0 comments/ 95191 views/ 6 favorites A French Connection By: Norfolk Boy To say that Peter was a Francophile was probably an exaggeration but he did like France and had spent a lot of time there on business, albeit mainly in and around Paris. But Paris wasn't the real France - not the beautiful rural part of central France oft overlooked by the once-a-year visitor and on the few occasions he had managed a couple of days away in this heartland, he had been seduced by its space, quiet and natural beauty. He was particularly fortunate because his forays into the French countryside had been made possible because his sister and her husband had bought a cottage in a tiny hamlet deep in the Creuse Valley several years ago and, although it still required quite a lot of work, it was habitable and reasonably comfortable. Despite the success of his business, life had recently dealt Peter a bitter blow. The endless business travelling that he had to do almost certainly contributed to his break up with Sara and when his five-year affair ended he was devastated, even though he had seen it coming. His relationship had been intensely passionate and like all wild fires had burned itself out after the first three years and had smouldered on for a further two before he finally conceded that it was at an end. His only sibling saw his distress and suggested he take a long break - four, perhaps six weeks and to use their cottage in France to sort himself out. He could pay his way by doing some of the many little jobs that still needed doing around the place. At first Peter rejected the notion, but gradually came to see the sense of it, so he spoke with his business partner and agreed a sabbatical, packed a few personal items and set off for Dover. Ten hours later he turned off his car ignition outside the cottage - it would have been eight hours only the traffic going through Paris had been horrendous. The small grey stone building stood on the side of a grassy slope above a lane that was so narrow it barely allowed the single file passage of cars. With a dense wood as a backdrop, it brooded darkly in the sunset, its interior guarded against the world by firmly closed rough oak shutters. Taking the house keys that his sister had given him, he got out of his car and approached the front door and unlocked, first the shutter, then the door itself and entered the single unlit room that was the entire downstairs of the dwelling. The temperature inside was several degrees cooler than the balmy evening air outside and Peter shivered as he picked up the conveniently placed torch which he used to find his way to the main power switch. Once he had switched on the lights, he turned on the water and plugged in the fridge. Then, to make the house hospitable he lit a small wood fire in the expansive nineteenth century grate. He collected his bags, a box of groceries and a single Duty Free bag from the car and disposed of them appropriately, the latter, he placed on the large solid dining table that formed the centre-piece of the room. With everything stowed away he collected a fine cut-glass tumbler from the cabinet, the duty free bag from the dining table and slumped wearily into a chair by a fire that had flared up joyously while he had been unpacking. From the plastic bag, he took out the bottle of single malt whiskey that he had purchased on the boat and poured himself a large measure. He sipped the pale liquid and watched the fire flicker as he let his brain unwind and the tension of the journey fade. He napped for a couple of hours before he finally capitulated and made his way to bed where he slept the sleep of the dead for ten full hours. ***** By the time he rose the sun had climbed high in the sky and the day was already warm. He ate a large omelette and drank a pot full of coffee for his breakfast before embarking on his first task - a visit to the local town for fresh bread and a couple of other essentials before starting on his list of 'chores'. A couple of hours later he had collected his bread, cut the lawn and trimmed the hedge and was now, dressed only in his shorts and sandals, perspiring gently as he energetically cut logs for the fire. His first sight of her was just a glimpse - or rather a flash of bright colour through the garden hedge. He stopped and watched as the colours moved along the hedge until they eventually reached the gate where the hedge parted and he had his first full view of her. She was a dazzlingly beautiful young women - slim, well shaped and with a glorious cascade of corn-coloured hair that danced about her head as she, almost skipped, along. Her dress was plainly cut and rustic - brightly coloured and very, very 'country'. As she passed by she looked sideways at him, not by turning her head, but out of the corner of her eye, determined to see him and that he had noticed her, but without acknowledging him in any way. A perfect coquette. Peter just stood and stared, but in seconds, she was gone, leaving, like the Cheshire cat, only her enigmatic smile hanging in the air. He worked on until he was hungry and stopped for a light lunch of bread, cheese and rather more chilled Beaujolais that he should have drunk. Then, shaded by the large green canopy of an apple tree, he reclined his seat and slipped away into a gentle sleep to dream of the beautiful young girl he had seen earlier. He was awakened by the sound of a woman's voice, " Monsieur, Monsieur." He opened his eyes and she was there - the same woman - but why was she was older? Her hair had grey streaks mixed with the gold and it was shorter - she was shorter and was wearing another dress? A silly thought went through his mind - had he slept for years like Rip van Winkle? Rubbing sleep from his eyes and looking at her again he could see that she wasn't actually the same woman - they were very alike, but this was someone else. "Bonjour! Mademoiselle," he stammered in French with his thick English accent She grinned and corrected him, " Madam." "Pardon, Madam," he looked sheepish having almost exhausted his limited French vocabulary. Thankfully, she continued in broken, but understandable English, "You might like these, I think. A gift of welcome," She offered him a bowl containing fresh eggs and a jug of milk. When the mist of sleep had completely cleared in his mind he remembered that the lady here before him lived with her husband in the farmhouse that he had passed as he entered the lane. The chickens he had scattered as he drove by would have been responsible for these eggs. He knew also, that the couple had become firm friends to his sister and brother. "You are the brother of Jane, No?" He stood up and smiled, took the eggs and milk, placed them on the table and offered her his hand. She took it and shook it warmly as