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Bosom Buddies Epilogue

by bosombuddies 04/02/13


The ugly truth of any long-distance relationship is, it sucks. Much as your young heart may try to romanticize all the effort and the sacrifice involved, at the end of the day you're still miserable. Eventually, you start to feel a bit like the widow who lives out her days celibate, still in love with her dead husband.

It was the hardest thing I've ever done.

Liz and I poured every meager cent we earned into long-distance phone calls and plane fares, but, more often then not, I found myself romantically committed to a voice on a telephone (true, that voice belonged to a girl with an adorable smile and huge, luscious tits, but knowing that only added to my frustration).

With all our combined income, we were still only able to afford to see each other for one weekend each month. You'd think these occasional visits would be filled with non-stop passion and amorous euphoria, but that's never how they turned out. Sure, there was "the good stuff"—the sex, the cuddling, pillow talk, romantic adventure—but each weekend tryst was always underscored by a certain degree of disappointment; of never being quite as perfect as what we'd built up in our minds over the preceding weeks.

And then there were the fights. Like clockwork, each of these supposed-to-be-blissful cross-country weekend visits inevitably included one huge, awful argument between Liz and I, carried out with the same pent-up passion as our lovemaking.

I guess relationships need a certain degree of conflict to survive, just as they need tenderness and affection. It's an essential part of the recipe. But, while normal couples got the privilege of balancing these emotional necessities with a more mild day-to-day commitment, our long-distance relationship meant we had to pack everything into a tiny, potent capsule; more like a relationship suppository, taken once a month.

Some side effects may include: Depression, jealousy, confusion, loneliness, doubt, and frequent masturbation.

It also didn't help that there were so many goddamn gorgeous girls running around my coed dorm in their pajamas, their perky, 19-year-old breasts bouncing braless beneath those too-tight tee shirts. There was one girl in particular—Jessica Hernandez—who made my life a living hell: long legs, tiny waist, dark Latin hair that reached down to her ass, and absolutely SPECTACULAR tits. Skinny everywhere except the bust, that girl was the definition of "top-heavy."

And she was totally devoid of modesty. Each night, Jessica would stroll down the hallway between her room and the showers—a route that took her right past my door—wearing nothing but a frayed bath towel.

Still, all that was manageable. Nothing five minutes and a fistful of Kleenex couldn't solve. No, the thing that made Jessica so horrible was the fact that she and I had so much in common. We liked the same movies, read the same books, shared more than half of our classes, and she was a barista at my favorite off-campus café.

She was perfect girlfriend material. If I'd made a pass at her, the awful truth was that she'd probably have gone out with me. And I had to see her EVERY DAY.

On the other side of the country, Liz was going through a similar ordeal with some cute guy she met in her "human sexuality" class, of all things. I don't imagine things were any easier on her.

Liz and I turned to Stephanie and Simon for support. They were struggling with the long-distance thing as well, and their commiseration via phone or AIM (yes, we chatted over AIM back then), was my only lifeline on those lonely nights when I was either so lonely or so horny I thought I would go insane.

Then they broke up.

They broke up! After all that drama our senior year of high school, Simon and Stephanie couldn't last just one semester apart. I guess I shouldn't have been so surprised, given how difficult things were for Liz and I. But it didn't much help our own resolve, seeing our best friends give up on their relationship.

Alas, Simon and Stephanie went their separate ways, finding new loves and lovers. By the time we were all halfway through our second semester of college, it was plainly obvious to both Elizabeth and myself that our friends were happier for having split up.

On an otherwise unspectacular night, while Liz and I were chatting on the phone, she whispered, "We haven't had a chance to really experience college, have we? I don't mean hooking up with other people, I mean—"

"I know what you mean."

No matter how many new and exciting experiences we'd had since starting college, we both missed each other so deeply and so constantly that we couldn't let ourselves enjoy any of it. Our long-distance relationship did more than just keep us from getting laid, it was something that weighed down on every aspect of our lives.

Exhausted, we both grudgingly agreed to take a break. We weren't "breaking up," exactly, we were just clearing out the storm clouds. We needed to know what college was like without a long-distance relationship, before we could really know for sure whether we were making the right choice.

