4 comments/ 113402 views/ 5 favorites Paris By: Katherine-T I'm touring the Louvre. I have a three day lay-over in Paris, and since it's raining, I thought I would walk through the ground floor of the Louvre, in the rooms devoted to the Middle Ages. Statues of the saints mixed with thoughts of knights and ladies and heavy swords. I had a fascination for this at a young age, and I still have it. I find it restful to lose my soul in the imagined customs of a thousand years ago. In a room in the Pavillon des etats, I see a tall woman standing before a cathedral sculpture of a martyr, the saint protected by a red velvet rope. Don't touch, the rope says. She's quite tall, this woman, thin, elegant looking, maybe fifty years old. She's dressed in black, with a small white pearl in each earlobe, a three-stranded pearl necklace; a long black ensemble, black shoes, very thin ankles sheathed in sheer black stockings. We are alone in the room, no one else, not even a guard. When she hears my footsteps, she turns and looks at me. What begins as a glance becomes a long look, maybe a hint of surprise in her eyes. Does she think I'm a boy? No, darling, I'm a girl, although I'd like to stick my tongue up your cunt -- as far as possible -- and see how far it will reach. I could reach your liver, if I'm in a decent mood. And when I'm drunk, I can most certainly reach your heart. Of course nothing happens. I linger in the room, pretending to study another statue, but sneaking an occasional glance at her. At those fine ankles. I wonder which are the ghosts, the stone saints or the two of us, the woman and myself, from the present century. Ghosts looking at ghosts. All these statues with vacant eyes. She glances at me twice more, each time a second more than necessary, and I'm tempted to think it's with interest. But I've played this game too many times to believe there's anything here to be developed. She looks rich, maybe American. She has straw- colored blonde hair coiffed in a chignon, tied in back with a black ribbon. So elegant looking. I ought to be put away in an asylum for thinking obscene thoughts about a woman like this. Her interest in the Middle Ages must derive from an interest in the Church, which is a passion more than an interest -- look at the black she wears -- a woman passionate in her religion, recently a grandmother, a rich husband with a yacht, two fine sons who will someday improve the family fortune. I imagine she's in Paris to buy clothes and to visit an old school friend who married the French equivalent of her husband. She leaves the room, and I remain alone with the martyrs. * * * The rain has stopped when I come outside, and now I don't know what to do. Should I go to my little hotel and read? Should I pass the afternoon on the bourgeois Right Bank or the neurotic Left Bank? Or I should go to the Pont de Neuf and throw myself into the river to end my indecision. I climb into a taxi and tell the driver to take me to St. Germain. To the Flore. When it rains the Flore is always crowded inside, and one can at least watch the human race at its maneuverings, the eye games, the mouth games, philosophers eyeing the girls in tight jeans who walk by to show the philosophers their tight little asses. When I enter the Flore, the tobacco smoke is so thick I feel I'm in a fog bank. I see an empty little table, and I'm just about to walk to it, when there, in another direction, at another little table, is the woman from the Louvre. When our eyes meet, she tilts her head. Recognition, surprise, a faint smile. I walk to her table and say in English: "The Louvre was more peaceful." She seems surprised. "You speak English well." "I practice whenever I can." She smiles. "Why don't you sit down?" * * * She's American, from New York, stopping in Paris a few days after a trip to London to visit her sister. With Americans, you can immediately establish everything important about them in a few minutes. A French woman would amuse herself constructing a mystery. This woman's name is Helene. Do I live in Paris? Yes, I say, but I'm not here often. When she asks about my work and I tell her I'm an airline stewardess, she seems delighted. What an adventurous life! If she only knew how boring it is, how it's not much better than working as a waiter, how the hotels in Cairo have cockroaches, how Bombay smells of rotting garbage, how often I get monstrous headaches on a long flight. I order a Pernod from the waiter and Helene and I talk about the Louvre. At the moment I don't have any interest in the Louvre or what it contains, only in Helene. The most obscene thoughts whirl in my brain, and now I'm worried that maybe I should consult a psychiatrist and purge myself of these pornographic images. What would Helene say if she knew the images that are passing through my mind. She talks about the Louvre, and all the while I'm thinking about what she has under her dress, my mind imagining, designing, constructing, as if knowing the color of her underwear is absolutely necessary for the continued existence of the cosmos. Does she understand this? There is no hint of anything in her perfect face, a perfect plastic Anglo-Saxon American face, a bit gaunt, but that only adds to the charm. Yes, she must be at least fifty, but I am already infatuated with every square gently aging centimeter of her body. Her breasts appear small, almost nonexistent, but I'm certain the nipples are exquisitely sensitive. I derange myself with my feverish imaginings. I must know more. I ask about her husband. Is he here in Paris? "Oh, no, I'm travelling alone. My husband is in New York." "The freedom must be refreshing." "Yes, it is." "Sometimes men are in the way." She exhibits a faint smile. "Do you think so?" "I'm lesbian." So there it is. She says nothing. Of course she has known it from the beginning, from the Louvre, and we both know she has known it from the Louvre. I don't work on my appearance for nothing. When I'm in the uniform of a stewardess I suppose it's ambiguous, but now there is no ambiguity, not for anyone with eyes and a smattering of sophistication. Either I look like a lesbian or someone who wants to be taken for a lesbian. Either way, it's enough to provoke the interest -- if the interest is there at all. We sit for a long time saying nothing to each other, two American women in the Flore, the tobacco smoke hovering. Finally, I say: "I have a flat, but it's small and uncomfortable." And after a moment, without changing her expression, she replies: "All right, let's go to my hotel." * * * She has a room at the George V, pink draperies and pink furniture, and while I look out the window in the direction of the Champs-Elysees, she orders champagne. I remove my leather jacket and drape it over the back of a Louis XIV imitation chair. All this pink, it makes my eyes water. Who could invent a more suitable place for a lesbian fuck than a pink room? And yet it's a bit nauseating, like a dose of too much sugar that gets into the stomach and makes you swear you will never eat anything sweet again. But I'm not swearing, not just yet. After the champagne arrives, we drink a toast. "To the Louvre," I say. She smiles. "Yes, to the Louvre." I feel the obligation to make the first move. I put my glass down, make her put her glass down, and I take her in my arms and kiss her lips. What does she want? She wants a girl who looks like a boy, and so I kiss her like a boy. We're exactly the same height and the kissing is easy. Her scent makes my head swim, my heart pound, my blood heat up as though it were being boiled. The pressure of her slender body against my own brings me to the edge of fainting with arousal. My brain feels awash in a hot desire, a limitless wanting, wanting. I want her. I want to ask her what she likes in bed, but I can't imagine a woman like this one talking about such things. She's one of those women who do not talk. She feels, cries, laughs, trembles, but she doesn't talk. To make a woman like this one talk you need sodium pentothal. And I'm not certain even that would work -- maybe she would merely mumble in a private language. I touch her. I put my hand on her breast, lightly caressing her. She has small soft breasts. As I kiss the side of her neck, I drop my hand down to her belly and I rub it slowly, carefully. She remains passive, not moving. Then I press my fingers further down and feel the mound through her clothes. She moves her legs apart, just barely, but it's a sign of acceptance, and now I cup her mound, feeling its warmth, while I drop the other hand along her back and down to her buttocks. Her firm little elegant ass. Everything here is elegant. I have the impression that if I make a sudden movement she will shatter into a thousand elegant fragments and disappear. Silently, I urge her to the bed. She moves, dropping to the bed, almost a collapse, lying partly on her side and not looking at me. Maybe she's never done this before -- for the first time, the thought suddenly occurs to me that maybe she has never before been with a woman. Maybe she's one of those women who travel to foreign countries to do things they find impossible to do at home. At this point I don't care, all I want is to fuck her. "Is this your first time?" "No." That's that. So I get on with it. Should I remove her clothes or merely uncover the essentials? My instinct tells me to uncover the essentials first, if she wants to be undressed it can happen later. As she lies on the bed with her legs dangling over the edge, I bend over her and tug at her dress to uncover her thighs. All black. Black dress, black pantyhose, black shoes. Even uncovering the essentials requires a military campaign, strategy, logistics, tactics. The shoes, the tights, the delicate nylon panties (black, of course). She has good legs and thighs for a woman her age, firm and shapely, smooth white skin that never sees the sun, not a wrinkle anywhere. Her sex is as elegant as the rest of her, sparse dark blonde hairs around the lips, hardly a forest above that, more like a thin patch on the triangle between her bony hips. She lies with her black dress pulled back on her belly and her legs still dangling, and without any further delay I kneel at the side of the bed and open her legs and start kissing the insides of her thighs. She sighs and she moves her thighs further apart. She wants it. I can smell her now. My sensitive nose is aware of the delicate scent of her cunt. The lips have parted a bit, and the glint of wetness between them is a good omen. She may lie there like a silent martyrized virgin, but her cunt is talking, making long speeches. I lean forward and nuzzle it, touch it with my nose, the first touch, a greeting, like one dog greeting another. I'm a dog, a sniffing mongrel bitch exploring this little world of soft folds and hair and wetness. I find her clitoris with my nose and rub the tip of my nose across it from side to side. This brings an immediate response from her, another sigh, something that sounds like a moan, at least a vague sound in her throat, and she lifts her knees and opens them, spreads them in a rather obscene way as if to tell me to do more, do everything, take her cunt completely. I lick everywhere around her clitoris, but never touching it, teasing her, deliberately attempting to drive her crazy. I slide a hand upward, along her body to find a breast, a nipple, my fingers rubbing the nipple through her clothes. Suddenly I become voracious, my tongue, my mouth devouring her flesh, all the wetness sucked inside, my lips now rubbing directly over her clitoris, first my lips and then my nose, faster and faster, as she moans, as she rocks her knees from side to side. When she comes, she heaves her buttocks off the bed to slap her cunt against my face. I suck hard, my face buried between her thighs, in the boiling surf. She comes down. I keep at it. I push her up to a second orgasm, and this time when she cries out it's a deep groan, a groan from the depths of her soul, her eyes rolled back like the eyes of a medieval nun in a religious ecstasy. It's finished. I pull away. I know she expects me to fuck her now, get my fingers in her and make her have another orgasm, but I've suddenly had enough. When I come out of the bathroom, my face is dry, my hair brushed, my equilibrium restored. She lies on the bed like a vanquished virgin, as if she hasn't moved, except that her dress has been pulled down to her knees to restore her modesty. "I'm leaving," I say. She opens her eyes. She says nothing. She just looks at me, a long steady look. She talks with her eyes, the way a few minutes ago she talked with her cunt. "Take my card," she says at last. "There's one on the dressing table." I find the card. Mrs. Helene Huntington, an address on East 67th Street in Manhattan. "Have a good flight home," I say, and I walk out. In the corridor in the George V, outside the elevator, I fold the card and stuff it into the ashtray used for cigarettes and cigars. End Paris 'Pour les connaisseurs, ce fantasme est né lorsque je suis tombée sur une séquence d'une émission sur le cable français 'Paris Dernière' pour ne pas la nommer. J'ai pris beaucoup de PLAISIR à l'écrire. "Group sex" je pense, non?' Ha Paris! Je viens de me réveiller après avoir passé une nuit excellente. J’ai le corps encore un peu endolorie, mais mes sens sont au repos, enfin légèrement au repos. Il fallait que je note quelque part ce qui venait de se passer afin de ne pas oublier même si je pense que je ne l’oublierais pas. J’ai passé un petit déshabillé, fendu sur le côté, afin d’être à l’aise et pouvoir me caresser si l’envie se fait sentir. Voilà mon histoire : Etant abonnée au câble, j’ai découvert un soir, il y a fort longtemps, une émission dont je devins une fan inconditionnel. Cette émission passe tard dans la nuit et je ne la manque jamais. C’est un personnage qui parcourt, caméra sur l’épaule, la capital. Il vas dans des lieus connus et d’autres très insolites. Il rencontre des gens connus comme des inconnus et les interviews d’un ton décontracté. Mais se qui me plait le plus dans cette émission, c’est les dernières minutes. Elles ont toujours une connotation sexuelle. Il nous fait toujours découvrir des situations très insolite. Voici quelques un : -Dans une salle de cinéma, difficilement accessible, il retrouve des gens portant des masques dans la salle. Une sorte de monsieur loyal apparaît et invite des personne à le rejoindre sur scène. Un couple se lève, elle en latex, lui cagoulé des pieds à la tête avec une chaîne autour du cou. Ils montent sur la scène et la femme commence à fouetter son esclave devant les gens impassible. Le pénis de l’homme se met à grossir. Elle fait monter une autre femme sur la scène, et lui donne son fouet. La fille fouette pendant que la femme suce son compagnon. -Arrivée dans une pièce avec un appareil à UV où se trouve une actrice du porno dans le plus simple appareil. Interview de la belle. -Appartement transformé en bain douche ou l’on voit une ravissante femme en robe moulante noir dansant devant trois mâles captivé. La belle se met nue. Un tatouage sur le dessus des fesses. Elle annonce qu’elle est DRH d’une grosse société. La fille rejoint ses compagnons et les embrasses goulûment pendant qu’ils flattent son corps. Aperçu d’une autre pièce où une femme s’offre à trois mâles. -Attroupement autour d’un véhicule. On y trouve une femme se caressant et se déshabillant sous les regards lubriques des badauds. - L’homme attend sur le trottoir sur les champs Elysée. Une décapotable s’arrête à sa hauteur. Une blonde cheveux court, costume d’homme, au volant et une brune chemisier et petite jupe d’été comme passager. Il monte dans la voiture et interview les filles qui vont en boite. La brune retire alors son chemisier avant l’arc de triomphe. Elle est seins nus et se lève afin que tout le monde autour la voie. Elle finit par retirer sa jupette et s’exhibe en brésilien noir sur le rond-point de l’Etoile ou les voiture klaxonne rageusement à notre passage. La fille rit à gorge déployé, heureuse. -Une boite d’échangisme où des couples font l’amour devant tout le monde et dont certain spectateur rejoigne le couple. -Un café où une femme, totalement nue, récite des poèmes. -Un anniversaire où des filles peu farouches, dans une limousine, offrent leur