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I thought I should tell you about a most interesting morning I have just experienced whilst the emotions and feelings are still fresh in my mind.

As some of you may know I work in Mayfair in the marketing department of a media company. I am in my early 30’s and have a certain attraction for those that like a highly feminine “stylised look”. Over the years I have become increasingly fascinated — even addicted to — beauty treatments. I readily admit that this might be as a result of some deep seated insecurities or trauma. Or the fact that as far as looks are concerned I am reasonably shallow.

As a daddy’s girl I was treated as a princess. And of course one of the princesses that everyone wanted to be was Barbie. I am that Barbie girl. I worked hard in the gym and with my diet to ensure I made the best of my natural attributes — long shapely legs, a nice firm bum and a tiny waist. My boobs were not of the required Barbie standard so these have been surgically enhanced. My face has been filled with Botox so it is porcelain smooth, my lips plumped and my eyebrows tattooed. My eyes are piercing blue and eyelashes long. My hair is long, of course.

The overall look is highly dramatic — like a real life doll. I definitely do not have a natural or “girl next door” look. I am not even like a catwalk fashion model. I am, as I say, a stylised idea of how a man would design a woman. Baby faced and innocent, curves in all the right places, long tumbling hair and sensual lips with doll eyes.

As a result I get a lot of looks. No that sound arrogant. As a result I get a lot of people staring. Women and girls who say / think “who does she think she is” and guys that think that just because I look like a Barbie doll I am game for sex and so are uncharacteristically lewd with me as a result. I don’t help with that image, I will readily admit, as I am fond of tight fitting clothes that exaggerate my curves and assets purchased at great cost from cosmetic surgeons and also of high heels that make me even taller and imposing.

However, I am a human being. I have feelings and emotions and am actually sensitive to what people think of me. I may come across as an unfeeling bitch but the arrogance you see is actually defensive. In fact, the whole look, the obsession with beauty and addiction to beauty treatments is probably one whole defensive act. I probably just need some old fashioned unrequited desire!

Anyway. Because I work in the media world there is considerable latitude in dress code. Which means I can resort to type and be a Barbie girl. Which may be OK in the streets and cocktail bars of Mayfair but not so acceptable in the leafy suburbs where I have to travel into work from.

Today in London in early September it is overcast, drizzly, but a little humid. It’s hard to get the right balance — it’s probably a little on the chill side, particularly in the evening, for a summer dress, but too warm for trouser suits, coats and whatnot.

So I chose a pair of black thin leggings worn under knee length high heeled boots, a white wrap t shirt to show off my ample bosom and crop style leather jacket for a fashion statement rather than some weather protection. My makeup was on point. Smoky eyeshadow and deep gloss pink lipstick, some bronze to accentuate my cheekbones even more and hair pulled back in a pony-tail. I was hot to trot.

I live about 40 minutes away from Central London requiring a tortuous journey by tube train, stopping at every station as people push on and push off. Needless to say, its rush hour, with us all packed in like sardines. It’s most unpleasant. Added to which I had the usual gawping at me. My only solution was to escape into my own world and turn up my headphones to listen to music — some deep house rhythms that I love to dance too.

I was interrupted by a tap on my arm and the embarrassed face of young man. His lanyard ID badge was from Westminster University – obviously a typical student studying applied mathematics or advanced physics. Whatever.

He tapped me again and mumbled. I put on my best pissed off face, took out my headphone buds and drawled in my most insincere Chelsea accent:

“What is it babe?”

“I do apologise. You are very beautiful and all that and I couldn’t help it. Sorry. Sorry.” he mumbled.

“What?” I said.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” he said as he pushed back into the crowd around us, creating for a brief second clear space between us before the train jolted and everyone pressed forward and he was pushed back into me even closer than before.

It was then that I realised what he was all embarrassed about. His pants were bulging with his erection that he was desperately trying his hardest to turn away from touching me. I turned and shot him a look of sheer disgust, and turned away trying to edge myself down the train as his face turned pink with embarrassment.

