Teen Dreams Book 1
Chapter 13

Copyright© 2017 by ProfessorC

Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 13 - The story of David, a guitar playing geek, and Cal, his best friend and how their friendship develops into love. Book 1 covers the last two years of secondary school.

Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft   Teenagers   Consensual   Drunk/Drugged   NonConsensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   School   Cheating   Anal Sex   Cream Pie   First   Petting   Pregnancy   Slow  

My room at the hotel was comfortable, and the receptionist, Britte, spoke very good English, much better than my schoolboy German. She gave me a room on the quiet side of the hotel, away from the street. I thanked her took my key and went up to the third floor and found room 312.

Being Tuesday, I decided that Cal would be in lectures or whatever until late afternoon, so decided on a nap, then I’d go and scout the best way to get from where I was to the student accommodation on Ismanninger Strasse. I took a quick shower, and, once I was dry, lay down on my bed.

When I awoke two hours later, I dressed for the pleasant summer weather and went down to reception to ask Britte the best way to get to where Cal was staying. She suggested the U-Bahn to Prinzregentplatz and then walk back towards the city centre to Ismanninger Strasse. I thanked her and set off towards the station, armed with a free map of Munich.

I sent Cal a test ‘HI THEY WRKING U HRD?’ Ten minutes later I got a reply.

“YES, TIL 8 2NITE’ ‘BUMMER’ I sent back.

‘SPK L8R’ came the reply.

So three hours to wait with no idea of what do for three hours in a strange foreign city. Fortunately there was a park nearby, the Maximiliananlage, so I took a stroll through its gardens, down to the banks of the river Isar. It was a lovely, peaceful place, just what I needed after a long flight and as I strolled I drank in the atmosphere. Young couples walking hand in hand, stealing the occasional kiss, mothers walking their babies and grandparents, obviously looking after the grandkids while their parents worked. That and the warm sunshine, in contrast to the heat of California, made me feel good and relaxed.

I found a Schnell Imbiss, one of those peculiarly German street food stalls, and treated myself to a bratwurst, Nuernberger Art. What that meant basically, is that instead of the usual fat sausage I got three smaller ones, a bit like the sausages we get at home, but virtually all meat and no filler. That with tomato sauce was almost a meal. I was glad I’d turned down fries.

I smiled and said hello to people as I passed them and spent a very peaceful three hours just wandering the paths, looking at the monuments and just people watching. I was surprised at how quickly three hours passed, I looked at my watch again, it was ten past eight, and time to head off to the student residence.

The walk took me twenty minutes and I walked throught the doors of the residence at just gone half past eight.

There was a concierge on the desk in the foyer, and she smiled at me as I approached.

“Good evening,” she said to me in English, “can I help you?”

“Yes, please,” I answered, “I’m here to see Calista Warner.”

She looked at a register on the desk in front of her, running her finger down a column of names.

“Ah yes,” she said at last, “Calista Warner, second floor, room eight. Is she expecting you?”

“No,” I replied, “I’m her boyfriend, I’ve been in California working for the summer. I finished a week early so I thought that instead of going home, I’d come over here and surprise her.”

“That is romantic,” she said, “what were you doing in California?”

“Acting in a film, my first” I replied.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, “that’s cool.”

I smiled and headed for the lift in the corner and pressed the call button. The doors opened immediately, I got in and pressed the button marked ‘2’.

The lift stopped on the second floor and I stepped out looking for room eight. I found it after a while, it was actually numbered 28, and knocked on the door. It opened, and instead of what I expected to see, Cal, a young man, a few years older than me stood there.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, “entschuldigen sie bitte. Ich suche Cal? Calista?” <<Oh excuse me, I was looking for Cal, Calista>>

“Sie ist nicht hier, Sie ist beim Tanz in der Mensa,” he replied. <<She is not here, she is at the dance in the Mensa>> I made my way back downstairs, and asked the concierge for directions to the Mensa.

“It is not far from here, but why do you want to go there?”

“My girlfriend is at the dance there, I thought I’d go there and meet her.”

“Oh but they will not let you in,” she explained, “the dance, it is for students only.”

“Oh,” I said, the disappointment evident in my voice, “thank you, I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“Wait a moment, I am off duty in five minutes, I will take you there, you can get in with me.”

“Would you? You are very kind. My name is David by the way.”

“I am Gretchen, but you may call me Gretl.”

We shook hands and told each other it was nice to meet us.

