As I reflect on that magical summer of 1978, I can only say, "Thank you Dr. DeHoff." He contributed to making me the person that I am today. Now you may immediately conclude that Dr. DeHoff was my Comparative Literature or Philosophies instructor; some maven of economics at University, or perhaps some kindly physician who encouraged me to pursue a medical career leading to fabulous wealth and notoriety. To the contrary, while he was a physician, his career was of little note served in a non-descript neighborhood in a large city. However, Dr. DeHoff was a world class jerk and for that I am eternally grateful. As a result of his self-centered, egotistical, and just plain "dumbass-ness" I learned much about life. My vocabulary was increased to include the correct use of various parts of the feminine anatomy, sexual congress, and emotions far beyond those he held. His callous nature and ignorance of the meaning of passion allowed me to first taste, enjoy, and finally become a connoisseur of the female body and psyche.
My name is John Cross. During the 1977/1978 school year I roomed with his son Paul. Paul was an apple that had fallen close to the tree and was one who reveled in using the system, women, men, and life. In many ways, we were perfect suite mates. I had a full ride and for financial reasons needed to keep it. He was on academic probation from his fraternity and had to live in the dorm though he could still hang out with the guys. When I was in class, he was recovering from the previous night's activities and while I was working, he was out scouting for yet another source for the evening's adventure. Though not opposites in every way, we were in many ways. He was as brash as I was timid and I quickly learned not to mention being in the presence of some pleasant lass. When I did remark about Bess or Alice or Carol, he would quickly mock me for my reluctance to screw her and move on to the next conquest.
I first met Dr. DeHoff during parent's weekend. He and his wife Karen were polar opposites and Mrs. DeHoff and I found ourselves spending enjoyable time with my mother, a widow, living on a fixed income. Unlike her husband and son, Mrs. DeHoff, now requesting that I call her Karen, tacitly understood the financial straits that we found ourselves in and while her husband and son opted to attend a function at his fraternity, she was content to join us at a small café where I had obtained work and received a discount. During the course of the meal Karen asked my mother if she would mind if I worked for them during the summer at their beachside cottage. With relief, I accepted and Karen shared that I should not say anything to her son or husband as she would ensure that it would be their idea that I would work for them. She explained that she typically would spend the entire summer at the cottage but that her husband and son would return to the city to work and do whatever they wanted. She explained that she was content to spend as little time with the two of them as possible and she looked forward to a most enjoyable summer of meaningful conversation, time on the beach, and a periodic adventures of our own. To earn my keep, I would perform those tasks her husband either refused or only reluctantly agreed to perform, and would help her to maintain her sanity. Little did I reaDianee the meaning of the phrase "...perform those tasks her husband either refused or only reluctantly agreed to perform." As we parted, she gave my mother a hug and as she was doing the same to me, whispered, "This will be a summer you will never forget." Truer words were never spoken so again I say, "Thank you Dr. DeHoff."
The school year flew by without one word of our arrangement. In truth, I was beginning to question if I did have a summer job. Upon returning from holiday, Paul condescendingly said that he was going to make me his special project this summer and that like it or not, he was going to ensure that I was finally laid. Though expressionless, I listened as he explained that they had this beach cottage and that his family typically would spend the summer there. In exchange for doing things he was not really sure of, I would have a quiet place where I could read, write, sun, and attempt to get laid. He shared that he and his father typically would work in the city during the week, travel to the cottage on Friday, and return on Sunday. He promised that he would do his best to get me laid. He had every confidence that even I could get laid over the course of the summer. He shared that the down side would be that I would have to listen to his mother, also geeky friends, and the occasional virginal and unapproachable maiden daughter. Assuring me that he would try to leave some stray pussy on the beach for me, he headed out to recount his many adventures during holiday.
A call from Karen affirmed the date of our travel to their cottage. She shared that she was really looking forward to the summer. She reminded me that I would have plenty of time to read and write and that the "work" was somewhat a sham, but, she doubted her husband would notice or care. The faithful day arrived. With Paul and his dad endlessly engaged in sophomoric conversation, I found myself in the backseat with Karen. She was impeccably dressed in a pair of shorts and had a blouse tied in a fashion to hold her breasts. Her appearance revealed a body that was well maintained, with toned muscles, and a mischievous smile that verbalized nothing and communicated everything.
Their cottage was airy, had a great view of the beach and had a Master and two smaller bedrooms. After helping Karen with some kitchen items, I quickly unpacked and joined the others on the porch to watch the waves, walkers and sunning bodies. Our first evening found us dining at a nearby seafood restaurant where we might as well have been seated at two tables. Karen and I conversed while Paul and his dad commented on the waitress, diners, and women walking by on the beach. When asked by Karen if I found the waitress attractive, I timidly shared that I felt the breasts of the waitress screamed excess and, due to their artificial appearance, doubted that she would even know if you touched them. We both smiled as our eyes involuntarily met at Karen's well shaped but diminutive breasts. I was having visions of tactile as Paul and his dad were openly discussing tactics of meeting two young women at the bar.
