MACINTOSH U. HAD BEEN WITHOUT A WINNING TEAM FOR A LONG TIME. HOW COULD THEY attract the studs they needed to build tough teams, staring with football? Of course! Broads! And what better place to recruit their recruiters, than right on campus? In Sex in America, edited by Henry Anthone Grunwald, we are told that: "The temptations of sex try the rational capacities of many persons. Certainly the many heavy sexual pressures which our culture places on young people should be lightened. But there are other sexual temptations which try our rational capacities also. Nor does the interpersonal relationship approach rely solely upon sheer intellectual ism and exertion of will power. The genuine and deep satisfactions of meaningful interpersonal relationships create a capacity in the individual for self-acceptance and identification. These will make control much more a matter of personal satisfaction and much less a struggle of the will, than most of us are aware can be the case.'
1
COACH BRADLEY WALKED UP AND DOWN between the two rows of boys, glaring now at one, now at another, then collectively at all of them. There were the football team, the basketball team, and the baseball team, not to mention some tennis players and track runners. Some looked sheepish, some tried to sit up straight and look proud, but they all had an air of dejection about them.
"All right, you bunch of girls," the coach snarled. "You know why you're here. This is the second straight year the basketball team didn't win a game-the second straight year!" Now the basketball players looked particularly dejected, while a few of the other boys smiled at them with a brief feeling of superiority.
"Why are you guys laughing?" the coach yelled, looking at those with big smiles on their faces. "It's three years since you football boys" won a game!" Now the football players, hung their heads, while some of the basketball players raised theirs and looked almost happy. But since some of those on the basketball team were also on the football team, a few looked doubly dejected and woebegone.
Coach-Bradley went on, "You track boys look like you're out for a Sunday walk, and you guys playing tennis, you aren't playing against your fathers. And I'm going to put skirts on the baseball team one of these days."
There was giggling behind the coach at this, and he spun around and glared. Suddenly there was absolute silence.
"Two years, and we ain't had a single victory celebration in this room, not one lousy victory where we could come in feeling good and shout to the rafters. Not one. And me? I've got just one more year here if I don't come up with a winning team-I don't care if it's football or tennis or what-and if I don't, I'm going to be out on my ear. Oh, they're going to be nice about it, they're going to say it wasn't really my fault, but they're going to squeeze me out."
He walked up and down, looking at each face individually, looking for signs of concern or indifference. "Me!" he roared. "When I've been the sole support of my mother since I was ten years old! And if you don't care about your ol' coach going out on his ear, think of my mother. Don't you care if she starves?"
There was silence for a minute. Then someone said, "Coach?"
"Yeah, what is it, Smokey?" He didn't have to turn around. He knew the boys by their walks, by their voices, even by the way they hung their heads after every defeat.
"We're doing our best."
The coach sauntered down to Smokey, put his hand behind the lad's neck, and for a brief moment, the whole gang thought the coach was going to handle him roughly, throw Mm to the floor or something. But he only patted Smokey's neck, then ran his hand through the boy's crew-cut hair.
"I know you are," Bradley said softly. The boys relaxed a little, for this was more like the coach they admired and followed to the limits of their ability. "I know you boys are giving all you've got out there," he went on. "Don't you think I know that? I've seen you come in here ready to cry because you've tried so hard and still lost, and I've wanted to tell each one of you it was all right, there would be another day. So don't listen to me when I get mad. I don't mean half what I say."
Now the boys relaxed completely and smiled. A few joggled their neighbors and said, "I told you so," while Bradley lit a cigar. Then suddenly he really did get mad.
"No, it isn't you boys. It's that bunch of penny-pinching, dim-witted, blockhead dunderheads that are running this school, or think they are! It would be too much for them to give me a little money so I could buy good athletes. MacIntosh U. doesn't do that; they tell me. Oh, it wouldn't be ethical."
He said this last in a sing-song voice in imitation of a pansy, and the body roared with laugher, so Bradley went on in the same way. "We don't do those things here. You'll just have to do with what you have."
He let the laughter die down and then went on, "Solid. He looked around at the boys now, for he was about to explode his firecracker. "I've decided there's only one way we can compete with the other schools and come up with a winning team next year. We're going to have to make use of girls."
Some of the boys looked surprised, some puzzled. Truckdriver, a six-foot-four bruiser who played fullback, scratched his head and said, "Coach, I ain't never known a girl who could play football worth a damn."
Bradley suppressed a urge to ridicule the not-too-bright Truckdriver, and even glared down those who-giggled. When there was silence, he spoke.
"We ain't gonna use them to play with a football or a baseball. We're going to use them to play with the boys. So when the high-school athletes come looking us over-well, we can't offer them money, we can't offer them a big name or a winning team, but we can offer them girls. I want them to think the place is swarming with willing girls. Are you getting me? Girls who like to fool around, girls who'll let a bashful guy cop a feel, girls whose clothes aren't too tightly buttoned. We'll give these boys the time of their lives."
The coach puffed on his cigar now, looking out of the corner of his eye to see how they were taking it. "And you boys will have to supply your girl friends," he said suddenly. This was the clincher. If they rebelled at that, he was lost.
There was some mumbling. Then Truckdriver spoke out. "Coach, my girl doesn't like any other boy but me."
"Oh, she doesn't have to like the guy," Bradley yelled. "She only has to give him a good time. And besides, it doesn't have to be your number one girl. Is there any guy here that doesn't have at least three or four girls chasing after him?"
The boys smiled at this. It wasn't true, except for a few. As members of alosingteam, they were no more campus heroes than the ping-pong team; but they liked to hear the coach put it that way.
"Now, the first group is coming up next weekend. Five guys from Hilltop High-three football, one basketball, one tennis. I want 'em made happy-awfully happy-while they're here, you know what I mean? I want 'em to go away with their heads swimming, stars in their eyes. I want 'em to go home with one thought in their minds; that, girls are soft and look kinda nice without much on, and they're swarming all over MacIntosh U. I need five volunteers."
A whole array of .hands shot up, and Bradley stood there beaming, because he knew they were with him. It would work, it would work. "Okay, you, you ... you, you, and you. And the rest of you guys, Just be ready. I'll be calling on you later. Oh! And one more thing. Why do you think Murph and Big Ben aren't here?" These were his assistants.
"No, Truckdriver," the coach smiled. "They're not sick. They're not here because they don't know about this meeting. It's all my idea, and it better not leak out, or I'll really be tossed out on my ear. So keep it under your hats."
Spider, the basketball center, imitated Truck-driver's voice. "Uhhh, coach, I don't wear a hat."
The whole gang laughed.
"Get out of here, you bunch of rummies," the coach yelled, with a good-natured smile on his face.
2
THE BOYS FROM HILLTOP DIDN'T KNOW WHAT HAD hit them. They had expected to be shown the campus, to be told what buildings were what, and how much school spirit there was. But here they were in a roomful of girls in a party-like atmosphere, and there wasn't an adult around to frown whenever they were having too much fun.
What is more, the girls didn't exactly act like official guides. They had put a record on and were now dancing a wild dance, hiking up their skirts and shaking their bosoms. Oh, they had delightful thighs-naked, firm, and beautiful.
Jeffrey, a shy, good-looking tennis player, sat on one side of the sofa watching it all with a big smile on his face. As a tennis player, he hadn't been a much-noticed athlete around the school and hadn't developed the swagger with girls that some of the other fellows had, and so he didn't call encouragement and whistle the way the other guys did. He just sat back and enjoyed himself, wondering if he should turn his head away when a girl hiked her skirt up so far he could see her .panties. He thought he should, but the girls didn't seem to expect him to, and their flashing thighs were so delightful to look at. GoshI He had heard some wild stories about college girls, but he didn't think they were actually true.
A breathless girl plopped down next to him on the sofa. She took Jeffrey's hand and heaved her bosom a few times in his face, trying to catch her breath. "C'mon and dance," she finally said.
She held his arm across her boobs so that his wrist and hand were pressed against her left breast-really pressed against the firm flesh-and Jeffrey's instinct was to withdraw his arm lest she think him forward, but she held it tightly and well. Maybe she didn't know where it was, he thought.
"I'm Susan. Who are you?"
"Jeffrey."
"Well, c'mon and dance with me, Jeffrey."
Jeffrey was now stiff with delight, and he dreaded the idea of standing up. Somebody would notice, and they would all laugh. "I-I-No, I'd rather not right now. Gimme a few minutes."
"Oh, come on. Don't hold back!" She clapped him on the inside of the thigh, and his eyes almost popped out of his head. If she had clapped him about two inches higher, she might have been surprised. But she didn't give him time to reflect long.
She jumped up, said, "Come on," once more, and pulled him so hard that before he knew it, he was on his feet and pressed tight against that budding young body, trying to back away for fear she would know what was embarrassing him.
Suddenly she stopped dancing and whispered in his ear: "It's all right, don't pull away. It's all right."
It's all right? Did she mean--? But Jeffrey wasn't given any time for speculation.
"Relax," she whispered. "Don't you like to dance close to a girl?"
"Well ... gosh ... most of the time."
"Then relax and come close to me. It's all right. I know."
Jeffrey gradually relaxed and pressed himself closer to her, expecting at any moment she would say, "Oh!" and maybe walk away. But she didn't. She even pushed closer to him, if anything, and now he was as close as he could get, and she was only looking up at him with a tender, loving look.
"There, isn't that better?" she asked softly.
Jeffrey sighed. "Yes," he breathed. "Yes, yes, it is."
And it was, to him. It was delightful, that slender, young body pressed against him, breasts, belly, the little knobs at the crotch, and all with such an air of unconcern. Why, he had never known quite anything like it before, feeling free to press right back without embarrassment over what had always plagued him when dancing close to girls. Why,, it felt natural for the first time in his life, absolutely natural, and he had never known quite such exhilarating delight before.
Now they danced around, Jeffrey not caring whether they bumped into anyone or kept time to the music. He wasn't even sure his feet were touching the floor.
"Let's go swimming!" one of the girls yelled, and all the other girls took up the cry. "Swimming! Swimming!"
They were on the second floor of the Student Center, which had a swimming pool in the basement, and now they ran helter-skelter down to the basement, each girl leading a boy-right into the girls' locker room.
They all stopped, the boys feeling rather self-conscious, wondering if at last the girls were going to say they had stepped a little too far, but the girls weren't at all in such a mood.
"Okay," the lead girl said.. "There are some bathing suits for you guys. Now, we're going down this lane, and you're going down that lane, and if any of you guys peek over the tops or around the ends of these lockers, you're going to get your heads bashed in. How about it, girls T
"Darn tootin!" one yelled. Then they all brandished their fists as if they meant business, and went skipping down their aisle of lockers.
The boys were in no mood to violate the prohibition. It was enticing enough to think thattherewere only one set of lockersless than six feet-away from a covey of good-looking girls who were taking off their clothes and who could easily be pictured in various stages of disarray.
So the boys sat on thebenches, hardly moving, staring down at the floor, listening to the girls chatter about records they hadbought or exams they had just flunked, picturing them kick off their shoes, and pull their dresses over their head, or unbutton their blouses, slip their skirts down over their hips, and step out of them.
One girl even said, "Here, I can't get this undone. Unhook me, would you, Barbara?*"
Five boys were able to picture the brassiere coming undone with Barbara's help, then sliding over the first girls' arms, her breasts standing clear and bare and shimmering-and each boy was sure he was picturing just the girl who had said it.
"God, this is tight," one girl said. "I can hardly get it above my knees."
And five boys could picture the naked girl with a tight bathing suit just above her knees, twisting this way and that, trying to pull it up. So close. One could easily have clambered on top of the lockers that separated the two groups. The boys' skin tingled with delight.
"I'll help you!" one of the boys yelled.
"If you want to get bopped on the head," a girl yelled back, and they giggled.
Anyway, the boy's yell had broken the trance-like concentration on that side of the lockers, and now the boys got undressed and hopped in their swim trunks in double quick time.
They splashed and frolicked about, happy in their freedom from adult control, in the warm water, and in-well, a frisky companions of the opposite sex. The more venturesome boys wasted little time in testing the inclinations of the girls, ducking them, fooling around a little, feeling here and there. Well, it was almost unavoidable if the girl tried to resist ducking-even a prude would have to admit that. And if a few of the girls squirmed away when the boys got very, very frisky, none got really mad, and none squirmed away at the first touch.
Jeffrey was standing in shallow water, watching all the friskiness with a big grin on his face. He liked to see people happy, and wanted to join in their fun, but he had always been so afraid of being pushed away by girls that he'd held himself back, and had to work his courage up before he could make a move.
A tall, red-haired girl came over to him. "Hi. Why are you just standing here?"
"I dunno. Just watching."
"Hey! You got a pretty big suit there. Didn't they have one your size?"
"Couldn't find one."
"Why, I bet a girl could just come along and yank it down!" In saying this, she grabbed his suit with both of her hands, pulled it down to his thighs, then tugged it backup. "Yeah, I thought so," she said matter-of-factly.
Jeffrey's eyes got big, and his breath wouldn't come for half a minute. His whatsis had been naked for that brief time, and the water was so transparent. Nothing like that had ever happened before, and though he thought he should be embarrassed and bothered, he had the curious and unexpected feeling that it was all right, that there wasn't the slightest reason to feel shame. The girl was so calm and unafraid-why, he'd always thought girls were supposed to scream and run away-or, in this case, go splashing away. He found himself relaxed and grinning.
"Well, we wouldn't want that to happen," he said.
"Why not?" And now she yanked his suit down to his knees before she pulled it back up. "You have nothing to worry about. There isn't a girl here who would be afraid to see you naked."
"Well ... " Jeffrey didn't know exactly what a guy should say to a comment like that.
"Betyou can't pull mine down."
She was wearing a two-piece suit, and now she stood with her arms out, daring Jeffrey to try to pull the bottom half down.
"Are you the one who had so much trouble getting it on?" he asked.
"I'm the one. It was a bitch."
"I doubt if I could do any better."
"Give it a try. Maybe you're stronger."
Jeffrey hooked his thumbs inside the suit at each side pf her waist and yanked, but nothing happened.
"Guess not."
"You give up too easily. Try rolling."
"Rolling?"
She rolled the suit down one inch, and then, so that he wouldn't miss the point, rolled it down another inch. "like that."
"Yeah, I see." Jeffrey grinned sheepishly.
"See is you can do it."
"Well ... " Jeffrey tried it himself a few rolls. "Yeah, I guess that's one way you could get it off."
"I didn't tell you to stop, did I."
"Well, no. I just thought-"
"Don't think. I like to wear my suits down farther. They're too restricting this way."
"Okay, but don't forget to tell me when I've gone far enough."
The girl smiled. His fingers made her tingle, and she moved ever so much closer to him. "You have gentle hands. You're not a football player, are you?"
"No, tennis."
"Ah, I knew it." Now she suddenly turned around and presented her back. "Untie me," she commanded.
"Untie you? But then it'll fall off."
"We'll see. Come on. It's just like your shoestring."
Jeffrey hesitated two seconds, then pulled on a loose strand until the knot came undone. The redhead suddenly turned back around, pulled Jeffrey's trunks down to his ankles, then got out of the water. Jeffrey was hardly aware that he was standing there almost stark naked. When the girl had ducked down with his trunks, the top half of her suit had floated on top of the water, and when she'd come back up, she'd picked it up nicely with her breasts. So for those few seconds, Jeffrey had looked down on the girl in the water, naked above the waist, naked except for that dash of black cloth around her loins and now the vision stayed with him. He was transfixed. He had never seen anything like that before.
The girl strode along the side of the pool, holding the bra part with one hand, throwing the other hand in the air. "Monster!" she yelled. "What sort of people do you have at your high school? Look what that boy did to me. Why in another minute, he would have had me stripped! He would have pushed this down like so, and this down like so."
In saying this, she pushed down first one side of her suit and then the other, so that, now the garment rode low over her abdomen. The boys had stopped their fooling around to watch, for if the lower half was getting dangerously low, the top half was held rather loosely and occasionally fell away entirely when she wasn't careful. Jeffrey had recovered enough to pull his trunks back up, but now he stood with teeth chattering. He had heard about girls who misrepresented the facts, and now he stood aghast, thinking she was completely serious.
"And me such a nice girl!" the redhead went on. "How was I to know? Then, in another second, he would have pushed this down another inch, and then this the same way." With her free hand, she again pushed down one side and then the other side of her suit, so that a wide expanse of white abdomen showed, and Jeffrey feared that with another inch she would be showing more than white skin.
But while Jeffrey stood aghast, the other guys whooped it up, calling for her to go further, further. One of the boys jumped out of the pool, ran to the girl and pulled on her trunks-and now the-girl really was in a dilemma. With one hand, she held onto the lower half, and with the other she struck out at the guy, but this caused her top half to fall, so she grabbed at it, . leaving the bottom half unguarded. Then the boy, despite the blows she was dealing him, stuck his hand in there and yanked down on the little strip of cloth, and her red poppy popped out.
"You son of a bitch!" she yelled. Trying to pull up the lower half of her suit with one hand, and forgetting about the top half, she chased the guy around the rim of the pool, striking him on the back time after time (he ran only fast enough to allow her to keep up) while her breasts wobbled with her exertions. And all this time, the boys, including the boy being chased, were whooping, yelling and laughing.
Finally the girl tired of this, and with a threat about what she would do if she caught the guy, she jumped into the pool. But she had gotten so much attention that it was inevitable that another girl would soon do the same thing.
Now Barbara jumped out, ran along the side to where the red-head had been. Barbara was a brunette, slimmer and with smaller breasts, but she was all woman, as she soon showed. She gyrated her hips and held her arms in contorted positions like an Egyptian belly-dancer. One hand snaked around behind her and her bra came loose, but she held it in place with the other hand.
The boys were whistling and cheering her now.
"Drop it!" one yelled.
"Off with it!" came from another.
But the girl was intent on her dance, and gyrated to her imagined music, one hand holding the bra in place. Occasionally she would change hands, giving the boys a brief hope that she would slip up. Then, holding the bra at the nipples with each hand, she bent over, and the boys clamored for her to go just one more step.
Suddenly she turned around and threw that strip of cloth over her head into the pool. With her back to her audience and her hands interlocked behind her head, she gyrated about some more, and it was a lovely sight, that long, slender, bare back, now turning this way, now that, the side of first one breast showing, then the side of the other. Then her hands went down to the bottom half of her suit; and, like the redhead, she rolled it down halfway, then a little further, and then so far it wouldn't have been more tummy that showed next. She turned around to her whistling, cheering audience, her hands cupped over her smallish breasts.
"More, more!" one boy yelled, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"More?" the girl asked innocently. "But I'm a nice girl." The boys laughed at this. But the girl kept her cool and repeated it. "Oh, I'm such a nice girl ... that I cannot deny a request."
So saying, she turned around and dropped her pants, stepped out of them and threw them over her head into the pool. She was stark naked, and boys were almost wild in their cheering.
Now she did a teasing dance, raising her arms high above her head when her back was turned. Then, putting an arm across her breasts and a hand over her parsley patch, she turned around and gyrated some more. Then, again turning around, she raised her arms above her head.
Jeffrey was entering into the spirit of it all and found this a beautiful sight-the slender, naked body turning this way and that, the girl so unafraid of the boys, of censure, just happy in her exquisite beauty.
Then, turning around and covering herself with her hands, she jumped into the pool. But the stage wasn't bare long. A third girl jumped up and went through her version. There was none of that turning around stuff for her. First the bra was loosened. Then, while she held that in place (loosely), she used her other hand to push down the lower half of her suit. Every so often, she would change hands, catch the bra halfway to her waist, and put it back where it belonged. It was simple enough at first, but when the lower half slid over her butt-cheeks onto her thighs, she was caught trying to hold the bra with one hand, push the suit down with a second, and cover her furpiece with a third. But there was no third hand, and the result was a flash of hands, a falling bra caught and returned, a glimpse of the fur-piece, quickly obscured. The trunks, in the meantime, were slowly making their way down her legs, until at last she stepped out of them and held the two brief garments modestly in front of her.
Suddenly, throwing them in the air, she raised her arms above her head and yelled, "Happy New Year!" and dove into the pool.
Immediately, a fourth girl came up-Susan, the one who'd danced with Jeffrey. She was wearing a one-piece suit, and turning her back on the boys, she pulled down the zipper and wriggling sensuously out of it. With her, it wasn't so much how she got out of her suit, as it had been with the other girls-it was what she did afterwards.
When she had stepped out of her suit and kicked it aside, she turned around, one arm held lightly across her breasts, the other handover her triangle. She went through a slow, rhythmic, sensuous dance in which, despite her nakedness, she called attention to the beauty of all parts of her body-even out to her fingertips-so gracefully did she move. Occasionally she switched hands, but not in a coy, teasing manner. Rather, it was slowly, gracefully done, because it was all part of the dance. Then she had her hands out to the side and above her head, swaying rhythmically to some jungle music that only she could hear.
The greatest tribute paid to the sheer beauty of her dance was that the boys, who had been whistling and cheering, were silent now. There was something breathtakingly beautiful about the scene.
Then Susan stopped and without haste, without false modesty, she covered herself with her hands again. "I need a suit to hide my nakedness," she said simply. "Let me have yours."
She pointed to one of the boys. He hesitated, looked around as if for an escape route, then quickly doffed his skimpy suit and threw it to her. "Thank you," she said, and she held it before her moss. "And yours," she said to another boy. Without hesitation, he dropped his trunks and threw them to her. "Thank you," she said again. Then, throwing both suits in the air, she dove into the pool.
"Marsha!" one of the girls yelled. Marsha was the only girl who had not performed, the only girl who still had anything on.
"Hell, I can't beat that," Marsha said good-naturedly as she got up along the edge of the pool. And she couldn't have, if she'd tried to do the same thing Susan had done. But if she couldn't beat it, she could and did tie it, in her own way.
A pleasingly plump blonde girl, Marsha was all circles, and had a sexiness about her that slenderer and more beautiful girls could seldom reach, and no one could understand why. Now she stood before the boys, running her hands over her breasts (her bra had been thrown away quickly), so that each boy there felt he was doing it himself, felt those pert nipples rub against his fingertips.
The bottom half of her suit went the way all the other garments had, and now she stood before them, running her hands over body in a frank, sexually inviting manner. Again they boys were silent, and their breath came short.
"Do you know how I feel when I'm naked?" she suddenly yelled. "I feel like skipping and running and jumping, it's all so wonderful." she answered right away, then suited her actions to her springs. It was a delight for all to see as Marsha exulted uninhibitedly in her nakedness. Even for the girls it was a delight, and the boys paid her the compliment (as they had with Susan) of not leering too hard at the parts that had recently been covered.
"Let me have your trunks, hot-shot!" Marsha said to Jeffrey, when she had stopped the cartwheels.
He gulped, because he was standing right next to a girl, and the last thing he wanted was for her to see his actual state of arousal.
Then he suddenly said, "Ah, what the hell," doffed his suit and threw it at the naked girl.
"And yours," she said to another fellow. And when he had complied, she asked the last fellow with trunks on to contribute his, which he immediately did. But instead of covering herself to tease the boys some more, as everyone expected, she threw them away.
"Now we're all au naturel," she said, still going through her dance. She ran her hands up her thighs and over her belly, then lifted her breasts a little and let them fall back ever so slightly to their natural position. She then moved her shoulders and let those full, grapefruit-like tits sway gently back and forth.
"Now is there anything wrong with that?" she asked.
"Nothing wrong with what lean see," one boy yelled.
"And since we're all in a natural state, I think we ought to have a natural little game of catch. The girls have to tag the boys where they're hard, and the boys have to tag us where we're soft ... and furry. The first guy to tag all five girls wins, and the first guy to be tagged by all five loses, and the same with girls. So we'll have two winners and two losers. We'll figure out the prizes and penalties afterward. Okay, everybody out for themselves and you're all on your own."
Suddenly the pool came to life again as the five naked boys and five naked girls splashed about, alternately trying to get close enough to tag and and back away very hastily-after all, it was only the fifth boy they had to worry about-and the boys found it easy to run their hands down over the girls' smooth bellies to their soft, furry triangles. And if the girls reached back and tagged the boys where the boys were supposed to be tagged, well, the boys didn't object to that. Most of them even stayed in the tagging position for a few minutes.
