Girl Inside

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual behavior are at least eighteen years of age.

*****

Cyril Armstrong had wanted to get as far away from Oldenburg, Arkansas as he could. When he and the guidance counselor of his high school had sat down to go over where Cyril would like to go to college that was exactly what Cyril had told her.

"Just get me the hell out of here," he said.

Mrs. Buckmeyer had smiled a sympathetic smile. She knew that the boy had suffered horribly at the hands of his fellow classmates. There was little the staff could do to protect their students, though. The staff had to actually witness an assault, and that assault had to occur on school property for them to intervene.

Cyril's bullies waited three blocks away from campus. Then they'd corner the hapless boy, shove him around, taunt him about his mother, the town drunk, then when they got tired of shoving him, one or two would pummel him.

Cyril wasn't a bad looking boy, just needed to take better care of his skin, wash his hair with a better shampoo.

But Mrs. Buckmeyer knew, Cyril's mother, Michelle Armstrong was more concerned about getting herself a fifth of gin than in getting her boy some acne treatment soap, some shampoo for oily hair.

His 5.0 GPA was another reason the bullies tormented him. Being in all advanced classes, many of the universities and colleges in Arkansas had vied for Cyril's attention.

But the University of Louisiana at DeGarde had offered Cyril a full academic scholarship, plus a stipend for living expenses. And, none of the other students were planning on attending U.L.D.

"We have a winner," Cyril had said. "See if you can get me in the summer semester, huh?"

Chapter 1

And Cyril had loved DeGarde, Louisiana the moment he stepped off the bus at the DeGarde Inn. He'd walked into the lobby of the motel to ask the woman behind the counter where the U.L.D. campus was.

"Sure Sugar, it's just seven blocks that way," she had smiled, pointing.

Then she saw his footlocker.

"Aw, but you ain't walking there," she said. "Not in this heat."

"Hey, Rocky!" she called out. "You getting off in twenty, right?"

"Yeah," a young man agreed. "Why?"

"Kid's going to U.L.D.; you give him a ride?" the clerk said.

"Yeah, going to Sharp Shire? Or Administration?" Rocky asked.

"Uh, I guess Administration," Cyril said, pulling out the letter. "No, no, Coolidge Hall."

"Know right where that is," Rocky smiled. "Park it; I'll come get you minute I'm ready."

"Thank you," Cyril said to the young woman and she waved off his thanks.

At Coolidge Hall, Rocky even helped Cyril carry his heavy footlocker to the office of Ms. Lopez, Cyril's Student Advisor, and refused Cyril's offer of a couple of bucks.

"Hey, Ms. Lopez, how you doing?" Rocky greeted the attractive Latin woman.

"Harvey, how you doing?" the woman smiled.

"Harvey?" Cyril asked.

"See why I go by Rocky?" Rocky smiled, clapped Cyril on the back and left.

The student population was rather sparse for the summer semester so Cyril had his very own dorm room on the fourth floor of Sharp Shire Hall. The two football players that Ms. Lopez pressed into assisting Cyril lightly slapped him on the back and wished him a good semester.

"Thanks guys," Cyril said and they just smiled and left him to unpack.

The care package Mrs. Buckmeyer had packed for him contained the much needed soap and shampoo, along with a note wishing him well.

Three days later, the semester officially began and Cyril absolutely loved University Life.

He'd managed to test out of Algebra, freshmen English and the 100 History classes.

In Sociology 115, he sat next to a cute red head, and instead of looking annoyed that 'Cyril the Loser' was sitting next to her, actually turned and smiled.

"Hey, I'm Sam," she said.

"Um, Cyril," he said and they shook hands.

"You not from here, huh?" she smiled. "That's some accent you got yeah."

He told her where he was from and she smiled, delighted.

"Knew it!" she laughed. "Me? Grew up right here; I'm a Duvalier, so my whole family's pretty much from right here."

The teacher came in, smiled at the small group and started on his rapid fire delivery.

"Man, need slow down yeah," Sam told the man and he stopped, stared at her, then actually smiled.

"Man, need get you a tape recorder yeah," he said.

"I can't believe you said that!" Cyril laughed as they prepared to leave the class.

Sam just smiled and shrugged.

"So what class you got next?" Cyril asked as they walked out into the overbearing heat and humidity of Southwest Louisiana.

"World Economics; you?" she said, flinging her shoulder length red hair back out of her eyes.

"Uh, Calculus," he said.

"Calculus; you understand any of that?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's not as hard as most people think," he said.

"Dude, hate you, yeah," another boy said as both he and Cyril watched Sam's cute ass bounce as she ran toward Gilbert Hall.

