Licking Experience
388
First Time Licking Experience of Shabri
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It is summer. We have an estimated 32 degrees in the shade, the sun is shining with a light breeze. It is a nice day, without annoying mosquitos, which we have had enough of in the past few days. I am at the lido in the neighboring town, less than 20 kilometers out into the countryside.
Shorts, a t-shirt and a pair of sneakers. More does not have to be in the heat. My name is Kabir. 24 years old, I am not a muscle man, but I never wanted to be relatively well built, but at 1.75m I have healthy and well-proportioned muscles, sinewy and without a gram too much on my ribs, photography-obsessed, always looking for action and looking for a load of adrenaline. You can see that I’m active in sports. Today, however, I have my camera with me again and am once again looking for suitable motifs. Here is a flower there a bee, there a starting Junkers 52. The only “troublemaker”. Click, click, click. A small airfield is less than 2 kilometers as the crow flies. Well, the picture was successful, so far nothing to complain about.
But now to the beach. There were many swans, geese and other wild birds to be photographed last year. The path leads through a small forest, you have to walk 10 minutes, not necessarily pleasant with all the stuff. Photo backpack, cool box, blanket, another backpack with changing clothes … you have something to wear. As soon as I’m out of the forest, I hear the other people who (unfortunately) came up with the same idea as me to spend a nice day on the beach. But well, what do you want to do. Then there are no wild bird photos today. Having arrived in the spacious meadow, I first look for a nice spot to lie down and relax, enjoying the sun. A big cherry tree, Free-standing in the middle of the meadow above the lake seems to be a good place to relax and watch. The next visitors are also a long way away, on the other side of the lake. Spread out the blanket in partial shade, but the camera equipment is ready, and do, ze off a bit.
Felt five seconds, and the relaxation is over. I seem to have gotten a ball. I open my eyes and immediately see this stupid inflatable ball that has strayed to me. Crap. Stretch first, wake up? I haven’t relaxed that long. Only now do I notice that the sun is on the other side of the tree. How long have I been away? Must have been 3 hours. I put the ball aside and first check my photographic equipment for completeness. Everything there. I look around, there are even more visitors than before. Easy three times as many, many families with their children. Now there are people on this side of the lake, the next ones are still a good 30 meters away, but still, slightly annoyed, I look around further, and then you notice me. She waves and comes lightly towards me it is her ball that woke me up. She comes to me, “Sorry, I didn’t want to meet you, the wind blew the ball towards you”.
I have to swallow briefly, the sight takes my breath away for a moment. The first thing I notice is their jet-black hair reaching to the bottom of their buttocks, so black that they get a bluish tinge in the sun. Immediately afterward her perfect skin, as white as the famous marble from Carrara, here and there in the right places little black birthmarks, no bigger than pinheads. About the size of me, around 1.75 meters. Rather, I don’t see the beautiful light blue dress covering the rest. It radiates pure eroticism, every movement is a challenge. “Which young woman still wears clothes today,” I ask myself involuntarily. Must be my lucky day.
“No problem, it’s not a foot or basketball.” I finally have my voice again. She takes the ball and has to walk around me. The dress only gives an idea of ?? the well-proportioned body in it.
“I hope I didn’t hit your camera ?!” it comes from her with a look at my opened photo backpack. “No no, such a ball can’t harm anything, don’t worry
… and the ‘you’ doesn’t have to be, I hope I don’t look that old yet”. That makes her laugh a little, a voice like honey.
“That’s right,” she says, “you don’t look old.” She looks at me, right in my eyes. If there were no emeralds on this planet, they would have to be invented to match the color of their eyes. She hesitates for a moment, then takes a step towards me, and shakes her hand. A pianist’s hand, soft, well-groomed hands with long, delicate fingers, “Shabri, and what’s your name?”
“Kabir, my name is Kabir Shabri … an unusual name … where are you from?”
“Out of town here, but my parents are from France and the Emirates. I think that’s what you wanted to do.” She sits on the blanket with me, my heart skips for 3 beats, “and yourself?”.
“I come from the neighboring town, my parents come from the Netherlands, Poland, and Sweden, a crazy combination, I know”. She looks at my camera, “May I?”
“Go ahead,” who would I be to refuse such a request. She grabs the camera, first looks at the control wheels on the top of the camera, turns the camera on, and looks through the viewfinder. “So you’re doing photography?” she asks me, looking further through the viewfinder and taking photos.
“Nah, actually it’s just a hobby, you know, go out on a nice day like today and see what you get in front of the lens. I’ve been around for a while, but just a hobby moderate.” Click, click, click … how many photos do you take? Not matter. I take a quick look around and look back at Shabri directly at the camera. CLICK. She laughs mischievously, my look must not have been the brightest. “I’d like a deduction from that.” She looks at the control buttons on the back of the camera, presses a few buttons, and goes to the archive. I take a closer look at you, she sits on the side of my robe. In profile, I see a beautiful nose, the chin, and the high cheeks. Cleopatra, on the other hand, is directly ordinary and uninteresting. The eyebrows, fine lines over the eyes, their eyelashes …
“You have a soft spot for flowers and insects, don’t you?”
