Freshman: Part II

Perhaps the greatest problem with young love is that it can end as quickly as it begins, regardless of how extreme the shared emotions were. Adult relationships seem to recover more quickly from disappointment, where one slip-up in young relationships can cost the whole thing. Perhaps it's the fallacy of idealizing each other; things seem so perfect that when something upsets the balance of perfection, your world crumbles and for some reason you take the other person down with you.

* * *

Cindy and I both had to leave for college earlier than most; she was going to be in the Million Dollar Band at UofA and had two weeks of band camp before classes began, and I had a two-week retreat for a secret society I was joining, electing to not continue with musical pursuits in college. Actually, the society could be a story all its own, but suffice it to say one of my scholarships was fronted by them, and it was made up of people who grew up poor and wound up with many rich alumni who wanted to help smart kids who didn't have the parents or money to get them into college. The scholarship not only covered all my tuition, room, and board, but gave a monthly stipend with enough to cover weekend activities as well. If they wanted two weeks of my time for a retreat, they would get it.

Some nights I would call Cindy since we both had cell phones -- a small luxury at the time, since they hadn't quite become a fad yet. The second week of the retreat, I was only able to reach her once or twice. The week I returned from the retreat, I was not able to reach Cindy at all. This was totally unexpected, since we hadn't gone a single day in two years without at least talking to each other.

I finally cornered her roommate, vocally at least, and asked her what was going on. She said Cindy had been rushing a sorority and had been out almost every night. While she was a good friend and kept most of the details secret, she alluded to how much Cindy had been partying, and that she was also a little bit worried about her recent activities.

I was hurt; I wasn't a drinker, and the one time Cindy had gotten drunk in high school she had almost stripped naked at a party before I had her off the table and outside. She could not handle her liquor at all (or even her beer), and we avoided parties with alcohol. It hurt me that after I tried my best to keep her safe that she would go off to college and repeat actions she knew would only lead to bad situations.

I was not ordinarily jealous, but in a fit of hurt I went to the only thing I knew: computers. I had mastered hacking Hotmail email accounts my junior year of high school, with a bit of social engineering. They had this easy form if you forgot your password, with a question. Most people asked horrendously simple questions, such as "Where would I like to vacation?", to which the answer was almost always one of "Hawaii", "Bahamas", or "Australia" for some reason. Some asked about their favorite animal. Hotmail offered no penalty for incorrect guessing, but it was usually easy enough to get in a few tries, one if you knew the person well. Later on, they required a birthdate as well, but if you already knew the person, a lot of good that did.

Anyway, Cindy's question was "Who do I love?". After shaking my head and wanting to caution her about picking such an easy question (it was either me, her dad, or God), I entered "Ross", and watched as it gave me her password. Ironically, her password was "iloveross". Some people have no concept of information security. Actually, come to think of it I don't mind that; it's job security for me.

I knew the moment I logged in I shouldn't have done it. Emails can show you both everything and nothing. What sounds like a bawdy tale of lust could really be something about cows in a different context. Email provides no tone of voice, no real-life context, no proof of wrongdoing. I gave her the benefit of the doubt for some of them, even though they were all from random guys saying "thank you". I counted five different guys who were grateful to her for some reason for something she was doing at nighttime. Ok, I reasoned. Perhaps she was forced to clean cars as a sorority pledge (oh, my naivety kills me now), or maybe she was doing really well in band and these were fellow trombone players, or maybe she was tutoring history as she did in high school.

As I was about to just close the email window and just hope for the best, I saw a new email come in from a guy named Joshua. As the other guys did, he thanked her for whatever she was doing, and I was about to close it and move on when I noticed the "P.S.: I have never had a better lay!" It was obvious he wasn't talking about potato chips.

It was at that moment my heart ripped in two, and I knew that it would affect me the rest of my life. I had exclusively loved and cared for Cindy for a long time...more than a tenth of my entire life. I both wanted to call and yell at her, and just drive there and take her away from whatever had messed her up. I mean, I spent two years bringing her pleasure without ever having sex, and she goes to college two weeks and starts giving it away like lollipops on a school bus.

The world crashed in on me. I became reclusive, only going to class sporadically, and avoiding the few friends I'd managed to make. In an attempt to revive good memories I would masturbate while thinking of the times we'd shared. It didn't help. I was truly crushed, and nothing anyone did remotely helped. It also didn't help when after we'd made the break-up official I went into her email one more time only to find she had banged at least 6 more frat boys. Frat boys, at that! That's like eating a TV dinner when you have an uncle who owns the finest restaurant in town. To this day, I remember each of their full names and would not hesitate to cause them a lot of pain for what they stole from me. Let's hope they never meet me.

