I carried a torch for Keely Bishop.
She was a year behind me in school and rarely dated because her parents kept a tight rein on her activities. They were rigid fundamentalists who worried she'd discover sex and actually enjoy it. When they did let her out, she'd go out with me because we lived next door and went to the same church.
They shouldn't have worried. Keely knew her physical attractiveness was her key to the good life. Picture a blonde goddess. A Miss America or Playmate. A five six, blue eyed wet dream. That's Keely. She was angling for a rich husband and her virginity was part of the bait. That desire and her self-righteous religious upbringing molded her personality-cold, manipulative, a gold-digger in all capitals and flashing neon.
"You and I won't have sex because I'm going to marry rich and he'll get me as a virgin," Kelly said. "After I'm married, we can have an affair if you keep your mouth shut."
So she was planning to be an adulteress, too. Not an ideal mate, but all of her faults couldn't extinguish the flame.
We both were poor kids. She had looks. I had football. I went to the university on a full football scholarship with a small academic scholarship that provided some pocket change. When Keely entered the university, her parents remortgaged their house, cashed in their retirement, and her mom took a second job.
Kelly pledged Pi Phi, the rich girls' sorority. Her looks got her the bid. It was expensive but she thought she could find the richest man that way.
Keely pledging Pi Phi had an unexpected benefit for me. She introduced me to Susan Sims, one of her pledge sisters.
Susan was five three and small boned, a smiling, intelligent, dyed blonde, brown eyed hourglass of a woman with a rich daddy and an eager pussy. She'd make someone a great wife, if he could live with her "rich bitch" streak.
That someone could've been me, but I dumped her one night. I'd had enough of her spoiled brat theatrics. I left her seething in the parlor of her sorority house and went to the dorm. I'd only been in my room a few minutes when there was a rap on the door. When I opened it, she stormed into the room.
"You bastard! Nobody dumps me," she snapped.
She stood on tip toes to slap me and I made no effort to stop her. The slap resounded like thunder. She looked like she expected me to retaliate, but I began undressing for bed. She barked and shrieked because my silence made her more furious. I was down to my underwear and she was sputtering incoherently when I pulled her against me with her wrists held tightly at the small of her back. She was perfectly still except for the movement of her breasts against me as she breathed. Her big brown eyes stared up at me.
"You're one hell of a woman, Susan. Everything about you is perfect except you're a spoiled bitch and I won't put up with that. I guess I could spank you until you behave."
"Touch me and I'll see you in jail!" she snarled.
"Then what choice do I have except dumping you?"
I let her go, took off my underwear, and got in bed.
"Turn out the light on your way out," I said as I turned my back to her.
"Damn you, Peter Fisher," she screamed.
I didn't respond. She tried talking and cursing and crying and throwing my clothes at me. I didn't move. She was muttering when the light went out, but the door didn't open. I heard the rustling of clothes. When the bed moved, I stayed still.
She tried an old trick. She squirmed under the covers until my cock was in her mouth. I ate Susan's sweet pussy every chance I got and she enjoyed it no end. But she had refused to go down on me. I hadn't pushed. There would be time enough for that.
I rolled on my back and clicked on the bedside lamp. She slipped up to mount me.
"I want to cum in your mouth," I said.
She sighed. "Yes, Pete," she said softly.
Considering it was her first blowjob, she didn't do too badly.
"How do you like the taste of cum?" I asked.
"Well enough to do it anytime you want," she replied as she knelt beside me.
"Do you want to be my girl?"
"I want your permission to spank you every time I think you need it," I said.
"Go to hell."
"Get dressed and go home."
I turned out the light. She squealed in frustration and turned on the light.
"All right. I agree."
"Write it out for me. There's pen and paper on the desk."
"No," she said haughtily.
I turned out the light. Mumbling to herself, she turned on the light, went to desk, and shortly returned with permission, properly signed and dated.
"Come here," I said. She cuddled against me and I turned out the light for the last time. We fucked in the dark before sleeping in each other's arms.