he said, "Please call me Peter and thank you so much for these. Let me offer you a drink," but before he had completed his sentence she had decline politely with a wave of her hand. They looked at each other awkwardly and after a silence that lasted a few seconds too long she spoke again, "My husband, he ask me to invite you to eat with us tomorrow evening?" Peter eagerly accepted her offer - motivated by the prospect of not having to cook for himself - and she seemed delighted. "OK, we see you tomorrow then?" and with that she turned and left, looking back only to wave as she left the garden. "What a lovely woman," thought Peter as he sat down again and poured another half glass of wine. ****** Despite the fine weather on the following day, Peter busied himself indoors until the time came for him to shower and change. Around seven o'clock he dressed casually, if expensively and walked the half mile or so down the lane carrying his gift of one of the finest wines from his sister's wine rack. The farmhouse was set quite a long way back from the road and the front door was approached through a tidy if sparse, garden. Before he reached it, the door was opened by the fair lady from the day before and behind her stood a man with his hand affectionately placed on her shoulder - clearly her husband. Peter's hosts insisted that he call them Marie and Andre and they both welcomed him into their home as if he were an old friend. With the greetings over he was taken through to a cosy, if somewhat gloomy, living room and offered a seat and a drink. It was a little early for his usual drink, Scotch, so he accepted a Pastis and water knowing that the ice and water would dilute the aniseed spirit by about the right amount. He was also aware that few French homes were without this unusual aperitif. As he sat and sipped his drink, his appetite was tantalised by the wonderful aroma of Maria's cooking as it wafted through from the kitchen and hung in the air of the farmhouse. He was, therefore, delighted when he was asked to take his place at one of the four places set around the large table. "Please to take some paté, Peter," invited Marie as he sat, indicating a large tureen in the middle of the table. "Odette will join us soon." "Odette?" he queried. "Mais oui - our daughter," she glanced proudly towards her husband who nodded enthusiastically. The reason for the four place settings now becoming clear. He helped himself to a generous potion of paté and spread it on a slice of the crusty bread that he had cut and had just swallowed his first mouthful when Odette entered. He would have sworn that, had he not already swallowed the food, it would have fallen from his mouth as his jaw fell open. She was absolutely stunning and he recognised her at once as the vision that had drifted past his gate on the previous day - except that now she looked even more beautiful than he remembered and she lit up the dismal kitchen like a golden sunbeam. Marie saw his reaction and smiled at her husband. "This is Odette, Peter." She turned to Odette and said, "Odette, this is Peter - he is staying at the cottage of Jane for a few weeks - he is her brother" Peter stood, his napkin fell from his lap and took her small hand, afraid to shake it least it detach itself from her arm and said, "Bonjour, mammoiselle." "Welcome to La Creuse, Peter. Please sit down." she replied in faultless English and he sat, finding himself even more impressed with this beautiful young women. She took a place opposite him and he held her gaze whilst he fumbled for his fallen napkin, but finally asked, "I've been here several times in the last few years, although only for odd days, but I have never met you before, Odette?" Her eyes were like her mothers - a fierce azure blue that stirred every romantic nerve ending he possessed. Her lips pouted slightly and her even white teeth flashed as she grinned before replying, "I have been at school in Paris until this year." Her mother, keen to boast about her daughter's achievements, ventured, "She has been studying English and has now, a degree." Odette blushed and her parents beamed. As the meal progressed Peter found himself staring for quite indiscreetly long periods of time at this delightful young women. He could not remember being in the presence of anyone more beautiful and was completely smitten with her - so much so, that it was some time before he was able to string a coherent sentence together. Nevertheless, as the evening progressed, despite her beauty and excellent English, he felt that there was a vulnerability - almost a naivety, about her - a sadness that somehow added to her attraction. His awkwardness with their daughter amused Marie and Andre and, as the meal came to an end, they served Peter a large Cognac and quietly disappeared to wash the dishes. Peter was left alone with Odette and they chatted like old friends until the time came to say goodnight. Somehow, he felt like a teenager on his first date who had been invited to dinner specifically to meet Odette. If that was the case, then it was all right by him. He rose from his chair, "I must go, I know farmers rise early and I'm keeping your parents up. Where have they gone by the way?" "Mama! - Papa!" she shouted, " Peter, il parte" No sooner had she spoken than they both appeared - Marie wiping her hands on her apron. Peter turned to them, " I must thank you for splendid meal, Marie and a wonderful evening. You must allow me to return the favour although please do not expect such fine cooking." Marie laughed and Andre patted his shoulder taking his outstretched hand and shaking it firmly. Peter, hoping he remembered his French etiquette correctly, took Marie's hand and kissed both her cheeks before turning to Odette. He took both of her hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes. "Good night, Odette. Thank you for a wonderful evening and I am sure that we will meet again soon." It was Odette who leaned forward to plant a chaste kiss on Peter's cheek that he returned feeling tiny sparks jump between them as his lips brushed her warm flesh. The pressure, as she squeezed his hand, told him that she also thought that they would meet again soon. **** The next day the weather had changed. It was overcast and windy and dark clouds scurried by overhead - but it was dry. By mid afternoon Peter was pruning the fruit trees when Odette appeared at the gate. She stopped and leaned against it, watching him toil dressed, once again, in only his shorts and sandals. He was a fine man, tall athletic and handsome and, as she watched him stretch and the muscles ripple across his broad back, a part of her became a little moist. "Bonjour, Peter," she shouted after a few moments of watching him. He turned, saw her and stopped what he was