Loni
written by:
wantsomefun

It was the summer of '69. I was fresh out of college with a completely useless diploma in a major that had zero job prospects without a Master's degree. The amount of partying I did in college ensured that my grades would not get me into any kind of grad school, not that I had the self-discipline to do the work anyway.

Knee injuries from drunken college foolishness kept me out of the military. I moved back into my parents' basement and found a proofreading job at a printing company. Second-shift was fine. I'm not a morning person.

Neither was Loni. She started working there soon after I did. She was a typist, transcribing manuscript into primitive computer files on cassette tapes. When a typist finished a document, she would print it out, put it in a folder with the original manuscript, and bring to the proofreaders.

Loni was gorgeous. Fred, an older guy I worked with, caught me watching her ass one evening.

"Go for it, kid," he said. "You're close enough to her age. She's legal."

"Who is she?" I asked

"You don't know who she is? That's Loni Svensen. You know? LONI SVENSON?"

"Who's Loni Svensen?"

"What planet did you say you're from?" Fred laughed.

"You know damn well I live fifteen minutes from where we are right now. Who the hell is Loni Svensen?"

"I can't believe you don't know. She was high school Homecoming Queen last year, won the county beauty pageant easily, and placed second at the state pageant. She's working here, saving money to go to a fashion design college in Boston."

"She's really cute," I said.

"Cute? That girl was one unfortunate song choice away from competing for Miss America! Beautiful and sexy as hell are the words you're looking for. She's not dating anyone. There was a boyfriend in high school. The dumb shit cheated on her, so she broke up with him. She lives with her mom. I went to high school with her. Tried to get in her pants more than once. Loni's sexier than her mother ever was, and that's saying something."

"Way out of my league." I turned back to my work.

Fred spun my chair to face him. "Nobody gets laid with that attitude. Please don't tell me you're a virgin."

"Hardly. I had fun in high school and college."

"What? Twice? Once each place?" Fred teased.

"If you must know, I had a girlfriend in high school. We learned from each other. I had chicks in college, too."

"Ones you had sex with? And when you say 'chicks', you mean, what? Two? Three?"

"Three in one day once, and there were two girls who slept over pretty regularly. My roommate had dropped out. Two dorm beds pushed together gave us plenty of room. A girl lived with me in my room for a few months, and ...."

"All right, all right. Fine. You've been with girls. Were they sweat-hogs?"

"No! But they didn't wear tiaras!"

Fred laughed. "Loni's my daughter's best friend. She hangs out at our pool all summer. Pictures tomorrow."

"Why would you torture me? I'll never get to see her in a bathing suit in real life."

"I don't know what types of brain damage you suffered in college, but if your ears work, listen! You can get that girl!"

"That's insane. You're wrong."

"I'm not wrong. At least I won't be if you'll just fucking listen to me."

"Right." I moved back to my desk.

Fred grumbled, "We'll talk tomorrow, after 'show-and-tell'."

I dreamed about her that night. She and I could be work buddies, talking at breaks sometimes, but nothing more. Considering that it was snowing in my dream but was April in reality, I thought the dream might be a glimpse into my future with her. All right. I'd be thrilled with that.

Fred displayed an envelope when he came in that afternoon. "I'll show you these on one condition."

"What's that?"

"You forget where you saw them. My wife and daughter would kill me."

"What the hell is in that envelope?"

"Wait till break-time."

Loni wore a casual dress that day, one she had told me about making. Every time she leaned over my desk to bring me her work, I tried not to stare at her cleavage. I breathed her aroma, natural, healthy, a hint of sweetness, very feminine, but only mildly sexual - maybe the way a goddess would smell.

When she left the room, Fred said, "Five minutes till break. Get coffee while I find a table outside. Here's the money. God, she smells good enough to eat." He rolled back to his desk.

The break buzzer sounded. I made it to the vending machines in record time. Why was I rushing? If Fred had nude pictures of her, it would only make matters worse.

He opened the envelope when I sat down. "This is her mom, Camilla, the summer after we got out of high school, the same age Loni is now."

Camilla looked like Loni, with the same black wavy hair, but she was shorter, a little more Italian looking. It was a posed shot at the beach. Her suit must have been pretty daring back in the day, and she looked damn good. "Beautiful, just like her daughter," I said.

"Yup," Fred agreed, "but Loni's taller. Her height and her blue eyes come from Dad. His name was Peter Svensen. Big blond guy, played football in high school. We called him Thor. He died in a car accident, going for milk for the girls. Loni was three."

He pulled out another picture. "Camilla has a full-time job, and works Friday and Saturday overnight someplace else. She and my wife and I are friends from school. We used to babysit the girls, or Camilla and the kids would come to swim. They still come over most Sunday afternoons."

The picture showed a woman Fred's age, doing justice to a bathing suit most teens couldn't wear. It was obviously the same woman, the same beautiful hair, and the same slightly olive skin. This suit showed more of it - lots of cleavage, firm bare midriff, shapely legs and ass. Hot mama!

"That was taken last summer. The girls mean everything to her, so she's always spent all her time providing for them and making the best home and family life she can. I admire her, and I'd fuck the hell out of her. The next one is Loni's graduation picture." He handed me a standard yearbook pose. Her hair was styled simply, but it was still amazing, and her smile was dazzling.

Fred pulled out still another photograph. "This was Homecoming." A tiara was pinned to her formally styled hair. She was perched on the back of a convertible decorated with flowers in the school colors. She wore a blue formal gown, a shade that matched her eyes. The photographer was at the perfect angle. Loni smiled straight at me. "She made that gown from scratch. Drew the patterns herself."

