If I’m going to tell this story, I guess the first thing you’ll want to know is what all the girls looked like, how big their boobs were, how many pounds of each of them weighed, and whether they were a size 6 or a size 12 or a size 8, and all that other stuff. But frankly I don’t know. What I mean is that frankly, I don’t see what difference it makes whether the girl was an A cup or a D cup, or whether she was thick or thin, or what her ass looked like when she walked around with only her underwear on. Besides, I’ve never been too good with measurements, and I didn’t bother to check the tag on their bras to see what their cup size was. If those things even have tags. I don’t know.
What I will tell you though is that the first girl in the story was a very good friend of mine, that we’d known each other since kindergarten, but that we’d never been that close until high school, when we really started hanging out quite a lot, with me going to her place to hang out in her room all the time. Then when it was time for college we both decided to go to the same university, and that’s when the story takes place: during our first year in a new city, during our freshman year.