tagFetishA Matter of Taste Ch. 01

A Matter of Taste Ch. 01

bylilactwist©

I met her first on the tennis court. I was in Germany, in the north, on business. I had essentially finished all my meetings for the week, it was Friday, and I was returning to the States on Sunday. Often on trips, when I can, I try to hook up some tennis at local clubs in the cities I'm visiting; you can often find a doubles match looking for a partner. I had been to this club before and had played some good sets.

At any rate, I'm on the court, my partner is a young German woman, kind of stocky, pretty good player who covers nicely for my deficits. We're ahead of our opponents 5-3. Playing against us is a couple, he, around 50, has a beer gut but is very nimble, she, around 40, beautiful blond frauline, slim, athletically figured and a strong but inconsistent player; she takes a lot of risks, but doesn't score well on many of them. No one talks much since I don't speak German very well and besides, it seems as if no one really knows each other; we're all thrown together by convenience just to get a game going. We win the set and partners change. I greet the blond woman in German (I know only enough to get by in stores, restaurants, and hotels, really not much at all) and she shyly responds to me in kind. Her face up close is quite pretty, stunning, actually. When I serve, I glance at her wonderful legs and tight ass and for most of the set. I concentrate on thinking what she might look like naked.

"Man I'm playing like shit," I felt. "The guy on the other side looks cute, but he probably doesn't speak English. Besides, this asshole with me is just giving them the game. Oh well, so much for random matching.

I don't know what I was thinking, I mean I wasn't looking for an affair or anything, but being away from one's element and feeling kind of temporarily disengaged from the normal responsibilities does allow one to fantasize every now and then. I think he caught my eye, but then it was probably about some dumb stroke I fucked up on and gave away some points. Then we lost and changed partners. He said something like hello in perfect German and I said basically all I knew how to say, "hello," and smiled. I was right, he doesn't speak English.

I was still really tired and jet-lagged from the flight two days ago and the TV crews were giving me a really endless schedule and list of requirements. This tennis was my own personal claim to space and relaxation, a little exercise can't hurt. Besides, I had planned for a calm visit to the spa and had scheduled a massage to break down my physical anxiety about the whole trip, the filming and the demands. I had the evening completely to myself and didn't have to be anywhere until noon tomorrow.

While away on business, I always get horny and toward the end of my trips I think about fucking anything with tits; not that bad, but waitresses, concierges, secretaries, museum patrons, you name it, I imagine myself deep inside them. Now here was a gorgeous opportunity playing on my team, showing me her figure, running, jumping all over the place. When we passed mid court, I would try and gather her scent. Wafting by, it was a heady mixture of a pure floral soap and tennis sweat. I concentrated not to get hard there; my shorts would be too revealing. Needless to say, due to my obsessive sexual focus, we lost the set sorely (6-2) and our match was over. I thanked her, meekly threw up my arms in defeat and walked up to the net, not knowing what to do next. She was probably meeting her husband afterward. I bid farewell to the opponents, who responded warmly in German, some long phrase I have no idea what it was, and I laughed heartily, showing I understood them, and left the courts.

Now I played much better with him on my team. I was getting all these great shots, but he was fucking up royally, totally hitting long or more often than not into the net. The opponents kept winking at each other as they collected points which should have been ours. In the end they won and I wasn't really pissed because I felt my game was improving, but I did want to chat more with my teammate. Unfortunately, he immediately said his farewells, perhaps he was embarrassed for his poor hitting, and disappeared. Well I had a nice spa visit ahead and was planning on dining at my favorite restaurant in peace that night.

This club was great; the courts and adjoining athletic facilities were connected to a very fancy mineral bath and spa. The locker room serviced both enterprises. In the spa, there were all sorts of pools: hot, cold, mineral, plain; there were wet and dry saunas, massage rooms, etc. Like most baths in Europe, everyone paraded around naked; men and women, young and old, fat and thin. Big stretchy hanging bellies alongside a body with perfect breasts; a tired old cranky uncircumcised dong next to a wonderfully shaven pussy. One tries hard to enjoy the sensual aspects of the water treatments without thinking too much about sex; it would be most inappropriate to wave a hard on in front of all these patrons who seek relaxation and comfort.

