						LEILA		

Strolling into the The Cat's Slipper, I see her sitting at a small table off to the side of the dance floor, wearing a full length white weave dress with an audacious slit high up the side. Like a sheath the dress molds to her trim bodice suggestively. One leg is perched boldly on the chair next to her and the folds of the dress fall away as though she is at model shoot. The view is halting. Her legs are spectacular. She catches me staring while she adjusts her decorative stocking. She is careful not to cut the intricate weave with her long, manicured fingernails. Reactively I turn away, evenly breathing to calm my heart. I am elated to see her here. I have been visiting this club for a couple of years now, hoping to find my special kind of girl. Recently in the last month or so, she has been here and everything about her suggests that she may be the one. I desperately wonder if I will ever get the courage to speak to her, to be near her. Her hair is cascading, luminous, and white-blond; Her lips full and ruby red; her torso slender and tight; her hands thin, delicate; and those eyes, emerald green and striking. Sitting alone, she rebuffs other good looking, rugged, fashionable men who approach her. I'm no centerfold and it's pretty certain that I'm going to be rejected too. But what the hell. After two quick shooters at the bar, I have enough resolve to go over and introduce myself. The liquor greases the way. I stand, grab my water (yes, water!), and head straight toward her. The distance is great enough for me to be conspicuous. I cross my fingers. This is the closest I have ever dared to meeting her. Stopping at the table, I look down at her and smile timidly. Politely, I ask if I might sit down and join her.

She notices me and returns a welcoming smile. I still expect to be turned down. Surprisingly, she replies,
"Sure. My name is Leila, and you are?"  Her smile accentuates her request. How can I refuse?

"It's John. A pleasure to meet you, Leila."  Still standing, I watch her flawless mouth form a response.

"I noticed, John, that you have been watching me for a month." She stops and looks up directly into my eyes. Then a coquettish smile appears. "I was wondering if you were ever going to talk to me."
 
I melt. I'm shocked. I suddenly sit. A moment to recover and I smile hesitantly, trying to look sophisticated and cool. From the look on her face I see my approach isn't working. When in doubt, play it straight.

"I'm so embarrassed. You're right. I have been watching you all this time. I just didn't have the nerve to come over. And then I saw you turn away all those other guys...." My face turns pink. Despite my discomfort, I carefully watch her lips. They are perfect.

"Oh John, you're blushing," she grins. She has perfect teeth. A tip of tongue glides across her lush lips. Oh Man! Oh Man! She looks down at her lap to finish smoothing her attire. "I only did that to get you to come over and talk to me. Besides, I didn't want to talk with them. They're drunks," she quips. Looking up and focusing on me, she smiles, "And now you're here."  God, those lips. I inadvertantly start puckering and catch myself.

"I...I didn't know. I am such an idiot," I stutter mostly to myself. She giggles. Her green eyes flash approval. She rescues me by saying,

"No, you're just shy." Her voice drops an octave and becomes husky. "And I like that." A warm wave washes over me at the sound of her words. "You're sitting here with me and now we're talking." A pause. "I noticed that you're drinking alcohol tonight. Am I the reason?" she inquires delicately. I swallow.

"Uhhh....yes. I was trying to get up the courage to come over here and talk to you." I am now staring at the table top, unable to meet her eyes, uncomfortable with her discovery and the disapproval apparent in her voice.

"John, you don't have to drink to be with me. I appreciate what it took for you to make your move. However, it is not what I want. I think you're cute. Hmmmmmm, yes, very cute. But I have issues with men who drink. If you persist in drinking around me, we won't talk anymore. OK?"  I look up and see a unwavering look. Oooo, I wouldn't want to cross those eyes.

"OK," I reply with a blush and shame in my heart. I truthfully blurt out, "I think you're a living doll. I wanted very much to meet you." I smile at her and then look down at the table again. My embarrassment is heavy. I am kneading my fingers together. Her exquisite fingers reach out and enclose my hands in hers like a porcelan butterfly. So soothing. I visibly relax.

I look up and she is smiling into my eyes. She reaches over and with surprising strength pulls me close to her.
  
"Shut up and kiss me," she hisses at me. Her voluptuous lips crush against mine. There is no escaping. And neither do I want to, for I am kissing a goddess.

"Hmmmmmm," she moans into my mouth, her tongue invading me like a snake, alive and twisting. Engaged, I reach to touch her face. My fingertips dance lightly over her flawless skin. Her silky hair bathes my forearm. I am in heaven and wish this moment never to end.

Our intimacy must end and when we break for air, everyone in the club is watching us even as the music plays and no one is dancing.  We both blush and laugh at the awkwardness as we hold hands and look into each other eyes.  
"Would you like to dance, Leila?" I murmur.  Without an word she leads me onto the middle of the dance floor. We are solo. I try not to notice this.

