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Connie, Part One
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
CONNIE Part I
(fragment from a novel-in-progress)
Midway through my first year of graduate study at Berkeley, a paper I
had submitted was accepted to be read at the June conference of the
Western Social Sciences Association in San Diego. I was excited and Alex
was happy for me, too; in our eyes, anything one of us did reflected
equally on the other. But when June arrived, Alex had her hands full
revising her senior thesis so she could graduate that summer, and I had
to fly down alone. I've never sought out crowds, but neither do I
particularly enjoy traveling by myself. If a place is worth visiting at
all, it's probably an experience worth sharing with someone else. Well,
what the hell, I could manage two days, I thought -- but I wouldn't
bother with the beach or Balboa Park.
A couple hours after leaving Oakland International, I stood near the
end of a long, serpentine queue before the front desk of the conference
hotel, trying to calculate how long it would be before I could relax in my
room. An hour at least, maybe two. The line shifted a bit and I picked up
my overnighter and my attache case, took one step forward, and set them
down again. I sighed and let my vision drift out of focus, but a tinkling,
elfin laugh just in front of me brought my attention back. I had paid no
attention to the girl ahead of me in line and I realized now it was partly
because the top of her head barely reached my chin. I had looked right over
her head and sighed practically in her ear! As she turned and grinned up at
me over her shoulder, her silky black hair, cut in a medium-length pageboy,
shone with reflected light from the lobby chandeliers. Her face looked as
smooth and flawless as translucent porcelain the shade of sandalwood or
cinnamon. The longest, thickest lashes I had ever seen -- I knew
intuitively they were genuine -- shaded a pair of black-brown elliptical
eyes so hypnotically ancient and deep their twinkle seemed incongruous. Her
small mouth was enhanced by brilliant red lipstick. She wore a
straw-colored linen suit over a white silk blouse, both businesslike and
alluring. I took in all this in less than a second.
"Maybe we'll have to sleep here in the lobby tonight," she laughed. Her
voice was bell-like but included a nameless quality that I was sure would
grab any man by the throat, the heart, and the balls, all at the same
moment. No accent, either, so she wasn't an exchange student (I took it for
granted, on no evidence at all, that this tiny beauty wouldn't be a faculty
member somewhere.) Without her two-inch heels I guessed she couldn't be
taller than 4'10", but she was so properly proportioned that she seemed not
short but doll-like. A cliche, I know, but even cliches are founded in
truth. She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and tilted her head
quizzically. I was suddenly aware of my loosely drooping jaw and the fact
that I was staring down at her. I could feel the flush rising above my
collar.
"Uh, yeah -- I mean, they'll, uh.... I'm sorry -- I sound like an
idiot." I swallowed and tried to regroup my scattered thoughts.
"Let me try again," I apologized. The twinkle in her eye was brighter;
she *knows* she has this effect on men, I thought. "I think it's going to
take another hour, at least, to get to the front of this line, and I don't
think we're likely to lose our places." Only two other registrants stood
behind us.
I made a joking half-bow. "Would you allow me to buy you a drink so we
can wait this out in comfort?" Because it's unexpected, European formality
frequently gets an American woman's attention.
"You've got a deal!" We parked our bags behind the velvet retaining
rope at one side of the lobby, walked into the bar, and took a small table
in the quieter area at the back. As I held her chair for her, I belatedly
introduced myself.
She held out a small, elegantly manicured hand and I took it carefully.
"I'm Connie Liang, University of Hawaii." Her palm was cool and satiny. I'm
only a bit above average size, but this lady made me feel like a 280-lb.
linebacker. Her surname was obviously Chinese, but she appeared to be a
more exotic blend of Japanese, southeast Asian, Polynesian, and probably a
little European. A typically Hawaiian background, in other words. We
chatted over a couple of bottles of Bass and she told me she about the
graduate work she was doing in social anthropology. She was also in San
Diego to read a paper. From remarks she made I re-estimated her age upward;
she had to be a year or two older than I was. Her voice was wonderfully
musical and I resolved to attend her session, regardless of its subject,
just to hear her read.
After a little while, I rose and peered out at the lobby. The line
was down to almost no one now, so I paid the tab and we retrieved our
bags and checked in. Connie was on the 10th Floor and I was on the 11th.
