Strawberry Creme Brulee

Part One: Seven Years Ago

"Another, sir?"

I looked up at the waitress with a smirk. "Sure, why not."

"Very good, sir. I'll be right back with that."

My eyes followed the slender young woman as she departed. I could not help but recall that meeting girls was one of the pretexts my friends had used to convince me to join their weekend ski trip.

I'd met some girls, sure; but the way I had embarrassed myself on the beginner slopes had left them far more amused than interested. Within a few hours, I was compelled to admit that it would take far more time than what was available to become good enough to enjoy myself. I felt like a quitter, but figured there was no point in wasting a second day after the first just for the sake of pride.

Thankful for possessing at least the foresight to bring my own car, I'd resolved to head for home as soon as I could inform one of my friends of my plans. Posting myself on the patio outside of the mountain lodge, I had thus waited for most of the afternoon, drinking Cokes instead of Coors, hoping to be able to depart any minute.

Originally, I had reasoned there was ample time to make the four-hour drive back to Denver and still be in my bed at a decent hour. Only half my weekend would be lost. I didn't get too many weekends off, and wasting one seemed nothing short of a crime.

As the shadows grew long, my eyes again found my watch. The afternoon was all but gone. Not for the first time, it occurred to me that I might simply leave and call my companions upon arriving home. With a firm nod, I slumped back into my chair, resolving to do just that after finishing my current drink.

Glancing about the almost deserted patio, my eyes wandered across an attractive blonde. My focus had traveled past her before I realized she happened to be looking my way. I reversed the motion of my head, returning to meet her gaze. At once, I upgraded her from attractive to gorgeous.

Out of my league

, I concluded and politely shifted my attention elsewhere, scouring the lower mountain for any sign of my companions.

Next thing I knew, the woman had stood; and began walking my direction. I looked around as casually as possible to see where else she might be headed. Most everyone was still on the slopes; there was not a soul near me.

"Jason?" she queried as she reached my table. "Jason Lupon?"

"Yeah," I answered, examining her face. She looked familiar, especially her deep green eyes, but I was drawing a blank. I was at a complete loss for a handful of seconds. Then I noticed that tiny mole below her right eye that her heavy makeup almost concealed. I had never been able to decide if that mark was her only flaw, or just the final punctuation mark on feminine perfection. She had matured quite a bit since I had seen her last. She had been a blazing redhead then, but I was still embarrassed I had failed to recognize her sooner; her of all people.

I leapt to my feet. "Tara?"

"Yes!" she squealed, helping herself to a chair. "How long has it been? Seven years, right?"

As I fell back into my seat, my thoughts drifted back those seven years to our senior year in high school. Some memories stay fresh in one's mind and such is my recollection of my first experience with Tara.

It was my first experience period, but I'd have remembered it anyway. It was one of those late spring days in the Dakotas, cold in the morning but pleasant by noon, the type of day where one might leave his jacket lying about; and I had done just that. In the process of locating my missing clothing, I had missed my bus, condemning myself to an hour-long walk home.

I had maybe made a quarter of the distance when a car passed me, and then pulled to an abrupt stop on the shoulder ahead. I recognized the beige Monte Carlo at once, mostly due to the big black letters in the rear window: F & T. It was Frank Morton's car. I was surprised a jock like him might bother to stop and give me a lift, but I was in no mood to stand there and ponder it; so I sprinted for the passenger side of the vehicle.

Opening the door, I leaned in to offer my thanks, but was greeted not by Frank's chiseled mug, but by Tara's radiant smile. She was so beautiful as to be stunning, her athletic figure accentuated by her snug green cheerleader's outfit. I stood there, appropriately bewildered, until she asked, "Well, you gonna just stand there or get in?"

Of course, I wasted no time taking my seat. "Thanks," I muttered, not even daring to look at her.

"No problem," she said, pulling back onto the asphalt.

We traveled a minute or two in silence before Tara asked, "You in any hurry?" Not waiting for an answer, she veered off the highway onto a county road.

"I, uh, guess not," I replied, not that it mattered since she had already turned.

"Good," Tara said. "You ever drive down this road?"

I never drive down anywhere

, I thought before answering simply, "No."

"The old school was down here," Tara noted, pulling onto what may have once been a road, but had since become at best just a weedy trail. After a hundred yards or so, she stopped just short of a barricaded railroad crossing, killed the ignition and reached for her door handle. "It burned down way before we were born, but you can still see the foundation. Come on."

