Dreams of a Virgin (6 page)

Next thing I knew, my joystick was in her
input. The orgasm this was creating felt like a real woman. Just as
download was almost complete, she disconnected and plugged my
joystick into her oral port for completion. I could actually feel a
tongue on my unit.

After she went down on me, I proceeded to go
down on her. My tongue fluttered around her private area. She
moaned in ecstasy.

Then darkness. My fifteen minutes were up. I
grabbed my video and got back in line. They told me only one time
per visit. So, I decided to come back tomorrow.

The next day, I went straight to CyberSex.
This time I chose a pre-designed model. I looked over the list and
decided on the one I thought was the prettiest and best of the
bunch: Gabriela.

Next thing I knew, I was in a love scene from
one of her movies. Only I could change things. In the scene, she
was in a white bra and panties. In my version, I could take them
off.

In the scene, we only kissed on the lips. In
my version, I kissed all over her perfect body. I flipped her over
and plugged into her absolutely perfect rear port. She shrieked in
pure pleasure.

To do this to someone as perfect as Gabriela,
I had to stop ten minutes into it. It was too much for me. I picked
up the video. It was smoking. It was that hot and steamy.

Having run out of money, I headed home,
fulfilled like I never thought possible. Until I realized it was
only a dream. I woke up in time to see the news. I saw them
interviewing someone who was the spitting image of Gabriela.

Sometimes we act on instinct in times of need. And
sometimes those acts of heroism are rewarded.

It started off as a typical Friday. I cashed
my paycheck, paid some bills, and went to my car.

Suddenly, I heard a scream from a nearby
alley. I looked down the alley. There were two thugs holding up a
very beautiful woman.

“What’s going on here?”

“Help me! They’re robbing me!”

“Get out of here. This is none of your
business.”

I’d never been much of a fighter, but I had
to do something. I clipped one of them, kicking him in the knee. As
he tumbled to the ground, the other turned, wielding a gun.

I kicked him in the family jewels. As he
stood bent over, I ran his head into the brick wall of the alley,
rendering him unconscious.

Just then, I felt a slash on my left arm. The
other had recovered and used his knife to lacerate my arm. I kicked
him in the nut sack. I grabbed two trash can lids and played the
cymbals on his head.

Having vanquished the enemy, the terrified
female flung her arms around me in gratitude.

“Thank you so much for all your help, my
hero.” She smothered me with kisses.

“No problem at all.” I started to leave.

“Wait. Could you give me a lift home? I’m
still too scared to be alone.”

“Sure. Where do you live?”

“A couple miles from here. I hope I’m not too
much trouble.”

“No trouble at all. It’s on my way home. My
car’s in the garage here.”

On the way home, I found out a few things
about her. Her name was Cameron. She was twenty-four and single.
She was a receptionist for a medical clinic.

We pulled into her driveway. I opened the
door and walked her to her house.

“Have you eaten dinner yet? I make a wicked
casserole.”

“No, I haven’t eaten yet. I don’t know.”

“I don’t feel comfortable yet by myself.”

“Okay. I’ll stay. I didn’t have plans tonight
anyway.”

Her house was exquisitely decorated. Pink
everywhere. Flowers by every window. As she prepared the meal, I
sat on her sofa. She put it in the oven and sat beside me.

“I can’t believe you fought them off without
a knife or gun.”

“Neither can I. All I know is a beautiful
woman was in trouble., and I had to do something to help. I’m not a
fighter, so I did what I could.”

“And you looked good doing it.”

“Thanks. All I worried about was that you
were okay.”

She put her hand on my arm, right where I was
cut. I screamed out in pain.

“Oh no. You’ve been cut. Let me take care of
it.”

She went to the bathroom and came back with a
first aid kit and a bottle of peroxide. She took off my shirt. She
poured the peroxide on my wound. Of course, it stung.

She wiped it off. Gingerly, she kissed the
wound. Then, Cameron wrapped it in dry gauze.

