("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._
`6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`)
(_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-'
_..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,'
(((' (((-((('' ((((
K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
_________________________________________
Scroll down to view text
--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2005. Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------
'F' Is For Female
by Peter Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)
***
"Fuck me verbally," she said. Over the years I have
been asked, occasionally coerced, to perform various
tasks, deeds of valor or otherwise. Some I have elected
to fulfill, others not, for reasons ranging from
personal preference to circumstantial inability. Never
though have I been asked, up until this week at least,
to fuck someone verbally. That isn't to say I can't or
even necessarily that I don't wish to – it is simply a
dynamically unusual request. (MF, erotic, rom)
***
Now when it comes to fucking people, one has to look at
the deed firstly in its most basic and in actuality,
rather comical form. Typically, one can expect to find
one (at least) rampant male, hormones in free-flow
having cornered, subdued or in the worst-case scenario
– paid for a women, in whatever circumstances have
drawn the two together. H
aving most usually removed her clothing, or if patently
desperate, simply her panties, he then pinions her to
the floor, bed, wall, rear car seat or chandelier and
inserts, with varying degrees of indignity, his vastly
over-rated penis into that natty little lipped sac
between her legs.
Grunting, jerking, slobbering – more often than not all
three, he will then rut away with completely
uninhibited delight seeking to reach a chemical plateau
at which point his DNA-soaked sperm jam up and jelly
tight before crossing that bridge at a brisk pace, to
the woman's ovulation-freeway. It is this transitional
period, the male finds vastly to his liking.
During the "fucking phase" men are not known for their
literate dialog. How many other ways after all, can one
express the notion "Oh yeah hun," "Take it deep babe,"
or "Ride my dick slut," without resorting to laughable
clinicisms such as, "I say Julie, would you mind
awfully if I shoved my rather engorged penis way up
inside your devilishly hot vagina for just a few
minutes?"
So immediately you can see we're talking here a whole
new creative ball-game. When a girl says to you "Fuck
me verbally please," she is wanting "communicative
purpose," "depth of shared emotion," "experiential
guidance," at the very least, some innovative and
passionate appreciation of her femininity.
So too is she entitled to that.
SEX VIA THE WRITTEN WORD:
The quintessential chat-room opening "What color
panties you wearing luv?" might be seen as an example
of this. In fact, all this ever achieves is to confirm
the moronic status of the male participant. Think about
it! Its hardly going to turn the girl on is it? – she
already knows what color knickers she has on. It's like
most every other aspect of male sexual behavior –
geared principally to the achieving of his own
gratuitous satisfaction. Egocentric endplay in other
words.
With regards therefore to the young lady who made the
rather poignant plea for me to "fuck her verbally,"
this is the very least I can do. Now whilst this is in
the way of a personal reply and I composed this for her
specifically because of the wonderful person she is,
I'm sure she will not mind if I add the comment that
what I write has relevance to every other girl on the
planet, uniquely desirable as every one is in their own
way. No argument about that.
If it were possible, I would be there with all of you
and I would love you all equally. If when you have read
this and hopefully having followed my (deliberately)
obscurely referenced byplays at various intervals, you
then close your eyes, you will realise that in fact I
am with you. I always was!
*
How exquisite you are! Have you ever really looked and
realised the privilege it has been to be born female?
Tonight, I will make you more aware of this fact than
ever you have been. I will bring you to to the gates of
your own temple.
How did we arrive at this confluence in our lives? It
doesn't really matter does it? Merely that I am here
and that I want to share a gift with you that so few
understand, let alone respect.
Ahead of anything, I want you simply to be aware of
your body as you read. Feel how snug your beautiful
breasts are cupped in that little bra. If you
concentrate enough you will be able to feel your
nipples, even as you breathe. Besides their naturally
intended use, they utterly define your femininity. If
you feel like caressing them, please do.
