Hairy University Ch 2 Gladys The Grey
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Hairy Lady Next Door II - Hairy Encounters free porn video
I was asked if this is real, did you really had that fling with your neighbor May?
- Yes, it did happen exactly like that - a movie that has kept on replaying in my head in the two and half decades that have passed since. It’s been over 27 years, I’m almost 40 now, she’s 43 or 44. A golden memory that is more effective than v1agra, when having the occasionally boring sex, it happens to all of us...
I must add though that at the time my body had just started developing and that a hand now and a one back then is a factor two thingy.
May… No contact whatsoever, not even indirectly, they all moved away eventually.
Currently she is working as a voice artist, dubbing foreign c***dren's programs into Dutch.
How I know?
Last week
The great phenomenon of the mixed sauna that we have in the Northern European countries. Full nudity, mixed genders.
Other people’s privates passing within inches of your face. Shower views, sunbathers, sweat, wet skin, red cheeks in hot tubs and saunas.
Usually not erotic, relaxing would the word, sometimes exciting though –
The colored guy walks in with a physique that confirms all clichees and is being checked out by every single female without them noticing it themselves, conversations die for a moment (or five);
The ‘1999 and later’ born girls and boys, on family Sunday, embarrassment when undressing before showering, bushes mostly untrimmed, unsubtle and without orchestration: it’s so new that to them it’s weird anyway, under development, real, as in the days of May, purity, virginesque;
Nadia is 63 and goes there every day, she says. She likes to talk, I loved to see her shower earlier on, always turning her butt towards the windows of the sauna I was in, big, firm, that butt. She joins me in that sauna, we sweat together at 80C while she talks her back problems and the sickness of her cat, noticing that I watch below her navel while having that unilateral chat she tells me that I can have a look if I want, I say Yes please Ma’am, wide these ebony legs spread, fingers pulling caramel toffee mini curtains, wires of pussy juicy webbing in all purple in what seems a pink cave, ‘I’m lonely since Eric died, he was my only man’, she adds. ‘And now we talk again’ she continues, closing her legs –
That’s sauna in Holland. Sometimes.
Usually it’s just the eye. And the mind cam.
Last week
Daisy and I went there, she went for a massage, me bubbling, half asleep in the warm water, unable to oversee the physicalities of the persons showering two meters away.
The odds show: long labia, making me think of a baboon’s butt, scars of a caesarean, piercings, uniform pussies, all shaven. Being perfectly imperfect myself, I allow my eyes to glance, again and again.
While Berlioz is on my mind and Sauvignon Blanc as well, urging now, the habit: finally some pubes. And no pubes for pussies - black, thick, long hair, probably never shaven. Up to the navel, on her butt, when turning around. Buttocks, full, fat, muscular. Full lips, a singing voice, typical our my Heimat, laughing with the lady next to her, a skinny thing, brunette bob, a pussy like a cooked chicken, way too candid.
But yes: May. It’s May again. I get up before I even know that I intend to do so and scream: ‘May!’.
‘Jamy?’ she greets me, high octaves again, like back then.
Maud chicken cunt introduces and excuses herself, stone massage. May says that she hates going to the sauna with colleagues. Let’s have lunch together.
She and I just talk, about our siblings, parents, easy and nice talk. A cappuccino in bathing gown.
Semi hard when we undress for the shower. May undressing for me, a lifetime kick.
Me scrubbing her back with lavender salt, commands like 25+ years ago, ’Higher, yes also my derriere. Ooh my armpits’. ‘Now my chest’. ‘My thighs’. She likes me touching her hairs, no matter where on her body. Shampooing her scalp, her armpits. These huge breasts, soft, kissable. Bigger and pointier nipples than before. Sucked at, I see. Breasts gradually losing the battle with gravity, but not quite defeated yet.
Another couple notices our intimacy and smiles is what we receive.
Very full if not thick thighs, pale like all the rest of her. The hidden thingy, that pink and purple flower in between of all that hair, these lips, now more prominent and visible than in the stone ages, it’s bigger, sticking out, soapy, douche gel dripping down, curls spiralling ‘I’m a mother now, five of them’. ‘All in the natural way’. ‘Nurtured in the way mammals do’, she tells, holding a breast in each hand. We chatter.
And then she looks at my hands. We laugh even more.
No, that never happened again.
And we didn’t have sex again, in no way.
Her hubby, Francis, had a dump on top of our cake. Understandably.
But May and I have sauna days together.
Long evenings, she reserves a massage room and I’m the masseur of duty.
It’s big and stretchy now.
Always treated with the greatest respect.
And I smell like pussy when I walk out.
