Dave

OK, this will probably be boring to a lot of you, but it is my story. I was a really good student, and my parents had taught me discipline, so I was able to carry 20 to 22 units a semester as well as working part time. I also took at least one summer class every year. I had made a goal to graduate in less than 4-years. Those of you who have gone to college for a degree in engineering or science know what a load that was. To combat the mental stress, I had set up a home gym to work out. Physical stress will greatly reduce mental stress. I wasn't looking to become one of those muscle-bound jocks, but I did want to add a little mass and tone up.

I should probably describe myself at this point. I'm 6'1" tall, 225-pounds, in good shape, broad shoulders, washboard abs, strong legs and arms. I probably would look like a wide receiver or cornerback on a decent college football team. I have sandy blonde hair that I keep neat and cut above my ears, deep brown eyes, and a tanned, rugged looking face. I'm no model, but it seems as though the women find me more than slightly attractive. My preferred way of dressing is blue jeans, tee-shirt (not plain white), and plain brown cowboy boots. I will occasionally change it up by replacing the tee-shirt with a casual button-down shirt.

"Hey, Dave. Check it out. Steve is about to get his ass handed to him." Kenny said to me.

We were at the track on a nice summer Saturday afternoon. I had finished my summer class last week, and was relaxing before the Fall semester started. I wandered over to where the rest of the group was watching the track. I saw Steve's Challenger lined up beside a 1969 Pontiac GTO.

"So, who's the guy driving the GOAT?" I asked. It had been a few months since I had been at the track. My Spring and Summer classes had been a bitch.

"Shit, Dave. You really need to get out more. That ain't no guy. Her name is Gail O'Malley. She goes by her initials, GTO. Her middle name is Theresa"

'Interesting.' I thought. 'GTO drives a GTO.'

I watched as they did their burn-out, then staged. A few seconds later, the Christmas Tree flashed. She had awesome reflexes. I looked to see if she had jumped early, but the lights were clear. GODDAMN, that car was fast. Steve started behind, and kept losing ground. Note to self: STAY AWAY FROM HER! Steve ended up crossing the line three car lengths back.

"Son-of-a-bitch. Where did she come from, and how long has she been driving?" I asked.

"Her dad owns a shop in town. She's been working for him for years, and get this. She's only 17-years old!"

"Wow. How did she learn to drive like that?" I had to ask. After all, it was quite impressive that a 17-year old could keep control of a beast that powerful.

Steve snickered. "What I heard is that her dad found out that she had been going out in the evenings and finding suckers to race for Pinks, then lying to him about how she got the car. He figured it out after the fourth time and enrolled her in a driving course. He figured that she was going to race anyway, so she might as well do it on the track instead of the street."

My interest was piqued. Sure, she was just 17 and too young, but I was not really interested in dating her (or anything else, you perv). I just wanted to see who she was. It would be helpful to know what she looked like so I wouldn't be suckered into doing something stupid. I knew the name O'Malley. Her dad and my dad were not exactly friends, but more than just casual acquaintances. I didn't know that he had a daughter though. Hell, I think that I just met him once, years ago.

So, I watched as she pulled off the track and drove over to where she was set up. Yep, there was her dad, waiting for her. She got out still wearing her helmet. Her racing suit wasn't very flattering, but still showed a rather slim body and, what looked like, a rather generous bust. The helmet came off, and a mass of red hair spilled out. She was still too far away for me to get a really good look at her features, but what I did see indicated that she would be rather attractive. Anyway, I was not looking to ask her out or anything.

So, I began seeing her around the track. Up close she was really beautiful. She seemed to be more the tomboy type. When she wasn't racing, she always wore a tee-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. Never any make-up. Alright, I know what you're thinking. Sure, it was the track, and, of course, she wouldn't be dressing up or wearing a lot of make-up while racing or working on her car. That's true, but I had also heard from other guys that knew her off the track, and they pretty much said the same thing. No one had ever seen her in a dress or with make-up on. When I commented that I wouldn't mind taking her out on a date when she turned 18, I was shot down. Not by her, since I never actually talked to her, but every other guy that I knew. They all said the same thing. She doesn't date. A few of the guys had even offered expensive dinners and shows as the wager for a race, and she turned them down flat. There were rumors that she might be a lesbian too. Nope. Even the girls that were dared to try were flat rejected. She. Didn't. Date.

