Sasha Stories: vol. 1

It has been over 6 years now since my exgirlfriend and me split up.  It was time to “see other people”, she told me one summer day when I had taken her out for a picnic date at a park we both liked near her apartment.  The irony with her statement was that I was pretty sure she was already seeing other people by that point.  A few months later my suspicions were confirmed when she made it facebook-official with one of her coworkers who I had met a few times before at her work functions, but he always acted super sketchy around me.  Now I knew why, it all made sense now.  But for as messy as our four year relationship ended, it certainly was worth it for the good times and incredible memories.  Namely, the memories of all the times my ex girlfriend was flaunting her ass around when we went out together.  Which was known to happen often, particularly when she was fed attention and encouragement.  I always made sure to make her as comfortable as I could by letting her know she was the prettiest woman at the restaurant or concert or minor league baseball game (etc) that we happened to be at.  In turn she would flash me her thong or a peak at her 34D breasts. I dated Sasha for over four years.  From our junior year at a Big Ten university to three years of living together in downtown Chicago.  During this time my waistline grew and my 5-mile trail running workouts from college became ancient history.  But Sasha on the other hand, she went from a solid 8/10 in college to a knockout 9.5/10 blonde bombshell.  She was 5’-5” but everyone remembered her as being much taller due to the 3-4” heels she habitually wore.  Even in school she would wear heels to the campus cafeteria.  By the time we were living downtown she had 30+ pairs of various heels, everything from platform to pumps.  She had quite a few dresses to go with them, but she had just as many corsets and leggings to match her showy footwear.  She was platinum blonde and was mostly legs at 110 lbs with tiny size 5 feet.  She was so skinny, my fingers almost touched when I put my hands around her waist.  Her tight muscular ass looked like it was designed in a laboratory.  Her skin was milk white up to her perfectly sized light pink nipples and her typically shaved and always-tight pussy.  Or as we called it her “badge”.  Because ‘badge’ rhymes with vag.  But also because I liked to say “Looks like these people don’t know who they’re dealing with… time to whip out your badge”.  Or some version of that. She liked to keep her badge nice and clean often with a fresh wax, which was critical given all the action it got.  She would only reluctantly agree to cultivate a landing strip or ladies’ soul patch for a special treat on my birthday or similar holidays.  She hated those mousey brown pubic hairs that betrayed her less than honest claim of being a “natural blonde”.  She was self-conscious about that.  And about freckles she’d get on her cheeks if she got too much sun.  Or her long tongue, which incidentally gave first class BJs.  Even her perky breasts were “tiny” in her words.  She certainly had her insecurities. Then other times, she could be bolder than a cab driver in rush hour traffic.  Like the time she wore flesh colored yoga pants to jiffy lube, or when she asked a police officer for directions with a nipple showing, and that time she made our cab driver guess what color thong she was wearing, the list of incidents goes on.  There are plenty more examples of my ex turning into an attention commanding vixen than I would be able to tell.  But, enough time has passed to share a few of my favorites.  Spring Break 2007: Part One One of the first times I can remember Sasha boldly showing off her skin in a public place was before we had graduated from college.  During spring break of our senior year we escaped the Midwestern winter for sunny Florida.  We’d been dating for about a year by this point, which is like 5 years in college romance life span.  But aside from visiting each other the prior summer while I was away on an internship, this was our first time getting away from everyone by ourselves.  Other than seeing my aunt and uncle in Tampa for long enough to borrow their spare car, we were away from the prying eyes of family. Despite being only 22 years old, we were getting a lot of questions about why we hadn’t gotten engaged yet.  So we were more than ready to do some carefree partying by ourselves. The first night we drove to Orlando to meet up with my friend, his college buddies, and his girlfriend at UCF.  Once we got there it was obvious we were starting too late, or they had gotten going pretty early.  Either way, instead of meeting my buddy and his friends at the bar, we ended up driving them home from the bar in 2 different cars.  My buddy rode in the passenger seat of my car and gave directions.  