Short sex stories

Erotic fiction and short sex stories




Beautiful Ariel

Back when I was in college, I met a girl named Ariel. She was literally the most beautiful girl I've ever met.

It was my first year at the university, and she was a senior at the local Catholic high school, about a mile away from the campus. Per regulations, she had to wear the classic uniform, plaid skirt to her knees, white blouse, blazer, and so on like all of the other girls there.

Even though this was an all-girls school, her beauty was striking. She liked to wear her hair in pigtails, but her hair was so long that each braid fell down her back to her waist. She said she liked the feel of them better that way because she could swing them around better when she felt like it. She may have been in high school, but her figure was fully developed, and she was well aware of it.

She also had one of the sweetest voices I've ever heard; honey sweet and slightly smoky. I could listen to her for hours and never grow tired of it. I heard her sing solo once in one of the Catholic masses she attended through school, and her voice was so ethereal and sweet I swear Saint Peter himself would have sat up sharply and taken notice.

In addition to being both incredibly beautiful and brilliant, she was also one of the most erotically sensuous girls I've ever met. She knew how innocent she looked in her plaid skirt and long braids, so she would sometimes go to school wearing no panties so she could "feel the rough material of the skirt rubbing against her naked ass as she walked" and "the cool wind caressing her hot pussy". Her words, not mine.

I don't mean that she was promiscuous, in many ways she was still an innocent. She was still a virgin at the time, and as things turned out, we were each other's first and last. I thought at the time when she said these things, that she was just trying to shock me and see how I reacted. Not till much later did I find out that it was both, she did want to see how I reacted, and that it was true. She said she liked the thrill of thinking how the nuns would faint dead away if they knew she was stark naked beneath her skirt while singing in the choir during mass.

The thing is, I am totally blind, having lost my sight in an injury when I was in my teens. So at the time when I met Ariel, I had no idea she was the most beautiful and sensuous girl I would ever meet; I only found these things out later.

Being blind, there is a lot that goes into schooling, one of which is obtaining accessible reading materials like text books. Nowadays these can usually be found in electronic format, but back then, they were mostly still in print. So, through Disabled Services, readers would volunteer to read text books for students at the university. Sometimes this would be other students at the college, or volunteers from the local Catholic school would do so instead since both institutions were loosely affiliated.

This is how I met Ariel, she had volunteered to read one of my textbooks. My first thought upon hearing this news was, that's really nice of her, Ariel is a really pretty name. My first thought upon hearing her speak though was, she has the most beautiful voice I've ever heard, how the hell am I going to pay attention to anything she is actually saying. Thus, Ariel and I were introduced.

Months went by though, and we both got into the rhythm of things. She was an immense help, but I never lost my attraction to her voice; it just settled deeper as we became friends. She also noticed that sometimes I would be listening to her, but not always remember what she had been reading at the time. She asked me if this was because of the injury where I had lost my sight. So I somewhat embarrassingly admitted that, no, it was because her voice was so pretty that I had trouble concentrating sometimes on what she was saying. She was quiet for a moment, then asked me about something else to change the subject. I was afraid that I had offended her by admitting this to her, but she still seemed to be okay, so I tried to put it out of my mind. I only found out much later that she thought this was the sweetest thing anybody had ever said to her.

One important thing about being blind is, initial attraction isn't physical, it's always auditory. Having lost my sight in my teens, I had been fully sighted before, so I knew from purloined Playboys and the like what women looked like naked, and what I was most attracted to. So I didn't know what Ariel looked like physically, just that I was powerfully attracted to her, based on the sweetness of her voice, plus her kindness and intelligence.

We started spending more time together, and she got into the habit of describing things to me. These started out as small things as we were out together. She would comment about something she saw like "that's weird", then I would enquire what about, and she would describe it. As time went on, she became increasingly better at it. I remember one night when she described the moon and stars for me, and how the clouds looked scudding across the sky. She did it so well that I could see all of it in my mind, even though I couldn't do so physically.

This was totally amazing.

For a blind person who was previously sighted, all of the original points of reference remain. When somebody said airplane for example, I pictured what I remembered an airplane looking like when I could see, which didn't match the airplane being referenced in the present. Instead, Ariel opened a door in my mind that I thought was closed forever, and that by itself was truly magical.

I discovered that she enjoyed describing things to me just as much as I enjoyed hearing her do it. As part of her own studies, she was learning about the arts, and she started describing these to me as well, which was fascinating. She started out with many of the well-known pieces such as the Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci, the Persistence of Memory by Salvador Dalí, David by Michelangelo, and many others. At the same time, she started sprinkling in the erotics as well, such as The Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli, Rokeby Venus by Diego Velázquez, the portrait of Gabrielle d'Estrées et une de ses soeurs, and even the sexually incongruous, such as Monument to Balzac by Rodin and the statue of Hercules and Diomedes in Palazzo Vecchio in Florence. She loved describing that last one, god how she laughed; we both did.

By this point, she had become such an important part of my life, that I couldn't bear the thought of doing anything to jeopardize that. I remember thinking of her as I lay awake at night, longing for her so badly that I thought the ache in my heart would kill me. That's when I realized that I loved her. I've felt many types of pain over the course of my life, starting with the injury when I was scarred and broken, but the pain that is felt when you truly love somebody but don't know if they feel the same for you, is like no other. I didn't know what to do, and I was so afraid of doing the wrong thing.

