Ludmilla’s Muse

Şubat 18, 2021 0 Yazar: admin

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Sung-heon was mortified to find an erotic story included in the collection he sent Ludmilla. It was a dream-like account of distant cousins engaging in mutual masturbation in a sweltering Bisang-Dong apartment shower after a walk in nearby DaiSung Park. To his further chagrin, Ryang was as singularly committed to being a lawyer as Ludmilla was to being a film maker. Ludmilla was the only woman with whom Sung-heon had a sense of parity since the semester started and the previous 2 months concluded with her asking him to collaborate after several badminton matches.

Ludmilla was at their usual table at Joe and Joe’s, sipping tea and sketching in her notebook when he was struck with the moment, the first he’d seen her shoulders. Sung-heon steeled himself for the worst and walked directly to her. She regarded him nonchalantly, “Hello, Sung-heon.”

Sung-heon took a deep breath and waited for the pause between his heart’s rapid-fire thwacks before he blurted, “I’m sorry about the story I sent you -“

“Don’t be. I knew it was there by accident. It didn’t have a title, and we’re adults.” Ludmilla assured him, the tingling between her legs causing her to cross them. “It was very good.” Her words straightened his posture, genuinely surprised at her reaction before her appearance registered. He averted his eyes from the rising and falling outlines of her petite, bahis firmaları up-jutting breasts under her off the shoulder blouse. She gestured for him to sit, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Yes, of course.” Sung-heon obliged, she offered him half of a bagel topped with pesto and cream cheese that he nibbled politely. Ludmilla cataloged places on her body for him to do the same, less politely.

“Was it from personal experience?” Ludmilla perceived Sung-heon had no idea how badly she wanted him, distracted by the thin crimson streak across her lips.

“Yes.” Sung-heon blushed and Ludmilla regretted not wearing underwear briefly, squeezing her thighs on a warm, sticky splotch. “You look very nice today.”

“Thank you. I have to go now but we’ll meet after class as usual?” Ludmilla brushed bagel crumbs from her pencil skirt and stockings before shouldering her messenger bag after standing up.

“Yes, that will be very good.” Ludmilla tousled his hair playfully with a hand, also the first she had done that, surprising Sung-heon with her exit. Their destination was a long, black metal bench on a brick patio under a veranda that overlooked a canyon in the garden of a historic home in the park, a California afternoon in warm light.

“What do you think?” Ludmilla asked, removing drinks from her bag as they sat. “I want to use this for a scene kaçak iddaa in a movie.”

“It’s very pretty. And quiet, secluded.” Ludmilla’s occasional glances at him became more obvious. Even with acne, Sung-heon’s boyishly charming face made his nervousness especially endearing when he spilled the last of his drink. Yes, here, thought Ludmilla, today, now.

“Give me your bottle,” she directed and grazed his hand with hers before taking it, gauging his reaction with a sly smirk, leaving him to discard them, and survey the area for possible intruders. Americans always seemed to jog through their parks, never actually sit in them, a shame, really.

Sung-heon was pleasantly confused when Ludmilla returned and sitting close enough to overlap her bare shoulder on his, he flinched. She teased, “Don’t you like me, Sung-heon?”

Violets, honey and oatmeal wafted up his nostrils, confounding his reason and reddening his cheeks. Ludmilla giggled and lurched forward, propelled by her petals’ damp opening and a resulting trickle. “You are very beautiful, Ludmilla.” he admitted. “I daydream of you often.”

Ludmilla turned to slide her hand up his thigh slowly, breathing on him heavily. Sung-heon was her physical equal as her mental, rangy and lean. “Kiss me.”

Sung-heon gave her the sweetest, most innocuous buss that sparked her most primal fury, her kaçak bahis hand encircling the burgeoning mound in his pants. He recoiled, stammering, “I’ve not, I mean-“

Ludmilla’s olive and pineapple flecked eyes widened in excited recognition. “You’re a virgin? I’m your first?”

Sung-heon nodded. Ludmilla’s other hand jabbed into her purse, crinkled something out while straddling him, hiking up her skirt, retrieving and fondling his rigid sex from his pants. It felt shaped for her delights. She sealed his mouth when his jaw fell open, invading it with her tongue. “Untie my blouse,” she gasped. “Feel my body.”

His fingers surveyed her torso, slowly accounting for every nuance of her skin. Ludmilla unwrapped the condom, sheathed and descended on his cock. Sung-heon bolted upright, aligning his mouth to her petite cones and Ludmilla pushed one into his mouth, before grabbing the bench and milling her hips onto him. Sung-heon’s tongue swished across her stiff, swollen nipples, his groans resonating into her chest.

Ludmilla threw her head back, growling triumphantly, ecstasy radiating their conjointment. Sung-heon muffled groans grew longer, she extracted her breast from his mouth, he grimaced. “I want to see you cum,” she hissed. “Cum for me, Sung-heon. Cum for me.”

Sung-heon’s mouth contorted, he lunged into her depth, finding a place only she knew, thrilling Ludmilla. His face between states of pleasure, Sung-heon cried out softly, squeezing her hips, Ludmilla’s sex devoured his ebbing surges and pulses, savoring his surrender between them, she kissed him wildly.

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