Angies Impregnation
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SophomoreChapter 7: Welts On Angie's Ass free porn video
Once Shirley decided to bestow her love upon me she held nothing back. She was not only sexy; she was fun. She surrendered her body, shared her wit, gave herself completely and demanded that I reciprocate.
Our run, the hot shower and hotter sex sent us sliding into a restful slumber. We woke up grinning and we were still grinning at each other when we sat down for breakfast with the group.
"Which one was that?" I asked as we were leaving the cafeteria.
She leaned against me and I felt her breath touch my cheek. "That was my 'I can't wait until tonight' wink," she whispered before squeezing my hand and walking away. I felt something in my hand and looked down to find the key to her dorm room.
Most girls dressed casually. Khaki, knee length pants were popular, combined with sleeveless tops to take advantage of the meager air movement under the warm September sun.
Not Shirley, she wore the summer dresses Suzanne had chosen, soft cotton, printed patterns that flattered her figure.
I knew by the little jaunt in her step that she felt my eyes, storing the memory of long lithe legs and shapely ass to last me through her absence, but she didn't turn.
I was still thinking about Shirley in her summer dress when I entered Doctor Mercer's class. He lectured for the first fifteen minutes, illustrating the next accounting rule he wanted us to apply in an exercise that took about fifteen minutes to complete. Next, he would call upon unsuspecting students, asking questions totally unrelated to his lecture or the exercise that followed.
This was our third day of class and I hadn't been called upon yet. I could tell by the way his eyes rested on me before consulting his seating chart that my turn had come.
"Mr. Oldham?"
"Yes, Sir," I responded, suppressing an urge to stand at attention when I heard my name.
"Why are you taking this class?"
This was not the first time the question had been asked. Two freshmen had stuttered through incoherent answers on previous days, to the delight of our professor and other members of the class.
"It's required for a degree in business, Sir."
Doctor Mercer quickly moved from behind his podium, silencing the titter that pervaded the classroom, and stepped to within ten feet of me, exposing his youthful face and slight frame for the first time.
"Is your aspiration to obtain a degree in business the only reason you're enrolled in my course, Mr. Oldham?"
Heads of my fellow students turned to join Doctor Mercer, expectantly awaiting my impromptu answer.
"No, Sir. I expect to learn valuable accounting rules that will help me understand reports from my accountants."
Reading ahead was already paying off. Though I didn't understand everything I read I had learned that accounting was a set of rules to be applied to specific situations. As Donna had often advised, "Accounting is entering numbers in columns and transferring the totals to other columns. If you know the rules you can read a balance sheet. Concentrate on learning the rules."
"Your accountants? Do you anticipate having accountants in your employ? "
"Yes, Sir."
"See me after class, Mr. Oldham," the professor said, turning back to his podium.
"Yes, Sir," I said, thinking, 'Aw, Shit!'
As was his practice, Doctor Mercer handed out a short quiz that covered the rule of accounting he had covered earlier in his lecture. While we answered the three questions on the quiz he returned our homework from the previous day.
I was one of the first to complete the quiz and took it to the front of the room. He accepted other student's papers while telling me that he would like for me to expound on what I expected from 'my' accountants.
"They should be prepared..." I began and watched him hold up one hand as he accepted my classmates' completed quizzes.
"In writing, Mr. Oldham."
"Yes, Sir," I said, waiting briefly for him to expand on his request, mainly how many words he wanted but when he turned his attention to other students, thanking them with a smile as they added their quizzes to the stack on his desk, I left, thinking, 'Shit! He wants me to write a fucking paper.'
The girl who greeted me at the entrance to Mrs. Wetherspoon's office looked familiar.
"Hi, Sammy," she said.
"Laura?" I asked, and watched her smile. I hadn't seen Laura since Wanda and I had been invited to dinner with her and her brother as a thank-you for giving them a ride during a snowstorm. Laura and Duane Nagle were twins and as I recalled, suspected by Wanda to be sleeping together.
"Mrs. Weatherspoon had to go to a meeting but she said to give this to you," Laura said, handing me a sealed envelope with my name on the outside.
I don't know if I was feeling desperate or if it was the way Laura smiled when she handed me the envelope but I invited her to Kent's party on the spur of the moment.
