dr. pepper

Note: The descriptions and accounts in these stories are fictional and do not portray any actual people or events.

After we recovered from our wild session in my dorm room, I walked Suzanne back down to her car and gave her a long and tender kiss before she drove away. I missed her already. I jogged the stairs back up to my eighth floor room, and noticed that it barely winded me. Suzanne was a good influence in many ways. Kevin was not back yet, so it only took me about 60 seconds to fall asleep. Kevin came in about 4 AM, as did a text from Millie saying she was home okay, escorted by one of Winifred’s security team. I slept through it all.

When I awoke Wednesday morning, I was famished, ready to eat a cow. When I dressed I noticed my pants were all too loose at the waist and too tight on my butt and thighs. More kudos to Suzanne, I suppose, and Lara, and Millie, and Peggy. I had to forego the beef and settle for bacon and eggs, remembering to add pancakes and toast in preparation for our run at lunch time, and water and orange juice to maintain my hydration. I was so full that it felt like I waddled to Rhetoric and Composition. Ms. Wyrickie actually flirted with me and Sarah during class, so a week from Thursday was shaping up as a real occasion. Stiffy time.

We finished off the unit on famous legal cases in Engineering 101, and then I rapidly changed into my running clothes, with long sleeves for the cooler weather, and hit the track. The new faster pace was now like the old, comfortable pace for me and when Suzanne joined in, I had plenty of wind for a chat. I would of course not need it.

“Hey, my Animal! My little pussy is happy but sore, you mean and nasty man! But my legs feel great. I got a text from Millie saying she got home, but very late. Did you see the election results? I was surprised it was so clear cut. Most of the pollsters were out in left field. All the big swing states went against the incumbent! The President did not look happy early this morning when he spoke! One of the pundits called it a ‘concession sentence’ rather than a ‘concession speech’! The folks on MSNBC are apoplectic, but my old man is very relieved.”

I had not seen the election results, having prioritized breakfast. I opened my mouth to speak, but alas, too late.

“I am sure Dad will have a lot to say over Christmas break when I visit. He will be attending this inauguration. He is already worried about a flood of executive orders and pardons before the transition, not to mention the effort required on the diplomatic front.”

I knew not to even try to speak now, as she was just warming up.

“Do you realize I won’t get a chance to get my hands on you again until after dinner Sunday night? I say it’s poor planning on my soccer coach’s part! Speaking of soccer, Big Liz and Little Marilyn look unbearable happy all the time now, thanks to your friend Ralph, I suppose. Marilyn never really had any sex before, and Liz never had any that was good for her! Now they almost giggle at practice, plus they are making eyes at each other all the time even if they didn’t have Ralph. They are like little happy bunny rabbits. Did you say you knew Ralph from junior high? How exactly did you know about his ‘big equipment’?

I almost stumbled and fell. Was Suzanne going to recruit Ralph for her ‘big cock’ fantasy plan? Holy Shit. You never thought of that, did you, dummy, openly sharing your little inside jokes with her. But I never got the chance to talk about it either, as she drew a quick breath and continued.

“It is a sort of a shame to miss out on him, but I could never do anything with him even if he was just Liz’s boyfriend, or just Marilyn’s, but it would be four times as bad since they both have him! It would be like you trying to do Nora without me being involved! That would be a deal killer for me: I would dump you in an instant. But as long as we could do her together, it’s cool. I probably wouldn’t do him because he is your friend, either, I guess.”

I was relieved, but I didn’t quite follow her logic. In fact, I was bewildered. My working hypothesis was that ‘the sex partners and/or lovers of my close friends are verboten’ but I wasn’t sure. But I didn’t get the chance to ask, either, because she went on, after drawing a deep but quick breath.

“But there are other factors to consider. Take that waterskiing hottie, Candy, for instance. I would understand if you wanted to do her, and she’s not my friend, nor the lover of anybody I know, so it would only bother me a little, as long as the STD risk is not there. I would maybe even do her with you, she is cute, and then it wouldn’t bother me at all. But I couldn’t do anything with Ralph that might drive a wedge between him and my two friends, or you and me, for that matter.”

I have a problem sometimes with my curiosity causing me to speak before I think, so instead of feeling relieved and shutting up, I said, “What if Marilyn and Big Liz wanted to have an orgy with Ralph, and me, and you?”

She laughed evilly. “Now there’s an idea! I am sure glad you thought of that, Animal!”

Oh shit, me and my big mouth, again. My mom says there are times when you should “study at STFU”, and this would have been a good time to enroll in that august institution. Liz and Marilyn were super hot, but I was not sure I would enjoy Ralph enjoying Suzanne, and I was pretty sure I would not enjoy it if Suzanne enjoyed him! I don’t know if it would it be better or worse if it were some stranger instead of Ralph, but the green-eyed monster was stalking me, big time. I didn’t have a chance to make things worse by running my yap anymore, because Suzanne plunged ahead again.

“I think I could handle that, my Animal, as long as it didn’t freak you out, but I am pretty sure Marilyn could not handle it. In fact, I don’t think I even want to try to talk to her about it.”

Now I was thoroughly confused. But at least my wind was holding out well. So was Suzanne’s.

“So it is going to be a very busy time between now and Thanksgiving, isn’t it? I just found out that I have to write the midterm for the class I am TA’ing for, and write the answer key, and circulate it to the professor and the other TA’s before we leave for break! What fun. Then I have to incorporate all their suggestions and administer it right after we get back. Plus I have exams in all my graduate courses, too.”

By this point we were on our last lap, and I marveled at how well I was holding up. Maybe I could handle a marathon in between Thanksgiving and Christmas, if I survived the next few days, that is. We did the sprint, then finished up our cool down laps, shared another tender kiss, and I missed her immediately. I had it bad for that girl, and I knew it.


Dwight the Dweeb Boy watched Robbie kiss Suzanne at the end of their run, as he always did. Dwight also knew to a 99% certainty what would happen next: Suzanne would go up to her little TA office, grade papers and study until the rush hour traffic died down, and then drive to her apartment. There she would reheat some leftovers, put on some classical music, and study some more. She did have good taste in music, if perhaps not in boyfriends. Finally she would do 100 sit-ups, 100 push-ups, and a 30 minute stretching routine. Dwight could make more than his salary just streaming that nightly routine on the internet and charging for logins, and even more for the video he got from the shower she took afterwards. The only problem would be getting drummed out of the agency, and the life sentence in solitary confinement at Fort Leavenworth, for treason, with no chance of parole or visitation.

