Apollo Wilde
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- May 13, 2003
- Posts
- 3,075
Sports teams were just something that you had to deal with on a college campus - even small colleges that had a reputation for academic excellence. Southwest University seemed the most, “We produce all of these illustrious alumni - from business giants to film directors - but we also happen to have a few sports teams because of the money they bring in,” which was something that Jolie “Jo” or, occasionally, “JoJo” Monae could live with. As long as she could pursue her studies in history, nothing else really mattered.
Therefore, when she actually started at Southwest, and discovered that not only was there more than one sports team, but that they were actually the biggest draw to the campus, she felt that she’d been sold a false set of goods. As orientation went on, the storm cloud on her dark face only grew darker, as the opening speech was peppered with references to the various teams - basketball, football, and, most inexplicably to her, a swim team. What sort of college had a swim team? It wasn’t like there were Rose Bowls for swimmers. Or maybe there were, and she just hadn’t heard of them. Huh. Well, Olympic level swimmers had to come from somewhere, right? They weren’t just farting around at the local public pool.
Or maybe they were?
Either way, outside of those idle thoughts, she hadn’t given the teams much more thought than that, and that had been a year or so ago at this point. Now at 19, a sophomore, and a history major, she’d earned a reputation of being “no-nonsense,” a serious scholar, and one of the prominent minority faces on campus, always trotted out for a “look how diverse we are!” presentation, coming to a head when her face, caught in the middle of one of her rare laughs, was plastered all over the newest campus brochures. Despite her urge to want to hide in her dorm until she graduated because of it, she managed to suck it up and deal with the polite (and sometimes not so polite) ribbing she got from her fellow students. But overall, campus life was fine - between working part time as a tutor on campus and then, off campus at the local coffee shop, she had money, she had her studies, and occasionally, treated herself to a movie.
Life was decent - and for the most part, she flew under the campus life radar. And she would have been fine with it. Until her roommate.
“Dude, Jojo. How come you never go to any of the games?”
Jo rolled her eyes, drumming her fingers against the worn wood countertop. “Are you going to order something, or continue to harass me at work?”
“Don’t be like that. Gimmie a large mocha. And answer the question.” The blonde across the counter leaned on it, putting her picture perfect, American apple pie and baseball chin in her palms. Holly Summers was a psychology major and a girl about town. With her big blue eyes, long eyelashes, and bombshell body, Holly had the air of the girl next door who’d fallen out of Playboy magazine circa 1955, with the sensibilities of a Tinder addict. Not that Jo felt like she was some sort of troll next to Holly - she knew she was decent looking.
Years of ballet as a kid had graced her to a dancer’s build to this day - long, elegant lines and powerful legs. Once her official "dancer days" had ended, her body had filled out to a generous chest, luckily enough for her to still be in proportion with the rest of her body. She considered her breasts her best-kept secret - though she typically underplayed their size. And her face wasn’t that bad, either - big brown eyes, full lips, even skin that a religious skin care regime kept in near flawless condition. But if someone were to ask her, her looks were purely secondary to her brain. They were nice to have, and she did what she could to keep them up, but found it way more fun to get lost in a documentary series than it was to go to the gym.
Turning her back to Holly, Jo started a fresh coffee drip. “Because I don’t have the time, Holly. Between my classes and tutoring and here, where am I going to find the time to go to whatever game? My nights are pretty full.” She carelessly pushed a strand of wild hair back into the messy bundle of curls looped into a sloppy bun on the top of her head.
“Uh, no they’re not," Holly scoffed. "I live with you. And go to a swim meet. Those are usually super early in the morning, and totally worth the time. Do you even know any of the guys on the team?”
Jo sighed, and dramatically dropped her head against her chest. There was no changing the topic here, apparently. “Unless I had class with them, I doubt it?”
“You don’t remember taking classes with any stupidly hot beyond all reason guys? Is your vag in working order?”
“My vag is working just fine, thank you.” A few pumps of chocolate to the coffee, and Jo, for a moment, had to resist the urge to mimic spitting into the cup, just to get a rise out of Holly. Not that she would ever actually spit in the girl’s coffee; Holly, for all of her meddling, meant well.
