One Night Stand With A Girl I Met At A Pub
- 3 years ago
- 13
- 0
The Girl From The Pub free porn video
It started off as a simple greeting to a pretty girl serving in a quiet pub. She gave me a lovely smile when asking what I wanted to drink and when she walked away from the bar to pour the wine I ordered I couldn't help seeing and admiring her figure. Dressed in a pair of denim shorts, black tights and a crop top she was certainly a refreshing sight after the crap day I'd just had. After I had paid for the drink she came back and seemed happy to chat, perhaps she was bored and I certainly needed to distract myself from todays work explosion.
I had resigned my job that day, was annoyed, sad and angry all at the same time, and couldn't have imagined better therapy than to chat to Teresa. I should say now that I am in my sixties and if I had a pound for every time I've heard people say I reassemble Richard Attenborough I'd still not be rich but well able to buy him a drink or two. So I ain't no oil painting, but I'm polite and can be charming when the company suits.
In this case it did suit, Teresa was a delightfully chatty girl and seemed quite happy to stay and talk, so much so that on one occasion I had to remind her that someone else was waiting to be served. I was most surprised and flattered when, after serving the two women, she returned and continued the conversation. We had been talking, in a lighthearted way, about fashion and I had expressed a liking for retro clothes, forties, fifties and to an extent the dress of post WW2 era. I was discussing men's clothing as well as women's and I promise you it was her who brought up the subject of lingerie.
"Do you like retro lingerie Michael?" To gain time I replied with my own question, " Well perhaps but what kind of lingerie are you thinking of?" Her reply to that was immediate and accompanied with more than a hint of flirting. She talked about basques, suspenders and French knickers, she was happy to discuss the fabrics she liked, mostly silks and satin's, and the colours, not for her the cliched blacks and reds but pastel shades of greens and pale blues. She described her liking for delightfully free flowing underwear in a manner that was instructive and increasingly erotic.
She was clearly very enthusiastic about her liking for the clothes and not just being a tease, but as I've said I'm no big catch so went along with her, to keep the conversation going along the growing naughtiness. I said, basically, me too, that I loved to see that kind of underwear, and though it covered much more than a skimpy thong would, it was, for me anyway, loads more erotic. I then went for broke and asked if she wouldn't mind me telling her a raunchy tale about my Aunts. You realise that by now I'd had a couple of glasses of decent red wine so inhibitions were a tad loosened.
My mum had three sisters all, like her, had been pretty much femme fatales in their day, still handsome ladies when they aged, indeed the last survivor, now ninety, is quite a rude lady still, with more than a twinkle in her eyes. When I was four or five I remember clearly being in their company playing with my toys on the floor. Perhaps this was where I gained my love for silky lingerie because, as working class as the four ladies were, what I caught regular glimpses at wasn't your long cotton bloomers so beloved of music halls and Ealing comedies. What I saw were fine nylons and silky french knickers or perhaps cami knickers. Yes I was very young but I swear I didn't imagine it and I can never recall being told off for looking. Curiously my older brother, who was much more of a ladies man than never had this experience or so he said.
After telling this story I ordered some more wine, invited Teresa to have a drink with me and took a deep breath. I'm not a chat-up or pick up merchant but hey I was enjoying her company so I asked what time she finished her shift, hoping she was just working for the afternoon. Ouch, she answered that question with her own, "Why do you ask?" I almost gave up and retreated but the wine had relaxed and emboldened me. "I thought I might treat us to a meal somewhere, an early supper perhaps if you are off shift soon, and perhaps I can carry on enjoying your company and conversation?"
She cocked her head, smiled and looking not just at me but through me said " Excuse me a moment Michael I'll be right back". She was Indeed, walking back to the bar still smiling that knowing way, I just felt that she was going to say yes, she would come with me for a meal. But what did I know, her shift was going to be over in half an hour and she would be happy to eat with me. However, did I like Caribbean food? If so we could get a take away from a great place nearby and take it back to eat in her flat? Of course I agreed as long as we could stop off and pick up some wine.
Peppered steak with rice and peas is what we chose and a bottle of a cheap if reasonably good looking merlot. Her flat was a 10 minute bus ride away and though we both had to stand we continued chirping away about old fashion, old movies, she apparently loved Brief Encounter and Casablanca, and boogie woogie music Andrews sisters style. The flat was not large but it was simply furnished and thus seemed more spacious. It was clean and tidy without seeming soulless or sterile, and it was without doubt hers. As I found out later her signature was everywhere, those simple additional touches that elevated a stereotyped style into something with individuality.
