Chapter 1
Marsha had become friends with Debbie Elton the year before. And, she had heard Debbie mention several times that she had a younger brother, Jonathan.
But, Marsha never thought too much about that. She was good friends with Debbie that year, but they had sort of stopped being friends by the next year.
Debbie was more friends with this other girl, and she and Marsha started to drift apart. And, then, Debbie went to move into another apartment with the other girl.
Debbie left her apartment to her brother, who had moved to town that year to start studying at the same college that Marsha and Debbie went to. And, so that second year, after being friends with his sister for a year, and drifting rather bitterly away from her, Marsha met Jonathan.
Someone was selling clothes on the front lawn in front of the cafeteria. This was a normal occurrence at the beginning and end of each semester at the college.
Penniless students would sell off their old clothes, and books and odd things that they had accumulated during their years at school.
And, they'd pick up maybe fifty dollars to go out in the working world with. And, that was what Connie Coleman was doing.
Connie Coleman had been one of the nicest dressed girls at the school. She went in for glamour and girlishness much more than most of the other girls at the intellectual school.
Marsha had actually been sort of good friends with her her freshman year, when they were in the same dormitory. But, they were not really the same type, Marsha thought, and they, too drifted apart.
That happened pretty frequently with Marsha. She seemed to always be drifting rather bitterly apart from her girlfriends.
They usually were much more interested in their newly acquired boyfriends, or in another girl who was more interested in seeking out boyfriends than Marsha. Marsha just wasn't as interested in centering her life around boys.
And, she didn't like the feminist group at the school, either. She didn't want to be plain and unfeminine like those girls were.
The thing was that Marsha liked being girlish, and liked being with girls. She thought that boys were gross and crude.
Some of her girlfriends thought that she was gay. But, she really didn't feel that she was a lesbian.
She was more interested in male bodies sexually. And, she never felt sexually attracted to her girlfriends.
It was just that she preferred being with girls, and doing girlish things. And, she liked kissing a guy occasionally, when she was drunk at a party or something.
But, she just didn't take males that seriously. She was bored with their rough ways.
She liked to read fashion magazines and try out make-up, and giggle. She wished things would be like they were when she was in junior high school.
Then, girls could have fun having crushes on boys, and talking about boys, and giggling. But, they spent all their time together, and having romantic fantasies, instead of boring reality.
Marsha had finally found herself secure enough in her school work, to take time out to earn some money with a part-time job at a drug store.
She worked the cosmetics counter. She really enjoyed her job.
She got to way-lay women, and get them to let her put full make-up on their faces. Marsha liked to draw, and the thing she liked drawing the best were portraits.
So, it was only natural that she should find putting on make-up a lot of fun. And, she felt that it was a creative thing, and art even, as well.
And, along with the sheer enjoyment and satisfaction of the job itself, Marsha also finally had extra money to spend. Her parents paid for her tuition, and living expenses, but she never had money to spend on fun things until she started earning it for herself.
Now, she felt very good with the cool autumn late afternoon breeze blowing around her, and the crisp feel of new dollar bills in her pocket. She had cashed her paycheck that morning, up the hill, at the bank, and the new bills that she kept for the week, were still in her pocket.
But, she was saving up for clothes shopping in a few weeks. So, she only took out a few dollars for milkshakes at the coffee shop, and mint milano cookies.
So, her mood immediately fell when she saw what Connie was selling. Connie had been very spoiled by her parents all during school.
She had lots of money to spend, and all sorts of gorgeous clothes. She only washed with Erno Lazlo soap.
All morning and evening, the girls in the dorm would pass by and hear her splashing the soapy sink water on her face one hundred times. But, her skin was luminous.
In any case, her good times had stopped. Connie had become involved with a boy that her parents disapproved of.
And, to show their disapproval, they had cut off her large allowance. So, in order to take a trip to San Francisco with her boyfriend, Connie had to sell off some of her beautiful wardrobe.
And, that's what made Marsha's face fall. She saw that Connie was selling an article of clothing that she had always admired, and coveted.
And, the price that Connie had printed on a piece of paper, attached to a popsicle stick over that pile of clothes was more than Marsha had in her pocket. And, it wasn't that much either, it was a very good bargain, it was just that Marsha didn't have that much money on her.
What she craved was a floor-length violet velvet cape. It had a grey silk lining and a beautiful cowl and hood.
There were violet silk drawstrings to the top of the cape that were of a slightly darker and more vivid color than the violet of the cape velvet.
The cape's violet was a tantalizing mixture of the subdued and the vivid. It was like a psychic ink blot on a winter day.