poitrine dénudée aux bouche avides des mâle en présence. -Interview dans une boite dans vendeur de gadgets érotiques (godemichés de tout type et de toute fonction, fouets, cravaches, etc…). Notre caméraman monte à l’étage et tombe sur un couple qui s’embrasse goulûment. Une femme les regarde. On apprend de sa bouche que c’est deux femmes. Il est évident que celle qui domine, celle qui colle l’autre fille contre le bord d’une tablette, à des allures masculines. Elle dégrafe le chemisier de la fille ainsi que le soutient-gorge. La fille dévore alors la poitrine de sa compagne. Elle remonte alors la jupe et écarte le bas de la culotte de la fille pour la masturber énergiquement. C’est généralement au point culminant que le générique de fin apparaît. -Il y a aussi ce couple qui aborde des jeunes filles dans des bar ou dans la rue et leur propose, moyennant une certaine somme, de leur faire un strip-tease devant leur caméra. Une ravissante jeune fille blonde accepte leur proposition. Elle et son amie emmène le couple dans l’appartement des parents de la jeune fille. Pour une somme plus conséquente, il propose à l’amie de la fille de l’accompagner dans son exhibition, mais celle-ci refuse. La jeune fille met un disque et se met à danser devant le couple et son amie. Lentement elle s’effeuille. On ne pourrait s’imaginer les trésor que referme les jeans des jeune filles. La fille portait un magnifique ensemble brésilien en dentelle blanche. Le spectacle était ravissant. Elle honora le contrat en se mettant totalement nue. On en mangerait tellement c’était mignon. Une fois le spectacle terminé, la jeune fille n’éprouvait aucune pudeur et restait nue sans se cacher la poitrine ou son mignon pubis. Il demandèrent à nouveau à l’amie si elle voulait bien se déshabiller pour eux. La réponse fut moins catégorique. Sous leur demande insistante , appuyé par celle de son amie, elle consentit de montrer que sa poitrine et elle retira son tee-shirt. Comme la plupart du temps, l’homme nous laisse sur notre faim, je m’imagine la suite et me masturbe comme un démente. Et je ne vous ais pas dit le top à mes yeux. -Une jeune fille blonde, habillée d’une robe blanche d’été et les yeux bandée, sonne à une porte. Un homme, visiblement enrhumé, vu les vêtements qu’il porte, ouvre la porte. Il prends la fille par la main et la dirige doucement dans les lieu. Il la confie, à un beau mâle pendant qu’il s’assit dans un fauteuil. La pièce n’est éclairé que par des bougies. La fille caresse le torse de l’homme et lui ses fesses. Le maître des lieus ouvre un livre et se met à lire un passage érotique. Lentement le couple se déshabille en s’embrassant tendrement. Le mignon petit string blanc, entraperçus lors de la monté des marche à travers la robe presque transparente, le string donc, dernier rempart de son intimité rejoint la robe. La fille se retourne et se fait caresser les seins et le pubis face à la caméra. L’homme l’emmène ensuite vers un petit lit où il l’allonge. Le couple fait ensuite l’amour devant le maître des lieus, qui lit toujours et nous. La fille garda son bandeau durant tout ce moment. Ce que j’avais vu ce soir là, me hanta toute la nuit. Je me réveillais en sueur. Je devais me masturber afin de calmer mes sens. J’oubliais petit à petit mais trois fois par mois, l’image revenait et je me branlais comme une folle. Le temps passa et l’émission continua. La séquence devint l’un de mes fantasmes favoris. Je m’imaginais les yeux bandés offerte aux caresses et bouches avides de mes amants. Dans ces cas là je jouissais comme une folle. Pendant un an, je n’eus plus un seul rapport sexuel, vivant de mon fantasme. Je finis par ne plus tenir. Il fallait que je réalise mon fantasme. Je passais un coup de fil à la chaîne qui diffusait cette émission et on me mit en contact avec le producteur. Il accepta d’accéder à ma requête et me donna rendez-vous pour un soir de la semaine suivante. Le soir arriva et je m’habillais, toute émoustillé pour la circonstance, de plus que je risquais d’être filmé. Je mis une robe légère, facile à retirer, pas de soutient-gorge mais un string noir et un porte-jarretelles. Je mis mon manteau et allais à mon rendez-vous. Je n’attendis pas longtemps sur le bord du trottoir. On ne pouvait pas rater la voiture très caractéristique. Je montais, le cœur battant à la place passager et l’interview commença. Je lui dis que cela faisait un an que je n’avait fait l’amour et que cela devenait difficile. Pourquoi je voulait me rendre chez l’homme qui organisait ce genre de réjouissance, mais suite à une scène dans son émission. Je lui racontais ce que j’avais vu et ce que j’avais ressenti. Il prit son téléphone et appela la personne en question. -Toujours prête. » -Oh oui! » -Salut! C’est moi. Dis voir, je suis avec la personne dont je t’avais parlé. Oui, oui elle est toujours consentante. Hum… Hum.. » Il retira son combiné de l’oreille. « Il me demande ce qui vous ferez plaisir. » -Je peux choisir? » -Oui! » -Humm, voyons voir… Un couple si c’est possible » J’étais excitée et mouillais mon string d’excitation. -Elle veut un couple. Hum…, oui. Dans vingt minutes. » Il me regarda. « J’espère que la tension qu’elle éprouve ne baissera pas d’ici là. » Je lui fis signe que non. -C’est bon, dans une vingtaine de minute on sera chez toi. A tout de suite. » et il raccrocha. La tension ne tomba pas, bien au contraire. Je lui parlais des meilleurs scènes à mes yeux, de le fin de son émission. Les vingt minute passèrent rapidement. -Dans la boite à gant, tu trouvera le bandeau. Tu peux le mettre maintenant. Notre ami veut rester incognito, pour le moment. Je mis le bandeau sur mes yeux. Mon cœur battait la chamade. On continua à parler. Je me détendis mais mon cœur s’emballa à nouveau lorsque la voiture s’arrêta. Il m’aida à descendre. Il m’accompagna et sonna à une porte. -Bonsoirs! » -Bonsoirs! » dis-je instinctivement. -Alors c’est vous qui voulez vous encanailler? » -Oui!! » -Toujours d’accord! » Plus moyen de reculer maintenant. Je n’avais pas fait tout ce chemin pour dire non. -Oui, je suis toujours d’accord. » Il me prit la main. -Allons y! Un peux tendu peut-être? » -Enormément! » -Cela ne durera pas. » -Je le pense. » Il s’arrêta et me débarassa de mon manteau. -Vous êtes ravissante! » -Merci On mit ma main dans une autre et la personne me fit le baise main. -Je vous présente M… votre partenaire de ce soir. » Il m’entraîna vers un autre lieu. -Agenouilles toi. » J’obéis. Il y avait un matelas et des coussins sur le sol. Je sentis d’autres mains me saisir, des mains plus fines, des mains de femmes. Elles retirèrent ma robe. Ca y’est j’étais dans le vif de l’action. De mes mains, je découvrais le corps de la fille qui m’embrassait. L’homme ne participait pas encore. Ses baisers étaient divins. Ma poitrine n’échappa pas à sa bouche vorace. Je glissais une main dans sa culotte et la branlais. J’embrassais à mon tour sa poitrine. Je faisais rouler les tétons sous ma langue ce qui provoquait les râles de mon amante. Deux mains prirent mon visage. Quelque chose se pressa sur mes lèvres. Je reconnus un pénis en érection. J’ouvris la bouche et l’avalais. J’entreprenais une fellation. Je m’agenouillais, les coude sur les cuisse de mon partenaire afin d’être plus à l’aise dans mon travail. Il tenait ma tête alors que je le pompais vigoureusement. On me disait très bonne à ce jeu et ceci grâce à une amie Américaine. Il ne tarda pas à me montrer sa satisfaction. Deux mains se posèrent sur mes hanches et mon slip humide glissa le long de mes jambes. Un doigt glissa entre mes lèvres juteuses. Mon corps trembla. Le doigt quitta ma vulve et j’entendis un bruit de satisfaction. Je supposais, vus que j’aurais fait la même chose, que la fille avait goûté mon nectar intime. Deux mains se posèrent sur mes fesses. Une langue lécha alors mes lèvres liquéfiées. Je gémis le pénis toujours dans ma bouche. Le fille lapa mes liqueurs puis embrassa goulûment mon intimité. J’avais la chair de poule. Elle écarta mes lèvre et sa langue me pénétra. C’était divin. Je jouis plusieurs fois dans la bouche de la fille qui n’arrêta pas sa torture divine. Mon partenaire masculin, finit par cracher sa semence dans ma bouche. Je l’avalais parce que l’on m’avait dit que mes partenaires étaient « clean ». Je repoussais la fille et décidais de lui prodiguer le même plaisir. Je retirais alors sa culotte et lapais comme une chatte ses liqueurs. Elle commença à gémir de plus en plus. L’homme n’avait pas perdu de sa vigueur. Il me prit en levrette. Moi qui n’avait plus fait l’amour depuis un an, j’étais servie. Je buvais la plus subtil des liqueurs dans le plus beau calice qui existe et un mâle bien monté me prenait vigoureusement. Je finis par avoir mon orgasme, ainsi que la fille. Malgré mon orgasme, je bus ses liqueurs. Le fille me prit la tête, m’attira vers elle et m’embrassa tendrement. Je lui offris sa cyprine dans ma bouche. On resta là, moi entre mes deux partenaires, à récupérer en nous caressant et nous embrassant. Mon Pygmalion prit congé. On refit encore l’amour et mon bandeau me fut retirée que tard dans la nuit. L’homme avait filmé toute la scène et m’offrit la cassette. Il me donna aussi son numéro de téléphone trouvant que j’étais très douée et que d’autre personnes pouvaient avoir envi de faire ce que j’ai osé faire. Je lui promis d’y réfléchir, connaissant déjà ma réponse. Un dernier baiser à mes deux amants et je les quittais. Bien sûr j’acceptais son offre et de plus il faisait de petit film amateur aux-quel je finis par y participer. J’eus une longue aventure exquise avec la fille, hors caméra. Lui, je le revis un peu au début et il quitta la capital. Le fait d’être filmé, me décoinça énormément. Paris It was the second time he was going to Paris but this trip promised to be much more interesting. He had been chatting with her on and off for a year or more when a comment bout how she needed to get laid to cheer here up seemed to create an opening. He ha admired her for ages, her beauty, intelligence and he also felt slightly protective of her, as she always seemed sad. Maybe it was one of his faults but he hated to see people sad. He had packed a variety of things in his bag, some naughty and some nice, as he still wasn't really sure what she would be like in person. He slowly locked the door behind him and set off to the airport, arriving quickly and checking in he left his luggage and went to the bar, getting a quick drink in before the flight to calm his nerves. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror he wondered what she would think of him when she saw him. Not in the best physical shape, 5ft11, green eyes and hair that would never do what it was told. He smiled; at least he had been told he had a nice smile. If the worst came to the worst e could always just enjoy a few days wandering round Paris. He boarded the plane and set off for the "city of romance", looking down at the clouds as he soared higher. The flight was short and uneventful much to his relief. He collected his baggage and flagged a taxi to take him to his hotel near where she lived. It was a clean and pleasant hotel that didn't mind what time you got in at night, which suited him perfectly. He was meeting her tonight at a restaurant she had selected. He quickly made his way to the shower and washed the sweat of the journey off, refreshing himself, shaving and trimming his beard and trying to make himself worthy of her. Heading back into his room he picked a simple black shirt and jeans with his shoes, casual but smart, he looked at his case and realised that he had done it again and brought nearly all black clothes, something he needed to work on. He flipped the case shut and picked up his phone texting her to check she still wanted to do this. E received a reply quickly saying yes and that she was looking forward to it. He felt the butterflies in his stomach doing somersaults as he grabbed his jacket and made his way downstairs, the restaurant was not far away it was a cool autumn evening and a nice walk down to there. Rounding the corner he saw the restaurant and walking in spotted her at the table looking round. He smiled and waved as he walked over to her, trying not to trip over his own feet or something equally foolish. She stood up and greeted him with a hug, which he returned, enjoying the momentary warmth of her body against his; she looked even more beautiful in person. Her slim body wearing a sleek black dress, almost evening wear. "Hello Vie, its nice to meet you in person finally." He smiled at her ad brought her hand to his lips kissing the knuckles just gently. "And it's nice to meet you as well Nik." She smiled and he felt the butterflies in his stomach again. He didn't want to get this wrong; her accent was delicious and sent a tingle of anticipation down his spine. "Well I don't know about you but I am starving, would you like to order?" Nik sat down on his chair, opposite but close to her. She quietly passed him a menu and he briefly looked through it before ordering one of the specials, Vie then ordered the same and the waiter left. They slowly started talking, hesitantly at first but then more animated as they discussed everything from the weather, to films, to language, music and art. Nik flagged down a passing waiter and ordered some wine for them to share, checking that it was one she liked before he ordered it. As it arrived and was poured he lifted his glass to her in a toast; "To the most beautiful lady in Paris!" Sipping his drink he watched her slowly smile, loving the way it made her face light up. Watching her slowly drink, as the food arrived. The next few minute were a comfortable silence as they both ate, punctuated by the occasional comment about the food as they ate, he watched her, noting the curve of her cheeks as well as her other attributes, smiling at her. They finished their meal and decided to share a dessert, picking something with chocolate and ice cream, having fun as it came, sharing it. "Well Vie, that was fantastic and the best company I have had in a long time, so what would you like to do now?" "We could go somewhere for a drink or we could go for a walk in a park?" "The walk sounds nice..." Nik walked over and picked up his coat and collected her coat holding it out for her to put it on. They walked out into the night and wandered round to a nearby park, walking in the last rays of the setting sun just as night began to take its hold, the darkness spreading as they strolled under the trees talking quietly. Discussing their past lives, what they had done, things that had made them happy and the things that had made them sad. Nik paused under a large leafy tree, its leave just beginning to turn a rich shade of gold and took her hand. "I am really glad to meet you Vie, and I don't know what you think of me except that you liked my stories, I am not sure how the real me compares to what you imagined but I think you are amazing." The wine making him slightly braver he slowly wrapped his arms around her body, his hands sliding down to the small of her back as he pulled her gently towards him, tilting his head down, lips level with hers as she slowly tilted her head back, lips slightly parted as they met, kissing gently to begin with then stronger with more passion as his grip around her tightened pulling her close, feeling her warmth. Finally they broke the kiss and his eyes twinkled with mirth; "You are a fantastic kisser Vie." He smiled at her again then felt her shivering. "Vie you're cold." He noticed how cold it was getting outside now the last of the sun had gone in. "We should go inside somewhere it will be warmer, would you like to go for a drink somewhere or something?" She looked shyly up at him, "how about we go back to my flat for a drink?" He felt himself hardening at the look in her eyes and as his own imagination took hold and ran away with him. He took her hand and walked back out of the park towards the road, looking for a taxi to flag down. He finally got one about 10 minutes later and they sat in the backseats together as she gave the driver the address. He could still feel her shivering so wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her gently to try and warm her, holding her to him as he let his body warm hers. The journey was not long and they arrived at her flat