If A Tree Falls In A Forest

It has been variously described as a philosophical thought experiment, ethical conundrum, and nightmare job interview question. "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it does it make a sound?" An offshoot of that question had real world significance to me.

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In many ways I won the gene lottery when I was born. I'm not the type to believe that I hit a triple when I was born on third base. However, I do believe that I have also worked hard.

The lucky part - I'm six four, 240 pounds, have an IQ significantly above that of the average college graduate, have a naturally upbeat personality, and am decent looking. Also my parents are wealthy, and I never was significantly deprived of material things when growing up. The hard work part - I'm industrious, work out regularly including getting a black belt in Brazilian jujitsu, and make a point of treating everyone with respect, especially females.

I'm also very independent and think for myself; I'm a true non-conformist. I don't know whether that falls into either the gene or hard work category.

Even though out of High School I was offered several Division I football scholarships (including from the defending NCAA champion) as a tight end I went to a Division III school in the eastern U. S. with one of the best academic reputations in the country (regardless of athletic division) where sports scholarships are forbidden. I had carefully consulted with the head coach ahead of time and made it clear that I would play football as long as I didn't have to participate in spring practice and if there was anything that even smelled of a conflict with academics that academics would take precedent. He readily agreed because Division III schools rarely get Division I talent and their passing offense was perfectly suited for my abilities.

I had a normal college experience for two and 1/2 years, although it was a little higher profile than average not only because of my place on the football team (and Division III All-American honors) but because of the unusual arrangement that I had with the head coach. I didn't have any really bad nights since I didn't drink alcohol (and still don't). I had an average number of sexual experiences, a few romantic relationships that lasted a few months each none of which ended acrimoniously, and universally good experiences in the classroom.

After a very successful football season concluded my junior year our head coach got his dream job with a Division I school and left. The new head coach who was hired, from outside the school, didn't like the arrangement that I had with the previous head coach. He assumed that he could play hardball with me because there was no way that I would quit the team in view of the success that the team, and me personally, had had. He was wrong.

A lot of people got pissed at me when I quit the team. The way that the coach, some administrators at the school, some teammates, and I handled my quitting (I don't want to relive it by telling the details) made the national press. That included an appearance that I made on the Today Show.

Ultimately, I didn't give a flying fuck - like I said, I'm independent; but the entire thing ended up in a lawsuit. Thankfully I was just a witness and not a party.

Now to the relevant part of my tale.

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During new student week at the start of my senior year a junior transfer student from UCLA caused a major stir. Her name was Brittany Swift. She was five foot ten with killer thighs, a spectacularly beautiful face, natural strawberry blond hair, a naturally sexy voice, a sultry look, and massive natural boobs. She also had a friendly, upbeat personality, and was the type of person who was nice to everyone, including students not befriended by many people. She was a Kate Upton clone before anyone knew who Kate Upton was.

Every guy - including most of the male professors and administrators - on campus wanted to date her.

Every woman on campus wanted to be her.

The first time that I saw her I thought that a movie star or supermodel was visiting campus, including because she looked too sophisticated to be a college student. Her appearance and demeanor took my breath away. I never even considered the possibility that she would ever be romantically interested in me, and our majors were different so we didn't come into contact very much. Therefore I was completely shocked when about a month into the first semester that she was on campus, as I was just getting ready to leave a booth in the Student Union to go back to my off-campus apartment since classes were done for the day, she sat down across from me.

"Hi, I'm Brittany; mind if we chat a bit Kevin? I've been on campus almost a month and you've never approached me and I was getting tired of waiting."

It was like a sultry tropical breeze had just blown into the otherwise dank surroundings.

I couldn't even talk for a few seconds. "You know my name, Brittany?" was my clearly insipid response.

"Sure. Isn't the ex-All American football player, Today Show luminary, and lawsuit star witness Kevin Hardy the most famous person on campus?" she chortled, followed by a smile like the Mona Lisa's.

I took a breath, composed myself, and then finally got my brain working. "Maybe - until you arrived in town anyway," I replied with my own chortle and enigmatic smile.

