Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
It had only been three days since my reunion with Eleanor, but they had been three long and lust filled days. I had lost count of how many times I had touched myself while recalling our previous encounter. Eleanor and I had spent our time fornicating over text, teasing, keeping each other in a constant state of arousal until our next meeting.
It had only been three days, but I had accumulated quite a collection of porn on my phone, all of El. Every time she became aroused—which seemed like always—she would let me know it, with words, and with pictures. I of course would do the same.
I had photos of her at work, of her panties pulled down, glistening with cum below her desk, and photos of her breasts exposed above a bra that had been pulled to the side, taken in a mirror of a restroom of some fine restaurant.
I had a whole set of her at the gym. She had worn leggings without panties and she made sure I knew it. She took photos on the machines with the leggings pulled tight against her pussy, exposing the shape of her lips. There were others of her ass, her wonderful, perfect ass, barely covered by the elastic fabric, which clearly showed each cheek. There were photos of her with her hand on her pussy, pleasuring herself both above and under the fabric of the leggings.
I have photos of the developing wetness on her fingers. She loved to show me how wet she was, and I loved to see it. These were the photos that drove me wild and made me lick my lips with anticipation.
She had cum in that gym, in those leggings, and again she showed me in the last of the set. It was a point of view shot, taken while she sat on the faux leather bench of some exercise machine. It encompassed Eleanor’s naked hips, her pussy and thighs, and her leggings that had been pulled down to her knees. Eleanor held the crotch of the leggings so that it faced the camera. It glistened with a thin, translucent but creamy, pussy-shaped patch of cum. Below the photo there was a caption:
“These are going to be yours. ;)”
It had only been three days, and we were meeting on the fourth. The striped thong she had given me on our reunion had rarely left my face. Its creamed gusset, that bore witness to Eleanor’s arousal that day, had been sniffed, and sniffed, and though I tried to hold back to keep it as it was, licked. Still, these panties emanated with Eleanor’s wonderful aroma. By the standards I had before our meeting, these panties were about as fresh as I would get, and yet here I was expecting a fresh, wet, pair—of leggings no less. It seemed that if my arousal had a limit, that I would reach it soon.
I’m not sure why we had waited three days. I’m sure we could have arranged something sooner, but neither of us spoke of it. Perhaps we did not want to seem desperate; it seemed like the polite thing to do—to wait. Perhaps we wanted to tease, to prolong the arousal, make the three days all a build up, as an extended foreplay, for when we finally met again. Whatever the case, the intervening days had offered a new sort of pleasure that was different from our in person meeting, and the fantasy had definitely made me want more.
It was the evening of that third day, I had just received El’s last text from the gym, and I sat at home, hard, unable to sleep due to my arousal and anticipation. The image of her cum, resting on the crotch of her leggings was burned into my mind, and when it began to fade, I would look at it again to keep my memory fresh.
I sat there in my bed, thinking about it, with her panties held tightly against my nose, inhaling her scent, and remembering the softness of her skin, and the feel of her pussy on my face, wanting badly to bury myself in her again. I had held back from masturbating, to keep myself fresh for our meeting. Besides, no amount of fantastical cum could quench my arousal, which knew what was coming tomorrow.
We had set up a whole day. We were to meet at a Starbucks to get coffee in the morning, and discuss what we wanted to do. This would include our limits, fantasies, and anything we could thing of on a whim. From there we had planned a walk in the park, picnic included, and if we felt like it, a night together at my apartment.
We had not set this last part in stone due to conflicting schedules in the morning, along with a certain determination that it might not be necessary. It seemed to me, and I assume to her as well, that we were meeting basically just as friends who hung out when we felt like it—only one of our favorite activities to do together was have sex. If we happened to want to ‘hang out’ at night, we would, and if not, we wouldn’t.
