Karina and Milan went clubbing three times each week, though their college courses probably required more devotion than they were giving them. But what the hell, you only get to partake in the college life once, right? Karina, often admiring Milan's athletic features, was curvy, or, as her mother referred to her, "Coca-Cola bottle" shaped. She had a 36-C shelf, a small waist that flared out into soft unyielding hips. Her 5'6" frame could barely contain her rubenesque body. Milan, on the other hand, was as exotic as her name. Her now tanned mahogany skin sheathed a goddess body. She stood 5'10", with 38-DD breasts, and slender hips with the slightest flare. The tomboy body from her youth had blossomed into a desirable woman.
Tonight, Karina and Milan decided to go out to a new club, Cloud 9. Walking in, Milan was dressed in boots, leather booty shorts and a halter top that barely containing her well above average breasts. Karina was dressed as sexily, in an ultra-mini dress that showed the bottom of her lovely ass cheeks when she bent over. They did what they knew how to do, starting the night with double tequila shots and then gyrating against every man they could get their hands on. They loved to give men rock-hard hard-ons, and leave them on the dance floor, and frequently kept tally to compare notes at the end of the night. This one night though, Karina found one man that she didn't want to leave quite yet.
Dancing, her ass to his hips, she decided to turn around to get a better look at the man that felt so good. She liked how he was dressed, simply and elegantly, in a nice jacket and silk shirt, and she found his white tanned skin and the hard lump in his pants very intriguing. Having never been with a white man, but naturally curious, she did everything to keep his attention on her.
She decided to say au revoir to Milan early and told her to page her when she got home. Mike, as he introduced himself, told Karina that he was 26 (which, to a 22-year old, seems a distant number) and was a candidate for residency at the city hospital. On the drive to the IHOP, and while there, he told her that he was not in the habit of picking up women at a club, much less going to clubs, but he had a good feeling about her. They talked some more, and decided to go to his house to talk some more.
Karina looked at Mike's home through the window of the Camaro, spread out like a hacienda in the hills and wondered how a medical student could afford these digs. He read her mind, explaining "I'm from money. This is just the tip of the iceberg from my father's estate. When I was younger I had a problem with it, but as a starving medical student, I take what I can get." They got out of the sports car, the medical student leading the way. She was nervous, and her nervousness and wanting for this man left her thong soaked and made her horny. As she shifted against her thong, she let the string rub gently against her clit, sending chills up her spine.
Inside, Karina now shifted absently on Mike's leather couch watching him make drinks for them. Karina realized that she was wet due to her shifting and the spot would be rather evident on a black leather couch. The air-conditioning was on, she noticed, because her eraser-sized nipples were poking through the spaghetti-strapped mini-dress. As he came toward the couch, Karina explained why she was here with him "Excuse me, this is not my habit, going home with strange men, so why don't you tell me more about yourself, before you hand me that drink."
She coyly smiled and noticed the twitch in his pants. "My name is Mike, really, it's Michele. Michele is a little too French for Americans."
"So your French," Karina asked. "Well, my father is French, my mother a California girl, and he insisted that his children be instilled with French gentile, so here I am, Michele Jean Louis Beauveau." The French rolled from his tongue and made him even more sexy to Karina, and in turn, made her even more wet, a problem that becoming more hard to hide." You look more California-boy to me rather than French."
His tan physique with sun-kissed blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes was a far cry from the buppie wannabe businessmen that Karina usually dated or the thugs she fucked. "Well", Mike said, "genes can be a very complicated thing. 1/2 French and 1/2 American does not necessarily mix equally. I think I got great features from both of my parents."
"I won't argue with that, she huskily cooed."
