Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, mt/ft, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Slow, .
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The continuing adventures of Beth and Tommy as they enter their senior year in college.
Monday morning and it was back to school—our last first day back, so to speak.
Since it was the last time we'd be celebrating the event, it seemed something special should accompany such a momentous happening, but all I could come up with was a giant yawn as I pulled my Jeep out of the garage.
I was early enough to get a great spot in the lot, always a good sign ... so far, so good.
Mr. Nordstrom met me at the door. "Ah, Tommy! Could you come with me? Somebody wants to talk to you."
"Sure, what's up?" I asked as we walked to the Institute's offices. Flashbacks to high school had me twitching a bit. I mean, it was the first day back and already I was being escorted to the office? He led me into the Finance office. Had my tuition check bounced? No, it couldn't be that, I knew I had enough in my account to more than cover the check.
"Miss Goen, this is Thomas Randahl. I believe you have something for him."
"Ah, yes, Mr. Randahl. This is your lucky day," she said as she handed me a letter.
A letter with a check attached.
"Um, what is this for?"
"Do you remember filling out the forms for financial aid your freshman year? Well, better late than never, I guess," Miss Goen said with a sheepish grin. "Somehow your application got lost. I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize. I'm sure it wasn't your fault. I made it through the first three years without having to resort to student loans, so I'm doing better than a lot of the other kids.
"Not that I'm going to refuse this!" I added with a grin as I folded the check and stashed it in my wallet.
Dad had been conservative when it came to money and had stashed away enough for both Kevin and me to finish school without any of the debt load most college grads ended up with—as long as we didn't spend too much on non-essentials. On top of that, my photo business had allowed me to pay for my tuition, books, supplies, coffee, and all the other miscellaneous stuff without even having to tap Dad's education fund. I felt pretty good about that!
I was looking forward to telling him about this.
The first day back was—aside from my unexpected windfall—pretty much what I expected. Some of my instructors I'd had before; those I hadn't I'd either met or seen around the Institute. The school was small enough that in three years I'd met most of the faculty.
After school I decided to stop at the photo shop. Since I was going to audit a video course Winter quarter. I thought getting a video camera before I needed it was probably a good idea. I didn't want to walk into class totally unprepared. The little bit of video I'd shot with the GoPro had been just enough to show me I didn't know what I was doing, and that I'd need something better than that little camera. I didn't want to spend a fortune on a tool I probably wouldn't use a lot and felt I could trust Joe to steer me in the right direction.
"Hey, Tommy, how's it going?" he asked as I walked into the shop.
"Not too bad. I'm starting my last year at the Institute and have a video class coming up this winter. Got any suggestions for a relatively inexpensive camera that will still let me do something besides running in dummy mode?"
"Oh, I think we can dig up something that will take care of you. Any price range in mind?"
"Hmm, I guess five hundred or less. Am I asking the impossible here?"
"Nope. We have several in that range," he said as he started pulling cameras out of the display.
An hour later he'd set me up with a camera that was perfect for what I was planning. On top of that I got it for about $400, including an additional high-capacity battery and a few extras. It wasn't a professional camera, but for what I needed it would work. It would even allow me to use my portable DVD player as an external monitor.
Now all I had to do was figure out how to use it. I knew just enough about video to know I was going to have to un-learn some of the tricks that had served me so well shooting still images. Contrary to what most people thought, video and still photography were two very different disciplines.
When I got home, I quickly threw together a sandwich and then sat down to unpack my latest toys. As soon as I had the goodies in one pile and all the packing in another I grabbed the owner's manual and did a quick scan to catch the highlights—mainly so I'd know how to turn off all the automatic stuff. I thought back to Photo 101 and the ration Mr. Nordstrom gave one of the other kids when she admitted to leaving her camera in Auto mode all the time.
I spent the rest of the afternoon learning how to actually do what I'd read about.
It didn't take me long to figure out that one of my regular tripods wasn't going to cut it for a video mount. I needed something mobile, something on wheels. Hmmm, if I mounted a pair of wheels on a bracket, added a ¼-20 bolt to fasten the camera, and put a long handle on it, I'd be all set. Sort of a video push broom.
