“ The heat waves shimmered in the distance, inexorably rising off the sand in an merciless display of female parent Nature's authority. My Indian Princess Jasmine was nowhere to be found. Off to the left, the horns could be heard, the horns signaling the start of another battle."

It was the summer of 1869. It was the summertime of my life story ending in India…

Oh how I shall miss my love Princess Jasmine, the silky fluent texture of her just skin, and the lips that pulsate with fiery walking on air whenever they so, so gently insistency against my cheek. Oh how I can still feel the heat of her breathing space upon my cutis, the gentle breeze coming from the smiling lips and her nose…

Then in an wink to the here and now I suddenly returned, calling out lodge to the handful of my men who stood at the set up behind the rampart battlement ; each one held the look of a man who knows that before the day is done, they will stand in judgment before He who watches over all of us on earth.

As the foeman troop closed, a sea of man, shouting and crying for our deaths, many bearing siege ravel to scale the wall, others carrying muskets or repeating rifles, even a few heading swords or long knife. In an jiffy I shouted for my men to get ready and to fire at will after the phone call is given…

Then we waited until the tide swept into range…

"attack, ardor, fervidness, for your very biography and for God and King FIRE FOR EFFECT this day,"I shouted to them.

One, two, ten and then a blare of haphazardness and smoke as brand shot flowed out tearing asunder our foeman, with each one who fell replaced by ten More ever closing the aloofness. Soon the sand dune of sand, shimmering in the sun, sparkled with deep rich red from the shattered human beings before us ; and soon our own would be conflate in as well.

"scrap well my boys,"the old Colonel, Handel, stubborn, dower, gruff and as sociable as a old rhinoceros, shouted to us over the roar of nip and carapace of cannon and mortar coming into the city."competitiveness well my boy, and betray yourselves as dearly as you can…"

Those were the last quarrel he ever uttered as he stood there, before the huge, wooden, city gates as an explosive laden cannon ball slammed into them ; torn asunder from their respective walls, they hung in the air for what seemed a timelessness of time, before gravity sent them crashing down upon the dear old Colonel.

"Somehow,"I gulped,"I think this is going to be a very bad day for us…goodbye my dear Princess Jasmine."

"Oh brother,"I just declared with an exasperated suspiration, my eyes rolling to the promised land at the sheer number of erroneousness in the"factual cornerstone romanticism"I was reading. Supposedly the writer wrote of a Romance language between a British Captain of the 25th Regiment of foot, the think of"business leader's Own Borderers,"and his peeress love, a rightful princess from India, simply known as Jasmine.

I closed the leger with a flashy snap of my hand, debating for a brusque time of consigning it to either the trumpery can or saving it for kindling at the next cookout I have…which is about the only thing it's fit for.

There is one affair I have to say about owning and running your own shop, in this instance I rent clothing, tuxedos, night-robe and all the stuff that goes along with them. This is in addition to being a small consignment store with a range of articles from the fixture, mundane and everyday ; to the downright exotic…I still shake my head each sentence I gaze upon the courting of Roman armour on the mannequin, wondering if it ever will sell.

My very own little portion of the world, the fantastic, and hopefully, to be famous one of these Day,"Phillip's Fabulous Fashions,"run by, of course, Phillip ( me ). It's a nice, short, rundown and beat out up social structure, with a Ne sign outside that works nearly of the sentence ; though I have to take, that niggling cell tower on the ceiling is a bit of an annoying, as every week or two, when a storm comes in, it gets hit by a bolt or ten of lightning, and it causes me no end of trouble with the electrical wiring and the lights.

I can all too easily tell the shot you are envisioning, a lone man, boring and average in his own right, dealing with a tire computer memory, and boring customer, whose routine is the same day in and day out. A very wide-eyed, steady, and routine job and life, in which there is only one mutual denominator the proprietor has to deal with :

MIND suppression BOREDOM ! ! !

All too confessedly for the most part, yet once in a capital while, as with last night, something comes along and turns my little boring world on its head, and life is then never the same…as last night I met my own"Princess Jasmine"from far off India…

Tell you what, let me just begin from the beginning, and salvage boring you to death…


======
I was reading my latest voice communication book to trying to memorise Hindi ; both feet propped up on the desk, leaning too far back in the chair and completely oblivious to what was going on in the store. It took some time for my brain to cross-file the fact that, after various hours of inactivity, a client has come into the shop ; clearly indicated by the diffused, distinct ding-ding-ding of the alarm on the door.

The take in, distinct and consistent clip-clip-clip-clip from a set of high heels, did not fully register as they closed on my location. The indulgent, curved and quite heedful shadow of my client, blocking part of the disk overhead lighting, still had not penetrated the depths of my Harlan Stone dense cerebral matter.

"self-justification me sir, but I wish to try this one on,"a easy, cultured, and musical voice stated.

Looking over the edge of my script I was greeted by a sight that took my breath away !

She could have been a aliveness goddess who deigned to condescend unto the terra firma and walk of life among mortals. Oh for some grounds the heavens have become most Martin Luther King Jr. to me this eventide ; or the room access to the astuteness of Hades have opened, and my unceasing end of the world and damnation is fully at hand. Only a being from another universe or world could equate to this expression of living dish, a true incarnation on earth, which deems me worthy for a spare moment of her attention…

Just about five and a half feet in top, lithe and curved in all the in good order situation, she stood with one hand on her hip, the other holding a hanger on which hung one of the gown for letting. The sheer sweetheart of her blue eyes, coppery skin and pearly teeth was accentuated by the fine, balmy, silken blackamoor hair that seemed to trip the light fantastic toe with living of its own.

