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Sometimes you see a girl and you know the search - it may even have been life-long - is over. That's how it was when I first saw Ashley. Just a photo you might think, but it was more than that. Smiling out at me from her secret garden, that beautiful dark hair cascading around her shoulders, the late afternoon sunlight glinting off the rather tasteful little gold chain around her neck, she needed to be loved, possessed, completely spirited away to distant realms of passion that she had never experienced and which I knew instinctively, only I could ever show her. Understand if you would, this was not a case of delusional self-appraisal, merely a statement that I somehow knew to be true.

Like the spring blossoms adorning the tree behind her, she would bloom for me, but like spring itself, the window of opportunity would be only brief. I wanted her, more than any girl I had ever met and after two marriages, leaving me to bring-up wall to wall children as a single parent, that believe me, was no idle commentary.

How then did I come by her photograph?

I am a writer in my spare time (as opposed to a professional writer I hasten to qualify) and have published amongst other basically non-profitable works, several net-based articles that might diplomatically be referred to as "of an erotic nature." By chance, Ashley stumbled across a few of my self-indulgent ravings and probably out of disbelief that anyone could freely compile such questionably risque literature, made contact with me and at my request, sent the aforementioned photograph.

That very night I resolved not only to meet her but to fulfil that which I knew without the least shadow of doubt had always been both our destinies. Convenient cop-out that it sounds, I have always believed it is souls which fall in love...not prescribed age-groups. If the opportunity looms out of the mist when you are seventy-two, then so be it... it was supposed to! What is better? to have been loved and cherished for a decade? or to suffer through a life-long marriage of misery and incompatibility which never resulted in a solitary day's purpose or togetherness? Damn it all, I should have been a clinical psychologist!

Now, living in different countries might be said to be problematic. Fact is, it is merely a setback, most likely orchestrated by a higher form of existence merely to test one's resolve. With the passage of time and the increasing availability of communications technology, I came to know her as I realised soon enough I had always known her - just beyond the fringes of my consciousness. We chatted on messenger services, exchanged emails, I even wrote stories for her. Initially, despite my relational philosophy, I deeply regretted our age-differences -- more from her perspective than mine. She was a young girl boarding the train at the first stop. I had been using the line since they shunted the Cherokee and Sioux off to their flinty reservations and usurped their lands to complete the railroad west.

But time is a wonderful thing. Emotions grow, hair-loss matters less. Goddamn it, what half-intelligent woman would knock a night back with Sean Connery? and he was bald at 30! Besides... from some angles and in some lights, the strands still hold their own.

It took a while to organise, but as the plane headed east across the Pacific Ocean and I sat gazing out at that blue-tinged finger-painting below, my mind returned to Ashley's photograph. I took it out, noticing yet more detail, the lightest application of an almost light-apricot mascara, a trace of lip gloss. She was just so lovely. Her eyes promised many things. Affection, warmth, loyalty and I hasten to add, a healthy degree of cheekiness. I recognised that little eccentricity from living with my three youngest daughters -- but that is definitely another story. I think she would understand if I confess now that physically I wanted her as much as I did emotionally and I knew with absolute certainty that I could deliver on all fronts that which she needed. I was bringing it home to her!

Where she lives is of no consequence to this story, merely that a combination of international and domestic flights delivered me to her doorstep as it were. I have though, omitted one significant detail -- she had been unaware of my coming, although in previous months I had made every promise to her that whatever it took, I would make the journey.

As I sat in my hotel suite quite late that afternoon I was in two minds as to whether I should call her cellphone then and there or wait until later in the evening. Having always been impulsive by nature -- I punched in the numbers.

"Doing anything tonight?" I whispered, upon hearing her answer.

She recognised the accent. "Noel?"

Even that one word completed a cycle. I wanted to hold her. Actually, I wanted a whole lot more.

"Yep, its me Ashley. Look I just wanted to say, I'm gonna be out of town all weekend, so I won't be able to chat with you much. Just a business trip which came up." She sounded disappointed. This was such exquisite torture!

"Yeah, well I'm staying at the "Cambridge" Hotel, so I'll maybe have a few minutes after meetings."

"The Cambridge?" she said, "That's a coincidence...we have one of those here."

"Yeah, I know," I teased her, "Corner of Bracken and Pacific Boulevarde isn't it?"

