1 comments/ 43418 views/ 2 favorites I Saw You By: 70minus1 After a long day Beth was looking forward to the evening's entertainment. The post conference meal and dancing would be starting soon and she was preparing herself in her hotel room. She had showered and applied her make up and was standing naked in front of a full length mirror deciding whether to wear her long, dark hair up or down. Three or four times she held it up, took a look in the mirror and then, let it fall again, unsure of which way she preferred it. Eventually she chose down. She slid on a pair of sheer, white panties. The dark triangular bush at the top of her legs was clearly visible through the thin material as she positioned them. Next, she squeezed her ample breasts into a white 36C bra. She knew it was a little too small but liked the way it squeezed her tits tightly together, enhancing their appearance. Beth then dressed her legs in black, hold up stockings. The dark, lace, tops contrasted with the creamy white of her thighs. She felt a tingle of excitement as she surveyed herself in the mirror and allowed her fingers to gently trace up and down the lips of her pussy through the material of her panties. She stopped herself. Her outfit was completed with a one piece, black, velvet dress which was just above knee length and had a single zipper down the back. Slipping black heels onto her feet she took one last look at herself and then left the room for the party. After drinks in the bar everyone made their way into the main function suite where tables were laid out ready to accommodate the attendees. A table plan was positioned on the way in and Beth made her way to her designated table and took a seat. Of the ten people that eventually filled the table Beth knew four or five of them already, within a short space of time everyone had introduced themselves to each other and conversation was flowing as freely as the wine. Three seats away from Beth sat Jed Matthews. He and Beth had spoken many times on the phone in numerous conference calls but this was the first time that they had actually met. He was a good looking man, his large, blue eyes looked directly into Beth's as they spoke at the table and she couldn't stop the lustful thoughts that were developing in her imagination. She had only just met this guy but she wanted his hands to explore her body; she wanted to feel his skin against hers; she wanted his lips locked on hers. As the evening progressed Beth hoped that she had made it clear to Jed that she had the hots for him. She had flirted with him enough and given him plenty of opportunity to study her ample cleavage! Eventually she decided to bite the bullet; taking Jed's hand she led him onto the dance floor and after a couple of flirtatious dances she suggested they go somewhere a little quieter. They left the main function room and were soon in a quiet corridor. As soon as she thought it safe, Beth pinned Jed between herself and the corridor wall and placed her lips on his. Jed didn't resist and within moments their tongues were entwined. Eventually breaking the kiss, Beth said that they should find somewhere more private. After trying a couple of locked doors they found what appeared to be another smaller function room, it was not in use and they both went in. Upon entering the room Jed placed a chair under the handle of the door to make sure that it couldn't be opened from the outside. Beth and Jed then threw themselves into deep, passionate kissing. Their tongues darted, hungrily, in and out of each other's mouth. Every now and then Beth let out a small moan of wanton pleasure. Her whole body was in an intense state of arousal; it felt as though her panties were soaked right through, such was the wetness between her legs. Jed's hands were all over her body, stroking her through her dress. He placed a hand on each of her butt cheeks and squeezing each one he pulled her towards him and she could feel his hardness against her tummy. Jed's kisses moved from Beth's mouth down on to the side of her neck; she threw her head back and Jed's tongue traced lines up and down her tightly drawn skin. ************ Dan was behind some stored partitions when he heard the door of the room click open and quickly click closed again before quietly spoken voices broke the silence. Through a gap he saw that a couple that had entered the room; the woman watched the man as he wedged a chair under the door handle, they obviously did not want to be disturbed. Transfixed, Dan watched as they then engaged in deep, passionate, kisses. Their lips were locked together and their hands slid up and down the contours of each others body. Every now and then one of them would let out a slight moan as their state of arousal intensified. Dan's cock was growing in his pants as he watched the couple from his hideaway. He started slowly rubbing the length of his hard cock through his trousers. He could feel juice oozing from its end as he watched the couple in action. As he was working on her neck the man had reached up and slid down the zipper of the woman's dress. He turned her around so that she was facing the wall and after moving her long hair out of the way he began to kiss the back of her neck. She reached out and put both hands on the wall, to steady herself, as the man's attention turned to the skin of her back, exposed by the undone zipper. His tongue traced up and down her spine, from the top of her neck to the small of her back. Every time he reached the bottom she took a sharp intake of breath; on the way back up his hand caressed the length of her leg. After a while the man stopped; he slid the dress from the woman's shoulders and it fell to the floor. She turned around to face him and he took a step back to admire her. Dan could see her too, his eyes raced all over her body; her large breasts were trying their best to escape from her bra and he could clearly see her dark pubic bush through her thin, white panties. Her white thighs sat atop black stockings. Dan slid a hand down the front of his pants and wrapped his fingers tightly around his fat, wet cock. He slid the skin towards its base and felt his bulbous end pop out from beneath his foreskin. He undid the button fly and slid his pants down just far enough to release his throbbing erection. He slowly teased himself, gently moving his hand up and down the length of his cock. ************ His eyes transfixed on Beth's semi-naked body, Jed began to unbutton his shirt. Beth reached around her back, unclipped her bra and let it fall to the floor. Her hands cupped her heavy breasts and with the thumb and forefinger of each hand she teased her nipples, making them swell. Within no time Jed was completely naked. Beth surveyed his body. It was obvious that he worked out regularly as his upper body was toned and firm. His