“There. That should make it better.”

“You know what? It does. Thanks.”

“Well, working in a medical clinic, you pick
up some stuff here and there.”

She went back into the kitchen to set the
table and tossed a salad. I could smell the aroma of the casserole.
As I put my shirt back on, she told me that dinner was ready.

I went into the dining room. She had two pink
candles lit with a dazzling centerpiece. Two prepared salads were
placed by each plate. Two wine glasses were set on the other side
of the dish.

In she came with a sweet looking casserole.
She brushed up against me and gave me a heaping helping. She
hovered over me, waiting for me to try it and to give an opinion. I
stuck my fork into it, brought it to my mouth, and ate the
bite.

“Mmm. This is the best casserole I’ve ever
had.”

“I knew it would be. That’s why I made it for
you.”

She poured a vintage red wine. She joined me
at the table. As the meal progressed, she drew her chair closer to
me. I felt her foot rubbing my leg. As we finished, she stood up
and went back to the kitchen.

“I’ll be right back with dessert.”

Five minutes later, she came back, wearing a
blue bra and white silk undies and carrying a can of whipped cream.
She grabbed my hand and led me to her bedroom.

Once again, she took off my shirt. I started
to unfasten her top, but before I could remove it, she started to
work on my pants. As she dropped my drawers, I lowered her bra. I
lay her on her bed and slowly pulled down the silk panties.

She shook the bottle of whipped cream and
sprayed it on her stomach, her beautiful breasts, and her private
area. I lapped up the cream, starting from the stomach and moving
upward. I was in no hurry, especially around her breasts. I licked
around, kissed, and tenderly bit each nipple. I took my time in the
valley between.

Having cleaned the top portion, I proceeded
to the lower part. My tongue moved up and down the hair. Once I
rinsed the whipped cream shampoo out, I set my sights on the Y.
Although there was no cream there, my motor was still running, and
I shifted it into high gear. She was shrieking like a banshee.

Now that her oven was warmed up, I inserted
my hot dog into it to cook. Our tongues locked up. She couldn’t
keep her hands off me. Suddenly, the juices began to flow in the
oven.

“Ooh, my hero!” she cried out. The meal was
cooked well done.

As I got up to leave, she pulled me back.

“Wait. I’m still a little frightened to be
left alone. Could you spend the night?”

I’d come this far. Why stop now?

All through the night, we continued kissing
everywhere on the face. Finally, we fell asleep in each other’s
arms.

The next morning, I woke up holding a pillow
covered in slobber. I was dreaming.

One of Jeff’s favorite activities is ballroom and
Latin dancing. And, as they say, it takes two to tango, among other
things.

I had been taking dance lessons for three
years. I had won competitions. I had performed in charity
showcases. I had done all of this with my instructor. After all
this time, I had yet to find a partner of my own.

Michaela had been taking lessons for only one
year. She felt she was ready for competitions. Like me, she had no
partner, only her instructor.

There was a major competition in two months.
Michaela and I both wanted to compete. The competition consisted of
ten dances: Viennese waltz, fox trot, tango, quickstep, rumba, cha
cha, Paso doble, samba, mambo, and jive. On top of that, each
couple had to perform a solo routine of a dance of their
choice.

During one of my lessons, Michaela’s
instructor Adam came over to me.

“Jeff, I have something to ask you. I know
you are competing in two months. So is Michaela. Unfortunately, I
won’t be able to go with her. I wanted to run the idea by you of
partnering with her in the competition.”

I thought about it for a minute. I had won
competitions with my instructor. No offense to my teacher, but
inside I wanted a challenge. I saw that Michaela was not a bad
dancer. I agreed to be Michaela’s partner.

Over the next few weeks, the two of us worked
together to build the chemistry needed between dance partners. We
built the trust. I worked on my lead with my new partner.

In the first month, we spent three days a
week training two hours a day. On Monday and Wednesday, we
rehearsed the ten required dances. On Friday, we worked on learning
a solo number, a bolero, a very sexy, seductive dance.

