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