Chance Encounter Ch. 11

Before she and everyone else started calling him C, he went by Miguel. Hearing it the first time surprised everyone. His parents hailed from the Piney Woods and were pure country. How they ended up in barrio was no mystery. A coworker of his dad's took the recent immigrants under his wing and under his roof. The neighborhood was only slightly wealthier than the projects abutting it, but safe. The houses were cinder block set on a concrete slab. It wasn't a big house, but it was a happy house. His mother was a waitress at a truck stop and his dad an auto mechanic. His parents named him Miguel out of respect for the man, Miguel Flores, who befriended him when he and his very pregnant wife first showed up looking for work and a roof over their heads.

His Anglo family lived in a sea of brown. Growing up it was never an issue. He was bilingual as were his two brothers. All their friends were of Mexican heritage. His first trips with other families weren't north but south across the Rio Grande where he stayed in little towns in 2 room houses where 8 people slept in the same room where everyone shared a bed. It was he reflected a great childhood. He considered himself more Mexican than Anglo.

He rarely mixed with Anglos. At track meets he didn't mingle with them, but beat them. He was fast and he had endurance. His nickname was El Conejo, the rabbit.

College was an eye opener. He didn't fit in. Anglo or Mexican he had little in common with most of the students as their families were much more affluent. Over time he found others who felt like he did, out of place, the proverbial square peg in a round hole.

He met Jean in college; she was a freshman. He was in graduate school attending a different university, but stopped by to visit friends and walk the campus. He was in the university cafeteria when he first noticed her. She had her back to him and was walking to the cafeteria line. She wore white sandals, yellow painter pants, and a sleeveless blue shirt. She had he thought the perfect ass. Her cheeks were meaty perched on top of muscular thighs and calves. Each time she shuffled forward her cheeks strained against the yellow material. Out of habit she tightened her buttocks; he swore he could clearly see their shape as the light cotton material left little to the imagination. He wondered if she knew just how thin her pants were. He couldn't help but stare.

An instant later she vanished from his view. Someone at the table said something causing him to look away from the exit. The next time he saw her she was carrying a tray, heading straight towards him. She was he thought beautiful. Her front was every bit as good as her backside. She had deep blue eyes, long straight brown hair parted in the middle, a patrician nose, high cheekbones, a strong yet feminine chin, perfectly proportioned lips. She made eye contact with him and smiled. He smiled back wondering if she was smiling at someone behind him. Her eyes weren't looking over him but at him.

She stopped at his table.

She smiled, "You have this whole table to yourself. Would you mind sharing it with me?"

"Of course not."

She set her tray down. "I'm Jean."

"I'm Miguel."

She looked at him wondering if he was trying to be funny. He certainly didn't look like a Miguel. She decided to see if he was bluffing.

"Mucho gusto Miguel."

"El gusto es mio."

She and he continued to speak Spanish, but after a few minutes she was exhausting her Spanish as it wasn't something she spoke very often. She thought he must be a Spanish major. Finally, she asked him if he was joking or was his name really Miguel.

"Jean, swear to God, it is. My parents named me Miguel after a friend of theirs. He's my padrino."

He intrigued her and he was easy to talk to. She didn't know if he was shy or aloof. He acted interested in her. She finished eating and they chatted until her next class. She left telling him she hoped to see him around.

On her way to class she thought he was way too cute. He probably had a girlfriend. She hoped they would talk again.

He was thinking the same thing. She was he thought a goddess. He still couldn't believe she sat down at his table. The cafeteria he noted had plenty of open tables. Beautiful women didn't normally seek him out.

Later Jean ran into her cousin who was also attending college. She told him about meeting Miguel. It turned out her brother knew Miguel. She advised Jean to avoid him. He was she cautioned a womanizer, very smart, but a med school dropout with a drug habit.

Jean wondered if they were talking about the same man. She decided to find out for herself. At a campus party a few days later she saw him surrounded by several women dressed in tight clothes, barefoot, with long hair, and way too much makeup. They looked to her like sluts. He looked to be having a good time, too good a time.

