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As I stood at attention looking straight ahead, he yelled in my left ear, “WHAT ARE YOU?”
“SIR, I’M A FISH, SIR!” I responded. The next question was obvious.
“AND WHAT IS A FISH?” he lashed out with the question.
“SIR, A FISH IS THE LOWEST SPECIES OF ORGANIC MATTER, SUBJACENT TO THE MOST FOULEST STENCH IMAGINABLE. HE IS MORE VILE …” I gave him the full dissertation without missing a beat. But for the rest of you, a “fish” is a freshman in the Corps of Cadets at Texas A&M University. I was a young man embarking on a new life, away from the childhood home I knew. After only a few weeks, my head was buzzed to within an eighth inch of my scalp, and my limbs were sore from running and “practicing” a class set of 83 pushups.
~ * ~
A noise startled me from my sleep. The dorm room was still new to me as I gazed into darkness from the top bunk. “Boom! Boom!” The noise grew closer and I began to discern yelling. “BANG!” Our door was hit and flew open. Light blinded me as the intruder yelled at us to get dressed and fall into formation with our instruments. The door slammed shut as if to punctuate the directive. The clock read 10:42! What the hell? I had been asleep all of 40 minutes!
Texas A&M is a school rich in traditions, and I was about to learn some more of them. Tomorrow was the first football game. It had been a hard couple of weeks, but we were primed for the Fighten Texas Aggie Band four-way cross-through at halftime the next day.
When I left home for college, I decided I would be socially bold. It wasn’t just that I was a virgin, I had never experienced a sensual kiss or embarked on the physical exploration of a girl’s body. Other than a few cheap shots, one dirty book I was caught reading, and a thorough review of my dad’s magazines, I was totally clueless. My hormones had been screaming for years, but nervous fear and a tight parental leash held my hormones in check. However, given the chance, I was sure I would enjoy figuring it all out. Little did I know, the first test of my resolve was about to present itself.
As we reached formation, we could see the entire corps of cadets was active on “the Quad” (ROTC dormitory area). I soon found myself marching with trombone in hand as the cadence turned all eyes toward us. My heart was pounding with excitement as we entered the main campus to a swarm of students ready to rally with us for this late-night event.
Suddenly, the crowd was mingled within our ranks. George, a fellow freshman trombonist, began talking with an attractive girl who seemed to want to “join” us for the rally. I didn’t know what that meant, but her tag along friend, Diane and I somehow paired up and I felt I got the better looker and the softer spirit. She was almost my height and said little more than an introduction between smiles. Her pale blue eyes were happy and her wavy light brown hair reached her elbows down her back and front.
“Hi! I’m Diane!” she tried to shout above the commotion and maintain her femininity.
“Hi! …” I tried to reply before getting cut off by a restart of the cadence. We were moving again. “BENJAMIN!” I shouted, and she nodded her head in understanding as we began to move again.
We played a couple of fight songs as we marched to the field that would later host the infamous homecoming bonfire. When we were finally standing in place, one of the upperclassmen pulled me aside to explain about “lights out.” The tradition was that when the lights were turned off, you were to kiss the girl next to you until the lights were turned back on. Anyone caught not kissing when the lights came back on would have a special “detail” the next day. I glanced at Diane, who could not have heard, and we exchanged smiles, almost grins. I didn’t know if she knew the tradition, but I was certain I was going to kiss her.
As we cheered and played various pep rally songs, my adrenalin was pumping as fast as ever. There were calls to rally and spirit-filled responses from the crowd. Diane’s involvement showed enthusiasm, but tempered with self-control. She wasn’t trying to put on a show, but she clearly enjoyed the school spirit. Finally, nervous anticipation was replaced by heart-pounding shock as the lights went out unannounced.
As if pushed from behind, I moved without hesitation. I switched my trombone to my left hand and wrapped my right arm around the slender waist of the beautiful girl beside me. There was no resistance as I pulled her body into mine. Our lips met as if planned and perfected. It was the softest touch I ever felt. The taste was deliciously sweet. The aroma was intoxicating as I entered a dreamy trance. Neither of us pressed any harder, but our tongues found each other and delighted to dance in the secluded darkness. My hand did not roam, but every point of contact between our bodies was a conduit of electricity. We just let the feelings course through us as the lengthy kiss worked its magic through the gentle touch of our lips and her clothed breasts Şirinevler escort against my covered chest.
