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Margaret’s Story: How to heal a broken heart
It was an usually cold day for late June and Margaret couldn’t stand being cooped up in her 4th floor apartment all alone any longer, while her beach bag lay by the door, gathering dust.
“Fucking Denmark!” She said to no one in particular. “Why did I let that girl talk me into moving here after all?”
Margaret had just gone through a whirlwind romance and an even more devastating break up with a girl she’d met only six months earlier. It was quite unlike her to just drop everything and follow her heart, or any other nefarious regions of her body. She was always so guarded with her emotions.
I could be lying by the lake right now on my semester break, instead of being here in this frozen fucking tundra, with no one at all to hold me. She sighed and began to shake as she slumped against the door to her apartment with a thud.
“Instead, I’m here, all alone, I don’t speak the goddamned language, I don’t know anyone, and I hate this place!” She screamed the last bit and began to sniffle.. “I… I don’t even like girls,” she whimpered.
With a loud knock the door began to open.
Margaret jumped to her feet, startled, her heart beginning to race. She’d heard that Odense was one of the safest places in Denmark for single ladies and college students to live, so she never expected a break in.
“Is… is everything alright? I heard a noise…”
Oh thank the gods, she thought to herself (and possibly mumbled out loud), it’s just Bjørn, my downstairs neighbor.
Bjørn was a classically tall, Danish man in his early 20’s, with waist-length, sandy blond hair and incredible light-hazel eyes. He was the kind of man you would expect to see in an underwear catalog, perhaps modeling shorts. But he would never agree to that. He was also a shy man, never admitting to his handsome physique and never even the type to realize when a lady was interested in him.
Margaret’s heart skipped a beat. She realized that her mascara was running down her face, and that her hair, normally smoothed out in a tight pony-tail, was half pulled out and matted over the side of her face. She silently cursed herself for making such a big deal over a little “regnvejr” as the Danes called it—a rainy day.
Margaret stammered over her words. “It’s fine… I mean, nothing, is good, I mean… “
Bjørn took her hand and pressed it to his chest. “You’ve been crying, Margaret. I do not like to see a pretty American girl to cry.” He always spoke in somewhat broken English when they talked, but at least he made the effort. No one else on this god-forsaken rock of an island could be bothered. She managed a half-hearted smile at his comment.
“No, it’s really nothing, Bjørn. But thank you for checking on me.” She wiped away the last few tears with her flannel sleeve. No one here wore things like this. “No one wears colored jackets or jeans,” she thought as she looked at her smudged arm. “I just don’t fit in here.” She sighed to herself.
“I do not believing you for a one minute!” He smiled and started to casually enter the apartment as he had done many times before, to help fix her stopped-up sink, or eject a particularly grotesque spider.
“I cannot standing to see you so ked… I mean so sad.” He looked at her with a glance that made her lower lip tremble and her knees liquefy.
How many times, she thought to herself, did I just want to throw myself at him? She gasped audibly (much to his surprise) and thought, well there’s nothing holding me back anymore.
Margaret grinned and licked her lips. Now that she was done with Ida, now she was going to have a little fun before her student visa expired. Might as well make the most of Denmark, before going back home.
“Bjørn, there is something you could do to help me feel better.” She looked at his eager face and batted her eyelashes. “But first, you should take off your shirt. It’s such a warm summer day, for Denmark, isn’t it?”
He looked a little confused but nodded in agreement. “I think you have it right. We have it very warm today, even with regnvejr, er rainy day.” He wasn’t even lying or just trying to make her feel better. Fifteen degrees Celsius güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri and rain was a perfectly warm, Danish summer day. He sheepishly pulled off his thermal Arctic Fox sweater and revealed a black, skin tight t-shirt, which clung to every single one of his rippling muscles. “You have it right.” He continued. “I feel more cold now.”
Margaret took the sweater from his hand and tossed it over the lone chair in the one-room efficiency apartment. I certainly won’t miss this small, shitty apartment when I’m home, she thought to herself. Apartments just weren’t as roomy as they were back in the states. And forget about having company over. No! she mused, I can’t wait to have a place again where I can have a table and a couch.
She quickly dismissed the thought from her head and turned back to her confused, yet ever so “Danishly” polite guest. “I’d offer you a cup of coffee, but Ida took her machine back.”
“It is okay.” He gave her a rugged smile. “I can prefer water.”
“Well that could also be a bit of a problem…” Her voice trailed off. “Ida took all the cups as well.”
Margaret did her best to look confident, but she was obviously shaken. The break up had taken her by surprise. She’d come home from her Interpersonal Relations course at the University to find a hastily written note, a key and nearly everything gone. Not that any of it was hers to begin with, but she was starting to feel like it was. It was only three days since Ida walked out of her life, but already it had started to feel like an eternity. Before she knew it, her lower lip was trembling again. It would not be long until she was in tears.
