Turneffe College Ch. 03

Turneffe College - Chapter 03 - by Polly+Anna (2710 words) Beth, Cheryl and Howard (1/28/20)

I checked my mail at lunch time, and there was a slip in my mailbox saying that I had a package behind the counter. Not wanting to drag it along to my afternoon class I came back later for it. As I suspected it contained a pair of Brazilian carburetors that had made their way to an island in Belize by way of Van Nuys California, a lesson in world - or at least Western Hemisphere - geography.

I knew that neither Howard nor Cheryl were back from their classes yet, so I took the box into the dormitory lounge and opened it on the coffee table there. Cheryl hates it when I open boxes of oily metal auto parts in my room. But the Kadrons were far more interesting to me than the classes I had taken this morning.

My second year of Environmental Studies at Turneffe College was really dragging. I just can't wait to graduate so I can get into a good Chemical Engineering program somewhere and rid myself of the jerk-knee-reflex of professors who recoil in fear when I talk about BTUs and bacteria.

My current project in the "hippie commune," so named because it is a collection of rapidly decaying plywood shanties, is making biodiesel fuel. A poorly planned and worse executed firetrap the E.S. department sits in a swamp away from all of the other buildings on campus.

Last year Howard built a beautiful solar air conditioner for the lab. Of course the know-it-all professors turned the orientation of the thermal collector 30 degrees off optimal "for aesthetics," and moved the condensation collector halfway down the cooling tubes "for convenience," and substituted less conductive plastic pipe for galvanized metal and omitted the pea gravel "for economy."

They "improved" his design down to about 50 percent efficiency. Oddly enough the dirt that they inexpensively substituted for pea gravel turns into mud as condensate is collected - I mean, who knew that condensate was water. But it still worked. It has a high degree of automation in that with more direct sunlight, the rooftop collector moves more air out of the structure's interior drawing more cool air into the building through the cooling tubes.

Once his bachelor's degree is in hand, Howard is hoping to enter the Architecture Program at the University of Miami. I hope to follow him there. My project this semester is basically making diesel fuel from waste cooking oil. Which some places will actually pay you to collect.

Mix in a little bit of lye and a dash of my methanol from last year's project - a solar digester, and voilà almost cost-free BTUs. Okay, like everything in life there is a cost, but the cost was mostly paid for refining the food-grade vegetable oil in the first place. The remaining cost is actually less than properly disposing of the non-palatable waste.

.

My solar digester uses the ubiquitous tropical sedge erroneously termed sawgrass; another feedstock people will pay you to collect and remove. But it could use any carbon dense farm waste. Once I modify them a bit these 40mm Kadrons will scream on the oval in bracket races supplying that methanol to my under 1000cc class 4.

I'm Beth, my polygamous American hippy parents named me Elizabeth after a great aunt, but I have always preferred Beth. And I love going fast and playing hard. While most of my professors here chill, smoke their home-grown weed and listen to their Jimi Hendrix and Country Joe cassette tapes I prefer a more natural "high," endocannabinoids. I started with cycling, that well known "gateway activity," but in time I became a gearhead, cart racer and a tuner.

Howard is like me, I guess that's why we really hit it off. A year ago, just a few days into college he just had to meet the "new girl" who knew a wrench from a pair of pliers, thought that Castrol 20W50 smelled better than White Diamonds, and was building a go-kart out of an old riding mower in an industrial design class. There was something special about him, a thoughtful playfulness. The first time we spoke he put a dab of blue valve lapping compound on my nose.

He was a big cyclist too, so we do a lot of that together. I felt a little weird bringing him back to my house on Ambergris Caye over my first Christmas break. To say that my family is different is quite the understatement. While Karen has just one mom, and Howard, Andrew, Stuart and Cheryl have one mom and one dad apiece... While Jim has two moms, I have three moms and two dads - and five brothers and sisters.

Howard actually thought that it was all kind of neat, that in spite of all this parental supervision available. I grew up in a house with but two rules. Rule one was be the person you were created to be. Rule two is take care of your siblings. So, since he gets along great with my many parents and we live on this this nice long island that we could ride our bikes on, he has visited often.