A short while later she went to get a drink and spotted him sitting on the grass. He was alone. She walked over to him and asked if he would share the shade. She sat down. She was nervous. She did most of the talking trying to find out more about him. He was she found out tipsy, but not sloppy.

The more they talked the more she wanted to know him better. She hoped he asked her out. Several hours passed. He got them drinks. She watched him thinking he was thin. She felt big around him. She wondered if she weighed more than him. She loved his smile and his blue eyes. She thought his blond hair was too long.

She had to leave and attend class. She asked if he had another class to attend. He told her he wasn't in school, just hanging out. She remembered her cousin's warning. She hoped it wasn't true. She told him she hoped she would see him again. He said he would be around, but was sure they would run into each other. She wondered if he was interested in her. It was obvious to her he liked talking to her, but he didn't seem overly eager to pursue her. She sensed he was physically attracted to her. She saw him looking at her. She wondered if he had a girlfriend.

She ran into him again a few days later sitting outside. She told him about a party being thrown by a mutual friend of theirs and wondered if he was coming. He said he didn't know, but the party sounded good. She knew she was sending the right signals. He had to be an idiot to not see she liked him so why wasn't he more enthusiastic.

Friday night came and Miguel showed up at the party with another woman. She was the reason he wasn't pursuing her. She watched them and it was soon obvious they weren't dating. She made up an excuse to approach him. She asked who the woman was. He told her she was his ride. He explained how he had ended up in a friend's apartment, fell asleep, and woke up to discover his friends had left. He didn't have his car with him. The phone rang; it was the woman he showed up with. She was bored. He told her about the party. She said she would give him a ride. End of story.

Jean and he stayed inseparable for the rest of the party. His friend said she was going home. Jean volunteered to drive Miguel home. He asked if she was sure as he lived out of the way. She told him she was sure. She felt safe as she wouldn't be alone with him. She had gone to the party with her girlfriends.

They left the party as it wound down. He sat up front between she and her cousin. She commented she was hungry and wondered if he was too. He said he was. They stopped at a diner and ate. She could tell all her friends thought he was both nice and cute. She found herself feeling jealous when several of them flirted with him. She considered him hers.

After they ate she decided to get rid of her friends and dropped them off first. She knew her parents would be mad if they found out, but she wanted to be alone with Miguel.

It was late and while she was a college student she still lived at home and under her parents' rules. She had a curfew. She suspected Miguel didn't. She wondered if he would make fun of her. In the car there was space between them. She thought about asking him to sit closer, but didn't want to sound needy or too aggressive.

She looked at him and wished she had more time. She wanted to have a makeout session with him. She jumped for joy inside when he reached out and took her hand in his. They didn't hold hands, but gripped them.

"Sit closer."

He moved over.

"That's better."

He told her when to turn, but she wasn't really observing the landmarks or the telltale signs he lived across the tracks, in a world very different from hers.

He lived on a main street, but it was empty. She parked along the street.

She killed the lights and turned off the engine. They sat their holding hands, both hesitant to make the first move. She said she needed to be going and told him about her curfew. She wondered if he would make fun of her, but he didn't. He only said he didn't want her to be in trouble because of him.

She opened the door and holding his hand exited the car literally towing him with her. An outsider seeing them would have thought it strange to see the woman escorting the man to his door, but that's what she did.

They were standing holding hands looking at each other when he asked, "Jean, I had a good time."

"Me too."

"Would you like to go out?"

"I'd like that very much."

And then he totally surprised her. He put his arms around her. She returned his hug. Her breasts flattened against his chest. Instead of keeping her crotch separated from his, she was drawn to do the opposite. She wanted him to feel the fire between her legs.

He kept his eyes locked on hers. She continued to hug him, but he removed his arms from around her waist and taking his hands gently cupped each side of her face. He thanked her for inviting him and pressed his lips to hers. It was she thought the gentlest and sexiest first kiss ever. No tongue, just two pairs of lips meeting for a brief time.

