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the handyman and the balerina
I was doing some remodeling work. The house owners were on
vacation, the place was in one of the better suburbs.
There was a big brick building behind the house; its large back
windows overlooked the backyard. It was some kind of dance school,
I could often see people twirling around in there. Only from the
shoulders up.
Anyhow, there was some ballet dancing going on one day. Only three
or four women. I'm a bit of an amateur athlete myself, I like
to play soccer on the weekend. I really admired the way they could
bring their feet up to their chins. I was staring up through that
window in real admiration when I met the eye of one of the women.
She smiled back at me. A big, bright, open smile. She was very
young, it was hard to tell from where I was. I was surprised at
myself, how exciting I found that brief moment of eye contact. I
got back to work, and tried to put it out of my mind. But I
couldn't help but to keep glancing back up at the window, hoping for
another glance from the lovely thing.
And then, there she was. Having a break, drinking a soft drink and
sitting upon the broad windowsill. She was wearing tights and wool
leggings over her calves. She was thin and long, very small
breasts. Her hair was up in a bun. She was looking at me. She
smiled. My heart rate increased. I smiled back at her,
flirtatiously.
I've been happily for 20 years. I love to look, I love to
flirt, but I'd never cheated on my wife.
Georgia has lost her looks, and we hardly ever have sex anymore. I
still love her though. Force of habit I suppose.
I went back to work, fantasizing of the ballerina, but not
giving the matter any serious consideration. Until she came walking
across the backyard.
She had showered and changed after her work out. She was wearing
light black cotton slacks and a white blouse. She was tall, almost
as tall as me, but only about half as wide.
She smiled at me again, and I thought I could see that she was
blushing slightly.
I smiled back at her, my best "Hi, how ya doing" grin. I felt my
penis stir.
"Hi." She said.
"Hi." I replied, "That was some work out you were having in there."
It was a little bit stupid, but it seemed to break the ice. I
didn't know why she had come down to talk to me, but I wasn't going
to let the opportunity slide by. I knew that a short conversation
with this lovely lady would leave me in a good mood for the
rest of the week.
"Oh, not really. We had a light session today."
There was an awkward moment.
"Is there something I can do for you?" I asked her. The idea that
she had come down only to flirt with me was too outrageous to
entertain.
"Not really. I was curious about what you're doing. The Holmes's
are friends of mine."
"Remodeling the kitchen, mainly. A few other odd jobs around the
house while they're away."
She stepped in through the back patio doors. She looked around at
my work as though she was actually interested. She asked some
questions, not stupid ones. We talked.
She was easy to talk to, an enjoyable diversion. Her name was
Christy.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" I asked her.
"Sure." She said.
And while that tea was brewed, poured, and consumed, we enjoyed each
other's company.
"I'd better let you get back to work." She said.
"I'm afraid so. It was great meeting you, I hope you'll pass by
again."
"Okay. I will!" And she bounced out the front door.
She came for tea again the next day. And the next. I was
infatuated. I was 39. I didn't tell my wife.
I wanted more, and I was sure she did as well.
An opportunity presented itself; a moment, a brief moment. A moment
while she was within arms reach, her very body too close to
mine, her aura overwhelming my common sense. I reached for her; I
put my large workers hand in the small of her long narrow graceful
back. Gently, I pulled her to me.
Her eyes were large and brown, soft and beautiful. Her face was
young, her skin perfect. Her lips were soft, yielding. Her tongue,
playful.
The physical contact between us was like a fire in dry grass. Once
it had been lit, there was no putting it out.
I think we spent about half an hour just kissing in the kitchen.
But slowly, piece by piece, I removed her clothes.
Her body was amazing. Barely an once of fat, a flat muscular
stomach, long lean powerful legs, dainty feet, a tiny perfect round
ass, amazingly slim hips. Her were small, barely protruding
from her chest.
I lifted her up, carrying her in my arms. She weighed almost
nothing to me at that moment. Her eyes were bright with excitement,
her arms circling my neck.
I carried her up the stairs to the bedroom.
She was incredibly responsive to my touch. She stretched herself
like a as I stroked her, moaned as I kissed her, gasped as I
entered her.
Her narrow muscular body was a delight, a delight such as I hadn't
known for many years. Partly it was the excitement of a new lover,
but it was also due to the sheer erotic beauty of the
ballerina.
Her first orgasm was powerful, if her reaction to it was anything to
go by. I stopped for a moment, so we could both catch our breath,
and so that I wouldn't come prematurely. I held her face in my
hands, and stared at the radiant beauty of it. Her big brown eyes
stared back at me, devouring me.
We were in a missionary position, my hard penis pinning her to the
bed. I resumed, tenderly, lovingly, brutally.
I kissed her, I fucked her, I made love with her. God, she was
great. This was what life was about, this was the thrill that
people try to get from drugs or jumping out of airplanes, this was
unspeakably amazing. I was Tarzan, swinging through the trees, I
was the primal man, an animal, society didn't exist, the world was
irrelevant. There was only her, the ballerina, my penis
pounding her to yet another orgasm. Joy, fulfillment.
We lay together quietly for some time afterwards. I stroked her
head, resting on my chest. I felt some guilt, but I didn't regret
it.
We cleaned ourselves up, and dressed. She didn't seem so
self-assured now somehow. I gave her a big hug, and she asked me if
I would be there the following day.