cock was sticking out in front of him, not too long but nice and wide; she liked that; his large sac hung from the base of his member. Once more their lips met, Beth's tits squashed against Jed's chest and his erection rubbed up against her stomach. With one hand Beth reached down between Jed's legs; she cupped his heavy balls in her hand and gently massaged them as their tongues continued to probe each others mouth. Beth broke the kiss and moved her wet lips down to Jed's chest. She circled his nipple with the end of her tongue and then continued her way down, laying soft kisses on his stomach before she went down onto her knees in front of him. Her eyes surveyed his engorged cock, a droplet of juice leaked from its end and with her fingertip she spread it around the head. Jed let out a gentle moan as her finger caressed the tip of his cock. Beth then ran her tongue from the base of Jed's cock, along its full swollen length; as she made contact with the underside of its bulbous end, it twitched uncontrollably. She took Jed's warm, rigid pole into her mouth, her lips rolled down the top couple of inches and she pressed her tongue flat on the underside. She fucked his cock with her wet mouth. Jed placed his hands on the back of Beth's head and gently moved his hips back and forth, matching the rhythm of Beth's warm, moist mouth; she placed a hand on his buttock and gently squeezed it whilst her other hand fondled his balls. ************ Dan's cock was ready to explode as he watched from his hideaway, his hand continued to rub up and down the length of his shaft, pre-cum was oozing from his cock, coating his fingers. ************ After a short while Jed withdrew his cock from Beth's mouth, it glistened from the mixture of her saliva and his own juices. He helped Beth back to her feet before he dropped to his knees. He took a moment to look at her dark mound visible through her panties before sliding them down her legs whereupon she stepped out of them. The lips of Beth's pussy were swollen, her clit was hard and aching to be touched. Jed stood and taking Beth's hand he led her to a nearby table and sat her on the edge. He knelt down again; he lifted and spread Beth's legs wide apart exposing her moist cunt. Beth lay back and placed her feet on the table. Jed ran his tongue up and down the insides of Beth's smooth thighs, then around the edges of her pubic mound and across her stomach. Beth gently bit her top lip and moved her own hand onto her breasts where she tweaked and rolled her enlarged nipples. Jed's tongue squeezed between the lips of Beth's cunt, she let out a deep moan as his tongue caressed her swollen clit. The end of his tongue circled her nubbin then alternated between probing her soaked, wanton, hole and caressing her clit. Her moans of pure pleasure grew louder and more frequent; her hands left her tits and were placed on the back of Jed's head, holding him tight between her spread lips. She began gyrating her hips, rubbing her soaked pussy all over Jed's face, squeezing every ounce of ecstasy she could from his tonguing. ************ Hidden from view Dan was desperate to cum, he couldn't take his eyes away from the couple as the woman lay on the table, her legs splayed, her cunt being licked and sucked for all it was worth. His cock was as hard as he had ever known it, pre-cum was rolling down its length. He knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer and so released his grip leaving his dick pointing up at the ceiling. ************ Jed stood up; his lips and chin were drenched in the juices that had been flowing from Beth's pussy. He wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the base of his shaft and guided the swollen end of his cock towards Beth's pert clit. The underside of his cock made contact and he slowly moved it up and down, rubbing over and around her dark pink clitoris. Her vulva was swollen and spread, opening her up, ready to take the full length of Dan's pumped up erection. He guided the tip of his cock down the length of her labia until it was poised at her entrance. He pushed the first inch inside her, there was such a vast quantity of moisture that his purple end slipped in very easily. Beth let out a deep moan; Jed withdrew and once more rubbed his cock over her clit. Again he manoeuvred his dick down between her lips and this time he pushed his cock a little bit further inside her. He held it there momentarily before gently moving his hips the smallest of distances so that his cock slid up and down inside her. Beth's eyes were closed and she was biting her lip. Jed withdrew again; once more his cock teased Beth's engorged clit before finally he pushed his full length deep inside her. His balls squashed against her butt. Taking hold of Beth's ankles, Jed placed one on each of his shoulders; her nylon clad legs were raised up and supported by his upper body. Placing his hands on her hips, Jed began sliding his rock hard cock in and out of Beth's soaked pussy. Each thrust was met with a moan of pure pleasure from Beth's throat. Jed's thrusting movements speeded up; their bodies clapped each time his full length was buried inside her. Beth grabbed Jed's wrists as her orgasm started to build. Jed was now fucking Beth as fast as he could; he watched her tits bounce around as he thrust his cock in and out of her body. There was no way he could hold back; he threw his head back and moaned uncontrollably as his cock spurted his come inside Beth. That set Beth off too and the walls of her cunt squeezed onto his pumping cock as her orgasm sent her whole body into spasms. ************ Dan couldn't hold back either. His hand was back pumping his cock and within seconds a white stream of come erupted from the end of his dick. It splattered his thighs and his trousers; a second spurt coated his fingers and the back of his hand. More come oozed from his erect cock as he continued to pump it with his hand. ************ Jed collapsed on top of Beth and they lay there on the table, both breathing heavily. After a few minutes Jed stood up and his softening cock plopped from Beth's cunt. A small trickle of his cream was leaking from her. Lustfully satisfied they both dressed and returned to the party. Beth didn't stay much longer; made her excuses and made her way back to her room. ************ Not long after she had arrived back in her room there was a knock on Beth's door. She swung it open. There stood Dan, her husband. "That was mind blowing!" he said. "I'm glad you enjoyed it" replied Beth, "now get in here and fuck my brains out." I Saw You Again I saw you again. It was at the same place I always see you. You were being your usual charming self: well-dressed, likable presence, heart-warming smile. Just seeing you brightened my day. I couldn't say "Hi" to you - no, not to your