The next picture showed a cowgirl, black hair in braids, belting out a song. "When was this taken?" I asked.

"Talent competition at the state pageant. Wrong year to do a song from 'Oklahoma".

"I'm not into redneck girls, but she looks great," I marveled.

"Swimsuit competition." Fred handed me a picture of Loni in a conservative but form-fitting one-piece suit. Her figure was more beautiful than I dared imagine.

"Sunbathing last summer." In this one, Loni was lying on her belly in a bikini. She had gathered the bottoms up into little more than a g-string, and her top was untied. She squinted into the sun, shielding her eyes with her hand. Side-boob competed with ass for my attention.

"My God, Fred! Why are you showing me these?" I asked.

"You're looking, kid. My daughter works second-shift too, so I see that every day." He handed me the final picture in the envelope. "No one knows I have this."

Loni was climbing out of Fred's pool, wearing a white t-shirt and knit shorts, sunglasses in hand, hair in loose dripping curls. Camilla was in the background, laughing. Loni's clothes were nearly transparent, and she wasn't wearing underwear. Her face looked angry. Her body looked like a centerfold.

"Holy shit," I muttered.

Fred put his treasures away. "If you play your cards right, you can get that."

"You're nuts," I snorted.

"Be friendly, but not too friendly. Smile when you see her. Don't drool. Let her think you don't really care about her beauty. Talk to her. Listen to her. Sit with her at lunch. If she's with other girls, smile, but don't interrupt. Let her make the first move," Fred counseled.

"Her first move will be in the opposite direction. I don't have a chance with her."

"Suit yourself. Someone should be tapping that. It could be you." He finished his coffee and took the envelope inside.

As the days passed, I noticed her more and more. Shorts weren't allowed in our part of the building. Women wore pants or casual skirts. Loni pushed the dress code with some hemlines. She apparently designed and made what she wore, and she looked fabulous.

I felt like an awkward kid. I hadn't been bragging to Fred about college. It was "the dawning of the age of Aquarius". If you had grass or booze, you got laid. That was then; now I'm a working man. Granted, living in my parents' basement, but I had hopes, dreams, and vague plans. None of them included Loni. That was too crazy. I was a work buddy.

One evening, the workload was light for both proofreaders and typists. Our manager asked for volunteers to work in the factory area of the building, shrink-wrapping magazines and loading cartons of them on skids. Loni and I, the youngest of the bunch, agreed to do it.

The machinery generated a lot of heat, so the dress code was much more relaxed. Most of the guys wore t-shirts or wife-beaters, and the few women wore shorts and tank tops. At break time, I took off my outer shirt. I had a t-shirt underneath, expecting to work in our air-conditioned office.

"Good idea," Loni said, dashing out to the parking lot. She returned with a bag and went into the ladies' room. I went to get us sodas, returning as she came back inside, empty-handed.

Her hair was held back from her face by a kerchief tied as a sweatband. She had a Led Zeppelin t-shit, slashed from the collar down to an interesting level, and cropped to show sun-bronzed belly skin. She completed her new outfit with a pair of tight, threadbare jeans, cut off so short the pockets showed in front.

Loni took dance lessons for years and competed in gymnastics in high school. She was strong, agile, and light on her feet. If it's possible to look graceful while loading bundles of magazines into a hot shrink-wrap machine, she did it. We finally caught up with the rest of the production line. I sat on one of the skids I had loaded, and mopped my brow with the tail of my t-shirt. Loni sat next to me.

"How long until lunch?" she asked, wiping perspiration from her face with her headband.

"About an hour." God, even sweaty, she smelled wonderful.

A tow-motor arrived with another pallet of magazines still stinking of ink. We got to work again.

Fred joined us for lunch. He kept giving me meaningful looks. I was afraid she would see him, which was the last thing I needed. She'd never talk to me again if she knew how hard I struggled to keep myself from letting her become the girl of my dreams. The realist in me told me not to see her romantically, or sexually, or in any other way but as a work buddy. Fantasy about her was stupid.

At the end of our shift, we were told to dress for work in the plant the next night. We were parked next to each other, and we talked for a few minutes before driving home.

The next afternoon, she appeared at the time-clock in a dressy blouse and a skirt. I wore cut-offs and a t-shirt, a bandanna in my pocket to make into sweatband.

"I thought we were dressing for the plant tonight. You'll roast in that," I said.

"No I won't. I made this outfit. It has a top and shorts underneath. I wanted to go shopping before work, and I wasn't sure I'd have time to go home and change."

We punched in and learned that we were doing exactly the same thing as the night before. When we got to our work station, Loni produced a hair tie and gathered her dark waves back into a high ponytail. She removed her blouse to reveal short top, displaying her tan, flat abdomen. Then she undid some fasteners on her skirt and stripped to a pair of athletic-style shorts, slit halfway up her hips. "I'm ready to sweat tonight," she said.

The large printing press near us that made so much noise the previous night was idle for scheduled maintenance. We were able to talk more easily than we did before, and we learned a lot about each other. Being with her made the work go fast. Still, I couldn't picture myself asking her out.

At the end of the night, we were told there might be some work in our regular departments the following day. If things were slow, we would spend our time in the back-issue warehouse, picking orders for individual magazines a collector or library needed. This area was air-conditioned, but we were told to dress for comfort, since we would be on our feet doing light physical labor.

