Hardly an outsider can understand the needs of a person isolated from the outside world, especially a man. When someone is in the prime of becoming human, and then every opportunity is taken away from them to balance their overflowing hormones, they are always on the verge of literally bursting. The ladies then have every opportunity to do as they please with a male being controlled to the hair-tips by testosterone. I have always admired candidates for the clergy above all. You must have an ability that totally neutralizes any form of hormonal control. Generations of housekeepers can surely attest to that...
But I digress. I am extremely fortunate that the awakening and outgrowth of my hormonal balance coincided with my time in England meeting Debby and her mother. Both, mother and daughter, had found in me the perfect balance for THEIR deficiency symptoms. I was – and mostly still am – always in good shape thanks to my physical fitness, but the training camps always hurt me, too. That's why the trainers in professional football used to make sure that their protégés always stayed together and bed rest during the pre-season or at tournaments like the shooting dogs - without women accompanying them! – was scrupulously complied with.
My team had completely screwed up the round of points that year and only narrowly escaped relegation. As a "reward", our trainer booked our training camp for preparation not in the sunny south, as usual, but in the Scottish Highlands; the scenery is actually beautiful, but still mostly deserted and the weather is horrible. Our daily routine always included at least one long-distance run through the hilly area, and one would think that such exertion would push all "sinful" thoughts out of the mind. But far from it! By the second or third day at the latest, one has adjusted to the stress and becomes aware of the sexual withdrawal again, so that some of the boys often made the characteristic sign of the "curved hand",
We stayed in a former British Army garrison building and even had our own room. When we came from training and went to eat after the shower, we entered the dining room via a long corridor. We rarely saw the kitchen staff, they were also male.
At least that's what we thought, but it never occurred to us that the female part was being kept hidden from us. I discovered this by accident one day when I was about to be late for breakfast and bumped into someone while cutting the path near the kitchen. We both fell to the ground, and when I tried to get up, someone cursed and scolded me in a language I didn't recognize. Completely taken aback, I looked at the clamoring something that was standing in front of me and was floored: A petite, maybe 20-year-old Asian woman was trying to smooth down her clothes and collect the kitchen waste that had been scattered halfway down the hallway as a result of the collision . Long black hair knotted at the nape of the neck; a face like in a fairy tale and almond-shaped eyes, from which the embers of the Far East glared at me. Her gaze seemed to pierce me at first, and when I stuttered an apology, her features relaxed a little, and she even helped me up. I was almost two heads taller than her, and a little embarrassed, I let her look me up and down. Especially the middle of my body drew her attention, because my training pants formed a middle camp because of the unexpected encounter with fair femininity. A mysterious smile played around her lips, she looked around briefly and pulled a piece of paper out of her apron pocket to scribble something on it. Then she gave me the note and disappeared back into the kitchen. I put the paper in my pocket and made my way to breakfast. The whole crew looked at me questioningly,
"The chef dropped the trash can!" I said, digging into my toast.
The training was rock hard, and this time the coach had his sights set on me. He let me go through a special kind of goalkeeper training, so that I was afraid that I wouldn't see the evening again. Fortunately, bed rest was announced until noon, so that I could rest after the shower. I remembered the morning's event and pulled the note from my pocket. It read in clumsy handwriting: "Chief of Kitchen, tonight after 10".
So tonight after 10 I was supposed to come to the chef's office. Easier said than done, because around this time the coach made his rounds to make sure we were all in bed. Let's see.
Sleep was out of the question, and I had a lapse during training that afternoon. Lost in free-kick practice and not seeing a ball coming, I was completely absorbed in my Asian beauty. With the result that I got the ball right in the face and collapsed. Our team doctor took care of me, put a pad on my nose and said to the coach: "Nothing broken, but he's done for today. Off to bed!”
I cheered on the inside despite the pain because that meant the coach wouldn't be checking my room tonight. I was still having dinner and trying to look as pained as possible when I passed the coach.
