By: Michael Lee

Copyright © 2000 by Michael Lee.  All rights reserved.

"You are the music while the music lasts" - T.S. Eliot

Since I was a young teen, I have walked through life with a soundtrack playing in my head. Every major event in my life has been stored along with an appropriate song in my sub-conscience. My memories are not of words spoken, but of thoughts, hopes, and dreams set to the rhythm of song. I heard music as I slept, and the first rays of morning light shining through the blinds were accompanied by the silent strains of chords and melodies. Once I recognized the pleasure music gave me, I took the next step from passively listening, to actively participating in its creation. I learned to play the guitar. Now, I could take my soundtrack with me. I poured over song books, choosing new ones to learn by comparing the lyrics to my given mood. If I could identify with the song's emotions, I would sit and play until it was committed to memory.

My soundtrack was now in full production.

The presence of this soundtrack was especially critical to my love life. Although I have had few true lovers, each one can be recalled by a few soft strums on my guitar, occasionally accompanied by quiet singing. Music has always played a vital role to my happiness, but lately it seemed to only document my misery as my path moved in unexpected directions.

The shift in my life can be traced to two events. The first was the start of my first job after college graduation. Instantly, I was transformed from a late-sleeping, hard-drinking reveler to a young man with responsibilities and goals. My focus changed overnight from acquiring babes to acquiring bonuses. I attacked the corporate world with the same energy I used to attack an unopened bottle of Coors. I put in seventy-hour weeks, turning the heads of senior partners and junior associates alike. I was on my way. Somehow, along that path, I put aside the things that I had loved. I spent all of my time in the office or on the road chasing new accounts. My love life vanished, along with my appreciation for the simple pleasures of life. The old guitar that had accompanied me throughout my formative years was laid aside to make room for my new passions. Money, my career, and success. I dated a few women, some for as many as several weeks, but they would eventually discover their place in my life and leave.

Ten years went by in a blur. I was in my early thirties, a man who had forged his success by working harder and longer than anyone else. I was in the rat race, determined to win at all costs. However, in my haste to succeed, I failed to understand the price I had already paid. The second life-changing event was at my door step.

All changed in the blink of an eye. I awoke that morning with a terrific hangover. Too much gin and not enough tonic combined to turn my stomach inside out while giving my brains a slight stir. I lay in bed trying to recall exactly what had happened to me. Vaguely, I remembered a party, a New Year's Eve party, and a girl. I rolled to the side, and caught a glimpse of an hourglass figure asleep next to me. Oh, God. Not again. What the hell was her name? How could I awake with a girl whose body I enjoyed but whose name escaped me? I tried to head off the inevitable by attempting to replay the torrid events of the party and the wild time that followed.

That evening, I went to a local pub with several friends from the office. As luck would have it, our group joined up with several girls from an office pool also celebrating the approaching hour of midnight. Immediately, I hit it off with a nice looking blonde, big smile, and even bigger tits. Her name was, what? It was one of those cutesy names, and it suited her mood that night. But the harder I tried to concentrate, the worse my headache became.

As the evening progressed, her body language left no doubt as to her intentions. As we talked, she moved ever closer, pressing her thigh into mine while looking deeply into my eyes. When we danced, she pressed her body into mine, searching out my growing hardness. We kissed deeply as we moved along the floor, and my hand was welcomed as it moved to her bottom.

The hours passed as we continued to drink, dance, and grope each other under the table. As we counted down the seconds until the new year, she whispered that she was ready to go home with me. To make sure I didn't misunderstand her intentions, she reached down and gave my balls a gentle squeeze. Despite my blood alcohol level, I was ready to fuck. And so was she.

