Note: All texts, actions and people on this page are fiction and freely invented and sent by our readers. They should not serve for any form of illegal acts.
I was able to get a job as a service in the “Café Dante” for the semester break. These were coveted jobs, not only because they were paid well and there were tips, but also because an interesting audience ran in the “Café Dante”, especially students and life artists. And mostly men! I enjoyed presenting me how the life of these men I looked like when they left the café again, what they studied, whether they had children or spouses, which professions they exercised, yes and also with the one orothers how he would be in bed? Not that I was looking for, no, I had a permanent friend with whom I was also happy, but what we sexually put together was only part of what I experienced in my imagination with one or the other guestwhen I took a shower after work or was alone in my bed.
I was 23 years old, sexually curious and without exaggerating a rather attractive appearance with my long dark hair, a slim figure, not too big breasts and a firm and small but round butt, which I mostly wore the jeans that I mostly wore,well filled. I want my body and feel good when I was naked, in the sauna for example. I didn’t have to hide and I didn’t want to hide either, enjoyed it much more when I felt the men looked at me because I liked them.
The sex with my friend, as beautiful as he was, didn’t fill me. Again and again I had to breastfeed my lust myself with my fingers, the shower jet or recently with a wonderful slim Dildo, which I had bought for my back entrance when I wanted to increase the desire that my fingers prepared me. Then I pushed it into my buttocks, imagined it to be a real one tail Was who made its way into my anus and often experienced a fantastic orgasm.
For a few days now a man in the café had been particularly taken with me. He always came alone, sat as far as possible in a corner or the wall, sometimes stayed for several hours and always wrote something in a small notebook. It may have been around fifty, the hair briefly but slightly grayed. Otherwise he didn’t look old at all. Clear brown eyes, slim, a friendly smile and elegant clothing distinguished him.
He drank almost only coffee, sometimes a beer, otherwise he was busy with himself and his notebook. And sometimes I caught him that he looked at me, or I only formed it? In any case, it didn’t bother me, because I found him attractive and personable and was happy when I could bring him something. What did he do here? He had no work? Or was he a writer, a journalist? The longer he sat there and wrote there, the more curious I became, but of course I didn’t dare to address him.
And then the incredible happened. He had paid, as in the last few days with a smile and a good tip, had dressed his coat a short time later, and had gone kindly and had gone. When I went to his table to clean up and prepare everything for a next guest again, I saw the notebook immediately. It was just there on the table. Had he forgot or left it on purpose? I took it to myself and briefly considered what to do now.
Certainly he would come back right or the next day and ask for it. Until then I would keep it and then give it back to him. But shouldn’t I look in at least once to breastfeed my curiosity, there was no more time at work anyway? I couldn’t resist and quickly leaf through the sides. Almost half of the booklet was fully written with a even handwriting. I leafed back to the first page and read: “What a beautiful young woman? Whether she knows about her erotic charisma? If she comes to my table to bring my coffee ordered, I can hardly hold myself back.
I would like to address her, take your hand, invite you. “I stopped reading confused and quickly pushed the booklet into my pocket. What should that mean? Was talking about me? Why did he write something like this in his notebook? The thoughts whirled up in my head and I had trouble concentrating on my work again. And so it stayed the rest of the afternoon: my thoughts were always at the booklet in my pocket, I was scattered in the orders and made mistakes that did not otherwise happen to me and every time I opened the door I expected it, it was,who missed his notebook.
But when I finally Quitting time Had, he had still not come, and so I decided to take the booklet home with me. Nobody but me had noticed anything about the find, and if he came back the next day, I could give it back to him. I also had to admit to myself that I wanted to know what the content was actually all about. So a little later I sat on my bed with a hot tea, where I would like to make it comfortable to read, and again opened the first page of the notebook: “What a beautiful, young woman? Whether she knows about her erotic charisma? If she comes to my table to bring my coffee ordered, I can hardly hold myself back.
I would like to address her, take your hand, invite you. But I’m too shy and I know that doesn’t work. I don’t want anger and I don’t want to bother you if she is one of the women who do not know or do not want to have their own lust, maybe even afraid of it. Besides, I don’t want to make myself ridiculous;It is at most half as old as me, and I am sure in her eyes an old cracker.
But her look says something else – I think – but maybe I’ll only imagine it. In any case, I would give some things about learning more about them and even more so to get to know them closely. Whether she has a friend? Whether you, like me, love the game of eroticism? Oh, I know what I would do with her, give her, and if I can’t live it in real life, then I can do it here in this booklet in my imagination.
Thoughts are free!No, she wouldn’t have to put on something else. It doesn’t matter what she wears, her charisma shows itself in every presentation. Your eyes, her hands, your friendly being. I ask you to at my table and we forget what is happening around us. We just sit there and look into each other’s eyes. Then I take your hand, gently stroke over it and caress your fingers, your palm, the wrist, the forearm. When she closes her eyes, I know that she understands the language of the body.
I gently stroke her face with one hand, on her neck, behind her ear. “Come on,” I say, “let’s go, I want to show you something, give something. “And she stands without any questions, without resistance, I take it by the hand and we leave the café. Then we are in my apartment. When I close the door behind us, we stop in the hallway. I take her face in both hands and kiss her gently, on the mouth, on the eyes, my nose and back on the mouth, where her lips open up to me.
Our tongues play together, my hands carefully feel their body and I feel their hands on me. I don’t know how long we’re there, but I’m still feeling her mouth now, I smell her delicate skin. We don’t need words. We have no hurry, no greed. It is simply a matter of course how we start to open each other’s clothes and gradually pull out until we are both naked. Then I take your hand again and take her into the bathroom, where we go under the warm shower together, clean our bodies, caress, dry, dry each other.
I don’t know how it would be if we were actually there together what she would do with me, but here in my imagination I want to give her gift, prepare your lust. Wrapped in our bathing towels, I lead them into the living room, not to the sofa, but to the large dining table behind it. When your butt touches the edge of the table, we take our arms again and our mouths will find each other. I lift her slightly on the table so that she sits in front of me and start to slide deeper with my kisses, always follow my hands following, which open the towel from her face over her neck, her cleavage and trace the way to her perfect breath, until they finally comprise and press them and my lips, my tongue stimulate the solid buds, play around, lick and lick in warm breath and saliva.
She supports herself with her arms, watches my actions for a while, then closes her eyes, and leaves my tenderness. I stay that my hands show my mouth the way and so she can still feel my lips on her breasts, licking and licking and sucking on her buds, while my fingers are slowly looking for the way between her legs. I feel the warmth that welcomes me there as my finger gently slide through her pubic hair until my hand lies on its middle.
I can’t call it her shame because she opens up shamelessly, very natural, so that my fingers can feel and explore everything. My middle finger strokes her already wet column, opens the lips and dives in her heat without lingering there. He strokes it, touched in the sliding by the little pearl on the top, which is already clearly noticeable and then moistened the furrows on the right and left of their column.
I take as much of your wet as I need to wet your whole middle and I feel how your breathing gets faster and louder. Is there something nicer than preparing another person and feeling their growing excitement? While my fingers caress her column my tongue slowly paves the way there. I stay on her navel and then put a little kisses on her lower abdomen. Finally I gently press her on the table in lying position and take a chair on which I sit between your legs.
And then I do something that she may not have expected. I take your left foot and also lift it onto the edge of the table, then I tenderly stroke my hands over it, massage the toes and stroke my finger into the gaps. Finally I add my mouth and kiss her foot, her toes, suck on it, gliding with the tongue in between. I don’t want to tickle them, but stimulate them with my tongue in these sensitive areas.
I lift my foot again and lick with a wide and flat tongue and firmly over different areas of the sole, several times and then again between the toes, wet and warm. Then I take the other foot and let him get the same tenderness. Finally, her feet are on the table, but the legs are highly apart, so that their gender is damp and open to my gaze. I breath and breaths tender warm air over it and feel their reaction.
I take my hands and pull your lips carefully but wide and push my tongue into the opening that shows me. And then I start licking them extensively and intensively. When I finally approach the tip of her pearl with the tip of her pearl, I carefully push a finger into your wet hole and spread the inner walls of your vagina. I suck, I nibble and roll the clit between my lips and I have to be careful not to get too intense for her.
I feel how she reacts more to my tongue game, twitches and winds, but then I feel her hands on my head as she holds on to me and presses me so that I just don’t stop. I don’t have that at all because I really enjoy it myself. But I want to try something else. I ask you to turn around and put my stomach on the table.
She does it without contradiction. Her legs stand at some distance on the floor, her upper body is on the table and in front of my hands and eyes is her wonderful buttocks, whose back baking I now apart so that I can see her wet column again. But your back entrance is also right in front of me, closed, narrow and surrounded by a wreath of small furrows. I imagine that maybe no one has ever touched her there when I gently put a finger on this middle.
