AKA the cunning linguist; AKA el lingüista astuto; AKA Thomas the Tongue Engine; AKA le linguiste adroit; AKA il linguista abile; AKA the cunning linguist; AKA el lingüista astuto; AKA Thomas the Tongue Engine; AKA le linguiste adroit; AKA il linguista abile;

Monday, 22 August 2011

"Eleven"


It was my wedding anniversary last week and I really needed a ‘pick-me-up’, so I planned on visiting my favourite ‘dining’ establishment for some pussy-sandwich for lunch.

With so many ‘favourites’ at this establishment (I can hardly call them ‘regulars’ any more), I don’t bother ringing to book first but just see who is on duty and available when I arrive - this way I generally get to see most of my favourites at least once every 5-6 months.  So on this visit, ‘C’ & ‘J’ were in bookings, so I booked ‘V’.

Now ‘V’ has always been quite passionate and she had me in a clinch with her tongue down my throat and feeling my offering as soon as we got to the room, well before I showered and she left to ‘start the clock’.

By the time ‘V’ returned and the clock had started, I had freshened up and was reclining in one of those arm-chairs like an up-turned open hand.  ‘V’ placed a towel on the floor and dropped to her knees for the traditional establishment welcome.  Between more deep-throating, lots of hands over bodies and fumbling to remove her clothes, I got her standing and dropped to my knees to return the welcome.  In no time flat, she was pulling my face into her crotch and was already shuddering.

I lowered her to the bed and commenced my ‘lunch’. The taste of ‘V’s snatch brings memories flooding back and she seems more orgasmic than ever today.

It must have been 20 minutes before I need to come up and give her sensitive bits a rest.  She apologises for her perspiry face and body as we snuggle into each other’s arms.  Her deep throated kissing resumes then I kiss around her neck, ear-lobes and shoulders.  I kiss my way down across her small breasts to her large nipples.   OMG - her nipples  must be wired directly to her clit for she explodes into orgasm again.  Our writhing bodies are entwined now and all sense of proprietary and decorum are out the window and we have a veeeery ‘happy ending’, just as the buzzer sounds.

Thank goodness I booked a longer session - a traditonal half hour wouldn’t have been enough!

With a sigh and big grin, ‘V’ wipes the perspiration from her brow before cleaning up.  As we shower and redress, we ignore the second buzzer, and chat about life, our coming and goings and catch up about old ‘friends’.

As ‘V’ shows me out the door, she has her tongue down my throat again and gives me an encouraging departing squeeze - the receptionist ignores us.  I have a couple of minutes walk back to my car to catch my breath and cool down before heading back to the office (ho hum)!

That was an 11 (out of 10) on the Sir Thomas ‘fuchter’ scale - there’s probably a law about punts this good!

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