The Story of "Cue"

We all showed up at pretty much the same time for the first appointment and then just hung-out talking as a different Student Union employee would bring someone back, have them change, check basic fit and move on to the next.

Believe me, they weren't going for a tailored look. Simply checking that there weren't any egregious sizing mistakes and that everyone got the full complement of uniform, warm-ups, t-shirts and other team gear.

As they progressed through to my appointment at the end, Ms. Bangston showed up as if she'd just gotten out of a meeting and called me back herself. No reason to question anything yet and none of my other team members had had any problems with their uniforms.

The uniform tank top fit well but there was no question as soon as I pulled on the uniform shorts that we had a problem. Like, "Houston, we've got a big fucking type of problem." Snug. In all the wrong places. I tried the rest of the stuff on with no problems, got dressed and came out of the dressing area to a Union now empty of everyone except Ms. Bangston.

She asked how everything fit and I let her know that it was all good except for the shorts. A little too small.

Still very business-like, she said that the uniforms were supposed to be snug and asked if I was sure there was actually a problem?

I stood my ground with a definite, "Yes," and she asked me to go back in, put on the gear so she could make the determination.

For one big obvious reason, I wasn't very comfortable doing that but if I wanted larger shorts I was going to have to prove the problem with the ones I had been issued and was currently holding.

She told me to call out when I was decent and she'd come back. That took all of two minutes. I got her attention and let her know I was ready. When she got back to the dressing area, I was holding my warm-up jacket in front of my crotch and tried to play it off by immediately spinning away from her, showing the shorts riding up my ass and saying, "See, too small."

That didn't deter her. She walked up to me like she owned the room, which she kind of did, retook her position on her knees, turned me around and moved my warm-up out of the way.

Couldn't miss the show from that vantage point. The only thing she was missing was 3d glasses and a bucket of popcorn. My cock was laying sideways across the front of the shrink wrapped garment and then hanging down to where the head was peaking out below the hem of the shorts on my left thigh. I'd left my underwear on for this very reason so my head was covered but clearly protruding.

Her eyes flashed bright for a quick second followed by a murmur to herself, "I knew it!"

She shocked me further by reaching up and grabbing my unit with her right hand, giving it a quick squeeze and then giving me a wink as she stood up and walked over to a credenza that had a box on it. She immediately grabbed a different pair of shorts, as if she knew she'd be needing them, tossed them to me and said, "These should work better," then stepped out of the room.

I was in shock, still wondering what the fuck had just happened. I tried the different shorts on, found them to be the correct size and then got my shit together to get out of there.

Once out of the dressing area and back into the main part of the still vacated Union, Ms. Bangston met me with a Cheshire Cat smile and asked, "All better?"

"Umm, yeah," I stammered like an idiot, feeling myself redden, "this pair is just fine."

"Good," she said handing me a business card with a hand written address on the back, "Now that we're all done, I want you to meet me here Friday evening at 8:00 pm for dinner. Will you do that for me, Michael?"

"Uhh, yeah," I stammered again, doubling down on my idiocy.

"Thank you, Michael, I'll see you then," she replied.

"Call me Mike, err...Mick," I stumbled getting out.

"What?" she asked, looking confused.

"Call me, Mick, please. That's what I've gone by since I was a kid," I said, sounding every bit like a complete and total kid.

"Okay," she said with a faint smile, "and you can call me Marissa, Mick."

"Sounds good, Ms. Ba...err, Marissa," I basically puked out that reply all over my shoes like a complete and total moron.

"You can look into another world

You get to talk to a pretty girl

She's everything you dream about

but don't fall in love."

From the song She's a Beauty by The Tubes

I was a wreck leading up to Friday night. I'd convinced myself a dozen times to not go and yet the lure of her maturity, directness and confidence was appealing. Those had not been a part of my minimal sexual encounters to date. And what the hell did I have to lose? I could never see her again if I wanted to. This wasn't my small hometown. I was in an area with millions of residents and on a campus with 22,000 students and over 6,000 staff.