To this day, I have not spoken to Cindy. Last I heard she was pregnant and had to marry one of those guys to placate her parents. I hope she's happy. Actually, I really hope she's miserable. Thinking that way is a personal flaw I'm willing to overlook in life.

* * *

To make matters worse, it was the second week of school. Anyone who went to college knows that relationships form the FIRST week of college, not the second, and certainly not at all by the third week. Even if there were any girls available, any confidence I had was shattered. If I could give everything of myself to a girl only to have her screw anything that burped loudly enough, I obviously wasn't worth much and had little to offer.

I basically didn't even have a way to rebound. She didn't even need to rebound, because she was already dribbling all over the court.

To say I was bitter is an understatement. It's been almost a decade now and I'm still angry with her. An apology would be an undersell at this point. I don't desire to cause her pain or murder her or anything, but I'm quite happy in seeing how her own decisions has caused her to not quite live the life she intended. Natural consequences are always the best revenge, call it karma or whatever you want.

My roommate was somewhat understanding, but as a guy he was of the opinion I should suck it up and get back on the wagon, be a man. I don't think he quite understood I invested way more than physical satisfaction into the relationship, though. I was always smart, but with her I was dumb and didn't guard my heart. Wouldn't make that mistake again...

* * *

My third week, I began to notice a pattern in my classes. The pattern I noticed was a particular girl, an actual live female. The interesting thing is that I was in classes like Calculus, Computer Science, Physics, and Psychology, of which she was in all four with me. They were each lecture-sized with 200-300 people, so it took a few days for me to realize she had almost my exact same schedule. Likely, she had found the same website I had with professor ratings (myself choosing the professors with the highest grade distribution), and was probably also a Computer Science major. I think she was in an Introductory English class where I had elected to take a creative writing course, which was our only scheduling difference. Her name was Lindsey Hawthorne.

I befriended her, mainly because I wasn't creepy like many of the nerds in our classes (though, looking back I must have been borderline), so she didn't mind. We became good study partners, and I quickly realized she was far smarter than any girl I had met. Now, that's not to say Cindy or other girls in high school were stupid, but I was always considered a genius and put into very advanced classes, sometimes ones where I was the only student. I hadn't met a girl that was at my intelligence level until Lindsey. Literally, our IQs were only 3 points off, mine at 164 and hers at 161. We both made almost the exact same grades, sometimes deviating by a point or two at most. We even graduated within a few GPA points.

Most of all, it was a huge turn-on. Obviously, I'm not a very dominant personality, so to find a girl that equalled me in my best skill had me going like nothing ever had. Not to mention she was incredibly cute, or at least as cute as Cindy had been, had platinum blonde hair, was soft-spoken and full of life. Her breasts were slightly smaller, but definitely enough to hold onto, and her body looked like she was athletic, but not overly so. I later found out she was a swimmer as well.

It was probably mid-semester before I had enough courage to make a move. As I walked toward our normal study space, a small garden area outside the library, I could hear her ending a phone call with an "I love you too". Ah, crap, I thought. Then I paused, thinking maybe it was just her dad or mom.

"Sorry, that was my boyfriend" she said, seeing me come near. Well, at least that was cleared up.

"Oh, really, you hadn't mentioned him..." I fished.

With a surprised look, she paused a minute. "Oh, wow, I'm sorry! I guess we always get so caught up that it never really came up."

I asked her a little bit about the situation, and discovered they too had been high school sweethearts, only she was actually faithful, and he seemed to be as well. And he lived in freaking Canada to boot. Eh? Cindy couldn't last with just a couple hundred miles between us, but Lindsey could stay faithful with a whole country away? She really seemed like the perfect girl, and yet I couldn't have her. After what happened to me, I wasn't about to break up a relationship for selfish reasons. I talked with her about myself and Cindy, and she seemed genuinely upset. She said nice guys like me don't deserve that, thereby laying the boundary line in once more being the "nice guy friend". Great.

We moved back to studying, but I cursed my luck. My sex life cursed my luck too. I could tell by the way my penis shrunk up as if to say I'd be better off as a woman. Rejection from all angles, I tell you.

* * *

It wasn't long before I was about to give up and just go celibate, join a monastery or something. But for once in my life, luck came through in the form of my secret society. It wasn't a fraternity really, as there was no hazing, and no forced friendship with people you only feel "ok" about. We figured that since it gave us money, we automatically loved it and each other, and it turned out that since most of the people in there were down to earth (being raised poor does wonders for grounding a person), we tended to automatically become close friends with everyone else. There was the occasional spat, but we were a fairly tight-knit group. Everyone knew about my story with Cindy, and were appropriately considerate of me.

