It has been years since I have last seen her. Years since I last touched her ivory skin, caressed her copper hair, or kissed her raspberry lips. Years since I whispered in her ear all the things that the night would bring. Years since she was mine and I was hers; years since I have been in love. But the scent of perfume still lingers in my wrinkled nose, the feel of a perfect body in my senseless fingers, and the sight of Eleanor still embedded in my rheumy eyes. They say there is one person you are made for, and whether destiny, God, or evolution brings you together, well, that I cannot say. I just know that on a moonless night in England in 1986 I found my other half.
The young guy behind the counter was annoying me.
First off, he was barely legal to be drinking anyways, and by the looks of it, he’d already had a little too much. Second, it didn’t help that the hot girls walking in and out of the bar, hoping for a free pint or something were constantly distracting him. I turned to my buddy.
“Bloody hell,” I said. “This ain’t a bar, Sam. Last time I’m letting you take me out.”
He grinned at me. “Aw c’mon mate, the night’s still young. We’ll get ya laid afore it’s over,” he replied in his Irish accent.
I rolled my eyes and turned back to my drink.
Sam and me, we’d been buddies since nursery school at least. It helped we were both the same age, but we would have always had great times together. Sam was like the brother I never did have. Now, I had finally returned to England after three long years in America – and how better to celebrate than with a pint with your old friend?
Sam was a good guy, a dependable one, at least before the drink got to him. See, nobody’s perfect, and Sam was more than apt to get drunk at a bar. He just didn’t think alcohol through. Me, I was better. Last time I really was out for the count was when I tried tequila for the first time (goddamn that stuff is good.)
Maybe that was why Sam never could get a girl. Oh sure he’d had girlfriends and some of ‘em even liked him quite a bit, but none of ‘em would really be willing to commit t’him, y’know what I mean?
Me, well I was a bit luckier in that department. I had a long-term girlfriend from America (now what was her name again? Jane? Lucy? Ah yes, Clare.) Clare was a pretty girl, lived in L.A., obeyed her papa and was one of them “society kids” but she wasn’t high and mighty, oh no. I’d never date one of those types.
I’d grown up pretty poor in England, London’s a big city and seems so perfect but jobs aren’t easy to get anywhere. So a lot of my childhood was filled with red phone bills and hand-me-down clothes. Until my dad struck it rich in some investment or the other.
Anyways, about the girls. They always wanted me. I was a looker then, with a muscled figure and blond hair and blue eyes – y’know, your typical Scot. Even here, at this bar, I had a couple tailing me. One was very pretty, with light skin but dark hair as a striking contrast. The others were probably hookers or something – not the kind I’d date. I made a point to only date the right kind of girls, and those did not include sluts or hookers. All right, call me choosy or sexist or whatever, but I’m just saying, would you really date a dude who’s been with more girls than he can count? Course some would, but most of the smart girls wouldn’t.
But I didn’t really have eyes for any of ‘em. Even the dark haired one was pretty common around these parts. The only one I had my sights set on was the only one who seemed to be completely oblivious to me, sipping her margarita slowly while reading the paper.
Her skin was luminescent, glowing perfection, and she was showing a lot of it too. A short skirt, even though it must have been 10ºC outside. A loose top that complimented her curvaceous figure. A pair of high heels that made all the girls look at her in envy – yes, this was one special girl.
What else? Her hair was a copper that seemed to shine silver in the dim lighting. Her eyes, when she did occasionally glance around, were startling amber. And her lips of a perfect raspberry shade.
I signaled the bartender over.
“Yes, how may I help you?” he asked, bored.
“Who’s she?” I asked in reply, pointing my thumb over to the girl.
“I don’t know, sir, but with a little incentive, perhaps I could find out.” He winked and rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
“Bloody hell,” I muttered as I dug my wallet out of my trousers. I pulled out a 2-pound coin and handed it to him. “Enough incentive for you?” I asked sarcastically.
The guy grinned.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” he promised, and strolled off. I had no doubt he was trying to make a move on her, too – he had taken me for the clueless American. But I also knew she would reject him. Call it intuition or a sixth sense or whatever, but this girl wasn’t up front like the rest.
Sure enough, he slipped back over with his head hanging a little bit.
“Well?” I asked impatiently.
“Her name is Eleanor, she’s twenty-six, works in a technology company, likes her margaritas with extra salt – oh yeah, and she wanted you to come over,” the guy replied with a smirk.
As I walked over, I heard him remark “Looks like someone’s gonna score tonight.” His friends laughed and clapped him on the back.
I took the seat across from Eleanor. “You called me?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said carefully. “I wanted to know why you were staring at me.”
I was so shocked I began to splutter. Obviously this girl didn’t know how beautiful she really was. Immediately a look of alarm crossed over her face.
“Are you alright?” she asked, worried.
