In the United States, a maid does the dishes, vacuums the carpets, makes the beds and washes the windows. In France all of that is done by a "cleaning woman". I was a live-in maid (and tutor) for a very wealthy Parisian family for seven months, and all I cleaned was my fingernails. Except for tutoring the children, which took only a few hours a day, my work was done in bed: I was a sort of live-in whore, and not only for the master of the house. As the following pages reveal, I spent just as much time with the master's mistress and wife and children as I did with him.
When I came home to America I stayed with my parents in New Jersey for a little while. When they heard I'd been a maid in Paris, they were shocked: "Our daughter, cleaning house!" Had they known what I actually did as a "maid", they'd have died disowning me. They still don't know, and for that reason I am writing under a pseudonym. For similar reasons, I have changed the names of my employers, and their address and so forth. But the events happened, and the story is true.
"Jean Mister"
CHAPTER ONE
On a wall in a little cafe on the Boulevard St. Michel, just down the street from the Sorbonne, there's a bulletin board full of cards that offer or ask for rides. Several years ago I was standing in front of this bulletin board looking for a ride to Prague. No deal. Only one ride was offered, and then only if the passenger paid for all gas; and I was out of money. I was about to leave the cafe and go sulk in the little park where my boyfriend was to meet me when I noticed this little card, in English:
Wanted. English-speaking girl to live in. Light housekeeping, tutoring children in English. Room and board and small salary. Apply in person after 6:00. 7, Rue St. Victor.
The card set me thinking. I was out of money and bored to tears. I had come to Paris to go to school at the Sorbonne, but had dropped out after only a month or two. I'd been in Paris seven months and had been to all the places there are to go to, and had done everything there was to do, at least twice. The only reason I was hanging around at all was Michael, my boyfriend, and I was getting a little tired of him. I decided to try for this job. I could make a little money, I figured-and it might be pretty far out to work as a maid and tutor for a while. To enhance my chances of getting the job I took the card off the bulletin board and put it in my jeans pocket. Then, in happier spirits already, forgetting about Prague, I started off for the park, to meet Michael.
Rue St. Victor, in the Val de Grace quarter, was only a few blocks from the apartment Michael and I had been sharing. Number seven turned out to be a huge old townhouse, three stories, with a huge double front door flanked by gas lamps with cut-glass panes. Pretty fancy, I thought. I smoothed back my hair and adjusted my sweater and made sure my skirt was on straight-it had been some time since I had worn anything but jeans-and hammered on the door with the big brass knocker. The name Cordon was engraved in beautiful script on a little plaque underneath.
In a moment the door opened and I was face to face with a beautiful woman. She had long, flowing black hair and a slim figure, and was dressed in one of those simple tailored dresses wealthy Parisian matrons favor. She looked me up and down quickly and then, smiling, speaking in French, asked what I wanted.
"I came about the-the position," I said in my best, if heavily accented, French. "The tutoring...."
"Of course. Please come in." She opened the door wide and I stepped inside. "Make yourself comfortable. I shall tell M. Cardon you are here." She motioned toward a large sitting room, and as I followed her gesture she walked away down a long carpeted hallway and around a corner.
The room was dominated by a huge fireplace and, over it, a gilt-framed mirror about six feet tall. I stood in front of the mirror and ran a comb through my hair, considering my reflection closely and wondering what I looked like to other people. I was twenty-two, but looked a little older, I thought. I had long blonde hair and a few freckles, and I'm prettier than most. I stepped back from the mirror and studied my bosom, which is large; I remember wondering if my tits were going to get saggy when I got older. Still gazing at my reflection, I backed up a little-almost onto the feet of the man who was to be my employer. We looked at each other in the mirror. He smiled, and I blushed. He was about the best-looking man I'd ever seen-about forty years old, suntanned, tall, fair-haired and blue-eyed. Still blushing, I turned to face him.
"Hello," he said in English. "I am Gabriel Cardon. I don't know your name."
"Jean-Jean Hollister."
"Jean. How pretty. You've, ah, come about my notice?"
"Yes."
"Have you worked as a maid before, or as a tutor?"
"No. I'm just out of school. But I'm sure I could do the work...."
"No doubt. Have you any references?"
I blushed again. "No-no, but I can give the names of some people who know me, who can vouch for my good character."
M. Cardon smiled, and I relaxed a little-I had been clutching my fists tightly. "That will not be necessary," he said. "I like you. You may have the job, if you want it. The pay isn't much, but we'll feed you well, and you'll have your own room and bath." He paused and smiled, and I experienced for the hundredth time the not altogether pleasant feeling of being charmed by an insincere Frenchman. I smiled back, rather shyly, and he said, "Will you take the job?"
"Well, I-yes. When do I begin?"
"Tomorrow morning, if you like. Come at ten o'clock. Marie will show you your room, and will introduce you to the children."
"In what am I to tutor them?" I asked.
"In English-they both know it a little, but not enough. They must learn to read it and to speak it perfectly." I realized just then that M. Cardon spoke almost perfect English himself, and evidently prided himself on that fact. I wondered where he had learned it. In fact, I wondered a lot about the man; I hoped I would get to know him, perhaps intimately....
Michael wasn't at all pleased about my decision, and said so that night after we fucked. He wanted to know why I was moving out to go to work as a maid, of all things. As we talked he fondled and caressed my tits, which I liked, so I gave him the news as gently as possible. I told him that I was bored and tired of living in his dirty little apartment, and that I wanted to make some money. Before he could protest too much I slid down the sheets and lowered my head over his cock and gave it a stroke or two with my tongue. Before long it was up and ready again, and as I sucked and licked his big cock he forgot that he was pissed off. I sucked until he was all but ready to come and then lifted myself up over his belly and, grabbing his cock and guiding it home, eased myself down slowly. My cunt was wet with juices and with Michael's come-we had fucked not ten minutes before-and his cock and my cunt together made the most incredibly wet sounds, really beautiful sounds. I fucked him slowly at first, drawing it out, controlling my movements and pulling at his big cock as hard as I could. I lifted up until his cock was almost out of me, and then slid down hard, loving the spur of his cock-head against my vulva. He said "mmm," deep in his throat and reached for my tits and pinched my nipples, then caressed and stroked them until they were hard as nails.
God, how I love fucking! Fucking was what had kept me with Michael all this time, although he didn't know it. I had been with a lot of guys in Paris-fucking is the number one entertainment there-and Michael was the best of the lot. So I stayed with him for a while. But now I was bored with him, and this was going to be our last fuck, unless we got up early and fucked once more before he left for class, and I wanted it to count, for his sake and mine. Keeping his cock firmly lodged in my pussy, I leaned forward and lay on his chest, crushing my tits against him, and kissed him hard on the mouth. He stuck his tongue between my lips and I bit down on it softly. He pulled his tongue out and I followed it into his mouth with my tongue, savoring the taste of his saliva. We kissed for a long, long time. Finally I pulled away and sat up again, riding him triumphantly, humping him, fucking the bejesus out of him. I speeded up and in a moment or two I felt through his cock the first tiny trembles of his coming. Jesus, what a feeling ... I rode the feeling all the way, throbbing with him as we both came, and long after he'd come and I'd come too I sat on him, still clutching his softening cock, spilling fluids out onto his crotch. When I got off him at last and lay beside him he said, ruefully, knowing this was the last, "Jesus, Jeanie. You're the best goddamned fuck ever. Did you know that?"
"I gathered," I said and laughed. And I wondered privately whether the handsome M. Cardon would soon discover for himself that I was, indeed, I truly believed, the best goddamned fuck ever. I had a feeling that my duties would include more than cleaning up his fucking mansion and tutoring his fucking children in per-fect fucking English.
I fell asleep clutching Michael's beautiful cock like a hope.
In the morning Marie showed me through the house, explained what I was to do, and introduced me to the children. I soon discovered that Marie was not M. Cardon's wife-she called herself his "secretary", although there was nothing in the house that resembled an office. The children were beautiful. Anne, the older, was fourteen, and was dark and delicate and reserved. I gathered that she detested Marie. Her brother, Charles, was twelve, and looked much like his father. He was happy and open and friendly. Both kids knew enough English to speak rjehind Marie's back, which, I was to discover, they did all the time. Their mother, it seemed, lived in Toulon, near Marseille, and came to Paris only once in a while. A third child, a two-year-old boy, lived with her. Charles showed me her picture and told me, very solemnly, that he loved her very much.
My room was really two rooms, a bedroom and a sort of sitting room, and I had my own bathroom, complete with a huge old-fashioned tub. There was a door from the bedroom out onto a little patio at the very back of the house, and a big oak door led from this patio to the alleyway behind. Balconies that clung to nearby houses overhung my little patio and blocked out most of the sun, but even so it was full of flowers and bushes, and felt quiet and protected and private.
Marie showed me my rooms and then helped me unpack. She looked a bit puzzled at all my jeans and sweatshirts, but didn't say anything about them. She did say a lot about M. Cardon. She told me he was an attorney, very wealthy (something I could tell for myself), and that he and his wife had lived apart for most of their marriage. She said that it was very sad, but Madame Cardon was very fond of young men, and could not stay away from them. Madame Cardon would come to Paris for a month or so, and begin playing around, and M. Cardon would finally be able to tolerate it no more: he'd banish her back to the South of France, where she'd stay until she missed her children enough to come home again. Marie told me that this had been going on for years. I asked why M. Cardon didn't divorce his wife, and Marie said a divorce was out of the question. The Cardons were Roman Catholic.
After all my stuff was put away Marie went into the bathroom and turned on the bathtub tap. I told her I didn't really want a bath, but she insisted, telling me that I must be very tired. I pointed out that I had only walked two or three blocks, and wasn't in the least tired, but she dismissed my protests with a wave of her hand-in France, the last word on anything is a wave of the hand-and so I decided, what the hell, to have a bath. She left the room and closed the door, promising to come fetch me for luncheon, and I got into the tub. I hadn't been there more than five minutes, and was just beginning to really enjoy it, when Marie came back in, wearing a bathrobe. She came right into the bathroom and took off the robe and stretched, and said, "I decided I simply must have a bath myself. You don't mind if I join you?"-and before I could formulate an answer, stepped into the tub.
Marie's body was incredibly beautiful, and I could hardly keep my eyes off her. Her breasts were big and full and pointed, and her nipples were a soft beige circled by large rings of slightly darker fawn. Her ass was firm and beautifully proportioned, her thighs strong-looking, her legs long and graceful. Her toenails were painted, something I hadn't seen in years. As she eased herself down into the tub to sit opposite me I glimpsed the dark, curly mystery of her bush.
"My sister and I used to take baths together at home. I love it, do you?" Marie smiled at me as she said this, and her smile was open and direct and sincere.
I smiled, too, and said something to the effect that I was an only child. I didn't add that I had never taken a bath with anybody, much less another woman.
Marie reached for the soap, which I hadn't used yet, and started lathering her breasts and neck and chin. As she did so she looked me over leisurely, a more focused version of the once-over she'd given me at the door the day before. I blushed and tried to keep my eyes off her breasts, but couldn't. She rubbed herself slowly with the soapy washcloth, drawing it back and forth across her big tits, reddening and slightly raising the nipples. She arched her back slightly, raising her tits, and started swaying them gently from side to side. I gazed at her and she saw my interest and laughed. She asked if I thought her breasts were pretty to look at, and I said yes, they were. I swallowed, still embarrassed, and she laughed again and then reached toward me with the cloth. She scooted a little closer to me as she did so and told me that I was very pretty too. She reached out gingerly and applied the washcloth to my shoulder and slid it easily down to one of my breasts. I stared into the water, trying to get on top of the feelings I was having. I felt her foot slide under my left thigh; she wiggled her toes and moved them almost to my pussy. I was quite excited, and surprised at finding myself that way: I had never felt the slightest Lesbian urges. But as Marie continued massaging my tits with the washcloth, I was filled with desire for her. I wanted to explore her body, to kiss her, to make love to her. My nipples stiffened under the slow, steady, gentle pressure of her hands, and as I gazed at her breasts I saw that her nipples, too, were hardening. Marie dropped the washcloth into the water and started soaping my breasts and chest and shoulder and neck with the palms of her hands, both of them; her hands were warm and smooth and supple. I picked up the washcloth and started washing her front with it, gingerly at first and then vigorously. When I dropped the washcloth the pretense that we were washing one another was forgotten, and we started caressing and fondling each other in earnest. I squeezed and lifted her breasts, testing their weight and delighting in the smooth warmth of her skin. Marie's skin glistened pink and her nipples were proudly erect. I ran a finger all the way around both her breasts and then slowly drew it up to her face. She smiled as I gently traced the outline of her jaw and cheeks, and of her delicate, pointed nose. I eased one hand down and kneaded one of her breasts, loving the firm resilient flesh and the touch of her hard little nipple.
Marie reached a hand down into the water and squeezed my thigh and slowly moved her fingers towards my pussy. I parted my legs slightly and she moved even closer, drawing her knees up halfway to her chest. Her foot was now between my legs, just inches from my pussy, and I moved towards her a little so that I could just feel her toes against my pubic hairs. Marie spread her fingers and touched my bush, probing gently closer to my pussy. I parted my legs even more, and as I did so she put her other hand behind my neck and pulled me forward gently. I closed my eyes, and we kissed. Her taste was fantastic. She darted her tongue into my mouth and pushed it hard against my tongue. I turned my head slightly and she licked all around the inside of my mouth. As we kissed she probed one or two fingers into my pussy, just parting the lips, and I moved a hand slowly down over her firm belly and below, searching in the warm water, with shaking fingers, for her pussy. Her pubic hair, wet and wiry, felt like some sort of exotic water-plant. I combed it with gentle little scratches of my fingernails, and she giggled. She pulled her face away from mine a little and looked into my eyes and smiled. "Do you like me?" she asked, and she sounded so little-girlish that I couldn't help laughing.
"Yes, Marie, I like you very much," I said. I closed my eyes again and leaned toward her and our mouths met, and this time it was my turn to explore her mouth with my tongue. I stuck out my tongue as far as I could reach it, and she washed it and pushed against it teasingly with hers. As we kissed we both pushed a little deeper into one another's pussy; I began moving my finger up and down and in and out, simulating the movements of fucking. She pushed insistently at my clitoris and let her fingers explore as much of my pussy as they could reach. I began rubbing her clitoris, loving the feel of it; I had never had my hand in another woman's crotch before, much less under circumstances like these.
Marie kissed me again, lightly, on the mouth, and then kissed my chin, my cheeks, my nose. We were both breathing quite hard now, and I was getting a little cramped. I had spread my legs as far apart as they would go, given the confines of the tub, but there was nowhere near enough room. Almost forgetting my French, I whispered my desire to get out of the tub and into the bed. Marie agreed at once, and startled me by jumping out of the tub almost in one movement.
She crossed the bedroom to the door and locked it and then jumped on the bed and lay across it, her legs parted, her pussy dripping. I wasn't far behind her. I lay next to her, on my side, and she rolled onto her side, too, and encircled me with her arms. We kissed. She ran her fingers down my back to my ass and started kneading my cheeks hard; she pushed one finger down the crack of my ass to my asshole, and tickled it with one of her long fingernails. I grabbed her ass in turn and pulled at the soft little hairs down toward her pussy. She slid down a little and cupped one of my tits in both her hands, gazed at it a second, and then lowered her head and licked firmly at my hard, straining nipple. I laid a hand easily on her back and reached down to caress her big tits with my other hand, loving the feelings that were surging through me. Soon Marie was mouthing my tits in huge gulps, taking in quite as much as she could and all but chewing on my sensitive nipples. The feeling was incredibly intense, half-pleasure and half-pain: I pushed down on her shoulders, trying to pull her off me, but only half-heartedly. My mind was full of all sorts of images of pussies and tits and asses, and I was suddenly aware of being close to orgasm. I was somehow surprised at that discovery; I had always equated orgasm with cocks, and here I was coming like a goddamned bomb with no prick in sight....
Suddenly I felt what I took to be Marie's hand at my cunt, and parted my legs. But it wasn't her hand, it was her head, and before I knew what was happening she was tonguing and licking and sucking my pussy like crazy. And that wasn't all: she had turned so that her crotch was only inches from my face. I turned my head and closed the gap delightedly by nuzzling her pussy-hairs. She smelled soapy and winey and musky at the same time. I breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of her warm, wet pussy. Then I rubbed my nose up and down her twat once or twice, tickling myself, before sticking out my tongue and easing it between her swollen pink cunt-lips. God, was she wet! I tasted her juices, decided I liked them, and went back for more, much more. She lifted one leg high and pushed her pelvis up a little, and I felt at the tip of my tongue her tender little clitoris. I slid my tongue all around it, all over it, fascinated by its tiny firmness. Now and again I had to come up for air, and as I pulled out of her musky cunt I licked and chewed at the soft skin all around her pussy, biting the pubic hairs and swabbing all the little soft folds and creases I could reach. Marie started writhing and moaning-moaning into my cunt, which felt incredibly good-and really getting carried away. She scissored her legs shut over my head, pinning me down. I started to fight her but decided no, what the hell, and kept right on sucking and licking. Breathing was difficult, but I didn't figure I'd choke to death. And she was working away just as hard at my pussy, licking and biting and sucking at my clitoris and nuzzling her chin as deeply into my pussy as she could. We were filled with one another; my world was bounded by Marie's wet pussy, by the taste and the smell and the feel of this dark, wet, fragrant world. I drank down her fluids hungrily, loving the odd taste and the curious consistency of the juices....
Marie devoted herself to my pussy, licking and sucking and swabbing it, and from time to time laughing or rather chortling into it. She ran her tongue all over my soft inner lips, gummed them, scraped them gently with her teeth. She was breathing quite hard, and I felt her every breath as a warm surge deep within me-sort of like a hot, phantom prick. She belabored my cunt and clit with her tongue, taking my clit between her teeth and scraping it, lifting it, sucking it. We were now literally rocking in one another's arms, rocking and moaning, enjoying ourselves hugely. I moved my hands all over Marie's body, squeezing her tits and pulling at her nipples, fondling her ass and probing with small movements of one finger into her tightly guarded little asshole. I plucked at her pussy-hairs and at the hairs down her crack, and caressed by the handful the flesh of her firm, straining thighs. Marie did the same to me; she rubbed and pinched and slapped my ass until my skin stung all over.
We were lying there in that mindless, happy embrace when a knock sounded on the door. I heard it and decided to ignore it, and so, I guess, did Marie. But whoever it was kept knocking-they clearly knew somebody was in the room. At last Marie pulled her head up from my pussy and asked, screaming, who it was. It was Charles, and his voice, muffled by the heavy door, sounded plaintive. I was terrified of his finding us together like that, and jumped out of bed and ran for my clothes. Marie lay across the bed and rubbed herself and laughed.
"It's only Charles, stupid," she said. She opened her arms. "Come back to me."
"Get your clothes on!" I shouted. Marie laughed at me and started rubbing her pussy vigorously with one hand and kneading her breasts with the other. I scrambled into my clothes and begged her to get dressed. She ignored me for a few minutes and then, pouting, got off the bed. She faced the door and shouted a few more curses at Charles, who was still knocking and demanding to be let in, and then she sat on the edge of the bed and laughed. She started picking her nose. I was shocked-this was the elegant woman, the well-dressed matron, who had so much impressed me just the day before. Boy, was this weird! I finished dressing and ran into the bathroom and pulled the bathtub plug and mopped up the floor as best I could with a couple of towels. I picked up Marie's robe and threw it to her and implored her once again to get dressed. She ignored me, fixing all of her attention on picking her nose. Finally she stood up, and I rushed to the bed and smoothed down the covers. She stuck her tongue out at me and cupped her beautiful breasts and fondled her nipples.
"We should invite him in," she said.
"Marie! Please-just put your robe on!" I was beside myself with fear and anger-fear of being discovered, anger with Marie for her obstinacy.
"He'd enjoy it. I know that boy, he'd enjoy it. And you should see his little prick-he's quite a young man-"
"Stop this nonsense and put that robe on," I hissed. Marie reached for the robe and opened it slowly and put it on. I ran a hairbrush through my hair and handed it to Marie, who promptly threw it at the wall and then continued slowly to button up her robe. When she was through buttoning it I opened the door; Charles all but tumbled in. To my surprise, Marie was instantly the poised and elegant matron again, thoroughly in command of herself and of the situation, apparently unmindful of her thoroughly messed-up hairdo.
"Thank you for sharing your bath, Jean," she said to me. "I shall see you at luncheon. Please see what Charles wants, will you?"
I glared at her, but before I could think of anything to say she'd left the room and Charles was standing in front of me trying not to cry. At last he got control of himself, and asked me, in English, what I had been doing.
"I had a bath, Charles, and Marie ... Marie helped me unpack my things."
"You were supposed to give me my lessons at twelve, Papa said so. Why was Marie all wet?"
"We shall have your lesson after luncheon, Charles-"
"Why was Marie all wet?"
"Well, I guess she had a bath or washed her hair or something. Now let's go get lunch." I took hold of the boy's elbow and steered him out the door. As we walked to the breakfast room Charles peppered me with questions, all of which I ignored.
And that was my introduction into the Cardon household. As things turned out, it couldn't have been more appropriate.
CHAPTER TWO
It always takes me a while to figure things out, and it took quite a while for me to figure out the Cardon family-about three days. For that space of time I was still under the impression that I had been hired as "maid" and "tutor"-that my duties entailed cleaning up (although everything was kept immaculate by a stony-faced old woman who came in every morning, often before I was even out of bed) and tutoring the kids in English (although the kids could speak it well enough, and were in any case not about to sit down and read Shakespeare when they could be out riding horses or minibikes).
By the third day I had spent only about an hour and a half tutoring Charles, and no time at all with Anne. And the sessions with Charles had little to do with lessons. The boy was incredibly curious, and spent all of our time together asking questions-some of them quite embarrassing, especially coming from a twelve-year-old. Where was I from? How old was I? Was I a virgin? How many men had I been with? How often did I go to bed with men-and so forth. I tried to dismiss most of his queries with a laugh or a shrug, but he persisted until at last I found myself hiding in my room from the lad. I would pretend to have a headache, and would close and lock the door to my room. Charles would hang around just outside for about fifteen minutes or so, hammering on the door and continuing his endless questions. After a time he would disappear, and I wouldn't see him again until suppertime, when, in his father's presence, he treated me somewhat aloofly. M. Cardon would ask the boy how his lessons had gone that day, and Charles would open his big blue eyes wide and he his head off: the lessons had gone very well, thank you, papa; he had learned ever so much about English verbs. Then Charles would look at me and smile, and I would force myself to smile back....
Anne was quite another story. She was beautiful, and knew it-and that may have been her problem. She spent much of her time upstairs in her room entertaining one, two, sometimes three young men-and sometimes not-so-young men. She would have nothing whatsoever to do with Marie, who tried to exercise some modicum of control over her, and was only barely polite to me. I suggested time and again those first few days that she and I get together and plan out her lessons, but she had a ready excuse every time: she had a ballet lesson to go to; some friends were coming by; she was tired; she was simply too busy. When M. Cardon asked her how her lessons were going, she always said "fine" and looked at her plate: and he never pressed the matter.
I was intrigued by M. Cardon-in fact, by the whole bunch of them. M. Cardon and Marie had evidently been together for several years. By now I was sure that she was his mistress, no more. But he treated her like dirt. He was always either formally correct with her, like master to servant, or downright nasty: one evening just after supper he called her a whore and a bitch and all sorts of other things I had never heard before, and ordered her to her room-all right in front of the children and me. Marie shot him a glance of pure hatred and left the room and slammed the door. Two hours later they were sitting calmly side by side in the library, reading and drinking brandy and looking for all the world like the happiest couple on earth.
On my third or fourth night in the Cardon home I was just getting ready for bed when I heard a knock on the door. I immediately assumed it was Charles, who, as I said, was always pestering me.
"I'm going to bed, Charles," I said loudly. "I'll see you in the morning."
"It is Marie. Let me in."
I was surprised-Marie had been very distant with me since our episode of several mornings before-and, frankly, excited. I remembered her warm skin, her large breasts, her fragrant and tantalizing cunt: and immediately went to the door. I opened it and she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. I stood awkwardly in front of her, wondering what to say or do.
"I have only a little while," she said. She was wearing a sweater and skirt, and began pulling the sweater off. I watched fascinated as she undid her bra and her big, full tits bounced free. I smiled at her and began unbuttoning my robe. Just as I unbuttoned the bottom button she walked up to me and put her hands under my robe and patted and kneaded the cheeks of my ass. I lifted my hands and cupped her breasts and pulled at the slightly-hardening nipples. She leaned her head close, and we kissed. I ran my hands up and down her back and she squeezed and massaged my tits until they were tingling. Then she pulled away and in one easy movement pulled down her skirt and panties. We tumbled onto the bed and started kissing one another hungrily; in a sense we were picking up where we had left off a few mornings before.
Marie patted and pressed and gently massaged my outer lips with one hand, and drew the other slowly back and forth across my breasts. I kissed her nose, her cheeks, her chin and then, firmly, her mouth; she parted her lips and I stuck my tongue into her mouth as far as I could reach it. She bit down gently on my tongue and I drew it out slowly, savoring the taste and the texture, anxious for more. Kissing Marie was much different from kissing a man: she was soft and gentle and yielding, and her demands as a lover were much more subtle than those of any man I had ever fucked. We kissed, just kissed, for a long, long time. Then, unable to contain myself any longer, I lowered my head and kissed her shoulders and chest and, finally, her beautiful breasts.
"You are so nice to me," Marie whispered. "So very nice...." She lifted one breast high and pointed its nipple at me, and I tongued it gently. It was firm and erect. I took it between my lips and plucked it gently, then opened my mouth and sucked like a hungry child. Her breast was warm and soft and it tasted and smelled delicious. I sucked it, making all sorts of little wet sounds, and she started crooning deep in her throat. She played her hands all over the back of my head and neck, sending chills down my spine.
"You ... are so ... nice ... so nice ... she said over and over again, as if in a trance. I moved from one breast to the other, pulled at her nipples, sucked as much of her warm flesh as I could take into my mouth, and then moved slowly back to the first breast. I pressed my knee against her crotch gently, feeling on my kneecap the little scratchy pubic hairs just below her pussy. I moved my leg up and down and she closed her thighs around it, capturing it; I slid my hand down her smooth firm belly and below, and combed my fingers lightly through her bush. She was getting moist. I pressed steadily downward until I felt the deliciously soft folds, the outer lips. I spread my palm flat and pressed downward with it, and eased one finger down gently into the warm, moist cleft between the lips. She gasped and parted her legs and at the same time began pushing gently at the top of my head, wanting me to go lower, to go down. I needed no further encouragement. I slid down her body until my mouth was poised right over her pussy. With one hand I continued fondling her breasts, caressing and massaging them and pulHng gently at her upright nipples; with the other I smoothed and kneaded her cunt-lips. She smelled good, very good: I rubbed my nose slowly back and forth through the forest of her pubic hair, inhaled deeply, blew out through my mouth. Her hairs stirred gently under my mouth. I pushed down with my chin and stuck my tongue out, just a little at first, just tasting, just sampling....She lifted her hips and pressed down hard at the back of my head, forcing my mouth down and into her. Finally I buried my face in her pussy and licked and swabbed and sucked for all I was worth. I was lost in there, happily lost in a delightful moist and musky paradise. I sucked gladly, drawing out and drinking down her fluids. I found her clitoris and mashed my tongue against it as hard as I could. Marie closed her thighs tightly around my neck and shoulders and started bucking her hips gently, rocking back and forth and crooning deeply all the while. While I sucked and kissed and tongued her pussy I was caressing her big tits like crazy, grabbing them by the handful and kneading and slapping them in mindless enjoyment.
