Sex stories

Erotic fiction and short sex stories




How I Met Her

Christmas. It's the most wonderful time of the year. Those are the words of the song, right? Not when you're alone, it isn't. I can speak from bitter experience of thirteen Christmas Eves past. It's the most lonely night of the calendar, in my view. I hated Christmas Eve because of the loneliness. The emptiness and longing to be ... not alone.

So, finally I'd succumbed to the temptation. To the lure of the internet. To a 'singles party' on the night when Santa would be riding his sleigh to a billion children's homes. On a cold winter's evening, when I was too old to be out partying but too desperate for company not to be. The baleful look I'd given myself in the mirror reflected the added foreboding that once I'd gotten this horrid loneliness fest out of the way, I had another to look forward to as well — New Year's Eve. So, perhaps because of the baleful look I'd caught myself giving, I'd made an extra special effort to look as good as I could. And I could look good. Okay, so I was in my forties but I was fit, active, and fun. That's the special irony of my loneliness — I was quite a good catch. I looked hard at myself again. I checked out the fit of the deep navy Jaeger suit that hugged my shoulders. I looked at my ass in the tight trousers - the light pinstripe emphasising the swell of my round buttocks. Not bad at all, I thought. Not too shabby ...

"Don't get your hopes up, Sunshine," I admonished my reflection, "A tenner says you're back here and in bed before midnight. Alone."

I stepped out of the front door of my batchelor pad on the top floor of a building I could probably easily afford to move out of. But it held a sort of strange draw. Something told me that while I was alone I should stay. Something told me that lonely guys like me shouldn't be moving to swankier buildings closer to town. Guys like me could get on perfectly well living in these parts. Besides it was a nice apartment. It was the best one in the building. I tripped lightly down the stairs, adjusted the collar of the Crombie I'd slipped on and headed out through reception and into the night.

It's simple beginnings like that that just don't give you any clues as to how your life is going to go, isn't it? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd wanted my life to change that night. I'd wanted what happened to happen ...

As I sat in the back of the taxi my mind began to drift. I remembered what my friends had said the other evening at the gym ...

"Maybe you're just meant to be single, Sparrow." Pete my best friend had stood in front of me, bare to the waist, with his towel wrapped around himself. He was jabbing his finger at me as I sat on the bench in the changing room. John chimed in, "You're too much of a nice guy, Sparrow, that's your trouble — treat 'em mean and keep 'em keen, I say." He swaggered out of the shower, naked. 5'6" but built like the proverbial brick out house, he had muscles on his muscles. He grinned over at Pete and me. It was easy for him to say. He was so confident with everything in life. I studied him — his body wet from the shower and his balding head shining with the heat. Maybe, I thought, he wasn't as confident as he appeared underneath. I mean, even I could appear confident and a leader on the outside ... No, John was different — he was deep-down confident. He strutted over to me and Pete, his massive cock swinging between his rippling thighs. Is that what women want? I mused to myself as I watched him. I thought they did. Every woman wants a strong confident man. That was how I acted whenever I met a girl. And, in truth, it felt right in most cases. With the women I met, it felt right that I was the confident, typical alpha male — it was what they seemed to want. And that was the reason it never lasted.

I wanted something else. I wasn't sure what I wanted but I knew it wasn't what these girls had. I had a feeling deep down. A feeling that I was only half aware of. A secret that even I could only half admit to myself ...

The taxi jolted over a bump in the road and I snapped back to the present. We were passing the Cock and Hen. I remembered the previous week when I'd been attending an open mic night there. The girl. Her. I'd watched her perform her three songs back to back and I was mesmerised. She was a raven haired beauty with deep, deep blue eyes and a sensuous mouth. Her make up was flawless and she wore her cascading black hair, over to one side, showing her alluring neck. I'd studied her figure and allowed my mind to wander as I'd lingered over her curves. But it was her voice that I remembered now. Her breathy, soulful voice, delivering the sensual lyrics to her songs. I'd made up my mind to approach her after her set and buy her a drink. But as I stood and caught her eye a tall man came over and held out his hand for her to go with him. "C'mon babe, we're leaving," he'd said, and she was gone. Was it my imagination that she'd looked over her shoulder at me as she left? I shook my head; no, the guy she was with had put his arm round her and she'd oozed into his side. And then she was gone. What would she want with a guy like me when she had someone like him. Someone a bit like John probably.

