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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!
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!!!!
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Suave and Debonair
By Anonymous (address withheld)
***
The story is a fantasized episode of a women's shoe
salesman's reunion with Dawna, his first time romp at
the horny age of thirteen. (mf-teens, 1st)
***
Her presence radiated; no one could ignore the vision.
Every head in the place turned to feast on the view of
this tall voluptuous dark-haired creature. She was 6'2
flat footed; today she was wearing three-inch spike
heels, which only helped accent her full figure. The
firm rectangular 54" hips, and the seductive curve of
her 42" bust truly balanced the height, but yet in
spite of her size she was delicately feminine. She was
dressed in a white low-cut summer dress that followed
her curves like mercury flowing over an uneven surface
then flared from mid-thigh to the hem.
Pat stared, gulped a couple of times as reality sunk
in. He quickly but suavely moved towards her. Pat was a
shoe salesman extraordinaire and he was up, as they say
in the business. His sudden arousal let him know he was
up in another way. She was his. This is definitely my
hour; maybe my night, he envisioned, his thoughts
wandered like a pinball moving in a bright noisy
machine, "My GAWD, to bury my face in her gorgeous-uhh,
chest for an hour," he mumbled. He quickly adjusted his
rigid tool.
"Hi, I'm Pat, how may I be of service," he oozed, his
eyes transfixed on her lovely globes staring at him
like a pair of headlights– he was 5'10- magnetic in
their majesty, nestled in the red lace.
"Oh yes Pat, I'm Dawna, she smilingly purred as she
extended her hand to him, you certainly may, or at
least I hope so."
The suave salesman clung to the soft delicate hand,
reluctant to release, to lose the moment. The blood
pounded in his head and stirred in his sudden arousal;
his temperature must've jumped 4 points. The sweat
beaded on his brow. He quickly swiped the back of his
hand over the brow to remove the moisture. This vision
of loveliness didn't seem to mind as he held her hand,
guiding her to a seat, jumping at the opportunity to
place his hand on her warm, tanned back.
With her seated, he quickly moved his stool in to place
in front of her and sat. She lifted her right red
spiked heel encased foot to the incline part of the
stool, raising her dress hem up above her knees all in
one motion. Pat was again mesmerized by the unexpected
view as she casually opened her shapely legs. His
overly hot hand was still on her calf by habit,
anticipating removing her beautiful sexy shoe. He
gulped, licked his dry lips, his breathing stopped as
he stared at more red lace. Not a hint of pubic hair,
just a pair of exceptionally beautiful, more than full,
puffy labia.
"Do you like what you see?" She purred softly. He
looked at her unable to make his voice work; surprised
at her question, he nodded like a schoolboy, the
suaveness gone, trying not to be too obvious. His eyes
were still locked on the sexy red lace trimmed
transparent triangle peeking out from her fragrant
confines. He reached for his overly hard erection
without a conscious thought where he was, and tried to
adjust his aroused penis, he almost started to stroke.
She laughed at his discomfort. He stuttered, as he
answered, finally finding his voice, "Yes, Oh gawd yes,
he gushed, its breathtak... I mean they're
breathtaking! Are they new," he dumbly asked in his
confusion. "The shoes, I mean the shoes!"
She laughed. " Yes, matter of fact they are, as well as
the other items you've been introduced to, she boldly
answered.
He suddenly realized he had his hand on her lower hose
encased calf and his other hand gripping her red spiked
heel shoe, ready to remove it, "Uhh, what can I show
you," he stammered, trying not to grin, as he
remembered his throbbing hard-on.
Dawna teasingly answered, " You already have!"
"How?" He quaked, deflated.
"You don't remember me do you?" She asked as she bent
over to strap her shoe, her lips inches from his. Her
perfume taunted him- had to be Charlie. Pat, suave and
debonair, couldn't move. This scenario was moving too
fast for him to get ahead of it, to take charge. This
vision then stood. Her dress managed to tent his head
as she did so.
He quickly moved back and tried to jump to his feet,
totally bewildered by the last few minutes, he again
became the klutz; his suddenly saw red, her well filled
red lace thong. He was captive under her summer dress.
His balance off; his hot hands had moved up to the back
of her thighs to steady his near fall backwards. His
mouth and nose resting in a most interesting place, he
breathed deeply the lovely sexy aroma.
His tongue reacted to the situation. Dawna shifted her
crotch forward to meet his hot tongue, pulling his head
tight to her puffy lips. The tantalizing moment was
brief. Dawna casually assisted his recovery by lifting
her skirt off the starry eyed salesman. Shaking his
head to regain some composure, he finally stood up. He
was again face to face with her nestled globes. She
laughed. "Are you alright?" He could only nod as he
stared at the protruding nipples. "You don't remember
do you." She again asked.
A montage of past female faces, acquaintances,
conquests, flashed through his mind as her stared up at
her lovely face; hers was not among them. He looked up
into her grey-blue eyes and uttered, "Should I? How
could I not?"
"I want you to think about where and when and what you
have missed, Pat," she told him, a mischievous smile
playing at her full mouth. She turned and walked
towards the door, his eyes followed her delightful
movements of her gorgeous derriere, his mouth agape in
somewhat of a imbecilic grin.
He stood motionless, his erection throbbing, for what
seemed an eternity, as he pondered the mystery. He
hadn't noticed the small folded piece of white paper
lying on his stool. He finally shook his head, reached
down to move the stool. The paper glared at him. He
picked it up and slowly unfolded this curious piece of
trash. The words jumped out at him: Santa Monica High-
10th grade English. He stared, still mystified. Yes, he
attended Santa Monica High. Yes, he had had 10th grade
English.
He pulled forward the mental video of the classroom
from his distant memory. He scanned each student as he
remembered them, seat, by seat, row by row. Nothing! He
repeated the review more deliberate. He passed by one
rather heavy girl, stopped and backed up to
concentrate. It could be, he thought. The face is
similar, cut the hair. "MY GAWD, its her!" He exclaimed
out loud. The shoppers and clerks turned and stared at
this grinning salesman extraordinaire. His returned
arousal bulged as he relived the last few minutes. The
mixed fragrance of perfume and warm female vagina still
tantalized his senses.
He shoved the paper in his coat pocket; hummed a little
Torme' as he moved the stool, then it hit him: I don't
know how to get in touch with her! He anguished over
the whole thing the rest of the day. As he headed out
the door, one of the other salesmen asked, "Did you
figure it out?"
Pat did a double take. "Figure ou... how'd you know
about that?"
"She mentioned it as she left. She asked me to give you
this."
Pat took the small envelope, said thanks and stepped
outside in the early evening air with a strong hint of
the nearby Pacific Ocean. He carefully opened the
envelope. Her perfume tickled his senses again evoking
the visions of the earlier meeting. He took out the
small photo of a tall somewhat over weight girl. His
memories engulfed him as he remembered ignoring her,
after fucking her when they were maybe 13 years old,
avoiding her frequent classroom looks. He turned the
picture over and read: "Call me! I'll show you the rest
of my wardrobe," followed by the boldly written local
telephone number.
The salesman extraordinaire hummed snatches of "Pennies
From Heaven" as he cradled the receiver next to his
shoulder and dropped his quarter into the pay phone,
grinning at the photo he held.
END
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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 57