This is the second entry in my "Kimmy's College Adventure Series. Although this can be read as a stand alone, you may want to read "Kimmy's Adventure - The Locker Room" first.
I'm a sucker, metaphorically speaking, for the nerd becomes popular movies such as "Can't Buy Me Love and "She's All That". This story is my take on this genre.
There is a slow build up to the sex scene.
This is realistic fiction. The track event depicted in the story is a real location but the college and characters portrayed are fictional. Any similarity to real people is coincidental.
All characters are 18-years or older.
Kimmy's College Adventures - Timmy's Virginity
The alarm on my phone rang for barely a second or two before I quickly rolled over in my hotel room bed, grabbed it from the night stand, and turned it off. I'd been awake for the better part of the last hour, too nervous to sleep anymore. All I could think about was the women's 3,000-meter finals I'd be competing in later that afternoon at the U.S. Outdoor Track and Field Championships.
It had taken me nearly three years to get to this point in my professional track career after I had graduated from State College. Right after my senior year I had missed out on making the Olympics, finishing well back of the pack at the U.S. trials. I suffered an injury the following year that sidelined me for most of the European meets. Then last year I finished just out of the medals in fourth place at the U.S. finals. I was not favored to win this year's race.
To say I was hungry to prove to myself and the track community that I was among the best in our country would be an understatement. I'd had a good indoor season and had placed in the top three in my first few out door meets this year. I finished second in my preliminary heat earlier in the week and felt I was peaking at the right time.
Call time for the shuttle bus to Hayward Field, which is located about 15-minutes away from my hotel in Eugene, OR, was 10 a.m. That gave me about 90-minutes to do my morning stretching, shower, dress, and eat. I picked up the phone and ordered some room service to be delivered in an hour, then turned on the T.V. I randomly put on the national ABC weekend news show as background noise as I began my stretching routine dressed in the Tee-shirt and panties I'd slept in.
I was in the middle of doing a hurdler stretch on my right leg, forehead nearly pressed to my knee cap, when I heard the anchor woman say, "And now here to tell us what's going on with the weather around the country today is our new weekend meteorologist Timmothy Terwilliger."
My head snapped up immediately in surprise. Sure enough their was Timmy, dressed in a dark blue pin striped suit with a light blue shirt and a grey and blue striped tie. He looked more mature, more confident than when I first met him more than five years ago. But he still had that curly brown mop that always looked like it needed to be combed and those horned rimmed glasses that gave him that nerdy professorial look.
Although we followed each other on social media, I hadn't really spoken to Timmy since I graduated. I'd moved to Colorado to train and we really didn't keep in touch. But that was true for a lot of people I'd known in college. I saw that he'd done an internship with the National Weather Service his senior year like he'd wanted, and had gotten a job as the weatherman for a TV station near our alma mater after he graduated. However I didn't know he had worked his way up to his new gig until I saw his smiling face on the TV screen.
Whoever had met the introverted and reclusive Timmy early in his college career never would have thought one day he would be standing in front of a camera broadcasting to millions of people around the country on a national newscast. But there he was standing assertively before the camera.
"Thank you Stacey," Tim said to the anchor woman. "And hello America. I'm looking forward to filling you in on what's going on in the world of weather.
"Let's start up in the great North West," he continued, "where most of that region will surprisingly be bathed in bright sun shine with comfortable temps in the mid 60's which will be perfect conditions for the U.S. Outdoor Track and Field Championships that are being held today in Eugene, OR. I want to give a quick shoutout to my friend and fellow State College alum Kimmy Anderson who is participating in the women's 3,000-meter finals this afternoon. Good luck Freak! Leave it all out on the track! Now looking at the south west it will be..."
I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Prior to that moment, only my closest friends and most "intimate" of acquaintances knew me by the sobriquet "Freaky Fresh" which was shortened to Freak over time. It had been given to me freshman year by track team captain LaShawna (La La) Dawson after our first sexual encounter in the women's locker room. My subsequent sexual exploits only added to the legend of my moniker. Now millions of viewers around the country heard it. Although I doubted anyone would really be paying attention to it or understand what it meant.
Then all of a sudden my cell phone "blew up" with texts and tweets from friends, family, and fans all commenting that they'd heard Timmy's broadcast. Some were wondering what he meant by "Freak".
"Thanks Timmy," I said sarcastically as I got up off the floor and looked back to the flat screen on the wall just in time to see him finish his forecast. I silenced my phone, threw it on the bed, and walked to the bathroom.
After I'd turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature of the water, I stripped off my bed clothes and stepped in the tub. I lathered my tiny tits with their large stiff nipples and watched the suds stream down my flat abs to my always horny pussy. As I lowered one hand between my legs, I couldn't help but start to think back to how Timmy and I met and how special a moment it was for both of us when I took his virginity.
xx
I guess it was the first week of the fall semester of my junior year when I saw Timmy for the first time. I had about an hour or so to kill between my last class and cross-country practice and was visiting my freshman roommate Gina Palmer in her dorm room at McDavid Hall. She was a resident assistant (RA) there in order to offset the cost of her tuition. She was in charge of the third floor of the three story co-ed building with four person suites. Each floor had eight suites with four men and four women suites per floor. There were staircases at either end of the hall. Her single room was in the middle of the corridor.
We'd been catching each other up on what we'd been doing during summer break, classes we were taking, and of course recent hook-ups. I'd been there for about an hour when I saw it was time to leave.
I took a right turn out of Gina's room when suddenly I heard a commotion coming from the suite at the end of the hall. Two guys I recognized as lacrosse players came barreling out of the doorway holding a book bag followed by this smaller curly haired kid. He was meekly whining for them to give it back as they began tossing it to each other like they were playing monkey in the middle.
Now you could say it was nothing more than just horsing around, but I didn't see it that way. Bullying shit like that pissed me off. It reminded me how I was treated sometimes by the "In Crowd" in high school. It took friends and teammates like La La to help instill a confidence that allowed me to stand up for myself. Now I was going to use that ability to help this kid I didn't even know.
"Come on Derrick!" the curly haired kid pleaded without a lot of conviction. "My lap-top's in there and I can't afford for it to get broken."
The two assholes imitated Timmy's pleas and continued to tease him as they tossed it back and forth a couple more times, nearly dropping it once. I didn't really know the shorter of the two jocks, but I knew who Derrick was. At a little over 6-feet tall and 200-pounds he was an egotistical pretty boy who thought he was gods gift to lacrosse and women. But in reality he was nothing more than a bully who tried to increase his own self worth by teasing and embarrassing those he felt were inferior.
I figured if I could get him to stop the other guy would back off too.
"Hey douchebags!" I yelled loud enough that it echoed off the cinderblock walls. "This ain't high school. Give the kid back his book bag."
