I'm still not too clear on exactly when I met her, although I know it was at a
party. I had seen her many times before, though...Sunday mornings without num
ber. I would get wasted Saturday nights and go to breakfast downtown for the
$1.99 special...all you could eat and coffee too. I noticed her there, but soon
accepted her as a regular. We were a weird crowd there, at least on Sundays,
and she looked vaguely timid. She had short hair, almost punk, but relaxed.
She was rather short, maybe an inch or two below me, and with a thin but
cute face that had deep-set, mysterious looking eyes. She was usually dressed
in painted sneakers, long skirts, and a faded red felt jacket that smelled
somewhat of salt sea air when she walked by.
At the party, though, she looked different. My mother had made me come, and
I had been right in the middle of a mescaline trip by the time we arrived.
She told me to mingle and look cheerful.
When I saw her, I was struck by how alike we looked. We both had haircuts
that would look more in place in a New York club than at a fancy dress
party, and the elegant clothes we were wearing we didn't look comfortable in.
One concession, though -- we were both still wearing painted tennis shoes.
She saw me and my shoes, and her face lit up with recognition. She walked
over and we just stood there for a minute or two, smiling. She finally spoke.
"I remembered you from breakfast."
"So did I. You don't look too happy to be here."
"You don't either. Someone forced you here, I'll bet."
"Exactly. My dad almost made me wear a wig, but my mom talked him out of it."
"Lucky you. Is there someplace private we could talk? I'm not that great with
crowds."
"Yeah, right out here on the patio."
We walked out onto the deck, and stood there overlooking the pool and garden.
We talked for a bit more, and I found out that she was almost 20. It shocked
me a bit, for her height and all. (I was in 10th grade at the time.) She
was an accelerated junior in college, and had to come home every now and then
so "Daddy can show me off. But he wasn't too proud of me this year, with my
new haircut and all."
*************
The party ended, but not before we had promised to see each other at breakfast
the following Sunday. I went home actually happy for the first time in a while.
Sunday morning came around, but she didn't show up. I wasn't too concerned, but
I did tell the owner to watch for her. I went back home to lie around for a
while but I hadn't been in the house ten minutes when the phone rang.
It was Lisa. She had found my number in my purse that I left at her house, and
she was scare. Her father had finally reached his limit, it seemed, and locked
her in the house until "she learns some manners!"
She had gotten out and downtown but she knew he'd be looking for her there.
I immediately invited her over for the rest of the day, or at least until her
parents calmed down. I gave her directions, unlocked the back door, and
realized I hadn't taken a shower yet. I got into the shower and tried to make
itas quick as possible.
When Lisa arrived, I was just stepping out. I wrapped myself in a towel, dried
my hair, and went downstairs. She looked miserable and I realized this was more
serious than I had thought.
"Come on, relax. You're safe here. Want some breakfast?"
"I had some downtown, thanks. But I do need some coffee."
"coming up."
I went to make coffee. I was a bit self-satisfied that a grown woman
(practically, anyway)
was relying entirely on me. It made me feel just a wee bit smug.
Back in the living room. She was lying on the couch with a sad stare. I had to
do something to snap her out of it. "Oh, it can't be that bad, can it?"
"You don't know. My father is a stereotypical bloated capitalist. He doesn't
think about anything but money and his job. I don't know how my mother put up
with him this long." Her voice was rising and getting shakier, I took her hand
and held it firmly, not saying anything, just trying to get her to calm down.
I felt a surge of sympathetic emotion for her and gently squeezed her hand. She
began to calm down, it seemed.
We just sat there for a while, not saying anything, just reaffirming our trust
in one another. Then she looked up and smiled weakly.
"I bet I'm a mess. Can you let me have the shower?"
"Sure, go ahead. I'll be downstairs for a while."
I went downstairs and realized i had forgotten my books. Going back up the
stairs, I remembered there was a skylight to the bathroom. My curiosity was
aroused, and I quietly arranged myself so I could see all.
Soon she came into view, and began to draw the water. She stripped off her
clothes, and my eyes widened at the sight of her firm, supple body. It amazed
me how her breasts looked so modest when covered, yet now they were tilted
slightly, with small untanned marks near the center. Her smooth belly sloped
downwards toward a light blonde film of hairs, accentuated by her long legs. My
breathing became deeper as I watched her climb into the tub and stretch out.
As she bathed, she relaxed and seemed to almost fall asleep. As if in a dream,
her hands moved up and began to caress her breasts. A small sigh escaped her
lips, and I watched, fascinated.
Soon she had caused the nipples to stand out, and a deep flush suffused the
flesh of her chest. Her stomach muscles trembled as her questing hands moved
down, smoothing out over her, and slowly approaching the valley between her
legs.
Almost of their own volition, my own hands began to imitate her actions. I
couldn't have looked away from the scene if I had wanted to. Her long graceful
fingers had reached the sacred spot, and were gently plucking and sliding over
the outer lips, as if in preparation for the descent.
My body was alternately perspiring and trembling. Never had I been so aroused,
or taken so long to reach my peak. I shifted myself slightly to get a better
view of her actions.
She drew one hand back up, it seemed, to taste the musky juices she produced.
As the hand at her crotch began to descend, so did my own. Our fingers were
buried to the hilt, forcing the flesh aside, intruding into our depths. I held
back a moan as I watched the scene unfold before me with excitement that I felt
could not be contained.
Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, and her mouth open. Her tongue
escaped momentarily and licked her lips. She looked every inch a goddess as her
hands kept up their slow, steady rhythm. Low sounds were coming from her mouth
now, as her leg muscled tensed and relaxed alternately. The hand at her pussy
began to slide with increasing speed, varying the strokes and speed, but always
with the same goal in mind -- total pleasure.
My panties were discarded on the floor, long since soaked with my own liquids.
My own hand matched her motions, nipping at the erect bud of my love button,
stroking and plucking the frilly outer lips. My attention was abruptly drawn
back to her as her cries became more audible, and her hips rocked gently up
with an ever-increasing need.
It showed more than ever on her face now, the need to come, the unbearable
tension that had to be released. Her fingers slid in and out now with
undisguised pleasure now, warming to their task, and making her sigh.
My hand motions matched her own, and I felt the selfsame need in my own body. I
gave a slight thrust to my hips, and felt my fingers reach even deeper, hit a
spot that made me quiver. Our bodies moved in the same rhythm, and hands
caressed the same spots.
Suddenly, it came upon me. I almost groaned in surprise as the sweetness of it
trust itself on me. I could feel my face contorting, and my cunt muscles
contract violently, forcing my fingers halfway out of my body. I forced my eyes
open and saw her, her pelvis gyrating, ecstasy overtaking her as it did me. My
body shook and my mind spun as the loveliness of it overwhelmed me, washed me
up and over until I wanted to cry.
Slowly, I came back down. I lay there on the carpet, one hand still at my
crotch, thinking of how I would approach her.
--
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