Vintage Keliana (with story)

[smc]

the story, continued …

As I’m sure you can imagine, a woman screaming on an airplane after seeing a hot girl with a butt plug bending over on the cover of a magazine is neither an everyday occurrence, nor is it something taken lightly by the authorities. Immediately, a flight attendant comes running up the aisle from the galley. I have hidden the magazine, but when she inquires about the screaming, something possesses me to pull the magazine back out. I show it to her and say, “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. This is mine, anyway.”

A combination of shock and awe erupts among the passengers seated in the rows ahead and behind my seat. The flight attendant grabs the “Sex Inspiration No. 11” from my hand, and as I struggle to hold on to it some of the pages rip out. A mother in the seat in front of me yelps as a page flutters on to her lap. It features a picture of a man with a shemale’s cock deep in his ass and another shemale’s cock erupting in hot splooge on his face. Her daughter in the seat next to her, who I estimate to be about 14 years old, laughs somewhat demonically at her mother.

A few pages go flying across the aisle, too, falling into the lap of a man who, upon closer examination, sports a clerical collar. He sits there, mouth agape, with several pages of advertisements in full view, featuring every manner of dildo. There are big black ones, curved ones, ones with soft, hanging balls, and ones with vibrating inserts. Within seconds, his eyes look to the heavens and he seems to be deep into what he thinks may be his last earthly prayer.

The magazine is in shambles. I do not even know where the rest of the pages have gone. All I know is that serious trouble is coming my way, because soon the co-pilot, adorned in his uniform and looking very stern, is looming above me and speaking to me in very halting English. I figure out that it is the opinion of the crew that I have caused enough of a ruckus to warrant an investigation, under German law, of interfering with the safe operation of an airline. I am warned that I will be interrogated by the police upon our arrival in Frankfurt.

I spend the some time in dead silence. The screaming woman who had been sitting next me now sits in a different row, and next to me is a member of the U.S. Marine Corps on his way back to his base in Germany. He seems as stern as the co-pilot, but after a while he smiles at me, and says quietly, “Don’t worry about the German cops. It’s all a formality.”

“It sounds pretty serious to me,” I reply. “Like a felony or something.”

“Yah, but Europe’s different, man.” He laughs a little as he says this. “They’re used to all sorts of things that we never see back home.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“Well … like …” His voice trails off. After a moment, he asks, “What kinda magazine was that, anyway?”

I’m not sure about answering. I think about it, though, and decide that he’s cool. “Special girls,” I say.

“You mean like a fetish mag?” he asks. “Wow, you seem sort of young to know about that kind of shit. Whatcha into?”

I repeat myself. “Special girls.”

“I like feet,” he says, with a wide grin. “I like toes. I like soles. I like lickin’ ‘em, and I like feelin’ ‘em on me. Know what I mean?”

“I like the feet on my special girls, I guess,” I say, somewhat sheepishly. “Especially one girl. But I never thought about feet in particular.”

“Exactly what do you mean by ‘special’?” he asks.

I really don’t know what to say. He presses me for an answer.

“Special in what way?”

I decide to bite the bullet. I look around to see whether anyone is looking, and I begin to whisper. No words come out of my mouth, so I point. I point to my lap.

“Oh, shit, you mean chicks with dicks?!” The Marine says this loud enough for others to hear, and before you know it, I am sitting all by myself in the back of the plane.

* * *

The remainder of the flight is, by the measure of the first part, quite uneventful. When we land in Frankfurt, I am admonished by the flight attendant that I will be met by the German authorities at the end of the gangway, before I get to Passport Control. As I make my way into the terminal, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Son, I think these are yours.” A man from the plane, who must have been sitting near me, hands me two pages from the inside of the magazine that had been torn apart. They feature Keliana in a photospread titled “Car Trouble” -- two pictures with accompanying text. “You should probably stuff them in your carry-on bag.”

The man whispers in my ear. “I took them in the lavatory with me. I sure would like to read the rest of that story!”

