Freshman
Part I: High School Senior
by: Ross Mullins <ross.mullins@gmail.com>
mf, rom, hs

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Notice: The following story is heavily based on true events;
names and some locations have been changed. I have already asked
the involved people for permission to write my story, and they
graciously accepted. So, if you see someone that might be you and
I never asked permission of you, it's not you. But take comfort
in the fact you obviously also had an experience worth writing
about! :)

Disclaimer: The following story depicts sexual acts between teens
and college-aged students, and may contain profanity. If any of
these offend you or are illegal where you live, please stop
reading the story and delete the file from your computer.
Otherwise, I hope you enjoy the story, as it is my first of
possibly many. Please send me emails for thanks, tips (even the
"don't quit your day job" type), or whatever. I give permission
to republish this in any FREE way (no paid access, no age
verification, etc.), but if in doubt please email me.

Personal Note: This is part one of a multi-part series, and
contains a lot of backstory. Also, I prefer to pace my stories
like romantic sex, and this is only part 1, the foreplay stage.
Thus, it is somewhat light on erotica. While I feel the backstory
is important, you may wish to skip to a future part to get to
some of the good stuff. :)
***********


The first week of college is always the period when people start
coupling like the horny little hormone-infested
children-turned-adults that freshmen are. Not for me, though; I
still had my high school girlfriend. At least I did for that
week. I guess first, it would be important to know my history in
dating, as it helps explain a lot of the events that took place
my freshman year of college.

* * *

I never had a problem with girls in high school. I was never one
to date around, preferring a long, loving relationship to single
interspersed nights of passion, and soon realized this made me
appear very mature to girls my age, gaining me a lot of respect
from the opposite sex. My first girlfriend was a short-lived
internet romance in ninth grade; I think we were just beginning
to explore what love meant. We fell apart when my family had to
stop paying for internet access to maintain bare necessities.

My second girlfriend was my first kiss, my first real love, and
we explored everything with each other. Well, not everything, as
we were both religious and felt it was important to wait until
marriage. That's not to say we didn't do everything we could
EXCEPT the actual deed, though. We went to rival schools and had
a storybook relationship, if you can be so immature as to compare
Romeo and Juliet to two kids from schools whose football teams
hated each other.

My third relationship began before my second ended, if you catch
my drift. I was never proud of it, but it happened. I was working
the summer of my tenth grade year at a public swimming pool as a
lifeguard. One day my manager introduced me to my new
co-lifeguard, a petite strawberry blonde named Cindy. As far as
what I had interest in looks at the time, she was perfect.
Slightly shorter than me, hair to her shoulder blades with a
slight curly flip at the ends, just enough breasts to have a
handful, with a tight little bum to top it off. She filled her
swimsuit perfectly, one-piece as it was. I could even tell she
had a well-defined stomach under her suit, which for some reason
was a big turn-on at that period in my life.

Since we lived in a coastal area of Alabama, not many people were
bad swimmers; only the tourists would occasionally do something
stupid, and most of them were on the beaches. Our job was
relatively simple, and gave us plenty of time to get to know each
other. I recognized her as a trombone player in my school's band,
myself being in the saxophone section. Given the size of our
band, we didn't really know each other well. As it turned out,
she was also religious like myself, and was dating another guy at
the time. I had made it clear I was dating someone as well, and
we even double-dated a few times.

When school started our Junior years, we naturally hung out quite
a bit as we had become good friends. She was a great girl, and I
secretly started having major feelings for her. The kind that
made me nervous, because I knew eventually she would either
reject me, or I would have to reject my current girlfriend,
neither of which were options I wished to explore. I maintained
enough distance to stay faithful, but still get to know Cindy
better.

* * *

It all broke down midway through my junior year when each of us
were selected to be in the regional Honor Band, selected out of
the best musicians from the southeast. During that weekend, we
had had ample time to hang out alone in a new place, away from
all others, and in the hotel. It was innocent, but there was a
fair amount of flirtation from both sides. I made every small
attempt to touch her, whether it was picking her up in fun,
brushing against her ticklish areas, or even just putting my arm
around her when we explored the city, since guys tended to give
her second and third looks, and I felt it my duty to protect her.
She responded in kind, and would kiss me on the cheek, sending
chills down my spine every time.

