Summer Romance Never Forgotten #01

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Seemingly not meant to be, a man meets the love of his life and then loses her

She kissed him. Emma kissed him. She French kissed him. He couldn't believe this beautiful, young woman was French kissing him. She parted his lips with her tongue and French kissed him. Never had he been kissed like this before. Never had a woman kissed him first before.

If only he knew then what he knows now, that he would never be kissed like that again, he may have done things differently. If only he knew then what he knows now, he never would have let her go. If only he knew then what he knows now, he would have gone after her. Only, what did he know? Happy with her kiss and thrilled to have sex with her, he didn't know he loved her at the time, truly loved her even forty years later. Seemingly, some things are never meant to be.

* * * * *

Robert couldn't believe she kissed him. With his brown eyes wide open and her violet eyes melting his soul and forever taking ownership of his heart, she leaned into him, pressed her bikini clad body up against him, and kissed him in the way he had never been kissed before. As if they were already a couple, a boyfriend and girlfriend, engaged, or even married, he couldn't believe a woman he barely knew, a woman he had just met, kissed him in such a passionately loving and sexual way. Too much for him to comprehend at the time, overwhelmed, he mistook his feelings of love for horniness. He didn't realize that this was his once in a lifetime opportunity to find forever love and happiness.

'Wow,' he thought. 'No way! What the Hell was that about? Why is she kissing me in the way that I had wanted to kiss her as soon as I saw her? Women don't act this way.'

Seemingly always turned on and with them intently focused on him, her eyes were as striking as if they were jeweled nightlights plugged in an outlet. If she had brown eyes, he may have not noticed her eyes as much as he did now. He couldn't remove his eyes from her eyes.

Hypnotizing him with her eyes, she mesmerized him with her sexy stare. As if they were talking to him, her eyes moved him, sucked him in, and forced him to stare at her. Other than seeing Elizabeth Taylor on the big, silver screen, he had never seen anyone with violet eyes before and he had never met anyone with blue, black hair and olive complexion who didn't have brown eyes.

Even though he had just met her and didn't know much about her, other than she had a fabulous body, was excruciatingly beautiful, and her name was Emma, he knew little else about her. Wobbly kneed, she literally melted him with her kiss. Star struck as if meeting and kissing a celebrity or a supermodel, with him liquid in her hands, he offered no resistance to her kissing him.

His fantasy woman come true, why would he resist her red, full lips and her unbelievable body? Whether man or woman, no one could resist kissing her, especially not him, with him already so smitten with her. Never has he met anyone like her and she was kissing him. He couldn't believe she was kissing him, French kissing him.

He fell back when she pushed him against the wall, parted his lips with her tongue, and kissed him. If he didn't know he was wide awake, he'd think he was dreaming. If he didn't know he was alive and breathing, he'd think he had died and gone to Heaven.

He stared in her violet, blue eyes until she closed them and until he closed his eyes too. Taken away by her kiss, as if he was alone with her on a Maldivian tropical island, consumed by who she was and all that she could be to him, he lost all consciousness of where he was. Afraid to touch her for fear that she'd disappear in a poof and this phenomenal kiss, the best kiss of his life would end, he lightly rested his hands on her naked waist.

By far, more beautiful than any actress or model he's ever seen in a magazine, on the big, silver screen, or on television, she was the most beautiful woman he's ever seen and she's kissing him. Yet, why was she kissing him? Why him? Why now? He didn't understand but deciding not to ruin the moment by questioning her or her motives, he just continued following her lead and going with the flow.

Accustomed to having to put the moves on a woman and float her consciousness in a pool of excessive amounts of alcohol for her to kiss him in such a sexual way, he didn't even have to do that with her. He didn't have to do anything. As if he was the beautiful one and the one so desired, she kissed him. A complete mystery to him, why is someone who looks like her kissing someone who looks like him?

With him always having a preference for blonds, he's never seen a woman with beautiful, blue, black hair who wasn't Asian, Latino, or African American before. As much as he was taken with her and with her mesmerizing eyes, eyes that he couldn't stop staring in them, he was taken by her long, lush, blue-black, beautiful, straight hair. She had the kind of gorgeous hair that those woman have in shampoo commercials but that he never saw in person on any woman.

