Chapter 33

The Carson family's flight was an early one, to get the best fare. That day was not the actual first day of school, but registration day. After returning from the airport, Cal and Cheryl got through registration quickly, bought books, and were home well before lunch.

Home. Cheryl pondered that concept as they pulled into their parking spot. She felt the excitement welling up at the thought that they were finally alone. In some ways, she considered it her first real home. Very early in her life, she had realized how out of step she was with her parents. Each of her battles for ordinary rights and privileges had made the house seem more of boarding house than a home.

She was very pleased at the changes in Darlene, and happy that she could have a hand in bringing them about. Her mother was definitely more human than she had ever seen her before. But she could not honestly say that she loved her mother as much as she had come to love Elaine. And Cal - well that was how she defined love.

Because of her drive for a career, and because she was never certain how long-range Cal's feelings for her were, she had not let herself dream about a future together. His decision to join her at school had said more than words ever could, and she no longer tried to stifle the dreams. Their little love nest for the summer was absolutely the most thrilling thing that had ever come into her life.

Considering all of the nights they had spent together, it would seem that being completely on their own for an extended time would be no big deal. In terms of modesty, that was true. However, not having to worry about anyone else being in the house was a delightful revelation.

Cheryl was always a little puzzled at the strong attraction her body held for Cal. Most of her puzzlement was due to her modest breasts. She would be loathe to admit it, but they were a major source of self-consciousness to her. No matter how many times Cal assured that he loved them and showed it by his attention to them, in her mind, they kept her from being truly sexy. She rationalized Cal's apparent lack of concern about her breast size by comparing herself to his mother and sister. Maybe guys really did marry their mothers, as she had read several places.

Being super bright, though, her puzzlement did not prevent her from taking advantage of that attraction. On their return from registration, she stripped as soon as the apartment door was closed. The air conditioning in the apartment was working just fine, so it was not a matter of comfort. She didn't say anything, but her little smirk told Cal all he needed to know.

Darlene was a fanatical housekeeper, and even as early as their flight had been that morning, she had gotten up to be sure that she left the apartment spotless. Thus, there was no reason for Cheryl to do any cleaning or straightening. But she did it anyway, making sure that she was always in Cal's sight, and often touching him in some way. Whether she understood it or not, she would use his attraction to her to the max. Deciding that they needed lunch was another chance for her to tease him as they collaborated on sandwiches.

Even being male, Cal could not misread his lover's mood, nor could he fail to understand why she felt that way. Being male, though, he felt compelled not to make it too easy for her. He had watched without seeming to watch as she did her naked 'housecleaning'. As they made the sandwiches together, he joined right in the game, going her one better. At every opportunity, most of which were manufactured, he got a hand on her. When he did, he made sure the touch lingered sensuously.

He started with just her arm or her shoulder. The first time he touched her bare bottom, she made the obligatory protest, which the look in her eyes completely invalidated. The little wiggle and the shiver that sent goose bumps over her whole body did not give her complaint any more credibility. It just told Cal that his lover was near another of her sexual explosions.

Those episodes had been unbelievable experiences, but he had always felt like he was just along for the ride, holding on for dear life. He sensed that it was the freedom of their own place that had her so stoked, but he wanted to celebrate their first day of playing house just as much as she did.

Thus, Cal conducted an escalating arousal campaign. As they finished making lunch and sat down to eat, his touches moved to her hips and belly, coming tantalizingly close to her pussy and her breasts. As she stood right next to him to clear the dishes, he ran his fingers through her pubic hair. She kept it quite short and bikini trimmed. For Cheryl, the roots of that hair almost seemed anchored in her clitoris. Playing with her hair aroused her very quickly.

With both hands full of dishes, she froze as he ran his fingers through it again and again. When he gently tugged in a couple of places, she put the dishes down almost violently. She yanked him to his feet and had his cock out in the open in a flash.

Wanting to head off the explosion, Cal said "Let's go in the bedroom."

"To hell with the bed!" Cheryl objected. "We can always do it in bed with the door shut. I want to do it here. And in the living room. And maybe in the back yard. We don't have to hide it in the bedroom any more." With that, she bent over a chair with her hands on the seat and threw him a smoldering look back over her shoulder.

Satisfied that she was not headed for another fit, Cal decided that she had a very good idea. Taking just a few seconds to match her attire, he assumed, correctly, that foreplay was neither needed nor desired, and worked his way into her from behind.

Despite her concern, Cal really did love her breasts. They never caused a B cup bra any stress, but they stood stood so firm and proud that they always made his hands itch, even when she was clothed. He thought their shape was just perfect, and he loved the way she responded to any attention given her nipples. Like so many other places on her body, they were very, very sensitive.

