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Freya Reynalda Idyl-Gliese was a survivor of several close calls. She was born in the United States, the daughter of two foreigners (to the US as well as each other’s home country). Her father was Scandinavian and her mother was a mix of mostly south and Central American tribes who were there millennia before Cortez and Columbus and a small percentage Hispanic. She survived a hurricane that hit the village her mother was born in as herself, her siblings and her parents were visiting. She survived encounters with bears and moose when she wondered off while visiting the village north of the Arctic circle that her father was born in. The most anxious brush with death wasn’t anything nature threw at her from outside her skin. It was summed up in two medical terms: “breast cancer”, and “total mastectomy, right”. The hurricane, wildlife encounters gone potentially deadly and the big C all happened before she turned 14.
Freya was now as fully developed as she’d ever be. She was 5′ 10″ with some padding just enough to give her a nice Shakira inspired ass and make her ribs imperceptible to the naked eye and a soft touch. She was debating law school or advertising and was a stellar student in all areas but math and the physical sciences. She had only one breast and that was a B cup. Everything dragging down her self-image was the negative aspects of surviving breast cancer at age 13 (the complete lack of dating experience, no right tit, etc.).
Freya wanted a lover, unfortunately she couldn’t get past how her reflection was ‘different’ and the closest thing to a lover was her initials (F.R.I.G.). She was pissed at the whole of her life’s events from birth to 18 years 7 months. She had met a computer geek named Joe. Freya was a fabulous student when it came to most subjects but Mathematics at the Trig and Algebra level and beyond became totally unintelligible. Joe was the top programmer in overall skills and coming up with sweet, slick solutions to nerdy dilemmas (and he did even better in Math than he was in computer classes).
Joe was the one who encouraged and tutored her over her first semester. Joe wasn’t a total virgin, but he had just two sex sessions. Joe asked her out more than once, but never forced her to expand their relationship.
Shortly after her second semester and his fifth semester began, Joe handed her an invitation to his 18th birthday party. She was a bit confused, but she thought he had looked younger than 18 the whole time she knew him and she figured he was nerdy enough and overzealous to leave high school ASA Fucking P, so skipping a grade or two wasn’t too strange. She attended the party: it was a who’s who of the computer science and mathematics department (even every math and computer professor he ever had a class with were present). She was one of four women present and she was a bit disheartened that she wasn’t hit on by anyone except a curvaceous Indian chick with a Mumbai accent (Krishna Neyru) and a left hand that kept finding her ass as she spoke the ludest comments about what she wanted her lips to do to Freya and vice versa. After that started, Freya tended to not exactly cling, but stay near Joe no matter what. After the party she told Joe about the “Bali-wood starlet look-alike” who tried to get her to switch to the all girl’s team.
Joe then said something that Freya thought was odd, “You are not a lesbian?”
“What gave you the perception I was a carpet munching dyke?” Freya wasn’t too careful about her volume, and this was the moment Krishna walked in to get her scarf. Freya noticed this and spoke to her directly, “Look, I don’t have a kill-them-all attitude about homosexuals, but that said, hearing intimate details about lesbian sex is more that a little unsettling. I would have told you then, but it was all I could do to not say, ‘hands off dyke’ in a loud voice.”
Krishna slinked out, not having any idea how to respond.
Joe sighed, “To answer your questions, there were two or three things I noticed: first one I noticed was you turned me down every time I tried to ask you out; two you turned down every guy that I’ve noticed hit on you. Third you had no shyness hugging or kissing on the cheeks several women:” Joe rattled off the names of the ten women on campus. He knew the names but she knew each of those women well enough to recite their family trees back one or two generations (having met 40% of those relatives) plus she knew why each of them broke up with every boyfriend they had since she met each.
“I am heterosexual in a way… frustrated, a virgin, but at the core a heterosexual who’s never had sex with anyone of any gender.”
“My sympathies.” Joe hugged her. “By your choice of words, you’d like to not be a virgin.”
“Yes.” She knew it was a statement, but treated it like a question anyway.
“You’ve got so much to offer, you’re witty, you’ve well read, you’re savvy in almost every subject that doesn’t involve multivariable calculus, Boyle’s gas laws, integrated circuits or Einstein’s theory of relativity… and of course, you’ve got one fucking hot body.” Joe said still holding her.
“Look at my chest, does it poker oyna really look hot?”