I don’t even look at the pages, despite that they feature my darling Keliana.

to be continued …

[smc]

the story, continued …

While Frankfurt is merely a transfer point on my way to Hamburg, I wonder whether it will, indeed, become my final destination in Germany. This thought is consuming me as I approach the man in what appears to be a police uniform who I can see at the end of the gangway.

“You are the young man who caused the problem on the plane?” he asks. It surprises me that he puts it in the form of a question, but I attribute it his facility with English. I nod in the affirmative, and he takes my arm, leading me down a hallway and into a small room, where another policeman sits at a table.

“Sit, please,” the second man says. I comply.

He does the talking. I find his English a bit difficult to understand through his thick German accent, but I listen carefully.

He begins by asking for my passport, and then for my name, age, and address in the United States. He spends an inordinate amount of time looking at my passport picture, and then at me, and then at the picture again, over and over. Finally, the interrogation begins.

“We understand that you caused a disturbance on the plane that put passengers at risk. Is this true?” It is difficult to take him seriously from his tone.

“No,” I reply. “All I did was take a magazine out of my bag, and a woman screamed. I did not realize it would be offensive.”

“Is this the magazine?” He puts the cover of “Sex Inspiration No. 11” on the table, and lays out an array of torn and crumpled pages, one after the other.

“Yes,” I say, and I can feel myself turning red.

“We received a complaint from the crew of the Lufthansa flight, because they said that you deliberately provoked a small riot on the plane.” He says this with a smile. “What was your purpose?”

I am finding this difficult to take seriously. “I did no such thing. My sister gave me a gift for my trip. I didn’t know what it was when I opened it.”

He looks at me and begins to snicker. “What kind of a sister gives her brother a magazine of this sort?”

The policeman who brought me to the room begins to snicker, too. ““What are you laughing at?!“ shouts the interrogator. "Warum lachen Sie?!”

They speak in German, and while I grasp a bit of it, I am pretty much at a loss. At the end of the brief conversation, the one who brought me to the room uses a word I do know from my tri-lingual Keliana magazines.

He points at me and whispers, “Schwanzlutscher.” It means “cocksucker.”

This angers me, not because I deny the accusation. I want so desperately to suck a cock, to suck Keliana’s cock. So, I haven’t yet become an “official” cocksucker. But it’s the way he says it that riles me. He says it with scorn.

My interrogator tells him to leave the room. Once he is on the other side of the door, the policeman smiles at me and says, “Do not let him bother you. He is a scheissekopf, a shithead.”

There is silence for a moment, and when I calm down, I ask the officer what is going to happen to me.

“Well,” he answers, dragging out his response. “That will be determined by whether you can pay the fine that I must impose.” The way he says this makes me think immediately that the “fine” is not something official.

“How much will it cost?” I ask.

“Oh, it is not money.” He pauses, and gathers his thoughts. Suddenly, he bangs his fist on the table. Shouting, he asks, “Where are the two missing pages from this magazine? Where is the rest of Keliana’s ‘Car Trouble’ story?”

He stares at me menacingly. I reach into my bag and pull out the last two pages that the man on the gangway gave me. He grabs them from my hand, and gathers all the pages from the table, shoving them quickly into a small satchel. He stands, puts out his hand, and looks me right in the eyes. “Let me show you to your connecting flight to Hamburg.”

* *

On the short flight to Hamburg, I spend most of my time trying to catch my breath. I feel as if I have dodged a bullet. While I have lost one of my Keliana magazines, and a gift from my sister no less, I am relieved that I am not in some German jail cell.

Finally, the flight arrives in Hamburg. I go through passport control with no problem, board a bus from the airport into the city, and search for the hostel at which I have a reservation. As I turn onto correct street, I notice a red neon sign: “Erotikshop.” It is directly across from the hostel, which seems rather odd. I enter.

There, on the very first rack I see, displayed prominently, is my beloved Keliana. I recognize her immediately, on the cover of “Fascination Nr. 2.” All is well with my world.

