Violating the Honor Code

They spent a long time choosing champagne, then an appetizer, and finally a meal. They laughed occasionally. It took them nearly three hours to dine. She was probably explaining why she had nicked his calculator. From the position of his eyes, he was more interested in the intricacies of her cleavage. Over dessert, his scrawny claw closed over her hand, and she let it. The dessert must have been enticing because I saw him drool.

It was nearly midnight when Professor Heinz, leaning heavily on his walking stick, accompanied Imogene back toward her dorm. On the way they passed a shadowy copse, and decided to duck into the trees' cover. It was quite a test of my camera's night vision.

Thank God I hadn't eaten anything or drunk more than four fruity drinks, because what I saw turned my stomach. In the shadows, with low level lights from the base of a few of the trees, I saw her kiss Professor Heinz's withered lips. And not just a peck. Imogene kissed him like he was a younger Brad Pitt, with her arms around his neck and her breasts hard against his cardigan sweater. His breathing became rapid, and when Imogene let loose, he was panting. He leaned on the walking stick with his right hand, and with his left gently took her hand in his. She smiled and came close to kiss again. He guided her hand to the zipper of slacks, and held it there. His head leaned back, his eyes were heavenward, his mouth agape, or else he might have seen the shock and disappointment on Imogene's face.

She didn't move her hand, and eventually, Professor Heinz looked to see what the delay was.

She shook her head, wagged her finger, and made a sad face. Hers was nothing compared to Professor Heinz's sad face.

"Please?" he signed.

She shook her head again, but gave the old boy's old boy a firm shake goodbye. She left him and walked properly back to her dorm. Professor Heinz stayed put for awhile. My camera captured his consolation prize, a silver medal for personal performance.

Thus endeth date 3.

Lesson learned: Keep the monster caged.

# # #

For a girl who walked alone, talked to no one and couldn't hear, she sure had a lot of dates.

Thursday morning she wore my favorite, her abbreviated jean shorts with a western shirt tied at the waist. Cowboy's subtle influence? I videoed her jaunty stride through the quad. Then she saw me and surprised everyone by waving enthusiastically and running up to me. I stowed the camera.

It was hard to concentrate on her brown eyes, her petite smile and her golden curls when so many other parts of her body were jostling for attention. I must have done good though, because she put her hands on my shoulders and leaned in for one of those soft, long kisses.

"Ready for that date right now?" I asked. I certainly was.

She looked at me sideways, meaning I should know better.

"Okay, tonight it is."

Quick kiss, and she was off again. The camera loved her as she was leaving, too.

As the evening approached, I was nervous. Given the constraints that Imogene set on interpersonal hand movements, I had to wonder if this date would satisfy either of us. I had high hopes though.

At eight I showed, dressed in casual student attire. Imogene wore dark jeans, a blouse with a scooped neck and a drawstring at the waist, and loafers. Not as sexy as other times, but I was happy just to see her. The dark jeans seemed painted on, caressing each curve from her hips to thighs to her calves. The blouse was a light blue material, and the scooped neck was generous enough that it was clear no bra constrained her.

She returned my new jacket. Before I could thank her, she put her hands around my neck and we kissed. My hands stayed safely at her waist. It was so tiny I could put touch my thumbs and long fingers together while encircling her. Below my hands was the heft of her pelvis, but I behaved. We kissed until I could no longer trust my hands to stay in a safe zone, but I caught the teasing look in her eyes.

Imogene just loved to be kissed. She surrendered herself more and more with each touch of our lips. I enjoyed kissing her, too, but even more when I saw what the effect of kissing her could be. It seemed as long as I kissed her, I could do no wrong.

Hand in hand, we strolled to the campus foreign film festival. "La Dolce Vita" came with subtitles, but lasted over three hours. At the end, Imogene cried at the lovers' isolation. She was familiar with isolation. I kissed away her tears.

We found a bar, and shared a bottle of vino. Our hands were tight nearly the entire time. No kisses at this time, though. She looked eager to offer her lips to me, but I wanted to wait a bit.

It was nearly 2:00 am when we arrived at her dorm. She pulled me to her. We kissed me again, and I behaved as well as I could. Still she held my hand. Then, with a slight smile, a partially raised eyebrow, she pulled me to her room.