Suddenly his strong arms were engulfing her, completely surrounding the whole of her body as if she weren’t there at all. This tall, quiet, muscular man held her closely without saying anything for many moments.
Before she could speak or sigh, she was silenced with a soft kiss. His body pressed firmly into hers as they embraced. Margaret found herself kissing him back, with growing need as the seconds passed.
“I had been wanted to do that for quite some time, Margaret. But I thought you were lesbian.” He smiled boyishly at her, a slight blush on his cheeks.
“Are you bisexual now?” He asked with a hopeful smile.
Margaret stayed still for a moment, looking at him in disbelief. “I… I don’t actually know, anymore.” She conceded, licking her lips after the kiss. “I had never been with a girl before… Ida…” She looked to the ground and sighed before continuing. “I never intended to fall in love with her. It all happened so fast… and now it feels like she disappeared just as quickly as we met.”
“Ah, so you do like men?” Bjørn took her hand to his chest, and gave her a look of desire. It was obvious to Margaret that he had been able to tell all along how she had felt, but was holding back.
Margaret cleared her throat, a thing she did often, when she was caught off her guard, and nodded slowly.
“I guess you could say that.” She smiled at him.
How her plan had suddenly changed. She thought she would be the aggressor in this exchange, but realised quickly that it wasn’t by chance that he came into her apartment that day.
“And if you like men, måske is it possible that you would like me?” He took a step closer, not missing a beat, and leaned in for another kiss.
You don’t have to answer that, but I hoped that you will.” He pulled his lips from hers before she could react, and lifted her up like a husband would lift his bride over the threshold in old-timey movies.
“Wh… where are you taking me?” She squealed in delight, as she felt the heat from his breath and the beat of his heart against her body.
“Is it that you still have a bed in here?” He carried her over to the only other room in the apartment.
Danish student housing is not what most would call luxury real estate. This particular apartment was smaller and dingier than most, having just one full room: a kitchen/livingroom combination and a curtained off section, scarcely big enough for a bed. It couldn’t even be considered a bedroom, because that would imply enough room for a closet or shelves, which there was not. güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri All of her clothes were in suitcases and blue Ikea bags, and scattered over the floor. She was both embarrassed and aroused at the thought of inviting him into her sleeping area.
“Ah it is through here.” He easily pushed aside the curtain door and placed her on the bed before leaning over her body.
“I have thought of doing this much.” He said with a grin and pulled off his black t-shirt, tossing it in with her clothes. “But I never will interfere with two ladies in love.”
Bjørn sat up straight as if to let Margaret take in the fullness of his body. It was incredibly firm, muscled and surprisingly tan. His rippling arm muscles were tensing and releasing of their own accord. She hadn’t ever seen it before, but he had a tattoo of a runic thorn on his chest, above his right pec. It matched the motif on the silver chain he always wore around his neck. His chest was hairless all the way down to his navel, where a delightful crop of dark, curly hairs sprouted out of nowhere. She could make out the edge of another tattoo, but could not tell what it was.
Bjørn took her hand to his chest again, shattering her thoughts, and drawing her back into the shared reality of what was transpiring between them. Her face reddened as she looked him in the eyes, and even more as her eyes wandered across his fantastic body. She gave him a smile.
“You are in very good shape, Bjørn. I had wondered what you looked like without your shirt on for a long time.” She admitted with little hesitation. Now was not the time to play coy, she thought to herself. Now was the time to regain her sense of worth.
“And now you are knowing it.” He replied with a small chuckle, as his hands moved to her chest, and began to pop open the buttons of her flannel shirt. “I think it is fair for me to also knowing what you look like without your shirt.”
She conceded the point to him with a nod. It would be fair, but she worried that he might not like what he would see. Even though she had what was considered a conventionally attractive body, she was not, in her opinion, a Danish beauty queen, like the local girls. For starters, her hair was shortish and dark brown. It was long enough for her trademark ponytail, but certainly not enough to put it up into the mega-popular messy-bun style, all the locals wore. Her eyes were a medium shade of brown and her pale face was freckled. She certainly looked every bit like the foreigner that she was. Margaret had a short body, nearly an entire small child’s size smaller than Bjørn. Her breasts were barely a b-cup in padded bras, and her hips were narrow. On more than one occasion, she had been mistaken for a young boy, much to her dismay.
As she worried silently over her features, his hands ever persisted in disrobing her. Finally she gasped in shock as the flannel shirt was tugged from her body, revealing a plain white ribbed tank top. It crumbled silently onto his t-shirt. He looked over her small figure with a wide grin.
