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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
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Natasha
by Peter_Pan (uds3@hotmail.com)
***
A long day behind the wheel can be quite stressful.
Nothing eases the tension quicker than a fine meal, a
couple of alcoholic beverages and a beautiful young
lady you've never seen in your life. Natasha's timing
was impeccable. (Mf, rom)
***
Sometimes things happen which are just supposed to
happen. No great mystery. No point analyzing "why?"
Paths simply cross and either you recognize the moment
for what it is or you lack the necessary tools of
awareness, settling instead for a weak smile at the
girl behind the counter, as you pick up your groceries
and scuttle unobtrusively out towards the parking lot.
I was never too proficient at scuttling!
Returning from a business trip to Canberra just
recently, I had been looking forward to getting home
and putting my feet up. The eight kilometer traffic jam
on the Federal Highway just north of Fyshwick in the
Australian Capital Territory, had not helped my cause
or I suppose, that of the unfortunate truckie who had
overturned his rig on a sharp curve. They were still
spraying foam on the wreckage as I inched past the
police cordon. It was another two and three-quarter
hours before I made the outskirts of Sydney, exiting
the F4 freeway at Parramatta, a city that was formerly
the administrative hub and seat of colonial government
for the early settlers in the 1800's.
Parched and nudging starvation, I decided I would avail
myself of the services of one of the many licensed
restaurants along the main drag. Incredibly at one
point in Church Street there, one might stare in
disbelief at more than sixteen four and five-star
restaurants, literally adjacent to one another, lining
both sides of the street... and all packed to the
rafters. Italian, Korean, English, Indian, Thai, Aussie
seafood, French, Asian... take your pick! One thing
about Australia not a country in the world has the
range of culinary delights that are on offer there.
Craving of all things a mountainous burger, I figured
City Extra was the way to go. Open 24/7, and themed
along the lines of "The Daily Planet," the menus are
printed on paper much like an evening tabloid. Familiar
with their offerings or more relevantly, their fully
loaded "city-extra burger," the decision-making was
inarguably simple. I didn't need much convincing either
by the petite waitress, to order 'something from the
bar.' A glass of Hunter Valley chardonnay saw to that
quite nicely.
It's not common knowledge, but City Extra has a small
private bar at the rear of the place that they open
mainly on Friday and Saturday nights. It is an intimate
little affair that caters for those who like their
drinks mixed to perfection, the dιcor subtle and the
mood ambient. The feng-shui was never better let's say!
Appeased gastronomically and mellowed-out by the
chardonnay, all memories of the Federal Highway were
long suppressed. Paying my check I wandered into the
bar area and sitting down on one of the four available
stools, I figured I'd close out the night with a brandy
crusta... or two.
I must have been nursing my drink for several minutes
before I noticed the girl further along the bar. Seemed
to me she was absorbed in some unhappy contemplation as
she kept staring down at her almost empty glass quite
obviously seeing something other than her drink
coaster. Something in her demeanor held my attention.
Of indeterminate age, most likely in her early to mid
twenties, she was tastefully dressed. Long dark brown
hair flowed across her shoulders, contrasting vividly
with the cream-colored cardigan she was wearing. My
first impression was that she may have been of Chinese
descent but at the point she turned around to glance at
a news bulletin on the wall-mounted plasma tv screen
behind her, I could see she was probably Eurasian and
like many such girls extremely pretty.
Catching my appreciative glance, she smiled warmly
before lowering her eyes, as Asian girls are accustomed
to doing.
I freely admit, that had not I the benefit already of
considerable alcoholic indulgence, I would have simply
smiled back at her, finished my drink and left the
premises. Given additionally that she was way less than
half my age, enjoying her own company and in no way
seeking to upgrade that state of affairs, I really
cannot explain why I asked if she would allow me to buy
her another cocktail or why she shyly accepted come
to that!