Pretty soon it all got a bit much for her, and she lifted my head out of her crotch with strong, determined hands. I came up happy and wet, wet as a duck with her fluids. She sat up in the bed and leaned far down and kissed me on the lips. Before I could get myself together to kiss her properly she turned in the bed and sort of twisted me onto my back. I drew up my legs and she pushed them back down again. She lifted a leg over my head and straddled me; a little drop of her juices landed on my chin. I reached above me and kneaded her ass, and she started in on my pussy. She stuck her chin firmly against my lips and parted them slightly, then dipped her head and drew her tongue firmly between my lips. I was wet, of course, and as soon as she discovered that fact she pressed a finger or two deep within me. She found my clitoris and plucked it, then started rhythmically massaging it.
I pushed my head back and pressed her crotch down directly into my face and started kissing and tonguing all that I could reach. She squirmed and corkscrewed her ass, and it was all I could do to breathe. The whole while she kept her finger busy in my cunt, and her mouth just as busy right alongside. Her breasts were smashed down against the skin of my stomach, and as we moved together her nipples pressed in hard. She was really going crazy now-we both were-and I was feeling the first delightful surges of orgasm. We were both sweating, both thoroughly drenched in one another's fluids and in our own and the other's sweat. Marie's hair was all over my pussy and ass and belly, and a little bit of it was scratching the inside of my cunt, where her finger continued its frantic movements against my clitoris.
I don't know just when or just how, but I gradually became aware that we were not alone. The feeling just sort of dawned over me. At any rate, somewhere during our lovemaking I happened to see a cock, huge and close. I thought at first that I had imagined it-my head was full of cocks and cunts and balls and asses-but then, with a cold shudder, I realized that I actually had seen a cock. I was terrified. I fought my way out from under Marie and tried to get her head and hands out of my pussy. M. Cardon was standing next to the bed, naked, holding his big cock in one hand and slowly jacking himself off.
For a second I just froze. Then I wrenched myself out from under Marie, who protested loudly and grabbed at me, trying to get her head back to my pussy. I pulled away again and shouted at her, and in a moment we were both sitting up in bed, panting and bedraggled, looking at M. Cardon. My look was full of fear and embarrassment; Marie, on the other hand, looked angry and defiant. M. Cardon merely smiled at us both, and continued pulling himself off. In spite of myself I couldn't keep my eyes off his prick.
Nobody said anything for nearly a minute. Then M. Cardon said, softly, "Please continue, don't let me bother you."
"Fuck yourself," Marie said flatly. She was sitting on her haunches, her head back and her breast heaving, and she looked ready to kill. I kept my legs together and looked at the floor.
M. Cardon took a step or two toward me and lifted my chin with his free hand. His bulbous cock was only inches from my face. He cupped his balls and planted his feet about six inches apart, and stuck his pelvis a few more inches in my direction.
"I want you to suck me off," he said to me, very gravely, in English. I closed my eyes, hoping somehow to disappear, to get away from this whole scene. But he held his hand firmly on my chin, and pulled my face towards him a little. He moved even closer and started rubbing his cock gently against my cheek. I was turned on in spite of myself. I opened my eyes and looked up at him; he was smiling slightly, his lips parted, and gazing intently into my eyes. "Go ahead," he said. I stole a glance at Marie, who was looking more interested than angry now. She nodded at me and smiled.
I reached out and grabbed M. Cardon's hips and pulled him close. Slowly, almost reluctantly, I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue and licked the head of M. Cardon's big cock. His prick jumped half an inch at my tongue's touch. I bent my head and licked slowly all the way down one side of his cock, then around underneath back up to the head. Then I parted my lips and took between them the head of his shaft, and began sucking in earnest. He sighed loudly and started bucking his hips slightly, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth until I thought I would choke. In spite of myself I began liking what I was doing, in fact liking it very much; pretty soon I was sucking for all I was worth, sucking and kneading his big, heavy-hanging balls and with one finger probing insistently at his tight asshole.
Marie was beginning to enjoy this unexpected turn of events, too. She had moved closer to me, and as I sucked her lover's cock she fondled and caressed my tits. M. Cardon was playing with them, too, and the sensation was incredible. Once in a while M. Cardon would lift one of my tits and squeeze it and rub it all over his balls, tickling my sensitive nipples with his pubic hair. Then Marie would grab my breast with her warm fingers and rub it all over, very gently and then more roughly until I reached up and slapped her hand away.
After a few minutes M. Cardon gently pushed my head away from his cock and pushed my hands away from his balls. He sat on the edge of the bed between Marie and myself, and started finger-fucking the both of us. Marie leaned down and, grabbing his cock with one hand, started licking the thing all over, up and down; she licked his cock, his balls, and ah over his inner thighs. M. Cardon put one hand around my shoulder and started playing with my tit, plucking the nipple almost painfully and then mashing my breast against my chest, over and over again. His finger had probed deep into my pussy now, and he was cupping and squeezing and kneading the folds of my cunt slowly and steadily. I was dripping with juices, and my cunt was on fire: I had never experienced such long, steady stimulation. I wanted to fuck, and said so, softly, to M. Cardon. In response he simply took his hand out of my crotch and lay back upon the bed, smiling. Marie swung around enough to get a good mouthful of his cock, but I pushed her aside and hoisted myself atop M. Cardon. Marie called me a bastard and tried to push me off, but I held my ground and laughed at her.
I still wasn't really properly positioned, though. I was straddling M. Cardon, but his cock was pushed down toward the bed by my weight. I lifted myself a little, grabbed his cock, and guided it home. Then, with my back to him, I slid down slowly, loving the feel of his huge prick as it filled my cunt to overflowing. His cock was really huge-bigger, I think, than any I had fucked up till then. I seized it like a trophy, grabbed it and held on for dear life. Jesus, I thought: Jesus! I was having the best of two worlds, the world of Marie's incredible cunt, the world of M. Cardon's fantastic cock. I fucked him like a crazed machine, a fuck-machine; I loosed my cunt on him like a wild she-animal....From behind me, he grunted and moaned and sighed like crazy. He reached around and grabbed my tits and squeezed them hard, mashing my nipples, pressing my breasts until I thought they'd burst. I started moving up and down on him, pivoting myself on his cock, taking all of him into me and concentrating all of my energies on his cock and my pussy, on our fucking.
Marie quit pouting after a second or two, and when I next became aware of her she was crouching on the floor between M. Cardon's legs, studying intently the juncture of our crotches. She all but stuck her goddamned nose in these: and before I knew what was happening, she had stuck her finger in, just wedged it in along with M. Cardon's huge prick. I felt it inside me, sort of like a little appendage to the cock I was devouring with my wet and juicy cunt. Marie pulled out her finger and slowly licked it off, savoring the taste ... then she bent her head and started licking all over the place, my pussy and M. Cardon's balls and the little of his cock that wasn't submerged in my cunt. After a while she sort of half-stood and started in on my tits, sucking and licking and gently biting them. And at the same time M. Cardon was trying to rub and squeeze and knead them. He'd be on my left tit and she'd be on my right, and then they'd reverse position and he'd be where she'd been, and vice-versa. It was driving me crazy. I was ready to come, then was coming, coming, coming. I felt deep within my wet pussy the first faint tremblings of M. Cardon's coming, and then he too, was coming; I drank up with my cunt the hot-spurted jets of his come, and loved it, loved it....I milked him dry, thoroughly drenching myself and him and Marie in the process. God, how I came!
And half an hour later I watched almost clinically as Marie and M. Cardon went at it. She was on her back, her feet planted squarely into his ass, and he was giving it to her slowly, surely, steadily; I got behind them and moved in as close as I could, and smelled their good fuck-smells and examined them as they went at it. Her pussy was alive around his cock, and his cock was a pulsing, raging instrument of energy. His balls banged against her lily-white ass rhythmically and almost audibly. Her cunt was foamy, creamy, milky; and as they fucked it sloshed incredibly. I had never watched people fucking before, and I was incredibly turned on by it. I had come only minutes before, and here I was getting all hot again. I wanted a part of the action. I rubbed my hands all over M. Cardon's tight, moving ass, and then rubbed my tits there, too. I massaged his asshole. I reached between them and grabbed for Marie's tits, and pinched the nipples as hard as I dared. I put my other hand around the base of M. Cardon's hard-thrusting cock, and made a ring of my fingers and squeezed hard, just the way a cunt squeezes; he didn't even seem to notice.
At last Marie started to come, and then M.
Cardon started fucking her faster and faster. His ass was white where her heels had dug in, and she scraped her long fingernails down his back in painful-looking tracery. Marie was crooning and moaning deep in her throat almost continuously, and M. Cardon was breathing hard and grunting from time to time. They both seemed oblivious to my being there; they were thoroughly caught up in fucking, and what a fuck it was! M. Cardon came at last, and to the milky froth that was already coming out of Marie's pussy was added his pungent-smelling come. I reached down and wiped off a fingerful of the stuff and put my finger in my mouth and tasted, gingerly at first and then with relish, the salty, musky stuff.
After a while they were quiet, and then M. Cardon rolled off Marie and lay on his side, panting. He reached over to where I sat on the edge of the bed and, in a curiously familiar gesture, took my hand and squeezed it gently. I squeezed back, uncertain of the message that was presumably passing between us, and more than a little puzzled by everything that had happened. Marie lay quite still, a little half-smile on her face, one hand on M. Cardon's softening, still-wet cock, and the other resting easily on her dewy cunt.
We all three lay quietly for about half an hour or so, and then I said I wanted to go to sleep. M. Cardon roused himself and stood up and stretched. He walked into the bathroom and pissed, and then came back into the bedroom and said goodnight, almost off-handedly, to Marie and me. Then, naked, his cock swinging, he walked out of the room and shut the door. Marie got up after he'd left, kissed me lightly on the forehead, and then she left, too.
I was left with a damp bed and a good many feelings and thoughts to sort out. I wasn't at all sure what was happening; I was still less sure that I liked it. M. Cardon was weird, and Marie weirder still. I fell asleep wondering what the next day would bring-and hoping vaguely it would bring more of the same.
CHAPTER THREE
When I got up the next morning the house was as quiet as a cemetery. Nobody was home. I fixed myself a bite to eat in the big, old-fashioned kitchen, cleaned up, put on a coat, and left the house. It was almost noon, and I wanted to find Michael. I wasn't sure how I was going to do it, but I wanted to tell him what was going on. Part of me wanted to clear the hell out of the Cardon household while I still could; another part, perhaps the stronger part, wanted to stay for more of the same odd fun and games I'd been engaged in. I hoped Michael could resolve the difficulty.
Michael was anything but sympathetic. When I finally tracked him down, at his favorite cafe, it was almost seven o'clock, and I was close to tears. To make matters worse, he was with another girl-a Greek girl whom he'd been dating before he met me. I asked him if we could have a word together, and the girl got the idea and went off in a huff, which only made Michael angrier.
"What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were through with me."
"Mike, I have to talk to you. I'm-I'm going through some weird shit."
"Like what? Working too hard?"
"Hardly. I don't really work at all. It's the people I work for...."
"Well?"
I hardly knew where to begin. Michael and I had had few secrets from one another, but I had never had to tell him anything quite like what I had to tell him now. He sensed my difficulty, and for once kept his mouth shut until I got control of myself.
I began by telling him what I knew of the family-about the kids, and their missing mother, and about Marie. Then I told him, in skimpy detail, about Marie's and my first experience, the one beginning in the bathtub. He listened intently and asked few questions. Then, when I told him about what had happened the night before, he got quite angry.
"You're a fool, Jeannie," he said. "A goddamned fool. You've got yourself in with a bunch of perverts, and you don't have sense enough to leave the place immediately. Jesus. You should call the police on the bastards."
"I went along with them all the way, Michael," I said softly. "I'm as guilty as they are-if they're guilty of anything."
"Nonsense! They took advantage of you. This Marie creature didn't even wait a full day before seducing you, or whatever you call it. And the guy must be really fucked up. Did it ever occur to you that they hired you just to fuck around with you?"
"No," I lied. I'm supposed to be tutoring the kids."
"And have you? Have you taught them anything?"
"Well, no, not really. But I've only been there three days."
"Well, you're not going to be there one more day, I can tell you that. Come on, let's go get your things out of there. You can move back in with me."
"I don't want to move back in with you."
"Oh. Fine. I see. What will you do, walk the streets?"
"Michael-"
"Forget it. You know what I think? I think you like those people. I think you like fucking around with them, especially with that woman. Jeannie, you're as bad as they are. So stay there. I'll see you around." With that, Michael got up. He was red with anger; I thought he was going to hit me. He started to say something more, changed his mind, gave me a look I'll never forget, and stormed out of the place.
Which did my spirits no good at all. I was thoroughly confused, and just as unhappy. Maybe Michael was right-maybe I was as bad as Marie and M. Cardon. I couldn't deny having liked what we had done. I had been turned on by Marie, and even more so by M. Cardon. Jesus. Jesus.
I left the cafe and wandered the gray streets for an hour or so, trying to decide what to do. I knew I should go back to the Cardon place and get my things and go over to Michael's and stay there. And I knew just as well that I wouldn't. I knew I'd go back to the Cardon household, and stay there-for just a little while, I told myself. Just long enough to figure things out, and maybe get enough money to leave Paris for good.
I went back to my room by way of the little patio. I wanted to be alone, and couldn't even face the prospect of having to greet M. Cardon or Marie, or the kids, for that matter. So I went in the back door, praying that nobody would search me out. I took a long, hot bath, dressed in my favorite nightgown, and went to bed.
I woke up some time later terribly afraid. Someone was playing with my breasts. I stifled a scream and sat bolt upright and fumbled for the switch on the lamp by the bed. Then I felt a hard cock against my thigh, and knew that the intruder was M. Cardon. I switched on the light and turned to him, angry as hell. He looked sheepish and embarrassed.
"What the hell are you doing here, you bastard!" I shouted. "Get out! Get out of here right this instant!"
"Jean, please, I couldn't stay away..
"Don't you give me that bullshit, you son of a bitch. Get out, and keep your little bitch out of here, too."
"Please. I'm sorry. Let me explain."
"Get out, just get out."
M. Cardon sat up next to me and folded his arms around his knees. He looked like a little boy who'd been caught stealing from his mother's purse. In spite of myself, I laughed. It was the wrong thing to do. In a second his hands were all over my breasts, and I was fighting him off again. He grabbed my wrists and held them tight and forced them back onto the bed, and then pressed his full weight against me, pinning me down. At the same time he lifted himself up onto me, and opened my legs with his knee. I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth with his hand. I bit his palm and he recoiled in anger, and slapped me, hard, across the cheek. Then he bent his head and kissed me on the mouth. I bit his hp; he slapped me again. He was trying to work his hard prick into my pussy all the while. I drew my legs up as high as I could, but he forced them apart again with his knee; his cock pushed hard into my belly, hurting me. I could hardly move at all. His grip was still tight on my wrists, and my breasts were crushed under his chest; and, against my will, again in spite of myself, I was beginning to like it. Slowly, guardedly, I relaxed. He sensed my desire and he, too, relaxed. He released my wrists, and I put my arms around his back and held him close. Hating myself for doing it, I spread my legs wide, inviting him home; he complied almost at once.
He was surprisingly gentle, once I quit fighting him. I was getting turned on more and more by the second, but my pussy still wasn't quite wet enough, and he probed his massive prick in slowly, waiting for me to get properly lubricated. I reached down and grabbed his cock and massaged it briskly, loving the feel of it, and pulled gently at his scrotum, testing the weight of his big balls. We kissed. I greedily sucked his tongue into my mouth and scraped it gently with my teeth. His tongue was like a hard little cock in my mouth, wet and firm, and he moved it slowly in and out, imitating the motions of fucking. I pushed it out of my mouth and eased my tongue into his, duplicating his motions. He bit down gently and I withdrew, and hugged him close. He rubbed his rough beard on my cheek and I tongued his ear and nipped lightly at his earlobe. And gradually, throughout all this, he slid slowly, easily, hugely into my wet and waiting pussy.
At last we began to fuck, really to fuck: I drew him deeply within me and pulled as hard as I could, and his cock pushed hard against the soft, tender folds of my cunt. Then he pulled out a little, and I pushed, and then I pulled again. In and out, in and out, slowly, slowly; our fuck just sort of rolled along easily. I dug my heels into his ass, pushing down as hard as I could and then letting up suddenly. I ran my hands all over his back, down to the cheeks of his ass and back up again; and pushed hard into the crack of his ass and down to his asshole. He kissed my lips and chin and cheeks, and down the slope of my neck to my shoulders. He fondled and gently kneaded and played with my breasts, letting his fingertips wander gently all over them and then pinching my nipples gently between his warm, strong fingers. His balls slid gently against my ass, tickling me with their gentle pressure, and then, as we moved faster, banged time and again against my ass. We were sweating profusely now. My cunt was thoroughly wet, and my juices dripped slowly down my ass to the sheets. He lifted his head and we kissed again, tenderly, gently; I drank down his saliva, and he mine. We fucked like old lovers, gently, lovingly, unmindful of anything but one another.
My body had a mind of its own. My breasts were numb with pleasure; my cunt was saturated with it. I felt every little vein and rise in his cock. When he pulled up and almost out of me I felt with delight the little ridge under the head of his cock. My mind was full of images of his cock, his balls, his ass and face and smile. He was a fine man to look at, a superb man to fuck. Fleeting images of Marie's body-of her beautifully soft pussy, her firm-muscled ass, her fantastic tits, her incredible pussy-smells-floated through my mind and fell away. Now, in the course of this beautiful fuck, nothing seemed perverse. Sex was beautiful, any sex; this sex was incredible. I wrapped my arms tightly around M. Cardon and abandoned my body to him. He fucked me slowly, steadily, expertly. I had his cock in my cunt, and the picture of his cock in my head, the taste of his cock in my mouth's memory. I wanted nothing more.
As we fucked M. Cardon continued his gentle manipulations of my breasts. His fingers were magical. He seemed to know just where the line between pleasure and pain was, and to come just up to that edge every time. He pinched me, and it almost hurt-but not quite. He squeezed until it almost hurt, but not quite. He cupped and palmed and pressed my breasts until they could stand no more-and then slacked off. Now and again he bent his head, cupped a breast, and sucked on it noisily, greedily-but always painlessly. This man who had been so fierce just a while before was now as gentle as could be. He was bringing me slowly to orgasm, guiding me there, directing me; and I went along gladly, loving every step of the way.
I came and came again and again before I felt the furious gush of his come. He shot into me, deep into me, pressing himself steadily in; and I pulled hungrily with my cunt muscles, wanting every last drop. My pussy was flooded. His come and my juices mixed and sloshed and poured out, drenching my ass and his cock and his balls, too. And still he stayed in me, slackening off only gradually; his balls, sticky now, were all but glued to my ass. I arched my hips high off the bed, wanting all of him, taking him in, and then eased myself back down. We lay panting in one another's arms for a long, long time.
I was almost asleep when, perhaps an hour later, I heard him pissing in the bathroom. He came back to the bed and lifted the blanket and sheets, and I crawled underneath, and he did, too. He folded me in his embrace, and we kissed, lightly at first and then with mounting passion. He was ready to go again; his cock, stiff and warm, pressed insistently against my hip. I was too tired, though, and I rolled over, turning my back to him. Undaunted, he reached over my back and started caressing my tits, very gently. His cock was now pressing firmly down the crack of my ass. He slid down slightly, and I felt him guiding his cock home. Jesus, I thought, here we go again ... and we did. I kept my back to him and lifted my upper leg slightly, and he slid the tip of his hard cock between my tender, swollen lips. He went even slower this time, if anything, than he had before; my cunt just sort of absorbed his cock. I was still more than wet from our just-ended fuck, and his cock found its way all the way home without the slightest difficulty. I grasped it as best I could, and he slowly began rocking back and forth. In no time at all I was as turned on as he was. I had never had it from the rear before, and found myself loving it. As we fucked he kissed the back of my neck and blew softly up the little hollow beneath my ear. His breathing sounded like a song. I pulled at his cock as hard as I could, and reached behind him and pulled hard at his ass. He had cocked one leg over mine, and was pressed against my whole body like a pattern.
And then he did a very strange thing. In almost one movement he pulled his cock out of my cunt and probed it in a little ways into my asshole. I couldn't have been more surprised. I tried to turn away from him, but he held me tightly and told me, softly, in French, to relax. I tried to, but it hurt like hell, and I told him so. He kept probing at me, though, without really getting it in, and at the same time pushed two or three fingers into my cunt. I was confused and a little angry. I reached down between my legs and tried to grab his cock, but he was holding himself firmly and wouldn't let go. He just kept poking the end of his cock at my asshole. I finally reached over my side and hit him, quite hard, on the back; and then, with a sigh, he moved his cock back down where it belonged, and started to fuck me as before. The interruption had taken the edge off my desire, to say the least, but in a few minutes I felt the hot, wet spasm of his climax. He pulled out of me almost at once and lay face-down on the bed. I got out of bed and went into the bathroom and cleaned up and peed. When I came back I lay next to him and ran my fingers through his hair, wondering just what sorts of things went on in his head. I found myself liking him immensely. He was the strangest man I'd ever met, much less bedded; I wanted to understand him. I lay against his sleeping body and ran my fingers through his hair, wondering, for a long, long time.
CHAPTER FOUR
One afternoon, about two months after I had moved into the Cardon household, I returned from shopping in an excited, glorious mood. M. Cardon had promised me that he would take me to the theater that night, as a sort of gift. Marie knew nothing about it-indeed, nobody else did. It was a secret, and a happy one.
I went to my room and bathed and dressed in an old comfortable robe, and then went up to Anne's room to tell her that I wanted to postpone the English lesson I was supposed to give her early the next morning. Halfway up the stairs, I heard soft talking coming from Anne's room: very quietly I stole up the stairs and looked in the half-open door.
Anne was sitting on the edge of her bed, fully clothed. Her hands were around the hips of a young man with bright red hair. He was fully dressed, too, but his big cock jutted from his pants. And Anne was slowly moving her head up and down on his cock, blowing him and looking as though she very much enjoyed what she was doing. As I watched the young man pulled her head even closer to his body and held it there. Then he slid one his hands down the front of her sweater and began massaging her tits. Anne tilted her head up and looked at him with adoring eyes. Then she started working at his pants, undoing his belt-buckle and unbuttoning his pants. She lifted her head long enough to pull his pants and shorts down. Before she could get her mouth back on his cock, though, he lifted her to her feet and kissed her hard on the mouth. His pulsing cock poked into her slacks just over her crotch. She reached down and grabbed it and pulled it once or twice, and ran her fingertips lightly under his balls, through his red pubic hair.
I continued to watch, getting more turned on by the minute, as the guy lifted her sweater up and pulled it off, freeing Anne's beautiful young tits. Jesus, what a body she had! Her tits were full and smooth-looking and were capped with long, hard nipples that were a full, rich brownish pink in color. I tried to imagine what her breasts must feel like as the young man ran his hands slowly over them, one at a time, tweaking the large nipples and smoothing and palming the beautiful white skin. Although I felt like an intruder I stayed where I was, my eye glued to the little space between the door and the door-frame; and as I watched I put my hand under my robe and parted my fast-moistening pussy-lips and gently, slowly, started stroking myself off. The sight was beautiful: a handsome young man, his pants down to expose his big cock and his solid young balls, stroking the beautiful, firm breasts of a lovely young woman....
I watched as Anne reached down and undid the snap that held her slacks, arid let them slide easily to the floor. Almost without moving she stepped out of them. The young man slid his hands down from her breasts and eased his fingers under her panties and slid them down almost to her knees. Anne lifted one leg, pulled at her panties, dropped them to the floor. Now she was altogether naked. I could hardly believe her loveliness. Her legs were long and well-shaped, and where they came together her pubic hair was a soft reddish brown in color. I could just make out the little cleft at the center of her cunt. Her waist was small, and her tits-well, she was a fabulously developed teen-age girl.
Her companion now took off his pants, dropped his shorts to the floor, and got out of his shirt and tee-shirt in no time at all. He was a strong, healthy-looking boy whose big cock would be the envy of many a man. As soon as he was naked he took Anne into his arms again, and they embraced. He ran his hands all over her ass, her back, the backs of her thighs; and she did the same to him, parting his ass-cheeks gently and running her fingers down the crack. His cock pressed hard between them, and her breasts rolled against his chest. Jesus, I wanted to run into the room and jump onto the bed and devour them both. But I knew that I'd scare the shit out of them if I so much as coughed. So I kept quiet, and contented myself with warm, slow movements of my own hand in my fast-moistening pussy.
The young man and Anne were both breathing hard now. From where I stood they sounded like animals panting on a warm day. The young man especially seemed aroused. His hands were going crazy on Anne's firm young ass, and from time to time he ducked his head down and licked fiercely at her ripe young nipples. At one point he put his hands firmly atop her shoulders and pushed down. She cried out and tried to turn away, but he held her tightly and pushed down hard. Slowly she slid down his body, scraping her nipples against him, and sat on the bed in front of him again. He took his hands off her shoulders and grabbed her head and held it firmly, and guided it once more to his cock. She kept her mouth closed, and his prick slid off to one side, against her cheek.
"Do it," he commanded. These were the first words I had heard him speak. He sounded cruel and angry.
"Please ... no," Anne said softly.
"Do it!" the young man repeated. He bucked his hips back and shoved his cock hard at Anne's face again. His cock looked like a weapon, hard and red and angry.
Anne looked up into his face. I thought she was going to cry. "Please, Jean," she whispered. "I love you. Let me do it later. Now I want to make love with you....
"Suck me!" the young man commanded. He twisted her head hard; her skin was white beneath his strong fingers.
With a sob Anne lowered her eyes from the young man's face to his cock. Slowly she opened her mouth and leaned towards him. He pulled his hips back a little and, guiding himself with one hand, slid his cock firmly into her open mouth. Now he smiled; he gently caressed her neck and throat, and said softly that he loved her, that he loved her very much, that she was his good little girl....
I was beside myself with conflicting emotions. I was still very much turned on by watching them; I still played my hand slowly back and forth in my pussy. But I was angry at the boy, and angry, too, at Anne: Why did she let him get away with it? I had to admit that she didn't look terribly unhappy now, though. In fact she was enjoying what she was doing. She was sucking on his cock avidly, pulling in hard with her cheeks and washing the tip with her tongue and occasionally nipping the wet white skin of his prick with her bright little teeth. Sometimes she dug at his ass with her fists; other times she gently, lovingly fondled his balls and ran her fingertips through his flame-red pubic hair. The boy was lost in pleasure. His hands were lightly resting on her shoulders now, and they moved only when she moved to roll her breasts against his thighs or to press one of her hard nipples into the soft skin at the bottom of his cock.
