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Back To The Future
by Peter Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)

***

Seven and a bit years is a long time between drinks. 
It's a helluva wait between bra-straps! (MF, mast, rom)

***

Funny thing technology, it can work for you or against 
you. The internet for example - marvellous 
opportunities for communication and research, but it 
also enables people to trace you - some that you may 
quite possibly prefer couldn't! Outraged husbands you 
have cuckolded, ex-wives seeking all those withheld 
alimony payments. The group of retirees you fleeced of 
their life-savings with that fake investment scam. 

But then there was Amy!

For those of you who have read my last published 
account "On The Banks of the Ohio" you will know who 
she is. 

Not twenty-four hours after that story appeared the 
other week I received an email from Amy herself who 
incredibly, had read the account, and which she wrote 
in her email had emotionally drained her, as she re-
lived in her own mind, all we shared so intimately that 
afternoon almost eight long years ago. 

We have neither corresponded or been in contact with 
one another all that time. 

Just twenty-four now herself, her communique filled in 
those missing years whilst mine back to her, achieved a 
similar purpose. She wrote of her regret that we were 
apparently never to see each other again and that for 
quite some time afterwards, she had cried herself to 
sleep wishing she could have spent more time with me. 
Fortuitous though it was that she had not fallen 
pregnant that day. Such an eventuality quite obviously 
not the ideal upshot, with two years of school yet to 
run.

I confided to her that my on-going journey to Columbus 
and beyond that evening, was not without great sadness 
to myself and that had it not been for my strict work 
itinerary, my impulse was to go back to New Richmond 
and tell her that which I felt, despite the 
inappropriate age-difference.

"Well I don't live all that far from there now," she 
emailed, "Do you still feel like coming back to tell 
me?"

Having been a creature of impulse all my life, I was on 
the first plane out of Sydney, that Tuesday morning. 

Barely four weeks since I completed the same thirteen-
and-a-half hour haul out to 'Frisco en route to Denver, 
at least I could look forward to a different forwarding 
flight - to Columbus this time. I felt like a drive - 
which was just as well, Springfield is some ninety-five 
minutes due west of the city (OK, eighty minutes the 
way I drive) along Interstate 70. 

Picking up a Chrysler Sebring from a cute little 
brunette, resident at Thrifty's sales desk at Columbus 
International, I hit the highway, wondering what seven 
years or so might have done to my recalled images of 
young Amy. Then I glanced in the rear-vision mirror. 
Yikes! what had those same years wreaked on my crowning 
glory, not to mention that unsightly roll gathering 
prominence around my waistline. For a moment I hoped 
that her looks had faded too - somewhat levelling the 
playing field, I rationalised.

The Marriott Courtyard on South Fountain, sandwiched 
between West Main and West High Streets is a class act 
any way you look at it and the food they dish up in the 
Meta Urban bistro there is worth a stay in itself.

Unpacking the small amount of luggage I had brought, I 
called Amy's cell phone, it being mid-afternoon. 

"Hello," she answered, almost shyly. The soft voice 
sounded exactly as I remembered it.

"Is it too late in the day for hotcakes?" I enquired.

I suspect she was about to say "Pardon me?" but then I 
heard a little gasp of surprise instead.

"Is that you Noel?" she asked breathlessly. "Are you in 
Springfield already?"

"Well either that, or you're talking to some incredibly 
well-programmed hologram sweetheart," I told her. "Yep 
just checked into the Marriott Courtyard Hotel - you 
know where that is?"

"Oh yes," she answered, "Want me to come over now?"

"Up to you," I countered. "You can just send me an 
email instead if you prefer." She giggled... the most 
delightful of girlish attributes.

"I'll take my chances," she whispered.

"Silly girl," I replied hitting "end call." Wonderful 
thing international roam!

Not forty minutes later, the lightest of knocks on my 
door. 

"Thank God, my hot-cakes at last." I said, swinging 
wide the door to my suite. 

Takes a lot to surprise me. What stood on my thresh-
hold definitely surprised me. Now she looked only 
nineteen... if that! Same hair, same face, same 
beautiful figure, absolutely nothing changed. I was 
almost embarrassed to be there.

"OK Amy," I muttered "This some sort of illusion? You 
got George Lucas' Industrial Light and Magic working on 
your case? What's the story here? You hardly look a day 
different!"

Her blushing just made her look younger still.

"Well, I guess you may as well come in sweetheart." I 
told her, taking her arm and propelling her into my 
room. Catches like this you definitely don't toss back 
in the river.

"Would you like a drink Amy?" I asked, glancing towards 
the mini-bar. "Nothing less than ten bucks a can I'd be 
guessing. Maybe if we both have one they'll discount 
the bill at check-out?"

"Why don't we go out and have something?" she 
suggested, smiling prettily.

