My International Lover

The brisk, dawn air bit through the opened window revealing the newness of the day. Already, we had made love twice, once before the sun rose, and I felt an excited energy fueled further by the espresso. It was early enough that a blanket of snow still coated the streets, yet uncrossed by the morning traffic. The sun shown the morning’s dew thawing on the steps of the Sprüngli Confiserie just across the way and I was reminded just how far away from home I had traveled to see him.

My skin was sweetly moist, bare beneath the plush, white robe monogrammed with the hotel’s initials. We had showered together, as we always did, hungrily sliding our hands all over each other. There was always a glorious climax, perhaps ignited by the remote anonymity of the various international cities wherever we met. Almost roughly, he grasped my long, dark hair while massaging the roundness of my ass with sweet almond soap. As the water trickled quietly down my neck, our lips met from the side with hot wetness and he pushed into me from behind. The steam of the shower lent a different feeling to his shaft as he forced into me first with a little resistance due to the slipperiness of the water until his cock met with warm honey between my legs and then slid smoothly, rhythmically, forth and back.

His thrust was great and skillful, the sign of a gentleman who had developed wisdom over time of how to use his passion to please a woman. He bent his knees slightly as he withdrew his person then overtly thrust, hesitating long enough to make sure that he had penetrated as deep as my body would allow. I grasped the walls of the shower as my cheek hugged the warm, dewy tile. The shiny, glitter polish on my toes gathered drops of moisture and my skin softened, succumbing to the stifling steam. The contrast of our age excited him further. He loved the girlfriend experience that we shared. I reached back to softly massage him and that’s when his climax built, panting over my shoulder like a beast in heat and he shot his essence into me.

Hotel breakfasts in Zürich are moments to be savored. Hotel breakfasts in the States are not the same. As traffic began to cut through the snowy streets of Zürich, I nibbled on the last bit of cheese and buttery croissant then sauntered over to the closet. I wasn’t sure what to wear. I’d never been to a spa in the Alps before. He had instructed me to bring a swimsuit.

We met in Seattle, he was attending a business conference. His fashion was unassuming as was his demeanor. His wit was dry, his conversation minimal, yet rich with experience and travel. His midriff showed subtle signs of gourmet dining but in an entirely acceptable manner. He wasn’t a wealthy man by economic standards, but wealth is counted in far more ways than just monetary. He was drawn to my colorful, dynamic, outspoken way. He felt that my outgoing personality complimented his reserve. He relished my confident, classy yet sassy manner in which we interacted. He knew that he didn’t have to try too hard to impress me. I appreciated him for who he was. Such chemistry is an honor between a companion and her client. But what it did for us behind closed doors moved the earth.

Water trickled behind the bathroom door. Feeling sexual, I loosened my robe, allowing it to fall slowly to the floor. The low volume of Melody gardot resonated in the background. His impeccable hygiene excited me and I gently squeezed my breasts, remembering how he liked to excite my nipples, softly biting then sucking first one, then the other. I stared at my reflection in the mirror inside the closet door and touched myself the way he did. Even then, I was still moist from the morning sex and slid my middle finger inside my tightness, remembering the first time we made love. I admired my olive skinned body with its womanly curves in all the desired places. I like to pamper myself. I love being a woman and it shows.

I knew not where he drove. After a while of quenching conversation and winding through the Alps, I became aware of the warmness of the fur lining of my coat flush with the soft, caramel leather of the heated seat. Just ahead, a tunnel chiseled its way amidst the vastness of the surreal, snow capped mountains and my libido stirred. The sexual, mischievous girl in me smiled devilishly and caught his eye.

As we crept into the dark tunnel behind a trail of other cars, I detected a delay. Feeling hot and naughty, I casually leaned over and unfastened the fly of his pants. Sensing my intent, he grew awkward then overridden with pleasure as I gathered the softness of him into the warmth of my mouth with plump, velvet lips. Feeling his quick transformation into hardness as the tip reached the back of my throat caused my pussy to throb with an increasing wetness that making my french lace panties slide about. I couldn’t help myself. I could feel his cock crowding my throat, so deep I almost gagged. But ecstasy prevailed and I exploded into orgasm. In the pitch blackness of the tunnel, I sat up, ripped off my coat, peeled tight, leather pants and quickly climbed over the console into his lap. Anticipation of the act itself was so forbidden and unheard of for a conservative man of his age and stature. But it conjured his deepest fantasies, to feel as though he was young, crazy and virile. Desired is what I made him feel.

The compact angle of the seat plunged his shaft deep into me, practically swallowing my g spot. I barely had to move in a rhythmic motion to achieve an electrifying orgasm. Noting the urgency of my climax and swollen nipples piercing through my cashmere sweater, he almost tore it apart as his lips pulled one in his mouth which he sucked fiercely. This humble, quiet, meager of a man was allowing me to take him wildly in the driver’s seat of his sports car in a tunnel in the Alps of Switzerland. As if he could get any harder, I felt the sensation of an orgasm boiling up his shaft to the surface of his dick and he shot a load deep in my pussy with an explosion that caused me to scream.

The spa was breathtaking, a dream I had never imagined. He looked at me and smiled shyly, knowing what we were about to enjoy. I got a sense that the day’s activities were only a prelude of what was to come as he had reserved the entire spa just for us. The outdoor pool, nestled in the mountains, emitted a haze of bubbly steam. Just then, the sun broke through the clouds, a rainbow cascaded its colorful rays over the pool and a delicate flurry of snowflakes fell from the sky. I was then greeted by an angelic, blonde Swiss girl with robe, slippers and wine. I could have kissed her pink, swollen lips right there. For sure I had died and gone to heaven. But then, I remembered my man, ready to take me again in the steamy pool amidst the vastness of the Alps and I smiled.

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