Contrasting her hair, she had beautiful, olive complexion. If he was to hazard a guess, he'd guessed she was Italian more than she was Latino or Mulatto. With her nearly the same height as him in her sandals, if he was to guess again, he'd say she was 5'9" tall. Suddenly, as if he was standing on a corner in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil and watching her walk by, the song from the Girl from Ipanema played through his head.

"Tall and tan and young and lovely, the girl from Ipanema goes walking and when she passes, each one she passes goes, aaaaaah."

None of this seemed real. All of this played out more like a fantasy. Unprepared to fall in love but already in love at first sight, she shove him in a sexual fantasy of epic, mind blowing proportions when she pushed him against the wall to kiss him. With all of this happening so fast, he didn't know what to believe. Only, this wasn't fantasy. This was real and seemingly she was just as sexually attracted to him as he was to her.

Yet why? Why was she seemingly as sexually attracted to him as he was sexually attracted to her? He could understand his sexual attraction to her. Anyone would understand that. Explained just by looking at her, she was gorgeous and he was average at best. He could explain her attraction to him if he was handsome, brilliant, rich, and/or famous but he wasn't any of those things. He was just him, a typical guy, and an average Joe, who was bewitched by a beautiful woman he had just met on a beach.

As if he was Prince Charming, unable to control himself from lightly touching her extraordinarily beautiful hair, he ran his slow fingers through her thick, shiny, black hair as if she was Snow White. Only, she may be as beautiful as who the Grimm Brothers created and who Walt Disney perceived as Snow White, but he was no woman's Prince Charming and this was no animated, fantasy cartoon.

He needed to touch her to know if she was real. He needed to touch her to make sure that he wasn't dreaming. He needed to touch her to see if she'd recoil and slap his face to let him know that someone who looked like her could never be with someone who looked like him.

Not an ugly man or a handsome man, he was just an average looking man. In the way there was everything special about her, there was nothing special about him, until now that Emma was kissing him. In the way that the handsome hero always gets the beautiful damsel in distress, her kissing him changed everything.

Right from wrong, good versus evil, going left or right, and moving up or down, now everything in his life was now topsy-turvy instead of moving straight ahead. With him already set in his notions of the rich versus the poor and the beautiful versus the ugly, the top tier never fraternized with the bottom tier. With his world never being the same, he didn't know what to think now.

Unbelievable but true, he would have been better off had he never even seen her walking from afar. He would have been better off had he never caught up to her while hoping to meet her. He would have been better off had she ignored him on the beach and not talked to him after he made a fool of himself by stumbling and falling. He would have been better off had she not walked with him and talked to him while picking up seashells.

Hurting his head to admit it, he would have been better off had she not invited him back to her place. He would have been better off had she never kissed him, French kissed him. He would have been better off had she not allowed him to have his wicked sexual way with her beautiful body and given him sex.

Only, when he looked up at her from the hot sand, a rare beauty, she had such a pretty face to match her incredible body. Then, there were those eyes, those violet eyes that stared down at him as if they were rare, brilliant jewels that sparkled in the sun. She laughed at him for tripping and for making a fool of himself by falling for her. As if she was haunting him, she had such a melodious laugh that can still be heard in his head to this day. Yet, even though it pained him to admit it, he would have been better off without her in his head forever haunting him as if she was his personal ghost.

'Emma. Where are you? Emma, I love you. I'll always love you.'

* * * * *

A memory he'll never forget and will surely carry with him for the rest of his life, if he were to die right here and right now with her in his arms kissing him, he'd die a happy man. Only, he prayed to God that he didn't die now and not just yet. Wanting to experience so much more of Emma than just her lips, now that she was kissing him, he hoped to receive so very much more than just her French kiss.

Unaccustomed to a woman kissing him first, spellbound by her, Robert couldn't believe that Emma kissed him out of the blue. With no rhyme or reason to her kissing him, she kissed him in the way that he imagined kissing her. He's the one who's supposed to kiss her. He's the one who's supposed to make the first move.

