Message-ID: <17357eli$9811192019@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: annonymous_@webtv.net (annonymous) Subject: Fantasy Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 (WebTV) Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7Bit Content-Type: Text/Plain; Charset=US-ASCII X-WebTV-Signature: 1 ETAsAhRgl2strg+S1f35eEZDssgBDFHl0QIUZ7gNkHDylDenYaf3+9fXFt42JPQ= Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <23375-36459320-21@newsd-124.bryant.webtv.net> You'd bought the old Anderson house across the street from my family a few months ago. I'd see you around the neighborhood a few times, we'd smile and nod, I'd feel your eyes on my body. Surprisingly I found that gave me a warm feeling all over. I guessed you were closer to my dad's age than mine, but that too was a turn on. At night I'd run my hands along my bare skin, thinking they were your eyes, your hands, your tongue and lips. My hands would reach down between my legs and you'd bring me pleasure. One Saturday morning I saw you working on your yard. Home alone, an idea comes to me, an opportunity to get closer to you, to meet you, to talk to you. Just thinking about it excites me. I'd not really meant to do it, just a fantasy. But somehow it takes over, and without meaning to, I begin to cross the street and approach you. You seem pleased to see me this morning, we smile and say hello. I explain that I'm collecting funds for our church group and request a donation. You gladly offer to write a check. Would I mind stepping inside the house so you can write me a check? Inside we settle into a comfortable conversation, and I feel at once relaxed in this setting, trusting, secure with a man I don't really know, but who seems like an old friend. Sitting across from you, we talk about school, likes and dislikes. I'm aware that your eyes caress me, my body welcoming your glance. You explain that you've remodeled the basement into an "activity room" and ask if I'd like a look. Taking me by my hand, helping me to stand, we walk across the room, my hand in yours while your other hand gently rest on my shoulder, gently touching, massaging. Completely at ease in your presence, you remove your hand from my shoulder and open the door to the basement. Walking down the steps I'm at first surprised at the difference. While the upstairs is completely modern, the basement has a very rustic look. Almost medeival. annonymous -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----