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Blimey! Those were some seriously long legs. They were almost the first thing I saw when I entered the room, certainly the first thing that got my attention. She was tall and slim and standing with her back to me near the top table, chatting to Tor’s daughter. She was wearing a dark grey, very stylish, very short, very figure hugging dress. It just covered her bum to the small of her back, then scooped around to her hips before rising up to her armpits, it left the cream coloured skin of her back completely exposed, as I got closer I could just see that it was held in place by two transparent shoulder straps. The only other item of clothing she seemed to be wearing were a pair of very high electric blue stilettos. Her black hair hung down to between her shoulder blades. I couldn’t see her front but I’m sure she looked fantastic, she certainly did from the back.

This was the wedding reception of a friend of mine, Tor (shortened from Victoria, a name which, for no particular reason, she hated). She and I worked a couple of days a week at a mid-sized country mansion, she as the housekeeper and I as the maintenance man, this was her wedding reception. The venue being the town hall; a large old building that has had a number of reincarnations in its life; from manor house, to military billet, to military hospital, to private residence, to private school and finally to this, the town hall. In an attempt to generate an income and to cash in on its many rooms and extensive gardens they now conducted corporate events and weddings. The wedding venue was on the first floor and encompassed a large hall, where the wedding ceremony had been held and the DJ had now set up, a bar, a buffet room and a number of other smaller rooms, the 100 or so members of the wedding party and their guests had spread out between them.

After an hour of chatting to various people, including Tor, and nursing a single drink I’m sitting outside watching the darkening night sky.

“I think you’re the only one wearing a suit.”

Turn around to find the girl in the grey dress standing a few feet to my left. “Not quite true, but I don’t see anything wrong in that.”

“Didn’t say there was anything wrong in it, in fact I meant the opposite. I like a man in a suit, and it is a wedding, I just wish men would make more of an effort.”

She’s right in that; most of the women have dressed up whereas most of the men seemed to have made a conscious effort to dress down.

She shuffled from one foot to the other so I shifted to my right and pointed to the now empty space, “Would you like to sit down?”

“Thanks.” She sits as far away from me as she can get, which actually isn’t that far but it does leave a small gap between us, and crosses her legs. A shame it was now dark, those legs would have been well worth looking at.

Instead, I look at her profile, introduce myself, “I’m David.”

A flash of white teeth, “Hi David, I’m Nicky, what are you doing out here?”

I laughed, “Hi Nicky, just fresh air and looking at the stars.”

She looked up at the black sky “Mmmmm.”

For a few minutes we sit there in quiet contemplation, then I become aware of a slight pressure against my leg, a glance down and I realise that her hand is on the bench between us and that her little finger is just touching me.

I consider my options for a moment or two, then, turning towards her I lay my left arm along the back of the bench but don’t touch her. She’s still sitting looking at the sky. I shift my hand slightly and my thumb touches her shoulder. She doesn’t move. Then, with my other hand, I start to very lightly stroke the back of her hand, again she doesn’t move but, in what light there is, I can see that her eyes have closed.

Fingertips describe random patterns up and down the warm soft skin of her arm; I can feel the downy hairs lift at the contact, at some point she begins to shiver. Up her arm onto her shoulder, then her neck: building the sensations, behind her ear, trace round her earlobe, across her forehead, lightly brush her eyebrows, down her nose; thumb and forefinger follow the curves of her lips; they part and my forefinger slips in to rub across her teeth; she shudders as though a wave of cold air has washed over her. Finger slips out of her mouth, for a second dragging her bottom lip with it, down onto her chin, follow her jawline back to her neck, down and back to her shoulder then those random patterns down her arm.

Once more stroking the backs of her fingers my knuckles brush against the side of her thigh, shift what little pressure there is from my fingertips to my knuckles. Down her thigh to her knee, fingertips circle her kneecap, then swirling patterns over her thigh from her knee up towards the hem of her dress: swirling patterns that trace her shivering muscles and smooth skin, each stroke bringing my fingers higher and higher.

Until they push against her dress; fingertips spread, glide across her skin, so soft I can barely feel it.

Almost unconsciously denizli escort her legs part. My fingers edge up.