A huge problem for me, was that I had built up many emotional defenses over the years, which was a necessity. Due to the nature of my injury, I was scarred everywhere, my face, my head, my neck, my arms, my legs, my stomach, and so on. When I say I was broken, that is literally true. So much of the time that it took for me to heal and grow stronger, was during the years that I was in high school. Needless to say, I was forced to build exceptionally strong emotional defenses. Outwardly to others this appeared as a form of stoicism, where I rarely spoke to anyone. I found out later that many saw this as arrogance, which couldn't have been further from the truth. I was just trying not to be noticed by anyone.

At one point, when I was experiencing a moment of weakness and self-doubt, I asked Ariel if my appearance was difficult for her. I immediately regretted it, fearing her answer, but she was starting to mean so much to me, that I needed to know the truth; even if it hurt me. She was quiet for a moment, then she said no. A few awkward heartbeats went by, and I thought that was the end of it.

Then she said, actually, she liked my scars. She said she admired me because I had obviously experienced things none of the other guys she knew could even imagine enduring in their worst nightmares, and that somehow I made myself stronger because of it.

My eyes were burning, and I couldn't speak for a bit; I kept trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. That was the sweetest thing any girl has ever said to me, and if she had asked me for the moon, I would have found a way to fetch it for her. Years later, the two of us attended a local theater production of Beauty and the Beast, and the irony was not lost on me.

A couple of weeks later, she was telling me about the Christmas Ball at her school, and that this was one of the few events that guys were allowed to participate in on campus. Then it occurred to me that she was asking if I would like to go as her partner. So I said yes, of course; I would have done anything for her by then, and I'm sure she knew it. I was a bit nervous though, because I had never gone to a dance before. When I was in high school, for obvious reasons, this was just never in the cards for me.

She helped me out though, and the two of us went shopping one day, and she helped me pick out a black silk button down shirt, black slacks, and a dark red tie that she liked the look of. She said her dress would be dark red too, so we would look good together.

When the day came, we met at the dorm; she said I looked great, and I said I was certain she did too. Luckily she knew how to knot a tie, which she helped me with, then we were off.

By this time, I had a fairly vague idea what her body type was, just from daily contact. I knew she was about a foot shorter than me from the direction of her voice, that her hair was long because I sometimes felt it blow against my arm when we were out together, and that she had a slender build from us going sighted guide together.

If you are unfamiliar with this term, sighted guide is when a sighted person guides a blind person through touch.

With my left hand I would hold Ariel's right arm just above her elbow. This is how I knew she had a slender frame. My hand would wrap all the way around it so that my thumb and middle finger touched. This is relative though, because my hands are fairly large. When I could see I used to play basketball and could grip it one handed from the top without it falling. I was also about six feet tall and my shoulders were slightly wider than average; with long arms, having hit a growth spurt when I was fifteen, where I grew about a foot.

My point is, Ariel wasn't a weak pencil thin waif, but rather, slender framed athletic and lithe. For example, I know she was part of the track and swimming teams, and was one of the best there. She admitted to me once that the hardest part about sports for her, was having to confine herself. Belatedly, not sure what she meant by this, I finally realized that she was talking about her breasts. From this, I gathered that she was also fairly well-endowed.

Even so, she always felt delicate to me, and when we walked together, I was always careful to hold her as gently as possible. Her skin also felt flawlessly soft and smooth, and I couldn't stop myself from wondering if all of her felt that way.

We arrived late, because she said we would make a grander entrance that way, which didn't really help my nervousness much. It was okay though, and everybody was nice and kept saying how great we looked together, so I felt a bit better after that. Plus I was there as the date of the most beautiful girl in the school, which I must admit did do wonders for my confidence.

Thankfully she wasn't into fast dancing, which I always had trouble with. Though I'm about six feet, my frame other than my shoulders and arms is fairly narrow, so I'm not the largest of guys; usually weighing about 150 pounds. I've been told I have a swimmers physique, whatever that means. Even so, I've always been physically strong. When I was a kid, I used to climb trees like a monkey. I lost a lot of that after the injury, but had gradually regained it by working out as much as I could while I was still in high school; primarily in self-defense. It's sad that I had to make myself as physically strong as possible just to protect myself from assholes, but my options were few. So by the time I went to the dance with Ariel, I had a lot of physical mass, and was worried about hurting somebody if I tried flailing around and gyrating erratically, which wasn't that appealing to begin with. Ariel said that she wasn't dressed for that type of dancing anyway, which I didn't understand at the time, but was happy to hear.

Instead, she and I retired to a corner and amused ourselves with her descriptions of the other dancers, which was actually a lot of fun. Since I was taller than she and the noise was quite loud, I had trouble hearing what she was saying, so periodically when something interesting happened, she would grab my head and pull it down to her level so I could hear her better. I didn't mind this at all, sometimes I could feel the warmth of her breath and her lips against my ear, which was more than a little distracting.

Some of the things she described were quite funny as well. Apparently Kimberley's boyfriend (whoever that was) was dancing so erratically that the floor around him was cleared to prevent injury to others, where he had the mistaken impression that his seizure-like jerking and spastic flopping was a form of expressive art. During a particularly ingenious move involving an ill-conceived summersault, the seam of his pants split wide open to reveal a startling white expanse of his briefs like an accusatory exclamation point; proving once and for all in divine providence.

