When We Were Young Ch. 01

Special thanks to kenjisato for the editing, whom I cannot recommend enough.

This is the first thing I've written. Comments would be appreciated.

This story is about meeting my soul mate, the friends we met that made up our 'family', and our adventures When We Were Young, tragedy, death, and coming out the other side. I hope you enjoy it.

Please note I met Linda in 2000 and our story together starts then. Current day activities come much later on in the tale.

This part contains M/F consensual sex

***

My name is Tony, and I'm blaming my recent actions on a mid-life crisis. Or maybe PTSD. Whatever gets me sympathy from the reader, I'll take it. Eighteen months ago, I had, for me, a perfect life and everything I wanted. And now? Well, let's just say things have taken a turn.

In the fall of 2021, I was 43, and starting my second year as a professor at my alma mater, a major midwestern university. Twenty-five years ago, I was a walk-on point guard here on the basketball team, meaning I practiced, worked out, and attended all the games, but rarely saw the court. Like fifteen-minutes-on-the-court-for-the-whole-season rarely. And I loved every minute of it. Well, mostly.

Being part of a team is my thing, I've learned. From the moment I began playing at the local Y at eight years old, team success always meant more to me than personal glory. As the point guard, my job was getting my teammates the ball in a position where they could be successful. Their success was my success. Making someone happy makes me happy and content in a way that is difficult for many people to understand.

Is that what nurtured my submissive personality, or was I born this way? I guess it doesn't really matter. What's important, is that I recognize it now and need to embrace it to get what, or who, I need.

The other thing being a part of a basketball team, especially at a large school like mine, means that I have seen my share of large dicks, in more ways than one. I was six-foot-two-inches tall and 190, which was short on the court, and my seven-and-three-quarter-inch manhood (yes, I measured it in college) was not very impressive in comparison. Our center, Jamaal, was a foot taller and sported a twelve-inch tree trunk between his legs. There's a story there, but it'll keep a while.

Between my team commitments, and earning a degree in Information Systems (IS) in three years, I didn't have a lot of time for women and dating. A few I-fucked-a-basketball-player experiences and short relationships, but nothing to write home about.

And then I saw Linda. September 2000, first day of grad school, first class. Five-foot-three-inches tall, and maybe 110. Brown hair to mid-shoulder pulled back in a ponytail, and an incredible, tiny, muscular ass. That's what I noticed, as she walked by and sat two rows in front of me for Data Visualization. Watching that ponytail bob back and forth was exquisite, exposing a long, graceful neck and ears calling to be nibbled on. I was visualizing, all right, but not about data.

And when she gathered up her books after class, that ass, oh my, encased in a tight pair of stone-washed denim, made me lightheaded. And then she turned around to leave and...the greenest emerald eyes, with mesmerizing little flecks of gold; freckles on the edge of her small nose, and a mouth I knew I needed to kiss. Her golden-brown skin spoke to southern Europe, or maybe South America.

In contrast to her tight jeans, she wore a bulky sweater, which was sort of odd, considering the still-warm weather of mid-September. Her breasts appeared small, which I personally loved. Between the ponytail, that ass, those eyes, and ears, she checked boxes I didn't know I had. For the first time in my life, I was in trouble...and I knew it.

My success on the court and in the classroom in high school gave me a natural confidence I carried through college. I was used to working toward what I wanted, and getting it. I had just never focused that determination on a woman before. And I was crazy nervous, more nervous than I can ever remember being. It was weird, the effect just the sight of her had on me. How should I approach her? What could I say to break the ice? How do I not look like an idiot in the process?

Turned out to have been super easy. The dean, over those of us getting our Masters in Information Systems (MIS), threw a mixer at the end of our first week and as I was talking to my best friend, Rich, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Mind if I join you?"

As I turned around and made room in our semi-circle, the word 'sure' on my lips, those greenest of eyes smiled up at me, and I lost the ability to speak. I managed an elegant, "Uhh".

Luckily, Rich was there to rescue me. By which, I mean, bust my balls.

"Well said, Tony. That communications major really paid off for you." Noticing my continued inability to speak, he stuck out his hand, "Rich, a pleasure to meet you. And this Neanderthal is Tony. And you are?"

"Linda!" I blurted out.

Rich stared at me like I had lost my mind. "Well, his speech has returned," he grinned at Linda, who was laughing as they shook hands.