In their many sessions of love-making, Cal had learned that it took a long time for vaginal stimulation alone to bring her off, usually longer than he could hold out. Working her clit while he stroked brought her to climax rather quickly. Teasing her nipples during intercourse took longer for success, but the finish was just as strong. Cal wanted to reward her for baring her breasts, so he worked his hands under both of them and began rolling and pinching the nipples.

Considering the state that she was in, it was a small wonder that she did not peak before he was completely seated within her. As it was, it took only a couple of minutes of nipple action before she uncharacteristically screeched and went into spasms. Her contractions were so strong that the chair began stepping rhythmically across the floor as she shook.

Her release was so rapid that Cal did not come. Instead, he stroked her hair and her sweat-moistened back, intermittently planting little kisses and mouthing endearments. If she could only witness herself in rapture, he thought, there would be no more worrying about not being sexy enough.

She was an athlete, and a very, very good one. At the same time, she was pleasingly feminine. Her walk was strong and purposeful, but her hips swayed as enticingly as the best runway model. She certainly had not adopted the 'walk like a linebacker' gait that identified so many of the dykes. Telling her how her body pleased and excited him, whether in motion or repose, was not something he forced himself to do.

"Does that take care of the kitchen?" he asked when her gasping had steadied into regular breathing.

"No way!" she exclaimed. Raising herself from the table and moving him back and out of her gently, she wrapped both hands around one bicep and pulled him to the counter, close to the sink. "Up!" she commanded.

After a little confusion, he understood and got himself sitting on the counter. He was barely in place when she swallowed his cock and began fucking her mouth on it with serious intent. Obviously, a blow job was always a great treat. Cal though, did not get them on a regular basis. He felt it was a bit demeaning to her, and only when she was clearly doing it out of her own enthusiasm did he truly enjoy it. Right then, he really, really enjoyed.

Swallowing was a further indication of the sexual high that Cheryl was on. She had only done it a handful of times. He did not even consider telling her that she did not have to do it. It was apparent that her actions were driven by something other than reason right then. She was certainly enjoying the ride, and he let himself get caught up in her euphoria.

This was much better than Cheryl's previous sexual explosions. Before, she had been in a true frenzy, barely cognizant of her surroundings. Now, she knew just what she was doing, and there was even a lightheartedness - fun - in her actions. For so much of her life, pure fun had been pushed aside by tension and struggle. It made him love her even more to see how delightfully joyful and spontaneous the unleashed Cheryl was.

Cal had figured out that he was privileged to share the little emancipation celebration of a truly awesome woman. He vowed to do everything in his power to make the celebration last all summer.

While he was still reeling from the force of his explosion into her mouth, she was scrambling back and forth from table to sink, clearing the tabletop. When the last item was removed, she leaped backward onto the table, threatening its somewhat questionable understructure. "Eat! Eat!" she ordered, scooting to the edge and raising and spreading her legs.

Cal's sometimes reluctance about blowjobs did not at all carry over to doing oral on her. A good eating out pleased both of them and he did not feel a bit demeaned by it, nor did she appear to have any uneasiness at all. An orally induced come or two made the ensuing intercourse just that much better. He did not need any such warm up. In fact, for him, a pre-coupling come served mainly to attenuate his arousal so he could fuck longer.

Intercourse was the main thing, after all. At least, Cal definitely felt that way. He could not avoid the slight twinge of selfishness when she used her mouth on him. Inside of her, though, they were connected, sharing, and communicating at the highest level possible. And the maximum amount of that taut, incredibly smooth body was pressed hotly against him. Since he had learned to keep going through the sensitivity of a first come, their times joined together had become even more wonderful.

Right now, though, her orgasms were the goal, and as he recovered his strength, he gave her a good ride through two of them, one a really big one. If she was willing to lay on the inhospitable table top, the least he could do was help her to ignore it.

Recovery did not seem to be a necessity in Cheryl's current state, and remarkably soon after her second, very big climax, she was on her feet, towing him to the living room. Almost frantically pushing him down on the couch, she turned her back to him, reached between her legs to find his revitalized erection, and eased herself down onto it.

The newness of the position left Cal motionless for only a moment. As she began moving up and down on him, the movement of her impressive muscles under the silky skin of hear marvelously tapered back carried him away. He may or may not have returned her plunges with his own upward thrusts - he honestly could not remember later. All he could remember was worshipfully running his hands all over her back as his urgency rose.

He definitely remembered the completion, though. She somehow reached behind her and grabbed enough of both arms to pull them around to her front. Then she took his hands and placed them over her breasts. That was a momentous event in their relationship! He was so thrilled he almost came right then. She had never, ever emphasized her breasts to him, nor even encouraged his attention to them until he initiated it. If this meant that she was accepting their true sexiness instead of worrying about their size, it was a watershed moment.

