Alls Fair in Love and War
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All’s Not Fair Ch. 1 free porn video
Life is strange. . . wonderful and to be lived to the fullest! It’s also unfair, hurtful and filled with plenty of pain and misery to go around. We have survived the Judaeo-Christian philosophy, the age of enlightenment, the age of reason and it would appear that we are in the age of ‘anything goes’. Tough on a person growing up in the late 20th century, yet full of promise for some. The rest must live a life filled with varying degrees of pain and misery. This is a true story about choices. . . .
I was born and started my university training in West Virginia, in the Bible Belt! I was raised to respect certain moral and spiritual values and it is these concepts that have carried me through to where I am today. There’s been a fair amount of pain and a little misery but, generally, life’s delivered up on the promises. From all this I’ve learned that all philosophy is ‘bullshit’.
After two years of college it was apparent that if I was to pursue my major course of study I would have to enrol in a major university on the west coast. It would mean leaving the only life I’d ever known. It would mean having to leave the few friends I’d grown up with and developing a life elsewhere. This was a prospect that I faced with both anticipation and dread. I’d never been adept at making friends and I was never the life of the party or a brilliant conversationalist. The girls in my life were not prospects for a lifetime partnership and I had experienced only the biological fulfilment, not the love and commitment of a relationship. . . .I reasoned, ‘Perhaps a new start, in a new place was what I needed.’
So it was, in the fall, I was on the west coast, settled into a cheap apartment [all I could afford], and enrolled in a rather intensive course of study. My life was centred on my studies and days went by when I spoke to no one. This was not my choice and I longed to practise my social skills. . . .but where? The people I came in contact with in my daily routine were polished and confident and ‘out of my league’. At the Den I found I could get cheap beer and sit in the company of other people. The Den was also a hangout for the low life of the area. Women could be had for the price of a couple of beers and five minutes of conversation, albeit, one must surely have pangs of guilt on the morning after. I didn’t fit in.
Since my studies were progressing well and I was knowledgeable in all areas it was natural that I should begin tutoring other students. It gave me a chance to sharpen my social skills and earn some much needed money at the same time. This is how I came to know the certain fraternity that was to figure so prominently in this story. I tutored many of the rat brothers in a number of subjects and they paid well. As we became aquatinted I overheard stories of their social activities and if half the stories of their conquests of women were true they must surely have bedded most of the sorority girls at the university. The brothers came often to my apartment for their tutoring. . . .perhaps they enjoyed goading me about my lack of sexual prowess! Perhaps not!
By the following fall, I was involved in a routine and life had taken on a monotony. I was asked to pledge the fraternity but with my financial situation what it was I could not. . .Actually, I’d lost a lot of respect for the members of this fraternity anyway and was not disappointed at my having to reject the offer. I had a number of acquaintances about the university by then but no friends.
It was about 2:30 a.m. in late October when my doorbell roused me from a sound sleep. I could hear the sounds of revelry as I approached the door and when I opened it I was faced with several familiar faces from the fraternity and several not so familiar ones. they carried a young woman, very drunk and only vaguely aware of the events around her. Before I could react to this scene the troop moved into my living area and dropped the girl into my one upholstered chair. ‘Hey, we brought you a good fuck,’ someone said. ‘Give it to her good,’ another said and they departed as a group leaving me with one very intoxicated girls in my apartment.
As I began to take stock of the situation, I heard low moans and cries od dissension. ‘No, Please.’ ‘Stop,’ ‘Ungh!’ before she became sick and puked on my chair and carpet. Obviously I had to get her to the bathroom where she can at least get her vomit into the water closet. When I started to pick her up I noticed the stains from her vomit and what looked like semen stains on her dress. The smell of sex, unfamiliar as it was to me, was evident. When I went to pick her up it was also apparent that the dress was the only clothing she wore. A plastic bag had been left next to the chair with a bra, panty hose, shoes, and panties. It was also bathed in puke.
What I did next was compose myself after the feelings of revulsion that had overcome me. This girl was a human being and her partying was none of my business. She was intruding on my life and I was going to have to clean up the mess. . .’Damn those frat guys!’ , I thought.
With a plan of attack I placed the drunken body in the tub and pulled the black dress off over her head. She objected only briefly and quieted as I turned on the tepid water and allowed it to run with a fine spray over her inert body. Then, I busied myself with cleaning up the vomit and airing the apartment as the water continued to bathe the girl in my tub. She was sick again and, fortunately, this time the shower water washed it away.
After checking the washing instructions I placed the now repugnant dress in the washing machine and washed it.
