First Time(s): Roger and Eric

I met Eric when I was a freshman at PJC. We were both working part-time at Montgomery Ward, which was next door more or less, Eric in automotive and I was in lawn and garden, where I'd been for the previous year.

Eric was new, so I showed him around and stuff. He was great guy! A couple of inches taller than I was, which had him a little over 6 ft., but skinny as a rail. Turned out we both weighed exactly the same, 140 lbs. Dark, dark, dark skin, huge brown eyes, insanely curly eye lashes, and so cute in his platforms, leisure suit, and mock turtle neck (it was 1976, after all.)

One cold December day (yes, even in Pensacola it can get cold in December) we were both getting off work at the same time and the rain was really coming down. So I offered him a ride home, not at all out of my way since he lived on campus and campus was only a couple of miles from where I lived with my parents.

I'd never been in a student apartment before and I was in a bit of a daze soaking it all in, the unmade mattress in the middle of the room, the posters, the red-green-black Republic of New Africa flag. We'd gotten kind of soaked running in from the car and Eric had quickly shucked his outerwear. He was standing there in front of his bed, in his briefs and white tank top, playing with the gold chain around his neck.

"You probably ought to dry out before you go home, ya know..."

I looked at him then. He looked back at me.

"Oh," I thought. "That's what this is about..."

I shed my jacket, pulled off my shirt, not something I was too fond of doing but after having lost 30 lbs. in the past year I was no longer ashamed of my saggy tits.

"I'm as pale as you are dark," I told him.

"Yeah," he said, "but look at that beautiful black hair."

It was true -- I had a glossy pelt, at least from mid-chest down.

"You like it?" I asked.

He nodded.

"I want to see yours."

He laughed.

"I don't have any fur, I'm smooth as silk."

"I want to see silk," I said.

He pulled his tank top off. Hard tiny nipples, washboard abs, the tiniest bit of cleavage between his small firm pecs.

"Damn that's hot," I said.

He kissed me.

It was hours before we stopped rolling around on that poor beat up mattress, licking, sucking, chewing, poking, prodding, spurting.

Eric was 2-3 years older than I was and it was clear he had done this before. But not me. For me, it was the first time.

* * *

But not the last, not by a long shot. I moved in with him, much to my parents' chagrin. We went to class, we went to Montgomery Ward, he went to theatre rehearsals (he wanted to be an actor), and I went to the gym.

For such a skinny minny that boy could really cook and I ate it all up. God did I eat. I always wanted to be big and I figured "no time like the present," especially with Eric doing the cooking.

We spent three years together, all the way through PJC and UWF.

The first year I put on 60 lbs. of solid muscle.

At 5'11 and 200 lbs. of fur and muscle, I was hot and I noticed that when we went out plenty of people seemed to be paying attention to me. But I only had eyes for Eric.

Eric, of course, continued to be his svelte self, no matter how often I tried to get him into the gym. He had his "exercises" that he performed religiously but "I don't want to get too bulky" was his constant refrain. He wanted to model, as well as to act, and the idea of being more than a 40 regular was guaranteed to put him in a funk. By that time I was wearing a 48 athletic and not slowing down.

You can imagine the rest.

Two more years, 60 lbs. more.

By the time we graduated, I was 5'11 and 260 lbs., with a 58 inch chest, 22 inch arms, 34 inch waist, and 32 inch quads. In the summer when I went out wearing skin tight gym shorts and a white wife beater I stopped traffic. When I went to the local leather bar wearing ripped jeans and no shirt, I created a mob scene.

* * *

About a year before graduation Eric stopped fucking me -- he said my butt cheeks were too big. Not long after that I stopped fucking him, too -- he said I weighed too much to be on top of him (and he really wasn't interested in doing it other ways, on top of me or doggy style...)

Which was OK with me (well, sort of), he had a hot mouth and I liked giving head as much as getting it and he was good at giving it (and so was I, thanks!) But eventually...

"Ya know," he said, about a month before graduation.

I looked at him.

"Uh oh," I thought.

He wouldn't look at me, much less look me in the eye.

"The thing is..."

I sighed.

"Eric, it's OK, babe. I know it's not working. I don't really know WHY it's not working but..."

He snorted.

"It's simple, Roger, you're too big."

My jaw dropped.

"I mean, the muscle is nice, but there's too much of it. You should have stopped at 180, 200 max. As it is..."

I just stared at him with my mouth open.

"I can't deal with it. You outweigh me by 120 lbs. We look ridiculous together. I don't like having a muscle freak for a boyfriend."

I swallowed.

"Well, if that's the way it is..."

As soon as graduation was over, I packed up my hand-me-down VW Beetle and headed to California.

I never saw Eric again.