six_of_one
10-28-2008, 04:52 PM
A preface: all of this is 100% true. I know it will sounds stylized and sometime a bit trite, but I can't help myself, I was a writing major in college. I am mostly interested in telling my story, as it brings back many good memories. The following is part one, as I am very long winded. :blush:
Part One:
I was 19 or 20 at the time, attending a large state university that I despised. The classes were overcrowded and taught by graduate students, who either didn't know the material or didn’t care enough to teach it well. The social atmosphere was thick with Greek-lifers and cliques from Long Island and New York City that graduated from high school parties to college parties.
I didn’t fit into these categories, and knew no one on campus. Sure, I chit-chatted with my suitemates, but they didn’t invite me to their parties, or introduce me to their friends. Needless to say, I sought social titillation elsewhere, and this weekend I chose to visit an old flame from high school who was attending a small and private liberal arts college just down the Hudson.
Some explanations before I go further: this girl (we will call her Diana, after the Roman goddess of the hunt) was tall with a athletic build. She walked on to both the rugby and ski teams at college, and excelled in anything she tried. Diana was a engineering major who enrolled in the 5 year graduate program as a freshman, so when it came to academics, she wasn’t fooling around.
We had dated for a few months in high school, and actually never really broke up. I was off to college, she had another year, it was just assumed that things would happen, and to try and keep up a relationship wouldn’t be fair to either of us. We would fool around when I came home for holidays, but I heard she was seeing other guys, having fun, doing what any high school senior should. Sure, I was jealous, but you can’t hold on forever.
I was a little nervous driving down to see her, she has this hold on me that I could never quite put into words, and the thought of spending a weekend with her was overwhelming. Even if nothing happened between the two of us, I was sure she would show me a good time. She had a way of taking you into her world, making you feel as if you have always been there; comfortable yet nervous, aware that anything could happen, and if it did, it would be all right.
I arrived just after dark, it was November or early December, so the night came early. She was waiting for me just inside the doors to her dorm, reading a physics textbook and wearing a somewhat ridiculous woolen hat. I gathered up my stuff, but decided to have a cigarette before I went to the door. I sat there on the hood of my car watching her read for a good ten minutes. Students came and went, laughing, shouting, throwing snowballs at the door, but she never looked up. I stomped out the cigarette and headed to meet her.
When I got to the door, I leaned my forehead against the glass and let my breath fog up the pane for a moment. I wrote a backwards “Hi” in the moisture and knocked. She looked up and smiled. I walked though the doors and up the stairs to her dorm room, enduring her persistent goosing. I had a feeling then that it would be a fantastic weekend.
It was dinner time, and I was hungry, so she gathered up some of her friends and we all piled into cars and headed over to some Mexican place to eat. Everyone was in good spirits, and after I whipped out my newly-minted fake ID, we were able to enjoy a few rounds of wine before we headed back to the college.
Some of the group wandered off, and we were down to Diana, her friends Diz and the two Rebeccas, Diana’s pseudo-boyfriend Matt, and myself. Diz was an art and theatre double major; tall, curvy, long blonde hair. She was powerful and intense, and had a dark sense of humor. I later found out that she was a lesbian and had tried dating Diana, which made a lot of sense.
The two Rebeccas were tall and short, both very cute in different ways. Tall Rebecca was adorable with tight curled hair and luscious brown eyes. She was wearing a short plaid skirt with black leggings, and a tight wool sweater. If you can picture a rosy-cheeked 19 year old college girl in autumn, you can imagine her.
Short Rebecca was not all that short, just shorter than her friend. She was about 5’ 3” and had hazel eyes, and a sandy and playful head of hair. She was one of the girls who had breasts that seemed out of proportion to the rest of her body. I couldn’t tell you what size they were, but you would have no idea how big they were from looking at her tiny frame. I dated a girl like that later in college, and I would always be surprised to see them.
Matt was a skier, and somewhat of a dope. He didn’t say much, if anything, the whole night. I honestly can’t recall what he looked like, except that he had jet black hair and walked with a bit of limp.