"Get real, Sparrow." I lectured myself as we turned up Broad Street towards the club. "Forget your silly visions and concentrate on the here and now ..."

As we pulled up to the "Full Soul Lounge" — the club where the singles night had been arranged — I pulled out my wallet and generously tipped the driver. "Be here at 1am, okay?" He agreed and greedily stuffed the cash into his breast pocket before waiting momentarily for me to shut the door and taking off back down the road, to the airport, or the station ... or wherever his next fair might be. I looked down the street, suddenly wishing I was heading away with him — away from this club and this night, which was sure to end in disappointment again. But there was something. Something different. Tonight, there was almost the faint glow of hope in my heart. Almost as if I could feel a premonition of something. I laughed at myself and shook my head as I walked up to the doormen.

"Name?"

I looked at him. Typical of the type — ignorant and lacking any kind of grace. "Are you talking to me?" I said and glanced around myself. He looked confused. I continued. "Only, I thought there must be a dog behind me or something." He looked even more confused and starting to get impatient.

"Name?"

"Look, would it kill you to be a bit more civil?" I ventured. "I've come out for a nice night out and I"m not used to being treated like an animal to be herded rather than an actual customer." With that, the penny dropped and the doorman changed tack ever so slightly. "Beg pardon," he began caustically, "name ... sir?"

I sighed. "Sparrow." I gave him my eye as he smirked at my name and perused his guest list. I've never been intimidated by physical types, as I've always known how to look after myself in that department, so I carried on looking him in the eye. "Here we are 'mister' Sparrow, go on in. Enjoy your evening, Sir." I chuckled and held out my hand, "There, that didn't hurt, did it?" I slipped him the folded up tenner as I went past.

I remembered the last time I'd been in this club. Must've been nearly ten years earlier. I had been with a girl then who'd started me on the path that I was currently heading down in life. How ironic that I'd come here again after all that time and, despite my vowing to myself that I'd not give up on finding the right woman for me ... the woman of my dreams ... that I'd come here and still be single.

The girl who'd changed my life had been, well to put it mildly, different. She'd not been interested in me as 'relationship potential' but she'd agreed to "take me on temporarily and condition me". Well, that 'conditioning' had been a bit of an eye-opener! To put it mildly again, she'd been a dominatrix. And she'd taken me on to 'convert' me, she'd said. And she'd attempted to beat out of me all my old-fashioned male values (those were her words) and turn me into a good boy. A good, obedient, submissive boy.

Well, I'd run a mile after a week or two! But, every so often, there were little thoughts that crept into my private musings. And gradually, slowly, those thoughts had turned to a slight obsession. Not one that I could admit to myself. And indeed I never met anyone who I'd even faintly felt like I wanted to explore the feelings with ... Not until ...

Not until I'd seen a raven haired singer across a crowded room the other night, that was. How bizarre was that.

But anyway, that girl. The singer. She obviously wouldn't be interested in that type of guy. She'd been with an alpha male type that evening ...

Besides, the one time I'd half confessed my inner feelings to my oldest friend, a girl I'd grown up with from age 5, she'd almost laughed at me. "Seriously, Jack?" She'd questioned me. "You think you might be that way inclined? Well, that's your love life over sunshine if that's the case." Then, when I'd sort of back-tracked about it and made a joke, she'd relaxed a bit. "Honestly, darling, girls don't want that kind of 'man'. They want to 'be' dominated not be the one who 'does' the dominating, trust me."

So I shrugged my shoulders. As I walked towards the noisy dance floor, I told myself one more time. "Just be yourself, Jack Sparrow. Your normal, confident take-charge self. You know that being a submissive isn't the 'real' you anyway. Not really ... It's only a 'part' of you."

I burst into the crowded room and started to get swept toward the dancing thrum ...

I got as far as the champagne bar. I managed to catch the eye of the serving guy. He approached me as best he could, swerving around the jolting, swaying crowds of people. I watched him drawing near with a half smile, trying to look concerned at his troubled journey to me. As I watched, I caught sight of a girl's neck. Just a glimpse through the crowd and then it was gone. But there was something familiar about it, that neck. Was there a tattoo, or the way the dark hair cascaded over the bare shoulder ...

"Sir!"

The serving guy was trying to get my attention. "Sorry my friend, I was miles away there."

