Steve and Susan Jill Parker

Steve and Susan Jill Parker

Steve and Susan Jill Parker meet for the first time.

# # #

Author's Note:

This story was written for Steve. He wanted to profess his love for Susan Jill Parker in this romantic, love story. He wanted me to record his feelings of heartache, heartbreak, and love in his true story. Having read her stories for years, he was in love with her. Yet, not realizing who she was when he followed her and chased after her, he was surprised that his dream woman was, indeed, her.

# # #

It all started like any other day, instead of taking a bus or a taxi home from work, I walked home from work. After being couped up in an office all day, I needed to stretch my legs. I needed to get some exercise. Moreover, in addition to stretching my legs and getting some much-needed exercise, walking usually clears my head. Even while being distracted by the sights and the sounds of the bustling city, walking usually helps me to think.

Except for this day, I was too upset to think but the walking helped me to blow off some steam. Pressured to finish my work, I was tired. I was crabby. Everything seemed to upset me. With so many people out and about, and getting in my way, people, especially women, annoyed me. Between ambulances, firetrucks, horns beeping, and traffic, the city was so noisy, too noisy to keep a thought in my head. I couldn't think.

As if it was the Christmas rush, the sidewalk was crowded with people in a hurry to get home. Seemingly, everyone was doing the same thing at the same time. Hailing cabs, catching buses, and running down the steps to the crowded underground, everyone was in a hurry. Instead of staggering work times, allowing everyone to leave together, I wished they had metered the times when people could leave.

With them rushing here and rushing there, the enormous crowd of people gave me the jitters. Forcing me to stop to allow them to pass, women continually cut in front of me. Taking liberties with them being the weaker sex, men would never cut in front of other men in the way that women hogged the sidewalk.

It was unsafe to be out after a certain hour. Indeed, it was not safe. Seemingly, no one wanted to be turned into a pumpkin, or more likely be a victim of assault, rape, a robbery, a stabbing, or a shooting. After 6pm, a big change in the atmosphere, the business district was totally deserted. Mobbed before with people, it was a virtual ghost town now. Packed with people before it was uninhabited now.

Getting to the office early enough to finish all that I needed to do, I had worked a long,12-hour day. Even though I was tired, the walking, when I could walk without bumping into someone, did me good. Yet, I couldn't wait to have some downtime to decompress. I needed to relax.

I couldn't wait to get home and pour myself a single, malted scotch. I couldn't wait to slowly sip my drink while watching mindless TV and waiting for my Chinese food to be delivered. I couldn't wait to eat and go to bed.

'Eat, work, and sleep, is all that I do.' I thought.

# # #

Sometimes, I wished I had a busty, dark haired wife named Katie, who'd welcome me home with a kiss, a hug, and a hot, piping dinner fresh out of the oven.

'How was your day,' I imagined my imaginary wife asking after giving me a kiss?

I imagined giving her a forced smile while feeling her big tits. I imagined that I loved her big tits. I imagined my imaginary wife having exceptional breasts.

'Exhausting,' I imagined saying.

Sometimes, I wished I had a couple of kids, a boy named Tommy and a girl named Stephanie, who were glad to see me.

'Daddy! Daddy! Mommy! Daddy's home,' I imagine my imaginary children saying while happy that I was home from work.

Sometimes, I wished I had a small, dog, a toy, Manchester terrier, named Rocky, 'Yip!' Or a big dog, a huge dog, a Great Dane, named Tiny, 'Woof!'

I love dogs but with me working so many hours, it wouldn't be fair to the dog to be couped up all day.

'Down, boy. Down. Stay,' I imagine saying to my imaginary dog while trying to get in the front door without him jumping on me.

Nonetheless, I wished I had a pampered pet who'd jumped up in my lap and lick my face to show me how happy he was that I was home. Yet, unmarried, I didn't have a busty wife to kiss, adoring children to hug, or even a loyal dog to greet. Fated to be alone, I was always alone.

# # #

Yet, instead of finding my certain someone, my perfect person, my special woman, and my forever companion, never finding the right person, I was alone. I lived alone. I dined alone. I watched television alone. I went to bed alone and woke up alone.

'Alone, alone, alone. I'm always alone.'

