Travels With Miss Lucy
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Mult, Coercion, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, Anal Sex, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, First, Oral Sex, Petting, Squirting, Voyeurism,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Lucy was sex personified. She had that aura that pulled men into her web of desire with a single glance or smile that bound them to her bidding for a lifetime of servitude. Yet she was in her mind's eye..."A Good Girl".
The young girl crouching in the tall grass in that corner of the back yard, too difficult to mow because of the number of large stones and jutting tree stumps that seemingly had a life of their own raised her head to peer intently at the intruder into her daydream.
“Lucy, Lucy, I have some nice lemonade for you, honey. Come get it while it is nice and cold.”
Lucy hoped her mother didn’t see the lurking tiger hiding behind the boulder right in front of her. Of course, she might think it was only Oscar, the striped tabby cat they had rescued from the pound even though they had all sworn a pact that it was “only” a fact finding mission and that they had no intention of actually adopting one of the poor creatures.
Lucy’s mother saw her daughter looking straight at her and she felt satisfied that at least she was wearing the separated shorts and not the miniskirt that tended to show more of her business than was appropriate for an eighteen year old girl. The older woman knew it was strictly a generational problem for her because the teenagers on television these days seemed totally comfortable with showing everything they owned like they were in a contest for the girl with the least amount of modesty in mixed company. All this foolishness about “booties” and making a fuss over young girls with larger than normal backsides seemed downright nonsensical to her common sense thinking. She hoped her Lucy would have enough moral character to keep her male friends away from unnatural funny business with her virginal buttocks and act like a proper young lady at all times.
She was more than pleased with Lucy’s ability to make her own games and her own ways to amuse herself. It freed her to more important things like writing her column for the local newspaper. She was even able to work on her historical novel that never seemed to get closer to being finished no matter how much time she invested in it at. It was that time of her life when each hour was like a precious gold coin slipping from her fingers no matter her reluctance to lose a single minute.
“Mom, I have to finish this first. Just put it on the table and I promise I will drink it as soon as possible.”
It was enough to mollify the mother because she knew Lucy might be a bit scatter-brained when it came to reality and fantasy, but she was the kind of child that always told the truth and did what she promised no matter the consequences.
Rufus, the tabby cat slinked back behind the stone. The regal cat was too proud to acknowledge the presence of a ruling species that took their control as complete and never-ending in a world of infinite change. It was time to find a shady place to clean its paws because cleanliness was more important than anything else in the realm of cats.
Lucy Lipinski was a bit of a wisp, a real heart-breaker from the very beginning. She never really did anything slutty or unfeminine that could be criticized by total strangers, but one got the sense that she had a quality of promised depravity just sitting there waiting for nocturnal privacy. I should explain that I am her cousin Rocky and I generally hung around Lucy because she could make me go all to pieces inside with the hint of a smile or the touch of her little pinky. Sometimes, when we were stripped down for a dip at the pool or just in those short little periods of skimpy attire just before or after getting up from horizontal dreamtime, her luscious curves were visible to those around her and she was not at all uncomfortable in sharing her wealth of physical beauty. Lucy was kind enough to allow me to touch her female treasures when we were alone in complete privacy because she knew how much I lusted for her pretty young flesh. I knew how far I could go and we were comfortable with the fact that it only took a few minutes for each of us to get each other to the finish line like a pair of boxers sparring to improve our skills. We both knew there was no “Romance” involved and we were circumspect in keeping our contact truly a secret known only to us.
She confided in me because she knew I would never repeat a single word unless she directed me to transmit it others. I guess I was hooked but the bait was so tempting that even as I was being scraped into the frying pan, I had a smile of contentment just to be near her and hear the sound of her words falling from her ruby red lips that needed no lipstick to enhance her perfection. All I really needed was to be near Lucy to make my day. I never really expected her to give me much more than that because I was not one of the beautiful people she liked to surround herself with like some shield against the reality of the hard, cruel world. The fact that she was generous to me in terms of physical contact in private was a source of unspoken contentment that sealed my loyalty forever and a day.
“Do my back, Harry, use the new bottle of lotion. I don’t want to get sunburn and you know how sensitive my skin is when I am near a pool or the beach.”
