She's Not My Type

This story contains a science fiction element. If that's not your thing, you've been warned; but don't give me shit about it being in the LW category, because that's where it belongs!

*****

I was one of those rare high school jocks who felt that schooling was more important than sports. Even though I was All-State in baseball, pitching and playing first base, I was more interested in the academics of the college that I went to than its sports program. While I did consider excellent academic Division I schools such as Northwestern, Duke, and Stanford, what I really wanted was to be a top-notch electrical engineer. As anyone who studies anything about engineering schools knows, Caltech is, overall, the most challenging engineering school in the country, if not the world.

Not content to just submit an application to Caltech, I requested a personal interview, including with the athletic director. I brought the athletic director a tape showing me pitching a no-hitter in high school. In that same game I hit a home run and two doubles. He was impressed. He was also skeptical.

"Why would an All-State jock like you want to come to a Division III school like Caltech? You do know that we've lost 315 baseball games in a row, don't you; and that we don't have athletic scholarships?"

"I really want to go to Caltech. I want to be a top-notch engineer. I like baseball, but it isn't my life, and I have no delusions that I could make it in the majors. If you put in a few good words for me to the admissions director, I guarantee that you'll break your 315 game losing streak," I said with a big smile.

My grades and board scores were just barely good enough to get into Caltech; but it was probably in the interest of "class diversity," since I was also most likely an inch taller and ten pounds heavier than anyone else in the school, that they admitted me.

My initial classes were almost overwhelming, but I was surprised at how willing some of my classmates were to help me. They had heard that I was going to be the star of the baseball team, and I'm sure that the jocks in their high school never paid any attention to them, so the novelty of having a jock for a friend obviously intrigued them enough to help me to make sure that I stayed in school.

I didn't disappoint either the athletic director, or the nerdy classmates who helped me, in my first baseball game. I pitched a three-hitter; the other team got two runs, but they were unearned, resulting from a comedy of errors by both the shortstop and the second baseman. Normally giving up two runs would be enough to make sure that Caltech lost the game, but since I hit three doubles, drove in two guys who happened to walk, and then stole third and home in the last inning, we won 3-2, breaking the longest losing streak in NCAA baseball history.

When I didn't pitch I played first base. We hadn't even entered league play yet, however, when the other teams figured out that they shouldn't pitch to me since I was hitting .450 with a slugging percentage of .900 while the next best hitter on our team was hitting .185 with a slugging percentage of .270. Once the other teams figured that out, I was intentionally walked every time that I came to the plate.

We won only two more games during the regular season my freshman year, games that I pitched and I was able to shut the other team out (including a no-hitter) and we were somehow able to scratch out a run or two. Then came the conference tournament. Since we were in last place obviously we were paired against the best team in the league the first game. The coach had me miss a game in the rotation so that I would be fresh against them.

I pitched a two hitter, and miraculously we made only one error. In the bottom half of the last inning, for whatever reason, with a man on first and two outs they decided to pitch to me. I hit a triple and we won 1-0. The fact that we lost the next game in the tournament, the last game of the year, 12-0 was meaningless after our triumph against the league leaders.

That's way too much background for my story, but I just wanted to give some context. It was because of baseball at Caltech that I developed my taste in women.

*****************

As you can imagine, Caltech did not have an overabundance of good-looking women. Some of the teams in our league did, however. The day of the game that I happened to pitch a no-hitter the girls' softball team from one of the other schools in our league attended the last part of the game when they heard that I was carrying a no-hitter with only two innings to go. After the game, the female coach of that softball team, with several of her cute team members lurking in the background with big smiles on their faces, came up to me and congratulated me on my feat.

"Hi Brian, my name is Linda. Your performance got all the girls on my softball team excited," she said as she shook my hand. Linda looked to be in her mid-30s, probably 5 feet 10 inches tall, 160 pounds, long blonde hair, big tits, muscular thighs, a round ass, and a decent face.