Once she pulled into the parking lot of her unassuming little apartment building, Dwight would let the rest of team go on ‘ready’ status while he spent the night monitoring things from the fake cable company van parked nearby. He could hit one alert key and recall them, but Pliskin’s routine was such that they would almost never be required. His weeknights and weekdays were now just as boring as Suzanne’s.


Just after leaving Suzanne, my runner’s high suddenly kicked in, like never before, and I was high as a kite all through my shower and afternoon classes. It was a few minutes before they started serving dinner downstairs, and I was ‘stucking farving’ as my grandfather used to say. But I opened up my laptop and discovered a reply to my email to the Gallos. Far from being offended by my suggestion that they see Asa Weltschmerz, they thought it was a great idea, and their only question, after researching him, was how I managed to get them appointments so readily with what was obviously one of the most qualified guys in the states, if not the world. They had already set up times, and would complete the exams by tonight, after which Asa would be in touch with me, so Erminia could start Thursday night if that was convenient for me. I spent a few more minutes on a Project Erminia plan, and then literally ran down to dinner.

Nora was there for early dinner, too, feeling the same kind of academic pressure Suzanne was. Besides being an assistant TA for Suzanne, she was also taking 18 credit hours of upper division undergraduate economics, and one graduate course. She was planning only a few hours sleep each night from now until Thanksgiving break. I told her that as soon as we got in the car the Wednesday before Thanksgiving; she could put her head on my shoulder and sleep all the way to my house. Then I thought how unlikely it was that Alley Shitty would still her incredibly irritating voice long enough for Nora to get any sleep on the drive back home. By the time I looked over at Nora, she was looking at me with tears in her eyes. I gave her a hug. I wanted to give her a lot more.

When I got back to my room, having stuffed my hollow leg enough to survive until breakfast, there was another email, this one from Spear Overtop. He wanted to join the engineering sub-group for the F1 tour, to get in touch with his ‘inner geek’ and would also love to come to dinner with the assembled group, but he was worried about where to take this many people for dinner given the almost total saturation of the capitol city eateries during the week before the race. He also wanted the girls and me to host an ‘après race’ affair at his party house. We could invite whoever we wanted, as long as we let Spear attend anonymously, and he would pick up the tab for the invitations, decorations, music, caterers, etc. suggesting a mid five figure budget, and listing contacts at the firms he normally used. I had no idea parties were so expensive, or what complexities were involved, but I was confident that Lara, Millie, and Suzanne could rise to the occasion. In fact, I figured they would get all fired up about it. I forwarded his email to the three of them, awaiting their reaction, and then responded to Spear that I thought I had it covered for the combined group dinner, and hoped he would be pleasantly surprised.

Four hours of reading and problem sets later, I was caught up in math and all my other courses. Kevin was pulling an all-nighter at the ZZZ house with his frat assigned tutor, cramming for the upcoming exams in his required government and history classes. He said he didn’t need to study for any of his RTF classes, because he was a natural genius at all that. I hope he doesn’t flunk out.

My phone buzzed, and it was Asa Weltschmerz, with a report on the Gallos. They were clean and clear medically, but he wanted to share his insights on Erminia. She was still almost completely consumed by what he called survivor guilt over the death of her first husband, well beyond what he would expect or had ever seen before. She would need some kind of very dramatic intervention to get out of that trap, and only then could she feel free enough to have sex without compounding her guilt. She loved Sapiento deeply, but she felt even more guilt for not being responsive to him and not being able to really please him, much less just be happy as a wife for his sake. There followed a discussion of Sapiento’s health and capability for actually having sex with Erminia. I thanked him for agreeing to see them, and he laughed and said he should be thanking me. I asked why, and he just laughed again and said “that will become obvious after the race.” I opened up my project plan for Erminia’s training, and reconsidered how to do things. I fell asleep thinking about it.


While Suzanne studied, Dwight did too. He read the latest report from the scenario pukes in Maryland, wherein they used Pavel’s tendencies in other reported kidnappings to predict when and where they would try to grab Erminia or Sapiento. It was almost like game planning for another football team. The report also assessed the strengths and weaknesses of the criminal team members identified from the photograph at the party, to try to predict which bad actor would be assigned to do what and when. He also read a report on Paulo and Astrid, which concluded that they were being blackmailed, due to an indiscretion in Astrid’s past, and were reluctantly helping Pavel in order to avoid disclosure and ruin. Dwight began to think about what he would plan if he were a master kidnapper.

The team on Erminia and Sapiento reported real difficulties in monitoring their phone and email traffic, as they had some sort of professional grade bug sweeping and counter surveillance efforts going on in and around their suite at the Four Seasons. Dwight was also guessing that a lot of the so called painting and redecorating job at their newly leased house was security related, too, promising to make snooping there even more difficult once they moved in.


Our first training session with Erminia was to be at 6 PM at their hotel, a time chosen to be as soon as possible after our last class periods. I was highly distracted through my classes during the day Thursday. Erminia insisted on sending a driver for us, and I felt self conscious when a black limo showed up at dorm, picking me up first. Millie did not mind at all when it arrived at the Phi Phi house, and she beamed as she skipped down the steps and joined me in the back seat. I expected to be taken to the circle drive and porte-cochere in front of the hotel, but the limo driver pulled into another underground garage around the corner from the main entrance and let us off at an unmarked elevator, giving us a plastic access card to activate it. We swiped the card and the elevator began moving. The enunciator on the elevator car showed levels 1 through 32, and when the car stopped, no floor number at all was displayed. But the doors opened normally and we stepped into a tastefully appointed hallway, with a smiling Erminia flanked by two average looking guys in dark grey suits and dark blue ties.

She greeted us and showed us to an impressive parlor right out of an Architectural Digest magazine spread. The two presumed security types discreetly disappeared, closing the doors solidly behind them, and Erminia smiled nervously, and then said, “We will not be disturbed here. You are now in charge.”

