Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Those who have never travelled, are an underprivileged bunch. They will never know the thrill of new things, and discovery, and the wonders of the world.
I know it’s a bit of a bold statement, but that is truly how I feel about it. I have done it whenever time and money have permitted it, and even sometimes when they haven’t. Being young and a student also makes things easier. I live in Toronto, but our university has always offered exchange programs with European and south-American schools, which I have found are the easiest way of travel, in that they are very cheap and you really get to be immersed in the foreign culture.
Last year, in fact I had a three month stay in Paris. It was one of the most amazing times of my life. I’m a history major, and there are not too many places in the world with more history than Paris. And so I was very excited when I found out that had been able to secure my place in the exchange program. It was to go from April until June, and we’d be studying at one of the numerous Paris universities. Now, I don’t speak much French, nothing more than what we’d done in school, but the prospect of being thrown into a new environment without anything really to hang on to, was a tantalizing one, and so I counted the days until our departure.
The European lifestyle is so utterly different from our North American way of living that I was so surprised (mostly pleasantly) by what I was seeing. The people dressed differently, they walked differently, they thought differently. Everything looked so much more old and had so much more history. After all this is a city which still has some old building left from the days of the Romans.
However, being a 20 year old one of the things that really caught my eyes, were the women. They were so different from what I was used to. The best way I can put it, is that they are so much more feminine than north American women. And that is not just because of the way they dressed, which is far more chic and attractive, but also in the demeanor, and the way they walk and carry themselves. They are in general much more petite, they are much more graceful. Contrary to popular belief, they are NOT hairy (I think that’s only in germany), they take care of themselves, and they look good and comfortable wearing what they do. They don’t look they are dressing to be seen, or to show off; it all seems more natural. And they are much more friendly.
I remember it was my first day of classes, and I was walking around aimlessly with a map in my hand of the campus trying to find out where I had to go. I was utterly lost in fact. And as I stood there, one eye on the map, another eye on the buildings and trying to keep track of the lovely young ladies that were walking in all directions, I heard a voice “Tu as besoin d’aide?” I turned around and saw that one of the girls who had just walked by had stopped and was talking to me. She was beautiful. She light brown hair, and green-blue eyes. She was tall and thin, and with a lovely behind, which was well-displayed in the tight jeans she was wearing, and she had on boots (women wear boots much more often in France that in north America, which is a great thing). On top of she was wearing a form-fitting V-neck sweater and she had a black scarf around her neck.
I muttered something incoherent in my broken French. She turned back and came over. “tu ne parle pas francais?” I shook my head. “Maybe, English is easier then” she said in a lovely and relatively strong French accent. “Yes, yes” I said and nodded vigorously. I quickly explained I was an exchange student from Canada and that I barely spoke any French, and I had to get to this building. She looked at my piece of paper and laughed. “Good, it is same place I am going to. Come, walk with me”. I quickly slung my bag over my shoulder and obediently followed her.
“What is your name, I am Sophie” she asked as we walked to class. I shook her hand, and savoured its softness. “Michael”. “enchante mee-ka-ehl”. I savoured the lovely manner she pronounced my name. Then she started to march and I started to tag along. I glanced over at her, drinking in her lovely form while she finished talking on her cell phone. I think that the woolly sweater v-neck was all she had on, because her nipples were pressing defiantly against the fabric of the sweater, and she had a small pendant around her neck which fit snugly in her lovely cleavage which was visible. Her hair had been done up, in a messy little bun on the back of he head. She finally finished her call and turned to me.
“I know that it is very hard to find your way around here if it is your first time. Let me see your sheet again”. She took it from and then gave a light laugh. “In fact, you are in same class as me. Great!” By this time we’d reached the building and obviously she knew most of the people we passed, because she was saying “bonjour” and “salut” left and right. Finally we reached the room, and went in. It was a big class, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t quite intimidated by the fact that the whole canlı bahis thing would be in French. “Here, we can sit here”. She led us up the stairs until we were half-way up the auditorium and then she went and sat on the seat near the isle, and motioned for me to take the seat behind her because most other seats were full.