Back in the bathroom, this still unknown girl had calmed and was beginning to sleep. I turned off the water, rolled her out of the tub and on to clean towels where I commenced drying her off. Since her long hair was badly matted, I set her up right and supported her body with mine while I combed the worst of the snarls. It was when I laid her back down that I saw more body fluids flowing from her vagina. She still flowed with the evidence of her past adventure. The feeling of repugnance came again as I wiped it up with a towel as best I could and cleaned her with a washcloth. When I finally put her in my spare bed [the room had two] she was unconscious.
The rest of the night I was occupied with cleaning up and restoring my apartment. My thoughts were confused. While I had been working on this unresponsive girl I had noted that she was quite comely. Her long, slim legs and well turned ass complimented her two rather small, pert breasts. Her face had been beautiful earlier and her black hair set it off nicely. She lay, totally nude in the spare bed, not six feet from where I stood.
By 6:30 a.m. I had retired to my bed and attempted to get some sleep. . . .The apartment was clean, her clothes were clean, and she was sleeping soundly. . . . .the rest could wait until later. In my bed I was troubled. ‘What rest?’, I pondered. ‘Where does she live?’. ‘What’s her name?’ ‘How much trouble am I in?’. Sleep came slowly.
Long after the sun had risen high in then sky outdoors, I was awakened by stirring in the other bed. ‘Oh My God!’ she said. ‘Who are you and what am I doing here?’ she asked of no one in particular. I, on hearing the stirring, raised up in bed and faced her. She gasped! She was momentarily stunned! ‘Good Morning!’, I said. This was greeted only by silence as the girls appraised the situation.
‘I was drunk.’ she stated flatly. ‘Yes.’, I said. ‘How did I get here?’ she asked. ‘Some fraternity people brought you.,’ I said. ‘Who the hell are you?’, she asked. Tension was building and the animosity in the girl began to control her actions. I had had enough of this ‘crazy broad’ and wasn’t about to take any more of her guff. The tense silence that ensued was broken only by her wrapping herself in bed covers and moving into the bathroom where she experienced some lingering effect from here previous night’s escapade. ‘Open the window,’ I said.
It was a sorry specimen who emerged an hour later, fully dressed in the clothes I had washed. The dress I had tried to press but did not resemble it’s former elegance. Her hair had been combed slightly. She wore no makeup. Even then, I noted a trim figure, fine features, and a manner that did not fit with what I knew about her previous evening.
‘Coffee,’ I said. She accepted the cup and drank in slow sips. There were tears in her eyes and we were silent. Finally, after another extended trip to the bathroom, she told me her name was Bambi Lynn Smith and that she lived at a sorority house where she was a pledge. ‘Let’s go,’ I said and we departed in my rattletrap to take her home. ‘Did we? Last night, I mean.’ she asked as we drove. ‘No,’ I said. ‘Was I a mess?’ she asked. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Thanks,’ she said as I drove off.
Back at the apartment I returned to my usual routine and felt quite good. I had helped another person. The better I felt about that, the more guilty I began to feel for the terse way I had treated her. ‘Bambi Lynn Smith’, ‘I’m sorry,’ I thought. Well, she was out of my life. . . .or so I thought.
It was while I was eating my lunch a couple of days later, that the phone rang and a bawling Bambi Lynn said, ‘Can you come and help me?’ I left immediately and met Bambi on the front porch of the house. She was alone. . . .she and all her possessions. ‘I’ve gotta leave, they’re throwing me out,’ she cried. ‘I don’t know, I don’t have enough money for a motel.’ she said. We talked. . .really talked as one person to another without prejudice or animosity. I missed my first tutoring appointment in over a year to remain with her that afternoon. She had been asked to leave the sorority and had no one to turn to so I was her confessor, her counsellor, her friend and driver.
‘Friend,’ I thought. She had become a friend . . .and I didn’t have another one in the world! For dinner we returned to my apartment and I fixed a good plate of spaghetti with a bottle of wine. It seems right that we should be friends together this night. We washed the dishes and talked. Bambi even managed to laugh a couple of times. Time seemed to offer no solutions and at bedtime Bambi was homeless so. . . . there was always the spare bed!
We talked about it and she was reluctant. This time she would be a burden by choice and did not like the idea. We talked and I agreed we’d be friends. . .nothing more. The bed was hers for as long as she needed and she could help with expenses. I explained that expenses were a problem for me now that I didn’t have money coming in from tutoring the frat boys and it would be a benefit.
She went briefly to the rattletrap and returned with her toiletries and night clothes and we began to live together as brother and sister. . .. friends really! In a few days Bambi had given up finding other accommodations and the arrangement had become permanent as we brought the last of her possessions from the rattletrap into the apartment. We developed a nice routine.
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