The game began as soon as we stumbled through the door. Within minutes, her blouse and bra were on the floor, along with my shirt, tie, and slacks. I reached under her skirt to remove her panties, almost stumbling to the floor in the process. I vaguely remember her telling me how she wanted it. I think she bent over the armchair and pushed her short skirt over her hips to give me access to her pussy. Or maybe I just pushed her over the chair myself. Either way, we fucked that way for quite sometime. I know I enjoyed her. Who wouldn't enjoy fucking the daylights out of a hot blonde? But I couldn't quite remember what happened after I entered her pussy. The images from the rest of that night seemed to run together in a blur. Images of me fucking her from behind. The sight of her blonde head in my lap, her lips surrounding my cock. I remember her asking me if I had come yet. I know she climbed on top of me at one point, her shaved cunt noticeably swollen with pleasure. She must have been spectacular in bed, but for some reason, she seemed to be just another lay. I do remember one thing about that night. As I came inside her, the direct result of her astoundingly dirty talk, all I could think of was how to get rid of her. Now that I had fucked her, I suddenly wanted to be alone. As she rolled off my soft, wet cock, I turned away from her, quickly falling asleep even as she tried to move closer to me.

The next thing I knew, I awoke with a splitting headache and no memory of her name at all. Somehow, I managed to make small talk with her as I prepared breakfast without having to call her by name. Strangely, the mannerisms that I found appealing last night suddenly began to irritate me. The way she flipped her hair. The tilt of her head. And the casual way she talked about things, a false air of authority punctuating her opinions, caused my head to pound even harder. As she dressed and prepared to leave, she asked me if we could go out again that night. I fumbled some lame excuse about having to be back at work, and that I would call her sometime. Her expression left no doubt that she knew the score. Maybe she wanted more than a wild night of sex with a stranger, but in the end that is all she had left. I should have felt worse than I did, but at the time, she was just another way to pass time as I pursued my real dream. The dream of money, power, and my position on the corporate ladder. But the tables were about to be turned. Just as surely as I had discarded my New Year girl, using her completely for my pleasure, my company was preparing to discard me.

The first day back from the New Year's holiday, all employees were greeted by a corporate memo informing us that the company was to be purchased by one of our chief competitors. At the present time, no layoffs were expected, and work should continue as usual. But something had changed. Management would not look me in the eyes when I voiced my concern over the future of our company. That night, as I walked in the door of my apartment, I knew a change was in store. The signs were clear, and I was confronted with the decision I had avoided from my first day on the job. Was this the career I envisioned? Was this the good life that had been promised so many years ago? I knew where I could find the answer as I searched for my old friend. There, behind some dusty boxes in a closet off the guest bedroom, sat my old guitar. I opened the worn case, and my heart lightened as I felt the familiar balance of wood and steel in my hands.

The strings were badly corroded, and the guitar was sickeningly out of tune. Fortunately, I had a spare set of strings in the case, and as I replaced the dull, lifeless strings with bright new ones, I could sense the rust falling from my soul like autumn leaves. After I had completed my task and tuned it up, I sat down and began to play. My fingers, once callused but now tender, instantly began to hurt as I pressed on the strings, but the notes rang out clear and true. In keeping with my old traditions of equating my life to song, I began to sing an old spiritual I had learned years before.

"Lord I feel like going home.
I tried and I failed, and I'm tired and weary.
Every thing I ever done was wrong,
And I feel like going home."

As if in answer to a prayer, the sixth string snapped with a loud pop as I finished the tune. Apparently the many years in the pouch made the new strings brittle and weak. I placed the guitar on the bed, and went out to find new strings.

I ventured a few blocks to a guitar shop I once used to frequent. As I walked in the door, I noticed a sign on the door that read "For Sale: Inquire Within". I entered the store, noticing the impressive inventory of new and used stringed instruments. Acoustic guitars of all styles hung from the ceiling and lined the walls. Mandolins, classical guitars, dobros, and even the occasional banjo rounded out the stock. As the sales clerk approached, I asked him about the sign. It had always been a secret dream of mine to own a guitar shop, and with the situation at work looking gloomy at best, the timing seemed right. The clerk introduced me to the owner, a man named Jim Conner. He discussed his situation with the store, and we spent two hours going over the books. The cash flow was precarious, but the inventory was paid for, and his clientele well established. I made him an offer to buy the store on the spot. We negotiated the offer over a period of days, before all the terms were settled. Two weeks later, I tended my resignation and became the proud owner of "East Street Guitars".