I had considered carefully what would be best for her, and reconsidered after my consultation with Asa, but I was still nervous about it. My whole plan was based on a single principle and a monotonic progression along a direct line from that principle, and I must never show any lack of resolve. I stood and glared at Erminia.

“Strip and get on your knees! You are a trainee of the lowest rank. Your training has nothing to do with your needs or wants. You must learn that your place is to please others. You will learn to focus completely on their pleasure. You will learn to cater to their every whim and desire, with no thought of your own pleasure or even your own comfort. In fact, you will learn to gladly accept pain for yourself if it brings pleasure to your master or mistress.”

“Millie, strip and lie on your back on that red lounge chair, and spread your legs!” She complied. Erminia’s eyes were glued to Millie as she slowly stripped. Millie was obviously enjoying the attention from both of us. She brazenly lay back on the chair, letting her legs fall apart languorously. She put her arms over her head and took a deep breath, her expanding chest emphasizing her breasts and nipples, which were suddenly marvelously erect, and her flat abdomen, which quivered enticingly.

I moved my chair close by, and motioned for Erminia to move to my side. When she did, I grabbed the back of her neck and forced her head between Millie’s legs. I tried to tap directly into both women’s Suzie signals; connecting to Millie now came very naturally to me, and touching Erminia helped me tune into hers. Erminia was nervous, uncertain, and apprehensive, and not the least bit sexually excited. That was fine. At this point, I wanted her to consider herself performing a task, not enjoying it or being aroused by it.

“Eat that pussy, trainee! Make her come.” Erminia resisted briefly, and then began to tentatively and mechanically tongue Millie, pushing back against my hand with the muscles in her neck and shoulders. I leaned down and spoke right into her ear: “Make that pussy your whole world. Smell it, taste it, listen to it, love it, and become one with it! Your only purpose in life is to make it happy and wet!”

She stopped pushing back against my hand, leaned forward slightly, rested on her elbows, and put her hands under Millie’s knees, holding Millie’s legs up and even further apart. Millie arched her back even further, and her Suzie signal began to increase in intensity. Erminia began to move her head left and right slowly, and I could see her jaw muscles moving as she thrust her tongue into Millie. Millie made a little sigh. Erminia’s head began moving back and forth more vigorously, and Millie’s sighs became louder. Erminia alternated between left and right, up and down, and occasionally in and out motions and Millie began to groan.

I squeezed Erminia’s neck roughly. “Open your eyes and watch Millie’s nipples to see what arouses them. See if you can make that wonderful pussy flow a little more and taste a little stronger as you please it. Feel her clit get harder as you do the right thing for her. You should be grateful just for the chance to smell it, much less kiss it and taste it!”

Erminia looked up at Millie and began flicking her tongue on Millie’s clit. Millie sighed more loudly and began to push her hips up a little, toward Erminia. I began to hear Erminia’s breathing as she exerted more effort, and then Millie’s breath came faster too. There was still no sexual Suzie signal from Erminia, just concentration on her task. Millie pushed up on her elbows to look down at Erminia, and began to touch her own nipples gently, and turned her head from side to side. Millie opened her mouth and began to pant lightly. Erminia used her arms to get a stronger purchase on Millie’s pelvis, tilting it up and down to add to the motions of her head and tongue.

Millie softly said “Right there, right there, right there” and put her head back and her chin up. Erminia began to add even more force to her side to side movements.

I could sense through Millie’s Suzie signal that Erminia had found the right spot on Millie’s clit and was focusing in on it. “You can tell she likes that, trainee! Now add some suction on it!” I said. I leaned back in my chair, letting go of Erminia’s neck as she was now concentrating fully on Millie’s pussy without my urging.

Erminia made a suckling sound and Millie gasped again, hissing “Yes!” as she encouraged her efforts. I could visualize Millie’s vaginal lips locked to Erminia’s mouth by the suction and being tugged as Erminia moved her head to and fro. Erminia bore in a little closer and sucked a little harder, and Millie reached down and grabbed her by the ears and began to direct her motions so that they were exactly what she needed.

“Learn what she wants, trainee, and do it without hesitation! We will continue to repeat this until you know and can anticipate her every preference.”

Erminia still sent no sexual signals, but she was showing full attention and concentration. She began to alternate between humming, blowing and sucking on Millie’s little snatch, and moving her head even more vigorously. Millie spread her legs even wider and pushed her pussy up towards Erminia’s face. Both women were now breathing rapidly and deeply: Millie through her mouth and Erminia through her nose while her mouth was sealed to Millie. Millie put one hand behind Erminia’s head and pulled her face into her even more strongly, so strongly that I could see the muscles in Millie’s forearm working with the effort.

Millie pushed down with her legs and lifted her hips off of the red chaise lounge, still pushing herself into Erminia’s face. Millie’s cries expanded, sounding almost desperate. She now grabbed Erminia’s hair strongly, and in an almost Suzanne like move, began to effectively fuck Erminia’s face with her pussy. Erminia responded with even stronger suction and motion, and soon Millie was crying “Oh, oh, oh!” and then arched her back and threw her head back and screamed loudly, her hips shaking.

Erminia’s motions were now so strong that she made loud, wet noises, like a junior high kid making simulated fart noises surreptitiously in the back of class. Millie’s Suzie signal began beeping and her orgasm swept through her. Her nipples pulsed, and goose pumps propagated from her neck down to her arms and waist. She froze for just a moment, and then had another crushing climax, gasping for breath. Then she clamped Erminia’s head in her hands and held it completely motionless for about ten seconds, then relaxed slightly and her pelvis rolled forward, then back. Erminia broke the seal between her mouth and Millie with a raspy popping noise, and looked almost smug with her success.

“Do it again, trainee, and with more feeling!” I said.

Erminia stuck her tongue out again and used her legs to push her shoulders closer to Millie’s snatch, keeping her tongue extended and sliding it in and out of her vagina. I could see the muscles in Erminia’s back working to shift her around, and Millie’s nipples got even harder and redder. She began to use her thigh muscles to match Erminia’s to and fro motions. Millie returned her hands to her nipples and twisted them savagely. Erminia then seemed determined to thrust her tongue deep inside of Millie and roll it around in every direction. After a few moments, she drew her face back and began to lick Millie with little individual tongue motions, then plunged back in again. Erminia’s Suzie signaled not arousal but comfort, as if she was beginning to like making Millie feel good.

