Foreword: This story is based on a true event. However, I have changed the names and setting to protect peoples' identities, and have embellished it here and there for the sake of the story.
Operators of erotic story web sites, whether free or fee-based, have my permission to post my stories for public reading, provided that credit is given to "Hungry Guy" (email@example.com or firstname.lastname@example.org) as the author, and as long as you don't make changes other than fixing typos. Even beware of fixing typos, for I occasionally use local slang and dialects that may be flagged by your spell checker. Thanks.
It was a dark and stormy night. It was also one of the best nights of my life.
I started dating Meryl a few weeks ago. Meryl wasn't model material, but neither was I a jock. She was cute, with short straight black hair, big brown eyes, and a pretty face. I was a tall, skinny, awkward geek who was lucky to get such a cute girl to go for me.
She and I were in the same Freshman English class and when we discovered that we lived in the same dorm, well, it was natural that we always walked to class and back together. It wasn't long before I asked her out.
We both went to our rooms after class. My roommate was already there, getting ready to go out. I went down the hall to the unit bathroom to shower, returned to my room to change, grabbed my coat, then went down to her room. From there, we went to grab dinner at the puketeria. That's when it started to rain.
Although I had a car -- a van actually -- I usually took the off-campus bus downtown because I don't like to drink and drive. (Shhh! Don't tell my friends that I'm such a chicken shit.)
But with the rain and all, Meryl insisted that I drive. So after dinner, we trudged out to the student parking lot. We would have stayed drier had we just cut through the other dorms and academic buildings to the student center and waited for the bus and then got off the bus right at the corner and walked into the bar. But, well, try to disagree with a woman using logic and reason when she knows she's right about something, and see where it gets you -- right guys? We've all been there.
So we got to my van -- it was a nice one too. I had customized the back with carpeting, paneling, curtains, flip chairs, lava lamps, black lights, beanbags, pillows, and a small color TV and Nintendo video game (yes, we're going back a few years), and a small refrigerator. The fridge was even stocked with a case of Guinness that I hadn't touched since the beginning of the semester.
We got in and we were drenched and freezing. So I cranked the heat to max. I popped Alan Parsons Project into the eight-track as we left the campus and headed down Main Street to the Rathskellar.
We were warm and dry by the time we got downtown. We parked in the packed muddy lot behind the bar and walked through the pouring rain once again. By the time we got inside, we were drenched again. The bar was a large rustic building with booths all along the perimeter of the first floor, except for one wall where the long bar was placed. The middle of the room was a large open space for dancing, and was open to the second floor where booths lined the balcony. We walked up to the bar and I asked her, "What're you drinking, sweetheart?"
She answered, "I'll just have a Bud."
So I pulled out a couple of bucks from my pocket and waved them at Jerry, the bartender.
The bar was crowded and it took Jerry a few minutes to work his way down to our end of the bar.
"What're you having tonight?" he asked.
"A Bud for my girl, and a Coke for me."
"You're staying dry tonight?" he asked.
I would have loved to get wasted tonight, but like I said, I was too much a wuss to drink and drive. I answered, "Yeah, I drove instead of taking the bus. You know, 'cause of the pouring rain."
"Smart thinking, dude!" he said as he handed us our drinks.
Being a college bar, it filled up fast early on Friday and Saturday nights. Downstairs was packed already, so we wove our way through the crowd and up the spiral stairs to the second floor balcony where it wasn't so crowded yet and we could get a booth overlooking the dance floor.
We took seats in the booth and piled our coats one seat. We were facing each other across the table, and took each other's hands. The only problem with being upstairs was that there were about four or six huge Klipsch speakers handing from the ceiling cranking Van Halen, Motley Crue, Supertramp, Electric Light Orchestra, The Cars, Dire Straits, Lake, Journey, Foreigner, and other groups that nobody remembers any more. Since we couldn't talk, we just sat there holding hands and smiling at each other, and occasionally taking a sip of our drinks.
After we finished our drinks, the DJ started to play a slow song by Journey, so I yelled, "Want to dance?"