After that, the time passed painfully slowly until it was finally 10 o'clock. I opened the door to my room and cautiously peeked out into the hallway. The coast was clear and I slipped out, quickly following the shortcut to the kitchen. The door to the chef's office was ajar, a reading light was on, but there was no one in the room. Then the door slammed behind me, I turned around, and she stood in front of me with a mysterious smile. She hesitated when she saw my face, but I waved him off. "Not so bad!" and walked towards her. She put her arms around my neck and pulled me down to her. "I like you," she whispered, and carefully kissed my lips for the first time, which were still swollen. Then she gently pushed her tongue into my mouth and expertly twirled it between my teeth. It caused a tremendous turmoil in my sweatpants that was not lost on my blazing-eyed temptation. Tenderly she put her hand on the mighty mound and whispered: "How long have you been on withdrawal?" - "Much too long!" I answered and pulled her to the seating area that was in the office. She pushed me onto a sprawling chair and quickly stripped off my sweatpants and panties. My wand stood like Big Ben and she knelt between my legs, cupping the shaft in her small hands. The tip of her tongue tapped carefully on the drop of joy just protruding from the tip and distributed it on the glans, which she had freed from the foreskin with a gentle but firm pull. She let her tongue slide further down the shaft, gently rubbing the sting with both hands at the same time. I didn't move for fear of being early; what she did to me was absolutely fantastic. She realized that she couldn't take too much from me and stripped off her kitchen clothes. Under her apron she wore nothing but panties, which barely covered her dense, dark bush and which she also took off. Her breasts were small and firm, a boyishly slender body floated towards me and sat on my erect erect stand. That is, she had to lift one leg a little to be able to place the tip precisely, then she lowered herself very slowly. I held my breath and whistled it out again when Miko (that was her name) had completely swallowed my joy giver. She must have gotten herself in the right mood, because my dick slipped into her grotto without any problem. Now she put her feet to the left and right of me on the edge of the seat and, her hands clasped behind my neck, began a ride that was more reminiscent of a gymnastics exercise. Her vaginal muscles gripped my prick and slowly but surely made my cream boil over. I warned her, so she jumped down and knelt in front of me again. She grabbed my cock and massaged it vigorously, pointing the tip at her chest. The magma in my volcano erupted and I reared up, groaning almost in pain as my juice splattered her small breasts, neck, and face. She slipped the collapsing wand into her delicate mouth and blew it to her heart's content. She sucked out the ends of my streak, licked the stalk nice and clean and in a short while had it back in great shape. But I wanted to take revenge a bit and got up. She sat on the couch, her legs bent and spread wide. Normally her clam would certainly have been almost covered by her thick bushes, but her labia were swollen and her insides gaped and glistened before me. I knelt down in front of it and sank my tongue into the wetland, which elicited a small cry of pleasure that turned into a savored "Hmmmmaaahh..". She took my head in her hands and pushed it deeper into her crotch, as I let the tip of my tongue circle around her pearl. I slipped two more fingers into her cleft and felt the walls of her vagina tighten as she reared up with a choked scream. Her juices trickled down her butt crack and dripped onto the carpet, and she came again with a long sigh. As I straightened up, I put the backs of her knees in the crooks of my arms and simply picked up this cute flea. She squeaked in surprise at first, then wrapped her hands around my neck and immediately sealed my mouth with a sophisticated French kiss. Without further ado, I let her fall onto my steeply erect stand, which was aimed precisely at her center and retracted with a smacking sound. I rocked her across the office and sat her on the desk. Then I started with powerful thrusts, and she acknowledged each one with an ever-higher beep. My balls slapped in time against her rosette and I felt them contract again, and with one last hard push I discharged myself inside her. When she felt my hot cream inside, she reared up again with a hoarse scream and clung to me. After a while my joy dispenser shrank and slipped out of the inflated shell. Our mixed juices dripped onto the carpet and she hastily grabbed a kitchen towel from the shelf to clean herself a bit. I watched her do it, stroking her bush, sinking a finger into her wet, flared conch. She immediately grabbed my cock again and started massaging and rubbing it, so we sat down again on the armchair and pulled off a petting of the finest. To stifle an incoming scream, she bit my shoulder and threw up and down my tail until I sucked in a sharp breath and shot my last drops into her hand. She licked it all up and smiled at me, legs spread as she sat there. I stroked her crotch again and asked her quietly: "Would you shave that for me?" - She stopped short and then said with a smile: "Tomorrow, same time, same place?"