doing, "Hi there!" He walked over to the gate. She was dressed in another country outfit only this time it was pure white and, unlike yesterday, she carried a parasol. He pointed to this, "Very Parisian," he joked, "only it looks like rain." "Mais non," she replied, "In La Creuse, the weather, it is always changing. These clouds will blow away." They passed pleasantries for a few more minutes and then she bade him au revoir and skipped on down the lane. Peter watched her until she had turned the bend then returned to his pruning. However, he was right. Within ten minutes the sky turned black and the first large droplets of rain fell. He hurried into the house and stood watching the downpour through the small window at the rear wondering where Odette may be sheltering. Such rain? Surely it could not rain this hard for this long? With the onset of rain the temperature had dropped and, although not really cold, there was a chill in the air so, with the evening only an hour away, he decided to light the already prepared fire. He had made a pot of coffee and was sat drinking it and watching the flames as they danced around the dry logs when there was a rap on the door - not an 'Oh hello, I was just passing' knock, but a 'for goodness sake let me in' knock. He reached the door in three strides and pulled it open wide. Odette stood there absolutely drenched, still holding her absurd parasol. “You were right,” she almost cried. He pulled her inside and she stood, dripping on the tile floor. "Why on earth didn't you take shelter?" "I thought that I would make it home," she whimpered, close to tears. He took the parasol from her, shook it and leaned it against the wall then ran upstairs and returned with a couple of large bath towels and one of his sisters bath robes. “Here,” he said holding them out towards her and then noticed, for the first time, that the rain had made her white dress semi-transparent allowing him to gaze upon her almost naked slim form. The wet cotton clung to every curve of her body and her dark tipped breasts thrust forward against the wet cloth. The material hugged her hips and dipped between her legs giving him a glimpse of the darker triangle inside her equally soaked panties. She saw him looking and took the towels, holding them against herself coyly. “Where shall I change?" she asked, looking down at the swelling pool of water around her feet. “I’ll go upstairs and you can change by the fire.” replied Peter. “There is no need for that,” she replied, then noticed how his jaw dropped open again. She smiled at his obviously wrong assumption and, with a raised eyebrow and a cheeky grin, said, “You only need to turn around if you promise not to look.” He stuttered his promise then added, "I’ll pour you a coffee.” He turned towards the small kitchenette in the corner of the large room and walked over to the stove. Seconds later he heard the sound of wet cotton sliding over wet flesh and felt a wave of glorious agony in the pit of his stomach. A quiet plop told him that she had dropped her sodden dress onto the floor and his imagination told him that she would now be standing naked next to the fire. The agony in his stomach dropped into his groin and he discretely re-adjusted himself. Rustling sounds came from behind him as she dried herself on the fluffy towels until finally she said, “You can turn around now.” He had expected a vision and he was not disappointed. She sat on the settee in front of the fire wearing Jane’s oversized robe with one of the towels wrapped around her head, so that her beautiful face, glowing pink in the firelight, peeked out from a ball of white fluffy cotton. He can’t remember whether it was then or when he had first seen her in the lane that he had fallen in love with her, but now, all his thoughts were of her - and he was very ashamed by the rather erotic content of some of those thoughts! He handed her a hot cup of coffee that she took in both hands and nursed, pulling her legs up underneath her. "I'll dry these. If I give them a spin and hang them by the fire - they will take no time at all." He picked up her dress leaving her panties on the floor. He looked at them, then at her and she smiled a most mischievous smile. He stooped to collect the tiny garment with a kind of reverence and then deposited both in the washing machine. After several futile attempts to get the machine going, Odette got up. "Here allow me." She brushed him aside, deftly set the machine and pushed the 'ON' button causing the thing to burst into life. "Damm things!" he swore. She giggled and sat back down and began to dry her hair. He collected his coffee and joined her on the settee completely bereft of anything to say. Here sat a mature, experienced man of twenty-six totally tongue-tied in the presence of this lovely young women. Finally it was she who broke the silence. "How long is your stay, Peter?" "I don't know - four, maybe five weeks," he answered but in his mind he added, "for ever if I could spend it here with you like this," then asked, "And you? When do you return to Paris?" "Oh, I have finished my studies - now I must find work." She said aloud but thought, "or spend my life with a gorgeous man like you." "What do you want to do?" he asked. "I would like to fall into your arms and have you smother me with love and be very, very naughty with me," she thought (in French), but answered, " I would like to teach English in a good French school, I think." "What a waste," he thought and answered," I'm sure you would make an excellent teacher." Her hair was almost dry now and had returned to its glorious shining corn colour. She shook it one last time and it flowed about her head like the yellow flames that danced on the logs. In shaking her head, her robe fell open just enough to allow him a delightful view of her pert young breasts jiggling playfully inside. He tried not to stare, particularly as she was looking at him and had seen that he had seen. She looked away so as not to embarrass him but felt the beginnings of desire deep within her. She re-adjusted her position on the settee and for an oh-so-brief second or two showed his hungry eyes her soft upper thighs. A French Connection Was she teasing him or encouraging him - he had to know? He leaned a little towards her as he spoke. "Do you have a boyfriend, Odette?" She leaned a little towards him and replied, "Why do you ask?" "Oh, it seems unlikely that a young woman as ..well.. as beautiful as you should be alone." Their faces were now inches apart and they stared into each other's eyes. "I have never had a boyfriend - I went to a very strict school - a convent school and we were not allowed to see boys at all." He could hardly believe it - was she telling him that she was still a virgin? Her body language