Everytime that Connie wore the cape, which was all of three times, Marsha felt a keen sense of envy. The three times that she had worn it were each year at the Christmas formal.
She draped the magnificent cape three times over three gorgeous formal gowns, as she went with three different dates to the three different formal dinner dances. Marsha envied her her outfits much more than her dates.
Marsha had only been once to the Christmas formal dinner dance. She just didn't make enough effort to attract boys.
She dressed as nicely as she could. She took great pleasure in that.
And, she was a handsome girl. So, it wasn't the way she looked that kept boys away from her.
No, it was the way she was always acting so distant from them. Or, not exactly distant, but she didn't act as if male appreciation was the most important thing in her life.
Actually, Marsha did have dreams of a handsome, dark-haired man, falling passionately in love with her. She wanted a man like a movie star.
But, none of the boys that she knew around the school fit her dreams. And, she was not the sort to settle for less than the best that she could imagine.
So, most of Marsha's sex life was in" her romantic fantasies, and in the movies that she went to see every week. And, she dated infrequently.
One boy had asked her to one Christmas formal, and she went with him. She went with him not because she wanted his company, although she didn't mind him compared to the other boys around, but because her mother was so very anxious for her to date, that informing her that she was going to the Christmas formal brought her a generous check with instructions to buy a pretty formal gown with it.
This was Marsha's true delight in getting a date to the prom. Actually, she could have gone stag, or maiden doe, or with a larger group, as many people did.
But, that would have meant buying her own ticket, and Marsha just couldn't spare twenty-five dollars in those years. This year, however, she was determined not only to go to the formal, but to buy a glamorous dress to wear there.
Now, she had the money. But, it was in her bank account, not in her pocket.
And, she could just see herself in Connie's violet velvet cape, with some pale grey, seed pearl satin number underneath it, sweeping into the dining hall. But, she didn't have the money in her pocket.
Marsha still kept the gown that she had worn her sophomore year to the Christmas formal. It was midnight blue, and velvet, as well. It was a narrow A-line from an empire waist.
It trailed in a small point at the back. There was an underslip of powder blue satin.
The high bodice of the dress was trimmed with a band of smooth, powder blue satin. It was very simple, and Marsha thought that it was quite chic.
It had a medium low, square cut neckline. And, the back plunged into a point at the empire waist.
She wore no necklace. She thought that the decorative satin back at the top of the bodice was enough.
Her long, white, graceful neck rose, unencumbered by jewelry. But, she wore her thick, wavy chestnut hair piled up on her head, and on her shell-like ears, she wore silver and blue enamel earrings.
They were like modernistic stylized arrowheads that pointed up to her hair-do. And, they put just the right accent to her upper body, Marsha thought.
The other girls thought that she was rather daring to wear make-up that night of a decidedly blue tone. Her lipstick, even was a shade of violet that was much closer to blue than to a lipstick pink.
Her dark eyes, of course, were magnificently shadowed in shades of blue. And, there was even a bluishness about the silver shimmer in her powder.
Bright blue enamel barrettes kept her hair up, and showed through bits of her thickly, wavily piled coiffeur. Marsha thought that she looked wonderful.
But, she was too sophisticated looking, she thought for most of the girls and boys there. Although a few fashion savants, like Connie, complimented her on her get-up.
Connie also looked magnificent at the Christmas formal, all three years that she went. The first year, she had worn a simple, gold gown.
It was of raw silk, with bits of rough weave all over the fabric. The gown hit just the right point over her matching pumps.
The neckline was a plain halter. And, the silhouette was straight and clingy, with no waistline.
Her hair was in a geometric cut that winter, so she just left it clean and uncurled. It was her natural light brown; color.
She wore half-length beige gloves, and the rest was just the tan that she had got over Thanksgiving with her family, on vacation in Mexico. She wore small diamond stud earrings.
The next Christmastime she wore a hot pink satin jump suit. It had padded shoulders, and electrically blinking tiny lights along the shoulder line.
She wore calf-length purple suede boots, with low heels. There was a thick belt to the jump-suit, with a glowing electric square shaped buckle.
Her hair was dyed bright blue, and greased back. Her high cheekbones were strongly accentuated by dark foundation shadow.
The third time that Connie went to the Christmas formal dinner party, she wore a man's white tails. She had the full outfit, from spats to top hat.
She had had it impeccably tailored to her shapely, but slender figure. She also carried a ivory cane.
Her make-up was very simple. Whitish foundation, small, dark red, shiny lips. Black rimmed eyes that were not very brought out.