I entered the hallway leading toward the locker room and the blonde is there. We see each other and smile warmly at the entrance doors to the locker rooms. I say, thank you again, I hope to play again sometime (or something close) and I go in the men's room as she goes into the women's room. Obviously, I'm thinking about her as I undress, hoping desperately that she'll continue as I intend to, to the baths, and not just shower and leave. I undress, grab a towel and go into the baths. I sit and soak in a large hot bubbling pool for awhile and think about my trip, the tennis game, and the blonde. No she's not there, or anywhere for that matter. I exit the pool and enter a very warm dry tile room with big wooden lounge chairs. It's very quiet and extremely calming. My muscles ache a bit, but are feeling good after the workout.

As I leave the sports center and enter the spa changing area, I see him and we catch each other's eyes. He looks at me very warmly and says something I cannot understand, again in German. I'm a little shy seeing him again, though I really wanted to, and smile back, say hello and go into the woman's room. I figure we'll meet somewhere in the pools. It doesn't even occur to me that we'll be stark naked.

I've scheduled a massage, which is coming up in about 30 minutes. There's a pair of old German ladies across from me, both with enormous tits drooping down their tummies. I pretend to close my eyes and peek at one of their crotches more out of habit than out of lust. It's like a gray bush; big blue veins sticking out of the thigh meat. Ugh! That'll settle any sexual notion I may have had. On one side of me is a vacant chair, on the other is a young man, about 20, reading a German newspaper. Nobody really talks or communicates with anyone else; it's very peaceful. I close my eyes and sink into a warm catatonic state.

I'm startled out of my doze my the creaks of the chair next to me as a new person sinks into it. Still pretending to be asleep, I sneak a look at the visitor; it's blondie. Holy shit! She's lying next to me, hasn't recognized me; actually hasn't looked, and is start naked, laying on a towel she placed on the chair. She adjusts herself and closes her eyes. Her body is perfect, it seems. A pure white, I can see some freckles on her neck, her smallish but still firm breasts, dark and luscious nipples. Her stomach is tight and her mons is clean shaven from this angle. For a woman her age (my age) she looks great, actually edible. Even better, there's no one with her. Her straight, chic shoulder length hair falls back and she breathes calmly. I don't know what to do; bothering her would be such an intrusion, but then I might lose this opportunity. I glance at the clock and I've got 10 minutes to get to the massage appointment. Blonde pussy or not, I want that treatment! I slowly open my eyes, move to gather my towel, and stand up, ready to leave. I turn around to straighten the chair and pick up my water bottle and she's up, staring at me.

In German, she says very affectionately, "Hello again," and then something I didn't quite understand until the end when I think she said "... this health spa."

I laughed and said hello back to her. Not knowing what else to say (or not being able to with the language) I said in English, "Do you speak a little English, I really don't speak German."

She let out a burst and laughed. The other people in the room were now looking at us, annoyed that we broke the peace. The German ladies whispered disapprovingly.

"English? I'm American. I can't speak German very well either, only what I remember from college." I thought your accent sounded so authentic, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

I responded, "If I had known, we could've communicated and won that last set."

She responded, "I'm usually shy when I'm in another country and especially when I'm playing doubles with a stranger. How funny."

I held out my hand, trying not to stare at this amazing naked work of art. "My friends call me Red. I'm finishing a week of business here and return home to New York on Sunday."

"Carla, I'm from Chicago and I'm about to be late for a massage downstairs."

I looked at the clock and she was right. "Me too!," I said and we quickly wrapped ourselves in the white fluffy towels and went down to the treatment areas together. Turns out she had been here four times over the last three months and someone had told her about the baths; she discovered the tennis by herself. We had adjoining rooms and went our separate ways.

As this big lunk of a heavyset chambermaid pounded the aches from my arms and back, I thought of the coincidence of meeting him upstairs, naked, no less. He had a beautiful body and I could almost smell his lust for me. I fantasized while being stroked and rubbed how it might feel to be kissed by someone else, perhaps him. It wasn't that I didn't love my husband or wasn't happy in my marriage, I just felt like justifying a "vacation," something no one would ever need know about. I mean people do it every day, why couldn't I have those feelings?

