Longing

Alicia Moore was the devil in disguise – at least that's what the consensus of my High School buddies was. We weren't in the "in crowd," although we were among the smartest kids in the class and good athletes in "minor" sports (not football or basketball where the prestige was) but we all considered ourselves "late bloomers." To every heterosexual guy that I knew, who had ever entered her aura, Alicia Moore was the sexiest woman (I wondered if she ever was a "girl") in the world. While no physical feature of hers was the best anyone had ever seen – except for her oversized tits, which probably were the best – she had the notorious "it factor" in spades. There was something about the way she walked, the way she tossed her blond with red highlights hair over her shoulder, the sensuousness of her smile, and the way that her dichromatic eyes (one azure blue, the other emerald green) would bewitch anyone that she glared at, that made her the most desirable female on the planet.

Alicia Moore also lacked nothing in the smarts department either; her intelligence bordered on "gifted" and any minor lack of brain power was more than made up for by her cunningness and strange sense of morality.

While Alicia Moore's personality seemed lacking in many ways – she was obviously self-centered in addition to having a strange sense of morality – that was over looked by anyone that she paid any attention to. Just being in her aura was enough to overlook any fault.

I didn't know it as my senior year in High School started after Alicia Moore and I had turned eighteen at the start of the summer (we shared the same birthdate, something that always seemed to give me false hope through middle school and our first three years of High School), but she would become one of the most significant people in my life.

***********

My senior year in High School moved along about as expected the first semester. I did very well academically (I had only gotten As in High School), the cross-country season had gone almost as well since I finished 16th in the state meet, I dated a few nice looking and pleasant classmates on and off, and even lost my virginity including in an experience not nearly as awkward as many of my classmates. (I could write a separate story about that: it was with a girl/woman named Janet who was experienced. She was just visiting her grandparent neighbors of mine on a break from her school in another state. She was non-judgmental and seemingly simply loved to fuck, and a perfect teacher.)

Then Alicia Moore made an obvious effort to sit next to me in AP Physics.

Then Alicia Moore smiled at me.

Then Alicia Moore talked to me.

Then Alicia Moore didn't even seem to mind that I sounded like a tongue-tied moron when I tried to engage in a conversation with her.

Then Alicia Moore, on a day that I was walking out of AP Physics class with her, put her arm in mine and erotically asked (that's actually redundant since everything she did was "erotic") "Why have you never asked me out, Brian?"

"Uh...I...did...ask you...out several times...our sophomore year," I stammered in reply.

"That's when we were just kids," she laughed, provocatively tossing (another redundancy since everything she did was "provocative") her shimmering hair over her shoulder, and brushing her ponderous mammaries against my arm. "Why not since we've become adults?"

"Uh...well...I didn't think that you'd...uh...accept," I gulped.

"My parents will be gone this weekend. Why don't you take me out to dinner Saturday night and then go back to my house to watch a movie," she stated, didn't ask, with a sultry glare (yet another redundancy, everything she did was "sultry").

"Uh sure," I stammered feeling my entire body heating up to at least 110 degrees F as my crotch suddenly hurt.

Alicia Moore planned our date completely. I picked her up when told, we went to the restaurant she selected, and we left the restaurant at the time she decided to. Much to my relief I hadn't made any glaring errors and actually had a decent conversation with her during dinner. However, I was sweating like a pig when she snuggled up to me in my parents' Prius as I tried to navigate the way back to her house without crashing. She had me pull into her parents' garage, and then we went into their "media room" to watch a movie.

Alicia Moore got us drinks – we were under-aged but that seemed irrelevant to her – from her parents' bar, downed a rum and Coke (which appeared to be mostly rum) in one gulp herself, and handed me one. I sipped it – straight arrow that I was I never drank, and with ¾ rum in the drink she had handed me I couldn't do more than sip.

Then she selected a movie, put it into the DVD player, and started it up.

I was shocked when as soon as she pushed "play" on the screen appeared a naked woman with tits almost as big as Alicia Moore's being banged doggy style by a big dude with a wicked grin on his face, as her tits clapped together sounding like a theater at the closing curtain of a play.