“Yes. Over the last 4 school-months, I’ve noticed that you have padding in your right bra cup, and hugging you just now I’ve noticed what seems ever more padding… given you’re a Best-sized cup, that means you likely had something happen to you and you think you’ll never be seen as beautiful.”
“The cancer you survived…” Joe then used medical terms Freya had never heard before and ended the sentence with question inflection.
“No, the type I had was…” and spoke 3 to 8 words medicalese to describe the particular form breast cancer she had.
“You know when I suspected the padding in just one cup of your bra was related to a lumpectomy or mastectomy I looked up all the things that could cause a doctor to recommend that. After applying Occam’s razor to the possibilities, I read about 200 pages worth of data on breast cancer. And that did include post op images, two situations where the butchery of the surgery resulted in malpractice suits and one surgeon’s license cut up as well as–“
“Shut up!” Freya growled sharply, but didn’t yell. “I didn’t mean to be that mean. Different subject… I’d love to hear about a different subject.”
“Mardi Gras is next month… the 8th. Would you like to go with me?”
“I’ve reserved a room with two double beds. I had planned to share expenses with a friend, but no one’s willing. I have already paid for the room last father’s day actually. The travel website I used was great about giving this deep discount for 6+ months ahead of time.”
“And how were you planning to get there?”
“My car… it’s a 2003 Prius… yea, it’s more of a nerd magnet than a chick magnet and it’ll be in my possession of 2 years this ides of March but it’ll take all of 3 gallons of unleaded to get there, almost certainly less.”
“What were you planning to do?… assuming we go.”
“See some parades, try some of the local drinks, you know touristy shit.”
Freya gave him a look that he and his conscience recognized as ‘you haven’t fully answered the question, yet’
Joe continued, “And no, I don’t expect you to put out. Look, I find you very attractive both mentally and physically. We’ve been friends since you first came on campus practically. If you want me as a friend and friend alone, I only ask that you set me up with an intelligent friend of yours who doesn’t deserve to be hurt again, who’s both intelligent and who doesn’t mind showing it to people her intelligence doesn’t threaten.”
“It’s almost midnight… we won’t have much time either of our dorm rooms.”
“Yea… we could always drive along the highway… one that passes on the edge of campus… just between here and the where the highway intersect with the interstate, there’s about 15 hotels… there’s got to be a few that cost less than 80 a night.”
“We have school tomorrow.”
“What’s your early class?”
“History… 9:30 a.m.”
“Mine’s physics with calculus II, lecture at 11 a.m… The lab’s Tuesdays at 8 a.m. and tonight is wednesday 13 January.”
She thought about postponing until Friday night, but she didn’t want to be a virgin and didn’t want to give either of him or more to the point herself a chance to chicken out (or in her case chicken out again). “Let do each other.” She grabbed his ass and French kissed him. He accepted her advance. Neither had ever French kissed before and both had a significant lick tide on their cheeks.
Professor Nick Sabin walked in because he noticed the light on. Prof. Sabin said 3 words to them, “Get a room.” Prof. Sabin constantly got teased because his name sounded like the coach at LSU that jumped ship for Miami, and this is also the genesis of his nickname.
“We’re planning to do that, presently, Coach.” Joe spoke playfully.
“You kids run along… be teenagers. Brenda and I will clean this place off.”
“Before or after…” Joe stopped in mid sentence because he heard boots that sounded something like a size 9 men’s boot with a mid-100’s pound person in them. Professor Brenda Jackson was not a small woman, but a phenom of mathematician in a full figured soul sista’s body (not BBW by any stretch of the imagination but as Sir Mix-a-lot rapped, “red beans and rice didn’t miss her.”).
Joe smiled at his multivariable calculus prof (all 161 pounds of her wearing her favorite shoes with ankle support): a brand of urban hiking boots, she was technically a women’s size 11 but with boots, especially, men’s size 9W fit her better. Joe said, “Good evening, Professora… till 8 a.m. Friday.”
“Anyone else in the building?”
“Correct, Nick and us that’s it. have a nice night.”
“I should. You too.”
Joe and Freya walked out hand in hand. As they turned to face the elevator doors, both noticed Prof. Jackson was holding her shirt over her should by it’s collar with just one finger, both got a profile glimpse of her naked single-D right tit. After the doors close, Joe said, “It’s an open secret that the pair of them have canlı poker oyna sex; Coach and Professora Jackson.”
“Why call her Professora Jackson?”
