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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2001.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Eve
by Evan Banter (naillvr77@hotmail.com)

***

Eve is a story of a boy, a girl, and her long nails. 
This is a true story. Looking back, I doubt it 
sometimes, myself. But it happened. I should know. I 
have the scar. (MF, oral, fingernail fetish)

***

We never officially met until the summer after my junior 
year of college, but for me, we went back almost ten 
years. I distinctly remembering seeing her at my seventh 
grade bake sales, which were every Tuesday in the 
library. I was a kid, awkward and horny. She was a class 
mother. 

She was tall, about 5'10", with long features. Her neck 
craned gracefully over her buxom chest; her thighs 
always stretched below her skirts, showing a little too 
much leg for a woman who must have been in her late 
thirties. I also distinctly remembered her thin arms 
which she used when she talked. And then, her hands. 

She always wore jewelry on her slender fingers leading 
up to her beautiful nails. Her nail bed must have been 
1/2", and she always kept her them at least another 1/2" 
past the tip of her fingers. She obviously cared for her 
nails, because every time I saw her, she was doing 
something different. Usually, she wore a French 
manicure, although she would vary her tips, something 
rounded, something angular. Every so often she wore a 
burgundy color. And once, right around Christmas, she 
simply wore pure snow white.

I always looked forward to those bake sales. Whatever 
she was selling, I was buying. I still get excited 
thinking about her she would have to scoop change off 
the table, or how she would use her talons to gently 
life a brownie off a paper plate. The brownies were the 
best because she would usually get a few crumb stuck to 
her nails, which she would lick off. Nail by nail, she 
would open her mouth, stick out her tongue, and lick. 

I had to have been her best customer, and she knew it. 
We began exchange smiles after a few weeks, and I 
eventually accepted that she knew I had a crush on her. 
However, I assumed that she didn't know about my 
fascination with her nails. Until she caught me looking.

It was the end of the year. I was staring, infatuated, 
at her mouth as she was removing the last, stubborn bit 
of a Rice-Krispy treat from her long nail on her middle 
finger. She had a slight grin on her face, and was 
taking a little longer than normal. I must have been 
sporting a rather obvious adolescent erection, and I 
couldn't help myself but to look her in the eyes. And I 
swear, she winked at me. I wasn't positive, hell, I 
couldn't ask. But for years, that wink stayed with me as 
the centerpiece of my most frequent fantasies.

I saw her rarely after that year. I had learned her 
name, Eve, and I knew that she had several children at 
my school, although none in my grade. During high 
school, I would occasionally see her picking up her 
kids, with her long nails gently curved over the 
steering wheel of her Jaguar. I saw her once at a video 
store and once at a book store, but I knew that I 
couldn't approach her. She was married, for God's sake, 
and she had children who were younger than me. But I 
promised myself that, when I was older, if I ever had 
the chance even just to talk to her, I would go for it. 
What would I have to lose?

Which brings me back to the summer after my Junior year. 
I had been called to jury duty, which seemed like a 
drag. However, like many of you, I saw the bright side 
in these kinds of situations: I might just see some nice 
nails. I arrived early and took a seat in a rather drab 
room, waiting for instruction when Eve showed up. She 
was a little older now, but hadn't lost any of her looks 
or class. And she had gained about 1/4" on her nails. 
They were more beautiful than ever. She was wearing a 
nice, standard, French manicure, and I was going wild. 

It was the situation I always dreamed of. I was now 
twenty-one and more confident. I knew that this was 
going to be my last, best chance to talk to her. She 
took a seat and pulled out a book. As she read, she 
placed her right hand on the page, spreading her fingers 
for anyone to see. She held the cover with her left 
hand, with her thumb sticking straight into the air. 

Long nails of any kind excite me, but, personally, I 
always go absolutely with when I see the inside of the 
nail. And there was her long thumbnail pointing to the 
ceiling, waving back and forth. However, I didn't have 
the guts to talk to her. What would I say? "Hey, uh, 
Eve. You probably don't remember me but I was a horny 
seventh grader who bought like, fifty fudge squares from 
you in the late 80s. How about you forget your husband 
and screw around with me in my car?"

We were soon called to our first trials. The way jury 
duty works it that everyone is separated into groups and 
you go before a judge to be considered for a trial. Each 
group was about thirty people and each jury was twelve, 
so over half the people would be rejected for a 
particular case. That morning I vowed that I wouldn't 
get stuck on any trial, but I had a new purpose in life. 
I would get stuck on a trial with Eve.