Over that year, I had worked and saved enough that the new engine I had been building over the last two years was finally done. I got a 396-CI engine, bored it out to a 402, and began assembling it. High compression pistons, forged crankshaft, heavy cam, balanced and blueprinted. I had to cut the hood of my car so the blower could stick out. Yeah, I would finally be running with the big dogs. I spent my spring break swapping out my old 350 with the new engine. Kim, my girlfriend for the past several months wasn't too happy about that. She wanted to go to Miami for the week to party. Looking back, we were really not a good match. Pretty much the only things we had in common were my great admiration of her sexy body and her love of my big cock and the multiple orgasms I could give her. Aside from that, she was a total bitch. Yeah, that's what thinking with the wrong head will do.

I had met Kim at one of those back-to-school parties that one of my friends talked me into going to. Since it was the very beginning of the semester, there wasn't a whole lot of homework or studying to do yet. I figured that going to the party wouldn't be that big of a deal at that time. I was actually enjoying myself, talking to some of the guys, drinking a few beers, watching the hilarity of a bunch of drunk college students going crazy, and checking out more than a few good-looking coeds. Then she arrived. Long brunette hair, slim, tight body, high cheek bones, slim, tapered nose, bright blue eyes, C-cup breasts stretching her tight halter top, long tanned legs sticking out of a pair of short cut-offs. Yep, little head took over the thinking.

"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I get you something to drink?" I asked as I moved in to greet her. Yeah, not very original, but I was a horney college student, and I've found that, a lot of the time, simple works best.

"Kim." She responded. "And a beer would work nicely, please."

I escorted her over to the keg and politely filled a cup for her. She thanked me with a smile, and we began talking. No real idea what exactly was said, but I do remember discussing classes, majors, professors, and that kind of stuff. She was an Art History major. Not exactly a profitable degree, and she really wasn't at the top of the class either, but -- DAMN SHE WAS HOT! My mind quickly pegged her as only being in college for her 'Mrs. Degree', or to put off 'Adulting' for a few more years. Still, it wouldn't be a horrible experience to have a bit of fun for a while.

For those of you that never went to college and those Liberal Arts majors out there wondering what exactly an 'Mrs. Degree' is, it is a term very well known to Engineering and Business Majors in college. Yes, I admit it, we are rather arrogant about it. We don't see any real value in liberal arts majors after they graduate. We joke about it a lot. "What do you say to a liberal arts graduate on your doorstep? Yes, I would like some packets of parmesan cheese and red pepper for my pizza." "What do you call the Career Counseling Center for the Liberal Arts Department? The Unemployment Line." Sorry if that offends you Liberal Arts Majors, but I'm just being honest here. That's exactly what us Engineering Majors think. So, seeing an attractive girl struggling in what we believe to be a basically worthless degree, our thinking is that she is really only going to college to land a guy in the engineering or business departments who will get a well-paying job upon graduation and marry him. In other words, she is looking to find a husband to take care of her for the rest of her life. Kim fit that profile to a 'T'.

But, as I said, Little Head was leading this eventual train wreck for now. We left the party and ended up in her dorm room. That first time had all the romance and tenderness of a Top Fuel drag race. There was none. Just two people stripping off their clothes and jumping into the bed with all possible speed. There was a slight delay for installing the condom (I'm young, horney, and buzzed, but I'm not stupid). Even though she was leaking like a faucet at that point, I still took it slow as I entered her. We had been making out before we left the party, and I had been playing with her tits all the way back to her room. God Damn, she was tight. It took all my will power not to unload before I had bottomed out inside her. I paused there to not only give her time to adjust to my cock, but also for me to regain control. After a minute, I began slowly pulling back, then pressing back in. Taking my time. I gradually increased the tempo. I felt her first orgasm as she moaned into my mouth as we kissed. It wasn't long after that when she clamped down on my cock for her second orgasm. That took me over the edge and I unloaded into my condom.

