Lucy Beyond Belief

Thanks to my editor, Nymphwriter, and my loyal beta readers who found my errors and made suggestions to improve my story. Any other errors you may find are mine alone.

* * *

It's said that opportunity only knocks once, and am I ever lucky I answered that knock. Looking back, though, my childhood wasn't all that lucky. Dad and mom both worked to provide enough income to feed my brother and me. We always had food on the table, but money was tight. While other families went to Disney World on vacation, our vacations were inexpensive alternatives—camping out or visiting relatives.

Mom was our moral compass. She was strict and upright—a proper mom who taught us to always do the right thing, even if we had to go out of our way to do it. She also demanded we be polite and respect women.

Dad always told my brother and me that we should learn as much as possible so we could get a job that made us indispensable. He said we could make more money by using our head than by using our hands. With that thought in the back of my head, I took all the math and science courses I could.

Although my high school was small, I had a great science teacher who introduced me to electronics. He was the physics teacher, and after school was the advisor for the robotics club. He taught us about electronic chips—microcontrollers and op amps, as well as the usual resistors, capacitors, and transistors. He also taught us how to make our own printed circuit boards, how to solder, and how to write software to program the microcontrollers. I think I learned more from him outside class than in it. I read and absorbed every electronics book or magazine I could get my hands on. Anyway, my grades were good, and he steered me toward a career in electronics engineering.

I applied to a Midwestern university, well-known for its engineering curriculum, and was riding high when I was accepted. My parents weren't wealthy by any means, so if I was going to college, I'd have to supplement my college tuition by getting a part-time job.

I'd say my lucky streak began when I arrived at college in 2004, my first time away from home. Like most of the other freshmen, I experienced some homesickness, a sense of freedom from parental control, and a sense that I was now living in an adult world. Within a few days after arriving on campus, I had a job at a local pizza carry-out on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights, and sometimes on weekends when they were short of help.

The one problem I had was chemistry for engineers. It was a mandatory course, and it had a reputation for eliminating many would-be engineers. Essentially, it was a 'washout' course to trap the unwary who weren't dedicated to hard work. If I didn't get past chemistry, that would be the end of my hopes for an electronics education. I pulled a 'B' in high school chemistry, but it wasn't one of my favorite subjects. I liked math and physics much better.

Checking the schedule for chemistry lab, I saw students were paired off alphabetically by last name. Searching down the list, I found my name, M. Thomas, paired up with another student, E. Thompson. I was hoping he could help me through the quagmire of this mandatory course.

The first chemistry lab was devoted to mostly checking out and inventorying our lab equipment. It turned out my lab partner, E. Thompson, was named Emily. I introduced myself as Michael.

After our introduction, I found out she was a business major. Oh great,' I thought, 'This is my toughest course, and I'm going to be saddled carrying this woman through chemistry the entire year.'

Emily was only one of three women in the lab, but she was, by far, the best looking. She was slim with auburn hair cut in a bob hairstyle that nicely framed her face. She had a pixie nose and pouty lips. Her eyes, though, were her best feature. Those azure, expressive bluish-green eyes held my attention from the first look.

We hit it off from the beginning. She had a quick smile and a wonderful sense of humor.

I asked her a question, "What is the first rule in chemistry lab?"

She replied, "Safety first?"

"Nice try, but hot glass looks exactly like cold glass," I said.

She laughed and came back with, "Did you hear oxygen and magnesium got together...? Omg!"

We went back and forth like that most of the lab. I loved the way she teased and the way her eyes twinkled.

As we were inventorying and putting our chemistry equipment in our locker, she surprised me by correctly identifying every item on the list, even though some of the equipment was unfamiliar to me.

When we finished, I was hoping the lab was longer, because I really enjoyed being with Emily. I think she felt the same way, because when the graduate student who monitored the lab said we were free to leave after we'd turned in our inventory form, Emily hung around for several minutes just to chat.

I looked forward to the next chemistry lab. Another week, and a couple more labs later, we became more friendly. Emily seemed to know a lot more about chemistry than me. I asked her, "Why are you taking chemistry for engineers when you're a business major?"

She replied, "My dad wants me to know a lot about chemistry, because that's our family business. This was the only chemistry class I could get into."