She was clad in a simpleton, emollient colored, spaghetti strap clothes, the conciliate trim of flowered radiation pattern in deep blues and vibrant reds ; the hem coming down halfway between her hip and knees. It clung to her organic structure like a second layer of tegument, showing off each sensuous contour of her flowing feminine build, the nipples of her white meat were visible through the stuff, which caused me to fixate upon them a bit too long…

"Excuse me sir, but, may I try this gown on…"she bent down a bit as the robe shifted on the hanger, allowing me to get a descent eyeshot of her partially revealed breasts…my eyes, then fountainhead, and the rest period of my soundbox moved to keep that view in plenty, following along like one hooked upon a business line by the bait of pick, knowing your own doom is at hand…

It was a present moment in eternity, leaning slowly across space and time…

…until I finally tipped too far in the electric chair, crashing to the storey when my engagement with soberness committed me to a meeting with the hard concrete floor ; so swiftly did this befall that the lady before me only had a instant to register the fact, a soft, musical theater gasp passing her lip as her free hand shot up to cover it, heart encompassing in seismic disturbance and surprise.

"Sorry about that,"I said from the level, reaching my hands up to hold on the desk's edge. So far I am not making much of a first feeling with the youthful lady ; and now I need to get back to a proper country of idea and business…unfortunately, instead of pulling myself up, my grip on the desk only brought a pile of stacked Bible by the edge crashing down with full, brief, and brutal sounding wallop upon my concrete dense head.

"Ow !"my protestation of pain sensation merged with the clattering of the crashing books.

Finally standing up, I gazed upon that brilliant smile, now grinning wide and partially hidden behind her one hand, and felt my heart charging into overdrive and my blood building up in temperature while my pharynx went drier than the Sahara Desert.

"Ah yes…the dress…let me see the robe for a moment…"

She handed it to me so I could correspond the tag number on it ; nous you, I never check the numbers game on the gowns, as each one is unequaled ; it's just that, with her, I wanted to have any excuse to be just a bit closer to her presence.

As for the night-robe she has selected ?

It is a wonderful, strapless and shoulderless gown of shimmering emerald green interracial with sky-blue blues, with yarn of golden flowers, Edward D. White birds and silver clouds woven into the cloth. I could just envisage what it would look like on her, and wound up gulping for a second so I could pass off once again.

Right now, I imagine the world record for ‘ clueless half-wit'has just been broken.

"Let me get the key for the changing room…"I said, my voice cracked like a bullfrog singing.

All I could recollect of at this moment is how much of an embarrassment I must be to the world ; here she is, a rarified gem of the populace in my shop, and I keep acting like a shame who should be dragged off to a niche of a thousand by her bodyguard, then tied to a tree or post as one stands off to the face declaring for his companion to get their guns ready…

Then with a wolf gleam in his expression, eyes glowing from behind darken sunglasses, he declares to them in turn,"Aim low valet, his humanness first and work your way up…Ready, aim….FIRE !"

I shuddered at that thought as I reached the rack of paint, searching for the one to the changing elbow room. My ear kept course of all auditory sensation, while my mind generated all manner of ghostly commandos entrance, hopping like understood dying around the racks and stands of garments toward me with swift death in their hand, their delegation to rescue the lady from the ‘ dangerous shop possessor who dared to look on her unceasing beauty…"

Key in hand, I stepped forward and slammed hard into the desk with such irreverent power that I went head over heals, rolling across its surface, and landing on the other face upon my feet. Her indulgent gasp and laughter dancing in those eyes continued when I gave a slight, clumsy and completely feckless bow with a expression of"I meant to do just that"on my face.

One affair I can say about myself is that when I make a consummate gull of self in any situation, I do it in dramatic trend and flashing. As they say, if you're going to botch something, do it completely and make it worth the coming embarrassment.

"Here is your key Miss…ah, oh dear ; my brain seems to be malfunctioning…it seems I have forgotten your name…"I said.

"Jasmine,"she said.

"If I may evidence you where the changing rooms are located ?"

Trying to sustain a pro and dignify composure I set out for the quoin of the store, a sheer long walk of life of about forty or so feet. After unlocking the door and opening it for her, I told her that if she needed anything to just phone as I will be working nearby.

Jasmine kept smiling as she passed me, her arm and hip brushing against my side, close enough to let me smell the angelic fragrance she wears ; something akin to cinnamon and honey mixed with rose petals. I followed her social movement into the changing elbow room, especially noticing the docile swaying of her hips and the spring of her bottom…until she turned to fold the threshold and gave me a coy smile with a wink.

Reaching out to steady myself on a textile single-foot, stunned by this bit of flirtation on her piece, I missed and once again got introduced to the ok concept of gravity and the impact upon the floor. Amazingly I was unhurt by this finicky fall ; however, the impingement did resile the cloths rack just enough to make it to lessen over upon me, and the one just across the aisle from it, and the mountain of books upon each one as well…

It's turning out to be one of those time for me. How much more will go improper in the day ? Or I should say how many more fourth dimension will my idiocy be proven around her ?

Thankfully being of distinctly male heritage, I have inherited the traditional, intemperate boned, concrete dense head to the highest degree of my ancestors possessed. So it comes in quite Handy, such as the crashing of fabric rack and Word of God onto said head, in preventing my premature extinction from this lifetime.

As I pulled myself out from the carnage of clothing and books I heard the soft chuckle of Miss Jasmine, who looked out from the changing room ; a smile of amusement and mischief-making on her cheek, heart dancing with loving and pinnace laugh - not of scorn but genuine amusement - one arm crossed over her breasts, the robe she has on holding to her waist by the barest of static.

Just looking upon those hidden riches beneath her arm, the movement of each breath she took causing them to slowly, effortlessly rise and gloaming like a graceful dancer practicing a well known routine for warm up, made my brain flash into instant steam and mush.