Yes, I would be in the same place at the same time tomorrow, I promised her. We got dressed again and I stole back to my room.
But I digress. I am extremely fortunate that the awakening and outgrowth of my hormonal balance coincided with my time in England meeting Debby and her mother. Both, mother and daughter, had found in me the perfect balance for THEIR deficiency symptoms. I was – and mostly still am – always in good shape thanks to my physical fitness, but the training camps always hurt me, too. That's why the trainers in professional football used to make sure that their protégés always stayed together and bed rest during the pre-season or at tournaments like the shooting dogs - without women accompanying them! – was scrupulously complied with.
My team had completely screwed up the round of points that year and only narrowly escaped relegation. As a "reward", our trainer booked our training camp for preparation not in the sunny south, as usual, but in the Scottish Highlands; the scenery is actually beautiful, but still mostly deserted and the weather is horrible. Our daily routine always included at least one long-distance run through the hilly area, and one would think that such exertion would push all "sinful" thoughts out of the mind. But far from it! By the second or third day at the latest, one has adjusted to the stress and becomes aware of the sexual withdrawal again, so that some of the boys often made the characteristic sign of the "curved hand",
We stayed in a former British Army garrison building and even had our own room. When we came from training and went to eat after the shower, we entered the dining room via a long corridor. We rarely saw the kitchen staff, they were also male.
At least that's what we thought, but it never occurred to us that the female part was being kept hidden from us. I discovered this by accident one day when I was about to be late for breakfast and bumped into someone while cutting the path near the kitchen. We both fell to the ground, and when I tried to get up, someone cursed and scolded me in a language I didn't recognize. Completely taken aback, I looked at the clamoring something that was standing in front of me and was floored: A petite, maybe 20-year-old Asian woman was trying to smooth down her clothes and collect the kitchen waste that had been scattered halfway down the hallway as a result of the collision . Long black hair knotted at the nape of the neck; a face like in a fairy tale and almond-shaped eyes, from which the embers of the Far East glared at me. Her gaze seemed to pierce me at first, and when I stuttered an apology, her features relaxed a little, and she even helped me up. I was almost two heads taller than her, and a little embarrassed, I let her look me up and down. Especially the middle of my body drew her attention, because my training pants formed a middle camp because of the unexpected encounter with fair femininity. A mysterious smile played around her lips, she looked around briefly and pulled a piece of paper out of her apron pocket to scribble something on it. Then she gave me the note and disappeared back into the kitchen. I put the paper in my pocket and made my way to breakfast. The whole crew looked at me questioningly,
"The chef dropped the trash can!" I said, digging into my toast.
The training was rock hard, and this time the coach had his sights set on me. He let me go through a special kind of goalkeeper training, so that I was afraid that I wouldn't see the evening again. Fortunately, bed rest was announced until noon, so that I could rest after the shower. I remembered the morning's event and pulled the note from my pocket. It read in clumsy handwriting: "Chief of Kitchen, tonight after 10".
So tonight after 10 I was supposed to come to the chef's office. Easier said than done, because around this time the coach made his rounds to make sure we were all in bed. Let's see.
Sleep was out of the question, and I had a lapse during training that afternoon. Lost in free-kick practice and not seeing a ball coming, I was completely absorbed in my Asian beauty. With the result that I got the ball right in the face and collapsed. Our team doctor took care of me, put a pad on my nose and said to the coach: "Nothing broken, but he's done for today. Off to bed!”
I cheered on the inside despite the pain because that meant the coach wouldn't be checking my room tonight. I was still having dinner and trying to look as pained as possible when I passed the coach.
