I was a dork during high school. Not in looks, or in personality really, but I studied a lot. That was my parents' expectation. So I got good grades. I didn't party. I had a few friends, and they studied a lot and got good grades as well. We were all going to be successful. Of course, I was a little pent-up, so the summer after graduation I had a beer, tried marijuana, and kissed a boy.
All of that made me feel like I had "caught-up" to my peers by the time I got to college in the Fall. But I hadn't. And it was evident a month or so into the semester. I hadn't been to a party. I hadn't really made any friends, and I spent a lot of time in the library. That's not to say I didn't have any friends. I knew one girl who was similar to me, and there was this sort of shy boy that hung out with us too. We ate dinner at the dorm cafeteria, and sometimes we'd all go to a movie together, mostly on campus.
The lock on our the door to my dorm room stuck. I remember putting the key in one afternoon, fumbling with it, and then stopping when I couldn't get it. I could hear my roommate. She was talking about me. I didn't like what she was saying. And when I finally got into the room, it was awkward. She was off the phone, sitting at her desk, chatting with someone on her computer. I'm not a confrontational person, so I didn't say anything. But that person she was talking about, that wasn't me.
I thought about it more. It was nearly distracting. Did other people see me like that? A quiet, dorky loner? And worse, was I going to go through this whole experience and make no friends? I thought about all the times I had been to various colleges, or to football games, and seen the alumni, all with their good college friends. Was I going to be without that? That wasn't me.
A week or two later, I had heard my roommate planning something. A little party, in another girl's room. It wasn't going to be big. Just a couple of girls. I didn't want to seem like I'd been eavesdropping, but I mentioned it to her, and I told her that sounded like fun. I remember her trying not to look like I must have been kidding. And later on I found out she was really sweet, and we turned into really good friends. But she hesitated before she asked what I was doing, and eventually invited me to join them. I told her I wanted to.
There was no drinking in the dorms, so I was a little surprised when one of the girls in the room had a bottle of vodka. And, of course, something to mix. We all had a little drink, and the girls started talking. Mostly I listened. They talked about how hard classes were, missing home a little. After a couple more drinks, the conversation got a little racier. Cute professors, cute boys, and one of the girls even used a phrase I hadn't heard before, "fuck buddy." It didn't take me long to figure out what it was. But the concept was new to me. One of the girls complained that she had a wedgie, her thong was riding, and I thought then, I didn't even own a thong. All this was floating in my head as I fell asleep that night.
The next morning I decided to catch a bus to a nearby Target. I needed some things. And, while I was there, I walked past the underwear section. I saw a thong, it was blue, light blue striped, cotton. Nothing fancy or racy. I bought it.
I started hanging out with the girls from that first party a little more. They were all nice, and we got along. There was no cattiness, and no mean girl-type behavior. In fact, we were all almost supportive of each other. And I'd started wearing the thong. I remember sliding it on after a shower once, feeling the string slide up between my butt cheeks. It felt strange, a little uncomfortable almost. But I got used to it.
And we started hanging out with boys, too. One or two or three would come to our little gatherings. We'd all drink, flirt. One in particular I remember, he was a little shy, seemed almost uncomfortable, like me. But we started talking. And I could see that maybe he was a little homesick, felt a little out of place. And that attracted me to him, and he was cute. One night I'd gone back to my room a little earlier than my roommate, and as I lay in bed, in the darkness, I started to think about him. I wondered about him, what he'd be like alone. Maybe unconsciously almost, I started rubbing my tummy, then my bare tummy. My hand moved over my shorts, and I pressed myself through them. I'd touched myself before, but this time was different. I had him clear in my mind as I pulled my shorts down. I was careful not to make too much movement under the covers, should my roommate re-enter the room. But I started rubbing myself over my panties as I imagined his face. I thought about his body, and I inched my panties down, my sex now bare under the covers. I touched my wet lips with my index finger, slowly sliding up and down them. I'd done it before, but I was always a little shy about penetrating myself. I pressed on my lips, and soon I had my finger inside myself.
I pushed it in slowly, deeply, imagining his face, his cock. I moved my finger in and out of myself, imagining it was his cock. I figured it was smooth, not too long, but thick. I was wet, hot, and tight around my finger. I explored myself a little, pressing on the walls, moving my finger in different directions inside of myself. My finger was wet as I pulled it out of me, and found my clit. I pressed on my clit, then began to rub it slowly. I moved it up and down at first, but then settled on a slow, circular motion. I felt the tension build, then release in orgasm, and I found myself mouthing "I want your cock," as I pressed my hips up against my finger. I bit my lower lip.
Around this time I sort of splintered away from my two other, more bookish friends. It was probably for the best. I didn't dislike them, but they almost seemed to quietly resent my new friends and my new habits. Not that I was studying any less. I wasn't. I still had my priorities straight. But I was beginning to see that it wasn't an all or nothing proposition. I could have a little fun and still get my work done.
