Allie

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Not a little girl anymore.
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Inspired by a remark from my 'little sister'.

My grateful thanks to evanslily for her time and patience, and her editing skills. As always, the good stuff is due to her, the mistakes are mine.

ALLIE

The Piccadilly line in the middle of the morning is hardly the Road to Damascus, and yet the premonition that morning was no less apocalyptic in my life. The advertisement was for Help The Aged, the picture, a sprightly-looking older lady, but it was the wording that caught my attention:

Remember Alison, she's still an incredible person.

At the time, I didn't realise the importance of the message.

A fifty-four year old widower, I'd been alone for six years since Sally-Ann died. The children had been a big comfort, but I couldn't impose on them -- they had their own lives and families to think about. I hid my loneliness by throwing myself into work, starting early and finishing late. That way I didn't have to spend much time at home.

I'd been with the company since I left college, starting as a process chemist monitoring the production of food additives and eventually promoted to quality control manager -- where I stayed. I wasn't ambitious; as long as we had the money to do what we wanted, Sally-Ann and I had been satisfied. Of course, without her I didn't want to do much.

My monthly visits to Head Office were a penalty of my job. A meeting with the senior managers that could probably have been done by a conference telephone call; they preferred to make me take the two and a half hour journey into London and then out to the west of the capital to the sprawling offices of our parent company. It was on my way to this meeting I had the prescient experience on the Tube.

As I made my way to the male toilets before I started my meeting, I walked down the plush corridor between the fancy offices of the executives, mentally comparing my own 'broom cupboard', and idly reading the name plates on the doors. It was only whilst I was washing my hands that the name "Allie Stevenson" triggered a memory of a little blonde-haired girl, Alison; it was an odd coincidence.

Her brothers had been playmates and school friends of mine, living in the next road to my family. My older brother and I had spent many hours in their house and they in ours. Allie, being eight years younger, had been the nuisance we had to put up with; pubescent boys rarely want anything to do with little girls, being far more interested in the older ones. Our families had drifted apart as we four boys grew up and left home to go to university and, in the case of Allie's eldest brother, the Army.

On my way back I did something completely alien to me and knocked on the door. To this day I have no idea why I did it; my usual response would have been to keep a very low profile and dash past in case she saw me. I can only blame that advertisement.

"Come in," said a faint voice within.

Already regretting my rash action, I opened the door. Inside an attractive blonde woman in her mid-forties was sitting behind a tidy desk and working on a laptop computer off to one side.

She looked at me inquiringly. "Yes?"

"Allie?" I asked timidly.

"Yes?" She sounded irritated, obviously annoyed by the interruption.

"Allie Stevenson?" I felt tongue-tied. Now I was in the office I had no idea what to say.

"That's what it says on the door. Who are you -- and what do you want?

"I'm -- er -- Jerry Jones."

"And?" she snapped.

I lost my nerve. "I'm sorry, I made a mistake," I said hastily, turning away and reaching for the door handle.

As I began to close the door she called out. "Wait!"

"Yes?" I looked back nervously.

"Jerry Jones?" She was frowning now. "Who used to live in Grove Avenue?"

I stood holding the half open door, hopeful now. "Yes."

"You owe me an apology."

I was stunned into silence. I couldn't imagine what she was talking about.

Suddenly, she smiled. "You used to pull my pigtails."

That smile changed the whole atmosphere. "Guilty as charged," I admitted with a laugh. "Can you ever forgive me?"

Still smiling, Allie rose and walked around the desk to shake my hand. "I'll think about it."

We chatted briefly before I remembered my meeting. She insisted I return for coffee and a longer talk, which lasted so long we eventually went to the canteen for lunch together.

She told me about her brothers, James who joined the Army as a career officer, now a captain, and Paul who took a fine arts degree and worked in a London auctioneers. She was divorced with two children who were now sixteen and twelve.

I told her of my own very happy marriage, ended by cervical cancer and my two great daughters, Emma and Jane, now both happily married mothers. Our conversation had been so easy, so warm, by the time I left I was actually looking forward to my next visit.

I didn't have to wait for my next visit; Allie rang me the following week. We enjoyed our conversation sufficiently to make it a weekly event.

By the time I made my next visit to Head Office, we were getting along very well, well enough for me to summon up the courage to ask her to dinner. I was rewarded for my daring with a cheerful acceptance for the following Saturday.

She told me the name of an Italian restaurant she liked, and I booked a room in a small hotel close by -- I wasn't about to try getting back late from London on a Saturday.

The meal was a great success, we talked again, reliving our childhood years, and she admitted, hesitantly, to a schoolgirl crush on me. To my regret, I could only remember trying to avoid her as much as possible.

I confess I had some difficulty listening to her. It had been a while since I'd had anything but innocent thoughts about a woman but Allie was looking very good. She had what I've heard described as a full figure, some might say plump. I can only call it sexy as hell. I'd never had much time for skinny women, Sally-Ann was no waif, and Allie was the most attractive woman I'd seen in a long time. The décolletage on her dress that evening showed enough bare skin and cleavage to entice my eyes from her very pretty face more often than was gentlemanly.

By the end of the meal, she looked quite flushed. "I think I've had more wine than I should have. I'll have to get a cab home."

I'd certainly had enough wine to make me courageous. "Don't go home."

She looked at me for a moment before replying. "Alright then JJ. Where shall we go?"

