Great Britain

Great Britain Ch. 3 - London

Now, I know chapters one and two were both based in countries, and London is a city. I know this! But, while in England, my base of operation was a flat just north of Finchley Road, about three tube stops, or a short bus ride to the famous Abbey Road Studios. In all honesty though, in a city of eight million people; where the surrounding area is nothing similar to inside the city limits, London really is a country all to itself. But enough of that, sit back and enjoy my third installment.

London:

As I hurried down the steps outside Scarlet’s flat, and into the waiting street below, I moved with a renewed sense of purpose. For once my heart and mind worked together for a common goal. I realized I must forgo the rest of my stay in Edinburgh and return to London as quick as possible. I must to get back to Lauren.

With my head held high, my heart pumping vigorously, and a spring in my step, I strode down the street towards…towards… ‘Where am I going?’ Better question, ‘Where the Hell am I?’ Then it hit me, I was currently lost for the second time in 24 hours on the streets of Edinburgh. Fortunately, this time I was sober.

Like a true man, asking directions is for pussies, so I pulled out my ‘trusty map.’ It was as helpful this afternoon as it was the night before. Why would you only put five street names on a map covering a city the size of Edinburgh? I was a little discouraged, yet still determined. After twenty minutes of looking around, I started to recognize landmarks from my bus tour. ‘That’s helpful,’ I thought to myself. But as soon as the thought crossed my mind, any similarity between what I saw the day before and what I was currently looking at vanished. ‘Crap!’

In a futile effort, I took one more look at the map. Then I looked across the street. ‘You know, that funny looking building looks like the cartoon of the museum on this map,’ I thought to myself. ‘Oh, Shit, I know where I am! But how do I get to the train station?’

At that moment, another voice rang out like the singing of angels; which is funny, because it was an old mans voice. But, it was the voice of salvation coming to my rescue.

“Are ‘ye lost sonnie?” he asked in a gruff Scottish accent.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, sir,” I thankfully responded.

“Where a’ ‘ye tryin’ tu’ go?”

“The train station,” I said hopefully.

“Well, lucky you, ‘tits right ‘cross the street,” he spoke kindly, almost amused.

“REALLY!?!?”

“Sure! See the Royal Bank of Scotlan’?”

“Yes.”

“Go to the righ’, and ‘ye’ll find some steps. Go down ‘em, and ‘ye’ll fin’ ‘yaself in the center of town. Can’t miss the train station then sonnie.”

“God bless you sir,” I said extending my hand in gratitude.

“No problem son,” he said griping my hand firmly. “Be careful and God speed.”

With that he turned and walked away, probably laughing to himself and thinking, ‘Stupid Americans,’ but I didn’t care, I was back on track. I’ll tell you this though, so far on my journeys, I have never met kinder, happier, friendlier people than the Scottish and the Irish. Not that the English are none of these things, but my time in England has been spent mostly in London. Eight million people, you do the friendly math! Plus, while in London, I always seemed to know where I was going, or at least how to get back to where I came from. But every spot of trouble I may have found myself in while in Ireland and Scotland, there were always friendly souls there to help me out. It felt like I had someone watching over me. This gave my current mission a sublime assurance. I could not fail!

The trip back to London felt like a slow escalator ride to Hell. I’m sure it was only due to my building anticipation, and my regretful evening, but either way, it was torturous. Plus, I didn’t smell that great. I left Scarlet’s in a hurry without a shower. The day was quite warm, and I walked in a complete circle around Edinburgh in my sweatshirt, carrying my backpack. I was ripe! Fortunately, I truly felt like a world traveler…they usually smell too. But the best part of my fragrance was the smell Scarlet had left on my belongings and my body. I still had remnants of her sweat and moisture from the night before. It was a lovely, yet sad odor. I felt so bad that I wrote for hours about what I felt. I did not what to forget what I saw in here eyes as I fucked her seeing someone else’s face. Then once again the pain I saw in her eyes as I explained the situation. I never want to lay that burden on anyone else.

When I got back to London, I rushed back to my flat; the university provided lovely accommodations…small by American standards, but it had a kitchenette (a skink, micro-wave, and dorm fridge, with a breakfast nook) a living room (a TV and some chairs with a coffee table) and a small hallway leading to a bathroom straight ahead, and my bedroom to the right. I did not rush back to see Lauren; I knew the Paris group would not be back until tomorrow, but I needed to shower, and I had to plan out how I would spend my time making love to Lauren, almost as if it were a given she would fall at my feat. It’s amazing what you can build up in your mind. All I had to do was ask her to drop her panties, and away we went. I do have to admit, I did have a good fantasy built up. I knew what I wanted to do with her, and to her, and how we would carry it all out.

