Sadie And The Moon Ch 01

I watched her picking potatoes out of a box: my potatoes. She was picking them for me. When she had finished with the potatoes, there were tomatoes, oranges, apples, passion fruit, whatever, anything, it didn't matter, because she could pick them for me and while she did that I could watch her.

I don't have a vegetable fetish. She could have been picking out woollen mitts and I would still have felt the most desperate aching in my cunt. The only thing that mattered was that she had to face away as she did the picking, because that let my wicked sight rest on her pretty little butt.

Now here's the irony. She didn't even have such a great ass. Don't get me wrong, she was a slim, pretty, sexy nineteen-year old (well I figured about nineteen, anyway) and she had a slim sexy ass. But in general I prefer them a little more pert, a little less boyish. But I didn't care, because my heart and cunt ached for her in that randomly directed way that has left quite a number of unsuspecting women reeling from an unexpected Samantha onslaught.

She had long straight dark hair (you'll have realized by now I didn't know her name - well how could I, all she'd ever done was pick me potatoes and things) which she normally had tied back - something to do with working with food I figured. Quite a fine face, a little pointed perhaps but good cheekbones, dark eyes, but somewhere somehow I detected a dark wicked intelligence that made me want to do terrible things to her. As she often wasn't in the shop - imagine my disappointment when an entirely unnecessary vegetable purchasing expedition resulted in a no-show - I figured maybe it was a vacation job when she was out at college. Call me an intellectual snob but I guess I prefer to pervert college girls.

But I didn't know her name and our relationship currently consisted solely of potato-based transactions. In my imagination, of course, things were very different, and after each time I saw her I would frig myself desperately, my mind's eye always reverting to one simple image. She was facing away from me, in her jeans and "regulation" navy sweat top, and I was kneeling behind, watching and waiting for the jeans to come down and my anonymous young lover to offer me her behind.

Ha. Like it's that easy to seduce someone in a shop. I tried to figure out all sorts of ruses but none of them came close to being practical. Complain about a bad potato? How cranky would that make me? I mean I was doing lots of eye contact and so was she but she just seemed to be an eye-contact kind of person. Not a slut, just confident, or maybe a touch naïve. And I wondered what she thought of the skinny thirty-something American with an apparently insatiable appetite for fruit and veg.

So, she'd finished picking the potatoes, and the tomatoes, and I knew my cupboard was already swamped with farm produce, so I called a halt there. Four pounds forty. How cheap was the fuel for my lust. Could I really make conversation over vegetables? No. My nerve failed, it felt ridiculous, and so I carried my pointless prize out to my car. I was fiddling with it in the trunk, frustration almost bringing me to tears, when it came to me. It was lame it was sad but it was maybe worth a shot.

She was still standing there - a relief, they seemed to swap staff every five minutes or so - and I rushed over. She smiled to see me again. Nothing flirtatious, just a mild recognition I was back.

"I forgot something," I gasped a little breathlessly. "Do you have any zucchini?"

She raised her eyebrows. I liked that - it was a new expression.

"Zucchini?" Her face showed quizzical, amused, incomprehension. Don't you just love the English language?

"Sure, zucchini. It's for a pizza recipe."

"I'm sure it is, but I have no idea what you're talking about." Oh my how that cheeky confidence turned me on. "But I'm guessing this is one of those English English versus American English sort of things. If you make me guess I'd say you want an aubergine, but really I have no idea." She was wide of the mark - she meant eggplant - and I could have put us both out of our misery by saying "courgette" - the kind of useful thing you pick up after over five years in the UK - but that wasn't the point. After all this time, after all that frustration, we were almost flirting.

I won't bore you with the details - there's been too much food already. But it took us maybe five minutes to get to the right answer, with a surprising amount of innuendo involved. (Well you think about the shape of a zucchini/courgette).

"Wonderful," I said. "Thank-you. Who'd have thought I'd learn something like that today?" Was that it? Was this going to be a good solid base for our next chat? Should I run away to try again another day? Jeez my confidence was bad. "Listen," I went on, my heart pounding, "as you've just found out I'm fairly new around here. Do you know any good traditional English pubs? I'd just love to try one out."

It was an innocent enough question, in the circumstances. "The White Horse is very good. Wood beams, fires, that sort of thing."

"That's great, thanks. Now I hope you don't mind me asking, but would you join me for a drink there?"

She blushed bright red. She hadn't seen that one coming. "Well..."

"I know - it's cheeky of me to ask."

"Well, okay, a drink." She didn't look sure about it. But then something occurred to her. "But maybe not the White Horse." No, of course not. What would any of her friends things of her out for a drink with a strange American woman. "How about the Farmers? That's in all the guide books - probably more the place you're looking for." And somewhere her friends never went.

***

She looked great as she walked into the pub. Not great as in dolled up, because that would have indicated a readiness to accept she was on a date, and that was clearly not her intention at all. But a simple white t-shirt and jeans still showed off her leanness and her youth. Yum yum.

