I was in psych 101, trying to catch up on some of my reading before my night
class started, when this chirpy redhead with more tits than brains sat down
in the desk next to me.
“Hi, my name’s Andrea Page! What’s your name?”
“Debbie Chang,” I said, reluctantly putting down my book, eyeing her with
suspicion.
Andrea held out her hand for me to shake. I took her hand in mine and held
it for a moment, then let it go.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said primly. “So… What’s your major?”
“History.”
“I haven’t picked a major yet. It’s so hard to choose, y’know? I wanna do
this, I wanna do that. I can never make up my mind.” She twirled a strand
of red hair between her fingers.
“Uh huh.”
She had big, wide, naive blue eyes and a sprinkle of freckles across her
nose. Her red hair was teased up into a frizzy spray. What really caught
my attention was the tight, white silk blouse pulled taut across her large
jugs. I have a thing for big tits. Down below, she had on a long black
skirt, and her stockingless legs were curled beneath her chair. Even after
what little conversation we’d had so far, I could tell she was an idiot —
one of those annoying university brats trying to land a husband, not a
degree. All she had to offer the world were
her big tits and her red hair. So why the hell was she talking to me?
“Anyway,” Andrea said, “I kind of missed the first three weeks of class,
cause I broke up with my boyfriend, and, you know how it is… I was all
upset and stuff. I was wondering if…”
“You were wondering if you could get a copy of my notes,” I said flatly.
“Right, right!” she laughed. “I could tell you were smart just looking
at you!”
And that pretty much cleared up why she was talking to me. She needed
help, so she was becoming my friend in that chirpy, leech-like way. And I
had to wonder — did she think I was smart because I’m Japanese? Or did
Andrea confuse looking like a dyke for looking smart? Because I look like a
dyke. I enjoy looking like a dyke. I wear construction boots, I keep my
black hair very short, and I wear jeans and flannel shirts. Anyone with a
lick of sense looks at me and thinks, “There goes a very butch Japanese
dyke.”
But as I looked into Andrea’s blue, innocent eyes, I could see she had
no clue that I was a lesbian. That’s probably why I decided, right
then, that I had to fuck her. On some level her innocence offended me
so much, I decided to break it.
“It’s funny you should ask me that… See, my brother took this course
last year, and I have all of his notes. He even kept copies of the
exams. Apparently the professor teaches the same stuff every year, which is
what makes these notes so valuable. If you want, we could go back to my
place, after class, and I could give you my brother’s notes for you to
photocopy. I only live five minutes from here.”
I’ve always been a good liar.
Andrea’s eyes lit up with greed. Anything that allowed her not to think was
a good thing.
“Really? Wow! That would be, like, so great! You’d really do that for
me?”
“Sure thing,” I said. “I’m sure we can come up with some way you can
pay me back.”
“Oh, absolutely!” Andrea squealed with glee. “I’d do anything for those
notes!”
That’s when the professor arrived and class began.
Andrea spent the two hours doodling pictures of unicorns and flowers
into her notebook. I spent my time stealing glimpses of Andrea and
plotting her downfall. By the end of the night, I swore to myself, her
tongue would be deep inside my cunt.
When the droning professor finally decided to call it quits, I got up to
leave, like I’d forgotten all about Andrea.
“Uh, Debbie?” said a tiny voice behind me.
I turned and looked at Andrea, then pretended to remember our
arrangement. “Oh right!” I said, loud enough for people around us to
hear. “You wanted to go back to my place!”
“Yeah,” Andrea said meekly. “Did you forget?”
“Sorry, yes.”
There were a few stares from the people still mulling around. A couple
of people looked at Andrea, their expressions saying, “Is the redhead
gay too?”
“Are you absolutely sure you want to go back to my place?” I teased, hamming
it up for our audience. “It’s not like you know me very well.”
“Well, yeah,” Andrea said, flustered and confused. “Yeah, I don’t know you,
but… So what? I mean, I can trust you and… Yeah, I want to
go to your place. You asked me, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I asked you to come back to my place, all right,” I said, with
just a hint of seduction in my voice.
A young guy snickered at my tone, but Andrea just stared at me blankly,
completely oblivious.
“Well. are we going then?” she asked meekly.
“Sure thing. If that’s what you want to do.”
I reached out and took her hand. Still confused, she let me take it,
and I led her from the room.
How could a redhead be so blonde?
