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DOSTO AB AP NOS FARMAYE EK romentic STORY APNI SWETA RANI KI OR SE ,

ME JYDA BOR NA KARTE HUE DIRECT STORY KI OR LE JAUGI.

DUSRI BATE BAD ME KARENGE

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One of the major problems in my life is an irresistible impulse to fall head-over-heels in love with complete strangers. This may not seem much of a problem, but when you combine
it with a deep seated insecurity that makes me sure that they'll never be interested in lovingme back, it produces quite a few problems.The first is an unwillingness, or rather an inability, to express my feelings. The first time I
fell in love was when I was fourteen. It was with a girl who used to go to the school across the road from mine. But I couldn't even bring myself to talk to her let alone ask her out. We used to get the same bus home from school and I'd stand there at the bus stop trying not to stare at her. For a whole school year we stood there, not talking to each other. And to this day I have absolutely no idea if she had any similar feelings for me, or if she even noticed me.
The second problem is that I always pick a girl who under no stretch of the imagination would be the least bit interested in me. In my late teens I fell in love with a girl five years older them me. Today this would not cause me any problems, but the gap between a shy, immature eighteen year old boy and a somewhat more sophisticated, mature twenty three year old woman is quite large. She treated me kindly, I'm sure she was fond of me, but she had absolutely no romantic interest in me.
The third problem is that once I've overcome my shyness and I've struck up a friendship with the girl I immediately jump to the conclusion that she's fallen in love with me, despite
the fact that we might be having a very casual relationship from her point of view. In the normal course of events I can take it or leave it if somebody takes a dislike to me.
But once I've fallen “in love” there can be no alternative but that she loves me back. And if she doesn't seem to, well, I've got a vivid imagination and I can make no end of excuses to explain her behaviour. I can think of everything, but that she isn't interested in me. In between falling "in love", which happens about every three years, I have had more
normal relationships with women. Indeed I have many friends who are women, a few of them ex-girlfriends. When I'm not "in love" I can communicate quite well. We can go out on a date,
have a great time and end the night with a kiss and a cuddle. Sex was never a problem,
because we wouldn't get that serious in that way. And therein lies the problem. The girlfriends I could talk to, and have an honest and open relationship with, were the girls I was most likely to have sex with, but I had no interest in having sex with them. The girls I wanted were the ones I was "in love" with, and they were the ones I had no hope of making it with.
So at the beginning of this story I started out as a twenty four year old virgin waiting for someone to come along and sweep me off my feet on a whirlwind of passion and romance.
Someone I could "make a commitment" to and "share my life" with, someone with whom I could have sex with every night.
I met and fell "in love" with a girl who, for reasons of her own that I cannot tell you, had exactly the opposite problems with her relationships with men as I had with women. We complemented each other perfectly and produced one of the worst relationships ever.

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It started on a nice bright June evening at a meeting of the City Camera Club. A member of the Club, who was also a member of the Historical Society, was to give a guided tour detailing the history of the area surrounding the club's new premises. I was standing talking to another member of the club, while we were waiting for enough people to turn up for the tour to start, when I noticed a rather attractive woman come into the room. Something snapped in the back of my mind and I was "in love" again. I was began to make
my way over to her, but just then our guide for the evening decided that there was enough people to start the tour. He clapped his hands together to get our attention, asked us all to
gather around and gave a short introductory talk about what we were going to see tonight. Then he asked us all to move outside. As I turned around I noticed that the woman who
was to be the new “love of my life” had been standing behind me, talking to a friend of mine called Paul. I don't remember what he said nor what her answer was. But my heart jumped
when I heard her voice.

The only way I can describe it is as the cutest accent I have ever heard, but that doesn't convey the impact it had on me. For me one of the most important things about a woman is
her voice. I love accents and the way a woman uses words and the textures of her speech, all add to my attraction for her. And here was a woman able to sent shivers down my spine, even when she wasn't talking to me. Paul asked her what her name was and I heard her reply "Alexandra", before I got separated from them as the crowd squeezed its way through the door. Outside we turned right and followed the guide down the street. I watched Alexandra as she walked along ahead of me. She was wearing an orange track-suit type jacket, with faded blue jeans. And I thought that she had one of the nicest bottoms I'd ever seen.
We followed the guide around the corner and down a little alleyway. He stopped outside the gates of an old Jewish cemetery that I hadn't known was there. Unfortunately the gates
were locked so we couldn't get in to explore. But our guide gave us a brief history of it standing on the pavement outside. I noticed Alexandra sneak a camera out of her pocket and point it through the bars of the cemetery's railings. I walked over to her and reached her just as she was putting the camera
away again.
"Nice shot?" I asked.
"Umm, yes," she gave me a petite smile and I almost kissed her.
There was silence for a moment. Our guide had started to walk on and the group was
following him. She turned to follow and I walked beside her.
"So what's your name?" I asked, even through I'd heard her tell it to Paul a minute ago.
"Alexandra," the word danced off her tongue.
My heart was beating so loud and she spoke so softly that I had trouble hearing her.
"Alex?" I asked.
"I prefer Alexandra," she replied.
"Alexandra," I savored her name.
We walked in silence for a few moments. Then I asked, "So is this your first time down at
the Camera Club?"
"Oh, no. I've been to several meetings," she smiled.
"Really," I was surprised. "I must have been asleep not to have noticed you before."
She laughed softly. "Well, I've seen you around."
"Yeah?" I smiled at her. "Well I go to most meetings." I laughed, "Guess I must be addicted
to them."
She was a few inches shorter than me and as I looked down at her, she smiled up at me. Our eyes met and I was lost. There and then she stole my heart with the sparkle in her hazel
eyes.