I shifted back to picking up the clothing and books. Right now, this was the just way I could keep my mind off of her ; and the bulging response my amatory desires have caused, threatening to deplumate my britches asunder in the front…

One by one I straightened the shelf of shoes, clothing on the racks and totally ignored the move of Jasmine in the changing room…

Right, who in the world am I fooling ? I wanted to get a point of her, and if at all possible her stop body. I mean, what do you require, I'm a guy, and a nerdish geek as well…

As I passed the changing room, the doorway was partially opened, and revealed a sight that would induce turned any man into instant ash tree as the flame of lust consumed him utterly in a heartbeat…

She had one foot raised onto the sitting death chair each changing way has, pulling up a stocking that is made of a sheer livid lace ; decorated in the normal of flowers, ivy vines and singing bird in escape. It accentuated the coppery flavour of her pelt, hugging the bend of her honed muscles, sloping like a baseball mitt over her foot and toes.
column inch by inch she moved it steadily up her favorable leg, causing me to hold in location from the wonder of her every motion, beauty and perfection combining feminine saving grace and hidden durability deep underneath if one bothered to await past the surface.

Oh how fortunate I have been this day to see such a wonder ; a dweeb dream come true is here before me and I just stand there like a discharge moron. I never got around to installing those video security cameras in the changing elbow room as I had planned for many a moon…

Oh well.

I'll just give birth to do that for future time.

======
Her campaign with the stocking proceed upward, as she seems totally unaware of my observing her. I tried to keep moving, but my head refused to let my feet go forward, backward, or any which way ; same for my head and optic, the grey-headed stuff between my ears kept screaming"MOVEMENT ALERT ! pinch OVERRIDE ORDERED ! livelihood female IN SIGHT ! AT ALL COSTS KEEP FEMALE IN survey"

Now while this was going on, the more socially oriented, etiquette correct dower of my brain kept up a long, whining, whimpering and pleading tirade ; over and over again, it kept emphasizing the wrongness of what the sleep of my brain was driving me to do.

As it turned out, Miss Jasmine was fully aware of my presence ; a lot more than I had assumed just a moment before. Sometimes a man can consume his world turned on its capitulum and not kick in a forethought at all ; and for me, this was one of those moments.

The stocking had just passed the turn of her knee joint, and she turned towards me, showing off the illuminating smiling of her enlightening grinning. She gave her psyche a slight shake, one intermixture mirth and concealed meaning as her hair danced around her boldness and mentum, then flowed like OK silk that caressed the golden texture of her cutis as I suddenly longed to do.

She moved slightly to one English, stretching upward as the stocking continued on its glamorously graceful guided journey up the rest of her leg. miss Jasmine stopped her guiding hands a few sentence, playfully smiling and using her fingertips to swirl sultry patterns upon the stockings textile, images of hearts and entwined organism, the symbolization of old for erotica and eff expressed in the silent spoken communication of tease and seduction.

But those eyes, when they swept up to suffer mine, the depths of them glimmered as similitude universes unfolding to limitless profundity ; dimensions of sensuality, gender, and the rawest of primal fiery feminine military unit on display to anyone wishing to make bold and step over the edge.

Then she shifted just a bit more, drive drawing my attending downward, to where the glittering volume of her breasts hung full and innocent for me to stare upon. I gave up a monumental draft, its echo carrying across the store and drawing a diffused, luscious giggle from her that sent the two marvellously mounds of undefined joy to bouncing around. The mammilla were fully erect, demanding that I close my mouth, unlock my mental capacity and get in there to begin giving the absolute limits of endurable passion to misfire Jasmine ; and to keep on until she is screaming from the mountain tops, or I die from sheer exertion during the effort.

My blood was boiling with smitten desire, my manhood at the rank limits of its strained efforts ; the roar that filled my brain demanded that I hurry on in an endeavor to score her and consummate a human relationship right wing then and there.

I could reckon that at any bit the fervidness alarms and smoke detectors would go off ; as I was consumed on the topographic point in body, mind and individual from the tsunamis of primal lust and heat crashing and surging over my dead body and into the aboriginal soup that is now my brain.

I momentarily pictured the scene of the fire department maitre d' explaining to his chief :"He just erupted into flames and took out fifteen city blocks in the procedure ; though Miss Jasmine is unharmed in the least…"

young woman Jasmine turned her head in my counselling yet again, and she winked.

She turned slightly one more than time and then bent over, adjusting her underpants ; touching the silken black laced cloth here, there, and then THERE, snaking her fingers just above the one location I know that drives womanhood into the altitude of enraptured bliss and the deepness of Nirvana when pleasured just right by someone…and then the material shifted just enough, deliberately done on her part, to provide me to behold the mysterious depths of her womanhood.

She stood up to the limits of her wonderful variety ; stretching her hands high-pitched into the air, pulling the muscleman of her abdomen taunting to usher the flawless perfection of each one in turn. Then with one arm behind her back, the early behind her neck, she altered her pose many times over, shifting invertebrate foot to foot, English to side, all with the state of grace of a terpsichorean in complete control of her entire being.

My gaze kept shifting between her and the rumination in the mirror ; my head in desperate overload as it kept demanding More and more stimulant from all of my dope ; with each pose, every subtle and absolute change in posture and display of swan like state of grace in motion, the images infused into my memory, branded there for all of time to come.

putting both of her deal behind her neck, turning her chest slightly to one side, she looked upon me and gave off a grand smiling that would send a million millions of men racing to post forth her every deed, and die happy to have made such an effort.

She said something to me, and apparently repeated it many times over until it finally sunk through the roaring wafture of my brain that she was asking me a question…

"Uh, good-for-naught missy Jasmine, I did not hear you the first time…"I belatedly said with uttermost cluelessness.

"Mr. Phillip's, I asked of you, how do I look ?"she asked twice more before it sunk into my head.

"Oh…wonderful…good enough to nosh on…nuts…."I palm slapped my grimace in complete mortification for saying that to her, convinced the rental of the surgical gown was now fully ended.

Can a man possibly make more of a motley fool of himself than doing that ?

"Mr. Phillip's, that is very kind of you to say so ; not very many would give such an honest, from the affectionateness type of compliment. Most of the men and charwoman I deal with in the commercial enterprise world are as ruthless and relentless as a swarm of vipers in the midst of a killing frenzy,"she said.

"Vipers in a killing hysteria ?"I softly inquired of from Miss Jasmine.

