|
Geneva
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
GENEVA
It had been two days now and my search had been fruitless thus far. The
experience in the Louvre was beginning to seem tremendously surreal. As the
days had passed since the encounter in the basement the whole thing started
to seem less like an encounter between two real people and more like the
asbstract painting that I had been looking at when she approached me. The
bold, intense swaths of color were every sensation that I had felt when she
approached and led me to the basement. Shock, surprise, calm, trust, desire,
cold stone, hot flesh, intense pleasure - all of these emotions and
sensations layered and mixed together created an experience that was surreal,
abstract, like the painting. It was no wonder that I was now beginning to
doubt whether I had correctly interpreted the one piece of information that
could allow the fantasy to continue.
"All next week." She had said that she would be in Geneva all next week. But
it was Sunday when we met at the Louvre, and now it was Thursday, and when
she said "all next week" did she mean the seven days immediately following
the Sunday, or did she consider Sunday to be the beginning of a new week, in
which case "all next week" might not begin for another three days. If that
was the case the fantasy was over, and I was doomed to spend the last week of
my vacation alone in Geneva while my friends cavorted in Greece.
I had caught a train to Geneva on Monday evening, after spending most of the
day rearranging my travel plans and ignoring the good advice of my friends. I
found a room, had a good sleep and a good breakfast, and late Tuesday morning
I started to look. I started by imagining who she was, what she did, why she
was in Europe. The few words she had spoken to me were in english, and her
accent told me she was American, or perhaps Canadian, like myself. She was
probably a tourist, or a student, but Geneva is not high on the list of
destinations for either of those groups of people. So maybe there was a
different explanation for her week in Geneva; a job with a bank or a world
organization, a corporate training course, visiting relatives perhaps. It
didn't matter that much. I was reduced to doing what I had been doing when we
met in Paris, and that was hanging out in public places; art galleries,
parks, promenades, shopping districts, restaurants, and bars.
In two days of this I had had one moment of drama. It had been earlier on
this Thursday and I was sitting in a sidewalk cafe, drinking coffee and
reading a newspaper, watching passers-by out of the corner of my eye. During
one of the periods when the newspaper held my attention more completely than
the pedestrians I started at something that was foreign. I struggled for a
moment to figure out what it was, and then I knew. I had heard a voice, a
female voice speaking North American accented english. The clamour of the
street and the clinking of glass in the cafe had almost masked it, but it had
been there. I stood up and looked both ways down the street. When I looked to
my right I saw a flash of long blonde hair moving away down the sidewalk. I
threw some bills on the table and sprinted down the street after her. I
stopped running a step or two behind her and walked a few paces to catch my
breath. When I was breathing normally I touched her on the shoulder and as
she turned I said "excuse me, I.... - her expression was blank and
unrecognizing, and as I apologized she looked at me in a manner that
suggested that she thought I was quite possibly insane.
It was late Thursday afternoon now, and the admonitions of my friends were
beginning to echo inside my head. "You're going to Geneva to meet a woman,
only you don't know her name, you don't know where she's staying, you don't
know a damn thing about her, well, you do know that she likes sculptures,
especially life-size sculptures of sexually aroused men, but last time I
checked, Geneva was not exactly well known for it's erotic sculpture, so I
don't think you have a whole lot to go on." I had nothing to go on really, I
wasn't even sure that I would recognize her anymore.
THe sun was dropping lower in the sky now, the shadows were lengthening, and
the promenade along the shore of Lac Leman was beginning to fill up with
people who were finished work and out for a stroll or a jog in the late
afternoon sunshine. I leaned on the railing and hung my head over the water.
A family of ducks paddled around beneath me. I raised my head and stared out
across the water at the flashing reflection of the sun. I stared at it for a
long time, letting it go out of focus, enjoying the feel of the cool breeze
coming across the water. I shook my head to clear my vision, but that wasn't
enough to eliminate the flashing remnants of the sun's reflections that
danced in front of me. When I first turned back to the crowd on the promenade
the flashes were all that I could see. As my pupils dilated to let in more
light the crowd gradually began to come into focus, and I stared, unseeing,
down the length of the promenade. A cloud had approached from the east and it
hung over the lake now, creati
ng an early darkness. The low sun shone under the edge of the cloud from the
west, lighting the faces of the crowd as they walked toward it. Suddenly, to
my left, I saw a flash of blonde again, and this time it was her, and she was
walking toward me, smiling broadly. Once again, she had found me.