She may be giving me a green light.

Imogene's single was on the first floor, and handicapped accessible. Bulbs lit if someone phoned or was at her door. Her computer and TV were closed captioned. There was an emergency button located in each room, should she need help. The smoke detector flashed like a stun grenade instead of just beeping. Wires led to pads on the bed that vibrated if needed.

"Just like your cell phone?"

She smiled and pulled back her blouse hem to show where the phone lay, deep near the front of her waist.

"Every call must cheer you up." A little salacious but okay.

She laughed at my joke.

I was used to music, or just noise in general. But it was suffocatingly quiet in Imogene's room. She pulled a desk chair for me, and positioned it in front of her bed. Then she sat on the bed. We kissed again, my hands on my own thighs, her hands around my neck. I found that I really like kissing this woman, and she really liked being kissed.

As she lifted her head back, I kissed her earlobe and then her neck. I found the artery in the neck that women like for applying perfume, and sucked gently on it. Her breathing quickened and her chest began to heave. I didn't quit, and kept on kissing the neck. At one point, I stopped to look at her. Her eyes were closed and she was lost in her pleasure. Then she opened her eyes and questioned me with them. Why had I stopped?

I looked at her. There was no need to say anything. We both knew we had reached a critical point in our new relationship. From observing her previous dates, I knew the next step was not up to me.

Imogene had to give the green light.

She pushed her hair back, and realized it was a mess. So she knotted it on her head, leaving her slim neck vulnerable to more arterial kisses. She stood up, and kissed my forehead. Then she took the bottom of her blouse and lifted it gracefully over her head. Glancing everywhere in the room but at me, she stood exposed, topless. Her breast were more lovely than I had dreamed. They were full, lush, and nearly symmetrical. The pink areolae were on the upper side of the curve. Nipples as firm as pencil erasers jutted from the center. I saw her ribs, her abs, then her torso tapered to the narrow, intriguing waist.

"You are beautiful, Imogene."

She stood with her hip cocked and wouldn't meet my eyes. She was blushing, or flushed from kissing. I tried to stand but she pushed me back into the chair. She sidled closer, and her nipples were centimeters from my mouth.

Then with two fingers she touched my lips. I kissed her fingers, and she moved them to her left breast, and encircled the tip. I hesitated. She repeated the sign. This time I understood.

She was giving me a green light.

Ever so slowly, I leaned forward. There must have been static electricity in the room, because I felt a shock on my lips, and from Imogene's gasp, she felt it on her left breast, too. But she didn't back away. She let me linger for a while, and I heard her breathing more insistently. After a while, she took two fingers, touched my lips and then her right breast. I moved close to her other breast. Again, there was the same shock, almost like the charge from touching the tip of your tongue to a nine volt battery.

Softly I kissed her pencil top nipple, then sucked it until it slipped into my mouth, and my teeth could hold it. Imogene ran her fingers through my hair, pulling me closer.

I nipped with my teeth, and she shivered. The next time I bit just a little harder. Her fingers were tight in my hair.

When her fingers touched my lips again, she directed me to explore the sides, the underside and the center of her bosom. I kissed her pink areola, and then traced the curve of her breast with my tongue. In the center of her chest, between both breasts, I paused and kissed her breast bone.

I placed both my hands on her hips, then put my fingers into the waistband. She smiled, but wagged her finger at me. Oh, I couldn't! I wouldn't! But she sighed deeply at the same time.

I kissed her nipple again, and the same spark passed between us. I opened my mouth wider, and used my tongue more quickly. Soon she was panting, and pulled my head back to stop me. I thought that might be it, night over, but instead, Imogene unzipped and stripped off her dark jeans. Without looking at me, she put her fingers into the strings of her thong, and zip! It flew off, too.

She was unshaved there, but wetness showed through the wilderness. The honey-blond thatch matched her hair. Imogene stood with her legs slightly apart. With her fingers she touched my lips, and then she touched herself. I swung her onto the bed, and knelt down between her legs. She laid back, supported by her elbows.

Her pubic hair was surprisingly soft and silky. My tongue found a way through, and I enjoyed the taste of her. She was flushed, or blushing, again. As I licked her, she rasped heavily, until she laid flat on the bed, her arms over her head. She moaned, she hummed, she made deep guttural noises. Her thighs shivered.

