Every guy has his fantasy girl. Teresa Cartwright was mine. We've known each other for almost seven years now and I wanted to fuck her since the day we met. Call me shy, call me an idiot, call me what you like, but I never made a serious play for her.
Stunning is the only way to describe her. She's petite and curvaceous at the same time. At 5-3, her long, shapely legs give you the impression she's a much taller lady. Her hourglass form is complemented nicely by a flowing mane of red hair that extends just below her shoulders and she captivates you from across the room with the sexiest pair of emerald eyes you've ever seen. To top it off, she's got a voice that can make any sentence sound like "somebody fuck me right now."
I know what you're thinking, with looks like that she probably can't walk and chew gum at the same time. Well, if you think that, you'd be wrong. She's sharp, witty and a hell of a lot of fun to talk to. In short, she's got the whole package and any number of guys would walk barefoot across broken glass just to spend one night with her.
When we first met, we were both single and living fairly close to each other. We were in the same line of work and a mutual friend introduced us at a business seminar. At the time she was living in Chicago and I was in Milwaukee. The distance being what it was (and Chicago being the city it is), I had no trouble finding excuses to visit the Windy City and we went to dinner whenever I was in town. I knew early on that I wasn't "her type of guy" but that didn't matter to me and she seemed to genuinely enjoy my company as well.
Now I'm a fairly good looking guy, about 5-8, 190 pounds with brown hair and blue eyes that women seem to be attracted to for some reason. I played small college football and I still work out so I'm in pretty good shape. But Teresa liked 'em big. And she had no shortage of GQ studs lining up to date (or should I say, fuck) her.
But I didn't care about that. I was just happy to have her attention from time to time. Maybe deep down I was doing it to slowly win her over, I don't know, but over time we became pretty close friends (I know, I know, I must have been out of my mind...).
Now Teresa had a bit of reputation and because we moved in some of the same social and professional circles I heard a lot of stories about her. Very interesting stories. Like the story about how she met two guys in the bar at the Michigan Avenue Marriott and did them both in one of their rooms upstairs that night. Or the time she fucked one of her boyfriends in the men's room when they were at the top of the Sears Tower. She just followed him into the bathroom and did him in one of the stalls. Yanked down his pants, hiked up her skirt and just rode the guy til he came.
Needless to say, these stories provided me with plenty of jerk off material at night. But in MY stories, I was the guy she was fucking in the bathroom, or the hotel room, or on the beach, or..., well, you get the picture. Each fantasy was the same though, just the location changed. It always started with her telling me she'd always wanted to fuck me and that "tonight's the night."
In my fantasies she always pushed me back onto a couch or a chair or something and knelt between my legs. She would smile up at me as she tugged my pants off. "mmmm, baby, I knew you had a nice cock," was what she always told me right before she ran her hot tongue around the head and lapped up the precum oozing from the tip.
After a mind-numbing blowjob she always stood and undressed in front of me, teasing me by playing with herself as she stripped. In my mind she always wore business attire but the skirts were always a little short and the heels a little high. She wore thigh highs and no panties and her bras were sheer lace.
When she undressed, she always left on her heels and thigh highs (hey, it's my fantasy, that's what I like...) and climbed on the couch, straddling me. She would lower her pussy to my mouth and I would feast on her hot slit. Cupping her tight ass and pushing her down onto me as I nibbled on her clit and sucked on her swollen pussy. She would moan and grind on my face, tugging on my hair with her hands as she came all over my face.
Then she slid down my body and impaled herself on my cock. The fantasies usually never went much farther than that though (a guy can only hold out so long, and it was only a fantasy after all...).
Over time we became pretty close friends and she would confide in me about her relationships. I never got to hear the steamy details of her love life (damn...), but I did hear about everything else. Like how the guys always seemed nice but ended up cheating on her or going back to their wives, etc. I started to think there was a possibility my fantasy might come true when fate intervened and everything changed.
She got transferred out of Chicago to Dallas. I was devastated. I still had my fantasy girl in my mind but I didn't have her in the flesh. We kept in touch over the phone but the distance ended any hopes I had of getting my wish.
About this time, I met a girl in Milwaukee and we started to date. Six months later we were engaged. Nine months after that we were married. At the time we were in love, or at least I thought we were. Turns out she really wanted to get married but it didn't matter to who. I thought I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Turns out I really didn't. We were divorced in two years.
The sex between us had always been good, not great, but good. But I always found myself comparing her to Teresa, or at least to the Teresa of my fantasies. That may have been part of the problem.
Teresa and I had stayed in touch and I continued to hear about her endless hook-ups and break-ups. Each time she met somebody she was sure he was "the guy". But each one of those "guys" eventually dumped her after he'd had his fun. And each time that happened I got a phone call or e-mail, at work of course since my wife didn't know about my "friend" in Dallas.
But when my marriage fell apart Teresa was one of the first people to call. I was surprised and aroused all at the same time. We talked for quite a while and as we hung up she told me, "If you need to get away, I can always show you Dallas."
Now, my mind heard "If you need to get away, I can always show you Dallas." But my cock heard "Come on down to Dallas big boy and I'll fuck you into a coma."
I began making plans for a trip to Texas that day.
Our work schedules were pretty hectic but we eventually settled on the last weekend in October. I initially offered to stay at a hotel but Teresa would have none of that.
"Don't be silly. We'll spend all our time in the car. You're staying with me." Being the gentleman that I am (yeah, right), I felt it would be rude to turn down the offer.
Needless to say I was more than a little nervous when I finally boarded my flight for "Big D." How did she feel about me? What was going to happen? How do I handle this? Do I make my move? These and a thousand other thoughts raced through my mind on the trip down.
Adding to the tension was the fact that I was worrying about whether or not I would "measure up" if I my fantasy started turning to reality. I hadn't been faithful to my wife mentally but I had been physically so I wondered if I had what it took to please a goddess like Teresa.
Arriving in Dallas, I searched for Teresa in the baggage claim area. Spring break had just started so there were a lot of people streaming through DFW that day. I was seriously starting to worry she'd changed her mind and wasn't going to show up when I finally spotted her.
My stomach started to flip-flop (holy shit...she's hotter than I remember!) and I swallowed hard a couple of times as I watched her move across the crowded terminal. Her lively green eyes were scanning the crowd, looking for me I hoped, and she was totally oblivious to the men (and women) who stared at her as she passed.
Finally, she saw me and her eyes lit up. I nearly melted right there. Did I mention how she was dressed? Apparently she had come straight from the office as she had on a business suit that showed off her long, toned legs, which were encased in sheer (what I told myself were) thigh-highs atop a stylish (and sexy) pair of black heels (how did she know that's what I like???). Her hair was pulled back in one of those big alligator clips but a few wisps of her red locks had escaped which, to me, only improved on perfection.
I mentally ran through all the lingerie possibilities I could expect to find under her clothes and willed myself (how I don't know) not to greet her with a stiff cock poking her in her midsection.
"God, it's so good to see you!" she said as we hugged (is she hugging me longer than we used to? Nah...) and she kissed me softly on the cheek (Friends? More than friends?). "How are you?" "How was your flight?" "Sorry I was late, traffic is a bitch on Fridays here." I guess I was overwhelmed by the moment because I could only stammer. "Uh, well, I'm..." "It was, uh."
