I was driving through the countryside with a friend of mine, George, by name. Now George, while being a very nice chap with a nice line in charm and an attraction to women, has one fatal flaw. He looks like a certain well known film star.
It can really irritate him when people come up and ask for autographs, but he’s finally figured out a solution. He just signs whatever they push at him with the words ‘I am not who you think I am’. By the time they decipher his writing, he’s gone.
You’re probably wondering why I’ve brought the matter up. It’s like this. We were feeling peckish and so we pulled up at this country café. It was too late for lunch and too early for most people to want afternoon tea, so by chance we were the only customers in the café.
The café had an Asian theme, Japanese I think, and the hostess was Asian and dressed in a kimono. She was quite a lovely woman, petite and with that ageless Japanese look that put her at somewhere between twenty and fifty.
So much for Japanese inscrutability. She recognised George as his alter ego as soon as we walked in, and her eyes went very wide. Before she could say anything, I chipped in.
“Good afternoon,” I said pleasantly. “I’m John and this is George Brown. Would it be possible for us to have a table, please.”
I lay some heavy emphasis on the George Brown, looking firmly at the woman to make sure she got the message. She did.
She was almost bowing as she ushered us to a table and fetched menus.
George was giving me the old fish-eye, demanding to know what the hell I was doing.
“Damnit,” he said. “The way you introduced me sounded so fake that she’s now convinced that she’s got a film star in her café.”
“True,” I said, unrepentant, “and I bet we get superb service while we’re here.”
“You, Johnny boy, have an evil turn of mind,” I was informed.
I laughed and took a menu, and then we ordered out late lunch.
I was right. The service was impeccable. The woman couldn’t do enough for us, hovering over us obsequiously, desperate that everything should go well. I saw a pretty young lass stick her head out of the kitchen door to give us the once over. She blushed and withdrew when I smiled and nodded to her.
Being two healthy young men we naturally discussed the physical attributes of the woman serving us. She really was quite lovely in that timeless Asian manner, and so eager to serve. After observing her for a while I’d have put her age somewhere in the thirties, but I could have been wrong.
George made the comment that he wouldn’t kick her out of his bed, and I laughed.
“The way she’s acting, why don’t you just suggest she lie down on the floor next to the table. Bet you ten bucks she’ll do so.”
George laughed at that.
“More likely to get my face slapped,” he said.
I was shocked. “Slap the face of you know who?” I gasped. “Believe me, it’ll never happen. The most that will happen will be that she’ll blush and refuse. Try it. Ten bucks on it.”
George bahçelievler escort ignored my challenge, but he continued to look the woman over as she moved around. Eventually she came over and asked if there was anything else and George turned on that charming smile of his.
“Well, yes,” he said, his voice as smooth as syrup. “Would you be so kind as to lay down on the floor here.” He indicated the passage next to the table.
The woman blushed, looked at George, looked at the floor again and then back at George. For a moment I thought she was going to scurry back to the counter, but to my surprise she actually sank down and laid on the floor.
I heard her say, “What if my daughter should come out?” and so I hastened to reassure her.
“I’ll go and keep her company for a little while,” I said. “Compliment her on her cooking and things like that.”
I watched for a moment as George settled down next to the hostess, tugging at her obi. The knot slipped open and then George was spreading the kimono, and I will say that that woman had an excellent figure and a taste for minute lacy underwear. I rose and headed for the kitchen while George was drawing the panties down.
In the kitchen was the young lady I’d seen peeking out earlier. She didn’t believe in kimonos it appeared, being dressed in a blouse and skirt. She blushed when I came in, but politely asked how she could help.
“Your mother is helping out, ah, George,” I said. “She said I should come out here and you would help me.”
“Oh,” she said, trying to look past me to see what was going on. “Um, is that really..? She stated to say, but I broke in quickly.
“He’s a friend of mine who goes by the name of George Brown, right now. OK?”
She nodded, content. ‘George Brown’ was in their café.
“What sort of help is my mother giving Mister Brown,” she now asked, “and how can I help you?”
“To answer both your questions,” I said, “like this.”
I started undoing the buttons on her blouse. I had undone three before she managed to protect the rest, demanding to know what I thought I was doing.
“I was undressing you,” I explained reasonably. “I can’t expect you to make love to me while you’re still wearing your clothes.”
She flushed at that. “You can’t,” she said, “and what has that to do with my mother.”
“You wanted to know what she was doing for George,” I pointed out.
“My mother?” she exclaimed, shocked. “But she’s old. She doesn’t do things like that.”
“Apparently, when someone like George asks, she does. She also told me to come and see you.”
I now moved the young woman’s hands aside and continued undoing her buttons. By the time she had recovered from her shock her blouse was open, showing a very nice pair of breasts, in a bra that looked like a match for her mothers. Very lacy and barely there.
“What’s your name?” I asked. I’ve always thought it the height of bad manners to have sex with someone without asking their name.
“Tanika,” bahçeşehir escort she told me, “and leave my buttons alone.”
