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From: Beeman <beeman@beeMman.free-online.co.uk>
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Subject: {ASSM} <*> "I Remember" {Old Drone}MF Rom
Date: Sun, 20 Feb 2000 21:10:02 -0500
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<1st attachment, "I Remember.txt" begin>
Usual warning applies. If you are under age stop. If erotic materi is
forbidden in your society stop. Copyright belongs to Old Drone 2000.
If you wish to comment on this story, please send good or bad comments
to: beeman@beeMman.free-online.co.uk
Remove the extra "M" for the address.
I Remember.
I can't deny it. I'm an old man now. Not so upright as I once was, I
admit, not so tall either, not strong at all, that's true. All true.
All damn' true. Down there, works still, don't think me a liar, it
still does, not often, I admit, but it does. Can't remember the last
time, but I tell you it does. Man has to have something at this age,
old age.
They tell me my memory's gone. Did I have breakfast? Must have, not
hungry at all now, and it's only ten in the morning. I'll tell you
though, there's memory, and memory.
I remember, the first time. Well shit, you remember yours, don't you?
I do. I still do, and I plan dying thinking of it. What a way to go.
Best way I can think of, and I've done some thinking, I'll tell you.
Any day now, I heard them say.
"Is he still eating?" First sure sign, they say.
Oh, my Lord, the heat, that blessed heat. The heat of her thighs, the
heat of the moment, the inside heat. Oh me! That heat. Nothing else
at all, comes close. I've been there, and I'll tell you nothing,
nothing at all.
The first time I met her, was so ordinary: a dance. A college dance.
She was dancing: long skirt swirling, smiling that wide smile. Fresh
as a morning plum.
Innocent, happy, joyous.
She met me. We danced. Well, we started falling in love that night.
Met the next day, for coffee. You know: the kind of coffee that needs
fifteen refills, and ten cigarettes. Well, we fell further in love
that day. Magic, I believed in magic that day. It was like the air
sparkled, shimmered. Her voice, like bells in my ears.
Shit, I didn't fall in love, I plummeted.
Well, we met, again and again. Kisses became cuddles, cuddles became
caresses, caresses became demanding. We wanted, we needed, we had to.
We almost did.
At her parent's house. She was sitting on a low chair. For some reason, I
was on my knees between her legs. Urgent kisses. That was it! To
kiss her, I had to be on my knees. Anyway, she was soaking wet between
her legs. I had my hand in there, feeling, arousing, trying to get her
to take off her panties. It was a "No".
Parents might hear.
Her long hair shrouded my face, as she leant into the kiss. Wriggling
with the passion, my hand encouraged. Still no. Then she whispered,
whispered in case the parents heard.
"Ask me again, tomorrow at your place, ask me again. Now go."
She was young. Seventeen she was, very young, and very wise.
The next day came, as it always does. Not as you plan, at times, but
it always does.
She arrived, and we had coffee. We cuddled, and she let me open her
blouse. She was beautiful. Puppy fat, still present on her ribs,
simple white bra, best one she had, worn for me. Far too good for me,
far too good. Lovely breasts she had, and silky, silky skin. Skin to
die for. The smell. Oh, oh, me. The smell of that skin. A hint of
soap, and all the rest: just her. We cuddled and kissed, then some
more, and the bra clip was undone with her help. No, I'm not that
clumsy. I wanted her to help, to underline where we were going. She
knew better than I. She had a map that day, and her destination was
marked.
She had small, neat breasts, very firm, pointing slightly out. Little
neat nipples leading her, pointing towards my bed. We slid off the big
chair and cuddled on the floor. Her skirt was well up, showing the
smooth plump thighs, I was stroking. I went higher to her centre, and
she struggled to open my belt. I left her to it, to underline again,
where we were going. She knew: she wanted.
She managed.
Then she opened the stud, opened the zip, avoided catching me there.
Clever girl. Her hand so cool. Me so hot, burning burning hot. She
said so.
It got silly, we agreed, and went to the bedroom. Well, floors are
hard. Mine certainly were.
We must have looked a right sight. Her blouse undone, bra drooping
unoccupied. Tits looking left and right. Very prettily, mind. Me
with my modest cock, sticking out of the jeans, I had to hold with one
hand. Did we care? No! I took off her blouse, and the bra. She took
off my shirt and we kissed. She put her arms around me, and I put mine
around her. We kissed deeply. Her nipples, hard against me, pressed
into my chest, pointy little fore-runners burrowing into me. The
glossy, silky softness behind them.
Oh, we kissed!
I dropped my hands, to her firmly plump, little bottom. Rubbed her
there. She squirmed herself against me. Torture. I must have found
the catch to the skirt, it fell. She tried to skin off my jeans and I
had to help.
She took my underwear with the jeans, stood back, as I got clear, and
displayed herself. She did. She knew. She stood there with her
little white panties on, with the wet patch showing proudly,
showing how happy and keen she was. Happy. The smile, her big smile,
said happy. Proud, sure: proud to be seen in her beauty, and why not?
We kissed. I slid my hands, rough hands, down her back, under her
panties, and knelt to take them over her little feet. Sweet feet. I
looked up at her neat, sparse brown bush, pink lips showing, shining,
breasts jutting like only youth can, and at the top looking down the
smile. The huge loving smile. I held her there, on my knees, arms
around her thighs. The side of my head pressed against her soft bush.
My heart bursting, her love flowing.
We clambered into the single bed. Arms about each other. Her left
breast found my armpit and fitted sweetly. We cuddled and snuggled,
skin to skin. Her skin.
Oh my.
As we turned, the sheet rose, and her scent, her girl almost to be woman
scent, spun my brain. We kissed. A cool hand found me, stroked me,
experimented with me. I found her, I knew. Her breath gasped, little
tight breaths, tighter. In my arms squirming, hanging, sharp nipple in
my armpit, then coming, calling her joy.
Telling the world: my man's made me come.
I waited, she calmed. I moved gently over her, and she guided me. Tight
shut. No entry. I pushed, she urged her hips towards me. "Ow"! Shut
tight. We tried.
"Believe me, we tried."
No go, dead end, shut tight.
Unhappily, she left. Plans in dust. No tears then, though probably
that night, her pillow was wet.
Me. "Stunned, I think. So close, so near."
The next time was the same. No, not true. We went to bed without all
the chair bit. And the next, and the next. She knew about being
rubbed with a lubricant now, and having her bottom kissed and her
centre kissed for hours. She found she liked a finger or two, in her
pretty bottom, she knew I did, too. She knew how to make me come, how
to suck me, although never to a come.
Never did come that way.
The next time we failed, she made an offer.
"What about the other way?" she asked. I was amazed. She was
offering her bottom!
Gently I said, "No".
Although the temptation, oh me. Never, was I so tempted. We tried
her pussy again.
No. Still shut.
The next time: we had both come and recovered. Playing in bed we were,
just playing, when I was in. Right in. All the way in. We looked
into our eyes, passion white-hot from nowhere. I pulled back, then
returned to her so hot depths.
"Oh! Oh, I do like that!" She said.
"So do I," said I.
Nothing wrong with my memory.
"Oh!" Said the nurse, in surprise, "he's gone smiling."
<1st attachment end>
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