Immediately things began to brighten. I now loved waking up in the morning and opening the store. I could sit all day, assisting people in choosing an instrument, watching their faces light up as they took home a dream. There is nothing like the joy of purchasing a new musical instrument. As music resumed its place in my head, my eyes began to open to the things I had been missing. My vision cleared, and my heart lightened. It was then that Carmen entered my life. I guess I was ripe for the taking, and inevitably my fortunes rested with the lightening of my heart.

It happened on a Friday, only fifteen minutes before closing time. The day had been slow, and I had let everyone go home an hour earlier. As I dusted the stock of instruments, a woman entered the store and walked directly to the display of Taylor guitars. I continued cleaning, hoping to finish before I offered to assist her. That was when her music entered my soul. She started by slowly finger-picking a song I immediately recognized as a country song covered by several artists, most notably one who had died from drinking too much. As her small fingers delicately picked the simple melody, I moved closer to watch her from behind. And then she began to sing. I don't think I have ever heard a lovelier voice. Each note was plaintive but true, and just as the words in her song, they spoke directly to my heart. I have heard better guitar players, and more gifted vocalists, but her cadence and rhythm moved me beyond mere technical ability. I let her finish her song before I spoke.

"That was lovely," I said, my appreciation showing on my lips as clearly as in my eyes.

She looked surprised as she turned and caught me staring at her. She actually blushed as she said, "Thank you."

"Could I help you with anything? Would you like to look at some other guitars?"

"Oh no, I just had a few minutes and I wanted to look around. I haven't played in months, but seeing all these instruments in the windows made me want to play again."

"Well, look around all you like. Play anything you wish. We are a friendly store, and my guitars are your guitars."

"No, really, I think I had better go now. You close in a few minutes, and I wouldn't want you to be late getting home."

"Actually, I don't have anywhere else to be, and I usually just sit and play for an hour or so anyway. Care to join me? I could show you our complete line."

She smiled and looked away, obviously pleased. "I would like that, if you don't mind."

How could I mind? She was the prettiest thing I had seen in quite some time. She had a slight frame, with a head full of dark hair, and dark sensual eyes. She was wearing a light summer dress, and it flowed deliciously around her smooth curves. She introduced herself, and extended her hand to me. I hoped she didn't notice my sweaty palms. I had been out of circulation for a while, and hadn't dated anyone in months. Most of my dates were of the two or three date variety, where inevitably the attraction would wear thin after the first night together. I immediately felt at ease with her, and we began to talk. We talked of our love of music, and our love of fine guitars. We talked about the fast pace of today's world, and the need to slow down, enjoying the little luxuries before our time here is done. I asked and she admitted that she was single. No, there was no steady boyfriend. We both recounted disastrous tales about today's dating scene. I showed her my favorite guitar, a Taylor 912c, well suited to her small frame. I sat down next to her and together we played an impromptu duet, an old Texas traditional about love and rivers.

As she got up to leave, I asked her to accompany me to dinner. To my surprise, she said yes. We walked down the narrow, tree-lined street to a small cafe, and we enjoyed a light dinner followed by a bottle of wine. As our conversation continued, we each learned more about the other. To my delight, I discovered she lived only a few blocks away, and that she once fantasized about a professional singing career. The only perfume she wore was Chanel, but her shoes were from J.C. Penney. She was a blending of bloodlines and cultures, with traces of Hispanic, American-Indian, and European heritage in the mix. The fire in her eyes gave mute testimony to the difficulties her ancestors faced.

As we walked out the door and into the dark streets of the city, she took my hand and smiled up at my surprised face. With a slight squeeze, she let me know how much she was enjoying my company, and I could not have been more excited. This was going much better than I ever expected. I was intensely attracted to her, and her spirit and personality spoke to me in ways I had yet to experience. I kept waiting for the punchline. For the sign from above that I was getting way ahead of myself. After all, I had now known Carmen for all of two hours, and now I was secretly planning a future for us.

