A Graceful Brothel Sex in Pretoria

Brothel Sex

Brohells(What I call Brothels) are another level of down bad but like a regular red-blooded male, I of course had to pass by one. I had just ended my day at work at noon because I felt the pressure was high and asked for a day off. As it was a norm on such days, I went on some drinking spree just to speed up my day before it was dusk.

I was going to one popular spot in Pretoria. I got there, grabbed a seat, paid for my Guinness, and began hunting. I was sat well enough to be able to scan the brothel room, and I saw a lass. she looked a bit better than her counterparts, at least in terms of dressing but I wasn’t sure about it as she hadn’t gotten up. I couldn’t exactly assess what I would be working but after the survey, there wasn’t anyone else who I thought bested her.

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So I finished my Guinness, played the leaving routine, and made a detour to her. Told her she looked nice and how about Asambe, upheld. She obliged. She got up and I kid you not, I was like a child man. Like I could guess she had an ass, I just didn’t expect one that stunning. I was pumped.

her name was Zinhle, a Zulu name meaning “grace.” She had the curves of a goddess, her skin the color of rich, dark chocolate, and eyes that sparkled with mischief and promise.

Zinhle led me to a plush in the brothel, a red-velvet-lined room, adorned with gold and crystal, a four-poster bed taking center stage. She closed the door behind us, and our eyes met, a silent understanding passing between us.

She began to undress, slowly, teasingly, her eyes never leaving mine. I watched, entranced, as she revealed her perfect, firm breasts, and the curve of her hips. She moved closer, her body brushing against mine, and I could feel the heat radiating from her.

Her hands began to explore my body, her touch sending shivers down my spine. She kissed me, her lips soft and warm, her tongue exploring my mouth. I could feel myself growing hard, my desire for her growing stronger with every touch, every kiss.

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Zinhle reached down, her hand wrapping around my cock, stroking it gently. I moaned, my head falling back, my hands reaching for her. She took my hands, guiding them to her breasts, encouraging me to touch her, to explore her body as she was exploring mine.

She knelt before me, her eyes locked on mine, and took my cock into her mouth. I watched, mesmerized, as she sucked and licked, her tongue swirling around the tip, her lips wrapped tightly around me. I could feel myself nearing the edge, my balls tightening, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

Loud Moans in the Brothel

But Zinhle had other plans. She stood, her body pressed against mine, her lips at my ear. “Not yet,” she whispered, her breath hot against my skin. “I want to feel you inside me.”

She turned her back to me, and bent over the bed, her ass in the air, inviting. I stepped forward, my hands on her hips, guiding myself inside her. She was wet, ready for me, and I slid in easily, filling her.

She moaned, her head falling back, her body moving in time with mine. I wrapped my arms around her, my hands on her breasts, my fingers pinching her nipples. She reached back, her hand on mine, urging me on, harder, faster.

I could feel myself nearing the edge, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps, my body tensing. Zinhle must have sensed it, for she reached down, her fingers finding her clit, rubbing it in time with my thrusts.

With a final, deep thrust, I came, my cum filling her, my body shuddering with the force of my orgasm. Zinhle followed, her body shaking, her moans filling the whole brothel.

She told me to flash her so she could have my number and we could continue talking. Didn’t mind and well, we have never talked. She told me “Ungangihlukumezi kakhulu, nawe uyeza uzongihlukumeza” which I assume was meant to be something about my game but whatever.

Zinhle looked at me, her eyes soft, her smile gentle. “kuze kube ngokuzayo,” she whispered, and I knew I would be back.

In the world of the brothel, Zinhle was my sanctuary, my escape from reality, my temptation. And I was her willing participant, her partner in pleasure, her customer. But at that moment, as we lay there, our bodies still entwined, I felt something more, a connection, a bond, a fleeting moment of intimacy in a world of transaction.

And as I left, the cool night air brushing against my skin, I knew that I would carry that moment with me, a memory of pleasure, of desire, of Zinhle, my graceful temptress.

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