She smiled, and slid out of the booth pulling me by the hand behind her.
We made our way back downstairs and found a square inches of dance floor to squeeze into. It felt so good when Meryl put her arms around my neck and pressed her body tightly against mine as we swayed -- I wouldn't really call it dancing -- to the music.
The DJ played two more slow songs after that and I wondered if Meryl could feel my hard-on throbbing between where our crotches were squeezing it between them.
The rapture ended when Supertramp started wailing Bloody Well Right, and so we made our back to the bar. Even though there were now four guys working the bar, we had to wait nearly 15 minutes to get served. Meryl got another beer, and I got another Coke.
We slowly made our way back upstairs, but all the booths were taken and it was standing room only wherever we went. At least we found an empty spot at the railing and we hung out there watching the people below as I put my arm around Meryl. When she put her arm around me too, it felt so good to know that I was a wanted man.
That's when I heard, "Hey, duuuude!" from behind us.
We turned to see our friends, Al and Paula. After high-fives all around (jeez, do I even remember how to do a high-five?), the four of us talked -- shouted actually -- about our Psych 101 papers due next week, and how nobody understands Professor Vishnu with his accent, and how it sucks that the government wants to raise the drinking age to 21.
They then headed off to the bar, and Meryl and I went back to watching the action below us. That's when I caught Meryl looking at me, staring actually. So I stared back. Her head imperceptible moved closer to mine, and so I moved a little closer too.
I wondered. Did she really want to make out? Here in the middle of this crowd?
Our faces moved closer, molecule by molecule, until our lips touched. Suddenly, the crowd and the noise disappeared. I almost squeaked when I felt her press her tongue between my lips into my mouth. Of course, I reciprocated, and our tongues were quickly dancing together exploring each other's mouths.
When we came down from orbit, I had no idea how much time had passed. I just grinned at her with a silly smile, then I leaned closer and shouted in her ear at the top of my lungs, "I love you, Meryl!"
We both looked around to see if the people pressed up against us heard, but they didn't seem to, then she leaned over to me and screamed in my ear, "I love you too!"
Wow! That was the first time a girl ever told me that she loved me. Not knowing what to say next, I shouted back, "I feel wonderful! Want another drink to celebrate?"
But I was suddenly hurt and disappointed when she shouted, "No thanks! Let's go! Too noisy! Too crowded!"
I couldn't help agreeing with her, so I figured it was time to call it a night too.
We stopped at the booth we first sat at and rooted through the huge pile of coats that had accumulated on that one bench. Wwe got ours and headed back downstairs, but we had to stop in the restrooms before we left (oh man, restrooms in bars are filthy and they stink), then we headed back to the van. When we got outside, it was hard to believe that the rain could have got any harder or colder then when he came in, but it was. Once again, we were drenched and freezing when we got back to my van. I wondered if we were going to make out again when we got back into my van; but being soaked and frozen, I honestly wasn't in the mood (and if a guy isn't in the mood, I can't imagine how not-in-the-mood a woman must be).
So I popped The Knack in the eight-track and we drove back to campus where I parked in the student lot as far away from civilization I had been parked when we left. At least we were warm and dry once again, though that was about to change -- again.
I was about to open the door, but Meryl put her hand on my arm and said, "Can we wait until the rain lets up?"
"Sure," I answered.
The rain sounded like a freight train pounding the roof of the van, and I could even feel the van swaying from time to rime from the howling wind. So I started the small auxiliary engine that kept the battery charged and ran the heat and accessories when the regular engine isn't running. Then I climbed out of the driver's seat to the back of the van, dropped my coat on the floor, as did Meryl, and headed for the fridge in the back.
I opened the fridge and asked, "Want a beer?"
"Sure," she answered.
I grabbed two bottles of Guinness and scrunched into one of the beanbags. I shouldn't have been surprised when Meryl immediately sat in my lap leaning her shoulder against my chest as she took her beer.
The Knack started singing Good Girls Don't. and I mentioned, "Someone told me they curse in this song."
.... There is more of this story ...