Date: Wed, 18 Jan 2012 08:51:59 -0500
From: Barry Gold <barry.gold69@gmail.com>
Subject: Stollin

Sarah & Allison
Strollin'

by

Donal

krazydog@juno.com

Strollin'



Foreword:

A little fun, a little sex, and hopefully, the result is Tonno alla
palermitana: a Maggiano specialty.

-Donal


Hello, my name is Sarah and I love walking with Allison. She is my friend
and lover.

We are, what some would call, a textbook case of
love-at-first-sight. Allison fell for me one morning when I jogged by her
house, even though she didn't know who I was. One day I was walking home
from school after cheerleading practice and, on a whim, stopped to watch
the soccer team of a nearby high school play. A willowy, blonde forward
caught my eye and I felt an unfamiliar twinge. When she came off the field,
she introduced herself. Later, Allison asked me to walk home with her.

When she told me where she lived, I offered her the use of my shower. I
just didn't want to let this vision out of my sight yet. It was much later
when I found out that Allison had recognized me as the jogger past her
window when she saw me on the sideline. I walked her home, which was just
around the corner, and Mother Nature took over.

Mother Nature took over and ran us down. It was a little rough for
awhile. I lost my boyfriend because I'd had the temerity to associate with
one of "them", even for a little while. Other "friends" said vile, nasty
things to me. One was so bad that I was speechless for more than a
day. Other people approached me, curious. There were good days and bad
days. Allison and I grew even closer.

Allison walked to bleed off excess energy after practices and games. At
first, I was a reluctant participant. We were in the beginning stages of
our sex life, so it wasn't a consistent way for her to calm down yet.

* * *

We were alone at my house one afternoon. It was early in our relationship
and we were still figuring out how things worked. We had just finished
lunch and were cleaning up. It was my turn to wash, so Allison dried and
put the dishes away. Mom had told me that morning to be sure to do the
laundry before she and Dad got home. We didn't do it earlier because we'd
been distracted. Homework (i.e. kissing) can take up so much time!

Loading the clothes into the washer, I added the detergent, the bleach, the
fabric-softener ball, made sure the settings were correct, and pushed the
start button.

Allison turned me around and leaned in for a kiss. She caressed my cheek
with one hand and drew me in with the other. She started out touching my
tongue with hers for just a second and then pulling back. It was incredibly
erotic and frustrating. As she explored my mouth, I was pressed back
against the running washer. It created a pleasant sensation in my bottom,
as Ally stoked an equally pleasant sensation in my head. After a minute,
she moved on through my eyes, nose, ears, cheeks, and started on my
neck. "Umm! You taste like those Godiva chocolates you're so fond of."

* * *

I was a reluctant participant in the walks until one day. I happened to
come up behind Ally on one of the few times she'd worn a dress to
school. Before I could call out or she noticed me, I was entranced by the
most deliciously extraordinary ripple as she walked, almost a "Z". I
decided then and there that I liked walking after all, especially if I had
a view like that to look at.

I started looking for opportunities to walk behind my
Sunshine. Opportunities which, considering her long legs and
distance-eating stride, weren't hard to come by. I almost have to run to
keep up with her unless she consciously slows down.

Her legs are one of her best features. Her ankles are nicely turned. Her
calves and knees are sublime. I cried when we first met because Ally's legs
were bruised and scarred from soccer and she didn't want to wear knee pads
or shin guards. She buys boot-cut jeans or has pants lengthened in order to
get clothes that fit. Emphasizing her legs never enters Ally's mind. She
says "If it isn't comfortable, I won't wear it."

Ally doesn't wear dresses or skirts near enough. Not for me, her parents,
or almost anyone else. Flowing, not form-fitting is her preferred
style. Somewhere she came up with the saying, "An imagination is a terrible
thing to waste." She usually wears flats or sneakers, maybe a modest
heel. I don't think she even owns high heels.

