Joe & Friends_1_Cancerfree For 62 Mo.

Freya Reynalda Idyl-Gliese was a survivor of several close calls. She was born in the United States, the daughter of two foreigners (to the US as well as each other’s home country). Her father was Scandinavian and her mother was a mix of mostly south and Central American tribes who were there millennia before Cortez and Columbus and a small percentage Hispanic. She survived a hurricane that hit the village her mother was born in as herself, her siblings and her parents were visiting. She survived encounters with bears and moose when she wondered off while visiting the village north of the Arctic circle that her father was born in. The most anxious brush with death wasn’t anything nature threw at her from outside her skin. It was summed up in two medical terms: “breast cancer”, and “total mastectomy, right”. The hurricane, wildlife encounters gone potentially deadly and the big C all happened before she turned 14.

Freya was now as fully developed as she’d ever be. She was 5′ 10″ with some padding just enough to give her a nice Shakira inspired ass and make her ribs imperceptible to the naked eye and a soft touch. She was debating law school or advertising and was a stellar student in all areas but math and the physical sciences. She had only one breast and that was a B cup. Everything dragging down her self-image was the negative aspects of surviving breast cancer at age 13 (the complete lack of dating experience, no right tit, etc.).

Freya wanted a lover, unfortunately she couldn’t get past how her reflection was ‘different’ and the closest thing to a lover was her initials (F.R.I.G.). She was pissed at the whole of her life’s events from birth to 18 years 7 months. She had met a computer geek named Joe. Freya was a fabulous student when it came to most subjects but Mathematics at the Trig and Algebra level and beyond became totally unintelligible. Joe was the top programmer in overall skills and coming up with sweet, slick solutions to nerdy dilemmas (and he did even better in Math than he was in computer classes).

Joe was the one who encouraged and tutored her over her first semester. Joe wasn’t a total virgin, but he had just two sex sessions. Joe asked her out more than once, but never forced her to expand their relationship.

Shortly after her second semester and his fifth semester began, Joe handed her an invitation to his 18th birthday party. She was a bit confused, but she thought he had looked younger than 18 the whole time she knew him and she figured he was nerdy enough and overzealous to leave high school ASA Fucking P, so skipping a grade or two wasn’t too strange. She attended the party: it was a who’s who of the computer science and mathematics department (even every math and computer professor he ever had a class with were present). She was one of four women present and she was a bit disheartened that she wasn’t hit on by anyone except a curvaceous Indian chick with a Mumbai accent (Krishna Neyru) and a left hand that kept finding her ass as she spoke the ludest comments about what she wanted her lips to do to Freya and vice versa. After that started, Freya tended to not exactly cling, but stay near Joe no matter what. After the party she told Joe about the “Bali-wood starlet look-alike” who tried to get her to switch to the all girl’s team.

Joe then said something that Freya thought was odd, “You are not a lesbian?”

“What gave you the perception I was a carpet munching dyke?” Freya wasn’t too careful about her volume, and this was the moment Krishna walked in to get her scarf. Freya noticed this and spoke to her directly, “Look, I don’t have a kill-them-all attitude about homosexuals, but that said, hearing intimate details about lesbian sex is more that a little unsettling. I would have told you then, but it was all I could do to not say, ‘hands off dyke’ in a loud voice.”

Krishna slinked out, not having any idea how to respond.

Joe sighed, “To answer your questions, there were two or three things I noticed: first one I noticed was you turned me down every time I tried to ask you out; two you turned down every guy that I’ve noticed hit on you. Third you had no shyness hugging or kissing on the cheeks several women:” Joe rattled off the names of the ten women on campus. He knew the names but she knew each of those women well enough to recite their family trees back one or two generations (having met 40% of those relatives) plus she knew why each of them broke up with every boyfriend they had since she met each.

“I am heterosexual in a way… frustrated, a virgin, but at the core a heterosexual who’s never had sex with anyone of any gender.”

“My sympathies.” Joe hugged her. “By your choice of words, you’d like to not be a virgin.”

“Yes.” She knew it was a statement, but treated it like a question anyway.

“You’ve got so much to offer, you’re witty, you’ve well read, you’re savvy in almost every subject that doesn’t involve multivariable calculus, Boyle’s gas laws, integrated circuits or Einstein’s theory of relativity… and of course, you’ve got one fucking hot body.” Joe said still holding her.

“Look at my chest, does it really look hot?”