and slowly made their way to her front door. She looked back shyly at him then opened the door and let them both in. She walked down the entrance hall and pointed out the different rooms, the kitchen, lounge and bedrooms, a slight quaver in her voice as she pointed out her own. He followed her round looking at all the rooms in curiosity, staring into them and admiring the layout. Finally she turned to him and smiled; "Would you like to make yourself comfortable in the lounge whilst I get us a drink?" Nik smiled softly back to her, "Of course..." He took his coat off and hung it up making his way back to the lounge and sitting on the large sofa. He slowly relaxed down onto the seat listening to her move around the flat picking up glasses and opening a bottle of wine. Carrying them carefully she walked back into the room and set them down on the coffee table, pouring them each a glass she passed it over to him. "To first meetings..." her face a picture of mischievousness as they both sipped their wine. "Very nice" complimented Nik, "Thank you, I was saving it specially..." Vie looked at him then slowly sat down on the sofa next to him. "I wasn't referring to the wine..." Nik placed his glass down on the coffee table and carefully took her glass placing it next to his. He reached out and gently tilted her face towards him, moving forward to softly kiss her parted lips. His kiss slow and soft to begin with then more passionate, tongue flickering between their lips to lick as they kissed. His hands slowly slid round her and pulled her gently to him, into his warm embrace, as they tasted each other again. His fingers began a slow dance, sliding up and down her back, gently caressing her as they lips finally parted, Vie's breath coming quickly as she pressed her body to him. His hands slid down her sides to the hem of her dress and slowly caressed her bare thighs, his hands rubbing and softly sliding over them, as he began to gently slide his hands up her legs, sliding the dress with them. Slowly her black lace panties came into view, her head tilted back as she lay completely relaxed against the sofa, soft moans coming from her lips as he hesitantly hooked his fingers into her panties. Bracing her feet against the floor she lifted her ass, her eyes still closed as he gently pulled them down her legs, settling her ass back down and kicking them off to the floor. She slowly parted her legs, lifting her head and looking at him as his soft tender hands caressed her burning flesh. His fingertips gently pressing into her as he slowly peeled her open, rubbing the tip of one finger over her button making her gasp as his soft fingers played with her most sensitive areas. Parting her sweet lips carefully he dipped one finger into her, tracing it about and gently playing with her clit as he slid off the sofa. He knelt on the floor in front of her, his hands sliding under her ass as he slid her down the sofa and closer to the edge, knees bent as she let her head flop back against the back of the sofa again. He started with her knees kissing them gently, whispers of a kiss; his breath warm against her already fevered skin as he slowly began kissing up the insides of her thighs. His lips soft and warm, pressing on more the higher he kissed parting her legs further till finally, slowly as she almost begged for it he gently kissed her soft pussy. His breath hot as he ran his tongue between her wet lips, tasting her sweetness for the first and hopefully not the last time, flicking her hard little clit with the tip of his tongue as her hips bucked up to reach his mouth, a low cry escaping her lips as she surrendered to his mouth. Probing her with his tongue he felt her body quicken, her breathing speed up as the promise of an evening of passion began to take its toll. Her fingers were digging into the sofa cushions as he continued his unrelenting attack on he soft wet slit, tongue flicking in and out, his fingers slowly teasing her skin, sucking, licking, flicking and tasting, never letting up, her body shivering under the continued assault of his mouth and hands till finally she could withstand it no longer, with a loud cry she exploded into his mouth, her juices filing his mouth with a sweet taste as he drank her down, her climax wracking her body as she collapsed trembling back onto the sofa, her tense body a limp rag in the aftermath of her pleasure. Nik slowly sat back and licked the taste of her from his mouth and beard, kissing her knees and legs where he could as her breathing slowly returned to normal. He leant forwards and grasp the hem of her dress slowly pulling it up over her unresisting body and head, lying it over the back of the chair, he lifted her in his arms. Her eyes filled with the lustful satisfaction of a shattering orgasm. He carried her through to her bedroom, laying her gently in the centre of the bed, reaching behind her to gently undo her bra strap, lifting it away to reveal her amazing breasts. Unable to resist he leant down and fastened his lips around one, enveloping it in his hot mouth, his tongue swirling round it then flicking the tip of her pert nipple with his tongue before kissing his way over her chest to suck, flick and play with her other breast, enjoying the soft gasps elicited from her as she slowly began to feel her arousal rising again. He let them fall away as he stepped back and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, a noise of protest came from the vision on the bed as she slowly sat up and reached out for him, drawing him closer and slowly reaching to unbutton his shirt herself, her fingers nimble and quick as she undid them then reached up to slide it off his shoulders smiling as he broad chest was revealed, leaning forward to kiss his nipples making him shiver as her hands slid lower to undo his belt, unbuckling it then the buttons and zip on his jeans. He kicked his shoes off as she slid his pants down revealing a hard shaft covered only by the thin material of his briefs. She reached out and gently traced the outline of the bulge with her finger nails, making him gasp, his legs shaking as she slowly freed his hard cock, sliding his briefs down to the floor. H reached out and slowly caressed the side of her face as he flicked his socks off moving to kneel on the bed next to her, pulling her to him, pressing her tight body against his... He slowly moved to kneel and kissed up and down her body gently, his shaft swaying in front of her as she rolled onto one elbow capturing his shaft into her mouth. He cried out and lent forward thrusting himself deeper into her mouth. He carefully sat back on the bed, legs spread as she knelt on the quilt in front of him, lips wrapped around his shaft as she slowly sucked on him, her tongue sliding up and down the underside. His hands slowly caressed her soft skin as she took him deeper down to the base, holding there for precious seconds before sliding back up. His groans louder now as he reached forward to pull her off his shaft. Kneeling up, his thick hard shaft pulsing and throbbing as he rolled her over, lying her on her back as he moved to kneel between her legs, he moved forward, rubbing his shaft up and down her soaked slit. Pressing the head against her clit, rubbing it in and out of her wet hole, teasing her before he lent forward, bracing himself above her as he slowly began to push his way into her, his eyes never leaving her face as he entered her, watching her eyes close slightly as she bit her lip feeling him slide deep inside her. His breathing slow and deep as he felt her tightness close around him, the velvet warmth of her surrounding his rod as he slid I deeper into her, finally stopping when he was fully inside her, leaning down he kissed her soft parted lips then lifting his hips pulled himself out then drove himself into her. He felt her surround him once again then drew out only to slide back into her again and again, thrusting himself into her over and over, small gasps and moans escaping her lips as he thrust himself as deep into her as he could. His hard shaft coated in her sweet juices as he forced himself into her tight slit over and over, grunting occasionally as he thrust a bit harder. Her fingers digging into the sheets under her as her body responded to the thrusts, her eyes staring up at him almost begging as he hammered himself into her. Her breasts jerked with every thrust, his breath warm against them as he occasionally caught them in his teeth, that little edge of pain adding to the sensations overwhelming her body as she exploded into convulsions again, crying out loudly as she climaxed, her juices flowing over his cock as he slowed his thrusts, drawing out of her... He had a special place he wanted his first load to go. He leant down and kissed her gently waiting till she recovered again, his shaft kept hard by the lewd sight in front of him. He leant forward and asked her a soft question; she reached out to a drawer beside her bed and bought out a small tube. He rolled her over and helped her up onto all fours. He moved quickly behind her, unscrewing the tube and squirting a small amount onto his finger as her gently massaged some into her tiny puckered ass hole... using the rest on his hard shaft, making sure there was at least s bit of lube. He moved forward and positioned his shaft at her ass, reaching forward to grip her hips as he pulled her back onto his cock. Pressing the head against her as she tried to relax, his hard cock forcing its way into her ass, making her gasp at the intrusion. His fingers digging in as he kept the pressure on, slowly forcing his way into her ass, stretching her open as he embedded himself into her. Grunting with ever inch that he forced into her. Unshed tears in her eyes as he filled her ass, taking her, giving her that pain that she enjoyed... He leant forward and whispered in her ear, telling her to play with herself, to make herself cum, as he would not last this long in her ass, it was so incredibly tight. He had about 3 inches into her now as she braced herself on one arm and reached back to finger herself, the tips of her fingers touching her clit expertly arousing herself even as she felt the tightness of her ass, stretched by the cock sliding deeper and deeper into her. Finally Nik felt himself at the point of no return, he started to pull out and then slam back in, taking her ass hard, thrusting himself in and out of her, filling her hard and fast making her cry out, burying her face into the pillows, her hand busy as he took her, making her his as he thrust into her again and again. Moaning with each thrust, waiting, holding on, determined not to cum till she did again... Her moans were getting louder, he thrust himself into her as hard as he could, watching her stretched ass as he slammed into her, his balls slapping against her, he slapped her ass, hearing her scream as she came again, her fingers bringing her with pain and pleasure to an overwhelming orgasm, her body tensing and relaxing uncontrollably as Nik buried himself in her ass and finally exploded. His hot cum blasting out, filling her with stream after stream of hot cum, his cock boiling as he sent his full load deep inside her. Gasping and crying out as they blasted deep, collapsing onto her back as they both fell forward onto the bed, still impaling her as they lay together, his arms sliding round her to hold her to him as he shrank and slowly slid out of her. His breathing slowly returning to normal as he gently whispered in her ear: "Vie, you are amazing and I am so glad to have met you." All he got in return was contented moans, a good way to start his trip to Paris. Paris It was in the beginning of spring. I was travelling to Paris for a week, wanting to enjoy a solitary trip to this destination that was both familiar and unpredictable. I arrived in the afternoon. The first thing I felt stepping out in the street was the warmth of the sun on my hair. I touched it and in a second, a slight shiver traversed my body. I felt new and beautiful in this town that was not mine. My hotel was situated in the vicinity of the Tuileries Gardens. I was given a room with a view over a small pedestrian place. As soon as I entered, I found the windows open and a gentle spring breeze hit my face. It was quiet and tastefully decorated in tones of light pink and ivory. A large bed was reigning in the middle, covered with white rosy sheets. The freshness of the air and the light bathing this scenery were so intoxicating that I let myself fall on the bed all dressed with a desire to laugh happily, strange as it may have seemed. I was alone and yet I did not feel lonely at all. I stood up, got undressed and walked all naked to the bathroom. It was covered in white marble with a comfortable tub on the right facing a large mirror. I left the hot water flood in while returning to the room to close the window. As I was pulling the heavy curtains, I glanced outside and saw people strolling in the newly born sun, indifferently. I was looking at them from a distance risking at my turn to be seen, naked and smiling, at this anonymous window of a Parisian hotel. Minutes later, I was sinking in the hot water, slightly excited by being in this new place. My body relaxed, my eyes closed, and I could scent the vanilla perfume climbing out of the water, enveloping me in an imperceptible cloud of steam. Then occurred the calmness of a moment when objects vanished in the heat, and I was swept in the aura of a sudden instant of pleasure. My fingers were sliding under water. I opened my eyes and gasped with a startle...The mirror was starring back at me. Purified from the trip's fatigue, I got prepared to meet my friend Julian for lunch. He was an English architect living in Paris for several years. Tall, dark haired, warm grey eyes, a large forehead with locks of hair falling in disorder, he was hardly a typical forty years old man. A permanent smile tinted with shades of sadness never ceased to evoke in me the image of a resigned artist, a young one, who never realized the passing of time. He had a way of looking at you that was both intriguing and moving. The same smile was welcoming me that day, at the table of a café. "Jane, my dear, it's been so long" said he, almost shyly, then kissed my cheek. I smiled. He wanted me. I could read it in his eyes. He took my hand in his and. Those tender grey eyes started to dive into me, as was his habit, in search for whatever secret I did not want to reveal. I was stirred, and for a moment, I fell into believing that he was in love, and that his eyes were his way of confessing it. I stared back at him, in sign that I understood, and that I, too, could felt the same. And so the mirage took place again, as every time we met. But, an instant later I would wake up, tamed and unquiet. Struggling between things and feelings that didn't exist, I noticed that a man seated across from us was looking at me in wonder. I didn't pay much attention to him. An hour later we were out. Julian took me in his arms and kissed me. We started walking. "Jane, let's run away together!" he whispered. "Darling, if only you meant it, but we both know better, don't we", I answered calmly. He smiled at me then. I hated that smile that cynically gave me confirmation of what I would have preferred to be a wrong assumption. "Let me enjoy you then, while you are here" he offered. We returned to my hotel room. Patiently, he started to undress me. I was standing at the bottom of the bed. I let him do, without moving. He unbuttoned my shirt. His eyes were shining with impatience. His hands gripped my shoulders, caressing down my arms, and my waist. Suddenly, he turned me around, unzipped my skirt, and pushed it at my feet. I could now feel his hands cupping my ass, and then going up my back, in a firm massage. I felt him approach me from behind; the warmth emanated from his body. One hand reached to my throat and caressed it, gently pressing on it. I gasped. While I was facing the wall, Julian was slowly taking possession of me. He was still dressed. He unhooked my bra and, as my gasps would accelerate, he grabbed my breasts, massaging them, taking the nipples between his fingers and teasing them. A hand strayed along my body and delicately lowered my panties up to my knees. I was now almost