was telling him that she wanted to be kissed, he could be wrong but would never know if he didn't try. He leaned the last few inches between them and brushed her lips with his. She closed her eyes and remained still so he kissed her again only this time with more passion. She responded enthusiastically and before he knew what was happening to him she was in his arms with her own arms wound tightly around his neck. Her soft lips parted and her lithe tongue searched out his own and so they remained for ages. When he pulled away he said, "I have wanted to do that since the moment I saw you." She sighed and told him she felt the same. "What now?" he asked finally. She replied simply, "Now, I want you to show me how to make love." As she spoke she pulled at the belt that held her robe together and let it fall apart revealing her exquisite body. Peter's heart leaped, she was perfect. What he had see before had been like looking at her through frosted glass, now her wonderfully fit twenty year old body was inches away from him. He could feel her warmth and smell her simple natural scent. He sat and looked at her for ages before saying, " You are more beautiful than I could ever have imagined." Then he stretched out his arm and stroked, with the lightness of a feather, her face, then her neck and then down to her small, but very firm, breasts, which he lifted gently and squeezed lightly in his palms. His fingers continued down, crossing the flat cool skin of her stomach to reach the downy mound between her legs. The hair there was as fine as spun silk and he twirled it between his fingers, but with the sexual tension rising inside him he needed to hold her and he gathered her into his arms. She may have been a virgin and a little unsure as to what to do next, but she placed her small hand on his aroused penis and whispered in his ear, "Everything, I want you to show me everything." He dropped his face into her open robe to search out the hard nipples on her young breasts and suckle them like a hungry lamb at its mother's teat - filling his head with the scent and the texture of her smooth yielding skin. He licked and sucked, taking a whole breast into his mouth to bathe with his tongue - forcing her to experience the same primeval feeling of lust that was driving him. It was as if every suck of her nipples triggered tiny twinges of ecstasy between her legs and only by moving her legs apart was she able to relieve the pressure on her swelling pussy. She could feel herself becoming damp, then wet, and then she was oozing tiny droplets of honey that ran down the inside of her thighs and onto the settee cover. How many nights had she lain awake, her hands roaming over her soft warm body imagining that they were the hands of an ardent lover. How many times had she squeezed and fondled her own breasts wishing that it was the urgent mouth of some young Adonis that she was feeling. She threw back her head and revelled in the sensation, stroking the thick hair on Peter's head. Peter meanwhile, although absorbed with pleasuring her glorious breasts noticed that she had parted her legs and knew that her need extended further. He kissed down her stomach until he reached the thin covering of blond hair that grew on her small mound like a yellow haze. She lay back and without a shred of shyness, lifted a leg and draped it over the back of the settee, exposing herself to his eyes. Like the rest of her, her pussy was beautiful. It had grown and opened like a deep pink flower with petals moistened by the dew of love and, although Peter had not yet delved inside, he knew it to be a virgin flower waiting for the arrival of its first bee. Peter knew as he dropped his head into her warm cleft that his was going to be the first tongue to lap these lips and that his fingers would be the first, other than her own, to stroke in and out of her wetness. He hovered over her and blew gently all over her swollen lips causing her to raise herself up to greet him. The scent of her warm opening honed his already rigid penis into a tool-steel weapon waiting to enter battle. The first long trawl of his tongue from her anus to the tight little front slit made her groan with pleasure. The second made her legs weak and by the time Peter has licked her a dozen or more times she was close to cumming. He stopped licking and inserted a finger, sawing it in and out along the back of her slit and then resumed his oral attention to her, now very prominent, clitoris. She screamed and bucked as his magic lips fondled her pink sentinel, grasping his head and pulling him deep into her crotch. He, having taken a lungful of air, continued to use his mouth to suck and squeeze her twitching vagina and was rewarded by having his face coated liberally with her juices. She had given herself orgasms before but nothing that vibrated and ravaged her nerve endings like this one. It seemed to go on and on before finally subsiding into a warm throbbing sensation that left her sated and breathing deeply - hovering in that sublime state somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. He felt her relax and moved up between her legs to rest his head on her tummy where he lay listening to her breathing and feeling the tension drain from her body. He knew she had recovered when he felt her stroking his hair and he raised his face to look into her eyes. She smiled and mouthed the words, "Merci. Je t'aime." He kissed her stomach and sat up to ask, "Would you like some wine?" "Non!" she replied quietly, moving herself into a sitting position and laying her head against his shoulder. She began to stroke the fine hairs on his chest with her slim fingers and it was whilst daydreaming that she noticed the tent in his shorts and the small damp patch at its apex. "Peter I am sorry. I am so selfish." She dropped her hand to grasp him. "What is it like this… 'thing'. Please show me your …. you know?" He stood up between her and the fire dressed only in the shorts and sandals that he had been working in and kicked off the shoes. As his hands went to his belt, she said, "No, let me," and pulled his hand away. Her tiny fingers trembled as she fumbled, first with his belt and then with the fly fastener. Eventually she managed to open them enough to allow the shorts to drop to the floor leaving him with an even larger tent in his underclothes, which had an even bigger wet patch at the front. She looked up and smirked then looked back to his shorts as she carefully slipped a thumb into the waistband and slowly pushed them down. His cock remained trapped in the garment until it was part way down his thigh before it became untangled and sprang back to stand proud and rigid before him. She gasped and held her hands to her mouth as his penis flicked back into