CHAPTER ONE: Audrey Ross
I chewed on my thumbnail and hit the browser’s refresh button again. Dammit! The page showing my midterm grades still hadn’t updated. I was a nervous wreck, sitting on my bed with my legs and fingers crossed. I kept hitting the refresh button on my laptop every ten seconds, waiting for the midterm grade to be posted so I could finally exhale.
My iPhone buzzed and I took my eyes off the computer long enough to glance at the screen. It was my BFF Rachel calling again. She knew I was on pins and needles about my grades and had been trying to get me to come to Lenny’s, the off-campus dive bar where the Trent State football team hung out. The night would involve lots of beer, loud partying, drunken dancing, and, if you were Rachel, sex with her boyfriend, Duke, the captain of the football team, most likely in the backseat of his car.
“Come blow off some steam with us,” Rachel pleaded the first two times she’d called. “Stop worrying so much about your grades and come have some fucking fun!”
That sort of thing worked for Rachel, but I wasn’t Rachel, not even close. I cared about my grades. I never drank or partied. I had two left feet, so I never danced. And I wouldn’t be having sex with anyone any time soon. In fact, I’d never had sex. I had never even come that close. I was probably the only twenty-two-year-old virgin on the Trent State campus.
It wasn’t that I was averse to having sex or that I was saving myself for marriage or anything so noble as that. No, the truth was, I had the desire. I’d just never had the chance.
I’d been dating the same boy since the tenth grade and he didn’t believe in sex before marriage. Danny Dickie was the son of a Baptist preacher back home in Orlando. He was a senior at Laughton College all the way on the other side of the state now, getting a degree in history (yawn). His goal in life was to teach middle school history. I’ll say it again: he wanted to teach middle school history. How incredibly boring was that?
I had no idea why I’d stayed with Danny so long. I mean, he barely believed in making out. I probably hadn’t had his tongue in my mouth more than a dozen times in six years. And I’d never had his hands on my tits or his finger in my pussy.
God forbid that happen! Fire and brimstone, oh my!
The few times I got Danny alone and tried to throw myself at him, he acted like the devil himself was trying to grab hold of his cock.
“Come on, Danny, you know you want it,” I whispered as we sat in the back of his dad’s Buick the night of our senior prom. I was rubbing his thigh and pressing my boob against his arm. “Just let me touch it. If you let me touch yours, I’ll let you touch mine.”
“Gee, I dunno, Audrey.”
“Just let me touch your cock and you can put a finger in my—”
I grabbed his cock and he shot out of the car like a race horse bolting out of a racing chute. I remember squeezing my knees together as he silently drove me home and then asked me to please get out of his father’s car.
He didn’t even walk me to the door.
I think it was because he had a big stain on the front of his pants that I’d caused. Oops! Sorry...
I think that was the night I learned to masturbate.
My fingers and I had since been best friends.
I hadn’t had much luck with guys in college, either. Of course, I still considered myself spoken for with Danny, but I was starting to think that I’d wasted six years of not getting laid for nothing.
I’d see Danny at home during spring break. If he didn’t have the balls to break up with me, I guess I’d have to take his balls in hand and do it myself.
I did have one hot and heavy make-out session with a boy named Victor something-or-other at the Trent State homecoming dance last year.
Rachel introduced me to Victor. He was a friend of whichever football player she was dating, i.e. fucking, at the time.
Victor wasn’t that good looking, but he was nice and courteous and I could feel his cock pressing against me as we slow danced to an old Madonna song.
I liked the way his cock felt, semi-hard, rubbing against my belly. The more we danced, the more it rubbed and the harder it got.
Rather than pulling away, I pulled Victor closer so his cock would press into me even more. I remembered him sighing into my ear. I remembered how wet my panties were, how stiff my nipples were, how determined I was to lose my virginity.
There was a longing deep inside me that Victor was bringing to the surface. I think I kissed him first, and then he kissed me back, and then I dragged him off the dance floor and into a janitor’s closet down the hall from the gym where the dance was being held.
We were making out like crazy. I was groping him. He was trying to grope me, but his hands kept missing their mark. Rachel told me later that Victor had never had sex either. It was a case of the blind leading the blind. Or the blind trying to fuck the blind.