I rolled off of her, and we relaxed for a bit. Pulling off the condom and throwing it in the trash, I looked back at her. That's probably when I made my big mistake. What I SHOULD have done is what most guys would have done. Fucked her once, said a few pleasantries, get dressed, and go home. Unfortunately, Georgianne had taught me too well.

"You don't think we're done, do you?" I asked.

"Well...." She replied.

I crawled between her spread thighs and looked up into her eyes. "Not until I've licked every drop of juice from this peach." I responded as I lowered my face into her shaved pussy. I was prophetic about calling it a peach. Have you ever pulled out a peach from a box that was plucked at the peak of ripeness? You bite into it, and get that perfectly sweet flavor as the juice escapes and runs gown your chin? Yeah, that sensation. That pretty much describes what happened as I stuck my tongue into her warm, wet opening.

"Ohmygod. I heard you were good, but this is incredible." She moaned.

I continued to lick and tease for quite a while. I would bring her to the peak, then back off. I did that several more times. I knew that doing it that way would build her up to have a couple of massive orgasms. I always try to leave my partners totally satisfied. I finally decided it was time. I dove back in with gusto. Thrusting two fingers in and focusing my tongue on her clit, I was able to stimulate that magic spot inside her and bring her to three hard orgasms. I backed off and slowly brought her back down after she begged for mercy.

It was about 20-minutes before she recovered. Of course, she demanded to return the favor. Who was I to disagree? Yeah, she gave me a blow-job. Yes, I came in her mouth. Yes, she did swallow. Other than that. It was about average, at best. Sorry guys. I guess that I've been a bit spoiled. Most guys would probably have been ecstatic about it. The problem was, I had been the recipient of some truly historic blow-jobs, performed by some really talented women. My standards were set unusually high. Still, it was satisfying, and she did perform OK. Perhaps with some experience and a bit of instruction, she would improve. (That actually was the case).

I did ask her out again, and she accepted. A couple of weeks later, after a few more dates and more mind-blowing sex, we agreed to be exclusive. Although we had more than our fair share of arguments, mainly about the time I needed to study and the times that I was at the shop working on my car and at the track racing, we would always make up. I have to tell you guys; make-up sex is really phenomenal. I did introduce her to my family, and she was a regular attendee for the barbeques that my parents had. She also went with me to the track most of the time to cheer me on and watch me race.

I guess things started to go downhill over Spring Break. As I said, I used that week to swap out the engine in my Camaro. She did end up going to Miami with a few of her friends, so I didn't see her for the entire week. No, I didn't cheat on her. I don't do that. When I give my word or commitment, it doesn't get broken. That's just who I am, and I expect the same from those who give their word to me. I was exclusive with Kim, so I was not going to do anything with anyone else. Yeah, I worried a bit that she was out partying and possibly being tempted, but I wasn't going to dwell on it.

I was at the track again that Friday night and Saturday. I was running some test runs to fine tune the engine. Gail was there as well. Yeah, she was still faster than I was. I wasn't going to take her on for any reason. I still thought that she was beautiful, but unattainable. Word had gotten around to her that some guy had been bragging about having finally gone out on a date with her. I was there when she confronted him. You've heard all about the fiery temper that redheads have. This was a complete nuclear meltdown. I caught a glimpse of those green eyes as she strode over to the group he was standing in. I swear, there was a Category five hurricane swirling around in them. I have never seen someone so thoroughly emasculated over half an hour as he was. It was six months before he came back to the track after running away bawling his eyes out.

Kim got back on Sunday evening. We had a rather active, strenuous, and pleasurable reunion that lasted well into the night. Yes, she has significantly improved her blow-job technique by this time. That lasted about two weeks. There began a linear relationship between our arguments and sex. Arguments increased and sex decreased. She was tired of going to the track. She was irritated at the time that I needed for studying. (her time studying outside of class was pretty minimal. That probably explains why she was not in the top 40% of her major). She despised my Camaro, and she wanted me to get something newer. She began to pressure me to dress nicer. Lots of little things. Still, the sex (when we had it) was pretty good. Even so, there started to be doubts that were finally coming through from the big head.