position. "Are they all this big?" she whispered incredulously. He replied with a parody from Little Red Riding Hood, "All the better to love you with my dear." She didn't understand but laughed anyway. "Can I touch it." "As long as you don't damage it, you can do whatever you want to it - but remember - it is loaded." He grinned and she held out her hand and clasped her slim little fingers around it. "It is so hard and yet soft and warm - all at the same time," she seemed surprised and squeezed it. Peter rolled his eyes upwards, but stood still, enjoying her attention. She seemed fascinated by it and traced her fingernails up and down the length, pressing the veins and bulges then, seeing the clear liquid oozing from its tip, asked, "What is that?" "They call it precum - it’s a lubricant so that it will not hurt when I push it inside you." "Are you going to push all this inside me?" she said with a startled expression breaking out on her cherub face. "I sincerely hope so," he smiled, "but don't worry when the time comes you will want me to put it inside so much that it will slip in very easily and you will only feel a little stab of pain when it makes you a woman." She grinned again and spread the precum all around the head of his cock making it glisten in the firelight, then she started to masturbate him again with her tiny fist even though her fingers were unable to completely surround his girth. She leaned forward and smelled him, then tasted him with a lick of her tongue. "You have pleased me with your mouth, now I will please you." Opening her generous lips, she engulfed the end of his penis with them until they were stretched taught and her cheeks filled. Then she sucked - oh! and how she sucked! Never taking more that a few inches of his stiff prick into her mouth she treated him to a knee-trembling blowjob, the like of which he had never experienced before and he soon found himself approaching his orgasm. Just when he thought he was about to cum she pull it from her mouth and asked, "How will I know when you have finished?" "You really don't know, Odette?" stammered Peter. "Mais non, Peter." "Just keep doing what you are doing with your hand and you will see." She began wanking him again with one strong little hand and fondling his balls with her other one. "Oh! I think it is getting even bigger," she said without stopping, but Peter had entered the twilight zone. His buttocks clamped together and he groaned loudly and ejaculated, spurting his seed into orbit before it fell back to earth across Odette's tanned shoulders and breasts. She jumped in surprise, but held on tightly to his throbbing prick even though her hand was covered in his semen. A second and third spurt partly covered her chest but mostly ended up on the tiled floor. She was delighted and squealed with joy. Peter wanted to sit down. "Now I've finished," he said, then slumped down beside her on the settee and kissed her. "Thank you, " he said at last. "I'm sorry I covered you in…that." She was still kneeling before him, naked and covered in his semen. "So that is what happens when men finish?" it was a rhetorical question. "Yes, that was me having an orgasm - messy business eh?" they smiled together. "We should have caught it, yes?" she asked wiping herself with one of the towels. "Next time we will," he assured her. "I thought you might want to see what happens when a man cums." "Oh yes - it was - what is the word - spectacle, no - spectacular, that is it - spectacular." They laughed and she asked again, Do you always make that much juice?" "It's not juice it is semen and, no, there was a lot because it has been a long time since - you know." She grinned again. "Has it made some more yet?" she reached into his lap and took hold of his half-erect penis, "C'est flasque," she said as she stretched it like an elastic band. "He's having a nap before his next task" "Will he wake if I sit on him?" and with that she giggled, stood up and straddled his legs, lowering herself into his lap. She rubbed the fleshy lips of her moist pussy up and down the length of his cock until he groaned and held her sides, pushing her down onto his groin. His sleeping partner awoke, stretching and stiffening against her wet crevice. She giggled again, "He wants to go inside, I think." "Do you want him to go inside, Odette?" "Oh yes, Peter - from the moment I saw it I wondered how it would feel to have it buried deep inside me." "Well then before we send him on his travels we have to prepare him." "What do you mean?" "Grab my wallet from over there, will you" he said pointing to a coffee table close by. She complied and passed it to him. He withdrew a small packet and handed it to her. "Here," he said, "we are not ready to make babies just yet, are we. Open it." She tore open the small packet and extracted the slippery condom, holding it up and examining it as if it were a biological sample. "Put it on me." He ordered quietly, then added, "put it on the end - then roll it down." Odette did as ordered and Peter groaned as her small girl's hand gently slid down his cock, unrolling the condom until it covered most of his length. "Voila!" she exclaimed proudly, sitting back and admiring her work. "Now he can go inside, yes?" Peter scooped her up in his arms and kissed her, "Soon my angel, soon." She returned his kiss with passion and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling his face into hers. Years of abstinence overflowed in her as her tongue whipped his. He felt her need and his hands gripped her taught little buttocks and pulled her body hard against his so that her peach ripe breasts squashed against his chest. After several minutes of this close contact he pushed her down backwards onto the settee and instinct made her draw her legs up and open. Her little wet pussy was gaping open and willing as Peter leaned over her, his penis swinging free, searching out its target like a rampant stallion as it covers a mare. Natures guidance system brought his rubber covered cock tip to her opening and it slid just inside. She was beside herself with desire and wriggled and squirmed until she had captured more of his cock. He nuzzled her ear when he felt her hymen and said, "And now we will make you a woman, my angel," and thrust forward, rupturing the thin membrane that separated her from womanhood. She grimaced and gave a little cry, but thrust forward against him, impaling most of his cock. He pulled back and stopped, told her he loved her and asked if she was all right. She kissed him and thrust forward to impale herself on him again, eager not to lose that fabulous 'full' feeling she was experiencing. Spurred on by such enthusiasm he began to pound her tiny body with well measure thrusts, taking care to let the top of his cock bear