Millie pushed up again almost to full seated position and began to verbally direct Erminia’s actions. “Harder, make me come. Deeper, make me come!” All of her muscles tensed again and she shook in an almost seizure like dance, grabbing the back of Erminia’s neck again and pulling it into her. “I’m coming!” She lifted her hips up again and Erminia pushed them up with her hands thrusting them up off the couch, and Millie grabbed Erminia’s wrists and locked that position in. Her face froze in a grimace, her eyes closed, her breathing frantic. The she grunted and then relaxed her legs, her butt hitting the couch with a ‘woofing’ sound as the air escaped her lungs.

I was now connected to both of him with complete signal clarity. Erminia was still not sexually excited. She was alternately either frustrated that she was not doing a task well, or happy that she was succeeding, yet always afraid that she was about to be scolded. I realized it was connected to her guilt, and I used that. “Make her come again, and quickly. If you can’t bring her off twice in the next few minutes, I will write you off as hopeless and terminate your training immediately!” Erminia drew a deep breath and concentrated on Millie. I tuned in to her too, and offered Erminia some advice. When Millie’s Suzie began to wax, I murmured encouragement to Erminia, and when it waned, I scolded her. I was so connected to Millie now, I could almost say “right there” for her. I was amazed at how subtle their signals were and how well I could read them: I felt truly part of their little tableau. I still sensed Ermie concentrating hard on Millie, and silently hoping to make her come, but still with no real sexual excitement of her own. Millie was relaxing and getting into the rhythm, forgetting about the strange surroundings and unfamiliar situation, and beginning to trust Erminia.

Soon Millie grabbed Ermie’s head and shook like she was standing up in the stirrups of a horse, and her Suzie blossomed to signal the best orgasm of the session, accompanied by a wafting burst of aroma from her beautiful and furry little air freshener. Millie had a funky, expanding overtone to her Suzie when an orgasm was especially strong. It was not as unique as Suzanne’s quirky sneeze when she really came hard, but it was a signature for her pleasure. Erminia must have memorized the correct sequence, because she did it again and Millie came quickly again, reaching up not to grab Ermie’s head, but to gently caress it and smile. Erminia smiled back up at her, like I used to smile up from between Mrs. Douglass’s legs, and kissed the inside of Millie’s things softly, all the while licking up Millie’s juices.

I smiled very briefly at Erminia, careful to wipe it off my face as soon as she saw it. “You may be trainable. You may not be. We shall see. Before next week’s session, I expect you to spend at least two hours each day researching more and better techniques for cunnilingus, studying female anatomy and response, and visualizing how you could better please Millie. Next week, if you cannot achieve at least twice as many orgasms in the same amount of time, I will be forced to suspend your training! Now lean over on the couch and present yourself for a spanking!”

Erminia’s face betrayed her surprise and confusion, but she turned and dropped her waist on the red chaise lounge, reaching up to grab the opposite side of it with her arms and tensing her legs against the floor, raising her lovely buttocks to the most vulnerable possible position. Suddenly there was a hint of sexual tension in her Suzie signal, then a wave of guilt. I realized that they had been somehow pathologically tied together, and that each time she felt excitement, her guilt welled up to suppress it. Asa Weltschmerz told me she would never feel she had punished herself enough. Someone else would have to punish her until she felt it was enough, but the trouble was figuring out how much was really enough. He said that was always the problem. But I had my Suzie receiver, a big advantage that he did not know about. I figured that somehow her Suzie would tell me when she had really been punished enough, and I was determined to take her to that point. Beyond that point, perhaps she could begin to enjoy herself a little bit, and then Sapiento could to.

I took a position behind Ermie, where she could not see me, and paused to let her anticipate what would happen next. Millie was getting into it now, and she took Ermie’s head in her hands and made eye contact with her. This kind of spanking would likely make Millie come, but I hoped she realized that Erminia would not react that way. Millie said “Keep your eyes on mine, trainee! Do not close them.”

Sometimes improvisation is just the right thing. Erminia shivered, and I delivered a rousing blow to her left buttock. She made a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a cough, then emitted a low moan. I counted to three between smacks, and gave her five on each buttock, then listened carefully to her Suzie signal. No excitement, no anger, just resignation. Her punishment phase may take a while, but I didn’t see any alternative but to go through with it, all the way to the end. I narrated my strokes, popping her even harder: “You must be punished severely, you selfish, unthinking worm!”

She sobbed, but her Suzie said she agreed with my evaluation. I would have to punish her until she felt it was enough. I was risking everything on being able to tell when that point had been reached. Millie watched me warily as I continued to spank Erminia. For the first few strokes, it excited her, and she wanted those strokes herself. But after the first dozen or so, she seemed to realize the depth of the sorrow that had been visited upon Erminia, and she watched frozen, cushioning her head as if trying to help absorb the aftershock of each of my strokes. For the next dozen, she looked askance at me, wondering if I had lost control. When I finally stopped, she gasped when she stopped holding her breath, and Erminia for her part sobbed loudly.

“I will need to bring some instruments of discipline for your next session, trainee! You have not yet been properly punished, but I promise that you will be!” Erminia curled into the fetal position, and Millie looked daggers at me as she slipped her dress back on. “Remember to complete your assignments for next week!” With that, I took Millie by the arm and we went into the hallway. I used the card reader to call the elevator, and the door opened and took us back into the parking garage. The driver opened the limo doors for use and we got in, without a word passing between us.

As Millie and I rode back toward the Phi Phi house, I realized how much the training session had affected me. I was only now realizing how horny I was, as I had been ignoring myself while concentrating fully on doing the right thing for Erminia. I was just about to drop off the only possible outlet for my lust, and I had hours of schoolwork to do before I could sleep. Just as we pulled up at the Phi Phi porch, Millie grabbed my shoulder and whispered wetly in my ear, “Saturday night! Anything you want! Anything at all!” Apparently she had regained her erotic equilibrium. I suppose there might be some virtue in waiting and anticipating the weekend.

When I returned to the dorm around 10 PM, Kevin was nowhere to be found. As I sat down at my little study desk, I heard an alarming noise. It was my stomach growling, as I had eaten nothing at all since lunch. Even though most of my exertion during the training session was mental, save for a little vigorous spanking, I was still famished. I grabbed some change from my backpack, and headed for the vending machines in the basement.