Talk came easily. Her name I learned was Natasha, and
she was a college student, least she had been. Various
social and domestic issues had conspired of late to
terminate that state of affairs so that now she was
taking a position downtown to support herself.
Altogether charming and well-educated, I discovered she
was of part Italian parentage which accounted for her
clear western accent, "aussiefied" that it occasionally
sounded.
Sitting at the small booth that we now were, I was able
to study her at close range probably not as close as
I would have liked if the truth be known. Her
expressive brown eyes lit-up whenever she would
emphasize a point and she had this rather cute habit of
brushing that long hair away from her face as she
spoke. I found her presence totally captivating.
We must have sat in that booth for more than an hour. I
fielded as many questions from her as I asked. I guess
by almost eleven pm. we were as familiar with each
other's lives as the average credit card company.
Eventually the conversation reached the inevitable
plateau "Well this has been fun, what are we doing for
the main course?" Seeing as I had never picked up a
woman in my life and she quite obviously was not
wearing any "make me an offer" signs, progress of any
sort was akin to driving on a highway covered in black
ice.
I have always been of the opinion that honesty up front
cuts through the preamble.
"Natasha," I said, holding her hands across the table
hands that she willingly donated to my cause I should
add.
"At the risk of incurring damage to my left cheek, I
just want to tell you that meeting you has been, well
way more than a pleasure. I think you are the sweetest
girl and although I can hardly expect the sentiments to
be reciprocated let's face it, I'm old enough to be
your father... probably your grandfather, I have an
unquenchable desire to spend the night with you."
For a moment those lustrous brown eyes considered their
options. I wasn't sure whether she was about to scream,
call 000 on her cell or worse, break down in hysterical
laughter.
I certainly did not expect her next move. Exiting the
booth, she stood up, smoothing her dress down demurely
before picking up her purse and holding her hand out to
me. No words of any sort were uttered and yet she
answered me with simply an expression.
It all seems so ethereally weird now thinking back on
it, but at the time it felt almost pre-ordained. Just
around the corner from City Extra sits the huge Crowne
Plaza Hotel. You just know the rates are gonna be in
the upper stratosphere from the Rolls Royces, Jags and
Porches that are typically clustered about the
entrance.
"Mr. and Mrs. Smith?" the reception clerk enquired
nonchalantly, glancing at both my thinning hair and
Natasha's rear end.
"Henderson actually," I corrected him, "and this is my
daughter Estelle," Natasha turned around giggling like
a young teenager.
"Of course," he replied, his expression creditably
unaltered. "Will you be staying just the night Mr.
Henderson?'
"For now yes," I replied, "We'll see what transpires
in the morning," I added, handing across my credit
card. Having satisfied himself as to the card's
validity, he returned my ID together with the
electronic key.
"Room 383 - that's on the third floor sir," he
enunciated clearly.
"It figures," I muttered. "Any chance of a bottle of
champagne at this late hour?"
"This is the Crowne Plaza Sir," he replied, visibly
insulted. "We will have it up to your room
immediately."
He was right we had barely closed the door when room
service came a knocking with the prescribed nightcap!
Now I would not call myself a shy man even under the
most threatening of female encounters... and let's face
it, my life has been littered with such tests of
endurance. Natasha though presented me with an all-new
playing field. Looking at her as she sat on the edge of
that generously sized double bed, or to be more honest,
looking at the hemline of her dress that had risen to a
code-red danger-level by virtue of its brevity, I found
myself wishing fervently to engage in some amorous
exploration of that slim and youthful body. Still,
first things first, we did have the small matter of a
half-full bottle of '94 Moet to address and the girl
was clearly no shirker when it came to helping out with
such chores.
"It's making me giggly," she confided, holding her
glass out for a refill.
In close proximity to her face as I leaned forward with
the bottle, I figured I would take the opportunity to
lay some basic groundwork. It was only a light kiss I
guess, but it met with little or no resistance that I
could detect. If she was surprised by my forward
behavior she certainly didn't show it, returning my
kiss with the softest and sweetest tasting lips it has
ever been my pleasure to recall.
