The Story of Charlotte McPherson

But I still remember every detail. Back then, because of the intensity maybe, it was different than usual. Sort of a heightened sense of what I was doing and what was happening. Obviously I've played it over in my mind many times over the years. Maybe the thing I read about memory earlier is true. Maybe some of the details have been obfuscated. But honestly, I really don't think so. The details still seem so clear to me.

I had to shake Charlotte a little to make sure she wasn't awake. But I knew from experience with my wife that she would be out. I even lifted one of her eyelids. Her left one. When I let go the eyelid closed slowly over her pretty blue eye.

I was standing on the side of her bed. So I gently turned Charlotte's face toward me and looked at her for a minute. I ran a finger over her lightly freckled nose and over her lips, which were just slightly parted. I pushed a few strands of her long dark red hair away from her face and kissed her lightly, then more firmly, and then stuck my tongue in her mouth so that I could feel the wetness of her tongue against mine.

---

Why did I do what I did? I still ask myself that sometimes. Over time I know I've changed, though not fundamentally. Do I regret it? If I'm honest, the answer is 'no.' Although there were consequences, or repercussions. Things worked out fine in the end.

Expurgation? No, don't worry. I'll tell you what you want to know. Have a little patience.

Over the past few years there have been some highly publicized cases that you might think are like mine. Man, that's not the way I see it. There's that guy, that actor, that used to play Huxtable and some other things on TV. There's a retired star football player. They both got into trouble. Although I guess the Huxtable guy was released. But it sounded like it might have been more because of a technicality than that he really didn't do it.

Adventitious. I think that's the way those guys operated -- I suppose you'd have to add an "ly" to the end of the word. They didn't care. They were just looking for opportunities with anyone. At least that's what I decided after reading about it in the paper. It was almost random. Especially for that football player.

With me it was different. Charlotte was, she still is, special to me. I know that my attraction to her happened fast. And, yes, I did what I did. Anyway, I know I'm different than those guys. You might agree with me -- I hope you do. Or you might not -- if that's what you think there's not much I can do about it.

I had been going over in my mind about how much I had enjoyed seeing Charlotte when she was lying on the couch in her leggings. So after I got done kissing her, I wanted to start by seeing what I had seen the previous day. From the same perspective. Even though I was pretty sure she wouldn't wake up I slowly pulled down her blanket. I could see that she was wearing a long cotton nightgown with small flower patterns all over. So I reached across to her right shoulder and rolled her toward me, then all the way over so she was in prone position (yes, I did go look up prone vs. supine since this is the second time it's come up). Her head was on the pillow turned to the side toward me.

I memorized the outline of Charlotte, through the nightgown, from her head all the way down to her feet. Her nightgown came down to her ankles. Her round ass was elevated compared with her legs and low back. I slowly pulled her nightgown up and her slim, smooth legs came into view. As I started to pull the bottom of the nightgown up over her butt, I distinctly remember gasping -- it was probably because of the view but I think I had also been inadvertently holding my breath.

The next part, I wish I could tell you in a way that would put you there with me, but it's almost like words can't even convey the picture or the feeling. She was completely naked under the nightgown. This surprised me since Kathy always wore underwear under her nightgown. Except of course sometimes she'd have to take them off before we made love. And then she wouldn't usually put them back on until morning.

After I pulled her nightgown up further to expose her lower back, I ran the back of my hand along the length of Charlotte's legs. Her skin was cool and very smooth. She almost felt like silk.

But I knew what I really wanted to do, so that's what I did. I pulled her feet and lower legs up and crossed them so that her knees bent. This caused her butt to rise gently, just as it had when she was lying on the couch reading her book. I'm not sure what more I can say to give you a better picture. Well, her ass was both soft and firm, sort of slender because Charlotte herself was slender. And although trim, her butt was still substantial in my hands.

