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A Family Affair: 4th And Goal
I just couldn’t help myself with this story, so it ended up as a novella.
Once again, I wrote about what I know. I have a scientific formation with an emphasis on physics and mechanical engineering. I’ve always been fascinated by the conquest of space. I plead guilty to being a trekkie and a long time SciFi reader.
I took an inordinate amount of time doing research for this story. I got carried away by reading on the current state of the research on plasma engines. I took the liberty of concluding that the vacuum trials due to occur in 2016 on the International Space Station were successful. Wishful thinking? I hope it was only an astute prediction.
Thanks again Valphund for the great editing. Any mistakes are mine.
Everyone on the cheerleader squad knew about the strange woman who sat in the highest bench of the bleachers at nearly every practise.
She didn’t look like she belonged. With her dirty biker boots, well-worn cheap jeans, old khaki leather belt so scratched by use, it could have belonged to her grandfather, seamless grey tank top, she had the air of a gang member instead of a MIT student.
Since there was always a bunch of young men in the lower benches to have a closer look at them, they weren’t worried.
She never spoke to anyone. She just sat there, hiding behind mirrored Ray-Bans, hardly moving at all.
When practise was over, she walked down and disappeared.
No one had seen her around College. It didn’t mean much. MIT covered a lot of ground with its five schools and multiple attendant buildings. Maybe she worked in maintenance.
Over time, stories and rumors circulated, the products of over-active imaginations and flighty minds.
One day, a security officer was at her usual spot when she arrived. They sat together quietly, watching the women work through their routines. Occasionally, they’d exchange a few words, grinning at some comment or other. At one point, the woman reached in her back pocket and pulled out a large old-school wallet linked to her belt by a chain and showed the man something. They kept admiring the cheerleaders. They left together and the officer was seen touching the bill of his cap in salute as they separated. Despite repeated entreaties, he refused to say who she was.
Then, she wasn’t there anymore.
Most were relieved for some obscure reasons they couldn’t formulate clearly.
One was saddened. She had hesitated too long.
Professor Tremaine loved to sit in the bleachers, weather permitting, and watch the cheerleaders practise. It reminded her of the days when she was part of the squad herself.
At five six, she was at the cut-off height requirement. Her lack of large breasts had counted against her too. She only got a spot because of her athletic abilities. Her acrobatics got the attention of judges at cheerleading competitions, though it was the tall busty blonde women who raised the crowds during the football games.
She had made peace with her mousy looks and actually liked her body. It was a good thing too, because her chronic shyness at the time meant she masturbated alone more often than she had sex with a partner.
Despite that, she had fond memories of her stint in the MIT football cheerleading squad. Being the only student in Economics on it, she became somewhat of a minor celebrity among her geek friends.
Her roommate worked all day Saturday at a nearby restaurant, so she had the room to herself. She could sleep as late as she wanted, walk around in the buff, masturbate freely without fear that she would be overheard, sit at her desk naked to study, clean her side of the room (unlike her slob of a roommate, she liked a tidy environment), practise her cheers in front of the mirror to see what it would look to spectators if she dared go commando as some did.
Elizabeth was a closet slut. Saturday was her day to fantasize, to act out some of those fantasies in the privacy of her room. She had a secret stash of sex toys in a locked box she kept hidden deep in her closet.
On one of those days of freedom, she was sitting at her desk, occasionally squirming to accentuate the effect of the butt plug she was wearing, an open text book before her to appease the small voice of reason reminding her of a paper due in three days. She was tweaking her nipple with one hand and diddling her clit with the other when there was a loud knock on her door.
After jumping and looking around quickly for any incriminating evidence of her guilty pleasures, she put her bathrobe on and opened the door, knowing full-well who was there. Only Amanda knocked as if she meant to go through the door.
“What is it? I’m working right now.” She grumbled. She liked Amanda, but her classmate could be obnoxious. Oh, not in a bad way. She simply had little notion of boundaries.
