The Never Series Pt. 01

They would thank her, and then it was off to work. Dean was an EMT, but he essentially served as a nursing assistant for most of the day, usually transporting patients from one area of the hospital to the other, unless there was an ambulance call, which meant he and his boss, Randall Joyce and another EMT, would jump to attention in a mad rush to the ambulance garage.

He also worked for Randall Joyce, who, besides his duties as Director of EMT was also the head of the Landscape Maintenance Department. His title was groundskeeper, but essentially, his main duty was mowing lawns.

That summer, however, was so dry and hot that the grass a hundred feet or more away from the two circular buildings that comprised Mt. Pleasant Hospital had turned a golden brown. Because the hospital did not have an in-ground sprinkler system, the only grass that remained green and lush was the area immediately adjacent to the two buildings which was as far as the water hoses and sprinklers could reach. That summer he spent as much time moving hoses and sprinklers to keep parts of the lawn saturated and green, as he did mowing them.

Still, the dead lawn that was beyond the reach of the water hoses also required trimming, just to control the intermittent Russian thistles or prickly poppies (the only things that flourished without water) which, when they got too tall, would make the grounds look shabby and unkempt. Whenever the dead lawn required it, he would climb atop his riding lawnmower and set out to mow military-precise, straight lines across several acres of the golden-brown, dead grass.

But on the mornings when he suffered from particularly bad hangovers, the blazing sun that ruled the azure, Michigan skies reflected so much light off the dead grass that he would have to squint to keep from being blinded by the sunlight.

Occasionally, the squinting and the lack of sleep would make him so drowsy that he couldn't keep his eyes open at all, and he would literally nod off at the wheel. Before that happened, he would try to keep himself awake by slapping himself in the face as hard as he could, but despite his best efforts, three or four times that summer he woke up startled and embarrassed as the riding mower beneath him collided with the side of a building or an occasional tree trunk and, turning to look behind him, he'd see a long trail of mowed grass that deviated from his methodically straight lines -- a clear and visible sign of his catnap. When that happened, a brief adrenal rush would make his heart beat so fast that it would wake him up, and he would hustle his mower back across the trail to cover up his embarrassing mistake.

On one occasion, Dean was in a patient's room, waiting to transport him to the surgical wing, and while he waited for the patient to use the restroom, Dean had a chance to watch him working from the room's fourth-story window. Dean had stared with amusement for a good 40 seconds as his mower carved a two hundred foot path that slowly, steadily veered away from the crisp, clean lines it had already etched across the golden-brown lawn. Dean watched the mower roll unhindered through the lush, green grass that surrounded the building's north wing, until it unceremoniously crashed into the side of the building, very nearly jarring him from his seat and abruptly waking him from his momentary slumber. Dean had given him so much shit on the way home that afternoon that he stopped drinking that night after only his second Bloody Mary.

Considering that vodka had been the focus of the previous night's festivities, on that Thursday afternoon, gin seemed the obvious choice, and gin meant another 1.75 liter bottle, this time of Gordon's London Dry. That brand and the Smirnoff Vodka they purchased throughout the summer were far from good, but both fit their modest budgets. Along with the Gordon's, that day's purchase included several bottles of tonic water, a bag of ice, and a couple of limes. By 5:00 p.m. both of them were on their second gin and tonic and were feeling no pain and surprisingly little fatigue.

The first people to come over to visit were Dean's girlfriend Cindy and her friend Jodi. He had had a brief fling with Jodi, but despite her entreaties to continue the affair, he had decided to keep their relationship purely platonic, and Jodi was apparently okay with that.

Shortly after Cindy and Jodi's arrival, two couples, Cash and Callie and Greg and Kristi -- friends who attended Michigan State University -- arrived unannounced around dinner time from the Lansing area, bound for an extended weekend up north on Mackinac Island. They asked if they could sleep on the floor so they could get a head start on the two and half hour drive to the scenic island getaway. Soon, a massive cooler full of beers that had previously occupied their van was dragged inside the living room, and the party was on.