I was lost in pleasure too-and what an odd pleasure it was. I had never pictured myself as the type who would get her rocks off from watching other people fuck. And here I was, jerking myself off while watching a couple of teenagers-and from a hidden vantage point. But I couldn't deny being turned on. My pussy was wet with juices, my nipples were firm and erect, my mind was full of the beautiful young bodies I was so intently watching. I had hoisted my robe up over my hips now, and was jacking myself off from behind: I had my hand crammed up my pussy almost to the wrist, and was jiggling my clit frantically. I was pulling my cunt-muscles, too, pulling hard as if I were fucking, as if a warm cock were inside me instead of my own hand; as if I were Anne fucking that beautiful young boy, sucking his pulsing-hard cock, fondling his balls. And, I admit, thinking also of feeling Anne's lovely young breasts, imagining myself pulling at those sweet nipples and suckling them and the firm, white flesh beneath, and perhaps nuzzling close to her warm, fragrant pussy, her cunt, and kissing, and sucking....
Suddenly the boy pushed Anne's head roughly away from his cock. Clearly he was about to come and didn't want to. Perhaps he was saving himself, saving his come for the real thing, for fucking her. Or perhaps he was ashamed to come inside her mouth. I've known men like that. They want you to suck them all the way, and when you do, you really work at it, you suck for all you're worth and then some-when the moment comes they pull it out, denying you what you've worked for, the delight of feeling that good hot man-come spurting down your eager throat, and the fine delectable taste. Now that he was close to coming the boy pulled himself out of Anne's mouth. He'd made her do it; now he was making her stop. She made an attempt to recapture his cock, to put it back in her mouth, but he held himself away and slipped out of her grasp. Worse, he stood a few feet away and laughed at her, his hands on his hips, his big cock poking high into the air, and called her a filthy little bitch.
I was so mad at him I quit jacking off and almost burst through the door. But I remembered that I wasn't exactly supposed to be a referee here, and anyhow I liked watching these two no matter what they did to or with one another. I put my hand back at my pussy-this time from the front-and, eyeing Anne closely, studying her beautiful body, started flicking my clitoris again, slowly and steadily. Fuck the boy and his nastiness, I told myself.
I was afraid that he was going to make her grovel or something-you know, pull the superiority bit over her-but instead he surprised me pleasantly by dropping his bad-guy routine and walking over to her and putting his arms around her. She looked miserable and happy at the same time. They held each other for a little while and then he pulled himself away a little and looked hard into her face. Then he slid down so that his face was right over her tits, and started tonguing them, sucking gently on her nipples, which were still hard, and licking all over one breast before crossing to the other and kissing, licking, and sucking it. His movements had Anne in a trance, or so it seemed. A beautiful smile played over her face as he nuzzled her breasts, and her eyes were glazed. She was standing by the foot of the bed, and as he continued she very slowly sat down, and then lay back. He accompanied her every move, so that finally he was crouching in front of her, standing between her legs, still sucking and licking her breasts. She reached up and put her arms around him and pulled him close, and then with one hand reached down between his legs and grabbed his cock and held it firmly, protectively, not moving her hand. His big cock jerked as she grabbed it, then pulsed slightly as she held it. I was clear across the room, but even so I could see a drop of moisture as it oozed out of his cockslit and rolled slowly down onto I her hand like a liquid diamond.
All this was almost too much for me. I had been standing in an uncomfortable half-crouch for at least twenty minutes now, and I was shaking from the strain of it. Also my hand was tired. I wanted nothing more than to walk into the room and join the couple in everything they were doing, everything they would do; but I knew, of course, that that would spoil it all. So I stayed where I was, changing hands now and then, and slowing my pace so I wouldn't start coming too soon. Once I let out a little moan, and froze in terror: but Anne and her friend were so busy they didn't seem to hear.
They were all but fucking now. She was rubbing the soft, moist end of his cock all over her thighs and lower belly and outer lips, and he was kneading her tits with big, powerful movements of his hands. Anne's legs were fully spread now, and from where I watched I had a perfect view of her pink, moist pussy. I could also see the puckered little flower of her asshole. I had never seen a girl's asshole before. I liked it. It was cute.
As I watched, fascinated, the young man finally inserted himself. He did it slowly, gently, guiding his big cock between her tender pink lips and easing in with surprising gentleness. Anne cried out and scraped her nails down his back, and he held back a little, waiting, controlling himself. She moaned and he pushed forward again, not hard, and she lifted her legs high and locked her ankles around his back. His ass was sweaty and, in the cleft between the cheeks, hairy; and as he moved up and started the first long plunge into Anne's beautiful pussy, I saw all at once his asshole, his dangling balls, a bit of his thick-corded prick, her silken outer lips, and her delicate little asshole-all framed in young pubic hair, his bright copper-red, hers golden brown. They moved and the picture was gone, only to be replaced by another and then another as they pushed against one another, moved, pushed again....
In no time at all Anne was moaning steadily and Jean, the young man, was boring into her with drill-like intensity. He rode her like an animal, and she struggled beneath him fiercely. He suckled her tits and kissed her hard on the mouth, and she returned his kisses and bit painfully into his shoulder. As they fucked she lowered her hands to his ass and pulled hard at his cheeks, slapped him and pulled some more. He plunged into her relentlessly, breaking his rhythm only once when his big wet cock slipped out and careened over her belly until he got his hand down there and guided it home again. They were both panting hard now, fish out of water, and they were saying things I couldn't quite hear.
And then they were coming, and I speeded up my movements in my pussy so that I could come with them. The young man's body was glistening with sweat now, and when he came he bucked fast and hard, driving himself hard into her body. She evidently realized that he was coming, for she clamped her thighs around him tighter than ever and started making this odd little half-chuckling sound deep in her throat. Not he started spasming and he slowed down, drawing each movement out to its utmost and savoring it. She was with him all the way. When he pushed his pleasure out into her she pulled so hard she almost fell off him.
And I almost fell through the doorway. My pussy was froth itself, and my hand was so wet and hot and tired I thought it would fall off. But I was coming, oh yeah I was coming very damned nicely indeed: I slowed my hand down and contented myself with tickling my clitoris until-well, until I came. Then I pulled my hand out of my pussy and lifted it to my face and smelled deeply my own good deep woman-smells, and thought of Anne and her coming and could almost smell her smell, too. I watched just a little longer through the door, and then, my backbone cracking once or twice, pushed my robe back down where it belonged and quietly, slowly, turned and crept back down the long carpeted stairway.
An hour later I was sitting in the library pretending to read when Anne and Jean walked by. I called out and Anne came in and introduced Jean, very formally, very properly. Jean smiled but said nothing. Before they left I managed to catch his eye, and winked at him. He looked startled but not scared, the way an American boy would have looked. He thought I meant I wanted him for myself. Which, I guess, I did mean.
After Anne and Jean had left I had an hour before M. Cardon was due home. I went back to my room and drew another bath, and while I was sitting in it my mind just naturally wandered back to what I had seen earlier, and-well, I jerked off again. Jerking off in the tub is a lot more comfortable than doing it crouched next to a door, believe you me.
M. Cardon took me to a wonderful play at the Porte St. Martin-a very sad drama about a family held in terror by two young girls-and then to a little bar in the Plaisance.
"You'll like this place, Jeannie," M. Cardon said. "It is-well, different." He smiled. I pressed him for more information about the place, but he rebuffed my questions with smiles that told me nothing.
He was wrong. I didn't like the place at all. It turned out to be a gay bar, full of angry-looking lesbians and hot-eyed young homosexuals. M. Cardon is quite handsome, and I am told I'm beautiful, and so our entry turned a lot of heads. I was frightened. People were all but devouring us with their eyes. One young man who wore mascara walked up to M. Cardon and rubbed up against him coyly, like a woman M. Cardon might have known for years. I felt sorry for the young man. He wasn't bad-looking at all, but the mascara made him look foolish-like a clown after the circus has closed. He looked at me for only an instant, and his eyes were frightened. M. Cardon stood stiffly next to me, trying to ignore the boy, who kept saying, over and over, "I am ready again, I am ready again...." Suddenly, with a jolt, I realized that M. Cardon knew the boy. I wondered how. I was afraid I knew.
We stayed only a few minutes. What had evidently been intended to be a lark-a little visit to the other side, so to speak, to laugh at the freaks-had turned ominous. M. Cardon was not in a good mood. Only after I had tickled and teased him for twenty minutes, in the cab on the way home, did he relax a little. When we were only a block or two from the house he reached up and put a hand on the driver's shoulder.
"Stop," he said sharply. He turned to me, smiling. "I have an idea," he said. "Will you come with me on an adventure?"
I was pretty tired and more anxious for sleep than for an adventure, whatever that might prove to be, but I didn't want to sour his mood again, so I said sure, and forced myself to smile.
He gave the driver an address and sat back against the seat, smiling softly. I snuggled up against him and put my hand lightly between his thighs. As I listened to his quiet breathing, I wondered about the man.
In a few minutes we were parked before an old apartment house in a run-down part of town. M. Cardon told me to wait and got out of the cab and ran up the stairs and disappeared inside. The driver and I sat waiting, silent, each involved in his own thoughts. I listened to the meter, liking its lulling, clock-like rhythm. The driver lit a cigarette and smoked it quickly, like a man in a hurry. After a while M. Cardon came back and got in the cab.
"We will be joined by-another party-shortly," he said. He took my hand and kissed it, and smiled at me. "A friend," he said by way of explanation. We waited some more, the three of us.
In another five minutes or so the apartment house door opened and a tall young girl walked down the steps to the waiting cab. She looked in the window and studied my face for a second, then smiled and opened the door and got in. The driver started the cab's engine, M. Cardon gave another address, and the cab pulled away from the curb. The new girl was wearing an awful lot of perfume, cheap perfume, and I was angered by that and by this silly mystery. What was going on?
Our next destination turned out to be a hotel, an even seedier building in a part of Paris I'd never explored. Again M. Cardon told the driver to wait, and he went into the hotel. After a minute or two he came back out and opened the door and motioned the other girl and me out of the car. He paid the driver, and the cab drove off.
"This way, girls," he said, pointing at the doorway. We walked inside. An old woman behind the desk nodded at M. Cardon and then turned away. We walked up a flight of stairs, M. Cardon leading, and then down a long, poorly-lit hallway to a door at the end. M. Cardon opened the door and stood back to let the other girl and me enter.
It was what it looked like: a cheap hotel room, ideal for sudden lovers, ill-suited for anybody else. It was too expensive for the poor, too shabby for tourists. It was also, I thought, too cheap for M. Cardon, whom I knew to be very rich; but I figured that he was playing this game the way he wanted to. It was his game.
M. Cardon picked up the only chair in the room and set it down again firmly at the end of the bed. He took off his coat and laid it neatly across the top of the dresser, took off his shoes, rolled up his shirtsleeves. He sat down and nodded at the other girl and smiled at her, then at me.
"Jeannie, this is Yvonne," he said. The girl and I smiled coolly at one another.
"Yvonne, I want you to make love to Jeannie here," M. Cardon said flatly.
"NOl" I said loudly. I was pissed off as hell. "You don't have the right to-"
M. Cardon stood up and crossed the room in a second and slapped me hard across the cheek. "Don't you ever say no to me again," he said in a low, angry voice. "Never."
I looked at the floor and tried not to cry. I was mad now, furious, and frustrated: my tears were because of the frustration, not the pain.
M. Cardon glared at me for a second and then crossed the room again and sat down. "As I was saying," he said after giving me a look that made me shiver, "Yvonne, I want you to make love to Jeannie." Yvonne looked at me and smiled. Shit, I thought, a real lez. I forced myself to smile back at her. Make love to me-what would that mean? Eat me out? Suck my tits for a while? Oh, fuck, I thought, I could put up with that. But I had an uneasy feeling that that would not be ah, that M. Cardon and this weird chick had something else in mind for me.
Yvonne crossed the room and said, softly, "I will not hurt you, please do not hurt me." Her eyes implored me, begged me to agree. I realized then that she was terrified too-afraid of M. Cardon. What had he said to her, or done to her, to make her do this. Was he paying her? She looked like a whore, she smelled like one-maybe she was just being paid for this. Well, I wouldn't hurt her. I told her so, and she relaxed a little. A message had passed between us. We had, I felt, a sort of a pact against M. Cardon. Two against one, I thought....
"Begin," said M. Cardon sharply. His face was angry.
With trembling fingers Yvonne lifted the collar of my dress and undid the snap at the back of my neck. She leaned close and ran the zipper down, then pulled away a little and slid the dress off my arms. I watched her face as she went through the movements of undressing me. Her eyes were dark and veiled. She was beautiful. She was afraid.
I lowered my gaze to the floor and kept it there. I didn't want to look at M. Cardon, I wanted to try to pretend that he wasn't in the room. I tried to think of other things-of Michael, of the children, of my hometown back in America. But I was aware only of Yvonne, Yvonne and her searching, tentative fingers. Beautiful Yvonne....
My dress had been pulled free of my arms now, and it lay in a little heap around my feet. Yvonne undid the clasp at the back of my bra and pulled that free, too. My breasts ballooned out. I was conscious of their large size, of their beauty; I knew how they must look to Yvonne and to M. Cardon, (who knew them well already).
Now Yvonne's warm hands were pulling at my panties, pulling them down ... now lifting my feet and pulling off my shoes and pushing away the pile of my clothes. I was naked, vulnerable, and afraid. In spite of myself I looked at M. Cardon. On his face was a cold little smile, a look almost of indifference. He was gazing at my breasts, though, and feeling himself through his pants. I saw the large bulge of his erect penis through the fabric, and remembered the feel of his cock, and regretted for an instant that we were not in bed, just the two of us, without any of this weird shit. He must know I would do anything to him, anything for him, I thought. Why all this? I was mystified.
Yvonne had been wearing a sweater and skirt. The sweater was on the floor, and she was pulling down her skirt. Then she slid out of her panties. When she stood up again I saw her breasts, and in spite of myself couldn't keep my eyes off them. They were huge, really huge, and the nipples, already erect, looked like little fingers standing stiffly upright. Her breasts were lovely, milky-white, auburn-tipped, and they jiggled slightly as she moved. Yvonne saw me staring at her and smiled. Something in her eyes frightened me. She knew I was attracted to her.
Yvonne sat on the bed and motioned me towards her. "Come, friend," she said.
I forced myself to smile at her as I walked the three or four steps to the bed. I stood with my hands on my hips and smiled down at her. She stuck her tongue out of her mouth and ran it around her lips. "Sit here next to me," she said, patting the bed next to her. I turned and sat down. The bed creaked and the mattress sagged heavily. I wondered if the sheets were clean.
M. Cardon grunted, and I looked at him quickly. His hand was still on his crotch, and he squeezed himself lightly when he saw my glance. "Very good, Jeannie," he said, and laughed. I had no idea what he meant.
Yvonne turned to me now and slid her hands down my back, turning me in her direction a little. She put her face close to mine and bent forward and kissed me gently on the lips. I closed my eyes and lifted one hand and put it on her shoulder and pulled her gently. Shit, I thought, if I have to do this, I may as well enjoy myself.
We kissed lightly that first time, and then Yvonne pulled me closer so that our breasts touched, and we kissed again, this time exploring each other's mouth with our tongues. Yvonne's saliva was sweet-tasting and warm, and to my surprise I found myself liking kissing her. Her tongue was long and supple, and she ran it all around my mouth, over my teeth and up across my palate. I pushed against it with my tongue, forced it out of my mouth, and she pulled back into her mouth. Now I stuck my tongue out and ran it all around her lips. She closed her mouth and giggled. I forced my tongue between her lips and bit daintily at her lower Hp.
Behind me I heard M. Cardon laugh softly.
Yvonne opened her mouth again and sucked my tongue in and lightly chewed on it. She bit down gently and as I pulled my tongue out she scraped off my saHva and drank it down. I heard and felt the gulp of her swallowing. Then she lay down on the bed and pulled me down with her. I eased myself up onto an elbow and lay down on my side and leaned in close again and kissed her on the mouth. She opened her mouth wide and again I explored it with my tongue. My pussy was feeHng warm, and my nipples were now as erect as Yvonne's.
I had quite forgotten my anger, and with it most of my fear.
Yvonne put her arms around me and pulled me down onto her body so that my breasts were crushed against hers. I felt her nipples as they rolled firmly against my skin. They were warm and smooth and dry, and so were her breasts. I lifted my hands to them and cupped them lightly, gently testing their weight and size, their smooth softness. Yvonne lifted herself up a little then and I slid down easily onto the bed, on my back. As I continued gently massaging her big breasts she eased her mouth down onto one of my nipples, testing it with her warm tongue and pulling at it gently with her lips. She turned her head from side to side and I started moaning, not really aware that I was making any noise. My breathing was faster now, and so was Yvonne's. And so was M. Cardon's.
Yvonne licked and sucked and suckled one nipple and moved to the other. I kept my hands busy at her tits, cupping and tweaking and pinching and stroking, unable to get enough of the fabulous feel of her skin. Her breasts felt strange and familiar at the same time. I was used to her perfume now, too, and even started liking it a little. As she licked and sucked my breasts she moved her head, and her hair was in my nostrils. I loved it, the feel of it.
I kissed the top of her head and moaned, and she moaned, too. In a sense we were actors employed by M. Cardon. But in another sense we weren't acting at ah. I wondered if M. Cardon knew the difference, or cared.
My breasts were on fire now. I could stand it no more. I pulled Yvonne's head off me and turned her face and kissed her forehead. "No more," I said softly in English. I said it again in French, and she protested and tried to move her head back down my body. I was too quick for her: I slid down under her, and now it was my turn to explore her breasts.
I was enveloped in her, in her flesh and smell and taste and texture, in her sheer presence. Her breasts were all over my face, pressing against my eyes and my cheeks, my mouth and nose and forehead. I stuck out my tongue and touched the smooth soft skin of "her breasts. I explored with my lips the rounded contours and the beautiful gullies; I kissed her nipples and took them each in turn into my mouth. I pulled gently, then fiercely. I sucked as hard as I could, pulling her nipples way back into my mouth so that they tickled my throat. God, what tits she had! I discovered a little mole on one of her breasts and worried it with my tongue, loving it, loving the feel of her tits. She moaned and whimpered somewhere far above me, or it seemed far above me: and I felt the sounds she made as much as heard them. As I mouthed her tits I rubbed mine against her belly, down toward her cunt. She ran her hands up and down my back and around to my tits, which she squeezed and pulled and pinched lightly.
Slowly I became aware that Yvonne was moving. She was twisting out of my grasp and turning on the bed. I had to lift my head high and higher to continue sucking her tits, and then they were altogether out of my reach. I lifted up to see what was happening and my cheek slid against the smooth expanse of her thigh. She had turned so that we were in the 69 position; her beautiful pussy, covered with fine downy fuzz, was only inches from my face. I stared at it, fascinated. And as I looked I became aware that she was beginning to probe into my pussy. I arched my back and pushed my pelvis at her, wanting her to enter me, to stick her tongue into me, to bury her face in my cunt.
And she did, she did. Grabbing my hips and pulling, she lowered her face until her chin was probing hard between my soft and just-moistening cuntlips. I reached down and grabbed her head and pulled it back a little. She was hurting me, and I said so softly. She wrenched her head out of my grasp and buried it in my pussy again. This time the pain was definite, and I shouted out.
"Take it easy," I said in French. "Take it goddamned easy."
M. Cardon laughed loudly behind me-I had forgotten about him. Fuck him, I thought to myself. Yvonne was now bobbing her head around frantically in my pussy, and I couldn't keep my mind on two things at once. Besides, her pussy was only inches from my face. Her smell was overwhelming. Jesus, what a smell. It attracted and repulsed me at the same time.
I pulled at Yvonne's hair again and now she slowed a little. Still she bobbed her chin into me, but gently now, with less force. I felt her stick her tongue out and wash my outer lips, then in a little; then she probed in-now she was using her fingers, too-and tickled my clitoris, poked it, pulled at it a little. I was almost out of my head. I reached up and grabbed her ass and pulled it down hard, forcing her pussy apart with my hands as I did so, and opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue and started licking whatever I could reach. I was panting hot, full of lust and want and need. My pussy was on fire. I wanted to die, to kill, to burst. I buried my head in Yvonne's cunt, loving the smell and the taste and the warm wetness of it.
I stuck my tongue in as far as I could reach it.
I opened my mouth wide and sucked, sucked, sucked.
Her pussy was moist and I licked up the moisture and drank it down, loving and hating the taste of it, wanting more, getting more.
I sucked and lapped and swallowed and Yvonne did the same to me. She put a finger into my asshole and pushed in hard. I cried out and she closed her legs around my ears and I reached up and slapped her on the ass, slapped her hard, wanting to hurt her.
She pulled the finger out of my asshole and reached it down under my mouth and put it in her pussy and worked it around in there until it was wet with her creamy froth. I opened my mouth wide and she put her finger in it and I sucked her wetness off her finger, sucked her finger like a cock. Then she moved her hand and her finger was gone and I went back to her cunt with relish, loving and needing and wanting and yet hating the wet smelly place, the scratchy public hairs, the softness, above all the taste.
I turned my head in regular little circles and licked all around.
I parted the lips wide with my fingers and lapped in between, sucking down the drops of moisture my tongue elicited and drew into my mouth.
What I was doing in Yvonne's steamy pussy she was doing in mine. Jesus, she was incredible. She kept hammering away at my clitoris until I thought I would scream, until I thought I'd die. Her tongue was disciplined, trained, educated. She knew just what to do with it. As she licked she turned her head back and forth, back and forth, scraping her long hair against the inside of my thighs, rubbing her lips against my pussylips and pubes. She reached down there and grabbed my cunt in strongly-held folds and licked it all over and then released it. She rubbed hard at the space between my asshole and my pussy, rubbed and licked and spat and sucked.
We were both trembling now, on the verge of orgasm, climbing higher and higher and enjoying every second of the ascent. My tits were on fire. My nipples dug into her skin, and now and again she reached for my tits and rubbed and tweaked them, pulled at the hard nipples and mashed them down into the soft skin beneath and pulled them sharply up again. She ground her tits into me, rubbed them rhythmically back and forth against my sweaty skin. She slapped my ass and pulled the cheeks apart and ran her fingers down the crack, hurting me, pulling at the little hairs then until I cried out in pain. Then she rubbed my ass in gentle little circles, patting it and smoothing and kneading the skin until it glowed.
At one point Yvonne moved up a little and did something that surprised and delighted me: she cupped one of her breasts in her hands and poked it firmly against my pussy, running the nipple back and forth between my lips until it was wet with my cunt-juice. Then she lifted the nipple to her mouth and daintily, like a lady eating chocolate, licked off my juices. She let that tit go and picked up her other tit and did the same thing, rubbing the tip of it ah around my pussy until it was thoroughly wet, then licking off the moisture.
I laughed and grabbed one of my tits and imitated her. I held it gently and arched my shoulder back a little and rubbed the nipple all over her pussy, almost hurting myself in rubbing so hard. She reached down and sort of held her pussy open for me, and I poked the nipple between her soft, moist lips and moved it up and down across the wet pink surfaces of her inner pussylips. Then I bent my breast up towards my face and inclined my head and licked her fluids off my nipple. My whole breast was wet with the excess, wet and now a little sticky. Jesus, her cunt was wet, wetter than mine, wetter than Marie's. I loved the wetness, the taste of the moisture, the warm good feelings it gave me whatever part of me encountered it.
We were both thoroughly wet now, and a little tired, but I at least was still approaching climax. My whole body tingled. I kept feeling shivers and goose-bumps. Every time Yvonne diddled my clit I gasped, until gasping seemed the normal way to breathe. Her fluids were all over me. My hands were smelly with cuntjuice, smelly and sticky. My head was full of images of pussy: I saw pussies, smelled them, tasted them, licked them; I thought of nothing else.
I had quite forgotten about M. Cardon when he surprised me by reaching between us and pulling us roughly apart.
"Enough," he said in a high-pitched voice. I had never heard him like this. I pulled my hair out of my eyes and sat up and tried to find out what was happening. I saw M. Cardon's ass before anything else-naked, hairy, right in front of my face. I laughed as I stuck a finger between his cheeks and ran it down to his asshole. He clenched involuntarily and pulled away, and the he slapped my face again.
"Stop it, you bitch!" he said in an angry half-whisper. "Do only what I tell you to do."
I looked at Yvonne and we couldn't help laughing. I mean, it was funny. She and I both realized right then that we didn't need him. And I knew also that he needed us, that in some mysterious way he needed us there with him right then. And when somebody needs you, that puts you on top.
M. Cardon, however, had thoughts of his own. He was being quite nasty. His handsome face was contorted with anger, and his big cock jumped in time with his hands as he slapped Yvonne and me time and time again, on the cheeks and on the breasts and across the belly.
"You-will-be-still!" he kept saying, until at last we were. He quit hitting us then, but still scowled at us. He was kneeling between us on the bed; we were laying on either side of him. I covered my cunt demurely with my hands. Yvonne lifted one leg and put one hand on the bed, the other under her ass. We looked at M. Cardon attentively, ready now to do what he wanted. When he saw that we were looking at him he sat down slowly on his haunches. That cold grin was back on his face. At that instant I hated him.
"Now," he said. "Let that be a lesson. You must do what I want, and only what I want." He rubbed his hands back and forth on his thighs; his huge cock, stiff and red, stood straight up between them.
His legs were together, so his balls were out of sight. He was trembling slightly all over.
He parted his legs slightly and cupped his balls and his cock and rubbed them slowly, gently, and looked from Yvonne's face to mine and back again.
"Lick my cock," he said to Yvonne, simply and quietly. She hoisted herself up at once and bent down to his cock and held it between two fingers and poked the end of it into her mouth. He put his hands on top of her head and closed his eyes. For once the grin was gone off his face; instead he was smiling, really smiling. Yvonne lifted her hair out of her eyes and turned her face towards me a little.
Then she did a very funny thing: she winked. It was j all I could do to keep from laughing. She turned her head down again and went at his prick with studied diligence. She put one hand under his balls and lifted them slightly, and moved her head up and down rhythmically, regularly, from the top of his cock to the very base and back up again. The sounds her mouth was making were incredible: little sloshes and whistles and pucks and slimy-sounding pops. M. Cardon's big cock gleamed with her saliva. It looked most impressive, wet and big, its large blueish veins standing out clearly and the purplish tip out of sight for the moment in Yvonne's busy mouth. As she sucked M. Cardon began to rock back and forth a little. He moved his hands from the top of her head down to her chin and throat and then back up again. His big hands were gentle in their movements, even tender; I could hardly believe they were the hands of the man who'd been so nasty just a minute before.
Yvonne sucked for maybe five minutes before M. Cardon lifted her head off his cock. He opened his eyes and looked at her, just looked at her, for maybe a full minute. His cock jerked slightly of its own accord. It was wet and huge, and a little trickle of Yvonne's saliva had made a pool where his cock joined his scrotum. The hairs on his balls were wet.
M. Cardon looked at Yvonne for a long time and then suddenly turned his gaze onto me. I lowered my eyes, somehow ashamed. I felt guilty of some indefinable, unknown crime. I blushed.
"Now you will suck me," he said softly. His voice was commanding. I didn't need to be told a second time. I slid my body down the bed a little and lowered my head over his groin. I put my hand out and encircled his cock. It was wet and sticky and warm. I didn't like the idea of sucking it when it was wet with Yvonne's spit, but I knew better than to resist. I licked my lips and opened my mouth and took in the tip of his cock.