Looking back, I should have ended it there. It was the point of
no return, as she already had me way past the lust point, well
into having extreme adoration and love for her. I had done the
same for her; after all, I was a southern gentleman, talented in
various areas, and fairly genuine with her, not to mention I had
a witty humor that I would later find out is pretty much all you
need when dealing with some women. I wasn't an athlete or male
model, but I had traditionally decent looks, and hopefully enough
personality to offset any deficiency there. My parents raised me
well, for the most part.

The part we had not expected to face was the eight-hour bus ride
home. We of course sat next to each other, covered by a blanket
since the bus was kept a bit cold. We talked for the first four
hours, and then it turning midnight, decided to sleep like the
rest of the people in our bus. At two in the morning, I became
lucid enough to realize our hands were getting closer and closer
together, even though Cindy also looked to be asleep. I also
pretended to be sleeping, my heart beating at the notion that she
might have feelings for me too. I did my part to position my arm
closer to hers, only to feel her make the final contact with me.

First, her fingernails softly made contact with my fingers, only
to feel her making one full soft sweep with them all the way up
my arm, just barely scratching the surface, sending a tingling
sensation from my head past my toes and far into the bus floor.
She then scratched lightly back toward my fingertips, where I
grasped her hand close to mine, softly squeezing it as a sign I
cared for her. I repeated the motion she did on me, lightly
grazing her arm with my fingertips.

Over the next two hours, that was literally all we did, exploring
each other's arms and hands with our own. I carefully memorized
every tiny feature of each of her fingers, determined to caress
every possible nerve ending she had exposed to me. Now, I had
already done a lot of things with my girlfriend by this point, so
hand-holding wasn't anything new. But this was easily the most
erotic thing I have ever experienced in my life, even to this
day. I had so much joy out of something as simple as her arm near
mine. It was more than physical pleasure, it was my first contact
out of what I considered to be true love, just an attempt for
both of us to show affection to the other.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, we had an awkward relationship where
each of us knew the next step; we'd each have to break up with
our current partners. She had only been dating that summer, so it
wasn't as difficult for her as it was for me. I had been dating
my girlfriend for well over a year, which is like a decade in
teenager years. I cared for her deeply and still loved her, but
now knew there were levels of love far beyond what I shared with
her. I finally found the courage, and cried alongside her as she
was a weepy mass in my arms. We were somewhat amicable, until a
few months later when she found out what had transpired between
me and Cindy. I didn't technically "cheat" on her, but I knew I
had cheated on her with my heart. It was my fault, and I accepted
the blame. But, I only partially cared, because now I had
something even greater.

As far as high school relationships go, Cindy and I were the "it"
couple in school. Our football team sucked, but our band won
awards, so go figure that the top band nerds were some of the
most respected people in school, at least equal to the jocks. I
was well known in the academic circles, and she was into drama
and vocal music, so we had most of the school covered as far as
friends went. We had an entire senior year together, attending
all the events seniors attend, and eventually graduating
together.

We were still religious, so we didn't go ALL the way, but we went
as far down the trail as we could without ever making that final
step. Like our first time with caressing and holding hands, we
learned to find extreme pleasure in the most unconventional
places. This did wonders in training me about how women respond
to stimuli. Of particular interest was that despite porn videos,
women don't need a penis to orgasm, and men need to learn more
creativity than the basic missionary thrust.

I remember one time I was in Cindy's backyard, and we had this
spot under a tree that was hidden by bushes. We used the spot to
make out quite a bit, so parents would never catch us. Looking
back, it's obvious that when we came in flushed and tired they
had to know what we were doing. But, they knew we were good kids,
so they gave us a little flexibility, I'm sure. Anyway, this
particular time found us at the end of her period, so she was
constantly wet and ready for anything, but still did not want my
fingers inside her, despite my assurances I didn't care. She
thought she might be clean enough, but didn't want to find out
otherwise with something of mine inside her.

That day I learned just how well-connected the female's nerve
endings are. We kissed, and I slightly nibbled the area where her
jaw line met her ear, only to hear a soft moan escape her lips. I
maintained my efforts there, planting soft kisses along her jaw
line, occasionally moving my lips to meet hers. My hands simply
played with her hair as I increased the pace of my kissing, until
I could feel her body start to tremble, ever so slightly. I
recognized it well, because it was the signal that her body was
well on the path to orgasm. Like I said, we never had actual
intercourse, but by this time I knew her in pretty much every
other way.