Beth walked in and found me sitting in front of my computer trying to remember how to use AutoCAD so I could finish up a drawing for my new mount.
"Oh, oh, time to visit the scrap yard again! Saturday soon enough?" was her only comment when she looked over my shoulder.
The next morning was my first day in the elective Graphic Arts class I'd signed up for. The class was an overview on layout and type choices aimed mainly for those of us who weren't in the GA program but wanted a basic understanding of what happened after we'd taken the pictures.
Mr. Quast, our instructor, passed out a sample flier and started right in asking us for our opinions.
With me being first in the barrel.
"Mr., ah ... Randahl. What do you notice first about our sample?"
"Well, it seems kind of cluttered, with all the postage-stamp-sized pictures, and the type face seems too busy for the body of the text."
"You've got a good eye, Thomas.
"Anyone want to add anything?"
"Yes, Mr. David?"
"The print seems blurry," Anse said. "The print overlaying the pictures, along with the decorative font Tommy mentioned, makes the whole thing add up to something very hard to read."
A few more comments and Mr. Quast looked a little surprised.
"I'm impressed. The things you all mentioned do add up to a very poorly-designed piece. I know once most of you get out in the real world you're going to be concentrating on photography, with a graphic designer probably—hopefully—doing the actual layouts.
"One of the biggest problems with do-it-yourself publishing is it makes it too easy for everyone and his uncle to turn out stuff like this.
"Let's see where a few small changes could make a huge difference.
"Thomas, we'll start with you. I agree, too many tiny pictures draw the eye all over the page. Also, fancy typefaces like this should be used very sparingly. Maybe a one or two word heading would be appropriate, but no more. Also the type flowing over the different colors in the photography make any type hard to read. To top it off, even a slight mis-registration in color printing will cause the fuzziness you mentioned, Anse."
By the end of the session I had several pages of notes. As Mr. Quast said, most of us wouldn't be in a position to make any decisions on the appearance of the final product, but maybe, just maybe, we could have some input on the finished piece. I certainly wouldn't be proud to see my name associated with the sample we saw.
"For your first assignment, I want you each to redesign that brochure. You can use any of the images you'll find on the school's server in the directory for this class. Use as many as you feel appropriate and resize them to fit your design if you need to.
"I want to see your results next week." Oh, good—no rush.
The next day was my first self-defense session after the summer break. I had barely walked into the dojo when Andy bounced up.
"Tommy! You wouldn't believe what happened this summer!"
"Hi, Andy. What's got you so excited?"
Suddenly the younger boy looked almost guilty.
"Tommy, I know you said I shouldn't ever tell anybody about Nancy and me, but...
"Tommy, I saw Nancy naked! We rode our bikes out to an old farm that she'd heard about. We explored a little and found a pond, then we walked back to our bikes and I grabbed the blanket I'd brought along."
"Hmm ... Planning ahead, were you?" I kidded my young friend.
"No! Well ... maybe ... a little," he said with a "busted" look.
"Anyway, we sat on the blanket for a while. You know, just talking, and I kidded Nancy that it was too bad we hadn't brought our suits so we could have one last swim before school started. Nancy said there wasn't any reason to let that stop us, and, Tommy ... she stood up and started taking her clothes off. Right in front of me!"
"So what did you do?"
"Well, I couldn't just sit there, so I took mine off, too."
"And how was the swimming?"
"It was great! We just goofed off in the water, you know, splashing each other and stuff."
Oh, yeah, I knew about the "stuff" that could happen in a pond like that.
"But, Tommy, I had a problem. When Nancy got out of the water I just couldn't! I mean I didn't want her to see me like ... well, you know."
Oh, yeah, I knew. I thought back to that first night at Beth's and me holding my clothes in front of me. As if the ladies in question didn't know.
"So, what did you do?"
"I just stood there in the water."
I could see him turning red just thinking of it.
"Pretty soon, Nancy splashed back in the water. She waded over to me and just hugged me and rubbed herself all over me. I tried not to poke her, but she reached down and ... and grabbed me, and started moving her hand back and forth.
"But then I couldn't stand it any more and I just, well, you know."
