Finding a Place
Copyright© 2002 by Don Lockwood
Chapter 1
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Sheila and Brendan are freshmen at Stanford. He's a brain, she's a jock. Warning: do *not* eat anything sweet while reading this story. You *will* go into sugar shock. And, yes, it *is* supposed to be this sweet and sappy, OK? *grin*
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic First Safe Sex Oral Sex Petting School
As I started unpacking my parents' van, I was filled with a certain amount of anxiety. Hey, who wouldn't? It was my first day at college. Stanford University, to be precise.
I'm Brendan-Brendan Carruthers. It had been a long drive to California from Chicago, but now it was finally done. Here I was, at Stanford-the place I had wanted to be since I was a freshman in high school. Of course, for most of high school I wanted to be anywhere other than high school-but Stanford was the number one choice.
I had gotten my key, and my room assignment, and headed up with the first batch of my stuff. I went to my room, and found the door open.
"Hey, you Brendan? I'm Jake, Jake Atkinson." I shook his hand. Jake was a very large human being. My parents came up behind me, and Jake introduced himself to them.
"You need some help?" he said.
"Sure. Thanks," I said. "You're all moved in?"
"I've been moved in for some time," he laughed. "Football players had to be here a month ago." Oh, shit, a football player. If there's anything I hate more...
Jake was cool, though, helping me and my parents get all my stuff in. I went downstairs and kissed my parents goodbye. They were crying. Hey, I was their only child, and here I was, going to be 2000 miles away. I didn't cry, but I was going to miss them. They were great parents.
I went back up to my room, and Jake was there, reading what I assumed to be a playbook, listening to music. "Hey. Your parents get off all right?"
"Yeah."
"Where are you from? I forgot to ask that."
"Just outside of Chicago."
"Shit, we're almost neighbors," he grinned. "I'm from Milwaukee."
"Milwaukee. Since you play football, you must be a Packers fan." He grinned and pointed at his desk. I hadn't noticed it before-an autographed picture of Brett Favre, the Packers' great quarterback.
"Are you a football fan? I take it you don't play, not with that body." It wasn't said nastily, which surprised me. I was tall, but skinny.
"No I don't, but, yes, I'm a fan. Da Bearrsss, of course."
"Of course. However, I'm not anticipating any autographed pictures of any Bears quarterbacks being your prized possession!"
"Not hardly. If I did have any, it'd be a linebacker like Urlacher. The Bears don't do quarterbacks. So, what do you do? Football-wise, I mean."
"I'm a linebacker," he grinned. "I was all-state in Wisconsin last year. U of W recruited me, as did a few other Big Ten schools, but I'm sick of snow."
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