She wore her hair blonde, and falling over one eye, like Veronica Lake. She had taps on her shoes, and demonstrated the steps that she had learned in tap dancing that past year.
But, each time, she had completely covered her outfit with the violet, velvet cape and hood. The top hat had flattened down into an enigmatic white circle that she held in her white gloved hands.
Then, she would neatly place the cape in the coat check. And, reveal her surprise outfit to the others.
Marsha really wanted that cape. She didn't believe that there was any stigma in wearing someone else's clothes.
Although, she thought that perhaps it would be a little gauche to wear the cape to the Christmas formal, where Connie had always worn it. Marsha was graduating that spring, and she figured that she could keep the cape to wear out in the world.
She really wanted it, but she didn't have thirty dollars in her pocket. She only had seven dollars.
She asked Connie, "Can I pay you tomorrow? I really want the cape, and it's a good value for thirty dollars, it hardly seems to have been worn. But, I just don't have the money on me right now. I do have it in the bank, and I promise you that I'll pay you tomorrow."
Connie said, "Gee, I'd love to sell it to you. But, I really need to have the money today. I'm leaving tonight, and I have to sell everything before then and have cash for it."
Just then, another girl came up. She was a snotty freshman that Marsha particularly disliked.
The girl said, "I'll buy that cape of yours. It would be perfect to wear to the Christmas formal."
Marsha looked into Connie's eyes. She begged her not to sell it to the girl, but she begged nonverbally, with her eyes.
Connie said, "I'm sorry, I've just sold the cape to Marsha, here."
Marsha's face lit up. The girl stormed off muttering about leaving things where people thought that they were still available.
"Oh, thank you so much, Connie!" Marsha said to her, clasping her hands.
"Well, I didn't want that little bitch to have it. But, I still need the cash within the hour. You'll have to look around to find someone with ready cash that you can borrow." Connie said to Marsha.
"Okay. I'll find someone. I have to!" Marsha said, rushing off to the coffee shop.
It was always difficult to get people to lend money at that school where most people were living from parents' small check to mouth. Marsha had had trouble borrowing dollars to get a milkshake, let along thirty odd dollars.
She went up to her friend, Sandy. Sandy was sitting over coffee, brooding about her biology assignment.
"Do you have any cash on you?" Marsha asked her.
"Hah! I bought this coffee on credit." Sandy said.
"Oh, I don't know what to do. I need thirty dollars within the hour. I have the money in the bank, too. I got paid today. But, Connie Coleman is selling that violet velvet cape of hers, and I really must have it. And, she needs that money now." Marsha said to Sandy.
"Well, why don't you ask Jonathan Elton. I heard that he lends money to people. He's always into little business ventures." Sandy said, turning over her notebook.
"Oh, is that Debbie's brother? I never met him. What does he look like?" Marsha asked Sandy.
"Oh, no! Look, I put my last page of notes down on some jelly!" Sandy wailed.
"Well, quick, scrape it off. I'll go bring you a plastic knife." Marsha said, running off to get one.
She returned. She handed the plastic knife to her girlfriend, and sat quietly as Sandy scraped the jelly off of her biology notes.
When the page was clean except for a purple stain, Sandy said to Marsha, "I saw Jonathan at the other corner of the shop. Let's see, how should I describe him? He's about five; ten, quite thin, rather delicate looking, sort of bird-like. He has short, thick straight dark brown hair, light skin,, but with a nice tone, and nice green eyes. Is that, good enough?"
"Okay, thanks. I think I can spot him with one of your species observations." Marsha said to Sandy.
She went off to the other end of the coffee shop. She spotted Jonathan Elton pretty quickly. '
He had the same coloring as his sister Debbie, Marsha thought, but his body type is totally different. Debbie was short and curvy, rather over-plump.
Jonathan was tall and willowy. And, his hair was straight, and in a bowl cut, wild on his head.
Whereas, Debbie had curly hair, that she kept neatly combed. One wouldn't have spotted them for brother and sister without knowing it, but if one looked, one could see a family resemblance.
Jonathan was sitting at a booth with two freshman. He, himself, was a sophomore transfer from a state school.
They were in animated conversation. Marsha could not see how, though.
The two kids that Jonathan was talking with were some of the most boring members of the Christian fellowship.
They weren't really vile, like some of the older, leader people of the religious club, they were just very bland. And, actually, Jonathan seemed to be doing most of the talking.
The two small freshmen were listening. Marsha approached the booth.
She heard Jonathan saying, "You see, we could organize a clean-up the campus group. It would be ecumenical. All the people who care!"
