My Own Private Carolina (Part 1)

Christina invited me to sit with her on the front porch. We sat, sipping our tea, shaded by the swaying shadow of an old Spanish moss draped live oak. She asked me where I lived, seeming eager to make conversation. I told her I’d been in Atlanta since I finished college. I learned that she was 23 and was from a hamlet upstate even smaller than my hometown. It turned out that we’d both attended the same university, albeit many years apart. Christina appeared genuinely happy to have someone to talk to. Then, suddenly, in the middle of our pleasant chit-chat, she blurted out, “Do you want to go see a movie with me?” Despite being caught slightly off guard, I quickly accepted her invitation, “Sure,” I said, “Let’s do it!” Christina explained that she only got one evening off each week when the nurse stayed overnight. As luck would have it, that night was tonight. “I’d just as soon not go alone.” she continued. As she talked, I was utterly transfixed by the sight of her. Her eyes reminded me of milk chocolate. Her flawless sunkissed complexion invited touch. We settled on plans for me to pick her up at 6:30. She gave me her phone number

When I pulled up at the Johnson house Christina was waiting on the porch. I stepped out and opened the passenger door of my truck and she hopped in. She thanked me for driving. “I’m always scared when I have to drive Grandpa’s caddy. God, he loves that car!,” Christina said. She was dressed in a short, light yellow sundress and apparently no bra: because the prominent nipples on her little breasts were hard to miss through the insubstantial cotton fabric of her dress. I could just make out the faint outline of white panties stretched across her ample ass. Her plump legs were beautifully smooth and tan, and the white flip flops on her small feet revealed sweet little toes adorned with pale pink nail polish. Her soft, golden brown hair flowed loosely across the tops of her shoulders. She wore little makeup save for a hint of pink gloss on her pouty lips, and a touch of blush accenting the dimples on her cheeks. We drove to the old, two-screen theater downtown. Christina wanted to see the latest Marvel superhero offering, so we bought our tickets and took our seats on the front row. She seemed to thoroughly enjoy the movie, but I was watching her. I was utterly captivated seeing her gasp and laugh.