PerfectStranger
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Perfect free porn video
PERFECT
by BobH
(c) 2011
A lot of beautiful women work in the London offices of the Buffington
Group, and in the year since I moved here from my hometown of Leeds I've
had most of them. And why not? I'm young, good-looking, have the gift of
the gab, and I'm a total pussyhound. If you could get women to open their
legs for you as easily as I can, you'd be a pussyhound as well. It didn't
hurt that the only other guy in my department was gay. The thought of all
that playing with someone else's cock made me shudder, but to each their
own I suppose.
Amazingly, I'm still friends with most of the women I've slept with, too.
That's because while I might love pussy, I also like women as people.
That's a rarer combination than you might expect, and women appreciate
it. As many women as I've had however, there's one first meeting I'll
never forget. We were introduced by my supervisor, Melanie, who was one
of my first conquests after I moved here.
"There's someone I'd like you to meet, Dave," she said.
I looked up from the old accounts ledger I was poring over and there she
was, one of the prettiest girls I'd ever seen, her big blue eyes, full
red lips and tiny nose framed by the thick mass of blonde curls that
cascaded down over her shoulders. She was wearing a deceptively simple
summer dress that I could tell was a designer original, and she looked to
be about nineteen.
"This is Ashley," said Melanie as I rose to my feet, "Ashley, this is
Dave Parker."
"Pleased to meet you, Ashley," I said, offering my hand.
"And you, Dave," she said, shaking it daintily. Her accent was American
southern. That's when the penny dropped.
"Wait, you're Ashley Buffington," I said, "the big boss's daughter!"
The corporate headquarters of the Buffington Group were in Atlanta,
Georgia, and it was from there that Lafayette J. Buffington III ruled his
global empire.
"Guilty as charged," she said, smiling shyly. "Daddy thought I should
spend some time in the London office and 'learn the ropes'."
"I'd be happy to show them to you," I said, before cheekily adding: "or
anything else you want to see."
Melanie frowned at me, but Ashley gave me that shy little smile again and
said:
"I think I'd like that, Dave."
Melanie then steered Ashley away to meet the rest of the office, and I
watched her go rather wistfully. She had one of those thin, willowy
figures teens often have, and her dress had revealed just enough cleavage
to have me happily contemplating what it would be like to bury my face
between her firm, round breasts. She was like fresh fruit, ripe and ready
to be plucked from the branch by yours truly.
Melanie came by again later, and regarded me disapprovingly.
"It seems that Ashley is no more immune to your bad boy charm than any
other woman with a pulse," she said, "and she's asked that you be the one
to show her around."
"What can I say?" I grinned. "When you've got it you've got it."
"Yes, but what you won't be 'getting' is Ashley herself. She's signed one
of those nauseating 'purity' pledges they're big on in the American Bible
Belt and has committed herself to staying a virgin until her wedding
night. I know you'll just see something like that as a challenge, Dave,
but don't forget who she is. Deflowering the boss's daughter probably
wouldn't be the best career move you could make."
"Okay, okay, I get it!" I said. "No trying to get into Ashley's panties.
Miss Buffington's tight little pussy is off-limits."
"And don't you forget it."
The thing is, being told something is off-limits tends to just make me
want it more. But Melanie was right. I had to be adult about the
situation, show restraint, and keep my dick in my pants, all things at
which I had had very little practice. I was wrestling with this when I
picked Ashley up at her hotel at seven a.m. that evening. I was sitting
in the lobby when the lift doors opened and there she was, a vision of
loveliness. She was wearing a darker dress than earlier, and slightly
more elaborate make-up, and she gave the biggest grin on seeing me. There
was something genuine and unaffected about Ashley, something that grin
epitomised, and I liked it.
"So, ready for a night on the town?" I said, offering her my arm.
"Oh yes!" she said, taking it. "Let's have some fun!"
London on a warm clear evening in June can be a magical place. We walked
along the Embankment to the Houses of Parliament, talking all the while.