The rest of the tour is like a dream to me. I have a hazy impression of the group following our guide around the streets and alleyways, stopping here and there to be told about the

historical significance of this or that building. But I judge the highlights of the tour not on the historical pedigree of the buildings, but how close I managed to get to Alexandra as we stood and listened to the stories of our guide. I remember talking to her, but I don't remember what we said.

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To my now jaded memory it seems as if I spent the whole tour running about the group trying to be as close as possible to her for as long as possible. The reason I had to keep running to catch up with her was because she kept moving away from me. It wasn't that she
didn't like me, or so I thought, it was just that she wanted me to chase after her. A thought to which I should have paid more attention.

But at the time all I thought about was being near her, to be close enough to touch, to talk and listen to her. She had an irresistible attraction for me, like a moth to a candle flame. And I circled closer and closer to the burning passion. After the tour a group of us retired to the pub as usual. Alexandra joined us, but sat at the opposite end of the group from me. During the night I switched from conversation to conversation, gradually working my way along the group towards her. But unfortunately I didn't get to her before closing time. For the next week I could think of nothing but her. When I went to bed my last thought was of her and when I woke she was in my first. The physiologists say that men think of sex once every five minutes, well I seemed to have changed that thought to Alexandra. At that time I knew that I was going to have sex with her. Now I know I wanted much more than just sex from her.


It was a sensation of almost physical hunger. I wanted to touch her and see her and be with. To smell her even! I've never paid much attention to smell with a woman before. Except on the odd occasion when I meet a woman who seemingly uses a perfume designed to
fumigate the whole room. But with Alexandra it was as if I wanted to devour her with all my senses.
I can't remember what the lecture at next week's meeting of the Club was about. But I do remember the disappointment I felt that she didn't show up before the meeting started. However after the announcements were read and the meeting was concluded I turned to find her sitting in the back row.

I smiled at her and she smiled back. So I made my way over to speak to her.

"Did you enjoy the meeting?" I asked as I stood beside her chair.

"Yes," she stood up. "But I missed the beginning."

There was an electrical tension between us. I wanted to grab her and hug her, but I
couldn't.

"Oh, you didn't miss much," I smiled, while the smell of her perfume sent my heart racing.

"Good," she smiled back.

I couldn't think of anything to say. Or rather the only things I could think of were along the lines of, "Let’s go back to your place and have mad, passionate sex.", which didn't seem appropriate to either the location or the stage our relationship was at.

"I think I'll go up stairs for some coffee," she started for the exit.

"Err, yes," I replied and watched her make her way through the crowd.
Paul tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "Are you coming for a pint?"

Normally I would but today I wanted to follow Alexandra up to the coffee dock. "I'll be
down later, Paul," I said. "Tonight I feel like a cup of coffee first."

"You, coffee?," he faked amazement. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I do drink coffee on the odd occasion," I replied.

A few other people headed for the street exit. "See you later," he said and joined them. I made my way upstairs and got myself a cup of coffee. I saw Alexandra browsing through the couple of cupboards that the club stored its small library in. I went over and stood beside
her.

"Anything interesting?" I asked.

"Oh," she looked up. "Yeah, it's all about nineteen twenties fashion photographs."
She turned the book to show me its pages.

"Oh yes," I half turned and looked at the book. "They had style then, didn't they?"

"Yes," she slowly flicked through the pages and we looked at the old style glamour photos.

I was leaning back against the wall, but close enough to her to feel the heat from her body. As she flipped the pages she lent back and towards me, pressing her shoulder against my arm. I wanted to put my arm around her shoulders and hug her close. Instead I cleared my throat and asked,

"Do you want to come out to the movies with me on Friday?"

She looked up at me, "This Friday?"

"Well yes," I smiled.

"Well..." she hesitated. And my heart stopped beating. "I think that would be very nice."

And I sighed with relief.

"Meet you at half seven outside Eason's newsagents on O'Connell Street," I said.

"OK" she smiled back.

I almost left then, but Alexandra turned the page of the book and held it out so that I could see. So we stayed there for the next hour, flicking through photography books. Then Brian, another member of the club, offered me a lift home, as he lives out in my
direction. I hesitated, not wanting ever to be parted from Alexandra.

“Oh,” gushed Alexandra, “Do take your lift.”

So I said “OK.” And “Goodbye” to Alexandra, and took Brian's lift. And spend the next few days thinking only of Alexandra.

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TEL ME UR REVIEWS ABOUT THE STORY PLZ

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On Friday I arrived about fifteen minutes early and stood on the street anxiously looking up and down, unsure as to which direction she'd come from. Under the clock outside Easons bookshop on O'Connell Street is a popular place to arrange to meet. Firstly it is a well known
landmark. Secondly it is in a fairly busy and public place. And thirdly from the point of view of anyone waiting there are a number of buses that stop there, so you can pretend that people are not looking at you wondering if you have been stood up, and instead convince yourself
that they think that you are just waiting for a bus.

Then just as the clock above me began to chime the half hour I saw her walking up from the direction of Abbey St. My heart stopped.
She was wearing a blue cardigan with a matching cotton top and long, flowing skirt, with sandals on her feet. Her long black hair and skirt were blowing in the breeze and she smiled as she saw me. I fell in love with her again. She was just so beautiful it took my breath away.
And my heart started pounding in my chest.

