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06 Ağustos 2022, 21:04
Anna
I first see her when I take a shortcut home after a late shift. The area was known for prostitutes, and I usually paid them scant attention. Stopping at a traffic light, however, a well-built east-European girl walks past, with shoulder-length, platinum-blonde hair. She is wearing a black mini skirt and a short coat, which she pushes back from her bust as she spots me, making eye contact. In her tight, square-cut white top, her ample breasts compliment her strong thighs. Her lips are painted slut red, and smoke trails from the cigarette clamped between her teeth as she stares at me with an arrogant look.
I notice the lights have changed, and with a start, put the car in gear and drive away.
Several nights later, I drive past, and spot her again. I don't give the subject much thought for a while, until, a week or so later while surfing porn on the internet, I find a series of pics of a similar looking girl. A pang of recognition hits me, and I remember the street-girl I saw. I imagine meeting her; hearing her strong Polish accent, tasting cigarettes on her breath and feeling her heat as she comes on to me. Looking into the eyes of the girl in the pictures, I stroke myself past the point of no return, much earlier than I normally would.
I think about little else for a while. I fantasize about finding myself in situations with the girl, imagining how I could be very specific with her about my requirements. I'd never been with a prostitute, but I was starting to find the idea fascinating. To cut through the usual preamble with a girl, ignore the aspects of her being too big
I first see her when I take a shortcut home after a late shift. The area was known for prostitutes, and I usually paid them scant attention. Stopping at a traffic light, however, a well-built east-European girl walks past, with shoulder-length, platinum-blonde hair. She is wearing a black mini skirt and a short coat, which she pushes back from her bust as she spots me, making eye contact. In her tight, square-cut white top, her ample breasts compliment her strong thighs. Her lips are painted slut red, and smoke trails from the cigarette clamped between her teeth as she stares at me with an arrogant look.
I notice the lights have changed, and with a start, put the car in gear and drive away.
Several nights later, I drive past, and spot her again. I don't give the subject much thought for a while, until, a week or so later while surfing porn on the internet, I find a series of pics of a similar looking girl. A pang of recognition hits me, and I remember the street-girl I saw. I imagine meeting her; hearing her strong Polish accent, tasting cigarettes on her breath and feeling her heat as she comes on to me. Looking into the eyes of the girl in the pictures, I stroke myself past the point of no return, much earlier than I normally would.
I think about little else for a while. I fantasize about finding myself in situations with the girl, imagining how I could be very specific with her about my requirements. I'd never been with a prostitute, but I was starting to find the idea fascinating. To cut through the usual preamble with a girl, ignore the aspects of her being too big