At the end of the evening, the final slow dance was announced, and she suddenly said this one is for us! I probably looked like a dear caught in the headlights, but she took my hand and pulled me out onto the dance floor. Her hand felt so small and delicate in mine, I was trying not to squeeze too tightly even though my heart rate had gone up a few notches in panic. Somewhere around the center she stopped, and just like that, we were closer than we had ever been before.

Since I was taller than she, her arms went around my ribs, and mine around her shoulders to her back. It turned out that I was right about her having a slender frame, because we fit perfectly like that. The first thing I noticed, was that she had woven her hair into one long braid down her back, and that her hair was amazingly soft. Also, it felt like she had threaded long strands of tinsel into the braid. She must have looked absolutely gorgeous. I had a sudden vision of us together, she, delicate radiant and beautiful, and me, tall scarred and scary.

The song had just started, and it was at this point that I realized several very important things simultaneously.

First, her dress appeared to be made of something like silk, and was one of those sleeveless ones that dip down from one shoulder to the small of her back before rising to the strap on the other shoulder. Meaning, all I could feel with my hands on her back beneath her hair, was the warmth of her smooth naked skin.

The second thing I realized, was that I could feel no bra strap back there, meaning she wasn't wearing one, and because I was wearing a silk shirt with nothing beneath it, I could feel her warm breasts pressed against me separated by what felt like only two layers of thin material. More than that though, I could also feel two points of hard pressure, which struck me in a sudden flash of clarity, were her nipples.

The third thing I realized at the same time, was that I was currently in the process of growing an instantaneous and irrevocable erection, and that there was literally nothing I could do to stop this from happening.

So, in accordance with physical laws such as gravity and the like, my penis started out pointing down within my boxers, then began to fill with blood and lengthen in that direction before moving forward and up as nature presumably designed in its infinite wisdom.

This doesn't work when you are wearing slacks though, especially in this particular situation. Because, what happened to me, was that my straining erection got lodged pointing downward at a forty-five degree angle; getting stifled in its forward momentum by the material of my slacks as well as getting stuck directly between Ariel's thighs.

I was mortified with embarrassment; I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I thought she was going to instantly pull away and slap me, and that she would never talk to me again. I was horrified, and I must have frozen in preparation for letting go of her, but she seemed to sense this, and instead pulled me tighter. I must have been bright red, but somehow I kept moving my feet as we danced like that; shuffling my feet so I didn't accidentally step on anything important.

What followed was the sweetest and most painful four minutes of my life.

The sweetest because I could feel the full length of her body against mine; the smooth skin of her back beneath my hands; her warm breasts and nipples pressed against me. Plus I could feel the softness of her hair against my throat and smell the fragrant shampoo she used as she turned her head and pressed her ear to my chest; probably feeling the beat of my racing heart with no trouble at all.

The most painful because having an erection caught at that angle is in no way pleasurable, and with every movement in our dance together, there was no way she could not have noticed the hardness of it pushing and nudging insistently between her legs like an eager puppy wanting to come out and play. If Ariel ever had doubts about the way I felt about her, they ended on that night.

When the song ended, and we broke apart, I immediately reached into my pocket and turned the dial so-to-speak so that my erection was pointing up and tucked behind my belt, so as not to be so obvious I hoped. Even so, I'm certain Ariel saw the tent pole effect before I had a chance to rectify that particular boner.

I was still terribly embarrassed, and didn't know what to say. She must have seen this, so she grabbed my hand and said to come on so we could get out of there. Both of us were quiet as we walked back to the dorm, and I was so afraid I had broken something between us.

When we arrived, she was quiet for a moment, then she grabbed my head as she had at the dance, and pulled it down to her level. She whispered into my ear "thank you", then kissed me lightly there, and was gone.

My hands didn't stop shaking for a long time, and I got very little sleep that night. I couldn't figure out what she was thanking me for. Was it just because I went to the dance with her, or for something else. Was she just being kind by ignoring my involuntary mishap, or did she feel something towards me as well. I was very confused, worried, and scared to hope for the impossible. As far as I knew, she just saw me as a blind guy who she liked to tease, and nothing more.

Ariel didn't mention anything about it when we next saw each other, so I tried to do the same, and we seemed to be back on the same footing as before. Everything between us still appeared to be normal.

She started taking a Creative Writing course at the same university as part of an extended learning program through her high school, and she asked if she could read some of her material to me. I found out that she was a very talented writer. She started by experimenting with poetry, then moved into short stories, and then started tinkering with her own literary inventions.

She came up with a theory, and asked if she could test it out on me. She called it Immersive Sensory Input. I don't know if that was a real term or if she made it up, but it sounded impressive at the time, and I of course said yes.
Her idea was that, it should be possible to combine descriptive imagery with sensory feedback descriptions in such a way that a person could not only see what was being described, but also feel it by tricking the senses. She said it should be possible to do this by combining sensory input such as expected sensations with the imagery itself. When spoken allowed then, it might be possible to verbally make a person both see and feel things. It sounded interesting, almost like a form of hypnotism.

