Colleen. Fair skinned and red haired. Long dark hair cut short, but still think and a handful. Her eyes were deep and rich, hiding a secret behind them. Her body? Oh, she had curves. Held in a way that was both and sexy, a body that you could enjoy and explore, a body that just oozed sensuality for me.

I met her through a posting one of us had put up. I’m not sure who answered whom at this point, but it was enough that we found such similarity between us. Both in our likes and dislikes, as well as our attitudes and level of open mindedness, as well as our mutual desire for a power exchange — fortunately from opposite sides of the same coin. The subtext that flowed through our email breathed of sensual pursuits and erotic adventures, of her enjoying a strong hand and a dominating spirit — something that caused the pulse to beat a bit harder and the imagination to wander.

We finally agreeing to meet at an upscale corner bar — a place in New York’s Meat Packing district, for upscale cocktails and whispered conversations. Dark lights and low tables that induced strangers into illicit glances and covert subtleties.

We met and chatted, having only known each other’s typing, well aside from a brief conversation over the phone that is. We quickly settled into some initial conversation, keeping it light until we both overcame the social mores that a cocktail is great for. By our second cocktail, our conversation floated toward the sensual side. At first a joke about spanking, then a comment about tasting which slid into a subtle touch, some glances. A finger on each others knees, thighs, shoulders and faces. It was enough. We kissed in public, before I rose for the restroom. I returned, but rather than to my bar seat, I pressed up behind her, letting my cock just touch the cleft between her cheeks, pressing my hardness into her ass. I could feel her curve her back, raising her rear up to me, as if a cat in heat, readying herself for penetration. Her skirt stretched around her rump, outlining her firm flesh perfectly. My own cock feeling the valley formed in the fabric.

We stood like that until the bill came, and then that was it for the evening. Just enough to know what we wanted and to hope for more. Something to solidify what we imagined was there, and to see where it could all go.

Our next meeting was set for Sunday. A private brunch; something fun and interesting and enabling us to take things to the next level if we wished. Something that would allow her to sit back and enjoy, a chance to speak more honestly than we could in public, but also to be led to her own pleasures. It was agreed that I would show up with our brunch. So I spent Saturday shopping — for farm fresh eggs for poaching, lox and fresh bread. I also picked up some champagne and orange juice for mimosas, as well as fresh fruit — strawberries, blueberries, melon, a banana and ripe mangos. I also added some honey into the bag for my own tastes, as well as a toy I thought might come to use. What casino oyna can I say, but some delights for us to snack on and enjoy.

On Sunday, I arrived at her door and knocked gently. It swung open to reveal her in a knee length skirt and blouse. I smiled. Her blouse was just revealing, nothing too much, but enough to give a hint of what lay beneath. She gave me a light peck at the door and invited me in.

Her apartment was small but nice. What we’d call Brooklyn Compaction — small, but well done. She asked what I had brought, but instead I simply went to the kitchen to pour us both a mimosa and set out some food. A tray of samples as it were – fruit that was light and easy, along with some scones. We started to talk, to pick up from where we had left off. We sipped our mimosas too quickly and got a bit of a head going. Smirks and smiles, slipping with flirtations, kept us going until the first bottle was finished. And when it was, I opened the second, the two of us together pouring yet another glass.

It was then that I walked behind her, invading her personal space and placing my hands on her waist. I could feel her tension, I could feel her hesitancy and her desire mixed in her stance. I also could feel my own desire to pick up where we left off in the bar. I pulled her hips toward me, arching her back as her hands left the glasses and braced herself on the countertop. She tried to turn towards me. Perhaps for an embrace, but I would never know. Instead I kissed her neck and told her I wanted to taste her. Her breath was a rush, perhaps even a bit of a moan. I kissed her neck, her back, her buttocks. Then rose back up to follow her spine back upwards to her neck and shoulders again.

I told her to bring the drinks to the table, leading her as I walked behind her, my hands guiding her hips to the dining table. I tell her to bend forward because I want to taste her. She does, stopping at the plate of sliced fruit in front of her. I step behind her and open her blouse, opening each button and pulling her shirt aside. Her braless breasts bounce slightly at they fall our and as I push her even further forward. Her breasts press into the fruit, I can see her try to pull up, uncomfortable with the contact to the wet flesh, but my gentle hand on her back prevents her. Instead I raise her skirt up, up over her buttocks and waist. I roll it up on her waist to keep it and to make sure her ass and pussy are completely bared and open to me. And that is when I sit at the table to taste.

I open my shirt and lean forward, my tongue just barely touching the puckering skin around her anus. I lick first, then push my tongue into her folds. I can hear a quick, light gasp. That’s enough. I turn my head sideways and move downward to her pussy. I can see her lips glistening from the moisture. I can see the open like an Asian flower. I can smell her scent as her body readies herself whether she wants to or not.