“salut Sophie!” “hey, sebastien, salut”
She said this to the guy sitting next to her, and then leaned over and they kissed each other on the cheek two times. “Great” I thought, I guess that’s her boyfriend. Then another guy who was sitting in the row in front of her turned around and they greeted each other and then she leaned forward and they kissed on the cheek as well. This afforded me a great view of her lovely behind once more and leaning forward the low-cut jeans revealed the pink thong she was wearing underneath. The little triangle of fabric as it ran between her cheeks and the two straps which went around her hips and waist.
I soon learned that kissing on the cheek was a very normal way of greeting each other in Europe and had nothing to do with being in a relationship. Despite knowing deep inside that I really didn’t have a chance with this lovely angel, I still felt happy that the guy next to her wasn’t her boyfriend.
Then she turned around to me — affording me a lovely view of her chest — and said while rolling her eyes that the professor was usually quite boring and uninteresting and that I was better off not understanding most of what she would be saying. Then a smile and a wink and she turned back towards the front as the professor began to say whatever it was she was saying.
In fact, even though I couldn’t really speak much French, I could understand a fair bit, so I was able to get the gist of what the professor was saying. Also, I realized at one point that Sebastien, the guy sitting next to Sophie in front of me, asked about who I was, and she said that I’m an exchange student who was lost and that I have the same classes as them. He was quiet for a moment and then said something that I didn’t understand, but her response was that it wouldn’t be very nice if she didn’t help me out for a while.
Anyways, the class ended after a couple of hours of the prof’s ramblings, and then I got up to go. I waited for a while to say something to Sophie, but she was engaged in an animated discussion with Sebastien and another girl, so I decided to just go.
I headed out and having not much else to do in the day, I decided it would be as good a time as to finish off some of the administrative business I had to get done. And so the rest of the day was spent at that.
The next couple of days, I came to class and didn’t see Sophie. Just Sebastien, and we just nodded a hello each time and nothing more. I was a little crestfallen after becoming very excited at having her in my classes for the next few months, but I realized now, that I had hope for too much perhaps, and even if she was there, she probably wasn’t really going to say much more than a hello and a goodbye.
The class ended uneventfully as usual, and we all got up to pack. As I was heading out the door, a few steps down, and suddenly felt someone grabbing my shoulder, and stopped. I turned around and saw Sophie. She was dressed in tight black pants, and a tight black top and flashing a big smile. Her ensemble was quite something, in that it looked skintight and outlined every single curve on her lovely body — and let me tell you, there are a lot of curves on her body.
“Hello Mee-ka-ehl.” “Hey Sophie.” “Sorry I didn’t say goodbye the other day, I didn’t notice you leaving. And then I was a bit sick since then, so I didn’t come in. How has it been the last two days? “Not so bad. Thanks to you know I know where to find my classes, so that’s good.” “Good. Anything else? Made any friends, seen any places?” I shook my head pathetically. “It’s ok. A few friends and I are going out in a while, do you want to come?” I was surprised. I wanted to say yes, but I was very scared and felt completely out of place. Luckily she didn’t wait for me to answer. “Good. All we have to do is drop by my flat so I can change and then we’re on our way”. I nodded automatically, and managed to squeeze out a “great”.
She quickly grabbed my arm and dragged me along. We walked on, arm-in-arm (believe it or not) towards the metro station. “I live a bit far from here, but it’s only 15 minutes by metro. We just need to take Line 5 to Jaures station”. I said ok, and followed her. If there is one thing that you learn when you are in Paris, it’s that you let a Parisian decided while subway lines to take, because considering the 17 subway lines that traverse Paris, you’re more likely to get lost than anything else.
The other thing you learn about the Paris subway is that it gets PACKED during rush hour, and you simple have to push your way in otherwise you’re not going to get on. Most people know this and they don’t mind. Telling me this as the train approached, Sophie grabbed my handed and waited for the train to bahis siteleri stop. Letting the throng of people exit the train before all rushing in, we got in. Now, whether it was chance or whatever, she was in front of me with her back towards me, and I was pressed hard against her. Fortunately, and unfortunately, my crotch was pressed against her ass. The fabric of the tight black pants could not have been too thick because the only sensation I was feeling at that time was that lovely round ass pressed against my crotch. And with every shake of the train around the bend, it rubbed against me.
