Part I: Donna
They weren't exactly international supermodels. Mary, Patty, Barbara and Donna were Freshman roommates making the best of an overcrowded dorm.
I met Donna at a mixer the first week of classes. Within an hour we were naked.
Donna was eager and willing, but still very much a virgin. Some guys would have charged ahead. I couldn't. Not with a girl I'd known for less time than it takes to finish a Physics Quiz.
But I did everything else I could to please her.
I must have succeeded. As we kissed goodbye at her dorm the next day she whispered: "You know, I made a promise to share everything this year."
"With your roommates?" I asked. "You're going to tell them what we did?"
"Of course," she said with a smile that somehow implied that telling was only the half of it. "We promised to share EVERYTHING!"
"Everything?"
"Yes, Sweetie, everything! So get ready, because I think they're all going to want to meet you."
And they did.
This is my recollection of one remarkable era in an otherwise unremarkable sex life. The basic facts are true, although dished up with a serving of literary embellishment. The names have been changed to protect the not-necessarily-so innocent.
The Four Freshmen. Part I: Donna
She was wearing a snug yellow sweater and skin-tight jeans that emphasized her full breasts, flat stomach, perfectly shaped ass, and skinny legs that never seemed to stop. There was something suggestively Italian about her almond-shaped eyes and curly auburn mane.
But Donna's complexion was all wrong. Or all right, depending on how you look at it. She had the pale, flawless skin of an Anne Hathaway or an Evan Rachel Wood.
I asked her to dance, she answered with the shy smile.
During the first dance, her eyes never stopped searching my face. The second dance was slow and when I pulled her close, she ground her pelvis against my thigh.
There was no third dance. We were out the door before the music started.
"I'm Jason," I said folding her fingers into mine.
"I know," she smiled, her eyes catching the shimmer of reflected neon light as we passed through the Square. "You're in my Medieval Lit course. I'm Donna," she added, squeezing my hand.
It wasn't like me to overlook a beautiful classmate. But somehow I had. Instead of uttering something potentially stupid, I simply leaned over and kissed her.
It was the best decision I'd ever made. Our lips touched, parted, and our tongues collided–sending shivers down my spine. Then, as they say, she melted into my arms.
I buried my face in Donna's hair and inhaled deeply. First came the bright floral aroma of shampoo. Then the complex bouquet of essential oils from a perfume that seemed faintly familiar. Finally, a trace of a musky, feminine fragrance that hinted at sexual arousal.
By the time we reached my dorm, her fingers were inside my shirt stroking my chest. And somehow I had worked my hand between her jeans and panties and was cupping the curve of her amazing buttocks in my palm. We broke our embrace long enough to light a votive candle – the only alternative to switching on the environmentally friendly, but aesthetically hideous, florescent room lights.
In the warm, flickering light, I watched Donna unfold on my bed. She stretched out on her back, fingers spreading her magnificent tangle of dark hair across my pillow. Beneath the pale sweater, firm breasts rose and fell in time with her breathing. Her eyes, lips and face glowed with an inner light that reminded of Renaissance portraits of Madonna and Child. It crossed my mind that maybe I had, indeed, somehow died and gone to Heaven.
Donna's glossy lips parted invitingly. Then she closed her eyes, spread her legs and gently arched her back. Her jeans stretched drum-tight across her abdomen, creating a perfect V that began at the hipbones and ended where the inseam vanished between her thighs.
I lowered myself onto her. Her breasts pushed back against my chest, and my cock nestled into the waiting gap between her thighs. Even through our clothing, I sensed the moist warmth of her sex. Her fingers grasped my neck and pulled me closer. Our lips reconnected, I savored her fragrance and I lost myself in the liquid passion of an endless kiss.
It was our breathing–short and fast and urgent–along with Donna's muffled whimpers that brought me back. Not only were our tongues swirling together with furious intensity, but my now rock solid cock was pressed against her soft sex. Our hips moved in unison, cock and vulva grinding together at a rising tempo.
I groaned, Donna whimpered, and we dry humped with increasing urgency. A moment later, Donna went rigid in my arms and her whimpers morphed into a deep, satisfied moan.
It took every ounce of self-discipline, but I managed to suppress my own onrushing orgasm. Instead, I folded Donna in my arms, nestled her cheek against my chest and stroked her hair as her body shuddered with a series of tremors that took nearly a minute to subside.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but when she opened her eyes, Donna was smiling. Her body relaxed in my arms and raising her lips to my ear she whispered: "That was amazing!"
I answered by nuzzling her neck and swirling my tongue in her ear.
She shuddered again, sniffled a little and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. "That was my first time with another person."
"Beautiful," I told her. "You are beautiful."
We lay in each other's arms, listening to the cacophony of dorm noise. The rumble of a bass woofer from the room above. Feet shuffling along the corridor outside my door. A TV blasting muffled dialog in the lounge. Random laughter from a distant party.
At last, my erection began to subside. I could still feel the heat between us and the scent of sex wafting from her skin. Then I drifted off...
I woke up to the wonderful feeling of fingertips trailing through my hair. Donna was sitting, holding my head in her lap.
"Can I ask you something?" she asked in a soft, perfectly modulated voice. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to."
"Sure," I replied, not feeling nearly as confident as I sounded.
"Do you have a lot of sexual experience?"
"Not like some guys," I equivocated. "I had a girlfriend in High School and although we never had actual intercourse, we did a lot of other stuff."
"And?" she asked with that dazzling smile.
"Last summer I backpacked through Europe and met a girl from France. We were travelled together for a couple of weeks and, I guess you could say became intimate... very intimate."
I searched for any hint of jealousy, but there was only a dreamy expression in her eyes as she processed this admission. She pulled herself to a sitting position and wrapped her arms around her knees. After a long pause she told me, "Tonight is my first time ever... ever really letting myself go."
"I kinda sensed that... I don't want to pry."
"That's OK. I want to tell you," she said, hugging her knees to her breasts. "My Mom left when I was six. I was raised by my Father. He's a wonderful man..."
