Not the Intention
Copyright© 2022 by Desiderius Lustig
Chapter 2: Diane
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 2: Diane - Desi -my old-man's self- in his far-away-house takes up a friend of his niece when she needs a secret hideaway. The build-up of sexual tension between old man and visitor begins to show. Indeed not the intention?
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/Ma Mult Consensual Romantic Gay BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Incest Group Sex Orgy Interracial Black Female Anal Sex Double Penetration Lactation Pregnancy 2nd POV Nudism Slow
Travel unobtrusive, I had said. Diane with a red suitcase in a signal red, tight fitting and too short dress, which only accentuates her dark body, is a beacon on the drab platform when I wait for her train to arrive. Even my chaste bisous get envious glances from the men around me, who quickly walk on with a visible tent, contracted on the train, I just imagine.
“Hungry or hungry?” I ask, stopping for a sandwicherie. “Tuna, raw ham, garlic-stiff salami? Or are you a vega-vagi?”
“No, I like meat in my vagi” she laughs, stroking her mound “do that dry sausage. And tuna.” I return with two half-baguettes, – called sandwich here – and steaming coffee.
Outside the city, driving in my 4×4 through the narrow, deep valleys, winding and rocky, I stop at a nice little parking lot. We get out and sit on the bench to eat. I break the sandwiches in two and we eat silently and sip our coffees in a green and bird-tweeting bubble...
I stare unabashedly at her bosom, how thick crust crumbs fall on her brown-black breasts and into her cleavage. In the corner of my eye, I see a squirrel on a branch peering with me. I whisper “don’t move. Squirrel in the tree to your left. Must be a male, looks just as horny at those crumbs on your tits as I do.”
She turns her eyes to the left and smiles. “Would he dare jump on my shoulders and grope me with those little grasping hands until all the crumbs are gone and search around in my décolleté some more?”
“Oh yes, and if not, I would. But I have cold fingers and from those in your little valley, you get stiff nipples and we should not have that, so without bra. Is that actually called ‘command’ for girls?”
She bursts out laughing and the squirrel jumps away, no doubt with a stiffie. She grabs my left hand and feels my fingers, one by one from bottom to top. “Soft they are and long” she says dreamily, her nipples now poking into the red fabric of her dress. When she lets go of me, I casually skim along them with the back of my fingers. She gives me a quick look of “fuck me now!” and then it’s back to normal between us.
As she strokes my bare forearm, she says “You’re going to hide me well, I think. And it’s beautiful here!”
“Rugged, especially, I warn you, rural and no nightlife. Restaurants are only open around noon and no way clubbing. You’re stuck with a guy three times your age.”
“Aaaach, kinda safe right? Just my grandpa ... His hands always strayed to forbidden places when he hugged me. But otherwise harmless.”
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