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A work of fiction. There is a girl, whose name I don’t know, who matches the physical description and served as an inspiration, but all that inspiration happened in my mind.
It was one of those Relevant exercises that they give to senior English classes in high school: discuss “friendship,” what it means, how you get it, how you show it. It was a bore, except that Kelly was in my discussion group. 1973.
I had drooled over Kelly for four years. She was perfect. Well, almost perfect. She was about 5’2″ (short, compared to my 6’6″), with long, dark brown hair, gorgeous brown eyes, and a delightful chin line. In sum, a lovely face. Farther south, it just got better.
She had a body built for speed, not comfort. Not an ounce of fat, with small, but noticeable breasts, a tight, muscular waist, an incredible, absolutely to-die-for ass, and wonderful legs. I’d have hated to chase her. She probably would have outrun me. Her hip-hugger jeans hung low, and her short tops often exposed her delightful tummy (fashions keep repeating, don’t you know?). She seemed truly more intimidating than I could handle. I’d barely ever even spoken to her, and didn’t really know much about her, since any questions would have been turned back on me by teasing friends. So, I lusted from afar for this Mystery Woman.
“I guess I don’t have any friends,” Kelly said in our discussion group.
“What do you mean? You don’t have any friends?” I piped up.
“I don’t,” she replied emphatically.
“I don’t believe it,’ I said.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Because I can’t understand how someone like you can have no friends,” I asserted.
“What do you mean, someone like me?” she asked warily.
“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “But if I had half a chance, I’d want be your friend.”
She looked at me steadily. “What would you do with a whole chance?”
“Can we change the subject?” I gulped.
“No,” Kelly said, “What if I gave you a whole chance?”
“I’d try to be your friend,” I said meekly. The group had a good laugh at my expense, but Kelly just looked at me, expressionless.
We changed the subject and continued our small group discussion, engaging in Cooperative Learning and being Relevant Teenagers. As we were filing out of class, I felt a slight pinch on my elbow. I looked down to see Kelly.
“Did you mean what you said?” she asked as we walked down the hall.
“Mean what?” I asked in reply.
“About being my friend,” she said, gazing at me steadily. It was very disconcerting to be stared at by such beautiful eyes.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, my heart pounding.
“Want to come over after school?” Kelly smiled for the first time. I thought my toes would melt.
“Sure,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant, and failing.
“OK, see you later,” she said.
“Hey, silly,” she said as she turned away, “Don’t you want to know where I live?”
“48 Bridle Lane,” I replied with my own smile. I hadn’t lusted for four years without doing any research.
“Call me if you can’t make it,” she said.
“668-8566,” I smiled. Her eyes went a little wide, then she smiled in return and almost bumped into the wall. She giggled, turned, and walked away. I, on the other hand, floated down the hall about three feet off the ground.
Later, I passed by the sewing class. There was Kelly, in a long, light blue formal dress standing on a chair. The teacher was marking the hem. The dress clung to every delightful curve in her body, and dropped low in front, exposing the T-shirt she wore underneath. The sleeves were wide at the ends, and trimmed in fur. The teacher saw me in the doorway, gaping.
“She’s been working on it all semester,” Ms. Lines said, “Pretty impressive, huh?”
“Pretty gorgeous,” I managed to blurt out.
Kelly smiled. “Thanks! It’s almost done.”
“I’m done,” Ms. Lines said, standing up.
Kelly looked at me. “Could you help me down from here?”
“Sure,” I said, putting my books on a nearby table. I walked over to Kelly, where she was just slightly taller than me on the chair. She faced me, and in one move put her arms around my neck and went sideways. I grabber her under her knees and back, and there I was, holding Kelly in my arms.
She looked at me and smiled, “Thanks! I needed this.” Her arms squeezed my neck just a little, enough for me to know she did it, but not enough for others to notice.
I just stood there, not knowing what to say.
“Do you want to put me down?” she asked.
“Not really,” But I gently lowered her to a standing position. She didn’t pull away, though, and pressed against me.
“Thank you, sir knight,” she said, looking up at me.
“It’s among my greatest fantasies to be a knight in shining armor to a damsel in distress,” I said quietly.
“Sometimes I think I need to be rescued,” she said simply. “See you this afternoon.”
After school, I put the top down on my car, a 1971 Oldsmobile Cutlass, and enjoyed the first really warm day of spring. I didn’t want to hurry bahis firmaları to Kelly’s and appear too anxious, so I drove around, stopped and got a Coke at the convenience store, and then made my way north through town to Bridle Lane.
