tagLesbian SexThe Tour Guide

The Tour Guide


I kissed my husband good bye as he left the hotel lobby to attend his two day lecture. I looked at my watch and had about an hour before the guide came to meet me for my half day tour of this beautiful, eastern European city.

"Why do the showers always work differently, in hotel rooms?" I thought, as I tried to make the water come out. Suddenly a stream of cold water shot from a hidden spout directly into my vaginal area. I jumped, but the icy wetness had already shocked my senses. Finally I managed to make it work and quickly showered.

I dried myself and applied sunscreen to my body. My skin was very smooth and always has been, especially my face. It easily took 15 years off my looks and instead of people thinking I was the 58 years that I really was many thought I could pass for 45.

Probably the daily workouts, which have kept my buttocks tight, my tummy flat and my breasts firm added to the deception. And, of course the silicone implants, which took me to a firm D cup with a 91 cm (36 inch) circumference, still make many men and some women, and stare.

I quickly dressed in a white blouse and jeans and after checking out the mirror hurried downstairs to meet my guide in the lobby. I have been in Muslim countries before, but was still a little shocked when a woman, dressed in a hijab (head scarf) approached me. "You must be Mrs. Douglas?" she asked, in broken, but perfectly annunciated English.

I acknowledged and she introduced herself as Aatifa, my local guide. To my surprise we hit it off well. She was extremely knowledgeable and very friendly. I enjoyed her sense of humour and the way she explained things.

She was only 46 and as most people seem to do, refused to believe that I was more than 50. Although she was the mother of three children she seemed to have kept herself in shape. She talked about her family and her husband. Her opinion of him was the same as most women, married for 20+ years. It was an arranged marriage and although he never abused her there was certainly no love lost in the relationship.

We laughed as we chatted and at one point I asked her why so many women in her country walk arm in arm along the streets. She explained it was a custom and without warning she slipped her arm through mine and held me tight as we continued walking. "See," she said. "Now you are one of us."

"I don't think so," I replied, looking at her hijab.

"Ahh," she said. "We can fix that." She paused a moment and looked at her watch. "Our tour is nearly over and I have to go home to feed my youngest child, but you may join me and have some lunch and you can try on a hijab."

I smiled, at first prepared to decline the offer but it seemed like it might be fun so I agreed. She explained that it was not far and we hopped on a city bus and in a matter of minutes we stood before a typical, white flat.

Inside was the home of a family of five. Toys were everywhere and kids were noisy. She introduced me to a girl of about 14. Her daughter and the babysitter. Her son of two and came running to his mother. Her other son was outside playing. She spoke to the daughter in the local language and a moment later she was gone.

"She will be back shortly to look after Ali, when we return to your hotel." I explained that it was not necessary for her to see me back, but she insisted. As she put it, "You are a guest in my country."

I sat on a couch and she on a chair and I was shocked when Ali, her two year old came up to her and she shamelessly lifted the bodice of her hijab to reveal her large, brown breast. She held it and Ali stepped up to suckle it. I dared not stare, but found I could not look anywhere else.

It has been a long time since I breastfed my sons and always in the privacy of a closed room. Sure, I have seen people in malls and such, breastfeeding, but always from a distance and always discreet. This was quite a shock as the child sucked heavily from his mother's milk source.

Her breast was extremely large and seemed even more so in contrast to her slender waste. She broke the silence. "You are hungry, my child," she said, at the same time removing the remainder of the garment and feeding him her other teat. I was now staring at both her large, naked breasts while her child hungrily sucked.

"This makes you uncomfortable?" she asked. I was somewhat stunned and I guess it showed. "I am sorry," she replied.

"No, no," I stuttered. "Not at all. I am not used to seeing this, that's all." I paused awkwardly and stupidly said, "You... you have beautiful breasts."

She smiled at my inappropriate comment and accepted it as a compliment. She thanked me and when Ali was finished she used her hand to wipe off the excess milk, which was still lactating from her golden brown nipples. She picked up her son and placed him in a playpen.

"Now you must try on a hijab," she said and stood, replacing hers back into place. I followed her to the bedroom and she took a number of different cloths from the cupboard. I had always assumed a hijab was similar to a scarf, but these were sewn into actual garments.

We decided on a colour and I slipped it over my head. My hair was hidden like a nun and Aatifa told me how beautiful I looked. She told me to remove my blouse, as the hijab replaced all of my upper body clothes. Hesitatingly I did as I was told.

"What size you are?" She asked, pointing to the built in brassiere. I told her 36D and she said that was the same as her so it should fit nicely. Standing behind me she unclasped my bra and as it fell to the floor I felt my breasts hang free. She showed me the cups of the hijab and helped me fit into them. She fastened the clasps and I moved it slightly to make it comfortable.

She stood back and smiled approvingly. I looked in the mirror and enjoyed what I saw. The loose fitting garment accentuated my breasts and brought all the attention to my face. I told her I liked it.

"Come, come," she said, taking my arm. She led me to the living room where her daughter had just returned. The young girl smiled and said it suited me. I was a little embarrassed and thanked her. Aatifa spoke to her daughter in her native language and turned to me. "We go now," she said.

"Go, where?" I asked.

"To lunch and finish the tour." I was not aware we were having lunch, but as I had no other plans I was up for the treat. She stepped to the bedroom and showed that she had put my blouse and bra in her purse.

"I can't go like this," I protested, but she would have none of it and before I knew it we were out the door and on a streetcar. I was nervous as people stared, but decide there was nothing I could do so I would simply ignore them.