"I definitely will be, if you will be."
She kissed me, and ran off.
The job was actually done, and the following day was mostly cleaning
up and packing my tools. And waiting for Christy.
I had mixed feelings about this. Not because she was obviously so
much younger than myself. If they lady wanted to entertain
herself with a more experienced male, I didn't see a problem with
it. From all I've ever heard, most male ballet dancers are
homosexual. I could well imagine that the would get
frustrated.
No, I felt guilty about on my wife. I knew that if she
would find out about this, the pain to her would be greater even
than the pleasure that I was having. But I also knew that an
opportunity to get it on with a lady like Christy was not
likely to ever occur again in my lifetime. The thrill was too much,
it couldn't be denied. Whenever the cost, if Christy came back, if
she wanted me again. I would oblige her.
There was a knock on the door. She entered, not waiting for me to
open it. Her large clear eyes met mine, lightning danced between
us. I felt the rest of reality once more slipping away from me,
until only the woman was left.
I can't say what she felt, if she was conflicted about this herself.
I was obviously at least twice her age, but I can also say that I
had given her what she had needed the day before.
She was in my arms, the moisture of her mouth insufficient to
extinguish the fire in my lions. We left our clothes in a trail
that led upstairs to the bedroom.
She was flexible, like rubber. Her skin was so smooth and
taught. Her complexion was pale, creamy smooth and pale. She held
the ankle of her straight leg in her hand, opening her narrow crotch
to me, to my tongue. I wanted to give her everything, I wanted to
give her all I had and more. As her lover, I wanted her to
give her the benefit of my experience. Had she had lovers
before? The thought didn't occur to me. I thought,
but inexperienced. Coming too soon, fucking her crudely, not taking
the time to appreciate her excellence.
And she was excellent. I don't think she had any idea how
excellent. Even on this, our second sexual encounter, she
definitely lacked in bed the confidence that she enjoyed at the
coffee table. But as I strived to give her the maximum pleasure,
she grew into her potential. Her small hands caressed me, roaming
over my body, and of course delightfully over my genitals. She went
down on me, hesitantly.
It was infinitely more erotic then if someone had simply my
cock down their throat. She put it in her mouth, tasting it,
testing it. Exploring its texture with her tongue. She seemed to
enjoy the sensation, and I must say so did I.
In the 24 hours since I had last experienced the ecstasy of her
body, I had already forgotten how tight she was. All the power of
her slim body seemed to be squeezing against my penis while I fucked
her, while she cried out in the throes of orgasm.
It took us some time to recover our strength after the intensity of
the passion. When I saw how she was looking at me, I knew that she
was mine. She was my slave even as I was her's.
The Holmes is wouldn't be back for another week. We arranged to
meet again the following day.
It was little bit more calm this time. We took some time to talk.
Looking back on it, I can see how utterly infatuated I was. Every
word from her mouth was like a pearl. Already, she was my goddess.
We sat on the couch together, while we had our customary tea, and we
flirted and touched each other lightly. Our mouths met again,
delightfully.
I stood, and taking her hand, led her once more upstairs.
We lay naked in bed together, kissing and caressing each other's
bodies for a long time, reveling in the eroticism.
She lay on her stomach, as I ran my tongue up and down her spine.
Each time I reached the nape of her neck, my hard penis would slide
over the crack of her beautiful little ass.
She lifted her rear to me, and I entered her from behind. I fucked
her very slowly, running my hands all over her body. I massaged her
back and shoulders, I caressed her hips and small breasts. I bit
her neck.
She was silent as I withdrew, and turned her onto her back. My
tongue traveled up the smooth narrow valley between her slim
muscular thighs, and once more entered her, tasting her, loving her.
She bucked and cried, clamping my head with her thighs. I showed
her no mercy, persisting until her orgasm.
Only then did I push my cock once more into her. She was mine at
that moment, she belonged to me. To the power of my penis. I was
unstoppable, invincible. There seemed to be no limit to how far I
could drive her. I pushed her upwards and upwards, to orgasm after
orgasm.
My own heat grew and grew, my cock ached it was so hard. I didn't
know it was possible to be so aroused without coming. But each time
young Christy came against me, clutching me and staring wildly into
my eyes, I was also driven to a higher level of sexuality.
When, after an eternity of joy, I came, it was almost a
disappointment. Although the power of my own orgasm was higher than
I can ever remember, it meant a return to earth, a rapid decent from
the dizzying heights I had been occupying.
We lay together quietly in each other's arms for a time before
showering together.
The following day was Saturday, but I thought of a lie I could tell
my wife. We arranged to meet again.
But it wasn't Christy that met me at the Holmes's house. It was a
police detective.
"Mr. Robinson?"
"Yes."
"You are under arrest for the rape of Christina Barnes."
I suppose it was the utter confusion on my face that was the cause
of him stopping in the middle of reading me my rights to say;
"She's fourteen years old, you asshole."
That's how I came to be in here with a ten year sentence for child
rape. Luckily, my has stuck by me, and she's organizing my
appeal. Christy has agreed to testify for me, and my lawyer thinks
that was any luck, I should walk.
I hope now that you all know the details, you'll stop giving me
such a hard time.
Ace 2000
don't forget to write to me if by chance you liked this little tale!
aceinthe_hole@hotmail.com
check my website; http://www.asstr.org/~aceinthe_hole//
thanks, Ace