When I got there, it was all I could do to keep my jaw from dropping. There, in the front yard on a chaise, soaking up the late afternoon sun, was Kelly. But it was what she was wearing. Or almost wearing. It was a small, flesh-colored, crocheted bikini, with just enough stitches to keep her from being arrested. I parked on the street. She got up and bounced over to the car. I almost died watching. Her body was even more stunningly beautiful than I had imagined. Tight, and smooth, without an ounce of jiggle, except in her small, but ample breasts.
“I didn’t know you had such a cool car!” She exclaimed. “When did you get it?”
“It’s my folks’ car. They let me drive it after my 18th birthday,” I said, a little proudly, and a little sheepishly. Good thing I had to talk. It reminded me to breathe.
“When’s your birthday?” she said, leaning over the passenger door, and giving me a nice view of her delightful cleavage in the tiny bikini top.
“Mine is April 26th,” she said.
“Happy birthday!” I said, noting that it was last week. “Is it too late to celebrate?”
“I don’t know,” she said warily.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because you’re a Capricorn and I’m a Taurus,” she said simply.
“So?” I asked.
“Well,” she said, “It doesn’t get any better than that.”
“What do you mean?” I was confused.
“For romance, dummy. It doesn’t get any better than a Capricorn and a Taurus!”
“Who said anything about romance?” I asked, heart pounding again.
“I thought you wanted to be my friend?” she asked, sounding a little hurt.
I got out of the car and walked around to her, hands in my pockets. “I really did mean friend,” I said quietly, “Because I have been just a friend to a lot of girls, so I know how to do that. And because I would never have the courage to hope for romance with someone like you.”
“What do you mean, someone like me? You said that in class today and then asked to change the subject,” she said, the hurt still there.
“That’s because I couldn’t say what I was thinking in class,” I said.
“And what was that?” she asked, a little angrily.
“That I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, and there’s no way I could ever hope to have you actually like me.”
This time, her mouth fell open. “Do you really mean that?” she asked.
“Kelly, if I’m going to be your friend, you need to know that I’ll never lie to you. I’m not lying, or exaggerating. I think you’re incredibly beautiful.”
“Do you think I’m sexy?” she asked. That was the 1973 term known these days as “hot.” As she asked, she clasped her hands in front of her with extended arms, in a way that squeezed her breasts together and amplified her cleavage. It took my breath away again.
“I don’t like that word because it’s not descriptive. I like your hair, I could look into your beautiful eyes forever. You have a gorgeous face.”
“What about my body?” she said, smiling a little wickedly.
“You have a body to die for,” I said, “Simply put.”
She moved closer to me. “Do you really like me?”
“Kelly,” I said, swallowing hard and bracing myself to say what I felt, what I had practiced saying to myself to prepare for a moment just like this. I just never expected that moment would be with Kelly. “Nothing could make me happier than to try to win your heart, and having been fortunate enough to win it, to hold it my hands as gently as I could and take care of it forever.”
There was a long pause as she looked at me. “You’ve made a good start,” she said quietly, and took my hand, “Come inside with me and let’s talk some more.” I noticed that she had goose bumps. I began to suspect that it just might not be a chill. I know mine weren’t because I was cold.
“Kelly,” I said, hesitating, “Can I walk behind you into the house?”
“Why?” she asked, puzzled.
My turn for a wicked grin. “Because the view’s better.”
She laughed a full-throated laugh. “Sure, knock yourself out.”
“I don’t have to when you do it to me just by walking.”
So, she walked ahead. I was reminded of the song “The Girl from Ipanema,” and the lines “When she walks it’s like a samba that sways so cool and sways so gently…” Kelly walked that way, with a flowing grace and just the right amount of motion.
Inside, she led me to a big chair. “Sit,” she commanded.
I sat. Immediately, she sat on my lap and straddled me, wrapping her arms around my neck. The most beautiful girl in the world, wearing a tiny bikini, sitting on my lap. The lust of my life up until that moment. I felt her legs squeeze me.
“Kelly, what’s this?” I asked, bewildered at her forwardness.
“I meant it when I said that I have no friends,” she said, looking deeply into my eyes, “Guys who’ve wanted to take kaçak iddaa me out have only wanted to crawl in my pants. You’ve said more romantic things to me in the past five minutes than all of them put together!”
