Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Jackson's Marvellous Melbourne: Part I - The Mail Room
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Disclaimer:

   This story is a blend of factual and fictional elements.  As such none
of the events described here happened as directly as described, being
either amalgamations or deconstructions of real events.  People and places
may have been changed, fictionalized or amalgamated to ensure better
readability and avoid any potential embarassment.

   Naturally this story being of a sexual nature is not intended (or
allowed) for persons under the age of 18, or whatever the legal age of
consent is in your country.  Its possession or reading my even be entirely
illegal in your country.

   If you have any comments, questions, flame or fan mail for me please
mail the address at the bottom of the story.  Enjoy.

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   "Nice ass," said an unknown but vaguely familar voice from behind me.  I
wheeled around to see our company's new mail girl.  By new, I mean she had
just joined our company about two weeks ago.  We hadn't spoken, except for
words required in a quick mail grab-and-go, like: "Hi, I need to collect
some mail"; "What's your name?"; "Oh, Jackson Lam"; "Here you go.  Just
sign here."; "Thanks".

   She'd just caught me in an act of extreme laziness.  Well, actually, two
acts of extreme laziness.  I usually keep my company
ID-card-come-access-card in my pants' pocket because I, unlike others
around me, don't like having a bad hair day photo swinging from my neck. 
If there's no-one around when I come to a card reader I normally just lift
my leg to the reader, like a dog would lift his to mark a tree, to save
myself the joules required to fumble in my pocket, grab the card, yank it
out, hold it at an appropriate distance, wait for door to open and then
clumsily put it back in my pocket while walking through.  Actually, that
was my second act of laziness.

   My first came hours before when I was dressing myself for another boring
day at my boring job in lovely Melbourne town.  Our workplace has a fairly
relaxed attitude to dress: if you're client-facing on a certain day you
must turn up in work pants, collared shirt and be nice and presentable,
otherwise anything barring shorts and sandals will suffice.  It was one of
my many non-client-facing days and, having come home late last night from a
late movie, I was in no mood to match my pair of jeans to a belt.  Without
much more thinking I grabbed the closest available non-smelly tee, checked
my presentability and walked out the door.  Unfortunately it wasn't until I
was on the tram that it dawned on me that matching one of my tighter,
shorter fitting tees with jeans and no belt wasn't the best idea.  Belt
free days were okay with shirts that sink well below crotch level, as they
would hide the fact that my jeans ride down, but today would require my
vigilence to pull my pants up whenever they rode down and took the top of
my underpants with them.

   I guess I hadn't paid due vigilence and now I was caught red handed.

   I put my leg down, as gracefully as one could in this situation, pulled
my jeans up, pushed my tee down and stammered.  "Oh.  Hi.  Uh, sorry.  I
was just, uhh, in a hurry, and, uhh, a bit lazy."

   I grabbed my card from my pocket, held it to open the door and walked
through.

   "Hey no need to be," she responded.

   "Cya," I mustered as I turned down the aisle and away to my desk red,
flustered and embarassed.

   If I had more presence of mind I would've said something wittier, and
classier, in response to being caught out, like "Hey you have a nice ass
too." Alas, I'm not much cop with the ladies, especially ones I find sexy
and with whom I harbour some dirty, dirty thoughts.  Much less so when I'm
embarassed out of my skin.

   Even though she'd only been with us for two weeks, quite a few guys
around the office openly discussed, behind her back, the idea of getting
into her pants.  And though I wouldn't share with them my lecherous
fantasies I did agree that she was quite a piece of work.

   We all worked in an medium-sized IT firm, based on the fringes of
Melbourne's CBD.  As you can guess with an IT firm the male-to-female ratio
was drastically skewed towards the male.  What few females our boss deigned
us to have were, in the main, quite good looking.  There was Sally, our
blonde-hair, blue-eyed receptionist; Wendy, my well endowed Asian
programming team mate and Maya an exceptionally well endowed consultant. 
And, of course, we had Lucy our new mailroom chick.

