Johanna - 3 free porn video

The start of my first semester of college was memorable for all the wrong reasons – personal, athletic, and academic. Mom was in cancer treatments, I embarrassed myself on the athletic field, and I discovered that being one of the smartest kids in high school did not translate into being one of the smartest kids in college. Welcome to the real world. 

Mom went into chemo in August and I regularly took her into the University Medical Center. Roberta had wanted to come immediately, but I convinced her that it would be better if she came after the semester started, when I would be in class and Mom would need help with rehab. Mom was in a lot of pain from the chemo and initially resisted taking opioid pain medication. But she was so wracked with pain, that I convinced her to take some pills each night before going to bed to help her get some sleep.

I began sleeping with her in big king bed, and holding her through the night. She seemed to appreciate being in my arms. She would often wake with hallucinations induced by the drug, always mumbling to me about memories of Dad. It was a bit frightening as she said things she would never say when in control of herself. It took me some time to realize that she was not conscious of what she was saying.

“Oh, Johanna!” she said one night during an episode. “The day before your father left for Iraq, we had such a huge fight! I baited him and provoked him, called him names. I just wanted his attention, but I couldn’t do it nicely – I’d gotten so used to fighting with him that I’d forgotten how to love him.”

“Shhh, shhh,” I said, holding her.

A shudder of pain coursed through her body before she could go on.

“I pushed him, I hit him, and finally I got the response I wanted! He picked me up, carried me to my bedroom, and threw me on this very bed. He rucked up my skirt and made violent love to me. We both knew it was what I wanted, but I fought him, I tore his skin with my nails. Oh, what a bitch I am!”

“But, Mom, Gordon Greene was home that day,” I said, too horrified to shush her.

“Yes, yes he was. But when Robert picked me up and carried me upstairs, he went and shut himself in the study.”

“Please, Mom, you’ve got to rest,” I said.

I really didn’t want to know more about this, and hoped I could get her back to sleep. But she was in an opioid induced haze and could not be reasoned with. She insisted on spouting out the intimate details. I was grossed out and a bit excited at the same time. I could not decide which emotion was dominant – all I knew was that I wanted her to stop.

“It was always like that with us – fighting with him fueled my passion.” Her whole body tensed as she was wracked with another wave of pain. “When he died, do you remember how you screamed at me that I never loved him? Oh, chérie  you were just a child, but you don’t know how much you hurt me when you said that. It wasn’t that I didn’t love him, it was that I loved him too much.”

“I know that now, Mom,” I said, holding her tight in an attempt to squeeze out her pain. She began to cry softly and as she calmed down, the drugs in her system took hold again. She fell asleep.

We had an appointment with the surgeon at the end of August, the last week before classes started. He pronounced himself satisfied with the effects of the chemo, and scheduled the surgery for the next day saying, “The sooner we get that out of you, the better, Ms. von Eschenbach.”

Mom had surgery in the morning and Roberta arrived at her bedside in the afternoon. I left Mom in her capable hands and went to campus. I got all the paperwork for the semester squared away, so I was ready for the start on Monday.

*

Mom was discharged two days after her surgery to convalesce at home. She was weak and wan, but much happier than when she had been on chemo. One of major reasons for her good cheer was that the surgeon had outdone himself with her breast reconstruction. Her bosom was just as shapely and only slightly smaller.

When I came home in the evening, I found Roberta was in the kitchen, cooking. I sat at the kitchen island and we chatted while she was working. When she was ready, I went up to Mom’s bedroom and brought her down to eat. She leaned on me as I brought her down the steps. Roberta came out and the two of us helped her to her seat in the dining room.

“The soup is excellent,” she said after taking her first sip. “Thank you, Roberta.”

As we ate, Mom quizzed me about my day. I described my class schedule, meeting my freshman advisor, and all the myriad details of getting started in college.

“Oh, by the way, I found this in the Student Athletics Center,” I said when I had finished. I pulled a flyer out of my book bag and handed it to Mom. It was an announcement of tryouts for walk-ons for the varsity track team. “Do you think I should try out?”

“Of course, chérie,” she said, handing the flyer to Roberta. “You run all the time. I’m sure you will be chosen.”

“I don’t know much about track,” said Roberta, doubtfully. “But this is a big midwestern university. The track team is probably pretty good.”

“Oh, come, come, Roberta,” said Mom. “Johanna is such a tomboy, there cannot be many girls who can run like her.”

The tryouts were the Friday before classes started. I arrived at the track outside the Field House in my running clothes to find a several dozen girls already there. There were all body types – from heavily muscled sprinters to lean, emaciated distance runners. I was the only one who was already in my running kit. Everyone else was in street clothes with a gym bag. An assistant coach came out of the Field House, announced his name and distributed forms for us to fill out. The top of the form had boxes asking for personal details: name, address, phone number, height, and weight. However, the bulk of the form was devoted to “prior experience”. It asked for the name and address of one’s high school coach, private coach, and an incredible amount of detail regarding previous times and meet participation.

After filling in the personal details, as well as the name of my high school, I just put “not applicable” in block letters on the rest of the form and handed it in. Another assistant coach came out and asked us to change into our gear. All the girls except me followed him into the Field House. I stood outside and paced nervously.

Girls began to emerge from the Field House in their running gear and were soon stretching and warming up. The first assistant coach came up to me.

“Are you von Eschenbach?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, nodding.

“Why didn’t you fill in the name of your high school coach and details of your high school track experience?”

“I didn’t run track in high school.”

He was visibly taken aback.

“You know that this is the tryout for the varsity track team, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said. “For walk-ons. I know the girls getting track scholarships have already been selected.”

“What events are you trying out for?”

“Distance running,” I said. “The longer the better.”

“We’ll have a 10k trial today,” he said. “Line up when that event is called. Best of luck.”