She just nodded, not the nod of one trying to intimidate another ; nor that of dissuading a man from paying any attention to her in turn. Just the nod of one hanker acquainted with peril on a larger and much more lethal shell than I could even imagine…

Unless…

My swig probably sent shockwaves across the total urban center ; causing principal to turn in wonderment, deliver for a smattering who would have knowing looks on their faces, approaching the room access of my shop at any minute, hands hidden in their trench coats…

So who would it be concerning girl Jasmine and their response in finding me staring at her womanly variant of inviolable wonderment…

Would it be a finis, not so friendly,"even comrade"from the ‘ men in black'of the KGB just before they use the hush side arm to meet me full of holes and give notice my shop class ? Or the ever efficient, ruthless and merciless men of the mob ; having been sent by Miss Jasmine's Godfather guardian, to"give Mr. Phillips his terminal farewell…"as my car, on the next turn of the ignition system switch, erupts into a ball of firing and million fragments of metal tearing my carcass into smoldering shreds…

Or would it be one of Her loftiness Secret Service, the infamous, double-oh's, who would do me in via a envenom hotdog, cyanide in the soda, exploding fountain pen. Oh I could see the last one all too well in my worst ambition of terror…

…I am at my desk, answering the phone, and need to take a subject matter down, I tell the individual on the early end,"just a moment and I will write this down,"I click the pen, and the plosion takes out the entire shop class and all for ten blocks around while the operator calmly tells the other party on the headphone"I am sorry, it appears your call has been interrupted due to technicalities…"

I looked at her from between start out fingers, seeing the soft niggling pout on her typeface while she spoke of these other dishonest people. It gave me the extra printing that they saw her as one of three matter : genuine competition due to her smasher, a one clip subjugation in bed or a potential playmate and girl-toy.

"I'm sorry to hear they treat you that way ; hopefully this gown will change their brain, not to mention sprain a few headland on individual as wonderful as you Miss Jasmine,"I declared unto her.

Of course, I suddenly thought, she could be an International assassin and agent…

She smiled a grinning like the richest of bee's honey, teasingly running her lingua along her lips as she looked down at my humanness. The first glimmering trails of lather were commencing their journey down my forehead, my impertinence flushing from holy terror filled estrus, though she probably assumed it was generated for a dissimilar reason.

"Thank you Mr. Phillip's, I will be up to the movement shortly,"she said as the doorway closed in its entirety.

"Your welcome Miss Jasmine, more than than welcome,"I headed back to my desk, wondering just how much trouble I have stumbled into tonight ; and listened to her singing a piano, haunting air in the speech of India, beautiful as a dream and as longing as a tarradiddle told…

The very Quran I had been reading and so casually discarded earlier ; the story of the British skipper of the twenty-fifth Regiment of substructure, the look on"King's Own Borderers,"who in the twelvemonth 1869, made his close stand in the deserts and mourned for his Princess Jasmine, who he would never see again…

I had to enquire, did she read the record, find out a true tale the book is based upon…or is she a trace of some sort maybe that of the foresighted lost Princess Jasmine herself ?

Any more speculation had to wait as I walked into the corner of my desk, the point jutting out in the shape of a gryphon delivering the full, dour force of Natalie Wood directly upon my manhood, causing me to go crashing once again unto the ground, mewling like a kitten as my eye crossed over.

"short letter to self,"I pitifully cried out,"never do that again."



*********************
Back at my desk I just fidgeted with the paperwork, all of it done long ago as I waited for Jasmine to get into position. I hoped that she would want to charter the nightdress and respective others, maybe even to go a calm client for the shop.

Although that scrubs she has selected would hug her flesh so tightly that one faulty move would sunder it to the finest degree ; a mickle any man and many women would enjoy to the replete !

Oh how I could see it happening…

She starts walking up the aisle, her gamey heels doing their steady clip-clip-clip-clip with each step she takes.

Her consistence would set the nightgown to gleaming in the igniter, swirling with the sky-blue blue devil and emerald greens as a sea of iridescent beauty ebbing and flowing ; her rosehip swaying ever so gently from side to side, causing her hair to bounce playfully where it sweeps down over her shoulders, ending just above those marvelous chest that strain for freedom underneath the fabric.

Those blue centre dance with sense of humour and mischief, showing she wants the nightgown for the night, and maybe for her own later on as a purchase.

Then one tone results in the sudden tearing speech sound of cloth strained too far and too fast.

She holds still as the stuff tears away from her organic structure, from one side to the other, leaving her momentarily in shock and mental rejection at the treason it displayed ; leaving her chest fully exposed, her fine hourglass figure shown to the mankind, and those stockings and undergarments the alone covering she has.

And then her smile widens as she stands there with one manus on her hip, arm bent at the articulatio cubiti, the former one playing in her tomentum as she asks of me…

"exculpation me Mr. Phillips, how do you think it looks on me ?"

I snapped out of my daydreaming to see Jasmine standing in front of the desk ; bent forward to enable a princely old view of her partially covered bosom.

"Uh…uh, you look…oh man…I stand for you…"I just stammered.

Her eyes showed a coy formula and she blew me a kiss.

My essence felt like it would instantly burst as my body becomes a pile of smoldering ashes as a flash fire slam me away into the afterlife.

celestial sphere above that gown matched her in every way possible ; hugging her like a moment skin from her bosom to the heart of her second joint. How it kept from going into insistent failure of the material I could not understand, as there should be no way for any movement at all, let alone the soft and steady breathing she does, letting her bosom rise and surrender in such a way as to demand all men's attention instantly.

putting her hands on hips, arms bent at the cubital joint, she did a series of quarter and one-half turns for me to see the entire outfit. Then she stepped forward and placed one leg, bent at the knee, upon its surface, allowing me to see the hem of the gown give way to the atomic number 29 tan of her skin until it flows under the sheer lace stocking.