“You know,” Jo continued, sliding Holly’s drink across the counter to her, “for someone who’s a psych major, you spend a lot of time focusing on other people’s sex lives.”
“Sexuality, and subsequent fetishes and desires, are intricately linked with self-perception. Desires are simply a larger mirror that reflect back a different side of our personality, largely, one that is more personal.” Holly dropped her academic tones, and with her cup in one hand, leaned over again to lightly nudge Jo in the side. “I’m just trying to get you to live a more fulfilled and well-rounded life. Books and studies are grand and all, but they can’t take the place of a human body. Even if it’s just for a one night stand.”
Smiling, Jo shook her head. “That’ll be $5.00.”
____
If the coffee shop visit wasn’t enough, Holly dropping continual hints - from sticky notes to text messages to voicemails - was enough to finally send Jo over the edge. If it’d get the blonde to back off, she’d go to a million swim meets. And, as luck would have it, there happened to be one right before her next class. She could dash over, stay for five minutes just to say she’d been there, and then get to the other side of campus, no problem.
The air inside of the pool was humid, and didn’t smell as strongly of chlorine as she would have thought. It was warm enough for her to briefly rethink her oversized hoodie, but she decided that it’d be better to keep it on, rather than take it off and reveal that in her hurry to leave the dorm this morning, she’d neglected to put on a bra.
The red tank under the hoodie was roomy, and didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, even with a bra on. The back was open, twisted low at her waist, and probably meant for those that had a little less going on in the breast department. Her black leggings with red stars on the knees were clean, and though she knew she wasn’t likely to win any fashion contest, she was comfortable, and that was most important.
Phone in hand, she glanced down at the time. It was still early. Great. She was totally here, and now she could leave -
Bodies exiting the water drew her attention from her phone to the neatly divided lines in the pool. As she finally got a glimpse of the male swim team, the pool suddenly got warmer, and she dropped her phone at the same time that her mouth fell open.
The guys coming out of the pool were absolutely beautiful. Just...wow. Completely dumbfounded, she could do little more than stand and stare, dimly realizing that she dropped her phone. Kneeling, her attention still on the boys exiting the pool, she fumbled across the damp floor for her phone.
Therefore, when she actually started at Southwest, and discovered that not only was there more than one sports team, but that they were actually the biggest draw to the campus, she felt that she’d been sold a false set of goods. As orientation went on, the storm cloud on her dark face only grew darker, as the opening speech was peppered with references to the various teams - basketball, football, and, most inexplicably to her, a swim team. What sort of college had a swim team? It wasn’t like there were Rose Bowls for swimmers. Or maybe there were, and she just hadn’t heard of them. Huh. Well, Olympic level swimmers had to come from somewhere, right? They weren’t just farting around at the local public pool.
Or maybe they were?
Either way, outside of those idle thoughts, she hadn’t given the teams much more thought than that, and that had been a year or so ago at this point. Now at 19, a sophomore, and a history major, she’d earned a reputation of being “no-nonsense,” a serious scholar, and one of the prominent minority faces on campus, always trotted out for a “look how diverse we are!” presentation, coming to a head when her face, caught in the middle of one of her rare laughs, was plastered all over the newest campus brochures. Despite her urge to want to hide in her dorm until she graduated because of it, she managed to suck it up and deal with the polite (and sometimes not so polite) ribbing she got from her fellow students. But overall, campus life was fine - between working part time as a tutor on campus and then, off campus at the local coffee shop, she had money, she had her studies, and occasionally, treated herself to a movie.
Life was decent - and for the most part, she flew under the campus life radar. And she would have been fine with it. Until her roommate.
“Dude, Jojo. How come you never go to any of the games?”
Jo rolled her eyes, drumming her fingers against the worn wood countertop. “Are you going to order something, or continue to harass me at work?”