“Yes, yes,” I coughed, waving off her advances towards Sam. “Sorry, must’ve drunk something down the wrong way. So you really don’t know why me and the other eighty-odd guys were staring at you?”
She shook her head. “I already checked my teeth in the mirror, there’s no spinach or anything, right?” she asked, baring them for me.
“Bloody hell no!” I began. I saw her flinch suddenly when I swore. Goddamn she must be one of them society kids.
“I mean, of course not! You’re just one of the prettiest girls here, that’s all. You know, with your perfect skin and your beautiful hair and amazing eyes – can you really blame us for looking?” I continued.
“You really think so?” she asked quietly. “You really think I’m pretty?”
“Girl, you aren’t pretty.” Her face fell. “You’re beautiful,” I said with a smile. She looked up with happiness etched across her face.
“My boyfriend – my ex-boyfriend – Ryan, he used to tell me I could never break up with him because nobody would take me. I was too ugly. He said the only-the only reason he stayed was b-because of the sex,” she said in a whisper.
“Well, that is absolutely ridiculous. You are the most gorgeous girl I have seen yet and any guy who stays just for the sex is an effin’ idiot.” I said loudly.
She smiled impishly. “Come with me,” she begged.
“Sure, but where are we going?” I replied as she dragged me along. I made eye contact with Sam on the way out, and he winked and gave me a thumbs-up.
“You’ll see,” Eleanor replied.
We walked just a few blocks before she stopped in front of a large gray building. She let herself in, and then we took the elevator to her apartment.
Once we entered, I nearly gasped. It was one of the most beautiful apartments I have ever seen. The walls were a deep cream color, and the living room was perfectly coordinated, with matching white furniture and an oak coffee table. The whole floor was covered in a thick, tan carpet. Eleanor shut the door and left me standing there as she grabbed two glasses of champagne and brought them to the table. She poured us each a nice glass as we sat on the sofa together. Before long, my head was spinning and I think she was a little drunk as well. I turned to her.
“I’m gonna be bold, baby. And you just tell me if ya don’t like it, okay?” I slurred.
“Alright,” she agreed. I then kissed her, full on the lips. At first she reacted with shock, but soon she was kissing me back just as passionately and she entwined her fingers in my hair, and my hands began to slide lower on her body, ending at her round butt cheeks.
She broke the kiss off for a second. “Let’s take this to my room,” she gasped before her lips were on mine again. We slid into her room, and I began to undress her.
I pulled off her loose top and slid down her skirt, so she was standing in front of me with nothing on but panties and underwear. Her hands were busy too, yanking down my trousers and opening my shirt, revealing my 4-pack as well as the tent in my boxers. I could feel her smile as her lips remained on mine and her delicate hands encased my thick cock. I sighed with pleasure as she stroked it and used it as a lever to pull me over to the bed.
There, she ripped off her bra and left my eyes staring at a set of perfect ivory breasts with light pink nipples. Eagerly, I began to suckle on the right one as my hand played with the other one. She moaned and threw back her head in pure ecstasy.
Her hand re-enclosed my aching cock, but I shoved them off. I wanted this night to be about her.
“Lie down,” I told her. She immediately complied and I pulled her panties off, exposing her shaven vagina and the wetness of her arousal. Without further ado, my talented tongue and me went to work on her sweet pussy.
I sucked my two fingers to get them nice and wet, then I slowly inserted one into her pink tunnel. God, she was so effin’ tight.
One finger, and her channel was already gripping me. She was so wet too. I used my finger to gently probe her depths to find her g-spot. When I found it, a moan burst its way out of her lips as I teased it. The g-spot grew stiff under my fingers and I continued to massage it. I began to suckle on her clitoris too. Soon enough I added another finger to my hunt of her g-spot and used my other hand to lightly touch her pink rosebud.
She gasped with pleasure. It wasn’t long before she began to pant and I knew she was on the brink of an orgasm. Before she could come, however, I sat up and rubbed my thick cock along the opening of her vagina. Then, I slowly inserted the mushroom head. My neglected cock finally had its needs fulfilled as I spat on it, to moisten it, then entered it all the way in. Both she and I sighed as it entered. Then, without any kind of warning, I began to pound her hard and fast. Her boobs started jumping up and down and she groaned as my fingers searched out her clitoris again.
I slowed the tempo, and then increased it. This was not lovemaking, oh no, this was pure hard fucking. And she loved it. Hell, she lived for it.
Suddenly her vagina began to contract as she loosened up and released a squirt of honey. I grunted and slowed down to pull out before she grabbed my hand.
“Come inside me. Please. I am on the pill,” she begged.
I shrugged and started going hard and fast. I spewed my hot cum inside of this vision and sighed and my cock deflated and slipped out. I have never felt so fulfilled as I did that night with Eleanor. If there is enough demand I’ll write another story about Jason, yes that is his name. This is my first chance at writing something like this so please be nice :)
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