"Hi," I said, restraining myself from grabbing her and hugging her off her feet. "How are you?"
"Hi," she smiled. "I'm fine." She shrugged, "A bit tired from work, but you don't want me to go into that."
I wanted her to go into everything. I wanted to know how she spent every minute of every day of her life. But I couldn't tell her that. So instead I just nodded and smiled.
"So," I gestured with my arm and started to walk towards O'Connell Bridge. She walked beside me. "There's a French film on in the Screen cinema that I thought you might like to see." I probably knew the name of it at the time, but I can't remember what it was now.
She nodded, "That sounds nice."
"Do you mind," I slipped my hand into hers.
"No," she smiled and squeezed it gently.
My heart leapt and my grin became ten feet wide.
"So you had a bad day in work then," I said.
"Yes," she sighed. "My boss gave me this load of stuff the other day, that he said he didn't want until next week. Then this afternoon he comes around looking for it and got really annoyed when I didn't have it done." She stopped herself and smiled at me, "But then this is
our first date, you don't want me bitching about work."
I just wanted to hear her speak, I didn't care what she talked about. "Not really," I agreed. It was a bit early for the film so we went into a pub for a drink first. I had a vodka, as drinking a pint before going to a film usually spoils the second half as by that time I'm usually dying to go to the toilet. She had a rum and coke. We sat by a window and were bathed with late evening light filtered through the frosted glass. The sounds of the city traffic could be faintly heard from the outside.

We talked about this and that for a few minutes. I was half turned towards her with my arm on the back of the seat. She sat close to me with her legs crossed and her hands hooked over her knee. As we talked I took hold of her left hand. She smiled at me and squeezed it
Alexandra down into her lap. We slowly finished our drinks as she caressed my hand in her lap and I toyed with her hair, rubbing it across her neck and shoulder.

We stayed a little too long in the pub and when we arrived in the cinema it was quite full. But we managed to find two seats together in the middle of a row that was not too near the screen.
"So have you done much writing recently?" she asked as we sat down.
I sat beside her. "No I seem to have a terminal case of writer's block," I sighed.
"Well I'm sure it'll pass," she looked around the cinema.
"Yeah. But I keep getting itchy fingers, and thinking that I should be at home doing some
work instead of being out enjoying myself," I explained.
"Well you might get some inspiration tonight," she looked back at me.
I laughed. "Inspiration! That's the last thing I need. I've got inspiration coming out my ears. What I need is to get some writing done. Not an idea for yet another story."
"Surely you need inspiration before you know what story to write," she said.
"I've got ideas for five novels and about fifteen short stories that I've haven't written. And
probably never will," I replied. "I don't need any more."
"Oh," she said softly.
"Anyway," I smiled. "Inspiration is supposed to come from inside me, or from my own
observations, not from copying other people's work. You wouldn't want me to plagiarize now, would you?"
"Of course not," she smiled back.
Yes I used to be that touchy about my writing. Then the lights dimmed and the audience hushed as the projector sprang into action.
"Do you mind if I'm assertive," I whispered as I slipped my arm around her shoulders.
"Please do," she relaxed against me.
Normally when I put my arm around a girl I rest my hand on the outside of her shoulder, because if you put your arm over her shoulder your hand almost inevitably comes to rest on her breast, which is usually a bit too forward for a first date. But with Alexandra I found my elbow came to comfortably rest just past her neck and my hand brushed against her breast before I knew it. I pulled it away and didn't know what to do with it for a moment. But Alexandra came to my rescue. She solved my dilemma by taking my hand in her's, so we were
actually holding hands and being intimate without me grouping her. Then she did something which I shall always remember. All through the film she ran her other hand up and down my forearm. Stroking the hairs on my arm and producing a sensation which made me shake with
anticipation. The film was a French romantic comedy about the director of a yoghurt company who falls in love with the cleaning lady at his office. She discovers a plot by one of the managers, who is also having an affair with the director's wife, to unseat him and take over the company. There was lots of intrigue, good one liners and even some social commentary, all wrapped up in a
fast moving plot, before we got the happy ending. All in all it was quite a good film, but it was turned into a masterpiece because I saw it with
my arm around Alexandra. As we were coming out of the cinema I asked, "So where to now, Alexandra?"
"I know a nice pub up towards where I live," She waved in more or less the correct
direction. "But I can't remember its name."
"That's OK," I said as I took her hand in mine. "Let’s go." And we walked over to the pedestrian crossing to cross the busy traffic coming down Pearse Street. We talked about the movie as we walked towards the pub, but by the time we reached the gates of Trinity College in College Green we'd both said how much we'd liked it a good few times and had told each other what the best bits had been and there was a lull in the

conversation.

