Pagan Sex Goddess (PSG)

PSG

She described herself as a Pagan Sex Goddess, that was enough to get me hooked! I had always assumed the last of those to have died out with Conan of Aquilonia. How wrong can you be
Far from living in the Hyperborian age though, this one so I discovered, lived but a metaphoric hop, skip and a bungee-jump from the Grand Canyon itself. How did I find her?….I didn’t. She found me!
Any reader of my deviate writings would have worked out by now that I have – if not a fixation, then a deep ‘appreciation’ let’s say, of youthful femininity. When such describe themselves additionally, as a Pagan Sex Goddess, it is most definitely time for some meaningful investigative follow-up.
PSG had a name as it turned out – Katie. This may or may not be her real name, I’ll let you decide that! What was real however, is the photograph she sent me. But hey, I’m jumping ahead of myself here.
Katie is yet another girl who likes reading naughty stuff. I know this – because she told me. Now, given that I occasionally write naughty stuff, it should come as no surprise that the day arrived, an email turned-up in my inbox from Miss Twisted in Colorado asking clarification of certain aspects relating to a couple of stories I had posted to a certain website that shall remain nameless.
Her initial somewhat pretentious “How could you even think of doing stuff like that?” soon morphed into a more honest, “Tell me more about it!” line of questioning. Fact is – she had been getting-off on it big-time for quite a while and like all young girls…was just sexually curious as all Hell. With three teenage nymphs myself….been through that learning curve!
So yeah…she sent me her photograph, confessed to faving just turned eighteen, as well as categorizing herself as I mentioned – a Pagan Sex Goddess to boot.
It was her photo did it. Perhaps not classically beautiful in the accepted sense of the word – she was however classically attractive and I’m sure she herself would understand my inference and take no offense at my words here. Let’s be honest though – no-one rating themselves PSG could be anything but hot stuff.
When you get right down to it – emailing is fine but there comes a point in some relationships – and if you think about it, that is what they really are at their most basic – that simply isn’t enough. Sure, you can hook up a mike, connect your web-cam, but what ultimately could be less tasteful than demanding the girl “shows you her pussy” while you jerk off one-handedly all over the keyboard. Lacks a certain flair doesn’t it? Not exactly showing her one hundred percent respect either. Mind you – any girl willing to thus perform doesn’t get my vote anyway I’m afraid!
So PSG was getting to me. I wanted to meet her and in fact during one brief conversation on her cell-phone, confided as much. Whilst I sensed her reciprocated interest, there was the small matter of a thirty-seven year age gap not to mention the trifling ten-thousand mile, continents apart inconvenience. I also told her quite frankly that were she my daughter, there is no way she would be meeting anyone off the Net any place, any time for whatever reason. As for the geriatric status of her ‘admirer,’ I would be recommending an urgent call to the FBI. Thing is though – no girl who freely admits to the world they are a “Pagan Sex Goddess” is gonna pay too much attention to what anybody has to say.
Now as it happens, I usually travel to Vegas each year for a major dot.com marketing convention, if for no other reason, to pick up any new technology that might be on offer and that won’t be seen in Australia for possibly several months. I was actually scheduled to attend the next one in just a few weeks. Relaying this to Katie, I mentioned that it would be a simple matter for me to fly on to Denver and then back-track to her own home-town for a night. For some reason she seemed to trust me implicitly. On the other hand, maybe the concept of being molested in broad daylight if not raped silly by a complete stranger appealed to her. It does have its bizarre attractions when you think of it!
Katie herself lives, as she was quite happy to disclose, in the rather pretty little township of Conifer, right at the foothills of John Denver’s beloved Rocky mountains in Jefferson County. At the junction of US Routes 74 and 285, Conifer is barely twenty three miles south west of Denver city.
Winging into Denver Airport a few weeks later, having rung Katie from Vegas, I picked up a Grand Am from Alamo and headed-off down Highway 285. For a town with a population of less than fifteen thousand people, this was anything but hicksville. Having made an advance booking with the Clifton Hotel Inn, I had first to find 12414 US Highway 285. Well seeing as I could count – that proved no major problem. Beautiful little place too – real throwback to the 1800’s and not dollar and dime stuff either! The manageress in reception was perhaps overly dour to start with – very much a “You won’t be staying here long will you sir?” kind of air about her. Won her over at the point I told her how appealing a lodging she appeared to preside over.