Alicia Moore giggled as she said "Oh, sorry; my college-aged brother must have put one of his porn DVDs in a 'Sleepless in Seattle'" jacket." She seemed to be fumbling around to find the remote without much success while I stared at the screen mesmerized since the female porn star was plasma hot. She finally found it and laughingly pressed "stop." Then her voice suddenly got husky. "I see that I caused you a problem," she growled as she unabashedly looked at my crotch, where I had erected a nice pup tent. "Let me help you out."

With that, the unattainable goddess that called itself Alicia Moore got on her knees, unzipped my fly, pulled down my pants and boxers with my unconscious assistance, and started manipulating my balls and kissing my cock. I warned her that I would cum quickly. She just smiled and when she could tell that I was true to my word she engulfed the head of my cock with her steaming hot mouth and sucked down every milliliter of my ejaculation. While I was almost comatose, she was almost giddy as she wiped her lips with her fingers after releasing my reddened and still hard cock.

"You taste good. I hope that you like pussy for dessert because sucking down your cum has made me horny," she quipped.

Next thing that I knew we were in her bedroom, naked except for her high heels and one of my socks, and I was staring at a body that poets would write thousands of rhymes about, that minstrels would dedicate hundreds of songs to, and that no mortal man could resist.

Fortunately, during my five separate sexual encounters with Janet – my only sex partner up until that night in Alicia Moore's bedroom – Janet had taught me how to eat pussy, and Janet seemed to really enjoy it. I started in on Alicia Moore's pussy just like Janet had schooled me. It was sweeter than Janet's, Alicia Moore's clit was more pronounced, her slit was tinnier, and her thighs killer. I enjoyed it as much as Alicia Moore did when she seemed to have a rip-roaring orgasm. I played with her thighs and labia, and also the nipples of the marvels on her chest, until she came down from her climax; then she immediately maneuvered us into a sixty nine where I started sucking her clit while she sucked my cock, testicles, and then cock again.

Alicia Moore could obviously sense when I was about to cum again, at which point she rotated us 180 degrees and moaned "Get that cock in my cunt NOW."

I inserted my cock into the likely snuggest, wettest, warmest, place on the planet, and we both groaned. As inexperienced as I was I was overcome by passion and sucked on one tit and pinched the other as I pumped vigorously in-and-out. My orgasm was epic, and hers seemed to be virtually simultaneous.

My mind is fuzzy about the rest of the night. I do remember her giving me a little blue pill at two different points, and going in-and-out of euphoric consciousness several times. When I tried to count my orgasms, I couldn't really tell, but concluded that it was probably five, maybe even six. When I awoke as the sun streamed through one of her bedroom windows my cock hurt like hell and my balls were sore. I had bite marks on several parts of my body, and the sheets seemed damp with bodily fluids. What I didn't sense, however, was a body next to mine.

I stumbled into the bathroom, did my business, took a shower, and put on my clothes from the night before – no sign of Alicia Moore. I did find a note on the kitchen table, which was on my way from her room to the front door. "Had to run! Fun time! Call your parents! –smiley face–."

I called my house. My mom answered. She was frantic. "Where have you been?"

I didn't feel that I could tell her that I was getting my pipes cleaned by the woman of my dreams for the last ten-eleven hours. I told her a completely bullshit story, and when I got home I knew that I was grounded for the foreseeable future. "I was so worried about you," my mother cried. "That's completely irresponsible behavior," by father snarled.

However, for the rest of the day, despite being in deep kimchi with my parents and incessantly teased by my younger sister, I was in heaven. I couldn't concentrate on school work so for the first time in my memory I blew it off – but I felt so damn good. A goddess has showered me with her love for an entire night. My head was so full of endorphins that there was no room for rational thought – such as asking the question "Why did Alicia Moore fuck my brains out after ignoring me for years?"

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

Monday morning reality hit with the force of a linebacker sacking a quarterback. Alicia Moore gave me a polite, conventional "Hi" when I saw her in the hallway, and made no effort to accommodate me when I was obviously hoping to have a conversation with her. In advanced placement physics she moved her seat to the opposite side of the room, right near the door, and was out as soon as the dismissal bell sounded.

