His Dream Girl

John sat on the bench in the park, as he did early every morning. He had his study books beside him, and listening to one of Chopin’s Nocturnes on repeat. He checked the time – there was a few minutes before she would be there.

Camille jogged past this spot every day, and always gave him a smile that made his heart leap. She was lovely; he adored the way her long honey-blonde hair seemed to float behind her as she ran, and he admired her athletic, yet still womanly physique. But she didn’t know him, and she had an equally athletic boyfriend.

John closed his eyes for a few moments, waiting to hear the familiar sound of her footsteps. His breathing slowed as he relaxed, and he let out a deep, deep sigh.

He heard the sound of her feet pounding the path, and he opened his eyes. She was wearing something different today; a blue vest top and short skirt. She stopped right in front of John’s bench, something else that was unusual, but she didn’t look at him. She bent down in front of him, stretching her legs, and revealing her scant while panties to John, under her skirt; John gasped, and she turned around to face him.

“Are you looking up my skirt?” she said as she stood, hands on hips.

John was flustered.

“I… I… I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

She strode up to him, and lifted the front of her skirt.

“Can you see better now?”

John just looked at her eyes, horrified, not daring to look below.

She climbed onto the bench, standing astride him, and lowered herself so her knickers were right in from of his face.

“Is that a better view?”

John tried to regulate his breathing, excitement and fear taking hold in equal measure.

“Or how about this?”

She pulled her panties to one side, giving John a view of her shaven pussy.

“Do you like what you see?” she demanded.

John looked up at her face, and swallowed.

“Yes.”

She smiled at him; it seemed to send a warmth through him.

“Would you like to lick it?”

He brought his breathing under control before answering.

“Yes?”

She smiled a wide toothy, mischievous grin.

“Then lick it,” she said softly/

He stuck his tongue out, and moved in closer to touch her skin, and started to lick around between her legs. Her scent aroused him, and she tasted sweet. He gained a little less intimidated as his own urges began to take form, and he grabbed her thighs, and thrust his deeply tongue into her.

“Yes!” she exclaimed, as she pressed herself harder against his mouth.

He squeezed her thighs, and alternated between thrusting his tongue in and out of her with licking around her opening, flicking her clitoris as he did so. She moaned; it is was music to his ears. He pressed on with his tongue, and she pressed harder against his head, he happily lapped up her sweet juices.

Suddenly, she moved off him. John was taken by surprise. She looked around, grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bushes. John was about to protest about leaving his books behind, but she kissed him on the lips, full on, passionately. John felt his cock straining against his trousers, and so did she; she quickly unbuckled his belt, had his trousers around his ankles and was licking and sucking him in almost no time.

It was John’s turn to moan; she stopped a shushed him, before resuming her fellatio. John felt light headed. He clenched his fists tight to resist the urge to pour out into her mouth there and then. Somehow, he managed it, and she pulled him onto the ground, and slowly lowered herself down upon him. Her warm, wet pussy squeezing his engorged cock almost made him come there and then, but he managed to hold back; he wasn’t going to last long, but he was determined he was going to make it good for her.

Then she began to grind her pelvis into him, moving it around and up and down. John resisted the urge to close his eyes to enjoy the pleasure, instead opting to watch the face of his goddess as she took her pleasure from him, her breasts bouncing as she fucked him. She began to moan loudly; John felt vulnerable, her being loud, and they being in a public park. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to hold back. She threw her head back, and started screaming.

“Oh! John! Yes, John! Oh, John! John! John! John!”

“John?… John?”

He opened his eyes; he was on the park bench, and Camille was crouched before him, wearing a white vest top, and her usual shorts.

“John? It is John, isn’t it?”

John nodded, and tried to recompose himself. She sat beside him, her lovely legs crossed; John hoped she didn’t catch him looking.

“Are you alright?” she asked, concern in her voice.

He didn’t know she knew his name.

“I… I … I think I just fell asleep,” he managed to say.

She looked at his books.

“Chopin? Is this what you’re practising?”

“Yes. I have an exam coming up.”

“Well good luck,” she said as she stood. “See you around.”

She began to run off, with John staring at her, mouth agape. Then to his surprise, she stopped, and took a few steps back toward him.

“I have two tickets to see La Bohème on Saturday. Would you come with me?” she asked.

“S-s-sure,” he stammered. “But won’t-“

“He’s not interested. He’s off with his mates to see some metal band. I’ll pick you up six at your place, and then we can go eat first. See you then.”

With that, Camille waved and ran off.

John watched her in amazement, his heart pounding.

She knew where he lived.

 

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About ~T~

Saucy scribbler of fun, filth and fornication. Gentleman and Master of his own Domesne. On Twitter @Author_TMasters & facebook.com/Terry.Masters.BDSM.Author/ View all posts by ~T~

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