The Reunion Pt. 02

This was the story Jeff Wheeler told his fiancée, Debra Gladstone, eight years later as they were cuddling in bed after an intense session of lovemaking. Debra was smart, vibrant, and beautiful (slender but with curves in all the right places), but she had something of a sharp tongue, which may explain why, at the age of twenty-six, she hadn't had all that many male admirers. But the earnest, honest Jeff had won her heart, precisely because he was so different from her. And he had told his tale after Debra had casually asked, "Say, what was your first time like?"

She had listened in fascination to his account. "My," she said, "that was quite an encounter."

"Yeah, it was," he said dreamily.

She didn't like the sound of that. "Was that it? Did you, um, draw blood?"

"Well, yes, of course I did."

"Jeff, not all women bleed when their hymen is broken."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Anyway, I hope you stayed the night after such an important milestone for both of you."

"I told you, Debra, that bed was really small! We wouldn't gotten a minute's sleep!"

"So you just left?"

"Well, I cleaned her up first."

"You cleaned her up?"

Jeff grinned ingenuously. "Yeah, well, you see, I'd been carrying a handkerchief with me for just this occasion. And so I got it out and wiped up her—you know, her spot."

"And the blood with it?"

"Yeah."

"And you kept this as a souvenir, I suppose?"

"Well, for a little while."

"You're a beast, you know that?"

"Why, what's the harm?"

"I just think it's a bit vulgar, that's all."

"I offered it to her first, but she didn't want it."

"I'm not surprised." She heaved a sigh. "So I suppose you went on and had a torrid love affair with her for years and years, right? I mean, you were only freshmen."

Jeff's face clouded. "Well, no. We broke up after a few weeks."

"After a few weeks?" Debra exploded in astonishment. "After all this buildup, you parted ways so fast? How did that happen?"

It was becoming obvious that Jeff was becoming increasingly uneasy. "Well, you see, she had this friend, Nancy. I don't remember her last name. And of course, Cassie told Nancy everything that had happened." Jeff glared at his partner. "You women tend to do that."

"Jeff, I've never told anybody about our intimacy."

"Well, Cassie did. I guess she was so excited that she couldn't hold it in any longer. And Nancy got all excited too. So she"—and Jeff said this with extreme reluctance—"wanted me to do her."

Debra wasn't certain she had heard correctly. "She what? She wanted you to—to fuck her?"

"Gee, I wish you wouldn't use such language," Jeff chided. Even though he had definitely become a lapsed Catholic, he was still a bit on the prudish side.

"Never mind my language. How the hell does this girl Nancy think that she can get some action out of her friend's boyfriend?"

"Don't you remember? The only way I ever got into Cassie's dorm room was through that elaborate system of signals that the girls had set up to distract the RA's attention from the back door. And Nancy was one of those who had given the signals. So I guess she felt it was owed to her."

"I don't believe this. So you went ahead and 'did' her?"

"Well, sure. Why not?"

"Why not? Wasn't one girlfriend enough for you?"

"Nancy didn't want me as a boyfriend. She just wanted me to—to—"

"To deflower her?"

"I really don't like that word."

"Well, guy, it's about the most compact term imaginable for this procedure."

"Okay, fine."

"Anyway, you went ahead and did it."

"Yeah."

"And how did that go?"

"Okay, I guess." Jeff paused, his expression clouding. "She cried a lot."

"Did she? Poor girl!"

"I don't think it was so much that she was in a lot of pain. Mostly I think she was just freaking out about the moral overtones of what she had done."

"Well, there is that."

"So after it was over, I just held her and comforted her, and eventually she calmed down. In fact, as I got dressed and was about to leave her dorm room, she actually said, 'Thank you.'"

"She didn't," Debra said flatly.

"She did!"

"I don't believe I thanked my partner for destroying my hymen."

"Well, there it was. Then, the next day, I saw her just before a class, and I asked her how she was doing and all that. She seemed super-grateful. So that's probably why—" He stopped abruptly.

"Why what?" Debra asked. She didn't have a good feeling about what Jeff was about to say.

"Oh, nothing," he said evasively.

"Don't give me that! You were going to tell me something!"

"Calm down, Debra! It was just that—" The following words seemed forced out of him: "—that she started telling everyone about what a good 'first time' I'd given her. And so . . ." He trailed off.

