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It All Depends On How You See It

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It All Depends On How You See It‘Of course men see sex everywhere.’‘That’s because there’s sex in everything.’‘No way. It’s just ’cos you’re a man.’‘It’s true, it’s a primal urge, you can’t get away fromit.’ Joe drained his glass and refilled us both. We werehaving another one of our Sunday evening pubconversations. They could be about anything: SaddamHussein; whether God is a woman, but we usually gotround to sex at some point.‘That’s rubbish. There are some things in life whichjust aren’t sexy.’ I tasted the sharp alcohol on my tonguegiving myself time to get my argument honed.‘Like?’‘Like things you hate, things you can’t stand. Thingsyou find repulsive. They’re just not sexy.’‘Ok, give me an example.’‘Work, I hate it. I never ever feel sexy at work. I’msurrounded by grey suits talking money.’‘Right Vanessa, I’ll look on that as my first challenge.’I sort of forgot about the conversation after that. WhenJoe and I had been at uni we used to sit up till the earlyhours with these dopey off the wall debates. Now, stillmates even though we were tied to work and paying renton our flats, we were reluctant to grow up. After a bottleof chilled white any old tosh seems worth talking aboutand our Sunday-night specials had become a sort of endof-the-week ritual. The next day when the alcoholic hazehas worn off you’re shot back into the real world with ashudder.I work in the world’s unsexiest building. There isn’t acurve or a sensuous line in it. It’s all uncompromisingangles, strip-lighting and magnolia patterned with dirtyfingerprints. I feel like a white mouse in an experimentdesigned to see how long one sentient being can spend in abox without turning magnolia herself.At least it was Monday, 5.45 p.m., nearly my time toescape. I shrugged into my jacket and put my handbag onthe filing cabinet below the mirror to put on some lippy.As I was poised, gloss in hand I noticed the windowcleaner behind me in the mirror. Funny time of day to beturning up, I thought, but then windows can be cleanedany time.Now normally I don’t go for big muscles but I guessthat’s because I never see them close up. I only see thembaby-oiled in those horrid weight-lifter mags that makeguys look like they’ve got mumps of the chest. But these,even from a distance, I could see were not oiled and weredelightfully real, gift-wrapped in a white t-shirt. And theywere coming this way. He sauntered across the rapidlyemptying car park with a ladder under one arm and a clothd****d over his shoulder like a cape slung over a militaryman. In the other hand he held a bucket slopping withsoapy water. And he was looking at me. I kept my backturned ’cos it’s easier to stare with your mouth open whenyou’re spying on someone in a mirror.He came over to my ground floor window and stoodwith his legs apart, grounding himself. Lifting the ladderaside he leant it out of the way against the wall. I staredmesmerized at the strength in his forearms and the waycarrying all that weight made his chest expand. Slowly hetucked the cloth in his belt, pulling his jeans down acouple of inches. I now had a ringside view of the line ofblond hairs snaking down from his navel to his crotch, likea road sign indicating a one-way street. For some reason,I’d become all fidgety, moving from one high-heeled footto another. I closed my mouth and gulped. I was going tomiss my train. Did I care? Nooooo way.I really wanted to turn round, to drink in the full forceof him but maybe if I had, it would have broken the spell.I could see well enough as he leant down, dipped hissponge in the bucket, and slapped it against the window.Round and round he rubbed, the soapy water drippingdown his upheld arm and soaking those hefty shoulders.As he moved his arm right and left, his hips swayed intime, grinding the zip of his jeans against the windowledge. Through the thin cotton t-shirt, the dripping waterrevealed cheeky man-nipples. Then the water crept downto the soaking bulge between his legs. It barely hid a cockwhich looked as if it was ready to burst under the denim.A wet patch spreading down to his thighs and the halfliddedlook of his eyes made him look like a man almostready to come.I imagined myself, turning around. For a second I couldsee us both immobile. Then, I pictured one of hiseyebrows raising a fraction, his lips quirking into theessence of a smile. In my mind, he issued me with achallenge.I dreamt I walked over to the window, swung myswivel chair and placed myself in it facing him squarely.My heart was thumping as I imagined easing my tightnavy blue skirt up to my bum till I was sitting on the hem.In my mind’s eye I took first one, then the otherstockinged foot and hitched it onto the window sill givinghim an eyeful of lacy stocking top and thigh.As if he could read my mind, the real man impatientlyripped open the top button of his jeans and yanked downthe zip, liberating a cock which sprang out proudly at rightangles to me. Stunned at this blatant display, I dropped mylipstick and turned around. He really was the mostdelectable piece of manhood to cross my path lately. If hewas ready to do the business, I thought I’d give him a bitof bahis siteleri a hand. I sat opposite him, parting my lips and puttingmy middle finger in my mouth, watching his eyes followme as I eased open the top of my knickers and slid myfinger inside my waiting cunny. At the sight of mydampening panties he dipped one hand into the soapywater using its moistness to lubricate his dick. Lookingsoapy and filthy and clean all at once, I could see himsliding his hand rhythmically up and down. His armmuscles tensed, standing out like a relief map of thePyrenees as he gained momentum. His jutting hips buckedin time. There are few things more erotic than looking atthe concentration on a man’s face as he approacheseruption. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth and Ismiled with triumph as he pulled frantically while his cockshot hot salty come onto the window in a sputteringfountain jet.Seeing the thick essence trickle down the window sentmy hormones into overdrive and I was just settling downto finish myself off when my mobile rang. It plummetedme into reality as sharply as if the fire alarm had sounded.What the hell was I doing pleasuring myself in front of atotal stranger when the guard could come round the cornerany minute? Shock made my legs straighten, shooting myroller-coastered chair backwards where I narrowlymanaged to save myself by grabbing the desk.‘What?’ I yelled down the phone, standing ontrembling legs.‘Joe here. You sound flustered.’ I could tell he wassmiling. Then light began to dawn.‘You bastard, you set this up, didn’t you?’Itching with frustration, I looked at my window cleanerzipping up his jeans and running a squeegee down theglass. He wiped away all that lovely come and my plansfor the evening with it.‘I think I win round one. You see work can be sexy.Was he any good?’‘Good, he was fucking brilliant. Although hiscleaning’s crap. He’s left the window all streaky.’‘That’s ’cos he’s a builder. You don’t think he gotmuscles like that nancying about with a sponge do you?He’s a good friend. I do all his computer set-ups for himso he owed me a favour.’‘You have got to give me his number.’‘Do you want the mobile or the home one? The homeone he shares with his wife and three k**s, that is.’ Joelaughed, somewhat cruelly I thought, ‘that guy is sounavailable.’My ‘window cleaner’ at this point waved a cheeryfarewell, stepped into his white van and disappeared likemy fantasies in a puff of smelly exhaust.I had to admit Joe had proved his point. Sulkily I said,‘you made me miss my train.’‘Sorry sweets. Trains are like men though. There’ll beanother along later.’‘You still haven’t won your bet. Not everywhere issexy. Work was too easy, it closes and there are places tolurk. I’ll bet you can’t make a 24-hour supermarket sexy.Those places are hell on earth and there’s nowhere to hidefrom screaming k**s and old ladies.’‘Good challenge,’ mused Joe. ‘I need a couple of days’planning time. Go Wednesday evening and I’ll prove mypoint.’Of course, I was on tenterhooks till then. I was indanger of admitting Joe had been right. After his escapadeat work I was tortured every time I called the photocopierman with thoughts that he might be some hunk about to godown on me in the photocopier room. I cursed Joe forturning me into a sort of sex-obsessed tart.Tuesday was a nightmare. I couldn’t wait to get off thetrain and dash into my local Tesco, and that’s a first! As Iwandered round looking at the zombie-like shoppers Ifound myself peering in corners and even surreptitiouslypushing doors marked ‘no entry’ in a feeble attempt toguess what Joe had in store for me. Like Pandora,desperate to open the box, I prowled around unable toleave. I swear I was stalked by a store detective I wasacting so suspiciously; I bought a bottle of Chianti to calmmy nerves and legged it home.On Wednesday morning I was so keyed up, I foundmyself spending far too long in the shower, playing withthat nice fine jet of water. I had my eyes closed and myhead back when the doorbell went. Hell, all thoughts ofwindow cleaners faded as I tramped, soaking wet and pinkfrom an unfulfilled orgasm to find the postman with aspecial delivery package. Sitting on the bed, I tore it opento find a walkman with a tape inside and a note from Joe.‘If you listen to this before you get to the supermarketthis evening I’ll know. All bets are off and I win.’ Theswine. How was I meant to spend a whole day doing whatI was told? I took the walkman to work and could almostfeel it burning through my handbag. Every time I sat in ameeting where I wasn’t expected to speak I found mymind wandering to that rotten tape. I sat there, feeling thepressure of not being able to satisfy myself mount. At onepoint I was massaging my neck when u*********sly myhand wandered down, over the light silk blouse I waswearing, to settle over my breast where I found my nipplehad hardened like a pebble. When I caught one of thepartners eyeing me up as if he could read my thoughts, mycheeks turned puce and I was forced into a mock coughingfit to try and make out I had been nursing a poor ailingchest rather than feeling myself up. One thing you canlı bahis couldcertainly say of my old friend Joe, he knew how to buildup the tension in a girl.At last I was in the supermarket. As soon as I gotthrough the barrier I plugged in the earpieces and listened.There was a bit of Barry White and then a snatch of DonnaSummer. Huh, cheesy. If Joe thought that was going tomake this seething palace of consumer greed sexy he wasway off the mark. Then came Joe’s voice. Deep andsensual, I had never heard him talk like that. Instantly Ifelt arousal drifting up my thighs and settling somewherein the pit of my stomach. Joe’s voice sounded as if he waslying down and was very, very relaxed.