face - I could never. You exist in your own world, a plane where I am a mere ripple on your fine surface. No. It is when I return home, to the comforts of my own being and self that I take you in. Encompassed in visions that ran through my head all day - before and after I saw you. The gleam in your eyes when you smile. The way you hand glides past your hair as you continue in conversation. Everything about you, your essence, that absorbs me into you. Alone in my bedroom, surrounded by the reflections of who I am, I summon you. In my thoughts you materialize, subject to my desire. Our purpose. What we are meant to be. In my solitude I make you mine, and our mutual longing for each other is reconciled. The heat between us ignites our passion. I can feel your strong, masculine presence next to my delicate frame. Your broad shoulders and toned arms slowly holding me in your grasp as our naked bodies meld. My arms embrace your solid build, my head resting against your chest. Your perfect chest. I'm giddy with excitement. You are only human yet everything I know about you is perfection. Your body, your face, your smile. You! Some people dedicate their lives to meditation or understanding God. I am so lucky to have found you, my own savior, to whom I dedicate my soul - my being - myself to. Gentle kisses against your chest are returned with your lips adorning my forehead. I can feel the whisper of air flowing through my hair as you take in my scent. Your hand slowly creeping along my back, still holding me in your strong, secure presence, until it comes to gently rest along the back of my head. You coerce me to look up into your deep eyes, the same eyes I lost myself in when we first met. In their reflection I sense your understanding and care - and I know you see the same through mine. Between us we see our souls burning to become one, and we know the time is right. You gracefully lay me down, our eyes locked. My yearning has manifested itself, and I slowly spread my legs. With a confident and considerate manner you position yourself, my heart a flutter as I anticipate your arrival. I lay back, my eyes locked as I feel the tip of your manhood caress against my entrance. I feel you press in, filling me up. With a whimper and a bite of my lips I accept you. You take me. My one, my only, my beloved. I feel your kisses adorn my body. From the side of my neck to the tautness of my nipples, each peck exhilarates me. To know you are in me. To know that you find pleasure in me, as I have found pleasure in you. Sensations stirred by your member lovingly sliding within my womanhood ripple outwards - coursing through my body. My breasts gently sway with our rocking motions, illustrating the beautiful rhythm of our union. Our craving for release overtakes us. The crest of our shared bliss is not far off. My lips are quivering, your panting labored, our bodies trembling. Together we ride to that sacred moment. You press yourself further into my yielding passage, the depth of your member's penetration revealing unknown sensations to me. Your gentle kisses cease as you pull your head over mine. I see your face - then only your eyes, as I can no longer hold back. My womanhood clenches around you as I lose myself in rapture. I feel you tense up, seeing your eyes flutter for a moment as you give yourself unto me. Finally, I have you inside of me. Now, truly, we are complete. In the privacy of my own I have you. I know you're out there, unaware of me - how I feel for you. How I long for you. What we were meant to be. In my heated moments I get carried away. I know these feelings would likely scare you. Perhaps forever drive you away from me. Everyday I die a little more knowing your not here with me. But soon, one day, we will be together. If not for a moment, then forever. I'll see you later. I Saw You Too "I Saw You Too" or, "The Whirlwind Erotic Romance of a French Fashion Student Enjoying Her Last Few Days in the States" (This story has a long set-up. If you like your characters drawn out in less than a paragraph, you'll probably want to move on to something else. This story also contains a few French words and phrases, references to American pop-punk music, and European films. If these topics leave you in the dark, again, you may want to try something else. Everyone else: Happy reading!!) * May 29, 2006. 9:32am, Philadelphia, USA. "Oh Shit!! Ce n'est pas possible!" I slap the newspaper down on the kitchen table and grab my reading glasses from the counter above. I lean down close enough to inspect what I think I've just read but cannot truly be there. It couldn't be real. Could it? But there it is, in black and white right before my eyes: "I saw you checking me out at Vox Metro, Monday, Lunch. You: Yellow stripped running jacket, cargo pants. Me: Jeans, sneakers and blazer, dirty blonde, brown eyes. I don't know your name, but you are gorgeous. I loved your wavy hair and almost died when I heard that French accent. You sounded like Brigitte Bardot in that Bonnie & Clyde Song. Don't be shy--I was checking you out too. Call me at x5973 or meet me, same place, 8pm, Thursday." My oh my--Ce pourrait être vrai? A guy--A VERY CUTE GUY--who I bumped into at the coffee shop two days ago, has just made a personal ad for me... Pour moi!!!. It is called an "I SAW YOU" and it is right there in the "chick" section of the local Philadelphia Art Paper. I have been reading these I SAW YOU's devotedly every week since I moved to this city almost one year ago today. Basically, what I'm talking about is a Personals feature of the newspaper where people leave a message and try to hook up with someone they may have met out in public but never got their number. Maybe I am a "ham," but I find these I SAW YOU's just oh-so romantic. I know for a fact that I am not the first woman to wonder whether I would see a note here from a cute guy whose eye I may have caught on the street. But of course, it has never happened. Once or twice I admit, I have even been tempted to place an ad myself. Always though--how do you American's say it?