It was something about the way her hand felt when she shook mine that told me that this was not going to be an average coach-player encounter. "What position did you play in college?" I asked just to start a conversation.

A fifteen minute chat ensued with each of us, at one time or another, touching the other person on the arm or shoulder. It concluded with Linda telling me "If you need a summer job, even if just part-time, I run a softball and baseball clinic for both boys and girls just fifteen miles from here and would be happy to have you as one of the instructors. Here's my card."

"I definitely will be contacting you," I replied with a big grin on my face.

With the placement's office help, that summer I got an engineering internship in the same town that Linda's clinic was in. I worked at the clinic Wednesdays and Fridays after work, and most of the day on Saturday. The first Saturday I worked at the clinic Linda asked if I'd like to go to get something to eat afterward. Being a horny 19-year-old, I hoped that it would be more than just food that I would be getting my tongue and lips on. It turned out better than I could have expected.

After we ate oysters at a local seafood bar, Linda and I took a walk around the local park. After about half an hour she got to the point.

"I'm not one for subtlety, Brian; you probably have already figured that out from the way that I coached the boys and girls during the clinic," she said with a smile, holding my hand.

"Yeah, I figured that out right away," I responded.

"I would love a friends-with-benefits relationship with you. Do you have any problems being with a 34-year-old when you're only 19?" she asked with an even bigger smile, "especially since all the girls on my softball team were interested in you?"

"Let's go to your apartment and find out," I boldly proclaimed, hoping that my mouth wasn't writing a check that my body couldn't cash. While I had lost my virginity when I was eighteen, in actuality the totality of my sex experience at the time was getting three blow jobs, eating three pussies, and fucking four times; I was hardly an "expert."

I needn't have worried. Linda made things easy. She turned out to be an adventurous passionate woman who simply loved to fuck. She was completely comfortable nude, wasn't overly demanding, and despite her "take charge" demeanor on the baseball and softball diamonds, was willing to let me take the lead.

While, as I indicated, her face was just ordinary, there was nothing ordinary about her tits and pussy; she had to be a double D, and despite carrying 160 pounds she had a six pack. Also, despite her size she had a surprisingly tight cunt, had only a landing strip on an otherwise shaved crotch, and what seemed to be an almost inch long clitoris.

Our first encounter I ate her to a mile-high orgasm, bringing that long clit into my mouth several times in addition to tonguing the shit out of it.

I was so excited that before she came down from the oral orgasm I had proudly given her I shoved my rock hard cock up her pussy. I was too excited, however, and came quickly, long before she could have another orgasm. When I withdrew, I apologized for my premature ejaculation. Her surprising response: "It makes me feel good that I could get you that excited. We'll have plenty of opportunities to practice not just tonight but in the weeks to come. We'll be completely simpatico before you know it."

Linda was right. Our second fuck that night, the first time that I had ever done doggie, I did it right, and she had a beautiful orgasm at approximately the same time that I did. When we fucked standing up in the shower the next morning it was the best sex of my life; up until that point, that is. By the end of the summer, after Linda and I had been fucking an average of more than once a day for the entire time, we had had dozens of sexual encounters better than that first shower fuck.

After my summer with Linda, women who looked like her became my "type;" big, buxom, blonde, and passionate. Linda and I could only get together infrequently during the school year, but I did find a 20-year-old, named Jennifer, going to the local community college, who was almost exactly her size. Jennifer was not quite in as good a shape as Linda, but with a prettier face and a libido that was just as agreeable.

After the school year Linda got a job as a coach in Oregon. Aside from a three-day weekend where we actually broke the bed in the resort that we stayed in, that was the last that I saw of Linda, although I would always have the memories.