At the very faintest of contacts between her thighs I stop: slightly sooner than I’d expected, a different feel to what I’d expected. She tenses, holds her breath.

My mind is a blur as I realise what is different, instead of the expected, and anticipated, heat of a pussy my fingers are touching the now unmistakable bump of a cock; a swelling cock.

Is she a she or is she a he? I’d only seen Nicky from behind, but I’d swear she was a she.

Choices run through my head, but not for long, it doesn’t matter, I’m not new to this, it won’t be the first time I’ll have had a cock in my hand, it was just…not what I’d been expecting.

Nicky is still Nicky, and we’re here right now and we both clearly wanted this, so…

Fingers move, the smallest of rubs up and down; she makes a slight noise at the back of her throat: almost a whimper, lets out her breath.

Increase the pressure and continue to rub up and down in a gentle rhythm. The heat grows, as does her cock: it pushes against the restraining fabric of her knickers. Twist my hand, grip her shaft, a slight squeeze. She gasps, her cock pulses, thickens in my grip.

Her breathing quickens and I feel her bum twitch as she lifts against my fingers, the fluttering under her skin intensifies.

I let go of her, reach up and grip the top of her knickers, she lifts her bum and I pull them down to her knees. Her cock springs free, I rake my fingernails up its length, fingertips brush across the bulbous head. Fingers envelop her; she groans: it’s long, very slightly curved, a little thicker at the base than the tip; which is by no means thin, the shaft very hard, the foreskin fully drawn back exposing the glans. Which feels the perfect shape: its skin is stretched tight, a different texture to the shaft: softer, smoother, silkier.

Fingers continue their exploration: fingertips, nails, knuckles, all adding their own touch as they dance up and down her length; her erection now rock solid, straining, pulsing under my hand. Massage her cockhead with my thumb, spread the sticky bead of pre-cum.

Hear breath hissing through her teeth.

Once again I wrap my fingers around her hot girth, gently pump up and down. All the way up then all the way down.

Feel the heat, her shaft seems to become even thicker, her bum beginning to squirm.

I can feel the sensations building within her as I pump her cock, her breathing becomes ragged, gasping. Her bum pushing up to meet my hand. And, just as she’s about to burst, I drop my head into her lap, my mouth envelops her as I feel that first spasm under my fingers.

Hear her gasp as I feel it hit the back of my throat, resist that first impulse to gag, and swallow.

Her hand grasps the back of my head, pushes me down, her bum pushes up, thrusting into my face as the next spurt hits my throat.

She’s shaking and groaning as I swallow as quickly as I can, taking each thick, slightly salty, actually slightly sweet jet as it comes.

She stays locked like that for a couple of minutes, her cock jammed in my mouth. And I suck every last drop I can out of her.

Then she sighs, relaxes, releases her grip and slumps.

Slowly I sit upright releasing her softening cock. Lick my lips and sit back.

In a shaky sleepy voice, “Ooooh, didn’t expect that.”

I chuckle, take a drink, “Oh neither did I, and I didn’t realise that you were expecting anything.”

“Mmmmm, when I came to the reception I wasn’t,” she paused, thinking, “the last guy I went with was a real brute and it put me off for ages. Then, when I first saw you, you looked…ok, and I know it was a bit naughty but I was feeling really horny so when I sat down I was hoped for something, but used to either disgust and a quick exit or grappling sweaty fingers, even been hit once, I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”

“Hmmm, well when I came here I wasn’t expecting to be grappling with anyone, sweaty or otherwise.”

“Oh believe me, that wasn’t grappling or sweaty, that was…mmmmm. But that’s not your first time?”

“With a cock? No, to use the term, I’m bisexual, but I have to say, you’re my first girl with a cock.”


“Phased me a bit for a second, but that’s a lovely cock on a very attractive girl so I guess you could say the best of both worlds.”

My hand is still lightly stroking the soft skin of her inner thigh and I felt her shiver, “Is there any more where that came from?” She almost sounded sheepish.

I chuckled again, “What, now?”

I felt her pause for a second, as if suddenly unsure of herself. I kept quiet.

“Hmmmm, yes?” There was a lift at the end making it that uncertain question, as though she had maybe asked the wrong thing.

I looked at her silhouette, she wasn’t facing me.

