I Sent Me Under the Covers

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High school was finally over! I couldn’t have been happier. For the first time I was looking toward the future with the plans I had made. I had to decide between going with the arts and dance or into the math and science. Luckily I had a head on my shoulders and realized that dancing is a young girls game so I went for math. I was enrolled in the undergrad program where I would work toward getting into physics or astronomy I hadn’t decided yet but then again I had lots of time to decide. The best part, and at the same time the scariest was that I was going to go away for university. This sounded like the best of all worlds until their car pulled away.

The move in day was a scene of hectic confusion. There were older students trying to help and tell you were to go, they were noticeable by their orange shirts. Some really wanted to help and others seemed like they were just trying to make new friends. All the parents were still there either exchanging pleasantries with each other or doing heavy lifting. Then came the moment when they said good bye, it didn’t feel right but it was still exciting all at the same time. They were really going to leave me here…….on my own.

I come from a big city in Ontario, that’s Canada for anyone who doesn’t know. When I was in high school we had something called OCA or as some people called it grade 13. By the time some of us graduated we were already 19, my B-day is in March so I was one of these people. The reason that I mention this, the reason 19 is the magic number, is because 19 happens to be the age that a person can legally consume alcohol in Canada. Consuming alcohol seemed like a sport for some in my dorm, there was always something going down. It was everywhere and even though I wasn’t a hard drinker by any means I did drink enough to lose my sense of direction some nights. I even ended up with my panties down on a guy’s bed a few times.

That was the other thing that nobody bothered to tell me: all the things that made me a nerd in high school were actually valued here. Guys found me hot and they weren’t afraid to say it. I had developed over the last few years too, I wasn’t a stick anymore. I still had my long brown hair that sort of curled at the bottom and my big brown eyes. Now my boobs were as big as they were going to get, that being a b cup, but I was finally comfortable with that. My hips widened nicely giving my more feminine curves then I had ever been use to. As a result I started to get a trill from showing them off; I was wearing short skirts for the first time in my life outside of being on stage. I would wear tight fitting shirts, some of them with no backs. I also started to wear my contacts more as I felt like guys were looking at me.

This doesn’t mean I became the dorm mattress, mostly I would just flirt. It gave me a sense of being a woman and honestly I liked the attention. Like I said before there were some nights that I ended up in a compromising position or two but I had enjoyed each time it happened and didn’t have regrets. In any event my studies were my main priority and often I would resist the drink binges that some of my new friends would go on in order to stay in and study.

This all added up to having the time of my life. I met great friends, was treated more like an adult than ever before, felt like I had responsibility (even if I was still protected) and most of all I felt like I had freedom. All this and I wasn’t even thinking about having a boyfriend anymore, that seemed like all I ever thought about in high school but that seemed so long ago like a distant memory. It was around that time when of course it happened; I scored my first actual boyfriend!

We met in a University ballet club and hit it off pretty much right away. He was studying Kinesiology and was in his 3rd year. I’d like to say that this was a meeting of the minds, a match made in the stars……………but really it was just a lot of fucking. We fucked before class, we fucked after class, we fucked between classes, we fucked where ever we could and everywhere we could. This probably wasn’t the recipe for marriage but I wasn’t looking to get married and this was what I wanted to do. No matter how we did it he was respectful of me and never put me down.

Being around him was great and I enjoyed all of it, he took me out to different places and introduced me to new people. However, in the end I wasn’t looking for a commitment at that time so when school was ending I broke it off. I had no idea just how hard that was to do, I had heard about it many times, seen it in movies but until you actually do it you don’t know anything about it. He had taught me a lot, especially about how men and women interact and I have never forgotten him.

It also hit me that school was in fact ending. I had to go back home, I mean I was just staying at the university I hadn’t really moved out. I was so sad to leave; some tears were shed as some of the girls knew that they weren’t getting back in next year. I sex izle knew that I was coming back but I knew it would be different, in the second year you live off campus so dorm life was in fact over. The notion was bittersweet as I knew that I had enjoyed it and I knew that I would be moving in with four of the best girlfriends that I had ever made the next year. The problem was that that was four months away!