-- I "chicken out." Call me a shy little girl, or call me a voyeur. It's true that I've already been called both many times. But finally, here it is. Tacit evidence that there is a HOT guy out there who is now trying to reach me through the romantic medium of an American newspaper personal ad!! Maybe this is a bit too "cheesy" for you dear reader? I am sorry for that, but bear with me a moment, as now--all of a sudden--I too could care less about the rest of the dribble here on this page. All those other stupid people with their stupid little romances! I might have drooled over you a few minutes ago, but now I don't need your stories anymore. Everything but my ad seems so juvenile now. Really. I read over the paragraph--my paragraph--again and again. At least a dozen or more times. Could this really be true? But it is. And as I read over and over the words, I can't seem to say anything but "alors" over and again to no one but myself. OK, dear reader, maybe I should be giving you some background about now: My name is Lisette Pirelle. I am a French fashion student at the end of my one year scholarship at the Academy of Design in Philadelphia, a large city in eastern North America. I have just presented a line of clothes for petite women like myself to my American professors. I received high honors for the project, and one of my advisors has even put me in contact with a buyer at a large retailer here in this city!! Typically, they see my collection more along the lines of teenagers and not small adult women, but honestly, I don't care. All I care is that THEY ARE INTERESTED! I'm probably getting out-front of myself, but if it actually comes through, I hope to fabricate an entire line under the name "Lisette Jones." I thought this name up as a sort of French-American girl equivalent of the Lucy character from the old Peanuts comic strip. I used to love that sassy Lucy when I was just a jeune fille. And I think the name plays well off the fun, "youth-y" look of my collection. Oh, I'm so excited, I think I going to go manic here! Ok, I've settled down now! It's funny I think, how this little piece of luck seems just like everything else that is good in one's life: it's coming at me in such a big hurry. You see, my student VISA expires in three days, and no matter that I have a buyer interested in my collection, or that now suddenly a mysterious, cute boy likes me, I will have to fly home to spend my final semester at the Ecole Fashion, before I can graduate. And now that I have a potentially interested buyer I could almost care less about my classes!!! All of a sudden, all I really want to do is put together the whole line and get rich! Ok, Ok don't worry, I am an excellent student and of course I would not waste the potential of a prestigious Ecole Fashion degree. I know my degree will open doors for me many times over. I must be honest though when I say that I am even more excited about my potential buyer. VERY, Very excited you should say!! I am a creative girl you know, and now that I have someone interested in my work, I just want to "make it happen"! And now a cute boy too??!!! "Quand il pleut il verse!!" This is the French way of saying, "when it rains it pours!" Let me explain. My year here at the American Design school has been great, but outside of good marks and my professors liking my work, I haven't met many friends or had much of a life outside of school. I don't think I am a bitch, but the other girls at school are really very caddy to me. There's one or two serious students who I like and I think they like me. But like me we're all too busy to really become friends!! Also, I must be honest and admit that I haven't really fallen in love with this city. To start with, my first choice for my year abroad was the Rhodes Institute in New York, but they offered me only a tuition waver, whereas the Academy of Design paid my fees plus a $10,000 stipend for living expenses. I couldn't afford to live in Manhattan without a stipend, so I had to choose "Philly." And to make matters worse, since I arrived in Philadelphia I have had zero luck with men. I know every girl says this--but in my case it has been too painfully true: it seems like every man that I meet and that I like is either married, attached or gay. I'm no prude mind you, but even the married ones I flirted with (just one or two) haven't made any moves. I'm not trying to ruin anyone's home life, but you'd think that just because you are married it doesn't mean that you can't flirt back. Give a young lady some respect. And after all, being married has never stopped a Frenchmen from flirting. I think that I am a good-looking enough woman. Some say I look like Jennifer Connolly and other's say I look a bit like the rock-singer, Liz Phair. I love Jennifer Connolly as an actress, but honestly, she seems like she is much taller and maybe more glamorous than I am. I think it is a truism that many of us fashion designers are really just shorter, less glamorous versions of the models we design clothes for. I think our creativity comes from an envy of wanting to be the actual models ourselves. Anyway, Liz Phair seems closer to the mark as we both have that secret-naughty girl look that men like (or at least I thought so until I came here!). Like her, I am very short in height, only 5'2''. By the way, I am a big fan of American rock music, and I have loved her music for many years since I was a teenager. That is one of two things that I really like about America--the music is so much better than our French bands. We French are your master in art and fashion, but musically I would say, we are the children to you. I love a lot of American alternative music, like the Killers and the White Stripes especially. The other thing that I think you Americans do better than we French is men. "Wow" you say?! Did she really just say that?! La France, je suis désolé--but it is true for me. How can I explain this without sounding stuck-up? Well, first off, let me explain that it is somewhat an overstated cliche that the French think all Americans--especially men--are brutes. There are actually a number of French women--myself included--who are quite attracted to the cowboy / Yankee American stereotype. I don't know exactly why, but about Frenchman there is a derisive expression that some women say (and I am one). It goes, "Les hommes francais parlent beaucoup mais ils n'agissent jamais!" Basically this translates as "French men are all talk and no action." I'm sorry if this sounds horrible, it's just that I have come to know what I like, and I like a man of action and most French are idlers. Great artists and philosophers no doubt, but if the world waited for a Frenchman to invent the wheel, I'm afraid we'd all still be traveling by canoe. Please France, don't hate me for saying that!! But please, my gentle reader, at the risk of further slighting my countrymen, let us hasten back to the topic of this GORGEOUS boy I have met here in Philadelphia. My sexy, American mystery stalker from the coffee shop. How shall I describe him to you? Well, he is about average height here in the states, probably 5' 10'' (a little taller than the typical 172cm Frenchman I might add). He has kind of "tousled" brownish hair. And as he said in his ad, he has the most delicious, warm, chocolate brown eyes I have ever seen. Wait, did he say that?! No I guess it was me that added those details!! He has a bit of a hipster, art-student look, but I would say that he is handsomer and better-formed than your typical twiggy male art student. When I bumped into