“I didn’t mean to be romantic as much as to just be honest and tell you how I feel.” I said shyly. “And it’s not easy for me.”
“Will you kiss me?” she asked, eyes shining. It might have been tears.
“Bad idea,” I replied, shaking my head.
“Why?” she asked, hurt sounding in her voice.
“Because Kelly, I won’t be responsible for your death.”
“Kelly, if I start kissing you, I’ll never stop. They’ll find us here months from now, dried up, starved, with our lips locked.”
She laughed again, that full laugh. “As the Indians said: ‘Today is a good day to die’!” And with that, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against mine, and then pulled back a little. It was heavenly. I put my hands on the back of her head and gently pulled her to me. Our lips touched again. Softly at first, then with a bit more contact. She pulled back. “You know, sir, I’ve had my eye on you for a long time, too.”
I was stunned, “You have?”
“Yes,” she replied,” but I never thought you’d be interested in me. And I just figured you’d be a jerk like all the others.”
“Why in God’s name wouldn’t I be interested in you?” I asked, a little hurt myself.
“Because I’m so short.”
It was my turn to laugh. “We’ll just have to make the best of it, because I can’t get any shorter.”
She laughed. We kissed. He mouth opened slightly, and I put just the tip of my tongue in her mouth, where it met hers. She responded by putting hers as far into mine as she could. My boner was now complete, pressing uncomfortably against my jeans. She caressed my mouth and tongue with her tongue. She pressed against me, and I could feel her little breasts against my chest. I held her head tight with my hands. It was a long, soulful kiss.
She broke from it with ragged breath, “Whew! That was something.”
My breath wasn’t so even, either. “I’ve never been kissed like that before!”
“Oh, and are we Mister Experience?” she said haughtily.
“Not in the least,” I replied, “Terminal shyness, I’m afraid.”
“You mean I have to be forward with you?”
“I’m afraid so, Miss Experience,” I replied.
“Heck, no,” she said, “I learned it all in Cosmo.”
We laughed, we kissed. Each kiss just got better and better. I moved my hands to her almost-naked back. The feel of her skin was intoxicating.
“Scootch down,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Slouch, you jerk.”
I slouched in the chair, and she moved up, placing her pussy right on my erection. She kissed me again. My hands moved to her waist. Her body was incredible to touch. All skin and muscle, smooth and supple, yet warm. So warm. She slowly started to move back and forth on my crotch, caressing my dick with her bikinied pussy. I moved my hands to touch her all over her shoulders, back and waist, caressing her skin.
“Oh, that feels so good!” she moaned. We kept kissing. She kept rubbing. I moved my hands to her hips and just kept them there, feeling her move. Her legs were so tight and firm.
She sat up, and untied the bikini strap from behind her back, and then from behind her neck. She put the top on the side table. I looked at two of the most perfect breasts I have ever imagined. I looked into her eyes. “Do you like what you see?” she asked, maybe a little shyly.
“You’re perfect,” I said.
“You said you’d never lie to me!” she warned.
“OK, you’re a little short,” I laughed.
“That’s better,” she said, “Now watch me try to be taller.”
With that, she pressed her naked breasts against me and slowly started to raise herself up, sliding her breasts up my chest. Then, there they were in front of my face.
“If you don’t kiss them, I’ll scream!” she said.
“Uh, what about your folks?”
“Gone for the weekend.”
“And they left you here alone?”
“I’m not alone. You’re with me.”
“True.” That said, I obliged. First I took one nipple into my mouth and sucked gently, then the other. Kelly’s breath was ragged, and she sharply inhaled each time my lips encircled her nipple. I think she liked it. I kissed all over first one breast, then the other. She held my head to her breasts and moaned softly. There was a hint of vanilla in her cleavage. I drank in the smell. Vanilla must be an aphrodisiac. As if I needed one.
“They’re not too small?” she asked shyly.
“They’re wonderful,” I replied, “And that’s the truth.” I kissed each one again. “They’re everything I could ever want.”
“Thank you. That’s sweet to say. I like how you make them feel when you kiss them.”
“It may be sweet. But it’s the truth. And I like to kiss them very much.” With that, I cupped them and gently held them, not squeezing, but feeling every last bit of them that I could feel with my hands. Just there, motionless, but soaking in the feelings of her soft kaçak bahis flesh. I looked deeply into her eyes. She held my gaze.
“I have a question. But you have to tell me the truth.”