“There’s 8 men who either tenure or seeking tenure on this campus with a last name that is pronounced Jackson. Except for the paraplegic in the history department Dr. Xavier Jaxon, J-A-X-O-N, all eight of the others: the seven men and Professora Jackson all spell their last name J-A-C-K-S-O-N. Prof. ‘Spook’ Jackson the physics teacher is lighter-skinned than most Scandinavians. But all 9 professors Jackson have some distinguishing nicknames or title variants. I’ve only met 4 of them. Professora’s twin bother, the geology prof, I’ve met socially is nicknamed ‘Mr. 24’. Mr. 24 Jackson would tell you because his middle name is a Swahili word that’s a homophone for the swahili words meaning dozen and 2 (2 times a dozen is 24), but his ex-wife who had made a cottage industry spinning everything in the nastiest, meanest way possible for her ex, conceded that her ex was quote just short of 10 inches when hard and horny unquote… 25.4 centimeters is 10 inches on the dot, 24 centimeters would be a little shorter than 10 inches. Now, Dr. Xavier… That’s professor Xavier Jaxon… he’s bald and paraplegic but his skin tone’s much closer to George Forman or La Var Burton than Patrick Stuart, but we still call him Dr. X or Dr. Xavier.”
“You’re hit the head on the nail.” Joe deliberately swapped nail and head, just to hear her laugh.
She laughed, “Want me to drive?”
“If you’d like. My car or yours?”
“Yours…. I’ll likely need to pack more, besides I still need to get a new alternator.”
“Why not get it checked out.”
“Well I had pulled it do just that. Sara was going to drive. We put it on the pic nic table as we closed and/or locked everything we needed to it rained, like it had been threatening to do for hours… between the time I set the alternator down and locked the car, lightening struck.”
“You look well–“
He chuckled, I don’t have the coin for a new alternator.”
“I got Daddy’s credit card, his visited Sunday and I shown.”
“She’s more the mechanically reclined than the mechanically inclined.”
“That’s why I said I pulled the alternator.”
“Well, you’ve always been better at nuts and bolts of the physical sciences.”
“Come on that’s simpler than most of the shit I did in auto shop. I guess that where the misperception of me as dyke.”
“Pick you up, soonest?”
“I’ll need 15 minutes to walk to my room, pack up, walk to my car and drive to the front of your dorm.”
“Sounds good, I may be 20.”
“See you soon.” The parted company, heading to their respective dorms. Hers was 55 paces in one direction and his was over 6 times that distance in a completely different direction.
Joe was only 1:05 off his estimate, but rang her 15 minutes after the parted company. “I’m a minute away.”
“I’ll need a minute after I hang up… meet you in the lobby.”
He turned the engine off, in front of her dorm’s front door with the hazard’s on. It was 2 minutes past midnight and men were leaving the women’s dorm. He’d be asked to leave as soon has someone noticed he wasn’t streaming out with the rest of the men.
She exited the front door 5 minutes after she said 1 minute. “We need to make one stop before we crawl into bed.”
“What’s so urgent?”
“Condoms, I’m not knocking you up.”
“Alright, but let’s buy them together.”
They headed over to the drug store kitty corner from the Southeast corner of campus. After buying three different 2-packs (one “extra large”, and two ‘normal’ sized “polyurethane” and “latex”), they got a hotel room. The hotelier made them both show IDs, then took the attitude: I don’t allow underage sex in my hotel, but I’ll rent to 18 year olds. He said, “happy birthday, sir.” as they walked to their room.
Once in the room, a nervous quiet fell over them. Finally Joe pulled of his glasses and gently placed them on the night table between the two double beds, pulled off his shirt and said, “If you’re going to be quiet, at least be kissing me.” and grabbed her cheeks and kissed her.
“I’ve gotta pee, be right back.”
She dropped her panties and walked out them, then removed her skirt all while heading to the bathroom. Her skirt she waited to remove until she was at the door. She pissed for over a minute. Joe wasn’t timing, but did see the clock change from 12:15 to 12:16 seconds after she started pissing and it turned to 12:17 before the ‘rainstorm’ let up. They had one bed with all their stuff they placed on it (except for his pillow), but as she pissed he got completely naked and into bed.
She exited the bathroom and washed with some hand sanitizing liquid she pulled out of her skirt pocket. Freya held her arms high displayed her hairy bush for his inspection. Joe gave a wolf-whistle and licked his lips. She giggled like a schoolgirl, and climbed into bed wearing internet casino only a shirt and bra. Joe asked eagerly, “May I undress you?”
