Tackling The Team (Vassi Collection )

ONE

By the time I reached the end of my sophomore year in college, I knew that the whole higher education scene was pretty much a crock of shit. Not for those few who had specific goals, like wanting to be engineers or Sanskrit scholars, but for the rest of us who had been told by our parents that a college education was necessary, something like having your teeth fixed when you're a kid. We went through the motions of going to class, and every now and then might meet a teacher who wasn't completely bored with his work, and might even learn something from him. But other than that, all but the most naive kids soon figured out that the entire thing was a game: it kept a lot of people employed and met all the mythic standards of respectable society.

I suppose I would have stuck it through until graduation if I hadn't met Jeff. The only alternative was getting a job, and without a degree there weren't too many interesting possibilities in that area. Also, on the basic level of material comfort, I didn't have anything to complain about. The campus was extremely pretty, almost luxurious. The southern California climate in which it was located was one of the finest in the world. And aside from the periodic stupidity of having to sit through meaningless lectures and performing the rituals of examination time, there was more than ample opportunity for swimming, tennis, exploring the night-life of Los Angeles, and, of course, sex.

It was because I was suffering a dry period in the last category that the event which was to affect the direction of my life took place. My first experience had been at the age of seventeen with a suave business acquaintance of my father's. I often suspected that my father even encouraged it, so that I would be "broken in right."' My old man had a mania for efficiency that bordered on obsession, and it wouldn't surprise me to learn that it extended as far as making sure that his daughter lost her virginity in as commodious a fashion as possible. Manfred had proved himself to be an understanding person as well as a superb technician, so I began my erotic existence with a very high set of standards.

That was to prove to be something of a handicap at school, for the freshmen who were my classmates were, as might be expected, as raw and awkward as they were enthusiastic. I fucked my way through half a dozen of them before I came to the conclusion that getting laid provided a challenge far more complex and difficult than anything being presented to me by my formal studies. Of course, I harbored many of the conventional romantic notions about meeting "Mister Right"' but I was level-headed enough to understand that that might not be for some time, and until then I had to discover an intelligent means to take care of the constantly increasing demands of the mouth between my thighs, an organ that was developing a hunger as vital as that felt by my stomach.