1. Sweet Memories


    Date: 11/10/2015, Categories: Masturbation, Author: BJintheUK, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    crack and look out to see who it was. In the small pool of light that spilled out from my room onto the unlit landing, I saw a shortish, pretty blonde girl of about twenty two, with large brown eyes, a small mouth, and a pale complexion, wearing something light coloured, that was long and shapeless, and standing with a paper cup in her hand. “Hello, I'm from upstairs, and I know this sounds corny,” she said, “but I don’t suppose you've got any sugar have you?” I remember I looked into the attractive face the words had just come from, took in the soft brown eyes, the nervous smile that played around the edges of her pale pink lips, and the long straight blonde hair that framed it all so captivatingly, and couldn't think of anything sensible to say. “I… I… uhhh… don’t have any I'm afraid.” I replied when I’d regained some of my senses. “I don’t use it myself. I've got to look after my sylph like figure you see.” and I smiled a short thin smile. It was the same sort of half-hearted smile you’d give a stranger you met in a lift. That was the trouble with being shy. How do you react when a perfect stranger starts talking to you? Especially if that stranger looks to be perfect in more ways than one? I’d always had problems breaking the ice with girls, and even in my twenties, I still struggled to overcome the fear of saying or doing the one wrong thing that could end a relationship before it even had time to realise it existed. The girl smiled sympathetically at my feeble attempt ...
    at humour, and I felt the warmth in her eyes like the kiss of the sun on a mid-summer beach. Then her expression changed to one of disappointment, and she turned and walked along the landing and grabbed the banister, ready to go back up the stairs to her room on the next floor up. “ ‘s okay,” she said, “I thought I’d ask on the off chance. The shops round here are all shut on Sunday, and I like to have sugar on my cornflakes in the morning.” “Sorry,” I said, “I gave up sugar nearly a year ago now, …when I noticed my trousers were getting a bit tight.” She looked back at me with an odd, but not unpleasant expression, and I swear her eyes were scanning slowly down the door, hoping to get a good look at said trousers. Then her face lit up a bit, and she smiled again as she started climbing the stairs. I closed the door, then realised that opening it had moved the towel away from under the coat, and now it was rucked up in a crooked line on the carpet. So I moved the towel and spread it out under the damp coat again, then picked up the iron from the stand and continued trying to smooth the trousers the girl had been so eager to see. A few seconds later I heard the door of the bed-sit above clunk shut. When I heard the door go, I stopped ironing for a second, shrugged my shoulders, shook my head, and smiled to think of the strange encounter I’d just had. Then I dismissed it as a one-off, a never to be repeated event, like winning the pools, or being struck by lightning. On some ...
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