First I would do something goofy like invite her over to my place, where she would find the door ajar. She would walk in and find a trail of Hershey Kisses on the floor leading to the bathroom, and up into the shower. When she pulled back the curtain I would be holding a bouquet of flowers, saying, ‘I want to shower you in flowers, and kiss the ground you walk on.’ Cute right?

Then we would move to the ‘living room,’ and we would sit down and talk. She would be wearing loose shorts and a t-shirt. We would start kissing for no reason, and I would instantly run my hand up her shorts where I would find no underwear. I would just start fingering her, and kissing her, and making out. Then I would lean over and start talking dirty to her. Let her know how much I wanted to do hot and nasty things with, and to her. Ohhh…It would have to be at night too, so I could fill the flat with candles…yeah, that would be romantic. ‘This is getting good,’ I thought.

Next I would just take off all her clothes, and kiss all over her skin, and give her a massage. Then I would pick her up and take her into my room, where I would have satin sheets. ‘Wow, I’m good!’

Then we could have some fun with ice water or chocolate syrup. Then I would lick her whole body clean, and then go down on her. Then with no rhyme or reason, I would just whip it out and start having sex. ‘Yeah, that would be hot.’

I began to really visualize what I was fantasizing. I was getting so turned on that I actually did pull my erect penis from my shorts. I started to slowly massage my taught skin, and playfully tickle my hairless testicles. I didn’t expect to get myself so worked up.

Next I thought we would move to the hallway, and I could place her against the wall, and I could fuck her gently into the wall while she was totally wrapped around my body. She would start yelping in my ear as I pounded into her. She would say, “Fuck me! Harder! Deeper! Faster! Fuck! Fuck! OHHHH, I’m CUMMMIIIINNNGGGG!” Then with another hard thrust, I would come too.

My God, I was getting hot planning this out. I couldn’t keep my hands off of my body. The British are not known for their AC, but I was getting physically hot. I had to take off my shirt first. My free hand reached up and stroked my chest. Then without thinking, I began to twist and tweak my nipples until they were as erect as my cock. As I continued to fantasize, the pace of my stroking quickened to match my racing heartbeat. Stroke after stroke, I was pounding myself to a fantastic climax. My penis was dark and fleshy-hard between my clenched grip. My veins were squishy and full. I had to think of some more quick, hot fantasies so I could finish off this burning in my loin.

Then we could go into the bathroom. The shower is not exactly large, but you could squeeze two people inside. We could clean each other off. My hands could travel over her hard stomach, her firm, full breasts, and her solid and round ass. She cold lather my crotch and play with my balls. By this time I would be hard again. I would turn off the shower, and take her out dripping wet. I would pick her up and place her on the sink, and start fucking her again. Both of our bodies would be dripping all over the place. Wet, soaking bodies slamming together. ‘That would ROCK!’ Then I could rip down the shower curtain, and cover it in baby oil. ‘Where do I get such wonderful ideas?’ Our greasy bodies could slip and squirm all over the place. I could run my fingers over her oily bush, and squeeze through her luscious mounds, tweaking her nipples. I could penetrate her warm, drenched pussy with ease.

With that, I started to feel my sack tighten up. My breath became very shallow, and my heart was racing. I could barely see my hand as it stroked my full prick. I was so turned on; my flesh was red with excitement. I had to relieve this pressure, and soon.

I figured next we could turn to a hot tub full of bubbles. The warm water could swirl around our nakedness, and the bubbles could tickle our skin as they popped. More sex and moaning and swearing to God above. Or, we could have sex on the washer. I have always heard rumors about the spin cycle. When we were done, we could collapse on a pile of laundry fresh, warm towels. Then the mother of all fantasies…I could see Lauren contorted into some wild, hot, hard position (in which I don’t believe to this day would be physically possible) making her cunt tighter, wetter and hotter than ever before.

‘…Ohhhh Yeahhh!’

That did it! With three more tugs of my flesh, I leaned back on my bed, cleared my throat, clenched my teeth and moaned Laurens name. I shot four quick streaks of semen onto my chest and stomach. It was thick and hot like warm glue as it landed in pools and globs on my perspiring body. ‘Oh Lauren…Oh Lauren…you make me so happy!’