Wishing I could change that and find someone, I was tired of being alone. I was lonely. I was horny. I was unhappy. I was depressed.

Tired of working, work, work, work, all I did was work. Needing something more than working just to make a living enough to survive, I needed a fuller life. I needed a woman as my compass, to not only give me my direction but also to give me my purpose in life. I needed a beautiful woman to have intimate relations with while my children were asleep, and my faithful dog was beside me on the floor.

'Is that too much to ask? Where is my woman,' I thought to myself again while feeling horny as much as I felt sexually frustrated?

# # #

I've tried picking up assorted women in bars, from hookers, to whores, to lonely housewives, to young, single, and carefree. Still, after an exciting, sexual romp, I ended up alone. I've tried meeting seemingly interesting women online. I've tried dating services. I've tried cooking classes, book reading classes, art classes, and museum touring excursions, all without luck. I'm still alone.

I have friends, co-workers, and relatives constantly and continually trying to hook me up with blind dates to find the supposed love of my life. Sure, I've gotten laid a lot, but I needed more than just empty sex. I needed a real relationship. I needed a love relationship.

I needed love. I needed to find love. I needed a love affair. I needed to be in love. I needed to be ecstatically head-over-heels in love. Yet, with every married couple that I know seemingly, always bickering, arguing, separating, splitting, and eventually divorcing, why are they so quick to get me hitch? When on the surface, and by any measure of my imagination, I'm happier than they are being carefree and single, albeit alone.

Years later, all to no avail, with me having the same personal, relationship problems, I'm still alone. I'm still lonely. I'm still wicked horny. I still haven't found my woman. I needed to find my woman. I needed to find my person and my special someone. I need to find love.

# # #

Then, finally, as if birds were singing, the flowers were blooming, and the clouds parted enough for me to see a vision from Heaven. A happy ending to my sad, lonely love story, something that I somehow just knew, I knew as soon as I saw her that she was the one. I found her. I found my special woman.

'There she is! Oh, my God. That's her,' I thought. 'I don't believe it. I found her. I can't believe that I finally found her.'

Difficult not to notice her, as if it was meant to be, I saw her from behind and from a distance, nearly half a New York, block away. Yet, somehow, as if it was fated to be, without even having to see her from the front, without even having to talk to her, and romance her, I knew that she was who I had been searching to find. She was my perfect, female companion. One in a million, she was the one. I needed to look no further.

'Thank you, Jesus,' I thought giving my thanks to God.

With her head held high, full of confidence with each step, she was walking within a crowd of women. She was a head taller than all the other women. As she walked, her head bobbed up and down and side to side as if she was a blonde buoy in a sea of ordinariness. At that very moment, already in love, love at first sight, not even having to see the rest of her, I personally understood why songwriters wrote love songs about women that they didn't know and had never met but had only imagined.

'Could she be my love song,' I wondered? 'Love at first sight, I was already in love with this woman, whoever she was. I was ready to write my love song. Only, I didn't know her name. I wondered what her name was. I, at least, needed to know her name to write our love song.'

All the time that I was walking while trying to catch up with her, I wondered her named.

'Could her name be Kathy, Linda, Diane, Christine, or Veronica? I had no idea. I could only guess but it was certainly fun guessing while trying to put a name to the back of her,' I thought.

# # #

There was no room on the sidewalk to run after her. With my walkway so crowded and blocked, I couldn't even jog. I didn't want to trip over someone and fall. I didn't want to risk taking the chance of being hit by a taxi or a speeding bicycle messenger by walking in the street.

Instead, while hoping that I was walking faster than she was, I quickened my step whenever I could without tripping over someone. I continued walking faster while trying to catch up to her. As if the women around me were trying to detain me and stop me from catching up to her, women walked in front of me. Women cut me off and nearly tripped me. Women crashed into me while trying to gain entrance in a store for a dress that they saw on sale.

Women, women, women, I was surrounded by women, but none of the women were the one that I wanted. As if they all were talking and laughing at the same time, they made a lot of noise, white, annoying noise. I couldn't imagine being married to any of them. They made my head hurt and I couldn't think. Women walked at leisurely pace in front of me while incessantly talking and loudly laughing. Women slowly walked in front of me while stopping.