Half an hour later, all the girls were back out in their running gear. The sprinters had their spikes on, and the distance runners were in sleek racing flats. My running shoes looked cheap and clunky in comparison.

The second assistant coach came out with a megaphone and asked all the sprinters and jumpers to re-enter the field house. The first coach shepherded the rest of us to the infield of the track. He was joined by three track team student managers with clipboards.

“We’ll start with the 10k,” he announced. “Followed by the 5k. If you are trying out for the steeplechase, line up with the 5k trial. You have fifteen minutes to warm up and stretch. Then I’ll call you to the line.”

All of us got on the track and began warming up. It seemed that every girl had her own routine. I was not quite sure what to do, so I just ran a few laps at an easy pace. At the end of the warm up period, the assistant coach blew his whistle and I followed about twenty other girls to the line. There was a lean, blond girl standing there. Her face was a bit too long and her nose was a bit too thin. She was pleasant looking, but not classically beautiful. However, her incredibly hot body made up for a lot. She was definitely striking, it was hard not to stare at her.

“This is Sabine van de Graaf,” he announced. “She’ll pace you for the first five laps at a hundred seconds per lap. Then she’ll speed up lap by lap. Watch the lap cards – do not pass her till the last five laps. Then you are free to run your own pace, but be aware that Sabine will run her own pace in those last five laps as well. If you can beat Sabine, you’ve definitely got a spot on the team.” That got a round of nervous laughter. “We’ll collect the order of finish and times.”

In very short order we were under way. I had never run in an organized event before, so I found myself at the very back of the pack in very first lap. In order to move up, I had to run around the outside of the group and this took a lot more effort. After a few attempts, I gave up and contented myself with trailing at the back of the group. The first five laps were relatively easy. But once Sabine began upping the pace, I soon found myself pushing much harder than I ever had before. I was breathing noisily as I tried to keep contact with the tail of the group. I was just managing to do so when we came around the finish of the 10th lap. There was another uptick in speed and it was just too much for me. I fell off the back of the group. Once I fell off, the gap grew rapidly.

It was clearly hopeless and I was tempted to give up, but there was something dogged in me that wouldn’t. As lap followed lap, more girls were dropped off the pace, and I even caught one or two. But then as I came across the start finish line and saw 8 laps to go, I looked over my shoulder to saw Sabine was very close behind me. She caught me as I rounded turn one. She surprised me by giving me a pat on the rump and a smile as she went by at high speed. There were a few girls on her heels, but the rest of the field was now straggling around the whole track.

Sabine lapped me one more time by the finish. This time I tried to raise my pace and managed to stay with her for a short distance, but then she was gone, her smooth strides metronomic in their perfection. I ran as hard as I could on the last lap, just for myself. I knew I was going to be one of the last finishers and had embarrassed myself. But I still wanted to give it my best shot. I came across the finish line to no fanfare and staggered into the infield.

I put my hands on my thighs, bent forward, and began to retch. I could not get enough air into my lungs, and kept wheezing between retches. I threw up everything that was in my stomach. Then I felt a hand between my shoulder blades and another on the back of my neck. The rubbing on my back and neck helped. I slowly regained control, though the brackish taste of my retching remained in my mouth. I looked up to see Sabine holding me by the waist.

“Come on,” she said. She had an unmistakable Dutch accent. “Let’s go into the Field House. You can clean up in the toilet.”

She led me to the toilet and stood by while I cleaned up. She walked out with me.

“You’ve never run competitively, have you?” she asked.

“No,” I said.

“You’re very brave to try out. This is a big American university. The track team is nearly Olympic standard. The scholarship girls here are from all around the world.”

“More foolish than brave,” I said. “I just embarrassed myself. I’m not in the same league as the other girls here. I should have known that.”

We were just outside the Field House, still a way from the outdoor track. There was no one near us.

 “For someone who’s never raced before, you’re pretty fast,” she said. She put her hands on my cheeks, pulled me toward her, and whispered in my ear. “You’re pretty as well. Give me your phone number.”

Then she kissed me on the lips, so quickly that I could not be sure that she had actually done it. I felt a sharp buzz, and a stupid smile suffused my face. I gave her Mom’s home number and she put it in her cell phone.

“I’ll call you,” she said.

*

I had declared the intent to be a math major and also took all the incoming student placement tests in the week before classes started. I did very well, and qualified to skip the first two courses and go straight into the junior level honors course. I brought the results home and sat with Mom and Roberta to discuss it.

“That’s what I did,” said Roberta. “I took Honors Analysis One and Two in my freshman year. It was great because it opened the door to do so many specialied courses in my program. Otherwise you spend two years just doing the basics. And from your placement test results, it seems clear you already know all that stuff.”

“It’s not my field, chérie,” said Mom. “But I’m sure Roberta knows what she’s talking about.”

The first Honors Analysis One class was on Monday, the first day of the semester. It was not a big class – there were only about twenty students, but it must have been one of the most diverse classes on campus. At one extreme, there were a few Math graduate students making up for gaps their own undergraduate education. At the other extreme, there were gifted program kids – those who had been identified very young as having super high IQs. Some were as young as twelve. The professor was a 30-something German by the name of Rudolf Schanzer.

He began the lecture by telling us how concepts of calculus are generalized within mathematical analysis. In the first half hour he went over limits and sequences and series, topics that were quite familiar to me. But after that he sped up. Within the second half hour, he covered more than we covered in the entire final semester senior year in high school. I went up to Professor Schanzer as he was gathering his material after class.

“Hi, Professor,” I said. “I understood what you said about ordered sets, but once you got into fields and field properties, I lost you.”

He looked at me for a moment.

“You look rather young to be in this class.” His German accent was obvious, but not strong.