I showed her Downing Street ("That's where your Prime Minister Lives? But
it looks so small!"), then we took a leisurely stroll through St.James's
Park and on to Buckingham Palace, talking all the while. Ashley was very
easy to talk to. She told me all about her horses back home and her love
of riding, about having the world's largest Barbie collection containing
just about every limited edition doll ever released, and about her
addiction to shoes.
"I'm afraid Imelda Marcos has nothing on me!" she giggled.
She was utterly delightful and I found myself enjoying her company
without most of my attention being focussed on how I was going to get
into her panties, which was a new experience for me. Of course, this
attitude was a bit harder to maintain when, later that evening, we went
clubbing. As sweet and demure as Ashley might be most of the time, she
danced with total, wild abandon. By the end of the evening, I wanted her
so badly it was physically painful.
Afterwards I walked Ashley back to her hotel, fully prepared to make a
move on her and to hell with Mel's warning not to deflower the boss's
daughter. Yet a strange thing happened. At the door to her hotel room she
turned to face me and once again she was the shy, demure Ashley I had
been introduced to earlier that day. I still wanted her, but looking into
those beautiful blue eyes of hers I knew I wanted more.
"Thank you for a perfectly lovely evening, Dave," she said, giving me a
quick peck on the cheek. And then she was gone and I was left staring at
the door to her room in confusion. I had not made a move on her, and yet
I was giddily, stupidly happy. What was happening to me?
Yeah, okay, I know. How could I not know I was falling for her, right? In
my defence, I had never fallen for a woman before and so I didn't
recignise what I was feeling for what it was. I like woman, I enjoy their
company, and I had been very fond of all my lovers. But I had never felt
something like this for any of them. And I won't deny that I ached to
have sex with her. Her purity pledge seemed beyond ludicrous to me, but
it was important to her so I respected it and didn't try to get into her
panties or even try any heavy petting. I was the perfect gentleman and,
yes, that surprised me too.
Over the following weeks we became inseperable. I was completely smitten
with Ashley, totally bewitched by her and, inevitably, I eventually
popped the question one night at a restaurant.
"Ashley," I said, going down on one knee, and taking the ring from my
pocket. "Will you marry me?"
She squealed delightedly.
"Oh my darling, darling Dave!" she said. "I want to say 'yes', and I
will, but first you have to ask my father for my hand. He's very old-
fashioned that way."
"Do you think he'll approve of me?" I asked, a bit non-plussed by this
unexpected development.
"Of course he will," she said, "what's not to like? You're intelligent,
well-mannered, and you make me very, very happy. He'll love you!"
I wasn't quite as convinced as Ashley, but nevertheless one week later I
found myself in her father's den in the Buffington family mansion in
Atlanta. We had just eaten the best meal I'd had in my life, served amid
astonishing opulence. The ladies - Ashley and her mother -had gone out
onto the verandah for some girl talk, while we men had retired to the den
for brandy and cigars. The den was all dark wood panelling and deep
leather chairs. Over a gun rack on one wall hung framed photos of Ronald
Reagan and John Wayne.
"So," said Lafayette Buffington III, playing the flame of the lighter
over the end of his cigar and puffing it into life, "you want to marry my
daughter."
"Yes sir, I do. We love each other and I believe I could make her very
happy."
"Son, if I didn't believe that too you wouldn't be here," he replied.
"But my li'l girl is the apple of my eye and I needed to take the measure
of you for myself. Then there's the family fortune to consider."
I had been expecting this.
"I was assuming I'd have to sign a pre-nup," I said, "so it gets
protected in the event we divorce - not that I can imagine that ever
happening."
He looked me in the eye appraisingly.
"In many ways, I'm kinda old-fashioned," he said, "and I don't really
hold with pre-nups. Seems to me they damage the romance between two
people."
I was surprised by his declaration. This was a remarkably sentimental
view for a hard-headed businessman to take.
"No, I prefer to ensure that the marriage won't break-up, and as it
happens I can do that."
He went over to a small wall safe, opened it with a key he kept on the
other end of his fob watch chain, and took out a small crystal decanter
filled with a pale green liquid. He poured some into a whisky glass and
held it out to me.