I hurry across the street to the hostel, my new magazine in my bag. At the desk, a young, pretty German girl checks me in and tells me the rules of the hostel. She speaks perfect English and uses a lot of British expressions. As I walk to the stairway to head to my room, she shouts across the lobby. “One more thing I forgot. I noticed you went into the sex shop across the street. If you’re going to do some wanking, try to keep the noise down when you …”

I am already on my way up the stairs, and can only imagine what might have been her last word.

to be continued …

[smc]

the story, continued …

I settle into the hostel quite nicely. There are very few people staying here, and it’s easy to find private places … something I was told would be nearly impossible in a hostel. This affords me the opportunity to pound my ass with the dildo I hid in my suitcase while I stroke my cock, aroused by the photo spread in “Fascination No. 2” that features Keliana. In deference to the young girl at the front desk, I muffle my scream when I cum by taking the dildo from my ass and deep-throating it just as the jizz shoots out of me. That’s a first. I like the feel of that veiny dildo, which looks just like a cock, shoved in my mouth.

* * *

With that refreshing, post-orgasmic feeling I’ve come to cherish seeming to wrap my entire body, I head out to explore Hamburg. I’m in this city because my uncle, who helped pay for the trip, thought I would like it and that it would make a good base for day trips to other parts of Germany on the train. Just before I left home, he took me aside and told me where I should go in Hamburg.

“You’re a man now,” he told me, “and you should go to St. Pauli and ‘sow your wild oats’. I had a nice girl there after the big war, just before I came home. She was my first. Maybe you’ll find your first, too, kid.”

Then he handed me some money for what he called my “side trip.”

I am laughing as I make my way to the red-light district. My uncle has no idea. Well, okay, he’s right that I’m a virgin. I went through high school too shy ever to ask a girl out. And then I found Keliana, and I lost my interest in any girl but her. I want her to be my first. I want her to be my only. I am a bit depressed to think how unlikely that is.

It’s a very nice summer night, and the walk to St. Pauli is a blast. I try to figure out what the signs in German mean, and I stop and look at all the buildings. They’re so different than home. Finally, I reach St. Pauli, and walk down the Reeperbahn, with it’s bars and sex shops and brothels. On Davidstra?e, street girls talk to me, even in English when I answer them. They ask me if I want a “date.” I remember the money from my uncle and wonder how to spend it.

I turn onto Herbertstra?e, where there are girls in the windows beckoning to me. I’ve never seen anything like this. But my heart is set on Keliana, and I know I won’t have my chance -- my one-in-a-zillion-chance -- until I find her in London.

Soon, I come upon another sex shop, with a “TV” display in the window. I notice magazines with special girls like Keliana, so I enter. To my shock, there at the front counter, is the same girl from the front desk at the hostel.

“Hey, it’s you, the American wanker,” she says. Quite a greeting. “This is my second job. What can I help you find?”

I’m embarrassed, so I tell her I’d just like to look around. I gravitate to the “TV/TS” section, where the real girls are, and begin to look for my darling Keliana. Suddenly, I feel someone behind me, and I hear a whisper in my ear. It’s that same girl.

“So, you like special girls,” she says, with a chuckle. “Any particular girl?”

I turn around, beet red. She is so close to me that I can feel her breath on my neck, which is as high up on me as she comes.

“It’s okay to tell me. I know everything in the shop. Why waste time searching when you can get what you want and go back to the hostel and pretend you’re fucking?” She says this with a smile. “I listened to you before, even though I could tell you tried to cover your mouth.”

I am ashamed and aroused at the same time. My dick is growing hard in my pants, and she’s so close to me that I’m afraid if it gets any bigger she’ll be able to feel it.

“Oh, come now, it’s okay to tell Grete.”

“Okay,” I say, “but please stand back a little bit.”

She laughs quietly and moves a few inches away from me. Then she looks down at the obvious bulge in my pants.

“How old are you?” she asks

I tell her.

“Now tell me who you’re special girl is, and I’ll find something for you.”

