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A break up with a woman leads a young man into a relationship with her sister.
I certainly never intended to hurt Dill. She was too sweet for me to ever want that to happen. Jane, now that might be a different story! Though, I’m not a vengeful person, in the back of my mind I am pretty sure there was some tiny kernel of retribution that I thought I might be exacting from her sister when I started sleeping with Dill.
Jane had broken my heart, and even though I couldn’t really blame her, I was hurt, and so some emotion was coming out – maybe it was revenge. Whatever it was, in the process, I unleashed a tiger that I could not control, and ultimately I paid the price for doing so.
But that was years ago, and now I’d found Dill again and in the most unlikely of places, all grown up, more desirable than ever, and available. And despite what happened between us all that time ago, as I lay in bed next to her warm body, I know that she’s in love with me. And Jane? Jane has been married for almost ten years. My guess is that she forgot about me a long time ago.
Jane was the first girl that I was in love with – I suppose one never knows for sure about love – but I know she had knocked me for a loop. Still, it wasn’t like I hadn’t had any sexual partners before her, but I had never had one that I had fallen for so hard and so completely.
In high school, I had had a longstanding relationship with Maggie Shreves. She was the first girl I had sex with, though it took us almost two years to work our way up to that level of intimacy.
Prior to that time, I had slowly but surely worked my way around the bases, until one night when we were camping out at Clear Lake State Park during Spring Break just before the end of our senior year with a group of friends – both guys and girls – I finally got Maggie aroused enough to go all the way. It had taken me the entire day to do it; actually, now that I think about it, it had taken me nearly two entire years!
We planned this camping trip as a big party for about twelve of us that all hung out together, but from the beginning, I viewed it as my best chance to finally go all the way with Maggie. I had turned 18 in February, and we had celebrated Maggie’s 18th birthday in early April, two weeks before that trip.
I thought her birthday might have been my lucky night, but Maggie got drunker than snot, and nothing came of it. But then once spring rolled around, I knew I had to take advantage of our three days in the woods without any parents around.
So, in the early afternoon of our second day of camping, we wandered off from the rest of the group while we were swimming at the lake inside the park. Maggie’s tits had gotten me so excited when they bubbled their way out of her yellow, two-piece bikini that I had to drag her off into a secluded little woods only a few hundred feet away from the shore so I could pull her tits out of the top of her suit and suck her fat nipples for a half an hour.
She had rubbed my erection through my swimming trunks during that entire time, and though I didn’t cum, she left my suit with a dark, two-inch, wet circle just under my drawstring where my precum had leaked out. With my wet spot visible, we couldn’t exactly rejoin the group.
So, while everyone else was still swimming, we had gone back to my tent in the camping area, and Maggie had taken me in her mouth, while I fingered her pussy for a good length of time. We were both really close to cumming, when we heard all of our friends returning from the lake, so we quickly covered ourselves up and pretended like we’d snuck off to get high. I don’t think that excuse fooled anyone, and to add insult to injury, I was left with a painful case of blue balls.
But finally, that night after everyone else appeared to have gone to sleep, we silently and surreptitiously consummated our relationship in our tent. Our little group had about five camping sites all right next to each other, so the closest tent was only 30 feet or so away from ours, and I had keep my hand over Maggie’s mouth after I entered her to keep her from making so much noise that we would be discovered.
As it was, there was enough heavy breathing, rustling of sleeping bags, and swaying of tent poles that I think at least a few other people figured it out. The next morning, we seemed to get more than our share of knowing glances.
But then a few weeks after that, Maggie started flirting with Jeff Jacobs, and pretty soon, it was Jeff, not me, that was fingering Maggie’s pussy, and I was left to jack off into the tissues from the box on my night stand for the rest of senior year and all through the next summer. But despite being my first, I wasn’t in love with Maggie. I’m not even sure I liked her all that much. But Jane, Jane was a different story!
I went off to school at Poly after my senior year. The school was about two hours north of my hometown; far enough away that I felt like I had escaped from canlı bahis şirketaleri the constraints of living at home, and still close enough that I could keep in touch with family and friends. And college was a lot of fun – meeting new people from everywhere, partying even more wildly than we had in high school, and availing ourselves of the charms of a huge crop of hot women.