"Touché," she laughed.

"What brought you to our cold climate from sunny SoCal?"

"I wanted to meet you," she nonchalantly replied without cracking a smile.

"No, why, really?"

"Is that impossible to believe?"

I never lacked candor, so I responded "Actually, yes. There is no reason for a walking wet-dream to move three quarters of the way across the country for some minor local celebrity. Someone with your looks could tear up Hollywood - there's no reason to waste your time with a basically ordinary Joe like me."

"You're not ordinary, but I am disappointed that you're shallow enough to judge me just on my looks, Mr. Minor Local Celebrity."

"Well, I don't really know you so how you look is what I have to go one. Although I will admit that anyone who I've been around who has mentioned you - and that's essentially everyone I've talked to on campus in the last month," I said with a grin; that got a chuckle from her. "Everyone who's met you says that you're as charming, pleasant, and fun as you are beautiful and they can't all be wrong."

"You should find out for yourself. Why don't you pick me up Friday night at 7:00 p. m. and take me to the town's community theater showing of The Glass Menagerie. I have two tickets so you just need to buy me coffee and dessert afterwards. Here's my address," she said, sliding a piece of paper over to me.

I was stunned. With a smile I replied "You're pretty self-confident, aren't you?"

"Maybe," she laughed. She didn't really giggle - she was too sophisticated for that. "Or maybe I just know that you're a sucker for Tennessee Williams and would never pass up a freebie."

"How in the fuck did she know that?" I asked myself, probably while staring at her slack-jawed.

I never really said "yes" before she got up and took off, her consummate ass hypnotizing every set of eyes in the Student Union as she sashayed away.

Of course I never gave any serious consideration to not going. I believe more in "don't look a gift horse in the mouth" than "beware of Greeks bearing gifts."

Brittany was ready when I arrived three minutes early - it would have been fifteen minutes I was so excited, but I sat in the car for twelve minutes drumming the steering wheel. Consistent with what I had heard about her, she cheerily introduced me to her very, very plain apartment mates and gave them each a hug before we left.

We had a stimulating conversation on the way to the play, a very pleasant time there once I got enough self-control to concentrate on the play and not look at her boobs or thighs, and an even more stimulating conversation in a local café afterwards.

There was a major drawback. Everywhere we went people were staring at us - actually probably just her, or wondering why a supermodel was with a dumb jock. She didn't even seem to notice, probably because she was used to it. I sure did.

She was fun to be with, and everything that I had heard about how charming she was seemed to be verified in spades.

By the time that I took her home, about midnight, I felt that I had known her a long time. As I stopped the car in front of her apartment building the question that I had asked her when we first met, and that I had been afraid to ask again, popped into my so-called brain.

"Why did you really transfer here from UCLA?"

"I already answered that question; in time you'll believe my answer," was her quick reply, and after only a short pause that was followed by: "So when are you picking me up tomorrow?"

"Uh,...I didn't know that we had plans..." I stuttered.

"Of course we do. I treated you tonight, you'll treat me tomorrow. How does noon sound? We can even go to the football game if you're not afraid of being booed out of the stadium," she chuckled.

"Uh, OK - noon it is," I smiled. Since this was my best first date ever how could I object?

"Let's say goodnight here instead of at my door," she said. "I don't want my roommates to get jealous."

With that she put her hand on my neck and pulled my face toward her's and gave me the most passionate kiss I've ever had. By the time that she broke away my cock was trying to burst my zipper. She glanced down at my tented pants and matter-of-factly said "I'll take care of that next weekend."

Then she smiled, exited my car, and walked up to her apartment without even a glance back.

I spontaneously came in my pants. I had never been in the company of a real life goddess before, so my spontaneous ejaculation was a first for me.

We did go to the football game. The fans were too busy gawking at Brittany to boo me - plus many considered me a hero in view of what happened in the court case. Then we rode bikes along the river, had dinner at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and rode our bikes back home. We parted with another soul-searching kiss.

I thought that I was in love after that first weekend. After the next weekend I knew that I was.

