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I had skipped ahead, and I do mean skipped, so that I could sit down on a set of raised steps and watch Kelly as she walked down the street. She was walking funny. She kept her thighs closed, taking little steps, looking very prim and proper in her dress and sandals.
She was walking this way because she was holding a napkin between her butt cheeks in order to keep my cum from leaking out of her ass and down her leg. I just had to laugh at the sight, at the naughty secret we were sharing. A few other couples were wandering the street as well, and none of them knew how un-proper Kelly actually was.
I sat on the steps, my chin in my palm, watching her walk past me, a big grin on my face.
“You better wipe that smile off your face,” she said over her shoulder.
“I’m just smiling because I’m happy,” I replied.
“Uh-hu,” she muttered, not convinced.
But then she stopped. She looked into the lit window of a small store.
“Are they really open? At this time of night?” she asked.
“Probably,” I replied, getting up and walking to her, “dinner doesn’t start until midnight in summer, so some of the stores stay open to catch the late crowd.”
“Do you mind if we go in for a second?” she asked.
“Do you wan to get rid of your pad first?” I said, grinning.
“I probably should.”
“Let me,” I said, and pulled her closer to me.
I sat on a low wall that ran parallel to the street, overlooking a stepped alleyway that lead into darkness. We were still in full view of anyone passing by. Seated, my face was level with Kelly’s waist.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Please, show me,” I asked.
“Are you kidding? Here. Just, show you.”
“Yes, please. There is no one around,” I said, looking up into her eyes.
She hesitated for a second. Then, almost gruffly, grabbed the hem of her dress.
“Fine, but look quickly,” she said.
She raised the hem of her dress, pulling it past her upper thighs, past the swell of her hips, revealing the soft nestled lips of her sex below the smooth pale mound of her pubis. Poking between her closed thighs was a white bit of cloth. The napkin.
I reached between her thighs. She took a half step to the side, giving me space to pull the napkin clear. I pressed it against her inner thigh, wiping a smudge of wetness. I pressed up, between the folds of her ass, wiping her clean. My knuckles pressed against her sex. Kelly’s hips started to rock against my hand.
I pulled my hand away, pocketing the napkin. Kelly staying there, standing in front of me with her dress held up to her waist. I stared at the delicate pink folds of her pussy, memorizing the shape of her sex, how the thick outer lips flared out to reveal the deeper pink of her inner lips, those two small folds of flesh that peeked out like a cat’s tongue. Her clit, hooded, a fold within a fold. I had seen a few pussies, had tasted, touched and even fucked them, had watched endless hours of porn, enough to claim to know my way around them, but they were still a source of fascination to me. Still a hidden treasure tucked away between a girl’s thighs.
I reached out with a single finger, tracing the edge of the outer lips, watching them curve around my fingertip. A small pool of wetness was forming in the crease where the lips met. I dipped my finger there, finding a moist warmth. Kelly sighed.
Someone laughed in the distance.
“Someone’s coming,” said Kelly, dropping the hem of her dress.
“Come this way,” I said, taking hold of her hand and pulling her down the stairs into the darker side street. Kelly followed.
I found a doorway suitably deep, and dark. A few feet above us was the street we had just left, where the sound of conversation echoed against the stones. I pushed Kelly against a thick and ancient wooden door. Before she could speak I knelt at her feet. I ran my hands up along her legs, pushing her dress up, revealing her thighs, I pushed her legs further open, wide enough that I could kneel between them.
Kelly knew where I was going. She rested her hand on my head.
I lifted the hem of her dress further, revealing the pouting lips of her sex. In the semi-darkness of the alley I could only see the outline of her soft folds, but that was enough. I pushed up one of her knees, resting it on my shoulder. She was fully open now.
I watched her pussy blossom. Pulled open by her new position, her lips parted. I cursed the darkness that was robing me of the details I wanted to devour. I leaned in.
It was cunnilingus by braille. My lips touched her sex, my tongue darted forward to explore and map out the terrain in front of my nose. Kelly sighed. Her hand was on my head, and her leg was thrown over my shoulder, her foot planted against my lower back. She pulled me closer to her.
I eagerly opened my mouth to suck in her entire pussy, pulling it into my mouth. My tongue split her pussy and found her clit. I could hear the street noises a few paces away. There was no time, so subtlety. I found her clit an zeroed in, circling it with the tip of Pendik Escort my tongue. My left hand slid up, cupping her pussy. The lips of her sex were wet already, so my middle finger slid right in, then the ring finger. My tongue continued the attack on her clit.