A huge college dorm complex filled with roughly ten thousand ‘fresh persons’ can sometimes be a living and breathing theatre of the absurd. Evenings and late nights seem to be the most poignant, as people return from a variety of good or bad experiences and are often confronted with what they should have done, but have not. Or what they did, and should not have. These feelings are often acted out accompanied by booze, drugs, screaming histrionics, self flagellation, cutting and other even more creative forms of self abuse. Every semester there were several suicide attempts, and the occasional success. Almost every time I did my laundry or ventured down to the vending machine area, I witnessed some of these scenes. Tonight was no exception.

The football team had its own dining hall nearby, and a separate residence floor in the complex, and especially first year players were under a lot of stress. Pressure to keep their grades up was very real, and so were the opportunities to spend time doing everything but academics. There was good natured hazing by some of the upperclassmen athletes, plus some frankly psychotic abuse masquerading as hazing. As soon as they were allowed to, those athletes that survived their freshman year and could afford it fled the dorms for apartments or rental houses wherever they could find them. Dana Duke had told me a few stories about her relatively mild adventures as a freshman female golfer on scholarship, but also some very dark tales of those most worshipped and also most abused athletes on the ESU campus, the newly recruited football players.

One of my high school buddies was a walk on player working on the practice squad, simulating the opposing team’s offense in weekly practices. He and most of his family were long term multi-generational alums and fans, but he couldn’t get a whiff of a scholarship offer to play football at ESU. He was by far the most talented player on our high school football team, and he did have scholarship offers from some of the ‘directional schools’ in neighboring states, but nothing from any of the other major conference schools in Texas, either. He actually consulted my Mom about his choice of schools, not because she knew anything about football, but because his long term goal was to be an accountant. They concluded that since his long term plan was to live in Texas, an ESU accounting degree and networking opportunities would be far superior, from a ‘client development’ perspective (which was apparently what accountants called marketing) to any of the out of state schools. Even if he just ended up in an ESU team picture with 150 other walk-ons to put on his office wall, it would serve him much better than being a starter anywhere else. As a result of staying in touch with him, I had some insight into the inner workings of the ESU football program, and some of the characters involved.

That was why I recognized the guy standing in front of the drink vending machine at the other end of the row from where I was. He was a highly touted freshman offensive lineman from a small town less than a hundred miles from campus, and considered a real prospect for the NFL a few years hence. He was six foot six inches, 295 pounds, and still a growing just turned 18 year old, yet to fill out his dainty frame with muscle. After a few years with the ESU nutritionist and the strength and conditioning staff, he was expected to show up at the scouting combine at 6′ 7″ and 325 lbs, with the same very low body fat he had now.

I had been victimized by the same vending machine he now stood in front of before, and always avoided it. Although the light brown colored metal refrigerator substitute was Bluetooth equipped and supposedly offered multiple payment options, including bills, coins, credit cards, Paypal, NetSpend, and even BevoBucks, the only thing that seemed to offer any hope of actually getting a drink was dollar bills, and after you deposited two of them and the little roller sucked them up, nothing happened. No drink, no change, not even any blinking lights. When it happened to me, I simply concluded that I should avoid that machine in the future. Oh, there was a sign detailing a web page you could log into and submit a claim for a refund, but I had heard that all you got was an email saying your claim was being investigated, with no further action.

Freddie the Freshman Footballer chose a different course of action. He laughed and bitch slapped the machine dramatically about where its face would have been, if it had one, and said “How much do you squat, man?” and bent down and grabbed the machine down low and grunted. The thing had to weigh at least 350 pounds. He slowly lifted it up until it was about three feet off the ground. Then he tilted the machine about thirty degrees, and dropped it, so that it landed right on the front left corner. I got the feeling he had done this before, and it was a well developed technique. There was a keening noise and the sheet metal skin split up that corner, opening a gash about two feet long. He grabbed one side, and opened the split further like peeling a banana skin. He then reached in, got his Dr. Pepper, and then spun and delivered a thundering karate kick right into the front of the machine, smashing the bill roller, keypad, and LCD screen. He noticed me and smiled, flashed me a Hook ‘em sign, and headed for the stairs with his prize. I got two packages of cheese crackers and a Coke from other machines, and headed up stairs for several hours of devotion to school.

Friday morning I awoke with a pounding erection, I guess from all the Thursday night stimulation without any action or release. I was, of course, ravenously hungry, too, the cheese crackers having not truly been sufficient to tide me over last night. I tanked up even more thoroughly than Wednesday morning, in anticipation of starting another noon run with Suzanne. I looked around for Nora, but did not see her, but spotted Ralph as he sat down with me at the table, his plate just as loaded as mine was.

“Hey, Robbie! Guess who just got moved into this dorm.” He laughed. “The food seems better here, so far, and so many people flunked out that I actually have a room all to myself! Both of the former occupants are heading home for a local yokel future, I guess. It’s a much better place for me than a bunk bed in the lounge of the old dorm. Actually, it hasn’t been that bad, since I almost never sleep there. It’s usually at Liz’s or Marilyn’s place. I have to eat a lot more calories to keep up with those two. But I’m not complaining! In fact, I should thank you more often for recognizing the opportunity and pointing it out to me.”

I laughed with him. “From what I hear, the girls aren’t complaining either! Sounds like a good deal to me.”

He looked funny. “I don’t see how you keep up with three of them. I can barely handle two, and if they couldn’t get each other off, I would have big trouble. I guess it sort of balances out.”

Now I was puzzled. “What to you mean by balances out?”

“Well, having the two girls there at once gets me more excited, but the fact that there are two of them also means I have to get excited more often!”

Now I understood. “That’s what they call a very high quality problem, Ralphie boy.” He guffawed, wearing his version of my shit eating grin. We walked out together toward the South Mall.