I happily unscrewed the cap and drizzled the tropical fruit scented oil onto Lucy’s lightly tan shaded skin carefully keeping my fingernails away from the surface. The last thing I wanted to do was to mar that beautiful skin with one of my unruly paws like some country bumpkin reaching for the golden ring that was always just out of reach and only a symbol of unfulfilled desire so familiar to males with urges that exceeded the boundaries of their league. I knew the feeling and I respected the territorial limits of my closeness to Lucy. She knew I was docile and no threat to her tranquil state of mind that projected excitement. I could be counted on to stay far away from the fires of passion burning deeply inside me just another male drawn to her aura like a moth to a flame and unable to draw away even knowing that such proximity meant certain destruction.
Lucy had most people fooled.
She was young and beautiful and had a way about her that made most men run to her assistance even though all she did was hook them with a glance of simple helplessness. In a way, I felt sorry for all those guys because she would chew them up and spit them out like they were yesterday’s sweet buns, a little too stale for her liking in the aftermath of instant gratification.
Of course, her little doppelganger Margaret was so close that their legs were almost touching and it was difficult to see which leg belonged to whom. I never had any problem with that because Margaret was always doing her best to avoid the sun and she was at least two shades whiter than my Lucy even on a cloudy day. She knew that was a dead giveaway but her fear of the sun was more worrisome than her need to be just like Lucy and she opted to stay poorly tanned and just concentrated on making sure every look she took, every move she made was exactly like Lucy’s just to confuse the guys into thinking they were getting the real thing.
It was a Saturday night not too long ago that I succumbed to the Margaret game. It only took two bottles of Budweiser to weaken me to the point of closing my eyes and holding Margaret so closely that her identical “Lucy” scent fooled me into thinking the flesh in my arms was Lucy, my Madonna on a pedestal of ultimate gratification. She was all ready for fun and games on that empty sandy beach under a million stars that silently watched me knock on her sacred door and go inside with trembling hope I had Lucy inside my grasp once and for all.
Margaret talked to me in her “Lucy” voice and then, when I started to drain, she gasped her “Lucy” cry of pleasure holding me tightly like I was her soul-mate for life and not just some Lucy addicted fool using her as a substitute air-doll to ease his need for the real thing. We spent more than a few minutes just looking at each other because it was beyond a physical thing. I really never knew what sort of compulsion made Margaret obsessed with being a “Lucy” clone and in a strange way, it didn’t really matter very much because it was so rewarding.
I remember turning her over on her belly right there on the beach.
It was a good thing it was in the middle of the night and the only light was from the stars and a moon that often was hidden behind fast moving clouds that stretched endlessly to the horizon. I entered into that secret territory between her luscious cheeks with the intent to just tickle her sphincter with my business and show her what it would be like to take it all the way up the ass in her “Lucy” persona.
“I’m a good girl, Harry; you know I don’t fool around back there.”
I heard her voice loud and clear but my demons of desire gave me no quarter on the barren deserted sands. I pressed down harder than I intended and felt her toned muscle give way to my demands in a way that made me suspect that was what she really wanted after all was said and done.
Margaret’s sexy yelp of shock was more Margaret-sounding than her beloved Lucy and I knew right away that it was something she had never done before. I looked like I was getting a “Lucy-pretending” Margaret ass raised up high for full entry in a way that made us both content to continue the pretense that it was Lucy getting her rear door exercised and not the less-experienced Margaret writhing like a mindless snake between my legs and shouting out “Lucy” words of encouragement for me to drive my tool deeper and harder than I had ever done before.
The sound of her ass cheeks smacking into my happy thighs was music to my ears and it was in perfect harmony to the pounding surf not far from our bobbing heads. I could see in the light of the distant moon that her skin was just as perfect as Lucy’s and that she had even gotten a similar tattoo right above her little indentation at the top of her crack that was the spitting image of Lucy’s little devil with a pitchfork in his hand aimed down at the entry way just below. It made me thrust like a madman in a frenzied manner that caused us both to inch closer to the pounding surf and the white foam carried all the way over from the other side of the planet.
The scent of Lucy’s favorite perfume was mixed in with the raw musk of feminine lust and the salt sea spray sprinkled us with the power of the pounding ocean like an inspired priest casting holy water from his fingertips with sexually deprived enthusiasm. I looked down into Margaret’s possessed eyes and knew she was Lucy at that moment and our explosion of timeless juices merged together in a way that made us a Trinity in one person and inexplicably intertwined with no desire to ever part.