Perfect Stranger

I’d been talking to this girl on the internet for about 5 or 6 months now, and I felt like I really knew her. She had the same problems as me: she was doing poorly in school, her family didn’t care about her, and her friends were all lying backstabbers. I’ve never felt like I’ve ever connected with someone so much before her. But of course, there’s only so much you can believe about someone when you’ve only talked with them on the internet. Her username was Angela204, but she’d told me that her real name was Violet. False names: the first in what I was sure would be a long string of untruths. But still, even if it was only on the internet, we connected.
But when she asked to meet me, I wasn’t sure. For all I knew, she was really a 300 pound dude. I told her that I wanted to see a picture of her before we met up. The reason I gave her, as not to sound like a shallow pervert, was that I needed to be able to recognize her if we did end up meeting. All uncertainty was flushed from my mind, however, when I opened the attachment on the email she’d sent me. Even though it was only a picture of her face, I instantly fell in love. Staring at me from the monitor was a pair of bright green eyes on a flawless, slightly freckled face. Her sunny blond hair continued on farther than the photograph allowed me to see, but it’s sleek, wavy texture made me want to run my hands through it. She had the cutest pair of full, pouty lips, which were painted a bright red. I could feel my stomach (and other parts of me) beginning to get excited. My attempt to relieve my excitement was interrupted, however, by an IM from Angela204.

Angela204: Did u get the pic?
J_dodge: Ya
Angela204: And?
j_dodge: And, wow. You’re really... wow.
Angela204: Thnks. Can u send me 1 of u? Please!
j_dodge: Ya,k, 1sec.

I went to my photo library to find a good picture to send. I’m not a bad looking guy, but I wanted to send her one that might make her even half as happy as I was with hers. I’m 17 years old, about 5”10 and 160lbs. I work out when I can, but I’m not weight-lifter size. I looked for a picture that would show off my arm muscles, and one where my dark brown hair looked neat instead of its usual mess. My eyes are green, but in no way comparable to Violet’s. I selected a picture, and sent it to her. A few seconds later, she responded in the IM.

Angela204: you’re pretty wow yourself Dodge.

I hadn’t had the sense that she had in making a fake name. My name is Justin Dodge, but people just call me Dodge for short. I was glad that she found me attractive. Now I knew I couldn’t disappoint her when we met. Our relationship was pretty platonic. She was someone that I could tell everything to, and I was the same for her. We knew each other inside and out.

Angela204: So, when should we meet?
j_dodge : Soon.
Angela : Would you think I was crazy if I asked you to meet me in 20 minutes?

I was surprised by this. It was late, practically 11:30 PM, and I’d expected to have some time to prepare to meet her, not just to get up and go. Besides, after seeing her picture, I had wanted some time to relieve the pressure that was pushing at the front of my pants. But still, I really wanted to see her. I agreed to her strange meeting time, and asked her where she wanted to meet.

Angela204 : I don’t have a car, so I was hoping you could pick me up from my house.

I agreed, eager at the idea of being alone with her in the tight space of my car. Within 15 minutes, I was showered, shaved, and out the door. I guess my “little pants friend” would have to wait.

Luckily she lived fairly close. I arrived at the house within 10 minutes. It was a fair size, but I couldn’t really pay attention to the house. Walking across the driveway, towards me, was the hottest girl I have ever seen. Even though she told me that she was only 16, her body had clearly done a good job developing in the little time that it had. She was slim, with was I would estimate to be C size boobs. Not too big, but nowhere near small. I tried hard to keep my eyes from staring at them, which wasn’t hard, because I got caught in her eyes. Her face was smiling, and her green eyes sparkled and shone in the moonlight. She opened the door, and got in. I noticed that she had a perfect ass. Like literally perfect, no celebrity with any amount of plastic surgery could compare to the body that she had. She turned her head towards me, and I smelled the send that wafted towards me. It was delicious, although it didn’t smell sickeningly sweet, like perfume.

“Hi Dodge.” She said, as if I picked her up every day, rather than this being the first time that we were meeting. And I felt as though it wasn’t the first time, and as if I’d known her forever.

“Hey Violet”. It was weird, actually saying her name, rather than just typing and reading it. I liked the way it sounded on my tongue. “Was there any specific place that you wanted to go?”

“No, as long as it’s far away from here.” She said. Violet didn’t get along well with her family. Half the time they treated her poorly, and the other half they ignored her completely.

I began to drive, in the general direction of a nearby coffee shop. Taking her to coffee seemed pretty lame, but I hadn’t had much time to plan where I wanted to take her. All the while, she asked me questions, about my day, about my life, and just about me. I tried to keep up with her, but I kept getting distracted by the beautiful sound of her voice, which sounded like an angel singing. Suddenly, the questions stopped, and she told me that my seatbelt was not done up. I quickly told her that as a new driver, I was pretty paranoid about taking my hands off the wheel, and that I’d do up my seatbelt at the next red light.

“I’ll do it.” She said cheerfully, and she reached over my lap, over my chest, and over my shoulder to grab my seatbelt. I instantly felt the sexual charge that was between us. The only thing that stopped me from grabbing her right there was the fact that I was driving. She pulled the belt back across my lap, maybe lingering over my crotch a little bit too long, and then bucked it in. “You’re much a nervous driver. Relax a bit. You’re not going to crash,” she said. I knew I was a nervous driver, but I didn’t want her to know that. “Nervous? Me? Never! Look ma, no hands.” I took my hands off the wheel, ignoring the blinding panic that washed over me, and put them on my lap. All of a sudden, her hand was in mine, still on my lap. Not having had the opportunity to relieve myself earlier, I began to get hard. Her hand was in mine, dangerously close to my crotch. When I tried to shift in my seat to relieve the pressure, I heard her let out a small giggle.
Just as I was beginning to enjoy having her hand so close, she removed it from my lap, and from inside my hand. She leaned over to give me a sort of one-armed hug.

“You really are a horrible driver.” She said, in a tone so light that I could never mistake it for an insult. That was one of the amazing things that I had noticed about her, not only in the half hour that we’d been driving, but over the internet as well. She was always truthful, and she could point out your flaws in a way that would make you feel like she was congratulating you on being unique and special.

“Can I drive?” She asked, her eyes open wide, making me notice how young she really was, even if it was only one year younger ...

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