That summer, between my sophomore and junior years at Caltech, I broke it off with Jennifer to take a job as a summer intern at a big engineering firm in my home city. By then, however, I had a lot of confidence in my sexual prowess, and a woman that during the time that I was growing up I never had any sexual thoughts about suddenly intrigued me. Her name was Stacy, and she was one of my Mom's married friends. She was forty, about five feet eleven inches tall, maybe 170 pounds, with D or DD tits. Her face was not the best in the world, but it turned out that her cunt was. Not only was it sweet smelling - something that was quite unusual - but it had craggy lips and a clitoris even longer than Linda's. The way that Stacy carried herself exuded sexuality.

It didn't take long to get into Stacy's pants; she was an ultimate provocative bitch-in-heat. The first Saturday I was back in town I showed up at an event where she was doing volunteer work, and offered to help her. She enthusiastically accepted. After I "inadvertently" touched or ran into her a dozen or so times before the end of the day she knew what was up. I blatantly told her that I would love to take a dip in her pool when her husband was out of town. Her husband, Jim, was the CEO of a Fortune 2000 company, and traveled quite a bit. They were about the richest people in our town, and had a mansion with a twenty five meter Infinity swimming pool fed by a waterfall at one end, and an elevated hot tub near the other.

It was only two days later that I got a call on my cell phone. "Hi Brian, this is Stacy. How would you like to come for a dip in my pool after work on Wednesday?"

"Wow; that would be so much fun Stacy. I'll bring my swimming suit with me to work Wednesday," I replied.

"No need to bother. Our pool is isolated, and it's more fun to go skinny dipping," she replied with a lilt in her voice.

"Skinny dipping it is then; is 5:30 okay?" I responded, trying to hide my excitement.

"See you then stud," she laughed as she hung up.

Stacy was even more direct than Linda was. Wednesday she answered the door with only a skimpy see-through bathrobe and high heels on. With her four-inch heels she was only an inch shorter than I was. We went right to the pool, I disrobed sporting an enormous hard on, we waded into the pool where the water was almost five feet deep, and I unceremoniously porked her right there.

Stacy went absolutely wild. I know that she scratched my back like a tiger, planted numerous kisses on me while biting my lip, and pulsed her vaginal muscles. Her PC muscles were like a god damn milking machine, and despite her screams and going limp when I started ejaculating into her, her pussy sucked every last milliliter of sperm out of me.

Before I left for work the next morning, wearing the same clothes that I had the day before, I had fucked the bitch-in-heat five times. That was an all-time record for me at that point in my life.

In case you haven't already figured it out, Stacy simply loved to fuck. The woman was insatiable. Since her husband Jim is ten years older than she is, traveled a lot on business, and Stacy was rich enough for us to go away on weekends, we had plenty of opportunities for sex. I had the time of my life. I often wonder, however, looking back if that might not have been a precursor to my eventual problem; that I wore myself out, if there is such a thing. We fucked an average of two times a day, despite her being married and despite the fact that I worked forty hours a week, the entire summer. In addition I got numerous blow jobs, and I gave her literally dozens of oral orgasms over the summer. We never were together when my dick, and seminal fluid, did not end up in one of her orifices or the other, including at least a half a dozen times in her ass.

Stacy and I never got tired of each other despite our age difference. She was fun to be with and I enjoyed her personality almost as much as her pussy. "Almost (ha, ha)," being the operative word. In fact I enjoyed being with her so much that the summer between my junior and senior years we had a repeat of the summer between my sophomore and junior years.

I actually graduated from Caltech with a degree in electrical engineering. Fortunately they didn't keep track of class rank because I would have been in the bottom three or four. However a degree from Caltech means a lot, and I was able to get a job at a national research laboratory right out of college. It was nowhere near where Stacy lived so after I graduated college I only hooked up with her for four three-day weekends before I met the first women that I truly fell in love with. Once I met Virginia, I cut it off with Stacy and didn't date anyone else.

******************

Virginia was definitely my "type;" she is a better looking version of Linda, and my age. We hit it off the first day that we met at an outdoor adventure club outing about eighteen months after I graduated from Caltech. Virginia worked in sales at a software company, and could sell ice to an Eskimo. She also could suck the chrome off of the trailer hitch. We got married only eight months after we met.