I held her hand the whole five minute walk back to my apartment
building. Her reaction to the hand-holding was hilarious. I could
almost hear her brain trying to figure it out, trying to ascribe it to
me being “Japanese” or just friendly.
“Here we are,” I said, as I unlocked the door. I turned on the lights
and pointed to the couch. “Take a seat. You want something to drink?
Some juice, maybe?
“Sure,” Andrea said.
I came back with a very full glass of grape juice. When Andrea turned
to take the glass from my outstretched hand, I pretended to lose my
grip. Grape juice poured down the front of Andrea’s expensive silk
blouse. It’s an old ruse. But when you’re dealing with someone with
the IQ of a potato chip, why use A-material?
“Ohmigawd!” Andrea squealed, jumping to her feet. “Ohmigawd, my shirt!”
I clucked my tongue and shook my head. “That was awfully clumsy of you.”
“What do you mean? You spilled it on me! My blouse! Oh, it’s silk and
it’s ruined!”
“Don’t be so melodramatic. My uncle is a dry cleaner, I know how to fix
these things. It just has to soak for a while in warm water. Take off your
blouse and give it to me. Let Debbie make it all better.”
Andrea’s freckled face turned red, and her mouth opened and closed with
no sound coming out.
“Come on, come on,” I said, rolling my eyes. “We’re all girls here,
aren’t we? Besides, the longer you wait, the less likely it is I can
save your shirt. Hurry up.”
With trembling hands, Andrea untucked the blouse from her skirt and
began undoing the buttons. She took the blouse off and handed it to me.
The bra she was wearing was white and lacy, and her two plump boobs filled
it to capacity. Nice, rounded cleavage. I sure could lose myself in those
tits of hers. The bra looked fancy — definitely part of a matching set
bought at some boutique. A gift from an old
boyfriend, perhaps?
“Gee, you spilled so much grape juice on yourself, it got your bra wet too,”
I said. “Better give me that as well.”
“What? My bra? No!”
“Andrea, that bra is silk, obviously expensive, and it’s going to get
stained. Don’t be such a ninny. You don’t want it to get ruined, do you?”
“Well…” she looked down at her bra, thinking about it. “N-no. I
couldn’t take it off.”
“Why the hell not?”
She stared at me incredulously, her mouth hanging open. “Do… Do you have
a shirt you could loan me, or…?”
“Andrea,” I sighed, “just give me the fucking bra, okay? What’s the matter
with you?”
She looked flustered and embarrassed, uncertain of what to do. There
was a pause, and then she turned her back to me, reached behind, and
undid the clasp. Jackpot! Keeping one arm folded across her chest, and
still trying to remain turned away, she held out the “juicy” bra. Her
attempt to hide her enormous tits with her thin little arm was
laughable. The soft, white curves stuck out no matter what she did.
My eyes gobbled her tits up.
I snatched the bra from her outstretched hand and hurried out of the
room. With a little hot water and a squirt of dish soap, I dropped her
bra and her blouse in the kitchen sink, and swished it around. Paper
towels were sitting on the counter. I grabbed them and rushed back into the
living room. Andrea was now sitting on the couch, hunched over, her hands
covering her breasts.
“Here,” I said, holding the paper towels out to her.
She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to take a hand off a tit
and expose it to me, so she just stared at the paper towels.
“W-what’s that for?” she asked.
“To clean up the mess you made, stupid. You got grape juice all over my
floor. Go on. Take the paper towels and clean it up.”
Andrea took her right hand off her tit and I caught a glimpse of a dark,
red, swollen nipple — which she quickly tried to hide with her left arm. I
stepped back for a better perspective.
“I d-didn’t spill the juice, you did,” she said.
“Yeah, right. Just clean it up.”
She got down on her knees, trying to keep her chest covered and clean
up the mess at the same time. It took all my willpower not to laugh.
Andrea tore off paper towels, trying to do it with one hand. Her boobs
kept getting loose from her grasp like they had a mind of their own.
Mopping up the mess with one hand, clutching her big jugs to her chest
with the other, her face was beet red. Being on her hands and knees was a
good look for her. A couple of tears trailed down her face, but it just
made me hornier. Finally, she managed to wipe up the mess, and
handed me the dirty paper towels. Then she sat back down on the couch,
and concealed herself as best she could.
I dropped the used paper towels on the floor.
