Close Encounters Of A Sexual Kind Ch 01

Copyright © May 2017 by CiaoSteve

CiaoSteve reserves the right to be identified as the author of this work.

This story cannot be published, as a whole or in part, without the express agreement of the author other than the use of brief extracts as part of a story review.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

Author's Notes

Foreword #1 : All characters in this series are over 18

Foreword #2 : This is pure fantasy and could contain events which may not happen in real life

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A warm Summer day in the deep mid west. The town of Charlottesville was nothing but normal. It could have been anywhere, a small town built up on the back of the railroad boom. Originally a staging post for travellers, the railways had moved on and the town had settled down to a more sedentary life. A population of some 25,000 now lived in Charlottesville, made up of a mixture of young business families and a more elderly retired population, enjoying the proximity of the town to some wonderfully relaxing countryside.

Nothing ever happens in Charlottesville. Life goes on, day becomes night becomes day again. Nothing ever happens, at least nothing that gets reported on any more. It hadn't always been like that though. There was a time, some 10 years back, when Charlottesville was all over the news. It wasn't exactly Charlottesville

per se

, but the locality which made the headlines.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

One Winter's evening a local drunkard had noticed a bright light hovering over Charlottesville before disappearing into the distance. It was a light, but not one he recognised. For one it hovered, not moving, just there. OK, a helicopter, but there wasn't a sound to be heard and no downdraft that would be felt from a low flying helicopter. The other strange thing is that the light kept changing colour, shades of white, yellow, blue and red alternating at varying speeds. It was almost like it was watching him.

Then suddenly it went, shooting off into the night. Taking a long look at the bottle he was holding, he took another big swig and tried to contemplate what had just happened.

His contemplation was shattered by a bright flash in the distance followed by a huge bang. In an instant the town was awake but by now there was nothing to be seen, just the tales of a local drunk.

Searches of the area over the coming days drew a media frenzy, bringing Charlottesville to the centre of attention. Eventually, some 10 miles out of town, in a popular hiking area, a crater was found, an area of scorched earth on the end of a long straight indentation in the ground, a few damaged trees, but no sign of any wreckage. Nothing to say this was a plane crash or anything else of the like. It was a mystery. Unsolved and now old news, after a couple of weeks the media frenzy died down and the event was written off as a probable meteorite strike. They happen from time to time so nothing really to get too excited about.

Life went back to normal and the events of that night faded into recent history. Charlottesville returned to normality. Normality that is, for all except one drunkard, a drunkard who would spend his life trying to tell the story of what happened that night. A story he kept telling, but who was going to believe a drunkard. It was a tale of lights, of flying objects and something in the woods, a warning almost but one which no-one took any notice to.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

So back to the present and the sleepy hollow of Charlottesville was again going about its own business. The sun was shining and people were out and about in the town, dressed for the Summer and enjoying the warm temperatures. Nothing unusual at all. Nothing except for one young woman, probably late-twenties walking slowly through the town.

So what is odd about a young woman walking through a quiet town. Well, there were a few things. It was a warm day but here was a young woman, wearing almost pure black shades but dressed in a long beige trench coat and matching hat. Combined with this was the way she stuck to the shadows, making no eye contact with anyone, concentrating only on her destination. She wouldn't have looked out of place in an old sixties detective movie.

Slowly she continued down the main street, people glancing, heads turning momentarily as she passed, then going back to their own business. She was carrying a large padded envelope, obviously precious by the way she held it tightly in one hand.

She stopped outside of a nondescript office building, opened the door and entered. It was the offices of The Courier, Charlottesville's local newspaper.

"Can I help you miss?" came the enquiry from the desk in front.

Not removing her hat or shades, she walked over and placed the envelope down on the desk. It was an medium sized padded envelope and by the size looked like it could contain a small book.

"Please, help me, please."

"How can I help?" came a quizzical response.