him (he was actually behind me in line at the cafe when I turned around without looking and I almost poured my cup on him) he was wearing running shoes, jeans, and a blazer. This look is what I--as a young fashion modeliste myself--have dubbed the "cute-cool" look and it is not very far from what you might see in a J. Crew catalog. Not too daring it's true, but with the right accent, quite nice. I should say that the thing I like best about this look is that usually guys who wear it are actually good-looking. They aren't the vain, effeminate, types who are always prancing around trying to embellish themselves with all their overdone vintage clothes. Anyway, with his looks, my American boy carried off "cute-cool" in spades!! Also, I'd say he had a certain "joie de vie" that kept it all from looking too, how do you say..."of the shelf." Oh, he was Yummmmy!!! After I bumped him, I think I blushed. I was so embarrassed that I ran to hide in the corner of the cafe, but kept sneaking glances over as he waited for his order. I should also tell you that he had a gorgeous ass. Almost like a Roman sculpture, and I was looking right at it when he turned around to leave. That must've been how he caught me looking!! Zut Alors!! OK, dear reader, I think I'm going manic again. I am going to need a few minutes to take a breath and to think this over. I mean, after all, what does an attractive young girl do when her beau so brazenly advertises for her in a public newspaper? I don't have the slightest idea as we don't do I SAW YOU's in France!! And since I have no real friends here, I think I should really go call my best friend Camille at home. M'excuser s'il vous plaît... May 30, 2006. 7:45 pm, Philadelphia, USA. I am getting ready to go meet my cute American. I am extremely nervous and am wondering if this seems desperate of me to actually go. Camille said I should call him first, but as I said, I'm a bit chicken and anyway, I was afraid that I might have blown it over the phone. Sometimes the French-American translation thing goes wrong over the phone--especially when I'm nervous. And anyway, now, I figure that I'm at least getting out a bit--even if it's on my second to last night in the USA! I feel confident that my social life here is just the tinniest bit less pathetic now with the potential for some man-meat of my own. I'm also not so pissed now as I was a few days ago when not one of my caddy little peers (ces chiennes) invited me to their graduation parties. I've seen all of their caca little boyfriends before and to be frank, not one could hold a candle to my sweet little stalker man. I go over to the wall mirror and give myself the once-over one last time before I head out the door. I hope this doesn't sound conceited, but I have to be honest that for once, I really like what I see. I'm wearing one of my own outfits mostly. It's kind of a low-cut parachute-pants / skirt / beaded pink top number with the word "BREAK IT DOWN" appliqued in silver on the chest. Since it's kind of an homage to 80's pop and break dancing, I'm also wearing a kangol hat and a pair of vintage adidas just like RunDMC! OK, I admit, it's a bit on the nose, but it's still HOT on me. I'm still young and fit--what the black girls around my block might call, "tight." So there. As I walk down the block to the cafe, I can't help but ruminate over my two failed romances here. I'm not sure why I should be thinking of these little trysts right now but I am. Maybe it's a sort of mental preparation or a cleansing in the hopes that tonight will go A LOT better. The first guy I slept with here was named Dan. Could you get more plain vanilla a name than that? Nom de pleume?...more like nome de gross. Maybe I should stop right there, but oh dear, he was sooooo boring. The only thing I can say for him is that he made the first move. Since I am usually so shy that way, I guess that was necessary to get things rolling. Only after that first move, he had almost nothing to say. He was just very, very quiet. In a way he was sweet, but in a bigger way, he was kind of desperate too. It seemed like he had so little to actually talk to me about that he tried to fill up our dates with movies or with his friends on group dates. Of course, as you might guess, I kept finding myself more attracted to his friends than I was to him. Also he was kind of twiggy, and as I told you, I like my men a little larger and more in charge. It's not usually my style, but this tryst went so badly I actually broke it off with him after only a few weeks. Since he's also a student at the Academy I was careful. Since I don't want a bad reputation, I decided not to try to "trade up" on any of his friends. Most of them were attached anyway. But there was one guy named Zeek (his nickname) who I kept lusting after. After Dan would leave after our dates, I must have masturbated to him 20 times or so. Unfortunately, after I broke it off with Dan, I never got to see him again. C'est la vie! The other guy I hooked up with was named Rodrigo and he was the Polar opposite of Dan. It lasted less than two weeks, and he was all confidence and slick talk, this one. And fast. Rapidement. Avec ce qu'expédie (with what speed)--he had me upstairs and out of my panties only a few hours into our first date. Problem was, that's where it all went bad. He was tall, dark, Spanish. An exchange student like me. And good-looking too. And as I said, he was very confident in himself. Maybe that was the problem--he was too confident. By the end or our first date and the months without a real man, I was just so ready to fuck someone. Anyone. My thighs were actually wet when he got me upstairs and undressed. But then it happened--or should I say, it DIDN'T happen. He was just terrible with his hands, a total oaf-balourd who somehow, was even worse with his mouth. I won't even mention what he tried to do with his dick. He was supposed to have been a sculptor, and if I'd seen his work first, I might have guessed before it was too late that he didn't know a thing about the female anatomy. Enough said?! I let out a sigh as I near the cafe. As they say in American baseball, I'm "0 for 2." And I think it is also accurate to say that with only one more night here after tonight, I'm in my "ninth inning." It's a few minutes after 8 oclock and (mixing metaphors) as Elvis said, "it's now or never." A few shop fronts from the cafe I turn and look at my reflection in the window. I have my hair pulled up in a pony-tail under my white kangol hat. I hardly ever wear makeup, but tonight I have on some of that glossy bubble-gum pink that you used to see R&B singers like "Lisa, Lisa" wear back in the eighties. I figure that the whole, hip-breakdance-look is hot on a white girl, especially a French girl, right? But deep down inside I have a secret fear that