"Tony got it in one. I'm Linda. Nice to meet you."

I was grinning stupidly, lost in her laughing eyes. Rich shook his head, grinning slightly. "Oh boy. I'm gonna go get Tony here another beer. Can I get you something, Linda?"

"Beer would be great, thanks. I'll keep an eye on him until his speech comes back," she grinned.

And Rich, like a true friend, disappeared. I laughed, though much too loudly.

Linda just grinned, stuck out her hand, and said, "It's nice to meet you."

When our hands touched, it electrified me and grounded me at the same time. My nerve endings were firing on all cylinders, and yet a calmness settled in my mind. "Uhh...I'm Tony. (she knows that already, you idiot!) It's, ah, very nice to meet you. Would you like to sit?" I managed, almost like a normal human being.

And so we sat. Rich brought our beers and excused himself. And my obsession grew. Linda was also 22, and had been a Division II All-American soccer player upstate, leading the nation in goals scored as a senior. We were both from the St. Louis suburbs, had loved our athletic careers, and were anxious about our next steps.

For me, that meant--a stable job, white picket fence, two-point-three kids, and a corgi. But at just 22, being ready to settle down was not the norm. And the last thing I wanted was to scare Linda away, not when I'd just found her. Over the next hour and a half, we cautiously laid out where we saw our futures taking us, and the more we revealed, the more we realized a desire for the same things. It was unsettling and thrilling at the same time.

After the mixer, we walked to an all-night diner just off campus for a piece of pie. It was a warm evening, probably low-80s, and Linda had a sweater draped over a peasant blouse and tied in front.

"Isn't that sweater warm?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm always cold. I usually have one with me, just in case," she said nonchalantly, and changed the subject.

Over apple pie and coffee, and splitting another piece of pie, Linda and I just clicked. She was gorgeous, funny, and confident, As she fed me bites of pie, I felt like—maybe—I had found a new teammate.

We caught a taxi to her apartment, which was happily just a few minutes from mine. As I walked her to her door, I asked if I could see her again.

"You better." She smiled with just the faintest hint of steel in her voice. "Do you run?" she asked.

"Love to. When and where?" I replied, leaving out that my desire to run was only present when being chased by something big and scary.

"Pick me up tomorrow at ten, and we'll do a few miles on the track," she said, before reaching up with her hand behind my neck, pulling me down for a toe-curling kiss, that ended my night the way it began—speechless.

Well, I did manage to breathe a, "Wow," which brought light to the gold flecks in her eyes.

"See you tomorrow, baby," she whispered, before closing her door.

I just stood there, feeling her absence acutely, until the cabbie blipped his horn.

_____

Linda and I very quickly became a thing. It was like we had known each other forever. In a week, we were studying together after class, running (for my sins), and talking over coffee and pie in 'our' diner. It was 'rom-com' cheesy to the nth degree...and we couldn't have cared less.

I told her my theory of being part of a team, and that the point guard was there to make everyone else shine, and the satisfaction I derived from it. Linda described her role as a goal scorer on her team, being out front, leading by example, and being the face of the team. Our own little team dynamic was taking shape. Linda would lead—and I would support her.

A week after the mixer, we met at her apartment for an evening of pizza, wine, movies, and?? Her roommate was gone for the weekend, and we were anxious to see if we were compatible in the bedroom, as well. Okay, I was anxious to see, Linda was just anxious. Any attempt to move my hands anywhere close to her breasts, when holding and kissing her, and she would tense up and redirect them somewhere else. She was not a tense person, from what I'd observed in our brief time together; it was a little confusing. So, I backed off, Linda would lead me, when she was ready, and, for her, I would wait.

The pizza was fine, the wine was relaxing, and The Wedding Singer was very good. Adam Sandler and Drew Barrymore? Come on! After the second bottle of wine, we settled on the couch. I was nervous because she was nervous. I was guessing it was breast-related; though, I couldn't think why. We weren't 16, and neither of us virgins. And tits were...wonderful. Everyone I'd ever seen, anyway.

I mean, unless she had a tattoo of Hitler on her chest...and even then, I mean...I'd hear her out.

"You know, I'm famous for my foot massages," I said.

"Oh yeah?" she grinned.

"Yep. People come from far and wide to get their feet in my hands. They call me 'The Foot Whisperer'."

"Really?" Linda chuckled.

"Laugh it up, babe, but soon you'll be putty in my hands. May I demonstrate?" I asked.