Chemistry for engineers was reputed to be one of the toughest courses on campus. The fact that Emily, a business major, was in the course didn't make a lot of sense. I wondered how she knew so much about chemistry. By the fourth lab, I got the idea she was sandbagging chemistry class.

"Emily, did you understand everything the professor said about stochastic processes and entropy in yesterday's lecture?"

"Yes, why?"

"Well, I'm struggling with chemistry, and I won't be able to stay in the electronics engineering program if I don't pass it," I said.

"Would you like me to help you?" she asked.

It didn't take me long to answer 'yes' to her offer. It allowed me to spend more time with this angelic co-ed whom I drooled over. So Tuesday and Thursday evenings, Emily and I spent a couple hours in a study-date going over what we'd covered in chemistry the past week.

The next couple of weeks, Emily and I got to know one another a lot better. Like the chemical bonds between hydrogen and oxygen, there was a special chemistry between us. We attended the home football games together. I took her to a movie one weekend and another weekend we attended a local fall festival. We agreed to become boyfriend and girlfriend.

Emily and I held hands and kissed passionately a number of times, but we hadn't gone beyond hugging and kissing. During those study-dates, Emily's roommate, Sharon, was usually there, so heavy make-out sessions were out of the question.

When Sharon wasn't there, I got the impression the way Emily came on to me that she was interested in sex. I would have considered it, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her my dark secret.

At one of our chemistry labs, Emily said, "Daddy wants to meet you."

"Why would he want to meet me?" I asked.

"I told him all about you. He and mom are passing through town on a business trip tomorrow, and I'd like to introduce you to them, if you don't mind."

The next evening, I met Emily's father and mother, John and Lisa. They were a nice-looking, almost middle-aged couple, reminding me of my own parents. Lisa and Emily had the same hairstyle. I could also see that Emily shared the facial features of both her mother and father. What caught my attention was that all three of them had the same auburn hair color and intense bluish-green eyes.

When Emily introduced me to her father, he said, "I'm finally getting to meet the young man who can walk on water."

I wasn't sure I understood what he was talking about. Then Lisa added, "Emily thinks the world of you, Michael. Every time we talk to her, she tells us how wonderful you are. We wanted to meet the young man she's so head-over-heels in love with."

Lisa brought Emily some home-made chocolate chip cookies. Emily thanked her, then offered to share some with me.

John said, "Emily tells us you build robots and know a lot about electronics. She thinks that's terrific."

"I like to build all kinds of electronics, and robots are a lot of fun," I responded.

We visited for about an hour, then John suggested we get something to eat. "I know college kids love pizza, how about we take you and Emily out to a local pizzeria?" he asked.

Emily and I looked at each other and laughed. "Dad, he works at a pizza place three or four nights a week," she said. "I doubt he wants to eat another one."

"Well then, is there an Italian restaurant around here?" John asked.

"Yes," Emily replied. "It's not real Italian, but there's an Olive Garden just off campus."

We went to the local Olive Garden and had a decent meal—at least a lot better than university cafeteria food. While we were dining, John and Lisa seemed interested in what I was studying and my relationship with Emily.

I told them my goal was to graduate with an electronic engineering degree, and that although Emily and I had a few dates, they were mostly study-dates. I told them I really enjoyed spending time with her.

Before John and Lisa departed, John pulled me aside and said, "Thank you for cheering up my daughter. Our visit was to insure she's okay. She had a bout of depression before she left for college, but I don't see that she's depressed now. Take good care of her."

"Yes sir, I will," I responded.

In mid-November, Emily asked if I was going home for Thanksgiving. I answered that given my lack of funds, I thought I'd stay on campus for the holiday. Since it was only a four-day holiday, I didn't want to waste money on an airline ticket, then face the hordes of travelers during the busiest travel weekend of the year.

"Dad and mom said I could bring a friend home for Thanksgiving. Would you like to come with me?" she asked.

"I thought you'd ask Sharon."

"I did, but she's going to visit her family, so I'm asking you—you're my boyfriend."

"I'm not sure I want to go through the long lines and the security hassle at the airport," I replied.

"Well, you won't have to do that. Daddy's sending the company jet out to pick me up. You're invited to come along."

