[FM] Behind the Flower Store…

First off, a little about me. My name is Anastasia, I’m 19 and I am studying Fashion Design Management. Originally I’m from Russia, but I studied in Germany, Singapore and London – each for a year. Within this year I’ve made a few trips across Europe and Asia.

This story takes place in Paris, in early spring of 2018. I decided to write this story because I really wanted to share it, but I don’t really want to talk with any friends about it. If you read it: Heh, perv! :P

_____________________

It was relatively cold, around 10°C, but Paris is one beautiful city if I’ve ever seen one. The Eiffel Tower, probably *the best known* landmark in all of Europe, the Symbol of Paris. I visited the Louvre, and Sacré-Coeur. I even tried to learn a few words of french, but that never got too far!

But one thing got me even more interested then those big landmarks: the small cafés and boutiques all around the city, and one particular flower store.

The store was small, located in a house with an old looking facade, but mostly modern within. I come across this store just a few minutes before it was closing – the owner makes a break between 2:30pm to 3:30pm, and I arrived there just a few minutes before. You have to know, I’m in love with flowers. There’s no better present then flowers, and my whole room is filled with them, too.

So, the owner of the store was just outside, changing the sign from ‘Ouvert’ to ‘Fermé’. A guy in his early fifties I’d guess, a little on the rounder side, but well-dressed, and a little grey in his beard. The hair on his head was short, his beard covered most of his chin. I couldn’t help but ask him if he’d have a second, to make a photo of me, in front of his beautiful store.

He smiled, and said he could never say no to such a cute accent – I was turning red, because I actually hate my accent when I talk english. I gave him my phone, and he took a few pictures of me, one or two were really good, something I could definitely show at home. The owner himself was a little flirtatious, he told me to not post them, because I might take away the beauty of his flowers, and stuff like that, but without sounding as slimy as I do while I try to recap it.

Instead of closing up the store he asked me inside, as we had a short talk about his store, the flowers, and Paris in general. I didn’t want to take away his break, but he said it was okay, he’d enjoy talking with me in his break. He even made a comment about my accent again, and how he likes the sight of me blushing.

We were in his back office, drinking a tea together, and having a nice time. A good talk about anything, really, he was asking a lot about me. At first I was oblivious about his flirting, but after a while I had fun flirting back. He had something not many men have, and I still to this day don’t know how to describe it. He just was… Perfect, for the moment.

After about three quarters of an hour I had to go. I had to take a class, and would be late if I stayed longer. He gave me a orange Dahlia as I left, and thanked me for the pleasant talk.

I went there again, the next day. He was smiling as he saw me, and kissed me on both cheeks. Again, I turned red.

I went there again, for the whole week.

On day eight I asked him again, to take a picture of me infront of the newly arriving flowers. He gladly took a photo, and we went inside again. But this time he didn’t take me into his office, we went into the little greenhouse. Even though it was warm in there I didn’t take out my coat, because I was insecure about the thing I wanted to do.

It was my last week in Paris, and I wanted to use it for good. “*Tu me dragues?*” was the first thing he asked me after I took his hands, and asked him if he likes me. I smiled, and said “Yes, I want to.” and kneeled down infront of him. He didn’t stop me, even after my fingers began to nestle around on his pants.

He was still soft as I opened up his pants, allready quite big – not that I have the biggest collection in my head, but still – and veiny. The hair around his stomach and balls was allready grey, and his skin was a little darker around his cock. My nearly white fingers were a nice contrast against it, at least that’s what he told me afterwards.

I slide my hand up his length, my fingers barely meeting around it. My right hand – I’m lefthanded – cups his balls, and slightly massages them. After a few seconds of stroking and massaging I guide it to my mouth, sliding my tongue over the tip. At first it’s a little bitter, and a few spots of creamy, white stuff are gone within a few licks. After that it was way better to suck on. He wasn’t saying anything, just looking down at me.

The next time I was looking up I’ve allready tasted his precum, and didn’t even realize his moaning and how he held my head. My left hand was still at the base of his shaft, and hitting my lips every few strokes. My tongue was swirling around the underside of his cock, and I was slurping more then a little.

I could feel his balls tense up before he said anything. I couldn’t understand it, it was french, and way to fast for me to really comprehend what he was saying – and then he exploded. His balls pulled together, and a first thick, creamy shot hit the back of my mouth and made me gag a little. He held me in place for the first three big bursts, with which I had problems swallowing, until he let go of my head. Instantly I pulled my head back, trying to catch some air, and a last, slightly smaller spurt shot out of his glans, over my nose, my left eye and my forehead.

A little giggle followed, and a long moan by him. His heart was racing, I could feel it on the vein of his cock, while he was slowly getting soft again. I stood up, pulled a handkerchief out of my pocket, and only said: “Tomorrow, same time?” before I had to go to class…

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/8o7f1g/fm_behind_the_flower_store