Vintage Keliana (with story)

[smc]

the story, continued ?

I feel as if Teodora has snapped me out of some kind of trance when I realize that she is back at the table and speaking to me. ?My friend Marlene agrees,? she says, ?and will be here in a short while to drive us to Munich.? But I?m fixated on Keliana.

?What is it?? Teodora asks. ?Are you not pleased?? I guess I?m being non-responsive, so Teodora hits me gently on the shoulder.

?What?? I say, in a voice not very friendly.

?Are you there?? she says, laughing.

I apologize and excuse myself, saying I need to get a bit of fresh air and that I?ll be right back. Teodora nods, and I walk outside.

The street is full of people, but I am lost in my thoughts and barely notice. I keep thinking about Keliana. Damn, she doesn?t even know me, I think, and yet I?m worrying about whether I have betrayed her with Grete and Teodora. How will I ever convince her that we are meant for each other? How will I even find her?

I walk back inside the caf? and sit down at the table with Teodora. She asks me why I?m brooding. ?Did you not have fun at the sex shop, darling??

I say yes, apologize, and tell her that I?m preoccupied. Teodora smiles.

* * *

We wait for about 45 minutes before Marlene shows up. She makes quite an entrance. She is shorter than me, very curvy and feminine looking, with red hair. I had assumed she would be like Teodora, but now I begin to doubt that assumption. She marches right up to the table and kisses me on both cheeks and begins to chatter away in German. I don?t have a clue what she is saying.

?Marlene speaks no English,? Teodora says. ?She is welcoming you to Cologne, thanking you for the chance to drive you to Munich, and telling you where her car is parked.?

?Thanking me?? I say. ?Why would she thank me? I should be thanking her.?

?Marlene,? says Teodora, ?is a ? how do you say it in English ? is a very giving person.?

With that, Teodora stands up, links arms with Teodora, and gestures to me to grab my bags. The two of them lead the way out of the caf?, down the street, and to a small BMW that looks as if it can barely fit two people, let alone three. Marlene opens the trunk and I put my bags in, and then Teodora announces that I should sit in the back.

I climb into the back of the car. Teodora, who is quite tall, works her way into the front passenger seat. Marlene hops in the driver side, starts up the car, rolls down the window, shouts something in German seemingly to no one, and pulls out of the parking space with a screech. Within a few minutes, we are on the autobahn and going about 200 kilometers per hour.

For the first hour or so on the highway, Marlene turns around every couple of minutes -- taking her eyes off the road -- and asks me a question in German. I can tell it?s a question because of the tone. Teodora translates. She asks me how old I am, what my home town is like, how I like Germany, whether I like Hamburg better than Cologne, why I am going to Munich, why I am not going to Berlin, where else I am going in Europe, whether I have a girlfriend, what school is like in America, why I haven?t learned to speak German ? I?m pretty sure I am leaving out some of her questions. I answer each one, Teodora translates, and Marlene giggles and shakes her head, no matter what I say. After a while, though, this becomes rather exhausting. It?s been a long day. I tell Teodora that I?m going to try to sleep a bit.

After another hour or so, during which I?ve been drifting in and out of sleep, I feel the car slowing down. We are pulling into a rest area. I wake up, perhaps halfway, and see Teodora and Marlene both get out of the car. Teodora goes around to the driver?s side and gets behind the wheel. Marlene pushes the front passenger seat forward and climbs in the back with me.

?Should I get in the front?? I ask Teodora.

?Oh, no,? she answers. ?Marlene wants to suck your cock.?

?Huh?!?

?It?s okay, yes?? Teodora says, half questioning and half telling me what the answer will be.

Before I can say another word, Marlene has yanked off her blouse, revealing two succulent tits, silky smooth with big nipples and big aureolas. She takes one of my hands and puts it on one of her tits. Then she unzips my pants and reaches in, quickly pulling out my cock. It?s soft. She giggles and kisses it. Then she takes it in her mouth, and I am hard in a few seconds.