In the meantime I was going home. I still had Angie and Sarah, my friends from high school, at home and I missed them a lot so it wasn’t all bad. The three of us would talk on the phone almost every weekend so we were still very much up to date with each other. I was excited to see them. I wasn’t so excited to be going home though. I loved my parents and everything that they did for me but going back to our house was a little hard.

What hit me the worst was when I put my bag down in my old room for the first time and nothing had changed. It felt like it was the room of a different girl, someone who I had known but wasn’t me. All my dance medals and trophies were still proudly displayed, my purple curtains looked as girly as ever, the flowers that my dad had painted on the walls still peeked out from behind them and the paper butterflies still hung in the same place that I had left them. Other than the obvious weekly dusting everything was the same. Yep, my bedroom was one of a little girl.

As I was lost in reflective thought I was ever so rudely interrupted by my mother. Of course she wanted me to go help with the junk that we loaded into the cube van that it took to move me back. We got all the boxes up and started to unpack, this was a cathartic moment sort of speak where the new me started to invade the old. As miniskirts started to go where baggy jeans had once been and tank tops replaced my loose fitting sweaters I started to feel like the new me again. Pictures of druken girls engaged in ritual dances went over the flowers on the walls. There certainly were a lot of changes in me and there really wasn’t any turning back.

From my parents point of view all this happened in a vacuum and I’m not so sure they were ready to see it all at once; especially not my dad. When I left I was still very much daddy’s little angel who could do no wrong. I was the unassuming girl that smiled at everyone and wore stars and flowers on her loose fitting shirts. The first day home I was wearing my cut off shorts that were cut off at my butt and left little to the imagination. To me I was just expressing myself; to him I was going to get changed and leave the house when I was ready to look respectable.

This was the first of more than a couple fights we had that summer about what I was going to wear. I’m not really sure why I did it but to me it was of the upmost importance that I at least tried to show off my legs. Each argument usually ended with me changing as it still was “his house, his rules”, but no matter how I was defeated I would take up the fight again in the not so distant future.

That wasn’t all I did that summer as I was not lounging around and visiting my friends all the time. I had a good job, I had gotten an intern position at a weather office and that was my first taste of real work. I even got to wear a lab coat and everything! I felt sexy in this white lab coat and I would wear my glasses to complete the look, I could feel eyes on me in the hallways. Yes indeed, high school was over!

All in all I was having a good summer; after all I was an adult, right?

It was around this time of everything going right that my father’s annual staff pool party took place. This was basically where the teachers on his staff (he was a high school principal) would come over, use the pool and get completely drunk. If anyone has ever had the opportunity to see educators away from the schools they educate in it is an orgy of alcohol. In years past I would always hang out during the party and talk to some of his friends. They all liked me and always seemed happy to see me. This year was no exception as I was again not only invited but expected to be there. The thing was that the idea of a party had sort of changed to me and this was no exception.

I was 20 years old now and I wasn’t going to be afraid to have a beer or two. I also went out and bought a bathing suit just for this occasion and I do use that term loosely. What I bought was more like a couple of red strings that went over my vagina and nipples. I don’t think I had ever done something so obnoxious in my life; I was really looking for a fight.

The party was getting ready to begin. The backyard was set up, the cooler was full of beer, my mom was putting the finishing touches to the scene as only she could and even my brother Greg had brought his girlfriend over to make their presence known. It was at that time I was sitting on my purple sheets in my underwear getting ready to put my tini tiny red bikini on to make my presence known. So on it went, I made the sexmex porno adjustments to make sure nothing so popping out of it and headed for the first flight of stairs.

I had almost made it down the back split when I heard a voice bellow in a thunderous panic, “MICHELLE OLIVIA (last name) GET YOUSELF UPSTAIRS!”