the only thing wrong is attitude. My models always get that pushed-up aggressive thing spot-on with this look, but for me that's a stretch. The make-up goes a long way, but as I look in the mirror, I wonder if I can pull it off--even in my own clothes?! For a moment, I start to panic. But then, strangely, I feel a steady, peaceful assurance come over me. I look around myself at the rest of the people in the street. It's a cool spring night, and there are cute young hipsters everywhere. Everybody is having a good time, and damn, I notice, everyone is looking good. I muse quietly that I couldn't have dressed them any better myself. It's kind of magical I guess, almost like a real-life nighttime scene from a video or a cool commercial for Axe deodorant or something. As the moment crystallizes, I realize that tonight, right now, this is my scene. It doesn't matter that I'm a shy, foreign girl, out-of-sorts in a strange city. Dammit, I made this hot outfit I'm now wearing from scratch and someday soon, it might actually be selling in a retail store just down the street. When I look back at my reflection in the mirror there's something new staring back at me. Something bold and unfamiliar. And it feels...incroyable. Five minutes later... His name is Nate or Nathaniel, and he's at least as sexy as I remember him to be. I'm not sure if it's Nate, Nathan, or Nathaniel as it was kind of loud when he introduced himself, and I'm kind of nervous and overwhelmed. He's up at a sort of concession area where they're serving wine, and I'm seated at one of a few tables left in the cafe that's steadily crowding with people.. Most of the tables that are normally in the lounge area have been removed, and there's a stage up front with a few amplifiers and some guitars. It looks like there's going to be some music tonight. Funny, I didn't even know that they played music here! But then again, most of my nights are spent at the studio cutting fabric, so how would I know anyway? Either way, I'm glad he got here in time to get us a table. Smiling back at me from across the crowd, Nathaniel (I like that one since it sounds like the sexy lead character in Last of the Mohicans) crosses the room with four glasses of wine. He's trying the sport's blazer-over-polo look tonight. Again, not a big departure from the J. Crew catalogue, but I'm not in an overly critical mood. And anyway, I must say he wears it quite well. He's even got the salt to turn his collar up!! I don't think I have seen that move since Kirk Cameron on TV when I was like 5 years old. "I think it's gonna get pretty crowded, so I got us each a second glass before they ran out." As he offers me a glass from the four he carted over, he smiles shyly, revealing two dimples that look like they were plucked right off an angel's cheek, "Red, white, or....both?" Normally I'm strictly vin blanc, but tonight is supposed to be different, so I smile and take both reds. "Thank you, Nathaniel." He smiles back, and this time I swear I see a blush, "Uhm. I hope you don't think it's too forward. But do you think you could say what you just said again in French? I know it sounds corny, but it's been a long time since I've heard a beautiful woman speak it." I Saw You Too He is a charmer I see. I remember his comment from the paper and try to oblige. In my best, smoky Bardot accent, I answer, "Bien sûr. Merci beaucoup, j'essaierai le rouge, s'il vous plaît." Then I smile back and ask, "How was that?" He nods his head appreciatively and we clink glasses. "I wasn't kidding about Brigitte Bardot. That scene in The Vixen where Claude Pairot presses her up against the door while his wife and family are in the next room? I think that was burned into my mind from some time when I was like 7 or 8 years old. My mom had a lot of videocassettes of French movies from the 50's, and I remember looking up the word "vixen" in the dictionary before I watched it." "Hmmnn sounds like some little boy had a crush." He chuckles and nods, "Yeah probably. Well it's all way before my time, but as I said, my mom kept a lot of old movies and European film posters around the house. I'd forgotten about it all for years, but then, a few weeks ago, I saw an old video for the Bonnie and Clyde song that I mentioned to you in the I SAW YOU. I love that song, but I didn't even know there was a video for it. Honestly, I didn't think they made them back then, but they sure did....Have you ever seen it?" I'm enjoying watching Nathaniel's little obsession unfold, but as I haven't ever seen this video, I shake my head, "no." He kind of just watches me then for a moment, gauging my reaction with a game look. I'm really turned on by his bold attention, and quite flattered by his association between myself and one of the sexiest Frenchwomen ever. "Anyway, there's a scene in there where Brigitte Bardot is playing Bonnie Parker. She has a tommy gun resting across her lap and she's, well...adjusting her garter belt. Anyway, let's just say that REALLY brought all the childhood stuff back for me. And then when I saw you, Monday, and I heard your accent, well, I couldn't help thinking making some kind of connection." With that, he mimes a little cupid shooting an arrow, and I smile at his coyness. Just at that point, a guy comes over and taps Nathaniel on the shoulder. Nathan apologizes for being interrupted, then leans his ear down so he can hear the guy over the crowd behind him. The guy has the air of a promoter and I guess that he's the one putting on the show tonight. I wonder if he's asking Nathaniel to move the table or something. But as the man speaks, Nate just slowly nods his head like there's more to it than that. The guy, straightens up then, and pats him again on the shoulder. He extends his wrist in front of Nate and indicates "two," before he makes to leave. Nathaniel grabs his arm though and steers him back to the table. He looks across the table, then, and speaks, "Frank, this is my date Lisette. Lisette, Frank. She is a French exchange student, and I met her here a few days ago." Frank extends his hand to me, and smiles like a man who's just been let in on a secret. "So you're the one he's been obsessing on all week. Well, I can see why now." We shake and then he politely withdraws. As he turns, he repeats the "two" to Nathaniel. I look a bit bemused by all of this, I'm sure. Suddenly Nathaniel pushes his chair back and leans across the table. It seems to have gotten terribly loud all of a sudden. He leans across and touches me softly on the back of my neck as he speaks in my ear, "I'm sorry, I don't have as much time to explain as I thought. I'm opening a show here tonight for my friend's band, Naked Lunch. I wouldn't normally invite a stranger to a show, but to be honest, I'm pretty much infatuated with you and I was afraid you wouldn't