“I know. I am too. How are you coming along on canlı bahis the macroeconomics paper? I’m stuck. I can’t make heads or tail of the reference text they gave us. I mean, the integration of inflation… Hey, you’re naked. So this researcher states that…”
Elizabeth stopped listening as she pulled the robe closed, blushing furiously. Not only was she shy, she was still at the self-conscious stage. Enrolling in the cheer leading squad had been a desperation attempt to overcome this.
She tried to push Amanda out, but she wouldn’t go, saying she was desperate and that Elizabeth simply must help her because her parents would be devastated if she flunked out of school after they had scrimped and saved to send her there.
Amanda was a bit of a motor-mouth.
Sighing deeply, Elizabeth sat on her chair to wait her out. She moaned involuntarily when the butt plug was pushed back in.
Instantly, Amanda was at her side, inquiring if she was okay, going on about her own ills after spending long hours at her desk.
Trying to come up with a way to send her friend away without hurting her feelings, Elizabeth failed to notice that her robe had opened again. It was Amanda who brought it to her attention.
“Nice boobs you have, Lizzy. You’re so lucky you don’t have to wear a bra.” Taking her top off, she unsnapped her bra, exposing her massive mammaries. “Take these babies. If I don’t wear a bra all the time, they’ll be down to my knees before I’m thirty. My mom has big tits too. She says it runs in the family. You should see my aunt Bertha. Girl, talk about big melons. Last year, she had a pound removed from each because of back ache and she’s still bigger than I am. What?”
“Can you put your bra back on, please?”
“Why? Do I make you uncomfortable? It’s only us girls here.” She barely finished speaking before leaning in to kiss Elizabeth, startling her.
“”You shouldn’t have done that, Amanda. Now please leave. I need to study.” Elizabeth said somewhat firmly.
She thought she understood the expression ‘like a deer caught in the headlights’ when Amanda took her hands and held them against her breasts as she kissed her again. Her head swam at the feeling of her friend’s tongue licking her lips, running its tip between them. Reflexively, she opened her mouth. She didn’t expect the explosion of sensations as their tongues met.
Instinctively, she spread her legs as she moved to the edge of her chair. She didn’t care that she was displaying her close-trimmed pussy to another woman in the intimacy of her room, or that the movement caused her bathrobe belt to slip.
Elizabeth nearly swooned when she felt Amanda’s large breasts press against hers. She didn’t resist when the robe was pushed off her shoulders, nor when she was pulled up and told to undo the woman’s slacks.
She followed her to the bed where they lay side by side, kissing greedily, hands roaming, discovering each other’s body.
Amanda was everything that Elizabeth wasn’t. The obvious difference of their breast sizes was reflected everywhere else. The woman was inches taller, stones heavier. She reminded the young woman of most of the adult women she had known all her life. Thickset, solid, strong, vigorous, confident, fearless even.
The woman who deflowered her had been one such matron she used to babysit for.
On her eighteen birthday, she was working instead of going out and celebrating, so the woman had brought out two beers when they returned home and her drunk husband stumbled to bed.
They sat and talked about what it would mean for Elizabeth now that she was an adult. She had such a pleasant time that, by the time she finished her fourth beer, she was sitting on the woman’s lap, giggling as she was asked to play the little girl. They had fun cuddling together. She didn’t see anything wrong when the woman began to undress her so she could give her a bath, nor when she was asked to suckle her big breasts. She didn’t remember the woman undressing.
She actually enjoyed it when she was gently guided down so she could kiss her intimate parts. She followed instructions as she parted the thick bush and licked the woman to climax. It was a lesson in her own genitalia, sex ed classes having been banned in her state ages before. She discovered that she had a bundle of nerves all packed in a little button called a clit. She had her first orgasm at the older woman’s talented tongue as she knelt over her mouth.
The young woman returned home the next morning, no longer a virgin, neither vaginally or anally, and a confirmed lesbian. Every sense of shame at her lifelong secret attraction to women dispelled during the long night of shared pleasure. Nothing that felt this good could be bad, no matter what the preacher said. His wife had dispelled that myth unequivocally.