She wasn't in my first group. It was some drug case and 
I made sure that I wasn't going to be selected. When the 
judge and lawyers asked me how I felt about legalization 
of drugs, I lied. I've never done drugs, nor have I ever 
had any respect for anyone who has, but I told them 
that, yes, drugs should be legalized and that I 
sincerely felt that drug prosecutions were a waste of 
time and taxpayer's money. That was all it took. Thank 
you for your time sir, but the county will not need your 
service in this case. Please go back downstairs and 
reenter the juror pool.

I knew she was going to be there when I got back. 
Actually, I can't remember seeing her there, but I felt 
that the next time I knew I would be lucky. When they 
called out her name, I actually stood up, willing that I 
would also be called. And I was. I reported to the 
courtroom.

She was there when I arrived. I could have sat next to 
her, but I hesitated. Now, I didn't just want to say hi 
or exchange smiles. I wanted to be on a jury with her, 
and I didn't want her to think that I was weird (and why 
would she think that?) Early on, she was chosen and 
passes their "are you biased and going to send this guy 
the chair for stealing a car" test. 

The case concerned a police officer accused to stealing 
from the evidence room and selling the good to pawn 
shops. Pretty dumb case, and pretty open and shut. This 
time, when I was called, I was Mr. Clean Slate. They 
asked if I had any relatives in law enforcement. I said 
no. (My uncle's a cop.) They asked if I was ever a 
victim of a crime. I said no. (Of course I've been a 
victim of a crime. This is America, isn't it.) And, with 
the grace of the nail gods, I was accepted.

If I had any complaints about this experience, it was 
that I had a bad seat. I was in the front row of the 
jury box, and Eve was in the back. Normally, I would 
keep turning around, just trying to get a glimpse. But 
this was a courtroom. I couldn't just raise my hand and 
say, "If it would please the court, I have a little 
fetish I would like to indulge in and there's a woman 
twice my age who I've been lusting after since the 
Reagan administration just a few feet away. Your honor, 
may I have your permission to take in her sexy nails and 
retire to the bathroom to jerk off." 

I had to be patient.

After a few words from the Judge, we adjourned for 
lunch. The jury was sent to the cafeteria. We weren't 
supposed to talk to anyone else, so we all sat together. 
I took a seat directly across from, and we began eating 
in silence. Finally, an elderly man decided to break the 
ice. He asks that everyone say their names and where 
they are from. We went around the table. I couldn't care 
less about everyone else's life story. I was just 
waiting for Eve. 

I knew that we had the same hometown, so when she said 
it, I remarked that I was from there, too. She smiles 
and we talked about it briefly. I didn't care about the 
content of the conversation. Here I was, finally looking 
her straight in the eye (with occasional glances towards 
her nails, of course), talking to her like an adult.

We finished our meals quickly and had some time to kill. 
Everyone made their way back to the courtroom and milled 
outside, waiting for everything to get moving. I 
approached Eve, and just started talking. Where exactly 
do you live? How long have you lived there? She was 
talking with her hands, as she always did, and I noticed 
something different. 

Back in seventh grade I had memorized everyone 
millimeter of her hands and nails. If there was such a 
thing as a forensic nail artist, I could give a good 
enough description that they could put up wanted 
posters. Imaging that. America's most wanted sexy nails.

When I saw it, my blood rushed straight from my brain to 
you know where. She had always worn her engagement ring 
and wedding ring. But they had been replaced with newer, 
smaller, rings. Did this mean...

"So, does your family live in town?"

"Well, my children are either in college or have 
graduated. And since my husband and I separated, I've 
been living alone."

I knew this was my time. I started flirting, smiling, 
laughing. And she was responding. At one point, she 
placed her hand on the forearms and gave a slight 
squeeze. Her thumb nail gently dug into my skin.

"Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No. Not at all."

We soon filed back into the courtroom. I had no idea 
what they talked about that afternoon, and I didn't 
care. I just wanted it to end so I could talk to Eve. 
After we adjourned for the evening, I approached Eve. 
The trial didn't seem like it would last long, and I 
figured that I had to make every moment count.

"So, Eve." I was calling her by her first name. "Since 
we live so near to each other, do you want to carpool? I 
can pick you up tomorrow."

"Sure."

She was going to be in my car. We were going to talk. We 
were going to be alone. I was in heaven.

