manlyslut

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▫️Hang in there baby...😇😈

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you / me / our imaginations

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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.

[manlyslut]

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.

[manlyslut]

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.

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Perfection

[manlyslut]

Barcelona hotel sauna

Jennifer recalled a time she had spent visiting a hotel sauna while on a business trip to Barcelona. Again she had been alone. Again she was restless and unfulfilled. Again she felt a heightened sense of nervousness simply venturing to a sauna alone as a woman. A little voice inside her head kept saying she was simply a woman on a business trip taking some time to relax. As if she needed to explain herself. And to who exactly did she need to explain herself?

The sauna and jacuzzi were located in the fitness studio, adjacent to the weights room. Jennifer waited patiently at the front desk. Finally the receptionist arrived, a wiry young man who appeared to be of Moroccan descent. He had a lewd look in his eyes as they spoke. As if 'he knew' the reason she was really there. Jennifer held her head up high. Poker face. He handed her a couple of white towels and she made her way into the female changing rooms.

After changing into a blue bikini, Jennifer made her way to the sauna. There was a jovial couple seated together on the top row. The pair seemed a little too comfortable in their company to the point of it almost being inappropriate. Jennifer felt like she was intruding. She sat on the lower row beside them. Soon they left and she moved up to the top row, her long white thighs resting out in front of her. It was not long before she was a woman alone in a sauna surrounded by men. A bearded man beside her and a sporty middle aged man facing her vertically on the row below. She felt the gaze of the sporty man fleetingly fall on to her long smooth shaven legs at the slightest movement that she made. This didn't make Jennifer feel uncomfortable. But she had no desire to accentuate the movement of her legs in his presence. She looked up through the windows of the sauna and saw the receptionist walk past. Again he had a smile and gave her an equally lewd look through the sauna window.

Jennifer sat still in the silence as the heat in the sauna steadily grew stronger. As she began to sweat she kept a motionless expression. This was not a sauna where conversations were to be had. After about 15 minutes, Jennifer rose from her place and left. She then made her way to the shower area. Soon she was joined by the bearded man. As she walked towards the shower cubicle he opened his towel and flashed her. Jennifer's gaze remained focussed in front of her. She didn't even take a fleeting look down to take in the view of his penis.

After showering and drying herself, Jennifer went to a recliner opposite the jacuzzi and laid down. Soon the bearded man was lying down beside her. Jennifer remained in statuesque pose, laid back on the recliner. The Moroccan receptionist then approached and said the sauna would soon be closing and they had to leave. Jennifer stood up and made her way to the female changing rooms. She was half expecting that the bearded man would follow her. The prospect left her with a mild feeling of dread. But that was the last she saw of him.

After leaving the sauna and returning to her hotel room Jennifer found herself falling prostrate on her bed. Looking up at the ceiling, she replayed the visit to the sauna in her mind. She imagined what the bearded man's cock looked like. The shape and girth of his penis. She realised that her breath had become more heavy and audible now. The afterglow of the sauna had taken on a more feverish nature. Soon her dress was in a crinkled heap on the floor beside the bed frame. Jennifer's naked form writhed furiously on the bed in the dimly lit shadows of her hotel room as she masturbated to a blissful climax.

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In private x patreon

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Island Jazz Bar

Jennifer stepped out into the empty cobbled streets. The labyrinth of walk ways would be her stage. The cloak of night her cover. On Jennifer's final approach to the Island Jazz Bar she felt a pang of self doubt. Or was it just a sense of nervousness at being a woman out late at night and alone? Jennifer was dressed in a black dress that rose above the knee and a pair of more functional dark brown sandals. If she had been with a man it might not have left her with quite the same feeling of being somewhat exposed. A sense of self consciousness made her a little more aware of her every movement as she stretched out a hand to push open the glass wooden door at the entrance. The bar was almost empty. A middle aged saxophonist standing in a raised seating area in a corner beside the bar was playing sweet melodies. The sound of the saxophone echoed inside the confines of the bar. Paintings made by local artists of the island's beaches and the old town's church hung on the walls. Jennifer took a seat at the bar.

"What can I get you this evening," asked the barman. He was a tall muscular man. His dark beard and curly hair complimented his olive skin. He had piercing dark eyes. As he spoke she felt his eyes burn into hers with an unnerving intensity.

"A glass of rioja please," replied Jennifer. The bartender poured Jennifer a slight portion to taste.

"That's fine," she said after absorbing the wine's sweet aroma on her lips and in her mouth. He poured her a full glass almost to the brim. Jennifer took her first sip. Once again she felt the bartender's eyes on her.

"Are you visiting the island," he asked.

'Yes I am,' replied Jennifer. 'I'm here for a brief escape. I love the island. It's so beautiful here.'

"We are blessed," replied the bartender.

Jennifer took out a cigarette. As she dipped into her handbag in search of a lighter the barman presented his lighter to her lips. Jennifer moved her head forward and turned her head down a little to light the cigarette in front of the lighter pointing up towards her lips. Jennifer succumbed to the pleasure of the first inhalation as plumbs of tobacco smoke engulfed her mouth.