Anyone that knows that trying to manoeuvre in a crowded rush hour train is tough at best and nigh impossible in high atakent escort heels and with the movement of the train I stumbled and fell back into the poor young man who grabbed and steadied me for a second before letting go in sheer terror as I settled into a new position with his hard cock pressed against my bum. I could feel how hard he was between the thin material of my leggings and his attempts to move away from him had the result that he simply kept moving back and forth rubbing his cock against me whilst, if that was possible, his erection got even harder.

I turned my head and looked at him and snapped:

“Look, just stop moving”.

The guy stumbled, put a hand on my waist to steady himself and stood motionless. I could tell from the tenseness of his body that he was concentrating on trying not to move or make the situation even worse.

As the train rattled along I smiled to myself as I began to see the funny side of the poor adolescent’s predicament. He was clearly a shy, nervous type and deeply embarrassed at getting excited and didn’t mean any harm. In fact I should be flattered I guess.

Every now and again I could feel his hard cock press into my bum. The embarrassment was clearly not affecting his ardour. He also tightened and loosened his fingers on my hip as he continued to steady himself but as I reached up to grab a rail to stop wobbling more my t shirt raised up exposing the skin at my waist. The second his fingers touched my bare flesh he pulled them away as if he had an electric shock but had no choice but to put his hand back to steady himself.

I swear his cock twitched against my bum at that moment.

I turned my head again towards him and he leant in to hear me.

“Can’t you think of your granny or something” I whispered.

“I’m trying everything from reciting equations in my head to trying to think of the titles of all Shakespeare’s plays, but, for Christ’s sake, I am standing next to Barbie and I can’t fucking control myself. Sorry for swearing”.

“What do you mean Barbie? Why should that excite you?”

“I have two older sisters and they had so many Barbie dolls. I used to play with them when I was younger dressing them up in clothes I wanted them to wear. I saw you getting on the train and thought I was in a dream. I didn’t think I would get so close I just wanted to look. You are perfect. I think I fell in love with those dolls!”

I thought that was kind of sweet and for what reason I am still trying to really understand I wiggled my bum against him feeling his adoring cock firm against me. I guess it was my way of acknowledging his honesty. His fingers responded to my bum tease as he moved his hand toward the front of my waist tracing nervous little circles on the bare skin. Oh dear, the situations I get myself into. I know what you are going to say — I ask for it. Many think the same way.

The train pulled into West Kensington — by my calculation there were 5 stops to Westminster. About 20 minutes to endure the journey. The movement of people on the train created some space between us, allowing the opportunity to uncouple and find his own space on the train. He clung to his position, obviously anxious that his moment with his Barbie doll was soon to be over, and desperate to keep his contact.

The train started off again and I looked at him. There was one shelf seat available at the rear of the carriage on the opposite side to where the carriage door opened so I moved towards the seat passing the boy as I did so, his eyes following me wistfully like a soppy puppy. And, because I’m at heart a soppy soul too, I grabbed his hand in mine as I passed and dragged him with me. The seat was no more than a shelf to lean against but at least the wall of the carriage gave some support and I leaned against it, with my legs slightly apart, allowing the soppy boy to position himself between my legs before the carriage filled up again and we were hemmed into the corner.

“Still excited I see”, I said, with a faint smile on my lips.

“Yes, sorry.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend or anything to help with that”, I asked.

“Yeah we have girls at Uni but I don’t bother with them. They don’t interest me.”

The train lurched and he fell against me. He didn’t move back when the train settled back smoothly on the rails.

“Why?” I asked. “Surely there are lots of pretty girls your age at Uni. How old are you by the way.”

“I’m 20. And there are no girls that interest me. Or boys before you ask. There is no one that looks like Barbie. Like you. There is no one wonderful like you”.

I smiled and emboldened he pushed against me, and began to make little thrusts with his pelvis, rubbing his erection against me. Involuntarily I began to respond sexually, the blood flowing to my pussy lips so I could begin to feel them open and expose a little bit of my clitoris as my own little “penis” became aroused. I smiled to myself at the familiar process my body ataköy escort knew so well.

He was standing above me and was looking at me thoughtfully.

“I don’t know whether to look at your face and your eyes or your breasts,” he said. “They are magnificent”.

The train was very busy now so I put my arm around his waist and opened my legs as far as I could in the crowded train and pulled him close to me, beginning to move my own pelvis up and down his hard shaft as he wiggled his hips against mine. I could feel his arms circle around my waist and his hand begin a tentative wander up the inside of my t shirt, the hairs on my naked back raising with anticipation as his touched me lightly.

