Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Group Sex, Interracial, Black Female, White Male, Safe Sex, Oral Sex, School,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A freshman scholarship student is trying to define his life direction and goals. While trying to figure out where he is headed, he enjoys opportunities as they happen. This is a relationship story, bordering on a romance with sexy stuff on the way. (There are chapters with a lot of sex and some with only implied sex.)
You do know anything can happen. What makes all the things in life happen? Fate. Opportunity. And in this case Youth.
As a college student in 1960, the United States was in a transition. Still recovering from the Korean War, in a little recession with the presidential elections approaching, I was a small town Florida high school basketball standout that was sought out for a scholarship to play at a “small” out of state, mid-west university. My only close full ride offer was from an in state big city school that I didn’t want to go to. The other two big in-state schools always seemed to find students from the Midwest to fill their teams. All my other offers were from mid-west schools.
I was a “go with the flow” type of guy. When confronted with life’s decisions, I was taught to let destiny lead the way. Whatever opportunities there would be, would become evident and all I had to do was “go with the flow.”
At that point in time, freshmen athletes were not usually given a whole lot of attention. It was usually just practice, practice, practice, and then wait your turn when they needed you on the varsity squad. This school however, had it’s own way of using scholarship kids. The first question from the athletic department was, can you play anything else besides basketball? I played baseball in high school and was even scouted by the big leagues and was told I could go fairly high in the draft. When the coaches heard this, I was immediately whisked off to practice with the baseball team. Baseball is a fun game, so practice is fun, too. I had a good glove, but only batted about 350, which was not a very good average for college baseball. Then came the football coach. My high school was very small and did not have a football team. The closest I had been to football was a few PE classes where flag football was played. The football coaches tried me at receiving passes, playing a little line backer and finally decided I should be a tight end. Occasionally I would be catching a pass, but mostly I would be used to block for runs and quarterback protection. Not very demanding; and it was neat the way the football guys were fed. Lots of food was available to football guys. That is important to an underage (just 17) freshman player.
Food is perhaps not more important than sex to a hormonally unbalanced youth, but a real close second. But then you have to remember that mores were pretty arcane in 1960. Prudes were abundant and virginity common and guarded. Anyway, I ate at the training table. I could have seconds and thirds when I wanted and as much milk as I could drink. The football coaches said I needed more weight, so I was asked to drink three egg malts a day. I wasn’t going to argue with that. They even had snacks whenever I wanted something extra to eat. And there was fruit and sandwiches available for us anytime we walked down to the cafeteria. The football coaches wanted me to maintain at least 185 pounds on my six four frame. The only way that could be done is with weight training every day and food, lots of food.
At that time in the school’s athletic program, football took second behind basketball. The schedule showed that because the football team only played eight games, beginning the middle of September, and with the last game the weekend before thanksgiving. College football was not as important then except if you were in a major conference school like a military academy or Notre Dame.
Meanwhile, the basketball coaches thought I might be putting on too much weight, so they had me running wind sprints constantly to keep me fit for basketball. You might not think that would be a problem for a young guy used to baseball and basketball wind sprints, but now the college basketball court was ten feet longer than the high school court. Obviously the coaches of the different teams did not work together with some mutual scholarship students.
Football practice was fun but mystifying if you had not played before. You run your ass off for two-three minutes, then sit around for fifteen. When you are working on a specific group of plays, you may run around for fifteen to twenty minutes at a time. But mostly you sat and were supposed to watch how the other players were messing up with your position.
I had walked back to the water barrel for a drink, and I had noticed a very attractive female on the first bleacher row. She was standing on the seat, and looked like an amazon with the sun at her back. She turned slightly, and gave a profile of a huge chest. This big babe looked directly at me and smiled. Oh wow! To a seventeen-year-old, big tits were important, really important. She was big, with lots of meat on her bones, tall, with large breasts. (Keep in mind the 17-year-old perspective.) She had wide hips with a nice rounded butt. I could not take the time to say “hi” at that moment so I went back to wait for my turn to do tricks for the coaches.
When practice was finished, I checked the stands and alas the babe had vanished. Oh well, perhaps another day.
Earlier that day, Jack or John F. Kennedy, a Senator from Massachusetts running for President of the United States, came to campus. He arrived at the football stadium in a large bus that he had been touring the state in while campaigning. Kennedy, his wife, and a couple of other notables got into a big limousine convertible and drove slowly around the track surrounding the football field waving and shaking hands with those who could get close enough.