"I'll bet that felt pretty good, eh? Even better when somebody else helps, isn't it?"
Suddenly Andy's ears were ready to combust and he just looked down at his shoes.
"I'm sorry, Andy. I shouldn't kid you like that. Did Nancy notice?"
"Yeah, I think she did because she got this big grin on her face and pulled me into another hug.
"And that felt pretty good too. I mean, I've hugged her but never naked before. Then we walked back to the blanket and just lay there until we dried off."
I'll bet they just lay there. I mean, what were the odds of no cuddling or anything in a situation like that?
"But I'm not going to say anything else, because I remember what you said about her thinking I was bragging."
It was a little late for that.
"Very smart. She'll appreciate it if nothing gets back to her from her friends. So have you been invited back for any more dinners?"
"Yeah, and I've remembered what you said about bringing something every time, but I think I goofed last time."
Well, Mom said I should bring over some cookies she'd just made and Nancy's mom told me I didn't have to do that every time."
"Well, maybe not every time, but now and then will remind her of what a nice guy you are."
Just then Kurt walked out of his office and it was time to sweat.
Saturday morning found us digging through aluminum of every size, shape and description. I thought back to my introduction to the world of surplus metal. Who knew there were so many different kinds? I also remembered spending the night before our first expedition, snuggled with my princess—with our parents' blessing, even!
With our purchases securely strapped to the top of the Jeep it was time for breakfast, a stop at a local hardware store for a couple of wheels, then to the shop to cut everything to size and drill all the necessary holes—all made easier by the availability of the right tools. A stop at Chuck and Bev's house and I managed to weld everything together. I thought back to my first attempt at welding and could only grin.
Back at the duplex I collected my reward and, after a quick nap to restore my creative juices, I mounted the camera on my wheeled wonder and took a walk through the neighborhood to see what there was to see, all the time with a big grin on my face. Beth's reward system tended to do that to me. Back home I loaded my first video footage into my computer to see what I'd gotten. Beth planted herself on my lap to play impartial observer and kibitzer.
It didn't take long to spot a couple of big drawbacks to my design. The biggest one was the fixed camera position. BORING!
"Tommy, maybe you should include an adjustable mount so you can vary the camera height. I know where you can get a good deal on one," she said with a chuckle. That earned her a poke in the ribs that had her levitating off my lap.
"I'll get you for that!" I threatened. "I'm thinking a single wheel might work better, too. That way I could sort of bank around the corners."
"And how about one of those hard hats with a revolving red light on top?" Beth said as she danced out of my reach. Wise ass. Just because I'd run into a few things when I concentrated on what I was shooting and not where I was going.
As I sat there modifying my original drawing, I thought back to the number of changes my original camera mount went through and could only let out a sigh. Looked like I was going through it again.
With my revised design done, it was time to do something with it. I printed a copy of the drawing, grabbed my original mount and headed downstairs to the "dungeon" as our little home shop was affectionately known. As shops go, it wasn't much—just a bench with a tabletop drill-press and some basic hand tools. Luckily, Beth had convinced me to use aluminum rather than steel for my first project and I'd stuck with the easy to use metal.
I was drilling holes for the single wheel mount when my lady came down to see what I was up to.
"How's it going?"
"Not too bad," I said, as I showed her the kludged together wheel mount. If I ever made another it wouldn't look like this one, but I'd learned my lesson involving the difference between a one-off problem fix and a ready-for-production product and wasn't worried about appearances. At least not this time.
"Lookin' pretty good. You want a hand?"
"Sure. I'm always ready for help."
As we finished up adding the moveable camera mount to the "chassis" I was again reminded how nice it was to have a friend to work with.
Yeah. I realized that when we were working together like this I'd started thinking of Beth as my friend, not my girlfriend, but more as just a regular friend.
A regular friend who could work circles around me in the shop.
Eventually—and with no blood spilled—we finished up my new, improved, rolling video camera mount. Now to try it out.
A quick repeat of my first try showed much better results. It wasn't going to replace a tripod or expensive boom mount, but for a different view of the world it did the job.
