This is the story of Robin and Alicia, two girls who I first got to know in college, and who are now thirty-something moms. Nothing ever happened between us in college—the time and place where you would think the good ol' sexual hijinks would take place—but I've been lucky enough to fuck them both in a few absurd situations since then. In fact, it's gotten so off the wall—not to mention off the charts—that I don't even know where it could go next. But for now, it's best to start at the beginning.
They weren't best friends with each other or anything in college, more like casual acquaintances. It was only afterwards that they built any real connection together, mostly as friends-of-friends at first, and then later on because of their geographic proximity.
Alicia has always been the brassy, sluttier one and Robin the more tightly-wound, quiet one. Alicia is short, maybe 5'4", sort of a normal body—not fat, not skinny. She's got dirty blonde hair, trending towards brown, cut a little severely at her jawline. In college she had a nice set of C cups that were low and heavy and not bad looking at all, but didn't really stick out to the eye in an obvious way. She's got a quick, big smile, and is pretty funny and outgoing. She's a lot of fun to be around. She's always handled herself in a sensual, touchy-feely fashion, and has a cute face with a stubby nose and big blue eyes. Her ass is decent but nothing to write home about. Basically, she's not really hot in an overt way, it's just that she gives off sexual vibes.
Robin is more introverted. She was especially quiet in college, and wore her shoulder-length straight blonde hair so that it hung in front of her face. She was taller, about 5'10", and skinnier. She was more classically good-looking—cute rather than beautiful, just like Alicia, but with nice cheekbones and eyes, and better hair. She was also sporting C-cups, but they were perkier than Alicia's and perhaps a bit smaller. She was an enthusiastic jogger and it was a damn fine sight to see her run along the road, her jugs bouncing around in her jog bra under her t-shirt. She also had a nice runner's ass. She was pretty damn smart, and while she wasn't much good at small talk, she was fun to chat with about the latest in biochemistry, if you like that kind of thing. I do, so I enjoyed hanging out, talking about RNA, and enjoying the presence of her tits while I was at it.
So when we were in college, both of them had boyfriends (Ted and Paul), sort of on-again off-again, who both also happened to be friends of mine, and while I definitely would have been happy to screw either of the girls, it was never really in the air. They were with my friends, and it wasn't worth it to mess around with that. Alicia especially kept breaking up with Ted and fucking around five guys, then getting back together with him, so if I had really wanted it, I could have just bided my time, but I always knew they'd get back together, she'd taunt him about all the guys she'd fucked, and then it would be over between me and him.
Later on, both of the girls got married to those boyfriends, and it was, ironically enough, mostly after that happened that I fucked them. This is the story of how it all went down. Alicia came first.
It was only one year after college. My roommates and I were having a party our apartment, and all our friends were there. This included Alicia and Ted, as well as Robin and Paul, although they didn't really figure into the equation at the time. They were all still just going out, not married yet. We were all getting pretty drunk, and I was definitely getting the eye from Alicia.
She and I had certainly flirted for about as long as we had known each other, even if it never came to anything. It was obvious that she was attracted to me, and of course as a guy I was attracted to anything that had breasts. So at this party, we were fooling around playing some game when she spilled some drink mixers on my shirt and shorts, which necessitated that I pull my shirt up a bit to clean it off, thus showing off my stomach. Being responsible for the spill, and drunk enough to act more than a little daring, she came over and gingerly pulled my pants away from my body to see how wet my underwear had gotten. She clearly got a sneak peek down inside them as well, and her excitement was peaked.
I could tell what was going on, and I took the opportunity to whisper in her ear: "Let's go fuck in the bathroom!"
Not exactly subtle or anything, but I was wasted and I had been working on a theory about how to hook up: just ask and see what happens. I didn't think anything would happen, it was at least partly a joke, but it was entertaining to flirt like it might be possible. Hell, she had a boyfriend and he was a friend of mine, but who gave a shit. All my previous temporizing went out the window.
And then she responded in an equally-quiet whisper, shocking me: "But, it would be too loud!"
Not, "My boyfriend is standing 10 feet away." Not even, "We're in the middle of a party." Instead: "It would be too loud."
Well, fuck.