"Yes, I could tell, sir. What can I get you?"

"Erm, could I have a bottle of your house champagne, an ice bucket and two glasses?" I smiled. "On second thought, make it the vintage."

"That's eighty six fifty per bottle sir"

I cringed inwardly. God, I'd need a second mortgage at this rate. "That's fine, here's a hundred, you just keep an eye on me and make sure I don't get thirsty this evening ..." I glanced at his name badge, " ...Dan." He smiled at me, taking my money. "Of course, Sir. Have a great night. Sonia will be over with your order soon."

"Dan, who's that girl?" I pointed at the bare glittered shoulders, cascading black hair and thin chain sliding down the spine. She'd just come into view again as I'd been talking to him.

"I'm not sure, sir." He replied. "Never seen her before."

"Could you ask Sonia to pour her a glass of my champagne and send it to her?"

"Consider it done." He drifted off with a lascivious grin. I stared at the girl as the crowd started to close in and cut my view down. I had a strange sensation and involuntarily glanced down for a fraction of a second before I realised I was getting an erection. Fuck. I turned away. A helpless gesture as the club was simply packed in all directions and there was no hiding place. Besides what was the point of turning away from a woman to spare her blushes when she didn't even know shed given me an erection?

"Nice package, mate."

I came round from my thoughts again and was confronted by the sight of two blonde girls with not much on giggling and clearly halfway to their respective hangovers already. They staggered up to me and the one on the right repeated, "I said, nice package. Hic." I blushed crimson and they both cackled. "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you jush pleased to shee me?" The other one blurted. I hastily tried to think of ways I could get away from this steaming pair and I whirled my head to try and catch another glimpse of the girl but she'd vanished ...

And so did I.

I emerged eventually from the gents. I looked around for the two drunk tarts and determined that they weren't there, thankfully. One of them had physically assaulted me. Although I seriously doubted that anyone from this place would consider a grown man having his crotch felt by a party girl constituted assault. I headed back over to the champagne bar, suddenly disconsolate. Was this the best I was going to experience tonight? A pissed girl copping a feel of my cock? I found Sonia who dutifully set my champagne down on a tray table next to a quietish booth near the patio doors.

I noticed that there was only one glass and an amount already poured from the bottle. "Did you find her?"

"Oh yes, sir, no trouble, " she replied. "A beautiful looking lady."

"Thank you. Where is she?"

"Well sir, perhaps it would be best if I didn't say. You see she didn't look as though she was really enjoying the evening so far. Looked like she wanted to be alone, to be honest."

My heart sank and I waved the girl away with my hollow thanks and curt smile. Well, that's it. Looks like I'm going to win that tenner off myself after all. "Home by midnight. Alone ..."

I looked up suddenly and gave myself a virtual kick up the backside. "Now come on Sparrow, you know better than to give up!" So I looked around behind my seat and there, literally right behind me all this time, was the girl. Drinking my champagne ...

Oh. My. God. It was not only the girl I'd seen earlier, whom I'd been moved to buy champagne for and who'd given me the raging and unexpected hardon, it was her! The singer. The girl from the Cock and Hen. The girl who I'd tried to buy a drink for before but whose boyfriend and come and whisked her away before I'd got a chance. I looked around quickly. Was he there tonight? That tall guy who'd literally snapped his fingers at her and commanded her to come away — was he here tonight? Was she single after all?

I felt my cheeks flush as I looked at her. My cock began to stiffen. Underneath my crisp white shirt, my nipples were straining and standing out like little bolts. She was magnificent. Such a rare vision. I drank her in. She had on an impossibly fitted dress which was off one shoulder, the shoulder over which the hair cascaded. She had smouldering eyes, full lips and pale delicious skin. I looked down at her bosom heaving over the top of her plunging neckline and gave a little involuntary squeak as my blood pressure rose even higher. I secretly put my hand down to cover my growing cock as I continued to gaze at her.

I suddenly felt insignificant and plain in the presence of such beauty. I simply could not take my eyes from her. I knew that I must though. It just wouldn't be right to stare at a complete stranger like this. Come on man, I begged myself, look away. Look down, look up. Anywhere, just stop staring at her ...

I finally managed to tear my eyes from her for a second. I counted to ten and tried to get my breath back. I flicked my eyes up again. She was still there. Had she seen me? Would she even notice me?