Loni appeared the next day in a yellow sundress with matching yellow casual shoes. I was in khaki slacks and a lightweight polo shirt.

We were given order lists, mailing envelopes, and a cart stacked with empty bins. We found a rhythm. The break-time buzzer sounded before we knew it.

"We got a lot done. This is easy," Loni said.

"I wouldn't call it easy."

"Do you want to trade jobs after break? I can load the bins," she offered.

"No, I'm fine. I'm just bitching about being out here doing this work instead of sitting on my ass finding your mistakes."

"There aren't many," she huffed, pulling her pretty face into an exaggerated pout.

"No, there aren't."

"That's better," she whined, before she started giggling.

We were alone, with only an occasional person walking through the other end of the warehouse. At one point, Loni went into another aisle to start picking a new order while I finished packing the old one.

"Mark, can you come here?"

"Sure."

She was leaning against the wall at the end of the aisle. "I'm curious about something."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Why don't you like me?"

"I do like you, Loni."

"It's hard to tell."

Should I admit that I was becoming obsessed with her? That I saw her face every time I closed my eyes? That I was scared to let myself see her as more than a friend? She was so far out of range for me that I was trying to convince myself she wasn't desirable.

"Mark, do I have to make the first move?" She gave me a firm kiss and held it for a few seconds. Then she said, "I liked that."

"So did I."

"Maybe we should do it again."

I put my hands on the wall on either side of her head. The flecks of gold in her blue eyes sparkled in the dim light. I leaned in to her, and she pulled me close. This time, our tongues played, and I could feel her proud breasts against my chest, just as I'm sure she could feel my growing hardness. I was in heaven, my hands sliding down her back toward her ass, when we heard someone. We separated and made ourselves look busy.

We worked in silence for a few minutes. I must have day-dreamed the whole thing. This girl could not possibly be attracted to me.

Just before lunch, our manager's voice crackled over the intercom. "Mark or Loni, call 312." I picked up the phone and dialed. "Boss, it's Mark."

"How are you two doing out there? We have work for Loni."

"It's almost lunch-time. Do you want her back after that?" I asked.

"Yeah. Can you get to a good stopping point soon, too? We'll need you to check her work as fast as she can pound it out."

After lunch, Loni went back to her keyboard. I finished the order we were working on and returned to the office to start proofing her work.

My head wasn't in the game. I had to re-read some of her stuff a couple times, because I kept finding errors. Obviously, Loni was having trouble concentrating too. She made an unusually large number of mistakes.

Just before quitting time, I took the final corrections to her desk.

She opened the folder and shook her head. "Sorry. I'm usually much better than this."

"Don't worry. It's the end of a long work week."

"Mark, we need to talk. Follow me to my house after work. It's not far."

I had no idea what was going to happen as I drove behind her. I parked on the street in front of her dark house. She unlocked the door, turned on a single light, and invited me into the living room, where we sat on the sofa.

"I'm not sure what you think of me," she began.

"What do you mean?"

"That business in the warehouse. Let me explain. I never had much growing up. When Dad died, Mom had to support me and my sister. That's where Mom is now, at work. She's a good mother, and she's taught me that when I want something, I should go for it."

"That's why you entered those pageants, and why you're working to save for college," I said.

"Right. There are things I want in life. Some of them fall in my lap, if I'm lucky. Often, I have to work very hard. Sometimes, I have to take a risk. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"Men," she grumbled. "Do you want to come to my room?"

I gaped at her. In college, I got my share of pussy. Some of the girls were very cute. I never knew how I landed them, since I was an average college party boy, but I did. None of them held a candle to Loni.

She stood up. "I'm going upstairs. You can come with me, or you can lock the door on your way out. I won't think any differently about you at work, either way." She moved to the steps.

I locked the front door and followed her. Now, I saw her in ways that weren't about being work buddies. Nowhere close.

She turned on the light on her nightstand. Kicking off her shoes, she sat on the side of her bed. "Join me?"

I couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't completely stupid, so I took off my shoes and sat down next to her.

"Is something wrong with me?" she asked.

"No."

"Are you a virgin, Mark?"

"No."

"I'm not either. I had sex a few times with my ex-boyfriend. My only boyfriend," she said.

"What happened? Why aren't you still with him?" Inside I was smacking myself. I couldn't get it through my head that I was sitting on this goddess' bed, talking about sex.

"He got too serious. He wanted to control me, marry me and make me into a housewife and mother. I'm not ready for that. I'm going to design school. I want to be creative, make a statement, follow my dreams. He didn't get it, so he found someone else."

"That's too bad," I said. "I admire you for your dreams and your determination. You're going to be a big success." God, could I sound like any more of a dork?

"That's what I like about you. You treat me like a whole person, one that has something going on inside. Good grief! You're sitting on my bed with me, good old nice guy Mark, saying kind things to me."

"I don't know what to say to you, Loni. I feel like it's my first time talking to a girl."

"Then don't say anything." She pulled me to her as we lay down. Just before our lips met, she smiled.

I've kissed a few girls. Usually, when I'm lying down to kiss one, it feels really nice. This, with Loni, was just plain mind-blowing. In the warehouse, she showed me she could kiss, and I got an almost instant boner. Now I was aching hard again. I pulled her tight against me and rolled on my back so she was on top.

"Mark, I feel that."

"What?"

She ground herself on me. "That."

"You're surprised?"