As I felt her body tremble, I moved one of my hands to simply put
a finger into her belly button, a spot I previously learned was
quite sensitive to her. I used my finger just as I would have on
her vagina, softly exploring the inside of her belly button,
making an occasional brush upwards where her clitoris would have
been. I kept kissing the spot on her jawline, giving equal time
to both sides of her face. Her panting increased dramatically at
the added stimulation on her belly button, making it obvious she
was about to climax, and hard. I felt her hips make involuntary
movements in the air, and knew it would be just seconds before
her release.

I dropped the tempo probably tenfold in order to build
anticipation, and it worked. At the moment I knew it would hit
her, I moved my hand from her belly button to apply a small
pressure to her clitoris through her jeans, causing her to buckle
to the ground as her climax hit. In each wave of her release, I
applied and reapplied pressure to her clitoris, increasing the
depth of each spasm as it overtook her. She had always gotten
extremely wet when aroused, so it was no surprise that the crotch
of her jeans had gotten almost soaked through, something that
both amazed me and annoyed me, since we couldn't just do this
anytime lest it be obvious. Wet pants are hard to hide from a
caring father.

As she seemed to be nearing the middle to end of her release, I
quickly repositioned myself to where my head was in her lap, my
mouth eagerly moving toward her wet spot, taking in her pleasant
sweet and musky aroma. I had developed good lungs from swimming
and band, and made full use of them to vacuum her feminine oils
from right through her jeans. I couldn't get them all, but
apparently the additional pressure gave her just the stimulus she
needed to continue her orgasm, giving her two or three extra
spasms as she managed to moan an "Oh my god!" I could feel her
heat increase as she produced more oils, which I eagerly vacuumed
out of her pants. I loved the taste, and it was not enough to
satisfy me like normal, but it would do.

When I felt her orgasm tapering off, I allowed her to lay back on
the ground, and moved back up to plant small kisses on her face.
Her orgasm had taken longer than normal, but was considerably
more powerful, and she was completely zoned out at this point. I
whispered an "I love you, Cindy" in her ear, and got an "ugghngh"
in return, but the look in her eyes said it all. I loved looking
at Cindy post-orgasm. Almost an angelic look, somewhere between
being completely satisfied, completely exhausted, and completely
loving.

Two minutes later, I got a "damn", followed a minute later by the
best kiss I have ever received, even to this day. We never quite
reached each other's tonsils, but it didn't stop us from trying.
I don't remember the whole kiss, but I do remember she lightly
bit my tongue which surprised me when it caused a bit more
pleasure than it did pain.

That day was the first I realized that despite I was technically
a virgin, I had probably a better idea of how to please a girl
than the kids in our high school who had sex all the time. I
spent the rest of that summer after graduation exploring just how
many erogenous zones Cindy had. It turned out she had quite a
few, and I enjoyed bringing her to as many orgasms that summer as
I could, as many ways as possible. She reciprocated in various
ways, but with men it's pretty easy; there's really just one
basic way to do things. She did learn some tricks to make it last
longer or more forceful, but she found out I enjoyed bringing her
pleasure nearly as much as getting my own. There's no greater
feeling than knowing more than a hundred different ways to bring
a girl to orgasm. It feels much like the Army Special Forces
would, knowing you have more power than most men out there, but
having to still appear normal on the outside.

Ok, so I got a big head about it. What guy wouldn't? She told her
friends, and word got around quickly (as high school rumor tends
to do), and if I weren't exclusive with her I'd have had all the
action a high school guy could have wanted.

* * *

Of course, good things in life only last so long, and we were
headed to college. Different colleges. We decided to spend the
end of summer together on a hiking trip in the Appalachian Trail,
during which there was much giving and receiving of pleasure, and
unfortunately, a shortage of baths to clean up from it. When it
was all over, I figured it would be best to have "the talk". You
know, the conversation about going to different schools and how
neither of us wanted to keep the other from having fun. I still
loved her completely, but knew she might want a bit of freedom.
We talked, and cried, and eventually concluded that we would try
to keep it going, but the minute one of us got held back from
enjoying college we would end it amicably. I was willing to do
it, but secretly hoped it would never happen.

The next day, we each left for college, her to the University of
Alabama, myself a bit east to Duke where I'd gotten a few
scholarships to cover the out-of-state fees. It was a both sad
and happy time for us. We were in love, but we didn't want to
face the thought that distance could separate us. All I have to
say is, naivety leads to some rocky roads.

* * *
... Continued in Part II ...