As the meal concluded, Paul and his dad said that they were not ready to return to the cottage and wanted to have a few more drinks. Karen cited the exertions of the day and asked if I would be willing to walk her back to the cottage. The look of delight on Paul's face was apparent little knowing that I too had an inner glow. As we parted, Paul looked at me and shared that I was never going to get laid unless I got out amongst them and that being "Joe Sensitive" was not the way.
As we went our separate ways, Karen asked if I would mind walking back to the cottage using the beach route. Initially walking apart, we slowly began to walk hand in hand stopping to see the odd shell or debris washed on the beach. A driftwood log drew us as a magnet. The coolness of the evening caused her to move closer to me. I placed my arms around her and tentatively placed a kiss upon her exposed neck. With a sigh, she asked, "Do you really find smaller breasts attractive?" She smiled when I responded, "I will let you know if and when I see and feel them." Turning away for a moment, she removed her bra and partially unbuttoned her blouse. In a youthful voice she said, "Karen DeHoff, ready for inspection."
I had not even dared dream of this moment and now it was here. Noting my hesitation, she placed my hands first on top of the blouse. Removing the final buttons, she gave me full access to her breasts. I do not know what I expected. Her breasts did have slight sag, but they felt wonderful. Thankfully the moon allowed us to be somewhat hidden but when she turned to me, I was greeted by her smile and fully exposed breasts. She reminded me to take my time as we had the entire summer. Guiding my hands and lips, I learned about enjoying a woman's breasts and of the many ways that one can create an ebb and flow of stimulation and joy. After a bit, she buttoned her blouse and we resumed our walk. Upon returning to the cottage, she gave me a kiss, I briefly enjoyed her breasts, and, turning to enter my room, she reached into the front of her shorts, inserted her fingers into her being, and placed her nectar upon my lips. She said, "I do enjoy working with a patient student, Lesson two tomorrow." I thought to myself, "Thank you Dr. DeHoff."
After reliving every moment of our time together, I finally fell asleep. The next morning found Paul and his dad in rare form. They had decided to go sailing and were not at all disappointed when both Karen and I declined their day long sail. With almost a smirk, Paul suggested that they had met a couple of "people" that may be willing to sail today so if we were going to take a pass, he would call them. Feigning a lack of energy and/or willingness to consciously destroy her skin, Karen and I bid them farewell. Pulling me aside, Paul gave me the telephone number of, a girl named Andrea, one of his bimbos that he assured me "Would be a sure thing". I almost laughed when he suggested that I needed to run, not walk away from his mother as with her around there would be few opportunities to get laid. Proclaiming that Andrea was not bright but fucked like a minx, he joined his dad. Walking back into the cottage, Karen noticed that the bag of sunscreen she had carefully packed was still there but the two bottles of tequila bought for margaritas were not.
After reading the paper and finishing a pot of coffee she suggested that we hit the beach before it was to hot. Seeing my look of disappointment, she said that school would be in session this afternoon and that there would be plenty of remedial instruction if I felt that I needed it. With a laugh I can hear today she said, "Oh come on, grab your suit and we can dress together in the master bedroom." Using hormone filled logic, to dress implied to undress which implied potential bliss.
Literally seeing Karen in a new light, she closed the drapes overlooking the beach but left sheer curtains protecting our actions from being observed by those walking on the beach but allowing the room to be filled with sunlight. Laughingly proclaiming that my penis was evidence of my eagerness to resume our lessons, she shared again that I would have to wait for lesson two but she would give us permission to review lesson one. Now nude, I took her in my arms and, following her instructions, secured sounds of pleasure and the emanation of an aroma that I quickly associated with a woman aroused. Taking my hand and moving it toward her labia, she slipped both of our fingers into her core. Our lips and tongues dueled over the prize that the fingers had captured as she allowed my fingers to inflame her far beyond our experience of the evening before. In a sigh, she said, "You do make me feel wanted." Little did she know, I wanted her more than she could ever know but also knew that she would soon show me the passage leading to consistently pleasuring women young and mature alike.
If possible, she was even sexier with her bathing suit on than nude. Yes, I had seen the bare canvass but her suit provided an allure that I could not in my youth explain. Mindful of potentially prying eyes, we made our way with our beach paraphernalia. Properly coated with lotion, we settled into our books and mindless banter. Though the cover partially hid us from observation, it was impossible not to be on display. Our most intimate exchanges were limited to blushes appearing on her face as she found me watching the rise and fall of her breasts and her amusement at my inability to hide my erection. We waded in the water and to my delight, and her dismay, a wave caught her. Soaking her bathing suit revealed the opaque nature of the suit and affirmed that she was one attractive and sexy woman.