naked, with only my black stockings on, and I was shaking in anticipation. I heard a noise, as he moved behind me. He then bent me over the bed, parted my ass and pushed into me with a vigour that made me startle. He had prepared me well, for the entrance was easy, permitting his penis to slide into me directly and deeply. He murmured my name and thrust in deeper. I could not have been more vulnerable to him. With my hands on the bed, I took the thrusts jealously, accepting his power within me. We matched perfectly. He was hard, harder than I remembered him; stronger and more asserted than ever. "You are mine, Jane" said he, loudly. "Say yes!" I did not say a word. I imprisoned him within my womb, and squeeze his penis. My silence and strength were my way of possessing him. He was desperate that I show him my surrender. But I would not say a word. Instead, the moans intensified, the pleasure made its way into our bodies. In a final struggle to own, he released in me and I took it all in. "Do you love me?" I asked while kissing him deeply. "Yes, I love you..." "Handsome liar" I said with a sad smile. *** I woke the next day with the sound of raindrops against the window. The rain seemed to pour interminably, so I decided to spend time reading in the café next to the hotel. At my utter surprise, I noticed at a table the man who had stared at me a day ago, during my lunch with Julian. I chose a quiet corner to read, deciding not to be seen this time. "A very enjoyable author, Anais Nin." I startled. "My favourite is The woman in the dunes, what is yours?" The stranger had a voice, and it had just brushed me impertinently. I felt hustled and pointed out. I answered trying to keep my calm: "Marcel". "Ah, the strong woman, leading her lovers on the tip of her fingers. Very good". "So many fantasies into just one story!" I added. "That is a courageous woman. Who would not admire her?" He smiled. I could see he was satisfied of the way I responded. He was older than Julian, more manly and confident in himself, less emotional and more firm. Surely, he had a lot of experience. I wasn't altogether dissatisfied with this encounter, although I was shaking inside: was it with fear or with anticipation? Images started to defile in my mind, incessantly. He was now watching the invisible tumult transforming me, and waiting, in silence. Then followed some glances back and forth, in a dangerous game of silences that only enhanced the tension of the situation. It is what he wanted. But suddenly, I stood up in a haste, and headed towards the door. It was still raining, I didn't care, I needed to walk. Half an hour later I was back at the hotel, only to notice that I had misplaced my keys. I was given a double and could access to my room. The door was open. "Are you ready now?" the stranger said to me. He was sitting in an armchair against the window. I closed my eyes. My lips couldn't move. The snapping sound of the door shutting behind me was still resounding in my head and I was feeling the pulse pounding in my veins. Inside that room, I was prepared to lose something. But the excitement of not knowing pulled me from this reflection and I said. "Yes". I wondered if he saw my impatience and nervousness in the flicker of my eyes. Then, my lips parted in a gasp to reach for air. I was warm. I was restless. He came towards me and took my face into his hands, kissing me, first only lips touching, then the meeting of tongues, the swirling and agitation of a deep powerful kiss that said "you cannot escape me". I felt as if a dense cloud of poison was surrounding me, ready to inject drop by drop that intoxicating liquid in my veins. My arms around his neck, I surrendered to his kiss and pushed my body into his. His hands dropped to my shoulders, caressing my arms and my waist, circling it and pulling me to him even closer. I felt his hardness and I looked up; his eyes were shiny. Mechanically we started to undress, rushing, gasping. Facing him in only my underwear, stockings and heels, he, already naked, I heard myself say: "Yes!" "You are used to men admiring and serving you, don't you?" he said in a serious tone. I nodded. Then he pursued: "You know that this time things will be slightly different. I hope that you are prepared to it". I feel blood rushing to my cheeks. I was extremely nervous. "Don't be afraid. You know what to do". He kissed me again deeply and said loudly: "Just let go". As in a trance, I approached to his body. My hands started travelling on his back, his waist, and his buttocks that were firm and tensed. I was afraid, but I slowly lowered on my knees, kissed his torso, and below, met his hardness, a penis that was vigorous and firm, long and smooth. I looked at it, touched it with my fingertips, while his hands were brushing my hair invitingly. My tongue touched the tip of his penis, feeling its warmth, and then I inserted it in my mouth, closing my lips around it and starting to suck gently. He moaned and said "yes, go on". As I accelerated my movements, I was getting wetter and wetter to the point of dripping on my thigh. But he didn't want me to continue. I stood up and stared at him. His face was transformed by a violent lust. He pushed me against the cold wall facing the mirror, and started undressing me of my underwear. My breasts exposed bare to the cool air were begging for his mouth to suckle on them, which he did, first softly, teasingly, then more urgently. His hands were everywhere. We both breathed so violently, as if trying to expulse something in us, to cast aside our separate beings and reach the other to mingle together in one body. His fingers touched the inside of my thighs, feeling my extreme wetness, and rubbing against it. Once the panties were pushed aside, he lifted my right leg and suddenly thrust himself into me, groaning in a wild excitement. And there, he fucked me with the rage of an animal that had been starving for too long. He was sitting in his chair looking at me as I lied in bed, exposed, naked, and languid. No word was spoken, but the silence of the moment was broken when a knock resounded at the door: "Jane, it's me, open up darling". It was Julian. I looked at my right and the man said: "Tell him to come in". I did. Julian stepped in. "Jane". His voice was trembling His face was flushed with shame. "Don't say anything. At least pretend to understand." I replied, still languid in my nakedness. He came towards the bed, with eyes that were bathing into an intense light. I knew that he could either hate me from that moment on, or begin to truly love me. I didn't care. He kissed me, and then whispered in my ear: "I deserved this." The next minute the door was closing on him. *** The days that followed seemed very empty. Paris was empty, and so was I. Paris and the Drug Dealer A quick note from the author. This story is pure fiction for I can't imagine any wife getting herself into a situation like this. It's just a bit of harmless fun from my over active imagination and certainly not to be taken seriously. Happy reading. Bazzza _____________________________ Twenty five year old Jeb Hammond had slipped into dealing grass quite by accident. For the past three years, he'd struggled financially while putting himself through an engineering degree; his only income was from any part time job he could find. The only job he really enjoyed and stuck with was at a small shop that bought and sold second hand vinyl and CD's. Music was his second love after sex, and he enjoyed the constant coming and goings of people at the shop to do business, and was quite happy to work evenings or weekends when he wasn't studying. It was also a good place to meet the ladies, and every opportunity was explored and taken advantage of. Jeb was a tall good looking man, his skin dark from his Jamaican heritage. He had a ready smile and an easy going disposition that people liked. His wicked sense of humour resulted in customers usually leaving the shop with a smile even if they hadn't arrived with one. His shoulders were naturally wide and his waist narrow from his parent's genes; he wore his jeans tight to show off his muscled thighs and tight buttocks, knowing they attracted his fair share of female admirers. And with his wealth of knowledge when it came to music, the owner of the shop trusted Jeb to run the business in his habitual absence. While Jeb hated drugs like coke and crack, he enjoyed the odd puff of grass. It relaxed him and made him feel good, much better than alcohol which made him a little aggressive and then left him with a hangover the next day. So grass was his drug of choice, but he was careful not to over do it. His cousin Kenny was a small time dealer, and would supply Jeb with the small amount that he wanted for his own use. When one of Jeb's regular customers asked him if he knew where he could get a little grass, he put him in touch with Kenny, and that customer brought Kenny some added punters. A few weeks later, Kenny approached Jeb and suggested he could do a little dealing from the shop, the fact that so many people came and went; it would attract little attention from the law. While a little reluctant at first, Jeb soon began to build up a small cliental of punters, and the extra money came in real handy. He would encourage his customers to also purchase the odd second hand CD just to maintain his cover. Truth was, his very naive boss who spent most of his time at the track, gave him a little pay rise due to a noticeable increase in sales. Jeb allowed his client base to increase slowly, but would only sell grass to new customers on recommendation from his existing punters, getting busted wasn't on his agenda. Jeb had been dealing close to sixteen months when Paris Miller entered the shop for the first time looking for a little grass. He'd been told to expect her by one of his regulars, and had also been warned that she could sometimes be a bit of a bitch. Jeb was always one to take people on face value, and was friendly and charming as ever when he did the first deal with Paris. But the attractive brunette treated him with almost contempt and hurried out of the shop with her little bag of grass without even a thank you. Jeb hated any prejudice with a vengeance; he was always polite and expected the same courtesy in return. But each time Paris arrived at the shop, Jeb was treated with the same contempt as before, no matter what he did or said to befriend her. It was a pity really, for Paris was something to look at. She was stunningly attractive, with her thick dark hair worn long, her green eyes were large, and her face well defined. Her attempts to hide her substantial breasts were unsuccessful, and Jeb like many other people dreamed what her clothes might hide. Most times, Paris would arrive in a skirt which showed off her toned legs, the odd time she would be in jeans which only further showed off her well formed buttocks. The fact that an engagement and a wedding ring adorned her left hand no way discouraged Jeb from his fantasies, for a white married lady, even though a good ten years older than he, would always be the desirable if not forbidden fruit. It was on a wet Wednesday night that really did it for Jeb; Paris arrived for a buy just before he closed the shop. She cut his pleasantries short and demanded that he move his big black arse and hand over her grass. When Jeb suggested that there was no need to be rude, she told him to get fucked and not waste her time. Jeb handed the grass over and suggested that she not come back. She laughed sarcastically and left with her purchase. What Jeb didn't know and probably wouldn't have care about, was that Paris's use of grass was purely for medicinal purposes. Paris had injured her back after a drunken fall in high heels down a flight of stairs after a night out two years previous, and the intermittent pain since was sometimes excruciating and unbearable. She had weaned herself off prescribed pain killers because of the usual side affects, and after trying grass on the suggestion of a friend, she realised that she'd found her heavenly release, even though it was an illegal substance. She kept her little secret from everyone, including her husband Mark who was a well known and respected lawyer. He would hit the roof if he found out she was using drugs, even a little grass. He wouldn't put his reputation on the line, even for the happiness and well being of his wife. But Paris didn't care what he thought, if it was good enough for him to play around with other women, what was a little smoking of grass worth? She didn't actually know for sure that he was playing around, but she instinctively suspected that he was. The little signs of arriving home late with slightly wet hair and smelling of a shampoo that she didn't have in the house, plus the unusually diminished sex drive. To be fair she didn't really care, she sometimes wondered what love really was, for they had drifted emotionally apart in the last few years. She was resigned to the fact that the marriage would probably fail, and would ensure any divorce settlement would suffice to keep her in a reasonable lifestyle. The weekend that Mark flew out on a so called business trip was supposed to be just like any other, but for Paris, it started badly. After dropping Mark at the airport, she had driven to a shopping centre for a little retail therapy. She had no idea when her handbag went missing from the busy shop counter, it was simply there one second and gone the next. With it had gone her car and house, keys, cell phone, wallet with money and credit cards, and many other things of importance. After taking a taxi home and using a hidden spare key to get into the house, she managed to scrape up enough cash to pay the driver. Later that evening, she tripped over a misplaced mat and tweaked her back, the pain soon began to seep through her body and the tears began to flow. She knew that a little grass would help, but she needed cash to get it. No problem, she thought and rang two close friends who would happily loan her a few dollars without question. Unfortunately, none were home and all their cell phone numbers were stored in her cell phone, which was still in her stolen handbag. She held out for a while, but the pain just got worse and worse, and with it came the desperation. In her demented mind, she wondered whether Jeb might consider a little credit, after all she was a good customer. Maybe he would over look their last encounter when she was intentionally rude to him. Taking Mark's car, she headed for the music shop praying that he had not yet locked up for the night. Jeb was indeed closing up for the night; it had been the usual Friday night rush, both for grass and CD's. He was surprised when Paris entered the shop and made her way to the counter. He looked at her with cold eyes, for he was tired from the long day and in no mood to put up with her uppity behaviour. "Hey Jeb, need a favour." she announced with a wide smile after making sure they were alone. "And what might that be?" "I'm in the shit; my handbag with all my money and card's been stolen. I need a little grass and wondered whether you'd give me a bag on credit?" "Nope, don't do credit." "Aw please Jeb, I'm desperate. I use it for pain in my back, and its killing me at the moment. Just this once." "Sorry, no credit." "Shit Jeb, please just this once." she pleaded. "I'll pay you double on Monday." Jeb stared back at her in silence, and still unconvinced. Truth was, he only had a little bit of grass left and he intended to keep it for himself when he got home. He had no intention of giving it to this prize bitch, no matter how much she was in pain. "Aw god Jeb, c'mon. I really need it." Jeb reached into his pocket and took out his little bag, he waved it under her nose, "This is all I've got left, and I'm taking it home for myself. I ain't giving it to you, got that?" Paris's eyes focused on the plastic bag as another spasm of pain rocketed through back; she flinched and steadied herself waiting for it to subside. "Jeb, I'll do anything for that bag." Jeb smiled as his eyes moved downwards over her black top and tight jeans, "What exactly does anything include?" Paris quickly realised what he was asking, she flashed her left hand in front of his face, "Sorry Jeb, I'm happily married." she