Of course I still am just a toy for her.
And I love it.
Never wanted anything else.
JamesBlow
- Yes, it did happen exactly like that - a movie that has kept on replaying in my head in the two and half decades that have passed since. It’s been over 27 years, I’m almost 40 now, she’s 43 or 44. A golden memory that is more effective than v1agra, when having the occasionally boring sex, it happens to all of us...
I must add though that at the time my body had just started developing and that a hand now and a one back then is a factor two thingy.
May… No contact whatsoever, not even indirectly, they all moved away eventually.
Currently she is working as a voice artist, dubbing foreign c***dren's programs into Dutch.
How I know?
Last week
The great phenomenon of the mixed sauna that we have in the Northern European countries. Full nudity, mixed genders.
Other people’s privates passing within inches of your face. Shower views, sunbathers, sweat, wet skin, red cheeks in hot tubs and saunas.
Usually not erotic, relaxing would the word, sometimes exciting though –
The colored guy walks in with a physique that confirms all clichees and is being checked out by every single female without them noticing it themselves, conversations die for a moment (or five);
The ‘1999 and later’ born girls and boys, on family Sunday, embarrassment when undressing before showering, bushes mostly untrimmed, unsubtle and without orchestration: it’s so new that to them it’s weird anyway, under development, real, as in the days of May, purity, virginesque;
Nadia is 63 and goes there every day, she says. She likes to talk, I loved to see her shower earlier on, always turning her butt towards the windows of the sauna I was in, big, firm, that butt. She joins me in that sauna, we sweat together at 80C while she talks her back problems and the sickness of her cat, noticing that I watch below her navel while having that unilateral chat she tells me that I can have a look if I want, I say Yes please Ma’am, wide these ebony legs spread, fingers pulling caramel toffee mini curtains, wires of pussy juicy webbing in all purple in what seems a pink cave, ‘I’m lonely since Eric died, he was my only man’, she adds. ‘And now we talk again’ she continues, closing her legs –
That’s sauna in Holland. Sometimes.
Usually it’s just the eye. And the mind cam.
Last week
Daisy and I went there, she went for a massage, me bubbling, half asleep in the warm water, unable to oversee the physicalities of the persons showering two meters away.
The odds show: long labia, making me think of a baboon’s butt, scars of a caesarean, piercings, uniform pussies, all shaven. Being perfectly imperfect myself, I allow my eyes to glance, again and again.
While Berlioz is on my mind and Sauvignon Blanc as well, urging now, the habit: finally some pubes. And no pubes for pussies - black, thick, long hair, probably never shaven. Up to the navel, on her butt, when turning around. Buttocks, full, fat, muscular. Full lips, a singing voice, typical our my Heimat, laughing with the lady next to her, a skinny thing, brunette bob, a pussy like a cooked chicken, way too candid.
But yes: May. It’s May again. I get up before I even know that I intend to do so and scream: ‘May!’.
‘Jamy?’ she greets me, high octaves again, like back then.
Maud chicken cunt introduces and excuses herself, stone massage. May says that she hates going to the sauna with colleagues. Let’s have lunch together.
She and I just talk, about our siblings, parents, easy and nice talk. A cappuccino in bathing gown.
Semi hard when we undress for the shower. May undressing for me, a lifetime kick.
Me scrubbing her back with lavender salt, commands like 25+ years ago, ’Higher, yes also my derriere. Ooh my armpits’. ‘Now my chest’. ‘My thighs’. She likes me touching her hairs, no matter where on her body. Shampooing her scalp, her armpits. These huge breasts, soft, kissable. Bigger and pointier nipples than before. Sucked at, I see. Breasts gradually losing the battle with gravity, but not quite defeated yet.
Another couple notices our intimacy and smiles is what we receive.
Very full if not thick thighs, pale like all the rest of her. The hidden thingy, that pink and purple flower in between of all that hair, these lips, now more prominent and visible than in the stone ages, it’s bigger, sticking out, soapy, douche gel dripping down, curls spiralling ‘I’m a mother now, five of them’. ‘All in the natural way’. ‘Nurtured in the way mammals do’, she tells, holding a breast in each hand. We chatter.
And then she looks at my hands. We laugh even more.
No, that never happened again.
And we didn’t have sex again, in no way.
Her hubby, Francis, had a dump on top of our cake. Understandably.
But May and I have sauna days together.
Long evenings, she reserves a massage room and I’m the masseur of duty.
It’s big and stretchy now.
Always treated with the greatest respect.
And I smell like pussy when I walk out.
Of course I still am just a toy for her.
And I love it.
Never wanted anything else.
JamesBlow
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