He was determined they should marry in the proper way – two virgins ready to sacrifice their purity on the altar of their matrimonial bed. She felt otherwise, but her charms and persuasions barely dented the barrier of his beliefs. In fact, there was only one time that she even came close. It had been a typical date night, ending with a heavy session in Jeff's car. As usual, he kissed and felt up her body to a peak of sexual tension, only to break it abruptly and drive her to the dorm.
This particular evening, however, she had the room to herself. Her roommate had gone home to visit the folks, and Melissa took advantage of it to persuade Jeff to sneak up.
Once in the room their love-play took on a new light. Up until now they were always forced to make out furtively. Always in his car, or a friend's house. Always the danger of discovery.
But suddenly they were truly alone. Free to touch openly. Free to be naked. Under Melissa's subtle guidance they were both shed of their clothes in minutes, spiraling up to a height of passion they had never before shared.
Jeff stared, almost in disbelief, at the perfection of Melissa's body. His hands moved with a mind of their own as they tore at her tits, kneading them, pulling them, his lips moving down to bite at the erect nipples. His tongue swirled around the tiny nubs, flicking, darting until his lips closed in, trying to suck the very life from her beautiful tits.
Now his other hand traveled over her entire body. His fingers played over her warm flesh, memorizing every square inch, until they finally came to rest in the juice-soaked patch of her fiery cunt.
And Melissa was by no means idle. She was staring, for the first time, at his naked cock, the object of so many fantasies and dreams. She grasped it appreciatively, squeezing it, thrilling at its massive width and hardness.
She then began running her fingers up and down its length, tracing the lines of its large, blood-engorged veins, and finally wrapping her hand around its flared and pulsing head. Her hand now stroked the fleshy shaft, her thumb dragging across the very tip as Jeff's fingers rammed harder and harder into her tight pussy.
The sweat poured from their bodies as their manipulations continued on and on, their groans filling the tightly academic surroundings with new life.
At last Jeff was over the brink. No longer in control, he swung his hips into position between her spread-eagled thighs. Melissa's heart soared as she prepared herself for the pain of his entry, but it was not to come.
Almost the second his prick touched the virgin sanctity of her begging cunt, it withered. "An act of God", he called it. She just cried.
Melissa's only satisfaction during the year and a half they were at school was writing, and finger-fucking. Whereas writing had been an alternative to sex in high school, it now became a substitute. She would fill page upon page of her journals with her sexual fantasies, shocking herself with her own frankness and imagination.
It was to her great relief that Jeff finally announced their engagement. He had graduated, and was going to take his internship in Omaha. They were to be married as soon as he settled at the hospital. Melissa could see an end at last to her sexual longings.
But her engagement awakened new frustrations. Her marriage meant quitting school, but this did not bother her. What did bother her was his insistence on a full-time wife. According to him, she was to tend house and raise children, not indulge herself in some career that would drain both time and energy from their marriage.
Finally, she got him to compromise. He was making next to nothing as an intern, and she convinced him it would be necessary for her to take a job if they were to meet expenses. It was in this atmosphere that she went job-hunting. With her marriage four months away, she decided to use the time to sort out her feelings and see where her commitments were.
To her surprise she needed only one day.
She took it as an omen when she got an interview with the first newspaper she tried. Portfolio in hand, she wound her way through the maze of halls and shuffling people, knocking on wrong doors until she found Lester Balinger's office.
Her nervousness and excitement carried her almost unconsciously through the first half of the interview. It was not until he was reading through her portfolio that she calmed down enough to notice the man sitting across the desk from her.
He did not look at all like she had imagined. First of all, he could not have been more than three years older than she was. He had a rugged, chiseled face that appeared even tanner under the careless shock of his blond hair.
Then there was his manner – curt, businesslike, with all the self-assurance authority brings. But most of all, there were those liquid blue eyes planted deep in the shadows of his strong brow.
Those eyes. She could not stop looking at those eyes, even when they lifted.
"It's not polite to stare."
"Am I?" she said, hoping he had not caught the thoughts behind the stare as easily.
"Yes, you are."
"I'm sorry. It's just… well… Oh, it's silly."
"Go ahead. What is it."
"Well… I had no idea what you looked like, but I didn't expect you to look like… you." She blushed as she realized the silliness of the statement.
She was relieved when a large smile broke over his face. "Let me clear something up for you. I'm not Lester Balinger. I'm his son Tom. I'm handling things for few weeks while Dad is on vacation."
Melissa acknowledged her error, and a strangeness filled her as she watched him return to his reading. She began scanning the room, more in an effort to sort out her feelings and avoid staring than to really see anything.
What was this feeling? She was willing to admit that some of it was the excitement of possibly writing and earning money for it. It was something she had wanted for a long time.
But there was also another kind of excitement that was beginning to fill her, and he was responsible. Even though he was nothing more than formal toward her, there was an innate sexuality that seemed to speak to her, confusing her with its intensity. Her mind had difficulty wrestling with these feelings, and she was almost grateful when he spoke again.
"You're a very good writer."
"Thank you," she said, his approval bringing a stronger wave of excitement.
"I especially liked this one piece in here, but I don't know why you didn't finish it." He handed her the sheet of paper.
Melissa could only answer his stare with a questioning look. What was he talking about? They were all finished pieces as far as she was concerned.
Suddenly her heart stopped beating. The blood drained from her face when she realized what she was looking at. One of the pages from her sexual journal had somehow gotten mixed in with her other work, and he had read it.
She quickly looked up, her mouth moving mutely, her mind trying to find some way to explain this paper to him. Any explanation, but the real one – the chaotic ramblings of a frustrated virgin. It would not come.
In an instant the tears of humiliation began to flow. Unable to speak, she grabbed her portfolio and raced to the door, desperate to escape his amused stare.
"Wait!"
He only said it once, but her body obeyed. He walked to her position at the partially open door, and gently closed it.
"I'm sorry. If I'd known you were going to be so sensitive about it, I wouldn't have joked like that. Do you think you can finish the interview?"
For a few seconds she just stood there limply, her face buried in her chest, trying to find the ability to speak. Even now, in the midst of her humiliation, she could still feel that power, that strangeness building, making her unable to answer.
"Look, obviously you're too upset to go on. I'll tell you what. Since it's all my fault anyway, why don't you let me make it up by taking you out to dinner tonight. We can finish the interview then. Okay?"