Michelle was a twenty one year old college student. She knew she was attracted to girls ever since she was a teenager. When she discovered masturbation, she would often think of girls as often as guys. She was fine with this but kept it to herself. She had a normal teen age life, culminating in graduating high school and going to college. She had a normal progression of boyfriends, because it was the socially acceptable thing to do. She lived off campus, with her friend Teri, they were both English majors.
The rain fills my consciousness, and I feel his lips on my shoulder. I pretend I am still sleeping; the cradle of comforting warmth there having lulled my senses, brought the world outside to a standstill. He takes a deep breath, his face still buried in my hair, and I feel my flesh quiver in response.
There's a faded childhood scar on her jaw. It shows in sharper relief in the flickering candlelight.
She walks to me, letting her cream chemise spill to the carpet. The beauty mark on the inside of her thigh winks at me as she crosses the room.
I had stripped and laid down on our bed earlier, as soon as I saw the lit candles and massage oils on the nightstand.
Did I have enough nerve?
After all, we were in my bedroom - just the two of us. We had reached a line. Do I cross it? It had taken a long time to get here as I stood at the foot of my bed with Brian holding a tube of lubrication in his hand he just found in my bedside table. He acted shocked. The question was he really shocked?
Beth sat on the couch, watching Lisa as she moved around the kitchen. It had been what? Ten years she thought. A long time, but Lisa still looked great. She swirled her wine, enjoying the aroma as the drink cascaded around the edge of the glass.
"You know you're not supposed to spin wine hard like that right?" Lisa asked laughing, startling Beth.
I walked into my Civil War history class on the first day of the fall semester. I enrolled in this class as a crip credit. My Dad was a Civil War buff and I spent my entire life hearing about the various battles, participants, what should have been done, stupid mistakes that were made, and endless trivia.
Grabbing her small backpack, Amelia stepped down from the bus, still ecstatic that her uncle had offered her the use of his vacant holiday cottage in the coastal resort town. It was the start of the University spring term break. The tangy salt air tasted of freedom as she stopped and sampled the beach view from the bus stop.
In those days, I didn't wear underwear. I had long hair down to the small of my back. I was in good shape, lean and muscular, a bike rider with thick legs and a laid-back demeanor. You probably know the type.
So a certain kind of woman often responded to me. A certain kind of man, too, although I'd never given that a thought.
For my part, here's what I liked in a woman: Natural, sensual. smart. Sexual intellectuals. Open and daring, although even if they weren't, I usually got them there pretty quick.
Not a soul in the long hallways of the University on a Saturday afternoon. I was trying to figure out where this office area had been. I opened doors on the sides, and found one leading to a cluster of offices which could have been the right place. I was probably going further than I should have, when I heard a voice behind me.
"Are you kidding me! Look George this remodel is already three weeks behind schedule...I don't care, I'm not going to wait another month to have the counters done. Find some new guys... more expensive? I knew that was coming. Alright, ...tomorrow then, bye."