We were playing some card game, a drinking game, to finish off a small bottle of rum that Diana had. It was only a matter of time before we’d need more, and I was the man with the ID. I offered to make the journey into the cold to pick up supplies, but everyone decided to go. We hit the night air, bundled in sweaters and mittens and woolen hats, noses warmed by wine and spirits high. I’m sure there was some singing and marching along the way, but the details escape me. I do remember walking in a tight formation, arms linked, across the quad to the corner liquor store a few blocks away.
We arrived at the store, and realized we had to make a decision: what to buy. I gathered up the cash, and we only had about 30 dollars on us. The restaurant had been expensive, with several rounds of wine and dessert, and we were college kids, after all. Matt The Dude wanted beer, big surprise, the Rebeccas wanted more wine, I could have taken anything. Diana and Diz were in a huddle, concocting some evil plan. Evil indeed: they wanted tequila. I have nothing against that particular spirit, it just always gets me into trouble. The only time I ever got into a fight was on tequila. The only time I have ever passed out from drinking I was on tequila. I conveniently forgot about these past indiscretions and agreed. Tequila it was.
Snow had started to fall, slow at first, then blinding white. The six of us huddled together and made our way back to the dorms, more silent this time. The dorm Diana lived in was old, over 125 years old. The rooms had been carved out of larger open spaces, libraries and dining rooms, massive bedrooms and servant’s quarters, ballrooms. Diana’s room was on the fourth floor; cramped with six of us, ten feet by 8 feet, maybe, with 14 foot ceilings. There was a small window that was out of reach, maybe 10 feet up the wall opposite the door. The more modern firedoors sucked the air from the room when opened, taking a giant breath that pulled the curtains from the window, even with it closed. Someone put on a mix tape, mostly trip hop and Johnny Cash, the playing cards came back out, we played something but the rules were vague. I was never good at picking up new card games, and with the buzz I had it was impossible.
Diana was on the floor with Matt the Dude, lying on her back, head propped up by pillows. He sat at her feet, like a dog, a stupid but loyal dog. The two Rebeccas sat on the bed, which was set high to allow for storage underneath. Diz sat across from me on a plastic crate, I pictured the criss-cross that was surely forming on her ass and laughed. Laughed out loud, as it turned out, and everyone looked at me and burst into similar jolly laughter.
I did my best to appear functional, but my vision was yellow and orange. We had somehow drank two of the three bottles of liquor in what seemed like minutes. I noticed that the song on the stereo was playing for the fourth time. The candle in the room had burned out, and it was nearly black, the only illumination coming from the green glow of the stereo and the darkened murmur of the computer’s screensaver. I was drunk, for sure, but happy, ecstatic, euphoric. I realized that no one had spoken for at least three songs and the cards were abandoned on the ground. I had been drifting again, maybe ten minutes this time, and had lost track of everyone. Diz had moved from the crate, I imagine the criss cross had become too uncomfortable. She had moved to the floor, opposite of Matt at Diana’s torso. I couldn't make out what she was doing, but she had recline and had one leg up and one extended. Her long velvet skirt had crept up to the knee, and I could glimpse all the way up to her dark underwear. Her white thighs glowed in the darkness, and she began moving her bent leg up and down slowly, and I soon realized, ecstatically. She was propped on an elbow, her free hand freely exploring Diana's still-clothed leg. Matt was now lying down, on his side, kissing Diana's neck. His hand had pushed up her sweater and shirt and was under the fabric. Diz began to move to the now-exposed flesh of Diana's stomach, which was flat and muscled. Diana was very deliberately moving side to side, and I caught a glimpse of her hipbone in the green light.
Hipbones. They are, without a doubt, my favorite female feature. There is something about the contour, the softness of the skin yet firmness of the structure beneath, something about them I could never try and explain. I instinctively reached down and felt the bulge in my pants. I couldn't help myself. At that moment, this was all I needed, to be a witness, a voyeur to this silent passion in front of me. To be honest, I had forgotten that I could be seen, that I was still in the room, and I suddenly became very self-conscious. Diz and Diana weren't looking at me, and I couldn't even see Matt's face from my vantage point. I turned to my left to look at the bed and saw the Rebeccas, sitting upright with legs entwined, kissing each other. Kissing each other while watching me.
