ial of my panties, mak­ing me cry out
with the pleas­ure of it. I real­ized then, that I was glad to be with Chuck. Glad for the 
op­por­tun­ity to just be me, to re­lax and let my­self go en­tirely, to do whatever it was I 
wanted to do without fear of judg­ment or con­dem­na­tion or shame to­mor­row.

I reached for the but­tons of his shirt and star­ted to open them. When the ma­ter­ial 
par­ted, I leaned over and pressed my lips to the hard­ness of his chest, sa­vor­ing the sweet 
smell of his sun­tanned flesh, en­joy­ing the sen­sa­tion of little hair tick­ling across my lips 
and chin.

His hands got busy at the job of open­ing my blouse. He seemed to be all thumbs today, 
nervous, un­co­ordin­ated, like a school­boy do­ing it for the first time. But fi­nally, after what 
seemed like forever, he got the blouse open and yanked it down my arms.

He forced me flat onto my back and pressed his mouth into the crevice between the tops 
of my breasts. I sighed as his tongue snaked out and forced its way into my bra, tick­ling the 
sens­it­ive flesh there. Mak­ing me yearn to be com­pletely free of all cloth­ing.

Im­puls­ively, I doubled my arms be­hind my back, opened the in­con­veni­ent gar­ment. 
“Take it off,” I rasped. “Get rid of it.”

“Gladly,” he replied, pulling the bra down my arms and toss­ing it over his shoulder.

His mouth moved from one na­ked breast to the other, kiss­ing, suck­ing, wor­ship­ing 
each in turn.

I sighed and moaned as the throb­bing strengthened, start­ing at the nipples and 
re­ver­ber­at­ing all the way down to the bot­tom of my belly.

I thought, then, for a second, of Mona and ac­tu­ally felt sorry for her. That poor kid, I 
figured, she didn’t know what she was miss­ing. Didn’t know what she was do­ing without. 
Com­pared with today, last night never happened for me. It was that un­im­port­ant. Chuck’s 
lips moved down un­der­neath my breasts and then on to the curve of my stom­ach. As his 
mouth slid along just above the hem of my skirt I began to quiver with the need for an­other 
type of caress.

My fin­gers rushed to the but­tons at the side of my skirt but they were shak­ing too 
vi­ol­ently to func­tion.

“Never mind that,” Chuck said, no­ti­cing my help­less­ness. “There’s an­other way.” He 
grabbed the bot­tom of my skirt and pushed the ma­ter­ial up­ward, bunch­ing it high over 
my hips.

Giddy with ex­pect­a­tion, I lif­ted my but­tocks off the mat­tress sig­nal­ing him that it 
was time to get rid of the panties.

Chuck un­der­stood. Smil­ing, he slid his hands up the backs of my thighs un­til his 
fin­gers found the elastic waist­band. Grunt­ing softly, he tugged the flimsy gar­ment down 
over the curve of my be­hind and to my knees. I kicked it off the rest of the way.

I ex­pec­ted that he was go­ing to move for my garter belt next but he didn’t seem to 
mind it. Press­ing his hands against the backs of my knees, he forced my legs up over my 
chest. Then his mouth des­cen­ded swiftly.

I screamed with pleas­ure as his tongue found its mark and licked my cunt. He was an 
ex­pert. He knew ex­actly what I wanted, how to use his lips, his teeth, his tongue to drive me 
in­sane with hap­pi­ness.

I called his name again and again, de­li­ri­ous with the fever ra­ging through my burn­ing 
cunt.

I wanted to shift my po­s­i­tion, to touch him, to bring him to my level of ex­cite­ment, yet
I was power­less to move, power­less to stop him from do­ing those won­der­ful things to 
me.

And then, sud­denly, he seemed to re­mem­ber that he, too, had a right to en­joy 
him­self. Without a word, he rolled over to the other side of the bed and star­ted rip­ping off 
his own cloth­ing.

I seized my op­por­tun­ity to rid my­self of the skirt, the stock­ings and the garter belt. I 
didn’t care if I tore my cloth­ing, didn’t care about any­thing but mak­ing my­self na­ked.

Fi­nally, all my clothes were scattered across the floor and I threw my­self back onto the 
bed ready for Chuck’s re­turn – more than ready.

He crawled over me and lowered him­self care­fully onto my glisten­ing flesh. The weight 
of his body press­ing down against me made me gasp with de­light. I framed his face with my
hands and drew his mouth down over mine, suck­ing his tongue all the way in, show­ing him 
that I was his for the tak­ing.

He squeezed my breasts, my hips. Ran the heels of his hands over my stom­ach, along my 
thighs.

I rocked back and forth be­neath his touch, won­der­ing how long he was go­ing to 
tor­ture me, hop­ing that the delay would end soon. I wanted him with every bit of my be­ing,
needed to feel him pound­ing against me, filling me with the force of his love, over­power­ing
me com­pletely.

Sud­denly, he po­si­tioned me for the ul­ti­mate sur­render and moved slowly in my 
dir­ec­tion. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, wish­ing he’d hurry, wish­ing he’d send 
the force of his en­ergy crash­ing into me.

Chuck had other ideas. Slowly, mad­den­ingly slow, he moved closer. He took his time, 
tor­tur­ing me, driv­ing me in­sane with im­pa­tience.

I tried to get closer to him, tried to thrust my­self to­ward him but he man­aged to evade 
me, man­aged to hold me still.

“Come on,” I rasped. “Don’t hold out on me. I can’t stand it.” He laughed low in his throat. 
“Who do you love?.’ It was clearly an ul­ti­matum.

I would have cut off my right arm at that mo­ment just to end my agony. “You,” I groaned.

“You gonna marry me?”

“Yes, yes, any­thing, just don’t keep me wait­ing any more.”

“Is that a prom­ise?”

“I swear.” My voice soared.

“Good enough.”

He thrust him­self at me and sent me hurt­ling through the ec­stasy of sud­den, total 
ful­fill­ment. And then, as the sen­sa­tions began to ebb, Chuck’s pas­sion ex­ploded and our 
bod­ies be­came one twis­ted heap of hot, throb­bing flesh.

“We’ll get mar­ried right after gradu­ation,” he an­nounced after we’d res­ted for a while.

“We’ll what!” I sat up in the bed, re­fus­ing to be­lieve what I’d heard. “Come on, Chuck, 
don’t start all that again.”

“What are you talk­ing about?” His ex­pres­sion was total in­no­cence. “You prom­ised. 
Re­mem­ber?”

“You didn’t take that ser­i­ously, did you?”

“Of course I did!”

“Then it serves you right to be dis­ap­poin­ted,” I in­sisted. “That’s a hell of a time to ask a 
girl to marry you.”

“Then I’m ask­ing you now, will you?”

“Maybe.”

“What do you mean by that an­swer?”

“Just what I said.”

“Oh, for shit’s sake!” He threw his feet over the edge of the mat­tress and stormed across 
the room.

As I watched him, I felt the an­ger build­ing in­side of me. “Do I have to ex­plain it all to 
you again?” I asked.

“No,” he snapped venom­ously. “You don’t have to ex­plain a fuck­ing thing. I’ll tell you.” 
He walked to the foot of the bed and glared down to me an­grily. “Either you give up these 
crazy no­tions of yours or we’re fin­ished.”

“You’re full of crap.”

“Try me and see,” he warned. “A guy can take so much, and I’ve had more than enough.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do.”

“Fine,” I growled, get­ting to my feet and reach­ing down for my panties. “I can do without
you, too, Chuck Mor­ris!”

“We’ll see about that.”

“You bet we will,” I snapped, slid­ing into my bra.

“Now you can really have your­self a ball,” he rasped. He gathered up his own cloth­ing. 
“You can make every last per­son on cam­pus. You can hop from one fra­tern­ity house to the 
next, spread­ing your legs for every­one.”

“I hate you.”

“That goes both ways.”

“For your in­form­a­tion, I’ve never been to bed with a fra­tern­ity man,” I in­formed him.

“How’d you man­age to over­look that?” he snarled. “I thought you were giv­ing 
every­body a chance.”

“Maybe I will,” I yelled de­fi­antly.

“I’m sure you will,” he answered in kind.

“I prom­ise I will,” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

We left the motel room en­emies.

* * *

I was mad. Boil­ing mad. Mad­der than I’d ever been in my life.

Nobody was go­ing to talk to me like that, I vowed, fum­ing in­wardly. Nobody had the 
right to live my life for me. Dam­mit, I was go­ing to do ex­actly as I pleased, any­thing in the 
whole world that I wanted to do.

I’d show Chuck. I’d fix him but good.

He could go to his stink­ing Senior Prom without me.

I an­nounced my de­cision, slammed out of the car and walked into my dorm­it­ory 
without look­ing back once. Who the hell did he think he was any­way? I could do without 
him. Make out fine on my own, he’d see and he’d be sorry for mak­ing waves.

Mona was sit­ting in her usual cross-legged po­s­i­tion on her bed when I ar­rived. As I 
slammed the door loudly be­hind me she looked up from the book she was read­ing.

“How’s tricks today?” She man­aged a cheer­ful, easy­going tone, but I knew she was not 
re­laxed.

“Lousy, if you want to know the truth.”

“All that hangover from just a couple of beers?” I knew what she was get­ting at, what she 
was afraid of. “This has noth­ing to do with last night,” I as­sured her. “Noth­ing to do with 
you.”

“Man trouble?”

“Ex­actly.”

“Thought so,” she muttered. “The guilty j morn­ing after the night be­fore.”

“I told you it’s not that way.”

“Then what way is it?”

I sat down at the edge of her bed, need­ing for some­body to un­der­stand me, to agree 
with me. “Mona, tell me, why can’t he just let me j live my own life?” I asked. “Why does he 
have to own me?”

“Sounds to me like he’s just be­ing sin­cere, like he loves you.”

“Well, if he loves you, why doesn’t he let me breathe? Why doesn’t he let me live?”

“Seems to me like you’ve been do­ing a lot of liv­ing if you ask me.” Her eyes twinkled 
with amuse­ment.

“But I’ve only just star­ted,” I pro­tested. “It’s not fair. Chuck’s had his fun, he told me 
him­self. For the last three years he’s done noth­ing but hop from one wo­man’s bed to 
an­other.”

“Maybe he didn’t en­joy it.”

“So does that mean that I’m not en­titled to the chance to find out for my­self?” She 
shrugged. “Don’t ask me, Janie. I’m not ex­actly the world’s au­thor­ity on man-wo­man 
re­la­tions.”

“Well, you must have some idea, some opin­ion as to what I should do.”

“Am I sup­posed to be hon­est or just listen?” she asked.

“Of course you’re sup­posed to be hon­est. Why do you think I’m both­er­ing to tell you 
all this?”

“Okay, I’ll tell you what I think.” She leaned for­ward, look­ing dir­ectly into my eyes. “If I 
can’t have you, I think Chuck’s your best al­tern­at­ive. I think you should marry him, settle 
down and have four dozen kids.”

I jumped off the bed and turned my back to her, trem­bling with ir­rit­a­tion. Nobody 
knew what I was talk­ing about, I told my­self miser­ably. If I ex­plained un­til I was hoarse, 
un­til I was blue in the face, they still wouldn’t un­der­stand me.

It didn’t mat­ter, I in­sisted stub­bornly. I un­der­stood me. I knew what I wanted and if 
any­body didn’t like it, they could fuck them­selves.

* * *

I knew I was be­ing spite­ful, ju­ven­ile, but I couldn’t help my­self, couldn’t con­trol the 
force in­side that was com­pel­ling me to get even with Chuck, to have the last laugh, to show
him who wouldn’t do without whom.

I was go­ing to go to that senior prom any­way, I de­cided. And I was go­ing to go with 
someone else, someone who would make Chuck good and jeal­ous, someone who would 
of­fer him some stiff com­pet­i­tion. Someone who would show him that I could get along 
without him just fine.

I mulled the idea over in my head. I needed someone pop­u­lar, someone de­sir­able, 
someone as hand­some and as sought after as Chuck.

Barry James. The cap­tain of the bas­ket­ball team. He was the most lo­gical choice.

