(For the Love of Clarissa)
(I might be editing this story in the near future. I'm posting it with only a couple of read throughs because I'm anxious for reader opinions. It's long, nearly 10,000 words, but you can always skip ahead. Thanks! Julie)
I was about to retire from my job and was none too happy about it. At sixty-four years old, healthy, vigorous, and suddenly alone due to the passing of my wife a year earlier, I was in no way ready to continue my lonely existence without the distractions of work.
My business was sales, and I traveled quite a bit. As the month of my forced retirement approached, I eagerly took any opportunity to go on these road trips. My route was fairly confined and I usually took a Greyhound to make my rounds.
It was on the last trip slotted for me that I met Clarissa. She was traveling alone and just happened to have the seat next to mine on this, for her, long trip from Tampa to somewhere in Rhode Island. I too was going to Rhode Island. I was going home.
I saw her as I ambled down the passageway, a singular spot of light in the rear of a dim, crowded vehicle. Seated in the very back row, her head was leaned against the window and she drew circles in the condensation that had gathered on the glass. It was humid and raining outside and the air was damp. She was strikingly beautiful with long, sleek, nearly black hair, and a dark complexion. She wore a blue jean skirt, a cropped orange t-shirt, and Birkenstock sandals. The contrast of bright orange against her dark skin made her positively glow.
As I seated myself, she turned, her brown eyes luminescent in the growing darkness, and gave me a smile. I returned the gesture and settled down in the aisle seat, leaving the middle one empty.
Silence reigned. I stole glances at her, noting her sad eyes, the slump of her posture, the glow of her skin. It was impossible to judge her age. She could be a youthful twenty, or a grown up twelve, but her appearance was so provocative that I found it difficult to tear my eyes away. I suppose she felt my glances because once, after watching her thigh become even more exposed as she twisted into a comfortable position, I shifted my eyes up and found myself looking into hers. She wore a small knowing smile and met my look head on. Blushing, I returned to my magazine and tried to ignore her.
"Do you have a wife?" Her question came out of the blue.
"No, not anymore," I answered, still looking at the magazine in my lap.
"Did she leave you?"
"No, she died."
"I'm sorry, that was a rude question wasn't it?"
At last, I looked at her. She was sitting slightly askew, facing me with one ankle tucked under the opposite thigh, her legs slightly spread. I couldn't help it because I knew what I would see; my eyes dropped down and there were her panties peeking out from underneath the blue of her skirt. It was difficult to tell in the obscure atmosphere, but I thought they were white cotton. At once, my penis twitched and rose to attention.
"No, it wasn't rude," I managed to say, drawn to that secret spot between her legs, "it was just honest." I stared, yes I stared, and the girl shifted again, slipping her buttocks down and allowing the skirt to ride higher. Again, a glance at her face revealed that amused, knowing smile. I gulped.
"So, are you all alone then?" She asked.
"I have two grown children. What's your name?" My question followed a bit too eagerly on the tail of my reply, but she only laughed a little and continued to eye me.
"Clarissa. What's yours?"
"Thomas, but you can call me Tom." It sounded stupid to me, but the words were just tumbling out of their own accord at that point. I was uncomfortably aware of my erection, hoping she couldn't see it, but guessing that she could if she chose to look. Something about her eyes held my gaze when all I really wanted to do was stare at her golden legs again and perhaps have another peek at those little panties.
"Pleased to meet you Tom." And she held out a small tan hand with a large opal shimmering on the third finger.
I took her hand and quite before I could stop myself, I raised it to my lips and kissed it, instantly feeling a fool. "The pleasure is all mine Clarissa."
She put her hand back in her lap making no effort to close her legs or otherwise hide herself from my stares. And stare I did, I lingered on her crotch, that tight feeling in my pants growing proportionately to the amount of time I spent looking at her. It was subtle, but I was sure she once again shifted in order to afford me an even better view.
I was extremely aroused by then. Again, I wondered about Clarissa's age but dared not ask for fear of what she might tell me. I didn't want to know, I wanted only to continue to feast my eyes on her and enjoy the low whispers in which she spoke.
