Message-ID: <19302eli$9901240426@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Robert Kraft Subject: (ASSM){RobertKraft}"RightTurnOnBlack Chapter4: Purple Portrait" ((m/f), fp, rom, voy) [Part 1/2] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii 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: <19990123173109.27903.rocketmail@send304.yahoomail.com> WARNING: These stories contain graphic language, sexual actions between M/F and F/F, as well as violence, illegal substance abuse, immorality, and illegal activity. If any of the above offend you, please do not read this story. All stories are copyright. These stories are two parts fact, one part fiction. Some names and places have been changed, and a few events are slightly different (usually cause I don't remember exact words spoken), but everything is pretty close to the real situation I experienced. If you recognize yourself in this story though, it isn't you! Please forward comments/requests to: RKraft99@yahoo.com AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is my favorite of the first four. It was my first powerful sexual experience, and many of the images are etched deeply in my mind even after many years. This was written immediately after I wrote chapter 3, about three years ago. Unlike chapter 3, though, I hardly needed to edit this one. Hope you enjoy, and as always, please e-mail comments to me; they are much appreciated. Right Turn on Black by Robert Kraft Chapter 4: Purple Portrait - Part 1 (of 2) Thankfully it is warm, I thought to myself, as I hefted my backpack and stepped out into the night. I was leaving behind the loud laughing and discussion that was one of my parent's gatherings of friends. The wine had been flowing for a few hours now, and politics, food, and business were being dissected at the table. Everyone spoke at once, it seemed, and I didn't think anyone was listening to anyone else, only delivering his or her self-important monologue. The golden light of the dining room shining through the large window only lit my path half the way to the road, so soon darkness engulfed me and only some feeble star glow showed me the way. I'd had some wine myself, and was feeling a little happy from it, but I was glad to leave the commotion behind for some peace. I had been agitated all day, anticipating my meeting with Michelle. The wine had released some tension, at least, so I was not going crazy. It was early, ten after seven when I set out. I figured about thirty-something minutes to walk there, putting me at her front door at three-fourths of the hour. Then I'd probably hang out until it was a little closer to the time we were meeting at; I didn't want to interrupt dinner. I had, of course, left early to avoid being dragged into some discussion with my parent's lively friends. At least I could walk at a leisurely pace given the heat spell we were going through. Although it wasn't that warm: a heat spell in a New England November means it is not freezing at night. The walk from my house to hers is hilly, so when I arrived at seven-thirty I was breaking a sweat. It was earlier than I had figured, though; I had walked faster than I thought I would. There was no car in the drive, but it could have been in the garage. I suddenly felt weird about just sitting on her steps for a half-hour, what if they saw me? There was nothing else for it, though, so I sat down and looked around. About ten minutes later I was freezing my ass off. Maybe it isn't as warm as I thought. The numbing effect of the wine was starting to wear off, and I figured that the sweat had made me chilled. I needed to get inside before I died of something. I peeked into the living room window. It was nicely furnished, with dark wood and thick couches. The kitchen appeared to be through one door and the dining room through another. Except for a table lamp in the living room giving some ambient light, everything else was dark. At least they aren't eating dinner, I thought, unless they eat somewhere else in the house. I decided to ring the doorbell. About thirty seconds later there was no change in my situation. I started to wonder if they weren't home. I rang the doorbell again. Shit, now I'm really gonna freeze. Maybe they went out to eat and they won't be back until eight. Fuck. Nothing. I walked around to the back of the house trying to look as unsuspicious as possible. There was a light on in a second floor window! I hope that they didn't just leave it on, I thought as I ran back around to the front. I gave the bell another push, and then gave a hearty knock with my fist. Nothing. Nothing. And then, I heard something, maybe steps? Indeed, a few seconds later I saw Michelle peek out from the living room window, and then disappear. The door opened, and Michelle was hiding behind the door, showing only her face. Her dark hair was raised up in a clip, and I looked at it for a moment. Is she naked, or something? I thought. "Hey Rob! You're early!" "Yeah, I had to leave my house. How are you?" "Good, actually, I was just getting into the shower. Come in!" How about I join you? I thought. "I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to get here so early." I walked into the living room. She closed the door, and stood there