Sheeba My Neighbor Part II
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SHE AND I free porn video
I was sitting up in bed absorbed in a book and barely noticed that she had entered the room until I had paused to turn a page and happened to glance up moentarily from the page and spotted her leaning over my little desk by the window, idly turning the pages of a sketchbook that laying out and open to an unfinished nude study that I was working on. She had just finished her bath and wore short, pale blue robe that revealed all while she was examining my drwaings. Her legs being slightly apart I could easily see the salmon-pink mouth of her cunt. She must have been aware of this fact and that I' be straining my eyes (however effortlessly) to drink in this sight. I was certainly at the vulnerable age were hormones were easily manipulated but over the last few months of this game I had acquired a slight immunity and it tortured me considerably less than the initial few times. It was still an enchanting sight to behold regardless.
I put aside my book and directed all my attention upon her. Sometimes she would straighten up and the hem of the robe fell and hid the object of my desire. I was immune to its full impact and sway but surely I was not made of stone and the solid erection inside my pajama pants testified to its enduring influence which I was victim and benefactor simultaneously. I had the mad desire to rush over and slip my hand between her legs and finger her cunt. Would she surrender to these caresses or was I going to recieve a hard blow across the face? I remained on the side of caution and merely stretched out and watched her.
Suddenly she turned to face me. This motion caused the robe to open partially toward the hem and offered a brief glimpse of the thick black triangulation of hair that grew in a very dense triangulation between her legs and under the soft little pot belly. She was slightly self conscious of this attribute but I found it very erotic but a mind made up is difficult to alter. However she was proud of breasts. They were (in my own opinion) was disproportionately large in comparison to this somewhat petite woman, but they sat high and proud on the freckled chest. They shift appealingly under thin shirts and seems little is needed to provoke the nipples to harden. She only wore a bra on more formal and conservative occasions, but the blouses or dresses she wore often revealed her impressive chest.
"You're improving," she said as she turned around and beamed a big smile over me.
"I still have to work on drawing hands, they tend to come out looking like claws. My strength is portraits," I said. "I'm no Van Gogh."
She came over the bed and sat on the edge. I noticed how loosely the sash was tied and seemed to slip open at any moment and the robe would burst open. Her tits were already formidable forces on the two halves and were conspiring to just burst free. It would be the first time that this would happen. I have her naked several times. The first (and most memorable) was when I opened the bathroom door only to see her standing up at the sink shaving her underarms, humming softly to herself, and only notived me standing frozen in the threshold but seemed unashamed and not the least bit angry at me, although I blushed for a long while afterwards. I came to conclusion that all these incidents were in fact staged to inflame those demonic hormones and torture my imagination.
I still had a considerable erection when she sat down, now partially reclined but making a modest effort to keep the robe closed. She did not want to be too obvious, I assumed. I particularly liked the dark hair on her arm. She was full-blood Italian, dark, and slightly cubby in the most sensuous manner.
"Will you sketch me some time?" she asked and lays a hand on my leg. This was the hand holding onto the two tips of the hem together and now they were open. The pubic was very dark and very thick. She kept it well trimmed and never appeared sloppy or ungroomed.
"Any time you'd like," I said and attempted not to gawk at this sight. My erection had just begun to fade but was now reinvigorated. If the slightest would have been applied at that moment I surely would have exploded and saturated both pajamas, sheets, and bed with the river of come that was swelling within me.
"Would you prefer me nude or clothed?"
"Whatever you feel comfortable doing."
"Do you know that Salvdor Dali masturbated while he painted a nude model and she was never the wiser?" she said.
"Is that rue?"
"Absolutely true. I read it somewhere."
"He organized orgies. He never participated in them but he walked around controling the action. He tap someone on the ass and tell them that they were doing something wrong or do it as he desired," I told her.
"I am not too old to model am I?"
"You're beautiful," I said.
"My tits are still very nice, aren't they?"
"They are perfect. A girl half your age would envy them."
"I developed very early in life. Much earlier than many girls in my school. They were jealous and made me feel ashamed of them. I love my tits now."
She opened the robe at the last breath of this statement and she lifted them slightly (even though it was not required) with her hands. Her face radiated with joy and the nipples swelled. They were equisite and I leaned forward and kissed each one with the affection one might pay tribute to some religious icon. They were the Tits of Saint Julia. She tossed her head back and laughed.
