Xenon's pilgrimage to pornoland
Prelude
Public outdoor fornication had always been one of my favourite fantasies. The most suitable place to fulfil this dream, according to everything I’d read so far in various forums in the net, appeared to be Oase.
I found an alibi to get away to Frankfurt on Sunday, July 5th. Additionally I had arranged a meeting there with a pal that I had made contact with via roemerforum. He is an expert Oase aficionado and knows his ways around. Incidentally I had posted my intention to visit Oase in the travel-announcements-thread of this forum, but received no response. I started the 400km(250mile)-ride to the Frankfurt area in my old, red Volvo station wagon, brimming with anticipation. The weather promised to be warm and beautiful. The right meteorological requirement for some nice real F(u)KKing.
I arrived at Oase parking space shortly before 2 p.m. What impressed me instantly was the vast array of fake Hellenistic/Roman statues, among whom I recognised, among others, Nike of Samothrake, the goddess of victory. What a nice omen! Later I found out that the kitschy fake Roman environment continuing inside the premises bordered to tasteless. So exaggeratedly tasteless, indeed, that I started appreciating, even loving it.
I entered the holy halls, paid my dues, got a short briefing by the ladies at the counter and went down to the locker rooms.
Criticism. Lockers way too small. Showers too small, too, a strange, faint, unpleasant odour prevailed.
Anyway, out into the garden, where my pal had reserved a poolside lounger for me. Some animated conversation, window-shopping: Some nice eye-candy and fresh meat. Though the number of naked plaster goddesses was still outnumbering those made of flesh and blood, it felt like paradise. And I did not have to perform a suicide bomb attack to get there. (LOL) “Just you wait until the late shift arrives.”
My buddy rebuked me for not having arrived earlier, as I had missed something: He had witnessed four naked, young and pretty east European girls playing ball and frolicking around happily and cheerfully in the pool, a most enchanting sight to behold. One of them had been, as far as he remembered, Alexandra (Poland?) Her pretty, Mediterranean features, so my friend continued, should have entitled her to a supporting role as a beautiful Roman slave girl in films like “Ben-Hur”, “Cleopatra” or the TV-serial “Rome”.
I’m really into sunbathing in the nude and hopping naked into a pool, so that’s how I spent the time. My friend showed me round the premises, and my attention was attracted by a small, petite, lithe, dark-skinned, small-hipped girl. I made a mental note: she would fit into my scheme of prey, too. Later I found out she was Gabriella from Venezuela. Then we decided it was time for some action. My friend went off: “I’ll send you a nice girl.”
Bucolica
While I was basking in the sun, a pretty maid approached me. Auburn hair with dyed, golden streaks, bound back in a pony tail, bright, shining grey-blue eyes, pretty face, nice, natural B-cup breasts, not slender but not plump either, not an optikfuck, simply pretty.
She smiled at me: “Hi, I’m Lisa from Hungary.”
I revealed her my dream about public sex in one of the cabana chairs, one hour, bbbj, CIM included. She agreed.
So we went to find an unoccupied “Strandkorb”. Well, the sheets could have been cleaner, but we had we our towels and spread them.
The session started with tender cuddling, deep and sensual DFKing. The closer visual head to toe inspection revealed a nicely shaven mons and vulva. Her inner lips were hidden between her outer labia. That’s how Xenon likes a girl’s crotch.
In between soggy, wet, slurpy kisses the usual small-talk. Where from? Where to? Why?
Meanwhile some digital exploration showed that little Lisa had started to become wet. As Xenon’s appendix had started to grow, Lisa started with a nice, slow, tender bbbj, which I enjoyed very much, and which was followed by an extended sixty-nine.
Very long and loving cowgirl, deep and passionate doggie. When I felt approaching the point of no return I pulled out of her, she derubberized me and brought me with her soft lips and her swirling tongue to a satisfying climax. We lay for a while, completely exhausted, her mouth still filled with my cream. But suddenly Lisa left, came back with a tissue, spat my seeds into it and explained: “I had to ask the couple in the adjoining chair for a Kleenex.” Wonder how she did that with her mouth full. Seems I missed something hilarious. Very prudent and circumspect, that girl. Someone might have tread into the goo and slipped if she had spat it into the grass.
By the way: Many guests (and girls, too) are not that careful. What annoyed your humble servant were glasses left lying around in the grass, something that deemed him annoying and dangerous. I do hate the attitude “I paid for it, so it’s the service personnel’s task to look after the mess.”