It wasn't so bad. The head was big and warm and sticky, and as I ran my tongue over it his cock jerked. For a second I was afraid he was coming-that he was going to shoot right then. I braced myself for the feeling of his hot come spurting out, but nothing happened. I slid my mouth down the shaft of his cock as far as it would go. The head of his big cock pressed firmly against the very back of my throat; I had to control myself in order not to gag.
When his cock was ah the way in my mouth I started sucking on it; before I had just run my lips over it, not really sucked. I sucked as hard as I could, sucked as if my life depended on it. I wasn't any longer worried about Yvonne's saliva, or about Yvonne, for that matter. Except for a certain warm feeling between my legs, I had forgotten about her. I devoted all my attentions to M. Cardon's big cock. I lifted my head, still sucking, and licked all around the head. I pressed the tip of my tongue against the cockslit. I slid my teeth gently over the little folds of skin just in front of the head, careful not to hurt him but giving him, I knew, immense pleasure. His cock trembled, then surged strongly, and again I braced myself for his coming. Nothing happened. His self-control was incredible, I thought. Yvonne had sucked him for at least five minutes, and he hadn't come. That was something in itself. And now he was resisting, if that was the word, sensations that must be overwhelming.
I ran my hands gently through the pubic hairs all around the base of his cock, then under the soft folds of skin beneath his balls. I lifted his balls gently, each in turn, and on my sucking downstrokes I pulled his balls up and ran them all around my chin. His balls were big and heavy and warm, almost hot; and as I played with them he parted his legs a little more, inviting me to explore more. I continued sucking, slowly now, sucking and gently exploring with my warm, wet tongue.
I ran my fingers under his balls and back down the cleft behind his balls to his asshole, which was slightly parted because of the way he was sitting on his haunches. Very gently I poked a fingertip in and pulled it right back out again. His whole body jerked, and I almost lost my mouthhold on his cock. Instantly I felt his hands on my head. It was, I realized, the first time he had touched me since I had started sucking him. He ran his hands now slowly ah over my neck and shoulders, and down over my sides to my breasts. He pressed the sides of my breasts and reached in and under a little more and went for my nipples, tweaking and rubbing them gently in the same slow rhythm with which I continued sucking at his big cock.
"Jeannie," he said, or rather murmured. "Yes, yes, this is right, this is good...."
Now I put two fingers under his ass, one from each direction, so to speak, and snaked them slowly under his balls to his asshole. I rubbed them slowly all over the area, pressing gently at the tight-drawn skin of his asshole until I gradually worked one finger in almost to the first knuckle. I started moving it back and forth slowly. The grip of his asshole on my finger was incredible. It was like a supertight little cunt. I loved it. I moved my finger around as much as I could, probing from inside for his prostate. When I found it his cock jumped, and grew, an inch. It almost disappeared down my throat. I pulled my finger back out of his asshole and started massaging his balls again, kneading them through their hairy skin, gently pulling at them, testing their weight.
And still I sucked, sucked, sucked. I ran my tongue all over the veins on the sides of his cock, all over the tip. I let my teeth graze gently against the soft, warm skin. I marveled at the strength of his beautiful cock, at the size of it, at its wonderful shape. I was quite lost in admiration of the thing when, surprising me, he put his hands roughly under my chin and pulled my head off him.
"Enough for now," he whispered softly. I tried to grab his cock with my hand but he caught me and pushed me away. I opened my eyes and looked over at Yvonne, who was gazing with huge eyes at M. Cardon's cock. She caught my glance, though, and looked into my eyes and smiled and pursed her lips slightly. We both wondered what was next.
M. Cardon unfolded his long legs from underneath him and sat down on the blanket. He stuck his legs straight out in front of him, between Yvonne and me. We were both sitting crosslegged, asking him silently for instructions. He looked at us both in turn, and smiled.
"Now it is my turn," he said softly. He motioned at Yvonne. "Turn around and get on your hands and knees. Put your ass high in the air, if you please." I almost laughed again-he sounded so formal, so unnatural. But I kept quiet. He turned to me. "You may watch. Nothing more. Do not touch."
"You sound like a guard in a museum," I said. I regretted saying it at once. He lifted his hand to hit me, and I cowered. He lowered his hand slowly to the bed, and smiled. "And be quiet," he said softly. I bowed my head, and when I looked again he had forgotten about me. He was on his hands and knees behind Yvonne, who, as instructed, was on her hands and knees with her ass high in the air. But instead of fucking her, as I thought he was going to, M. Cardon was nuzzling her pussy from behind with his face, licking and sucking. He kept his hands on the bed, and touched her only with his face and nose and mouth and tongue.
What he was doing pleased Yvonne no end, to judge by her face. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling her pleasure, and I wouldn't have been surprised to see her drool. M. Cardon kissed her cunt, then twisted his head this way and that and probed into her pussy with his nose. Then he pulled out sharply and kissed her ass, one cheek and then the other. And then stuck out his tongue and licked all around her asshole, her outer lips, and inside. From the noises she was starting to make-little soft groans and pants-he had made contact with her clit, too; he kept bobbing his head back and forth, in and out, fucking her, as it were, with his long, wet tongue.
Now he lifted up slightly and licked clear up the crack of her ass to the small of her back and back down again. Then he lifted one hand from the bed and cupped one of her tits in it, and started pulling at her breast and its nipple almost violently. She cried out in pain. He let go. He drew his head down again and pushed at her pussy with the top of his head, actually getting some of his hair into her snatch. Her breath was coming in ragged little bursts now, and it was clear to me that she was coming. Her beautiful ass was shiny with sweat, and a little trickle of her cunt-juice was running down the inside of one leg and onto the blanket. M.
Cardon kept licking and sucking, and now pressed his mouth hard against her pussy and started audibly sucking in her fluids. His cock bobbed vigorously of its own accord against his belly, three feet from her pussy. I wondered when he was going to do some actual fucking. I knew I was ready....
Suddenly M. Cardon pulled away from Yvonne's ass and reached over and grabbed me by the waist.
"Now you" he said breathlessly. He turned me so that I was facing away from him, and bent me down so that my ass was high in the air and I was supporting my weight on my elbows. Well, here it comes, I said to myself, expecting the feel of his mouth at my pussy. Instead I was astonished to feel not his mouth but his big cock down there. I moved my legs apart a little and he rubbed the big head of his cock all over the outside of my pussy, then pushed it gently between the wet lips and pushed it in just a little. I wriggled and moaned out my pleasure, inviting him to enter. I could hardly stand the suspense.
Finally he did. He leaned over my back and grabbed my tits in his hands and squeezed them, and at the same time pushed his cock easily, slowly, all the way home. My pussy took it like a compliment. God, how I loved the feel of him. My wet cunt folded itself around his cock happily, grabbed him and held on for dear life. And at last we began to fuck. I matched his movements carefully, easily, and as he pumped faster I started rocking on my knees, wanting to fuck faster but wanting also to draw out the beautiful pleasures as long as possible. In no time at all, really, I began to come, and I could hardly believe the feelings my coming gave me. My whole being was filled up with fucking, with cunts and cocks and come and the sweet beautiful wonderful pleasures of the fuck, the fuck....
M. Cardon came, too, and soon: his cock swelled incredibly and I felt these astonishing vibrations deep in his cock, and then his white-hot come was in me and we were fucking faster than shit, and then he was slowing down as I was pulling with ah the strength I could muster, pulling the sperm out of him, fucking him dry, empty, drained, and wasted. I fucked him until he pressed my thighs firmly, asking me firmly but silently to stop, to slack off, to let it be.
When I opened my eyes I remembered Yvonne and looked over to where she was sitting, cross-legged, her hand buried in her crotch and her legs wet with cunt-juices, and a little half-smile on her face. Her eyes were closed and she was diddling herself, to all appearances oblivious to M. Cardon and myself. I had thought she might be envious. After ah, M. Cardon had chosen to fuck me first. But if she was, I couldn't tell.
CHAPTER FIVE
Hours later, in another cab on the way home, M. Cardon asked me quietly what I thought of Yvonne. We had just left her off at her apartment.
"She's a nice-looking girl," I said cautiously. I felt I could hardly comment on her personality, under the circumstances.
"Yes...." said M. Cardon slowly. He looked out the window. The streets were wet and the street-lamps were just going out. It was dawn. He turned to look at me, and I couldn't read the expression on his face.
"Would you like to be with her again?" he asked. "I-I guess so."
"And maybe with some of my other friends?"
He was asking if I dug group sex. "Sure," I said, truthfully enough.
"You don't feel, er, degraded, my dear?"
I smiled at him. "Not at ah. Not at ah."
He patted my hand and then lifted it to his lips and kissed it. "Good," he said.
Boldly I asked: "Do you feel degraded?"
Before I could pull my hand away he twisted it and held it so hard I nearly cried.
"Don't forget our relationship, my dear," he said coldly. "You are servant. I am master. Do not take liberties with me."
He released my hand after a moment, and we rode the rest of the way home in silence. I was scared; I don't know what he was feeling.
I was supposed to tutor Anne that morning, but of course I stayed in bed until well after noon. I awoke to see her standing by the bed. She was calling my name softly, as if she wanted equally to wake me up and to let me sleep on.
"Good morning," I said, and smiled and stretched. "What time is it?"
"Almost two. I guess I don't have a lesson today, right?"
I laughed. "Guess not. Hand me that." I pointed at my robe, which was hanging on the back of the door. She brought it to me and I stepped out of bed. I was conscious of her stare: she was gazing at my breasts, and as I stood up fully she could hardly keep her eyes off my crotch. Enjoying teasing her, I ran my hands lightly down over my breasts and sides to my hips.
"Not bad for an old woman, eh?" I laughed.
Her lips were trembling. "You are ... very beautiful," she said. And with that she turned and ran out of the room, slamming the door after her.
Jesus Christ, I thought as I made my way to the bathroom. What a weird fucking family. Weird. I went into the bathroom and filled the tub with hot water and eased in slowly, loving the warm embrace of the water. I leaned against the still-cool porcelain and soaped myself slowly. I was still not altogether awake. I remembered the events of the night before as if they'd been a dream dreamed long ago....I remembered Yvonne and her cheap perfume, and M. Cardon's glazed expression as he sat pulling himself off, watching, watching....
And as I remembered I began playing with myself, rubbing my hand or maybe just a finger or two lightly ah over the outside of my pussy. I ran my fingers over my wet skin, over my wet pubic hairs, and closed my eyes and tried to conjure up the memory of Yvonne's lovely cunt, of her glistening glossy pubes ... I lifted one wet hand slowly to my chin and let it trail down lightly to my breasts....
I cupped my hand and lifted and pressed my breast, tweaked the nipple, spread my hand palm-flat again and coaxed my nipple erect with soft little pats and a gentle, rhythmic kneading ... I imagined that my hand was M. Cardon's hand instead, pretended that he was making love to me. I thought of his handsome face and his big cock, his firm, smooth, insistent hands....I pushed my hand between my pussy lips a little, just parting them, letting the warmth of the water soothe and relax me, caress me, explore me ... I extended a finger ever so slightly and with its moist tip traced in outline the soft inner folds of my pussy. I pretended that my finger was M. Cardon's big prick, and I turned my hand slightly and imagined that my curled fist was instead the weight of M. Cardon's ball-sac, bobbing gently against my flesh as his cock slowly, strongly, wetly headed home ... hit home ... fucked me....
I pushed my legs as wide apart as the tub's sides allowed and lifted my ass slightly. Both my hands were at my tits now, going around in circles, tracing there the phantom outlines of M. Cardon's hands ... my nipples hardened, and I rolled them gently between thumbs and forefingers, and then not so gently ... that's it, I told myself silently, yes, his touch is like this, firm, hard, masculine ... I stroked and kneaded and pulled at my tits, loving the feeling, feeling it up and down my spine, feeling it even in my wet, warm pussy ... I slid a hand down again and pushed it gently between my legs, slid it over the soft protruding lips, cupped the whole of my pussy and squeezed hard ... it hurt a little. I let go and explored further, snaking one finger and the merest tip of another lightly into my asshole ... buggery, never tried that, I realized briefly ... I stuck my thumb out and drove it slowly straight through the gap, slid it home like a cock, pushed it in as far as it would reach and rolled it around. My clitoris jumped as if it had been burned ... Jesus ... Jesus ... the feelings were delightful....
I made my thumb into a cock, my other hand into another cock, just for fun ... a cock in my pussy, a cock at my tits ... two cocks, double cocks ... that red-haired boy who was with Anne, his cock this, that one M. Cardon's generous cunt-twister ... yes ... and Anne, curious girl, those lovely tits ... so big for so young....
And without much trouble I imagined Anne's lovely tits under my hands, Anne's instead of mine, and lovingly caressed them, hers and mine, hers-mine, ours, in a sense ... tits, nipples: mine big, firm, polished-looking brown: hers softer, not quite so big, jauntily placed ... and Marie's too, oh yes, beautiful big-titted Marie, with whom in this tub I first learned the delights of women, of other women....
I thought again of M. Cardon, of his body, of the things he had done to me....I felt his kisses on my face, my breasts, down the smooth skin of my belly to my pussy ... his tongue there, his mouth, warm and wet and seeking, pulling out my essence, probing oh so softly between these lips....
Gently I pried my lips apart again, gently slid in a finger, conjuring M. Cardon's tongue this time ... oh Jesus, what he did to me with that tongue ... and Marie too ... sucking, slurping, poking and probing ... my pussy dripping with fluids, vibrating with excitement ... like this ... yes ... tongue-on-clitoris vibrations, mmmmm ... oh sweet Jesus....
I was really into it now, stroking my pussy into a soft lather and at the same time setting my tits into their own fluid motion....I kept thinking about bodies, about parts of bodies, about actions, bodies-to-bodies: of M. Cardon's cock, Yvonne's sweet pussy, Marie's incredible tits, young Anne's lovely body....I kept in mind the image of a cock, let it go, replaced it subconsciously with another image ... asses, tits, balls, pubic hair, fucking, sucking, stroking, licking ... the look and shape and color of a prick ... the taste of a cock, the feel of it in my mouth ... licking a scrotum, feeling the balls in their pouch, soft mysteries ... tits-their smooth, soft, firm contours .,. delightful soft/hard nipples ... rubbing my nose all over a tit, cupping a tit in my hands, pulling its beautiful hard nipple into my mouth, sucking, sucking, sucking and wishing to suck eternally ... asses, slapping asses, the feel of the crack, hairiness there ... little puckered assholes ... my own ... virgin territory, that ... unexplored territory (and I slid a hand down there and probed gently, rubbed my palm all over the area, delighting in the feel)......Michael, long-lost Michael my student-lover, learning love from me and teaching ... him the first to go down on me, late one night ... his strong, forceful tongue gouging me, hurting until I relaxed ... yes ... then, like a supermoist cock, penetrating me deep, finding my clit, exploring that ... I had gone out of my head ... same clit, he was here ... yes ,.. mmmmmn ... getting off nicely now ... wet, wet ... my pussy, my wet-pussy wetter than ever ... warm, wet, like a fuck ... the noises of fucking, oh those beautiful sounds ... like animals ... crotches with their own little voices, singing away ... God ... and the smells, bodies and sweat and come ... yeah ... salty-tasting, bleach-smelling come ... and cunt-juices: what a medley ... heavenly recipe ... fuck-cock smells ... loving in the oven ... fucking in the oven, oh yeah ... come-and-cuntjuice, slurp slurp ... big hard cocks ... little soft cunts, juicy big ones too ... lips, folds, recesses ... darkness ... oh M. Cardon, your goddamn cock is so huge I can ... oooh ... Marie .. what a cunt, a fishwife's cunt, elegant and rowdy ... toady ... Yvonne and Marie together, picture that ... tongues frantic in each other, tits shaking, nipple-bruising encounters on the bed ... my body a bed, my tits pillows, cradling M. Cardon's handsome head ... licking my tits, his mouth all over me, into my pussy ... juices, oh yeah, juices ... a whole tubful of goddamned juices ... sloshing, washing, drink ye these my juices ... cuntjuice, cockjuice, all the same ... delicious....
And now I was coming, coming like shit ... I opened my mouth to cry out, moaned instead ... my mouth an O ... cock-sucking O ... oh ... mmmn ... yes, that's right ... fuck me hand ... jack off, baby ... jack ... off ... hmmn ... slow down ... cock ... cunt ... tit ... ass ... fuck ... come, come ... cunt come ... cock come ... come-goddamned hand keep going, don't tire now ... fucking bathwater ah over the place ... what a cock ... in mouth, cunt, virginal asshole ... cocks in my mind, on my mind ... cock me, cock me, fuck me ... oh shit, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah ... coming ... coming ... oh yeah, cock hand, that's ... it....
After you've jacked off like that you feel sort of mellow ah over. It isn't quite like having fucked-nothing is, after ah-but it does tone you down some. You feel sleepy and, well, good. And jacking off in a hot bath really does the trick.
The first time I ever jacked off was in the tub. It was back in Topeka, Kansas, where I lived for a while when I was a young teenager. A boy who lived down the street came over one afternoon, and we started fooling around-just kissing at first, and then petting. Pretty soon he was begging me to fuck him, but I refused. I was, I think, terrified-the whole thing was just too new. He pulled his cock out of his pants-I had been feeling it rather tentatively through his trousers-he pulled his cock out and started moving it up and down very fast, holding it in his hand. At first I couldn't imagine what was happening. I was frightened. But he looked OK, and he kept playing with my tits, so I just sat there. Then he came, and I really freaked out. All this white stuff came out of the end of his penis, in long wet threads, and landed on the carpet and the side of the couch, and on my left. I was too scared to speak. He apologized all over the place, and cleaned up, and then since I didn't say anything he left.....
I sat there for a long time and then went into the bathroom and locked the door and sat on the John and cried. When I felt a little better I drew a hot bath and took off my clothes and got in. And then, once I was in the tub and relaxing a little, well, I got to thinking that if he could give himself that much enjoyment-for he had clearly enjoyed it, especially the moment when the spurting had started-if he could enjoy something like that, so could I. Since I didn't have a penis my vagina would have to do. I slid my hand down there and probed around gently, and then imitated as best I could his hand-movements: for up-and-down I substituted in-and-out. Soon a warm glow started, and the more I worked away down there the better it felt. My tits were feeling better than ever, too-and I wasn't even touching them. I kept it up, and eventually started what I now call orgasming. The rest is history....I still jack off, usually soon after fucking, always alone, often in the tub. That's why that big huge old tub at M. Cardon's so impressed me. Room to play!
Sometimes I wonder whether all my jacking off is "normal"-not a word I pay much respect to ordinarily. Still, a girl gets to wondering. It isn't the sort of thing you can bring up casually-
"Say, Anne, how often do you jack off?"
"Why Jeannie: I'm glad you asked...."-and I don't really know anybody weh enough to ask them deeply personal questions. Certainly I didn't know anybody that well in Paris, at any rate-except Michael, who was, for the moment, out of the picture. And he was a man.
What was in the picture was M. Cardon's peculiar sex-life. I got to thinking about it that afternoon, after I'd dressed and eaten a bite or two and given Charles his English lesson. I knew very little about the man. Marie was his lover, or, more likely, had been his lover. Now they slept in separate bedrooms. She called herself his "secretary"-but he never did any work at home, so far as I knew. In fact he wasn't even home all that much. When he was, he acted the father figure to the hilt. He demanded that the kids "respect" him-and they pretended to, at least. Anne I knew didn't actually respect him at ah. (Later, I was to find out why.)
So Marie was or had been his lover, and now I was, too, of course. And Yvonne had evidently been his lover too-or at least his often-frequented whore. And what about his wife, off in the South of France with another child and with lovers untold of her own? She was overdue for a visit. What would she be like?
And finally I wondered about the abortive trip to the gay bar. What had that been all about? Who could accuse M. Cardon of being homosexual?-and yet that young man had known him, I thought. In fact I was sure of it....
M. Cardon was a mystery. A beautiful, oversexed mystery. Well, I'd unravel him. Me and my cunt. He'd asked if I'd felt "depraved" after the incident with Yvonne. Ha! If only he'd known.
If only he knew.
CHAPTER SIX
M. Cardon and I became rather regular about our sex-which is not to say that our sex was itself "regular." But let me explain:
After the incident with Yvonne, M. Cardon began to relax a little around me. Gone were the tensed cheek-muscles and the elaborate coolness of manner-except, of course, when we were around the family, when I was supposed to be maid-and-tutor-nothing-more. But I am speaking of times late at night, times when we were alone together in my room or, rarely, his; times when we were lovers and enjoyed acting like lovers.
Typically I would retire to my room after supper, and would bathe or maybe just sit around and read or watch television. At about ten-thirty M. Cardon would knock on the door. He always knocked. I would ask him to come in. At this point I almost always felt a delightful flush-a warm, delicious sense of anticipation that started at my neck and ended in my cunt. I felt wanted and needed and, yes, loved, although I was reluctant to explore the latter, to look deeply into what being loved by such a man might mean.
M. Cardon would come in and I would stand up and he'd enfold me in his embrace, and we'd kiss. He'd force his mouth hard against mine and I would part my lips slightly and he'd slowly and firmly begin exploring my lips and mouth with his tongue. His hands would meanwhile be busy at my ass or under my breasts, or perhaps in undressing me, if I had not already gotten into my robe. (He kept bringing me fancy flimsy nightgowns and lingerie, but I stuck by my robe, a fact that amused him no end.) In no time at ah my tits would be warm, the nipples firm or nearly so; and as they rubbed against his dressing gown or chest they'd harden into spearpoints he loved to touch.
I would stand before him in proper subservience. I never made what could be cahed the first move. He did what he wanted to do, and I did what he wanted done to or for or with him. Sometimes he undressed me and, still dressed himself, walked slowly ah around me, studying my body, commenting on the beauty of my breasts, the loveliness of my thighs, the shape of my neck-anything. Then he might begin to undress himself, peeling his clothes off article by article, enjoying watching me watching him. His cock would be hard and long beneath his shorts, and he'd sometimes rub it slowly through the fabric, gazing at my naked breasts or at my buttocks as he did so. I would study his hairy chest, his well-muscled arms, his good-looking face, and wait expectantly for him to drop the last bit of covering so I could admire his big, thick cock, his heavy-hanging balls, or his trim and well-muscled ass.
Or sometimes he would order me to undress him. I'd do so slowly, enjoying the little game, drawing each gesture out to its utmost. Getting undressed is a very common, everyday thing-until you decide to make it something more. Then it can be sexier than hell. Sometimes I would pull M. Cardon's under-shorts down with my teeth, a little at a time, feeling as I did so the firmness of his cock as it bobbed lightly against my face. I enjoyed rubbing my cheeks against his hairy chest and sometimes all over his ass, and very lightly grazing my nose against the hairs between the cheeks of his ass.
Sometimes he pulled little surprises on me. Once I undressed him to discover, to my delight, an elaborate "French tickler" (which the French call "English schoolboys") on his cock. The thing was made of thin rubber with two little steel balls in the end. When, later, we fucked, the experience was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. I washed it out later and stashed it, rolled up in a pair of old panties, at the bottom of my suitcase. I still have it. I've let other men use it two or three times....
M. Cardon liked to rub the end of his penis on my body, so after getting undressed I'd often sit perfectly still on the edge of the bed while he walked all around me touching me here and there with the head of his cock, which he either held in his hand or, more often, let free. He'd poke it under my armpits or slide it down my upper arm or guide it lovingly all over my face, probing gently around my lips and over my eyelids and sometimes in the hair behind my ears. I must admit I rather liked ah this, although once in a while I became impatient and reached out and grabbed his cock and sucked it, or tried to, or beat him off. Or tried to.
At other times he stood straight as a ramrod in the middle of the room and commanded me to "show myself" to his cock. This involved my dancing, weaving, and twisting myself in tight little formations, bobbing this way and that with but one aim: to keep the end of his big cock touching my skin at ah times. Again-must I confess ah this?-again, I liked that, too....
At other times we were less passive, M. Cardon and I. Twice he ah but raped me. He threw me onto the bed and, well, started in-both times from the rear. The first time, I wasn't anywhere near ready for him, and it hurt like heh. The other time I had been aroused by something or other, and my cunt was already wet, and I enjoyed the experience immensely. (I love it from the rear any time I can get it that way-another thing M. Cardon taught me.) I fought him like the devil both times, though-I think he wanted me to. That must be half the fun of raping somebody, if it can be called fun at ah-being resisted.
Sometimes we never even fucked. Once I jacked him off just by rubbing my breasts all over his cock until he came. Then I licked his come off my body. A good number of times I blew him until he came. The most unusual of these was the time he was lying on his stomach on the bed, spread-eagled. I worked his cock around so that it protruded up from his legs from behind, coming up from under his balls-and although not much was exposed, I bent down and sucked what I could reach until he came. At the same time I kneaded his asshole with a knuckle or two, and fingered it a little, massaging his prostate in order to help things along so to speak., Of course we enjoyed the 69 position often-usually as a prelude to fucking, sometimes as an end in itself. I really love getting sucked out by a man who knows what his tongue can do to a woman, and M. Cardon knew. I don't think his tongue was any bigger or longer or anything than anybody else's, but he really knew what to do with it. He knew how to slip it down the inside of my pussy-lips so slowly I could hardly detect the movement-and then how to apply it suddenly and fiercely against my clitoris, mashing it down rhythmically until my thighs involuntarily closed around his neck or arms or whatever, and until I was groaning like a dying hag. He could lap my pussy-fluids like a machine with that tongue, suck and lap up all the juices faster than my body could manufacture them. And his tongue could be a sort of phantom prick in my pussy, something I could wrap myself around, something I could almost literally fuck.
But then everything we did was either fucking or, in its own way, as good as fucking. It never got old with M. Cardon. Once he came into the room bearing a big package. It was quite heavy. I asked what it was and he told me to open it. I opened it and nearly reeled over backward in surprise: he must have spent 50,000 francs on Danish pornography. We spent the whole goddamned night naked on the bed, fondling each other's genitals as we studied maybe two score magazines and a dozen illustrated books: the pictures were amazing. Big-titted women going down on one another. Two women licking one guy's cock, come ah over their faces. A guy fucking a girl in the ass-and another girl eating the girl's cunt out at the same time. Things I'd never dreamt of. I was fascinated by some of the male homosexual stuff-I had never seen guys doing it with each other before. And M. Cardon looked at the homosexual stuff with almost as much interest as at the regular stuff, a fact that didn't bother me at ah.
One of the magazines was apparently put out for the so-called S and M trade-you know, pictures of women all bound up in ropes, and of guys with whips and chains-that sort of shit. M. Cardon and I agreed we didn't go for that. I don't mind letting a guy think he's the boss once in a while-in fact I kind of get off on it myself-but enough's enough, and I know where to draw the line.
We sat there that night and jacked each other off for hours without either one of us coming-it was really strange. His cock was huge, and that lubrication stuff came out early, but he never came. Of course my hand was moving really slowly, as was his in my pussy. When at last we had looked through every single magazine and illustrated book, we turned to each other and laughed and then got down to business-but still just jacking each other off. I just kept moving my hand up and down, gazing at his hard cock all the while, until I felt it tremble and jerk, and then he started coming. I leaned over in a hurry and lapped up his come and drank it down, loving the feeling, the taste and the warm smooth texture of it. And even after he'd come he kept his hand busy in my now-frothy cunt, until I started orgasming, climaxing time after time. I had to pull his hand out when it got to be a bit much....