Imagine soft lips, whether your child's, mine or a
future lover's, drawing down softly in what is
ultimately, merely a quest for comfort. A flared memory
recalled fleetingly. The protective instinct and
cradled safety of a mother's arms down through the
ages.
Even at this early stage, the slightest of
physiological changes are taking place in your body.
Besides the noticeable swelling at the base of your
nipples caused by blood transfer, the imperceptible
increase to your pulse-rate and the delicate flush
resident now in your cheeks, you know even without the
confirmation of touch, that within, moves are most
definitely afoot to facilitate my participation.
Marginally unsure of exactly what is to happen, you sit
there gazing at me – a little girl of eight, a nervous
teenager, an adult female on the verge of a completely
new discovery....a pastiche of all these. The only two
things you sense with any conviction – that you are
ultimately safe and that you want what it is that I
possess. The key to your complete sexual fulfillment. I
know not how or why I came thus equipped, merely that I
did and that much like the full-moon itself,
circumstances inevitably fall into a precise alignment
that was set in motion long before either of us were
born.
I want you to feel warm. I need you to feel wanted. You
desire my intimacy just as much as I desire yours.
Simply looking at you is enough of a treat. I notice
the little things. The tiny smile playing about your
lips betraying in part your nervousness as well as your
fully understandable pride in your birthright. It
promotes also just a hint of flirtatious tease. I know
it, you know it! The small lock of hair you keep
unconsciously flicking away from your forehead, as if
it matters! Your pretty feet, one shuffling atop the
other now that you have felt sufficiently relaxed to
give those shoes a miss. That you may or may not have
loved another before matters but little. This is
tonight. With me you are the breathless,
incontrovertibly pure virgin you always were and in my
experience always will be.
Your pupils dilate slightly as I kneel in front of you
and take your hands in my own. There are so many things
I could say, but words are superfluous. You know how I
feel, you can see that in my own pupils.
My eyes caress you – from the curve of your breasts, a
hint of which you quite deliberately permitted by your
choice of top, to the flair of your hips and the hidden
recesses between your thighs. You are not offended by
my gaze as there is nothing to be offended by. Never
was my glance lustfully motivated, simply steeped in
appreciation and wonderment of so perfect a creation.
Some of what I feel, you sense and instinctively your
hand rises to your own breasts before you realise what
you are doing. Swiftly you drop your hand back in your
lap.
Even as the blush rises in your cheeks, I gently take a
hold of your hand and raising it with fixed
deliberation, replace it beneath your right breast. I
encourage you to once again cup yourself and in fact
cover your hand with my own. Together we begin to
caress the softness that God has given to you and you
let slip the slightest gasp. Watching as you rub
yourself softly at the behest of my own hand I am
totally aroused myself. More than anything I want now
to suckle you and to draw your nipples between my own
lips. How easy it would be......and how ill-timed.
Edging closer, I lay you gently back in the chair and
very gently take a hold of both your legs some six
inches or so below the knee. I feel, rather than hear
the sharp intake of breath and the momentary expression
of concern that flits across your pretty face. You make
no move to either sit-up or stop me however and I am
happy for the trust I know you feel. Inclining my head,
I kiss your knees and am aware immediately of your
pleasured wriggling. Making deliberate eye contact, I
pull apart your legs but the slightest angle.
Sitting there, you can hardly believe the moisture that
is gathering in the main assembly area. The cotton
fabric you know is now quite wet and you are
embarrassed perhaps that I may soon make that very same
discovery. Casting a momentary glance down your bra you
are stunned additionally by the quite visible effect
the escalating arousal factor is having on your
nipples. This of course is an opportune moment to take
a gentle hold of them yourself now and to further
stimulate them.
Parting your legs ever wider, I can see now the silky-
smooth skin of both thighs and the event horizon at
which they disappear beneath the rather tasteful little
pair of knickers curving down with such promise in my
direct line of vision. I kiss the inside of your thigh
as your increasing angle of incidence causes the
hemline to ride ever higher. One can readily forget the
square on the hypotenuse. It's the sum of the angles on
the other two sides that interests me.