It wasn’t go­ing to be easy, I real­ized. Barry was a big man on cam­pus, an op­er­ator. He 
must have dozens of girls flock­ing around him, flip­ping over back­wards to get his 
at­ten­tion.

Still, I felt I could do it, felt I could dis­tract him long enough to get what I wanted. I’d just 
have to make my­self avail­able, I knew. Make an of­fer that no guy could res­ist, least of all a 
fel­low like Barry James with a repu­ta­tion to main­tain. It wouldn’t do for the world to know 
that he’d turned down the chance to make it with a pretty girl.

It was settled in my mind. Barry was go­ing to take me, no mat­ter what I had to do to 
ar­range it.

I knew him only cas­u­ally but I didn’t let that dis­cour­age me. No prob­lem get­ting 
close to a boy if he was in­ter­ested, I en­cour­aged my­self. I’d just make it my busi­ness to 
get him in­ter­ested.

Quickly I star­ted to strip off my cloth­ing. With any luck, Barry would be over at The 
Hutch, a pop­u­lar cam­pus hangout for let­ter­men.

“What’s up now?” Mona said, eye­ing me openly as I cross-armed my sweater over my 
head.

“I’ve got plans,” I told her. “Big plans.”

“Sounds to me like you’re head­ing for trouble.”

“Maybe.” I opened the but­tons on my skirt and let the gar­ment fall to the floor.

“How about a cup of cof­fee, maybe you’ll calm down.”

“No thanks. I’ve got other ideas.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

I felt my lips curving up into a wicked smile as I un­hooked my bra and tossed it onto my 
bed.

Mona looked away from me, col­or­ing no­tice­ably. “Don’t you ever rest?” she 
mur­mured.

“I don’t need to rest,” I said, wig­gling out of my panties. “The more ac­tion I get, the 
bet­ter I like it.”

She looked at me, her face deadly ser­i­ous. “Is there any­thing I can do to help?”

“Afraid not. I’ve got to settle mat­ters in my own way.”

“And why is that, ex­actly?” I winked. “That’s my secret.” Without an­other word, I grabbed 
my robe and hur­ried off to the shower.

The wa­ter felt good on my na­ked flesh. I closed my eyes and turned my face into the 
spray, al­low­ing the warmth to ease the ten­sion out of my limbs.

Re­lax­ing a bit, I al­lowed the im­age of Barry James to form clearly in my mind’s eye. Not
bad, I told my­self, re­mem­ber­ing his hard, mus­cu­lar physique, his quick boy­ish smile. I 
could do a lot worse, I knew, a hell of a lot worse.

I ar­ranged my ap­pear­ance care­fully, mak­ing sure to show off what I had to its best 
ad­vant­age. The light­weight, blue sleeve­less sweater hugged my breasts, out­lining them 
clearly, tempt­ingly. Tight, tapered slacks fit­ted over my be­hind like a second skin, 
ac­cen­tu­at­ing my tiny waist­line.

No guy would pass up a pack­age like this, I prom­ised my­self, ob­serving the fin­ished 
product in the mir­ror. Re­venge was go­ing to be fun.

I was in luck. The minute I walked into The Hutch, I stopped him, hunched over the 
counter sur­roun­ded by ad­mirers. Cas­u­ally, I sauntered up be­side him, jut­ting my breasts
for­ward, ar­ran­ging a bright smile on my face. “Hi, Barry.”

He turned around and his fea­tures widened into a grin as his eyes swept over the length 
of my body. “I know, the face, but the name?”

“Janie,” I re­minded him.

“Oh, yes, of course, now I re­mem­ber.”

He was a lousy liar, but I didn’t hold it against him. Those big baby-blue eyes of his told 
me all I needed to know. He was in­ter­ested.

The rest, I figured, would be a snap.

I was right. With a little en­cour­age­ment, he turned ag­gress­ive.

Hap­pily, I let him think it was his idea to buy me a soda, his idea to take me for a ride in 
his car, his idea to get me away from the oth­ers.

When we were alone in his con­vert­ible, I leaned back and lit a ci­gar­ette, gaz­ing up at 
the sky, al­low­ing him a good view of my pro­file from head to toe.

And I knew he was look­ing, too. I could prac­tic­ally feel his eyes bor­ing into my flesh, 
un­dress­ing me, tak­ing in the sights of every curve clearly out­lined be­neath the ma­ter­ial 
of my cloth­ing.

“How come we’ve never done this be­fore?” he asked, sound­ing cas­ual.

“You never ex­ten­ded the in­vit­a­tion,” I smiled coyly at him, let­ting him know without 
words that I was in­ter­ested, too.

“You don’t have to go right back to the dorm, do you?”

“Not at all. What’d you have in mind?”

“There’s a great disco in town, that is, if you like to dance.”

“My fa­vor­ite hobby.” I made my­self sound very en­thu­si­astic. I would have agreed to 
any­thing, then, even ti­ger-hunt­ing, any­thing to keep him around and make him want me.

The Grotto was a big New Eng­land-style house that had been con­ver­ted into a 
nightclub for the col­lege crowd. As Barry steered his car into the park­ing lot, my mind was 
work­ing double time, plan­ning my strategy.

It would be easy enough to wind up in bed with him, I knew. But that’s not what I wanted. 
I needed to tease him, to work him up good and proper. To get him to the point where he 
wanted me real bad. And then, at the last mo­ment, I had to turn him down without 
of­fend­ing him, so he’d try again.

A slow smile re­shaped my mouth as the an­swer came to me. I con­grat­u­lated my­self 
on my re­source­ful­ness, my cun­ning. It was go­ing to be very simple. All I had to do was 
get Barry drunk. Good and drunk. Drunk enough so hat his spirit would be will­ing but his 
flesh would be weak. Then he couldn’t blame me if noth­ing happened in bed. And when he 
got sober, he’d make it his busi­ness to try again.

En­cour­aged by the lo­gic of my plan, I hooked my arm through his and ac­com­pan­ied 
him in­side, eager to be­gin, eager to set the whole thing turn­ing, to bring about my 
re­venge.

The mu­sic over­shad­owed everything else, loud, boom­ing, bois­ter­ous. It rocked 
through the room, shock­ing me ini­tially, de­mand­ing my at­ten­tion.

“Pretty wild, isn’t it?” Barry called above the sounds.

“You can say that again,” I answered, mo­ment­ar­ily blinded by the flash­ing lights that 
were blink­ing every­where all at once.

It was early but the place was crowded with stu­dents eager to get high and have 
them­selves a good time. Every­one seemed happy. With the end of the term only days away, 
the work load was light. This was the best time for so­cial­iz­ing, the time of year when there 
were count­less parties to at­tend, the time when every­one was in a rush to get sum­mer 
ro­mances star­ted.

Barry was no ex­cep­tion. He turned on the charm a foot thick, fig­ur­ing, I sup­pose, that 
I was just an­other one of those empty-headed girls who wouldn’t be able to res­ist him.

I let him pro­ceed as he wished, pre­tend­ing to take him very ser­i­ously, pre­tend­ing to 
be im­pressed by his every word.

He was a fool. Over­con­fid­ent, smug, con­ceited bey­ond be­lief.

I watched the way he used his girls. Heard the way he mod­u­lated his deep, me­lodi­ous 
voice. No­ticed how he man­aged to show off his muscles without ap­pear­ing as if he meant 
to.

And all the time, I made sure he kept drink­ing, while I just sipped slowly, wisely.

I’ll say this for Barry James. He sure knew how to use what he had to turn a girl on. If I 
hadn’t been so pre­oc­cu­pied with my own motives, I might eas­ily have fallen for him, 
des­pite the fact that he loved him­self best.

I re­mem­ber feel­ing it start when we were on the dance floor, that pleas­antly 
ir­rit­at­ing sen­sa­tion deep in the pit of my stom­ach that strengthened and grew as our 
bod­ies pressed close to­gether.

“I’m glad we came,” Barry whispered against my ear. “Aren’t you?” I nod­ded, snug­gling a 
little closer, re­volving my belly against the front of his body, goad­ing him on. “I’m hav­ing a 
blast,” I whispered in the sin­cerest tone I could man­age.

Nat­ur­ally, Barry figured it was his big, mus­cu­lar, gor­geous self that was re­spons­ible 
for my good time. He was like a pea­cock strut­ting around the dance floor show­ing him­self 
off for my be­ne­fit. Let­ting me know without words how lucky I was to have landed a hunk 
like him.

I played along, of course, let­ting him think he had me starry-eyed. What did I care what 
he thought of me, I told my­self, as long as he did what I wanted him to do, as long as he 
helped me along in my little plan.

And all the while, as Barry thought he was hand­ling me, it was I who really handled him.

“This stuff is start­ing to get to me,” he said when we re­turned to the bar and he’d 
star­ted through his third drink.

“Come on, a big strong guy like you must be able to handle his li­quor.” Poor Barry. He 
had no choice. How could he dis­agree with me and save face? How could he ad­mit that he 
wasn’t a su­per­man? By the time an­other hour had gone by, Barry’s eyes were turn­ing 
blood­shot and his speech was be­com­ing slurred. His dan­cing wasn’t so hot either 
be­cause he couldn’t al­ways fol­low the rhythm of the mu­sic.

I, of course, couldn’t have been hap­pier, couldn’t have been more pleased with my­self. I 
let him think I was get­ting drunk along with him. All the time, I re­mained cold sober.

He was in no shape to no­tice the shots of li­quor that I dumped into empty glasses on 
the crowded bar. He was too busy try­ing to im­press me, too busy im­press­ing him­self with
the no­tion that I was over­whelmed by him.

When he fi­nally sug­ges­ted that we leave I agreed read­ily, fig­ur­ing that he’d be a 
cinch to handle. When we got out­side, the fresh night air fin­ished him off com­pletely. He 
couldn’t walk a straight line. Couldn’t com­plete a sen­tence. Couldn’t think straight.

It didn’t take much ef­fort for me to get the car keys. With Barry slumped in the seat 
be­side me, I steered out of the park­ing lot and headed for a sec­tion where I knew there’d 
be quiet coun­try roads.

I had to keep my­self from laugh­ing out loud as I found a deser­ted lane and pulled the 
car in un­der a clump of trees. Be­side me, Barry was snor­ing loudly, dead to the world. 
Romeo had konked out.

“Come on, wake up,” I whispered, nudging him with my el­bow when I’d turned off the 
mo­tor and the light.

Barry blinked in the dark­ness. “Where are we?” he mumbled.

“In a very ro­mantic set­ting,” I told him. “I couldn’t wait to get you alone.” He looked at 
me sus­pi­ciously. “Is this some kind of a joke? Are you put­ting me on, Janie?”

“Tell me if this feels like a put-on.” I leaned across the dis­tance between us and covered 
his mouth with my own, slid­ing my tongue far in past his lips.

He was drunk, but not drunk enough to be numb. I heard his sharp in­take of breath, felt 
his body tense with aware­ness, with re­sponse.

“That’s bet­ter,” I mur­mured when my head was rest­ing com­fort­ably on his shoulder. “I
was afraid you’d lost in­terest in me.”

“Never, baby, never,” he drawled, his words thickened by the al­co­hol. “Barry never passes
up a chance at a good-look­ing girl.”

I smiled to my­self. That was just the at­ti­tude I’d been count­ing on.

I ran my fin­ger­tips over his cheek and down into the open­ing of his col­lar. “I’m sorry 
we didn’t get to­gether a lot sooner than this,” I whispered, try­ing my damnd­est to sound 
like I meant it.

“No sense cry­ing over spilled milk.” He shif­ted his po­s­i­tion slightly in the seat and 
wound his arm around me.

His kiss was sloppy but it was en­thu­si­astic. I forced my­self to en­dure the taste of 
li­quor, prom­ising my­self that any sac­ri­fice would be worth­while in the long run.

And then it began, si­lent, ques­tion­ing fin­gers inch­ing up my side, mov­ing ever so 
slowly to­ward my breast.

I wound my arms around Barry’s neck and moved a little closer, en­cour­aging him to 
con­tinue. He was test­ing me now I knew, ex­per­i­ment­ing to see how far I’d let him go, 
which was ex­actly what I wanted.