The lights remained off. The kiss persisted and seemed to grow in intensity. I let out a soft hum and she purred in response. When the lights finally came back on, we didn’t even flinch. Whoops and hollers began to rise in chorus, but it was outside our world and we continued in our embrace. It was the most wonderful experience of my life to date. Finally, I very gently pulled away and gazed into her eyes. My head was swimming with emotion and my smile stretched the limits of my face. She seemed just as pleased, and I continued to hold her close as long as our situation allowed.
George and I walked the girls to their dorm. They didn’t seem interested in letting us in, but Diane gave me another remarkable kiss that convinced me what a good time she had. I was floating about 10 feet above the ground and awkwardly, reluctantly said, “Good night, Diane,” as we walked away.
It didn’t dawn on me until the next day that I didn’t know Diane’s last name, phone number, or room number. I wasn’t even sure which of two or three dorms she lived in. For all I knew, we may have left the girls at her friend’s dorm, and she might live somewhere else entirely. However, classes and corps activities quickly distracted me and kept me so busy, I had little time to think about my apparent loss.
~ * ~
It was the following Friday evening when George and I decided to meander towards the girls’ dorms. As we entered their courtyard, we noticed a girl sitting on the windowsill of a third floor room overlooking the yard. She saw us too, and waived somewhat excitedly. Lo and behold, it was Diane.
While I hesitated, slightly mesmerized at my good fortune, George quickly took control. After coaxing her down, he convinced her to “go out” with us. I was the one with the car, and suddenly found myself the chauffer. She was wearing denim shorts and a yellow blouse with her hair draped around each breast like rivers running through valleys. Her blue eyes smiled and conveyed a tenderness I found very attractive.
As we cruised down a main street along the edge of campus, we couldn’t seem to agree on a place to stop. My Pontiac Grandville had seen better days, but it was still a smooth ride with some power under the hood from an engine upgrade. The front seat went all the way across and there was plenty of room for all three of us as Diane sat in the middle.
After a while, I was frustrated with not stopping, and the fact that George was hitting on Diane pretty hard. His lewd comments embarrassed me, and his groping hands made me jealous and a little angry. Diane didn’t seem to appreciate the situation any better than I did, and exchanged unspoken, eye-contact agreements with me on more than one occasion before she asked to be taken back to her dorm. If George had been driving at that point, I believe he would have ignored her request and taken us somewhere of his choosing, but I was in control now and didn’t hesitate to do as Diane requested. The night was a disaster as far as I was concerned, and I was ready to end it.
When the three of us stood at the entrance to her dorm, she certainly didn’t invite us in. George kept pushing, while I started to politely excuse myself. Before I could convince George to come with me, Diane started engaging me in conversation. She held me back with apparent interest in my high school, my first impressions of A&M, my love of the trombone, and more. I was slightly startled by the realization she was totally ignoring George and purposefully holding me in check. Even her back was slightly turned toward him. When he finally grumbled and started to walk away, I had to stifle a laugh. Diane looked after him with that “What did I do?” look on her face. When George was far enough away, Diane smiled at me and turned to open the door with her key. I felt a twinge of disappointment until she surprised me by grabbing my arm and pulling me inside with her.
I had never been in a girl’s dorm, and I felt like I was in forbidden territory. There were clearly feminine touches to the hallway decor and bulletin board. As we passed an open dorm room, I smelled a strong perfume that seemed to go unnoticed by my escort. I snuck a peek through the doorway, and was privy to the sight of floral patterns and bright pastels. While the two occupants were dressed, they seemed relaxed in their habitat, unaware of the passing presence of a male. As I turned back to Diane, I saw that she caught me letting my gaze wander. I opened my mouth to speak, but she put her finger to her lips and bade me follow her up the steps.
Diane unlocked and opened her door. With another gesture for silence, she motioned me into her dark room. The first sensory perception of her private home away from home came from the pleasant smell of potpourri. When she flicked the lights on and quietly shut the door, the room cam alive with shades Ataköy escort of purple, green, yellow, and a touch of pink.