Without waiting to even see my reaction, she bolted from the car and darted across the tracks into a small cluster of trees. I jogged after her like the innocent fool I was.

"Do you ever wonder what it was like here back then?" Tara asked upon my arrival, her eyes scanning the empty fields that surrounded the sparse copse. "Did our grandparents feel the same things we feel when they were young? Did they do the same things we do; or is it different now?"

"Uh, I don't know." I glanced around nervously, wondering if she was on some drugs or was about to make me the butt of some prank. "Guess I never really thought about it."

"Oh, I seem to have dropped something," Tara said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "Would you pick them up for me?"

I shifted my attention from our barren surroundings to find Tara standing, left hand on hip, her panties wrapped about her ankles. She stepped out with one foot and deftly lifted them off the ground with the other. She raised her eyebrows. "I said; would you pick them up for me!"

I was confused, but of course I did as the girl asked; or more like demanded. When I bent over, she lifted her skirt and shifted quickly so that my nose was mere inches from her rusty pubic patch. My eyes gravitated to the most beautiful thing a teenage boy could imagine, a perfect pink crease framed by a natural red pelt.

Without even thinking, I took a deep breath, getting a good whiff of her powerful scent. It was so much heavier, more primal, more bestial than I had anticipated. It was absolutely intoxicating. Unsure what action on my part was appropriate, I froze, my hand still reaching for her panties.

"You know that's cheerleader pussy?" Tara declared in a haughty tone. "Don't you think you ought to show some respect and get on your knees?"

Without a second thought, I did as she ordered. I felt like a whelp, and I was one; but the luckiest whelp in the world.

Tara leaned forward and brushed her fur against my nose. "Do you like my pussy?"

"Yes."

"You want to make it happy?"

Can this be for real?

I wondered. "Yes," I answered, to both questions.

"Yes, what?" Tara demanded.

"Yes, Goddess."

"Goddess?" Tara mused with a wry grin. "I like that. Are you ready to do as your goddess commands."

My dick was already a rock. I but prayed not to lose my load in my shorts. "Yes, Goddess," I announced, almost begged.

Tara grabbed my head and began to rub her muff against my face. "Lick me," she commanded

I pulsed my tongue in and out, much as a serpent might.

"C'mon, get your tongue out," Tara ordered. "Now! Farther."

I stuck my tongue out until it hurt and just held it there.

"That's better," Tara sighed, continuing to bump and grind on my face. The angle would have made it awkward for me to service her anyway, but my ignorance made it impossible. She didn't seem to mind, however, as I just held my tongue extended as instructed. Every once in a while I sensed a moistness and a pungency. Though I sought to locate the source, I was unable to do so.

After several minutes, she backed way. "Give me your jacket!"

I obeyed at once.

With some care, Tara spread my garment on one of the smoother patches of the old concrete. Upon my jacket she reclined, back to the ground, legs bent above her in a fetal position, feet pointed skyward. "Put your forearms here," she commanded, slapping the muscled backs of her thighs.

"Higher," Tara insisted as I complied with her prior instruction. "Up under my knees."

I moved my arms up into the crooks formed by her bent legs.

Tara smiled. "Good. Keep them there and fuck me with your tongue."

I hesitated, unsure exactly what she meant.

My goddess reprimanded my affront with a firm, "

Now

!"

I dove tongue-first into the cleft of her womanhood. Still having no clue what I was supposed to do, I simply licked everything. Soon I strayed across the source of the enticing flavor and focused my efforts there. Within seconds the folds of her crease parted and I found it!

"Yes," Tara cried as my tongue strayed across the depression that marked the outer limits of her passage. "There; put it there! Put it

in

there."

I did my best to tear my tongue lose from the back my mouth and shoot into her depths. My jaws soon got that ache one gets from blowing up too many balloons, but I cared not; this

was

cheerleader pussy and I was getting some!

"More!" Tara screamed. "Deeper!" She bucked and pushed against my weight, which still pinned her thighs to her chest. She said something else, but the rumble of a passing train obliterated her words. Grabbing my hair, she yanked my locks like the reins of some unbroken stallion. My face was crushed upon her womanhood. I could hardly breathe, but could think of no better way to die.

