("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `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 © 2008. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- 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 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 57