Marsha was very anxious for her money. So, she just butted into the conversation.
"Excuse me, are you Jonathan Elton?" she asked him in the middle of his next sentence.
"Yes, I am." Jonathan said, turning his big, green eyes at her.
He blinked forth rightly at Marsha. She marveled at how accurate Sandy's description was. He did look like a bird, Marsha thought.
"Uh, I heard that you deal in usury." Marsha said to him, smiling.
"That's clever. I like people who say things cleverly." Jonathan said to her, smiling back.
"Well, I desperately need thirty dollars within the hour. And, I have the money in my bank account, I can pay you back Monday, after the banks open. I just need the cash right now." Marsha said to him.
"Well, let me see. That sounds like reasonable collateral. And, with these two sterling citizens of our school as witness, I guess it's a safe deal. Okay. I just happen to have thirty dollars on me." Jonathan said.
"Oh, thank you! Thanks an awful lot!" Marsha said, grabbing his cool, slender hand.
Jonathan stood up, and reached in the pocket of his loose corduroy pants. He brought out a silver chain material purse.
The two Christian freshman looked at it curiously. Jonathan's pale skin went slightly red.
"Do you like my money purse? I got it when I saw that the price of silver was going to rise. It's a grand investment." Jonathan said to them, and to Marsha.
"Oh, I've always loved those purses. They had a special glass compartment for them at this department store that I went to with my mother when I was little." Marsha said to Jonathan, beginning to covet his purse.
"Oh, yeah? I saw them too when I was little. I was the youngest so Mom always took me shopping with her. That's interesting that we both remember the same thing." Jonathan said to her.
"Yeah." Marsha said, taking the thirty dollars from him.
"So, I'll meet you here on Monday. How about five o'clock in the evening?" Jonathan said to Marsha.
"Fine. And, I'll have the money for you without fail. Thanks a lot. See you." Marsha said.
She ran out of the coffee shop, and went around to the area of grass where Connie was selling off the last of her lovely things. She breathlessly handed Connie the money.
"Oh, you did get it. I was just about to sell it to someone else. Fine." Connie said, pocketing the money.
"Oh, I'm so happy! You've got such nice things. I wish I could buy more of them." Marsha said to Connie.
"Thanks. Well, I didn't want to sell too much. I think that Mommy and Daddy will stop being pig-headed pretty soon, and send me back my allowance. If they'd just meet Charles, they'd like him." Connie said to Marsha.
"Well, I hope everything works out for you." Marsha said to her.
Marsha grabbed up the lush, violet garment. She held it in her arms, and walked with it to the bus stop.
But, before the bus came to bring her back to her apartment, she saw a boy she knew in his car. He waved to her.
"Hey, don't just wave to me! Come here and give me a ride home!" Marsha called to the boy. It was a boy that Marsha found rather attractive. She liked men that were rather pretty.
She liked dark hair, and pale skin. Or, they could be blondes or redheads or of another race.
What was important was that they had vivid coloring. Although, she did have a special feeling for dark hair in contrast to light skin.
And, they couldn't be hairy. She hated beards, mustaches, and all facial hair outside of eyebrows and lashes, which she liked thick, but not overbearing in the case of eyebrows.
And, she liked men that were thin. She admired nice muscles from a sculpture's point of view, but she didn't mind of a guy was sort of weakly skinny.
Height meant nothing to her. She just liked a general fineness about a man.
She liked delicate features and big eyes in men. And, she liked graceful hands.
This boy that was giving her a lift in his Volkswagen fit almost all of her tastes. But, he was a bit on the jockish side, despite his pretty looks.
Marsha knew him from Psychology class, which they had both taken for easy science credit. Marsha because she was a humanities major, Frank, which was his name, because he was not too bright.
He did have a car, though, and Marsha retained his friendship for his looks and for his car. It came in handy, she thought for times like now. "What's that in your arms?" Frank asked her.
"Oh, it's this beautiful cape. You know the one that Connie Coleman always wore to the Christmas formal?" Marsha said to him.
"Then what do you have it for? And, I don't remember it." Frank said to her.
"I just bought it from her, stupid. And, I bet you never noticed what girls wear. Honestly, you boys have no clothes sense." Marsha said to him.
"That's not true. I like pretty underwear." Frank said to her.
"Oh, yeah? Do you like to feel it against your cock, Frank?" Marsha asked him, suggestively, and rather tauntingly.
"Sure. You have any?" Frank asked her.