in just her glasses. Oh, and a white towel too, wrapped around her body from just above her breasts to about five inches below her ass. Damn, she didn't look too bad. She had slipped on a pair of white sneakers, folding down the heel of them. "Sorry I'm like naked here, but I was just about to get in." "No problem," I remarked, commenting mostly on the first part of her phrase. I avoided looking at her body directly. I wondered if I should kiss her, but what if her parents walked out right then and saw a complete stranger kissing their half-naked daughter in their own living room. "Do you mind if I just jump in anyway? I was out running so I feel all gross." "No, that's fine. I'll just hang out." "O.K. You can wait in my room," she said cheerily as she turned and led the way. I was able to look at her openly now. Her legs were, after all my previous speculation, fairly nice. They were a bit tanned, and smoothly colored. Her legs were toned from running, and her muscles flexed as she walked. Her sneakers were a turn-on; somehow their pale whiteness set off her skin tone appreciatively. Her towel-covered butt was round and curvy, complementing her thin waist. Wow, her neck was beautiful! Graceful, long but not too long, and it made a perfect shape with her shoulders. Her skin, I noticed, was very smooth and evenly colored. I wanted to reach out and caress her shoulder, but I thought that would be completely uncalled for. She walked into a hallway and started up the dark steps. Jesus, I thought, I might see right up her towel. Maybe she was putting on a show. "My parents aren't home," she commented. "They didn't want leftovers, so they went out with friends." "Did they leave you to eat them then?" I followed her up, looking at her legs. "Yeah. I already ate, did you?" I looked hard, but it was to dark to make anything significant out. "Yeah. We eat early at my house." Her towel was teasing me, pulling up with each of her steps, but not far enough to see anything besides some more leg. "What did you have?" she asked. But it was still a pleasing view. I took a few steps two at a time and was only a few behind her now. "Some pasta and then some barbecue." I wished to reach out and touch that ass, rip that towel off and kiss the small of her back. "That's better than what I had." And then run my hands all over her smooth body. "What's that?" I asked, rather distracted at this point. She reached the top, and turned down the hall. "Some left over casserole. It wasn't that bad. Here, this is my room. It's a bit messy, but just have a seat wherever. You can even start working if you want, I won't mind if you start translating without me!" "Yeah, right. I can't wait to start," I said sarcastically. I thought about grabbing her and kissing her, but I wussed out. "I'll be right out," she said, walking into the bathroom and shutting the door. I entered her room. It was very clean, despite what she had said. There was a nice desk, which did have some clutter, but at least there was some surface showing, something that could not be said about my desk. Except perhaps on the first day I got it. Her bed had a flowered spread on it, and was actually made up. Another event never witnessed in my room. There were several posters of mountains, horses, and other outdoor scenes. I figured some were of Colorado, her home state. A dresser and bookshelf filled out the rest of her room. I wonder what she's doing right now, I thought, as I put my bag down on the floor and dug out my books. I sat on the edge of her bed, ready to wait out the ten minutes it would probably be until she was out of her shower. The water hadn't started yet. In the course of looking around the room some more I made a sudden discovery, the implications of which were both exciting and dangerous. I got up to get a closer look, and sure enough, the doorknobs were of the old style with a skeleton-type keyhole. With the reckless part of me hoping yes and the modest part hoping no, I bent down and looked through the keyhole in her bed room door. It went clear through to the other side. I passed my hand behind the door to confirm this. I got up, and felt torn. Should I try it? What if I'm bent down looking and she opens the door. Jeez, that would suck like hell. But then, I might see her in time to get up and pop into her room. It is only diagonally across the hall; a short enough distance to get back quickly. The hardest part of peeping is making your approach. That is the only time when you do not know where the person is. Once you have them in your sights, at least you can anticipate being caught. But until then, it is like you are blind. I sat on the bed again, for a moment, trying to decide what to do. My libido was raging. Here was a good opportunity to see something, but then again, I really liked Michelle, and it might make me feel weird to see her like that. Ah, fuck it, who gives a shit. My scoundrel half won out. If I got caught, I'd deal with it then. And my conscience? What's that, I thought. I stepped cautiously out into the hallway. Still no water. Hmmmm… The moment of truth. I listened closely: there was something, what was it? The sound of hair brushing, of course. Fortunately the hall was covered in a carpet; no wood floors