As I gazed up at this vision before me, I think I'd registered that she was looking back at me now, I determined that this woman was my adolescent dream. The girl I'd always wanted to meet. The shape of her face, her eyes, the hair ... the sexual presence she exuded ... They were all from my dreams.

I think that if she'd asked me at that point to kneel down and swear my soul in allegiance to her, I would have done. So deep was the spell she cast over me.

I stood up and walked towards her. I held out my hand. "Hi. I'm sorry I've been staring at you. You must think I'm terribly rude. Would you care to join me?" She took my hand and shook it warmly but gently, letting her fingers linger over mine as she withdrew. "Gosh no, not at all, you didn't come over as rude. Hello, by the way!" She started following me back to the booth, so I offered her the place opposite where I'd been sitting, "Is this okay?" She nodded and sat demurely on the couch. I thought I saw her sort of flinch and gasp as her bottom touched the seat but it was almost imperceptible. After she was seated and I was able to take my place, I was thankful to get back to where the table obscured my crotch and my rampant manhood.

What was it with this girl? Why did she make me feel like I needed to treat her like a princess? Was this the girl that my father had been effectively 'training' me to meet all my life? All of his words of wisdom and his admonishments for ungentlemanly behaviour suddenly came flooding back.

"So ... do you ..." I began.

"Introductions first, perhaps?" She giggled and cut me off. "I'm Faye. How do you do?"

"Sorry Faye, you're quite right. How do you do, I'm Sparrow."

"Sparrow? Is that your first name, or your surname?"

"Well, neither really," I blurted out. "It's sort of a nickname. When I was little my mother was into mythology and such ... sorry it's a long story, I'll cut it short. She called me sparrow boy. So now I use it as my name. Some people have taken to calling me "Jack Sparrow" because of the pirate thing — I think they think it sounds cool. But now, just 'Sparrow' is fine ..." God, I was prattling on and on, why couldn't I just shut up? She was sparkling her little smile at me and nearly laughing at my wittering.

"Well, it's nice to meet you sparrow. Is this your bottle of champagne? Did you ...?"

"Yes." I swallowed. "I saw you from across the dance floor and had to buy you a drink."

She was amazing. So different from any other woman I'd come across. She looked at me from under her lashes, she grinned at me, she crinkled her nose as she smiled at me and laughed at my silly jokes. I wanted this conversation to go on forever ...

"I was thinking of going home and calling it a night until I saw you looking at me, sparrow. Do you know that?"

"Oh God, tell me about it, you wouldn't believe it but I've spent 15 minutes in the loo already tonight trying to avoid a couple of drunken revellers! It's not a brilliant night for me either ... until I saw that you'd taken my offer of a glass of champagne that is."

"I'm flattered sparrow. Why did you hide in the loo!"

"Oh, dear lord, I got chatting by accident to two girls who'd had far too much to drink and one of them, I'm embarrassed to say, actually molested me. She grabbed my penis. Well, I'm afraid to say I didn't take kindly to that so I went and took cover!"

All the time I was talking and listening to this gorgeous girl, I was having the most trouble not openly staring at her ravishing beauty. And I fancied I wasn't doing that good a job. I stared at the necklace chain as it disappeared down her cleavage and couldn't help wanting to find out where it went.

"So, what do I do? Well, I'm a management consultant. It's terribly boring really but it pays the bills."

"I don't need to ask what you do, Faye, because I've seen you perform." I referred to her singing gig at the cock and hen.

I wondered if she'd remember me from that night or whether the big guy she was with would be uppermost in her mind. She didn't appear to, instead she asked me if liked singing.

"Yes, I am a bit of an amateur singer, Faye. I love it!"

I watched Faye wriggling on the seat next to me and enjoyed seeing her dress ride higher and higher, although I tried to make sure she didn't notice my subtle glances at her almost fully exposed crotch. God, what would I have given for a chance to get down there and have a real close encounter with her womanhood ...

My cock was literally straining to get out of my pants.

All of a sudden her bag dropped on the floor as she wriggled again.
"Faye, let me get that for you," I offered. And I was half out of my chair ...

