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French Frolic

By: Goatilocks



So, there I was, stuck in the middle of France, broken down in the middle of nowhere, my hired Citroen giving up the ghost as steam bellowed from beneath the bonnet. Great, I thought, just great. It was 5 miles back to the town, and while not a bad walk on this glorious summer's morning surrounded by the picturesque French countryside, I was angry that I was going to miss my appointment with Eva in the next town of Toulouse. 

Let me explain. I am an Irish property developer and I hunt down old and abandoned property in European countries for possible development and refurbishing. I have clients from all over the world who are interested in buying property in quiet, postcard-picture areas such as the gorgeous countryside of the South of France. I rely on my contacts to keep me informed when such properties come on the market, and Eva, one of my more reliable (and beautiful) business associates phoned me in my office in Dublin that a fantastic château had just appeared on the market. I flew to France the following day, hiring a brand new (ha!) Citroen and driving the 100 plus mile journey to Toulouse, before grinding to a halt on a country road surrounded by nothing but fir trees. I tried calling her on my cell phone, but couldn't get through. Either the signal was bad or she had her phone switched off.

I swore as I opened the bonnet, rushed by a cloud of smoke. That's not good, I coughed. Shutting the bonnet I locked the doors and began the journey towards the town, keeping an eye out in case I was lucky enough to get picked up by a car heading my way. After 15 minutes, and after only 6 cars sped by honking at me (so much for French hospitality) I had resigned myself to the knowledge that I was walking, and that Eva, unless she calls me, figured I wasn't coming.    Beep beep!

Someone behind me slowed down, and as I turned round I saw it was someone on a blue moped, covered with stickers. Not just any someone, this someone was a young woman, an absolutely ravishing young woman. She was dressed like a character from a '60's French movie, not something one sees in modern day France.  Wearing nothing but white, she wore a wide rimmed hat tied with a white bow beneath her chin. Her hair jet black, it seemed to flow in raven curls from beneath the rim. She wore a white belly top that revealed much of her flat tummy and held in place her two magnificent breasts that swelled beneath, white bra straps streaking across her shoulders. A matching white skirt did little to hide her long, tanned shapely legs, and on her naked feet she wore simple brown clogs. My God, she was incredible.

"Bonjour!" she called, halting her blue moped beside. "Ca va?"

"Non, Madame," I replied. "My car is knackered and I've got to get to Toulouse in a hurry." 

"Can I offer you a lift? It's a long walk, you know!" 

"Erm, sure, I would appreciate that, merci!" 

"I have to stop off at my village before I head into Toulouse; I'll only be maybe 10 minutes, if that's ok with you?" 

Hmmmmm ... now there's a pickle. Do I climb aboard and ride shotgun with a gorgeous, scantly clad French woman and add and extra 10 minutes late to my schedule, or continue walking in the vain hope of getting picked up by a non-too hospitable Frenchman? 

I threw my leg over the back of the moped, not knowing were to put my hands at first, either gripping her slim waist or the side of the bike. I decided to play it safe and clutched the side of the moped. 

"All set?" she inquired. 

"Yup," I replied, and before I knew it she was revving along the empty country road.

*   *   *

As we drove we chatted, I telling her who I was and what I was doing here. She said I spoke French extremely well; I told her that along with French I spoke German, Spanish and some Japanese, for being in the line of work I was in it wasn't so much necessary as polite to talk with clients in their native tongue. 

"I'm Lolo," she told me. "I bet you're wondering why I'm dressed like this?"    "Funny you should say that," I said. 

"I'm an actress, working on a commercial," she informed me. 

"For what?" I asked. 

"It's for apples, of all things," she answered. 

I refrained from saying I'd love to get my hands on her apples, but added, "Ah. That explains it." 

"Explains what?" 

"You play the beautiful apple picker who's seduced by the handsome farmer!"    She laughed. "It's not Porno, you know, but I can see where you might think that. It is very revealing, isn't it?" 

"Looks okay to me, Lolo!" I croaked. 

"We're filming in an orchard not far from where you broke down. I saw the abandoned car and thought I'd see a hitchhiker." 

"I'm glad you came along." I told her. 

"Me too ..." she said, looking behind her at me, smiling. 

Suddenly we hit a pothole, the bike bouncing, I nearly tumbling off the back. "You ok?" she asked. 

"Yeah, fine, shit, I thought we only had potholes in Dublin." 

"And France too," she said. "Here, you better hold onto me, I wouldn't want you falling off." 

I reached up and held onto her naked waist, not wanting to pinch her firm skin with my fingers, I trying to grip the top of her skirt. It was awkward, clumsy, I not knowing how to hold on until she said, "I won't bite, put your arms around me!"

Slowly I stretched my arms around her waist, my forearms resting next to her tummy. I eased my way closer to her, so that my front was brushing off her back, my groin off her ass. 

"That's much better, isn't it?" she asked, and I had to admit that yes, it certainly was. 

"Mmmmmm, you're so warm!" she cooed, and with her shiny raven hair blowing in my face, her enchanting perfume attacking my senses, I prayed I wouldn't embarrass myself behind her ... 

*   *   *

We entered the small village by way of a steep hill, Lolo speeding through narrow streets waving at friends and beeping at others who wouldn't get out of her way fast enough. Presently we came to a halt outside a block of 4 storey apartments, I reluctantly letting go. She stepped off the moped, her short skirt briefly pressed between her legs. She adjusted herself before saying, "Coming up?"    I was stumped for a second. Not everyday a gorgeous French chick invites me to her apartment, even if it was totally innocent. 

"Unless you really have to be going?" she inquired. 

"No, course not." I said. This was true, incidentally. Taking a glance at my watch it was clear I had missed Eva by at least 30 minutes. 

"Bon!" she said, leading me into the building and up one flight of stairs to the second floor. There she bent down and took a key from the welcome mat before opening the door, calling, "Andre!" 

Ah. A boyfriend. Innocent indeed. However, to my delight a cat came charging from somewhere in the apartment to greet his master, Lolo scooping him up in her arms. "Did you miss me?" Lolo asked, rubbing Andre on his head. The cat, nestling into Lolo's pillowing breasts and knowing just how damn lucky it was, purred contentedly.

"Close the door, will you?" Lolo told me, heading for the kitchen with Andre as I did as I was asked. The apartment was spacious, and very French. A large sofa lay in the room with a TV and VCR facing it. The walls were smothered with pictures; of family, friends, old lovers, promotion shots of Lolo in various guises and characters. There was a small dining table with two chairs next to the room's only window overlooking the street. A giant cheese plant sat in one corner, stretching its green leaves territorially. 

"Can I get you something to drink; coffee, wine, beer?" Lolo asked me, popping her head from inside the kitchen, her hands busy with a can opener and a tin of cat food. She had discarded her hat, and her jet-black curls spiraled off her shoulders.    "Beer, please." I replied, slipping off my jacket and taking a seat in the sofa. She came to me with two opened bottles of beer, sounds of the cat munching on its dinner distant in the kitchen. Lolo sat next to me, crossing her legs.    "Salut!" We toasted the day by clicking the bottles; the beer was cold and fizzy. I nearly let out a loud belch, almost forgetting my manners. Lolo, however, had no such qualms and belched like a thirsty truck-driver. "Excusez moi!" she exclaimed, putting her hand to her chest, looking slightly embarrassed. Her face reddened and her eyes watered. 

"Sounds like you needed that." I commented, laughing. 

"Oui," she replied, taking another swig. 

"So, what's next for Lolo-the-actress?" I asked, settling into the sofa. 

"To be honest, I have an alternative motive for bringing you up here, Mr. Harper." she said. 

"Oh?" I asked. What was this about? And she knew my surname? 

"I was actually expecting you, you know." 

"Really? But we've never met before." 

"You see, I know that you're here to see the château outside Toulouse," she calmly said. 

This I didn't expect. "Oh?" 

"And I want to change your mind about viewing the property." Lolo added. 

"And why's that?" I asked, suspiciously. 

"The owner of the château doesn't have the right to sell it, it belongs to the community and we want it to remain so."

"Surely the owner," I counter-argued, "if he does indeed own the property, has the right to sell it? And if you have a dispute with him then can't you take him to court?"    "It is not a legal matter. What it is, is a greedy bastard turning his back on his heritage and history. He wants a quick sale and would sell his own Grandmother given the chance." 

"So what do you want me to do, ignore this prime real estate?" 

Lolo sighed. "It's not 'prime real estate'! It's part of our community and we won't allow him to sell it to outsiders who'll turn it into a fucking hotel or something!" 

"But I can't turn away, I – " 

"You don't understand," she said. "We can't stop the pig from selling, but what we want is to buy it from him, with no outside interference. We can't afford it as yet, but given time we'll raise enough so that we will." 

"Ah," I said. 

"So if you decide to turn around and not view the château ..." Lolo said, sinking to her knees in front of me, squeezing her globular breasts together between her arms before caressing my thighs with her fingers, "I'd be very grateful ..."

"Um, Lolo, I ..." Shit. This is not how I saw this day progressing at all. She was incredibly sexy, my God was she gorgeous, but this was business, after all. And business was business. Even as she nuzzled my legs with her nose, her lips kissing the inside of my thighs, her fingers gently pinching, kneading my firm flesh, I couldn't help but think of what the château would go for on the open market ... ten million Euro, perhaps fifteen? I was dragged from visions of millions as Lolo's fingers probed my cock, caressing me there. I was already hard, which I'm sure she found extremely amusing, the manipulative bitch!

"Oooooh, Mr. Harper, I see you're not against the idea. Mmmmmm, you're cock is so big!" she cooed, unzipping me, pulling my erection into the open, stroking it with her hand, her fingers wrapping themselves around its thick shaft.   "Damn it, Lolo," I struggled, squirming in her grip as she bent her head forward to lick the tip of my cock. The sensation as her pink tongue lapped me there was torture. But the property – nothing she was going to do would make me change my mind – 

"You don't find me attractive?" she asked, bending forward so that my cock slid between her magnificent breasts. "I think your big cock finds me attractive!" she purred, taking me in hand once more and pressing her right breast against my rigid prick. 

What choice did I have? She obviously put a lot of thought into this. And if the château meant that much to her... but I was fooling myself, there was no way I was going to back out of purchasing that property. But if she assumed I was, this could be one interesting afternoon ... 