“I don’t mean to be cruel, Andrea, but I just don’t get it. How old are
you?”
“Wh-why? I’m, twenty one.”
“I’m twenty five. You’re in first year university?”
Andrea nodded.
“I’m in third year. Seeing as how we’re both grown women, in
university, is there really a need to hide your breasts from me like
we’re teenagers or something? We’ve both got breasts — yours are just
a little… fatter, than mine.”
She winced at the word ‘fatter’. Just like I knew she would.
“It’s…” she stuttered. “I can’t… I…”
“Look at me,” I said.
Her face red with shame, Andrea looked up from the floor and into my
eyes. She was so pathetic and adorable — flushed, humiliated,
frightened, crying a little. All the things I love in a woman.
While she watched in amazement, I slowly undid my shirt, and then let it
drop to the floor. I reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. My lemon
sized tits sprang forward, my tiny pink nipples erect. I stood there,
making no move to cover myself up.
“Feel better?” I grabbed my tits playfully and shook them at her. “Now
we’re both topless. Okay? They’re breasts. It’s not that big a deal.
Jesus Christ, be an adult about it.”
Andrea laughed nervously, and slowly took her hands away from her boobs.
She remained hunched over, but I still got a good look at her jugs. White,
round, firm, big as softballs, with areolas the size of quarters. Her
nipples were a dark red, and jutted out like pinkie fingers. I couldn’t
wait to suck on them.
“I’m, I never…” Andrea stammered. “Even, at the gym, I don’t… I don’t
like to be naked… Even in front of women. It’s… I have these great
big boobs, and it’s… I always feel like people are always staring at me!
They think I’m stupid because I have big boobs.”
As casually as I could, I sat down next to her on the couch. “Is it really
so bad when people stare at them?”
“N-no. Um, well, sometimes it’s… It can be… a pain. But, other
times. I… I kind of… I like being looked at.”
“Lean back,” I commanded. “Stop hunching over. Let me get a look at
these popular tits of yours.”
Andrea hesitantly did as she was told. Her breasts were now completely
exposed, thrust forward. Two soft, sexy spheres of flesh topped with
cherry red nipples. I felt my mouth water.
“Does it bother you, when I stare at your breasts?” I asked. “Does it
upset you?”
“N-no. Well, a little. But… Not, not really. It’s not like, you’re a
guy.”
I laughed and she looked confused. My god, she was such an adorable
little idiot. I let the moment stretch out as I ogled her.
“Can I touch them?” I said suddenly.
“Wha..?”
“May I touch your breasts?”
Andrea quickly hunched over, once more trying to conceal herself.
“N-no, that… That would… Would be… Why would you want to do that?”
“Andrea, why are you playing so hard to get? What’s your game?”
“What are… you talking about?”
“In front of an entire classroom full of people you practically beg me
to take you home, you spill a glass of grape juice on yourself, and now
you’re pretending to be all naive and stupid about what we are.”
“I didn’t, I… W-what, what we are?”
“Lesbians,” I said, emphasizing every syllable of the word.
“Oh… Oh my gosh, Debbie, I’m so sorry, but… But I’m not… There’s
been a… I’m not…”
“Be quiet, and stop hiding your tits from me.”
“But Debbie, I…”
“Do as your fucking told,” I growled.
Andrea took her hands off her tits and just stared at me, her mouth
hanging open. She looked frightened, lost. But too dazed to run.
I leaned over and gently touched her breasts, stroking them. “Nice,” I
purred. “Solid. Probably the best tits I’ve ever seen.”
“D-don’t, do that,” she said, feebly trying to push my hands away.
I grabbed her hands and pinned them to her sides. Lowering my face to
her tits, I slipped a nipple into my mouth and sucked on it. The flesh
puckered under my tongue, and Andrea let out a little moan — it was
difficult to tell if it was a moan of pleasure or fear. Or both. She
wasn’t fighting me in the slightest.
“People look at me,” I said, “and they know I’m a dyke. They can just
tell. Are you trying to tell me…” I paused to slurp on her tits.
“…that you didn’t know?”
“I, I did-didn’t know,” she said between groans.
“Weren’t you wondering why that guy laughed when you said you wanted to
go home with me?”
I tentatively let go of her left wrist. She made no move to push me
away, so I put my hand on her breast, cupped it in my hand, and squeezed.
“I… I don’t know why he laughed.”
