This is what I would call a “creative non-fiction” story about the relationship between myself and the female in the story. Most of our interactions in the story are accounts of real-life encounters, though some (the most explicit) are fantasies I have maintained of Bonnie since college. Her name is real, though mine has been altered.
This will be a progressive story of chapters.
One word with so much wrapped up in it. And what I mean by “so much” is a young woman who exuded sexiness more naturally than any other woman I had come into contact with in my life, and she was only twenty years old. And when I speak of her exuding sexiness, I don’t mean she cast seductive looks in every direction, or wore clothing that caught the eye of all the men around. Bonnie wore rather non-assuming (though feminine) clothes, and kept to herself more often than not, but she had an air about her and a way she carried herself that struck something deep inside me.
I’ll try to describe Bonnie as our story progresses, but words, inevitably, because you can’t see her like I still can in my mind’s eye, fail.
I caught extended looks at Bonnie my senior year when I would come back to B-hall junior-year residences to visit the girl, Rachel, I was dating at the time. I say girl because the difference between Bonnie and Rachel was one of womanhood and girlhood; one who put a dull ache in the base of my penis just seeing her walk and talk, and the other who was so petty in what she cared about and manipulative in relationship that I our relationship never progressed beyond physical attraction. One was self-sufficient and working (struggling) her way through college, and the other was on her dad’s dime, living comfortably and spoiled.
The places I ran into Bonnie most often were in the stairwells as I left my girlfriend’s room and headed out of the building. Bonnie had a great smile on the front side and a wonderful ass on the backside. She had nice wider hips, and when that feature was combined with her commitment to healthy exercise that gave her ass shape and firmness with juuust a little bit of plump, her backside was breathtaking to me. Put it this way, when I caught Bonnie in the stairwell, I slowed down for her smile, and slowed noticeably much more so to see her climb the stairs above me. Judging from what seemed to be a bit slower pace on her part in moving up the stairs (though that may have been in my mind), she had to know I was looking, even as I tried hard to be discreet about it.
Because my girlfriend and I had been in such a long-term relationship, though, and because I didn’t know much about the substance of who Bonnie was, I settled for the time being on looking and trading smiles.
One evening, though, in early April, I came up to the hallway Bonnie and Rachel lived on to visit Rachel. Rachel happened to not be there. While I stood in the hallway talking to Rachel’s roommate, Bonnie came out for a drink from the water fountain by the stairway door, shot a quick smile in my direction, then retreated back to her room.
As Bonnie bent over the water fountain, I noticed she was wearing a thin cotton tanktop (what my friends insensitively called a “wife beater,” some call “A-shirt”). In the short glance I cast over in her direction, I couldn’t help but notice her breasts as they were held by her bra under the shirt. I’m a small-breast guy, and Bonnie was about a 34-B; not flat by any stretch of the imagination, but not massive either. Her breasts were firm and stood proudly on her chest, shifting a little as she walked, but carried nicely by what looked to be a simple white bra under her top (could you tell what this woman was doing to me from my description of the short glance?).
I tore my eyes away as quickly as possible away from Bonnie so Rachel’s roomie wouldn’t suspect anything (she was absorbed in relaying some petty conflict with one of her friends and wasn’t paying attention anyways), missing what I’m sure was a worthwhile sight of Bonnie walking back to her room.
After about five more minutes of hearing Rachel’s roomie blather about things I didn’t care a lick about, I gave a quick excuse for needing to leave, pulled the door shut behind me so she could study, and walked toward the stairwell door. As I was about to push the door open to head down, I heard Bonnie’s voice say,
“Brian?” (my name)
I stopped for a second to make sure she had said what I thought she said, then she said it again,
Taken aback by her initiative (we had never had a significant conversation, though we knew each other’s friend groups), I walked over to her room and stood in the doorway.
“Hey Bonnie,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“Hey Brian, I have a question for you,” she said, and she continued on, but I honestly can’t tell you what she said after that. I should mention that I had a good reason for that, because after our initial comments, my eyes happened to flicker down to those beautiful breasts of hers, and something immediately stood out to me. Well, I shouldn’t say immediately, because it took my neanderthal male mind a couple seconds to grasp the full import of what had changed, but when I realized it, the dull Bonnie-ache in my penis returned with a vengeance.
She wasn’t wearing the bra any more.
