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All I wanted was a nice, safe, monogamous relationship.

Of course in high school I was a simple guy, a bit different from the rest of the people where I grew up. I had a direction and a purpose; where most kids were interested in going to parties and getting drunk (and maybe a peek if they were lucky), I wanted to study and make something of myself.

You know the kind. Poor white trash trying to make something of himself; the kid in the corner with the glasses held together by tape, calculator in hand. If this were an earlier age, he’d be trying to read the little black numbers off the slipstick; maybe in the future it’s a laptop with holograms projecting out of it’s surface.

Except that I never wore glasses. My parents told me that in order to get along in this life you need to dress well and look good, and who gives a damn about your brains. So I’m just shy of 6 feet tall and fairly well built; I even play waterpolo when sufficiently drunk enough not to care. But my desire was to be a professional, perhaps a systems analyst, with a nice wife and a couple of kids. The dog in the front yard and the Volvo in the garage is optional, of course.

When I was admitted into Pacific Tech, I was elated. All the hard study and good grades allowed me into one of the toughest schools in the state. Yes, the place had a 6 to 1 ratio male to female, but I was only there to study. As soon as I figured out what I wanted to do with my life, and as soon as I graduated to a successful job I would go about finding that nice woman who I could marry and live happily ever after with. My life was progressing quite nicely, thank you, and on the path I foreordained for myself.

One of the first things that happens at PacTech (as we all knew the place) was “Freshman Camp”, a place where all the students went to learn about the honor code and meet the various fraternities. It’s generally a three-day affair which takes place in a small cove just south of Avon on Santa Catalina Island.

We all gathered in the middle of the student houses for the bus ride out. The freshman class, about 200 students, brought their gear out and waited. Looking around I found more than a sufficient supply of calculators hanging from nerdy guy’s belts to satisfy the computational requirement of any one of NASA’s space probes. I was glad for my parent’s advice to keep care of myself and my appearance; I certainly stood out from the crowd!

The busses arrived, and the great mass proceeded to stuff themselves in. Not in any particular hurry I moved to the back of the second bus, and made myself comfortable. As the bus packed, a rather pretty girl picked me out, and worked her way to the back to join me.

She wore a rather tight leather miniskirt, a tank top, and a black leather jacket; the exception to the rule of t-shirts and messed up hair. From this vantage I saw a rather shapely ass and thighs dressed in black fish-net stockings, and something inside of me awoke for the first time.

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I guess I realized my fetish started when I was in high school. One weekend, a whole group of my friends went up to the lake to party and get some sun and water-skiing in. There was this really CUTE girl who I was seeing. Her family was rich and let her do basically whatever she wanted. So she asked to take her brother’s speedboat out and of course they consented. I think that she had just learned how to drive but had been navigating her father’s speedboat as well as some of our friends’ ski-boats for a while. I don’t think she had ever taken her brother’s boat out before. But what the hell, he was away at college and wouldn’t care anyways. Right? Well, I remember a whole bunch of problems getting the boat up to the lake, but once it was there, the fun started.

Valerie had long blond hair (being the California beach girl) and a really knockout tan slim body, with blue eyes and pouty lips. She was always wearing as little clothing as possible (to get more sun she said). The day after we got there, Val was wearing a red bikini and she had these cute dainty feet with red nail polish. I remember looking at her long tan legs and gazing downwards to her feet. She was a water-skier and had smooth, muscular, but not too muscular legs that saw their share of sunlight. Her cute brown feet were in white flip-flops, the kind that has the really thin stringy thongs which showed off her cute feet. I got an instant hard-on.

She pulled me to my feet where the group was sitting in the sand. We hadn’t begun to ski yet so she told the group she was going to warm up the boat and get used to driving it by taking it around the lake once. She of course called me to go with her or this would be the end of the story.

Her brother’s boat was a fast jet boat that he sometimes used for racing. It had a benchseat in it big enough for only two. As she climbed into the driver’s seat, she put her leg forward and as I was admiring her beautiful, nicely-tanned strong legs, I saw a big pedal shaped like a big bare footprint on the floorboard right in front of her. It had a raised ridge along the side of it and the entire gleaming footboard surface had raised bumps kind of like corrugated steel. The shiny metal pedal was at least 14″ high and stood straight up. I had never seen a pedal on a boat before and asked her what it was for.

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If her front view had been devastating, the view of her back was even more awesome, a wide “V” of rippling muscularity that tapered to her narrow waist as she slowly straightened her arms to reveal the incredible development of her triceps. Then, turning again to face him, she flexed abdominal muscles that stood out in bold relief like a washboard under the curve of her ribs.

“Enjoying the show, little boy?” she asked mockingly. “D’you like big girls? Me, I stand 6’8″ in my bare feet and weigh 265 lbs., all muscle! And I’m still growing!”

Tom tried to swallow, but his mouth was almost completely dry. “You–you’re unbelievable!” he was finally able to croak. “I–I didn’t think it was possible for a girl to have such huge muscles.”

She smiled faintly. “Lots of people think that,” she said softly. “As you can see, they’re wrong. Male hormones aren’t the only reason most men are taller and have bigger upper bodies than women. It’s a matter of genetics. Today only a few women have the genetics to develop muscles like mine, but as more and more women develop themselves physically there will be more of us born every day. Women’s bodies are inherently stronger than men’s; they have to be to be able to bear children. And in time women will have the size and muscle to go with their superior bodies, and then it will be men’s turn to become the weaker sex. And when that happens, we’ll take over and straighten out the mess you men have made of the world.” (click to read entire story…)

The new girl at Central High was the talk of the school from the day she arrived. At only fifteen years old, she was a veritable giantess, towering over six and a half feet in height, and looked like she weighed well over two hundred pounds, although only her broad, powerful shoulders and massive breasts were evident under the loose, high necked sweaters and baggy slacks she invariably wore. Her hands and feet, big even for a girl her size, were half again as large as the most of the boys’, and her dark hair, cut in a short page boy, framed solid, squarish, but strikingly lovely features which, though larger than life, could easily have adorned the cover of any fashion magazine and dispelled any notion that, despite her immense size, she might have been fat.

As luck would have it, she was given a locker right next to Tom’s, and as they exchanged their books after the first of their morning classes, his 5’2″, 110 lb. frame made him feel like a small child as they stood next to each other, his eyes barely reaching to the bulge of her breasts under her loose sweater. Although, like many small boys, he had always been fascinated by taller, bigger girls, he could not help but feel that this girl was far too overwhelming even for his taste. But she seemed not to notice his discomfort as she looked down at him and greeted him with a dazzling smile, “Hi! I’m Angie McPhallon. Looks like we’re going to be neighbors.” (click to read entire story…)

This happened when I was about fourteen, I think. I had been reading a “hot” book that Louise gave me. I don’t remember the name, but I do remember I got very horny reading it. I stopped reading to play with myself, but somehow, it wasn’t enough. I wanted something inside. I wanted to feel like I was being “made love” to, and to experience what the heroine of the book was experiencing.

I looked around my room for something penis-sized and -shaped, but didn’t find anything. Pens, pencils, even a hairbrush handle came under my scrutiny and were rejected. The more I searched, the more desperate I became, the more I wanted something. (click to read entire story…)