replied. "I don't fuck around." "Oh well, that's it I suppose." he replied putting the little bag back in his pocket. "C'mon Jeb, anything else." Paris pleaded. By this time Jeb was kind of enjoying himself, it was gratifying to see the bitch on the back foot for a change. But he also really wanted to get rid of her and go home. He moved to the rear of the shop and turned off the main lights leaving the shop lighted but dimmer. "C'mon Paris, I gotta go." "Shit Jeb, just let me have the bag for fucks sake, I'm really hurting here." "Last offer, I'll settle for a blow job." he replied more as a joke than anything else. Paris stood her ground and stared back at Jeb. Could she do this she asked herself? Could she suck his black cock in return for that little bag? While there were times she fantasised about being with a black man, the reality was that she probably couldn't bring herself to do it, or could she? The pain in her back was tormenting her ability to think rationally. "Just a blow job nothing else." she replied after a few seconds of contemplation. Jeb was taken aback, for he never expected her to go through with it, but the thought of a blow job was well worth the little bag in his pocket. He grinned, "Sure, a blow job and its all yours." "One condition." she replied. "I'll need a little smoke first." Jeb handed over the bag and papers, and watched Paris quickly and expertly roll a joint. She walked away and wandered the gloomy shop for a few minutes as she smoked half of it, then returned to the counter to where Jeb was standing rubbing the front of his jeans in expectation. "Okay, let's do this, got somewhere we can go?" she said. Jeb turned around and walked to a smallish office in the rear of the shop, a desk and a chair stood to one side, on the other side was an old couch. The rest of the room was surrounded in wooden shelving stacked untidily with files and papers. They stood and looked uncomfortably at each other for a few seconds before Paris took the lead. Sitting on the edge of the couch, she beckoned Jeb closer. "You'd better behave yourself." she commented while undoing his belt and zip. Paris was surprised as his large black cock sprung out at her as she pulled his jeans and boxers down, its large head bobbing just in front of her face. It was certainly larger than anything she'd been presented with before. The first thing she really noticed was how black it was, darker than his legs or arms. The shaft was thick and heavily veined; his circumcised glands slightly lighter in colour than the shaft and the head above. The large head was larger in circumference than the shaft and already shiny with pre-cum in anticipation for what was about to come. She took him in hand and slid her fingers up and down his shaft; it was warm and hard under her touch, her fingers not quite able to completely encircle his girth. Paris's lips tentatively lowered to the head of his cock, a flick of the tongue before parting her lips wide to take him. She heard him gasp with pleasure as her tongue explored the eye before slipping down the groove to the glands below. Her mouth then slipped along his shaft to provide a little lubrication for her hand, first one side then the other. She then took the head back into her mouth and began to work him by hand and mouth, she wanted this over and done quickly. "Ohhhh, baby, that's nice real nice." he whispered after a short time. It had been many years since Paris had a foreign cock in her mouth. In her younger years, she'd delivered many a good blowjob to her boyfriends. She enjoyed the power of making a man hard and keeping him that way; making him squirm and tremble before their cum fired through her hand. She always wondered why some men dribbled and others fired long streams of cum high in the air, but never found anyone who could truthfully answer her question. When she first met her husband Mark, the sex had been frantic and wild, but as the years passed them by, it fell into a predicable and boring mechanical routine. And when Mark stopped licking her pussy, Paris stopped sucking cock, and that was the way it stayed, which was a shame really because she enjoyed sex as much as any woman. In all the years she'd been married, there had never been another man in her bed. There had been more than a few tempting offers, but each time she'd declined, sometimes reluctantly. Paris settled into her routine of sucking and stoking, the only interruption to proceedings was dribble some saliva along his shaft for lubrication. She could feel the trembling of his excitement growing and gradually picked up speed. "You might wanna take your top off." Jeb panted. "Otherwise you're gonna get my shit all over you." Paris emptied her mouth of cock, "Not a chance, you ain't seeing my tits. Don't worry about making mess, I'll handle my end." The affects of the grass had relaxed Paris as well as taking away the pain; it had also reduced her inhibitions and she was beginning to enjoy herself. She could feel a little dampness in her panties with realisation of what she was doing, her mouth stretched wide over Jeb's black cock. She had always thought he was kinda of a good looking guy, but also he was a bit of a smart arse. Until now, she had always discouraged any banter between them. With her eyes wide, she took in the scene before her, the long black shaft in her mouth, his flat stomach and toned thighs below. Jeb was in heaven, it was good blow job by all standards; this uppity white bitch could sure suck a mean cock he thought to himself. He tried to disguise his approaching orgasm, for he wanted to paint Paris white with his cum. He doubted whether she would swallow, she probably intended to point his cock away from her and stroke him off onto the floor or couch. He grinned and concentrated as the end quickly neared. Paris was aware that Jeb was close, but not how close. His cock was in her mouth when he fired the first shot catching her completely unaware; she gagged and removed her mouth before the second arrived. Jeb grinned wickedly as he took himself in hand and stroked himself swiftly. Paris was busy pushing cum out of her mouth with her tongue when the second shot caught her full in the face, she dropped her head to escape, and the third and forth shots which went into her hair and dribbled down to her shoulders and onto her top. She sat dumbfounded for a few seconds as Jeb's cum dribbled down her face and onto her jeans. "You dirty bastard, you could've warned me." Jeb grinned as he slowly milked his cock, "I did. Told you to take your top off didn't I?" "What a fuckin mess, jezus you're an arsehole." Paris said angrily. Jeb laughed loudly, "Surely am, but you ain't exactly the first person who's called me names. Wanna lick it clean?" "Get fucked, don't be so bloody disgusting." she replied trying to ignore the horrible bitter taste in her mouth. "Where can I clean up?" Jeb pointed her in the direction of the bathroom and left her to it. Paris didn't realise the state of the mess until she saw herself in the cracked and dirty mirror. Her face was shiny, globules of cum were splattered through her hair, and she didn't have to think too hard what the stain on her left shoulder might be. She ran the tap and cleaned herself as best she could before wandering back to the office. Jeb smiled as he offered Paris her bag of grass. "Great blow job sweety; maybe we can do it again sometime." Paris snatched the bag, "Only in your dreams. I won't be coming back here again." Jeb laughed, "Shame really, cause I really kinda like you now." "Get fucked" she replied while heading for the door. Paris waited until she got home to take another smoke, and was soon relaxed and comfortable. After finishing the joint, she took herself to bed and found herself thinking about what she'd just done. But instead of being disgusted, her hand wandered down between her thighs and stroked her erect clitoris for a few seconds. From a bedside cabinet, she took a vibrator and began to pleasure herself while fantasising about Jeb's large black cock, and what it might feel like inside her. Her first orgasm arrived quickly and the second not long after. By the time Sunday afternoon arrived, Paris was still in some pain. The grass that Jeb had supplied had been used the day before. She took herself to the emergency doctor, only to be prescribed the same pain killers that she'd previously weaned herself from. What she really wanted was more grass, but the thought of seeing Jeb again wasn't high on her 'to see list.' She pondered the thought of finding another dealer, but the risks of something going wrong were too high. But as her discomfort grew, she found herself driving towards Jeb's shop. There were a few people in the shop when she walked in, and Jeb's knowing smile only made her angrier. She pretended to browse while he finished serving a customer at the counter and then sauntered to him. "Hi." he offered. "Hello Jeb. I need another bag or two. Can you help me out again?" "Got cash?" "No, not until tomorrow. Please let's not go through this again Jeb." "Hey, I'm just businessman Paris; I got costs and risks here." Jeb replied with a straight face. "Anyway, business has been good today, I've got bugger all left and I'm keeping it for paying customers. If I don't supply, my customers will go else where. You know what I'm saying?" It was just a little white lie, the fact was Sundays were usually slow and he did in fact have a nice stash hidden in the office. But Jeb wanted to negotiate to see what might be on offer. Paris leaned over the counter, "I'm not gonna suck your cock again if that's what you're thinking." Jeb pretended to be shocked, "That's okay, cause I really want to fuck you this time." Paris's face dropped, "That ain't ever gonna happen." He shrugged his shoulders, "Well you ain't getting high either. Looks like business is over, so if you ain't gonna buy a CD or somethin, you might as well leave. I've got paying customers here." Paris looked at him with contempt, but said nothing. She didn't need to, her face told the story. Jeb leaned over the counter towards her, "If you do come back, better bring condoms, I ain't got any here." Paris and the Drug Dealer Paris stormed angrily from the shop, walked to her car, and then drove around town for the next thirty minutes contemplating what her next move was. On the passenger seat lay the prescription pain killers, she considered taking them, but tossed them out the window to eliminate any temptation. She considered the unthinkable; could she let Jeb between her legs? She toyed with the idea, her rational mind telling her that it was wrong, but the growing warmth between her legs tempting her into lurid thoughts. It was a battle of mammoth proportions which put her lingering back pain in the background. She pictured herself on the couch with her legs spread wide as Jeb positioned his big black cock between pussy lips and lean into her. A warm flush of desire soared through her body, it had been a very long time since she'd felt that. Ten minutes later, Paris purchased condoms for the first time in her life. She held the young shop keepers lustful stare as he served her, his smirk quickly disappearing under her angry gaze. Paris returned to Jeb's shop and nervously paced the footpath outside for a few minutes before going in. She wanted to punch Jeb in the face when she saw his lecherous smile, but again pretended to browse until two customers left and they were alone. "Want me to lock the door." Jeb asked innocently. Unable to find her tongue, Paris nodded and headed for the office at the rear. Jeb joined her few seconds later; she stared at his smiling face and began to hate herself for what she was about to get into. "Just a quickie, and no rough stuff, okay?" she asked with false confidence. Jeb held up his hands in submission, "Sure, however you want it." "Need a joint first, to take the pain away and relax me." she demanded. Jeb rolled a joint and lit it before handing it over to Paris for the first puff, at first she took it from him and wandered the room ignoring him as she smoked it, but then offered him a turn. They shared the remainder joint in a nervous silence, Jeb stealing glances at her when ever he could. Paris looked extremely desirable in her blue skirt, her shapely legs visible from the knees down. A mauve top did little to hide the swell of her breasts, and Jeb could feel himself harden in anticipation. It was almost too good to be true, he thought to himself. Jeb took the last puff and then slipped the minute remains of the joint into a half filled coke bottle. Paris stood transfixed in the middle of the room looking nervously at Jeb, he stepped to her and placed his hand around her waist and lowered his lips to her neck. Kissing his way slowly upwards, he found her lips and gave her a little peck before allowing his tongue to slip between her lips. It took a few seconds before for Paris to reciprocate, but soon her tongue was playing with his. "I'm scared." she whispered breaking the first kiss. "Don't be scared." he replied. "I will be gentle with you. It'll be good, I promise." Paris allowed his tongue to slide back into her mouth, and they stood in a tight embrace for a short time before she felt his hands begin to wander downwards. She felt his warm hands lift her skirt high over her buttocks, and then caress the outside of her upper thighs and panties. He teased her by gently caressing around the front of her thighs but avoiding her pussy, she parted her legs slightly in invitation but was disappointed when he didn't take up her offer. Her arousal deepened as he kissed and caressed, and while Jeb was a big strong man, his gentleness and passion was unexpected, but now certainly welcome. His hands moved upwards and under her top, and her bra unsnapped in an instant, she leaned back as his wandering hands cupped her breasts, and after testing their weight began softly tweaking her nipples. Paris sighed with pleasure, as her nipples were highly sensitive. Lifting her top, Paris looked down as Jeb lowered his mouth to her nipples and began to suckle on them in turn. Paris smiled in appreciation of his soft lips, his hands now moving downwards again, over her navel and down over her thighs. Again she parted her thighs slightly in invitation, then shuddered as his hand this time slipped between them and began exploring her panties. She waited impatiently as his fingers eased aside the elastic, and then whimpered as her clitoris was touched for the first time. After a few seconds, it was just too much for Paris and her legs began to give way under her. Jeb simply and with ease, took her weight and lowered her lengthwise to the couch. Kneeling beside her, Jeb kissed her neck moving upwards to her mouth, her tongue slipped into his mouth as admission everything was still okay. Her top and tangled bra was lifted exposing her breasts, full and round with nipples pert. Moving downwards, he positioned himself over her breasts licking and sucking her proud nipples. Paris sighed deeply as the pleasure eased through her, and then spread her legs wide as she felt Jeb's hand slide up them. Again his fingers toyed with her panties before they were pushed aside, and again she jumped as her clitoris was found. She squirmed upwards onto his thick finger as it toyed with her opening. Jeb moved further down the couch and between her thighs, a pair of dark panties greeted his eyes, a darker patch over her pussy told of her arousal. Paris adjusted her position on the couch so that her pussy was a little more accessible. After a few little kisses on her thighs, Jeb lowered his face to her panties and savoured her musky scent and the warmth through the flimsy material. His tongue traced her panty line for a second or two; then with his fingers, eased them aside allowing his tongue to explore her lips beneath. "Take them off." Paris whispered after a few seconds and lifted her buttocks from the couch to make it easier. Seconds later, Jeb was looking at Paris's very fine pussy. A natural triangle of dark curls lay between her lovely thighs, thick in the middle hiding her lips, but thinner on the sides. Her thighs were slighter darker in colour than her usually panty covered navel, the result of a fading suntan. He ran his fingers through her curls before lowering his face between her lips. Paris sighed instantly and adjusted her position so that his tongue found her clitoris. She just loved having her pussy eaten, and it been a long time since that had happened. She quickly removed her top and tangled bra to free her breasts, and then closed her eyes. His hands held her thighs firmly as he worked her, her clitoris was kissed and licked, her lips suckled and nibbled, his nose sat very nicely on her clitoris as his tongue later explored her opening. "Do it harder." she encouraged. Jeb pushed his face her into Paris, and she pushed back at him to encourage him further. It soon became a torrid mangle of body parts as Paris rotated her buttocks against him, his face now mashed between her hot and sopping parted lips. He slipped a finger inside her and then another as his tongue concentrated on her clitoris. Paris's excitement knew no bounds as the pleasure soared through her body; she squirmed and pushed against Jeb face. She couldn't remember her pussy being licked so finely; was it his touch or just that she'd been neglected for too long? It took but a second to realise it didn't really matter, for she was going to cum real soon. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh, Jeb. That's real nice." she whispered in encouragement, although her thighs around his ears limited his ability to hear. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh." she whimpered soulfully as her orgasm arrived and thundered through her with all the force of a freight train. Jeb held her as best he could as she writhed beneath him, and kept working her until she slowly relaxed back onto the couch. She then moved backwards to escape his tongue on her now very sensitive clitoris. He kissed his way down each thigh and then knelt before her, her pussy was now shiny and wet; her curls flattened leaving her lips visible. Jeb undid his straining jeans and released his rock hard cock, and stroked it as he took in the sight before him. He moved forward with the intention of slipping his cock between her lips, when Paris opened her eyes and grinned at him. "Lay it on here." she suggested while pointing to her navel. Jeb placed his cock through her curls; its length reaching her belly button, Paris reached down and stroked the head. "You'd best go easy with that thing." "EASY?" he exclaimed. "Easy is my middle name." Paris laughed, "Why am I not surprised? I bet they don't any easier than you." Jeb pulled an insulted face as he lowered his cock between her lips and toyed with her clitoris for a second before moving downwards to her opening. She raised herself into more of a sitting position so that she could watch his big black cock slide in. "I sure hope this fits." Paris nervously commented as he eased himself into her. "Always fits." Jeb laughed. "It's all in the technique." Paris lay still as Jeb's cock penetrated her with slow careful strokes, she accepted his thick girth with surprising ease, no pain but her pussy reminding her it hadn't stretched like this before. She pulled a face as the length became a little uncomfortable. "You okay?" Jeb asked. "Yeah, just getting use to it. Is it all in?" "Yep, you got the lot." "Thank fuck for that." she commented carefully lying back onto the couch. "Just take it easy for a while." Jeb looked down at his cock; it was shiny from her juices as he moved back and forth with long slow strokes. Her pussy was warm and excitingly tight, and he was tempted to speed up, for he liked his sex fast and hard. His finger found her clitoris but was soon pushed away by Paris's hand. Too sensitive he was told. His gentleness soon removed any nervousness from Paris, and she found his large cock rather nice. She could feel his body touching hers, and knew that she was taking him fully. She continued for a short time before pulling him up and on top, her long legs pulling him in tight. His lips were soon on hers, and it soon became a very passionate affair. She adjusted her legs so that his cock was more comfortable, and then began to caress his well muscled body. It had been a good twelve years since Paris met her husband Mark, and hadn't had another man in her bed since. She's forgotten about the excitement of having a new man between her legs, not only about the size of his cock, but the foreplay and how his body fitted on yours, the little mannerisms, like how he kissed and touched, and all of those sorts of things. She liked Jeb's hard wide body on hers, her legs stretched wide around him. He was a good looking and had a certain charisma, his cheekiness and sense of humour hard to ignore when she first came into the shop. Jeb began to pick up speed, and Paris surprisingly met his every thrust. Their bodies were soon slapping noisily together as they rode each other with passion. "You okay down there?" he soon inquired. "So far so good." she panted and gave him a kiss for caring. Their bodies were soon slippery in sweat, Paris's face was red from exertion and her hair tangled beneath her as she was ridden unmercifully. Eventually, it became too much and Jeb slowed down and collapsed on her. They lay bodies intertwined for a short time as they caught their breath. "Wanna try another position?" he then asked." "Sure." Jeb slipped from her, his cock falling heavily as it slipped out. After getting to his feet, he eased Paris to a standing position and kissed her before turning her around towards the couch. He then eased the couch from the wall and stood at one end. "Lean over here." Jeb said. Paris caught on and lay face down along the length of the back of the couch, then made herself comfortable. She felt Jeb's hands on her buttocks moving her closer so that her pussy was in the right place for him. She sighed as his cock slipped back inside her, and steadied herself by placing one knee on the arm of the couch for balance. Placing his hands around Paris's waist, Jeb began working his cock back and forth. Her pussy felt tight in the new position, and soon heard little moans of appreciation. Once comfortable, he allowed his hands to roam over her round buttocks and flared thighs. He watched with interest as her wide stretched pussy lips moved in and out with each stroke. His eyes ran along Paris's curvy and took in her breasts as they poked out on either side of the back of the couch. Paris's face was turned to the side and lay across one arm as support, while her eyes were closed, a smile explained her satisfaction. The angle of his cock had produced a small and unexpected vaginal orgasm which kind of just snuck up on her by surprise. It was good old selfish sex, just lying on the couch being taken by a true master. She liked her pussy stretched wide and filled up with his hardness; she enjoyed his technique, fast and firm without being over the top. "Okay to cum inside?" Jeb eventually asked. "Do your best, I'm on the pill." Jeb replaced his hands around her waist and began to pick up the pace, her buttocks now distorting with each thrust. She groaned as he worked towards his orgasm, and sensed his cock expand as his cum exploded into her, the gooey liquid providing additional noisy lubricate as his cock plunged back and forth until he was spent. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, fuck that was sooooo good." he announced. "Mmmmmmmmm, wasn't too bad from this end either." Paris replied. Eventually, Jeb stepped back and allowed his cock to fall from her, his cum began to run from her and towards the couch. Looking around, he picked up a clean dish towel and quickly placed it under her. He then lowered himself to the couch and looked up at Paris with a cheeky grin; she promptly slid off the couch on top of him and cuddled up. Making sure the towel was in the appropriate place; Paris relaxed and gave him a peck on the lips. "How was that?" he asked. "Not bad." she lied running a finger over his dark cheat. "Well, quite good really. Was I okay too?" "You're not a bad piece of ass. You can really get low down and dirty for a lil old white girl." "Hey hey hey, not too much of the old, thank you." she laughed and gave him a playful slap on the chest. "Well, at least you're kind of nice to me now, not like when you first came into the shop." Paris looked up at him, "Sorry about that, I was kind of a bitch wasn't I? "That's an understatement; it was like I wasn't good enough to talk to." "It was because I was embarrassed about being seen in the shop buying grass, the thought of getting busted or seeing someone I knew was a worry. I just wanted to get in and out quickly as I could." "Thought it might've been cause I was black." Paris kissed him on the cheek, "Nah, I find black men kinda interesting; anyway, you know you're good looking. Trouble is; you're a bit of a smart arse with it." Jeb puffed his chest out, "That's not being a smart arse, that's just superior customer service." "Customer service?" Paris choked. "I ain't had customer service like this before." "See what you been missing all your life, pretty girl like you been missing out. You wanna tell all your girl friends about the service they can get around here." "What was I saying about you being a smart arse?" They lay quietly together and drifted off in a light slumber, their bodies cooling down after the long ordeal. Jeb soon opened his eyes and took in Paris's beauty, her right breast lying on his chest and her thighs slightly apart giving him a glimpse of her curls. He felt himself harden at her body, and placed her hand over his shaft. "Mmmm." she murmured taking him in hand and stroking his length. "I don't know what you're intending do with this, but it ain't going in my pussy. It's plum worn out." "A little blow job?" he asked hopefully. "Mmmmm, maybe." she answered without conviction. "Gonna have to wash it first, you're not sticking your dirty dick in my mouth." Jeb grinned as he eased himself from the couch and headed for the bathroom, she heard the water running and he returned with a warm face cloth. Sitting beside Paris, he removed the towel from between her legs, and then gently wiped her pussy clean. "See what I mean about service? Bet you don't get this sort of treatment too often." Jeb commented. "It's your cum, you should clean it up." she countered while slipping from the couch. Waiting for Jeb to lie down, she knelt beside him and took his rigid cock in hand; she stroked it a few times before lowering her mouth over it. He moaned with pleasure as her tongue explored the head and glands. After finishing the foreplay, Paris was about to settle into a serious rhythm when Jeb eased her from the floor into the 69 position above him. She adjusted pussy over his face and then lowered it for a licking before taking him back into her mouth. But after a few minutes, her well worn pussy lips proved they were now past being played with. "It's a bit sore down there, just tongue my clit." Paris asked. Jeb obliged and slipped his tongue up to her clitoris, he gently licked and kissed her as his hands caressed the outside of her thighs. His eyes focused on Paris's pussy, her lips were pink and puffy under the flattened curls, her entrance open enough to see the pinkness of her tunnel. He marvelled how nice and tight it felt over his cock. At the other end, Paris was having trouble concentrating on Jeb's blow job, his tongue working her clit was more than a little distraction. While she wasn't up for another orgasm, it still felt real good. Eventually, she lifted her pussy from his face and began to work his cock with enthusiasm. It was a nice cock to suck, long enough to stoke as she sucked, she enjoyed the colour contrast, her white hands sliding over his ever so dark shaft. From time to time, she moved forward and stroked her nipples with his cock before taking him back into her mouth. Eventually, she sensed his excitement, placing her mouth just over the head, her hand worked swiftly on the shaft as he began to shudder beneath her. Removing her mouth just in the nick of time, she took his cum on her chin and cheek and milked him dry with her hand. With her clean hand, she wiped the cum from his cock and then suckled him for a short time; he writhed and squirmed as her tongue slipped into the eye of his cock. "Holy hell, stop it, you're killing me." he wheezed. "Good." she commented wiping her face over his navel to rid herself of his gooey mess. Finding the facecloth on the floor, she made a better job of it before laying across Jeb's exhausted body. They lay quietly for a short time in each others arms before stirring and sitting up. Paris winced as her back reminded her once again how she got into this predicament. "Wanna another joint?" Jeb asked. Paris shook her head, "Better not, I gotta drive. I'll wait till I get home." A now more considerate Jeb then helped Paris dress, first her bra and panties, and then her top and skirt. He knelt before her and slipped her shoes on while stealing a glance up her skirt; Paris caught him and laughed giving him a playful smack for his troubles. He then helped onto her feet and held her in his arms for a few seconds before she pulled away and gave him a peck on the lips. She smiled when he handed over a substantial bag of grass; she took it gratefully and placed in her handbag. Finding the box of forgotten condoms, she tossed them across to him and grinned, "You owe me for these." Their eyes met, and they both searched their souls for a few seconds, Paris stepped to him and hugged him briefly. "It's okay; I'm not sorry what we did." "I feel bad now." Jeb murmured. "It's okay, and the sex was out of this world." she replied before turning to walk out the door. Paris and the Drug Dealer It was a thoughtful drive home for Paris, for she'd committed adultery for the first time in her life. She knew it was wrong, but it had been the best sex she'd ever had. What was done was done, she thought to herself, and now she would just have to live with it. The following Friday night while driving home from a dinner party, her husband Mark confessed that he was in love with someone else and wanted a separation. While Mark's affair was of no surprise to Paris, the shock of the disintegration of their marriage was sealed in a single sentence. The next morning, her husband packed his bags and left their home for the last time. She allowed herself one day to cry, not that she was despondent that Mark had left her, but for the sake of all those unfilled dreams of togetherness that would now never come to fruition. The fact that she had slept with Jeb had somehow made her more confident and strong willed, and maybe a little more prepared to take on the world. Two weeks later, Paris visited Jeb at the shop, and so began a secretive relationship that would last for eighteen months. She had her girlfriends for companionship, and Jeb for good sex, what more could any girl want? It was a perfect relationship; they traded in the old couch for Jeb's bed and spent many an hour ravishing each other's bodies in good old fashioned dirty sex. Jeb finally graduated and accepted a good job out of town, and so ended their torrid little evenings of debauchery. Not long after Jeb's departure, Paris began dating again. She decided that life was too short, and didn't want to be alone anymore. She just wanted someone to hold and love her, and treat her how a lady should be treated, and in turn she would ensure her man's happiness. It would be three long years before that man finally arrived into her life, and Paris willingly gave herself body and soul. In those happy years ahead, she would sometimes wonder about Jeb and what he might now be doing. She didn't regret for one minute what they'd done, and nor would she ever forget him, it would forever remain her dark little secret. Paris at Night By Romane and Translate by Solitary Dreamer. Paris is the original title of this fantasy. Paris at Night I am just waking up after having experienced quite an excellent night. My body is still a bit sore, but my senses have had time to rest, or, at least, have had enough time to rest. It is necessary to write down some part of what came to happen, so as to not to forget, although I doubt that I would really forget it. I am now wearing a negligee, open on the side, so as to be at ease, and to be able to caress myself if I so desire. Here is