“You are så lækker… I mean beautiful.” His face flushed with embarrassment when he did not remember the correct English words. “I would like to seeing more of you.”
Curling his fingers below the hem of her tank top , he began to tug it upward, apparently delighting in the look of surprise on her face as he pulled it up over her navel and further still…
Margaret held very still, watching his reaction as he revealed her breasts. She only rarely wore a bra, feeling it was pointless to corral the very little she had, uncomfortably. At once she felt her body flush from being exposed. Her nipples hardened into points as she felt the heat of his breath over them.
“Så lækker…” He muttered and took one nipple into his lips, sucking it inside his mouth before teasing it with his tongue.
He repeated the motion with the other one, watching the other breast flow back to its resting position. For many moments he delighted himself in the bounty of her small bosom, intermittently sucking, releasing, and sucking back in each nipple in turn. His long sandy hair danced over her frame teasingly. She breathed in his scent and sighed.
Margaret güvenilir bahis şirketleri was not one to hide her arousal, nor pull back her voice, and this time was no exception. She moaned out at his expert touch. Gods was he good at that… better than anyone else had ever been! She thought to herself between gasps. I could cum just from his tongue! Her mind exploded in a variety of sexual thoughts as she felt the first pangs of an engorging clitoris.
As if on cue, Bjørn began to unbutton the fly of her jeans. “I am hoping you will enjoy this, Margaret. I am.” He kissed her open mouth and pulled them to the floor, along with a pair of pink cotton panties. Margaret yelped as she was now nearly naked.
Bjørn licked his lips as his hungry eyes devoured her body. She was thin and pale, with small breasts. Certainly not what many of the other girls looked like, for sure. But she had such hard, exquisitely sensitive nipples and now he could see her recently shaven mound. Her intimate lips protruded between her thighs delicately. Her clit would soon follow.
He moved her thigh to the side and began to lick his way down her chest and belly, stopping only briefly to nibble her right hip, before diving into her wet core, tongue first. He quickly found her clit with his tongue and began to stimulate it, before darting his tongue in and out of her lower folds.
Margaret’s back arched as she cried out in pleasure. No one had ever licked her so thoroughly before, not even Ida, who wouldn’t give her more than a cursory taste. Her legs splayed open widely for him, her body growing closer and more desperate for its release. Her hands found their way to his head, and guided him to all the correct spots.
Egged on by her arousal, Bjørn snaked a single finger into her desperate opening. A simple touch was all she needed to be pushed over the edge. Margaret moaned a deep, throaty growl as she came. Her entire body tensed at once and then released. Her eager pussy lips squeezed his finger tight inside her, as her juices ran down into his palm. Her hands released his head after a few body spasms. Her orgasm subsided.
Bjørn looked up at her, full of lust, and slid his finger out of her wet sex. He removed his jeans with a swift motion. His cock strained against his tight, black boxer briefs. Above his hipbone, tattooed in full color, she could see a vicious-looking fox. It had a hungry expression on its face which matched that of its owner.
Margaret was quite out of breath and lying still on her bed, panting. Bjørn slid his boxer briefs down his chiseled legs, revealing the largest cock she’d ever seen. It was a full 8 or 9 inches long, perfectly erect and thick. He was uncircumcised, which in Europe was the norm, but she had never seen a penis with foreskin before. His veins bulged as his erection tensed against his firm stomach. He gave it a few quick strokes, as if to ask for her approval before kneeling in front of her wet sex and sliding it in.
“Åh Gud!” He cried out and trembled as his cock bottomed out against her cervix. Margaret’s eyes rolled back and she moaned out with him.
“You feel amazing, Bjørn… please… don’t stop!” She begged, eager to feel what his cock could do.
His legs trembled against hers, as his hands moved to spread her hips apart, and he lowered himself to her body before moving again.
“I am hoping to please you, Margaret.” He said with a thick accent. “But I am already to burst.” He steeled himself and began to thrust. One hand held her face tenderly, and the other drifted toward her swollen clit. A thick finger began to massage the tender button in circles, the others resting on her lips. With each thrust, he pressed and squeezed the nub more eagerly, until he couldn’t hold back any longer. With a jolt, he lept from the moaning girl, cupping his throbbing member, unable to contain his ejaculate. His bulging arms rippled and tensed as he groaned. Long strands of sandy hairs flipped wildly about his back. The pulsing cock could almost not be contained as his climax tore through his body, dripping from between his fingers. Margaret eyed him with awe. Even his climax looks amazing, she thought.
He looked at her, sheepishly grabbing a t-shirt that may not have been his own from the top of a suitcase next to the bed. After wrapping it around his cock, he got into the bed with her, and pulled her pert behind against his crotch. The two lovers talked and laughed and cuddled for the rest of the evening. And fucked loudly in the morning light.
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