Now having to play it all through his head over and again for him to make sense of all that just happened, she invited him home, pushed him up against the wall, parted his lips with her tongue, and French kissed him. Totally shocked, he couldn't believe this gorgeous woman was making out with him. Unable to fit a playing card between them, she pressed her bikini clad, shapely body up against him as if she was going to fuck him right then and right there in her reception hall.

Truth be told, with this a magically, enchanted day, never thinking that she'd ever have sex with him, that outrageous thought never even crossed his mind. He was just happy with her kiss. Then, again, as thrilled as he was baffled, he never dreamt that someone who looked like her would kiss someone who looked like him. Overjoyed that she didn't reject him when he approached her to talk to her, he was just happy to be with her while walking along the beach talking and picking up seashells. Just as he never expected her to kiss him or to instantly fall in love with her, he never expected her to invite him home.

A woman he just met at the beach on the hottest day of the year, the most beautiful and sexiest woman in the world was kissing him. Unable to wrap his head around being in her house alone with her and with her kissing him, he couldn't believe she was kissing him. If Emma French kissing him wasn't enough, Robert couldn't believe his eyes when she reached around her back, unhooked her bra, and removed her bikini top.

'Oh, my God,' he thought. 'Are you kidding me? I don't believe this.'

Too good to be true, if he didn't think he was dreaming before, he certainly must be dreaming now. She was topless. Emma was topless. Her tits, her areolas, and her nipples were right there in front of him for him to see.

Something right out of a movie or a sexual fantasy, things like this never happened to him. If he told his friends that he met the most beautiful woman in the world and she French kissed him before removing her bikini top, they'd never believe him. They'd think he was lying. They'd think he was making up stories. They'd think he had lost his mind from masturbating too much while sexually fantasizing over beautiful women that he'd never meet, never mind kiss while they're topless.

As if looking to see his reaction to her bold, sexual move, she stared up at him before looking down at her naked breasts. She looked at her breasts as if looking to see what he could see of her before returning her focused stare back to him staring at her tits. The only part of her more beautiful than her breasts, her hair, and her face were her eyes. Even though her naked breasts were trying to steal his focused attention, he couldn't stop staring at her eyes. For as long as he shall live, he'll never forget her eyes.

He just stood there in shock gawking at her. Afraid to touch her for fear that he'd awaken from his dream, she took his hands in her hands and placed them on her C cup, naked breasts. Forget about moving to second base from first base, whatever this was moved at lightning speed. Giving him the green light as he hit a triple and flew around all of the bases and on his way to an in-the-park homerun, he was feeling Emma's naked tits and fingering her nipples.

He couldn't believe she was kissing him as if she was in love with him. He couldn't believe he was feeling her naked tits and fingering her nipples. If he had to pick his best sexual fantasy, being there with Emma topless while French kissing her, feeling her naked breasts, and fingering her hard, erect nipples would be it.

"La Vida Loca."

As if he was a celebrity or a rich man, he was living the crazy life, something he's never done before.

* * * * *

Giving him complete, uninterrupted access to her amazingly shapely, C cup breasts, she wrapped her arms around his neck while making out with him. Kissing and kissing him, she continued kissing him. Allowing him to have his wicked way with her tits, if only he knew what happened to him then would never happen to him again, he may have more cherished the time he had with her lips and her naked breasts. He may have never let her go.

Other than the airbrushed photos that he's seen of beautiful topless and naked women in a men's magazine, never has he seen breasts so shapely and perfectly symmetrical. Never has he felt breasts that were so firm and so densely heavy. The real deal and not some plastic surgeon's conception of what a woman's breasts should look and feel like, her breasts were all natural. She had breasts as naturally shapely as Jessica Simpson, Heidi Klum, or Scarlett Johansson.

One of his favorite, sexual things to do, Robert continued feeling her tits while fingering her nipples as Emma continued kissing him and kissing him. When she could have easily stopped kissing him and pushed him away, she didn't. When she could obviously have any man she wanted, she choose him. Why? He didn't understand. As if he was Billy Joel with supermodel Christie Brinkley or Ric Ocasek of The Cars with supermodel Paulina Porizkova, he still couldn't believe that someone who looked like her was kissing someone who looked like him. He could understand Tom Brady with supermodel Giselle Bundchen but he was no Tom Brady.