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As we walked up Grafton St. I looked at a clock and realized that it was five to eleven. The pubs closed at eleven. I pointed this out to Alexandra.
"Don't worry we'll make it," she started to walk faster. As we reached the top of Grafton St. and crossed into Stephen's Green I became more and more anxious. I don't know why, I mean it wouldn't have been the end of the world if we
didn't get a drink.
"So where's this pub then?" I asked knowing that the nearest pubs were in Wexford St. or Camden St., both of which seemed a long way with only a few minutes to closing time.
"At the top of Camden St," she replied.
"Hold on," I stopped, and because we were holding hands pulled her to a stop. "Is it
anywhere near Cassidy's?"
"Cassidy's," she smiled. "Yeah, that's the place."
"We'll never make it," I said.
"Well where else can we go?"
"There's got to be somewhere down Grafton St." I searched my memory. "I know," I turned around and we headed back down towards Davey Byrne's. We rushed down and managed to get there before the doors closed. I asked her what she wanted and fought my way to the bar through the last-orders rush. I got the drinks and fought my way back out to find Alexandra had found the one remaining free barstool. As I handed her drink I realized that with her sitting on the stool I could look her straight in the eye.
I smiled at her.
She smiled back. "Cheers," she raised her drink and took a sip.
I took a sip from mine.
"This is nice," she look around at the décor. "Have you been here before?"
"Once or twice," I said. "I don't often drink in this part of town."
"Oh," she smiled. "And what part of town do you normally drink in."
"Well," I confessed. "It's usually Camden St. after Camera Club meetings."
We laughed. And as I leant forward I put my hand on her shoulder.
"So when's your last bus?" She sipped her drink.
"Oh don't worry about that," I wondered if that was a gentle hint that I wouldn't be going
back to her place. I sipped my drink.
"I'll walk you home if you like," I suggested causally.
"OK," she smiled back. "That'd be nice."
And I thought, Hey shit! She really likes me, then. I put my foot on the bottom rung of her stool and stroked her hair. As I turned to take
another drink and she ran her fingers across my head.
"Hey, it's soft," she continued to rub my spiky hair.
"Well of course it is," I said, wondering why she would think that my hair wouldn't be soft.
"I thought that you had gelled it or something," she continued, stroking my hair.
"No," I smiled. "It's all natural. That's just the way it grows."
"And the way you brush it," she moved her hand down onto my face. "Hmm, you didn't shave tonight."
"Yes I did," the sensation of her hand on my cheek was sending shivers through my body
and they all seemed to be gathering in my balls. "I shaved before coming out tonight."
"Oh," she said. "It seems so rough."
"I'm just such a 'macho' man," I smiled.
She smiled back. Then realizing that we were in a public place she snatched her hand away and took a sip from her drink.

We talked for another ten or fifteen minutes, but I can't really remember what we said. All I remember is the irresistible desire she held for me. There was a huge passion for her building up inside me. We finished our drinks and left. We were among the first to go after they stopped serving. I took her hand as we walked back up Grafton St. "So where do you live?" I asked, wondering if we were going to have to get a taxi.
"I live in Synge St.," she replied.
"Oh," I said, "just around the corner from the Camera Club."
"Yes," she smiled. "And my office is in Harcourt St."
"What?" I smiled back. "You only have a five minute walk to work every day."
"Yes, it's dead convenient," she looked at me.
"It's not some grotty little bedsit, is it?" I asked.
"No it's quite nice," she assured. "I've a very good landlord in this place."
"You mean you haven't always?" I teased.
"No," she replied. "I've lived in my fair share of grotty bedsits."
"And now you've found a nice place, that's convenient for both work and the Camera Club, you're going to settle down for a while?" I asked.
"Well yes," she sounded doubtful. "But you do get fed up looking at the same four walls all
the time."
"Oh," I asked. "Are you planning on moving soon?"
"Well, usually I do," she said. "But where I am now is so good I'd have problems finding another like it for the same price."
We continued talking about the poor quality of affordable accommodation in Dublin as we walked. I told her about my own experiences and pointed out that I had found it just as bad when I had lived in London. Then we reached her house. I thought that she might turn to kiss
me good night and not invite me in. But without a word she opened the door and walked in. I followed, closing the door behind me. She led the way to the back of the house to the entrance of her flat.

As you walked in there was a tiny entrance hall, where we hung our coats. With a door directly ahead that led into the bathroom and a door to the right that led to the main room. In the main room her bed was against the right hand wall, a small table and two chairs on the
left, with the kitchen set in an alcove "behind" the bathroom. There was also a couple of armchairs, some bookcases and a wardrobe crammed in.
"I'll make us some coffee," she headed towards the sink.
I sat on one of the armchairs and asked, "Do you mind if I make myself more comfortable, by taking off my shoes."
"No," she smiled. "Feel free." So I did.
She called over. "I won't need to put on a gas mask, will I?"
"No," I laughed. "I spend most of my day with my shoes off so there isn't time for the smell to build up."
We laughed and there was comfortable silence for a couple of minutes as the kettle came to a boil.
I looked at her as she moved in the small galley kitchen, drinking her natural grace: the arch of her arm as she reached up to take two cups from a shelve, the swing of her hips as she turned to take a jar of coffee from a press, the tilt of her head as she spooned coffee into two
mugs, her tongue caressing her upper lip as she was careful not to spill anything. The kettle clicked off and she poured the water into the mugs, giving each a quick stir. I watched her hair fall across her shoulders as she stirred. She looked up and I quickly looked away. She came over with two steaming mugs. "Here you go," she handed one to me.