She started out with small things, like describing a butterfly landing on my hand, combining what it looked like with what I was feeling as it sat there, the tickle of its wings brushing the top of my hand, the feel of the hard little pinpricks of its legs upon my skin as it moved, and so on. As it turned out, she was right, if enough sensory detail is combined with imagery, it is possible to feel something.

It went like this for a couple of months, her inventions becoming more and more elaborate. She also started weaving sexual sensations into things. This was so subtle at first that I didn't realize what she was doing. She explained that, as part of her Creative Writing class, they were supposed to be exploring the topic of Human Sexuality as part of it, so she was going to be experimenting with some different literary forms. In retrospect, it's obvious to me now that she made that up, but I believed it then.

When we first started working together at the beginning of the year, she and I met in the common room of the dorm. This didn't work well though, because people were always coming and going and making noise, so it was distracting and difficult for me to hear what she was reading. So eventually she just said screw it, let's just go to your room and do this.

My dorm room wasn't large at all. There was a sink within an alcove by the door, my bed on my left as you walked in, my desk plus computer and office chair on the right, then the wall and window straight ahead.

For some reason I had two beds worth of pillows; no idea why, they were just there when I arrived. I always kept my room neat and organized. Not because I was expecting anyone, but because it's a royal pain in the ass to find stuff if you are both blind and messy. I couldn't help being the first, but I could prevent the second. In this case, it worked in my favor, and I wasn't embarrassed at the state of the room when I led her in. I asked her where she would like to sit. Not that there were many options, the floor, the chair, or the bed. She said I should take the chair so that she could put the books on the bed and read them from there, so she grabbed the pillows as a back rest against the wall, and sat on the bed facing the chair, whereupon I sat facing her.

It took me a long time to stop feeling awkward in her presence. Part of this was because the room was small as I said, where my knees as I faced her were only about six inches from the side of the bed where she sat facing me. Also, it was extremely disconcerting to sit so close to her, alone together in a closed room, where she could see me, but I could not see her. Given my physical appearance, I didn't want to frighten her away, so I would always sit as still as possible and not move much. This arrangement became a habit, and she did all of her readings to me in this way.

So when she began experimenting with Immersive Sensory Input combined with Human Sexuality as the topic of her readings, I had to work very hard to keep my composure. Some of the things she read were so sexually explicit, both in imagery and sensory description, that it was all I could do not to blast off involuntarily in my pants. As it was, the air felt thick and hot, I was having trouble breathing normally, and sometimes I would need to surreptitiously adjust my throbbing erection so it wouldn't be so obvious, in a vain attempt to prevent embarrassment. Since we were literally feet apart, and her line of sight was directly into my lap, I doubt that my efforts in accomplishing this were very successful.

Years later, she told me something that changed my entire perspective of those days.

Whenever she was planning to do one of those readings for me, she would never wear a bra or panties beneath her school clothes. She would grab the pillows and lean back against the wall facing me as usual, then unbutton her blouse to bare her breasts in front of me.

As she was reading, she would pull the front of her skirt up to her waist, and spread her legs wide before me. Then she would alternately stroke her breasts and hard nipples, or run her fingers through the soft curls of her exposed pubic hair and stroke her slickened clit and the parted lips of her labia.

Sometimes she would pull her braids in front of her, one on each side of her face, then run their soft length between her naked breasts so that the ends would rest in the hot wet space between her open legs.

I did notice during those readings that her voice would sometimes falter slightly, and that she would be breathing deeply, but it never occurred to me that this was because she was literally having an orgasm two feet in front of me.

She said this was a game for her, to see if she could keep on reading steadily while doing these things at the same time, and that she felt safe doing them with me, because she knew that, even if I figured out what she was up to, I would never do anything to hurt her. She was right too. Even so, it's good that I never realized, otherwise my imagination would have paralyzed my ability to finish school.

The thing about Ariel, is that she actually was a good Catholic girl. All of the things I've described were only ever done by herself or said to me in private, and she was a very kind-hearted and ethical person. She just happened to find eroticism fascinating, and like yin and yang, the two of us just fit together. She didn't see any contradiction in this, because she still had no intention of having intercourse until she was married, which the two of us did the following year after we both had completed college. We've been happily together ever since.

What follows leads up to and describes the life changing event for both of us which occurred at the end of that first year. This is when Ariel decided that she wanted to become physically intimate with me, and when she applied everything she had learned about Immersive Sensory Input plus Human Sexuality to do it.

Towards the end of that first year, Ariel and I were usually together, since we both enjoyed each other's company more than anyone else's. At least, she seemed to enjoy my company; I always cherished hers.

Still though, much about her remained a mystery to me. Besides what I physically felt of her during the Christmas Ball, there was no way for me to really know what she looked like. I longed for her all the time, but I didn't know how to express this without doing or saying the wrong thing. By this point too, I didn't really care what she looked like, but I couldn't help being curious.

Plus, there is a stereotype for blind guys that want to touch girls, known as creeps, and there was no way I was going to be seen as that.

As a bit of blind male etiquette, if a blind guy has a habit of asking to touch a girl to see what she looks like, then he is a pervert and should be slapped. However, if a girl asks a blind guy if he wants to touch her to see what she looks like, then he is lucky and would be a fool to refuse. Also, if a blind guy is walking with a girl by holding her arm, and she raises her arm to pull back her hair for example, the polite thing to do is rest the back of the hand on her waist until she lowers her arm again. Otherwise it looks like the guy is trying to cop a feel of her breast.