“Yes. Over the last 4 school-months, I’ve noticed that you have padding in your right bra cup, and hugging you just now I’ve noticed what seems ever more padding… given you’re a Best-sized cup, that means you likely had something happen to you and you think you’ll never be seen as beautiful.”

“Yes.”

“The cancer you survived…” Joe then used medical terms Freya had never heard before and ended the sentence with question inflection.

“No, the type I had was…” and spoke 3 to 8 words medicalese to describe the particular form breast cancer she had.

“You know when I suspected the padding in just one cup of your bra was related to a lumpectomy or mastectomy I looked up all the things that could cause a doctor to recommend that. After applying Occam’s razor to the possibilities, I read about 200 pages worth of data on breast cancer. And that did include post op images, two situations where the butchery of the surgery resulted in malpractice suits and one surgeon’s license cut up as well as–”

“Shut up!” Freya growled sharply, but didn’t yell. “I didn’t mean to be that mean. Different subject… I’d love to hear about a different subject.”

“Mardi Gras is next month… the 8th. Would you like to go with me?”

“What?”

“I’ve reserved a room with two double beds. I had planned to share expenses with a friend, but no one’s willing. I have already paid for the room last father’s day actually. The travel website I used was great about giving this deep discount for 6+ months ahead of time.”

“And how were you planning to get there?”

“My car… it’s a 2003 Prius… yea, it’s more of a nerd magnet than a chick magnet and it’ll be in my possession of 2 years this ides of March but it’ll take all of 3 gallons of unleaded to get there, almost certainly less.”

“What were you planning to do?… assuming we go.”

“See some parades, try some of the local drinks, you know touristy shit.”

Freya gave him a look that he and his conscience recognized as ‘you haven’t fully answered the question, yet’

Joe continued, “And no, I don’t expect you to put out. Look, I find you very attractive both mentally and physically. We’ve been friends since you first came on campus practically. If you want me as a friend and friend alone, I only ask that you set me up with an intelligent friend of yours who doesn’t deserve to be hurt again, who’s both intelligent and who doesn’t mind showing it to people her intelligence doesn’t threaten.”

“It’s almost midnight… we won’t have much time either of our dorm rooms.”

“Yea… we could always drive along the highway… one that passes on the edge of campus… just between here and the where the highway intersect with the interstate, there’s about 15 hotels… there’s got to be a few that cost less than 80 a night.”

“We have school tomorrow.”

“What’s your early class?”

“History… 9:30 a.m.”

“Mine’s physics with calculus II, lecture at 11 a.m… The lab’s Tuesdays at 8 a.m. and tonight is wednesday 13 January.”

She thought about postponing until Friday night, but she didn’t want to be a virgin and didn’t want to give either of him or more to the point herself a chance to chicken out (or in her case chicken out again). “Let do each other.” She grabbed his ass and French kissed him. He accepted her advance. Neither had ever French kissed before and both had a significant lick tide on their cheeks.

Professor Nick Sabin walked in because he noticed the light on. Prof. Sabin said 3 words to them, “Get a room.” Prof. Sabin constantly got teased because his name sounded like the coach at LSU that jumped ship for Miami, and this is also the genesis of his nickname.

“We’re planning to do that, presently, Coach.” Joe spoke playfully.

“You kids run along… be teenagers. Brenda and I will clean this place off.”

“Before or after…” Joe stopped in mid sentence because he heard boots that sounded something like a size 9 men’s boot with a mid-100’s pound person in them. Professor Brenda Jackson was not a small woman, but a phenom of mathematician in a full figured soul sista’s body (not BBW by any stretch of the imagination but as Sir Mix-a-lot rapped, “red beans and rice didn’t miss her.”).

Joe smiled at his multivariable calculus prof (all 161 pounds of her wearing her favorite shoes with ankle support): a brand of urban hiking boots, she was technically a women’s size 11 but with boots, especially, men’s size 9W fit her better. Joe said, “Good evening, Professora… till 8 a.m. Friday.”

“Anyone else in the building?”

“Yes, Coach.”

“Nick?”

“Correct, Nick and us that’s it. have a nice night.”

“I should. You too.”

Joe and Freya walked out hand in hand. As they turned to face the elevator doors, both noticed Prof. Jackson was holding her shirt over her should by it’s collar with just one finger, both got a profile glimpse of her naked single-D right tit. After the doors close, Joe said, “It’s an open secret that the pair of them have sex; Coach and Professora Jackson.”