I decide to answer. “Keliana,” I say, “do you have anything with Keliana?”

Grete’s face lights up. “An excellent choice, sir,” she says, as she quickly flips through the magazines on the rack and pulls out a copy of “Young Love No. 1.”

Keliana’s face is not on the cover, but I recognize her beautiful girl cock. I’d know that cock anywhere. It is the object of my complete and total devotion, my overwhelming desire. I feel the precum begin to leak from my hard cock in my pants.

“You like it?” asks Grete. “Don’t you wonder who the other cock belongs to?”

“Yes,” I reply, “and I guess I’ll find out when I read the magazine. May I pay now?”

“Of course,” says Grete. “Follow me.”

I follow, but she doesn’t go the front counter. Instead, she heads to the back of the store. “I want to show you something really special.”

She leads me through a curtain into a dimly lit room and tells me to sit on a chair. She comes right in front of me, quickly lifts her skirt, and pushes her panties to the side. A small cock springs out, glistening with what I imagine must be precum just like what I can now feel gushing from my own cock.

“Maybe that’s me with Keliana on that cover,” she says, and laughs really loud. “Do you like it?”

to be continued …

[smc]

I have been asked in PMs whether this is a true story. Seriously.

It is a work of fiction and fantasy, and each installment comes to me as I write. There is no specific plan for where the story goes.

[smc]

the story, continued ?

The effect of Grete?s question ? ?Do you like it?? ? is immediate. I stand up and begin to shoot stream after stream of cum into my pants. I grunt loudly. Grete places one soft hand over my mouth to muffle the sound, and puts her other on my cock, caressing it through my pants. This makes me cum more, creating a large, visible wet spot between my legs. As my orgasm subsides, Grete takes one hand from my mouth and replaces it with the one that has on it some of the cum that went through my pants. She spreads it on my lips and kisses me, thrusting her tongue into me while she again rubs my wet pants. I feel my cock begin to spurt again.

Finally, completely spent, I collapse into the chair Grete moves forward and lifts her skirt again to take out her small, smooth cock. It sticks straight out. She puts it right up against my mouth, and commands me. ?Kiss it!?

Grete works her cock right between my lips. I want it so much, but feel like I am betraying Keliana. ?Suck it!? As I do, Grete leans over and bites my ear gently and then sticks her tongue in my ear, which sends a chill through me and causes my own cock to leak again. I shudder.

Suddenly, Grete moves back and her cock comes out of my mouth. As if reading my mind, she says, ?I want your full attention. We will continue this later.?

* * *

It turns out that Grete has a small, studio-like apartment in the back of the hostel, in which she lives rent-free in exchange for her shifts at the front desk. She gives me explicit instructions to come to her door later that night, after she is finished working at the sex shop. ?Knock four times,? she tells me, ?and then come in.? She adds, ?You should rest until then. We will be very busy.?

I gather my copy of ?Young Love No. 1,? pay for it at the counter, and begin to leave.

?Do not look any more at that magazine tonight,? Grete warns me. ?You will need all your energy. Do clean yourself up before you come to my room.?

* * *

Later that night, I knock on Grete?s door and enter a small studio apartment, essentially a living room with a bed off to one side, a small kitchenette, and a bathroom. Grete stands there in black lingerie. She has small tits and a small bulge in her panties. Her hair cascades over her shoulders. The lights are dimmed, and there are candles lit.

?I am glad you are visiting,? she says. ?I so hoped that you would not be scared away.?

I notice just how pretty she is. Keliana is beautiful, exotic, and mysterious looking. Grete has a ?girl-next-door? look, quite attractive and, I realize, very sexy.

She comes puts her arms around my waste, pulling me close. ?You have never had a girlfriend,? she says, in a tone that is half question and half statement. ?You are a virgin, yes??

Before I can answer, she puts her sweet, full lips to mine and kisses me, quite romantically. Her entire body seems to melt into me, and I kiss back fervently. My cock hardens in my pants, I can feel Grete?s mouth turn to a smile. She grinds herself against my hard cock.

