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The Hardest Kind To Be Ch. 02

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That first week of classes would be fondly looked back on as one of the most purely exciting times of Ginnie’s life. She met dozens of new people, most of them as nervous and eager as she was to get into some kind of rhythm. Her schedule was all mornings–so it left her afternoons relatively dry and open to interpretation.

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays she had Spanish and Greek–having been talked into the former by her high school guidance counselor and the latter by Tina, who felt that one should be able to make lewd comments in a language only the overly educated would understand. It was a toss up between Latin and Greek, with the only difference being the sheer number of text books (with Latin several pounds ahead, and thus picked over).

Spanish class was a little more traditional than Greek. Where Spanish was a large auditorium in the History Department’s Building, taught to two hundred students at once–where nobody knew anyone’s name that wasn’t one seat away, Greek was a dozen or so people around a conference table in the Religion Department, on the third floor of Gan Hall. Everyone was looking at everyone else all period—which was disturbing and relaxed at the same time.

Ginnie, however, grew fond of her immediate surroundings in Spanish. There was a tall, black fellow to her right who always wore very sharply ironed jeans with a stiff crease in them–he looked like an athlete and stood well over 6′ tall. Maybe 6’6″? 6’8″? Ginnie was horrible at heights. But he smelled nice, and that was a good thing with such close proximity–he came to Spanish talking on a cell phone and smelling like pancakes. She knew his name was Durellion or something like that, but they never really spoke in class. He had a nice smile and wasn’t intimidating.

Tuesdays and Thursdays it was Calculus, English, and Biology. Her math class was just like high school: desks and chairs and teachers and chalk. She always did like math, so this was the easier portion of those mornings. Nobody ever really talked in class, though many fell asleep–she didn’t figure on making any new friends there.

English was a small discussion group of thirty students and one very young looking teacher’s assistant. From what she could glean of the course, she’d never meet the professor–but he’d make tests and require readings and grade essays. Her T.A. was a young man who couldn’t have been more than thirty named Yoseph–he had a faint accent that she couldn’t place, but was energetic when he talked and seemed to ignore the dumb stares he got when asking questions about the readings.

Ginnie felt a little flushed whenever he’d look at her. He was also very tall–though that’s not too hard when you’re a bit short–with brown, faintly graying hair and green eyes. He called her Miss Morris, and she felt a little bit faint whenever he did. So silly, she thought, but Tina had been helping her be o.k. with being a little silly–so no harm there. She’d mentioned Yoseph to Tina, only to be horribly mocked and teased about him well into lunch the next day. She took it in good humor and even made some jokes, herself, about crushing on him.

The campus of the University was, by all accounts, gorgeous. It was one of the things that attracted Ginnie to go there–besides her sister, of course. There were trees and green everywhere, large open areas dedicated to green grass and tall oaks and colorful magnolia trees. Ginnie was used to a colder climate, a place where the green was thick and brushy–here, though, was a place where the green kind of splayed out and relaxed, soaking up the sun.

It was still Summer-ish and the boys and girls (and young men and women) went to and fro in shorts and t-shirts and jeans–casual attire that conflicted with what her and most other freshman were wearing… presses pants, collared shirts, and a look that just screamed “I’m looking my best, please notice!” It was warm enough to be a northern summer, despite being a southern fall here. The sun and humidity won out by nine in the morning, and anyone not ready for some heat wound up succumbing to the elements before breakfast was over.

Tina and Ginnie shared only the one class, Greek. It was full of nerdy types and bookworms, all of them boys, most with disheveled clothing and unkempt features. Both girls took their stares a little differently. Where Tina proceeded to frequently lean over to this fellow or that fellow, picking different ones to sit by each day, leaning close and whispering so very near their ear for help on this or “what did the professor say?” kind of artifices; Ginnie was more comfortable sitting there and trying not to make eye contact with any of them, though her and Tina traded funny drawings of one particularly intent and angry boy at the end of the table named Carlos.

After the first week of classes, with the first weekend’s arrival, it seemed as though Tina and Ginnie had known each other for years. They caught lunch together three times a week, and saw each other for dinner and evening dorm visits with other girls every night. They were almost canlı bahis inseparable. If Tina was walking up to a guy to ask for a cigarette and a light (and coming in very close to get the latter for the former), it was Ginnie sitting on the bench laughing at the poor boy’s “deer in the headlights” reaction. And if Ginnie was missing an opportunity to meet someone new, it was Tina introducing her instead. Time spent around Tina was time she, magically, found herself not tripping over her own words or being awkward. She didn’t know whether that was more because of Tina’s flamboyant nature rubbing off a bit, or because college was just a different place.