Probably the best thing about the society was that it was male and female membership, so it wasn't a huge hormone ("sausage") festival like most fraternities. Since it was scholarship-based, most of the girls in the society were nearly as smart as me, some even smarter, and they too entered my turn-on list. None really got me going as much as Lindsey, though. I mean, it wasn't a house full of cheerleaders, but everybody was smart and had an interesting story to tell, which easily took care of minor physical deficiencies.

One day, I went to the society's penthouse, as we were located off-campus in the top floor of an apartment building owned by an alum. It was a sweet deal and rent-free, so it was a great place to hang out or study. It only had 5 bedrooms, so usually only seniors could live there and even then they had to agree to keep the whole place clean in exchange. Usually they were given to the couples that inevitably happened, sometimes even getting married before graduation. It did make an easy way to start out a life together, being rent-free and close to campus.

Usually the penthouse was fairly occupied, having a nice arcade room with a pool table and couches, but this time there was only one girl there in our Zen Garden area, as we called it. It was really just some bonsai trees, sand, and a mini-waterfall, but wound up being perfect for relaxation, and seemed to always have someone in it.. I didn't know the girl well, but recognized her as Sarah, one of the sophomores in the society. As a freshman, we only ran into the upperclassmen occasionally. I could tell she was hurt by something, and tried to softly walk past her to the couches as to not disturb her.

I laid on one of the couches to hopefully get a bit of a nap; my roommate enjoyed playing loud music during the day so I preferred the penthouse couches to catch some rest. They were nice overstuffed leather couches from the mid-90's, just old enough to be super soft without feeling ratty, and perfect for napping. Or falling asleep while studying, as was usually the case.

I was probably there 20 minutes just about to doze off before feeling someone lay beside me on the couch. I hadn't heard anyone else come in, so I assumed it was Sarah. My assumption proved correct when I heard her whisper, "I'm so sorry, I just need to be held right now, by anyone."

It was weird, but far be it from me to deny a pretty girl being held. Honestly, it felt pretty damn good to hold a girl again; it had been awhile. I put one arm around her stomach so she would feel held. It also had the unintended effect of awakening the sex life that had rejected me; my member came out of hiding and began hardening slightly. Maybe it figured it wouldn't reject me if I could manage to get female ass close to it. Even so, I was a bit embarrassed and hoped she didn't notice, until it kept growing and I realized she had to know by that point.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. It's... well, been awhile, and this thing seems to have a mind of its own."

"It's ok, Ross. Actually, it kinda feels a bit nice right now," she said, to my surprise. And then, only somewhat jokingly, "No funny stuff though!"

I laughed, and promised her there would be no funny stuff. We fell asleep, or at least I did, comforted by being near a girl again.

I'm not sure what woke me up first, the fact that I felt movement around me, or the fact that the movement was centered around my rapidly hardening penis, but I was fully awake in no time. Sarah was still in front of me facing outwards, only she had unzipped my pants, where my member was nearly at full mast. I noticed she had lifted the back of her skirt up a little bit to where her legs could straddle me without alerting anyone if they walked in, except perhaps if they noticed how beet red my face was getting.

"Uh, Sarah, are you awake?"

"Mm, I'm sorry Ross, I just... I need some sense of comfort, and nothing is working. I'm sorry."

"Really, it's ok. Really. Just, I'm not so sure you'll feel the same way later."

"No, this is definitely what I want. Don't worry, I just want to feel close to somebody right now."

I don't know what happened to make her feel that way, did not ask, and still do not know to this day. I think it was probably a guy who hurt her somehow. To that guy, if you read this... thank you.

By this time, I had become completely hard, feeling the soft material of her panties rubbing slightly against me, her butt wiggling around to get me farther and farther between her legs. After three months of action with only my hand, my member was perfectly willing to be coerced by anything paying the least bit attention to it. I quickly got more and more aroused, and knew I would need some kind of release soon.

"Um, Sarah, this may sound bad, but it's been a very long time and I really need to finish this off or something... maybe I can go to the bathroom real quick."

"No." she said, simply.

Uh, ok, I thought. "No" really doesn't solve my problem...