I drove to the Starbucks early. I always try to be punctual, karşıyaka escort bayan I always end up being early. Eleanor was still a few minutes early, but later than myself. I had sat down with my coffee when she arrived. I got up to greet her with a kiss. I sprung to life when I held her, and felt her lips and tongue for the first time in three days. She breathed heavily against me, indicating she had sprung too. It was a kiss that was probably too intimate for some of the customer’s at the shop, but neither of us cared.
“Hey,” she smiled, looking longingly at me.
“Hi,” I replied with a similar expression.
“Have you ordered yet?” She asked.
“Yeah, I’m just over here. I got us a table.”
“Oh cool, I’ll grab a coffee and be over.”
She kissed me once more before standing in line, holding her wallet and keys in hand.
I sat down and admired her as she stood. She was indeed wearing the leggings from the picture. In the more public location of a (relatively) busy Starbucks, compared to the gym she was at last night, she wore them more modestly. The blatant cameltoe that she showed off in the pictures was gone, but the leggings still gave away the shape of her form.
Her legs still flowed beautifully from her calves to her thighs and into her round ass. And I knew she was not wearing anything underneath. I knew that she was wet. And I knew that she was getting those leggings wet, wetter. I found myself staring, losing myself in fantasies and admiration. She looked over and smiled a knowing smile.
Soon enough, she got her coffee and a small pastry and turned towards me. Holding her cup in one hand and the pastry in the other she nodded her head to the side, summoning me to follow her. Apparently she wanted to sit at a different table. I followed her, and her decision made immediate sense to me. Her table of choice was much more secluded, tucked around a corner beyond the main area, and I wondered why I hadn’t chosen in myself.
I turned the corner find Eleanor leaning over the table with her ass protruding towards me. She had pulled the leggings up again so that they were taught against her ass. It was a quick tease, as she incorporated the movement into the act of setting her coffee down, but still enough to arouse my desires. I stood next to her and set my coffee down. I glanced around, making sure no one was watching, and quickly cupped her ass before sitting down.
The warmth and firm-softness brought back all of the memories of her touch that had been rooting around in my head for the past three days. Eleanor squeaked at the touch, and lightly pushed back against me before she took her seat opposite me.
She smiled as she sat down.
“So,” she said, lightly hugging her coffee in her hands, “ready for a fun day?”
I chuckled, “yeah I am. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could wait.”
“Me either!” She replied, also trying to stifle a laugh. “Too much lotion and Kleenex?”
Again, I laughed at the joke, but responded sarcastically, “you have pictures!”
“Oh I know. I wish I was there.”
Her smile turned almost serious as she dropped out of her giddy joy and back into her arousal. She took a sip of her coffee.
“So what did you have in mind?”
“Oh I don’t know,” I said, suddenly drawing a blank for all the fantasies I had concocted.
“Come on!” she teased, laughing again.
I had become bashful about discussing these things in such a public area, even though we seemed far enough away from the range of anybody’s ears. Even so, who cares, really? Still, I couldn’t help but hold back.
“Well I have a lot in mind,” continued Eleanor, and she glanced around.
Looking towards the corner to see that no one was there she dropped a hand below the table. It remained there for a moment, and then another, as a concentrated and somewhat agasped look came across her face. Her arm moved subtly up and down at the shoulder. I got hard. Then she brought it back up, her hand, which glistened, wet with her cum. I was very hard, my cock strained against the fly of my pants and my inhibitions about the location evaporated.
“Here,” she said, giving her hand to me.
I took it and brought it towards my face. Her index and middle fingers were coated in translucent slime. She must have pushed them deep inside herself, as they were soaked from the knuckle. For the first time in three days, I could smell Eleanor’s cum straight from her pussy. I devoured the scent, drawing her fingers across my face under my nose.
Her scent was a bit more pungent today, but still magnificent. It was still musky and sweet, but more karşıyaka escort powerful and concentrated. She had essentially been constantly cumming in those leggings for two days now, and I was glad for it.