With each lesson, Michaela and I grew closer
as friends and partners. After the first month, the chemistry was
there. The trust was there.

With one month to go before the competition,
we concentrated more on the solo routine. We knew the steps in the
ten required dances, but still spent one day a week perfecting
them. The solo routine, however, had to be learned from scratch and
thus needed more time devoted to it.

By now, Michaela and I began hanging out
outside of the studio. We had grown to be more than friends, but
not enough for a relationship.

With a week left before the competition, we
knew our routines. We spent this week perfecting everything. Lines,
fluidity, every little detail.

The night before the competition, we were
rehearsing in private, away from all instructors. We knew this
routine backwards and forwards. At the very end of the routine, I
gently lowered Michaela to the ground. The routine ended with me
staring deep into her eyes, her lying on her back.

In this instance, the feeling of the dance
overcame me. At the end, I kissed her. Knowing this was not part of
the routine, I pulled back quickly. I knew what I did was wrong. I
also knew that we had grown closer each day we rehearsed.

I looked at her, and she did not seem
embarrassed. In fact, she rose up and kissed me. In fact, she
kissed me with the passion of the bolero.

After two months of training together, this
dance had brought out a part of us neither knew we had.

Her kiss ignited a fire between the two of
us. As the flames grew high, we each shed clothing. As the fire
reached its peak, all clothing had been removed.

That was when I realized that I needed to
douse the flames. With my hose, I entered the hottest portion of
the fire, between Michaela’s legs. After fighting the heat for a
while, my hose sprayed. Instead of cooling her down, fighting the
flames only made her hotter. There had to be asbestos in the floors
to keep them from catching fire too. The sprinkler system had to be
malfunctioning; otherwise both of us would have been soaking
wet.

In time, all fires eventually burn themselves
out. So, too, did this fire.

The next day was the competition. As we got
there, there was a feeling of uncertainty. After last night, there
was a fear that we were too close. As we talked about our routines,
that fear subsided. Watching the warm-ups, we saw the other
competitors having fun out there. It loosened us up as well.

The competition started with the ballroom
dances. We nailed the fox trot, but stumbled a bit in the Viennese
waltz. This had always been my weakest dance. We recovered and
nailed the tango and quickstep.

There was a brief intermission, with an
exhibition dance from our judges, a professional couple who had
appeared on
Dancing with the Stars
.

After the intermission came the Latin
competition. It started with a cha cha, followed by the samba, my
favorite dance. As the rumba started, I felt a bit nervous. The
rumba is the dance of love, and after last night, I didn’t want to
be too risqué. Michaela calmed me down and we nailed the rumba. We
also nailed the mambo.

Next, the Paso doble, the dance of the
bullfighter. I channeled the passion of the bolero and combined it
with a new-found intensity and performed my best Paso routine
ever.

Finally, the jive. I knew this was Michaela’s
weakest dance, and dancing this last after the other nine dances
didn’t add to it. But she fought through it and we danced a good
routine.

With the group routines completed, each
couple had to perform their solo routine. One by one, we watched
the other couples perform. Some of the routines were really good,
better than ours, I thought.

Then, it was our turn. I could feel the spark
ignite when I looked in her eyes as the music started. We danced a
smooth, passionate bolero. I lifted her in the air as though she
was weightless. At the end of the dance, I gently lowered her to
the floor. As the music stopped, instead of kissing her as I did
last night, I simply winked and smiled. I pulled her up and we took
our bows.

After another brief intermission, the winners
were announced. As they announced third place, I saw that our name
had not been called. Then the announcement came.

“And the winner in our amateur couple
division... Jeff and Michaela!”

We hugged each other tightly, then went up to
accept our trophy. I could tell that tonight there would be another
celebration. Better put the fire department on alert.

Jeff was a bit overweight. Okay, he’s quite
overweight. So, how could someone that heavy have that first
experience? By losing weight.