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"Thank you," I took my mug.
"You’re welcome," she put her mug down on the floor. She sat on the floor with her back against the other armchair and kicked off her sandals. We sipped coffee and chatted about the films we'd seen and about photography for a while. She sat back and looked up at me. I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and looked down at her. Then I figured enough polite social interaction had passed. I put my half finished coffee down beside the leg of my chair where it wouldn't be in the way. Then I slid onto the floor beside her. I gently took her cup from her and put it beside mine. Then I slipped my left arm around her shoulders once more. She leaned into me and
turned to kiss. Her lips opened and I pushed my tongue into her mouth. She put her arms around me and I put my right hand to the back of her head. We kissed for a while, then I slowly moved my hand down to touch her left breast. She didn't object, so I gently massaged as we continued to kiss. A few minutes later we came up for air and I started to unbutton her cardigan. She smiled as I worked my way down the
buttons, then pushed it open and put my hand back onto her breast. I could feel the heat of her body through the thin cotton and her nipple pushing through her bra. She hugged me closer and we started to kiss again. I could feel her soft breast under
my hand, with its nipple rubbing against my palm. I could taste her as we kissed. Feel my arm around her, her arms around me, our bodies close. I was in heaven for the next few minutes.
Then she sat up and moved a couple of feet away from me to take off her cardigan. I knelt on the floor beside her and put my arms around her waist. She reached up to my chest and started to unbutton my shirt. She slipped her hands inside and ran them around my body. I leaned forward and we kissed. A few minutes later she was nuzzling my right shoulder and I was licking and kissing her ear. I was feeling decidedly heated and had developed a serious erection. Moving back slightly I pulled my shirt out of my jeans and slipped it off. She sat up, her
hands still on me. We smiled at each other. I started to take off my shirt and she took her hands away. When I'd pulled it off and tossed it away I noticed that she was looking at me with a strange expression on her face. I'm not exactly Rambo, I know, but there was enough
hormones flowing that it didn't make much difference. Putting my arms around her, I leaned close to start kissing again. She froze for a moment, then her lips opened and her tongue slid out. Her arms roamed up and down my back and we held each other close. I could feel the heat of her body as I held her. I could feel her breasts pressing against me as I hugged her. I could feel her arms on my naked body.
I pulled back. "So," I whispered. "Does this come off," I ran my hand along the neck of her top. She smiled and shook her head, "No."
OK, I thought this is as far as it goes. I was disappointed, but not overly so. I'd never had sex on a first date before and hadn't really expected to have it now.
I don't know if she was feeling adventurous, or if she just took pity at the look of disappointment that must have come across my face, but she added softly, "But it does pull up."
I looked at her and she smiled.
I said, "Yes?" and smiled back.
"Yes," she replied and pulled it out of the waist band of her skirt and up to reveal her breasts cupped in their white cotton bra.
I was mesmerized. Slowly I put my finger tips to each breast. They were so sweet. The skin so soft, yet the flesh firm underneath. I spread my fingers across them and pressed my palms against her nipples. Then I pressed down under and gently pushed them up within her bra. I
glanced up at her face. She was beaming at me. So I lent forward and kissed the soft exposed flesh. I ran my lips and tongue back and across them, then moved down to the cotton of her bra and kissed the nipples hidden below. She shivered in my arms. I hooked my arms around under her top and moved my mouth up to kiss her. As I opened my mouth her tongue slid past my lips. Her warm body was pressed against mine. Our tongues worked in sync. Her hands raced up and down my back.
My arms wrapped around and pulled her close.
Her fingers dug into my back and my face was buried in her hair. With my lips I could feel the heat of her naked skin neck and shoulder underneath the tangle of her hair. Her breath was hot and moist on my ear. We hugged each other as close as we could. Then we pulled
back to look at each other.
"So," I ran my hands across her cotton covered breasts. "Does this pull up as well?" I looked up at her.
She smiled and nodded yes.
"Yes?" I smiled back, gesturing with my hand.
She reached around and unhooked her bra. I ran my finger tips up from her waist and under her loosened bra to touch her soft, warm breasts. My fingers circled underneath the firm muscle. I ran my thumbs over her erect nipples and she sighed. So I pushed her bra up,
bent down and kissed her left nipple. I ran my tongue across it, next my lips, then I opened my mouth wide and sucked as much as I could inside. Her hands gripped my head and shoulder and she clenched and unclenched her fingers as I worked away. I switched from left to right breast and back again, using my fingers, and tongue, and lips in all sorts of combinations. Then she put her hands onto the front of my
shoulders and pushed me back. I looked up. She smiled at me. Then she pulled down her top and moved away to sit with her back against the bed.
"So, how far do you want to go?" I asked as I moved beside her and put my left arm around her shoulders.
"I think you better go now," she whispered.
I kissed her and she responded.
I thought; now don't do anything foolish to spoil it, Kevin. Just take it slow and gentle.
Don't push beyond where she wants to go. I had this fear that my desire would get the better
of me and I'd end up raping her.
I put my hand up under her top and ran my fingers around her nipple. She lapped her tongue inside my mouth. Moving my hand down her body I found her belly button just under the waist of her skirt. I rubbed my fingers in and around it, but she wasn't very sensitive
there. Our mouths and tongues still intertwined I pulled my hand out from under her waistband and moved it down to her leg. I felt her thigh under the thin material of her skirt. And as I ran my hand up and down I slowly moved from the top to the inside of her thigh. She let her legs
open wider. I brushed my fingers lightly across her crotch and found that she was very hot.
We were still kissing so I ran my hand back down the inside of her thigh and started to pull up her skirt. I pulled it up to reveal her knee and pressing my fingers against her skin pushed it right up to totally expose her leg and discovered that she was wearing white cotton panties.
All my attention was focused on her vagina now. I was looking down, so I know I wasn't kissing her. But I don't know if she was still kissing me, or if her arms were around me, or what she was doing. I think she was probably not doing anything.
I put my finger tips onto her warm, damp panties and felt her open lips beneath. I pressed my finger against them and traced her slit. She gasped. Taking hold of the edge of her panties I pulled at them, but there was no give. So I took hold of the top and pulled them down
slightly to loosen them. Then I slipped my fingers into the leg of her panties and ran them back down and under to touch her directly.
Her lips parted and my finger was inside her. I pushed my finger down and then back up to find her clitoris. Her mouth was on mine and our tongues found each other again. I pressed harder. She tilted her head back I gently chewed her throat. She sat up and turned to
face me. My hand lost its place, so I ran both hands up along her sides to push up her top and reveal her breasts again.
She leaned forward to kiss me and I cupped both her breasts. Her head moved in rhythm with my tongue, her body with my hands. Then I slipped my left hand around to hold her close and bent down so I could work both hand and mouth on her left breast. She leant
forward and I pressed my hand between her legs again.
I had my back against the bed now, so I just lay back against it as she started to rub herself against my fingers. I was in a sensual haze. All my attention was centered on the movement of her clitoris against my fingers. The smell, the dim lighting, the heat and weight of her
leaning over me was the background against which I rubbed her. Her rhythm stopped and she tensed and pressed down, her arm across my throat, as she tilted her head back and moaned.
Then she sat down on her knees in front of me and smiled. I let my hand drop and relaxed against the bed. I had the strangest feeling. It was a pleasant sort of contentment, as if I'd come myself, though I hadn't.
She slipped her bra straps off her arms, pulled it from under her top and tossed onto the bed. "That was the perfect end to a perfect night," she glowed. "Thanks, Kevin."
One word stuck in my mind, "End?” What did she mean end? Surely this was just the beginning? But she was so happy and contented. And it was such a buzz to have made her so, that I thought, let’s not spoil it by disagreeing. After all I didn't want to appear like I was one
of those guys who were only interested in their own pleasure. Which, by some strange altruistic twist of logic, I figured I'd be if I asked for it, even though she'd clearly come first and was showing no intention of returning the compliment.
It was enough for me to have made her come. It was the first time I'd made love to a woman and I didn't want to spoil such the event by ending the night on a sour note. It would have been nice to have continued and even spent the night with her, but I hadn't even
expected to get that far on the first date and I was more than satisfied. Having to ask for it would have ruined it.
I wasn't really thinking straight the fact of having made another person orgasm just blew
my mind.
"So you don't want me to spend the night then?" was the most subtle and diplomatic thing
I could think of saying.
"No," she giggled, "of course not."
But even though I was thrilled by having made her come I was still keyed up and aroused. And having the expectation of coming myself frustrated was hard to take.
"Come on get up," she pulled my arm roughly. "Up and out, Kevin."
So I had these two conflicting repercussions swimming around in my mind. On the one had I was over the moon that I'd made her come. On the other I was feeling dejected, and even rejected, by her not wanting to return the compliment.
Slowly I got to my feet and picked up my T-shirt. I pulled it on and she handed me my shirt. I buttoned it up and opened my jeans to tuck it inside and readjust my underpants, by this time my erection had subsided. I could feel her looking at me, but I didn't look back. I didn't want to leave, but it was preferable to overstaying my welcome. I wanted to ask her if she loved me. But I didn't speak. I wanted to ask her why she didn't want to do more. But I didn't want to appear to be asking for it. I wanted to ask her why I couldn't stay. But it was enough that she didn't want to sleep with me. So I pulled on my socks and tied up my shoes.