“He laughed, because he thought you were a dyke, begging me to take you
back to my place, so I could fuck you. He thought you were a lesbo,
just like me.”
I nuzzled against her tits, pushing them against my face with both hands.
“I’m, not… a d-dyke.”
I got up off the couch and moved away from her. “Let’s find out what
you are. Stand up.”
“Why?”
“Do it!”
As though she were in a dream, Andrea drifted to her feet and looked at
me blankly.
“Take off your skirt,” I said.
“N-no. I…”
“You’re embarrassed?” I said with a sneer. “Shy? Don’t want me to see
your cunt? Fuck that stupid little girl bullshit. Take off your
fucking skirt.”
“I… I don’t want to…”
“Are you absolutely sure about that?” I asked. “Going to university
isn’t just about classes. It’s also about experiencing new things, and
this is new to you. So think hard about this. If you walk out that
door, you’ll never know — what would it have been like to let a dyke
have her way with you? You’ll spend the rest of your life wondering
what you missed, believe me. Picture yourself at fifty, mourning the
day you didn’t fuck another woman. So sure, feel free to leave — half
naked, without a shirt on, your tits out in the open air for all to see.”
“Or,” I continued, “you could shut your stupid mouth and take off your
fucking skirt.”
I started to silently count to ten. I figured that, if I reached ten,
and she still had her skirt on, I’d give her one of my shirts and send
her on her way. I’d had my jollies. No need to mess with her any more
than I already had. I’m evil, but I’m not a monster.
When I got to six, Andrea unbuttoned her skirt, and let it fall to the
floor. She stood before me, wearing nothing more than a lacy white thong.
“So, what does this mean?” I teased.
“I… I don’t…”
“Does that mean you want to fuck?”
“I don’t… know.”
“Are you aroused?” I asked. “Is your cunt wet? Your nipples hard?”
Andrea managed to mumble, “I don’t…” and then fell silent.
I stepped forward and put my hand down the front of her panties. Andrea let
out a gasp of surprise — she was too startled to fight me. I slid a finger
between her pubes and parted the folds of her twat. When I slipped inside
her, she was wet. Very wet. I pulled my hand out of her underwear and held
my dripping fingers under her nose.
“Know what that is?” I asked, rubbing the wet between my fingers.
Andrea shook her head.
“That’s proof you’re having a good time. You actually get off on being
humiliated, don’t you, you stupid cunt?”
“Y-yes,” she whimpered.
I grabbed a handful of red hair, pulled her mouth to mine, and I kissed
her. At first, it was like kissing a mannequin. My tongue was dancing
all by itself. And then, slowly, she responded, melting into me, her
tongue meeting mine, her arms wrapping around me and pulling me into
her. It was one of the most arousing things I have ever experienced in
my life — feeling that rigid, cold denial turn into hot, yearning, lust.
I slid my hands down her back, and cupped her plump little ass. She
leaned harder into the kiss, pushing herself even further into my mouth,
while her hands stroked frantic circles over my bare back. My mouth broke
away from hers and she was gasping for air, her eyes wild and crazy. She
had no idea what she was doing, or if she wanted to be here at all. I
grabbed hold of her thong with both hands and pulled it down her legs. She
stepped out of her panties without my having to ask.
When I took a step back from her, to look at her, I saw her about to
conceal herself again.
“Don’t,” I said. “I want to see you. Lean back, against the wall.
Spread your legs a little. Let me see what you look like.”
Timidly, she did as she was told, her back making contact with the wall. She
spread out her hands on either side of her, and spread her legs. Soft, wispy
red hair grew on her cunt. A real redhead — not that I ever doubted it.
Her body was all ripe curves of pale, milky flesh. Here and there were
freckles dotting her skin like a constellation of rusty stars.
“You’re beautiful,” I said.
Her face turned red once more. Blushing came so easily to her. It made me
jealous, in a way. I couldn’t remember the last time I had blushed.
“Turn around, let me see your ass,” I commanded.
She slowly spun about, planting her feet apart, and leaned into the
wall, a criminal about to be frisked. Her ass was wide and soft, as
white as moonlight. I quickly took off the rest of my clothes, and then
attacked her from behind, pressing myself against her back, reaching around
and grabbing at those full tits of hers. Andrea let out a moan as I teased
her nipples between my fingers, sucking at her neck like a vampire. One
hard squeeze of her boobs and she moaned, almost falling to her knees.
