Sex Encounter Inside The Gas Station In Munich Germany
After seeing my sons, I quickly left Munich at 4:30 p.m., traveled to Frankfurt on I-95, and arrived at the Autobahn 8 heading east at precisely midnight. I then drove to Bavaria. The crazy part was that it rained for the whole of the route with Elite Munich Hookers, but I handled the police with grace and there wasn’t much traffic before or beyond Berlin as I easily navigated through both Saxony. But I would have to stop again, and this time I would be in Stuttgart, which is a little under an hour’s drive from my Hamburg home.
I pulled up, inserted the pump into my tank, and entered this off-brand station that appeared to be halfway closed, but the prices on the sign were lit and appeared to be the lowest.
“Girl, Hansis needs to be here. I don’t know where the fuck he is. “He is my savior, and I must grab my children immediately,” Ingrid exclaimed, typing her name correctly on the name tag.
With her gorgeous dark skin, updo, and a gleaming gold tooth on a dog, the small, meaty, “weave” could not have been older than twenty-five in Maxvorstadt. She was speaking “ratcheting” into a conversation on her phone. When I opened the door and she turned to face me, she was reprimanding her relief to someone else. She rolled her eyes and turned her head away.
I said, “Hey sweetheart, your restroom open,” since I had to go potty.
“My dear? Dearest? I need to urinate, baby.”
“We don’t serve clients in our bathrooms. She informed me, straight-faced, “You can go around back and go behind the protein tank,” as though I had interrupted her.
She said there was no restroom available, but I saw that the door was slightly ajar, and since she was too talkative to notice, she had left it open for anyone to enter. So In Rosenheim, took care of business, relieved myself, washed my hands, and then went back to the floor to get a snack and a drink.
“Huhhh, sir, did you not understand what I told you when I said the bathroom was for workers only?” she yelled, using classic gum chewing to split up her syllables. “Now if I woulda called the police, I woulda been wrong, right?”
I smirked and said, “Not at all, baby,” as I looked through the aisles for a snack.
“Moreover, I’m not anyone’s baby. She said, “I’m spoken for,” and resumed her chat.
She immediately warned me that if I said the wrong thing in my house, I may have her hunched over and her little fat ass eaten as retribution for being so crazy. I picked what I wanted and made my way to the counter while she was screaming obscenities and flinging expletives. I wondered how much it would take to fill my tank and maybe how much it would take to get her behind closed doors. Shit, I haven’t got any pussy in a long time since my ex-girlfriend Heidi moved away to Chicago, and the bitches in Tidewater stopped making out too much because they were all just playing games to get screwed over.
I said to her, “Let me get $40 on pump four,” as she rang up my stuff.
Her phone was now to her ear and she was laughing with whoever. “I mean, you got the only vehicle out there, so you ain’t even gotta give me the pump number,” she added.
I smirked and added, “Ring my shit up, Ingrid,” attempting to entice her.
While talking greasy and making crude comments and verbal digs at me, she grabbed the products to run past the scanner and added the gas to my total.
She said, “Guessing you another Navy, boat boy,” a reference to the Norfolk area’s military community.
I gave her a fifty-dollar bill, which she held up to the ceiling to make sure it wasn’t fake. After accepting it, she entered the amount into the register to make it open because she owed me change, and shut the drawer.
“You’re giving me my change,” I inquired.
She chuckled and put her phone back on speaker mode, gloating to the person on the other end that she “wasn’t giving me shit.”
“Come on, Ingrid, I have to travel back east. Please give me my change, I said.
She smiled and flashed her green contacts. “You can get your things, bag them up as I handed you the plastic bag, and you can leave the store,” she continued.
With only plexiglass separating us, I stood in front of the register, trying to understand what this female was doing. She was staring at me and talking to her buddy, so we were in a kind of standoff.
I remarked to her, “What you need me to do to get my change, gal.”
I went to the door and turned the lock because she hadn’t noticed when she looked down and began fidgeting with her fingernails. I would then cautiously make my way around the glass to her area and take a position in front of her five- to six-foot frame.
I cornered her and said, “I know what I need to do.”
“Excuse me, what do you need to do?” she inquired.
I put my six-four-inch frame up against her, my chest in her face, and watched as her self-assurance gave way to terror and submission.