She gave me her phone number and address and I told her 
that I would be there at a quarter to eight the next 
morning. I barely slept that night, and I made sure I 
was clean, well dressed, and ready for the morning.

When I pulled into her driveway, I saw her house for the 
first time. I was a modern, sleek building with- what 
else?--well manicured lawns. I didn't want to just honk 
and hurry her out. Instead, I went to the door and rang 
the bell. She answered in her bathrobe and apologized 
that she wasn't ready. I assured her that it really 
wasn't a problem. She sat me down in her kitchen, 
placing her hand on my shoulder, and poured me a cup of 
coffee. 

Her nails were simply beautiful. White, pure white, and 
nothing else. Glowing, glossy, but not flashy. Simple, 
and elegant, but still very different. She is only one 
of three women in my life ever to wear pure while nail 
polish, and she pulled it off beautifully. I saw in her 
kitchen and drank my coffee, relishing in the smell that 
she left behind in the room.

It took her a while to be ready. When she finally 
emerged, she was wearing a powder blue suit, showing 
some leg just like how I remembered her. Her top was cut 
rather low, exposing a little cleavage. She also wore 
heels probably a little too high for jury duty. But who 
was I to complain?

When we were finally in the car, we noticed that we were 
going to be late. And we knew that you can't be late for 
court. The judge doesn't care that I've been in the 
presence of a goddess. Eve was a little worried, too. 
She said that she would tell the judge that it was all 
her fault, but I told her not to worry. By this time it 
was 8:30 and the courthouse was about forty-five minutes 
away. So I started to speed.

I was a little timid at first. I didn't want Eve to 
think that I was an irresponsible kid. But as I started 
going faster, I noticed that she was into it. Her claws 
dug into the seat and he teeth showed through her smile.

"Are you doing all right?"

She tapped her heavenly hand on my leg. "Keep it up."

I couldn't believe it. She was having a great time. I 
never could have guess that this suburban mother had 
such a wild side. She laughed as we passed cars on the 
freeway and kept tapping my leg as I wove between 
traffic.

When we finally got to the courthouse, parked the car, 
and ran to the courtroom, we were still ten minutes 
late. We were the last ones there and we took our seats. 
After sustaining an accusing look from the judge, we 
were told that the defendant had agreed to a plea 
bargain and we were free to go. That's all. Thank you 
for playing.

Eve and I left the courthouse and just laughed. We had 
risked our lives to get there, and it was over before it 
began. Then she placed her hand on my shoulder and asks 
if I wanted to get some food.

We went to a freeway diner and sat down. It was only 
10:30. Neither of us had anywhere to go that day, and we 
settled down for a meal. She asked about me. College? 
Pretty good. Girlfriend? Not currently. And as she asked 
about me, I asked about her. Is she dating? A little. 
But she felt that she needed to change her image. She 
said that she's looked the same for over fifteen years, 
and maybe it was time to update. She said that now she 
was single, she should be a little more current. Maybe 
change her wardrobe. Or cut her hair.

"Just don't change the nails."

I had never complemented a woman's nails before. (This 
was before I saw all the pages on the net and got more 
confidence and understanding of my interest.) I had no 
idea how she would react. But I had made the leap. I had 
mentioned the nails.

"You really like the nails?"

"They're amazing! Don't you think so?"

"I guess. My husband liked them. But I guess I don't 
know how other men would react."

"Trust me, they're beautiful."

She smiled and held them out for me to get a closer 
look. I finally had them in my hand. She gently stroked 
my arm.

"You have goosebumps."

"Can you blame me?"

She pulled her hands away. I thought I had said too 
much. Did I scare her? Did she remember who I was, how I 
pined for her?

Suddenly, I felt her tapping on my knee. She stroked my 
leg, and I reached out my hand. I put mine on top of 
hers and grabbed her fingers. Then I went farther and 
began to massage her thigh, getting farther and farther 
up her skirt. I figured I might go as far as her 
underwear. Unfortunately, she wasn't wearing any. My 
hand had found its way to her vagina. As I touched her 
pubic hair, she leaned over to me and whispered into my 
ear.

"Forget the food. You can eat at my place."

As I stood up, she noticed my erection and gently 
scratched it with her forefinger. I grabbed her hand and 
lead her to my car.

"You were driving pretty fast this morning. Let's see if 
you can do a little better."