   She was about 155cm, with a coke-bottle figure (by that I mean not slim
but not chubby, a good waist and suitably tight clothing) and nice pert
little breasts.  Her face was befreckled and had, what I can best describe
as, mouse-like features: small nose, fullish cheeks, smallish eyes.  Not
beautiful in the catwalk sense but definitely cute and sexy.  Often she
wore her shoulder-length brown hair tied firmly back, which accentuated the
mousiness and cuteness.  I'd gathered, from talk around the office, that
she was an Arts student at uni who was working here full time for a
semester or two to pay her way through.

   My cube was sited near our floor's mailboxes and was missing a wall on
the mailbox side.  So, every morning and afternoon when she did her mail
runs I could spend a few good minutes surrupticiously catching a view of
her back and derriere.  Mostly she wore fitting black pants and a coloured
or striped business shirt.  Given her figure, she had a butt to die for. 
During my watching I would try to identify what type of panties she was
wearing, however I could never make out a panty line.  This, I surmised,
was due to the two back pockets, one for each check I gleefully noted, and
her constant motion in moving letters from the trolley to their mailboxes.
With no information to go on but what I saw, I imagined that she wore a
g-string which seperated her full, but not at all flabby, butt cheeks.

   My day passed by rather uneventfully, as did the entire week in fact. 
Needless to say I was little more careful with my clothing.

   At Friday on 4pm I found myself, again, at the The Well.  Almost every
Friday our CEO would convene the more alcoholically-inclined here for a
round or two of drinks.  I was just getting ready to leave; my team-mates
had left, and the two guys I hung around the most, Darren and Kris, were
off to the football and with their girlfriends.  Having just hung up on
Juri, another drinking partner, who was away "sick" today, I grabbed my
jacket to leave.

   Just as I turned around, I bumped, literally, into Lucy and Sally, who'd
just bought a round of drinks from the bar.

   "Oh shit sorry, I didn't see you guys there," I said, inspecting my
jacket for any alcohol spillage.

   "Oh that's okay.  You just about to leave are you?" Sally replied.

   "Uhh yeah.  Just about to head.  The boys left a few minutes back." Then
turning to a loud whisper I added, "and all that's left are the old guys
..."

   They both laughed at this.  "C'mon stay for another drink or two and
help us keep the average age down and the good looks up," she whispered
back in response.

   After obtaining another bourbon and coke, I joined them at a high table
near one of the high-set windows at street level.  The Well was a suitably
Melbourne pub, set in one of the city's many laneways and sited about six
steps below street level.  As such, the window gave us a view of the
passing legs and wheels.

   Even though Sally and I had been at the company for roughly the same
amount of time, one-and-a-half years, we'd never really spoken, except for
mundane worker-bee-to-receptionist conversations.  So, after we exhausted
some lines of conversation and endured a few awkward silences, Lucy
suggested we give each other a quickie history of our lives, to which we
all agreed.

   Lucy got the ball rolling.  Originally from the outer suburb of
Broadmeadows, she was indeed a struggling Arts student taking a semester
out to help pay her way through university.  Adding to her financial
burden, she had just moved out from home to live with her boyfriend,
Daniel.

   I was up next.  In my usual long winded manner I recounted the
following: studied BIT at UNSW, moved to Melbourne two years ago to get
away from the folks and, obstensibly, take up my current awesome job.

   Lastly, Sally told us how after finishing up her Commerce degree she
wanted to backpack through Asia, Europe, the States and, finally, Latin
America.  Unfortunately, her parents were going through a messy divorce
and, with that, her easy line of credit had disappeared, so in order to
save for her trip she took her current receptionist job.

   We spent the next round or two discussing our future travel plans before
the preparations for tonight's band began with the loud shrill of feedback.

   "I think that's our sign to leave, don't you think?" Sally said picking
up her handbag.

   "Guess so.  What have you fine ladies got planned for your Friday
night?" I asked with a faint hope that they'd be free to kick on.

   "Meeting Garry in about 10.  We're heading down to Swansea for the
weekend."

   "Going with Dan to the Bombers v Carlton match tonight," Lucy said with
a roll of the eyes.  "You?"

   "Nothing.  Nada."

   "What about your woman?"

   "Don't have one I'm afraid."

   "In between, eh?"

   "Uhh yeah ...  I'd be in between only if I had one before."

