It was yet another extremely hot day in the valley and She had just called me to 'hang out'. Although I decided to drive right on over, I was a little confused by the offer. Just the other day, she had shot me down quick when I had asked her to dinner. I admit I wasn't offering the most romantic encounter, an ordered pizza, and a glass or two of wine at my place. I might as well have had been saying, "Hey, come on over and nix the panties." She told me then she was busy, I smacked myself for not having a bit more class, and that was that. Or so I thought, But, just a few hours ago, my phone exploded.
I didn't expect anything to happen, hope yes, but expect not really. However my pessimistic outlook didn't stop me from jumping in the shower, shaving a few bits, and putting on my favorite shirt. I even went commando, although I didn't think it would matter.
I drove to Her petite studio apartment so fast, I swear it took hours for my shadow to catch up. Oddly, I then spent a full five minutes in the car trying to catch my cool. I walked up to her front door, and plastered a look on my face that shrieked, "I'm trying very hard to look nonchalant." She answered the door in shorts, and and the, requisite, hot weather boyfriend-beater, drenched with sweat. We sat, we drank, we made flighty small talk. Our eyes then slowly shifted their attention to the television. Neither of us were watching the television, rather, we were just avoiding the uneasy feelings in the room. Somewhere, between when I came in, and when we stopped chatting, the sitcom showing had switched to something about a stripper trying to make it in 'a mans world'. Television program directors appear to have a sense for timing.
The heat of the day was the kind of heat that makes you completely aware of your body; it also makes everyone else aware of your body. I had never before been so aware of her body. Her white cotton shirt clung tight to her skin, and I could make out every curve and crevasse. I found myself turning in my chair, to hide my developing pup-tent. I started focusing on the television to keep the thoughts of her from causing me to make an idiot of myself, of course she didn't help at all.
"She's not that good, I could do better."
"Yeah, yeah," Smooth, as broken glass. I've always envied the smooth men. A smooth man would have known exactly what to say to get her to strip for him. I didn't have a clue.
"Um, I'm going to hop in the shower, this heat is getting to me. There are sodas in the fridge." She mumbled in a dejected tone "I won't be too long."
I beat myself up for a good couple of minutes, before I steeled my resolve to go talk to her. It didn't even cross my mind that she would actually be getting ready to take a shower. Actually she wasn't. I opened the door and literally saw everything. Her body was amazing, soft and firm, and each exactly where it should be. She had pert little breasts, in the style of swimmers or gymnasts. She was trim and neat, and nearly perfect. At the moment she was gently massaging her breast, and her other hand was up to the second knuckle in her delicate pussy, with a trail of juices running down her leg.