On the way up in the empty elevator, Connie mentioned with elaborate
casualness that she thought she might just go down to the pool deck on
the 5th Floor and "splash around a little." I caught her calculating
sidelong glance and allowed as how I might just do the same thing. She
flashed me what I hoped was a promising smile as she got off at her
floor.
During the few seconds between the 10th and 11th Floors, all by myself
in the car, I had an sudden, unnerving conviction that Alex was standing
beside me. The feeling was so strong I actually turned my head to ask her
how she had gotten there -- and as I did, she vanished, leaving behind an
amused chuckle, like a Cheshire cat. Her voice whispered in the back of my
skull. "Michael, don't worry about it ... have fun, enjoy yourself! I won't
be angry. Don't you know me any better than that?"
Yes, I did know her better than that. All the years we were living
together, leading a terrific sex life , we were nevertheless out there
dating other people and sampling considerable sexual variety. I learned
early not to be jealous when she quietly slipped in from a late date
radiating a lingering orgasmic flush or when she rinsed some guy's cum out
of her mouth with ginger ale. Nor was she anything but pleased when I came
home with my zipper still half-open and my fingers smelling of another
girl's cunt. Often she wound up in my bed or I in hers, sharing our
experiences and still aroused and primed by the evening's adventures. I
must be feeling guilty, I thought. Weird. Why should I feel I'm betraying
my SO just because I'm attracted to such a terrific girl? Ridiculous. The
elevator door slid open and I hurried down the hall to my room, trying to
remember if I had packed my swimming trunks.
* * * * *
Thirty minutes later I was walking out on the pool deck in a polo shirt
and my Hawaiian-print jams (good unintentional planning, I thought), with a
hotel bath towel draped artfully about my neck. It was a half-hour till
dusk, my favorite time for swimming and beach-strolling, and there were
only eight or ten other people present, laughing and talking in two groups
up at the shallow end. Everyone else would be at dinner. I glanced around
but didn't see Connie. Either she'll come or she won't, I thought, and hung
my towel and shirt over the back of a deck chair. I sat down on the pool
curbing next to the diving board and cautiously stuck one foot in the
water. Great -- the pool was heated! I glanced again at the glass doors;
still no Connie. Ah, well. I took a breath and pushed off into the deep
end, headed straight for the bottom. When my feet touched the cement eight
feet below, I crouched down with my knees bent. I paused a few seconds,
enjoying the null gravity sensation. Then I uncoiled and shot myself back
to the surface, arms at my sides, arching over backward to smack my
shoulder blades against the water. My "humpback whale" trick, Alex called
it. Childish, probably, but half the fun of a swimming pool is in not
acting like an adult. Then I heard that silvery laugh again, accompanied by
a patter of applause, and I looked up. Connie had arrived while I was
underwater. I splashed the few yards to the side of the pool and hooked my
elbow over the edge. She was wearing a one-piece smooth silver suit (to go
with the laugh, I thought inanely), cut in a deep V almost to her navel,
that contrasted sharply with her light brown skin and black hair. She knelt
and tried not to giggle. "Tell me ... did you do that on 'porpoise'?" I
rolled my eyes, groaned in the expected manner, and reached out as if to
grab her ankle and fling her into the pool. She skipped back a few steps
grinning and waved me farther away from the diving board. She stepped onto
the board, adopted a serious expression, and shook out her fingers as if
preparing for a difficult dive. As she paced out to the end, looking every
bit an Olympian, I saw that the back of her suit was scooped very wide and
low; only the thinnest of straps crossed vertically over her shoulders and
had the back been cut any lower she would have revealed a second cleavage.