Unfortunately, she was so shy that she could never act on those feelings. It took another strong woman to bring her out of her shell.
It gave bahis siteleri Elizabeth goosebumps when Amanda took charge of their lovemaking. She cooed when her mouth was pulled to the hard nipples. She whined when the woman reached, found the rubber implement and pleasured her anus with it, her cries of ecstasy muffled by the soft breasts. She cried tears of joy when she was spanked to a devastating orgasm.
Her lover grinned when she pulled her up, asking where her stash was. Pulling out the biggest toy, she told Elizabeth that these were for amateurs. Still, she ordered her to get on her hands and knees and proceeded to ravish her with it and the butt plug both.
She wasn’t allowed to recover fully before the woman expertly licked her until she fell asleep from exhaustion.
In the following hours, Elizabeth’s sexual education was taken to another level as she fisted Amanda while sucking her clit as hard as she could and pumping her largest dildo in her ass. She couldn’t believe the amount of punishment the woman called pleasure.
The ultimate lesson was subtle. By the time they fell asleep in each other’s arms, Elizabeth had come to realize and accept willingly that she was a sexual submissive who reveled in being dominated.
She was lucky being discovered by a gentle mistress who never mistreated her more than she was willing to accept, respecting their safe word.
Over the next four years, Elizabeth blossomed into a confident woman. She still had a measure of shyness, but learned to overcome it in most situations.
She tutored Amanda so she graduated with a respectable enough grade average that she could find a good job back home. As valedictorian of her class, Elizabeth was accepted at the London School of Economics on a full scholarship.
Her roommate’s last final was two days before theirs and she moved out as soon as she was done, so they spent their last time together saying their goodbyes in a most intimate manner.
The next eight years were scholarly very rewarding for Elizabeth. Personally, not so much.
After a disastrous experience with a dominating older woman who took pleasure in degrading her stable of sexual slaves without regard for their feelings, she pursued more conventional relationships which never lasted nor were very satisfying.
Macroeconomics PhD in hand, she landed a job in the Geneva office of the United Nations Economic and Social Council where she earned a solid international reputation.
Because of the requirements of her work, she was regularly absent from her home for long periods. She was also something of a workaholic. Consequently, she was still single six years later when she accepted the coveted post of Advisor to the President of the General Assembly in New York.
As was her wont, she threw herself at the job, again neglecting her personal life in favor of picking up this important professional gauntlet.
Almost immediately, she found herself in demand as a speaker at women’s organizations and universities. It touched a sensitive chord when she was invited to give a conference at her alma mater. After the event, she walked around her old haunts, remembering the years she had spent there fondly.
Back in New York, she found herself distracted, unable to give her job all the attention it deserved. Consequently, when the President left office, so did she.
This last move had been much easier than her first to Cambridge. The University had been so glad to have such a prestigious alumni offer her services as a teacher that it took care of selling her Park Avenue apartment and finding a luxury condo relatively close to the campus for her. It even had a company come in and pack everything.
Sitting on her comfortable couch, Elizabeth smiled as she reflected on her decision to leave the world of international politics only to find herself in the tamer arena of academia politicking. She chuckled, thinking of the cocktail the Dean had organized to introduce the new teachers to the faculty. At least everyone would speak English.
Using the remote, she changed the music to some light Celtic music. One of her lovers in London had introduced her to the genre. Years later, she had an impressive collection. She loved the light, airy, ethereal quality of the singers’ voices.
Sipping chilled white wine, she stood to look out her large window. She could see some of the university buildings from her vantage. There was no other high-rise building on that side, so no one would see her standing there wearing only a black silk thong. Too bad. She still loved to be naked in her own home. Of course, she didn’t have to worry about a roommate walking in on her. Hadn’t for years.