“I’m a freshman. But I placed into this class in the pre-semester tests.”

“Well, it’s early days,” he said. “Use the textbook to read up on field properties and think up examples. If you are still having difficulty, come and see me during my office hours.”

*

That evening, Roberta, Mom, and I were eating dinner when the phone rang. I picked it up and heard Sabine’s Dutch accent, “Hello, could I speak with Johanna, please?”

“This is Johanna,” I said.

“This is Sabine, we met at the tryouts. Do you want to go for a run tomorrow morning?”

“At the track?”

“No, on the road. I thought you could show me some local routes since you live here.”

“How do you know that?”

“I looked at your form. You went to the local high school.”

“Okay,” I said, surprised she had taken the trouble to look me up.

“Great! Text me your address, I’ll come by tomorrow morning at five.”

“Five in the morning?” I asked, aghast.

“Yes,” she said.

She gave me her number and hung up. I texted her our address on my cheap flip phone before returning to the dining room.

“Who was that?” asked Mom.

“A girl from the track team,” I said. “She wants to run with me.”

*

The next morning, I waited on our porch in the predawn darkness. It was a bit chill, and I wore tights and a Lycra T-shirt over my sports bra. I was glad I was ready early, for Sabine arrived a few minutes before five. She wore nothing but very small red racing briefs and a red sports bra, both with prominent team sponsor logos. I noted with envy that her breasts were fuller than mine, but still very firm. I ran down the steps and we set off with just a quick exchange of “Hi’s”.

I led her on one of my favorite routes, out along dirt horse trails that I rode so often on horseback. She ran with an effortless lope at a pace that was a lot faster than I normally ran. It was obviously very easy for her and she talked non-stop, without even breathing hard. She told me about herself, her high school in the old university town of Leiden, winning the Dutch Regional 10k championships, being recruited by American universities, and finally deciding to come to Wisconsin. I could just about maintain this pace, but was happy to listen and limit my conversation to a few words indicating the upcoming turns in the route.

She seemed delighted with the farms and fields that we passed, commenting on how much it reminded her of home. The route was about ten miles and we got back to my house in just over an hour. The sun was just coming up and it was still rather chill, but now we were both covered with sweat.

I took off my T-shirt, threw it on the porch, and put my hand up to give her a high five. She met my hand, but then pulled me into her arms, and held me tight. It was one of those moments that only last a few seconds in real time, but last for minutes in memory. Her hands moved all over my back, then traced the lines of my sports bra. Her breasts were against mine and I felt their firm texture and the hints of her hardening nipples. Her lips found mine and her tongue darted out to give me a quick touch. And then she was gone, running down the street without a backward glance.

*

Four weeks went by quickly and I gradually fell into a routine. I went to school every day and ran three mornings a week with Sabine. We ran about an hour and I took her on trails all around town. She seemed delighted with trail running and the countryside. She always ended our runs with that quick moment of intimacy on the sidewalk outside my house. There was an imperceptible advance each time, but it was very subtle. But I did realize that her hands and lips were bolder at the end of four weeks than they had been on the first day.

Mom got better every day and two weeks into the semester, she began teaching her classes. A couple of her department colleagues had pitched in to teach for her until she was able to do so. Mom invited them over for dinner to thank them. I did the shopping for the dinner and helped Mom and Roberta as they cooked the fine meal.

Roberta stayed for three weeks, exhausting her paid leave of two weeks and taking another week of unpaid leave. During the third week, she got a call from her company in San Fran telling her to return or be fired. Both Mom and I prevailed on her to leave. I honestly think that the only reason she agreed was that Mom’s health had improved dramatically. Even her surgeon and her oncologist said that her recovery was much better than they expected. They were both confident that she would go into full remission.

I took Roberta to the airport. Mom couldn’t come as she was at work. We hugged and kissed as we said our goodbyes. She made me promise to take care of Mom. Then she walked away toward security. She looked over her shoulder as left – breathtakingly beautiful, stylishly dressed as usual, swaying elegantly on her high heels, attracting every male eye in sight. I felt the pangs of parting, but in my heart of hearts, I also felt a little relief.

I had not realized how much I had gotten used to having the house and Mom to myself. The weeks with Roberta had been great, but were also filled with the tiny irritants of my childhood. Mom and Roberta chattered together in French, and though I understood enough to catch the gist, I missed the nuance and all the humor. They would suddenly burst out laughing and I would be left staring into space. I responded by making snide comments in German which Mom understood, but Roberta did not. I watched Roberta’s plane take off with mixed feelings, a bit guilty at my disloyalty.

*

All my classes were going well, except for mathematical analysis. The first midterm was held in the fourth week and I flunked it badly. It was a shock to me, for it was the first time I had flunked an exam in my life. I didn’t tell Mom, but I called Roberta and told her, fearful of her reaction.

“Analysis is hard, Johanna,” she said. “But it’s like all of math. Once it clicks, you’ll see everything very clearly. But you really must understand the principles of fields, otherwise none of it will make any sense.”

“I understand the field properties,” I said. “But I don’t understand how they relate to anything else. Like numbers or functions.”

“Fields are the foundations on which you build spaces, Johanna. And you build numbers and functions on spaces. They’re all related in a very hierarchical way.”

“I understand functions, I just don’t understand why we need all these foundations.”

“They’re necessary to ground everything in the fundamental axioms, Johanna.”

Roberta sounded very patient, but I could sense that she was growing a little frustrated with me. If I couldn’t understand my own sister, how could I possibly understand Professor Schanzer?

After I hung up, I was feeling very down. The phone rang again almost immediately and I jumped. It was Mom telling me that she was working late.

“Order a takeout, chérie,” she said. “Save a little for me, I’m not very hungry.”

