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Agnes' Sex Story! :D

A sex story? :/ That's a tough one. I guess it's mostly about writing all those dirty words together with an unrealistic, poor tale about some smoking hot girl riding a fat middelaged man with a hairy belly from Düsseldorf, Germany. I consider it kind of funny, but also a little bit sad. It's okay to fantasize, but come on … it's a missed penalty with no goalkeeper to even think something like that. I don't understand it. Why would you possibly fantasize about something that is so implausible? Think we have all read about that pimple faced teenager who, because of his math teacher who sooo horny, gets his viginity taken right in the classroom.
“Have you locked the door, mrs. Everett?”
Of course she has – otherwise she couldn't moan so loudly during the intercouse and in the end scream out her orgasm that this virgin boy has given her. Because when the door is LOCKED no one will hear her!
“I have a class coming in ten minutes so you better come all over my face now.”
Yeah, of course he gotta! All over her face, hair, shirt and glasses. Ten minutes? She has all the time in the world cleaning up this mess!
The female teacher/student is pretty damn unlikely. I know you have heard about ALL of these mature teachers from all over the USA having sex with their young students, but do you really believe it went on this way?
I am able to bear over with the hot teacher fantasi a little though, but only because it's the “young boy's fantasy”, and in that age you have every right to be as unserious as you like. But still … try to make it a little more realistic. Think of something that maybe have a tiny, tiny chance of happening. I believe it would feel much better for you, too 🙂

Well. Back to the sex story. How should mine be like … Okay I got it!

It's me on the beach. Since I'm on a business trip on behalf of the HDNF (Horny Danish Nurses Foundation) my husband isn't with me, so I have every possibility in the world for being unfaithful with the least of risks of getting exposed! It's Australia, and I'm here to get a great deal home on the best of syringes for my hospital. But I'm on the beach (right?) and suddenly everybody leave. It's in the middle of the afternoon and I'm all alone, but then that hot Swedish guy who performed “Popular” at the EUROVISION Music Contest suddenly comes jogging in the surf. I can't believe it's really him, and I get all excited and Wauw! because I really thought he was SOOO hot when I watched the show earlier this month. I'm thinking about calling out his name – Hello Eric! – but I don't dare. Fortunately enough he stops right in front of me to recover his breath, and when he accidently lifts his glance and sees me it almost sends a chill down my spine – only in a good way. It's obvious that the look of my half naked body turns him on, and while he just stands there and stares at me I can see how his big cock starts to make a bulge in his loose surfershorts. The sight of him gets me turned on and without thinking much about it I start to massage my breasts.
“Oh, Eric,” I say and pull down my bikini top so my perky tits get exposed. “I've waited for you. How I just want you so bad!”
He doesn't answer me, but takes off his sweaty tee shirt and walk toward me. He squats in front of me and start kissing my thighs while lying a gentle hand on my panties. He makes me so hot, and I want him to fuck me, so I let him take them off. He starts to lick me and I feel his hot shoulders with my vivid hands. He is so good at it, and I come very quickly. I tell him that I've just come in his mouth, and he tells me – in Swedish of course – that it's okay.
“How did it taste, Eric darling?” I ask as she crawls over me to kiss me on the mouth. “Tell me how my wet pussy tasted like.”
“Like strawberries with cream,' he says and kisses me so intimately.
“Oh, Eric, I want you inside of me,” I say and pull down his shorts. He has a very slender and muscular body so they come of very easily. “Why don't you take that big cock and put it in my wet pussy?”
He isn't wearing any tights – he normally wears red ones, but this morning he was very horny and decided to do without – so he immediately penetrate me, and I scream to the wonderful feeling of his big cock working its way into me.
He fucks me so good for about 20 or 30 minutes, and when I can see he's about to come I tell him: “Come all over my face, Eric. Let me feel that hot Swedish Eurovision participant cum all over my pretty face!”
He pulls out and I can see my juices shining on his huge dick as he starts to stroke it in front of my face. He roars like a wild a****l when he squirts his white cream all over my face, and playing with my wet pussy I give myself another orgasm that is so intense and strong that my whole body starts to quiver. He tastes so wonderful, and it's such a divine feeling having my face covered in his white cum.
“Thank you, Agnes,” he says and offers me an exhausted and sincere smile.
“You're welcome, Eric,” I say and put a hand to his sweaty cheek. “But how do you know my name?”
He looks a little confused now. “I don't really know,” he says and smile again – oh that sweet smile of his. “Maybe just a lucky guess.”
“I voted for you, Eric,” I say and see a f****y coming further down the beach, but I don't care.
“You did?”
“Of course,” I say and smile to him. “You're my baby, you know that.”
“OH, MY GOD!” It's the mother of the f****y coming. She's covering her daughter's sight with a flat hand. “You sick people! What do you think you're doing! God!”
I hear that she's talking German and now I see that it's the German Cancellor, Angela Merkel.
“Hey!” the man beside her say in Dutch. His snow white hair and creepy greasy face tells me that it's Geert Wilders: The leader of the Dutch Racist Party – or something like that. He seems like Hitler's grand c***d all the same. “If I catch you doing that again, I might have to join the party. How'd you like that, huh?”
Eric looks at me. He's all pale. “I suddenly feel nausia,” he says.
“No k**ding,” I say and feel the sweat on my body and face become cold. “That's some of a threat. Better not take any chances. His cock must be as white as his hair.”
“What you want with us when you got Merkel?” Eric says. “She's a nice piece of ass. Booty-licious if you ask me!”
“You serious?” I ask, kind of nervous that he is.
“Not really,” he whispers.
Geert turns to Merkel and takes a good look at her. Studys her behind and front. She doesn't look very comfortable about the situation. “I don't know, Eric,” he answers and turns his attention back to us. “She's kind of fat, isn't she?”
Eric doesn't consider this. “Yeah, she might be a little fat.”
“Kind of ugly, too,” Geert says.
“Yeah,” Eric says and smiles. I can't help from giggling. “She might be very ugly, too.”
“And try to keep in mind that the election haven't even been yet,” Geert Wilders says. “Imagine how that huge piece of flesh will look like after she has got her ass beaten by the Socialdemocrats!”
“Not a pretty sight, Geert,” he says.
“God no! You can bet your bobcat it ain't going to be a pretty sight,' he says and laughs out loudly. He turns to Merkel again. “Come on you old bitch. Leave those young people alone and bake me that swastitika shaped bagel as you promised me.” He offers us a wave. “Have a nice one!” Gives Merkel a good smack in her fat ass that makes her squeal like a pig and walks away. She follows him with their daughter.
“What a sick, sick man,” I say as we watch them disappear behind an ice cream shop.
“You bet,” Eric answers.

– The End.

Best wishes,

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