We dated until the end of my sophomore year. By then, it was clear Susan Sims wanted to be Susan Fisher. I wanted it, too, but deep in my gut was a small flame for Keely that kept me from popping the question. When I didn't ask her to marry me before school recessed for the summer, Susan broke up with me.
Susan called me on the first day of classes my junior year. "I've got an apartment in Willis House," she said. "I want to see you. Could you please come over?"
When I arrived, she was dressed in a halter and shorts.
"You look great," I said.
"Thanks. Pete, I..." She wrung her hands as her face turned red. Finally, she looked me in the eye. "I'm sorry I broke up with you. Please take me back. I love you, Pete," she pleaded.
"I love you, too, Susan," I said honestly. We celebrated being together again with an indescribable display of sexual pyrotechnics.
Two weeks later, I broke my ankle in the first game of the year. It was no big deal except I'd be on crutches for awhile. Sunday after the game, when I hobbled into the cafeteria between the athletic dorms, a tall, rawboned girl with a shock of unruly red hair smiled at me. A chill ran down my spine. I got my tray and was waiting in line behind Brute Wyzerocek when I realized she was at my side.
"Hello, Peter Fisher. I'm Erin Sullivan. You look like you need some help."
"Thanks. I do. How did you know my name?" I asked.
"I know a lot about you," she replied mysteriously.
"I haven't seen you before."
"I'm a junior college transfer."
"Get your ass out of the way, Fisher," Alabaster Black snarled from behind us.
Erin helped me with my tray as we sat at a table where we could talk. She was interesting and intelligent, with big green eyes that flashed mischievously from a sea of freckles. After dinner, we went back to my room. We talked for another hour or so before she left for her own room in the girls' dorm.
I called Susan, who came over and spent most of the night.
The next night, Erin and I ate together again.
"Let's go back to my room," she said after dinner.
I'm not a cheater. I never have been. At the time, I didn't think I was cheating. While I wanted to fuck Erin as much as I wanted Susan, it wasn't that either. Something inside me told me that having sex with Erin wouldn't be cheating on Susan. I didn't feel an iota of guilt.
"I'd like that." I replied.
When I closed the door behind us, I took her into my arms. She came willingly, warmly returning my kiss as her body pressed into mine. I felt the hardness of her muscles under my hands and the softness of her breasts against me. We raced to undress, jumped on the bed, and fucked our brains out.
Erin was tall, long legged, and muscular. Susan was short and soft. Erin was an athletic challenge. Susan was giving. Two delightful women so different and yet both damn good in bed.
I successfully juggled the two of them into October. Erin made it easy.
"I'm not interested in being your wife, Peter. I just want to fuck you," she said.
Sometimes I thought there was more to her feelings than she let on, but I didn't ask. I didn't need to ask with Susan. She wanted a ring on her finger and I was close to giving her one.
I saw Keely at the Pi Phi house from time to time. She was "almost engaged" to Trimble B. Tomlinson IV, who was the heir to a considerable fortune. He was a snooty little guy with as much personality as a door knob, but he met her criteria.
One of the big events at the Pi Phi House is their annual Halloween party. Of course, Susan and I were going. I rented a Hercules costume-two pieces of leather hung from a leather thong around my waist, leather underwear like a Speedo swimsuit, and leather sandals with straps that came up my calves. Susan was going as Xena. Her costume, like Xena's, was a leather corset that narrowed the middle and accentuated the above and below, not that Susan needed it. She did look delicious.
We'd only been at the Pi Phi party an hour when she said, "Pete, this is boring. A friend of mine invited us to another party out in the woods. Let's go there."
"Who invited us?"
"A girl I don't think you know."
My heart stopped and when it started again, Susan was staring at me.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing. Let's go," I replied.
The drive was forty minutes. Susan and I talked about Christmas, when I was going home with her. We both knew I'd pop the question then. We talked about the upcoming games and Homecoming, about this and that. What we didn't talk about was Erin Sullivan. When I asked questions, she gave short answers and no information worth knowing.
How the hell does Susan know Erin was the question driving me crazy.
.... There is more of this story ...