Goddess of the Moon - Sex Stories

Goddess of the Moon

... excited to be in a new city far away from home. You can't wait to see everything and experience new things. You've got it all planned out, the sights, the museums, galleries, theatre shows, tea at the Ritz, Buckingham palace, but first, lessons. It's Monday, quarter to nine in the morning. You've taken the tube for two stops and are now walking the short distance to my house, following the directions on your phone. You are immaculately dressed in the designer clothes you and your mum went to Istanbul to buy specially for this summer. Clothes your father would never approve of, despite being far from slutty. Fitted capri pants expose a little calf, a long, unstructured summer jacket over a lacy top. It's very see-through, but you wear a camisole to preserve your modesty. On your feet, simple Gucci sandals, showing off your perfectly pedicured and painted toes. On your head, of course you wear your başörtüsü. You might be far from home, but God is everywhere. Today it’s a brightly coloured and patterned silk scarf from Hermès. Instead of being pulled tightly and pinned in the Turkish style, you have it loosely wrapped. There’s even a tiny bit of hair poking out from underneath. As long as you still pray five times each day, you are sure Allah won't mind. After university you'll go on hajj to Mecca, that'll erase any little sins you commit here. As you walk you become aware of how nervous you are. You've never been alone with a man who wasn't a blood relative before, not even ...

... for five minutes. Now you are going to spend three hours with me, a man you’ve never met, at my house, in a strange country. It's not that you think I'll do anything. I'm a teacher, a respectable person, but you're still anxious. This is liberal London, it's perfectly normal for men to be alone with women here. You suppress your nerves and continue walking up the street of little terraced houses where I live. You ring my doorbell briskly. I don't keep you waiting long before opening up. Immediately, I am struck by your beauty. I was not expecting you to be this pretty. I don't know what I was expecting exactly, but I never imagined the vision of loveliness standing before me. You're wearing quite a lot of make-up, even though you don't need any at all. It doesn't look tarty or trashy in any way, it's expertly applied. Your huge, hypnotic, hazel brown eyes are accentuated with black mascara and heavy eye-liner. Natural coloured lipstick on your full, perfectly shaped lips. Your nose is cute, not too big or misshapen in any way. Strong, pronounced cheekbones and little dimples when you smile. Your eyebrows are thick and shaped so they're completely symmetrical. Flawless skin. I can tell even with all the make-up, your complexion a wonderful shade of olive. I don't think I've ever seen a girl quite like you before. For a moment I am struck dumb. We just stand there, staring at each other. After I don't know how long, I manage to snap out of it and say, “You must be Selen. Hi, come ...