I hung up and wandered around the house, depressed. I had been planning to be a math major and follow Roberta’s footsteps ever since I was in middle school. She had been through this math program at a much more prestigious university. Her competition must have been even stronger than what I was facing. Yet she had sailed through with straight A’s, while I was flunking the very first course.

Once again, I was the lesser of the two sisters – in academics, music, cuisine, looks, boyfriends, social life – in short, everything. The only things I was better at were physical – athletics and the outdoors. But as Mom never failed to emphasize, these were not really feminine pursuits. Even our language skills seemed opposed – Roberta’s French and my German. As I sank deeper and deeper into gloom, my failure in math seemed to summarize everything about Roberta and me. No wonder Mom loves Roberta better, I thought.

I pulled out my flip phone and on impulse, called Sabine. She picked up immediately.

“Hi, Johanna.”

“Sabine, I’m home,” I said. I was dry eyed, but my voice was teary. “I flunked my math midterm.”

“I’ll be right over.”

Sabine arrived wearing a sports bra, a very short skirt, and high heels. It was the first time I had seen her in anything but her running outfit. The heels made her strong, well-muscled legs longer and shapelier.

She brought takeout Chinese and a 6-pack of cold beer. As we ate and drank together in the dining room, I smiled inwardly at this small act of rebellion. Mom disliked Chinese food and hated beer. I got up when we were done and put the leftover food on the kitchen island. Sabine came up behind me carrying what was left of the 6-pack. She put her free hand around my waist and kissed the back of my neck. It was an aggressive kiss – her lips created a seal and her tongue lanced out. Her hand moved over my bare midriff, her fingers traced my belly button and moved downward.

“Sabine, what are you doing –” I began. Her free hand found its way below the waistband of my skirt and clamped on my crotch through my panties. I cried out, “Omigod!”

“Let’s go to your bedroom,” she whispered in my ear. “Unless you want me to take you right here in the kitchen.”

“Not here,” I panted. Her hand on my crotch kneaded my panties into my pussy. “My mom – Oh God!” Her forefinger found my clit, and even through my silk panties her adept touch made me cry out again.

She released me, and it took a few moments for my breathing to return to normal. I led her up to my room, almost running up the steps. Once in, I shut the door and locked it. She pushed me toward my bed hard enough that I almost fell into it and lay on my back. She set down the remaining beers on the floor and climbed into the bed after me. I started to take off my short top, but she stopped me.

“Let me do it,” she whispered. “Leave everything to me, darling.”

She straddled my midsection, took my wrists in her hands, and pinned them above my head. She leaned forward till her breasts touched mine. She kissed my eyebrows, my eyes, the tip of my nose, my cheeks, her tongue working in concert with her lips. By the time her lips found mine, I was panting again. I opened my mouth to her and she invaded me with aggression, dominance, asserting that I was hers. She twisted her torso against me, and her rounded breasts caused my nipples to harden and strain against my thin bra and silk top. She kissed me thoroughly – there was no other way to describe it. When she was finally done, I was in a fever to know what she would do next.

She unbuttoned my top and I raised myself to allow her to take it off. My bra was a silk bandeau and she pulled down the cups rather than unfastening it. She looked from my small red aureoles and thick, long, red nipples to my face.

“Oh Johanna,” she breathed. “Look what you’ve been hiding from me!”

“I don’t have much –” I began apologetically.

“You’re perfect, Johanna!” she exclaimed. “Just perfect!”

She dived down and took one of my nipples into her mouth, spearing it with her tongue, sucking greedily. She massaged my small breasts with her hands as she did so. My nipples grew so stiff that they even hurt a little, but her tongue and the saliva she lavished on me soon extinguished it. She knew she was driving me wild, for my pants rose in volume till I was groaning, interspersed with a litany of her name.

“Oh Sabine, please Sabine, oh Sabine, please Sabine, ….”

Her lips traced downward, worshipping the swell of my belly. Her tongue lanced my belly button, a touch so much more sensitive than her fingers had been.  I knew where she was going, and I wanted it. But she made me wait, moving lower ever so slowly.

She hiked my skirt up around my waist. Her fingers and lips found my pussy and worked on it in unison.

“Your panties are wet, Johanna,” she whispered. “So very wet.”

“I want you, Sabine! Oh, how I want you!”

“You’re quivering, dearest,” she whispered. “How many girls have gone down on you before?”

“I’ve never been with a girl before,” I gasped.

“A virgin,” said Sabine. “So young, so innocent.”

“No, no,” I said. “I’m not a virgin. I’ve been with boys …”

“Doesn’t count,” she said, dismissively.

She stripped off my wet panties and I raised myself again to help her. Her lips met my pussy lips, her tongue entered me and her fingers began to stimulate my clit. She was skilled beyond anything in my limited experience. She played on me like a finely tuned instrument, pumping me up to the brink and stopping, again and again.

“Sabine! Fieber scheint mein Blut zu verbrennen!” I screamed Siegfried’s lines from Nibelungenlied as I came. (Fever seems to burn my blood!).

I thrashed on my bed as she held me down, continuing to suck on my clit with her lips, prolonging my orgasm, on and on.

“Please, Sabine! Oh please, Sabine!” I begged.

I didn’t know whether I wanted her to stop or keep going. I was covered with sweat, my hands were in her blond hair, holding her face to my pussy, rotating my hips wildly. Just when I thought I had nothing left, she finally stopped moving her tongue and her fingers. My hands slowly slid off her head and lay by my sides. I was spent, wrung out.

She crawled up on the bed and took me in her strong arms. She kissed me on the lips again, and I opened my mouth to receive her. She moved her lovely breasts against mine again and I knew I wanted her, to explore her as she had me.

“You’re sweet down there, Johanna,” she said. “But sex always makes me thirsty. I’m having a beer, want one?”