‘Okay Vanessa,’ he said, ‘I’m in your head now so let’sjust forget about all those people rushing around. They’rein the real world. You and I are going somewhere muchsexier than that. First, I want you to grab a basket and startwalking upstairs to the underwear section. Obvious I knowbut it’s a great place to start. I’ve timed this perfectly sowe should be exactly in sync, even bearing in mind thoseridiculously tight little office skirts and clicky heels youlove to wear.’ As I walked along hearing his instructions, Ilistened to my heels and smiled. I never even knew he’dnoticed.‘Right, you should be there about now. Look along therails, to the left, and you will see a perfect coffee-colouredlace two-piece. There’s something about skin toneunderwear that does it for me. It sort of shows everythingand yet it doesn’t, don’t you think?’ I fingered the lace, itwas a beautiful set, right at the upper end of their ‘finest’range. Joe’s voice carried on. ‘I’d guess you were a 36D,am I right?’ He was. ‘Well, this time just get yourself a Ccup. This is underwear for playing in and a little tightnessrestricting those full globes of yours will make for a bettergame.’ My stomach did a flip. I’d always been a bit fed upwith my breasts. They were heavy and I had to sort ofclinch them to stop them clanging when I ran. ‘Fullglobes’ made them sound celebrated. I longed to run myhands over them with pride but, hey, I was surrounded bystrangers and I could do without being arrested.‘Now you need some cooling down,’ came Joe’sbreathy tones. He sounded to me like he could do with abit of cooling down too. ‘Go back downstairs, turn rightand make for the cold cabinet. Right over in the corner,you’ll see the cans of whipped cream. Don’t you just lovecream? It’s sweet and silky and those little nozzles on thecan are so useful. Take the can in your hands and justimagine what it would be like to be lying naked on a bed,face down with your eyes closed. I’ll bet you’ve got onehell of a neat arse. I’ll bet it’s just the sort of arse that criesout to have that little nozzle placed in it and squirted. I canalmost hear that cream collecting around your tight littlebud, and oozing out of the top of your legs. Sticky, drippycream, it just calls out for a finger to be dipped into it andrubbed up and down inside those glorious bum cheeks.Can you feel it Vanessa?’There was five seconds silence where I almostcollapsed onto the floor, my arse was quivering like asamba dancer’s. There was a guy standing next to meexamining butter. Quite frankly, if he’d come up, pushedme over the cabinet and shagged me senseless I’d have gotdown on both knees and given him a blow job as a prize. Iwas that horny. I wasn’t sure how much of this I couldtake. I found I was staring at the guy like an idiot. Igrabbed a can of cream and darted round the corner,getting some relief by standing next to the cold chickenlegs.‘Now, the next stop is aisle 13. Unlucky for some, butnot for us.’ With extreme difficulty I made my way thereand ended up in front of crystallized ginger and icingsugar. The cake making aisle. It was in danger of makingme think of my mother. Noooooo!I stood and concentrated hard on Joe. His voice wasfaster now, panting. ‘Just take a look along the centre ofthe aisle, and you’ll see glace cherries. Gorgeous aren’tthey? Round and red, glistening cherries. The best thing todo with those little babies is to lay on your back on the bedand have them, one by one, pushed inside you. Boy dothose little sweeties pop in easily. Trouble is, once they’rethere, you need to get them out. The best thing is forsomeone to kneel down and put their tongue inside thatjuicy little gash. The first ones almost pop out, the nextones require a good long suck and the last ones need aseriously hard fingering.’ With memories of the cream stillfresh in my mind, I couldn’t take it any longer. I wascreaming so hard myself I was worried I might make apuddle on the floor. The swine, he’d won again. I spent asleepless night masturbating like a woman possessed. ButI wasn’t going to give up that easily.I phoned Joe the next morning when I’d recovered abit. ‘It wasn’t fair. The sex was more in my head,’ andyours, I thought, ‘than in the supermarket. You’ve got togive me one more chance.’‘OK, because we’re old friends I give you just onemore chance. But I guarantee there isn’t a place on thisearth you can find that isn’t sexy. And if I win this one,fair and square, canlı bahis siteleri I claim my prize.’‘If you win this one you’ll deserve a prize.’‘Ok my lady, so lay down the challenge. What is it?’