Back in the pub when I first saw her in those shorts and tights I had noticed that the shorts were very stylish with proper pockets and just the right side of being snug without being gynaecological. Her tights were sheer and smooth, hole free and not showing those thick tops that so many girls worry little about revealing. Without a great deal of flourish she had changed a very common clothing style into something much more elegant whilst maintaining its practical simplicity.
Taking me into her kitchen she took an opened wine bottle from a shelf and hoping I didn't mind it being half used and having been open for a day or so, poured out two glasses. Well Michael, there's the microwave, the plates are in that cupboard and salt pepper etc in there, I'm off to shower and change, see you in fifteen minutes. I found two shallow earthenware dishes, shared out the food, which smelled delicious, so much so that I have eaten there and from there many times since; seasoned it sparingly, it was pepper steak after all and sat down to enjoy my wine.
I was about to put the first dish onto heat when she walked back into the kitchen. She certainly had changed and amazing quickly too. Her hair was now drawn from the back of her neck and piled up neatly towards the front of her head, unmistakably in a forties, fifties style. The black dress she now wore, figure hugging yes but not overly so, was just below knee length and cut low enough at the front to see she had shapely breasts. Black high heels accentuated her calves and black sheer seamed stockings, or tights, completed her outfit. I didn't know quite what to say but managed to mumble something about doing the food, taking the dish away from me she steered me back into the other room insisting I sit down and had some wine whilst she brought the food. By now I was becoming a little nervous, this was all to surprising and much to fast moving, the food would give me a chance to slow things up a bit.
I heard the microwave ping and shortly after that she came in with two small trays on which were the piled up the dishes of deliciously smelling Caribbean food. Neither of us stood on ceremony and tucked in with an obvious hunger and anticipation. And it was superb, not that highly spiced but flavoured and enticing. The wine was complementary to the food and a little heady, perhaps though that was more to do with the situation we were in. There was a charged atmosphere in the room which was partly the wine but mostly the obvious sexual tension.
I'm sure we chatted about loads of things whilst we were eating but for the life of me I can't remember what about. It seemed to be just aimless chit chat to fill in time until we had eaten. We finished the food soon enough and Teresa stood up to clear away indicating I should sit back and relax. She was quickly back snuggled beside me on her sofa with her glass in her hand her head titled over looking straight into my eyes. Leaning further towards me she kissed me full on the lips rolling her tongue gently into my mouth making me gasp with shock and pleasure.
"I believe you were ready for that weren't you?" and undeniably I was. "You taste really nice do you know that and you're such a gentleman with emphasis on the word gentle?, I hope though that you won't be entirely gentle with me, especially when I take my dress off?"
With that she stood up reached behind and unzipped the dress allowing it to fall to her feet. "There, that's better isn't it?" for the second time in just a few moments I was shocked to silence. The black sheer stockings were held up by wide cream suspenders straps, unusually four for each stocking leg. These peeped out from under the lacy hem of a pair of cream French knickers, over which she wore a sort of chemise top of the same silky material also lavishly trimmed with lace. It was also very obvious that she was not wearing a bra but she didn't seem to need one anyway. Reaching down to me she put a hand on my mouth and closed it. " it's OK you can talk now but I can tell you approve. It's pretty much what we were talking about earlier, if you are really good I may model some more for you later, but for now there is something I have been dying to show you". He took my left hand and placed it on her right buttock and used it to push up the hem of her knickers then turning to reveal a small but magnificently executed tattoo.
"it's Betty Page!" and indeed it was, dressed as might be expected in black nylons and fifties style underwear. She asked if I liked it and my response was instant, I stood up wrapped my arms around, took a deep breathe and kissed her hard, a kiss she was very responsive too. Moments later we were in her bed and with all the earlier sexual tension working on us both, "Leave my knickers on but please, please lick me now". She wasn't shaven, a small triangle of neat hair perched prettily over her pussy and she tasted really fine, not too artificial just the right amount of natural aroma. I'd love to say she had had an instant orgasm but this story is not entirely a fantasy, it's pretty much mostly true but from the way she was bucking I guessed she was enjoy it. " My turn now Michael", and pushed me onto my back. Yes of course she zeroed in on my cock with her mouth and yes I started to squirm as much as she had earlier. I'm sure you can guess the rest, it was amazing for me and she made sure I came when she was ready, and in case you were wondering yes she did have a real orgasm, I could taste it.
More wine and some kissing and cuddling later she shoved me off the bed with instructions to go take a shower, she had things to do. Those 'things' turned out to be preparations for a fashion show for my benefit. A whole range of amazing lingerie was paraded before me, more silk French knickers, teddies, a basque or two finally a burlesque bloomer set that was as erotic as it could be and at the same time revealing not a lot. " Are you into photography Michael, if you are and when I get to to know you better perhaps I will model for you?".
