Not so Sexy Switzerland

In June of this year I ventured to Switzerland. Whilst I was there my base was Aarau, a small town roughly 100 kilometers from Zurich. I was fortunate to stay with a friend in a pretty and comfortable apartment. The rooms were large and spacious, the internet fast and in English. The balcony was huge and full of strange flora and fauna, not to mention an overflowing ash tray. I stayed with a Swiss-German guy named Andreas. Andy is not from this planet. His brain entertains notions of astral travel, Kabahilism, long fasts that clean out the body ridding it of bacterias, stale foods and the residues of drugs and late night abuses. Andy resembles an elf in more ways than one. He is tall, gangily, he has round light eyes like watery emeralds and the only way I can describe how he felt is to say ‘paper skin’, no fat. Skin too close to the muscle. At 6 ft he bearly weighed 60 kilograms. If I say “lurch” I believe I can conjure an adequate image. Andy’s chin was low and his bottom lip thin and puckered. He was not beautiful or ugly- probably closer to the ugly side.

When I was in Aarau I sensed two things about the way he was received in his Swiss town. He was respected due to his high level of intelligence, and I think, women were weary of him due to the fact he came across as- sexually depraved.

Allow me to share with you a dirty little tale. On the final night of my stay in Switzerland Andy brought some cocaine. We then went to his bedroom and he fingered me. It was good , long and hard, the way I liked it so very much. . . And he said to me: “There is something in here. . ."
“What? A lump or something?”
“No. This”.
Andy then drew up a sharp and plastic remnant of a tampon covering.

The night before we snorted lines and lines of fresh Swiss coke and he took some photos of me. He transformed a section of his apartment into a mini studio. In another life, he had been a photographer as he had informed me. As he prepared his camera and utensils, finding old props, hats, chains, ropes, collars and feathers I went into the bathroom. I plucked my eyebrows shaved my pubic hair, applied make up and adjusted my fringe. I put on a pair of fish net tights, flesh coloured, and remaind bare breasted- bar my Ohm.
The photography session was pleasant. Andy corded the rope around my abdomenon, I adjusted myself into all kinds of softly erotic positions. For instance, I would kneel clutch my left breast and tilt my head to the side whilst starring into the beams. For hours we did this. I was adorned in chains, I had water sprayed over me, and was asked to (silently) scream with a thick collar around my neck. Andy’s hard on genuinely made no difference to me. I think he believed it was my sub-conscience female instinct to “turn him on”, but the truth was, I wanted free and and air brushed erotic photos of myself. I noticed it their though, small and pointy while he snapped photos of my bare breasts and mocking cunt. The french music kept me in such good and content spirits. We stopped for a cigarette and then returned.

After the session was complete, and we were observing the images on photo shop, Andy would adjust certain pictures, making my teeth and eyes whiter, making the lighting more errie, he even elongated my fangs in one picture. It was all so cute to an amature like myself. He came to one picture where my legs were crossed. He started to zoom.
“You can’t see it Andy”
“Yes you can. See that’s the photo that says you want a dick”
“Yes, but not yours.”
“I want to fuck you”.
I was getting worried around this point. I really did not want to “fuck” Andy. Physically his long weasely body did nothing for me, my full thighs could snap his neck in-fact. As I walked out of the room he grabbed me and kept trying to kiss me.
“No Andy, seriously. . .”
He pulled me over to the bed , held me down by my arms onto the materess and pulled my night dress down. He hungrily devoured my breast making loud sucking noises as though he were attempting to swallow it. He then started moving up to my mouth. By this point I actually was starting to moisten and enter a creamy state of sexual willingnss. Whilst I wasn’t attracted to Andy, I do like a man that takes charge! He pushed my thighs open and started violently fingering me- the noises it made turned us both on more and I felt myself wanting his pointy and eager penis inside me. . .
“Ok. . . you can fuck me. . .”
I breathed. . .
“No , I can’t. . .”
He said. He slowed down. He removed his hands from my vagina and began sitting on the bed.
“This isn’t who I am. I don’t lose control.”
I guess the situation worked out best.

Not so Sexy Switzerland


Merrylands, Australia

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