Sunday, March 14, 2010

A Squeal of Delight

Whether I really wanted to or not, Gabbie and I spent a lot of time together. Even after the twice-per-week field trips stopped in the fifth week, we ended up being the only two students in a class together, 18th Century English Novels. How weird is that, to have a class with just you, your girlfriend, and the professor?

One of the consequences of spending a lot of time together was that I got to know Gabbie pretty well within a few weeks.

One thing I learned was that Gabbie did not muzzle her emotions. If she was happy, she glowed with a radiance that made everyone around her happy. If she was upset about something, she was vicious and relentless. Once I got used to her roller coaster personality I found that I mostly enjoyed the ride. Her joy could be so extreme that seeing her happy was more pleasurable to me than almost anything I could experience myself. For example, her birthday was at the end of October. In advance of her birthday she told me exactly what she wanted: flowers, a thoughtful gift, a card and dinner. A lot of guys would have been put off by her demands. I liked them, for two reasons. First, I was clueless, and was therefore glad to have any guidance. Second, when I did exactly what she wanted, in the best way I could manage, she was orgasmically happy. I felt like such a good man, that I could make a girl that happy.

Another thing that I learned about Gabbie was that she was strictly raised by Catholic parents. She was full of Catholic guilt. This was good for me because it meant that I could be "respectful" and not spend every minute alone with her with my hands inside her bra or down her pants. She liked that I didn't treat her as sexual object. I suppose this was part of the reason that she made a habit of dating closeted gay men.

Although Gabbie was a virgin she wasn't exactly a prude.

As the weeks passed, she got more and more forward with me, even though we both stayed fully clothed. In the early weeks she would come to my room late at night and sit on my bed while I was in it, talking to me. After a while she started laying with me on the bed, which led to kissing. The kissing led to our bodies being pressed together, which led to dry humping. I think the humping was an especially big turn on for her because she usually wore ribbed tights and the texture of them provided some rather gratifying stimulation.

Not once was there any genital contact, not even a sly slip of the hand. Whatever she wanted to do was perfectly acceptable to me. I was in no hurry to sleep with a woman.

Around mid-November I told Gabbie that I was disappointed because I was running low on money. Our semester was scheduled to end on December 18th and I had bought a return ticket for December 23rd. My plan was to travel in England for those few days but now I couldn't. The next day she surprised me with news that she had spoken to her parents and they were sending her more money. She was going to lend me some and use the rest to travel with me during that week. Normally I would not have wanted to borrow any money from her but my situation was dire. If I didn't borrow the money I would have been forced to return home to my parents for an extra five full days. In the England vs. parents debate, England won. In seconds.

The last month of the semester progressed very smoothly. Unlike the first five weeks which were sunny, relaxed and full of travel, the final five weeks were academically intense. The most difficult of my three classes was the 18th Century Novels tutorial. The professor was quite good but also quite demanding. We met twice a week and for each class we had to read a book and write a paper. Are you familiar with 18th Century English novels? Moll Flanders, Tom Jones, Pamela, Tristam Shandy, Middlemarch, The Mill on the Floss, Vanity Fair? LONG and boring as shit. Middlemarch is 912 pages. Vanity Fair, 768. Tom Jones, 1024. You get the idea. The papers had to be 4-5 pages. And for better or worse, we didn't have computers. Or typewriters. Our papers were all hand-written and we had to read them aloud in class. As I said, it was just Gabbie and me in this class, so it really annoyed the shit out me when she would stay out until 2am the night before class, having only read half the required novel. But that's not what was annoying. Rather, it was that she would come back at 2, read for two or three hours, write her paper in 90 minutes, then sleep for two hours and go to class the next morning, FULLY prepared and completely alert. I had never seen anyone power through academic work like she could.

All the classwork meant that as the sun was setting at 3:30pm every day in Oxford in December I was not thinking about sex with anyone. Instead I was wishing I was done reading fucking Tristam Shandy so I could fucking write my stupid paper.

As much as I complained about that class, it was one of the best I had ever taken. Not because of the reading but because of the writing. I was forced to write a lot and to do it without the benefit of a computer. It was a fantastic, albeit grueling, experience. The VERY best part, however, was that on the final day of the class we learned our grades. I received an A. Gabbie an A-. In yo face, bitch! That'll teach you to drink until 2am before every class!

She was pissed that I got the better grade but the next day she took her revenge.

When it was time to pack up our rooms and leave school I had the same backpack I had when I arrived. Gabbie paid to ship her trunk, thankfully, but she still had one HUGE suitcase, two medium suitcases and three smaller bags of I-don't-know-what. Oh. One was a purse.

"Oh my god Gabbie, why do you have so much stuff? What is in all these suitcases?"

"Shoes."

There was no way she could have made it from Oxford to London to the airport with all those bags by herself. I suppose the fact that I helped her with her trunk on the first day, and her liking me for it, was really just her way of planning in advance to have a bag-slave ready when it was time to leave the school.

Gabbie had so much shit that it was impossible for both of us to carry everything at once through the Underground of London. In the Tube there were many long tunnels, stairs, twists, turns, and escalators. And lots of people. In order for us to move from one location to another we had to take multiple trips, leaving bags on both ends while we crossed in the middle. We probably couldn't do it today. We'd be arrested for leaving unattended luggage in a crowded Tube station.

