MissGreenn

"A married woman looking for a discreet man to fulfill her fantasy". The title said. The publication said inside: "I am a woman in her forties who wants to experience what it is like to be with another man than my husband, with a serious and respectful man." To which I replied: "Hello, my name is Luis, a 23-year-old man, married. I never had any other experience in my life than with my wife. I saw your ad and I was interested. I offer exactly what I ask, discretion, seriousness and respect for my personal life, I just want to know what it is like to be with another woman without it affecting my life and that is the same thing I offer. ' After a few days and browsing the site, I found an answer from this woman who, out of respect, I will call R. 'Hello, good afternoon, it was a great surprise to receive your answer and I left you a contact phone. number, you can call me between 9:00 and 14:00 to inquire about card reading and I will know it's you.' The next day I was preparing to call her, we had some long and interesting discussions over the following days and when she felt comfortable she asked me: Do you still want to meet? To which I replied: of course, at that time I wondered how you like women, and I replied that physical appearance for me is a determining factor and that the conversations we had made me see that she was an excellent woman.. She immediately replied: I am 45 years old, I have black Chinese hair, I am tall with a big chest and a generous waist. What I answered. I like it, I'll have more of you to caress and love. And we agree on the place and the date. A few days later, I arrived at the bridge he pointed out, on the ring road, waiting anxiously and nervously for the green van in which she would arrive.. Wait and wait, it took a little longer than expected, but finally it happened. I approached the truck and asked, between anxious and fearful, Luis? Yes. I answered, which he answered with a smile. We headed to his house a few minutes from where we met, he invited me to his house, took me to the studio where he proposed me and served me a cup of coffee. We talked a little to break the ice and get rid of the sadness and anxiety, before getting rid of the rest of our strange façades.

I always wondered why there is no literary tradition in Paraguay. We cannot therefore refer to the novel of the years 50, 60, 70.. This lack, I suppose, is due to the fact that we are too solemn and our novels are history books in which all the characters are military heroes that they won a thousand battles, even if the reality was different. I cannot ignore the isolated efforts of some women, as well as the results of literary workshops, who publish their production with great personal effort. However, I don’t know of any rescue work of works by women who tell stories. In reality, seeing women in all fields is a very recent thing, and literature has not escaped it.. An example is the effort of some important women immersed in the darkness of anonymity, saved thanks to the research of Line Bareiro, Clide Soto and Mary Monte, Alquimistas. And it is even more difficult to see them when literature attempts, as in Chiquita Barreto's stories, to paint the characters clearly, revealing their emotions and sensuality. Ana Iris Chávez always told me that Paraguayan women do not write novels, because readers always have them as protagonists and if she appears a little bold, they begin to look at her differently and dive into her private life.

In this search, my eyes found something dazzling, perhaps the most attractive man I have ever seen, he exuded sensuality everywhere. She wore a blue jacket on her shoulders, a wide cream blouse, which showed the great source of pleasure that was there, the skirt matching the jacket fitted her well.. Her legs modeled with crossed white stockings, it was a glow that blinded my eyes for a few moments. After that I looked at her hair, her medium-long coppery hair, her brown eyes like a La Mancha sunset, I finally reached her mouth, her thick and fleshy lips, an ideal mouth to kiss.. While I was trying to figure out how old he must be, I noticed that he was looking at me, my heart missed a beat, my stomach turned over and the palms of my hands began to sweat, just at that moment I winked at him. I was a reflex, I would never have done it consciously, she saw it and turned her head away. I sighed, the overwhelming disappeared. I again examined her thoroughly, she must have been about 30 years old, this woman attracted me powerfully, my cock had fallen in love with her, she was starting to grow when she looked at me again, this time I supported her look, I Having liked this game, she started playing with her ring, a gold ring in which her finger would go in and out repeatedly. It was too much for my feverish mind, my jeans didn't allow my other self to expand anymore. Suddenly he got up, he was heading towards the exit door, there was no doubt he was about to get off at the next stop, I still had 10 minutes of bus to university. The bus stopped, the doors opened loudly, I slowly walked down the stairs, my eyes did not leave her hips. The bus closed the doors, she was moving away, suddenly a voice shouted "WATCH! -to the driver- "Get off! ".. It was my voice, I couldn't let those butts free, the doors opened again as I ran to them. It was clear that that afternoon, my lower abdomen dominated my being.