My hand moved like a flash to her cunt. The bristling hair was a delightful sensation against my flesh and the texture of her cunt was damp and swollen, opening for me like some exoitc wild flower that I had discovered. I seemed to transcend my own lack of physical experience and fingered her eagerly, probing deeper and deeper and felt that soft flesh under my findertips grow damper with each motion. She had at last completely divested herself of the robe and was reclining down upon the bed as I followed her, pressing myself over her. She clumsily pushed my pajama pants down and was now tugging on my cock, squeezing it, mentally measuring it. She guided it into her waiting cunt. I sank down into her as she exhaled a long deep sigh.
Julia was my nanny since I was born. I felt a closeness to her that was sometimes deeper than my own mother. I had been in love with her for a very long time. I believe that she knew this long before I did as I snuck into her room late at night and snuggled close to her. On oppressively hot evening we were both naked but in the dark all I could see were heavy shadows which fueled my youthful imagination. All these were done in the utmost secret. I was sworn never to tell a soul, not even my best friends knew about Julia's affection. I kept the secret faithfully.
These little secrets now seemed to culminate to this moment as I lay stretched on top of her, pumping my hips, Julia guiding me. When she lifted her arms I saw the thick growth of underarm hair and I swooned, rubbing my face ino it as she chuckled. But now I saw strange tattoos on her body that were until this moment hidden. They were mostly on her back. As we lay silently afterwards she lay on her stomach and allowed me to trace the markings with the tip of my finger. They were quite elaborate. In the center of a circle sat a figure: its upper half was a barechested man but the lower portion was some manner of b**st. It was sitting with its furred legs crossed with an enormous penis jutting outward. Upon the face of this illustrated creature was an expression which was ambiguously and might be percieved as either happy or sinister. Around the entire perimiter of the circle were letters of an alphabet I was wholly ignorant of. I was fascinated and frightened simultaneously.
Julia just smiled over her shoulder at me. We knew that ou time was limited and my parents would be back from the party they were attending that evening. When she tucked me into bed and leaned over amd gave me long deep kiss that once again stirred my penis. I suddenly seized her by the arms I attempted to pull her down but she was stronger than her petite figure appeared, but said that I might visit her later in the evening if I was still awake. She quickly turned and extinguished the light and I was left in the darkened room with my head spinning with many unanswered questions. But I did drift of eventually, my dreams filled with Julia, our bodies tangled together in the most absurd confirgurations.
I put aside my book and directed all my attention upon her. Sometimes she would straighten up and the hem of the robe fell and hid the object of my desire. I was immune to its full impact and sway but surely I was not made of stone and the solid erection inside my pajama pants testified to its enduring influence which I was victim and benefactor simultaneously. I had the mad desire to rush over and slip my hand between her legs and finger her cunt. Would she surrender to these caresses or was I going to recieve a hard blow across the face? I remained on the side of caution and merely stretched out and watched her.
Suddenly she turned to face me. This motion caused the robe to open partially toward the hem and offered a brief glimpse of the thick black triangulation of hair that grew in a very dense triangulation between her legs and under the soft little pot belly. She was slightly self conscious of this attribute but I found it very erotic but a mind made up is difficult to alter. However she was proud of breasts. They were (in my own opinion) was disproportionately large in comparison to this somewhat petite woman, but they sat high and proud on the freckled chest. They shift appealingly under thin shirts and seems little is needed to provoke the nipples to harden. She only wore a bra on more formal and conservative occasions, but the blouses or dresses she wore often revealed her impressive chest.
"You're improving," she said as she turned around and beamed a big smile over me.
"I still have to work on drawing hands, they tend to come out looking like claws. My strength is portraits," I said. "I'm no Van Gogh."
She came over the bed and sat on the edge. I noticed how loosely the sash was tied and seemed to slip open at any moment and the robe would burst open. Her tits were already formidable forces on the two halves and were conspiring to just burst free. It would be the first time that this would happen. I have her naked several times. The first (and most memorable) was when I opened the bathroom door only to see her standing up at the sink shaving her underarms, humming softly to herself, and only notived me standing frozen in the threshold but seemed unashamed and not the least bit angry at me, although I blushed for a long while afterwards. I came to conclusion that all these incidents were in fact staged to inflame those demonic hormones and torture my imagination.
