Summer Loving

This story is posted on the Literotica website. Do not repost anywhere else without the author's consent.

This is an edited version of a story previously published here, which included too many mistakes to be readable in my opinion. It did receive good reviews and so I wrote a second part, but I had to get the first one correct before publishing the second, so bear with me. If you have any comments please contact me, although remember if you're anonymous I can't contact you, that's for the helpful person who offered to edit anonymously. I'm not ignoring the offer I just have no way to contact you. Also 5 star reviews are always welcome.

The weather was hot and humid, great for lazy days on the beach but not so great for anything else. Jeez, it was eight a.m. on the first Monday after my first year at college. I was nineteen years old and back at my parent's house for the holidays.

I had done well academically all my life, mainly because I loved computers; absolutely everything about them had fascinated me from the first day I'd seen one. This, of course, helped me greatly, because it isn't work if it's something you love. Well, that's what they say, and in this, they had been right computer-wise anyway. I had flown through school in a bipolar kind of way; academically, it had been amazing, but socially, not so much. You see, because I loved computers to the point where nothing else mattered, I had no social life, none whatsoever. I was so awkward that I didn't even play team games online; I just couldn't understand why anyone would get so angry at a game that they'd yell at the person playing it with them.

I was a skinny kid, gangly in an almost cruel way. If you've ever seen the baby giraffes on television, well, you get the picture: all legs at awkward angles, falling over all the time. I made Bambi's ice-skating attempts look graceful. It really became a circle; I was so awkward that everyone laughed at me, which made me hide inside the shell I'd created to protect me from the nasty things they said. I wasn't even popular with the geek kids; to be honest, I found their awkwardness annoying. I know, right? Go figure, so I was the perennial loner.

California, University, Berkeley was supposed to be my breakout year, but unfortunately, it wasn't. College was even bigger than high school. The noise, the hurly-burly of everything, had made me worse, not better. Add in the fact that the girls were insanely hot, as were as some of the teachers! Well, if I was awkward with people, pretty girls made it ten times worse. Tongue-tied did not do it justice; no, I was an origami master if I tried to talk to girls, or now professors for that matter. Professors, should not be allowed to be that hot!

One of my coding professors, Ms. Oakley, proved that point religiously. She was five feet, five inches of ridiculous hotness: slim figure, flared hips, with an ass so tight you could bounce quarters off it. The slim, form-fitting skirts did nothing to hide its amazingness, coupled with her tight blouses that always seemed to have at least two buttons undone; not only that, but they seemed to push out her chest somehow instead of containing it.

She was ridiculously pretty; her dark brown wavy hair framed her model-perfect, porcelain face, and her big, brown, come-to-bed eyes stood out more because of her dark-framed librarian-style glasses. She was a wet dream rolled up into reality, which had made talking to her impossible in what should have been my favourite class. I'd given up trying to speak to her, and everyone, else for that matter, after the first week. My breakout year had officially become a nightmare.

Then, reading up one night about ways to overcome anxiety, the strangest thing saved me from dropping out of my dream school: physical training. You see, I didn't want to go down the tried and tested road of antidepressants; they were the devil in my eyes, as my mother had become a zombie for a year on them. I couldn't let something like that affect the only friend I had - my brain! So I had started small, but I had at least started.

In the morning, I would rise earlier to make myself do pushups, sit-ups, and star jumps. Later that month, I added burpees and even the plank. Every morning and evening, I would do as many as I could. When that started to make me feel better, I took to running in the evenings around the local park. Always at times, no one would see me, which was a good thing, because, for the first few weeks, they'd have laughed so hard that they cried before calling an ambulance. I was soaking wet with sweat and hyperventilating; I looked like I was having a heart attack.

I'd stopped that after a few weeks as it had become counterproductive given the fact I dreaded it, so I had tried and then taken to swimming, like a duck to water, as they say. The pool facilities were amazing; when I was in the water, no one else mattered; it was just me against myself, and I found that I loved it. I found myself eating more as my body started to crave more calories to make up for all the ones the exercise burned.

It had become an obsession; my morning and evening circuit racing in my room was all about beating yesterday's totals; swimming was no better, and every lap became a test to beat the previous lap.