If I kiss you, will you forgive me? -It surprised me, so I couldn't help but say -Okay. Then she approached me who was sitting on the couch and, raising a little the tight skirt she was wearing, she sat on me putting one leg on each side, and he began to hug and kiss me.. I let her take the initiative, because I no longer dared to do anything that would bother her, she kissed me furious, she put her tongue in, and from time to time she kissed me all over the face and in the neck, so when I couldn't stop, she would kiss me again.. But I put my hands on her buttocks again, this time under her skirt, which had risen to her waist because of the agitation.. When I saw she said nothing, I dared put my hands underneath. His panties. I was trying to touch her directly, she said nothing, until one of the times it came to my mind to put the tip of my finger in her ass, at that moment I saw that she was going to protest so I quickly took it and then she, without saying anything, continued to kiss me but I noticed that it was more I felt her pussy more intense than before, so I decided to repeat the operation a few more times and I always did the same thing, when I was going to protest, I removed and then she said nothing, so I decided I took a step further, and putting a hand in front of me I dared to touch her pussy, she was completely I started to masturbate her slowly, she was moaning but at the same time protesting by saying to me: – Please don't do that to me, just kiss us - But why, you don't like it? – I love it, but I don’t want to cheat on my husband. I continued to touch her clitoris, and I put my free hand under her blouse looking for her nipples, which seemed about to burst so hard they were, until I managed to lift her blouse and suck them directly.. his resistance stopped, leaning a little back, he let me do it until he started to convulse completely because of the orgasm he felt, then I asked him: – Since when have you not fucked with your husband? – For more than two months. – And when you do it with him, are you satisfied? – No, I never cummed while fucking him, I always had to end up fucking myself to be able to cum. He only knows how to take over until he cums, and then he doesn't want to know anything else.

The names I will use in my story are not real for personal reasons, but the story is real. The story started with one of my friends who started dating one of her neighbors, a little girl about 19 years old with a pretty face and a scandalous body. We all envy her because she is totally in love with him even though my friend. It's not.. My friend rarely gets out of the car because he drinks, so it's up to us to pick him up at his house when we meet for a drink. Almost every time we come to pick him up, he takes the dog so we did. to wait for him at the door of his urbanization until he has finished walking through it. While we have crazy ideas about what the night is going to be like, we see a lady who, despite her forty-something appearance, looks in very good shape.. She measures about 1.70, with hair to the shoulders, a blouse with a neckline but without showing too much, skirts above the knees and heels that give her legs that make you want to get lost in it. We were all impressed to see her. she came in through my friend's door, and as soon as my friend Carlos got out, she asked who this piece of woman was.. The woman in question was the mother of the girl he was fucking, and in addition she was watching my friend without knowing that he was already dating my friend, to which we all told him to try to sleep with both of them.. Of them. At the same time he would be a hero for us. He laughed at us and told us we were crazy and so we went to burn the night of Madrid. The thing with the mature woman stayed there. A few days later, some friends and I had to go to her house to recover the money she owed us for some birthdays and the woman presented herself with her little daughter this time, she was not in heels but in leggings and sneakers. This woman was not normal for her age, you could say that she went to the gym almost every day and did a lot of sports. I greeted my friend as usual, but when she looked at us, she just stared. my eyes, which I didn't know what to do and I looked at her like a fool. She hypnotized me that night, she owned my fantasies, I had to masturbate two or three times to have her. out of my head that night.

In this cosmic mixer that the world has become. His lips get closer to mine. I hear it: the bird chirping. Some of those who existed there said it's the train that whistles, but no, it's the big bird that quacks. Her lips return the fluid that I lose, transfer it from my crotch to my mouth, to avoid the dryness petrificing me. The same train disappears. Now it's me who breaks the glass at 300 hours, the one who flies with wings, the one who carries on my chest the snow crow in a vest, who tickles my nipples between the tip of his beak. Without ceasing to transfer my waters. It's a fleet.. I've broken the wall of sound. The crow with long claws puts a nail in the center of the world, there between my legs. It won't be able to collect all the water. He won't be able to. With your nail, write there the name of the babbling, the sound where the sound no longer attracts us, where there are no trees saying goodbye, where you get nowhere, but where you go, where I run with the snowy crow. I scream with pleasure, but no sound is heard. The Guadalajara. The train stop gets me out of my daydream just in time to see how the ripped jeans embraces his buttocks, when he retrieves his suitcase and gets off the train without turning around. His boots, one of which touched me, walk firmly on the sidewalk. There is no one left right in front of me, only to my left an old woman, who looks at me with a face of understanding and sympathy, as if she had participated in my journey.. It looks like he wants to tell me something, but he doesn't say it, he just makes an incomprehensible sound. A sort of crow's cry, when I think sometimes a simple touch is the most powerful sex story.