Susan climbed out of the pool and dove for Jeffrey, who stood transfixed by the sight of that splendid white body streaking toward him. She had just surfaced and cupped him where he was supposed to be tagged-she was stroking him, really, rather than tagging him when they were all startled by a loud clapping, and an angry woman's voice yelling, "What's this? What's this?"
It was the voice of Miss Jellicoe, head of the women's physical education department.
3
THEN ALL STOPPED DEAD IN THEIR TRACKS, some (mostly the boys) looking sheepish, some looking a little defiant, waiting to see what she would do.
"What's this?" she repeated when she had their attention.
"We're just swimming, Miss Jellicoe," Marsha answered.
"That I can see. Well, get out of there. I want the girls over there and the boys over here."
"We can't, Miss Jellicoe," Barbara said timidly.
To show she understood the situation without actually saying she did, Miss Jellicoe picked up a few stray bathing suits, looked at them and tossed them back down. "Oh, yes you can," she said in a no-nonsense mood. "Now, get out of there."
Slowly, reluctantly, first a few hardy souls and then the whole gang got out, drippingly naked, and went to where they'd been told to go-the girls in one line, the boys in another. The girls were braver than the boys in one respect. Without exception, they stood with their arms at their sides. There were tall girls and short girls, so their dark patches went up and down along
The boys, on the other hand, with only one exception, tried to cover what they had, though without much success. The one exception was Jeffrey. Having began the evening as the shyest of the group, he was now the most unabashed, and exulted in the nakedness around him as well as his own. So he stood with his hands at his sides, and everyone could see there was something upright and straight-forward about him.
Miss Jellicoe walked along the line of girls and made a mental note of their names. "Barbara, Susan, Marsha, Veronica, and Helen. Well, have you girls been enjoying yourselves?"
"Yes, very much," Marsha said without embarrassment.
Miss Jellicoe had to suppress a smile. It would not do for them to know that she considered it all an amusing and harmless escapade. They would have to think of her as a stern, forbidding old maid (she was actually a very attractive young woman, a little short of thirty) so she suppressed the smile and spoke sternly, "Now, you girls go get dressed."
They scampered away, and Miss Jellicoe went over to the boys. "Who are you boys?" she asked the whole gang.
"We're from Hilltop High," Jeffrey said. "We were invited here for the weekend to look the school over."
"I see," Miss Jellicoe said. "And have you enjoyed the view?" She betrayed no hint of humor in her eye, but a few of the boys felt they had to suppress a laugh.
"Gosh, yes," one boy said.
Another said. "The best yet!"
"You!" she said to one boy. "I suppose you're a football player."
He was a husky bruiser and could hardly have been anything else. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled.
"Well, I guess we can use you. Go get dressed, and I hope we see you next September."
Now a big grin spread across his face. "Gosh, I hope so," he gushed, and then ran to the dressing room.
"And you?" she said to the next boy.
"Basketball."
"We'll see. Well, go get dressed and come back next September."
"I hope so," he yelled louder than was necessary in his enthusiasm.
"And you," she asked the third boy. "Football."
"You too. Get dressed and be here next September."
"Gosh, I will!" he too yelled. "And you."
"Football too."
"Three football players. Well, we might have a team next year if you all showup. Go get dressed."
"Gosh, thanks," he said, not knowing what else to say, and he scampered away.
Miss Jellicoe stood before brave Jeffrey. "Tennis," he said.
"I didn't ask," she retorted.
Jeffrey almost thought he saw a glint of sly humor in her eyes, and didn't know what to make of it. Then she turned on her heel, said. "Follow me," and went down to the other end of the pool, and through a door Jeffrey hadn't noticed before. He dutifully followed.
She walked along a corridor, up a flight of stairs, along a carpeted corridor now, across a large room, along another carpeted corridor, to a door which she unlocked. Then she locked it again when they had both stepped through the doorway into a dark room. But if
Jeffrey had exulted in nakedness when among a group of ten naked people and one clothed woman, he didn't feel so comfortable standing stark naked in front of this one clothed woman now. And besides, he was cold.
She noticed him shivering, and in the dim moonlight, she got a towel from a bottom drawer in her desk, came over and rubbed him dry.
"Feel better?" she asked softly.
"Yes, much better," he whispered. He didn't know she had spoken softly because it was a tender moment for her, not because she was afraid of being overheard.
He wondered where on earth his clothes were, how he would ever find his way back to them, and what the woman had in mind, torturing him like this. He was just about to ask her if he could go get his clothes when he saw what was on her mind.
His eyes had gotten better accustomed to the dark, and there in the moonlight that seemed almost bright now, she was unhurriedly taking off her clothes. First she kicked off her shoes. Then her one-piece dress came up over her head, and she was standing in a half-slip and brassiere.
Jeffrey didn't know exactly what he was supposed to do, whether he should help her, or stop her, or what, but while he was wondering, she stepped out of her half-slip-and then, without breaking her pace, without any coyness or "look at me" posturing, she unhooked her brassiere and let it slide off her arms.
Her breasts glistened white and smooth in the moonlight, fuller breasts than most of the girls at the pool' had showed, but not sagging, and somehow seeming to point at him. They were beautiful, and Jeffrey felt his foremost part grow another inch.
Then, still with her air of unconcern, she pulled her panties down, let them drop to the floor, and stepped out of them. Jeffrey felt himself grow another inch. It was all so beautiful.
Down at the pool it had been delightful and even exhilarating, but somehow it had been a little impersonal with ten people running around naked. Now he was alone with one woman, and she had no fear of his nakedness before her, nor of her own before him. What's more, she was a full-grown, mature woman, and she had taken off her clothes with such beautiful style-without hurry or haste, without reluctance or coyness or pride or shame-that now it seemed the most natural thing in the world for this woman to have invited him to her office and taken off her clothes. He suddenly realized he was grinning from ear to ear, it was all so wonderful.
"Let's-sit over here," she said.
So they sat on her scruffy couch by the window, two white bodies glistening in the moonlight, two dark patches cutting a triangular pattern in the center of the whiteness, so alike were they, and yet so different. She didn't have a telephone pole looming out of hers, and that was the whole point of their sitting side by side, wasn't it?
"You may put your arms around me," she said softly.
Jeffrey put one arm behind her and ran the other across her belly. She lifted this arm so that his hand rested gently on one of her breasts, and Jeffrey had a greater surprise than any other he had had yet. had on that evening full of surprises. He had known she was naked, he had even seen her take off her clothes. Yet, it hadn't seemed altogether real until he had touched her bare flesh, had slid his hand over the soft smooth skin of her breast, had felt the nipple bump against the heel of his hand.
And now the reality of this woman hit him with something of a shock, but an exhilarating shock. He felt lifted up. Here this woman (And how beautiful she was appeared to him!) sat unconcernedly naked beside him, and it was all true-girls were beautiful, and they did like boys, and he just felt as if he was going to float up to the ceiling!
She looked at him so tenderly, even lovingly, that he got bolder, and ran his hand down over her abdomen, over the smooth lower belly until he touched her fur-piece. Ah, that too is real, he thought to himself, for he hadn't quite believed in "that too" until he had touched it. And now, as he ran his fingers gently through the soft fur, it all seemed so wonderful that. Suddenly it was all too wonderful, and he backed away from her.
"What's the matter?" Miss Jellicoe asked, alarmed.
"I don't know. I'm ... just afraid."
"Afraid. Of me?"
"No. Afraid ... something's going to happen."
She understood immediately, and got up and fetched a towel. "All right?"
Jeffrey relaxed. "All right."
He put his arms around her again, and pulled her close, and now he felt the soft touch of her hand on his body, and a new delight shot through him. She ran her hand lightly over his chest, his belly, and then ... It was a good thing he had the towel, because when she touched his telephone pole, something did happen.
Jeffrey felt himself carried up to a never-never land where everything was just right, where people were all beautiful and loved each other, everything felt good, bright colors danced before his eyes, everything was perfect, and he heard himself shout out for the pure joy of it.
Gradually, slowly, as if he were making his way through cotton candy, he came back to earth and realized-where he was, saw the woman beside him looking tenderly at him, looking at the towel on his lap. "I feel ashamed," he said.
"Why should you feel ashamed?" she asked with a touch of anger.
"I don't know. I just do."
"What do they teach you people, that a young, healthy boy should feel ashamed for what is as natural as winter and summer? Come." She took his hand, tossed the towel in a corner, and led him to her private shower.
She soaped him all over, then had him do the same to her, and then they rinsed each other off. She rubbed him briskly with a towel, then he did the same to her. He was learning. When he dried her breasts, he stood behind her and rubbed them with both hands, feeling the firm, movable flesh under the towel. He kneaded her breasts, lifted them, let them down, then slipped a hand under the towel, while Miss Jellicoe only purred and leaned back against him.
When they were done drying each other, he stood erect before her. "I didn't think it would happen again tonight," he said wonderingly.
"You're not a sixty-year-old man. Come on."
She took his hand and they went into the moonlit room again, only now they lay down on the couch, and Jeffrey could feel her body along the whole length of his. Then she was squirming around, pulling him on top of her. He resisted at first, because it didn't seem logical that the bigger person should be on top. But she had a stronger will right then, and he found himself on top, being pulled toward her, pulled toward that quivering pink flesh, pulled toward a delight that already made him tingle. Then his rigid pole was absorbed by her body, and it was wonderful.
It felt so warm and cushy In there, he could only believe that, that was the way it should be, that was where it should stay all night. And now it suddenly seemed right that he was on top, for he felt so light and airy, he was certain he didn't weigh so much as a feather, and the woman didn't seem to be conscious of any weight.
She was squirming and groaning beneath him, her eyes half-closed, a smile on her lips. All of a sudden she clasped Jeffrey tightly against her and let out several loud exclamations. "Uh! Uh! OH!" Then she relaxed, slowly let go of him, and lay back.
"Are you all right?" Jeffrey asked solicitously.
Miss Jellicoe laughed. "Yes, my dear child. I am quite all right. Don't you know what happened?'
"I-I'm not sure."
"You gave me the greatest joy a man can give a woman. You're a good lover."
"Who, me?"
"Yes, you!" she whispered in his ear. Then, drawing him close to her, she rocked him gently until she could feel his lithe body squirming with delights.
Then he let out a loud "OH!" and collapsed.
Miss Jellicoe sneaked down and got Jeffrey's-clothes and brought them back. He sat limp on the edge of the couch and could hardly muster the energy to put on his undershorts.
"I'm all tuckered out," he sighed.
Miss Jellicoe sat beside him, smoothed the hair back from his forehead and said softly, "I think you'll recover." Then a thought occurred to her. "You know, I don't even know your name, and you don't even know mine."
"I'm Jeffrey. And you?"
"Call me Jane. Unless ... "
"Unless what?"
"Do you think you'll be coming to MacIntosh U. next September?"
"Gosh, I hope so."
"Then you'll have to call me Miss Jellicoe if you ever see me on campus."
"Okay, Jane Jellicoe. I'll remember."
"And when you come back next September, will you come and see me?"
"Gosh, yes, if you want me to."
"Yes," she said. She brushed back his hair again and took his head and drew it toward her. "I want you to." Then she gave him a kiss that made his head spin.
Miss Jellicoe wasn't the only one who had singled Jeffrey out that night. One of the girls spent a sleepless time of it, tossing and turning in her bed.
The image of Jeffrey's innocent, gentle face haunted her. She didn't know that Jeffrey had lost his innocence that night, and she saw him as the type of boy who would only want a "nice" girl. Had she queered the deal? she wondered. Had she queered the deal by running around in her birthday suit just like all other girls ? Would he think her a shameless broad, beneath him ?Or would he have a more sophisticated outlook? After all, he had enjoyed himself at the time. Better still, he might forget what she looked like by the time school opened next September, and she could get a fresh start with him. But then, too, he might go to another college. That thought made Susan sit bolt upright in bed, and she could only reason with herself to lie back down and try to get some sleep.
At last, toward dawn, sleep took over and mercifully relieved her of her anxieties.
4
THE FOLLOWING SEPTEMBER, MacIntosh U. enrolled some pretty good pickings from the surrounding high schools. They got no fewer than five of the first-string all-state football team-which was phenomenal, considering the number of colleges in the state, not to mention those in surrounding states. And they did just about as well with basketball and baseball players.
There was some grumbling around the state at this, for it seemed clear to everybody that MacIntosh U., which had always stood for an honest, no-subsidy policy, had suddenly reversed its position, and many would sooner had seen the Rock of Gibraltar fall. Indeed, the grumbling was so widespread that the president of MacIntosh U. himself was disturbed and decided to look into the matter.
George Wheelock, a handsome bachelor just turned forty, paced that carpet behind his desk, looked out the window occasionally at the students crisscrossing the campus, then turned to the three innocent-looking men before him-Coach Bradley, accompanied by
Murph and Big Ben.
"Chief, I don't understand it any better than you do," Bradley shrugged with open hands. "I guess it's just one of those things."
Wheelock tapped a pencil against his lips. "It just doesn't make sense to me."
"Nor to me either, chief," Bradley said innocently. "So why don't we just accept it and rejoice in it, and not ask questions ? "
But Wheelock wasn't to be put off so easily. "There are really only two reasons why kids will flock to one school or another. Either the college has a tremendous reputation for fielding winning teams, or it offers a nice, fat subsidy. Now, I don't think anybody here's going to say MacIntosh U. has a tremendous reputation for turning out winning teams."
The three coaches laughed softly. "No," Big Ben said. "We're not going to say that."
"So that leaves us with the question of a subsidy." Wheelock said sternly. "I want to know how much you're giving these guys."
"Chief, where the devil would we get the money?" Bradley asked. "Out of my salary? I couldn't subsidize a washerwoman on that!"
"Hmmm." Wheelock stroked his chin. "Well, you could have diverted a slice of last year's gate receipts-oh, not intending to do anything dishonest of course. But you might have felt it would all be paid back with better crowds this year, hmm?"
"We don't even touch any of that money, chief, you know that. Besides, ticket sales were so bad last year, we were thinking of asking the government for assistance under the poverty program."
"Well, how do you account for it, then?"
Bradley shrugged his shoulders. "Luck, I guess."
"Yeah, luck I guess." Big Ben said, grinning, and Murph grinned too.
"All right," Wheelock said sharply. "I suppose you're telling the truth. But if I ever find there's been any shady business, Bradley, out you go on your ear. And out go all the players who have been enticed by your shady deal. Do you understand?"
"Sure, chief. But I assure you, I have nothing to worry about."
It was Friday night, the night before the first big game, with Walkover College. They hadn't beaten Walkover for five years now, and normally they would have as glum as they had been all through the last season. But with new blood on the team, and a hint of trickery up Bradley's sleeve, there was a thrill of enthusiasm around the campus.
And indeed, Bradley did have tricks up his sleeve. The girls who had enticed the boys to the school in the first place had gotten the spirit of the thing, and now, the night before the game, they were going to carry on through, get the boys aroused, rip-roarin' ready to go. "On Friday night, only arouse them," Bradley had instructed them. "Saturday night, you're on your own."
Now they were on the second floor of the student union, and were going to present a show for the boys. They had draped a sheet across the middle of the room, ranged the boys in seats on one side of it, then went to undress on the other.
The boys at first thought they'd have a long, dull wait for the floor show, but they immediately began perking up and nudging their neighbors. It seemed that the girls were clearly silhouetted against the sheet, and now the boys watched the shadows of .two girls kick off their shoes, wriggle out of their dresses, drop their half slips and step out of them. A murmur of delight rippled throughout them, and there wasn't a boy without a big grin, as they pictured the two girls in the skimpiest of garments.
Then there was a gasp of delight when first one girl and then the other unhooked her brassiere and let it slide off, and the nipples of one were outlined clearly against the sheet. Then, when the girls dropped their panties and stepped daintily out of them, the boys let loose with cheers and yells and clapping. One boy sat with his mouth hanging open, saying over and over, "My God, my God." The thought of those girls standing stark naked with only a sheet between them and him was almost too much for him-and for the other boys, too.
Now two more girls came up near the sheet and-likewise undressed while the boys grinned, yelled, and whistled, keeping their eyes glued to the silhouettes. When the girls were completely undraped, one stood in profile against the sheet and ran her hands up over her body and onto her breasts, cupping them, rubbing them, stroking them until the boys nearly went mad from the enticement.
If the boys had been inclined to figure things out-which they weren't-they might have reasoned that there was no real need for the girls to undress in pairs up close to the sheet. They might also have asked why there were special lights on the floor behind the girls, throwing the stark shadows onto the sheet. One who had made these observations might have concluded that the girls had deliberately prepared things to give precisely that effect-as indeed they had, having spent several hours that afternoon determining just where to place the lights, how close to stand to the sheet, and finding out that the closer they got, the starker the outline.
But the boys would have been less boys if they had sat there 'wondering about that. And now, having shown the boys just what they weren't wearing, the girls got into their costumes and showed just what they were wearing-which wasn't much.
One girl, Helen, wrapped a sheet around herself, twisting twice around while another girl held one end. Veronica, a big, strapping blonde, with enormous tits, got into a silk chemise. She was going to entertain the boys by shaking those mountains of flesh under that thin, loose fabric. Susan got into a miniskirt that came halfway up her thighs, and with her slim, smooth legs, that outfit was especially becoming. One girl had cut a hole in a sheet, and now, sticking her head in the hole, she. wore it like a poncho. At last they were all ready and came out to begin the show.
First Veronica sang a song. It was an innocuous song, leading the boys to think that the fun was over and that the girls would now give a floor show of songs and skits, and they would clap politely and then go home. But the big girl in the chemise didn't leave them relaxed for long.
After only a few bars, she began swaying her body, and soon she was shaking it-and at her size, that body was something to shake. As she swayed her body back and forth, the firm breasts seemed to jump with a life of their own under the thin silk chemise; they had a pulsating, throbbing quality that made the boys want to reach out and catch them, as one might grab for a frisky kitten. The boys sat bug-eyed, envying the girl for having a talent they could in no way imitate. And how she delighted in shaking that big body, how she delighted in giving those boys an eyeful.
Now she sauntered over to one boy and stood right before him. Indeed, she brought her breasts to within two inches of his face, and he pulled back as if afraid of being slapped, making all the boys laugh. She ran her hands lightly over his head, then down his arms to his hands, which she pulled up, drawing his fingertips along the sides of her breasts, then backing away while the boy looked at his fingertips and touched each one with his thumbs.
The other boys would have begun to get jealous a-bout this time, except the other girls began doing their stuff. Susan came forth, hiked her skirt another few inches up her thighs, and did a high-stepping dance. If the boys had seen her on a beach, they would have seen even more leg without ever giving it a second thought but now they were extraordinarily entranced by the sight of those flashing legs and the skirt inching up her thighs.
One boy got down on his hands and knees and went "Woof! Woof!" and crawled toward her, looking up, expecting her to back away in mock anger. But she just laughed and kicked a leg over his head, causing all the boys to yell out. So she kicked her leg over his head again. Then, walking away, wiggling her tail, she pulled her skirt up over her rounded buttocks, her sheer panties leaving no doubt about what was underneath.
Helen, in her sheet, asked a boy to hold one end. Then she spun out almost to the end, stopping short and came back. The' boys set up a clamor, yelling, "All the way! All the way!"
But Helen had a condition: "I want you to look that way," she said to the boy holding one end, pointing straight ahead of him. "And another boy here," she said, pointing about six feet away. A boy leaped up eagerly, not knowing the condition about to be imposed on him. "Now, you've got to look that way too, as it you were a block of wood. If one of you looks back, that's all for tonight. And what will your buddies say?" the girl added, wagging a finger.
Now, with the two boys abiding by her instructions, Helen spun out to the end of the sheet and gave the newly released end to the new boy, and there she stood, stark naked behind the sheet with her two sentinels standing tall, looking straight ahead, holding the cloth between them.
Now she did a dance of her own, moving from one end of the sheet to the other, occasionally going one step further, stepping behind a boy and kicking up a leg. The cloth just covered from her breasts to the middle of her thighs, so when she leaped up and did a scissors kick, she gave a flash of her body to the waist, and the boys would cheer. Then she knelt, throwing an arm loosely, modestly, across her fuzzy-wuzzy. The boys seemed to like that, so she stood, threw her other arm across in the same way and knelt again.
Then she ran to one boy and grabbed him by the shoulders and, holding on, threw her whole body out and back. It was a lovely flash of white legs, dark patch and white body-and then no more.
"Okay, boys," she said to her sentinels. "You can turn around now and wrap me up."
She stood with her hands on top of her head, waiting for the boys to comply, but they seemed strangely disoriented. "Here, Roy, you go this way, and ... "
"No, let me go this way, so-no, I think it'd be better if you went-now, let me see."
Somehow, after some stalling around, the boys were able to get the undraped girl properly draped. After patting everything into place and tucking the loose ends securely above her boobs, they had to admit that they were finished, and went to sit down.
And now the girls moved in for the piece de resistance. Veronica pulled one boy to his feet and stood with her back to him, taking his hands and pressing them against her belly. He could feel her warm flesh through the thin silk, and moved his hands about a bit.
"Do you like my tummy?" she asked.
"Gosh, yeah. It's warm."
"And what position do you play?"
"Halfback."
"How many touchdowns are you going to score tomorrow?"
"I dunno. A couple, I hope."
"Just a couple?"
"Well, more if you want."
"I want more. And for every touchdown ... " She took his hands. "Let 'em loose," she said. "Just relax them." Then, when his hands were relaxed and she could move them where she wanted, she drew them lightly over those outstanding breasts and said, "And for every touchdown, this is for you." With that, she pressed his hands firmly against her tits, then quickly broke away. The boy stood there with a glassy stare, looking at his hands. Then a big grin spread over his face.
Susan went over to a husky bruiser and, taking his hand, put it on the inside of her thigh. "You may move your hand up three inches," she said, and he bashfully complied. "How does it feel?"
"Gosh, smooth."
"And what position do you play."
"I'm just a tackle."
"Just a tackle? Aren't they as important as anybody else on the team?"
"Well, yeah, I guess so, in a way."
"You may move your hand up another two inches." She stood looking .tenderly at him. Even though he was a big bruiser, he had a certain bashful boyishness about him that she found very appealing. When he had complied, she said, "And now, two more inches."
"Two more?"
"That's what I said."
The poor fellow didn't see how he could move his hand up two more inches without coming into contact with her crotch, so he tried half of what she'd allowed him.
"One more inch," she said.
The shy guy scratched his head with his free hand, then tried one more inch, and by George, he was sure he could feel more than skin with his fingertips.
"How many tackles are you going to make tomorrow?"
"A lot, I hope."
"I hope so. And for every tackle you make, you may move your hand up five more inches." Then she slipped his hand out and moved away, more to the relief than the disappointment of the husky fellow. Still, his fingers tingled, and he could just see himself upsetting runner after runner.
Marsha was dressed in a poncho-like affair, with slits in the sides. Now she went up to one boy and pulled his hand through one slit and pressed it against her belly.
"What do you feel?"
"Skin," he said, smiling.
"You may move your hand down a little." He moved it down two inches. "And up a little." He moved it up four inches. "And down a little more." He moved it down two inches beyond where he had been. "And up a little more." Now he moved his hand up two inches above where it had been, and one of her breasts rested against his thumb. She pulled her other hand in through the other slit and rested it on his.
"What position do you play?"
"Quarterback."
"Oh, you're the brains of the team? And how many touchdown plays are you going to call."
"Oh, fifteen, I guess."
"Well, at least you're not backward about your abilities. Okay, fifteen it is, or as near as you can make it. And for every touchdown play you call-she moved his hand over her bare breast, lightly. The boy sighed and grinned.
"For every touchdown play you call-"
Again she moved his hand lightly over her tits, letting her nipples scrape his palms, and again the boy sighed.
And now the girl finished off in earnest. "For every touchdown play you call," she said for the third time, now pressing his hand firmly against her left titty, "you can have this." Then she slipped away from him, and he was left with a big grin, a tingling palm, and a bulge where he wished there was no bulge.
The girls took care of all the boys. Oh, each girl couldn't visit each boy, but they visited a good many, and each boy had at least two or three girls come visit him, and leave him grinning.