After an obviously too long bag-rescue, I clambered back into my seat and could think of nothing else but the wonderful view I'd just had of Faye's marvellous bare legs and, even better, up her skirt. I'd managed to get my stupid hand in the way of her stiletto heel and she had accidentally stepped on it without realising. I think if it had been any other girl ... I might have made a scene, or at least protested, but this perfect, perfect girl would NEVER do wrong in my eyes. She actually tried to apologise for hurting my hand, what a lovely mistress she'd make.

Mistress? Oh God. I'd just made a massive admission to myself and I blushed. Could she be the one? No. Don't forget what I was told. Women don't really like 'men' like that ...

Faye was looking almost directly at my cock. It was so hard now, I doubt I'd be able to get up even if I was inclined to do so. I looked at her eyes and she held them for a second before staring at my hardon again. I wondered if she were sizing me up ... comparing me to other lovers ... It was fairly apparent what I had to offer right now, as my trousers were so tight, I might as well have been naked. Did it look okay, not the wrong angle, not too straight, not too short ...

Oh god she was making me wet, I could feel the precum oozing from my swollen head ... as she continued to look

"So, sparrow," Faye started. As the words came from her mouth she leant towards me, her eyes levelled on mine. "How come you're single? I mean, attractive boy like you ...?"

I did a sort of double take inwardly at her words. Did she just call me a boy, or was that my imagination? Or did she and was I just reading too much into it? I looked at her and she shuffled a little closer to me on the long bench seat of the booth. As she did so, her dress rode a little further up her milky white thighs. I couldn't resist having another look at them. They were toned and muscular but in such a shapely feminine way. She obviously cared for her skin, as it positively glowed. I could appreciate the shimmer that she must have applied to her legs for the evening — it looked stunning. Correction, 'she' looked stunning.

"Well, I don't really know, to be honest," I replied truthfully. "It must be like anybody who's single — just haven't found the right girl." I risked another look down and was rewarded by her moving her legs ever so slightly further apart. She must have noticed because she gave a sharp intake of breath and shuffled up another inch on the seat towards me, effectively closing her legs shut as she did. I could not take my eyes away for very long though and glanced down again. The dress was almost up to her lap now and I had a fine view of her beautiful amazonian thighs. And ... well, I must have imagined it, but even so I quickly glanced away ... I think I saw the faint outline of her pubic triangle.

"Come on, you'll have to do better than that," she continued. "What does "the right girl" mean?"

I looked down at Faye's crotch again. For a split second, I thought I saw something sparkle down there ... I looked up at her face again, gulping for air. My erection was becoming even more full if that were possible. "Are you okay sparrow?" She asked, moving closer still. "Only you look a little flushed ..." She put her hand on my thigh gently and patted me as if to calm me down. She left it there and twisted herself round so she was facing me like she might a close girlfriend whom she was in deep girly conspiracy with, her head bowed and mouth close to my ear. "What sort of girl do you want ...? Tell me?" She smiled at me as I gulped again and tried to stop my head from swimming.

"I've just never heard bells and seen stars, that's all." I answered. As I spoke though, I felt her hand slip imperceptibly up my thigh. Her right forefinger was now actually resting on my secret erection. My mind screamed at me. Could she feel it? God, how could she not have spotted it? I looked at her for a sign, a clue that she was playing with me. There was nothing. Her face was its usual lovely, angelic and beautiful innocence. She clearly couldn't know what her finger was resting gently on. But then my thought was that she might be subtly checking me out. Confirming by touch what she already couldn't have failed to spot as soon as she dropped her bag - sizing me up. Evaluating me. I concentrated on what I was supposed to be saying and tried to give some subtle clues of my own in terms of my answer to her question. "The girls I usually find I go out with always turn out to be ... well, pushovers ... not, erm, strong enough, if you like." I definitely felt her finger move at that point. She definitely had stroked the head of my cock with her forefinger. Or had she? Her face gave me no clues again. I think I must have given out a little groan at that point, but I tried to cover it up by clearing my throat.

I was now concerned with my growing wet patch, which her forefinger must surely now be well and truly resting in. I couldn't believe I was sitting having this conversation with the most achingly gorgeous girl and whose finger was on the head of my cock and she simply smiled at me ...

"Are you saying you'd prefer a 'stronger' woman, sparrow, is that it? I just want to make sure I understand what you're saying ..." She trailed off questioningly, her eyes now searching my face for further clues. She went further, I'm paraphrasing now but to the effect of, "Do you want thoroughly controlling but still have the occasional snatches of being a regular sexually dominant man? Would you like to be sexually used, degraded and made to do dirty things ...?" She looked almost frightened to death at what she'd just said.