Rhetoric and Composition served up the first exam of the pre-Thanksgiving gauntlet, a combination of multiple choice questions that proved you at least knew the titles and characters of the books on the reading list, and a few essay questions to find out whether or not you had actually read any of them and formed any opinions. I had read them all, and I was pretty sure Ms. Wyrickie would give me break even if she disagreed with my opinions. Engineering 101 was a pre-test review, and I had learned Lillehammer’s pattern, thanks to having access to the UDP test files for the last several years. The practice test was twice as long as the real exam would be, and the questions on the even pages were very similar to what would end up on the exam, so I had a good study plan for the test next Monday.

I began my run at the now comfortable faster pace, and Suzanne soon joined in right on time, one minute before noon. “Mornin’, Animal!” she exclaimed, always precise. “Let’s talk about the Formula One after Race Party at Spear’s place!” Actually, she talked, and I listened. She and Millie and Lara had taken to the task enthusiastically, having set up elaborate shared planning documents on Google Drive and brainstorming all the options. Their goal was to make sure the invitees never forgot the last party of their first trip to Austin, and to instill in them a burning desire to get invited back for next year’s bash. Lara said her dad insisted on contributing to the budget, as long as he could submit some of his younger networking targets for attendance, and they had agreed. Lara had been consulting with the event planner I met at the UDP port with Cisco, and she was promising a bang up job at minimum price, since it could be her entre’ to doing much more business with the Gran Prix crowd next year. Suzanne had a few ideas for how to spice things up considerably, and she was working on her soccer girls and the Phi Phi pledges to develop some very special entertainment for the party. I could even detect her Suzie signal sparking about as the anticipated it. What did she have in mind?

Then the subject changed to me, specifically, my physical conditioning. “Next semester, after you have done the marathon, you should do some non-running conditioning for core strength and flexibility. I got you into a class with Bob the Knob George, the best exercise physiologist in the state, if not the world. He normally only takes people he knows personally, but I vouched for you, and he agreed to let you register. I will send you the unique number for the section and you can log on to the registrar’s site and add the class. Private students pay him $10K per year to train them, but you can get it for just three semester hours worth of tuition. Do everything he tells you too, even if you don’t see why at first, and never miss a session with him. He is the best! And if he wants you to come to his lab for tests and studies, also do it without delay.”

We finished our 15 miles plus sprint and cool down laps, and then Suzanne split to catch her ride to the away soccer games, one in Waco early Saturday morning and the later one the next day in Killeen. She gave me a very lingering kiss, and made me promise to be ready for her on Sunday night. I told her, quite honestly, that I was always ready for her, and always would be. She looked at me funny, then gave me a hug so strong I had trouble breathing, and not just because her arms were so buff. My runner’s high then kicked in so strongly that my shower and shampoo (with conditioner, as Suzanne and Lara both doggedly insisted) was an almost psychedelic experience. At least I told myself it was only the runner’s high.


Dwight had grown complacent, observing Suzanne repeat her routine over and over, so he returned to his car from his perch near the running track, intending to watch her car and the exit from her office for a few more hours until rush hour abated. He was lucky to have the monitors inside her office, as she quickly gathered up her stuff, threw it in her book bag, and picked up her soccer duffle and locked her door. Dwight did not have eyes on the hallway, and when she did not appear at her car, he went on alert. He was about to panic when she emerged from the front exit of the building and got into a waiting white van that Dwight had seen before. Soccer game somewhere then, he supposed. Dwight started his car and followed, a few car lengths behind, as the van headed south on Speedway, then turned left on MLK and then turned left again and climbed up the very short ramp and blended into the northbound lanes of the Interstate.

Suzanne was seated in the front passenger seat of the old van, which was equipped with huge rear view mirrors on both sides. Due to her father’s profession, and her unusual multinational childhood, she was always very conscious of the traffic around her. When other kids driving with their dads were playing ‘license plate poker’ and ‘find the next letter’ on the road signs, she was playing ‘spot the tail, burn the tail’, and when she was a little older, learning to successfully trail people herself. She had subconsciously made the car following her before, but now she noticed it and its tradecraft very explicitly. It was moving up and back, interposing multiple cars, and moving from lane to lane well, and if Suzanne had been driving, she might not have picked it up. But as a passenger, especially with that giant outside rear view mirror, she had spotted it quickly. Plus the young guy driving it looked familiar.


My afternoon classes were also exam reviews, and I felt I was already prepared for next week. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the dorm room at my desk, checking off all my schoolwork to do’s, and then beat feet to early dinner. My post run high was fading, and it was replaced by some serious hunger. It was steak night, so I stocked up on red meat, for the growing boy in me. I didn’t see anyone I knew, but caught sight of two girls I hadn’t seen before sending Suzie for me. I introduced myself to one, Nancy Bergeron, who was in the same situation as Ralph, having just moved into the dorm from a floor lounge at the last remaining girl’s only dorm. She was gorgeous, charming, bright as a new penny, and gave me her mobile number. My cup runneth over. I didn’t have to be at Peggy’s until 8:30, so a nap was on the agenda, and I went to sleep immediately.

The alarm went off at 8:00 PM, and I quickly dressed, brushed my teeth, and walked to Peggy’s place. The weather was very cool, my mood was very warm. I had been in a simmering horniness mode for more than 24 hours, and Peggy was now about to be the sole object of my affections. I got there with about five minutes to spare, and sat on the back steps that led up to her upstairs apartment. The law office that occupied the bottom floor of the house was all closed up. My phone beeped with a text message from Peggy – the tour group was running late, so she would be a few minutes later than planned. I replied ‘no hay problema’ with a :) < =8 emoticon. She texted back :) ~ which looked very promising.

A few minutes later I heard the distinctive exhaust note of her car, a parking space on campus being one of the few perks of her museum junior curator and tour guide job. She quickly stowed the car in the garage, and we walked up the stairs together, arm in arm. She locked the door behind us and said “I have to take a quick shower. I am really funky from walking all over campus and then all over the center with the tour group!” I laughed, took her hands in mine, and shook my head no.

She looked puzzled as I begin to unbutton her blouse, removed her bra and skirt, and picked her up by the waist and deposited her on the kitchen table. I pulled up a chair and sat between her legs, tugging on her panties.