Part One:
I was 19 or 20 at the time, attending a large state university that I despised. The classes were overcrowded and taught by graduate students, who either didn't know the material or didn’t care enough to teach it well. The social atmosphere was thick with Greek-lifers and cliques from Long Island and New York City that graduated from high school parties to college parties.
I didn’t fit into these categories, and knew no one on campus. Sure, I chit-chatted with my suitemates, but they didn’t invite me to their parties, or introduce me to their friends. Needless to say, I sought social titillation elsewhere, and this weekend I chose to visit an old flame from high school who was attending a small and private liberal arts college just down the Hudson.
Some explanations before I go further: this girl (we will call her Diana, after the Roman goddess of the hunt) was tall with a athletic build. She walked on to both the rugby and ski teams at college, and excelled in anything she tried. Diana was a engineering major who enrolled in the 5 year graduate program as a freshman, so when it came to academics, she wasn’t fooling around.
We had dated for a few months in high school, and actually never really broke up. I was off to college, she had another year, it was just assumed that things would happen, and to try and keep up a relationship wouldn’t be fair to either of us. We would fool around when I came home for holidays, but I heard she was seeing other guys, having fun, doing what any high school senior should. Sure, I was jealous, but you can’t hold on forever.
I was a little nervous driving down to see her, she has this hold on me that I could never quite put into words, and the thought of spending a weekend with her was overwhelming. Even if nothing happened between the two of us, I was sure she would show me a good time. She had a way of taking you into her world, making you feel as if you have always been there; comfortable yet nervous, aware that anything could happen, and if it did, it would be all right.
I arrived just after dark, it was November or early December, so the night came early. She was waiting for me just inside the doors to her dorm, reading a physics textbook and wearing a somewhat ridiculous woolen hat. I gathered up my stuff, but decided to have a cigarette before I went to the door. I sat there on the hood of my car watching her read for a good ten minutes. Students came and went, laughing, shouting, throwing snowballs at the door, but she never looked up. I stomped out the cigarette and headed to meet her.
When I got to the door, I leaned my forehead against the glass and let my breath fog up the pane for a moment. I wrote a backwards “Hi” in the moisture and knocked. She looked up and smiled. I walked though the doors and up the stairs to her dorm room, enduring her persistent goosing. I had a feeling then that it would be a fantastic weekend.
It was dinner time, and I was hungry, so she gathered up some of her friends and we all piled into cars and headed over to some Mexican place to eat. Everyone was in good spirits, and after I whipped out my newly-minted fake ID, we were able to enjoy a few rounds of wine before we headed back to the college.
Some of the group wandered off, and we were down to Diana, her friends Diz and the two Rebeccas, Diana’s pseudo-boyfriend Matt, and myself. Diz was an art and theatre double major; tall, curvy, long blonde hair. She was powerful and intense, and had a dark sense of humor. I later found out that she was a lesbian and had tried dating Diana, which made a lot of sense.
The two Rebeccas were tall and short, both very cute in different ways. Tall Rebecca was adorable with tight curled hair and luscious brown eyes. She was wearing a short plaid skirt with black leggings, and a tight wool sweater. If you can picture a rosy-cheeked 19 year old college girl in autumn, you can imagine her.
Short Rebecca was not all that short, just shorter than her friend. She was about 5’ 3” and had hazel eyes, and a sandy and playful head of hair. She was one of the girls who had breasts that seemed out of proportion to the rest of her body. I couldn’t tell you what size they were, but you would have no idea how big they were from looking at her tiny frame. I dated a girl like that later in college, and I would always be surprised to see them.
Matt was a skier, and somewhat of a dope. He didn’t say much, if anything, the whole night. I honestly can’t recall what he looked like, except that he had jet black hair and walked with a bit of limp.