call me, so I decided to suggest we meet instead. After you didn't call, I didn't think you'd show either. I was really bummed, but I figured 'nothing ventured, nothing gained' and all that." He leans back and looks me in the eye before he continues. My feelings are kind of in a jumble. Is he really about to leave me here alone after we just met? But instead of reacting against him, I feel a strange sense of peace and comfort with the situation. Strange as it is. And frankly, I can't deny how incredibly attracted I am to him at this moment. He is very close to me as he continues, "When I saw you come in just now, I was stunned. Absolutely fucking stunned. You can't feel it, but my heart is pounding like a wild animal in my chest. It's not because I'm about to play 10 songs in front of a group of strangers. It's because you're here, and you're looking so incredible and now, I really am kind of nervous about playing. My band isn't here, but the bass player is showing up for two songs in the middle. I'm not sure what else to say but that since I saw you on Monday, I haven't had a thought in my head about Brigitte Bardot. Please don't judge me to much on that childhood obsession. Don't take this as too sudden Lisette, but I think I've got you got under my skin. If you're still here when I'm done, I promise we can go somewhere else more quiet." And with that, he leans in and kisses me on both cheeks. Just as he would if we were in France. ***** Nathaniel is up on stage. He has played almost all of his ten songs. Most were covers of 80's pop punk bands like Violent Femmes and the Dead Milkmen who I believe are from this city. During two songs, a stunning girl with bright red pigtails came on and played bass while he played electric guitar. Being in the fashion business, I know a hot girl when I see one and she was smoking! She was wearing a white tank top, and long pants. Between the heat in the room and the fact that she was obviously not wearing a bra, no one could help but stare at her perfect, b-cup breasts and her large pink nipples that you could see right through the thin top. She was just the brassy, oozing-sex-kind-of-girl that a shy girl always secretly envies and exactly the type of girl I wanted to be tonight. I was extremely jealous and honestly was getting up to leave until, when they ended the song, Nathaniel introduced her to the crowd as his sister. As the crowd erupted approval, he snuck me a glance and winked. They had just finished a very sexy version of "Add It Up" by the Violent Femmes. At one point, with her back to him, she straddled his thigh and they both did a solo as he twanged "add it up, add it up, why can't I get, just one fuck..." Even though I was fuming with jealousy, it was hard to take my eyes off of that. Anyway, "Melanie," Nathaniel's sister, was now packing up her bass as he switched to an acoustic. He explained that she was only in town for the night and that she had a date. At that, the crowd again erupted. Nathaniel leaned into the mike then and smiled as he continued, "...and it's with a girl!!." Well, pandemonium ensued for a few minutes as Melanie tried to leave the stage and thread her way out to the door. Sister or no, I can't say I was sad to see her go. She was just too hot. The next couple of songs were like the first in that they were revved-up punk acoustics. Except these were Nathan's originals. They were witty songs with a hectic beat that actually had a few people in the crowd pogoing. Nathaniel was a master on stage. He had no rhthym section now, so the beat was pretty much just his strumming hand and what he could pound out with his one foot--which he did to amazing affect. A couple of times, he'd lock eyes with me as he sang some naughty bit about a character in his song. The effect on me was visceral. My own heart was pounding now, and as my soul turned to warm butter, I couldn't mistake the palpable air of hatred that was being directed at me by several cute young stage whores in the room. As he sang song after song directly to me, I could just feel their eyes burning into my flesh. I just smiled like a cat. What else could I do? For the first time in my life I even felt what you say in English, as "cocky." In my new outfit and with the best-looking guy in the room singing songs right to me, how could I feel any different? Anyway, after about 40 minutes, Nathaniel announced it was time for his last song. Even though that meant we could now get back together, a part of me would have like to hear a few more of his songs. "OK, thanks for the warm welcome. I know a lot of you from playing out, and I thank you for your patience with the whole singer-songwriter schtick. As you might guess, this is a lot easier with a full band. Anyway, I've got one more song I'd like to play. It's a slow one, so if you have someone to dance with and you can find any room feel free to grab them tight..." With that, he strapped on his electric again and continued, "...this is one of my all time favorite songs by one of my all time favorite artists. I've gotta warn you though, it's a bit of a heart breaker..." And with that, he stepped on his echo pedal and played the most beautifully sad version of Lucinda Williams' "Blue," that I have ever heard. I cannot well describe to you the effect of his voice, which on this song sounded like a cross between Randy Travis and, believe it or not, Stephen Tyler. Either way it hit me with the deep-longing of a forgotten childhood lullabye. He was right that it was a heart breaker. I was so moved that for the 5 minutes or so as he played, almost all I could see were the fingers of his right hand picking out the melody of the tune. But mostly I just closed my eyes and let his music come to me. Later... I am pressed up against the wall in an alley down the street from my apartment. Nathan and I have just taken a cab back to my block, but we are so hot for each other that we can't even seem to get up the stairs and inside. We have been like two wild puppies for each other. I think we were at the door a few minutes ago and I think I'm still holding my keys. I know that we had some drinks and that we talked a lot about our respective lives and families, but honestly, all I can think about is how incredible Nathan's fingers feel inside my soaked panties and his gorgeous soft lips on my neck. I've been out of my pants and just in my skirt for the last hour or two. I am so drunk with lust that I can't honestly remember where I took my pants off!! It's been like this for every minute of every hour since we left his show at the cafe. First on the cab ride to a bar where a friend of his owed him some drinks, then in a booth at the back of that bar where I was straddled in his lap, practically fucking him in front of a small group of late night diners. Then into the bathroom