“Don’t be like that. Gimmie a large mocha. And answer the question.” The blonde across the counter leaned on it, putting her picture perfect, American apple pie and baseball chin in her palms. Holly Summers was a psychology major and a girl about town. With her big blue eyes, long eyelashes, and bombshell body, Holly had the air of the girl next door who’d fallen out of Playboy magazine circa 1955, with the sensibilities of a Tinder addict. Not that Jo felt like she was some sort of troll next to Holly - she knew she was decent looking.
Years of ballet as a kid had graced her to a dancer’s build to this day - long, elegant lines and powerful legs. Once her official "dancer days" had ended, her body had filled out to a generous chest, luckily enough for her to still be in proportion with the rest of her body. She considered her breasts her best-kept secret - though she typically underplayed their size. And her face wasn’t that bad, either - big brown eyes, full lips, even skin that a religious skin care regime kept in near flawless condition. But if someone were to ask her, her looks were purely secondary to her brain. They were nice to have, and she did what she could to keep them up, but found it way more fun to get lost in a documentary series than it was to go to the gym.
Turning her back to Holly, Jo started a fresh coffee drip. “Because I don’t have the time, Holly. Between my classes and tutoring and here, where am I going to find the time to go to whatever game? My nights are pretty full.” She carelessly pushed a strand of wild hair back into the messy bundle of curls looped into a sloppy bun on the top of her head.
“Uh, no they’re not," Holly scoffed. "I live with you. And go to a swim meet. Those are usually super early in the morning, and totally worth the time. Do you even know any of the guys on the team?”
Jo sighed, and dramatically dropped her head against her chest. There was no changing the topic here, apparently. “Unless I had class with them, I doubt it?”
“You don’t remember taking classes with any stupidly hot beyond all reason guys? Is your vag in working order?”
“My vag is working just fine, thank you.” A few pumps of chocolate to the coffee, and Jo, for a moment, had to resist the urge to mimic spitting into the cup, just to get a rise out of Holly. Not that she would ever actually spit in the girl’s coffee; Holly, for all of her meddling, meant well.
“You know,” Jo continued, sliding Holly’s drink across the counter to her, “for someone who’s a psych major, you spend a lot of time focusing on other people’s sex lives.”
“Sexuality, and subsequent fetishes and desires, are intricately linked with self-perception. Desires are simply a larger mirror that reflect back a different side of our personality, largely, one that is more personal.” Holly dropped her academic tones, and with her cup in one hand, leaned over again to lightly nudge Jo in the side. “I’m just trying to get you to live a more fulfilled and well-rounded life. Books and studies are grand and all, but they can’t take the place of a human body. Even if it’s just for a one night stand.”
Smiling, Jo shook her head. “That’ll be $5.00.”
____
If the coffee shop visit wasn’t enough, Holly dropping continual hints - from sticky notes to text messages to voicemails - was enough to finally send Jo over the edge. If it’d get the blonde to back off, she’d go to a million swim meets. And, as luck would have it, there happened to be one right before her next class. She could dash over, stay for five minutes just to say she’d been there, and then get to the other side of campus, no problem.
The air inside of the pool was humid, and didn’t smell as strongly of chlorine as she would have thought. It was warm enough for her to briefly rethink her oversized hoodie, but she decided that it’d be better to keep it on, rather than take it off and reveal that in her hurry to leave the dorm this morning, she’d neglected to put on a bra.
The red tank under the hoodie was roomy, and didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, even with a bra on. The back was open, twisted low at her waist, and probably meant for those that had a little less going on in the breast department. Her black leggings with red stars on the knees were clean, and though she knew she wasn’t likely to win any fashion contest, she was comfortable, and that was most important.
Phone in hand, she glanced down at the time. It was still early. Great. She was totally here, and now she could leave -
Bodies exiting the water drew her attention from her phone to the neatly divided lines in the pool. As she finally got a glimpse of the male swim team, the pool suddenly got warmer, and she dropped her phone at the same time that her mouth fell open.
The guys coming out of the pool were absolutely beautiful. Just...wow. Completely dumbfounded, she could do little more than stand and stare, dimly realizing that she dropped her phone. Kneeling, her attention still on the boys exiting the pool, she fumbled across the damp floor for her phone.
Last edited: