Archive-name: Lynn.1
From: jfriday@helena.stat.uga.edu (Paul Stacy)
Subject: ARCHIVE: Lynn (part 1 only)
Newsgroups: alt.sex,alt.sex.stories
Path: think!bbn.com!mailrus!tut.cis.ohio-
state.edu!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!rpi!kohlt
From: kohlt@pawl.rpi.edu (Tim Kohl)
Newsgroups: alt.sex
Subject: Something different
Message-ID: <T11$-&|@rpi.edu>
Date: 24 Jul 90 04:47:51 GMT
References: <20.Jun.90.10:38:36.A1004E@UK.AC.EX>
<109.26aac658@blurt.oswego.edu>
Organization: Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy NY
Lynn
Love can be encountered in many places and times. Often we are
chosen without warning; snared in a tapestry of longing and
desire, we lose all sense of rational propriety and purpose.
January 11, 1966 - a cold winter evening in Northern Florida
found me waiting to board a bus to return to college in South
Carolina. The Jacksonville Greyhound bus station was packed with
students and holiday travelers. Among the younger set I noticed
a girl of my age, straight brown hair hanging down below her
shoulders. Holding a guitar case she fidgeted, politely acknowl-
edging last minute advice from the older couple that were obvi-
ously the parents. Tired from the monotony of the trip thus far,
watching her seemed to be a good diversion to relieve my mind
from the anxiety created by the delay on boarding. Finally a
northbound bus berthed, the door was opened and the scramble was
on to get a place. She hurriedly parted with her parents and
pushed forward into the crush of passengers and I lost sight of
her as I boarded.
Finding two seats unoccupied in the middle of the bus, I stopped
in the aisle to lift my bag into the overhead tray. As I turned
to take off my coat and settle into the seat, I was disconcerted
to find myself looking straight into her eyes and could only nod
when she asked me if she could sit beside me. I helped her stow
her parcels overhead and moved aside so that she could sit down
next to the window. Presently, loading complete the Greyhound
backed out of its berth and headed into the dark, lonely swamp-
land of southern Georgia.
Since midnight had passed some time ago, the passengers for the
most part settled into that restless sleep that mirrored the
chaotic jostling of the bus as it negotiated the gentle hills and
curves of US301. For my own part, I was exhausted, but I could
not find rest. The presence of the girl beside me generated a
wide range of emotions and physical discomfort. I had not much
experience with the opposite sex in this my 19th year of life. I
had kissed a couple of girls after dates, but being introverted
and somewhat sheltered, I did not have a frame of reference to
guide my actions. We spoke briefly in the darkness, she was
returning to school at Bob Jones University and was a junior,
majoring in Elementary Education. She seemed as tense as I and
conversation dwindled as the miles passed. After some time her
head drooped and as the occasional streetlight flashed past I
watched her face reflect the scenery of that world that is nei-
ther real nor fantasy. And enchanted by the transient visage of
that dream face, I ached for her - this girl I did not know.
Her name was Lynn. She was 5 ft 6 inches and lithe as the summer
gazelle. Dressed in an A-line skirt and blue mohair sweater, her
figure was accented but not revealed. In the dim light of a
rural Georgia night, I studied her as she slept; watching as the
she shifted positions in her seat, countering the thrashing of
that bus on its tortured, asphalt track. Yet, in all that ob-
servance I was unprepared for the lurch that deposited that
brunette's head on my shoulder. And I was even less prepared for
the arms that embraced me as she snuggled into a new scene in her
dream world. For the first time in my life I experienced desire,
desire that burned deep within and was manifested by a painful
engorgment of my maleness. I know not what broke that slender
thread of sleep, but when she became aware of our closeness, she
tilted her head up and kissed me. This was not the playful peck
of the teenage novice, but the soul-depth passion of a girl
becoming a woman - the deep interplay of tongue meaning "I want
to take you and I want you to take me." In that moment when I
first was awakened by that kiss, she reached down into my lap and
gently squeezed my hardness.
(To be continued ?)
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