FLOWERS AND STEMS

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FLOWERS AND STEMSShe set herself next to me on the couch in the lobby of the hotel I was staying. I was in a lousy mood and everything to lift me up was welcome. I had noticed that elegant strut that only Asian women have and the short summer cotton skirt that made her look younger than she was. Mid thirties, straight short black hair, her white shirt showing a promising decolleté.”Do you like women?” she asked looking straight ahead.I nodded.’Do you like men too?”Äre you a professional?” I asked.’No, I am in heat.” She replied off-handedly.We hadn’t looked at eachother and I felt she wanted to keep it way. Like two spies exchanging information.’You haven’t aswered my question yet.””It’s an intimate question.”‘I can tell you have been with men.”She was right, only that I found their bodies always lacking the feminine softness. But sucking dick and playing around it had always been a joy. I had one myself, so knew how to handle them with ultimate care or destruction.I only told her the first part.She said that my accent told her I was a foreigner, so I must either be adventurous or bored to hell.”A little bit of both.”She giggled not losing too much breath.”Ädventurous kütahya escort people are often bored between adventures.”People walked by, some lugging luggage.She took my hand leading it to her thigh.”Feel free to go anywhere you like.” She let her hand go.There seemed to be light at the end of my hangover -tunnel and I decided to tease her to death. My fingers crawled up to the skirt, but instead of going underneath my fingers spidered over the gree and yellow fabric. If she was in heat I might as well get her burning. Burning with desire.One of my primitive instincts I am always urge to celebrate is smell, so turned my face to her and did some subtle but serious sniffing.There was hardly a sent of parfume, but there was serotones, oriental herbs and undeniable promise. My first girlfriend had been Indonesian, deflowering was in the air.As my human 5-legged insect was slowly finding its way to the crossroad, the intersection where the devil waits I felt some movement underneath. My breath stopped which she must have noticed.She turned to me, spreading her lips slightly.I looked at her, noticed her green swimming eyes, what made her istanbul escort even excotic. Then I looked down and noticed a movement in her skirt. From her crotch to the seam. I put an arm behind her on her shloulders and kissed her, licking her lips gently. Her tongue found mine. Meanwhile my other hand was stroking the bulge that arose underneath the cotton. A little tent arose. I kept stroking till my hand felt more than just cotton, but some solid human tissue while my ear was overpoured with a hissing sound.She wasn’t the only one fighting a loss of breathcontrol.”Maybe we should go to the bar,”she whispered.There were some seats vacant at the corner.A mixed bunch of patrons, hunched over their phones or drinks, an atmos[here you find in any hotelbar at 3 PM in San FranciscoI ordered two sake that come in those cute flasks. The ultimate hangover cure, if she wasn’t one.We didn’t care to toast, just poured are warm drink in the porcelain cup and were silent.I had positoned myself against the wall so had the 45 degrees advantage. I took it. Slid my hand underneath the skirt till my hands found the still erect devil that reared hatay escort its head immediately. Women in heat don’t deal with underwear. Even if they are otherwise equiped.Her eyeballs lifted to the ceiling with a sigh. I stroked a little feeling with delight her blood pumping through the vessels of her joystick.Then withdrew sitting straight up next to her to have another sip.Lifting the glass with one hand, the other started unbuttoning her shirt from underneath the bar. Women in heat don’t deal with bras either.I felt her breasts in only one heated stroke , firm and joyful. Caught a glimpse of a purple nipple. Same purple as Sylvia’s then, my sambal girl.So far I had managed to keep all eyes away from our actions, except ofcourse from those of the implecible clad barman who was the true professional here.”I dare uou to show me a nipple here and now.””Is this true or dare?””I’m European, I never understood this true-or dare-thing. I dare you to show me a nipple. But slowly.””And then I can dare you?”If anyone liked adventures it was her!Could I not join her?Teasingly her fingers moved the fronts of her shirt apart and she gave me both. Then she folded one part back, turned around and flashed one of her tinted breasts for all to see in slowmotion.Just one guy, blond, stetson hat, early 20-s, looked up from his cellphone screaming: “Hiroshima, Mon Amour!”By then I felt her hand unzipping my fly. She bent over her mouth to my ear.”You must have a room here.”TBC.

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