I had a lot of trouble studying for my midterms that week.

In a daze, I went out to grab a coffee and, as luck would have it, found Jessica Hernandez working at the café. I was enough of a regular that Jessica didn't even bother with taking my order anymore, she just poured me a tall black coffee the second I walked in the door (it was all I could ever afford.)

Jessica saw the ragged look on my face when I came to collect my drink and asked, "Hey Ian, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired."

I deliberately tried to be nonchalant about it. I was in too weird a mood to go fishing for pity hugs, even when those hugs would mean feeling my favorite barista's big, soft boobs squeezing up against me.

"Are you sure?"

I wasn't. And the more I tried to avoid staring at her chest, the more I felt my resolve wane. Come to think of it, why the hell didn't I deserve a few big-breasted pity hugs? I'd had a tough week, and damn if she didn't look terrific in the tight white polo shirt they made the baristas wear.

"Actually, me and Liz decided to take a break."

"Oh no!" she ignored her current customer to race around the bar and embrace me, thrusting the full weight of her tits against my chest to cushion the impact. Yep, that hit the spot. For the first time since I'd started college, I allowed myself to actually enjoy being attracted to another woman.

Once she finished hugging me, Jessica whipped me up some kind of huge, frothy drink I couldn't even pronounce, much less afford.

"Here, on the house."

I returned to my dorm room to study, but an hour later I found myself distracted by the sound of someone pacing back and forth in the hallway outside my door. Happy to take a break from my books, I took a look through the peep-hole and saw Jessica—still wearing her work clothes—standing in the hallway outside. She lifted her fist, as if to knock, but quickly decided against it and started back towards her room—

Then she stopped, turned back, and returned to my door. Then she left. Then she came back. Then she left again. I'd spent my senior year of high school hanging out almost exclusively with girls, and apparently I still had no idea how their brains worked.

When Jessica finally returned to my door, I took the initiative and opened it.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"Yeah! I just—my roommate's gone for the weekend, and I know you're having a rough time so I thought I'd just offer to talk. If you need to. But then I thought, it'd be weird, and it's not really my place, and you probably just want your space or whatever, right? I'm sorry, this was a bad idea."



I gave her a hug.

We spent the rest of the evening lounging around her dorm discussing what was going on with me and my "sort-of-sort-of-not" girlfriend. Sensing that I needed something a little stronger than coffee to get me through the night, Jessica grabbed a bottle of cheap, room-temperature vodka from under her bed and we took turns downing shots until we were buzzing and silly.

"What about you?" I finally asked. "We've been talking and talking about my love life, how are things with you?"

"Honestly, the past couple nights, it's been kind of... frustrating."


We both flinched as something heavy bumped against the wall on the other side.

Thunk. Thunk.

There it was again. As if her neighbors were rearranging the furniture at two o'clock in the morning. Jessica giggled knowingly into her vodka.


It was a woman's voice, coming from the neighboring dorm room. A low, ecstatic moan.

"Ohh yeah..." Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Jessica burst out laughing. The grunts and moaning coming through the wall grew faster and fiercer, and I admit there was a certain comic desperation in it, punctuated by the sound of the bed jamming repeatedly against the wall.

"Is this what you mean by 'frustrating?" I whispered.

Jessica nodded, cupping a hand over her mouth to muffle the laughter. "They go at it like every night! Sometimes at four or five in the morning! Not only do they wake me up, but sometimes the sound of it gets me all turned-on and I can't even go back to sleep!"

In the other room, the two noisy lovers finally reached their obnoxiously loud climaxes, shouting, "Oh god! Oh god! Yeahhhhh..."

I looked down at Jessica and we both cracked up. I nonchalantly rested a pillow on my lap, hoping to hide the fact that my pants had suddenly gotten a bit tighter around the crotch.

"What are you doing to my roommate's pillow?" she asked suggestively.

"Busted," I laughed.

"Oh, and I'm not?" she laughed, gesturing at the beautifully plump pair of nipples poking into the fabric of her white polo shirt.

"Dammit, why do you have to do that?"

"Do what?"

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