Mercifully the DJ starts with a ballad of love and romance.  Others merge toward the dance floor as Journey starts playing. She molds her statuesque body into mine as we begin dancing. A perfect fit. My hand slides down her slender back and rests just above her pear-shaped derrierre. I crave to caress her firm flesh. I barely resist. I remind myself to be a gentleman. My face brushes up against her hair and I breathe in a bouquet of lillies. She smells so good. I feel nuzzling at my neck, lips skimming lightly the sensitive skin around my ear. Soft puffs of air are blown at me. I flush. I want those lips to be everywhere on me. Fingertips replace lips. My skin tingles as these nails lovingly tease and play. So erotic and commanding. Another rush washes over me as I get major goosebumps. Her parted mouth moves to my ear and I am again a slave to her pleasing breath. Lips caress the ridges on my ear as soft obscenties are suggested. I think I feel a darting tongue. The roar of my blood is deafening. I'm dying here. I don't believe my feet are moving at this point. I am Jello. Somewhere I hear a carnal chuckle as she untangles herself from me and we are forced to dance again.

I lose myself in the music and her company. My fingers play freely in her long, sleek hair, caressing it gently. I wrap its strands around my hand, while twisting the silky locks in and around my fingertips.  I ache for her and whisper in her ear, 
"You're so beautiful, Leila. You grace me with your touch. I am so happy to be here, holding you on this dance floor. I feel as if we are alone."  She looks momentarily at me. Her eyes speak volumes as they glisten in the nightclub light, and we become one. Our chests become joined. Our crotches fuse to each other's leg. We move as one animal.

"Don't talk. Just hold me, John. Please don't let me go," she breathes in my ear, kissing it softly with her soft, sweet lips. I squeeze her even closer as we dance. We are at peace being near one another. Her body expels so much heat that there is no doubt she wants to be with me. I want to be with her. This is a long-time dream come true. 

We chat and dance and body rub for hours until the club closes down and we have to leave. As we gather our things, stools and chairs are being tossed up on the tables, clearing a path for the night crew. Walking out hand-in-hand, Leila snuggles up close to me, her body still emanating warmth. Her hands are so fragile and soft in mine. The night breeze blows her silky hair over my skin. Her hair spilling on me is such a turn-on. Its waves and curls catch the night light and shimmer as we pass from one streetlight to another. Tonight she is the most beautiful girl in the city.

I learn that she doesn't live far from the club and we end up in front of her apartment building. It is an old brick building and I can tell it has plenty of history. She turns and looks at me hesitantly, her head cocking slightly to the right.  

"What's the matter, Leila?" I ask nervously. I am fearful to let her out of my sight. If this night doesn't continue from here, I might not see her again and it won't be my choice. I take a chance.

"You don't have to ask me up if you don't want too." I say this to give her peace of mind since she seems to be pondering whether or not to invite me up. I keep going.

"Look, I understand if you're nervous or afraid of what might happen.  I know lots of women who don't let their first date in their house. I'm OK with that." She giggles as I finish the sentence. I am confused. This is not the reaction I expect. She looks at me and says,

"That's not the problem, John. I want you to come upstairs. It's something else I haven't worked out yet."

"Oh. OK. Is it something that I can help you with?" I try to sound helpful. Please, please, please.

She looks at me with a vacant expression. I can see her mind's gears working furiously. I wait her out. She just looks at me. Silence ensues. I realize that she is in no position to be cornered by this problem and will just as soon let it all go and write off the night. For me that cannot happen. So I surprise her by saying,

"I know all about you, Leila. I know you have something special about you. Something beautifully special. To me," I smile conspiratorily. "Let's just say you are an extra Special girl." I say this with the most loving smile I can put on my face, as I look directly into those dreamy eyes of hers, so green, so alive. Silence follows as she peers at me.

"What do you mean, 'special'?" she asks. It is apparent that she is not relaxed right now. Her eyes challenge me. I will die first before I hurt this girl.

"Special," I evade. "Can we just hug right now for me to make sure, please?" She folds into me gently for full body contact. "I thought so," I whisper in her ear. "I can feel you, you know. And I want to see you even more."
  
Silence. Then in my ear she whispers back to me. "Tell me, John. Say the words, honey. Tell me what makes me so special." She is gripping me. She is fragile. I realize that I am more than just a one-night stand. She sees rightness in me, rightness for her and me to be together. My words have to be right and perfect for me to pass this one last test. To be with my princess. We haven't stopped embracing. I whisper in her ear with all my heart,

"I think you are one of God's most beautiful creations, Leila, a beautiful penis on a fabulous woman's body. And I can't think of anything more right than for you and me to be together."