"Bon appitie!" I smiled, thrusting upward, my cock swallowed into her mouth as she wrapped her lips around me, sucking me deep. She slurped and sucked noisily on my erection, her eyes never leaving mine, even when she released me from her wet grip, pre-cum and saliva oozing from her red, glistening lips. "Suck it, suck my cock, you gorgeous slut!" I told her, gripping her curls and pressing her head down onto me, she swallowing my thick, long cock into the back of her throat, sucking hard. She came up for air, the sucked on me again, this time her head bobbing up and down, before letting me go with a sloppy pop, her tongue lashing out at my circumcised dome.

I reached forward to un-cup her swollen breasts from her top, she assisted me and squeezed them to together between her arms, my eyes widening with sheer lust. They were incredible - round, firm, her pink nipples poking over the rim of her white bra. I teased them with my fingers, pinching them, tugging on them. She moaned approvingly, smiling lustfully at me. 

"You wish to fuck my breasts, oui?" she asked, positioning her titties around my rigid shaft, I thrusting upwards instinctively. The sensation of her hot, firm breasts around my erection was heavenly; she pressed them around me as I thrust my hips further, my sticky shaft slowly sliding between those wonderful globes. Lolo laughed aloud, before saying, "Mmmmmm, nice, big cock!" 

I let out a chortle, unbuttoning my shirt. Lolo's fingernails grazed my naked chest and flat tummy, causing me to shiver momentarily. As I flung my shirt to one side of the sofa I watched mesmerized as Lolo let my cock smack back onto my tummy with a loud 'thwack!' as she rose to her feet, her right hand buried between her legs.

"Are you wet?" I asked her, sitting up and reaching for her pussy. Her fingers were moist; they allowed me access to her pussy. She was indeed wet, her silky pussy dripping, velvet soft to my touch. She moaned as I entered her, and through closed eyes and pursed lips she steadily rocked to and fro.

"Sit on me." I told her, sucking on my finger, tasting her sweet honey. Unbuttoning her skirt she let it fall to the floor, I realizing excitedly that she wore no panties. Did she take them off while she was in the kitchen, or was she wearing none all along when she picked me up? The thought intrigued me as I struggled out of my pants and briefs. 

Squatting over me, her big, bouncy breasts jutting over her bra and white belly top Lolo positioned her wet, hot pussy over the tip of my throbbing cock and, I holding onto her waist steadied her as she sank slowly down upon my erection. God, it felt incredible; her moist tightness around me, squeezing my shaft, suffocating it with her sucking puss. As her ass found my naked thighs, I reached behind her to squeeze her warm cheeks, slapping her there as she suddenly began bouncing up and down on me, her pussy sliding on my cock, making it disappear then reappear in an almost hypnotic vision of wet beauty. As she fucked me, she groaned, groaning louder than any other woman I was previously with. I nearly felt embarrassed, (was it real or was she acting?) if it wasn't for the fact that she was so fucking hot and bouncing up and down on me, her gorgeous titties wobbling in my face, I stretching to lick and drool on them like a milk-starved baby. I pulled the straps of her belly top down onto her arms, near her elbows. She poking her cleavage at me (she knew only too well what got me off) I massaged and squeezed and palmed her busty breasts, before springing them further from the constraints of her bra. I heard her moan approvingly as I sucked on each of her nipples, gently biting them, licking, my saliva running down her smooth, round flesh.

"I wanna fuck you doggy!" I panted, Lolo reluctantly quitting her pleasurable grinding and climbing off me. Her hair tossed, her face flushed, she smiled as she helped me to my feet. We briefly kissed, our tongues duelling, my hands fondling her smooth ass; I gently pinched it before spinning her around. She presented her rear to me as she bent forward over the sofa, leaning her right knee on the arm. I saw her reach between her legs to tickle her clit, opening her dripping love nest for me. 

"Fuck me!" she ordered, I standing behind her before slamming my cock into her tight pussy, filling her with iron-hard cock, this big, throbbing erection that swelled and pulsated within her. My balls resting against her ass I simply fucked her, thrusting into her, my cock jack-hammering into her gorgeous wet puss, my big, cum-heavy balls smacking off her buttocks. 

"Spank me!" she gasped, I tugging on her hair, stretching her head back, kissing, licking and chewing on her shoulders and bra straps. I did as I was told and slapped her ass, my hand leaving a red mark on her smooth cheeks, each smack causing her to squeal with sexual delight. My cock piston-like, fucking this gorgeous woman, this edible, sexy hot slut, I had lost all control of my senses and snarled like an animal, wrapping my arm around her neck and pulling her head towards mine, smothering her throat with kisses. 

"Oui, oh oui!" Lolo groaned, her body heaving beneath mine, her pussy squeezing my cock as an orgasm ripped through her. Letting go off her neck she let her head flop down as her body tensed, electric bolts seemingly shooting through her. I slowed down my pace to let her enjoy her climax; she purring as my erection wistfully swam within her. 

Withdrawing, I helped her off the arm of the sofa and lay her down upon the cushions, I kneeling in front of her before scooping my arms underneath her legs and pulling her closer to me. I entered her once more, she twiddling with her clit, I feeling her fingernails gently scrape my length as my cock systematically slid in and out of her juicy puss. It was truly a sight to see her cup her breasts and pinch her own nipples, moaning through full red lips, her pink tongue flicking white teeth as with each stroke I brushed off her sensitive clit, causing ripples of warmth to streak through her body. 

"Come on me, oh please come on me!" Lolo sighed, squeezing my cock as it swelled wondrously within her, I desperate to hold on as long as I could, not wanting this to ever end, but so needing to pop my load it now hurt. 

"Oh fuck, I'm, I'm coming!" I stammered, withdrawing from the succulently oozing honey pot that was her pussy, I pulling frantically on my sticky cock. Meantime Lolo, considerate girl that she was, slipped beneath me and, throwing her raven curls behind her opened her mouth, stretched out her tongue and waited for the creamy deluge to come. "Oh shit ..." is all I could muster, as a torrent of fiery, thick sliver jets splashed, splattered and shot onto her face and into her swallowing mouth, her tongue flicking, licking, her lips slurping, dribbling and spitting my orgasm as I literally covered her face with my climax. Seething through gritted teeth I gasped and panted as I gazed dreamingly at Lolo who sucked on the tip of my cock, smearing my cum across her shiny cheeks, she smiling knowingly through glistening wet lips ...

*   *   *

Freshly showered, Lolo kindly cooked me a small meal, we sharing a bottle of red wine as we dined sitting at the table next to the window. I couldn't speak for her but my body tingled and was aglow – I hoped she felt the same.   "You know, I can't help but thinking," I began, sipping from my glass.   "Yes?"   "What you did, what we did ... what's to stop me from buying the property anyway?"    She smiled. "I trust you." she replied. 

"When it comes to business, especially in the property market, Lolo, you shouldn't trust anyone!" I scalded her. 

Then, from inside my jacket on the sofa, my cell phone rang. "Excuse me," I said, getting up from the table and reaching for it, its muffled ring becoming louder as I pulled it into the open. Looking at the number the screen said, 'Eva's Office'. Back to reality, and business. Sorry, Lolo. Your intentions may have been honorable, but business was business. 


French Frolic



Where to begin? It is never easy to know where to start with a confession. The easiest place to start is at La Rue - a tiny little dive of a club just a couple of blocks from my hotel in Paris. I had only been in Paris a couple of hours. I was extremely jet lagged but only had a few days to make the best of it. I was just through a vey rough break up. I was already scheduled to be in Europe for several work conferences, when the opportunity arose for a few days layover in Paris to forget my troubles, I took it. And I was not about to waste a minute of it sitting around the hotel.

I had been in La Rue about 45 minutes when I spotted her looking at me. I did not speak a word of French and was completely unsure how to proceed. She was captivating, back in the shadows, her dark sleeveless top revealing the luscious curve of her beautiful breasts. A black and white vertical striped mini skirt. The stripes thick and bold and wonderfully complimenting the taper of her legs. Her right arm was about 80% covered in tattoos, not a true sleeve but a riotous collection of symmetry from her wrist to her shoulder, waves and lanterns and things that should never match somehow tied together in a harmony that was uniquely hers.

Her hair was dark and short, parted on the left in a boy cut, framing a round face, dark high pinstripe eye brows, the light was too dark to make out the color of her eyes, but the intense smolder of her gaze was clear. Her long straight nose leading down to full pouty lips, dark red Gothic lipstick and a sardonic twist to the left side of her mouth, giving the distinct impression she had every intention of eating me. I felt like prey in her gaze. Waiting, being stalked and knowing there was no escape, and knowing I did not want to escape.

The music changed - the tempo shifted the crowed flooded the dance floor, I lost sight of her. I sat nursing my beer, scanning the room trying to spot where she had gone when I felt a breath on the back of my neck and something whispered in French in my ear. It startled me so badly I almost jumped out of my seat. She was standing there - much taller then I would have guessed, standing over 6 feet I would guess. I stand only five four, she absolutely towered over me. She was proffering a bottle of absinth and two glasses. I did not know how to respond, I hoped the club was dark enough to hide the raging erection I suddenly sprouted when I found her towering above me. Her breasts larger then I first realized, her long tapered legs curving up into slim muscular hips . Her grey eyes smoldering - her gaze sliding down my body coming to rest on my lap and then jumping back to my face with an absolute carnal hunger filling her face.

She stopped asking and invited herself to sit. She set my beer aside and poured two glasses, where the sugar and cold water materialized from I could not say. She must have had a cocktail waitress follow her out, but I never noticed them. She handed me my drink her hand falling to my thigh as she leaned in to toast - what? I have no Idea, but I toasted with her and tossed back my drink. It was much stronger then I was prepared for, I knew absinths repute but I had never before experienced it first hand.

She poured round two, this time when I took it she let her hand drop right to my erect cock. She said something with a giggle and a smile as she threw back her second glass. I had the distinct impression she was mocking me, but I did not want her to leave and did not want to fall behind so I smiled (quite stupidly I am sure) and threw back my drink as well. This seemed to excite her as she poured round three. I barley had a chance to get the glass down before she grabbed me by my erection and dragged me onto the dance floor. The beat was thumbing and kind of fast but the floor was crowded and she pulled me in close, pressing my face into her breasts and laughing like a victor. 