As she continued to talk (I think about wanting to be a Resident Assistant the next year or something), I maintained a desperate hold on disciplining my gaze to only look at her breasts when she broke gaze with me. The sight was incredible. I don’t know if you, the reader, are familiar with these “A shirt” tanktops, but they’re constructed from very thin cotton material. Hers wasn’t sheer and completely see through, but it wasn’t opaque either. My present girlfriend now wears them under other tanktops, but never alone. Bonnie, however, was wearing the tanktop alone, and it was an older shirt, so the material was a bit more revealing.
The most incredible thing I noticed in my glances was that her breasts had not sagged down without the support of the bra almost at all. They retained their shape wonderfully, and continued to, seemingly as if they were beaming proudly themselves, sit prominently on her chest.
Now that I mention it, though, the shape of Bonnie’s breasts wasn’t the most incredible thing I noticed, because there under the tanktop material, the next thing my eye was drawn to was the contrasting brown of her nipples. Bonnie was seated at her computer desk so that her body was slightly profiled for me (rather than us directly facing one another), so not only could I see where her nipples began by the color change, but also through the way the material lifted as her nipples pushed out the fabric further than the rest of her breast.
I stood, speechless, as the ache in my penis turned into a growing erection. It was then that I inwardly cursed that I had worn loose cloth warmup pants rather than jeans, because my erection soon became obvious. I wasn’t at full-mast, but my penis had thickened enough and risen enough that in a glance down, I could see the outline of the shaft and mushroom head of my penis pushing against the front of my pants.
Shamefully, I looked up, expecting Bonnie to be offended or disgusted, but she continued on talking as if she hadn’t noticed a thing. “Maybe she hadn’t noticed,” I thought On my next glance down at her breasts, though, I noticed that her nipples had become more prominent, so much so that there were two definite bumps on her shirt where the nub of her nipples were now defined from the areolas. Was she aroused too?
Upon looking up to her face, I felt another wave of shame wash over me, because Bonnie was looking directly at me. She had to have seen me looking at her breasts. In fact, a small smile showed on the sides of her mouth that confirmed this possibility. Up to this point (I was still young and didn’t know enough about signals), I hadn’t considered the possibility that Bonnie intended to tease me directly.
“Why else would she take her bra off?” I asked myself internally when our gazes locked again. It was growing closer to nighttime, as it was about 8:30 pm, so she could’ve been relaxing in her room, not expecting male visitors. It was her room, after all, not Campus Walk. But, on the other hand, she had gone out of her way to call me to her room, and only five minutes before she had been wearing her bra; which would lead me to believe she may have intentionally wanted me to see her breasts. I was confused and questioning my instincts when seeming confirmation of the latter came.
I must have seemed distracted as I reasoned internally, because Bonnie’s gaze shifted away from my eyes. At first, I absentmindedly realized we weren’t looking at one another, then more concretely grasped it when I came out of my thoughts to hear Bonnie seem to lose her train of thought, then squeeze her legs together and squirm a bit in her seat. I followed her gaze and then it was her turn to be embarrassed. She was clearly staring at my partial erection, and as she saw that I had noticed, her face reddened in embarrassment.
Trying hard to recover, Bonnie stammered out a question, “What do you think about me being an RA, Brian? I need the money really bad.”
I hadn’t paid attention to her thoughts from before because of my senses and libido being overwhelmed by the sight of her breasts, so I stammered out my own response, “I think you should do it, Bonnie. You’re mature enough to handle it, and I think people would respect you.”
It was at this point that both of us were so unnerved at how events had transpired in the last couple minutes that we said a little more small talk with the intent of bringing our conversation to a close. As I walked out, my mind spinning (likely just as much from the sudden blood flow south in my body as with trying to figure things out), I turned over possibilities in my head.
If the situation had been set up by Bonnie, I had never had a young woman initiate like this before, so I was still reeling from what that might mean. Judging from Bonnie’s reaction too, even though she was possibly forward enough to remove her bra and initiate conversation, she didn’t seem to be too experienced in the area of seduction either. It may have been her first more aggressive sexual maneuver; that thought made me feel honored.
So either way, this felt like new territory for the both of us, and that was exciting to me. Bonnie was attracted enough to me that she did something she wouldn’t normally do, and I was attracted enough to her that I couldn’t help gazing at the breasts she had been vulnerable enough to “expose” for me.
I walked out to the stairwell and sat down so my erection could subside to a socially acceptable level for ten minutes or so, still reeling, before I walked home.
To be continued…