In this cosmic mixer that the world has become. His lips get closer to mine. I hear it: the bird chirping. Some of those who existed there said it's the train that whistles, but no, it's the big bird that quacks. Her lips return the fluid that I lose, transfer it from my crotch to my mouth, to avoid the dryness petrificing me. The same train disappears. Now it's me who breaks the glass at 300 hours, the one who flies with wings, the one who carries on my chest the snow crow in a vest, who tickles my nipples between the tip of his beak. Without ceasing to transfer my waters. It's a fleet.. I've broken the wall of sound. The crow with long claws puts a claw in the center of the world, there between my legs. It won't be able to collect all the water. He won't be able to. With your fingernail write there the name of the babble, the sound where the sound no longer appeals to us, where there are no trees saying goodbye, where you get nowhere, but where you go, where I run with the snowy crow Mischievous. I scream with pleasure, but no sound is heard. The Guadalajara. The train stop gets me out of my daydream just in time to see how the ripped jeans embraces his buttocks, when he retrieves his suitcase and gets off the train without turning around. His boots, one of which touched me, walk firmly on the sidewalk. There is no one left right in front of me, only to my left an old woman, who looks at me with a face of understanding and sympathy, as if she had participated in my journey.. It looks like he wants to tell me something, but he doesn't say it, he just makes an incomprehensible sound. A sort of crow's cry, when I think sometimes a simple touch is the most powerful sex story.

After two or three days I started working and she came to open the place for me and stayed with me until the end of the day, as she decorated it personally, so we spent many hours together, she talked a lot and was very kind. , So we quickly became good friends.. I was excited all day watching her every time she bent over and showed me that ass in all its glory, and even though I had never been unfaithful to my girlfriend, on the other hand I had always dreamed of doing it with a woman much older than me, and this woman realized all my dreams. I have a lot of fantasies, so I decided to try something with her, I knew it was going to be difficult because she said she was very in love with her husband, but I have a theory that with a good strategy, with a lot of attention and by dedicating a lot of time to her, all fantasies can be fulfilled. women end up giving in, in other words, if you want to fuck them, you have to flirt with her but without going straight to the point, that is, try to make her fall in love with you. Everything went very well, but once the work was done, because of the lack of some details, I had the unlucky to fall from the ladder I was on and break my foot. She took me to the hospital and stayed with me until they put a plaster on her, then she took me home, which was above the flower shop.. From then on, she came to visit me every day, I think she felt guilty in some way for what had happened to me, and since I live alone and my girlfriend was studying her degree in town, she decided to do my homework. .the house until I feel better. Every time she came, she kissed me on the cheek and I tried to kiss her as close as possible to the lips, and while she was at home, I was constantly excited and thought about what to do to fuck her. When I had recovered a little and I could put my foot on the ground to walk, I went down to her because I was very bored at home and so we kept company, when she saw me, she was very happy and told me that I always go down with her. One day, while we were discussing inside the store because there was no one at that time, a couple stopped in front of the window and began kissing passionately in front of the window, then she made the following confession: for me.

Betty is the manager of the salon, a blonde with short hair, always covered by a cap, a white overalls up to the waist and leggings almost always tight and bright colors. She is about 55 years old, measures 1.65 meters, she is very nice and pleasant to be around. Your daughter will be about 30 or 35 years old, much taller, brown hair, same overalls and same cap, but usually a pretty tight jeans that shows a nice tail. Like the mother, friendly and excellent treatment. For health reasons, I had to make a trip to La Plata (headquarters of my social work, looking for authorizations for complex studies, which I would carry out in this same city to reduce costs.). Sunday at 11pm, the bus was supposed to leave and arrive at 7am on Monday, enough time to finish the procedures in the morning and pick up the afternoon appointments in the clinics that I was assigned. It was 10:15 pm Sunday, I arrived at the bus station, ready to check in my luggage and wait for the departure. I was on the dock smoking a cigarette when I saw Betty, her daughter, a man of her age and a girl of 5 years or less, approaching the same bus. They are doing the same procedure as I am, and they are preparing to wait for the boarding order. 10 minutes before departure, the terminal voice announces that passengers heading to La Plata on the 23-hour Plusmar service must board. I watch some goodbyes as I get on the bus, hand the ticket to the driver and find my seat at the back of the unit. Once I'm there, I see Betty stand up and she's heading to the same area. Betty: Hello, how are you? I see that we will be travel companions. Are you going to La Plata? Alejo: yes, to do some formalities at IOMA and some medical studies. There they solve everything faster and usually free of charge. Betty: what a coincidence, I travel for this same subject. This is my first time and I don't really know where and how to do it. Alejo: If you want I can accompany you, we go to the same place and it's not my first time. Betty: Great, it will be very useful to me.