"Tommy, are you thinking of taking a vacation?" my lady asked.
Vacation? Where'd she get that idea from? Then I saw her holding the brochure for my first Graphic Arts assignment. I explained what Mr. Quast wanted us to do.
"Now that you point it out, I can see what's wrong. I thought it was just because I wasn't interested in visiting a senior time-share."
"Don't forget the popcorn!" Beth shouted from the living room.
"It's in the microwave. You want anything else?" I hollered back.
"Just you," she replied in that voice that told me I'd better hurry.
We were almost through Casablanca when Beth rolled over and stared at me, nose-to-nose.
"How come watching an old video like this is so much fun when we already know how it ends?"
"It's not the destination, it's the getting there that counts," I said as I reached between us and unbuttoned her shirt.
"I'd say we know how this one ends, too," she said as she bent down to bite my bottom lip. "Let's see how we get there this time." With that she stood up, took my hand and led me to my doom, shedding her shirt and bra as she dragged me toward the bedroom, leaving Bogie and Claude Rains to walk off into the night together. A beautiful friendship indeed.
By the time we got to our destination, I had managed to shed most of my clothes. (Note: pulling off a pair of jeans isn't easy when you're being led down a dark hallway.) I finished the job just about the time my lady fell back on the bed. The gleam in her eye was one I hoped I'd never tire of—because it would mean I was dead.
Ghost had been sleeping on Beth's pillow, but one look at us and he decided he'd probably get more rest elsewhere. Smart cat.
I finished ridding myself of my pesky clothes and started the long, slow crawl up from the foot of the bed. Starting with a kiss on her ankles, then her knees, then moving around to her hip, then her beautiful navel...
A healthy shove on the top of my head told me I'd missed a spot, so I reversed direction and soon had her singing my favorite song—the one with no words but plenty of expression.
Eventually, we came back to Earth. If I could have looked down at the tangle of limbs and linen I imagine it would have looked like a Celtic knot tied by a demented dyslexic on speed. My original intent after the movie was over was to spend some time on my brochure assignment, but exertion and exhaustion won out and soon we were both deep in the arms of Morpheus.
Sunday dinner was at my folks' house with everyone there except Chuck, who was still in Ohio. Bev told us that during his last call he'd passed on the word that closing on his mother's house would be next Thursday and they would be back that following Saturday.
"I'm going to be so happy to have him back. I'm getting tired of running the shop by myself," she said.
"Yeah, I'm sure that's the reason," Gail's mother deadpanned. Everybody stared at her. I mean, this was a woman who rarely displayed a sense of humor, let alone a risqué one.
Monday morning Mr. Quast was already in the room as we straggled in.
"It was interesting looking at your re-worked brochures. Some of you have an interesting eye for design. Others a way of, shall we say, bending the rules." He looked over the class, picking his first victim.
"Mr. David, shall we start with your work?" he said as he brought up a copy of his brochure.
Anse took about ten minutes to explain how he'd reworked the brochure, with comments and suggestions from Mr. Quast and the rest of the class.
We were better than halfway through the hour before Mr. Quast got to me.
"Mr. Randahl, where did you see anything about rewriting all the text for this assignment?"
"Well, I tried editing what was there, but it was just easier to start from scratch."
"And you thought a client would accept that?"
"Probably not without some explanation and discussion. But what was there was almost unreadable. What they had was the same information repeated over and over. It was insulting, thinking they'd think it would take a hammer to get their point across."
"Did you consider that perhaps that was what they intended? That repetition was the best way to get their point across?"
"I thought of that, but what was there was insulting in a 'see Dick and Jane' sort of way." Rumbles from the rest of the class told me I wasn't the only one who'd noticed the poor copy.
"As I said before," Mr. Quast replied, "I'd be very careful doing something like this to a real client. After all, you would have been hired as a photographer, not a writer or proofreader."
"I know that and I'm very careful how I approached the client with any suggestions."
"Just wait until you get out in the real world and see what kind of reception you get."
"I have been, sir, and so far I haven't had any problems."
"You mean you've done this with a real client?" He sounded a little surprised. "How much real work have you done?"