She straddled me and pulled her sundress off over her head. "Yeah. I'm used to guys leering at me and acting like they want me. Most are complete pigs, which is why I don't date anyone right now. You never act that way. You act like a friend."

My brain was processing the sensation of her grinding on me in damp, white bikini panties, and the sight of her tan-lined body, with tits better than I dared hope them to be - full, round, carried high like only a young woman can, and topped with succulent nipples on beautifully round areolas, centered in triangles of pure pale skin. Finally, I comprehended her words. "I want us to be friends, Loni."

"So do I. That's why this might work." She pulled my shirt off and leaned down to give me her breasts. "I'll still try to see you as good old nice guy Mark, but I want you, at least once."

She climbed off and rolled on her side to watch me take off my pants. This time, when we kissed, there was nothing but my briefs and her panties between us. Our mouths locked. and I grabbed her breast lightly, palming the nipple. Her hips moved to mine, grinding her sex against my erection.

I abandoned the breast to fondle her ass. "These panties have to go."

She rolled on her back and lifted her hips to let me pull the moist fabric down. Her black curls were cropped and shaved to ensure that only luscious bare skin would show around the most radical bikini. She watched me comb her muff with my fingers. "Show it to me, Mark."

I yanked my briefs off. Her hand went to my erection, touching, fondling, not stroking, but teasing. "Do you have condoms, Mark?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, I don't know why I would think you did. Maybe we can still think of something fun to do."

"Maybe we can." I kissed her cleavage. Her clean, fresh cologne scent was stronger there. My fingers played with her curls as I kissed and licked softly, finding a nipple.

"What are you doing?" Loni whispered.

"Enjoying your breasts. Is that okay?"

"No one ever kissed me there before."

Her breathing quickened, and her hips began to move. I touched her moist slit for the first time.

She whispered, "Please."

Her legs parted. I cupped her hot sex in my hand, tickling the tender flesh with my fingertips. The middle one found its moist mark. She let out a little gasp when it first entered her. Slowly, it sank to the hilt in her grasping tunnel, and she began to stroke me.

My index finger struggled to join his friend in her velvet depths, and the clear syrup I leaked lubricated her hand. Our tongues wrestled furiously. Breaking the kiss, I sucked and licked my way down to her precious nipples again, my thumb finding her growing clit.

"Oh, God!" she squealed. Her head thrashed back and forth on the pillow, her thighs clamping shut to trap my hand in her special place until her spasms had passed.

"I want you to do that too," she breathed between kisses.

"What?"

"I want you to feel that good." She resumed her handjob in earnest, stroking me, fondling the head to smear new moisture around, teasing me with her fingertips, using just the right pressure and speed.

It didn't take long. "Loni, I'm gonna ...."

"I know," she said. She continued her stroking, spraying me all over herself. Spurt after spurt fired from me. Finally, I was done. We looked at the mess on her, ropes and gobs of cum splattered in her curls, in her navel, across her belly, and onto the undersides of her perfect breasts. She kissed me again, and said, "Don't go away."

The full-length mirrors on her door and in the hall let me see her at the bathroom sink. I worshiped her face, admired her breasts, and feasted on the view of her naked ass when she turned to get a towel. Just before she left the bathroom, she saw my reflection.

"You were watching me," she said when she joined me in her bed.

"Yes."

"Do you think I'm attractive?"

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and I love being around you.

"Then why didn't you ask me out or something?"

"I convinced myself that I shouldn't."

"Why?"

"I'm not into rejection."

"Does this feel like rejection?" She climbed on top of me and crushed her mouth to mine. My hands stroked her back and ass, her beautiful breasts pressed firmly to my chest.

"I wouldn't have rejected you," she sighed. "I've been attracted to you since I first saw you, more after we started talking to each other. You're not like other guys. You actually talk to me instead of just standing there looking at my tits."

"I didn't want to see you as sexy."

"Why?"

"Because then I would have wanted to go to bed with you."

"That's where you are."

"Yeah."

We made out for a while, caressing each other's bare skin and cuddling. I was in bed with a naked beauty queen, talking almost like we did at work. Eventually, the subject came to Fred.

"He told me you wanted to go out with me but were afraid to ask," Loni said.

"I'll kill him. He was pushing me to ask you out. What else did he say?"

"He said you were hopeless. Said you claimed to have had lots of girlfriends. He thinks you're lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Then why were you so awkward about it with me? Girls aren't supposed to be the aggressor."

"It's 1969, Loni. The rules have changed. Women are considered equal to men."

"Women ARE equal! But we're not used to having to ask someone out."

"Okay, fine! Would you go out with me?"

"Considering that I'm naked in bed with you, I guess I'll say yes." She touched my fully-recovered cock. "Maybe you can stop at the drugstore before you pick me up. I don't want to get pregnant."

She smelled of cologne, soap, and sweet pussy. I knew what I wanted to do to please her. Between kisses on her breasts, I asked, "Has anyone ever gone down on you?"

"No."

I kissed lower, my hands keeping her breasts entertained as my tongue caressed her navel. Further down I went, until my mouth was on her soft, black curls.

Her legs spread on their own. She jolted when my tongue first touched her inner thigh, and again several times as I licked and kissed my way up to the tender skin where thigh met womanhood. I licked the crease there on one side, then repeated the treatment on her other leg.

Without warning, I stabbed my tongue against her wet hole. Loni gasped and wrapped her hands in my hair. Not forcefully, not pulling - more like holding on for the ride.

