Summer time meant several things for 21 year-olds. Plenty of time to learn what alcohol mixes together well and what doesn’t. Find out how boring a part-time job can be. And of course, the quest for booty.
Of course, from my side of things, finding a female who was of legal age, attractive to me, and willing was a quest that was never a success. Staying in a college town during summer was also a bad way to meet a girl. But I figured if I was going to pay an insane amount for one-fourth of an apartment, I should stay in the apartment and live out the money well for every month I paid for.
I needed a vacation, I guess, but not from the town. From its everyday basic life. And my friend Rachel was just the right person to help me through this time. She needed time away from home; I needed time away from my life. We met somewhere in the middle for a weekend at my apartment.
She arrived Friday afternoon with way too many changes of clothes, but she’s a girl after all. I hadn’t actually seen Rachel in several months. The last time I saw her, she was telling me about how first (and she reminds me every time I bring it up on AIM that it’s her only and last) experience in girl-on-girl action. As she told me that story, her hand had disappeared under the table, and with her subtle movements, it was pretty clear where her hand was and when she left for the restroom and I could hear her moans, it was even more evident that she needed to relieve some tension, which, of course, made me have to relieve some tension.
Oh, memories.
Rachel gets more and more beautiful with each time we don’t see each other for awhile. And having her around had already brightened my spirits.
“So, this is the famous 1270J,” she observed. “I expected more.”
I chuckled. “I know, I know. It’s over hyped.”
“Tell me. This couch,” she laid down stomach-first. As she did, her shirt rode up a little, giving him a great view of her tattoo on her lower back, not to mention the hint of a white pair of panties. “Ever fucked on it?”
She said it with such an ordinary voice that you would have thought she asked if I had ever sat on the couch.
“Actually, no.”
“Really?” She rolled over. “Disappointing.”
I shrugged. “I haven’t been able to fuck on all the furniture just yet, but I’m getting around to it.”
“Sure, sure.” She smiled.
“Question is...where would we fuck?” I asked, eyebrows rising suggestively.
She grinned. “Well, you know me. Never one to be boring. How about your roommates’ beds? All of them. Hell, how about on your dinner table. My khakis slide down far enough for you to be able to move my panties out of the way and get inside of me. I think that would make a great visual every time you sit down to eat there. Hell, I might even let you have some desert.”
I nodded at her and looked over the table. “You do realize I can be a messy eater when I’m hungry, right? I get stuff all over my face.”
“That’s just fine in my book.”
The way she was looking at me made me flashback to my kitchen months ago, the look of lust in her eyes as she told me about her roommate. But she was joking about us this time.
“Ya know, Tommy, I do love the banter, but I really need a shower.”
“Yeah, you do.”
She threw a pillow at me, which I caught. “Careful. I know several ways to kick your ass.”
I threw the pillow back at her. “Oh, do you?” I leaped at her almost, sliding over her body. My hands went to her sides and started to tickle her. I felt her bridge up, squirming to get away from my active hands, her breasts meshing against my chest and her body sliding against mine. Yeah, it had been awhile since I felt a woman brush against me, even so innocently.
“Okay, I give,” she said through laughter. I stopped, though my hands stayed at her sides. I looked down at her and for a moment, it also seemed like we were going to kiss.
“Don’t look at me like I’m Julia Roberts and this is a bad movie,” she commented, grinning.
I tickled her a little more before rising from her body. She looked up at me with a little confusion before reaching out her hand. I took it and pulled her to her feet. She thanked me and grabbed her suitcase. She opened it and I was privy to a wide selection of a Victoria’s Secret store on the go.
“Wow…”
“What, Tommy? Never seen a thong before?” She grabbed it and stretched it out by the sides.
“No, just,” I began, trying to center my thoughts. “Well, one would think, Rachel, that you’re more than prepared to look your lingerie best if someone was going to see.”
She smirked a response at me.
“Just saying, ya know, that you have more than enough of a selection here. Like maybe you want to be prepared for any mood that strikes you.”
“Well,” she said. “We were going to order pizza and I have a thing for fat middle-age guys in uniform.”
“I’ll see sure to keep that in mind,” I replied, my eyes dropping to her collection again.