There were no tan marks, of course, to spoil the gently rippling surface of
her upper body. She took a precisely placed bounce on the end of the board
and I expected to see a 2-1/2 twist or something equally spectacular. On
the way up, she touched her pointed toes with her fingertips, arms and legs
absolutely straight -- a form obviously the result of many hours of
practice. But at the peak of her arc, she suddenly tucked herself into a
perfect, slowly spinning cannonball and hit the surface of the water with a
splash that caused a small tsunami at the other end of the pool! I pushed
out to the end of the board and reached up for an ape-hang as she paddled
back from her point of impact. "I can't think of a horrible pun just now,"
I grinned, "but I'll give that one a 9.9!" She reached me and rested a hand
on my shoulder for buoyancy, and I added in a softer voice, "And I have to
give you a 10 just for looking the way you do." She smiled more intimately
and ran her other hand across my chest beneath the surface, pausing to
trace a circle around each nipple with a fingertip. "You're not so bad
yourself, big boy." Where did she get this dialogue? Well, I'd seen quite a
few old films myself. "I'll bet you say that to all the boys who are a foot
taller than you." She nodded slightly in approval as if I had just passed a
test. "Speaking of 'taller', you might be standing on the bottom for all I
know, but my legs are getting tired." "Want to get out of the pool?" I
hoped not, not yet. "No, it's too warm in here and too cold out there. Just
let me shift into my barnacle routine." Her legs, which had been slowly
scissor-kicking, slid up and wrapped themselves around my right thigh. At
the same time, she twisted around to face me at an angle and now one knee
was pressed in friendly fashion against my crotch. In the water, her
clinging suit had become semi-transparent. I was very much aware of her
dark nipples erect beneath the cloth, especially since one was being
pressed firmly into my ribs. Even in the warm water, I could feel my cock
stirring. Her left arm slipped around my back and her thumb hooked itself
casually over the waistband of my trunks. I steadied my grip on the end of
the diving board. I didn't care if my arm developed a permanent cramp, I
was attached to that board as long as Connie wanted to stay in the pool. I
put my free arm around her and stroked my palm up and down the smooth
resiliency of her back. I could feel the subtle muscles that come with
regular swimming. Other muscles were shifting slightly in her thighs and
calves. There were other activities besides swimming that that
well-maintained body was expert at, I was sure. My hand slid downward
across the small of her back, past the edge of her suit, and I paused and
watched out of the corner of my eye for her reaction. She squeezed my thigh
between hers, so I continued down over the curve of her small, firm ass.
She brushed her nose across the top of my chest and leaned in closer. My
chest was right at surface level and my nipples had hardened, both from
being in the water and from her previous attention to them. She submerged a
few more inches and fastened her lips around one nipple, sucking as if it
were a soda straw, while her hand moved from my chest down to my abdomen.
Connie's aggressive ideas of foreplay were a revelation even to me, and the
experience was very arousing. After several minutes of mutual stroking and
caressing, she climbed up and breathed into my ear, which produced a wave
of delightful shivers down my neck. "Why don't we move up toward the other
end?" she whispered. I watched the last of the other pool inhabitants
gathering up towels and sandals and strolling back into the building. It
was full dusk now, and the pool's underwater lights had come on, but they
weren't too bright. "Sounds good to me," I replied. Connie adoitly
unwrapped herself and headed for the four-foot marker with long, powerful
strokes. After a few moments of stretching my abused left arm, I set out
after her. When I arrived, she had her back to the pool wall and her legs
spread wide. "C'mere," she said softly. As I moved in and put my arms
around her torso, she wrapped her legs loosely around my waist and hooked
her wrists behind my neck. Her kiss was long and sensuous, accompanied by
rhythmic movements of her crotch against my groin. Alex and I nearly always
moved to each other by mutual but unspoken consent, we had been together so
long. Connie's aggressive style of sex play was new to me and I found it
both exhilarating and very erotic. I gripped both cheeks of her perfect ass
and pressed her harder to me. She raised herself up a little and I
attempted to suck her nipples out through the surface of her suit. She
grabbed a shock of my hair in her teeth and tugged my head up, then wiggled
her tongue between her lips in invitation. She was expecting a deep kiss,
but instead I grabbed her tongue with my lips, as I had done her nipples a
moment before, and sucked. I was trying to match her "surprise" style of
foreplay by making it up as I went along -- and with that move I succeeded.