That was it. An invitation for me to continue. And I did. I licked canlı casino deeply into her — feeling the folds of her sex open to me. Tasting the salty, pungent flavor of her sensuality. I reached forward and felt the edge of the plate her body was resting on. I could feel the cold, wet flesh of the fruit. I grabbed one. It was a mango, a fruit that was soft and pliant like the folds of her pussy. I rubbed it onto her, letting the sprinkle of chili I had used absorb itself into her tender flesh. I could see the faint pepper have its effect — turning the skin just rosy, and causing her to jump. I licked the fruit that was halfway into her opening, then devoured the sweet and savory delight before me. I spent minutes playing with her juices, watching the strands of sticky wetness connect my tongue to her clit. I watched as she moaned and writhed from my tongue, the peppers, the fruit itself.

I stood and walked to her, offering her the mango that tasted so much like her. She opened her mouth, as if to suck in my cock, but settled on the fruit itself. I told her to unbutton me. And she did. She quickly opened my pants and reached in for my cock. I pulled back and reached down, pulling out a strawberry and placing it in her mouth.

“Chew it, but don’t swallow it.” I told her. She did, and when it was masticated, I slid my cock into her mouth. I watched as the juice and some of the pulp slid from the side of her mouth. I watched as she tried to keep it all in, but couldn’t. I watched as my cock came out reddened from the berries. I also watched as her body lunged forward on the table to try and take more of me into her lips.

I removed my cock and placed several rasberries into her mouth. This time I held her hair and turned her head, forcing her lips to open as I shoved my cock in a bit harder this time. Again, I watched as she tried to take more and more in. She gagged just a bit, both on the fruit and my own flesh. My hand moved down her blouse and to her rump. I slapped her. Hard. Leaving a redness on her cheek. My hand slid downward, into the cleft between right and left, my fingers moving to her wetness. I slid a finger into her, feeling for the firmness that occurs on the front wall. Looking to stimulate it before removing my cock and reaching from more fruit to taste myself.

I sat down again, rubbing her clit with a slice of banana before taking it into my mouth and again, spending time eating her pussy. I tell Colleen to reach back and spread herself for me. She does, her own hands reach for her lips, pulling them apart so I can sink my face deeper and deeper into her. I stop to remove a bit of mashed banana and to offer it to her. She lets go of her lips for a moment to lift up and turn. I spank her again. Hard.

“Don’t ever let go of your lips, unless I tell you to.” She almost whimpers. She turns her head, mashing her breasts further into the fruit they are resting on. Her lips search for the banana. I press it into them and she barely has to chew before kaçak casino swallowing. As a punishment I take a slice of nectarine and press it into her ass. I have to use a finger to ease her open just a bit, mashing the nectarine into the pucker of her anus. I lick it, licking her ass, rimming her with the fruit. I rise again, offering her my finger with the fruit pressed into my own flesh. She takes it. Her eyes losing a bit of their focus, telling me she’s going over.

I pick up the teaspoon from the honey jar, and dribble it on my cock. I smile as she rises to engulf it. I watch as the honey coats her lips, smears on her cheeks. I take another teaspoonful and dribble it only her lips and my cocks, intentionally sending sticky strands across her cheeks. I lift my cock out, stroking it as her lips sink down to my balls.

I reach down and continue to fuck her with the fruit. My own efforts becoming harder, stronger, driven by the lust and passion I have for my access to her ass and cunt. I hand her the fruit from her pussy, telling her what it is and watching as she turns her head from my balls to accept it without letting go of her pussy. Her face is stained with the color of my cock — reddened by the berries I have pressed into her pussy. Her ass now has a banana sticking from it. Her pussy is golden with the honey. I want to eat more. I do. I bend my face to her, eating her and the fruit as one. Hearing her moan. Finally allowing her to let go of her own pussy so she can push back into my mouth. I want to taste her, to feel her, to embrace her orgasm.

When I finally slide my cock into her, it is without resistance. It is mixed with the pulp of fruit and the lubricant of her own body. I fuck her slowly. I watch as she turns, her eyes glassy, her mouth open, her face sticky, stained, and a canvas of brunch. I pull her hair back, forcing her body to arch more, forcing her to open her cunt to my thrusts.

And when I cum, I pull out to cum onto her ass and pussy. I cum to that I can taste that too. So that I can gather it in my mouth — a collection of cum, of her pussy, and of the fruit I brought — and kiss her deeply.

I pull her off the table onto me. I’m still hard and want more. So I pull her down onto my cock and re-enter her. We kiss harder, deeper, our bodies entwining in the orgy our brunch has become. My fingers reach behind her to press into her ass, to play with her clit, to spank her and stimulate her further than before. I let her taste my fingers before going again, watching her cum and cum again.

Almost numbed, we rose and took a long, hot shower. Soaping each other tenderly, exploring each other in a new way. Sucking, tasting, caressing, but now more softly. And after we dried each other, I sat her down while I poached the eggs and toasted the muffins and prepare a quick lemon/butter sauce. Each egg, settled atop the lox, atop the muffin, with just a drizzle of the lemon sauce.

I made us some strong coffee. And we dined on a proper brunch. She smiled, starved for the food, loving the care it was prepared with. I smiled knowing how she enjoyed both courses. Knowing she hadn’t even thought about the remote stimulator I had brought for the third course…

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