"This envelope contains a secret, a secret it is time the world knows about. Please tell the story, if nothing else, for the wellbeing of others. I am trusting you to reveal all."

At that she turned and left.

"Strange woman," thought the receptionist returning to her business, placing the envelope into a drawer, out of sight and out of mind. It was only at the end of the day, when everyone was leaving, that she remembered the envelope and rummaged for it in her drawer.

"Bye Sheila," came a voice heading towards the door.

Quickly she stopped rummaging and replied. "Mitch!" she called out.

The young man turned and returned to the front desk.

"Yes Sheila, what can I do for you?"

"One minute," she replied and went back to rummaging. She appeared again holding the padded envelope. "Here," she continued, handing over the envelope. "A strange young woman came in, left this and asked for help. She claimed it contained a secret that the world needed to know about. She was certainly strange, and whenever I come across

strange

the first person I think about is Mitch Dawson, so here you go."

Mitch Dawson had joined The Courier a couple of years back as science editor, although many referred to him as the science fiction editor, given that many of his investigations had a habit of returning back to the question of whether or not there was life out there. He was 29, around six foot tall and of medium build. Short black hair framed a slightly elongated face. Dressed in a grey suit which had obviously seen better days, blue shirt and tie done up to around the second button, you could tell that Mitch was more interested in his work than his own personal appearance.

"Thanks Sheila," he replied. "Probably another nutcase, but let me take a look." He took the padded envelope and winked back at the young receptionist. Yes he made the normal joke about nutcases and secrets to expose, but deep down he knew that one day he would hit the jackpot. Could this be the day? Envelope in hand he turned and left.

Back home, he threw the envelope onto a table, dropped his jacket and tie, then poured himself a beer. Jumping into his favourite armchair he sat back and relaxed. Phew . . . another day over and the world was still as safe as ever. TV on, he listened to the local news. Same old, same old . . .

"Cat rescued from tree"

"Protests over local health centre cuts"

"Woman found wandering the streets, mumbling about an untold secret"

"City win soccer game over local rivals"

He wasn't really paying attention as nothing ever happened in Charlottesville. Wait, something had grabbed his attention . . . woman . . . wandering . . . secret. Suddenly, he remembered the envelope, retrieved it from the table and opened it. Inside was a small spiral bound notebook, the type that wouldn't go amiss in a reporter's hand, the black leather cover bearing the gold embossed initials . . . KS.

Mitch poured himself another beer and went back to his armchair, notebook in hand. He opened the cover and out fell a slightly faded photo of a young woman, not too tall with long blond hair tied to the side in pigtails. She was wearing a cheerleaders outfit for a university that Mitch didn't recognise; white top, red skirt and white above the knee length socks. What stood out though was the way that her top was stretching provocatively over a large pair of breasts, probably too large for her frame, which were straining to get out.

Nice girl, thought Mitch, and he returned to the journal. It was a neatly handwritten book. Obviously somebody's pride and joy. He started to read . . . . the first page written in gold handwriting.

If you are reading this I hope you have an open mind and are not easily shocked.

My name is Kendra Stewart and this is my story.

A story which will intrigue, perplex and probably shock at the same time.

A story which will challenge your view on the world at large.

It is not an easy story and I apologise in advance for the graphic retelling of events but I had no option but to tell the story as it happened.

I need your help, if not for me, for the sake of my young friends and those who may follow in my footsteps.

Please only turn the page if you are willing to help.

Kendra

Suddenly the author of this book, diary, journal (call it as you will) had Mitch's attention. Now he was eager to see what secrets were contained within. What was it that the stranger had wanted him to help with, who was she and where had she come from? He had to know more and without thinking turned the page and started reading.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In the interest of developing the story let's introduce the characters and a little background. Do remember though that this is not in the journal so is unbeknown to Mitch.