We did all sorts of things. One night he told me to lie down on the carpet and not to move until he told me to. I lay down, and he started licking me: licking me! He licked everything he could reach, and then he told me to turn over and he licked the whole goddamned other side of me. His tongue tickled, of course, and I was laughing like crazy, but I did as he asked and moved not one bit. Later on I did the same to him, or started to-I licked all over the place but kind of got hung up between his legs, and kept licking one spot just under his cock until, well, he came.
Oh, we did everything! We tried all the ways we could think of to fuck-from straight missionary to reverse dog-style. I think I like two positions best of all. The first was on my knees, bent forward almost to my shoulders, with the guy entering from behind and playing with my tits at the same time. In that position his big cock scrapes or anyway reaches the whole goddamned length of your cunt, and what's more rubs beautifully against your clit. Jesus....And the other position is with the guy sitting on the edge of the bed and the girl fucking him by sitting down on his cock, facing the same direction he's facing, again having his hands on her tits. What am I saying? My tits! I mean, I can only speak for myself....
But there's also a lot to be said for positions in which the guy can suck your tits while you fuck. M. Cardon liked those positions a lot, and I guess I did, too. He'd suck at my hard nipples and I'd pull on his cock with my cunt-muscles, and we'd come almost at the same moment, our timing got so good.
Sometimes he'd bugger me-yes, I finally tried it out. It's not too bad, although frankly I'd rather have the cock where it belongs, so to speak, in my juicy, frothy, lovely pink pussy! For one thing it hurts in the asshole, at least for a while, even if the guy is as gentle as M. Cardon tried to be. You'd be surprised how well you can feel a guy's cock with the muscles down there, though-I was. God, you can feel every little vein and ridge and bend and curve in his cock. You can practically memorize his penis after you've had it rammed hard and hot in your rear. The tip goes in slowly (it had better, or you've had it!), and you need a lot of lubrication at that point. The rest goes in a little quicker. If the guy has a big cock, like M. Cardon, he just has to take it slow, or he'd hurt like you've never been hurt before.
Sometimes M. Cardon and I fucked three or four times in one night, and quite often we fucked twice a night. The second time is always nice. We'd take it slow that second time. His cock had a different feel to it, too-even when it was hard and fully erect it felt somehow smoother and more supple. I'd suck it hard for maybe five minutes, really get it up, and lightly squeeze and fondle his balls, and then let him put it in. My pussy would always be more than ready. It would be kind of stretched out from the first fuck, and of course his come and my cunt-juice would have it thoroughly wet. On those second times you have to be careful, or the guy's cock will slosh out time and time again.
M. Cardon had one special fondness that I didn't much care for. He liked to fuck until' he almost came, and then pull it out and have me suck it until he did come. I could never adapt that quickly to the change. If I had already started my orgasms I really resented it, in fact. I said so, and he promised not to do it too often. And, to his credit, he didn't do it often. But when it happened it really left me unsettled.
Sometimes after we were through fucking he would he on me and suck my pussy-he on me, with his legs parted over my head so that his cock and balls were right in my face. This was not, needless to say, an accident on his part. I always went along with him and sucked his cock and licked his balls while he tongued out my pussy. I liked feeling the weight of him, and I liked the feeling of his scratchy hairy skin against my still-tender nipples.
We got to know each other's body so thoroughly that we could wake up in the middle of the night and have sex without thinking about it at all. Everything just sort of happened automatically. It was sometimes like fucking in a dream-but it was no dream, it was real. I'd half-wake up to find him busy sucking away at one of my tits, or eating out my pussy, and without giving the matter a second thought I'd suddenly have his hard and perhaps slightly sticky (from a previous fuck) cock in my mouth, or pressed between my sleep-warmed breasts, or slowly disappearing into my cunt. Sometimes I woke up in the middle of these episodes and wondered, briefly, where I was-until the familiar feel of his cock or lips reminded me. It was a delightful way to wake up.
In the mornings M. Cardon's cock was always hard, I guess from his dreams or because he had to pee or something. Often I'd wake up first and start sucking his cock, gently at first and then with more and more suction. Sometimes my sucking woke him up, but more often he just slept on. He never came, though, unless he woke up. And sometimes I'd straddle him or fit myself up against him and grasp his cock and guide its big head between my cunt-lips, and do a sort of solo fuck. It wasn't anywhere near as good as even a regular old two-bit fuck, but it was better than, say, smoking in bed.
M. Cardon was (and I hope still is) an incredibly healthy man. We fucked and sucked every night for months. I was having to nap for three or four hours every afternoon just to get through the day, but he never seemed tired. Maybe he slept at the office, although I doubt it. His sexual energy was boundless. His cock was amazing. My cunt was its equal, I think,-but just barely, and that only because I rather like sex myself.
It was not only sex between us. I had a lot of affection for M. Cardon, and he for me, too. We accepted one another. I knew what he wanted, and I thought I knew why. He felt much the same way about me. He never proposed. He never lied. Neither did I. In the privacy of my room we joked and regaled each other with stories and anecdotes, and sometimes we fought or argued. But I never forgot what in France I felt quite naturally to be my "place": although now, writing this in America, I wonder why I wasn't more assertive, more self-proud. He was a rich, married Parisian attorney, and a Roman Catholic, and a family man. I was a poor ne'er-do-well American girl, a sometime student. I was also beautiful, which I knew to be my main attraction. And because I knew that, I never had any regrets, or at least not many.
When M. Cardon's wife came for her long-awaited visit everything changed. But that's a whole new chapter, I think.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Living in the Cardon household was almost inexpressibly strange. I had been hired as a maid and tutor. But there was nothing for me to clean-ah that was taken care of by cleaning women, three of them, who came very early in the morning and went about their work quietly and efficiently-and the tutoring I did was no more than polishing the already very good English of my students. It soon occurred to me, and correctly, I think, that I had been hired as a sort of live-in whore-something between mistress and call-girl. The longer I lived in the household the stronger this feeling became. I decided that if I was going to be a whore, I was going to be a good one. I was being hired because I was a good piece of ass. I was kept on because I kept getting better.
The house was full of sex. It smelled of sex, reeked of it, literally and figuratively. M. Cardon and I went at it nearly every night, sometimes all night long. Marie had a succession of lovers, male and female, in her rooms ah the time. Anne's red-headed beau was neither her first nor her last. We ah looked at one another with erotic glances, suggestive looks, sexual meaning in everything. There was always a good deal of tension between Anne and her father: it was, I'm sure, basically a sexual tension. I have no way of knowing whether it was resolved or not, or, if so, how.
Marie's and my relationship was strangeness itself. After that first session in the tub together she presumed a sort of intimacy in our relationship that I wanted no part of. I liked her body-I liked it very well indeed, and she knew it-but I didn't feel at all attracted to her as a person. And yet I didn't want to hurt her or to offend her.
She was always making passes at me. Once she stole into my bedroom early in the morning and I woke up to find her petting and stroking my pussy. M. Cardon was off in Switzerland for a few days, and wasn't expected back until several days later, but when I first awoke I thought he'd come back early and was greeting me pleasantly if a little strangely. I spoke his name and reached down to caress his face with my fingertips-only to find Marie's head poised over my pussy, not M. Cardon's. I recoiled in surprise and distaste, and she felt my reaction and sat up slowly. I had offended her, certainly without meaning i to, and I felt badly. I sat up and put my arms around her shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Marie," I said softly. "I didn't know it was you."
She said nothing. Her shoulders were trembling slightly; I thought she might be crying. "Please," I said softly. "Please ... don't cry." She leaned her face against my breast and sniffled once or twice. It was an awkward moment. I ran my fingers through her long, soft hair, wondering what to say next. Before I could think of anything to say she covered my mouth with hers and forced my lips apart with her tongue. I pulled sharply away.
"No-no, Marie, I don't want that, not now, please...."
In reply she moved up on the bed, almost straddling me, and pushed me slowly back down onto the mattress. I realized then for the first time that she was naked. Her breath was hot and moist, and it stank of cigarettes. She reached up and cupped my chin between her hands and bent low and kissed me on the lips. I tried to resist again, but this time I wasn't convincing: she kissed me ah the harder. The sheet and blankets were pulled down below my knees, and she had pressed one of her knees firmly between my legs, pinning me where I was. The warmth of her knee felt good in my crotch, and in spite of myself I found myself liking ah this. But I decided to play my end of the game a while longer, and so reached up over her back and slapped her on the ass as hard as I could. My hand hurt like hell, and so, I guess, did her ass. She shouted right in my ear and grabbed one of my wrists and held it tightly against the bed.
"Don't you ever do that again," she said angrily. It was still too dark to see her face, but I imagine it must have been red and contorted. I lay perfectly still, breathing as hard as she was.
Marie let go of my wrist and slowly slid her hand up my arm to my breast. Her fingers were warm and supple, and her touch raised a little path of goose-bumps on my skin. In no time at all my nipples were firmly erect, standing up like little soldiers, surrendering my purpose and yielding themselves to Marie's conquering passion. There was now no way of pretending that I wasn't aroused. One touch of my nipples told Marie all she needed to know-all she wanted to know.
"I love you," she said promptly, seriously, soberly. French women are like that. They love anything, anytime, absolutely and unconditionally-but usually only for a day or two, rarely so long as a week. Marie was that way. She was honest in saying she loved me; I was right in being unimpressed.
But if I wasn't impressed by her words, I was more excited by her touch. She was all over me now, kissing my breasts, tonguing my nipples, rubbing her tits hard against the smooth warm skin of my belly. Her nipples, big and firm, dug into my skin. I slid my hands down over her shoulders and pressed the sides of her tits firmly, loving the firm sponginess and the delicate vibrancy of her big full breasts. She gyrated them left and right and then in circles, licking at my skin as she did so and moaning deep in her throat. As she pushed herself against me she began probing at my pussy again, running her hand softly over the tuft of hair at my crotch and letting her fingertips trail as if by accident into the soft and now-moistening little gully between my pussylips.
"I love you, I love you," she said over and over again, pulling her mouth off my tits to speak these words and then licking with her long, smooth wet tongue all over my tits, plucking my nipples between her lips and pulling them high, releasing them and mashing them into the soft flesh of my tits with her tongue or lips or chin. I was lying flat on the bed beneath her, and now I parted my legs and lifted my knees and she moved a hand in a twinkling and started stroking my pussy. Jesus, she had me frothy in no time at ah. She stroked and patted and petted and caressed my pussy until I was sure I'd come right then, independent of her or anybody, come until I died of the pleasure....She had two or three fingers down there now, or maybe her whole goddamned hand, and she was pulling cream out of me like a milkmaid in a mad dairy.
"God ... Marie, slow down....Jesus...." I moaned, hardly aware of who I was, or where, or what was happening. My mind was empty of everything save images of pleasure. It was like watching a dirty movie, a movie of cocks and cunts and tits and asses, of people fucking and sucking happily, mindlessly....My pussy was on fire, it was drowning, it was being washed and plundered and pinpricked ah at once, all in succession, ah together. Marie was as busy at my tits as she was in my twat, too: her head bobbed fast between my tits, gobbling now at my left and now at my right nipple, or perhaps licking a wide swath in the cleft between my tits. Her saliva dried slowly on my skin. Her hair was ah over the place, ah over my face and chest.
Marie pressed my clitoris time and time again, bringing me to the sobbing edge of orgasm. My pussy was pouring out fluids like a goddamned drainpipe, emptying itself or trying to, wetting her hand, letting her go faster and faster. At last when I really could stand it no more I pulled her hand out hard, and before she could get it back in there I turned on the bed underneath her and stuck my head firmly in her pussy. The smell was overpowering. What an incredible thing it is to smell like that!
Marie was a little surprised, but not at all unhappy at the sudden change. She laughed deep in her throat for a second and then plunged into my pussy with her lips and tongue, pushing twice as hard as her hand had pushed, getting nowhere near as deep, of course, but giving us both twice the pleasure in the attempt. A tongue can do things a prick can only dream about! A tongue can make a pussy sizzle, fly, laugh, bend double and touch its wet little toes ... Marie knew this, and her tongue did things to me I cannot really describe. It was like being double-fucked, if you know what I mean. This beautiful woman could do things with her tongue that made you feel you had never really had sex before ... her tongue was like butter, like oil, like warm rubber down there ... when she tongued and nipped and nibbled at my clit, I lifted myself so much I dislodged my head from her pussy and nearly groaned my lungs out....
I was learning, too: learning to do to her what she was doing to me. I pushed my tongue into her pussy sneakily, snaked it down the smooth, warm, fragrant sides of her pussy like a night-crawling rattler. I coiled my tongue and sprang with it, jumped it into her cunt, so to speak. God, what fun it was! Really, that's the word-fun! The taste, the feeling of her wet pubic hairs against my face, the slow wet ooze of her pussy-fluids as they eased out of her cunt and flowed down her thighs to the sheets, the incredible smell, and most of all the feeling of the place on my tongue. It almost sends your brain out of control. Your teeth chatter, your tongue stiffens like a red-hot cock, your saliva comes in little buckets. Wetness is ah around you when you're sucking pussy, the whole goddamned world is wet ... juice gets on your tits, dries a little, gets sticky, pastes your hair ah over the place....
Marie and I were really together now, licking and sucking at each other's snatch like starving babies. My hips were bouncing rhythmically on the bed now, bouncing of their own accord, and Marie was down there squeezing and kneading the flesh of my ass, really pressing, pulling with her hands as she dug home with her tongue and chin and teeth; she ran her tits back and forth in little circles against my body, moved her fingers down the crack of my ass to my asshole, poked in there a little ... and all of it was rhythmic. We were dancing, Marie and I-dancing on the bed, a very private dance only we could dance....
Finally her tongue had me orgasming, and deep shudders were passing ah through my body as I peaked and peaked again and again. As I came I sucked ah the harder, really going crazy in her pussy now, digging in with my chin, pulling with my tongue, lapping up her fluids and drinking them down in big gulps. I could hardly breathe. My hips were in an agony of movement. Her head was pressed so tightly into my body I felt it as a part of myself. My tits were ablaze with feeling: she was pulling at one of my nipples hard, nursing it between two fingers, relentlessly squeezing and kneading my soft, tender skin.
And now she was coming too-she was moaning somewhere far away, calling for me. I couldn't really hear her; my head was firmly between her legs, my lips and mouth and cheeks and tongue wholly involved with and in and all around her lovely sweet-smelling cunt, her wet pussy. Her lips were wetness itself, and between them was a canyon I licked at lovingly, longing to penetrate it, to immerse myself in the lake there, to stay forever in this wet hot steamy smelly place. Cunt ... the word was the thing, and I was a cunt, and my head was in a cunt, and my mind was full of cunt-thoughts, my mouth was stuffed full of cunt-stuff, my nostrils full of cunt-odor. Cuntjuice was in my ears, all over my hair, dripping and sliding down my chin, covering my breasts with its strange sticky cool wetness ... cunt....
Pretty soon Marie slowed her movements, and so did I, and after a while we just lay there panting, lovingly stroking one another now and again but mostly relaxing, coming off the heights. I started feeling a little foolish. I had lost my head. Jesus! But Marie was there, and I had just sucked the hell out of her, and she had done the same to me, and, well, it was real, and it had been good....
... and I fell asleep, holding her close, my face resting warmly on her breast, her nipple poking me gently in the ear, her breathing high-pitched but even. She was stroking my ass as I fell asleep; she was cupping it when I woke up again hours later.
So between Marie and me there was a sort of sexual tension. She had been M. Cardon's lover God knew how long, or how long ago; maybe she still was, although he spent all his nights with me now. She was beautiful, her body ripe, her face strong and good-featured, her movements graceful and self-possessed. I liked it when we came together on the bed or in the bathtub, but frankly I didn't like it at ah when she came on with that "I-love-you" shit. Why can't people be content with sex as sex? Why does "love" always have to be around, like a big old dong that won't go away? When Marie sometimes stopped me in the halls and whispered "I love you," I cringed. I wanted to hit her. I really did.
Once Marie threatened to blackmail me. We had quite a scene. It happened like this:
Early one summery day I had set off for a tour of a museum I'd never been to, the Gustave Moreau museum on Rou Rochefoucauld. I walked for almost an hour in getting there only to find the place closed. I was disappointed but still pretty cheerful; it was a beautiful day. On the way home I dawdled in front of shop windows and went into two or three bookstores. In one of them I was looking through an art book when I became aware of being stared at by a young man who was across the aisle and behind me. I turned slowly and looked at him: he was staring right at me. When I turned he blushed and nodded, but he didn't drop his gaze. He was young, about twenty-four, and blond and tall. He looked like a student. I smiled at him for the briefest second, and then turned back to my book. I was breathing fast now, and of course I had lost all interest in the book, but I nonetheless kept leafing through it, pretending an interest I no longer felt. In a moment, as I hoped he would, the young man came over and stood beside me. He reached for a book on a high shelf and in doing so touched my arm. I gasped and he apologized all over himself. It was really silly-we both knew what we wanted.
"I am so terribly sorry," he said in beautiful French. "Will you please forgive me?" Really-he talked like that.
"Of course," I said, dropping my eyes and affecting a very heavy American accent. When I want to I can speak French as if I had been born on the steps of Notre Dame. But I long ago noticed that Frenchmen are fascinated by American girls. They pretend, of course, to despise them-they pretend to despise all Americans. But nobody can get a Frenchman as horny as an American.
The young Man looked startled for a moment. Then he smiled? "Ah," he said. "American."
"How clever you are, to spot me like that," I laughed, speaking perfect French now. I was teasing him and enjoying myself no end.
He frowned.
"You are American, no?"
"Yes. I've been here for a while, though. I'm not a tourist."
"Oh no," he said very quickly. "I certainly didn't suspect you of being a tourist." In Paris among some people the word "tourist" is almost a curse.
I turned back to the book I'd been reading, or rather pretending to read, and turned a page. The young man looked over my shoulder at the book.
"Ah," he said, looking hard at the painting in the book. "An early Terriers." He was showing off his knowledge-or maybe just reading the caption.
"Are you interested in art?" I asked, turning and smiling at him.
"Oh, yes, it is my life," he said solemnly. He spread his big hands in front of him and kneaded them into fists and opened them again.
I smiled at him. "Bullshit," I said in English.
"What did you say?"
"I said 'bullshit.'"
He looked confused. "What is 'bullshit'?"
"An American artist. Very famous, everybody knows him," I said.
"Oh yes-I have heard of him. Very famous."
I laughed and took his arm. "Hey," I said softly. "Let's get out of here. Too much bullshit for me here."
An hour later we were undressing in front of my bed back at the Cardon house. I had learned that his name was Albert, that he was a student at a trade school, and that he was nineteen years old. He had learned that I worked for M. Cardon as a tutor to his children. And we had mutually learned that we turned each other on.
We got undressed in no time at ah and jumped onto the bed. Albert's big cock poked impressively out in front of him. I laughed and bent down and kissed the base of it, just over his balls, and pressed it lightly against my cheek.
"Quite an artist you have here," I said softly, laughing. Albert laughed, too, and I felt his laugh through his balls and in his cock. I sat up again and he leaned forward, pressing me down with the weight of his body. I put my arms around his neck and pulled his head close and we kissed lightly on the lips. He slid his body up onto mine a little more, so that his cock pressed hard into the pubic hairs just over my pussy, and his balls pressed almost between my pussy-lips. We kissed again and his cock jumped almost an inch.
"Take it easy," I whispered in French. "We have ah the time in the world." I have found that Frenchmen almost invariably approach women, the first time, like rapists-as if they are determined to prove their manhood by showing you their speed. I never liked it, and I didn't like it this time. I decided to make this young man slow down. I grabbed his cock and squeezed it as hard as I could.
"Ah!" he said, twisting his body up and away. "Take it easy!"
"That's what I've been telling you," I said. "Take it easy."
He smiled. "O.K.," he said softly, getting my meaning and seeing something of my determination. "I'll take it easy."
From then on it was delightful. We kissed again, long and slow, and I stuck my tongue into his mouth and ran it lightly along the edge of his tongue. He drew my tongue into his mouth, sucked on it, drew a little of my saliva into his mouth, and swallowed it. As we kissed he began stroking and massaging my breasts. My nipples were already erect, but they straightened up even more under his firm, warm fingers.
"Your breasts are beautiful, the most beautiful I've ever seen," Albert said softly. I knew I was being fed a line, but I liked it. I mean, what the hell....
He pulled at my nipples, rolled them between his fingers, pushed them softly into the pliant flesh of my breasts. And he was right-my breasts are beautiful. Almost every man I've ever been with says so over and over again. They're large and the nipples are, I'm told, exceptionally good-sized. Men enjoy sucking on them. (I do too, once in a while, while jacking off.)
While Albert massaged my nipples I started playing with his cock. He was really pretty big. I put my hand around his cock very loosely, just barely touching it here and there, moving my hand up and down slowly as if I were jacking him off but really hardly touching him at all. He groaned and pressed his pelvis up a little, forcing my hand down onto my belly and rubbing his cock against my open palm forcefully. I pulled it out, though, and put it on the underside of his cock, and pressed down gently. I slid my fingers down into the pubic hair that tufted up abundantly around his balls, and pulled at the warm skin of his scrotum with my fingertips. He turned under me and lay on the bed, and I slid nearly atop him.
Now he scooted down a little and started doing with his tongue and lips what he'd been doing with his fingers. He cupped one of my breasts in his hands and lifted it gently and tongued it ah around, pushing the tip of his wet tongue between his fingers and licking every inch of my tit. Then he went to the other breast and did the same. As he licked he gently squeezed my tits, squeezed and released, squeezed and released; when he squeezed my nipples stood out proudly, and the skin around them darkened a little. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the good feelings. My breasts were warm and the warmth was oozing slowly throughout my body, my whole being. My pussy was getting moist and I was feeling little chills down my spine.
After a minute or two Albert began working on my nipples, really sucking on them, pulling as hard as he could with lips and tongue and cheeks. His mouth made soft wet little sounds as he sucked, and the sounds were almost musical in my ears. A woman loves to have her breasts sucked, there's no two ways about it. It's an ancient thing, I guess-a biological thing. Whatever, it sure turns me on.
As he sucked my nipples, one and then the other in swift succession, I squeezed and kneaded and patted his balls and slid my palm up and down the firm warm length of his cock. His cock jerked wildly under my hand, and for a moment I wondered if this young man was going to be able to hold his come until I was ready for it. Then I decided it didn't matter-he was the type who was good for two rounds, maybe three. If he spilled it on the sheets the first time, well, I'd just wait a little for Round Two.
The day was warm and we were, too, and our sweaty bodies rolled easily against one another. I was positively wet and so was he. Now as he continued sucking my tits he caressed my neck and face and shoulders, drawing his fingers slowly through my hair and down over my bones, tracing patterns there that only his fingertips could discern. As he drew his fingers down over my lips I kissed them softly, loving their gentle touch, loving him. He smoothed the skin at my temples, cupped my chin, played gently with the soft skin of my ears. For a young man he was really quite an accomplished lover. Or he was an even better actor.
There was no acting on my part now, none whatsoever. I was hot and my cunt was foaming ready. That's what's so wonderful about long-drawn out fore-play: being ready for so long. Your pussy gets wet and starts pulling at phantom pricks. Your loins ache with need. Your ass twitches, your tits go crazy, and still nothing happens. You get hotter and hotter and hotter, and then when the guy does stick it in-well, it's heaven, that's all.
And now I was hotter and juicier than I had been in ages. I could hardly keep still. Deep in my throat these little moans and groans were forming; I was barely conscious of them. All I could think of was pussy and cock, my pussy and his cock, over and over again, like some kind of crazy litany. Pussy ... cock. Pussy ... cock. Pussy ... cock.
As I hoped he would he left off my tits after a while and, after giving me a quick kiss on the lips, turned on the bed so that we were in the 69 position. I opened my eyes and looked at his cock, which was now so close to my face it was almost bobbing against my nose. For no reason at ah I smiled at his cock. I wanted to greet it, to say hi to it, to wish it well. Beautiful cock, I thought, come here, lover; and I reached up and touched it gently just below the big swollen purplish head, touched it and watched it bob and weave gently in front of me. I studied it closely, memorizing what I saw-the veins, the bulges, the color and texture and damp smoothness of the skin. His cock was ivory and blue and blushing pink all at once. It was at least six inches long, maybe more, and as I held it gently it pulsed and jumped in my hand, anxious for me to mouth it, suck it, envelop it.
As I watched these little movements of his cock and prepared to wash it with my tongue and take it between my lips, Albert began administering loving little pats and kisses to my pussy. He was as fascinated with my gully as I was with his prick. He was holding me firmly around the ass with one hand, and with the other he was holding the lips of my pussy gently apart. From time to time he bent his head a little and formed his mouth into a little o and blew a warm gust of air right into my snatch. It tickled incredibly, and I laughed so hard I almost lost my hold on his cock. He'd bend his head even lower and put the tip of his nose between my moist pussy-lips and drag it slowly, slowly down so that his nose was buried in my twat. Then he'd inhale deeply and lift his head and blow his breath out again. I loved it, I loved every second of it. He put his chin between my lips down there and pushed it hard into me a little, almost hurting me. He put the tip of one warm, gentle finger in there and slid it easily around my wet pathway, going a little deeper, making circles, causing me to give forth more juices, more, still more. Jesus, we were tantalizing each other. This was only our first time together, and we had already worked out quite a ritual.
I took his big cock between two fingers and inclined the head toward my mouth. I ran the big tender head of the thing gently down the bridge of my nose and pushed it over to touch one nostril, then the other. The thing was incredibly warm and delightfully smooth. With my fingers I now touched the head to my upper lip. I breathed in and then exhaled gently onto the head of his cock, just onto the cockslit. It jumped half an inch, bouncing gently against my lips and chin. I parted my lips slightly and stuck out my tongue and almost stealthily touched the barest tip of it to the skin of his penis. I stuck my tongue out a little more and now mashed it firmly against his hot skin; I pulled at the same time with my fingers. His balls rolled in their sac The smell was wonderful, tangy and sweet....
Albert was tonguing my pussy gently, rhythmically, skillfully. As he tongued he kneaded and pulled at the cheeks of my ass, pulling me hard against his face as he did so. My legs were parted a little, and his face was buried between them. By moving my thighs back and forth and pressing them together a little I could rub his ears against the skin at the inside of my thighs. He twisted and turned his head every which way, forcing his tongue deep into me, deeper, deeper ... now his tongue was near my clitoris, nearer still, now almost on it ... yes ... he found it, yes, yes, and now pulled away ... I lifted my hips, trying to press my clit against his tongue, again, but now he was licking higher up, licking the outside of my pussy, lapping up the fluids he'd brought forth, lapping them up, drinking them down. And then starting back for more, going back, using his big wet hot tongue like a second cock, getting me ready, licking me, licking and sucking....