Every syllable of all three of my names was stressed so there could be no confusion as to what the problem was, to which I responded, “What’s the problem?”

“The problem is that you’ve been raised better than that and I won’t have it in my house” my father said restraining as to not break a blood vessel in his forehead.

This time I was going to dig my heels in. I decided that at my dad’s party, in my parents house and just minutes before the guests arrived that I was an adult and I was going to wear whatever I liked. How adult of me huh? I mean this was my plan from the moment I bought the bikini, my dad didn’t even like miniskirts what did I expect him to say to my bare ass on display to all his friends. Did I expect him to say, “oh you look lovely honey”? Of course I didn’t, I expected a fight and a fight I got.

He grabbed me by the wrist and started leading me up the stairs. I could tell that he didn’t want to make eye contact with my practically naked body. Even if he wasn’t looking at me he was yelling at me. Now I sort of knew how my brother felt I had never been yelled at like this before. My mom was probably sensing an epic struggle and came to try to make peace. In the end the three of us came to a compromise, that I would wear a pair of shorts and a t-shirt over my bikini and I could only take them off if I was in the pool when I got out I had to put my shorts and shirt right back on. There was to be no walking around in the bikini.

I wasn’t happy, in fact I was being a little bitch, but really I had gotten my way this time: the bikini stayed on. Sure I had to put some low cut shorts over them but really if I started at the shorts I would have had to take them off; make no mistake this was a victory for me.

My parents had just barely left my room when the first of the guests started to arrive. The party was going off like it had in other years, lot’s drinking, there was card playing and my brother’s obnoxious attempts to be the life of it. I spent most of the afternoon talking to familiar faces and giving them updates about my adventures in university, well at least the updates I felt comfortable with giving. I talked about my dancing too and whatever else they knew about me. It’s funny how up to a certain age conversations with older people tend to revolve around yourself.

It was almost 5 o’clock before I decided to use the central piece of a pool party: the pool. The pool was empty as it is at most pool parties. It more serves as a piece of the scenery and every now and then someone jumps in and gets out. I wanted to swim but I also wanted to show off my bikini. A lot of the teachers there had known me for years and this wasn’t want they expected of me. Still most of it was in my head as I was not the star and this was not my stage, all eyes didn’t focus on me as I flopped around in the pool.

I bobbed and floated in the pool and our neighbor began to talk to me. I swam along the edges of the pool and he walked on the outside. I don’t want to use his real name as I had known him since we moved in roughly 14 years earlier so I will call him Mr. Sandor. I didn’t know him well but he was always nice to me when I was a kid, in that I wasn’t scared to go into his yard my ball or frisbee went there. He was Hungarian and olive in complexion, he was in his early or mid 40’s but he looked good. He was in shape and had a casual dressing style that somehow still looked formal. He spoke with a bit of an accent but it suited him and his look very well.

I didn’t know that much about him but he had been the subject of whispers and gossip that even my parents engaged in. From what I could gather his wife picked up and left him one day without even notice. This was years ago and I really didn’t understand all that was said but what the truth was or wasn’t I had no idea. One time I would hear that she took the kids and returned to their country other times I had heard that she took off with some guy to the States. One thing for sure is that I never heard him talk about it so who knows what really happened. I did feel sort of sorry for him as he seemed like he would be lonely living in that big house all by himself.

Mr, Sandor was the only one who didn’t talk to be about my year at school. Instead we talked about him which was a bit of a welcome change for me as the other conversations were getting monotonous. He was telling me about his trip to Mexico that he returned from recently. How he went scuba diving off this little Island called Cozumel in the Caribbean Sea. It sounded like quite the adventure and it was enough to hold my interest as I rested my arms against the side of the pool sikiş izle and listened intently.