As the therapist dug deeper into my shoulders, I gently rubbed my pussy against the towel, ever so lightly, catching the tip of my clit and arousing a sensual feeling. I kind of dozed off while she worked on me, thinking of how he would enter me, if he was good. I wondered if I could handle anything at all, or would I chicken out? Maybe he was great, maybe evil? I wondered if he could handle my nasty side, if I chose to let it out.

A very relaxed hour later, we lay side by side in a cool quiet room on our towels, naked, slightly oily from the massages, on comfortable leather lounge chairs. "I feel great," she says dreamily, eyes closed. There are hardly any others in this room, only an older couple in the far corner, deeply concentrating on newspapers. I look over at her. Her towel is draped loosely over her torso, both lovely breasts exposed, her crotch covered.

I am lying next to him, very jellied and limp. I decided to tease him to test his reaction, I mean he may not be interested.

One of her hands works its way down her crotch and stays there, not moving. Her other hand begins to massage her left breast slowly, in circles, her breathing gets a little quicker and pretty soon she takes the nipple in between the index finger and thumb and pinches as her nipple stiffens. She opens her eyes and stares at me watching her from a few feet away. My towel is loosely covering my crotch, which has noticeably begun to stir, however relaxed I am.

"Did you enjoy that?," she asks, "I love this place, all these naked people everywhere. I know you've been checking me out, I can only imagine what you've been thinking til now."

I was dumbstruck and speechless. I shot back, "Nice nipples, especially when they're hard."

I felt my cock begin engorgement. I knew I couldn't get up and walk away with a flagpole sticking out. She had me cornered.

"I would love the opportunity to know you better," I said facetiously, her obviously knowing I just wanted to fuck her silly.

I smiled warmly at him. Boys are still the same they were in high school, I thought.

She immediately got up and walked away, toward the baths and public rooms. I couldn't move due to my stick and waited shamefully as I tried to urge it down, watching her disappear up the stairs. I followed a few moments later.

I saw her just get into a large very warm tub, there were lots of bubbles bouncing around the water, and it was very warm, bordering on hot. She had just dunked her head in and was sitting on the side, water to her shoulders. I joined her.

"That wasn't very fair of you, was it?"

"What, you mean... getting you all excited? At least I know I was right about you."

We turn around and stare at the large room and all the other baths and bathers, checking out the other people. We are very calm and relaxed in the after-feeling of a good massage. She rubs my arm under the water, stroking it gently in a kind of intimate manner. We talk for a while. She's a chef, actually a celebrity chef from Chicago and has been here several times over the past months to film a TV special and promote her new book. Back home, she works nonstop and has a family, kids, and responsibilities.


"I love my life, my children are wonderful and I adore my husband. He's at the university, a professor. But everything is so routine. Here I feel completely free to do anything I want, anything I think of, except with those television people around; I hope there aren't any here. You married?"

I told her I wasn't any more, and was content with that status for the time being. Her husband, she recounted, didn't bang her enough, or in the ways she felt she wanted.

"He's so conservative in bed, I would be mortified to tell him the things that turn me on."

"Like what, I say?"

"Oh, you know, dirty things, things you only read about, really nasty things. I now have a public persona, at least to a few people, and I cannot ever let it be known how I feel about my body and what I think I might enjoy. Being one who works with foods and flavors, experimenting with tastes, I always think about different ways my body can be used to enhance pleasure for myself and others. Unfortunately I can't share this with the man I share my life with. But I've decided to seek other ways to satisfy those urges."

Needless to say, my mind was racing. Her stroking reached my hand and her fingers were intertwined and moving with mine. Looking at a couple of Germans, fat and fleshy in another bath a few meters away, she changed the subject.

"That couple, you think they please each other sexually?"

"Do you think they fuck often," I crudely offered.

"Yeah, I suppose that's what I mean," she replied.

"Probably not, too much bratwurst in his belly, too much insulation in hers," I commented.