We were playing some card game, a drinking game, to finish off a small bottle of rum that Diana had. It was only a matter of time before we’d need more, and I was the man with the ID. I offered to make the journey into the cold to pick up supplies, but everyone decided to go. We hit the night air, bundled in sweaters and mittens and woolen hats, noses warmed by wine and spirits high. I’m sure there was some singing and marching along the way, but the details escape me. I do remember walking in a tight formation, arms linked, across the quad to the corner liquor store a few blocks away.
We arrived at the store, and realized we had to make a decision: what to buy. I gathered up the cash, and we only had about 30 dollars on us. The restaurant had been expensive, with several rounds of wine and dessert, and we were college kids, after all. Matt The Dude wanted beer, big surprise, the Rebeccas wanted more wine, I could have taken anything. Diana and Diz were in a huddle, concocting some evil plan. Evil indeed: they wanted tequila. I have nothing against that particular spirit, it just always gets me into trouble. The only time I ever got into a fight was on tequila. The only time I have ever passed out from drinking I was on tequila. I conveniently forgot about these past indiscretions and agreed. Tequila it was.
Snow had started to fall, slow at first, then blinding white. The six of us huddled together and made our way back to the dorms, more silent this time. The dorm Diana lived in was old, over 125 years old. The rooms had been carved out of larger open spaces, libraries and dining rooms, massive bedrooms and servant’s quarters, ballrooms. Diana’s room was on the fourth floor; cramped with six of us, ten feet by 8 feet, maybe, with 14 foot ceilings. There was a small window that was out of reach, maybe 10 feet up the wall opposite the door. The more modern firedoors sucked the air from the room when opened, taking a giant breath that pulled the curtains from the window, even with it closed. Someone put on a mix tape, mostly trip hop and Johnny Cash, the playing cards came back out, we played something but the rules were vague. I was never good at picking up new card games, and with the buzz I had it was impossible.
Diana was on the floor with Matt the Dude, lying on her back, head propped up by pillows. He sat at her feet, like a dog, a stupid but loyal dog. The two Rebeccas sat on the bed, which was set high to allow for storage underneath. Diz sat across from me on a plastic crate, I pictured the criss-cross that was surely forming on her ass and laughed. Laughed out loud, as it turned out, and everyone looked at me and burst into similar jolly laughter.
I did my best to appear functional, but my vision was yellow and orange. We had somehow drank two of the three bottles of liquor in what seemed like minutes. I noticed that the song on the stereo was playing for the fourth time. The candle in the room had burned out, and it was nearly black, the only illumination coming from the green glow of the stereo and the darkened murmur of the computer’s screensaver. I was drunk, for sure, but happy, ecstatic, euphoric. I realized that no one had spoken for at least three songs and the cards were abandoned on the ground. I had been drifting again, maybe ten minutes this time, and had lost track of everyone. Diz had moved from the crate, I imagine the criss cross had become too uncomfortable. She had moved to the floor, opposite of Matt at Diana’s torso. I couldn't make out what she was doing, but she had recline and had one leg up and one extended. Her long velvet skirt had crept up to the knee, and I could glimpse all the way up to her dark underwear. Her white thighs glowed in the darkness, and she began moving her bent leg up and down slowly, and I soon realized, ecstatically. She was propped on an elbow, her free hand freely exploring Diana's still-clothed leg. Matt was now lying down, on his side, kissing Diana's neck. His hand had pushed up her sweater and shirt and was under the fabric. Diz began to move to the now-exposed flesh of Diana's stomach, which was flat and muscled. Diana was very deliberately moving side to side, and I caught a glimpse of her hipbone in the green light.
Hipbones. They are, without a doubt, my favorite female feature. There is something about the contour, the softness of the skin yet firmness of the structure beneath, something about them I could never try and explain. I instinctively reached down and felt the bulge in my pants. I couldn't help myself. At that moment, this was all I needed, to be a witness, a voyeur to this silent passion in front of me. To be honest, I had forgotten that I could be seen, that I was still in the room, and I suddenly became very self-conscious. Diz and Diana weren't looking at me, and I couldn't even see Matt's face from my vantage point. I turned to my left to look at the bed and saw the Rebeccas, sitting upright with legs entwined, kissing each other. Kissing each other while watching me.