Now my mouth was fully open and I was sucking for all I was worth. His cock slid in, I pulled back, it slid in again. I sucked, sucked and tongued. I turned my head to one side a little and as gently as I could nipped the tender skin along the side of his big cock. His body jerked with every movement of my mouth. He groaned now-we were both groaning, for that matter-and I felt his groaning at the back of my throat and under my chin, which was pressed down into the smooth skin of his belly. I pressed his balls with my probing, searching fingertips ... ran my fingers through his thick curly pubic hair ... explored with tentative forays the mysterious region between his balls and his asshole. I snuck a finger around and pushed and probed his asshole, making his cock jump and quiver. The smooth bulbous head of his big prick was now firmly against the back of my throat, and from time to time I was afraid I'd gag on it. But I pulled back in time, moved back up to the tip, licked and sucked that. I was now making noises like crazy, funny noises, wet noises; and so was he, far away down below me, in me, with me....
Now my legs were almost completely open, spread wide, and his head was like a fantastic superhuge cock, poised over my crotch and darting in fast and frantic. His tongue was quivering with excitement His face was wet with my juices and with his own saliva, and he kept rubbing his wet chin all over my crotch, hurting me a little. He sucked and lapped and licked, forced his fingers into my pussy and pushed them in until I bent almost double and begged him to take them out. He was all over the place. My tits were squeezed hard between our bodies, and from time to time he put a damp hand on my belly and slid it quickly up to one breast or the other. He gave it a quick squeeze, maybe kneaded the nipple a little, then snaked his hand back down into my pussy. He had two hands in there once in a while, and if he'd had two more hands all four would have been in there, playing and splashing in the foam, in my foam, in my lovely precious goddamned juices....
Jesus, we were sucking each other to oblivion now. I couldn't get enough of his big hot cock, and evidently he felt the same way about my wet and now very fragrant pussy. I was sucking him so hard my cheeks hurt. His cock was even bigger now than it had been earlier, swollen, ready to burst. The veins stood out like thick ropes. My pussy was crying with need, grasping at Albert's tongue, milking it as if it were a cock. We were ready to fuck, ready and then some, and so anxious to do it we hardly knew where to begin.
At last Albert pulled his face away from my pussy and sat up, breathing deeply. I kept my head on his cock and he reached down for my tits and covered them with his hands and kneaded and squeezed. Then I got on my back and Albert leaned over me and I parted my legs and he got between them. The good old missionary position, I remarked to myself. And what a mission, what an e-mission ... christ what a cock, yeah, slip it in, I am open, yeah, there, up a little, I have you, I have it, now in, yes, yes-oh God, oooh, yeah, mmmn, mmmn, mmmmmn.
... I put my legs high over Albert's smooth, sweaty back, slid them down, joined my ankles behind and just above his bucking ass. I dig my ankles into his flesh, push down hard as I can ... he's breathing like a dynamo right in my ear, biting my ear, hurting me ... I scrape my nails hard into the skin of his back in return, wanting to hurt him, wanting blood, his blood ... my cunt can hardly stand what is happening to it; it grabs his cock in astonishment, sucks it like a mouth, pulls, pushes it out ... my ass is crazy, I am jumping all over the goddamned place, wanting all of him, wanting to pull him in and chew him up and consume every inch of his goddamned prick, ah, yeah, beautiful god-DAMN prick ... oh ... yeah ... mmmn....
Albert's cock seems to have a mind of its own too. He fucks me slowly, drawing this out, making me suffer ... his cock swells up in me, it pushes and I push too and I think I'm going to bust ... the feeling is incredible, wonderful, it hurts and pleases both at the same time ... Jesus ... he lowers his head to suck my tits, does so but his goddamned cock slips out ... we rush to put it back in, me fumbling with my hands, him fumbling with his ... he grabs it, slips it in again ... yeah ... mmmn ... good ... good....
I want more, more than this, more than this way. I pull as hard as I can and then astonish him by twisting out from underneath him, dumping him on the bed. Before he can get his wits together I am atop him, straddling him, sitting down firmly on his big wet hard prick ... he relaxes slowly, figures out what's happening, lies down and lets me do it now, lets me fuck the shit out of him, yes, that's what I'm doing, I'm screwing him, screwing me, fucking the shit out of him ... his cock feels like maybe its mine, maybe we both have this one cock, maybe this pussy is his ... we're together ... fuck, fuck ... I slip and slide ... I rotate my hips, twisting myself like a reverse corkscrew on him ... I feel his big hot cock at my center, my core, coring me, fucking my heart ... my brain ... Jesus, I'm coming now ... oh yeah, sweet lovely pussy come-come, yeah, come-come....
I'm on this beautiful cock, this beautiful boy, this man, and coming and groaning and grunting, my pussy is in spasms, I feel like I'm rubber and I'm melting-and the boy is in heaven, oh yeah, look at him, his eyes are screwed shut and his hands are going insane on my tits, my lovely huge big-nippled tits, oh yeah, this is it, this is life (and maybe also death), yeah, Jesus ... I look at Albert's face and half-smile, I love him, I love this fucking him, fucking, fucking goddamnedweh-and then:
Flash! and I wonder what the hell is happening, still though I fuck, the boy is sitting up, I still have his cock, though, and I look to see what is happening, seating myself even better on his cock ... oh yeah this is lovely, mmn, but what was that....
Flash! there it is again, and now I look over and who should I see but Marie?
Marie!
What the hell is she doing here?
Flash! She's taking pictures. Pictures of me and Albert fucking, pictures maybe to show M. Cardon-
"Get out," I said, getting off the bed, leaving that beautiful about-to-come cock. "Get out! What are you doing here! Give me that camera!"
Marie laughed and danced easily out of my way. "Just a few little pictures," she said. "For my own collection. Such a beautiful ass you have, and your friend here-" she looked at Albert and winked-"he's beautiful, where'd you find him?"
I started towards her again. "Give me the camera, Marie," I said, trying to sound menacing. I held out my hand. I must have looked absolutely nuts-a naked broad, her hair all over the place, holding one hand outstretched like a claw. Marie started to laugh. I don't blame her.
Albert simply looked scared. He was sitting on his haunches on the bed. His cock was soft in his lap. His eyes were wide open, looking from Marie to me and back again. He clearly wished he were someplace else.
Marie held the camera behind her back as I advanced on her. Just as I reached out to grab her she ran past me and out the door. I started to run after her, then thought better of it-the kids were probably home, maybe in the kitchen. I slammed the door and let off a mighty oath.
"That fucking goddamned son-of-a-bitch father-fucking asshole," I said ah at once, in English. Then, in French, "fuck her! fuck her!" I sat on the bed and started to cry. Albert looked sick.
"Hey," he said softly. "Don't worry, I'll get the film." He kissed me and got off the bed and went over to his clothes and started pulling his pants on. I was miserable. Marie! Goddamn! What was she up to? I hated her. I wanted to kill her.
Just before Albert finished buttoning his shirt Marie opened the door and walked in, slamming it behind her. I just looked at her. I couldn't believe she'd actually had the nerve to come back.
She threw something at me, nearly hitting me. It was a roll of film, loose at one end. "That's for you," she said, contempt in her voice. "I am sorry. I thought you had a sense of humor." She put her hands on her hips and pouted. I noticed that she was watching Albert although she was supposed to be talking to me. She really was a little bitch. She was hot for Albert, and this was how she was going to get him. Well, we'd see about that.
"No problem, Marie," I said. I turned to Albert and smiled. "This is the cleaning girl," I said, and affected to smile at her. "You must forgive her-she's mentally retarded."
"Bitch!" shrieked Marie. "Retarded! Why, you fucking little whore-bitch!" She turned to Albert. "Don't believe her," she said angrily. "She's lying. I'm not retarded-do you think I look retarded?"
"Albert, ignore her," I said. "We get used to it around here."
Albert looked very troubled. "I-I think I have to go," he said slowly, looking from me to Marie and back again. He tried to smile, but couldn't quite muster it. "I hope I see you again," he said in my direction.
Now Marie looked unhappy. She grabbed his arm and pulled him nearly off his feet. "Don't go," she said. "I'm sorry." Now she sounded as though she meant it.
Albert pulled her hand away and tried to walk toward the door. Marie stopped him again, and this time tried to kiss him. Once again he pulled away. She whipped her blouse up over her head, dropped her bra to the floor, and undid her skirt-ah in a second or two. She took a step towards me and paused long enough to puh her panties down. Her nipples were erect, beautifully capping her large high breasts.
"Give us a chance," she said to Albert. It was a plea. He paused. His hand was on the doorknob; in his other hand he held his shoes and socks and what looked like his underpants. He was dressed in slacks and a shirt.
That pause was fatal. I was still pissed off at Marie, of course, but even more importantly I didn't want Albert to leave. If I had to share him to get him to stay, well, that's the way it would have to be.
"Don't go," I said softly, smoothing back my hair. I still must have looked like a wild woman.
"Please, don't go," echoed Marie.
Albert let go of the doorknob and lifted his eyebrows high and shook his head slowly back and forth. "This is crazy," he muttered. "Really too crazy."
We had him. "Yes, isn't it?" I laughed, giving Marie a fierce look. "We do this all the time. This-this is Marie. She's my, ah, friend."
"Marie. How do you do?"
"And this is Albert," I said. I felt ridiculous making introductions now, but I couldn't think of what else to do.
Marie broke the ice. She crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge and smiled up at Albert, who was still standing by the door, half debating whether to stay or flee.
"I will make it up to you, Albert," she said softly, putting her arms out and beckoning him. He gazed at her beautiful breasts and at the rich growth of hair between her white, firm thighs. I glanced at his crotch to see if he was hard again. He wasn't, not yet But he wasn't going to leave.
I walked over to the bed and sat down next to Marie. She smelled like a bottle of cologne. She was smiling. I forgot my anger toward her, and even felt nice about having her there right then. She was a weird chick, but, well, nice. And her body--
Her body was what brought Albert back, hers and mine together, I mean. He stood in front of us and sure enough, you could see his cock getting bigger right in his pants. Marie and I put on sort of a little show for him. I put one leg over hers and she slid a hand back and forth on my inner thigh, right next to my pussy. I was kind of sticky-remember, I had been fucking until just a few minutes before-and her fingers picked up some of my moisture. She raised her hand to her face and slowly, finger by finger, licked her hand clean. Then she put her arm around me and kind of nuzzled up against me. Together we looked at Albert, who was smiling and looking from her tits to mine and back again. The bulge in his pants was huge now.
I'll take him first," Marie said softly right in my ear. I don't think he heard.
"O.K.," I whispered. I wasn't mad any more. And I wondered what these two would do together.
Marie stretched her arms out again and Albert stepped between them and put his hands tentatively on her shoulders. She knew what he wanted. So did I-I had been doing it until half an hour ago. She quickly undid the snap at the waist of his trousers and pulled the zipper down, releasing his big cock. His pants fell halfway down of their own accord. His cock poked straight out in front of him, bending slightly to the right. Marie bent her head.
Her style was different from mine, much different.
I ordinarily started in slowly, savoring; the little nips and touches and those first few gentle licks on a guy's cock. Marie swallowed the whole damn thing in one mouthful, so to speak. Instantly his cock was all the way in her mouth, and her lips were pressed together in a tight oval up near his balls. Some of his pubic hair was in her mouth. She sucked-I saw her draw her cheeks in-and then he pulled out almost all the way. She looked up at his face, and so did I. His eyes were closed and he was smiling. Men like getting sucked, I guess. Well, shit-so do women.
Marie reached around his legs and hips and pulled him close, so that her tits were pressed hard against his inner thighs. Her nipples were firm and long. She was turned on. She sucked him greedily, noisily, and fast-much faster than I would have. Much faster than I had. He didn't seem to mind at all. His cock was a shining spear in her mouth-now you could see the smooth wet shank, now you couldn't. I thought she was going to suck him off all the way for sure. I wondered if she'd swallow his come.
He surprised us both, though, by pulling her head roughly away from his crotch and stepping to the right one step, so that he was in front of me. He opened his eyes; I looked up at him, and he smiled down at me.
"You now," he said simply.
I didn't need to be told twice. I stole a look at Marie as I ducked my head and opened my mouth. She was licking her lips, but if she was angry she was hiding it. She even smiled at me a little.
I opened my mouth all the way and he slid in, and I felt again the good warm feeling of his cock pressed hard against my palate and throat. He slid out slowly. I scraped his prick with my teeth, being careful not to hurt, just pressing down lightly. He jutted his pelvis hard up at me. I tried to ease off, but he held my head tight and I had no choice but to keep on sucking. Oh shit, I thought, here it comes-and I was right. He held my head tight and moved his pelvis back and forth rhythmically. Deep within his cock I felt these little tremors, slowly at first and then coming faster and faster. Almost before I knew what was happening my mouth was full of hot liquid and I had to swallow and then swallow again to keep from choking. I had to breathe through my nose; my nose seemed to be full of his pubic hairs, though, and for a second I was in a panic-I couldn't breathe. But then I relaxed and decided to enjoy it. I sucked for ah I was worth. I milked his balls with my hands. Still he kept shooting, sporadically now, filling my mouth and throat with his hot sharp-scented come. Come.
Come. I was full of it. It drained out the corners of my mouth, fell onto my tits. It was hot, smooth, wetter than wet. I liked it, I liked it very much.
After his cock was through spurting the stuff out he started to pull out of my mouth, but I wouldn't let him-I held onto his ass, pressing my fingers hard in the cleft between his cheeks, pulling him hard against my chin and cheek. I swallowed again and then slowly, lovingly washed his cock with my tongue-washed it with his come and with my saliva. He moaned and tried to pull away, but I held tight.
When at last I released him he stayed within me a bit longer before pulling out-long enough for me to feel his cock as it began to soften, to relax, to shrink. What a remarkable thing, I thought to myself. What a really remarkable thing!
Marie was watching wide-eyed the whole while. After Albert withdrew I looked over at her. She looked at my mouth, then at my tits, where some of his come had dropped, and then at my eyes. I couldn't read her expression. Was she jealous? Sickened? Horny?
I stood up, not looking at either of them, and went into the bathroom and spat into the sink and swished my mouth out with water and brushed my teeth. Then I peed and started back for the bedroom. I stopped halfway there and went back to the sink and picked up a brush and carefully brushed my hair. I didn't want to look anything less than my best by comparison with Marie. Then I went back into the bedroom.
Marie and Albert were together, as I knew they would be, on the bed. I hadn't foreseen quite how they'd be coupled, though. Albert was lying on his stomach with his head on his forearm. Marie was kneeling over his ass, raised up off him a couple of inches, supporting herself on the bed. She was giving him a backrub! Of all things! I could hardly believe my eyes. It looked so ... innocent.
I walked over to the bed and sat down beside Marie and watched her breasts as they moved in big loose circles. She was a strong girl and she knew what she was doing. She hammered at his back quite hard, then pushed his skin in little waves up and down his back. She ran her hands around in little circles, pressing with her knuckles hard enough so that his skin was white beneath her touch. She worked her way down bellow the small of his back to his ass. I had never seen anybody giving an ass massage before, but that was what she was doing. She plucked fiercely at the flesh of his slim cheeks, rubbed them, slapped them rhythmically. She dug a finger into his asshole and turned it this way and that; he moaned loudly but, to my surprise, lay still beneath her. He liked what she was doing, that was obvious. Their bodies glistened-hers from exertion, his with the sweat of the last hour's lovemaking.
At last she grew tired. She lifted herself off him and sat cross-legged on the bed beside him. I sat opposite her. I reached for my cigarettes and lit one, offering one to her. He said he wanted one, too, and sat up smiling between us. He was really quite nice-looking. I still wanted to fuck him. My pussy was still moist, and my tits were taut with sexual excitement. Yes, I stiff wanted him. For a second I felt angry at Marie again, then forgot about it. What the heh, I told myself. What the heh.
We smoked in silence, the three of us, sitting crosslegged. We could have been Indians at a ceremony. I liked it. I liked looking at the two of them. Marie's body I was more familiar with, but nonetheless I never got tired of looking at it. At her beautiful big-nippled tits. At her dense bush, her beautiful well-shaped ass, her lovely long, tapered legs. She was beautiful. Beautiful.
And so, in a way, was Albert. His cock was now only half-hard, but it was still impressive. His balls were large and now they hung heavily in his scrotum. His chest was nearly hairless, but it was well-developed. He was strong-looking and masculine. I couldn't see his ass now, of course, but I could remember it well enough-slim and trim and, compared with the tan above and below, shock white.
Three beautiful people. What they couldn't do!
We did all sorts of things that day and on into the evening and night. I got to fuck Albert-not once, but twice. Marie got him once in between. We sucked his cock some more. He sucked my tits, then Marie's, then tried to stuff one of mine and one of hers into his mouth at the same time. He licked my pussy, I licked Marie's, she licked his cock and then switched to my pussy. I licked her asshole. He licked mine. We told dirty stories. He jacked off for a little while, while we loudly talked about his cock, made up stories about it. Marie and I diddled one another while he jacked off, gazing at us from a few inches away. I really dug doing that-watching a guy watch you; diddling a girl at the same time; having her do the same to you. Wow!
At one point Marie fetched my fountain-pen from the desk and did some amazing things with it-to me, to herself, and to Albert. She stuck it two inches up his asshole until he begged her to take it out. She stuck it all the goddamned way up her pussy, then halfway into mine. She held it between her pussy-lips while I tried to pull it out with my cunt. We pretended to fuck each other with it for a little while, and Albert stood by, watching. Marie and I rubbed tits, rubbed asses, rubbed asses to tits, We licked each other out I took Albert's big cock between my tits and rubbed it until I was afraid he'd come again. Then Marie did the same. While he fucked her I got behind them and licked ah over his balls and ah around her ass, loving the taste and the smell, the movement, the noises. She let him stick his cock into her asshole and then she bent backwards so that I could lick out her pussy-pussy-that one was really something, although it didn't last very long because his cock really hurt her," she said.
Oh, we did ah sorts of things. We ah three took a bath together-this was just after Albert and I had fucked the first time. We could hardly fit in the tub, of course, but that was part of the fun. So was soaping one another. I took the soap and just sort of slid it everywhere, on me, on Marie, on Albert. Then he did the same, then Marie. We laughed and slid around like that for twenty minutes. It was really weird-you'd feel a tit over near your left knee, then a cock behind your neck, then a tit between your legs. Eventually the cock wound up between your legs and the end of the soapy tit was ah over your face. I got soap in my mouth, soap in my pussy, soap up my asshole. And of course we ah got soap in our eyes.
Albert was amazing. He came again and again that day, and could have come some more, I'm sure. He loved fucking, sucking," being sucked. He liked talking about it, too. Marie and I told him about the things we'd done together, and he wanted every last detail. He asked about M. Cardon. I was a little shy of talking about M. Cardon, but Marie wasn't. She described and told some of the things they'd done together. She told all his favorite little positions and tricks. She told things I'd never heard before about M. Cardon-about some parties the two of them had been to-about some orgies, rather: she told stories about his wife, and she described a collection of pornography she said he had upstairs somewhere.
I couldn't get enough that day-enough of Albert, enough of Marie, enough of just plain good old sex. My body was tingling all over all evening. I never knew when my tits were going to get sucked, when my ass would be pinched and kneaded or licked and rubbed. I tasted come and never got tired of it, pussy-juice and never got tired of that. I tasted my own fluids-on the end of Albert's beautiful cock, on the end of Marie's fingers, even on the end of my own tits. It was quite a day. Albert was quite a fellow. What a cock! Jesus....
Albert didn't leave until almost two o'clock the next morning. We'd all gotten cleaned up (more or less) at about midnight, and then stolen into the kitchen for something to eat. I felt guilty as hell about the kids. Anne could take care of herself, but Charles? Marie reassured me-he was staying with friends, she'd seen to that. I felt better.
We had a bite to eat and then Albert left. Before he left we made a date-for two days later, the day before M. Cardon was due back. He'd return at about eight o'clock in the evening, bringing, he said, a friend-a guy he was sure Marie and I would like.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Albert returned as promised, bringing in a tow a tall, dark-haired, almost unbelievably handsome young man named Constantin. Marie and I were ready for them. We'd sent both kids off to stay with friends for the day, and for that night and most of the next day, too. If the kids wondered what was coming off, they didn't say anything-much to my relief.
Earlier that day Marie and I discussed where to have our "party", as we called it. I favored using my room again. It was private and it had its own entrance. Nobody could hear us in there, so we could make nearly as much noise as we liked. The bed was rather small for four people, true, but it would do.
Marie disagreed. "I have an idea," she said. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. "Let's use Gabriel's room." For a moment I wondered who Gabriel might be-and then I remembered that that was M. Cardon's first name. I had never used, never thought to use it. And, now that I thought of it, I had never been in his bedroom, either.
I didn't like the idea. It was dangerous. Although M. Cardon-Gabriel-wasn't due back until late the next day, you never knew what might happen. He might return early. A guest might come, maybe M. Cardon's wife-no, it was dangerous. My room would have to do.
"Nonsense," Marie said. Her mind was made up. "Nothing will happen, silly-come on, let's go upstairs and look the place over. Wait till you see his bathroom-and maybe we can find his dirty books, you won't believe the collection he has." She ran out of the kitchen, where we'd been talking, and up the stairs. I followed her.
I've seen a little of it," I said breathlessly.
"You have?" Marie was astonished.
"Yeah-he brought a whole huge box of magazines and illustrated books to my room one night." I blushed. Marie and I had never really discussed what M. Cardon and I did together, or meant to one another. I didn't want to hurt her feelings.
"Go on," she said. We were standing on the landing at the top of the stairs now.
"Well," I said, "he brought me these things one night, and-well we looked at them, you know...."
"You looked at them."
"Yeah, and then we, you know...." I didn't want to continue. "Yes?"
"Then we imitated them." I put my hands up in a helpless gesture. I was embarrassed and flustered.
Marie looked at her hands a moment. I had the feeling she was about to cry. She turned away and walked down the hah, and I followed. She paused before a door at the end and looked at me sadly.
"Someday I'll explain-m tell you about Gabriel and me," she said softly. Her eyes were moist. I wanted to take her in my arms, hold her, protect her from whatever threatened her, whatever was frightening her now. But instead I just stood there, looking at the carpet and feeling foolish.
"Well!" she said after a minute, trying to be cheerful. "Let me show you the chamber...." She opened the door and stepped into the room. I was right behind her.
I could hardly believe my eyes. It was the biggest, most luxurious bedroom I'd ever seen. The bed dominated the room: it was a big circle, about eight feet across, covered with fur of some sort, or with something that looked like fur. The ceiling over the bed was mirrored. So was the wall behind it-which was about thirty-live feet wide.
"Pretty fancy, eh?" Marie asked.
"Yeah," I said. I nodded at a door in the mirrored wall. I hadn't seen it at first because it was mirrored, too.
"The bathroom. Wait until you see it, you won't believe your eyes."
We crossed the floor-which was covered with thick red carpeting on top of which were scattered small Oriental rugs-and Marie opened the door to the "bathroom" and we went in. It was like no bathroom I'd ever seen. One wall was glass, and behind it was a little courtyard full of plants. A couple of wrought-iron chairs were set out next to a small fountain: the fountain sculpture was of two girls embracing. Inside, where we stood, the floor was mosaic; it sloped down steeply on one side of us and became a sort of pool, or would, given some water. And water there was: the whole wall dripped with water; moreover, the whole wall was covered with tiny ferns and plants. "Jesus," I said softly.
Marie laughed and crossed the room. She opened a little trapdoor down near the floor and turned something. Instantly a steamy mist started filling the room, coming from little holes all over the floor.
"If s a Turkish bath, too," she said, laughing. She turned off the valve and turned on another; now hot water coursed out of a nearly invisible tap over the pool itself. You made the thing into a regular tub by plugging it somehow and turning on the hot water. The cold water was there already-dripping off the ferns. The place was fantastic.
"Where do you shit?" I asked.
"Oh. In here." Marie opened still another door. Here was another room, smaller, with a huge basin, a toilet, and a bidet. The basin was carved out of natural rock. All the walls in this room were mirrored except the one we'd just stepped through.
"I can't believe this place," I said as we walked back toward the bedroom. I wondered why M. Cardon had never brought me up here-why we had always used my bedroom, never his. I had thought that perhaps he was afraid of my passing through the "public" part of the house and being seen entering his bedroom by the kids. But unless I was mistaken, the little garden by the bathroom was right over my room: and I knew there was a ladder, built into the wall, from my little garden, straight up. I had never until now wondered where it went. Now I knew. It was a ladder to M. Cardon's garden.
Marie was opening closet doors down the length of one wall, showing me M. Cardon's wardrobe. "Look here-and here," she was saying. "This one is just for shoes. This one-look at these sweaters!"
"It's amazing," I agreed. "Just amazing."
Marie sank into a big, comfortable-looking leather chair in the corner opposite the bed. The chair was part of a grouping-two chairs, a desk, a beautiful polished wood table. The lamp on the desk looked like sterling silver. An ashtray was crystal, and so were four brandy snifters on a golden tray. M. Cardon, I now realized for the first time, was fabulously wealthy. His house was impressive, but not necessarily the home of an enormously rich man-not until you'd seen his bedroom, bathroom, and "study".
Marie looked preoccupied. She was supporting her chin on her fingers and frowning. I didn't want to interrupt her, so I decided to try out the bed. I walked over to it and sat down. It was a waterbed! A circular waterbed-no doubt custom-designed. I eased myself back onto it and lay down flat, enjoying the bouncy firmness of it. It was, I thought, like being bounced on somebody's lap as a small child. I wondered what it would be like to fuck on it.
The thing was so comfortable that I almost fell asleep. I was feeling drowsy, sleepy, relaxed anyhow. I came wide awake, though, when Marie crossed the room and stood next to the bed and started taking her clothes off. I sat up.
"Hey," I said quickly, "what are you doing? We aren't supposed to get this party going until Albert gets here."
She was all the way naked now, and she crawled onto the bed and kneeled next to me. "I want to love you," she said simply.
"Well, I'm not in the mood," I said briskly. I started to clamber off the bed, but she grabbed my arm and held it, restraining me.
"I said I want to love you," she said again, pouting.
"No," I said firmly. "Let go-let go of me."
"Please, I love you, I want to...."
"No! Now let-me-go!" I wrenched my arm free and slapped her hard across the face. It was the wrong thing to do: Marie was much stronger than I. She came at me with blood in her eyes. I got off the bed and started to run toward the doorway, but she was too quick: she grabbed me around my waist and held me tightly.
"Goddamn it, let me go, Marie," I said. I was breathing hard now. I clutched at her hands, trying to free myself.
"You let me love you," she said into my ear. "You let me love you."
"No! Now let me go, please-please!" I started to cry. It was horrible.
Marie's breath was warm and moist in my ear, and her tits were heaving; she was pressed up hard against my back. She started moving her hands up to my tits, and I froze. I didn't want to fight her-I was afraid of her-but I certainly didn't want to stand there and let her feel me up. I decided to pretend to go along with her. Very slowly, pushing her hand as I did so, I turned to face her. She put her hands on my ass and tried to kiss me.
"Hey," I said, lifting my face high to avoid hers. "Calm down, let's think things over."
"You go he on the bed, then think things over," Marie laughed. She was enjoying herself.