When his hand reached the un­der­side of my breast, I sighed loud enough for him to 
hear and mas­saged the nape of his neck with my fin­ger­tips.

That was all he wanted. Groan­ing softly, he moved his palm up and cupped the mound of
flesh, squeez­ing softly through the ma­ter­ial of my sweater, search­ing for the nipple with 
his thumb. I didn’t have to pre­tend much longer. As his fin­gers teased that sens­it­ive point 
of my flesh, I felt my ex­cite­ment ap­pear in earn­est. Squirm­ing against him, I closed my 
eyes and let the lovely sen­sa­tions of de­sire warm my flesh.

His hand moved down to the bot­tom of my sweater and reached un­der­neath onto the 
bar skin of my belly. I trembled be­neath his hand, eager sud­denly to be free of my cloth­ing.
I wished that we were in bed, wished that we were some­place where we could stretch out 
and really en­joy each other.

It was im­possible for him to un­hook the clasps of my bra. Barry was all thumbs. 
Grunt­ing, mut­ter­ing ob­scen­it­ies, he fought and tugged and fi­nally gave up.

“Here, let me,” I offered, reach­ing be­hind my­self to help.

A mo­ment later, the elastic par­ted, Barry grabbed my sweater and pushed it up along 
with the bra. His eyes widened as my na­ked breasts came into view only inches away from his
quiv­er­ing mouth.

Groan­ing, he lowered his lips onto the soft­ness of my flesh, kiss­ing me, suck­ling like a 
baby, mov­ing eagerly, hun­grily, from one mound to the other.

I let my head fall back against the car seat as the moist warm con­tact heightened my 
de­sire. I must be over­sexed, I told my­self. Barry was by far the clum­si­est lover I’d ever run 
across, and yet he’d man­aged to turn me on good and strong.

Eager for an­other kind of caress, I reached out, found his hand and guided it down onto 
the curve of my knee.

Barry seemed to freeze for a mo­ment, then, ap­par­ently, he got the mes­sage and 
star­ted to slide his hand up un­der­neath my skirt.

I shif­ted my po­s­i­tion to make room for him as his fin­gers reached the top of my 
stock­ings and set my cunt quiv­er­ing with de­sire. My hips began to move slowly up and 
down and I felt as though I were go­ing to scream in one more second if he didn’t do what I 
needed him to do.

His head moved slowly down­ward un­til it came to rest on my shoulder and he was soon 
asleep.

“Barry, wake up.” I reached for his shoulder and shook him. “Come on, Barry, boy, rise and 
shine.”

He grunted and his eyes blinked open.

I clenched my teeth, fight­ing not to lose con­trol. His hand was still high on my thigh, 
press­ing against the na­ked cunt, teas­ing me.

“Re­mem­ber what you were do­ing, Barry?” I crooned. “Re­mem­ber the fun we were 
hav­ing?”

He stared at me al­most as though he didn’t re­cog­nize me.

It was time for des­per­ate ac­tion. I slid my hands onto his face and drew his mouth down
over mine.

Barry’s memory re­turned quickly. In a mo­ment, his fin­gers were mov­ing again, up to 
the edge of my panties, un­der­neath them hem, onto bare flesh.

I groaned with re­lief and de­sire as his caress turned know­ing, pur­pose­ful. My fin­gers 
fluttered through his hair, down the back of his neck, un­der­neath his shirt col­lar.

His touch be­came rhythmic, mas­ter­ful.

I slid my ass around on the seat, pulled Barry to­ward me and guided us both down­ward. 
There wasn’t too much room but it was bet­ter than noth­ing, I told my­self, try­ing to find 
some place for my legs as they kept banging into the far door.

Barry didn’t seem to be dis­com­for­ted by the cramped quar­ters. He was slid­ing my 
skirt up­ward now over my knees, my thighs, bunch­ing it around my hips.

His hand moved up to the top of my panties and tugged them. I arched my middle 
co­oper­at­ively, wish­ing he’d hurry up, wish­ing he’d go back to what he’d been do­ing just 
mo­ments ago.

Barry seemed to have read my thoughts. The minute my panties hit the floor of the car, his
hand re­turned to caress the soft­ness of my leg through the stock­ings.

“Higher,” I rasped. “Do it, there.” I grabbed his wrist and moved it along my body.

Barry sighed as he touched my na­ked belly, mov­ing his fin­gers over the smooth flesh, 
driv­ing me wild with hun­ger.

I lif­ted my knees up­ward and re­volved my hips, beg­ging him through my ac­tions, 
telling him without words that I needed so des­per­ately.

He lay down again and placed his head on my shoulder. “It’s so nice to be next to you like 
this,” he crooned. “So com­fort­able.”

It was a lovely sen­ti­ment but I was in the mood for other things. It was ac­tion I wanted, 
not pretty words.

Des­per­ate now, I reached for him and tugged him to­ward me. Agree­ably, he al­lowed 
him­self to be moved.

He was dead weight, a ton of lead press­ing heav­ily on top of me, crush­ing me 
un­der­neath him, squeez­ing the air out of my lungs.

I thrust my hips up­ward and kissed him full in the mouth, try­ing my damnd­est to spark 
a little life in him.

He grunted some­thing in­aud­ible, yawned and passed out cold.

I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. The joke was on me, I real­ized. My little 
scheme had back­fired.

Some­how I man­aged to get Barry back into the pas­sen­ger seat. Then, dis­mayed at my
own stu­pid­ity, I fixed my clothes and made my­self present­able. I dropped him off in front 
of his frat house and de­livered him into the hands of his bud­dies.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him,” one of his fra­tern­ity broth­ers as­sured me. “You 
really must have knocked him out.”

I was about to ex­plain, to cor­rect the mis­taken im­pres­sion, but then I de­cided it 
wasn’t worth the ef­fort. Let them think whatever they wanted, I told my­self. What did it 
mat­ter?

The long, quiet walk back to my dorm helped to quiet my jit­tery nerves. And by the time I
reached the front steps I was no longer up­set.

Of course, there was still the phys­ical frus­tra­tion. I’d done what I wanted to do, my work
done well.

Now all that was left was for me to wait for that in­ev­it­able phone call to­mor­row.

That night when I got to my room, I did some­thing that I had never done be­fore in my 
life. I don’t know all the reas­ons that made me do it, but I guess most of them had to do with
the fact of his let­ting me down after I got all hot and worked up in the car.

When I stepped into the room, I didn’t see Mona. I figured she had prob­ably gone down 
to The Grove for some of her les­bian ac­tion. I was alone and I was hot.

At that mo­ment, I would have even fucked Mona if she were here. I was jit­tery and 
nervous. The throb­bing in my cunt was some­thing that could not be denied and I knew that 
I had to find some way of get­ting off steam. There had to be some­thing that I could do but 
the thought of frig­ging my­self was some­thing that was re­puls­ive. It was some­thing that 
sick little girls do and not big girls who could have any man that they wanted and just been 
out with the biggest man on cam­pus.

But still, I thought back on all the other things I had done and I knew that a lot of people 
thought that they were sick and I knew that they were not.

So maybe they were wrong about mas­turb­a­tion, too.

In any case, I was de­term­ined to find out.

I went into the bed­room and took off all my clothes very slowly as if some young man 
was do­ing it for me. I tried to pic­ture some face­less, ter­rific stranger un­dress­ing me and 
mak­ing me quiver with the ex­cite­ment I was feel­ing in my cunt.

I was great and it was a lot bet­ter than I ever thought it would be. I was get­ting turned 
on by the touch and the feel of my own hand and I was lik­ing it very, very much.

I stood in front of the mir­ror and watched the re­flec­tion of my body. It was nice to look 
at and I knew that I was be­ing very nar­ciss­istic but I could not help it. It was just that my 
frus­tra­tion had got­ten the bet­ter of me and I fell prey to it.

My hands crawled all over me and I went down there to the sweet damp­ness of my cunt. I
was wet and drippy with the juices that had star­ted to flow from me back in the car and I 
knew that I was still rel­ish­ing the touch and the taste of that man I was with be­fore.

My breath­ing be­came short and pant­ing as I stroked the little nub­bin of my clit. I knew
just what to do to get my­self nice and hot and I knew that I could give my­self a great 
or­gasm if I wanted.

It was odd that I had never done this be­fore. It was even odder be­cause so many girls 
told me that they did. I began to feel I was the odd one now, for never hav­ing it done.

My fin­ger poked around the area of my clit and I began to tease and coax my­self as if I 
were a boy do­ing this to an­other wo­man. The feel­ing that I got was some­thing that I had 
never ima­gined and I knew that soon I would be com­ing and hav­ing a ter­rific cli­max.

My hand was be­gin­ning to get wet and sticky with the juices that were com­ing out of 
me and I reveled in the feel of my own cunt sauce.

It was bet­ter than any­thing that had happened to me that night and all the worry and 
the guilt van­ished when I felt the tremors of pas­sion shoot through me.

It was mak­ing my head spin and I saw the rising and the fall­ing of my tits up and down 
on my chest.

I reached up and took one of the nipples in my hands and squeezed it hard between my 
fin­gers. The feel­ings and the sen­sa­tions I got were not as good as the feel­ings that I got 
when a boy did that, but I knew that it would have to do un­til I got my hands on an­other 
cock.

Then sud­denly, be­fore I real­ized it, the feel­ings were com­ing to a head and I was 
about to come.

When it did, it was the most dis­ap­point­ing or­gasm that I ever had in my life.

It left me empty and some­what cold and hardly sat­is­fied at all. It was as if just the body 
and the ten­sion in my cunt was happy, but the spir­itual part of the sexual act was miss­ing. I 
was all alone but at least it got me tired and al­lowed me to fall asleep.

I hoped that I would be hear­ing from that big jock the next day and thought about how 
good it would be when that cer­tain per­son found who was tak­ing me out these days and 
fuck­ing me.

CHAPTER SIX

Sure enough, bright and early the next morn­ing I got a phone call. But it wasn’t from 
Barry.

“It’s not im­port­ant whether or not you’re mad at me... I’m telling you, I have to talk to 
you, Janie.”

“Thanks. Not in­ter­ested, Chuck.”

“You can’t af­ford not to be in­ter­ested. This is for your own good. I’m warn­ing you, 
Janie, you’re mak­ing a big mis­take by be­ing so stub­born.”

“I can af­ford to make mis­takes if I want to.”

“Not like this, you can’t. You’re play­ing with fire.”

“I’ve done that be­fore.”

“All right, so you’ve been lucky. Every­body’s luck runs out sooner or later.”

“Good­bye, Chuck.”

“Janie, wait, please listen to me...”

“I’m go­ing to count to ten be­fore I hang up!”

“I’ve got to talk to you...”

“One-two-three...”

“I know about you and Barry James.”

“What!”

“Every­body knows.”

“What ex­actly are you try­ing to get across, Chuck?”

“I don’t want to talk about this over the phone. Will you meet me?”

“Pick me up down­stairs.”

“How soon?”

“Half an hour,” I replied, fig­ur­ing Barry would cer­tainly call by that time and it’d be safe 
to leave.

Fif­teen minutes later the phone rang and I wasn’t wrong.

“Good morn­ing.” Barry soun­ded groggy, hun­gover.

“I don’t really think you mean that,” I cracked, chuck­ling into the tele­phone.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess I had a little too much.”

“Just a little.”

“I called to see if you’re busy today,” he told me.

“I don’t know, I might be,” I replied in a tone that told him I wasn’t really hard to get.

“All right, I’ll be more spe­cific. How about much?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” I felt my­self smil­ing in­side and out. “What time?”

“Noon.”

“Great. You’ll pick me up?”

“My pleas­ure.”

I couldn’t help look­ing a little smug’ when I v went down­stairs to meet Chuck. Poor guy. 
He looked like he’s just lost his best friend. His eyes were dull. He needed a shave. His 
shoulders were droop­ing.

“Good morn­ing,” I chirped mer­rily, twist­ing the knife with my smile. “Glad to see you so 
chip­per.”

“Okay, knock it off,” Chuck snapped. “You don’t have to be sad­istic.”