We walked slowly up the street, neither leading, neither following. The night air was thick with humidity, and the city sounds accompanied the ever-increasing beats of my heart. I hope she didn't notice the slight change in me. My body began to betray the thoughts in my mind, as my increasing attraction to her led to a few uncomfortable changes. My palms began to sweat, my voice started to tighten, and most embarrassing of all, my cock began to stir. The feel of her soft, warm hand in mine, the smell of her clean scent, and the sight of her walking beside me brought new thoughts to mind. Thoughts that should have been reserved for the typical women I picked up in bars. Thoughts that would send any self-respecting girl running out the door. Suddenly, all I could think of was how she would feel sitting on top of me, her eyes closed in passion as her pussy tightened around my cock. God, what am I doing? I prayed she wouldn't notice my now fully erect penis tugging at the front of my pants. I decided to change the subject in a weak attempt to distract my increasingly impure thoughts.

"Those are lovely shoes Carmen. Did you get them at The Square?" Oh God. Lovely shoes? I wished a taxi would run me down to enable a graceful exit.

Carmen stopped, and looked at her feet. She then turned to me, and her eyes sought mine.

"My shoes? We have just spent two wonderful hours talking about the most passionate of things, and now you ask about my shoes? Come on, what is it? Is something bothering you?"

"No, Carmen, nothing specifically. It's just that, well, I don't really know how to say this."

"Then just say it." Carmen looked at me with an expression of warmth and understanding that eased my tensions. At least a little.

"Look, I haven't dated anyone in months," I stammered. "In fact, I haven't had a steady girlfriend in ten years. I don't think I know what to do anymore. What I'm trying to say is, I don't want this night to end. So, would it be possible to go out with you sometime? On a date, a real date. If you wouldn't mind, that is."

She laughed, and said, "Of course I wouldn't mind! I would love to go out with you. But who said the night has to end?"

Now my mind was racing. Did I hear that right? What did she mean? Is that a hint that she wants to go out dancing, or to a bar?

She answered my blank stare by asking, "So, exactly where do you live? It's around here, right?"

"Actually, it's only a few blocks away."

"So, what are we waiting for? You care to invite me to see your humble abode?"

"My home is yours. This way, please," I said, taking her arm in mine. We walked down the street in silence, stopping for the traffic lights, enjoying each other's presence. The awkwardness had now passed, and I was again completely at ease with her. The stirring in my pants had resumed, but I was no longer self-conscience about it. I wasn't born yesterday, and I knew what would be happening tonight. My heart was now pounding in my chest, and the image of her riding my cock had returned with a new clarity. She was actually coming home with me. I couldn't believe my good fortune.

Carmen would not be the first woman I had taken home with me. Far from it, in fact. Over the past ten years, I had taken home at least twenty different women. But none had come back more than a few times. And I had never felt the excitement I was experiencing with Carmen. This was so new, so different from the others. I knew the sex couldn't possibly exceed the anticipation I felt for her. The hunger that was building. I had been fucked many times, by women of all shapes and sizes, but I had never been loved. My desire consisted only of tasting them, experiencing their pleasures. I wanted to know them sexually, but I had no desire to know who they were. What did they like? What made them cry? What did they dream of and what did they fear? How would they feel as they made love, not as they fucked? Now, I had these questions in my mind as Carmen entered my home. I no longer wanted to fuck her. I wanted to love her.

We moved to the couch and I offered her a drink. As she settled in the corner of the sofa, I poured two glasses of the reserve vintage Cabernet that I had been saving for just the right time. As we sipped the wine, we talked of the good things in life. The importance of beauty in our surroundings, the value of a good book, and the strong hand music had played in shaping our lives. We discovered we had lived parallel existences, each searching for things that in the end proved irrelevant.

She had believed that a medical career would give her the respect she had always longed for. Years of intense study, followed by long, grueling hours in her residency, were finally rewarded with a medical degree and license to practice. And then she realized the respect she sought was her own. She turned her back on a lucrative specialty in favor of opening a general practice in this very neighborhood. Her only regret in her chosen path were the lives she had ignored in obtaining her goal. Her mother had died two years ago. At the time of her death, Carmen had not seen her in over a year. Her schedule would not allow it. She had spent her residency at a large hospital in Houston, and her mother lived several hundred miles away, in a small town near the New Mexico border. There would be time for family after she had completed her training, she had always said. Now, she would never see her mother again, and she would never have the opportunity to tell her how much she loved her.

