Over the weekend I visited an old friend in Philadelphia. She goes to a small liberal arts school there, and lives with three of her classmates. In all, there's Jenn (my friend), Quinn, Rebecca and Tati. Jenn warned me before I left Brooklyn that her roommates were rather liberated women, which after a bit of questioning turned out to mean often naked. That's fine, I said, I'm not one to be offended by a little nudity.
I arrived friday night to find the girls drinking sangria in their unreasonably hot and muggy apartment. Jenn introduced me, showed me around, and explained that Tati is morally opposed to air conditioners. "You're lucky we're all fully clothed," she said. "Most nights like this we'd have stripped down by now." Lucky indeed, I though.
Back in the living room I was handed a perspiring glass of sangria and joined the conversation. Circumcision, Quinn was arguing, destroys the most sensitive areas of the penis, and ought to be considered mutilation. "What's your take on it, B?" She asked. I had just sat down and all four of them were looking at me, waiting for my opinion on circumcision. I said I agreed with Quinn, and they went back to discussing it amongst themselves, giving me a moment to survey the scene.
Quinn, the apparent leader of the group, was tall and golden haired, with a smart sarcastic glimmer in her eyes. Her lightly tanned skin glowed against her gauzy white summer dress, and when she leaned forward for her drink the low neckline of the dress fell forward showing us most of her equally luminous breasts.
Rebecca, with her huge brown eyes, her long curly black hair, full lips and generous curves, was a veritable Jewish princess. Her brown tanktop wasn't concealing the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra over her big soft boobs. And her short cotton shorts showed off her ample thighs.
Tati, on the other hand, was petite. She had short cute brown hair under a colorful, vaguely Indian headband, and wore an all-but-threadbare thriftshop t-shirt through which her most obviously perky nipples demonstrated their perkiness. When she sunk back into the couch, the t-shirt hugged her small, firm upturned breasts.
Jenn didn't know it, but her friends' soft young bodies had given me a pleasant minor hardon. We all went to bed, warmly drunk off sangria, and I slept on the couch with images of the girls writhing in my head.
I awoke the next morning to Quinn crossing the livingroom to the bathroom wrapped in a towel. She smiled at me and closed the door behind her. But the door was a french door. And it had no curtains. My sleepy brain put this all together and I realized that I was looking into the bathroom at the shower curtain, and that just around the corner, out of sight from the livingroom Quinn was sitting on the toilet, peeing. I decided on the spot to pretend to have fallen back asleep, facing the french doors. Quinn flushed the toilet and emerged back into view completely naked.
Saturday morning sun slanted in through the bathroom window, illuminating her gorgeous hair and already luminous golden skin. Her back curved gracefully down to her soft round ass, and from there it was all smooth leg down to the tiled floor. She turned around and the sunlight struck her breasts, which tapered to her golden nipples like soft cones and levitated effortlessly over her perfectly smooth belly. She moved and the sun set fire to her golden bush. Then she turned on the shower and disappeared behind the vinyl curtain.
