I often day dream and reminisce about past experiences I have had and I keep a diary of the fantasies I have created. For your reading pleasure I am sharing some of my fondest memories with you now.....



My International Lover
by Adrianna Carter, July 2012

The brisk, dawn air bit through the opened window revealing the newness of the day. Already, we had made love twice, once before the sun rose, and I felt an excited energy fueled further by the espresso. It was early enough that a blanket of snow still coated the streets, yet uncrossed by the morning traffic. The sun shown the morning's dew thawing on the steps of the Sprüngli Confiserie just across the way and I was reminded just how far away from home I had traveled to see him.

My skin was sweetly moist, bare beneath the plush, white robe monogrammed with the hotel's initials. We had showered together, as we always did, hungrily sliding our hands all over each other. There was always a glorious climax, perhaps ignited by the remote anonymity of the various international cities wherever we met. Almost roughly, he grasped my long, dark hair while massaging the roundness of my ass with sweet almond soap. As the water trickled quietly down my neck, our lips met from the side with hot wetness and he pushed into me from behind. The steam of the shower lent a different feeling to his shaft as he forced into me first with a little resistance due to the slipperiness of the water until his cock met with warm honey between my legs and then slid smoothly, rhythmically, forth and back.

His thrust was great and skillful, the sign of a gentleman who had developed wisdom over time of how to use his passion to please a woman. He bent his knees slightly as he withdrew his person then overtly thrust, hesitating long enough to make sure that he had penetrated as deep as my body would allow. I grasped the walls of the shower as my cheek hugged the warm, dewy tile. The shiny, glitter polish on my toes gathered drops of moisture and my skin softened, succumbing to the stifling steam. The contrast of our age excited him further. He loved the girlfriend experience that we shared. I reached back to softly massage him and that's when his climax built, panting over my shoulder like a beast in heat and he shot his essence into me.

Hotel breakfasts in Zürich are moments to be savored. Hotel breakfasts in the States are not the same. As traffic began to cut through the snowy streets of Zürich, I nibbled on the last bit of cheese and buttery croissant then sauntered over to the closet. I wasn't sure what to wear. I'd never been to a spa in the Alps before. He had instructed me to bring a swimsuit.

We met in Seattle, he was attending a business conference. His fashion was unassuming as was his demeanor. His wit was dry, his conversation minimal, yet rich with experience and travel. His midriff showed subtle signs of gourmet dining but in an entirely acceptable manner. He wasn't a wealthy man by economic standards, but wealth is counted in far more ways than just monetary. He was drawn to my colorful, dynamic, outspoken way. He felt that my outgoing personality complimented his reserve. He relished my confident, classy yet sassy manner in which we interacted. He knew that he didn't have to try too hard to impress me. I appreciated him for who he was. Such chemistry is an honor between a companion and her client. But what it did for us behind closed doors moved the earth.

Water trickled behind the bathroom door. Feeling sexual, I loosened my robe, allowing it to fall slowly to the floor. The low volume of Melody gardot resonated in the background. His impeccable hygiene excited me and I gently squeezed my breasts, remembering how he liked to excite my nipples, softly biting then sucking first one, then the other. I stared at my reflection in the mirror inside the closet door and touched myself the way he did. Even then, I was still moist from the morning sex and slid my middle finger inside my tightness, remembering the first time we made love. I admired my olive skinned body with its womanly curves in all the desired places. I like to pamper myself. I love being a woman and it shows.

I knew not where he drove. After a while of quenching conversation and winding through the Alps, I became aware of the warmness of the fur lining of my coat flush with the soft, caramel leather of the heated seat. Just ahead, a tunnel chiseled its way amidst the vastness of the surreal, snow capped mountains and my libido stirred. The sexual, mischievous girl in me smiled devilishly and caught his eye.

As we crept into the dark tunnel behind a trail of other cars, I detected a delay. Feeling hot and naughty, I casually leaned over and unfastened the fly of his pants. Sensing my intent, he grew awkward then overridden with pleasure as I gathered the softness of him into the warmth of my mouth with plump, velvet lips. Feeling his quick transformation into hardness as the tip reached the back of my throat caused my pussy to throb with an increasing wetness that making my french lace panties slide about. I couldn't help myself. I could feel his cock crowding my throat, so deep I almost gagged. But ecstasy prevailed and I exploded into orgasm. In the pitch blackness of the tunnel, I sat up, ripped off my coat, peeled tight, leather pants and quickly climbed over the console into his lap. Anticipation of the act itself was so forbidden and unheard of for a conservative man of his age and stature. But it conjured his deepest fantasies, to feel as though he was young, crazy and virile. Desired is what I made him feel.