Our first travel destination was Edinburgh which meant that we had to go from the Paddington train station in London to the Kings Cross station which was also in London. After hauling the bags through two different Underground lines I was able to convince Gabbie to pay and check most of her bags into storage at Kings Cross. There was no way I was going to drag all that crap through Edinburgh.

Edinburgh was a fine city. Very interesting. The castle on the hill in the middle of the city and the people are what I remember best. The people were memorable mostly because we couldn't understand what they were saying half the time, although they were supposedly speaking English.

After two days in Edinburgh we took the train back to London and we spent a night there in South Kensington. Gabbie and I had been traveling together for nearly three full days which meant that I had not had an opportunity to masturbate that whole time. In the hotel in South Kensington my horniness got the best of me. In Oxford our pattern was to mostly kiss and then eventually dry hump for a while. The humping was just a tease because neither of us got *that* excited. But in London we were alone and I was unusually horny. All the fore-play really got me going and for the first time ever I used my hand to massage her pussy through her tights. Her response was tremendous. The sexual tension in her body was immense and as I felt her body stiffening I couldn't help but to climb on and rub my jean-clad cock across her fully-covered cunt. In only two short minutes she whispered in my ear, "I'm going to cum" which just about sent me over the edge. I held on as long as I could which was just barely into the first whimper of her orgasm. It was so damn hot to listen to her squeal in my ear that I came almost simultaneously with her.

Afterward I thought she'd be mad at me or be mad at herself even. But she was calm. We didn't talk about what we had done but she seemed ok with it.

The next morning we traveled to Portsmouth so that we could take a ferry to the Isle of Wight. The Isle of Wight is a huge tourist destination in the summer. It's beaches are well-known.
In December, the island was completely vacant. We got into Yarmouth around 5:30pm and not only was it dark but it was pouring rain. We hadn't made any hotel reservations but when I called a Bed and Breakfast the owner was so glad to have guests that he drove in the rain to the ferry station to pick us up.

I'm not certain now why I chose the Isle of Wight. One of our school field trips had been to Winchester and I think we were told on a tour there how popular the Isle of Wight was, so that is probably why we decided to go. We only stayed one night but it was unexpectedly romantic. With no one else around it was just the two of us in a small cafe for dinner. And the next morning we had the B & B proprietor waiting on just us for a delicious, traditional English breakfast. Then on the beach I fooled around and wrote our names "Cam + Gabbie" in the sand. Gabbie really liked that. At night we dry-humped again but I felt that I had gone too far when I had massaged her the previous night so I kept my hands to myself.

The next morning we didn't have time to do much sight-seeing. The following day was the 23rd and we had to catch our flight to San Francisco early that morning. This meant that we had to leave the Isle of Wight right after a fish and chips lunch in order to make it London by 7pm.

In London, we stayed in the same hotel in South Kensington. In fact, we stayed in the same room. Just being there made me extra horny and I thought to myself, what the hell, so after we had been grinding as usual I started squeezing her pussy through her tights. She let me do it for a minute or two then she said, "You don't have to do that." I took that as my clue to stop, so I did, even though I ended up with a bad case of blue balls. I could hardly sleep that night I was so horny. At 5am I was up and went to the bathroom for a quick shower where I finally got some relief.

That morning was crazed because we had to go back to Kings Cross to get all her crap, then we had to schlep it through two Tube lines again before we finally hauled it all through the baggage check-in line at Heathrow. I watched them weigh the largest bag and slap a big "HEAVY BAG" sticker on it. It weighed more than eighty pounds.

Once we were on the plane and in the air both our thoughts were on home and our future. In spite of all the time that we had spent together we had never really talked about it. My intentions had never changed. From the minute that she forced me to say that I liked her I had seen the end of England as the end of our relationship. The bad news was that the three months that we had been together only made breaking up much more difficult to do. As I sat on the plane and thought about it, I knew that I couldn't just dump her the minute we touched down in California. Instead I thought I would let time and distance make it easier.

As I looked down at the snow on the Sierra Nevada mountains, I thought about how unbelievable it was that when I left California I was looking forward to being "out" for the very first time and yet when I returned four months later I was accompanied by a steady girlfriend of more than three months. It was all so bizarre to me, how it had happened completely against my intentions.

As we began the decent into San Francisco Gabbie asked me, "When will we see each other again?"

I tried to be as diplomatic as possible and answered, "Maybe in a few days. I'll be home for a week before I have to go back to school so maybe we can see each other one day then." I couldn't look at her when I spoke.

"Ok." Now that she had replied I looked at her and tried to give her my most reassuring smile. I also tried to read her thoughts but I couldn't tell what she was thinking.

After we had trudged, fully laden, off the plane and through customs we entered the public area of the International Terminal. Both sets of our parents were there to greet us. Everyone was introduced to everyone else and we walked to baggage claim for the rest of Gabbie's bags. There at the baggage carousel we said our goodbyes. As we hugged Gabbie said, "I'll call you tomorrow."

I answered, "Ok."

The next day, the 24th, the phone rang at 10am. It was Gabbie.

"Can you come see me today?"

"Um....sure. Maybe for a little while."

Our parents lived about an hour and 15 minutes apart. Gabbie lived in a part of the Bay Area that I had never really been to before. Fortunately, with the use of a map and her directions I was able to find the McDonalds where we agreed to meet. As we sat and ate our first meal together in the States, Gabbie said, "You're so funny. You told me we would see each other again next week and here you are the very next day!"

I silently groaned to myself. I know. Believe me, I know.

To Gabbie I did not reply. Instead, I smiled politely.

No comments:

Post a Comment