"Oh, please do, Mr. Whisperer."

Now, the only feet I've massaged are my own (mostly from all the damn running with Linda that week), but I know people like them, and it was as far away from her breasts as I could get, and still be in contact with her.

I got Linda a glass of wine, dimmed the lights, and went to work. I slipped her sandals off and worked my thumbs into the bottom of her right foot, pressing firmly from heel to toe, eliciting a low moan from the other end of the couch. Forward and back, willing the tension from her body. I leaned in and swirled my tongue around her big toe, sucking lightly.

"Oh my," quietly escaped her lips, as our eyes met, golden flecks dancing in the dim light. Ten toes, and over the next fifteen minutes I kissed, licked, and sucked on them all, as sensuously as I knew how. The soft mewls and sighs encouraged me and I moved on to massage her calves, kissing my way up to her knees, staring into her eyes, lost in their intensity.

Linda was wearing a mid-thigh length, pleated skirt and I hesitated, unsure what my next move should be. How far was this going? This night loomed as potentially life-changing in my mind, and I desperately didn't want to screw it up.

When she smiled and curled her index finger in a come-hither motion, I was in her arms in a flash, and her passion assaulted my mouth, our tongues fighting for supremacy. Score one for 'The Foot Whisperer'!

Our hands began roaming and I stayed away from her chest, concentrating on her thick, lustrous hair and a handful of her gorgeous ass. Linda, meanwhile, was squeezing an ass cheek (hard!) and rubbing my chest.

She broke away from my mouth to whisper, "Wait," as out of breath as I was. She started to speak and faltered; I squeezed her hand. "I'm, uh, unusual...my last boyfriend...called me a freak...I have tried to tell...you might not." And then she stopped, looking down at her delicate hands.

"Linda, look at me," I said gently, my finger under her chin guiding her eyes to mine, her emerald eyes dull. "I have a very serious question, so think about it before you answer. Okay?" I said.

She nodded.

"Do you have a tattoo of Hitler on your chest?" I asked, in a serious tone.

"WHAT!? Of course not!" she barked, incredulous. "How could you..."

I put a finger to her lips. "Fidel Castro?" I asked.

This got me a little chuckle and a shake of her gorgeous head.

"Barry Manilow?"

She shook her head and grinned.

"Then I don't care," I said, staring into her eyes, willing her to understand the sincerity in my voice.

Linda took a deep breath and began to untuck her blouse from her skirt, when I put my hands on hers.

"Let me?" I asked.

She nodded and slid her hands along either side of my neck.

As I began to unbutton her blouse, I was nervous. I needed to get my reaction just right. I couldn't pretend it was nothing, whatever it was, because it was obviously a big something to her. But I couldn't overreact and validate her anxiety, either. Ooooofff.

As the last button was released, I eased her blouse from her shoulders, revealing a delicate collarbone, craving my attention. I'd need to get back to that later. Linda was wearing what looked to be a heavily padded bra, and as I slid the straps off her shoulders, she reached behind her and unclasped it, allowing me to slide it down her arms and off, tension radiating from her core.

What I saw was confusing. Her breasts were small, like 28A small, but that wasn't surprising; I'd assumed as much. But, she had two Band-Aids pressed tightly across each nipple in an X-formation. I glanced up at Linda, who was staring at me intently, looking for my reaction.

"I'm sorry, babe, I don't understand," I said, confusion on my face.

Keeping her eyes on mine, Linda reached down and removed the Band-Aids, freeing her nipples to expand. And they did. A lot. Within a few seconds, they stuck out three-quarters of an inch. Her areolas were small, making the nipples appear even more prominent.

I was lying on the couch between Linda's legs, my chest on her hips, and my head mere inches from her breasts. "They're beautiful," I breathed, my voice soft. And they were. A light shade of black, they were half an inch across and contrasted wonderfully with her olive complexion.

"I hate them. They're too big. I've always hated them," Linda said, in a small voice.

I was shaking my head, entranced. "They're beautiful," I whispered again. With my mouth an inch from her right nipple, I looked up into the greenest of eyes, golden flecks dull. "May I?" I asked. I could tell she was skeptical, just looking for a reason to justify her beliefs, but she gave me a tiny head nod.

