Lost and found

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Lost and foundI was lost, that was obviously true. I wasn’t even that sure how I’d ended up in Damascus in the first place, there had been some kind of problem with the plane causing a landing for evaluation and repair I think. So rather than sitting and waiting in a noisy hanger I’d taken a walk and I was very lost. And quite scared too. The four street thieves or local chancers had spotted me quickly enough as I meandered away from the airport, a single lost foreigner alone in the afternoon sun, and started following quietly at first, then openly, me so I had run. The streets were a maze to me. I tried to lose them of course, but that was an impossibility in their home city rather than my own. Somehow, after turning this way and that, paying too much attention behind and not enough to where I was going I turned into a dead end street. I looked for another exit but saw none. Panic gripped me, I would be caught and who knows what, robbed surely, killed possibly. Some fleeting movement beyond a window at the left side of the street caught my attention and canlı bahis şirketleri I took a risk, and possibly my only hope, knocking briskly upon the door. It was opened and, pushing the door open further, I fell in shutting and locking the door quickly behind me. The startled lady in the crisp white hijab looked panicked. As of course she should, an unknown obvious foreigner had just forced his way into the building. She was alone in what appeared to be some kind of work area. A table took centre stage with other tables and cupboards around the walls, otherwise it showed no signs of personality. I tried desperately to explain my current predicament but she didn’t seem to understand. Suddenly there was a rapt knocking on the door behind me and I saw this beautiful, actually very desirable now I looked properly, Muslim woman move to scream out. My only thought was to quieten here which I did by stepping to her quickly kissing her full on the mouth. In shock she returned the kiss then silently stepped away. I expected a slap to my face, canlı kaçak iddaa which I had fully deserved, but she put her hand to her mouth as if to check those were her lips, and then she place a single finger to my lips, as if to warn me to silence. She stepped back and leaned against a table appraising me, shuffling her feet slightly apart. In return I looked at her more clearly in silence. She wore a blue trimmed short sleeved white tunic, some kind of uniform perhaps, which was tailored to her figure ending three or so inches below her crotch. The white stood out against the soft tone of her skin.Gently she stroked her own thigh, seemingly in deep thought, then silently she held a hand out to me. Her eyes wide in invitation. I didn’t know what to do but step towards her.As I moved she turned her back and leaned away from me over the table glancing back to check I was still coming. The bottom of her tunic rising up and revealing more of the backs of her thighs, the bottom of a perfect white pair of knicker shorts peeking out taught across her canlı kaçak bahis behind. I felt myself, trance like, stepping to her and feeling her buttocks grind against my suddenly hard cock. The moment took me, the adrenaline of the chase released a need to affirm life, and I tugged her panties down and my own aside and touched my cock to her waiting pussy lips. There couldn’t be time for more. This was an urgency hard within me. I was still alive and how else should that be celebrated?Thrusting again and again inside her I find my heart beating like a drum. I tore at her clothes to feel her breasts beneath my hands. She was left naked aside from her hijab and sneakers, I ended up with just one shoe, otherwise divested of all my clothes, I know not how, laid upon the table with this mystery woman astride me using my cock for her own pleasure. Seemingly tirelessly she worked my hard penis within her. When I came deep within she looked down at me expecting to feel me soften, but I stayed hard as I did and she looked relieved and kept going taking as much pleasure as she could from me.We finally collapsed exhausted. When I awoke she was gone leaving me totally alone just my clothes and a map back to the airport. I have returned to Damascus many times desperate to find her again. I still hope I will ……

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

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