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Games with K  

akindofintrigue 40M
5 posts
4/12/2016 5:14 pm
Games with K



Photo: a.goluzenkov

We got back to her place drunk. Drunker I’d say than I would have cared to be, but she was a champ, putting away shot after shot – well that’s the sort of drinking stamina students develop isn’t it? But I was not in that league anymore. For someone of her slight size she remained impressively balanced and coherent, but then I suppose it’s all relative and I was sloshed.

I had known K since we were at school, and though she didn’t feel like a little sister to me (as the cliché goes), had I stayed closer to her older brother she might have done and this story would never have happened. As it was, her brother, who had been one of my best friends through school, went ‘AWOL’ when he dropped out of uni and moved to the other side of the country a number of years before. I had tried to stay in contact with him, and had a few times managed to visit him at his place, but with our paths heading in different directions our friendship changed and inevitably faded. One such visit to his place had coincided with a visit from his younger sister, then a precocious and pretty seventeen year old, who, in the words of her older brother was “maturing far too fast”. That I could clearly see as I tried to pretend inappropriate thoughts were not going around in my head. She had been getting herself into all sorts of trouble in her first year of college, fraternising with the boys (it was clear, I thought, she had lost her virginity probably some years ago), drinking and smoking pot – which I had to remind her brother sounded like our college days too (except we were the boys). The little girl I once knew didn’t exist anymore and had been replaced with a young feisty and dangerously attractive woman who was as excited about and happy to explore her sexuality (and the way in which it entranced the men around her) as she was naive about it.

Back then it was a job of diverting my natural physical attraction, but, some three years later when K contacted me quite out of the blue she was old enough to make her own decisions and all play was fair. She had found my email address in among the recipients of an email sent by her brother a few years back and decided to say hi. A conversation developed quite quickly, tame at first, but after not long her flirtations were obvious, especially after the point that she admitted she had developed a crush on me when she had met me then at her brother’s place. In the meantime she had become a fan of the alternative, had received numerous tattoos and piercings and I barely needed to encourage her to show me in pictures. Pictures in which she was usually unnecessarily naked. From the tattoo on her right arm and shoulder of a Native American wearing a headdress surrounded by roses which she chose to take a picture of whilst flashing (and making no attempt to obscure) just a bit too much breast, to the tattoo of a kraken on her left thigh that she chose to show me in a picture in which she wore the slightest of underwear, she was clearly aiming to tease. Thus I was barely moved when she decided to show me her nipple piercings or the little triangle tattoo she had had done just between her breasts – her<b> clit piercing </font></b>though, I had to leave to my imagination for now.

She was now on some sort of media related degree at the University of East London and living alone in a one bedroom flat above a corner store in Beckton, London, that her father had brought for her to use as she studied (although from what I gather in that first year very little studying happened there). So, when I told her I was in London for an event at the Excel she demanded I pay her a visit, and that I dutifully did.

We met in a pub. The sort that felt typical of East London, not the sort a student would be found in, but there we were. I immediately recognised her even with her recent alterations. And she stood out. Recently dyed bright blue hair, under a loose over-sized beanie hat, thick-framed spectacles that I doubt she truly needed, tight denim hot-pants that revealed the full length of her legs and their tattoos to the pub’s gawping spectators, naughty high socks and a loose fitting American style sport-top that at least modestly covered her chest but proudly displayed the impressive ink on her arms. She was a hipster’s wet dream - she was my wet dream - and she radiated light in this dreary and drab pub with its sticky carpet and fetid odour of stale dregs. When she saw me her eyes widened as she leaped from the bar stool on which she was delicately perched. She howled my name as she threw herself around me and announced I would rescue her from the “lecherous” old men at the bar. And so the bar-crawl started.

I hadn’t booked myself a hotel that night confident I could crash at her place after a night of drinking, but though I considered it, I couldn’t be sure she’d be inviting me home for sexual liaisons anymore than she would simply offer a friend a chance to sleep off a hang-over on her couch. I guessed her flirtations were probably more her personality than targeted advances and my suspicions were seemingly confirmed as throughout the night she fired out flirts to every guy that would look her way. It was quite careless, though to her credit it earned us many free drinks even if for confusing several poor misled boys and creating more than one ‘heroic’ defence from pumped up jocks intending to separate her from my “lingering”! The opportunity to steer any flirtation myself appeared completely absent as I tried, hopelessly, to cut through her hyper energetic, and increasingly drunken, personality. She led me, and there was virtually nothing I could do about it except follow.

And so I crashed, yes ‘crash’ is the right word, in her flat. After we stumbled in she led me to a huge green living-room beanbag on which I landed with her on top of me. Finally out of the chaos of the student bar scene drunk flirts darted between the two of us and hands wandered uninhibited and without objection. We began making out and... I passed out cold.



Photo: @NamirasRot (reddit)
Editing: akindofintrigue


Alcohol can make a fool of a man, but mercifully I think my dignity still held and my head didn’t hurt too much the next day. Nothing that a glass of water couldn’t solve after a gargle to heal my musty dry mouth. My jeans had left my body by some mechanism at some point in the night, but otherwise I was still decent. I hadn’t woken early, but thankfully nether had she. I heard her stirring in her room (the Ithaca I never reached after last night’s odyssey) shortly after I rose and before long she emerged and trotted to the bathroom. Our eyes met but she neither communicated an ounce of disappointment in my previous failure of consciousness nor shame for her current near nakedness – just warmth – “good morning!” she sang, which I presume to be a joke, it was no longer the ‘morning’.