The campus of the college wasn't very large, but it was in a pretty location. The main building actually started out as a sanitarium at the beginning of the 1900's, then became a university in later years; including sprawling buildings on the hill sides amidst huge trees growing around and between the buildings. It was also near the ocean, so the climate was always nice, especially during the Fall and in the Springtime.

At the beginning of Spring, Ariel and I were sitting in a clearing between the trees down the hill from the campus, where we would go sometimes when the weather was perfect. I was currently fighting a deep depression that had been plaguing me for quite a while by then.

The ache that I felt in my heart for her was constant by then, and she had never actually said what she wanted to do when she graduated high school; always sounding uncertain when I brought it up in the past. I knew that, with her intelligence, she could go to any university she wished, including any of the Ivy League schools around the country. If she did, I wouldn't just miss her over the summer, but I would never see her again. The thought of this was tearing me up inside.

She noticed that I had been quieter than usual of late, and asked me about it. I wasn't sure how to say what I was feeling, so I just said I was wondering what her plans were after she graduated.

I could feel the dappled sunlight on my skin, and hear the leaves rustling in the cool breeze as I waited; fearing the worst.

She was quiet for a moment, then said that she was planning to come to the same college as I.

I was so relieved that I needed to blink away sudden tears in my eyes, and my reaction was so obvious to her that she laughed and called me silly, saying she thought I already knew that. I could only weakly croak out no, but that I was really happy that she was.

As time went on, I noticed that she seemed to touch me more often. She always had a playful personality, so I wasn't sure if this really meant anything though. Sometimes she liked to draw on my scars. She would take my arm and color on it for a bit, then say something like "Now that one looks like a dragon!". Her happiness made me happy too; it was infectious.

As the end of the school year approached, I was still sad, because I wouldn't see her all summer. I was also afraid that she would meet some nice guy during that time, develop a relationship with him, and then when I saw her next, nothing would be the same between us. It was a different type of heartache, but no less depressing. I noticed around the same time, that she seemed quiet herself, like she too had something on her mind. It was impossible for her not to know exactly what I felt for her by then, but I had no way of knowing what she felt in return.

During the last week, we still met every day, even though there wasn't anything school related that needed to be done. We mainly hung out and talked about books that we had read, shows and music we liked, and so on. She did say that she was working on something she wanted to share with me, which she planned to have finished by the end of the week. Since I had to leave for home on Saturday, she wished to have this honed and ready by Friday. Beyond that, she wouldn't tell me anymore about it.

The day arrived, and I found that I was actually sort of nervous all day; we were planning to meet in the evening. I was still fighting sadness too, which seemed to just get sharper as the week went on and I kept thinking about not seeing her all summer and fearing that she would move on during that time.

I heard a knock on my door at 6, and she came in; closing the door behind her. She sounded normal and we talked for a bit as usual, and my nervousness started to abate a bit. I could still feel my heart pounding in my chest harder than usual though, so maybe it hadn't abated that much after all.

Our conversation slowly petered out, and there were a couple of minutes of silence between us, where all I could hear was her breathing softly. The time seemed to stretch out forever.

I imagined her watching me then, during those minutes, and was suddenly and ashamedly self-conscious, fully aware of myself, and wishing that I could have been something better; a person that she could feel for in the same way that I felt for her. I didn't know what to say, and I wasn't sure I could get the words out even if I did.

Finally, breaking the silence at last, she asked softly: "Would you like to kiss me?"

I was utterly floored. Part of me thought it was a trick question. Because of how badly I was scarred, I didn't expect that I would ever know what it was to kiss a girl in my life; I didn't expect that any girl would ever want to. I couldn't stop the tremor in my hands. She was watching me as all of these thoughts and emotions crossed my mind, and she could probably read me like a book.

All I could manage was to nod shakily, and to hesitantly ask: "Do you want to kiss me?"

I still feared the answer, thinking this must have been a trick question and that I misunderstood her somehow, and now everything would come crashing down and would be lost forever. So I just sat there on the office chair, unable to move or figure out what to do.

In response, I heard her get up off the bed, and I was certain that this was it; she would be out the door and gone forever in a matter of seconds. The ache in my heart was unbearable.

Instead, she stepped between my legs. This time, she being taller than I in this position, she took my head in both her hands and tilted it up, then turned her head and leaned down and kissed me.

Her hair, unbound today, fell over her shoulders to frame us there like that. I reached up with both trembling hands, placing one gently on either side of her head where her soft hair was between my hands and the sides of her face.

Then I felt her tongue touch mine, twining together, and I realized that I could taste her, like the sweetness of honeysuckle in late Summer at dusk.

Her lips felt so soft and warm, it was like nothing I had ever experienced before.

I don't know how many seconds we stayed like that, exploring the taste of each other, but eventually it ended and she stepped back as I lowered my still trembling hands. As she sat back on the edge of the bed facing me, my heart was racing and I could hear her breathing a bit faster now. I could feel the tear tracks down the side of my face from my eyes, though I didn't have any recollection of when this may have happened.

Eventually after I was able to control my voice, I said: "You know I love you, right?"