Just to make matters worse, all this clearly had aroused the interest of my cock; because slowly it started to get hard against Sophie’s ass. I was feeling so bad that I just wished I would melt at that moment. So for about ten-fifteen minutes we road in the subway with my erection pressed hard against Sophie’s firm yet fleshy ass. I am almost sure that there was no way that she didn’t feel my erection as it pressed between her ass cheeks, but either she was used to stuff like that in the subway, or that she realized it wasn’t really my fault she didn’t say anything; except a weird little smile on her face as we finally got off at Jaures station.
We walked to her building and finally went up to the 3rd floor where her flat was. Renting in Paris is EXPENSIVE, and most students can only afford what are called ‘studios’. Basically a cube. Her studio was a room, with a surface area of around 18 square metres which would be around 150 square feet, which served as, living room, kitchen, workroom and bedroom, and a tiny little bathroom/shower attached to it. We came in and she put her bag down. On one side was her laundry line, and she obviously recently washed her underclothes, because a whole bunch of panties and thongs and bras were on the line. From what I saw, she had exquisite taste in underclothing. She quickly blushed, seeing the situation and grabbed most of them and threw them on the queen size bed in other side of the room. Then realizing that changing would be a bit difficult with me present there, she asked if I could just stand outside for a second. I obliged.
I stood there waiting. She hadn’t closed the door completely, and inadvertently I looked inside. She was in the process of pulling the pants off. I couldn’t help but stare. She had a tiny black thong underneath, lacy around the edges. And then she took her top off along with the bra. Her back to me, and all I could see was the outline of the outside of her left breast from the side. My hard-on was raging in my pants again. I adjusted myself while watching her slip her tight jeans back on. And then to my surprise as her top, she just put on a leather jacket. She called me back in.
I stumbled back into the room and pretended like I was looking at the pictures on the wall. “So how do I look” she asked, while facing me. I took her sight in. She had on those tight fitting, low cut jeans. The two straps of her thong were visible on the side of her waistline. And the leather jacked was buttoned in the front. A strip of her smooth belly was visible, and the curves of her breast were clearly visible in the V of the leather jacket; somehow the knowledge that the leather was the only thing she was wearing made them all the more sexy and enticing. Unable to speak, I nodded vigorously. “you look … great!!”.
“Thanks, ok let’s go.” She came over grabbed my arms again and dragged me after her out of the apartment and we headed for the subway again. It wasn’t as bad as rush hour, but I still had the fortune of being pressed against Sophie, and this time it was her chest that was pressed against mine, and our faces were inches apart. I’m sure that her bust was about a C cup. Not as much as a D, and definitely more ample than a B cup; and she smelled so good. After a couple of subway changes we reached our destination, St. Michel square, where we rendez-vous’ed with a few other of Sophie’s friends. Then we headed out to the Latin Quarter and found ourselves a nice café and sat down and drank some drinks and talked.
Well, they did most of the talking at first, and I just listened trying to understand what was going on. But as it warmed up, I started to understand more and even throw a word in every once in a while. Sophie helped a lot, translating something every once in a while, and trying to get me involved. And once everyone found out that I was an Anglophone and from Canada, I became the centre of discussion. They found the different lifestyle there amusing, and they just couldn’t get enough of my stories of how cold it could get and what the wind-chill was and how much snow we would have at times. At one point Sophie even made the joke, saying how surprised she was that Canada’s population wasn’t higher considering how cold the temperature gets. Naturally, being an idiot it took me a while to catch on and by then I was the one who was being joked about.
Few hours later, after having some drinks and talking and joking about everything there was, everyone bahis şirketleri slowly made their way out, and finally so did Sophie. Naturally I offered to walk her home. She resisted at first. So we caught the metro and headed over to her flat. We got there and got to the door. She paused for a second and then said “so why don’t you come in for a second?” Even though I’d been thinking about when she would say this, I couldn’t make up my mind. Half of me wanted to stay, thinking of the possibilities, thinking of the three simple pieces of clothing which were all that needed to be removed for her to be completely nude; and the other half of me just wanted to run from there. I looked at my watch.