I suddenly felt pressure on my cock and looked down to see a foot between my legs. Eleanor had removed her shoe and started to massage me through my pants. It was a bit strange at first, I admit, but the sensation was phenomenal and I pressed myself against her.
Feet are not one of my primary attractions, but with Eleanor I found myself in love with them. Looking down at her foot as it caressed me, I couldn’t help but imagine her toes in my mouth, and even the scent of her foot. Everything she did drove me wild.
I stuck her fingers in my mouth and felt her cum on my tongue. I sucked every drop of cum off her fingers, savoring the flavor. And then she removed them, soaked now with my saliva and brought them to her mouth. She cleaned them of me, and removed her foot.
“I want more of that,” I said.
“Good.” She smiled.
We sat and sipped our coffee for a moment and cooled down from the tease.
“It’s been a long three days, hasn’t it?” I asked.
“God! I never knew I could be so wet, and that’s saying something, because I’m always wet. It’s like, being wet turns me on which makes me more wet. It’s a vicious cycle.”
“And it’s your fault!”
“Sorry!” I grinned sarcastically. “You know those pictures from the gym were too much. My cock kept wanted to get harder, but it was at its limit. I swear I was like a steel rod.”
“So you like the leggings?” she asked mischievously.
“I like the leggings. A lot. In fact, they’re a bit of a weak-spot for me. How did you know?”
“Well I didn’t really. They just always kind of turn me on when I’m wearing them, so I figured they’d do the same for you. I’m glad you like them.”
I had previously thought of myself as pretty insatiable. My sex drive has always been high and I could never imagine having enough sensual pleasures. It seemed now though that Eleanor could give me a run for my money, and I loved it.
“Did you like the panties?” She asked.
“Of course! Oh my god of course! They got plenty of good use.”
“You know, over the past few days, I’ve been smelling myself more. I mean, I have done it in the past, but it was always just sort of out of curiosity. But like, I’ve been so wet, and I’ve just been more aware of it since our meeting, and I can see why you like it. Er, I can understand it I guess. Do I smell good today?” She said, glancing towards her previously wet hand.
“You do. You really do,” I said, dropping my voice to a whisper, “God, I just want to bury my face in your pussy.”
She smiled at me, and after a few moments of silence and more passing glances the subject changed.
For several minutes, our conversation drifted on to more conventional topics. This only seemed to heighten the tension between us. Not addressing the mutual arousal was just the perfect sort of denial.
We talked about school, and the weather, and funny memories. Then we talked about our dogs, and of course phones were brought out to show pictures of each to the other. Eleanor got up and sat next to me, to share the pictures of her dog, Robbie, or so I thought.
The tension had never vanished, but I believe we were both genuinely interested in the conversation. But as Eleanor scrolled through the photos, to “find” the ones of her dog, she passed over the images she had taken at the gym. It was in a manner that seemed like she was trying to be nonchalant, but the way she lingered just a moment too long on the naughty photos gave away her intentions.
She found the dog photo and leaned in closer to show me. Her shoulder rested against mine and our thighs touched. I looked down, past the phone and the image that was on it, down Eleanor’s torso and to the confluence of it and her legs between her hips. Her legs were almost closed, and the leggings were taught against her crotch.
The bulge in my pants grew and pressed against the fabric. My arousal had piqued once more, and I felt any hesitations I had about being in a Starbucks melting away again. I pretended to focus on the phone, and Eleanor’s dog, “aw-ing” and sharing anecdotes about my own pup, all while moving my hand to rest on the inside of Eleanor’s thigh.
I cupped her leg near the knee, starting out innocently. Still, the softness of her thigh felt through her leggings drove me wild. Eleanor grinned at me briefly, before pretending to resume our conversation.
I moved my hand. Slowly escort karşıyaka I slid up her leg, until my hand was halfway up her thigh, and more on the inside. She spread her legs, slightly, with each movement of my hand. I gently caressed her, causing her to pause mid sentence. She looked at me once more, her eyes full of anticipation and longing.