With a sigh, she turned and went to her office to work on the material she would begin teaching in a week. She laughed, thinking of her conversation with the Dean when he interviewed her, a formality, he had thought. It turned into a two hour discussion (another bahis şirketleri word for a polite heated argument) on the authors she was to use as references. She had strong opinions on a few. She had even personally discredited one in a very public way at an international conference. As was usually the case, her solid arguments won the day and the syllabus had been modified according to her views.
Most of the course was ready. She had met her assistant that morning, a bright young woman with a positive attitude who was impressed to be working for such an accomplished woman. Elizabeth had done her best to explain to her that she was simply another professor ready to start a new job, to no avail. She had to leave the ebullient woman with her illusions. She would learn soon enough that she shouldn’t put so much credence in a person’s reputation.
She too had been all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when she first started at the UN, in Geneva. She had been assigned to a famous man’s team. It didn’t take long for her to realize that most of his accomplishments were due to his taking credit for the hard work of the people working for him. He had broken more than one promising career when a young economist dared protest this practise.
As she surfed through the university’s web pages, she grinned when she saw pictures of the football team, the previous year’s champions in the New England Football Conference. She looked around and found the page for the cheerleading squad.
She realized that her hand had found its way in her panties when she touched her clit and a tremor went through her. The women she had showered with had been as beautiful as the ones she was looking at. She slipped two fingers in her wet vagina as she recalled the many occasions where two or more would make love in plain view of everyone else.
There was a tall blonde in particular who was quite the exhibitionist. She was one of those who was reprimanded multiple times for not wearing panties under her short skirt during games. Elizabeth could still picture her long hair flailing as one squad member stood in front of her, fondling and kissing her large breasts while another molded herself to her back, a hand between her legs, bringing her to a loud orgasm.
Closing her eyes, Elizabeth was back in that shower room, masturbating like many others as they watched the women have sex. Often, she had been tempted to join them, but she knew she wasn’t part of the cool crowd, so she took her pleasure vicariously.
Legs splayed, she pulled on her nipples harshly as she thrust two fingers within herself, slapping her clit hard with the heel of her hand. When she felt she was near the edge, she brought her hand down from her breast to rub her clit furiously as she curled the fingers assaulting her vagina to multiply the pleasure. With a last cruel pinch of her clit, she arched her back and climaxed gloriously.
Licking her fingers clean, she stumbled to her bedroom. Far from slacking her desire, that first orgasm had only fueled her passion. She needed more. Much more.
As expected, the cocktail was a boring affair. Most of the teachers were conservative thinkers who didn’t want to rock the boat. Those with tenure were the worst. They were content to wallow in the same drivel they had for ages. Elizabeth would bet that a new idea would cause collective apoplexy within the ranks of those worthy.
The Dean had specified business casual, so she wore a simple but tasteful skirt suit from her favorite London tailor. The long single breasted jacket with a shawl-style standard lapel complemented the straight medium length high crotch skirt and the Bally wool was suited to the season. She chose to wear classic black three inch heel Simple Pump Louboutin shoes. She had been tempted to wear her open toe Demi You pumps, but didn’t want to scandalize her new colleagues with her Blazing Red toenail polish.
Of course, everyone else had gone formal for the occasion. She almost laughed out loud when she arrived and was taken around by the dean. The only exception was a young professor who was teaching Macroeconomic modeling. She was wearing a light grey pant suit with flat black shoes. Being five ten, she didn’t need heels to meet men at their level. As soon as the dean finished the rounds, Elizabeth looked around for her.
The woman was standing alone in a corner, holding an untouched glass of wine.
“Are you feeling as out of place as I am?” She asked pleasantly.
“You should be in your element, Professor.”
Elizabeth liked her artless smile.
“Don’t let the professional demeanor fool you. It took years to perfect. At first, I felt as out of sorts as you do in this kind of gathering. Now, look at our esteemed colleagues. They feel important in their little corner of academia. Imagine being dumped in a reception for the Chancellor of Germany on your first week on the job. I was surrounded by people truly important, decision makers of the highest level and their entourages. I wanted to melt in the background. After a few of those horrifying experiences, I realized that they were men and women like all the others, with their human qualities and faults.”
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