We swapped once she was done and I did my best to wash myself up with an array of feminine toiletries while wondering if there was still a chance to turn last night’s kiss and fumble into anything more. I was punishingly aware of my time running low to score the conversion - I had a train to catch. When I came back to the living-room she was splayed out practicing yoga. Her small baby-blue hipsters barely covered the junction of her thighs and I felt every fresh gush of blood to below my waist with every bend she did before me. She wore a loose black rock band t-shirt which rode down to her shoulders exposing her bare breasts with every downward or arch that she made. She knew what she was doing, but when she finished and turned to me the next thing she said threw me. “Wanna play a video game?”

A video game? The plethora of consoles beside her television proved I shouldn’t be surprised that K was a ‘gamer girl’, but my presently forming intentions to turn up the heat might have just been blown out of the water. Though I couldn’t be so presumptuous to assume K wanted to go back to where we left off last night, this wasn’t what I expected her to ask. Then I remembered a conversation at a party from a few months before.

“I have two friends” I replied “they are partners. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Live together too. Massive geeks and love to play video games. And they play a little game together. They fire up a console and choose a fairly simple game – something they know really well – probably a racing game or a first person shooter. They set it on single player and as he starts the play she goes down on him to give head and attempts to put him off his game by making his eyes roll back in their sockets. If he dies, falls off the track or whatever, she stops and they swap over and the game is reversed.”

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Hah-Hah! Yeah, we’ll play that!” the sarcasm in her voice was palpable. She leaned over the Wii and switched it on. “Everyone’s played Mario Kart on a Wii right?” She began to set up a game.

“Well I’ve played it. I’m terrible with a Wii controller though. I feel like you’d be getting a better deal out of this than me! Who’s starting?” I was half-joking.

“What?” She asked as she turned to me to see my hand well within my boxers. “Oh my God! Stop touching yourself you foul man!” she laughed and for the first time looked flustered.

After a momentary pause she put away controller number two and negotiated, “OK. We’ll play your game. But no genitals!” She stifled a laugh. “I’ll begin and you can try and put me off my game. No obscuring my vision – obviously. That would be too easy. No pinching or tickling, and keep your hands away from my panties!” She said before showing me her tongue like a petulant .

She settled herself into the beanbag and selected Baby Daisy with the Bullet Bike (in case you were wondering), the fairground style music started and cartoonish catchphrases of the Nintendo characters butted in randomly and made my crude attempts to generate an erotic scenario surreal verging on the absurd. Could we be headed towards amorous congress? It seemed unlikely at this point there would be any leg-locking, but now I was committed to the new game. As the countdown Klaxon began she looked at me as if to say “do your worst!” Game on then.

I positioned myself on my knees behind her and as the race started I began to gently trace my finger-tips along her arms drawing from her shoulders to her elbows on both sides painfully slowly with barely enough pressure for her to register the touch. Not enough. My fingers past her elbows and found the bottom of her t-shirt and the skin of her abdomen drawing spirals that got slowly larger. With my head right behind hers she could feel my breathing on the back of her neck and I could hear hers slowly getting heavier. As my fingers began to get dangerously close to her forbidden panties and her breasts I delicately kissed the back of her neck. She crashed off the track.

“Oh, you’re so naughty! Good luck!” She exclaimed as we switched positions and I sank into the beanbag.

Immediately she firmly gripped my head and began to lick from my neck to the top of my head so that her breasts grazed the side of my head at the top of her motion. After a few of these she placed her right palm spread wide on my chest and firmly moved it down, past my abdomen and my boxers to the top of my thighs where her hand eventually settled between my legs millimetres from my balls. She could not have helped by see my fully engorged penis pressing against the inside of my boxers. Unsurprisingly my focus was impaired and I crashed. Baby Daisy at this point had been lapped by the other characters and was trailing irreparably.

We swapped again, with K back in the hotseat. Baby Daisy sat in the road motionless as K focused her attention momentarily not on the game, but me, and gave me a quick kiss on the lips before returning back to the competition. My gamble appeared to be paying off! Again, gently, I began to kiss her neck and with my right hand started to play with the waistband of her hipsters waiting to see if she’d chastise me for breaking our previously arranged rules - she didn’t. I put myself between her legs and started to kiss, slowly, the inside of her knee. Softly I worked the skin on her inner thigh with my lips migrating achingly slowly towards the pinnacle of her legs as the video game carried on behind me. Baby Daisy didn’t stand a chance of winning this race. At the top I swapped sides and worked back down towards her knees as K’s breathing become so heavy to be audible above the comedy go-karts and character whoops. Her feet gathered and beckoned me to return to the origin of both our urges. I looked up to discover her hands were no longer cradling the game controller but in her panties coaxing her pussy. K’s head was lolled back, staring at the ceiling with her mouth parted, panting. The game controller was on the floor. Fuck the game. K was hot, wet and practically begging that we fuck.

Stealing a moment to congratulate myself K looked up and met my eyes. Her fingers twisted her waistband and rolled her hipsters down to the cleft of her buttocks revealing her neat triangle of dark trimmed bush where I took over and pulled them down and off her feet as she lifted her t-shirt off so that she was now completely naked. Eagerly she grabbed my head and thrust me between her legs towards her slightly parted lips. With her thighs on my shoulders I reached up with my hands to her breasts as she lay back down and sighed that she was finally finding the end to the tease.

The first slow lick traced the full length off her parting. I was savouring victory and the sweet taste of young pussy. I lapped like a St. Bernard feeling every groove and crevice as I went, twice, three times, a dozen times, soaking up her juices onto my tongue, her body shuddering every time my tongue passed over her very flush and pierced clit.

I missed my train.



Photo: unknown
Editing: akindofintrigue


love2pleasu13 56M
6472 posts
4/12/2016 6:00 pm

good sexy photos


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