Thanksgiving Day Blessings - Part One
By Wanderer
Some things are even better than turkey for Thanksgiving


This is adult material. Please do not read if you are under age 18 or laws in
your country forbid you to do so.

I graduated from high school and I was off to college. I guess you could say
that I had led a pretty sheltered life up to then. My parents had been worried
about the youth culture. No concerts. One hour of television a night. Study
constantly. They had reluctantly let me go to the Senior Prom but I didn't
have a date. I was a wallflower. That was just as well because I didn't know
how to dance anyway. Oh, it wasn't that I was bad looking, in fact I was
considered quite handsome. High school girls used to try to make time with me,
but they quickly realized I was pretty shy and just didn't know how to talk to
them or act around them. I was lacking in the social skills. I never had a
date all through high school because my father said there was no need to spend
money on such foolishness, so I spent all my free time studying and I had a
high grade point average. In fact I had a perfect SAT score and that got me
admitted to a prestigious east coast college (As a lark I had submitted my
application). My mother said let's send him, it will give him a good start in
life. My father said air fare from the west coast (where I lived) to the east
coast costs money. Let him hitch hike. My mother had put away money in the
cookie jar for a rainy day so I got to take the red eye flight to the east
coast. Because of my perfect SAT score and my straight A average I got a one
hundred percent scholarship. My dad thought I should go to a local community
college and live home, that way we could save some money, but my mom convinced
him he should let me go, for a year anyway.

Well, it was a huge university. I'm from a small west coast town, and this
university enrolled more students than my small town had people. My third day
in the university I had my Psychology 101 class, and it was a huge class.
Almost everyone took Psychology 101, it was a required subject for most
majors. The class was so big it met in an auditorium lecture hall. I got there
early because I wanted a good seat. The students sat in alternate seats, and
two seats over from me on my left this girl comes in and sits down. Luckily
she didn't pick the seat to my right as I think I would have been embarrassed
if she tried to get by me. I'm sure her legs would have brushed up against my
knees as she didn't look like a lightweight. Her legs looked fairly thick as
she moved into my aisle and her calves were substantial. Pretty muscular. I'm
thinking maybe she's some kind of athlete. She glances over my way, gives me a
sweet smile, and then opens her text book. I felt like my face was blushing
since I'm not used to pretty girls smiling at me. I tried to look her over out
of the corner of my eye but I couldn't see much.

The class starts to fill up and pretty soon almost every seat is occupied. The
girl moves over into the seat next to me to make room for another student. She
gives me another smile as she sits down next to me and I can see now that she
is quite pretty. She says "Hello, my name is Erika. Is this your first year at
this university?"

I replied "Yes, this is my third day here. My name is Dan."

"Hi, Dan," Erika says. "I'm from Maine. Where you from?"

"Oh, I'm from California. Small town in the central valley," and I name it.

"Nope, never heard of it," she giggles, and she's got this sweet giggle, kind
of lilting, with happy undertones to it. I have to see more of this girl. I
pretend to look around the lecture hall, and out of the corner of my eye I can
see that she is amazingly pretty, kind of a wholesome outdoor look, with a
substantial bosom that's sticking out pretty far in front of her, and as I
glance at her thighs I see that the short skirt she's wearing is starting to
ride up toward her hips as she sits in the seat and she's showing some pretty
thick thighs. I'm beginning to feel some reaction in my crotch, and that's
something new for me since I don't have much experience with girls. Erika
opens up her psych text book again and starts to thumb through it, and
casually sets her forearm on the seat arm where I am already resting my
forearm and kind of pushes against my arm. Well, I was there first. I push
back hard. She notices. Without much effort she pushes my arm off the armrest
and takes possession of it.

So I say to her, "What are you, one of those women libbers?"

Erika says, "I have just as much right to the armrest as you do."

Well, we had a back and forth dialog. I'm looking at her arm and it looks
pretty beefy, at least in comparison to my skinny arm. Remember, I'm a
student, I never played any sports. So I say to her, "Looks like you've got a
pretty strong arm, I can't budge you."

"Want to feel?" she asks.

So I reach over and put my left arm on the back of her right arm that's
sitting on the arm rest and I squeeze. "Holy shit," I mumble. I may have led a
sheltered life but I learned to swear listening to my father. That arm is
about the hardest thing I ever felt. So I reach my right hand around and it
joins my left hand and together I try to encircle her bicep. I can't believe
it - not only is what I'm feeling amazingly hard but my two hands don't get
fully around it. My mouth starts making funny noises and now my crotch is
really having a reaction, and Erika is giggling her lilting giggle.

"OK, now it's your turn," she giggles, and before I can object she's wrapped
the fingers of her right hand fully around my left bicep. "Wow, you must have
led a sheltered life," she says.

"Hey, I'm a student, straight A's, perfect SAT. What are you? Some kind of
athlete?"

