Tuesday was full of good sightings on campus, with the girls bringing out their girls to enjoy the sunny weather. Many were unfortunately in passing, such as a very bouncy D-cup in a tight yellow Lycra top; a bird's eye view of another D sitting on the floor in a black low-cut blouse as I passed in a hallway; a meek double or triple-D acquaintance with startlingly beautiful eyes who graduated from my high school the year before me and looked up from her studies for a quick hello, and whose supple butt I had the pleasure of following through an entire building; a small-busted, tight-bodied classmate notable for having both the face and body of Jessica Biel and showcasing the latter in a small white baby shirt and ridiculously tiny red Daisy Dukes; a braless probably DD in a loose lavender t-shirt with BLAZING nipples; a D or DD former Psych classmate with a lovely smile who stopped to chat for a minute; and another former classmate from the same Psych course as the previous girl, whose breasts I will remember for years.
Very short girl, breaking about 5' even, with smooth, milky skin, a hourglass Betty Grable-type figure she hid too often under loose clothing--though I could never be sure if it was self-consciousness or just the way she liked to dress--and a cute little elvin face with an endearing impish grin at once young and old; amazingly petite body type, as you can imagine, carrying a massive D rack. Those things are...wow. In Psych last quarter, I sat behind her and to the right ("back...and to the right..."), and let's just say the highlight of my day for much of last quarter was arriving to class early to watch her come in and bend over 90 degrees toward me when she put her bag down, her slack top dropping away and letting her sweet, creamy breasts hang like torpedoes, fighting for space between her arms as she removed her books, always with the tantalizing feeling that any second, they might just slip right out of her bra and give you the peekaboo of a lifetime, and she wouldn't even notice. We became friends for a little while, and I had the pleasure of basking in her beauty--from a distance, of course, as she had a boyfriend. The day of the aforementioned sightings, I passed her as she sat outside talking with friends, wearing a tight lilac-colored Lycra top much like the yellow one described above, only hers was straining under the weight of her heavy, heavy boobs and EXPLODING with plush, marshmallowy cleavage, served up like warm white pillows. I wouldn't have been surprised to find a mint bobbing precariously between them. (What a place to lay one's head!)
Psych classes must be where all the babes are hanging out, because in two of my courses this quarter is a Psych major who happens to be one of the most drop-dead gorgeous girls I will probably ever have the honor of knowing. Hasn't given in to the stick-figure craze, with luscious curvy hips, full thighs, a little something extra in back, and a nice pair of big, full C's. Not to be outdone by her body, she also has a beautiful head of blond hair, a smile that could answer every question and soothe every need, deep, striking crystal blue eyes, and an amazingly analytical mind. It's odd, considering my usual tendency to go Jerry Lewis ("They love him in France") and make a complete fool of myself around girls like this but I'm learning to cool my nerves around attractive girls, and we've become good friends. This is, of course, terribly difficult, since I spend the entire time I'm around her melting inside and sneaking any glance I can of any part of her body I can stare at dreamily without her noticing. (And yes, she's dating someone.)
Last week sometime, she came into class fuming about some teenaged brat at her job who "just stares at my tits when he talks to me." She went on a five-minute diatribe in which the word "tits" flew out of her mouth at the rate of about nine times a minute, mingled with complex concepts and the harshest of swears. Then, two other classmates joined us, and she repeated the story with greater detail; and she has this way of, even in the middle of an angry rant, cooing the word tits with those deep blue eyes and stretching the i so that it sounds just a little bit naughty, like she's begging you to touch her... Anyway, on the day of all the previous sightings, we walked into Psych together after talking outside for a while, and immediately bends over in her desk and dives into her bookbag, urgently rummaging through her papers. Her top came open to reveal a circus of quivering breast flesh battling a lacy, bright white bra that made her breasts look unbelievably peachy as they jiggled and jostled from the force. I muttered a few broken sentences during this time to make it seem like I was still talking to her and not staring, but looking back, it was probably screamingly obvious that I was staring (especially if anyone else noticed), and for as long as she continued rummaging and as violently as she shoved them around, I couldn't help but wonder if she was maybe getting a kick out of giving me a peek... This scenario repeated again later on when the two of us skipped out of class early to go and sit outside, but not with the same length and vigor of the first time. But I still appreciated it just the same...that is, if it was some sort of favor...
And these eight or so weren't even all the sightings I had that day. There's another one or two (or three...maybe, possibly four) I'm attempting to become a bit more familiar with (yes, all of them...but not like it sounds...well, not quite...I'll explain then)...I'll have reports on those early next week, after my last day(s) of class...