Not sure ultimately whether it was the champagne or the
reckless spirit in me but I remember sitting on the bed
beside her - both our glasses on the small bedside
table - and just easing her back on to the covers. Now
sexy lips are one thing, but being presented suddenly
with two soft rounded breasts within fondling distance,
can substantially alter one's game-plan. I really felt
at that moment, she could do without that light
cardigan and set about its removal, after which the
provocative nature of those pert little breasts was
highlighted three-fold. The low-cut design of that
dress aided and abetted the visuals no end.
I think I heard a soft gasp or three as I squeezed that
which I shouldn't. No way however, was I to be deterred
from my plotted course and slipping a hand down her
cleavage I discovered exactly what she kept inside that
frilly little bra of hers. As smooth and as earnestly
sexy as God has yet had the inclination to fashion, I
surreptitiously eased the dress down until her bra was
exposed. At the critical moment I then leaned forward
and exposing her left breast - almost disrespectfully
in hindsight - I suckled her like an eager infant.
No mistaking the gasps this time, she fairly wriggled
in pleasure.
From her viewpoint, that wasn't such a great idea
either. What had appeared while she was standing, to be
a shortish dress, was now a wholly provocative
panorama. The hemline, more than two thirds of the way
up her slim thighs, revealed suddenly a healthy segment
of light green panties quite obviously a close
relative of that equally exposed green bra. Twin
architects of my imminent misbehavior as it turned out.
Kissing her with what I hoped was passionate intent, I
coerced her to turn over on the coverlet. Not only was
the resistance factor at zero, she even kicked her
shoes off rather delicately. Presented thus with one
awesomely provocative young rear-end packaged with body
contours, which at that angle were a delight to look
upon, I could see a solitary zipper that ran its course
from shoulder to her lower back make that half-way
down her bottom!
On the journey south, that zipper yielded up many a
visual treat. Finely structured shoulder-blades, the
clasp to a bra that needed freeing up, beautiful curves
that melded into gently flared hips, below which
resided those tantalizingly sheer panties that were in
such obvious need of being pulled down themselves. For
a few moments I simply took in the sights, allowing my
fingers to trace their way along her spinal column, an
action that begat many a giggle and wriggle.
It was but the work of seconds to extricate that dress
so that the girl was left vulnerably spread there with
nothing but her panties to provide some token modesty.
The bra I had already tugged loose and discarded the
far side of the bed. Kneeling alongside, I caressed her
softly just below the shoulders, bequeathing then the
lightest of kisses right the way down her spine.
Tugging the waistband of her panties indecently lower
and there is little point expanding on that aspect -
who amongst you cannot visualize such a playing field?
I kissed her once more at the very onset of her
pretty rear crevice.
Natasha turned her head and quite obviously as aroused
as me, whispered, "That's making me so hot!"
Tugging her panties down caused her to instinctively
make a grab for them. The bird had flown the coop of
course and she was left lying there, trying futilely to
cover her bottom with her hands. It just rendered the
visual aspect that much more provocative.
My self-gratification instincts were to spank her
obviously but then I figured "WHY bother, when there is
so much more of a constructive nature one might be
initializing?"
Tugging her further up towards the pillow, midst small
gasps of submissive expectation, I took up residence on
the coverlet in such a position that I was able to part
her legs sufficiently that I could see her privately
furred terrain and the sexiest of moist clefts between
her legs. Rather than give her cause to maybe show some
opposition to my modus operandi, I began kissing her
bottom cheeks fervently which I'm quite sure distracted
her to perfection.
"Are you going to make love to me?" I heard her mutter
barely audibly. It sounded to me like she was seeking
some sort of assurance that this might be the case.
