On my twenty-first birthday I was a nerdy virgin who had never had a boyfriend. I had little self-confidence, a wardrobe of sweatshirts and jeans, glasses as thick as the bottom of coke bottles, braces on my teeth and no money in the bank. A year later the braces were gone, the glasses were gone, I had a designer wardrobe most women would kill for, an expensive sports car, a six figure bank account and an attitude of self-assurance that I know will carry me through life and allow me to achieve whatever I want. This is my story. The story of how I became The Math Slut.
A drunken driver killed my father when I was eleven years old. My mother never remarried and raised me on her salary as a math teacher at the local high school. As an only child my mother had high expectations of me. By my senior year I was a National Merit Scholar hoping for a scholarship that would allow me to attend one of the Ivy League schools so that I could one day be a professor of mathematics. Money was tight, so when I got into the school of my choice with a small scholarship, I was determined not to fail my mother or myself.
It all started so innocently in the second half of my sophomore year. I was taking a statistics course that was also a requirement for graduation for political science majors. The professor graded on a strict curve. I scored the possible on the first test and was the only A in the class. If you grade on a strict curve that means that there has to be at least one F on the exam as well. I gave it little thought. When I scored the only A on the second exam the professor commented as he passed back the papers that I had scored the only A and that another student, who would remain unnamed, had once again scored the only F and that I was setting a high standard for the class.
After class I was stopped in the hall by Brian Atherton, a second semester senior frat rat (he was president of the most prestigious fraternity on campus) who had never so much as said hello to me before. He explained that he had to pass statistics to graduate and that he would be willing to pay me fifteen dollars an hour to tutor him. My immediate response was that I did not have the time. I worked in the library Monday, Wednesday, Friday and weekend mornings to help pay my college expenses. I could tell that he was used to getting his way when he immediately said, "Ok, twenty-five an hour on Tuesdays and Thursday nights."
I thought twenty-five dollars an hour would mean that after six sessions I could afford the contact lenses I wanted so I said yes. My roommate in the dorm had a night class Tuesdays and Thursdays from 6 to 8 so we decided that would be when I would tutor him.
The first night I suggested we review the two tests he had failed to see what he did not know. Brian said that the whole situation of the two F's was embarrassing to him and could we work in my room and not the dorm study hall. After the first hour I realized that he had a real problem. Mathematics and Statistics are cumulative. If you don't get the basics in the beginning you will be completely lost. I explained to him that he was too far behind and should drop the class. That was when he told me he had taken the class twice before and dropped it. That he must have the class to graduate and that his father had a job lined up for him in an embassy in France. When I told him that I thought you had to pass the Foreign Service exam he just smiled and smugly said, "My father is a Democratic Representative in Congress, it doesn't matter what I score on the exam as long as I have a bachelors in political science." When I asked if he spoke any French his response was that he and his family had vacationed there many times and that he would pick-up what he needed to get by and that his father could get any language requirements waived, but he had to have the degree. At that point, I decided that I did not care whether the spoiled brat wasted his money or not.
By our fourth session Brian was making some headway, but I still thought he had little chance of passing the course. When I suggested that we consider more than the four hours a week and that I could find time on Saturday and Sunday afternoons, when I was done at the library, he told me that he could only do that every other weekend because his fiancée was going to school in the next state and he drove over to see her every other weekend.
Before our next session I got my braces off and Brian surprised me when he noticed and told me I had a pretty smile. At the end of our session he put his hand on my arm and thanked me for all that I was doing for him. Although I still thought he was a spoiled brat, I felt an electric shock shoot down to the bottom of my stomach when he touched me. Pure and simple, Brian was the best looking guy I had ever interacted with and he seemed to take an interest in me and I was beginning to have mixed feelings about him.
That weekend I got my gas permeable lenses (probabilities of adverse side effects were the lowest with gas permeable lenses and the price was right too). My eyes are hazel and when the optometrist suggested a green tint I jumped at the chance and the effect was remarkable. I even noticed it before the optometrist pointed it out. I have red hair and am very fair; the lenses made my eyes a deep iridescent green. I went straight from the optometrist's office to the best hair parlor in town and got my hair cut shorter in a stylish layered look that, I had to admit, made me look like a different person with the contacts and no braces.
I felt so good about my appearance that I borrowed a tank top from my roommate's closet and put on one of her mini skirts before Brian came over for his session that night. I always knew that I had a better body than 9 out of every 10 girls, but felt that my nerdy look from the neck up offset my shapely legs, tight butt, flat stomach and perky breasts. With the thick glasses gone, the braces gone and the shorter layered haircut I had to admit that I looked hot. Hotter than just about any girl on campus, but then my old feelings of inadequacy crept back and I had just decided to change back into one of my shapeless outfits when Brian knocked on my door.
When I opened the door he said, "Shelley, is that you?"
I smiled and said, "I guess so."
"Wow," he said, "I never realized you were so beautiful!"
When he said that I turned beet red, choked up, bit my bottom lip and turned away from him. I don't know why, but I began to cry. The next thing I knew we were in each other's arms and kissing. I could feel his hands on my neck as his tongue slid into my mouth and my knees began to buckle. It was my first kiss and I thought I was going to faint. Brian lowered me down onto my bed and knelt on the floor beside me. He continued to kiss me while he rubbed the sides of my breasts through the tank top. My nipples were so ridged that they actually hurt. When his hands slid under my tank top and he deftly unfasten my bra I began to quiver. When I felt his hands brush over my naked nipples I could feel the wetness soaking through my panties. Then I felt the cool air on my breasts and I opened my eyes and realized that Brian had rolled my tank top up around my neck and taken my bra totally off. Brian looked into my eyes and smiled before licking first my left nipple and then my right nipple. My breasts felt like they were going to explode! I closed my eyes again and put my hand behind his head holding his mouth against my nipples. When his finger pressed against my soaked panties I moaned in ecstasy and spread my legs wider. When his finger slipped under my panties and started to slide into me I clamped my legs together and said, "No we can't!"
Brian said nothing, but he did remove his hand from under my panties and started kissing me again. Then he took my hand and guided it down to his cock. When I felt his hot hard cock my hand closed around it. I was amazed at how hard and smooth it was. I could feel his pulse throbbing in it. Brian was now licking my stomach below my navel and working his way lower and lower. At that point I came to my senses and I grabbed each side of his head and raised his head up and said, "Brian we have to stop! We cannot have unprotected sex!"
I had a mixture of relief and regret when he said, "your right" and reached for his pants. But he wasn't reaching for his pants after all; he was looking for his wallet, where he kept a condom. I watched in fascination as he rolled it onto his cock and without another word he got up on the bed and rolled my panties down and off and then any last resistance I had was lost when he bent down and started licking me. I could feel his tongue working its way deeper and deeper inside me and I knew that I did not want him to stop.
After I began to squirm and push myself into his face he brought his head up and kissed me full on the lips and slid his tongue into my mouth. I could taste my own juices and was sucking on his tongue when I felt a slight pain as I lost my virginity. When he began to withdraw the feeling was so intense that I practically bit his tongue off as I came up off the bed trying to keep him in me. Then, when just the tip of his penis was still in me, he began to enter me again; only this time more deeply. When he started to withdraw from me again I reached up and sank my nails into his ass cheeks and greedily pulled him back down into me, my pubic bone grinding against his. After a few minutes we were slamming our bodies into each other and then I heard Brian say, "Oh shit!" and he came. I was still slamming into him when he withdrew from me and said, "We have to stop. I came and I only have one condom."