to creak. Suddenly I heard water, and it scared me for a second. It was the sink though. Then I heard the steady sound of water hitting a sink basin change into the variable bubble of water hitting hands. Now! I thought. She can't open the door if she's washing her hands. I bent over. I approached the keyhole. There was light coming through, to my great delight (and dismay, if you asked my conscience). I angled my head to avoid the doorknob. I pushed my eye close to the peephole. I let out a sigh of relief, for two reasons: the bathroom was huge, and Michelle was still in her towel. Holy shit, I almost said aloud, teeming with excitement. The shower was the upright type, with a translucent etched-glass door! O.K., leave now, and you will not have done anything bad, screamed my conscience. Shut the fuck up, I told it. The bathroom was long. On the right, a closet of some sort formed the edge of my view. Then followed the bathroom counter, in which were two sinks. Her clothes lay on part of the counter. Finally there was a toilet in the right-hand corner. Along the left-hand wall were a few towel racks, a hamper, a small cupboard with hand towels on it, and then in the corner was the shower. Michelle was rinsing her hands off at the farther of the two sinks. My dick was really starting to grow, watching her ass shake a bit as she vigorously rubbed her fingers. She turned the water off, and suddenly was heading for the door! I jumped up, trying to keep quiet, and popped back into her room, and grabbed up my book, pretending to look studious. Nothing. I got up again. I was really going crazy inside, a mix of nervousness, anxiety, excitement, horniness, and fright coursing through my blood like millions of bugs creeping. I cautiously crept into the hallway, and bent down, peeping through the hole again. Michelle was drying her hands on a towel hanging from the rack somewhat near the door. Of course, that's what she was going for, I thought. She finished drying and turned towards the shower. I pushed up against the door, even though I could already see her from head to toe. She reached in and turned on the water. Damn, does she shower with that fuckin' towel on? I thought impatiently. As if hearing me, she suddenly reached under her left arm and grasped the towel, tugging it free. The towel began to fall away. I was freaking out. I almost got up and left, but my conscience's last minute attack on my senses was fended off and I stayed to watch… "What do you think this word means?" she asked. "Say what?" I said, suddenly coming back to earth. "This word here." "Oh, right, let's see…" "Are you alright?" "Yeah, just distracted, that's all." I was indeed. "Well, we're almost done." "I know," I said, although I didn't really know. So far she had done most of the work. I looked at my watch: it was about a quarter after nine. "We made pretty good time." "Yeah, but we aren't done yet." "Right. Where were we again?" "Last paragraph," she said with a laugh. We continued our translation, and I made it a point to stop thinking about what I had seen earlier. Somehow I was successful, and I got back into the Latin work, albeit grudgingly. "Great, that does it," she said, as she wrote the last sentence onto our final sheet. She had written out our clean copy, because my penmanship is worthless. I sat on her bed, looking at her. She was bent over the desk, scripting the remaining words onto a sheet of paper. Her dark green T-shirt was short enough that I could see the small of her back. I could make out the back strap of her bra through the shirt. It was not showing, but I already knew it was black. Her dark blue jeans fit her well; they were loose fitting, but still gave her hips a nice, round shape. I couldn't see them either, but I knew she had black panties on. It felt strange to see her this way. "O.K., we are done!" she proclaimed, turning in her chair and holding up the sheet proudly. "Ms. Maiori will have to be pleased." "Yeah, for sure." "So," she said, placing the page into her notebook neatly, "what time are you being picked up?" "Ah, well, I actually walked here." "Really? You could've called, I would have had my parents come get you!" She came over and sat on her bed next to me. "Nah, it's a nice walk, really it is." "Alright. Do you need to go now?" "No, I don't have to, if that's okay with you." I longed for something besides Latin words from her mouth. "Well, my parents can give you a ride when they get back. They won't be back until a bit later though. Their friends live about half-hour away." "What time do you think?" "Maybe ten-thirty or so." I looked at my watch. Nine forty-five. "Yeah, that's fine, as long as I'm home by eleven." I couldn't hold out any longer, so I leaned over and kissed her on the lips, firmly. She kissed back, thankfully. When she had gotten out of the bathroom, we had gotten straight to work, and I was in anticipation of this for almost two hours now. "Mmmm, I forgot how good it feels," she said, pulling away a bit. I looked into her eyes. "Yeah, yesterday seems like yesteryear." We kissed again. Michelle reached around and gave me a squeeze. "Wait," she said, suddenly, pushing away. Damn, I thought, what's wrong. She got up bouncily and turned on a purple