Ten or fifteen minutes of AST, a smoke, some water to quench our thirst, and time was over. Obviously our session had been watched with some interest, as I found out later. Well, that had been my intention. Thank you, Lisa, for fulfilling the old fart’s dream.
Proudly yours truly walked hand in hand with little Lisa across the lawn, past the pool into the labyrinthine, dimly-lit building to the safe-deposit boxes vis-à-vis the bar, she received her well-deserved three club-units, kiss, kiss, hug, hug, bye, bye.
Meanwhile my pal had had an obviously enjoyable session with a cute Brazilian girl who calls herself Maria. Adorable face, nice figure, dyed reddish hair.
Back to the poolside-deckchairs for a bit of basking in the pleasantly mild evening sun and watching a blond girl swallowing a lucky guy’s schwanz in a “Strandkorb”. Dinner time.
We queued up, directly before me an interesting blonde, who, as I later found out, was famous-infamous Hannah; I should have made a date with her, as being expertly and perfectly deep-throated is on my still-to-do-agenda. Anyway… Further down the queue Lisa and her friends, whispering and giggling, blowing friendly kisses at me. Blowing kisses back.
Fodder: Quite an acceptable choice of salads (rice, potatoes, tomatoes, lettuce etc), various grilled sausages, grilled pork.
Dusk was slowly falling. High time for session # 2. Who should I choose? Hannah? Michelle? What about the slender, interesting, heavily tattooed young lady with the short dark hair – later I found out her name, Lana from Germany. Or the elusive, dark little elf?
Scherzo
I had just had passed the bar when I was embraced by a dark-skinned, soft, silken, slender arm, and a warm voice cooed at me: “Shall we go to a room?” Shark attack.
Shark attacks are some sort of a challenge. Within a fraction of a second you have to decide whether to refuse or accept. Well, the optikfuck that was testing my decision-making abilities fitted into my scheme, though I would have preferred to be the predator, not the prey:
I was looking into dark, big, mysterious eyes in a nearly triangular face with high cheekbones, a tiny, golden barbell in the right side of her somewhat broad but small nose, a mouth with full, sensuous lips, dark, curly hair tied back, dark, velvety skin, a small, very petite frame with small hips, tiny buttocks and long legs. An exotic beauty. From behind she could have been the shy, elusive, little dark fawn from little Venice (literal translation of Venezuela) that had cast a spell on me. In contrast to her, this slender and lithe beauty sported two tiny artificially-enhanced silicone hemispheres with constantly and proudly erect nipples.
“Hi, my name is Emmanuelle.”
Emmanuelle Arsan and her novel crossed my mind, which I blushingly had read a long time ago in my late adolescence and I thought to myself: well, little black nymph, if you want to emulate Miss Arsan, then you’ve set yourself demanding goals.
A little bit of small talk at the bar, then I could persuade her to the Kino. Before the contract was sealed, a little test had to be passed.
“Do you kiss?” “Sure.” “Show me.” She opened her mouth, flashed two rows of regular, unbelievably white teeth at me – an enticing contrast to her dark complexion – and then our lips met, and her long, snake-like tongue darted demandingly into the depths of my oral cavern. Our tongues entwined in the dance of lust. Test passed.
We started smooching wildly and exchanging lewd kisses like two teenagers in the movies, with the difference that both of us were stark naked.
Her small hand found her way down to little Xenon, and to her tender caresses he reacted with joyful growth. So I thought I’ll do likewise, and my left digit travelled down her flat, firm stomach, over her smooth, perfectly-shaven mound down to her nether lips. Somewhere between her folds I found her little pearl. She reacted at once with sensual sighs. Oops, what porn actress have I come across here?
She laid back, spread her legs as widely as possible, arched her back, wetted her upper lip with her rosy tongue and, while looking at me through half-closed lids and long eye-lashes, little, lustful sighs escaped her throat while my finger was caressing her centre of lust tenderly though eagerly. Blimey, this little porn queen doesn’t leave out any cliché.
Sucking her big, proud nipples triggered more little lustful moans. Good job, little actress.
She had become wet. She took my hand, put it to her sweet, beautiful face, inserted my finger dripping with her excitement into her sensual mouth and started sucking while looking at me through the curtains of her long eye-lashes. Oscar for the leading part in this porn flick.
The whole thing was a bit too fast for my taste. I stopped my administrations. “Where are you from?” “I’m from Guadeloupe.” Not exactly, her parents are from the Caribbean, she was born in France. “Tois, tu es née en France?” “Tu parle Francais?” “Un tout p’tit peu.. Ton age?” “J’ai vingt sept ans.””Mois j’ais …” And then we were talking alternatively in French and German about this and that, about la France and the queen of all cities, and the little, tender porn queen from the Caribbean became muy simpatico to polyglot Xenon.