“We’re not allowed to have men in the dorm past 10:00, and I didn’t want anyone to notice you come in,” she explained. It took a moment to process her statement as I looked at my watch. It was only 9:37. But then it dawned on me. She was inviting me to stay the night!
“When is your roommate back?” I asked, as cool and in control as possible.
“Oh, she’s gone for the weekend,” she assured me with a grin. Her back was against the door as if blocking my escape, not that she showed any signs of aggression.
Actually, for the moment, she seemed content to watch me assess her room. The head of the bunk beds was against the right wall with the foot of the beds coming out into the center of the room. The bottom bunk was neatly made, while the top bunk had slept-in covers tossed to one side. I walked around the beds to gaze out the window, hoping my casual movement would hide my growing excitement.
“You have a nice view,” I remarked as I noted we were nearly dead center in front of the well-lit fountain in the middle of their courtyard.”
“I sure do,” she responded rather suggestively.
I spun around and caught her eyeing my body. She followed my footsteps and proceeded to softly brush past me in order to sit in the windowsill and look out. Her back was against the right side of the window frame. “I like it,” she added, this time referring to the window view. There was a novel on the left corner of the sill that suggested she liked to read in that very position.
The chair to her desk was almost at the window, so I pulled it farther over to have a seat facing her. Her blouse gaped slightly and I felt invited to peek at her white lace bra. Her shorts barely covered her privacy as she brought her knees to her chest.
After some small talk, she turned more toward me and placed one foot on my chair. There was no remaining doubt as I reached up to caress her calf. I couldn’t believe how silky smooth her skin was. I looked up to gage her reaction. She seemed to enjoy my intense exploration. If she guessed it was the first time I touched a woman, it certainly didn’t dampen the pleasure she seemed to enjoy.
Diane slid from the windowsill and straddled my legs, facing me, as she sat in my lap. I let my hands ride a path up her thigh as she moved into place, but I didn’t think fast enough to direct my hands underneath her shorts. It was all I could do to fathom the offering being made to me.
The clock read 10:12. I was “stuck” for the entire night in a girl’s room … in a girl’s dorm. I briefly wondered how much trouble I could get into. My heart rate was climbing. As Diane settled in my lap, my hands roamed around her hips and she allowed me to pull her into a soft embrace.
I could not stop the pounding in my chest, as our lips tasted one another. Nor did I think my excitement could climb any higher, until I felt her hands undoing my pants between us; I couldn’t stifle a groan. I felt such action on her part gave me permission to explore more fully. I tentatively reached for her breasts, … tentatively, not because there remained any doubt, for there was none, but because I wanted to savor every instant of this virgin experience. I finally cupped her breasts delicately with my hands, and was momentarily frozen as sensations pulsed through the contact. I couldn’t imagine what direct contact would be like without her bra and blouse. I pulled away from our kiss just so I could add visual sensation to the touch.
My fingers nervously fumbled with the simple buttons of her blouse. I savored every revelation of her filled bra cups as they came into view. We stood together, and my pants fell even as I peeled her blouse down her arms. My member was rock hard and straining the fabric of my briefs, pulling the elastic band away from my waist. She seemed to want to see my shaft as badly as I wanted to see her breasts. I reached behind her in a hug to unhook her bra and she giggled. The back was smooth and I could find no hook. She gently pushed my shoulders back until she could see the longing in my eyes. Then she smiled as her fingers found the clasp in the front and suddenly the bra snapped open. I gasped, and slowly brought my hands up to pull her bra away from the most scrumptious sight I’d seen in my life. Carefully, as if her mounds could break, or handling them could damage her in some way, I pressed my fingers and then my palms against both breasts and moaned with the affect the contact had deep in my groin. When I looked back to her face, she was biting her lower lip and smiling with satisfaction.
I broke our silence, “I didn’t know bras could clasp in the front.”
“You -are- new to this, aren’t you?” she exclaimed. But she clearly wasn’t disappointed.
