Chapter 1

It was a quiet Tuesday evening at Holly's in Kenmore Square. Sinead O'Conner's raspy voice blared through crummy speakers to the mostly lesbian patrons. The place smelled of stale beer, cheap perfume and fried clams, but I didn't mind. It was close to both BU and my Comm. Ave apartment, and even if these chicks were strictly dickless most of them were easy on the eyes. I wasn't watching them much tonight, my mind was occupied cramming for the final exams this week; Psyche, Chemistry, Pharmacology and Computers. With four Majors and numerous full time jobs, these last four years had been a real bitch. But I have plans and goals, and with a 3.95 GPA and an honors degree it will have been worth it. Recruiters from the largest pharmaceutical companies have been fighting each other to give me what I have always wanted, a chance to do pure research, and make them and me millions. As usual I was multitasking, working on my research paper, Limbic Dopamine Antagonist Treatments on Affective Cognitive Neural Disorders, while working on a buzz with a pitcher of Michelob.

Peals of laughter from the booth kitty corner from mine caused me to glance up from my studies. The three hot looking dykes were having a great time with what looked from my limited view to be a little schoolgirl, complete with white blouse and blazer, short red and blue pleated miniskirt, white rolled down socks and black mary jane shoes. Two long pigtails tied with big blue ribbons showed her to be a redhead. One of the dykes grabbed her hands and pulled the girl forward across the beer splattered table and planted a sloppy smooch on her lips. The already short skirt traveled up the struggling girls thighs until I caught a glimpse of her white cotton panties. My studies all but forgotten I stared openly at the salacious spectacle. The dyke kissing the trapped young girl grabbed some cash from the table and stuffed the bills into the girls shirt pocket while fondling her bra encased little boobs. The two other laughing lesbos lifted the back of her skirt to play their hands over the tightly stretched panties and the trembling thin thighs, slipping their fingers into the dark crevice in between. Even as my long neglected dick sprang to attention I sensed something familiar about those long legs and wriggling little butt. After about three minutes and with a playful slap on her derriere the captured hands were released and the humiliated girl stood. With head bowed and panties on display I heard a hoarse stuttered "thank you", and I knew.

Pamela, Pam Ferguson, the girl I lusted for all through high school! The girl I drooled over as she sat at the desk in front of mine in geometry class. The friendly freckled Irish lass I lusted for in biology. The times I spent at her house when I tutored her in algebra. The smell of her hair and the touch of her hand on mine while we worked on quadratic equations. The stuffed animals and the boy band posters in her bedroom where we sat at her computer side by side, the glow of the monitor sparkling in her emerald green eyes. The way her braless nipples poked through the thin tee shirt she wore to bed. The mischievous smile as she reached up for a book on the top shelf or bent over to pick up a pen she "accidentally" dropped, playing peek a boo with her panties. Over the months the teasing and flirting progressed to the point where we would make out on her bed, exploring each other with lips locked together and bodies entwined. She would moan as my roving hands squeezed firm little tits and flicked across her thimble sized nips. Her hips would grind up against my fingers as they slid over the surface of her moist smooth as silk panties. After gently circling the tiny bump at the top of her slit her hips would rock from side to side until her whole body began to shake. Her scissoring thighs would clamp on my hand, squeezing my whole hand against the hardened nub. When her feet slammed down flat on the mattress and her crotch arched upwards her hand went to her mouth to stifle a squeal. The squeal that became a hiss as her rigid body relaxed and fell back in release.

And that was it. If my fingers tried to slide under the ruffled lace of the now soggy panty her hand would grab my wrist, "no, please, not now". If I steered her hand to my painfully hard cock, "don't, I just can't". And the only time I unzipped my pants and released my stiffened shaft she stared wide eyed and open mouthed, seemingly mesmerized by its size. Stroking up and down its length my other hand gripping it firmly at the base I saw that her green eyes were glued to the smooth purplish bulb at the end. She went cross eyed as I neared her face, her open mouth and her wet tongue licking at her lush red lips seemed to be inviting me in. When my knob touched her lips her body trembled and her face went slack but then suddenly she tensed. Her head shook from side to side and a look of revulsion came over her face, "what are you doing? That's disgusting! Leave me alone you pervert!"

After half an hour of apologies and promises never to try that again she half heartedly forgave me. At the front door she even gave me a brief hug and a peck on my cheek. Her last words as I left were a hoarse stuttered "thank you".

Pamela never invited me over after that night, yet we still remained friends. That summer she went to the cape for vacation and although I wrote her impassioned love letters every week, I didn't see or hear from her until school that fall. She had changed over the summer. No longer was she the shy quiet girl I knew. She came to class dressed to kill. Now she wore tight hip hugging hot pants that showed the outline of her slit and the bottom of her ass cheeks. Her tiny braless tits showed through the sheer tee shirts she now preferred. She made a science out of flirtation, flaunting her assets, teasing the horny teen boys and male teachers alike. And yet she never dated.