London, the city of SEX! - Sex Stories

London, the city of SEX!

... the agency world with a small libation. 'A cup of coffee?' 'Fuck that,' Laura said. 'Mine's a gin. But I'll make you a coffee - if that's what you want.' Laura's flat was in the basement of a Victorian house in Elgin Crescent. 'This is nice,' Tom said. 'You have a garden.' 'It belongs to my aunt,' Laura said. 'But she spends most of her time in Spain.' 'Spain? Yes. I gather it's quite warm in Spain.' 'That's why my aunt lives there. She has a camping ground. For nudists. Or naturists, as they prefer to be called.' 'Have you been there?' Tom asked. 'Spain? Or the camping ground?' 'I was meaning Spain,' Tom said, hastily. 'Yeah. A few times. I've also been to the nudist camp. That's also quite fun.' Tom tried to imagine Laura without any clothes. She had nice legs. But her geometric-patterned dress didn't really give away too many clues about the body beneath. Laura took a gulp of her gin and tonic. 'I bet you like a bird in the buff,' she said. Tom could have said: Well, actually, I've never really seen one. Not in real life. In magazines, of course. Maria on her bar stool. But not in real life. But, somehow, he didn't think that Laura would believe him. 'Oh yeah, who doesn't?' he said. Laura nodded. 'Let's go through to the bedroom,' she said. Boy, Notting Hill was certainly a bit different from High Wycombe. In High Wycombe it had taken Tom almost six months to get his finger into Doris Smith's snatch. And that was in the dark. He never actually got to see what he was ...

... exploring. Laura's bedroom was a bit like a library with a bed in it. 'You've got a few books,' Tom said. 'One or two,' Laura confirmed. She sat on the edge of the bed and removed her boots. And then she stood up again. Right in front of Tom. 'Are you going to unzip me or what?' Tom started to reach around behind her in search of a zip. Laura smiled. 'It's here. In the front,' she said. 'More convenient.' Tom found the little tab and began to slowly lower it. He wondered if he should kiss Laura or something, but she didn't seem to be interested in anything other than shedding her dress. Tom was a little surprised to discover that Laura was not wearing a bra. Not that she really needed to. Her breasts were quite small - but beautifully shaped. Tom was tempted to kiss them. But he didn't. A couple of inches below the waistband of Laura's bright blue tights, the zip tab can to a stop. 'Thank you,' she said. A brief shimmy and the dress fell to the floor. And then, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of the tights, she removed them - together with her knickers - almost in one smooth movement. 'What do you think?' she said. 'OK?' 'Beautiful,' Tom heard himself say. 'Yes, beautiful.' Tom tried not to focus on Laura's crotch, but the fact of the matter was that he was cunt struck. No magazine photograph could have done it justice. The plump mound. The soft, sparse covering of blonde hair. The plump outer lips. And the already-glistening inner lips peeping out from within. It was ... ...