After an enjoyable lunch we walked to my hotel. I suggested she come up and I would return the hijab. She agreed and followed me through the door. Thankfully the front desk clerk did not recognize me and we quickly stepped onto the elevator.

Once in the sanctity of my own room I relaxed, looked at Aatifa and we laughed as would two school girls who had gotten away with stealing a cookie. I asked Aatifa to unclasp my bra, as the hooks on the hijab were different from ours.

"You also have beautiful breasts," she said, as I felt the undergarment part of the hijab come loose. I stared at her and thanked her. It was an awkward moment as we stood in silence staring at each other.

Suddenly, without notice and to my great surprise, I felt Aatifa's hand on my now uncovered breast. She squeezed softly, pinching the nipple. I stood there staring into her large eyes and she moved forward placing a kiss on my lips. It happened so fast and without warning that I did not resist and was not sure I would have if I had been given more time.

Her lips were large and soft and I could feel her tongue push against mine. I slowly parted my lips and let her tongue enter. She explored the inside of my mouth as she pressed her face harder against mine. Her hand softly massaged my breast and I twitched when she gently pinched my nipple.

My hands involuntarily moved around her back and I held her. She looked at me and smiled and reached her hand to remove the hijab over my head.

Suddenly I was standing nude from the waist up before a stranger who hours ago I had only met for the first time.

She sensed my apprehension. "You are exquisite," she said, a smile on her lips and she kissed me again. She stopped and stared at me and reached behind herself to unclasp her bra. A moment later she was lifting her hijab over her head and let it fall to the floor.

I stared in awe at the beauty of her face, now framed only by her long, wavy black hair, previously hidden from my view by her hijab. I could not help but stare at her breasts, which hung perfectly. "Do you want to feed from them?" she asked. I was a little stunned, but realized English was not her first language. She cupped her hand under her left breast and held it out for me.

I was reluctant to move but she placed her other hand on the back of my head. She moved me closer and I was staring at her brown, perky nipple.

"Drink my milk," she ordered and I found myself almost involuntarily opening my mouth.

She pushed her nipple between my lips and I began to suck. It was not long before I tasted her nourishment. She pulled out and squeezed her areolas. Milk squirted onto my face and I opened my mouth. I felt the watery, nearly tasteless liquid run down my face and opened my mouth further. I drank it and pushed my face forward, hungrily sucking at her nectar.

My senses were so heightened I could barely feel her unclasping the button of my jeans and sliding her hand down, inside my panties. She touched my freshly waxed womanhood and paused. A moment later I quivered as she massaged my most precious area.

My mouth continued to suck on her breast, even as she guided me to the bd. Somehow my jeans and panties had come off and I was lying on my back with her breast in my mouth and her hand working my vagina.

"You like to be my baby?" she asked. I looked up into her dark brown eyes and nodded. She removed her breast and held the other one over my mouth. She squeezed it and the milk shot onto my face. "Drink it all," she ordered and again my mouth opened wide to accept her food.

I felt her finger enter my opening, quickly followed by a second. I wanted to stop her, as I was close to reaching a climax, but the feeling was so good I dared not. It was too late regardless of what I wanted, for I felt my stomach tighten and my thigh and groin muscles spasm. She knew what was happening and pushed her breast deeper into my mouth. She held me like a baby as I allowed my orgasm to flow throughout me.

Her breast muffled my scream, but I continued to suck hungrily. Finally my body relaxed and I felt her move her face to mine and kiss me softly. "Was that good?" she asked.

I smiled at her. "It was wonderful," I replied."

I looked down and saw she was still wearing her skirt. I unbuttoned it and slid the zipper down, pushing the garment onto the floor. I was surprised that she was not wearing underwear and when my head reached her womanhood I felt a wetness suggesting she was ready to explode.

She moaned slightly as I came in contact with her and I worked her opening. "Fuck me," she commanded when my finger entered her and I rapidly moved my hand back and forth. I sucked her lactating tits hungrily, but wanted more. I began to move my mouth along her tummy until I felt the soft hair of her pubic area.

Using my tongue I worked feverishly to excite her and my actions were rewarded, because she began to squirm. She screamed when my tongue probed her clit and I sucked it hard to increase her excitement. It tasted so sweet that I wanted more. I was quickly rewarded with mouthful after mouthful of hot, juicy liquid, as her muscles tightened and her climax topped.

It seemed to last forever and finally she slumped, not releasing her grip on my hair. I heard her moan 'more' and continued to lick her womanhood. She began to move in a way the brought us to a sixty-nine position and a moment later I felt her eating me.

It was an unbelievable feeling as I allowed my tongue to explore her vagina as well as her anus. I licked and ate and felt her do the same to me. I was close once again and knew she was as well. The timing was perfect and we erupted together. I felt my love juice shoot into her mouth and at the same time swallowed every drop from her. We finally relaxed, lying on a cum-soaked bed.

We turned and kissed, each tasting our own cum mixed with saliva. She smiled, as she stared deep into my eyes. "You are beautiful," she said. "I have not made love like this in many years,"

I smiled and kissed her again. We held each other for at least 30 minutes, slowly caressing, yet continuing to hug. Finally she stood and dressed.

I watched from the bed, too exhausted to get up. We exchanged email addresses and hugged one last time before she walked out from the room.

I stepped onto the balcony, covered only in a towel and waited. She looked up and we waived to each other. I watched her disappear in the distance and returned to my bed. I could still taste her milk on my face mingled with her love juice. I began to feel myself and soon neared another climax.

I think I masturbated 4 times that afternoon and evening but none of my orgasms matched the ones she had given me.

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by Anonymous

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by tied2605/27/18


I love a good BDSM lesbian story with breastfeeding. Thank you!

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