'Who are all of these women,' I thought. 'Perhaps, I've been oblivious, but I've never seen so very many women.'

I wish I could just push them out of my way without being arrested and/or sued.

'Get out of my way,' I wanted to scream! 'Can't you see that I'm in a hurry? How dare you detain me from catching up to my dream woman.'

# # #

Then, as if trying to get my attention, women suddenly stopped in front of me to block my way to hail a cab, to talk to someone while looking at one another, to talk on the phone, or to light a cigarette. No matter how hard I politely tried, I couldn't extricate myself from this horde of average, looking woman. There were so very many women but not one that I wanted in the way that I wanted her, my mystery woman.

At the very least, unable to even do that, I needed to see my dream woman's ass to see if she was worthy of my love. I prayed to God that she had shapely ass and without having saddlebags. I prayed to God that she had a great ass, an ass to write love poems and compose love songs about.

'Panties are nice, thongs are, too, but I love her ass, her shapely ass, especially when she's nude,' I thought while quickly composing my love song about her naked ass.

As much as I hoped that she had an amazing ass, I hoped that she had great legs, too. I love long, shapely legs. With all too many women having short, fat legs, and blocking me from seeing my fantasy women's legs, I needed to see her legs. It was important for me to see her legs.

Unable to see her legs with her still walking within a crowd of women, I prayed to God that she had long, shapely legs and didn't have fat ankles. Giving me a glimpse of what women looked like after they've had a couple of babies and grew older, sorry but I'm not sexually attracted to women with short legs and/or fat ankles.

Perhaps, I'm being too particular when searching for my special someone. Yet, I needed to see the front of her, too. Hoping that she was beautiful, I needed to see if she had a pretty face. Her face was just as important, if not more important, than her ass and her legs. I needed to see if the front of her was as good looking as was the back of her.

Another feature that was of paramount importance to me, I needed to see if she had big tits. Hoping she had big tits; I love big breasted women. I've had enough sex with small breasted women, with a variety of women to know that large breasted women make my motor race.

Giving me something more to touch, feel, fondle, and hold on to while fucking, fucking a woman with big tits is critically important to me. I love watching big tits bounce. I love it when a woman sits on my stiff prick while hanging her big breasts in my face.

# # #

As if running a race and she was in the lead. She was, indeed, a fast walker, even in her bright yellow, high heeled shoes. As if she was a model who walked off a runway to tease me in her designer black and yellow, fitted dress, a positive, she indeed had long and shapely legs without having the aforementioned fat ankles.

Giving me peek-a-boo glimpses of her in between the women who blocked my way, unable to tell how far away she was, I wondered how tall she was. With her a head taller than most of the other women, certainly, she looked plenty tall enough. Yet, as soon as I thought of something as droll as her mere height, I was hypnotized by her shapely ass keeping beat to a silent rumba in her dress as she walked.

'Slow, quick, quick, slow. Slow, quick, quick, slow.'

I was mesmerized watching her ass keeping beat to her fast footsteps.

In between women getting in my way, while imagining seeing her shapely ass in her bikini, in her thong, and naked, I stared at her ass keeping beat to the imagined rumba music that suddenly played in my head.

'She has a great ass. She has such a shapely ass. She has the most beautiful ass that I've even seen,' I thought. 'I love her ass.'

I couldn't wait to see her ass in a bikini. I couldn't wait to see her ass in panties. I couldn't wait to see her naked ass. I couldn't wait to touch, feel, and squeeze her naked ass. I couldn't wait to pay homage to her naked ass by kissing her naked ass and licking her naked ass.

# # #

'I'd love to tap that ass,' I thought. 'I'd love to kiss her while feeling her ass through her dress. I'd love to slowly lift the back of her designer dress to feel her ass through her panties while kissing her.'

As if her ass was my continued reason to walk faster, to catch up to her, to introduce myself, and to talk to her, I needed to stop her from disappearing further in the crowd and getting away.

'Maybe, she doesn't wear panties,' I thought while getting sexually excited by the prospect of not only seeing her naked ass but also by touching, feeling, and squeezing her naked ass.

Hypnotized by the mere movement of her ass, I continued staring at her ass while trying to walk faster without tripping over someone.