He then went up on a platform in the middle of the field and spoke for over thirty minutes. As a seventeen-year-old, I couldn’t vote and didn’t have an opinion on who should be our next president. Even though I was a political agnostic, it was exciting to be in a crowd that was enthusiastically cheering and applauding.
When his speech was finished, he walked to his bus, drove around the track once more then left for his next campaign stop.
The daily football practices started to hold a special appeal, as the big, tall, large-breasted babe appeared each day, often with several other beauties to watch the boys at play. The coaches started to give me plays where I hit a defender off the line then ran diagonally across the field as a supposed receiver. The only time I was to be thrown the ball was when the wide end or split end was covered. We actually practiced the play with me receiving the ball, cool. A football is easy to catch, a lot easier than a basketball thrown your direction with speed. Football players will argue about that, but let them get in a tight basketball game when your forward or fellow guard pushes a ball at you without looking. You have to feel it coming, receive it, dribble once or twice, knock some guy on his ass, and then either pass it off or lay it up. That was a hell of a lot tougher than catching an oblong ball and holding on to it while some jerk tries to cut you in two.
Amazingly the next Saturday on the second play of a real game the stupid coaches called me to go across the field. No sweat, I put a defensive back on his butt the way I was taught, then ran across the field with my right hand up. The idiot quarterback couldn’t see the wide-open split end down the field so he threw the ball to me. Easy catch. I took a step, planted my left foot then turned up field to run as hard as I could. All I knew was to go as hard as I could toward the end zone. The other team’s players kept hitting me but not in the legs, so I kept my legs moving until there was too much weight, and then I collapsed. The quarterback actually helped me up from the ground, cool. He was a senior. I was a freshman. That was really cool. We ran a couple of running plays then they called my number again to go across the field. The guy guarding me was right at the line so he was easy to bump hard. I ran across the field thinking that I was a diversion but all of a sudden the ball was in my hands. Again, I planted my foot and ran like hell toward the goal. It was only a couple of yards, but wonder of wonders, I scored. I didn’t know what to do with the ball so I just dropped it at the back line and ran to the position I was assigned to for special teams. Guys were slapping me on the helmet and back, yelling good stuff,
That game was my big deal in my college freshman year. I actually was thrown nine passes and caught eight. There was one that was at my feet and I didn’t get it. We won by 17 points. The other players forgot I was a freshman and were all very congratulatory to me. The coaches all gave me an “attaboy”.
The next week in practice I was a tight end and a wide end, which was probably closer to a split end. Anyway, there were about five plays where I did something to be able to be thrown the ball. We practiced ball handling where I held on to the ball while all the defensive guys used their fingernails to try to rake the ball out of my hands along with the skin on my wrists. Not cool. They never did get it away from me as I was used to jump balls on the basketball court.
That week in practice was cool, as the big, tall, large-breasted babe was there every day. I was too busy to go say hi to her but she did recognize me with a nice smile. Someway, somehow, I had to find out who she was and try to meet her.
My time was cramped even more as the basketball coach was having practices, getting ready for the non-conference games coming up in the early season. He was excusing me because of football, but I don’t think he liked it.
This week the other presidential candidate, Richard Nixon, showed up for his campaign speech. This happened to be the guy who lost the election later that year and just this campaign stop probably told the story as to why he lost. Kennedy had arrived in a bus campaigning at small towns everywhere. Nixon showed up riding in a helicopter after arriving at a nearby airport. Kennedy rode around the track in a convertible with his attractive wife shaking hands with many. Nixon walked to the podium, gave a dry speech, got back in the helicopter and left. This stop for each candidate was to influence the entire Southern tier of the state. Easy to see who made the best impression, even on that university campus.
The next Saturday we traveled to Miami of Ohio. It was cold. I’m a Florida boy and not used to the cold. The guys were razing me about me trying to stay warm but I didn’t care, as I was too cold to worry about what anyone else thought. One of the equipment guys gave me his equipment gloves, which were funky looking, white with blue knit cuffs and little rubber black dots on the hands. Anyway, when we went on offence the first time, I was still wearing the gloves. Uh oh, the coaches called my number on the crossing route play. I hit the defender hard then ran across the field, the ball came my way so I easily caught the ball then turned up field. No one was in my way so I ran as fast as I could. I didn’t look back as I knew that would slow me down perhaps that little bit that would keep me from scoring. I made it to the end zone and dropped the ball continuing to run back to where I was supposed to be on special teams for field goals and point after kicks.