Strongly encouraged by Brittany, we went to a frat party that she had been invited to the next Friday night (she was always invited to every party on campus). Brittany looked even more fabulous than usual. She made a very strange statement on the way over, however.

"Just so you know, Kevin, I'm your woman tonight. I don't expect you to let anyone get gross or fresh with me. That sometimes happens at parties, but I expect you to prevent it. Is that too much to ask?"

The question was asked while she stroked my thigh and bored a hole through my head with her sparkling azure eyes.

"Hell no; definitely not too much to ask," I quickly retorted.

We had a good time dancing at the party, and talking to guys who had dates, as well as their dates. As more people started to get drunk, however, things started to get a little out of hand. I wasn't drinking at all, and Brittany just had a couple of glasses of cheap wine. At a lull in the music I excused myself from the area we were standing at and went to the head.

When I returned from the head Brittany was a good thirty feet away from where I had left her. There were two guys sniffing around her. I knew the jerks - Jack, an ex-defensive tackle, and Bret, an ex-linebacker. They had been kicked off the football team during the festivities surrounding the lawsuit the previous spring (which I still decline to tell you about). Both had animosity toward me, in addition to prurient interest in Brittany.

As I approached Brittany saw me and said to the guys - in what I thought was a respectful manner - "Sorry, guys, my date is back," and then she started walking toward me. Jack grabbed her arm and said "Not so fast, bitch."

I never hit someone so hard in my life. If I had hit Jack in the jaw he would have been sipping out of a straw for months. Instead, I hit him in his side, and later found out that I cracked three of his ribs when I knocked him flat.

Bret, fueled by alcohol, said "Fuck you, Hardy - she was prick teasing us," as he pushed me on the chest. Using one of my favorite jujitsu moves I pinned one of his hands to my chest with both my hands, and then dropped to a knee and leaned forward, snapping his wrist.

Fortunately, both guys were not members of the fraternity, and in fact hadn't even been invited, so no one seemed pissed that I had disabled them. Actually, one girl, who was herself plastered, kicked them both in the nuts as they rolled around in pain on the beer-soaked floor, as she yelled "That's for harassing me, asshole," with each kick before she was finally pulled away by a couple of the frat brothers.

Brittany snuggled up to me, grabbed one of my biceps with both hands, and said "Thanks, Kevin. Although you reacted just the way that I expected based on your profile, I really appreciate it."

"What the fuck?" ran through my mind, "What profile?" I probably would have said something to her, but before I could she kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear "Let's go to your apartment - NOW!"

With that she pulled me toward the door; I was amazed at how strong she was. Infinitely more amazing was what she did just before we exited the car at my apartment building. She shoved an STD-free test report dated a few days earlier into my face. "No condoms tonight," she barked as she pointed out the long list of "Negatives" next to everything from herpes, to syphilis to chlamydia. At the time it never crossed my mind to ask "Why do you have an STD test results document?"

Fortunately I had no roommates, because she had me almost naked within ten seconds of when the door closed shut.

Once we both were naked another somewhat strange statement came out of her mouth. "God, I hope that you're a great fuck," she mumbled between passionate kisses as she simultaneously stroked my rock hard cock.

Her bare boobs were otherworldly. "Suck these puppies," she growled at one point when she held one of her enormous tits with puffy nipples and stuck it in my face. I didn't need to be told twice. As she played with my balls I feverishly sucked those monsters with her constant encouragement, "Oh fuck, yeah, that feels good."

When I was afraid I was going to bust a nut due to her ball-handling abilities, I pushed her down onto the couch in my living area, then went after her pussy. It was hairless except for a landing strip, with thick labia and a prominent distended clit. She was soaking wet. I was pleased when she quickly orgasmed in response to my tongue and finger work on her honey pot and clit. Once she did she grabbed me by the hair, lifted up my head and snarled "Fuck me, you bastard!"

She lined up my cock with her snatch, then wrapped those killer thighs around me and drew me in. It was like heaven; her vagina was unbelievably snug for someone five ten, and had optimal heat and wetness. Plus, she could squeeze and release my cock with her pc muscles.