After what seems an eternity, Grete breaks away, takes my hand, sits me on her bed, unbuckles my belt, and begins to pull my pants down. Once they are off, she falls to her knees, takes my hard cock in her hand, and begins to stroke it up and down. Her hands are soft and warm. Precum oozes from the tip of my cock, which she uses to lubricate me. ?Please, control yourself,? she says. ?I have much to show you.?

I nod and try to stem the rising feeling of hot cum churning in my balls. She stops stroking and kisses the tip of my cock, covering her tongue with my precum, then rises and kisses me again. I taste myself in a completely different way. ?You like cum when it is shared,? she says.

Grete gets back on her knees and admonishes me again to control myself. Then she begins to suck on my cock, first taking about swallowing about half of it but then reaching up, grabbing my hand, and putting it on the back of her head. From her movements, I can tell she wants me to push her mouth down so that she has every inch of me in her, all the way to my balls. More precum oozes out, but I control the tremendous urge to cum. She does this for a few minutes, and then stops, crawls up on the bed, lies on her back, and says, ?Bring your cock to me, baby. I want you to fuck my mouth, just like a pussy.?

I do as told, fucking Grete?s mouth slowly, with long strokes. I can feel tingling inside of her mouth. She begins to massage my balls and I feel them tighten. She looks at me and nods her head, while my cock is still in her mouth. This is a signal, and suddenly I begin to spew cum into Grete?s mouth, never slowing down my fucking of her. Just before I feel as if there is no more left, Grete grabs my cock, pulls it outr, squeezes it tightly, and coaxes one last stream of hot jizz right onto her lips. She jumps up quickly, grabs my head, and sticks her tongue in my mouth. We kiss, and I swallow a bit of my own cum. She repeats, ?You like cum when it is shared.?

Grete tells me to strip completely, and we lie together on the bed, arm in arm. She puts one leg over me, and I feel wetness. Her little dick is leaking. ?It is fine. I always cum a little when I am sucking.?

We lie there for a while, silently, until Grete suddenly speaks. ?There is much more we can do,? she says. ?Would you like to?? I nod.

?I want you to suck me, not like at the sex shop, but as I sucked you.? She sits on me, straddling my face and placing her now-hard cock right in my mouth. ?Remember what I did for you, and do that for me.?

Soon, she is fucking my mouth. Her cock tastes delicious from the small bit of cum that already leaked from her. In only a few minutes, she fills my entire mouth and throat with a massive amount of warm, delicious cum, much different than what my own is like. Grete?s cum is sweet, with the consistency of honey warmed to flow more easily. I realize that I could get used to drinking this every day!

Grete gets off of me and again gives me a cum-sharing kiss. My cock becomes as hard as I can ever remember. Pulling off her lingerie, Grete presents herself to me completely naked. She pulls me to the edge of the bed, has me sit, and climbs onto my lap. I can feel my cock touching the smoothness of her thighs and her ass. She kisses me again, and spreads her legs wide to straddle me. Her cock is against my stomach, and I feel more precum oozing from my own cock.

Grete reaches behind herself and massages my hard cock, and, with the same hand, grabs one of my hands and pushes it down her back to her ass. ?Put your finger in me,? she whispers in my ear. This is new to me. I push my middle finger against her asshole. She groans and speaks. ?I want to give you my pussy.?

I press in deeper, and her tight back pussy gives way. ?Fuck me with your finger,? Grete says. I do, and then she tells me to taste it. I am pleasantly surprised by the taste of the nectar of flowers.

?Put it back in,? Grete insists. ?Make me ready for you.?

Her back pussy is so tight and wonderful, and as I fuck her with my finger, her cock jumps against my stomach. My own continues leaking.

?I want you inside of me,? Grete mumbles. She hoists herself up just a bit from my lap and sits right down on my hard cock. I feel some resistance, but quickly I am in her all the way to my balls. ?I used your natural lubricant,? she says. ?It?s the best way?

