With the face of freaking him out, we have been left to discover in the wonderful world of social networks the latest men’s fashion to flirt. Videos and more videos of young boys pretending to be arrested. Wait, before asking you what is so sensual about this, we can tell you the best. Once handcuffed against the wall in an act of brutal police violence, the kids take a moment to look at the camera with an ‘I’m going to penetrate you’ face. An infallible pant remover, come on, here several colleagues have made excuses to leave before the office. And in view of this, we have decided to gather the best tips and techniques to seduce troche and moche based on our only experience, television.
Maybe the flirt from Friends was Joey and his phrase ‘how’s that going?’ will guarantee the conquest. But it is too obvious, we recommend you break the ice with some kind of question: would you rather die drowned or burned alive? Or maybe, if you don’t want to go for the existentialist thing and you are more into science, talking about the types of gases with odor and without odor.
Can’t the words come out? Relax, prepare a performance with a boombox to set the scene and some posters with photographs and magazine letters cut out in the purest psychopathic stalker style. It never fails. He will know that you have worked it more than in a fifth grade crafts class, and he likes that a lot.
And if creativity isn’t your thing, you can always use the charming gaff trick. Visualize your conquest and meet him with a glass of any drink to go (if it’s burning, better, more exciting). Here you have to measure the times very well, play the distraction and boom! bumping you like he doesn’t want the thing and spilling the liquid on him. Apologize with the face of God, what have I done! and try to fiddle a bit without permission, because there is nothing more exciting than invading personal space and taking liberties that no one has given you.
Finally, and if none of this works, you only have one card left, you must have an epic and disproportionate romantic gesture. The best, obviously, is to interrupt someone who is about to catch a flight to confess your eternal love, but it is not always easy and to be honest, if you do not live in a place with an airport it is a mess. The other option is to sing something to him in public that includes the phrases ‘without you I am nothing’, ‘soul mate’, or ’empty bed’. Accompany the melody with a cool choreography in which you touch your chest with a shocked face. The mixture of shame and other people’s shame will inevitably give way to the dust of your life.
We recommend following these tips one by one and to the letter for a greater guarantee of success. Think that if it does not work for you, you will only have to resort to your own charms and then yes, you will be screwed.… Read full
There are many ways to start the year, but oral sex should always be on the menu.
It had stopped snowing, however, after last night and its corresponding impasse from the new year to the old, the snow had accumulated in thick piles, providing a completely bucolic image and, at the same time, not practical. The sound of the shovels and the small vehicles that removed the immaculate mantle from roads and portals was in tune with the pieces played in the mythical New Year’s concert of the Vienna Philharmonic.
Cécile, at home and sheltered from the biting cold outside, stretched out on the tips of her toes, stretching her legs licked by the black stockings. A dark pencil skirt stuffed her chewy buttocks and a white blouse, with a large bow, ran from the neck to the birth of the breast, without hiding the generous curvature of the breasts.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven and twelve,” he counted the services around the table for the umpteenth time, using his native French.
As the front door opened, some cold leaked in and was eradicated by the internal heat that flowed through the underfloor heating and, also, merriment broke out by those who were coming home for lunch.
“Lars,” Cécile called, hearing the door close and consequently the clatter of boots leaving her male feet. Will they be delayed? He asked, skidding on the pronunciation of the schweizerdeutsch.
He glanced at the watch around his left wrist and savored a couple of ticks.
“No,” he said, curt, sparing, and not because he was a bland guy; it was like the mountain, stoic. He crossed the corridor to enter the house through which the aroma of wood, restorative hot wine and the duck that was cooked in the oven rose. He stopped at the entrance to the living room, glanced at the television and, in it, at Christian Thielemann waving the baton; then he fixed his eyes on the feminine figure chiseled with curves suitable to remove the cold.
“Just in case …” Cécile began with the intention of going for the phone and, with it, sending a couple of messages. Obviously, the snowfall made the journey difficult; however, she and her OCD needed confirmation that everything would go according to plan; another thing was that Lars was willing to do it …
Behind Cécile, and gaining a good head height, Lars buried his nose in her collected hair, inhaling the perfume concentrated in the brown strands. He pushed his hips forward and rocked them gently, gently against the meaty buttocks so that the woman felt the sharp sharpness of his erection throbbing under the teeth of his fly.
“I, I, I’m going to…” Cecile burst out, tremulous. She closed her eyes, noticing how even the freckles sprinkled on the bridge of her nose were reddening, because the idea, the fantasy of being fucked at the risk of being caught red-handed had always been exhilarating, but she believed that for both of them it was just a forbidden wish. The heat emanating from Lars entered her bloodstream, poaching her, and inflated her breasts which, inconsiderate of the bra, overflowed from the cups, drawing the outline of her erect nipples on her blouse. Of course, I did not know the exact time, but there could not be much left for the arrival of the guests …
Lars ran his ten long, weathered fingers down the flanks of her skirt. She pinched the ends and pulled the garment up to reveal the silicone band of the stockings that clung to her soft thighs and, higher up, the lace panties. Viciously, she changed the hold of her skirt for the delicate waistband of her underwear, which she tugged, burying the fabric between her plump lips.
“You’re going to eat my cock,” he replied, making the end of her sentence his own, at the same time that with one hand he took her by the updo, urging her to turn her face.
A groan came from deep within her as the skirt left her buttocks, wrapped around her waist, and her skin experienced the change in temperature. Cécile’s made-up lids tightened, suppressing a gasp on her lipsticked lips. Lars’s five words echoed in her skull and … Read full