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Even I'm feeling okay by now, wet clothes and all. Maybe this wonderful woman could be mine, at least for a while. The whole situation is full of intriguing possibilities. It takes me about an hour to get to the beach cottage. I carry my "prize" inside. Light as a feather she is, and I can feel her softness against me even through our clothes. As I approach my bedroom she starts to disturb, but only slightly. Still unconscious I lay her on the bed. Oh God she looks something else!
I suppose I could phone…get Sarah to help, but no. This is going to be wonderful, I think, knowing that she needs her wet clothing removed. Should I or not? Buggar it, why not? She's my prize, after all…and it's the right thing to do. Silently I remove her outer clothing, until I finally get her down to her underwear, and stand back to have a look. Words just can't describe the sight before me.
Oh…how can I ever control myself? Her breasts are so firm, the nipples sticking straight out. Not aroused of course, just cold…but they looked aroused. The aureoles are so large, I feel as if I could suck them right into my mouth…enlarging them, making them humongous. Panties…basic cotton panties, hiding everything. But what lies beneath? I'm longing to look. I slide them down, her little thatch of auburn pubic hair hiding a virtual paradise.
If only I could see inside there I wonder how many men have been there? Maybe she'll be mine alone. What a dream, what a wonderful dream. She lies so still.
My hand runs down gently over her breast, brushing the tips of her nipples with my palm, on down her side. My hand brushes across her tummy. She turns slightly, her legs open involuntarily. You can see she is unconsciously enjoying my touch. Oops, she obviously enjoyed that, but then so did I. I must stop now. The raucous cry of gulls pierced the early morning light. Were there birds in heaven too, I wondered dimly remembering my early church-bound religious training, or had my desperate lunge from the bridge taken me to another place?
Confused, my eyes scanned my new surroundings for a sign, any sign that would give me the answer I so desperately needed…but to no avail. If this was indeed the "other place", then I'd been aiming in the wrong direction. For here, the light tranquility that I'd chased for a lifetime filled my soul in abundance…carried on the delicate breeze that sighed intimately through the French doors and caressed my skin like the lover that had forever filled my dreams.
But was I alone in this whimsical world of fact and fancy, or was it in fact populated by others, perhaps the one who held the "pink slip" on my newfound paradise? Quickly I threw back the covers, my feet finding the finely polished hardwood floors beneath them, the satin of the sheets sliding sensuously across my bare flesh.
I'd had clothing when I'd taken my ill chosen leap last night, of that I was sure. How had I come to wake naked, and in this place?
Again my eyes sought answers in the dwindling shadows, until finally I turned and found a man, his body slumped uncomfortably in a nearby chair, his chin dark with morning stubble…sitting as though keeping guard over something too precious to allow out of his sight. He was pale, this man, as though he too had found the evening before more of a trial than he'd planned.
His long legs lay draped over the arm of the chair, his brown hair in wild disarray. This must be his house…his room I thought, guiltily taking in his obvious discomfort. It was his bed that I'd commandeered last night, while he tried to find some restless repose in the large, overstuffed leather chair on which he slept.
But my clothes…where were they…and who had…? And then a dim memory called to me from out of the fog. No…not a memory, more of an impression, a vague shadow on my memory of a voice…so soothing…. Had that happened, I wondered…was it real? Again the breeze from the sea beyond licked hungrily at my naked flesh, making me wish that I could forgo the conventions of clothing for the rest of my life…but of course, that couldn't be.
Even someone homeless, a street person such as I'd become, was bound by convention to that meager extent. Again I searched the room, this time seeking the soiled and sodden rags that had covered me the night before, but finding nothing. And so, with great reluctance, I wound the silken sheet about me, at once replacing the luxury of my sensuously unencumbered state with a soft kiss of delicate fabric that glided against my most intimate places as I crossed to the balcony.
It was beautiful here…so beautiful. It was a wonder that my eyes could be drawn anywhere else…but they were. Again and again I found myself stealing a glance beneath lowered lashes at my rescuer, for I was sure that was what he must be…sitting so nobly in the chair that he'd adopted so that I could fill his bed. Had he touched me, I wondered again…had he pressed his hand against my warm and willing flesh before retiring to his self-imposed leather-bound exile last night.
The thought made my skin prickle…grow hot and goose-fleshed with the thought of a passion I'd never experienced. If he had touched me…would he do so again? Would I want him to? I shivered involuntarily, my knees quivering at the thought. Would I, in the full height of consciousness be able to feel the warm touch of his hand joining us once again…and more? Would the fanciful yearnings of my secret soul finally find a home?
Slowly I slid to the floor, my back against the wall, and studied this man who had given me back my life.
I imagined myself kneeling at his feet in adoration… trust…submission, experiencing, wide-eyed the joys of passionate surrender that had only been a vague desire in the hellish life to which I'd become accustomed. We could live here…in Camelot…a dream world filled with erotic sensation. I could imagine his hands once again and forever discovering my secret passions, teaching me the ways of erotic love as we sailed through weeks and years on a sea of our own making.
It would be wonderful…perfect. In my reverie I'd failed to notice that he was no longer asleep…no longer resting in his chair but was now standing over me offering me his hand.
His hazel eyes warmed the air between us as he took my hand and raised me off the floor. Then, leading me like the child I felt I'd become, he guided me to a closet on the far side of the room, filled with the most delicate and feminine confections that I had ever beheld. It was a veritable treasure trove of light and swirling fabrics, exquisite embroidery, sheer and free-flowing in a fabulous mosaic that filled the tiny room.
She…was about your size, I think.
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