Howard is Garifuna, he's from Punta Gorda, which is the opposite end of Belize from Ambergris Caye - not that its such a big country. The Garifuna are an ethnic mixture of mostly African and Amerindian peoples with just a slight seasoning of shipwrecked Scots, Mayans and East Indians.

Traditionally the men were fishermen and the women ran the village and raised the children. As a result, couples with children often do not get married or live together, so when we went to visit Howard's family it was kind of like visiting friends whose parents were divorced, except that Howard's mom and dad liked one another and never fought.

Actually, Garifuna really never fight among themselves or with others. Hippie chick and Garifuna dude, we have lots in common. Like until we tried it with one another as a form of sexual foreplay, neither of us had ever, in our eighteen years of life up until that point, been spanked.

I mentioned that Cheryl doesn't like car parts in my bedroom. That may have been putting it mildly, she really doesn't like them inside at all. I mean I don't see the problem, it's not like these carburetors ever had gasoline in them.

It's not like these carburetors will ever have gasoline in them. I just need to make some new gaskets, replace the floats, plug a couple of unnecessary passages and convert the choke to operate manually. Then they will be a methanol burning monsters.

Cheryl took one look at me sitting at the coffee table with all the parts of two carbs laid out like a beautiful exploded diagram, and she goes into this rapid fire Spanish diatribe.

"Por-qué-hiciste-eso?" She said, so fast it might have been a single word.

Now, where I grew up on the island, about a third of the people spoke Spanish. But nobody there spoke it as fast as Cheryl does when she's really upset.

"Porque tú eres hermosa cuando estás enojado," I do it because you are beautiful when you are angry, I replied much more slowly.

This isn't really true. I don't do it to tick her off. But damn it... She is especially beautiful when she's mad.

"Messuggene!"

She's right, I am crazy. Crazy about her, it's a natural logical consequence. My moms didn't limit themselves to just one. I'm not going to limit myself to just one, I don't expect Howard to limit himself to just one or Cheryl either. From our earliest times together, Howard was curious about my family's internal dynamics.

Well, as they say curiosity makes a happy cat. I mean somebody, somewhere must say that, right?

Cheryl is a year behind me at Turneffe, and she is uncertain what she wants to do in life beyond college. She started out in education. But is now thinking about hospitality management. No, I don't see a connection either. The daughter of a Mayan shopkeeper and an East Indian business executive, she grew up on a very short leash and just wants to try everything she can, preferably yesterday.

The one place that Cheryl is never uncertain is in the bedroom. Cheryl has a mom and a dad and five brothers and sisters. At home sex-ed consisted of three words, "don't have sex." Advice that her parents apparently didn't take to heart from their parents. Lots of rules and control.

That is pretty much in the polar opposite of Howard's and my home environment. My parents lived by the imperative to teach your children all that you know and coach rather than dictate. Now, Howard and I don't know everything, but we plan to teach Cheryl everything that we know. Then we will have to go out and invent a whole bunch of new stuff together.

"Que pertenece afuera ," that belongs outside, Cheryl said.

I licked my finger tip provocatively and slowly said, "esto pertenece por dentro, mi belleza," this belongs inside [of you] my beauty.

"Who taught you Spanish, the guy at Taco Bell?" She said laughing, "I mean I understand what you're saying. but you're not saying it right."

"Oh," I said sadly.

"Yeah," she said, "well maybe I'll consider it if you go wash those hands. Really, really well..."

Cheryl had come into the lounge wearing a pair of beautiful high waisted tight black pants with big bells at the bottoms of the legs. It had a tall tight top and hugged her gorgeous buttocks, accenting her vertical lines and making her appear even taller than she was. A cute very short white shirt that just covered her bra and a little short black matador's vest with lots of silver thread embroidery completed her ensemble.

By the time I boxed up my parts and washed myself very well, returning from the bathroom smelling of soap, her demi boots, panties and those black pants were lying on my bedroom floor. Her shirt, and then her bra soon joined them. The matador's vest sat on the back of a chair. As she put it back on, I raised my fists to the sides of my head. Using two index fingers I simulated the horns of a bull

I kicked off my shoes and stomped one foot on the carpeting. Cheryl picked up a pillow from the bed and held it out like a cape, the pillowcase was a blue and white striped pattern, but this bull didn't care. The she-bull charged at Cheryl who deftly stepped aside.