“Oh, Robbie, I am really very sweaty and…”

She never got to say anything else, as I tugged her panties down, spread her legs, and buried my face between them. She was very aromatic, but my lizard brain was right at home, and I was instantly in a complete frenzy. Her hesitancy had disappeared, and her Suzie was signaling with rocketing intensity. I was plugged right into her, and my tongue began to scratch her right where she was itching. I was a gourmet at a tasting. She was funky, nasty, sweaty, bordering on the ammoniac, and I loved every molecule of it. Maybe it was latent demand from watching Ermie eat Millie, maybe it was Peggy’s big strong legs and lollapalooza ass, but whatever it was I was up for it, literally and figuratively. I pushed her legs up into the air, and dove even further into her snatch. She reached out and grabbed my head and pulled it into her, just as I began to suck her sweet and fully engorged clit. She shook, and growled, and came, flooding my face with fantastic sauce, which I quickly made to disappear, and began to root for more.

She grunted and worked my head with her hands, and I sucked on her clit as she came again. “Yes!” she murmured. “Eat my dirty pussy!” My kind of girl. My kind of pussy, too. I was totally connected to her, and my every effort was tuned toward making her come again. I got déjà vu, and I wanted déjà three and four. Soon she shook again, vibrating at the waist, and I was rewarded with another tasty squirt. That was my cue. I stood up, threw off my pants and underwear, and positioned myself to enter her. But I stopped short and looked at her expectantly. Her eyes opened, and she smiled up at me coyly.

Suddenly she was in her Betty Boop character. “I think this wild man is going to fuck me, yes he is. Just use me for his pleasure. Ram that dick into me with no mercy. Yes he will!”

And I did. In one swift stroke I slipped all the way into her hot, wet, and totally wonderful pleasure palace. She put both hands on my buttocks, and squeezed as hard as she could.

“I knew it, I knew he was going to fuck me, and there’s nothing I can do but just take it! This nasty man will crawl up on top of me and use all his strength to fuck me just as deep and as hard as he can. I just know he will!”

I did just that. I moved up onto the kitchen table, which luckily was a big antique with a strong and wide base, just like Peggy. I began a slow and inexorable drive to penetrate her fully. I started very slowly, pushing as deep into her as I could and putting as much of my weight and strength as I could into the effort. She spread her legs a little wider and let go of my butt and used her arms to grip the edges of the table. I shifted my weight right onto her center of gravity, and stroked a little faster. She opened her eyes and locked them onto mine, as I smiled what I hoped was a feral, yet loving grin. Her Suzie was my guide, and it was singing loud and dulcet tones that moved right into my brain. She began to use her big bad legs to meet my thrusts with their power driving her upward yet her pussy was yielding completely to me. It was an amazing ballet of coordinated lust, thrust, and tenderness, and it was dance I wanted to dance forever.

Her eyes went wide, her features twisted, and I realized she was about to come, after just a few strokes. She had a shocked expression on her face, as if she was surprised about it too, and then she lurched up into me and I felt her hot box grab my dick, hard. It pulsed one, two, three times, so hard it almost hurt, and her Suzie pulsed loudly and sweetly in perfect synchrony. I was reminded of when I took a nasty fall on the tennis court and then being inside a slammingly loud MRI machine that surrounded me while its pounding noises went right through me. Then a look of calm and peace spread across her face, and she smiled at me. It just made me harder and crazier, and I began stroking again. And she moved effortlessly to meet my thrusts. Her Suzie signal was almost like a percussionist keeping time to our movements, hitting a high hat cymbal just at the point of maximum penetration. It certainly was music to my ears.

Her Suzie said to pause for a few moments, so I did, and felt her powerful breathing move my entire body up and down slightly. A contentment signal soared strongly, along with a strong carrier modulated with a clear image of me fucking her again. I smiled at her, gave her a little kiss on the lips, and then fucked even harder, tuning out all thought of her Suzie and just concentrating on getting myself off as fast as I could. Every ounce of my weight was pinning her down to the table, every erg of my muscular effort was being used to thrust into her. I realized I was in the zone, but I wanted my release. I was pushing the same elevator button over and over and the car was not coming, yet. I tuned out everything else but my pleasure, and stubbornly pounded away at her. I felt the tide began to turn and knew it was now inevitable.

Just as I was about to shoot, I pulled out and squatted right above her face, finishing off in her mouth. She took me in with a vengeance and sucked me dry with a fervor I had never before experienced and would never be able to forget. I kept my eyes on hers as she swallowed my last few drops, watching her beatific expression in wonder. I had never felt so accepted, so satisfied, and so loved. I plopped myself out of her mouth, climbed back on top of her, and spread myself out to maximize our skin contact with each other. She began gently kissing my chin and cheeks, and sighed as she bore all my weight with ease. She hooked her legs behind my knees and drew me even closer to her, releasing her arms from holding the table behind her and putting them over my shoulders.

She stopped kissing me and began to giggle. “The big strong man fucked me, yes he did! In fact, it was the very best fucking this poor little girl has ever had. I won’t be able to resist him anymore. I will just have to let him have his way with me anytime he wants, and do anything he wants! Yes I will!”

She paused. “Seriously, Robbie, that was beyond my wildest dreams!”

I kissed her neck. “Next time you are sweaty before one of our dates, maybe you should check with me before you shower?”

She giggled again. “I will probably think of you every time I get sweaty from now on. In fact, I may exercise a lot more just hoping the muscle memory will remind me of what just happened. But right now, Mr. Mean and Fabulous Fucker, I am going to take a shower and then we are going out for some food! Due to my changing schedule today, I had a half bottle of Zero water and half of a stale, dry bagel for lunch, and damn little for breakfast, too.” She giggled again and easily rolled me off of her and toward the floor. I was lucky to land on my feet, and she was a lot stronger than I thought. All that lovely cushioning was hiding some wrestler muscles underneath.

I joined her in the shower. First we got very practical and very clean as soon as possible. Then I indulged in some ass worship until the hot water began to fade out. When I stood up to dry off she kissed me tenderly, and said “I know after dinner you are going to expect me to suck your nasty cock, aren’t you? Yes you are. Urges, you know! I guess I’ll have to do it.” She was right on target. She kissed me again, wonderfully.