down upon, and rub, her clitoris every time he pushed forward. It had been a while since he had experienced such a tight wet pussy around his cock and he felt that, despite cumming a short time before, he would be taken over the edge before he had satisfied Odette, unless he controlled himself. She, meanwhile, was finding that the pleasure she was receiving certainly outweighed the small pain she had felt when this huge penis had driven deep inside her. She felt at one with her lover and resented the steady and sure onset of her first penis-induced orgasm as it built up inside her, knowing that her pleasure would end soon afterwards. When she reached the moment, her pussy walls rippled and twitched as wave after wave of euphoria swept through her brain. His already large penis was growing in size within her and she could feel his testicles, which had been slapping her bottom in their loose sack, cramp up and swell. He had felt her vagina twitch and spasm and allowed himself to cum, filling the teat of the condom almost to bursting point with spurt after spurt of his seed-filled cum. A gentleman to the last - he had been supporting himself on his knees and elbows, but had collapsed onto her perspiration-covered body to lie, partly supported by her small frame, in splendid peace as his orgasm washed over him. When his heart beat had fallen to close to normal, he pushed himself up and his partly softened penis started to slip out from with her reluctant hole, she encircled him with her legs saying, "No my love. Leave it inside me." "I can't," he replied, "the condom will leak." "Oh No!" she groaned, releasing him from the grip of her legs and letting him withdraw and leave her lying quietly whilst he dressed. "The rain has stopped and your dress is dry," he whispered in her ear and then kissed her forehead. She gave a contented groan and turned onto her side. He kissed her again, "Your parents will be wondering what happened to you." She came to with a start and asked, "What time is it?" "Almost five - you have been here well over an hour." She jumped up, grabbed her clothes and dressed quickly, "I will tell them I have been here with you and we played …. cards .. until the rain stopped." "And I will tell them that I have been making passionate love to the most beautiful woman in France," he chided. She smacked him playfully and said, "You had better not," ******* When the door shut behind Odette the room felt dark and empty - as if the light had been switched off. Peter stood and watched her walk passed the window and up the lane and he felt empty as well. He sat, as if in a daze and replayed the images from the last hour in his head - over and over again stopping and dwelling on the most loving and erotic ones until he shivered and realised that he was still naked. ******** Odette's parents were not at home when she returned, only a note explaining that they may be late. She went upstairs to the bathroom and slipped out of her soiled clothes and stepped into the cubicle to take a long hot shower - soaping and stroking her own soft skin over and over again. She could still feel the glow from having part of Peter's body buried deep inside her and how it filled her in such a complete and unexpected way. It gave another meaning to the English word 'fulfilling'. It was such a sublime sensation that she wanted to keep it alive by stimulating herself between her legs. Sometimes by rubbing the slippery scented soap up and down between her silky folds, other times, by directing the powerful jet of the shower directly onto her lower lips until she couldn't stand the tingling anymore, whereupon she transferred the spray to her jutting nipples. Eventually the water cooled so, reluctantly, she turned off the shower and dried herself with a large bath towel lingering and enjoying the lingering, around her erogenous zones. She didn't dress again, instead she donned her simple cotton nightclothes and raided the kitchen for an early meal before heading for her room - she was ravenous and wondered why. When her parents returned she called down that she was reading and was taking an early night. In fact she was lying on her bed with her hand in her panties thinking how wonderful it was to have such a beautiful lover - something she had so often dreamed about. She felt no guilt - only a desperate longing to experience the same sensations again and then she fell asleep with two of her slim little fingers gently probing her moist lower lips to dream of Peter and his amazing attributes. ******* Peter's night followed much the same pattern and he awoke with one of the hardest erections he could remember experiencing. He rose early and showered, turning the water thermostat to cold to try and ease the tension he felt in his balls. He put on his dressing gown and went down stairs. By the time he had finished breakfast, he was beginning to think that only by wrapping a bag of frozen peas around his cock would he relieve his tension when there was a loud knock on his door. He was in the middle of drying the few breakfast pots when he heard it and walked to the door holding a tea towel before him to cover his arousal. He pulled open the door and Odette stood before him in a simple dress. She was trembling and, after saying quickly that she had to see him again, launched herself at him - clamping her lips on his and pushing him before her until he reached the large kitchen table on which he fell backwards with her lying on top of him. " J'ai envie de toi," was all she said as her body slid down his to the floor pulling open his dressing gown and exposing his throbbing penis as a vertical, angry red staff before her face. "I have been dreaming of this all night of this - this 'queue'," she said breathlessly mixing English with the naughty French words she knew. Finally, she placed both her palms on his flat stomach and lowered her head to his rigid flesh - his 'queue'. Her extended tongue stabbed at it several times and then she drew it slowly from its wide base and his balls to his seeping slit, over and over again. A French Connection As she licked him she could feel the tension contained in his few inches of manhood. It was taught like a drawn bowstring - every square millimetre of the skin that covered it was straining to contain the pressure inside as she sucked its head in her hot wet mouth. He raised his upper body and looked down upon her uplifted face and tantalisingly naughty blue eyes as they gazed back at him. She was not just giving him a 'turlute' - she was paying homage to his totem of erectile tissue and he revelled in it. She stopped and asked "Is it OK? I have been thinking all the night of doing this?" "You probably need coaching in a couple minor points," he answered sarcastically with his eyes