I gave her the best ride I knew how to give, licking, sucking on her lips and clit, plunging my tongue inside her, savoring her. She moaned and gasped as I worked on her. When she got louder, I pushed a finger deep inside and concentrated my oral efforts on her button.

"Mark! Oh my God!" She climaxed forcefully. I struggled to keep my mouth on her, but I didn't stop. Her second climax could have woken the neighbors. This girl was everything I could want - breathtakingly beautiful, sexy, bright, funny, career-oriented, and a screamer.

When she was more-or-less done, I wiped my chin and started on her breasts again. She pulled me up for some intense kissing. "I taste myself," she breathed. "I need you inside me."

"I don't have condoms."

"I don't care. I want you to take me. I should be pretty safe with where I am in my cycle, but will you promise to pull out?"

"Yes." I knew how foolish we were, but I didn't care, either. We were going to have sex, relying on one of the most unreliable birth control methods of all time - the willingness of a man to pull out of a hot, wet pussy, just when nature says he should be buried deep inside.

As soon as I had answered her, Loni took hold of my straining manhood and aimed me. She was tight, as you would expect from a girl with as little sexual experience as she had, but so dripping wet that I was able to slide in without a lot of trouble. When I was balls-deep, she kissed me hard.

"Make love to me, Mark. Fuck me good and long. Make me cum on your cock."

I raised up on my arms so I could watch her face and her amazing tits as we moved as one. I couldn't believe it: I was inside Loni Svenson, one of the most beautiful girls in the country at the time. Me, Mark, the proofreader who lives in his parents' basement.

"Remember, you have to pull out."

"I'm nowhere near ready yet, but what should I do then?"

"I want it all over my belly. Let's see if you can hit my boobs again."

She wants to cum on my cock and have me shoot my wad all over her. How cool is that, coming from a beauty queen? I slowed down, made my strokes longer and deeper, changing my angle, working her. She wrapped her legs around me, pulling herself onto me, helping to bring us closer to the end.

It became an endurance contest. I wanted to be THAT guy, the guy who made Loni Svenson, first runner-up in the State pageant, cum on his cock riding bareback before he had to pull out. I wanted her to remember me for that, even if this never happened again. I raised myself up on my arms so I could look at her. Sweat was beading up on her high forehead, her blue eyes shone with want, and her nipples were like metal thimbles, her breasts bouncing with our newly forceful thrusts. I moved so I could suckle on her, and worked two fingers over her clit.

"OH, GOD!" she squealed, pulling herself up by my shoulders to bury her tongue in my mouth.

I managed to last until her legs began to relax. Then I pushed deep, slow, memorizing the contours of my goddess' cunt, bringing myself to the end. At the last second, I retreated and simply held myself, trying to control the shower. Loni watched, wide-eyed and sweaty, as rope after rope spewed out of me, one drop reaching her left nipple. I dribbled into her belly-button again.

"Wow, I'm glad you pulled out."

"Yeah," I chuckled. "I don't think I ever came that much."

"It seemed like a lot. Has it been awhile for you?"

"I live with my parents. What do you think?"

"I think we're going to have to get creative, because I want to do this every day."

"So do I," I said, getting off her sweat and cum-smeared torso and lying down on my back.

"You're helping me change the sheets after we shower."

"Ladies first."

She wiped the worst of the mess off her skin with some tissues, and stood up. "No, come with me. I've read about people showering together, but I've never done it."

I followed her into the bathroom, awed by her beauty. She was so natural in her nudity, so comfortable in her own skin, that she didn't seem to notice it very much. She sat on the toilet and started to pee, and then, embarrassed, forced the flow to stop. "What am I doing?"

"You've never peed in front of a guy before," I stated.

"No!"

"Should I leave the room?"

"No." She started peeing again, blotted herself dry, and flushed. "Oh, damn, I shouldn't have done that. Now we'll have to wait to start the shower, or the temperature will change."

"I can wait," I said, pulling her against me, ravishing her greedy mouth. Her fingernails gripped my buttocks as she returned my kiss. We held each other, our tongues at war, feeling, gripping, and grinding. Our skin was sticky against each other.

"The toilet's done," she said when we paused. "We can get in the shower now."

She picked up a clear plastic tube of the green shampoo everyone used then, backed under the water to wet her hair, and began to lather. There wasn't much I could do but stand there and watch, giving very serious thought to fucking her again right there in the bathroom she shared with her mom and sister.

Loni saw me watching her breasts bounce with the movement of her arms. She also saw me getting hard again.

"What time is it?" she asked.

I looked at my water-proof Timex. "Almost two."

"Mom sometimes comes home for lunch. You should be out of here in half an hour." She pulled me under the spray with her, and plunged her tongue into my mouth. "We don't have time to make love again," she said, rubbing her hand over my engorged shaft, "but we can do this."

Our hands gave each other pleasure again, and when we washed the evidence away, we dried off. I spent as much time as I dared watching my goddess prepare herself for sleep, kissing her, holding her, racing toward our deadline. I saw a pair of headlights turn onto her block when I rounded the corner at the other end.

The next day, Saturday, I washed and waxed my car, got a proper trim on my hair, and shaved carefully. I had decided to take her to a play at my old college, and to a party with some friends who hadn't yet graduated, kids only a year or two older than Loni.

We had a good time. She wore a new dress, one she had made herself. It was basically a wrap of avocado satin, gauze, and lace, stunning in its simplicity, amazing in its detail. She's repeated that basic theme many times with garments she's designed, but that night, she wore the prototype.

At intermission, she asked, "Do you like my dress?"

"I do."