“I’m not be­ing any­thing,” I told him. “I’m just en­joy­ing life. Any ob­jec­tions?”

“Had break­fast?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Mind if I have some?”

“What’s on your mind?” I in­sisted.

“I’ll tell you over cof­fee.”

“I really don’t know how to put this,” Chuck began, when he was halfway through a 
por­tion of ba­con and eggs.

“There’s no need to beat around the bush,” I in­formed him. “Just tell him straight out 
what it is you think you know.”

“You’re mak­ing a big mis­take, Janie.”

“You’ve already told me that. If you don’t have any­thing else to add, I’ll be go­ing now.” 
He sighed tiredly. “I’m only telling you this be­cause I still think of you as a friend.”

“Thanks a heap.”

“You know how ru­mors and gos­spip spread in a school like this.”

“For cry­ing out loud, Chuck,” I said, ex­as­per­ated. “Will you please get to the point?”

“Okay, you asked for it, every­body’s say­ing that you and Barry James went out last night, 
got stoned and made it. And that the two of you had such a good time that you had to bring 
Barry back to his frat house.”

“Is that all?”

“Well, isn’t that enough?”

I shrugged. Big deal. People will talk, you know.”

“Barry’s the one who’s talk­ing, Janie.”

“I don’t be­lieve it.”

“Who else would be in a po­s­i­tion to start such a story?” I thought about it for a 
mo­ment and real­ized he was right and then dis­missed the whole sub­ject from my mind. 
“Okay, so Barry’s got a bit mouth, so what?” I said.

“Don’t you real­ize what a repu­ta­tion like that can do to a girl?”

“Sticks and stones and all that jazz...”

“Stop kid­ding around, this is ser­i­ous, Janie. You can’t just let every guy on cam­pus think
you’re the kind of girl who puts out at the drop of a hat.”

“What do I care what they think?”

“You’re go­ing to get a lot of date of­fers, for all the wrong reas­ons.”

“I know how to say no,” I stood up. “I’m a big girl, Chuck.”

“Ap­par­ently not big enough to take care of your­self...”

“Now look here, I never had an older brother and I like it fine that way.”

“Maybe that’s what you needed,” His voice was grow­ing louder.

“I don’t need any­thing of the sort, and es­pe­cially not you.” I turned and walked away 
from the table, de­lighted to be out of his com­pany, eager for the time to come when I’d be 
with Barry again. When I’d be with a guy who wasn’t wor­ried about my mor­als, about my 
repu­ta­tion. A guy who didn’t want to tie me down and run my life.

A guy who just wanted fun and games with no com­mit­ments. And no re­grets.

* * *

He was like putty in my hands. The minute I laid eyes on Barry, I knew he was mine for the 
tak­ing.

Gone was the swag­ger, the bravado. Deep circles framed his eyes. He looked pale, drawn, 
tired but still hope­ful.

“Where would you like to go for lunch?” he asked.

“Any place is okay with me,” I answered, as he opened the car door for me and waited till I 
was in­side.

“How much time have you got?” he in­quired as he steered the car out into the street.

“All day,” I told him. “What’d you have in mind?”

“I know a nice little res­taur­ant over­look­ing a har­bor. It’s about an hour’s drive.” I 
smiled, con­fid­ent that the situ­ation was well in my con­trol. “Drive on,” I told him. “I’m all 
yours.” I could tell that he liked that re­mark and read his own mean­ing into it. Barry 
brightened vis­ibly and winked at me. “Re­mem­ber that,” he said, “for later.” Just as Barry had
prom­ised, the res­taur­ant had a beau­ti­ful view. We sat quietly for a few minutes gaz­ing 
out through the plate glass win­dow at the tiny boats eas­ing across the wa­ter.

It was Barry who broke the si­lence. “About last night,” he began.

I looked dir­ectly at him. “If you’re go­ing to apo­lo­gize, I don’t want to hear it.” His 
ex­pres­sion changed to one of ab­so­lute be­wil­der­ment. “I swear, I don’t un­der­stand 
you, Janie.” I chuckled. “You’re not the first and you won’t be the last.”

“Any other girl would...”

“I’m not any other girl,” I cut him off sharply.

“Then you’ll let me see you again?”

“What do you think?”

He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “When?” There it was. The per­fect 
open­ing. The per­fect mo­ment. “Next Sat­urday night.”

“But that’s Prom night.”

“So?” My ex­pres­sion chal­lenged him, dared him to back out.

“You know, I never thought of that.

“Would you like to...” I nod­ded. “Yes, I’d like to very much.” He laughed softly.

“What’s so funny?”

“I know a girl who’s gonna be mad as hell at me.”

“Why?” I pre­ten­ded not to un­der­stand.

“For break­ing a date.”

“You think it’s worth the trouble?” I teased.

His ex­pres­sion told me that he re­membered everything about last night really. “There’s 
no doubt in my mind about that,” he said.

On the way back to school when Barry turned the car off the road, I knew he was in the 
mood for an­other sample. But I knew also that if I let him have his way I’d be run­ning the 
risk of los­ing that Prom in­vit­a­tion.

His arms were strong as he scooped me into his em­brace and ground his lips down hard 
over mine.

I ac­cep­ted the length of his tongue into my mouth and closed my eyes, in­dul­ging 
my­self in a few mo­ments of pleas­ure just for the hell of it.

I in­haled the odor of his after-shave, felt the fin­gers of his hand slid­ing down along my 
spine, rub­bing slow, small circles just above my hips.

I moved a little closer in his em­brace, en­joy­ing the near­ness of him, the in­tens­ity that 
I sensed grow­ing in his cock.

He wasn’t shy now, wasn’t awk­ward. His hand moved onto my breast and cupped the 
full­ness. I felt a little tremor of arousal spread­ing out­ward be­neath his touch, and for a 
second I thought about giv­ing in and for­get­ting everything else but the need in­creas­ing 
in­side me.

But only for .a second. Then I re­turned to my senses. Shack­ing up with Barry would be 
kicks, I knew. But hav­ing the last laugh where Chuck was con­cerned was more im­port­ant 
to me. I still wanted Chuck to come around to my way of think­ing. To ac­cept my terms. To let
me bum the candle at both ends.

“I think we’d bet­ter be on our way now,” I whispered, when I’d slid my palms onto Barry’s 
chest and pushed him a few inches away from me.

“Come on, baby, there’s no rush.”

“You’re be­ing greedy,” I told him, smil­ing just enough to let him know that I wasn’t really 
mad.

“You bet your life I’m greedy,” he star­ted to­ward me again.

“Do I have to get out and walk?” My voice came out strong, de­term­ined and 
un­yield­ing.

He looked me over care­fully as if try­ing to make up his mind whether I really meant it.

“How come you’re so dif­fer­ent today?” he asked.

“I func­tion bet­ter at night,” I told him, grin­ning.

“Well, then, how about it. You want to go out to­night?”

“I’m busy.”

“How about to­mor­row night then?”

“I’m busy, every night un­til the Prom.”

“I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

“Is that an ul­ti­matum?”

He sighed tiredly. “I guess not.”

I leaned over and kissed him briefly on the cheek. “I’m glad you said that,” I whispered.

“Why?”

“Be­cause I’m look­ing for­ward to Sat­urday night, too.” My last re­mark was enough to 
keep him smil­ing all the way back to my dorm.

Mona was sit­ting in her lo­tus po­s­i­tion, star­ing at me with open dis­proval as I 
dressed. “Now I have seen everything,” she said. “You, alone, have more nerve than any ten 
people I ever met.”

“Not nerve, just de­term­in­a­tion,” I cor­rec­ted her as I checked the curls piled high atop 
my head.

“And I still say you’re a big dope,” she went on.

“Why, be­cause I’m go­ing to the Prom with Barry?”

“No, be­cause you’re tak­ing a chance of los­ing Chuck.”

“Are you kid­ding? He’s eat­ing his heart out right this very minute.” I threw her an 
in­cred­u­lous look.

“Every dog has his say, Janie.”

“Stop giv­ing me ad­vice and help me into this dress, will you?” I turned slowly show­ing 
Mona the fin­ished product. “Well, what do you think?” I asked.

Her gaze swept over the folds of my soft, white cock­tail dress. “You’re a knock­out,” she 
as­sured me. “But you de­serve to be hanged!”

I laughed, con­fid­ently. High on my own sense of power, of con­trol. “I in­tend to get 
away with much more than murder,” I told her.

She looked skep­tical. “We’ll see, and I hope so. For your sake.”

* * *

Barry ar­rived promptly at eight-thirty, all starched and crisp in a white din­ner jacket. “You
look gor­geous,” he said, tak­ing in the sight of me from head to toe, ap­pre­ci­at­ively.

“You’re not so bad to­night your­self,” I answered, flirt­ing with my eyes.

His right hand came out from be­hind his back clutch­ing a green box tied with a rib­bon. 
“For you,” he said, proudly.

I took out the orchid sin­cerely de­lighted. “Want to help me pin it on?” I offered.

He jumped at the chance.

When I felt his fin­gers go­ing a little too far down into my neck­line, I pushed him away. 
“That’s enough,” I said coyly, “don’t rush things. You’ll spoil the fun.”

He knew what I meant and was con­tent not to press the is­sue.

The huge gym­nas­ium was hung with stream­ers and bal­loons; strings of lights twinkled 
with mul­ti­colored stars up near the ceil­ing. I was truly im­pressed.

“May I have the first dance, Miss?” Barry said, of­fer­ing me his hand.

It was a slow one, and he led me smoothly across the floor. I moved eas­ily to his lead, 
en­joy­ing his strength, his con­fid­ence on the floor. “Quite a dif­fer­ence from the last time 
we danced,” I kid­ded him.

He smiled guiltily. “Everything’s go­ing to be dif­fer­ent to­night,” he as­sured me.

When the num­ber was over, Barry took me by the hand. “Let’s go back out­side to the car
for a minute,” he said.

“What for?”

He winked. “The only thing they’re serving here is soda and punch.” I got the mes­sage 
and fol­lowed him will­ingly.

We both drank from a pint bottle that he’d hid­den in the glove com­part­ment. I felt the 
li­quor burn­ing its way down into my stom­ach but I really didn’t mind much. To­night, I was 
in the mood to be high, to be very high. This was my night to howl and Chuck’s night to 
ca­pit­u­late.

By the time we re-entered the gym, I was be­gin­ning to feel the ef­fects of the rum. When
Barry took me into his arms, I moved in close without hav­ing to be coaxed.

While we danced, I glanced around the room hop­ing for a glimpse of Chuck. But, even 
though I didn’t see him, I wasn’t dis­ap­poin­ted. He must be there some­place, I felt cer­tain. 
And if he was in that room, there was no doubt but that he’d spot me and real­ize the er­ror 
of his ways.

Barry and I made sev­eral trips to the car. As the hours went by, I felt my­self get­ting 
drunker and drunker, felt my tongue start­ing to swell, my vis­ion slightly off fo­cus.

And then, all of a sud­den, the bottle was empty.

“One dead sol­dier,” Barry said, toss­ing it into the back seat.

“What do we do now?” I asked.

He hugged me tightly and kissed me on the mouth. “Now we move on to the next party,” 
he said.

I smiled. “How nice. Where is it?”

“The Frat House.”

I be­came sud­denly sus­pi­cious. “This wouldn’t by any chance be a party of two, would 
it?”

He grinned. “I wish I could say yes, but that’s not the case. All the guys are bring­ing their 
dates back. It’s tra­di­tion on Prom night.”

“Well, then, what are we wait­ing for?” I said, eager to con­tinue with the fest­iv­it­ies.

The at­mo­sphere in the frat house was much more re­laxed. There were no chap­er­ones,
no fac­ulty mem­bers to spy and the li­quor was right out in the open in abund­ance.

I was en­joy­ing my­self so much that I lost track of the time. It seemed that every­one 
wanted to dance with me that night. One by one, Barry’s frat broth­ers made their way to my 
side to ask his per­mis­sion to bor­row me. And Barry al­ways said yes.

After a while, the party toned down a bit along with the lights. Couples found their way 
into each other’s arms and the pet­ting turned hot and heavy.