I nodded and she popped two of the bottles she had brought up with her teeth. She handed me one, we tapped bottles, and drank.

“You caught my eye that first time I saw you at the tryouts,” she said, putting her arm around me again. “I thought you were the prettiest girl there. You’re not everyone’s taste, but you’re exactly what I like.”

She cupped one of my bare breasts with her hand before draining her beer bottle. I emptied my own beer bottle and kissed her, tasting the beer on her lips and tongue. Then I heard Mom calling up the stairs.

“Johanna! I’m home! Are you up there?”

“Oh Sabine …” I whispered.

“Don’t worry, love,” she said, kissing me on the nose. “We’ll make love again. Let’s go down and meet your mother. I’ve heard she’s a beauty.”

*

Sabine and I sneaked to the upstairs bathroom and cleaned up. I put on a fresh pair of panties and we walked down the stairs together. Mom was in the kitchen, looking unhappily at the leftover Chinese food. She wore her normal work clothes – a white blouse, a tight black skirt, a silk scarf, and pearls with chic high heel shoes. Her expression changed to a welcoming smile when she saw Sabine.

The chemo and surgery had been rough on her, but she had bounced back surprisingly well. She looked more tired than she used to, but otherwise was as lovely as ever.

“Mom, this is Sabine,” I said. “I’ve told you about her, we run together. Sabine, this is my mother, Professor Marie-Aude von Eschenbach.”

“I am so pleased to finally meet you, Sabine,” said Mom. “Johanna has told me so much about you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Marie-Aude,” said Sabine. Before I could prevent her or resist, she put an arm around my waist and drew me to her possessively. “I see that your reputation as the best-looking professor on campus is well founded. Now I see where Johanna gets her looks.”

Mom took this rather irregular greeting in stride. I could see that she was surprised, but not shocked. She waved us to go and sit down at the dining table.

“I’m pleased that Johanna has found such a good friend on campus,” she said. Her slight emphasis on the word “friend” made it clear that she understood the message Sabine was giving her. “You look a bit older. Are you a junior?”

“A senior,” said Sabine. “I graduate at the end of the academic year.”

“I’m going to open some wine to combat the taste of this … food,” said Mom. “I’m sure Johanna will have a glass with me. Will you join us?”

“Of course,” said Sabine.

We sat down and sipped our wine while Mom ate the Chinese leftovers. I knew her well enough to know that she was not enjoying the food, but her expression remained cordial.

“I understand you are here on a sports scholarship,” said Mom.

“Yes,” said Sabine. “I’ll be going back home during the Christmas break for the Dutch national championships. I want to retain my place on the Dutch national team.”

“You must be very fast.”

“Pretty fast, yes.”

“Johanna has always run fast,” said Mom, betraying her ignorance of the world of athletics.

“She tries very hard, Marie-Aude,” said Sabine, taking my hand under the table and squeezing it.

I was unsettled my Sabine’s insistence on calling Mom by her first name. However, it did not seem to bother Mom at all. She pushed her plate away after taking a few bites and sipped her wine.

“I’ll load the dishwasher,” I said, picking up Mom’s plate. She nodded and smiled.

I took her plate to the kitchen, emptying what was left of the food into the bin. I changed my mind, deciding to load the dishwasher after Sabine left. I put the plate in the full sink and headed back to the dining room. As I approached the short vestibule between the kitchen and the dining room, I heard Mom’s voice drifting toward me and stopped, still out of sight.

“Johanna is younger than her years, Sabine,” said Mom. “Whereas you seem quite … experienced. Please don’t hurt her.”

“I’ll take care of your girl, Marie-Aude,” said Sabine. “I’m not cruel or vicious.” She paused. “What about you? I think you’re a dazzling woman. I want you too.”

“I’m old enough to be your mother, Sabine.”

“I can give you a lot of pleasure, Marie-Aude. I promise you, I’m a better lover than any woman you’ve had before.”

“I’m sure you are,” said Mom. “But I will not compete with my daughter. Just keep your promise not to hurt her. That’s the greatest pleasure you can give me.”

They were speaking in low tones, so I assumed they did not want me to overhear them. I lingered in the vestibule till Mom called, “Johanna, what’s keeping you?”

I returned to the dining room to find Sabine drinking the last of her wine and standing up.

“I’ll be going, Marie-Aude,” she said. She turned to me. “We’ll run a bit slower tomorrow after what we’ve had to drink this evening.”

“Yes,” I said.

After Sabine left, I sat with Mom, sipping the last of my wine.

“College is a time to have experiences, Johanna. Some of them will warm you. Some of them will hurt you. But all of them will help you grow up.”

“Do you like Sabine?” I asked.

“There’s something hard about her, but I think she’s honest. Just listen to what she says. Don’t ask her for something she can’t give you.”

*

As I was leaving after the next analysis class, Professor Schanzer called out to me.

“Do you have a minute, Johanna?”

“Sure,” I said. “My next class isn’t for another two hours.”

“I was going to get a coffee. Would you like to join me?”

I nodded and followed him to one of the campus coffee shops. He had an espresso and got me a cappuccino.

“You’re Professor von Eschenbach’s daughter, aren’t you? The Art History professor and pianist?”

“Yes,” I said cautiously.

“Your mother is an amazing pianist.”

“I know.”

I didn’t really want to discuss my mother with my math professor.

“I checked with your advisor,” he said, changing the subject. “You’re doing advanced German and most of your distributional requirements. You’re getting straight A’s in all your other courses.”

“Yes,” I repeated.

“You’re obviously very bright, Johanna. And you’re good at math. But I don’t think you’re cut out to be a math major. Admittedly, honors analysis is one of the toughest courses in the department, and you’re taking it as a freshman. But it looks like it doesn’t come naturally to you.” He paused, searching for the right words. “You’re very good at using math, but you seem to struggle with actually doing math.”