While Marlene sucks my cock, Teodora keeps looking back and saying things to Marlene in German. One thing she says again and again is ?Gut gemacht!? I recognize that phrase: ?Good job!?

Marlene is an amazing cocksucker, maybe even better than Grete or Teodora. I announce that I?m about to cum, and Marlene suddenly sits straight up in the back seat and begins to speak to Teodora in German. She seems to be very worried about something. She also grabs my cock and squeezes it really hard. It feels like she?s trying to keep the cum from spewing out.

?What?s going on?? I ask Teodora.

?Don?t cum. She wants you to fuck her.?

Teodora says something to Marlene, who then -- with the skill of a contortionist in the tiny back seat of the BMW -- manages to strip herself completely naked and plant herself on my cock, which is dripping with precum and standing straight up. It is only as she does this that I realize I am in her ass, and that she has a cock as big as Teodora?s poking me in the stomach.

There we are, in the back of a BMW on the autobahn between Cologne and Munich. I am riding in the car, and Marlene is riding me. She rides me like a cowboy on a steer at the rodeo, whooping and hollering and pounding herself so far down on my cock that I feel like my balls are going to go right up her ass. But somehow, she keeps me from cumming.

As Marlene continues to ride me, we pass a couple of trucks. The drivers can see what?s going on in our car, and they pull their air horns and shout things out their windows in German. This only makes Marlene fuck me harder. I wonder if they can see her huge cock.

All of a sudden, Marlene kisses me, and then moves her mouth to my left ear, sticks her tongue in my ear, and says the first English word I?ve heard from her: ?Cum!? With that, I begin to spasm, and my cock shoots several streams of cum straight up into her with such ferocity that it feels as if she is being lifted off of me the way she might if she were riding a geyser at Yellowstone Park. She screams as I fill her with my hot jizz, and her cock sprays all over me. I continue to cum in her, more cum than I think I?ve ever had, more than the day I shot my cum all over the living room at home with the Keliana magazines all laid out. And Marlene scoops up her own cum off of me, puts it in her mouth, and kisses me again.

* * *

I don?t remember getting to Munich. All I know is that I was sucked and that I fucked this amazingly hot girl, who is now driving more slowly, with Teodora in the passenger seat. I am fully awake now, and it is dawn.

?Where in Munich shall we drop you?? Teodora asks, turning around from the front seat.

I give her the address, and she says something to Marlene, who pulls up to a gentleman sitting at a bus stop. She speaks to him, and he points. He?s clearly giving directions. We drive for another few minutes, and soon we are in front of the hostel.

Marlene and Teodora get out of the car, and I climb out behind them. Marlene opens the trunk and pulls out my bags. Suddenly Marlene speaks, anxiously, to Teodora, who translates. ?Wait,? she says, ?there is something Marlene wishes to give you.?

After rummaging around in her car, Marlene emerges and produces what Teodora tells me is a gift. Marlene hands me a rather worn copy of ?Cream,? with my beloved Keliana on the cover. How did she know? Again, I have nearly forgotten Keliana, but seeing her sitting there, legs spread and the bulge of her girl cock visible, makes me remember what this trip is all about. Sure, fucking with Grete, Teodora, and Marlene has been great, but in my heart it is all prelude to Keliana.

After hugs all around, Teodora and Marlene hop in the BMW and speed away. I climb the stairs to the hostel and go to the front desk. As I am walking across the lobby, clutching my new magazine, a small piece of paper falls out onto the floor. There is a note in German, and it is signed ?Marlene.? I ask the clerk to translate for me.

?See me any time you are in Cologne,? he reads. ?Your cock filled me so good.?

I am beet red as he checks me in for my brief stay in Munich.

to be continued ...

[smc]

the story, continued ?

With my copy of ?Cream? in hand, and the embarrassing note from Marlene, I head up to my room at the hostel. It seems I?m always arriving in the morning when everyone else has left for the day, and it?s a good thing because I have only two things on my mind: sleep, preceded by a quick perusal of the Keliana spread in the magazine Marlene gave me.

