A Little Dutch Flower Girl.
In 1976 I was traveling in the art crowd. It was a super fun group of people; there were actors, singers, theater and opera, makeup people, stage designers, and all-around talented people. I was just a photographer, and they were my friends. Many of us even dated. At one of these parties that were becoming a biweekly thing, we would take turns at whose place we would host it.
The fun part of the parties was if there was a show, it would become an after-party starting at midnight, or if it was a late Sunday brunch, there was always great food and drinks, and someone would play the radio on of the college radio stations. When I held the party at my house, someone would play DJ and play my hundreds of records, a gift from a dear Aunt who passed.
This party was a brunch, a weekly party eggs Benedict was the main course, mimosas or French 75's, and Mexican coffee with Kahlua and Tequila served. Someone started singing folk songs, and a couple joined in with spoons. Finally, someone brought a cute blond young Dutch lady. She brought a box of flowers that brightened the house on this cold day in November.
We were warm around a friendly fire, good friends, music, and food. The Dutch girl was wearing a loose dress, chatting and mingling with people. Just hearing her talk was executing. It had been a long night taking photos of a band till nearly three am. I was a bit knackered. I sat down and drank my second Mexican coffee, trying to tune out the folk songs and get my brain in gear.
I could do better with folk music after at least three drinks. I was on the side porch smoking my tobacco pipe and roasting a joint that was being passed between rooms. The person I was talking to got up to join the folk circle. It left me out of the loop that was OK. I was working on a hangover cure, getting the hair of the dog down, and the J had helped a bit.
When the Dutch girl came in and says. "My name is Annmarie. Sitting down with her back facing the folk singers that put her facing me with my back to the wall. She pulled a tiny metal hash pipe out of her cleavage, and we tapped that bad boy. It was that much stronger than the Mexican dirt weed we were smoking.
This super cool/hot girl says. "Did I know how to go around the world?''
How do you answer that? "OK, I did and do, Was that just small talk, or was that a request?'' I asked.
The talk went from masturbation to blow jobs as the room next door played Dillon tunes. I am twenty-eight, six foot two, two hundred ten pounds, with deep blue eyes and long brown hair. In the summer, with enough sun, it gets a touch blond.
She opened her legs slowly and sucked her finger like a dick flashing her bush at me. She was five foot nine with mid-length brown hair and bright blue eyes, and I think she was packing at 38-35-32 Cs. Her breasts turned up at the nipple and were an incredible pear shape that fit my mouth nicely. Never had that happened before. Was she trying to drive me nuts, or did she need to come?
I could play that game; I picked up my chair and moved closer to her, arm's length. I watch behind her to see if anyone is even looking our way. I see there in their world, and we are in ours. I reach forward and stroke the side of your cheek, running my finger over your lips and into her mouth, letting her wet my finger. I take my wet finger and go to my cock head in my pants, rubbing her wetness in-till precum comes out; I wipe it off and place my finger back in her mouth. Her eyes close, and she moans. I pull my finger out, and she looks for more. I pull her ears and squeeze them. Another low moan comes out of her, and she starts singing along with the song in the other room.
Getting bolder, I reach out and use her body to block the view from the other room. I grasp your full breast, twisting and flipping her nipples off, you turning flushed. Your eyes get a little wild. I trade one breast for the other and tease her nipples to the point that her breathing changes.
If I did not know better, I would say she was damn close to coming, and I have not touched her pussy at all. She grabs my hand. I think she wants me to stop, she's afraid we will get caught, but that's not the case. She was not pushing my hand away but trying to get me to squeeze harder. I can and do. I see her eyes flutter, her hips wiggle as she bites her lips, and she's coming. Damn, I had no clue a woman could come from nipple play alone. A rare thing I learned was that squeezing your legs together did it to you.
I have to move my hard-on. It's hurting in my pants. Annmarie watches and licks her lips leaning forward, slides one of her hands into my pants, and plays with my head getting her fingers wet with my precum. Then, she pulls her hand out and licks her fingers clean like they are my cock. Yes, it makes it hard to sit still; my hand slips under her dress testing her bush, and she is like a swamp.
One finger slips in, then two. I first seem like Annmarie's lips are significant, but as her clit gets hard, she is as big as my thumb, and what the hell? I start stroking it between my fingers like it's a tiny cock. It was the right thing to do. She was coming again, and her juices wet my hand up to my wrist.