Jennifer felt her initial nervousness subside. The ritual of drawing on the cigarette had a meditative effect. As the nervous tension began to recede, Jennifer started once again to feel a tingle of excitement. Her night's adventure had begun. All possibilities. A myriad of different scenarios. All manner of encounters. Everything seemed possible and laid out before her. Jennifer lifted the wine glass to her lips once more. The saxophonist's notes were enhancing the soothing effect a day spent worshiping the sun on the beach had had. The place was almost empty now. A couple were seated on one side of the bar. A solitary man stooped over his wine glass in another corner. Jennifer had felt a shock of electricity from her interaction with the barmen. In their brief interaction she'd felt his power. There was a hint of aggression beneath his formal tone. Jennifer glanced again towards the bar and their eyes met. She smiled at him and she sensed a glint of violence in his eyes. Jennifer took a final sip from her wine glass.

"Can I get you another one," asked the bartender.

"Thank you, please," replied Jennifer. The formality of their interaction disguised a primal animalistic edge that had taken hold in their interactions with each other.

Jennifer felt the comforting warmth of intoxication from the wine. The alcohol was an aphrodisiac. She surrendered to a further stirring in her loins as she took in the bartender's muscular frame. He really did have a powerful physique. Jennifer raised the wine glass to her lips. She was in an open and receptive mood. This made alcoholic intoxication come quicker, somewhat overcoming her natural defences and inhibitions. A friend had once said to her that wine begins the evening your friend before ending the night as your enemy. Jennifer wondered if she was teetering on the brink of something. The music had now stopped. The silence focused her mind's attention a little more on how the night would unfold. The saxophonist had metamorphosed from Music God to unremarkable portly middle aged guy. He stooped down near the raised area of the bar. The man put his golden shining saxophone back into its box before making a quiet and anonymous exit from the bar.

"So what really brings such a beautiful woman to our island alone,'" asked the bartender. Jennifer's impulse was to emit a smile of disdain for such a corny pickup line. Instead she looked back into his eyes with the realisation that their conversation had just taken on a more combative edge.

"I guess I'm on my own little adventure," she replied. "Can I have the bill now please?"

A solitary drinker interrupted them as he stumbled his way to the bar. The barmen turned to face him as he motioned that he also wanted to settle his bill for the night. The man had a crinkled, lined face and a greying receding hairline. Jennifer imagined that he was a regular at the bar who would take his solitary seat each night to once again drown his sorrows. The past failures and mistakes of his life replaying in his mind. The shattered hopes and dreams of a lost life. A wasted life. The man paid and left, leaving Jennifer and the barman alone.

The barman brought Jennifer the bill and she promptly paid before standing up from her stool. She felt the barman's eyes on her swinging hips as she walked to the door and made her exit.

Later that night, as she slipped between the sheets back in her hotel bed she felt like the barman's gaze was still somehow on her. Now he had seen her naked in all her glory. And she let her imagination yield to 'his Power'. Her gaze falling down towards his ample crutch. Thoughts of sex had burst back into her consciousness with a vengeance. Jennifer stepped off the barstool and walked slowly to 'her place' in the empty bar, now closed for everyone but 'the owner'. Falling down to her knees. 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 fantasy. Being the cock-sucking whore he knew her to be deep down. 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.

Jennifer recalled the wine bottles that were stacked in rows in front of her at the bar. 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.

Once again she was standing 'before him'. 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. She felt a hot clammy heat in her sex. She was soaking wet. In the scenario she now played out she was unable to meet his eyes any more. The feeling of his penetrating eyes on her would suffice. The skimpy black dress that she'd carefully 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 ultimate part now exposed and on display 'for him'.

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Jack Vettriano RIP

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Breathwork

Confessions of a yoga slut

I arrive at 6pm on the dot. Having left Chalf Farm tube station I cross the road and walk up the hill towards the studio. I'm momentarily tempted to take a photograph with my iPhone. As I enter the studio I'm greeted by two young women at the reception desk that I haven't met before. I will be the only man in the yoga studio this evening. I'm told the men's showers aren't working. So I will not be having a shower this evening. I go down the stairs into the basement of the men's changing rooms and change into my tight black shorts and purple T-shirt. I pick up my towel, wallet, iPhone and bottle of water and make my way up the stairs to the studio. I choose a spot in front of the mirror in the far corner. The older woman who lets her quite ample tits hang out is directly behind me again. This evening I'm doing the Ashtanga Yoga Primary Series. As I start the opening sequences I'm struck with the realisation of how hard I find this. I make sure the breathe. I breathe loudly, in and out, as I push into each posture. Soon I'm sweating and getting into the routine. I become aware of the woman next to me. She is 30-something with long dark hair, medium slim build wearing tight black yoga pants and a tank top... She starts to breathe hard too. And sometimes emits a gasp beneath her breath. Grunting like a whore. I carry on. Feeling my cock start to swell beneath my pants. I fall into wheel pose once again and give the older woman behind me a good view of my cock. Afterwards I'm genuinely exhausted and feel like my legs might even betray me. At the end I take a restful savasana. Then I hang up my mat. I pass the woman in black leggings for the final time. She gives me a kinky look as we make eye contact for the first and last time.

I proceed down the stairs to the changing rooms. I'm alone in the men's changing rooms. I strip naked. I walk up to the sink and splash some water over my face and wash my cock. I enjoy the feeling of being butt naked in the changing rooms! After splashing some water on myself I walk over to the bench and rest my foot on it and start to dry myself with a small white towel. I see the reflection of my naked body in the shining white wall. As I dry myself I have the feeling that I'm being watched. I hear some sounds from the corridor outside. I dare not peek my head around. I contemplate doing something naughty. But I don't. I get changed and make my way up the stairs. I put on my new black shoes and say goodbye to the receptionists. I catch a final glimpse of 'the helper' who would have been the woman making the noise outside in the corridor. She looks amorous. Maybe I was being watched!