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Eventually we came up for air to the sounds of our friends cheering and whooping. I immediately sat down on a nearby couch to hide my massive --for me anyway-- erection, which brought me to eye-level with Dave’s massive, engorged tool. He made no effort to hide it or cover it up. My head filled with images that I didn’t even want to admit to myself.Later at the party, we passed each other in the hall, and he pinned me to a wall and kissed me forcefully as he groped and fondled every inch of my torso, running his hands up under my shirt and caressing the bare skin of my back. I moaned as I submitted to him completely, and I whimpered and pouted when he broke the kiss and walked away.After that, we made out constantly. He would drive me crazy, kissing my neck, sucking on my earlobes, stroking my naked stomach under my shirt. I was in a more or less constant state of arousal, which made things really tough when told me I couldn’t masturbate anymore.He came back to the dorm to find me. Let me tell you about it.I stretched under the sheets of our king-sized bed and enjoyed the buzz of morning wood against soft sheets. The sound of my giggling gals and the smell of bacon compelled me to shower and join them in our kitchen. Karyl, my lover of ten years and forever-mate, is forty-two years old and looks the same as the day I met her ten years ago.Eyes can never decide where best to focus when they drink Karyl in. Her long black hair cascades off her shoulders and her midsized breasts ‘ski slope’ naturally and beg to be cupped and nibbled. Her long nipples are cone-shaped snacks, like bugles, and were heaven-made for any white shirt and no bra. Her hard tit-tips were impossible to ignore as she greeted me when I entered our big kitchen. The rest of her body is miraculous too.Both my lovers pranced braless that morning, with tight white t-shirts and snug-fitting pink short-shorts over black thong panties. As my lovers one and two kissed me, the flavor of bacon on Karyl’s.
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Coincidentally, there was a reunion being held, and I told my agent to clear my signing schedule so that I could drop in for the opening night mixer.The gym smelled as badly as it always had, a mix of old sweat, dirty sneakers, and something else that we always said was a body under the floorboards—some poor freshman who had never been able to climb the rope. I picked up a badge at the reception desk, and pasted on the obligatory 'Hello, My name is... ' sticker, then got a beer at the bar, and wandered around to see who else had decided to throw themselves to the mercies of those long ago 'freaks and geeks'. The crowd was somewhat sparse, but I did recognize a few of my old classmates, and shared a beer with them as we swapped lies and old war stories.Inevitably, the subject of old teachers came up, and of course that meant a discussion of Mrs. Ball's wondrous attributes. I grew a little quiet during this part of the discussion, trying to avoid drawing any untoward attention to.

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