The Girl From Magway

I met her the summer I visited Burma, and she came to me as if from a dream. Long, jet-black, flowing hair that was tousled into a loose ponytail. Gently eyelined almond shaped eyes. A kind, innocent sort of smile that puts you at ease. A lilac, floral print, off-the-shoulder crop top that revealed her flat, olive-colored stomach and the feminine curve to her hips. Sky-blue jean shorts, frayed and braided on the end. Long, slender, smooth, elegant legs, ending in a pair of flip flops and a set of adorable, well maintained toes. Oh, the way she looked at me! Like a secret she wanted to keep close. And I never even got her name.

Her job was to keep others company, and the first time I saw her, she was just finishing up with another client. There wasn't any sign of private behavior, but it was clear that he was in the middle of paying for her services. He fumbled through his billfold, eventually pulling out a mixture of local and foreign currency. She frowned, her delicate, burgundy lip pouting, and for a reason I will never understand, she looked at me for help. Those deep coffee eyes asked me a wordless question, pleading. I stepped in, and without thinking I stupidly muscled the guy into paying her properly. He didn't have enough, so I gave what he did to the girl and tossed him out.

I went to offer my apologies to her, but when I turned, I felt her wrap her arms around me, embracing me. Her warm smile pressing into my chest. Her silky hair, smelling of lime blossom and sandalwood, obscuring my view of the dingy room. I held her, a precious sapphire among the decay, pressing her into me. She playfully bit my chest, and looked up with a curious smile. I knew then that I needed her.

I kissed those beautiful lips, my hand drifting up, playing with her hair, the other hugging around her smooth, bare waist. Her eyes fluttered closed, and I felt her relax in my arms, her own hands sliding up inside my shirt, exploring. I picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around my hips as I carried her to the back, where a woven mat waited on the floor. There, she pulled my shirt off, before lifting her top over her breasts, the shapely, firm mounds accentuating every breath as she drew a line down my chest to the button of my pants. As soon as mine were off, I tugged her shorts up and off of her cute butt, not bothering with the button, her legs skyward. And there, with my swollen member at the entrance to her beautiful womanhood, I kissed her again, our tongues swirling together, and plunged into bliss.

With every thrust, she gave a little yelp of pleasure, and she dug her nails into my back. Her surprisingly strong legs pulled me in deeper, grinding her hips against mine. She was so lightweight, I found myself holding her by the waist, lifted off the mat as she clung to me, her breasts getting tossed by the force of our impact. Her sweet face, turned flush from passion, bit my cheek, and I swear I saw the barest hint of a tender smile.

I laid her on the mat, holding a toned leg in each hand, and shoved my cock in to the hilt. She writhed from the feeling of my rod pushing the limits of her hole, but I slammed it in again and again, with only the sounds of her wet need and her desperate whimpers. They were growing louder, a slow crescendo. Suddenly she siezed, her snatch clamping down on my cock, her back arching, her breasts the peak of a beautiful mountain of woman. The convulsions around my shaft were too much. I let out a yell, head back, as I jammed the whole thing in her and unloaded every bit of cum I had, that I could ever have, directly into the womb of this elegant, enchanting, shrieking girl. I collapsed next to her, and we held each other, naked, in this dirty house, on the woven mat, and quickly fell asleep.

When I woke up she was already gone. I groggily looked around, but all I found were the dank, empty walls of the shack. All the money in my wallet was gone. My heart sank. When I returned to the mat, I found that where she used to be now sat a neatly folded pair of panties. I picked them up. Heavily perfumed, they smelled of lime blossoms and sandalwood, but also the saltiness of her sweat and her sweet, musky juices.

I never found her again, no matter how hard I looked. I know that she didn't want to be found, and for reasons I'll never be sure. But I like to think that, somewhere in Burma, is a sweet, beautiful girl with a kind, caressing smile, and she'll look into the sky and think of me, with an innocent, bright-eyed child on her hip.