"You're not going to tell me," Debra said slowly, "that you started doing all sorts of other girls on campus!"

"Well, yeah."

"How many, exactly?"

"A lot. I didn't keep count, you know."

"Take a guess."

"Gee, Debra, it went on for the rest of my college career. Basically it was about two or three times a week for the nine months of the school year."

There was a deafening silence. Part of that was because Debra was frantically calculating in her mind precisely how many women Jeff had serviced.

"You did four or five hundred women over four years?" she screamed.

"Probably not five hundred!" Jeff protested. "Fewer than that, I'm sure."

"Jesus Christ," Debra breathed, looking at her fiancé in a new light. "I'm surprised your cock didn't fall off."

"Well, it wasn't as if I did more than one girl a day—although," he added contemplatively, "I could probably have handled that too."

"I'm sure you could have. And they were all virgins?"

"I think so. It was hard to tell in some cases, and I was certain that at least a few of them had had some experience before. But it was pretty obvious that most of them were in fact virgins."

"You mean because you tore through their hymens?"

"Well, yes."

"But you must have done it nicely, to get that kind of reputation."

"I suppose."

"They couldn't all have been sweet young lovelies like Cassie."

"I think all women—especially of that age—are lovely. Of course," he added hastily, "you're prettier than all of them."

"Thank you."

"It got easier the last three years of college, because I got my own apartment and had the girls come over there."

"Your own little snuggery, right?"

"You could call it that."

"And you didn't get a single one of them pregnant?"

"Not one, so far as I know. I mean, all these girls knew they had to practice the 'rhythm method.' No birth control for them."

"Yes, they were all good little Catholic girls—except when they weren't."

"They were good girls! They just wanted the experience. A lot of them figured that it would help them to know something about how to please a man—and themselves—when it came to being with the man they wanted to marry."

"I guess there's something in that."

"And these feelings are all natural. I mean, if God didn't intend for us to have sex, he wouldn't have given us these urges in the first place."

"Good point, Mr. Philosopher."

Jeff suddenly chuckled. "You know, some of them remained virgins even after I'd done them."

"What's that?" Debra cried. "How's that even possible?"

"I did them—a different way," Jeff said cryptically.

"You don't mean just oral sex, do you?"

"Nope."

The light was slowly dawning on Debra. "Omigod! You're not referring to—the back way?"

"That's it, baby!"

"Jesus. They actually liked that?"

"Well, it was painful, of course. But at least their hymens remained intact!"

"Exactly how many girls did you do that way?"

"Not all that many—maybe forty or fifty."

"Is that all?"

"Well, out of close to five hundred, that's not very many."

"So that's why you like rear entry so much." And Debra rubbed her bottom in remembrance of how many times he'd done that to her.

"Just to make sure," she went on, "you're still not doing stuff like this, are you?"

"God, Debra, of course not! I'd never be unfaithful to you!"

"You'd better not be, if you don't want me to chop that thing of yours off."

"Anyway, toward the end of senior year it actually got to be a little tiresome. I mean, Christ! So many women, one after the other."

"I feel your pain."

"Really, it became quite a chore. And you always had to be concerned about causing them pain, or whatever. Some of them threw crazy tantrums—before, during, and after! It got to be sort of a drag."

"I'm sure you were grateful to be relieved of the burden after graduation."

"You're making fun of me."

"Maybe—but you have to admit that this whole business is pretty incredible. And it makes me feel kind of—"

"You shouldn't feel bad! I didn't really want any of them even as girlfriends, much less as potential spouses. Of course, that's why Cassie dropped me as a boyfriend: she got jealous pretty fast."

"I'm not surprised."

"Anyway, that's the story. I hope it doesn't make you think badly of me."

"No, I suppose not. I just wonder where I stand amidst that bevy of five hundred women."

"Oh, Debra, you know you'll always be my best girl!"

*

A few months after they were married, an odd incident occurred. Debra had brought in the mail, and Jeff casually looked through the pile. She noticed that when he saw a bland-looking postcard with printed text on the back, his eyes widened and the blood drained from his face. He shoved the postcard into his pocket and tried to walk away.

"Wait a minute, buster," Debra said. "What was that?"

"What was what?" Jeff said nervously.

"That postcard you're hiding from me."

"I'm not hiding anything."

