London, the city of SEX! - Sex Stories

London, the city of SEX!

... back under the sofa and hastily rearranged the growing stiffy in his jeans. Michele didn't knock. 'Oh, yes. Zis is much better. Much better.' And then she handed Tom a plate with a couple of large croissants filled with sliced ham, camembert, and French mustard. 'I don't know if you've had zee chance to get any food,' she said. 'But these were left over. It would be a pity to throw them out. You can return zee plate in zee morning.' Later that night, tucked between the freshly-laundered sheets for the first night in his new home, Tom resumed perusing 'the world's leading naturist journal'. There were another three photographs of women displaying their pudenda that caught Tom's eye, and, while each had more than a passing attraction, Maria remained Tom's favourite. It didn't take long for his 19-year-old cock to rise to the occasion. And, as much as he tried to prolong the moment, it didn't take much longer for him to reach a shuddering climax and make a bit of a mess of the freshly -laundered sheets. The following day was Sunday and, after finishing tidying and cleaning the flat, Tom went for a long walk, exploring his new neighbourhood, trying to figure out where everything was. Where were the food shops? Where was the nearest bank? The nearest post office? The shortest route to the Tube station? He had not long returned to the flat when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Once again, Michele did not bother to knock. She just walked in and placed a plate with a large wedge of ...

... Tarte aux Pommes on the table. 'Such a pity to waste,' she said. Michele looked around the room and nodded. 'Much better.' Michele crossed the room and looked into the kitchen. 'Très bonne,' she said. 'Much, much better.' And then she inspected the bedroom and returned with a cheeky smile on her face. 'Ah! You are zee naturist, no?' 'What?' And then Tom realised that Michele must have spotted the rescued copy of Health & Efficiency. 'Oh, no.' 'But you 'ave zee magazine, mon chéri.' 'Oh, that? Yes. The, umm ... the magazines belong to Arnold.' Michele seemed a little disappointed. 'Oh,' she said. 'So you are not zee naturist then?' 'No.' She nodded. 'Perhaps it is too cold here in Britain. Perhaps it is better in France. Or Spain.' 'I guess so,' Tom said. Michele shrugged her shoulders. 'Ah, well. Perhaps one day you can 'ave zee chance to go where it is warmer, and then you can be zee naturist. It would agree with you, I think. Yes? All zee naked bodies.' Perhaps for the first time in his relatively short life, Tom was suddenly aware of a woman - an older woman at that - looking him up and down in a way that hinted at carnal intent. Monday was Tom's first day at the agency. He arrived early and had to wait almost three-quarters of an hour for his assigned mentor, Warren, the senior print buyer, to arrive. Tom quickly formed the impression that Warren was not happy with his new role as babysitter. 'I don't expect to have to tell you everything ten times,' Warren said. 'Here's ...