I could feel his breath on my neck as he manoeuvred himself against me in the crowded train. I cast my eyes around the carriage. Everyone was oblivious to what was happening in the corner, either staring blankly into space, absorbed by a book or a paper, or lost in music.

The tube pulled out of South Kensington. Three stops to Westminster. The blood was flowing now and my nipples were also becoming sensitive. Since the enlargement my boobs had lost a lot of sensation until I am aroused, but after a certain point of arousal my nipples became on fire. They were on fire now. I was becoming as horny as a 20 year old.

I reached down between his legs running my fingers teasingly against his cock, before undoing the button at the top of his trousers and then sliding down the zip. I slipped my hand into his pants and circled my fingers around his cock. He was smooth and the foreskin on his cock was pulled back, so his head was wet with excitement. I rubbed my thumb over his sensitive head, hearing an almost inaudible murmur in my ear as his lips brushed against my neck. I removed my hand and let him back between my legs, his exposed cock feeling firmer against my leggings, allowing him to rub himself against me and enjoy the moment.

He moved slowly and deliberately as savouring the moment. I must confess it felt nice, in a sisterly kind of way. Is that wrong?

Then, before you knew it, the doors opened at Victoria — one short stop. I kissed my companion on his cheek and tucked his throbbing cock back in his pants.

“You need to tidy yourself up babe, our stop is next”.

We got off the train together and I walked briskly to the exit. I turned to say goodbye and he was there, in my space.

“Yes?” I said.

“Erm Barbie, or whatever your name is, can we go somewhere. I am early and I have 30 minutes before I need to be at lecture. We could get a coffee, or……”

“Or?”

“Um, er, we could go to, er, a place I know and, um, talk or whatever?”

“Whatever?”

“Yeah, Barbie stuff. What I used to do when I was young. Play with Barbie.”

“I must be mad, but OK”.

“What coffee? Or……”

“Yes….the ‘or’. Do we need to get a cab?”

“No it’s just through here. It’s right in the middle of London, but quiet. No one goes there, or probably even knows it’s there. But I found it.”

Five minutes later he took me into a churchyard.

“Through here,” he said. “This is St Margaret’s Church. We need to go through the door at the back and it takes you into a Walled Courtyard. Come on. No one ever comes here and the Priest can’t get to the Courtyard because he is in a wheelchair so we are perfectly safe”.

The courtyard was lovely. The brickwork was ancient London and the trees and shrubs climbed up the walls, the pot plants overflowing with a mixture of wild flowers and weeds. The sun was breaking through the grey skies and shafts of light filtered into the garden. Beyond the walls the hub bub of London continued unabated.

“Well, well. It’s rather beautiful here.”

“Not as beautiful as you. You make my old Barbie dolls look unattractive.”

I turned to face him and he was standing looking at me. He had laid his jacket over a fallen stone and his trousers and pants were down by his ankles, his smooth glistening cock sticking out with the excitement of youth. He shuffled a few steps towards me, nearly tripping up.

“Not very cool is that,” I said. “You are better off just taking them off. Then you can tell me what you used to do to Barbie”.

“Well, I used to like dressing Barbie up in short dresses and high heels. Then I made up a scenario and pretend conversation where I asked Barbie to take off her dress and stand there naked so she could watch me wank.”

“Is that what you want to do now? Watch me take my clothes off and wank?”

“Yes. And no. I liked it when you touched me. More than when I touch myself. But I do want to see you without clothes on. I do want to see your boobs. I used to kiss Barbie on her boobs and on her belly”.

“Do you want to take my clothes off? And what do I call you.”

“Oh. I’m Sebastian but everyone calls me Seb. I do want to take your top off please and think I can do that. But not your pants. My heart is atalar escort pounding far too much for that and my mouth is dry”.

I slipped off my leather jacket and walked towards him. I took his face between my hands and leant down to kiss, my soft plump lips opening around his tongue as he breathlessly and urgently shoved his tongue into my mouth. I pulled away.

“Slowly. Just relax. Close your eyes and let your feelings take you. Lie down on the stone.”

