Everything changed for me the night Professor Gilbert's wife came home early and found the two of us in the living room; both naked; him on the sofa and me in front of the sofa on my knees, sucking his cock. My 35 minute presentation of the fine art of cock sucking had just reached its conclusion. The combination of saliva and pre-cum I had smeared all over my face in the process of giving him everything from a rim job to deep throat had him in an animal frenzy. He gripped my hair with both hands as I stroked him to final climax and reaped the reward of a face and mouth full of hot cum. The beauty of that facial was lost on Mrs. Gilbert, who simple slammed the door so hard a pane of glass broke and yelled "ALBERT!" I jumped at the noise and lost my balance, so I fell backward onto her Berber carpet as the good professor tried to cover up. I froze as I started to get up because I now had the icy stare of his very enraged 50 year old wife.
I looked at her with the traditional deer-in-the-headlights look. This wasn't good. I was a student and this was definitely a violation of school policy. Since Mrs. Gilbert was from a wealthy family she had nothing to lose by picking up the phone and calling the dean of the college. It was pretty obvious to her that I was trying to make up for blowing an exam by blowing the instructor. As I scrambled to grab my clothes and make a very hasty exit I knew that I was going to bear the brunt of this episode. I wished then that I hadn't bought a car with the tuition money Dad sent and that I hadn't taken out a student loan for tuition. I wouldn't be graduating from this college, that's for sure.
By the following afternoon Professor Gilbert was scheduled for an unpaid leave at the end of the semester and I was expelled. The reason for my expulsion would be sent to my parents via a certified letter. The school's official position was that I had solicited a professor to raise my grade in exchange for oral sex. When he refused, I attempted to blackmail him and ruin his marriage. Of course it was total bullshit. It was further bullshit that they were sending the certified lie to my parents since I was 19 and I didn't live at home. I certainly wouldn't be living there after this.
I gave my roommate a hug goodbye, told her I'd write her and all the other lies you tell when you know you'll never see someone again. Then I loaded up my car, closed my bank account and left. I really had no clue where I was going but I knew it was NOT going to be home. I had no intention of listening to my father going off about what a slut I was or to hear lessons about propriety from a man who's been fucking his office assistants for 20 years. Instead I pointed the car south and headed for the Gulf of Mexico. If I was lucky and didn't spend much money I could make it to the ocean. Maybe I could get a job that didn't tie up my afternoons so I could spend some time on the beach. The more I thought about it the more excited I became. I was going to do what I wanted for a change, not what my parents decided was best for me.
It was getting late as I passed through Montgomery, Alabama so I decided to get a room for the night at a motel. I checked into room 126 and tucked my suitcase under the bed. There were traveler's checks totaling $450 hidden in the liner. I didn't want to carry cash and I wanted to keep it safe. This was to be my first real venture on my own and I was getting excited about the possibilities.
I decided to take a shower and get cleaned up a little. In this case that also involved dragging a razor over my most private area, which I had started to shave a few months earlier at the suggestion of a boyfriend who had lasted about three months. I like the feel, though, so I keep it baby smooth. When I had dried off I decided to check with the front desk and see if there were any teen clubs around. I knew I couldn't pass for 21 but I was never much of a drinker anyway. The desk clerk said there was a club up the road that would probably not card me so long as I didn't try to buy alcohol. They even had a live band tonight. That sounded just fine to me.
Just to feel sexier I decided to wear my jeans without panties. I loved the sight of them sliding over my hips and cinching closed over my bare flesh. I have a low cut grey top that I always liked. The way it's cut I can't really wear a bra with it but though it does a pretty good job of accenting my breasts it covers the important parts. After a little lipstick and a hint of blush I gave my appearance the once over with the bathroom mirror and decided that I looked pretty good. My red hair hung to mid back in loose curls. My freckles had mercifully mostly faded out. I stood all of about five foot three and barely broke 110 lbs so my breasts looked bigger than they really were. I still had a bit of a baby face but all in all I was pretty satisfied at the newly independent young lady looking back at me in the mirror.
The club was supposed to be just a couple of miles up the road. After about six miles I was about to turn around when I saw it ahead on the right; seemingly in the middle of nowhere. It looked kind of run down. There were an assortment of vehicles in the parking lot ranging from BMW's to pickups, and three Harley's in front parked in the handicapped spaces. A guy wearing black jeans and a vest that read "Demons MC" was standing in the parking lot talking to some guy in a pickup truck through the driver window. I figured he was either buying or selling dope. I would have gone right then but the music sounded good and it looked through the windows like everyone was having a good time. As I walked past the motorcycles and into the club, I was imagining what it would be like to ride one. They looked exciting... and dangerous.
I sat down at a table near the stage and watched the crowd for a few moments. Two guys who apparently belonged with the Harley's outside were also wearing vests and drinking beer, but certainly weren't hassling anyone. In fact, the only loud person in the club looked like he probably owned one of the BMW's. I drank a Diet Coke and danced with a couple of guys who really weren't my type but I was having fun. I was planning on getting an early start in the morning so I wasn't going to stay too long.
A very obviously drunk guy came up to me and asked me to dance just as one of my favorite songs was being played. I agreed, though he was certainly not my type. He kept trying to bump and grind on me but he was getting too close for comfort. I cut the dance short and went back to the table. He returned to the table and told me I owed him a dance. I told him that I didn't owe him shit, and if he didn't leave me alone I'd call the bouncers. As it turns out I didn't have to, because the two bikers came over and very politely asked him to leave me alone. He just looked at the men and walked away without another word.
They two men introduced themselves as "Skeeter" and "Danny Boy." They'd obviously been drinking but they weren't rude or belligerent. They were obviously members of the same club as the man outside, but the only motorcycle riders I had ever known did charity runs and held boring jobs. I had never met anyone who called themselves an outlaw biker. Frankly, I didn't know the difference.
Skeeter was tall and lean with blue eyes and a rugged smile that gave me the impression he spent most of his time enjoying the hell out of his life. Danny Boy was more stocky and soft spoken. He looked like he could be a hell raiser if he wanted too. The guy who was outside never did come into the club so I figured he had gone home. I was teasing myself with the idea of letting Skeeter spend the night with me at the motel, but of course I was nowhere near that bold. I never had a one night stand.
