Your therapist said you’d never get over your crippling fear of humiliation if you didn’t make the effort. Today was going to be a major step for you. You prepared for weeks to ask me out, the pretty girl you’d been fantasizing about for months. Even though the types of guys you saw me with around campus were so different than you, so Alpha, so muscular, so sure of themselves, perhaps you had a chance.
There were moments you cherished: When I’d returned the hello you practiced over and over again in your dorm room, I flashed you a bright smile, tossing my dark, silky hair over my shoulder as I passed. When I stooped to hand you the pen you purposely dropped near my chair in the lecture hall, giving you a view of my round, firm ass straining against the denim of my tight jeans, I made your little cock throb for the rest of the day. It wasn’t completely inconceivable, was it? I looked so friendly and beautiful. And simply wishing you could visit on me all the fevered groping you’d been dreaming of all this time was turning you into a masturbation addict. Something had to give. How bad could it be? The worst I could say was no, right? You could handle that.
Every day I got out of Psychology class at the same time. I stood under the same tree with my friends, talking until my next class began. That would be your chance. Your hands were shaking so you stuffed them in your pockets as you walked toward us. I looked so beautiful, the spit dried up in your mouth. My powder blue, cropped sweater clung to every curve of my perfect breasts, and you could see my belly button ring glinting in the sun just above the waistband of my short little skirt. Even as you approached, you imagined my long, firm legs clad in opaque stockings wrapping around you as we made out on the couch after our date. The thought of it spurred you on.
Conversation died as you approached the group, and all eyes, including mine, turned to you. A part of your mind was sure you’d seen me briefly roll my eyes, and exchange a quick glance with one of my pretty friends, but that was just your nervousness playing tricks on you. You swallowed hard and wiped a sweaty palm down the side of your pants.
“Uh, I wondered . . . um . . . there’s this new movie opening up at the theater downtown, and I wondered if you’d like to go with me.”
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