Several times Tara tensed, spraying a salty fluid onto my face, into my mouth, and under my chin. I didn't know for sure what was happening, but she could have been pissing on me and I would've loved it.

As the train receded into the distance, Tara yanked my face from its task. Flashing a sly grin, she bounced her eyebrows. "Are you ready to fuck your goddess now?"

"Yes," I begged. "Yes, Goddess, whatever you wish."

Tara rolled over and assumed an all-fours stance; then looked back over her shoulder. "Well?"

I threw my pants to the ground and tried to step out of them in the same motion, all but tripping in the process. I recovered; ditched my shoes and trousers, and then moved forward, kneeling behind her. Unsure what exactly I ought to do, I grabbed my cock and began to probe her snatch in ever widening circles. I guess I found the right spot, because suddenly she slammed backward and I was in. I sighed as her moistness enveloped my member, all but drawing me into her core.

How many times had I used my right hand and imagined it to be her pussy? Not just any pussy,

this

pussy! She was so warm and snug, so

much better than any hand, so much better that I had ever imagined; so much better than I ever could have imagined.

"Hello?" Tara interrupted my trance, still looking back over her shoulder. "Fuck me already."

The one piece of my father's sex talk rushed to, well, whatever part of the brain such things rush to at just the right moment. "You may not believe it now," Dad had said. "But eventually, son, you will be with a girl. When that happens, you're going to be timid. You're gonna be scared. You're gonna be uncertain. The one thing you must not be is

gentle

. Grab her and pump her hard. Bang her pussy like you mean to break it. Trust me on this one: you cannot, absolutely

cannot

, fuck a girl too hard."

Thanks, Dad,

I thought, and proceeded with as much force as I could muster; trying with deliberate thrusts to shove my cock all the way through her body.

"Oh," Tara gasped, and shuddered again. "Oh, that's not bad." She issued two rapid grunts before continuing in a much lower tone, "Not bad at all." Her head fell and she began to emit low, intermittent moans. Fool that I was, I wondered if I might be hurting her and lessened my thrusting.

"No!" My goddess admonished my miscue at once. "Faster!"

Resolving never to make that mistake again, I began to pound her with all my might, as if I sought to break her pelvis with each thrust. Her body bounced away with every such blow, but sprang right back for more.

After a handful of such strokes, Tara's moans turned to words, "Yes! Keep it up! But don't you dare cum yet!"

It was all I could do to pace myself and meet her constant demands for more action. Less than a minute later, Tara squeezed especially hard. Her body shuddered, then went rigid. Then a warm fluid raced up the underside my shaft to soak my scrotum.

Tara issued a heavy sigh and remained still. Unsure what had occurred, I paused as well. She looked back at me and flashed a subtle grin. Wiggling her ass, she whispered in the haughtiest tone, "Ok, you may now cum for your goddess."

Finally! I pumped her again, with renewed vigor.

Before I had managed a half-dozen of strokes, Tara climaxed again. "Harder!" she demanded the instant she recovered. "Fill me! Hurry; hurry!" To my surprise, it was she who now begged. Her body compressed again. While she was still in the midst of this third culmination, I slammed my cock into her as deep as I could and exploded. My eyes rolled in their sockets as my cock pulsed within her.

For a few precious moments afterward I rested there on my knees, panting, wondering if any dream could ever be so real, or if any reality could ever be such a dream.

"Wow," Tara sighed as her body sagged and we disengaged. She paused for a moment, then hopped to her feet. "Ok, on your back!"

I hesitated, not knowing for sure what she meant.

"Lie down," Tara insisted, back in command mode. I practically jumped on the ground, laying my head on the rough surface, no idea what she had in mind, but I was confident I would cherish whatever it was.

With an outward calmness, Tara rolled my pants and placed them beneath my head as a pillow. Then she knelt over my face. "Did you expect to leave your cum in a cheerleader's pussy? Clean me out; and hurry up about it. I'm already late." With that, she squatted, bringing her womanhood within range of my willing tongue.

Once again I strained my still-throbbing appendage, this time servicing my goddess from below, my flavor mixing with hers. I didn't know there was anything unusual about this arrangement and went about it with some relish; in the back of my mind hoping I might be securing myself some future action. Soon, however, all thoughts of hedonism flew from my head; replaced by the pure joy of hearing my goddess express her pleasure aloud.