my story: Having subscribed to cable television, I discovered one evening, some time ago, a program whose unconditional fan I quickly became. Even though this program airs late at night, I never miss an episode. There is this character on the show who runs, with a camera on his shoulder, throughout the capital. He goes to known places and to others very peculiar. He meets strange and familiar people alike, and interviews them in a relaxed way. But its final minutes are what I like most about this program. They always involve sexual situations. We always see encounters that are very unique. Here are a few: -- In a movie theater, difficult to find, the interviewer finds people wearing masks in a screening room. A sort of loyal man appears, and invites everyone to join him on the spot. A couple gets up, the woman in latex, the man covered from head to toe, and with a chain around his neck. They go before the audience, and the woman begins to whip her slave right in front of her impassive spectators. The man’s cock begins to swell. The woman brings another lady onto the scene, and gives the girl her whip. The girl then whips the man as the woman sucks on his cock. -- The interviewer shows up at an adult arcade with peep shows, and finds a porn actress entertaining for the evening completely naked. He interviews the beauty. -- We are shown an apartment in whose shower-bath a ravishing woman, in a black dress that clings to her body, dances in front of three captivated men. The beauty gets naked. She has a tattoo right above her cute ass. She then announces to the men that she is the head of a large company. She joins her companions, and kisses them greedily while they flatter her body with kisses and caresses. We cut to another room where a woman also offers herself to three men. -- A crowd gathers around a vehicle. There is a woman caressing herself, and undressing, right in front of the lustful gaze of passers-by. -- The interviewer waits along a sidewalk of the Champs-Elysée. A convertible stops right in front of him. A blonde with short hair, in the clothes of a man, is at the wheel, and a brunette, with a blouse and short skirt, is her passenger. He climbs into the car, and interviews the girls as they drive off. The brunette takes of her blouse before reaching the Arc de Triomphe. With her breasts exposed, she stands so that everyone around can see her. She finishes by taking off her skirt and showing off her black thong on the roundabout of the Star, where cars honk furiously in her presence. The girl offers a throaty laugh, quite thrilled. -- Swinging couples, in the booths of an adult shop, make love in front of everyone, while certain spectators join the couples in their fun. -- We see a cafe where a woman, totally naked, recites poems. -- We are treated to a birthday party where out-of-control girls, in a limousine, offer their young breasts to the anxious mouths of the men in their presence. -- The interviewer speaks with a salesman of sex toys in his shop. (He has dildos of all types and functions, whips, collars, etc.). Our cameraman climbs on stage, and comes across a couple kissing greedily. A woman looks at them. We learn from her that the two are both women. It is obvious that the woman who dominates, who chains the other girl to the edge of a small table, has a masculine appearance. She unfastens the girl’s shirt, and then her bra. The dominant woman devours the chest of her submissive companion. She hikes up the girl’s skirt, and pulls her panties to the side in order to masturbate the girl’s wet pussy energetically. The scene ends with the expected culmination of such naughty play. -- There is also this couple who approaches young women in bars or on the streets and asks them, in exchange for a small sum, to perform a striptease in front of the camera. A ravishing blonde woman accepts their proposal. She and her friend take the couple to a relative’s apartment. For a more substantial fee, the couple asks the young woman’s friend to accompany her in her exhibitionism, but she declines. The young woman puts on a disc, and begins to dance in front of the couple and her friend. Slowly she strips. One can imagine the treasure that the young woman’s jeans hold. The young woman wears magnificent lingerie made of white lace. The sight is ravishing. She honors the contract by getting totally naked. One could eat her up, since she is so cute. Once the show ends, the young woman feels no modesty, and remains naked without covering her breasts or her pussy. The couple again asks the friend if she wants to undress for them. Her response is less categorical. Under their insistent demand, and encouraged by her friend, she decides to expose her breasts, and pulls off her T-shirt. It happens quite often that the interviewer leaves us hungry for more. I imagine what will follow, and masturbate like I am crazy. But I have not told you what is at the top of my list. A young blonde woman, dressed in a white sundress, her eyes covered, rings a doorbell. A man, clearly sickly, sees the clothes that she wears, and opens the door. He takes the young woman by the hand, and gently directs her throughout the place. He hands her over to a handsome young man, and then sits down in an armchair. Candles alone illuminate the room. She caresses the young man’s chest, and he her lovely ass. The master of the house opens a book, and begins to read an erotic passage. Slowly the couple undresses and begins to kiss tenderly. Her cute little white G-string, can be seen through her almost transparent dress as she slides out of it. Her G-string, the last rampart of her intimacy soon joins her dress on the floor. The young woman turns around, and begins to caress her breasts and pussy right in front of the camera. The man then leads her to a small bed where he spreads her out. The young couple make love in front of the master of the house, who continues to read throughout their lovemaking. The girl keeps on her blindfold during all of the excitement. What I had seen that evening haunted me throughout the night. I woke up in a sweat. I had to masturbate so as to calm my senses. I forgot little by little, but, three times a month, the image returned, and I jilled as though I was a madwoman. Time passed, and the program continued to air. The last sequence became one my favorite fantasies. I imagined myself, with eyes blindfolded, offering my body to the caresses and avid mouths of my lovers. At the thought of it, I orgasmed like a crazy woman. For a year, I did not have a single sexual encounter, simply living with my fantasies. I could wait no longer. I needed to realize my fantasy. I made a call to the company who distributes the program, and got in touch with the show’s producer. He gave in to my request, and gave me appointment for an evening the next week. When the night arrived, I dressed up, most exhilarated on account of the circumstances, in what I dared to be filmed wearing. I put on a light dress, easy to pull off, no bra, a black G-string and garter belts. I put on my coat, and went to my rendezvous. I did not wait long on the edge of the sidewalk. I could not miss the very distinctive car. I climbed in, my heart beating, into the passenger’s seat, and the interview began. I told that it had been a year since I had made love, and that that had became difficult. That was why I wanted to meet with someone who would participate in this type of encounter. I wanted to imitate a scene from one of his programs. I told the interviewer what I had seen, and what I had felt. He picked up the telephone, and called the person in question. “Are you ready,” he looked over and asked me. “Oh, yes!” He waited for the person to answer his call. “Hello! It’s me. I said that I would call back! I am the person whom you spoke to earlier. Yes, yes she is always in the mood. Hmm . . . hmm.” He adjusted the phone, and looked over toward me. “They want to know what you want to do.” “I can choose?” “Yes!” “Hmm. A couple, if it is possible.” I was getting horny, and began to soak my G-string from excitement. “She wants a couple. Hmm . . . yes. In twenty minutes.” He looked at me. “I hope the tension she feels will not keep her from her rendezvous.” I signalled that it would not. “That’s fine, we’ll be there in twenty minutes. Right away.” He hung up. My tension would not go away, quite the contrary. I spoke to him about my favorite scenes from the show, those at the end of the broadcast. The twenty minutes passed rapidly. “In the glove box, you will find your blindfold. You can put it on now. Our friend wants to remain incognito for the moment.” I put the blindfold over my eyes. My heart beat very fast. We continued to speak. I began to relax, but my heart started to race again when the car stopped. He helped me out. He accompanied me, and rang the doorbell. “Good evening!” “Good evening!,” I said instinctively. “Then it is you who wants to get naughty?” “Yes!” “Can’t argue with that!” There was no way to back out. I had not come all this way to say no. “Yes, I am ready.” He took me by the hand. “Go over there! Are you a little nervous?” “Quite!” “That won’t last.” “I bet.” He stopped, and took off my coat. “You are very beautiful!” “Thank you.” He put my hand into another’s, and this person made me kiss his hand. “I present to you, Mr . . . your partner for this evening.” He led me into another room. “Kneel,” he said softly. I obeyed. There was a mattress, and cushions, on the ground. I felt another pair of hands grab me, finer hands, the hands of a woman. They pulled off my dress. With that, I was caught up in the heat of the moment. With my hands, I explored the body of the girl who kissed me. The man was no longer participating. Her kisses were divine. My breasts were victim to her voracious mouth. I slid my hand into her panties and played with her pussy. I then kissed her breasts. I rolled her nipples and breasts around with my tongue, which provoked moans from my female lover. Two hands grabbed my face. Something pressed against my lips. I recognized that it was a hard cock. I opened my mouth, and swallowed. I offered this cock superb fellatio. I knelt, resting my elbows on my partner’s thighs, so as to be at greater ease in my work. He held my head while I pumped his cock vigorously. I have been told that I am quite good at this game, a skill that I owe to a female friend from America. He did not hesitate to show me his satisfaction. Two hands were placed on my hips, and my moist panties were slid down my legs. A finger was slipped between my juicy pussy lips. My body trembled. The finger left my vulva, and I heard a moan of satisfaction. I guess, based upon what I would have done, that the girl had tasted my passionate nectar. Two hands were placed on my ass. A tongue licked my wet and juicy pussy lips. I moaned, the cock always in my mouth. The girl lapped up my juices, then greedily kissed my intimacy. I had goose bumps. She spread my lips, and her tongue penetrated me. It was divine. I came several times in the mouth of this girl who would not stop her divine torture. My male partner finished by pumping his seed into my mouth. I swallowed, because my American friend told me her partners liked to be licked clean. I pushed the girl back, and decided to bestow the same pleasure upon her. I pulled down her panties, and lapped up her juices like a cat. She began to moan more and more. The man had not lost his enthusiasm. He took me on all fours, from behind. Even though I had not made love in a year, I was having my way. I drank the subtlest of liqueurs in the most beautiful chalice that exists, while a well-endowed man vigorously took me from behind. I finished by having my orgasm, just as the girl had hers. Despite my orgasm, I drank up her orgasmic pussy juices. The girl grabbed my head, drew me toward her, and kissed me tenderly. I offered her her nectar from my mouth. We stayed there, me between my two partners, recuperating while kissing and caressing. My Pygmalion took leave. We made love again, and my blindfold was removed at the end of the night. The interviewer had filmed the entire scene, and offered me the cassette. He also gave me his telephone number, realizing that I am very well-endowed, and that other persons would want to do what I had just done. I promised to think about it, already knowing my reply. After a last kiss with my two lovers, I left them. Of course, I accepted the offer, and made some small amateur films that ended with scenes similar to the one that I performed with the couple. I had a long and exquisite affair with the girl, off camera. The man I saw a little bit in the beginning, but then he left the capital. The fact that I have been filmed very much excites me. Paris Bound She shivered. "Are you cold babe?" He had the heat cranked all the way up. Even naked he felt a sheen of sweat on his forehead but her comfort was more important. "No. Nervous." "Good nervous or bad nervous?" "Good." The frown faded but he did not smile. "Okay then?" She nodded but did not speak. He stood and moved to sit on the bed beside her. She followed him with her eyes, her nervousness evident in the stiffness of her body. Her hands moved. She was not sure whether to cover her breasts, her crotch or leave them at her side. He could see she felt leaving them at her side would seem more nonchalant but the way the fingers plucked a the sheet made clear her tension. Was he moving too quickly? He bent and kissed her forehead. "Hey, this is suppose to be fun, if it isn't we can stop, cuddle, sleep, go out for a beer, watch bad TV, or make love, whatever you want." She smiled, a mostly true smile. "No, I want to. I'm just not use to lying naked on bed in broad daylight, even with my husband." He tilted his head a bit to look at her straight on. "Should we invite him?" She gasped then started to giggle. She stopped abruptly and looked at him. "That was a joke right?" He smiled, a mostly true smile and nodded "yes" to which she let out a long sigh. He glanced at the window. He had pulled the sheer panels closed. Beyond the alley the windows in the brickwall all had shades pulled. The fire escape was rusty and hung at a strange angle looking for all the world like a decaying robotic mantis clinging to the side of the building. He wasn't sure the building was even in use. "Do you want me to close the drapes? I can turn the desk lamp on. We need some light. I don't think anyone is in that building and if they were I'm not sure any of the windows are angled so that they could see us on the bed but we can pull the drapes if you want." Her face stilled as she thought. She can a quick shake of her head. "No. It's okay. You can leave them open." He nodded, pleased. "Good. I love looking at your body, usually all I have are pictures; I'm dying to savor and see as much of the real you as I can." She smile but he could see anxiety creeping back into her face. It would be better to keep moving, less time for second thoughts. He leaned away from her and picked her panties up from where they had fallen when he had undressed her. He had done so lazily enjoying her confused look. Normally, they ripped at each other and came almost before they fell into bed. This time they had three days, well three nights anyway. He had kissed her deeply then asked her if she was up for something a little different. He had replied "trust me" when she asked what. She did trust him and confused or not she had stood still as he had very deliberately unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off her shoulders. He knelt and slipped off first one then the other sandal. Still kneeling, he unbutton her jeans, pausing to kiss the belly exposed in the V-shaped gap of her jeans. Her hands found his hair. He stopped, kissed each palm and put her hands back at her sides, looked in her eyes and shook his head softly "no". When she was still he unzipped her jeans and slid them off her hips and legs, dropping them atop her blouse. She had black silk bikini bottoms, not quite a thong. The material was quite thin and tight enough for him to see the outlines of her sex. The mass of compressed curls was small. She had shaved. She had never done that before, at least not for him. The panties rode low and the top of the pubic hair she had not shaved curled over