I had just finished my last final exam for the semester. I only had one more fairly easy semester left before I graduated. This would be the first summer in three years that I wasn't going to take any classes. Three months of freedom from school. I hadn't made any plans with Kim for that night. She had mentioned something about hanging out with her roommate and some of their friends. I was planning on getting together with a few of my buddies and tying one on after having a brutal semester. He had a couple of kegs, lots of friends, and a spare room for me to crash in. I don't get drunk often, but tonight was going to be the exception. I really could use the destress from the previous months.

I had a couple of hours to kill before the party started, so I thought that I would go spend some time with my girlfriend. She lived in a Student Housing complex with a couple of roommates. I parked about a block away, because that was as close as I could get at that time. I had just turned the corner from one of the buildings to see Kim walking down her steps holding the hand of another guy. I froze for a couple of seconds in disbelief. What the fuck? I stepped back to shield myself from their view and watched. Sure enough, they made their way to a newer model BMW. I watched as she gave him a soul-searching kiss after he had opened the passenger door for her. I turned and ran back to my car as he was closing her door. She wants to cheat on me? Fine! I'll just toss her ass to the curb.

It wasn't hard to get behind them and follow. I was a couple of cars behind and just watching for my chance. I saw her lean over and give him a kiss a couple of times at red lights. Whatever feelings I had for her died then. I was kind of surprised at myself. I realized that I really wasn't feeling that bad. I guess my big head had begun asserting itself, and analyzing the relationship. We really didn't have a relationship except for the sex. OK, she had a phenomenal body and a great pussy, but there are literally millions of other women out there with the same traits. No great loss there. Still, she had betrayed me, and that required a bit of vengeance. I waited until I had my chance. It wasn't long in coming.

I was two cars behind them when the light turned red. I had anticipated that, so I was already in the right lane. I pulled up next to them. It was a nice evening out, so her window was down. She was completely focused on him, and about to lean over to give him another kiss when I spoke.

"Just a little information for you, man to man. If this stupid slut will cheat on me with you, you might want to think about who the whore will cheat on you with."

I really thought that her neck would break as her head spun around to see me. I almost broke out laughing at the look of complete shock on her face.

"Yes, she was my girlfriend until about 10 minutes ago when I found out she was cheating on me. Now, I don't care anymore. She's a cheating cunt and not worthy of my time. I suggest you fuck her all you want, but don't waste your time with emotional attachments. Cheaters will continue to cheat. Oh, and if you decide to ignore my advice on that, make sure you get an iron clad prenup."

Kim had just opened her mouth to say something when the light turned green. I never hear what it was as my tires were screaming as I launched across the intersection. I'm not going to sit here and lie to you. Yes, it hurt. She had cheated on me. She had lied to me. We had a relationship for 9-months. Sure, there were some bad times, but there were a lot of good times as well. Were we in love? Probably not. Were we in lust? Definitely! Still, it was an emotional relationship. No matter if it is love or not, it hurts when it is suddenly ripped apart.

I met up with my buddies later at the party. Kim was blowing up my phone with calls and text messages. I ignored her. I probably should have shut the phone off. But I didn't. It was a few hours later, after another text message came over that Jeremy asked me about it. It was rather obvious that I wasn't in a good mood, ad he had seen that the message was from Kim. He also saw my expression when I looked at the phone. I ended up telling him what had happened. Jeremy was from Boston, and he was trying to figure out the best way back home for the summer. The stars seemed to suddenly align for him, and he made his pitch. It really didn't take too long for me to come to a decision. I had nothing to tie me down here for the next couple of months, and I suddenly found myself single and fancy free. A temporary change of scenery seemed like a good idea. Informing my parents that I was off for a couple of months went well. Dad told me that I could easily have a few months off from the shop to get my head together. Besides, he understood that I would probably be leaving the shop once I graduated anyway. Two days later, Jeremy and I were loaded up and driving across the country in my Camaro.