This is to be the first of a series that I have in mind to write. How far I go with it will likely depend on reader review and response. I have received some very kind emails from people who read my earlier offerings, and to them, I say thank you, and sorry it's taken so long to write more.
My name is Jeremy Jones, or JJ, for those who know me well. I have a peculiar set of circumstances in my life. Allow me to tell you about my situation in a general sense. I have, for some reason fallen into a pattern in my relationship history. I will meet someone, a sweet young girl with a broken heart, or a painful past, or an abusive relationship, and get involved with them, whether or not it is really a good idea. It almost never is.
They fall for me quickly, mainly due to my temperament. I am a patient and relaxed person, I don't get angry easily, I abhor physical violence, and I don't raise my voice at people that I care about. I provide to these young women a mirror, one untainted by the impurity of self interest.
I love to love the world, everything in it, everyone in it. I am always trying to feel people out, to gain a sense of their needs, their goals, motivations, their thoughts and their feelings. I want to help everyone I see, as impossible, and even foolish that may be. And I see the beauty inherent in all of us, through the layers of self-defense, the walls of fear, the sting of the past.
And to these beautiful creatures, I try only to make them see themselves in a similar light. To see the natural beauty they themselves may believe to be squashed by the pressures of life and love in this society of TV, super models, and unrealistic expectations.
That is my gift, and my curse. Because to them, at first, I am a fascinating creature, exotic and unique. I am, to many people, strange in the way that I see life, how I interact with people. And to some women, namely the ones described above, respond to me in a way I can't fully explain.
Unfortunately, once they see themselves in a new light, their expectations change. With familiarity comes boredom, loss of the fascination. And I am just a regular guy to them. With newfound self esteem, and self respect, comes a desire to be out and experimenting. It is a pattern I know well, and one I have become comfortable with. And these are my stories...
Part One: Christina
I met Chris on the Internet, of all places. You hear stories about it, but when it happens to you, it never seems to be authentic, in some way. At any rate, I found her on a personal ad one night, and was intrigued by her profile. No picture, though. Hmmm. I sent her a message with my email, and waited to see what happened.
It was two days later she returned my email, and it began. She had a story only made sadder by the fact that it is a fairly common one. Not to diminish her pain at all, she truly had some rough circumstances. I felt for her as I feel for the suffering of the nameless strangers I would never know.
We seemed to click, and from attraction came trust, and from trust came...love? Yes, but love has interpretations. For some, trust equals love, for others, attraction and attachment will do. I loved her before I knew her, on the level of compassion, empathy, and trust. She loved me in her way.
She was abused and betrayed by her most recent ex-boyfriend, and the one before. Cowed, put down, verbally beaten, and physically, on occasion. So much anger in her past. The absence in me of the anger so familiar to her, was what she loved. I never so much as raised my voice to her. I accepted her constant stream of apologies for imagined wrongs for what they were, self defense...she only knew one way to love.
We met for the first time in a diner on our lunch breaks. She brought a friend (never know what kind of weirdoes you're going to meet over the Internet, hehehe), I came alone. She was shy, as I knew she would be, and beautiful, which I suspected. Felt, rather. Her beauty was in her poise.
We were a perfect mis-matched couple. She topped out at about five feet, to my lanky six foot four. She was in college, nineteen to my twenty-six. She was cute in a tiny sort of way. And she had the most beautiful eyes. The color of the deep ocean on a clear, calm day. Incredible shine to them, dimmed not at all by the touch of sadness there.
We talked a bit over lunch, her friend providing most of the preliminary conversation, rescuing us from our silence. Chris and I had already exchanged so many words our eyes were weary from reading the computer screen. But we lost ourselves in the physical presence of being together for the first time.
It was awkward, too. Polite and quiet, we mostly just tried to get over the initial shyness of meeting someone who already knew a great deal about you. I am open and friendly by nature, and I chatted with her and her friend for awhile, not trying to put too much pressure on her. When they left, her hug was warm but guarded, accepting but defensive. I promised to write to her as soon as I got home from work.
As it turns out, we were both a bit nervous about the others reaction upon meeting. The first time we had seen each other at all. Luckily for both of us, there were no objections from either of us. I thought she was very cute, great body, beautiful eyes. I was hooked. I already knew she was a good person from talking to her online. Put that together with her nice little package, and I was a happy man.
She thought I was hot, loved the fact that I was over a foot taller than her, thought I had beautiful eyes. And she was glad that I had found her attractive, too. Suddenly, we had a lot of physical attraction to go with the long late-night talks. Things had just gotten interesting!
We agreed to meet again, the next week at a restaurant with some of her friends from work. We talked online, and on the phone a lot, and the conversation was starting to heat up. Now that we had faces to go with the personalities, fantasies were coming alive. I wanted her, in the worst way. And she was talking dirty the whole week before we met, telling me what she wanted to do.
We met at the restaurant, she was already there with her friends. She saw me pull up, and walked outside to meet me at the door. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, both kind of tight, and she was stunning. So tiny, very cute, kind of shy. We greeted with a warm hug, and went in to meet all the friends.
As we were sitting around a large table, I met her friends, ordered a drink, then felt a hand in my lap. I glanced over at Chris, and she had an impish grin on her face. I felt her small hand creeping up my thigh, toward my already-swelling cock. She met it halfway, and the grin on her face widened. For two hours we sat, talked, drank, and got to know each other better. For two hours, she stroked my cock, and I copped feels at every opportunity. A brush against her breast, a finger slipped into the waistband of her pants, or caressing her tummy under her shirt. All in the open, in the midst of her friends.
When we left the restaurant, we sat in her car to say goodnight, falling together with the force of two hours of pent up passion. Her lips were small, and soft, her breasts, small and firm. I devoured them all. She went at my bulging jeans with a fury, we were a mess of fondling, rubbing, caressing and kissing. We were parked in a public parking lot, but we couldn't stop. She worked the zipper on my jeans, then the button, then I felt her tiny soft hands inside my boxers. She pulled my full erection free, stroking it slowly and gently. Her hands were so small, she could fit them both on the shaft, with the head poking several inches above her tiny fists.
With a final kiss, and a melting look, she lowered her head to my lap, and filled her mouth with what her hands couldn't hold. I felt her soft, moist warmth envelope my head, then slide down until I felt the back of her throat. Then she moved, her hands, and mouth at once, sliding them as one up and down. One of her hands slipped between my legs to fondle my swollen sack.
This went on for long moments, she was taking her time, no signs of urgency. And since there was no sign of anyone around, I pulled her shirt up in the back, unsnapped her bra, reached in to feel the softness of her breasts. As I gently pinched her nipples, her pace increased, a moan escaped her stuffed throat, and she shoved me as deep as she could into her little throat, nearly gagging herself.
I could feel my release creeping up, watching her blow me was the sexiest thing I had seen in a long time. She turned her head to look up at me, smiled with those most beautiful eyes, and ran her tongue from the base of my cock to the head, swirling around at the tip. When she sucked me back into her mouth, and her two little fists started pumping in time, I knew it would be soon.
I told her I was going to come, gave her a moment to stop if she was going to, then committed myself to flooding her throat with my seed. She didn't pull away, she began sucking greedily. I saw her flinch slightly when the first shot hit her throat, but she didn't miss a drop.