"Well, then, what does that postcard say? Surely it's not from some long-lost lover?" Like Cassie?

"Don't be silly! I don't have any long-lost lover."

"Well, then, what is it?"

Jeff heaved a huge sigh and fished the thing out of his pocket. "Okay, here it is. It's just—just a notice for a college reunion."

"Reunion? From Sacred Heart?"

"Yeah. It's been, you know, five years since my class graduated."

"And you're all getting together?"

"Well, whoever wants to show up."

"That would be you, I suppose."

Now Jeff suddenly blushed crimson. "Maybe. I just thought—"

"You just thought you might meet up with some of those hundreds of women you fucked and see how they were doing."

Jeff frowned at her use of the obscenity. "That's not it at all."

"Oh, then what is it?"

"I don't know. I knew plenty of guys on campus too, you know. It'd be fun to get together with them."

"But not as fun as getting together with those women you deflowered."

"Will you stop harping on that? That's really not what I was thinking."

Debra gazed at him speculatively. "You know what? I think you should go to that fifth-year reunion."

"You do? You mean that?" Jeff said, flabbergasted.

"Sure. Maybe you'll have a nice time. In fact, I'll try to make sure that you do."

"You'll what? How?"

"I'm going to go with you, that's how."

"Gee, Debra, that won't be much fun for you. You don't know anyone there."

"Oh, that doesn't matter. I'm going to stick to you like glue. So you'd better get used to the idea."

When Debra made up her mind to do something, that's how it was going to be—Jeff already knew that. So they made plans to go back to Sacred Heart in July, for the reunion weekend.

The months seemed to fly by, and the next thing they knew they were packing up their car and driving to Providence, R.I. (They were now living and working in the area around Hartford, Connecticut.) The city was lovely in summer, and the campus was in full bloom. The main event for the reunion was a big dinner on Saturday night, but on Friday there was a meet-and-greet at the convent—just about the only time when men were allowed into that holy sanctuary.

As Jeff and Debra walked into the large assembly room, a lot of heads turned in their direction—most of them female. An immediate buzz began to be heard, and many pairs of eyes followed them as they seated themselves at a table far in the corner and sipped away at their drinks.

Almost at once, an array of young women started coming up to Jeff and saying hello. A great many of them said something like, "You remember me?"

Jeff was extremely uncomfortable in the presence of his beloved wife on the one hand and all these women he'd poked on the other. He dutifully introduced Debra to them, and she was inwardly delighted to see the angry or disappointed or crestfallen faces of one woman after the other. She wondered how many of these creatures were safely married—and went on to wonder whether that made any difference in their reminiscent fondness for her husband.

"Is Cassie here?" she whispered to him at one point.

"I don't see her yet."

"How about your Town Crier?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nancy. You know, the one who said, 'If you want to have a good first time, Jeff's the man.'"

"I don't see her either."

"Too bad. But you seem to recognize plenty of others."

"Some—not really all that many. Anyway, it would hurt their feelings if I said I didn't remember them."

"You're so considerate."

The array of women continued to cluster around Jeff's table, and even at a distance he could see various females pointing to him or waving at him or trying to get his attention.

He certainly seemed to be the Big Man on Campus even after the passing of half a decade!

The next evening was the formal reunion dinner, held at the college's main ballroom. Even Debra thought he looked scrumptious in his three-piece pinstriped suit. She herself felt she was quite the knockout in a dark blue strapless outfit that showed plenty of cleavage, but she was prepared to play second fiddle once again to her husband. The meal itself was no great shakes, although Jeff devoured it with apparent relish.

But it was just after the meal that a certain woman sauntered up to his table. It was Nancy Goodwin—the woman Debra had called his "Town Crier."

"Hi, Jeff," she said shyly, blushing as she glanced in Debra's direction.

"Omigod, Nancy!" Jeff cried. "Gee, you look swell!"

And Debra had to admit that she did. Nancy was wearing a long, cream-colored ball gown that not only displayed just as much cleavage as Debra's own dress but also outlined her slim, curvy figure, from the flat stomach to the long, curving back to the sleek thighs—and especially the smooth, round bottom.

"Let me introduce you to my wife, Debra," he said.

"Oh, this is your wife?" Nancy said, extending a hand. "You're one lucky girl!"