A brief pause. I felt her heart racing, heard her mind running the numbers. It wasn't really possible... was it?

"You're here aren't you?" she finally got out.

"Well to be honest," I said, "I am new in town and would have just liked to share dinner with someone."

"Give me an hour." She pleaded, all but breathless. "What? I replied. "I travel thousands of miles to see you and you expect me to wait another hour? How lame's that? Make it forty-five minutes or I'm calling the nearest escort agency!"

Not sure who hung-up the quickest.

I sat on the bed unpacking my few things. That beautiful long hair was shortly to be on-site, ready to have my hands running through it. You know what I was thinking of more than anything though? Just holding her -- even for a moment would have been worth the whole trip. I would feel her unique warmth and be able at last to kiss that soft little spot just beneath her hairline on the nape of her neck. It had waited such a long time. I wondered if she had delicately shaped ears -- soon I would find out.

If I said I was nervous, I would be lying. How could one be nervous about meeting a person they had come to know as well as themselves? What I was, is anxious! Anxious to complete something that had been set in motion years before ever either of us knew anything about it.

A gentle knock at the door offered up two possibilities. Either room-service or my photograph come to life. I really was sweating on that toasted ham sandwich and latte coffee.

Opening it, I could have done a multitude of things. Said "Hi Ashley, nice to see you, come in." Shaken her hand and commented on her good dress sense. Pushed past her, looking for room service down the hallway or at a pinch, shove her up against the door and rape her.

What I did do was to just look at her eyes -- that's all you ever need to do! She was as beautiful on the inside as I knew she would be. I hugged her, took her hand and brought her into my room. Then I noticed her good dress sense. Of course, having the great figure she did was a majorly good start. Rather nice, short and clingy little navy blue skirt, teamed with a plain but good quality beige top that was doing little to mask its extremely well-sculptured contents, themselves being cared for, it appeared, by an unobtrusive frilly light- colored bra. More on that later...definitely, much more on that!

She smelled of youth and promise. Her beautiful hair shone and danced unchecked across her shoulders each time she moved. For now, that little hot-spot around behind her neck was hidden -- surely it wasn't thinking I would never find it?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked in all innocence. Damn it, what would she have been thinking if I hadn't been?

"Why?" I replied, "I'll tell you exactly why Ashley. Not every day a treasured image turns up at your front door. You are one lovely and desirable girl and well, lets be honest, there's no way I'll be toning down the 'desire' part...sorry, can't change the programming!"

She smiled and hugged herself in that appealing and sexy little way that girls do instinctively and just looked up at me from the chair I had led her to.

"Anyway sweetheart," I continued, "This was first and foremost a dinner date. What say we go eat?"

The hotel's mini-bars may not have been that well- stocked on a world ranking but hey, the restaurant had cornered the market on steak fillets and champagne options. We supped elegantly even if the waiter was a tad on the limp-wrist side -- I think he had OD'ed on the cologne. Probably his sister's Estee Lauder.

Be easier to list the things we didn't discuss during that couple of hours than the topics we encroached upon. Graduating college to Al Queda, books to movies, Aussie beaches to life in the South. How disappointing I was thinking - not once did I hear Ashley mutter as she delicately fanned herself, "Ah do declare Noel, if'n you ain't got the cutest little old English accent there. Why fiddle-dee-dee, it just makes me want to take you back to school for show and tell." Gave me no chance to reply, "Well frankly Ashley, I just don't give a damn!

A couple of lemon crepes wound up the calorie-session admirably. By now, the champagne had seen to it that just being near her was arousing areas of my body I had sworn to keep in check. No-one told my testosterone I'm thinking.

For all that however, just being there with her was about as good as it gets. We took a late evening walk around the block and chatted more. It was so very relaxing and curiously as if we had shared such closeness many times before. I held her hand as we walked and so much passed through that two-way contact I could feel her needs, her apprehension as to where all this was leading. All I knew was that I wanted to go there.

Returning eventually to my room, we shared the last of the champagne and I asked her if she would care to watch a movie with me. There were so many on cable, took a while to settle on one - we chose SHREK 2.

Why is it, movies in hotels are so much better watching them from the bed. Answer...duh!

We actually watched a fair bit of this one...probably coz she really liked Antonio Banderas' "Puss 'n Boots"...Zorro with a cute tail! What really put paid to the adventures of Shrek though, was my finding that exact spot behind her neck.