My hands slid around her back, she stroked my head and murmured something as my hands slid over her muscular back and down to her tight ass. She was much stronger then I originally thought, she was obviously in good shape, but she was in better shape then I had suspected. She pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. Then her hand took me by the back of my head, managing a hold on my short hair, and bent me back, her fierce eyes captured me for a moment before she leaned down, almost close enough to kiss. Once again I desperately felt like I was being stalked - and I desperately needed her to kiss me. Thats what was happening, I was not kissing her, she was taking what she wanted, when she wanted. She finished her descent her hot mouth capturing mine, Her tongue forcing my lips apart and invading me. Forcing my jaw open, when she broke off I felt strangely violated and desperately empty.

With a devilish grin and a maniacal giggle she grabbed me by the hand, snatched the half finish bottle off of the table and led me out the door. The cool air outside hit me and I realized just how drunk I was. It sobered me slightly as she looked at me and asked "hotel"? that simple word revealed just how broken her english was - and I started thinking this may not be a good idea. Things were going to easily. She was not dissuaded by my hesitance. She turned towards my hotel and started leading me in that direction. I wanted to ask how she new, but really it was obvious. I was foreign and this was the only hotel in the area. At least the only one likely to have a tourist.

We got to my room, again I hesitated at the door, realizing just how vulnerable I was. It was late, no one of note saw us together, I was exhausted, and I had realized just how much stronger then I she was. She spun me around so my back was to the door, she leaned in trapping me. Her mouth closed over mine, her tongue forcing its way in again. My body failed me collapsing the rest of the way into the door. She snatched the key away, slid the card in the lock, and opened the door. If not for her hold on me I would have fallen backwards onto the floor. She pushed me the rest of the way into the room, closed and locked the door shoved me backwards into the sofa, and just to show me how easy it was for her she then set the bottle on the table. She manhandled me and the room and still had a free hand to hold the bottle.

I knew I was trapped - I also knew I did not want to scape. She casually strolled towards me, placing a foot on each side of me. Her skirt was slightly lifted revealing more thigh and driving me absolutely crazy. My cock was throbbing with the excitement, I could feel my pre cum cold in my underwear. I had a desperate need to touch her. I started to sit forward. She stopped me with a fingertip to my lips. Her hands took her shirt and swept it over her head, revealing her full, braless, gravity defying breasts. I was sure they had to be fake though I could not see a scare and they certainly felt real when she had held my head pressed into them. She reached out with her left hand and grabbed me by the hair again pulling my face into her taught stomach. My hands reflexively came up and caught her by the outside of her thighs, my fingers curving around and feeling the muscles of her ass flex and tense as she pulled me in tighter. She started speaking again in French, I had no idea what she was saying as her right hand slid between my left hand and my face. Her hand slid down to the hem of her skirt as she held me firmly in place. Her smoldering grey eyes holding me as surely as her grip as she murmured to me in French.

I was unsure of her hesitation at this point, I was completely captured by her, it was as if the predator was playing with her dinner. I was eager to please. Her right hand slowly pulled up the hem of her skirt as her left hand pulled my head back and down. I suddenly smelt the musk of a male. I thought I must have cum through my pants and not realized it, until I felt her bulge through her panties press against my cheek. My shoulders tensed and I tried to push back as her left hand held my face firmly in her crotch. She continued to coo soothingly in French (she? was I still thinking of her that way) and her right hand pulled her lacy panties aside releasing the biggest cock I had ever seen. She was easily over eight inches and she was not even hard yet.  

Her left hand held me firmly to the left side of her crotch, I realized I had been smelling her musk. I tried futilely to push back. I looked up to beg her no, that's when I could see the absolute heat and desire in her eyes as her cock slowly stiffened and drifted up the left side of my face. I stopped struggling, and I saw her realization of victory in her eyes. Her speech changed - the tempo, the rhythm. I knew she had stopped whispering reassurances - no, now she was giving directions. And while I could not understand a word she was saying I knew I would end up obeying.

My cock was absolutely desperate to get out of the cage my clothes had become. My hands were once again wrapped around the curves of her ass, not holding her to me, but not trying to push her away either. Her hands still held me firmly in place though there was no struggle to do so now. Her musk filled my nose, pressed deeply into her crown of red brown pubic hair. Her Goth look was obviously helped with a dye job, somehow that realization turned me on even more. I could feel her mostly erect cock all along the left side of my face, well passed my ear. Her balls had drawn up some and were pressing on my chin. Some how they seemed like the least threatening place to start. My hands cupped her ass lifting slightly as I lowered my face a few inches. She allowed me to slip down, my lips parted. I could feel the warmth of her flesh and I found myself desperately needing to fill my mouth with it. I could taste the saltiness of her skin, and the maleness of her musk.

She tilted my head back slightly, my mouth full of balls I looked up into her heat filled eyes, my gaze licking over her gorgeous breasts with their big stiff nipples. I wanted those nipples. I allowed her nut to slide out of my mouth I tried to rise up, but she held me firmly in place. I could still feel her thick cock against my left cheek. Her grip on my hair firmed as she drew her hips back. Her cock sliding against my face. I knew she was about to force feed me that monster - and I could tell she was not fully erect yet. As her head slide past my ear and glided over my cheek to my chin I looked up in her eyes and pleaded no. She just laughed, I tried to tell her I could never take that much, but before the words passed over my lips she was already forcing her thick head between them, stilling my tongue as her cock pressed it into the bottom of my mouth.

I tried desperately to escape backwards, this only amused her. I quickly ran out of couch to back up on. She had her knees on both sides of me her hands firmly on the top of my head and was thrusting powerfully into my mouth. She would pull her head back almost to my teeth. I could taste her pre cum sliding over my tongue as she thrust forward again. her cock was fully hard now - splitting my jaw. Each time her head forced itself into the back of my throat it made me gag. About her 5th or 6th thrust in this position was more then my body could handle. My body completely betrayed me and I went into a mind blowing orgasm from having this powerful woman rape my mouth. All of the tension went out of me as my body shock, I found my hands desperately clingy to her ass as she continued to thrust about a 3rd of her cock in and out of my mouth.

Once my trembling stopped, she titled my head back about mid thrust. She had maybe half of her cock in my mouth, my gag reflex was temporarily subdued. She had absolute victory in her eyes. She slowly withdrew her cock and finished stripping down. She took me by the hand and lead me towards the bed. She quickly stripped me pushed me onto my back with my head hanging over the edge of the bed. She moved around to straddle my face. Her right hand came up to cover her mouth and her left one pointed at my spent cum covered cock as she spoke. I have no idea what she said, but I am sure it was something like "how pathetic that little thing is, all spent, and we are just getting started."

She took a step forward I reached up to try and stroke her off, but she snatched my hands aways pined them down on the bed and lowered her thick hard cock down to my mouth. I wanted to turn away, but I NEEDED to have my throat fucked again. My mouth opened even though I was thinking "no, stop don't let her do this". Her warm cock quickly filled my mouth with the taste of her flesh and her pre cum. I found myself desperately trying to accommodate that big thick cock and needing to know what her load tasted like. I could see her balls drawn tight up against her body and I was sure I would soon know, but she just kept thrusting away at my face. My gag reflex had not yet returned but I still could not manage more then about half of her cock. I could feel her thick head desperately trying to stretch my throat open, and all I could think was "god please let her cum soon, I NEED her cum.

After what seemed an eternity of having my face violently fucked her tempo changed, she stopped pining my hands down and shifted her position a bit. I could tell she was getting ready to cum. My mouth tightened hungrily around her cock. I was finally going to get what I NEEDED! She thrust a couple of more times and I felt her climax build. Thrust, thrust, thrust, suddenly the taste I had been craving. I hungrily sucked her cum down as she pulled her hard spurting cock out of my mouth. I felt robbed and violated all at the same time as she continued to shoot thick streams of warm cum over my face and chest. I lost count after 8 - 8, plus the two that had gone mostly in my mouth. My eyes were glued shut with thick jets of her cooling cum. As I lay there feeling violated and strangely satisfied all at once I noticed my own little cock desperately needed relief.

I reached down to service myself, but she pulled my hand away as she repositioned me on the bed and slipped in beside me. She did not speak, but her meaning was clear. I was her's; I was her's, and she was not finished yet. I had to be satisfied with the hungry cum covered kiss she gave me, and what little of her I could manage to lick off of my face as she held me there and let the rest of her spunk cool and dry on my skin.

I had to be satisfied waiting for her pleasure, but I wasn't satisfied. I was confused, aroused, ashamed - and extremely turned on. She had me pinned on my right side, her left arm over me and still holding my wrist. I could feel her soft full breasts pressed into my back, my head pillowed on her right arm. Being spooned, but I had never been spooned like this. I was so turned on my cock ached with the pleasure. I could feel her taught belly against my lower back, her cock laying against my ass. I tried not to think about her cock against my ass. The fact I really liked her cock against my ass. What it would mean when she fucked me, it was obvious she was going to fuck me. I had held women like this before, waiting for round two. I could not stop anticipating round two.

Being held there, trapped under her arm, was driving me crazy. I tried not to think about it but I could feel her cock against my ass. I tried not to move, any little shift sent sensations of longing through my body. After the fucking she had giving my mouth I found it hard to believe she would be ready before morning. I could not wait that long. I was about to explode with desire. I tried to reach down and stroke my cock, but her hand just tightened on my wrist. Her hips shifted I could feel her cock pressed more firmly against my ass. My hips rocked with desire. I could feel her cock begin to stiffen.

I could feel her cock begin to stiffen and it drove me crazy with desire and ashamed with guilt all at the same time. Desire feeling her big cock back there and guilt knowing that I desperately wanted what she would do with it. She pulled my left arm towards my chest, her hand released my wrist but continued to trap my arm as her hand snaked up to my neck. I stiffened as her fingers closed around my neck pulling me tighter into her grip, her erection pressing hard into my backside. She whispered into my ear "girl" - I was unsure if she was calling me one or telling me I was about to be one. It didn't matter, I had pushed her for this provoked it - and now it scared the hell out of me.

I tried to wrestle free but she just laughed as she rolled me onto my stomach. rolling with me giving me no chance to escape. Her right arm sliding out from under my head her left one tight on my neck, pulling me towards her, arching my back. I felt her left foot press between my legs, I thought about trying to keep them closed, but I had mounted plenty of women with their legs together - it wouldn't stop her. The only difference was they had been willing. I was not, was I? She pressed my legs apart I felt her shift onto her knees, and she laid more heavily on my back, her left hand still holding my throat. Her right hand slid under my stomach, brushing my cock as she pulled my hips up arching my back. "Girl" she whispered again, no a said. But it was useless. She was declaring her intent to rape me into one. My breath caught ,my body trembled, and my cock ached when I felt her cock head slip between my cheeks and press against my ass. 