You could avoid someone if you choose to.

Turns out, avoiding Marissa was something I quickly found out I never wanted to do.

The address led me to her house, awarded to her following her divorce 4 years ago, and she met me at the front door in a pretty sexy robe. Like we had ended our previous conversation, she knew exactly what she wanted and I was a stuttering moron trying to keep up my end of the conversation.

Thankfully, she let me off the hook almost immediately.

"Mick," she started, after making pretty direct eye contact, "no reason for us not to be straight with one another. I'm looking to get laid, and to get certain other needs met, and I think you're the one I'd like to do it with."

Okay. Pretty much removed any gray area or questions I may have had at the point of showing up.

She continued, "Be honest with me. You don't have a lot of experience with women, do you?"

"No." Fuck it. No use pretending to be someone or something I'm not. She was going to find out soon enough.

"That's not a problem, Mick," she said, "In fact, I think I'd prefer it in your case. Are you going to feel threatened, emasculated or offended in any way if I take charge and help you gain that experience, especially in all the ways that get me off?"

"No," I replied, "I'd very much like to get better at sex and helping both my partner, and me, enjoy it more. I'm not very good at that."

"We can fix that, baby," she practically purred. "We can fix that."

That was the extent of our relationship and over the remainder of that spring semester, Marissa made me into a man who was a competent and giving lover. Damn. Did she ever!

The excitement and importance of foreplay. How to give a woman pleasure before my big dick even gets brought out. The different approaches to create the necessary lubrication for successfully using my big dick. Hours and hours of practice. Marissa was insatiable, and as she got me trained for what rocked her world, we were content to use each other as personal fuck toys.

She couldn't get enough of my cock. She'd hop on and ride me continuously since she could always get herself quickly to the point of release. And as she lost her body control and just thrashed about, it seemed to set off a chain reaction of orgasms that just continued until such time she'd become so physically exhausted that she'd simply fall off and go to sleep.

It was so sexy to watch, and her thrashing about didn't generally provide the type of stimulation necessary to get me off, so I could lay under her for 10, 15 and sometimes even 20 minutes at a time as she rode through multiple orgasms.

Most times, once she practically fell off me she'd ask me to mount her missionary and plow her hard and fast to my own orgasm. Other times, she would roll on her stomach and tell me to pick up her hips and go to town to my completion. This one was problematic though, since it'd hit all those right spots and tip her over the edge again, even when she didn't have the strength or ability to enjoy it anymore. She'd damn near pass out.

A couple of times she'd get so exhausted and unresponsive once falling off that I'd go into her bathroom and jack off then crawl into bed with her and sleep until she was ready to wake up.

She never really apologized for those instances because there were times she'd get me off and that was the extent of our sexual encounter for that day. It was through her I learned about the gift of giving with no expectation of return service. You sure don't want that every time, but periodically it actually felt good to do things for her without getting anything back.

She was clear that she wasn't going to fall for me and that if she ever felt I was falling in love with her that she'd end it. This was just about physical gratification and her openness and honesty about it made it okay with me. Along with the fact that her mature, but sexy as fuck, body was there for my pleasure about any time the need arose. Which proved to be often since I'd now been enlightened as to how wonderful a sexual encounter can truly be. Is supposed to be.

The summer after my freshman year, Marissa left campus and didn't return to her job at the university the following year. I went by her house a couple of times to check on her but she was never there. Eventually, there were different cars in the driveway and kids playing in the yard so it was pretty clear she'd moved on. A little bummed at that because even though we weren't "in love", I certainly loved who she had been for me and what she had done to me. A special lady who changed my life.

At that point though, I was more comfortable putting myself out there with the ladies I'd meet around campus...and like in high school, word gets around quick when a big dick is located and open for business. In this case, more so once it got around that I actually new how to use it. My sophomore into my junior year found me regularly hooking-up with a bevy of coeds and a couple of them kind of became regular booty calls.