I wasn't really listening, taking in the vision 
standing there. Short but ultimately tasteful little 
midnight-blue skirt, cream colored top with lacy edging 
and the same tiny gold pendant she had worn that day in 
New Richmond. Flawless little face with not a line to 
suggest she was now approaching her mid twenties. 

Her blonde shoulder-length hair was cut much the same 
as it had been all those years ago. Worse, my fully 
depraved faculties were wishing she had worn that sexy 
little school uniform again. I thought it best not to 
mention this particular fact. 

Putting my arm around her waist, I found a pair of lips 
in close proximity to my own. Does a cat pass-up a 
sparrow within a paw's reach? No way - nor was I likely 
to allow so golden an opportunity to pass unchecked.

She tasted even better. Slipping her arms around my 
neck, she returned my kiss with much the same passion I 
recall us mustering that day down by the Ohio river.

"Yeah, well about that little walk," I coughed 
nervously. Another few moments like this and the "do 
not disturb" sign would have been getting a work-out! 

Again that cheekiest of smiles. I just grabbed her hand 
and we took off.

Strolling northwards along Fountain Avenue we came 
across a hospitable little eatery called "Station 1." 
Whilst not exactly a five star restaurant...it is after 
all, eat-in or take-away, the menu was good and the 
décor acceptable. I had me an enormous ham and turkey 
club sandwich that was big enough to need scaffolding, 
while Amy settled for their "Philly Cheesesteak" - a 
tempting steak, onion, peppers and provolone creation 
that would satisfy anyone nudging starvation. We shared 
a plate of french fries.

Conversationally we touched on anything and everything 
from recalled moments of shared intimacy that day in 
New Richmond, to "Dubya's" likely short-term hold on 
the Presidency. I learned that Amy was basically 
unattached, as was I of course, and that despite the 
occasional boyfriend, no one had yet put down a holding 
deposit. Not that Amy herself had come across anyone 
likely to be invited to do so.

Pigged-out and refreshed, we strolled back along Main 
Street looking at a few shops but ultimately 
conversation of a wholly different nature seemed to be 
indicated and thus we returned to the Courtyard.

Seating herself demurely on the edge of the bed while I 
shifted a few things into the cupboard, she giggled 
softly.

"This is way comfier than last time I was with you."

Whether by design or accident, I rather think the 
latter, I could hardly fail to notice suddenly that the 
hemline of her skirt had shifted well up her thighs and 
if that wasn't a glimmer of enticing light-colored 
material snuggling up there just beyond the periphery 
of my up-skirt vision, then fancy was outstripping 
reality.

I sat down beside her.

"You thinking what I'm hoping?" I asked her softly.

"Uh huh," was all she muttered. It was all she had to.

The thing about lacy little blouses is, they're such 
fun to unbutton. Most especially when beneath, one 
comes across the skimpiest of silky bras that the 
designers have so thoughtfully equipped with a front 
clasp. Even as Amy lay back on the coverlet, her hair 
splayed attractively all over the pillow, I kissed her 
still rather petite breasts through the almost 
transparent material whilst dexterously unhooking her 
bra cups. Sliding them aside, her pretty breasts lay 
exposed to my vision just as they had all those years 
ago. 

I desired them equally and even as I drew down softly 
on her right nipple, feeling imminently, the softness 
swell between my lips, I could sense her body tensing 
momentarily - not with any trepidation I knew, but 
rather the knowledge of what was to come.

"You are the most beautiful girl Amy," I whispered to 
her, running my hands across both breasts and teasing 
her nipples to the erect stage I think we both wanted 
to see them. She looked up me with the same vulnerable 
appeal that she had that day when still sixteen and I 
caressed her hair and kissed her gently on the lips.

I think it was at that point it turned serious!

She made no move to resist me as I tugged that tight 
little skirt higher, exposing fully now her pastel blue 
undies... which, if not a girl's most erotically 
charged undergarment, is the gateway to unfettered 
pleasured fantasy.

Applying the gentlest of friction to the front of her 
panties I revelled in her escalating desire and 
slipping my hand beneath the waistband, located the 
true heat source, concealed as it was 'midst a downy 
softness that no man-made fibre could replicate. 

Hastily peeling her panties down I separated her labia 
and commenced a lateral caress of her wonderfully soft 
and moist inner lips. Her wide-eyed acceptance of her 
immediate fate fully approved and date-stamped.

"Do I have to tell you what I felt that night Amy as I 
drove away from New Richmond?" I muttered softly, 
kissing her intermittently.

"I had tears in my eyes all the way back to Columbus," 
if you really want to know." She looked up at me, those 
same tears in her eyes now.

"I want you Noel," she whispered barely audibly. She 
needn't have!