Her weight shifted and there was suddenly a sharp firm pressure demanding to fill me. I tried to squirm but her grip tightened on my throat, her other hand pulled my body back against her hard cock. The pressure on my ass increased and my cock absolutely ached for release. A tremor started at my hips and traveled through my body as it surrendered to her demands. It was incredible, having someone beautiful on top of my back pushing deep inside me. I moaned into the pillow, her hand released my neck and hooked over my shoulder, her right slid up my body and did the same. She started to gently thrust deeper inside me, pressing my face into the pillow which had become soaked with my tears. Each thrust brought another moan from deep inside me. A moan being muffled by the pillow her weight was forcing my face into.

Her tempo shifted, she started thrusting more firmly, more quickly. My body trembled and my cock unloaded - it wasn't an orgasm, it was more like a gallon of pre-cum drained out. I could feel my hard cock sliding back and fourth against the cum covered sheets, it was finally getting the attention it so desperately craved. It did not take long at all until my body was gripped in orgasm. She used the distraction this caused me to push deeper inside me. I knew she could only be in me about half way, but it felt like she had rammed a mile of cock up my ass. I slide my arms up to the top of the bed so I could brace myself and push back against her thrusting hips. Her hands clamped down hard on my shoulders and I felt her start to orgasm - then I felt her load deep inside me. I could feel each jet as she came deep in my ass. I knew the load she was leaving back there was at least as thick and heavy as the one that had dried on my face.

I felt her body shudder its last, still she did not withdraw. She just collapsed on top of me her cock going limp in my ass. My body pressed down under hers my legs sprawled apart, my cock and stomach coated in my cooling cum. I knew this was only just starting...



French Frolics Ch. 01



I'm a 26-year old teacher at a private girls' school on the south coast of England. I've been there two years and I'm the youngest of the three men on the teaching staff. Naturally, surrounded by 200-odd teenage girls (not to mention a couple of dozen mostly young female colleagues), you get the odd kid trying to flirt with you, but I'd always managed to avoid any awkward situations – until last Autumn.

It was half-term and one of my fellow geography teachers, Shirley Stringer, had arranged a trip over to Brittany in France for some of the girls. It was a regular thing, and I'd agreed to go as well, but only because I'd spent the previous six months trying to get into Shirley's knickers. As we waited to board the overnight ferry to Saint Malo, where we were staying, the cow told me with tears of joy in her eyes that she'd just got engaged. I had to give her a big smile, a big hug, and try to avoid my big erection pressing against her.

There were 15 girls on the trip, aged from 15 to 18, Shirley, me and our French language teacher, Mademoiselle Mouthillon. I suspected she had a crush on me, but I wasn't remotely interested. She's a little dark, mousy thing with black framed spectacles and a faint moustache. She reminded me of the Greek singer, Nana Mouskouri. Anyway, on the first full day we did a trip to Bayeux to see the celebrated Battle of Hastings Tapestry, which I'd seen when I was 11. The second day, despite the girls begging us to sign up to a locally organised excursion to Paris, we visited Rennes Cathedral and a local museum. On the last full day we went to Mont Saint Michel, the location of a very famous, and very photogenic, historic abbey.

The place is one of the top visitors attractions in France, and it was a blisteringly hot, dusty day, airless, and the village around the foot of the Mont was packed like a sardine tin with loud, sweaty tourists. After three days of dry culture, surrounded by screeching, giggling schoolgirls, frustrated in my lust for Shirley, irritated by la Mouthillon's simpering attempts to beguile me, and wound up by kids who were amused by the French teacher dogging my every step, I was, hot, bored and totally, totally fed up. Leaving the girls to run riot, I skulked near the entrance arch to the village, mooching around tacky, overpriced, overcrowded souvenir shops. After a while I treated myself to a huge expensive ice cream cornet and found a stone bench in a cool, dark recess near the entrance arch to the village to sit and enjoy my purchase.

I had only just sat down when I heard an ear-piercing argument between several young women. Sure enough, it was three of our girls have a screaming fit at each other. I tried to sink back into the shadows, but two of the girls flounced off and the third one slumped on the other end of the bench to me. It was Charlotte Evans, one of the school's 'it girls'. Popular with everyone – most of the time – five feet eleven tall, deep blue eyes, long golden blonde hair, slim, shapely body, long, long legs, star of the netball team. One of my fellow male teachers had the hots for her something rotten, and I was aware of at least one female colleague who felt the same way.

Charlotte was dressed in a brief red and white striped vest top which did little to hide her ample boobs, and a denim skirt which ended less than halfway down her gorgeous thighs. It had been her 18th birthday just the night before and, perhaps unwisely, Shirley and I had let her and a couple of friends go out into Saint Malo to celebrate, with Yvette Mouthillon to keep them 'under control'. They'd returned to the hotel in the early hours of the morning, with Mouthillon distraught (she claimed they'd spiked her drinks) and the three pupils completely wrecked on booze. All that following day Charlotte had looked dreadfully hung-over, quiet and sullen, deathly pale and ready to throw up at a moment's notice. Now she was red in the face, scowling and bathed in a sheen of sweat.

She didn't seem to have noticed me at first; then she did and, with an evil smile and a twinkle in her eye, said in an innocent voice, "Oh, I thought Mademoiselle Mouthillon would be with you, Sir." I replied grumpily that she wasn't. Charlotte shuffled her bum along the seat until she was sitting right next to me, cutting off my escape out of the recess. "Hot, isn't it. Give us a lick of your ice cream sir." By now I was thoroughly pissed off. My brief respite from the school harpies had been shattered, I'd been wound up again about that bloody Frenchwoman, and now the cheeky cow wanted to share my overpriced treat! It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Charlotte to sod off, but before I could stop her she leaned in and swirled her little pink tongue around the ice, her eyes meeting mine.

As Charlotte leaned over, her left hand landed firmly on my groin. For a split second I thought it was accidental, and I was about to delicately move the hand away, but with the speed and skill of a seasoned professional her fingers twitched, and before I knew what was happening she'd lowered my fly and her hand had slipped down the front of my briefs! I could have stopped her – I should have done, of course – but the moment her long, hot, sticky fingers wrapped around my cock it was ramrod stiff. As she began to shuffle her hand confidently up and down me I found my mouth was suddenly too dry to speak, and I watched in fascination as she pulled it out of my jeans and continued to wank me. Bloody hell, there were thousands of people wandering past the opening of the recess, three feet away, every minute: not just tourists, but gendarmes, priests and nuns too! All the while Charlotte continued to lick and nibble at my ice cream, her eyes still locked on mine.

This teenage school student was in complete control of the situation and I couldn't have stopped her even if I'd wanted to. Trying to put the danger of discovery to the back of my mind I closed my eyes, let my head fall back against the cool rock of the wall behind me, and enjoyed the growing warmth in my loins, and the first feelings of an orgasm building inside my cock. Just as I was getting close Charlotte took her hand away, and I gasped in disappointment; but a moment later it was back, coated in ice cream. The combined sensation of the sticky coolness and Charlotte's fingers firmly gripping me and pumping me was too much, and in seconds I launched a huge fountain of jizz, which splattered onto her hand and the leg of my jeans.

Apparently satisfied with that, Charlotte took a huge bite of ice cream, gave me a cold kiss on the cheek and, with a wink, whispered, "See you back at the coach, Sir." Then, wiggling her bum at me, she sashayed out of the recess, licking my spunk off her hand. Feeling dazed, I tucked my sticky cock away, about a second before a little French kid and his grandpapa settled themselves down on the other end of the bench. I stumbled out, heading for the nearby gents' toilet – and the first thing I saw was Yvette Mouthillon, with a cheesy grin on her face. She glanced down at the dark, wet patch on my jeans and back up at my face, grinning even wider and raising one eyebrow suggestively. Christ, I thought, she must have seen Charlotte leave and put two and two together. Maybe she'd even seen Charlotte tossing me off. I foresaw big trouble with her at some point.

When I got on the coach back to Saint Malo, Charlotte moved over to make room for me to sit next to her, but I took a seat as far from her as I could get. I also managed to avoid her in the hotel that evening, and on the boat back to Portsmouth the following day. I also avoided Mouthillon, who apparently spent half the trip asking people if they'd seen me. Okay, Charlotte was an absolute babe, and there had to be a chance I could have her if I wanted to, but I was a teacher at her school and, even though she was legally a consenting adult, I'd certainly lose my job, and just possibly even my liberty, if anyone suspected the slightest impropriety between us. She wasn't in any of my classes at the school, I had no real reason to run across her and, in terms of the risk factor she represented to me, I really hoped I'd seen the last of Charlotte Evans.



French Frolics Ch. 02



For several weeks after my school field trip to France I did my best to avoid Charlotte Evans. I'm a teacher at the school, and Charlotte was an 18-year old pupil who caught me unawares in France and masturbated me, in a very public place. Keeping away from her wasn't easy: even though she wasn't in any of my classes, she seemed to be dogging my every step, almost like a stalker. Any time I ate in the school refectory Charlotte seemed to be at a nearby table, trying to catch my eye; when I walked along the corridor, with girls rushing between lessons, Charlotte seemed to be there; she even seemed to be hanging around outside my classroom every time I left it. It was starting to get freaky.

Charlotte was the most attractive female in the entire school, teaching staff included, but I just wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship with her. If anyone had found out about it my entire future would be buggered up for good, and at 26 I wasn't prepared to risk that. One day, I suppose it had to happen sooner or later, she did manage to catch me alone. It was 8.15 in the morning and I'd got in early to plan my first lesson of the day. As I entered my empty classroom I heard a sound behind me and turned to see Charlotte standing in the doorway, shuffling her feet awkwardly. Her deep blue eyes locked on me and she asked, "Rob, are you trying to avoid me?" She'd never called me anything but 'Sir' or 'Mr Peters' before.

I sighed and sat at my desk, motioning Charlotte to sit at one of the pupil desks. Instead she parked her bum on the edge of my desk, and sat there with her long legs swinging. I decided I had to address the issue head on. "Look Charlotte, what happened in France was a mistake. I can't pretend that what you did to me wasn't pleasant -- at the time -- but I didn't want you to do it, and it was very wrong of you. You know that. I'm really not interested in us getting close to each other. Apart from anything else, I don't think my girlfriend would like it." I hadn't had a girlfriend in over a year, but there was no way Charlotte could know that. "Now, you're a lovely young girl, I'm sure you don't have any trouble getting boyfriends. So I suggest you forget the childish crush you have on me, and go and get on with the rest of your life. Okay?"