Still stroking her thigh, antalya escort “Maybe, but definitely no grappling and not here.”

Her voice was still not certain, “I don’t want grappling and…where?”

Another seconds pause, “Come on.”

I stand and watch her. She looks up at me, I can’t see her expression, then stands. She takes a moment to pull up her knickers and adjust herself.

“Give it a minute and then follow me.” I turn and walk towards the building.

I don’t wait for an answer, it’s up to her whether or not she follows, but turn and walk towards the front door, then, as I cross a gravel strip, I hear her light steps crunching on the stones.

I walk passed the half dozen smokers, through the front door and up the main stairs. Pausing, I glance back to make sure that she can still see me then head down the corridor directly away from the rooms occupied by the wedding reception. Getting to the first corner I stop and wait for her, for a moment or two it seems as though she’s had a change of mind but then she appears from a side room clutching a small handbag.

That short distance was the first time I’d looked at her from the front, and I was right, she really did look fantastic. And it wasn’t just those ridiculously long legs: she had a great figure, not skinny but definitely lean, and she walked like a model; long strides, one foot in front of the other; I briefly wondered if she had had to work on that considering the, not insignificant, package she had between her thighs, and there was nothing in her walk that would lead you to imagine that she had that package. Slender hips and even more slender waist, she had quite wide shoulders but they just seemed to accentuate how lean she was; even her boobs were in proportion: not big or small just…in proportion. And clearly no bra. Her face seemed to continue the look: she appeared to be wearing very little makeup other than a coral coloured lipstick, thin lips, high cheekbones and a slightly pointed chin lengthened her face, almond shaped eyes and black eyebrows all framed by her long black hair made her, to me, extremely attractive. She was definitely a she. And I would guess mid 20s: not even half my age! And that dress was inspired, it looked a million dollars on her. But when she reached me I stop thinking about it.

I take her hand and carry on down the corridor. Each time I get to a door I try it: locked, a storeroom, full of furniture, locked. Then success, on flicking a light switch I find we’ve got a snooker room. The four wall-uplighters just about illuminate the room enough to see the full size table plus several wingback chairs, small tables and other furniture around the walls.

Pulling her in behind me I close and, the luck is still with me, lock the door.

Still holding her hand I walk over to the end of the table and turn to her; she’s looking round the room a little wide-eyed then meets my eyes and blinks.

I rest my forehead on hers.

“Ok?” I ask.

She closes her eyes. “Mmmmm.”

I kiss her and she instantly responds, her body sinking into mine; she throws her hands around the back of my head mashing her lips to mine. I feel her bag tumble down my back onto the table as I grip her waist pulling her to me, her body; from her knees to her chest, rests against me; she’s trembling, her kiss filled with need and passion. My cock responds instantly, she squirms against its pressure rotating her hips rubbing her own thickening cock across mine, they both jump at the contact and I, just for a random second, try to remember if I had ever been able to achieve an erection so soon after cumming, probably, but back in the dim and distant past.

She breaks the kiss, pants hot breath into my face, groans, pushes her groin into mine. “Fuck, I want that!”

She slides down my body, sending my temperature even higher, sinking to her knees, her hungry fingers make short work of my belt, button and zip sending my trousers and boxers to my ankles.

“Mmmmmm nice.” Nicky muttered as she took me in hand, “Now that is well worth getting to know.”

“Well don’t work too hard on him, going to need some for later.”

She chuckled, “Ooooh that sounds promising.”

Then her wet tongue flicks across the tip of my cock and I gave up on speaking.

I’d always felt that having a cock myself kind of gave me an insight into how to pleasure one, at least a basis from which to start; I began to get the feeling, in more ways than one, than Nicky had the same theory.

So I just close my eyes and let her carry on with the practical.

Felt her tongue swirling around the head, tracing its shape, dipping into the slit, one way then the other, long cat like laps or just the very point of her tongue. Then followed my length, still just using her tongue, all the way down the side to my stomach then back up putting pressure on the thick tube of my urethra until her tongue once again wrapped around the izmir escort head. Her lips touch me, her head pushes forward until her wet mouth envelops me, just the head in her mouth, her lips seal tight behind the ridge of my glans. Both her hands grip my shaft, a wash of saliva bathes my cock, her head bobs up and down, the tiniest of movements, her tongue massaging me, teeth occasionally brushing across the tender flesh. Her hands pump up and down, not squeezing, not fast, following the rhythm of her head.