‘An old people’s home. Now I’ve got nothing againstold people, I’m planning on being an oldie myself oneday. But that must be the most unsexy place in theuniverse. All that boiled cabbage and chamber pots, I can’teven bring myself to think about it.’‘Oh, I can,’ said Joe with an inflection in his voicewhich made me think that he was already hatching a planin that ever-fertile brain. ‘Can you do Saturday evening?’‘Saturday evening it is.’ I said.‘I’ll pick you up at 10.00pm.’The guy was incorrigible. He’d really got into thischallenge thing. I’d never seen him as particularlycompetitive but here he was, pulling out all the stops, justto make a point. Men, they never cease to amaze me.The days seemed to drag by as my anticipationmounted. When Saturday came, I was ready two hoursbefore we were to go. This was better than going on adate.As we sat in the car together I was acutely aware ofhow close we were to touching every time Joe changedgear. I could feel my knee twitch as his hand came closer,as if our bodies were magnetized. It was madness, he’dalmost proved his point, that every situation could besexually charged. Maybe though, this would be hisWaterloo. In a way it would be a relief because then Icould get back to normal. In another way, it would be sadbecause life would go back to the dull old, same oldroutine that days used to have.We drew up at one of those big houses on the outskirtsof town that used to be family houses but had been turnedinto a home for old people. In some places the evening’sjust beginning at 10.00pm but, here, it was as quiet as alibrary after closing time.‘This way,’ said Joe reaching for my hand and bringingme round the back of the house. In his other hand he helda small bag. It was dark and I clung on to him trying not tolose my footing, but enjoying, for the first time ever, thewarmth of his hand.‘People will think we’re breaking in.’‘No way,’ he whispered, ‘we’ve got an invitation.’ Hepushed French doors which yielded easily and in thecorner sitting in a chair was an old man. He smiledwithout saying a word. ‘This is Gordon,’ said Joe, shakingthe man’s hand. ‘He’s a friend of my dad’s. It’s hisbirthday today, poor old sod. I usually just send him a cardbut he is eighty today so we sort of agreed he deservedsomething a little more. He doesn’t hear too well, and hecan barely walk, but he was a real goer in his time.Nowadays he just likes to watch.’My ears pricked up. ‘Watch what?’Joe thrust the bag he was holding into my hands. Ipeered inside. ‘Please, put that on.’ His voice had becomelow, it sounded a little like it had on the tape. I hesitated,but only for a second. Standing behind the old man, I saidto Joe, ‘turn away, don’t want either of you peeking.’Inside was a nurses’ uniform. I immediately guessed thescenario. Poor old guy, surrounded by nurses and neverthe chance to get an eyeful. I suddenly warmed to my roleas I squeezed into my uniform.‘Now Gordon,’ I came to stand in front of him, ‘I betyou’re a very bad patient, always knocking things on thefloor.’His eyes twinkled as he studied the thin blue materialand my mountainous breasts bursting out of the top.Normally I wouldn’t have been able to carry this throughbut after Joe’s torment of me over the past week I felt sorampant, I needed to display myself. I deliberately turnedaround and bent down, keeping my legs straight. I wasonly too aware that he was getting a view of shapely legs,stockinged with hold-ups that revealed chunky thighs. Mythong like a little red bootlace was a joke on such a hugeround arse. The old guy gave a gurgle of satisfaction and Iheard him say, ‘Go on boy, I can’t get there but you can.’To my dismay I felt Joe, my old mate, kneeling on thefloor behind me and running his hands up my stockingedthighs. I let out a squeak, but he was remorseless as I feltmy clit swell to bursting point. Joe, decent caring chap thathe is, moved me around so I could see the old guy get hiskicks. Joe buried his face in my arse cheeks and breathedin as if he was savouring fine wine then I saw the old mansmile as I felt Joe pull my thong aside and drive his tongueup to suck at my exposed fanny-lips. Still bending downand with a burning throbbing clit poking out, Joemassaged my arse cheeks while he poked his tongue intomy hole. Then, darling boy, he moved my legs apart and,while he worked with his tongue on the bud of my arse, hepushed a long sensuous finger into my cunny. I wasalready dripping wet with juices which he lapped upgreedily. Swirling his finger round and round it was toomuch for me and I came in one shuddering gasp.Gordon was asleep by the time we left. Joe had donethe decent thing, and fucked me from behind over the bed.Having a stranger look on just about drove me senseless.That was ten years ago. Joe won his bet and got hisprize. I never realized he’d fancied me for so long. We’restill living together now and I still love him. After all,haven’t I just proved he’s kind to old people and likesdoing the supermarket shop? And with Joe, sex iseverywhere, and still mind-blowing. Oh, and Gordon.Poor old Gordon’s pushing up the daisies but apparentlyhe died with a smile on his face.

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