I dive briefly into her wet gender and then again on yours rosette. And the same game again. Now she also begins to shine there damp. And then I take my tongue and lick from her column once over your back entrance. And then I linger there, take alternately over it and feel about how she tanges and closes and yet fought against it, because she actually wants to open this gate, but it is so difficult to relax there initially.
To help her and go one step further, I finally get a household candle and cream. And then I take the time and brush my finger on the cream and into your rosette. Again and again I slide my fingertip, leave it there until I feel how they relax again and then I carefully widen the opening. It is getting better and better to relax and keep going and dark red shows me this second opening.
And finally I push the candle smeared with cream. And she goes far into it. The wax is hard and yet warm and soft quickly. I hear her moans when I almost pull out the candle and then push it in again, as if it were my penis with which I penetrate it into it. For the final, I ask you to turn around again and put them on the table again. The candle is in her buttocks.
I carefully move her into her while my mouth finds her column again and her hands press me firmly to her. She pours and shrugs under my licking and sucking and the candle in her butt gives her an additional charm, an intense, and she can and does not want to stop orgasm. It explodes and cramps with the whole body. My head is between her thighs like in a vice and my mouth is flooded with her wet.
It only becomes calmer after a while and leaves my head back. “Up to here I had read without a break and did not put the book on my hand. But my other hand was automatically slipped into my lap, in my panties, in mine pussy, which had become more than moist when reading. I let myself be captured completely, modeled what she experienced on the table there, moaned, trembled and now I was also about to come.
But I wanted it right, like in the booklet, so I got my dildo, closed my eyes and fantasized myself back into the story just read. I felt his fingers touched me when the dildo touched my back entrance. I experienced how he pushed the candle into me and I felt his lips on my pussy when I stroked and rubbed firmly as I liked it, and the dildo slid into my buttocks until an intense orgasm rolled over andrupture.
I knew that the story in the booklet went even further. But should I actually read more? My lust was satisfied for the time being, but my curiosity? Where did all of this lead? Why had he written it down and didn’t just experience it in his imagination? I looked at the clock. I still had time;I only had an appointment with my boyfriend in the evening. And what if he asked the booklet back tomorrow? At least I wanted to know whether there had been another reason to express all of this except that his lustful imagination expressed.
And I didn’t know that actually I was meant, even though I couldn’t imagine anything else and would have been disappointed, I enjoyed the idea that he had had sex with me in his thoughts, had gave me. So I reached for the booklet again and read on: “Did you like it? It was just my imagination what I could do with you. Maybe you have completely different preferences.
Maybe you are disappointed that I didn’t get on the train. Maybe you would have liked to spoil me with your hands, your mouth. Maybe you would have asked to feel myself in you. I can color myself in my thoughts. I see how you go on my knees in front of me and encompass my cock with your hands. I see how you do that foreskin Slowly pull down and then start with your tongue to spoil me.
I feel your lips close around my glans, your tongue teases the little ribbon on the underside. Then you lick the whole length from the root to the tip. And again, before you let him disappear into your mouth again and try to record as much as possible. I imagine how you are driving me more and more into madness. I get harder and restless. I know that I can’t hold it back long anymore.
But this time you want to determine what is happening. You look me in the eye while my penis slides between your lips. You keep me firmly with your eyes while you spoil my glans in your mouth sucking and sucking. I don’t know how you like it, whether you want to feel and taste in your mouth, how I twitch and pour myself? Whether you want to see how my seed splashes towards you, in the face, on your breasts? Whether you let me come in your hands trembling? Or whether you stop at an early stage, strip a condom over and then want to take up in you? It’s your choice.
I see your wonderful butt again in front of me when you lie on the table in front of me. How to pull the cheeks apart until your back entrance is open in front of me. How to distribute the cream on your rosette and my glans and then slowly push my cock into you. I feel your tightness. I feel your lust, your excitement. I see your fingers hike to your pussy and you stroke yourself while I push myself into your buttocks.
And again you have the choice. Should I come in you and fill the condom that of course I use or should I inject my seed on your back entrance? Do you want to feel how the drops wet you, how I distribute my juice on your buttocks and stroke you and caress?My imagination has little limits. I love it tenderly and lustfully. I love to give it, clean and so that it gives joy and no disgust.
And your no is of course a limit. But what I do too, it only remains my imagination. And I don’t know if you know something about my thoughts when you come to my table. Whether you would be horrified or pleased if you knew what I am writing about you about us? Whether you would like to be presented or whether you would throw me out, maybe even show if I tell you about my thoughts?.
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