He offered to get me a drink and I accepted, he handed me the can and kept talking to me looking down from the outside of the pool. I didn’t really like the taste of beer that much and I voiced my opinion as I choked it back as I had done many nights before. Mr, Sandor told me that he got some premium Tequila while he was in Mexico, stuff that would go for $300 a bottle in Canada and told me that I could try some. I don’t know why but when I said ok I sort of expected him to bring it to me. Instead I had just agreed to go over to his house it just occurred to me.

I was a big girl I thought to myself, if I want to have a drink of Tequila at a man’s house what is the harm in that? I got out of the pool and found my shorts and shirt and put them on as I had agreed to do and quietly left the party.

We went into his house through the sliding back door where it opened into what looked almost like a bar. I had never been to Mr. Sandors house before, he seemed to have expensive taste. In a room where we had a TV and sofa he had various expensive looking decorations and a table you would stand around like at a bar. The table was circular and had three high chairs that went around it. Everything was very stylish in a European way. There was a white sofa off to the side across the room and a mini bar on the other side. There was no TV the entertainment seemed to be the different conversation pieces from different parts of the world. I was impressed.

I waited at the small table and he went to get the Tequila. He put the Tequila on the table and then went up to the kitchen when he returned he had a lemon and some salt. He told me that if I found the taste too strong that I could try the lemon and salt but that it was better to drink it without. He poured two shots we touched glasses and down it went. It didn’t burn like a lot of hard alcohol that I had tried in the past it was smooth. I had even tried Tequila before but it always tasted harsher than this.

Before I could think shot two was ready and down it went. I was feeling good now, I was really handling my booze! There was no break until after shot three was down the hatch. I didn’t want to admit it but my knees were feeling like they were going to give out; I was getting drunk.

We talked more about Mexico and other exotic beaches that Mr. Sandor had visited. His accent was sounding nicer with each shot. In a suggestive way he told me that, “Michelle my dear, you would be one of the most beautiful women on the beach in a place like Rio.”

I’m sure it was a line but I wasn’t about to disagree with the compliment. He told me, “One thing that troubles me is that the girls on the beaches wouldn’t be wearing shorts to cover their lovely bodies.”

“My dad is making me wear them when I’m not in the pool.” I defended myself

Pouring another shot and looking around she said, “I don’t see your father anywhere miss”

With that I stepped out of my shorts and took of my shirt, I was standing in my complete bikini glory drinking Tequila with a man more than double my age. I was feeling pretty good too and being a bit of a flirt. I’m not sure when it happened but there didn’t seem to be that much distance between us now. When we started drinking he was across the small table from me and now he was standing on the same side as me.

“There’s something else the girls do at the beaches around the world” he said looking at me with eyes that could devour.

I didn’t respond, I sort of looked at the floor and he hooked his thumb under my bikini bottom and started talking them off. I wasn’t standing that straight but I tried to help him get me out of them. I knew by that time that he was trying to fuck me and I was going to let him. Soon the bottoms were on the floor and he was working his tongue in and out of my mouth.

He was a really good kisser. He knew how to kiss in just the right way to make you anticipate the next kiss and tease you when it didn’t come. His hands were soft but firm as his hands explored my body. He explored, but not the places the boys my age usually went for. He would more feel all the different parts of my body and stroke behind my ears all while kissing me from my lips down to my neck. I was soon completely exposed to him but he hadn’t tried to finger me yet, he was taking his time and kissing me everywhere. Like he knew what he had me and he was going to enjoy it.

Soon the kissing and caressing was coming to a stop and he started to remove his pants. His dick stood up straight on 115 degree angle as it became clear that it was my turn to give him pleasure. I got down on my knees in front of him and took the head into my mouth. I wanted to try to show off any skill that I might have learned over the past year but honestly I felt like a lightweight. I bobbed my head up and down on his dick and he groaned and grunted in approval. He had a nice sized cock, it wasn’t too long but it was big around. I would guess that it was around six maybe six and a half inches long but very thick and full. His balls were neatly shaven and huge, they hung like big smooth pockets of skin. He told me to lick them and I did.

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