Back in the late 70s, I had just transferred my sophomore year in college to a new university where I knew practically no one. I was taking a way-too-easy Spanish class and spotted a pretty good-looking girl on the other side of the room. She had a really pretty, Eastern European face, was of medium height, and had long, perfectly straight brown hair down to her bottom. Fleshy would best describe her build, and she had those pendulous kind of breasts that had never seen a bra and hung down to swing alluringly with every move.
But the thing that first got my attention was the way she dressed like a hippy: earth shoes, frayed jeans, wide leather belt with toolwork, gauze shirt, beads, and a flower or two in her hair. She kind of reminded me of a young Grace Slick, the lead singer of Jefferson Airplane. This girl was a free spirit who smoked something more than Marlboros—just the kind of chick I liked.
I met Eileen on the way out of class and got acquainted with her on the long walk back to her house, which she said she shared with five other girls. Our classes done for the day, I asked her if she wanted to party, as I had some “party materiel” on me. She invited me in and we partook. She was very direct yet sympathetic, and said that sometimes when men give a girl something they expect something in return, and that she would not want to hurt my feelings by going to bed with me and then another man tomorrow, since I seemed like a person seeking a steady girlfriend and was ready to fall in love. Man, Eileen had read me like a book! Even though I thought she was very sexually attractive, I had already determined that we would probably just be friends, which is just what I needed, and a good friend she became, as you will see later in this true story.
Well, one by one, her five roommates returned to the house from class, and they were all attractive and wild. Bobbie, lithe as a panther in her black cat suit, with short, curly black hair, was fiery and outspoken. We’d hardly said “hello” when she mentioned, parenthetical to her main story, about how good inhaling nitrous oxide (laughing gas) was during sex with her two transsexual cousins while riding the world’s tallest Ferris wheel in a blizzard when she was only twelve! OK, so she’s not exactly the inhibited type. The next three roommates to arrive—all good-looking–were equally outrageous, each in their own unique way. The final housemate to return was Lauri, and let me tell you, the best had been saved for last.
Lauri was a senior nursing student who came through the front door in her white uniform. I got only a glimpse of her before she went upstairs, but I could perceive in an instant her intelligence, playfulness, and sensuality. When I heard someone descending the creaky stairs a few minutes later, I turned to see that the barefoot Laurie had changed into some well-worn faded Levis and a cropped, midriff-baring yellow tee-shirt, obviously bra-less.
With each step she took down, her 36D breasts bounced the bounce that only bouncy young breasts can bounce. Looking up the stairs, I could just barely see the bottom of their smooth roundness peek out at the downward-most point of the bounce before their firm elasticity pulled them back from view. Little did I suspect then what I would witness shortly.
But this beauty was not just about boobs. She had the best and most of what any red-blooded man, or perhaps woman, could want. Her thick, wavy “dishwater blonde” hair, simply styled, hung to just below her shoulders, and framed a face that can only be described as timelessly attractive, like Grace Kelly or a countenance sculpted by Michaelangelo.
As she stood in the bright sunlight in front of the glass storm door not eight feet from where I sat with Eileen, I studied the curve of her back, the sensuous small waist and “outie” naval above the low-slung jeans, and how the fade lines revealed every contour of her perfect buttocks, mons, and slender legs. Her hazel eyes telegraphed “there’s a remote possibility I’d let you rub hot oil all over my nude body.” Cute, dramatically arched feet together as she pivoted to face us, the Sun’s rays shot through the heart-shaped gap just below her crotch. My penis, already pulsing in a partial erection, would fit nicely there, I thought.
Lauri mumbled something about “old men” and turned back to gaze out the storm door again. “Why don’t you give them a little stimulation?” suggested Eileen.
I looked through the window to see across the street four elderly men sitting in rocking and wheel chairs looking our, well, Lauri’s way. I looked back at Lauri just in time to see her pull up the front of her tee-shirt and tuck it behind her head, fully exposing her magnificent breasts in all their glory! (Her tendency to follow Eileen’s suggestions would become relevant later on.) Was this the new geriatric care plan being taught in nursing schools?
First, she wiggled her shoulders back and forth, which caused her boobs to jiggle left to esenyurt otele gelen escort right and emphasized their pliable firmness. Then, she squeezed them from below with her dainty hands and tweaked the bright pink tips, permanently rigid, between thumb and forefinger until the nipples became extra pointy.