"Over the years my business dealings have taken me to some strange places
and I've learned there are things in this world that exist despite most
people not believing in them, such as magic. Drink this elixir, into
which a drop of Ashley's blood has been mixed, and she will be your ideal
woman always. You will never think of leaving her because no other woman
will ever be able to compete with her for you affections because she will
be in every respect - mental, physical, emotional - your perfect
partner."
"I've no intention of ever leaving her," I said, vaguely uneasy at the
idea of the elixir.
"Then you won't have any objection to drinking it," he said. "I don't ask
for a pre-nup, but if you want to marry my daughter I do ask for this. So
what's it to be?"
I thought for a moment, then reached out and took the glass from him. I
threw back the elixir in a single gulp. It tasted faintly of pineapples
and elderflower.
"Good, good," he said, patting me on the back approvingly. "Let's finish
our cigars and rejoin the womenfolk. We've got us a wedding to start
planning."
Three weeks later Asley and I were married in the grounds of the mansion
watched by a guest list that included an ex-President, several A-list
Hollywod stars, and many of the most powerful businessmen in America. The
bride looked absolutely stunning, of course, the wedding dress costing
more than I made in a year and with hair and make-up done by the top
names in the country.
After the "I do's" came the reception dinner, the partying, and more
dancing than seemed possible. Eventually, my feet killing me, I suggested
to Ashley that we slip away. A suite of rooms had been prepared for us on
the top floor of the mansion and I was eager to get her alone and for us
to cosummate our union.
As is traditional, the groom carried the bride across the threshhold and
into the suite, the bride letting out a squeal that turned into delighted
laughter.
"It's finally time, my darling!" said Ashley, giving me a long kiss, our
lips never parting as, standing before me, her arms around my waist, she
pressed herself to me and ground her body against mine.
"Whoa!" I said, gently disengaging but now fully aroused. "Do you have
any idea what you do to me?"
"Yes," she said, laughing. "And now I finally get to put it into
practice."
So saying, she slowly, seductively lifted the skirt of her wedding dress
and I watched entranced as inch by inch her spectacular legs were
revealed. I ran my eyes up them appreciatively, starting at her Jimmy
Choo's with their four inch heels, then progressing along her cream silk
stockings - a frilly garter around one thigh - onto the soft inviting
flesh at the top of those stockings, and beyond.
"You're not wearing any panties," I said, smiling.
"That's right," she said, reaching out and undoing the belt on my
trousers, "and I'm very, very turned on."
"God, I've wanted to do this for so long!" she said, pulling down my
trousers and my underpants while I threw off my jacket and shirt. "Turn
around, my love."
I did as she asked, bending over the table, gasping slightly as she
worked the cool lube into my anus. She was gentle at first, slowly easing
the head of her penis into me, but as soon as she was comfortable with
how my anus felt around the shaft she grasped my hips with surprising
firmness, her long painted nails digging into my flesh, and rammed
herself inside me, pumping away with increasing speed and force.
"Oh yes, baby, yes!" she cried, as her thrusts became more urgent,
letting out a womanly scream when she finally came then collapsing over
me gasping, her bridal veil falling forward and brushing my naked back.
"That. Was. Amazing." she gasped. "It was all I'd always dreamed it would
be, and more!"
A few minutes later, I took her in my mouth for the first time, sucking
out the last drops, and she stroked my head lovingly.
"Oh my darling, darling David!" she said. "My gorgeous, exciting, bad
boy! You're all any girl could want in a man and I love knowing that
whenever I'm horny - and I'm going to get very, very horny - you'll lower
your pants and offer yourself for my pleasure, or drop to your knees and
give me oral relief."
"I'm so glad I waited until I met you, my love," she said, sighing
happily. "You're going to be the perfect husband!"
The End.
********************
Note:
Yet another one completed as part of my new year's resolution to clear a
load of unfinished stories off my hard drive. This one was started in
2009, so it's one of the more recent ones. As a "set-up and punchline"
type of story it's short, sharp, and as usual with these I used some
misdirection deliberately left out a bunch of descriptive tags so that
even if you suspected where it was going you couldn't know for sure until
you got there.
Mikhaela
- 22.03.2020
- 22
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