I slip one hand up to the limit of my vision. So
inherently sexy is the feel of a girl's panties,
knowing the prize they contain, that for a moment I am
lost in my own little world although I do not fail to
hear that delightful little gasp as you shuffle in the
chair, instinctively wanting to push down between your
legs yourself.
I begin to set up an intense vertical manipulation,
forcing the soft and quite obviously damp material well
between the folds of those protective lips. Visually,
this action is as stimulating as it must be welcomingly
tactile from your viewpoint. You are quite unable to
prevent the embyonic moan that now finds its way to the
surface.
It is the right moment to tell you how much I love
being with you and despite my seemingly disrespectful
actions, I hold you in incorruptible respect. I hope
that you believe me.
It differs of course from occasion to occasion but
there comes an instant during any sort of foreplay,
that signifies the point of no return has been reached.
It may be the very first kiss, the first fumble in the
back of a car - something as innocuous as being kissed
tenderly on the neck just below the hairline. In our
case, it was simply meeting. No way back from that
eventuality.
The chair has seen-out its usefulness. I stand and
offering my hand, take yours gently. You know where I
must lead you.
Inviting you to lay down on the bed with me, I direct
you to lie on your tummy. Typically female, you
secretly enjoy my emotionally controlling aspect here.
You know exactly how vulnerable you now appear in that
position and it excites you. You wriggle slightly –
nature at play - merely ensuring a continued biological
interest.
Patting your bottom merely kick-starts the hormonal
flow – for both of us! Before you can even think "I
wish he'd stop being so damn genteel about this," I
begin to push up that inviting little skirt once more.
At the point your panties are fully exposed, I think
that gasp we just heard may have been mine! So hot do
you look. So hot do you feel! Playfully, I sit astride
you near the base of your spine and then slip my hands
beneath your shoulders until I am able to cup both your
breasts. No physiotherapy ever devised was ever thus so
jointly therapeutic. You murmur as you hold your arms
outstretched.
"Ohhh that is so nice Noel!"
Considering this possibly one of the greatest
understatements of modern times, I nuzzle your lovely
neck and just whisper how much I have always wanted
you. You turn your head slightly – enough let's say for
me to be able to lean across and kiss you soundly on
the lips.
I'm not even thinking of you at that moment I realise.
In fact, my mind goes back to my being twelve years
old. Ages and continents apart, in quite another time,
I remember suddenly poor old Mrs. Cherry. I don't even
know who she was. Simply an unutterably old lady –
completely infirmed and in her nineties. My Aunt had
taken her in and cared for her many years earlier. She
was in her seventies herself then.
Once in a while I would ride my bicycle the few miles
from my home to my Aunt's house where I would cut her
tiny back-lawn - little more than hack-it really, with
a pair of pretty blunt shears she used to hang in the
rotted old garden shed out back. She always gave me
half-a-crown...insisted I should have it, although I
had only gone there to help her, as she had severe back
trouble and could not crouch down for long periods.
Never did I fail to look-in and see Mrs. Cherry in her
darkened annex as she lay on that decrepit old bed. The
little room smelled of urine and approaching death, and
yet she would take my hand and smile at me. I loved
her. This one afternoon after I had done what I could
with the grass, I was ushered in to her room of faded
hopes and dreams. I looked down as she slowly sought my
hand and near blind now, pressed something into it. It
was a two-shilling piece. No gift ever carried greater
sentiment.
She died that weekend and it is only now for some
reason that I realise, that but for the overlapping
vagaries of time itself, it could so easily have been
her lying on this bed awaiting my touch and maybe some
physical evidence of the love I hold. Maybe you are
her, and we are destined to cross paths for all
eternity.
The memories upset me momentarily and I hug you and
kiss you needfully. You turn over and cradle me
suddenly. I feel like such a little boy. You ask me if
everything is alright but I assure you I have never
felt happier. It is the truth.