“Oh shit, oh shit…” breathed Kelly.
My fingers curled inside of her, finding what I assumed was her G-spot. Theoretical knowledge is nice, and I pride myself in being a thorough researcher, but when my finger tips grazed a ridged surface and Kelly gave an appreciative moan, I felt I had somehow finally earned my stripes as a cunning linguist.
Kelly grabbed hold of my head and started panting. My tongue lashed away, my mouth filling with her musky juices, while my fingers kept their rubbing, deep inside of her pussy. She was getting so wet I was getting concerned everyone could hear the sloshing sounds my fingers were making.
Kelly threw her head back and pushed my face deeper against her sex. Her pussy clamped down on my fingers, squeezing spastically. I stopped moving as she rocked and shook, her hands holding on to my head.
Finally she leaned back against the door and swung her leg off of my shoulder, trying to catch her breath. I stayed kneeling at her feet, looking up, my nose filled with the sweet musk of her juices. She smoothed her dress across her thighs.
She leaned down and kissed me, tasting herself on my lips.
“What am I going to do with you…” she sighed.
She pulled me up to my feet. Our mouths met and we kissed hungrily, our tongues swirling around each other’s mouths, sharing her sweet juices. Kelly moaned, grinding her hips against my erection. My hands reached for her ass, kneading it, pulling up her dress.
She placed a hand on my chest and and pushed me back gently.
“Not here, not like this. Come on, ” she said, ” the night is not over.”
She turned and gave me another kiss on the lips, patting the thick bulge in my pants at the same time.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get what you deserve,” she said.
She pulled me back towards the well-lit street, away from the shadows.
A few minutes later we were in a small clothing store, shopping for a new wardrobe. For me.
“My treat,” she had said as she led me to the boutique she had spotted on the way.
The store sold mostly men’s clothes, expensive men’s clothes. The older gentleman seemed delighted to get me out of my shorts and T-shirt and into a nice pair of slacks. Kelly mostly smiled and nodded as the man brought out a few choices. I looked in the mirror and found myself in a pair of tan linen pants and a creamy yellow collared polo shirt. The fabric felt soft and expensive. As Kelly paid the man, I kept looking in the mirror. There I was, still too tall and lanky, my hair still too much of a mess. The clothes were nice. But they felt like a costume.
We reached our destination soon after, strolling hand in hand through the cobbled streets of the Old Town. From the outside it looked like a small bar, a swinging placard hanging over a set of stone steps leading down to a converted cellar. At the bottom of the stairs, the door was old and wooden, studded with ancient black nails as thick as your thumb.
I pushed the door open and we were hit with a wall of heat. The room was a domed stone cellar lit by a scattering of red sconces. The small bar was the brightest spot in the place, an island of light that greeted us. Behind it, the room continued deep into the murky heated gloom. Low couches lined the walls, with North African low tables covered in mosaic scattered here and there. Thick pillows served as additional seating for the small crowd.
At the far end music was blaring; Salsa, Flamenco, some lively music made to make you dance. I led Kelly towards the back and dropped her on a thick pillow at the edge of the dance floor. I went to get a pitcher of chilled sangria. Kelly stayed seated, her eyes glued to the whirling bodies in front of her.
By the time I had gotten back to our spot, Kelly was dancing. Or rather, she had been abducted by one of the regular dancers, an older man in his late fifties, wiry and strong. He was older by several decades than most of the people in the bar, but he was obviously the best dancer. He had grabbed Kelly by the hand and was leading her, making her twirl around. Her dress blossomed like a flower, rising dangerously high. The rest of us, seated on our low cushions, had a clear view to the top of her thighs. A few more inches and everyone would know that she was panty-less.
I had expected this, so I was not jealous or alarmed. Much. That man would dance with dozens of girls, leaving them breathless and flushed. But I had never seen him go home with any of them, so it felt safe enough to leave Kelly in his arms. And it’s not like I was going to dance.
He had grabbed her by the waist, pulling her close, His other hand holding hers at the shoulder. His foot shot between her legs, forcing her to move her leg back a bit. They were glued together, his hips pushing her hips back Kurtköy Escort and forth as they started to move to the music. It was very sensual and intimate. I started to think that maybe I had made a mistake.