Her dark eyes widened. She wrapped both arms around my head, crushed her
mouth hard against mine, and strained to push her surprisingly long tongue
down my throat. She growled a little and both our mouths vibrated. Her
thighs tightened around my waist and I wondered in passing if I would end
up with a cracked vertebra. She mashed her crotch so hard against my cock I
was certain I could feel the lips of her cunt on either side of it, even
through both our suits. After a few minutes of convulsive dry-humping she
seemed to regain her senses enough to realize that I was becoming very
short of breath. She loosened her scissor grip and pulled her head back to
stare into my eyes. Her lips were parted and her lipstick was smeared all
over her mouth. She continued to grasp and tug and release my hair with
both hands. "Oh, you're beautiful! Where have you been all my life?" Her
voice shook a little. Another cliche, but this time I had an answer. "I've
been waiting to meet a water sprite, and here you are," I replied. I combed
my fingers back through that shining black hair. "If you're planning to
lure me away to the bottom of the sea, I'm ready to go." Connie was
regaining control of her voice now. "How's your room? Single or double
occupant?" "Just me and a double bed," I replied. "Then I think we ought to
get in out of this cool breeze. For our health. And my bed's King-size." I
hadn't been paying attention to the weather, but she was right. The cool
San Diego night breeze was giving me goosebumps. I waded on up the slope of
the shallow end and went carefully up the steps; Connie still had her arms
and legs wrapped around me. She was so small I could have carried her back
to the room that way, but I didn't want to risk running into a senior
faculty member with a beautiful girl plastered across my front like bronze
armor. She must have had the same thought because she suddenly let go of
me, landing perfectly poised and reaching for her towel. I was certain now
that she must have had gymnastics training -- every move she made, every
step she took, was so effortlessly graceful. I doubted that she had ever
stumbled or tripped in her life. I admired her as much as I lusted for her.
We kissed again in the elevator between floors until an older couple got
on. Then we stood silently in the back of the car, Connie in front of me. I
was running my open hands over her ass while she reached back to caress my
cock through my trunks. We both squirmed but neither of us made a sound.
When we got off at the 10th Floor, Connie looked up and down the hall, saw
no one and immediately pinned me to the wall with her body. I assumed she
was going to kiss me again and I began to lean down, but instead she stuck
out her tongue and painted a wet stripe up the front of my throat, Adam's
apple to chin. She giggled and trotted away up the corridor while I stood
frozen by the burning mark. I had to hurry to catch up. Nobody had ever
better take *this* woman for granted, I thought. Inside the room, Connie's
first move was to lock and bolt the door. I flicked on the overhead light
but she turned it off again and switched on only the small bedside reading
lamp. Now it was dim. She pushed me gently back to sit on the edge of the
bed. Then she spread her knees and sat astride my lap, leaning back on her
heels so she could scan my face. I put my hands along the sides of her damp
thighs to balance her, and she played with the hairs on the backs of my
wrists. Her expression had become serious. "Michael, you seem like a sweet
guy, not the sort to try to take advantage of me." I raised an eyebrow and
she smiled; who was taking advantage of whom? "I mean, I don't think you'd
try to force yourself on me. So I'm going to tell you some things up front
that you ought to know about me. First, I'm not as crazy as I sometimes
act. I'm smart, I'm successful at whatever I do, and I'm on my way up in my
field. I do act silly when I feel like it, and today I just kinda feel like
it. "Second, I like sex -- no, I *adore* it. I enjoy acting sexy, by myself
or with a man -- if I like him. I sure like you. I guess I'm just a sensual
person. But that doesn't mean I'm an easy lay; no one carves another notch
on his cock with me! I've had two serious love affairs in the past five or
six years and perhaps a dozen one- or two-night stands. I even made it with
a complete stranger once -- spur of the moment, fifteen minutes of fantasy,
bam, and I'm gone. But I'm usually very picky; it's been more than two
months since I fucked a guy and weeks since I even kissed anyone. Do you
understand what I'm saying?" "I think you're saying," I replied, "that
you'd like to spend some time with me -- I hope you will -- but that it's
your choice to make." I shrugged. "Well, it always is, isn't it? The
woman's choice, I mean." I patted her legs lightly in what I hoped was a
reassuring gesture. "Connie, I like women, almost all women, beautiful or
not. And I respect them -- if that makes any sense right now. Rape is not
my thing. Seduction, maybe, but that's a game, and both sides take their
chances; if it comes out right, nobody loses. I think *I'm* the one who's
being seduced this time, and I don't mind at all. We don't know each other
well enough yet for you to tell the difference between my brand of flattery
and the honest truth -- but I tell you honestly and truthfully that you are
one of the most absolutely beautiful and desirable women it's even been my
good fortune to meet. We'll play by your rules, I promise." I took her by
the shoulders and began to bring her within kissing range, but she stopped
me. "Third," she said. I waited. "I hate to hurt the man I'm with as much
as I love having fun with him, as long as it lasts. I've been in love
twice, or I thought I was, and both of us were hurt each time it ended. I'm
not fool enough to think anyone can predict that they will or won't fall in
love, and I don't believe in 'love at first sight' anyway." I could see
some painful memories behind her infinitely dark eyes. "If I get involved
with a guy, for a few weeks or even a few hours, I won't run around on him.
