Summer Sessions
Prologue
AUGUST 21st
“I haven’t been out this way all summer,” the Uber driver said.
“Yeah?” Felix grunted. The driver was taking his time. It was a campus, and a day, that encouraged meandering. Seeprince College hid itself from the world, was even hard to discern on Google Maps. Old-growth pines surrounded it on all sides, stuck on a promontory that it had all to itself. Even the college promotional materials barely showed the school—the main buildings were always obscured behind some nearer tree.
He thumbed through picture after picture of his girlfriend’s pussy. “What the fuck?” he mouthed.
“I think I’m missing out,” the driver said. There was a lilt to it that made Felix look up. Two girls with matching volleyball-sized tits were walking, arm in arm, across the street. They both wore polka-dot bikini tops and worn-thin denim cutoffs. They had nice summer tans. “What’s enrollment cost?”
“A ton,” Felix murmured, watching them go. Four ass cheeks, covering nearly the length of the street, waggled off. “A… lot.”
The driver was slow to go. Felix went back to looking at Vanessa’s snatch.
He had broken his phone early in his trip. Nonetheless Felix had felt not a quiver of concern about leaving Vanessa unattended for a solid month and change. They were a year into the relationship, both avid hikers. She had short hair and wore comfortable shorts every month except December and January. Her main regret had been being too busy with summer classes to hike Appalachia with him. He had returned to civilization, gotten a new phone, put in his SIM card, and then the pictures had flooded in.
Hundreds of them.
She’d known his phone was busted, and that was the tenor of the first few messages—see you in late August! And then a few heartwarming messages about missing him. Next some about needing him.
By the turn of the month she had sent him a message that read “I’m so wet for you and you’re still so far away :( :(“.
After that the pictures had started. Actually, scrolling through the overworked message thread, she hadn’t sent actual text in two weeks. And he was pretty sure that was a butt message. It read 8kdjs9sd9d.
First it was titty pics. Underneath mesh crop tops he didn’t recognize, in bras he know she didn’t previously own. And he wasn’t sure he knew the tits, either: Vanessa didn’t have big boobs like the ones in the pictures. And didn’t have a big, goofy, stupid smile like the ones in the pictures, either.
There were figures in the background. Dimly lit men and women. The women seemed to have big boobs too. It was hard to see too clearly. There was an odd glint to the photos. Like they were almost moving. A filter he couldn’t quite see.
After that Vanessa had posted a few straight-out bare-chested titties, and then had moved into her pussy period. There was no coy shots of panties or anything. She went to the beaver shots immediately. They weren’t romantic. They were pink. His girlfriend’s slit. Her hole. The lighting was always poor, and the backgrounds usually unclear. Typically they’d flooded in around two in the morning, as late as five. The Vanessa he knew went to bed early, to catch the next sunrise.
“Okay,” the driver said. He had his head on a swivel, and fair enough. There were big-boobed co-eds all around, mostly with long, straight hair, but with plenty of enriching variety. It was like a Bebe exploded. Slinky and tight-cut clothes on overly endowed bodies. Just with his window slightly cracked Felix could hear giggling. Lots of giggling.
After the initial shock of getting endless pussy pics had worn off Felix had tried to reach Vanessa, without success. She hadn’t responded to e-mail, text, phone. That wasn’t totally true—she’d sent another batch of pussy pics.
Analysis of the increasing number of snatch shots revealed some trends. First, the photos were getting closer and closer. While the first few were reasonably far away, the latest were obviously pressed right up against her box. The photography had suffered. Her slit was blurry and out of focus. There was actual moisture on the lens in the last one. Second, she’d gotten rid of all pussy hair. Not all in one go. It had taken some time. She’d gone from a wild, untamed mane to a more manageable bush, to a landing strip, and then fully, perfectly pink.
His thumb ached from scrolling through them. But if he went fast enough—there was something—a flicker...
“Alright, we’re here. One hell of a destination,” the driver said. There was a co-ed across the street from them in far too tight shorts, in a sunny yellow, with her legs spread wide. She looked like she was just enjoying the cool summer evening, leaning back, nipples tenting a ringer t-shirt. The driver got a wave and a smile while taking Felix’s bags out. He gave an okay, college-kid tip. The guy didn’t look like he’d mind.
Felix stretched and adjusted his shirt. It was hard to hide his erection. It took a real effort of will to put his phone away, to turn off the pussy album.
The truth was, he’d spent a lot of time looking at it.
After the initial shock had worn off, he’d gone back to the set. It hadn’t felt all that wrong to masturbate to. It was his girlfriend, after all. That pussy belonged to him. The photos were addressed to him, so there was the consent. And he’d been backpacking around with zero sexual content. Even so, his shot had surprised him, covering his phone with cum. But even that had an obvious rationale. He’d skeeted on her slit. Good for him.
Since then he’d jacked off to the photos many times. In fact he considered it a betrayal of Vanessa to miss. He’d gotten pretty good at coating her pixellated pussy with jizz. If he scrolled fast enough, watching her slit ripple and get pinker, wetter, closer… it was very nearly a video. He’d jacked off twice on the airplane, in the bathroom, wiping away the evidence. He’d also bought two backup power packs for exorbitant prices. Just so he wouldn’t miss a moment. Even now, phone warm against his butt, he could about see that pink flicker…
His driver left the car in the middle of the campus road and went to talk to legs-wide-open co-ed. Her smile grew even stronger.
