1. FLOWERS AND STEMS


    Date: 8/28/2016, Categories: Masturbation, Trans, Voyeur, Author: FetishFreddie, Source: xHamster

    She 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. &#034Do you like women?&#034 she asked looking straight ahead. I nodded. 'Do you like men too?&#034 Äre you a professional?&#034 I asked. 'No, I am in heat.&#034 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.&#034 &#034It's an intimate question.&#034 'I can tell you have been with men.&#034 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. &#034A little bit of both.&#034 She giggled not losing too much breath. &#034Ädventurous people are often bored between adventures.&#034 People walked by, some lugging luggage. She took my hand leading it to her thigh. &#034Feel free to go anywhere you like.&#034 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 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. &#034Maybe we should go to the bar,&#034she whispered. There were some seats vacant at the corner. A mixed bunch of patrons, hunched over their phones or drinks, an ...
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