I gently ran my right hand over her ass, which had the same sleek texture as her legs. I used my fingertips to trace all of her curves, just as I had imagined doing when she was lying there on the couch the day before. Yes, I did touch her entire -- her everything. From her lower back, up over her the rise of her smooth rump, over the lower outside part of her ass where it widened and was a little softer near the place where it met her legs. And yes, I used my fingers to trace the shallowness where her crack started at the top of her butt all the way down to where the flesh of the two sides, her cheeks, squeezed my descending finger.

I put her feet back down, rested the side of my head on the back of her right thigh and watched as I let my fingers explore her. Yes, of course I was looking at her pussy too. I pushed her left leg out first a little and then more, and that caused her chubby lips (her labia) to part, revealing a pinker area further within that looked wet. Below that, toward the bed, I could see the tip of her clit, pink, matching the color between her parted labia.

I know that earlier I was unsure about whether I could remember seeing Charlotte's clit through her leggings. I still think that I could. But that night in the guest bedroom? Obnubilated? Definitely not. I was able to study her, and I know for sure that her clit was sticking out a little because I could see it directly. Really, the entire view was momentous. A memory I still replay frequently.

To roll her back over was easy. Lift her right shoulder and turn her upper body back and then push her lower body all the way over too. Although I remembered that Charlotte made a quiet noise, more like a sigh when I rolled her back over. That made me pause for a few seconds to make sure that she was still asleep.

Her head was back on the pillow again, just as it was when I first entered the room, her dark red hair across her face and strewn along the pillow. Charlotte's waist was slender, but she looked kind of athletic at the same time. In the front, the bones of her pelvis pushed upwards gently. She was laying with her right leg straight, left leg bent at the knee allowed a direct view of the parted lips between her legs. Her pubic hair, just as I had seen through the window the previous evening, was curly and dark red.

I spend some time running my fingers through the trimmed dark red triangle, watching the curly strands filter over the tops of my fingertips, then down along the front of her thighs, back over the triangle and up to her tummy.

There was a joke I heard recently that started with the idea that there are only three types of men: leg men, ass men, and tit men. I couldn't remember the punch line so tried to Google "three types of men," but just got something about men being either neo-traditionalists, egalitarian, or progressive. Obviously, that wasn't what I was looking for. So I'm sorry that I don't have the punch line, which is too bad because the joke was funny. But the reason the joke came to mind is that it's not that simple. At least speaking for myself, I like, admire, and enjoy everything, not just one part. In Charlotte, I enjoyed all three of those. Plus, personality is important to me. I hope that's come across in this true story about Charlotte, so far. I'm probably taking the premise of the joke too seriously.

I pulled up Charlotte's nightgown further, until it came all the way up to her chin. Her breasts were medium size, and nice, and her pinkish tan nipples looked soft. At least at first. I spent some time kneading her breasts gently, enjoying the smoothness of her pale skin and the slight resistance of the rounded mounds.

In licking her left nipple, which was closest to me, I could feel in my mouth that it was becoming harder, so I sucked on it for a while as I looked up at Charlotte's face to make sure she was still asleep. Then I released it I saw that it was hard and pointing toward the ceiling. It looked like the right one was also a little harder. But out of fairness I spent about the same amount of time with the right nipple. When I was done they were both pointed.

That first time, I remember wishing that I had brought my camera with me so that I could get a picture of Charlotte, with her heart-shaped face, eyes closed, her lightly freckled nose, dark red straight hair, and her breasts. Well, I was able to take a picture like that two days later but won't include that part in the story here. Part of what I did two days later was a little perverse. Something that took a little while for me to work up to. Maybe I'll tell about that some other time. I'd have to think about whether that would be a good idea.

No, I hadn't forgotten. How could I have? I returned to dark red triangle. Charlotte's left leg was still bent at the knee and out wide. So I was finally able to run my hand, my left hand, over Charlotte's pussy. I gently caressed her puffy lips and let my middle finger slowly move back and forth over the slit, parting her lips, and entering her warm wetness.