The tempo increased and the two of them started to fly across the dance floor. Almost everyone else had sat down to watch them, this blond girl and the dark-haired dancer. He guided her, in complete control, using his hips to make her step and turn, his hand on her waist pushing her back and forth, dipping her, twirling her. Kelly had a panicked smile on her face, obviously overwhelmed and delighted by this whirlwind of a man.
I drank my sangria, eyes locked on her legs. It was dark in here, but as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, it was easier and easier to see Kelly’s flashing pale legs. More than once I caught a glimpse of a crescent of flesh at the top of her thighs.
The music stopped and the two separated. The man gave her a small round of applause and a dashing smile before turning to his next victim. I waved Kelly over and she promptly threw herself down on a pillow. She was glistening with sweat and panting, but her eyes were bright and her cheeks were flushed.
“Oh my God, that was incredible!” she exclaimed.
“Right?! I love this place,” I said, handing her a glass of sangria.
She gulped it down, her eyes on the couples on the dance floor. The older dancer was dancing with a young woman who obviously knew what she was doing. The two of them were twirling and stomping across the dance floor, eyes locked in each others’ eyes. It was dramatic as hell. And sexy.
“Jeesh, they’re practically fucking,” muttered Kelly, “is that how it looked when I was dancing with him?”
“Kinda,” I replied.
She was sitting on the cushion, her legs to the side, looking rather proper. Her breast were swaying with each of her hurried breaths, drawing my eye. Seeing her sweaty, bright eyed, knowing she was naked under that thin dress, I suddenly was hit with a wave of lust. I could still smell the scent of her pussy on my lips. My cock grew hard, barely contained in my new linen pants. The dancing, the heat and the sangria had combined to wake in me a fierce desire.
“Come on, dance with me,” she said, her hand extended to me.
My erection deflated immediately.
I stumbled around on the dance floor, trying to mimic the moves of the dancers around me. Kelly laughed at my clumsiness. There is no theory of dance, no textbook that can teach you rhythm. Only practice counts. Holding Kelly in my arms, trying to be graceful, I felt out of my element for the first time that day.
I begged for mercy and fell back on a pillow. Kelly pouted at me, hands on her hips. A tall young man, dark and handsome, immediately stepped in and took her hand. Delighted, Kelly turned into his arms. They started dancing, nowhere near as well or as close as with the first dancer, but close enough, well enough to make me cringe. I sucked the pitcher of sangria dry. I watched his hand drift down along her spine until it rested at the upswell of her ass. He had to know, had to feel the absence of her panties. That dress was too thin to hide anything. He held her closer.
A wave of nausea washed over me. Maybe I was getting a little too drunk, maybe the wine was too sweet. Maybe it was seeing Kelly grind against someone too handsome, too good at this whole dancing thing. Maybe the ball of hate I felt for him was too bitter for me to stomach.
The pitcher was empty. I got up to have it refilled.
The wait at the bar was interminable, and the back of the room was too dark for me to see the dancers. I was kicking myself for getting up, for going to the bar when I should have gone to the dance floor and claimed Kelly back. Except she wasn’t mine. I had no claim, I had no game.
I made it back to the dance floor, pitcher in hand. I looked but Kelly was gone. So was the handsome guy she was dancing with. They couldn’t have left the place, they would have had to walk right by me.
Scanning the faces of the people sitting around, I made my way deeper into the place. Somewhere in the back was a staircase leading up to some tiny bathroom. Stupidly, pitcher of sangria still in hand, I headed there like a man walking to his execution.
There, under the staircase, was the guy. He was leaning against the wall, looking at his phone. There was a little more light in here, in the small alcove that led to the narrow wooden staircase, but I stayed back, in the darkness, watching, rooted to the spot.
He looked up at the staircase above him. A pair of legs emerged from above. I recognized her dress immediately. Kelly was coming down those narrow stairs, one hand on the stone wall for support. He was grinning, probably getting a good view up her dress.
Kelly stepped down and went to him, giving him a peck on the mouth. They both turned to head back to the dance floor, and they both saw me, standing there, pitcher in hand. They both froze.
Kelly was the first to move. She walked over to me.
“Where Maltepe Escort were you? I had to pee but you disappeared, I didn’t know where the bathroom was,” she said.
“I went to get more sangria,” I replied, holding up the pitcher.
