I thought I heard my name so I turned around. Sure enough, there it was again, “Hey, Rodneeey”. I saw Conchita, who would rather be called Connie, waving to me. We’d had a relationship, if you can call banging four or so times a week a “relationship”.

A boyfriend had moved in about six months ago and I think she would still have “gotten naked”, one of her indirect ways of referring to fucking, with me but he was the jealous type.

When I got close she asked, “Can we talk?”, another euphemism for “I want to fuck”.

My response was, “Are you sure?”

“He’s been gone for a week and I’m lonely.”

I followed her into the apartment, closed the door, and she was all over me. She was the best kisser I’ve ever found. Clothes came off quickly and she rode me right there on the floor. I got her to shriek and shake twice before I dumped a week’s worth of cum in her hungry slot.

She popped us each a beer. “What brought that on?” I asked.

Ignoring my question, she had one of her own, “You were good at getting naked before but now you’re even better. What happened?”

I took a swig and a good look at her brown body before I replied. She had long black hair that came down over round firm tits. Her waist was smaller than most Hispanic women in their mid-twenties and her hips nicely proportioned. Thick, densely curled pubes were neatly trimmed.

“There’s a married woman in the next building that likes younger men. She’s taught me a lot. I gather I’m far from her first student.”

“Are you still getting naked with her?”

“Only about once a week now. She has a new student too. By the way, I asked you a question.”

She thought for a moment, “Oh, yeah. I’ve missed you a lot and wished Jed weren’t so possessive. It’s important that you know I don’t love him. I’d never have asked you today if I did. When I met him I was all out of money and he had it. So I kind of have to do what he wants. Lately though it has been getting more difficult. He’s getting a bit strange with the stuff he wants to do with me.”

I reached out to her hand. She scooted closer and seemed to really appreciate the gesture. “Like what?” I asked, as curious as I was concerned.

“He ties me up, or wants to piss on me. A week before he left he had a party with two of his buddies. They all got drunk and took turns on top of me. I am feeling like a whore but maybe that’s just what I am.” She was near tears, I could tell.

“Oh, Connie. I didn’t know. You’re too good to be called a whore. I think you are just doing what you have too to get along. That’s not ‘bad’.”

She put her arms around me and one hand dropped down to my crotch and began fondling my cock. I kissed her and we went horizontal again. This time I was as gentle and loving as I could be, in spite of images of her being gangbanged that went through my mind. Her climax brought real tears this time and she held me close.

I left her sleeping and went to do what I’d set out for a couple of hours earlier. When I returned I knocked on her door. When she answered I told her to get dressed up for dinner in an hour.

The restaurant was nicer than she had ever been in, I was informed. Her manners were good and she was feeling much better about herself. Of course I got invited “in” for dessert. In the afterglow of the third good piece in eight hours, I was wondering what I could do for this needy young woman.

I was almost graduated with a software engineering degree. Not much money at the moment but some great job offers on the table already. All would require relocation. Most would even pay for that.

Connie and I had one more day of getting naked before Jed returned and we made the best of it. We agreed to keep in touch but very carefully. He checked her cell phone so we had avoided using it. We arranged a drop point for notes to arrange rendezvous while he was at work. She didn’t have a job to get out to but had a habit of going for walks which could include stops at my nearby apartment.

The first time we got naked after his return she apologized, when I was balls deep, “I had to do, you know, when he returned.”

“I know. Just focus on me right now, OK?”

She sure did, squeezing me with arms and pussy as hard as she could.

Two surreptitious “getting nakeds” later she uttered softly, in the heat of orgasm, something in Spanish that sure sounded like “I love you”. I was feeling some growing feelings for this waif, but I wasn’t sure it was more than compassion.

A couple of nights later there was an insistent knock on my door in the wee hours. It was Connie, barely wrapped in a cheap and worn bathrobe. She was clearly upset.