Tracy's Journey

We made love several more times that first night, and we both could barely walk the next day. A couple of weeks later, Tracy moved out of her dorm room and into my apartment. As we settled into cohabitation, Tracy's libido proved to be every bit as alive as it was at first. We must have fucked and/or made love (there is a difference) three or four times a day – at any time of the day when we were both home. That said, we made it a point to keep up with our studies, and if anything our grades improved with our joy at being together.

My one frustration was that Tracy kept wearing very modest clothes – even when it was just the two of us at home – unless we were having sex. That is not to say Tracy was a prude when it came to showing skin – just her's. In fact, she proved herself to be quite the voyeur. She made no bones about the fact that she wanted me to wear as little as possible, and preferably nothing. When we were out in warm weather, she would insist that I take my shirt off, and keep it off until we went somewhere it was required. Whenever we were home, she begged me to go nude. None of these requests bothered me because I've always been comfortable with showing my body, but whenever I asked her to reciprocate, she refused. I explained to Tracy that I liked looking at her body as much as she did mine, and that I thought it was spectacular – which it was (and is). She explained that she had "developed" fairly early and had been teased quite a bit as a kid. That, combined with the fact that her parents were fairly prudish, made her very shy about her body – at least until there was sex in the offing.

After a few weeks of parading around the apartment nude for her (and, admittedly, my) entertainment, I finally played on this motivation to change the rules at home. I informed her that if she wanted me to go around nude, and wanted sex whenever she asked for it, she had to lose her clothes when she came in the door as well. She reluctantly agreed.

The first day this new rule went into effect, Tracy had a late-afternoon class. I made sure I was home and undressed before she got back. I set out a single red rose and a glass of wine for her on the table next to the door. When she got home, I made a point of casually leaning against a bookcase on the far side of the room. She came in, dropped her backpack, saw the rose, wine and me (in that order) and started to cross the room to give me a kiss.

"Uh-uh." I said. "Remember the rules ..."

Her smile faded a little, and she bid her lip nervously, but she retreated to the door, and slowly undressed with her back to me. She turned around, covering her breasts with her arm.

"Drop your hands," I commanded, and she complied. "Now, stay there and have a sip of wine so I can look at you."

As she downed her wine fairly quickly, I made a point of ogling every part of her body while thinking about what we would do together later. This had the effect I intended of bringing my cock to life without my actually touching it, and soon it was rock hard.

"See what looking at you does to me?" I asked.

"I do," she said, a smile creeping back to her lips. She came over and kissed me while grinding her hips against my hard-on. As difficult as it was, I resisted her.

"Let's fix dinner first," I said and moved over to the kitchen area.

"I want cum for dinner," she pouted.

"That's desert. Now, come help me get this ready."

I could tell that Tracy was self-conscious and tense as she started gathering things to make a salad, while I seasoned some chicken breasts and put them in to bake. Gradually, however, (and with the help of a second glass of wine) Tracy started to relax, and I was able to enjoy the sight of her toned, nude body moving gracefully around the kitchen. Of course, that view kept me in a semi-aroused state, and I made a point of brushing my cock against Tracy's skin whenever we moved near each other. At one point, she needed help getting a bowl down from one of the higher cabinets. I came up behind her and let my cock rest between her ass cheeks as I reached over her head to get the bowl. She moaned a little and pushed her rear end back against me. When I stepped back after retrieving the bowl, Tracy backed up with me and kept her ass grinding into my erection. My resolve to wait until after dinner faded, and I simply slid my cock down her ass and into her (we had long-since dispensed with condoms in favor of other forms of birth control). She was as wet as I had ever felt her, and I was buried in her to the hilt in one stroke.

"Yessss, thank you," she moaned as she put her elbows on the counter and I started pounding her from behind. Within minutes we were both experiencing amazing climaxes. As we caught our breath, Tracy said, "I think I'm going to like keeping a naked house with you!"

From that point on, Tracy was just as enthusiastic as I about being naked when we were home alone, but she remained reticent about showing much skin outside our apartment. When we went out, she continued her request that I not wear a shirt, but my requests that she wear short skirts or midriff-baring tops went unrequited. When we went to the beach at a local lake, she eschewed the string bikinis most of her friends wore in favor of a demure one-piece. None of this is to say she was shy: when we were in the car, Tracy frequently gave me head, and we had sex in several public places – just with her clothes on.

At home, things just kept getting better. While Tracy was always covered outside, she became even more eager than I to get naked in our apartment. And, her reticence at showing herself did nothing to diminish her desire to look at others. Shortly after she embraced our nude-at-home policy, I came home to find her looking at some of my old men's magazines that she had stumbled across. Much to my surprise, she wasn't upset with me for keeping them, in fact, she said she was relieved.

"I'm so glad you like magazines like this," she said. "I didn't want to tell you before, but I've always loved looking at this sort of thing – mostly Playgirl, but also some other magazines that show boys and girls together. I hope we can share things like this, too."

Thus, a whole new dimension in our relationship opened up. Soon, sharing porn became a regular activity for us. Having always looked at adult material with a man's eye, I was fascinated to see it – and enjoy it – from a woman's perspective. I even got to the point where I didn't mind looking at Playgirl with Tracy, not so much because I liked looking at the models' dicks, but because of her reaction to them. The idea that women (or at least this woman) liked checking out guys' bodies as much as I did women's was a real turn on. From time to time, Tracy would ask me to submit photos to the magazine's "real men" section. I must admit, I was tempted by the idea, but I always conditioned my acceptance on Tracy reciprocating by allowing me to send her nude photos in to one of the men's magazines with an amateur section. Despite my pleadings that she was far better looking that the women who were in those publications, Tracy's reticence about showing herself would take over at that point, and no photos were ever submitted by either of us.

Her inhibitions about exhibitionism were really my only complaint, however, and our relationship flourished through the remainder of our senior year. As we came to the end of the year, we decided that we wanted to continue together, and resolved to move back to my hometown following graduation. Before we had to go out and find jobs, however, our parents – who actually approved of our relationship, other than the cohabitation part – decided to give us plane tickets to Europe for a last summer of unreality. So, we bought Eurrail passes, packed up our backpacks and headed across the Atlantic.