"Nope," Erika says.

"G'wan," I say, "you don't get biceps like that sitting on your ass."

"No sports," she says, "but I have wrestled a cow or a steer or two helping my
mom out around the farm in Maine. Mom got widowed at a very young age and when
I was just a kid I was the only one on the farm to help out. I'm not a
stranger to hard work, not like some people I know," she snickered.

"Well, my dad is an office worker and my mom is a stay-at-home mom, so I just
naturally hit the books."

"Hey, I'm not stupid," Erika said, "or I wouldn't have been admitted to this
university. Mom said I deserved to go, I helped make the farm the success it
is today. We've got help now, we can afford it, and we can afford the tuition
here. Mom says 'Get smart, honey, some day you're going to have to be the boss
of this farm.'"

"I never minded hard work," Erika said. "I grew up being outdoors. Helped me
build this bicep," and here she tensed her right upper arm and the bicep grew
even harder and bigger, and my fingers spread apart even more, and she threw
back her shoulders, sat up straight in her seat, took a deep breath and
inflated her chest, and her boobs bounced off the head of the guy sitting in
the seat in front of her.

"Sorry," she mumbled, as the guy turned around to see what had hit him in the
back of the head.

"Showoff," I said, and we both started laughing in unison and we almost
couldn't stop. I, who usually felt ill at ease around girls, found that I
could carry on a decent conversation and laugh and joke with this girl. I was
enthralled.

So Erika says, "You seem like a good guy, I guess I'll give you back half of
this armrest. I put my arm back up on the armrest and Erika kept hers there
and grabbed onto my fingers and held onto my hand through the entire Psych 101
lecture. Let me tell you, I was in seventh heaven. Except when she got intense
over the lecture and absentmindedly started squeezing my fingers. Man, did
that hurt! I leaned over toward her right ear and I'm whispering, "Ouch!
Ouch!"

"Oh," she whispers back, "I'm so sorry - am I hurting you?"

"You don't know your own strength," I say. "I think you've broken all five of
my fingers!"

"Sorry," Erika says, "I'll kiss them and make them feel better."

Well, hell, I've never even been out on a date with a girl before and here
this gorgeous, interesting girl is kissing my fingers and even throwing in a
lick or two with her tongue. I know she's playing, it's just part of her
personality, but still, for a guy who's having his first experience with a
charming, funny, beautiful girl it's incredibly erotic. My penis lets go with
a gusher and thank goodness my psych book is big enough to cover things up.
For the rest of the lecture I'm not listening to the lecturer, I'm thinking
about my experience with Erika. Then I hear the lecturer say, "That's all for
today. Read the first two chapters in the book and I'll discuss them with you
at next week's lecture." I'm glad that's over, now I can go back to my dorm
room and change out of my soiled pants.

So I glance over at Erika, she's not moving. Hell, I can't get by her without
her seeing my big wet spot. I look at her again, and she's looking at me with
a perplexed look so I turn to the first page of my Psych book and pretend I'm
reading intently. Finally she says, "Did you find the lecture interesting?"

"Yes," I say, "he's a good lecturer."

"Would you like to discuss it over a cup of coffee?" Erika asks.

What do I do now? If I go for coffee with her she's sure to see my big wet
spot at my crotch and how do I explain that away? If I don't go with her I'm
missing an opportunity to maybe get to know one of the prettiest girls on
campus. "No, I've got a free period next period so I think I'll just sit here
and read up on the psychology assignment." God, am I a dufus.

"OK," she says. She looks disappointed. "See you next time." Yeah, fat chance.
With maybe five hundred kids in this Psych 101 class what are the odds she's
going to sit next to me again?

So a week later I get to the Psych class early. Maybe I'll spot Erika and
maybe I can arrange to run into her by "accident."

So who's moving into the chair aisle I'm sitting in but Erika, a big smile on
her face, and she sits down next to me. "Hi, I've been looking all over campus
for you. I was wondering if your fingers were OK after I broke them?"

"Well, you didn't really break them, but they were sore for a while," I said.
"But your kissing them made them all well."

"Well, that was fun. I might want to be a nurse. Maybe I'll break them again
so I can practice making the patient well," she giggled.

My immediate reaction was to withdraw my hand from the armrest but she was too
quick for me. "Oh no you don't!" Erika said, and she dragged my left arm back
onto the armrest where she held my fingers in an inescapable grip. "Let me
know when they hurt enough and I'll give them a kiss or two and make them
better, and maybe even a lick or two," she giggled.

Before I could think of something witty to say here comes the professor to
begin his lecture. True to her word Erika gives the fingers of my left hand a
hurt and when she thinks I've suffered enough she raises my fingers to her
mouth and starts kissing and licking. What is it with this girl? I mean I'm a
pretty good looking guy, but I don't really have any social skills, never
having dated in high school; can't she tell? I'm squirming in my seat because
of her powerful grip and I'm trying to push her right hand off the armrest and
I'm pushing on her forearm and her bicep and it hasn't gotten any smaller, and
I realize I wasn't imagining things.

