My Wife The Elegant Slut Pt 02

I have to admit now that I always viewed Olivia as a sex object. Sure, it didn't hurt that she was smart and giggled at my jokes. She was class president and valedictorian in high school, and was a math major at her fancy women's college. But I wouldn't have pursued her for all those years if that's all she had. It was her head-turning beauty that propelled my obsessive pursuit of her. I could tell that her preppy buttoned-up exterior was hiding a deeply sensual woman. At least that's what I imagined.

The first clue was that time I saw her at an evening event with her dark-skinned, essentially black, boyfriend. I had only seen her wearing her conservative school uniform or her field hockey kilt during the day. Now, in the evening, she was presenting a different image to the world standing in a dress and high heels and daring to be with a boy most white girls would be afraid to date. She didn't talk to him and didn't even appear interested in him. She gave me the impression that she knew all the guys were looking at her and was telling us, "Look at me. I don't care what you think. I'm the best student in this school and now you know I'm the sexiest too."

Then there were the juicy rumors. I heard stories of her getting wild at parties. The word was she got naked in a bathtub with a boy who wasn't her boyfriend, gave another a blowjob in a car, and had one-night stands with a couple of others. I knew the source of the stories wasn't reliable, and he even claimed he had fucked her, which was a complete lie, but the stories excited me. I pictured her naked in the bathtub while a boy fondled her wet tits (her tits were a perfect size C in those days). I imagined her sucking me off. I fantasized about her deeply kissing and fucking me. Masturbating as I fantasized about her became a frequent pastime. Despite the obvious lack of veracity of these tales, they served to enormously fuel my fledgling desire to have her for myself.

I was a year older, still a virgin, and went off to college. I needed a strategy to stay in touch with her so I opted to befriend her. I would go back home and seek her out at parties thrown by mutual friends. I looked for any opportunity to be somewhere where she'd also be. I couldn't muster up the courage to ask her out because she was by now dating 29-year-old Jewish furrier. The daunting age difference between them gave me less confidence that she would consider a boy only a year older than she.

I was securely in her friend-zone at this time. We'd go out for drinks when I was home and I'd make her laugh. Between those rare occasions when I'd see her, I peppered her with letters full of humor and outrageous stories that I spent hours writing. These letters were hand written, of course, and she once commented that she found my penmanship "sensuous." I never let on that I was in love with her. By the time I let her know I was interested, in a letter I wrote to her, she was in college and wrote me that she was already in a new relationship with a Vietnamese pre-med student at the very prestigious college near hers'.

"You should have let me know you wanted to date me before," she wrote, "I had been without a boyfriend for a few months but now I'm dating someone else."

I was so mad at myself. I realized she was saying that had I asked her out and had she not been seeing someone at the moment, she would have accepted. My head was spinning with a rush of thoughts that I couldn't stop. "Damn! Why did I wait so long? I'm sure she fucked the furrier, and dumped him when she got to college when she realized there were more dicks of every shape and size and ethnicity to sample there!" All I could think about was her fucking away and feeling like I had lost my chance to be her first. The thought of her with other guys made me sick. I managed to convince myself that she never fucked the furrier because she would save herself until after high school, but now I was sure she was getting drilled by some Asian doctor-wannabe.

"That should have been me!" I thought. "Why couldn't she be single for once? Why did she always have to be in a relationship? I wasn't! Doesn't she know we fought those people in the Vietnam War!" Picturing her in bed with that gook made me disgusted and angry. Was it too late to prevent my beloved Olivia from getting defiled before I could do it? I had to try. My pursuit of her was now more urgent than ever. Time was of the essence.

All I had to do was figure out how to take her from that Vietnamese, needle-dicked pre-med asshole.

To Be Continued...