Caroline and a friend of hers, Ginny Johns, both of whom had been drinking since the mid-afternoon showed up later, around 7:30 or 8:00, having walked over from the downtown bars. Their arrival brought the size of the small group gathered to double figures. Neither he nor Dean had ever met Ginny before, but it didn't take her long before she'd become the life of the party.

He and Caroline had had several impromptu and informal "dates" during which the two crashed big parties or visited downtown bars to catch local bands. She had already gotten his attention late that spring semester and throughout the first few months of the summer.

At first, he didn't think she was his type. She was a very slender girl, with fairly small breasts, pale skin, and long, straight, dark brown hair that fell to the middle of her back. But she was pretty enough, and despite her modest bosom, she certainly had a nice ass and plenty of curves, along with a pair of dark-brown eyes that sparkled like diamonds.

What took him longer to appreciate was her intellect and personality. After the night he spent with her in the noisy Tiki Lounge, discussing the Port Huron Statement and sundry other topics, he learned that she was extremely intelligent, and probably more than any girl he'd ever met, she had an incredibly wide body of knowledge and understanding of the things that interested him most -- history, politics, music, art, literature, and film.

That night's party was not much different than any of the others that summer. Party activities centered on the three things that he and his friends deemed most important -- booze, pot, and the devil's music -- along with the animated conversations that all three inspired.

Whether he did so consciously or not, he infused himself into most of those conversations by controlling the dissemination of two of the three. While Dean was in charge of keeping the drinks flowing, he controlled the music blaring from the stereo system and rolled joints or filled bongs.

The festivities lasted until just after 1:00 a.m. By that point, Ginny was so drunk and stoned that she confessed she had better start walking home or she was sure to pass out where she sat. He suspected his luck had turned when Caroline asked her if she could make it there alone, and Ginny had said "yes." Then, once she found out that Ginny lived only two or three blocks away, Jodi consented to accompany her on the walk home. Jodi, as it turned out, lived only a block beyond Ginny's house on Jefferson Street.

Meanwhile, Cindy and Dean retreated to Dean's bedroom, and Cash, Callie, Greg, and Kristi went to their car to retrieve several sleeping bags and foam rubber pads from their van to begin their "camp out" on the living room floor. That left Caroline to make a decision, and in the relative privacy of the kitchen where they'd escaped to search for Ibuprofen together, Caroline held him about the waist and kissed him once fervently on the lips. When they broke the kiss, she asked if she could spend the night. He would have been crazy to refuse.

He suspected that evening would come sooner or later. During their four or five nights together, there had existed a mostly unspoken, but palpable chemistry between them, and though the stars hadn't yet aligned properly for a tryst, Caroline had sent him nonverbal cues, especially that evening. She'd spent most of the night sitting or standing as close to him as she could, and as he was the only unspoken for male at the party, there were two other potential female contenders for his affections. It seemed to him, that Caroline had made it clear to the other two women that she was the one with designs on something more that night.

He had had a half dozen sexual partners before that evening, but he still considered himself something of a novice when it came to lovemaking, so when they made their way into his bedroom, he was a bit tentative. But Caroline was different from his other lovers. He would soon come to learn that when it came to sex, she was more interested in her own gratification than any other woman he'd been with.

Once they climbed atop his bed, they took their time. The first half hour was an overture that intensified the hunger inside them. They kissed passionately, and slowly, one by one, they discarded pieces of their clothing until their yearning bodies were completely naked. Even though it was early morning, it was still quite warm, and it felt good as a gentle breeze wafted through the open, south window of his room.

There was nearly a full moon that night, and since he'd left the curtains wide open to allow the cooler air outside to drift into the room, the only light inside was supplied by the brilliant orb hovering in the night sky.

Caroline's naked body was surprisingly supple and lithe. She could bend and twist herself into Gumby-like shapes. She had tiny nipples and areolas that matched her smallish breasts, but the curve of hips and her taut, toned derriere made her figure very appealing, though different than any girl he'd been with previously. She also had a shock of dark, thick pubic hair that she seemed uninterested in concealing. In fact, Caroline was more uninhibited about her body than any woman he'd ever known.

