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Part 1. A girl in Rome, Showing myselfI was too excited to care too much about the state of the hotel, this was Rome and there was so much to see and do, my mother looked into my room, ‘How is it dear’, she asked me, her voice tinged with disappointment, as the real thing fell somewhat short of the brochures glossy photos, and the manager looked like someone out of a seedy porn scene from one of Tinto Brass’s movies, don’t get me wrong, I might still be a girl emerging from a pre-puberty state, but I have been a fan since I first watched Lola at twelve, and found the delights of masturbation, I fell in love with eroticism and my fingers, in that order, that night two years back.I was a tall girl for my age, tomboyish, my lack of chest and short cropped hair adding to that illusion, I noted the hotel manager’s delight when I spoke and he realized I was a female, and not a boy, I just smiled demurely as I noted his hairy nostrils flare, as if sniffing the air for tell-tale scents my warm cunt might be emitting, or was that thought just mine and my perception of dirty older men?Thankfully neither of my parents noticed as they were too busy taking notes of the dilapidated state of their surroundings, but somehow I was happy, I was in a foreign land know for its relaxed air on matters sexual, and I was entering that age where it mattered to me, I was bolu escort Lola and already being desired, so why not smile demurely, as if offering this dirty seedy creature my valued Hymen, Tinto Brass, you have a lot to answer too, for enticing young girls.The room was sparse, a single bed and wardrobe, a small bedside cabinet and full length wall mirror at the foot of the bed, a wash basin and an effort of a shower in a closet, something my mother noticed, ‘Dont forget to lock your door before showering’, I looked over my shoulder at the glass door, ‘No mummy, I’ll leave it wide open’, I replied with a hint of sarcasm in my voice, she smiles and left.I bounced on the bed, good mattress, I thought, and instinctively opened each of the three drawers in turn, a bible, in the top, a magazine (With loads of sexy stuff), in the middle, and the bottom one was the most interesting, a pair of woman’s panties, a hand carved wooden phallic shaped object, as if hastily shaped by a frustrated woman with a pen-knife.I was neither appalled or disgusted by either object, they appeared clean, the panties were flimsy and see-through, the wooden dildo, crude but functional, and I moved it between my long fingers as if getting it off, moving in front of the mirror and holding it out as if I were a boy, stroking it, even pretending to go as far as making the noise bolu escort bayan of ejaculating two huge spurts of semen, after a satisfying wank.I opened the top drawer and placed this venerable object beside the holy bible, like some nun in her closet in the convent, well it would be hand crafted, I am sure mail on-line orders to sex shops would be forbidden in such establishments.The noise of traffic caught my attention and I instinctively turned to the window, the heat was oppressive and I noted the sweat rings under my arms, so I pulled off my top, and momentarily admired my upper attributes in the full mirror, which were nothing really, just a pair of ‘Puffy nipples’, and angular shoulders.I walked across to the window and pulled the curtains fully open, and looked out.We were three stories up, looking down on a busy side street, the buildings opposite looked their age, with little balconies on the second tier, one of which caught my eye, or should I say, I caught his, as he was staring directly at me, but I braved it and stood my ground, letting him take in the view, convincing myself I looked like a boy from that distance, and as suddenly as he looked he averted his gaze in another direction, and I cursed my lack of breasts, desperate to attract men to want me.There was a knock on the room door, and mother called out to see if escort bolu I wanted to go walk-a-bouts, ‘Yes’, I called back, ‘Give me a moment’, as I turned back to see if the man across the street was looking again, he wasn’t.The door knocked again and I could feel my teenage angst rise, ‘Fuck’, flashed through my angry brow, and I marched to the locked door and opened it.I stood framed in the doorway, one hand on the frame and the other on the open door, like a crucifiction without the cross, the look on the hotel managers face, was as if he had just won the final number on his euro-lottery.He blinked furiously and I made no effort to cover-up, instead my puffy-nipples blossomed to newer size I never thought I had, as blood flowed and they turned a deeper red, I saw him draw his tongue across his dry lips, the tray he held shook, and the glass tumbler rattled against the bottled water, ‘Too fucking late’, flashed through my mind, but my body was way ahead of my mind, it was shouting sex, as my mind raced in many different directions between, what to do and what not to do, all the time my nipples told him I was excited by his presence, as the grew and changed color.I stood aside, like a rabbit, as he came inside the room and placed the tray on the side table, then I realized to my horror I had not shut the top drawer, as he took in the wooden dildo, he turned and smiled, ‘I am sorry to interrupt you’, he said somewhat sleazily, I sucked my tummy in, neither confirming his insinuation, or denying it, just smiling and hoping my bared nipples showed him I was a woman in the making.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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