Supporting herself on one arm, she leaned forward and affect my cheek with her release hand, swirling the finger point in retard rophy and teasing spirals.

I could reek her perfume, the wise mixture of trunk lotion and shampoo for her hair swirling into the scent of the shop and the other article of clothing ; along with the leather backing of my old role chair.

"Mr. Phillip's how does the nightie spirit on me ?"she asked one to a greater extent time.

I finally managed to get my mouth to link with my brain and speak :

"Miss Jasmine if there was a jacket crown placed upon your head with one hundred finely cut, flawless ball field they would still blanch when compared to the admiration you present to my old, bore eyes."

She giggled in delight, bringing a heyday of maximum overplus to my face.

The gown was as well as rented for the night…

Excellent !

I am really happy my drawers were still hidden by the desk, as the instant she began caressing my nerve, my very manhood rose swiftly to the moment and hit its climax almost instantly. It would let been total mortification for her to see my own cum staining part of my britches.

It's a good thing I do keep a few solidification of extra wear of my own here at the shop, including new underwear.


*************************
As it turned out, not as excellent as I had hoped ; for as it has become usual for me, old Murphy and his most infamous of laws came home to roost.

Jasmine stood there, a horned pout of disappointment on her face, optic downcast as she understood her available funds were just shy of the down payment and rental fees for the gown.

The remainder was very lowly, only a few buck, and I did not want to overleap a renting or disappoint Jasmine ; she has her meat on that one nightdress, and I figured if I cut some slackness, it would improve the odds of her becoming a repeat customer.

"Miss Jasmine I'll cut you a deal this time ; I will flourish the down payment for this one prison term only,"she looked at me with a expression of delight and surprisal, all but dancing around while clapping her men in excitement.

"Just call up, that the gown has to be back tonight ; by closing time ; and maybe we could…"I just stopped, amazed that I nearly asked her out on a date !

"And we could what Mr. Phillips ?"she asked, vertiginous with excitement.

"Maybe we could give some fun here at the shop ?"I asked and then grimaced as my metrical unit once again wound up in my mouth. I fully expected to get slapped or kicked in a furor of feminine anger, one I so rightfully deserve for such a statement.

Her hired man flew up to cover her oral fissure, which just hung receptive in a silent, shocked gasp of astonishment from my utterly bold and stupid query. Any moment now she will either storm out of the shop or slap me so hard I will be able-bodied to see over my dorsum for the rest of my life…which could cause a few problems with walking forward…

Her lips changed into an arch smile as she asked"Mr. Phillip's, May I wear the gown to the party ? There is not much time for me to get there and they can be so, so touchy about punctuality…"

"Of course of study you can,"I said.

She pulled the cash for the gown's rental out of her pocketbook and bent-grass over the desk to deal it to me, leaning in so close that she suddenly gave me a peck on the buttock followed by a smile.

"Thank you Mr. Phillip's, when I get back tonight we shall see how practically fun we can half,"she said to me.

She smiled, turned in a goody half R-2 on one toe, and strolled out of the shop ; I watched her every step and flow of her body until I crashed over the desk for the second meter this day…not landing on my feet, but into a bbl roster that ended in a single-foot of cloths.

Thankfully the falling metallic element crossbar that made up the length of the rack missed my fountainhead and stomach ; though as it crashed down upon my chestnuts, I understood once again the classic apprehension of all men : The nutcracker maneuver.

needle to say, most of the few other customers I had that evening wondered why my vocalization was so squeaky.


*************************
The rest of the day was as normal as any before, i.e. oil production. Not that I should quetch, the news show over the tuner has been proclaiming over and over of a ‘ wonderfully stiff storm."

The weatherman kept describing it with smack :"This tempest is to be one so powerful that it will rival that of the disaster of 1769, 1869, and 1969 ; the intact city will be destroyed. Flooding tens of feet deep will occur in the maiden few bit ; while buildings will be burned by searing bow of destructive lightning ; howling twist that will fill you with the dreadful cry of a banshee on the moors before they pick you up and fling you Swedish mile into the air for a bone smashing landing somewhere else…"

I listen to this for the fourth time tonight as I turned the lights off, exit the workshop and turn around to mesh the room access, the storm brews senior high disk overhead with the rumbling retort of thunder echoing across the urban center man made canyons of steel and concrete. trice of light come from the lamp posts as the barest of illumination they provide flicker on and off, the brighter flashes of lightning mixing with the first of all falling of rain from the welkin to cast an eerie glow across the land between sentence of darkness.

For some reason I held my helping hand from turning the key and looked over at the sidewalk near my car, I mean my car is not much to expect at, just an old, very bunk up VW Bug, but its mine…and right next to it is that dingbat weatherman broadcasting live outside the wireless station ( also across the street where my car is ).

He goes on and on and on about"…being experience in the middle of the catastrophe of the hundred ; the winds are so fierce that I can barely pick up myself think…'

Of track he is sedately sipping away on a cup of java between his ‘ desperate, danger filled broadcast in the heart of the storm.'I just shake my head at the sheer lip service and arrogance of such a man ; not to cite the fact he has nigh of the programme equipment upon the top and cowling of MY BUG !

"Blast it ! May you get your just wages for your act, this is unforgiveable !"I saw the look of utter disdain and disgust he gave me, especially as I pointed my remote starter and car alarm activating gimmick ( sounds a lot better saying that than"remote car key") and pushed the button.

My car warning signal goes"beep-beep-beep"just as a thundering flash of ignitor filled the area, the replication shattering many a window up and down the pulley as I stand there taking in the lot before me…

The weatherman standing, smoldering microphone in his hand, charred article of clothing hanging from his systema skeletale, while his oculus are alight in pure terror as they gaze upon me. My VW Bug is now a smoldering mass of perverted metal and spare parting, victim of the intense series of lightning bolts that happen to hit at that arcminute.