No words follow. I feel her embrace constrict. She answers my words. She pulls away from me and turns toward her apartment, taking my hand. I am led through the building doorway, up the stairs, down the hall, to the third door on the right. Nothing has been said. We enter and she turns on a set of bright pink neon lights on the wall. Whoa! Her apartment glows in hot pink. OK, it least it radiates a woman's touch and it is pleasing to me. Sort of. I look around for anything with normal lighting but she stops me. She finds ambient lamps to turn on. Ah, that's better.
 
"Nice place. May I sit down?" I am standing next to a beautiful pristine white leather couch. I know enough not to sit on it without first asking.
  
"Of course. It doesn't bite." Then she smiles lasciviously and suggests, "But I do, just ask me," and walks away into her bedroom. I hear drawers open and closets close. From the bedroom I hear,

"I'll be right out, John. There is Coke in the bar if you want some. I don't have any alcohol." 

"That's OK. I don't want any. I'm already high with you."  I put a smile in my voice. A wanton giggle drifts from the bedroom. I locate a Coke and sit down, surveying the living room. Modern furniture with hardwood floors. I like her taste in the art that hangs from the walls. Looks like a spacious upscale one bedroom apartment overlooking some sort of park below, with kids' swings and the usual structures. I detect movement at the bedroom doorway.

She exits her bedroom in a full length, fluffy-soft, white robe, wearing underneath what I think is a blood red Teddy. Oh Man! Oh Man! What a sight! Promises of titillation spring to mind. I show great restraint as she walks closer, her spike heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Unblemished legs flash out from beneath the robe as she struts toward me. She has legs that are smooth as baby skin and tapered for trouble. I am captivated by the motion as they knife out. I realize I am drooling.

"You approve of what I am wearing, John?" she baits, licking her lips. I squirm in my seat trying to act unaffected. Her voice is husky and her attention is acutely focused on me. Her eyes never leave my face. She knows I am twisted inside watching her parade before me, knowing her delectible attributes are just out of reach.
 
"Ahhhh......yes. I am very into it," I gulp. "God, you look great, Leila. Ahem...well...is it hot in here, or is it just me?" She laughs at my attempt at humor, knowing full well that it is no act. She twirls this way and that, letting the hem of the robe flair out, revealing a pair of spectacular legs, Marilyn Monroe style. I am transfixed. I pray her robe flies off. I want to see more of that luscious body in the red Teddy. She saunters over and parks herself on the couch next to me. Demurely like a refined madam, she covers herself up. I am dying here. She giggles delightedly. She truly relishes the tease. Such pure, candid bliss. I'm in love with her and the moment. She stops her merriment and stares intensely at me. Her green eyes flash flecks of sparkle as great tenderness is communicated. I stare back completely lost in them, accepting this precious gift. 

Abruptly she stands in front of me between my legs, her stance flaired like a dominatrix. Her robe unfurls like the morning flower showing me its gynoecium. Red. Tight. Inches from her I witness the outline of her stamen. I am eye-to-eye with her most private pudendum. Coiled down and back as a fleshy mound, it fills the flimsy fabric of her Teddy. I am seduced. I stare and study her heavenly details. Above, Leila shows patience by permiting me to rape her with my eyes. It is erotic for her to have me worship her sexual center. Her mound puffs slightly in response. Blowing gently at it, I tease her back. It twitches some more. I cannot refuse any longer and lean into her world. A soft kiss is planted on the coiled hardness. I feel heat and smell passion. I kiss her cramped appendage again and again, loving the tenderness and the wickedness of the act. Hands stroke my scalp, messing my hair, as she enjoys the promise of my love. My nose nestles her groin and I savor the center of her essence. So feminine. So shemale. So sexual. Looking up I innocently ask to have her remove the Teddy but keep the robe. Her eyes smolder with need, but she manages a smile at the suggestion and walks away again to her bedroom. I am sitting stock still, holding my breath.

She dallies as she returns, smirking, all bundled up in soft white, holding the robe like a Hollywood actresss, tight across the neck with both hands. The middle is belted, but something is bouncing from within. My balls retract at the thought of what that might be. She is teasing me again. This time she is shoeless, more feminine, more fuckable, her small feet padding silently across the cold floor. She strolls right up to me, stops at the edge of the couch. Looking up, I gaze upon the face of an angel, a very aroused angel. My God, I love this girl. I encircle her waist and press my cheek against the robe where her stomach would be. I feel something stabbing me. I ignore it but secretly thrill to its discovery. My heart is beating so hard. I am as excited as she. I hold on to her, letting my hands on the outside of the robe finally stroke her buttocks. They are firm and defined. She drops her hands to my shoulders and caresses the back of my head and neck. It is both soothing and loving. We strike the pose awhile longer until I surrender. 