Then the girls said they would have to get dressed and go home-and would the boys wait and escort them? And how, they would! So again the girls went behind the sheet, undressed and dressed before the light that drew their shadows onto the sheet, while the boys watched.
Only now the boys were quiet and subdued. Their hands tingled, down to the fingertips, and their minds weren't on the sight before them so much as on what they had just felt-all the girls were so warm-and what they were going to do the next day.
5
THE BOYS SEEMED ABNORMALLY PEPPED UP the next day. In the first quarter, Lightbulb threw Charlie two touchdown passes, and Truckdriver (who hadn't even been at the entertainment the night before) plowed through a mass of bodies for a third. The second quarter was much the same thing. Freddie took a handout from Lightbulb and streaked down the sideline for an 85-yard run. Not five minutes later, Truckdriver plowed over for another touchdown.
In the meantime, the other team was completely stymied. Let a player shake loose and make a run for it, and one of the red-and-white uniforms of MacIntosh U. would be seen streaking across the field twice as fast. Let an end prepare to catch a perfect pass down-field, and from out of nowhere came a red-and-white player to knock the ball down-or, in two cases, to intercept.
The result was a halftime score of 35-0-and it was a happy bunch of MacIntosh U. boys that rested during the half. Smiles would suddenly break out on their faces, only to be suppressed, for they didn't want to change their luck by being too sure of themselves.
But it wasn't just luck. The second half was more of the same, the red-and-whites leaping up to snare passes, dashing down the sidelines, or plunging through the whole opposition for a touchdown, flashing out of nowhere to make tackles. The home side stands went wild, the fans leaping up and yelling at each skilled play. There were few who could speak without hoarseness by the end of the evening.
When the final gun sounded, the fans went wild with yelling, screaming and back-slapping, and the players hoisted Coach Bradley up on their shoulders and carried him around the field. In the locker room, after they had set him down, they sang For He's a Jolly Good Fellow, and told him what a great coach he was. In general, there was good feeling such as had not pervaded the locker room after a game in many a year.
Then Wheelock himself came down, congratulated the boys, patted some on the back, shook hands with others. "It's a great day for MacIntosh U., " he said enthusiastically. "I guess they're going to hear from us this season."
The boys sent up a cheer to the rafters and said, "You know it."
"And how," and a bunch of other dumb-sounding bullshit that coaches and presidents like to hear.
Then Wheelock took his leave with a big smile on his face. But though the smile was real, though he did feel happy that they had won, there was something troubling him in the back of his mind. He reached back there and pulled it out, so he could see it. Yes, it was understandable that the team should finally win a game after a losing streak of 32 games. But 67-0? Wheelock felt he would have to look into the matter.
The girls were as good as their promises the following night. Only now there were more girls, more of the football team-and they were at Coach Bradley's farmhouse fifteen miles out of town, where there was no chance of their being inadvertently disturbed.
Some of the girls started the festivities off early by plopping down on the boys' laps and giving them sound smackings right on the lips. These triumphant boys weren't shy any more, so they smacked the girls right back.
"Okay, girls."
"Veronica yelled. "Let's get this show on the road. We've got some entertainment, boys, and if it isn't good enough, just let us know. We'll make it bet-ter-r-r."
Now the girls lined up along one side and the boys sprawled along the couches and chairs that had been placed along the other side. "The first thing we have," Veronica announced, "is a quiz-tease. We ask the questions, and if you know the right answer, you may relieve a girl of an article of clothing of her own choosing. Now Susan, you said you'd begin."
"Okay, who was George Washington's vice-president?"
"John Adams," someone yelled.
"You win the left shoe," Susan said, holding her left foot out. The boy knelt on the floor and pulled her shoe off gently.
"What battle was Napoleon's Waterloo?" a second girl asked.
"Waterloo!" a quick-witted boy answered.
The girl said he could take off her scarf.
For a while it was pretty innocuous-though no one was bored. Then Veronica (who was without shoes now, but had a scarf, not to mention a cardigan sweater) held out her left leg and said, "My stocking."
It was a minor coup. She had picked Lightbulb, a shy lad to begin with, and he didn't know the first thing about undoing a lady's stocking. The result was that he fumbled around, looking shy and embarrassed, while his buddies whooped and hollered. Even though Lightbulb had been there the night before and had been given all sorts of promises if he called touchdown plays (and that he did), he still found it terribly embarrassing to try to remove this flimsy garment. What's more, he suddenly became aware of the beauty of that strong, firm leg, and how close his fingers were to her pussy. Well, it was becoming too much for him, and he felt himself sweating.
At last he got the button-like hooks undone and rolled the stocking down the length of that tapered and shapely leg. Then he suddenly realized that he couldn't stand up, because of his pecker standing up, and so he scooted backward to his chair, among the jeers and cat-calls of those who understood.
The other girls were looking with baleful and envious eyes on all this. None of them had worn stockings, and indeed, Veronica would not normally have worn them, except that she'd thought up the game and had already envisioned this. So now they started asking ridiculously easy questions: Who was Eisenhower's vice-president? What country started the Second World War?
And the boys made a regular march up to the girls gathering sweaters, skirts, and half-slips, until the girls all stood in their skimpiest garments, and now the questions began to get harder.
"Who won the Battle of Waterloo?" Susan asked.
Out of nowhere, without even knowing that he knew it, Charlie yelled. "The Duke of Wellington." And so he became the first man that evening to unhook a brassiere.
"Easy, now," Susan said. "We have a rule tonight that nothing is to show. So not too fast. Now unhook if and hold on, attaboy, now wait a minute." Susan slipped her hands up under the bra cups and said, "All right, now you can take it off."
But Charlie found he couldn't take it off as long as Susan kept her hands there, and she couldn't draw them away, according to the rules. So she put one hand across her boobies and let the other hang down, but the 'brassiere had to be edged along the covering arm with great care until it could be worked free and slipped off the other arm, and Charlie could return to his chair with his trophy.
Barbara and Helen both went through the same difficulties with their respective boys, but Veronica came up with a novel solution.
"Who lived first, Beethoven or Mozart?" she asked.
Now, the boys knew nothing about musicians, and the first answer was Beethoven, but when Veronica said no, Lightbulb had the presence of mind to say, "Mozart," and he was rewarded with the pleasure of unhooking voluptuous Veronica's surprisingly flimsy brassiere.
"Stay there," she commanded, after he had done the unhooking. "Now put your hands on my belly." When he had done so, she took his left hand, slipped it under the bra and secured it firmly to her left breast. Then she did the same with his right hand on her right breast.
"Now remember, don't let anything show," she commanded, "or the girls will make me pay a penalty."
"Hey, that's not fair!" Helen protested. Veronica looked innocently surprised. "Why not?
You said that nothing was to show, not that nothing was to be felt."
"She's right," Barbara defended her, and Veronica smiled at her victory.
So while Lightbulb held those astonishing breasts and allowed Veronica to abide by the rules, she casually let the brassiere slide off and folded it up into a nice, neat triangle saying, "Here, you keep this." She reached behind to stuff it in one of Lightbulb's pockets, but he danced this way and that to keep her from reaching his pocket, and she asked, "What's the matter?"
"I don't know," he wailed. Normally there would have been few things more delightful to Lightbulb than feeling the magnificence of those pulsating boobies in his hands, but now the situation was actually painful to him, and he felt himself a prisoner-not under the worst conditions imaginable, to be sure, but a prisoner nevertheless. He couldn't take his hands away because of his promise, and now he was bulging where he didn't want to bulge, and the girls were beginning to titter, and he had no way to cover his embarrassment, which led him to dance this way and that. It was painful to him.
"What's the matter, Lightbulb?" Veronica asked.
"I don't know. I mean, aren't you done yet?"
Veronica had put her hands up and was patting her hair in place, and now, with elbows akimbo, she clasped her hands behind her neck and looked at the boys who were looking hungrily and enviously at the scene before them, while at the same time they didn't exactly want to be dancing like Lightbulb. At last she took pity on him, put her hands over his and said, "Okay, you can go now."
Lightbulb danced his Way back to his chair bent over, sat down and crossed his arms Over his lap. His buddies guffawed.
"Now the final round," Marsha said. "What year did the First World War begin?"
"Nineteen-fourteen," Freddie yelled, and he had the honor of being the first to draw off a girl's final remaining garment.
Marsha was around-faced brunette with bright blue eyes, and now she had a particularly radiant gleam in her eyes, as she said, "Okay, Freddie. You win. My last piece of clothing. And nothing must show, remember?"
Freddie came up, looked at the white lace briefs and scratched his head. "Nothing?" he asked.
The girls laughed, then Marsha told him, "See that box over there? Get me an apron from it."
The girls had made aprons for themselves, and now Freddie came back with one. If it had been a nice long apron, it would have been a simple enough matter to tie it around Marsha's waist and slip off her panties. But the aprons were rather skimpy, consisting of a strip of cloth and two flaps, and the front flap was only about six inches long and six inches wide.
So it wasn't such an easy matter. Freddie held the garment with one hand and scratched his head with the other, "I can't help you," Marsha warned, "because my hands are tied."
"Yeah, I know," he said unhappily.
"But I can tell you what to do. First roll the panties down a little."
"Roll them down?"
"That's what I said. A little further," she said when he had gingerly complied. "Now tie the apron-attaboy!"
He got the idea and tied the apron just above the panty line. But it was still too far above Marsha's moss, so he had to roll the panties down a little further, then slip the apron down too.
"Easy now," Marsha warned when he came to the critical spot. "Nothing-absolutely nothing-must show."
Freddie was working on it. Now he was kneeling on the floor with his tongue sticking out of one corner of his mouth. His problem was complicated by the fact that both the apron and the panties were made of lacy white cloth, and his head was swimming so that he couldn't tell one from the other. But with everything so white, at least he would know immediately if he failed.
Now he was working on a one-inch basis, moving the panties down an inch over the belly, then around in back, over the buns. Then he was working on a half-inch basis, a little more here, a little more there, until finally the apron seemed to cover everything. He pulled the panties down, and Marsha stepped out of them.
"Nicely done," Marsha said, and the boys gave him a cheer.
Freddie heaved a sigh of relief and started back for his chair.
"But you're not finished yet," Marsha said. "See that other box? There are other aprons-for the top. You've got to tie mine on."
Freddie got one of the different types of aprons, a strip of ruffles, and started to tie it around her boobies. But her hands were in the way, so he went this way and that, trying to slip it in, under, around, until she finally said, "Ah, hell, let's try Veronica's solution. Stand behind me and put your hands on mine." When he had done so, she said, "Now hold them steady." She slipped her hands out, pressed on his lightly, and then she was free to tie her second apron on without difficulty.
The other boys came up in turn-some shy, some bold, some cracking jokes, some quiet, some at ease, some working hard with sweat on their brows, until all the girls were similarly clad, and the floor show began.
First there were some dance numbers, and if the garments were not really big enough to cover everything as the girls hopped around, well, no one was complaining. Veronica did a particularly intriguing number. Starting out crouched on the floor, she wriggled her rear end about and slowly rose up in time to the music, and rising the way she did from a crouch, it seemed for a moment, as if she would rise all the way to the ceiling. There was so much of her, so much flesh, that suddenly she was the Earth Goddess to these boys, and they all loved her.
And it was Veronica who took the first big step. Deciding that the boys had had enough teasing, she grabbed Lightbulb by the hand and said, "Come on, I want you to huddle with me." She led him by the hand to the stairway.
The girls had reconnoitered the house before, noting the dens and cubbyholes that might be suitable for whatever they wanted to do. Now Veronica pounded up two flights of stairs to the attic, where there was a musty smell-and an old cot that she had already tested and found sturdy.
They sat in the moonlight, holding hands, catching their breath from their climbing exertions. At last Lightbulb said, "Aren't you cold?" For of course Veronica had only, those two flimsy garments for the length of that long body.
"Yes, a little." Veronica admitted.
"Well, you can have my sweater," Lightbulb said, taking it off.
Veronica smiled to herself. Well, he wasn't going to be overly aggressive, that was for sure. She undid the top apron, tossed it away and put on the sweater. Though she was a big girl, Lightbulb was even bigger, of course, and the sweater came down far enough to cover her crotch, so she undid the lower apron and tossed that aside. Lightbulb swallowed hard.
"What are you thinking?" she asked softly. For a girl who could belt out songs lustily, she had a curious ability to speak softly and gently.
"I was ... ! was just thinking ... well, I don't know."
She reached over, ran a hand up his forearm, pulled him a little toward her and said, "Gimme a kiss.'
It was a lousy kiss. Lightbulb was so nervous and scared, he knew it was lousy, and he expected her to get up-maybe tactfully, but still get up-and go search for another guy.
"You're shy, aren't you?" she asked.
"I am?" he questioned back, looking surprised. Then, turning away, he said, "Yeah, I guess you could say that. You know, people don't expect it of a football player. They think we're rough and touch, that we swagger about and just grab girls when we want them. But, no, you're right. And the funny thing is, you're the first person I've ever admitted this to. I thought I'd be ashamed, and I suddenly find there's nothing in the world to be ashamed of."
"Of course not. Gimme another kiss."
This one was much better, and Lightbulb felt the warmth of the kiss, the warmth of her whole personality flow from her into him.
She drew back and looked at him. "You're quite some guy." Her hand now rested on his, and she said, "Your hand is cold."
"Really? Yeah, I guess it is."
"We'll fix that." She slipped his hand up under the sweater and clasped it in her armpit. She shivered. "Oooh, that's cold, so it must be warm for you."
"Gosh, yeah it is."
"And your other hand?" She took that in both hands. "Oooh, that's cold too. Into the other armpit with that one." And that hand too was given a nice warm resting place.
In the meantime, the sweater was necessarily pulled up to her waist, or rather, above her waist, and all Lightbulb could see in the room was that long expanse of white legs and white torso with that tuft of dark blonde hair. Then, looking into her eyes, he saw her look back at him boldly, unashamedly.
"You're not afraid, are you?" he asked.
She smiled. "Maybe it's you who should be afraid of me."
Lightbulb smiled right back. "Maybe. But I don't mean only that you're not afraid of what I might do to you. You're right, I certainly wouldn't do you any harm. But I mean, you don't seem to be afraid in any way-you're not afraid of what people will say; you're not afraid of what I might say or what I might think; you're not afraid of nakedness."
"Should I be?"
"Well, it's a funny thing. A week ago, I would have said, 'Yes, you should be. People will talk about you, and I might not think you are a nice girl.' But now it all seems so natural and wonderful that I want to say, 'No, no, never be afraid'. "
Now her eyes and lips glistened so in the moonlight that she looked radiantly beautiful, and for the first time, Lightbulb pulled her to him for a kiss. It was not a sizzling kiss, but it was a warm one, full of all the
-warmth that an Earth Goddess would have, and she seemed to be pulling him toward her, enveloping him with her arms, with her lips, and he felt his head go in a spin, and funny stars and spirals danced before his eyes.
When they parted, they looked at each other for a moment, and Lightbulb wanted to say, "Veronica, I love you," but he feared it would sound corny.
She was the one who spoke first. "Here, take this off," she said, unbuttoning his shirt. "I want to see what sort of physique you have." And when he proved to have a T-shirt, she said, "And this too." When that was gone, she sat for a moment, looking at his lean, muscular chest. Not an ounce of excess weight on it. "And these too." she said, leaning over and untying his shoes. "And your socks. And while you're at it, your trousers."
Soon he was sitting there in his shorts, grinning at her. "Are you cold?' she asked. "A little."
"Well, we'll just have to keep each other warm. And while we're at it, you might as well get rid of these." She pulled down on his shorts. While he was completing that task, she flipped off the sweater, and they both sat there in the altogether.
Then they reached out to touch each other, tentatively at first, perhaps just to see if the other was really there, and then with the full hand, both hands, rubbing squeezing, touching, exploring, pulling each other ever closer until they seemed one body of intermingled arms and legs.
Veronica pulled back. "Are you cold now?"
Lightbulb laughed. "Gosh no." Now as he looked into her face, radiant with the light in her eyes and with that inviting smile, he felt positively exhilarated.
"Veronica, you are absolutely the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."
"And what will you say of me tomorrow, my lover boy?"
"I will say then, and again and again, that you are absolutely the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."
Veronica took his head in both her hands, and gave him a kiss that sent the blood coursing, that seemed to wipe out the reality of two bodies, and merge his into hers. When he came up for air, they were lying down and he was on top.
"Come to me, my lover boy," she whispered.
"Veronica, I'm scared."
"You needn't be. It will all be very beautiful."
"But I don't know what to do."
"Give me a kiss."
She held him with that kiss, and he felt himself becoming part of her, his pecker being absorbed by her pussy; then they were completely interlocked. Still, she was so beautiful, and seemed so unafraid that he wanted to tell her how much he loved her. Then suddenly he felt an intense explosion of good feeling fill every vein in his body and lift him to a delight he had not before been able to imagine. Then he collapsed.
After taking a few minutes to come back to himself, he asked, "Was I too soon?"
She smiled, kissed him and said, "It's all right. There'll be other times." Then she added with a twinkle in her eyes, "If you still think I'm beautiful tomorrow."
"Oh, I will, I will," he protested innocently until she sealed his mouth with a kiss.
"There're a couple of blankets over there," Veronica said. "Would you get them? Otherwise we'll get too cold."
Then when Lightbulb had arranged the blankets, they snuggled underneath and fell asleep in each other's arms.
In the guest room, Susan and Charlie were having their troubles. Susan had led Charlie there. Now, Charlie was a tall, rangy end who had caught three touchdown passes, and it seemed fitting that the tall, lanky Susan should latch onto him, and at first everything went swimmingly.
Susan, who was studying dancing, did a private dance for Charlie, twisting her lithe body into all sorts of contortions, with her hands high above her head, she seemed to have an ethereal slimness, seemed particularly beautiful, particularly suited to give delight. With that slim waist, the smallish, but plump and nicely shaped breasts, those long, slender legs, Charlie found her a more beautiful sight than any he had ever seen before.
Then she pulled him up and said, "Come, dance with me. Don't you hear that music? It's in your head."
Charlie was perfectly willing to hear music in his head. But they had only danced a few steps when Susan said, "Take this bulky thing off," and pulled his cardigan off. Then she started unbuttoning his shirt and said, "This too," and pulled his T-shirt over his head. Then, when he was bare above the waist, she flipped off her top apron and pressed herself against him.
"Isn't that better?"
"Yeah!" Charlie choked out. Now his breath came short, and he was so conscious of this girl pressed against him that he could no longer imagine music, and his feet only shuffled along.
Susan had still further ideas for him. "Take off your shoes and socks and feel the cushy rug," she said.
Charlie did so, and gave an exclamation of delight.
"And now these," Susan said, tugging at his trou-sers. But when Charlie had undone them, Susan hooked her hands inside and pulled on his shorts too, so that there was a brief tug of war until Charlie gave in, and there he stood, tall, sturdy, erect. Susan turned her side to him and said, "Untie me."
"Untie?" Charlie asked. There was no reason for him to be in doubt. It was the last remaining garment between them, and he might have known he hadn't misunderstood.
"Yes," Susan said softly.
So Charlie did as directed, and the little apron fell to the floor. They stood like Adam and Eve. Then Susan pressed herself against him.
"Hold me tight," she whispered. "Run your hands over me, make me warm, feel me, touch me, make my blood flow, ah, ah, yes, that's right, how good, how wonderful," she exulted as Charlie ran his hands over her back, over her butt, then up over her belly and breasts. His hands were surprisingly soft and gentle, for all their roughness on the gridiron.
Susan breathed softly in his ear and said, "Sweep me off my feet, pick me up, carry me to bed, make love to me, enjoy me, exult in me." Before she could even finish her sentence, Charlie had picked her up and was letting her down gently on the bed. In a jiffy, they were between the sheets, and then trouble-Charlie wilted.
He couldn't understand what had happened, and tried to will his potency back into existence. "Damn!" he expostulated. "It was just there!"
"Easy," Susan cautioned. "Just take it easy, Charlie."
"But I don't understand. It was just there." And now he began to get frantic, rubbing against her roughly grabbing at her breasts.
"Charlie!" Susan said sharply, in a no-nonsense tone. She had to stop his growing frenzy before it went any further, and if he hadn't listened to her,, she would have gotten up and run away.
But he stopped and looked at her, wondering what she was going to say.
She said, "Just relax, Charlie. There's no hurry."
"But I'm afraid you're going to laugh at me. There's no reason for this."
Now that he was the gentle Charlie again, she could speak softly. She made him lie back on the bed and loosen the tension in his muscles. "Just relax, like I told you. I'm not going to laugh at you. This happens. We've got all night, and if we don't make it tonight, we have next weekend. Nobody's going to know about this but you and me. I'm not going to tell anybody."
Now Charlie was relaxed to the point of having a big grin on his face. "Well, gee whiz. I always thought ... a girl would laugh at a guy."
"No. At least not a girl with any consideration at all. Now, I want you to tell me about yourself, what you want to do with your life, everything."
"Well ... "
They sat up in bed, the sheet pulled up to Susan's neck, while Charlie spoke of the future as he saw it, then of past incidents in his life, his family, funny things that had happened to him, the farm he grew up on.
Susan, in the meantime, was bouncing around, sometimes pressing her breasts against the side of his chest, sometimes running a hand lightly over him, and one time, when he rested a hand on her thigh, she pressed her scrub-brush up against that hand.
Then she turned away from him and said, "Rub my back. I just love to have my back rubbed."
"Sure."
"Ah, you have nice hands," she said as Charlie moved his hands from her shoulders down over the soft skin. Susan knew the value of the gradual, of sort of sneaking up on their problem. Now she said, "A little more to the side, both sides," and then, "Still more."
Gradually Charlie's fingertips felt the soft flesh of her breasts each time he moved his hands up and down the relatively hard surface of the rib cage. And though he could have put his hands full on her breasts if he had so chosen, this hint of soft womanliness, this self-teasing, made his fingers tingle, then made his whole body tingle.
Susan locked her hands on top of her head and waited, relaxed. Charlie's fingers were coming around more and more, until now they ran lightly over the rounded surfaces every time his hands came up, and then even lingered there a while. Then he cupped her breasts fully, buried his face in her neck and said, "Oh, God! Oh, God!"
Susan turned and lay back. He fell on her and went into her.
They were two beautiful bodies, each giving the other joy as they received it in turn. Two rhythmic, loving bodies, filled with the joy of life, of giving, of enjoying, of exulting, of being carried up to the heights of ecstasy.
Slowly they came back to earth, disentangled, and lay side by side, quietly.
"What are you thinking?" Susan asked after awhile.
"That you're marvelous," Charlie said. "That you're absolutely marvelous."
.Susan was sitting further up in bed, so when Charlie pressed against her, his head rested on her left breast. And now, like a baby that has had its fill and wants its sleep, Charlie fell asleep on Susan, his head resting on her breast. And Susan was perfectly happy sitting there, letting him sleep, looking at that big body that she had so recently thrilled with the touch of ecstasy, the body that was so rugged and fearful on the gridiron and now looked so gentle, so easy to handle.
6
SUSAN STOPPED SHORT, HER EYES POPPING, and an involuntary "Oh!" escaped from her throat. Then she spilled her books onto the leaf-strewn ground.
A tall, thin lad was walking past right then and said, "Here, let me help you."
"Well ... if you're not in a hurry."
"No hurry. Here, now. Cross your arms. We'll put your notebook first, then this, then this ... "
So Susan crossed her arms in front of her breasts while the boy piled the books on. And every time he put a book there, she would pull her arms toward her, bringing his fingers lightly against her boobs. The boy would jerk his hand away as if he had touched a hot potato.
Maybe Susan should have stood instead of kneeling while the boy piled on the books, maybe not. But at any rate, when the books were in place and she went to stand, her arms uncrossed somehow, and all the books came tumbling down again.
"Oh, how stupid of me! Now I bet you really are in a hurry, and could kill me."
"No hurry, really. Look, where are you going?"
"Over to Palmerston House."
"Well, why don't you let me carry half the books and you carry the other half, and that way I think we'll manage."
"Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"
"Mind! No, I'd ... I'd like to ... really. There's nothing to mind."