This brought back memories, inevitably for her as well, of the first time we were together. All those years ago, that first touch had been so similar. Now we would see what it could lead to.
I was no more than two inches away now from the soft mound between her legs. I could feel the heat radiating from her core, and it took all of my will power not to ruin the tease and jump straight to her pussy, but I waited, lightly caressing her more.
Slowly I moved, and moved, and then I was there, at the joint of her leg, the firm crease before the soft lips of her pussy. I turned my hand so that it was cupping her. She gasped.
Her legs were spread now. With that first touch she opened them wide, allowing me in to please her. For those first few moments though, I lonely touched. I rested my hand on her, feeling her heat, and the softness of her lips, and enjoying the barely noticeable hint of dampness that made its way through the lycra.
Then I pressed. I pulled my middle finger in, separating her lips and feeling the slickness of her core as the fabric slid over her slick cum, and in one motion glided it up the length of her pussy until I found the hard nub of her clit.
Eleanor had dropped any pretense of conversation now. She was silent, and so was I. I alternated glances down at my hand and at Eleanor’s face. She never broke her gaze with me. She stared solidly, if a bit lost in her desire.
I stroked the length of her pussy again, feeling the dampness more, as her cum worked its way through the fabric, before focusing on her clit. I held her pussy firmly as I began to move rhythmically in small circles, stimulating her pleasure button.
She was trying to control her breathing, painstakingly lengthening the naturally frantic breathes into long, deep, slow ones. And she gyrated her hips, matching my rhythm with her own, though she tried not to do that either.
I added more pressure, following her breathing as my cue, and listening to her hips as they dictated what she wanted.
Her mound was beautiful, and so were her legs. I could not stop myself from staring down at her beautiful confluence while I rubbed her.
She was wet. I could tell, the way the fabric slid over her pussy, though her cum had not yet made its way through the fabric enough to visibly show—still only a hint of dampness was apparent.
I observed every subtle detail of her soft lips as I slid my hand between them, and every detail of her clit as its erect prominence flicked underneath my finger. I took it all in, savoring it, and trying to feel more, loving the teasing barrier that the fabric was providing.
I had originally only meant this as a tease, a quick taste of what was to come, but Eleanor was getting close. Her bucking had become less controlled, and her eyes were almost shut, as her mouth hung agape. I was making her cum in Starbucks, and at that moment nothing could have been hotter.
I continued to rub her pussy, adding pressure and increasing my pace, feeling her wetness and a throbbing in my own pants.
Suddenly, her legs clasped shut around my hand. Her orgasm overcame her as she spasmed, subtly but uncontrollably, bringing her hips from the seat and humping against my hand. A soft whimper escaped her lips, but she closed her mouth before it could grow into a moan. Her eyes were clenched shut, along with her mouth. She breathed hard through her nose, willing herself to remain as quiet as possible.
With a last few thrusts of her hips, her orgasm subsided and she settled back to the seat and relinquished my hand.
She looked around, checking to see if our show had drawn any attention. It must not have, as she relaxed after doing so.
I couldn’t take my eyes away from her pussy. When her orgasm peaked I felt a renewed wetness through the fabric. I looked down now, removing my hand from covering her to see a dark line mimicking the shape and size of her pussy stretching from the front of her mound down between her legs.
The sight was magnificent and I wanted to drop between Eleanor’s legs and taste her, but I settled for my hand. I brought my fingers up from her lap and to my face. They weren’t overtly wet, but slightly damp, and the aroma of Eleanor’s pussy was still on them. I lost myself her musky sweetness, and sat smelling my hand.
Eleanor watched me, and grinned as I enjoyed her scent, before dropping her own hand between her legs. She teased her clit briefly while I sat there before standing up abruptly. She grabbed my hand and helped me to my feet before starting towards the exit.
“Come on,” she said, and we headed towards her car.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32