For a few moments she sat stock still, staring silently at me. Then her bottom lip began to quiver. Slowly she eased herself off my desk, her skirt riding high up her thighs. Her eyes glistened with tears. She sobbed one word -- "Bastard!" -- and ran out of the door. I sighed again, feeling a bit of a shit. I hadn't seen Charlotte as the vulnerable type, and I hadn't expected her to get quite so emotional over it. The old phrase about a woman scorned ran through my mind, but even if she told someone she'd wanked me at Mont Saint Michel it would just sound like a young girl's fantasy about a teacher, and I'd laugh it off. I didn't think I had anything to worry about.

Except maybe Yvette Mouthillon. She was our French language teacher, who'd been on the French trip with us, and I was pretty sure she strongly suspected something had gone on between me and Charlotte. But she had an even bigger crush on me than Charlotte -- an equally unwelcome one on my part -- and I was gambling that she wouldn't do anything which would force me out of the school, and away from where she could gaze at me with big, sad cow eyes. Shaking myself mentally and physically, I tried to get on with my day.

It was more than a week later, on a Friday, that things came to a head. I'd barely seen Charlotte in the intervening period, to my relief, just the odd glimpse in the corridor, or across the school playground. Blonde and five feet eleven (two inches taller than me), she was difficult to miss, even at a distance. I was just walking out to my car in the deserted school car park -- on Friday afternoon most of the teachers clear out as soon as they can, but I have one of the last classes of the day. I suddenly heard pounding feet and gasping breath, and I turned to see Jeanette Adams running towards me. She was a sixth former, 18 years old but looked more like 14 -- small, skinny and quite immature in her ways as well. "Sir, you've got to come", she gasped, "Inderjit's hurt herself, really badly, there's blood and everything. Please Sir." 

At the time it didn't occur to me to wonder why Jeanette had come to me -- I couldn't have been the only adult left in the place -- I just followed her as she turned on her heels and dashed away. I have first aid training, and Inderjit Kaur was one of the star pupil's in my sixth form geography class, and a girl with whom I had a really good relationship. Her father is an elected member of the local county council, a huge, physically intimidating Sikh with a bristling beard and a challenging manner. It did occur to me to get my mobile 'phone out and call for an ambulance, but I thought it would be prudent first to see how bad her injury really was.

Jeanette led me to a rather ancient building, behind the new school gym, which is used to store sports equipment. I vaguely wondered what the girls had been doing there in the first place: it's supposed to be off limits to pupils, and I thought it was padlocked shut, with only the caretaker and a couple of sports mistresses having keys. But that wasn't my main concern at that point, and I charged through the door behind Jeanette. Inderjit was lying on the floor moaning, her forearm covered in a sticky red substance. As I started to move towards her I felt an arm reach around my neck, someone stuffed a sweet smelling rag over my mouth and nose and everything went black.

When I awoke I felt cold. I was lying on my back and, not sure what had happened to me, I gingerly raised my head -- to find I was stark bollock naked! I appeared to be lying on a pile of rubber gym mats. I tried to move my arms to get up, and found I couldn't. The reason was that they were manacled to metal equipment shelves bolted to the walls either side of me. It wasn't the usual type of handcuffs that were holding me: they were the pink fluffy type you get from shops like Ann Summers, but they were just as effective as the real thing. I sank back onto the top mat in despair. A harsh, naked light bulb glared in my eyes. My initial thought was that this had to be some kind of terrible dream -- this sort of thing just didn't happen, not in real life. Then a flash of movement caught my eye. I raised my head again, and Jeanette and Inderjit both walked into the room, stripped down to their bras and knickers. To my complete lack of surprise, there appeared to be nothing whatsoever wrong with Inderjit's supposedly injured arm.

They both stared at me, Jeanette giggling behind her hand, Inderjit gazing intently at my groin. I was just about to ask them what the hell was going on when a third figure entered the room, and I suddenly understood at least who the evil genius was behind this little scheme. Charlotte Evans was stripped down as well, to a semi-transparent black bra and a minute matching pair of thong panties. She had a sweet, triumphant smile on her face, and a scary looking craft knife in her hand, no doubt stolen from the art department at the same time as the paint for Inderjit's 'wound'. Seeming as if she was trying to sound like Marilyn Monroe, she half-whispered "Hello Rob."

I glowered at her, trying to assert my teacherly authority, and asked, "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" My voice came out as a terrified squeak -- so much for my authority.

Charlotte sat on the edge of the top mat, and I shuddered as her finger tips stroked my naked lower leg. "I would have thought that was pretty obvious, Rob darling - you're our prisoner, and we've decided that you're going to pleasure us, one by one."

I would have laughed if I hadn't been so scared. There was something frighteningly calm in Charlotte's manner. I imagined headlines in the local paper: 'teacher found disembowelled in school'. Clearing my throat, I tried to sound a bit more in charge this time. "Look, this is ridiculous. You've had a bit of fun, now let me go, right this minute, and I'll think about not getting all three of you expelled and ruining your chances of qualifying for university." Jeanette looked slightly startled at that, but the other two remained totally impassive. I pressed on. "Christ, we're in the middle of the school grounds. How long do you think it'll be before someone finds you here?"

Charlotte shook her head slightly, still lightly stroking my legs, her eyes fixed on my genitals. "Nobody ever comes here, especially on a Friday night. We could keep you here all weekend if we wanted to. What do you think, girls?"

Both the other two giggled. I was starting to get really worried now. I blurted, "My girlfriend's expecting me home by six. If I don't get there soon she'll be calling the police. You kids are going to be in such trouble."

This time Charlotte was shaking her head before I even finished speaking. "You haven't got a girlfriend, Rob. Last Saturday you did your weekly shop then stayed in your garage tinkering with your car. Sunday you played rugby in the morning, then spent the afternoon in a pub with your mates, getting smashed. If I were to ring the rugby club and tell them you and I were away for a dirty weekend together I'm sure they'd understand."

Christ, I thought, I'd been right -- the little bitch had been stalking me! I made one final, desperate attempt for sympathy. "Inderjit, you're a bright girl, and I thought you and I got on well. Why are you doing this to me?"

She indicated Charlotte with a nod of her head then, in a voice deeper in pitch than mine (even when I wasn't scared shitless), replied, in a tone suggesting only a moron could fail to get it, "I fancy you Sir. Chas promised that if I helped her she'd get you to shag me."

I sank back numbly, letting that sink in. Suddenly Charlotte stood up decisively, and said, "Okay girls, let's get on with it." And with that, without a moment's hesitation, all three of them stripped off their underwear, dropping it on the floor, and I was confronted with three naked 18-year old girls. It would have been difficult to imagine three more different physical types. Jeanette was barely five feet tall, with spiky ginger hair, and her entire pale body was covered in freckles. She had an angular, slightly ratty face, and surprisingly pointy, conical breasts, with long, spongy looking nipples. Apart from that, there was nothing of her. She had almost painfully thin arms and legs, I could more of less count her ribs, her hipbones poked forward either side of a flat tummy, and her pubic mound was shaved of hair, reinforcing the impression of her as a child rather than the young adult she really was.

Inderjit was about five feet six, but apart from that she was big in every way. A round, fleshy, usually cheerful face; mountainous light brown tits, with flat nipples and dark areola that spread probably four or five inches from the centre; and a big belly, with a navel like the mouth of a volcano, overshadowing an Amazonian growth of pubic hair, which started just below her belly button and extended down between big dimpled, fleshy thighs. Although she was facing me, I knew she had a massive bum too -- I'd ogled it enough times as she was leaving my classroom.

Charlotte had a predictably perfect body: a long graceful neck, beautiful pear-shaped boobs with pert pink nipples, a slim waist which curved out to generous hips, and a neatly trimmed pubic patch, even paler than the long blonde hair on her head. Her legs seemed to go on forever, with lightly muscled thighs and calves, and she had small, pretty feet with the nails painted pink.

I suppose it would be many blokes' dream to be ravished by three enthusiastic teenage girls; all I could think of was the fact that if anyone found out I'd lose my job, at the very least, and Inderjit's father would probably tear my balls off. After all, who would believe that a male, rugby playing teacher had been raped by three schoolgirls? The sight of them standing there was amazingly erotic, and I desperately tried to think about anything but that in a doomed attempt to stop my cock from twitching to life. As they moved in on me I desperately squawked "Look, this isn't like a man raping a woman. I have to be aroused for anything to happen, and I can't be when I'm trussed up and intimidated."

Charlotte chuckled. "Oh, you look to me as if you're starting to get aroused, Rob darling. Anyway, it's just a question of bio-mechanics." She squatted between my legs, and for a moment I caught a glimpse of her pink slit peeking out from between her thighs. "We've just got to stimulate your blood flow and see what happens." For the second time in a matter of weeks, Charlotte's long, slim fingers wrapped around my shaft and began sliding my foreskin up and down. At the same time a smaller, colder hand -- Jeanette's -- grasped my balls and started stroking and squeezing them. I screwed my eyes tight shut, but I knew I was fighting a losing battle: a couple of minutes of this and I'd be as stiff as a flagpole.

After a few moments I felt something brush across my nose. I opened my eyes and got an extreme close-up of Inderjit as she swung her big boobs across my face. Unable to help myself, I reached my head up and stuck out my tongue, before trying to snare one of them in my mouth. I was more than halfway to shooting my load when, at an unspoken signal from Charlotte, they all stopped what they were doing. Then she said, "Okay, I think Jeannie should go fist." Charlotte skilfully unwrapped a condom and slid it over me. Jeanette giggled again, and squatted over my midriff. She grasped my cock in one hand, flexed her legs, and slowly I entered her body.

She stayed quite still for a moment, panting as she got used to the feel of my prick inside her. Then she started bouncing wildly up and down on me, still panting with her eyes tight shut. I'm as sure as I can be that she was a virgin, she was incredibly tight and had no feel for any rhythm whatsoever. On some of the strokes she threw her weight backwards, and my cock was pulled quite painfully with her. At other times she pitched forwards, her fringe brushing against my neck. I lay flat on my back and tried to concentrate on cumming as quickly as possible, to get this over with.

