Thanks to Talynnda for editing this story, and even more for liking it. See her photo on her profile! What a gal!
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I had never seen a woman like her before. It was the sheer unlikelihood of her that thrilled me. The unlikelihood of her walking down a street like mine, and when I could least have expected it, the unlikelihood of how things unfolded, and the unlikelihood of her unusual and incredible beauty. Maybe I should call it her sexiness, rather than her beauty. I'm still not sure. She was beautiful, but not in any conventional; by which I mean stereotypical and banal sense. It was proportion. She was not slim, but you could not call her heavy either, but she had such large natural breasts, and they pointed proudly straight outwards. They seemed like they were too large for her frame to carry them, but she was having no trouble with that.
He face was pretty, in a sexy kind of way, her skin as white as milk, and she had these extraordinary full lips, that were the sharpest mix of red and pink, and piercing grey eyes, under whose gaze, I think, the faint hearted would break.
The first time I saw her she was walking down my street. I thought it was just one of those things that happen every day, but I should have known right from the beginning that there was nothing every day about her.
I desired her the moment I saw her; but a desirable woman passes you one day and while she is there before you, she consumes you, but it fades and disappears after she is gone, and she becomes another memory, along with all the other women you saw and wanted, but at a time and in a place when you could not find the means of approaching them.
Then, a couple of days later, she passed by again. This time she noticed me noticing. She looked every bit as gorgeous as she had the first time, and I thought to myself, how can I approach her without it being too obvious?
The way to approach a woman, I have learned, is to contrive a meeting that will become the beginning of what I intend to become a conversation and then an exchange of numbers and then a date, and to make it seem as if it was put of the natural run of things. An approach to a woman should not jar against the natural rhythms of the day.
Seeing her again as I had that day, I began to believe in fate again. I always rely on fate in situations like this. If I see a woman I have desired a second time shortly after my first view of her, I decide that fate has decreed that I will have her. I just have to wait for the time to come; or subtly act to bring it about.
I saw her a third time, a few days later. This time it was in a shop. I decided that it was time to go and speak to her. I said 'hi', and she smiled and replied in kind. It was friendly; it did not lack warmth, but it was not the kind of 'hi' that invites conversation. I stood waiting for her to say something, and then she turned and went on with her shopping.
I walked home feeling puzzled. She had not encouraged further attention, but she had not discouraged it either. She had been completely neutral, and that is the hardest thing to fathom. Fate was playing with me. I would have to wait. I would not go anywhere where I might bump into her. I had to leave it to the fates.
That evening, I went for a walk in the park, and I had mostly forgotten about the afternoon and the shop. When I came to it, I sat down on the bench where I always sit. It's in the far corner of the park, furthest from the main road, and although one of the paths goes by that way, hardly anyone ever goes there. That's why I like it. It's a great place to read or just sit and think.
I had been there for about ten minutes, watching the sunset and dusk fall, when I heard someone coming. I looked up to see her coming round the bend into view. Fate has not let me down, I thought, and my senses rioted in me. She saw me, and I wondered what she would do.
She sat down and said 'hi,' in the same low key kind of way as in the shop; so I just stayed where I was, on the bench opposite the one where she had just sat down, rather than strike up a conversation and go and sit next to her. The path between us was not wide, but it was too wide for two people who were sitting on benches on opposite sides to talk to one another comfortably, and raised voices would have jarred against the quiet of the evening.
It did seem strange to me though, as well as exciting. The park is big, and there was no one else around, and she had chosen to sit right opposite me, but she did not want to talk. It was the kind of situation I had been praying fate would provide. No one else around; a chance meeting, and an opportunity to talk. Then I wondered how much of it was just chance. It was working too well, and I am always suspicious of anything that works too well. I said I like unlikelihood, but some things are just too unlikely to be chance. However, it did not seem as though anything was going to happen. I mean; it seemed that she wanted to sit right opposite me, but she did not want to be approached and chatted with.
Then she did something that I had not expected. She swung one leg up over the other leg, so that they were crossed. It was so quick that I thought I might have imagined it, but I was sure that I had just been given a momentary glimpse of her pussy. She looked at me enigmatically and then she said
'I've been watching you. You come here quite a lot.' In that moment I realized that she was an American. I loved her accent.
'I do,' I said and smiled.
Fate was more cunning than me. She had not entered my scene by sitting there, she was creating a scene of her own, and I was to be in it. She was more cunning than me, too.
'Come and sit over here,' she said, and patted the spot on the bench beside her.
Obediently, I got up and walked the few steps across the path to her. As I sat down, she pulled down her top and her great tits bounced out. Despite their extravagant size, and their wonderful soft fleshiness, they were firm and her nipples pointed outwards seemingly welcoming my touch.
I had to ask her and she smiled and said '40DD.'