"A friend is hosting a party on Saturday night. If you and Duane are free I would like you to come," I said, wondering if she was too tall for Skip.
Laura didn't hesitate to accept the offer. "Duane may have a date but I'm free," she answered, showing the same timid innocence in her smile that I remembered from the snowstorm when we had traveled the few miles with her sitting on her brother's lap.
I gave her Kent's address and left Mrs. Weatherspoon's office. It was common knowledge that all parties began at eight p.m. It was also common knowledge that only freshmen arrived on time.
Shoving the envelope in my book bag, I didn't get a chance to open it until I was waiting for Cheryl to join me for lunch. She couldn't meet me until twelve-thirty, but that was all right because I didn't have classes on Thursday afternoon. I opened the envelope before she arrived to discover it wasn't a list of scholarship students at all.
Sammy,
School policy dictates that I cannot divulge the names of students attending the college on scholarship but I've done the next best thing.
I met personally with six students who fit your criteria and told them that you would like to meet them at lunchtime tomorrow to talk about your breakfast group.
All six agreed to meet with you. I told them to look for a handsome chap with a scar in his left cheek but it will be advisable for you to place a sign on your table to make sure they find you.
I hope this is a satisfactory arrangement.
Best of luck,
Mrs. Weatherspoon
"We only need one female and three males," Cheryl said when she saw that six students had been invited to meet us.
"They may not all want to join the group after they hear our pitch. Besides, we don't know if they're men or women."
We jousted over the details until she finally relented, knowing, I'm sure, that I had Shirley's ear and she would defend my decision even if it was wrong.
Next, we talked about what we would tell them about our group. Cheryl was in favor of making it sound like an exclusive club and make sure they understood we only had four vacancies. I let her believe I was in agreement, thinking that I could always change my mind if all six candidates wanted to join us. After all, the purpose of the group was to offer activities for those stranded at school while everyone else was at home enjoying themselves.
We parted amenably and I hurried over to Shirley's dorm room and took advantage of the spacious work area until just after four p.m., when Shirley and Tammy arrived together. I thanked Tammy for allowing me to use the room.
"It's the least I can do for the man who is making my friend deliriously happy," she said.
Seeing Shirley blush made me want to tease her. "Deliriously happy, do I really do that?" I asked, trying to look innocent.
"That's how Jason makes me feel, deliriously happy," Tammy said dreamily, like she was recalling a special incident.
Shirley and I eased toward the door, saying goodbye before Tammy began reminiscing about her summer affair with Jason.
As usual, we were both anxious to relate our day to each other, but I let Shirley go first.
"Do you have some cash I can use for groceries, Honey? I'll pay you back on Saturday."
"Sure, but you know you don't have to pay me back," I pleaded. She didn't respond.
"Tammy and I'll do the shopping while you're working out. I just need a few things for the spaghetti and then you and I can go shopping Saturday morning, okay?"
"Okay," I said, not wanting to have the same conversation about her contributing to our living expenses.
"Did Mrs. Weatherspoon come through for you?" she asked.
I told her about the note I had received and the arrangements we had made to meet the six scholarship students for lunch the next day.
Shirley laughed when I told her about Cheryl's reluctance to even speak to all six students.
"She kept saying we only need three males and one female but she agreed to talk to all six because she knows we sleep together and you will side with me," I boasted.
Shirley looked aghast. "You think that just because I like the way you make me feel that I'll support anything you say?"
"Yes."
She leaned back in the car seat and closed her eyes. "Oh, Sammy, you've got me thinking crazy thoughts. The hyphen between our names is ancient history and now I'm thinking of ways to eliminate us having to use those awful condoms," she said, smiling, her eyes still closed.
"I got called out in accounting class today. I have to write a paper."
Shirley opened her eyes and listened to me tell her how it happened.
"He's new. I don't know him," she said about Doctor Mercer.
"He didn't say how many words he wanted or when the paper is due," I lamented.
"Two hundred and fifty words should be adequate and it needs to be turned in tomorrow. You put an outline together while I'm making dinner and we'll discuss it after we eat."
"It seems like we're always saying goodbye," I said as we clung to each other before parting; she, to go to the dress shop, I, to go upstairs to the apartment.