Carmen had grown up without a father. She had been born in the same town her mother had died in. The same town her mother had been raised in. Carmen was the result of a one night stand with a Mexican musician, a man her mother had met at a dance. They had made love once, and she never saw him again. But her father had given her the gift of music, and her mother recognized it at an early age. Although money was tight, there was always just enough for music lessons. She tried piano, violin, and guitar. But it was the guitar that held her passion. She was taught Spanish style guitar by Rita Mendoza, a Mexican immigrant who taught her the passion behind the technique. Eventually, she learned to finger-pick delicate melodies, and her singing naturally evolved in the process. She had found her true love.

Her search for the love of a man would not be as easy. Time and time again, she trusted, only to be disappointed, or worse, betrayed. She had even been engaged once. She had dated her high school sweetheart for two years before he proposed to her on the steps of the local library. She cried as she nodded her acceptance, and her virginity was taken that very night, at the ripe old age of seventeen. But her fiancé was a local playboy, and eventually she discovered that the rumors of his infidelity were true. She broke off the engagement three months to the day his ring had slipped on her finger.

After they split up, she had taken her revenge by dating each of his friends. She wound up sleeping with them all, doing more damage to her already weak self-esteem. As the summer of her eighteenth year ended, she elected to attend the local community college. She found her solace from her tormented and broken heart in her studies. She earned a scholarship to the University of Texas, eventually enrolling in medical school. She never had another serious relationship, although she had many dates. Just as I, they fizzled after several dates. We agreed that our futile searches had only succeeded in wasting valuable time. Time that, with each of us in our mid-thirties, we could no longer afford to waste.

As if in recognition of the decade we had each lost chasing elusive dreams, we paused. Our silence was actuated by the lonely aria playing in the background. I put my glass on the table and leaned towards her to kiss her. Our lips met just as the soprano hit her high C, and the orchestra reached its crescendo.

As we broke our kiss, Carmen remained still, her eyes tightly closed. I could hear her soft breathing, and the gentle light from the room made her skin appear to glow. I took her glass from her, and moved closer, wrapping my arms around her, as she again turned her mouth to mine. With her eyes remaining closed, she resumed her kiss. This time, an urgency was born as our lips parted, and our tongues met for the first time. Each of us offered just the tips, teasingly dancing around each other. She was such a gentle kisser, but under her tenderness, I could feel our sexual tension mounting. She shuddered as I dropped my hand to her waist. Our kisses became deeper, wetter, more lustful as each moment went past. My hand crept lower, until it rested on the swell of her bottom. As I squeezed, I gathered the material in my hand until the hem of her dress was in my hand. I then slipped under her dress to caress the silk covering her firm bottom.

As I explored her bottom, my desire grew. Our breathing became heavier, and the explorations of our tongues continued as my hand slipped under her panties to firmly cup the top of her ass. As my fingers reached the top of the divide separating her two globes, I pushed down and into her.

Carmen broke our kiss and helped me remove her dress. She sat in front of me, naked with the exception of the delicate black panties she wore. Her breasts shone in the dim light, her nipples standing high in response to her growing excitement. Her chest rose and fell with each breath as she looked down upon her lovely breasts. Slowly, her hands rose from her lap, inching up the sides of her torso. She brushed her fingertips lightly up the sides of her full breasts, until she grasped each erect nipple between her thumb and forefingers. As she pinched, she closed her eyes and let out a soft moan.

I was mesmerized by the sight before me. Carmen seemed lost in her own private world. It appeared that she had momentarily forgotten I was there. As she pinched and tugged at her nipples, she began to rub her thighs together. Obviously, Carmen was an extremely lustful woman, one who knew what she wanted. I took the hint she was offering by leaning forward and kissing her neck as I replaced her hands with my own. Her hands were not left idle, and she immediately placed them on top of the silk covering her soft mound.

As I kissed the side of her neck and tugged on her nipples, I could hear her soft moans as she pulled off her panties. She opened her thighs and pushed her hands to her pussy. She thrust her fingers into her slit, moving up and down its full length. After several minutes, she removed her wet fingers and pulled me from her neck. She got off the couch, and sat on the carpeted floor. She stretched back until she was lying down, her head thrown back, her eyes tightly closed, and her thighs slightly parted. As she lay back, I took the chance to observe the beauty of the naked form before me.