I put my things away and settle down on the bed in the large room where, later, there will be many other guys sleeping. Right now, there is no one else around, so I shut the door, take out ?Cream,? and find the article featuring Keliana. The magazine is torn and tattered. The pages in the middle are loose, and the staples barely hold them in place. I wonder whether Marlene is as big an admirer of Keliana as am I. After all, she seems to have given this magazine quite a workout.

Finding several pages of Keliana pictures, I quickly decide to give myself a workout. To be precise, to give my cock a workout. It is already hard in anticipation, and the site of Keliana revealing her beautiful girl cock beneath the panties on the cover makes me begin to leak. ?Already?? I think to myself. This is going to be quick.

I decide to get on my knees on the bed and put the best 2-page spread of Keliana down in front of me so I can engage in some serious stroking. Using the precum that has now coated my cock, I jerk myself, making sure to squeeze tight as my hand passes over the ridge of my circumcised cock. In no time, the tingle grows to spasm, and the spasm becomes a cumshot. Just as the splooge is about to erupt from me, the door to the room opens, and a guy about my age steps in. The surprise causes me to shoot my hot jizz all over Keliana ? actually, her pictures.

I should be hiding, but I find I don?t care. The guy watches the last of my cum dribble out of the tip of my cock and fall on the magazine. He seems fixated on the magazine, and I wonder whether he can see Keliana from where he is, and at his angle. Soon, I get an answer. He walks over to the bed, where I am still on my knees with my softening cock in my cum-covered hand, looks right down at the magazine, and -- seeing beautiful Keliana, also with her cock in her hand -- begins to shake his head.

He speaks to me in halting English. ?She is what?? he asks.

?Her name is Keliana,? I reply, completely unfazed by the scene. ?She is a very special girl.?

?You are a schwanzlutscher?? he asks. I remember the word from the Frankfurt airport. A cocksucker.

?Yes, I am,? I say proudly.

He shakes his head and leaves.

My magazine is soaked with cum. I try licking it off the pages, which doesn?t work very well, so I decide to stick it under the bed, open, while I try to sleep.

* *

The nap lasts a few hours. When I awake, I check the magazine under the bed, which now has dried cum all over Keliana?s pictures. I think about whether the day might come when my cum will be on the real Keliana, and I grow a bit morose. After showering and changing clothes, I decide that I need some fresh air. The streets of Munich seem very inviting.

* * *

I love Munich, more so than Hamburg or Cologne. I wonder, as I walk through the Schwabing neighborhood, whether this is because I was so preoccupied with sex in those other cities that I failed to see them as tourist destinations. I decide that Munich will get my full attention as a beautiful German city.

Schwabing has caf?s and the original cabarets, and I am having a wonderful time. I stay out very late, enjoy a superb meal, and drink a lot of beer. I find young people who speak English everywhere, and talk about music and politics and all sorts of things ? but no mention of Keliana.

At the end of the evening, I resist the temptation to find a sex shop that might have something I can add to my growing collection of Keliana magazines. I head back to the hostel, determined to get a full night?s sleep. The guy who surprised me earlier is sitting in the lobby, and he simply waves as I walk in.

In my bed, I fall asleep quickly, and I am quickly dreaming. In my dream, I see Grete, Teodora, and Marlene, my three special German girls who have had their way with me. I relive all the sucking and fucking I have experienced. At the end of the dream, Teodora and Marlene drop me off at the hostel but come upstairs to my room. Teodora orders me to strip and get on the bed. Marlene is giving her what sound like orders, in German. Teodora?s cock is huge and hard as steel. She gets on the bed behind me and rubs it up and down in the crack of my ass, and as she does so it leaks precum. She takes her finger, lubes it with some of her precum, and begins to rub it around my hole. Then she positions her massive, pulsating cock right at the opening, and begins to push in.

Suddenly, Keliana is in the room. She moves quickly but silently to the side of the bed and puts her hand on Teodora?s shoulder, who looks up at her. Keliana shakes her head ?no? -- a clear signal to Teodora to stop.