Another time I'll write about that and, maybe, just maybe, show some of the results of the shoot.
I had resigned my job that day, was annoyed, sad and angry all at the same time, and couldn't have imagined better therapy than to chat to Teresa. I should say now that I am in my sixties and if I had a pound for every time I've heard people say I reassemble Richard Attenborough I'd still not be rich but well able to buy him a drink or two. So I ain't no oil painting, but I'm polite and can be charming when the company suits.
In this case it did suit, Teresa was a delightfully chatty girl and seemed quite happy to stay and talk, so much so that on one occasion I had to remind her that someone else was waiting to be served. I was most surprised and flattered when, after serving the two women, she returned and continued the conversation. We had been talking, in a lighthearted way, about fashion and I had expressed a liking for retro clothes, forties, fifties and to an extent the dress of post WW2 era. I was discussing men's clothing as well as women's and I promise you it was her who brought up the subject of lingerie.
"Do you like retro lingerie Michael?" To gain time I replied with my own question, " Well perhaps but what kind of lingerie are you thinking of?" Her reply to that was immediate and accompanied with more than a hint of flirting. She talked about basques, suspenders and French knickers, she was happy to discuss the fabrics she liked, mostly silks and satin's, and the colours, not for her the cliched blacks and reds but pastel shades of greens and pale blues. She described her liking for delightfully free flowing underwear in a manner that was instructive and increasingly erotic.
She was clearly very enthusiastic about her liking for the clothes and not just being a tease, but as I've said I'm no big catch so went along with her, to keep the conversation going along the growing naughtiness. I said, basically, me too, that I loved to see that kind of underwear, and though it covered much more than a skimpy thong would, it was, for me anyway, loads more erotic. I then went for broke and asked if she wouldn't mind me telling her a raunchy tale about my Aunts. You realise that by now I'd had a couple of glasses of decent red wine so inhibitions were a tad loosened.
My mum had three sisters all, like her, had been pretty much femme fatales in their day, still handsome ladies when they aged, indeed the last survivor, now ninety, is quite a rude lady still, with more than a twinkle in her eyes. When I was four or five I remember clearly being in their company playing with my toys on the floor. Perhaps this was where I gained my love for silky lingerie because, as working class as the four ladies were, what I caught regular glimpses at wasn't your long cotton bloomers so beloved of music halls and Ealing comedies. What I saw were fine nylons and silky french knickers or perhaps cami knickers. Yes I was very young but I swear I didn't imagine it and I can never recall being told off for looking. Curiously my older brother, who was much more of a ladies man than never had this experience or so he said.
After telling this story I ordered some more wine, invited Teresa to have a drink with me and took a deep breath. I'm not a chat-up or pick up merchant but hey I was enjoying her company so I asked what time she finished her shift, hoping she was just working for the afternoon. Ouch, she answered that question with her own, "Why do you ask?" I almost gave up and retreated but the wine had relaxed and emboldened me. "I thought I might treat us to a meal somewhere, an early supper perhaps if you are off shift soon, and perhaps I can carry on enjoying your company and conversation?"
She cocked her head, smiled and looking not just at me but through me said " Excuse me a moment Michael I'll be right back". She was Indeed, walking back to the bar still smiling that knowing way, I just felt that she was going to say yes, she would come with me for a meal. But what did I know, her shift was going to be over in half an hour and she would be happy to eat with me. However, did I like Caribbean food? If so we could get a take away from a great place nearby and take it back to eat in her flat? Of course I agreed as long as we could stop off and pick up some wine.
Peppered steak with rice and peas is what we chose and a bottle of a cheap if reasonably good looking merlot. Her flat was a 10 minute bus ride away and though we both had to stand we continued chirping away about old fashion, old movies, she apparently loved Brief Encounter and Casablanca, and boogie woogie music Andrews sisters style. The flat was not large but it was simply furnished and thus seemed more spacious. It was clean and tidy without seeming soulless or sterile, and it was without doubt hers. As I found out later her signature was everywhere, those simple additional touches that elevated a stereotyped style into something with individuality.
Back in the pub when I first saw her in those shorts and tights I had noticed that the shorts were very stylish with proper pockets and just the right side of being snug without being gynaecological. Her tights were sheer and smooth, hole free and not showing those thick tops that so many girls worry little about revealing. Without a great deal of flourish she had changed a very common clothing style into something much more elegant whilst maintaining its practical simplicity.