[sweta600]

She was standing against the table as I looked up. I smiled at her and she smiled back. I walked cross to her and put my arms around her. She hugged me back and we kissed again. I ran my hands down to her bottom, gathered up her skirt and slipped my hand inside her panties. We hugged tightly. Then she pushed back a bit.

I looked at her and she dropped her hand to my crotch and smiled. I mirrored the gesture.

"Do you want to go again?" my voice was hoarse.

"Oh, no," she took her hand away and stepped back.

"Oh," I replied and could think of nothing else to do but to get my coat from the end of the bed. As I put it on I asked, "Do you want to go out again?" I looked around at her, "Like tomorrow or Sunday?"

"Emm," she looked down. "I don't know Kevin."

"If you give me your number I'll phone you," I smiled. The thought of having to ask for her phone number after we'd had sex appealed to my sense of irony.

She hesitated, "Tell you what, why don't you give me yours and I'll phone you." "477217," I replied.

She turned to the table and scribbled on a pad. "OK," she straightened up. "I'll give you a call tomorrow."

"Do I get yours?" I asked.

"Well it's very difficult to reach me," she said. "Especially at work." She paused. "I'm in and out all day long," she added.
"Oh, OK," there wasn't much else I could say.

She opened the door and stepped into the hallway to unlock the door to her flat.

I walked past and stopped to kiss her.

As we kissed goodnight I squeezed her left breast with my right hand. It was a gesture to remind her of what I'd just done, and to say I'd be back. It was also a mark of ownership. It was meant to show that I was close enough to her not to have to ask permission now.

I didn't consciously think that at the time. Then all I knew was that I was head-over-heels in love with her and that she seemed to love me back.

As I walked home those two conflicting feelings of elation and rejection worked their way through my mind. I reasoned that she didn't want to make love to me because she was shy; she was probably as inexperienced as I was, but hadn't read as many books nor seen as much pornography as I had. Anyway the thought of having made her come just blew my mind. I knew that she must really like me, if not actually love me, to have gotten so intimate with me.
I got home and climbed straight into bed. The smell and taste and feel of Alexandra was still with me. And recalling the events of the evening was as pleasurable as acting them had been, with one important addition. As I remembered the feel of Alexandra in my arms, my hands worked my erection. I savored every little detail of my night with her. All my passion
came back renewed. And when at last I came it seemed to go on forever. It was the best masturbation I have ever done. Afterwards I fell into a contented and exhausted sleep secure in the knowledge that the night had been a great start to my relationship with Alexandra. It was only much later that I realized what a disaster it really had been.