I lowered my head when I said this, because it hurt a lot, and I was afraid of her reaction to it. I needed her to know this though, because it may have only been a kiss for her, but with that action, I had given my heart to her completely and irrevocably, and she had the power to break it into a million pieces if she wanted to. There would have been nothing I could do to stop it.

She took a couple of deep breaths, and said: "I know you do."

I could hear the smile in her voice when she said it.

Then she said softly: "I love you too."

I couldn't stop it; the tears did come then, silently, and I had to take a couple of minutes to wipe them away and swallow the lump in my throat.

She waited for me, then asked: "You still don't know what I look like, do you?"

I was still having trouble talking then, so I just shook my head.

Since both of us were seated facing each other, we were roughly at the same level, so she took my hands in hers, and moved them to her face; holding them there, though mine were still shaking. I could feel the softness of her hair where my fingers touched it, her smooth brow and temples, the softness of her eyebrows and the tickle of her eyelashes as she closed her eyes, her high cheekbones and delicate nose, the softness of her cheeks as they swept down and slightly inward to her jaw, her chin and the soft warmth of her lips. Her skin was so soft, and she was absolutely beautiful.

I tried to be as gentle as possible in doing this, and when my thumb brushed her lips, I felt her smile as she opened her mouth and bit it gently, then ran the tip of her tongue along the side.

Up until then, I was so emotionally off balance that I hadn't had any sexual reaction to what she was doing, but when I felt her lips and the gentle pressure of her teeth holding my thumb like that, and then felt her tongue slide across it, I felt a definite stirring; requiring me to shift things slightly as she let go and we lowered our hands.

I'm sure I was blushing quite badly by then, and somehow managed to say: "You are the most beautiful girl I have ever met," and I meant it utterly.

She was quiet then, and I could hear her breathing, and the slight rustle of her clothing as she moved. I could hear small sounds like one piece of cloth rubbing against another, which repeated every couple of seconds for about half a minute. I couldn't place the sound, but it gave me time to compose myself a bit.

Then she said: "You can't really know that yet." Then she stood up and moved back in front of me, so that she was standing between my legs again. "You still don't know what I look like."

She took my hands then, and placed them on each side of her waist.

I breathed in sharply, because her waist was bare. I could feel the cloth of her blouse brushing the back of each hand, and realized that the cloth against cloth sound I had heard earlier, was made as she unbuttoned it.

I must have looked comically surprised, because she giggled, and I could feel it through my hands as her stomach muscles contracted beneath them.

Her waist felt very narrow to me, and her skin was warm, soft, and smooth. Each of my thumbs touched her bellybutton, which was fascinatingly attractive. Her skin felt hot beneath my palms on each side of her waist, and my fingers reached most of the way around to her back; where I could feel the tickle of her hair falling down past the waistline of her skirt where my pinkies rested.

I had a sudden mental vision of her then, standing there between my legs in her plaid skirt; her hands holding mine against her naked waist as she look down at me; her hair falling past her shoulders and down her back; her blouse open and falling past the sides of her naked breasts; her nipples inches away from my face.

This was a vision of such perfect beauty, that I was suddenly convinced that this couldn't be real and must be a dream; the sweetest I've ever had, and that when I awoke without her, the heartache and disappointment would kill me.

I ran my thumb over her bellybutton, feeling how her skin curved inward there, with the little nub in the center.

Her hands were still holding mine, and she pulled them upward, so that my hands slid up the smoothness of her skin to her ribs; then higher as she curved my hands to cup the outer swell of each naked breast.

They felt so full and soft and firm; my thumbs indenting the under swell of each breast as my hands curved around to the upper slope, only able to hold half of each breast between them.

I could feel how fast she was breathing, as well as her quickened pulse through the heat of her skin.

My hands were trembling again, I couldn't seem to stop that from happening.

Her hands still on mine, she slid them forward so that I could feel the fullness and smoothness of each breast as the circle of each of my hands closed; until each of her nipples was encircled by my index finger and thumb; my palms cupping the underside of each breast. Her skin felt so amazingly soft.

The skin of her nipples was so taught, that I could feel the raised ridges of her areola surrounding each as I gently squeezed her erect nipples.

Arching her back, she gasped then and clutched my hands tighter around her nipples as her body trembled. I could feel the skin of her nipples contracting beneath my hands as they became harder.

She stood that way, frozen and holding her breath while clutching my hands to her breasts, until finally her trembling body relaxed again; letting her breath out at last.
My pulse was racing too at this point, and I could feel my heartbeat within my fingers, as well as within the ache of my throbbing erection.

We stayed that way for a while, as she gradually brought her breathing more under control, her hands holding mine against the firm soft skin of her breasts. God she was so beautiful.

Then she said, somewhat breathlessly: "Hold on a second."

She released my hands and sat back down on the bed, where I could hear her moving things around. I could still feel the impression of her nipples on my trembling hands, and I ached to touch her again.

Suddenly, still a bit breathlessly, she said: "Here you go," and her feet were on my lap. "You still don't really know what I look like yet."

Since her feet were literally resting on my erection, there was no way she could mistake it for anything other than what it was, but she didn't say anything about it.

I felt her feet, and despite myself, I laughed.

Wiggling her toes, she said in mock-severity: "Do you find my feet funny?"

