Chapter 1

We were a strange couple. She was a striking brunette with the looks of a fashion model, and I was just an ordinary student with glasses – one of those people who are called nerds behind their backs (and sometimes right to their face). How did we even meet, and what could possibly bring together two such different people? Like many others, we were briefly brought together by sex and alcohol. When asked how we met, I always gave a short answer: “At the clinic.” Back then, I was a first-year student at a technical university – sexually frustrated to the extreme, yet sadly alone. Things with the opposite sex just didn’t work out for me. And I’m not just talking about sex – even the chance for a simple conversation with a girl was rare. In my department, as well as in the parallel groups, there were almost only guys. At that time, there were very few girls studying at our university at all, and none of them wanted to date me. They were all already taken, surrounded by flocks of admirers waiting their turn. The competition for female attention was insane, leaving me not the slightest chance. Success favored the witty, the rich, the handsome, and the strong – and sometimes the older guys who had joined after the army. As you’ve probably already guessed, I didn’t belong to any of those categories.

Since then, much has changed. A whole crowd of students was accepted on a paid basis. The competition for the free (state-funded) spots dropped – mostly because the presence of a military department at the university had stopped being an advantage, for obvious reasons. Many more female students appeared, and they no longer seemed so arrogant and unapproachable as my classmates once did. The area around the university buildings is now full of bars and caf?s, where you can easily pick someone up if you want to. And every second girl, when you meet her, says that already legendary phrase: “Я с АСУ!” (which in Russian sounds like “I suck!”) She means that she’s from the ASU – the Faculty of Automated Control Systems. Of course, everyone understands perfectly well how that sounds and what associations it brings. A joke to impress a programmer by offering a suggestive pun and enjoy the reaction. But it only works the first time – after that, you get used to it. By the way, sometimes even girls from other faculties make the same joke.

But I digress. Let’s go back a few years, to the events I’m describing. Of course, I tried meeting girls outside the university too – but without any success. At the time, I thought the reason for my failures was that I jerked off too much. I did it roughly once a day – the bare minimum required to relieve sexual tension and distract myself from obsessive thoughts about sex. I believed that nobody wanted to get to know me precisely because I was a wanker, and girls somehow subconsciously sensed it. But – or so I hoped – if I stopped masturbating for long enough, my awkwardness and stiffness would disappear, and confidence and motivation would appear, giving me what I needed to finally get myself a girlfriend. And from time to time I tried to abstain from masturbation, but sooner or later I always gave in. The reason wasn’t porn – it was real, living women. A random brush of a breast in a crowded bus. The deep neckline of a cashier in the university cafeteria. Or even just the smell of a woman’s perfume in the elevator. All of that drove me insane.

Then I came up with a rule for myself: before jerking off, I had to make two or three attempts to meet someone – and only then could I do it. In practice, it looked like this: when the urge became unbearable, I went outside and, with little hope of success, started pestering random girls.

– “Miss, can I get to know you? No? Sorry!”

– “Excuse me, miss. I really liked you, can we get acquainted? Maybe go somewhere – like a caf?? No? Sorry!”

– “Hi! What’s your name? I’d like to get to know you! Hey, wait – let me give you my number, maybe you’ll change your mind later? No? Alright...”

Only after getting a few rejections would I, with a sense of duty fulfilled, run back to the dorm to jerk off. A ridiculous imitation of pickup, as a form of self-justification. Like, at least I’d tried to improve my personal life before resorting to self-satisfaction. That way, while masturbating, I despised myself just a little less.

You might ask: what about online dating? Without money or my own place, the best I could hope for was a short walk and a goodbye kiss with some random chick from Tinder. That only made things worse ... I admit, I’m exaggerating a bit. I did get lucky a couple of times at house parties, but still, I wanted more. I needed regular sex, and ideally – a normal relationship with a normal woman, not those rare, chaotic hookups with some completely wasted creatures.

In general, I thought I wasn’t getting any because I was a nerd. And I was a nerd because I wasn’t getting any. A vicious circle, like that famous phrase about women: “No one fucks you because you have pimples. And you have pimples because no one fucks you.” Only here, women were getting fucked – all of them, even the pimply and ugly ones. And everyone was doing it except me (if we’re to believe the stories of my classmates).

A little away from the main building of the university is a separate building for the Faculty of Economics. That’s also where the student clinic used to be. One time, I went there to get a certificate for the swimming pool. Sitting in line in the corridor, I gloomily glanced at the occasionally passing students. There were clearly more girls here than in our department, but still, nothing interesting. I was bored like this until she passed by me, walking fast.

This girl was special. Most likely, she wasn’t even a student. I had never seen such a beauty at our university! If she were studying here, one of my classmates would have noticed her and told the others. We all would have come here just to look at her – she was that beautiful! A slender, long-legged brunette, dark hair below her shoulders, a narrow waist. A thin white t-shirt clung to her large chest. And her ass – I couldn’t even call it an ass. It wasn’t an ass, it was the gates to paradise...