Thighs 1  

thickcock_4sluts 64M
3 posts
9/1/2017 1:08 pm
Thighs 1


She sat down on a bar stool, her short skirt riding up to reveal the pale flesh of her thigh. It was a shapely thigh that complemented her amply curved body. The expanse of naked thigh, dimpled with cellulite, captivated my attention. She wore thong sandals and had manicured toenails — the same claret-red as her fingernails. Long, dark brown hair fell in waves to her shoulders. To some, she would be considered fat. To me, her full body had an erotic fascination. As I sat in my usual spot — a comfortable chair in the corner of the Bistro café, I watched as she ordered and took out her smartphone. At this time of the afternoon, the Bistro was deserted — apart from their one regular customer — me.

I wondered what would be revealed if her skirt rose higher. Oh I know it was her ass and cunt. But, was she wearing panties — I hoped not? Was her cunt smooth, trimmed or just a natural bush? I thought long and hard. My money was on a thick, natural bush that matched her long tresses. Distracted from my book, I watched her… or more accurately her thigh and my longing to caress it increased. The thigh was fast becoming a fetish.

As if sensing my eyes on her, she half-turned. Her gaze caught mine. Discovered, my cheeks flushed. I cursed. How could I blush at my age? She smiled… or did I just wish that she smiled? I caught a glimpse of pale cleavage before she turned away. A complement to her size, her tits were more than a few handfuls and barely restrained by her bra. I sighed, lifted my tablet, stood up and made my way to the bar. My coffee needed a refill. Well, that’s what I told myself.

As I took the stool adjacent to her, she turned. A fleeting smile played on her full, pink lips. I imagined kissing her… our tongues wrestling for dominance. My pulse raced. I breathed deeply and dropped my hand to the narrow space between us. She did not move. My finger traced slowly and lightly along her thigh. I felt her muscles tense then relax. My hand caressed her thigh with several slow deliberate strokes. She purred like a cat.

“You’re quite forward,” she said.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I quite fancied you. Older, distinguished looking… I hear older men are more attentive to a girl’s needs. Besides, there’s no-one else apart from the barista in the café to talk to… or play with.”

I nodded and smiled. My eyes took in her full cleavage as my hand first squeezed and then caressed the inside of her thigh. She laughed, “Multi-tasking? Perving my tits and rubbing my thigh.”

I dipped my head. “Both are well worth the attention.” My hand stroked the inside of her thigh from above her knee to just below her cunt. I felt the welcoming heat of her cunt. Several times my fingers made the journey from knee to cunt, but always stopping before what I sensed were wonderful lips. Each time, she caught her breath, wondering if my fingers would take the next step. She leaned closer, almost pushing her abundant tits beyond the ability of the bra to hold. Her breath came in short pants that warmed my ears. I felt the wet tip of her tongue lick my earlobe. Of all the things, that was what grabbed my cock’s attention.

“For fuck’s sake finger my cunt. I can feel my juices flowing.”

My fingers moved upwards. I smiled as I touched the first strands of hair. “I hope you like a hairy cunt,” she whispered. She adjusted her body, opening her legs in anticipation of my approach. Her skirt rode up more. I wound her coarse, thick pubic hair around my fingers, pulling, tugging and twisting. The palm of my hand pressed and rubbed firmly against her mound. She moaned softly. The barista looked up with quizzical eyes that asked “More coffee?” She smiled, “No” and then exhaled sharply as my fingers opened up her cunt slit.

First one, then two fingers slipped inside her warm, wet cunt. “I’m so wet,” she murmured. I had to agree. Cunt honey was flowing steadily from her inner reserve. I probed deeper, caressing and stretching her inner cunt, loving the differing textures in each part of her pink cave. She gasped, her breath coming in fast pants almost synchronized with the in and out finger-fucking. Her cunt muscles clenched on my fingers as she bore down. “Deeper. Please deeper.” I obliged.

A hiss of disappointment escaped her lips when I slipped my fingers from her cunt. I held them up loving the sight of the glistening cunt juices that coated my hand. She watched as I licked her juices, then grabbed my hand and sucked the remaining traces of her cunt honey. “I taste good,” she said, her voice thick and husky.

“You do.” My fingers dipped briefly into her cunt. I smeared her full lips with fingers glazed with her juices. She made to lick her lips, but I shook my head, “No.” Disappointment was brief as I kissed her hard, enjoying her wet mouth and the taste of her cunt. I felt the vibrations in her chest as she moaned and surrendered her mouth to my tongue. Entwined, our tongues wrestled. Two pink snakes in a hot, moist nest.

As we kissed my hand slipped between her legs and into her sopping wet cunt. My fingers searched along her engorged labia for her clit. I knew I had found it… had pried it from the hood that protected it, when she groaned, “No. Please no. Not here. I’m so sensitive.” I ignored her pleading, remorselessly rubbing and patting her prominent clit. Twisting and pulling it between finger and thumb. The pink pearl was hard and swollen, and in the confined space totally at my mercy. The insistent attention made her squirm; strong, thick thighs clamped my hand, but were unable to stop the rubbing and twisting of my fingers. Her breaths came in increasingly ragged pants.
In my ear, she growled, “You fucking bastard!” Then she whimpered as an overpowering orgasm gripped her body. Her face and tits flushed pink. A shimmer of sweat coated exposed skin. She trembled as electric impulses of lust and desire stormed through her body. Her face buried in my shoulder attempted to muffle the sound of her cumming. I flinched as she bit down on my flesh. For that she was made to suffer — if multiple orgasms could be considered suffering. Finally, I felt her sag against my chest, exhausted from her ecstasy. I felt my hand soaked. She did not so much squirt, as gurgle waters from the spring of her cunt.

“Oh god. I am so embarrassed,” she cried. “I’ve never squirted before.” Then with more control she said, “You’re a complete bastard. Are you staying in the hotel?”

I shook my head, “I live local. It’s a good café to come to for privacy.”

She grabbed my hand, “Well, I have a room. And, we’re not finished.” Unsteady and with her thighs still wet from her juices, we walked to the elevator.

At the bar, the barista chuckled. The entertainment made a boring shift bearable.

You will feel pain and pleasure. Accept both on your knees.


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