I exhaled, warm breath causing a corresponding intake from Linda. I painted her breast with barely touching kisses, willing myself to go slowly, while my right hand traced figure eights lazily on her left breast. Linda's breathing was shallow, slitted eyes wary. Bringing my eyes to hers, I used the tip of my tongue to touch the tip of her nipple and she closed her eyes, teeth lightly biting her lower lip (nothing sexy about that...wow!). My cock was in complete agreement, growing uncomfortably inside my boxers.

I took her nipple into my mouth, bathing it gently with my tongue, feeling it swell. "You don't, mmmm, think I'm a, ahhh, freak, Tony?"

I gazed up into her wary eyes, gold flecks on the fence. "They're beautiful," I said, for the third time. "You're beautiful. So sexy," I added, before lowering my head back to her engorged nipple, now an inch-and-a-half stiff, my right hand beginning to gently roll her nipple with my palm.

"Ohmygaaawd," Linda moaned. "So sensitive, hmmmm," laying her head back and moaning quietly, while also pressing her pelvis up against my chest.

Time lost all relevance as I made love to Linda's breasts. They were exquisite; dark freckles dotted the landscape, and I explored every one, getting to know them intimately, keeping my mouth or hand in contact with one nipple or the other at all times, caressing and licking, kissing and nibbling. They were nothing short of magnificent.

"Don't stop," she panted.

"Yeth ma'am," I mumbled around her left nipple, nipping it with my teeth while twisting her right gently. I was nibbling a little harder on one nipple and pinching and pulling the other while Linda ground her pelvis upward into my chest, seeking contact with...anything.

Her breath suddenly changed in tenor, coming in short gasps, almost hyperventilating, as if she was close to an orgasm, so I took a chance and bit down, as hard as I dared, on her tortured, distended nub. Her short gasps stopped, then a deep breath in, and I was rewarded with a really loud, "YES!! HARDER! YES!! YES!! YES!!... FUUUUUCK!!!" as Linda came, stomach muscles contracting, goosebumps exploding across her body, a flush spreading from her chest to her ears, legs twitching uncontrollably, toes curling. "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck," she mumbled, gasping for air. I held her and held on, watching her face as she rode pleasure that seemed to come in waves, cresting one after another...it was incredible to witness.

After the last wave had coursed through her, as she took in great mouthfuls of air, trying to catch her breath, I scooted up her body and bathed her neck and collarbone with licks and kisses, cleaning away the sheen of sweat she was bathed in.

"I've never...and you never touched...soooo sensitive...and when you bit...straight to my clit...oh wow..." she was rambling, but I was getting the gist.

After her breathing normalized, I had to ask, "Baby, I didn't know a woman could cum from just..." I started.

"Me neither!!" Linda exclaimed, interrupting me. "Holy shit! It just came out of nowhere...BAM! I know they're sensitive; that's one reason I keep them taped down all the time. If they rub against my shirt, they hurt and I get a little excited, and then they just stick out more and everyone can see. It's sooo embarrassing."

"And none of your other boyfriends..." I asked.

Linda shook her head. "There have only been three and I just kept them distracted with other parts of my body. It wasn't too difficult," she grinned slightly.

"I'll bet," I replied, earning a light smack upside the head. "Before I take you into the bedroom and let you distract me with those other parts, why did you show them to me...why now?" I asked.

She lowered her eyes, suddenly shy. "Tony, I feel like I've known you forever, even though it's only been a week. It's like you're my fairy tale ending. I knew you wouldn't freak out...I hoped so, anyway...but if you were going to, I needed to know now, while my heart could still take the rejection." Looking up, she stared into my eyes. "Before all of it belongs to you."

Well, damn. I mean, what do you do when your fairy tale ending tells you that you're THEIR fairy tale ending? Better think of something fast, dumbass; you can't let an admission like that sit there very long without an appropriate response. I bent down and trailed my tongue around and over her beautiful nipple, earning a deep moan, before trailing up to Linda's exquisite collarbone and that heavenly little spot between her collarbone, and her long, tender neck. As I got to her ear and began to nibble, I whispered the truth. "Linda, you've had all of mine for a week now."

She stopped breathing for a second, and I worried I might've overstepped. And then she turned her head toward mine, grabbed my chin with some force, and hit me with one of her toe-curling kisses, her tongue forcing mine into submission. When she broke away, she looked deeply into my baby blues, her gold flecks sparkling like fireworks on the Fourth of July, her voice dropped an octave and she whispered, "Make love to me, baby."