   That did it.  They didn't quite do a double take but it certainly halted
our preparations for the door.

   "Really?  You must be 24 or 25 now right?" Sally asked, breaking the
silence.

   "Yep."

   "Guess you must find it hard settling down with all the women throwing
themselves at you," Lucy piped in, in a somewhat joking manner.

   "Surely you jest."

   One.  Two.  Three seconds of uncomfortable silence and then I restarted
our motion towards the exit.

   We stood outside in the crisp Melbourne air.  It surprises me, even to
this day, that on some summer nights in Melbourne you can still feel a
distinct chill in the air.

   "Well I'm off this-a-way," I said motioning towards East Melbourne.

   "I'm meeting Garry back at work, so I'll see you guys next week." With
that Sally blew us a kiss and headed back to the office.

   "I'll walk with you for a bit," Lucy offered.  "Meeting Dan at the G."

   We walked in a silence for a few blocks.  In all my fantasies I hadn't
actually planned any conversation matter with Lucy and the chill in the air
wasn't helping me think of a change of topic.

   "How do you get your satisfaction then?" she asked out of the blue.

   "Huh?" I replied, turning a shade of pink.

   "Man, I'd get pretty randy if I went 6 or 7 weeks without you know
what."

   "Ohhh ...  well I guess you don't know what you're missing if you
haven't had it before."

   "What?  You're not telling me you're a virgin are you?"

   Silence.

   "Sorry.  I thought you meant they weren't throwing themselves at you,"
she continued, "but I figured you were getting some anyway.  Seriously, you
gotta get yourself some action." She paused.  "We'll go out next week and I
be your wingwoman or something."

   Eyes straight ahead then a red light.

   I turned to look at her.  "Nah, it's alright.  Seriously." Although I
was tempted by her offer, I've always wanted to seem more proper than
everyone else, so I hid it.

   "Man, I'd even be tempted to break you in ...  but ...  " and then the
rat-a-tat-tat of the lights changing green.  It couldn't come soon enough.
I was turing an even brighter shade of pink at the thought.  I would've had
a massive erection at that thought, had I not been so mortally embarassed.

   "You've got Daniel.  And anyway, I don't think I'd ever measure up to
your standard."

   "Oh I'm sure you'd be fine.  It takes a few goes to get into the rhythm
but I'm positive you'd be a fantastic shag.  Anyways, I'm sure there are
plenty of chicks who were into you but you just didn't realize it.  You're
quite good looking, you know?  Not Brad Pitt hot but I'd definitely do
you," she said, with her voice trailing off as she spotted her tram.  "Hey,
I've got to hop on this one, I'll see you next week right?"

   "Yep," I replied, still rattled.  She gave me a quick peck on the cheek
and hopped on tram.  I got one final view of her fine ass as she ascended
the stairs on the old-style W-class tram, then I turned and walked off
home.

   Surely she can't be serious.  Can she?  Nah, she's talking me up to make
me feel better after being so incredulous earlier.  That's it.  What if we
do go out for some bar and club hopping next week and she tries to hook me
up with someone?  I hope she's a good wingman, because as much as I deny it
I wanted to get laid.

   My mind was racing as I got home.  I showered and hopped into bed hoping
to drown away my silly thoughts and, after a quick night-cap or two, I fell
into slumber.

   The weekend passed by uneventfully, as most weekends do.  A light bout
of tennis here and there.  Catching a crap over-priced movie at the cinema.
The usual thing.  I began my next working week with a sense of trepidation,
rather than the raw excitement that filled my mind as I hit the hay on
Friday night.  I had began to fear the awkwardness between Lucy and I.

   Entering our floor in the high-rise office block nothing seemed to have
changed much.  I exchanged a livlier than before "how was your weekend"
banter with Sally but Lucy wasn't in her mail room and there was a small
pile of work waiting in my inbox.

   As the week progressed I began to dismiss our talk on Friday night as
nothing more than drunken plans: those that under a pall of alcohol seem
like a good idea, but in the harsh light of day never get acted upon. 
Every day that week I missed out on my customary mailbox-filling perv as I
was either in stuck in a meeting or having a relaxaing coffee down the
street.  At lunchtimes neither Lucy or Sally were in the
reception/mail-collection area.

