It's good to have a story unfold over a long weekend, but I don't like going out on those events. I prefer common weekends and leaving Friday afternoon when people are arriving home, already thinking about dinner.
At that indefinite hour, between seven and half past eight at night, I stopped my car in front of her apartment and sent her a direct message that wouldn't allow replies or doubts: 'I'm downstairs'.
I barely knew each other from virtual chats. I knew she was beautiful, a brunette, with a Caribbean accent when speaking, despite having lived in Buenos Aires since childhood.
She knew I was ugly and old, not as thin or tall as she. But the 25-year age difference made no difference in each nocturnal chat, where we let ourselves be carried away by words, provocations, insinuations, or explicit suggestions of desire.
In one of those talks, which had already become a habit, I went all in. Despite his warnings that I shouldn't go too fast, that I should be different, that I shouldn't take anything for granted, I told him that this weekend I wanted to go to Mar del Plata, but I didn't want to go alone.
He picked up the glove and said I didn't have plans for this weekend. 'There's room in my car for you, even if you don't know how to make mate', I said. 'Provided I get to choose the music for the trip', he replied. 'Tomorrow at 5 am, I'll be on your apartment building's sidewalk', and I closed the conversation when it took him five minutes to respond with 'ok'.
Two blue streaks beside my message, but she didn't respond. I got out of the car and opened the trunk. I assumed that, like every woman, the suitcase she would bring would be as if she were moving to the coast. I was wrong, just like everything I had thought until this moment.
When I saw her, I recognized her immediately: the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. Brunette, wild curls, a body toned by extreme sports, and two surprises: barely a handbag pocket and a kiss on the corner of my lips.
I put the car in gear, the GPS with the direction and the bow heading towards the Atlantic coast, and I told him half in jest, half seriously that if we had taken off like this, before arriving to have breakfast at Atalaya I was going to fuck. My whole body went on alert when she responded carelessly 'it's not a bad idea'.
There was no traffic and the green wave of the traffic lights allowed me to advance at speed, just today, just now, when all I wanted was a good red traffic light that would stop us and I could steal my first kiss on the mouth over the weekend.
But they arrived. The first kisses, and many others, until we got on the highway to Buenos Aires-La Plata, and already night had settled in definitively.
She wore a very short skirt and a loose shirt. In the city, there was no inconvenience at all, because barely five traffic lights stopped us from walking in the entire journey, seconds that were received with wet and deep kisses, but I never went beyond third gear.
On the route, things were different because when I put in the fifth, I couldn't help but rub her bare legs. And don't even mention when I put in the sixth. It was no longer a coincidence, but a very malicious caress. A new calculation error. I was getting hard, and that motivated my Argentine adoptive Caribbean woman to place her hand on my leg, and suggestively pass her nails very close to the zipper.
I put in my maximum effort on the route avatars. I went from 130 to 100 kilometers per hour, changed lanes, and kept silent. For nothing in the world was I going to let them keep petting me, and my concentration had to be multiplied. I was debating whether to let myself be carried away by the caresses, and forget that ahead, behind, to the side, there were other cars on the route that were also going at 100 kilometers per hour. Some were much lighter, of course. But none had a companion, a beautiful woman who no longer hesitated to pet my cock above my pants.
For good luck, we arrived at Atalaya and stopped to 'take something' as an excuse.
Still a century away from reaching the beach, but I needed a coffee with cream to regain my spirits. The bathrooms were on a hallway, and there, standing, we kissed with our entire bodies, and she grabbed my ass with both hands, and I responded with the same gesture, appreciating her hard buttocks, and the caress awakened the hurricane.
In the place, there wasn't much people. In the corridor there were three doors, the gentlemen's bathroom door, the ladies' bathroom door, and a door where the cleaning supplies were. She grabbed my hand, took me into the little room, closed the door.
He kissed her mouth and sat on the edge of the table. I took advantage to run my hands over her thighs, and she, with her movements, let me know that the heat didn't allow for subtle caresses.
He got down on his knees in front of me, and looking at my eyes he said 'I'm going to do what I wanted to do more than a hundred kilometers ago but didn't want to get distracted', and then lowered the zip on my pants and pulled out my cock outside.
Of course I had the erect member, and with the wet tip of fever, and it gave me the most murderous, sensual, and hungry gaze I'd ever seen in my life, and it started to suck me deeply, pulling out sighs from me, and that's not something I do for just any old suck job.
In a flash of consciousness, I pulled her cock out of her mouth, and before she could start protesting, I lifted her onto a table that was in the corner of the little room -not without first lowering two dirty buckets with shower bath deodorant bottles, and I took off her short, opened her legs, ran her thong, and gave her a blow job like those that make history.
I played with her clitoris, I kissed it, I licked it, and I caressed it with my tongue, and also penetrated it with my tongue. I felt its flavors, and she made me know that her wave of pleasure was approaching when she pressed my face against her pussy with her hands and legs, when her stomach hardened, and when my face became soaked in all her juices.