Barry and I were no ex­cep­tions. We were both very drunk and eager for thrills.

I made no ob­jec­tion when he man­euvered me into a corner, wound his arm around me 
and kissed me full on the mouth. The pres­sure of his body, placed tightly up against my own, 
felt good, ex­cit­ing. I liked the feel of a man’s arms around me, the aware­ness that I was 
de­sired, wanted, and hungered for.

His hands found my tits and covered the soft flesh, squeez­ing slowly, rhyth­mic­ally.

I sighed and leaned for­ward, press­ing my­self tighter into his palms, lov­ing the way my 
nipples had star­ted to throb and my belly had star­ted to quiver with de­sire.

Barry rubbed his hips and thighs against me, ex­cit­ing him­self, ex­cit­ing us both.

“Let’s go up­stairs,” he whispered. “My room’s only a minute away.” I wasn’t about to 
ar­gue. I wanted him. Wanted to ex­per­i­ence that very spe­cial feel­ing that only flesh 
against na­ked flesh could bring. Hap­pily, eagerly, I al­lowed my­self to be led from the 
room.

The bed­springs creaked com­plain­ingly be­neath us as we tumbled onto the mat­tress 
wrapped in each other’s arms. I felt no need for pre­tense, for mod­esty. Slip­ping off my 
shoes, I stretched out full length in Barry’s arms, eager for the pleas­ure that awaited me.

To­night, his ac­tions were sure, pur­pose­ful. He lost no time open­ing my dress, slip­ping
it from my body.

“You’re pretty sure of your­self, aren’t you?” I teased.

“Shouldn’t I be?” His mouth moved down onto the swells of flesh bul­ging above my bra.

I gasped aloud as his tongue star­ted to play havoc with my self-con­trol.

“Come on,” he rasped. “Let’s not com­plic­ate the is­sue with all this cloth­ing. Last one 
na­ked’s a rot­ten egg.”

I was just drunk enough to go along with him. Gig­gling, I hur­ried to a sit­ting po­s­i­tion
and stripped off the rest of my clothes.

A few minutes later, Barry and I lunged at each other, na­ked, breath­less, eager to en­joy 
each other’s flesh.

He wasted no time with pre­lim­in­ar­ies. Im­me­di­ately, Barry po­si­tioned me 
vul­ner­ably be­neath him.

I cried out at the first con­tact and then I hur­ried to pick up the tempo of his pas­sion and
match it.

We were good to­gether, very good, as though we’d been prac­ti­cing for years. Again 
and again, we drove each other over the top, arms and legs en­twined, gasp­ing for breath, 
col­lapsing with ex­haus­tion.

I was ly­ing in the crook of Barry’s arm when the door opened and a slash of light crossed 
the bed. I hur­ried to cover my na­ked­ness with the sheet.

“It’s okay, baby. They’re my friends,” Barry said, pulling the cov­ers from my body. “You 
don’t have to hide any­thing from them.”

My eyes widened as com­pre­hen­sion dawned. “If this is your idea of a joke...”

“Come on, don’t be a party pooper.” He moved closer and gathered me into his arms.

“Tell them to get out of here,” I growled. “Right now or I’ll scream.”

“Try it.” He covered my mouth with his and gagged me with his tongue.

I star­ted to kick and squirm try­ing to wrench my­self loose but it was too late. Strong 
hands were clos­ing around my ankles, for­cing them down against the mat­tress. Other 
hands were mov­ing across my belly, up and down my thighs, onto my breasts, squeez­ing, 
touch­ing, vi­ol­at­ing my flesh.

“You were right, Barry. She is some­thing spe­cial,” a boy’s voice said from the dark­ness 
some­where above me.

“Enough of this pre­lim­in­ary crap,” an­other rasped. “We don’t have to get her in the 
mood. She’s al­ways in the mood.”

“Yeah, I hear she’s done it with just about every­one.” I tasted the salt of my own tears as 
cruel, rough hands po­si­tioned me.

“I’m gonna first,” some­body said, crawl­ing onto the mat­tress.

“Make it quick. Don’t for­get the rest of us are wait­ing.” My scream never made it out of 
my mouth. Barry’s hand closed over my lips, block­ing the sound.

“One word out of you, and you’ll re­gret it,” he growled drunk­enly. “I prom­ised my 
friends here, we were gonna have a party. So you’d bet­ter resign your­self.”

And then they were all over me. I don’t re­mem­ber how many. I was vaguely aware of one
boy with­draw­ing only to be fol­lowed by the next.

Things began to blur. I was only ab­sently aware of the weight above me, of the flesh 
forced at me from all dir­ec­tions.

And through it all, I had this eerie feel­ing that if Chuck had been there, he would have 
said, ‘I told you so.’

* * *

I was numb with shock, with fa­tigue when they de­livered me back to my dorm. 
Stag­ger­ing, I man­aged to make it up the stairs and into the room. Then I blacked out.

The first thing I be­came aware of was cold on my face, my body. I tried to move but 
everything hurt. I felt like every bone in my body was broken.

“Come on, try and open your eyes.” It was Mona’s voice.

I tried to force my vis­ion to fo­cus but my eyes re­fused to work.

“Here, try this.”

“No. No li­quor,” I mur­mured as the rim of the cup was placed on my lips.

“It’s cof­fee,” she said. “Just black cof­fee. Drink it, you’ll feel bet­ter.” I felt like I wasn’t 
go­ing to live an­other twenty-four hours. Propped against the head­board, I sat sul­len, 
de­pressed, thor­oughly miser­able.

“You sure you don’t .want me to get’ a doc­tor?” she said.

I shook my head. “There’s no need for that. He can’t cure me where it hurts.”

“Those guys should be ar­res­ted,” she said for the third time.

“And just what would that ac­com­plish?” I asked.

“What are you go­ing to do?” she asked after a long si­lence.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged.

“If it’s any com­fort to you, Chuck called about an hour after you left.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to know if you’d changed your mind about the Prom.”

“Well, he must know by now that I didn’t.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “He stayed home to­night.” I felt the first glim­mer of hope 
shin­ing into my mood. “Are you sure of that?” I said, glan­cing across the room.

“Ab­so­lutely. He told me he didn’t want to go without you.”

“Then he doesn’t know what happened to­night?”

“Not likely,” Mona said. “That’s not the kind of thing boys would want to be pub­li­cized.”

“And there’s no law that says I have to tell him,” I con­tin­ued.

“No law at all,” Mona agreed, smil­ing as she began to un­der­stand what I had in mind.

I slid my na­ked body in between the cov­ers and closed my eyes.

“Re­mind me to send you the first wed­ding in­vit­a­tion,” I whispered be­fore I drif­ted 
hap­pily off to sleep. At last, I was cer­tain that all I wanted – or ever would want – was Chuck.

CHAPTER SEVEN

It had only been a couple of days, but to me it seemed like an etern­ity. I really never 
thought that my feel­ings for Chuck ran so deep – still wa­ters and all that – but my 
ex­per­i­ence with the col­lege jocks was trau­matic enough that it brought me to my senses, 
so to speak. I felt that I was more in touch with my emo­tions – my real emo­tions – now than 
I had ever been be­fore in my life.

It’s truly a shame that one has to ex­per­i­ence total de­grad­a­tion · be­fore a 
reas­on­able level of san­ity can be achieved, but – aw shit, that’s life. Any­way, my main 
con­cern now was how to reach Chuck – I don’t mean by tele­phone or some­thing like that, 
but what mean’s can I use to com­mu­nic­ate my new-found ma­tur­ity and my de­sire to 
re­trieve what may be left of our love for each other.

With gradu­ation pending, I knew I didn’t have much time. Sud­denly I got de­pressed 
over the whole situ­ation. I mean I had been so elated over my real­iz­a­tion that I wanted 
him back, that I really didn’t stop to con­sider the obstacles that I still had to over­come. First 
of all, there was the time ele­ment. He would be gradu­at­ing and leav­ing col­lege forever, 
and there I was a stu­pid sopho­more with two more years of col­lege star­ing me in the puss 
and the pro­spect of hav­ing to live through it without my one-and-only true love. Shit! But 
let’s say I could wangle a way of talk­ing to him be­fore or after the ce­re­mony, even dur­ing 
the fuck­ing ce­re­mony god­dam­mit. This is more im­port­ant than a fuck­ing gradu­ation. 
This is real life! This is child­ish in­fatu­ation or some­thing!

But then my second and even more des­per­ate prob­lem is con­vin­cing that I’m still the 
pure, lov­ing, darling little an­gel he had loved be­fore I was gang-banged by at least twenty 
well-hung brutes, all of whom had mouths equal to the size of their pricks and who would 
eas­ily spread the word around the en­tire cam­pus that I was a whore, de­vi­ate, and an 
all-around ter­rific fuck.

Did you ever hear of such a prob­lem in your life? Well, I wasn’t about to sit around and 
mope about it. I had to do some­thing.

It was the morn­ing of the gradu­ation of all seni­ors who were lucky enough to fit a little 
study­ing in between their fuck­ing activ­it­ies so that they were able to pass all their courses. 
I had wangled my way into be­ing an ush­er­ette for the ce­re­mony. I figured this way I 
would be able to walk around the aud­it­or­ium freely and per­haps find Chuck in the mass of
black capes and mortor boards.

It was easy enough get­ting the schmuck who or­gan­ized the ce­re­mony to let me be an
ush­er­ette, be­cause they needed pretty girls des­per­ately. What chick who wasn’t 
gradu­at­ing her­self would want to stick around the cam­pus and spend over two hours on 
her feet show­ing some dippy par­ents to their seats so that they could watch their 
thou­sands of dol­lars in­vest­ments come to fruition be­fore their very eyes as their kids 
re­ceived a mean­ing­less roll of pa­per called a dip­loma and then shuffle off into the 
un­cer­tain fu­ture? Ob­vi­ously only a chick who was too ugly to do any­thing else, a chick 
who had no home to go to after the semester was over, one who was either so dumb or 
stu­di­ous that she was stay­ing on to go to sum­mer school, or one whose twat itched with 
the de­sire for one of those juicy pricks con­cealed un­der a gown.

That’s me honey – Miss Itchy Twat of Spring 1974! Any­way, there I was with a flash­light 
in one hand and a stack of pro­grams in the other, wait­ing for this skinny, pimply-faced 
as­shole to give me my sec­tion as­sign­ment. Fi­nally I heard the words but I couldn’t 
be­lieve it. After all the trouble I went to to get into this shindig, he as­signs me to the second 
bal­cony where there would be no stu­dents at all, simply aunts and uncles – not even 
par­ents – of gradu­ates and other re­l­at­ives. And once the ce­re­mony be­gins you can’t 
just go bound­ing down from the second bal­cony and char­ging into the or­ches­tra sec­tion
with a drippy cunt. Neither can you write love notes on pro­grams, fold them into air­planes 
and send them sail­ing down over the mass of black caps.

Shit, what was I to do now? Maybe I could change as­sign­ments with an­other girl. That 
soun­ded like the easi­est solu­tion, when I heard skinny an­nounce in a high, whiny voice, 
“Now girls, I have a list of all your as­sign­ments and I’m proud to an­nounce that I’ve 
as­signed at least one girl to each sec­tion. Please stick to your posts un­til we have bid 
farewell to an­other group of fine in­tel­lec­tu­als. Thank you.”

Thank you my ass, mother fucker. Now what was I go­ing to do? I thought the dir­ect 
ap­proach was the very best. I walked up to him and simply stated, “Look here, it’s 
ab­so­lutely im­per­at­ive that I am sta­tioned in the or­ches­tra sec­tion. Would you please 
see what you could do?”

“I’m ter­ribly sorry, miss, but my list is already made up and it would cause me in­fin­ite 
dis­pleas­ure to have to start re­arran­ging every­one.”

“But you wouldn’t have to re­arrange every­one, just two girls...” I didn’t have a chance to 
fin­ish my re­quest, be­cause he went dash­ing into the cloak room, prob­ably to check and 
see if there were enough hangars or some­thing stu­pid like that. How rude!

But be­ing totally in­geni­ous, I fol­lowed him into the cloak room, con­tinu­ing my plea 
all the while.