I fish my hands down under the robe hem and cup them to savor her golden skin as I slowly glide up the backs of her legs. I reach her ass globes which I lovingly grasp and cherish. Oh God! Back down again. Up. Down. Up. Down. Slowly, oh so slowly. Her legs are sleek and smooth and firm. I want to hump them like a ravenous dog. She encircles my head with her arms and hugs me tightly, displaying a devotion I so crave. I extend my hands up her back until I can just reach the tops of her shoulders. Then back down to those lovely buttocks. Back up again. Then down. I am enjoying her creamy skin in between. Up and down. I move my hands around to her stomach and her belly flutters as I touch it for the first time. She is flat and firm. The "V" opening in the robe has yawned wider as she reacts to my ministrations. Her breasts peek out for the first time. She allows me to caress them. They are small to medium but perfectly round and firm, standing up on their own volition. Bronze hue except for a white circumference just outside of her aureolas. Guess the sun missed that part. Her titflesh is creamy and young, begging to be kissed. And so I do. My lips melt into each breast wall. Such a pleasant aroma emanates from her body. I press into the valley on her chest, breathing in her scent, feeling her breast meat kiss my cheeks. I'm in heaven. I suckle her nipples and grin as they pucker and crinkle against my lips. An involuntary moan escapes Leila's lips. She is becoming more aroused. Her arms again encircle my head as my lips and tongue attend to her sensitive and taut nipples. I lash my tongue back and forth across the crinkly protuburance. Then I suck. She is sighing my name over and over.

My queen is ready. I am ready. We part to allow me room between us so I can discover her friend who is still held captive. I unbelt her robe slowly. As the edges part I see darkness inside. Then a flared head pokes out and the engorged shaft settles into a yawning pose. Her cock is cut, pink, and slender. In short, it is incredibly beautiful. I just stare, mezmerized by this regal organ. I am enthralled by its rigid overture. There is no blemish or discoloration. She is as stiff as iron. It bobs to her elevated heartbeat. I bend slightly to pay homage and press my lips, oh so gently, against the apex. My lips linger, trapping the cusp of the head, as I savor its spongy firmness. Beneath the flared helmet, there is steel.  My lips oval to allow a little more of her to intrude, flicking my tongue into its piss slit and wriggling it around a bit. Abruptly Leila gasps and clamps my head in her hands. Her nails are like claws. God! I'm lovin' it. I am barely in control of this she-demon. Sweet precum is free flowing. She is horny and ready, ready to impregnate my mouth. I force her cock to slide agonizingly slow all the way into my mouth; my tongue is sucking and lashing as the head approaches my throat. Gutteral epithets and hissing are heard from above. She is vibrating like a tuning fork and her need to release is burning. I am subjugated to impulsive lunges of her shedevil cock. I would rather enjoy the exquisite contrast of her cock texture, the soft spongy head flesh against the rigid taut steel-like shaft, but she won't have it. 

So I acquiesce. Leila pilots her erection in and out of me, repeatedly bumping the back of my mouth. I reach around and grasp her ass cheeks to quell her. She understands and pauses her effort. I permit myself the luxury of being engorged by this woman. My lips are a scant inch from her powerful, shaved pelvis that looms before me. Her fertile scrotum is already puckered in preparation. I am filled with she-devil she-cock. The crown of her sex is idle at the entrance to my throat . I try to relax and enjoy this. God, I love having my mouth glutted with her inflamed prick. I try swallowing her as I too am horny. I need more spit. But she won't abide. Impetuously she bulldozes her cocktip into my forbidden zone. I close my eyes and gag back any choking reflex. I let her have her way. I am her throat-fuck, her vassal. She mounts her assault. As her cock rapes my throat, she propels my head up and down in concert to her relentless thrusting. I feel used. Thank God she isn't large. My tongue never stops lashing and whipping her undercarriage. I seek out her ball sack and tickle and cradle her delicate testicles. Her cries have intensified in their obscenity. Her stabbing is savage. She is close. So close. Her grunts and gutteral squeals are now in sync with her aggression. My eyes are tearing. Clamping my head and spearing me deeply, she suddenly arches and utters a primordial scream. I stop breathing. I delight to tremendous heat and a deluge of sweet bitterness in my throat. Incoherently she jabs me again as another large column of sweet sperm is deposited deep within me. Yet a third violating jab fills my throat with more bittersweet semen. Finally I savor her essence as her successional ejaculations diminish in strength and volume and now dribble onto my tongue. She returns to being docile and practices a more cultured mouth fucking. Her cock size is perfect for this. I let her complete her copulation. I am at peace.