'Wow, Emily's father owns a business jet?' I thought to myself. It hadn't been apparent when he and Lisa visited a couple weeks earlier. Emily told me her family was in the chemical business, but she hadn't mentioned a jet plane.

It didn't take me long to consider the alternatives—hanging around a dead campus or spending time with a girl I'd fallen in love with. "Sure, I'd like to spend Thanksgiving with you and your family."

A couple days before Thanksgiving, Emily told me I needn't pack many clothes for the weekend. "I come from a family of nudists," she revealed.

She caught me by surprise. I'd never considered being naked around a girlfriend's family. Being with Emily nearly always caused me to have an erection. What would she think about that? What would John and Lisa think? While all those thoughts were flying around my head, I felt flushed. At that point, I considered backing out of Emily's invitation.

"You're blushing," Emily laughed.

"Well, you blindsided me with that revelation. I had no idea."

"We don't advertise it, but most of our friends know. Now you do too."

I put my apprehension aside and agreed to accompany Emily on a Thanksgiving holiday. The day before Thanksgiving, Emily and I arrived at the local airport and waited on her father's business jet.

While we were waiting in the small airport lounge, Emily filled me in about her family. She told me that when her grandparents were in college during the 1960's, they became hippies. The hippie movement was in full swing back then, she said. She told me her grandparents all lived together and enjoyed being nudists. Her parents were both raised in the same nudist life style.

I wondered if Emily was following in her parent's footsteps. "Hold on," I said. "You say all your grandparents lived together?"

"Yes, that's what I understand—both my grandfathers were studying chemistry at Berkeley. They shared an apartment and my grandmothers moved in with them."

"There must be an interesting story in there somewhere," I said.

"Maybe they'll tell us tomorrow. You'll meet them at Thanksgiving dinner."

While we were chatting, Emily spotted the company plane landing on the runway. We watched it taxi into a parking spot near the small terminal and shut down. A fuel truck arrived, and the pilot talked with the fuel truck driver, then the pilot and co-pilot entered the terminal.

Emily introduced me to the pilot and co-pilot. She asked how long it would be before they planned to take off. The pilot said they wanted to get something to eat in the snack bar and they needed to file a flight plan back to California.

The jet had six passenger seats, so there was plenty of space to stretch out. The pilots asked if I'd like to visit the cockpit to look around after we took off. I took advantage of their offer and had an opportunity to learn how some of the plane's electronics worked.

Returning from my cockpit tour, Emily and I spent the remainder of the flight discussing our personal lives.

Emily told me she was home schooled for ten years, from the third grade through high school. She mentioned her mother had an education degree and her father had a Ph.D in chemistry. Since she was home schooled, she didn't have a chance to meet many boys, she said. The only boys she spent any time around were at nudist resorts.

I spent some time telling Emily about my family, our home life, my high school, and my electronics hobby.

After sharing our backgrounds, we both agreed that our families were much different.

Four hours after we left, we were in California.

John picked us up at the airport in his Lexus SUV. Leaving the airport, instead of heading toward town, John headed the other direction toward the mountains. John said it was about half an hour drive.

The closer we got to their home, the more apprehensive I became. Nudism seemed a faraway concept when I left college, but now that I was close to exposing my body to Emily and her family, my stomach began tying itself in a knot.

The last couple miles, we climbed up a narrow winding road to their home on a ridge about halfway up a mountainside. The view from there across the valley below was spectacular.

My first view of Emily's parents' home inspired awe. Surrounded by fir trees, it appeared as if it ought to be on the cover of a Better Homes & Gardens magazine. Their home was built on the mountain in two levels. The roof was nearly completely covered by solar panels, and a satellite receiver was barely visible on the far end of the roof.

Just as we arrived at the Thompson's home, John received a call that there was a problem at his chemical plant, so he dropped Emily and I off, and returned to town.

Lisa met us at the front door, nude. When I'd met her before, back at the university, I had no idea she or John were nudists. Now I had an opportunity to view all her female charms.

The first thing which caught my attention—besides her large grapefruit-sized breasts, was a three-inch, Monarch butterfly tattoo on the left one. The second thing was the fat, pink nipple on the same breast.