"Blast, I guess I forgot to turn off the auto destruct permutation for my…"I had to smile as the weatherman howled in virginal scourge and ran off down the street. Of course for me, now I face a long walk home in the rain, which is growing in intensity and Bob Hope I can explicate to the insurance companionship of how another car went up in pot due to a lightning strike…six in one calendar month now.

Turning back to the door, I reached for the key again, and enquire again about missy Jasmine and the noble-minded old soft touch I have been played for…

Key in the threshold lock, I prepared to turn it when I heard a feminine voice shouting out for me to sustain on and the click-click-click-click of high heels closing as rapidly as their wearer could.

She just stood in front line of me trying to apologise for being late while gasping for breathing space, the gown straining to keep entire as her bosom heaved in and out at an alarming rate. It seems the car bringing her rear to the shop had broken down and she literally ran to the store, trying to get back here in time. nous you, the surgical gown cling to her body like a second skin, soaked through and through by the rainwater, allowing her heaving bosom to be seen in full contingent, including those mamilla at stark care, keeping my oculus locked on them for some time.

Holding the door undetermined for her and flicking on the lights I told her I would be inside shortly.

Jasmine smiled at me, a coy look on her center, lips spread in a smile as her tongue playfully licked and swirled over one of her fingers held oh-so-innocently. She swayed her hip especially fine, keeping my attention fixed on her keister as she headed for the changing room.

A band of Marines and their Sergeant, out jogging in the rain, completely uncaring for this fierce violent storm passed by and looked briefly at Miss Jasmine with smiles and a quick succession of nods ; their serjeant declaring to the domain"Men, now you know one reason we serve on the edge of exemption ; to allow such a lucky couple to get fun creating the following generation of Marines…'

I shook my head in disbelief and started to maltreat forward, amused by their show of humor ; only to give the canopy over the room access rent open and trash dump gallons of utterly ice cold rainfall urine down upon me.

How much More madness is going to come tonight ?

======
Once inside I found her by my desk, standing ever so patiently, as I had forgotten to ease up her the key to the changing room. I did manage to find a organic structure towel for her to dry off with as well ; explaining it's a gift for her due to the weather.

I just sat at my desk, listening to her soft, tuneful telling as she changed and dried off, sorting out all the garbage I need to deal with tomorrow dayspring. I put it in the usual class of"pain-in-the-tush junk"to the ‘ I-really-don't-need-this-stress-in-my-life-junk"and the ever award"OH-NO-IT'S-THE-IRS junk."I even took the clip to check my electronic mail and saw nothing of grandness among them : just the usual charge about my VW bugs constantly drawing lightning down into the area and an inquiry from the wireless station of the fix of their weather forecaster.

"Mr. Phillips…"called out that melodious vocalism. I have no theme how long young woman Jasmine has been standing there while I went about my clientele. But when I looked up, I almost had a fondness attack on the fleck. My brain melted away, bones became mush and muscleman just sagged in the Revelation before me.

She had placed the tight gown off to one side of my desk, and succeeding to that is her own plain gown she had on earlier this day. Her purse was on that gown, and atop it laid her high hound and unmentionable. Those diaphanous white stockings were the lone matter else on as she stood there, smiling, hands on her articulatio coxae and one leg slightly crossed in battlefront of the other.

Oh my stars !

All I could do was gaze upon her with wonderment as I fought to arrive at control over my body.

Her coppery buttock shined in the light, enhanced by the smile of her brim, those blue eyes dancing with a raw mixture of humor and awakened desire. Her raven hairsbreadth hung across those alright shoulder, ending just above the pair of breasts so large and fine that any man would be gallant to asphyxiate between them with a yard old grin of delight on his face.

Her other hand lay on her hip, legs set to support her airs as a modeling for a pic shoot would take on ; the Lapplander pose that allowed me a fully frontal view of her bared womanhood !

My pump went to pounding so dissolute I had to marvel if those temblor measuring automobile were registering the consequence. I imagined the full blockage must be slowly shaking to pieces, so hard and fast was it pounding away.

"Do you like Mr. Phillip's ?"she teasingly asked, licking her brim in a swirling motion.

I started croaking like a Rana catesbeiana, still unable to consider this was going on right here and now.

Mind you, it's not like I have never been with a adult female, it's just the sheer…HER here and now that is making me into a idiot extraordinaire.

"Mr. Phillips, do you like what you see ?"she asked with a bit of concern in her voice.

I just nodded my head yes, and she breathed a sigh of sculptural relief ; probably figured I was going to die right on the point or something similar.

"You said you wanted to have some fun, so that is what I am going to do ; a deal is a deal after all,"she said to me. I just could not trust this is happening. Here it is, late in the even, a violent storm raging away and I am here with a lady that most men could only dream of having nearby, let alone having anything occurring between them !

My intellect raced at the enigma of how much she has planned for the two of us tonight…

I can hardly look to find out…

She came over to the book binding of my desk, eased down across it on her breadbasket and looked back over her berm at me with the boastful grin I have ever seen on a gentlewoman. Her branch shifted slightly, bending into the air at the knees as I got a sort out view of her naked womanhood. She scissored her leg once, twice, and then a third prison term before rolling over onto her back, grasping her knee joint to hug with her hands.

Her giggle drew my gaze up to her face, to see her glimmering smiling, and a image blinking to me.

She swung up and around to exchange to being on her hands and knee joint while facing me.

With one digit she motioned for me to come closer.

I could see her breasts hanging down, moving ever so slightly with each legal action she undertook ; even swirling her head around to transmit hair back over her shoulders made them bounce and jiggle, holding my interest group like a vice around a pipe.

I gave out a little squeaking phone and scooted my hot seat finisher to her.

Jasmine moved one hand upward, her fingers gently touching my impudence, moving in a inbound volute only to invert charge and repeat the pattern twice more, drawing a heated flush to my face ; my intimation was beginning to sound like a break in bellow, raspy and heated, as the fires of desire stoked higher and gamy in my body.

One function of my mentality was screaming for me to take flight, howling in threat, into the storm outside.

The other, the portion gradually gaining ground ; said to let it happen and relish the ride !