For the second time I felt something on my face. It was Inderjit again, apparently impatient for some action, but this time she was pushing her hairy cunt down towards me. I stuck my tongue out and made contact. She adjusted her position slightly, and my tongue slipped into her. I almost forgot about Jeanette on my knob as I savoured the sweet-sour taste of Inderjit's wet pussy, and the feel of her pubic jungle tickling my nose. I think it was that rather than Jeanette's amateurish efforts that made me shoot off a minute or so later. A few seconds after I'd filled the condom Jeanette started bucking even more wildly before giving a little scream and pitching forwards onto me.

Suddenly there was a flash of light. Charlotte, the conniving little cow, had taken a bloody photo! A few seconds later she gently eased Jeanette off me, and she slumped, seemingly in a daze, in a corner. Then, with another chuckle, Charlotte showed me the picture on her digital camera. It showed a naked Jeanette laying on top of me, my prick clearly still buried in her, while I strained my neck to lap at Inderjit's pussy and she squeezed her own tits. Charlotte had cleverly managed to cut out the handcuffs on my wrists, so it looked as if I was taking part in this mini orgy entirely of my own free will. The message couldn't have been clearer -- I was now their bitch, and they could do whatever they liked with me.

It was now Inderjit's turn, and she started to move into position. "I want to do her from behind." I'm not sure who was more surprised by my words, delivered in a husky voice, me or the girls. I carried on, "Look, you've got me now, I accept this is going to happen and there's no point in me trying to make a run for it. But if I'm going to screw Inderjit, I want it to be from behind." It wasn't just that I didn't want my aching prick to suffer another assault from above. Having been fascinated by the Sikh girl's big bum for most of the past two years, if I was going to be forced into this I decided I might as well get a good look at it.

Inderjit looked distinctly uncertain at the prospect. She and Charlotte went into a little huddle. I heard Charlotte say, in a stage whisper, "It really is nice that way Indy, trust me. And with a big knob like his it'll be really good, I promise." Incongruously I felt a flash of pride at the compliment my manhood had just been paid. After a further moment Charlotte came and sat on the edge of the mat again. "Okay, that means we're going to have to take the cuffs off. But just remember, Robbie my love, we're still in control here so you'd better be a good boy." I froze as she ran the blunt edge of the craft knife up the length of my cock.

Inderjit unlocked the cuffs while Charlotte tied one leg of an old pair of tracksuit bottoms round my ankle and the other leg round one of the shelf stacks. My erection had flagged a bit with the hiatus, and I caught my breath as Charlotte's soft mouth closed over it. For a minute or so her tongue swirled around my tip in much the same way it had around my ice cream back in Mont Saint Michel. Then, when she was satisfied I was hard enough, she went through the condom routine again and Inderjit, still not looking very sure, knelt on the mat with her bum towards me.

I shuffled up behind Inderjit, grasped her big, cushiony hips in my hands, then rammed my cock hard into her. She gave a huge explosion of breath, like an old fashioned train letting off steam. Then I pulled almost all the way out and set up a slow rhythm of hard strokes, as her huge tits swung below her. Inderjit gasped with every penetration, and matched her breathing to my pace. God, she was a luxurious fuck! I didn't think she was much more experienced than Jeanette, but screwing Inderjit was a very different mater. Her cunt was massive, as hot as a blast furnace and dripping wet, and the feel of that huge silky bottom pressing against me with each thrust was amazing. For the first time since that whole bizarre encounter had begun I was really enjoying myself. I tried to keep up my slow, steady pace but she was such a magnificent lay I just couldn't control myself, and I kept speeding up to get the feel of her lovely arse pressing into me again and her silky, burning pussy wrapping around me. I was glad I'd already cum once, because it meant I could stay inside Inderjit all the longer. After a couple of minutes I reached a hand around her and located her clit, tweaking it between two fingers. She started pressing back against me even more enthusiastically then. I knew she wouldn't last much longer, and she suddenly blurted in her deep rumble, "Oh shit, I'm coming, I'm coming, here it comes, oooohhhh!!!" We achieved the gold standard, with me coming at exactly the same moment as her, then we sank together onto the mat, while I had a last good grope of that bum with my hands and buried my nose in the coarse thick black hair on her head.

I thought Charlotte had taken a few more photos while I shagged Inderjit, but I couldn't be sure. After Indy had clambered out from beneath me, her dark eyes sparkling, Charlotte said crisply, "Okay girls, you can go now. You've had your turns, and I think I can control him from here." Jeanette looked disappointed at this dismissal, Inderjit looked stunned, but without a word of argument they picked up their underwear and left the room.

Charlotte untiled my leg then sat beside me on the low pile of rubber mats and wrapped an arm around my shoulders. She nuzzled my ear with her nose and, speaking tenderly, murmured, "You're not going to run out on me, are you Rob darling?" Before I could answer she had pressed her soft, sweet lips to mine and we were kissing, her tongue roaming every inch of my mouth. I felt her hand wrap around my cock once again as she started to work on getting me back to full firmness. Still kissing me she mumbled, "You haven't got any nasty little diseases or anything, have you?" I shook my head, my nose rubbing against hers. She giggled into my mouth. "Oh good, I don't really like using rubbers, I much prefer bareback."




French Frolics Ch. 02



As we continued to snog, Charlotte lay back on the mat, pulling me down with her until I was lying half on top of her, half next to her. Peering at me through half-closed eyes she breathed, "Robbie, I don't want you to make love to me unless you really, truly want to." To be perfectly honest, at that moment I was feeling so randy I would have fucked the school cat if it was all that was available, never mind a beautiful, naked, eager young blonde dream, who still had her hand wrapped around my dick. I slipped my hand between her legs and slid a couple of fingers inside her, making her gasp. I twiddled around until she was good and wet, then eased myself between her legs, touched my cock against her slit and pushed into her.

Charlotte certainly wasn't a virgin, but neither was she the experienced femme fatale she'd made out to the other girls. As I screwed her, my eyes locked on hers, she bit her lip and pulled little faces, squeaking, sighing and gasping with each thrust of my hips. She laid her feet flat on the mat, her knees rising either side of me. After no more than a couple of minutes she gave a little yelp, her hips twitched and I felt her cum. Then she lay quietly, smiling up at me, as I continued to pound into her. Having already climaxed twice I managed to keep going for several more minutes before it happened again and I collapsed beside her, finally completely spent. Charlotte really was a beautiful girl, and she was a nice enough lay, but...

We had one more session together, in my bed at my home, before she seemed to lose interest in me, the fixation which had apparently been born in Mont Saint Michel having seemingly burnt itself out. To be honest, it didn't bother me too much, as I'd developed a new, er, interest. Inderjit's just arrived, and she's lying on my bed waiting for me right now. Okay, I know I said all that stuff about losing my job if I was caught shagging a pupil, and I still dread to think what her dad would do to me if he found out. But she is one fantastic fuck, and she's so eager and willing to learn. Whenever she's here, grinning over her shoulder at me, her magnificent bum pointing at the ceiling, her meaty thighs wide open for me and her big hairy hotbox winking at me, it seems worth the risk somehow!



French Frolics Ch. 03



My life as a schoolteacher had become quite complicated in recent months. First an 18-year old pupil wanked me out of the blue on a field trip to France. Then she and a couple of her friends chained me up in a shed on the school grounds and took turns fucking me. And as a result of that, I'd started a very passionate, but very dangerous, affair with one of the girls involved. It wasn't just the risk of being caught 'abusing' the pupil-teacher relationship that worried me. Inderjit's dad is this big, muscular local Sikh politician, who wears a ceremonial sword on civic occasions that looks as if it could cut me in half with a single swipe. Indy and I could only see each other once a week outside school to avoid her parents getting suspicious, and when we did we barely wasted time on talking, we just sucked and screwed each other's brains out. She's a big, meaty girl, with the most gorgeous pillowy bum I've ever had the pleasure of licking.

My other problem had been our French teacher, Yvette Mouthillon. I was more or less sure she knew about the wanking incident, and she had started making rather barbed comments about Indy, which made me think she was onto that as well. Whatever else I could say about her, the woman was as sharp as a cut-throat razor. The problem was, she had this deep, girlish crush on me. We're the same age -- 26 -- but she just wasn't my type. I saw her as a little simpering girl, with dark hair, dark eyes, a skinny body, rounded shoulders and big ugly spectacles, not to mention a burgeoning moustache most unbecoming on someone of her age. Like most of my colleagues, I had been polite and friendly towards her when she first joined the school staff, but in my case she had chosen to read entirely too much into it.

I did my best to stay out of her way -- I teach geography, so there wasn't too much connection between our subjects -- but every morning she was in my face in the staff room with a sunny "Good morning Robert", pronounced the French way, 'Robaire'. All my other colleagues call me Rob or Robbie, and I generally just grunted in response and hunched down in a corner with a coffee and the morning paper.

One afternoon, towards the end of the school day, I found a note in my pigeonhole in the staff room: 'Robert, I need to speak to you about something -- in private. This is most urgent. Yvette.' I cursed under my breath. Ever since the French trip I'd been worried she might tell someone about her suspicions as to what happened there, but I was sure she didn't have any proof, and I was counting on her attraction to me stopping her from squealing on me anyway. I screwed the note up and dropped it in a bin, then turned -- and walked straight into la Mouthillon. I manufactured a smile from somewhere, and told her I was sorry but I just didn't have time to meet with her. Her face darkened in anger and she hissed, "Well you'd better find the time, Monsieur Peters. You'd just better, that's all." Then she stalked off.

I'd never seen that side of her before, and something in her voice alarmed me. Surely she couldn't have anything on me, could she? But I thought I'd better make sure, so after school, sighing with reluctance, I made my way up the stairs to the language lab. Yvette was sitting there having a coffee and a laugh with her Spanish counterpart, but the moment I arrived the Spaniard seemed to pick up that there was an atmosphere between us and scuttled off. I closed the door behind her and, just to be on the safe side, turned the key in the lock. Then, adopting a world-weary tone, I said, "Okay Yvette, what is it that's so bloody important that I'm missing my first pint of the day for it?"

She refused to meet my eyes, but said, "I have something I think you need to see Robert", and started laying out some rectangular cards on her desk. I wandered over and felt the blood drain from my face. They were a series of photographs. The first showed me lying on my back, a naked sixth former called Jeanette Adams sprawled on top of me, my prick buried to the hilt in her cunt. At the same time Inderjit, subsequently my lover, was squatting over my face while I licked her out. A conniving little witch called Charlotte Evans had taken the photo. She was the one who'd started the whole thing by tossing me off, and the picture had been taken during the kidnapping of me that she'd organised. My hands were cuffed to shelves on either side of me at the time, but you couldn't see that in the photo, so it just looked like I was having it away quite voluntarily with a couple of pupils.