As much as the thrill of her new confidence made him want to come right then, he steeled himself to resist. It was her first open invitation for attention to her nipples, and there was no way he would waste it. He would make them come together if it killed him.

He took a big chance and handled her breasts more roughly than was his custom, but it seemed to suit her mood perfectly. She escalated beautifully, and when he sensed that she was almost there, he pinched both spears harder than he ever had before. Her convulsions almost lifted her off of him, and he had to drop his arms to her waist and clamp her against himself to prevent his own discharge from jetting out onto the couch or the carpet.

Fortunately, the couch was an older leather one, so stains were not a threat. And that was a good thing, because in the aftermath, all Cheryl could think of was turning and cuddling in his lap. Nor was he up to much more activity than that. For several minutes, he just petted her gently while her only movement was breathing.

"I guess that takes care of the kitchen and the living room, huh?" he teased when their breathing had settled down.

"No way! We've hardly started," she objected dreamily. "Look! There's that chair. And that one! And that little desk. And all that carpet. Nope. We'll be lucky to initiate it properly by the end of summer. Sure gonna give it a good try, though." She said the last with a light-hearted giggle that absolutely thrilled him.

He watched in disbelief as she then jumped to her feet, grabbed his hand, and tried to pull him up. "Give me a minute more," he pled, only half joking as he said it.

"Huh, uh! We're making our first visit to the dojo this afternoon. Do you wanna shower first, or just go stinky?" How was he supposed to react to that? The thought of her sleek body all wet and soapy was enough to restore him even from the energetic session they had just finished.

The dojo and the sensei were a very pleasant surprise. After a nice, short drive, they entered the place, which stood at the end of a light industrial complex. They were barely inside when a hispanic man approaching middle age, clad in a white gi, strode up to them. Without saying a word, he gave a brief, crisp ceremonial bow and skipped forward toward Cal in weak-foot-forward attack position.

It took Cal only a second's surprise before he sprang into his defensive stance. There followed three of four minutes of action-movie quality high-speed sparring moves. Cheryl stood back and watched, dumbfounded, and about ten gi-clad students who were working out circled around to watch.

Abruptly, the man stepped back and bowed. Cal returned the gesture, and the onlookers burst into spontaneous applause. "Please follow me," the man said, and led the way to an office off to the side of the main gym. "Welcome, Mister Banner and Miss Carson. I am Jesus Monteleone. I instruct my students to call me Master Jessy. Ken Yokata was right about you, Cal, is it? In respect to how you have used our art according to the highest traditions, please call me Jay when we are alone. I extend that invitation to you, as well, Miss Carson."

Cheryl won a huge amount of respect from Jesus with her next action and comments. She gave an acceptable little bow, then said "Master Jessy, I am new to the discipline. But I would not dishonor your accomplishments, or Cal's, by showing less than the proper honor until I have earned the privilege myself." That brought a deep bow from Jesus.

Jesus cleared his throat, gave a chuckle, and said with a noticeable Spanish accent "That kind of formality does not come easily to us homeys. Let's just talk, OK?"

Hearing the accent, Cal asked in Spanish "Will you be able to help me improve my Spanish?"

With a minimum of surprise, Jesus responded that he would be most happy to help. Cal explained where he had learned it, and then they talked about objectives and schedule. Ken had briefed Jesus on Cheryl's goals, and that is what they talked the most about. Cal and Cheryl then changed and had a vigorous workout.

They had barely gotten home from the dojo when Claire knocked at their door and Cal let her in. "Cheryl, your mother told me that you had done hardly any cooking except for breakfasts and sandwiches. Is that right?" Cheryl nodded. "How about you Cal? Can you do dinners?" He shook his head emphatically.

"Well, I know Darlene stocked up your refrigerator," Claire said. "I'm not going to cook for you, but I promised I would help you learn how. Ready for the first lesson?" That turned out to be the first of many cooking lessons that Claire demanded both of them attend.

On that first night, Claire found a chance to pull Cheryl aside and tell her "You really celebrated your first day alone, didn't you?"

"Oh, no!" Cheryl exclaimed, mortified. "I had no idea you could hear us!"

"Oh, I'm definitely not upset," Claire assured her. "I had my first nooner in years!" The giggling that erupted between them caused Cal to throw them a questioning look that only increased the giggling.

"Seriously," Claire said, "be sure you always make some noise. I think that would be the best thing that's happened to us in years. Bert can still turn me inside out. I just wish he'd want to more often. You can help." More than the cooking lesson, that little intimate exchanged bonded Claire and Cheryl very quickly.

After everything that had happened that day, it was time for one of their face-to-face cuddle and talk sessions. Cheryl replayed her conversation with Claire, and Cal got around to telling her about his talk with Matt.