 “Am I a hopeless case, then?”

“Not hopeless. You could probably get through the program. But you won’t enjoy it. You should look for a major where you’ll have fun. I think you’d be good at engineering.”

“Are you suggesting I drop your course?”

“There are students worse than you in the class, Johanna. I’m seeing them during my office hours, giving them some extra help. I’d like to do the same for you. Just get through this semester with a passing grade and then decide what you want to do.”

“Thank you, professor. I really appreciate that.”

*

Sabine and I started a torrid affair. We now ended all our runs at her athletic dorm. Hot and sweaty, we made love vigorously in her single bed and then showered together. She taught me how to pleasure her and I was an eager pupil, learning the secrets of a woman’s body. We went to bars and parties, and were seen everywhere on campus together. I went to all of Sabine’s meets and was thrilled to see her wins, which were many. Mom often came home from work to find us together.

I could not understand the interactions between Sabine and Mom. They treated each other as equals rather than recognizing that that Mom was more than 30 years older. Sabine made no secret of her admiration for Mom. She complimented Mom on her looks using language that was intimate enough to make me squirm. She often touched her, from innocent pats on her rump to suggestive brushes of her hands against Mom’s breasts. She loved to listen to Mom playing the piano, even though it was clear she had little understanding of classical music. She sometimes usurped my sous-chef role when Mom cooked, leaving me at a loss.

I began to make excuses to avoid bringing her home, spending our time together at her athletic dorm instead. She didn’t seem to mind, but after a few weeks, Mom asked me about her while I was helping her cook.

“I see her on campus, Mom,” I said.

“Were you comfortable sleeping with her in her dorm room last night?”

“I came home last night, Mom,” I said, flushing.

 “It was after 2 AM, Johanna.”

“What were you doing up so late?”

“I can never sleep till you come home, cherie. You know that.”

I laid the table while Mom brought the food out to the dining room.

“Is anything the matter?” she asked.

I didn’t answer for a while, and she didn’t press me.

“I’m uncomfortable with how Sabine acts around you,” I said eventually.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s too forward with you. She acts like she has the hots for you.

“She likes women, Johanna, you know that.”

“But you don’t discourage her.”

Mom did not answer immediately. We continued to eat, and finished the course. Mom got up, brought the dessert from the kitchen and I served it out.

“I’m very sorry, chérie,” said Mom, putting her fork down after taking a bite, and facing me. “I’ve been a bit insecure about my looks since the surgery and I suppose I found Sabine’s interest reassuring. Especially since she’s so much younger and quite attractive. But I should have thought more about you and less about myself. Please forgive me.”

Mom leaned over and put a hand on my cheek. I put a hand on hers, held it and kissed it.

“Of course, Mom.”

“I can see that you’re infatuated with her, Johanna. She’s an intensely sexual creature and I’m sure she’s great in bed.”

“Mhmm,” I murmured.

“Sex is great thing, Johanna. But it isn’t love.”

I think about Sabine all the time, I thought. And I’m sure she thinks about me the same way. Is that love or infatuation? What’s the difference? Is there a difference?

“Love is forever, Johanna,” said Mom, reading my mind as she so often did. “Infatuation is for the here and now. Today Sabine is crazy about you. But tomorrow it may be another girl. Or another boy.”

“Another boy?” I asked.

“Of course, cherie. I’ve seen the way she looks at men. Haven’t you?”

“No.”

“Well, put your realism glasses on the next time you’re with her. She looks at men the same way you look at men.”

“Me?” I asked, shocked.

Mom started laughing.

“You’re your father’s daughter, Johanna, a cowgirl from the West. Of course, you like men! Just because you’re having sex with Sabine doesn’t mean you’re a lesbian.”

*

My sessions with Professor Schanzer grew more frequent as the semester wore on. Like all professors, he was a nerd and I enjoyed spending time with him. I was flattered that he seemed to find me interesting in return. He had a funny way of putting things and always made me laugh.

Analysis never came to me naturally like it did to Roberta. But I began to see how things worked and how they fit together. I passed the second midterm and Professor Schanzer took me out for an ice cream to celebrate. He asked me to call him Rudolf and we began to speak to each other in German. He was from Heidelberg and had the accent characteristic of that city. I unconsciously began mimicking his accent, and he encouraged me to do so.

Fall advanced, the days got shorter and colder, and the semester was winding down. I was not going to get a stellar grade in analysis, but by now I was fairly sure I would pass the course. I ran with Sabine on the last day of classes before Thanksgiving break and we made love in her dorm room. By now, I stored clothes in her room so after we showered together, I dressed for the day.

“I’ve been invited to a party tonight,” said Sabine as we sat in a campus coffee shop with our rather mediocre croissants and coffee. “Let’s go together.”

“Okay,” I said.

“It’s mainly athletes,” she said. “Lots of aggressive boys.”

“I hung out with guys from the football team in high school,” I said. “I can handle aggressive boys.”

“How did you do that?”

“You just have to firm with them. They soon realize that they’re not going to get what they want.”

“That’s not the difficult part,” said Sabine, laughing. “What is difficult is to get them to do what you want.”

I was not sure what she meant, but I let it pass. We parted to go to our different classes, agreeing to meet by the Union Terrace at 8.

“It will be too early to go the party,” she said. “But we can sit by the lake and neck for a while. Wear a heavy coat, it’ll be cold.”

Necking with Sabine was always exciting, especially in public. We had out coats undone and under their cover, our hands probed each other’s bodies. We both wore very short skirts for the party and stockings with high heels. Our blouses were brief and left our shapely midriffs bare – we both liked to show off our defined abs.