where I actually did fuck him on top of a filthy toilet seat for what felt like hours as my hands smeared and clawed at the grimey walls of the stall. It was like one continuous orgasm for me the entire time. I kept moaning, yes! yes! yessss!!! in my dirtiest french whore accent. And I felt every bit just that-Nathan's little French whore. When he finally came inside me, I didn't even think about pulling away. I just milked his wonderful cock for every drop it was worth. Flexing the walls of my pussy tight around his cock and milking his seed deep into my womb. After that, I let him fuck me any way he wanted, which was basically hard against the wall again and again. I remember thinking that I'm not going to be able to walk for days, but somehow that just didn't seem to matter. At that moment, I'd probably have given up my ability to walk just so that I could fuck him forever--as long as his amazing dick never went limp. On the cab ride back, I took his cock out and again coaxed him to life so that I could ride him all the way across town. I could feel the eyes of the cabbie, a black guy who stared at me with a cool approving look that seemed to suggest that he'd seen it all--but was still up for seeing it again. And for a few minutes, I did let him watch as I faced away from Nathaniel. When Nathaniel saw that I was putting on a show, he calmly whispered in my ear, "Do you like to be watched?" For those few minutes, it had been like a three way conversation with the cab driver seeing and hearing everything. But then, as I leaned back into Nathan's chest, I returned my attention completely to him. I leaned backwards and kissed him hard. I hot and all twisted around, but I couldn't stop fucking his cock into my wet, swollen pussy. "...I like being watched when I'm fucking you." Finally now, we are in the hallway of my apartment building. It's sometime after 3 and I'm guessing that my neighbors are all asleep. I give Nathaniel a long lusty stare as we stand there holding hands and swaying in a slow, almost drunken dance together, our eyes drinking each other in. Not even the gritty yellow light of the florescents makes him look any less beautiful to me at this moment. He is my drug and my god and I am going to worship him like no other before. There is no one in my life that has ever compared to him, and if he has someone, even a hundred little groupies, I am about to erase them forever from his memory. With my hands against his chest, I press him up against the wall and look into his warm, exhausted eyes. I worry that I've warn him out, but then, as I slide my hand down and lower the fly on his pants I feel my hopes rise for like the tenth time this night. He lets out a long, pained groan, but I put my finger to his lips to shush him. I'm hearing none of it. I lean up into his ear and lay on the accent, "One more encore, baby, please. It's been so long, and I've traveled all the way from Paris to see you tonight. I love all your dirty little songs and I can't take another night with just my finger and all my naughty thoughts of you. Please, I need that fantastic American cock of yours in me just one more time, please." He smiles and leans back against the wall. Something about his posture signals a kind of surrender. And for the first time in my life, I feel something totally new and exhilarating--complete control of my lover's body. By the time I lower down to my knees before him, his cock has betrayed him. He is swollen up and arched like a thick jug handle. I smile up at him with my sluttiest look as I kiss the length of his cock, from the hairy base out to the beautiful, huge mushroom head. He tastes like pure animal sex. My pussy, his come, my come--our sweat soaked into the soft, tightly stretched skin of his dick. I wet him down with my spit and then slowly suck him hard again. I try to be as gentle as possible, since now, secretly, my own body is waking up again, and I know that very soon what I will really want is to fuck that thick cock one last time before we both go upstairs and collapse in my bed. But I also want to suck him, and I'm torn between that--wanting to take him all in my mouth and throat right here, and an itch for the pleasures that could be just a few moments later. It seems like he is mine for the bidding...how you say..."putty in my hands." Should I just suck him off, or should I strip out of my useless panties one last time? After a minute of what must be the best head I have given in my life, I feel his fingers on the top of my hat, then I feel him take it off and toss it onto the pile of mail by the door. I don't miss a beat in my slow worshipful sucking of his thick pole, even as I feel his fingers loosen the berette and my hair falls down, all around my face. I normally hate my hair in my face when I'm giving head, but it is obviously what he wants and that's all that matters to me right now. Once I've got his cock standing straight up at attention, I lean back and stare up into those beautiful, milk chocolate eyes. He nods "yes" when I ask him, "Do you like how I worship your cock?". I slap it against my open mouth and ask, "...And do you want come in my throat again?" This time he shakes his head, "no." Oh....He is being such a good boy for me now. But is he really doing it for me, or do we both just want the same things now? Either way, there's nothing wrong with few more moments of teasing is there? I smile and reward him by taking him almost completely into my throat. Then, as I suck up again to the head, I look up longingly--waiting for his signal as to what he wants next. The entire time I deep throat him, his palm rests on my cheek, stroking me gently as he fucks his cock into and out of my willing mouth. And of course, the whole time, my pussy is getting that slick, warm burn that tells me it wants to be fed. As I kneel there before him, my head bobbing up and down on his pole, I feel how wet and loose I've become down there between my thighs. For the moment, the pain of being fucked for hours on end has magically drifted away, and thankfully, as I look up into Nathan's dreamy eyes, he agrees to my silent request. Upstairs, in the perfect comfort of my bedroom, I straddle him one last time. His cock feels perfect inside my pussy. Perfect size, perfect curve. His head nudging against that up-inside spot that has me starting the long steady roller coaster of orgasm once again. It's just like that--a roller coaster when you're reaching the top of the long ascent and just as you start to roll down into the first turn. The huge, powerful pull of force that sends me down hard on top of him, then up, then plunging down again and again. He is my man. He is my dream. I am his woman and everything is perfect and incredible. I wonder, somewhere in the back of my mind, if I will ever stop coming?