It didn't bother me not to come. There would be time for that. We changed our clothes, each one went to the bathroom corresponding to them, and we embarked on the final part of the trip, which I will tell later.
At that indefinite hour, between seven and half past eight at night, I stopped my car in front of her apartment and sent her a direct message that wouldn't allow replies or doubts: 'I'm downstairs'.
I barely knew each other from virtual chats. I knew she was beautiful, a brunette, with a Caribbean accent when speaking, despite having lived in Buenos Aires since childhood.
She knew I was ugly and old, not as thin or tall as she. But the 25-year age difference made no difference in each nocturnal chat, where we let ourselves be carried away by words, provocations, insinuations, or explicit suggestions of desire.
In one of those talks, which had already become a habit, I went all in. Despite his warnings that I shouldn't go too fast, that I should be different, that I shouldn't take anything for granted, I told him that this weekend I wanted to go to Mar del Plata, but I didn't want to go alone.
He picked up the glove and said I didn't have plans for this weekend. 'There's room in my car for you, even if you don't know how to make mate', I said. 'Provided I get to choose the music for the trip', he replied. 'Tomorrow at 5 am, I'll be on your apartment building's sidewalk', and I closed the conversation when it took him five minutes to respond with 'ok'.
Two blue streaks beside my message, but she didn't respond. I got out of the car and opened the trunk. I assumed that, like every woman, the suitcase she would bring would be as if she were moving to the coast. I was wrong, just like everything I had thought until this moment.
When I saw her, I recognized her immediately: the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. Brunette, wild curls, a body toned by extreme sports, and two surprises: barely a handbag pocket and a kiss on the corner of my lips.
I put the car in gear, the GPS with the direction and the bow heading towards the Atlantic coast, and I told him half in jest, half seriously that if we had taken off like this, before arriving to have breakfast at Atalaya I was going to fuck. My whole body went on alert when she responded carelessly 'it's not a bad idea'.
There was no traffic and the green wave of the traffic lights allowed me to advance at speed, just today, just now, when all I wanted was a good red traffic light that would stop us and I could steal my first kiss on the mouth over the weekend.
But they arrived. The first kisses, and many others, until we got on the highway to Buenos Aires-La Plata, and already night had settled in definitively.
She wore a very short skirt and a loose shirt. In the city, there was no inconvenience at all, because barely five traffic lights stopped us from walking in the entire journey, seconds that were received with wet and deep kisses, but I never went beyond third gear.
On the route, things were different because when I put in the fifth, I couldn't help but rub her bare legs. And don't even mention when I put in the sixth. It was no longer a coincidence, but a very malicious caress. A new calculation error. I was getting hard, and that motivated my Argentine adoptive Caribbean woman to place her hand on my leg, and suggestively pass her nails very close to the zipper.
I put in my maximum effort on the route avatars. I went from 130 to 100 kilometers per hour, changed lanes, and kept silent. For nothing in the world was I going to let them keep petting me, and my concentration had to be multiplied. I was debating whether to let myself be carried away by the caresses, and forget that ahead, behind, to the side, there were other cars on the route that were also going at 100 kilometers per hour. Some were much lighter, of course. But none had a companion, a beautiful woman who no longer hesitated to pet my cock above my pants.
For good luck, we arrived at Atalaya and stopped to 'take something' as an excuse.
Still a century away from reaching the beach, but I needed a coffee with cream to regain my spirits. The bathrooms were on a hallway, and there, standing, we kissed with our entire bodies, and she grabbed my ass with both hands, and I responded with the same gesture, appreciating her hard buttocks, and the caress awakened the hurricane.
In the place, there wasn't much people. In the corridor there were three doors, the gentlemen's bathroom door, the ladies' bathroom door, and a door where the cleaning supplies were. She grabbed my hand, took me into the little room, closed the door.
He kissed her mouth and sat on the edge of the table. I took advantage to run my hands over her thighs, and she, with her movements, let me know that the heat didn't allow for subtle caresses.
He got down on his knees in front of me, and looking at my eyes he said 'I'm going to do what I wanted to do more than a hundred kilometers ago but didn't want to get distracted', and then lowered the zip on my pants and pulled out my cock outside.
Of course I had the erect member, and with the wet tip of fever, and it gave me the most murderous, sensual, and hungry gaze I'd ever seen in my life, and it started to suck me deeply, pulling out sighs from me, and that's not something I do for just any old suck job.
In a flash of consciousness, I pulled her cock out of her mouth, and before she could start protesting, I lifted her onto a table that was in the corner of the little room -not without first lowering two dirty buckets with shower bath deodorant bottles, and I took off her short, opened her legs, ran her thong, and gave her a blow job like those that make history.
I played with her clitoris, I kissed it, I licked it, and I caressed it with my tongue, and also penetrated it with my tongue. I felt its flavors, and she made me know that her wave of pleasure was approaching when she pressed my face against her pussy with her hands and legs, when her stomach hardened, and when my face became soaked in all her juices.
It didn't bother me not to come. There would be time for that. We changed our clothes, each one went to the bathroom corresponding to them, and we embarked on the final part of the trip, which I will tell later.
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