Fisher wasn't the type of guy who fucked a girl just because she had a pussy and he had a cock. He was raised better than that. For that reason, and that reason alone, he had yet to have any of those college experiences that the lore speaks of.
That was, until he met Annabelle.
He'd always been a quiet, reserved kind of guy. He wasn't a virgin, but he had a lot less notches on his belt than other guys, so to speak.
Fisher had no idea how much his life, and sexual outlook would change when he enrolled for a summer semester course.
He made his way into the lecture hall, just as the other students were for history of western civilization. He took a seat in the center and off to the side.
Fisher was early. He was always early to everything, another trait his parents instilled in him.
One after another, students filed into the room, but his eyes were drawn to one.
He wasn't able to lock on one of her features. His eyes darted all over her as she bounced up the stairs at the side of the room. Her sandy blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail over one shoulder, the end of it stopped between her shoulders and chest. She wore jean shorts that weren't Daisy Duke's but they left plenty of her thick thighs for him to enjoy. Her generous cleavage jiggled happily beneath her tank top.
"Sit near me, please sit near me," his inner voice screamed, and then fought with itself. "No don't, please don't. I need to pay attention."
The young woman stopped on his row and he sank down in his seat.
"I'm a gentleman, gentlemen don't stare," he silently said while tapping his pen on his forehead.
She took a seat near him, leaving a desk between them. His heart sped up as he glanced over to see her pulling a spiral notebook out of her bag. From the corner of his eye, he saw her tits practically spilling out of the tiny top that she was wearing. He slumped further into his seat, anymore he would fall out of the chair.
She caught his eyes and smiled a bright smile. Love at first sight? Maybe. He never believed in it before, but if there was such a thing, the butterflies rapidly fluttering around in his gut and the tingles that ran throughout his being proved it.
Fisher took a quick moment to admire her luscious lips that framed her mouth. Her whole body glowed when she smiled.
The corner of his lips rose up in a lop sided smile. He tried for more, but couldn't seem to make his muscles work.
"God, I'm a dork," he thought as he turned his attention to the front of the room. "I can't even smile correctly at her."
The class went by typically.
Handouts were passed down the rows. His hand grazed hers for a spilt second. He swore that he felt sparks and by the pink on her makeup-less cheeks, he believed that she felt it too.
He struggled to pay attention to Professor Morgan for the first hour, while sneaking peeks at the pretty girl nearby. Each time he did, he mentally chided himself, and then chided himself for chiding.
When the students returned from their break, the professor told the class to get to know the people around them for study partners, for someone to call if they missed a class, and what not.
"Shit," he thought. "I have to talk to her now."
She immediately turned to the person behind her. He was thankful, for it would give him another minute or two to compose his thoughts.
He went through the motions of writing down names and phone numbers of various students around him. Then, she moved over to the empty desk that was between then.
He turned to see that same lovely smile greet him.
"Hey, I'm Annabelle," she stated, extending her hand towards him.
"I'm Fisher."
He took her hand in his and she immediately gripped his hand with a firm shake. He liked that. It showed confidence.
She withdrew her hand, and then twirled the end of her ponytail in her fingers. He got lost for a moment in a lovely set of green eyes that were set behind the purple frames of her glasses.
"Fisher?" She repeated his name with an adorable raise of a brow. Her voice was gentle. "That's an interesting name."
He shrugged it off, having heard that statement countless times in his life. "It's an old family name."
"Really?" Her expression lit up. "That's really cool. I wish I could say something interesting like that. Annabelle is just Annabelle." She waved her hand in front of her. "My parents liked it, that's all I got."
"Annabelle is a lovely name." He was nowhere near a master flirt, but he went for it anyway. "A lovely name for a lovely girl."
Her cheeks turned pinker and she giggled. He wished he knew what she was thinking. It would have either eased his nerves or set them bolting in a thousand different directions.
Annabelle was just so pretty. She wasn't the hottest girl on campus, but she could take a run at the most adorable. He was hooked, and he was sure that any man lucky enough to talk to her felt the same. She wasn't a tiny skinny model, she had meat on her bones, something to squeeze and hold onto. Another thing he liked.
Fisher must have gotten lost in his thoughts, because she poked him to get his attention.
"You're not going to ask me for my number?" she teased. "I thought that was what we were supposed to be doing here."
"Oh, um, yeah," he stuttered. His fingers fumbled with his pen. The writing utensil betrayed him by rolling off of his desk and falling to the floor.
Annabelle giggled again. It wasn't at him, he didn't think, but he was still embarrassed. She had a cute giggle. He wanted to hear it more often.
She reached down to pick it up for him. On the way, he watched her tits again. Another mental lash.