It is a wonderful feeling, as good as her cock in my mouth. ?Please, kiss my breasts,? she says. ?Suck on my nipples.?

Grete?s breasts are small and beautiful, with rock-hard pink nipples that quiver as my hot breath hits them, even before she feels the wetness of my mouth. Suddenly, a hot, clear stream drips out of Grete?s cock onto my stomach. ?I have more,? she whispers.

As Grete continues to bounce up and down on my cock, I feel it become harder and fatter inside of her. She is clearly enjoying this. She begins to shake her head from side to side, guttural sounds come from her, and I hear an occasional deep moan. Her back pussy feels as if it is on fire.

All of a sudden, I feel as if I am going to cum. Grete can feel it, too, so she slows down and says, ?Wait. Cum with me, when I kiss you.? She resumes her bouncing. I feel the tip of my cock hitting something hard inside of her. My balls are so tight, and I can barely keep from bursting. Thankfully, at this moment, Grete lets out a loud scream and then covers my mouth with hers. My cock begins to shoot cum deep into her as hers sprays my stomach. I feel one, then another, and then another big spurt from me into her back pussy. She keeps her mouth on mine, and our tongues dance together furiously as we both shoot our hot jizz.

After a minute or two, Grete leans back away, still impaled on my cock. I feel cum dripping onto my legs from her pussy. She climbs off, gets on her knees, and licks cum off my legs and stomach, and then takes my softening cock in her mouth. When I am clean, she kisses me and then says, ?Time for bed.? We snuggle close together and fall asleep.

* * *

Light streams through the window and I awake the next morning to see Grete, looking beautiful, scurrying about. She is dressed. ?Take your time. Come see me at the front desk before you gou out to explore Hamburg.? She runs over, kisses me quickly, and goes out her door.

I begin to rise. Grete rushes back in, opens a closet door, and grabs something. ?I nearly forgot,? she says. ?This is for you. I bet you have never seen this one.? She tosses ?Tight Ropes? across the room, with Keliana on the cover. Grete almost made me forget her.

?Do you see what it says?? Grete asks. ?Tied and bound. Perhaps you will like what you see, and we can play again tonight.? And then she is gone.

to be continued ...

[keliana]

I've been reading all this with unbridled lust, feeling the pursuit and the heat building up. Can't wait for the next installment. Glad you like the magazines.

Keliana

[bigjoe]

youre just so erotic keliana! so so gorgeous!
kisssssssssssssss from ireland
jock your mate

[smc]

the story, continued …

My plan had been to spend the entire day seeing all the sights of Hamburg and then ask Grete out for a proper date, since she told me that tonight she doesn’t have to work at the sex shop. But I get a late start. With her invitation to take my time, I decide to explore “Tight Ropes” instead, and quickly find the Keliana spread. I am mesmerized. The promise of the front cover, “tied and bound,” is fulfilled on every page. There is my Keliana, tied to a bed in various poses. In one picture, she is face down, with a butt plug in her beautiful ass and sexy stockings up to her thighs. In another, she lies on her back, completely naked but for powder-blue silk panties, seeming to beckon me to the bed with her smile. In the next picture, she has pushed the panties to the side and her delicious girl cock is pointing straight up. And in yet another, a close up of that picture, I see a small drop of her delicious cum on the tip of her cock. This makes me so hard that I must cum myself. With reckless abandon, I look for and find a pair of Grete’s silk panties, nearly the same color. I want Keliana so bad that I must recreate the scene. I use Grete’s panties, feeling the silk against my cock, rubbing and rubbing until I shoot my load into them. Not knowing what else to do, I stuff them in the pocket of my pants.

By now, I’ve devoted an hour of my day to Keliana instead of to sightseeing. I straighten Grete’s bed, sniffing the sheets and smelling sex, before putting on my clothes, going to my bed in the hostel, and putting her panties – soaked with my jizz – under the pillow. After a shower and a change of clothes, I head downstairs, where she is checking in a couple of teenage girls from another part of Germany. She smiles when she sees me. I wait for her to finish, and ask her about going out that night. She agrees.

