It was a Friday evening during the dead of winter. Five of the six of us friends were enjoying each other’s company at Lydia's house. The house actually belonged to her mother, Abigail, also known as Big Abby.
Big Abby was out as usual with her boyfriend, Gene, which was preferable to me because I never liked either of the two of them. The truth is that Big Abby was an overbearing know-it-all opinionated walking attitude while Gene was just a dirt-bag (details to be discussed in another story).
In the meantime, we were all having another meeting of the minds. We were discussing the world’s problems and how we would fix them when we were all made King, or Queen. The five of us shared several illustrious misfit qualities that were not easy to define. We did not consume much alcohol or use drugs. We did not carouse or gamble. Strangely enough, we really had no vices per se. However, we were all foul-mouthed rebels without a clue.
My name is Andrew. The other players were, Jennifer, Lydia, Alan, Ian, and Van. This is our eminent (term used loosely) band of misfits. Ian and Van would, oddly enough, cycle in and out. I guess they had other interests and obligations. Tonight, Van was present.
By now, you are acquainted with Jennifer as well as myself. Alan was a rather large (tall) individual who always earned the role of the drama queen. He was actually one of the most friendly and kindest individuals you would ever meet. However, he had a volatile temper. You wouldn't want to cross him. We were always able to keep him calm and relaxed.
When our conference on the world’s problems concluded, Lydia and Alan remained at the kitchen table. Alan was conducting his typical swooning rituals over Lydia. Poor fellow. He had it bad for Lydia. She, on the other hand, only accepted Alan as a friend. She would relentlessly work him to the nth degree. This display of a desperate lack of affection would linger on and haunt Alan for many years to come.
Lydia would achieve her self-validation by the male persuasion chasing after her. However, she was not a strong person. She appeared to have limited self-confidence. Needless to say, she fit into this group just fine.
Van is another individual who would often become lost in his introspective personality traits. He could then turn and be sarcastic and funny. Van was always welcomed into our endeavors. He did, like Jennifer and I, have the ability to feel other’s pain. In other words, empathy.
Ian is also one of the most friendly and kindest people on this earth. Ian is also sarcastic and funny. However, he tends to see his own truth at times. He sees how things are, differently than anyone else. He also tends to believe his own truth. In other words, he can be a Master Bull-Shitter. The difference between Ian and other people is that he does not try to lie. He actually believes the compost that he cultivates. In the end, he is still accepted for who he is.
These qualities described in this group are all similar. We all feel other’s pain and have the gift of empathy. This is what made us different.
Meanwhile in the den, adjacent to our Great International Meeting Hall (the kitchen), I was sitting in the comfy chair facing the TV. Van was in another chair fast asleep. Jennifer was wide awake sitting seductively on the couch facing me. She was wearing a dress that normally would hang to just above her knees. This was neither a miniskirt nor a longer dress. She was wearing leather boots that rose to the upper third of her calves.
Jennifer placed her right leg on the couch with her knee bent. It was against the couch's back with her foot flat on the cushion. She then placed her left leg straight out across the couch with her legs slightly spread apart. Jennifer was sitting there attempting to provocatively captivate my undivided attention. Whether it was intentional or not, she had it. 100% of my attention was fixated upon her.
I was visually examining her legs, those beautiful legs. There was a little meat on the bones, the way I like it. She had the kind of legs that would make you want to grab a hold of or take a bite out of them (figuratively speaking, but nibbling on them would have been good too). Her legs always made me very excited.
I stared at her boots and her knees which led me to salivating over the sight of the inside of her thighs. Jennifer's dress was slowly inching its way up her right thigh while it also crept up her left. Slowly, more and more was revealed. I was envisioning running my fingers up and down her calves, thighs, and touching her elusive pussy.
Although we had many sexual dalliances, her pussy was elusive due to the fact that I never touched it much less slid my fingers or tongue up inside of her. As hard as it may be to believe, many times I had my hard cock deep inside. I guess we did not learn the skillful art of foreplay at that time. We actually never had time.
Nevertheless, my overactive imagination spawned thoughts of her spreading her legs further and gently pulling her panties over to the side displaying her soft wet pussy. Then, I wanted to see her pull up her dress, spread her legs, and gently separate her lips. I had this burning desire to look up inside of her. I was temporarily in another place, with Jennifer alone, in Sexual Fantasy Land.