After that, the time passed painfully slowly until it was finally 10 o'clock. I opened the door to my room and cautiously peeked out into the hallway. The coast was clear and I slipped out, quickly following the shortcut to the kitchen. The door to the chef's office was ajar, a reading light was on, but there was no one in the room. Then the door slammed behind me, I turned around, and she stood in front of me with a mysterious smile. She hesitated when she saw my face, but I waved him off. "Not so bad!" and walked towards her. She put her arms around my neck and pulled me down to her. "I like you," she whispered, and carefully kissed my lips for the first time, which were still swollen. Then she gently pushed her tongue into my mouth and expertly twirled it between my teeth. It caused a tremendous turmoil in my sweatpants that was not lost on my blazing-eyed temptation. Tenderly she put her hand on the mighty mound and whispered: "How long have you been on withdrawal?" - "Much too long!" I answered and pulled her to the seating area that was in the office. She pushed me onto a sprawling chair and quickly stripped off my sweatpants and panties. My wand stood like Big Ben and she knelt between my legs, cupping the shaft in her small hands. The tip of her tongue tapped carefully on the drop of joy just protruding from the tip and distributed it on the glans, which she had freed from the foreskin with a gentle but firm pull. She let her tongue slide further down the shaft, gently rubbing the sting with both hands at the same time. I didn't move for fear of being early; what she did to me was absolutely fantastic. She realized that she couldn't take too much from me and stripped off her kitchen clothes. Under her apron she wore nothing but panties, which barely covered her dense, dark bush and which she also took off. Her breasts were small and firm, a boyishly slender body floated towards me and sat on my erect erect stand. That is, she had to lift one leg a little to be able to place the tip precisely, then she lowered herself very slowly. I held my breath and whistled it out again when Miko (that was her name) had completely swallowed my joy giver. She must have gotten herself in the right mood, because my dick slipped into her grotto without any problem. Now she put her feet to the left and right of me on the edge of the seat and, her hands clasped behind my neck, began a ride that was more reminiscent of a gymnastics exercise. Her vaginal muscles gripped my prick and slowly but surely made my cream boil over. I warned her, so she jumped down and knelt in front of me again. She grabbed my cock and massaged it vigorously, pointing the tip at her chest. The magma in my volcano erupted and I reared up, groaning almost in pain as my juice splattered her small breasts, neck, and face. She slipped the collapsing wand into her delicate mouth and blew it to her heart's content. She sucked out the ends of my streak, licked the stalk nice and clean and in a short while had it back in great shape. But I wanted to take revenge a bit and got up. She sat on the couch, her legs bent and spread wide. Normally her clam would certainly have been almost covered by her thick bushes, but her labia were swollen and her insides gaped and glistened before me. I knelt down in front of it and sank my tongue into the wetland, which elicited a small cry of pleasure that turned into a savored "Hmmmmaaahh..". She took my head in her hands and pushed it deeper into her crotch, as I let the tip of my tongue circle around her pearl. I slipped two more fingers into her cleft and felt the walls of her vagina tighten as she reared up with a choked scream. Her juices trickled down her butt crack and dripped onto the carpet, and she came again with a long sigh. As I straightened up, I put the backs of her knees in the crooks of my arms and simply picked up this cute flea. She squeaked in surprise at first, then wrapped her hands around my neck and immediately sealed my mouth with a sophisticated French kiss. Without further ado, I let her fall onto my steeply erect stand, which was aimed precisely at her center and retracted with a smacking sound. I rocked her across the office and sat her on the desk. Then I started with powerful thrusts, and she acknowledged each one with an ever-higher beep. My balls slapped in time against her rosette and I felt them contract again, and with one last hard push I discharged myself inside her. When she felt my hot cream inside, she reared up again with a hoarse scream and clung to me. After a while my joy dispenser shrank and slipped out of the inflated shell. Our mixed juices dripped onto the carpet and she hastily grabbed a kitchen towel from the shelf to clean herself a bit. I watched her do it, stroking her bush, sinking a finger into her wet, flared conch. She immediately grabbed my cock again and started massaging and rubbing it, so we sat down again on the armchair and pulled off a petting of the finest. To stifle an incoming scream, she bit my shoulder and threw up and down my tail until I sucked in a sharp breath and shot my last drops into her hand. She licked it all up and smiled at me, legs spread as she sat there. I stroked her crotch again and asked her quietly: "Would you shave that for me?" - She stopped short and then said with a smile: "Tomorrow, same time, same place?"
Yes, I would be in the same place at the same time tomorrow, I promised her. We got dressed again and I stole back to my room.
No comments:
Post a Comment