She had pulled the soles of her feet together, and her knees were spread as her hands moved back towards her pussy. Her pussy lips were completely shaved, but the dark hair at the top of her pubis was trimmed in a neat strip. She began to finger herself, pushing two, then three fingers deep inside her glistening cunt. She danced the middle finger of her other hand lightly over her clit, pushing the tiny bud in time with her thrusting fingers. Her moans had turned to cries, as she passionately played with herself.

As I watched, I pulled off my shirt, pants, and underwear, and stood there with my cock pointing straight out. I had never seen a woman enjoy herself so thoroughly, and my cock was already dripping from my excitement. I wanted to help her come, so I lay beside her and resumed my kisses on her neck. I made my way down to the top of her chest, leaving a wet trail as my tongue and lips encircled her breast.

"Oh God, yes," she cried as my tongue grazed her nipple. She instructed me with her words as I sought to help her reach her release. "Suck my tit. Yes, just like that. No, harder. That's it, baby. Oh, God, yessss!"

She stopped talking and let out a long, low cry as her body shuddered beneath me. A few stifled cries marked her orgasm as her hand slowed, then held still. She opened her eyes and smiled at me.

"Oh, God, Keith. That was . . . heavenly. You don't know how good that made me feel. Feel my pussy. See how wet it is?"

She took my hand in hers and guided it to her dripping cunt. She held my hand over the smooth, wet pussy lips, and pushed my fingers inside her silky depths. I could tell she was ready for more, as I felt her cunt twitching from her previous climax. Her lovely walls enveloped my fingers in a warm, vice-like grip as she contracted her muscles around me.

"Could you feel that?" she asked.

"Oh yes, Carmen. God, you are so beautiful. And you are so tight. Can you do that again?"

She closed her eyes and squeezed her cunt again. I couldn't wait to feel her lovely pussy tightening that way as my cock filled her. But I first wanted to taste her. I moved down to her stomach, and she immediately grabbed my head and guided it directly to her pussy. She spread herself open to me, as wide as she could. She wanted me to see her, in every way. She wanted me to know her completely. There could be no secrets now as she opened her pussy to me. I moved directly between her open thighs as she pulled her knees towards her chest. The smell of her was so unique, unlike any woman I had encountered before. She possessed a lovely scent, a mixture of passions and perfumes. A heavy aroma of musk with an undercurrent of vanilla and spice. A scent that drove me mad with lust. I buried my face in her steaming folds, parting her thick lips with my fingers as I lapped at her core. Her taste was exquisite, a slightly salty, yet entirely natural taste. A taste of love and hunger. A taste of her desire for me.

She responded to my intimate kisses by thrusting her open pussy at me, rocking her hips in a testament to her love of my lips and tongue. She was at my mercy as I ate her, licking her delicate clit, while my fingers parted her smooth lips and once again entered her velvet canal. Her wetness coated my face, as I pressed my nose into her. I could have stayed in her moist pussy all night, consuming her lovely secretions as she writhed at the end of my tongue. I have never enjoyed giving pleasure as much as I did that night. On and on I went, until she softly announced that she was going to come. And come she did.

She closed her thighs against my head as her hands pushed me into her. She was panting, and calling out my name as she cried out.

"Oh, yes. Yess, . . . yesss, . . Oh God, nooo. Don't stop. Please, no . . . I can't stand it.

Oh God! Oh . . .yessss!"

I could feel the contractions as her cunt clamped around my fingers. I gently slowed my loving caresses as she calmed down. Her face and body were coated with a fine sweat, and her smell was everywhere. As I moved up to her face, she gently licked her come from my face, lips, and tongue. But Carmen wanted more and she reached under me to hold my cock. She smiled as she felt the heft of it in her hand, and I could tell she was ready. As she slowly stroked my shaft, I moved between her open thighs. She took my cock in her hand and positioned the tip at her entrance. And then she stopped.

"Carmen? You alright?" I asked breathlessly. I was tempted to just thrust my cock inside her and not worry if things were not exactly right for her. I needed my release more than ever, but something in her eyes made me stop.