Jeffrey had almost said he'd like to prolong this visit between them, and he wasn't quite sure why that almost slipped out. Little did he know that Susan had been actively looking for him ever since school had started.
It was a small university, with not more than a thousand students, so it was not difficult to get acquainted with a good part of the student body. But sometimes it happened that good friends would go six months without once seeing each other on campus, their schedules arranged in such a way that one was always over here when the other was over there.
Such seemed to be the case between Susan and Jeffrey, for school had been in session for a month now, and Susan had been on the lookout every day for the bashful but curiously unashamed boy who had frolicked in the pool with her last spring. She had just about given up, thinking he had not come to MacIntosh U., for after all, he was not a football player and tennis season was way off, so the student body had not heard of him yet.
So when Susan did see him, the "Oh!" just slipped out, so surprised was she. She was later even more surprised to realize that she had handled the situation just right, that she hadn't lost her head or stood paralyzed, but had done just what it took. For it worked, and by the time they had parted, Jeffrey (who didn't recognize Susan, not having been looking much at faces that previous spring, though she did look vaguely familiar) had asked if he could see her again, and they'd made a date for the movies on the next Saturday night.
For Jeffrey, that was the date of all dates. Since neither Jeffrey nor Susan was totally innocent of the ways of the opposite sex, it was conceivable that she could have taken him straight to a motel and given him a more intense pleasure than that of hand-holding at a movie house. But it is doubtful that the evening would have been more important to him.
There was something almost ethereal, almost spiritual in Susan's light touch, her hand curled in his, her breath in his ear when she whispered to him. He had never known a girl-excluding Miss Jellicoe, and she was hardly in his age group-he had never known a girl who had such a warm, inviting, delicate touch.
When they held hands in the movie, she didn't push his hand to one side, or put it on top of a pocketbook or folded-up coat, as so many frightened girls he knew had done back in high school. His hand rested nicely between her thighs, and he could feel the warmth of her flesh through the thin cotton dress. Then, when she bent over to fix her shoe, her left titty rested on the hand that lay on her thigh, and Jeffrey thought he would rise through the ceiling-or that a certain part of him would. v He could not have been happier if she had been naked and he had been free to run his hands over her at will. It was a delightful moment in itself, and he Closed his eyes and swallowed hard, wishing she would stop it, would come back up, it was just too much for him, and when she did, he breathed a sigh of relief-and of disappointment. He could not have stood up then if the world had been on fire.
For the remainder of the movie, she pulled his hand up closer to her and held it with a warm hand of her own-held it, indeed, against her crotch, and Jeffrey's eyes boggled in surprise, and he almost shouted involuntarily. She held it so warmly and snugly there that he thought he could feel-but no, even if the dress was thin, there were still undergarments, and it would be impossible to feel anything like what he first thought he'd felt through three layers of clothing.
Afterward, they had a sundae at the local ice cream parlor, then took a leisurely walk through the campus, scuffling through the dry leaves on the paths and sidewalks. It was a still night, and they would have thought they were the only ones out if they had relied on their ears alone. But every once in a while, they would come across a couple humping it in the bushes, and Jeffrey wondered if some night after a movie he might be able to do that with Susan. But he was happy, whatever else would or wouldn't happen that night. Indeed, he could hardly have been happier. And Susan, had she known how happy he was, might well have congratulated herself for finding just the right pitch of teasing, just the right balance between holding him off virginally and going too far too soon, which might make him think this was not a "nice" girl. For Jeffrey most certainly did think of her as a "nice" girl, and that was one reason why her slight little nudges and ethereal touches were all the more exhilarating to him.
Then, as they stood at her door, Jeffrey shifted from foot to foot, wondering if he dare take hold of her for one good-night kiss. It had never quite got across to him that if a girl like him, she would be wanting him to, and now, as friendly as Susan had been that night, he stood there wondering if she'd mind if he kissed her.
But Susan's instinct was again just right. She didn't pull him to her aggressively, but just stood close to him, ever so close, with her face uplifted. And Jeffrey, looking down at this beautiful upturned face, had hardly to move his head before their lips met, and that wasn't so difficult for him. It was a light, gentle kiss. It didn't last long, they didn't press hard against each other and flick their tongues out. It was just a kiss of soft lips gently touching and lasting for no more than a few seconds. But Jeffrey tingled down to the tips of his toes, and it would be a long time before another kiss would make him tingle in quite that manner.
Jeffrey didn't remember how he got home that night. He truly didn't remember coming home, nor taking off his clothes and getting in bed. He only knew he woke up that next morning with a general feeling of good will and love for everybody in the world. The earth was positively beautiful.
Miss Jellicoe had told Jeffrey to look her up when he came back to the school. Now, after hemming and hawing about, Jeffrey screwed up his courage, and though he was shaking inside and his heart was beating furiously, he presented what he thought was a rather calm exterior to the girls' physical education department secretary and asked if he could see Miss Jellicoe.
"What did you want to see her about?" the girl asked-was it suspiciously? Jeffrey wondered.
"About my sister." Jeffrey had been intending to say it was none of her business in so many words, but the idea about a sister came to him even as he was talking, and after all, it would be less compromising for Miss
Jellicoe.
In a minute, he-was standing before his one-time paramour, who looked at him with a cold eye-until the door closed behind him. Then there was a sudden change in her, almost a metamorphosis. The coldness in her eyes melted into warmth with a twinkle; the thin, grim lips softened into fullness and a smile. She got up and came to him.
"My lover boy," she said softly. "You came back."
Jeffrey hung his head. "Sure. But I was scared."
"Why were you scared?"
"Oh, I don't know. I thought the secretary would suspect something, or that ... well, I was mostly scared that you'd look at me with a blank eye and say, "What the hell do you want?"
"Oh, you poor dear." She put her hands on his head and drew it toward her and gave him a kiss that made him dizzy, though she had only meant it as a kiss of affection. "A woman doesn't easily forget the men who are kind to her. And don't you think I've thought of you every day, wondering where you were, and if you'd show up?"
"Gosh, I hadn't thought so."
"Yes, my lover boy," she whispered. She pulled his head down to kiss again, only this time she threw her whole body against his, and he could feel the pressure of her breasts and the little knobs on the tips of them and above all the warmth, nay, the heat that emanated from her body. He felt himself grow weak inside, and all his strength seemed to concentrate in one part that was growing strong and sturdy, and he backed away.
"Now I want you to come over to my place. I have a whole evening planned for you. Will you."
"Sure, if you want me to."
"If I want you to! Oh, you dear." And she gave him another kiss. Then she wrote her address on a piece of paper and said, "Tonight? At seven?"
"Sure. Seven o'clock. I'll be there."
Jeffrey started to walk out with a big grin on his face, suddenly remembered the secretary, composed himself and strode forth stoically.
That evening, promptly at seven, Jeffrey punched her doorbell and was admitted by a beaming Jane Jellicoe. There was an air of lightness in the room. There was a soft, pleasant smell that seemed to lift Jeffrey a few inches off the floor. There were candles burning on the table, which was set with gleaming white plates against a brown tablecloth, and in the fireplace was a fire as a buffer against the chill of the evening.
But above all, there was Miss Jellicoe herself, looking radiantly beautiful, and younger than Jeffrey had known her to look, and dressed completely in white. She looked something like an angel floating about the room. Her scoop-necked dress showed the bare upper fullness of her breasts when she stood. When she bent over, or when she walked, it was clear that she didn't have a thing on under it, at least not above the waist.
Jeffrey sat at the head of the table, and his hostess made him feel like a man-like the head of the house for the first time in his life-as she bustled about, getting him a pitcher of milk, dishing out his main course while leaning over right before him. Jeffrey feasted his eyes on the magnificent sight, the roundness of those beautiful breasts visible down almost to the nipples, now swaying slightly as she moved, now joggling a little, and all the time he had only to sit there and feast. He had seen low-necked dresses before, and like most boys, he had taken his peeks, but always with awareness that he must look to see if the girls were looking at him, and sometimes finding that they were looking at him disgustedly for his voyeurism, .or so he thought.
But with Miss Jellicoe there was no such problem. She had her head bent over the serving dish, and Jeffrey had only to sit there and enjoy himself, breathing deeply from time to time with happiness. If he had been conscious of the passage of time, he would have noticed that she remained there long enough to serve ten people, and he would have been puzzled, for it would not have occurred to him that she wanted him to look. But he was not conscious of the passage of time. He was conscious only that he was very, very happy.
Then, when she went to the kitchen and returned, her breasts sloshing lightly under the silken white material, Jeffrey wanted to laugh out loud, not because there was anything funny, but for the sheer joy of living.
Afterward, they sat by the fireplace and had spiced cider and whole wheat doughnuts that Miss Jellicoe had made herself. While he was sitting there on the floor and she was standing she suddenly said, "What's that on your head?" And she promptly bent over him.
Now she was bending over twice as far as before, and had inadvertently brought her neckline right down, to his eyes, or at least he thought it was inadvertent. He found to his surprise that he could see to her waist, even beyond, even to the patch; she wasn't wearing anything under that dress at all! It was all very lovely to Jeffrey, an ethereal nakedness that he could look at without shame or guilt, without even wondering if she was looking at him disgustedly, for she could not see his eyes-and he need not even turn his head.
After they had finished their cider and doughnuts, they sat before the fire, Jeffrey with his back propped against a chair, Miss Jellicoe with her back against him. She brought one of his arms around against her belly, and her left breast rested lightly on his left bicep, and then she took his right arm and brought it around, accidentally joggling her breast with his hand, and then she placed that arm, too, on her belly.
Whether or not it was because he knew she had nothing under that dress, Jeffrey wasn't sure, but he did know that her body felt exceptionally warm that night, and he ran his hands back and forth across her belly, feeling her left breast run along his wrist. The first time he had seen her, she had taken her clothes off without a by-your-leave, and it was a wonderful time for Jeffrey, to have a woman want him so unashamedly and guiltlessly. But this also was wonderful, this teasing without harmful intent, this slow, unhurried movement toward the ultimate in enjoyment. Occasionally, even often, Miss Jellicoe would change position, and her knockers would joggle against his hands or his wrist, or she would move his hands, and he would feel new areas of warm flesh. This also was wonderful, perhaps even more wonderful.
Once she reached back and accidentally touched him where he was most sensitive, and he let out a loud "Oh!".
"Did I hurt you?" she asked in fright.
"No," Jeffrey smiled. "Not at all."
"Here, you've got so many clothes on, lean hardly get close to you," the hostess said. "Takeoff this sweater."
When Jeffrey did that, she started unbuttoning his shirt, and said, "Take this off too," and when he had done so, she said, "A T-shirt, yet. Well, take that off too. I want to touch you."
The fire was warm, and Jeffrey wasn't in a mood-to argue, so at last he was as she wanted him. Now, instead of leaning against him, she nestled against his side and ran her fingertips lightly over his skin. It was almost too much for Jeffrey, with her soft, warm, unrestricted breast pressed against his side; with her dress now more than halfway up her thighs; and now with the light, soft touch of her fingertips making his skin tingle. He felt he was going into a swoon, a delightful, cushy swoon, like falling into a giant vat of malted milk.
A bed has certain advantages for making love. It has springs, and will give when a body presses down on it. It will give when one bounces-or when two bounce. A floor will not give, but offers only a hard, unyielding surface. And yet-there are ways and ways for two people to find enjoyment with each other, and if they do the world no harm, why, who would presume to say their way is wrong and should be forbidden?
A floor may be unyielding, but if it is covered with a soft, cushy rug, if the room is filled with the aroma of perfume, if all the electric lights are out, and the only light comes from two candles burning low and a fire burning vigorously in the fireplace, and moreover, if this is where two lovers first find themselves naked, and neither feels inclined to speak, to break the spell, to say let's get up and go in the other room, why, who would presume to say they were foolish for making love there on the cushy rug, right before the fire, two interlocked and delightful bodies, rolling over and over, laughing softly, sighing, whispering, biting, kissing and above all, thoroughly enjoying the wonder of each other's bodies. Who?
7
IT WAS THE MORNING BEFORE THE BIGGEST game of the season, the one with Haversham College, the arch rival of MacIntosh U. for nigh onto fifty years--indeed, the oldest uninterrupted rivalry in the southwest portion of the state between a university and a college. And MacIntosh U. was riding a crest.
Nine straight games they had taken, nine straight victories, not only causing a lot of talk in the area, but provoking attention outside the state-indeed, provoking national attention. Nine straight games, and the team was fired with confidence, enthusiasm, and the will to win.
The only fly in the ointment was that Haversham College was also riding a crest of nine straight victories, and that team was also fired with confidence, enthusiasm and the will to win. So it promised to be the game of the century for both schools.
The girls were given instructions to get the boys particularly keyed up for this game, on this, the last day of their service-unless they cared to carry their exemplary and admirable school spirit over to the basketball team.
(Bradley wanted to express his appreciation to the girls, and didn't quite know how to do it. He knew he couldn't write a letter to the school paper, explaining the particular contribution of these girls. The trustees just wouldn't understand. He finally decided he would have to settle for a scroll praising them for a contribution above and beyond the call of ordinary school spirit.)
And this being a particularly important game, the girls had decided to change their tactics. Instead of getting the boys keyed up on Friday night, with the ever-present danger, that one would be too keyed up to sleep, they decided to hold off until Saturday morning just before practice, then get the boys keyed up to a fever pitch of excitement so they would tear through the opposing team that night.
So on Friday night, the boys were told to go to bed early. To make sure that they didn't feel too lonely, the girls sneaked into the athletic dorm and soothed the anxious players, wiped their brows if they were sweating, held their hands, gave them a few kisses, and stayed with them until they relaxed and fell into deep slumber. Then the girls tiptoed away.
The next morning, the boys gulped their breakfasts down with big grins on their faces. It wasn't the game they were looking forward to right them. It was the preliminaries. Then, along about ten, they drifted singly or in pairs, so as not to invite attention-over to the Student Union.
The girls were waiting for them, and when the boys were ensconced in the chairs on their side of the room, Susan came out from behind the sheet and announced the rules.
"Okay, now, we're going to have a contest, and the boy with the most points gets first choice tonight. First we're going to come out in costume, and you have to guess who we represent. Five points for that. I mean, the first-one to guess does. Then we're going to blindfold you, and you're got to guess who we are just by using your hands. You get ten points for every girl you guess right. Then you've got to put your hands behind your back and try to guess who we are without either looking or touching-at least not with your hands, okay?"
The boys yelled and whistled their agreement and shouted, "Let's go! We're ready!"
Susan went behind the sheet and slipped off her dress, and the girls were all ready.
First, out come Veronica-wearing only a fig leaf, it was a new departure for the girls. They had previously come out more or less fully clothed and had found one way or another to remove their clothing. But now Veronica came striding forth, those magnificent breasts joggling and schloggling as she walked, that magnificent body looming over the boys like the Earth Goddess she always seemed to be. They were so taken with the view that they forgot to answer anything.
After she had paraded back and forth a few times, she said, "Well, who am I?"
"Eve!" they all shouted as one voice.
"Okay, you all get five points for that. Next!" she yelled to the girls behind the sheet.
Susan came out now, wearing a white sash around her hips. It came low down around her hips, and a loose end hung over her tizzy-mizzy. "Who am I?" she asked the boys as she paraded that slim, lithe body before them-the long, lean legs, the smallish breasts that were curiously plump, the pert nipples seeming to point right at a person when she faced someone. And the boys sat there quiet, partly because of the beauty of that slender body, partly because they were genuinely stumped.
Susan stood still now, her interlocked hands resting on her head, her body turned slightly. "Come on boys. Can't you make a guess?"
Lightbulb scratched his head and yelled out, "A Greek statue!"
"You're getting warm," Susan said.
"A Greek woman!" Charlie yelled.
"Well, I'm obviously not a man."
"Helen of Troy!" Lightbulb yelled, and he was the first to surge ahead in points.
Marsha came out wearing a deerskin fringe that fit around her hips in much the same way that Susan's sash did, and when she did a pirouette, the fringe twirled up.
"An Indian!" somebody yelled.
"More specific," she demanded.
"Hiawatha!" Charlie yelled, and he moved into a tie with Lightbulb.
Barbara came out wearing the figure of a snake curling around a pyramid-in the same place where Veronica wore her fig leaf-and one boy who knew his history yelled out Cleopatra.
The Helen finished off with a ruffle such as the Elizabethans wore around their necks-only Helen wore the ruffle somewhat lower down, being as it was all she was wearing. She was finally identified as the first Queen Elizabeth.
They were an enchanting sight, the five of them, with their nubile young bodies all covered at just that same point by their various costumes, their waists and legs tapering differently, their boobies of different sizes and configurations, of different heights above the floor, and yet all of it was so delightfully wonderful.
"All right, blindfolds!" Veronica yelled. "And you guys can't touch us where our costumes are, because that would make it too easy."
There were a few grumbles and good-natured complaints as the girls each took a blindfold and began to blindfold the players. Some of them jumped the gun, reached behind them and ran their fingers along the girls' legs.
"No fair!" Susan squealed, squirming in delight, for she was especially ticklish to fingers drawn lightly along her legs, but she didn't discourage the fellow too vigorously.
Then they were ready. Roy, a defensive tackle, was the first to be led blindfolded to a girl. They especially wanted to get him keyed up, for he would have to break-into the opposing line and harass the Haversham quarterback. It was Marsha he was given to guess, a plump-breasted girl of slender proportions, and Roy went through all the variations he could think of to prolong the guessing.
First he ran his hand from the bareness of her lower belly over the upper belly to the breasts, then down again slowly and back up. Marsha purred and leaned back against him. Then he ran his fingers lightly over the breasts, ran his fingertips over the nipples, then lifted the breasts-, held them, squeezed them gently, kneaded them, then let them fall back to their natural level. Then he said he couldn't decide and had to go through some of his investigation again. (He especially seemed to like running his fingertips lightly over her nipples.)
Marsha wasn't complaining, but only purring while some of the boys were yelling that it was taking too long. At last Roy guessed Helen, and was truly surprised when the blindfold was removed and he saw how wrong he was.
Since he had taken longer than expected, the girls decided to have the next two boys go at one time, so Charlie was given Veronica and Lightbulb was given Susan, a switch in girl friends that everybody thought was eminently fair. Now, Charlie knew he had Veronica after about one second. She was the only girl who had bazooms that size and that high off the floor. So he was hardly in doubt. But like Roy, he didn't see any need to make a hasty guess. Indeed, since Roy had guessed wrong, Charlie felt it only sensible to take his time.
He ran his hands down to her costume, over the smooth skin of her hips, up over the softness of her belly, around just under the breasts, teasing himself, putting off the moment of delight ... and then ... lightly, gently, he ran his hands over those delightful protuberances, just barely touching them with his fingertips and making Veronica give a shiver of delight. He ran his palms over the nipples, then hefted the honeydews, closed his eyes and kissed her on one shoulder.
The thought that Lightbulb was doing much the same thing to his girl hardly entered his mind. Indeed, there was no reason why any such wayward thoughts should have been entering the mind of one so completely happy. But Lightbulb was doing just that-exploring the smooth flesh and body contours of sweet Susan, touching lightly for a moment, then pressing against all the nakedness he could cover with his big hands. He smiled broadly when Susan put her hands over his.
While this was going on, George Wheelock was pacing back and forth in his office. Had he been a happy man with his winning football team, then pacing for fear of their losing this crucial game would have been understandable. But he was pacing more for fear that they would win. One loss would have made the wonder of this Cinderella team a little easier to take. But if they won?
How would he explain it to the regents? How could a coach go from not winning a game to not losing a game so quickly? It looked suspicious enough already, not only to the regents, but to the townsfolk and to other schools. A good, resounding defeat would alleviate their suspicions somewhat-but how would he alleviate his own suspicions?
He had gone over the books twice. There didn't seem to be a way in the world for Bradley to be subsidizing these boys from the school coffers, and certainly he didn't nave the money to do it on his own. Still, there was something funny about it all, or at least, so he felt.
He paused before his huge window to look out over the campus. Straight before him was the Student Union, to the left was the Science Building, and over the tops of some trees, he could see the stadium where that afternoon's game would be played.
Something seemed out of place in the scene before him. He didn't know what it was, but something disturbed him a little. It was as if a building had been moved ten feet to the left or to the right, or a tree had been removed or planted full-grown since he last looked. He consciously ticked off the landmarks that should have been there, and everything seemed in place.
He walked away from his window to resume his meditations, but somehow, something drew him back. There was something ... And then he had it! The drapes on the second floor of the Student Union were all closed!
Now, this wasn't such a terrible thing, and certainly it didn't occur to him that there was any real significance in it. But he was used to looking into the student lounge from his third-floor office, watching the students come and go, chatting, playing chess, an occasional couple nuzzling each other when the lounge was nearly empty and they thought they were unobserved. He took a proprietary interest in them, and now he was-shut out.
Well, he thought, since his mind wouldn't settle down enough for him to do any work anyway, he might as well wander over there and at least open up the drapes on this brisk autumn morning.
The boys, still blindfolded, now had their hands tied behind their backs. They were to determine by kissing and nuzzling who the girls were and this would be a crucial guess, since nobody was really ahead.
Charlie was the first, and Helen with the ruffle around her hips and loins was the girl silently chosen for him to guess. First his lips hit her shoulder, and from that point, by instinct, he found her lips, and gave her a good kiss.
"Ah, delightful!" he said. From there, he kissed on down to her breasts and nuzzled his face between them, first against one, then against the other.
It was at this point that the door was unlocked, Wheelock took two steps in, and froze. He was dumbfounded to the point of speechlessness, and so were the girls. For more than a minute, they stood there, open-mouthed, slack-jawed, looking at each other,, unable to utter a word. The boys, all blindfolded of course, could feel a tension in the room, and they began to shift uneasily. All except, Charlie, of course.
He was too intent on his business to have noticed a change in the atmosphere of the room. Now he ran his lips softly over Helen's breasts. "Ah, smooth skin!" he rhapsodized. "Soft, smooth, beautiful skin!" Then he put his cheek under her breast, lifted it a little, felt its contour by running his cheek around lightly. "Mmmmm. Pear-shaped. I'd say. Now that could be Susan or Marsha or Helen. Let me see." He nuzzled his head between her breasts again.
Suddenly Helen came to life and yanked off his blindfold. Charlie took one look at the frozen figure of the president-and fainted dead away. The girls were now prompted to action, and ran behind the sheet.
"Take off your blindfolds, boys," Susan yelled out. "We've got a real surprise for you."
The boys did as they were told, and though none followed Charlie's example, they were almost as astounded, and all felt a little queasy. Wheelock, in the meantime, recovered, at least enough to close the door behind him and come on into the room. But for some time, all he could do was say, "Well, well!" over and over again. He, too, felt a little queasy inside, and could only grab a chair and. sit down weakly. Then he said, "Well! Well!"
The girls, in the meantime, were dressing, taking their time about it, for they feared going back out there and facing Wheelock's wrath, or at least his reproval. Veronica, however, was long gone. She had donned her one-piece shift and climbed out a window, then ran along the ledge and jumped in through another window. She had to warn Bradley that the jig was up.
Bradley sat in the faculty dining room with Jane Jellicoe, Murph and Big Ben, He'd had a hearty breakfast, and now he sat back with a cigar. He felt happy, satisfied, pleased, and barely listened to the conversation of his three colleagues. His boys were keyed up for this game, were indeed being keyed up right then, and there was no real reason why they shouldn't win. Of course, it was always possible that the other team would prove to be the better one. The MacIntosh U. boys weren't supermen, after all. They were just healthy boys being keyed up in a good, healthy way. And if they lost, well, there would be time enough for sorrow after the game. For the moment, he was too happy to have any worries.
Suddenly he sat bolt upright. He was facing the entrance, and Veronica came striding through. Just-about every part of her body jiggling under that tight shift. He was, first, a little surprised that she would walk around without a thing under her dress, considering all the lechers around campus; secondly, a little disturbed at her coming right into the faculty dining room; and most of all, alarmed by the look on her face.
"What is it?" he asked under his breath, hardly aware that he was speaking. Then he got up to intercept her, for his colleagues knew nothing about the game he was playing. "What's up?" he asked, stopping her abruptly and feeling a little sick already.
"It's all over." Distractedly, she ran a hand through her hair. "Wheelock walked in on us. He's there now."