When I got back to the sideline, a coach got in my face instantly. “What the hell do you have gloves on for?”
“To keep warm sir.” I answered.
“Who the hell told you that you were supposed to be warm?” He yelled.
“No one sir.”
“Get those fucking gloves off and act like a man.” He yelled then turned back to the game.
The next offensive series was all run so I didn’t see any action, but my hands were freezing. Since I was a freshman, my jersey didn’t have any pockets for my hands to keep warm. Only upper classmen got the benefit of the more expensive jerseys.
The next series my number was called on first down. The ball was right where it should be, but my hands wouldn’t close fast enough to bring it in. I actually didn’t even feel the ball when it hit my hands.
The idiot offensive coordinator called the same play again. Again, I leveled the defender but the ball bounced off my hands. Benched.
The line coach and the receiver coach came to me and asked what was the problem. “I can’t feel my hands, they’re too cold. I need gloves or something to keep my hands warm between plays.”
“Put them in your pockets.” They said simultaneously.
“My jersey doesn’t have pockets.” I answered.
One coach grabbed my jersey on the side and pulled it too him. Yep, no pockets.
“Okay, get those pussy gloves you had on before and let’s see if you can catch a fucking wimp pass.”
The equipment guy gave me his gloves again and I was able to warm up my hands before the next series. The first two plays were running plays that made good yards then on a second and two they called for a T4go which meant for me to block my defender, run to the middle of the field then go straight toward our goal. The quarterback said he would throw on three so I would have the ball about on four. I blocked the defender hard then ran down the field going to the middle. On the count of three, I looked for the ball and it was almost to me. Easy catch. I was already near full speed so I turned it up as hard as I could and made it to the five before some guy wrapped up my ankles. Two plays later we ran it in.
“So you need gloves to play in the cold, huh?” The receiver coach asked.
“Yes sir.” I answered,
“Let’s see those gloves.” He held out his hand.
“Where did you get them?” He asked.
“Rick, the equipment guy.” I answered.
“Hey Rick.” He yelled.
Rick came jogging over to the coach.
“You got any more of these gloves?” The coach asked.
“Sure, a whole box full, most of a dozen.” Rick said.
“Get a pair on all the receivers right away and tape them to their wrists and arms so they don’t come off.” He directed.
Rick looked at me with a smile and shrugged then took off for one of his footlockers full of toys.
I didn’t see another pass that day, but the other ends saw a bunch. The gloves helped with the cold and we were able to hold onto the ball when it was thrown to us.
The next Monday at practice there were a bunch of new plays that we worked on. This time I was more than a blocking tight end. Actually it’s fun to put some guy on his butt on every play, even when he knows its coming. Actually it’s more fun when he knows it’s coming.
The big tall babe was back. She even waved to me. Awesome. I have to figure out how to meet her.
The cheerleaders were practicing their thing on the sidelines fairly near the bench. The coach had a senior tight end practicing my plays so I edged near the girls hoping not to be seen by the coaches. I got the attention of one of the girls and was able to ask her about the girl in the stands.
“You want to meet her?” She asked nodding toward the big babe.
“Yeah, the tall one, she’s here almost every practice, she fascinates me, she’s tall and big.” I said.
“You could do better you know.” She said.
“How so?” I asked.
“Look at us, most of us are white. That girl is colored. You can’t do anything with her.” She said.
“You’re probably right, but I’d like to meet her anyway. She really does fascinate me.” My Southern heritage was taking over. These Northern folks had a thing about colored that us Southern boys didn’t.
“I’ll tell her to meet you for dinner. You eat at the training table right?” She asked.
“Yep, thanks.” I said.
“Even though you’re a freshman, ask me out, you won’t be sorry. I’m tall and I like tall guys. From the way you look at me, you think I’m at least decent looking. My name’s Misty, and I live in the same dorm as your fascination does. Ask for me sometime.” She said patting me on the hand and walking back to her group.