The next two pictures had been taken that evening too, and showed me kneeling behind Inderjit, who was on all fours as I rammed my cock into her. At that moment I could have killed Charlotte bloody Evans -- she and I had a very brief fling after the evening captured in the photos, and she'd sworn to me that she'd destroyed the pictures. The final two snaps shook me though. They weren't very well taken, and were from quite a distance, but the subject matter was quite clear. The first showed me opening my front door to Inderjit. The second showed Inderjit, framed by my bedroom light, staring out of the bedroom window, topless, her enormous tits clearly visible. Jesus Christ, I thought, what the hell had Indy been doing standing at the window like that? Obviously Yvette had been busy with her camera too, the sneaky little bitch.

Furiously I snatched at the pictures, but Yvette managed to get to them before me. "It's okay, I've got them all set up on my computer at home. I just press one button and, poof, they go to the headmistress, the board of school governors, the local newspaper, Inderjit's papa...."

Sullenly I slumped into the chair behind Yvette's desk. "How the fuck did you get them?" I snarled. "The first three, I mean. Obviously you did your own dirty work for the others."

Yvette pulled a chair out from behind one of the pupils' desks and sat beside me. "Charlotte Evans is a very nice, kind girl. She knew I admired you and she saw how unhappy it was making me. So one day she, erm, what is the term, tipped me the wink as to how I could attract your attention."

That was it -- I really was going to send that evil little Evans cunt to an early grave. How could she do that to me? Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I took a deep breath. "Okay Yvette, what is it you want?" I knew damned well what she wanted from me. It wouldn't have surprised me if I'd learnt she was a virgin. If there was any woman in the school who needed a bloody good rogering, I thought, it was Yvette Mouthillon. But Christ, I really didn't want it to be me who was forced to give it to her.

Her answer surprised me, slightly. "What I want, Robert, is, just for one day, you to be nice to me. I want to be your girlfriend, one you care about very much. I want you to take me for a nice meal, maybe to a show, talk sweetly to me, take me home, and spend the night making love to me, tenderly and adoringly. Just give me a chance for one day. If you never want to see me again after that, okay, I leave you in peace. But be really kind to me just for one day, and I make these pictures disappear for ever, I promise."

I stared at her in disbelief. I actually pitied her in a way. How desperate must she be to resort to this sort of approach? Unable to help myself, I said, "Jesus Christ woman, just think for a minute about what you're doing here."

She stood, and I shuddered in revulsion as she placed a hand on my shoulder. "I know what I'm doing Robert. But when a woman with affection in her heart is continually spurned, not even given the slightest chance to prove herself, sometimes she has to resort to extreme measures." I felt my face form into a vicious scowl. Yvette knelt in front of me and took one of my hands between both of hers. "Please Robert, don't be mean. All I want is one chance. I want us both to have a good time. Perhaps, if you try, we can have fun, and you will find out that, despite this, I am not really such a bad, ugly person after all."

I closed my eyes and thought about the situation. I didn't really see that I had much choice, short of throttling her. Still, if she really did mean just once, then she'd let me off the hook, I was sure I could put up with it. She wanted a fuck, I'd fuck her. After all, as one of my pals at the rugby club sometimes said, at the end of the day one cunt's much like any other, and when you're poking the fire it doesn't really matter what's on the mantelpiece. Taking her totally by surprise, I gave her my best lady-killer smile. "Okay Yvette, I'd love to take you out on a date, and see how it goes. What are you doing this Saturday?" I wasn't surprised to learn she didn't have any plans, and we arranged that I would pick her up at two o'clock. She left the room with a huge beam of delight on her face, and gave me a peck on the cheek. I managed to keep my face from collapsing into disgust and anger until I'd turned the corridor out of her sight.

I had a long lie-in on Saturday morning, trying to steel myself for the day ahead, and hoping nobody I knew would see me and Yvette together. Then, after some toast, strong coffee, a shower and a shave, I dressed in a brand new Lacoste polo shirt and tan slacks, and applied a sweet smelling aftershave. I'd decided that if I was going to do this I was going to do it properly, and make damned sure I got those bloody photos back. Then, I fantasised, I might just beat la Mouthillon to death with her own leg bone, before going in search of Charlotte the harlot. Her I'd torture for a few hours before I killed her. Donning my rugby club blazer I spurned the car in favour of walking to Yvette's address. The coastal town where we live isn't that big, it was a sunny day, and I thought the fresh air would do me good. Besides, I had every intention of getting drunk out of my tiny mind over dinner. Yvette lived on the sixth floor of a council multi-storey block. I took the lift up to her flat and rang the bell at exactly two o'clock. The door opened almost instantly, and I stared in astonishment at a woman I didn't know. 

It took several seconds for me to realise it was Yvette. Her long black hair had been cut to just above her shoulders and looked glossy; her eyebrows had been thinned and shaped; her top lip had been waxed, and the moustache was history; she must have been wearing contact lenses, because her ugly spectacles were absent; and she was nicely made-up with blue eye shadow, mascara, light blusher and ruby red lipstick. I'd never seen her wear make-up at school. She was dressed in a pretty white sleeveless dress printed with big red flowers, instead of her usual black attire. Despite the fact that it was winter she was bare legged, and her small feet were in open-toed sandals, her toenails painted red to match her fingernails and her lipstick. Instead of her usual stooped posture she stood erect, with her shoulders back, and that together with the dress emphasised a decent pair of boobs which I'd never noticed before. I knew my mouth was hanging open, and I managed to mumble, "Hi Yvette, you look, er, nice."

She seemed delighted by my reaction, and gave me a welcoming peck on the cheek. Then she said, "Thank you Robert, I thought you were worth making a special effort for. Oh, are those for me? Thank you again." She took from my limp hand the dozen red roses I'd bought on the way over, and bustled off to find a vase.

The flat had a small balcony, and while I waited I stood on it gazing at the view of the promenade and the sea. I couldn't believe the physical change Yvette had achieved. I pictured her turning up at some beauty salon at dawn and spending the entire morning there. I couldn't understand why, if she was capable of this, she didn't make more effort at work. Okay, I dressed pretty slummily for school, saving my best stuff for my own time; but Yvette's transformation from her normal look was near miraculous. As I heard her move about behind me I reminded myself that this was still the cunning little bitch who was blackmailing me into screwing her. I turned and saw she had pulled on a short red cotton jacket. She smiled shyly at me and said, "Very well Robert, shall we go?"

I'd decided to take her to our local art cinema, as they were showing an Audrey Tautou film, which I thought was appropriate. We walked there saying little, my hands in my pocket, one of Yvette's arms looped through mine. I couldn't help noticing that several men glanced at her with interest as we walked. The film was an English language romance set in the First World War. It was well over two hours long, and quite melodramatic, not really my cup of tea, but Yvette clearly enjoyed it. I had bought her a big tub of popcorn, which she insisted that we share. When it was finished she snuggled up to me, pretty much forcing me to drape an arm around her shoulders. After a few minutes I felt her hand exploring, and I thought for an awful moment she was going to start groping me, right there in the theatre. In fact, it turned out she just wanted to hold my spare hand, which she did for the rest of the show.

After the film we walked through the pedestrian precinct, Yvette still holding my hand, to the restaurant where I'd booked. It was a new one, the classiest and expensive in town. Yvette stopped dead in surprise when she saw where we were going, and pulled at my arm. "Oh no Robert, this is too much, let's go somewhere better priced." I was damned if we were going to go elsewhere. I'd been very lucky to get a table at short notice; anyway, apart from wanting to surprise, and maybe shame, Yvette, I'd been looking for an excuse to treat myself to a meal there anyway. I ordered us champagne cocktails which we sipped while we selected our meals. Naturally, despite my reluctance to be with Yvette, we talked through the meal, and she told me about her past. 

She had enjoyed an idyllic childhood in the heart of rural France, then studied English at a minor university. There had been one passionate but doomed affair there -- "we French, we all have at least one grande tragique romance in our pasts". That took care of the question of her virginity, anyway. After that she had foresworn men for ever. "That was until I first saw you Robert." She fluttered her eyelashes at me as she said that, and I felt myself blushing in embarrassment. She said she had never really bothered with her appearance since then, determining to become a "hard, independent careerist". Having gained her degree she enrolled for teacher training in the UK, and had managed to gain employment at our school. While telling the story she related several funny anecdotes, and I couldn't help laughing -- she has a gift for a comic tale.

During the course of the meal, apart from the cocktails, we polished off a couple of bottles of wine, and a dessert each which was basically a dish of Marsala wine posing as tiramisu. As the waiter brought the vintage cognac I'd ordered to finish off the meal Yvette giggled coquettishly and, in a stage whisper, said, "Rob, you're not trying to get me drunk are you?" It was the first time she hadn't called me 'Robaire'. As I felt her bare toes stroke my ankle I reflected that it had been my intention to get myself smashed, yet despite having matched Yvette drink for drink I still felt stone cold sober. A few minutes later I felt a desire for a really strong drink as the bill arrived!

When we left the restaurant Yvette said, "I don't want us to go back to my place Rob. Let's go to your house." I had a momentary panic, trying to remember what state of untidyness I'd left it in. We strolled along the promenade for a while, under the multi-coloured fairy lights, the sea breeze gently ruffling our hair and carrying the faint sounds of a Wurlitzer organ being played on the pier. Our arms were linked and Yvette was leaning against me. As a particularly cold blast struck us she shivered. I slipped an arm around her shoulders and flagged down a taxi. After all, Yvette was bare-legged, and wearing only a very thin jacket. She snuggled into my armpit in the cab, and I found myself nuzzling her hair.

Thankfully my place was reasonably tidy, although I recalled that I hadn't changed the bedclothes for over a week. I suddenly felt unaccountably nervous -- after all, this was the moment the entire afternoon and evening had been leading up to. Yvette stood, a little unsteadily, in the centre of the lounge and draped her jacket over the arm of a chair. I asked her if she'd like a coffee or something. She giggled, "I'd like 'or something'." She took a step towards me and put her arms around my waist. I jumped as her hands lightly grasped my butt cheeks. "What I'd like, Rob darling, is you to take me upstairs, to your bedroom, take off my clothes, and make love to me."

