Arlanda Airport, Stockholm. You must walk for miles to reach any destination. It gets especially inconvenient when you finally find your bag among hundreds of similar ones. I've heard airports in London or NYC were even worse, but they are yet for me to discover. I've been to Arlanda for a few times already and always had problems. I wish my boyfriend was with me to help me out. Oh, well, I've just dumped him. I had my reasons to do so, and these reasons were strong enough to dump him two days before I came here as a correspondent from a tennis tournament. Fine... Then... Where to sleep?
I'm twenty. It's not old enough to get legally drunk in the US, but it should be proper to realize internet partner researches are risky. Especially, when you have only two days to talk to him before the blind date. Azem's perfect English spelling was what convinced me to his person and good intentions. I put attention to such details. Journalist's perversion. The other thing made me hope we'd get on well for these few days was we were both foreigners in the city full of hedonistic, overrated in bed Swedish guys and beautiful, easy, but cold Swedish women. Azem was Albanian, and me, oh, well...
"Did you order espresso con panna?" a waitress asked an older man sitting at the table of posh-looking cafe.
I remember once I had there the most expensive coffee of my life. In my country I could buy a book for studies with that cash. Among other dressed-up people sitting over there, one black-haired guy in his mid-thirties caught my attention.
"Did you order frappucino with caramel?" the same waitress rushed around.
The object of my observation stuck his absent sight in one point. I knew he left work for a short time having to go back, while my plane was thirty minutes delayed due to weather conditions. Okay, breath in.
"Did you order a girl from Poland?" I cooed for everyone to hear. Silence that collapsed right after was probably the biggest in Arlanda's history.
Azem slowly moved his eyes from my high black boots, through my half-opened black leather coat with my hands in its pocket, a jeans mini skirt lurking out, up through my breasts almost helping the coat buttons explode, to my round, smiling face and black tied-up hair. Despite I value compliments on my intelligence the most, the first opinions I usually hear are, "You're so fuckable." I cross such guys out immediately. Azem didn't say anything. After he had measured me up and down, he stood up, so I could see he's quite taller than me. No wonder, that's just me being 157 cm (5'2''). Finally he couldn't help a grin.
"Yes, I did. How much does she cost?"
"Your heart." I answered without thinking.
"Uh-huh, she's expensive, init?" he chuckled embarrassed.
I guessed from the first view he enjoyed the easy life in Stockholm without redundant moral doubts. He filled in his online date profile he was a movie director, but I googled for the details and found out he was a porn movie director. I offered a helping hand in writing screenplays with my author's experience. Soon we found a common ground to start from. I cried on his shoulder (MSN window in this case) about my ex being a tool and that I would need a roof over my beautiful hairstyle when I arrive in Sweden. I told him things I should tell a female friend; thing is, other girls refrain from being friends with me. And once I thought only men were scared of girls with charisma.
"Shall we go?" Azem pointed on his watch and turned toward the exit. However, his eyes were stuck in my little figure for the longest time possible.
I didn't move. He turned around, again.
"You won't go? You want a coffee first?"
"My bag. I thought you'd find it cool to carry."
"Ah, yes..." he stammered and grabbed my luggage. "It's your fault anyway, and you know it. Your eyes are drugs."
Few minutes later, at the corridor, our sights crossed their ways. I swear his dark brown eyes were magnetic as well. We discussed casual stuff on the route to his car, such as which paper I wrote for or how his business was going. Apparently he was also into casino business. Not exactly the man of my dreams; I wanted my lover to be a doctor or a lawyer, or an architect...
I am not really into cars to know the brands, but I could estimate Azem's was new and expensive. And in my favorite black. I was just going to throw in a merry comment like, "I am car-sick but I bet it'd be a very comfortable drive," when Azem suddenly pulled my hand. He grabbed my purse and slapped me on the face so hard I almost fell on the ground. Shock.
"What do you think you came here for, bitch?"
I couldn't answer. I couldn't move my jaw.
"Wave goodbye to your passport and get into the car!"
He opened the door and pushed me inside on the back seat. I slowly started to gather everything that happened in the last few seconds. Azem was hiding my personal belongings. Then he entered the back door, to sit next to me. I saw he was nervous; and I was so much scared... Tears run down my face as he handcuffed my hands behind my back. I have been raped in the past... I... I... begged, "Please, don't hurt me... You... said I was a special girl... Please, you can't treat me..."
He avoided looking at my face all the time. I still wept. I saw he's battling his thoughts, before he whispered,
"Natalia, why are you doing this to me?"
Azem bent over me as I leaned my back on the door. He tried to dry my eyes. He was shaking. Our lips met to synchronize in a delicate musk. His hot breath made me shiver. Sexual tension filled the car and electricity surged in every kiss we shared. As weird as it was in my situation, I wanted him to own me tied and to own me in that very moment...