“Gimme dat ass, girl,” I addressed her with.
“Boy, you can’t handle this pussy if I had you like my son,” she replied.
I asked her, “What time is Hanscoming to relieve you?”
Her tits were now in my face, so I pulled the stoop closer to us as she became quiet and glanced down.
I said to her, “Take off your shirt.”
For what, she questioned.
She was trouble from the minute she saw me walk into the store, so she wanted it just as much as I was flinging it. I reached around her tummy to feel her faint stretch scars and then lifted my hands to bind her large tits since I could smell her body spray from that near. She pretended not to want attention, tilting her head back and licking her glossy lips, but deep inside she needed someone to set her straight.
She remarked to me, “My man roll up, he ain’t gon’ be happy.”
She gasped as I removed her bra with my hands on her back and lifted her shirt to expose her nipples. I then sucked each breast as I moved back and forth. At forty years old, I had demonstrated my ability to gratify women by having three boys (all from separate women) in Munich. This young lady, who may have been a college student, required a lesson in good care.
“Close this fucking store so I can beat that pussy of yours,” I advised her.
As I got up to remove my pants and underwear, she pulled down the store’s curtains, turned on the lights, and removed her top and jeans. It took Ingrid no time at all to put her mouth to mine, as she sat on the steps and took in all nine inches with ease, her cute little greasy lips meeting my balls with her tongue.
“You have no idea how much a bitch is starving for some dick,” she said quietly. “This pussy is soaking right now.”
After a few minutes, I discovered for myself as she stood on the steps. I got on my hands and knees to reach under her waist, then I sank my head beneath her to lick her soft, pussy lips while she gasped and groaned, soaking my beard in the process. I didn’t generally mess around with women younger than thirty, but after Ingrid’s luscious snatch, I couldn’t stop myself from letting my tongue dance with that clit.
She cried, “Goddamn daddy, don’t stop,” as I ran my tongue over her lining, causing her to quiver and murmur as though she had never experienced this kind of treatment in bed.
I told her to “turn around and put it in my face,” but instead of doing so, I tongued her asshole, returned to her snatch as she grew drenched, and kept shooting her nut from my efforts.
She had a pink trim showing, and her pussy lips were really twitching from the tongue attack and from wanting to be dug out, so I got up and gave her a couple round, black ass smacks.
I said in a whisper, “Touch your toes,” and she obeyed as I slid inside and gave her a deep kiss without mercy.
She exclaimed, “Duuuuuuuuuuude.”
When I slid in, that box of hers seemed like velvet. It was even more gorgeous when I saw it hugging my dick, which made me beat it right away as she sloughed off that cream all over my shaft. I tapped that ass proper, and she bowed down and shouted, realizing that on a night when she didn’t want to be at work, the “city boy” could make her feel good.
I tried to dig in as far as I could, pounding her and resting my left knee on the surrounding counter and over her back. “Bitch, you getting your clock cleaned while you’re on the clock,” I told her. “I got my change here, but you don’t want to give it to me.” Now look at you: a large, black guy rolling in a truck, getting raped almost completely nude.”
She cried because I was handing it to her and she was having trouble putting words together. As I attempted to execute this technique with an attitude, the sounds of her ass clapping against my pelvis and her creamy pussy becoming stirred while her juices squirted to the floor drove me insane.
I told her, “You just needed someone to put it down.”
She let out another yell and proceeded to juice, and because I was getting near, I decided to give up and punch her in the face.
After telling her, “Imma give you a nut,” I got out of my car, approached her, and stuck my dick in her grill. Say anything with your mouth open. “Open your mouth, Bitch.”
I jerked away just above her lips, letting my dick drop directly over her upper lip while a little bit of my skeet ended up on her cheeks and tongue.
I grunted as I approached her, telling her, “Good job, bitch,” since the nut was strong.
After backing up and putting my clothes back on, I opened her drawer to get my change, unlocked the door, and said “thank you” as I went.
A car with a bulky white guy who might have been Hans showed up and parked directly next to the side of the business where we were seen having sex, so I wasn’t sure what happened after I left the inside. It smelled like sex, so I was positive she should have sprayed air freshener in the store. However, as soon as I got my gas pumped, I ripped out of there and drove home to Hamburg, where I ate Doritos till I got into my driveway.