We currently have stories with more being added every day

My most favourite green eyes

Posted by: Author: Posted on: 1 comments
1 likes views Category: Sex Stories In Public Tags:

[i] About twenty pages later, I heard my neighbour's door open, realizing that she must have returned from the city council, where she worked. I did but take about ten minutes, until she, too, came out to the balcony, wearing a black t-shirt over her tight jeans. [/i]A few years ago, when I was still a student struggling to make ends meet, I lived in one of those faceless, modern apartment buildings that deface most of our cities. During summer times, I often took my reading assignments outside, taking full advantage of my deck chair. My flat was facing westward, allowing me to, quite frequently, enjoy the evening sun during the busy summer months up until our exam season, typically during the last two weeks of July. I shared the balcony with my neighbour, which initially had been separated by a plastic blinder. It was broken and from years of neglect rather unattractive, so---at some point---we decided over an evening beer we periodically enjoyed to just through it out altogether.By the third week of June 1988, the weather turned very hot, with temperatures exceeding 30?C even during the evening hours. Having grown up in Northern Europe, with weather typically being grey and rainy, I enjoyed this change in climate and continued to take my reading assignments outside. My---at the times---typical jeans-and-t-shirt student attire became increasingly relaxed. Contrary to Americans, I am not a big fan of shorts, so I read my books with only my jeans on. I have this slim, hairless, Northern European built and, despite my 1.85m height, was weighing only about 70 kilograms during my student days. In the heat (and in order to cut down on my laundry), I skipped the cotton briefs altogether, which I increasingly noticed with some delight was noted, including by my neighbour.She was a widow of about 55 years, with hear reddish hair cut rather short. She had this very "Irish" look, with red, almost orange hair, bespectacled, green eyes, and about a million freckles all over her face. Her skin showed her age, but she was self-confident enough not to hide it. I guess, her petite figure and impressively firm stomach, joint with an attractive behind, gave her the attention she needed. However, she did not really have any breasts to speak of, and typically she wore sports bras that made her chest look entirely flat. The longer the summer lasted, the more often she came outside our balcony anytime I was reading. Initially, I was a little irritated, even though I enjoyed talking to her, as the pile of unread materials did not really seem to shrink a whole lot. But I noted, too, that her wardrobe started to change, and I was particularly pleased to see her stop wearing any bras, with her nipples clearly showing through her blouses. She must have noticed my interest, as she began to offer me drinks periodically, which she brought to me, bending down in a way that allowed me to peek down her blouse. Somewhere I had heard somebody talk about "teabag tits", and while I do not know whether this is a real English term, that term exactly described her breast, crowned by a very, very pale areola and firm nipples. She knew I peeked, which I acknowledged with a appreciative smile, and continued to tease me periodically with increasingly larger d?colletages on skimpier tops. As it were, into the first week of July, I realized that I had no option but to send my pile of dirty laundry into the washing machine. I had run out of the last clean clothing item. I put on some winter clothes to bring my laundry down, but on my balcony, that was far too hot. Instead, I took a towel and wrapped it around myself, before taking my book and moving out to the balcony. About twenty pages later, I heard my neighbour's door open, realizing that she must have returned from the city council, where she worked. I did but take about ten minutes, until she, too, came out to the balcony, wearing a black t-shirt over her tight jeans. She sat down on her chair, pretty much across from me, having mixed herself a rum punch. Only a few moments later, after commenting on how hot it was, she took off her t-shirt and sat across from me---topless. Her pale and freckled skin was reflecting in the sun, and I could see her excitement by looking at her nipples. She looked directly into my eyes, with an intensity that did not fail to have an impact on me, both emotionally and physically. A towel did not hide very well the change that occurred between my legs. My neighbour noticed, winking her eye at me. I stood up, without trying to have my towel stay. She, too, got up, and---for the first time---embraced one another and kissed. She held me very tight, while our tongues appeared to be caught in a knot that did not want to come undone. She fumbled to get out of her jeans and panties, and we stood naked on the balcony in the golden evening sun, kissing, with her hands guiding my penis to slide into her. I do not recall another instance where the sensation felt more intense. I held her hands and pressed her against the wooden door, and our repressed desire soon exploded, almost concomitantly. We were both incredibly sweaty and very, very happy---and we spent the night out on our balcony drinking a bottle of delicious [i]Chianti[/i] wine, without ever bothering to get dressed again. We giggled, and we cuddled, we laughed and we teased each other. In fact, we had coffee, too, the next morning, after a night that continues to stand out as incredibly special.

Comments

1 comments -

You must be logged in to post wall comments or like a story. Please login or signup (free).

Other Stories You May Enjoy



Recommended For You