Next, she pressed her breasts together from the sides with her upper arms, accentuating her already considerable cleavage. Then Lauri arched her back in a faux orgasmic gesture, jutting her mammaries up and out until the crease beneath them nearly disappeared. Looking up, straight at the old men, she leaned forward to give them a frontal hanging boob view.
As a finale, she took a step forward to the storm door and pressed them hard against the cool glass as she simultaneously kissed it with open lips, leaving an interesting two-boobs-and-mouth imprint.
Eyes riveted on Lauri until now, I looked back out the window to see that the eyes of all four octogenarians were popping out. The one in the wheel chair had actually stood up and taken a few steps toward us, or, rather Lauri, and it appeared another, slack-jawed, was taking some kind of medication!! The other two were rocking so big in their chairs they were about to tip over, grinning ear to ear. As I turned back, Eileen’s eyes darted up from my obviously bulging crotch and said, “So, do you like my friends?” “Yes,” I replied, “I would like to spend some more time here, for sure.” I could only imagine what sort of time I would be making here a few months hence.
Well, I did spend more time there at the wild gal house on the hill that academic quarter and got to be good friends with Eileen and more than casually acquainted with the other girls. Their “coolness quotient” was way beyond mine, but, even so, they seemed to like me, and I partied with them, helped them move furniture and plant shrubs, and, being an ace student, assisted with their homework.
But Lauri was the smart one who never needed any help with school, and it was clearly she who figured most prominently in my fantasies. She had a boyfriend in her hometown a couple hundred miles away, and I met him once when he came to visit her. This dude was at least 14 times cooler than me, and, at least when he was around, captured Lauri’s complete attention. I could just tell, however, that Lauri was not his only girl. I discussed the situation and my interest with Eileen. She said she’d try to lay some groundwork for me, but that Lauri was crazy for Mr. Cool Dude, although she would on occasion bring another man home. Maybe I would be lucky enough to be one of them some day.
In the mean time, I began semi-dating a kooky theater student I’d met through another crowd. Having short, curly brown hair and eyes, Marty was high-strung and as unpredictable as she was horny. Stick-thin and somewhat bird-like with tiny ta-tas and very puffy, dark red nipples, her fleshy mons and genitalia protruded incongruously from her crotch all the time, but especially so when she became aroused. It was as though her genitals were on steroids while the rest of her was half-starved. I’ve never seen anything like this, and she therefore looked OK clothed but great naked. Even my studly roommate, who had at first asked me why I was seeing this girl and later saw her sleeping face-up nude on my bed, came directly to the bathroom where I was showering to tell me he now completely understood the attraction.
Moreover, she was as flexible as Gumby. Lying on her back, she could easily tuck both legs behind her head to expose a wide-open, dark red vagina for me to finger, lick, and poke. And this being her favorite position, she loved to be fingered, licked, and poked. When my 7 inches was fully inside her, I could actually feel the head of my penis entering her cervix! You’d think this would be uncomfortable for her, but her screams and moans of pleasure indicated otherwise, and for me, it was great–a veritable vagina within a vagina!
But we were not serious and never would be. My thoughts often dwelled on the goddess Lauri, and I finally screwed up the courage to ask her out, right to her face over at her house. Here’s how she answered: She stood very close, placed her index finger on my chest, and said, “You’re funny and cute and considerate, but I’m trying to be good.” Then the phone rang, and it was, yep, you guessed it, Mr. Cool Dude. Oh, well, at least she didn’t say “no.”
At the end of the Fall quarter, the wild gals in the house on the hill threw a big party after exams, and, of course, I was there, even though I had not packed and was riding with someone back to my home town for the month-long Christmas break early the next morning. It was a cold December night, and not having a car, I bundled up in heavy clothes and hiking boots and walked the three miles there.
As I approached the house, I could hear the party noise and see the many revelers in the front yard and on esenyurt rus escort the porch. People, some of whom I recognized but many I did not, were drinking and smoking and laughing and dancing and kissing. As usual, this looked to be a good party. I chatted briefly with a few folks on the way in and spotted Eileen and her boyfriend, who she had been seeing for about a month, on the couch and joined them.