And yes, she was surprisingly wet. More so than I had expected. So it was easy for me to insert both my middle and index fingers and slowly enjoy the sensation of the warmth and depth. I used my thumb in a circular motion on her clit but decided to stop because Charlotte stirred when I did that and made an 'Mmm' sound, which wasn't bad, but it startled me. So I explored her for a while, watched my fingers go into and out of her. I well remember the combination of both slipperiness and stickiness. I then watched and studied her beautiful face as I massaged the walls past her opening.

---

Yes, you don't have to tell me. Most people would say what I did was wrong. As I said earlier I do know right from wrong but what I was able to do, the way that I was able to enjoy Charlotte, was like a dream. And it didn't seem as though any harm would come of it at the time.

Of course in hindsight it's easy to say I should have predicted that it would be hard for me to stop. And that's right. Maybe in the back of my mind I did know that. My intention had been to enjoy Charlotte, to touch her and explore her body as I had been able to do, just as I've tried to describe to you. I had not intended to do more. I realize you might not believe that but, really, it's true.

So as I was penetrating Charlotte with my fingers, thinking about how it felt to run them between the puffy lips of her labia, thinking about her curves, her smile, her mischievous blue eyes, her long smooth legs, her naked butt, her nicely proportioned breasts with their nipples that now extended toward the ceiling, I was obviously turned on. As I look back on it, I had been turned on for two solid days thinking about her.

I was hard. My cock was extending my underwear through the gap in my bathrobe. I could see the spot on my underwear where a large wet spot had formed from my pre-cum. At that point, I'm not going to waste your time telling you that I was wrestling with what to do. I had already decided so I'm not going to pretend.

I took my underwear off and put them in a pocket in my bathrobe -- I didn't want to somehow forget them. And looking at my cock, I could see that it was pulsing with every beat of my heart and that there was a large drop of fluid at the end. And for some reason, I left my bathrobe on. Because I had the idea that if Charlotte, or Amelia, woke up it would be better for me to have my robe on. Same deal if my wife somehow came running into the room. If my excuse was that I heard a noise and was standing next to Charlotte naked, that would kind of sabotage my excuse. But given what I had already done, what I was about to do, it now seems silly that I left my robe on.

There's not much more to tell about this part of the story. I lifted both of Charlotte's knees and placed both of her feet on the mattress. When I did that I was surprised because both of her legs fell outward rather than remaining up and the splaying of her legs made her labia open more so that it looked a little obscene. But of course I didn't mind that. I could see that she looked very wet around the part that I had been touching. And it was probably wet too because I had been massaging her inner walls for such a long time.

I knelt between her spread legs, leaned forward and rubbed the tip of my cock against the opening. Then I put each of my arms behind her knees, rocked her back and, I should have been more cautious, pushed all the way in.

The feeling was indescribably wonderful. Charlotte's wet warmth engulfed me as I gently rocked back and forth all the way into her to the hilt and then back out again. She was literally a perfect fit me. I was afraid she might wake up. She murmured something I couldn't understand but kept her eyes closed. As I started thrusting a little bit harder I noticed her breasts, the nipples still tapering out to points, rocking forward and back in time with our movement.

I lowered myself down onto her and looked at her face directly under mine, the light freckles on her nose, and her dark red straight hair strewn across her face. I brushed the hair away from her face and kissed Charlotte, parting her lips with my tongue, just as my cock was continuing to part the puffy lips of her pussy.

As I felt the wetness of her mouth I pressed my cock down into Charlotte as far as I could and started to come. I kept coming and coming. I knew it was illicit. I'm pretty sure the fact that it was illicit and fact that it was Charlotte was what made me come so hard and for so long.

There have been other times where the pleasure has been similar. Actually, the next day, and the day after that with Charlotte were similar. What I meant was that there were some other times with my wife that have been similar. And I have had two affairs over the years, so I'll include those times as well. But if I'm honest, emptying myself into Charlotte, back during her visit in 1991 was the best.

---

I lay on top of Charlotte for a few minutes. I almost fell asleep while I was laying there inside of her. That could have been a disaster. If I had fallen asleep there.

