Couch Surfing

Several periods of my life included interludes of couch surfing. But there was something more to it…an underlying pattern of discovery lasting at least twenty years. It was always more than just having a place to sleep.

A memory was triggered by a story that I read. It was probably my first experience with truly being independent. At fifteen, I barely knew what masturbation was, much less being aware of edging. When a friend of a friend invited me to stay at her place while I was away from home one summer, I was immediately excited in a way that was new to me. All of my friends in this story are real, loving, wonderful people. I have changed their names, but everything else about them is true.

Debbie was her name. She was 18 years old and had just finished school. Her thick, curly long hair was so dark and silky. She had gorgeous big brown eyes and the prettiest smile. Being invited to stay with her, to my 15 year-old self, was like hanging out with a rock star. You can imagine how excited I was when it was time for bed and I watched as she changed into a long Tee with nothing underneath except her panties. Her breasts were full and firm, the cotton fabric of her shirt held on to them like a warm embrace and her nipples were clearly visible. 

I wanted to stay like this with her forever, but Debbie and my friend decided it was time for bed and that they would sleep together, leaving me the couch. I guess that Debbie sensed that I felt left out, so she told me I could sleep on the floor in her room if I wanted, and she left her bedroom door open. 

To me, it felt like an opening. I couldn’t sleep. At first I could hear them talking and then the sounds of them settling in to sleep. With my fingers lightly rubbing through my soft cotton panties, I imagined being in bed with Debbie. But I didn’t want to make noise or make a mess on the couch. As my panties started to become moist, the offer of sleeping on the floor came to mind and it seemed like a good idea. I spent the rest of the night beside her bed, rubbing myself, feeling close to her and close to an orgasm, but never quite reaching it. It was worth not sleeping.

My friend, Kelly, who had slept on the bed with Debbie, was also tall, then and attractive. She had thick, wavy hair that was deep red that she wore over her shoulders with a simple part down the middle. I found myself not long afterward staying with her on at her parent’s house on a sleeper sofa. She was totally straight, but I still thought about her. She slept with her door open, too, and at night I could see her lying in bed down a short hallway. 

One night The Feeling came into my mind again, an excitement and desire to share myself, this time with Kelly. But it was unspoken, as she was in bed asleep. I laid on my side facing her open doorway and remembered that night with her and Debbie, my fingers finding my puffy labia again through my panties. My mind wandered to what it would be like to kiss Kelly and be in bed with her, holding her and pressing my body to hers. That night I discovered how easy it was to just push the fabric of my panties aside and massage my exposed lips with my fingertips. I pushed the soft skin around, tugging my lips apart and dipping into the smooth, moist inner lips, feeling their slippery wetness and starting moaning softly, half hoping that Kelly would hear and fearful at the same time that I might be discovered. I was enjoying the fantasy and arousal without ever reaching a climax, only aware of being aroused while not wanting to make a mess or be discovered. 

So this became a theme. There were plenty of opportunities. Sleepovers with Kelly and other girls during high school, periods before and during my university years when I needed a place to live, and the occasional trip to another city. It was during one of these trips that I discovered something new. I was with Linda, my first real girlfriend. I was sleeping on the couch in her Stepfather’s house near Baltimore during the winter holidays. I don’t remember why, but we couldn’t sleep together. It was a small house and I think she was sharing the room with her little brother.

Oh god I loved Linda. She had this bright red hair and such a warm, vivacious personality to match. Her skin was so white and soft with a zillion tiny freckles and I loved just being close holding and kissing her. One cold night, with these thoughts running through my mind while I was trying to sleep on the couch, I just rolled slightly from laying on my side to halfway laying on my tummy with one leg bent, my knee out over the edge of the couch, and one hand sort of naturally falling into the space between my tummy and my upper thigh. Already a little tingly from thinking about Linda, I pushed my hand farther into that warm space, tilting up a bit to slide it into my panties. It was a perfect fit, my fingers cupping my warm puffy lips. It felt so good that I didn’t think about all those other things like noise and the mess I might make on the sheets and blankets. Besides, the noise of the furnace was more than anything I might do and I had been sleeping on the same sheets for almost a week. I went for it, overwhelmed by my thoughts, driven by an inner desire to share this experience and my feelings with Linda. Simply letting go, humping the palm of my hand and pushing my fingers up and down across my wet pussy, shuddering through an intense orgasm and continuing to ride my soaking wet hand and fingers as I started to come down.  But it was still there… a tingly desire that kept me going, so I kept playing and humping until I came again, exhausted. To this day, that remains my favorite solo position.

I went through a few relationships after Linda and found myself on my good friend Mellie’s couch. She was flirtatious, but married. The three of us were watching a movie one night and they were sitting on the couch together. He was wearing shorts and had an obvious erection going and started occasionally feeling it through his shorts. She noticed, probably before I did, and told him that she didn’t like it and that he should stop. We finished watching the moving and he behaved himself, but as soon as they left for bed, I was left on the couch wondering why nothing else happened. I laid on the couch for hours, bringing myself close to orgasm and letting it slip away, hoping that Mellie or her husband would come back and catch me. They never did and I enjoyed riding the lip of the wave and never letting it crash over me, but I still wish we had done more together.

Then there was the trip to DC. I stayed with old friends, Jeff and Cheryl,  who were married and had a nice, but small one bedroom apartment downtown near Connecticut Street. They had a mattress on the floor for me in the middle of the apartment and they had to walk by me in the morning to grab breakfast before leaving for work. One morning after he left for work, she was still I the bedroom asleep with the lights out. I had a strong urge to masturbate as I laid naked, throwing all of the covers off and imagining her lying beside me, pressing her body against mine. 

I rolled onto my tummy and briefly massaged my buns, feeling the motion tugging at my labia, pulling them apart and squashing them together again...and had a very strong feeling of wanting something inside me. Not hesitating or thinking much about my surroundings, I slid two fingers inside my pussy, pushing in as far as I could and then slowly working them back out...mmmm already so wet. I started finger fucking myself, lying face down, eyes closed with my left leg off to the side bent at the knee, left hip tilted slightly up off the mattress, my favorite position. But there was The Feeling again, wanting Cheryl to be part of the moment. And she was. She caught me and I pretended to be just waking up, no big deal. But what I really wanted? For her to stay and not rush off to work. 

The evolution continues, but now the couches have become comfortable beds and now my life is more settled. I haven’t ruined any marriages. Hopefully I helped them along the way. Jeff and Cheryl are still together and so are Mellie and her husband, Jim. Those hot nights alone on a couch may be over, but those memories of raw desire and wanting to share and expose myself will always be part of me. So will Debbie, Kelly, and Linda. I am so lucky to have shared their couches.