They spent a long time exploring each other -- touching, stroking, licking, and gently biting every inch of each other's most intimate places. When his fingers finally found her sex, she was already wet with anticipation, and as they entered her, she unleashed a long, low moan. As he continued probing her opening, her own fingers found his stiffening manhood, and wrapping her slim hand about his shaft, she began to stroke him, slowly, deliberately.

After several more minutes, both he and Caroline were beyond excited. And then suddenly and without warning, Caroline used both hands to push him onto his back. Before he knew what was happening, she turned, swung her leg across his supine torso and lowered her mouth to his erect shaft and her pussy to his face.

That had been a pleasant, but novel occurrence in his brief registry of sexual experiences. Not only had he never engaged in a 69, but he had also never been with a woman brazen enough to want to direct the action. Still, there was little doubt that he liked this no-nonsense approach.

Why not, he remembered thinking to himself -- why shouldn't a woman be able to take the lead? He had discovered Caroline's feminist tendencies that first night he met her at The Tiki Lounge. He discovered that her reading spanned a wide range of liberal/progressive artists, critics, and thinkers from the radical 60s student movement to the more sex-positive feminists -- from Chomsky and Zinn to de Beauvoir and Bright. So, their first and only sexual encounter stood out in his mind as a kind of metaphor for what made Caroline Seale so unique and memorable. In short, she was her own woman.

When her mouth found the head of his shaft, he unloosed a guttural moan, "Oh, Jesus." Other women had taken him in their mouths, but none of their efforts had felt anything like that. Once he had acclimated to the intense sensations and had regained his composure enough so that he was pretty sure he wouldn't blow his load right away, he raised his head upward until his tongue reached her willing sex.

Once he tasted the savory flavor of her pussy, he dove right in, using his index fingers on both hands to spread her lips apart so that he could take turns running his tongue up and down the length of her slit, and then, pulling her clitoris in and out of his lips, like he was sucking a tart candy.

He was just getting used to the sublime pleasure of simultaneously giving as good as he was getting when Caroline suddenly ceased her attentive efforts and breathlessly announced, "I need you inside me." Raising one knee from the mattress and lifting it across his chest, she pivoted and, in a few seconds, had assumed a position on all fours next to him. "Take me from behind", she commanded in a tone that was at once both forceful and winsome.

A cogent, but fleeting thought skirted his mind in a nanosecond. It was nothing more than an instantaneous burst of tiny, ionic neurotransmitters traversing a thousand microscopic synapses -- should he don a rubber? But it was totally lost to him before the words had even left Caroline lips.

He remembered rising from his position on his back and climbing behind Caroline, and before he attempted to find his way in the dim light, she grasped him tightly around the root of his erection and rubbing his bulbous cockhead up and down over her wet opening, she began to slowly feed her pussy more and more of his length, until suddenly she let go of his shaft, and slammed her plump ass in reverse to take all of him at once. She reacted to her own aggression with a loud and appreciative squeal, and as soon as the sound had passed her lips, she started moving, deliberately and rhythmically at first, and then in a much more frenzied and chaotic fashion the more excited she became.

As the room filled with the reverberating sounds of her round rump slapping against his stationary haunches, he remembered thinking that the roles had been reversed and that rather than being the one fucking Caroline Seale, she was most certainly the one fucking him. He also remembered feeling as if perhaps his part in this little tête-à-tête had reduced him to something of a device or and an implement, yet he was surprised that it did not bother him in the least, and that he was more than satisfied playing that part. He kind of liked being treated as her boy toy.

Perhaps his reverie was the reason he was completely unprepared for her orgasm. The sensual groans Caroline exuded grew to a crescendo so fast that by the time he realized she was cumming, she had stopped moving completely with his entire length buried deep inside her as her pussy convulsed around his shaft. And then, just as suddenly, she leaned forward and his erection slipped from the warm, wet sleeve that held it. She turned to him smiling, and said quite matter-of-factly, "that was really good, but I want to be on top now!"