"I've been working out," she whispers in my left ear. "They've got a lovely
gym here. They have equipment I've never even seen before. Of course I have to
use the men's gym, but I got special permission. They couldn't say no after I
showed them I could bench press four hundred fifty pounds. That's more than
anyone on the football team, even the guards and tackles," she giggled. "I
offered to spot them if they let me use the men's gym. I gained one-half inch
on my biceps in just one week, and a whole inch on my thighs. Thirty-four
inches now, I need to get bigger pants!" she laughed. Not out loud of course,
but thank goodness the professor was ending his lecture as I wasn't sure how
long it would be before he wanted to know what was so funny in the twelfth
row, center section.

"All right," he says. "Here is your assignment for our class meeting next
week. What is a man? Is he a bunch of cells? Maybe a few billion? Is that all
there is to a man? Or does he need something else to be called a man? What
else does he need? We'll discuss that next week. See you then."

Well, Erika looks at me, and I look at her, a perplexed look on both our
faces. "Maybe we ought to have that coffee now," she says. "I don't think this
course is going to be as easy as I thought it was."

I'm going to get a second chance. "You're on," I say. "A nice hot cup of
coffee ought to clear the cobwebs out of my brain."

So we go to the Student Union and get our coffees and get into a corner and
decide what makes a man. We're laughing and giggling and having a great time.
Erika says what distinguishes a man is that he's horny all the time. "Oh, I
say, and women aren't?" By now she's got my fingers surrounded and she's
bending them back toward my wrist and I'm saying "You're going to have to lick
them and kiss them if you bend them any more and this time as an added penalty
you'll have to suck them too!" And she can't stop giggling and laughing and
she says "Admit it! The best description of what a man is is that he is a
collection of horny cells!"

So by now with Erika putting the pressure on my fingers they're really
beginning to hurt and I give up. "All right! All right!" I say. "Man is a
collection of horny cells - provoked by a woman!" I was going to get the last
word.

She can't stop laughing. For answer she starts laughing harder and starts
kissing and licking my fingers and then she puts all five fingers of my right
hand in her mouth and starts sucking. This girl has got talent! I, who have
never had a blow job in my life, am starting to imagine what it would be like.
We're both laughing and giggling so hard we're starting to attract the
attention of the other students sitting in the coffee room. They're talking
and we're laughing out loud, and people are stopping their conversations to
look at us, the gorgeous, stacked girl with a guy's fingers in her mouth, and
Erika is starting to blush. Finally she takes my fingers out of her mouth and
she says, "Look, there's an awful lot of stuff to digest in this psych course
and I'd really like to start off my college career with one A grade anyway.
Why don't we study together? I've got a nice apartment off campus. I don't
have a roommate so it will be nice and quiet for studying. I'll even cook us
dinner if you behave yourself," she giggled. "I'm a good cook. My mama taught
me. I make a delicious finger stew," she laughs. I hoped she was kidding.

So we started meeting in her apartment and true to her word she was a good
cook and I really appreciated having a home cooked meal once or twice a week,
and we never had finger stew. There was never any fooling around, mainly
because I didn't know how to start it, and anyway in our small talk she would
tell me she was going out with this football player or that football player,
but I sure enjoyed watching Erika move around in the kitchen, and I would
help, of course. She kept up with her gym work and spotting the football
players, and it looked to me like every week she would grow a little here and
a little there. She always wore provocative clothing - well, she was an
eighteen year old freshman college girl, what would you expect? Her blouses
seemed one (or two) sizes too small for her, and her skirts ended above her
knees - way above her knees. I commented once about it to her.

"You seem to be gaining a little weight," I said.

"Yes, I am," she answered, "but it's all muscle. You should see the assortment
of equipment they have in the men's gym. Every time I touch something I seem
to put on a half-inch of muscle. My calves are twenty-two inches now, and my
thighs are thirty-four inches,"she laughed. "The football coach says if I
don't lay off using the equipment he's going to start me at running back in a
week or two," she giggled. "I think he might be serious. He wasn't smiling
when he said it. I'm bench pressing five hundred twenty-five pounds now, and
there isn't a guy on the football team who can do that.

The coach says I look phenomenal. Do you think I look phenomenal, Dan?" And
here Erika stuck out a leg, tensed her calf and her thigh muscles, flexed the
biceps in both arms and took a deep breath and inflated her chest. I came
right then and there.

This big wet spot started spreading on my pants at the crotch. Erika couldn't
help but notice. She looked shocked. "Dan!" she exclaimed. "You've proved my
point! Man is nothing but a collection of horny protoplasm!" And she started
laughing uncontrollably.

