Summer Angel

Ah, Elizabeth. What can I say. From the moment I saw her, I wanted her terribly. I suppose that the best way to describe her is to say that she is what every real man wants, in his heart of hearts. So many men are hypocrites. They want a woman at home who is shy and virginal - pure. But they want to go outside of their relationship for sexual pleasure - they want to find a whore. Truly enlightened men, who have been fortunate enough to find truly enlightened women, know that the most desirable woman is she who is both pure and libidinous; she who is demure one moment and animalistic the next. From moment one, I knew Elizabeth was just such a woman.

She is a beautiful young woman, 19 or 20, with long wavy blue-black hair, piercing blue eyes, and a generally slim build, but one with the hips and behind of a woman twice her size. She looks cute in skirts, but better in pants, which accentuate the wonderful shapeliness of her below-torso body. She dresses pretty stylishly for such a young woman, especially one growing up in the Midwest (attending college in our nation's capital has surely been a good influence). Her shy smile would melt the coldest heart, but her sharp tongue could put the most cocky womanizer in his place in a heartbeat.

Although I saw her around the office occasionally, and we did briefly speak on occasion, I never really got much of a chance to get to know her, enjoy her company, or appreciate her beauty for any extended period of time until she began assisting my immediate supervisor. What a stroke of luck! As our mutual boss is big on delegating, rather than each of us working with him, we found ourselves working together quite often. As such, I had the bittersweet opportunity to spend time with her...and to learn that she had a boyfriend.

I had resigned myself to the reality of appreciating Elizabeth from afar when another lucky stroke came my way. We found ourselves working late one evening. It's an age old tale, ripe for fiction, but sometimes it's real. Sometimes it's real...nice. It seemed hot in the office that night, though it easily could have been my imagination...or the pheromones flying between us. We kept it generally professional, but any observer (and thank goodness there were none) would have easily noticed the chemistry, the innocent flirtation, the connection. Our project completed, I asked Elizabeth where she'd parked, saying that I would walk her to her car given the late hour. She said that she carpools, and that her ride had left long ago; she planned to call a taxi.

"Don't be ridiculous," I said. "I'll give you a ride home."

A brief pause as she considered the offer, her head tilted and her tongue askance at the left side of her mouth.

My heart sank when she replied, "You know, that's OK. I appreciate it, but I don't want you to go out of your way. Plus, I need to get something to eat." Recovering, I said, "Really, it's no problem at all. Besides, don't you think I'm hungry too?"

An hour later, we'd had a light meal, not so light drinks, and a lot of fun. We joked about people at work, our families, compared college stories, and laughed a lot. I think I laughed hardest at her insistence that she was really two people: Elizabeth, who was incredibly naive, let people push her around (figuratively), and loved to watch the sun set; and Liz, who did things she could never tell her parents, told people off, and wanted to go bungee jumping. She was two people alright; both of them incredible. At any rate, it was eventually time to go. We paid the bill, walked to my car, and after the doors were closed and I'd started the engine, she said...

"I don't want you to take me home." Before I could let this unexpected statement soak in, she continued. "Take me to your condo?" Oh, Elizabeth. I loved the way she said it - like so many obviously intelligent women who still say everything - even statements about which they are completely convinced - as though it is a question. On the one hand, maybe it was actually questionable to her. Maybe sweet, unassuming Elizabeth had no idea how badly I wanted to make love to her - to meld our bodies and ride our passion long into the night. But on the other hand, how could the more worldly Liz not sense how I had always become a puddle in her presence?

We drove to my condo in silence. Elizabeth (or was it Liz?) had done her part, and soon, the time would come for me to do mine. I knew that I would have to stop being so damn enthralled by her, find a way to summon a little testosterone, and take control once we reached my building. Though we were silent, the air was thick with possibility and anticipation. Perhaps in preparation for our coming union, I felt myself growing more in tune with Elizabeth's body. It may have been my imagination, but I was nearly certain that our breathing synchronized. Clearly not a figment of my imagination was Elizabeth's hand on mine as we pulled into my parking spot.

Turning to face her, I softly said, "Let's go upstairs." As we walked inside, our hands bumped, and our fingers slowly intertwined. We shared our first kiss as the elevator creaked to my floor. With no shame about being maudlin, I can only say that the kiss, while brief, was magical. If there is anything sweeter than the sharing of a first kiss between two who have so long desired that kiss, I have yet to find it. Such soft lips, such a sweet, faint scent, both portending pleasures to come.

Inside, though sweetness remained, we both knew why we had come. Straight to my bedroom. All clothes quickly removed. I was astounded. Elizabeth's body was beautiful, virtually glowing by the light from the moon through the blinds. Sparse freckles dotted the landscape of her breasts, which were capped by small, but erect nipples. I wanted them in my mouth, but first, I needed more of Elizabeth's sweet mouth on mine.

On my bed, we kissed. It could have only been minutes but it felt like both hours and like seconds. It was great. Our tongues were meant for one another, and I was certain that the rest of our bodies were meant to be together as well. Soon enough, I knew that I was right.

Of course I had to taste her. Working my way from the side of her neck slowly across her clavicle, down the furrow between her breasts, into and out of her navel, over her pubic mound, and finally, FINALLY, into the damp, warm center of her desire. I licked her, slowly, relishing her taste, and the way that she reacted to my tonguing. Elizabeth shook, trembled, and could barely stay in one spot on the bed as I internally vowed to treat her to the best cunnilingus of her young life.

After her third or fourth climax, I could no longer refrain from being inside her. Quickly sheathing myself, I began to slowly insert my penis.

Elizabeth was no virgin, but her tightness and tentativeness made it clear that she was not a very sexually experienced woman. I certainly had no problems with this. She had gasped when I inserted just the head inside her, and she continued to gasp and shudder as a filled her with inch after inch. Once in to the hilt, I started to slowly piston in and out, before graduating to more spirited strokes.

I don't know how long we made love, but it was phenomenal from start to finish.

It was our only night together that summer, and Elizabeth soon went back to school. We don't keep in touch, but I will never forget that evening, and I would imagine that neither will she.