Ağu 31


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“Can I? Please? Please Please PLEASE?”

She was doing a very good imitation of a six-year-old, but it was all in fun. I had to admit, I had brought it on myself when I crossed the line between being an incorrigible flirt and an indelicate one. A few months ago, she and I had met to go for a walk and a bite to eat, and I had shown her a picture of myself I had taken with my cell phone. She had been shy, at first, and refused to look at it while I was in the room. After our walk, we had shared a bottle of wine and gone out to dinner. On the taxi ride home, while we cuddled and I kissed and licked her ears and her neck, we looked at the photo together. She told me that she doesn’t usually find such things attractive, but mine looked quite nice. I thought this a wonderful compliment! And she reinforced it by surprising me with a nice, very forceful, wet kiss on the elevator ride back up to my place to get her purse. This was like nothing I had ever experienced before; I have had my share of lovers, but their kisses were always quite demur. None of them had ever taken charge like this; it was nice to be on the receiving end of so much passion!

She came inside for a few minutes so we could say good-bye in privacy; it might be quite some time before our paths crossed again. We sat together, on the sofa, and traded a few more kisses. Suddenly, she had stood up, as if dragging herself away; I suppose she was thinking about her long drive home, but I like to imagine she was on the verge of ripping off my clothes and kissing me in even more sensitive places. Or perhaps she felt too close to being tempted by my playful suggestion that we should take turns licking each others’ breasts. I am, or try to be, a gentleman, and would do nothing to prevent her leaving. We walked out to the hall together, and she picked up her purse. I asked her to shut her eyes, since I had one more surprise for her. I am not sure what she must have thought I had planned, given the picture I had surprised her with – perhaps that, when she opened them again, I would be standing naked before her. That, however, would definitely have been ungentlemanly. Instead, I got down on my hands and knees, and kissed her calf. She giggled with delight, or perhaps because it tickled. I walked her down to her car, made sure she escaped from the underground parking garage safely, and came back upstairs.

Eight months had passed; it was now late fall. She had called me mid-morning on Saturday, telling me she was downtown, unencumbered, and asking me if I was free for a bit. I was, more-or-less. I was cleaning my new condominium; I had just been granted occupancy two days earlier, and it was a mess. There was construction dust everywhere. I had the time Bodrum Escort to take care of it now, so there I was, in a suite overlooking the city skyline, in my underwear and wearing knee pads, cleaning the engineered hardwood floors with a rag. Once I told her what I was wearing and doing, she absolutely insisted on coming to visit me. It would have been ungentlemanly to say no!

She got there about ten minutes later, and walked right past the front desk – since the upper levels of the building are still under construction, the concierge cum security guard sometimes leaves his desk to go on patrol. There was a knock on the door. I had put my jeans and T-shirt back on; no sense in teasing her unduly, or giving the neighbours a site they might not want to see.

“Aw! You got dressed.”

She was making a joke of it, but sounded genuinely disappointed. I smiled. I couldn’t resist setting her up for a chance to say something flirtatious.

“Haven’t you seen enough of me?”

She giggled.

“No, not in the flesh… And that was a long time ago. Do you have another picture to show me?”

“Actually, I don’t. But I can always take one if the need arises.”

“I have to see it!”

I smiled, I knew what she meant by “it.”

It was here that she started with the “pleases.”.

“You know, I thought about putting my camera on a tripod and taking a movie of me pleasuring myself, up close and personal, to send to you.”

She grinned, broadly.

“You should have – I would have loved it! But today, I’ll settle for a still picture.”

I thought about it for a few seconds. I am, it had become clear, an exhibitionist, but there might be a way to have even more fun with this.

“Well, I guess I can take a picture for you to review.”

I paused for a few seconds.

“If, that is, you are willing to pay the price.”

Surprise flashed across her face – she knew I wanted to show her what I had, and was a little bit vexed that I was playing games with her.

“Price? What price?”

“Well, the last time I showed you a picture it was an act of selfishness – something I wanted to do. You gave me an unexpected reward – it was, if memory serves, a passionate, and oh-so-tasty, kiss. Today, though, you asked for it. And I’m afraid you’ll have to pay up front.”

I was sure she would be willing. This could become very interesting, since she was also very imaginative, passionate, and loving.

She smiled a sly, catlike smile. I could almost see her mind working as she went through the possibilities open to her.

“Is anything off the table?”

She was testing me, but I didn’t want to commit to anything yet.

“I’ll give any Bodrum Escort Bayan offer due consideration.”

She humphed.