   Come Thursday afternoon our office was agog with rumours and theories:
our CEO had sent out a company-wide email saying there was to be an
all-staff meeting this afternoon at 4.  No other details were given out,
except that we should all be in the office, if possible, at that time.

   Our company had ridden out the IT bust better than most: we only lost a
few people, we'd had a pay freeze (indeed some of the senior managers and
our CEO had taken pay cuts as a sign of good faith) and we weren't in the
red.  Most of the rumours centred around whether we were being bought out,
and with most of our senior managers seemingly in the dark, it seemed to be
a good enough theory.  Our CEO and his family owned most of the company
except for a few silent investors, that most of us never saw, and were
never heard from.  It wasn't impossible that our CEO wanted to cash in for
a relaxing retirement.  The rumour gained traction as no-one had seen nor
heard from him all day.

   Not long after four our CEO started walking floor, rounding up people
for the meeting.  As we didn't have a large enough meeting room to house
everybody we all gathered loosely in the aisles, and in our cubes, as he
stood on a table and set the record straight.

   "I hear there's a rumour going around that A&M IT Works has been bought
out," Albert Donovan, our CEO, began.  "This isn't true.  The truth, in
fact, is much better.  I know we've all suffered because of the downturn in
the market: we had to let a few people go and we're not taking home any
more money than two years ago.  So I'd like to thank you all by giving you
all a nice healthy bonus at the end of the year.  My secretary will be
sending out emails with the details tomorrow morning ..." His voice trailed
off as the murmur of voices grew in volume.

   "Now!  Now!" he proclaimed, as he banged his hand on a cubicle partition
to get our attention once more.  "We've all been working pretty hard, so
I've arranged for us all to enjoy a week down of sun, surf and relaxation
at the Stoney Point Convention Centre in Warnambool at the end of our
Christmas-New Year two week shutdown period.  I hope that everybody can
come along with their families or significant others.  An email with the
details will be coming your way shortly.  We'll need to know numbers by the
end of next week.  If you can't make it, we'll find some way of
compensating you."

   This had come as a surprise to us all.  I was deep in discussion with a
few teammates about whether we could make it and how we were going to rip
it up down there when I felt a tap on my shoulder.  I swung around and
found myself face-to-face with Lucy.  I stepped back a tad, both in a
surprise and to check her out.  She was wearing her hair down today and was
beaming at me, obviously elated at the news we'd just heard.  She was
wearing her customary fitting black pants topped off with a pink business
shirt with white stripes.  Or was that a white business shirt with pink
stripes?  Anyway, it was a nice fit and she seemed to have one more button
unbuttoned than usual, showing a bit of her not terribly ample clevage, but
definitely drawing your eyes to the perkiness of her breasts.

   "What awesome news, eh?  I've been trying to find you all week!  I hope
you haven't been trying to hide from me!" she blurted.

   "Sorry.  I've been pretty busy in meetings and whatnot.  It's bloody
awesome news, though."

   "I hope I get to go.  After all, I'm just a mailroom chick ..."

   "Nah I'm sure you'll be fine.  It's not like there's going to be anyone
in the office to deliver mail to.  I'm sure you'll get the email!  Speaking
of email ...  you could've mailed me."

   "I could've but I wanted to speak to you in person.  So, are you still
up for finding a lucky lady tomorrow night?"

   "Uhhh, yeah, sure," I said with no great conviction.  "I actually
thought it was one of those plans that get drawn up when you're drunk but
either get forgotten or seen as a bit of folly."

   "No.  What gave you that idea?  I'm deadly serious and I've been giving
it some thought.  We need to discuss tactics and so forth."

   "Tactics?"

   "Yeah.  How we approach a bunch of chicks.  What my role will be.  What
your role is.  Good things to say.  Standard responses.  Strategy.  You
know?  That type of stuff.  There's quite a bit to get through.  Are you
free tonight after work for some drinks and some tactical discussion?"

   Like a deer in the headlights all I could muster was, "Yeah, sure.  Got
nothing on tonight..."