I was pretty open that I wasn't interested in anything exclusive, and since the sex was good enough, those regulars didn't make a hassle of it. It weeded some out right away, which was fine with me. Those who stuck around wanted a night together once every couple of weeks to get brought off with my fingers or mouth (or both) and then just take a full-on, knees in their ears, big dick plowing. One that'd make them walk funny for a day or two.

Some opted for taking a ride topside and most had zero problem with doggy. However, the funny thing I learned about women when they've got a big dick at their disposal, is that it's crazy how often they just desire to be bent in half and pile-drived. I was more than happy to oblige and I'd become proficient and giving them just that.

And then like life tends to do, one day it all changed.

"Oh, I see the light and heat (in your eyes)

Oh, I want to be that complete

I wanna touch the light,

the heat I see in your eyes."

From the song In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel

By the 3rd week of my junior year, I'd noticed a girl in one of my classes that caught my attention in a way that was both exciting and confusing to me. Like she demanded my attention without even asking or trying.

She wasn't a model. She didn't dress sexy. She didn't have the SoCal bubble body made popular by Pamela Anderson at the time. In most cases, just the opposite.

Her name was Mandy and she was captivating to me.

We had a brief conversation pre-class one day in the hall and I found out that she'd completed her Associates Degree upstate and came here to complete her undergrad. She was from a smallish city south and east of the Bay area called Tracy and she had that fresh, no make-up, "girl next door" type beauty that could disarm you at the same time it sucks you in.

Somewhere in there seemed to be some Latino blood because she had that dark hair, dark eyes and a natural sun drenched complexion you'd see in that ethnic background even though her name and other attributes didn't necessarily support the findings.

Regardless, I couldn't get her out of my mind and even though I'd become pretty confident and comfortable pursuing coeds, she still had me tongue-tied. Even a bit shy.

It felt both good and scary at the same time.

Apparently, my boyish charm was endearing because she accepted my request for a date once I finally got the courage to ask her. And once that ice was broken, I quickly realized that I'd never been so comfortable around anyone in my life. One date became four, five then six and I finally got up the courage to make a move on her sexually.

She took the "big dick surprise" really well. And even though she was apprehensive, her sense of wonder and curiosity won out and she played with it with an enthusiasm that was sexy.

At that point, I put all of Marissa's training to good use and I gave Mandy everything I had with my hands, fingers and mouth over every part of her body. It meant EVERYTHING to me to give her as much pleasure as I could. It's incredible how much her happiness, needs and pleasure seemed important to me. That type of intimate connection wasn't a feeling I was familiar with. It felt good.

She was glorious. Every part of her that I could touch, taste and smell kept turning me on to a greater and greater extent where I thought there were times I was going to explode just being caught-up in, and warmed by, her sexual glow.

After wringing every drop I could from her, I talked her through mounting me from the top where she could control the pressure and pace. She handled that like a champ and it really didn't take her long to get me buried to the hilt even though her eyes were closed and her brow was furrowed.

I was patient and unmoving until she opened her eyes...and she just sat on my cock and looked at me. I was fascinated and felt comfortable sharing her gaze. Eventually, I reached out and rather than going to her hips or breasts to initiate sex, I felt compelled to just grasp and hold her hands. We interlocked fingers and held tight.

A small smile formed on her lips and she started to roll her hips.

Holy shit, she felt good. And the spots she was hitting seemed to be working for her because even though she was maintaining eye contact, you could see her control slipping away as the pleasure started coursing through her.

Each wave that built had started to force moans from her lips that were so erotic it made me flinch within her and those movements brought her mouth into a silent "Oh" shape before resuming the small moans.

Finally, her orgasm rushed up through her and in response she dropped her upper torso forward and put her hands on each side of my face as her breasts rubbed against my chest. She put her nose just to the side of mine so that our lips almost touched and she continued to moan with ever increasing volume.

Eventually her moaning into my mouth caused me to kiss her and it felt like I was basically inhaling the moans from her body. That was so erotic to me that it made me pause my kissing and groan back to her in her mouth. That released her final inhibition and her orgasm fully over took her. Mandy started grinding down on me and she unleased a steady string of whispered, "Oh God! Oh God! Ohhh, God!" in time with her thrusts.