The thing was, it worked, even though I had less free time. My mind became sharper and clearer even; the school work still came so easily to me, it was laughable, and the added clarity with hardly any anxiety made me so much better. Toward the end of the year, I found myself walking with my head held high instead of tucked in a book or looking at the floor. No, my newfound muscles wouldn't allow me to hide. I was still incredibly hopeless with others and talked to no one, but hey, I didn't have the time to care about it.

My day was divided into exercise and study. The study part was easy; I'm not saying that I knew everything, but the years of doing nothing but studying computer science, right down to the microscopic details, just let my brain accept and understand everything that was asked of it. This, of course, meant more free time, which was now spent either running or swimming. Yes, when I had gotten fitter, I had retried the evening runs, finding they no longer turned me into a hyperventilating, gasping wreck.

The less spare time I had to wallow in my loneliness, the less I ate junk food, so I lost the puppy fat, and my body became that of a swimming athlete. My shoulders muscled out, I had the V shape craved by all as they tapered into a narrow waist, and my abs were the rock-hard six-pack type that craved attention. Everything about me now was lean muscle; my walk had even changed from a shuffle to a loping gait, gained through confidence in my body and the actual muscles themselves.

I noticed the looks I was getting at the pool but still shied away from conversation of any kind, but in my mind, I was getting there. My mind was no longer scared of its own shadow; with all the exercise, it had gotten a lot better, and over the last couple of months, I had added meditation alongside yoga. The yoga class had been a big thing for me as my anxieties once again reared their ugly heads. I had wanted to learn it properly; like everything else I did, I wanted to excel at it, so I needed an actual class. No longer a pure loner if I set foot in a group activity, but I held firm and I was amazed; it was so much harder than I'd expected! But once I was in the class, situated at the back, of course, I found the poses took all of my concentration, and the anxiety mostly drifted away. The view helped as well; all those toned, nubile asses in front of me were a distraction I found challenging, but I just took that as a challenge in itself, hence the meditation. Learning to calm my mind had been a revelation of pure thought; the clarity that had been gained from physical activities was moulded and honed further through meditation.

My schoolwork had soared beyond what I previously believed to be possible; I had always been good, but now I was amazing--well to me anyway.

I'd had to get bigger clothes, a whole new wardrobe actually, as I preferred loose-fitting clothing, meaning the baggy clothes I had been wearing now actually fit--some even becoming a little tight as the muscles grew. The swimming and the circuits produced more muscle, but the running kept It reasonably in check, it's not like I'd ever hit the gym, but I had installed a pull-up bar in my room, so that helped as well.

I'd purposely gone for a single room against my parents' wishes; they had thought it would make me socialise, but in my mind, it would have been a disaster. Instead, my room had been turned into a gym. Flutter kicks had been added to my current circuits, and my abs absolutely hated them, but with the plank now taking a full ten minutes, I'd needed to spice things up a little. Like I said, I was obsessed!

My parents had been amazed at my body's transformation; there was no hiding it from my mother, baggy clothes or not, but I was pleased they were pleased that it no longer looked like a gust of wind would blow me over.

The current problem was that there was no local pool open at the hours I required, so I decided to head back and enroll in a few summer classes to allow me to still use the facilities. It hadn't gone over that well with my folks, but when I explained I needed the physical exertion to calm my raging mind, they begrudgingly understood. I'd lasted a week!

Who'd have thought the shut-in would crave the pool or open parkside runs, but crave it I did; there were even some yoga classes still running. It meant joining a different class, but the view from the back would be the same, surely.

The thing that made my decision easier was that I didn't need a summer job; while my academic prowess had earned me a full ride, I could have paid my own way. You see the allowance, I had been given usually went unspent until online banking spiked my interest.

