An Englishman Abroad

Well, this had turned out to be a most unexpected day. When I'd begun my walk this morning little did I know where it would end.

I was a lost, weary traveller when I found you. I should have known better than to venture out from my hotel alone but I was so eager to explore your wonderful country that I couldn't wait.

Several hours later I was cursing my eagerness and wondering how best to find my way back to the hotel when I spied you. You were outside your home and looked as if you had just been out shopping. I quickly hurried over and introduced myself. I noticed that your face seemed to go red as I spoke. I thought nothing of it at the time, assuming that you were hot from the heat of the sun. Now, of course, I know that you were hot for quite a different reason.

I offered to help you carry your groceries inside in exchange for directions back to my hotel. You accepted my offer eagerly and led me into your house and through to the kitchen. As I followed you, I couldn't help but admire your curvaceous, round bottom, highlighted by the white dress you were wearing. I immediately felt a little guilty for secretly ogling you in such a way and tried to banish any thoughts of your gently swaying backside from my mind.

In the kitchen, I deposited the shopping bags on the floor. As I stood up, my shoulder inadvertently brushed against your - if I may say so - sizeable breasts. Breasts which looked as though they were barely being held in check by the thin fabric of your dress. I apologised profusely but you simply smiled and told me not to worry about it.

I sat at your large kitchen table while you bustled around unpacking shopping and making tea for us. As you busied yourself we talked. Well, I talked. You seemed to be quite content to listen.

I told you all about myself and my home in England but, truthfully, I was barely aware of what I was saying. As I watched you move around the kitchen and then sitting opposite me at the table, my mind was wandering. I imagined slowly undressing you, letting that flimsy white dress slip off before kissing my way up your body, along your legs, over your mound, up to your stomach, then your luscious breasts, your neck and finally your welcoming mouth.

I was brought sharply back to reality by your voice asking me if I was OK. It seemed that I had become so caught up in my fantasies that I had stopped talking and was now staring fixedly at your cleavage. I quickly averted my gaze, hoping you hadn't noticed, although I did see a small smile on your face as I did so.

We talked some more and drank tea. I tried very hard not to stare at your chest but, inevitably, the more one tries not to do something the more likely it is that it will happen. You still said nothing but I could tell that you seemed to enjoy the attention.

At one point you admitted that you had a 'thing' for English men. There were certain words, spoken in an English accent, that, for reasons you couldn't really explain, excited you. Naturally I then set about trying to find out which were the magic words that got you hot and bothered. I went through all manner of random words. Many of them failed to elicit much of a response. A few though - garage, aluminium - caused you to sigh happily. At one point I began to recite the names of the herbs and spices you had on your kitchen shelf. Only 'oregano' seemed to hit the spot.

Feeling somewhat mischievous, I began to repeat the same few words over and over, almost as a chant, to see what effect they had on you. You closed your eyes and I even detected a soft moan escape your lips as I repeated my mantra: "aluminium, garage, oregano. Aluminium, garage, oregano."

Eventually you begged me to stop. You certainly looked hot and flustered, your face and the top of your chest crimson. And I saw two small, hard nubs straining eagerly against the material of your dress. I couldn't help but smile at the obvious reaction that my words had caused. You smiled back and stood up to clear away the tea things. As you tided up you called me a naughty Englishman for torturing you so. I replied that it looked you enjoyed the torture which made you laugh.

You came over to me and I turned in my chair to look at you. You looked down at me, hands on your hips as I unashamedly ran my eyes over your body. There was no need to be coy now. You asked me if I liked what I saw and, when I replied in the affirmative, you smiled and asked if I'd like to see more. Again I said yes.

You straddled my lap facing me, your arms draped around my neck, your bottom pressed against my groin. I could feel your warm breath against my face. I looked into your eyes and you whispered: "Go ahead."

I slid a hand over your thigh, up your side to your shoulder. Your skin felt so soft and warm as I gently slipped the thin strap of your dress off your shoulder. With some assistance from you the other strap followed and soon the top half of your dress was bunched up at your waist, your magnificent breasts finally free of their confinement.

My hands roamed over your chest, kneading and massaging the large, soft orbs. You closed your eyes and moaned softly as I did so. Dipping my head slightly, I brought one breast up to my mouth and quickly ran my tongue over one hard nipple. The reaction from you was immediate as you threw back your head and moaned loudly before breathlessly asking for more. In response, I latched on to your breast and began to suck hard.

Minutes, or maybe hours, passed as I suckled on you. I lost all track of time, my entire focus was on you. The feel of your warm skin beneath my hands, the taste of your breasts in my mouth as I sucked and licked on each one in turn, the scent of your arousal, the sounds of your pleasure as you moaned your appreciation.

