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Shit, I’m homeless, I thought.

Here’s what happened. About a month ago, I graduated from college in New York City. It was great, I was ready to take on the world … I just didn’t have a job or a place to live yet. I had been living in student housing, which was great and cheap but unfortunately ended the day after graduation. I couldn’t go back to my parents’ house – or rather, I didn’t want to, because they were living in the suburbs of Houston, Texas, and I was looking to build a career in television, which unfortunately is still a business that only really exists in two cities in the country. So I wasn’t ready to call it quits on the city quite yet. Luckily, I had a few friends who already had apartments of their own, and who were willing to let me couch-surf for a little while until I got a job and a place of my own.

I had been staying with two former roommates, Pete and Javy, in their tiny place on the Lower East Side. I didn’t have a key, as their building had one of those weird blocky keys that you couldn’t make copies of, and I was only going to be with them for a short time anyway. Anyway, I had left town for a night to visit an aunt and uncle out on Long Island. Javy told me he was going out of town for the weekend, too, but Pete was going to be home. So there I was, on a hot summer Saturday afternoon, ringing the buzzer and wondering just where the hell Pete was. I called his cellphone.

“Hey, man, where are you?” I asked when he picked up.

“Shit, dude, I went to Boston,” Pete told me.

“Boston? Fuck, man, okay. What you doing in Boston?”

“Drinking, mostly. Smoking weed. Hitting on B.U. girls. Can’t Javy let you in?”

“Javy’s in Jersey, dude, he won’t be back ’til tomorrow.”

We were all really, really good communicators.

“Oh shit, man. Shit, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s cool, don’t worry about it. I’ll find a place to spend the night. Have fun in Boston!”

I had no idea where I was going to spend the night. All I had on me was a backpack with my swimsuit (my aunt and uncle had a pool), a paperback book and my cellphone charger. I could always get back on a train for an hour and a half and go back to my relatives’ place, which would beat sleeping on the street, but wasn’t optimal. The girl I was seeing still lived with her parents, so I couldn’t really stay there – not without getting stared down by her giant, construction-worker, strict Catholic father, anyway. Again, better than sleeping on the street, but just barely.

I went through my contact list. It seemed like most of my friends had gone home for the summer. I was screwed.

If it weren’t for Amanda, that is.

Amanda was a firecracker from New Orleans. We’d had a bunch of classes together, and there was nothing she couldn’t do. She was funny, she was smart, and she was sexy as hell. She had been living in Brooklyn since sophomore year, much too cool and way too independent to stay in student housing. I remembered a Christmas party she had one year, where she had dressed as Sexy Santa in a sheer red nightie with her bra and thong panties visible underneath. She was gorgeous and she knew it, and I think everybody who knew her had a little crush on her. I sure did!

Anyway, I was sure she had left New York as well, but apparently she was still around. I told her my tale of misfortune, and she laughed at me.

“That sucks!” she said, with her cute Southern accent. “I’m apartment-sitting for a girlfriend in Manhattan. I’m watering all her plants and feeding her tropical fish, and in return I get air conditioning and cable for a week. Come on up! Bring beer!”

She told me the address, I bought a pair of six-pack longnecks, and I went up to her friend’s apartment. Now, summers in New York are generally nasty, and this one was shaping up to be a record-breaker. By the time I got to Amanda’s friend’s apartment, my shirt and even my shorts were completely soaked through with sweat.

“Damn, look at you!” Amanda said as she opened the door. “Come in, get cool!”

Amanda was amazingly beautiful. She was short and slender and athletic, with a tight, firm ass and full, C-cup breasts. She had full lips and a button nose, bright blue eyes, pale skin and long, jet-black hair. She could have very easily been cast in a movie as Bettie Page. Across her face she had a smattering of little freckles, which she usually covered up with makeup but wasn’t wearing any that day. She had a blue rose tattooed on her left shoulder, a pin-up-style mermaid on her right, and a Louisiana fleur-de-lis just over her tailbone. (She hated the term “tramp stamp,” but there it was.) Amanda was dressed for laying around in the air conditioning: striped boxer shorts and a white tank top over a lacy green bra, and that’s about it. I was sure she had only put the bra on when I had rung the bell.

She took me by the wrist and pulled me into the apartment, shutting the door behind me. Inside it felt like icy cold, air-conditioned heaven. She gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and took the grocery bag of beer out of my hand.

“You’re porno soaked!” she said, taking two beers out and putting the rest in the fridge.

