精英 老 男人

Everyone who had witnessed that explosion now realized that nothing on Earth could stop him. This is not necessarily a story per se, but don’t let that fool you: there will be plenty of touching skin and outbursts of pleasure. This writing, however, is more of a factual breakdown, a first look on what’s happening in one of the best-known tourist attractions in Europe, a place where sin and lust live together in tiny rooms, a place as despicable as it is intriguing, where the rich and the poor, the famous and infamous are all alike. It is the front page of mankind’s obsession with procreation, the quintessence of the original sin: Amsterdam’s Red Light District. In the old center of Amsterdam, situated around two of the world’s most famous canals and literally nothing more than a stone’s throw away from the biggest square in the entire city, lies a collection of narrow streets, paved with cobblestones and crooked tiles. The buildings are old, but their inhabitants aren’t: they are the beating heart of a dark part of tourism, one that is often tucked away behind walls and doors, but is brought to the surface in this small, yet bizarre area. Walls are traded for windows, through which every passer-by gets a sneak peek into this strange world. One thing has to be made perfectly clear, although it may be a bit of a buzzkill. While the face of this world is one of beauty and pleasure, underneath it lies, and has lied for centuries, a deep connection with the underworld, criminal organizations, human trafficking and force, dating back to even the colonial era that made the Dutch into what are today, but at a huge moral cost. On the other hand: despite what happens in backrooms and other off-radar places, the vast majority of what tourists get to see and do is fully legal, well-regulated, and very, very lucrative. But enough about that. For most, the Red Light District is a place of fun. Where in the world can a person walk around a city center, allowed to peek into people’s bedrooms, where beautiful creatures are not only showing themselves off, but also whispering: for the right price, anything is possible. This was not so much a realization I had when I first walked these streets, when I was a young boy, on my way to yet another museum our teacher had lined up for us. Back then, it was merely the sight of a woman in a bikini that did something to this boy in Blowjobs the same way it would at the beach, or the pool. Only when I was a student, and I moved from a rural town to the big city, my fascination for this enclave of pleasure started to grow. At first, I only visited. I walked by, barely made eye contact with the girls behind the glass who were trying to sell themselves. But the greater the fascination became, the more I started to accept the fact that I couldn’t stay a tourist in my own town forever. Yes, let’s make this fully and entirely clear: on more group sex than one occasion have I spent time on the other side of those walls, accompanied by a beautiful girl. And never in my life have I felt shame, or regret, for doing so. It may sound like an excuse, and I will explain in a bit why it isn’t, but the first time I visited a girl, it was for research purposes. I was writing what I thought then would inevitably become my debut novel, a story about a boy from Amsterdam who is destined to be the ruler of the District. More than once, I had to describe what happened between the moment an anxious looking fellow sneaks through one of those doors, and, later, reappears, sometimes fully satisfied, often even more on edge than before. I had no idea what happened, though, and I figured I could ask anybody, but the best source would always be myself. And so, on a hot summer day, encouraged by a few beers and a hormonal destiny to unload, I accepted a girl’s wink and stepped inside. There are two people in this world: those who have been inside one of those rooms, and those who haven’t. To those that have, I would say: enjoy this feast of recognition. For everybody else, I will try to explain the feeling a nineteen-year-old gets in a situation like this. First, there is this realization that should not be taken lightly: the realization that sex is inevitable. It’s the same feeling one gets when the girl you met at the bar invites you in after you walked her Old Farts home; when your crush asks whether you brought condoms; when your girlfriend texts you she is home alone. The sounds and colors were like crack to them. No big deal, he’d seen a lot more than that before and he’d inspected us lots of times before. As I looked down I Old Farts noted that he had his own cock in his hand and he was trying to reignite it as he watched. “Hola James, how was your session?” Brittany asked. I place my hands on her thighs slowly moving them back towards her ass, surprised at how firm her bubble butt group sex is, she begins to slowly start moving up and down my cock, I know I won’t last long as I’ve never been inside such a tight pussy Ever so surprised by being caught in the act, both men turned abruptly to see who had caught them. Plenty to begin our little experiment. “Tell you what, come over first thing in the morning and we’ll do a little experiment.” Ryan said. Henry's prick started cumming. Did Nicole speak to them? From the start. Antoine, however, couldn't help but gawk at them. They looked painful. Cathy and I Blowjobs got dressed and I ended up with the tube top this time. I stared into her eyes for a moment and nodded my head. “Holy Fuck! pressing your tongue into my mouth, my hand makes its way back down your thigh towards your knee, and goes back up on the outside of your dress this time, running up over your thigh up your waist, and up between your breasts, again touching uncovered skin. The door opened, and I grinned at the sight of Fahima. “Relax.” I said and tickled her in the ribs. “Come on Nick.” she said, coaxing him. “I was a squire for a knight called Sir Egan, but they killed him and took me. My name is Flynn.” We all decided would take it to the next level and go up to our room and smoke a J. We made a few drinks and sit down at the table and joked and laughed a little bit when he pulled out a little cocane and some free base rock. She finished buttoning her blouse and continued, “Every Halloween I start out leaving the Dixie Truck Stop as if I had just gotten off work. That’s why I wore it.”