That evening I ate while constantly looking for the big and tall girl. She wasn’t in the dining hall. When I walked out the door, there she was complete with a huge smile. I walked to her and held my hand out.
“Hi, my name is Chuck Johnson, thank you for coming to see me.”
“Hi there, my name is Sarah Williams, do you think it’s okay that we talk?” She asked.
“Sure it is. We’re just talking. Come on, let’s go to the student union and get a coke or coffee or something.”
“I didn’t eat yet so I need to go to my cafeteria for supper.” She said.
“Why didn’t you come in and eat with me?” I asked.
“I don’t know whether I’m allowed to come in there.” She said.
“You know, cause I’m Negro.” She said looking down.
“Nearly half the football and basketball team is colored, who cares.” I said. “This is just another dining hall that has some special foods for the athletes. Come on let’s get you something to eat then we’ll go to the student union.
I pulled her back into my cafeteria and walked her through the line. I got another tray and had some more food. You know me - the bottomless pit could always use some more food.
We ate and talked about her always coming to practice. She said her brother, Adrian, was the good junior running back and she was there to watch him. She even noted that I didn’t have many plays that I was used on that day.
After dinner, we walked back to the student union where I found out she was a sophomore and was probably going to become a teacher when she graduated. She was from a nearby city and marveled at me coming all the way up there to school. I told her it was out of necessity, because if I didn’t get a scholarship, I would be working in the fields at home.
We both needed to study so I walked her back to her dorm and went next door to mine. We parted friends, buddies. Her being my friend didn’t keep me from fantasizing about her gorgeous big build that night. Wow! Wet dream city.
At practice the next day, the coaches used me to practice a couple of blocking plays and a couple of open flats plays. During a lull after one of my blocking plays a very thick dark skinned guy came over to me. “You messin’ with my Sis?”
“Huh?” I responded brilliantly.
“She told me you two had supper at the training table last night. What you want messin’ with a little colored girl? That girl be my Sis.” He stated this using some slang accent that you could tell was a put on, but I’m sure he was a little put off having to talk to a freshman.
“Um first ah Adrian, your Sister isn’t little. She’s almost as tall as I am and probably weighs about the same as me.” Actually she probably outweighs me. I was getting wound up. “Second she is a nice girl and I enjoy being around nice girls. And most important, Sara and I like to have dinner with each other. If you want, come eat with us tonight, Sarah would enjoy that I’m sure.”
“Eat with you, a freshman? No way. Besides you two eat earlier than I do.” Adrian was going to walk away but turned back. “Just remember she’s my Sis and she’s a good girl. Keep her that way or we gonna talk bout it.”
During one of my benched periods I walked over to Sarah and confirmed dinner for tonight again. It got me a big smile from her, some frowns from the cheer squad, and some strange looks from several of the other players, dark and white.
I came out of my dorm and was headed toward the training table dining hall when I heard my name called. Sarah jogged up to me and said she had just walked out of her dorm and saw me. She had yelled so we could walk together.
At dinner, a couple of other players and a couple of cheerleaders came to our table to eat. Everyone was comfortable, as it became a larger mixed race group instead of just the two of us.
One of the football guys was also a basketball player and told me that there were workouts planned for Sunday and the next week. We would have to have the coaches’ figure out how to split our time. Our busy schedule was going to get busier.
After dinner Sarah and I walked back toward the dorms. I told her that I was going to get my stuff and head to the library, as I needed to get some reference material, and that I would study there, as it would be quieter than the dorm. She thought that was a good idea and asked if I would mind if she came, too. We both went in to get out study materials and I met her in the lobby of her dorm. She had changed from a skirt and blouse to a pair of jeans and a loose low cut top. She looked good: big, very big and good.
We sat at one of the medium sized tables so we would have room to spread out. She started right in on some of her work while I went off in search of the two books necessary for the questions from history. They were not due until next Monday but if I didn’t get a jump on it, the books would be checked out, and I’d never finish.
I was at the table reading when Sarah stood up to stretch. She said she would be right back and left toward the restrooms in the corner. When she came back, she leaned over the table placing her hands on each side of a book almost halfway across the table to read something. I glanced up and swallowed my tongue. Her loose top gaped open to display two huge dark breasts totally free of man-made cover. Oh wow! My gasp and choking noises caused Sarah to look at me quizzically. She looked at my bugged out eyes then looked down at her gapping exposure. She looked back at me and grinned the grin of “got cha.” The next thing she did stretched my chinos. With her hands still holding herself up while leaning over the table, she shook her upper body making those massive boobs wave all over the place. I choked. She giggled then sat down retaining her shit-eating grin.
