This never happened. I wish it had, but it's all fiction. Yulia never existed -- at least not in my world. So, read and enjoy but remember, it's MY fantasy, not yours. Please don't steal my fantasy without my permission.

Secondly, no one ever writes to tell me they liked my story. Well, ALMOST no one. I get maybe one acknowledgement for every 1,000 people who read my stories. PLEASE write to tell me what you liked or didn't like and help me become better at this. Besides, I like to have my ego stroked. A REALLY nice letter from a really sexy girl might even get me off. Wanna try.hel

Note to "P": I wish we could have a two-way conversation. Your comments are helping me write above the level of my competence.



                                                          Yulia Part 2 (You should read Part 1 first)
                                                      at:  http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/cyberguy

I sat there with my pants around my ankles, idly playing with myself and thinking of Yulia, for an hour or so. I hadn't noticed the time passing until I saw that it was dark outside. I'm not sure how long I had been hard again. I was enjoying that wonderful "drained" feeling that comes after cumming. Guys will know what I mean.

I would only have an hour and a half or so with her tomorrow. The question going through my head was how I could get her out of her clothes -- a big step for a 13 year-old girl who only today had gone beyond kissing. I knew she liked and trusted me and I wondered if that would be enough. I knew she would get out of her panties quickly but I wasn't sure if she would shed the skirt or not. Perhaps I should just crawl up under the skirt.

On the other hand, I really wanted to see her naked. I had a set of dark blue satin sheets saved for certain "special" occasions. Just in case I could talk her into bed on that second make-out "lesson," I would put those on the bed in the morning. It was only an outside chance but I didn't want to squander any opportunity.

My mind was also trying to picture what Yulia looked like under all those heavy and voluminous clothes. I could tell she was slim and had some boobs but how slim and boobs of what size and shape I had no idea. I really wanted to get her out of her clothes. How to do that in less than two hours continued to perplex me. My record, my personal best, with an experienced female was just under an hour. In that case, however, I was dealing with a woman who knew what she wanted and she wanted to waste no time getting to it. 

I made a sandwich for dinner and watched whatever inane programs were on TV for a while. Finally, I went to my computer and played some mpegs of old guys fucking preteens that I had found on the web a few years ago. Only a few had any sound and those that did had occasional grunts and short sentences in some slavic languages. I figured they must have been made in some place like Russia or Bulgaria. They weren't good but they were graphic and that's what I wanted. I came twice more while watching those fuck films, finally just oozing out a thick cream onto my hand. I was getting sore, too.

I slept fitfully that night, my mind churning out ideas for how to get Yulia out of her clothes. I finally decided I would go to the mall and buy a tastefully sexy nightgown for her; something see-through, of course. 

I was up at 6:30, all showered and shaved by 7:00 and out the door by 7:15. What I had forgotten was that the malls here don't open until 10:00. I bought a paper, found a cafe serving breakfast and managed to make a leisurely breakfast last until after 9:00. The mall doors were open but the shops closed when I arrived about 9:30. I took a seat on one of the benches inside the mall opposite a nice lingerie shop and read everything I hadn't already read in the paper -- real estate ads, pets for sale, business opportunites, legal notices (it's amazing how much money had been siezed recently by federal authorities).

I watched the salesgirls arriving for work. Some were particularly cute, probably only a year or two out of hight school. An older woman, maybe 40, unlocked the door to the lingerie shop, entered and locked the door behind her. A guy driving a machine like a Zamboni came by cleaning and washing the floors. A girl about 20 or so knocked on the lingerie shop door and the older woman let her in. It was 9:55. At 10:00, almost to the second, the woman unlocked the metal grating front of the store and pushed it to the side, opening the store for business. I walked in as she was locking that grate into the open position.

The young girl intercepted me on my way to the nightgowns. "May I help you, Sir," she asked. I HATE it when a girl calls me "Sir." I was 23 when it first happened and I figured right then that I was over the hill. Not so but I still hate it.

"I'm looking for a nightgown," I said.

"For your wife?"

"For my girlfriend," I lied. Well, maybe not so much of a lie. She was -- Yulia, that is -- but she didn't know it yet.