Now Bradley did feel sick, and his stomach seemed to be turning over and over. "You'll have to give me a little time to digest this. No, it just can't be true."
"I wish it weren't. We're all dead ducks."
Bradley pulled out a chair and sat down. Veronica sat beside him. "How did it happen?" he asked weakly.
"Who knows? The door opened, and there he was."
"Didn't you lock it?"
"Sure. I guess he has a key."
"Yes, of course he would."
Bradley swallowed hard and tried to look brave. "Well, of course there are other ways of making a living. Veronica, let's get married and sail the blue Pacific."
Before she could answer, Miss Jellicoe came up. "You're in trouble," she said simply.
"Who, me?" Bradley asked, looking surprised. "I don't know what you mean."
"Now, don't treat me like a child. I know what's been going on."
"What's been going on!" Bradley repeated innocently. "I don't know what you mean."
"All right, enough's enough," Miss Jellicoe persisted. "I know why the team's been winning, and I know Veronica wouldn't be here if something hadn't gone wrong. So let me have it."
. "You knew all this time?"
"Of course."
"And you didn't tell anyone?"
"Why should I? Now tell me what's up."
"The worst. Wheelock walked in on them. The girls were dressed-how, Veronica?"
"Just barely. One garment apiece, below the waist."
Miss Jellicoe decided she would have to take charge. "Where is everybody now, Veronica?"
"I guess they'll still up in the lounge. They were there five minutes ago."
"Did any of the other girls get away?"
"No, I was the only one."
"Hmmm." She looked at her watch. "Okay, now it's almost eleven o'clock. We don't have much time, and we've got only one girl, so Veronica, I think the major burden is going to fall on you. Do you think you're up to it?"
"Sure. You just tell me what you've got in mind."
"Now, we're going to have to start with assumption that Wheelock-likes young girls, though he's never given us any proof of it. Do you have a dress with a nice low neckline, down to about here?" Miss Jellicoe drew her finger across Veronica's boobs, just barely above the nipples.
"No, I never did go in for that type."
"Well, we'll have to use what you've got and a pair of scissors. I'll buy you a new dress, the snazzist one you can find. Come on, we'll go to my office."
Bradley tagged along, feeling something like a fifth wheel now, but relieved that something was being done.
Meanwhile, as Wheelock was trying to recover his senses, the girls were reluctantly getting dressed, Charlie had recovered from his faint, and the other boys sat with chattering teeth. The whole gang was still in the room where Veronica had left them.
Now at last they were assembled before Wheelock, and' it was hard to tell whether the girls or the boys looked more submissive and ready for chastisement.
"Well, what have you people to say for yourselves?" he asked. He might as well not have asked it, for he had no sooner got the question out than the door opened and Veronica sailed into the room.
She was wearing the same dress-only now the neckline had been scooped out so that her breasts not only jiggled enticingly as she walked, but they were enticingly visible. Wheelock sat transfixed.
He was basically a normal man who found beautiful girls exceedingly alluring. But somewhere back in childhood or adolescence, his instincts had been repressed and his inhibitions had taken over. He had been taught that intellectual achievement was more important than going out with girls, and he'd believed it. Still worse, he'd been taught that there was something not quite nice about making out with girls, and that the right girl would somehow come along one day, and he'd believed that, too.
The result was that he had learned many things, but nothing about girls and moving in on them. He had thus reached his 40th birthday without the pleasure of having plumbed a poon-pipe. Still ... he did like girls, and now as Veronica came walking in, bouncing her boob flesh as if it-were the most natural thing in the world, he sat entranced.
It was, to him, a far more wonderful sight than when he had walked in on the five scantily clad girls. Indeed, that had momentarily been a very beautiful sight, but he had come as an intruder, and when, moreover, the girls ran upon his appearance, that only intensified his feeling of shame, and he had remained in his role of the stern college .administrator. But Veronica was not running from him. On the contrary, she was walking right toward him. She didn't seem to regard him as an intruder, as a threat, as a terrible man. Indeed, she seemed, if anything, proud of her body, happy to show what she had.
Then, when she stood before him, when she leaned over (for he was sitting and she was standing), and he could see the fullness of those breasts, naked under the dress, he felt that nothing else mattered.
"President Wheelock," Veronica said.
Her voice came through thick wool, or at it least seemed so to Wheelock, who just sat there with a big grin on his face and his eyes glued to her knockers. Seeing she had his eyes, Veronica, without straightening up, gave a nod to the nearest girl, instructing all of the other girls' to leave unobtrusively and go up to Miss Jellicoe's office.
"Eh?" Wheelock finally said in response to Veronica's salutation.
"President Wheelock, I want to ask you something."
Again the voice seemed to come through wet wool. The wheels were slow in clicking into place in his mind, but finally he was able to get out, "Go ahead."
"Will you let the boys go now and get ready for the game?"
"Naughty, naughty," he said vaguely. He didn't know why those words of reprimand from his mother suddenly came forth, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he was resisting the vortex of delight that Veronica represented to him.
"We have tried to make the boys happy," she cooed. "They-like us. We-like them to-like us. Is this naughty?" She swayed her breasts slightly now.
"Naughty, naughty," was all that came to his tongue, as he still sat transfixed.
Helen came in now. She was wearing a tight orange skirt and sweater, and in Miss Jellicoe's office had divested herself of all other garments. Veronica yielded her place to Helen, who knelt on the floor and took on of Wheelock's hands.
"President Wheelock, we were getting the boys rarin'to go out there and play football. Is there anything wrong with it, really ?Anything against it in the rule book?"
"Well, I don't know," he said dubiously.
Helen pressed his hand against her breast-cleavage, and his head, which had begun to clear up, now went into a new spin. He had often longed to touch girls, because he just knew there would be something delightful about it. But he had not known how to do it, he had not really known he could do it, and now that it had happened, he knew he'd always been right-it was delightful.
Suddenly, in a single graceful movement, Helen picked herself up off the floor and sat on his lap, holding his hand against her breasts, only now it was the palm of his hand that touched the flesh-mounds made doubly soft by the softness of her sweater. Wheelock thought she was whispering in his ear and that he could not make out her words; he only knew it made him tingle all over; he didn't know that she was only cooing and purring. And with his hand on her breasts that way and her whispering in his ear that way and her cute little ungirdled rear end bouncing around on his lap, he felt himself growing to a state that could prove to be truly embarrassing, and he wondered if this friendly young girl could detect it.
Veronica, meanwhile, had not been idle. First she got Lightbulb up from the couch and out of the room. He would protest innocently that he was just going to the men's room if Wheelock tried to stop him. But Wheelock didn't even notice the quarterbacks' departure. He was far too involved. So Veronica started sending out two players at a time, then three.
In the meantime, Susan came waltzing in wearing a mini-skirt to end all mini-skirts. It came three-fourths of the way up her thighs. Now, Susan had particularly lovely legs, and furthermore, when she stood with them slightly apart and flashed those legs about, the effect of the short skirt was exceptionally provocative. In addition, she was wearing a tight white blouse that was unbuttoned and tucked into her skirt, so that when she stretched, her nipples showed clearly against the thin cloth, and when she bent over, there was a teasing now-you-see-them-now-you-don't quality. But Susan's main attraction was those long, flashing white legs as she leaped about, each leap making the mini-skirt hike up just a bit more.
By now Veronica had hustled the whole team out of the room, and they hardly needed dark-eyed Barbara, who came in wearing a toga of that material which is like cellophane when held tight against the body, like thick wool when held away. She did her little dance, pulling the toga tight against her from time to time. Then when Helen got off Wheelock's lap, she took Helen's place and pulled his hand up her leg, then down, then up again along the outside, all the way to her hip.
But she'd hardly been needed, and Marsha was told not to bother at all. The players were all gone now, and Wheelock was a cooked goose. Veronica searched in his pocket for his keys-against token resistance and finding the right one, shooed the other girls out of the room.
Wheelock, who'd had only a vague, fuzzy notion that several girls were delightfully flitting about the room, gradually became aware that it was silent. Then he saw the first girl leaning over in front of him, her breasts almost uncovered, almost falling out of that dress, swaying gently, round, full, and exceptionally beautiful, and it was as if he were seeing a replay. Only now there was a difference, for she took his head in her hands and kissed him. He just closed his eyes and enjoyed it.
What subsequently transpired in that room should perhaps not to told. Certainly it would be generally considered a terrible thing for a college president to seduce a student half his age, and if the townsfolk were to hear about it, certainly they would yell for his scalp, and why shouldn't they? For what self-respecting parent would want to send a daughter to such a school?
And yet, if the student knew more about the ways of the world than the president; if, indeed, the student did the seducing; if, indeed, she took off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, and ran her hands over his body; if, indeed, she loosed all his clothing and he felt that there was an unsurpassed beauty in her touch as well as in her body; if, indeed, she wanted him so much that she took off her own clothes without coyly asking him to do it; if, indeed, she pulled him to her and locked herself around him, why, who would say he was to blame? Who would say a daughter was endangered by attending such an institution? Why, it should be obvious that the girls themselves were the danger and it was the president who was daily placed in jeopardy by such students attending his university.
And furthermore, if at the age of 40, the man had never tasted such a delight, if this was due to the repressions imposed on him by a twisted mother, why, who would begrudge him that pleasure? Who would be that narrow? Let angels sing in heaven! Another soul has been saved from a dreary life of inhibition!
Now, as he lay asleep on the couch, covered by two blankets that Veronica had been able to scrounge up, she smoothed the hair back from his forehead and mopped the sweat from his brow with his handkerchief. Such a stern, .father-like figure he had been, and then so boyish in his delight, and now so like a baby sleeping a contented sleep.
A roar went up in the distance, reminding Veronica that it was game time.
It wasn't an easy game the boys played that afternoon. Indeed, it was the toughest of the season. But there was never really any doubt about who would win.
Lightbulb tossed a touchdown pass to Charlie in the first five minutes, and when Haversham got the ball, their line was smashed time and time again. Oh, they had a pretty good team, and held strong from time to time, and even pushed on for a few touchdowns. But MacIntosh U. got a few more, and finished off the game with a 27-12 score. There was wild jubilation in the stands.
That evening, President Bullock of Haversham College toasted the winning team in a reception at President Wheelock's house. "A fine bunch of boys," he said. "A fine bunch of boys. Still, I keep feeling you've got a secret weapon, you old rascal, you," he said to Wheelock. "And I'm trying to figure out what it is."
Wheelock just laughed. "Someday I may let you know," he said good-humoredly.
8
JEFFREY WAS IN HIS ELEMENT WHENEVER HE was out with Susan. He had always been used to girls who pushed him away, or at least held him off, who seemed to have hard bodies and hard voices-or at any rate, that was the way they seemed as he looked back on them on.
Susan was so different in all ways. Her body was soft and warm, and she never pushed him away. Of course, he didn't take advantage of that fact. That would have been ungentlemanly. Still, he had been bold enough to slip his arm around her waist, and it was so sensuously delightful that he was certain her skin was right on the other side of that dress. (It was.) And when she took his arm and settled it a bit higher her breasts rested on his wrist and his head went into a spin.
When they went to the movies, she always pulled his hand up to a warm, snug spot. And to top it all off, he had once-but only once-run his hand fully over one of her breasts-accidentally, at first, but them somewhat deliberately, he admitted that. Of course, he hadn't let his hand linger there. He knew a nice girl wouldn't like that and he could not have stood to hear her say, "Really, Jeffrey!" in a disapproving tone, as a few girls had in high school. So he had just run his hand over and then to her waist. Still, it had been delightful.
And her kisses weren't like any he had known before. In high school, all the girls had given him hard-lipped, thin-lipped, dry, and almost begrudging kisses-unless he counted Harriet, the play girl of the school, whom they had paired him with one evening. But her kisses were so mushy, it was like kissing a sponge, and he finally broke away and ran.
Susan's kisses had that just-right quality about them. Her lips were slightly parted, moist, warm and inviting. But most important of all, she seemed to like to kiss him, didn't seem to offer her kisses as a begrudging payment for the being taken out, didn't break off as soon as was convenient. No, she seemed to like to hold him. Sometimes she would put both hands gently on his face, sometimes she would hold his arms above the elbows, sometimes her arms were tight around him.
Often she tilted her face upward and seemed to ask for a kiss. And occasionally she did ask for a kiss, and those were the best times of all, because Jeffrey felt wanted and he knew he hadn't been too fast with her.
Now they sat in the living room of her sorority house. The housemother didn't stay up very late, because the girls could be trusted to abide by certain unwritten rules-at least, in the house, where they might be interrupted at any moment.
So Jeffrey and Susan sat there silently, happy In each other's company, holding hands. Then Jeffrey ran his free hand across Susan's belly and pulled her toward him, though he didn't have to pull hard. She put her hand up over his cheek, gently past his ear, and rubbed the back of his neck, while their lips met warmly, gently, moistly. Then they parted, looked at each other and kissed again. When they withdrew, her hand fell on his thigh. It was alight hand with so gentle a touch. It was almost as if a butterfly had alighted there.
He liked her hand there, and yet it did seem strange that a nice girl would leave it there. Perhaps she didn't fully realize where it was. And then he had a queasy feeling. A part of him seemed to be growing-trying-straining-to meet that hand, and that could be disastrous. Or would she even know what it was? No, probably not. Still, he wished it wouldn't happen, but the more he tried to wish it down, the more It grew, until ...
It bumped. He expected her to scream and draw her hand away, but she did neither, so he breathed a sigh of relief. She apparently didn't know what it was. But suddenly he could stand it no longer, took up her hand, kissed it, and then kissed her lips, a soft, lingering, loving kiss.
Then he had to back away. If somebody had come in then and he had had to stand, it would have killed him.
"Susan, do you know how I feel when I'm with you?" he asked softly. "I give up."
"I just feel sort of happy all over, you know? Not just in my head, when I'm glad something has happened, or in my heart, but all over. I'm just a-tingle when I sit with you like this."
She moved the few inches toward him that he had moved away and kissed him, then rested her head on his chest, and her arm fell across his lap. "Don't you know, that's just how I feel," she said. "All atingle."
But Jeffrey was feeling uncomfortable again. Her arm was resting right on his throbbing member-indeed, seemed to be pressing a little-and he didn't know what to do. At any minute, she might jump away and call him a dirty old man, and he would be mortified. Still, if he took her arm away, she would think he thought she had deliberately put it there, and it would be like a boy stopping a girl-how ridiculous!
Finally he could stand it no longer, and in despair of anything better to do, he stood up, walked about, went to the record stacks to look at the collection.
"Is something wrong?" Susan asked innocently.
"No," Jeffrey laughed nervously. "Everything is just right. But I think I'd better be going."
She came up to him. "You're not mad at me, are you, Jeffrey?"
He took her arms above the elbows and looked deep into her eyes. "How could I be mad at you who have made me want to sing with life, who have always shown kindness toward me? Oh, God, Susan, if I could only tell you how I feel!"
"And can't you?"
"Someday I will," he promised.
Then he kissed her and held her close and he could feel the little knob of her mound of Venus pushed up against him, and he felt himself growing. There they stood, each thinking the other an innocent that hardly knew what sex was all about, each wondering if the other could feel the insistent genital pressure, neither knowing that the other had a secret lover ...
Charlie was mad-well, not so much mad as he was hurt, and his anger was sort of a cover-up for the hurt. He could feel that Susan had withdrawn from him, and he didn't know why. He thought he had always been good to her. So when he saw her on campus, he stumbled around, then asked her what had happened. She asked if she could come over to his apartment that evening.
Now there she was, sitting on the rug where she liked to sit, and Charlie was pacing back and forth, wanting to ask her why, and yet fearing to ask, fearing to learn that his suspicions were right.
"All right, let me have it," he said bravely, steeling himself for the ordeal.
"Sit down here, Charlie. I can't really talk while you're pacing. But wait! Do you have any candles?"
"Yeah, a few, I guess."
"Let's have candlelight. Then I can talk."
So Charlie bustled about and found two candles and set them on the floor in front of Susan, turned out the electric lights and sat down opposite her.
"You're a football hero, Charlie. Don't you have any other girl friends ? '
"Well, I don't know. Not really."
"Now, what do you mean, not really? Do you or don't you?"
"There are a couple of other girls I've seen a few times. But nobody quite like you, Susan."
"Nobody quite like me. And yet, you have had other girls. Now, why couldn't I have another boy friend?"
"But you're my number one girl, Susan. I've only seen them when you were busy. But ... well, I get the impression I'm not your number one boy friend."
Susan hung her head. He had her there. It had not been exactly tit for tat. She had withdrawn from him because there was one she loved more, and she could not say he had done the same to her. So she had to tell him.
"You're right, Charlie. There is another boy. He's my ... well, number one boy, as you would put it."
"But what have I done wrong?"
"Nothing, Charlie, believe me, nothing. It's only that this boy ... well, he's hit me in a peculiar way. It's something I can't easily explain."
Charlie sat there looking downcast. "Well, gee whiz!" was all he could think to say.
For a while they were silent, looking at the candle flames as if hypnotized. Then Susan broke the silence, saying softly:
"Charlie?"
"Yes, Susan."
"It doesn't have to be the end between us, exactly. You know, you're a good lover."
"Am I!" he yelled enthusiastically. "Yes, haven't I told you before."
"I don't remember."
"And my other boy friend ... well, he doesn't exactly love me that way."
"What is he, crazy?"
"Charlie, don't say anything against him, or I'll bash your head in. Besides, what I'm trying to tell you is that you can still be my lover if you won't ask to be my number one boy friend."
"I can?" His face lit up more than the candles. "You would still want me?"
"Yes, Charlie. Now."
"Now?"
"Yes, Charlie. Carry me away, lift me to the clouds." She stood, and Charlie stood also. "Take off my clothes, Charlie.. Strip me naked, rub me all over and make me feel glad to be alive. My shoes," she directed, holding one foot out.
Charlie knelt, took off one shoe then the other, ran his hands up and unhooked each stocking and rolled them off. He stood and unbuttoned her cardigan and whipped that off. Though excited and in a little bit of a hurry, he was smooth and dexterous, and in a moment her skirt and half-slip had. fallen to the floor.
Her brassiere dropped next, then her panties. She stepped delicately out of them and stood stark naked, wonderfully naked, beautifully naked in the chill night air, and Charlie followed her instructions and rubbed her all over-back, front, belly, breasts, butt, legs, arms-rubbed her, chafed her to warmness, while she tore i at his clothes and got him naked too.
"Lift me, my lover boy," she whispered. "Lift me, carry me to bed like a knight of old with his sword straight before him. Carry me, my lover boy."
By then, he was carrying her, and without putting her down, he grabbed the bedclothes with one hand, pulled them back and laid her gently on the sheets. Then, jumping in beside her, he pulled the blanket over them.
They snuggled together and felt the chilly sheets, warm up from their body heat. Then the air felt warm and cushy, and they felt free to move around, rolling on one another, squishing down in the bed to warm each other's cold feet. Susan pulled Charlie's feet up to her crotch, and though they were cold for her crotch, the crotch was warm for his feet. So then he did the same for her.
Then, thoroughly warmed and glowing, they moved toward each other in a more direct manner, rubbing, squeezing, tugging, touching, exploring, kissing, nuzzling, carrying themselves up higher in excitement, deliberately holding off, teasing themselves until they could stand it no longer. Then Susan drew him to her and took him into her, and they locked bodies and rocked back and forth, slowly at first, savoring the soft pleasure of taking it easy, caressing each other's bodies gently, giving pleasure, taking pleasure, exulting in the joy, moving faster, in a quick back-forth, beat-beat, hot-joy, hot-love, thump-thump, hump-hump, love-lovely....
And they exploded with ecstasy at the same time.
While Susan was lying with Charlie, Jeffrey was similarly occupied with his paramour. Miss Jellicoe, after having heard some suspicion-tinged remarks from her neighbors, thought it might be better to meet her youthful lover at the Student Union and make love in her office, the scene of their first encounter.
First, she said, they would take a shower in the girls' gym. No one would be around at that time, she said; it was after eleven o'clock. Besides, she got a kick out of taking obvious risks like this-there were a-bout ten people who had a key to the door.
Still, none of those ten people were expected to be in the building on a week night, so Jeffrey entered into the spirit of the thing. First, they turned on six showers in the room, three on each side, to varying degrees of warmth and coldness, and then ran from one to the other, sometimes pulling each other into a cold one. Then, after the fooling around, they soaped each other from neck level down to tips of the toes. While Jeffrey stood tall and erect in all ways, Miss Jellicoe soaped him where he was most erect, and he shouted with joy. Then he soaped her down, taking particular care with the breasts.
Then they rinsed themselves off, and with cushy towels, dried each other. And then-with Miss Jellicoe bravely leading and Jeffrey sheepishly following-they began their trek up to her room, each carrying a towel, but not bother to cover anything.
They went up the stairs, along the carpeted corridor, across the wide expanse of the basketball floor-how vulnerable they seemed-then along "another corridor, until Miss Jellicoe, turning a corner, stopped short and said, "Wheelock" involuntarily, suddenly turned a-round and, pushing Jeffrey before her, ran back the way they had come.
It was, indeed, Wheelock. Even since he had tasted the delights of love with Veronica, he had been able to think of little else. Of course, some men would have called Veronica and asked to see her again, but Wheelock was in a difficult position. Not only was he terribly inexperienced with women, but as president of the university, he didn't feel he could call and ask one of his students for a date. What is she refused!
So he would often stand in his third-floor office, looking across longingly at the scene of his greatest happiness, wondering if it would be repeated-and how. A few times he saw a light in the Student Union after normal hours and went scurrying over there, only to find that it was the bookstore manager working late, or a janitor finishing up after a long meeting. But he wasn't going to give up, and now, the third time he saw lights, he moseyed over and went wandering about the corridors.
Only this time he seemed to have hit the jackpot. When he heard his name, he turned around in time to see a pink fanny just disappearing around the corner. "Ah, ha!" he said in glee. "You little dickens? Caught you, huh?'
Most of this was said under his breath, for he didn't want his prey to know how close he was. He didn't know who it was, but he figured it must be one of the team's girls, and that was good enough for him. Now, when the trail led to the basketball court, he flicked on the lights-but only in time to see much the same sight, a pink fanny just disappearing.
"Getting closer," he said in partial triumph.
Jeffrey by now was cold and scared and his teeth were chattering. "What are we going to do?" he whispered.
"Just keep running, and don't get caught in a blind alley." And she kept pushing him before her.
"If we get caught, it'll cost you your job."
"We'll see. He's not here on a good-will mission, you know."
They went along a corridor, down the stairs, onto the first floor with a maze of offices and conference rooms. "We'll have to hide," Miss Jellicoe finally said in desperation, "and wait till the old boy gets tired."
She pushed Jeffrey into a room and, in the dim moonlight, steered him to a drape, then hid herself behind another drape.
Now, a less ardent pursuer would have certainly given up after having lost the trail. There were too many places they could have gone. And though he had only seen the girl, he'd heard two sets of footsteps so, presumed that she had a boy friend with her, and in that case, he could only be superfluous if he did find them. But there were a few considerations that led him on.
For one thing, naked people don't run outside and since most of the inner doors were locked, they just had to be here some place in one of the open rooms. For another thing, he hadn't actually seen a boy friend, and if there was one, well, he might be shamed into going home. But most important was the remembrance of his tussle with Veronica. It had easily been the most delightful moment in his life, and not knowing how to get a chance to repeat it except by this pursuit, he continued the pursuit.
He walked into one room and flicked on the lights. "Ha! Caught you, you little dickens, you!" He hadn't seen anybody, had only hoped to scare them out, but there'd been no one. He walked into a conference room. "Ha! There you are!" he yelled. There was no answer.
He was undaunted. The search was indeed pleasurable to him. As president of the university, he could hardly be criticized for investigating people running a-round in the Student Union naked after the doors were locked. And as a would-be Romeo, he felt certain of at least some reward when the search was ended-at the very least, the pleasurable sight of a naked girl that he would give a good talking to, for as long as he could make the talk last. And possibly there would be something better.
So he wasn't getting tired of his search. He took his time, going from room to room, often looking behind himself quickly to make sure they weren't doubling back on him. Finally, he entered the room where the two culprits were hiding.