I kept licking until my jaw threatened to lock up. Imogene gave another shudder, and sat up.

She took my hand, found two fingers, and placed them on her own lips. Then she pushed the hand back to me.

She was playing our game, and offered to give me a turn. I touched her lips with two fingers, and then my own. She looked surprised. She pouted, but leaned forward to kiss me. This time we both stood, and I held her completely naked body. Her right leg pushed up against my groin. She held onto me, and wrapped her left leg around me. She must have known what she was doing to me. She ripped open my shirt. Buttons rattled against the wall and on the floor around us. If she could have heard them, it would have really turned her on. It aroused me.

My two fingers touched her lips and then my own nipple. She smiled slyly. She was a good student. She found the small nub of nipple and tasted it, raising her eyebrows playfully. Then she took my hand again and raised it to her lips. She wanted another place to set her lips.

Oh, hell. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I touched the outline of my penis. She wagged her finger again. Oh, I couldn't! I wouldn't!

So I bent down and began to softly kiss her breasts again. She played cool, but soon she was arching her back and tossing her head side to side. From the look in her eyes she had changed her mind.

She pulled open my jeans, and liberated my throbbing penis. With gentle fingers she traced along its length, and rubbed the tip. Now it was my turn to pant.

Maybe I'm just flattering myself, but I don't think she ever sucked a cock before mine. She brought her lips close to its tip and studied it closely, for too long. Then she kissed the tip a several times.

I gave her a thumbs up. She laughed, and soon found room to put the entire thing in her mouth. She sucked, she slurped, she rolled her tongue around it. She giggled as she did it, innocently enjoying.

I hoped she would kiss my balls, too, but that was probably asking too much for a first time.

My pressing problem was whether to cum in her mouth or pull out and spew wheresoever God wills. One is physically pleasing, the other aesthetically satisfying. Oh, hell. They both feel good. Quite the moral dilemma.

Imogene solved it by stopping fellatio.

She took her two fingers and raised them. But instead of touching my lips, she touched the tip of my penis. Then she touched herself between her legs.

Green light.

I fished a condom from my pants pocket as quickly as possible. She watched wide-eyed while I began to roll it down. It looks a little crazy the first time, and she hesitated. Which is her prerogative. Although we had gone awfully far along.

"I understand, Imogene."

She shrugged her shoulders this time, along with the finger wag.

So I kissed her again, on the lips this time, and she seemed to melt into me. I found the edges of her lips and kissed them, and moved from there to her neck, her shoulder and the middle of her chest. She was breathing deeply, expectantly. So, I went to the well one more time. I felt the electric shock from the tip of each nipple, tongued the warmth of her areolae, and sucked on her trembling breasts until she was digging both hands in my hair.

Her right hand strayed down the length of my torso, and stopped at my pelvis. Then, she took a deep breath, grabbed my throbbing cock, and positioned it at her engorged mons. I took if from there. I entered gently at first until I felt resistance. Her first time. I looked at Imogene, who was biting her lower lip. She nodded her head, then closed her eyes. I thrust with my hips, and plunged deep into her. I expected a scream, but out came a kind of squeak.

We rocked into each other, and found we had a natural rhythm together. We enjoyed the rhythm, the warmth, the pleasure together for as long as I could stand it. She came, and I exploded, too.

As I lay on her, both of us lost in postcoital sweat, breathing and heart rates, I realized my dream had come true.

I was resting on her pillowy thighs, while kissing her voluptuous tits.

# # #

For the next few months, we were inseparable and probably unhygienic. I was reluctant to take her to my room very often. First, I didn't want to bump into the Troll. Second, after the first few nights together, I found I was missing a textbook or two after she left. It was probably unfair to blame her. At least I still had my calculator. On balance, a small price to pay.

Imogene was uncomfortable staying in my room, and after being in her room, I understood. There was nothing that would alert her visually to dangers. She didn't want to close her eyes after we made love, but huddled into my side. Every few minutes she raised her head, expecting some kind of trouble.

We made love in classrooms, the science library, the bookstore and cafeteria, and outside in the quad for God's sake. Imogene proved to be quite clever in finding new trysting places. Who was this sexy minx who had started out so shy and reserved?