My cockhead is getting hypersensitive, the constant swirl of her mouth, the flick and pressure of her tongue, the occasional catch of her teeth all combine to generate sensations that were designed to do only one thing, and I can feel it fast approaching.

One hand slips down to my balls, cups them, begins to gently massage them.

These multiple sensations wash through me: one hand stroking my balls, the other massaging my shaft and her wet, saliva filled mouth sucking and bobbing on my cockhead.

I can do nothing but stand there, leaning against the snooker table, concentrating hard, pushing back against the urge to cum, the urge to relax and let those sensations overtake me and explode in her mouth.

My cock felt huge, the skin stretched tight, tissue thin, the nerve endings buzzing, the glans picking up on every little thing her mouth did: I could feel her lips sliding up and down over the ridges and hollows, the tip of her tongue flicking and the sucking of her cheeks moving the saliva around.

Her hands were still doing their thing, one still danced up and down my shaft, now wet from saliva escaping the seal of her lips, the other still played my balls: stroking, massaging and scratching them. On any other day all that in itself would have been enough to send me over the edge long ago and it was only a supreme effort of concentration that stopped it from happening.

Then she did something that had me gasping and pushed me up on the tips of my toes; she deepthroated me! The realisation of what she’d done came a split second after she’d done it.

Her lips didn’t stop at the base of my glans, they slid on down my shaft, my cock rubbed along the roof of her mouth, then the back of her tongue, I felt her throat; she paused, then pushed me down.

The feeling was amazing.

It was only the second time anyone had ever done that to me before, and the first time had been decades before so I was totally unprepared for how it felt: the heat and tightness, even just having so much of my cock in her mouth was a totally different feeling.

And that was the end of all those sensations stacking up against me; I knew that if I didn’t stop her right there and then there would be no turning back.

“Stop Stop!” I gasped, tried to pull back but I was pinned against the snooker table. I started to apply gentle pressure to her head to let her know that I needed her to stop. She moaned and pushed forward even more with her head, I could feel myself sinking even further down her throat; god, how was she taking it? I groaned, knowing what the outcome was going to be if I didn’t stop her. Luckily my protestations and the breaking of my thoughts had interrupted my body’s descent into loss of control and I had given myself another chance.

I’d also broken her single-mindedness and she allowed me to ease her back and my cock out of her throat. She looked up, slightly disappointed, but eyes sultry, full of lust, lipstick smeared across her mouth, cheeks flushed. I grinned at her, cupped her face in my hands, whispered, “Stand up.”

She pushed herself to her feet.

“I’m sorry Nicky, but I did ask you not to go too far, especially if you want to…” I paused, looked at her in what I hoped was a meaningful, suggestive way.

She pouted; an almost childlike sulky look, then grinned.

Still holding her face I kiss her again, could taste me on her lips and tongue. I peel her dress straps down her arms pulling her dress to her waist. Roll her nipples under the palms of my hands, pinch them between my fingertips, give them a tweak.

Feel a growl in her throat as I slide my hands down to her hips, edge her dress up to expose her knickers, her cock straining against the lace, she groans as I rub a hand down its length, then I pull her knickers away to lift it out; that slight upward curve, thick and hard; slightly shorter than mine but definitely thicker, her foreskin has pulled back completely exposing the head, and from behind the head she has a very prominent vein running all the way along the top down to the base.

My fingertips wander over her hot flesh, trail a smear of sticky pre-cum from the gaping slit over the taut skin of her glans, down the soft sensitive underside, reach under to cradle her balls; they’re tiny, her sac almost flat to her body. Back up the flat, hard top to wrap my hand around the thick shaft, squeeze hard. Let go of it.

I shuffle around behind her and ease myself down onto my knees.

Her bum is exquisite, small taut buttocks covered by the white lace of her knickers. I pull them down her legs and over her stilettos, drop them on the floor.

By fuck that is some view: stilletos at one end, dress at the other and, in between, there are these long lean legs topped by this tight smooth bum.

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