By then, I had nearly five thousand dollars in savings, and my father had opened an online account, letting me be the sole user as I'd been too young for my own. I had loved mining Bitcoin and was good at it, so without really noticing, I had made myself a fortune; I'd just enjoyed the process. In 2015, when it first started, they were worthless, so it was just a game to me. Meaning all the coins I collected just sat on my USB Drive, collecting dust. My other investments did well, turning the initial four thousand investment into over two hundred thousand, so I could just about afford to put myself through college. It wasn't until 2021, when I heard the crazy stories about the value of Bitcoin, that I dug the USB out. It was then that I realised how much I had. I sold three hundred of my five hundred off at sixty-two thousand five hundred and four dollars each! Each!! Saving the rest for a rainy day but liquidating that much in case the fad went downhill fast. So eighteen million, seven hundred and sixty-two thousand dollars later, I realised I was slightly richer than I'd thought.

Ten million had gone into deep safe savings, five million had been reinvested in what I liked to think were good safe earners, and two million went into my 'Let's Take a Risk' fund, where I invested in smaller electronic companies, mostly those I thought had a chance. That left me with one million safely invested for my parents. They were comfortable in their lives, but when the time was right, I was going to gift them that million and anything it had earned. Leaving me the handsome sum of seven hundred and sixty-two thousand dollars, so you can see why I didn't worry about my new wardrobe even though I'd kept it simple; the only things I'd splashed out on were an expensive pair of running trainers. I still didn't go anywhere or do anything that required me to spend money.

No, it was the yoga class that shocked me. There were a few friendlier girls than I was used to in it, and the teacher was insanely hot. She looked a lot like Olivia Wilde; she was taller than I usually liked, standing at five-eight, with long legs that seemed to go on for days. She was firm and tight everywhere, even at the grand old age of thirty-four! But the constant years of yoga shone through; she had an ass any eighteen-year-old would kill for, small, firm peaches, and slow graceful movements under her tight navy-blue yoga pants. She wore T-shirts that were baggy enough to give you a view of heaven, had it not been for the damn sport's top underneath, hiding, no caging, her assets so much that I couldn't guess their size. But her face matched the movie star, with a strong jaw, wide mouth, sharp but attractive nose, and blue eyes that you could dive into and lose yourself in for weeks.

Unfortunately, I had done just that, which made me look like a total loser, I'm sure, as I just gawked helplessly at her, having no idea what she'd asked me.

"I er, I'm terribly sorry, ma'am, I was miles away and completely missed your question," I mumbled.

"That's alright, Scott, is it? Happens to the best of us," she said kindly, her eyes sparkling with natural joy. "What I asked was, could you possibly help me move an old cabinet? It's not that heavy; just too bulky and awkward for me to do alone." What? She was asking me to lift stuff; when had I progressed enough to look like I could handle it? Dammit! I was spacing out again!

"Er, yes, of course, I'd be happy to help," I said, recovering smoothly, not!

"Great, when could you manage it? I have another class this evening, so this afternoon would be great," she said, smiling brightly. Damn, her teeth were white, making her smile so, so, er bright, I guess. Damn it! Pay attention.

"This afternoon is fine," I said, so she gave me her address. It was only on the far side of the park that I ran around; it was easy enough for me to walk there, and as long as I didn't make a fool of myself, I'd be a happy man.

I looked in the mirror when it was time to leave, and the strong-jawed, green-eyed face looking back at me was a massive improvement from the one I was used to seeing. I could do with a haircut, though, as I let it get way too long and unruly on purpose to hide behind. It wasn't helping my looks any and was an absolute pain in the pool, so I decided to get it cut. Another major achievement; If I went through with it, as physical closeness like that, well, I'd always shied away from it.

The swift walk saw me arrive early at a gated apartment complex that looked surprisingly new and high-tech for a yoga teacher. I have no idea where that came from, but apparently, in my head, all yoga instructors were hippies living in rundown old houses, go figure.

No one answered when I buzzed her apartment, leaving me hanging around for the fifteen minutes I was early by, but still no answer at the appointed time had me frowning and heading for home. A shout broke me from my walk, and suddenly yoga teaching lady, I realised she'd given me her address but not her name, was jogging towards me.

"I am so sorry, Scott. I got held up while running a few errands that took longer than I expected. I'm only five minutes late, though. Can you forgive an old lady her tardiness?" The way she was smiling told me she knew I would. Damn, she was confident in herself. Well, I suppose looks like that would make you pretty happy.