"Yeah? Well guess what? I ain't rushing off this time 
sweetheart." I told her. As I spoke, I parted her legs 
and having already extricated what might be considered, 
my "tool of trade," positioned myself where I knew 
others must inevitably have been... though none could 
ever claim to have been there first. It wasn't an 
aspect needed further contemplation I figured.

It's kind of an old cliché to say we were then "lost in 
the rhythm," yet this is how it was. Not a case of two 
biologically driven teenagers answering the call of 
lust. No "obligatory" union between long-marrieds that 
rarely gets out of first gear and definitely no 
fumbling amateurs hoping for the best, yet discovering 
the least. We made love, pure and simple and at the 
point she clung to me as I substantially raised her 
fluid level, she smiled up at me with that sexy "cat 
that just finished off the cream" expression that girls 
are so good at.

"That was soo loving," she whispered, fully in a post 
orgasmic haze now. I was floating too, on an ocean of 
my own making. This was no more than the aperitif.

I think I had her naked in less than a minute and under 
the covers, where I joined her for early afternoon 
mass. Pulling her astride me, it was very much a case 
of "Father Forgive me for what I know I'm going to do!" 

That hot little mouth was more than willing to share 
its pent-up desire with my own. Kissing her with all 
the passion I could accrue, I had to admire her 
complete mastery of the occasion. Spreading her legs to 
the max to thus allow her access to guide me deep 
inside her, I was left with my own hands free with 
which to explore her youthful body and its many 
interesting crevices.

No matter what your experience in these things, all 
girls are different and each one weaves an individual 
magic all her own. I have had the greatest fortune to 
have been dealt the opportunity to caress many young 
girls hot little bottoms, some of dubious age I will be 
the first to admit. 

Each and every one has been a treasured moment in time 
and Wednesday's exploratory of Amy's sexy little rear-
end was definitely no exception. There is actually 
nothing greatly more arousing than smoothing your way 
over a young girl's rearward curves, even as you thrust 
up hard inside her. Her vulnerability at such times is 
extreme and its kinda fun also to wonder what her 
father would be thinking, if only he knew.

With her firm breasts making the most delightful 
contact with my upper chest and her hair all over my 
face as she wriggled contentedly, I can't actually 
picture a more pleasant position to be in. 

"Three more thrusts should do it," I was thinking 
somewhat proudly. As it happened, two was all it took 
and even as she ground her hips against mine to better 
facilitate that final delivery mechanism, I pulled the 
hair from her eyes, so's I could watch her expression 
as I pumped everything I had left deep inside that most 
private of feminine receptacles.

"You're trying to kill me Amy, right?" I spluttered 
between my on-going respiratory distress, "Death by 
pleasure - that's the intent here I'm guessing."

"Can't you keep up with a twenty-four year old?" she 
giggled softly. 

"Twenty-four?" I replied. "I'm pretending you're almost 
fourteen sweetie, what's your problem!"

"You're disgusting," she fired back, "But c'mon I want 
you to fuck me again." She wriggled her hips once more, 
as if I even needed further encouragement.

"Ohh, this is getting serious Amy," I muttered. "You're 
using the "f" word now. Have you no shame?"

"Not with you," she giggled as I manoeueverd her on top 
of me, but on her back this time.

There is no more vulnerable a position than this for a 
girl. Her breasts wholly at your digital mercy, her 
pussy too...especially if she opts to spread her legs 
to the limit of her muscular capability. If you can't 
get her pregnant in that pose - give it away my friend.

From my viewpoint, pretty much going through the 
motions, given my fully depleted stock but Amy was far 
from replete.

Rubbing and pulling her breasts like the deviate I can 
be, I had her whimpering and moaning with consummate 
ease. Though I'm not sure it wasn't my pleasured 
moaning I was actually hearing. No matter, finding that 
I was now able to ease a finger inside her as well as 
my seven inches of penile insert was really hot stuff. 
Teasing her clitoral hood at the same time I was 
fucking her, really got the job done.

"Don't stop, don't stop." She cried, fully over the 
edge and quite past any semblance of controlled 
emotion. Unsure just how long I could maintain this 
level of aggravated sexual conduct myself, I began to 
kiss her neck and this, to my everlasting gratitude, 
brought forth the desired conclusion.

I held her breasts tightly, even as she was transported 
by one tsunami of an orgasm. I felt it radiating 
outwards... I think I even contributed a last few cubic 
millimeters of sticky stuff myself. Can't be sure 
though.

The next eight hours we simply slept together 
blissfully. Amy cradled in my arms with her back to me 
as I nuzzled her neck and shoulders. Sex is great but 
closeness is everything.

As I said to her when we woke just a few hours ago.

"Where the Hell do we go from here?"


(c) Peter_Pan

www.geocities.com/worldofpeter_pan/index.html

"The Complete Harper Valley" 
www.lulu.com/content/106537

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 46