Fantasy story- How we finally met, parts 1-4.
“How we finally met”
A/N: The story below is the first section of what will probably continue for many more. It is partially condensed from the full-text, with some details omitted to make it more enjoyable as a quick read: the full story may have the length of a complete novella.
I wrote this story partially as a cathartic exercise, and also to detail what my ideal girlfriend – described by my compound-word “loverslut” - would basically be like. There is some exaggeration but most of what is written below is based upon things I have heard of, seen, been around, experianced, or otherwise have encountered directly and so the basis is quite real. It almost feels like I am writing a journal-entry, actually.
It unfolds slowy, so don't expect anything hot before part 3.
I hope readers will comment, critique, and enjoy!
Part One: Background, Setting, and Character.
It was one of those warm and clear days around the end of June, around the Solstice-day and decidedly comfortable for Northern New Jersey at this time of the year. I reasoned that to be a good omen, having been languishing in a personal slump after allowing mutual lust to cause the lose of the relationship with one of my best and closed friends. Finally I got the energy to take up my friend Andrew's invitation to a two-day shindig he was organizing.
Andrew's grandparents had long lived on a remote property in Warren County, in the western north of the state: with their savings though they bought a cottage in Montauk (Long Island) to spend summers. Perhaps already becoming senile, they left Andrew in charge of the house while they were out.
The location was well secluded and set on a hill covered in trees and brush, and with areas of farmland beyond that. Reaching the place is already somewhat tricky but with several bridges washed-away by a recent hurricane one can no-longer trust GPS-mapped routes.
I am Vasily, by the way. Typical Russian name, but my f****y isn't Slav: “Germans from Russia”, the census-bureau calls us.
Part Two: Arrival
I started the trip quite late after managing to break a metal clip which holds the main headlight-bulbs on my car in-place whilst trying to change them out. It'd be dump trying to take my already worn Focus there like that, so I had to go to my friend Tim's to borrow the Ford Ranger shared between him, my b*****r, and I. I get there and find that he is out on his bike and apparently was halfway through an oil change... easy enough to complete on my own, but now I guess I'll be showing up with my arms stained by the mess.
Now Andrew made it sound like this would be just a regular time, but Andrew doesn't always stick by such statements... everybody remembers Andy's “Naked Tuesdays” when he was living in a crummy set of tavern apartments along with at-least a dozen other people. Pretty frequently they turned into mini-orgies with whatever transient women were there at the time.
He's calmed down a little, but this might be too tempting for his repressed hedonism.
Reaching the only thirty-minutes before midnight, it was pretty obvious the party was well underway: cars filled every possible space. I looked over the cars to see all would be here... that blue thing was Kerry's, made even more obvious by her dry-cleaned Air f***e uniform hanging in the window. George's jeep, parked on a boulder. My cousin Kurt seems to have come out because his Mustang was sitting at the front of the driveway. Some motorcycles...Amy, Danielle, Carlos, Jasmine, Nicky...
Jasmine? Why the fuck is she here? Jasmine would be one of my exes from a few years back and not one I get-on well with today. This better not be some plan to try putting us back together... I'll deal with it later.
The music coming from the house was a bit loud, but over it I could already hear hooting and hollering through the industrial beats.
Part Three: A Chance Encounter
Since everyone seems to be inside or around back, I start to walk up the curved driveway towards the side of the house. There is a sound of footsteps ahead so I make a quick fix to my hair and restore my driving-cap and keep walking to the corner...
In just the starlight a most unexpected form is illuminated before me. A girl stumbling forward in high fetish heels... A naked girl! Oh Andy, you bugger...
She tripped and tumbled forward, apparently startled by my unexpected presence. She stood up again but with another step began to fall forward... I was there at the just the moment to hold her up by the armpits. She fell forward into my arms.
I placed her back onto her heels, still on my knees and supporting her with my hand on her shoulder. Her eyes seemed to have trouble focusing as she kept blinking at me. Her hair was a mess, and I felt something sticky on her shoulder...
“Thanks” she said, finally looking at me directly. She had huge greenish eyes, and I found it hard to break away from them. Suddenly on of her heels snapped and she fell again: instinctively I followed her eyes and over and on top of her, catching her head from hitting the ground.
She started giggling a bit. “You're good! You catch me when I fall”
“Yes, but where was your boyfriend?”
-“No boyfriend, just friends”
“But why not one of them?”
Her hand moved itself to my crotch, and she slipped her hand into my cargo-shorts. A half second later she purred and pulled my body down to hers by my belt, putting her lips by my ear: “Why not you? You can be my boyfriend tonight!”
Her words fried my thoughts for a second, though not my senses. She smelled like heavy sweat... like sex. She was dotted with several hickies and a few bruises that looked a few hours old. And there was something covering her chest... something that felt a lot like cum. She was the hottest mess I have ever seen.
I wasn't going to say no, especially not now. With a quietly smug grin: “Ok, for tonight.” And she arched up to kiss me on my lips.
Part Four: Harley
With that, I noticed a strange wetness through my cargo-shorts... feeling down, the same was beginning to cover her thighs: a river of urine had started to flow out of her crotch and your right leg was right in the path...
“Oh geez, is this why you were wandering away out here?”
“I lost a contact-lenses earlier so I needed to get a new one from my purse in Andy's car. Hehehe... and yeah, pee!”
“Let's just go get your contacts... I'll carry you so those shoes can be kicked off.”
We made it over to the car so she could put her eyes back in. I said that I needed to go to my truck for different shorts and maybe a towel for her, but she put her hands on my waist and said not to worry:
“I can wait til tomorrow to wash- nobody will mind, right?”
“No, I suppose not...”
“And you might as well just hang those shorts out here because I can't bring you back to the party in them!”
With that, she began to undress me: first the jacket, than my tank-top, my shorts and my boxers. I was nearly naked, and she went down to my boots.
“Don't. The boots stay on.”
“Hehe, that is fine by me!”
We started walking to the back of the house again, but before we did I stopped her. I still didn't know her name.
“I'm Harlequin. A pretty name right? What is yours?”
“Ok Vasily, lets get you to the party!”- She began to lead me by the cock towards the patio.
Harlequin... Harley... At first the name found no match in my memory, but I kept repeating it in my head and soon hit it: Harley. Harley the Whore, or the Harlot, or the Homewrecker, or the “Special edition Harley “fatgirl”, floor-model”, or Harley the shame of Vernon. Her reputation was an extensive one, to the point her parents were faced with such community stigma that three years ago she had apparently been sent to live with relatives somewhere out west of the Mississippi. It was said that she had such nymphomania that professional psychiatry sought to do a clinical study. It was even rumored that there was a biological source of it, that her mind kept her stuck in a continuous state of arousal.
It made her reviled by some but also beloved: she was known for channeling it to get her friends free liquor, weed, ski-passes, paintball-ammo, and even gasoline. Large dicks, small ones, White, dark, Hindu or whatever, she wouldn't hold back... women too she would hook-up with and sometimes lead along into tag-team whoring adventures. An ex-girlfriend told me of it once, ashamed... when I tried to give her a comforting hug though, we both immediately noticed the raging boner nearly busting through the weaving of my pants.
Now I have met the lady behind the imfamy... No, not just met her, but am being let by the cock back to the scene of her latest raunch and the night is still very young.
[To be continued.]
Posted by dolcage 1 year ago Views: