I’d met Kat a few years before. I’d been in London for work and gone out to the pub one evening. I sipped my beer alone and enjoyed a mince pie and mash. I was fine being alone. The day had been long and I found I was getting exhausted. Flagging the bar man, I’d paid my tab and turned to go. Halfway through the crowd, I’d heard a voice calling after me.
“Excuse me!” I’d turned to see a striking woman who appeared to be in her early 30s. She’d worn her red hair long, spilling down her back. Her eyes were blue and she was covered in cute freckles. I was speechless, mouth open.
“You’ve left your wallet,” she’d said, extending it out to me with a smile. Her lips, I’d noticed, were stained a light purple from the red wine in her hand.
“Ohh wow! Thanks so much!” I’d replied. “I can’t believe I almost left that.” And then, feeling my way, I’d said, “Generosity like that deserves a reward. Can I buy your next drink.”
She’d said that would be lovely. I ended up buying our next 3 rounds. She was quiet, a bit shy, but very sweet with a wicked sense of humor once she started opening up. She’d been visiting London that week but she actually lived a couple of hours train ride north.
I’d put her in a cab that night and walked back to my hotel. She’d given me her number and made me promise I’d keep in touch. I thought I’d made a new friend. I had made much more than that.
——–
Walking around to the back of her house, I found Katya in her garden. Her lovely legs, dotted and splashed with freckles stretched out in front of her, propped on a chair. Her laptop open, she was sipping coffee and hadn’t heard me yet. I stood a moment and watched her stretch. The lean muscles taut down her legs. Her short shorts so small, I could see where the bottom of her thigh ended and the curve of her ass began. I stared. Aroused as much by the view as what I’d learned about her in the couple of years since we’d met.
I’d stayed in contact with her via texts and occasionally calls. We’d learned quite a bit about each other. More than that. I now knew how she sounded when she made herself cum. And she knew the same about me. I knew what she liked to hear in bed. And she knew how I liked to be touched. We had an intimacy of distance that was as liberating as it was restrictive.
When I finally made it back to England after a few years. The first thing I did was book a ticket on a train up from London to visit. I’d told her my train was 2 hours later than it was. I wanted her to know I was coming. But I wanted to surprise her.
“Good morning!” I said, my voice slightly raised and echoing around her garden.
“Oh my god,” she said, jumping up and walking towards me, her arms outstretched. She was even more beautiful than the last time I’d seen her in person. The sun had brought out her freckles more, reddened her hair. She threw her arms around my neck and, then, awkwardly, our lips almost touching, she kissed both of my cheeks while my hands rested on her waist.
“You’re here early!” She said, backing up and smiling into my eyes. She stood just a few inches shorter than me. A lean athletic build that gave way to the soft round breasts I could make our under her tank top.
“I wanted to surprise you.” Forcing my eyes away from her body, focusing on her face. “Caught an early train.”
“Well you have surprised me!” She said, delighted. “I’m just finishing some work. Can I get you anything? A coffee? Tea? Beer?”
“No,” I laughed. “I’m had a lot of vodka on the train.”
She returned my laugh as we walked back to her garden chairs and laptop. “I’ll have just a bit of work to finish up, and I’m all yours.”
Things were pleasant, but they felt a bit awkward. A bit forced. When we sat, she started to put her feet up on the empty chair across from her, but I saw her consider and she put them in my lap instead. Then she pulled her laptop to her and began to type.
We’d joked about playing dot to dot with her freckles in our chats and phone calls. As she typed, I made our chat, our long distance eroticism, real. With one gentle fingertip, I traced her freckles. Up a thigh just above the knee. Higher to the next dot. The next freckle.
I saw her watching me over the screen of her laptop. Then, goosebumps springing up all down her legs, she slammed down the lid and stood, quickly straddling my legs with hers, she bent to kiss me. Our lips came together hard, wanting. Needing.
“Fuck,” she moaned against me, “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.”
It had been years of longing. Reading. Hearing. Needing. Wanting. Having a taste, a fraction. And now, it was all exploding out of us. My hands threaded into her hair, I groaned back, “Fuck yes, Red, me too! I couldn’t get here fast enough.”
Slowly grinding on my lap, she asked. “Shall we go inside?”
Part 2: [Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/w5dj08/the_time_a_work_trip_led_to_my_m39_new_redheaded/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/w5dhyk/the_time_a_work_trip_led_to_my_m39_new_redheaded
A mince pie and mash?! Nice try, my friend, but that one’s not going to slip past unnoticed
I would have about fainted if a lady like Kat had told me, “Excuse me!” and I would have probably booked all the London trains for a chance to sleep with her. The freckle game, oooooof.