"Oh, Keith. I need you inside me so much right now. My pussy is on fire for you. But, please, I need you to know one thing first. You are the first guy I've ever gone straight to bed with. This isn't like me. And I'm so scared that you will think differently of me. I'm not in this just for the sex. There is something about you that is different . . . somehow. Just don't think I am a slut or something like that. Okay?"

I didn't know what to say. I had gone straight to bed with every girl I had fucked in the last ten years. But I knew what she meant. After I had taken each of them to bed, something changed inside of me. I longed to fuck them, that is undeniable. But after the sex had finished, something changed within. It wasn't just me, several of the girls had responded in the same way. To paraphrase the old blues standard, the thrill was gone. Several times, I had dated the girls again, but the spark that ignited our passions always seemed to have been doused by a cold stream of reality.

The second time I was with one of my dates became my litmus test. Anyone can fall in love at first sight. All it takes is a glance from across the room. A few words, a touch. The intensity is driven by the mystery of the other. Then, you begin to learn more about the person behind the look. You discuss dreams, longings, and failures. Perhaps you make love. Then the next time you see them, a change has occurred. And the test has been given. If you emerge from the second meeting with a brighter smile and a warmer heart than before, then you have found love. More often, the second date leaves you wondering. Is this all there is? Let there be no mistaking. Love at second sight, not love at first sight, is the key to happiness. Until this moment, I had always walked away from the second meeting knowing that the girl of the moment was not the right one for me. Something was different with Carmen. I took her face in my hands and spoke to her.

"Carmen, please believe me. I would never have thought that of you. There is a connection with you that I have never felt before. This isn't about sex. This is an affirmation of something. What that something is, I don't know. But I want to find out. Let me make love to you Carmen. You'll see what I'm talking about. Then you will know. Then, we will both know."

Carmen looked at me with a smile of relief as she said, "Okay, Keith. I'm ready now. Will you please make love to me now? Please, fuck me. I need it so badly."

She relinquished her hold on my cock and pushed her hips towards me as my cock parted her silky lips. I held her tightly as I sank inside her, stopping only when our hips met. I was all the way inside of her and the fit was perfect. She wrapped her legs around me and held me still, relishing the feel of my hardness inside her. I could feel her squeezing me, testing her body's response to this new invader. Slowly we began to move. As I looked down at our union, my cock emerged wet and glistening from her pussy. The smooth, thick labia rolled outward as my shaft pulled free from her clutches. Then, they were pulled back inside as I began my assault of her delicate pussy. It was a fascinating sight, and her tightness only served to heighten the barrage her sex was having on my senses. Her pussy had asserted its loveliness by the sight of her delicate folds, the smell of her rich aroma, the taste of unique flavor, the softness of her vagina as it surrounded my shaft, and the heavenly chorus of sound as she voiced her pleasure. Carmen had captured my very soul as I plunged into her. As I fucked her, she bit her lip in a vain attempt to suppress her cries of passion. I could sense she was holding back, still not certain how her blatant sexuality and intense sexual heat would be received.

"Let it go, baby," I assured her. "Tell me how it feels."

"Oh, God," she cried, giving in to her feelings. "God I love to fuck. And you are so good, so loving. I've never had it this good before. Oh, God. Please, maybe a little faster."

I increased my tempo, until she cried out her delight. "That's it, that's just right. Oh, God, yess!"

I watched her face as we reached a new, steady pace. She was panting and crying out a continual expression of her pleasure. Her cunt was twitching as she reached between us to massage her love button. Her finger found her secret spot, and within minutes, she was coming.

"Oh, baby, yes. Oh . . . I'm . . . coming! Oh . . .yessss! Yes!"

By the time her pussy finished clenching my thrusting cock, she was ready for more. She placed her hand on the side of my hip, signaling me to stop.

"Keith, I want to be on top now. Let me fuck you, okay?"

Of course it was okay. In fact, it was exactly what I wanted. My vision from earlier today was about to be realized, and I couldn't have been more excited. I stopped moving and slowly pulled my cock from her wet pussy. As it fell free, I couldn't resist a quick look at her freshly fucked pussy. As I expected, it was just as lovely. I moved my face between her legs for a quick kiss of her well used pussy lips, noticing with immense pleasure how swollen they appeared. She seemed to be pulled slightly open, with her red core glistening in the soft light. Her wetness coated her inner thighs and soaked the carpet beneath us. As she pulled herself up, she returned my inspection with one of her own, reaching down to grasp my wet cock. A few quick pulls on the hard shaft brought a shimmering drop of fluid to the tip, and she bent towards me to taste it.