I watched her take the last few steps toward me, handsome in her business
suit, stray strands of her long blonde hair sparkling in the sun, and then
she stood in front of me. "Hello", she said. "I wasn't sure you would come."
"I wasn't sure I would find you. I've been here for two days."
"I'm sorry, I've been incredibly busy since I arrived here and I haven't been
able to get out much. In fact, I was just walking down the street from one
meeting to the next when I saw you standing looking out over the water. I
couldn't see your face from the street, but I examined you pretty closely
when you were looking at things in the Louvre, and your posture was the same.
I could tell it was you."
"You've got to go to a meeting right now?"
"Yes but it will be short, no more than 45 minutes. My hotel is just across
the street, the Royale, why don't you take my key and wait for me."
"Okay."
She set her attache case on the ground and knelt down to look for her hotel
key. As she searched I looked down through the silky hair that fell forward
and I could see into her blouse. A flash of lace and the subtle upper
swelling of her breast was all that I could see but it was enough to stir my
imagination, and my cock, and it pressed outward. When she found her key she
started to stand but stopped when she saw the swelling in my jeans. She
stared at it for a second and then looked up at me and smiled lasciviously.
She said, "it doesn't take much for you does it."
"Um, no."
"You'd better wait for me."
"I will."
She stood up the rest of the way then and while she pressed the key into my
hand she tilted her head up to mine and kissed me, lips closed at first, and
then just open enough for our tongues to touch and spar gently. When she
turned to walk away she let the back of her hand brush against my crotch.
After she had travelled five or six steps she tossed her hair to one side so
that she could look at me over her shoulder and smiled again. 15 minutes
later, when I began to saunter toward her hotel, I realized that I still
didn't know her name.
The hotel room was spectacular. It was on the top floor, and it had a tiny
balcony that overlooked the lake. I opened the french doors to the balcony,
stepped out, and looked around. With only a few clouds in the sky Mont Blanc
was visible in the distance. I was definitely not going to regret my decision
to cancel the Greece portion of my vacation. While I stood on the balcony I
heard a key turn in the lock and I turned around to watch her enter the room
and toss her attache case on the bed. She continued to walk straight across
the room to where I waited on the balcony and as she did so she took off her
jacket and stepped out of her shoes. Her chest bumped into mine a second
later and our lips mashed together, mouthes open, tongues pressing deep,
fighting for space in the other's mouth. I let my hands drop to her ass and
pulled her crotch tight against mine. The second that I had seen her open the
door my cock started to get hard again and I pushed it against her now. My
hands slid lower and I grabbed the hem of her tight wool skirt and pulled it
up over her ass. Her cheeks were bare and I grabbed onto them and pulled her
against me even harder. I massaged and pulled at her ass, all smooth skin and
round muscle, pulling away from the center so that the cheeks were separated
and I let my finger-tips run down deep in between them, feeling a g-string, a
few beads of sweat, and her taut asshole. She gasped when my fingers brushed
her asshole and our mouthes separated, to breathe and search for other flesh.
"Suck me," I said. She whispered yes and knelt in front of me to fumble with
my belt. A few seconds later she grabbed the waistband of my jeans and my
shorts simultaneously and pulled them over my hard cock.
It wagged gently in front of her face and I could feel the breeze from the
lake cooling my ass. I wondered if anyone on the promenade down beside the
lake was looking up and trying to figure out what was going on behind the
wrought iron railing of the balcony. "Mmmmmm," she said, "your cock looks
nicer here than in that dark basement."
"It does?"
"Mm hm." Her tongue snaked out and traced a line along the underside of my
cock from the base to the tip. The heat from her tongue and her breath
contrasted wonderfully with the cool, outside air that I felt at my back.
Without using her hands she kissed and licked all around my cock and balls,
and it twitched and pulsed every time she touched me. I closed my eyes, leant
my head back, and put a hand against the door frame for support. Now she
brought her hands into play, reaching between and through my legs, grabbing
my ass, teasing my asshole with a finger. My cock twitched again, harder.
"You like that?"
"Yes", I said.
"Turn around and put your hands on the rail."