She suppressed a groan. She didn't know why, but Miguel was triggering in her lustful desires.

She told him she had to go, but she made no move to take her arms from around him. He moved his hands from her face and returned to hugging her. Both thought how good it felt to embrace.

He reminded her before kissing her a second time it was late and she had a curfew.

They separated and he escorted her to her car opening the door for her and closing it after she sat down.

He was as taken with her as she with him. She started the car and was about to drive off when she realized she hadn't given him her number. She looked in her purse, found a pen and a scrap of paper, wrote her name and phone number.

She handed it to him, "Here Miguel. Call me."

"I will," he promised.

She drove off, but not before he gave her directions back to the highway. He cautioned her streets just blocks from his were unsafe. She said she would be careful. Leaving his neighborhood she noticed for the first time its shabbiness.

She didn't care Miguel was from the other side of the tracks, el barrio. All she knew was she liked him, liked him alot.

Jean would tell him much later about what she experienced that night. It was the first time in her life she truly felt sexually aroused. She felt as though her crotch was a swamp and her breasts felt swollen, her nipples painfully hard.

She didn't know it, but her effect on Miguel was just as strong. He masturbated that night dreaming of Jean. She was more than pretty; there was a decency about her. She was friendly and nice. He knew she liked him, but he didn't know how much.

He couldn't wait to see her again.

Jean replayed her first kiss with Miguel again and again. Thinking about it aroused her. She hadn't dated much and she hadn't kissed many boys, but none had the impact of Miguel's kiss. Her memories of those dates were lousy kisses, lots of tongue, and unsuccessful attempts by those boys to get inside her bra or panties. They all behaved as though sex was a given. When they discovered she wanted an emotional relationship prior to a sexual one they dropped her.

She knew she was pretty. She knew she was strong willed. She knew she was a leader. She just wondered why all the boys and men she ran into were so shallow. She seemed to date men who were her mirror opposites, handsome, strong willed, arrogant, dominant. The biggest problem is they were too much like her. They didn't connect emotionally so there was no connecting physically.

Miguel she sensed was different.

He called and they began to date. She determined their itinerary, picking the activity, where they ate, and most importantly what they did physically. He seemed perfectly content to go as slow as she desired.

She wanted someone as new to dating as she was. She discovered he hadn't dated often, had never been serious with a girl, and was a virgin. When he looked at her she got goosebumps. She noticed the only woman he even glanced at was her.

On their third date she initiated their first french kiss. To her delight she discovered he was a very good kisser. She teased him about being so good. He swore it just came naturally. He had been told he was a good kisser, but no explanation as to why followed. She told him what he did that made him such a good kisser. His kisses were wet, but not too wet. His tongue probed, but not too deep. He moved his tongue around. She liked the feel of their tongues caressing and exploring each other.

Both Jean and Miguel lacked sexual experience. What differentiated them was Jean's naivete. She had never pleasured herself whereas Miguel masturbated frequently. She had read little about sex while Miguel had read everything he could get his hands on. He knew what to expect and he understood sexual practices were varied; there was no right or wrong, just what did and didn't feel good. Normal didn't count for much in the sex department.

It was easier for Jean to learn with someone as inexperienced as her, but he also needed to be patient. She didn't want to be rushed. Miguel she found let her set the pace. He displayed the right amount of aggression.

As she and he french kissed she also encouraged Miguel to feel more of her clothed body. She took his hand off of her hip and moved it to her butt. He got the message and as they kissed both of his hands squeezed and rubbed her ass. She also became aware of his erection feeling it against her as he pulled her towards him.

She loved the feel of his hands on her ass. She whispered as they were standing by the curb in her front yard, "What you're doing feels so sexy. It makes our kisses even hotter."