"It gaps open at the top, doesn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad I'm with you tonight. I don't mind you seeing me."

We went to the party afterward. She came back from the bathroom at one point and said, "I need to talk to you."

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking her out into the hall.

"I was really looking forward to later tonight, but, well, I can't."

"You can't what?"

Her cheeks burned red. "I got my period. It's two days early. I wanted to make love with you tonight."

"It's okay. I don't want us to be only about that."

"Did you get condoms?"

"Yes, in case we thought we might need them."

"Are you squeamish?"

"No," I grinned. "Are you?"

We left the party soon afterward. Her mother was at work, and had said she wouldn't be coming home for her lunch break. Loni swore that her mother had never surprised her, from the time Loni was allowed to be home alone. When Mom said she wasn't coming home, she didn't come home. We locked the door behind us, and went upstairs.

Wordlessly, Loni undressed me, kissing and caressing after each piece of clothing, removing her own as she went. When we were down to my distorted briefs and her panties, she ground herself against me and kissed me as hungrily as I've ever been kissed. She stripped off my briefs and fondled my iron cock. "Wait. Please don't peek. I'll be right back," she said, giving me a squeeze and scurrying to the bathroom. I heard the toilet and the sink. Then she returned naked, carrying some old towels. "This might get kinda messy, so we don't have to do anything if you don't want to."

"I'm fine with whatever you want to do, Loni."

"Could we make love and then shower again? I enjoyed that."

I pulled her against me, my hands gripping her firm buttocks, and guided her by the ass to grind on my hardness as our tongues fucked each other's mouths. "Sounds great."

We spread the towels and lay down together, kissing, fondling, touching each other's skin. Loni brought out the best in me. I had to take it slow with her or I would have gone off way too early. Her hand was on me constantly, not trying to make me cum, just trying to make me crazy. I feasted on her breasts.

"What do you do to me, Mark? How do you make me want you this much?"

"What do you mean?"

"For weeks I've wanted to kiss you and have you play with me. I can't stop thinking about last night, thinking about what we did. You took me places I've never been. I want you inside me again."

I ran my fingers through her trimmed curls, touching the hood of her clit. "Let me get something."

"No. I'll never be safer. If you can stand the mess, I want to feel it all tonight. I want you inside me to the end." She kissed me passionately, pulling me to get on top of her, and guiding me to her entrance.

I pushed gently, her moist muscles relaxing enough to admit me. Holding her tight, worshiping her face with kisses, I pushed inside her.

"Fuck me," she whispered. "Do what you did last night, but don't you dare pull out."

We moved slowly, Loni responding to my pace, kissing, cuddling, and moaning as we coupled. I wanted desperately to bring her off, but I couldn't imagine how I'd last long enough. "I want to make you cum, Loni, but I'm so close."

"Go ahead. Just stay inside me. I'll try to get you hard again."

Her wet tunnel grasped me as I thrust myself into her. Moaning as our tongues raged, I filled a beauty queen with my spunk. With every pulse, I grunted, and she bore down with her internal muscles to coax more from me. When I was done, she smiled at me.

"That felt good. I've never had a man fill me before." She kissed me, and we wiped the sweat from each other's brow with our hands. "Do that again." She wrapped all four limbs around me and pushed her pelvis up, working me inside her.

I never really went soft, not inside Loni Svenson! She clenched her muscles, helping me to slide in and out of her until I was fully hard again, ready to pound her silly. That's what we did, and that time, I think I came harder than the time before. She climaxed twice, screaming her pleasure as she did, and when she knew I was close again, her nails raked my ass, holding me deep to bathe her cervix.

When our mutual spasms calmed, I rolled us over so she was lying on top of me. She sat up, giving me a clear view of her amazing body impaled on me. "Mark, I think I need to get in the shower real soon before we soak through these towels."

She got in the shower first, while I put the soiled towels in her mother's washing machine. Then, I joined her, still dumbfounded, living in a dream. This couldn't be happening. I couldn't be this lucky. Obviously, the man upstairs liked me.

As she washed me, I came alive in her hands. She knelt in front of me, bathing me, rinsing me, stroking me with her soapy hands until I was hard as stone once more, studying my erection that bobbed in front of her face. "My ex made me do something one time, but I didn't like it. With you, I think it might be different." She rinsed the soap from my cock and her hands, and pushed her wet hair behind her ears. "See if I do this right."

My very first girlfriend, years earlier, had made me love blowjobs. Oral sex was something of a rarity in those days in the circles I traveled in, so while I had sex in college, a lot of girls didn't give head. Yet here was my goddess, on her knees in front of me, the water cascading over her lovely back, moving her mouth to take me inside.

Her first lick on my crown almost buckled my knees. Loni bathed my entire penis with her sweet tongue, her blue eyes sparkling at me. She advanced, taking half of me into her mouth and rubbing her tongue on the most sensitive parts. I reached down to stroke her wet hair as she worked on me. There was no hesitation on her part, nothing to show she hadn't done this hundreds of time before. I had played with some slutty girls in college, but none of them had treated me so well.

Loni's beautiful face bobbed slowly back and forth, her eyes smiling at mine, her breasts mesmerizing me. Her one hand played with a nipple, and mine with the other. And still she bobbed and sucked.

"Loni?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're going to want to stop soon."

"I don't want to stop. Not with you." She went back to sucking, her hands now clenched on my butt.

The pressure built to an unbelievable level, the pleasure with it. I fought the urge to fuck her face, trying to stay still, to prolong the delicious agony a second more.