rolling, but meaning, " What you are doing is fantastic and stand back if you don't want me to take your head off when I cum." "Oh Peter, I am so sorry - tell me, what I do wrong!" He laughed and pulled her face up to his, "My darling Odette, I am joking. What you are doing is perfect - please don't stop." Her face dissolved into a beautiful smile and she slid back down and continued her task. When Peter was about to fill her busy mouth she stopped again leaving him panting and a little deflated. "Is it ready yet to go inside me again?" she asked eagerly, "Do we need another - you know - balloon?" "Condom," he corrected and added "over there," pointing to his wallet on the sideboard. She stood up and before Peter 's cock had throbbed a dozen times she was back with a little packet which she tore apart to extract its contents. If Peter had equated being a virgin with sexual ignorance then he was about to be re-educated. She held the condom up to her mouth with both hands and lowered her face to the end of his cock and then, in one single movement, she sucked the rubber tube into her mouth and plunged it down onto his cock engulfing it with both, completing the cloaking task in a second. Again she looked up at him and grinned. "Where did you learn that?" he asked. "I have read stories on the internet - even in the convent," she replied cheekily. At this point she pushed Peter backwards, so that he lay prostrate on the large kitchen table, hoisted up her cotton skirt and climbed on top of him with her legs astride him. She wriggled around until she achieved her objective. He knew she wasn't wearing her panties when he felt her wet slippery pussy lips licking his cock just as her mouth had been doing minutes before. Up and down - slipping and sliding coating his rigid shaft with droplets of her copious honey before dripping down onto his wiry thatch. He matched her rhythm whilst she had a rhythm, but then it became jerky and erratic whereupon he held her hips and guided her engorged lips onto the end of his penis. She, finally exhausted of all patience, stabbed downwards and impaled herself hard onto him. She gasped at the sudden intrusion, then fell still for a moment, nuzzling into his neck and whispering French obscenities into his ear. She felt complete again. It was as if part of her body had been missing for ever and was now whole again. Slowly she moved. Peter let her control the coupling, happy with the exquisite sensation he felt as she clutched his erect organ with her powerful vaginal muscles. It was as if she was trying to replicate that initial, heart-stopping, inward thrust over and over again as she withdrew her sopping wet satchel to the end of his cock and then sunk deep down on to it again. She leaned forward to rub her distended clitoris along its length on each inward and outward stroke and shuddered at the pleasure it gave her. When his tip delved deep, it brushed against her cervix - not painfully but in a manner that told her she was being fully filled. Since both Peter and Odette had been nursing an intense sexual longing for many hours, their ability to sustain such erotic contact without cumming was greatly diminished and within a few minutes of mounting Peter, Odette felt that rush of blood to her brain that signalled her orgasm. "Oh, oh, oh - Ahrrrrg!" she gasped as her orgasm overcame her. Her movement on Peter's throbbing shaft slowed and he was forced to thrust powerfully upward into her honey drenched core to bring about his own satisfaction. When he came it was with the ferocity of a small volcanic eruption and he was sure that he had filled his condom to overflowing. As his orgasmic convulsions subsided he felt the exhausted body of his lover collapse warmly onto him and he held her tightly, kissing her ears and neck until her breathing returned to normal. "It feels different when it is soft," she said at last, reminding Peter that he was wearing a condom and that his flaccid penis still snuggled inside her. "You better get off, " he said and she rolled onto the table beside him. Peter looked down and was alarmed to see his shiny penis devoid of its rubber sheath. "Christ!" he swore and lifted her legs to separate them in a wholly unseemly way and was relieved to find the rolled end of the condom nestling between her pouting pink lips. He gingerly pulled it, and its contents, out from inside her with a slurp and breathed a long sigh of relief before discarding it. Odette just lay and giggled at his antics. Finally Peter saw the funny side and joined her in her laughter, laughter that faded into seriousness as they looked into each other's eyes. "Je t'adore!" said whispered finally. "Que moi?" he whispered back with a quizzical look. "Que toi!" she replied and kissed him longingly. They clung together on the large table until the hard wood deadened their bodies. Peter was the first to move, "Come to bed with me, Odette?" he asked and held out his hand. She took it and he pulled her upright into his arms where they kissed once more before moving towards the stairs. ****** They lay together on Peter's large bed kissing each other's faces and gently caressing each other's naked body. "You must think that I am a very …naughty girl, Peter?" "Oh I do," then added when she playfully smacked him, "but you are my very naughty girl and I love you for it." "She melted into his arms and kissed him, first on the mouth then down his neck and onto his chest where she gnawed at his tight nipples. Her hand stroked his thigh, brushing along his, now stiffening rod and depleted ball sack. His hand clasped her tight round buttocks and kneaded them, dipping his finger into her cleft and stroking her tiny brown star. She lifted a leg over his and rubbed her wet pussy lips up and down his firm thigh, like a dog humping his leg and leaving a trail of love dew on his skin. As their excitement rose their sighing and moaning increased. Peter's cock throbbed with anticipation and Odette lowered her head towards it. She inhaled its musk and placed her cheek against it, pressing it close with her free hand. Then she stroked it with her tongue - a long firm stroke that Peter felt deep within him. She licked him again and then re-adjusted her position so that she knelt astride him, affording him access to her glistening down-covered vaginal lips. Not slow to respond, Peter leaned forward to bury his face between her thighs and nibble her outer pussy lips and clitoris. She gasped and froze, but not for long because it was Peter's turn to gasp as she swallowed a length of his cock and sucked. For many minutes they lay thus, mutually stimulating each other's genitals until Peter found himself getting very close to releasing his sperm inside her mouth. "Odette, please, I'm going to