She doesn’t turn her face away from the camera display, just looks at me seductively from the corner of her eye.
“Well, the blossom of a beautiful wildflower, a bee on it, these are things that I find beautiful. Who goes here anyway and just takes the time to observe?
You can see so much more if you just sit there and watch nature. You know, the thing with the bee and the flowers … who doesn’t find that? ” I make both of us laugh.
“Bee and flower … yes … you’re right. How long have you been doing this?”
We’re still smiling, “About three years now, but there’s not that much going on, beginners and so on. I sit and watch more than take pictures.”
“Did you watch me?” it comes from her. She doesn’t even lookup.
I catch my breath. Was I too obvious? “Err … well … when would I have that
… I mean … yes, why not?”
“Do you like what you saw?” It comes from her seductive and challenging.
I’m honest: “Yeah, I like what I see, why are you asking?” I want to turn the situation around and challenge you a little.
“What do you like? The weather, the lake, or what?” Not even the beginning of an answer; let’s play the game.
“You. I like the way you approached me, the way you talk to me, the way you move. Your hair, your marble-like skin. Your voice … just you.”
She looks at me “I like you too, only you should work on your dreams. Even if I liked the result, the dream is still the wrong one”
Dreams, result? What do you mean?
“I hope you have a good memory” she looks into my eyes for a long time, “because you won’t get a photo of me”. The last sentence is challenging and bold. “Hopefully you have a good memory”. She continues to look at me, opens the card slot without looking, and takes out one of the memory cards … the card with the pictures taken so far. The other leaves them in the shaft; intentionally? She gets up, I’m still sitting. She stands in front of me, bends down, and kisses me completely unprepared. Short but intense, as sweet as honeydew, so short and yet so endless, with the urge for more. She pulls away from me, takes the ball, takes a few steps backward “it was nice to meet you, Kabir. Maybe you’ll see each other again, who knows?” Again so challenging and cheeky. She turns and walks, holding up the memory card and shouting her last words over her wonderful shoulder: “I hope you have a good memory, I have you with me now.”
“How should you,” I think to myself. I quickly reach for my camera, instinctively I find the desired settings, adjust focus and magnification, I have Shabri in the viewfinder … I startle easily, she looks over my shoulder at me with a look that warms me up. I press the shutter release button, hold it down and take a picture after a photo, then she turns around, laughs, sticks my tongue out at me, and immediately throws a hand kiss at me, waves again, and turns around. Get out of my sight. “Shabri. I have you with me now” I say to myself. I look into the picture archive of the camera, and find the photos of her, they are the only pictures on the card. I have everything on it, the tongue, the kiss on the hand, the seductive shoulder look, just everything. Only then do I notice the backlight, the sun was probably right behind Shabri. Your body shines through the dress, or rather the outline. From behind, in profile, from the front. She looks beautiful, the breasts as far as I could see, not too big and not too small, a flat stomach, hips, and buttocks to kneel on, seemingly endless, delicate legs. She has no shoes. The face as she turns to me with the flying hair, the flying dress, her incredibly perfect white skin, and her captivating, emerald green eyes. All in a backlight that conjures up a glow of light around you as if you were an angel. the breasts as far as I could see, not too big and not too small, a flat stomach, hips, and buttocks to kneel, seemingly endless, delicate legs. She has no shoes. The face as she turns to me with the flying hair, the flying dress, her incredibly perfect white skin, and her captivating, emerald green eyes. All in a backlight that conjures up a glow of light around you as if you were an angel. the breasts as far as I could see, not too big and not too small, a flat stomach, hips, and buttocks to kneel, seemingly endless, delicate legs. She has no shoes. The face as she turns to me with the flying hair, the flying dress, her incredibly perfect white skin, and her captivating, emerald green eyes. All in a backlight that conjures up a glow of light around you as if you were an angel.
Share. Will I see her again? I still have a tingling sensation on my lips from her kiss. I don’t dare run my tongue over it, I want to keep the tingling sensation as long as possible.
I sit there with the camera in my lap for half an hour without moving. Only when it begins to dawn do I pack my things and go to the car.
A blade is stuck behind the wiper.
“My lips are still tingling from the kiss. I am happy to have seen you, hope you do not mourn for your wet dream from which I woke you up.
Dream about me! How
I kiss you, look at you, and seduce you. I kiss you, Shabri “.
Something is printed on the back. It is a picture. From me, sleeping in the meadow. She must have been with me before the situation with the ball and had taken my camera. Therefore the memory card. Now I understand Shabri’s allusion to the dream. In the picture, I am sleeping in the meadow
… with an erection exposed. She saw me, dreaming, and with an erection … she pulled my pants up to my knees and photographed the whole thing.
Hopefully, I’ll meet her again. She sees me and I see her. But not in the same way.
Shabri … I’ll be back tomorrow.
I fold the sheet, put it in the backpack with the camera, put everything in the car, and drive home.
In the next story, I will share with you another story named “Surprise Sex”
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The End.
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