Cyril just laughed.

"Man, I love U.L.D.," he thought as he jogged to get to his Calculus class.

"Boy, slow down, too hot be running like that," the teacher said as a sweating Cyril took his seat.

The next day, he sat in the same seat, hoping Sam would sit next to him again. The cute red head entered the classroom, looked around, and then smiled broadly when she saw Cyril.

"Hey," she said, sitting next to him.

She wore a halter top over her small chest, displaying a soft, pale belly, and cutoff jeans that showed her pale legs.

"You get a tape recorder?" the teacher asked, smiling.

Sam just shook her head and the man shrugged.

"See you tomorrow," Sam said cheerfully as she scampered to Gilbert Hall.

"Dude, seriously, how'd you do that?" the same boy asked as they watched Sam's sweet looking ass undulate away.

"Do what?" Cyril asked.

"Just go up and talk to her like that," the young man asked.

"Don't know," Cyril said honestly.

The young man smiled and the two boys high-fived.

"So, what you doing this weekend?" Sam asked on Thursday.

Classes for the summer semester met Monday through Thursday.

"Damn, I don't know, study, I guess," Cyril admitted.

"Here; here's my phone number," Sam said, giving Cyril a scrap of paper she'd torn out of her notebook. "You going be studying this stuff need call me yeah."

"That is it, Dude, you are my idol," Jackie, Cyril's buddy said.

It took every ounce of courage Cyril had to walk down the hall to the pay phone, drop in the thirty five cents, and punch in the number.

"Hey, thought you wasn't going call me no," Sam's thick Cajun accent came through loud and clear.

The first few minutes, Cyril stuttered and stammered through their conversation.

After a few moments, though, her bubbly friendliness had relaxed him and they chatted.

"Oh, hey, you like barbeque?" she suddenly asked.

"Bar... Yeah, I like barbeque," Cyril admitted.

"You in Sharp Shire, right? I be right there," Sam said.

Cyril didn't know what to do; he'd never been on a date before. But, he did have enough sense to know to go brush his teeth, then go downstairs and sign out.

"Cyril!" Sam called out from a pickup truck and Cyril smiled and got into the passenger seat.

"We going Cowboy's yeah," Sam chattered cheerfully. "They got thirty different malts and I done only got through eighteen of them."

"I uh, um, listen I uh, I don't got a whole lot of money here," Cyril admitted as she raced down Highway 19.

"That's all right; I'm one asked you out, I'm paying yeah," she said easily.

At the restaurant, she took his arm in both of hers and wrapped her arms around his arm. This pushed his arm in between her two small breasts and pushed his hand on her smooth thigh.

She smiled up at him. He tried so hard to make his own face smile, but was just too nervous.

The hostess seated them and Sam pointed out the malts on the back cover.

"I'm going alphabetical yeah," she said. "So I'm doing Mocha tonight."

"So, uh, what's your favorite so far?" Cyril asked, scanning the list.

"Caramel apple," Sam said.

"What was the grape like?" Cyril asked.

"Kind of yucky, yeah; taste like they just put a bunch of grape jelly in there," Sam admitted.

Cyril decided he'd have to go alphabetical and ordered the Amaretto to go with his pulled pork sandwich and fried jalapenos.

"Listen, this our first date," Sam said as they stepped out into the twilight. "I know you wanting go to The Basin, but that ain't happening no."

"The Basin?" Cyril asked.

"Oh, yeah, that right, you new here," Sam smiled as she paused by her pickup truck.

She wrapped an arm around his waist, peering up into his golden eyes.

"That's the make-out place," she explained.

She leaned up and kissed him softly on his lips.

"And I want to make out yeah, but this our first date so I'm just take you back to Sharp Shire, okay?" she said.

At his dorm, she told him to go grab his Sociology textbook and notebook and meet her on the second floor of the library.

They studied until a student worker told them the library was closing.

"I like you yeah, you smart and cute too," she said as she held his hand.

"And you're fucking gorgeous," he blurted out and she laughed happily.

Outside of Sharp Shire, Cyril got his very first French kiss and almost blew a load into his briefs as Sam molded her body against him.

"Bye," she laughed, kissed him again, then strolled to her pickup truck.

Cyril gave his cock brush burns over the weekend. He and Sam chatted a few more times on the phone, but did not see each other again until Monday.

He and his new buddy, Jackie Vinings, the young man that also lusted after Sam, did hang out. Jackie was also a resident of Sharp Shire, so he and Cyril mostly hung out in Jackie's room. Jackie had a good stereo system, and both he and Jackie agreed, Country was the best music.