Sud­denly he turned on his heels and ad­dressed me, his eyes at a strange angle. “Just 
what do you want from me? Do you in­tend for me to make my labored job that much more 
dif­fi­cult for ab­so­lutely no reason ex­cept to please someone who means ab­so­lutely 
noth­ing to me, when the com­fort of hun­dreds of par­ents is at stake who paid thou­sands 
of dol­lars just for this su­preme mo­ment in theirs and their child’s life?” He face was turn­ing
red from his long-win­ded re­tort.

His math­em­at­ical lo­gic es­caped me. Not only was math al­ways my worst sub­ject, but
I was blinded by my own per­sonal need. Fuck all those stu­pid middle-class bas­tards. My 
whole life, my fu­ture hap­pi­ness was at stake and noth­ing was go­ing to stand in my way – 
even a few hun­dred weepy as­sholes.

“That doesn’t make a damn bit of dif­fer­ence to me,” I fi­nally blur­ted out. “You see this 
is very im­port­ant to me.”

“Well I can’t for the life of me see why. And in any case, that’s per­haps none of my 
busi­ness, but what is in it for me? Why should I dis­rupt the tran­quil ex­ist­ence of my 
bril­liant plan­ning just for some dewy-eyed little trol­lop?”

That made me mad! Can you ima­gine that total jerk call­ing me a trol­lop? Where did he 
get off with such nerve? Then I no­ticed that the angle of his eyes was not just a func­tion of 
his ugli­ness; they were angled ex­actly upon my beau­ti­ful, vo­lup­tu­ous tit­ties. Could it be
pos­sible that even this turd had already heard about my ex­ploits and re­cog­nized me from 
de­scrip­tions that must be all over cam­pus by now?

Was it just para­noia on my part or could it be true? What the fuck? Even if it were 
para­noia, he was star­ing right at my chest.

I knew that I simply had to put my fem­in­ine ad­vant­age to good use. I mean, after all, 
what point was there in be­ing a de­sir­able fe­male if you can’t use it to get things that you 
want, right?

So, with one swift move­ment of my right hand, I ripped open my blouse re­veal­ing my 
bra­less boobs. Luck­ily there were snaps in­stead of but­tons, but at that point I was so 
des­per­ate I didn’t care – about my blouse or my repu­ta­tion. First of all I had done so many
guys already that one more ad­ded to my apo­lo­gies couldn’t mat­ter all that much. Plus this
guy was such an ob­vi­ous as­shole that who would he tell any­way?

His eyes prac­tic­ally popped out of his head when my twin thirty-eights fell into view. 
Beads of sweat emerged on his fore­head and a def­in­ite bulge ap­peared in his pants. His 
clip­board hit the floor, but he didn’t go stream­ing out of the room in frus­trated hys­ter­ics. 
He simply stood there star­ing at me with that bulge in his box grow­ing big­ger and big­ger.

I read that as a good sign. I mean that he just stood there without scream­ing for help. It 
also was a good that sign the bulge in his britches was reach­ing vo­lu­min­ous pro­por­tions.
I al­ways say, if you gotta do it, do it up big, honey.

Without wast­ing an­other mo­ment, I dove for his fly and sank down to my knees. He 
squirmed a bit but only in heat, not in a de­sire to flee, this was ob­vi­ous. When I got his belt 
buckle un­done and the zip­per lowered, I grabbed hold of both his trousers and his jockey 
shorts and gave them a healthy yank, pulling them down to his knees. I didn’t have time to 
mess around.

This def­in­itely shocked him, but he was para­lyzed with lust and even his in­nate 
tend­ency to be an as­shole was over­shad­owed by his hom­i­ness.

It be­came even more evid­ent to me im­me­di­ately that this guy was not used to a 
pretty young thing’s lovely fa­cial lips be­ing ap­plied to his gen­it­als. An im­me­di­ate odor 
from his un­cir­cum­cised prick waf­ted into my nos­trils, and his bare ass which I was now 
fond­ling with my left hand gave off a strongly musky smell. All of this was rather dra­matic, 
sen­sa­tions one is not used to get­ting from a per­son whose hy­giene is con­trolled by his 
sexual con­tact, but to be per­fectly hon­est, it didn’t turn me off. In a way it even ad­ded to 
the ri­dicu­lous­ness of the situ­ation.

Oh, I for­got to tell you. This jerk had the biggest – not just one of the biggest – but the 
biggest cock I had ever seen in my life. It def­in­itely out­weighed Chuck’s by a mile. I had 
fi­nally found the cock of death, but why did it have to be at­tached to schmuck-face 
stand­ing in front of me. Oh, well, that’s just the per­ils of be­ing a cu­tie pie.

I figured the fas­ted and most ef­fi­cient way of ap­peas­ing him was to stick his shaft 
down my deep throat. So grabbing it in my right hand – I couldn’t even get my fin­gers all the
way around it – I pro­ceeded to lave it down and inch it little by little into my mouth. When it 
fi­nally reached the back of my throat, I thought I was go­ing to either gag, choke, or 
suf­foc­ate, or maybe even all three. Luck­ily, how­ever, his prick curved down, so it fit 
per­fectly down my throat.

It got wider and wider un­til my mouth was open to far that I didn’t think I’d ever be able 
to close it again. If only I had a mouth like a py­thon I could un­hinge my jaw and get his balls
in too. This guy was all cock, though. His balls were so small that I could hardly feel them in his
wrinkled sack. That’s prob­ably why he was such a jerk and never had sex – no balls!

I pumped like a mad­wo­man and fi­nally he even star­ted to pis­ton his hips, pound­ing 
his cock fur­ther and fur­ther into my throat. The pain was be­com­ing ex­cru­ci­at­ing and 
his pu­bes were tick­ling my nose, but if it would get him off as soon as pos­sible, it was all 
worth it.

Then I heard his thin voice – everything about this guy was thin ex­cept his juicy prick – 
say­ing, “It’s been too long; I don’t think I can come.”

I just kept on suck­ing.

“No, no, I really mean it. Look, I never have sex with girls,” his voice was be­gin­ning to get
a weepy des­per­a­tion about it. “I mean the only way I ever shoot is by mas­turb­a­tion, and 
when you jerk off all the time your prick gets used to the feel of your hand only. Noth­ing else
will do, do you un­der­stand?”

This son-of-a-bitch was giv­ing me a dis­ser­ta­tion on the foibles of jerking off while I 
was killing my­self down there wor­ship­ping what seemed to be a totally un­grate­ful tool. I 
wasn’t about to let him fink out on me now. It would be just like him to stop and then blame 
me for not com­ing and then not change my as­sign­ment, and then I wouldn’t get to speak 
to Chuck, and then my whole life would be ruined, and then I didn’t even want to think of the 
next “and then” be­cause the pro­spect was just so grim that there was ab­so­lutely no 
chance that I would al­low this sort of thing to hap­pen to me. I was too good!

Time was awast­ing and I had to get this jerk off quick be­fore the gradu­ation 
ce­re­mony began. It was time for drastic ac­tion. My left hand had been fool­ing around with
his ass cheeks all the while, but I de­cided the it was time to stop fool­ing With my left fin­ger 
and thumb and I played around with his hairy rectum, and then when I felt the muscles 
re­lax­ing just I bit, I plunged my middle fin­ger right into his hole. He jerked so vi­ol­ently in 
re­sponse that he knocked his cock even deeper into my throat. What pain! But I didn’t care, 
be­cause I was cer­tain that this would work or there was really some­thing wrong with this 
bas­tard.

Re­lent­lessly I plunged my fin­ger fur­ther and fur­ther into this as­shole. I was so angry 
at this point that I would have gladly fist fucked him whether he liked it or not.

Fi­nally my fin­ger was in all the way. I could feel the prize that I had been search­ing for. 
No not a turd, which there were plenty of, but his pro­state gland. I began to mas­sage it 
wildly, know­ing that if all his cir­cuits were con­nec­ted prop­erly her couldn’t help but come 
soon.

He moaned and babbled things like, “Oh, I’ve never felt any­thing like this be­fore. I’ll be 
hap­pi­est per­son in the hos­pital. I don’t care.”

I looked up and. His hands were un­der­neath his shirt, pinch­ing his nipples. Shit, when 
this guy gets off, he really freaks out! I thought.

He con­tin­ued bab­bling, but it got worse. “I don’t be­lieve this is hap­pen­ing to me. Do 
you al­ways sat­isfy a man like this?”

My re­sponse was, “Arg, arg, muffle, grumble,” et cet­era, et cet­era.

He seemed to un­der­stand what I was say­ing for he con­tin­ued, “I’ve got to see you 
again. I mean, this is too much. I think I’m fall­ing in love with you.”

Christ, when an in­hib­ited nut is fi­nally turned loose on the world, he really doesn’t 
what’s go­ing on. Any­way I con­tin­ued. I knew he couldn’t take much more.

“I love you, I love you,” he con­tin­ued, hoarsely but still high-pitched.

I tried to shush him through his cock; even I didn’t want any­body to find out what was 
go­ing on be­hind their coats, but I don’t think he got the mes­sage. His eyes were glazed 
and he was totally out of touch with real­ity at this point and not fit for pub­lic.

When he fi­nally said, “Will you marry me?” I knew it was time to end it all – not with razor 
blades but with an un­for­get­table or­gasm for him.

I jabbed at his pro­state un­til my fin­ger was sore, and then fi­nally I felt all the muscles in
his body stiffen and I braced my­self for the surge of come juice. Sud­denly with a groan, he 
filled my mouth with his store­house of un­used fuck sauce. I gulped and I gulped but still it 
came. He must not have whacked off in months.

But in any case it was over!

I pulled off his prick and fell back on my heels, stum­bling against the wall, not miss­ing an
empty coat rack filled with empty hangars which went fly­ing in all dir­ec­tions, mak­ing a 
clat­ter that began to bring us back to our senses.

That’s when I real­ized that my mouth wouldn’t close. My legs and arms have fallen asleep 
from be­ing in an un­usual po­s­i­tion for long peri­ods of time un­in­ter­rup­ted as 
every­one’s has, but how many people do you know whose jaws have fallen asleep from 
giv­ing head to the cock of death? I tried jar­ring it with my hand but it still was cracked open.
I did, how­ever, real­ize that it was a tem­por­ary state of be­ing and it would soon re­lax – or 
at least I cer­tainly hoped so. I tried to swal­low, a func­tion I hadn’t per­formed in the past 
ten minutes, and I felt like I was com­ing down with a case of diph­theria. My pal­let felt like it 
had just been used as a punch­ing bag by Godz­illa.

As he was quickly pick­ing up strewn hangars from the floor with his pants still down 
around his knees, he was still bab­bling about mar­riage. His manic ela­tion was touch­ing, 
but I wasn’t in the mood for a nervous break­down that day.

As his back was turned and I could still see his white, hair­less buns, I wiped my fin­ger on 
an un­used black gradu­ation gown and tried des­per­ately to pull my­self to­gether.

When all the hangars had been re­trieved, he stumbled over to me say­ing, “Oh, my little 
titwil­low, you can have any­thing you de­sire. I’ll switch you with an­other one of the girls, 
and you can have the cen­ter or­ches­tra sec­tion – the choicest one in the house. You, my 
dear, have the honor of es­cort­ing the gradu­ates to their seats of honor.”

Feel­ing of total re­lief passed through every fiber of my body, ex­cept for my throat – it 
was still numb.

As he pulled up his pants, he said in clos­ing, “So hurry, my love, the ce­re­mony is about 
to be­gin. I’ll be wait­ing for you af­ter­wards.”

Un­able to talk, I simply waved my hand in the air. I figured it wouldn’t be much trouble to
avoid and dump him later. I raced down the stairs to my post, look­ing for him above the 
crowd.

I couldn’t see him any­where.

I was al­most des­per­ate with fright.

Maybe he had not shown up. Maybe he had had an ac­ci­dent and was now ly­ing hurt 
some­where.

I’ll tell you the mind works funny ways some­times. All your deep­est fears and 
trep­id­a­tions come to the sur­face when your are most un­der stress and when you have 
al­most no place else to look.