And all during that week, Ginnie had been surprised to see that Sissy–the only part of her high school to follow her halfway across the world like this–was nowhere to be found. If the blonde came to their room, it was during times when Ginnie wasn’t there. Things would be out of place from one day to the next, but Ginnie couldn’t tell when Sissy was coming or going–and she really stopped caring, one way or the other, by that first Saturday.

That was the Saturday of the party, and her first real sexual encounter.

. . .. … …..

“So… sit down and try not to gush while I show off my assets. I do not need you dreaming about me tonight, because that would just be uber-creepy considering I’m going to have some sweaty man groping your yum-yums by one in the morning… and he deserves better than to have his conquest dreaming of some foxy redhead’s sweet, sweet butt.”, Tina rattled on and on while Ginnie sat on her bed casually reading the latest from Yoseph’s class–Hamlet. It wasn’t bad.

“I still don’t want to have sex with you.” Ginnie replied nonchalantly, rolling her eyes jokingly. She was used to Tina’s humorous accusations, and smiled genuinely. The girl had a way with words, after all.

“Oh, you lying bitch. Oh, well fine. Look, it’s the party of the century tonight at the Rho Pi house and I insist you and I both look our best. I want to be well dressed if I have to call Brandon”, Tina flitted about her room–a single dorm room all to herself and, thus, spacious as hell. She started throwing things out of her closet onto the spare bed while Ginnie waited patiently for the outfits to show up.

Tina, apparently satisfied that she’d tossed out all the unworthy clothes, shot to her feet and daintily turned around like a debutante presenting herself.

“Alright. I want honesty, Ginnie dear. If you lie, I will know. I will sense it in my journalistic ovaries”, Tina had been flirting with journalism as a major and hadn’t lost an opportunity to bring it up in polite conversation.

“Oh, I’ll tell you if you look like a… y’know… a skank.” Ginnie giggled. She couldn’t imagine joking about calling someone a skank a week ago, but so much changes so fast.

“Please do”, Tina curtly replied. The tall redhead grabbed the hem of her little blue t-shirt and lifted it over her head while she kicked off her sneakers. Ginnie hadn’t noticed the disrobing, being much more interested in thinking about Yoseph acting out the duel scene the next day–and get a little warm while doing it.

But, with the wriggling and muffled vulgarities coming from underneath the half-on/half-off shirt and a bobbing around Tina, Ginnie couldn’t help but notice the girl struggling comically. In between chuckles, Ginnie noticed–for the first time since they’d met–just how amazingly put together Tina was.

With her arms wrapped up over her head, and the lack of shirt–Tina was proudly displaying assets Ginnie hadn’t truly noticed before. The tight line of her abdomen, perfectly toned without being muscular; breasts that seemed to either supported by God’s most perfect bra, or sheer genetics–it wasn’t that she was surprised that Tina had boobs, she could kinda tell that already, it was that where Ginnie had figured the redhead invested in a pushup or something a bit padded… it appeared to be the case that the implied C-cups were actually real.

Ginnie was silent as could be while Tina kept undressing. The latter not noticing the stares while she unbuttoned and stripped off her jeans. A pair of tiny, hip-hugging white panties hardly covered an athletic form. It never occurred to Ginnie to ask Tina if she had done any sports, but she was almost certain the girl had to have run track or done some kind of athletics. Her legs, though fair and white, were firm and shapely, and when she turned around that thin scrap of white fabric did nothing to hide a dancer’s butt. High and firm, with narrow hips to accentuate the thin waistline.

While following the line of those panties around and around, as the other girl pulled off socks and turned towards the closet, Ginnie was absolutely mesmerized. She’d never seen such a beautiful woman mostly naked like this before. She truly didn’t know how to not stare; she wondered why everyone didn’t just gape at people like Tina all the time. She wondered what her skin maybe felt like… was it… smooth and… it looked canlı rulet cool… like, maybe a little bit cold to the touch–like porcelain.

She looked a little longer and wondered how those panties, as small as they were, could cover Tina’s…

“Hey! You! I’m up here. I swear I’m going to do this by myself if you don’t start getting with the program. I totally knew you wanted me.”, Tina put her hands on her hips and looked angry–while trying to hold back the giggling.