   "Well I'll meet you at The Well at 5.30, okay?" and with that she walked
away.  I caught a glimpse of her fine ass before she melted into the crowd.
She didn't quite effect a model down the catwalk but there was a little bit
of side-to-side hip motion which drew your eyes to her butt and her shapely
figure.  With that I walked back to my cube and whiled away the time
aimlessly surfing the web, wondering what on earth she had in mind, and
what on earth I'd gotten myself into.

   I got to The Well at 5.40, wanting to be fashionably late and to send
out a "I'm not so sure about this" signal.  She was sitting at a high
table, by herself, nursing a Smirnoff Ice and aimlessly watching the TV
when I walked in.  In addition to her earlier clothing, she was wearing a
business jacket with one button done up and it served to both highlight and
push in her breasts.  Had I not been so apprehensive and wracked with
nerves I would've paused to add a chapter to my lust-filled thoughts.

   She chided me for being late and making her endure a few minutes of The
Price is Right.  Over a few drinks we discussed how it was going to work.
We'd start off early from Friday night drinks to bar hop.  We'd spend
exactly one round at each location scoping out the scene and if there was
nobody I found attractive, or interesting, we'd move on.  If I did see
someone of interest, I was go to the bathroom for a few minutes and she'd
try to get into their conversation.  When I came out I was to find her and
order us any necessary drinks before entering the conversation.  She would
try to stick to people who weren't my target but we'd play it by ear, as I
might well change targets during the course of a conversation.  If I was no
longer interested I'd tap her on the shoulder and insist that it was time
to meet so-and-so at such-and-such before making a graceful exit.

   We discussed further scenarios while having a bite of bar food.  For
example, the acquisition of phone numbers and calling the next day to
arrange a lunch, dinner, date or whatever.  I admitted to Lucy that so far
she had becalmed the whirlwind of apprehension that I had at the beginning
of the night.  Either that, or it was my good friend alcohol playing tricks
on me.  It wasn't until we were walking back up the office, at around 8.30
or so, to collect a few of Lucy's things that I realized how much we'd
actually had to drink.

   In the mail room, I sat on the sorting bench while I waited for her to
come back from the bathroom.  My head was swimming a bit and began
questioning why a company our size required a mailroom.  I heard the door
open and shut as I gazed, pondering, at some boxes stacked on the shelf
opposite me.  My reverie was broken when Lucy stood in front of me, a
little red faced from the alcohol we'd consumed.

   "You ready to go?" I asked, smelling my own alcohol reflected back at
me.

   "Yeah, but there's one scenario we forgot to discuss.  What if your
target did something like this ..." She grabbed my face and pressed our
lips together.  She opened her mouth but I had mine firmly closed, both in
shock and as a defence mechanism.  All her tongue got to taste were my
alcohol stained lips.  I pulled away but wasn't able to extricate myself
off the sorting table, as she was standing in the vee made by my legs.

   "Well, silly, you've got to open your mouth," she said as she grabbed my
face again and pressed our lips together.  Again, all she tasted were my
lips.

   "I won't stop doing this until you open your mouth," she said rather
firmly and with a stern look on her face.  Two thoughts raced through my
head, clouded with alcohol and shock: "what's happening?" and "what about
your boyfriend?".  She grabbed my face again, however this time I obliged
by opening my mouth.  Her tongue brushed and crashed against mine; I did
little but react and we broke again.

   "That's good.  Now, actually, put your tongue into my mouth.  Your
target's not going to jump your bones if you can't kiss." We did the same
again but this time my tongue fought back, albeit with little dexterity or
skill.

   "Ooh, that's better," she cooed.  "First time kissing too, eh?"

   Silence.

   "Say something.  C'mon," she implored.  "You gotta say something.  If
she said that to you and you said nothing, she'd be pretty disappointed, I
think."

   Silence.

   "OK, have it your way then.  But you've got to use your hands when she's
got you in a lip lock." We began our tongue probing again, this time she
manoeveured her hands to grab mine and place them on the small of her back,
then she pulled me closer to the edge of the bench so that more than just
our lips and hands were touching.  My thighs were around her hips and she
began feeling my back from the hips up.  We broke again.