I stepped out of my shoes without thinking. She had to work a little to get my briefs over Bakırköy escort my turgid member, but I hardly noticed as all my focus remained on her breasts. I couldn’t get enough of them, and was impatient with the interruption caused by her removal of my shirt. However, upon realizing I was naked except for my socks, I gazed at the button of her shorts and realized I was behind in undressing my partner. I knew I was free to unveil that which I had never seen before. I unclasped the button and pulled the zipper down to reveal plain white underpants. I dropped to my knees and slowly pulled her pants down to expose her panties in full. Her legs were sooo smooth. I reached my fingers into the elastic at her hips and pulled her panties down. Her sex mound was graced with matching light brown hair that I found soft to the touch. I put my fingers against her fold, not knowing what to expect, and found they could be manipulated and pulled apart. My examination was like that of a child learning every detail of a new toy, fresh out of the wrapping paper. I looked for her reactions to each touch, and was raptured by every detail before me. It was a previously forbidden world, and I was ravished with hunger.
I watched her body as she climbed into the top bunk. “Come on,” she gestured. I followed with wide eyes and beating heart. I climbed into a position in front of her. For a moment, we each sat cross-legged, knee-to-knee, facing one another, drinking in the new sights of soft flesh and curves that begged to be touched and traced. Finally, I broke from staring at her breasts to read her face. She had been watching my intense focus and acknowledged my unspoken query with a giggle. I grinned and reached up to lift her breasts with a couple of fingers each. They were amazing. Each nipple stood straight out and was enclosed by a dark pink circle that I instinctively wanted to suck on. As I pressed my fingers against the full underside of each breast, they gave way like soft water balloons. I brushed my thumbs against her nipples and pushed them into the areolas. They were hard like pebbles, but they receded into the pliable breasts as I lightly pressed. When I allowed their freedom, they returned to their original positions, pointing right at me. I covered each breast with my palms and squeezed with my fingers. I moved my hands to the outsides of her breasts and pressed in a little, enhancing her cleavage. Her nipples seemed to poke out even more. I leaned forward and took a nipple in my mouth. My eyes closed as I melted into a dream.
To position myself better, I moved my legs out from under me so that I was lying down with my torso supported on an arm to maintain my mouth at the level of her nipples. She followed suit and we ended up lying next to each other. She disengaged her breast from my mouth by scooting down a little, and I straightened up so we were even with one another. Our arms wrapped around each other and we joined in a kiss. Her breasts were pressed against my chest and I was suddenly aware of how close my shaft was to her sex. We continued to kiss and caress one another.
After awhile, she sat up again and looked at my hard member. She looked back at me and I smiled. She took hold of it and moved my skin along the hard interior. I relaxed my head on her pillow and resigned myself to feeling. She squeezed a little.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
“No. You can squeeze it as hard as you want,” I informed her. “In fact, I don’t believe you can squeeze it hard enough to hurt.”
She tried. I groaned with pleasure as she felt my shaft pulsate within her grasp. She touched it, caressed it, kissed it, and blew on it. Perhaps she was experiencing the same joy of exploration I had done with her breasts. I hoped she enjoyed my exploration as much as I was enjoying hers.
It was nearly midnight as we lay in her top bunk having explored one another so thoroughly. Our lips were well acquainted, but as of yet, nothing had been penetrated other than our mouths. At numerous times during our foreplay, I experienced pain by the unsatisfied hardness of my member. It was a pain on the verge of pleasure, and I knew the final satisfaction would be explosive and wonderful. Having been hard for so long, I was more than ready to enter her womb and eliminate my own virginity. As I positioned myself between her legs during labored kissing, she broke the kiss and pressed my chest with her hands. Her face said “no” before she even spoke.
“We can’t go all the way,” she said with a soft grin. “I have a boyfriend in Chicago I’m very serious about.”
I was dumbfounded with disbelieve. After all we had been through in such a short time, she expected me to sleep with her all night without … how could she. While I admittedly had no experience in such matters, I was certain this was not the norm. I pleaded with my eyes, but held my tongue. She had given me so much already. I was “in love” … infatuated beyond belief and the ability to make sound judgment. How could she love another? So I hugged her while my shaft buried itself between her closed legs, only inches from heaven. In the back of my mind, I figured if I gave her enough foreplay, eventually she might give in. In the meantime, I would simply enjoy every inch of her body.
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