With her arms around my neck and me on my knees we fucked zealously. I couldn't hold out for long - and fortunately that didn't minimize her enjoyment, because she orgasmed a second time shortly after I deposited a monster load in her pussy. We were so energetic that we both had sweat like pigs.

Once we recovered from our animal fuck we retired to my bed. We made love, fucked again, and made love once more, before we dragged our asses out of bed at ten o'clock the next morning.

Sex with Brittany was other-worldly. Comparing her to other women that I had had sex with would be like comparing Lebron James to a High School kid. My brain was awash with so many endorphins that I was in a stupor until Monday morning. When I picked her up at her apartment and we went out for breakfast before classes on Monday my feet were barely touching the ground I was so exultant.

Just after she seductively put a fork-full of a bacon-mushroom omelet into my mouth at breakfast she said "You need to hear my Plan, Kevin. We need all Saturday afternoon to discuss it. I'll fuck you senseless Friday night and Saturday morning, but I need your undivided attention all Saturday afternoon. Understand?" The question was asked as she teased me with another forkful of omelet.

"Yes, Goddess Aphrodite," I snickered, causing her to stick the omelet on my nose instead of my mouth, as she erupted with peals of laughter.

I do believe that the sex that Friday was even better than the first time. I can't really be sure, however, because I was rendered comatose for a significant part of the time after she almost ripped my dick off fucking me reverse cowgirl. Anyway, my bizarre encounter with the walking wet-dream that called herself Brittany Swift got even stranger Saturday afternoon.

We strolled along a park path Saturday until we got to a secluded bench in the autumn afternoon sunlight. I put my windbreaker over her shoulders because she was just dressed in a sundress and even in the sunshine it was a little cool.

"Kevin, I hope that by now you realize that the reason that I transferred here was to meet you. If not, you're really dense and we need to call it quits. Get it?"

"Uh,...sure, Brittany," I said to placate her, but not really believing it.

"OK; first, here's the private detective's report vetting you," she said as she pulled what appeared to be a fifty page document in a bright blue binder out of a small valise that she was carrying. "Look it over, and let me know if anything is manifestly incorrect."

"You're kidding," I instinctively said as I took the binder from her hands.

"Look at it first and then tell me if I'm kidding," she said with a straight face.

She wasn't kidding. For the next half hour or so I read about my and my family's lives, although 90% was about me not the rest of my family. It was in such detail that it even had a copy of my college transcript, the names of the Division I schools that had given me scholarship offers, my black belt certification, and interviews with ex-girlfriends. There was even an estimate of my parent's wealth, although I had no way of knowing if it was correct because they never discussed finances with me. In particularly great detail was the entire scenario surrounding my quitting football and the ensuing lawsuit including a reference to a website that had a video of my complete deposition testimony, and also a video of my appearance on the Today Show.

"Where did you get this?" I asked about halfway through the document after I noticed that the name and address of the PI firm on the front of the folder had been redacted.

"Not important," was her flippant reply.

"Who paid for it?"

"My guardian."

When finished I simply said "WOW!" as I handed it back to her.

"You can keep it," she retorted, "I have another copy. So, is there anything major that is wrong?"

"Nothing major," I mumbled, still completely stunned. The endorphins still in control of my brain after the last night's fuck fest made it hard to know exactly how to react.

"OK; now, Kevin, let me reveal my Plan to you. Obviously, you're in complete control and can nix the whole thing. If you do, after this semester I'll transfer back to UCLA and we'll never see each other again. If you do go along with the Plan, I'll make you the most contented man in history."

The "Plan" set forth when we would get married - two months after I graduated - what city we would live in, and that Brittany would work for a company called Besson Realty until she turned twenty nine. We would try to start a family the night of her twenty ninth birthday. If it all worked out we'd have three kids, and she would be a stay-at-home Mom although she would be involved in charity work. We would belong to a certain country club, we would travel to designated places around the country and the world taking two ten day vacations each year, and we would make every effort to establish college funds for our kids before they turned eighteen.