She relished the risk element. We took precautions, but were not completely successful. Occasionally we were discovered. Imogene would smile demurely, quickly dress and we'd escape leaving the discoverer with an image burned in the brain. Students who stumbled over us were cool with it. Professors pretended not to see. Librarians tsk'd loudly. TA's tended to use cell phones to capture a part of the show. But nothing diminished her enthusiasm for sex.

I couldn't get enough of Imogene's body. She started taking the pill which made the frequency and spontaneity of our lovemaking even greater. In truth, she was beginning to wear me out. Even worse, I couldn't video her the way I used to since we were always kissing, cuddling or canoodling. Don't get me wrong: I appreciated having her in my arms. But I missed the sexy images that floated over my screen.

Imogene began teaching me American Sign Language, and I concentrated on the nouns for all her body parts, and the verbs for what I could do to them. She delighted that I was such an apt pupil. In return, I taught her how to use the video camera. She had an eye for composition, color and the strangely unusual grouping. She was attracted to students with disabilities, which I understood. She progressed rapidly, and I showed her how to edit with software to enhance what she had captured. When she had become comfortable with the camera, it was time to use it in our lovemaking.

The first time I pulled out my camera, she wagged her finger. We were secure in her dorm room. I kissed her repeatedly as I argued how beautiful she would look.

"U LIKE?" she texted.

"YES!!"

She shrugged. "PERV"

"OK."

It took a few minutes and several long kisses more to convince her to trust me. I showed her how achingly lovely her face appeared on film. To further demonstrate, I taped her from the neck down while she was clothed. "See? No ID."

Then she took off her top, and I video'd her soft bosom in flattering light. I replayed that for her.

She reddened, but cuddled closer to me. She was curious but being so brazenly on display went against her reserved nature.

"U OK?"

She shrugged and put her blouse on.

I signed, "I love seeing your pretty face, your sexy figure again and again."

"You see me always any something." I think that's what she signed.

"I understand. Still I want to picture of you."

"It's not comfortable for me. At this time."

"I know. Camera sees your nervousness. I love that."

She kissed me, then bit her lower lip.

"I fear."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, no doubt. I fear me."

"I don't understand."

"I fear I like it too much. A great, great amount."

I swallowed and reined in my imagination. "In video camera?"

She nodded. Her face said she was sorry for her conflicting emotions. She realized she was confusing me.

"Only you see?"

"OK."

"No Internet?"

"No. Personal. Private."

She kissed me deeply. Then she dimmed the lights. She took the camera and put it into my hand.

"OK. I love you."

As the red camera light glowed, she performed a sexy striptease as the heavy shadows played across her zaftig body.

# # #

Our mistake was doing it in my frat house room one more time late in November.

Sure it was a mess. Neither the Troll nor I had spent much time there. So what do you expect? I discovered Imogene liked the Troll's many mirrors and she could feel the blaring music. With the camera focused from my corner bookcase, she danced for me and I appreciated every twerk. She saw herself reflected from many angles as she moved. With the window closed, my room was warm on cold nights, and from the fourth floor, you had a good view of the campus. I had to remind Imogene that the campus had a striking view of her, too, as she stood exposed in the full length window. She shrugged, and signed, "Let them look." Then she pulled me toward her, and we kissed in the full length window. She was completely nude and she pushed me onto my bed but remained posing in the window for anyone lucky enough to be glancing up. Eventually, we made luxurious, sensuous love. Afterward, she slept next to me, barely wrapped in the sheets.

That night I couldn't sleep, imagining what the camera had captured.

The next morning, she knelt on my bed with the bed sheet pooling around her haunches, noodling her finger around my chest, teasing my nipples with her draped hair. I lay on my back with my hands behind my head, thanking God every minute.

Then I heard flip, flop, flip, flop coming down the hallway.

Imogene didn't notice the Troll come in, but he noticed her. Her back was to him, exposed to the crack of her rounded butt cheeks. Her hair hung forward but her breasts were clearly visible. Especially from the side, Troll could see the ample swelling of beautiful tits.

I wrestled to get up, but Imogene thought I was teasing and kept pushing me down.