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Cruel Wednesdays

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Ass

I couldn’t have not noticed her, I realize that in hindsight. The moment my eyes encountered her, though, the fascination acted like a switch to my young brain and disrupted all the circuits but the primal ones. You’d have noticed her too, had you been in my place. Among the sea of hectic tourists in their garish outfits, she was like an epiphany. Huge, dark eyes that appeared to look right into a different world, above high, exotic cheekbones and a finely chiseled nose drew my look like magnets. Lips that were full – but not artificially so – and darkly outlined into kissable perfection twitched slightly upward in a joke that nobody but her could hear. She wasn’t young, not by my measures, early forties if I’d dare a guess. But like expensive wine, she had only grown in beauty and intensity. Her face was, for lack of any better term, an oxymoron to me. Something about her radiated angelic innocence, but whenever that sparkle in her eyes lit up, there seemed to be some wicked, hidden daemon bubbling just beneath the surface. I could not really shape it into words, but from the moment that I saw her, I was entranced. Her black dress was far too expensive and classy for a place like this where tourists bargained for rebate on coffee and cake, but she didn’t seem to mind. Absently, her fingers stroked the cigarette pack that lay in front of her, and a feeling, strange but oddly familiar too, bubbled up inside me. I didn’t realize it, but I sighed. The waitress brought my Latte – my Wednesday ritual since I had finished job training and become a full employee, which meant working Saturday mornings and having Wednesday afternoon off – and I sprinkled sugar over it, took the spoon and scooped up a bit of froth. She eyed a pair of Japanese tourists who almost bumped into her because they were so focused on the cameras they were pointing all around. I took another scoop of froth, that yummy little pleasure that, this day, seemed shallow while my eyes rested on her and took in her grace and nonchalance. It was like watching a painting, one of these classics done by a world-renowned artist. Tiny wrinkles spread from the corners of her eyes and mouth, and for a long, intense moment that caught me completely unawares, I felt compelled to just walk over and ask if I could run the tip of my tongue over them. Whoever she was, it was like she was pulling me toward herself with magic. She put the cigarettes into her bag and closed it. Then she stood up, turned into my direction – and looked directly at me. Her eyes linked with mine – and I knew, knew that she knew. My tummy flip-flopped and my hands grew sweaty, but I was unable to draw my gaze away from her. And then she walked towards me, one high-heeled, stocking-clad foot after the other, in a straight line, hips swaying, and the click-clack of her heels on the plaster grew steadily louder until it was the only sound I heard. Her eyes never strayed. Then she was at my table and my cheeks burned. She pulled out the other chair and sat down without a word, and I had no idea what to make of it. Was she here to confront me? Was she coming onto… No! I didn’t dare to think about that. I reached out for my glass with shaking fingers, desperate for something to hold onto and some action to hide my nervousness. She was faster. Her lean fingers wrapped around my glass, and I brushed the back of her hand with mine, almost jerking my hand back, but the soft, warm feeling of her skin kept my fingers glued there. The corners of her mouth twitched again, and she lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip, closing her eyes in pleasure for a moment. Then she looked at me again with these deep, dark eyes that appeared to radiate magic and licked away the froth that clung to her upper lip. A butterfly wiggled its wings in my chest. With a grin she put down the glass again. “Breathe,” she whispered, and my cheeks grew even darker when I realized that she was right, that I’d been holding my breath in painfully. It came out with a gasp when güvenilir bahis her fingers wrapped around mine. “Now we’re even,” she told me with a wink, and her voice sounded exactly like I had imagined it, melodic and with a rough edge. “Now we’ve both stalked each other.” Her thumb trailed over the back of my hand and made goosebumps of pleasure race up my arm. “Tell me,” she asked with a glint in her eyes, “do you like to play games?” ‘God yes!’ I wanted to shout in answer. ‘Any game you want me to play!’ Instead, my whispered, “Yes.” was hoarse and trembling. “Let’s play ‘four questions’. I’ll get to ask you four questions that you answer with complete honesty. Then you’ll get to ask for in return, and I’ll answer equally truthful. Okay?” Her thumb never stopped brushing my hand, which made it hard to concentrate on her words. “Okay!” I gasped though, far too quick to hide my eagerness. “Why did you stare at me?” This one was easy. “You’re beautiful.” She smiled, and my heart fluttered. But then she grinned mischievously. “What was the last thing you thought about me before I came over?” My heart started to hammer. I couldn’t tell her, could I? You think those things, but you never tell about it, not to anyone. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to be? But her hand tightened around mine reassuringly and she bent forward. My eyes flickered to the hint of the insides of her soft breasts, glimpsed black, lacy seams, and the words tumbled from my lips. “Your wrinkles. I mean,” I stammered, “they’re so cute and intriguing, and I just wanted to go over and ask you if I could explore them…” I had to pause, and I felt myself tumbling into chasm when I forced the words into existence. “…with my tongue.” My cheeks burned, a crimson inferno that gave away the embarrassment I felt. But she didn’t flinch or look at me startled. Instead, her smile became even softer, and my heartbeat slowly calmed down. “If I do this…” She flipped over my hand and caressed my palm with two fingers, in such a simple yet intimate gesture. “…do you feel it in your pussy?” My breath hitched once more. And now that she had asked about it, I did feel it. Every soft stroke of her fingertips found its echo in a warm, fluttering, utterly delicious feeling between my thighs. “Yes,” I whispered, “oh god, yes!” She had me. There was no pretending, no denying. And she set out for the kill. “Have you ever made love to another woman?” “No,” I whispered, barely audible, and my mind began to flood me with images of her perfect breasts, her lean legs, her soft skin. I wondered what color her nipples were, and I yearned to see every little detail of her body and worship it. I almost missed her next words. “Perfect,” she whispered, and she rolled the word over her tongue like a piece of the most delicious chocolate. “You know,” she told me, leaning slightly back, yet without letting go of my hand, and grinned once more, “I just love games. How about raising the stakes? Let’s say… you can either ask your four questions and I’ll answer them, and then I’ll leave. Or…” She looked me deep into the eyes, her own big and enchanting, “I’ll take you home with me, and the rules change to no questions at all.” My breath started flying. The idea of not seeing her again was unbearable. Like a moth drawn to a flame, my eyes couldn’t look at anything but her. And going home with her… “Yes!” I almost shouted, but caught myself just in time so I didn’t make a spectacle out of myself. “Please. Take me home!” I knew I sounded pathetic, but I had never felt such intensity before, and tears threatened to blur my vision. “Good,” she purred, and suddenly there was a much-too-large bank note tucked under my glass and I was following her, guided by the hand she still safely held in hers. She was well-off. The car was one of these insanely expensive German SUVs, black and elegant, with lots of chrome and darkened windows. I hurried around the car and hopped onto the passenger seat, filled with a giddiness I hadn’t felt in güvenilir bahis siteleri ages – and an arousal that I hadn’t felt ever before. “Do you trust me?” she suddenly asked after the doors were shut. “Of course!” I probably did. But questions of trust had no place in my mind right now anyway. “Lean a bit forward.” She pulled something black from a compartment under the steering wheel, some piece of fabric, and then the world was plunged into darkness and skilled fingers tied a tight knot behind my head. “Why?” I asked. “No questions.” Her reply was sharp. “You have to remember that.” * * * * The ride took perhaps ten minutes, then we swerved and drove rather steeply downwards before swerving again and coming to a halt. There were no words between us, but a minute later I was traipsing along, still blindfolded, guided by her hand. The floor beneath us seemed to wiggle when she stopped, and for a curious moment I felt like falling. But then the swoosh of automated doors told me where we were, and my knees shook when the lift moved upwards. When the ding sounded to announce our destination, I felt the knot loosen and the blindfold was slipped away. Through squinting eyes I took in the grand living room before me, huge and with a dark, shimmering hardwood floor. It was tinged in a soft light and ethereal music wafted through the air. A lovely scent of jasmine and sandalwood wrapped around me with an almost spiritual quality and I just stood, admiring her as she stepped towards the cubistic leather couch, accompanied by the precise staccato of her heels. My breathing stopped when I watched her slip off her blouse and drop it to the floor. God, she was beautiful. Then she stopped for a second and slid down her skirt. Black, intricate lace panties hugged her shapely bum with absolute perfection, and once she walked on, I was mesmerized by the swaying tight half-orbs above long, slender, stocking-clad legs. “Come.” Her voice startled me out of my admiration and I followed her, feeling clumsy and silly in comparison to her perfection. She sat down on the couch and waited for me. There it was again, that tugging on the corner of her lips, half smile, half smirk, when I reached her and stood nervously before her, eyes drawn to her breasts which were caressed by the most intricate black lace. The rosy shape of her areolas peeked through the stitches at the center and I couldn’t help but think what a perfect fit for my lips they’d be. “Fold your clothes nicely on the table.” I blushed and hesitated, but she just looked at me with patience. I wanted to ask her what she expected, how I should do it. After a few seconds, she raised one eyebrow, only slightly, but enough to let me know that I was taking too long. I understood. This was her game. Her rules. I slipped off the t-shirt, self-conscious