My Little Dark Bicyclist

"Mmm, Okay Amara honey, I can live with that. Actually, I like 'Schmeckel.' It has such an old world Yiddish ring to it, especially for a nice little gentile boy." We both laughed hard.

"Michael! Please!" She said holding her stomach. "But please come over tonight ... make love to me all night tonight, and all day tomorrow." She stopped pushing her bike, turned her back to me, and pulled down her shorts enough to show me the cleavage and part of her amazing little ass cheeks, "And, this will be all yours as anytime you want it!"

I gulped. I didn't have an answer for that, other than to adjust myself inside my shorts. Then, I did answer her by saying,

"Amara, you are the most amazingly beautiful woman I have ever been with, since my eighteenth birthday party, when Mary Lou Simpson made a man of me."

"Oh, I am so jealous of Mary Lou ... what's-her-name, Michael." She said with false frown, then her expression brightened and she laughed. I loved her sense of humor.

We were ready for our ride home, or at least back to my little red Jeep, as I set my bike down to help her on to hers. She really didn't need the help, but it gave me an opportunity to get my hands on her tight little ass again. I mounted my bike, and we road abreast on the wide shoulder of the road all the way back to town.

I had a change of clothes in the back my Cherokee as I always do, so we just put both bikes inside, and drove to her place. We showered together, soaping and fondling each other, cleaning in every little place ... likeeverylittle place! Her hard slender little arms and legs felt incredible wrapping themselves around me, as she put her arms around my neck and rubbed her soapy mound against my groin.

We dressed, and went down stairs to think about dinner. She wore a short yellow sundress, with cotton panties, but no bra, and a pair of small white low-heel slip-ons. I wore jeans, a western style shirt, and boots. I never wear underwear with jeans since they ride up against the stiff fabric.

I invited her out to dinner at a nice restaurant. I let her choose which one, but told her I would choose the wine. She said she loves Italian, so we picked out a good one, and I was happy with her choice of spicy food, with the prospect of my selecting an equally spicy wine.

She was a vision of loveliness, and was very dainty and lady-like at dinner. We toasted our nascent friendship with a linked arm toast close in to the table, and close in to her lovely florid face. The candlelight flickered attractively across her face, and her full ruby lips, as they parted invitingly. I kissed her.

We talked easily and pleasantly about our respective activities and studies-work. I am an advanced-level downhill skier, and she has never been, so I told her I would teach her. She said that she is an excellent tennis player, a 4.0-4.5 on the USTA rating system, and although I like tennis I am more of a 3.0-3.5 player, so she said she work with me on that. We explored all of our interests, and made plans to share them as long as we stayed together.

But, although it was just one afternoon, weweretogether. We were a couple. We got on so well right from the start, and I felt that I was starting to fall in love with Amara. I love her beauty, and her intelligence. I love her sense of humor, which was quick and a good match for mine. I love the way she raises her head and smiles at me, and I love the way she touches me with her slender little fingers.

Toward the end of the meal, she seemed to be quite and thoughtful. I had my hand on the table, and she reached over with her long fingers, and massaged my fingers with hers. She looked into my eyes, and although there was "I love you" in her eyes, she knew that it was too early for such a declaration and simply said,

"Michael, I am so happy that you found me today." As she said that, her eyes sparkled with the tears starting to well-up a little in them.

I took her small hand in both of mine, and could feel my eyes moisten as I replied,

"Amara, you are so beautiful, and so smart. I love your sense of humor, and the sweet way of you. I love the way you bite your lower lip when you are nervous, like you are doing now, and I am happy I found you today. And, I am going to make sweet, sweet love to you all night long, my lovely girl."

"Oh, Michael ..."

That was all she could get out as her chin trembled with the deep emotion of such a heavy moment. I was not sure I would be able to get another word out myself, as we just looked into each other's moist faces. A tear rolled down her cheek, and I wiped it away with my thumb as I held her face. I placed little kisses on her moist eyes.

The bill was paid, and the tip left on the table, so we got up to leave. When I came around to her side and hugged her, she lost it and sobbed into my shoulder until it was all out. I am sure other patrons watched our very public display of emotion, but I didn't notice them. Amara was the only person in the world to me at that moment.

I knew it though; I loved her. I was happy having this lovely little twenty-year old girl in my arms, even as she turned my favorite western shirt into a swamp! I was determined to hold on to her love and friendship for as long as she would let me.

She raised head then slowly raised her beautiful wet glistening eyes, looked into mine and quietly said,

"Take me home, darling!"

To be continued (?)