She managed to get her hand under my skirt and screen it so well that even people walking on the lakefront walk a few yards in front of us couldn’t see that she had two fingers deep in my pussy. Her lips sealed mine and her tongue delved into my mouth. She kept me dangling for what seemed like an exceedingly long time.

“Make me cum, Sabine!” I whispered urgently in her ear. “Please! Please! I can’t bear it anymore!”

“Breathe, baby!” she whispered back. “Ride it now, just ride the wave!”

I began to moan and she covered my lips with hers again to stifle me. Her thumbnail grated over my clit a few times and I began to cum, thrashing in her arms.

“Calm down, crazy girl,” whispered Sabine. “You’ll get someone to call public safety on us!”

“I don’t know how you do it, Sabine,” I said. “You drive me wild! Let me do you.”

“Not now,” she said. “Let’s go the party. I’d like to get us together with Lane.”

“Who’s Lane?”

“The guy that invited me to the party. He’s an athlete. And he’s hot. He’s in my political science class.”

“Have long have you been seeing him?” I asked, feeling the stirrings of jealousy.

“Don’t get upset, sweets. It’s nothing serious. I’ve told him all about you. He’s very keen to meet you.”

“I’m not sure I want to meet him,” I said.

“Don’t be like that, Johanna,” she said. “Trust me. And open yourself to new experiences.”

I wasn’t sure of what new experiences she was talking about, so I fell silent. We walked across campus arm in arm and got to the house where the party was being held before nine. Everything was in full swing when we got there. A boy at the entrance pointed us to a side room that had been side aside for coats and we threw ours on top of a big pile. We entered the main room and pushed our way through the tight mass of bodies, many swaying to the pounding music. Several couples were making already making out in the corners. I tried to put my arm around Sabine’s waist, but she brushed me off, took my hand and pulled me to a smaller side room that was doing service as the bar. She waved energetically to a very tall, handsome boy who was leaning on the bar with a beer in his hand.

“Sabine!” he called out. “Come on over here!”

She left me and pushed her way to him. I followed her and was surprised when he took her in his arms and kissed her full on the mouth, his tongue pushing out for all to see. She kissed him back energetically. I stood back, but she twisted in his arms and beckoned to me. I came forward tentatively, and she said to him, “This is Johanna, the girl I told you about. Johanna, this is Lane.”

“Hi, Johanna,” said Lane, still holding Sabine in his arms. “I’ve heard all about you. I guess Sabine’s given lessons to both of us.” He winked and laughed. “We can try out what we’ve learned tonight, eh?”

I assumed he was joking and laughed with him without saying anything. He got beers for both Sabine and me. We tapped glasses and drank. It was difficult to hear anything over the music, and this limited our conversation. Lane kept Sabine in his arms and they kissed frequently, making no attempt to be subtle. After a while, a slower number came on.

“Let’s dance,” said Sabine.

Lane led her toward the dance floor with an arm around her waist. However, she reached back, caught me by the hand and pulled me along too. Once on the floor, Lane put an arm around each of us, and Sabine did as well, so that the three of us were drawn in to a tight clinch. I tried to lean into Sabine and away from Lane. I had nothing against dancing close with a good-looking boy, but I did not know him at all. I tried to talk to him as we swiveled our way around the dance floor, but he just nodded and smiled at everything I said. He seemed much more interested in getting a hand up my skirt. Sabine already had a hand under my skirt, kneading one of my butt cheeks through my panties.

As soon as the number ended, I broke free saying, “I’d like another beer”, and headed back to the bar.

I had hard time getting the attention of the boy who was acting as the bartender. Lane and Sabine came up a moment later and he was able to get beers for all three of us immediately.

“It’s getting boring down here,” said Lane. “Let’s go up to my room – it’s more private and we can talk.”

“That sounds good,” I said.

He pushed his way to the stairs and we went up, stepping over or around numerous couples making out. At the top of the stairs we met another tall, strapping boy wearing shorts with his T-shirt draped over his shoulder. Like Lane, he had a finely muscled body and was quite aware of his display.

“Hi Parker,” said Lane. “These are Sabine and Johanna – the girls I was telling you about.” He turned to us. “Parker’s my roommate.”

Both Sabine and I said “Hi,” and Parker let us pass on. I thought I saw Lane and Parker exchange glances, but thought nothing of it at the time.

There was a bunk bed and two desks in Lane’s room. It had a nice wide window that looked out over the house’s front lawn. We sat on the lower bunk and sipped our beers. A short, uncomfortable silence rose and Lane filled it by chugging his beer and then taking Sabine in his arms again and kissing her. She set her beer down on the floor, kissed him back, and helped him to pull off her short top.

She wore a red lace strapless shelf bra and her firm breasts stood out proudly. Lane buried his face between them and cupped one in each hand.

“You’re a hot bitch, Sabine,” he breathed. “I can’t wait to get my cock in your mouth again.”

I moved away from them and continued to sip my beer. I tried to look out the window and away from them, but my eyes kept getting drawn back as to a magnet. It didn’t take much to free Sabine’s nipples from the minimal covering of her shelf bra and Lane sucked on them greedily. Then he used his teeth and nipped on them so sharply that she cried out, “Ow! That hurt!”

“All part of the service,” Lane growled.

My fists clenched. I drank the last of my beer, got off the bed and set the empty glass on one of the desks. There as sheathed hunting knife on a pile of books. By the time I turned around, Lane had his pants and underwear off. He hiked Sabine’s skirt up and she helped him strip of her red lace panties.

“Now suck my cock, Sabine,” he grunted. “You were great the last time.”

His friendly demeanor had vanished and he seemed cruder and much more aggressive. He put a hand in her blond mane and forced her face down. She opened her mouth and took his erection into her mouth. She acquiesced and held his sides as he arched his back and pushed. He groaned as she completely engulfed his organ, her face buried deeply in his crotch.