"Oh, yes, more!" Tara moaned, as she came. She did not utter another word, but more primitive, universal sounds she continued to emit as she climaxed again; and again. My face was soaked, and a good part of my trouser cushion as well before she at last took a deep breath and relaxed.

Tara scooted back and sat on my chest, wiggling as she dried herself on my shirt. Looking down, she eased her tongue along the entire underside of her upper lip. Then she glanced over her shoulder at my already rejuvenated cock. With a smile, she looked back to me and bounced her eyebrows. "So, you think your grandfather ever licked your grandmother's pussy like that?"

I issued a mild chuckle as I tried to picture such an event. "Probably not," I said with a wide grin.

"He should have," Tara whispered. "She'd have been

very

grateful. Too bad I'm already late, or I'd make you fuck me again." She gave her ass a final wiggle leaving more of her scent upon my torso, as though she was marking me. "Now get your pants and let's go!"

Tara grabbed her panties and ran for the car. I picked up my trousers and my shoes and followed. Soon we were back on the highway. "Which way do you live?" she asked.

As I provided directions, I realized with some alarm that I had but a few minutes left with her, but no clue what else to say or do; besides get my pants back on. Still, I could not utter a word until my house came into view. "You really are a goddess," I finally ventured. "To me, anyway."

"That's sweet," Tara replied with a grin. "You're not a bad worshipper either. Maybe I'll pick you up again some day."

"Uh; thanks," I replied. "You're, uh, good too."

Tara just giggled a bit and smiled. "See you 'round," she said, as she pulled to a stop in my gravel driveway.

"You too," I replied.

I hit the front door of my house with some haste, anxious to clean myself; fairly certain my parents weren't nearly prudish enough to be unfamiliar with certain scents.

"Where have you been?" my mom called. "And whose car is that?"

"I forgot my jacket and missed the bus," I answered, hurrying down the hall to the washroom. "A friend gave me a ride."

As I rinsed my face, I abruptly stopped to stare at my reflection. With a sigh and a chuckle I realized my jacket was still lying somewhere amid the old school ruins by the railway grade.

* * * *

Part Two: Seven Minutes Later

"Hello?" Tara prompted, snapping me from the trance of my recollection.

"Oh," I muttered. "I was just thinking back. Seven years, huh? Seems longer."

"Were you thinking of anything special?" Tara asked with a wry grin that looked all too familiar. "An afternoon by the railroad tracks perhaps?" She shifted her gaze to my crotch.

Glancing down, I realized I had developed a massive erection that several layers of ski outfit were incapable of hiding. I instinctively sat up straighter and moved forward a bit, as if to use the table as a shield.

Tara giggled. "Don't be embarrassed. I still get moist when I think about it. No one had ever made me cum like you did." She leaned over the table. Looking directly into my eyes, she whispered, "

And no one has since

."

I squirmed. I wasn't eighteen anymore, but she already had me worried about shooting my shorts again. I was still trying to figure out how to respond when she changed the subject.

"So what do you do?"

"Oh, I'm a firefighter."

"Really, a fireman?"

"Uh, no," I corrected. "A fire

fighter

. A fireman is someone who works on a railroad engine."

"Oh, I, uh, didn't know," Tara muttered.

"It's ok," I responded, trying to smooth things over a bit. "Most people don't. I shouldn't worry about it. You?"

"Secretary," Tara answered, obviously not too proud of her occupation. "I move around a lot. Had an affair with one of my bosses once. Stupid. Seems every executive in town thinks I'm easy now."

Unsure how I ought to reply to such a revelation, I simply didn't. Instead, I glanced at her left hand; no ring. Tara traced my stare to her third finger, before shifting her focus to the same digit of my left hand. She then looked me square in the eye and smiled.

Well,

I thought.

Openings don't get any more obvious.

I pondered for a moment what might be a funny pick-up line, so that if I'd misread the signs, I could pass it off as a joke.

In that instant, Tara stiffened, sitting straight up. "Oh, shit! It's Mike."

"Mike who?" I asked, looking around. At once my eyes found a large fellow strolling straight toward our table.

"He's my boyfriend," Tara explained as I turned back to face her. "A defensive lineman for the Cowboys. Jealous and bad temper." She paused for just a moment, steering her eyes straight into mine. "You better go. I'll tell him some little nerd was hitting on me, and thank him for scaring you away. It'll be ok."