My First Beer With A Coed

Friday nights after our football game, Breeland spends the night with her friend Candice. One of my mates drops me off at the house.

Candice's house contains a huge basement and older parents, who were usually in bed by 9 pm. It's just the four of us. Candy and her boyfriend frequently have sex, while Bree and I had only made love once on her birthday.

The horny couple escapes to the back bedroom. My Love and I have the entire basement family room to ourselves.

We stretch out on the couch.

"Baby, will you wub my feet?" Bree asked.

"Sure, you wascally wabbit."

"Yay, I will get the lotion. Let's listen to some music. Is Mozart Ok?"

"Of course beautiful." (I secretly hate Mozart, he's such a pussy. I'm a Beethoven kind of guy.)

"Yay, I wuv you."

My Love settles in with her feet on my lap. I'm massaging her feet. Bree's eyes are closed, listening to Mozart.

"Oh, my goodness, you are so good at that. Don't you just love him?"

"Who?"

"Mozart's music, it's so sweet and calming."

"Yeah, but you know who I prefer."

"Yes, I know, Beethoven. He is like the dark mean angry Kincaid on the football field. Mad at the world."

"Breeland, the man was a genius. I don't think your music would be so cheerful if you couldn't hear the masterpieces you produce."

"Hey Kincaid, could you bring back my sweet, sensitive, sexy Timmy?"

"Nice alliteration Bree."

She straddles my lap.

"There's the tone of voice I love. Leave that mean old Beethoven fella on the ball field."

She offers her sweet lips. I never tire of tasting her tongue. Suddenly, Bree abruptly stops with an epiphany.

"Oh gosh, I just remembered, they've got beer in the fridge. Aren't you thirsty? All this necking has a girl parched."

Giggling at herself.

Bree had already drunk beer at the beach with her Sissy. She jumps off my lap and takes my hand.

"Well, I don't like beer. I tried a drink once. My uncle Philip gave it to me when we visited my stepdad's family in Valdese."

"Come on."

She is pulling me to the bar area that has a fridge.

"They brought a 12 pack of Miller High Life. You were just a kid then. Now you are my big strong Romeo. I promise it won't hurt. Here I will drink some first."

She takes out a couple of bottles.

"Open please," she says.

I open her beer, she drinks. I watch her throat move. My God, her neck is so sexy, I want to bite and suck it. Then she does something that gives me second-hand embarrassment.

This sweet, delicate flower burps as loud and long as a 400 lb truck driver.

"Excuse me," she said.

"Breland James!"

She giggles.

"Sweetie, beer makes you burp. Okay, your turn."

I love everything about her. I will drink cyanide for my heart. This is the genesis of a beautiful coed, convincing me to do something against my better judgment.

But I digress.

I drink and down the entire 12 ounce beer.

"Wow, you are such a stud."

We both finished two beers. I feel a little dizzy, but not off balance. I hear a buzzing sound in my head. It was my first buzz.

I take a seat, watching my soul dance. Her ballet moves to Mozart's Requiem in D minor, awe-inspiring.

I had watched her dance at her Granny's under a pale moonlight, to Chopin in my head.

Breeland's movements, actually hearing Mozart, so elegant, so graceful. The stirring sounds. Okay, I take back my earlier comments about him. The music ends. She bows.

I stand clapping.

"Bravo, bravo."

She curtseys, walks to the stereo, turns over the cassette. Bree holds out her hand. I take it and we slow dance.

"How do you feel?" My heart asked.

"Now that I have you in my arms, great." I reply.

"You make me so happy," she says, slurring her words.

"I wish my parents could meet you, showing them and the rest of the world how much we love each other."

"Maybe one day when people will not make such a big deal about race. Tonight, let's pretend we live in a colorblind society."

FINAL THOUGHT

Breeland and I spend the rest of the evening kissing and cuddling in our unrealistic colorless world.