They were so little and cute; her toes felt so small and delicate. The bottom of her foot could fit on one of my hands. I put my palm against her heel to test this, and could still curl the tips of my fingers over her toes.

"They are so tiny!," I said in surprise.

"Actually they are quite big, you just can't see it," she replied.

Then she moved her feet apart, so that the soles of her feet rested on the front curve of each armrest. I felt them there, the top of one foot resting on my left, and the top of the other foot resting on my right.

"You still don't know what I look like yet," she said softly.

In a flash of insight, I understood what she meant, and I must have turned bright red as I blushed, because she started giggling again.

"Well, do you want to?," she said with that smile in her voice, then she wiggled her toes under my hands again.

Having a bit of trouble breathing normally again, with one hand on each foot, I felt the delicate bones of her ankles, and the tendons leading up to each of her calves. Each of her calves were extremely smooth and beautifully sculpted, probably from running in track.

I felt her knees with each hand, and noticed that her legs angled downward after that, to where she lay with her back against the pillows on the bed; watching me.

I moved forward, and feeling the smooth warm skin of her thighs, realized that she had pulled her skirt up to her waist. Her thighs were soft, muscular and absolutely beautiful. I wanted to kiss her there, up her thighs, to see what her skin tasted like, but I didn't dare; afraid to break the spell.

With my thumbs and palms against the soft inner skin of her thighs, and my fingers spread out atop them, I slid my hands upward; amazed at how smooth and hot and firm her legs felt beneath my touch.

Then I could feel the soft curls of her pubic hair against my hands as they conjoined between her thighs. She felt so hot there. I could hear and feel her breathing quickening beneath my touch.

Unable to resist, I went to my knees before her, and she took her feet off the armrests of the chair and spread her legs wide before me. I could feel the heat of her sex radiating against my face as she clutched the folds of her skirt tightly against her waist.

I wanted to feel all of her, every inch of her smooth naked skin, and my desire was so great that my whole body trembled with the effort of containing it.

Thumb to thumb, I placed both of my hands on the hot space between her thighs, my pinkies resting on the firm inner warmth of her spread legs, my palms and fingers feeling the curly softness of her pubic hair, my thumbs resting within the hot wet space between; where I could feel the nub of her clitoris and the parted lips of her labia.

Her breathing had become ragged, punctuated by gasps, and I could feel the quickness of her pulse where my thumb slid around her clit.

I imagined the heaving of her naked breasts as she tried to control her breathing; how erect her nipples must have become by then; her tightened hands as she clutched the folds of her skirt; her soft beautiful legs spread wide before me; her little toes curled in ecstasy, and wished that I could see again, just for this one moment in time, so that I could drink in the sight of her entire beauty at once as she writhed beneath my touch.

Still sliding one thumb around her wet clit, I inserted the other between the folds of her slick labia; wanting to feel as much of her as possible, both inside and out.

I felt her whole body buck then as the muscles within her vagina contracted around my thumb, and she moaned as her body shuttered; her hips making short thrusting motions so that my inserted thumb slid in and out as she climaxed with a violent orgasm.

She put both of her hands over mine then, holding my hands still within her, as the shuttering of her climax faded and she was able to eventually speak and breathe again as her heart rate slowed.

She felt so incredibly hot, I could still feel the heat radiating off of her, and smell her sweat; like the scent of roses with a bite of salt.

I stayed there, kneeling before her as still as possible, feeling the hot wetness and soft hair of her sex, and still couldn't believe this was happening; I didn't ever want it to end.

Still somewhat out of breath, she said: "Now it's your turn," and with the smile back in her voice: "I want to see what you look like."

As she removed her hands from mine, I reluctantly pulled away; arose, and sat back down on the chair.

I could still feel her wetness on my hands, and on an impulse, briefly put my thumb in my mouth to taste her. She was both salty and sweet, and I had a sudden desire to get back down on my knees and kiss her there; so I could feel her body writhing in pleasure in a way that was more than touch.

She was watching me, and must have guessed what I was feeling, and said softly: "I want to see all of you now."

I was suddenly gripped with a powerful sense of self-consciousness, and not a little fear. No girl had ever seen me naked, and I didn't expect that it would ever happen anyway. She just waited though, watching me.

So I took off my shirt; my shoes and socks; my pants, and after realizing that there was really no point in hiding my erection from her, I took off my boxers.

She was quiet as I sat there; I could feel her watching me. My hands were trembling again, not from desire but nervousness; I didn't know what to do with my hands, or how to sit. I was afraid of what she thought of my body, and all the scars I had there. I was still a virgin after all.

I had read a lot of books over the years; mainly science fiction and fantasy, and it's amazing what you can learn from books. Especially from authors like Clive Barker, Philip K. Dick, William Gibson, Joe Haldeman, Peter F. Hamilton, Stephen King, Fritz Leiber, Frederik Pohl, Dan Simmons, amongst others. Being a virgin, this is the only way I knew what to do and where to touch Ariel. Even so, technical knowledge only gets you so far, especially when you first expose all that you are to a beautiful girl for the first time.

Her continuing silence wasn't really helping me with this.

Finally, I hesitantly asked: "Is everything okay?"

She scooted forward then, so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed, and we were both seated inches away from each other; face to face. My heart felt like it was beating very hard in my chest.

