Click, enter and done! After months of mental preparations for my trip to Europe, here I am scrambling to confirm arrangements less than two weeks before my departure. My procrastination in securing my travel plans doesn’t speak to my lack of enthusiasm for sure. In fact, I couldn’t be more excited to go London for the first time, and I tingle at the thought of meeting a few friends that I’ve been corresponding with online. Hundreds of hours of cyber-sex logged, mutual masturbation sessions, countless pics and naughty messages shared, and now I’m holding my itinerary in my hand which feels like a winning lottery ticket. I’m going to collect. Damn right, I’m excited. I’m not the only one excited though. My friends and colleagues are also counting down the days to my departure and offering me their well wishes, and suggestions about what to see throughout my travels. I’m naturally a private person, and without prying, they’ve all accepted my intentional vagueness about what my plans are, other than “seeing the sights.” How could I answer questions from those inquiring minds anyway? “Yes, I’ll be in Europe for a week and will readily fuck strange men that I have never met in person before.” Yeah right, those that don’t know that side of me wouldn’t believe it anyway, not for a second. I glance down at my itinerary again and almost chuckle when I don’t see the word “FUCK” printed in the summary details. After all, that IS a huge part of my trip to Europe. To be clear, I’m very much a lady. Milk-chocolate brown skin, five foot two, thick and curvy frame, round firm ass, shoulder length hair, and always having a fresh manicure and pedicure done. Attractive by most standards I’d say, and well aware of my femininity. Good genes allow me to be fresh faced and make up free…well, except for my lip gloss. Clear, melon scented and flavored with a low and discreet shine. How I love that stuff. My mother once said; “Every little girl grows up to a woman, but being a lady takes effort.” I never forgot those words gaziantep rus escort and they drive almost everything that I do. I am a lady….publicly. Those that know me privately have witnessed, tasted or FUCKED the lustful whore that shares my skin. Shares is being polite. Sometimes, the whore in me claims me whole, and is unapologetic as she ravages and has her way with a man. While observing, all the lady can do is wait, and clean up the mess afterwards, restoring all of the dignity that she possibly can. Teamwork. I love that. After researching and planning the details of my trip, twelve days later, I land in Heathrow Airport. As soon as the wheels touched down on the runway, the reverb sent tingles between my legs. I’m here. Although I was solo on my flight and did not know a soul in this country so foreign to me, I know he’s waiting for me at the arrivals gate. I claim my bag and scurry in the same direction that the throngs of people are heading in. Each step taking me closer to him, seizing the space between us. Before anxiety can settle in about meeting him, a more pressing thought intrudes and I wince at my appearance. I had experienced a full day of classes and errands before I departed for this six hour flight. Surely, it’s taken a toll on me, and both my physical and intimate appearance are under duress. I contemplate going into the bathroom to freshen up, but the lines at immigration are already threatening and lengthy, and I don’t want him to wait longer than he already has. After clearing immigration, I take the last turn to the arrivals gate. Nerves and excitement claim me as I will soon be face to face with him. My knees wanted to give way underneath me and for a moment, I wish I could pause this scene and collect myself. No time for that now, and I convince myself that I’ll have plenty of time to freshen up at the hotel. I exit the final door and within the sea of people, I spot him immediately. It’s seven am and he is bright eyed, rested, and as relaxed as much as I feel nervous. He confidently strides over to me, beaming widely and slips his hands around my waist and gently sends his tongue to find mine. After five seconds of kissing, he withdraws smiling, and says “Welcome baby.” “Thank you,” I blush, as the lady in me scans the crowd taking inventory of anyone who witnessed this public display of affection. Of course, I see some eyes on us, an interracial couple greeting each other intimately at the airport. Thank God my brown skin masks the blood rushing to my face, concealing my embarrassment. Teamwork. I love that. In one motion, the bags I struggle with are now in his command and rolling effortlessly to his car. As we exit the terminal, I sneak glimpses of him and compare it to the pictures and videos that he shared. He is well groomed, wearing nice shoes, black leather jacket and dressy casual clothing, and even more handsome than his pictures. Not that looks are everything, but I’m damned glad that he translated well. I, on the other hand, am feeling weathered and worn after twelve hours of travel. As I walk a foot behind him to his car, the lady in me chastises me every step of the way for not freshening up inside the last bathroom that I so foolishly passed. Too late now. He opens my car door and then walks around and places my bags in the trunk. As I open my legs to slip inside his vehicle, I’m mortified by the faint smell rising between my legs as I sit down. How embarrassing, I think and hope that he doesn’t notice. Honestly though, anyone with nostrils could smell me, so how could he not? The car door barely closes behind him before he’s cupping my face and pulling me in for a kiss with both hands. As the whore enjoys the gesture, the lady thinks, right here in full view? Before I could assess the parking garages level of privacy, I need to focus on coordinating my tongue with his. Damn…great kisser, I think to myself. After a minute or so, I feel his hand leave my face and make a descent for my left breast, and he begins to rub his thumb back and forth over my nipple like a miniature windshield wiper. My pussy responds promptly and I hear the lady bitch as she nags at me again. I reluctantly break away from his kiss and smile, trying to regain my composure and minimize the scent that wafts from my activated cunt. “It’s good to finally see you baby,” he quips. I blush as I look away and say, “You too baby.” Squeezing my legs together tightly, I am still trying to muffle the smell and extinguish the heat that both my journey and betraying throbs produce. Sensing my discomfort he looks at me, “Don’t.” he says as he smiles at me. “Don’t what, baby?” I chuckle as I feign ignorance. “Don’t be shy baby, I smell YOU. I smell HER,” he smirks. FUCK, I cringe helplessly. I don’t know whether to be embarrassed or aroused by his comment. I’m too shy to make eye contact with him at this point while I figure it out, so I plant a quick kiss on his cheek as I hope to distract him. “May I?” he asks, with a gesture towards my lap which is now locked like a steel cage. “Baby, I…” He wasn’t waiting for an answer. The question is merely a formality. He lifts my shirt slightly and slips his Ivory fingers between my brown skin and the waist band of my pants, and easily brushing pass my panties. His hands feel so warm and gentle and by instinct, I part my legs slightly. Within seconds, he maneuvers his fingers further down to my core and finds my entrance. His palm presses firmly against my mound while he slides his middle finger inside of me, shallow…then deep. I feel the heat and smell the foul and erotic scent from my pants, and my vulnerability consumes me. “Ahhhhh baby, you smell so fucking good,” he moans into my ear with his eyes closed. My God, I can’t believe he enjoys this naughty aroma so much. Like a starving man on scraps, he forages into my seasoned and musky box further and brings his wet fingers to his lips and sucks them. “Damn, you taste even better baby,” he says while he hungrily and blatantly slurps his fingers. The lady in me is struggling to hold on to some crumb of dignity, while the whore in me opens my legs wider.