Woman About Town

I was walking to Jeff's apartment, in sort of a hurry. It was a nice day. The wind was blowing enough to cool you off and I found my way in the shade of the buildings and the trees of downtown San Jose, California.

Jeff had called me and told me to rush over. It was supposed to be something important, and Jeff always had something going on, so I was making an effort to get to his place as soon as I could without running and working up a big sweat.

It was Cinco de Mayo, and Jeff had talked like he had some really good pot or maybe he had a couple of college girls over. The way he put it, "something had just landed." I figured it was girls. We used to double date a lot and Jeff was always a lady's man. He went out of his way to meet women and the girls really liked him, or at least college girls did.

They really did like him, and I could never figure out exactly why they liked him so much. Maybe they thought he was cute or maybe it was his personality. He was nice, after all, and I guess he was "fun." Maybe that's why I liked him, he was always up for some fun, and he'd usually find it—or create it himself.

He was definitely a creative guy. I think his major was art and design or something. He was from SoCal, and he was unconventional, to say the least. He was always doing something new, something different. I guess it was in his genes. His whole family was probably like that.

Mine, on the other hand, wasn't. My Old Man had wanted me to be an engineer, or worse, an accountant. It just wasn't in me. I tried majoring in that stuff, but I was just plain bored to death. I finally settled on political science. It's boring, too, but I guess I can always go to law school. At least my Old Man would be happy with that. The only problem is that everyone in California is a lawyer. The guy at Starbucks has a JD and so does my landlord. Anyway, I guess I'll end up doing something boring no matter what. I swear, if it weren't for Jeff, my life would be pretty boring.

I knocked on the door of Jeff's apartment, and his roommate answered the door and then, without saying a word, sat down in front of the tv, to watch some more sports. I stood there, looking around, looking at the dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and just taking in the little one-bedroom apartment, which Jeff shared with his roommate. Then Jeff came out of the bedroom, looking as trim and athletic and as short as usual.

He told me to come in the room right away and not say a word. I had to be quiet. He even shhhhhed me right before I went in.

As soon as I entered the darkly lit room, the stiff, beaten curtains making the time of day seem more like a relaxed evening than a bright concrete noon, I saw the girl's ass. I mean I could still see it well, a bare ass on a mostly naked body. I saw everything in spite of the old curtains being nearly shut, as they were too small for the window and the breeze lifted them out of its way whenever it so pleased. The sun's light creeping through was orange in this brown room, dim enough and honest enough to make clear what would have been washed out in a harsh, bright lying light. It was definitely a female's body, a healthy female's body, and that realization hit me hard and made me take a step back, out of my own embarrassment. And I could see it all. I saw her anus, her pubic hair, her labias, and her clitoris.

Her body was bent over and her elbows were on the bed and her clothes were pulled down and pulled up so that I could see everything except her shoulders and her ankles, only her socks weren't pulled down and they were higher than her shorts were now. Her long, blonde hair was spread across her back and down her arms. The hair color looked natural to me, but what do I know? The hips, the barest part of her body I guess, were wide for a college girl's and that's the way I like them, fairly wide. The legs were nice, not thin by any means but just full enough to be sexy. And they were pretty white but not what I would call pale. If I had to guess her height, I'd say it was between five feet even and five four.

Jeff was standing next to me, smiling, and he motioned toward her. So finally I pulled down my pants and exposed the erection I had. Then I entered her, without saying a word. It was wet. Actually, gooey wet and hot inside. Reluctantly I put my hands on her hips after I entered her. For some reason, touching her hips seemed more personal than entering her. After I got going, found some rhythm, I grabbed a breast. I held it firmly and then kneaded it and found a big nipple to play with. That pussy was sure soft. I wish I could have come a lot more in it.

Jeff ole buddy had never gotten me laid this easily. I was surprised to say the least. I'm surprised I didn't cum in two seconds. Maybe I did and kept going and came again. All I can say is that everything felt unbelievable. This girl really had a good pussy.

Miss Stripped seemed to be unconcerned. I'd say we, that is Jeff's slutty friend and I, were both having fun. Maybe Jeff had just finished in her and that's why her pussy was so turned on, so gooey hot inside. As a straight man, I try not to think about that possibility, some guy coming in her right before I did. Maybe Jeff had plied her with drinks—that would explain a lot. Or maybe it was some good weed. You know, I never even considered that possibility before.

Obviously, Jeff knew who I was and he knew who the girl was, but I didn't know who the girl was, and I doubt she knew who I was. In other words, the sex was completely anonymous. I couldn't see her face, and her body was much like the bodies of many other young college girls. I didn't hear her laugh or speak but I did hear her moan. Her moaning was the only identifying feature of her physically. Of course, it's hard to spot someone on the street by their love moans. But there was that wild pair of socks. They were dark yellow and they had some thin blue stripes. Thereafter, I walked around San Jose State, looking at the ankles of every blonde haired girl in an effort to find those crazy socks. I must have looked at a thousand ankles, but I never once saw those socks again.

I never saw Jeff with a blonde girl who had legs quite like the ones I saw that day. I guess he was protecting her, and she probably didn't want the embarrassment of facing me. I wonder if she regretted doing it, but I doubt it. I never talked to Jeff about it in case he really liked her. I mean, maybe he really liked this girl. Things seemed different between them, from what I could tell.

I felt honored because I think we were being quiet so that his roommate wouldn't hear us and know what was going on. That means his roommate didn't get a shot. This was a secret game, and I felt young. College could make you feel old, what with all the deadlines and assignments and part-time work and internships and so on. I was stressed most of the time, but right now I felt young. This was what college was supposed to be all about.

I pulled up my shorts and left. I could tell I got only one turn by the look Jeff gave me, a 'buddy, you've had your fun and now you're done' look. Before I left, I smiled at Jeff. I think he enjoyed being seen as a lady's man. I think he got as much thrill out of being looked up to by the guys as he did in actually being with these girls. That makes me wonder where Jeff is now. I should look him up and reminisce, but I have this fear that he married the girl, so I don't want to interfere. But I do have one question: I walked around campus for two years, looking for this girl. Are you her?