"Yes, but it's so exhilarating when we meet again," she said as she kissed me, turned and ran to the back door of the dress shop, turned again and waved.
God, that girl makes me tingle all over, I thought as I watched her disappear.
In the apartment, Angie was using the computer so I went directly to our room without checking my email.
I had just written, 'What I expect from my accountants' at the top of the paper when Charlie tapped on the door. From the way he burst into the room I could see that he was upset.
"What's up, Charlie?"
"You know what's up. I demand an apology."
"For what?"
"You know what. You owe Angie an apology and you owe me an explanation as to why you spanked her."
I didn't know whether to laugh or throw a brick through the window.
"Charlie, you've got to be shitting me. I didn't... wait... did she say... you had to get that from her... she must have told you I spanked her... is that it?"
Charlie was visibly upset and I believe he would have jumped me right then if he thought he had a chance of taking me down.
"Don't try to deny it, Sammy. You hurt her bad."
"She told you this? When did she tell you?"
"Her ass is bruised and there are welts the size..."
"When did she tell you?"
"Last night."
"Why didn't you come see me as soon as she told you? Now you've given her more time to make up more lies about me."
"It's not a lie. I came in here but you were out running or something. By the time you got back Angie was in bed and I wanted her to go to sleep. When we got up this morning you were already gone. This is the first chance I've had to..."
"Get her in here," I ordered and when he didn't make a move to call her in, I yelled at her. "Angie, get your ass in here. I want to see it."
"She's not going to undress in front of you," Charlie said but stopped when he saw how I was glaring at him.
Angie hadn't responded to my demand that she join us in the bedroom. "Ask you're girlfriend to report to me," I said, attempting to sound calm.
"Cut the Cromwell crap, Sammy. You're not in command here," Charlie barked at me.
"I fucking well am in command here. Whose name do you think is on the lease? Who do you think is paying the expenses?" I shouted and saw hurt appear on my friend's face.
I had seen Charlie come back to school after witnessing a fight between his parents but this was worse. "I'm sorry, Charlie," I said but he was already flying out the door.
I was seated at the computer, staring at the screen when Shirley came in, apologetic for being late.
"I'm sorry, Honey. I was held up," she said as she rushed past the front room to change her clothes.
"No rush, they've gone out," I said.
She came back and I explained what Charlie had accused me of doing, even that he said Angie had welts on her ass and how I had gotten upset and demanded that his girlfriend show me her ass and how they had left the apartment without a word.
Shirley took a seat in my lap and was going to console me when she happened to glance at the computer screen.
'What I expect from my accountants'
"I said two hundred and fifty words. That's only six," she laughed.
"I couldn't get started," I said.
She looked at me, closely scrutinizing my somber demeanor. "You're not letting her accusation affect your attention to what's important, are you? Come on, Honey, I'm expecting you to make the Dean's list, not crumble just because some little tart falsely accuses you of something bizarre."
"I don't ever want to be alone with her again. It's too dangerous," I said.
"That's nonsense. This is your apartment, our apartment, not theirs."
"You know that I didn't do it, don't you?"
"Of course I know you didn't do it."
"How can you be so sure?"
She looked into my eyes. "Because... I know you."
I pulled her close, feeling her chin rest against my forehead. "Tell me what I'm thinking right now."
"Well, first you're wondering when I'm going to stop crushing your lap and go make dinner. Next, you're wondering what we're going to have for dinner. And finally, you're wondering if I'm going to write the paper for you. How am I doing so far?"
"You're right on. Those are my thoughts, precisely."
"They are?" she asked, feigning surprise.
"What else should I be thinking?"
"You should be thinking of new and exotic ways you can tell me how much you love me."
"I love the way your chin feels against my forehead when you talk."
"That's not exotic," she said, getting up and heading for the bedroom.
We were having sandwiches and milk when Charlie and Angie came in carrying a pizza. They sat down at the table and opened the pizza box as if nothing had happened.
The aroma of the pizza was overpowering. I couldn't help notice the generous amount of pepperoni covering the top and wondered if they had ordered a double topping or if the pizza shop always made it that way.
"I can do fifty or sixty words on the importance of simplicity," I said to Shirley, already breaking the paper into manageable segments rather than trying to attack the overall subject.
Trish
- 01.04.2022
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