We picked up some chicks at the concert, my roommate Lance and I. They said they were from the city, but who knows. They could have said anything. Lance had his choice of them, always his choice on account of his looks and charm, and so I got stuck with the chunky one. Diane, her name was, and if I'm not mistaken the hot one's name was Nicole. We bought them drinks, danced with them, chatted them up, and when the show ended, we invited them back to our place.
"I don't know," Diane said. "It's pretty late." She looked at her friend. All around us, people flooded toward the exits. Lance was practically groping Nicole.
"Oh, come on," she said to Diane, her voice a little too loud and her words a little too slurred. "It'll be fun."
Our apartment was a dozen blocks or more from the arena, and Diane started complaining about the walk before we were halfway there. "Jesus Christ, you guys. I thought you said this place was close. Nicole, don't you think we should get back to your house? Your father said midnight."
Lance and Nicole just laughed, walking ahead of us and pawing all over each other. Diane was walking next to me, but was keeping me at an arm's length. "I can't believe this," she muttered under her breath. When we arrived at our place, she was even less impressed. "Look at this place, Nicole," I heard her say. "We shouldn't go in here."
So we lived in a broke part of town. Our building wasn't much to look at. The hallways smelled like urine and the elevator hadn't worked in all the time we'd been there. It wasn't like we were dirty guys. Our apartment was nice, all things considered. Living in the city was expensive, and neither one of us liked to work.
You can imagine how things went once we got there. Lance and Nicole stumbled immediately off to his bedroom and I was stuck in the living room with Diane. The silence. I spoke only to hear myself speak. "That was a hell of a show tonight."
"I guess. I saw them in Hartford and it was better."
"Last month?" The same band had played Hartford earlier in the month and they'd performed their first album in its entirety. "That was epic."
She suddenly seemed partway interested in conversing. "You were there?"
I hadn't gone, but I lied. "I've got a few buddies in the area," I said. "I try to get to every show I can." That much was the truth. I'd seen that particular band more than a dozen times.
"Wow, I got so fucked up at that show," she blurted. For the first time all night, she actually laughed. "Oh god." It was a good laugh, and when she wasn't scowling, she was actually kind of cute: blue-green eyes darkened with a touch of mascara, light brown hair cut shoulder length, full and glossy lips that I could easily imagine locked around my dick. "I think I got groped about a hundred times and I didn't even care."
"Maybe I was one of those guys," I said, pushing my luck as always. "Hard for me to remember without actually..." I stared at her tits, the strained fabric of her shirt.
"In your dreams," she said, though still she wore a trace of grin.
I shrugged. "If that's the way it's got to be."
She really did have some stunning features. The more I looked at her, the more I wanted her. It was only the weight that was an issue, but the more I thought about it and the more I checked her out, it wasn't that much of a problem at all. She had a killer rack and a nice big dumper that seemed like a lot of fun to slap around.
I put on some music and we talked a little. After a couple of songs I rolled a joint and we smoked. As we got steadily more stoned, we sank further into the enormous, cushiony couch Lance and I had at the time. At one point she stopped smoking, and I finished on my own. She was almost prone next to me, her sturdy legs in those tight jeans extended fully, her head down, her arms crossed and resting just below the swell of her breasts. She had on a form fitting, black concert tee, and I could see a good inch or two of milky white skin, a curve of baby fat cupping slightly over her jeans.
In a way, she was the one who made the first move, at least she was the one who showed interest. She yawned, stretched her arms above her head and practically laid in my lap, arching her back and pushing out her tits. Her shirt pulled up and I could see her pale tummy, her belly button. I set my hand there, on her skin, and she opened her eyes.
Those seconds. Those first seconds of magic before the move is fully made. When we both know what will happen, though it hasn't yet begun. Sometimes I think those breathless seconds are better than the act itself. I leaned down and I planted my lips on hers. I pushed open her mouth with my lips, and I licked her tongue. After a few seconds I withdrew, and she rose up to meet me. Her arms came up behind my head and she pulled my face to her. She let out a moan as we kissed.
My left hand was still on her waist and I squeezed her, kneaded the soft flesh of her sides. I pushed her back on the couch. She moaned again and closed her eyes, and I took the brief opportunity to stare down at her. No doubt she was a brickhouse, and in those moments hot as hell. Something about the way she pursed her lips. Something about her little moans. Her thighs and hips were tight in her jeans. I rubbed her midsection, pulling her shirt up to just below her bra. The flesh there was pale and soft and gave way to every pressure I applied. I was drunk and found myself wanting to slap her tummy, rip her shirt off and squeeze her tits. Maybe a guy like Lance would have done it, but I had a second thought and that was enough to stop me. Instead I leaned down and I kissed her stomach, her belly button, that milky white skin of her sides.
She giggled, set her hand gently on my head, and I realized I'd given her the wrong idea. I certainly wasn't going to eat her pussy. Instead I sat up, straddling her, pulled her up into a sitting position and pulled her shirt up above her chest, exposing a pair of the biggest, juiciest jugs I'd ever seen in real life, squeezed tight in a sheer black bra. For the first time in a long time, she opened her eyes. Her hips were grinding under me. I think I might have even said, "Holy shit." And she pulled her shirt all the way off.
I couldn't wait. I practically threw myself upon her. My left hand went to the button of her jeans. My right hand deftly wrapped around her and I sprang the bra loose in one well practiced move. Her bra held to those D-cups even as the straps slid down. Before I'd even realized it, my hands were at her waist and furiously working the strained button of her jeans. When it came free, the zipper came down easily and with my eager assistance she stripped them off. Tiny black panties, a perfect match to the bra, which had finally fallen enough to expose one breast.
Voluptuous. Soft and bubbly and voluptuous. She was all that and then some. She flopped back on the couch and flicked her bra to the floor, and her glorious breasts bounced free and sloped off to either side They were larger than softballs, sloping to either side and with big pink nipples. Her legs were still in the air and she spread them wide, one hand on her stomach and the other on the creamy white skin of her inner thigh. "Get them off," she said, a husky, urgent moan behind her voice.
I grabbed her panties, a hand on either side, yanked them off as fast as I could. She had a shiny pink pussy and a fluffy dark mound of hair. I threw the panties and I pulled off my shirt, went to furious work on the button of my shorts.
"Yeah," she moaned. "Come on." She set both hands on those meaty tits and squeezed, flesh oozing on every side. It was the hottest thing I'd ever seen. I stuck two fingers in her pussy and there was a quiet but audible slurp. She moaned again. "Ohhh yeah." She was loose, and she was wet.