Girls are so stupid. Kiss their necks on the right spot and they make hot little noises, and thrust their breasts forward which leaves you no choice but to re- locate your hands. In Ashley's case, it was well worth the relocation! Her breasts, even through her top, were so wonderfully warm and inviting, I had to cup them separately so as neither could complain of preferential treatment. Outsize mammaries are for me the ultimate turn-off -- Ashley had the most perfectly shaped and sized breasts, bridging the gap effortlessly between young teen and serial pole-dancer.

Kissing her was but sensory-overload. When you touch a girl's lips with your own and feel her wanting... needing... giving, it is such a turn-on and also a privilege that she is responding thus. I told her she was everything I had expected and more. I don't know if she believed me but I tried to explain that this wasn't why I had come, it was her. What we were doing was merely the result of her being the beautiful person I could feel -- metaphorically speaking.

There is such a delicate line between crass sexual groping and appreciative physical caress. It is a line most girls are aware of and one that the average man has no idea about. Most men look to be turned-on. The majority of girls crave the physical sharing. These two things are light-years apart and for the needful female there is the awesome stumbling block that men, when all is said and done, are simply adult boys. Most fifteen- year old girls in my experience are emotionally so far ahead of the average thirty-year old male...it's a joke.

Anyway, enough of the psych lesson. Ashley had slid down a little on the bed and was looking so damned comfy there. I was continuing to just gently fondle her while I kissed her neck and shoulders -- right alongside that bra strap that was driving me crazy. I think from memory, she was purring. SHREK was pretty much out of the picture when I made the bold, if not decisively forward decision to kiss her leg...just below the hem of her skirt.

Finding that no slap across the face was forthcoming, I repeated the gesture. Definitely a winner. She closed her eyes and wriggled a little. I stuck with the manual and very gently pushed her skirt up marginally. Still no slap and with those extra few inches, was able to kiss her now just that much higher up. Her eyes closed for longer periods and those cute little sighs were really most encouraging, I leant forward, pulled her to me and kissed her on the lips. She melted. It was so easy to tell her I wanted her and that I thought she was the most desirable girl on the planet right at that moment... why? Because it was true!

Easing her back down on the pillow, I just began to undo the buttons on her blouse. She was breathing heavily. I was lucky to even be breathing! As her pretty little bra was exposed, I just knelt there beside her and slipped a finger inside both cups, very gently teasing her nipples. So soft was she -- God had deservedly taken out "Best and fairest sculptor's award" for sure, that night back in 1984 when her mom had conceived her.

Her little top I slipped off and just looked down at her lying there...so vulnerable and soo hot. Slipping her bra straps down, I just eased her breasts free of her bra and she almost whimpered as her arms came up protectively.

Holding her hands now gently above her head, I lowered my lips to her breasts and kissed both. She squirmed - half in pleasure, half in anticipation I imagine. As my mouth took-in her entire right nipple, the sensation was for me exquisite. So erect now, she clung on to me as I suckled her, first one side, then the other.

I can still taste her, recall how aroused she was making me. I wanted to do so much to her, but this was to be no rushed performance, I wanted it all to last for ever. I turned her over on her tummy, and guided her hands upwards on to the pillow held them there. The scent of her hair was just so deeply intoxicating as I nuzzled her neck and whispered how much she meant to me right then. I began just gently massaging her shoulders and letting my hands caress her. We really didn't need that bra, so unhooking it I just disentangled the thing and tossed it across the bed. That left the more than pleasurable ability to kiss her right down her spine to her lower back.

Ashley was now in an almost constant state of wriggling as I was left with the almost meagre challenge of unzipping her skirt and sending it too, on its way. She gasped a little, which seeing as she was simply clad now in just a hot little pair of what might have been young girl's panties, was understandable really.

I had known from pics she had sent me months earlier that she had a really hot little bottom. The camera hadn't lied, they don't make them any hotter. At the risk of incurring her wrath, I simply took a hold of the elastic, pulled them down but half an inch or so and kissed the upper part of her beautiful curves. Now that did get a "nooooooooo" but I figure it was more for effect than anything else, especially as I did it again tugging it down even further and with no resistance that time -- just a gasp. I could have kissed her there all night.