Ever so slowly she moved her fingertips over my Kuki and jaw, then my lips in recurrent circles with a teasing investigation of my lingua. When that happened I flicked it across the probing fingertip rapidly while giving off my own grin.

She giggled as their journey continued along my nose and across my brow, then covering my ear.

Each moment of gesture set my bodies temperature higher and gamey ; feeling like my consistence should melt in a blast of steam that would consume me utterly.


She put her hand firmly behind my neck, drawing me nearer as she slowly moved forward.

Her kiss was one of pure attack and lightning ; surging across each and every fiber of my eubstance. I could feel the sweat beginning to look on my skin, my humanity rising in full to the mo, as on my brim the salty taste of her own flowed and measured, bringing a rarify taste perception that mixed with the strawberry flavored lipstick she has put on sometime tonight.

I felt my Earth crash in on it, Nirvana has been achieved ! ! !

Then she planted that fiery, heat filled, electrifying second buss, followed by a 3rd, and even a fourth ; each one redoubling the strength of the preceding kiss.

She just softly giggled at my dismay.

Her giggling intensified when my men reached up and encompassed those grand breasts, shortly to stroke and work so gently the tit and physical body wherever I could reach. They felt so soft, warm and wonderful to my tactile sensation ; her eyes closed, neck arching slightly as she braced her hands - one on the desk, the other moving from my neck opening to my shoulder.

I heard a small, content sigh pass her lips.

I started to kiss her neck, taking slap-up delight in the gustation of her pelt ; a mixture of scents arising of her perfume and personal look ; along with that from her earlier dinner - fine steak with sauce, barbecued veggies, and the good odor of clover and vinegar from a English bag of salad.

Soon enough she leaned in to begin kissing my neck with such force I imagined there would be lip mark well into the next calendar month. I could feel the warmness of her quickening breath, the flak construction in her physical structure from the attention given to her body and breast.

Once again she turned back to my desk, leaning back until one leg was moving along the leg of my pant ; up and down, circling and teasing, touching and stroking. She kept licking her back talk as this happened, puckering and nibbling on them ; as she gave that oh-so-innocent spirit on her boldness, while her optic danced with abandonment of all command over her burning passion.

When her foundation wound up stroking my manhood I thought I would erupt into flames. It was all that I could do to proceed my manhood from pushing over the edge and hitting my press release ; I did not want this fun to end any time soon.

That wild fire of her optic redoubled, and redoubled again ; I knew then and there I was doomed, and to be honorable, I did not care.

Bracing on one arm, she brought her other bridge player to her backtalk, playfully nibbling and licking the bakshish of the fingers ; and then playfully sucking away as her eyes and smile enticed me into their profundity. Then her script commenced to move down her body, teasing circles on her chest ; across each breast, slowly caressing and teasing me in the small circles and spirals she executes, the tit firmly at attention and then some. She brings each one up to her backtalk, sucking and licking them gently, eyes locked upon me with a substance that the fun was about to reach a new level of intensity.

I put my script on her one leg, gently running them over the house muscles, caressing and softly massaging each in turn, working my way up to her interior thigh. Where the material of her stocking gave way to flesh, I made sure to redouble my efforts, seeking each spot that would do a chill, quivering or giggle deriving bit of esthesis.

I moved my chairwoman in as close as I could to her, lifting both of her legs up upon my shoulders ; then commenced to buss her further and further upwards toward her pelvis. She lay back, eyes closing once again as I drew closer to her womanhood ; breath becoming commingle with lenient cooing and mouse like squeaks, rim being gnawed on as desires mixed and flowed, hands covering her mouth as the fingers made soft balls, only to release and tighten again instant later.

I commenced to gently blow soft puffs of air onto her thigh, alternating English to side, generating pocket-size ripple of delight from her with each one. Finally as I closed within stretch of her nearly private of areas, one hassock followed another, causing her to squirm and dance about while a natural spring of giggle and squeals erupted past her lips ; hands covering up the growing flush on her glistening skin.

When my clapper slid within those magical depths, savoring the taste of chassis and intermixture of textures, the heat of her body and scents mixing one into another with the tread of a coursing river, her hips swayed about, back arching to the paradise and her hands flying down to catch my drumhead, firmly holding me in place.

I had to pull my way up enough to contain a intimation before she shoved me back down yet again.

For a moment I could see my tombstone, engraved upon its marble surface the discussion :

"He died pleasing a goddess made flesh ; at least there was a smile on his face."

As my succour reached the hidden orbit oceanic abyss within, that one localization bringing maximum pleasure to all women, she thrust one leg straight out against the unit of shelf I use for record book storage ; it promptly collapsed into a cumulus of wreckage with a crash both of us ignored.

More and Sir Thomas More my exploration and ministration flowed into a series of letter styles across the alphabet and varying in amphetamine and violence ; I just wanted now and always to draw every ounce of wonder and passion I could of Jasmine before anything else happened…

Such as the chair sliding out from under me, leaving gravity briefly in command of my destiny until the floor rushed up to smack solidly into my body ; the chair rolled with some force play backwards, bouncing off the bulwark and into a nearby cloths single-foot, which promptly toppled over into another, and a chain reaction commenced across the store…half the racks collapsing or toppling over by the time it ended.

As I climbed back up to my knees, looking at the utter ravaging, then back to her, she giggled and covered her sassing with one deal, giving off a balmy"Oops !"

"Yeah, big Oops,"I said to her.

She got up off the desk and stood there for a minute of arc not saying anything. I finally climbed up, figuring the mood was done for - the destruction of a shop can cause that force on a night of confidant activity between two people…

"wellspring Jasmine I guess that means…"I could not get the following row out of my mouth other than as a mixture of squeals and pealing as she moved up right hand next to me, one hand pressing the small of my back while the other slid down my britches, and commenced to massage my humanity along its broad sphere ( with the smallish size of it that is of path not saying much ).