“I promise,” I said; hand in the air as if taking an oath. I discovered that I preferred to touch her breast, and replaced it there.
She looked me in the eyes deeply. “Do you want to make love to me?”
“Truthfully, I wonder if we’re going too fast.” I replied truthfully.
“I’ve had a huge crush on you for two years, and my hormones are raging. I want you to be my first lover,” she said earnestly.
So, how do you answer the most beautiful girl in the world when she asks you to make love, when only hours before you barely even knew her? Truthfully.
“I would be honored to make love with you.”
She smiled deeply and stood up.
“But,” I said, “You promised me a whole chance, and I want to make good on that. Besides, I never make love on an empty stomach. Let’s get something to eat.”
“You only make love on a full stomach?” she countered.
“I don’t know,” I replied, “But I hope I’ll find out.”
She laughed when she realized what I’d just said. “D’Angelos. I love their Number 9 Pokkets.”
“So do I!”
“But, sir knight,” she said, taking my hand, “Can you eat one with only one hand? Because I have no intention of letting this one go.” Her eyes were shining, and I suspected tears again.
“Are you OK?” I was concerned.
She sniffed and rubbed her nose. “I’m more than OK. I’m happy for the first time in a long time.”
D’Angelos makes sandwiches that occupy half a pita. A Number 9 Pokket stuffs a pita with steak, cheese, peppers, lettuce, tomatoes, and mushrooms, if you ask for no onions. It is a mess: hard enough to eat politely with two hands. Kelly allowed us only one, as we sat in the same side of a Formica booth. It was hilarious, and we both had the grace to laugh at ourselves and at each other. We talked about trust. We talked about loneliness. We talked about being tall and being short. We talked about school and friends. Most people are in and out of D’Angelos in half an hour. We were there two, getting Pepsi refills in a cup with two straws. I learned that it’s hard to be as beautiful as she is and still be able to have girl friends who aren’t jealous and mean, and boy friends who can think about anything but sex. In other words, she was lonely. I found words coming out of me that I’d never shared with anyone. She was so easy to be with, so easy to share with. I discovered my own loneliness through her company. But just as I was discovering a name for what I had felt for so long, it began to abate. I felt myself drawing close to her. Closer than I’d ever felt to anyone.
I opened the car door for her as we left.
“Thank you,” she said, “No one has ever done that for me before.”
“Get used to it,” I said, “I intend to make it a habit.”
“It makes me feel special,” she said, as I closed the door on my side.
“You are special, Kelly. Believe that.”
“How’s your whole chance going?” she asked seriously.
“You want the truth?” I said, starting the engine.
“You promised,” she said, now a little nervous.
“I don’t know how it will end, but it looks pretty good so far. In total truth, I’m falling for you very hard,” I said, “I can talk to you about things I never thought I could talk to anyone about. And you listen. And you care. I guess you’ve figured out that it’s hard for me to trust anyone, but I feel I can trust you absolutely. I’m so comfortable with you, I feel like I’ve known you all my life.”
Now, tears really streamed down her cheek. “It’s a Taurus thing,” she said, “But I feel the same way about you, sir knight. You’re rescuing me from a loneliness I’ve felt for a long time. You’re nice, sweet, and very romantic.”
“It’s about beauty,” I replied, “And I’ve already said that the outside you is beautiful. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known or imagined. And now I’m learning that you’re just as beautiful on the inside, too.” I put my hand on her chest above her breasts. “It’s the inside that matters to me in the end. But I’m happy to take the outside, too!
“And the knight thing. It’s a source of great fantasy for me to imagine riding up in full armor and rescuing beautiful women. I’ve though about it. Rescue comes in many forms. One is rescue from loneliness, I guess. I see someone like you, who is so beautiful and attractive and warm and wonderful, and you’re lonely. I feel your vulnerability and I want to rescue you from that. I’m not sure what form that rescue takes, other than to just be with you. It’s not a sexual thing at all. I just don’t want to ever see you hurting. Nevertheless, I’m deeply attracted to your loneliness, because it lets me feel like I can rescue you.”
She laughed and leaned over to kiss me lightly. “I said that sometimes I feel like I need to be rescued. Maybe you hit on why I feel that way. So, sir knight, rescue me from my lonelliness. Come back home, and have the outside with the inside. You make me so happy I want to scream.”
“Don’t scream!” I exclaimed, “People will think I’m raping you.”
“Never mind them,” she replied, “The question will be who’s raping who.”
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