I trailed my hand down her back, slid it between the cheeks of her ass,
down to her cunt. For a few seconds, I fluffed her pubes, and then I
slipped a finger into her. As I toyed with her twat, Andrea bent over
slightly and thrust her ass back at me, desperate to have me pump her cunt.
Even as she did it, she seemed unaware of her own actions. Her pea brain
said no, but her happy little cunt said yes.
Of course I teased her, let my fingers swirl around the folds of her
pussy, avoiding all the hot spots, then playfully scurrying over her
clit, slipping into her cunt and pumping her.
“I’m going to make you a dyke,” I whispered in her ear. “You’ll never
want a man when I’m done with you. You’ll want cunt, day and night.
I’m going to make you love the taste of pussy. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Women will make you wet from now on. Your mouth will water at the
thought of cunt cream on your tongue. Every girl in every class —
you’ll picture her naked, in your bed. You’ll fantasize day and night
about pulling off a woman’s panties and burying your face in her mound.”
“Yes.”
I grabbed her by the hand, dragged her to my bedroom, threw her on to
the bed. She lay there, sprawled the way she fell, not looking at me.
Crawling on the bed after her, I pulled her legs apart and stared into
her cunt. Her labia were remarkably pink against the pale white flesh
surrounding it. I reached out and stroked her pussy with my fingers,
causing her entire body to shudder.
“If I suck, on your cunt, you have to suck on mine,” I said. “Do you
understand?”
“Y-yes.”
I dove into her twat, flicking at the hot little slit with my tongue.
Girl goo poured out of her, sopping the sheets. Working at her pussy
from top to bottom, teasing her with soft little touches then frantic,
violent slurps, Andrea bucked under me, groaning and sobbing with glee.
My cheeks were wet with her sex syrup as I fucked her hole with my
tongue, then concentrated on her clit. Her thighs squeezed against my
head, trying to keep me locked on her button. I decided to oblige her.
I put my entire mouth over her little pink dot and flicked it non-stop
with my tongue. Pretty soon, her groans and moans reached a crescendo.
She stiffened up, and then cried out my name as her body arched and
broke, trembling with release.
I pulled away from her and looked her up and down. Her ordinarily pale
white skin was flushed red — not just her face, but her whole neck and
chest. And she was crying, happy crying. I must have ripped a huge
emotional clog out of her system, because she was laughing and crying
and hysterical.
“I… That was… I…”
“Shut up,” I said tenderly, and moved up her body. She tried to grab
hold of me, to hug me to her, but I pushed her hands away. This wasn’t
about affection — this was about getting fucked by a pretty little
idiot. I stood up on the bed, and planted a foot on either side of her
face, then gently sat my ass on her boobs. My hands held on to the
headboard so I didn’t crush her too much.
“Andrea, I’d like to introduce you to my cunt.”
Her eyes locked on to my raven haired twat, and her blue eyes expanding
in a mixture of fear and anticipation.
“But, I… Could…”
“The next time you move your tongue,” I said, “you’re not going to be
using it for talking. You’re going to be using it for fucking. Because you
have a cunt, I’m sure your familiar with all the major areas of pleasure.
Clit, fuckhole, labia, what have you. Be sure to touch all the bases before
sliding into home plate, okay?”
I got down on my knees, straddling her face, caging her head between my
thighs. She looked so vulnerable and lost, and she couldn’t take her
eyes off my pussy. I couldn’t help but laugh at her. My twat lowered
down on to her mouth, and keeping my hands on the headboard, I started
to grind against her face.
She put her hands on my ass, and her tongue swished around lazily. As
she started to find some confidence, Andrea flicked her tongue all over, and
she pulled my ass down, trying to bury herself in my pussy. Once she got
the hang of it, after a minute or so, she was a great little slit gobbler.
I slid my cunt all over her face, ground against her chin, rode her head
like a pony. Her tongue danced over my clit, danced away, danced back
again. Her nails dug into my ass.
“Suck it,” I moaned, “suck it, you little dyke bitch. Fuck, yeah…
You little… fucking… slut. You’re my bitch now, my little fuck
toy, I can do whatever I want with you… My little redheaded fuck
bitch… Yeah, oh fuck, oh… You stupid cunt, you’re mine, you and
you’re great big boobs, you fucking… Yeah, you slut. Dyke. Stupid
whore… Oh shit… Oh…. Yes!”