"We have some nice ones," she said over her shoulder as she led me to the back wall where a hundred or so robes and gowns were hanging. No robes, I thought, I want to see her body. Nothing in cotton, either. No little chickies or bunnies. I gravitated to the silk and chiffon (or whatever it is --  that see-through) stuff.

"What size is she," she girl asked?

"I dunno."

"My size? Bigger? Smaller?"

"Well," I mumbled, "about your size but taller."

I found a very sheer baby-doll with matching panties in a pale blue and held it up in front of the girl. "Would this fit you," I asked.

She looked at the label and said, "I would wear one size smaller but if your girlfriend is taller than me I think this one would be just fine. Also, we have a very liberal return policy so, if it doesn't fit, just bring it back." That was enough for me. I could already picture Yulia, looking very young, demure and sexy in this. Maybe without the panties. Hell, it was worth a try and, if she wouldn't go for it, I could always return it.

On my way to my car I passed a sporting goods store that had a display of  hockey jerseys in the window. Hell, I thought, if Yulia won't go for the nightie, perhaps she would wear a hockey jersey. It would cover her tits and butt and probably go halfway down her thighs, leaving me easy access to everything. She could be modest and sexy simultaneously. It only took 10 minutes to buy it and get on my way again.

"Damn!" I thought.  What if I get to fuck her? I'm sure she's not on the pill; not with parents like hers. I need condoms. I spent the next 20 minutes looking for a pharmacy and another ten minutes trying to figure out which I should buy. She's not gonna want ribbed. Scented won't help. Maybe a wild color to lessen her fears. Geez. Reservoir tip? Ultra thin? Shit, man. Just buy one. I bought bright blue to match the sheets.

I was home before noon and all I had to do for the next three hours was to chew my fingernails. I watched the stock market news, figuring that would distract me for a while. I have no idea what they were talking about; I thought of nothing but Yulia. I saw her standing naked in front of me: long slim legs, slim enough to let a little triangle of light through at the top of her thighs when she stood with her feet together facing me. A dusting of fine blonde hair making a little mustache above a very pronounced slit that disappeared between her legs. Two small round titties staring at me, square shoulders, thin neck, a Mona Lisa smile and eyes that beckoned me. Oh, if any of this turns out to be real I'll be a very happy man.

I had cold Pepsis in the fridge. But that would just slow things down. On the other hand, I couldn't just jump her as she walked in the door. Not cool. 

Finally, the knock. I was nervous, shakey even. Yulia's face shone brightly when I opened the door. "Hi, teacher," she said as she came quickly past me. I shut the door and turned around to be greeted with a long, warm kiss. We melted into each other's arms and I wasn't nervous any more. I was horny! My cock instantly stiffened and pushed against my pants, trying to rise. I'm sure Yulia could feel it, too.

"I'm ready for my lesson," she whispered as the kiss ended.

"Math?"

"Yes, silly. That, too. But I want to learn other things, too and I have a question for you."

"Ok."

"Momma says I can ask you to our Ukraine festival tomorrow. Can you come?"

"Is that a good idea?"

"Yes. You are my math tutor and momma would like to know you better and I don't have a boyfriend to ask..." Then she smiled and whispered in my ear, "...and I would like to know you better, too."

"Oh." I was taken aback. I had nothing planned for tomorrow, Saturday evening. Why not? "

"Sure," I said. "I'd love to."

"Oh, goody. I'll be all dressed up in Ukraine costume and I can wear makeup and heels..." She hugged me and again I felt those two points on her chest press against my chest. If she only knew what that did to me! "Now we do math," she continued, "and maybe later you can show me more making out?"

She said that as a question. OF COURSE I would show her more making ouy! I've never had a more willing student. To be accurate, since I fumbled around in the back seat of dad's car with girls in high school, the women I've dated haven't needed any instruction. Some were better than others but I never dated a virgin or, rather, was never the first to get into a girl's pants.

Yulia took the math workbook from her book bag and we sat at the table again to go over her lesson. After about 15 minutes, without only a little progress, she took my hand under the table and place it on her leg. "Can we do making out now," she asked as she leaned her shoulder into me?

