My eyes roam over you, taking in your attractive figure, your hair, your eyes, your smile. Our fingers never stop touching, playing with each other.We were sharing that place, two students trying to stretch their pitiful bank accounts by sharing everything. For two years we went nonstop. We each put in relentless effort, never looking up from our studies, falling asleep exhausted every night. No vacation or social life for either of us. Until one night when I looked up from my book, thinking you had suddenly become very quiet and still. I looked up, thinking maybe you didn't feel well. You were looking at me, and little tears were gathering in your eyes and rolling away down your cheeks."Christine, what is it? Whats the matter?" I reached across our little table where we ate and studied together, taking your fingers in my hand. You started to cry and in between your sobs you told me why."I was reading and looked up to relieve my eyes and I thought to myself that the eyedoctors say. Just get used to watching my ass every time we race, because now you realize who the real ‘wimp’ is.’ Finished with his jabs at Steve’s manhood, Dycke put on a short burst of speed, just enough, to join Desiree, at the point position. Steve saw red. His body mightnot have been willing but he made up his mind. He was not going to quit this race. He was going to finish it, even if he had to crawl to do it. He could not stand to look at Dycke’s ass. The thought of losing to Dycke, again, in a race, drove him crazy. It drove him forward, ever forward. His legs moved. His arms moved, and he kept moving forward, ever forward. His chronometer now showed mile twelve, five thousand two hundred and eighty feet to go, approximately thirteen hundred and twenty steps. Each step was an agony unto itself. Each movement was in the footsteps of his nemesis, Dycke Schneider, who was ten feet in front of him and nothing he could do was going to close that gap. All of a sudden, Steve stumbled and lost.
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