Sluttiest Day Of My Life

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When I was between girlfriends, I was a slut, but there was this one day that very well may have been the single sluttiest of my life:

I met these 3 girls, all very good looking, in my Archaeology class Winter Quarter of my sophomore year in college. I was being much more forward than usual with everyone I met, because I was desperately seeking a ride to Mardi Gras, asking virtually everyone I encountered if they were going to New Orleans for the big party. I’d gone the year before, had the time of my life, and was eager to go again. The 3 girls were friends from outside of the class, and usually walked to and from class together. I’d join them on the walk, and that’s how we got acquainted. I would never have met them, nor a lot of other people, had I not been looking so hard for a ride to Mardi Gras.

After the mid-term exam, when she finished the test and walked out alone, I asked out the tall, athletic redhead. Tried to make a date, you know, pizza and beer kind of thing like normal college dates. But JoAnne was a track and field athlete on scholarship, apparently one of the top college heptathletes in the world with dreams of Olympic gold, so she didn’t drink or smoke anything, was on a strict diet, and had practice twice a day, 3 hours in the early morning, 3 hours in the afternoon, with classes in between.

Unable to reach consensus on what the date would be, she finally just told me to come over to her dorm room at 7 PM that evening, and we’d figure out what to do from there. Sounded good.

Well, when I got there, she was still in her tight-fitting, barely-there track clothes, which accentuated her lithe, muscular physique and, unlike most track and field athletes, very full breasts. Her thick red hair was like a mane halfway down her back. She looked fabulous but was obviously not dressed to go out, unless our date was to consist of hopping hurdles and chunking javelins.

First thing JoAnne said when I came in the small dorm room and sat down on her roommate’s bed was that her roomie was out for the evening but hated for people to sit on her bed. I stood up immediately and looked at both chairs, piled high with text books. Lying provocatively on her own bed in what can only be described as a pose, she patted the mattress, and told me to have a seat. I sat. Then JoAnne proceeded to tell me that she did nude modeling for the Art department, and what did I think about that?

Frankly, I was a bit taken aback and, not wanting to appear the lech that I am, pried my eyes from her bodacious body to stare at the medals and ribbons that covered the walls on her side of the room, fumbled for some appropriate answer, and then nervously joked that I should really look into taking that Art class.

Saying, “Oh, you don’t need to take the class to see me naked,” she stripped off her top and kicked off her shorts.

But for her track shoes, she was completely nude, and to say she was comfortable with that would be an understatement. Wow! If there was ever a girl one could say had a perfect body, pendik escort it was JoAnne. At least five feet ten inches tall, curvy but extremely lean, she had boobs the size of grapefruits and just as firm; a tight, muscular ass topping looooong, sinuous legs; and a flaming bush as red as the hair on her head.

Though I’m pretty athletic, I’m basically just a tall, skinny dude, yet she was fascinated with my physique, pulling off my clothes and asking what my percentage of body fat was. Of course, I had no idea, whereupon she whipped out some calipers from a drawer and proceeded to measure me in umpteen places, scratching down numbers on a pad, doing some computations, and announcing with glee, “Four percent. Unreal–only four fucking percent!”

I don’t think she could have been more happy had I eaten her pussy for an hour. Apparently, JoAnne had a fetish-like fixation on low body fat. Though she had nice curves, they were all muscle, as she said she was only 8% body fat. She went on to explain that women naturally have more body fat than men, but that she had half the average for females, and that at 4%, I was in even more the extreme minority for a male. Well, that was certainly an education.

Visually appearing to have very low body fat was what had attracted her to me in the first place, and now, having confirmed it with a number, she was even more turned on in a major way. Announcing, coach-like, that it was time to have sex, she snatched my under shorts off and gobbled Mr. Johnson into her warm mouth while her hands roamed all over my skinny-as-a-bean-pole body. At that point, I had been there only about ten minutes!

Over the next 3 hours we sucked, licked, and fucked in most of the sexual positions known to mankind, but, clearly in charge, she spent most of the time riding cock on top of me while using her hands to feel all the places she’d calipered me earlier. JoAnne was very strong and super aggressive, came innumerable times, and sucked me hard up to erect status again not even 10 minutes after I’d cum the first time, which must have been a personal record, then mounted and fucked the shit out of me some more.

Though I had a thoroughly pleasurable time with her from a purely sexual perspective, we had no “love connection,” and I was honestly kind of afraid of this Amazon of a woman. Removing the track shoes she’d kept on I guess for sexual traction, at exactly 10:00 PM, she announced it was her bedtime, switched off the light, and informed me it was time for me to go.

No kiss, no good-bye, JoAnne’s last words were, “Only 4% body fat! Great sex! Make sure the door’s locked on your way out,” and turned over in her bed towards the wall.

I got redressed and exited into the bright dorm room hall, dazed and questioning myself that this had actually happened. Having had the shit fucked out of me by a girl who had absolutely no interest in me but for sex, for the first time in my life, I felt used. Cheap date, though!

To relax, I fired up a bowl of Hawaiian on the short walk maltepe escort back to my high rise apartment building. The elevator was broken on my end of the building, so I ambled down the hall to go to the other elevator. As I did, I passed the pub, hearing music thumping and people laughing, and was reminded that it was a Friday night and still early.