“Let’s make it even more interesting. If you come up with something I really like, you can take the picture.”

Her grin grew bigger; she was clearly pleased by the idea that she could see me literally in the flesh. I paused for a few seconds, then decided to drop my final bombshell.

“With your own camera.”

She laughed out loud.



I must say I liked the idea too.

“Why don’t I give you a little time to think something up?”

I put the knee pads back on, over my jeans this time, and went back to cleaning the floors. I knew I was relatively fit, and that she was sure to find the sight of me on my knees in tight black jeans very distracting. I positioned myself a few feet on front of her, facing directly away from her. After dipping the rag in the water and swabbing up some of the dust, I looked back at her. She was staring at me.

“How do you like the view?” I asked.

“You? Or the city?”


“Fantastic. I wouldn’t want to miss either of them!”

I continued wiping the dust off the floor; my jeans were starting to itch, and I was getting hot. There was a reason I had been doing this in a state of undress.

“I’m thirsty. Can I offer you a drink?”

“Sure; what have you got?”

I went over to one of the cupboards and pulled out a bottle of Chianti and a pair of disposable wine glasses. I opened it, silently, and poured us each a generous drink.

“Bottoms up!”

I handed her the glass, and we each took a sip.

“Any ideas?”

“Oh yes!”

I looked at her and smiled.

“Such as?”

“Some things are better demonstrated than discussed.”

There was no arguing with that. She was already stepping toward me. As she reached me, she turned so she was facing away from me. She took another half-step towards me, so we were touching, and swayed her body back and forth across my front. It was an unexpectedly enjoyable experience, but I knew she wasn’t done yet. She was having too much fun.

She circled around me, always facing the same direction. She stopped when she was behind me. I could feel her as she held entire body against me. Then I felt her hands slip around my waist and slide up my front. Very gently, she caressed my nipples through my shirt. It had been a long time since anyone had paid this kind of attention to me. It was wonderful. Her touch was feather light and teasing, playful and gentle, but it was no accident that she was inflaming my passion!

I breathed out, very slowly, and in again. I sighed.

“You like Escort Bodrum that, do you?”

“Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes!”

My voice was weakening from the distraction. I had no idea that my mind could be so easily focused on a touch. She drew all her fingers together, and, pinching me, pulled them away. After the pleasure that had been flowing through, the pain was a bit of a jolt, but not unpleasant, not at all. She did it again, and a third time, and then resumed her gentle rubbing. I could hardly bear the primal feelings she was stirring up in me, but I kept silent. I did not want her to know how I felt.

She cupped the outside of my breasts with her hands, and gently flicked the tips of my nipples with her thumb through my shirt. This was a whole new feeling. I shivered.

“I guess it’s time for phase two.”

“There’s a phase two?” I asked, incredulous.

In answer, she slid her hands down my body and over my pants. She pushed them against me and traced out my shape. Then she rubbed them against me with quick short strokes. The denim of my pants was thick, however, and I could tell neither of us was getting much out of this. Fortunately, she had the perfect solution. She moved her hands upward slightly, and quite deftly undid my belt, my pants, and my zipper, and pushed my pants down. I stepped out of them.

“Ah, that’s better.”

It certainly was. She rubbed against me, through my briefs, encircling me through the loose material and letting her fingers play up and down the length of my manhood. After the foreplay with my nipples, I wasn’t sure how much of this I could take before I turned on her and took her for myself, but I promised myself to try to show a little self-control. Her enthusiasm was both touching and very exciting, and it would have been a shame to make her stop. She was also very good at what she was doing! It was, somehow, made even more erotic by the layer of cloth separating my skin from hers. I sighed as she forced me closer to the edge. I didn’t want to go that far, not here, and not like this.

“Okay, Miss Rho, I think that will pay for a picture or two.”

She laughed.

“And if I don’t stop?”

“Let’s just say we’ll be getting into a sticky situation. One which will not photograph at all well.”

“Ah. I see your point. I’m not done with you, not by any means. But I’m ready for your close-up, Mr DeMille.”

“Hah! You’ve been ready for my close-up for a long time! Where do you want me?”

She giggled.

“For the picture, I mean. You’re only allowed four, by the way, and there can’t be anything to identify either me or the location.”

“Only four?”

“You can only keep four. You can keep take as many as you like until you have four you like.”


She was having too much fun already. She took pictures of me in every position imaginable: sprawled on my back and my side, spreadeagled, standing, kneeling, even of me pleasuring myself. Some of them were quite artistic. I let her keep six of them.

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