The bull wasn't done she charged again. A second time Cheryl stepped aside her ample cleavage falling away from her unbuttoned vest. The bull prepared for a third charge. Matador Cheryl was skillful, but the bull won this battle, I pushed her softly onto the bed.

I kissed her belly and the sides of her hips. I kissed her hairy mound. I kissed her greasy outer labia, savoring her delectable flavor. My hands slowly made their way up her sides eventually reaching her beautiful full breasts. There they made slow circles around those magnificent orbs before finally reaching her erect nipples.

My tongue darted quickly inside of her vaginal opening, and I tasted her sweet flavor from its source. My afternoon snack was the finest in all of creation, a veritable smorgasbord of delight. I tasted her tender labia minora sautéed in a light gravy of girl-juice, I nibbled on her meaty outer lips, and licked her delicate hood with its pearl beneath.

I reached my hands beneath her firm buttocks, gently lifting her as she placed her thighs on my shoulders. She was becoming more and more excited as I began to work at stimulating her, eating her twat in earnest. I got her right up to the very edge of her first orgasm before I stopped. No, I'm not cruel, I just know Cheryl very well. I stepped back kicked-off my pants, removed my shirt and climbed back top of her, only now I was just as naked as she was.

I know that if I get her all worked up, give her a little pause and then go to town, I can bring her off several times in a fervent string of ecstasy. Once I was back on top of Cheryl it was only a moment before she was right back at the edge of bliss. My tongue was darting in-and-out of her, my kisses were making her pubes shine, my licks were making her wiggle and my hands on her firm butt were getting her hotter and hotter. She was starting to squeeze my head hard with her gorgeous thighs.

When she was right at the edge, I used my lips to gently suction her clitoral head, sending her shrieking right over the edge. I didn't let up because I knew that number two would be just around the corner. I added a finger stretching and pulling on her gorgeous cunt as I suctioned her little bud even harder. One finger became two as she achieved her second orgasm, then two fingers became three. Three became four and Cheryl 's third screaming orgasm arrived in a flash of bright lights that only she could see.

Working on number four, I looked into her eyes and saw that she was in another plane of existence. She wasn't asking me to stop, so three fingers became four pushing hard. I was compressing all of her blood-engorged tingly inner parts and dragging my fingers against her vaginal wall on the out stroke - stretching, pulling, stimulating.

My thumb joined in the game and soon my entire fist had slipped deep inside of her cunt. She was drooling and panting and babbling incoherently as she reached her fourth climax. I looked at her. I looked into her glazed eyes and I just kept going.

A moment later she smiled at me and put her hand on my hand. Wordlessly asking me to stop. I withdrew my hand from inside of her and licked her beautiful juices from it. I kissed her, sharing her flavor with her, and our tongues did an erotic little dance. Then I heard a light clapping. Howard had come into the room while we were otherwise engaged.

I looked at him and said, "what are you doing watching? Get naked and come join us."

I didn't have to ask him twice.

Cheryl laid back on the bed and motioned for me to lie on top of her. She intertwined her arms and legs with mine so that I was held motionless in a happy wrestling hold. Then Howard positioned himself to push his raging hard-on into my soppy wet vagina. He made just one single methodical motion and I was completely impaled upon his magnificent hardness.

He pushed hard compressing all of my inner structures. Then he pulled up on the out stroke dragging across those same structures. He pushed hard angling his penile head as he did to in turn compress my clitoris, my bladder, the front edge of my cervix and the back wall of my vagina. Then he pulled up as he withdrew.

His corona dragged across the ripples of my cunt walls stretching every single part that he had just compressed back out - my cervix, my bladder, my clitoris. He shoved back in pushing against the nerve filled sponge of my buried clitoris, stimulating my bulbs and bumping across my cervix.

He withdrew again stretching everything back out before his magnificent fleshy piston went into me again. Each cycle being faster and maybe a tad stronger than its predecessor. Cheryl was holding me so I could not move. It was sheer heaven on earth.

I could hear from his labored breathing that Howard was getting closer and closer. I fired first. My climax a flash of blinding white light right behind my eyeballs. When I came the muscles in my vagina clinched down hard on his penis sending him right over the edge. I felt him stop, shudder and ejaculate his essence into me.