The next day I woke up happy. So I've finally done it, I hummed, better late than never. I could smell her on my finger tips, even after I'd washed my hands. I was sure by then that she must really love me. And I thought that she must be as impatient to see me again and get
intimate once more as I was So I waited for her to call with a certain amount of anticipation. Wanting to hold her and touch her again. And wanting to make love to her again. To feel her come under my fingers again would be such bliss. I'm afraid I let my imagination run wild. But she didn't phone.

Then I had lunch and waited for her to call, thinking that she must be a late riser. Especially on a Saturday, when you've been working hard all week, you deserve a little lay in.

My dreams began to go a little stale when she didn't phone in the afternoon either.

Then I had dinner and thought well if we are to go out to night she must surely call soon.

At around about half eight or a quarter to nine that evening I finally admitted to myself that she wasn't going to call. But I knew she would have a very good reason for not doing so, though I couldn't think of any at the time. The thought that she didn't phone because she
wasn't interested in me began to occur to me. But I dismissed it on every occasion.

On Sunday I again got out of bed early and waited for her to phone. She didn't. She didn't phone in the morning, to perhaps arrange to do something in the afternoon. She didn't phone in the afternoon to arrange something for the evening. She didn't phone in the evening to
apologise for not phoning earlier and to explain that she'd been rushed off her feet all weekend by an unexpected visitation of family members. She simply didn't phone.

By Monday I was calling her "That Bitch!" and vowing if I ever saw her again I'd give her a piece of my mind and tell her what she could go do with herself as well. But I couldn't understand it. Why did she have sex with me if she didn't like me? And if she did like me why
didn't she phone? The thought that she might view our relationship in a more casual light didn't enter my head. It was all black or white to me. Either it was on or it was off. All or nothing. It just shows you what strong emotion can do for your tolerant, liberal ideas.

On Tuesday I got the shock of my life when she came up to me at the Camera Club and before I could say anything asked, "Don't you ever answer your phone, Kevin?"

I felt my jaw open in shock. "What?" I said.

"I was phoning you all weekend," she explained. "And you never answered."

"Never answered?" my mind had still failed to comprehend what she was saying. "What do you mean, never answered?"

She was getting annoyed, "I mean the phone rang and nobody picked it up."

"But I was home most of the weekend," I didn't say I'd barely strayed more than three feet from the phone. "And you never called."

"Your number's 477217, isn't it," she stated.

"No it's 477210," I replied, a glimmer of light appearing in the gloom. "Have you been phoning 477217?"

"Yes," she said. "That's the number you gave me."

"No it's not," I could see she was about to argue that it was. "But that's not important. I thought that you didn't phone because you didn't want to see me again."

She smiled, "No, don't be silly." She glanced down, "I enjoyed my date with you."

And I was on cloud nine again. Nothing could mar my happiness. She'd enjoyed herself. She liked me!

"Yeah?" I smiled back. "Do you want to repeat it again, say next Friday?"

"OK," she looked up into my eyes.

I looked down into her's and had a deep urge to put my arms around her. But I managed to suppress the impulse.

Then Mary and John came over to us. Mary glanced at Alexandra and gave me a knowing look.

"We're going down the pub," John said. "You coming along?"

"Sure," I said and looked at Alexandra.

"Yeah," she agreed.

[sweta600]

So we went down to the pub and had a drink. Over the next ten minutes more members of the club drifted in and joined us for the usual after meeting socializing. I sat beside Alexandra and ran my hand up and down her thigh. She put her hand on top of mine and left it there.

This physical intimacy with her sent my hormones racing. As I neared the end of my pint I whispered in her ear.

"So are you going to invite me back to your place for a cup of coffee?" I asked, half jokingly.

"All right," she smiled back.

I raised my eyebrows.

She laughed, "So do you want to come back to my place for coffee, Kevin?"

"That would be nice," I smiled back and quickly finished my drink. We stood up, said goodbye and left.

As we walked around to her flat I wondered what the others were saying about us. What juicy rumors would be circulating around the club.

The first thing I did when we got to her flat was use the toilet. When I came out she had made instant coffee for us both.

"How do you like yours," she asked.

"Oh, black, no sugar," I replied and took one of the mugs from the counter.

She put a drop of milk into the other and sat in one of the armchairs. I sat in the chair beside her. We talked for the next few minutes about this and that. Mostly about the lecture we'd just seen at the camera club. It was some guy who'd been scuba diving in the tropics with an underwater camera. He'd had some really stunning photographs to show. Then I decided to make a move on her.

Kneeling on the floor in front of her, I put my elbows on her knees and smiled up at her.

She lent forward, put her hands to my head and we kissed. I ran my hands up her legs and hooked them around her waist. I pushed up against her kiss and she slumped back in the chair. So I ended up leaning forward over her, with her legs to either side of me, resting on
my elbows. I put a hand on each of her breasts. Her nipples pressed into the palms of my hands.

I started to unbutton her blouse. She started to breath heavily as I worked my way down and pulled her blouse out of her jeans. I pulled it open to reveal her body. She had a light fuzz of dark hair around her belly button, but my attention was focused on her breasts. Her
nipples were clearly visible through the cotton of her bra. Leaning forward again I put my lips to each nipple in turn and sucked them, leaving two little damp patches behind. I ran my hands under her and she lifted herself up as I unhooked her bra. I brought my hands around again and ran them up and across her breasts to push her bra clear.

Now I could lick and suck her nipples directly, which I did for what seemed like ages. I rubbed and caressed one breast with my hand as I licked and sucked the other. Then I'd switch and rub my warm saliva into her soft skin with my fingers as I licked and sucked the
other breast.