"That depends," I answered, "On whether or not such an
invitation has been issued. Rape trials take so much
out of a guy, and anyway it's not my fault you are such
a sexy little girl sweetheart!" I began kissing the
back of her thighs, even as I spread her legs wider.
I can't be sure whether she was beginning to moan
softly or simply that in my own desperation I was
imagining what I wanted to hear. Either way, I was the
possessor of an erection par excellence and needed
solace big time!
Shucking off my pants in near Olympic time, I gently
encircled her waist and maneuvered the girl on to her
knees. Spare a thought for the burning sensation
suffered by my retinas at the unfolding vista. Her
vaginal entry at this juncture so prominent, enforced
procreation was a necessity. Slipping a finger up into
the promised land, simply added a few degrees to the
ground temperature. Wriggling her hips in pleasured
response set in motion the evening's festivities.
Entering her with an ease that comes of several
decades' illicit sexual harassment of the female
fraternity, I was finding the experience much to my
liking. Quite obviously not a virgin herself, despite
giving every appearance of being such, she was
thrusting back upon me with a vigor rarely seen, her
vaginal muscles in total control of my immediate
destiny. My hands smoothed their way across those
fancifully curvy rear cheeks of hers, all the time
maintaining a penetrative rhythm that was only ever
likely to have the one short-term outcome.
"Come IN me," I heard her gasp almost painfully.
Never one to disappoint a lady, I found myself gripping
her hips tightly even as I gained a release of
monumental proportions not so much in quantity I'm
meaning, but rather in measurable satisfaction. Judging
by her own seismic jolts, I remain of the opinion that
Natasha scaled her own peak simultaneously.
I eased her back down on the bed alongside me. She
seemed such a little girl somehow.
"That was exquisite," I told her, "I hope you can
forgive my poor behavior tonight sweetheart they must
have spiked my hamburger!"
"Oh do you want me to go?" she asked. Her words threw
me for a moment. I hadn't considered she might take
them that way. I hugged her, trying my hardest to
overlook the fact her pretty breasts were pressing up
against my chest, disorientating me all to hell.
"Well no Natasha," I muttered, "That wasn't part of the
plan at all. To be honest I was kinda hoping you might
spend the night with me?"
She looked up quizzically. "Hmmm, well okay then,' she
giggled. "I suppose I could do that! Oh gosh," she
added quickly, "there's stuff running out of me." She
glanced down between her legs as she spoke and I could
see small strings of sticky white residue seeping
between her thighs. There is nothing sexier than
watching a girl slipping her hand down in that general
area.
"I suppose I should have a shower first?" she half-
volunteered.
"I really wouldn't bother," I grinned, tossing aside
the coverlet and dragging her beneath the sheets with
me, before extinguishing the bedside light.
Sleep came fitfully mainly I guess because we had
other priorities. When you find yourself with a naked
girl astride you, her erect nipples teasing your rib-
cage, sleep really isn't an option. Fondling is
however...even while you fuck her insensible. That
alone pretty much took us through to 1 am. For a while
we drifted off, but waking a short time later to find
her asleep on her back beside me, brought out my baser
Neanderthal urges.
Carefully discarding the covers I managed to part her
legs without waking her. Fucking a girl while she is
asleep is one of the world's greater privileges. It is
also an art-form....one I obviously haven't mastered as
she woke up mid-penetration.
"You're being naughty," she murmured. "How many times
have you done this to me tonight?"
"Nowhere near enough," I replied. "You want I should
continue?"
"Yes please," she giggled, spreading wider still.
I dunno - girls these days - they just got no self-
respect!
© Peter_Pan 2008
Please visit "The World of Peter Pan" website:
http://www.geocities.com/phrenetic_ice/wopp.html
Available now in soft-cover, the comprehensiveanthology
"The Best of Peter_Pan"
http://www.lulu.com/content/679070
Look out for "Girl from Nova Scotia" coming Saturday
week on Kristens.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 57