Sarah smiled at me, leaned toward me and whispered, “Wha’ chu lookin’ at?”
I turned as red as she was brown and had to try to look back at my books.
We both giggled a bit but were able to get back to studying.
About nine we packed up to head back to the dorm. I watched closely to see if I could get another shot at those beauties but it was not to be. I had a difficult time watching her, as her breasts were so firm, it was as if she had a bra on. They would only wiggle and bounce a little as we walked.
On the way back to the dorms we took the long way through a little wooded section called the maze. The paved walkways curved back and forth and around through the area giving the walkers a pleasant private walk. There were benches along the way. Some had a couple talking or making out. We stopped at a bench set back in the shadows and sat together. Sarah sat close, really close, and much closer than I would have. She took my hand in hers and we just leaned together, sitting, feeling our feelings, and not talking.
‘This is strange isn’t it?” Sarah asked.
“How do you mean?” I asked back.
“You know. You white and all.” Sarah said.
“Do you mind?” I asked.
“I don’t but what about you?” Sarah asked.
“I hope you can tell I don’t care. I don’t see you as being any different. Just try to look at me the same as anyone else.” I said trying to figure out what to say about this thing that was presenting itself to us.
Sarah looked at me a little funny then asked, “How come you don’t mind being around a colored girl? What makes you different?”
“That’s easy.” I said smiling. “Where I grew up and lived, colored and whites get along pretty good. A lot of my childhood friends were colored. We played together, and went to the early school together. The city kids didn’t get along that well but the country kids, who lived near each other always have gotten along. There’s really not any open dating or obvious boyfriend, girlfriend stuff between them, but I’m sure it goes on.”
She looked at me a long time then asked softly. “You think we could be more than study friends?”
Oh boy. Didn’t see that coming. She wants more? More of what? Damn, how do I answer that. Honestly I guess.
“I’d like that.” I said turning to look her in the eyes.
Sarah did the same then put her big soft lips on mine. In a couple of short seconds we went from a gentle kiss to a firm mashing of the mouths. Then our kiss had her tongue flicking across my lips with her hand on my leg then to both of our mouths open and my hand on her waist with a breast lying against my forearm. We pulled apart panting and stared at each other.
Sarah gave me a passionate look. She let her hand graze across my very stiff dick then stood. “We better get out of here or I’m gonna make my Momma a Grandma.”
Her comment startled me. I stood but took her in my arms and gave her another toe curling kiss feeling her breasts poke into my chest and letting her feel my poker on her public area.
We walked slowly back to the dorms holding hands. She went in, resisting kissing me before going up to her room. I stumbled back to my room thinking I needed a cold shower. I took the shower and relieved the pressure twice. My roomy was still hitting the books but I didn’t have any trouble going off to dreamland featuring “Sarah.”
That weekend was homecoming weekend. There were several functions going on but I was required to be in bed by nine on Friday before a game. I saw Sarah at dinner and ate with her and Adrian. He didn’t particularly like the way she was sitting so close to me and leaning against me but he was being cool. On the way back to the dorms we straggled behind just a bit and stepped behind a giant oak tree for a quick hug and kiss.
When I went up to my room, Adrian was sitting at the study table. “You two been doin’ stuff?”
“What do you mean Adrian?” I asked, not even defensively.
“Sarah told me you had her fired up inside. She said she wanted you. So you two been doin’ stuff?” He asked again.
“Ah, um, not like doing anything but a couple of kisses.” I said.
“You feelin’ her up, fingerin’ her?”
“No, we haven’t done anything.” I said holding my hands up palms out.
“You will, if she says she wants it. You be careful. I love my Sis and don’t want her hurt. Don’t be doing bad stuff to her. Don’t be tellin’ her shit you won’t or can’t do.” He stood, looking down at the table, then dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a box. “You do stuff, you use these. Sarah don’t need no babies. Specially half white ones right now.” And Adrian stomped out of the room.
I picked up the box. One dozen Trojan prophylactics
Now that gave some help to my dreams.
New Edit by TexaninParis