Where it happened: A lovely small hotel in New Zealand
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 7
Category: Straight
After my divorce some years ago, I had good results meeting single women through personal ads here in the U.S. My own ads, and the ads I answered, produced some nice dates and several interesting companions. I soon became aware that there were also many international penpal publications where singles could advertise for friendship and romance. Because I travel worldwide in my profession (I’m a writer), I placed personal ads in a number of these little magazines. Soon I was getting letters and photos from interesting and beautiful women from all over the world.
One in particular caught my eye. Her name was Jasmine, a 20-year-old Polynesian college student who lived in New Zealand. She hailed from Western Samoa, and was drawn to my personal ad. I soon learned that she was a quiet, reserved, shy girl, but one with a mind of her own and definite goals. By the time we had exchanged only three letters, she let the cat out of the bag: I had been chosen to relieve her of her virginity. The only problem was the 3,000 miles of land and 6,000 miles of ocean which separated us.
As luck would have it, I got a writing assignment which I could carry out anywhere, so long as I had a laptop computer and all my source files together in one place. I chose to make that place New Zealand, and packed my laptop and bags for a one-month trip. Jasmine was very excited. So was I.
On the other hand, I was starting to feel the weight of this even on my shoulders. I sensed that Jasmine had built up her expectations of the “big event” to mythic proportions. I wanted the experience to be perfect for her. But what did she expect? Could I determine what her hopes were? Could I meet her expectations? She was 20. I was 45. Hmmmm…..!
Both Jasmine and her sister, Liana, met me at the airport. She was just as pretty as in the photos she had sent to me: 5’2″, about 115 pounds, with brown eyes and long, flowing deep brown hair. A trained cultural dancer, she had a flat tummy and delightful, though not voluptuous, curves. After a day of sightseeing with the two of them, we took a taxi to my bed & breakfast residence. There I unpacked the gifts I had brought for them. After a while, Liana left, winking to her sister as she went out the door. Jasmine stood there, smiling at me demurely. I took her in my arms and gently kissed her. Her lips were as delicate as cotton candy. She gave a big sign, as if the big hurdle had been jumped. We lay down on my bed and talked, as I gently caressed her face and hair.
Then she jumped up and said, “I have a surprise for you.” Grabbing a paper bag, she ran into the bathroom. When she came out a few minutes later, she was wearing a pastel-colored sarong and a thin, pink top through which the rise of her breasts and nipples clearly showed. “I want to dance for you,” she said. “But it’s hard to do without the music. You’ll have to use your imagination.”
As she gracefully swayed around the bed, my imagination indeed kicked in. After watching her sensuous moves for just a few minutes, I got very hard, and a spot soon penetrated my pants where my tent pole had risen. She saw it and giggled.
When the dace was done and the applause ended, she returned to the bathroom. When she came out, she still had on the flimsy top, plus her jeans. I noticed that her belt was open, as well as the top button on her jeans.
She joined me again on the bed, and we started to kiss. She liked that a lot, as did I. She was both nervous and ticklish, and when I started to kiss her neck, two things happened: her nipples rose to their full glory — and she broke out laughing. “Nobody’s ever done that before,” she said with a laugh. “Do you like it?” I asked. “Oh yes,” she said, and fell back into bed on top of me.
Our tongues danced gently and capriciously for an eternity. All the time I stroked her hair, face, neck, and shoulders. Gently I pushed the straps of her top off her shoulders, and started to gently explore her breasts. She jumped slightly as if shocked by electricity when I first touched her stiff nipples with the palm of my hand. In non-verbal ways, she made it clear that she liked what was happening. I was delighted when she rolled over a bit, took my hand, and placed it firmly into the crotch of her corduroy jeans. Her juices had already soaked all the way through the thick material, and she snapped her legs shut on my hand, grinding it into her cloth-covered pussy. In return, I guided her hand inside my pants, where she found a hard, pulsing cock waiting for her. She spent the next ten minutes exploring it, testing it, and gently squeezing it as if to see how it worked and responded.
With my free hand, I moved to unbutton the camisole top, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. Instead, she pushed it down, exposing her beautiful, light tan breasts. I took in the sight with great delight, alternately staring into her eyes, now liquid brown pools of passion, and admiring her perfectly-formed breasts, now rising and falling rapidly as her desire grew. She started to groan and grind her crotch into my hand as I kissed her breasts and licked her nipples. I slid my hand out from between her legs, unzipped her jeans, and slid my hand inside her pink panties. They were soaked with her juices. She bucked and jerked with incredible force when my index finger parted her nether lips and touched her clit. As I slid my finger inside her, she immediately came with an orgasmic shudder and a yelp like a puppy whose tail had been stepped on! She looked at me with both eyes wide open and smiled a big smile, then flopped down on the bed. Aware how sensitive she was, I just let my finger relax inside her hot, wet place, enjoying the continuing contractions, and reveling in the sight of her flushed face, neck, and nipples.