I just looked at her with a sheepish grin on my face as her ministration threatened to get off me into instant and everlasting meltdown.

Of their own accordance, my trouser had sauntered downward, until they fell away to spend a penny around my mortise joint.

She giggled and looked into my center, her own showing laughter and heat mixing in their depths.

======
She guided me to the desk, gently having me lean upon it as she went to her knees ; easing off my shoes and the surrounding britches, then my underpants.

Her hands came back to persist in their joyous ministrations of my manhood, each campaign sending a series of thundering, pounding, pulsating and electrifying sensations into my brain. My middle felt like they would baffle over to the early socket and continue veracious out of my auricle, which had to have grass bellowing out in columns for anyone to smell and see.

It took every bit of ascendency I had left to keep from hitting my release then and there ; especially when those voiced rim closed about it, the warmth of her back talk adding more than and Thomas More to my own as she teased away upon it. I heard and felt my breathing becoming deeply and faster, the sounds of a bellows being driven by a windstorm would go tame in comparability !

How long she went on for I have no mind, just my stallion humans came down to her actions.

The elbow room felt like it was spinning round and round, the phone of the rain and retorts of lightning palpitation and quaking the building ; lights flickering on and off with each finis strike.

I felt like she was drawing what remained of my mentality out of me ; one cellular phone and neuron at a time.

Move by movement, moment by here and now she kept me rightfulness on the border, until she sensed I could hold back no more and quickly lay over the desk on her stomach.

With no hesitation I slid my manhood deep into her body, feeling the firm holds of her muscleman, the warmth of them flowing into my own ; while I was seeking only to make the culmination close as long as possible for her enjoyment.

I kept pumping and pumping, until a breaker point was hit in which my organic structure started to shake and quake, the integral Wave of joy reaching new heights.

My roaring of passion soon were joined by hers ; as the two of us moved in a rhythm method that grew between us ; not hone but close enough.

She shouted something in her native language of Hindi, then again in another - I assumed sidesplitter of pleasure and intense passionate feelings that must be flowing through her at that moment.

Then she shouted out to me, loud and clear :

"inside me, do it inside of me Mr. Phillips ; do it inside of me !"

Faster and faster I continued pumping away, until the rail line was crossed and a scream of primaeval passion went roaring from my lips…

okay it was more like a scream of an airplane crossed with a broken down washer.

You get the idea…

Once, twice and a tierce clip my release hit, sending my living seed deep into her body.

My manhood promptly collapsed in and on itself, no longer needed and ineffective to perform for some time.

Jasmine hit her release at the same minute as my own, her body having shook with such force and excitement that the desk collapsed out from under her ; only a quick grab by me, arms around her waist and chest kept her from falling onto it.

She turned around and looked at me, a smile of contentment and wonderment on her face. For a second her regard went downward to her thigh, which I saw had a tincture of my life seed mixed with her release flowing downward.

"I'm sorry about the store Mr. Phillip's, I did not ever imagine such a lot could pass off from our fun tonight ; how much is this going to cost me to get it fixed ?"

I saw the net headache in her eyes, the anticipation of some outrageous amount, or some kind of effusion on my part.

"I don't know ; my insurance should cover most of it, just going to demand a few days to get everything back in one small-arm before I can give again. All of that job being lost will be a trouble with my bills coming due in the future calendar week or so,"I had to shake my mind as I gathered up my britches, wondering if this was the end of my business.

"Mr. Phillip's, let me cook a nimble call…"she went to her purse and stood there, debating with someone on the former end of her prison cell phone ; mind you she was still in her birthday suit, so I got a grand appearance of her every move as I got dressed again.

In the end she smiled at me, holding up a"V"for victory sign.

"Mr. Phillip's my mother will treat everything that needs fixing and your business passing ; her secretarial assistant Miss Shannon will be here in the morning to make an initial estimate with you."

"Where does your mother get that kind of money from ?"Was she truly the daughter of a Maffia Godfather ? Or yet unsound, A Cosa Nostra Godmother ; one who knows my address now and will ask due recompense in the most painful and last of sadistic means for a bit of company with her daughter ?

Or will the Godmother simply experience it be the usual - cementum shoe and chains, then a legal brief car ride to the wharfage and into the sea I go…

"Oh I forgot to say you, she is the diplomatic envoi to the UN down the street for India,"she showed me her own diplomatic strait that confirmed the story. I just kept shaking my heading in disbelief ; it's much uncollectible than her being the daughter of a Mafia Godmother !

Many, many times worse ! Her female parent is a diplomat at the UN of all things ! ! !

I looked at the door, expecting her bodyguards or bravo dispatched by her mother to get along in and sweep her away to safety, while reducing me and my workshop to a mound of smoldering ignition after introducing me to all manner of delightful tortures to insidious and hideous to contemplate…

Her gentle, bubbling laughter snapped me back to the here and now. Obviously she gets my form of reaction with a lot of normal multitude."Mr. Phillips my mother does not deliver masses ‘ taken care of'like in those dotty movies you Americans love so much ; too mussy. I stay out of that stuff and nonsense when I can, I prefer the American language way of having fun - tonight I went to an ‘ old manner bacchanal of 1969'and thoroughly enjoyed myself."

"Oh and Mr. Phillip's I want to thank you for reading that book on your desk ; it's not the best fiction in the humanity I know, but mother wrote it and I told her you liked it."Her smile was one of genuine mischief-making, which let me know how horrendous the book really reads.

"Tell you what Mr. Phillip's, for my voice, I will not only narrate my champion to come here for the respectable scrubs around ; I will come by each night and bed you, for as long as you want, as many times each night that you want, and you can cum inside me. How does that sound Mr. Phillip's ?"she asked.

I agreed to it, and as she got dressed, preparing to head menage for the night ; she mentioned in passing that she will have some champion with her the future evening for our"fun"after the workshop closes. I wondered if the building would even live ; let alone be standing if another such nighttime is held in the place…of class it would be fun to get hold out ! ! !


( fin. )