It took us about fifteen minutes to walk to the Mensa, the student’s union building would probably be the nearest equivalent back home, during which Gretl told me that she was a cello student from Jena, and was working on the door of the residence, in exchange for a free room. Once we arrived it was a big glass and concrete building with a wide stairway up to the doors, once inside a staircase led up to the dining hall, and a few steps led down to two sets of double doors, which judging by the noise beyond them, led to the room where the dance was being held.

Gretl showed her student pass to the two men on the door and when she was asked about me introduced me as her cousin from England. I paid the fifteen Euros to get in and we walked through into a darkened room with a raised stage at one end on which a four-piece rock band was playing. The dance floor was crowded, with tables and chairs dotted around the perimeter. Some of them had people sitting at them, but mainly the people were all on the floor dancing. Finding Cal in this was going to be difficult. I thanked Gretl for getting me in and set off on my search. The band on the stage finished their song, some German number I didn’t know, and announced a thirty-minute break, during which the DJ would be playing records. The first one was an old smooching record, Release Me by Engelbert Humnperdick, the English singer from Leicester, not the German composer, and the crowd on the floor thinned out. I started circling the dance floor looking for Cal, but she wasn’t sat at any of the tables, I was beginning to think that I’d been sent on a wild goose chase. The music changed again to a fast number, and once again the floor was crowded. There was still no sign of Cal. I decided to give it another five minutes then go back to her residence and wait for her to get back. I carried on searching, exhausting every possibility, until I saw a deeper shadow over in one corner of the room. I walked over and saw an alcove with only four tables in it. Seated at one of the tables were four teenagers, Cal, another girl and two boys. Cal was leaning in, listening to what one of the boys was saying. I set off across the floor towards the table, then I noticed that Cal’s hand was on the table, and the boy’s hand was on top of it. It looked just like they were holding hands.

I stopped and blinked, thinking I’d imagined it, but when I opened my eyes, their hands were still in the same position. My brain took off then, wondering what the hell was going on. I arrived at their table and stood behind Cal’s chair.

“Hi Cal,” I said, cheerily.

She almost jumped out of her chair.

“David,” she squealed, turning to look at me, a look of absolute terror on her face, “I, erm, what, what are you doing here?”

“We finished the shoot a week early,” I said calmly, which was more than I was feeling.

I was wondering why my girlfriend was sitting in a dark corner holding hands with someone else.

“So, I thought it would be a nice surprise, to come and spend some time with you for the week. It looks like I was wrong. I’ll see you.”

I turned and started walking away.

“David,” she called after me, “please wait.”

“For what Cal?” I asked.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

“No?” I asked, “what does it look like? It looks like my girlfriend is in a dark corner of a student dance, holding hands with someone who isn’t me. Perhaps you can tell me how it isn’t like that?”

“David, please, can we talk about this?” she pleaded.

“Of course, come on.”

I turned back to the door and started walking out.

“Please David,” she was almost screaming, people were starting to take notice.

I turned around again, there were a good ten metres between us.

“David please, give me a chance to explain.”

“I’m listening,” I said softly.

“Not here, not now, tomorrow, when you’ve had time to calm down.”

“I’m calm,” I said, “angry, but calm.”

“So, who is he?”

He stood up as Cal started to walk towards me, and followed behind her. He reached me just after she did.

“Was ist los, liebchen?” He asked. <<What’s wrong darling?>> I answered him.

“Was ist falsch, Freund, ist, dass ich frage mich, was meine Freundin tut, genannt Liebchen von einem anderen Kerl.” <<What is wrong, friend, is that I’m asking myself what my girlfriend is doing being called Darling by another guy.>> I turned to Cal.

“So, liebchen, I assume that this is not your first evening out together. Or should I call it a date?”

She looked down at the floor, unable to meet my eyes. I just turned and walked away. This time I didn’t look back, mainly so that she wouldn’t see the tears running down my face. I left the Mensa building and headed west, towards the U-bahn station. I would have walked, but I was nervous of getting lost, or wandering into a bad part of town. It was half an hour before I arrived back at my hotel. My phone had chirped to tell me there was a text message almost constantly on the way back.

When I walked into the hotel foyer, I went straight up to the desk. There was a different receptionist on duty.

“Hi,” I said, “I’m sorry but there’s been a change of plan, I’ll be checking out tomorrow morning, could you make sure my bill is made up please.”

“Certainly sir,” he replied, “I trust it’s not a problem with the hotel.”

“No, no, nothing like that, it seems I missed the friend I was going to spend some time with.”

“Do you need to change your flights sir?”

 
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