A Spring Bike Ride Gone Odd

We were still for some time, eyeing each other. Finally Rachel used the corner of my towel to clean me off.

"You know, I have always wanted to do that to Scott but never have."

"I suspect he would enjoy it," I answered a bit breathlessly. It was not hard to imagine her doing this to him. I wondered if I would end up getting a thank-you card from him.

We talked a little longer, but the afternoon was wearing on.

"Hate to fuck and run, but we have to go," said Rachel finally, trying to be light-hearted.

"Think you mean stroke and run," I said, with a bit of an edge. I had wanted to climax inside her.

I wasn't sure how I felt. My crotch felt fine, no trouble there. But my day had pretty much been taken away from me as soon as these two had stumbled upon my scene. I suppose each of us got something out of it all, but of vastly different import.

We put on our clothes silently, and I gathered up my stuff and turned to bid them farewell. I gave Maxine and kiss and a hug.

"Next time will be even better," I said, giving her ample rump a pat. "Always is."

She gave me a very broad smile. "Thanks Chad." Her fingers fidgeted. It was a little awkward.

Rachel gave me a hug and a long eager kiss, and opened her backpack. She pulled out her camera, popped open a side-cover and silently handed me the camera's memory card. At least that part was now settled. Or so I thought, as I took off on my bike down the trail, my mind racing, my groin warm and tingling.

I shuddered when I viewed the photos on my laptop back in my dorm room. Rachel had not quite been truthful. There were more than "a few" photos - more like two dozen. My penis was rock hard, my hands enthusiastic, my approaching pleasure quite obvious to anyone who would have seen the photos, my identity unmistakable.

I didn't find out until a couple years later, completely by accident and revealed by someone else, that her camera was a fancy enough model that it had slots for two memory cards. She had kept the second but given me an entirely false sense of trust by turning over the first.

With a sinking feeling and a sudden burst of anger and betrayal at this intelligence, I wondered then how many moments of entertainment I had unconsciously and unwittingly provided her and her friends over that interval.

It explained some of the looks I had occasionally gotten from some of the other female students, little smirks or amused half-smiles while they looked me up and down. I thought maybe they were just checking me out, but now it seems likely that there was more to it than that. But I never confronted her, it just didn't seem worth it at that stage.

Sally never found out, not to say I didn't spend a pile of time agonizing over it all, and in fact our relationship didn't even survive her first full year up at university, each of us eventually pairing up with someone else.

It turned out that Maxine was the daughter of a big-shot judge for the New York State Court of Appeals. I had tagged big-game offspring, but of course that kind of news can't be broadcast very well, and didn't actually ever do me any good in the status department. I never saw her again.

So the afternoon ended up being something like a wild dream, a little oasis of oddness, albeit one with tingling reminisces to my groin.

So what's the moral of this story? Don't fondle yourself when you think you're alone? If that was true, then masturbatory activities around the world would come to a grinding relentless halt. Either that or we would all turn into exhibitionists, which maybe wouldn't be so terrible.

I don't know. So many things in life come together at odd junctures and speeds. I wish the day didn't happen the way it did, but my penis still can get hard with the memory. You don't tend to forget the loss of a virginity, even one not your own.