I had a few trysts with different girls throughout the first semester resulting in a blowjob here, a handjob there, or maybe some pussy eating. I even screwed some girl at a house party on homecoming night without ever finding out her name.
And when my parents went to visit some relatives over Thanksgiving, I didn’t go home over the four day break, and managed to lure a cute, freshmen girl named Joni from New Jersey into my dorm room for a night of tentative lovemaking. Besides me, Joni was the only other person in our whole dorm that hadn’t gone home for the holiday!
But then, when the second semester started, I hit a long, dry spell, and it wasn’t until May that my fortunes turned, and it was Jane Kaminski that single-handedly did the turning! She was a year older than I was, but she lived in the dorms just like I did, in fact, in the same complex.
I met Jane through Darcey Potter, who was a high school acquaintance of my two closest college friends Pete Mills and Tom Lannon, who were both from Sacramento. For some reason, I ended up meeting a lot of cool people from Sacramento that year, and Darcey was one of the best of the bunch. She knew everyone, and she was a lot of fun, though she herself was not a looker. On the other hand, she, more often than not, hung out with all sorts of hot girls, and so Darcey was, without question, a really good person to know.
So, when I started seeing her more and more often at different places on campus and at off campus parties with a tall, pretty blonde with a punkish hairdo and a black, leather jacket, I became intrigued.
One night about two weeks before the end of my freshman year, I was at a house party hosted by a couple of guys I knew vaguely, when Darcey showed up with the hot blonde! When they entered the party and saw me, sitting on the floor in front of the hosts’ CD and vinyl collection, Darcey and the blonde wandered over.
“Hi, Billy! Commandeering the stereo again, I see!” Darcey said giggling.
“Not yet, but I’m working on it!” I answered. “I’ll have complete control before anyone knows what hit ’em!”
“Have you met, Jane?” a smiling Darcey inquired.
“Well, I’ve seen you two together, but, no, we’ve never met. It’s nice to meet you, Jane,” I said, trying to contain my excitement.
“Jane, this is Billy. He’s the music snob around here.”
“Hi, Billy! What kind of snobbery are you planning for this little soirée?” Jane asked slyly.
She had an intriguing look about her. Her blonde hair was closely cropped on the sides and rose to long, voluminous layers on the top, feathering, rather than spiking upwards before falling to her forehead in extra long fringy bangs. She somehow managed to look both stylishly hip and really feminine at the same time. Her dark brown eyes stood out against her pale skin, and her face featured high cheekbones, and this really unusual looking Eastern European nose that was somehow really sexy though I can’t explain why.
And her body! She was tall, about 5’10” and very slender, with shapely hips and a flat, toned stomach. But her best feature was her tits – big, natural 36D boobs that jutted out from her creamy chest, but didn’t sag in the least, despite their impressive size.
“I don’t consider edifying the general population to be snobbery; instead, I view it as a public service that I can offer to enhance the lives of humankind!” I said facetiously, smiling warmly at the tall, blonde girl who seemed more than willing to play along with me.
“Sounds like the ‘general population’ is in need of some serious aesthetic refinement,” Jane said, nodding toward the Survivor song spewing like vomit from the speakers (someone had cued up the CD changer to play about a hundred bad rock songs). “But considering this, how much better can it get?” Jane questioned, wondering about the rest of the hosts’ music collection.
“Well, it’s true, there’s not a lot to work with here, but I managed find an early Clash record that should shake these crotch rockers from their doldrums. I was thinking maybe ‘Jail Guitar Doors,’ for starters.
“That a good place to begin – a rocker that the Pat Benatar crowd doesn’t know is punk! Good choice!”
“Exactly!” I said, “You read my mind! And then after I’ve lulled them into thinking that they’re listening to straight ahead rock and roll, I’ll hit ’em with ‘Janie Jones’ and ‘Career Opportunities.'” And then there’s the 45 with ‘Gates of the West.’
“I’m not sure that The Clash ever ‘lulled’ anyone, but I get the strategy.” I liked her immediately. She knew some canlı kaçak iddaa shit, at least about The Clash.