The witching hour — 10:00 PM, the time the last bus left town to take her home — arrived all too soon. I reluctantly removed my hand from its warm, slippery place and traced her lips with her own juices. She licked them off and smiled at me. In ten minutes she was gone, leaving me alone with my tent pole, soggy briefs, and a bad case of blue balls. It didn’t take long to solve the problem manually and go to sleep.
The next two weeks were spent working on my book during the day, and squiring Jasmine and Liana around the city. Liana and I would usually end up at my hotel after dinner and continue our mutual explorations. After a week of progressively more delightful foreplay, we had worked our way to full nudity. Still Jasmine was most comfortable with being at least partially covered, and she delighted in the pink lace teddy I had brought her. She was both a ham and a good model, and sometimes spent hours parading around in the frilly, skimpy costume — to my great delight. The snaps of the crotch got popped often as I pleasured her with my tongue, and she writhed with delight as I harvested her sweet-tasting young juices with my tongue. In return, she mastered the fine art of giving head and drinking the resulting juices. It was as much a visual as a physical delight to see my pole disappearing between her lovely pink lips.
Three nights before I was to leave New Zealand, we both knew that tonight would be the night. I ordered room service dinners and champagne; we lit the dozen candles I had bought for the occasion. The champagne made us both giddy. We had a lovely session of 69, and both had good, satisfying orgasms. At the age of 45, it took about an hour to get hard again, but there was no rush. We were both sitting on the bed. I was leaning back against the headboard, sitting in the lotus position. I eased her unto my lap, sitting facing me. My cock, now rising again to the occasion, gently grazed her front door as we sat there, cooing and caressing. I was not super- hard, just firm. By flexing my legs, I could raise and lower her with great precision over my cock. I moved her closer to me, and her warm breasts touched my chest. I flexed my legs and raised her a bit. Just as I did, she smiled and reached down between our legs. She gently took the head of my cock and rubbed it the length of her very wet slit. The touch sent a spurt of blood into my veins, and my cock expanded a half inch in length.
She looked at me and smiled as the head of my cock gently divided the lips of her pussy and paused. By squeezing my legs carefully, I was able to start moving the head in and out, a half- inch at a time. She was both very wet and very tight. As I moved my cock gently in and out I felt her vaginal lips slowly start to expand to take me. The feelings were exquisite for both of us. Jasmine’s eyes were wide open with wonder, then closed in rapture. “I can’t believe this is finally happening,” she said in a gentle whisper. Then she moved closer to me, increasing the penetration. As she, too, started to get into the rhythm, my cock slowly but surely started to slip inside her hot love canal. Then, in a precious moment, I felt a little pop and the head of my cock was inside her. She looked at he in delight, and increased her movements. Moments later I was half-way in — and felt her hymen. I pressed no further — but she did. Rising four inches into the air and readjusting her legs, she dropped straight down onto my cock, shoving its six firm inches all inside in a single stroke. A wince of pain flashed across her face, and I was worried. I wanted it to be so perfect — but tears were coming to here eyes. She looked at me, half bewildered, half consumed by passion. I didn’t move, but soon she did. I looked down and saw a slight trickle of blood. She smiled through her tears — and gently started to ride up and down again.
Slowly, her rapture returned and the tempo increased. By now I was fully erect, and fully inside. The experience for me was truly ecstatic as I saw her pleasure bloom. She clamped down on my cock as her orgasm engulfed her; my orgasm was gentler but no less fulfilling. As she wound down, my organ started to shrink, and gently plopped out of her, soon to be followed by a delightful trickle of pink-tinged love juices. An hour later she gently teased me back to life with her mouth, then rolled over and watched me slowly and gently insert myself into her. The look on her face as she saw my cock slowly disappear inside her was a delight in itself. Our second time was slow, gently, and our orgasms warm but not frenetic, as the first ones had been.
We corresponded for about a year afterwards. Jasmine and I both looked back on the experience as extraordinary — but she had sought an experience, not a long-term relationship, and I understood that. Soon thereafter she fell in love with a boyfriend and became pregnant; her child was born several months after he left for greener pastures. She took a job as a flight attendant on a small Polynesian airline I’d never heard of; eventually my cards came back “Addressee Unknown.” Several years later, I remarried.
It was a rare treat to live out such a fantasy — and provide Jasmine with hers in return. Although I am, in fact, a professional writer, the above is strictly autobiographical and actually happened as I’ve written it. The only things changed were her and her sister’s names. To Jasmine, wherever she is: it was an honor and a pleasure. I’ll keep you in my heart forever. Love, Dick.
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