"Biking? Really? Cal, that's great!" In typical Cheryl fashion, her excitement turned their gentle cuddling session into more stimulation for Bert, if he had happened to be listening.

When they were once again cuddling quietly, Cheryl said "I've got to make sure Mom follows through and gets him that bike. If she can't get the money from Dad, I'll get it to Mom and have her pretend it's from Dad."

"Good bikes aren't cheap, you know," Cal cautioned.

"For my brother's sanity, it's worth it."

"Do you think things are that bad?" Cal asked.

"Well, you talked to him. What do you think?"

"Uh, yeah," Cal said. "Some things he said showed a lot of bitterness."

"Well, even with Julia's bills, I haven't spent the interest I've earned on my money. Now, Marty has someone investing it, and they sure seem to know what they're doing."

"Maybe I'd better let Marty take care of my money, too," Cal mused. "I guess you're right. You should see that Matt gets a good setup."

As excited as Cheryl and Cal were about being together for the summer, they both had larger goals that drove them. Cheryl wanted to get a perfect start on her compressed undergrad career. She had managed to register for three courses, more than was usually allowed, so it was a given that she would be spending a lot of time studying. One of the courses was especially critical, since an 'A' could exempt her from further courses in that sequence. It was one of the few ways of reducing the total number of credits required for graduation.

Cal's original objective was to support Cheryl and let her know that he was committed to her. Since making the decision, though, he had vowed to use the time well to improve his physical conditioning even further, and to hone his kicking and his basketball shooting to the highest levels possible. As a high schooler, he had been fortunate to get admitted to two classes, the normal summer school load.

On the very first day of class, Cheryl completely shocked Cal by rising with him at first light. Her resolution to work out with him was quite a sacrifice. She had never been a morning person. If she was ever to break that habit, this idyllic summer would be the perfect time.

In the few weeks that she had been able to train with Robin and Ken, Cheryl could definitely tell the difference. She had expected to feel stronger, even though she had thought she was in shape. What surprised her was the increase in her quickness - her reaction speed.

Robin had told her repeatedly that college sports was an entirely different proposition than high school. The physical conditioning of the top players was incredible. Robin gently but frequently reminded Cheryl that she was short for a hitter, and that she had no desire to become a bumper or a setter. If Cheryl was to win a spot in the rotation, she would have to be quicker, stronger, leap higher, hit harder, and have more endurance than girls several inches taller. Robin already sensed the strong competitive fire in Cheryl, and suspected that that fire and her natural talent had carried Cheryl to a successful high school career and her scholarship.

"Any decent coach will put you through the wringer physically when practice starts. They will try to shock you into realizing what being in shape really means," Robin had warned Cheryl. "If you can work hard enough so that the initial stuff doesn't wear you out, you will have your first edge, even on the veterans."

With high school graduation and all of the preparations for the summer dominating her thinking, Cheryl had heard and believed what Robin said. It just did not really sink in until she actually walked the college campus.

She was a lot like Cal in that she wanted very badly to compete. Sitting on the bench would still earn her the scholarship money, but she wanted to be on the floor - all the time. If getting up at dawn with her lover could help her toward that goal, it was a small price to pay.

Well, it was a small price in the abstract, but trying to drag herself from a warm bed that first morning was disgustingly real. Cal knew that, and did his best to aggravate her with unwanted cheerfulness.

In the morning, they ran together to the student center gym, where they used the machines before returning home.

On the first day of class, Cheryl inquired and found out that her volleyball coach was on campus. She arranged a meeting for the next day.

Later that first day, she called her mother to ask about the bike, and Darlene was down. "Matt asked me to see if I could get money for a bike he wanted. He told me about his talk with Cal. Your father said that was way too much money for something to ride to school. Then he went on about the bike he had when he was a kid." Darlene's words shocked Cheryl. It was the most negative tone she had ever heard her mother use about her father.

Darlene had let herself get seriously upset with Hal, not quashing her emotions as she normally did. Her interaction with her son during the trip had made a huge impact on her, and she wanted him to have something that was uniquely his. When he had asked her to get the money from Hal, she had gone in optimistically, only to get shot down.

Cheryl had left two signed checks with Shelley, warning her to keep them well hidden. At the time, she had not trusted her mother enough to leave them with her. They probably should have gone to Matt, but her sisterly bond with Shelley was unusually strong, and as much as she loved her brother, she found him difficult to read at times.

Cheryl got Shelley on the phone and had her give one check to Darlene, telling the reason. Shelley insisted that she go along on the shopping trip, and insisted on going that very afternoon.

The experience of spending several hundred dollars on a bike and the accompanying gear was one more in a series of high impact experiences for Darlene. Money had always been under Hal's control. He had never denied her requests for clothing and personal items, nor had she ever asked for anything out of line.