That was all it took for me reach the summit. She was too sexy for me to keep my wits about me so I slid my hands down to her hips and pinned her to me as I began bucking up into her with my orgasm.

That re-fired her passion in the moment and she tensed up even tighter around my cock screaming, "OH Yesss! Cum for me, baby! I can feel your throbs inside of me and it feels so good! Ohhh gaaaawd!"

With my final thrusts into her I opened my eyes and found her still framing both sides of my face but she also had her eyes open and we fixed our gaze upon one another. The look she was giving me made me twitch again within her. Her eyes would lose focus at that then return to me so sexily causing me to flinch within her again.

This back and forth we were having through eye contact as we came down from our orgasms was a shared experience that didn't need explanation or discussion. We'd found a sexual satisfaction in each other that matched our mutual admiration and care for one another.

I didn't need to learn anything more about her to know she was my soulmate. Apparently, the feeling was mutual and she shared my sentiments because 7 months after our graduation, we were married.

My life during that period was the absolute greatest...until it wasn't.

"So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from Hell?

Blue skies from pain?

Can you tell a green field

from a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?"

From the song Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd

I buried Mandy just under 5 years later after her horrible 2 year bout with ALS. Throughout her fight, she was so much my hero that a part of me died even before I finally lost her. Putting all of your hopes and prayers into what you rationally know is likely a lost cause.., it changes you. It depletes your soul. And the love, the passion, and my smile were extinguished the day I lost her.

That led to over a decade of me just going through life's motions. I wore a mask of normalcy, succeeded greatly in my professional life with no outside distractions to slow me down, and just put the years in my rear view mirror.

I left the company I was working for right out of college when Mandy was still with me. I couldn't stand going to work, seeing the look in peoples eyes and hearing that same, "How are you doing?" question that made me want to scream.

It didn't take long to fall in with a smaller company where I became the CFO after three years. We took the company public in my fifth year with them and while the results weren't spectacular, they were certainly good enough that the stock shares I had accumulated in lieu of salary paid off. Big time.

By 30 years old I had zero debt, a nice house in the hills and a fairly robust and diverse stock portfolio. The house I bought, coincidentally, overlooked my alma mater and wasn't more than two miles from where Marissa had lived.

Being close to the university kept a sense of closeness to Mandy in me, even though I'm not sure it was the healthiest thing relative to actually accepting her loss and moving on with my life.

I was too numb to care.

I did tire of my role and the "rat race" within the now public company so I left and hung out my shingle as an independent CPA where I consulted and provided other small businesses with support as a "fractional CFO". Working for them a couple hours a week, a month, a quarter or at year end to help them manage their business side while they could still run the operations of their company.

This kept me engaged and interested because I could work as much (or as little) as I wanted and got to dabble in everything from start-up tech firms to lawn and landscaping companies, and even a hair and nail salon.

The owner of the salon was the only relationship, if you could call it that, that I had had following Mandy. Her name is Deanna and she was a very attractive woman just two years younger than my 36 years and we'd been hooking-up for the last three years.

She was a lost soul like me. She'd lost her soldier husband in Desert Storm and had opened the salon with the life insurance she'd received. But it was running poorly as a business and she was likely to lose it. The wife of the owner of the Lawn and Landscape business I worked with got her hair done by Deanna and she was the one who made the connection to me on Deanna's behalf.

In Deanna I immediately found a cause that appealed to me and we poured ourselves into redefining and restructuring her business. Helping a widow with two elementary aged children was the first "salve" I'd put on my soul since Mandy, and Deanna's commitment and determination were contagious.

At the end of the first full year, the small salon that Deanna was trying to run by herself now had three hairdressers, three nail technicians, a lady who did facials, scrubs, etc and a masseuse who worked three days a week. She was now managing a full blown spa and only plied her trade when filling in for someone who couldn't work on a particular day.