I tried to pry her hands off my ass and at the same time keep my face away from hers. She was still trying to kiss me. She tried kissing my neck until I dropped my chin, then tried kissing me on the lips until I raised my chin again, and so on. At last I got her hands off my ass and stepped back a little, holding her shoulders firmly. She was smiling at me, and her face was beautifully framed by her long hair. I remembered in an instant some of the things she and I had done together-I remembered especially how much I had enjoyed sucking her nipples and delving my tongue into her warm, moist pussy-and ah at once my resistance crumpled. I wanted her and she knew it-she knew it at once.
It took only a few seconds for me to get naked, too. She stood by giggling and goading me on. "Turn around, Jeannie," she said, and I did. "Oh! What a beautiful ass, I love it, just look at it!" In spite of myself I had to laugh.
"You've seen it before," I said as I turned back around.
"I love it, I love it," Marie squealed. "And your tits-my God, who has ever seen such tits?"
"I have. Yours." Now I was laughing, too, caught up in this silly game. "Your tits are immense, Marie. Really too big to be natural. Have you had, uh, silicone, my dear?"
Marie put her hands under her tits and cupped them, then lifted them high. "All mine," she said proudly. "Ah God-made."
Now I lifted my tits and squeezed them a little. "Mine, too," I said. "Only mine have been helped out by lots of men. And women."
"What do you mean?"
"You know, helped out. Like this"-and I lifted one of my nipples as high as I could, bent my head, and took the tip of it between my lips. I sucked on it for a second and then dropped my breast and smiled. "That's help."
"Oh, you need help, do you?" Marie smiled at me mischievously, and in a second she was standing right in front of me and gazing at my breasts. "Let me help," she said softly. "Let me help this one." She put her trembling fingers under my right breast and lifted it slightly. I closed my eyes and put my head back and bit my lower hp. What she wanted to do I wanted badly for her to do....
She put her arms around me and lowered her head and licked very gently all around my nipple. Very slowly, as if awakening, my nipple grew and stretched until it was fully firm, fully erect.
"I love you," she said, pulling away a little and catching her breath. I put my hands lightly on her shoulders and slid them slowly down her arms, then crossed down lightly over her smooth, warm chest to her breasts. My hands were shaking slightly as I cupped and kneaded her big pliant breasts. Her tits were huge but beautifully shaped. I felt them like a blind man examining an art object. Her nioples were already fully hard; I pulled them lightly, squeezed them and rolled them gently between my fingers.
As I explored her breasts she bent her head again to mine. She licked gently, warmly the smooth cleft between my tits, and she rubbed her head slowly back and forth between them. Her hair was silken soft against my skin, soft and fragrant. I bent my head slowly and kissed the top of her head. I thought, this is a woman! I'm making love to a woman, a woman who's making love to me ... a beautiful woman....
Marie moved her face slowly all over my breasts, now kissing me lightly, now tracing light patterns with the tip of her moist tongue; now rubbing her soft chin slowly ah over one breast, now sucking one of my nipples gently between her lips and pulling at it strongly with her cheeks. She rubbed my skin, chafed it, bathed it with her tongue. She worshipped my breasts, adored them, I thought....
Her head was in the way of exploring her breasts now, so I put my hands behind her and lowered them slowly down the smooth downy curve of her back to her ass. I pulled her close and kneaded and rubbed and slapped the cheeks of her ass, loving their firm resiliency. They bounced and quivered when I slapped them. I felt for the little shelves at the bottom of each cheek, where her ass became her thighs, and lifted there as hard as I could, straining her flesh, pulling at it hard. I released it and ran my fingers slowly and firmly down the hairy warm crack between her cheeks. God, what a trip it was, feeling her like that! And the whole while she kept her head at my tits. Now she blew little gusts of warm moist air all over my tits, drying her saliva, tickling me....She kissed my nipples noisily, like an old woman kissing a little baby....She stuck her tongue out and drew it slowly this way and that all over both my breasts.
I was all but hypnotized by her movements, and by the beautiful feelings that surrounded the both of us like an aura. I was hardly aware of what was happening when she straightened up and took .my arm and led me slowly over to the big furry bed. She sat down first and pulled me down to lie next to her. I lay on my stomach and she straddled me and sort of sat on my ass; I could feel the hairs of her bush right between the cheeks of my ass. They tickled a little, and I laughed. She leaned down so that her tits scraped my back, and she put her hands on either side of my neck and drew little lines there, playing with my ears, talking to me softly as she did so. Then she lay almost flat atop me, supporting her weight on her knees, and mashed her tits into the skin of my back. I felt her nipples like twin fingers, hard and warm, surrounded by the velvet softness of her breasts. I lay flat, utterly relaxed, while she danced these odd dances above and behind me....
She moved back a little and now she started rubbing her breasts firmly against my buttocks, digging them into my flesh, rubbing hard. As she did so she kneaded and massaged my sides, the sides of my breasts, the muscles of my upper arms. She stuck one of her tits firmly into my ass-crack and rubbed the nipple ah around my asshole. It tickled, and I laughed, and that goaded her on all the more.
"Do you like that, Jeannie?" she asked softly. I could hardly hear her.
"Mmm."
She lowered her head now and softly nipped my ass-cheeks with her teeth. She was careful not to hurt me, but I knew what she was doing-she was biting me. I felt her teeth and the wetness of her tongue ah over my ass, now on one cheek, now on the other, now in the space between. She grasped some of the little hairs between my cheeks and pulled them sharply upwards with her teeth, hurting me. I pushed my legs apart a little, exposing my pussy to her, and she lost no time in rubbing that, too, with her tits, first one and then the other. It occurred to me that she was carefully symmetrical about everything-first this cheek, then that one. Now this tit, then that one. And then right in between....
When she started shoving her big firm nipples against my pussy-lips I couldn't suppress a deep moan of pleasure. Jesus, what an odd feeling it was! How delightful! My pussy, already slightly moist, already anticipating what was to come, had never been stimulated like this. By cocks, sure; by fingers, many; by tongues, of course. But by a tit? a nipple? Never!
Marie was ah over my pussy now. I pushed my legs as far apart as I could and forced myself to keep lying on my belly. I wanted to turn over, to encompass her head between my strong white thighs, to fuck her head as if it were a goddamn cock ... but I forced myself to stay passive, to let her do what she wanted. This was her trip, I told myself-her trip.
And indeed it was. Marie was groaning and moaning, too, I guess from the good feelings my pussy was giving her. How she did it I really don't know, but she kept kind of stroking my pussy-lips with her nipples, stuffing her tits into the soft hairy flesh of my cunt. Now and then she drew a stiff nipple down a little, between my inner folds, and it was ah I could do to lie still. As she stroked me like that she started licking and biting my ass again, doing both things at the same time, turning me on incredibly. I'm not a Lesbian, not by any means, but I'd like to see the woman who could remain aloof from the sort of things Marie was doing to me. Especially if the other woman is as beautiful as Marie....
At last I could stand it no more. I just couldn't take it another instant. I rolled over onto my back and reached up and pulled Marie's head up, wanting and needing just to kiss her. She moved up on my body in one warm movement and, our tits pressing together, we kissed long and lovingly. She stuck her tongue out and drove it hard between my lips. I bit down on it gently and squeezed it between my teeth, and when she drew it out again my teeth scraped off her saliva and I drank it down greedily. She kissed my lips and chin and cheeks, and I smiled and turned my head back and forth, delighted, loving this. She laid her cheek against mine and I reached with my lips and found her earlobe and nipped it sharply with my teeth. I wanted to bite her, chew her, eat her....She laughed and turned her head sharply away, knocking her chin hard against mine, hurting us both, and we both laughed. Our tits rolled together merrily as we laughed, warm bouncing big tits, nipple-erect tits....
She kissed me hard on the mouth again and then slid around quickly and closed her thighs over my head and at the same time bobbed her head down into my crotch. I reached up and grabbed her thighs and pulled them apart a little and slid my fingers easily into her pussy. God, she had a huge and hairy cunt! And wet, too-I could smell the wetness before I felt it. I lifted my head and pushed my chin up so that it was sort of resting on the bottom of her warm, fragrant pussy. Well, I thought, here goes. I pushed my head down, sort of pinning her pussy against my throat, and stuck my tongue out and licked as big a swath as I could. All that hair! And was she ever wet! My chin was slippery with her juice and my tongue was full of it. I licked and tasted and swallowed and went back for more.
She was doing the same to me. She'd buried her chin in my cleft, and with firm, even, rhythmic strokes of her tongue she was bobbing closer and closer to my clitoris. She knew damned well where it was, so this was her way of teasing me, I thought ... now she had chin and tongue and for all I knew the goddamned tip of her nose in there, and she'd found my clitoris and was mashing it repeatedly with her tongue. ... I slid a finger into her wet pussy and wormed it back and forth slowly, coming closer to her clit with each stroke, hanging her on the same ropes of suspense she'd had me on ... it worked: she started bucking her ass like a donkey. I poked a fingernail against her clitoris and she moaned loudly. I felt her moan throughout my pussy, throughout my body. This was what it was ah about, I thought to myself ... this was it: sex: physical heaven....
We worked away at each other for at least half an hour. I came beautifully time and time again, but we stayed in that position until she was exhausted and I was beyond movement. Then we slept. I woke up with a start and wondered what time it was. It couldn't be anywhere near eight o'clock, could it? I wondered. I got off the bed and went into the bathroom, through the first room into the second, and sat on the John and peed. For good measure I used the bidet, too, though that's something I never got used to. I went back into M. Cardon's bedroom and got dressed, looking at Marie's sleeping body as I did so. She really was quite beautiful, I told myself. She was curled gently into a comfortable-looking position, her arms protecting her breasts, her thighs guarding her pussy, and she was smiling. To awaken her, once I had dressed, I kissed her smiling lips.
I don't know if anybody else has ever experienced it, but I have sometimes noticed a kind of coolness in my relationship with somebody I've just fucked (or otherwise had sex with) right afterwards. With men especially-if they don't just roll over and go to sleep, well, they might as well have. I find myself in soaring good spirits, happy as can be, content and fulfilled, and the guy who made me feel that way is nine times out of ten bored, or sleepy, or thoroughly preoccupied with a book or a crossword puzzle or some goddamned thing.
With Marie it was the same way. Shit, I felt good after all we did together. I climaxed, I slept a little, I felt wonderful. But Marie woke up as if out of a nightmare. She was unresponseive to anything I said. She went to the bathroom and came out again and dressed, all without a word. Well, fuck that shit, I told myself, and I went off downstairs to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee and enjoy a cigarette. She showed up there five minutes later. She said thanks when I gave her a cigarette but she was otherwise absolutely silent. She wasn't angry, she was just-well, quite. And when you're bubbly and talkative and the other person's quiet, he seems (she seemed, in this case), well, cold.
That's how it happened that by the time Albert and Constantin came over, at a little after eight that evening, Marie and I were hardly speaking to each other. A good deal of tension had somehow sprouted up between us, and neither one of us knew quite how to make it go back down again. I was resentful of her silence; I don't know what she was thinking. But the chill was there.
Albert, of course, sensed it at once. Even Constantin, his friend, seemed to feel it. Of course none of us mentioned it. When the doorbell rang Marie and I both rushed to the door. She opened it and motioned Albert and friend inside. Albert made rather formal introductions all around. I felt as shy as a ten-year-old. When I was introduced to Constantin it was ah I could do to raise my eyes to meet his-I wanted to fall through the floor.
Marie suggested drinks in the living room-which was called the "library," although ah the books were in another room elsewhere in the house-and we drank M. Cardon's good Scotch and Irish whiskies as if we all had a quota to meet. I was almost drunk on my feet by the time Marie offered to show our "guests" around. I wondered if I'd be able to make it upstairs to the bedroom, and then, once there, through ah the preliminaries to the fucking part. I knew I could fuck, though, no matter what....
Throughout the little tour of the house that Marie was conducting-it was to end up in M. Cardon's room, of course-she kept giving me these nasty looks. I couldn't imagine why. I was miserable. I wanted to leave the three of them and run off to my room and sleep.
Albert was very solicitous. He kept asking me questions-about the house, about M. Cardon, about myself. I answered as best I could, but he knew that something was wrong.
Finally the little tour came to M. Cardon's room. Marie threw open the door and we ah filed into the room. Constantin and Albert were impressed, of course-and even more impressed by the bathroom. I studied Constantin. He was remarkably handsome, but he looked, to my drunken eye, a little like a gigolo. Marie could have him, I told myself, hoping, of course, that she wanted him.
She did. She offered to show Constantin the toilet room, and Albert and I hung back. She closed the door, and Albert and I were alone.
"Are you ah right, Jeannie?" Albert asked at once.
I felt ready to cry, but I said, "Sure, just a little too much to drink."
He put his arms around me and pulled me close and kissed me lightly on the forehead.
"We don't have to stay, you know," he said softly. He lifted my chin and looked carefully into my eyes. "We don't have to stay here for...."
"For what?"
"For whatever will happen."
I forced myself to smile. "I want to stay," I said. I squeezed him. "Don't you"
After a pause Albert said "sure," and I started to take my clothes off.
When Marie and Constant came out into the bedroom five or ten minutes later Albert and I were both naked on the bed, and I felt a good deal better. In fact I felt great. Albert and I were lying close together, kissing softly, talking gently to one another, and I was pulling slowly on his big cock while he played tenderly with my tits. My pussy was moistening and my nipples were hardening.
Marie and Constantin had been busy with each other, too. She was stark naked and he was dressed only in a pair of undershorts-and he might as well have been naked, for his big cock poked out tremendously through the gap in the front of the shorts. His chest was hairy and his legs were long and strong-looking. His cock was magnificent. Yes, I felt much better about everything now....
Marie made a few obscene remarks about Albert's cock and then she and Constantin joined us on the bed. Constantin hung back a little, but Marie plunged right in. She lowered her head to Albert and me and kissed us both on the cheek. Then she laughed and sat back up again, and started bouncing on the waterbed.
Constantin stared at my tits and I glanced once or twice in the mirror at his prick. I was still pretty well involved with Albert, though-Albert had just slid down so that his mouth was just over my tits. I pressed his head to my breast and he started licking and sucking my nipples. I leaned back against the pillow and looked in the mirror at Constantin. He'd pulled his shorts off altogether, and now he put his hand on his cock and moved it slowly back and forth, jacking himself off or pretending to. He saw me looking at him and laughed.
Marie was right above me; in fact her tits were only inches from my face. She was playing with Albert's cock. I reached up and grabbed one of her big tits in both hands and squeezed it hard.
"Hey, you're hurting me," she complained.
"I want to be friends with you," I said, laughing. I gave her tit another squeeze.
"Friends! We're the best of friends!" she laughed deep in her throat and bent down and kissed me wetly on the mouth. Then she took her tit in her own hands and guided it quickly all over my face. I reached for it again and pulled it down and kissed it and licked at the nipple.
Constantin came over and Marie sat back up on her haunches, and now I grabbed for his cock. God, it was impressive. Albert kept sucking at my tits, and I reached down to hold his cock, too: only to find, to my considerable surprise, that Constantin was already holding onto it. This was a new wrinkle for me. I kind of liked the idea-Constantin and Albert, Albert and me, me and Marie, Marie and Constantin. Wow.
I stroked and pulled and squeezed Constantin's cock as if I had never had a cock in my hand before. At the same time I reached up and started in on Marie's tits again. What a difference! His hard, long, thick cock, hot in my hand, thick-veined and big-headed-and her milky-white tits, rounded and firm and brown-capped, and topped with firm little nipples delightful to touch. Marie moved around a little so that my head was kind of between her legs, and Constantin put his other hand just over my forehead, into her pussy. He was really digging what he was doing, and, I gathered, what I was doing to him. I lifted my head a little and looked in the mirror at Albert's crotch. Constantin's hand was still there, slowly moving up and down, and Albert's own hand was too-sort of riding on top of Constantin's big, hairy hand.
After a while Albert lifted his head off my tits and propped himself up on an elbow and smiled up at me and winked. I laughed and winked back. This was fun, I realized, and I knew that he thought so too. I wasn't in the least embarrassed about feeling Marie's tits in front of Albert. And he certainly didn't seem to be embarrassed about having his cock played with by Constantin. It was-well, fun.
On an impulse I sat up, and before anybody could figure out what I was doing I turned on the bed so that I could suck Constantin's cock. I caught him by surprise. I guess I surprised everybody else, too.
"Hey," said Marie, "that's mine."
"First come, first served," I said. I opened my mouth and grabbed Constantin's big cock and touched the purple tip of it to my lips. His cock jumped hah an inch, and he put a hand gently at the back of my neck. He wanted me to go down on him right then, but I held back, tantalizing him. I blew a little gust of air into the dark pubic-hair forest under his cock, and then stuck out my tongue and slid the end of it ah around his crotch-except his cock. I licked his thighs, his balls, his pubic hair, and up onto his belly a little. His cock jumped in the middle of it ah, waiting for me. When I finally got to it I turned my head sideways and put my lips around the breadth of his big cock and sucked hard, giving him a hickey.
"Unph," he said someplace far above. I straightened back around and licked the smooth underside of his cock from bottom to top. Then I made my lips into a little oval and took between them just the very topmost tip of his cock. I wondered for a second if I could get the whole of this big thing in my mouth, decided I could, and opened my mouth wide.
I slid over the big head of it, paused a second, and then took in as much as I could hold, so to speak. My nose was buried in his pubic hair, but I hadn't quite gotten the whole of the thing into my mouth. He lifted his pelvis a little and pushed. I gulped and almost choked; his prick was crammed against the back of my throat. Breathing hard through my nose, I slid back up, rubbing as I did so with my tongue. I dug it. I liked it. I wanted more, and did it again, and again, and again.
While I was sucking Constantin he sat up' straighter and I vaguely became aware that Marie was half-standing over me. Of course: Constantin was sucking her tits. I looked up out of the corner of my eye, wondering where Albert was, and saw only a foot-it was his foot, though, it had to be. From where it was positioned, I figured out, he must be behind Marie. Fucking her in the ass? Or anyway from behind? I couldn't tell, but I could picture it in my mind clearly enough. I saw, in my mind's eye, his big thick cock as it eased gently between her soft, moist lips ... or into her tight little asshole. I saw him holding himself, guiding it in, then releasing it and plunging home. All the way in, yes, that's what he'd be doing, fucking her....I pictured the thick cords on his cock, the fat broad head, as it rammed her juicy twat, lubricated by her juices....
And then I became aware that somebody was fucking around with my pussy, too. Really. I slid a hand down there and found somebody's hand. I was really curious as to whose it was, but the hell with it, I figured, it didn't really matter. It felt like a guy's hand. Albert's maybe. He was fucking Marie in the rear and playing with my twat at the same time. Playing wasn't the word-he was fighting my pussy. His hand-or whosoever-was going crazy in me, flicking me, pulling at my lips, digging relentlessly in with at least three fingers. I put both hands down there and pulled hard, pulling the hand out, and then pulled my head off Constantin's cock long enough to look and see whose hand I had. Constantin's! I should have known it. I looked up at his face and saw him grinning back down at me. O.K., I thought to myself, if that's the way he plays, well, m play that way too....
I bent my head down again and took his cock firmly into my mouth and sucked as hard as I could. At the same time I stuck one hand under his balls-mashing one of his balls against his thigh as I did so-and slid a finger up to his asshole. I straightened the finger and wormed it in there as hard as I could. His cock grew by at least an inch in my mouth, and now I really had to concentrate in order not to choke. Still I sucked. My other hand I kept down at my pussy, guarding it; it wasn't good enough, though, because Constantin slid right under it again and in no time at ah he had his whole goddamned fist down there, or at least it felt like it. I wanted to hurt him. I pushed hard against his balls until he pressed his legs close together and took his hand away from my pussy. Then I took my finger out of his asshole. "Peace, brother," I said, lifting my mouth off his cock. It was beautifully wet, strong and huge in front of me. I grabbed it with my hand.
I could hardly get hold of the goddamned thing. Constantin said something to Albert about Americans being ball-breakers, and Albert laughed. I wondered what he was up to. I looked in the mirror, and sure enough-he was fucking Marie from the back. I couldn't quite see his cock or her pussy, but I could see well enough the movements their bodies made, and I could see most of his bucking white ass. He was in good form.
Above my head Constantin was still going at Marie's tits. His long wet tongue was dancing all over her tits, in fact. His eyes were closed, and he looked as though he was having a very good time of it. And now his hand was back in my pussy, although he was being very much gender now. He had just one finger in there, and he poked it slowly, easily at my clitoris, stroking me rhythmically, lovingly, nicely....I eased down again and kissed his penis. It was a little sticky from my drying saliva, and some of my hair was stuck to it, but I didn't care. I opened my mouth wide and eased down over its big head and let my mind go blank as I felt again the delicious good feeling of sucking cock and of having my pussy rubbed ... and heard the sounds of fucking, sucking, licking, chewing....
After a while we changed positions-I really don't know how, certainly I didn't initiate any change: I was happy as a clam sucking on Constantin and letting myself be finger-fucked by him. But in a while Albert was down there with his tongue and lips and bristly beard, and I was getting very different feelings indeed. To comphcate things, Marie swung her big wet pussy up over my head, and I had to lie down just to keep from suffocating. Now I had a faceful of pussy instead of one of cock. Marie's pussy was positively frothy. Jesus, she was flooding! Her salty juices practically flowed into my mouth. I liked it, I liked it a lot. I just kept licking and swallowing, licking and swallowing. Sleepily, in a daze, I opened my eyes and looked around. Albert was bent over my twat, and his ass was high in the air. Marie was lying next to me; I was sucking her twat, rubbing the cheeks of her ass, and from time to time fondling her big sweaty tits. And Constantin? I could hardly believe my eyes: he was lying between Marie and Albert, sort of like I was, and he was sucking Albert's big cock! And Marie was sucking his! It was kind of weird, seeing his handsome face moving rapidly over Albert's cock. He was really into it, too. He was stroking and fondling Albert's balls at the same time with one hand; the other hand was under my ass, fingering my asshole while Albert licked my pussy into a steamy foaming goddamned pudding....
I lowered my head again and Marie turned a little so that my head was almost trapped under her. God, the smell was amazing ... twat smell, cunt smell, delightful, delicious ... I tasted her juice, smelled it. It was all over my face, it was running down my chest to my breasts. My hair was wet with it. The bed was wet with it-the furs. Oh dear, I thought, have to clean the furs before M. Cardon gets home....
We changed again after a while. Now Constantin and I fucked, and Albert and Marie sat like spectators, cheering us on. Constantin sat on the edge of the bed and I sat on him, facing him, screwed down tight onto his big cock. He put his big strong arms around me and pressed me close, mashing my tits against his hairy chest, and I swear I could hardly breathe-or cared to. I quickly realized that this fellow was no fag. I didn't care if he sucked cocks all night long, if he could fuck like this once a week he was a candidate for World's Finest Fucker....He did the most amazing things with his cock, things it's hard for me to describe-sort of squeezing it from inside somehow, expanding it and contracting it, making it get bigger and then a little smaller, and then just when my pussy got used to the smaller part it-the cock, I mean-it got bigger again, swollen ... I twisted and turned on his cock, taking it all in, bouncing up and down ... he bent his head, sucked my nipples, pulled then very nearly goddamned off my body ... oh, Christ what a fucker! ... I was going crazy on him, my pussy was an inferno ... Marie and Albert were jacking each other off, enjoying our performance ... I could hardly keep this up. I was going to die split open, impaled on this fantastic cock ... and then oh my Constantin started to come, shit he came a bucketful ... my pussy drank it all, pulled more, milked his big fucking goddamned cock like a bull-tit ... Marie bent low, I saw her smiling, she went right down there with her tongue and lapped it up, his come and my juice, just lapped it up, what dog would do that ... bitch ... oh....
I came then, came like a fucking goddess, and then slowly, weakly lifted myself off Constantin's still-hard cock. It was beautiful, I was beautiful, we all were....
A little later Constantin and I had our turn as spectators. Albert got behind Marie and did it to her dog-style, set her nearly off her goddamned heels in doing it ... his big cock moved like a fucking knife into her, in and out, in and out, and they moved their hips like wild animals in great pain....His balls flopped madly, it must have hurt like shit ... her tits were almost whirling under her. He kept stroking them, squeezing and kneading them, but every now and then he sort of lost balance and had to let go, and then I could hardly believe the way her tits moved ... both of them weatier than hell, wet with sweat, wet with sweat and come and juice....His eyes were closed, and his hips were moving automatically, it seemed, fucking her, scooping her, smashing up against her ass time and again, fast, faster ... she was moaning now, really getting it on, moaning deep....
I grabbed Constantin's cock and just sort of held it. We were both spellbound by the performance. His cock was only half-hard, but that was lively enough, by god, after what it had been through. I squeezed it gently, felt his big balls in their loose-hanging scrotum, smiled to myself as I remembered our fucking. And then I turned my attention back to Marie and Albert. She was coming now, really getting off on this beautiful fuck, and her head was arched back at an impossible angle, and her lips were parted and her face was saintly with pleasure. And soon Albert started coming, too (Constantin slid his hand into my pussy, started in on my tender clit now) and beautiful Albert practically knocked himself off the bed, he was screwing her so hard and fast. Just at the last second he pooped out, and I thought I'd faint. It was like watching a suspense film! He grabbed himself and she twisted and turned, and just in time he got himself back in that sloshy wet goddamned pussy, and she smiled and groaned deep in the back of her throat, and he was home and coming, coming, coming, and his hips were slowing down and he was giving it to her slowly, slowly, big strokes now, emptying himself.
Wow. Now Constantin's cock was hard again, and the evening was still young! li somebody had asked me that night who of all people I would least like to have walk into that bedroom, and if I had thought about it at ah, I would have answered: my mother. My second choice would have been just as easy: M. Cardon. But on that one I would have been severely disappointed.
Marie was the first to notice him. The four of us were lying side by side on the bed, Marie and I in the middle, the guys on either side of us. I was loosely holding onto Albert's now-soft cock. Constantin was telling us a story, I forgot about what, and we were listening and laughing. My eyes were closed.
Ah of a sudden I felt Marie stiffen next to me-as if she'd been shot or something. I opened my eyes to look at her. She was staring at the door, and she looked frightened to death. I looked at the door, too-and nearly died of fright.
It was M. Cardon. He was standing just inside the door. He looked ready to kill. He was carrying a suitcase in one hand, his hat in the other. He met my glance without smiling, without speaking, almost without moving. I sat up slowly, and now Albert and Constantin became aware that there was something the matter. Constantin looked horrified; Albert just jerked.
M. Cardon was the first to speak. "Get out," he said softly, almost without moving his lips.
Constantin jumped off the bed and almost ran into the bathroom, where his clothes were. He picked up his underpants on the way. Albert's clothes were next to the bed; he got into them quickly and quietly, looking at me from time to time. I wondered if I'd ever see him again.
I got off the bed and, without looking at M. Cardon, picked up my clothes and walked toward the door. He moved to one side, and-still without looking directly at him-I walked past him, and ran down the stairs to my room. I heard somebody coming down the stairs a few minutes later, and I ran through the kitchen and opened the hallway door just a crack to see who it was. Constantin and Albert were leaving; Constantin was speaking rapidly, and Albert was hustling him out the door. I wanted to say something to Albert-to apologize, perhaps make another "appointment"-but I didn't want to have Constantin there when I said it, so I stayed where I was and kept my trap shut.