As her tongue swirled around my cockhead, I tensed, trying to force her mouth open. She noticed my urgency, and quickly assisted by opening wide and taking my full length slowly into her warm and willing mouth. She didn't stop until her lips were pressed into my pubic patch. I could feel the head of my cock slip inside her throat as she swallowed me. God, she was good. And obviously very experienced. I suppose that many men would have been concerned, in light of her assurance that she never fucked on the first date. First date or not, she obviously fucked, and fucked often. Her experience did not concern me though, and I believed her assertion that she wasn't that kind of girl. In any case, it didn't matter. The emotions she had opened in my heart were not founded on her previous sexual experiences. She could have been a common street whore and I would have cared no less for her. I was hers, and she knew it.

Slowly, she worked her way back to the aching tip, again removing the head and swirling her tongue around it. Then she repeated the move by taking my full length into her mouth for several quick and passionate sucks. The sight of her, with my cock between her full lips, and her hand gently playing with her pussy was almost too much to take. I whispered to her that I would come if she continued her talented work. As she pulled her lips free, she was almost frowning with disappointment.

"Oh, Carmen, you were incredible. But I want to come inside of you. I want to come with you riding my cock. That is what I need right now, baby. Please, let me fuck you again."

With a quick smile, she moved up on me, straddling my cock with her luscious hips. As she bent forward to kiss me, I felt her hand guide my cock to her cunt. And in it went. She settled down, impaling herself on my prick, enjoying the sensation of full, deep penetration. I could feel her clenching her muscles around me, milking my shaft, coaxing me to fill her with cum. She broke the kiss to sit up high and straight on my cock. She placed my hands on her tits, then lowered her fingers to her pussy. As she raised and lowered on my cock, she would reach underneath to give me a playful squeeze as my cock emerged from her. Faster she moved, as my hands roughly pinched and pulled her dark nipples. Then, as my passion began to peak, she reached behind me to cup my balls in her small hand. She was a vision of loveliness as she rocked and bounced on my shaft, squeezing my balls even as her finger played with her clit. I cupped her breasts in each hand as I approached the point of no return.

Carmen could feel my balls tighten as she spoke. "Come, Keith, come. I'm ready for you baby. It's your turn now. Please, fill me with you hot cum. Come as I fuck you."

"God, yes!" I literally screamed as I exploded inside of her. She held me tightly, feeling each spasm as my cum rushed into her waiting pussy. I could hear my cum as her frantic movements on my jerking dick worked my sperm into a lather. On and on it went, my body reacting with each orgasmic contraction from inside my belly. As it finally ended and my shrinking cock fell from her overflowing pussy, she slid her messy snatch onto my stomach, coating it with our fluids. Then, she spun around, planting her dripping cunt directly on my face as she took my soft cock into her mouth. I was momentarily shocked at her overtly sexy move, but my passion for this lady quickly removed my initial repulsion and I thoroughly cleaned her out. I began to love the salty taste as I licked every drop from her, as she in turn cleaned me. It was the most erotic act I have ever witnessed.

After we had consumed our love from each other, we lay side by side, kissing softly. I loved the soft feel of her as she pressed on my side. We shared each other's bodies, tasting every fluid, sampling all the special pleasures we could offer. We explored each other completely, and I touched her everywhere that night. We left no orifice untouched as we continued our explorations into the early morning hours. I knew her completely by sunrise the next day.

And then I knew. As she made breakfast, I sat down and watched her. Her movements spoke to me. Her voice moved me. Her opinions and beliefs as we talked during the day inspired me. And I knew what I had discovered. I had loved her at first sight, that much was certain. As she had played that love song in my shop, her music created the new soundtrack for the rest of my life. The next morning, and the rest of the next day, my feelings for her grew. My lust for her body was surpassed only by my passion for her soul. After all the years of looking, I had finally found my love at second sight.

THE END

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