"I think he likes to watch her undress," she began describing the pink fleshy couple, "then ask her to sit on his face and pee."

She watched me for a reaction. I was shocked but hearing her thoughts gave me a warmth in my loins, though covered by the roiling Jacuzzi bubbles.

"He probably likes to have her suck off his fat sausage while he sticks a few fingers in her cunt and finger fucks her."

I couldn't believe the language coming out of my princess's mouth.

"I'll bet he even gets a finger in her ass and she likes it, old hag." She was so mean, I loved hearing her viciousness.

I was getting really turned on, though we were still feeling weak. As a couple holding hands under water, talking quietly to each other, naked in this communal pool, nothing was unusual to anyone observing us. I put my mouth to her ear, drinking in the foresty scent of the massage oil on her neck and hair and whispered.

"Are those things you'd like me to do with you?"

She turned to me, hands still intertwined and said softly,

"I've got to pee, do you know where the toilet is? If you don't, I'll probably pee right here in this pool, but I'd prefer not to, just as a matter of good mantra; I mean if everyone decided to..."

"I don't know where the toilet is but I'll help you find one, besides, I've got to pee also and I'm really hot in this bath here."

We got out, draped ourselves loosely in our over fluffed towels and wandered though the rooms until we found the familiar WC sign on a small door, no gender designated. I turned the handle, it was empty; we went in. In the small room was a toilet on one wall, a sink on a side wall, and a large mirror above the sink. Both inside, I locked the door and immediately watched my cock grow in size and begin to rise horizontally.

Carla unwrapped her towel and hung it on the hook and walked to the toilet. That was the first time I had seen her backside uncovered, since we had been underwater or wrapped in towels up until now. Right above her ass crack, at the small of her back, in the center, was a tattoo of a whisk, the cooking tool.

"Is that a whisk above your ass?" I asked.

"Yeah. My husband didn't like it at first, but since it came with me, he's gotten used to it. I almost forgot I have it there. My kids think it's pretty funny when they see it. I had it done when I finished a long cooking course in France some years ago."


She had taken a seat on the toilet and looked at my stiffening cock and said, "You're not thinking about putting that thing in me here, are you? I'm having a relaxing bath experience now and want to continue."

And after a few short moments of silence I heard her tinkling away as she peed her bladder empty, the final driplets pinging against the porcelain. I've always had a thing for beautiful women on toilets and felt I should let her know. I was still standing right in front of her, about a meter away.

"Pee on my face, right now," she commanded.

She didn't make any move to wipe herself (why bother) and came out with this crazy idea. My dick was half hard and it was about to get difficult to pee, though I had to. I had to concentrate to think about getting the piss to flow, though my bladder was close to bursting.

"Come on, are you afraid, do you think it's disgusting?"

I couldn't believe this amazing creature, getting depraved more and more as our time together increased. She was nuts, but a wonderful nuts! I let it rip and a strong yellow stream hosed her face, first over her eyes, into her hair, then lower, around her nose, it washed down her gorgeous face and as it shot toward her mouth, she opened and tried to catch what she could. The arc occasionally went right in between her gaping lips, but more often than not, she caught the flow down from her hair and face. She was trying to drink as much as possible before I emptied out and the stream ended.

I loved him pissing on me. I had always wanted that experience, but being so married and basically shy had never had the opportunity. My husband would never want to hear anything like that. It was exciting and fresh and tasted great. I loved teasing Red into a hard-on which obviously he couldn't dangle around in public. I thought for a brief moment how convenient it would be to be a lesbian and just do this naturally with another woman. But I deeply loved getting fucked so I began to conjure up how we would couple.

"Wow," I gasped, "that wasn't as salty as I thought. Does that turn you on?" "I want you to promise me everything inside you."

He responded, "Where did you come up with that idea?"

"I told you I had nasty ideas. I could never even talk about that at home."

Her face still dripping, her lips trying to catch excess drops, I helped her up and we left the bathroom.

"Your dick is sticking up, I think that's so rude, watching guys in a public nude environment with hard-ons," she teased.

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