Even though they were strangers who weren't yet even friends, she kissed him as if they were already lovers. She kissed him as if she was in love with him when he had just met her. She kissed him as if she knew he was already in love with her when he had just met her an hour before. She kissed him as if she had known him in another lifetime. She kissed him as if she was a drunken woman when she was absolutely sober. She kissed him as if she was a woman high on drugs when she was totally clean. She kissed him with the unspoken promise that there'd be so much more to come.

Not done yet. Seemingly with her hoping to get lucky with him and with him unaccustomed to such a fast turn of events, she made all of the sexual moves as if she was the man and he was the woman. As if she was the sexually aggressive one, and she was, and he was the submissive one, and he was, she reached her hand down to feel his swollen cock through his jeans. He couldn't believe that she was sexually touching him and brazenly feeling him in the way he was afraid to sexually touch her and brazenly feel her.

If it wasn't enough that she kissed him, she French kissed him. If it wasn't enough that she removed her bikini top, she put his hands on her breasts. Now, if it wasn't enough that she was feeling his erection through his jeans, in his wildest sexual fantasies, he couldn't imagine what to expect next. Shocking him enough for him to gasp with sexual delight, he couldn't believe she was touching him in the way that he wanted to touch her.

As if she had done this dozens of times with other men before, knowing where and just how to touch him, she made him hard without even stroking him. Touching him and feeling him precisely where he needed to be touched and felt, she fingered the head of his cock through his jeans with her manicured fingers. When he didn't stop her from sexually touching him, and when he didn't resist her from her sexually seducing him, she unbuttoned, unzipped, and pushed his jeans and underwear down to his ankles.

'Fuck me,' he thought to himself without dare voicing that out loud.

In the way that he had tried to strip off the clothes of a woman numerous times before and failed, she was successful in stripping off his clothes now. In the way that he had tried to take sexual advantage of women he had just met after a night of drinking in a bar and failed, she was successfully taking sexual advantage of him now after walking with him for an hour on the beach. Especially one who was so beautiful, never had he ever met a woman who was so sexually aggressive.

'Oh, my God!' Then, he thought, 'What if she's not a woman but a man? What if she's a cross dresser or a post op or pre-op, transgendered individual. That would explain why she's so sexually attracted to him. That would explain why she was so sexually aggressive with him. Only a man would be attracted to another man who looks like him. Only a man would be as sexually aggressive.' Then, when he took another close, hard look at her, 'Nah, there's no way this beautiful woman was born a man.'

Besides, if this beautiful woman is indeed a man, then he's turning gay and marching in the next gay parade for a chance to be sexually intimate with her. Only, soon to find out when she removed her bikini bottoms and asked him to give her oral sex, she wasn't a man. She was all woman with all the natural, God given, womanly parts.

With her naked from the waist up, he was naked from the waist down. If he was dreaming now, this is the dream he'd be having. If he was masturbating to a sexual fantasy, he'd be masturbating to this one. Only, he wasn't dreaming and he wasn't have a sexual fantasy, this was really happening to him.

'Oh, my God. No way. This can't be happening to me. I must be dreaming. Something like this never happens to me,' he thought.

Again, as if she was the man and he was the woman, she kissed and kissed him again while taking his already stiff prick in her hand. The warmth of her hand and the softness of her fingers sent chills through his spine. She kissed and kissed him again while slowly stroking his hard erection. Then, without him having to give her a not so subtle hint by pushing down on her shoulder, she took it upon herself to move herself down his body and kiss every part of him as she lowered her mouth down to his prick. Lowering herself where no modestly moral woman should ever go when just meeting a man, he was glad that she wasn't modesty moral.

He racked his brain. It made no sense. Why was someone who looked like her with someone who looked like him? Whatever it was for her to kiss him, remove her bikini top, strip him naked, and fondle his cock before hopefully sucking his cock, he didn't care. All he cared about was that she was there with him now. All he cared about was that in getting sexually lucky with this sexy, sexual, beautiful Goddess, he'd have a story to tell his friends for the rest of his life.