By Rumple Foreskin
Many hours later, as she faced questions from her sorority sisters, Tanya the Tri-Delt Tramp would remember, Willie, the frat boy she’d been screwing cowboy style that morning and his awesome orgasm that blew her off both his spurting cock and the bed. What she couldn’t understand and mentioned to no one was how, during lift off, she heard him scream, “Mid-terms!”
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"If only the good die young, those guys will live to a hundred.” This unflattering rumination came from one, William Jackson (Willie) Sinclair IV. Having helped the confused but only slightly bruised Tanya slip out through the kitchen, he now gazed upon the target of his jaundiced assessment, the Iota Fraternity test procurement committee. It’s entire membership was currently passed out in a back room of the Iota house amid a sea of stained toga sheets, empty beer cans and two semi-nude females he didn’t recognize.
What prompted Willie’s unkind assessment was the committee members failure to obtain any copies of his upcoming mid-term exams. This dereliction of duty meant he faced some serious book time.
Casual observers, unaware of the fortitude possessed by this scion of the Sinclair clan, might have expected him to quail at the prospect of real study. For it is true that not unlike the lily of the field, young Willie spun not, neither did he weave in the groves of academe. It is, therefore, to his credit that young Willie’s resolve remained unshaken.
This stouthearted attitude was due, in no small measure, to the proximity of a certain, Ms Edwina Toupes, known to her band of loyal friends and admirers as, “Etta,” She had gotten into Wodehouse College on a full scholarship and was an acknowledged campus brain. Willie’s surprising inclusion in her circle of acquaintances was due to his sincere appreciation for Ms Toupes' remarkable mental capabilities and her unfailing willingness to share that gift with him.
It is true, that he sometimes overheard certain Iota brothers making gross references to her grade point average far exceeding her bosom's measurement. But like most other thoughts, ones about her figure seldom troubled his mind. To him, the important point was not the modest number assigned to Etta's bosom, but the even more modest figure that now represented his own grade point average.
For Willie, Ms Toupes' attraction was spiritual and intellectual, not physical. It was an appeal not of the flesh but of the mind. In short, he knew no one more capable than Etta of helping him overcome his very real academic shortcomings.
This profound appreciation of Ms Toupes' scholarly qualifications was commendable. But when it came to noticing the young lady's physical attributes, he was a total failure. For a worldly-wise Iota Assistant Rush Chairman, the oversight was surprising. For while objective observers often described Etta as willowy, even slender, those same individuals also noted with approval her large brown eyes, pert button of a nose, brilliant smile and long, rather shapely, legs.
The condition of Etta’s legs was a combination of favorable genetics and her participation on the school's new women's track team. She’d casually mentioned this membership during their most recent extended social intercourse which just happened to occur a few days before finals last semester.
Etta’s involvement with varsity athletics troubled Willie. As a key member of the school’s perennially losing football team, he held on point-after and field goal attempts, he knew how physically demanding sports could be.
He was also bothered by her recent adoption of "Ms" as her preferred title. This might be the 1970’s, but Willie's views on social norms were of an antiquarian bent. However, he credited himself with being tolerant enough to overlook Etta's recent faddish excesses.
This forbearance reflected both his cosmopolitan appreciation for the capriciousness of the female of the specie and his current academic imperatives. As a result, he had no problem curbing his natural instinct towards brotherly remonstration.
Willie felt justified in this decision. After all, Etta was an intelligent girl, in a bookish sort of way. Sooner or later, her basic good sense would overcome these impulsive gestures toward modernity. So it was with a clear conscience that he hopped in his car and exited the Iota house parking lot in search of Ms Etta Toupes.
The automobile in question was a dilapidated model rich in years. To the uninitiated, this might seem surprising. Willie was sole heir to the Sinclair family fortune, the limits of which had been perceived by few and then but dimly and at a great distance. But Willie considered, "The Heap," his fond name for the car, a thing of joy and satisfaction.
The Sinclair’s did not amass a rather large pile of liquid assets by being spendthrifts. The cautious use of money was preached to young Willie from his earliest days. The Sinclair’s were, as a rule, extremely frugal. Willie had, so far, proved to be a glaring exception to that rule.