I don't mind a little *temporary* possessiveness in a man -- in fact, I
take it as a compliment. I can be possessive, too!" She flashed another
smile. "But I understand the difference between sex-for-mutual-pleasure and
real love. A couple of the guys I've had flings with have become friends
even without the sex; they recognized when that relationship ended and
became something else, and they accepted it." She took my face in her hands
and looked at me with an expression that begged me to understand. "Don't
decide you're in love with me, okay? I don't *want* to be in love, not now.
If it happens, it happens, but I don't want anyone getting hurt!"
I took her hands and kissed them, and tried to match her earnestness.
"Connie, I have a girlfriend back in Berkeley. We've known each other and
lived together for a long time, and we love each other very much. We're not
married, but I think of her as my other half. In fact, I was a little
depressed when she couldn't come down here with me -- until I met you in
the registration line." Her eyebrows rose another fraction. "You just now
laid it on the line for me, in advance of anything that might happen
between us," I continued, "just to be sure I understood what was going on
here. That's very unusual and it's very honest. That girl back home owns my
heart absolutely -- but she's a very smart lady, too, and she knows from
experience that sex-for-fun is temporary, like a ferris wheel. You have fun
for awhile, you enjoy the ride, and then you go back home to the one who
loves you. She's gone round on the ferris wheel a few times herself, and I
always welcome her back with a smile and a kiss. Do you see? I don't own
her body -- I couldn't even if I wanted to -- but it doesn't matter,
because I know, absolutely *know*, that she loves me. Neither she nor I has
ever had anything to be jealous about."
I couldn't tell whether Connie quite believed I was telling her the
truth or not. "In my attache case over there is a copy of my conference
registration form, with my home phone number on it. If you like, you can
call her up and talk to her. Her name is Alex. She's as different from you
as the sun is from the moon, but she enjoys sex, too, believe me. She might
even make a few suggestions."
Still sitting astride my lap and holding my hands, Connie just looked
at me for another minute. I could practically hear the balance scales clink
in her head as she weighed out the possibilities. Then she smiled broadly,
pushed me onto my back, and began kissing and nibbling at my throat. I was
glad she had decided to believe me because what I'd told her was the truth.
"Your suit seems to have dried," I commented as I slid my hands up and
down her back. "But mine's getting clammy. How about first things first?"
She rolled off, laughing, and I stood up and unknotted the string in
the front of my trunks. Connie bounced off the bed and pushed my hands
away.
"No, no, no! Let me do that; I enjoy unwrapping presents!" Barefoot,
she came only to the middle of my chest, but her arms circled my waist and
her hands slid down under my jams and squeezed my ass. She knelt and pulled
my trunks slowly down. When my reanimated cock sprang up, she made clacking
sounds with her teeth and lunged playfully at it.
"Down, Toto, down!" I laughed. I hadn't meant it literally, but she
obediently lay on her back on the floor, arms outstretched, legs slightly
apart, her hair scattered around her face. I stood over her, reached down,
and slid the silvery straps off her shoulders. She raised her arms and I
carefully pulled her bathing suit away from her breasts and down to her
hips, like peeling a banana. She raised her legs straight upward, pointing
her toes as she had when she dived off the board. I worked the silver suit
quickly down her legs, untangled it from her ankles, and tossed it on the
bed. Then I simply stood and looked down at this perfect, miniature Venus.