Kendra Stewart had been studying at an out of state university. A degree in economics was her dream. At 26 she had been a late student and felt that she had to play catch up to get on the career ladder. Having come from a privileged background she had wanted for nothing, but at the same time had made a life decision that she would stand on her own two feet. This was just the start.

Kendra was a diminutive figure, 5 foot 4, a petite size 8 with long blonde hair. She was ever the diminutive girl, except for rather wide hips and an oversize pair of tits. She had gotten used to the stares, stares which asked the question, real or fake? The answer of course was real, but actually she didn't mind the attention, so played along with the game.

University life was going well and at the end of her second year she was on target for an upper second, a first if she could be bothered to go the extra mile. Kendra though was enjoying university life as well as her study. She was a bit of a party animal and well known to many on campus. Having joined the university cheerleader squad she had made many friends and really wasn't afraid to tout her wares. That said, there was a line and a line which wasn't crossed. She may have been eye candy to many but she would be the one to decide if and when a relationship went to the next level, and to date it hadn't. Not that she ever admitted it, but Kendra was still a virgin. One day she knew that would change, but she was also in no hurry.

Yes, her personality and bubbly nature made her the centre of attention, but there was another reason she had plenty of friends. She could drive. Being a bit older than many students she had already bought herself a vehicle, and what a vehicle it was. A yellow and white first generation VW campervan, restored and emblazoned with a large heart on the front. She called it the "love machine" but to date it hadn't really seen any action other than as a minibus for the cheerleading team.

On this day, the team was playing away, a journey of some 3 hours or so. As usual Kendra had offered a lift to her closest friends and fellow members of the cheerleading team. So now the "love machine" was already well on its way south heading to the game, packed with the essentials, Kendra at the wheel and her four friends seated inside.

A quick introduction:

Vanessa (or Van to her close friends) was the landed one, not that she behaved like it. Her father was a stockbroker and the family were loaded. Everyone knew that Van had only come to university for the party life and that she was the most likely to flunk her exams. Party she did, night and day, she sure didn't act like a member of the upper class. Van was 5 foot 7 and was a real looker, sharply cut blonde bobbed hair, a la posh spice but blonde not dark, tanned skin, a well toned physique and good sized breasts for her height. It was well known that Van had a thing for hunky sportsmen, hence the reason she had joined the cheerleading team.

Sabi, 20, was the tallest at 5 foot 10. Of German parentage, Sabi was slim with straight dark brown hair which she usually tied back in a pony tail. She was probably the most underwhelming of all five and made up for a lack of looks with her personality. She had friends everywhere and enjoyed the social side of university as much as her study.

Mei, 21, was Taiwanese by birth but had lived outside the country for many years. She was the smallest at a tad over 5 feet and a petite size zero. To many she was picture perfect, a pale blemish free face framed by shoulder length bobbed black hair, straight body, narrow hips and the most pert little A-cup breasts that you could imagine, so pert that often she wouldn't bother with a bra. Mei though was the studious one and rarely seen in the company of boys.

Lauren, 19, was the youngest of the group and probably came across the most naive. You would probably say a "dumb blonde" apart from the fact that she had the most stunning ginger hair that you would ever see, long waves flowing to mid way between her shoulder blades. She was a little larger build than the others but definitely shapely rather than fat. Curves in all the right places and a huge pair of tits straining to be released from her tight fitting top. Lauren was definitely the girl next door, a picture of innocence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Back to the journal.

April 2014

(3 years back thought Mitch to himself and he looked again at the photo trying to imagine how much the woman may have changed. He continued reading.)

We'd travelled the 3 hours or so cross state to the last ball game of the season, Cubs versus Pirates. The 5 of us, Van, Sabi, Mei, Lauren and myself crammed into the love machine. It was a good journey but, to be honest, I was a bit worried about the way back. It wasn't unusual out here to get heavy traffic in the evening and I did want to get back before dark.

The game had gone well and the Cubs had won by two points. Our cheerleading display had gone without any mishap so all we had to do was get ourselves back home, what could go wrong.