Well, I started blushing. "Look, can you blame me?" I asked. "You are
phenomenal. You're so pretty. You have a phenomenal body. You're smart. I can
talk to you like I've never been able to talk to a girl before! There! I've
said it! I'll leave now!" I turned and headed for the door.

"Oh no you don't!" I heard Erika say behind me. All of a sudden I felt myself
being scooped up and Erika was holding me in her arms. "I've cooked us a nice
dinner and you're not leaving until you eat!" She carried me into the dining
room and plopped me into a chair. "Sit!" she commanded.

Well, I didn't have to be a genius to understand that this girl could
overpower me at any time, and that when she said "Sit!" I should sit if I
didn't want any trouble. I mean, I had seen her biceps flexed, and while my
biceps were practically non-existent this girl had biceps the envy of the
football team! If I had to guess I'd say twenty-four inches, maybe twenty-six
inches. I made a mental note to ask her sometime.

I sat in my dining room chair watching Erika move around in the kitchen,
humming little songs to herself as she moved around putting dinner together.
Her skirt was flying, her calves were flexing as she stood on tiptoe to reach
dishes up in the cabinet, and my erection again pressing against my pants,
ready to come again, told me that maybe Erika was right after all, maybe man
is nothing but a collection of horny protoplasm.

I have to give Erika credit. She is one hell of a cook. I helped to do the
dishes after we finished eating, and then we went to the living room to
discuss this weeks psychology topic, the differences in human traits. Erika
said, "We tend to accept those who are most like us. Children want to play
with children. Short people want to dance with short people. Normal social
adjustments rule out the extremes, and those people who are the extremes -
extremely tall, extremely short, extremely brilliant, extremely strong,
extremely muscular, they have a problem finding a comfortable place in
society. You may wonder why we struck up a friendship. You accepted me as I
am. Obviously you have become aware that I am extremely strong and extremely
muscular. I can't help it. Maybe I'm some kind of a freak of nature. And yet
you accept me. We talk, we laugh, you know I'm not your normal kind of woman,
I could destroy you with one hand tied behind my back. You appreciate me for
who I am. You don't make crude advances towards me. The football team members
ask me out. I go because I want companionship. There isn't a one of them who
hasn't tried to get very physical with me from the very start. Not all the
black eyes that the football team is sporting this semester come from the
football games," she giggled.

"I was wondering," I said. "I think I mentioned to you before that I've always
had a problem with male-female relationships, and yet with you I also feel
that I can be myself, that you don't judge me. I can be smarter, I can be
dumber, I can be taller, I can be weaker or less muscular. You accept me for
who I am."

"Well, this psychology class has taught me a lot about who I am. We have to
talk about it more when you come back from the Thanksgiving week break," Erika
said.

"Oh, I'm not going home for Thanksgiving," I said. "My dad says it's a waste
of money to fly home for a week just to eat turkey, so I'm staying on campus,"
I said, probably with a forlorn note to my voice.

Erika looked at me, and it seemed to me she had a rather sad and compassionate
look on her beautiful face. Suddenly she reaches out and with little effort
she pulls me bodily onto her lap. "No! You're not staying here! All alone!
You're coming home with me!"

I realized her kindness and generosity, and her soul. She didn't want someone
who was practically a stranger to her to suffer the rejection that she could
see I was feeling. On impulse, sitting there on her lap, I threw my hands
around her neck and gave her a big kiss. What surprised me was she kissed me
back. Me! A guy who never kissed a girl before was experiencing his first kiss
with one of the most beautiful girls on campus! One of the prettiest girls I
had ever seen! So what if it was me sitting on her lap and not the other way
around? So what if she had big muscles? My hands were running up and down her
upper arms as her biceps and triceps expanded with the effort involved in
pressing me tightly into her bosom. So tightly that I finally had to croak out
"Erika...I'm having trouble breathing!"

Her reply: A giggle, and "Gee, I guess I'll have to give you artificial
respiration!" And she stuck her tongue into my mouth and blew air in and
sucked air out! If I were going to die right here what a nice way to go!

Well, we finally reached a nice balance. Her tongue in my mouth, my hands on
her swelling biceps, then roaming over her extremely broad shoulders, feeling
the swelling of her deltoids and her trapezius, her heavily muscled quadriceps
as they moved under my ass as Erika held me firmly in place on her lap. I
realized that I wasn't going any place until she finished with me.

"Honey," she said, "you're coming home with me for Thanksgiving, but before we
do that you're coming upstairs with me because I've been observing that big
thing in your pants all night, and I may be right that man is nothing but
horny protoplasm, but damn, you're sitting on the lap of a woman who is also
nothing but horny protoplasm, and I'm about to prove it to you!" And she did.
All night long. And well into the next day. We even missed our Psychology 101
class meeting.

To be continued in Part Two.