cum, stop, or I will cum in your mouth." Rather than pulling off him, she increased her efforts, both in sucking his rod and rubbing her pussy onto his face where his extended tongue continued to lap purposely at her sex sending her clitoris into sensory overload. They both came together - at least it was a photo finish. He throbbed and spurted his pent up reserves of semen deep into her throat as she continued to suck, swallowing every last drop. He, meanwhile, felt the tremors of a powerful orgasm ripple through her vagina and coat his face with her plentiful juices. "Here endeth the third lesson," thought Peter for apparently no reason although he was now having second thoughts about who was teaching who. Odette was an insatiable tigress, enjoying absolutely every thing sexual as far as he could see. When they had finally settled back and lay cuddling, Peter asked, "You know Odette, if I didn't know better I would never have though you were an inexperienced virgin when we met." She shrugged and grinned that fetching grin, "I have girl friends who are not and they used to smuggle into the college, those adult videos." "Sort of 'training films' were they?" he asked sarcastically. "I suppose they were," she laughed her reply "What else have you learned on these 'sex courses' then?" "Well," she looked up coyly through her long eyelashes, " I believe that there are other ways of .. you know.. doing it." "Other positions?" Peter responded. "Oh yes, but other ways as well," she was gently stroking his lengthening cock as she said this. "Are you saying what I think you are saying?" he asked, almost in disbelief. "I think so, yes. You touched me there, remember?" She patted her buttock by way of demonstration. "But it would hurt you very much," he said. "Not if we use cream," she retorted leaving the bed in search of a suitable lubricant. She returned with a jar of Vaseline that she had found in the bathroom medicine cupboard and stood at the bedroom door holding it aloft. "I do want to try this Peter - please - do it for me." "That's only half of what you need, Odette," looking down at the half-erected penis that lay in his lap thinking its duties were complete for the time being. Laughing, she skipped over to the bed where once again she took his cock into her mouth, sucking and stroking it until it was hard. When she had succeeded, she sat back with a grin and an expectant look on her face. After a few seconds she grabbed the jar and removed its lid, scooping up a blob of jelly which she then went to rub onto Peter's prick before he stopped her. "I know they just 'do it' in porno films but if you are not to come to any harm then it is best that I wear a condom," at which point he unrolled another rubber onto his shaft. She was still grinning as she slowly smeared the stretched condom with jelly in a sensual up and down movement of her hand. When his cock was full coated she commanded, "Me now," and turned, squatting on her knees before him. He took the jar and scooped a fair sized quantity of the pale substance onto his fingers and then started to rub it into her tight little brown hole. Even whilst he was only rubbing the outside of her anal ring she was squirming and pushing back into him. When he inserted a long index finger she groaned and thrust herself onto it so strongly that he added a second finger and reamed her virgin anal hole round and round until the tight grip of her sphincter relaxed. "Now Peter - put it in me now!" He took up his position behind her and grasped her firm buttocks, forcing them apart. He could see that she was highly aroused by the size and colour of her engorged vulva and thought of the possibilities there, but he would have to leave that for another time. By controlling his pelvis he navigated his swinging erection into alignment with her dark pink ring and then pushed forward to engage it. The first inch slipped inside her easily and then she gasped and he stopped, "are you OK?" He was concerned. " I will stop if you say so." "No!" she answered, "Please do it." He pushed forward again and three quarters of his rigid prick slipped inside her, she gasped again and he held still, allowing her newly challenged muscles to become accustomed to the intrusion. After a few heartbeats he felt her push back onto him and completely engulf his cock. His pubic bristles ground against her smooth arse and he felt her warm moistness envelope him. He pulled out slightly and looked down and was amazed to see how her tiny backside had opened and swallowed his thick penis. They rested again, he enjoying the hot tight feeling and her a new, different , fully filled sensation before he began to move: withdrawing and thrusting in slow deliberate strokes. His hands reached around her body, one to hold a pendulous breast and the other to grope lower - to rub her clitoris. Odette did not do 'slow' for long and increased the pace of his penetrating thrusts until Peter was driving in and out of her like a well oiled piston. He found himself being drawn closer and closer to another powerful orgasm over which he would have no control. Above the sounds of Peter's grunting and that of their sweat moistened flesh slapping together, were the animalistic noises that Odette herself was making. Her movements were becoming increasingly violent until they reached a point when she wailed like a pained creature and stopped moving altogether. Peter felt her spasming anal muscles around his cock and came as well - not in floods, but with enough semen to squelch out of the condom and run warmly down her thigh as he withdrew his raw organ. He went to the bathroom and flushed the condom away before washing his genitals, then he returned to the bedroom with a warm wet flannel and towel. Odette was still in the same position with her tiny bottom raised in the air showing her soiled red opening. Peter gently wiped her and dried her with the towel and then pulled her to him. She hugged him, pressing her face to his chest and said, "Well, I guess I had to try it." "Did I hurt you?" "It did - does - hurt, but it is not your fault. What was it like for you?" she asked. "Different, it was much more - oh, I don't know - physical - I suppose - it's not really making love is it? I feel as though I have used you - even if you did ask me." "I know what you mean but it has to be fast and furious - then it is intense with a strange mixture of pleasure and pain." "Are you ready to go again, then?" he teased. She prodded him and replied, "maybe next month." Peter was surprised at her answer. Things had moved along at quite a pace in only a couple of days and it seemed that Odette's curiosity and was far from being satisfied let alone her apparent endless enthusiasm for sex. It was going to be a long hot summer. ********