A few minutes later Miguel got to feel Jean's breast. She suggested they lay on the ground. She lay on her back and he lay atop her. She took his hand as they kissed and placed it on her breast. Covered by a bra and a blouse Miguel didn't care. All he thought was how magnificent it felt. The perfect size and heft. He gently massaged it and she reacted by squirming. He increased the pressure causing her to groan even as their mouths were glued together. Using his thumb and forefinger he located her erect nipple and rolled it. Her kissing became frantic as did her squirming. Her pelvis seemed to have a mind of its own. Only his upper body was on top of her. He was tempted to take his hand from her breast and place it between her thighs.

He didn't as he was determined to let her set the pace for the physical side of their relationship. He didn't want her to even think he was after her for sex. From the way she talked just allowing his hands to roam on her clothed body was a huge step.

They saw each other alot over the next few weeks. Their makeout sessions began to consume more of their time together. His hands remained outside her clothes but she made it clear he was free to touch to his heart's content. She especially liked it when he placed his hand between her jeans clad thighs. She would close her legs and rub her crotch against his hand. He would press back. He noticed when she got excited their french kisses would go on forever. She would be gasping for air when they finally separated, but it wasn't from the kisses.

Jean appreciated Miguel's patience. She wanted more and suspected he did too. She could feel his erection when they embraced. She had run her hands all over his body, but purposely avoided his crotch.

Several weeks into their makeout sessions, Jean witnessed her first orgasm. She an Miguel were laying on the front lawn of her house, bodies pressed against one another when he became too aroused and climaxed. She honestly didn't know what was happening. Miguel began to breathe harder and groaned. His climax took him by surprise as much as it did her. It came out of nowhere. When he felt it approaching he didn't pull away, but pressed hard against Jean's crotch. His cum shot out in a series of rapid fire contractions aimed directly at the split in her peach.

After he came he felt it necessary to explain what had transpired. He used the word accident to describe his climax. She thought he had wet his pants. He told her no and explained what he meant by accident. I clasped her tight around the waist and pressed her crotch against me.

She wasn't upset with him, but ecstatic. She thrilled knowing she had that affect on him. She asked him to describe how it felt. She told him she often felt the same way while they made out. She really had no idea she could climax too. She thought the way she was feeling meant she needed to urinate. She explained how wet her panties and jeans were after their makeout sessions. She would wonder if she had accidentally wet her pants, but she knew the source of that wetness was her vagina, not her urethra.

She didn't tell him, but his climax made her want the same. In bed at night she found herself exploring her genitals. Spreading her labia with a finger she would find it quickly covered with her vaginal secretions. She took her lubricated finger and moved it higher locating her clitoris. She would rub it getting more excited, but not long or with enough pressure to make herself orgasm. She didn't know why, but she was afraid of what would happen.

She had been wanting to do more with Miguel, but thought after kissing the only thing left was intercourse and she didn't want to get pregnant. Seeing him climax and masturbating in bed made her realize they could both get alot of pleasure without fucking.

She still wanted to take it slow, but she decided it was time she let Miguel inside her clothes.

On their next date she wore a shirt that buttoned in front. A few minutes into their makeout session she placed his hand on her breast and whispered to him to unbutton her shirt. She was nervous, but noticed he was alot more as his fingers literally shook as he undid the buttons of her shirt. He unbuttoned her entire shirt completely exposing her torso. He caressed her now exposed abdomen. She took his hand and placed it on her bra covered breast. He played with one then the other breast. A few minutes later she pulled away. Sounding both frustrated and aroused, she leaned forward and asked him to undo her bra. He reached behind her and after a half minute figured out how to unsnap her bra.

He then pulled the cups away from her breasts. Even though it was dark outside there was enough light from a nearby street lamp for him to see her breasts for the first time. They were peach-sized and much paler than the rest of her torso; the nipples were small, very pink, and fully erect. He caressed them as they kissed. She lay down on the ground and pulled him on top of her. She opened her legs. He could feel the heat emanating from her crotch. As they kissed she began to rub her crotch against his. He rubbed back and they dry humped each other. He told her he was getting very excited and didn't want to cum in his pants but she encouraged him to go ahead. He came.