As he lay back I undid the buttons on his shirt and pulled it apart. He had a decent enough body.

“Not bad” I said as I traced my fingernails over his chest. “I’m guessing you play some sport?”

“I do tennis and squash and some running. Oh and sailing.”

I leant down and unzipped both of my boots, kicking them off then peeling off my leggings, watching his face all the time as his hands went out of habit down to his cock and he started to caress himself. Then I sat astride him on the stone bed and leant down to kiss him, teasing his lips at first before parting them to let him try with his tongue again. He slipped it in slowly and began to run his hands over my bum and the small of my back as we kissed. I could sense him relax and grow in confidence as he explored my mouth with his tongue. I pushed back against his tongue and deep French kissed him forcefully and he dug his nails into my back as I did and pulled at my t shirt. He broke away from the kiss.

“Yes. Yes.” he said. “Yes”. He reached down to the bottom of my t shirt and pulled it up over my head and then behind to my bra strap and unclipped that, slipping it over my shoulders.

“Neatly done,” I smiled. He reached up and began to caress my breasts and as he did so I put my hands over his, guiding him as to how to touch my breasts and tease my nipple until it became super sensitive and I began to moan with involuntary pleasure and simultaneously rock my increasingly swollen pussy lips up and down his cock shaft.

I reached down, pulling my g string aside, then slipped his cock into me.

“Ooooh. You have nothing to worry about your cock babes. It’s a lovely size.”

I grabbed his hands and guided them to my breasts again helping him caress and squeeze my nipples as I gyrated on him.

“Don’t cum babes I have a little O coming.”

“I don’t know if I can help myself”

“You want your Barbie to cum don’t you”

“Yes, but……”

At that I lifted myself off him and lay down.

“Time for you to taste me then babes. Make me cum with your tongue and then you can put him in me again. Would you like that?”

He looked unsure.

“I don’t bite, you know! And don’t worry I’ll guide you. Come here and cuddle me. Caress my body. That’s right baby. You know how to touch a woman. Must be all that practice with your Barbie dolls. Mmmmm that’s nice where your hands are now. Go on, tease my pussy lips and find my clittie and run your…… Oooh, that’s nice, yes babes. Keep doing that. Oh my god.”

As he began to finger fuck me he started to kiss my mouth. His lips gently pressing on mine, nibbling a little on my lower lip. Savouring the softness before flicking his tongue one more into my mouth, increasingly self-assured. I gripped his wrist and moaned as a little wave of orgasm broke. Just a gentle one, a little step in the process but a necessary one.

He sensed the orgasm and asked if I was OK.

“Yes, babe. That was nice. Did you feel me cum?”

“I felt your breath shorten and a grip on my fingers when they were inside you and you’re a little wetter. Is that what’s supposed to happen?”

I didn’t answer but wrapped my fingers in his hair and dragged his head down my body. He lingered for a while on my tummy, kissing the soft skin and pushing his teeth down hard until he felt my muscle tone and then he was there.

His mouth was at me greedily. My juices were on his face as he buried deep, tongue flicking here there and everywhere, with little technique nor purpose but with unbridled lust and enthusiasm. And with my hands gripping his curly hair tight I wrapped my legs over his shoulders and helped his tongue bury deep into me, his bared teeth stimulating my clitoris until I exploded into Orgasm.

“Oh babe, babe, I have cum. Fuck me now”.

And so he was on me, his lips on mine, my taste on his lips and face, sweet and sticky, his cock pounding away into me until sweat broke out on his forehead. At last he gritted his teeth and released his load, three full spurts of warm juice. And all the time he was thrusting into me the contractions came again and again until I was sated.

“Wow, babes. Where did that come from?” I asked.

“Practice. Years of Practice on Barbie”. He was grinning from ear to ear.

The shyness then returned and he bumbled about. He offered an embarrassed goodbye and wandered back through the church.

“Hey”, I called catching up with him. “Hey. Wait up. Look I’m on that same train often. If you see a Barbie girl again you know now what they like. Just come up. Don’t bother saying anything. Just start fondling Barbie as discretely as you can and bring her here. She’ll love it. There are lots of Barbie’s out there. I’m not the only one.”

He smiled sheepishly.

“But you’re the best Barbie, by far.”

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