Then my knees and back began to complain so I straightened up and sat back on my heels, smiling up at Alexandra. She smiled back and slid off the chair to sit on my lap, her legs pressing against my hips. I reached up to her shoulder and started to push her blouse down.

"No," she said. "I don't want to take it off."

"How about your bra?" I asked.

"OK," she smiled and pushed the strap down her sleeve and hooked it under her arm. Then repeated it with the other strap and arm and threw the bra onto the bed. I was mesmerized by the movement of her breasts as she breathed in and out. Slowly I bent down to lick and kiss
and suck them again. She started to lick and suck my ears and after ten minutes of that I wasvery hot and very hard.
I sat back and pulled my shirt off. Then I reached down and undid her jeans. She brought her legs up and started to take off her shoes. As she took of her right shoe and stocking I took off her left.

Then I reached inside her jeans and ran my hands around to her bottom. She put her elbows onto the chair and lifted herself a few inches. So I pulled her jeans down around her thighs. I put her leg across my lap and pulled it out of her jeans. Then did the same with the
other, and tossed the jeans away.

Her hands were around my neck again and we kissed again, while my hands ran all over her body.

I put my hand to her crotch and felt the damp heat there. "So do you want to have sex, then?" I whispered as she nuzzled my shoulder.
She froze. "What?" she asked.

"Sex," I repeated smiling, thinking that her answer must surely be yes.

"No, I do not," she pushed me away and stood up.

"What?" I was stunned.

"I'm not going to have sex with you, Kevin," she walked over to her wardrobe and took out a silk robe.

I didn't know what to say. There wasn't much I could say. It'd seemed pretty obvious to me that we were going to have sex. Suddenly when I mentioned it she stopped being interested.

I didn't understand why she'd do it last time but not now. But I couldn't think of a way of asking her without it turning into an argument were she would think I was trying to persuade her. And I didn't want that. So I started to get dressed.

Alexandra picked up the coffee mugs. "You didn't even finish your coffee," she said.

"Well it must be cold now," I replied. "You can't expect me to finish it."

"No. Of course not," she walked to the sink and poured it away.

I sat up on one of the armchairs and pulled my shoes out from under it.

"So do you want to go out on Friday," I asked.

"Yeah OK," she replied. "I'll be staying up this weekend for a tennis match I have on Sunday anyway."

The thought that she was implying that she wouldn't be interested in staying up for the weekend in order to see me flared in my mind, but I quickly suppressed it.

"Same time same place?" I smiled.

"Err, no, Kevin," she said. "I think we'd better make it a bit later. I don't know how I managed to make it last time."

"Eight O'clock?" I suggested.

"Make it a quarter past," she said.

"A quarter past eight's fine with me," I replied. I was overjoyed that she wanted to go out with me at all.
She stood across the room from me and watched me pull on my shoes. I liked the feeling of her eyes on me.
"I still haven't got over the way you tie your laces," she said.

I looked up and shrugged, "I didn't know that it was so unusual."

She walked across and stood in front of me. "It's weird," she said. "I don't see how they don't open."

"Well they don't," I bent down to demonstrate. "Unless you pull the lose end." I pulled the laces open.

She laughed.

"And then I'd tie them again," I said.

She said nothing as I re-tied them.

I looked up at her and smiled, "So you really don't want to have sex with me then."

She shook her head. "I can see than I'm going to have to play it very cool with you," she giggled.

I felt a momentary unease that she should use a phase like "play it cool". But I reached around her and hugged her, pressing my cheek against her stomach. "Not too cool I hope," I whispered.
She laughed and ran her fingers through my hair.
I didn't want to move I just wanted to hug her and feel her hands on me.
"Come on," she stepped away, "time for you to go." She walked to the door to open it for me.

I followed and as I walked passed I stopped to hug her again. She hugged back and we kissed. I stepped back smiling as I put my hand to her breast and squeezed it through the silk of her robe.
"See you Friday at quarter past eight," I smiled.

She smiled back and ran her hand across the back of mine. "See you Friday," she repeated.
I turned and walked out, confused and frustrated. Frustrated, because I'd wanted to make love to her and she hadn't. Confused, because I felt she'd rejected me by not having sex with me again, but then she'd kissed and hugged me, so she clearly hadn't rejected me. It gave me
much food for thought as I mulled over the contradictions over the next few days.

So once again I found myself standing outside Eason's on a Friday night waiting for Alexandra to show. I couldn't help wondering if this was going to become routine. If I was going to spend months, if not years, standing around on O'Connell Street anxiously looking up and down for Alexandra to appear. And if I was going to spend months, if not years, wondering how she felt about me.

Then she arrived. She looked gorgeous in the late evening sunlight, even though she was dressed casually in jeans and a red T-shirt, with a light jacket that matched. It occurred to me that she'd probably dressed up for our first date, but I as usual had just worn jeans and a Tshirt.
So this time she'd decided to dress more casual. I don't tend to dress up and forget that people dress to impress each other. I believe that a beautiful girl looks beautiful regardless of what she wears. If I think that a girl only looks good because of her clothes and make-up I
tend to be put off. Though it's not always possible to decide in the heat of the moment.
I wanted very much to hug Alexandra as she came up and smiled at me. But she stopped just short, so all I did was smile back and say "Hi."
"Hi," she responded and shivers ran up my spine.
"I thought we might go to another film," I suggested.
"Yeah," she nodded. "There's a good one on up in the lighthouse."
"Do you mean 'September Bride'?" I asked.
"Yes," she smiled. "That's the one." She looked slightly worried, "You haven't seen it already, have you?"

"No. That's the one I was thinking of suggesting, as well," I smiled back.