Jack was an excellent guy I had already come to know, and the three of us struck up a lively conversation. Sitting by the stereo, he and Eileen were unofficially in charge of the evening’s music. However, the “stumble biscuits” they had eaten was making it increasingly difficult to manipulate the turntable and vinyl records (this was 1978, folks), so I assumed the music-master role myself.
All the other wild gals of the house were there, and they were having a very large time. Typically, Lauri was surrounded by a phalanx of would-be suitors, and she was wearing a pair of her trademark faded Levis, along with a thick turtleneck fisherman’s sweater, which did nothing but accentuate her drop-dead figure. She was her usual gorgeous self, and I, as usual, wanted her badly.
Eileen looked real good, too. She had braided strands of hair on each side and pulled them to the back of her head where they were fastened with a wood-and-leather clasp, and she was wearing clogs, wide-wale cords, and a loose flannel shirt with the top three buttons undone, revealing the tops of her large boobs, between which a silver locket on a chain nestled.
Being the music-master, I had moved to the chair next to the stereo, facing her and Jack on the couch, and each time she leaned forward to tap the ashes from her cigarette into the tray on the coffee table between us, the weight of the smooth heavy locket would slide down from between her buttery soft cleavage and hang on the third shirt button, pulling the flannel down to expose both pendulous breasts swaying gently. For the first time I could see that her areolas were a good three inches in diameter and the nipples within them were located not in the center, but rather up a bit toward the top. They looked fantastic! Since Eileen smoked a lot, I got to look a lot. Jack caught me staring and simply raised his eyebrows and shrugged, as if to say, “Enjoy, my friend.”
Well, the party crowd first swelled and then slowly diminished over the next few hours as I pretty much stayed in one place changing records and talking to most, as everyone seemed to have a request and I was usually able to oblige from the vast record collection. Of the twenty or so people left, they all seemed to be paired up making out, and although I talked to Lauri a few times earlier, I had not seen her in quite some time, presuming that she had either crashed or taken one of those “occasionals” with some lucky guy.
One stumble biscuit too many, Jack was laid out on the couch and had not moved in over an hour. I had not seen Eileen in a while either. Hell, I was leaving for over a month tomorrow, and I was horny as the devil, so, seeing no prospects here, I decided to go back to my apartment and call Marty. Surely she would want to make love before I left. Without saying good-bye, I put on Dylan’s Blood On The Tracks, and, still wearing those heavy-duty hiking boots, RAN THE THREE MILES back to my apartment. Horniness will make you do such things, you know.
The elevators were down, so I ran up the stairs to my 8th-floor apartment and, soaking with sweat, called Marty at about 1:00 AM. It sounded like I woke her up, but I was glad she answered the phone instead of her parents at that hour. “I’m acting in an early matinee tomorrow, you’re an hour away, and Dad is taking the car in to be serviced first thing tomorrow morning. There’s nothing I’d like more than to spend the night with you, but it’s just not going to happen unless you can find a ride up here to me.” CRAP! I told her I understood, and that I’d see her in January.
As I hung up, my roommate came in with the gorgeous dark-skinned beauty I had introduced him to a few weeks earlier. They were wasted, and as they ricocheted down the dark hall to his bedroom, I heard a giggle and out flew a bra that landed on my shoulder. It was still warm and redolent of powdery femininity. Bally 36D…. Lauri, I thought. I’m going back.
So, still in those clunky boots, I ran down the 16 flights of stairs and all the way back to the wild gal house on the hill. Actually, I walked the last ¼ mile so I could catch my breath and cool off in the below-freezing air. Entering, there Jack was still catatonic on the couch, a guy beside him I didn’t know puffing on a hand-rolled, and, to my pleasant surprise, Eileen and Lauri standing by the warm radiator. There was no sign of anyone else. Curiously, the Dylan record was still playing (Had I run the six-mile round-trip that fast?), so I walked over to the turntable and put on Yes Songs. “Oooh, good choice,” said esenyurt türbanlı escort Lauri from the opposite side of the big room. There, on the back of the music-master chair, was the unique down parka I had forgotten in my haste, so apparently no one had noticed that I had ever left. Hmmm, perhaps I had subconsciously known that I would return.