I was confused, perplexed, and heart broken.

For the next two weeks, despite my best efforts to engage Alicia Moore in conversation, including sending her numerous texts, I was either shown polite indifference, or was ignored. I couldn't understand how the best night of my life by a light year could suddenly be the source of constant anxiety.

As a result of Alicia Moore's coolness toward me I suffered in many ways. This included school work. I found it hard to concentrate, and much to the consternation of my teachers was getting mostly Cs on tests. My friends noticed my plight, but there was no way that I could talk to them about it. First of all, none of them even knew about my date with Alicia Moore since I didn't tell them in case it turned out to be a disaster. Of course none of them would believe for a second what really happened either – I was starting to have a hard time believing it myself, and the euphoria of that night had long since vanished. I never dated even when I was no longer grounded, and about the only area where I didn't suffer was track, where I turned my seething anger and anxiety into energy. Eventually, I even actually won the conference title in the 800, but that did little to overcome my general malaise.

It took a kick ass talk by my track coach, and a confrontation with a junior girl named Cheryl that I had dated a few times and who seemed to like me, to snap me out of it before it was too late.

The coach, in no uncertain terms, told me that although my actual performance was great that I was becoming a complete shit, and to snap out of it before he had me running wind sprints an hour every day.

Cheryl had a confrontation with me shortly after track practice two days after the coach had lit into me. Cheryl was also on the track team, and one of the more perceptive individuals I had ever met. She got right in my face.

"Brian Dozier – you've become the biggest stick-in-the-mud and jerk in the history of Hilton High," was the "pleasant" way that she started the conversation. "The only thing that could explain your attitude is that you've been 'Aliciaed.'"

"What...what...what the hell does that mean?" I snapped back.

"I know that as a guy you're probably too clueless to realize it but Alicia Moore is even more evil than she is good-looking. She's fucked up several guys in the classes before you including my brother and his best friend, two in your class, one in mine, and now you. I don't know all of the details, but that's the only thing that could explain it," she snarled.

She then went on to describe what had happened to her brother and his best friend which she had good knowledge of, and what had happened to the other three she mentioned which she had good gossip about; in each case Alicia Moore had used a guy to her advantage and his detriment. She concluded it by slapping me in the face and then announcing "Get your head out of your ass or your acceptances at Stanford, Duke, and Northwestern will be withdrawn and you'll have no hope of a scholarship; plus you'll miss the opportunity to take me to prom."

Then she turned and walked away.

That night I had a heart-to-heart with myself. I knew that both the track coach and Cheryl were right. I reviewed my performance in the six academic classes I was taking and surmised that I had a high C or low B in each. I had only about two months to recover.

The next day I cornered Cheryl after track practice. I sheepishly said "Thank you for setting me straight. I'll be forever grateful."

"Are you back to the old Brian Dozier?" she skeptically asked.

"If not, I will be by this weekend," I replied. "Will you go to a movie with me to see for yourself?"

"Will that lead to a prom date?" she inquired with an evil smile.

"If you'll have me I'll ask you right now – will you go to prom with me in two months?"

"I'll give you a tentative 'yes,' assuming that the old Brian Dozier does emerge. When are you picking me up on Saturday – we should be back from the track meet by 5:30."

"I'll be there at six thirty – your choice of movie, even if it is a chick flick," I grinned.

I am happy to report that I did get my head out of my ass and was able to get my grades up to four As and two Bs by report card time, and selected Stanford, including with a partial academic scholarship. I also had a great time with Cheryl, and she lost her virginity to me at post-prom. It was the first real sex that I had since my escapade with Alicia Moore. I treated Cheryl gently and she seemed very happy with the encounter. I unfortunately compared it to the white-hot sex with Alicia Moore and it paled by comparison, but I didn't let on. In fact, Cheryl and I had several other pleasant sexual encounters before I left for Stanford, even though neither of us expected a long term relationship. However, I would always be grateful to Cheryl.

