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Free Jenny's encounters continue with an introduction to bondage. Videos

Cock blocking is not a good idea.

Sabine removed her jacket and shoes, and I did the same. We sat on cushions on the floor. Then she got up to put on some music. Sade's sultry voice filled the airwaves.

She returned from her errand with her starched oxford shirt completely unbuttoned. Her gorgeous titties, clad in black lace, peered out at me. Her flat belly was pierced. She dropped her pants onto the floor in a heap and stepped out of them like a panther, her smooth, olive-toned legs inviting me to appreciate her shapely calves and her pedicured feet, painted in the same flamingo shade as her fingernails. As she moved towards me, I caught another whiff of her strangely stirring perfume. Everything about her was a stirring invitation to sensual delight.

"Would you like a Porto?"

"A what?"

"Port wine-- sherry -- from Portugal."

"Yes, thanks. When do you have to be at work?"

"It's a Spanish law firm. We follow the siesta. I work from eight to noon, and go back at three-thirty to seven-thirty."

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Two hours, I'm exhausted. But ..."

Sabina turned to a 2x2' little niche built into the wall that served as a minibar to retrieve two glasses and a bottle. She bent down, her delicious breasts dangling like luscious fruits before my eyes. I could see her dark areolas through the lingerie. They were large, like black cherry moons, unlike my own small, pink ones. It took all the restraint I had not reach out like a cad and squeeze the goods. I had to remember to be patient.

She set two port glasses down on a low sofa table. They gleamed with spotless shine in the light of an afternoon sunbeam. Ah, vive la France. Who does that? Who polishes their port glasses?

Sabine uncorked the bottle, and poured two inches of the rich burgundy liquid into each glass.

I was struck for a moment. "Isn't this all kind of radical for an Muslim?" I asked.

I don't think she liked the question very much. Plunging her three middle fingers into her glass, she reached over and smeared my lips and face with the sherry. Laughing, she dipped and smeared again. The wine was dripping off her fingers and off my face, staining our clothes, my white cotton shirt and her white oxford, in deep maroon splotches. And I didn't care.

Sabine licked, and sucked on her fingers. As I watched her moist, pink lips suck, leaving waxy pink stains on her skin, I could feel the wetness saturating my thong. She proceeded to dribble some wine down her arm, and watched me watch her in open lust as her tongue darted in and out, licking and sucking the inside of her forearm as if it was another tender, sensitive place instead.

She moved into my lap and took the taste of the Port from my lips. Here lips were full, rich, moist, and so soft -- it was so unlike kissing a man. The very difference of it made my clitoris throb with anticipation. As she probed my mouth, she pressed her titties against mine. I could feel her nipples through the lace. I came undone and could resist them no longer. I unclasped her bra in the front and, filling my mouth with liquid, placed my mouth over her nipples and sucked the liquid down. Her heavy breasts filled my hands like binoculars as I sucked the port from each purple areola. I was ecstatically aroused.

And she liked it.

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