Kelly’s expression changed slightly. She was looking at me, her face a little more set, her smile a little more firm. She placed her palm against my cheek.
“Okay. Thank you. But let’s go home. I’m tired now,” she said.
She turned to the young man who was still standing behind her and gave him a quick kiss. He grabbed her hand and gave it an exaggerated kiss, which made Kelly giggle. He smirked, then waved his phone near his ear. Did Kelly give him her number?
Before I could ask Kelly grabbed my hand and led me through the small crowd of dancers. I abandoned the pitcher of sangria on a table, to the cheers of the people seated there.
The cool night air chilled us, the sweat on our backs like a sheet of ice.
“How do we get home?” asked Kelly.
“We call a cab. At this time of night there’s no more buses,” I replied. “There’s a station at the gate of the Old Town.”
Kelly took my hand and we slowly walked through the narrow streets of the Old Town. The night was cool and quiet up here. From time to time we passed a bar or a restaurant that was still open, where people full of good cheer were enjoying a night out. I held on to Kelly’s hand.
The cab ride home was quick, much faster than the bus. Kelly had turned my head towards hers and kissed me, a deep soft kiss interrupted too soon by the cab stopping in front of the gate of the old monastery that housed us.
Kelly paid the cab driver. Hand in hand, we watched it disappear into the dark hills. Kelly pulled me away from the gate, towards the dark shape of an olive tree that grew by the side of the road. There was an old bench there, and Kelly pushed me onto it. I sat and looked up at her. She stood standing in front of me. It was almost pitch black under the tree, and Kelly was just a shape outlined by the thin moonlight beyond the shadows.
Her hands traced my face, my neck, my shoulders.
“I still owe you one,” she said softly.
She pushed my knees open and knelt between them. Her hands fluttered down my chest and came to rest on my thighs. I leaned back against the stone bench, breath held. Her hand found my cock through the thin linen pants. She brushed against it, tracing the shape of my thickening shaft. Slowly, gently, she rubbed the length with her fingertips.
She was just a patch of darkness between my thighs. I could not see what she was doing, or what she was looking at.
My cock was becoming uncomfortably erect, trapped in my pants leg. Kelly unzipped my pants and gingerly fished my cock out, exposing my erection to the night air. Her hand was holding the base of my cock, her fingers gently stroking the side of my balls. I exhaled loudly.
The cool air on my cock was replaced by the warm wet of her mouth. I gasped a bit at the sudden change, my hips bouncing a bit. Kelly’s grip on my cock became firm, holding me down, as her lips started their slow descent. Inch by inch she swallowed my shaft, her tongue massaging the cock head. Finally the entire length of my dick was in her mouth, in her throat. She swallowed, a motion that squeeze my entire cock. I hissed with pleasure.
She moved back up, releasing the shaft of my dick but kept the head in her mouth. Her hand started a slow motion up and down the rest of my cock as her tongue started to swirl. Man she was good at this.
I let my head fall back, lost in the feeling of her hand and her mouth on my cock. She was pulling waves of pleasure out of me, building up a sweet tension in my balls.
She stopped and got up, though her hand never left the shaft of my cock. She straddled my legs and sat on my thighs, guiding the tip of my cock to her pussy. She sat, impaling herself in one sharp thrust. Her pussy was wet and hot, her body soft and warm against mine. I wrapped my arms around her, cradling her head against my neck.
Slowly, she raised herself up, the better to feel the lips of her sex sliding across my cock. Slowly, she sat back down, letting herself be opened and filled. Her breath was sweet and warm against my neck.
She pushed away slightly, her hands now resting on my hips. She used the leverage to start pumping up and down, then rocking back and forth, grinding her clit against me. Her breath grew ragged, as did mine.
She grabbed hold of the back of the bench and pushed me down across it.
“Lie down,” she whispered.
I laid across the bench, keeping her well seated on my cock the whole time. She had one leg on the bench and the other on the ground, which might have been uncomfortable but she didn’t seem to mind. Sitting up a bit, bracing her hands on my chest, she started riding me in earnest.
The slap-slap-slap of our thighs colliding sounded incredibly loud in the dark night. I didn’t care at this point. Somewhere above me, in the dark, was Kelly, her face screwed tight with pleasure. I reached up and thumbed her nipples through the thin material of her dress, her breasts soft and heavy in my the palm of my hands. Her breath grew sharper, ragged. She was grinding against me now, dragging her clit across the base of my cock.
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