I have a pressing need to remove your top and for some
reason you sense my urgency. You let me undo the
necessary buttons and then shuck the thing off as I
pull down your bra straps and reach around to unhook
you. Free of social confinements the sheer beauty of
your breasts stuns me. I am no longer the master of
your sexual destiny but rather a student lover in awe
of his beautiful teacher.
As my lips latch upon your nipple you sigh and lie
back. I suck deeper and feel you pulling me to you.
Kissing you becomes a desperate need and I whisper
words that no literate script-writer would ever be
likely to have penned. One hand follows the southern
freeway, past your belly button, across the flatlands
and clear beneath the elastic border. There is no toll
to pay. The odd gorse bush is no deterrent and my
fingers reach the fringes of Nirvana. I sense I am a
welcome visitor and not waiting for an announcement,
slip inside where it is so warm and accommodating.
Beneath me, your hips thrust noticeably upwards,
meeting my own downward and gently invasive
penetrations. I need to see that which I can feel. You
need to show that which no longer demands to be hidden.
Slipping your panties down, I am presented with that
supreme architectural accomplishment that I have seen
and thrilled-to so many times before. Yet it is
uniquely different – it is you. The balance of power
shifts yet again. Your emotions peel back upon
themselves and as you lie there now, a vulnerable and
dependent little girl once again, I am Columbus,
Genghis Khan, Thomas Edison, Euclid – on the verge of a
new discovery.
I remove my own clothes and none too confidently at
that. It is simply the unfamiliarity not embarrassment
that impedes my actions. Divested of your skirt you are
equally naked and both physically and mentally prepped
for what is to follow. I am still kneeling there
between your legs when I realise you have gently taken
a hold of my erection and even now are lovingly
caressing it along its length. Distracted to the point
of feverish need, I manage to stave off my blindly
motivated procreational urges, preferring instead to
let you suffer the indignity of having to make the
first move.
I am made to pay for my laughably ill-conceived
arrogance. How like me you prove to be ultimately,
quite obviously realising the emotional connections far
outweigh the physical ones. As if sensing the impasse,
we lay now facing each other side by side – neither
with any sexual advantage. From this fully neutral
viewpoint it takes but the simplest of shared impulses
to set in motion all that we both want. All that we
ever wanted. We kiss.
Those millions of nerve endings suddenly hot-wired and
sending frantic messages to all points of the compass
are but one aspect of kissing. The instantly opened-up
two way passage of emotional feedback, the taste of
desire, the starter's pistol – all this and so much
more.
Did I place my erection at those beautiful lower lips?
Did you? Does it matter? As I push gently up inside
you... nothing matters, simply being there! I study
your lovely expression as you open your mouth in silent
ecstasy – feeling everything I am doing to you. I take
a hold of your hips and thrust up... harder now. Your
eyes begin to cloud over and the moans gain volume.
I kiss your breasts as you now arch backwards providing
me with complete access to your wholly erect nipples.
It is like making love to a furnace I am in control as
I must be and between the kisses you so desperately
seek I whisper words of a language that offers no
grammatical perfection, no right or incorrect
phraseography, simply an open-ended dialog of
impassioned communicative bliss.
With your knees as wide as you can comfortably spread
them, I am afforded such penetrable latitude that
already I feel the onset of rampant seminal marshalling
deep down between my own legs. Your condition has
deteriorated. If this continues you may well be on life
support pre-orgasm!
I am taking you now so deep and with such relish that
you have almost passed-out. Only the wonderful smile on
your face betrays that you are still aware of your
surroundings. Even as I incline my head and once again
kiss those ultimately desirable lips, I come inside you
with the force of a water-cannon.
I do not withdraw. Rather, I remain inside you, feeling
my discharge combining with your own orgasmic fluids.
What is perhaps the closest and most binding of
emotions right now is the realisation that I love you.
© Peter_Pan http://www.lulu.com/content/106537
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 39