My father had been abusive to me, my three sisters and my mother. He was killed in an auto accident while driving drunk. I only went to the funeral to assure myself that he was really dead. I was 16.
My mother had taken out a fairly large life insurance policy on him because he had no thoughts about providing for his family if he died. Now he was gone. My mother spent the next two years pounding into my head that I needed to respect women. When time came for college, she said she would pay for all of it if I went to the college she chose for me. Of course I went to the college she chose for me. I was not the brightest one around, but I was not stupid.
A relatively new college had recently been accredited in a pleasant location in the South. It was called Anthony College in honor of some woman from a hundred years ago. It had been founded, and was still run, by women. However, men were heavily recruited and many were offered scholarships. The student body was about 51% female and 49% male, not a bad balance. The promotional literature said that all students would be given many opportunities to learn more about themselves and to integrate the many different facets of their personalities. This all sounded like nonsense to me, but I wasn’t paying for it.
According to the brochure there were two dormitory complexes on the campus. Friedan Complex housed the women, and Abzug Complex housed the men. Another couple of supposedly-famous broads from the past. I was assigned to the Abzug Complex. The brochure had a long list of Dormitory Regulations. I got to the part about “Men are never, under any circumstances, allowed into the women’s dormitory complex.” That’s where I stopped reading. Was this a monastery or a college?
I was majoring in math. Regardless of a student’s major, there were specific courses that were required every semester. I saw that first semester freshmen had to take HS 101, “Gender Roles.” Probably a bunch of feminist crap, but, hey, I had taken Home Economics in High School. I could make it through this one. I was excited about the required course for second semester: HS102, “Introduction to Human Sexuality.” That sounded more like it.
I asked my mother when I would be going to summer orientation. She said there was none. Freshmen had to arrive a week early for orientation. I guess it didn’t make a difference if I lost a week of vacation in the middle of the summer or at the end.
My high school girlfriend, Kathleen, was going to a college on the other side of the country. That was fine with me because we weren’t all that serious anyway. I mean, I couldn’t even get to first base. Every time I came up to the plate my bat was ready, but I struck out. At the final end of summer party she agreed that we could see each other in our underwear and then make out. That was actually kind of exciting. No girl had seen me in my underwear except my sisters, and they hadn’t seen me since I had turned 13. I had led a sheltered life, and had never seen a naked girl, or even one in her underwear except in pictures.
Sure enough, we found a secluded place at the party and stripped to our underwear. She was wearing plain white bra and panties while I was in plain white T-shirt and jockey shorts. There was a significant difference, however. She didn’t have a seven inch pole tenting her panties. Kathleen saw my erection and said, “Don’t get hopeful.” It wouldn’t have mattered much. We kissed for a few minutes before she stood up and got dressed. She told me stay the way I was while she got us a couple of cokes. Twenty minutes later she had not returned. I peeked out from the bushes and saw her talking and laughing with some of her friends. She noticed me and started toward my position, bringing her friends with her. I went to get dressed and found out she had taken my clothes with her.
I tried to hide in the bushes but without success. She told me I had to come out and let the girls see me before she would return my clothes. Blushing, embarrassed and now without an erection, I complied. They took pictures (which wound up on the internet, of course), then gave me back my clothes.
I arrived at college as an 18 year old virgin with no experience at all with girls. I was very modest about my body, probably had more inhibitions than a whole country full of neurotics and so little knowledge of the opposite sex (or sex, for that matter) that I was in little danger of changing virgin to past tense.
My roommate, Jay, was as different as could be. When I walked into the room for the first time he was on the phone with his girlfriend from high school. “I’ll try to be good here, but no promises. See you at Thanksgiving.” He put down his cellphone and reached for his black boxer-briefs – he was stark naked. “Hi, you must be Mark.” He held out his hand, so I shook it. We introduced ourselves – Mark Sherman and Jay La Plante.
I’m five ten, 165 pounds, brown hair, so average-looking I may as well be invisible. Jay is a couple of inches shorter, 145 pounds, black hair, and another of us invisibles. He was a music major concentrating in theory and composition. I figured that, as a math major, we would have little in common. I turned out to be wrong for a lot of reasons.
Jay’s father was a clinical psychologist. “Dad asked if I wanted to major in music, math or foreign languages. It seems that they are all the same skill – each is a different representation system for ideas. I picked music because there are more girls in the field in college than guys. I love to play the pussy-horn, and I’m looking for a girl interested in learning to play the skin flute. There are very few girls in math; want to switch majors?”
This was too much for me. I thanked him for the new knowledge and the tentative career advice. I added that I planned to make more money with math than I could with music. Jay replied I’d have to use the money to hire a girl for sex, so we’d probably wind up even. Now I had another new thing to worry about.
We talked while I put away my things and Jay got dressed. Neither of us is a jock, although we both played lacrosse (second string) in high school. We both liked reading science fiction. We were both a bit introverted. Jay’s Dad had told him not to worry about it. Introverts made great friends for other people. They drew their energy from within instead of from other people. Their friends never left feeling drained. When an introvert speaks it is usually because he or she has something to say. I sure wanted to meet his Dad.
We went over to the dining facility and kept talking. Jay introduced me to Sarah, a girl from his high school. It was my first day and I had already met a girl. Things were looking up.
We returned to the room and continued bullshitting for a couple of hours. I needed a shower so I stripped, grabbed a towel, washcloth and bar of soap, and walked down the hall to the shower room.
I had seen gang showers in my high school gym, but these were different. On each end of the room were two four-nozzle gang showers. The middle of the room was dry and held a bench and hooks for hanging clothes. The room was empty. I hung my towel on a hook, stepped into one of the gang showers and turned on the water. Just as I was getting ready to shampoo my hair another guy walked in wearing boxers. He took them off, hung them up, and went to the showers at the other end of the room.
As soon as my hair and eyes were full of shampoo I heard a voice. “Oh, there you are.” It was a girl! I quickly spun around to face the wall so she couldn’t see me naked. “Too late, I already got a good look,” she announced. “Nick cock. I like the uncut look.” What the fuck was this? Given the no visiting rules about the dorms she was going to be in a lot of trouble!
I finished shampooing and forgot about the rest of the shower. I backed out of the shower area and grabbed my towel. Once it was around me I turned around.
“There’s no reason to be embarrassed,” said the girl. She was a redhead, perhaps five feet seven, just a tad plump but otherwise attractive. “I’ve seen plenty of cocks. I’m pretty sure I’ll be seeing yours again before long.” The guy in the other shower area was laughing.
“Get used to it,” he said. “At Anthony the women rule. And that’s not a bad thing.” I hurried from the shower area and ran to my room.
“There was a girl in the shower and she saw me naked!” I told Jay. “She’s going to be in a lot of trouble.” Jay looked at me nonchalantly.
“For what?” he asked. “Didn’t you read the brochure?” With that he finished undressing and grabbed towel, washcloth and soap. “I hope she’s still there,” Jay said as he departed the room.
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/bisexual/power-chapter-one-in-the-beginning.aspx">Power Chapter One: In The Beginning</a>