“You leave them alone,” I said, pushing her hand gently away from where she was trying to refasten them.
My other hand in the meantime had flicked open the button at the waist of her skirt and flicked down her zip. To Tanika’s consternation, her skirt promptly heard the call of gravity and slithered down to the floor.
I took the collar of Tanika’s blouse and pulled it apart and pushed back and down, peeling her blouse off, so that she was now standing in bra and panties, flapping her hands and trying to work out what to do next to stop me.
The interesting thing I found about stripping Tanika was that she wasn’t trying to fight me, but was rather arguing about whether I should do this or not.
Apparently Tanika thought she should protect her bra as her hands covered her breasts. That was OK by me as it permitted me to take hold of her panties and slide them down. Unlike her mother, Tanika shaved I noticed.
With her panties gone, Tanika gave a squeak and dropped her hands. I didn’t bother to try to undo her bra, but just grabbed the sides of it and lifted so that the cups slip up and over her breasts, leaving them to bob in freedom.
“Lift your arms,” I commanded, and when she did I continued to lift the bra up and off, leaving Tanika completely nude. (Sandals didn’t count.)
Now that Tanika was naked I picked her up and sat her on the kitchen bench. It was going to be a very nice height, I decided.
Tanika was still telling me how I shouldn’t be doing this, but her resistance quotient seemed to be zero. I pushed her hands onto the bench behind her, making her lean back a little, presenting her breasts to my mouth.
And very tasty breasts I found them as I started to kiss and taste them, moving from one to the other and back again. Tanika’s nipples were quickly erect, practically begging to be sucked, and I was happy to oblige.
While my mouth was occupied, my hands weren’t idle. I had moved her knees apart and was now standing between them while my hands started teaching her pussy what I wanted. I was stroking her in time to the kisses and tasting of her breasts, feeling her nether lips swelling under me, moving apart for me.
My fingers darted between those lovely folds, exploring what was within. A slow stroke across her clitoris had her writhing against my hand, and a careful check showed no hymen. I pushed a finger deeper into her vagina, warning her of pleasures yet to come.
She was hot and wet and unresisting. I took a step back so that she could see what I was doing, which was undoing my trousers and letting them drop. My underpants followed, showing her that I was ready to pay her the ultimate complement, and her eyes watched as I slowly moved my erection between her legs and pressed against her pussy.
“Now?” I asked.
“What if I say no?” Tanika whispered.
“Then I bakırköy anal yapan escort will be very disappointed,” I told her, “and probably be a real grouch for the rest of the day, but I would accept it.”
Tanika stared at me, and then looked down at where I was pressed against her. She brought one hand around and reached down and closed it around my erection, just feeling the size and warmth of it. She ran her hand up it to where it was pressing against her, and her fingers gently spread her lips in front of me.
Very quietly, she said, “OK, go.”
So I did, moving slowly but steadily into her, hearing her take a breath as I came in and seeming to continue breathing in until I was all the way inside. Then she let her breath out with a rush and seemed to collapse forward around my cock, clasping it within her.
Now that things had progressed this far, I saw no benefit in delay. I started moving forcefully against Tanika, driving deeper into her and then relaxing. Tanika just sat on the counter for the first few moments, letting it happen to her, observing more than participating, watching my cock slide in and out of her pussy.
I could hear her breathing start to come faster, as she watched and felt me taking her. She seemed to reach a crisis point, leaned towards me and threw her arms around me while her legs clasped around my waist.
From that point on she was moving with me, no longer an observer but a willing participant, striving to take and give pleasure in the most basic way possible.
We melded together, a single being, with pleasure our sole purpose for being. We swayed back and forth, with me using the counter top to give the backstop I needed to hold Tanika still while I drove into her.
It wasn’t long before I could hear Tanika starting to make little squeaking sounds of pleasure. As they grew louder into soft squeals as the friction escalated, I thought it wise to kiss her, swallowing the sounds.
It was probably one of the smarter things I’ve done, as very soon Tanika was screaming as her orgasm hit her. She must, I though, be incredibly sensitive to come this fast. However, now that she had come, I was released of any obligation to delay, and I rammed home with a vengeance, finally spilling my seed.
At about the time I heard Tanika scream, I also heard a squeal from the main café, and I thought it safe to assume that George and his friend had finished their entertainment. Deeming it unwise to be caught with my dick in the daughter when Mummy came back, I withdrew and hitched up my trousers.
Planting a final kiss on Tanika’s mouth I headed back to the eating area, finding George settling the bill with a generous tip. (I’d already left a tip in Tanika’s blouse pocket that I thought she might appreciate.)
As the Hostess headed towards the kitchen I hustled George out the front door. Time we were on our way in my opinion. As we left I heard a loud spate of Japanese issuing from the kitchen. Apparently Tanika hadn’t managed to get dressed in time. I didn’t understand what the mother said, but Tanika’s reply came through loud and clear.
“I was just doing what you told him I’d do when you sent him out to me. The same thing that you were doing with George.”
Being discreet types, George and I departed. We were not so insensitive as to listen in on a family argument.