Tinder in Colombia is a Different Ball Game - Sex Stories

Tinder in Colombia is a Different Ball Game

... hot. She could be sexy. Long brunette hair all the way down her back, smokey eyes, slim without being anorexic, perfect proportions all the way around. Tits that were just big enough to be a handful. She was tad on the young side for me, but absolutely smoking hot, and seemed like a lot of fun in an unhinged hyperactive way. Trouble was she could only do Wednesday or Saturday night. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and I wished we’d done Wednesday instead of Viviana. We had another dilemma. Daniela wasn’t too comfortable travelling into the main area of the City alone and, as a foreigner, taking a trip into the neighbourhoods of Medellin was obviously not wise and potentially dangerous. A couple of Jack Daniels, the promise of a homecooked meal and some pussy was all it needed to get me to ignore all common sense and travel advisories. I hopped straight in a taxi and headed to Danielas. Voy a el barrio mi amigo.

Credit where credit is due. At 19 I could only make a pot noodle. Daniela came out of her kitchen like a little chef butterfly juggling plates of Empanadas, cutlery, glasses and all sorts of dips. She handed me a bottle of beer that she had taken the liberty of opening. If I was about to be drugged and kidnapped, this would have been the moment.

It became obvious why she was so restricted on nights she could meet up. There was toddler paraphernalia tucked into corners of her living room. Wednesday and Saturday must have been her night off from being a ...

... mum.

After dinner and a bottle of wine we hit harder beverages while watching some bullshit on Netflix. She was like 63 episodes deep, of about 1004 in total. Dios mio! My Spanish wasn’t the best and Daniela spoke with a lot of slang. I could barely understand her. The language of lust however needed no words.

Gradually throughout the night, as if perfectly normal she stripped off her clothing bit by bit, until she was sitting there in just a bra and panties. The more alcohol consumed, the more playful she got. She had ended up sitting in my lap while watching this show, which allowed me to run my hands all over her body, and over the top of her panties. I was totally not interested in the telenovela and completely focused on grabbing handfuls of Danielas breasts in-between caressing the rest of her tight body. She ended up straddling me. We kissed. Then she started pulling my hair, clawing at my back and biting my shoulder.

Wait, what the fuck. Was this a playfight? Or was she actually fighting me here. The force of her teeth sinking into my flesh said real fight. The psychotic giggle said play. We rolled about pawing and gripping onto each other until we were on her floor. I managed to pin her face down. She giggled and said something I didn’t understand in rapid Antioquean dialect. It sounded like a dare.

I pushed her hard against the floor and peeled her panties down, followed by my trousers. Her flailing hands reached around from under her and grabbed at my boxers. With ...