This is not going to go wham bam slam like with the guy a few months ago. This girl needs to be set at ease, warm to us, connect with us on a mental, emotional level first. 

She’s over at our Chateau (our name for a one room flat in the center of the capital) for the second time. The first time we only talked. Ok, she touched you a bit, you touched each other, but you know, in safe places. After she left that first time you looked kind of flustered. In a good way. For the first time ever you actually asked me to lick your pussy. You wanted to be standing. One leg up on a chair. You were so sweet and asked if I didn’t mind. If I wanted a pillow under my knees. ‘Good idea’, I said and took one from the bed. You wanted to stay dress and lifted up your dress. You wanted to wear no underwear during this first meet-up with our next ally in amorous and passion driven carnal pursuits. When you came you pulled my hair so badly it even hurt. I loved it.

The girl is named Chloë. She’s not French, she’s all Slovak, but her mum named her after some French actress. She almost has the voice of a 12 year old girl, but she’s 26. She’s still a student at university. Asian languages, Chinese and Korean. Two more years to go. She works at a tanning salon, mornings and evenings. Her mother died young. She grew up with her father and two older brothers. She’s from a village close to Poprad. Probably not the most wealthy family background. She’s dressed well. Not tacky. A black blouse on white pants. She has two tiny dancing angels on a necklace on her neck. Looks like gold.

We’re drinking white wine. Very sweet. Spanish.

This time I definitely don’t know what to expect. What do you want to do with her? What do you want her to do with you? What is she going to be like? She seems so shy. A case of still waters run deep? She has that cute bird with broken wings thing going on.

You are sitting opposite of each other, in comfortable lounge chairs. With the coffee table in between. Our romantically branded chessboard screaming ‘make a move’.

I am sitting on the couch, like a tennis referee or what are those called? Empire?

She makes more eye contact with me than with you. I hope she is not getting the wrong idea. I don’t think so. She’s just too nervous around you to lock eyes. When you’re not looking directly at her I can see her check you out. Her eyes are tramping down your form, head to toe. If eyes could lick you’d be covered in her saliva. Perhaps you will be.

I am not so sure how to speed up this mellowly cruising train from pleasant conversation to the smutty action she’s here for.

She smells quite nice. Flowery, yet a bit acidic. Nothing can top your Heures d’absence.

She lets us know that she is indeed bisexual.

‘Like 50-50?’, you ask. You’re not always so upfront.

‘It changes. But yes, maybe it’s 50-50.’

I ask if she can imagine being in a relationship with a woman.

‘Definitely’, she answers.

‘Do you like the wine? I hope it’s not to sweet. I love sweet things’, you say.

‘It’s perfect’, she says. ‘Tastes like mango. Very good.’

We are silent for a bit staring at our wine glasses.

‘Am just gonna ask’, I venture. ‘Would you mind sitting between us?’

‘Ok, sure’, she says as if I have offered her a piece of cheese or some nuts. There’s something in her tone though… She’s brimming with nervousness. I fear she’s gonna bolt for the door at the first touch.

Something quite different happens.

She drops on the couch besides me. And you drop on the other side of her.

I realize how much she’s been wanting you. She immediately buries her head in your lap. I lift her legs up and put them on my lap.

I see her push her head against your belly. Rubbing her nose on you.

Then she turns on her back and looks up at you.

Am not entirely sure what my role is supposed to be here, but to sit here and do nothing makes me feel like a plant in a pot in the corner of the room. I massage her shins and her feet a bit.

‘Can you kiss me?, she asks you.

Bold move from a shy girl like she is.

You take a deep breath.

You are caressing her blonde hair. ‘You have nice hair’, you tell her.

She lifts her head up and undoes her pony tail for you. Shakes her hair a bit.

‘You have amazing curls’, she shoots back.

You are massaging her face with one hand. Running your finger along her eyebrows. The line of her nose. Her sort of thin, but pinkish lips.

‘You don’t want to kiss me?’, she asks in a pleading voice.

‘I do, I do’, you say. ‘Just give me a minute. We don’t have to rush.’

‘You smell nice’, she says. ‘What is the name of your perfume?’

‘Shsst, zlatka, shsst, just let me look at you’, you whisper back in a very soothing voice. It’s endearing to see.

After some time you press a kiss on her forehead. She lunges up hungry for your lips, but you pull back. She looks like a hyena who has missed her prey by an inch.

‘Can you sit on me?’, you ask.

She rolls off of us. She throws off her blouse. Revealing a black bra. Breasts somewhere at the start of the C-cup range. She straddles you. Instantly starts rubbing herself off on you through her pants. The white color accentuated by the candles we have flickering everywhere.

You put one hand around the back of her head and pull her towards you. ‘Slow down, we have time’, you say. Then you kiss her. Like you are licking the best ice cream in town.

‘Oh wow’, she goes. ‘You taste so good.’

She doesn’t know what to do with herself and can’t stay still for a second.

‘Grab my breasts’, she says in a demanding voice.

You put your beautiful hands with your endless fingers, fiery with their burgundishy – am a man, am not good with colors – nail polish on her breasts and you start massaging them. You are the master of sensual massages. ‘God, God, Goooood’, she says almost as if she is going to start sobbing. ‘I want you, I want you.’

She pushes herself forward and presses her breasts against your face. With the bra still on. She’s caressing your with her tits. Pushing your face between them.

‘Can we go to the bed?’, she asks. She sounds like she’s in pain. ‘ Please, carry me to the bed, carry me to the bed and fucking ravish me. Please. Just fucking ravish me.’

(to be continued)