“Oh, you’re a dirty slut, Sabine! You like sucking cock, don’t you?”

He reached forward with his other hand and pushed his fingers between her bare butt cheeks. He sank his forefinger into her ass, causing her to choke and struggle for a moment, before she began to suck on him again. He worked his finger in her ass and she rotated it to accommodate him. I tried to look away again, but my eyes were irresistibly drawn back to the scene. She sucked on him strongly, making slurping and gulping sounds. She was clearly giving him a blowjob voluntarily, but every now and then, she struggled. He didn’t seem to have any tender feelings for her. He kept muttering, “I’m big, aren’t I? I’m stretching your throat, bitch! Choke on me!”

Maybe it was because the whole scene was so distressing to me or maybe Lane just had a lot of staying power, but it seemed to go for a long time. Eventually he came, and held her firmly, making sure his ejaculate went down her throat. Then he released her and sat back on the lower bunk.

Sabine wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and stood up. She smoothed down her skirt, and pulled the minimal cups of her shelf bra back up to cover her nipples.

“I need to gargle,” she said. “Where’s the washroom?”

“At the end of the hall,” said Lane.

“I’ll be right back,” said Sabine. “Johanna, take off your top and come sit with Lane. You should get to know him.”

I came over reluctantly and sat on the bunk bed. Sabine left wearing just her bra, skirt and high heels. I didn’t take off my top, but Lane did it for me. He kneaded my breasts through my black silk bra and kissed me, trying to push his tongue into my mouth. I kept my mouth closed and he immediately released me.

“What’s the matter, Johanna?”

“It’s all moving too fast for me, Lane,” I said.

“How can you say that? Sabine just gave me a blowjob, you were watching. You’ve had plenty of time.”

“We’ve hardly spoken, Lane.,” I said, putting my top back on.

“It’s a party, not a seminar, Johanna,” he said, laughing. “We’re here to have a threesome. Didn’t Sabine tell you?”

“No,” I said.

“Well, I’m telling you now. Though I must say, I’m disappointed. Sabine told me you’re a hot number, that we’d have this great threesome. But you’re not sexy at all. I’ll go through with it and fuck you though, as a favor to her.”

Sabine returned and sat on Lane’s other side. He put his arms around both of us.

“Why do you still have your top on, Johanna?” asked Sabine, breathing heavily as Lane kissed her throat.

“I’m not feeling well, Sabine,” I said, standing up. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

“Please, Johanna –” began Sabine.

“Let her go,” said Lane. “She’s got no tits, she’s prissy as a librarian. We’ll have a much better threesome with Parker.” Before Sabine could reply, he raised his voice and called out, “Parker! Get in here!”

The door opened immediately and Parker came in. He must have been waiting in the corridor. I let myself out and he closed the door behind me. I felt like a coward abandoning Sabine to the two well-muscled, aggressive boys, so I lingered in the corridor just outside their door. Several people passed me on their way to or from the bathroom that was at the end of the corridor, but I ignored everyone. I concentrated on listening to what I could hear of what was going on inside the room.

Almost immediately, I heard a resumption of the slurping and gulping sounds – I guessed Sabine was giving a blowjob to Parker. Moments passed and then there was the characteristic slapping and pounding sound of fucking, of flesh against flesh. It sounded like rough sex, not anything like making love. I felt much more worried than jealous. Sabine had always been the older one, the one who took charge of our lovemaking. But now she was clearly being used and I did not know if she was in control of the situation.

Then I heard characteristic sounds of hyperventilation, and Parker snarling, “Choke on me, bitch! Choke on my big cock!”

“Her cunt is a tight as vice, Parker!” Lane shouted. “You can have her next!”

I opened the door and rushed in. Sabine was on her knees on the bunk bed, Parker’s cock in her throat and Lane fucking her doggie style. One of her garters had come undone and the stocking was down around her knee. Just as I entered, they both began to cum, driving their loads into her. Sabine was covered with sweat and her body thrashed in their grip. The scene seemed to be in slow motion and to go on and on. But then both boys were done and withdrew their softening organs from her with grunts.

Sabine collapsed on to her stomach and lay there, panting.

“Just what you wanted, wasn’t it, you slut,” crowed Parker.

“It was hard sex,” mumbled Sabine. “But good … it was very good.”

“It’s my turn in your cunt next,” Parker said.

“Sabine,” I said. “Get your top and panties. We’re leaving.”

“Mind your own business, bitch!” shouted Lane. “She wants stay.”

“Yes, I want to stay, Johanna,” said Sabine. “Leave me alone.”

She clearly wanted me to go, but I didn’t think she looked happy. I picked up her panties and top from the floor, went over to the desk, and took the hunting knife out of its sheath. I returned, took Sabine’s arm and got her on her feet. She was unsteady on her heels.

“What do you think you’re doing?” asked Lane.

“We’re leaving,” I repeated.

“She said she doesn’t want to go,” said Parker rising.

“Exactly,” said Lane. “We would never keep her here against her will. Or force her to do anything she didn’t want to do.”

I pointed the hunting knife at them.

“Hey, that’s mine!” Parker said.

“I know how to use it,” I said. “I can gut a deer, you’d be easier. I’ll leave it downstairs.”

Sabine leaned on me as we left. Outside, I got her to put on her panties and top. Then we got our coats and left. I dropped the hunting knife on the house porch.

We walked slowly back to Sabine’s athletic dorm. I had my arm around her the whole way. We got to her room, took off our coats and sat on her bed. I put my arms around her and she finally began to cry, catching her breath in great big sobs.

“Hush, hush,” I said. “You’re with me, darling.”

“I gave them what they wanted,” she faltered. “And I wanted it as well. I don’t know why I’m crying.”