"Of course, ma'am, I arrived early, so it just seemed longer, is all," I responded politely.

"Oh shit! I really am sorry. Do you have somewhere to be?" Hey, is she saying, 'Loser, what have you got better to do?' She must have read my face as she moved back saying, "I was just asking; no need to get upset".

"Sorry, ma'am, I know I'm known as a bit of a loser, so I'm a bit sensitive, I guess," I said, relaxing as I was being a jerk.

"No, they don't, well, not to me anyway; you caused quite a stir in the class, in fact," she said while leading me into her building. "What? Not interested in the gossip about you?" She asked, laughing happily.

"It's never any good, so I'd rather skip it," I replied honestly.

"Well, now you need to get a grip. You are a fit, healthy, great-looking young man. I mean, you could do with a haircut, but that's my entire critique," she said, laughing warmly with kind eyes.

"I, er, I'm sorry? I guess," I mumbled.

"No, no, no! This won't do. You need to stand tall and don't bend so easily. Hey, I know you're bendy; you were very good in class, even if you did tuck yourself all the way in the back, for the view, I'd guess?" She asked, winking playfully.

"No, I, er, prefer to be out of the way, is all; I've only been learning for a few months," I said in my defence.

"How many is a few?" She asked cheekily, which made me smile.

"Two, ma'am," I replied shyly.

"Holy hell! You're great then; some people like us just take to it naturally, but this Ma'am stuff has got to go," she said as she smiled.

"I, I don't know your name," I whispered my confession, head down, looking anywhere but at her. This is why I don't talk to people.

"You haven't asked," she said as we entered her building's lift.

"Oh, well, I just kind of..."

"Stutter your shy way through life? No, this will not do at all, Scott. No, not at all," she said, much like a third-grade teacher, but then she lifted my chin with her finger, so I was looking directly into her eyes. "You simply have to ask; it's only polite, really," she responded, with a voice full of mischief.

The moment seemed to last forever, and I guess in a way it did, as she was waiting for me to ask her name while my brain was trying to compute why in the hell the sexiest yoga teacher I'd ever seen was touching me. Thankfully, she brought me out of it with a little cough, clearing her throat, She didn't laugh at me, but there was a hint of a smile. I could live with that.

"Hi, I'm Scott; w-what's your name?" I asked weakly.

That she did laugh at, but kindly, as you would, so as not to spook a skittish colt. Hey, I guess that made me a colt; I'd always liked that name.

"Well, we need to work on that still, but hi, Scott, my name is Maddison." She held out her hand, and we shook on it, both smiling. "Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, carbonated soda?" She asked, making me smile as she was positively infectious.

"No thank you, ma'am." She stopped me with her stern third-grade teacher eyes. I'm not sure when she became my fantasy third-grade teacher, but damn if she didn't fit the bill. "I mean, no thank you, Maddison, I wouldn't want to hold you up. I'll just move your cupboard and head on out." I was sweating; why was I sweating? We hadn't moved anything yet!

"I knew you were busy; I'm so sorry; let's get to it," she said, rushing, all be it gracefully, to the other room. Man, she moved well, like a lithe, graceful cat, all sinewy and full of sex appeal.

"No, no need to rush; I was just thinking of you," I said lamely.

"Me? I was the one who offered Scott," she said with a smile, stopping as if now unsure if we should go back for the drink or not.

"May as well move it, ma'... Maddison," I said, smiling, as it wasn't me who was confused for once.

The cupboard turned out to be something and nothing. We had it moved in seconds, really, and I was ready to head off. Her total sexiness was off the charts, making me all the more awkward.

"Right, tea or coffee then?" She asked

"Er, no, nothing for me; I should be going," I mumbled as I headed for the door, but she cannily managed to place herself between me and the door. Sneaky, sneaky.

"Nope, nuh uh, you said you weren't busy, so which is it? Or am I really that bad to be around?" She said while laughing, but for just a moment there, her eyes showed a hint of nervousness that had no place at all in this woman's stratosphere, Goddamn it!

"No, Maddison, you're a delight." What the hell?? " I mean, it's not you, it's me?" Yeah, that was lame even to my ears. Fuck! This talking game is hard.