Taking me into her kitchen she took an opened wine bottle from a shelf and hoping I didn't mind it being half used and having been open for a day or so, poured out two glasses. Well Michael, there's the microwave, the plates are in that cupboard and salt pepper etc in there, I'm off to shower and change, see you in fifteen minutes. I found two shallow earthenware dishes, shared out the food, which smelled delicious, so much so that I have eaten there and from there many times since; seasoned it sparingly, it was pepper steak after all and sat down to enjoy my wine.
I was about to put the first dish onto heat when she walked back into the kitchen. She certainly had changed and amazing quickly too. Her hair was now drawn from the back of her neck and piled up neatly towards the front of her head, unmistakably in a forties, fifties style. The black dress she now wore, figure hugging yes but not overly so, was just below knee length and cut low enough at the front to see she had shapely breasts. Black high heels accentuated her calves and black sheer seamed stockings, or tights, completed her outfit. I didn't know quite what to say but managed to mumble something about doing the food, taking the dish away from me she steered me back into the other room insisting I sit down and had some wine whilst she brought the food. By now I was becoming a little nervous, this was all to surprising and much to fast moving, the food would give me a chance to slow things up a bit.
I heard the microwave ping and shortly after that she came in with two small trays on which were the piled up the dishes of deliciously smelling Caribbean food. Neither of us stood on ceremony and tucked in with an obvious hunger and anticipation. And it was superb, not that highly spiced but flavoured and enticing. The wine was complementary to the food and a little heady, perhaps though that was more to do with the situation we were in. There was a charged atmosphere in the room which was partly the wine but mostly the obvious sexual tension.
I'm sure we chatted about loads of things whilst we were eating but for the life of me I can't remember what about. It seemed to be just aimless chit chat to fill in time until we had eaten. We finished the food soon enough and Teresa stood up to clear away indicating I should sit back and relax. She was quickly back snuggled beside me on her sofa with her glass in her hand her head titled over looking straight into my eyes. Leaning further towards me she kissed me full on the lips rolling her tongue gently into my mouth making me gasp with shock and pleasure.
"I believe you were ready for that weren't you?" and undeniably I was. "You taste really nice do you know that and you're such a gentleman with emphasis on the word gentle?, I hope though that you won't be entirely gentle with me, especially when I take my dress off?"
With that she stood up reached behind and unzipped the dress allowing it to fall to her feet. "There, that's better isn't it?" for the second time in just a few moments I was shocked to silence. The black sheer stockings were held up by wide cream suspenders straps, unusually four for each stocking leg. These peeped out from under the lacy hem of a pair of cream French knickers, over which she wore a sort of chemise top of the same silky material also lavishly trimmed with lace. It was also very obvious that she was not wearing a bra but she didn't seem to need one anyway. Reaching down to me she put a hand on my mouth and closed it. " it's OK you can talk now but I can tell you approve. It's pretty much what we were talking about earlier, if you are really good I may model some more for you later, but for now there is something I have been dying to show you". He took my left hand and placed it on her right buttock and used it to push up the hem of her knickers then turning to reveal a small but magnificently executed tattoo.
"it's Betty Page!" and indeed it was, dressed as might be expected in black nylons and fifties style underwear. She asked if I liked it and my response was instant, I stood up wrapped my arms around, took a deep breathe and kissed her hard, a kiss she was very responsive too. Moments later we were in her bed and with all the earlier sexual tension working on us both, "Leave my knickers on but please, please lick me now". She wasn't shaven, a small triangle of neat hair perched prettily over her pussy and she tasted really fine, not too artificial just the right amount of natural aroma. I'd love to say she had had an instant orgasm but this story is not entirely a fantasy, it's pretty much mostly true but from the way she was bucking I guessed she was enjoy it. " My turn now Michael", and pushed me onto my back. Yes of course she zeroed in on my cock with her mouth and yes I started to squirm as much as she had earlier. I'm sure you can guess the rest, it was amazing for me and she made sure I came when she was ready, and in case you were wondering yes she did have a real orgasm, I could taste it.
More wine and some kissing and cuddling later she shoved me off the bed with instructions to go take a shower, she had things to do. Those 'things' turned out to be preparations for a fashion show for my benefit. A whole range of amazing lingerie was paraded before me, more silk French knickers, teddies, a basque or two finally a burlesque bloomer set that was as erotic as it could be and at the same time revealing not a lot. " Are you into photography Michael, if you are and when I get to to know you better perhaps I will model for you?".
Another time I'll write about that and, maybe, just maybe, show some of the results of the shoot.
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