Junior College Days Ch 01

It was not any normal Friday.

"Any comments, class? That was certainly a stirring short story by Wilde, wasn't it?" The literature teacher asked.

"It certainly stirred my crotch." The Jock said.

I giggled at the spontaneous comment. Whatever the Jock said was funny. The Jock in this case was called Jack. Big Jack, his teammates called him. And was he big! He was broad of shoulder and thick necked from the hours he spent in the gym, with a beautifully groomed mullet that reached his collar and vexed the teachers to no end. But what could they do? He was the super-star of the rugby team, the hero. Not only that, but he was a punk rocker. I drooled over punk rockers. And he wrote great poetry. "Jack, where did you copy this from? Plagiarism is illegal!" the teachers had exclaimed. But he had written it himself. I believed him.

I excused myself from the lecture hall and went into the toilet just down the corridor. He certainly stirred MY crotch. A brief glance around proved I was alone in the toilet – after all, it was during lessons. In my school, being the prestigious junior college, the top school academically and in sports in the country, no one went to the toilet during class. What if they missed out on some important snippet of information the teacher had? Well, no one except me. I slipped out of my pink Converse shoes and pulled my thong down from under my green pleated skirt. I stepped back into my shoes and sniffed at the pink thong – it smelt of me, and it was pretty damp. I guess I have great fantasies in class. Anyway, I couldn't control myself anymore. I had to have the Jock, and the competition was pretty hot. But so was I. 5'3 – that's about 1.55m, slim, athletic. Not much in the way of boobs, but pretty well off for an 18 year-old Singaporean girl anyway.

I stuffed the thong into the waste paper basket. I couldn't afford to carry it around. I shivered. Suddenly my already altered short green pleated skirt felt even shorter, if that was possible. The dress regulation was two inches above the knee max. Mine felt like it was two inches below my crotch, max. It was actually only a slightly immodest mid-thigh, ok, slightly above mid-thigh length. But it was short enough. My junior college was situated on top of a hill, so it could get pretty windy – wicked.

I returned to the lecture hall, and got back into my seat directly behind and above Jack. If he turned around, he would be able to see right in between my legs. Which was what I wanted, of course. He's been checking out this junior recently, and having known me for ages as the pretty friend who was JUST a friend, he was getting bored of me. Time to spice up his, well, OUR lives.

"Hey, Jack. What are we doing now?" I whispered.

Like a charm, he turned behind to look. "Hey Sue, we're... we're... we're..." My legs maintained a slight gap apart, so I knew he couldn't really be sure if there was anything there or not. He gathered himself and looked away from my crotch into my eyes. "We're doing the next chapter already, babe."

"Thanks." I gave my best sweet smile. He turned back. I knocked my pen off the lecture seat's table, and it rolled down one step to land underneath his chair. "Shit. Jack, help me get my pen, pretty please?"

"No prob." He picked it up and turned again, and this time he was rewarded with a clear view of my glistening pussy. "Holy shit, Sue. Er...your pen."

"Thank you, darling." I smiled even more sweetly. "What's up?" He hadn't turned back.

He looked his fill, then looked at me and grinned. "I'm up."

Ooh, that man's self-confidence! I nearly swooned.

It was recess. He came over to sit next to me, at the rugger's table the ruggers and the netball girls always sat at. He leaned over and whispered into my ear, " What was THAT all about, Sue?" I looked at him, and looked at the crowded canteen. I smiled and took my plate and walked off, to the table across him. I sat facing him, and spread my legs wide apart. He tensed, as he had a fantastic view of my pussy for the second time today.

"JACK! Stop looking up other girls skirts lah!" The rest of the canteen crowd had come back with their food, and my knees snapped shut once more. His mouth hadn't, though. We were soon flanked by our friends, and talking, laughing and joking loudly, and through it all, he stared at me. Not the ogling kind of stare, but the sweltering, piercing stare he had perfected. He wanted me, too. I had succeeded. Moral of the story: Guys like sluts.

I got an sms – an instant text message, from him later. You are fucking sexy, babe. See you at the party tonight. And for the rest of the day, he ignored me. I tried to get him to notice me again, but no success. He was onto my game, and all I had to do now was let him do his stuff. The party he was talking about was the one at China-black, the oft frequented club in the middle of Orchard, the central shopping district in Singapore. It was a really popular club, usually packed to the max, but tonight, it was booked for a party. By my friends. There was no party I did not know about, and none that I could not get a free ticket to. Which was cool, but also meant I wasn't studying hard enough. Never mind, I told myself. Last party of the year. Last party of the year.

I dolled myself up in front of my little vanity mirror at home. Shower. Toenails, fingernails, shave, pluck eyebrows, eyeliner, li'l bit of eyeshadow, glitter, lipstick – vixen red. A black tube dress that reached mid thigh. Hot, red thong, and no bra – I didn't really need one. Bling bling – a black choker, and bracelet. Short, brown highlighted hair mussed up, and waxed. Pink 2-inch heels – nothing to high to go club with, please. Experience tells me anything above 3 inches and you're liable to sprain your ankle.

The queue at China Black was madness – it snaked out the front entrance of the shopping mall that it was situated in. Snaked and turned a few times. It was packed at eleven o'clock when I got there with my gaggle of girlfriends. "Eww... Look at the crowd! Eric's been charging cheap for the tickets again!" "And over-selling, by the looks of it! The lousy fucker." We laughed, but we weren't really pissed off. We went through the main entrance, and bypassed the whole queue, soaking in the attention, the stares. I felt slutty, and I was liking it. I've always liked it. It gave the wholesome, studious, athletic netballer that was me a naughty side. The guys like it too. At the entrance to China Black, I could hear the RnB tunes pounding heavily in the club. I smiled at the guy collecting the money and tickets. "Eric!"

"Chica! Sue, welcome, welcome. Here." He stamped our wrists with the entrance stamp. "Go right in." My whole posse entered the club, and for a while, my heart went out to the people still stuck in the queue. But only for a while.

We headed to the bar to get a little high first. I was intercepted by a hunk – a broad-shouldered, thick-necked, smiling hunk with a sweltering gaze. "Hey Sue." Jack proffered a shot-glass. I took it and knocked it back without asking – vodka and rum. "Vodka and rum and a li'l extra, babe. Tequila." He was in a too tight pink t-shirt, and I could see his tattoo on his pectoral peeking out over his t-shirt collar. Levis pulled tight over a taut butt. The vodka-rum-tequila hit my head.

"'Nother please." He already had another waiting, and I shot it down, too. He put his hand firmly on the small of my back and guided me to the packed dance-floor. I felt small and vulnerable, but he was big, and thick and I felt secure with his hand on my back. His other hand went around my back and they began to travel southward. I put my arms around his neck. His hands gripped my ass, and I stiffened, my body thrust against his. And we began to dance. The bass of the RnB beat pounded and my heart pounded with it, as we shook our booty. This was what people mean when they say "Oh, they were sliming each other last night." We were sliming each other, our bodies interlocked. He was grinding me, and I felt his hardness against my waist as I pressed against him. His hands roamed freely over me, and he put his right knee out, and I ground onto him, my crotch squirming over his thigh and knee as he held my waist. We couldn't get tired of each other.

His mouth found mine, and we were frenching on the dance-floor. No need for dancing. He was fondling my ass and my hands were feeling the hardness of his body. He slid my tube up over my ass. Nobody stopped him. I didn't stop him. His hands found my slit and he was stroking it, and moulding it, and I moaned into his mouth.

"Let's get out of here."