The fi­nally after what seemed an etern­ity I saw him. Or ac­tu­ally I saw the back of his 
head. I could tell that head from any other head any­where.

It was him al­right. The big lug.

If her only knew how much I wanted him at that mo­ment as he sat there in his robes and 
his hat he would have jumped up and made it with me right then and there.

I could have run up to him and kissed him but I knew that it would em­bar­rass him 
bey­ond be­lief if I did that. Either that or he would have told me to get lost and go find some
other guy to kiss.

I knew he could not be that cruel though. I knew that he was not the kind of guy to 
em­bar­rass me in front of every­body.

But still I held my­self back and stood there ush­er­ing people around and telling them 
where to take a leak and all that other stuff that I was sup­posed to be do­ing there.

But my mind was on that guy that was sit­ting there not even know­ing or caring that I 
was there only for him.

I was de­term­ined to make my­self known to him and I was sure that when I got him 
alone I would be able to con­vince him of the truth of the mat­ter.

That was that I was the only girl around that was good for him.

That ce­re­mony seemed to take hours and hours and it was sheer hell for me. It was the 
worst hours of my life that I ever spent.

He was just feet away from me but he might as well have been miles away.

There was no way that I could get to him and there was no way to tell him that I was there 
ex­cept to go over to him and show my­self. But I didn’t want to do that either.

I wanted to save the sur­prise for the end after he had got­ten his dip­loma and after he 
was through with the whole farce of gradu­ation.

Fi­nally it was the time for all the gradu­ates to go up and get their dip­lo­mas. They filed 
in long lines up to the stand and took their sheep­skin one at a time from the dean and the 
pres­id­ent of the school.

He was get­ting a spe­cial award for some­thing or other but I knew that he should be 
get­ting a award for be­ing the best fuck I ever got.

It was a wicked thought but I let it play in my mind and thought back at the first time that 
he fucked me in that motel room.

It was funny to be think­ing of that at a time like this.

Here he was get­ting the dip­loma that meant so much to him and there I was think­ing of
get­ting laid again.

I am a very ter­rible per­son some­times and I know it. It’s just that I have very act­ive 
glands and I al­ways want to get it on with every­body. But I also knew then that if I was 
go­ing to stay there and try to make up with Chuck that I would have to stop all the fool­ing 
around and stop all that fuck­ing with other people.

Chuck had been un­der­stand­ing long enough and now it was time for me to be 
un­der­stand­ing.

I had to un­der­stand that I would have to settle my­self down and take things easy for a 
while if I was go­ing to make a go of it with Chuck.

I mean after all. It is nat­ural for a boy to want the girl he loves to stay with him and not 
fool around with every stud that passes her way.

All I wanted to do now was to hang out with him and be his chick. Not ne­ces­sar­ily his 
wife mind you. Just his wo­man.

In that way I could still split in case any­thing ever happened between the two of us.

It seemed like a good idea.

I know that may sound a little cal­lous and hard-hearted but these days a girl has to take 
care of her­self or else she’s go­ing to get fucked over by every guy that comes her way.

I’ll ad­mit it. I’m more that will­ing to spread my legs for some nice look­ing guy that can 
show me a good time. I do it all the time in fact. But you know that a girl even­tu­ally wants a 
little se­cur­ity and per­man­ence after a while no mat­ter how much she likes to fuck around.

Any­way he was stand­ing there after the ce­re­mony sur­roun­ded by a whole bunch of 
girls. They were all fight­ing for his at­ten­tion and I could tell that they all wanted to roll him 
in the hay a few times.

I could hear them in­vit­ing him to their sum­mer houses and their beaches houses all 
over the place.

I knew that if I had any­thing to do with it he would be spend­ing that sum­mer and the 
rest of the sum­mers of his life with me.

I de­cided to go over there and take care of things a little.

“Con­grat­u­la­tions, Chuck. How does it feel to be out of school for good now?” He gave 
me a dirty look that told me he didn’t want to see me again.

“Oh, it’s you. Thanks. It feels good.”

Then he turned away and began to talk to the rest of the girls.

I could see that he was get­ting a charge out of all the at­ten­tion they were giv­ing him 
and also the fact that he gave me the brush off.

I wasn’t about to quit so eas­ily.

I knew I had to plunge in with both feet. “I thought we had a date.” I said pulling him away
from the rest of the group.

“We had no such thing.”

“Yes we did. You told me you were go­ing to take me out and fuck me.” A crim­son glow 
came over his face.

All the other dippy chicks star­ted to turn red and laugh nervously at the thing I just said 
to him. I knew that they were really up­tight about the whole sub­ject of sex and I did that on 
pur­pose. That would scat­ter them faster than any­thing else.

It worked.

While he was try­ing to com­pose him­self and struc­ture a sen­tence to get me lost they 
all began to drift away one at a time.

“What the hell are you try­ing to do, Janie? What are you try­ing to prove?” I laughed in 
his face and gave a hearty farewell to the little cock teas­ers that were whis­per­ing to each 
other about me and walk­ing away to their half-assed fam­il­ies and wimp boy­friends.

“Well at least we’re alone now.” I said to him.

“You mean you’re alone. I’m leav­ing.”

He turned around and stomped off in the dir­ec­tion of the dorm. I knew that he was on 
his way back home and I knew that I had to do some­thing drastic to get his at­ten­tion back 
and make him take me with him.

It came to me in a flash what I had to do.

“You can’t leave me in this con­di­tion.” I screamed at the top of my lungs so that 
every­body for half a mile could hear me. “Not when you’re the father of my child.”

The little scene worked.

Every­body, fac­ulty, par­ents and stu­dents all turned to look at me and him.

They stared after him and gave him the dirti­est looks I ever saw any­body ever give.

He was frozen on the spot and looked around to see if any­body would try to stop him or 
say any­thing to him.

“Come back, Chuck.” I con­tin­ued. “We both need you now.” He was al­most purple when
he walked briskly back to me and grabbed the el­bow of my arm.

“Come on you ma­niac. I got to get you out of here. You’re not fit to be in pub­lic.” I 
star­ted to laugh. I knew I had him now and there was noth­ing that he could do ex­cept take 
me with him now.

He half pulled and dragged me all the way out of the main quad­rangle. The stares 
fol­lowed us like mag­nets and I could feel the eyes of every­body on the backs of our heads.

I got the biggest kick in the world out of that. I was laugh­ing by the time we stopped 
un­der the door­way of his dorm.

“What kind of stunt are you try­ing to prove?” He shouted at me.

I just smiled up at him and gave him the most in­no­cent look I could.

That got him even an­grier.

I was hav­ing a ball.

“Come on, Chuck. You know you love and there’s noth­ing that you can do about it.”

“Yes there is. I’m go­ing to go up­stairs, take this out­fit off and get my bags. After that I’m
go­ing to come down­stairs and get in my car and wave good-bye to you. That’s if you’re 
here.”

“I’m com­ing with you.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“Have it your way. But there’s no way in the world that you and I are leav­ing this cam­pus 
to­gether.”

“You don’t mean that, Chuck.”

He said noth­ing.

He turned around and went into the build­ing.

The se­cur­ity guard at the door pre­ven­ted me from fol­low­ing him up­stairs or else I 
would have fol­lowed him and se­duced him in his own room. The bit about vis­it­ors of the 
op­pos­ite sex was still in ef­fect des­pite the fact that the school was closed.

While I waited for him I took out my mir­ror and comb and fixed my­self up for him. I 
knew that I had to look my best from now on and I knew that I just had to get him to stay with
me.

He came down in a few minutes look­ing bet­ter than he had be­fore.

He was wear­ing sports clothes that really showed what a hunk he was and the change 
cre­ated a ter­rific ef­fect.

“You still here?” He asked as he brushed past me and walked to the senior park­ing lot.

“Yes I am.”

I trailed along be­hind him as he struggled with his two suit­cases and all the other junk 
that he had ac­cu­mu­lated over the years I ran to him and helped him carry some of the 
stuff.

“I’ll take some of it.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I can man­age.”

“No you can’t. Not without me.”

“Janie, please. Look it’s all over. If you think that you and I are go­ing to keep see­ing each
other you’re wrong. Be­sides I’m not go­ing home.”

“Where are you go­ing?”

“I have an in­vit­a­tion to go and spend a few weeks with a friend.”

“A girl?”

“None of your busi­ness.”

“Who is she?”

“Nobody you would know.”

“Try me. I know a lot of people.”

“I bet you do.”

“Come on, Chuck. Tell me. I want to know. Really.” I put on this help­less pout that I knew 
he would fall for. Nobody could res­ist it. I played with the col­lar of his jacket and ran my 
fin­gers along the line of his chin.

“Mary Carlyle.”

“Mary Carlyle? That as­shole? What are you do­ing with a dip like that?”

“Mary is a very nice girl.”

“I’m sure she is. But can she give you what you want? Can she give you what I can?”

“What are you talk­ing about? Is that all you have on your mind is sex? Isn’t there any 
room in your head for any­thing but lust?” I was si­lent and I pouted again. I knew what that 
last line meant after I had spoken it.

I knew what it must have soun­ded like and I took it back al­most im­me­di­ately.

“No, Chuck. That’s not all I have on my mind. I was think­ing about our hap­pi­ness.”

“Yours, you mean. You never once thought about us as that. Us. It was al­ways me, me, me.

“It may have looked like that but be­lieve me, Chuck. It wasn’t like that at all.”

“You never gave me any in­dic­a­tion that it wasn’t.” I was los­ing ground fast and I knew 
that I had to do some­thing drastic again. I had to get him to be­lieve me that I really did 
want him and that the two of us really be­longed to­gether. Mary was not the girl for him.

She was nice and all that but she was such a spoiled little mamma’s girl that she would 
make a liv­ing hell out of his life. She would bore him silly and make him into some­thing that 
he would hate for the rest of his life.

“Al­right, Chuck. You win. You can go home or go to Mary or any­thing else you want to 
do. I don’t care any more.”

“You never did.”

“Think what you want.”

He looked down at the ground. I could tell in his eyes that he was sorry that I had given in.
I could tell that he wanted me and out of the vic­tory that I gave him L was the one that 
conquered. I had taken the up­per hand by play­ing the little game of emo­tional black­mail. 
All is fair in love and war and this was sure as hell love.

“I’m glad you see it my way.” He said meekly.

I had won.

“What are you go­ing to do now?” He asked sheep­ishly.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll find some­thing to keep me busy for the sum­mer. I still need money
you know. I don’t have a rich father to sup­port me like some people.”

“My father isn’t rich. He just hap­pens to work hard for the money he makes.”

“Yeah? Why isn’t he here to see you gradu­ate today then?”

“He’s in Europe. Work­ing.”

“With his new sec­ret­ary?”

“Look that’s enough. You have no right to talk about my father like that when you are 
worse than any­thing he could do.”

He had me there. But not for long.

“Al­right. Enough.” I said. “Just kiss me good­bye and I’ll be out of your life for good.” He 
be­came pale and white.

He was mine. I knew that he did not want to let me go but I was go­ing to make him ask 
me to stay this time. The tables were re­versed now and I was go­ing to play my hand to the 
hilt.

He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and stared at me.

“What kind of a good­bye kiss is that? It felt like my brother kiss­ing me or some­thing.” 
He couldn’t res­ist one of my kisses. I knew that for a fact.

He leaned for­ward to give me a bet­ter kiss and I made sure that he opened his mouth 
this time.

I opened my mouth and slipped my tongue between his lips and gave him a rolling 
suck­ing mo­tion with it.

I ground my hips against his cock and made sure that I stayed there un­til he got a hard 
on.

He was shaken and I smiled.

When we pulled away from each other his breath was a little short and his mo­tions were 
jerky. His bags dropped to the ground and he held me lightly around the waist.

“You’re a nice girl. In a lot of ways but you see what I mean though? You al­ways do that.”

I could have kicked him in the balls when he said that. Here I was try­ing to get him to 
marry me and he thought that all I wanted was to get fucked again.

“Think what you want. It doesn’t mat­ter.” I turned and made as if to leave.

“Hey wait,” he called. “Do you need a ride any­where?”

“No.” I kept go­ing.