* * *

A surprise orgasm pulsed through me when Ally picked me up and deposited me
atop the running washer. I arched into her and almost lifted myself back
off the washer. Ally held me and stroked my back as I came down. She was
singing along with the radio:

Cause I can feel you breathe
It's washing over me
And suddenly I'm melting into you...*

Then Ally started in on me again. One hand stroked the left side of my neck
while the other hand popped open the top button of my shirt. Her mouth
mirrored her hand on the right side of my neck.

Every time a button opened, Ally explored using her tongue and fingers. My
skin was on fire and each hand was full of her hair. I felt I was being
devoured. I kept trying to pull her up for a kiss and occasionally she
would let me; one of those earth-shattering, lift-you-up-to-heaven,
hope-it-never-ends kisses.

"I thought we were going to keep you naked."

"I told you to keep me that way if you liked it." I sighed.

"Eventually. I'm having too much fun right now." Undoing the last of my
shirt buttons, Ally flicked it aside. Another orgasm coursed across my skin
when she bit my diamond-hard nipple through my bra. She pushed the shirt
off my shoulders and reached around to unhook it. I reached for Ally's
breasts, but she caught my hands, "Not yet, Sweets. I'm not done."

"Please..." I moaned.

* * *

Silky blouses and sweaters show off her long arms and strong
shoulders. Ally's style makes it hard to tell much about her figure or what
she's wearing underneath. She might be wearing a frilly bra, a sports bra,
or no bra at all. She doesn't go braless often though, because her nipples
can pop out in the blink of an eye. It turned out that frequent trips to
Victoria's Secret were a necessity and a pleasure.

Both of us love to shampoo the other's hair. I lather Ally up and gently
pull through her hair, massaging her scalp as I go. The massage makes
"rinse and repeat" a treat rather than a chore. Her long, blonde hair feels
so good in my hands. It reaches the middle of her back and she usually
wears it in a French braid off the field. I start by drying her hair by
hand. Then I comb it out to make sure there are no tangles. I use the blow
dryer until the hair is almost dry. Then I start brushing from the tips and
work my way up, ending with fifty long strokes from the scalp to the
ends. Ally usually is cooing by this time. I always make sure to draw her
hair back so her ears peak out and it's easier to nibble on them.

* * *

"Eventually. I'm on a mission."

"Mission...?"

"Yes, mission. I want to see if I can drive you out of your mind with
pleasure. A very scientific experiment, I believe." Ally punctuated her
statement by latching onto one nipple with her mouth, the other nipple with
one hand, and unsnapping my jeans. Any reply I might have made was cut off
by the pleasure spiking in my brain and in my belly. "Lift up a bit,
please."

I disentangled my hands from Ally's hair and lifted myself off the
washer. Ally skinned down my jeans and panties; tossing them into the
laundry basket we'd just emptied. She slipped a towel under my bare
bottom. "We don't want you leaking into the washer, do we?"

I was dumbstruck. I could hear Ally talking, but it was like I was on
autopilot. I heard the radio:

It's the way you love me
It's a feeling like this
It's centrifugal motion
It's perpetual bliss.**

The washer started a spin cycle just as I lowered myself down. This caused
the sensations vibrating through my body to peak in a crashing cum that
rebounded between my pussy and my breasts in sympathy. I threw my arms
around Ally's neck and held on for dear life. She cradled me as I rested my
head on her shoulder.

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. I raised my head and
looked into Ally's eyes and saw how much she loved me. I don't know what
mine showed. Maybe pleasure, maybe confusion, but I hope she saw the same
love.

"Does this qualify as eventually?" I reached for Ally's breasts and bent to
nuzzle her neck.

"Almost. I think you're just about ripe for picking."

* * *

That's not to say that Ally doesn't do "form-fitting" or show off a
bit. She does have denim miniskirts that put her great expanse of leg on
display. A tight sweater or strappy tank-top with an open jacket to create
shadows and spark the imagination is something she will do when she's in a
sexy mood and looking to play.