"My older brother? Dude, listens to nothing but metal," Jackie made a face.

"What a knob," Cyril agreed.

Over the Fourth of July, Sam invited both Jackie and Cyril to her mother's for grilling and fireworks.

"Said she's got a cousin you might like," Cyril hinted.

Sam's cousin, Terri, did seem very nice, but Jackie and Terri simply did not have any sparks between them.

Mrs. Duvalier was a red head, just like Sam, had a few more freckles, much larger chest, and as wide a smile as Sam. And had a lot of questions for Cyril.

Despite his misgivings, Cyril was honest with Wendy. His mother was the town drunk, living off of Social Security Disability. He had no idea who his father was; his mother didn't either. Home for the past eighteen and a half years had been a dilapidated trailer.

"Well, we all got to start somewhere," Wendy said.

At nightfall, they split open a watermelon that Terri had spiked with ever clear, and giggling drunk, Sam and Cyril made out, getting quite hot and bothered. Jackie and Terri did sneak off for a few minutes. Sparks or not, they were both in the mood to fuck and did fuck.

But every time Cyril tried to progress past Sam's breasts, she gently but firmly stopped him.

"I want to yeah, but it ain't a good time no," she whispered in his ear.

But she did give Cyril his first blow job. She cooed happily at the sight of his fat six inches and tested the weight of his heavy balls in her small hand.

Then she bent and slowly, softly licked her pink tongue around the head of his cock. She then batted the sensitive head with her tongue before again slowly licking around where his cock head flared out.

Then she slowly sank her mouth down. Three inches disappeared into her hot, wet mouth, then she backed off until just the head of his cock was in her mouth. Four inches slid into her hot sucking mouth, then she again back off until just the head of his cock was still in her wet mouth.

"Sam, I'm about to..." he warned as she pinched and twisted the base of his cock.

"No," she husked in his ear. "I'm enjoying my first blow job too much."

Then she started the whole maddening process all over again.

When she finally did let him come, he swore he would pass out from the sheer ecstasy of it all.

He was too inexperienced to know he should have been disgusted to kiss her afterward. He didn't know, though, and happily kissed her and played with her B cup breasts.

The day after, Sam, Terri and Cyril went to the Acadiana Mall in Lafayette, Louisiana. On the drive there, Sam and Cyril sat in the back seat of Terri's car.

"You said you didn't know who your daddy is," Sam asked Cyril.

"Yeah, well, my momma said she thinks it might have been Sheriff Boswell; he'd arrested her for drunk and disorderly and came and visited her in lock up a couple of times," Cyril admitted.

"I wish I didn't know who my daddy is," Sam said with a hard tinge to her voice.

"Sam that ain't right no," Terri said. "He come around; just take some getting used to yeah."

"Been five years, how long it take?" Sam asked.

Terri didn't answer.

"Saints in the Super Bowl," Sam said, sadness creeping in. "Me and him, we going watch them, Who Dat? And I'm let my daddy see who I am and I come out in my cheerleader outfit and he don't say nothing and I'm thinking 'man, this done went better than I think it going go' and I'm so happy I'm almost crying. Then at half time he say, 'little joke over, go get changed yeah.'"

Sam looked out the window at the passing greenery. Cyril hugged her and she turned and smiled softly at him.

"And I just go to my room and I'm crying and he and my momma, they get into it, hooey! They yelling and screaming but I get my pajamas on and I come back in and Momma just walk off and Daddy don't say nothing rest of the game," Sam finished her story.

Cyril didn't understand any of what Sam had just told him, but he hugged her tightly.

At the mall, they spent far too much time at cosmetics and perfume counters. Sam kept having him smell this perfume or that one, until Cyril just couldn't smell anything.

Over his objections, Sam bought him a shirt and a pair of jeans, and some better tennis shoes to replace the ragged ones he wore.

"Let her; you her first boyfriend," Terri hissed, smiling up at Cyril. "You tall yeah, how tall you is?"

"I'm six one," Cyril said. "Why? How tall you is?"

"Me, I ain't but five foot," Terri laughed, then pinched him. "But big things come in little boxes."

"You stealing my man, I pile one on you yeah," Sam warned her cousin.

Chapter 2

First week of August, the semester came to an end. Cyril had to find somewhere to go for two weeks and dreaded the thought of going home, of being away from Sam.

"I'm be at my Daddy's and I know he ain't let you come too," Sam said sadly.

"But Cyril, instead of having to lug that footlocker back and forth, you just leave it here yeah," Wendy suggested.

The eleven hour bus ride from DeGarde to Oldenburg was a grueling one, but finally, Cyril arrived at the Pak-N-Sak, the convenience store that served as the Greyhound terminal.