"Enough to pay for school. I've been earning money from my photography for over five years now," I replied. "And I had one client where I did redo one of his pieces and he agreed that my changes improved on what he had."
I was getting a little tired of getting preached at as if I was a rookie with no real-world experience.
"Well, maybe you've just been lucky," Mr. Quast said. A quick glance at the clock and he added, "It looks like that pretty much takes care of this session. I'll see you all next week."
"Thomas, could you give me a few minutes?" he asked as I got up to leave.
"Sure, I don't have another class for an hour."
"Do you know you're the only student who's ever done that? I guess you've once again earned your reputation for being a rebel."
Me? A rebel? Well, I guess sometimes I was.
"I didn't mean to upset things. I just saw a problem and tried to fix it. I was surprised no one else mentioned it."
"And I was surprised when you said you've been working as a photographer for several years. You meant you've been doing pictures for friends? Weddings and portraits, right?"
"Well, some of that, but most of my work has been commercial with companies in the area. I've earned enough to cover all my school and living costs." I didn't mention that I wasn't contributing anything toward rent. Living with the landlord had some perks.
"As far as the case I was talking about, I was very careful when I mentioned the text in his brochure. It turned out he had written it himself and admitted that what he had wasn't very good, but he couldn't afford a copywriter."
"It sounds like you're well on your way, Thomas. I hope you can continue with the success you've shown so far."
"So do I. So, am I in trouble for what I did?"
"No, not at all. The only reason I mentioned it was because you were the first student to try rewriting everything and it gave me a chance to warn the rest of the class of the possible pitfalls in doing so."
As I walked out of the room I turned my phone on and saw I had a message from Janine at the Pizza Palace. I wondered what she wanted.
"Janine? This is Tommy. You wanted me to call."
"Oh, Tommy! Thank goodness! We've got a special night for kids on Friday and the guy we hired to do pictures cancelled at the last minute, and since you're a photographer, I was wondering..."
"Well, I don't think we've got anything planned. This is for this Friday night?"
"Yeah. From four to eight. Can you do it?"
We talked for another ten minutes about what was involved. I was a little uneasy about working in a place full of kids, but Janine was a friend in need and I agreed we'd be there before four—with the proviso that Beth hadn't scheduled anything and forgotten to tell me.
"Sounds like fun!" was Beth's response when I told her. And here I'd been a little nervous about asking her to help.
Friday night found us setting up in a more-or-less quiet corner back by the snuggle booth. I'd opted to use one of the smaller painted backdrops I'd done rather than one of the bigger professional ones. Since Janine had mentioned she wanted to hang some of the Palace's posters so they'd be in the pictures, I didn't think my less-than-perfect backdrop would be noticed.
As far as the advertising, I didn't mind. After all, Janine was paying for the privilege of giving away the pictures rather than charging the parents for my work, so I could hardly grumble about it.
I'd decided to use a single umbrella with a LED light panel instead of a strobe. It wasn't exactly a studio setup, but it was quick and easy and would work for what we were going to be doing.
I turned just in time to see a young girl flying toward me.
"Sally?" I'd never seen the young girl without a walker or crutches and here she was walking—running, really.
She launched herself into my arms and hugged me like a long-lost relative.
I set her back on her feet and noticed three other girls behind her.
"Hey, guys, this is Tommy," she told them. "He's the best photographer there is!"
"Tommy, this is Sue, Tanya, and Tracy. We heard you were going to be here and I just had to introduce you! Tommy did that collage of me."
"That was you?" Tanya said. "Can you do something like that for me?"
"Not tonight, unfortunately this setup is just for quick pictures. But if you'd be willing to sit down over there so I can get everything set right I'll get a group shot for you."
Suddenly I had the four girls on the bench giving me every hammy expression they could think of, tickling each other, and generally acting like a pack of young girls. I did get one nice shot of all the girls together but it took a while to get them to settle down.
By the end of the evening I was sure I'd taken pictures of every kid in town, even those who didn't want one. Why did parents insist on getting pictures of pouting kids? Blackmail, maybe? I could just see some doting mother dragging out the family album and the expression on her son's face as she proudly showed his first date tonight's image of her scowling offspring.