“Yeah, well, it’s freezing outside,” I said.

“Seriously,” she said. “Well, you can take a shower, if you want. I’ve got a clean t-shirt you can put on. It fits me like a dress, but I think it’ll fit you like an actual shirt. I don’t know what to do about shorts, though. I have a skirt that might fit you, if you’re comfortable enough in your masculinity to wear it.”

“Sure, that’s an option,” I said. “Or I could just not wear anything, freeball it all over your friend’s apartment.”

“Yeah, nudity party! Woo!” she cheered. “Oh my god, if you weren’t here, I would totally be naked right now, you have no idea.”

“Well, don’t sacrifice your comfort on my account.”

“Right, you wish!” Amanda laughed as she opened the beers. “No, no nudity party, sorry. I guess you could just wear a towel until your clothes dry out.”

“It’s okay, I actually have a bathing suit in my bag, I can wear that.”

“Oh, okay, that’s perfect then. Although you really would look cute in my skirt.” She handed me a beer, and we cheersed and drank. “I’ll get you that shirt and a towel, and you just hop into that shower. I was thinking of ordering Thai food, too. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

I picked something off the takeout menu, took the shirt and towel and my beer and went into the bathroom. It felt so good to strip out of my disgusting, sweaty clothes and get under the water. As I showered, beer in hand, I found I couldn’t shake the mental image of Amanda lounging around completely naked. I pictured her bare breasts, full and firm, pink nipples standing up in the air-conditioned chill. I wondered what her pussy looked like, whether she shaved it completely or if she kept some hair. I didn’t think she would leave it natural; but she might have it trimmed into a thin, black landing strip or something like that.

Thinking about Amanda naked left we with a raging hard-on in the shower. I gave my cock a few gentle strokes, and it stiffened even harder. The thought of rubbing one out really quickly with Amanda just outside the door was actually kind of a turn-on. I ran my fingers over the tip of my cock, caressing the head, soaking in the pleasure.

Then suddenly, there was a knock at the bathroom door, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to rush you, but I actually kind of really have to pee. So, I’m rushing you, I guess? Sorry!” Amanda called through the door.

“No worries, I’m all done,” I said. I turned the water all the way down to cold, freezing away all the sexy thoughts and causing my dick to shrink back down to a more manageable size. I quickly toweled off, got dressed, and let Amanda have the bathroom.

We spent the rest of the afternoon just hanging out together, drinking beer, watching movies on cable. Amanda’s always been a fun person to spend time with, and a fun person to drink with. The longer we hung out, the more we had to drink, the closer we got. Her friend’s couch was pretty big, but we sat pressed right up next to each other, drinking and joking and laughing. At one point, she said, “Do you mind if I take my bra off? It’s not very comfortable.”

“No, go ahead,” I said.

She unfasted the clasp and pulled her arms through the straps, without ever taking off her tank top. She pulled the bra out from under her top and tossed it aside. Her breasts were so perfect and firm, even with the bra off they hardly drooped at all. Only now, her nipples were much more visible, poking through the tank top.

“Much better,” she said. “Enjoying the view?”

“What? You accusing me of staring at your boobs? Do you think I’m uncouth or something? I am the pinnacle of couthness. I am Joe Couth.”

“Why wouldn’t you stare? My boobs are amazing.”

She did a little shimmy, shaking her tits in her tight white tank top. I tried to pick up my jaw from where it had hit the floor, and she laughed again.

“More beer?” she asked.

“More beer!” I said.

We kept drinking, and found a shitty B-movie to watch on cable. It had bad computer-animated aliens, and the hero was a former child star who was now over-the-hill and had had a lot of plastic surgery, and he had three assistants who were all big-titted models, and the dialogue was atrocious and nobody could act and it was hilarious. About fifteen minutes into it, the blonde big-titted research assistants snuck off into a quiet corner with the tough-as-nails marine played by a Calvin Kline model.

“I never got a chance to really thank you for saving our lives back there,” she said.

“Oh, she’s gonna get nekkid now,” I said.

“Show them tits!” Amanda shouted.

The girl took of her shirt, and Amanda and I cheersed. Then her bra came off too, and we both screamed in horror.

“Oh shit!” I hollered. “Someone got the discount boob job!”

“Why are her nipples THERE?” Amanda asked, aghast. “Why are her nipples THERE?!?”

The guy took his shirt off, too, revealing his chiseled pecs and abs to the camera.

“Ooh, we’ve got a waxer,” Amanda observed.