Finally, I broke away, leaving wet, red marks on each breast and your nipples still hard and prominent. I looked at you, seeing the desire in your face, the want in your eyes. It was a look that I knew I shared. I wanted you.

Before I could voice my desire you leaned in and kissed me. I wrapped my arms around you and pulled you close as we devoured each other. I could feel your hard nipples through my t-shirt, pressing against my chest. You wiggled your bottom, grinding it against my hardness and causing me to moan. You broke the kiss, with a little giggle and looked at me, saying:

"Give me a good seeing-to, Englishman."

I had to smile. I hadn't expected those exact words to come out of your mouth. You'd obviously picked up a few English phrases from somewhere. But the meaning was clear.

You slid off my lap, your dress still half hanging off you. I stood up and saw you looking at the now very obvious bulge in my trousers. You grinned again and, slipping your arms around my neck pulled me into another deep and longing kiss. Wrapped up in each other, we stumbled backwards into the kitchen table. Breaking the kiss, you sat yourself on the edge of the table and looked at me expectantly.

"Here?" I asked.

You nodded and began pushing your dress down. In moments it had slipped off and was on the kitchen floor. I Iooked over your near-naked body, taking it all in. Enjoying the attention, you ran your hands over your stomach and chest, showing yourself off to me. Then your hands were on me, tugging at my t-shirt.

"You're such a bad girl," I said as I pulled my t-shirt over my head with your assistance. You moaned in agreement as you slid your hands over my bare chest for the first time. Then your hands were on my belt, fingers nimbly undoing the buckle. My trousers quickly slid down to the ground, followed by my boxer shorts. I stepped out of them and then I was standing naked in front of you.

I had thought that I would feel awkward or embarrassed. After all I was standing naked in the kitchen of a woman I had only met a short time earlier. But, right at this moment, all I could think about was how much I wanted to take you right here, right now across your kitchen table.

You gently ran your finger along my hard shaft, seeing the full extent of my arousal for the first time. Your touch caused it to jump in your hand which seemed to please you a great deal. You looked at me, smiled and then lay back on the long table. Your buttocks were on the edge of the table and your legs dangled over the side.

You watched as I slowly began to slide your knickers down and off your legs. It was impossible not to be aware of the large damp patch on the front of your underwear, nor of your very obvious arousal that was revealed as I removed the soaked material.

I dropped your knickers to the floor. You spread your legs, hooking them around my waist as I stood, poised to enter your wet opening. The tip of my shaft brushed against you and you moaned in what sounds like frustration. Not wanting to tease you any further, I pushed forward and slid deep into you in one thrust. This time the moan that came from your lips was one of pure pleasure.

Holding your hips, I began moving in and out. My gaze was fixed on you, watching your every reaction. Your eyes were closed and a small smile played around your mouth. With each thrust, a moan or groan of pleasure issued from your lips. Your hands roamed over your body, massaging and squeezing your breasts, playing with your hard nipples. You began urging me to thrust into you harder, faster and I tried my best to meet your demands.

Soon the kitchen was full of the sounds of our lust - the wet slap of our bodies slamming together, the moans and cries of desire, the creak of the table as it moved in time with our lovemaking. These sounds grew in intensity as events built towards a climax. I moved rapidly in and out of you as you encouraged me with greater and greater urgency: harder...harder...harder.

Then, with a loud cry, you climaxed, arching your back as you writhed and convulsed on the table. Your womanhood gripped my shaft tightly in its velvet grasp as it spasmed and it was all I could do not to explode myself.

Wave after wave of pleasure seemed to flow over you. Gradually, your climax began to subside. You were still panting with exertion and there were beads of sweat glistening all over your body but you looked extremely relaxed and there was a big smile on your face.

You gripped the base of my shaft with one hand and carefully eased it out of you, jumping slightly when it brushed against a sensitive spot. Then you began to stroke along it's length, your hand moving quickly back and forth. Aroused as I was, it took only moments for my own climax to hit me. I felt that familiar sensation shoot along my shaft as I passed the point of no return and then thick streams of my cream shot over your stomach and breasts.

After squeezing and milking me dry, you let go of my softening member. I felt like my legs were going to give way so i sank down into the nearest chair. You sat up and began rubbing my creamy deposits into your skin. When this was done, we looked at each other. As I ran my eyes over you, I felt an involuntary twitch between my legs. You noticed it too and raised a eyebrow. Then without a word, you stood up, took my hand and led me towards the bedroom...