I succumbed to her pleadings and went to a room with her. I’d have preferred to fuck this heavenly creature in public, but she obviously wasn’t much into that sort of thing. Or I should have insisted more stubbornly.
I think the nicely-mirrored rooms in Oase are too dark. What good are mirrors, if you hardly see anything? And it was too hot in there. Anyway, Emmanuelle started blowing me. Only average. Hand at the root of my erection, so that she could control the depth. Mademoiselle, a bit deeper and fewer hand-administrations would have been welcome.
Positive, though, her method of applying the rubber. Condom into her mouth, and then her lush lips unrolled it over little Xenon. Well done, fille du Caraibe. May I ask my little princess for a ride?
And then she inserted me. God, was she tight. She rode me, long, passionately, I controlled her movements with my hands on her tiny haunches, and on every, deep in-stroke a little, high-pitched scream escaped her lips. Emmanuelle and Xenon in pornoland.
Time for the doggie. The little Caribbean princess knelt on all fours and Xenon shoved into her. By Jove, she really was tight. The sight of my erection disappearing between her tiny buttocks was awesome. Her strong, slender back, her tiny waist, her firm and small behind: Such a delight. Sweat was running down my face, and her velvety skin had become wet and slippery, too. While pumping slowly but deeply into her, my right digit kept manipulating her little nodule.
“Das ist so geil,” she moaned. Gotcha, little porn actress. If you really had been about to come, you would not have used German. “Je suis si lubrique” might have been the words I’d have accepted.
She collapses, presses her legs together, me on top of her. “Je viens, je viens, ne cesse pas, mon dieu, ne cesse pas” she screams. Little black girl from the Leeward Islands, you are the perfect actress. My right hand is wet, though, her crotch is soaking.
I pull out of her, she removes the rubber. The CIM is for both of us more or less routine.
We are lying in each other’s arms, wet, sweating, panting.
“Don’t expect such a performance next time you book me. I don’t know why. You simply turned me on tonight. You are my last customer. I’ll be going home.”
“Oh, sweet and beautiful fille des Antilles, there will be no next time. It will take at least a year till I’ll find an alibi to escape to pornoland again. Did you really come? How often? Three times? Four times?”
“Sit tu es un home tois tu le sais.” “If you are a man you know.” What sibyllinic response. Or did she say “If you were a man, you’d know”?
At the safe-deposit boxes she gets her well-earned remuneration. Kiss, kiss, hug, hug, bye, bye. Thirst! Water!! Showers!!!
I’ll never know what had really happened. What had been method acting, what reality? Little, slender, tiny, black, beautiful nymph from the islands under the sun and the wind, déesse du Caraibe, for an hour you were the sunshine in my drab life, you gave me the best and hottest fuck of my life. I don’t care what was fake and what was genuine passion. Tu etais la première négresse dans ma vie. I’ll covet these memories forever. But you, goddess of the Caribbean, will have forgotten me by now.
Nocturno
I met my buddy again, we relaxed in the romantically lit garden and shared our experiences. When it became chilly, we retired to the bar, where we met Michelle and had a witty conversation. Not only is this Swiss gal pretty and (according to hearsay) an expert fellatrix, but also humorous, quick-witted and intelligent.
Sitting on a sofa in the room with the pole, a small, very young Romanian lass approached us, squeezed herself in between us, spread her legs widely, rubbed her smooth vulva and offered a sandwich. We declined politely, because of obvious reasons, whereupon the damsel from Transylvania left sulkingly.
Suddenly lights flashed, a pretty little thing gracefully crossed the room on her high stilettos and proved her flexibility, litheness and erotic talents dancing at the pole. To the song “From Sarah with Love” she performed convincingly, allowing deep insights between her widely-spread thighs. Forgiven, that one of your stilettos escaped and crashed to the floor. You retrieved it elegantly. Thank you, little Ina from the lands beyond the forests, for the lovely performance. A fitting end to a memorable day.
Time to check out. One a.m. One of the most memorable days in my life has come to an end.
Your humble servant wants to emphasize that this report contains the truth, nothing but the plain truth. And please excuse the author's silly penchant for alliterations.
X_U
PS.: What about your experiences with Emmanuelle?
PPS.: Accommodation (can be googled): “Alte Brücke” in Ober-Erlenbach, family business, acceptable prices, solid cuisine, idyllic beer garden. Only about a mile from Oase. Recommended. Drawback: Personnel probably doesn’t speak English. Give it a try.