Foreshadowing: A Night To Remember - Sex Stories

Foreshadowing: A Night To Remember

I have a little dirty confession to make. The Château le Comte is the scene of one of my oldest, almost compulsive and permanent erotic fantasies. I remember a stifling summer day, just a few months after I turned sixteen. In spite of the glaring sun and the heat wave my girlfriends and me would walk around the city during the weekends to celebrate our freedom and spend some money we have gained out of our temporary jobs. Our lean, blossoming bodies, flowing summer dresses and short skirts on the border of propriety attracted the appreciative male gazes. We basked in the attention and ran our tongues over the melting surface of our ice creams cones, pretending to be oblivious of the passion we stirred. One of our favorite destinations was exactly the Château le Comte. We'd stand outside and gape at the magnificent building that stood out against the hovering skyscrapers. Even at that hormonal age in which our sensuality was waking up and we were making our first insecure steps on the road to womanhood we seemed to harbor typical girly fantasies. During that summer those wet dreams were all set there, at that unreachable castle. When we would gather at my house for a sleepover party I suggested that we dressed in the sexiest underwear we had and tell each other of our naughtiest daydreams related to Château le Comte. At first the girls got a little embarrassed and even claimed that the idea was stupid. Finally they agreed, albeit reluctantly. I could tell they were curious ...

... but they'd never admit it. We gathered in a circle and took turns to share our intimate secrets. I decided to raise the stakes and kindle the passions by turning the lamps off and lighting some fragrant candles. There we stood like nymphs under the pale shining of the July moon that crept up our exposed thighs and the scent of cherry wax surrounding us. And yet, we couldn't be honest with each other. I had really hoped I'd hear some scandalous confessions. Instead all of them told trivial, safe stories of how they wanted to get married there some day or how some cute, romantic, rich guy would take them on a dinner date. They did mention they'd have sex but were very coy and not exactly detailed. I bet I'd shock the hell out of them if I told them what really made my thoughts run wild and my panties get drenched with arousal. I often lay awake with my fingers buried between the folds of my vulva and my fingers pinching my nipples while I imagined decadent orgies taking place between these inaccessible walls. My horny teenage mind drew exquisite pictures of well-groomed, elegant people who sip fine wine and engage in smart conversations on art, literature and science. And once the clock strikes midnight they strip their fancy clothes, put on carnival masks and give in to the raging lust that has been building up during the entire evening. Women and men of various body shapes and hair colors, dripping wet slits and turgid cocks leaking precum over the ladies' creamy thighs. Moans ...