The man who goes his way
Overbearing in word and deed
Who fears no justice
Honors no temples of society
May an evil destiny seize him
And punish his ill-starred pride
It was the beginning of September, summer was ending its slow transformation into fall and school was just starting. While for most teenagers this all seemed one step short of Armageddon, Martin Justin had been eagerly awaiting it. Martin was a Senior, and just having turned 18, he also was a man; well, at least, almost. He felt mature, strong and revitalized by the rest the summer had given him. He had already been accepted to Boston College on a lacrosse scholarship, so academics could take a back seat to fun. He was set.
Admittedly, High School had not been the easiest of things for him in the past. He had never been troubled by the work, or making friends, of which he had plenty. Martin simply was shy around the girls who he was attracted to. A bit dopey also. Intuition, the so-called, "6th sense" was not a strength of his either. Martin, was a klutz around the girls he really liked, and though he was much livelier around those he had less feeling for, he never asked out the right ones. It was as if he was forever cursed to like girls he could not have, and be liked by girls he did not want. Sexually he was still very inexperienced. He had kissed and touched and dreamed but never farther. This year though, was to be different. It was not that Martin was much more confident that he had been before, he just was a lot more determined.
The first day of school was a fashion show for all the popular girls at Ulysses Grant High. For Martin it was better than porn. As he walked to his class, he first saw the sporty Carmen, dressed in short soccer shorts, barely covering an impressive ass so large and well-shaped it had been deemed by Martin as historically significant. He took her body in. Her breasts stretched the fabric of her tight spaghetti strap top, which he judged as probably two sizes to small. The top also revealed her tanned, taught stomach and a pierced navel. Her hair glistened gold in the morning sun and as Martin admired her delicate facial features, he realized he was asking for too much.
"Hi", they both said, and she was gone.
Next came Anna, a wonderful example of why it might not have been so bad if the Soviet Union had won the cold war. Martin's eyes took in her face, creamy white, almost void of color, but not of passion. Her beautiful hair hung almost to her waist. Then he locked onto her tits as he always did when he saw her. For the occasion she had decided against wearing a bra and her nipples, hardened by a cool breeze showed through the thin white top. Martin had always loved Anna, though his good sense warned against it. She was intelligent, but she did not think; she was witty but shallow, and she did not give a rip about him. He loved her for all of it. When they were in Middle School Martin had e-mailed her poems he had written for her. She had always praised their content, but never seen the longing that was behind them. He worshipped her for her indifference. There she was.
"Hi Anna", he exclaimed maybe too enthusiastically.
"Hi Martin", she answered with false excitement.
They stopped in the hallway to talk. Martin trembled as Anna spoke. They talked about what they had done over the summer and how exciting Senior year would be. She laughed as he joyously described his summer trip to Lake Tahoe. Only temporarily satisfied with this small triumph, he searched for hidden meaning and untold emotion in her eyes, and he found nothing. So, he redirected his focus and looked for the same things in her chest. She was beautiful. Her hair fell into her eyes as she talked; she brushed it away. She dropped her English notebook, and they both went down to pick it up. Her face was now just inches away from his and her hair fell over his shoulders. Her perfect breasts seemed to be trying to weasel their way out of her low-cut top. They shared a moment without speech. The bell rang, and the wonderful silence was over much too soon. She stood up and headed off to 1st period.
"Bye", he shouted as she walked away.
"See you."
Martin's 1st period class was Calculus. He had always excelled in math without really trying to understand the underlying concepts. In fact, Martin had never spent much effort in succeeding at anything, barring dating. This made his inability to decipher the female animal all the more confounding to him.
A friend of his had once told him that, "getting girls is like riding a bike. Once you learn how, you never forget." Martin had cracked wise about how, if that was so; it seemed he still had training wheels on his bike. While it was funny at the time, the idea always loomed large in his mind. Was it possible to skip a step? Could one so inexperienced step into a real relationship without blowing it? As the second bell rang signifying the start of the period, Martin felt good. He would find an experienced girl. Maybe two or three years younger than him and use her to gain the experience needed to aim higher.
Though Calculus was a brainy class in general, Martin trained eyes quickly locked onto a lone beauty amongst the gnomes that surrounded him. Her name was Brittany Weinstein, pride and joy of a very rich mother and father. She was synonymous with cruel rejection though, to most of the Grant High population. She felt she was out of almost everyone's league and acted likewise. To Martin, she was extremely well groomed, and pretty though not beautiful. She was tan and thin. Her chest was unspectacular though respectable. She was rumored to give incredible blowjobs. Martin's eyes roamed lower. He stared at her legs. Long and bronzed by the California sun, they were something to be worshipped. His imagination took over. He thought what it would be like to be with her, to experience her, to posses her. As a reaction to her stuck-up manner, he always fantasized about dominating her. He stared harder and mentally experienced her sucking his cock. He pushed her off and ordered her to strip and bend over with her back to him. He felt her perfect aristocratic ass and shoved his cock into it. He shouted at her, calling her a bitch. She wanted to get away but was too aroused. Someone told a joke, and the laughter ended his fantasy. Back in class, he noticed a boner had risen in his pants. He blushed; embarrassed by his voyeurism. He looked away. The teacher droned on and on about everything under the sun. He fell asleep to dreams of romance.
Martin awoke to the voice of a girl he did not know.
"Wake up sleepy head," she said. Her voice was calm and reassuring. She had a faint British accent she seemed to be trying to repress. Her hand was on his head, comforting him as he came out of his sleep.
"Hi, ah, Thank you for waking me up, um, I-I, so what's your name?" he stammered, his vision still blurred from his nap. She laughed at his awkwardness. His vision snapped into focus. Her hair was dark and it framed a sweet face. He thought she was pretty.
