First Day

All characters are 18 years of age or older. Copyright 2024. All rights reserved.

Author's note: Welcome to the little college town of Ballister! I hope you enjoy your stay. There are some things you ought to know.

First, this is a multi-part serial told from different points of view. Most of the story has been drafted—I'll publish parts as I revise them. If you care about the characters and/or the plot, the story will make the most sense if you start at the beginning. If you care most about the sex scenes, venture where you will as most parts include at least one.

Second, if you're wondering whether to invest the time, here's a compatibility test. Imagine the first season of "Stranger Things" before things got a little too strange. Then, transport the whole thing to a small private college, make all the characters of age, and replace most of the geeky stuff with sex. Sound interesting? Please proceed. Sound exciting? You might be the target audience. Don't know "Stranger Things" but like speculative fiction? Give it a shot.

Lastly, I welcome comments and compliments. I wrote this to see if I could. I did not write this to correspond to your favorite kink (reminder: this is free). That said, if you'd like to read a scene I haven't written, let me know. I'm always up for a challenge. Enjoy! ----------

"Oooh, yes, you're so big, daddy, yes, ohmigod yes!"

The girl, Marissa—or was it Melissa—screamed as Marco plunged his cock into her soaking pussy.

Fuck, he was bored. Marissa—maybe it was Marsha?—had been the third girl to throw herself at him that evening. Third wasn't the charm. He'd taken her (Misty?) back to his apartment mostly to stop being harassed.

Okay, he'd been horny. But then he'd done what he always did: brought a gushingly willing girl home, listened to her inane attempts at conversation—as if this were a date and not a one-night thing—and then rutted her senseless.

He didn't even have a daddy fetish. The rumor had worked its way through Ballister College until every girl for the past two weeks had made sure to scream it.

"Oooooh, yes. Daddy fucks me so goooooood!"

He needed this to be over. Marco flipped the girl on to her stomach and grabbed her by the hair, wrenching her into a backbend while ramming her full of dick. He grabbed her throat and growled.

"Cum on my cock."

She did. Just like "daddy" ordered. "Daddy!" she wailed. "Daddy!"

Frustrated, Marco snapped his hips, slamming his dick a bit deeper, cutting the girl's daddy mantra short. She screamed, instead, orgasm intensifying. Marco pulled free of her convulsing pussy and came on her back, the pleasure of his climax mixed with a sense of relief that the night was nearly over.

A cuddle was off the table. Only the best got to stay the night, and he hadn't been with the best in a long while. Marco watched from the living room as the girl walked—stumbled really—through the entryway to the door. She turned and gave him what she probably thought was a sexy farewell smile, but her disheveled hair and running mascara made her appear more like a sad clown in a nice dress. Her wistful pirouette knocked her further off balance, and she bounced off the door frame to nearly crumple in the hallway. The door closed before Marco could see whether she managed to right herself.

Marco threw himself into the Italian leather sofa and sighed. He was back at college about to begin a sophomore year...but he wasn't really a sophomore. He'd started college three years ago as a freshman, but his father had taken him out of school to help with the family business. Though Marco was only a couple years older than most of his peers, the time away had made it feel like a decade. Two years had changed everything: his outlook, his interests. He'd even grown, a late spurt that had been as painful as it had been unexpected.

Marco stood and stretched his big 6-foot, 4-inch frame. He wandered into the kitchen. Some effects of the growth had lingered. For one, he was hungry all the time now and not just for food. At 230 pounds, his broad frame carried a lot of muscle, so he needed a lot of calories...and a lot of exercise. At least he'd managed a little cardio this evening. Every little bit counted.

Marco gazed into his refrigerator, the harsh white light giving his chiseled face a sickly appearance. His perusal of the contents brought a forlorn expression. The appliance was virtually empty: just a couple of beers, a few protein shakes, and a sad looking bag of baby carrots. He grunted and shut the door.

