Dominique Leads the Way???

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20

Being seated on the open terrace of a café facing a broad square in warm sun watching the world go by and sipping at my second glass of the palest pink local rosé in April was ranking as one of the real pleasures of life. I had nowhere else to be, no one else to please; I was holidaying on my own in one of the most beautiful parts of the world.

My sunlight was suddenly partially blocked as drowsily I tried to read my book. I looked up to see a couple about my age and a younger woman, I presumed the couple’s daughter. They stood on the terrace facing away from me, as if to find a free table: the terrace was busy, it was apparently the warmest and sunniest day for some weeks.

I observed the group. Usually, I have only a passing interest in the beauty of young women, my attraction being towards mature women of near and older my own age, mid-fifties. I guessed this young lady to be eighteen or nineteen, so I was more drawn to observing her mother, well-dressed, well-groomed and a confident manner – everything to stir my casual interest.

Just then, the breeze that had been rustling the square’s traditional plane trees swept on to the terrace. It caught the very short skirt of the younger woman’s brown sleeveless soft dress and revealed the tops of suntanned thighs, the small roundness of her suntanned buttocks and a thin triangle between them of black and white-patterned panties.

‘What an unexpected treat,’ I smiled to myself. It was certainly a very attractive sight, delicious, I thought. As I watched, the woman’s hand reached down to brush her skirt back in position. At the same time, she turned towards the side of the terrace where I sat I assumed to look for any empty tables in this direction. Her gaze fixed on me as I was still staring back at her. My eyes were hidden by dark glasses, but she seemed to sense they were looking directly back at her.

She turned back to her parents but in her movement a pamphlet or map dropped from her hand. bahis firmaları With a slow deliberate movement, she bent over to retrieve the document before the breeze could take it away. She did not squat or crouch down: she bent over. There could be only one reason she did so – and yes, as I stared the short skirt of her dress rode up and the full flesh of her tanned buttocks was staring back at me. I even had a brief moment to realise the pattern on her panties was black flowers on a white background.

She stood back up as her mother scolded her for not bending down properly – I couldn’t tell whether out of propriety or concern for her daughter’s back. The young woman turned slightly behind her and caught me again staring, the barest hint of a smile playing on her mouth. I offered back a similar smile, and, with the slightest of movements open to any interpretation, tipped the glass of rosé I had in my hand towards her and drank down the last gulp.

I made a spur of the moment decision. Standing up from the table, I called out to the couple, in my clumsy French, Madame, Monsieur – I am leaving, please take my table. All three now turned in my direction as I picked up my bill and reached for my wallet. Politenesses were exchanged as a waiter stepped forward, took my bill and the twenty euro note and started to fuss over his new clients who were thanking me as they walked past to the table. If anyone had cared to look, there was a now prominent bulge in my admittedly tightish trousers.

As I walked away, I called back more loudly than necessary to the waiter – Monsieur, les toilettes? – knowing full well that the facilities were situated down a wooden staircase in the main building along a narrow but brightly lit corridor.

I set off down the stairs. As I neared the landing where they turned, I was both neither surprised nor anything but very excited to hear the flip-flop of casual flat sandals that I had no doubt belonged to the young woman. kaçak iddaa I did not look back but walked on.

There were four cubicles, two for women, two for men, and shared wash basins. An elderly man was washing his hands. I walked past as he put his hands under the electric drier and went into the cubicle at the end, but I did not shut the door. I stood expectantly facing the wall, unzipping my trousers and reaching for my still swelling cock.

Sure enough, I heard the door squeak open some more as heavy footsteps disappeared back up the corridor. I turned around slowly. It was the young woman, pushing the door behind her. She glanced down at the erection I held in my right hand.

“Monsieur, is that because of me?” she asked. My French was good enough to understand her, then to explain to her:

“And for you, if you would like?” It was a very tentative remark, barely a question.

“Please, Monsieur,” and with that she got to her knees and taking hold of my now very stiff hardness pulled it into her mouth. Sucking quickly I was soon quite simply fucking her mouth, holding onto her head, my hands relishing being full of her long curly brown hair.

She slipped off my cock and stood up.

“Please, Monsieur,” she said again, now turning around to bend over facing the door and pulling the quickly revealed black and white panties aside. Mesmerised I watched as her right hand plunged into the front of those panties and was swiftly brought around to the crack between her buttocks. Two fingers were frantically pushed against them through the sweetest little rosebud.

“I am a virgin,” she said breathing heavily.

An extremely well-educated virgin, it would seem, but that was only a fleeting thought, I understood what she meant and what she intended for me to do.

I got to my knees, I felt a little extra lubrication would help and frankly I wanted to taste something so young and sweet. I pressed my tongue against her and kaçak bahis she removed her fingers to allow me full access. Saliva filling my mouth, I licked and kissed and probed with my tongue, relishing in her mixed juices and the muskiness I found.

“Enough,” she called out.

I stood up and with only the slightest of hesitations pressed my cock hard against her now very wet anus and slid my head in. She let out a low muffled ‘yes’ and pushed back against me. On the edge of both our thoughts was that there was little time so this had to be quick and quick here meant raw. She pushed and pulled back against me strongly as I thrust into and almost out of her sweet ass. I was vaguely aware that she was frantically rubbing her pussy but I was losing control as I filled her and plunged her with my hardness. I did feel her start to spasm and make several more guttural sounds until an ‘oomph’ signalled a hard thrust back against me and I exploded as she came.

There was no time to savour our moment together right then. I pulled out of her gently, quickly, but tenderly stroked the left of the two buttocks that had just several minutes earlier captured only my imagination and now this, my sex. Tucking myself back into my trousers I flushed the cistern and stepped out of the cubicle. It was all quiet and the young woman walked past me with a smile and into one of the ladies’ cubicles.

I wasn’t quite sure of the etiquette here: this was not a regular occurrence in my life. I decided it would be better to leave separately and set off up the stairs. I had to walk past the woman’s parents, who proceeded to smile at me and thank me again. The man even stood up to shake the hand that moments before had affectionately stroked his daughter’s buttock after we had both orgasmed as I had quite simply and basically fucked her ass. It was surreal.

We were still talking with the man asking me where I was from, did I like the town, how long I was staying when the daughter reappeared.

“Ah, Dominique, there you are,” said the man.

I smiled again and as Dominique, smiling more to herself, sat down, I turned and walked away, thinking, she’ll go far, Dominique, with that name.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00353 515 73 20

Leave a Reply

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak. Gerekli alanlar * ile işaretlenmişlerdir