lava lamp that was on the windowsill by the head of her bed. She then switched the overhead light off and closed the door to her room. The lighting was immediately more appealing. The glow from the lamp was dim, like neon from a distance: just enough light to make out shapes, but not enough to see any detail. I wondered what would happen here tonight. "Much better!" she said, and hopped back onto the bed next to me. "Yeah, that's nice." I pulled her close in, and we kissed, closed-mouth at first, and then I pushed my tongue into her lips. They parted and soon we were deep into a make-out session. Her warm, wet tongue was all over mine; after a few minutes my jaw was starting to get a bit sore. It was dark, so I closed my eyes, and concentrated fully on the feelings flowing through me. At some point, Michelle pulled me backward onto the bed. We lay sideways, continuing our petting. Our bed-side hands were clasped together between us by our waists; with my free hand I was massaging her back and shoulders; she was rubbing my hair with hers. Our breathing grew heavy, and I was unsure what was supposed to happen next. Or, rather, I knew what should happen, but I was not sure if I should be the one to start it. Her parents could be returning unexpectedly early. For all I knew, they could be watching us now. But I figured Michelle would know when they came back. Michelle's hand crept down my neck, onto my back, and around to my chest. I was tingling with the combination of her touch and the anxiety of whether to follow her lead. Her hand began to travel down my chest, tracing a line over my ribs, and then across my belly button. I was really tense now. Where would that hand end up? I was really nervous about the possibilities. She reached my jeans, and fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on point of view) she reached up under my shirt and put her hand against my stomach, and began making a return trip up my body. It felt incredible. I wondered if she had ever been with any other guys before. All the while kissing heavily, I worked my hand down her back, deciding to keep my movements tame, at least for the moment. Besides, when it comes to chests, a girl has more to offer than a guy does, so I had to go easy. I traced her spine through her shirt, feeling each delicate bone under her skin. It was a strange feeling to be kissing so passionately and wildly while touching each other so delicately; and all the while our other hands were tightly gripped together, alternately squeezing and easing as the waves of tension built suddenly and subsided lingeringly within us. She had reached my breast, and was massaging my upper chest lightly, as if exploring unknown territory. Her hand passed over my nipples, sending a chill through my spine. I reached the end of her shirt, just where jeans took over. Fork in the road: to continue down would lead to her butt, which would be interesting. To return upwards would show me her back again. I had a longing to feel her skin ever since I walked in the front door though, so I gingerly pulled her shirt up a bit and slid my hand onto her lower back. It felt as smooth as it had looked, like flexible, warm ice. I pulled her a little closer, and slowly began massaging the small of her back. I felt Michelle arch back just a little and I took that as a pleasing gesture, so I worked on it a little more. Damn, I was turned on! If it were possible to cum without movement on my dick, I would have done so already. And we were hardly doing anything at that. Michelle was still working on my chest with her hand. Her mouth strayed away from mine suddenly, her lips dragging against my cheek, and then jaw, finally landing on my neck. She kissed me gently there. Not only am I very ticklish, but also extremely sensitive in certain areas, my neck definitely being one of them. Jets of feeling shot through my body like tidal waves as she let each kiss pass into history. I realized after a time that I had stopped moving my hand, so I began my slow massage again. I tensed my legs, stretching them out, and arching back my head. Michelle leaned in further and explored more of my neck. I decided the time was ripe for a small change in direction, so I brought my hand around from her back, passing through the valley of her waist, and reaching her tummy. Jesus, her skin is so goddamn smooth! I thought in the midst of my ecstasy. Michelle was really digging into my neck now, using her teeth for gentle nibbles. I wiggled a finger in her belly button briefly, and then began to caress her stomach in circles. "Mmmmmhhh…" I heard her let out during one long kiss on my neck. I continued my small circular motions, and moved up ever so slightly with each revolution. I wondered if Michelle was feeling as good as I was. It seemed like it, from her movements, but I sure was no expert at this. Michelle came back to my mouth, and I pressed my tongue deep into her. My hand continued its circles. At some point, I felt something besides skin, and it took a few seconds to realize it was her bra. Holy shit, I thought, I'm really doing this. I can't believe it. END OF PART 1 - Look for part 2 separately Copyright 1999 by Robert Kraft -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----