Time to migrate then, because it's summer in Australia tomorrow!
Thank you!
I was in Sydney for a few days in mid-November.
), and after a while I sat on the bed's edge opposite him, touching my legs "innocently" and describing at length how I had used my hairbrush after his indecent proposal. When it ended, he took 100 euros out of his wallet and placed them on the coffee table. I stood up, took off my trousers in a very slow, ritualistic fashion, and placed my left foot on his lap, letting him roll down my panties and allowing a close view of my hairless pussy. He instinctively grabbed my ass and tried to lick me, but I backed off so he didn't continue.
*
I 'd tell you about something that happened in my mid-20's, while I was looking for internship in Brussels and staying at a mid-range hotel. I hope my English is not too poor...
One day that I had returned late in the morning from an interview, a man around 45 approached me very politely at the dining area and bought me a cup of coffee. We talked and laughed for hours, we had lunch, altogether I thought he was flirting me, but in fact -seeing me all those days getting around made-up and well dressed- he had taken me for an escort. I realized it when I told him I should go and he suddenly started saying in a rather shy tone that he was married and faithful to his wife etc., however he would compensate me for the time I had spent with him, and moreover he was willing to buy my panties for his private moments, if I followed him to the gents and took them off in front of him (I was in trousers that day).
After the first shock, I explained him that I was seeking a career in the service sector but not this kind of services, thanked him for the lunch, and went up to my room for a nap. I took a bath to relax, but the more I was thinking about what had happened, the more I was being aroused by contradictory feelings of disgrace, flattery, immorality and power. It wasn't the first time a man offered me money in exchange for something related to sex, and my answer had always been a clear no, on the other hand this particular offer sounded different - or I was more ready to challenge my moral limits.
I had a very strong orgasm with the showerhead, fantasizing that I was standing handcuffed and bare-breasted on a stool as some unknown men were bidding, and a second orgasm on the bed with my hairbrush and fingers, playing the scenario of the prostitute and the shy loving husband in my mind. Even when I finally managed to sleep, I woke up some minutes later in a now-or-never mood. Without a second thought I fumbled in my handbag for his business card, called the reception to connect me to his room, and told him that if his offer was still valid and he promised not to touch, he could visit me in my room. Then I got dressed -white shirt, beige trousers and mid heels, a set of white lingerie- and waited.
Half an hour later, the "punter" knocked on my door. I seated him on a chair; without exaggeration, I 've never seen again a man so stressed and red-faced, like a boy seeking a chance to leg it! I pretended I needed to go to the bathroom, just to give him personal time to cool down (or flee
After he took what he had paid for, he asked how much money I wanted for giving him a handjob. I reminded him that according to the rules we couldn't touch each other, but I would accept 1 euro for letting him masturbate in front of me. He thought for some seconds, and then left another 100 euro note on the table, got naked below the waist, and started stroking his dick while I was unbuttoning my shirt and bra, gradually revealing my breasts. Even today, after 15+ years, I sometimes recollect his long cock, the sound of his breath, and most of all his finely shaped balls moving like small bells. In the end I was lying completely naked with my legs open towards him, and when it was apparent that he was about to come, I held my bra in front of him and guided him to empty his load right there; which he did spitting out shameful words in his mother language, among which I could easily distinguish the international latin word for the prostitute.
I let him rest for some minutes and then we said goodbye with smile on our faces.
This was the story I would tell you. And in respect to those who might "incidentally overhear", I 'd add that I didn't find a position in Brussels eventually, nor did he take my underwear with as he was leaving.
a) It depends on who might see me.
b) Hmmm... I think I wouldn't.
I 'd tell you about something that happened in my mid-20's, while I was looking for internship in Brussels and staying at a mid-range hotel. I hope my English is not too poor...
One day that I had returned late in the morning from an interview, a man around 45 approached me very politely at the dining area and bought me a cup of coffee. We talked and laughed for hours, we had lunch, altogether I thought he was flirting me, but in fact -seeing me all those days getting around made-up and well dressed- he had taken me for an escort. I realized it when I told him I should go and he suddenly started saying in a rather shy tone that he was married and faithful to his wife etc., however he would compensate me for the time I had spent with him, and moreover he was willing to buy my panties for his private moments, if I followed him to the gents and took them off in front of him (I was in trousers that day).
After the first shock, I explained him that I was seeking a career in the service sector but not this kind of services, thanked him for the lunch, and went up to my room for a nap. I took a bath to relax, but the more I was thinking about what had happened, the more I was being aroused by contradictory feelings of disgrace, flattery, immorality and power. It wasn't the first time a man offered me money in exchange for something related to sex, and my answer had always been a clear no, on the other hand this particular offer sounded different - or I was more ready to challenge my moral limits.
I had a very strong orgasm with the showerhead, fantasizing that I was standing handcuffed and bare-breasted on a stool as some unknown men were bidding, and a second orgasm on the bed with my hairbrush and fingers, playing the scenario of the prostitute and the shy loving husband in my mind. Even when I finally managed to sleep, I woke up some minutes later in a now-or-never mood. Without a second thought I fumbled in my handbag for his business card, called the reception to connect me to his room, and told him that if his offer was still valid and he promised not to touch, he could visit me in my room. Then I got dressed -white shirt, beige trousers and mid heels, a set of white lingerie- and waited.
Half an hour later, the "punter" knocked on my door. I seated him on a chair; without exaggeration, I 've never seen again a man so stressed and red-faced, like a boy seeking a chance to leg it! I pretended I needed to go to the bathroom, just to give him personal time to cool down (or flee
After he took what he had paid for, he asked how much money I wanted for giving him a handjob. I reminded him that according to the rules we couldn't touch each other, but I would accept 1 euro for letting him masturbate in front of me. He thought for some seconds, and then left another 100 euro note on the table, got naked below the waist, and started stroking his dick while I was unbuttoning my shirt and bra, gradually revealing my breasts. Even today, after 15+ years, I sometimes recollect his long cock, the sound of his breath, and most of all his finely shaped balls moving like small bells. In the end I was lying completely naked with my legs open towards him, and when it was apparent that he was about to come, I held my bra in front of him and guided him to empty his load right there; which he did spitting out shameful words in his mother language, among which I could easily distinguish the international latin word for the prostitute.
I let him rest for some minutes and then we said goodbye with smile on our faces.
This was the story I would tell you. And in respect to those who might "incidentally overhear", I 'd add that I didn't find a position in Brussels eventually, nor did he take my underwear with as he was leaving.
a) It depends on who might see me.
b) Hmmm... I think I wouldn't.
Very nice picture. I can't wait to see more of you.
Wow!!
I can’t believe this was the last post on this thread. Such an insanely good story and no comments!
. To speak the truth, I received a lot of pm's, which is not my favorite when I decide to expose myself in public.
Is that a promise not to remove the photo, or the outfit.
