Croatian Members

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The story of Croatian Members

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The small clouds above me in the sky had quickly disappeared and I felt the heat of the sun on my skin again; the gentle wind cooled imperceptibly, and although in early October I enjoyed lying naked on my back in the small Croatian bay.

Warm rock nestled against my buttocks and warmed my back and thighs, and the sun did the same to my front, with my stomach, chest, and thighs – and the small, flaccid penis that rested on the scrotum in between.

It was a wonderful afternoon. The small, hidden bay was made for me. For three days afternoon, I had climbed down the steep path that meandered between thorns and rocks, and then came out from under the pine trees into the tiny, fairytale bay.

The shallow water was turquoise and so clear that you could count the spines of the sea urchins on the bottom; as it got deeper, the color changed to a rich, warm blue. Flat, light beige rocks lined the bay all around, beyond which the Croatian scrubland rose. My bed was on one leg of the bay, a gently sloping rock, surrounded by tall chunks that were eaten by the weather, and which thus had the most bizarre shapes. Opposite me, on the other leg of the bay, was a small fishing hut right on the water. In front of it stood a table, two chairs, and a weathered wooden bench. Barrels lined up along the rocks; a green net with white floats hung to dry; if it wasn’t real, it would be unnaturally cheesy.

Since the bay could only be reached via the somewhat arduous path – so I assumed at least – I was now alone and undisturbed for the third time and could enjoy my vacation naked. I read naked, I bathed naked, I climbed naked in the rocks and nearby bushes, I ate and drank naked – or sunbathed naked, as I did now.

From time to time I turned or sat up, drank water, or marveled at the peaceful bay.

Then I suddenly noticed that the door to the fisherman’s hut was open. On the three afternoons, I was here, the hut was never open, or even busy. Now and then a fishing boat came into the bay, but they left me alone in my nudity. But nobody had ever moored at the hut.

I lay down again, this time on my side, and looked at the hut from time to time.

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There! Suddenly someone stepped out of the darkness into the sun. It seemed to be a woman because I recognized her long, dark hair and it felt like she was wearing a dark swimsuit. I couldn’t see it exactly, it was too far away for that; I closed my eyes again and dozed off. When I looked up again, the woman was sitting at the table in front of the hut.

I closed my eyes again until I suddenly thought I heard the splashing of water. Not the constant rippling and gurgling, but a louder sound. I looked up and the woman was gone. I was about to close my eyes when I saw her head in the water. So she had jumped into the water; I watched her for a moment, then the glare of the light in the water blinded me too much and I closed my eyes again.

I turned back on my back and opened my legs slightly; my scrotum was hanging heavily between my thighs, the penis rested on it, bent slightly to the left.

I only opened my eyes again – and raised my head in horror when the woman shot out of the water a few meters in front of me.

And I was even more startled when I found that she was naked.

Without paying any attention to me, without saying a word, she climbed over the rock, her long black hair stuck to her, the water ran from her body and dripped onto the stone. She was tall, slim, maybe thirty, thirty-five, and had heavy, firm breasts with large yards and dark nipples that stiffened from the water. Her bosom swayed gently with every step. Her waist was narrow and her hips were wonderfully round. When she came to feed, I briefly saw the fisherman’s hut between her thighs, then my eyes were caught by her vulva, the dark, small lips. I saw the incision in her vagina and above it was a small, sharply delineated triangle of thick, dark curls.

I did not get any further with my considerations, for the woman lay on her stomach on the belly a meter away from me. She crossed her arms and rested her head on it, face to face, eyes closed.

Not a word.

I didn’t know if I should breathe, if I should grab my towel and cover my little penis if I should say something … I just took a shy look to the side, prepared to close my eyes at any moment, in case she should open hers. Her firm breast bulged out from under her torso and I even thought I saw the edge of the big moon. Her backline gracefully sank against her hip and then merged into the breathtaking curve of her buttocks.

I closed my eyes for a moment and when I opened them again, she was lying on her back, arms outstretched by her side. Her full breasts seemed so firm that the breasts were still a wonderful curve even when she was lying on her back; the nipples were still cheeky. Over her belly, I saw the curly delta of her pubic, the small, dense triangle of seductive femininity that only directs the gaze towards her fruit. But I couldn’t see her sweet fruit now. Her head was back on me and her eyes were still closed. Did she watch me from tiny slits?

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Not a word.

I closed my eyes again and gave myself a moment of lazy warmth under the Croatian sun. I found myself watching the movie again in her head that she offered me when she got out of the water. When I saw the fisherman’s hut between her thighs and then for a moment the petals of her flower in front of me, the inevitable happened: my penis started to twitch and straightened up between my thighs. To my horror, the foreskin had pulled back a little and now half of the purple tip is shining out. What should I do? Since I shaved my pubic shave completely, everything was visible. I decided to take a quick look over at her. Maybe she kept her eyes closed and I could turn away discreetly.