I failed. I could see shock in her eyes when I got even harder than I had been, and pleasure when I began to moan. She swallowed what she could, excess drooling from both corners of her mouth, still bobbing and sucking. When I moved away, exhausted and going limp, she quickly washed the residue from herself and hugged me.

"I told myself I'd never do that," she said, barely audible through the cooling spray.

"I'm sorry, Loni."

"Don't be, silly! With you, I'll do it again." Unselfconsciously, she washed her tender pussy, rinsing a little blood down the drain. "I'm ready to get out. The water's getting cold."

We dried off, and Loni put in a fresh tampon while I watched. "Will you stay? I can set the alarm for six to give us time for a quick breakfast, and still have you out before Mom gets home."

It had been a while since I had slept with a girl in my arms. It was my first time with a goddess.

Loni had made plans for Sunday, and I needed to mow my parents' lawn and do some laundry, so I didn't see her until I got to the time-clock Monday afternoon. She looked amazing, like always, and flashed her usual smile. It was like nothing had happened. We were work buddies again.

Fred came into our office a minute or so after me. "You dog, you fucking lucky dog!" he said from his chair.

"What?"

He rolled across the space between our desks until he was right next to me. "Details, kid. I already know some of it."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked. I decided to play dumb.

"You and Loni this weekend. She and her mom came to our place to swim yesterday afternoon. The girls were outside, and the adults had come in. I was headed out to the deck to start the grill, and I heard Loni telling my daughter that you amazed her. What did you do to that lovely body?"

"Why would I tell you anything, even if something had happened?"

"You owe me. I'm the one who pushed you to go after her."

"You're also the one who told her I was too chicken to ask her out."

"So how did you two get together? And what did you do with her?"

"Screw you, Fred. Even if something happened with Loni, I respect her too much to tell you."

"Hey, I'm just jealous."

It was a typical Monday, lots of work, lots of interruptions for hurried additions or corrections before going to press. I was relieved when the break buzzer sounded. Loni beckoned me to her table, where I drank my coffee and listened to young women chatter. Fred stuck to me at lunch time, sitting across from me at a table with three chairs. Loni took the remaining seat a moment later. Fred tried to ask questions, but we ignored them until Loni said, "Fred, you know I love you like a father."

"Yeah."

"If you were my father, I'd never tell you what I did or didn't do with a boy. Since you're not my father, I'll tell you to mind your own damn business."

Lunch ended in silence, and Fred and I didn't speak when we went back to work. Loni came in an hour or so later with some corrections in a folder. "You need to look at this right away, Mark," she said, and walked briskly out of the room.

When I opened the folder, I found a hand-written note. "I enjoyed the weekend. I'd like to see you again, if you want. Can you come to my house for lunch Wednesday around nine?"

I looked over the corrections, folded the note and put it in my pocket, and carried the folder to the person who needed it next. On my way back, I stopped at Loni's work station. "Lunch at nine in the morning?"

She laughed. "I was asking if you wanted to come to my house at nine. I didn't plan to feed you until later."

"I'll be there."

Monday night after work, I stopped at a bar and bought a six-pack to take home. I needed something to do to keep from thinking about her. It didn't work. Halfway through the last can, I fell asleep and dreamed about her all night.

Tuesday was the same. I woke up late, hustled through my before-work routine, and barely punched in on time. Loni was already at her work-station when I walked past, a large stack of folders next to her. It was going to be a busy night.

Fred was on his good behavior, grumbling his usual complaints, gabbing about sports, and telling bad jokes. It's his way of getting through a busy night. He let us alone at break.

As soon as I sat down across from her, Loni said, "I made something."

"Oh?"

"I'll show it to you tomorrow. I hope you like it. Oh, and I went shopping."

"For what?"

"You'll see." She wouldn't tell me anything more. "Stop asking questions. You're too impatient. That's going to make me impatient."

Lunch with Fred centered on one of their many spirited arguments about sports. Loni knew the stats for players I had never heard of. She was more of a sports nut than Fred, taunting him when "his" teams lost or one of "his" players was ejected from a game.

"You're wrong about New York, Loni, but that's nothing new. I've been trying to educate you since you were five, and you still don't know anything."

"Says you. You were the one who didn't know who hit the first home run at Yankee Stadium," Loni huffed.

I rang her doorbell at nine Wednesday morning. She answered it in a pale pink dressing gown, a creation of lace, satin, and gauze, and high-heeled sandals dyed to match. She shrugged off the gown, letting it fall to the floor to reveal a matching short top, patches of the same pink satin covering her nipples when she stood still. The short pants were made of the same materials. She turned to show it to me, model-strutting to the end of the living room and back. The backs of both the top and the shorts were sheer, almost invisible against her skin.

I followed her upstairs, stopping halfway to rip off my shirt while she gracefully shed her top. At the door to her room, she loosened the sash that held the shorts above her hips, and walked into her room wearing only her sandals. When she reached her bed, she sat on the edge and removed them.

"Now let me show you what I bought," she said. She rolled to her nightstand and pulled out a small package, opened it, and handed me the folded paper inside. "Read the first four paragraphs and tell me what you what you get out of them."

"I've used spermicidal foam before."

She took the paper back. "Over 99% effective if used according to package directions. Odor-less, taste-less, guaranteed non-irritating to sensitive tissues," she quoted. "Stays ready in the applicator for up to one hour." She put everything on her nightstand. "My periods are always short, so I'm nice and clean again, and we don't need condoms."