"Me qi, shpirti..." ("Fuck me, darling" - in Albanian) I demanded with dreamy voice.
"What? How? Wh...?" My partner couldn't prevent laughter. "How do you know such words?"
"Google," I giggled.
Azem unbuttoned my coat like a real expert and spread my legs, reaching under my mini skirt. His hand wandering on my thighs brought the butterflies to my stomach. I loved the way he kissed me; no unnecessary saliva, despite our tongues were dancing without splitting for several minutes. My breath shortened. I was ready. I moaned as I felt his fingers putting my thong aside and reaching my vagina's lips. He pulled me close to his body. I bet he already wanted to come... The more I appreciate devotion he put in the whole warm-up. His fingers moved back and forth before entering my lower lips. A lot of juice squirted out. I felt him collecting most of it and smearing on my thighs and well-shaved pussy. It was lube enough to enter already two fingers inside. I closed my eyes... I moaned with the pace of fingering.
"Damn, you have such a tight pussy; my big dick will spoil you," Azem kissed me and unzipped his trousers.
What I saw underneath was *huge* indeed. Doubts entered my little feminine brain, if I could handle it. Azem helped me get on my knees, and he whispered, "Come on baby, I want to see your sexy lips on it." He massaged with the dick my cheek red from a slap. I smiled up to him. The tool I had to play with was long and thick. First I tried to lick it all around on lube purpose. Azem moved it for me, since I couldn't use hands. It always tried to escape up, so erected it was. Finally I caught a tip with my "sexy lips." I hit it with my tongue inside in a very fast pace. Then I equally quickly made circles. I noticed Azem unintentionally moved his pelvis and exhaled deeply. With every movement of his I received his penis deeper and deeper. Soon I was unable to manipulate my tongue the way I wished, because my mouth was full. I could only suck and move my head. Azem corrected his position, so I kneeled directly in front of him.
"Look at my face, Nati."
He took my head in his hands and moved it back and forth, not really thinking of something trivial like a mouth limit. A tip of the dick hit my throat time and again. I barely could keep lips opened for so long. I wanted to shout, but I was blocked. I could only purr. When Azem felt like cumming, he took it out, so I could find short relief. Wow, it was a hot ride. He slapped my tongue with a massive penis. We smiled at each other.
Azem picked me up on him. There was a small problem, since I still had a coat on me and anyway, there was not much space in the car, but we succeed. He tried to enter me carefully, and not the full size, to not hurt me. I didn't feel comfortable at the beginning. Well, it *did* hurt me, and despite being on the top, I couldn't control anything. What mattered to me, I could be close to that sexy face and the eyes which desired me. I started to bounce. Azem kept one hand around my waist and pressed on my breasts with the other. "I swear, first thing I do when we get home, I get to these boobies and suck them for hours," he promised.
That thought fired him up. He entered me roughly and deeply. I shouted with every poke. He shouted too. Watching my lover so excited drove me crazy. He put his hand on my hips and watched how his long, thick and red cock tore my little thing apart. My eyes were shining, my cheeks got rosy, and I screamed out. The car must have looked like in a lunapark from the outside. Geez, in that limited space I was bouncing like crazy. When Azem pressed me on him to the full length, I felt like lava spreading all over me. I got fever in one second. Public place, who cares; I screamed my throat out. Azem took his dick out in the last second. Explosion shoot up and landed on my shirt. I fell on his chest, powerless.
"I bought this shirt for half of my salary; it's a brand one..." I said after a couple of minutes.
Azem, not stopping to run fingers through my hair, replied, "That suit you're laying and leaving sperm marks on, I didn't get it for free either."
He didn't free me from handcuffs but walked me to the front seat. He took the driver's place. Suddenly we noticed a policeman coming over and asking us for the noises and our documents.
"It's a long story, but I will tell you in brief, " I put my head out of the window. "First I dumped my boyfriend who lived in Stockholm, but I had already tickets bought and press accreditation for the tournament guaranteed, so I met this young man on the internet date site and decided to come anyway. Would you believe, he did make me come... More than I gave him credits for. " I winked. "Although he tried to kidnap me at the beginning and sell to a bordello, we did find a common language, which was international language of sex."
"Are you wearing handcuffs?" the policeman smiled.
" Of course! If you hadn't known guys with handcuffs were sexy, you would've never become a policeman! Do you agree or am I right?"
We were free to go.
"You, woman, are crazy," Azem nodded as he pushed on the gas.
"This is what happens to us, writers. When we tell the real stories, nobody believes, and when we walk out of our skins to describe the fiction, readers think it's based on self-experience. It was my nightmare at school competitions."
Azem only shook his head in disbelief and we left Arlanda.
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