Chapter 2

Essentially what you have here at your service is a story telling cowboy with a masters in business administration. However, I can only certify one of the three aforementioned requisites that being Masters degree in Business Administration. The accuracy of my claim at being a story teller or a cowboy is still to be tested.

I say, pon my word, a mystery wrapped inside a mystery, covered by a veil has been set down and neither I in my guise of story teller or cowboy will reveal it. Those of you having eyes and wisdom dwell here now and those that divine the mystery shall be rewarded. In a small but satisfying way of course. Contact me if you think you know.

I suppose now we should embark on those magical years I dwelled amongst friends and found a true talent for sending a pigskin down the field with rifle like accuracy. Were it only true my mates had enormously large tacky fingers to capture those spinning projectiles with the grace of a flying mouse in total darkness as he or she leans forward in flight and plucks a juicy tidbit from the membrane stretched between his or her hind legs.

Unlike the bat who is too smart to rely on a small mouth to catch his prey, we puny humans insist on catching a thrown football with nervous, seemingly slippery digits barely able to hold a pencil let alone a projectile spinning at a high rate of speed having no handles with whence to grasp it.

Beginning in my sophomore year at college, I made numerous attempts to find glory playing football. My coaches were simply aghast that I could throw a football with such great accuracy and distances to boggle their little one tracked minds.

Hell I didn't even know I could do it until one of the coaches pitched me the ball and said, "now hold it this way and try to throw it to that guy in the green jersey down there."

The guy in the green jersey I threw it too, was some hundred or so yards farther away than the guy he meant and didn't know to expect it whereupon, the fool thing decked him. I looked at the coach and asked, "How come he didn't catch it?" He stared at me and said, "I meant the guy over there!" And pointed at a cherubic young man just thirty yards or so away.

They moved another guy paying attention into the former target's place and I threw a dozen or so passes and discovered the coaches had fallen in love with me. Then they had receivers running up and down the field and asked me to predict where they would be and have a ball waiting for them there. It was so easy to do I didn't understand their mindless gibberish when they tried to speak to me.

A great understanding came to me when practice was over and I was besieged by countless young dewy eyed darlings simply wild with the desire to remove their pantaloons for me and either suck my dick or fuck me till I was bow legged.

I had the distinct feeling there was much more to football than just rules, equipment, and plays. Yes indeed, it was the path to becoming fuck foundered.

I got used to the girls boldly offering their nubile young bodies to me for my pleasure. What I never got used to was discovering a few of my female professors desiring to take me in their arms and fuck me dry.

I won't belabor the issue with an abundance of examples but there were two that bear telling the story of. One was Professor Debra Howard and the other was the dean of the English department. Miss Howard was in her mid to late thirties and Miss Jameson was approaching fifty while I myself was a mere broth of a lad in his early twenties... Twenty with Miss Howard... Twenty-two with Miss Danielle Jameson.

Everywhere I went I was surrounded by friends and fuckees. My left arm was revered and largely unadorned, however, my right arm seemed to be continually in the grasp of a fuckee or friend.

I had been invited to the head coach's house to dinner one weekend when the blues and homesickness for Sweethome valley had struck me hard. Even the prospect of the head cheerleader fucking me into promised coma failed to rally me. I was homesick and I had to ride it out.

The dinner was swell and I forgot my mental anguish long enough to feed but as soon as it was over, the blues sank down on me again. The startling beautiful Candy Thompson, head cheerleader and voluptuous nymphomaniac failed to rouse me. I sat in a funk and watched tapes of a couple of the teams we would be playing.

I didn't look up when a soft feminine voice asked, "Is this seat taken?" It was next to my left arm and of course it wouldn't be... but being in the morose shape I was in said, "Naw... have a seat."

It took a few seconds for the warmth and feminine pulchritude to sink in but eventually it did and I turned to look into the most delightful green eyes sitting in a face of unspeakable beauty framed by the long golden hair of a truly marvelously beautiful woman.

I stared mindlessly for several seconds until I muttered, "Holy shit! Damn you're simply fucking divine!"

A brief smile flitted over her face and said sarcastically, "Sweet talk like that will get you anything you want handsome!" She waited until I started to speak then interrupted me saying, "I don't think so."

I was almost in tears then and I guess my lips trembled when she looked at me and said, "Oh I get it... you're homesick aren't you? Got it bad too."

I nodded yes wordlessly and continued drinking in her loveliness. She smiled and asked quietly, "Where's home?" I gulped, "Sweethome Valley Ranch Oklahoma." She bit her lip and asked, "Big family? Lots of brothers and sisters?" I shook my head, "Not as big as some, seven brothers and two sisters. Gobs of cousins, nephews and nieces though."