But I did get myself up out of her bed. Her labia were still open a little and there was semen slowly running out. The white gooey viscous liquid ran along her butt crack and then started to form a pool on the sheet. I watched for a few minutes until I saw her lips slowly close. When I leaned down to look closely, again parting her labia with my fingers, I saw a lot more of my white liquid inside her mixed with her fluid. And when I removed my hand her lips slowly closed again.

I took a couple tissues from the box on the dresser in the room and wiped the semen off the puffy lips, and off the sheets, I carefully pulled Charlotte's nightgown back down around her, covered her with the blanket, kissed her and left.

About an hour after that, I had to go back to the guest bedroom, push the lock and reclose the door, because I had forgotten to relock the door when I left.

I had weird dreams that night as I lay next to my wife. And I woke up a few times. I was thinking about Charlotte being filled with my semen. I was thinking about sperm swimming inside of her. It made me turned on all over again, thinking those thoughts. So I considered getting up and going to see Charlotte again. But I looked at the clock and it was 4:13 AM -- yes, I really do remember the time. It seemed too dangerous to try. That's when I knew that I would be trying the same thing for the next two nights until Charlotte had to leave to return home.

---

The next morning I came downstairs for my coffee and cigarette before heading into work. I was surprised. Charlotte was already up on the couch reading, just as she had been a couple days earlier.

"Good morning Charlotte. Hope you slept well. You seemed pretty tired last night."

"I was! But I slept so well. I feel great this morning. How are you?"

"I'm good. Just have to get some coffee, a quick bite to eat, and maybe read the paper. Then I have to go to work. Can I get you something to eat?"

"Thanks Burl. I think I'll wait though and have breakfast with Amelia and Kathy after they wake up. See you in a minute." Charlotte smiled her mischievous smile at me.

When I returned I sat in the armchair. Yes, Charlotte was wearing the same light-colored leggings she had worn a couple days earlier. It must have been her habit to sleep in a nightgown and then change into comfortable leggings when she got up. I guess that's why she wasn't wearing underwear underneath her leggings. Who knows?

Anyway, of course I wanted to be able to look at her. I understood that I had seen her, all of her, that I had been inside of her, that I had filled her with fluid, and that she didn't know. But I still wanted to be able to look at her. Maybe I wanted to look at her more even because of all that.

She was lying on her back (supine!) facing me with her head propped on a cushion so I couldn't really stare. But after a bit she lifted her book a little higher so that it was in front of her face. Then I could look at her.

Yes, of course I looked there. What I noticed was the nice puffiness of her lips through the material. There was also a distinct wet spot between the two puffy lips. I knew this mean that she was still very wet inside. Wet from me.

---

I know. I mentioned the two additional nights. Some of that was the same. Like the way that I was able to do what I did -- yes hot chocolate once and then another kind of drink. And Charlotte had the same nightgown. But some of it was different. I emptied myself into Charlotte three nights in a row before she left.

It might be that what was different the second and third time would be interesting to hear about. I do remember those other two times as well. Although maybe not quite as clearly as the first time. But I did have the camera which helps me remember. But it's a different kind of memory. And it's hard to know whether it's something you really remember in your mind or whether you think you remember something because of what the camera records.

But I wanted to tell the complete story of Charlotte here, and I guess some of the story of me as well.

Charlotte was pregnant.

Yes, I know. That was a little abrupt. But since Charlotte went back home at the end of the week, after her visit in 1991, I don't know the exact details of what went on when she went back home.

I could speculate about what happened. Charlotte wondering about why her period was late. Taking a pregnancy test. Talking to her boyfriend, Bryce. Trying to decide what to do. Breaking the news to her parents.

Those are things that almost certainly happened even though I couldn't see any part of that and don't know the exact timing or order of events. Remember, Charlotte lived a two-day drive from where my wife and I live. And I can also speculate that the reason Charlotte was so wet when I was with her is that she was in the middle of her cycle. I read about that in the Sunday newspaper one time. There was an article about human fertility. It was an interesting read, but it wasn't exactly news -- sometimes on Sundays there are other kinds of stories, not just news.