I still had a considerable erection when she sat down, now partially reclined but making a modest effort to keep the robe closed. She did not want to be too obvious, I assumed. I particularly liked the dark hair on her arm. She was full-blood Italian, dark, and slightly cubby in the most sensuous manner.
"Will you sketch me some time?" she asked and lays a hand on my leg. This was the hand holding onto the two tips of the hem together and now they were open. The pubic was very dark and very thick. She kept it well trimmed and never appeared sloppy or ungroomed.
"Any time you'd like," I said and attempted not to gawk at this sight. My erection had just begun to fade but was now reinvigorated. If the slightest would have been applied at that moment I surely would have exploded and saturated both pajamas, sheets, and bed with the river of come that was swelling within me.
"Would you prefer me nude or clothed?"
"Whatever you feel comfortable doing."
"Do you know that Salvdor Dali masturbated while he painted a nude model and she was never the wiser?" she said.
"Is that rue?"
"Absolutely true. I read it somewhere."
"He organized orgies. He never participated in them but he walked around controling the action. He tap someone on the ass and tell them that they were doing something wrong or do it as he desired," I told her.
"I am not too old to model am I?"
"You're beautiful," I said.
"My tits are still very nice, aren't they?"
"They are perfect. A girl half your age would envy them."
"I developed very early in life. Much earlier than many girls in my school. They were jealous and made me feel ashamed of them. I love my tits now."
She opened the robe at the last breath of this statement and she lifted them slightly (even though it was not required) with her hands. Her face radiated with joy and the nipples swelled. They were equisite and I leaned forward and kissed each one with the affection one might pay tribute to some religious icon. They were the Tits of Saint Julia. She tossed her head back and laughed.
My hand moved like a flash to her cunt. The bristling hair was a delightful sensation against my flesh and the texture of her cunt was damp and swollen, opening for me like some exoitc wild flower that I had discovered. I seemed to transcend my own lack of physical experience and fingered her eagerly, probing deeper and deeper and felt that soft flesh under my findertips grow damper with each motion. She had at last completely divested herself of the robe and was reclining down upon the bed as I followed her, pressing myself over her. She clumsily pushed my pajama pants down and was now tugging on my cock, squeezing it, mentally measuring it. She guided it into her waiting cunt. I sank down into her as she exhaled a long deep sigh.
Julia was my nanny since I was born. I felt a closeness to her that was sometimes deeper than my own mother. I had been in love with her for a very long time. I believe that she knew this long before I did as I snuck into her room late at night and snuggled close to her. On oppressively hot evening we were both naked but in the dark all I could see were heavy shadows which fueled my youthful imagination. All these were done in the utmost secret. I was sworn never to tell a soul, not even my best friends knew about Julia's affection. I kept the secret faithfully.
These little secrets now seemed to culminate to this moment as I lay stretched on top of her, pumping my hips, Julia guiding me. When she lifted her arms I saw the thick growth of underarm hair and I swooned, rubbing my face ino it as she chuckled. But now I saw strange tattoos on her body that were until this moment hidden. They were mostly on her back. As we lay silently afterwards she lay on her stomach and allowed me to trace the markings with the tip of my finger. They were quite elaborate. In the center of a circle sat a figure: its upper half was a barechested man but the lower portion was some manner of b**st. It was sitting with its furred legs crossed with an enormous penis jutting outward. Upon the face of this illustrated creature was an expression which was ambiguously and might be percieved as either happy or sinister. Around the entire perimiter of the circle were letters of an alphabet I was wholly ignorant of. I was fascinated and frightened simultaneously.
Julia just smiled over her shoulder at me. We knew that ou time was limited and my parents would be back from the party they were attending that evening. When she tucked me into bed and leaned over amd gave me long deep kiss that once again stirred my penis. I suddenly seized her by the arms I attempted to pull her down but she was stronger than her petite figure appeared, but said that I might visit her later in the evening if I was still awake. She quickly turned and extinguished the light and I was left in the darkened room with my head spinning with many unanswered questions. But I did drift of eventually, my dreams filled with Julia, our bodies tangled together in the most absurd confirgurations.
Eisley
- 15.07.2020
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