“Then, I’m gonna throw the reggae stuff at them – “White Man in Hammersmith Palais” and “Police and Thieves” and maybe just maybe, they’re gonna think they’re listening to The Police!”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, but I hate to tell you that’s only six songs, and what, maybe 18 minutes of music? Then what?”
“Well, the secret weapon on this album is, of course…”
“I Fought the Law!” she interrupted. “You’re right! Even the lamest arena rocker is gonna dig that one! They all know the song, even if they’ve never heard of The Bobbie Fuller Four.”
I looked at her, kind of amazed, and smiled. “You know, what am I doing down here, when you could do this better than I can?” She blushed, smiled back, and down next to me in front of the stereo. But then I continued, “There is one real gem in this collection, though. Don’t know where the hell it came from, but it’s really good.” I pulled a CD out of the stack and showed it to her. “Have you ever heard this?” It was an album by the California post-punk band The Leaving Trains, called Kill Tunes. I handed her the CD, and she started looking it over carefully.
“It’s really interesting. Kind of awful lyrics, sort of like if Jim Morrison was a punk. But the music! – it’s really simple, but nice – four or five really kickass songs – “10 Generations,” “Private Affair,” “Terminal Island,” “She’s Looking At You,” and a few others.”
“No, I’ve never heard of them,” Jane said. “But I’d like to. Let’s play it!”
“Well, I think I’m gonna play The Clash first, just so I don’t freak out the natives right away!”
“You’re right, but let’s do it… now!” So while Darcey made the rounds talking to people, Jane joined me in our version of Pirate Radio.
I faded out a Huey Lewis and the News song and put the vinyl record on the turntable and cued up ‘Jail Guitar Doors.’ A half an hour later, five feet away from us a guy with a Van Halen T-shirt on was bouncing up and down in place to The Leaving Trains next to a girl who looked suspiciously like Cyndi Lauper, while 20 other people joined them on the dance floor. We were a success!
From that night until the end of the semester, Jane and I were inseparable. It had been a miserable spring – really rainy, cold and windy, up until only a few days before I met her officially at that house party, and now spring weather had finally arrived. It was like we were starved for fun. So every night we wandered around town going to parties or just walking around in the warm night air. Pretty soon we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
There was only one problem. We both lived in the dorms and had roommates, so as much as I could tell Jane was ready to take our romance to another level, for the first week we were together, there really wasn’t a good place for us to make love.
Instead, we tried to find private places in several parks near campus, including the university’s botanical gardens just east of the football stadium. One night four or five days after we first met, we came really close to consummating our relationship on a secluded bench in the rose garden.
I had her shirt unbuttoned, had removed her breasts from her bra, and was feeling up one of those fine globes while I sucked the nipple and areola from her other fat tit into my mouth. At the same time, I had unbuttoned her jeans, and I had my hand in her panties and two fingers up her slippery pussy.
At the same time, she had undone my zipper, reached into my shorts and pulled my rock hard cock through my fly, and was feverishly jacking me off. I was really excited, but I wanted to be sure about something before we continued. I asked Jane if I needed to put on a condom. She shook her head ‘no.’ “I’m on the pill,” she said.
So I asked her if she wanted to climb onto my stiff erection. Not five seconds after she smiled and shook her head “yes,” we heard voices coming our way from the other side of the rose garden.
Jane covered her breasts by zipping up her leather jacket and then climbed into my lap and began kissing me so as to conceal my aching boner from the view of an older couple that walked directly passed us, not five feet from where we were sitting.
We said “hello,” as did our intruders, and they wandered on, looking suspiciously back at us, as my erection rubbed against Jane’s ass crack through her tight jeans. We decided to wait until my hard-on faded before escaping the botanical gardens. But in the end, I wound up returning frustrated to the dorms with another uncomfortable case of blue balls.
Next week finals began, and we caught a break. Two of my friends from high school lived together in Muir Hall, a dorm across the quad from the complex where both Jane and I lived. Both of them were math majors, and for some really odd reason that I still do not understand, all of the mathematics canlı kaçak bahis finals were held the previous week on Thursday and Friday. Both of my buddies had finished all of the rest of their finals on the following Monday and Tuesday, so both of them were done with school for the year by late that Tuesday afternoon.
