In
the small but thriving English county of Downshire people go about the tasks of
their everyday existence in ways that range from the mundane to the
extraordinary as their forebears had done for centuries before, in the varied
and diverse landscape, from the Ancient forests of Dancingdean and Pepperstock,
the craggy ridges and manmade lakes of the Pepperstock Hills National Park, the
rolling hills of the Downshire Downs, to the beautiful Finchbottom Vale and the
short but beautiful coastline to the east.
But
it’s in the old market town of Abbeyvale where the participants of this
particular tale live their lives, and the tale began as Christmas fast
approached.
Morella Garcia sat alone drinking black coffee in
Labuschagne’s Coffee House, just killing some time, and she noticed her instantly
as she entered, Yolanda Torres, and she was powerless to resist the movement of
her eyes, as like magnets they were drawn towards the striking young woman and
her stunning beauty.
Her eyes
were glued on Yolanda’s form as she removed her coat. At first her hair
appeared black as a raven's wing as it caressed the dark caramel skin of her
shoulders, but with the sun shining through the fine strands they betrayed its
true brunette nature.
But out of
the sun her hairs dark lustre framed the simple beauty of her face, which
Morella studied as she took another sip.
Firstly her full moist lips which broadened into a smile, the delicate curve of
her small nose and the hypnotic depth of her dark brown eyes which looked back
at her and held her gaze, and as if reading Morella’s thoughts they burned
through her and touched her soul.
Yolanda was distracted momentarily so her eyes wandered the soft brown
nakedness of her neck and shoulders until reaching her bountiful breasts, where
white lace fringed their fullness, she met her eyes again and her smile
broadened and her cheeks flushed as if she could feel the tingling of her
loins.
Yolanda
turned away and she continued her lustful journey, the cloth of her trousers
fitted her firm buttocks like a second skin hugging her contours as Morella
longed to do.
As she sat
down at an adjacent table and her gaze once more returned to the plumpness of
her fine young breasts as they rearranged themselves within their lacy
confines.
And then
their eyes met again, and she smiled, knowing her thoughts, and reveling in
them.
The
blushing Spanish maiden had to look away and fumbled in her bag while she
regained her composure as the embers’ glowed within her of what could become an
unquenchable fire.
She took
out a cigarette in her slender fingers and Morella noticed her hand tremble for
a moment before placing it between her luscious lips and she envied its
intimacy with her mouth.
Morella
reached across and the void between their tables and offered her a light.
Yolanda
smiled as she lit it and then joined her where she bought her coffee and they
talked and laughed, then drank more coffee and talked and laughed some more.
Her eyes
still took every opportunity to peruse her fine young body as she was held
captive by her Spanish eyes, but as she looked upon her sweet face, they were
only biding their time until the moment when Yolanda would use her to quell the
fire uncontrollably burning inside her and Morella would look into her Spanish
eyes as her pretty face contorted in orgasmic bliss.
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