I took her hand and, as she asked, led her up the stairs. I felt dazed and confused. My original intention had been to grit my teeth and get this over with as quickly as possible, for the sole reason of getting those sodding photos off my back and the blackmailing bitch out of my hair. Now I wasn't sure how I felt. I couldn't deny, to myself at least, that it had actually been quite a pleasant afternoon, and Yvette had been agreeable company. Now I was about to sleep with her. I was no longer sure whether I would be doing it because that was the agreement, or because I actually wanted to.

On the landing Yvette slipped off her sandals and padded barefoot ahead of me into my bedroom, smiling at the sight of my double bed (ever the hopeful bachelor!). She stood before me as I slowly unbuttoned her dress and pushed it off her shoulders, to fall to the floor. She was wearing extremely sexy underwear - a white silk half-cup bra with lace trimmings, over which her deep brown nipples peeped shyly, and a matching G-string which left little to the imagination. I suddenly felt as nervous as a teenager on his first date, and I was aware of a definite stirring of interest in my pants.

I leaned into Yvette and kissed her softly on the lips as I reached around her and unclipped the bra. She took me by surprise, throwing her arms around my neck and mashing her lips to mine, her tongue forcing its way into mine and exploring. I stepped back to gaze at her naked boobs. They really were attractive -- very pale pink, with those long contrasting nips. I moved to remove her panties but she stopped me. Reaching out she pulled my polo shirt over my head, and trailed a finger through my chest hair. Then she knelt in front of me and undid my slacks, pushing them down my legs. I felt her run a finger up the outside of my underpants, tracing the outline of my now semi-erect cock. She rested her head against my stomach for a moment and breathed, "Oh my God, I can't believe that this is actually happening." I knew how she felt, as my pants followed my trousers to the floor. Mechanically I lifted my feet, allowing Yvette to entirely remove my remaining clothes. When she stood I saw that she slid off her G-string and, naked, we faced each other, each taking in the body of our soon-to-be lover.

Yvette gave a little giggle and jumped -- literally -- onto my bed: the same bed where, three nights earlier, I had had my face buried between Inderjit Kaur's teenage thighs. I noticed that Yvette's pubes had had a Brazilian wax -- undoubtedly especially for this occasion - leaving just a small strip of black hair adorning her pubis. As she gazed up at me, completely relaxed with her nakedness, I had to admit that whatever her makeover had cost, it had been money well spent: the ugly duckling had been truly transformed into a most beautiful swan.

My heart racing with nerves, I joined her on the bed. I hesitated for a moment, not sure where to put my hand, then rested it on her side, a few inches below her left breast as we kissed, more gently than before, our tongues meeting each other hesitantly. I could still taste the cognac from the restaurant on hers. Gradually, as the kiss warmed up, my hand drifted across Yvette's cool skin until it cupped her tit. She sighed happily into my mouth. A moment later I gasped into hers as her fingers tickled my scrotum then wrapped around my cock. She broke the kiss and, with a little giggle, whispered, "Hello, big boy."




French Frolics Ch. 03



My cock hardened instantly in Yvette's hand. I began to ease her onto her back but she resisted. "Not yet darling. First I want to lick your lollipop." I lay back as she stroked her lips down my body, sucking each of my nipples, and nibbling at the soft skin of my lower belly. Finally, she reached my cock, not immediately taking it into her mouth, but first blowing a stream of cool breath up and down my length. I was surprised how sexy I found that, then my eyes closed with pleasure as her soft lips closed over the tip of my dick. She sucked it for a few moments then plucked her lips off me, running her tongue lightly down the underside of my shaft in a swirling motion.

Over the next few minutes Yvette did some amazing things with her lips, tongue and fingertips, quickly brining me close to cumming. But before I got there she released my cock. I groaned in frustration, but she shooshed me. Then she started to tease all around my prick -- my belly, my scrotum, my inner thighs, the area between my balls and my arse, and my backside itself. She kissed, licked, sucked, nibbled, stroked, tickled...when she eased two fingers into my anal passage and started working them around inside me I was amazed how erotic I found it. The overall effect of her attentions was to keep me hard but let my closeness to orgasm ebb back slightly, like a tide rolling back down the beach, only to inevitably surge back up it in due course.

Three or four times Yvette did that to me, taking me to the very edge then easing off. It gave me the most incredible feelings of arousal, but at the same time it was excruciating. Finally, when I was on the point of begging her to let me cum, she wrapped her lips around me again and started mouth-fucking me, one hand pumping the base of my cock and the other gently massaging my scrotum. It took only a few seconds of that before, with a huge burst of breath, I erupted like a volcano into her mouth. She made a show of swallowing, then lay on top of me, grinning into my face. "Oh my Robbie, what a big amount of juice. I hope there's plenty more where that came from, we have a long night ahead of us." We kissed for a few minutes while I played with Yvette's breasts and she kneaded my cock, then she pushed me onto my back. "And now, my love, I fuck you." 

As she swung her leg across me I watched nervously. The last female to ride me had been a teenage virgin, who'd gyrated around so much it felt as if she was trying to tear my cock off. However, I'd already had ample evidence that Yvette knew what she was doing. With her hand she slowly fed the tip of my prick into her cunt, then plunged down on me, scooching around a bit to make herself comfortable. Then she proceeded to give me the most amazing fuck of my life to that point. She pumped slowly up and down on me, her hands massaging my chest and belly, her eyes closed in concentration, whispering, seemingly to herself, "Oui, baise-moi cheri." (that's "fuck me" I later learned.) 

It was what she did with her vagina that was extraordinary though. Her muscular control was astonishing, and it felt as if she was actually massaging my dick with her labia and the walls of her pussy, clutching tightly around me, varying the pressure she exerted even in the course of sliding up and down me. Even though it created the most intense sexual feelings I could ever remember, she somehow managed to keep me going far longer than was normal for me. I have no idea where or how she developed her technique, but if she could teach it she'd be a rich woman! By the time I felt my orgasm building I was half-delirious with lust. Just as I started to cum Yvette began to surge up and down on me, screaming further obscenities in French. We came at exactly the same time, with fireworks exploding in my head and my hips bucking a foot off the bed as my cock tried to maintain deep contact with her wonderful cunt. Afterwards I sank back into the bed, my entire body trembling as if I'd just suffered an electric shock. Yvette pitched forward onto my chest, kissed me on the nose and whispered breathlessly, "There, Robbie my love, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

I was still stiff inside her, and still feeling incredibly aroused. I flipped her on her back and, as she squealed with laughter, I threw all my remaining strength into pounding into her again, thrusting to the hilt with fast strokes. I didn't last long that time, but Yvette waved her legs in the air with joy as I fucked her, screaming "Oh oui oui oui!" as I came.

Some time later I was awoken from drowsing by Yvette easing her body out from beneath me. I glanced at the clock -- it was the middle of the night. As I heard her gathering her clothes together I leaned up on one elbow and asked what she was doing. Avoiding looking at me, she said, "It is time I go now Robert. Thank you for giving me the best day of my life, I will always remember it."

My mouth dropped open in shock. I heard myself stutter, "Yvette, you can't go, not now."

Sighing, she turned to face me, and I saw her make-up had been smeared with tear tracks. "Robert, you've been very sweet to me, but you don't have to do this anymore. I've had a truly wonderful day, and you were far nicer than I had a right to expect -- but I know you didn't want to do it. I am so sorry for what I did -- it was repellent and evil. I swear, I would never have really used those photos to hurt you. I'm going home now to destroy them once and for all. You have nothing more to fear."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Bugger the photos, I don't care about them anymore. Yvette, please, stay with me. I've had a brilliant time too, and I want you here, with me. I really do."

Yvette looked very sad. "Robert, I am so much in love with you it hurts me physically to be near you at school every day. But as much as I love you, I don't think you can give me what I need from you. I'm pleased you have enjoyed me, but I don't want to become just your little fuck buddy. I need more than that, and it is not fair of me to demand it from you."

My rational mind had long since ceased to function; I let my heart speak for me. "It's not just the sex, I mean that was amazing, obviously, but...I don't want a fuck buddy, I want Yvette Patrice Mouthillon, the sweet, beautiful, intelligent, funny girl I've spent the last 12 hours with. You were right before, I've never given you a chance. Now that I've given myself a chance to get to know you, I can't believe how stupid I've been for the last year not allowing myself to be with you every moment of every day. I love you Yvette, and I don't want you to go away from me, ever."

Now it was her jaw which dropped in astonishment. She sat on the bed and stared at me in wonderment. "Robbie, please, if you are just saying this to get me to stay the night, please tell me. It would hurt me too much if you were just playing with me, I don't think I could take that."

Desperate to convince her now, I wrapped my hands around one of hers. I half-whispered, "Yvette, look into my eyes. I have never been more serious in my life than right now. I love you, and if I can't convince you not to leave now I think my heart will break." 

At that tears streamed down her face, and her smile lit up the room. Wiping her eyes with her forearm, she swung into the bed and snuggled up to me, murmuring, "Oh Robbie darling, I love you so very, very much."

*

Postscript

Yvette stayed the rest of the night, and most of Sunday. At work on the Monday she was back to her usual image -- black clothes, no make-up, those plain glasses -- but there was a new radiance about her that nobody in the staff room could fail to notice. We had agreed to keep our relationship a secret until we were sure of each other -- well, until Yvette was sure of me, anyway -- but every time I saw her I found it difficult not to take her in my arms and kiss her. After a couple of days my best friend among our colleagues, Shirley Stringer, who knew about Yvette's crush on me, joked to me, "Looks like la Mouthillon has finally found someone to give her a good seeing to. It's not you is it 'Robaire'?" I laughed off the suggestion while not actually answering it.

A couple of weeks later we let it casually slip that we were now living together. Poor Shirley nearly choked on her coffee when she heard that! She cornered me and demanded all the gory details, but I adopted an unaccustomed gentlemanly discretion and left out most of the details. Of course, I'd immediately ended my affair with Inderjit. I told her she should concentrate on qualifying for the university place she'd been offered in far-away Manchester, and forget about me. She's always been quite a stoic girl and she took it well, and we remained friends in the classroom, which was nice.

With my help, Yvette's gradually changing her image at school: brighter colours, designer spectacles, a touch of tasteful make-up, and so on. We're engaged now. I've introduced her to my parents -- they adore her -- and we're planning to visit her family in the summer. She's teaching me to speak French properly in preparation for that. Even now, I find it incredible that my life has changed so much in such a short timeframe. I'd never previously met a woman I could even vaguely imagine growing old with; but now, I think my heart really would break if I couldn't spend the rest of my life with Yvette Mouthillon.