Every year around springtime I get nostalgic when I think of the sexual highlight of my high school years, or college years for that matter. I am now twenty-five years old and look pretty much the same as when I was eighteen and this timeless moment took place. I am an inch or so taller and my hips are a little fuller. I have gone from a B to a C cup and feel them as perky as ever. My face has a more mature look. I feel womanly, but can't help look at that high school senior with pride.
Gretel was also eighteen when we had one glorious moment, before moving on to adulthood. I always thought of her as a queen bee in high school, and in grade school. It seemed that there were a few queens in school. Each clique had it's own leader. Gretel lorded over the athletes. The basketball and softball players, and by default the cheerleaders.
I was always considered cute, but very shy and studious. My only sexual experience was when I gave my virginity to my best friend Stacy's older brother. He poked me with his large penis and made me scream. I think he felt he accomplished something heroic by making me howl in pain. I hurt for days.
My cute look: I was about 5'4". I had dark hair and dark eyes. My skin was very pale. I was blessed with and still am with a heart shaped ass. My 34B's had pink nipples that would come alive at the slightest touch. My cute look attracted my share of boys. These boys seemed to be the second and third tier boys. I wasn't attracted to them or to the popular kids. I liked the dangerous kind, the dark and mysterious boys who were usually getting detention. I never seemed to make any headway with them.
Since grade school I had always found myself staring at Gretel. She was a diva. She was about 5'9" and had curly blonde hair. Blue eyes that looked right through people. Her skin had a tan look that held throughout the year. She had long legs and the sexiest bubble butt I have ever seen. She always showed it off, especially in her team outfits. I could never really judge the size or shape of her breasts because she always wore either loose blouses or bulky sweaters. She usually wore a sports bra under her uniform. I loved watching the way she moved. The way her long legs strode through a crowd. I marveled when she let her dominant nature show. I am sure it was not easy being a queen bee. I wish we had been friends, and am still saddened that because of the cliques in school we were on different sides. She was on the cool side and me on the bookish side.
I saw her play sports as much as I could, sitting out of the way so I could stare at her as much as possible without being noticed. I became aroused when she got tangled up with other girls on the basketball court. I preferred to watch her on the softball field when she pitched. It was fast pitch softball. She would wind up with all her might and let the ball loose then she would drag her right foot on the ground as she completed the motion. I thought that was so sexy, capping off her beautiful motion. She lost her share of games, but senior year was her time. She was undefeated through the regular season and headed towards the playoffs.
It was at a softball game that I think she realized I was staring at her and only at her. She looked right at me for a few seconds. My mouth must have been opened and I was probably drooling. I was jealous of the girls that got to spank her bottom and desperately wanted to be spanked by her. I was certain that I was straight, but in love with a beautiful girl, Gretel.
I was in the bathroom one morning, looking at myself in the mirror, trying to look my best. All of a sudden, towering over me, there was Gretel. She sometimes wore high heels to school and this made her seem even more in control.
"Can I talk to you," she ordered.
"Sure, Gretel. " I am not sure if I stuttered.
She was having trouble in U.S. Government and needed some help. I guess that always having my name on the principles list made people wonder if I did anything besides study.
'Too much partying I guess. This is the last year of high school and all. Maybe I can get you invited to a party if you get me back on track. We have playoffs coming up, and, well, that bitch we have for a teacher won't back down. I could miss a game." Gretel seemed serious.
I agreed to help her and we arranged a time after school. She would leave practice early. We were going to meet in the library She instructed me to go home after school and come back at 4:00.
"Wear something casual. So we can relax." She said, looking down at my blue blouse and even bluer pants.
"Sure, Gretel." I tried to make my voice clear.
All day I thought of how our interaction would go. I wanted to be so close to her, to her beauty. After school I went home and showered and looked for something casual. I tried to copy her look, her after practice or after a game look. I found a pair of baggy brown shorts and an oversized shirt. I put on a pair of flip-flops and left excitedly.
I passed by Gretel as I was going into the school. She was holding court with a couple of star-struck J.V. softball players. She did not seem to want to acknowledge me. I quietly went inside and headed for the library. Gretel walked in a minute or so later. She was on time. She had on a pair of long shorts and was wearing an oversized shirt. She had on sports sandals and was not wearing socks. She had pink nail polish on her hands and feet. She said the coach had let her go early and she was now changed and relaxed. She took off her sandals and sat down in a chair and crossed her legs. I was disappointed. The long shorts prevented me from seeing her thighs or sneaking a look at her private area.