Remembering That German Girl That Liked Penthouse

I'll tell this story of when I was in college, in the last century when I was young. The weather was bad, cold and rainy and I stepped into this little restaurant on the edge of campus for a hot cup of chocolate. The waitress was nice, we were just the two of us, and she sat down with me and talked while I warmed up with the hot chocolate.

She was from Germany, had married a GI who was stationed there but he had left and she had to get a job. Her English was decent but she did have a slight accent, once you knew she was German. She wasn't pretty, not in the conventional sense, and I noticed she had a scar along her jaw line. She was wearing one of those German Octoberfest dresses, which push the boobs up and out. She had more than enough boobs for that. Not that I looked.

When I was ready to leave she told me where she lived (a trailer park not far from campus), which lot number and her phone number. The weather had gotten worse, it was sleeting and cold and windy and no one was in the restaurant. I told her she should shut the door and close up and I would take her home (her option was the bus). When we got to her trailer there was an old beat up car which didn't work and she had a roommate. She invited me in, it was worse than the college student set ups, it was obviously very poor.

She asked me to sit down and offered me a magazine to read, a Penthouse, while she changed. When she came out she sat beside me so we could run through the pictures together. It was obvious she knew the magazine from cover to cover. She showed me which girls she thought were good looking and she was very hung up on the Penthouse Pet of the month, which had frontal nudity. She kissed her finger and put it right there, on the girl's bush, right where her lips slide between her legs. She told me she wanted to kiss her right there, and just as quick she asked me if I liked to kiss a girl there.

She stood up and got undressed, standing completely naked, and turned around so I could see her, and she sat down to go through the rest of the edition. I noticed while we were looking at the pictures she was twirling her nipple between her fingers. She had several Penthouse magazines, but I needed to go. She got upset, pouting, and asking me if I didn't like her. I was standing and she was sitting and she leaned forward and grabbed my jeans, and got my zipper down and undid the belt and button and she started to suck my dick. Once hard, she laid back against the couch and spread her legs. Not having much of a choice we fucked on the couch, and sat there naked so we could look at more Penthouse magazines.

It was only then that we went back to her room, the bed unmade and obviously shared with the other girl. She wanted to fuck again, only this time she wanted me to go down on her. We ended up fucking again and while I lay on the bed she went and ran a washcloth trough hot water and came back to wash my dick and balls. She talked a little, I asked her about the other girl and she told me that is why her husband had moved on. So you like girls? Sometimes, was her answer. But yes, she liked this girl.

I saw her off and on during the years I had left at college. She was always willing to get naked and have sex. I did my thing for her, I got her car running and fixed some things around the trailer (which turned out belonged to her roommate). Her roommate was nice enough, she knew about me and was always polite. When she was there we didn't have sex. I guess an unwritten rule. But now, 50 years later, I sometimes think about her, her name was Ursula, I wonder what happened to her.