* * *

It’s a beautiful day in Hamburg, and I wander the city. I especially like the waterfront. All day, though, I see things that remind me of Keliana. When I stop at a caf? in the mid-afternoon and close my eyes for a few moments, I first see Grete bouncing on my cock, but very quickly she is replaced by a vision of Keliana. I am obsessed.

Later, Grete and I enjoy a traditional German meal at a small restaurant in the city, and then we take a walk through the city for about an hour. She holds on to my arm as we walk, and it feels like she is my girlfriend. My heart and mind are racing. Obviously, Grete is the first girl with whom I have had sex. She’s pretty, and she’s nice. I really like her. But thoughts of Keliana, of Keliana’s smoldering sexuality, of Keliana in bed, of Keliana in a garden, of Keliana sitting on a wall, always overcome the pictures of Grete in my mind. How is it possible, I wonder, when I have only seen Keliana’s cock in a magazine but had Grete’s cock in my mouth?

We make our way back to the hostel and to Grete’s room. She asks me about “Tight Ropes.” I tell her how aroused it made me. She goes to the same closet and pulls out some long, silken cords. “Tie me to the bed,” she says, and gets up on all fours with her hands by the bedposts. I oblige, and when her hands are secured she instructs me to take off her skirt and panties. Her beautiful behind stares at me, and her blonde hair cascades down her back and over her silk blouse. I stare at her for a few moments, lusting after the delicious cock that is dangling in view.

“What do I do now?” I ask.

Grete giggles. “Pound me like a slut,” she says. “Fuck me like you want to break me in half.”

“But ...,” I begin to protest.

“It’s okay,” she says. “I want it, for me.”

I fuck Grete so hard that rather than feeling like she’ll break in half, I feel as if my cock is going to fall off. She fucks me back, moving her back pussy onto my cock with such ferocity that it’s hard to believe it’s the same girl from the night before. But when it’s time to cum in Grete, I imagine that I’m filling Keliana.

* * *

The next day, the Hamburg portion of my trip to Germany is over. Grete takes me out for breakfast before checking me out of the hostel. She even sees me to the train station, where I’m bound for Cologne, and then Munich, before making my way back to Frankfurt for a flight to Paris. I so want to visit Berlin, but my aunts and uncles who paid for the trip said no.

At the train station, Grete kisses me full on the lips, rubs my cock through my pants, and whispers in my ear. “I know you took my panties.”

I nod.

“Was I really your first?” she asks. “Tell me the truth.”

“Yes,” I reply.

“Well, I wish I would see you again, but I know you are on a quest.”

I tell her that I’m just going to Cologne and Munich for sightseeing, and nothing more.

“No, silly,” she says, laughing. “That is not what I mean.” As the train whistle blows, and the conductor shouts that all of us on the platform must board the train, Grete reaches into her bag and hands me a magazine. “I mean this quest,” she says. “You are looking for Keliana. I know it. I could feel it when you were inside of me last night.”

I hold “Baby Dolls” in my hands, with Keliana on the cover, the sun streaming through a window and lighting her up in a yellow dress. The cover describes it as “the magazine of sexy little creatures,” with “cute little nymphets who love to fondle and explore.” I am growing conspicuously aroused by the thought of fondling a little nymphet named Keliana, and of being fondled by her, and of mutual exploration. What hidden treasures are beneath that yellow dress? Damn! Again, I feel myself leaking.

My thoughts are cut short by the sound of Grete’s voice. She gives me a quick peck on the cheek and begins to run up the platform toward the station. “Don’t forget me!” she shouts.

How could I? Even if I find my Keliana, there will always be Grete, my first in the flesh. And now I know exactly what to do with Keliana, thanks to Grete.

to be continued ...

[keliana]

Great latest installment. Amazing how well you write and how it develops, there are even surprising turns to the events too..you ARE a good writer of erotica! I am turned on every time I read it!

Thanks again for making it all happen with my photos

Keliana