Many of our mornings were spent like that. Sometimes, we'd prepare and eat lunch in the nude, and then go back to bed, barely making it to work on time. Fred stopped teasing me about my shit-eating grin. Loni and I were a couple, spending much of our off-work time together. Her mother became very fond of me, and my parents fell in love with Loni.

I knew that Loni would leave town at the end of the summer. As work buddies, we talked about college a lot. She was anxious to go, excited to pursue her dream. I didn't want to miss her, but I knew I would.

We each had some vacation time coming. Loni wanted to go to the beach. As we listened to the the Beatles sing "Ob La Di, Ob La Da" on a transistor radio on the hot sand, she brought up the subject of her departure. "We need to talk about college again. I'm leaving in three weeks."

"I know."

"I'm going, Mark. I love you, but I'm going."

That was the first time either of us had used that word. Knowing that our relationship had an expiration date, we had an unspoken agreement to avoid saying it and to try to guard ourselves against feeling love too strongly. "It doesn't have to be the end," I said.

"You know that long-distance phone calls and letters don't really work, don't you?"

"They can."

"Don't do this, Mark. Don't make it hard for me to go. We can be in love this week, but soon I'll leave, and you may never see me again."

We made love morning, noon, and night in our motel room. We kissed and held each other as much as we could. We walked the beach at night, our arms always around each other.

It was the summer of '69.

*****

We wrote to each other pretty regularly that fall, calling when we could afford it. Loni came home for Thanksgiving, having turkey at noon with my folks, and ham in the evening sitting next to me at her mother's dining room table. We visited some friends, and late that night, I took her home.

"Will you come up to my room with me?"

"Your mom is home."

"We've talked. She loves you, Mark, and she knows what we mean to each other."

Somehow, we kept the noise down. Both of us knew it might be the last time we made love, so that's what we did, slowly, carefully, savoring every moment.

She put on a robe to walk me to the door, kissing me long and hard on the threshold. Then she stepped back. Tears were brimming in her eyes. "I'll always love you Mark, but we're not supposed to be together. Your life is here. I must go."

"I love you, Loni."

"Remember me, Mark, but don't look back." She closed the door.

*****

It was the summer of '79. I'd been married to Monique for nine years. We had a beautiful daughter and a handsome son, both of them gifted in many ways. Life was good.

We had no secrets. I'm pretty sure I knew the names of all Monique's previous lovers, and I was honest with her. That's why she had such a smile on her face when she handed me the phone one evening.

A familiar voice said, "Mark? It's Loni Svenson, well, Loni Davis now. Your wife sounds lovely."

"Loni? Is it really you?"

"Yes, a blast from the past. I survived college. I have my own studio and clothing lines, and I'm getting into the doll business."

"Good idea!" I said. "Monique showed me a magazine article the other day about the top young designers. Your name was on the list in every apparel category."

"My name will be on the list of biggest failures if I don't do this doll thing right. YOUR name is on the list of top new designers and manufacturers of packaging and point-of-purchase displays. Help!"

The first time Loni came to my office, I wanted Monique there in her role as full partner in my business. I loved my wife, but this was Loni. I had no idea how we would react to each other after all those years apart.

Loni was even more beautiful than I remembered, but I needn't have worried. We all quickly knew where we stood, everyone honoring and celebrating our feelings, past and present. The women became close friends, and our families visited a few times. Our kids loved their "aunt".

"Loni" dolls were the must-have gifts for every doll-lover, young and old, that Christmas.

*****

It was the summer of '89. We shared letters and phone calls with Loni often. She made our daughter a prom gown, and stayed at our house that night after the final fitting. Monique and I were up late with our guest, renewing our friendship. We talked about her recent divorce. Loni had been through Hell with her husband, leaving him when he became physically abusive.

Her "Survivor" clothing line was a huge hit that year - swimsuits and lingerie shown by models with bandages, bruises, and painted-on smiles. Evening-wear was the "Other Woman Collection," and the men's lines were "Lawyer," featuring sharkskin, and "Bastard," with pajamas and cruise-wear. As usual, Loni, still beautiful, appeared on the runway herself many times.

*****

It was the summer of '99. Monique had a congenital heart condition. She was careful about her health, but didn't let fear stop her from doing what she wanted. Childbirth was risky, but she insisted on giving me kids. She wanted to learn to water-ski, so she did that too. I came home from a business trip to find her in her chair, a book in her lap, dead.

Loni came to the funeral. Her fall collection that year was all black. The models wore wavy black wigs and black veils, to look just like the gorgeous, mature model who still headed every runway parade.

*****

It was the summer of '09. My granddaughter was starting to walk, an adorable little princess with two teeth. Loni had been at the baptism. We had stayed in touch.

Loni called me one day. "I'm sending you a package. Call me before you open it. We need to talk."

The package arrived. Tempted as I was, I followed her request and opened it while on the phone with her. Inside were some dresses and play outfits for my little angel from the new fall kids' line. Also inside was a re-issue of the original "Loni" doll, a young, raven-haired beauty like the girl I had loved. The doll wore an all-white gown with train, veil, and headpiece, to match the tux on the prototype male doll also in the package. He looked like he was in his early twenties, with glasses and shoulder-length brown hair.

Loni said, "With your permission, I'll call him 'Mark.' Forty years ago, a young man who looked like him forced me to be the aggressor. I still am. I miss you. I miss us."

*****

My son and daughter run my business now. I live in Boston with my goddess.