the band. He kissed her through the cloth, only once, a quick peek that if applied to the cheek would have been chaste. She shivered. He stood, praying his knees didn't pop. He ran his hands lightly from her shoulders down her bare arms. He stepped to the side, reached behind her and open the clasp of her bra. He eased it off her arms. It joined the heap of clothes on the floor. He enjoyed the sight of her nipples hardening. He saw her arms begin to moved and stopped them with a light touch of his fingers. She had looked at him. He had given her an open look and asked again for her to trust him. When she nodded he dropped to his knees once more. He leaned closed and inhaled her scent before hooking a finger on either side of her panties and pulling them off. Though it felt like hours ago it had only been fifteen minutes since he had open the door to her tentative knock. She had jumped when she saw he was naked and for the first time he had wondered if this was a good idea after all. He stood, hoping her nerves really were the "good" kind. "Give me your hand babe." Fighting to control his impatience for her, he had stood, took her by the hand and lead her to the bathroom. No hotel in Paris was cheap, including this one, but it was older and sported the small, cramped by American standards, bathroom of older European hotels. There was a tub, too small for two. He would have forbade himself the pleasure in any case, unsure of his willpower. He stopped at the closet and pulled one of the robes from its hanger. It was plush. He let go of her hand and slipped the robe over her shoulders. He was hot but he took the other robe and tossed it across the foot of the bed. He kissed his lover on the cheek and then stooped to run her a bath. The flight from JFK was long. In all their years they had never traveled together but he felt safe in assuming the grimy sticky "I don't want to do anything but shower" feeling after a long flight was universal. He wanted her to relax. This crazy idea of his was destined to fail if she wasn't relaxed. It was hard to relax if you were worried your feet, or anything else, stank. Her lover smiled at her over his shoulder. "Hot or just warm?" "Hot please," she whispered. He tested the water and inserted the old-fashioned rubber plug. Old-fashion or not he knew the thing would work. Anything he didn't have to worry about was a plus at the moment. He turned and slipped the robe from her shoulders, draping across one arm as he imagined a lady in waiting would do for a princess. He held out his hand and she steady herself with the tip of his fingers as she stepped into the tub. He held her hand as she sat. He heard the hiss of her breath as she did so. "Too hot?" She shook her head. "No, takes a minute to get use to it." He had left for a moment then, stepping back into the room to toss her robe onto the bed. He retrieved the soap from the wicker basket on the shelf behind the tub and a wash cloth. He knelt beside the tub and dipped the washcloth into the water rising around her back. He held the cloth above her right shoulder, letting the water choose whether to cascade down her back or over her breasts. He dipped the cloth and repeat the gesture above her left shoulder. Her head bent forward and he let the water run over her exposed neck. He wrapped the cloth around the fingers of his right hand, dipped the soap and lathered the cloth. He washed her back. Leaning across the tub he took her right arm and washed it, then the left. Her legs and then her chest. Her chest was difficult. It took all his willpower to keep his hand moving, to not stop and play. "On your knees love." He whispered after kissing her cheek. She did as he asked. He lather his hands and reached between her legs. She had offered no protest. Keeping his focus while washing her breast had been hard, doing so while washing her sex was almost impossible. He had rub the soapy cloth up and down the crack of her ass, pressing with his fingers a little. This was unexplored territory for them. When she stiffened he pulled his hand away. "Hair?" He asked. She shook her head. He rinsed his hands in the water and pulled the drain plug. As the water gurgled away he turned the taps on, adjusted the water and use the shower attachment to rinse her body. He could not resist playing the spray over and between her legs longer than technically necessary. Standing he grabbed one of the long plush towels from the shelf. She stood and he enveloped her in the towel as she stepped from the tub. He dried her, softly and slowly with several pauses for kisses and nuzzles. He lead her to the side of the bed, on which she now sat, unsure of what to do with her hands. He grasped her right hand. He kissed the palm then slip one leg of the panties over the hand. He twisted them a few times. The panties were still loose but unable to slide down her arm. "Now your other hand." She held her hand across her body. He kissed it. Twisted the other side of her panties and slipped it loosely over her other wrist. He tapped her left hand. "Pull it out". She did. He slip the silk panty cuff back over her hand. "See, you can get out anytime. Just say stop or pull your hands out. Okay?" She nodded. He leaned over the side of the bed and rummaged through her clothes. When he sat up he held her bra. "Lie down love." She swung her feet into the bed and sat resting her back against the headboard. "Go ahead and lie down, on your back." She did so. "Scoot down a bit babe, so you have room to raise your arms." Once again she did as he asked. He knelt on the bed near her shoulder and moved her arms above her head. He arranged the pillow under her head. "That okay? Shoulders okay?" "Yes," she whispered. He slid one end of her bra between her wrists, looping it under the panties. Leaning forward he tucked the ends of the bra between the mattress and headboard. "It's only the mattress holding it. If you want to stop just pull it loose. If you aren't comfortable tell me and I'll adjust your pillow. Okay?" A quick nod. He cupped her face and kissed her softly. "Hi beautiful." She smile, a real smile. "Hi yourself." He stood up and turned from the bed. She started to sit up a frown on her face. "Where are you going?" He stepped back to the bed. Settled her on the pillow and kissed her forehead as he tucked the bra behind the mattress once more. "Trust me. Just to the bottom of the bed love. I think you'll enjoy this but if you want to stop we can." "No." "Okay babe, then lie still." He picked up one of the two heavy robes and pulled the sash from it, tossing it on the bed. He removed the sash from the second one. He folded both robes and sat them on the bench at the end of the bed. Sitting on the end of the bed he folded one of the sashes in half, draped it across her ankle and pulled the ends through the loop. He pulled it only it was snug but not tight, lifted her foot and moved it toward the side of the bed then tucked the ends of the sash beneath the mattress. He didn't ask her if she was okay this time. He simply moved to the other side of the bed and repeated the process. "You comfortable? Legs not to far apart?" "No but I feel all exposed." "That's the idea baby. You look gorgeous. You are all wet. I can see it." She was wet. The lips of her pussy glistened in the late afternoon light that filled the room. His cock twitched at the sight. Part of him, want to stop now, fall on the bed and bury his face in her cunt. He never used that word. He was afraid she would not like the word and avoid using it. She never said "dick" or "cock", when the need arose it was always "you" as in, "I like the way you feel in my hand". So he did the same. There was nothing derogatory about the word in his mind. He adored her cunt, worshipped her cunt. He put his hand on her knee as she started to move. "Do you want to stop sweetheart?" She shook her head. "Then don't move. Don't be embarrassed. It's killing me not to just jump on you but we have a little time for once. I think we can make it crazy good if you want to try?" "Okay." He hopped off the bed and turned toward the closet. When he returned he carried a small black gym bag. He sat it down. She could not see but could hear him unzip the bag. He sat up and held a bright red scarf in one hand. He turned and knelt on the bed at her side. "Look at me. Look at what you do to me." His voice was hoarse. He held his erection in one hand, squeezing softly. She could see she wasn't the only one who was wet. The head of his cock was shiny, a large drop of clear fluid clinging to it. He took the red scarf and wipe his forehead with it. He rubbed it across his chest, up and down his thighs and then hammocked his erection with it. He bounced himself up and down, watching her stare at his erection. He took the now damp scarf in one hand, put it over his erection. He stroked and squeezed, milking his dick, creating a smear of darker red in the center of the scarlet. She watched fascinated wondering what was next. Her eyes left his cock and she looked at him, looking expectant now not nervous. He never taken his eyes off hers. He could see desire glow deep inside them. As if reading her thoughts he choked out, "I figured you would be the one to call it quits but it is all I can do not to crawl between your legs and fuck you baby. I don't mean make love, as much as I want to do that, I mean plain old fuck you." She shook her head. "No. Not yet. Don't stop." Her voice was a husky whisper that cut through his lust, or simply refocused it. He shook his head as if to clear it and nodded. "Okay. Remember you aren't really tied down and all you have to do is say stop and we stop, Okay?" "Yes." He heard the pause in her voice and waited. "You aren't going to hurt me are you?" "Huh?", he asked, genuinely confused. "No, never babe. I want to ramp up the tension but no pain." Leaning forward he settled the scarf over her face. She could smell him on the cloth. It was strong but not unpleasant. She liked his smell. "I know you can see through that but I think it will be more intense if you close your eyes. You can always look if you want." She nodded and closed her eyes. He smiled and turned to the open bag on the floor beside the bed. -------------- She closed her eyes. There was a challenge in his tone. She was not a competitive person but a challenge was a challenge. It had been nearly two years since she had seen him in the flesh. His hair had a tad more grey but was all there. He had lost weight. Part of her hoped that was for her, though she had done all she could think of to assure him she didn't care about his waist size. She felt more confused than nervous. Her stomach had been dancing since before the bounce of the plane announced she was back on the ground. Seeing Paris again was not something she had imagined. Yet here she was. In Paris. In her lover's hotel room. Naked. "Tied" to the bed. Her life had turned into one of the drugstore romances her mother use to devour. She almost giggled but swallowed it. She was confused. She wanted him, now not later. At first she had been afraid he'd changed his mind, that he was going to tell her it was off. A naked greeting, a bath and being tied, however loosely, to his bed had relieved that fear. This was not how she had envisioned the scene unfolding as she tried to sleep on the long flight from JFK but she had decided if he could wait, so could she. She was not a competitive person but as he had hesitated, holding the red scarf, staring at her, at her naked sprawled body with open lust, she had decided he would be the one to give in, quit the game and make love to her, not her. She felt the mattress shift as he sat up. She resisted the urge to open her eyes and see what he was doing. She drew in a slow breath, amazed that his scent felt so normal after only a handful of meetings. The time they had spent together, even in their youth, could not amount to more than a few weeks. The time spent making love, perhaps not even days. Could it be she wondered that they had spent less than a day wrapped around each other? The thought made her feel like crying. She pushed the sadness away. She would have plenty of time for it later. She breathed deep again and imagine she could smell fresh cut grass mixed with the smell of his body. She breathed deeply again and remembered how her basement had smelled, the slightly dusty smell of the couch, and how her hand had smell after she had tugged it from inside his jeans. It smelled like this. It smelled like her lover. She knew she would always be able to smell him, a quiet moment with closed eyes and he'd be there. She smiled. She smiled and then she shivered as something brushed, very softly, along the inside of her arm. ---------- It took a moment for him to locate what he was looking for. As he straightened he thought he saw her lips twitch in a smile. Good. Her obvious anxiety had made him question the wisdom of his plan. A smile was much better. His eyes swept from her face, past the softening nipples of her breasts to the tiny patch of dark hair. No, he smiled. He intended to get a much closer look at her handiwork but not yet. He shifted slightly, leaning, careful not to let his erection touch her. He shook his head ruefully, recalling the amused, or perhaps incredulous, look on the clerk's face as he had made his purchases in stumbling non-existent French. He had responded "oui" to a question he interpreted as "would you care for a truffle". The clerk smirked and dropped a handful of free condoms into the bag. It was a clear plastic bag of course. He suspected plastic bags were outlawed everyone in France except in sex shops. It didn't help the clerk was younger than his daughter and sported a multi-colored mohawk and a tattooed skull. The tattoo looked like various poses from the Kama Sutra but not wanting to appear rude he had strained to not gawk. The feather was pink of course. Why pink he wondered, what was wrong with red or black or white? It wasn't a real feather or course, or least he assumed not. Real or not, time to put it to use but where? Since he was closer to her head than her feet he elected to start high and work down. He leaned and touched just the tip of the feather to her right wrist as close to the twisted panties as he could without touching the left arm as well. He heard the slightest hitch in her breathing. He stole a look at her face, hazy behind the red scarf. Her eyes were closed. He drew a soft line down the inside of her arm, quick little strokes, almost as if he were sketching. The skin of her arm dimpled into goosebumps but her breathing remained steady. Reaching her elbow he drew a line down the crease then skipped the feather as lightly as he could back down the other side of her arm. The image of sketching was powerful and he decided to work with it. He gazed at the shadows of her arm and began to use the tip of the feather to fill them in. He leaned back as if to study what he had drawn. Satisfied he turned his attention to the arm above the elbow. He drew an invisible outline of her arm then filled in the shadows. He leaned over his work. His breath flutter the edge of the scarf lying over her face. Her shoulder, extended as it was over her head, was a mass of shadow. He was careful not to touch her side or her chest. He was working on the arm. Finished, he turned to look at the side of her face. He pursed his lips and blew softly, as if soothing a burn. The scarf flutter and she held her breath. He lay the feather between her arms and with great care folded the scarf so it lay across her eyes. He rested his head on her shoulder, his chest atop his thighs, and began to draw her profile with the feather. Her nose crinkled as the tip of the feather glided down the side and around to trace the right side of her upper lip. Her lip twitched and he thought she would "pfftt" as one would if a feather was tickling one's lip but she didn't and he smiled. ---------- She couldn't do anything about the goose bumps but she was determined not to try to blow the feather away from her lips. For one thing she was getting into this challenge, realizing however it ended they both would win. But more important than that, maddening as it was she didn't want him to stop. She ached for him to do more, knowing that aching was the point.