I wake up at that point, wondering what it all means?

* * *

My next day in Munich involves more sightseeing, more drinking beer, and more fun meeting English-speaking Germans. After an early dinner, I go back to the hostel to gather my things before heading to the train station. I have a ticket for the overnight train to Paris, a trip of about 11 hours, and even a private sleeping berth. I decide that since I?m leaving Munich I can treat myself to a new magazine, having given the city my full attention.

I remember seeing a sex shop during my travels around the city, and it?s not far from the train station. I decide to go in before the train leaves, and I head right to the section with special girls. There is a new magazine on the rack, prominently displayed. I pick up what is the premier issue of ?Lady With a Dick,? which is wrapped in cellophane. It features my darling Keliana, looking so very desirable in high heels, with her legs spread, an orange top on through which I can see one nipple poking out (oh, how I long to have her nipples in my mouth!) Her delicious girl cock, the bulge visible, is hidden behind a pair of dainty panties visible beneath hiked-up jean skirt.

The train leaves soon. I hurry to the front counter to pay. The clerk speaks English. ?This is brand new,? he says, pointing to a small sticker that reads Bonus drinnen placed on the cellophane. ?There is a bonus inside.?

I pay and rush to the station just in time to get on the train. Settling into my sleeping birth, I tear open the cellophane. As I open the magazine, there is a second, nearly identical cover beneath the outer cover. On this one, the panties are gone, and Keliana?s beautiful girl is exposed and fully erect. My mouth waters. My ass tingles.

I can?t wait for the other passengers to fall asleep so I can have my way with my beloved Keliana.

to be continued ...

[robi1k]

Keliana is the reason while i joined this amazing site.
Can't get enough of her.

[bigjoe]

wow the photo of keliana kissing is one of the most erotic things ive ever seen!! those legs and spiked heels wow!!!

[smc]

Sometimes I wonder how many of our members only look at pictures and never read.

More story to come soon, and thanks to all those who've told me they like it.

[smc]

the story, continued …

The overnight train trip to Paris is largely a blur. I remember jerking off for several hours to Keliana's photo spread in "Lady With a Dick," and I think one of the conductors gave me a brief lesson in German and French when he knocked on the door to my sleeping berth, opened the door, put his finger to his mouth, and first said "Sei bitte still" and then "Taisez-vous, s'il vous plait." Apparently, I shouted "Keliana" rather loudly as stream after stream of hot cum erupted from my cock.

The weather in Paris is beautiful as I step out of the Gare du Nord, the train station conveniently located near the hostel at which I'll be staying. I have a small map that I use to find my way, and the 15-minute walk is wonderful. Paris looks exactly as I imagined it would. I check into the hostel and head out to explore the city.

In one afternoon, I manage to visit the Eiffel Tower and the Champs-?lys?es, and also enjoy an espresso at an outdoor caf?. The young waiter at the caf? speaks English and, since business is rather slow, strikes up a conversation with me. He asks me about my trip, about Germany, about America, about the college I'll be attending in the fall, about what I like so far about Paris … in fact, he seems to ask me about everything conceivable. When it comes time to pay, he tells me the espresso is his gift to me.

"Thanks," I say. "That’s very nice, and not at all necessary."

"Perhaps you could repay me," he says. "Let me show you Paris at night."

That sounds great to me: on my first night here, a tour of the city by a real Parisian. I quickly agree and tell him that I want to go back to my hostel and then meet him after his work shift ends.

“Where should we meet?” I ask.

“You should come to my apartment,” he says. And then, he leans over and whispers in my ear. “Perhaps you can repay me. Je veux te baiser.”

I have no idea what he is saying, but I recognize the tone and what the hot breath in my ear means. “What?!”

“Do not act so surprised that I wish to have sex with you,” he says, rather more loudly than seems appropriate. “We have been discussing for some time now, and I have figured out what you like. I know your type.”

“I don’t think you know anything about me,” I reply, becoming angry, “and keep your voice down.”

