The Story of Sarah

Author's note: This story is entirely fiction, and crafted to fit the guidelines of the site, with hope. I do not know if my style of writing is enjoyable to many or any of you. So, this first chapter, contains no sex, but, if you enjoy it, and want me to continue with the story, please comment accordingly. If not, that's cool too. I may continue anyway :. Just trying something out here.

I have never been unfaithful to my wife. The thought of being unfaithful was foreign to me. Marriage meant I'd found the one. A woman beautiful enough to still a previously roaming eye. A woman intelligent enough to challenge me. A woman sexual enough to satiate rather robust appetites.

The concept that another woman could intrude upon the adoration I hold for my wife, tempting me, seemed inconceivable. Then the doorbell rang. And it wasn't a woman, at all, that tested that concept.

"Hi. I'm raising money for gymnastics. Would you like to buy a magazine?"

I bought five. And so began an internal clock, counting down to the day I'd cheat on my wife. A clock I often denied existed, and ultimately required a strange invitation to fully recognize. A matter of time before I cheated on my wife with this petite little girl.

"You will?" And the smile she gave was enough to make me wish I'd bought more. "That's so great."

That was largely the extent of my conversation with Sarah. I wrote the check out to her mother. Told her I'm always willing to support the local high school in any way I could. Heard her respond that she didn't begin high school until next year.

Smiled and thanked her. Shut the door. Set the alarm on the internal clock to five years (added to date the story for legal purposes you know) with a slow, long, exhale of breath that was not enough to ease the arousal that was coming. Perhaps all of us experience something like this. Meeting someone who simply causes something inside you to distraction.

For me it was a 5'1, 90-pound girl. I'd never experienced anything like it. In my mind, that day, I did to her things I would do in reality much later. In my mind I imagined exactly what a gymnast could do to fulfill those robust appetites. It wasn't until a couple of years later did my imagination include that which a high school swimmer could do.

To me, Sarah was absolutely adorable. But, she never became homecoming queen. She never made it as a cheerleader - much to her expressed distress on a day that almost caused the internal clock to buzz early (but this is for later in this story). She was pale (something I've come to like being in a cold climate). Had a small scar on her chin. Her black hair was stringy and just above her shoulders.

I never remember her wearing makeup. She grew only a couple of inches in the years I knew her before and in the years since I've known her far better. She added a few pounds, but, even now, she's still very tiny. My guess is that appealed to me in a way I wasn't ready for.

I'm a large man, standing 6-5 and weighing 245 pounds. Heavily involved in athletics so I've maintained good musculature even as the years kept piling on. The dream of Sarah that first day included many thoughts of precisely how a man my size could make a girl that size feel.

Had she ever experienced a huge growth spurt, the internal clock probably would have run out of battery life, and the appeal wouldn't have been there for me. Had she ever become the school princess, her attentions may have been drawn elsewhere. But she never had a growth spurt and she never became the sought-after girl. Initially her visits were to continue raising money, expanding to inquire if I wanted her to walk my dogs, increasing in frequency to become my, then, Nintendo partner.

She wore her crush on me quite openly, but, never uncomfortably, yet with a surprising degree of discretion.

Over the years we developed an unstated system of plausible reasons to spend time together without ever drawing a great deal of attention. Either we had a reason to meet openly - dog sitting while I worked a crucial project from home - or we would meet a few blocks from her home or school and drive unnoticed into the garage.

The ability to sneak around and never draw attention to how much time we were spending together would have been crucial had we been sexually involved. But, we weren't. Nothing that could be deemed illegal was going on at this time, though, to be sure there were times that could be deemed inappropriate.

There were "almost" moments. There was a kiss (our one kiss) that day she was distraught about not being a cheerleader, ending with what I knew then was a promise, "We can't do this......" the statement drifting into an unstated ".....until you're 18." She stopped crying, I remember. Big eyes gazing at me that day with just a slight nod.

There were, several, "fashion" shows, modeling her swim suit or her gymnastics outfits. She was always clothed, though, at times the clothing would be slightly ill-fitting. She'd bring them because her dad said she couldn't wear them, but she didn't see anything wrong with them and did I? I honestly didn't. Though, on my own daughter I just might have.

Over the years, the tenor of our meetings did become more sexually directed, at least in terms of how we interacted. We openly flirted. She knew I liked looking at her and I knew she liked me to look. We would play video games where if she won I had to give her $10, but if I won, she had to make some incredible show of flexibility for me.

I remember when I first made that the terms of my bet, when she was 15, she actually gasped and said, "Did you like that when I was younger too?"

I didn't answer, but she did, "You're such a perv." Maybe. But, again, nothing ever happened, save that one, brief kiss. In the time since, she and I have relived those moments, her playing the age of a memory, allowing us to make up, many times over, the lack of activity when she was younger.

Often we end a session together now somewhat regretful we didn't start earlier. But we didn't. In fact, she thought I wouldn't. She went through high school a virgin because she thought I'd be her first. Now she's 22 and we've been having an affair - meeting three or four times a week - for four years, and she still holds it against me that she lost her virginity drunk at a graduation party rather than to me.

But, had it not been for that graduation party, I may never have allowed myself to realize the internal clock had sounded a couple of months before at Sarah's 18th birthday party. It wasn't until a call from the most unlikely person I could imagine that removed all doubt.

Chapter 2, "The request from the most unlikely person."