"I asked if your wife left you because that's what my mother did. She ran off and left Daddy and me when I was four and moved to Rhode Island. I'm going to see her now; it will be the first time in many years," She hung her head for a moment, something dark haunting her eyes. "She doesn't know I'm coming."
I sympathized even while I was unsure what that really meant. Was she a runaway? A criminal perhaps? She seemed far too sweet to be the latter, but the runaway image inflamed me for some reason. Without thinking, I placed my hand on her leg and patted, assuring her that it would probably be all right. I was hard, so hard, and her smooth skin under my palm only worsened my condition. I stroked for a moment, lingering above her knee. She merely looked at me until I reluctantly pulled my hand away.
"It must be hard being all alone Tom."
"Yes, sometimes it's lonely. My daughters have married and moved away so I don't get to see them or my grandchildren very often. But I manage."
She turned and stared out the window, lost in thought and far away from that small bus. Worried that I'd upset her, I left her in peace and returned to my magazine, but I still felt her nearness, and my erection refused to go away.
It must have been close to a half hour later that I looked up again. Maybe it was her gaze pulling me, or just my own inner conscious reminding myself that I had a lovely girl sitting right beside me and that I should take full advantage of her beauty while I could. My breath caught in my throat when I saw her again. She was resting quietly, her head against the backrest, her angelic eyes open and fixed on me, her face in peaceful repose framed by all that glorious, silky hair. Moist lips parted, she took shallow breaths, each inhalation somehow resounding in my head with the force of a hurricane. As my eyes traveled lower, I caught sight of her tummy, the muscles refined and striking and calling out for a touch. Her thighs were parted, those panties finally revealed in detail with little blue flowers decorating them. At her sides her hands rested, palms up, open, relaxed.
I licked my lips and allowed emotion to wash over me. I ached to touch this girl, this creature of openness and sexuality. It was as if I were a youth again, excited by the presence of a female, yet it was deeper than that also. Somehow, I felt her affection for me, though I had no idea why or how it manifested itself inside one so young and alluring. My penis responded with a surge and at once my pants grew tight. Involuntarily, my hands twitched, wanting to reach out and trail a finger across those snug white panties. To touch her would be paradise.
"Tom?" her whisper interrupted my enchantment, "Please Tom. Do it. Touch me."
The amazement I felt over her having read my thoughts soon gave way to the base need within me and I stretched out a trembling hand. It hovered just over her knee for a moment, already absorbing the warmth of her skin, then it descended as a hang glider, slowly, gently, touching down on that coveted flesh and stroking her knee softly.
Moving a tiny bit closer, Clarissa sighed her contentment. Her face shone with pleasure as she accepted my touch. She shifted her body down, the movement bringing her right leg across the middle seat and sending my palm higher along her thigh. Those panties were within easy reach, the leg elastic just touching my finger.
I heard my breath quicken, oh God, she was so soft, and my senses were alive in a way they had not been for a long time. Her exquisite scent drifted up to engage me further and I inhaled quickly so as not to miss even a hint of her smell. Growing bold, I stroked, drawing circles on her skin much like the ones Clarissa had drawn on the window, each swipe contacting the fabric of her panties and pressing a little higher.
She opened her mouth slowly, extended her tongue, and drew it across her lips. They glittered in the soft light and a small moan escaped her. At that sound, the hurricane in my head grew louder and I felt blood rush through my temples leaving a slow pounding roar in its wake. My cock was leaking steadily and I was certain that one touch would have me releasing even more right inside my pants.
"Higher Tom. Please?"
Again with that husky voice, imploring me, urging me simply to touch her, to enjoy the softness of her skin. I gulped and moved my fingers up the length of her thigh until her panties filled the palm of my hand. She was so hot; her heat enveloped me, turning me on, making me crave her pleasure more than my own.
"Oh yes," she hissed, her voice a sibilant caress upon my tortured nerve endings.
Aroused beyond belief, I touched this young girl's mound, stroking insistently, my middle finger strong and firm across the unbelievably pliant flesh that was merely a fabric's width away.
.... There is more of this story ...