like mad and almost trembling. She stared at my chest, at these two less-than-a-hand-fulls of femininity. I had to turn to the side to fold my t-shirt on the surely deliriously expensive artwork of glass and chrome. Then I faced her again, and she nodded imperceptibly. My fingers shook like mad, and it took me three tries to unclasp my bra, pink and soft but wholly unfitting the presence of a goddess. “See!” I wanted to shout when I let gravity pull it away and caught it with my hands. “See what you do to me! Look at my nipples, how they yearn for your love!” I folded it neatly on top of the t-shirt. My jeans took me even longer, as each button struggled with my wooden fingers. But, despite shaking like a leaf, I got the jeans slipped off and folded away, and it was just my panties and socks that remained – striped socks, white and pink, childish and wonderfully comfortable, and highly embarrassing. I was burning up. And she stared, without the tiniest bit of restraint, hungrily at all the parts I exposed, and now her index finger pointed at my crotch and made short, flicking downward motions. I think I moaned when I guided the panties down my legs. The blood rushed iddaa siteleri too loud in my ears to be sure about that. My pussy felt wet and hot. The panties joined the stack and I stood there, naked except for my socks, and she smiled. God, how kissable her lips looked when she smiled. She unclasped her own bra in one practiced, fluid, self-assured motion, nothing like my own clumsy jerks, and put it on the table next to my things, almost – but only almost – brushing my naked thigh with her arm. I could feel the heat from her skin, and it sent sparks race over mine. She grinned and winked, and then her thumbs hooked into the sides of her panties and pushed them down, ever so slowly. I felt her eyes on mine, reading me, watching me watch her expose the treasure between her thighs, judging my reactions to the tiny, neatly trimmed triangle above her pubes that pointed downward, then to the puffy, soft, bare mound of her sex. A hint of rosy red peeked through her lips, like a blossom about to open, and my mouth watered. I was in love with a woman. I hadn’t thought this possible just a few hours ago, but here I was, entranced by a female twice my age. “Sit on the edge of the table.” This, I could do. I didn’t think I could control my shaking knees much longer anyway, and so I lowered my bum to the table, which felt cool and smooth. My heartbeat almost shot through the roof when the tips of her fingers touched the insides of my knees and gently pushed outward, and like puppet on a string, I followed her direction, spreading myself for her, wider and wider, until it was almost painful and my pussy lips opened and laid bare my sensitive insides. She leaned close. “Stay,” she whispered, her breath caressing my lips. “Stay like this, whatever happens.” I nodded. I’d do anything she asked me to, no matter what. Anything for my goddess. She winked and stood up, stepping around the table. It was part of the game, and I didn’t look behind me, somehow understanding that peeking wasn’t within the rules. The clicking of her heels faded, and a little later I heard a faint sound of glasses. Then a gong chimed. At first, I wondered about it, not making the connection, but when the sound was answered by the determined click-clack of her heels, anxiety grew in me. This had been a door chime. Someone else was here. Someone else might – soft giggling sounded, fabric rustled, then two sets of heels played their patterns on the floor – someone else would see me naked. I wanted to run, hide, flee. But only for a moment. The footsteps were still approaching and I was looking straight ahead. Anything, yes, I’d do anything. And it was just a game, wasn’t it? A soft shadow fell over the couch and the steps halted. Slowly, hesitantly, I looked up, and my skin exploded in crimson embarrassment. It was a woman, a little younger than her, blonde, a bombshell, with a beautiful, even tan. She was wearing a white cotton dress that exposed a lot of cleavage, but even as I looked her over, her, my goddess’, fingers pushed the straps over her shoulders and it tumbled to the floor. Then she handed her a glass of champagne, and they clinked them together and sipped with dreamy expressions. Dew clung to the outsides of the glasses and sparkled prettily. She turned towards me, my goddess, and with a wicked smile, put the glass down on the table and right between my thighs. She giggled when she slid it closer and closer towards that rosy, naughty flower between my legs. Cold moisture touched me, made me gasp, and she winked. “Don’t move,” she whispered, and I couldn’t, not with the glass so precariously close to the edge. Drops of water from the glass trickled down my pussy lips, tickling me. The woman had been naked underneath her dress, and she was stunning. She grinned at me and let out a little half-lidded moan when my goddess’ lips kissed a soft trail up her neck from her collarbone. A stab of envy shot through my heart. Teeth nibbled at the soft skin, and she gasped, “Clarissa!” “Shush,” my goddess told her to be quiet and put a finger to her lips. At least I knew her name now, and I whispered it silently. My goddess, Clarissa, got on the couch and leaned back, propping herself up next to the corner, pulling the blonde with her.

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