"All my underwear is pretty. But, I've got some special stuff at home in my drawer. Why don't you come up, and I'll let you feel it?" Marsha said to him. Her purchase and her conversation with Jonathan, who she decided that she wanted to get to know had stimulated Marsha. She was feeling very sensual.
Her breasts felt big and soft underneath her sweater. She, felt them bounce in their firm shapes, up against the nylon top of her slip.
"Is that a, proposition?" Frank asked her.
"Well, we'll see." Marsha said to him as the car made its way through the evening traffic.
Finally, they came to Marsha's apartment. She lived alone that year.
Fortunately, there was a parking space right in front of the apartment house. Frank parked the car.
Then, Marsha said, "You wanna come around and help me out with this? You are coming up, aren't you?"
"Sure, if you want me to, Marsha." Frank said, his eyes gleaming shyly.
He got out of his side of the car, and went around to the passenger side. He opened the door for Marsha.
Then, she handed her purse to him. She kept the violet velvet cape in her arms.
"Here, you hold my purse, and open the door for us, okay?" Marsha said to him.
"Okay." Frank said, and took the purse in his left hand. He slipped it over his wrist.
After Marsha stepped out of the car, he closed her door. Then, he walked after her to the door of the apartment house.
It was a small, three story building. All of the tenants except one old lady, and a nurse, were students at Marsha's college.
There were only nine apartments in the building. The rent was cheap, and the plumbing was good, as was the heating facilities.
It wasn't the most aesthetically pleasing building. It was obviously built with swift construction in mind.
It was a red brick block, with no decoration. Marsha liked nice architecture, and she never got a thrill looking at the building in which she lived.
Inside it was all straight, blocky lines as well. So, she tried to make her interior decoration as nice as possible.
She leaned against the glass entrance door. She watched Frank walk up the concrete path to her.
She started to laugh. Frank looked at her curiously.
"What are you laughing about?" Frank asked her when he got up to her.
"You." Marsha said to him, giggling rather impolitely in his face.
"What's so funny about me?" Frank said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet.
"Oh, you just looked so funny carrying that purse on your hand as you came up the path. It seemed so fitting to you, despite the fact that you're such a jock." Marsha said to him, stifling another laugh.
"Well, Jeez. I, was just carrying it because you told me to." Frank said to her, sticking the purse under his armpit.
"Never mind. Find my keys and open the door. It's cold outside and it's nice and warm inside." Marsha said.
Frank searched through her rattily messy purse, of which Marsha was not in the least bit ashamed. Finally, he found her keys amid the bronze foil of gum wrappers, lipstick stained tissues, a make-up brush, some nibbled on pencils, some pieces of paper all ancient and crumpled up with addresses on them, bits of loose change, sun glasses, a broken cigarette, and an empty cigarette case, a cigarette lighter which had an outside which was plastic flowers, an old Polaroid of Marsha and her sister, a ticket from a revival movie house from when Marsha went to see "Now, Voyager," an old tube of flavored lipstick, some newly bought make-up compacts, a purple leather wallet, a clipping from the "National Inquirer" that Marsha thought was amusing, a cinnamon sucking candy, a pen with a polished piece of marble on its clip that Marsha had stolen from a downtown bank's loan office, an O.B. tampon, a couple of bobby pins some of which had the tips eaten off, a yellow plastic topped barrette, a coated rubber band, and a number of other things.
He put the key in the front door lock, and finally figured out the right way to turn it. Marsha tapped her foot impatiently.
She had tried to give Frank instructions, but he didn't know which direction was clockwise, and he didn't know his right from his left. She sighed, and walked into her hallway.
Marsha lived on the second floor, and she led the way up the stairs. Frank watched her ass wiggle as she mounted the stairs.
He remembered why he was coming up to her place. He felt his heart beat poundingly.
Marsha took the keys from Frank, shifting the cape onto her other arm, and, unlocked her door. Frank followed her into her apartment.
Marsha laid the cape down gently on a chair. Then, she stretched and turned to Frank.
"Hey, this is a nice place!" Frank said, looking at her studio apartment.
"Oh, you haven't been here before, have you?" Marsha said.
This was Marsha's first unfurnished apartment. She managed to wheedle her mother into sending her some money to buy furniture and decorations.
Still, she had to search around for bargains and old neat things. And, she was lucky, for there were many low-priced antique shops around the town.
Also, Marsha embraced funky punk taste, so certain Eisenhower age furnishing in pinks, aqua's, and Formica were to her taste, and were not yet to the provincial tastes of the town. So, these things were in Goodwill instead of all cleaned up and for ten times the price in a good interior decoration store.