“You don’t know that,” I said, “he might have a genetic condition. Male pattern chest-baldness. It’s a serious thing, there’s like research grants for it and shit.”

“Research grants for it and shit?”

“Yes! And shit!”

The movie dissolved from the two actors kissing to the two actors pretending to have sex in soft focus. The girl was on top, grinding on the man’s chest, her hands blocking her pussy from the camera’s view except for a pencil-thin line of dark hair.

“She’s a waxer, too,” I noted. “Also not apparently a natural blonde. Who’d a thunk it?”

“Dude, she is having sex with his BELLY,” Amanda said, cracking up. “Seriously, what are they doing? I mean, honestly… here, get on your back.”

Suddenly Amanda was pushing me down onto the couch. I lay back, careful not to spill any beer, and then Amanda was on top of me, straddling my belly.

“This is where she is!” Amanda shouted. She began to bounce, making exaggerated sex noises just like the woman in the movie.

“Yeah, do it, yeah!” I laughed, stroking Amanda’s thigh. Without a bra on, her breasts bounced freely inside her tank top, and I could feel my penis start to awaken. Amanda climbed off my belly, grinning wickedly, and I sat up and tried to conceal my half-stiffy.

“More beer?” I asked.

“More beer!” Amanda replied. I could swear those pretty blue eyes darted to my crotch for just a second. She smiled, and I got us another round out of the fridge.

Later in the movie, there was another sex scene, this time between the other two women, in what was supposed to be the Library of Congress but clearly had just been shot in some college library.

“Did you ever have sex in the library?” Amanda asked.

“Nah, missed out on that,” I said. “Did you?”

“Yeah, once,” she said. “I was dating Graham Collins for a bit, do you know Graham?”

“Yeah, I know Graham. Nice guy.”

“Eh, maybe to other dudes. He’s kind of a prick to women. Anyway, he’s way into having sex in public places. Kept wanting me to give him handjobs on the subway, gross. But we did it on the fourth floor, in the molecular physics stacks.”

“Just there on the floor?”

“No, we did it standing up. I had a skirt on, so we just kind of pulled my panties to the side and he did me from behind, through his fly. It was kind of exciting, with the danger of being caught, but the sex itself was just eh. And when we were done, he totally wanted to just leave the condom there, like, on top of the books, but I didn’t let him. That shit’s just rude.”

“I had sex in Central Park once,” I said. “That’s my sex-in-public story. It was with the girl I was seeing last year, Deborah. Not Debbie, never Debbie, always Deborah, she was very particular about that. We were coming out of a show, drunk, horny, and we just ducked into the park and did it behind some bushes, in the shadows.”

“Kinky!” Amanda said.

“Yeah, well, we were on top of a rock or something, apparently, ’cause the next day she had a big ol’ bruise on her back. Oops.”

Amanda held up her beer. “To fucking in public!”

“To fucking in public!”

We clinked our bottles together and drained them. Over the course of the evening, we must have drank all twelve of the beers I’d brought. Eventually we wound up with her sitting with her long, smooth legs up on the coffee table, while I was kind of sprawled out sideways on the couch with my head resting on her left shoulder.

“You’ve got a pretty flower,” I said, looking at her tattoo.

“Thank you sir,” she said, giggling. I didn’t know if it was that funny, but we were drunk, and she had a pretty laugh. I laughed too, and smiled up at her.

She smiled back down at me. There we were, happy, laughing, and drunk, with our faces just inches apart. The moment was just there. I don’t know if I moved first or she did, but we closed that gap and pressed our lips to each other. Our kisses were very gentle at first, very tentative. We both laughed again, it was all so unexpected! Then we dove back in for more, kissing with more passion, our lips apart, our tongues exploring each other’s mouths. I put a hand around her waist to draw her closer, and she caressed my cheek and ran her fingers through my thick hair.

I slipped my hand up under her top, fingertips the soft skin of her belly, moving up and then cupping a perfect, firm breast. I squeezed lightly, and ran my thumb over her hard nipple. Amanda moaned with pleasure. I couldn’t believe what we were doing – me and Amanda, making out, feeling up her tits! It was incredible.

I pulled her shirt up over her breasts. There they were, beautifully round and high, with pink, quarter-sized areolas around her stiff nipples. I dropped my head to her chest, holding her breasts up to my face, kissing them. I put my mouth over her right breast, flicking her nipple with my tongue.