"Hi, Emily and Michael," Lisa said, as she hugged Emily hello. When she let go of Emily and turned toward me, a thought flashed through my mind—'What is the proper etiquette for greeting a female nudist when you're a fully-clothed male—a hug or handshake?'

I decided the best choice was to shake hands. As I looked down to reach for her hand, my eyes caught a glimpse of the charms between her legs. Of course, that view caused an immediate inflation of my nether parts.

Lisa said, "I'm so happy you could come home with Emily for Thanksgiving weekend."

"Thank you for allowing Emily to invite me," I responded.

"Emily dear, would you show Michael to the guest bedroom?" Lisa requested.

Emily led me to the guest bedroom. As I followed her through her home, I marveled at the interior design. Everywhere I looked was another feast for my eyes.

Once in the guest bedroom, Emily said, "Here's a towel. You can get undressed, then I'll take you on a tour of the house. Leave your shoes and socks on, because we might go outside, and you don't want to get a sticker in your foot."

"What's the towel for?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm sorry—I should have explained. It's part of nudist etiquette—for sitting on. I'm sure you can figure it out," Emily said.

Emily departed and it was then I noticed there wasn't a door on the bedroom. I figured that since they were nudists, they didn't find bedroom doors necessary in their home.

My nervousness increased as I removed my clothing and looked down—my erection left over from seeing Emily's naked mother wouldn't go down. I blew out a breath. Damn! It always gave away my emotions, and I didn't want Emily, or her mother, to see me with a boner.

A couple minutes later, a nude Emily stuck her head in the entry, "Are you ready, Mike?"

I was sitting on the towel on the bed with my hands in my lap, willing my cock to deflate. "Almost," I said.

Emily crossed the room toward the bed. I'm sorry to admit it, but my eyes were drawn to her nubile, feminine charms. But I'm a guy, after all. Her breasts were small—I'd say plum-sized—or perhaps the size of small apples. Her tummy was flat, and between her legs was a triangular, auburn, well-trimmed bush. I was happy to see the carpet matched the drapes.

As she turned to sit next to me, I noticed a beautiful, three-inch, Monarch butterfly tattoo near the top of her left butt cheek—similar to the butterfly Lisa had on her left breast. It probably wouldn't have been visible under her panties—if she'd worn any. Seeing her naked just made my cock stiffer. How embarrassing!

She looked down between my legs, "I know what your problem is," she giggled. "It happens to all guys, and I've seen plenty of them, so don't worry about it."

Emily leaned into me and kissed me on the cheek. Seeing and feeling her soft, warm boob brush against my arm as she kissed me only made it worse.

"You're blushing all over," Emily laughed. She was right. It felt like I'd been sitting in the hot sun on a summer day.

"Emily, I'd be mortified if your mother saw me like this."

"She's knows all about hard cocks. How do you think I came to be born?"

Emily stepped away from the bed and went into the bathroom. She came back with a warm washcloth.

"Lie down, and I'll take care of it for you," she ordered.

Emily put pressure on my shoulder, easing me backward to a prone position. I was on my back with my cock pointing straight up at the ceiling. She sat next to my hip and wrapped one end of the warm washcloth around my cock with the other end on my scrotum.

"Just relax. I'll have it fixed I no time," she said, as she smiled down at me.

She commented, "You have a nice one. Be proud of what Mother Nature gave you, because a lot of guys would be happy to have yours."

I almost lost it when Emily's soft warm hand first touched my cock. She enclosed it with her hand and began slowly stroking. "Relax and let it out. You have too much sperm in there."

She hadn't made half a dozen strokes when I felt the familiar tingling in my groin and balls. "Emily, I'm about to..." and then I erupted into the washcloth.

"There, didn't I make it feel better?" she asked.

"Oh wow, did you ever! You made it feel like it was turning wrong-side out."

She chuckled, and used the bottom half of the washcloth to clean me off.

"What does the butterfly tattoo represent?" I asked.

"My mom and my Grandma Donna have the same Monarch butterfly tattoo on their left breast. I wanted one too, but my breasts are too small for one that large." She held up her fingers, made air quotes, and giggled, "Since it's a 'butt'-er-fly, I had it put on my butt cheek."