'Maybe her naked ass is doing all that magical, syncopated motion without her wearing panties and because she's not wearing panties. Now, that I've seen a faraway glimpse of her perfect ass, if only I could catch up to her, I'd love to see her ass close-up. I'd love to toss her salad and lick her ass before fucking her ass.'

As if I mesmerized by her ass, I never removed my eyes from her ass.

'Oh, Steve,' I imagined her saying. 'Bend me over and fuck my ass. Stick your big dick far up my ass. Fuck my ass, Steve, while holding onto my big tits.'

Then, taking my eyes off her for a second to cross the street so as not to be hit by an impatient taxicab, in that instant, she was gone. My tall, blonde, beautiful, long legged, busty bombshell disappeared somewhere within the crowd of ordinary looking women. Crushed, I was devastated.

# # #

I looked one way before looking the other way. I didn't see her. I couldn't find her. As if losing a child who had let go of my hand, frantically searching for her, again, I looked one way before looking the other way, again. I still didn't see her. I still couldn't find her.

'Where is she? Where did she go? I must find her. I must know who she is. I need to at least know her first name so that I can dream about her and sexually fantasize about her. I need to see her face.'

I looked far ahead. I looked across the street. I even turned around to look behind me but she was gone, gone forever.

'I'll never see her again,' I thought. 'I'll never find her in this sea of ordinary faces. She had been swallowed up within a herd of women with fat asses, short legs, fat ankles, and small breasts. God help me,' I prayed. 'Where did she go? Where is she?'

With women forced to walk around me, I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and closed my eyes to put my head down to focus and concentrate on the sensational image of her. Psychically calling to her, somehow without even meeting her, I felt that we were somehow connected. I could clearly see her in my mind's eye. I could feel her in my heart. Yet, again, somehow, I knew she was close by. But where?

'God help me find this woman,' I prayed. 'I need to see her again. I need to talk with her. I need to know her name.'

When I opened my eyes, believing in the power or prayer, thinking that I'd see her again, I didn't see her. I couldn't find her. I panicked with the thought that I'd never find her. I panicked with the possibility that I'd never see her again.

I was crushed with dread and with the thought of never meeting her. I'd never know her name. How can I possible have a sexual fantasy and compose a love song of my dream woman without even knowing her name? At the very least, I needed to know her first name.

'Please God help me,' I prayed.

# # #

'With me tired from working a full day, did I imagine her,' I wondered? 'With me working all night and getting up early to go to work, exhausted from always working, was she merely a figment of my imagination,' I wondered?

I didn't know. I couldn't tell. I questioned my sanity.

'Was my horny mind merely showing me all that I hoped to see of my one-in-a-million woman? How could my dream woman disappear on me without allowing me to introduce myself and meet her? How dare she appear and then disappear within a crowd of women, so very many, ordinary women?'

Then, when I turned my head to my right, I was standing in front of the Perfect People's Pub. I've must have walked by this bar a hundred times and have never noticed it before in the way that I was awe stuck with it now. Yet, for some unknown reason, I was drawn to it. When I walked closer to the window to look inside, there she was. I saw her.

'There she is,' I thought with excitement as if I had finally found my lost dog or a long-lost friend.

I bowed my head to give my thanks to God.

'Thank you, Jesus,' I thought. 'I found her. I finally found my perfect someone.'

# # #

She was sitting at the bar having a drink alone. Clearly, someone as beautiful as she was should never drink alone. No doubt, she was waiting for someone. Who was she waiting for, I wondered?

Was she waiting for her man? Was she waiting for a professional athlete, someone with a neck circumference as big as his penis length? Was she waiting for someone who could crush my head in his hand for hitting on his woman? Yet, I didn't care if her boyfriend was a monster. I was ready to fight for this woman.

'Back off! She's mine,' I imagined saying while ready to be pounded into the pavement by some big brute.

Now that she was sitting still without moving and without walking, getting a good, long look at her side profile now, without a hundred different women in my way, she was, indeed, very beautiful. She was sexy. She was shapely. She was everything that I wanted in a woman.

She was, without doubt, my perfect woman. Indeed, she was my dream woman. In the way that Billy Joel thought of Christie Brinkley as his Uptown Girl, this woman, whatever her name, was my dream woman. Indeed, she was my Christie Brinkley. She was my Uptown Girl.