"I would like that."

"Me, too," she said. "I take my panties off now so they don't get all wet. Ok?"

"That's fine, Actually I have a better idea," I said.  "I have an old hockey jersey -- a big shirt -- you can wear so we can make out easier."

"Oh," she said slowly, thinking about what this meant. "I can wear this shirt instead of what I wear now?" Still not sure.

"Yes."

"What will you wear."

"I can wear a robe if you wish -- or nothing."

"You would wear nothing with me?"

"Yes. When a man and a woman are together -- alone -- it is common for them to be naked when they make out."

"Don't they get cold?"

"Sometimes. If the room is not warm they will use a blanket or get into bed, where they can feel each other's bodies up close."

"Oh. Do you do that when you make out with other girls?"

"Yes."

"Do you see them naked?"

"Sometimes. And sometimes they will wear a nightgown at first. Most girls like sexy nightgowns."

She giggled and blushed. "I wear pajamas at home."

"Pajamas aren't sexy."

"Yes, I know. But I don't try to be sexy at home."

"Do you ever try to be sexy?"

"No." She thought for a while. "But I would like to -- with you."

"Seriously?"

"You are very good to me. You teach me things I don't learn anywhere else. You make me feel good when we make out and I want to make out more with you. I want to feel sexy with you. I think you are sexy."

"Oh, wow. You're being very kind."

"Can we make out now?"

"Okay," I said, smiling. She smiled back and moved my hand higher on her leg. "I have an idea," I continued. "Would you like to be a sexy girl now?"

"Sure," she answered, snuggling closer.

"I have a sexy nightgown for you if you want to wear it. It's VERY sexy."

"Maybe could I see this nightgown?"

"Wait while I bring it out." I untangled myself from Yulia and walked, almost ran to the bedroom to get the nightie. I brought the panties, too.

"Oh," she said, putting her hand to her mouth. "I can see through it."

"That's what makes it sexy."

"Oh. I don't think I could wear that. I would be embarassed."

"Ok. Then let's go slowly. Let me show you the shirt."

"Ok."

I dashed back to get the hockey jersey. She was still uncertain but more positive about the shirt. "Let me see," she said, standing and holding the shirt up against herself. "It's very big."

"Yes, it's supposed to be. It covers everything except your legs.."

"I will try this. Will I look sexy in this?"

"I think you look sexy in anything."

"I will use the bathroom to put this on. I'm afraid to be naked with you. I will see myself with this shirt on in the mirror first, then maybe I will wear it. Ok?"

"Ok."

"What will you wear?"

"What would you like me to wear?"

She giggled again. "Maybe you should be naked."

"Is that what you want?"

"No. I'm kidding. But would you be naked for me?"

"If you asked."

"Oh. Maybe I would be afraid. Do you have another shirt?"

"No. But I have a robe I wear when I get out of the shower."

"Ok. You wear robe." She disappeared into the bathroom, shirt in hand. I went to the bedroom, more nervous than I had been in years. My chest was tight with apprehension. I shucked off my clothes, threw on my robe and went back to sit on the sofa. 

I waited. I waited quite a while, maybe ten minutes, before Yulia reappeared. She stepped around the corner timidly and stood in the doorway with the shirt drooping off her shoulders and hanging down almost to her knees. Her legs were as I had imagined -- very long, very slim, very pale, very lovely. The calves would fill out in a few years and with some good exercise but, for now, she was just finishing a growing spurt where the muscles haven't kept up with the bones. Yulia's hair was in loose waves to her shoulders instead of the ponytail she usually wore. She was barefoot. She was a vision.

"You are beautiful and very sexy," I said from across the room.

"You think so?"

"I do."

"I was afraid you would not like me."

"You should never worry about that. I see a very pretty and very sexy girl standing there. I'm just glad the boys in school can't see you like this because then I would have to fight them for your attention."

She blushed, smiled and ran across the room to me, jumping onto the sofa with her feet drawn up underneath and her arms around me. "Thank you, thank you, dear teacher." Then she kissed me again. "Make me feel good again, ok?"

"It will be my pleasure," I whispered.