I noticed Eileen and Lauri were whispering to each other as they rubbed their back sides against the tall radiator like house cats. They were swaying a bit, which I suspected was related to Jack’s pocketful of “stumble biscuits.” They glanced furtively at me and the other guy, pointed and giggled at the passed-out Jack, then switched off the porch light, closed the big wooden front door and locked it. What were those two up to?
“Anybody interested in an orgy?” I thought I heard one of the girls say as I exhaled a lung-full of funny-smelling smoke and noticed Other Guy looking back at me in utter disbelief. Figuring I was hallucinating, I lowered the stereo volume just in time to hear them say much louder, in unison, “We said, is anybody interested in an orgy?!”
As if awakened from death, Jack immediately popped to his feet. The three of us men replied in a strong chorus of “Yes!!!” as Eileen and Lauri began to undress each other. Every lamp and the ceiling light was on in that white-walled living room, and I wouldn’t think of compromising the view, so I left them all on but quickly lowered the blinds. After all, this could prove fatal to the old men across the street, if they were still up.
Standing behind her, Lauri unfastened the remaining buttons on Eileen’s shirt and slipped it from her shoulders to expose her bell-clapper boobs with mega-nipples. My, did they look good! Lauri kissed Eileen’s neck as she squeezed her boobs as though they were her own. Then, still behind her, Lauri deftly slipped Eileen’s cords and panties, all together, down to her ankles, where she stepped out of them and her clogs. So, that’s what her bush looks like? I like it. I like it. All three of us men moved forward.
Just then, Eileen parted her pubes with the fingers of one hand to reveal her genitalia. We stepped even closer for a better look. Then she inserted a finger from her other hand into her vagina and said, “this is where I want your penises to go.” Pulling her labia and hood back further to expose the clitoris, she instructed, “but not before you work this little button real good,” stroking it herself to show us just how.
Smiling, Lauri pulled off her turtleneck to reveal a black satin bra and then her jeans to reveal little matching panties. Dang, I thought, I’d rather see Lauri in her underwear than any other woman totally nude! “I hope we’re not boring you guys,” teased Lauri. At this point, I actually pinched myself to make sure this was indeed happening.
Eileen came around in front of Lauri and removed her bra, it being the type with the closure in front, and messaged Lauri’s breasts to restore their full circulation. Kneeling, Eileen slowly slid Lauri’s black panties down to the floor to partially obscure the sexiest feet to ever walk the planet. But my eyes quickly trained back on Lauri’s COMPLETELY SHAVED CROTCH, something you just hardly ever saw back in those days. Even with her legs together, as I mentioned before, she had that rare gap between them below the crotch that, against the bright white wall, displayed the bright pink labia and clitoral hood that matched her scrumptious nipples.
Then the two girls turned to face each other and embraced in a deep French kiss as their breasts gently brushed together and they squeezed each other’s behinds. They finally broke the kiss and looked back at us men, extending their hands toward us with Lauri saying, “It’s time for you boys to undress and join us in here.” The next room, right there by the radiator, was Eileen’s, and she proceeded to open the French door so that the five of us could enter.
Well, as I said before, my coolness quotient is not as high as some other’s, so Jack and Other Guy were naked and having sex with two of the world’s sexiest women before I could even get my jeans off. I first had to get those hiking boots unlaced—no small task in itself—and then try to peel off some new blue jeans I’d just got and washed in hot water to start the fading process. Their tightness (exacerbated by a raging erection), coupled with the moist stickiness of my perpiration caused by a six-mile round trip run to my apartment and back, considerably slowed my stripping.
As I did so, I watched the girls climb into the bed and each assume the “doggie-style” position, directly facing and kissing each other across the width of the bed so that their bottoms were at its sides. Now it looked to me that they would first want their vaginas licked, but, instead, Jack, standing on the floor on my side of the bed, parted his girlfriend’s buns and easily slid into her. Meanwhile, on the opposite side, Other Guy, who had a regular-size penis but with a purple plus-size head, rammed himself into Lauri without hesitation, and I could tell from her expression that this seemed to be somewhat painful. Struggling to free myself from the seemingly infinite buttons on my red union suit, I observed both men rapidly pumping the women and thought I’d never last long going that fast this early.