Finding Robin, Finding Myself - Sex Stories

Finding Robin, Finding Myself

I was just coming off the end of a rather strange relationship. My former girlfriend was a long leggy redhead, mid-thirties, lithe and taut and incredibly sexy. Just my physical type, in fact. Small firm breasts, strong supple legs, a great lean figure. We'd been together for a year, kept going mainly by the sex. Our bed life was sublime. Unfortunately Marisa's personality out of bed was far too much of a pain. Okay, maybe I added to the friction, but her stubbornness and my desire for romance didn't mix very well.

In bed, however, it was a different story. I still can't get those times out of my head, when she stripped for me and spread her legs. She was always tight at the beginning, but after I'd prodded the tip of my large cock into her pussy lips, she relaxed enough to take me in wholesale, and then she melted into a frenzy. I can't count the number of times I'd said that the night before our waking morning was the best in my life. Marisa used to smile and lick her lips. She wasn't the cuddling type, not that I needed that -- but she was ferociously sensual.

I'd been drowning the sorrows of our breaking up at the local coffee shop -- alcohol isn't my thing -- and one day I did a double-take as I stood in line. It wasn't Marisa, but it was a gal who was just as tall and thin and curvy and fetching, with mischievous hazel eyes and red hair, short, a very pretty and interesting face. Anyway, this new barista served up the coffees and as I took mine I must have given ...

... off some kind of vibe, because she smirked a little as I paid up.

I eventually shook myself out of my wonderment, but from time to time I gazed in her direction. It took a mere nod for me to order my third refill, which she carried to my table. She smiled, put her tongue out slightly between her lips, and did something with her eyes that made my heart stop.

"This one's on me," she said. I watched her return to the counter, her shapely and firm backside slightly swaying -- I could tell she was muscular --and her long jeans-clad legs moving with energy.

I'd been there nearly an hour, browsing a few books I'd taken with me to pass the time, and I finally decided to call it a morning and head to work. I went to pay at the counter and the barista smiled again, much more fully, her lips curving upwards, her eyes alight, it seemed to me. I could see the outlines of her small breasts and prominent nipples beneath her white cotton blouse. There was something both exotic and unsettling about her, which piqued my interest, something intensely sensual but in a covert way.

I wasn't bad-looking myself -- fit, athletic, handsome if not dashing, in a dark sort of way, crowding 40 -- but I hadn't remembered a chick that had been so forward with me for ages. I slid a twenty her way and told her to keep the change, but she insisted on not taking a tip. She turned around briefly, and handed me a small slip of paper with the five-dollar bill. Her number.

"I'm free tonight if you ...