I looked at Faye, directly in the eye.

I realised that she'd gone out on a limb asking me a direct question like that. So I stealed myself and tried to quiet the nerves in my stomach.

"Yes, Faye. That's what I want." I said. "I want to be controlled. To know I belong to a woman. I'm hers totally. Even if I'm playing the dominant role at any time. I want to be totally degraded by her. To know no pride when I'm around her. To let her do anything she wants to me." I finished and carried on looking at her ...

I wanted to kiss her right now. But I wanted to experience the control she obviously expected to have over me. I wanted to wait for permission. I wanted her to let me know that I could lean in and kiss her. Touch her. Breathe her in ...

Faye had now taken quite a firm grip of the head of my cock between her thumb and forefinger and she was rhythmically squeezing, as she looked at me and registered my answer. Each pinch was harder than the next. She said nothing. She gazed longingly at me though.

I replayed my admission to her over in my head, wondering if I'd gone far enough. Had I given her the impression, as I wanted to, that I wanted it to be her. Faye. The woman who, although I'd only just met, now owned me and who from now on would effectively control my life ...

She carried on looking at me. God I wanted to kiss her so badly. She knew it too. She licked her lips tantalisingly and kept her chin angled toward me alluringly. Yet she knew that I wouldn't just lean in and kiss her now. There had been an unspoken agreement between us in those few minutes. Those lips were indeed mine to kiss from now on ... but on her terms. When 'she' wanted. That was what it was all about for me now. Her.

She took my hand and pulled it gently to her lap. And my trembling hand touched her pussy. Her warm, soft, soaking pussy. God she was so wet. I didn't realise that as hard as I was she must be getting just as turned on by our encounter. As I felt her wetness I looked at her with round eyes of shock and delight.

It was then she finally spoke. "This is your first job. Clean me up down there, and make it good boy - to my satisfaction ..."

I thought I must have met an angel.

So my new life began now. My life devoted to the service of the most beautiful woman in the world. I took a moment to register exactly what Faye had told me to do. Her attention was now on Sonia. In fact, she looked as if she were ignoring me completely now. I started to have doubts. Was she losing interest? Or was it a test of some sort? She laughed at something Sonia had said, as the girl was pointing over to another part of the club. As I watched her though, my hand still on her pussy, I felt her legs open wide. She was inviting me, no she was expecting me to lick her, there and then.

I decided that this was what I wanted. I knew I only wanted to please her. So ...

... I slipped off the seat and dropped below the table. I was now down on the filthy carpet with the crisps, peanuts and spilled drinks. Me. The guy who'd walked in here and paid a hundred for a bottle of champagne and barely touched a drop of it, I was now on the floor.

But this was where I wanted to be most in the world. And where I would stay until my new Mistress gave me permission to get up. And for 'that' to happen I new I had a job to do.

I leaned close to Faye's open thighs and deliberately breathed over her sex. Warm, soft breath flowing over her. I absolutely relished what I was about to do. I could almost taste my prize before my lips made contact.

I looked close up at her pussy. At what I hoped would come to be 'my' pussy ...

I noticed her pouting lips of the softest folding flesh and above it her public triangle, which I could see decorated with a tattooed pattern. I marvelled at its intricacy. And there at the apex of her folded puffy lips was the jewel of her sex.

I'd expected to see or to have to find her clit under its hood but instead I was rewarded with a magnificent sight. Her clit was actually being held proud by a sparkly clip. Proud of its hood and firmly clamped in place and attached to a chain which I realised ran up her dress and up to her neck.

I breathed again over her sex.

I slowly, deliberately lowered my face to her pussy. Her magnificent pussy which I would worship from this moment on. It being a symbol of her womanhood and 'the' symbol of her superiority over me.

I now had no thought about what was going on above the table. I had no concern as to what the other people were doing. I did not dare think of what Faye was doing. That was now none of my business as I'd been given a command. I was a servant. I was here to serve this pussy. 'She' was all that mattered to me now.

I touched my tongue to Faye's soft flesh and took my first delicious taste ...

The End. Well, the beginning actually.

how   met   her  

Jun 19, 2018 in femdom

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