Marco had fallen into a rut, a routine that might last three more years if he wasn't careful. Could he really spend those years hanging with college bros and screwing college chicks? Talk about boring—he needed someone or something to spice things up. His love life was lively, sure, but that was all he could say for it. A decadent August had given him quite the reputation, but he couldn't remember the last time a girl had really caught his attention. None of the sex had been bad, mind you. Marco didn't do anything passably. The girls of August would undoubtedly come calling again. No, the problem was the sameness of it all: the deliberate enticement, the overwrought enthusiasm, the obvious manipulation. He didn't want to play the same old games.

Marco looked through a couple cupboards. There was nothing worth eating. Better to go to bed; he'd grab some groceries after his morning workout.

His true hunger was for something real, something challenging. At least he had football. His size and athleticism had earned him a new position: starting quarterback of Ballister College's championship football team. It hadn't been hard—two years of his father's training regimen had done him wonders. His strength and agility had easily trounced the competition. Though, the more he thought about it, that might be part of the problem. He was just better than everyone. The football season had better be challenging, or he'd really be bored.

At least classes started tomorrow. At least the season would start soon. Maybe there would be someone different. Someone real, someone challenging—that's what he needed. Someone who grabbed his attention.

A rueful smile played across Marco's face as he pulled the covers over his naked body. His attention...it might be a good thing no one had caught it. He was, after all, very hungry.

***

"We're so pleased to have such a promising group of pathways students this year," gushed Libby Clinton, Dean of Students. She gazed around the breakfast table with a dazzling smile that managed to appear both easy and forced.

Samantha Telnor fiddled with her fork, uncertain, and tried a smile of her own. She could feel her lips curving, but as Clinton's gaze swept past her, her expression wavered. Sam coughed and covered her mouth with a napkin. She glanced around the table to see if anyone had noticed.

There were four other newly-minted freshmen around the table, all children of town residents. Each year Ballister College admitted a few local high school graduates to build goodwill and "links with the community," as Sam's acceptance letter had put it. Sam didn't care much about goodwill or links—she was interested in the program's full scholarship.

Only one of the other freshmen came from her side of town. Sam had gone to East Ballister High School, the run-down public school on the other side of the literal railroad tracks.

Maybe he was why she was so nervous. Sam had known Alec Cadell since elementary school. For most of her education he had been a year ahead of her in school. Two years ago he'd been suspended for some prank that had ended with a girl in the hospital. The town rumor mill hinted at something sordid and sexual, but like many small town rumors there were a dozen different versions. Sam had no idea what had really happened, but it must have been pretty bad for East Ballister High to have suspended its most promising athlete for an entire academic year.

Sam wished Alec's dubious past had also suspended her feelings for him. The tall, well built young man had animated Sam's late night fantasies for as long as she could remember being interested in boys. She'd even gone out of her way between classes to walk the hallway where Alec's locker was located. He'd never shown the slightest interest in her, though, and even now seemed more intent on wolfing down half a plate of bacon than paying her any attention.

The other three local students had graduated from West Ballister High School, the school built adjacent to the college. West Ballister catered mainly to the town's wealthier residents and college faculty. They were strangers to Sam. Across the table from her sat Clyde. A slight young man with glasses, Sam suspected he had earned his place in the program because of academics, like her. He was clearly very shy and unused to these kinds of social gatherings, but Sam had noted a bright intelligence in his brown eyes. Next to him sat Julie Haynes. Sam knew her last name only because she'd written it in prominent block letters on her name tag. She was nearly as small a woman as Sam but very sturdy looking. Julie had made it clear from her short introduction why she was there: Ballister's gymnastics team.

The third student from West was a statuesque blonde named Brittany. Sam had no reason to dislike her but for the fact that she had spent most of the breakfast staring at Alec. Brittany looked and smelled and acted rich, which annoyed Sam, since the pathways program was one of the few ways someone living on her side of town could access a school like Ballister. Still, she had to admit that Alec and Brittany would make a fine-looking couple: they were both tall and blonde. They could pass as Scandinavian models and sell reindeer sweaters together.

"...with so many new services available to students and now you can make appointments on the Internet. So convenient!" Dean Clinton finished another of her little speeches with a breathless flourish. The dean had said at the start of breakfast that she wanted to learn about them but had spent most of the time talking.