The compact angle of the seat plunged his shaft deep into me, practically swallowing my g spot. I barely had to move in a rhythmic motion to achieve an electrifying orgasm. Noting the urgency of my climax and swollen nipples piercing through my cashmere sweater, he almost tore it apart as his lips pulled one in his mouth which he sucked fiercely. This humble, quiet, meager of a man was allowing me to take him wildly in the driver's seat of his sports car in a tunnel in the Alps of Switzerland. As if he could get any harder, I felt the sensation of an orgasm boiling up his shaft to the surface of his dick and he shot a load deep in my pussy with an explosion that caused me to scream.

The spa was breathtaking, a dream I had never imagined. He looked at me and smiled shyly, knowing what we were about to enjoy. I got a sense that the day's activities were only a prelude of what was to come as he had reserved the entire spa just for us. The outdoor pool, nestled in the mountains, emitted a haze of bubbly steam. Just then, the sun broke through the clouds, a rainbow cascaded its colorful rays over the pool and a delicate flurry of snowflakes fell from the sky. I was then greeted by an angelic, blonde Swiss girl with robe, slippers and wine. I could have kissed her pink, swollen lips right there. For sure I had died and gone to heaven. But then, I remembered my man, ready to take me again in the steamy pool amidst the vastness of the Alps and I smiled.


Proper Seduction
by Adrianna Carter, Sept 2011

The truth is that I found him very attractive. It's doesn't always start with the physical though I did crave his body and what it did to mine. Chemistry can ignite on any number of levels. He sought intimacy, first and foremost, a true gfe experience, what he lacked with his wife. He needed to feel more than just a physical alliance. He needed to feel accents of friendship, comradery, an acceptance of his manhood without false illusions, what he no longer received at home.

He liked to explore my body but not only with his mouth or his member. His hands would caress me and while the urgency was there, age and wisdom had taught him foreplay of the mind. He would simply touch my body all over, nothing too complicated, just the sexual nourishment of skin touching skin. His fingers would trace the outline of my lips, then gently circle my nipples, working their way down to my navel, casually talking about his day, stress melting away. But his body told a different story. As we lay side by side, his person stood vertical and erect, oozing clear nectar that I longed to taste. Love making of the mind has that effect. It's a controlled heat, white hot, conjuring an unspoken fervor that builds a slow pressure.

His seduction was decidedly slow though juices flooded my thighs in hurried anticipation. He flirted with time as each of our encounters was 4 hours minimum smoothly dismissing any anticipation of closure.

He would not end his sexless marriage of 25 years though the interaction, what brought them together in the first place, was long dead. Theirs was a tangled knot of charades, decades of mutual friends, mortgages, assets and 2 children in college. I represented peace and balance in his life. I filled the void. And I loved it. In the middle his sentence, I would kiss him, abruptly replacing the thought with a burning desire of what now needed to be expressed. That is when he took my trembling hand and placed it around his cock, already rock hard. If before I was the graciously feminine confidante, I quickly emerged as the naughty girl who needed to have it in her mouth immediately. He grabbed my hair gently yet firmly, an air of respect never forgotten and pushed my mouth below until my throat was engorged, lips sucking his shaft. The neglected man of 25 years now controlled the motion, manipulating my mouth up toward the swollen ridge that I lapped with the softness of my tongue. Just as the pulsating intensified, he pulled out and threw me back onto the bed. As he mounted me, our eyes locked and the peripheral world evaporated into nothingness.

Penetration delivered a celestial invasion and I screamed an insatiable 'fuck me'. Again, 'fuck me harder' as he drank in the excitement that he caused, his erection hardening even more. I begged for his lips only this time with suction as I arched my back and offered my swollen nipples. It wouldn't be long. But he knew how I wanted it. His strokes grew into rapid pumps of pounding force as he grasped my waist, pulling me into him. Animalistic thrusts released deep, throaty moans as the explosion was so close.

He pushed himself away from me, his member bouncing subtly in the cool air with the rigidity of a 25-year old man. He turned me over and pushed my back forward, stretching a deep arch, exposing the plump, roundness of my derrière. He immediately entered me again. I grasped for the sheets as he grabbed my hair and I cried out. His rhythm gained momentum. Frantic thrusts reverberated throughout my entire body to the ends of my fingertips as he panted and pounded harder, faster and deeper until he reached a violent climax. Sweat dripped from his chin onto my shoulders, running down my spine and puddling into the small of my lower back as he wilted over me, exhausted in ecstasy. And then, we both collapsed.

The champagne felt like liquid gold cooling my fevered mouth. As I returned from the bathroom freshly showered with my lips glossed and makeup refreshed, I noticed a small, chocolate brown pouch atop a pillow on the bed. He grinned, adjusting his shirt in the mirror. Slowly and quietly, I loosened the little, satin strings. I removed the drops of 2 strands of earrings, Russian, gold flower filigrees, ornate with Swarovski crystals and pearls. No doubt, the gift presented a perfect marriage to my Hérve Léger hourglass, pencil dress and he knew it.

The classically, understated gentleman that he was, announced our dinner engagement at one of my favorite restaurants, before I could even begin to express my enthusiasm.


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