   "You got to move your hands boy.  I won't let you go 'til you do."

   We locked lips again and I was getting rather used to the oral parrying;
prior to this I'd considered the exchange of oral fluids slightly
disgusting.  My hands were still static, though.  She ranged her hands up
my back to my neck and scalp and then back down to my hips the top of my
buttocks.  Then, quite by surprise, one hand rubbed my inner thigh and
moved up and then bingo!  She had found and cupped my balls.  With a start
my hands reached lower to her buttocks and pulled her closer to me.  When I
realized what had just happened I pulled my head back and our lips broke
apart.

   I looked into her eyes (I think, most of this time, I had my eyes
closed) and then at her face.  She was flushed pink and the blood was
rushing around my face too.

   "I think this has gone beyond just a discussion," I stammered, removing
my hands from her buttocks to hold on to the edge of the bench.  "What
about your boyfriend?"

   "What about him?  I'm just preparing you for what might happen
tomorrow," she retorted, with a smirk on her face.

   "No, seriously." With that she pulled our heads together and we engaged
in other round of tongue wrestling.  Letting go of my head, she pulled me,
by my butt, closer to her and right to the edge of the table; in order not
to fall off, I pulled her closer to me, but my feet were now touching the
ground with my weight resting on the edge of the table.

   "Mmm.  You see, your target may also kiss other parts of your body,"
Lucy huffed into my ear before feather-kissing my neck down to my collar.
In a moment of lucidity I convinced myself that we were merely petting and
boldly, for me, tried nibbling her ear.  I felt one hand, then another,
yank my business shirt out of my pants and then clamber up and down my
back.

   Rather lost in the moment, it took me a little while to realize that
those hands had moved over to the front and were grappling with my belt
buckle.  Grabbing her butt (and what I nice butt it was too, fullsome but
not flabby-feeling) I got her attention.

   "What are you doing?" I asked, glancing into her eyes.

   "We're just exploring the possibilities of what your target might do."

   "Well she just might be a little disappointed if she follows through on
this hypothetical situation," I said in moment of alcohol-fuelled honesty.
Considering the alcohol I had consumed earlier, it was amazing that I was
flying half-mast.

   "Well you can't cook any omletes without cracking some eggs open," she
whispered into my ear as she dexterously freed the buckle and then loosened
my fly.  Nibbling on my ear she started rubbing my cock and balls through
my underwear.  She ran her hand down my shaft from the head to my balls,
gave them a tweak and then ran it up again.  What was once half-mast was
soon fully erect and throbing for more attention.

   I opened my mouth to whimper out some vain protestation but she seized
this opportunity to engage in another exchange of saliva.  With both her
hands she hooked my briefs down, painfully catching my member as she did,
so that it went from vertical to horizontal and back again.  We broke our
kiss.  She looked at me and gave me a playful, evil smile before turning
her gaze downwards.

   Now standing out from a bush of pubic hair, pointing up at 45 degrees to
the horizontal, was my penis.  At her first glance my fully erect 4 inch
member began to wither under its new found attention.

   "Oh my god, it's embarassing isn't it?" I asked as I moved to pull my
daks up.  Lucy grabbed both my hands and forced them, and my daks, in the
opposite direction, taking my pants with them.

   "No way.  It's gorgeous.  And unique," she replied, as she headed
southwards.  She ran her left hand from the head to the base of my
half-limp, perpendicular penis, pushing my pubes back.  "You might want to
give your bush a little trim though," she said looking up before putting
her lips around head and then engulfing my manhood.  As her lips worked her
way past my head, she ran her tongue along the underside of my circumcision
mark and along my peehole, then over along the top side of my helmet with
the under side of her tongue.  It felt fantastic.  Whacking off had always
been fun but it never felt like this; so warm and wet.  She began slowly,
probing every bit of surface area my small schlong had to offer with her
tongue then she sped up, saving most of her tongue time for my head.

   I was in ectacsy.  I just couldn't believe that this girl who I'd
entertained so many dirty thoughts about was going down on me, and at her
own instigation too.  My head was swimming and my cock was straining at
being held horizontal; the skin was stretched and the insides wanted to
break free.  Then, in an instant, it was back at 45 degrees.