"I have a hotel room nearby." I was feeling reckless now.

"Let's go before I change my mind. I feel like living dangerously tonight."

I had a flash of guilt. "Maybe this isn't a good idea. I don't want to take advantage of you because you've had too much to drink."

"Don't worry, JJ. I'm not too drunk to know what I'm doing."

"What about your children?"

"They're old enough to look after themselves for tonight."

I paid the bill quickly and we walked back to my hotel. Rock hard with anticipation, I had difficulty climbing the stairs. When the door clicked shut behind us, I turned her to face me, stroked the hair back from her face and, looking into a pair of soft blue eyes, kissed her gently on the lips.

She kissed me back and then as I licked at her lips, her mouth opened and her tongue sought mine in a passionate duel. She tasted delicious, like honey and mulled wine. Eventually I broke away; I wanted to taste the soft skin of her neck and shoulders. I gently nibbled and kissed her throat enjoying the soft purring noises she was making. My hands roamed across her body, a soft warm feminine body, a body that would comfort me, arouse in me feelings of lust that I had missed for so long.

I was torn, I didn't want to go too fast and scare her and yet I had an insatiable desire to feel that body against mine, her skin touching my skin. I needed to feel those fantastic full breasts in my hand, to taste them, to smell the intoxicating scent of her. I found the zip fastener at the back of the dress and slid it to her waist. My hands explored the exposed flesh greedily, pausing only to release the clips of her bra.

Her hands were equally busy, pushing my jacket from my shoulders, removing my tie and unbuttoning my shirt. She stroked my chest and sighed loudly as I kissed along her jaw, back to her mouth. Our lips pressed together with such force I felt sure that they would feel bruised later.

I pulled her dress and bra from her shoulders and let both drop to the floor. She gave up trying to unbutton my shirt and actually ripped the last few buttons apart so that she could plaster her body against mine. There was nothing in the world that was going to stop me taking her now; I wanted her, I needed her. I dragged the shirt from my arms and threw it behind me. As I reached to undo my trousers, her hands were there first. I managed to kick off my shoes and socks before she pulled my trousers and pants down, stepping out of them I pushed her back to the bed. As she lay back, I took hold of her tights and pants pulling them off her.

Smelling the heady perfume of her arousal, I couldn't imagine how my cock could get any harder. I climbed onto the bed beside her, captivated by the vision of her lying naked; Reubens had never painted anything half as beautiful. I could so easily imagine myself in love with this woman. Her breasts lay like warm erotic pillows, I had to touch them, feel them; my fingers sought the erect nipples and teased them, rolling and pulling them, gently drawing soft moans from her.

My lips and teeth followed my fingers, sucking and nibbling. My tongue tasted the silky smooth skin, my hands felt the soft pliant flesh, moulding it. Her fingers were gripping my shoulders, I felt her nails digging in, her moans and cries becoming louder.

I moved down her body, across the smooth plateau of her stomach to her abdomen where I teased at her navel with my tongue, to be rewarded by a mewing noise that seemed to indicate her enjoyment. At last I reached the soft fur at the apex of her thighs, her seductive perfume filling my nostrils, pulling me in like a Siren. I worshipped her thighs, forcing myself to wait for the final delicious pleasure. The skin on the inside of her legs was even smoother and softer. I loved kissing and licking at it and Allie seemed to love it too.

At last she spoke, "Oh God, JJ please, don't tease any more."

My mouth captured her, my lips sucking at her labia, my tongue lapping at the hot salty slit. I licked the full length of her vulva, from her anus up to her clitoris, stopping just before the hard little button. I repeated the long strokes of my tongue, forcing soft cries from her. At last I pressed my tongue hard against the tight nub and she screamed into the pillow she'd pulled over her face.

I slid my body over hers, feeling my cock slip into the hot wet honey pot between her legs, my mouth recapturing hers. She didn't seem to object to tasting herself on my lips and tongue. I thrust into her with long slow strokes; her hands reached round desperately trying to pull me hard against herself.

"That feels so good," she murmured into my ear. "Fuck me darling."

Raising my head, I smiled. "Allie you're so beautiful, you feel so perfect. I couldn't ever have enough of you."

She smiled back. "I bet you say that to all your women."

When I told her she was the first in six years, her eyes opened wider in surprise.

I began to move faster and her eyes closed. I could feel her muscles gripping my cock as it slid into her. "I can't hold on any longer," I warned.

"Come, come for me," she urged.

The hot seed spurted from me into her womb. I hadn't felt so alive in a very long time. Looking into her eyes and seeing a broad smile on her face, I rolled to one side and took her in my arms, enjoying the soft warmth of her.

"That was incredible," I said. "You're incredible."

"Not yet lover -- but I will be." She grinned up at me. "Do you think you can be that incredible every time?"

"Oh, I can be better with practice."

I was looking forward to finding out how incredible Alison could be.

©2008 Tory del Ricoh E.T.M.A.S.

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  • COMMENTS
3 Comments
CAP811CAP811over 15 years ago
not bad

Well written, a nice phrase or two (breasts like erotic pillows isn't half bad). Now give us a plot twist; so far the story has been rather too predictable.

evanslilyevanslilyabout 16 years ago
Well...

To quote you,

You already know I like it... :-)

Great short story well told. Now hurry up with the next one!

AnonymousAnonymousabout 16 years ago
short and sweet....

in this case, love is better the second time around. thanks for the great read!

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