North-east America, or New England as some folks call it is very nice, the colonial houses, the fall colours, the friendly people, but after a month there I was craving much more. I wanted to experience the flesh, and sweat that New England had to offer.
I remembered Chelsea, the young college freshman I met back in the fall, and the fun I had with her. I had sex with her... at least four times, and twice after I pumped her full of sperm, her boyfriend unknowingly ate her out!
Armed with a first name, and knowledge of where she went to school, I started a very creepy search for her on social media. To those who question the morality of my actions, I ask you if you have not done the same?
I did find her very quickly, and sent a message; I figured a friend request might tip off her boyfriend back home. She replied back happily, and we renewed our friendship. It wasn't very sexual; mostly we'd talk via video chat about politics, her classes, and world news.
Sometimes she would talk over her phone, other times with her computer, but always she would have someone in the room with her. I first noticed the blur of red hair as her mysterious friend walked by, and later the two would exchange quick whispers.
Initially I accepted this, her friend a silent voyeur to our discussions, but two things were wrong with this first I have a weakness for redheads, and second, Chelsea had never refused me before, perhaps this could be turned into an opportunity?
"Chelsea." I said one day while we video chatted. "Who is that behind you?"
"Oh, no one..." She said innocently. "Tell me again why Hilary would ruin America?"
I could see the red hair move slightly in the background, she must have heard me asking about her.
"She wants to offer social services without improving the quality of jobs in America, who will pay for it all? The rich? Ha! But forget about that; you're dodging MY question." I said.
Chelsea rolled her eyes.
"Where I come from, it's very rude not to introduce your friends." I said to her politely.
"And where is it that you're from..." She replied with a sly grin.
I began to stammer out a reply when her friend appeared on screen. She had a big shy smile, a retroussé nose, and the whitest skin I had seen outside of Ireland. Her rusty coloured hair was a tangled mess partially tamed by a green scrunchie.
"Hi!" She said, vigorously waving her hand.
"Hello." I said back. "What's your name?"
"I'm Britney!" She replied excited. "But everyone calls me Ginger!"
"I'm pleased to meet you Brit... I mean Ginger. I wonder why they call you that?" I asked.
"Ha ha ha, it's my red hair!" She said back to me.
"Do the curtains match the..." I started to say.
"None of your business!" Ginger replied to me loudly.
"Maybe I should make it my business." I said in a serious voice.
She blushed heavily, and all of us laughed very hard. Chelsea came back, and pushed her friend out of the way.
"Chelsea, let me take you out for dinner? We're old pals, and I like winning arguments with you." I said in a playful way.
"I dunno..." Chelsea said.
"You can bring Ginger." I suggested.
"Sure!" a voice declared from behind her.
"No!" Chelsea said firmly.
"My treat." I said trying to sweeten the deal.
"We'll maybe." She replied weakly. "I gotta go, my boyfriend wants to video chat."
"Talk to you later." I said to a blank screen.
I sat confused in my hotel room; I was only an hour away from her all-girl Christian college. An hour later my phone lit up with a message from Chelsea, it read. 'I don't want Ginger to know. Can you come this weekend, early in the morning?'
I replied yes, and instead of dinner, I got to have her all to myself.
The week flew by quickly; I spent my free time in my hotel's gym, running off my excitement, one marathon at a time. I also bought a sack of celery, and ate it religiously, over the years; I found it increased my sperm loads, something I'd need for our day together.
The night before, I slept poorly; I was too excited about our day together. I also hadn't had sex in a couple of weeks, and was almost shaking with desire!
Chelsea had given me some tips on slipping into her school. She had put my name on the list of approved visitors even before I found her, but she recommended that I wear a suit, and carry a briefcase so I looked important.
The school was a vast complex, and looked to have dated from when the Dutch ruled that part of the country. The walls, arches, and buildings all reminded me of Rotterdam where I lived in my 20's, and warmed my heart on that cold day.