And then there's Ally's "little black dress". Imagine Bridget Fonda in
Point of No Return meandering--alright, running--through mayhem and
destruction in her little black number and you begin to get a picture of
what Ally looks like. Her dress is a strapless number with a miniskirt that
comes up to about mid-thigh; a full skirt that "ripples" when she walks. It
has a yoke that attaches above her right breast and can pass over either
shoulder, attaching in back. She also wears hose with a black seam up the
back, heels with an ankle strap, a single strand of pearls, and pearl-drop
earrings.

With one shoulder and both arms uncovered, showing a hint of cleavage, a
bouncy flounce in her step, her hair pinned up, and Ally is ready to
play. If she wants to be a bit more sedate, she has a black shawl she can
wear.

* * *

"Almost...?"

"Yes, pretty close. I think."

"Picking...?"

"That's when the fun begins."

"Fun...?"

"I'm having fun. Aren't you?"

"I guess?"

Ally stuck her tongue down my throat and stretched my nipple out, letting
it snap back. A moan escaped me as I soared back into the heights. She
reached down and tickled my clit back out of its hood. A massive cum
exploded across my body. Ally stuck two fingers into my squishy pussy and
scratched my G-spot.

Rather than put me out, as it has done before, it energized me.

I breathed in Ally's physicalness, her kinesthetic aura, and it energized
me even more.

* * *

Just as it is obvious when Ally wants to play, it is equally obvious when
it is time to duck.

One night, I saw a figure come out of the shadows. Backlit by a street lamp
and shrouded by the fog, it was dressed all in black: black jeans, black
shirt, black boots, and black duster. Heels clicking on the sidewalk, a
determined stride, eyes blazing, mouth set, hair loose, arms aswing. I'd
been watching an episode of Witchblade the night before and the mysterious
figure reminded me of when the main character is about to kick ass and take
names.

When it got closer, I realized it was Allison. She passed me by without a
second look. I was worried and followed her. All she did was walk (and
walk, and walk...). A couple of times, people almost approached her, but
thought better of it.

Finally, she passed by her house and turned in. She went in the back door
and I saw the light go on in her bedroom a minute later. It was the only
time I ever saw my Sunshine dressed that way, but it scared me.

* * *

My fingers weren't cooperating with my brain. I was trying to nosh on
Ally's neck and undo her shirt buttons at the same time. In my haste to get
at her breasts, a couple of her buttons popped off. You could hear them
"plink" all over the laundry room. "Oops," I heard someone giggle and
realized it was me.

"Slow down, Munchkin. We have plenty of time."

"Sorry."

"I'll sew them back on later."

I slipped Ally's shirt off and found she'd worn one of her new front-clasp
Victoria's Secret bras. I don't think I could have reached around behind
her without falling over. I pushed it off and gently bit on a nipple,
teasing it to hardness

I fumbled with the snap on Ally's jeans until she reached down and undid it
for me. I pushed her jeans and panties down and she kicked them off. I
reached for her pussy, which was just as squishy as mine and teased her
clit. She shivered as a cum rippled through her body.

"Now that you're properly dressed, we can begin." Ally picked me up and
headed for the stairs. It was all I could do to warp my legs around Ally's
waist and hang on.

I heard someone giggle again, "Besides, we're not supposed to be naked
downstairs if the `rents' aren't here."

`I won't tell if you won't."

* * *

I found out that Ally came back downstairs after I'd passed out from
exhaustion and moved the clothes from the washer into the dryer and started
another wash load with our "squishy" clothes.

Afterword:

My thanks to Gold & LH for their help.

-Donal



* Faith Hill, Breathe, 1999, Warner Bros/WEA
** Faith Hill, This Kiss, 1998, Warner Bros/WEA



Sapphic Erotica
© 2004-2008 Donal