She saw the open admiration in my eyes and proceded to give me the
complete tour. Her breasts were small but in proportion to all the rest of
her, and they quivered firmly. She cupped them in her hands, rubbed her
dark brown nipples between her fingers, and sighed. Her legs were still in
the air; she spread them slowly and curled her ass up a little. Her pubic
hair formed a tiny black rectangle ending just above her cunt. Her clit
seemed as erect as my cock, protruding from the cocoa folds of her lips.
She curled her body smoothly to one side and I stepped back out of her way
as she suddenly became a three-sided pyramid -- ass at the apex, legs still
stretched out, the tips of her toes digging into the carpet, her back
perfectly straight, arms cushioning her head. She curled her toes inward
and her tiny asshole opened invitingly. Connie was exposing to me
everything her body had to offer, and the array of possibilities was
impressive. Her small frame, combined with her high degree of physical
conditioning and her obvious willingness to share it all with me, was
making me lightheaded.
Without conscious decision, I knelt between her slender, perfectly
turned legs and thrust my tongue into her cunt, flicking it against her
clit on the way in. She jerked slightly and I felt her thighs quiver
against my ears. I wrapped a hand around the front of each knee, to balance
her, and continued to stir my tongue around in her bare little cunt, which
was now beginning to drip with her juices. I remembered the wetness of her
mouth on my throat, out in the hall, and now my tongue moved slowly, wetly,
from the bottom of her cunt up toward her asshole. A girl like this would
always be absolutely clean, I knew that. As my tongue traveled the last
smooth brown inch between her legs she moaned softly and trembled again.
When I reached the rim of her puckered anus I paused for a moment, and
not just to build the suspense. Rimming was something I seldom did, and
then only with Alex. I knew many women were uneasy about it. Yet Connie
hadn't stopped me; in fact her quivering tautness convinced me this was
something she would really enjoy. My tongue began tracing rings around the
rim of the deepest opening in her body and I could feel her heart rate
increase and her breathing become ragged. Then I plunged it as hard and as
far into her ass as I could, burying my face again and again between her
cheeks, and I could heard her half-sobs of passion. I became aware of
spasms ricocheting between her cunt and her ass as the orgasm carried her
away.
After a minute, I gently helped her to lie down with her stomach flat
on the carpet. Her back was arched and her groin rose at an angle in my
lap. Her knees, locked straight for so long, were now bent with her toes
pointed away from me. My cock, still erect and throbbing, tapped lightly
against the half-open slit but I made no attempt to push it into her,
though I could hardly ignore the enticing aroma of the wetness that beaded
the back of her crotch. I quietly stroked her ass and her thighs, and I
threaded my fingers between her toes and felt the tough smoothness of the
soles of her tiny feet. Finally, she attempted to get up but her position
was awkward for anything other than what we had been doing. I rolled her
over on her back and stood, scooping her up in my arms as I rose; she
weighed so little, it was like a lifting a little girl. I knew that was
part of what attracted me to her; she undoubtedly knew it too. I laid her
on the bed on her back and settled next to her on my side, head propped on
one hand so I could continue to look at her. Her eyes had been closed in
momentary exhaustion, but now they opened and I was favored with a warm,
dreamy smile. She held up her arms and I lay down with my face next to hers
and her arms around my neck.
"He followed me home, Ma; can I keep him?" She kissed me once,
lingeringly, and then nuzzled my ear with her nose.
"How did you know something like that would turn me on so? *I* didn't
know it." Her full voice was bell-like, but her whisper was husky. She
nibbled my earlobe and sighed happily.
"It wasn't just a lucky guess," I said, as my hand traveled down her
back, pressing her warm body against mine. "Besides, a gentleman always
lets a lady cum first."
"What do you mean, it wasn't a 'lucky guess'?"
I was still down by one horrible pun. "Well, being an Island girl, I
figured you couldn't resist a Pacific rim...."
She groaned and laughed softly in my ear; then she licked one finger
and marked a score in the air. "That's a hell of a start, but we've got all
night to try and top it. Don't we?" She hugged me affectionately.
"We certainly do," I replied, and hugged her back.
Copyright 1992 Michael K. Smith. For personal enjoyment and posting in
other electronic venues. All commercial rights reserved.
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