She smiled, "How long have you been here at UEC?" UEC stood for University of Edgemont Colorado. Famous for producing NFL players and physicists.

I replied, "two years... two to go..." she nodded, "Yes I know... what's your major?" I answered, "business administration." She nodded again, "Very good school here."

She said, "How long have you been homesick?" I gave a wry laugh and replied, "Too fucking long... three days and its getting worse." She grinned, "what's the record?" I thought a minute then answered, "A few seconds, minutes at most."

She gave a soft laugh and said, "that's the problem, you haven't been working your way into a really hard bout with it... I got a cure though... works for me anyway."

I blinked, "Damn! You get homesick?" She laughed again, "Not as much anymore but there was a time I suffered endlessly."

I thought a minute, "What's the cure?" She gave me an evil grin and whispered, "Racquetball... Cures damn near everything including terminal homesickness."

I blurted, "Bullshit? You mean the little ball against the wall real hard don't you?"

She chortled, "Yep that's it cowboy."

I swallowed hard, "Calling me cowboy ain't helping any... that's the problem, I should be home helping move the herd down to winter pasture."

We slithered out of the coach's party and drove uptown to a big building housing various sports including several racquetball courts. It looked easy on tv, but Debra ate my lunch and damned near killed me. Damn she was good and I was hooked.

Years later, I had a building put up just for playing Racquetball and now there must be fifty or sixty in the valley that play.

She took me back to my dorm and we said goodnight. I didn't think of fucking her, well I did but not really, I was too impressed with her brain and physical prowess.

It was a week or two later during a home game that I noticed her and waved. She smiled then blew me a kiss. Apparently she was with some other women her age who stood and waved at me and blew me kisses. The line coach saw and laughed saying, "Old hens find you interesting eh?" I nodded, "I reckon so coach."

I was leaving the stadium and saw her car with it's engine idling in the cold freezing temps and walked over to say hi. She smiled, "Get in. Hungry?"

My knees were up against my chin in her little sports car but she quickly drove me to her house where we hurried inside and she started preparing dinner.

We had steak, baked potatoes, green salad, and something she called Debs' surprise with cherries and pineapple in it. Was very good to my exhausted body and empty stomach.

We took our cups to the living room and settled on the divan in front of the fire place. She smiled, "Feeling better now?" I shook my head, "Yes ma'am, much better."

She was silent a moment then she asked, "Miss me?" I turned to her and said, "Well now that you mention it, I suppose I did miss you. Wonder why that is?"

She gave me a shy look then whispered, "It's a secret us thirtyish women don't divulge to young men just turned twenty... Lets just say, its kind of like a spell we cast on you and then when we make love to you... you're our slaves forever."

I think she was startled when I said, "Yes ma'am I know exactly what you mean! I've been under a woman's spell for a good bit now but she's gone and got married so I guess I just have to suffer."

She gave me a sober look and said, "Oh my! I can see it now... Who was she? A widow or a family friend?" I nodded my head, "both... she was having problems with her hired help and I fixed them for her. She was/is a very beautiful, fine, upstanding woman whom I'll always love I guess."

She dropped her eyes and whispered, "I hope you say that about me some day Wes. That kind of love is rare and worth suffering for baby."

I stood up and took her hand to help her rise then scooped her up in my arms and carried her to the bedroom. I stopped, "Which way?" She pointed down a hall.

I said, "I like to watch if you don't mind." She blushed, "I want you too honey! Makes me horny and hot to trot babe." I nodded, "Yeah, that's what Karen said too."

She stopped and looked at me a moment then said, "Lets forget the past when we're together, it's just me and you and no one else, no memories and no ghosts to haunt us... just us and a new beginning."

I leaned back as she removed her blouse and said, "Deal." I regretted agreeing later, she was in a league of her own which Karen could never be in. raising a family and hard work had smudged Karen some... Debra was fresh, sexy, and world class. Plus she could act like a whore when I needed it... Karen could never pull that off. Debra also had brains, big ones, Karen was just a housewife and mother with normal intelligence and abilities.

I'm not dissing Karen, just speaking honestly. I would have married either one if the chance had been given to me. Hell I was in love with both of them.

I've heard men saying women they knew who should be in various popular men's magazines, but those chicks never had a chance compared to Debra. She was a teenagers wet dream on the hoof.

She told me she modeled for a large New York department store while she went to college. She gave me a taste of how she paraded but she was in the nude for me. I had to laugh thinking what a crowd she would have drawn if she had done that for the big department store.