We kissed for a while and I let my hand roam over her shoulders and back. I could feel her bra strap. I stroked her hair, her temples and her neck before I moved my hand down over her chest. Her kisses became warmer as my hand slid downward across her breast. She turned slightly to allow me better access.  It wasn't the best feeling in the world, her breast through two layers of fabric, but it ignited me to the point that my cock was throbbing in anticipation and my heart beat wildly.

She either had larger breasts than I had imagined or her bra was padded; they were a good handful. I squeezed one gently and she emitted a soft "Mmmmm." I moved my hand down underneath and lifted. All I could feel was bra so I moved my hand around her back and undid the clasp. Yulia gasped but made no move to stop me. I moved my hand around front again and slipped it up under her loose bra. Nirvana. 

It was definitely a handful, soft and warm, spongy and topped with a very hard nipple. I ran my fingers upwards with her nipple between the first and second and then squeezed them together to trap it gently, pinching it softly. "Mmmm" again from her throat as her kiss turned hot and heavy. Her tongue pushed between my lips and filled my mouth. She was getting really hot by this time. Her breathing was heavy and rapid, her tongue was squirming around in my mouth and then I felt her hand moving on my thigh searching for the opening in my robe.

Even with no experience, Yulia's hand found my bare leg and then my balls. It felt wonderful to have her cupping my balls gently as we kissed passionately and I massaged her breast. Her hand moved higher and found my hard cock  Her fingers wrapped around it and she squeezed it, making it throb once.

"Oh, it moved," she gasped, breaking a ten-minute kiss. "Did I hurt it?"

"No, sweetie. It felt good, what you were doing. It does that when something feels good."

"Ok. What should I do?"

"Whatever you like."

"Your hand feels good, too."

"I thought you'd like it. But this is only the beginning of making out."

"I want to know everything."

"I want to teach you everything but we're running out of time today."

"What time is it?"

"After five."

"Oh 'bezesht'," or something like that she said. I suppose it was Ukranian for 'shit' or something. "I must get dressed." With that she dashed into the bathroom and I went back to my bedroom to change. She was out in less than a minute and, not finding me in the living room came into the bedroom where I was sitting on the bed tying my shoes.

"There you are. I must go right away." Then she noticed the turned-down bed and the blue satin sheets. "This nice bed, she said, brushing her hand along the sheets. "That very good bed for making out, yes?"

"A VERY good bed for making out.  But the most important thing is to have a beautiful, sexy young woman in it."

She caught the inference but changed the subject. "I will see you tomorrow?"

"Yes. What time and what is the dress?"

"I will wear traditional Ukraine dress. You will wear suit and tie.  I will go with my mother to the Hotel Regency at 7:00. You come there. Ok?"

"Ok."

She kissed me quickly and was out the door before I realized it. God, I was horny. These hour and a half makeout sessions were driving me crazy. I would get all worked up and she would be gone. Another night of Mary Fivefingers!



                                                       ---------------- End of Part 2 -----------------



Read all my stories at:  http://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/cyberguy

(Copy and paste this address into the address window at the top of your browser window.)

Needless to say, this story belongs to me. You can share it with friends but son't rip it off for any kind of personal gain without my written authorization.

                               --------------------------

I write, usually about a young girl and an older man, for my own pleasure. My stories usually have a kernel of an actual event in them but they are sheer fantasy. I will sometimes see a young girl at the market or riding a bicycle or waiting in line with friends for a movie and my body will literally twitch with excitement. Not just ANY girl; some girls. There is no way I would ever approach one of these girls but I do fix an image in my mind of their faces, figures, clothes and body language. I then dream, like a perverted Walter Mitty, about what might have happened had we actually met. 

Sometimes true stories are better than what you can imagine. Several readers have emailed me to tell me their own true stories, just like this one. If YOU would like me to turn your true story into a peice of erotic fiction, let me know. I'll write it if I think I can do it justice.

I always enjoy comments, good or bad. Nice things encourage me to write more. Critical things encourage me to write better. Please encourage me, one way or another, by emailing me at:

                         CYBERGUY20038@YAHOO.COM
Thanks.