"I was just trying to count your scars," she said softly.

I felt her finger on my leg then, "This one looks like a caterpillar," she said thoughtfully.

I knew which one she was talking about. Staples were used to close it, and when it healed, dotted scars had formed where the prongs of each staple went into my skin. So with the concentric dots on each side of the scar running down the front of my thigh, it did feel sort of like the outline of a caterpillar.

I explained this to her, and she was quiet for a moment. Then she said: "One of these days, I want to take a pen and connect all of them together."

I couldn't help but smile and laugh. "I'll do anything for you," meaning this absolutely.

"You don't have any scars here though," she said as her fingers gently touched the head of my erection.

I gasped, and my heart gave a lurch in my chest.

After a moment to catch my breath, I said weakly: "Well, thank God for that."

She laughed at that, and was quiet for a few moments; I could feel her looking at me. I wished I had some way of knowing what she was thinking.

Then she said softly: "I finished the literary piece I was writing for you," "Would you like to hear it now?"

A bit confused, I said: "Yes, please." "Should I get dressed before you do?"

"No," she said playfully, "I like seeing you this way."

"Ah," which is all I could manage as a reply.

Then, sounding hesitant, she said: "I'd like to try something different though if it's alright." "I'd like to read this to you first so you can see and feel it in your mind, like before." "But then, I'd like to do what it says afterwards," she continued. "Would that be okay with you?"

I didn't know what she had in mind, but she sounded so achingly sweet when she asked this, I would have agreed to anything she wished.

"Of course," I said smiling. Then feeling my heart pound a few more times in my chest with nervousness, I added: "I meant what I said earlier, I really do love you."

"I love you too," she said as she touched my hand with hers, and again I could hear the smile in her voice. I never thought hearing four words could make me feel so happy.

"Hold on." I heard rustling as she looked for something, then said excitedly: "Got it!"

Moving back to sit on the edge of the bed in front of me, she said: "Okay, just sit back and listen now, and try not to let anything happen too soon." "Remember, I'll be doing this after I read it."

(Ariel, June 2001)

"I want to suck your cock."

"I really want to suck it."

"I want you to sit before me naked, with your cock erect and ready for me to suck it."

"I want to strip all of my clothes off for you, so you can see all of my hot body."

"Standing before you, my long hair flowing down my back and the side-swells of my breasts; my cute little feet; my smooth flawless skin; my hands clasped behind my back; my flat tummy and narrow waist; my little bellybutton; my gently curved ass; the soft curly hair of my wet pussy; my full round breasts with achingly hard nipples; my soft red lips slightly parted; the lust in my eyes."

"I want you to watch me as I cup the under-swells of my breasts; as I suck on one finger, then trace my erect nipple with it; as I slide my hand down through the soft curly hair of my wet pussy."

"I want to crawl up between your legs, so you can feel my hot naked body there; the heft of my full tits resting on your thighs with your cock between them; my long hair flowing down my smooth back; my soft wet lips suckling gently on the head of your hard cock."

"I want you to see me there, beautiful and naked between your thighs; my hot full tits around your cock; my long hair flowing over the curves of my ass; my long lashes; my beautiful face turned down with eyes half closed; my soft warm lips parted as I suckle the head of your cock."

"I want you to feel my tongue as I lick the head of your cock."

"I want you to feel all of me as I lick and suck it."

"I want you to feel my hot mouth as I turn my head and wrap my soft lips and warm tongue around the head of your cock."

"I want you to feel me slide my tongue around the head as I suck it."

"I want you to see the bulge in my cheek as I suck you deeper into my hot mouth; my soft lips wrapped around the hard shaft of your cock."

"I want you to feel my small hands as I hold your cock between my breasts and stroke it between them."

"I want you to feel the warm slickness between my breasts as I press them together around the shaft of your cock."

"I want you to feel the heft and smoothness of my tits upon your thighs as I slide them up and down your cock."

"I want you to feel my tongue as I lick and suck the head of your cock while sliding my tits up and down."

"I want you to feel me as I flick my tongue faster over the head of your cock; my teeth gently holding the mushroom head of your cock."

"I want you to feel my slick tits as I slide them faster up and down your hard cock as I suck it."

"I want you to see the saliva running down your cock from my hot mouth to slicken the warm space between my tits as I slide them up and down."

"I want you to feel my tongue flicking faster over the head of your cock as it starts to swell in my mouth."

"I want you to feel my slick tits sliding faster up and down your throbbing cock while I suck it."

"I want you to see the lust in my face while my small hands slide my tits up and down your cock as I suck and lick the mushroom head."

"I want you to see and feel all of me as you cum into my hot mouth; the smooth skin of my naked body kneeling between your legs; the heft of my full breasts upon your thighs; my taught nipples brushing your abdomen; the warmth of my slick tits sliding up and down; my soft lips and teeth gently holding the head of your cock; my tongue flicking fast over the head of your cock around the spurting cum as I drink it."

"I want you to feel me as your pulsing slows; my slick tits moving slower up and down the shaft of your cock; my soft lips sliding over the mushroom head into a wet kiss; the tip of my tongue licking the tip of your cock as I gently suck it."

ariel   beautiful  

Apr 4, 2018 in blowjob

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