Shelley shrieked happily as I ate my dessert. After her first orgasm, I pulled back and looked up at her. “I bet you’ll be thinking about this at dinner tonight!” I then ate her out some more. Afterwards, I stood up, dropped my trousers, and fucked her right there on the table. Thank God it was sturdy!
By mid-afternoon, we were both running out of steam. I taught Shelley about the cowgirl position (save a horse, ride a cowboy!) and then we decided we needed to clean things up. She let me shower first, so I didn’t smell like a whorehouse on Sunday morning, and then she took another shower. The comforter went into the washing machine, and the windows were opened to air out the house. We even went down to the basement and smoked about half a carton through the filter before one of her parents came home. It had been a productive day, in more ways than one.
That night and Saturday we had turkey and leftovers at the Buckman house. This wasn’t a bad deal, since I can eat turkey, oyster dressing, and gravy until it runs out. If you’re not from Maryland, you won’t know what oyster dressing is, but it’s great! Sunday I was dining over at Shelley’s. I don’t know whether they were suspicious of me, or of her, but I got the third degree that night. Politely, of course, and I just smiled and answered their questions. I will say that at one point during dinner I complimented them on their lovely dining room set, and Shelley almost died of a coughing spell. We also smoked another half carton of Camels. I figured we could smoke the last of the cartons this week, and either do the tar extraction late in the week or early next week.
The tar extraction was fairly simple. First we would weigh the filter assembly accurately over at Towson State. Then, back at Towsontown Junior High, we would open the filter, extract the cotton, and dunk it in a flask of acetone. Acetone has a very low boiling point. We would let the cotton soak overnight, and then filter off the acetone the next day. Washing the filter material with some more acetone would clean it up, and then we would carefully heat the mix in a fume hood, allowing the acetone to vaporize, leaving behind the tar. This would be collected in a pre-weighed test tube, and then be given to Professor Milhaus. Then it was back to work for us, collecting another sample for show-and-tell during the Science Fair.
In all honesty, it was very difficult to stay on track with the schedule from this point on. While we didn’t have any more all day sex marathons like Black Friday, Shelley was very agreeable to screwing down in the basement. We could usually manage to sneak in one or two very enjoyable sessions after smoking some Camels, and the cigarette smell covered up any sex smell.
I definitely learned that Shelley’s previous lovers hadn’t taught her anything other than blowjobs and plain missionary position. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that, and thankfully, for her sake, Shelley was easily aroused and highly orgasmic, so she certainly enjoyed herself. However, that was so limiting, and once Shelley learned there were more possibilities, she was extremely enthusiastic about learning them all. Now, I won’t claim that I taught her the entire Kama Sutra, but we sure got well through the Beginner and Intermediate sections! It turned out that she really liked the control she had when she was on top, so we often did some sixty-nine, or she would climb on my lap and bounce on my cock. I really couldn’t complain.
In December I took Shelley as my date to the Christmas dance at school. Yes, it was my first formal date since I got recycled, but no, it’s not much of a date when your parents drive you. We couldn’t get all that hot and bothered, but Shelley definitely liked being taken to the dance, and not meeting me there. I was still growing, so I was now a couple of inches taller than her, and she could wear a pair of heels and not be taller than me. She was very hot!
For Christmas, I bought Shelley a charm bracelet with a couple of charms, one with a heart, and the other with a cigarette. The first got me a very passionate kiss, the second a very long laugh. A charm bracelet seemed a nice compromise present — not too expensive, not too personal, and something she could wear after we broke up.
By February I was beginning to suspect this would happen in the near future. Aside from the Science Fair and our mutual love of screwing our brains out, we had about zilch in common. I mean, for Christmas I got a copy of Gibbons’ The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (both the first time around and now) and she got a subscription to Teen magazine. Forget about intellectual discussions. Shelley was not precisely sure of the name of the President; she did, however, know volumes about the breakup of The Monkees and the effect this would have on western civilization. We did manage to stage several all day sex-athons over the Christmas holidays that left me gasping for relief. Every time I started thinking we weren’t all that great together, and that maybe I should start breaking up with her, she would use her body to convince me otherwise. What can I say? I am a guy. I am not a hero. I have no known moral fiber.
The breakup pretty much occurred the night of the Science Fair itself. That was a pretty fair success. It went about as I had expected it to, and I mentioned it to Shelley. Mike Misner had done the fertilized chick project, with a few dozen fertilized eggs, and cracking one open every day for three weeks and dropping the contents into a formaldehyde filled jar. He had the sealed jars on display, along with a box full of baby chicks. Since chicken eggs hatch in 21 days, he had started 22 days ago and so he had 1 day old chicks. He had about zero science involved, but you could hear the heart strings being tugged all the way across the gym everything was set up in. People love baby chicks.
Our project was science, pure and simple, but we did have just enough sizzle to sell the steak. Dad had gotten a 2’ by 4’ Formica countertop for me, and I had gone over to Mr. Bonner’s across the street. Working for Black & Decker, he could buy any of their tools at wholesale price. Dad always got mowers and power tools from him, and Mr. Bonner actually had a garage full of drill presses and saw tables. I used the drill press to put holes in the countertop and mounted everything on it, including our freshly cleaned and painted pump, filter assemblies in use and disassembled, and even one I had managed to cut in half. The print shop that I got my business cards through had a nice deal on some professional looking displays for behind us, and we borrowed a tiny booth from them.
The science part was impeccable. We had a sign showing that our adviser was a chemistry professor over at Towson State, top-notch lab workbooks showing our work, and an analysis of the tar we collected, along with estimates showing the efficiency of our collection method.
What really impressed the judges was when Professor Milhaus showed up with a couple of college students, just as the judges came through. I introduced the professor to the judges, and then the professor introduced his students. One was a college student and the other a grad student, and they had used the sample I had provided for their own work. The grad student analyzed the sample as part of his thesis, while the undergrad used his work to design an upper-class experiment for the organic chemistry classes. Then the professor blew us all away. He asked if I would contribute my work to the project and be part of a paper to be written for the Journal of Chemical Education. Holy shit! Of course I would!
One of the important parts of being a college professor is publishing scholarly works. As the saying goes, ‘publish or perish.’ Most of the work done at a research college is actually done by various students, but for every one of their publications, more than one person can be listed as an author. In almost all cases, the head of the lab will get his name on the paper, whether he had anything to do with it or not. It’s sort of a game, and everybody knows the rules. The undergrad student would write his paper, and the grad student and the professor would get their names on it. The grad student would write a paper, and the professor’s name would show up as well. And then the professor would write his own paper. Three publications for the work of one.