Dwight was in the parking lot at the International House of Pancakes in Waco on the interstate. Dwight had never had the occasion to go to Waco before. He could see Suzanne through the restaurant’s picture window, seated with almost a dozen other girls at a big table, eating and talking. Apparently they were quite accomplished at both. These girls were all in shape, ran as much as Suzanne did, and they put away a lot of food to keep up their metabolism. Dwight would be surprised if any of them could talk as much as Suzanne, but they sure tried. The window was big and only double pane, with no inert gas in between, so the little laser mike mounted inconspicuously on his side mirror brought in their conversations pretty well. His backroom team had hacked and found only two room reservations at the nearby Budget Inn, so apparently they were staying six to a room. That was very frugal, sort of like agency domestic per diem policy.

His smart phone app suggested local attractions for him to visit, which was one way to pass the off duty time. He would probably have to miss the Dr. Pepper museum, but the Texas Ranger museum didn’t look too bad. One of the mottos his agency trainers had adopted was “One Riot, One Ranger” and maybe Dwight could learn a little background on that phrase. When the girls finished their sumptuous repast and moved to the motel, Dwight was able to find a parking spot that commanded a view of every door to every room in the place. Of course, that was not much of an accomplishment since almost every parking space in the lot did too.


We went down stairs and Peggy opened the garage door and we climbed into her car. I noticed a big portfolio of drawings and lots of Art History books on the back seat. I asked her about her job and her major, and she launched into an extended description. “Well, I am an Art History major, about to be one of 3,000 or so graduates who chase maybe three real non-teaching museum jobs that come open each year.”

She rounded the block from the alley behind her house and then turned east on 12th, moving patiently through traffic and red lights, but making better progress than she would have on 6th or 7th, especially on a Friday night. She continued, “Those three jobs can pop up anywhere in the world, with Europe most likely, usually as museum senior curators retire or die, and all the people in the hierarchy below them move up a step and a ‘grunt work’ job opens up for a recent graduate hire who will actually do most of the work.”

She laughed. “But I do love the work, enough to keep pursuing such a low expected value path, apparently. For example, at the center right now, in between giving tours, I am cataloging a collection of very old erotic books that was donated by a recently deceased ESU alum from Midland/Odessa. He was a very rich oilman, and apparently his secret passion was collecting original erotica in Latin and Greek. Once his family figured out what all those books were, they couldn’t wait to donate them to somebody, and not the First Baptist Church, either! They made ESU promise that we would never reveal the name of the donor, and that we would take physical possession of the collection as soon as possible. Some of them appear to be original manuscripts that no one has published anything about before, and that makes it all worthwhile for me. And for one of the classics professors, who is bugging me every day to finish my intake procedures so he can study them and publish papers on them.”

“Do you read Latin and Greek?” I asked. Why were all the women I liked so much more classically educated than I?

“Yes. My grandparents came here from Greece, so they taught me, and I went to Catholic school that did Latin immersion. And my mother’s family is from France, and she taught me French, and Russian which she studied in school, and I also picked up Italian and German via complete immersion on several semesters aboard, otherwise I would not have a chance at one of those three jobs even if I found an opening. By the way, after supper, I may experiment on you using some techniques I was just reading about this morning!”

Sometimes education is a very fine thing. We passed the hospital on our right, then turned right to go south on the Interstate access road, and then back east on 7th. The traffic around us was a eclectic mix of the “Keep Austin Weird” set in Smart Cars, Nissan Leafs, Honda Civics and little Japanese pickups with biodiesel bumper stickers; the SXSW and Venture Capital crowd in Fiskers, Teslas and Hybrid SUV’s; y los vatos locos in tricked out lowriders with pneumatic suspension systems and illuminated wheel wells; and finally another group of just regular old traditional families out for dinner. But they all liked Tex-Mex food on the eastside on a Friday night, and Peggy pulled up to a crowded parking lto at a classic looking place right out of a location casting directors’ notebook. To the untrained eye, it looked like the ‘before’ video from an episode of “Restaurant Impossible’ except that at ten minutes to midnight more than two dozen people were lined up outside the door waiting for a table. My mom taught accounting classes for the hospitality management studnets at her junior college, and taught restaurant business rules of thumb to all us kids at the dinner table, so I knew that this kind of population pressure meant bar sales, a good per seat average, fast table turns, and solid profits.

“Oh, it smells wonderful!” Peggy exclaimed, after ducking her head inside the door to check the line inside. “The line is not bad compared to most weekends and the chalkboard says they still have cabrito! I guess the F1 crowd hasn’t discovered this place yet.”

Now she had my full attention. Cabrito, or barbequed kid goat, was one of my favorites, but restaurants seldom did it justice. I had it many times at my mom’s friend’s place down near Three Rivers. They butcher the young goat, marinate it in secret mixtures of wine or spirits, peppers, and onions, and then build a fire in a pit, wait until it burns down to mostly coals, and then wrap the goat in corn shucks (old school) or aluminum foil (new school) and bury it in the coals and ashes for at least twelve hours of slow cooking. Done right, it was moist, tender, and melted in your mouth. But most places managed to serve it overcooked, tough, and gamey. I told Peggy about it as we moved up in the line. She said she also had some fond memories of the place in south Texas, too, and patted my butt.

We finally made it up far enough in the line to get inside, and the interior was circa 1957, and classically decorated. Besides the paintings of Benito Jaurez, Cantinflas’, and Flore’ Sylvestre, there was even a framed and autographed photo of Mil Mascaras. It was flanked in the other place of highest honor by the ever venerable black velvet canvas rendering of JFK. Peggy pointed them out, and said “These were hung contemporaneously, with perfect provenance!” As we passed the cash register, the owner and founder sat behind the counter and eyed the line carefully, checking people out as they paid their tabs, and probably estimating what the incoming orders would be to give a little feed forward data to the kitchen. Behind him on the wall was his honorable discharge from the US Army, just after the Korean War. Three of the four waiters looked like younger versions of him. Next to his DD214 form there was a giant calendar, with the restaurant’s name and address, and on each page, a different but always busty and bare breasted Aztec princess, with erect nipples and dark eyes, and a prominent Mestizo nose, just about to either ravished by hordes of warriors or become a human sacrifice. I had seen calendars like this since I was about five, traveling with my father all over south and west Texas on sales trips, and perhaps this early erotica had jump started my always strong attraction to Latina beauties and other dark haired girls. I also realized that my actual experiences with them had not begun to live up to my adolescent fantasies and current expectations.

September 2018
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