The Heap was the chief, some would say only, evidence the sermons of his elders had not been totally in vain. Willie had it from a good authority, his mother, that its presence was all that kept his allowance checks rolling in. Now he guided The Heap in an unusual direction, toward that natural habitat of Ms Edwina Toupes, the school library.
Etta had just reached the library steps when Willie once again staged an entrance into her life. Since it was test week, this meeting came as no surprise. Willie had been making these raids on her with tidal regularity since their freshman year in high school.
One unwanted by-product of her periodic attempts at academic resuscitation was the solitary “B” that kept her from having a perfect 4.00 average. But Etta had a remarkably sanguine attitude toward Willie’s reappearances.
Since their first meeting in ninth grade, she’d been fascinated by Willie Sinclair. In her opinion, he was a force of nature, but with a quiet charm most people overlooked. He was also very good looking, which was nice, and possessed many things she lacked, such as self-confidence, social standing and, well money.
Over the years, however, Etta had come to realize there were things missing from Willie’s make up. High on that list were intelligence and self-discipline. Time and self-awareness had not lessened her fascination with Willie. Therefore, she greeted him warmly. "Willie, what's a guy like you doing in a nice place like this?"
"Just trying to improve the image of this den of learning, Ms Toupes. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off burning a bra or some such?”
Willie couldn’t believe what he just said. It wasn't a very smart thing to say when about to ask for a favor. But most of all, in light of her endowment, or lack of the same, it was downright rude.
"Sorry about that, Etta. I didn't mean to get personal like, you know. I mean, politics is one thing but friendship is another, uh, don't you know." Willie squirmed. Apologies weren't his strong suit, few things were, and he’d hashed that one to the max.
As usual, Etta was a good scout. "It wouldn't do me any good to go to one of those demonstrations. Training bras are flame proof.” Just like Etta to let a fellow off the hook, he thought, experiencing an intense feeling of gratitude.
Much to his relief, Etta picked up the conversational ball. "Willie, according to my sundial, it's test week. Now if I hadn’t known you since the ninth grade, I might think you're just here for some mindless social reason like, for instance, asking me to the big Iota spring ball. But I bet you're here on a more serious, a more scholarly mission. Why, I bet going to the dance hasn't even crossed your mind, especially with me. The only thing you’re concerned about is how you’re going to do on your tests. Am I right, Willie? When you think of me, you think of tests, not formal dances, right?"
Willie was not the worlds' strongest debater. To him, logic was illogical. When it came to diplomacy and negotiation, he was strictly of the, "Take it or leave it," school. However, even he could see his present position was precarious. Never strong at thinking on his feet, or any other position, he now had to take quick stock of the situation and make a command decision.
He’d already given Etta a good reason to be huffy with that dumb bra burning joke. And while she’d been remarkably decent about that screw-up, he sensed it would be a mistake to presume too much on her sense of humor, especially about that subject.
What’s more, there were signs she might be coming around to the belief his visits were due solely to his sagging grade point average. Of course, that wasn’t true, at least not entirely. The timing had been purely coincidental all these years. Still, it had been a lot of years. Some of the egghead types he noticed hanging around her might have started questioning his motives.
Then there was the dance. Until Etta brought it up, he’d been able to put thoughts of the Iota spring ball out of his mind. Not that the event by itself was unpleasant, in fact, it was something he rather liked. It was just that thinking about it reminded him of, The Sin.
Cynthia “The Sin” Bliss possessed the type of beauty, both natural and, rumor had it, artificially enhanced, that tends to stop traffic. She was a tall, tanned, blue-eyed, blonde. The generous proportions of her eye-catching figure brought to mind the extreme curvature of an hourglass. The sight of her walking away while wearing a certain pair of tight leather pants always sent testosterone levels soaring.
The Sin and Willie had been a number for the longest, maybe over a month. While not actually pinned, the word was out. Then suddenly, Willie was out with, The Sin.
Unbeknownst to Willie, the seeds of his downfall had been sown early in the relationship. Prior to their first date, he’d gone home to negotiate an advance on his allowance and say goodbye to his father who was leaving on a three-week business trip to Europe .