"I think so," Debra said with some smugness, taking the hand and shaking it for precisely one second.

Then, as if Debra wasn't there, Nancy went on. "Say, Jeff, we're having a little gathering after dinner. We thought you might want to come along." It was abundantly obvious that the "you" was meant to apply only to him.

"Oh, yeah?" Jeff said, suddenly finding his collar feeling tight. "Well, we'll see about that."

Nancy gave a significant look, then turned her back on him and walked away—knowing full well that his eyes would be fastened to her backside.

When Nancy finally drifted out of sight, Jeff laughed nervously as he saw his wife's eyes glued to his own.

It was at that point that Debra—noble and selfless creature that she was—made a fateful decision. Placing a hand on her husband's arm, she said, "Listen, Jeff. I think you should go to this little 'gathering'—it's clearly being planned in your honor. And you should feel free to do anything you like." After a pause she repeated: "Anything you like."

Jeff's jaw dropped. "You really mean that, babe?"

"Sure, why not? You did all these lovelies a good turn years ago by giving them a good 'first time.' So you deserve a little recompense—whatever it may be."

Jeff was overwhelmed with emotion. He awkwardly embraced Debra and gave her a wet, sloppy kiss. "Gee, Deb, you're the best!"

She hated being called "Deb," but she didn't make a fuss over it. Patting his cheek maternally, she said, "Just meet me back at the hotel whenever you're done."

And she got up and walked out of the place.

There appeared to be a kind of elaborate female grapevine that, within minutes, conveyed to all concerned that Jeff Wheeler's annoying wife had bolted from the scene, leaving him alone and helpless.

Nancy came rushing back to him, saying, "You ready?"

Jeff swallowed heavily and said, "Sure." Even now he wasn't quite sure what was expected of him—but he couldn't have predicted what would actually happen.

The post-dinner "gathering" took place at a bar just off campus, whose entire second floor had been reserved for the occasion. When Jeff, with Nancy hanging on his arm, got there, he was somehow unsurprised to find that he was the only man present. He couldn't begin to count how many women there were: it seemed there were dozens and dozens, all impeccably attired in formal wear and all looking spectacular. The cloud of clashing perfumes was in itself enough to be intoxicating.

As Jeff caught sight all these females, Nancy took him aside and, in a few short sentences, explained what was going to happen. Jeff's eyes widened, and his whole body seemed to quiver, as he took in her words.

"You—you gotta be kidding," he breathed.

"I swear to you, that's what's gonna go down. We've been planning this for months. All these girls think you were just the cat's pajamas back in college, so we want to repay you for your kindness and gallantry."

He gulped. "If you say so."

As instructed, Jeff wandered off to a nearby men's room. Some minutes later he emerged and re-entered the main room.

He was naked. And hard.

As the women closest to him caught sight of him, they started letting out whoops and cheers and claps that soon became thunderous. He was at least half a head taller than almost all the women in the place, so it was easy for them to follow his course through their midst as he made his way to a simple armless chair in the middle of the room.

He sat down upon it, his erection seeming to become stiffer and bigger with each passing second.

Many of the women had difficulty tearing their eyes away from it and paying attention to Nancy, who seemed to take it upon herself to be a sort of mistress of ceremonies.

"Okay, girls," she announced, "I think I explained to you in an email what we're planning here, but I'll just refresh your memories. We have here the wonderful guy who so considerately took our virginity, and so it's time to show our appreciation. Here's what's gonna happen.

"Each of us will stuff his cock into our pussies for exactly thirty seconds." She fished out a stopwatch and held it up for everyone to see. "I know that's not a lot of time, but we have a lot of girls here. If you don't make him come within those thirty seconds, you have to forfeit your underwear." And she pointed to a paper bag that lay on the floor next to the chair where Jeff was sitting. "If you do make him come, you get to keep your underwear. That may not seem to be the greatest prize in the world—but the real prize, of course, is that magnificent cock that perforated our hymens years ago.

"Okay, girls, who's going to be first?"

Few women stepped up to the plate—not because they weren't keen on impaling themselves on his member, but because, recalling his stamina and endurance, they realized that the first several among them were extremely unlikely to win the prize of keeping their underwear. Even so, nearly every woman began lifting up her skirt or dress and peeling off her panties, clutching it in her hand in a tight little ball.