I poked my head in the door and watched the bartender fill a pitcher with cold beer. That sure looked appealing. At that moment, I heard someone saying, “Mardi Gras. Mardi Gras! Hey, you, Mardi Gras, over here!”

Well, there at a table with two girls I didn’t know was Jessica–one of the other 2 girls from my Archaeology class that walked with JoAnne–summonsing me over.

Her friends departed pretty soon thereafter, leaving us alone at the table. We drank a couple of pitchers and talked and talked and talked. We were having a grand time and liked each other immensely. Then we went up to my top floor apartment, got high, and got naked. Well, Jessica was another looker, a tall brunette with a sweet face and perfect smile; long, stalky legs; and a pair of small, pretty yams with puffy nipples. We made wonderful, slow, passionate love, so different from the pretty rough, pure sex I had earlier with her friend.

Of course, I failed to mention that detail to Jessica, and if she noticed JoAnne’s leftover “flavor” on me, she didn’t say anything. Jessica gave a fabulous blow job and must have really liked my flavor, too, as she swallowed my load with obvious pleasure and continued to suck every drop of cum out, relishing it like a fine Cabernet. Sure, she was real good in bed, but the thing I liked most about Jessica was her personality; she seemed like just the right girl for me, and I was ready for a steady girlfriend.

She was always able to anticipate just what I was going to do next, shifting smoothly into position after position with ease. After a second round in which I came in her pussy doggie, we fell asleep on my bed, and I awoke having to piss badly shortly before 2AM. There was no sign of Jessica, but the bed was still warm where she had lain. Damn, this girl I liked so much had left without so much as saying goodbye!

She couldn’t have made it too far, so I raced up one level to the roof to scan the area 360 degrees from the top of my building–tallest on that side of campus–thinking I would catch her walking away.

I realized I was standing at that moment right over the apartment of Heimie, the hated German landlord who unfortunately lived only two apartments down the hall from mine and despised 1. my musical tastes, 2. the volume I played it at, 3. my interior decorating (late Milk Crate period), 4. all female guests, 5. all male guests, 6. the pungent herbal smoke that wafted from my windows, 7. me, 8. my roommate, 9. every other tenant in his building, and 10. human beings in general.

A distinctive exhaust duct identified the vent-a-hoods over the range in the kitchen of each apartment below. Hmmmm. Having to piss kartal escort like a mutha, still inebriated, and half asleep, I whipped out Mr. Johnson and emptied my bladder into Heimie’s duct—no easy maneuver since it was curved down to keep out rain–laughing out loud how infuriated he would be next time he switched on the kitchen exhaust fan. Wienersnitzel and kraut with a urine marinade!

But there was no time for further hijinx, as I spotted a girl below, who I could not positively identify in the dark at that distance, that looked like it could be Jessica. So, I ran down 16 flights and tore around the side of the building after her, I’m sure breaking the modern Stairs Descent ” I must have misunderstood it in the noise of the bar. Success! Though I really wanted Jessica , with the hottie Paula lying naked in my bed the next morning, I would have been remiss to not awaken her by way of ye ol’ dick-in-the-pussy alarm. So I did, culminating in yet another ear-splitting orgasm.

As soon as Paula left, I phoned Jessica and made a date. Turns out she resided three floors below me in my building! That’s why, though the bed was still warm, I couldn’t see anyone leaving from the roof. She said she tried to awake me to say good-bye, but I was out like a lamp, and, without a tampon, she had to go right away because her period was starting. She almost immediately became my steady girlfriend, one of three true loves of my life, and we stayed together for several years.

JoAnne, the redhead; Jessica, the brunette; and Paula, the blonde. Three beautiful women I had sex with over a mere 15-hour period. Amazing. Even more amazing was that none of them ever told any of others. Why not? Because it was clear to all that Jessica and I were in love. JoAnne and Paula had the good judgement to know that some things are better left unsaid.

Shortly after Paula left, at about 10:30 AM, I heard ear-splitting screaming and hollering down the hall. It was the landlord Heimie cursing loudly in German. At first I wondered what all the commotion was about, then I remembered my little stunt. Apparently, he had switched on his vent-a-hood, which of course had aerated a fine mist of my urine into his kitchen and likely into his face and onto his breakfast.

I phoned his number to complain about the noise, parroting verbatim the excessive-noise clause in the lease I’d memorized because he had so often quoted it to me. Utterly berserk, he was not amused and slammed the phone down.

I heard neighbors coming out of their apartments into the hall, so I slipped on a robe and joined them. There was consensus that Heimie was a loathsome man, but everyone wanted to know what was wrong with him now. Well, of course, I knew that he was pissed off because he’d been pissed on.

But, like JoAnne and Paula, I also had the good judgement to know that some things are better left unsaid.

Morals of the story: Meet as many people as you can; the more you know, the more sex you’ll have, and the more likely you’ll find a true love. Take a serious look at reducing your body fat; it may have benefits other than health. Master the hypocampal submilacious cross-fusion technique, i.e., the fine art of bullshit. And have the good judgement to know when some things are better left unsaid.

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