Once the awkward breakfast was over, Sam collected her things and stepped from the administration building into the bright morning sunlight. Before her were the opulent grounds of one of the nation's foremost private colleges. Sam marveled at the well manicured lawns and flower beds. Students wandered between pristine buildings, some alone, most in small groups. To Sam's eye, they all looked better than her: new clothes, fancy shoes, perfect hair. She might be the only scholarship kid in sight.

"Crazy," a deep voice said next to her.

Sam jumped.

"Sorry," Alec said. No, she was not the only scholarship kid. Alec was another.

"It's okay." Sam chided herself while trying not to notice Alec's handsomeness. God, he was beautiful. And, he was talking to her...for perhaps the first time ever! Why was her heart beating so fast?

"Never thought I'd end up here," Alec said.

"Me neither," Sam admitted. Was he looking at her chest?

A rueful smile appeared on Alec's lips as his eyes rose to her own. "My brother made me apply."

"Your brother in the Marines?"

One corner of Alec's lips twitched upward, and Sam chided herself again. She'd just revealed the depth of her obsession. He continued, though, without letting on.

"He didn't want me signing up. He's in Afghanistan."

Sam nodded, suddenly unsure what to say. The invasion was nearly a year old. Already there was talk of another war.

"What's your first class?" Alec asked, changing the subject. His eyes traveled. Alec Cadell was checking her out!

"Calculus." Alec made a face, so Sam added, "then writing."

"Cool."

"What about you?"

"Astronomy." Alec grinned at Sam's look of surprise. Sam felt her diaphragm drop into her toes. So insanely handsome. "Guys on the team told me it was easy. Most of my day is practice."

"Football?"

Alec nodded. "And basketball. Probably won't be able to do both, but we'll see."

"Wow," Sam said.

Alec laughed. "Guess we're both in for a challenge." He eyed her again, not even trying to be subtle. "See ya 'round."

Sam watched as Alec hefted his skateboard and trotted down the steps. He slung the board smoothly before his waiting feet, hopped aboard, and sped away. Wow.

Sam shook her head in disbelief. Alec had talked to her. No, more than that, he'd been blatantly checking her out! That was just...crazy. Sure, like her mom she was a late bloomer and had filled out some in the past year, but still. Crazy! And, of course, all she could say was "wow." How lame.

Sam sighed. She needed to get to class. Walking across campus felt like wandering through another world. Ballister College's campus was huge, despite the relatively small size of its student body. Generation upon generation of wealthy alumni had filled the school's coffers. There were specialized science labs, engineering buildings, libraries, and athletic facilities. Most people in town knew the school for those athletic facilities, especially the ones for football, but Sam could care less about the stadiums and pools. She was here for the academics and, let's be real, for the scholarship. Her family's financial situation had almost certainly been one of the reasons she'd been selected. The child of a single mother who was a local business owner held a certain appeal.

Sam walked past a line of folding tables. A pair of well-dressed college girls were taping a large banner emblazoned with Greek letters to the front of one. Then, there was that. Ballister's reputation as a sports mecca barely eclipsed its other reputation as a party school. Sam swept past the pair without another glance. She wasn't here to socialize and party, and besides, her scholarship didn't include housing expenses. She'd be catching a town bus back home every afternoon after classes.

A couple wrong turns later, Sam stood before the airy, modern palace of learning that housed the Mathematics Department. The high school she and Alec had attended looked like a run-down shack by comparison. Sam's earlier confidence began to slip as she wandered the halls looking for her calculus classroom. Her mom's store was profitable, but it only provided enough for the basics. She'd chosen a cream-colored blouse and her best pair of jeans for her first day, but her choices now seemed dowdy and plain compared to the designer clothing everyone else was wearing.

No, she reminded herself, she wasn't here for that. No sports, no parties, no fancy clothes. She had kept a small, close circle of friends in high school and would be fine with the same here. She was at Ballister College to become a doctor. That was her dream.

She eventually found the lecture hall. It was huge with tiered seating. The professor was a bit dry in her presentation but organized. Sam loved math and wasn't bothered. The huge space was daunting-her high school hadn't had rooms like these-but she could easily follow the initial lesson.

