The wet, gray skies of autumn were blown out to sea by the cold white winter clouds of December. The crisp air made holiday lights glimmer with a brightness that the rain clouds had prohibited. With the need to be indoors comes an opportunity to socialize -- and December brought holiday parties and music. What December did not bring, however, was an opportunity to see her again -- that is until the holiday festivities at the Kennedy Center.
The holiday Christmas celebration I chose to attend was Mahler's 5th Symphony. It was playing at the Kennedy Center -- a Christmas event for patrons. The Center was festooned with holly, red ribbons, and Christmas decorations. The symphony goers were decked out as well -- tuxedos were the uniform for men, yet every imaginable Christmas dress adorned the women.
To be honest, I noticed her dress before I noticed her. While the other ladies were dressed up like peacocks, I was struck by the simplicity of her long red gown -- which I only saw from behind. It came off her shoulders and swept down her back revealing a beautiful spine and drawing attention to her ass. I found myself subconsciously checking her out -- though my recognition of her was not immediate since my memory of making her cum in the employee room at Neiman Marcus was not one I associated with the Christmas decorations of the Kennedy Center. But, I followed the line of her spine as she walked by and was astonished to see her face. She was with a new boyfriend -- or at least he seemed new by the distance that separated she and him.
I ran up: "Frank, Frank!" I called out to her boyfriend.
I didn't have the foggiest idea who her companion was but I figured a feigned mistaken identity was sufficient to stop the two of them and draw her into conversation.
"Frank," I said, "is that you?"
Her boyfriend turned and looked at me and said, "I'm sorry. I think you have the wrong person."
When she looked at me, I saw her bolt a bit in surprised recognition. I looked at her, I looked at her boyfriend and I said, "Frank Carpenter? -- didn't you finish at Georgetown Law School in '93?"
"No, no," her boyfriend said, "you have the wrong person."
I said, "I apologize." When I looked at her again, her nipples had become hard. I then said, "Well, enjoy the concert," then looking at her again I added, "Maybe I'll see you at the first intermission."
She winked as the two of them walked away toward the balcony section of the concert hall.
I could have been at and elementary school recital for all I cared -- I did not listen to the music. I sat in my seat thinking about her nipples and how they had come to life. Seeing her made all the tastes and smells of the employee room of the lingerie department at Neiman Marcus come back to me. In the darkness of the concert house, my penis began to warm and grow hard as I thought of her.
I scanned the balconies for her and finally located her. She was using opera glasses. Delightfully, I could tell that the opera glasses were pointed, not at the stage, but at me. She studied me. I fidgeted in my seat and moved my elongating penis so that it could stretch out along the length of my leg.
As soon at the lights came on indicating the first intermission, I jumped up and headed for the lobby. I wanted to get there in time to see her descend from the balcony above. When I reached the lobby I saw her racing down the stairs. We almost collided. We did not exchange formalities.
She blurted out, "Are you . . .?" as I interrupted by saying, "Can I . . .?"
She looked at my erection. I looked at her nipples. Then we looked through each other's eyes and suddenly there was no need for further words.
She kicked off her shoes and grabbed them in her hand. I took her other hand and we went running down the wide corridor of the Kennedy Center. We were looking for a private place. We ran. We stopped, looked around, and ran on again. We turned a corner. The crowd had disappeared.
There was a staircase. We ran up the wide red carpeted staircase -- up one landing, turned and up another flight of stairs up into the darkness. We tried the double doors at the top but they were locked!
"Damn, where should we go?" she said.
"Let's go downstairs again," I responded. I took her hand and we started to run down the stairway that we had run up.
Suddenly, she stopped and pulled her hand away. "No," she said, "I'm not going down there."
"Come on!" I said and held out my hand.
"No," she said and began to slowly walk backwards up the stairs into the darkness. "No, I'm not going any further" she said.
"What do you mean?" I asked. She slowly lifted her dress. She leaned backwards and reached out behind herself with her hand. She said softly, "I can't wait." She lowered herself onto the stairs. Then, she put her hands on her knees and pulled her legs apart. She sat squat on the stairs. "I want you to fuck me right here," she said.
The light from downstairs illuminated her. She grabbed her panties at the crotch and yanked it -- it snapped and tore off. Her hairy wet pussy lips parted.
"Oh, baby." I said as I approached. I unzipped my pants. She put her hand on her pussy and began to rub. My hard cock burst through my boxers. She placed her middle finger into her pink pussy. I grabbed my cock with my hand. She rocked her pelvis forward so that her finger could climb higher into her pussy. I kneeled in front of her. She licked her other fingers. I could smell her now -- her essence was strong. With the finger of one hand still penetrating her pussy, the wet fingers of her other hand found her clit.
"Ooooohhhh" she gasped as she touched it. I rubbed the head of my hard cock, spreading the precum that had dripped down my shaft so that my penis was hard and slick.
"Are you going to fuck me?" she whimpered. I nodded my head.
"Are you going to fuck me?" she said again.