When I regained my senses, I went to the bathroom to clean up. Then I hit me: What was I fantasizing? Most of that shit was childish. ‘Oh, she’ll be wearing loose shorts and a t-shirt with nothing under…Without rhyme or reason, I’ll just start fucking her…Chocolate syrup…’ What was I thinking? I’m not in high school anymore. Those ideas are stupid, and/or impossible. First off, I don’t have a hot tub. Second, the washer is on the other side of campus. Thirdly, the shower curtain idea…well that would be hot! But all that oil would eat through any protection we had. No, this time would have to be different. It would have to be a sophisticated, elegant, well-planned evening for two. But this planning would have to wait. Jerking off like that had worn me out. I had not even asked her out yet, and the thought of her was making me happy and sleepy. It was naptime.

Two and a half hours later I was startled awake by a knock at my door. The purple hue flooding in through my open window alerted me to the presence of evening. What time was it, how long had I slept? I rolled out of bed and put on some boxer-briefs and some shorts and strolled to the door.

“Who is it,” I queried.

“Its Sarah, can I come in?”

I quickly unlocked the door and ushered her into the living room. Sarah had no interest in Paris, and wanted to visit Glasgow, Scotland on her own time, so she had stayed in London to do her own exploring. She was wearing cut-off sweatpants that rode high on her creamy flesh, and a cut-off sweatshirt that barely covered her protruding breasts. The hem of her shirt didn’t even reach back to meet the bare flesh of her torso. If a short enough person approached her, for a change, they could have seen straight UP her shirt.

In the low light of the evening, I could make out the outline of her gorgeous body silhouetted against the door. Her hair was flowing down her back. As I began to focus, and my eyes started to adjust, I could see her head was slightly down turned. She had the sniffles as well. When she tilted up to look at me I could see her beautiful eyes were red and strained with anguish. The lovely cheeks I had once tenderly kissed were now puffy and blemished with tear streaks. Sarah was sobbing lightly.

“Sarah? What’s the matter? Are you alright?”

Heaving herself into my naked arms, she spoke. “He’s dead…John Boy…John Boy…He’s…He’s dead!” Her body went limp, and I had to support most of her body weight in a flash.

My mind was racking. She had apparently had a terrible loss. Who was John Boy? Was it her brother, uncle, cousin, long time friend of the family?

“Who’s John Boy sweetie?”

“He’s…*sniffle, sniffle*…He’s my dog.”

I responded with a quiet chuckle, which was received with a swat to my rib cage.

“I’m sorry sweetie, I shouldn’t laugh. I cried too when my dog died. Why don’t you tell me what happened, get it off your chest.”

So we sat down and she buried her head into the nook of my neck and shoulder, my arms draped around her body, holding her close and tight. She told me about all her good times with John Boy, and how they had to put him down after 19 years of a good healthy life. I felt her hot tears stream down my naked chest. I let her cry. After a few minutes I straitened her up and brushed away her tears. They hung on my fingers like morning dew, and I shook them to the floor. I told her I would make her some tea (tea seams to solve every problem in England) and bring her some tissues.

When I returned, she silently sipped her tea, and loudly blew her nose. I asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you?” as I slid back down to her side.

Craning her neck, she looked into my eyes, and I wiped another silent tear away. She spoke softly, yet intently, “Make love to me again. All I feel inside of me is cold, empty loss. I want to forget. I want to be filled with something warm, and purposeful. Please, make love to me.”

I had to swallow hard, and think fast. I pulled her close to me and gave her a peck on her moist lips. I was once more staring back into this beautiful face. This time needing me more than the last, yet…I had to tell her what was in my heart. “Sarah, only one thing on this planet would make me happier tonight, than to make love to you. My heart would break at passing the opportunity to return to your body, but I fear it would shatter if I ruined my chances with…with Lauren. I hope you understand.”

She returned her head to my chest and shed a few more tears, saying, “You don’t want me?”

I lifted her chin and gazed deeply into her eyes. They were the color of midnight again in the darkened room. I gently brushed away the few remaining tears. Speaking calmly and lovingly, I returned, “Any man would be a fool not to want you, but I fear my heart belongs to someone else. I’m truly sorry.”