Sam's next class took her to the English Department. Housed in an older edifice, the building's stone stairs showed grooves from years of treading feet, and the whole place smelled a bit like musty books. She found the small classroom easily. A few narrow tables were arranged in a long rectangle. Sam was early, so she had her pick of seats. She chose one at a corner and pulled out her calculus syllabus to review.

It wasn't long before the other students arrived. Sam frowned. A bevy of Ballister beauties claimed seats on the long side of the rectangle opposite Sam. The six had arrived together and each seemed made of glass: perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect clothing. Sam grew uneasy; the women seemed to be prepared more for a pageant than a class.

A shout drew her eyes to the doorway and a group of young men entered, every single one of them tall and athletic. The elaborate preparations of the women started to make sense. Somehow she'd ended up in a class full of jocks and the girls who wanted to marry them. Great.

Still, she found herself appraising the beautiful men sidling into the room; they were nearly all alluring, a couple strikingly so. One of the really attractive guys was like an older, slimmer Alec—a tall, lean blonde with gorgeous blue eyes. He caught her staring and winked. Sam flushed and returned to her calculus syllabus. She'd had some fantasies about meeting an older, college guy, but they were only fantasies...right? As the men filed in around her, Sam realized the seminar room had divided based on gender—and she was on the wrong side of the room.

A moment later, the professor arrived, an older gentlemen with a short gray beard and bright eyes. He greeted the class and began drawing items from his leather case. Once he was about settled, a final student stepped over the threshold.

Sam became aware of a strange hush in the room and looked up from her papers. She looked first at the professor, who had stopped cold with a folder halfway out of his bag. Then she looked at the doorway, and her jaw nearly hit the floor.

Holy shit. Correction: holy fucking shit.

The guy, no, the man, the amazing man, the amazing incredible man standing just inside the doorway was the most beautiful human Sam had ever seen. So stunned was her conscious mind that she could only process one aspect of his appearance at a time.

Tall. Broad. Big. Muscular. Gorgeous. Stupendously Gorgeous.

His size and build reminded her of the actor who played that Norwegian hammer hero person. But not blonde. Dark features. Except eyes. Green eyes. So intense. Oh god, so intense.

Sam realized her mouth was hanging open and shut it. He couldn't be real—there was no way a man could be that attractive. She'd thought Alec was handsome; this guy made Alec look part troll. As her mind struggled, the rest of Sam responded, not caring whether he was real or a figment of her imagination. Her nipples hardened. Heat and moisture gathered between her thighs. Her breath came in short gasps. Her pussy seemed to be fluttering, actually fluttering, with excitement. She was across a room from a man she'd never met, and the mere sight of him was making her hot.

The professor returned to his preparations, saying in greeting, "If it isn't Marco Panatta. It's good to see Ballister's new quarterback taking an interest in good writing."

So that's who he was...and why he was so, well, big. And why the only other girls in the class seemed to have arrived directly from a Victoria Secret catalog.

The graceful way Marco navigated the room surprised Sam. Was he a dancer? The thought was absurd; no one needed those shoulders and arms—god, look at his arms—for dancing. Anyway, the only seat left was on the short side of the rectangle between the professor and the blonde guy. The strapping, beautiful man took the open seat there, which made paying attention to the instructor rather hard for Sam. Her eyes seemed to slide off the older man to linger on the quarterback's broad shoulders and prominent chest and strong jawline and...dammit, she had to get control of herself. Sam looked down the line of women. They were also looking at Marco. Several were craning their necks like overly made-up swans hunting up their favored pondweed.

The instructor introduced himself as Professor Ellard and went around the room asking students their names and favorite pieces of writing. He started with the bevy of beauties who took the opportunity to flutter eyelashes and stare unabashedly at the quarterback and his handsome, athletic friends. Gross. Unsurprisingly, their knowledge of literature seemed fairly superficial. Then came the first few jocks, who were, also unsurprisingly, about the same.

Then Ellard called on the blonde guy who had winked at Sam. He introduced himself as Kyle and bestowed on the class a stunningly charming smile. He mentioned something about the swim team, as if to remind everyone that there were sports other than football. Then, to Sam's great amazement, he leaned forward and quoted the last lines of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, ending with, "So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."