were only so many ways that a team could practice. I thought, remembering
the article I had turned in and the stakes of the last game, that running plays
and staying in fighting shape were more important than ever for the team. As
long as they managed to win the next big game, our team would go on to national
championships—a major bowl game that could bring fame to our school. If Zack
were the man in charge of the team when that happened, he’d have a permanent
reputation at the college for years to come.
In a flash, I remembered Zack’s hands on me, the
image of him in my mind firmly replacing the thoughts of him virtuously at
practice, focused on running plays. My cheeks burned with a deep blush as I
played through the way Zack buried his face between my legs, my mind sending
ghostlike jolts of remembered sensation through my body as I tried not to squirm
in my seat, heat rushing through my body from head to toe. When we had dated in
high school, Zack had been okay with his hands—I could easily remember him
getting me off with his fingers—but he’d never been too interested in going
down on me. I shivered in the memory of how enthusiastic he had become.
I took notes mindlessly, hearing and not hearing the
lecture going on in the front of the classroom, thinking about the strange set
of events that had led to having Zack in my bed. I smiled to myself, remembering
the sight of him stretching; the thick, dark patch of hair tangled around the
base of his cock, the ripple of his abdominal muscles, the deep cut of his hip
bones. I felt giddy and satisfied, worried and contented all at once, and I
knew—in a sudden flash—that I was every bit as infatuated with Zack as I had
been in high school, that it would be incredibly easy to fall head over heels
in love with him just the way I had before. The thought of that gave me a
moment’s pause. I had fallen completely and totally in love with Zack when we’d
dated in high school, and he had ended up breaking up with me—he had left. We
were in the same position in college as we’d been when we’d first started
dating; even if we lasted the semester, and then Spring ,
what would happen when it came time for Zack to graduate?
But it was too soon to be worrying about what would
happen years in the future. For the moment, I could let myself think of Zack
without too much danger. He was undoubtedly every bit as hot as he’d been when
we’d dated before, but he’d changed too. He was better in bed by far than he
had ever been when we were both in high school. The subject of Zack apparently
going to the library every day tugged at my mind; was he really studying? If he
was, then he had definitely changed. If he was goofing off, then it was a
little strange that he would pick that location. I felt a flush of heat rush
through my body as I remembered the time we had sex, on the couch of his frat
house; I thought about how he had seduced me so easily, kissing me until I was
so turned on I couldn’t have formed the word no if I had wanted to—and I
certainly didn’t want to. I shivered as I remembered how eagerly he had buried
his face against my pussy, sucking and licking until he brought me to an intense
orgasm.
I went from one class to another and still couldn’t
shake the thought of Zack; I relived the acute embarrassment of his impulsive
decision to apparently announce his love of me to as much of the campus at one
time as he could. I saw him in my mind’s eye climbing up onto the table and
getting every last person’s attention, looking at the girls and the guys at his
table before telling everyone, “I want
everyone to know that I am stupidly, head-over-heels, hung up on Evelyn
Jackson. She’s the only girl for me. No one else could ever compare with her.” I couldn’t quite make myself believe that he was actually in love with me, per
se; but when I thought about the way he’d done something so rash and stupid to
shut up the girls making fun of me, I had
the article I had turned in and the stakes of the last game, that running plays
and staying in fighting shape were more important than ever for the team. As
long as they managed to win the next big game, our team would go on to national
championships—a major bowl game that could bring fame to our school. If Zack
were the man in charge of the team when that happened, he’d have a permanent
reputation at the college for years to come.
In a flash, I remembered Zack’s hands on me, the
image of him in my mind firmly replacing the thoughts of him virtuously at
practice, focused on running plays. My cheeks burned with a deep blush as I
played through the way Zack buried his face between my legs, my mind sending
ghostlike jolts of remembered sensation through my body as I tried not to squirm
in my seat, heat rushing through my body from head to toe. When we had dated in
high school, Zack had been okay with his hands—I could easily remember him
getting me off with his fingers—but he’d never been too interested in going
down on me. I shivered in the memory of how enthusiastic he had become.
I took notes mindlessly, hearing and not hearing the
lecture going on in the front of the classroom, thinking about the strange set
of events that had led to having Zack in my bed. I smiled to myself, remembering
the sight of him stretching; the thick, dark patch of hair tangled around the
base of his cock, the ripple of his abdominal muscles, the deep cut of his hip
bones. I felt giddy and satisfied, worried and contented all at once, and I
knew—in a sudden flash—that I was every bit as infatuated with Zack as I had
been in high school, that it would be incredibly easy to fall head over heels
in love with him just the way I had before. The thought of that gave me a
moment’s pause. I had fallen completely and totally in love with Zack when we’d
dated in high school, and he had ended up breaking up with me—he had left. We
were in the same position in college as we’d been when we’d first started
dating; even if we lasted the semester, and then Spring ,
what would happen when it came time for Zack to graduate?
But it was too soon to be worrying about what would
happen years in the future. For the moment, I could let myself think of Zack
without too much danger. He was undoubtedly every bit as hot as he’d been when
we’d dated before, but he’d changed too. He was better in bed by far than he
had ever been when we were both in high school. The subject of Zack apparently
going to the library every day tugged at my mind; was he really studying? If he
was, then he had definitely changed. If he was goofing off, then it was a
little strange that he would pick that location. I felt a flush of heat rush
through my body as I remembered the time we had sex, on the couch of his frat
house; I thought about how he had seduced me so easily, kissing me until I was
so turned on I couldn’t have formed the word no if I had wanted to—and I
certainly didn’t want to. I shivered as I remembered how eagerly he had buried
his face against my pussy, sucking and licking until he brought me to an intense
orgasm.
I went from one class to another and still couldn’t
shake the thought of Zack; I relived the acute embarrassment of his impulsive
decision to apparently announce his love of me to as much of the campus at one
time as he could. I saw him in my mind’s eye climbing up onto the table and
getting every last person’s attention, looking at the girls and the guys at his
table before telling everyone, “I want
everyone to know that I am stupidly, head-over-heels, hung up on Evelyn
Jackson. She’s the only girl for me. No one else could ever compare with her.” I couldn’t quite make myself believe that he was actually in love with me, per
se; but when I thought about the way he’d done something so rash and stupid to
shut up the girls making fun of me, I had
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