Marsha could not do anything about the ugly textured green carpet that came with the apartment. So, she tried to work around it.
She thought that it might fade away to be a sort of neutral base if she put mostly pink and grey things in the room. Those were her favorite colors.
They dominated the main room, while the kitchenette and the bathroom were aqua and silver, respectively. Marsha slept on a sofa bed, in order to have more space in her studio apartment.
It had a rounded back and arms, and three cushions. Marsha had found it for fifteen dollars, including delivery.
So, she felt that she could afford to have slip covers made for it. It's ordinary upholstery was an ugly brown tweed.
So, she had pink and grey striped velour slip covers made. And, her sheets, which usually remained hidden during the day, were pale pink cotton, gotten at a white sale at Woolworths.
There was a great twisted loveseat with a pink-red vinyl covering that she found at a junk shop. And, there was a big, dark grey vinyl easy chair, that tilted back.
Marsha thought that that type of chair was a necessity. She sat there most of the time, and when there was a bunch of people in the apartment, there was usually all sorts of intrigue going on to steal the chair from whomever was sitting on it.
There were a number of hideous pictures around the room. There were two velvet paintings, that Marsha had found at a garage sale.
And, there was an oil painting of a still life, where half a bottle had been pasted underneath where the bottle was painted. And, the rest of the picture was in sort of an half abstract expressionist style.
Then there were various postcards! tacked up on one wall. Marsha sat down in the easy chair, after putting her newly purchased cape away.
"Sit down. Or are you too anxious to. see my silky underwear?" she said to Frank.
"Uh, okay." Frank said, and placed his firm ass awkwardly on the edge of the love-seat.
They were silent. Marsha realized that she didn't really have anything to say to Frank. So, she stood up, and walked to her, fake Italian provincial bureau.
She opened up the top drawer. The smell of lilac sachet wafted over to Frank's nostrils.
He perked up. Marsha motioned him over to where she was in front of the bureau.
He went over and stood beside her, looking into the fragrant tissue paper in the drawer. He felt a hard lump in his pants.
Marsha took off the tissue paper, and showed him the collection of delicate ladies lingerie underneath it in the drawer. She took out a silky, lace trimmed number, and held it up to his face.
Marsha stroked his face with the soft, slinky material. Frank in-took his breath sharply.
"You like that, don't you?" Marsha said to the boy.
"Yes, yes, I do." Frank answered her, leaning his cheek into the feminine material.
Marsha rubbed her hand over the crotch of his jeans. She felt his hardon underneath it.
"This really excites you, doesn't it?" Marsha asked Frank.
"Well, yeah." Frank said, his voice a bit hoarse.
"I bet you like these frilly panties even better than what's supposed to be underneath them, don't you?" Marsha said to him.
"I don't know what you mean, Marsha." Frank said to her, still putting most of his attention on the silken material that she was stroking his cheek with.
"You know what I mean, you parity loving jock." Marsha said to him, smirking.
Marsha took the panties away from Frank's face. She twisted down to the Ugly green carpet.
She locked her fingers into Frank's jean waistband. She unsnapped the top of his fly.
Then, she started to unzip the zipper. Frank's hard-on was throbbing, and pressing out to its freedom.
Finally, Marsha had pulled Frank's jeans down, and his red underpants as well. She looked at his underpants, which she held in her hand.
Dreamily, Frank had followed her orders, and stepped out of his two pairs of pants, as she stripped him of them. Then, he stood there, naked from the waist down, his cock erect into the air.
"Do all your jock friends wear these stretchy red briefs?" Marsha asked Frank, contemptuously.
"No. Some wear the regular white ones, which I wear sometimes, too. I don't think anyone pays too much attention. Just whatever their mother buys them." Frank said to her.
"I bet you wish your mother bought you underpants like this instead." Marsha said, waving her frilly panties in the air.
Frank laughed. Marsha placed her hand, holding the panties, against his hard-on.
"Come on, try these on for size." Marsha said to him.
Frank laughed. But, he was turned on by her hand on his cock, so he went along with her game.
She had him step into the leg holes of the silken, lace trimmed white panties. Then, she got onto her knees, and pulled the panties up his hairy legs.
"You really should shave, you know." Marsha said to him.
Frank laughed. He felt all trembly as the nice material went up his legs.
Finally, Marsha pulled the waistband up to his navel. And, he felt his balls and his cock incased in the girl's panties.
"You really like that, don't you?" Marsha said to him.
"Uh-huh." Frank said, as Marsha rubbed her hand along the outside of the panties.
