+18 years

When we tasted the caviar…

When one has tasted caviar, it is complicated to enjoy tarama with so much pleasure. Wait or try?

Caviar, pleasure expected. Photo by Dainis Graveris on Unsplash

The satiated panther

The American is gone, he left this soft warmth between my thighs and this desire to start again.

He will be away for several weeks, nothing prevents me from going hunting again to taste a new prey. Yes, but when you’ve tasted caviar, it’s hard to be satisfied with a salmon tarama…

I know I won’t get better for months, years, or maybe just lucky? As a result, the hunter puts herself a little on hold.

I go out and have fun, like normal people, I go out to dance and not to hunt. It’s quite pleasant, by the way, not to spend your early evening on the lookout for prey. I should try more often…

Hunting or being hunted

On a Saturday evening, with my ears pricked up, I feel like feeling the excitement of the hunt. We are at Geisha, the whole hostel is there, and I have a crazy desire to kiss, to tie my tongue to that of a stranger.

It doesn’t take me long to find my victim, but I quickly understand that I am just as much the prey as the hunter in this exchange. It is a little too dominant for my taste. But I let it happen. He’s pretty cute, and it’s a nice catch.

However, I am not transported, I miss the bitterness of caviar. I feel that the guy is not going to live up to my new standards of pleasure. Drunk, he convinces me to follow him in the street. I have my period, I tell him several times, but he doesn’t listen. When he offers me a hotel room, I hesitate, but I want to go home. The temptation is strong, I have the intuition that following him will put me in a delicate situation. To save myself, I tell him one last time clearly that I am in my bad period.

Finally the information reaches his brain. A flash of lucidity in his mind, he stammers and runs away. Okay, that’s done. I’m relieved.

Even Max can’t measure up

The week of absence turns into several, and I feel that my lower belly will end up wanting more than just my knuckles on its knob.

Max miraculously reappears. He sends me a message and offers to see me. Going, after all, with Max was good too. Another flavor, another temperament, it can’t hurt me!

I join him in his inn, he is there immense, imposing. His eyes sparkle when he sees me. It doesn’t take long for our lips to taste each other again. We kiss under the porch, out of sight. His grip is always powerful and exciting, he pushes me against the wall, he starts to slip his robust fingers under my skirt. I feel the desire which rises suddenly. I want that he takes me savagely. He has the room for him, as much to benefit from it.

We join the room, and we start a passionate frolic. As if driven by an intuition, he takes care of me. He takes the time to concentrate on my pleasure. His tong is a little too slow and reminds me that I tasted a much more agile language a few weeks earlier. He realizes that the pleasure doesn’t go up, he tries a few fingers, but it doesn’t have any more effect.

The orgasm doesn’t come

He gives up and grabs me with force. At last, I can see inside me how well Max is hung. I’ll have to get used to it again. Some positions make me climb to the ceiling, I bite him, I hold him close to me. It’s a really good moment, yet the pleasure doesn’t rise as I would like it to. A glass ceiling prevents me from reaching seventh heaven.

He falls down full on the bed, we cuddle and talk, then I run away, he remains pensive, he thought I was going to stay the night. Sorry my little Max, but you played before and you lost my desire for more than just a fuck now and then.

Waiting to enjoy

If even Max can’t make me forget the pleasure of my beautiful American caviar, I see only one solution… Wait.

I feel that there is one that will vibrate quite a bit while waiting.

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