She began by announcing she could only stay for one drink, had to be somewhere else in an hour. That was cool. I like to work to a deadline.

Do you want to know one of the true secrets of successful dating? Listen. You may want to talk about yourself, discuss your career, bemoan the state of the world, but I promise you, nothing works much better than careful, appropriate, attentive, listening.

I don't mean play dumb. You have to engage, but make sure your attention is focused on your date and what she's saying. It's flattering and it feels lovely and no-one is going to walk away quickly from someone who seems genuinely interested in them.

So she was Sadie and she was at college reading geography and she liked to ride but it doesn't really matter, does it? Because an hour went and she was still there and she didn't even bother to pretend to call her pretend friends. I was thrilled. I know I do it well but every time you never know and by now I wanted Sadie so badly.

And as the evening wore on and we drank and she began to reconsider whether maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to be on a date with me after all. I could feel the way her mood eased from nervous tension to tentative flirtation. I could imagine her thinking "What would it be like to go with this woman? We could just kiss - I've often wondered what it would be like to do that with another woman. Any maybe more - surely it must be different from guys, and I bet she'd know how to do things to me better than some of the boys around here. Maybe, it's cool to flirt, anyway."

Then the lovely English drinking laws required us to leave, we were both a little drunk, and it was a lovely clear night, the stars blinking away from a million years ago. As we walked along the sidewalk we kept kind of bumping into each other, but I just let it happen, didn't take advantage, I wasn't in the mood for predatory.

"Wow," Sadie said, looking up at the stars, "it's such a beautiful night."

"It has been beautiful, thank-you," I said, deliberately misinterpreting her. In the darkness I had no idea if she was blushing, but I think it was a given.

"No...I. Listen, Samantha..." She was trying to find difficult words through the alcohol. "It's been a really great evening..."

"I sense a 'but'."

"Yes." But the 'but' still wouldn't come, so I helped out.

"You think I'm coming on to you."

"Yes." She sounded so relieved I'd articulated it for her.

"I am. You're gorgeous and exciting, Sadie. I think you've realized now why I've had such a passion for vegetables these last few months." She laughed, and some of the tension was broken. "And I've rather got the feeling, just a little, that maybe you're attracted to me."

"I'm not a lesbian, Samantha."

"I'm not saying you are. But right now you're wondering what it would be like to kiss me, to feel my body tight against you. And I think maybe you think it would feel good." We were walking across a field now, with just the moonlight to guide us.

"That doesn't mean I'm ready to do it, Sam." I wondered if she was looking for a little bit more work from me, a little more seduction.

I rested my hand lightly on the small of Sadie's back. It stayed there. "I bet you've wondered what it would be like to have another woman loving you Sadie. 'Would it feel different from the way boys do?'" I was gently stroking her back now, and still no resistance. "I bet you've fantasized about another woman's face down there, haven't you?"

In the moonlight Sadie nodded.

"Fantasized and stroked yourself and got wet, like you are now." My fingers were tracing the top of Sadie's jeans, hinting at real intimacy, then teasing up her back towards the strap of her bra and a different kind of exposure. "You've made yourself come, Sadie, dreaming of another woman licking your pussy." I rubbed my hand over her bra strap, relishing her acceptance of its presence there. "I've dreamed of licking your pussy, Sadie, I've lost count the number of times I've touched my pussy and wished I was licking your pussy. You've made my pussy so wet, Sadie, like it is now. Is your pussy wet now?" I slid my hand down to Sadie's ass, lightly brushing her cheek.

"Mm."

And so we kissed.

I could taste the wine on her lips, and smell the faint dab of perfume she had put on before she came out, no doubt repeating to herself "this is not a date and as this is not a date too much perfume would definitely send out the wrong signals" and now I could smell her perfume as I kissed her. She was, I guess, a typical late teen kisser, a little mechanical but as she relaxed into it a bit (I'm guessing she was in part terrified) she calmed down and started to savour the sensation of our tongues colliding and entwining.

I hadn't expected us to fuck in the fields, but there was no-one for miles and the passion was so strong there was no way I was going to break off. I slid my hands under her t-shirt, under her bra, slipping her stiff nipples between my fingers and gently squeezing her breasts. And as always I talked.

"I'm going to lick your pussy, Sadie. You're going to lie on your back and I'm going to pull down your jeans and your panties and I'm going to press my tongue against your wet pussy and your clit and I'm going to make you come, just like you fantasized about. You want that? You want me to lick your pussy?"

I guess she was figuring not only did I like to talk but I liked replies too. "Lick me."

She began to struggle with the button of her jeans, so desperate was she to undress for me. I tried to help, my own excitement making me fumble too. And then her jeans were sliding over her butt and down, together with her panties, and she lay back on the grass. She looked so gorgeous and vulnerable, half-naked in the moonlight, her long slim legs pale in the silver light and the thick dark triangle of her pubic bush.

"You're my moon goddess," I said, quite spontaneously and in awe that I was offered this beautiful cunt. I knelt, a humble devotee.