   It was simply fantastic.  Not only did her attentions feel wet and warm,
it was erratic and unpredictable; quite unlike even the best solo sessions.
Looking down the sight was quite fantastic: her eyes fixed on my member
except for a few of the most erotic glances upwards; her lips formed in an
O shrinking and expanding as it ran over my dick from head to base and back
again; my dick, not huge nor fat, straining and glistening with saliva. 
Were it not for the alcohol we'd consumed the show would've been over in
about ten seconds.

   "Mmm ...  see ...  nothing to be embarassed about.  And so hard too,"
she said before giving my head another lick.  Lucy glanced up at me with
the eyes of a vixen and held the base of my shaft once again with her left
hand (pushing back my pubes and nearly covering my entire cock).  She began
massaging my small, highly wrinkled ball bag with the other.  She dived in
again, working her way up and down slowly with lots of tongue attention
along the shaft.  Looking down: her hair was shaking as she bobbed slowly
on my pole; her light red lips holding only purple helmet, with her
mouse-like nose balanced atop, then slowly engulfing my pole down to my
hairs.

   She shifted her right hand from my balls to ranging up and down legs,
then my stomach and hips.  I pushed her hair back behind her ears so I
could get better a view of this mouse-like angel gorging herself on my
shaft.  She looked up, a little in surprise, at my first active engagement
in our sexual act.  She now kept her gaze on me; it was such a beguiling
look of lust and enjoyment and filled me with such a sense of happiness
that I almost didn't notice that I was getting perilously close to setting
my load free.

   "Oh my god, I think I'm going to ..." I blurted out, not quite able to
say the word cum.  This was taken as a sign to speed up.  Her lips now
ascended and descended on my pole with great velocity, her hair broke free
of her ears and flew backwards and forwards, brushing my pelvis on every
stroke.  I felt my head hitting the roof of her mouth, or maybe the back of
her throat, as she worked my lolipop with reckless abandon.  Within a few
more strokes I could hold back no more and the levy broke, letting out a
torrent, then ever decreasing streams, of my seed into the warm confines of
her mouth.  I can remember repeating the phrases "Oh my god!" and "Luce! 
Luce!" several times as my head fell back and my eyes closed.  When my head
came to and I opened my eyes, I stared down once more and saw Lucy
ever-so-slowly moving up and down my half-erect, perpendicular dick.  I
could feel her lips moving over my shaft and her tongue running the length
of my penis, stopping at the hole to lap up a little bit more of oozing cum
before flicking my head and swallowing.

   I couldn't believe that she'd willing gone down on me and swallowed my
first semen delivery given to another person.

   As the streams came to a halt Lucy withdrew to only envelop my head and
gave it a few last flicks, to which I moaned and let out one last
mini-gush, which she duly swallowed.  Finally my penis was naked by itself,
more than half limp, glistening with her saliva, bright red around my
circumcision mark and topped off with a shiny head.

   Raising herself she said, "Mmm ...  you're very tasty.  Salty and sweet.
It's been so long since I've done that."

   "That was just amazing.  So much better than whacking off," I gushed,
adding a little bit more blush to my already red face.

   "Wait until you stick your thing into some pussy tomorrow night."

   She grabbed me for one final liplock.  This time she tasted different.
Definitely saltier and a little bit sweet too.  As we engaged in the kiss
her hand found my cock again and roused it slightly.

   "You owe me one, by the way," she said, smiling and gazing into my eyes.
"What's the time?"

   "Just past nine," I said glancing at the wall clock.

   "Christ, I gotta get back home.  Dan will be home soon."

   I redressed myself while she made sure she had all her things.  As we
walked to her tram stop she continued discussing more aspects about
tomorrow night and how she was going to get me laid; I had my doubts about
this but didn't voice them.  She gave me a peck before boarding her tram
and I snuck in one last look at her derriere.

   I walked home, still in a daze of amazement.  I couldn't believe what
just happened.  It wasn't the way I'd imagined losing my cherry, having
always pictured it happening with my first girlfriend.  An Asian girlfriend
at that.

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   Please feel free to mail me a small_schlong2005 at yahoo.com