manlyslut

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slut

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Aldo Bahamonde - Eva en el espejo (2002)

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Finally

#submission

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Desire

Pudeur

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Her bliss

👀

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Waiting

#obdeientslut

Waiting to be served

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Service

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▫️Hang in there baby...😇😈

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you / me / our imaginations

patreon

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Jennifer goes down

It was closing time. "Well, looks like you're the final customer tonight. I'm going to close the bar soon. Usually at this time I ask customers to leave,' said the barmen with a smile.

'You haven't even asked my name,' replied Jennifer.

'Please tell me the name of the beautiful woman I have the pleasure of serving this evening,' said the barmen.

'Jennifer, and you?' 'Fernando.' 'Have you always been a barmen,' Jennifer asked. 'I own this place. And what it is that you do?' 'I'm an analyst at a bank in London,' replied Jennifer. 'I spend my days

looking at numbers on a screen and tell people which companies they should buy and sell.'

The bar owner looked back at her impassively. 'I can tell you hate your job,' he said. 'You're working for that bank like a slave. You'd be so much happier being my slave,' he added with a smile.

'What do you mean?' asked Jennifer.

'You could be one of my slaves. One of the girls that work for me here behind the bar,'' he said still smiling.

'How would I qualify to become one of your, girls?' asked Jennifer. She'd meant to ask the question with a mocking tone but she felt that the way she'd said it had let the words fall a little flat.

'Like for any job. You'd have to be interviewed; for the position.' said the bar owner.

Jennifer momentarily cast her gaze down towards his ample crutch. Thoughts of sex had burst back into her consciousness with a vengeance. The danger of being a woman alone with a stranger -- a bigger more physically powerful stranger -- didn't seem to matter at all any more. Jennifer fleetingly imagined herself stepping off the barstool, walking slowly to her place be- hind the bar. Falling down to her knees below the uneducated macho bar owner. Unbuttoning his belt. Pulling down his zipper and pants. Revealing his thick man shaft. His manhood poking upwards in front of her face. Breathing in the heavenly aroma of his pre-cum semen. Fulfilling his misogynistic fanta- sy. Being the cock-sucking whore he knew her to be all along. Nothing more than the owner of sweet pouting lips that were made to suck cock. Suck his cock. Fulfilling her purpose down on her knees. The inevitable surrender as she willingly defiled her dignity in front of watching his eyes. Giving of herself to him completely for his pleasure.

The bar owner moved away and started putting the assorted stools back on to the tables. Jennifer let him undertake the ritual of closing the bar for the evening. After putting all the bar stools on the tables he set about washing the glasses under a metallic sink under the other side of the bar. All this was done in silence. He then closed the front door. The late night drink had be- come a lock-in.

Jennifer looked vacantly at the wine bottles stacked in rows in front of her. She imagined all the varieties of grape and the different wines on offer. Sweet, dry, full bodied. Her thoughts then returned to sex. The different cocks she'd sucked. The taste of semen. Some semen was saltier than others. She wondered what the bar owner's semen tasted like.

'I've met so many women like you,' said the bar owner. Jennifer looked up as he again stood in front of her.

'They pretend to themselves that they are free. When really they spend their days with people they can't stand doing things they hate. Working all hours on mind-numbingly boring or soulless tasks. Putting on pretty business clothes and working out all the time in the fitness studio to stay sexy when they haven't been fucked properly in months. I meet women like this all the time. They come here from everywhere. London, Paris, Munich. Its all the same.'

'So working for you as a barmaid here is the answer,' said Jennifer, return- ing his smile. 'All these women should leave their well-paid drops and dress up nice and pretty for you to work behind your bar. Perhaps you should have an extension built here for all these beautiful sexually frustrated women just desperate to work here and serve customers. And of course, serve you too.'

'I like you for your sense of humour,' replied the bar owner. 'But I also like you because I know you're different from all these other women. The women who come here for a few days of sunshine before returning to their dismal lives. I know you want more. No one is more of a slave than those who think themselves free without being so. Isn't that true? That's why you stepped in here tonight isn't it? You've finally figured out your slavedom and want to be free.'