So here we were, 5 cuties clad in skin tight white tops, flared red miniskirts and mid-thigh length white socks wandering over to the changing rooms, a good days work done. We'd already decided not to get changed back again but just to pick up our stuff from the changing rooms and make a dash for it, in a bid to beat the traffic. As usual Van was kind of flirting with the players. "Same old Van," I thought to myself.

Back in the changing rooms we quickly packed and made ready to leave, only to find that Van was missing. We searched the changing rooms but she was nowhere to be seen. Thinking she was probably still flirting with the players, I wandered back outside to take a look. It was the sound of familiar giggling coming from another room down the corridor, a private changing room for the officials, which gave away her location.

Standing outside the room, the door slightly ajar, I decided to take a peek before barging in. Through the crack between the door and the frame I could see most of the room, nothing out of the ordinary, just a smaller version of the changing rooms we had used. Inside was the team captain and Van, both standing clinched in an embrace. Van was on tiptoes, lips locked together in a deep kiss. I noticed his hands slide around her cute ass, lifting the skirt up and pulling gently at the back of her red knickers. Slowly they lowered at the back revealing two plump but firm cheeks. Van struggled out of his grip complaining that now wasn't the right time and she had to go, but before too long he had talked her back into an embrace again.

I was intrigued and decided to watch what happened. Maybe it was the voyeur in me but something was pulling me in like a giant magnet.

He whispered something in Van's ear, I couldn't hear what, but the result was Van reaching down to feel at the front of his shorts. Smiling, she was obviously pleased with what she found. Another whisper and Van started to slowly undress him, revealing the largest cock I had ever seen (not that I'd seen many). It must have been a good nine inches long and most likely two inches in diameter. She grasped it with one hand, admiring the girth, and slowly started to pull him off.

From the look on his face he was clearly enjoying the attention, but he also had other ideas. He reached back under Van's skirt again and this time pulled her knickers down over her hips, letting them fall down her legs to the ground. Her skirt fell back into position so I didn't have the chance to catch a glimpse of Van's nether regions.

He sat down on a bench, leaning back against the wall and beckoned her over. She didn't need to be asked twice. Kneeling down in front of him, she took the cock in both hands and started to pump it again with both hands. Before long she replaced her hands with her mouth. Up and down she bobbed her head, taking as much of the shaft in each time as she could. By now he was just leaning back, eyes closed, enjoying the feelings.

She stopped, stood up and then straddled his legs, a knee on the bench either side of his thighs. With one hand she wiped his damp cock up and down her now moist pussy lips before positioning it at the entrance to her vagina. Van lowered herself slightly, taking the head barely into her pussy before stopping. I wasn't surprised, given the size of this cock, but what happened next wasn't expected.

He opened his eyes, seeing this beauty straddling his cock, and in one swift movement he grabbed Van's hips and pulled her down. She let out a scream as the cock forced its way deep inside her pussy until she was sitting on his legs. A minute to adjust then she was off, rising up and down like a piston engine, taking a little more each time as she slid up an down until eventually she was covering the full length of his manhood. He was now moaning with each stroke, head back eyes closed again. Before too long he grabbed Van in a deep embrace, pulling her tight into his chest leaving the only option for her to grind her hips back and forth.

His moans became louder as he tensed and shot his load deep up inside her pussy.

Kissing him, Van slowly removed herself from his cock and turned to pick up her knickers. I got up and left, intent that she wouldn't find me watching, but not before I noticed the dampness in my own loins, a little wet spot on my knickers.

I returned to the changing rooms and Van followed a few minutes later, looking a little hot and flustered. We packed up and left, a good half an hour or so later than I had planned.

As expected the traffic was heavy by then, so I decided to take a detour off the highway and to go through the country lanes for a while before rejoining the highway near Charlottesville. All was going well and we were making up time when all of a sudden, in the middle of nowhere, the love machine started to cough and splutter.