And with that, she pushed him again, and not completely understanding exactly what was happening to him, he fell harmlessly onto his back again with his stiff erection pointing conspicuously to the ceiling. Before he knew it, Caroline was on top again, facing him. She slipped his thickness back into her saturated pussy, then leaned aggressively forward, gripping his hips between her slender, but powerful thighs, and swinging her modest breasts in his face, she began to ride him.

After a minute or so, she changed things up again, and she was doing something to him that he'd never seen done much less felt before, and it was driving him mad with lust. She began twerking her hips back and forth in the saddle, grinding forward so as to create as much friction as possible between their pubic regions. On each downstroke she slid forward so as to grate up against him, and then she pivoted backwards, and raising her round ass as high as she could, she would slide back up his thick pole on each upstroke.

He quickly got into the spirit of things by moving his hands to her fleshy backside and gripping her ass firmly in his outstretched hands. He pushed her down on his stiff shaft, so she could twist her hips and grind herself again him and then he pulled her back up after her clit bottom out against his pubic bone. As she bounced atop him, she responded with pointed affirmation, "Oh god, I love your cock! You're fucking me so good!"

Caroline knew what the hell she was doing, and as she rode him aggressively, her gyrations were turning him on in ways that he had never experienced before. The effect was dizzying, and as the pace of her ride increased, she looked like a derby jockey coming down the stretch run. He couldn't remember ever having been so engorged, and the sensations she was coaxing from his cock were unbelievably intense.

Within only a few minutes of having mounted him, familiar sounds began to gurgle up from deep inside her. Without warning, she was cumming again, and throughout her climax, she didn't stop groaning, "Ugh, god! Ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh!" He felt her orgasm coursing through her, as her pussy gripped, then released the root of his shaft in rhythmic spasms that increased and then slowed in frequency. Her orgasm lasted perhaps 30 seconds.

With her climax spent, it was his turn now. Caroline slowed her ride and, gasping for breath, she fell forward onto his chest, exhausted. But now, he too had reached a reckoning point, and he began thrusting himself into her. Seconds later, he announced his intentions with a throaty moan, "Fuck, I'm cumming!" He arched his back and, with a half dozen loud grunts, "Uuuuuggggghhhhh! Uuuuuggggghhhhh! Uuuuuggggghhhhh! " Uuuuuggggghhhhh! Uuuuuggggghhhhh! Uuuuuggggghhhhh!" he began shooting his hot, thick semen deep inside the svelte woman collapsed on top of him, lifting her entire body up with each spurt until only her toes touched the mattress.

In the moment, he didn't even think of the consequences of his explosion, but he concluded later that in the matter of birth control, the ball was surely in her court. Still, as soon as he was done pumping a dozen ejaculations of hot cum inside her, coating her velvety pussy with an abundance of his thick, sticky seed, he wondered to himself whether they'd just made a big mistake. Apparently, his fears were unfounded, because she never said a word.

After he stopped moving, he wrapped his arms around Caroline and held her tight. They lay bound together in the middle of his bed, silent and satisfied. He could feel her heart thumping inside her chest, and he suspected that she could feel his as well. Soon, she brought her mouth to his and kissed him, long and fervently, and when she broke the kiss, she said abruptly, "I want you to know that you're the best lover I've ever had!"

He blushed, and sensing that he didn't know what to say in response, she smiled and kissed him again. It was a nice compliment, though he didn't really know what to make of it. His first reaction was that she probably said that to every guy she fucked, but then it struck him that that was a very cynical reaction, and he was momentarily embarrassed that he'd thought it.

Then, he remembered Jake. Jake was one of his closest friends. Jake had gone back home that summer to Lansing, but late in the spring semester of the previous schoolyear, it was Jake who had introduced him to Caroline at the Tiki Lounge.

A few minutes later, he found himself embroiled in that long and involved conversation about the Port Huron Statement and a half dozen other political topics. That was when he decided he liked Caroline Seale. He certainly had enjoyed talking to her, and that was the first time he sensed that there was something between them, something worth pursuing.