Then, Marsha pulled the waistband high up, and the silky crotch of the panties pulled into Frank's ass crack. He shifted his weight uncomfortably.
Marsha shoved on Frank's chest, and she had enough power to push him onto the floor. He lay on his back.
He could feel the pinch of the small, elastic waistband against his larger, male waist. And, he felt the stiff lace scratch him around his thighs.
But, his cock felt just great, he thought, as it pressed against the clean, white silky material.
Then, Marsha climbed on top of him. She pressed her jean clad crotch against his panty-covered one.
Her pubic bone must have been sticking out, for it felt hard against Frank's cock. She lay on top of Frank's taller, muscular body, and began to hump him.
The silky material and the warmth of her hard vulva rubbed against him. Frank felt so excited.
His cock just seemed to get bigger and bigger. Marsha pressed hard against him, but there was the delicate material first, against his cock.
Back and forth she rubbed her crotch against his cock. Frank found it difficult to breath.
She was pulling the panty fabric, which was pulling his cock skin back and forth. He was galloping toward climax.
Marsha looked down sternly on his melting face. She went faster and faster in her ride on top of him.
"Don't you mess those panties up!" she said to him, waving her finger in front of his face.
But, she kept on humping him, and he was so aroused. And, soon, he couldn't hold back anymore, and the come started to spurt out of him.
Marsha continued to rub against him, fast and hard. Finally, it was all too much for him.
His cock just kept on spurting spunk. He felt like every last drop of jism was being pulled out of him.
So, he screamed. Marsha stopped humping him.
She rested her body on top of his. She didn't say anything for a while.
Frank had almost regained his breath. Then, Marsha sat up.
She moved down on his upper thighs. She looked down on his smaller basket through the sticky panties.
"What did you do?" she yelled.
She put her hand down to the silky panties, now defiled by his ejaculate. She pulled the clingy wet fabric from his cock, pulling at his pubic hair as she did so.
"What did I tell you?" Marsha asked him.
Frank didn't say anything. Marsha glared at him.
"What did I tell you?" She demanded of him.
"Uh, you said not to dirty your panties. I'm really sorry Marsha, but you got me so excited. What did you expect?" Frank said to her apologetically.
"What did I expect? What did I expect? I expect when I put a brand new pair of silk and lace panties on a girl, she'll be a lady. She won't get them all filthy." Marsha said to Frank angrily.
"But, I'm not a girl. A boy shoots when he comes, that's the way it is." Frank said to her, shaking his head.
"You wear my panties, you're a girl. You female athletes are really something, you know?" Marsha said to him.
Frank did not know what to make of Marsha's remarks about him, calling him a girl. But, he felt guilty about fouling her panties.
"Now, I hope you'll be a lady with class, and rinse out my panties, now that you've violated them." Marsha said to Frank.
"Sure, Marsha, sure. How do you want me to wash them?" Frank asked her.
"Don't you know anything? Who will want to marry a girl that can't even rinse out a pair of panties?" Marsha said, exasperatedly.
Marsha grabbed Frank's hand, roughly, and pulled him up beside her. She had gotten up, and had spoken that last few lines on her slightly spread feet, her arms akimbo.
"Now, take those off!" Marsha said to Frank.
Frank pulled the panties down to his hips. Then, he lifted first one leg, then the other out of them.
He held the come filled panties in his right hand, and let Marsha pull him into the bathroom. She placed him in front of the sink.
"Now, first, run some luke-warm water, and rinse out the panties. Be sure to clean the crotch out well." Marsha said harshly to Frank.
Frank wasn't sure what luke-warm meant, so he just tried for warm water. He twisted the hot and the cold spigots until a reasonably tepid mix was achieved.
Then, he held the frilly silken panties under the faucet and let the water flow over them. Marsha watched him sternly.
Then, she bent down to the tile floor beside her toilet. She got back up holding a bottle of woolite.
"Now, pour a little bit of this onto the crotch. And, don't scrub it in." Marsha said to him.
Frank did as she instructed. There was still a little bit of his slimy come stuck to the silky material of the panty crotch.
He blushed when he saw it. And, he quickly poured the woolite onto it.
Then, Marsha put the plug in the sink, and filled it with cold water. She grabbed the panties from Frank's hands, and put them into the water.
"Now, swirl them around a bit, Franny." Marsha said to him.
Frank swirled the panties around in the cold, woolite penetrated water. Then, he shook the moisture off of his chilled fingers.
"Now, we'll just have to wait a few minutes until the woolite does its work." Marsha said to Frank.