Life was fantastic the first six years that Virginia and I were married. Not only were we eminently compatible, in both sexual and non-sexual intercourse, but my work life was going great guns too. I had become one of only four project directors at work, and had come up with a number of original research concepts that matured into commercial products.

About the time that I turned thirty, two things happened that started fucking up my life big time. I don't think that there was a direct correlation between the two, but I never found out for sure whether there was some deep-seated mental neurosis that tied the two together.

I started having problems in the bedroom. I believe that the colloquial term for my condition is "interrupted ejaculation." I don't remember the scientific term. What it meant was that, even though I could get hard, sexual intercourse with Virginia did not always result in me ejaculating. This wasn't just a problem for me because Virginia typically only had penile organisms when I ejaculated into her. At first it was only one time out of ten; but by the time that I turned thirty two, it was forty nine times out of fifty. It strained my relationship with Virginia a great deal.

While Virginia seemed understanding, and was appreciative that I was seeking any type of medical help that I could get, it was impossible for her to hide her disappointment. It got to the point where, sensing her frustration, I told her, and she knew that I was serious, that if she needed to get some on the side that I understood. "As long as you're discreet, and I don't know about it, do what you need to do to satisfy yourself. I'm much more concerned about your happiness and our true love than the concept of monogamy," I said with a tear in my eye.

Her response was "You're the most wonderful man the world, and I love you so much," as she stroked the side of my face and a tear formed in her eye too. Her response did not include "Oh that's ridiculous, I'd never do that."

The second difficulty that arose in my life at approximately the same time that my "interrupted ejaculation" problem started was the appearance of a new project director at work, hired from an outside organization when her predecessor was fired. Her name was Gail, and she looked unlike any other engineer that I had ever seen in my life. Although almost any heterosexual male would call her beautiful and/or sexy, her appearance was actually much more multifaceted. She was, for lack of better words, "alluring" and "sultry." For some reason I always felt uncomfortable around her; weird sensations pulsed through my body when I looked at her.

Since Gail had a Masters' degree in electrical engineering from MIT, she obviously was no dummy. In fact she was usually the smartest person in the room and didn't mind letting everyone else know that. Countering her very desirable qualities, she was often haughty and abrasive. On the few projects that her team and my team interfaced, as well as during project directors' meetings, we often butted heads. She always had a mysterious gleam in her eye when we did argue, however, that really disturbed me in another deep-seated way.

I found it very odd that I had a physical attraction to Gail since she was exactly NOT my "type." Every woman that I had had sex with since I was a freshman in college was big, buxom, and blond. Gail is petite, almost flat-chested, and a brunette. However she does have a world-class ass and thighs, and simply by flicking her head to toss the hair out of her eyes, she could make the average guy salivate.

My lust-dislike relationship with Gail, plus my problems in the bedroom with Virginia, left me in a constant state of the angst by the time of a fateful May day after Gail and I had been working at the same research facility about two years.

The only employee that Gail and I shared was a really, really weird dude by the name of Austin. Austin had graduated from Caltech as the valedictorian about three years before I graduated, but because he had absolutely no interpersonal skills whatsoever, he never became a project director. That was not his thing anyway; he was only interested in pure research. He was the only person in our organization that Gail knew was smarter than she was, although from his reports or conversations with him you could never tell that; maybe because his mind was simply working on a different plane than everyone else's.

Over the last several weeks Gail and I had been giving Austin shit because he wasn't turning in daily reports on his activities, like he was supposed to. Our bitching had no effect on him. In frustration, one Thursday Gail and I met with him together and told him that he simply has to tell us what he was working on. His response was "Show up tomorrow with a knapsack containing a reflective blanket, a couple of changes of clothes, and some energy bars, and I'll demonstrate."

Gail started reading him the riot act. I calmed her down and told Austin "Okay dude, we will; but it better be good."

"It will be," he cackled.