Ginnie snapped to immediately. Where was she, where had she been? Where had those thoughts come from?

“I’m just wondering”, she started–not knowing where she was going with it, “How come you’re covered under that? Do you… y’know… shave? Like, there?”

Tina dropped the frowning and went back to her usually chipper self while she searched for something to wear on the bed.

“Well, no. No, I don’t. Because I’m not putting anything sharp like that near my”, she waved her hand around her crotch, “…my, y’know, lady-parts. But, I do get waxed. It hurts a little, but it’s totally worth it.”

“Oh. Well, yeah.” Ginnie hadn’t tried that before, though she’d given the shaving a go when she was younger out of boredom and curiosity. It made her itch and she didn’t really need or like it.

“Anyhow, let’s get back to the topic at hand”, the redhead sparked as she hopped down from the high-rise bed, “What outfit has the sinful duty of covering all this hotness? Hmmmm? How about the green?” Tina grabbed a green minidress that looked more like a large legwarmer than a dress and slipped it on. The velvety material hugged every line and curve, her toned tummy was outlined faintly in the cloth, her hips and legs looked amazing contrasted against the fabric. She looked like a model.

Which… come to think of it…?

“Wait… Tina, can I ask you something?” Ginnie almost whispered.

The redhead leaned down as though about to hear a confession not meant for others.

“What?”, she put on a look that was half-comical and half-curious, a sort of wide-eyed panic that seemed more in line with a grown-up humoring a child’s telling of a seeeeecret.

“Have you ever… been, like, a model?” Ginnie hushed.

Tina looked at her for a second, right into her eyes–those blue eyes just fiercely studying the motive behind such a question. They were almost nose to nose, and Ginnie was half-frightened that the girl might yell or get offended–though why she should was beyond her.

Tina sort of nodded to herself, not really an admission of anything the question was asking, but more of a response to some kind of internal inquiry. The pretty redhead sort of nodded to herself, with a tight-lipped thoughtfulness and put her hands on either side of Ginnie’s face.

Very soft, very intentional hands, very long fingers running their way back into Ginnie’s hair behind her head. Tina leaned in and kissed her on the nose.

“Ginnie, hon, that was the nicest thing anyone’s said to me, ever”, Tina still nodded to herself and looked the brunette in the eyes with a genuine camaraderie. “Now, can we get back to the outfits?”

Ginnie was smiling; Tina had a way of making everything worth smiling about.

“Sure. I think you look like a skank in that. What else you got?” she prodded.

Tina, in a flourish both funny and overdramatic, peeled the green dress off and went back to the pile.

“Oh, much, dah-ling. I have much clothes. Too much clothes!” she prattled on. After three outfits, they’d found the perfect match. A pair of tight white capris, an unreasonably evident black thong, and a white blouse–a little too small–covering a matching black lace bra. With the right accessories and sassy white hat, Tina looked like something on a New York nightclub scene. She looked casual and sexy, and Ginnie was certain her friend would knock them all dead at whatever party she was going to.

“Your turn. We have to get you done up and we haven’t time for you to argue with me. So… do you trust me?” Tina put her hands up in her usual “are you a wild animal about to attack” pose.

“I didn’t know I was going… I didn’t… you didn’t say,” Ginnie stuttered on and on.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Gin. I can’t just walk in alone. Look at me. They… will… rape… me. I need backup. I need someone to throw to the rapists as I run away.” she smirked.

It seemed like whenever Tina smirked, it made everything else o.k. Ginnie hadn’t really thought about going to a party, but this was college–she absolutely had to start off college different than high school. She must go to parties and not be a wallflower. She knew this.

“Alright. I trust you. But, c’mon… nothing too crazy. I’m not ready for all that.” she implored her impulsive friend.

Tina looked her over, like a doctor inspecting a new medical experiment. She poked and prodded, jokingly.

“Ah, jess, jess. Ve can do somptink, ‘ere. I vill make you my latest creation”, Tina went on as she started stripping the brunette. She continued online rulet her bad German accent while unbuttoning this and undoing that until Ginnie, a little embarrassed, stood there in her underwear.

Tina took a step back, and ceased looking comical.

“Wow. You’re a piece, aren’t you?” she mused while turning to look for an outfit.

Confused, Ginnie just stood there. A what? A piece?