They stood there in the small bathroom. Frank looked at the bra hanging on the shower curtain rod.
He saw the flat plastic boxes of make-up lying on the corner of the sink compartment. He smelled the powder that had stuck in the air since Marsha had powdered herself with wild flowers talcum after her shower that morning.
He saw with embarrassment that his cock was starting up again. Marsha soon noticed that, too.
"I bet you wish that you had a bathroom like this, instead of that old locker room thing you have in your dorm, don't you?" Marsha said.
"I guess so." Frank said, blushing as his cock achieved full erection.
"That place smells of dirty socks. I had to use it once. I don't think that they should make boys and girls use the same bathrooms." Marsha said.
Frank lived in a coed dormitory, but it used to be single sex, so there was only one bathroom. Everybody took it as a matter of course.
There were only a few single-sex dorms left on campus. Everyone wanted to mix together.
"I lived in a single-sex dorm. I think that us girls should stay together. I don't want boys' smelly stuff around me, do you?" Marsha asked Frank.
Frank shrugged his shoulders. He found Marsha a lot stranger than he thought she might be.
"Okay, now, pull the plug, and rinse out the panties with cold water." Marsha told Frank.
Frank held the soapy panties under cool water until every bit of the woolite, and of his come were gone from them. The material did not feel so good in his hands when it was wet.
Then, Marsha said to him, "Now, I'll bring you a clean towel, and I want you to place the panties flat on the towel."
She went out to the closet, and brought out a small, maroon colored towel. She placed it on the toilet seat, which she closed.
She watched Frank, eagle-eyed to make sure that he didn't leave a wrinkle in her new panties. Then, she folded the other side of the towel over the panties.
"Okay, that should do now. But, the panties will never be the same." Marsha said, pouting.
"Well, I'm sorry, Marsha. What more can I tell you? I know, you tell me where to go, and I'll go buy you another pair, two pairs even." Frank said to her.
"Okay. Go to Lindstrongs. And, you better get three pairs." Marsha said to him.
"Alright." Frank said, thinking three a bit excessive for what he had done.
"And, keep one of the pairs for yourself." Marsha said.
Frank blushed. He started toward the door. Marsha shut it behind him.
In the hallway, he realized that he was naked from the waist down. He pounded on Marsha's door.
"Hey, Marsha, let me in! My pants are in there." Frank said to her.
Marsha didn't answer. He pounded some more.
Finally, Marsha opened the door, keeping the chain lock latched, however. And, she threw Frank out something.
"Here, cover your ass with this." Marsha said to him, and shut her door again.
Frank opened up the folded material that she had shoved into his hands. It was a large, pleated skirt.
Frank pounded some more on her door, but Marsha refused to answer. Finally, he decided that wearing a girl's skirt was less embarrassing than having to walk out naked;
So, he stepped into the large skirt, and sucked his stomach in to button the one button at the waist. Then, he zipped up the side zipper.
He had his shoes and socks on. Marsha had taken his pants and his underwear off over them.
Frank looked down on himself. He thought that he looked ridiculous.
But, as he started to walk down the stairs, he felt good. His erect cock rubbed against the soft, pleated cotton.
The pretty rose color of the material made him feel happy, and attractive. He gaily walked out to his car.
By the time that he had driven back to campus, forgetting even what he had driven off for in the first place, he felt completely comfortable in Marsha's rose colored, pleated skirt.
He parked his car, and started to walk across the yard, to his dormitory. People started to give him strange looks.
Then, all of a sudden, he realized what he was wearing. He blushed deeply, and ran toward his dormitory room.
"Hey, Cinderella, what's the hurry? You about to turn into a pumpkin?" a boy from his racket ball class yelled at him.
Frank was near tears as he finally got behind his door. He sunk onto his bed.
He put his hand limply to his forehead. He was sweating.
His body felt weak and trembly. But, the skirt that had sunk around his crotch felt nice, and still excited him.
Frank's cock was regaining the erection that it had lost when his fellow jock had yelled at him. He pressed Marsha's skirt material against his cock, and began to rub at it.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He felt so good, he felt, well, pretty, he thought.
Almost immediately, his cock spurted semen into the pleats at the front of the skirt. Frank lay back afterwards, and breathed deeply.
He stretched his arms up above his head, and sighed voluptuously. Finally, he sat up.
He looked down at his lap. There was a dark spot of wetness on the front of the skirt.
Frank clicked his tongue in his mouth. He lifted the skirt delicately from his limp cock.
"I'll have to go buy some woolite." Frank thought to himself.