As she looked into my eyes she could see the change I found in Scotland only days before.

Sarah leaned on me once again, and there was a long period of silence. Finally, after what had seemed like a few hours, we started to speak again. She was now calmer, but she still clung to my body. I didn’t mind, she needed me at this moment. As the clock ticked on and on, it suddenly became late. She asked if she could stay the night. She didn’t want to be alone. I had no problem sharing my bed with this lovely woman. I wanted to protect her and watch her through the night. I picked her up in my arms and carried her to my room.

I placed her into my bed, and went to the bathroom so she could have privacy to ready herself. I returned moments later, dropped my shorts and crawled into bed to be with her. I faced her and said good night. She reached out and pulled my head to her face and kissed me sweetly. My penis gave a twitch, but I ignored it. I flopped onto my side, as to not be tempted, and tried in vain to fall asleep.

Some time later, I felt a rustling on the other side of my bed. Like a bolt of lightning, her had flashed to my skin. It was startling, yet exciting. She began to pull me closer into her body. ‘What’s this I feel? Oh, my, it’s her flesh!’ She had removed her top and now my unprotected back was melting into her bare breasts. My cock shot up in an instant as I felt her hand snake through the blanket to attach itself to my body through my underwear. My head was spinning, ‘I can’t make love to her.’ A groan escaped my lips as her hand found the tip of my expanding flesh. Sarah began to sway her body back and forth against mine. She pulled my elastic down to my taint, freeing my throbbing cock. She stroked it softly, yet intently. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted it now. Without thinking, my head swimming in circles, my hand shot behind me and found the nudity of her fleshy wetness. She moaned, ‘Yes,’ as I stroked her delicate folds.

As her stroking increased, my finger penetrated her tightness. I slipped with ease through her moisture, past her outer lips, and then stroking her entrance. My middle finger bobbed in place as my pointer searched for her pleasure button. She shivered and clenched upon connecting with her clitoris. Her quivering flesh melted upon my probing contact. Once again, England is not known for AC, and the room quickly filled with heat, moisture, and the smell and sounds of our sex. The thwapping of my flesh in her hands was only outdone by the spongy slickness of her beneath my fingers.

Suddenly, my hand began to cramp. I new I would either have to flip over, or end this erotic dance of flesh. I quickly removed my fingers and her hands and tossed to face her. She squealed with delight as I probed her mouth with my tongue and applied both of my hands to her groin, one to return inside of her, and the other to trace her patch of down, and to prance around her lovely body. She returned to my body like it was a missing part of hers. Both of her hands flew to my crotch. One continued stroking me while the other twisted my balls delicately.

We started a cadence that ebbed and flowed through the waning hours. Suddenly her stroking became erratic. Her walls clenched my hand, and I stopped forcing them in and out, yet began to wiggle them inside her. I have her body a focal point to attack her impending orgasm. Her breath became shallow and hard. I moved my other hand up to her breasts and stroked them both lovingly. I bend my head to her nipple and gently applied pressure with my lips. Sarah tensed and called my name. Her breathing mixed with her moans and her body writhed beneath my touch. Rocking hard against my silent fingers, she pulled me close and a silent scream escaped her open mouth as she came hard. She propped her upper leg high and made a tent of the sheet. She slammed repeatedly into my awaiting hand, and clenched and probed with her contracting walls. Her body was so hot to my touch. I was so happy I could pleasure this woman.

As she came down from wave after wave of orgasm, she returned to me with renewed vigor. She knew her goal, and it was to rock my world. One hand reached to wipe the flow from her leg, only to smear it onto my waiting cock. I could feel her moisture, warm on my body. She stroked relentlessly. Her only want was for me to cum onto her warm, tight flesh. She attached herself to my face and parted my lips with her mouth.

With such an attack, I could not last long. I felt my testicles move independently from my body. A hurricane was blowing from my groin. My body became rigid and Sarah moved in closer. She needed me on her skin, flesh to flesh. She wanted my cum to burn into her. She intently pulled upward with care and concentration. My time was at hand. I moaned her name loudly from my lips…”Saraaaaaah!” I thrust my hips sharply towards her body. I let go. Jet after jet of my cum splashed her body. It was trickling from her breasts and pooling in her belly. A few splashes landed above her pubis, and drizzled into her hair. I pulled her close to me, kissing her, and rubbing semen between our hot and tortured bodies. It was the second time today that my bed had seen my seed.