"Ha! Caught you there!" he said with a tone of authority.
But there was no tell-tale rustle, nobody emerging from the drape, not so much because they disbelieved him, but because each thought the other had been discovered and decided to wait and see what happened. But neither had been discovered; Wheelock was only bluffing. Now he wandered around the room, looking behind chairs and sofas. Then-he saw a pair of very feminine naked feet!
Now that his prey had been found, he stood there, savoring the actual moment of revelation. He didn't "want it to happen all at once. He wanted to stretch out the delight of anticipation. He went back, turned out the light and closed the door, remaining on the inside.
He expected to see a naked Diana emerge from behind the drape and stand in the evanescent beauty of moonlight, but the culprits were too smart for him and stood still. So he crept over to the drape, suddenly thrust it aside, grabbed a forearm and pulled her forth, saying, "Come out of there, you little dickens!"
Miss Jellicoe didn't struggle to free herself from his grasp, but only stood with her head down. Wheelock was going to give her a talking to, as was only proper for the president of a reputable university, but he was taking his time about it. She was, after all, a beautiful sight in the dim moonlight. Her skin seemed to glow like phosphorus, and her breasts-fuller than he had expected-seemed to point toward him, inviting a touch that he feared to give.
"Ah, so you'll hang your head, will you! Well, we'll see who you are!"
Now, still holding her by the forearm, he pulled her over to the light switch and flipped it on. Then, putting a finger under her chin, he pulled her head up.
The smile dropped instantly from his face. "Miss Jellicoe!" he yelled. He felt sick inside, and letting loose his grip, he sat down weakly. "Miss Jellicoe!" he said again, with less voice. It simply hadn't occurred to him that the naked pink fanny had belonged to the prim and proper physical education instructor. "Miss Jellicoe!" he said a third time, his voice almost gone now.
Now that he had gazed on her naked body, had held her, had contemplated stroking her breasts, he felt he had committed a sin, even though he had contemplated doing all this with a student. But with Miss Jellicoe? The idea was unthinkable!
Miss Jellicoe turned off the light, and while the man was prostrate, went over and told Jeffrey to sneak out when he could, get dressed and bring her clothes. Then she went back to comfort the man-as well as to shield Jeffrey from his view.
Jeffrey sneaked out quickly, and in a few minutes, a hand reached around the door and laid her neatly folded clothes on the floor. Miss Jellicoe went over and calmly put her clothes on, then flipped on the light and said, "Will you take me home?"
It was a haggard, lined face the president raised to his phys ed teacher. "Miss Jellicoe," he gasped out. "It's as if a light has gone out in the world."
"Well, then, we'll just have to see if we can rekindle it," she said brightly.
Ten minutes before, he might have caught the implication of this, but now it just went over his head. He mumbled that his car was outside, and certainly he would take her home.
But he wouldn't go inside her apartment when she invited him. He simply had no desire for play of any sort right then. He was, indeed, a beaten man. And Sow, for the first time, Miss Jellicoe wondered if her job was in jeopardy. Still-though the idea of blackmail was abhorrent to her-she did know about Veronica.
"Ah well," she said. "Tomorrow is another day."
9
STATE UNIVERSITY ALWAYS SCHEDULED ITS first basketball game of the season with MacIntosh U. No one knew just how the tradition had started, but the game was regarded as only a warm-up for State,, and the question became not who would win, but how badly MacIntosh U. would be beaten. Even the MacIntosh U. students had begun to accept the annual drubbing with a philosophical shrug and often a laugh.
Now, despite MacIntosh U.'s sudden attraction for athletes, State U. did have some of the top players in the country, veterans of several years on the court against some pretty tough opposition. So it was with a pretty confident, smug feeling that the State U. players journeyed to the small town that housed MacIntosh U., while on the home campus there was a general feeling of resignation even among the players.
This feeling of resignation did not reach to the girls, however. They had put their head together and come up with a plan. They weren't going to key the MacIntosh U. boys up. After all, you cannot squeeze blood out of a turnip, and If they were really no match for the State U. boys, that wouldn't do much good. But there was always the other team to work on ...
So, as this confident group of boys got off the bus on a chilly Friday evening in December-twelve boys huddling down into their parkas against the cold, twelve boys and one coach-several pairs of eyes observed them, feminine pairs of eyes.
It would not be the same as when they keyed up their own boys, when it was sufficient to take care of the first string. Now they have to take care of all twelve boys-and the coach.
Coach Tetmiller sat back after his hearty supper, took another sip of wine, and lit up a fat cigar. "Well, it looks to be another exciting season," he said complacently. They were at Coach Bradley's farmhouse, along with Miss Jellicoe and Miss Willingham from the history department. Tetmiller went on, "We're playing Southern Cal and Ohio State, and let's see, Purdue and Notre Dame. Yes, sir! It should prove to be an exciting season."
"Don't forget MacIntosh U., " Miss Jellicoe said brightly.
Tetmiller coughed on a puff of smoke, then laughed out loud. "Ha, ha. Yes, I forgot, MacIntosh U. Well, that should be a killer-diller of a game tomorrow." Then, still chuckling, he reached for his glass of wine. He was already a little bit high, but he didn't need to worry. Bradley had invited him to stay for the night, and as for his boys ... well, they weren't the type to get into trouble. A healthy, well-disciplined lot they were. And if one or two stayed up an hour or so beyond curfew, what was there to worry about in that?
And indeed, along about ten o'clock, as Tetmiller was finishing off the fourth bottle of wine for the evening, his boys were settling down in their bunks. Whether MacIntosh was to prove a pushover or not, they did like to get their sleep, they did like to keep in condition.
So Terry, the captain, and his sidekick, the six-foot-ten Ziggy, had just settled down, turned out their bed lights and begun to relax when the door opened; the lights went on and a girl holding a towel just barely covering her feminine parts stood there looking surprised. Her long, shapely legs were showing to within an inch of where there was no more leg, and her tits were peeping over the top of the towel so that the boys sat up in bed, pop-eyed.
"Oh, excuse me," she said after a few moments of apparent bewilderment. She turned out the light and was gone.
Terry chuckled, and Ziggy said, "Wow!"
"I wonder where she's going," Terry said. "It wouldn't do any harm to take a look." He tiptoed to the door and peeked down the corridor, but he saw nothing. "She's gone," he said with a shrug, and returned to bed, thinking the evening's delight was over when it in fact had just begun.
Now the door opened again, and in came a phosphorescent orange dress-at least, so it seemed, for all they could see was the dress. Then a haunting voice said, "Don't turn on the light, or I'll disappear."
The boys were of no mind to make this girl disappear-especially since she now began weaving back and forth in a sinuous manner, she ripped off her blouse, revealing a phosphorescent brassiere. Then she stepped out of her skirt, which didn't change much because her half-slip looked about the same but then, that soon came off too. It was a truly intriguing sight to see those minimal garments, the brassiere and panties, seemingly floating in the air. Then the brassiere started crumpling. It fell, and the boys could only imagine the girl above the waist (but their imaginations were pretty strong). And then!
The panties started rolling down, apparently of their own accord, until they were just a thin strip like an abbreviated bikini. Then that, too, dropped and she stepped daintily out of them.
"Now, boys," she whispered. "Don't turn on the light, or I'll vanish into thin air-and you wouldn't like that, would you?"
"Hell, no!" Ziggy said.
"And here I am without a stitch on! Oh, I'm going to get chilly if one of you doesn't warm me up." They could hear her voice getting closer to the beds now, Soon she sat on Ziggy's bed, took his hand and placed it on her naked thigh.
"See? My leg is cold! I need you to rub me down. Would you mind ? '
"Hell, no," Ziggy said, sitting up.
At first he took her more or less literally; and just rubbed her leg. Then, getting more adventurous, he rubbed around her belly and back. Then, taking a chance, he rubbed his hands over her bubbly breasts. He let out a sigh of delight as he felt the pert nipples bump against his fingers. "Oh God!" he said.
Suddenly she jumped up and went to the other boy. "Now you've got to keep me warm, or I'll simply freeze. Would you mind?"
"Gosh, no !" Terry said.
Since he hadn't been able to see Ziggy and didn't know how far he could go, he, too, started out rather conservatively, rubbing her arms and legs, then her belly and back, bumping against her breasts from time to time, testing, just testing. Then, in a bold gesture, his hands went up over them gently, feeling Just the surfaces, and then gave them a good brisk rub. And Marsha (for that's who it was) squealed in delight herself.
"Now, who's going to help me put on my clothes?" she asked innocently.
"I will!" both boys yelled.
"Okay, you can both help. Now, you can find them, can't you?"
They laughed, for the orange glow was the only thing visible in the room. They went to get the scattered garments.
"First the panties, that's right," she said as one or the other held them on the floor for her to step into. "Okay, now up with them, atta boy, over the rump. Ah oh, you boys are experts. And now-that's right."
One of the boys was already holding out her brassiere for her to slip her arms into. "Okay, one of you hold my titties and get them nice and secure in the cups." There was a small scuffle, as each wanted to, but finally Ziggy gave way to his captain and resigned himself to hooking the garment when everything was in place. Then her half-slip, skirt and blouse were put on, and she was as she had entered.
"Good-bye, boys," she cooed softly.
"Good-bye!" they yelled. They didn't know what she looked like, but they knew she felt good. And again they retired to their beds, thinking the evening's fun was over. But not for long.
Now two girls came into the room, switched on the light, yawned, and took off their bathrobes to reveal rather sheer nightgowns. They didn't look at the boys or in any way acknowledge their existence. Then they switched off the light, tossed their robes aside, and climbed in bed, snuggling up close to their bedmates.
"Ah, George," Susan purred (for she was one, and Helen was the other). "You feel good tonight, George." And in the other bed, Helen was telling "BU!" how good it was to snuggle up against him.
Now the boys didn't know exactly what to do. If they told the girls they weren't George and Bill, would the girls get pissed off and say the boys should have told them immediately? On the other hand, if they didn't tell, would the girls press further, until it really would be embarrassing to reveal their true identity? Would they indeed stay all night?
Before the boys could come to any sort of conclusion the girls had pressed their soft bodies up against the-boys, had run their hands under their pajamas, over their flesh. And the poor boys were stiff from fright or from something, and now conclusions of any sort were not-likely to be forthcoming.
"George," Susan cooed in her boy's ear. Then she breathed softly into it until he shivered. "Did you miss me, George?"
"I ... don't ... know ... " he gasped out.
"You don't know!"
The poor lad had only meant that he didn't know what to say, since he had never seen her before, but when she acted surprised, he quickly said, "I mean yeah, sure."
"Well, that's better," she cooed. "Come, gimme a kiss. Gimme a nice, hot kiss. Make me tingle."
The lad complied the best he could, and he figured he must not be doing too badly, because she held onto him and pressed herself more tightly against him. Then, pulling back, she said, "Why, you're not George! You're not really George at all, are you?"
"Gosh, no. I guess I should have told you."
"Helen, we're in the wrong room!"
So Helen went through her act. "My God! You're not Bill?" she asked in mock surprise. "You're really not Bill?"
They leaped out of bed and backed toward the door, picking up their robes on the way. "Sorry," Susan said. "We really thought we were in another room."
"Oh, don't apologize," Ziggy yelled out. "We're not mad."
But after they left, Terry did feel a touch of resentment. He lay wide awake in bed now. "That was kinda nice," he said quietly. "But I can't sleep now. Damn those girls."
"Neither can I," Ziggy admitted. "And I keep wondering who George and Bill are. There's George Tamberlake, but we don't have anybody named Bill on the team. And besides, how would George know any girls down here? Must be a different guy."
"Must be."
"Well, I guess we'll just have to try to get some sleep."
"Yeah, I guess so."
But sleep for them was not to be, at least not in the near future. Soon the door opened again, and Terry was about to tell whoever it was-male or female-to buzz off, when the light flashed on, and the girl in the cushy towel just barely covering her stood there, dazzingly bright in her near nakedness-those long legs, those magnificent boobs (for it was Veronica, of course) threatening to overflow the towel-and he found he couldn't say a word.
"I need a big strong man to help me get my door open. How about you?" she asked Terry.
"Sure!" he said, hopping out of bed before the word was completely out of his mouth.
"Now, don't you despair," she said to Ziggy as she tripped out of the room, Terry following as if in a trance.
There were three unoccupied rooms, the twelve boys having been paired into six rooms, and it was to one of these vacant rooms that Veronica led Terry and asked him demurely if he would open the stuck door. So Terry put all his weight into a push on the door, and it opened so easily that he went shooting into the room.
"Oh, thanks so much," Veronica squealed, coming into the room after him and closing the door behind her. "Now you'll have to stay till I get in bed, because I'm afraid of the dark, and the lights don't work."
"Sure. I won't mind."
"Here, let me find you. I want you to hold me."
They touched hands and pulled close to each other. Suddenly Terry became aware that his hands were on a bare waist, and the implication of this struck him.
"Where's the towel?"
"I tossed it away. Why ?You can't see me, can you?"
"No." His teeth started chattering.
"Why are your teeth chattering? You cold?"
"No, I'm just-" He was going to say he was scared, being in this room with a voluptuously naked girl, but girls don't like scaredy-cats, so he switched and said, "Yeah, I guess I am."
"Well, I'll have to get your warm. Take this off, and this." She didn't see much reason for fooling around coyly, and when he, too, stood without a stitch on, she began rubbing him all over, which only made his teeth chatter all the more, and he shivered more because he was getting more scared.
"You can rub me too," she said.
Now Terry at last did begin to enter into the spirit of the evening. He started rubbing her in innocuous spots, along her waist and belly at first, then all over, over the. breasts, the warm, full, firm-soft breasts, and then he pulled her close, holding her tight, feeling her parsely patch press up against him, and her tremendous, titties and he at last left off chattering.
She whispered in his ear, "Let's get in bed." Terry drew the blankets back, and they jumped between the crisp, clean sheets that the school had thoughtfully provided for its guests. They pulled each other close, felt the heat go from one body to the other and back, felt every contour along the length of each other's bodies, felt the sap rising within them, felt this was the way the world should be!
" Veronica pulled her lover toward her and locked herself around him, locked her puss-puss around his long-noised little mousie, drew him toward her, made him a part of her, and he felt warm all over, safe, secure from all harm. He didn't want to leave her ever, it was so good, so good in a way he couldn't describe, so good in a way he could only experience. He found himself groaning for joy. This girl was absolutely beautiful, this girl of the magnificent body, the magnificent legs and breasts, the arms locked around his neck; this girl was marvelous beyond all measure. And as he rocked slowly back and forth, he felt that each rock would be his last, it was all so good, the girl was so warm, so inviting, pulling him ever closer to her, holding him tighter. Then suddenly he felt a warm glow, out to his toes, a warm glow that filled him, carried him on a soft wave of ecstasy until he thought there could be no more-and there was.
Meanwhile,. Ziggy was happily occupied. Veronica knew what she was talking about when she had told him not to despair. For she had no sooner left the room with Terry than Barbara, with boobies bouncing, came waltzing into the room, and before Ziggy knew what was happening, she had crawled into bed with him. and had taken his pajamas off. Of course, he didn't resist very much, but still it was remarkable how quickly she did it. And then she was rubbing him all over until her hand bumped into an upright pole, and when that didn't bother her, didn't embarrass her, he began to think that maybe she'd like for him to try the same with her. So he ran his hand over her fur-piece that had no upright pole, and she seemed to like that, and she seemed to like it when he pulled her close and pressed up against her, and indeed, she seemed to like about everything he did, including ...
Well, Ziggy wasn't sure how it happened, but he found himself on top, he found himself being drawn to that triangle of dark hair, stiff, erect, he found himself slowly drawn by arms, legs, lips, softness, whispers, drawn " to that eternal triangle, swallowed by warmth and cushiness, held closely, tightly, lovingly by arms and legs around him, soft hair and lips, held in an ecstatic embrace until he had tasted the. ultimate in ecstasy.
It was toward midnight when Ziggy and Terry lay in their bunks smoking. They figured they had broken one training rule, so why not another?
"At least we can tell the coach we were in bed, all right," Terry laughed.
"Yeah, that we can say."
And they lay there reminiscing over their experiences. So many times during the evening, they had thought the fun was over. When the first girl came in with the towel, they'd thought she was truly lost, and when she left, they thought they'd seen the last of her, and that was all. But then there was the girl with the phosphorescent strip-tease, and then the girls that crawled into bed, and then at last-WOW! Such friendly-girls they, had around MacIntosh U. Well, that had been enjoyable, but at last the fun was over, and they had to get some sleep. Or so they thought.
They were just drifting off when the door opened, the light flipped on, and two girls stood there. Susan, going up to take Ziggy by the hand, said, "Come on, I need a strong man, I just need a big strong man."
Thinking the fun was over and she really did need a big strong man to lift or move something heavy, Ziggy tagged along, but they were no sooner out of the room than Marsha hopped in bed with Terry to his no-little surprise, and started acting toward him in much the same way that the big blonde had.
Now, these two boys didn't know what was going on outside of what happened to themselves. Why should they have been wondering if the other guys were getting their fair share? So Terry just figured he had something these girls liked, if two of them wanted to hop in bed with him, and he wasn't going to question it. It didn't occur to him that this was happening to the other guys (besides Ziggy), and that the girls wanted to get them all groggy from sexing before the game. Why should he have been thinking of a basketball game at a time like that?
Furthermore, Terry was greatly pleased to find he was strong and capable so soon after a first encounter. He had never been In a second such circumstance before, but now with this girl rolling over him, pressing her naked body against him, he found he did stand firm and tall. Zowle!
This time he took longer, indeed, took very long, but the girl didn't seem to mind. She stayed with him, rocking back and forth, rolling a little from side to side, biting his earlobe, whispering In his ear, holding him close. OH!
Ziggy, in the meantime, was going through much the same experience. "Twice in one night! Twice in one night!" he kept saying to himself. And now the girls were running around indiscriminately, grabbing whatever guys they could find. There were, after all, twelve players to be taken care of, and only five girls.
"Oops, pardon me!" one girl said when she flipped on a light on a couple whose very intimate parts were just about to meet in a very intimate way.
A haggard-looking boy was dragging himself down the corridor to the John when Veronica came upon him. "Come on, hot-shot!" she said straightforwardly. "I need a man."
"Aw, now really," the poor fellow begged off. "I was just with a girl."
"Well, what of it? A healthy young fellow like you should be game for a second time."
"Second! This would be my fourth!"
Veronica let him go, and indeed, pretty soon the girls had no more boys to run to. They had all been taken care of. And so, with a feeling of mission accomplished, the girls put on their warm winter clothes and went home.
The next day, the home-town rooters went mad with a frenzy of excitement. MacIntosh U. got control of the ball right away and carried it right on down to a field goal. Then, in short order, they got two more and led 6-0, and it was about this time that the fans started warming up. No one yet expected them to win, but if they could get off to a good start, the drubbing might not be too bad, and it would be a moral victory.
State U. got a few goals, of course, but they couldn't-seem to break the forward movement of MacIntosh, and the first thing anybody knew, it was 22-10 in favor of the hosts. And now a few people began to wonder if MacIntosh was going to win, after all. The early lead didn't seem to be such a fluke as it first appeared, for the game had gone on ten minutes, and MacIntosh was pulling even further ahead.
Now the fans screamed and shouted whenever the home team made a basket. They were with their boys all the way, calling for a bloody reprisal for all the drubbings State U. had handed them, and as they approached the half, there was no one in the building-including the State U. boys-who didn't think MacIntosh might win. After all, with a lead of 61-27, they were looking pretty good.
But nobody could quite understand what had happened to the visiting team. True, the home team was playing a snappy game with particular flair, and against a mediocre team, this would have been sufficient to explain the score. But this was against State U., and nobody would heretofore have called them mediocre.
Yet the center seemed unable to jump more than a few feet off the floor, the guards were slow in moving down to defend the basket and didn't guard a thing, and the forwards weren't very forward. It was a lethargic, slow-moving team, and Coach Tetmiller was driven to frenzy, yelling at them from the sidelines to get going, get the lead out of their asses. He was absolutely red in the face. But it did no good.
At half-time, there was frank jubilation in the MacIntosh U. dressing room. The boys weren't afraid of jeopardizing their game by being happy. They knew they had it made that day, and they knew they were going to go out and wrap up that game in the second half. But over in the other dressing room, there was a heavy air of gloom.
At first Tetmiller couldn't even speak, he was so choked with rage. Finally, when he could speak, what came out wasn't rage; it was a plea from the humblest depths within him. "All right, you guys, what is it? Just tell me what it is, please. Just to satisfy my curiosity."
There wasn't a player there who didn't know what the trouble was, there wasn't a single one who didn't realize that they had been duped by the girls the night before. Yet, there wasn't a single one that intended to talk, so they all sat glumly while Coach Tetmiller pleaded.
"And I thought they liked me," Terry said to himself. "Damn!"
Suddenly Tetmiller exploded and practically blew the roof off. "TELL ME WHAT IT IS! You bunch of lead-footed, lead-assed nincompoops. You look like my grandmother running after the mailman. You look like you're afraid of hurting somebody's feelings. "I'M GOING TO FIND OUT WHY YOU GUYS WON'T GET MOVING! You, Terry, you don't get two feet off the floor; it's like you have glue on your shoes. Maybe you do. Here, let me look."
He picked up Terry's left foot and examined the sole of the shoe with mock seriousness, then dropped it. "Naw, that ain't it. BUT WHAT THE HELL IS IT?"
Now he went along to each player, making specific references to their brains, their feet, their rear-ends, their energy, their ancestry. He yelled at them, cajoled them, threatened them, pleaded with them, barked at them, wooed them, begged them; did, in fact, everything he could think of doing. Then, with an air of resignation, he sent them out for the second half.
The talk might have done a little good. In the first half, MacIntosh U. had run up a lead of 34 points. In the second half, they stretched that lead only another 20 points, and polished off the game 99 to 45.
The stands went wild. The band played, the cheerleaders yelled, the players hoisted Bradley up on their shoulders and paraded him around the court.
If they had the people who really deserve the credit, he thought, they'd be carrying around five girls. Nevertheless, he knew that such could hardly be, so he grinned broadly and accepted the congratulations of the crowd.
10
"MISS JELLICOE," WHEELOCK SAID STERNLY, "if you're going to run around the Student Union in the altogether with one of your boy friends, you'll just have to do it for me, too." He pursed his mouth, shook his head and said, "No, no. that won't do." He walked away from the mirror and sat down.
For two weeks now, he had been able to think of little but Miss Jellicoe. He wanted to approach her and say something to her, anything, just to break the ice, but he just didn't know how. And so he had practiced this and that in front of the mirror, and nothing seemed just right-and understandably so.
It was not only that he was inexperienced with women. What was worse, he had always put Miss Jellicoe on a pedestal. She had always represented for him all that was feminine, pure and womanly-and then suddenly to find her naked, knowing there was a boy friend hovering in the background somewhere, was almost more than he could bear. It was almost as if he had suddenly seen his mother naked.
Of course, he had retained something of a sense of humor about it. He had to admit that he was deliberately chasing a naked female, and did want to find the female in a naked state, so by what right could he condemn her? And as a matter-of-fact, he didn't condemn her. He was only surprised, that's all, maybe a little disheartened. But mostly what bothered him was simply that he wanted to tell Miss Jellicoe that he liked her, that he wanted to see her again, and he didn't know how to go about doing it.
Now he got up and went to the mirror again. "Miss Jellicoe-but may I call you Jane?-I want you, I want you now, wrapped around me!" He laughed when he had said that, for it wasn't at all like him, and he knew he could never say that. Now he looked in the mirror a-gain and tried a quite different approach. "Miss Jellicoe, your charm has enchanted me, and I respectfully request the honor of your company for dinner tomorrow night." His face lit up. "That's it! If she laughs, I'll act like I was kidding, and if she takes it all with a straight face, I'll play it straight too. That's it!"
And then, before he could lose his enthusiasm, he grabbed his hat and coat and started walking toward Miss Jellicoe's apartment. "Charmed!" he said, "Enchanted. Have the honor-or should it be pleasure-of your company." He giggled to himself. The phrases sounded silly, but if they worked, then they worked.