“Mmmmm,” she purred. I moved to her left breast, squeezing it and sucking on her nipple. Both her hands were in my hair, gripping it tightly, holding my head to her breasts. I stayed there for a while, licking her nipples, nursing on her. Her quiet little gasps were music to my ears, and I found myself getting really hard again. I pushed myself up and moved my face back to hers, and we began kissing again, our tongues hungrily playing with each other.

Amanda grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt and pulled it up and over my head. She tossed the shirt aside, then pulled her top completely off as well. Then we got back to kissing, our bare skin pressed against each other, her hard nipples squeezed against my chest. She ran her fingers up and down my abs, brushing through my chest hair. My stiff cock pushed against her hip, through the material of our shorts. She rocked against it, sending waves of pleasure throughout my entire body.

“Let’s move to the bed, okay?” she said.

“Yeah that sounds like a good idea,” I agreed.

We got up off the couch and went to the bedroom, my cock standing up at full attention, tenting my bathing suit. Amanda walked ahead of me, giving me a nice view of her shapely little ass. As she walked, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her boxer shorts and slowly, seductively pushed them down. She wasn’t wearing any panties underneath. Inch by inch, she uncovered her ass, showing me those beautiful white cheeks, that enticing crack between them. The shorts dropped to the floor, and she stepped out of them and turned around.

Finally, I had the answer to the question I had been pondering in the shower. She had a day or two’s worth of stubble, but clearly she kept her pussy completely shaved. I could see her tight, pink lips, with the little nub of her clit just poking through.

“Goddamn you’re sexy,” I said.

“Look at you!” she said, eyes fixed on the tent in my shorts. “Damn, son! Does that thing need to come up for air?”

Her fingers curled around my waistband and pulled, yanking my bathing suit to the ground. She wrapped a hand around my rigid cock and gave me a few tender strokes. I groaned, in heaven, and started sucking on her nipple again while she fondled my dick.

“Get on the bed,” she said.

I did as I was told, lying on my back in the middle of the bed, my hard cock pointing straight at the ceiling. Amanda crawled onto the bed, dangling her soft breasts over my cock.

“Do you like that?” she asked, smiling.

“Oh yeah,” I said, as she kept rubbing my dick with her tits. She lay down on top of me, stroking my cock in her cleavage. The feeling was incredible. And then she put her mouth on me, wrapping her lips around my dick, running her tongue along the underside.

“Ohhhhh,” I groaned as she sucked my dick with her full, wet lips. I looked down, watching that raven-haired bombshell and her head went up and down, licking and sucking. I could feel my cock swell as the orgasm built inside me.

“You’re gonna have to stop,” I whispered.

She didn’t. Instead, she winked at me and kept going, gripping my cock with her hand and stroking as she sucked. I moaned as she brought me past the point of no return, the pressure building and building, her stroking and sucking and sucking and stroking, and then I was there. My cock exploded in her mouth, spraying my cum down her throat. She didn’t stop for a second, swallowing it all as she kept sucking and stroking, while spurt after spurt after spurt shot out of my dick and into her mouth.

Eventually the orgasm subsided, and my cock began to deflate. Amanda kept sucking, drawing out every last drop, until finally I slipped out of her mouth. She licked her lips and smiled.

“How was that?” she asked.

“That was … there are no words,” I said. “That was poetry. That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my entire life. You’re a goddess.”

“Good,” Amanda said. “Now it’s my turn.”

She crawled up the bed and straddled my face. I was looking up, right at her pussy, smelling the musk of her arousal. Giving head turned her on, apparently, because she was already very wet, her pink lips slightly parted, shining with moisture.

“Sorry, I need a shave,” she said. “Obviously I wasn’t expecting naked time tonight.”

“Don’t even worry about, it’s actually sexy as hell,” I said.

It was true. There was something about those tiny black hairs, forming the ghost of a triangle over her mons, that was so incredibly hot.

“Bring that pussy down here,” I said, and she lowered herself to my mouth.

I wrapped my arms around her legs and got to work. Slowly, teasingly, I licked her wet slit, up and down, up and down. I loved her taste, tangy, almost spicy. Her lips parted, and I pushed my tongue in farther, licking, eating her delicious cunt. I moved my head up and brushed her clit with my tongue. She inhaled sharply, loudly, and I teased her again, flicking that little pink bean with the tip of my tongue. I kissed it, sucked it, and pushed my tongue up into her. Amanda began to rock her hips, grinding her pussy into my face, moaning. I started to hum, low, adding vibration to the mix and I sucked on her clit.

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