What is it about Europeans that makes them
seem sexier? Or at least, sexier than us? I don't know... it couldn't simply be
the exotic accent, could it?
You know, I'm sure that's important. As
soon as they open their mouths, they sound interesting, different, exciting. If
some-one mentions 'fiscal deficit' to me in the pub, I turn away, look for
help, anything to avoid being pinned to my stool and bored to death. Now if he
had said the same thing in a sexy Italian accent, that's different. Deficits
and authentic pasta I might be able to handle.
It's all about the differences, isn't it?
No matter how proud I am of North Queensland, and how much I love the people
who live here, a breath of fresh air from a European capital is going to grab
my attention. It's nice to see women who dress as if they mean it. We tend to
slop around in tee-shirt and loose shorts. We do put on some footwear when we
go to town, but we will probably wear thongs (that's what we call the
flip-flops that fit between your toes). I even have better quality thongs for
going out to the pub or for a meal in our one Italian restaurant.
Europeans don't do that. If they wear tee
shirt and shorts, you can be sure they will fit properly and look new. They
have no time for old and comfortable. Everyone has a bikini or something to
swim in, right? Not us; we live on the shores of the Coral Sea and I bet not
one person in ten has a bikini in her drawer, and even she won’t use it. We go
swimming in - you've guessed it - tee-shirt and shorts. Probably the same ones
we used to drive to the beach (and we won't be driving home until they've dried
out). That's not bad, but why do we complain when our men drool over European
girls who wander around like super-models in make-up and tiny bikinis?
I've got a soft spot for men with some
education and experience. I like to hear about the history and politics back
home, even if I don't remember it for long. I like to have good wine chosen for
me, or new food I've never tried before. No Australian has ever kissed my hand
and I'm not holding my breath. Now a man who is confident enough to do that,
well, you have to take an interest, don't you? It's is a promise of good things
waiting...
Noëlle’s new lover surprises her with a
special present...
One morning, Stephen called me at work, and
he called from my apartment. “I have a surprise for you,” he announced. “When
will you be home?”
“Um - I suppose I could develop a head
ache.”
“Oh, no. That’s too early. I need a little
more time - could you make it three o’clock? Or even four?” I could hear noises
in the background - what was he up to? You can believe that day took a very,
very long time to pass.
I unlocked my door very soon after three
o’clock and fell into Stephen’s arms. He steered me away from the living room
and towards the bedroom. “Get changed, and I’ll show you your present.”
“What sort of changed? Are we going out?”
“Perhaps, later. Right now I want you at
your sexy best, and I don’t expect to work my way through layers of clothing to
reach the tasty bits.” I ran for the shower.
I threw on stockings suspended from a black
lacy basque, one of Stephen’s favourites because it does so little to cover my
breasts. Make-up, rings, a black velvet choker with a diamond star, and I was
ready for anything.
Stephen waited for me on a new sofa. I felt
let down. It was a nice sofa, and goodness knows the old one was past due for
replacement, but it was a sofa. I had been expecting something sexy, or
valuable, and he was presenting me with a sofa.
A very nice sofa, of course, and its blue
grey fabric suited my room. It had a low back and only one arm. “Look here,” he
said, “It’s wide enough to lie down comfortably and - see here - this part is
separate.”
He pulled at the square ottoman that made up one end of the
sofa and it made a comfortable seat by itself. I pulled him to me and gave him
a kiss. “Thank you so much, Stephen. I really needed something like that.” He
was smiling like a naughty boy.
“But wait!” He gestured dramatically.
“There’s more...” He pushed the ottoman back into place and steered me to lie
on my back. He drew my hands up to touch the arm of the sofa and before I
realised what he had done, both wrists were trapped in webbing cuffs. I heard
the Velcro crackle as he tightened them correctly. The cuffs and their straps
must have been hidden between the seat cushion and the sofa’s arm.
He fumbled for a moment on either side of
the ottoman to bring up a strap that he led under my knees. There were two more
cuffs on it. They fitted my legs above the knees. He secured them and, pulling
on the side straps, drew my knees wide apart.
“How do you like your new sofa now,
Noëlle?”
How did I like it? How did I feel about
being spread open and helpless, like a tortoise on its back? I thought it was wonderful, and I liked
it even more as he began to tease and torment me. I had never been offered like
this. Never had control of my own body placed so completely in another’s hands.
I closed my eyes and let Stephen do whatever he wanted.
That was the first session of many on my
special sofa. Sometimes Stephen tied me down like that. Others I might be on my
stomach. Perhaps my favourite position uses just the ottoman. He kneels me over
it with the cuffs around my upper arms and tightens the strap to hold me firmly
in place. Two more cuffs at floor level to hold my knees wide apart and take
all my modesty. All my most secret places lie open for him. He can use his
fingers on me (such delicate, magic fingers!). He can lick me and poke his
tongue into every corner. He has driven me mad with a feather. I am open for
him to use our collection of toys, every sort of vibrator and adventurous
dildo. In the end, when I am completely limp and incoherent, he can kneel
behind me and take his own pleasure. And my shameless body joins in his climax,
without fail.
Find Europe in Love: https://ganxy.com/
Jacqueline lives in Far North Queensland,
on the shore of the Coral Sea. She keeps herself busy with her cats and garden,
and by writing books - some of which are far too naughty for her own good. You
can find out more about Jacqueline and her books at www.jacquelinegeorgewriter.com
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