There was off-campus housing, but it was truly off-campus. Nearly everyone lived either in the molding concrete dorms or in decrepit greek housing. Felix wheeled his suitcase inside. He thought about taking his phone out during the walk. But no. That made no sense. He didn’t need to.
“I don’t need to,” he told himself. Behind, a large white van honked, annoyed, at the Toyota Prius in the middle of everything.
It smelled good in the dorm. Some sort of pink strawberry scent that he had no sense-memory of at all. Actually even in the lobby there was a lot of changes. The floor being sticky wasn’t new, but the type of stickiness felt different. There was a lot of clothing strewn about, empty bottles on the ground. Someone was playing bubbly pop music far too loud.
The elevator door tinked open.
Inside, a girl was up against the wall, getting noisely railed by a well-built jock with his hat on backwards. They both looked like regular lifters, all defined muscles and bulging arms. And a good thing, as that elevator liked to sway to and fro. The girl had her naked legs wrapped around the guy. The only bit of clothing either of them had on, besides the hat, was a pair of swim shorts around the guy’s ankles.
Felix suddenly really wanted to look at his phone. It was an urge he couldn’t help. He stumbled backwards—the couple hadn’t even noticed him. The elevator closed. They hadn’t missed a stroke. That same fruit scent had billowed out of the tiny elevator cage.
He settled for tugging at his cock while bringing his phone out. Felix left his suitcase in the lobby. Here, re-connected to campus wifi, the ripple-filter effect was that much stronger. It was more of a spiral, centered on the peach of his girlfriend’s incredible, wet pussy. Felix grunted at it, eyes fixed. He kept tripping on stairs. He barely noticed the girl walking down the stairs in a short pink skirt, although he did slip briefly on the milk dribbling out of her tits.
A new photo came in. Felix groaned at it. It was frankly bad photography, too close and too dark to be recognizable as Vanessa’s cunt unless you knew it really well. But he did. By the fifth floor he had somehow hauled his dick out. It got an appreciative look from a girl with spiked short black hair, who favored it with a thumbs up. She was being led by the collar by another man, who tugged, annoyed, when she paused.
Number 583. Felix was barely able to lift his eyes from the screen, from that final, last picture of perfection. He hammered on the door, only eventually remembering what doorknobs were, how they worked. His cock was beet red, overly full. He was panting. When had that started? He nearly fell through the door.
Vanessa’s room had been a model of making the most of things. She’d filled it with mirrors to catch sunlight, spread it around the room. In one corner she’d mounted her bike vertically, in another she had installed hooks for hiking gear. For furniture she had a single tasteful couch. Lighting was now provided by the single overhead light—the shade was drawn and looked busted. A pink pair of panties had been tossed up against the fixture, bathing the entire room in lurid pastel. Felix saw none of this. From a single patch of bedspread on photo number 163 he knew all the photos were from Vanessa’s room. He turned a corner.
There it was.
“Hiiiiiii!” his girlfriend cooed. Or what was apparently Vanessa, anyway. This one had added bolt-on tits to her slender frame, and had put on at least twenty, thirty pounds of curves. All her trail-hiking leanness had been submerged in bedroom curves. She’d even lost a lot of her usual tan. Now her body was porcelain, smooth, wet. “You’re back!”
Felix barely noticed her. The phone. He had to keep an eye on his phone.
Vanessa was sprawled on the bed. It looked like she spent a lot of time there—there were bags and bags of snack cakes and other junk all around her. Her phone was on the pillow next to her, plugged into a charger. A bright pink charger, for some reason. She grinned at him and spread her legs. She actually wore a shirt, albeit a faded white one that he dimly recalled used to be his.
But everything was dimly recalled.
There it was, just like he knew, just like was burned into his brain. Felix got onto his knees. His dick ached for it, and soon enough he’d fuck her senseless, but this came first. He breathed in a hot pink scent, with strawberry undertones and overtones. There wasn’t a single hair on it. It was very wet. The bedspread was damp.
“There,” he said. It was just like the picture. He dropped his phone.
Felix put his head down and started to lick. His dick, untouched, nonetheless surged and spat cum. It wasn’t even really an orgasm. It was something new his body had learned how to do.
“Oh, that’s nice,” Vanessa purred. She ruffled her boyfriend’s hair. He didn’t have the nice muscles that all the other boys on campus had. But she’d learned—they’d come. Often overnight. His tongue darted in and out of her.
It was funny. All of the text messages had never sent—the ones with her increasing worry and concern, the one outright stating “something is very wrong.” Just the pictures. And even then, they’d come out a little funny. But she’d eventually learned to stop worrying about it.
“You missed such a fun summer!” she told Felix. Then she grabbed her phone to take a—no. Not a selfie. A couple picture, finally.
Outside, the van driver finally got out, drove the Prius to a parking spot, and locked it. He dropped the keys next to the uber driver, who was busy getting his dick sucked by yellow shorts girl. He lingered for a moment—one last time? But it had already been a long summer, and the symposia was over.