I tore down the freeway, never dipping under 80. We 
didn't talk much in the car. Just staring. Every so 
often she would lean over and kiss my neck and drag her 
claws across my chest. As we took the exit to her house, 
she grabbed by crotch and began to rub me. Finally, her 
long fingers, her meticulously manicured nails, and 
their beautiful white polish where just where I always 
dreamed they would be.

We pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car. 
Once inside her house, she lead me into the bedroom. I 
opened her jacket to reveal a simple bra. Then I 
unzipped her skirt to reveal her naked pussy. I could 
smell excitement as I laid her down and, well, went 
down. I could have stayed there forever. A goddess like 
Eve deserved to feel pleasure. As I worked with my 
tongue, she placed her hands on my head, scratching my 
scalp and the back of my neck.

"It's your turn."

I sat up on the bed and she bent down and swallowed my 
penis into her mouth. As she worked the head with her 
tongue and lips, she played with my shaft and balls with 
her nails. At one point, she had my entire ball sack in 
the palm of her hand, gently squeezing and ticking. 
Overcome with pleasure, I spurted cum into her mouth. I 
had never come so much before. 

She swallowed most of it, but a little spilled onto her 
lips and cheek. As it dripped towards her chin, she let 
go of my nuts and gently scooped my seamen into her nail 
on her middle finger. Then she placed her finger in her 
mouth. It was exactly what she did years before with the 
homemade snacks at the bake sale. A small smile spread 
over her face and she worked her tongue to lick her nail 
clean. I looked her in the eye, and she winked.

"I think I remember you."

I stopped terrified. Did she think I was some freak?

"I always thought you were just some kid with a crush. 
Now I know, you're some sick pervert in love with my 
nails."

She paused. "Fuck me." She reached into her night table, 
and pulled out a condom. "I assume you want me to put 
this on you."

And how! Holding the package between her thumbs and her 
fingers, she tore it open. Then she slowly removed the 
rubber, holding it with her nails. She leaned over me, 
so her hair flopped over my head. She unrolled it onto 
my penis, gently unrolling it with her long fingers. And 
she sat back and spread her legs and grabbed my back and 
pulled me into her.

I entered her with a rush I think I will never feel 
again. She was by far the oldest woman I had ever been 
with, and I was expecting her to be loose. And she was, 
at first. But she knew how to use all of her vaginal 
muscles. As I rode her back and forth, she used her 
skill to squeeze my dick into submission. We sat up, 
with her on my lap and my dick in her cunt. She dug her 
claws into my shoulders as I lifted her up and down. She 
was experienced and knew then I was about to cum.

"This might hurt a little."

She leaned back off the bed so her head almost reached 
the floor, only holding on to me with her talons in my 
lower back. Suddenly, I felt a prick in ass, as she 
speared her left pinky into my hole. It was the first 
and only thing ever to go up there. The tip of the nail 
must have come close to my prostate, because I began to 
come uncontrollably. I jerked back and unloaded, ever 
more than before. She came at the same time, wiggling 
and moaning beneath me. Spent, I keeled over on top of 
her and we both fell to the ground.

We stared at each other, laughing and kissing. She 
brought her hand up to my mouth, allowing me to suck on 
her right hand. When I got to her ring finger, we 
noticed some blood. I assumed it was the anal 
penetration, but it was on the wrong hand. She turned me 
over to see that I was bleeding from my back. 
Apparently, as we both were writhing in ecstasy, she had 
torn off a small, raised mole on my lower back with her 
nail. She retrieved some gauze from the bathroom and 
patched me up.

"I guess this means that you'll have something to 
remember me by."

She threw her arms around me as we shared a long, deep 
kiss. We made love for the rest of the afternoon. I came 
three more times. She came at least three times that. I 
kissed her entire body. She scratch me entire body. It 
was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me.

We met a few more times that summer. Of course, we knew 
that we couldn't ever have a normal relationship. 
Really, neither of us was looking for one. We made love 
several times. I even convinced her to take me along to 
her nail appointments a few times. But she was getting a 
divorce and I was going back to school.

I only saw her once after that summer. I was at Staples, 
picking up some printing paper, and peeking down the 
aisles, searing for long nails. She was shopping for a 
day planner, but had a man on her arm. As I approached 
her, I noticed that she had a new engagement ring. I 
waited for her fiancé to leave and I sidle up beside 
her. She looked down at me, lifted my shirt, and gently 
scratched my lower back, right over the scar she had 
given me. And then she walked away.

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 79