I was worried about Marie. She was still upstairs with him. What was happening? Was he going to hit her-or me? For the first time I became afraid for my personal safety. Jesus. I wondered what to do. Should I flee? Leave and go try to find somebody-Michael maybe-who would put me up for the night? I had almost no money. My clothes were ah in my room-could I pack them and clear out before M. Cardon came down the stairs?
Then I started thinking. Ji he started hitting me, I'd scream-I'd scream so loud the neighbors would rush over, and somebody would call the police. I'd be safe.
But why would he hit me?
Because he was angry?
No. He would have hit me already, upstairs.
Suddenly I started to cry. I was miserable. There I was, naked and terrified, standing in the kitchen of a big strange house in a foreign country. I was afraid. I felt cheap and dirty and low. I wanted to die.
M. Cardon didn't visit me that night, nor the next, nor the night after that. The house was like a morgue. The kids came and went, and the place cheered up a little when they were home, but when they were at school or asleep, the place was frightening. Marie wouldn't look at me, much less speak to me. M. Cardon left early in the morning and came home only very late at night; I didn't see him at all, just heard him come and go. I was having trouble getting to sleep at night. I kept listening, waiting, wondering-would he come? Would he come?
Three days later, after thinking things over, I decided to leave. I would quit the next day. I was even feeling good about my decision. I had decided to try to get back to America. I'd wire my folks for the money-they had it to spare, it wouldn't hurt them to send a little my way. And I'd be sure to look up Michael first.
I undressed and got into the tub and started soaping myself. I was feeling pretty good-heh, I was downright happy! I forgot ah about Marie and M. Cardon, ah about the kids, ah about Albert and ah the rest.
Just as I was about to step out of the tub and reach for a towel I saw M. Cardon. He was standing in the doorway, just looking at me. His hands were in his pockets, and he was smoking a cigarette. I had no idea how long he'd been there. I jumped and then sat back down in the tub. I was breathing pretty fast, I remember, although I wasn't really afraid. More excited than afraid, I guess.
"Don't mind me, Jeannie," M. Cardon said. He walked into the bathroom and closed the lid of the toilet and sat on it.
"Will you hand me that towel, please?" I asked, pointing. He did. I started to get out of the tub and wrap myself in the towel when ah of a sudden he was ah over me, slapping me, hitting me, hurting me. I tried to get away. I put a foot out of the tub, meaning to run, but slipped on the tile floor, hurting my ankle and nearly cracking my head. M. Cardon had quit slapping me now, but he pulled me up by my arm and practically dragged me into the bedroom. He threw me onto the bed. I was too scared to speak-too scared to move, even.
"Now," he said, rubbing his hands together and breathing so hard his face was nearly purple. His teeth were practically grinding together, he was so angry. "Now," he repeated. I knew he was trying to calm himself. "You-you tell me, what was all that about?"
I looked at the floor and covered my pussy with my hands. I cleared my throat. "I-I'm sorry. It just happened."
He looked at me and I was sure he was going to hit me again, but he didn't. "Don't you ever do that again," he said slowly. "Do you understand me? Don't you ever do that again."
I started to cry. "I won't," I said softly. "Please believe me, I won't"
M. Cardon came over to the bed and for a second I thought he was going to cry, too. Instead he lay down next to me and cupped my face in his hands and told me softly over and over that he was sorry, that he hadn't meant to hit me, that it was all right....
And after a while we were making love, and it all seemed just too strange for words. It was almost like the good old times. He was between my legs again, and his hard cock was beautifully situated in my eager pussy, and the whole damned episode might never have happened.
We fucked slowly that night, drawing it out each of us wanting this fuck to last, to heal, to mean something. It was like doing penance, on my part. I was trying to say something to him while we fucked-trying to say something to him by fucking him the way I was fucking him. And I think he was doing much the same thing to me.
Oh, it was beautiful! So slow, so careful ... my pussy was a long time in getting ready for him, and he waited patiently, going in slowly, controlling himself ... when he knew that I was wet enough, that I was ready, he pushed in a little harder-just a little, though-and I pulled hard with my cunt-muscles ... he buried his head between my breasts and I folded my arms around him and pulled his head close, loving the feel of his hair, his ear, his face against my skin. My tits were soft and I wanted to give their softness to him, to present it. I slid my hands ah the way down his back and groped at his ass, pulled the cheeks apart, kneaded and gently rubbed them. We established a rhythm, a slow, easy gait that made this fuck something special, something different for both of us....
After a long, long time I could hardly control myself, and I started speeding up, wanting his cock deeper, wanting ah of it, ah it had to offer. My pussy was sloshing almost audibly now. I was hot, oh was I hot! I could hardly keep from sinking my teeth into his shoulder. I scraped my hands cruelly down his back, hardly knowing what I was doing, wanting to hurt and soothe him both at the same time. Relentlessly he fucked me, his cock was huge within me, hurting me, and I loved it, loved him for fucking me....
I began panting, panting and groaning ... fuck, fuck....His balls slapped regularly against the sweaty cheeks of my ass. I pulled hard with my pussy, wanting to devour him, hating him, hating his goddamned cock and his motherfucking balls ... I wanted to fuck the goddamned cock off this son of a bitch, and then in the next second I loved him utterly, loved his cock, loved it all ... Jesus ... I was losing my head, losing my body too....
His head was on my breast and he turned it and sank his face deep into the flesh of my breast. My nipple was on fire. He took it between his lips, sucked it, bit it gently. The hairs at the base of my spine stood up. The feeling was agony, it was too much, I couldn't take it any more ... he moved from one breast to the other, from one nipple to the other, and he bit me again, bit my tender skin....I slapped him as hard as I could across the back, wanting to hurt him, hating me ... he crushed his chin hard against my breastbone, hurting me. I could hardly breathe....
And still his hips bucked hard against me, still his big cock drove into me steadily, faster, hurting me, delighting me; he was forcing himself into and upon me....
And now, oh now I started coming....Jesus....It gave me a whole new cast to everything....I saw colors, felt colors, if you can imagine that ... my mind was full of reeling pictures, pictures once again of cocks and cunts and tits and asses, balls and thighs and faces, muscles, sweat ... I smelled him, smelled him come even before I felt the hot hard gush of his semen, before I felt my pussy turn liquid and oozing ... my god, I thought, my God ... and I pulled ah the harder, giving ah I could give, taking what he had....
Afterwards we lay together for a long, long time. His cock was still within me, softening, cooling. My pussy was cooling off, too. Our combined liquids oozed out of my pussy, covering his balls and my thighs and then the back of my legs and my ass. The bed was cold beneath my ass, and getting uncomfortable, but I stayed where I was. I was thinking of M. Cardon: remembering ah our times together: I was stih receiving him, if you'll forgive the ambiguity. He was in me, a part of me, wedged solidly in my pussy, my vagina, my most personal, most intimate depths ... he was foreign and yet identical. I knew his cock better than I knew my own palms, and yet I couldn't begin to fathom its mysteries.
Oh cock! Man! Man-cock! Who are you? Who am I? What is my pussy? What is this wet and squishy place, and what's this now-soft piece of flesh called "cock"? Why do I love it so, need it, want it and yet fight it, resist it, hate it? My pussy is a traitor, it deserts me in time of war and runs off with the enemy ... to fuck the enemy, enemy cock ... and I love it for that reason ... how confusing....
I was almost asleep now. I drew the blankets up over M. Cardon's back to his shoulders, and I turned my head to make myself as comfortable as possible. Within me, M. Cardon's cock moved-just a little, no more than a quiver, really. For some reason that little tiny movement made me smile broadly. I'm sure I fell asleep with that same warm smile on my face. I was thinking: a cock is like a smile....
CHAPTER NINE
Things were back on an even keel with M. Cardon, I thought. I was determined to stay faithful to him-even to the extent of staying away from Marie. I thought he loved me, and I was afraid that I was falling in love with him a little.
And for a week or two things were on an even keel. In fact they were better than ever. One night as M. Cardon and I lay in bed together I asked him two questions. First, I asked if I might call him Gabriel.
"Sure," he said. "Of course." He frowned. "What have you been calling me?"
"Well, I call you 'M. Cardon' when I'm talking about you, and when we're together-when we're together I guess I just call you 'you'." I used the informal French "tu".
"And what is your second request?" he asked gravely.
I was lying with my hand nestled in the crook of his elbow. We were, as always, on my bed. I hitched myself up a little and leaned close and kissed him warmly on the lips. Then I posed my question:
"Can we be together in your room some time?"
M. Cardon-Gabriel, I mean-stirred uneasily. He reached over to the table for a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, offered me one and lit both. I slid back down to my previous position, and wondered why this question was causing as much discomfort as it apparently was. I had smoked almost half my cigarette before he replied.
"Jeannie," he said finally, "let me tell you something. First let me tell you that that room you were in is not my bedroom."
"What?"
"Well, I sleep there, but it isn't my bedroom, not really. It's my wife's. In fact this house is hers." He paused. He was speaking so softly I could hardly hear him. "This house belongs to my-wife. Everything here is hers. The cars in the garage are hers."
"But she doesn't live here. Marie said she lives in the South."
Gabriel reached for the ashtray, and we extinguished our cigarettes. He blew out smoke in a long velvety plume before he spoke again.
"She lives here sometimes, my wife. Other times, no. Other times she lives in Toulon, or in Geneva, or in New York. She is-very rich."
"Yes?" I wondered if ah this was just a husband's embarrassment at admitting that his wife was wealthy-perhaps that her wealth had made him what he was, or something. I waited patiently for Gabriel to continue.
"Jeannie, this is a strange household. Things aren't what they seem to be-not necessarily. Let me tell you a few things. You may not like what you hear-"
"-I don't care, Gabriel, you know that-"
"But I guess it's time you knew them." He lit another cigarette, offering me one, which I declined.
"My wife has, ah, rather odd sexual proclivities. She's not quite what you could call a Lesbian, but she-she likes men a little less than she likes women."
I blushed when he said this. Marie and I had so often messed around ... but I was sure of at least one thing: I liked men more than women. So did Marie, for that matter, I thought.
"Please go on," I said softly. 'I'm listening."
"Yes. Well. For one thing-" he coughed "for one thing, I am not married to the woman I call my wife. To Dina-that's her name, did you know it?"
"No."
"Marie never mentioned her?"
I thought for a moment. "Not by name," I said.
"Oh. How strange. Well-anyhow, Dina is not my wife, although she is Charles' mother, and Anne's, and also Henri's. You haven't met Henri-he's only two. He lives with Dina."
"I've heard the kids talk about him. They like him a lot."
"So do I. I think I may be his father."
Things were a little over my head now. "You mean you mean you and Dina never got married, but you're the kids' father, and-?"
"No, no I don't mean that at all." He squashed his cigarette into the ashtray and set it on the floor by the bed. Then he turned and kissed my cheek before continuing his narrative, if that's what it could be called.
"Let me be frank. Marie and Dina are lovers, have been for years. Both of them are how do you say it in English-AC-DC, I think."
"Yeah."
"Meaning they can go either way ... with men, with women."
"Right. I understand."
"Well, Dina sort of keeps this place for Marie. And the kids, of course that's what Marie does in exchange, she looks after the kids."
"And you? Where do you fit in?"
Gabriel Cardon lay very still for a long time. His breathing was rapid and shallow. This was painful to him.
"I am in turn kept by Marie," he said slowly. I was careful not to move, not to disturb him.
"We met years ago. I knew she was-that she liked women, but I loved her anyway. We-we were lovers. And then I found out about Dina. At first I was very angry. I accused Marie of ah sorts of things, called her ah sorts of names. Then I quieted down, and I found I still loved her. I really did." He turned to me again and I felt him studying my face, watching my reaction. I turned and smiled at him. "You must believe me," he said in a different tone of voice. "I really did love her. Sometimes I think I still love her.
"Anyhow, Dina had a lot of money. She inherited most of it, and she got a lot from divorcing a husband who's been out of the picture many, many years. She had Anne, and then Charles, by her husband. She has never cared for them. She left them in Marie's care."
"And the baby?"
"Henri. Yes, Henri. Well, a few years ago Marie and Dina had a fight. I was living here then-Marie and I were living together, we had been for about five years, I guess-and that was O.K. with Dina. She was almost never here. When she came I usually moved out, took an apartment for a few weeks."
"Yes?"
"Well, this time she and Marie had a big fight. I don't really know what about. I somehow ended up in the middle of it. Marie left, and Dina and I were here together. We slept together. She did it mostly to spite Marie, I think-so that Marie would be furious when she came back.
"Well, Marie did come back, and she was furious. I left this time-went on a long vacation to England. Almost six months later-no, longer than that, almost ten months, I think-almost ten months later I heard from Marie. She was sorry, she wanted me back, she forgave me.
"I came back. It was the wrong thing to do, and I've hated myself ever since. Something had changed in Marie. Dina was gone again, Marie was back here. I came back.
"It wasn't until almost seven months later that I heard about Dina's having had a baby. My baby, I think-although really I have no way of knowing."
I turned onto my side and rubbed Gabriel's stomach with my palm. What amazing stories these were! What a household! I wondered what Dina must be like. All sorts of little problems were getting cleared up. I listened on.
"Marie thought that Dina's having had my child-my probable child, that is-was some sort of triumph for her. I didn't realize it, and I still don't fully understand it, but Marie somehow interpreted the fact of Dina's having gotten pregnant as a victory for herself, Marie. I was just a tool, a weapon in their battle.
"So now I am something like a phantom here. Marie and I do not sleep together any more. She has her own room, and only rarely comes into mine-the one you were in the other night. When she and Dina are here together, they take over that bedroom. Dina designed it, and of course she paid for it. She's paid for everything.
"Dina's due any time now-in fact, she's overdue. When she comes, you'll have to leave. Rightly or wrongly, she'll think Marie brought you here-she'll think that you're Marie's lover. And she'll be insanely jealous...."
"But Gabriel-what about you?"
I guess Fh just stay until they kick me out. I am a lawyer, and not entirely unsuccessful at my trade. But this house-I don't make enough money. I guess I've gotten used to living like this. I'll stay."
We were silent for a few moments. Then I spoke: "What about the children?"
"Well, they know most of the story, of course. But as far as they're concerned Dina and I are married. It gives them a father-a stepfather, that is; they haven't seen their real father in years. Dina likes the idea of having a man around the house." He paused. "A man. Yeah."
"Oh Gabriel-you are a man! You are, you really are!"
"Yes," he said drily. "A kept man. Gigolo. Paid-no, Pm not even a gigolo, come to think of it. I no longer make love to Marie."
"You make love to me, Gabriel," I said softly, grabbing his now-soft cock and lifting it gently. I rubbed his balls, ran my fingers lightly through his pubic hair, kneaded the loose flesh of his prick until it became a little more firm. It was very, very important to me to bring him up-to make him feel a man.
"You do a beautiful manly job on me, Gabriel darling," I said softly. I bent my head and kissed the little nipples on his chest, and pulled at some of the hair there with my teeth. "I think you're the most manly fellow I've ever met," I purred. "Look at your cock-ifs growing, getting big. See? Only a man's cock gets big like that, Gabriel. I love it. Look at it! I want it."
I slid down the bed and spread my palms to either side of his cock. It was big-he was nearly fully erect already. I really dug his cock. I really dug him. I slid my palms slowly towards his cock, rubbing the skin and the hair beneath, chafing him, warming him with my hands. I went slow, slow, slowly teasing him up as hard as hard can be.
"That's right, that's right," I whispered softly, moving my head closer and closer to his cock. "A man, a real man-look at this! Look at this cock! I want to kiss it-yes, I want to kiss it." I was getting closer by the second. I moved my hands ah the way in to the base of his penis and moved them back and forth in slow little circles, rubbing his balls beneath, and his cock between, my hands. It weaved and bobbed in front of my face. The veins along the top and sides were standing out in bold relief now, and I ran the tip of one finger very, very slowly up and down the ridge formed by one of the veins. I laid my head on his thigh and looked up beyond his cock and chest to his face, and smiled. He looked back at me very seriously, listening, watching, and feeling what I was doing.
"Gabriel," I whispered, and opened my hand wide and slowly gripped his cock. "Gabriel, this prick is enormous, it is too big for me, what am I to do with it?"
Now he smiled for the first time.
"Let me think," I said. "Yes, I can move my mouth right up close here"-and here I did what I was talking about-"and open it, and...." I parted my lips, washed them quickly with my tongue, and slid them lightly over the big swollen head of his cock. It jumped an inch at my touch, but I kept it firmly within my mouth's embrace. I pushed my tongue hard against his cockslit and drew it in a slow circle ah over the top. Then I lifted my head a little, pulling his cock out of my mouth, and, pursing my lips, kissed the tip of his cock.
"I like that," I whispered. "I like that a lot. But I love this."
Here I opened my mouth wide and slid down over his cock, taking in as much as my mouth could hold.
The super-smooth head of his prick slid nicely against the moist back of my throat. His big cock stuffed my mouth; if it had been any bigger, I couldn't have taken it in, at least not pleasurably. But it was-well, I liked it.
I sucked, lifted my head, sucked some more, glided back down. I remembered having heard something long before about "hum jobs", and although I wasn't quite sure what a "hum job" was I was pretty sure it involved humming on the part of a girl who was sucking a man's cock. So-so I hummed, first low and then high, then in quick alternation. Gabriel instantly put his hands atop my head and pressed down gently. Apparently he liked it. I hummed some more. I tried humming tunes-ah the while bobbing and ducking my head, sucking and licking his cock, washing its tip and sides and underside with my firm, warm tongue. He liked it a lot and so did I, but I had other things in mind as well, so after a while I slid my mouth all the way off his prick and laid my cheek against the base of it. I was almost panting, I was breathing so hard. His big wet cock poked hard against the side of my face. I lifted my face a little bit, and his cock, freed, slid across my cheek and bumped against my nose. I buried the tip of my nose in his pubic hair and breathed in deeply, loving and savoring his good man-smell....
After a while I eased myself up onto my elbows again and slid up Gabriel Cardon's body until his cock was under my pussy. Now I lay back down again, pinning his cock between us so that the tip of it almost touched my belly-button. My tits were almost directly over his little man-tits. I pushed my chest hard at him and gyrated my tits all over his hairy chest. He put his hands on my back and moved them slowly, warmly down to my buttocks, which he started plucking and kneading and slapping lightly.
"Jeannie, you're amazing," he said softly into my ear. In reply I stuck my tongue into his ear a little and washed as much of it as I could reach. I breathed out sharply between my teeth and he groaned in evident pleasure.
I could feel his cock pulsating between us. It felt like an enormous finger or something. I loved the feeling, and said so softly. In reply he put his arms around my waist and turned the both of us gently to one side. Now I was lying on my side and so was he. Then he put his hands at my breasts. His free hand he moved slowly back and forth from one breast to the other.
"You're tits are beautiful," he exclaimed softly.
"Your cock is, too," I whispered. While he was playing with my tits I was fondling his big penis and his large, heavy balls.
Gabriel bent his head after some time and started licking my nipples, raising them into sharp little points by washing them with a wet spear point of his tongue, and then taking them between his lips and sucking on them steadily. My tits were warm and soft and delightedly turned on; my nipples were screaming to be touched, to be sucked.
I changed hands on his cock and ran my other hand between his legs deep into the crack of his ass. The place was incredibly hairy, and surprisingly soft.
I slid the edges of my palm up and down the crack, making it warm, digging in harder with every stroke. I was massaging his asshole. He parted his legs, and under my other hand his cock bounced happily in time with the movements of my hands on his ass. It gave him an idea, or so I thought: keeping his mouth at my tits, he slid one hand down between us and put it firmly, gently between my legs. He cupped my pussy hard, pulling the lips into a tight little fold, then releasing them. Then he stuck a thumb rather roughly between the lips, and pulled it sharply at the same time as he crooked it. The sensation was unlike anything I'd felt before. I wasn't sure I liked it, but then I didn't exactly dislike it, either. I waited for him to do it again, but he didn't. Instead he very gently slid one finger into my thoroughly moist gully and probed down gently until he found my clitoris. This he massaged steadily and firmly while he moved another finger or two in small circles ah over the inside of my pussy.
We were making love in every sense of the word. I continued stroking his penis, moving my hand slowly back and forth its length, and fondling his big balls from time to time. I had already moved my other hand from between his legs to his shoulders and neck, and I ran it lovingly through the hair at the back of his neck. He kept sucking my tits, pulling them more and more strongly into his mouth. From time to time he bit one of my nipples, not hard, of course, but hard enough to make me wince and, once, to make me beg him to stop.
A little drop of fluid came out of the end of his penis-the lubricant, I think it's called-and I rolled this under my thumb all the way down his cock and then down between his balls. I reached through the skin of his scrotum for the very base of his cock, and pressed my fingers flat against it, delving still deeper. I wondered where the penis really begins. Here? There? I didn't really care-I just liked the feel of it, the feel of its warm strength in my hand or mouth or, best of ah, pussy....
Now he was really fingering my pussy. Jesus, his strong, big hand was going crazy down there. He extended one finger and drove it in mercilessly, really hurting me, until I got used to it. My cunt was thoroughly wet by now, of course, but still-I wasn't prepared. I got used to the feeling pretty quickly. In fact, I started fucking his finger-pulling at it as if it were a cock, a rather skinny cock, to be sure, but a cock nonetheless. He pushed it steadily in, going far, deep, reaching and probing. He turned his finger this way and that, and now I thought I was going crazy. I twisted and turned my hips every which way, but the sensation was always the same. As he probed with his finger he kept simulating my clitoris with his thumb, pushing it gently for a while, and then not so gently-even sort of snapping it once in a while. My pussy, my poor pussy, was crying for relief, but at the same time I was enjoying myself immensely....
He was too. His cock was huge, a ramrod, a piece of pipe. I could hardly get my hand around the goddamned thing. I wanted him in me, and the sooner the better. I knew what I could do with it, to it, because of it ... my cunt could smell his cock, if you know what I mean, and it was very goddamned hungry indeed. And I think his cock felt much the same way. The big, purplish head was swollen with need, and was pulsing hard, trying to get to my pussy. I was ready. He was ready.
At last I reached down and pulled his hand out of my pussy. He was still licking, kissing, biting, and sucking on my tits, completely lost in them, loving them, making love to them. My tits could hardly stand the pleasure-and-pain he was giving me.
We had never done it sideways before, Gabriel and I, but this time seemed as good a time as any. I eased my hips back an inch or so and at the same time slid his cock down firmly by pressing down at the base of it with my thumb. It stuck straight out between us. I pulled back some more, pushed down on his cock, put it between my lips, and very, very slowly slid myself home. My pussy was alive with need. It took him in gently, softly, cradling him, loving him ... my pussy bathed him in its sweet juice, rocked him, hugged him gently. I hitched a leg up over his hips and dug my heel into his back, pushing him closer, bringing him home. He sighed heavily in my ear and then kissed my mouth with his warm, strong lips. We Frenched. He washed my mouth with his tongue, and I his, and we bit one another's lips and kissed a thousand kisses ah over one another's faces. He had one hand on my tits, which he was massaging steadily and firmly, and the other on my ass, which he was pulling and kneading. I was sweating, and his hand rubbed smoothly through the moisture on my ass, warming my skin and at the same time forcing my cunt to take more and ever more of his big hot prick.
That's just what it was, too: big and hot. God, I thought it would never quit entering me. Just when I thought yes, that's it, that's all,-just then, he'd press home more or I'd pull, whichever, and I'd be stuffed with still more cock. His cock was at my womb's door, pushing in, smoothly rubbing every single inch of my moist, hot pussy. When at last he was all the way in-and we did this slowly, mind, very slowly indeed-we paused and caught our breath, so to speak. I was tingling ah over. My breasts were alive with sensation. He was still rolling my nipples between his fingers and palming the whole of my smooth breasts, lifting them and mashing them gently into my chest, and pushing them together. And he was at the same time still kneading the flesh of my ass, running his fingers into the crack there and squeezing and cupping my buttock until it almost hurt. I had my free hand on his ass, too, and was doing much the same to him. From time to time I snuck a little bit of one finger gently into his asshole, not going in very far, just sort of exploring; and when I did that his prick expanded slightly, pushing in ah the more, pushing my pussy's wet, warm walls all the more.
We rested and then we began to fuck in earnest God, how we fucked that night! Gabriel pulled almost all the way out, and I pulled my hips back too, and after poising there for just a half-second we both pushed again, and the huge head of his cock rammed home once more. Back out again, pause, then in.
Out, in. The rhythm was incredible. I couldn't get enough of it. I couldn't get enough of his cock, enough of him. My pussy felt hollow, empty-then stuffed absolutely full ... out, in. Fuck, fuck. We speeded up slightly, neither of us wanting to, I think, but doing it out of need. His cock came in harder now, ramming me, and I clutched with my pussy-muscles as if my life depended on it. I squeezed, clutched, pulled, sucked with my pussy. I wanted his cock. I wanted it. I wanted this fuck, this man, this man's come, his body, his soul.
I was fucking beautifully now and I knew it, and so was he, and he knew it too. We shoved our crotches at each other like animals in the wild-but also like the most graceful ballet dancers the world has ever seen.
What his cock and my pussy were doing together was only part of it. My tits were involved, and my ass, and my legs and head and everything else. This was whole-body fucking. I tingled all over-really. My cunt was the certain center of everything, but the rest was all part too. His cock was the focus of my attention-but I was aware of every part of him. He was his cock. I was my pussy. I was pussy-wet, soft, gentle, fragrant. He was cock-strong, hot, determined, active. I fucked him, he fucked me. Pussy fucked cock fucked pussy....
It was fantastic. We fucked so goddamned-what's the word-so goddamned thoroughly. It was a rich fuck, a high fuck, a penetrating-of-the-soul fuck....
He came first. I wasn't far behind. His come washed into me like a bucket of hot syrup. My pussy drank it up greedily. Then I started coming. I climbed the rainbow-oh, hell, make up your own description, just make it beautiful....
Much later I stole out of bed and went to the bathroom. When I got back into bed I pulled the sheets and blankets up over us, and in doing so I woke him up. He woke up and kissed me warmly on the mouth, and then he got up and went in to pee, too. When he came back and got under the covers we held each other tightly, but instead of falling asleep we talked to one another, softly and personally. We talked about our dreams and goals and ambitions, about our childhoods, about our folks. We compared notes on our two cultures, American and French. We talked like young lovers: full of hope and gentleness.
We talked the talk of love, but we both knew it was for that night only. I was-well, I was who I was, and he was who he was, and that, we both knew, sadly, was that.
Two days later Dina came. She took over the house. Her voice filled it, her spirit dominated it. She was beautiful-probably the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. She eyed me closely, figured me out at once, and dismissed me. She didn't say a word, but I knew I had to leave.
Marie was terrified of the woman. So, I think, was Gabriel, although he didn't show his terror as much. The kids, on the other hand, treated her with a kind of strong contempt. Their words were polite but their voices were icy. I felt sorry for Dina. I felt sorry for Marie. I felt-well, I guess I felt a little sorry for Gabriel, too.
And a week after that I was back with Michael. He pestered me with questions about the Cardon household. What work had I done? Whom had I tutored? How much had I been paid? What kind of work went with the maid part?
What kind of work indeed?
A French maid doesn't work-she fucks. That's allh I told Michael.