I could soon feel the reason she said it. She began gradually shifting her weight back and forth to slowly stimulate me more and more. It stimulated herself too, I noticed, as the tip of my penis began to feel some wetness collect on her panties. I could tell she had one hand massaging her clitoris Her movements gradually increased until both of use were panting a little. Her cheeks began to flush when she decided to move my hand to her right breast, and squeezed it to let me know what to do. I began playing with her breast, slowly dragging my fingers across it until her areola began to pucker, and then began using one finger to spiral inward to her more sensitive area. It reached her nipple, when I took two fingers to gently twist the nipple between them, forcing a small moan to escape her lips.

We continued like that for several minutes, myself having already moved to her left breast when her right nipple was fully erect, about half the diameter of a pencil eraser as I could feel through her cotton top. It was then that I noticed her arousal had reached that point of no return, as I used to recognize so easily. I quickly took my other hand and used it to wipe the thin sheen of sweat from her forehead and neck, planting a soft kiss on the same area Cindy liked, right below where the jawline meets the ear. That seemed to work wonder, as Sarah began increasing her movements more and more, dry-humping me like crazy. It was incredibly exciting, or at least a few orders of magnitude better than masturbation, and Sarah's body felt so nice next to mine that I felt my own release begin to draw near.

"Sarah, I'm going to cum..."

"Mmmggh, ok, it's ok."

"Right here, like this?"

"Mmm," she said (or grunted, or something), myself taking it as agreement to just let it out when the time came.

Both of us were panting like mad when I could feel her get right to the edge. Figuring I'd help out, I planted another kiss, squeezed her breast, and began humping her back, increasing the amount of times my penis reached her clitoris. After five or six pumps, I kissed her neck and she went WAY over the edge, clamping her thighs down over my member. The added pressure and knowledge she was orgasming right in front of me sent me to my own release, and I breathed one last deep time before my semen began firing out as if it had been waiting for years for this moment. I kept coming, due to the extra stimulation of her orgasm tapering off. It felt like I ejaculated gallons, but it was at least enough to hit the front of her skirt on the inside. There would be no hiding that, not easily. I felt a bit like Bill Clinton; sometimes passion gets in the way of leaving no evidence.

Both of us lay there for about ten minutes, saying nothing, just holding each other. I used both arms to surround her and put my head in the nape of her neck. It felt good, really good, to be next to a girl again. Even one I didn't really know well.

"Thanks, Ross."

"Trust me, it was my pleasure!" I said, grinning.

"I expect it was," she replied, laughing. "Thanks so much, though, you have no idea how much I needed that!"

I concurred, and we lay like that a bit longer just talking. It turned out she was a Philosophy and English double major, and lived in the senior dorm right beside my freshman dorm. She had luckily gotten assigned to a nicer dorm with single-occupancy bedrooms. I tried to hide my jealousy. It would be nice to buy food and know it'll still be there tomorrow, not eaten by roommates. We talked for a little bit longer, until I felt Sarah wiggling around a little bit.

"Ross, I really like what we did, but I'm feeling a bit...icky."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot things get a little messy... Like I said--"

"It's been awhile," she finished. "For me too, actually."

At this, she paused quickly, and then said, "Actually, if you wanted to, we--," stopping abruptly. I could literally FEEL her blushing. It confused me, wondering what she was going to ask.

"Wanted to what?"

"Uh, no, I was just thinking that if you don't get to-- and I'm not getting to... then, maybe we could do something like this again?" Sarah asked, cautiously.

Hot damn. If I heard her right, she wanted something along the lines of no strings attached sex, or at least something close to sex. Maybe my penis would stop rejecting me.

"Are you asking what I think you're asking?" I quickly asked.

"Um, yeah, if it's something you think you would want to do..." she trailed off. "But if not, it's ok, I just thought..."

"Sarah, I'd love that! I think you're incredible, at least what I know so far... Besides, asking a guy that, you should know the answer," I said, laughing. "I just want to know it's something you want, and for no other reason."

"It is. I mean, it's something I do want..." Sarah replied.

After a few minutes, we decided to get up and leave. I offered to drive her back to the dorms, and she accepted, not quite ready to have her cum-stained skirt seen by everybody on the sidewalks. I must have apologized for that ten times, but she seemed to see it as a badge of honor.

She later told me she enjoyed making men orgasm; it wasn't challenging but it made her feel beautiful, or accepted or something. I told her she was beautiful either way, and meant it. She was smart, but she was also packing a great body, enough that I could tell even through the clothes. She had dark brown hair with red highlights, sporting an eyebrow piercing that I found very sexy. I don't know why she wasn't getting sex, but I was definitely glad I had gone up to the penthouse that day. It appeared things were finally turning around for the better.