The waiter stands there silently, staring at me. He seems to be sizing me up. His look is quizzical, as if he cannot believe that he miscalculated me. After what seems like a very long time, he asks, rather sheepishly, “You do not want to suck my cock?”

“No, I don’t,” I say, becoming rather embarrassed.

““You are not homo?” he asks, still not convinced.

“No, I am not!” I say this with emphasis.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

I begin to blurt out an answer, but stop myself. I don’t quite know what to say. How do you explain to a stranger your complete obsession with the most beautiful, sexiest girl in the world, when she doesn’t know you at all? How do you explain that everything you are doing on your trip is part of a quest to find the most desirable girl you have ever seen, who makes you feel things you never thought possible.

“So?” he asks. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

I am quiet for a moment, but then I decide that I want to tell him. In fact, I want to shout it from the top of the Eiffel Tower. My heart, my cock, my ass -- they are all for Keliana. I reach into my bag and pull out “Baby Dolls,” the magazine Grete gave me in Munich. I am carrying it with me because I love to look at the picture of Keliana from time to time, and compare her beauty with the beauty of what I am seeing in Paris. By the way, the city always comes in second.

I pull out “Baby Dolls” just enough for the waiter to see Keliana’s face on the cover. “It is my intention,” I say, as if making an announcement to the world, “to make her my girlfriend.”

The waiter’s jaw drops. “Keliana?!” He begins to chuckle. “I knew it. I knew you liked cock.”

* * *

That night, my new friend, the young waiter, takes me to Pigalle Place, the red-light district of Paris. He no longer hits on me; instead, he is taking me to a special shop devoted to special girls. “I don’t like girls,” he says, “But I have heard about this shop, and I think you will like it. They have the new kind of magazines.”

And, wow, he is correct. There are many of the older magazines I have seen at the bookstore back home, as well as in Hamburg, Cologne, and Munich, but there is one rack of magazines that are very different. They look so new, so fresh, so crisp. The colors jump off the covers. They are slightly larger.

The waiter explains to me that everything is better in France. My uncle told me that I would meet French people who would say such things.

My eyes soon fixate on a copy of a magazine I have never seen any other issues of, in any other store. “Chic” features a beautiful woman, face down on white sheets, with sheer panties on and the crack of her exquisite behind visible. I know immediately that it is Keliana; my instant erection works like a divining rod. The other words on the cover confirm what my cock has already told me: "See Keliana on her lazy Sunday morning."

I purchase the magazine, which is wrapped in cellophane, and am anxious to return to the hostel and be with Keliana, give her my cum. The waiter has other ideas, and I feel as if I owe him some of my time for bringing me to this special shop. So, he shows me some of the city, and then accompanies me back to the hostel. As we part, he asks me to stop by the caf? again tomorrow. I promise I will.

As he shakes my hand to leave, he leans in and whispers to me. "Are you sure you do not want to suck my cock?” he asks. "I am very, very large."

“But,” I say, “You are not Keliana.”

We part and I head to my bed with my new magazine. Yes, neither Grete, Teodora, or Marlene are Keliana, but I feel as if my experiences with those three special girls is part of my quest for Keliana, part of what I need to experience if I am to have any chance with Keliana.

* * *

The hostel is quite crowded. I must wait for everyone to fall asleep, at which time I go to the men's lavatory with my magazine, enter one of the stalls, and rip open the cellophane wrapper. The Keliana spread is one of the sexiest things I have ever seen. She looks absolutely beautiful. Her skin is so smooth. The slight curve at her waste makes me want to run my tongue over every inch of her, gently. The two other pictures in the sheer panties are almost more than I can take. I rub my cock furiously at the sight of her beautiful behind and, even more so, at the sight of her cock, just visible through the lingerie. I scream her name again as I cum, shooting my jizz all over the walls of the stall.

Lights come on in the outer hallway, and I hear footsteps. Clearly, I have awakened some of the other travelers.

to be continued ...

[Fantasex 76]

I used to subscribe to Chic a Larry Flynt Publication back in the 80's the US version of course not the French version.