It was now at the business end of the teasing! I turned her over once more and of course she gave a little girl yelp and covered her breasts protectively. Hot as that was, I had other plans and just leaned forward and kissed her hard on the front of her panties. Ashley forgot about her nipples and just gasping with surprise I suppose, awaited my next move.

She didn't have long to wait. Once again I kissed her right dead center, making sure the pressure was such that she would be in no doubt as to my intent. I love looking at a girl's eyes when she finally realises you are going to make love to her. There is in them, that wavering combination of sexual pleading, open vulnerability, arousal, submission and an acceptance of her immediate fate.

I gently but firmly tugged her knickers down, the sight of which just about rendered me catatonic. So hot and desirable was she I really could say nothing. I simply laid my hand on her delicately pronounced labia and idly slipped my finger between the lips. She was not far off volcanic. I was not far off deranged! I can't be sure now, so befuddled was I with the sight, but I think I asked some cretinous question like "may I lick you gently?" Whatever dumbo poser I asked her, she just nodded and I spent fully twenty minutes exploring her down there. I recall so much caressing, rubbing and digital stimulation, eventually one or both of us was certifiable.

"Make love to me," she whispered, at which point I felt like an emotionally retarded freshman. I did remember how to make love though. Divesting myself of my own pants was but a moment's work. I then simply pulled her legs up, parted them and holding her knees wide allowed her to take a hold of my erection which she guided to the promised land. I wanted this to last. Again, I cannot repeat too often, the eyes are the windows into the soul.

If you want to know what's going on with a girl when you make love to her -- look into her eyes. Doesn't matter what she says, what hot little noises she is making -- that's just the icing on the cake, look at her and feel the passion.

That's exactly what Ashley and I shared that night -- pure unadulterated passion. What may or may not have happened in both our lives...before and after, cannot vary the consequences of that evening. From my first very gentle thrusts inside her, which elicited both moans and a need on my part to take her deeper, right through to my driving so hard into her that she clung to me, a female completely on-heat... in all that time, I never lost sight of who she was and the respect I had for her existence. An 'orgasm' underplays descriptively and quantitatively what we reached. We "touched" and that, if you can manage it, is the highest pleasure attainable. The moment stays with you because you realise you got to somewhere special... with someone special!

The credits for Shrek 2 were long over, when the haze lifted. I lay beside her, holding her hand while with my right hand, I traced around the outline of her very damp pussy, watching the steady trickle of my semen as it leaked from her and ran down the inside of her leg. I allowed a small amount to gather at the end of my finger and then raising it to her breast just rubbed it gently across her still very erect nipple. She put her hand over mine and we both cupped her breast like proud new parents.

Having extolled the virtues of true love-making and having endeavored to describe accurately just how meaningful was that first union, there comes a time inevitably when a girl likes to be fucked silly. For Ashley, that time came not long afterwards. I knew the symptoms. A dull red glint in the eyes that grows in intensity. Provocative body movements, especially with their hot little hips and asses, a sense if you like that they want it rougher this time... more heat less bleat. They turn up the sex, turn down the flirting. You know immediately that what's needed here is a cock as far up their pussy as you can get it and from any position you care to name... whatever is hottest! In Ashley's case, on all fours with her bottom headed skywards definitely did the trick. Nor was I gentle this time...so convincing was she -- even I wanted to rape her senseless.

To say, I took her hard would be to understate the moment. I "gave it to her" is more the key phrase here. It must have answered the call well enough -- I remember that hot little smile as I rolled her on her back afterwards and how she clutched at her pussy with both hands, seeking probably to stem the seeping tide.

She stayed the night of course and never have I spent a more loving evening. Cuddled up behind her in her "S" bend, I nuzzled her neck all night, lightly caressed her back and hips. Whispered all kinds of loving nonsense in her ears -- much of which she would never have heard, being asleep soon afterwards. Sometimes during the darkness she would turn to me and I would suckle her until I almost passed out with contentment myself. Even asleep, I could make out her sweet smile. Just once I was able to spread her legs while she was on her back and penetrating her so carefully, I worked at my mission until I filled her, while she slept unknowing of the enormous pleasure she was giving me.

I knew long before the breaking dawn that my life would never be complete without her.


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  • Anonymous said:
    That is one of the better stories I've read on this sight. Your work seem to be of the gentler kind, more loving and more anticipation. I loved it.
  • Anonymous said:
    Now that is a good story!