Her eyes were open. She smiled. And she looked directly at my cock ….

Not a word.

Before I could think or do anything, she sat up – her breasts were swinging – got up and came over to me.

A second later, she was sitting on my lap, my semi-rigid penis nestled against her flower and the base of her buttocks. She was still smiling. As she leaned forward, her sweet fruit rubbed against my growing penis. Her full breasts swung in front of my face as she sank lower and breathed a kiss on my forehead. While her hands rested on my chest and stroked warts, mine slid up automatically and embraced her wonderfully large breasts. They were heavy, firm, and wonderful. I rubbed her nipples and she pinched mine. To do this, she gently moved her pelvis all the time, rubbing her juicy pussy against my penis, which now pressed hard and erect against her abdomen, the exposed glans in the cleft of her butt.

I looked into her eyes and sank into the dark sea of ?? the Adriatic. Her damp, black hair swung around her face like seaweed, and little drops beaded on my chest. She smiled. It was beautiful.

Not a word.

I stroked her firm breasts, lifted the heavy curves, played with the nipples, and never let go of her eyes. She pinched my nipples and I groaned. Slowly she sank onto my upper body and pressed her breasts against my chest. She kissed me softly on the lips, then rose again. While her hip was still rolling, she slid up on me, slid her wet fruit down my stomach, up my chest, and stopped when her black curly triangle was inches from my face. I marveled at the small lips that arched over the outer ones, one protruded a little more clearly and gave her pussy the image of a flower, the bud of which opened. Her shame was thick and black, like her hair, like her eyes. When I closed my hands around her plump bottom and gently lifted her butt, she let me do it. When I pressed my mouth to her fruit, my nose in the thicket of her bush, she let me do it. When I sucked her scent out of the curls, opened my mouth, and slipped my tongue between her labia, she let me do it – and reached back and enclosed my stiff cock with a firm hand.

When I felt her salt and that of the sea on my tongue, she rubbed my upright belt in long movements.

While the waves in the sea washed over the shells, I licked their shells, while the salt dried on the rocks, their salt melted in my mouth.

Not a word.

After a while, she pulled away from me, slid down my torso, and sat on my cock, with two fingers she led my glans to her wet crevice and then lowered her body onto my hard post. My hard penis penetrated deep inside and churned her sea. She rose until my cock almost slipped out of her shell, then speared herself again. She rode my spanking with embers, pride, and lust

– and her heavy breasts swung back and forth. I grabbed her buttocks and split the bulging balls every time she drove down on my strap and squeezed them together as they went up to my cock.

This had never happened to me before, and I didn’t think it was happening to me now – I just knew that this woman would soon suck me to the last drop.

She rolled her hips again, which always made my penis tip rub against her vaginal wall – and now she began to moan: softly, with a rough voice, like the Croatian wind that swept across the acacia and juniper.

I reached forward and put my thumb on the spot where I suspected her hidden pleasure button and was rewarded with a hoarse groan. She rode even wilder and her breasts swayed even more; her hair flew and my tail started to twitch, my inside boiled and my blood spilled.

I groaned loudly as she dropped on my butt and when I exploded she grabbed her breasts, pressed them up, and twirled the nipples – and screamed.

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My volcano burst and burned up, three suns sprayed in the sky and the sea foamed over and made the island shake.

In long bursts, my sperm shot out of my cock and squirt her shell full, shot the dark-haired beauty high in the sky, and let her dance on clouds. Again and again, I spat my cream into her – and was poured over by her juice. We twitched, trembled, writhed, and groaned …

And not a word.

The storm gradually subsided, the waves subsided and the suns melted into one. Slowly the woman settled on me, her breasts on my chest, my penis in her shell, our juices between us. I felt her curls on my shaved bald shame. I felt her nipples and the pressure of her breast against my chest. I felt her breath on my cheek.

Not a word.

After hours of minutes she slipped from me and lay down next to me, my flabby penis slid out of her wet fruit, and her hand lay on the wet skin at the base of my cock. She played briefly with my soft member, took it in hand.

I brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

When she sat up, she kissed me gently on the forehead and whispered:

“Hvala …” Thank you, then she got up, went to the water with a bumping bottom, and jumped into the sea. I saw the fisherman’s hut between her thighs for a moment before her shell disappeared into the waves.

I watched her until she got to the other end of the bay, how she got out of the water and took her swimsuit at the table, how she went into the hut and closed the door behind her …

The End.

In the next story, I will share with you another story named “Sex After the Bike Tour”

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