Chapter One

A beautiful spring day. Finally after what seemed like a full year of winter, a day I could let my brunette hair waltz in the wind. I had grown up in Orlando and although my family wished me to attend college in state, I had to get as far away as I felt would make it more difficult to come find me. Living in dorms my first two years had taught me a few lessons. One, roommates sucked! This was compounded by the fact I didn’t know anyone in this college mountain town. Two, relationships were for the birds. Never really looked for one and if someone was ever kind enough to talk to me, it was usually to find out my dinner plans. It was not that I was not interested in having a relationship, it was that I was never interested in having one with who was asking. All these things combined for me doing exceptionally well in school, but maintaining an F grade in socialization. I was looking to change that this spring and boy was it a spring I would soon forget.

In high school I had played soccer in the fall and softball in the spring. My main reason for doing this was to stay away from home as much as possible. By the time I entered college, I had noticed my sports days were behind me. It is not that I found myself unattractive; or that anyone else did either. In many ways I was happy with the way I filled out my female form. At 5’7”, I never felt too tall with a “C” cup that had grown from a “B” in high school. Slightly curly brunette hair a few inches below my shoulders. Perhaps my best feature was south of my waist. The years of workouts had left me fit and curvy, especially since I didn’t work out nearly as much these days. While I was always interested in having a relationship, it always felt as if people were more interested in conquering me than being with me.

With daffodils just beginning to sprout, I decided to head out to the community outdoor complex. This was my first semester taking a bulk of teaching courses and had spent a few days interning at the elementary schools. I felt teaching was my calling much like running seems to be a horses, or hopping a rabbits. If there was one thing I knew; a good school environment could help a poor home environment. I went with the purpose of finishing my weekly readings (I know it was only Tuesday,) but with the intent for some kind soul to come have an interesting conversation.

From experience, dressing in sweat pants and a sweater gave the fuck off vibe so I armed myself with a gray tanktop (and by favorite bra underneath) and a pair of jeans that could be considered too small though when they finally did get on fit perfectly for my form. I know the look would attract all different types, but I really was there just to talk and meet someone interesting. Although I considered myself straight, some of the stories I had read kept me at least interested in the prospect of having a relationship with another lady.

My dorm mate the past two years only went out with guys and I had to hear every day how society was coming unglued because of indecent morals (besides the morals that fucking a new guy every week was fine as long as she was doing it.)

I had sat on the same piece of grass many times reading or enjoying warm weather and watching the people walking and running. The park was full of people today enjoying the first bit of warm weather we had had in several months. After about 20 minutes a rather cute guy in running sweats and a tee shirt stopped at the water fountain on the other side of the running path. Who I would soon learn to be Scott did not seem much like a runner to me; not that he was not fit, he was, just that his fitness didn’t scream runner.

After his long sip he turned around and said “reading seems a much better way to spend our first spring day then trudging along the trails sweating.” I didn’t mean to smile as much as I did, but his face being the color red it just made whatever he was trying to do seem silly. He made a few more small talk statements before I offered if he needed to sit for a moment.

After three hours of talking about every goings on in the world, he offered a meal at a local sub shop. Over the past three hours, I had really enjoyed talking with him. I had even found myself checking him out on a few occasions. He was just a couple inches taller than me, but stood in a fittingly relaxed manner (of course that could always have been that he was not a runner despite his attempt at running.) He had played second base at a local high school, but had no aspirations to be too involved with sports. He had a fascination with chemistry, but didn’t put out the super geek vibes that many chemistry students did. Even his attire didn’t seem to make any kind of statement about him although the blue t-shirt perfectly matched his eyes.

We both agreed to meet at six so we could go shower. As I got up to leave and gave him a quick smile, I felt a wetness I had not felt in some time. A yearning that I could not remember ever having. Almost an ache. As I went home to shower, I felt a need I had not satisfied since I met Billy several months prior. That turned out to be simply a conquest for him and another empty morning for me.

The shower was pleasant enough even though I found myself wanting to reach down to my sex on more than one occasion. Finally I allowed myself a quick release that forced me to grab onto the curtain. Note to self… Don’t go so long.

One of the few things I missed about living on campus was the ability to walk everywhere. I didn’t live far off campus, but far enough that I had to catch the University bus to get anywhere.

I walked into the sub shop a few moments late and saw Scott had already picked out a table. I had hoped to be outside but all the tables were taken. Besides the beautiful evening, it always made it easier to simply walk away if things began to get awkward when sitting outside. What I found however is that after two hours and some strange faces from employees, sitting inside produced a more intimate setting than the crowded steel tables outside.

What I found was Scott was as invested in chemistry as I was in teaching. While not some super health conscious fanatic, he saw a need to create a sugar substitute that was based on a particular combination of trees and herbs. It had been somewhat of a hobby creating different recipes. Most were fine, but not something that was reproducible. That is until his most recent attempt.

After two hours of talking about everything from the trappings of dorm life to my love of teaching and his love of chemistry, Scott asked if I had any plans for the remainder of the night. While usually I would as politely as possible decline such an invitation, there was a quiet pleading that was so unforceful that I could hardly decline. Besides no work or school the next day, no desire to ride the bus at night even in a small town, sometimes the company of others brings a relaxing calm. I had also not forgotten the feelings I had just a few hours ago.

Fifteen minutes later we were back at his place. A decent sized modular for someone who lived alone. As he explained it, his family had bought it for him the past summer to finish college and then his sister would live in it after he graduated. For a single guy, the house was amazingly clean except for the kitchen. I wouldn’t call the kitchen a mess for there were no dishes that needed cleaning and the pantry was plenty stocked. What stood out about the kitchen was that it looked much like the chemistry lab I had walked by several times on my way to class my freshman year.

“Would you like something to drink?” Scott asked. After asking what he had and confirming lemonade would be fine, his next question was to whether I would like my lemonade sweetened or unsweetened. His reference was to whether I would like to try his new sweetener. While there was an interest, especially considering how much conversation there had been about it during dinner, I had a feeling it wasn’t the night for it. Two lemonades later, one “sweetened” for him, and one “unsweetened” for me, we were in his room sitting on his bed.

Sitting on his bed small talking about nothing in particular, one of us perhaps both of us leaned into each other. A long, deep kiss followed by a hand from both of us. I reached for the head in his shorts and he reached for the back of my head, slightly caressing my hair. There was no stopping us from that point. Both our shirt came off though I still had my bra hiding any decency I had left. This left his shorts and my jeans (and decency.)

Unbuttoning my own pants first, I pushed on his bare chest to get to his. While his back was laid on the bed, I saved future time and unclasped the last of my bosom's decency. This left my unbuttoned pants which were just fine for the moment.

Crawling on top of the bed, he scooted up the two or so feet I needed to fully be on the bed. With him flat and trying to sit up, I pushed him back again and then reached for his engulfed member. Holding the base with my left hand, I licked the tip. On command it jumped and he squirmed. This was my moment. I had him fully at my mercy. Could make him dance left or right; up or down. I had full control.

I fully took him in. No longer holding the base in my hand, instead, a slow dance with the tips of my nails. With each inward thrust, the back of my tongue rubbing down his shaft, and with each outward pull, a slight suck to keep the pressure. I am not sure what I was looking for; but longevity surely should not have been it. Though not as experienced as many, the maddening rapidity of my strokes ripened his climax within a minute or two. Warm, salty mix hitting my tongue first and then instantly the back of my throat. Funny thing however. Something besides salt; a need to climax myself. Before it had time to grow and overtake me, a new sensation. A sweetness, a sweet… sweet… sweet sleep…. slee……..