My girlfriend followed in one of the drunk friends’ car for the 2 or 3 miles it took to get back to my buddy’s apartment. When we arrived at his place these guys all seemed like they had found a second wind. They immediately started shotgunning beers in the front lawn before my buddy ushered everyone to the back yard.  I could tell by the look on my girlfriend’s face that the ride was not what she had in mind for tonight.  She then told me the guys were blasting the stereo and doing key bumps of cocaine while she was driving.  She said she was terrified they would be pulled over and she’d go to jail.  That’s not all, the guys finished a 6-pack of beers in the short period of time it took to get from the bar to the apartment.  They tried to get her to drink one of them, spilling half of it on her top.  After a fairly short period of time Sasha and me get a few drinks in and start to catch up with the buzz the rest of the party was sharing.  We weren’t into coke but instead we up-ended a couple of shot glasses and split a cigar.  My buddy’s girlfriend lent a dry shirt to my girlfriend while her beer-stained one soaked in the bathroom sink.  It was nice of her.  The only trouble was it was a thin white cotton shirt and Sasha was wearing a neon bra.  Everyone was either too stoned or drunk to take much notice.  But Sasha and me kept giggling every time we looked at each other.  We had a few more shots and the alcohol was really starting to set in.  Some of the guys had already passed out on the couch or on the floor.  After my buddy and his girlfriend went to bed it was just Sasha and me and two UCF undergrads who were trying to put off the inevitable coke and whiskey hangover that was beginning to set in.  These guys were slurring whole sentences and could not stand up without holding onto the wall. About this time my girlfriend returns from the bathroom and I can no longer see the neon bra.  In fact, I’m pretty sure I can see the outlines of two round half-dollar sized nipples.  Incredibly, these drunk fools don’t notice anything and continue smoking cigars and sharing a bottle of cheap whiskey.  Sasha is shocked, she was expecting to at least get some ogling of her chest before the night was over.  She and I decide to play a round of darts while finishing our last drinks.  She asks the guys if they want to join us, to which they stare back at us blankly remembering there are other people still here in the backyard.  One shakes his head “no” the other “yes” and they both stay put passing the bottle back and forth. After a couple of rounds of darts I can’t help but noticing Sasha keeps glancing at the guys trying to make eye contact.  They are near comatose by now.  But still drinking. When she manages to steal one of their looks she smiles and makes some exaggerated motion to emphasis her breasts poking through the borrowed shirt.  To no avail though.  One of the two finally passes out in his chair while the other stares out into the night at nothing. I look at Sasha and joke that she has lost her touch and might as well call it a night.  She tells me to give her another 2 minutes, then we can go to bed.  I could see the determination in her eyes, and being drunk myself I wanted to mess with her.  I put a 2:00 timer on my watch and taunted her “You’re on the clock!” My girlfriend turned around and gave me a self-assured look. She then promptly undid her black leather belt and slipped out of her tight blue jeans revealing a neon thong to match the bra she had on before.  Next she marched up to the partially awake one and snatched the bottle of whiskey from his hand.  He was dumbfounded at the sight of a skinny blonde girl in a thong and a transparent shirt bending over him and swigging his whiskey.  With the bottle in her hand she walked over to the seat the other guy sat in; slumped in a big chair and dead to the world.  She planted her voluptuous ass on the drunken guys lap and took another swig from the bottle.  She put the whiskey between her legs, grinding the bottle against the front of her neon thong that had taken on the shape of a cameltoe.  This caused her soft ass cheeks to pulsate through the drunk man’s baggy jeans.  And apparently through his drunken coma as well.  All of a sudden his sat up straight like a zombie.  A zombie with a raging boner.  Just then, the alarm on my watch sounded.  Sasha jumped off the drunk dude’s lap before he could figure out why a half naked chick had been dancing on his crotch.  “Good night!” she smiled as we disappeared inside the house.  We were laughing our way back to the guestroom when she realized her jeans were still out there.  I went back out myself and grabbed her jeans.  The guys were now totally awake, asking me if that was the same girl who gave them a ride home from the bar.  They couldn’t believe it.