Rebecca Butler: Freshman nymph

Becky's throat muscles tightened and she leaped off the bed. As she bent her head to stare at him in rage her neck veins stood out in ghastly prominence.

"You arrogant bastard," she hissed. "I knew I was doing all right in your fucking class. I knew I could get an A in it without much trouble. And I don't have to fuck for grades, either. I earn them. In class, not in bed! The only reason I came over here tonight was because I thought you were really a sexy guy and could lay a good time on me. But the only thing sexy about you is your cock! In your heart you're just a stupid fucking pig!" And she spun round, the wig falling off completely as she did, but Becky did not even bother to stoop and retrieve it. She stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Dave lay on the bed stunned, listening to her defiant footsteps as she tromped into the bathroom and closed the door hard.

He jumped off the bed to follow her. Perhaps he had misjudged her motives after all. Perhaps she had only come over because she wanted to fuck him. But what else should he have thought? Girl fucks teacher and girl gets grade. Wasn't it as simple as that.

And realization came to him. He was a stupid tucking pig, just like she had told him. A pig of the male chauvinist variety, he thought bitterly. This was the age of Aquarius, for God's sake! The times they are a-changin'. And part of the change was in the area of women's roles in society. No longer did women intend to let men do all the choosing, all the seducing. They were liberated today, and they insisted upon their right to use their bodies for their own purposes.

Good deal, Shearing, he told himself. You meet your first really liberated woman and what do you do? You fuck yourself in the ass. He raced out of the bedroom, into the living room, intending to plead for her forgiveness.

Becky was in the living room standing by the door. She had poured the remainder of his martini mix onto the couch where it lay wet and shining, and she was fully dressed once more.

"Please," he called to her, "I want to apologize."

"Go fuck yourself," she replied bitterly and she was gone.

"You've just been fucked. I can tell by the way your ass is swinging," teased Becky's roommate Marjie as the angry blonde freshman entered their dorm apartment.

"Shut up," Becky scowled, ripping at the buttons of her body shirt. She peeled it off and threw it onto her bed, then tossed her bra beside it. The pink points of her round tits were glaring as she kicked off her shoes and then stepped out of her hot pants. Clad only in her creamy skin, she lay down on her belly, plump ass presenting a delectable target as she pouted.

"What's wrong, Beck?" Marjie asked, sharing bet roomie's upset but ignorant of its cause.

"Nothing is wrong," Becky replied angrily. "Absolutely nothing." She rolled around and lay on her back, arms folded beneath her tits. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling above her but they saw nothing in particular.

Marjie had been studying but she set aside her books and came to Becky's side. She sat down on the sparse extent of bed remaining. The crinkly fabric of her nightie tickled Becky's flesh, making the blonde girl smile in spite of herself.

"Something has gotten stuck in your cute little ass," Marjie observed. "Would you feel better if you told me about it?"

Becky shook her head. She didn't want to talk, even to Marjie, with whom she felt she could share everything. Not this, though. Not now, anyway.

Marjie shrugged. Her hand nestled lightly on Becky's tummy, a finger touching the puckered hole of the blonde girl's navel. "If you want to tell me," she smiled, "just whistle. I'm in the next bed."

Becky was pissed, to say the least. This had to be the most humiliating experience of her life-except, perhaps, for the time when she had come up behind some of the guys in high school and heard them talking about a girl who was too tall, too skinny, to be any good for anything, and realized with horror that they meant her.

High school had been a depressing experience for the pretty blonde girl. She had been born and raised in a little town called Fayetteville, far upstate, and that had been strike number one against her.

The boys in Fayetteville liked girls who were short and cute and carried around big tits and chunky asses. Becky, who had reached her full height of five-seven in eighth grade, and who didn't carry a pound of excess flesh in all her body, didn't meet their standards of beauty. Consequently she spent a long lonely adolescence in the rural county seat, and it wasn't until she was a junior in high school that she found a boy who seemed willing to date her.

That was Ted. Not the smartest, not the handsomest boy in Fayetteville, but he saw something in Becky that no one else did, and they found enjoyment in one another's company. But the agonizing part of it was Ted's growing possessiveness. In their senior year he began talking with assurance about the prospects for their married life, and Becky knew that the only good thing she'd been able to find was starting to go bad.

She didn't want to marry Ted. Even though she knew that by Fayetteville's standards she was unattractive, she didn't intend to marry the first guy who asked her. She'd been accepted at State University, and the prospect of entering at last a cosmopolitan, sophisticated world thrilled her as Ted never could. Telling him was the only problem. Each time she tried to bring up the subject. he did or said something that made her feel like a heel for even thinking of breaking up with him. As her last Fayetteville summer dragged on to its end, and the day of departing for the University neared, she felt an increasing sense of desperation.

Saturday afternoon, the day before she was to leave for the campus town where she would spend her next four years gaining an education, Ted came by and took her for a ride in his car. She could remember it as well as if it were happening right now…

It was the last day of August and the trees were in the fullest bloom of summer. Becky sighed inwardly to think that before many more weeks had gone by, the leaves would be burnt brown and fallen to decay across the long winter. Even the thought that with spring the lovely shades of green would reappear did not console her.

Part of her malaise was due to another cause, it should be noted. On Sunday afternoon-tomorrow-right after church, she and her parents would load her clothes and other necessities into the family car and begin the long drive to State University. Monday morning, bright and early, she would enroll as a freshman. But this was only Saturday, and the big day was still ahead of her, and for the time being she was yet a part of her old life.

And the most important part of her old life was standing beside her right now, his hand clutching hers tightly, his chest pressed against her shoulder blades as they watched the sun dropping lower and lower across the hills to westward. This was their own private garden, they had decided long ago, and it belonged to them in a way that could never be matched by the person who happened by some chance or other to bold legal title to this property.

They stood on the edge of a lush patch of green woods, oak and hickory and walnut and maple trees, bounded by a fragrant, verdant meadow, bright and dancing with daisies and violets and forget-me-nots. Becky loved to come here with Ted and watch the lovely, unchangeable patterns of nature-the sunset and the singing, swooping birds and the mysterious patterns of the clouds overhead. Here they could talk and dream and love one another in pure silent communication. She knew she was going to miss it all when she left for college, but she knew there was no way of altering the fate she had chosen for herself.