And then I came, dousing her face in a blast of hot pussy juice. She
eagerly drank it all up. Oh, how far she had traveled in such a short
amount of time!
Andrea spent the night in me bed. Either because she wanted to, or
because she still had no shirt to wear, I’m not sure. We slept entwined in
each other.
I woke up first. I took the opportunity to slowly peel the blanket off
her sleeping body so I could stare at her flesh. Those tits of hers…
My god, they were perfect. I couldn’t help myself — I reached out and
cupped them in my hands and squeezed.
When Andrea woke up, she smiled nervously, and pushed my hands away. I
let her. Why not? I’d gotten what I wanted. She pulled the blanket
around her once more, embarrassed again. Shyness is a tough habit to break.
“What times is it?” she asked.
I waved a hand at the alarm clock on the bedside table.
“Oh, g-gosh!” Andrea gasped. “Ten already? I, I really have to go. I
have a… class, at, eleven and…”
“You’re not a very good liar.”
“Wh-what do you…”
“Come on. Do you think I’m falling for that?” I asked, and then I
imitated her polite little girl routine: “Oh my stars! Is that the
time? I have an appointment with Lady Botten-Botten this morning and I
simply must dash! It certainly has been pleasant sucking and fucking
with you, Deborah. We must do this again some time. Ta ta!”
“Why are you so mean?” Andrea asked, pouting.
“Because it turns you on,” I said, and pinched her cheek. “So what’s
the big rush, bubbles? Why do you want out of here so quick?”
“Debbie… I had a… a really good, time. Y’know? But… But I…”
“But what?”
“You’re… not… going to… tell, anyone, we… because, like y-you
said…” The words rushed out of her in a frantic spill, “University is
time for exploration and all that, but I’m not a dyke, not really. I mean,
you’re the only woman, I, I ever… I ever…”
“Fucked,” I said.
“Well, yeah. And, and I do… I like… Guys. I mean, I’ve only been
with guys, and… You’re nice, but..”
“You’re pathetic.”
“What?”
“Stop sniveling.”
I yanked the blanket off of her, exposing her naked body once more.
Andrea let out a squeal and tried to cover herself up with a pillow.
Grabbing her by the wrist, I dragged her into the nearby bathroom.
“Sit down,” I commanded, pushing her on to the toilet.
For the moment, she sat there naked, making no effort to conceal
herself. “W-what are you…”
“Shut up.”
I reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out my hair clippers.
Plugging them into the wall, I turned to Andrea, the clippers in my hand.
“I’m not going to tell anyone you fucked me,” I said, “and I’m not going to
tell them you’re a dyke. But when you leave here today, you’re going to
look like a dyke — do you understand?”
Tears ran down her face, but she didn’t even struggle. Humiliation
really did crank her motor. I buzzed off all her hair, cutting it so it was
as short and butch as mine. As an afterthought, I trimmed her
pubes, making her stand at attention in front of me with her legs
spread. I could actually see the arousal drooling out of her cunt.
“Now we have to dress you up,” I said, “so everyone knows you’re a dyke.”
From the closet of my bedroom, I picked out the most macho flannel shirt I
could find — something a lumberjack might wear — and made her put it on.
Then I found a pair of black jeans and handed them to her. She put them on
without a word. I had a dirty old pair of combat boots and I helped her
lace them up
“Do you want a cup of coffee before you go?” I asked.
“S-sure,” she said.
While I got the coffee ready, she sat at the kitchen table, not saying
anything. Every few seconds she ran her hands through her new haircut,
like she couldn’t believe it had really happened. I put a cup of coffee in
front of her, and she drank it.
“You want some toast or something?”
“N-no, thanks.”
When she was done her coffee, I took her to the door of my apartment. I
kissed her hard, on the lips, and patted her on the ass. “See you
around, sweetheart.”
She stumbled out of my apartment like a sleepwalker.
“Oh!” she gasped in the hallway. “What about those notes?”
I laughed and closed the door in her face.
Andrea’s still around campus, in some of my classes. We don’t talk too
much. She keeps a respectful distance, and nods at me when I nod in
greeting. I know I could fuck her again, if I wanted to. All I’d have
to do is ask. But it wouldn’t be the same. She keeps her hair short
now, and she’s always dressed in jeans, flannel shirts, and ass-kicker
boots. Like a construction worker, but with great, big tits.
***