“Just my shirt, leave my bra on… the reason should be obvious.”
Freya’s legs trembled as Joe pulled off the covers and began gently stroking her legs and kissing her pubic mons and the areas near her bellybutton. Joe spent more than 6 minutes just teasing her like this. He then went down on her (a few shy licks at first — he’d never given a muff dive before.
Freya moaned quietly as she had her ass dragged to the edge of the bed so her pussy was over the edge and he knelt on two pillows from the other bed with one of her legs on each of his shoulders. Freya forced herself not to crush his head between her thighs. She couldn’t resist running her fingers through the curly hairs coming out of Joe’s scalp and occasionally pulling on the back of his head. Joe couldn’t breath through his nose — it was being pressed near, but not directly on, her clitoris, but he didn’t know where precisely his nose was being pressed against. Joe panted though his mouth — the hot breath got Freya even randier. Joe pried himself free and panted… Freya was just moments away from orgasm and so desperate to get off by something other than masturbation.
“What!” Freya used a sharp shrill voice.
Joe was catching his breath and didn’t speak.
“I’ll do anything… well anything sexual that doesn’t involve multiple lovers or an audience.”
Joe didn’t try to think of something, he was too focused on just one thing, “No bra.”
“You want me to finish what I started, then no bra.”
She was too horny to be bashful, so she pulled off her titsling and he saw her one tit and the lack of breast, the lack of break or scar in the skin itself all but belied the ‘unnaturalness’ of the amputation. Joe had come across 16 pics of post op pictures when reading up on breast cancer, “The best I’ve seen so far.”
“Shut up and finish…” she said in a sultry voice.
Joe obeyed and started licking her public mons with slow strokes. He slipped his left finger (the one he gave the finger with) and gently hunted for her g-spot. Freya screamed in pleasure and barely got a pillow over her mouth in time to muffle the screams. Her upper body bounced up and down almost like a seizure when the pleasure hit her. Joe put his torso against her crotch to prevent her sliding off the bed. They worked together to reorient her body back to about the direction most people normally stretched out to sleep in. He went around the foot of the bed and crawled in next to her. She laid on her side and he did a reach around to cop his first feel on her naked tit, “Did I do good?”
“Fuck yes!” she spun around to face him, “I suppose you want me to go down immediately.”
“No, I want to let you enjoy the buzz of the orgasm for a while.”
“I gave you multiple?”
“Not exactly multiple, you gave me several small orgasms, then the huge one at the end… why’d you eat me through the orgasms?”
“I talked to several people on chat sites for sex advise, to a woman they advised me to not stop eating until after you stop moving… uh… I forgot what they used, but suffusive to say, they advised me to wait until you go still to stop eating.”
“Really? Who in your family had breast cancer?”
“Why read hundreds of pages on the subject?”
“I wanted to help you.”
“Do you love me?”
“Yes, but in what way I don’t know. How real the emotion? I lack the experience needed to make such an assessment.”
“You know I still feel humiliated being topless. I could walk with just a bra and nothing else and not feet overly exposed, but exposing even just the void where my right tit was… I feel so humiliated.”
“I’m sorry, I was…. nevermind, I’ve hurt you.” He pulled the sheets up to cover both of them, her to the neck, him to the armpit. Then he slipped his arm under the covers. “What do you feel for me?” He kissed her gently on the forehead. “Forget the socially correct thing to say, the truth would be better here.”
“I don’t know what I feel for you… beyond gratitude for getting me through Math 99 and Math 100. I wouldn’t have passed them without your patience. Also, I’m extremely gratitude about… you going down on me, I want to return the favor and I’ll try tonight, but I’m scared I might not finish what I start.” She didn’t realize her grammatical errors.
“I’m not going to be mad if you can’t… disappointed definitely, but not mad. Let’s cuddle and when get the nerve to start, just slip under the covers and start sucking.”
“We’re both sweaty.”
“We could shower.”
“You could wear my t-shirt.”
“In the shower? Why?”
“I’d like to shower with you.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Then I’ll go naked, get out and get the water started before I change my mind.” He got out and got the shower started and put all the ‘supplies’ (washcloths, towels, etc.) within easy reach. All she did was put on a shower cap, using the mirror to check herself and see if she had any stray hairs. She caught a sight of herself naked and questioned whether he was just horny, loved her for her mind or he really could love that (referring to her reflection).
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