Even someone as dense and star-struck as myself finally figured out Alicia Moore when she became valedictorian over me with a grade point to the second decimal place better than mine; her fucking up my mind for a couple of months while she plowed on got her the top spot in our class. No one that I knew clapped after she delivered the valedictorian address at graduation and the lack of a warm response was obvious to everyone there. Alicia Moore could give a shit – she got what she wanted.

Despite my general recovery, I found it hard to get the night of zealous, wanton, sex with Alicia Moore entirely out of my mind for years to come; and I also was bitter and felt foolish at the same time. I had this unfulfilled yearn to get revenge by using her like she had used me, something I realistically thought would never be possible. One thing that I did have to thank Alicia Moore for, however (aside from the best sex of my life even if only for one night), is that gave me a healthy skepticism. It was very unlikely that I'd ever be fooled again.

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

I graduated from Stanford with a B. S. in physics, and then Northwestern law school, and got a job as a federal prosecutor in Chicago. After two years there, I moved to the Washington, D. C. area to begin work as a prosecutor on a task force that dealt with organized crime. By the time that I moved to the Washington, D. C. area I had expelled all thoughts of Alicia Moore from my conscious mind (emphasis on "conscious"). I had no successful long term relationship during this time, although I did have my fair share of ass.

The task force that I worked on in the D. C. area included several state cops and even local cops from Northern Virginia, as well as FBI and DEA agents. About the third month I was working there I was introduced to a local cop, Alicia Grant, who had been undercover since I had arrived and was now emerging from the shadows.

Aside from sharing her first name with Alicia Moore, Alicia Grant appeared to be nothing like her. Alicia Moore is (or at least "was" when I knew her), as I earlier described, of average size with a soft (delectably so) body with enormous tits, blondish-reddish hair, and dichromatic eyes. Alicia Grant is big (probably 5 feet 11 inches tall, only three inches shorter than me, and a solid 150 pounds) with a hard body. She has tits that look too small for her large frame, but a world class ass and thighs if you like a big, muscular, no-fat, woman. Her hair is jet black, and her eyes seem to have jet black irises too, unique in my experience, which highlight an attractive face. While not classically beautiful she definitely is pretty in a Gina Carano, Ronda Rousey kind of way (good-looking former MMA fighters and now B-grade movie actresses).

Her hand-shake was as firm as any man's. She was obviously no-nonsense, and looked me straight in the eye.

In a task force conference room Alicia Grant sat down with me, two FBI agents, and an assistant prosecutor (despite my relative youth I had quickly become the lead prosecutor) to discuss what she had learned over the last several months undercover. She was articulate, straight forward, and kick-ass. I tried to remain professional – and thought that I pulled it off – but I really wished that I had mirrored sunglasses on so that I could blatantly stare at her killer thighs.

When the meeting broke up I had one subject that I wanted to talk to her about one-on-one (that didn't involve the others) and she had something to bring up with me. After everyone else left I talked with her about my topic, she talked with me about hers – she wanted a month's break before going back undercover, which I agreed to – and then she said "I have one more issue."

"What's that?" I innocently asked.

"Why were you blatantly staring at my thighs? Not very professional, was it?"

At first I was taken aback; I'm sure that I blushed; then I decided that there was only one way to deal with this woman. Be as no-nonsense as she was.

"I'm sorry that you think that it was unprofessional. I meant no disrespect. However, it was hard not to since they are the best thighs that I've ever seen, and the rest of your package is enough to make a eunuch cum," I replied, staring directly into her eyes.

"Not into big tits, then?" was her deadpan reply.

"I don't have any body parts that I'm 'into' or not 'into;' I'm interested in entire packages, and I hope that I'm not being disrespectful or unprofessional if I can't help but be enormously impressed by yours," was my equally deadpan reply.

"Into only looks, Mr. Prosecutor?" she sniped.

"To me the 'whole package' includes intelligence and being happy in one's own skin. From just talking with you for two hours I know that you've got those covered as well," I sniped back.

"Seems to me that you want to date me, cowboy; how would that work with us on the same task force?" she inquired, this time with a wry smile.

"You're off for a month, we'll only need you for another month after that, and then we won't have any work connection at all," I smiled.