"There's my boy, damn, hardly recognized you," his mother wobbled, reeking to high heaven of cheap alcohol.

But, remembering Sam's story about her father, Cyril was able to have some compassion for his mother. He didn't have to worry about putting on airs, putting on any façade around her. She wasn't perfect, but she loved him and never seemed to be ashamed or disappointed in him.

Cyril used the pay phone and called Mrs. Duvalier's phone, collect. When Mrs. Duvalier heard 'Will you accept the charges from "I'm here safe and sound"' she smiled and hung up.

"Cyril's home, safe and sound," she told Sam. "Now, come on, let's finish packing. It's only for a few days then you be home."

Sam nodded, pulled a baseball cap on over her shoulder length red hair, and stuffed some more blue jeans into her suitcase.

The two weeks dragged on for a lifetime, but finally, Cyril stood outside the Pak-N-Sak, ticket in one hand, battered old suitcase with a few more clothes, including some fall and winter clothing in the other hand.

"Love you, baby boy," Michelle said, already drunk, even though it was only nine thirty in the morning.

"Love you too, Mom," Cyril said, meaning it.

He'd gone to see Mrs. Buckmeyer. That had been the highlight of his trip home. The woman had been so happy to see her former student; she told him, out of the three hundred or so students that had roamed the halls of the high school, he was the very first one that had ever come to see her after graduating.

She had smiled a genuine smile of happiness when he told her how wonderful U.L.D. was. She laughed and clapped her hands when he told her about Sam, his sweet little red headed girl.

Mr. Buckmeyer was a short, barrel-shaped man that had smiled and warmly shaken Cyril's hand.

"Thank you, son," he said. "Now I know, she ain't going be able shut up about 'that student come see me' for at least a month."

"Oh, hush," Mrs. Buckmeyer said, eyes shining.

Cyril could imagine him and Sam playfully bickering like that when they were in their forties or fifties; he had no idea how old the Buckmeyers were.

Now, standing outside of the convenience store, Cyril smiled at his mother.

"You take care now," Michelle said when the bus ground to a halt.

"You too Mom," Cyril said.

At eight forty seven that evening, the bus ground to a halt outside of the DeGarde Inn, and Cyril smiled as he saw Sam standing, waiting. She had on a short jean skirt and a pink tank top and her ever present pink flip flops.

"There he is!" Cyril heard her squeal as he was the lone person disembarking in DeGarde.

The bus driver chuckled as Cyril almost toppled over from Sam slamming into him.

"I don't think she missed you at all," he said, smiling.

"No, don't look like it, huh?" Cyril chuckled too as he took his suitcase from the man.

"I missed you yeah," she said and kissed him again.

"Missed you too, Sweetheart," Cyril said.

"Come on; I still got three more malts ain't had yet," Sam demanded, dragging him to her truck.

She declared the Spearmint to be okay, not great, just okay, and Cyril agreed, the grape malt really tasted like they took Vanilla and dumped some Grape jelly into it.

Then Sam drove back to her house.

Wendy also hugged Cyril and kissed him, directly on his lips and directed him to their guest room.

"Oh but I got plenty of room in..." Sam coyly suggested.

"Uh, no ma'am," Wendy said.

"But supposed I get scared in the middle of the night?" Cyril suggested. "I mean, this is a big old house and..."

"Then you sit there and hide under the covers and shake until morning," Wendy said, unamused as the two eighteen year olds laughed.

"Thank you, Momma," Sam said after Cyril had gone to bed; it had been a long day for him.

"Baby, you welcome," Wendy said. "But you know, sooner or later, you going have tell him yeah."

"Later," Sam decided.

"Sam, that ain't right no," Wendy said. "You making that boy fall in love with you. How you feel someone do that to you?"

"But suppose he hate me?" Sam asked.

"He hate you a lot more you don't tell him," Wendy pointed out.

They had Political Science and Biology together; she was taking twelve hours that semester, but Cyril was taking fifteen hours.

For whatever reason, Jackie did not return to school, so Cyril did not have his buddy a Sharp Shire. He did have a roommate this semester, Manuel Rodriguez. The boy was quiet, polite, and gave Cyril plenty of space.

Chapter 3

Three weeks into the new semester, Sam called Cyril on the cell phone she'd bought for him. Cyril had protested against the purchase; it was a lot of money. Just like many other purchases, though, Sam paid him no mind and bought it for him. Why? Because she wanted him to have it.

"My cousin Donna? She going out of town, her boyfriend taking them Fort Lauderdale," she whispered, even though she was in her bedroom, with the door closed, and her mother was downstairs.