So it was with a full heart and a joyful face that he bounded up the steps in her apartment building and pushed her buzzer. But as soon as he saw her beautiful face, he lost all courage and could only say, "Miss Jellicoe!"
"Why, President Wheelock! Come in."
He walked in, stood there, and again said, "Miss Jellicoe."
"Here, let me take your hat and coat. And sit down."
He relinquished those garments, sat down and said, "Miss Jellicoe."
"Here, let me take your suit coat," she said. 'You might as well be comfortable."
He wriggled out of that, let her have It, and said, "Miss Jellicoe."
Now Jane Jellicoe had one of those strokes of genius that separate the intelligent from the stupid. She could have waited demurely to see what he wanted. She might even have thrown herself on his mercy and pleaded that that episode in the Student Union was totally unlike her, had never happened before and would never happen again. Or she could have acted femininely seductive and let him carry her off to bed, after which he could hardly have censured her for the earlier episode.
But she had that flash of insight. He hadn't come to chide her; he had indeed come to seduce her, to sweep her off her feet, but would never be able to do it. This she suddenly knew with a certainty, and without losing her rhythm, she decided she was going to seduce him straight forwardly, without guile or coyness.
"Here, let me take your tie. And your shoes."
"Miss Jellicoe," was all he could think of to say as she took off those incidental garments. His voice was getting husky.
"And this shirt. My, it's so warm in here, isn't it?"
"Oh, Miss Jellicoe." He looked at her with wide, grateful eyes, still unable to say anything more.
Out went one light, then another, until there came only a faint glow from the kitchen to cast a romantic luminosity on the lovers.
"Your socks now. And while we're at It, these woolly old trousers.'
He let her take them off, as if he were a baby being undressed by his mother. And he could only say softly, gratefully, "Oh, Miss Jellicoe."
"And this T-shirt, now."
"Oh, Miss Jellicoe."
"And your skivvies."
"Oh! Miss Jellicoe!"
But he didn't resist. He let her pull them down, then he sat there friskily naked and curiously unashamed.
"Well, are you going to let me stand here with all my clothes on?"
"Oh,-Miss Jellicoe!"
"First my shoes ... now my stockings. Yes, you've got to reach up, attaboy, and unhook them, that's, right, now roll them down slowly."
"Ohhh, Miss Jellicoe."
"My sweater and then my skirt."
"Uh, Miss Jellicoe ... "
He was getting a little nervous now. Her sweater had no blouse under it, and there she was her in undies. He had not really dreamed that he would get this far. But apparently there was yet to be more undressing.
"Now the brassiere."
"Ohhh, Miss Jellicoe." it was a delight he had hardly hoped for, and now as he saw her flesh naked and glowing above the waist, he felt himself growing weak.
He was still standing behind her, so she reached behind, got both his hands, and put them on her waist. "Hook your thumbs under the elastic," she said, and when he had done that, she added, "and now, pull down slowly."
"Oh, Miss Jellicoe," he whispered in her ear as he pulled her last two garments halfway down over her delightful pink fanny. Then he stopped.
"Well," she whispered. "I'm waiting."
He had his thumbs hooked under the elastic of both the half-slip and, the panties, so now when he pulled further, they both fell to the ground-and she stood dazzingly naked. Now she took his hands and ran them all over her body, and he could only shout out: "OH, MISS JELLICOE!! !"
Now she turned around and faced him, kissed him, pulled herself close, and whispered, "Are you going to make me walk all the way into the bedroom?"
He got the message. He picked her up, like a strong man of yore, and carried her straight Into the bed. It was the first masculine act he had done thus far, and Miss Jellicoe need that much-at least a symbolic gesture of manhood on his part Now, as she felt herself held by strong arms and as she pressed against that sturdy chest, it was enough, It was enough. And she knew she was going to enjoy him.
He was an inexperienced-but by no means frightened lover-as she had known some swaggering men to be. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, but he learned quickly. And now he had an arm around her waist and both hands on her buns, pulling her lower section toward him, her furplece toward his stiff piece, pressing his chest against her tittie-tips, delighting In her tongue (It was a new experience for him) and even trying a few forays with his own tongue.
The he felt her pulling him on top of her, and he resisted a little; he didn't know why, but maybe he just wasn't ready. Whatever the reason, his resistance didn't last long. He let himself go. He let himself be drawn Into the abyss, Into warmth and delight and love, into flesh and security and softness, Into all that made him feel wonderful, made him feel that life is beautiful.
He held her close, buried his face against her neck, felt her soft hair brush against his face, felt her soft breasts press against his chest, felt her soft-stiff hair pressed against his belly. And as they rocked back and forth, he could only whisper, "Oh, Miss Jellicoe. Oh, oh, oh, Miss Jellicoe."
Then he felt himself grow weak all over, grow cushy all over; he felt a suffusion of ecstasy take hold of his body and carry it to heights of delight he had not dreamed of (he had been nervous with Veronica), and then when he thought he had reached the highest, he burst with a dazzling spray of joy and slowly floated back to earth and bed and the arms of his beautiful paramour.
Afterward, they sat In bed smoking cigarettes. Wheelock was still unable to talk and express himself, only now from a fullness of love and affection rather than from being scared. And then at last he took one hand, leaned over and kissed her in gratitude and said, "Oh, Miss Jellicoe."
"Don't you. think you can call me Jane by now?" she asked.
"Yes, yes," he said eagerly. And then he said, "Oh, Jane!"
11
JEFFREY HAD BECOME FRIENDLY WITH CHAR-lie, as was bound to happen. The student body was small, and it was inevitable that the two athletes would meet. Now, since Susan and Jeffrey seldom met on campus, Charlie had never seen them together, and Susan had refused to tell him the name of her number one boy friend. Jeffrey, on his part, didn't talk about Susan to anyone. He wasn't trying to keep it a secret, exactly-yet, in a way he was. She was very precious to him, and he hated the way some boys often talked of their girl friends. So he said nothing about Susn-or abut Miss Jellicoe.
The upshot was that Charlie didn't have the faintest idea that Jeffrey was the rival who had bested him. And when he invited Jeffrey to supper one evening along with a few other fellows, he little thought he was going to set off such a dramatic turn of events.
Now, it happened that Charlie had a picture of Susan, which he kept propped on his desk-for after all, she was dear to him, though he had had to relinquish first place on her list. And the picture was visible from Just about anywhere in the room, the result being that Jeffrey hadn't been In the apartment two minutes when he saw the picture.
He went over to it, feeling a little queasy inside. "Hey, who's this?" he asked, not knowing exactly why he'd asked in that way, when he knew damn well who it was.
'Aw,' Charlie said, "that's Just some broad who comes over here to get laid. She says her number one boy friend won't touch her."
Jeffrey felt so weak he thought for a moment he was going to be sick. He sat down in the chair. He wanted to get up and run out, but didn't know if he had the energy.
"She won't tell me who this guy is," Charlie went on, happily unaware of the effect he was producing. "Now I ask you, what kind of guy is that? Hey! What's the matter? You're green! And you haven't even eaten my cooking yet. Are you all right?"
Jeffrey was too weak to answer. A wave of nausea swept over him, and when it had passed and he felt his strength returning, he suddenly got up and ran out of the apartment Just as the other guests were arriving.
"Hey, what's the matter with Jeffrey?" one asked. "He ran past us without a word. He looked as if he was running from the Devil himself."
"I don't know," Charlie said. "He went over there, asked me something about Susan's picture, sat down looking green, and then ran out."
"Holy Christ!" one of the boys exclaimed. "How come you've got Susan's picture?"
"Cause. Why shouldn't I. She's my girl, sort of."
"Well, I'll tell you why he looked green. Because that's his girl. He doesn't talk about her much, but
I've seen them together lots of times."
"His girl?" Charlie queried weakly. "HIS GIRLS And I told him-" But he couldn't bring himself to tell the other boys exactly what he had said to Jeffrey. He could only say, "Well, Kee-rist! What do you suppose I should do now?"
"What can you do? He knows she's two-timing him now. How are you going to deny that?"
Charlie had to admit that he didn't know, and reluctantly returned to his task of getting supper for the group that was now to be a threesome instead of a foursome. They talked about this and that, and Charlie tried to keep up his end of the conversation, but his mind was far away, and when he was finally able to get his guests out the door, he breathed a sigh of relief.
As soon as they were around the corner, he dashed out the door himself. He had to see Jeffrey. He didn't know what he would say. That what he'd said about Susan wasn't really true? No, that wouldn't convince him. That he would give Susan up? Yes! Now that he thought of it, that's just what he would promise! He hadn't minded tapping another guy's girl as long as that other guy was an anonymous nonentity, but now that he knew it was Jeffrey ... well, he just never could be comfortable again with Susan, so he would promise that.
But Jeffrey wasn't in his room, and his roommate said he hadn't seen him since before supper. Charlie wandered out and around the campus. Then, on a whim, he called on Susan and induced her to come out for a walk.
"Susan," he finally said as they walked along the open area of the quadrangle. "Yes, Charlie."
"Why didn't you tell me Jeffrey was your boy friend?"
She stopped short. "How did you find out?"
"He was over at my apartment tonight. He's sort of a friend of mine-or at least, he was. And he saw your picture."
"Oh, God!"
"Susan, it's worse than that."
"How can it be worse?"
He feared to tell her, and yet he knew he had to. "Susan, he looked at your picture and said, "Who's this?" and I told him you were a girl who came over to get laid because your boy friend wouldn't touch you."
Charlie hung his head now while Susan wailed, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! How could you have said such a stupid thing?!"
He hung his head still further. "I don't know. I really don't know. It just came out. Susan, if there's anything I can do to make up for this, I'll gladly do it. Maybe there is one thing I'll give you up. That's how much I want to prove to you that I didn't mean any harm. And besides, I couldn't lay you any more, knowing it's Jeffrey. He's my buddy-or was. And the second thing: if I could ... if I could ... well, bring you and Jeffrey together ... ! mean, in every way ... that would be sort of funny for me to do, but I feel it would vindicate me."
Susan was hardly listening to him ramble on. Her mind was too full of everything, and she had her hand to her forehead. At last she said resignedly, "Well, let's go see Jeffrey and see what can be done."
"I was just there, and he wasn't in his room, but maybe he's come back."
But he hadn't. His roommate said he hadn't seen hide nor hair of him, and Charlie and Susan were forced to wander around some more. It was a balmy evening in early spring, and normally there would have been nothing more pleasurable; but each had such a heavy heart that there was no joy between them. They stumbled along, saying almost nothing, except, "Wanna cigarette?" or "Watch out there." When they went back some time later to check on Jeffrey, he still wasn't there, and finally Susan had to go in, for girls had curfew hours.
Charlie kept checking back until two o'clock, but decided by then that he might as well turn in for the night. Wherever Jeffrey was, Charlie couldn't help him by wandering around.
When Charlie awoke the next morning, he knew immediately that he had a heavy load on his mind, and it took him a couple of minutes to realize just what it was. Then it hit him. Of course! Jeffrey had to be found. And if anything had happened to him ... Charlie shuddered. Then, in a minute, he was up, dressed and on his way.
He was headed for Jeffrey's dorm, but on his way, he found a small crowd milling about the tower. "Hey, what's up?" he asked the first fellow he came to.
"That crazy fool," the fellow said, pointing up.
Along a ledge of the tower, just below the clock, at least a hundred feet above ground, was the figure of a young man in an open-necked white shirt and dark trousers. He stood with his back to the tower, facing the milling specks on the ground, his arms out-stretched, his hands flat against the bricks.
"Gosh!" Charlie said. "I wonder why-" Then his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and his blood froze. "Jeff!" he croaked hollowly. Then he began yelling for all he was worth.
"Jeff! Jeff! It's going to be all right! Everything's all right! Can you hear me? Susan-she loves you! We're through! It's going to be all right, can you hear me?"
"I don't want any favors from you, Charlie," he yelled back.
Charlie groaned and started running back and forth, throwing his arms in the air. "Jeff I Listen, I'll do anything, anything you say. Look, I'll get down on my knees." He did get down on his knees and raise his arms to Jeffrey. "I beg of you, Jeff, let me talk to you! Give it a day, will you? There's no coming back once you-Jeff, can you hear me?"
"Go away, Charlie," Jeffrey yelled. "Everybody, go away. It won't be a pretty sight. Or is that why you're standing around-to see the splash and splatter? Ha!"
"Jeff! Jeff! Nobody wants to see you jump. Do you hear me? Go back in, go back in that window, and I'll come up and get you." Charlie turned around to the other students. "Has anybody gone up the stairs?"
"Yeah, I went all the way up," said one fellow with a worried look on his face. "He's got the door locked. He yelled out that he'd jump if I broke it down. So what was I gonna do. I didn't know if he was telling the truth or not, and I sure as hell didn't wanna be the guy that pushed him over the brink."
"No," Charlie mused slowly. Suddenly he broke a-way from the crowd and started running. He just had to find Susan. Perhaps she would turn the trick. And as he ran, he found himself hoping, praying that Jeffrey would hold on those few minutes longer; wondering if he himself would feel he'd deserted Jeffrey at a crucial moment if he did jump; wondering if he would feel guilty, yet knowing at the same time that he would feel a sense of relief at not having been a witness to the fall.
He roused Susan out of bed-by way of the housemother, of course-and when she came sleepy-eyed into the living room, he said, "Get your coat, and hurry!"
"What is it? Is it Jeffrey?"
"Get your coat," he repeated. "I'll explain on the way. C'mon-hustle I"
Susan finally heeded the imperative tone in his voice and got her coat, and they were soon on their way, hurrying-not talking, despite Charlie's promise-each imagining the worst, though Charlie's vision was naturally a little more vivid and specific.
At last they got there. When Susan looked up and saw Jeffrey standing with his back to the tower, poised to jump, she stifled a scream, then just crumpled in a heap.
"Jeffrey!" Charlie yelled. "Do you see what you did? Susan loves ya, can't you see that? She just crashed when she saw you up there! Can you imagine what it would do if she saw you spread out down here? It would completely blow her mind, man. Do you hear me?
"I don't need any lectures from you, Charlie."
"It's not a lecture. I'm just telling you the score. Now go back in that window, you hear? We'll be buddies, and you'll have Susan. Cripes, man, do you hear what I tell you? Things'll be better than ever before!"
"You'd better go to class, Charlie."
"Oh, sweet Jesus, what do we do now?" he groaned.
Now Susan was nearly revived by some students who had patted her wrists. She sat up dazedly, collected her wits, then stood up and implored Jeffrey: "Jeff, come down! Everything can be explained, don't you understand? We can-I can explain everything, if you'll give me a chance."
"Oh, I'm certain you can," he said sarcastically.
Charlie ran and stood right below Jeffrey. "Okay, look, Jeff. If you jump, you're going to hit me. From that height, you'd kill me too. Okay? Do you understand?"
"Don't make me cry, Charlie."
Charlie groaned. Now Susan came up to him. "All three of us, Jeffrey," she yelled. But she had really come up to talk to Charlie. "Look, if we could get a-plank, maybe somebody could crawl over to the tower from the administration building and grab hold-"
Charlie walked back to his former vantage point and surveyed the situation. The administration building came close to the tower at one point, and a long plank extended from a fourth-floor window could easily reach the ledge of the tower. Yes, it could be done. But how much time did they have?
Well, it was a chance they would have to take. It was obvious they weren't doing much good by arguing and pleading. It would be awfully risky for Susan to try grabbing hold of Jeffrey, of course, but Charlie might manage it. But then, Susan might do better pleading at close range where she could say much more without fear of being overheard.
A new library was being built, and there were numerous planks abouts, so Charlie picked up a good, long, stout one, and with Susan offering perhaps more hindrance than help, he hoisted it on his shoulders and carried it up the three flights of the administration building. They found a hall window that proved to be just the right height, and forced it open. Charlie began to inch the plank out to the tower ledge. And now Susan became a great help, for the plank began to get unwieldy when they had nine feet out in the air and only three feet to hang on to. So at Charlie's side she hung on tight, and they finally got it out and securely onto the ledge.
Some of the people on the ground had pointed to the plank, so Jeffrey-still with his back to the tower-came inching his way around until he could see what it was that had caught their Interest. And now he stood facing the two who had inadvertently led him to seek the precarious perch he was perched on.
"Jeffrey," Susan pleaded, in a soft, sweet tone. "Come back. Please go in that window and unlock the door. I'm not going to see Charlie any more, do you understand? You're the only one I want to see, and I'm saying that right in front of him."
"Your sudden concern for me touches my heart," he sneered.
"Oh, Jeffrey, Jeffrey," she wailed. "Look, if you don't climb in the window and unlock the door, I'm going to come over there and pull you in, do you understand?"
"Oh, you two are so brave and concerned now. But you're not worried about me. You're only worried about how guilty you'd feel if I jumped. Well, maybe I will jump-ha, ha-and let you feel guilty-ha, ha!"
Susan climbed out on the plank. Jeffrey's eyes got big as saucers, and now he pleaded with her: "Don't Susan, don't be a fool!"
"I must, Jeffrey, if this is the only way to show you I mean what I say, if this is the only way to show you I love you."
"It's not the only way. Go back!" Now Jeffrey edged along to a window, got his rump over the sill, and fell backward onto the floor inside. Then he ran to the window directly above the plank and pleaded with the crawling girl again. "Look, Susan, I'm inside now. I'll get down, I swear I will, if you'll only go back! Will you? I believe you now, I believe everything you say!"
Susan stopped, but she found that she couldn't go backward and couldn't turn around. "I can't go back, Jeffrey," she wailed, "I'll have to come on." She was about a third of the way over now.
"All right, come on," Jeff said tensely. He leaned out the window and held one end of the plank firmly. "Hang on, Charlie," he yelled. "Don't let it tilt, for Christ sakes. Susan, just keep coming, don't look down, just look at me." He looked down himself and found it more frightening than when he had been standing on the ledge.
"How'm I doing?" she yelled to Jeffrey when she was halfway.
"Just fine. Now keep looking at me, Just keep coming, atta girl."
"Jeffrey, you know I love you."
"Yes, Susan, yes. I believe you now, and I love you too. Oh, God, I do love you. Now don't talk, just keep coming."
She was doing so well that she looked down to see how far up she was. Then she stopped short. "Jeffrey, I feel sick."
She was still just short of an arm's reach out. He felt the plank teeter precariously and felt a little sick himself. But he knew he had to talk her in. "AU right, Susan. Just don't think about it. Just a little more, just put one knee forward, then a hand. Atta girl."
She was so close he could look deep into the blue of her eyes. She wasn't afraid now and only seemed to want to tell him again that she loved him. She was within an arm's length now, but Jeffrey feared to reach out and grab hold. It might give her a false sense of security, and he didn't know if he could hold on if she fell while she was that far out, so he kept talking her in.
"Okay, Susan, you're almost here, just keep on the way you're been doing, that's a way, just a few more steps, okay, now."
He braced himself, and when she got right to the
"window, he caught her by both arms and yanked her in. They both fell back on the interior platform as the plank fell a hundred feet and bounced on the ground below.
Jeffrey was beside himself, crying, laughing, kissing, exulting. Then, when the initial exultation was over, he just buried his head in her shoulder and let himself cry. He hadn't known it was in him to cry so profusely or so unashamedly. But it was such a relief to have her safe and in his arms that he just let himself go, and it felt good.
Then at last he was able to stop and say, "Susan, I didn't know I loved you so much. If you had fallen, I would've jumped right after you, I swear to God I would've."
"Well, it was the only way I could show you how much I loved you. You just wouldn't believe me."
Jeffrey hung his head and said huskily, "I believe you now, Susan." Then he lifted his head and said, "Oh, God, you are a marvel, Susan. Can I ever be worthy of you?"
"Oh, don't talk nonsense. You're worth ten times more than I am."
He didn't want to argue about a matter like that, so he simply buried his head in her neck again and relaxed. And his heart was full. ft was like a honeymoon that night. Since they had both had a hair's breadth escape from death, and since they had discovered their love for each other, it was just assumed that they would spend the night together. Even Susan's housemother offered no objection, though she could hardly make an open acknowledgement.
The only question was where. Neither Susan nor
Jeffrey had an off-campus apartment. Charlie did, and "would have been happy to let them have it for a night or a week-but in consideration of the nights Susan had spent there with him, he knew it would be in poor taste to offer it. Similarly, there was Coach Bradley's house, where Susan had also frolicked, and Miss Jellicoe's, where Jeffrey had frolicked.. Any of those occupants would have been glad to give up their abodes temporarily, but knew they could hardly offer. A motel was possible, but Jeffrey and Susan knew it would give a fly-by-night aspect to what was going to be anything but a fly-by-night relationship.
At last the perfect offer came-by way of Charlie, who got the word by way of Miss Jellicoe, who got it from the offering party. Susan and Jeffrey knew nothing of this. They were sitting on a bench by the lagoon in the early evening, holding hands, looking into each other's eyes, and sighing from time to time, when Charlie appeared suddenly before them and handed Jeffrey a slip of paper.
"You'll have a whole house to yourselves. Nobody's going to. ask where you are until about this time tomorrow night."
Jeffrey hung his head. He was the only person on the campus who hadn't automatically assumed that he would spend the night with Susan. And now, though he knew she had previously rolled in the hay with Charlie, and though she had protested her love for Jeffrey indeed, had risked her life to show it-he wasn't sure she would want to go to bed with him. So he asked softly, "Susan, do you want to?"
"Oh God!" She took his head in both her hands, gave him a soul-searing kiss and said, "How much I could never say !"
Charlie ran his hand over Jeffrey's hair, mussing it. "Don't be an idiot, Jeff. The girl's in love with you. Now, you just go to this address, be happy, and don't ask any questions."
They walked down Oak Street, and soon realized they were getting into the ritzy section of town. Then, following the winding street, they came to the address-a large, white, stucco mansion. They were even more surprised when, after ringing the doorbell, the door opened and there stood-
"President Wheelock!" Jeffrey said, aghast.
"In person," he said joyfully. "Come in. There's been no mistake. Here, Susan, are two presents for you-not from me, so don't thank me, and don't ask any questions. Just enjoy yourselves. The house is yours, food's in the icebox, don't answer the phone, don't answer the doorbell. Good night, my beautiful ones. I'M be back about supper time tomorrow."
With that, he was gone. He had been all ready and waiting for them for a half-hour, so he didn't want to stick around. Now Susan went over to look at her presents. There was a bottle of perfume and a diaphanous, smoke-blue negligee.
"Oh, Jeffrey!" She turned around and hugged him. For with these two gifts, she suddenly felt she was going to be beautiful for him, and she envisioned it all. There was going to be no cheap stuff, no teasing or tempting, hiding a little, showing a little, as she had done with the football boys. She was going to ask Jeffrey to wait, and then she would undress, dab herself with the perfume, and put on the sheer negligee. Then, in the dim light, she would call him to her. It was all going to be so beautiful.
Now, hand in hand, they went exploring the house. They were in no hurry, so they went to the kitchen first, then to the pantry, the dining room-even on an impulse, to the cellar. Then, slowly, still hand-in-hand, they went up to the second floor, found three bedrooms, and bounced on the beds.
All the rooms seemed satisfactory, so they picked the largest one. Then Susan shoved Jeffrey out and said she would call for him. She found a bathroom with a box of bubble bath powers (Wheelock, the old dog, had bought them for Miss Jellicoe, who had spent a few nights there). Now she filled the tub, stepped daintily into the hot sudsy water, and relaxed.
It had indeed been quite a day, and she hadn't realized how tired she was, so she remained motionless a few moments. But she had a lover waiting for her, so she didn't take too long. When she stepped out she dried herself on a fluffy towel, then reached for the perfume bottle, and dabbed the cooling liquid on her wrists, her breasts, behind her ears, on her neck. Then she donned the negligee, pirouetted before the mirror, and went out to call her lover.
"Jeff !" she cooed softly from the top of the stairs.
He appeared at the foot, magazine in hand, promptly dropped the magazine and started slowly up the stairs, his eyes shining.
She was shimmering in the soft light. Now Jeffrey stood looking at her for a moment, then ran his hands up and down her arms and over her back. He kissed her and felt that young, yearning body up close to his. He picked her up, carried her into the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed.
"Take off your clothes," she said softly.
"I'm scared."
"Why?"