“What do you mean I’m a piece?” she demanded.

Tina was tossing clothes right and left, never looking up or turning back toward her.

“I mean you’re well put together. You shouldn’t wear all those clothes. I mean, you’ve got nice boobs–like, manageable ones. All sorts of cute bras and whatnots will fit you. And you’re very… womanly.” Tina never turned around.

“Womanly? Is that your way of saying ‘fat’?”, Ginnie crossed her arms in front of her and cocked a hip. Ginnie had always thought of herself as “dumpy”. She was thicker than Tina, not as fit or toned, but she’d never really thought of herself positively–physically anyway. She was alright, maybe.

“No, not a bit. With the right outfit–and hon, it’s always about the right outfit–I bet you get a few knocks on your windowsill tonight. You wear frumpy clothes. You need to relax a little. You’re pretty foxy; you just need the right look. And… HA… there we go. This is perfect”, Tina spun around with something small and black.

“I can’t wear this anymore because I grew a few inches over the last couple of years, but this would totally fit you. On me, it looks like I’m a hooker. On you, it should be perfect. Like a junior hooker.” Tina shook out the black dress. It looked harmless enough–a little tight, but otherwise it might be alright.

“Are you sure?” Ginnie, “Isn’t it a little… small?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Tina sparkled.

“Well, yeah.”

. . .. … …..

“C’mon, boy… do it for me”, Ginnie moaned into his ear.

“C’mon, pump it faster,” she pleaded with her best little girl voice, “God, it’s so thick and hard. I’ve never seen such a big… hard… dick before.”

She had her face pressed against his, whispering throatily into his ear with one arm around his neck and the other clutching his collar. Her dress was up over her waist and Troy was standing there with his back up against the bathroom door while the music poured over the whole house.

She felt his hands roaming around her back and dropped her hands to his, sliding them sharply to her ass.

“Right there, you like that, huh? I’m getting so hot, so wet when you grab me like that.”

She feverishly gripped his shirt collar and occasionally nipped his ear, “Faster, boy. Please? I want you to come on me. I want to see that big… hard… dick come on me. You can do that for me, can’t you?” she cooed.

“Uh… hmmmm… yeah… yeah”, he grunted as she lightly ground her body against his, his hand gripping and jacking his cock feverishly.

Ginnie snaked her hand down around the base of his cock, and squeezed as hard as she could, “Keep stroking it, I just wanna hold it like this. Oh, God, that’s hard. Mmmmm. C’mon, boy. C’mon–for me. Cum for me, faster baby. Faster.” she panted into his ear.

Not three minutes after she had slammed him against the bathroom door and begged for him to pull it out, Troy began bucking lightly and groaning as he came all over her tummy and down the front of the red panties Tina had picked out.

“Oh, shit… oh, my fucking God.” Troy was panting.

Ginnie kept squeezing his cock and felt it jerking in her hand. She ran her palm up his shirt–wiping her hand off in the process–and grabbed him by the jaw, turning his head toward her and looking him right in the eye.

“Mmmmmm, I liked that. Thanks.” she winked. Ginnie pulled her dress down and nudged him out of the way and went back to the party–making a bee-line for Tina, who was sitting smugly on the couch in the next room over drinking a beer and trying not to laugh.

The lights were psychedelic and wild and the music was so loud that between the noise and the crowd, Ginnie was on a different planet by the time she reached her friend. She sat there, breathing hard and trying not to laugh.

Tina nestled up to her and dropped her head on Ginnie’s shoulder.

“So. I’m a little drunk. Did it work?” the redhead asked, only slurring her words a bit.

Ginnie started giggling, and lowered her head so nobody else might hear.

“I did everything you said. Everything. I can’t believe that just happened. How is it that easy? He didn’t stop me or anything.” she raced on, “He just looked surprised and then pulled his thing out and I told him exactly what you said and he just did it. What the fuck?”

She couldn’t believe it.

Tina leaned up and looked her in the eye.

“Dah-ling. It’s that easy. You’re not hard on the eyes, and you gave him an excuse to get off. That’s almost as hard as it is. And see? I told you, just put it on your terms and they’re like puppies. If you’d have bent over the sink and told him to fuck you, he’d have fucked you. If you had offered to blow him, he’d have let you. But, hey, just get up in their space, flirt a little, sound sexy and confidant, and they’ll do what you want. It was good for him, too.” she mumbled, smiling.

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