Travelling by train has always been a pleasure for me, an intimate moment, the possibility of being alone with myself and letting my mind wander, reading or listening to other people's conversations, stretching my legs, turning on my side or yawning when I wake up. I want to, without anyone seeing me, and if I have someone next to me, I turn to the window and I see a deformed wire that is supposed to be trees. I disconnect, and I can keep my phone on, I feel like I'm completely cut off from the world during the trip. There were three of us, but among the other two companions, I noticed only one. This man wore a blue shirt and a beautiful striped vest. His half-raven hair, somewhat curled, gave him a playful and juvenile look, nuanced by a few gray hairs that, like fine snowflakes, impertinently dotted his hair.. He carried a notebook in which he made some notes and, from time to time, he raised his head to look out the window. Probably to think for a moment about what I was going to write. Meanwhile, I lowered my eyes to see, as someone who had no intention, what was the situation in the space that separated us, in order to lay comfortably without disturbing anyone.. He had to be big, because his endless legs invaded my space. I didn't say anything. He wore Belstaff boots and ripped jeans. I immediately loved his cool look of mature man. I slightly spread my legs.

It all starts in the following way, I am a tall, brown, well-built boy and marked by the sequels of the exercise, quite mischievous in my eyes, very gesticulating and this is not to brag about but I do not make an exception to this rule.. Since I was 21 I have lived adventures with older women, only by chance of life and many other times because I had sought it, I will tell you this last relationship I had. I am currently 28 years old and she is 41 years old, she is a woman of Colombian origin, she loves to take care of herself so much that she woke up with makeup, enhanced breasts, soft legs, marked by her daily exercises, tanned skin since she loves to be at the beach, in Finally a woman in all her qualities, very coquettish, it should be emphasized. It all started years ago, I lived in Cali, Colombia, and we only greeted each other via Facebook, because she and I were the groom boys at the wedding of one of my best friends who married one of her nieces (the day of the couple was wearing animal print panties) that made me crack and make her great love. That day nothing happened since I was with my friends and they with their family, at that time neither of us was aware of the other, after a while while we were already together, she confessed to me that that day she wanted to dance salsa with me. Sorry, I didn't tell you that my family is also Colombian and they come from Cali.

Apparently, except in distant stories or articles, in real life, on a daily basis, this type of people does not exist. This leads me to think that we live in a great hypocrisy that hides our fantasies, which is why I refuse to think that reality surpasses anything, because this "nothing" is not so strange that it should surprise anyone. I will tell this story by changing only the names: I wouldn't mind saying them, but this is not the time yet. For the moment I am still with my husband and family and for now I have to avoid them from separating. I am a 32 year old woman, very attached to her body. My breasts are big and firm after my two operations, serum, no silicone, they look like two balls, nice and beautiful to look at. Very thin body line, with a flat belly type Rosario Flores. I am very proud of her, especially after two births. My hips are not as wide as I would like, play boy woman type, but rather podium model type. My buttocks and legs tend to get loose, but I manage to fight them with weights and aerobics, to eventually be pretty both. Of course, I had some stretch marks on my buttocks after giving birth, although the red color referred to a discreet flesh and not visible if you don't look at it well. I am a brunette with long hair and well groomed, more attractive than pretty face, not beautiful but pretty nevertheless. I am a beautiful woman who would have liked to be born blonde and tall, with a guy like Bimba Bose or Naomi Campbell. I mean big and elegant (well, I have that one, I was a model even if I didn't succeed precisely because of my size), with small and round breasts. Mine were small but being small, I think I needed good breasts to stand out (at that time I was a go-go artist and later a stripper)).