The air seemed thick with the musk of Sadie's honey. She was right, she was soaking. I kissed her left thigh, her right thigh, wanting her to feel every second of wondrous anticipation as she waited to feel the touch of another woman on her sex for the first time. I brushed my lips through the verdant forest of her thatch. Her hips were rocking now, her cunt seeking out the satisfaction of my tongue, greedy girl.

I moved down, and paused at her entrance, the fleshy cavern grey and pink in the strange light. Then I tasted her and she juddered at this first contact. I knew it could not be long before she came, but I wanted her to understand that yes, it was true, only another woman could really satisfy her. My fingers teased and tickled her ass cheeks and her breasts, as my tongue traced delicate patterns all around her cunt. She was breathing quite heavily and quite openly, honey flooding from her sex. Sometimes my contact was just lips, sometimes just tongue, sometimes both.

I pulled back briefly to say one final thing. "Come for me, Sadie, come with my tongue on your cunt." I knew that in her state adding the aural sense to the experience of her first proper cunt-licking would be enough, and the obscenity of the word would be quite delicious, and sure enough as I touched her clit again with the tip of my tongue she bucked and screamed as her climax raged through her. It felt like riding an earthquake.

Eventually she stopped, and I crept up to be face to face with her. Half naked in the moonlight she looked shattered and magnificent. I kissed her gently on the lips. "Let's continue this back at my cottage."

***

I guess I'm lucky. Sadie half-naked in the grass made me catch my breath, and Sadie lying completely naked on my bed was a whole new treat, almost a whole new lover. Slim and pale, I took in her pink erect nipples and her delicious chocolate triangle of cunt hair. She looked a little self-conscious at the hunger in my eyes, but she never took her eyes off me as I stripped for her.

"Ready for me?" I asked. The walk from the field had been sweet torture as my cunt hummed its need for satisfaction. There was no time for Sadie to have any qualms about licking cunt - I wanted my come.

I knelt on the bed and then moved to straddle Sadie's face, her face below me. She focused on my cunt. She looked so serious, possibly taking her time to make the transition to pussy-licker. I knew my lips were puffy and swollen and my clit poking out of its hood, an obscene sight maybe but one I hoped Sadie would want to return to again and again.

She poked her tongue out, towards my pussy, almost like a naughty gesture, and I cupped my hands under her head to guide her in to my sex. She looked really nervous now but her eyes never left my cunt and her tongue stayed out, ready to taste another woman.

It was exquisite, the first contact, the feel of Sadie's tongue on my pussy lips and the look on her face as she adjusted to this new taste sensation. I guess she liked it because although her tongue remained in a fixed position she gradually drew it along my labia. Gently I drew her up to my clit, the only place that really needed attention right now, and I could see the curiosity on her face as she examined another woman intimately for the first time. Gradually her tongue loosened as she adjusted to the idea of licking pussy and as she maybe began to develop what I could dream might be a true taste for pussy, my pussy.

Seeing Sadie's expression change from almost-reluctance to something close to enthusiasm was all the stimulation I needed, and as I began to shudder some of my tenderness left me and she found her mouth mashed tight against my cunt. She kept licking, revelling in the sensation of bringing me off so intimately. When I collapsed beside her she was grinning like the cat that got the cream, which I guess it really had.

***

Although we fucked hard all night, I decided to keep my deeper, darker desires hidden. Sometimes it's more exciting to build up to something. You don't always have to rush into the main course.

Of course I was able to enjoy Sadie's ass to my considerable satisfaction anyway. We were quickly 69ing, and although I was on top I scooted Sadie's knees back a bit so I could see my lover's asshole for the first time. (She probably assumed I was getting better access for her hungry little cunt).Oh be steady my heart. Exposing Sadie's pretty little bumhole, her skin so white, turning brown around her anus. The hole itself seemed so small, so tight, I felt sure she had never been penetrated there. So I licked Sadie's cunt but all my spare senses were focused on her pretty virgin asshole.

I know that in the past I have tended to rush in, ignoring cunt completely and only ever thinking about ass. Why different now? Well to start with things don't always go exactly how I want them, and nice though it is to concentrate solely, completely, and immediately on my lovers' asses, I'd have to admit that sometimes that simply isn't going to happen. Or, put it another way, whatever I may get in immediate results is squandered by the fact they never return my calls again.

And second, sometimes it's nice not to rush straight in, to look at a pretty little bottom and think to myself "sometime soon I'm going to have you, going to get my tongue right against your naughty little tightness and lick and lick." And so it was with Sadie. She can have had no real idea that so much of my appreciation was devoted to her asshole, and that just made my enjoyment that much more voyeuristic. I could examine Sadie's ass quite closely and she didn't have a clue.

That was fine for a short while, of course, but I don't have that much patience. If the truth be told so much close but ultimately not intimate contact with Sadie's ass was putting me in a spin, and there were times when I nearly dove straight in. And that's not how I like to do it at all.