My lady, in her usual efficient manner, had brought a pocket-full of my business cards and had spent the evening dropping them, and hints about family portraits, to every parent in sight. Family portraits weren't my favorite kind of photography, but they helped pay the bills.
Eventually we were done. I looked at the area around my stuff and could only think what a carnival booth must look like after the crowds had left. I'd gone through a ton of 5x7 photo paper and my printer was whining about low toner. I was just breaking down my strobe and umbrella when Greg and Cindy walked up, carrying little John in his car-carrier.
"Damnit! I was hoping to get here before you finished," Greg said. "We thought we might get a picture of John."
"Hi, guys! You didn't miss anything. This setup wouldn't have given you anything worthwhile. Give me a call and we can set something up. Get you some good pictures of the little one."
"Okay. It's time you guys saw our new place, anyway," Cindy replied. "Now that things are organized ... sort of, anyway."
I smelled pizza and saw Janine walk over with a pepperoni and sausage deep-dish.
"I thought you might be a little hungry after putting up with all the parents and their spawn. Oh, and I left off the onions," she said with a grin and a wink as she set the pie down. "Would you guys like something?" she asked, looking at our friends.
"Yeah," Greg replied. "But put onions on ours!"
With a laugh Janine turned back to the kitchen.
The four of us crowded into the booth we'd commandeered, with John in his carrier on a highchair next to Cindy.
"Well," Cindy said, "don't just sit there, eat already!"
Beth and I decided a hot pizza took precedence over anything else and made short work of our free meal. As we ate we caught up with our friends. Between work, school, and Greg and Cindy spending all their free time finishing their new home, we hadn't had a chance to get together since they'd moved—a few quick phone calls just wasn't the same as sitting across a table exchanging news and plans.
"You know," Cindy said, "it seemed like I'd just finished painting at your place and I had to start all over again."
"Did Greg help you clean up?" Beth asked with a big, lewd grin, remembering Cindy's paint-spattered boobs and the story of Greg's assistance.
We had almost finished our pie when theirs arrived. Janine kept our glasses full and it was almost closing by the time we were done eating and talking.
Food gone and everything packed up and in the Jeep, we were ready to leave when Janine pulled me aside.
"Tommy, we're thinking of doing a brochure and I was wondering if you could do the pictures."
"Sure, I replied. "Just give me a call and we'll set something up. Do you have someone to write the copy?"
"Oh, I hadn't even thought about that. Do you know anyone? Maybe someone at school?"
"I know a couple of kids in the Graphic Arts program. Let me check and I'll get back to you."
"Sounds great. Thanks again for doing this tonight. I knew you'd help us out."
We said goodnight to Janine, Albert, excuse me, Alphonse, and the rest of the staff and headed for home.
"I am in serious need of a good shower," I said as we pulled in the driveway.
"With a free back scrub?" my princess replied with a sexy glint in her eye.
"Oh, yeah," I moaned, and decided my gear could stay in the Jeep until the morning.
Taking a shower with my lady was one of life's great pleasures—even if it did tend to use more water than bathing solo.
My princess got out of the tub first and was waiting for me when I dried off and walked into the bedroom. The grin she was wearing told me I shouldn't expect to get a lot of sleep.
I stretched out on the bed and watched my princess as she got down on her knees at the foot of the bed, ran her hand up and down my leg, and started with her mouth—by licking the sole of my foot. Luckily, I don't have ticklish feet, unlike someone else who shall remain nameless.
As she moved to my ankles, I spread my legs and almost exploded as she worked her way up to my knee. As she headed north, I heard a guttural growl that told me I was in for a long night.
When Beth got to her destination, she lifted my pole and placed little kisses on the boys. My groan told her that her tactics were working. As her tongue worked its way up, up, and around her destination I couldn't stand it any more and suddenly her mouth was full and I was ready to die on the spot.
"Well, now that the preliminaries are over," she chuckled. She crawled atop me, leaving a hand in place to get me back in shape. Her expert ministrations soon had me ready and my lady lowered herself on me and I was in heaven—or a reasonable facsimile thereof.
It was a long night, but a fun one.