On Tuesday night, they cleaned out their dorm room, packed all their shit into their cars, and drove back home, before either Jane or I had even taken our first final. Before they left, however, I talked them into surrendering their keys to me.
Like all the rest of us that lived in the dorms, they didn’t need to be out of the room until Saturday at noon. All I had to do was put the keys into an envelope with their names and room number on it and put the envelope into their RAs mailbox before Saturday. That left Jane and me a few days of privacy in their empty dorm room.
It wasn’t the most romantic place in the world, but we were both so horny that I’m certain we wouldn’t have complained no matter what. On Wednesday morning Jane and I met there. I had brought a bag with me that contained some blankets to cover the bare mattresses and a couple of candles that I set on each of the room’s bookshelves shed a little romantic light when the time was right. Then, Jane and I slid the two single beds together, and we had a love shack prepared for ourselves for the rest of the week. Then, I gave Jane one of the two keys, and we made plans to return that night after finals and when we were done studying.
I couldn’t concentrate for my World History test to save my life, not to mention my GPA. After the final, I studied for several hours for my two tests on Thursday, and again I found it hard to concentrate. My mind was someplace else. I left the library about 7:00, walked back to my car in the dorm parking lot, and drove over to one of the local pizzerias to pick up a pie to take back to Muir. Then, I headed over to meet Jane.
I unlocked the door to my friends’ room, carrying the pizza in my free hand, and opening the door, I was a little disappointed to find the place empty. I sat down at one of the two desks, and looked out the window toward my own dorm complex. I hoped to be able to see Jane walking across the street.
The heat from the pizza was just starting to fog up the window a little, when I saw her approaching in the fading evening light. She walked only 20 feet away from the window on the sidewalk leading to the dorm’s side entrance, and I resisted the urge to tap on it to get her attention. For now, I just wanted to soak her in.
She was wearing her signature black, leather motorcycle jacket, a silk blouse, and tight jeans stuffed into a pair of suede, knee-high, high-heeled boots. And she wore at least a dozen bangles over each wrist and a pair of dangling onyx earrings. Jesus, she looked good!
A minute later, I heard her key hit the lock, and Jane strode into the room with a big smile on her face. I had to pinch myself. How was it that this girl liked me? I didn’t deserve her, and she was just way too good looking to be interested in me. “Wow, you brought dinner! Thank god, I’m starving!” She said and came over to my chair and kissed me passionately.
Then, she sat down at the other desk, and I handed her the box of pizza. We each ate greedily; I was starving too, and after we had each finished a couple of slices, it was already getting dark outside. Then, Jane surprised me by producing a pint flask from inside her jacket. “We make a good team,” she smiled, “You brought dinner, and I brought after-dinner drinks. I hope you like cognac, baby!”
“Cognac? Where did you get that?”
“I lifted it from my old man’s liquor cabinet. He’s into this shit! He had about four bottles, so I borrowed half of one. I’ve been saving it for the right occasion. Tonight’s the night!” She passed me the flask, and I sipped some of the aromatic liqueur. I had never drunk cognac before, though I had enjoyed brandy once. A warm, pleasant sensation rose like a mystic fog up from my stomach and through my entire body after the first drink. I handed the flask back to Jane.
Standing up, I grasped her hand encouragingly, and said, “Let’s get comfortable, baby!” and I led her to the beds in the middle of the room. We had turned the mattresses on the two beds sideways, so that the beds couldn’t slide apart. The mattresses were an inch too wide this way, but they pinched together nicely so the headboards and footboards of each of the beds held them tightly in place. Now we had plenty of room for lovemaking.
I lit the candles on the top shelves of each of the bookcases, and their flickering light threw a romantic glow about the room. Jane removed her leather jacket and lay down on the blanket, and I joined her.
I leaned over to kiss her, and I could smell her perfume mix with the sweet aroma from the cognac when our lips met. It was a heady scent. So as our tongues danced around inside each other’s mouths, I began to unbutton her silk blouse. Then, I slipped my hand inside and began caressing her breasts through her lacy bra. When I reached behind her to undo the clasps, she stopped me. It was too good to be true, I thought to myself.
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