I did as she instructed and felt her hands pull my cheeks apart and then the
warmth of her face pushing up between my legs. I felt her hot tongue bathe
the underside of my balls first, then the fleshy spot between my balls and my
asshole, and finally I felt her tongue flick directly on my ass. The
sensation was extraordinary, heat and slippery rough stimulation, and as my
cock bobbed in the breeze off of Lac Leman and her tongue tickled my ass, I
smiled and remembered how I had come to enjoy that particular sensation.
A former girl-friend owned two dogs. Whenever she and I were fucking, Brandy,
the female dog, would attempt to lick whoever's asshole was exposed. The
sensation was enjoyable and led to the two of us exploring that avenue a
little further. True story.
She made me turn around again and now she grabbed the base of my cock in her
hand and slowly, steadily fit almost all of it into her mouth and throat.
This drove me crazy and I could feel my cock pulsing steadily, as hard as
it's ever been, pre-come being squeezed down it's length and into her throat.
Slowly again, she moved off of it and her lips made a popping sound when the
head of my cock finally escaped.
I pulled her to her feet and she looked at me through the strands of hair
that had fallen over her face. Her two warm hands stroked my cock steadily. I
pulled down the zipper of her skirt and pushed it to the floor. When I looked
down I could see blonde pubic hair and the hint of swollen labia, both
covered by a sheer white g-string. We kissed again and I slid one hand down
to cup her pussy. At first I just slid my hand in between her legs and out
again, letting my fingers graze her plumped up outer lips through the sheer
material, feeling the dampness of it. Then I pushed the material to the side
and slid my hand deep in between her thighs, so that my middle finger was
almost touching her asshole. From here I pulled my hand upward, letting my
middle finger part the folds, feeling the sopping wetness, until it bumped up
against her clitoris. I massaged her clit gently for a second, making her
breathing quicken and her hips rotate in the air. I couldn't wait any longer.
"It's your turn, you turn around and put your hands on the rail."
When she did what I asked I grabbed her g-string and pulled it over her ass
and down her legs. She kicked it off of one ankle and then spread her legs,
flipped her hair over one shoulder again, and turned around to watch me. I
took my cock in my hand and slid it between her thighs and then up. I pulled
back when my shaft bumped into her pussy and I let the head rest at her
opening. I pushed forward again, not into, but along the length of her
opening, so that her labia wrapped around the sides of my penis, coating it
with heat and moisture. I scissored back and forth a few times, forcing my
hard cock to stroke her clitoris each time, and then I inserted just the head
of my cock into her hot cunt. She inhaled sharply and her eyes widened, still
looking at me. I fucked her with the head of my cock, nine times, and then I
stopped. She looked at me expectantly. When I started again I fucked her,
counting in my head, eight times with the head of my cock and then I plunged
in full length. Her head dropped and she gasped when I pushed all the way
into her but then she threw her hair back over her shoulder, looked at me
again, and smiled.
I fucked her again, seven times with the head of my cock and then twice full
length. And then six times shallow and three times deep. In case you're
wondering, the "Group of Nines" is some technique that I read about in a sex
manual some time ago. It is supposed to finish with nine deep, penetrating
thrusts and both people climaxing simultaneously. The obvious problem with it
is that counting becomes difficult towards the end. Of course, at that point,
who cares?
Somewhere, at about the break between five deep and three shallow, I stopped
for a moment and wet a finger to tease her asshole. She had taken one hand
off of the railing to massage her clit. Her eyes were closed now and she
breathed in quick, catching gasps. She rotated and pushed back with her ass,
trying to capture more of my cock. I leant backwards when she pushed at me,
not allowing any more than the head of my cock to rest in her vagina, knowing
that when I started again I would not be able to stop. Ready then, I counted
my three shallow thrusts and then pushed deeply into her hot, slick vagina -
four, five, six,...- my groin smacked against her firm ass every time. I
could see the muscles in her ass clench and her head arch back as she started
to come and I felt the pressure of my own orgasm building. Her cunt was
spasming around my cock now and I kept on thrusting until I passed the point
of no return and I closed my eyes so hard that I could see white light and
then I felt my contractions, once, twice, three times, forcing white hot come
deep inside of her.
A moment later, while my head rested on her back, I chuckled and said, "I
never finish that stupid nines thing."
"What are you talking about?
"Come on," I said, "let's go inside, I'll tell you while we're taking a
shower."
The End
|
|