"Cause. You're so beautiful, and I'm ... well, boys without clothes aren't as beautiful as girls without clothes."
"Maybe you will be to me. Take off your clothes, Jeffrey."
He smiled gratefully at her, then stripped down to his shorts. They sat side by side now on the bed. Jeffrey ran his hands across her belly, pulled her toward him and kissed her. Her body was warm and soft under the filmy gown.
"Take off my negligee," she whispered. There was a string-bow at the neck. Jeffrey untied this and drew the gown open at the neckline. She was bare all the way down the middle.
"Anything else to untie?"
"That's all. Now, take it off."
He drew it over her shoulders, she wriggled her arms out, and the gown fell back on the bed. She sat there like a while lily, upright and pure. Jeffrey let his gaze wander over this beauty, and he felt his breath taken from him.
"Take these off," she said softly, tugging at the waistband of his shorts.
"Gosh." He was reluctant at first, but he took them off, and they sat side-by-side on the bed-much as he sat about a year earlier with Miss Jellicoe, though such a comparison hardly came to mind now. He knew only that there was something exquisitely beautiful about this tender blossom, this white flower. "
"Let's get in bed," she whispered.
They slid between the sheets and began fondling each other, pressed close. Jeffrey ran his hands over that slim body, the small, but perfect breasts, over the furpiece that always struck him as such an anomaly on a young girl, though he knew it had to be there.
They rested a while, kissed, nuzzled, snuggled. Then the kisses began getting deeper, longer. Her body was pressed against his, moss against boss, breasts against chest.. Her fingers ran along his back and arms.
Jeffrey just closed his eyes, and felt himself being carried up to a realm where the clouds were swirling. He felt himself being rocked about so delightfully, he thought he would explode. (He didn't know she was pulling him over on top of her.) And then he felt himself being enveloped by her-her arms around him, her legs around him, her lips on his, her pussy around his so-sensitive cock-a warm, soft, cavern that slid up to take him all the way in and then he was truly part of her, part of this wonderful being. And though he had thought he was nearly ready to explode before, now there was no worry. He was confident, sure of himself, part of her, one body rocking back and forth, though it had two voices, two groans in rhythm. Then, together, they floated up, reached that high peak of ecstasy where they were truly one being united for all eternity in beauty and in love, that high peak of ecstasy beyond which there could be no greater bliss. Then, slowly, like being wafted about on a parachute, they floated back and landed gently on earth, where they realized that these were after all, two separate bodies that eventually would have to be disentangled.
They lay side by side on their backs now, not speaking, not able to speak. Jeffrey felt too full of joy to be able to say all he wanted to say. The thought occurred to him that 24 hours earlier he had wanted to kill himself, and he shuddered. It didn't seem real now, but this tender blossom next to him did seem real in all her youthful beauty. .
Now she snuggled close to him, her body pressed against his side. "What are you thinking?"
"Oh," Jeffrey mused, "if I said I was thinking about how much I love you, it wouldn't be half of what I feel. But let me Just say It, Susan-I love you, love you, love you."
12
THE BASKETBALL TEAM DIDN'T WIN THEM ALL. For one thing, the later teams came better prepared for MacIntosh, and some of them were pretty tough. And of course, MacIntosh couldn't play all its games at home. So the boys lost a few. But they did finish the season with a respectable 22-5 record, and that was pretty remarkable for a school that hadn't won a game the previous season.
And the baseball season was coming up. Susan had dropped out of the entourage, but three new girls had asked to become a part of the elite pep squad, so that made seven in all. The three new girls were Nan, Carrie and Yvonne.
And for the baseball boys, the girls had planned a two-part festival. Friday night, catch-and-grab in the Student Union. (They had been assured the complete run of the building.) Then, Saturday night, there would be a woodland dance in the glade. The girls had told the team members they would perform this dance only' if the team won, but the girls planned all along to give it anyway, either as a victory prize or as a consolation prize. After all, they already had the veils they were going to use in their dance.
So, on Friday evening at eight o'clock, they gathered in the Union, locked the doors, pulled the drapes and set the rules-seven bright-eyed girls, fourteen bright-eyed boys, "All right," Veronica said. "Here's the game. We scatter. Ypu come find us. Any place in the building. When you find us, you've gotta hold on, and if you do, you get one piece of clothing, which you must bring back here. And when a girl is down to no clothing-well, we'll decide then what to do." Actually, Veronica wanted to say that the girl reduced to total nudity had to come back, put on all her clothes and wait for the rest of the girls, but she didn't want to discourage the boys-and besides, it didn't turn out that way, after all. "Now, there are twice as many of you as there are of us, so we'll have a hard time evading you. Count to ten, boys. Scatter, girls!"
Now the girls went running helter-skelter, this way and that along the dimly lit corridors. Then came the boys (some having counted only to eight.) If one could have seen them from above, they would have looked like Greek maidens of long ago, fleeing from would-be ravishers who had just conquered the town. But if one had looked a little closer, he would have seen that the maidens weren't fleeing too fast, and that, indeed, they slowed down to let themselves be caught time to time. One would have been even more astounded to note that the would-be ravishers took only a small piece of clothing, such as a shoe or a sweater, and then retired gracefully.
At first the girls didn't put up much of a struggle. There went a shoe, then another, then socks, sweaters, blouses, and skirts. Unrestricted by those cumbersome outer garments, the girls ran freely through the building in their bras and panties and slips. Now, down to just these few garments, they put up more of a struggle. They didn't say, "Okay, you've got me," as they had been doing. They struggled, squirmed, fought-all of which required that the boys grab hold of those wriggling lithe, bodies and hold them-well, wherever they thought it best to hold them. So the girls squealed and squirmed and said, "You don't have me yet," while hands went all over their bodies. Finally the exhausted girl would say, "All right," and off would come a half slip, or something of the sort.
When the girls got down to one remaining garment apiece, when they had only the panties separating them from total nakedness, there seemed to be an unspoken accord among the boys. There was something truly enchanting about the sight of these bare-breasted beauties running along the corridors, across the basketball floor, into and out of offices-beauties with only that one skimpy garment; beauties with boobies bouncing freely; beauties who seemed to delight in the uninhibited near-nakedness, running, skipping, squealing; beauties who could be caught, on occasion, and held-and felt.
Sometimes, the boys would stick to fooling around, holding them by the waist, butt-cheeks, or titties as the girls squirmed. Some of the boys set about pushing the panties down while the girls struggled, and the girls occasionally let them be pushed a little way down over their soft, bush twirly-whirlies before they pulled them back up and scampered away. But a few left the panties just halfway down over the twirly-whirlies and the little tufts peeking out were a more inviting and intriguing sight than stark nakedness would have been.
Marsha jumped into the swimming pool to get a-way from Joe, the starting pitcher in the forthcoming game. And when she showed no signs of coming out, Joe calmly took off his clothes, piece by piece, down to his shorts, and dove in after her. Now the water was splashed this way and that as Joe almost caught her, tried again, did get hold, lost his grip, and finally grabbed her around the belly. After briefly exploring upward, down went his hands to roll off her skimpies-when again she broke free of his grasp.
But when he got her again, instead of squirming as she had before, she touched him where he was most sensitive, where he would go weak if she touched him for very long.
They were in shallow water now and standing almost still, in contrast to their former friskiness. He was behind her. He had drawn her panties down a-round her thighs and now his hands were on her hips, her belly, her parsely patch, while she held him loosely where he noticed it most, and even stroked him a little.
"Marsha ... " he said weakly. "Yes, Joe."
"I need my strength for tomorrow."
"I know, Joe. So pull up my panties and let me go." His hands stayed where they were, and now he said even more weakly, "i can't."
"Why can't you, Joe?"
"I don't know." Now he ran his hands up over her bare skin, cupped her breasts in his hands, ran his thumbs over the nipples. All the while, Marsha was stroking him gently, and he felt himself grow prickly-warm all over, even in the cold water. "Marsha," he whispered.
"Yes, Joe."
"It's up to the girl to stop."
"Why Joe?"
"I dunno. Boys are supposed to be this way. It's so good. Girls are supposed to stop us."
He was pressed close to her from behind, rubbing his hand over the curvy-soft areas of her bare skin, and she, too, felt prickly-warm all over. So she asked, "Can't it be just as good for a girl?"
"I don't know. I hadn't thought of it. But if you don't stop soon-"
He didn't finish. "What then, Joe?"
He was groaning now, and said softly, "Marsha, if you don't stop soon, I won't have any strength left to pitch tomorrow."
"Then pull up my panties and let go, and you'll be all right."
For answer, he only clasped her tight suddenly-one hand and arm across her boobs, one hand on her parsely patch-and yelled out, "MARSHALL"
Too late.
Up on the top floor, Carrie had been cornered by Mark, the third baseman. Now Carrie wasn't one of the original girls of the pep squad, and it was just possible that she had volunteered for the night's festivities more out of expectation of a little sex play than out of school spirit, and it was just possible that she hadn't bothered to tell anybody.
So when Carrie discovered the plush office that happened to be Miss Jellicoe's, she went back in search of one of boys she happened to be attracted to (which meant about three-fourths of the team). Coming upon Mark, she acted surprise, then frightened of his overwhelming masculinity. And then, keeping just the right distance, she ran back to the plush office.
As she stood in the moonlight facing him, her panties rolled down to a little strip across her loins, she was a beautiful sight, and Mark stopped for a moment. He just wanted to tease himself a little, while he anticipated touching that smooth body, that soft flesh, running his hands over those knockers that sat so proudly straightforward and unashamed on her chest. How beautiful!! !
And now, as he moved toward her, she began dodging this way and that, pushing a chair in front of him or backing away. Her boobies were swaying and joggling so delightfully, that he wanted to prolong the game.
But somehow he did catch her, and the first thing he knew, she was ripping off hs shirt, saying, "Here, I don't have anything on, so why should you?"
And she was at his shoes and socks and trousers, and he said, "What the hell!" He hadn't expected this, and didn't know whether he was supposed to resist or not, but he didn't really mind.
Then she bounded away again, like a young doe expecting to be chased, and they faced each other. When" he caught her again, it was by the sofa, and they rolled over and over on it until--
Mark truly didn't know how it had happened. He had not consciously taken down his skivvies, nor did he remember anything about her taking down her panties, but somehow after the rolling about, he found himself locked tightly between her legs, being drawn stiffly and inexorably toward her, indeed, he was locked in more than her legs, he was held by that age-old velvet trap that always holds men, held tightly, warmly there, and though somewhere in the back of his mind was the hazy notion that this wasn't supposed to happen, it certainly wasn't the dominant thought. The dominant thought was-WHEE!! ! He felt himself sliding into an aura of exquisite delight, and he just let himself slide and slide and slide, and be encompassed by flesh, lips, hair, everything.
The boys lost their first game of the season. Matter of fact, they lost it rather badly, 12-I. Joe's fast ball didn't zip, his curve didn't break, nobody could hit. For Marsha and Carrie weren't the only girls who had carried the previous nights warm-up game a little too far. Several others had thought, "Well, it won't hurt for one player ... " So now, after the game, the girls confessed and vowed never to do such a thing again-at least not before a game. But that night was after a game.
They met in the grove, which was in the valley to the rear of the school. It was a balmy night, unusually warm, and none of the girls were worried about wearing too little clothing.
They dressed themselves in veils of sheer, gossamer fabric, but they each had seven veils, so no one could see through all the layers of cloth. And then, with most of the boys settled and a few scouts out checking to make certain they had not been followed, the girls went through their dance while the moon streamed down in all its fullness on the open glade.
The girls had deliberately choreographed this dance to be as beautiful and ethereal as possible., and deliberately not sexy. Oh, of course, they weren't unmindful that beauty goes very nicely with eroticism and that the evening just conceivably could end in a rather erotic way. Nevertheless, they wanted to make the dance as light and beautiful as possible for them to perform.
First, the girls each took off one veil, and trailing those behind them, they glided across the open space, weaving in and out among each other, the loose veils shimmering and silvery in the moonlight. Then those veils were wafted gently out to the boys, and the girls now each took a veil from another, and another intricate performance was gone through.
Then the boys were invited to remove the third veils, and the fourth came off soon after by the girls own hands, and then the fifth. All this time the girls were weaving in and out sinuously, chanting a song, and there was something eerily beautiful about the scene in the moonlight. And when the sixth veil came off and was trailed behind the girls, the beauty was enhanced tenfold. For the final veil was the sheerest of all, and though at times in the tricky moonlight it might as well have been a thick wool blanket, there were other times when it might as well not have been there at all.
. Which made the girls all the lovelier. They were there and yet not there, clothed and yet not clothed, their soft bodies and breasts schloogling nicely under each veil, their limbs, their faces and eyes ever-shining, beautiful, and almost of another world. Then that last veil came off-or almost off. But it was used to hide this or that, along with the aid of a hand or tree trunk.
Now the boys just saw a shining whiteness of long limbs and swaying breasts, dark patches flashing on bodies of pure whiteness. They sat entranced, absolutely entranced by the scene, and where previously they had whistled or cheered or yelled, they now merely sat open-mouthed and appreciative of the whole scene.
Then the, girls began picking off their men.
First to go was Ron, who had gotten three hits, and apparently hadn't scored at all the night before, according to the notes the girls had exchanged. Veronica took him, as might have been expected.
Carrie went up and threw her last veil right over Joe's head and said, "Gotcha!" and nakedly led the losing pitcher away, while the other boys stared enviously. She had come right among them and stood there naked as a jay bird, and they had been unable to touch her. But of course, their turns were coming. Not all of them would get in on the first round, of course, but they only had to be patient.
Veronica now took her beau to a nook encompassed by three trees. She had lined it earlier with soft grass. Now they lay side-by-side, clothed and covered only with the last of her veils. Everything had been so quiet and ethereal that there was no hurried, impassioned rush to reach the ultimate in delight. This would have been contrary to the spirit of the evening. Instead, there was a desire to savor the stillness, the quietness, the peacefulness of the scene.
So it was with a subdued passion, as it were, that they drew nearer to each other. They kissed lightly, ran fingers lightly over each other's bodies, sighed lightly and moved gently toward the final consummation. Even when they were interlocked, there was no mad rush, only a slow rocking. They wanted to savor every last minute of this evanescent night, wanted to feel themselves lifted gently and wafted about until, at last, the very nature of their bodies took over and carried them now to a hot fever pitch of excitement. Now, suddenly it was the frantic delight of their nakedness-of flesh, hair, lips, breasts, cock, pussy that held them and carried them on that cloud until there was a cloudburst.
Carrie, for her part, being perhaps a more earthy girl than Veronica and not so attuned to the stillness of the night, did not spend so much time listening to that stillness. She held onto her man, undressed him, and in a short time he was deep within her, humping her tightly, warmly, lovingly until they, too, were carried to ecstasy.
After all of the boys had been made happy, they, went down to the lake. The water was warm, and they splashed about friskily, playing tag and various other games they thought up. No one had brought any towels, however, so they had to dry themselves as best they could with their clothes. Then they went back to their dorms, marching along, singing a song.
The girls used better sense before the remainder of the baseball games. Sometimes they got the boys worked up just before the game, and sometimes the night before, and once they even pulled the trick they had pulled on State U. (well, they didn't mind a little variety, themselves), but never again did they deplete the energies of their boys before a game.
And the result was that MacIntosh U. finished off the baseball season with 12 wins and 3 losses.
Wheelock was feeling exceptionally good as graduation ceremonies were about to begin. It had been a good year for him. The football team had had a winning season, the basketball team had had a winning season, the baseball team had had a winning season, indeed, even the tennis team had come across. But of course, those weren't the only reasons he was feeling good.
He was happy mostly because in the past year he had discovered-girls I And it had been a delightful discovery for him. Of course, he was still beset with some notions that had been hammered into him by his mother. He had asked Miss Jellicoe to marry him when he didn't really want to marry her, but felt he was supposed to, since he had tasted the delights of her body. He hadn't stopped to think that she had enjoyed herself too (he was still a little naive); hadn't stopped to think that he was hardly doing her a favor by proposing when he really didn't want to get married.
At any rate, Miss Jellicoe had refused, and then had chided him about the sigh of relief he gave (he hadn't intended to). She did even better than that. She encouraged him to go out with other women. She even gave him pointers on how to act, on what he could properly do-even gave him a few pointers on which female faculty members were most approachable.
Wheelock hadn't believed he was hearing her right at first. He had always thought of women as predatory. He thought that once they got a man in their clutches, they would hand on for dear life, and he could not really understand why Miss Jellicoe was being so generous. It did not occur to him that Miss Jellicoe wanted to be free to fool around with other men-another boy like Jeffrey. So at first he was incredulous, but gradually he came around to listening to and following her suggestions.
So he made a date with Miss Willingham.
Now his mettle was really tested. This was the first girl who wasn't going to take the situation in hand for him. On their first date, they went to the big city 30 miles away-Wheelock didn't like the idea of escorting female faculty members around the college town-and after the date, she invited him in for coffee.
He sat on the couch sipping his coffee, making comments on what Miss Willingham said, though he didn't know later if he had made sense, for his mind was obsessed with one thought: Would she or wouldn't she? Should he or shouldn't he?
He put his finger inside his collar and craned his neck. Maybe she-wouldn't want him to try on the first date. Then, when conversation died and Miss "Willingham put her coffee cup down, he thought: Yes, this is it. He wiped his hands on his trousers-for they were awfully clammy-and was intending to make a move when he realized that he could hardly breathe, and his heart was thumping so hard against his chest that he thought she would hear it and laugh. He couldn't do it. The thought occurred to him that in two minutes he could be on the other side of that door and away from this painful situation.
That thought was fatal to his aspiration, for indeed, in two minutes he was on the other side of the door and away from the painful situation. He breathed a sigh of relief, felt a twinge of disappointment, and trudged on home.
Miss Jellicoe didn't berate him when she found out (though that is what she wanted to do). She only told him that even if Miss Willingham had not wanted a little fooling around, a pass by him-provided it wasn't rough or overly aggressive-would have been quite proper, and she could merely have declined to accept it without becoming offended. Indeed, since Miss Willingham could not initiate matters, it would have been only courteous for him to make a pass, and thus give her the choice of deciding what was to happen. Only a matter of courtesy.
Wheelock kept this in mind the next time he went out with Miss Willingham. Of course, it only made him twice as nervous, so even though they saw a movie, he couldn't have told what it was about. And when they sat on her couch, now drinking beer, he felt the blood pumping through his veins, and again his breath came short. Only this time he thought his troubles could be over in two minutes-if he would only make that pass.
So, screwing up his courage to the sticking point, he ran a hand across her waist, pulled her to him and kissed her. It was an awkward kiss, of course, being the first one he had initiated in many a year. And yet ... well, it settled into something very nice. When it got to him that she had not withdrawn in horror, had indeed responded and rather warmly at that, he began to relax a little. When they parted, he decided he wanted another one, and now being more relaxed, he was able to appreciate the kiss itself-the taste of her lips, the fullness, the warmth, and the touch of her hand across the back of his neck.
He did not quite know how to go on, but go on he did. He moved his hand up over her breasts and was surprised to find that she didn't seem to mind. (The thought that she liked it was even running around in the back of his mind somewhere, looking for a place to take root.) Her breasts were different from Miss Jellicoe's smaller, wider-spaced, more pointed-but just as delightful and enticing in their way. He could just picture them huddled inside those wide-spaced cups, and they were beautiful.
Now, feeling himself wanted, feeling that it wasn't such a dangerous venture to make an approach to a woman, feeling good all over, he began to warm to his task.
"Let's take a shower!" he whispered.
He was surprised at himself. He had never even made that suggestion to Miss Jellicoe, and didn't know he was going to make it to Miss Willingham until it came out. But it was something he'd often envisioned doing with a woman-and then, as he'd envisioned Miss Willingham's breasts, it just slipped out.
She didn't object She went into her bedroom and presently came out wearing a bathrobe. "Well?" she asked, walking into the bathroom. "Are you going to take a shower with your clothes on?"
"Gosh, no!" he exclaimed, and ran after, taking off a shoe here, a sock there, leaving them in a trail to the bathroom, where he now stood in his shorts.
"Take my robe off," she said simply.
He untied the belt, drew the robe over her shoulders, and let it fall to the tile floor. She was dazzlingly beautiful. Even if her breasts were smaller than Miss Jellicoe's, they didn't sag as much-indeed, did not sag at all-but stood out, cone-shaped and pert, wide-spaced and seeming to point outward. And further down was the light-brown, almost blonde patch that seemed to jut out from her body. But what impressed Wheelock most was the saucy way she looked at him, with her head cocked, as if to say, "Well, is there anything wrong with what you see?"
He was tempted to say, "Hell not" as if she really had asked, when she suddenly did ask, "What do you have those things on for?" and yanked down on his shorts. And now part of him jutted out. He giggled and tried to hide it, like a bashful schoolboy, but she pretended to ignore him and unconcernedly turned on the water and adjusted it to the right temperature.
They got in, and he soaped her over lovingly, carefully, taking her breasts separately in both hands, stroking, soaping gently outward to each rosette. But it was her whole body that dazzled him-that tall, slender body he soaped all over, belly, legs, fanny-oh it was all so dazzling to him. And all the time he was standing firm and sturdy, so much so that he was certain something was going to happen-especially' when she ran her hands all over his body, soaping him down-he was certain something was going to happen, but nothing did, nothing unusual, nothing except that he tingled with delight.
Then they jumped between the crisp, clean sheets, feeling frisky, exultant, happy, naked, as indeed they were. For a moment they were a bit subdued, and "Wheelock, with his hands on her naked waist, looked into her eyes (there was a dim light cast from the living room.) It all seemed too good to be true. He had thought this would take months (the availability and willingness of Miss Jellicoe seemed a special case), and that girls were always coy, resistant, demanding. But Miss Willingham had been so wonderfully open, honest, and mature about everything, it only increased his delight threefold.
Then they were rollicking about, frolicking about, kissing, biting, nuzzling, rolling over and over, now one, now the other on top, until they were interlocked where they were supposed to be interlocked, Wheelock pressing down, Miss Willingham pulling him toward her, holding him tight with her legs, her arms, caressing him, whispering in his ear. They rocked gently, slowly at first, then faster, each being carried up to a high pitch of excitement, and then one step further to the highest..
So it had been a good year for Wheelock. He felt confident now. He was meant for women after all. He could woo them, make them happy. He just hadn't known it was in him. Then, too, it was no small matter that the teams had done so well. The school was being talked about across the country, and his name was naturaUy mentioned from time to time.
So he stood supremely happy before the throng on graduation day, and he only regretted that he couldn't tell them how happy he was-or why.
He handed out an array of awards. There were several for Coach Bradley, of course, and the audience went wild with cheering. Big Ben and Murph also came in for their share of the praise, and just to cover all areas of sports, he gave an award to Miss Jellicoe.
Then the students got their awards. There were some for the scholarly students, of course, but the audience was most enthusiastic about the athletes. Lightbulb got one, and Charlie. Jeffrey got one, and ... well, just about everyone who had made a name for himself in sports that year. The audience thundered its approval. Certain girls received sports-awards, too, although no specifics were mentioned.
So it was a happy group that split up and dispersed when the ceremonies were over, and Wheelock could only be pleased with himself.
"Oh, President Wheelock! President Wheelock!" he heard a woman calling. "I just want to tell you how happy I am my boy came here. He just can't praise this university enough. He says there's never been another school like MacIntosh!"
"Well, well," Wheelock said in appreciation. She was an exceptionally good-looking woman-blonde, with bright blue eyes-and though if she had a boy in college, she couldn't be much under 40, she certainly had a pert, youthful look about her. "And your husband," Wheelock heard himself asking. "Does he think it was a good choice also?"
"Oh." She looked away. "Divorced. Two years ago. And now you must think I'm terrible."
"Not at all," Wheelock laughed. "And just to prove it, I'm going to invite you to dinner. Tonight."
"Well ... I really ... well ... "
Wheelock had the confidence to feel that she was hesitating only because she didn't want to appear too eager-and he was right. For then she came out with a bold acceptance: "I'd be delighted." here we go again, Wheelock, he said to himself as they walked away arm-in-arm. I wonder if Coach Bradley knows the whole story of the rise of MacIntosh Un.-and the rise of its president's prize.