'As advertisements for bar jobs go, that's quite a sell,' replied Jennifer. She smiled back trying to pretend to herself that she was speaking to yet an- other macho fool. Yet deep down she knew his words had arrested some im- pact.

'I'd like to begin the interview with you standing. Come on. Up off the chair,' said the bar owner.

Jennifer gazed back into his eyes with a momentary look of disbelief. His unabashed suggestion had left her speechless.

Jennifer then felt herself slowly standing in compliance. Momentarily she had the sense of telling herself that she wasn't about to 'obey'. That she was just standing to leave. Or she'd misheard what he'd said moments before. Nevertheless, slowly she felt her hind legs straightening as she self-conscious- ly stepped off the bar stool. Jennifer felt her heart beating faster as she stood in front of him. It had been effortless for him. To get her to do it.

'Tell me why you'd be so good in the role,' said the bar owner.

Jennifer could feel that she'd started to sweat. Her armpits had wettened. A bead of sweet started to roll down her neck towards her cleavage. The bar owner slowly eyed her up and down. Jennifer felt as if he'd already in some way assumed ownership over her. And that she'd willingly let herself suc- comb. Standing there she was his sex object. She felt a hot clammy heat in her sex. She was soaking wet. After the pair again resumed eye contact Jen- nifer felt her earlier defiance and shades of contempt drifting away. Not a word had been spoken. But her eyes began to reveal full submission. Submis- sion to his will. Jennifer's pupils were fully diluted. The dress that she'd care- fully selected in her hotel room was falling on to the bar room floor. Her bra and panties followed. Now she was standing naked in front of him. Her ulti- mate sexual parts were on display. For his inspection. No longer able to meet his stare any more after this final act of submission. Jennifer felt her her gaze dropping down to the bar room floor. She hadn't even put up a fight.

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Charli's class

She appears to me after the class. Her face is Angelic, framed by her flowing blonde locks. For some reason I notice her armpits are perfectly shaven. As if her body is perfection. I say I haven't been to class for a while. I've put on a little bit of weight. She acknowledges what I've said in a mysterious way. Our eyes meet. When I say goodbye at the end our eyes meet again. Almost as if an unspoken proposal has been made between us.

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Her feet...

She's on the matt in front of me. She is wearing a tight green tank top and long baggy green yoga pants. She has a taught skinny lean physique and has curly mousy blonde hair. Her body is ornamented with some thin green tattoos. One just barely visable on her hips, suggesting it snakes down further to her hidden secret places. Her long thin legs aren't shaved, displaying feint golden hairs. She has gorgeous dark golden hairy armpits.

The back of her matt is close to the front of mine. As we go through the asanas she stretches out her long legs behind her until they almost touch my face. I can actually imagine her kicking me in the face. This doesn't peturb me. Her long sweaty feet that have walked the yoga room floor are edging closer to my face and lips. I permit myself to touch her just twice. Once while her foot is splayed on the ground in front of me. The other when she stretches her foot back vertically behind her in Virabhadrasana III. Both times I glance her foot with my forehead. I would much prefer it to be my lips. I'm such a slut!

I recalled a time when I joined a threesome in a sex club in Berlin. My attention was purely on the woman's feet as the man finger fucked her soaking wet hole. Afterwards later in the night she beackoned me over to the bar and introduced me to a German guy who had his huge cock out naked and exposed. Of course she wanted me to suck him off on the bar stool. Instead I kept my exclusive attention on her. Massarging her body through the course of the night.

Back to the London yoga studio

Afterwards we leave at the same time and I engage the yoga girl in a fleeting conversation. She's a young American woman. She comes to any class when she can come. There is an undercurrent as we converse. We both know what's happened between us. She then says her goodbye and walks up the hill. I leave her. I'm such a slut.

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Ogni Donna cambia a seconda del uomo che ha di fronte .Ci sono uomini che ti limitano e altri che i limiti te li tolgono.