“No I really should be going, or I’d miss the train. It’s pretty late.”
She looked at me for a second and then,
“Yea, you’re right. It was fun tonight though, n’est-ce pas? And your French is getting much better.” Then she gave me two kisses on the cheek and said goodnight.
I had a hard time getting any sleep that night, and when I did go to sleep, it was all dreams of Sophie, nude or in the process of stripping and coming towards me, and undressing me, and I’d wake up before anything sexual would happen. It was a frustrating night. However, after that she and I became rather good friends, she had made it her personal mission to be my guide to Paris, so she would take me on the weekends to the various sights to see, the Eiffel tower, the Louvre, Chateau de Versaille, and other stuff like that. We’d go for walks along the Seine or she’d invite me whenever she was going out with her friends, whom I got to know rather well also.
Not that I was feeling any less attracted to her. If nothing else, the more I got to know her and the more I got to see her, the more I was attracted to her. She had a knack for dressing in the most perfectly provocative way without any effort. Whether it was the various tight fitting clothing she wore, or the fact that she always showed a bit more skin than was usual; more often than not she didn’t wear a bra, and she had a large collection of very sexy panties and thongs, which were always a bit visible in the most sexy way.
Some weeks later, she and her friends were going for a concert in a little concert hall just outside of the city, near Sebastian’s house in fact. So we all met up there and headed out for the concert. It was great, and it ran late; late enough in fact that when we left, it was long past the last train for Paris had left. However, one of the benefits of living in the suburbs of Paris was that for the same price, one could always find much larger housing, and Sebastian’s place was in fact quite large compared to Sophie’s. He in fact had a living and a separate bedroom, and thus he offered us to stay there for the night.
So we headed over and had a few more drinks, until Sebastian declared that he really would not be able to stay up any longer, and gave us sheets and pillows for sleep. In the living room there was one pull out couch. It was big enough for two people, although not by much. However, it was a bit of a dilemma for me, I wanted nothing more than to be able sleep with Sophie, but I was imagining how imprudent it would be to make her do that, and so on and so forth. So when I started to make my bed on the ground, she gave me a puzzled look.
“What are you doing?” “Well … making my bed” “There? There is the couch” “I figured you’d take the couch and I’d take the ground.” “Oh please Mee-ka-ehl, don’t joke with me. We can both fit on the couch, unless you’re meaning that I’m too big?” “NO NO NO, NOT AT ALL …!” I said in an alarmed way. “Ok then there you go, which side do you want?”
Having settled that, I had to face the next dilemma. “So, I have to tell you Mee-ka-ehl, that I usually sleep nude!”. I placed the pillow on my crotch to hide my growing erection. In fact it turned out that most French tend to sleep in the nude. “But obviously in the current situation, I can’t do that. So I will ask you to give me your tshirt.” She added with a smile. “Sure thing.” I quickly took my top off and gave her the t-shirt. She eyed me for a second, looking at my topless torso, and then turned around, so that her back was to me. Then she took off her top and undid her bra (it was one of the few times she was wearing one) and then slide my shirt on. Naturally, my shirt having never been on a woman before, was having a hard time containing Sophie’s breasts, which were stretched against fabric quite revealingly. But it was long enough that it went halfway down her thighs. So she undid her jeans and slide them off too, and she sat on the edge of the bed, with the long tshirt covering the top of her smooth creamy thighs.
For me the odd thing was how comfortable she felt being nearly naked with a stranger (granted I wasn’t a perfect stranger, but still). Then she got up and picked up her top and bent over and picked up her jeans. That little manoeuvre made it clear that she wasn’t wearing a thong this time either, but rather a tiny set up pink panties, which covered half of her ass cheeks. Then she went over to the light switch and turned it off and came back to the bed. I quickly took my pants off and slid under the sheets in my boxer-briefs.
Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32