I knew that I had him now and I knew that it was his turn to beg.

And it was about time too.

“Please don’t feel like I spurned you. Please don’t feel bad.” I kept walk­ing faster and 
faster and he was drop­ping his things all over the cam­pus. I was get­ting such a charge out 
of it and I knew that he loved me now more than ever.

“I don’t feel bad. In fact I feel pretty good about the whole thing. Now I can do whatever I 
want without hav­ing to worry about you telling me what to do and where to go.”

The scattered people who were on their way home for the sum­mer were look­ing at the 
scenes we were pulling like we were crazy or some­thing.

I loved every minute of it and loved him more than ever now that he fi­nally saw the light.

“Hey wait up, Janie. I want to talk some more.”

“There’s noth­ing to talk about. You said it all be­fore and I fi­nally agreed. It would be 
bet­ter if we never saw each other again.” Bang! He dropped his suit­case and star­ted 
run­ning after me.

“But that doesn’t mean mat we can’t be friends does it?”

“Give me a call. Any time Mary can’t get it on and you need a lay.”

“Janie, you little slut, I want you.” I had him now and I gave him more of the hook.

“For a quicky I’m al­ways avail­able, Chuck. Just call first. I might be busy with some­body 
else.”

I was at a full gal­lop now try­ing to get away from him. He raced after me and caught me.
He was a much faster run­ner than I and I wanted to be caught any­way.

“You’re com­ing home with me.”

“No I’m not. You’re go­ing to see Mary. Re­mem­ber?”

“She can wait. Forever.” He caught up to me and grabbed me around the waist.

“Come on Janie let’s knock this off.”

“You knock it off.”

“I have.”

He leaned his face to me and gave me the longest and the best kiss I ever got from him.

I had him now and the best thing was that he had me. And that was where I wanted to 
stay. Caught with him.

“Let’s go home, Janie. I’m tired.”

He was tired. He had been study­ing like crazy all these months and I didn’t ex­actly help 
with all the prob­lems I threw his way.

I could tell from the way his eyes had dark rings around them and the way his shoulders 
drooped.

All of a sud­den I had this tre­mend­ous com­pas­sion for him. He really did need me after
all. Not only for the sex and the lust and all that but he really needed some­body that would 
un­der­stand him. Some­body that had gone through the same things he had. Some­body 
like me.

I threw my arms around him and kissed him back in re­turn. He was all mushy and soft in 
my arms and I could feel the emo­tions he felt for me ooz­ing out of him and pour­ing into 
me from his body.

“Let’s get out of here, Janie. People are start­ing to won­der what the hell is go­ing on.”

“Let them won­der. Who gives a shit?”

“You ob­vi­ously don’t.” He said, pick­ing up his suit­cases and the rest of the stuff that he 
had left on the walk like a trail of garbage after our run.

“Chuck, honey, you’ve got to stop wor­ry­ing about what people think. You have to do 
what you want to do and not worry what some­body else, who might not be as bright as you, 
is go­ing to think of you if you do it. Oth­er­wise you get your­self all hung up and fucked up 
in the head.”

“You talk like some sort of lib­er­ated wo­man.”

“I am. And I want to lib­er­ate you too.”

“Do it when we get to my house. I’m too tired right now to be lib­er­ated.”

“How do you want to make it when we get there? You want to be on top or would you 
rather I get on top and then do some sixty-nine?”

“You’re in­cred­ible.”

“You wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He smiled. He knew that I was right.

We drove all af­ter­noon and half way into the even­ing be­fore we got to his house.

His father was not in the coun­try and wouldn’t be back for an­other two weeks. I couldn’t 
be­lieve the kind of house he lived in. It was some­thing that I only ima­gined in my dreams. I 
never thought that any­body I knew would ever be liv­ing there.

I was really knocked out.

To him though it was like second nature and he was com­fort­able and him­self in those 
sur­round­ings.

I knew that if I had it in my power I would be liv­ing there one of these days and he would 
be right there along­side me.

“Are you tired, Chuck?” I asked.

“Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Not too tired for some re­lax­a­tion are you?” I was ly­ing sprawled on the couch next to 
him and gave him that old look that I knew he loved.

“You never stop.”

“Not un­til I’m dead.”

I leaned over to him and pulled his mouth to mine.

I sucked his tongue all the way into mine and gave him the wet­test and the best kiss I 
knew how. I ran my hand down to his cock and felt it throb and come to life from the kiss.

He still wanted me al­right and there was’ noth­ing that he could do about it now.

I was go­ing to make love to him and he was go­ing to love ever minute of it.

“Come on. Don’t be a drag and give me some love, Chuck.” He was more than ready. I 
could tell from the glaze in his eyes that he wanted to make it and I was go­ing to show him a 
really good time.

“You want me to suck you off first?”

A flush came over both our faces when I said that and the fun was not even be­gun yet.

“Come on. I’ll un­dress you.”

He lay still on the couch and let me un­buckle his pants for him. I slid the flaps of the 
pants away from him and pulled down the elastic of his un­der­wear.

He was hard and red already and there was this moist­ness to his cock that was caused 
from the too long con­fine­ment in his pants.

It smelled good and musky and my mouth began to wa­ter from the thought that I was 
go­ing to suck him off.

I leaned into him and took the cock in my hands. I felt him jump and give a mur­mur of 
pleas­ure as I did that and he arched his back to tell me that he wanted it. Wanted it more 
than any­thing.

“I missed your cock.” I said to him, get­ting him good and hot at the same time by 
strok­ing it easy up and down.

“I missed you too, Janie.”

I leaned down and took the head of it in my mouth and slid it in and out of there between 
my lips to get it good and wet.

I wanted him to be wet. I wanted to make it nice and easy for the fuck­ing that we were 
go­ing to do later.

I man­aged to pull his pants all the way to his ankles and he did the rest by step­ping out 
of them.

At the same time I took off my top and my tits hung low over his thighs while I 
po­si­tioned my­self between his legs to make it easier for me to get at his balls.

I wanted them in my mouth as well be­cause I knew how much he loved that.

His cock was just as I had re­membered it. Thick and hard and full of juice.

He tasted great in my mouth and I slid that thing in and out of there like it was go­ing out 
of style.

I took his balls in my mouth as well and let him have the best ball lap that he ever got in 
life.

He moaned and groaned while I worked on him like that but I knew that he was go­ing to 
come soon. He had been without sex for too long to be able to hold out any longer.

He was pant­ing and strain­ing to come and I didn’t mind one bit hav­ing him come in my
mouth.

In fact I wanted it more than fuck­ing at the time. I wanted to show him that I really did 
care more about him than about any other boy in the world.

His body arched and fought as the muscles on his legs stiffened and flexed from the rush 
of sen­sa­tions that were rip­ping through him.

He bucked and strained and then sud­denly I felt his cock throb and twitch in my mouth.

Then I was flooded with that thick cream that I wanted so badly. It tasted sweet and 
creamy and I took it all in my mouth and swal­lowed it down.

He loved for me to do that and I knew that he got a charge out of watch­ing me suck him 
off. All boys do.

He moaned softly and let out a long sigh of re­lief.

I had pleased him and I was glad of it. I had drained all that nervous en­ergy that had 
been build­ing up in­side him all term and now he was happy and like putty in my arms.

“Come here.” He said.

I climbed over the long length of his legs and went to kiss him. He opened his mouth and 
we tongued like that for at least half an hour be­fore we pulled away from each other and 
went into his bed­room.

We stripped na­ked be­fore we got into the bed be­cause this time we were really go­ing 
to fuck and we didn’t want all those clothes to get in the way.

I lay down on my back and spread my legs for him so that he could see the moist gash of 
my cunt and smell the husky aroma of it to get him go­ing.

I felt his hands crawl along the in­side of my thigh and then make its way to my gap­ing 
cunt.

His fin­gers were soft and warm there and then I felt his hot breath against the cunt lips, 
he flicked his tongue out and cap­tured the little nub­bin of my clit and teased it to erect and 
flam­ing life.

God, was I hot.

I arched my back to him and showed him what I wanted.

“Come on. Fuck me, Chuck. Let’s do it.” He needed no other in­vit­a­tion.

He crawled on me and let his cock dangle in front of my will­ing cunt. I bucked up and 
gave him all that he wanted and he took the rest.

His thick cock plowed in and out of me faster and faster as we could not wait a mo­ment 
longer.

I had to come and I had to come from the pleas­ure of his cock. His mouth or his fin­gers 
would not do. I had to have his cock and he gave me all that I could take. He gave it to me 
time and time again un­til we both lay gasp­ing and pant­ing on the bed, happy and 
sat­is­fied that we could be so good to­gether like that.

I was really happy and that was no bull­shit.

As far as all the other guys went it didn’t mat­ter to him or to me any more.

You see we have this un­der­stand­ing between the two of us that we can go out and get 
laid with any­body we want as long as we tell each other.

That’s a pretty good deal. Not that I in­tend to ab­use that or even maybe try it once.

But it’s nice to know that it’s there and that no mat­ter what hap­pens we could al­ways 
have each other to fall back on.

I guess it’s some­thing that every­body has to learn to live with. Not every­body can stay 
faith­ful to an­other per­son. Some people need to have a few lov­ers on the side to keep 
things in­ter­est­ing and keep things from go­ing stale.

I found that after I got through balling some other guy I would want to rush home to 
Chuck and make it with him. And when I did that it was al­ways so much bet­ter for the two of
us.

Not that I’m say­ing that this is good for every­body or that it may be good for some 
people. But it is good for me. Or at least it was. I don’t know whether or not I’ll be able to hold
out and stay with Chuck sexu­ally forever. But I at least want to try it.

I want to see what it is like and I want to try it for just a little while.

I’m sure that Chuck would get a little up­set if he knew that I wanted to make it with other 
people des­pite the fact that we made the agree­ment that we would.

I got the feel­ing that al­though he con­sen­ted to make the agree­ment he doesn’t really 
ex­pect me to keep it or use it.

It all has to do with the fact that every­body deep down is look­ing for some sort of roots 
and some sort of se­cur­ity that lets them know that this or that thing is mine and nobody can
take it away from me.

One of these days I’m sure that I’ll feel that way too. I’m sure that I’ll want to stop all the 
fool­ish­ness and stay with Chuck for good.

I don’t know though. The thought of stay­ing with one thing all your life and clos­ing 
your­self off to the rest of the world is some­thing that I still have to come to terms with and 
some­thing that I know will be­come a prob­lem between me and Chuck And the fact that he 
has money at first was a big thing for me. That was be­cause of the fact that I never had much
of it through­out my life.

It was al­ways some­thing that there was not enough of and some­thing that we really 
had to scrape and save to get.

But now things will be dif­fer­ent with Chuck. He has the money and I know that he could 
take care of me really well in any­thing that I might want to do. But sud­denly it doesn’t seem 
to me to be that im­port­ant any more.

I have other things to think about and other things to do.

My life is more im­port­ant than money.

That may change too though. I may find my­self like every­body else, strug­gling and 
fight­ing to make those bucks that make all the dif­fer­ence in the world some­times.

Those Almighty dol­lars...

For my own head though Chuck is just fine.

He’s like a big kid most of the time and I know that no mat­ter how old he gets he will 
al­ways be like that. He won’t change all that much as time goes on and I love that the most 
about him.

You see once you get old and tired with some­body and you have no en­ergy left to want 
to do any­thing you just want to shrivel up and die. And that was the same bag that my 
par­ents were in. They had ab­so­lutely no de­sire to do any­thing out­side of them that 
would ex­pand their heads or try some­thing dif­fer­ent.

I don’t want to be like that when I get older. I want to al­ways try to do dif­fer­ent things 
and with dif­fer­ent people. It’s the only way that you ever really learn any­thing. It’s really the 
only way to be if you want to have a full life that means some­thing rather than the kind of life
where you hate your­self for what you’re do­ing.

But all in all Chuck is really cool about everything. He really un­der­stands that and I know 
that the both of us should really be able to make a go of it.

It’s some­thing that I feel in­side me and I know from ex­per­i­ence that in­stincts are 
bet­ter than thought most of the time.

Chuck and me are go­ing to do all right.

I know that.

THE END
