What Grown-ups Do (Fm Ff ) : by (c) Hamilton Joyce Belle Renoir sat on her balcony in the late afternoon sun. It was Sunday and the sound of the traffic from the Boulevard was not intolerable. She had chosen the apartment twenty years before because the block was reasonably tranquil in its leafy square, set back from the main thoroughfare. It was, perhaps, indiscreet to sit there in her underwear, but it was hot, and the wall of the balcony with its ferns and creepers hid her from the waist down. Young Gaston crossed the Square. He was carrying his mother's shopping basket, and Belle guessed he had been sent out to get bread, or something needed for the family meal that evening. His family had lived in the flats almost as long as Belle and she had watched him grow up from a noisy little boy into a young man. He must be sixteen now, she thought. He had a good strong body, nice broad shoulders and a hard little bum under those tight summer shorts. Good strong legs, too, she thought. Nice golden legs, with their light fuzz of golden hair. God! It was hot! She stretched her legs, and without thinking her hand slipped down the front of her panties and, as it were, tested the temperature down there. Gaston had aroused her. Her finger slid easily into her moistened slit and then up into her cunt. She gave her clit a squeeze between finger and thumb and wondered what he would be like. She didn't often go for very young men, but she knew sixteen year olds were incredibly virile. Her mind went back to that first summer in Provence. Same blonde hair and broad shoulders. What was his name? No, gone now, but she certainly still remembered how he used to do her three, four times in a row in the cool green of the vineyard. It was pleasant masturbating here in the sun, but she better not come. She had a habit of being a bit noisy, and this was rather public! Gaston hated carrying his mother's basket, but there was not much choice. He'd been sent out to get potatoes. And there was Miss Renoir on her balcony, laughing at him doing errands like a little boy. He pretended not to see her, especially as she was only wearing her brassiere. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her. Nice breasts, he thought, bigger than Lisette's, but they looked nice and firm and filled the black satin cups. He wondered if she was in matching black panties. He felt his cock go hard, and carried the basket in front of him to hide his erection. Belle realized she would have to go indoors and bring herself off. Her clit and cunt were demanding orgasm. Too early to call Marcel her current lover, who would still be out with his wife and children Sunday afternoon. She decided to call Mireille. She was good with her tongue, and they could at least use the strap-on for each other. She stood there, phone in her hand, cunt enflamed, as it rang un-answered. No-one else obvious, so it would have to be Belle's five little friends. She was about to lay down on the bed to masturbate when she suddenly thought, 'Why not?' A scheme came into her mind as she looked at the light curtain between her bedroom and the en-suite bathroom. She got out the steps and quickly unhooked it from its rail. Then the steps away, and a stool from the kitchen. She slipped on fresh black panties, the sort they call French knickers, full and loose round the thighs, but with slits cut up the hips almost to the waistband. She dabbed some perfume not onto her cunt, but on the bit between her cunt and her arsehole. She had bought a waxing the week before, and it was nice and smooth there today. Then her short, black silk negligee and some delicate high-heeled slippers, black to match the rest. The teenager would probably enjoy her in garter-belt and black stockings. But it was just too hot. He would have to await Autumn for that pleasure. She looked at herself in the long mirror. Good body, she thought. No flab and clear skin. She caressed her hips and bottom, sleek in black satin. Yes, not bad for fortyfour (though her publicity admitted to only thirty five). And a lot of French males prefer the older, more experienced, more versatile, and more discrete woman! Just what the young lad needed to start him on life's sexual journey! She returned to the balcony. She was just in time. Gaston was returning, his basket full of vegetables. He could not avoid acknowledging her with a wave as he faced her, crossing the Square. In any case, she was more decently dressed now, he thought, with her shoulders covered, and would not be embarrassed at being seen. She waved back and stood up. 'Gaston, I wonder if you could give me a hand, just for a couple of minutes.' He left his basket in the lobby, took the lift up two floors, and rang her bell. She must have been waiting by the door, he thought, as it opened immediately. She was a bit gushing, and overpowering. Close to her for the first time since Christmas when his father had invited her for festive drinks, he was surprised to find she was now a bit shorter than himself. Her hair was silky, black, and glossy as he looked at her. She was respectably dressed now, in that her clothing covered her except for her legs, but incredibly sexy how it clung to her body. The long dry spell had charged the air with static electricity, and the negligee really clung to her, hiding nothing of her shape. He could see the shape of her bra under the satin, and despite the bra, her nipples stood out clearly. He felt his cock getting half-hard. 'How nice of you, Gaston. It's this curtain. I was afraid of falling off. Can you hold me while I put it up?' Without waiting for an answer she had the curtain in her hands and leading him across the room to her bedroom. Now she was standing on the stool. 'Hold my legs. Yes, like that.' His hands were on her hips, and he could feel her firm flesh under two slippery layers of thin silk. The edge of her panties was a raised ridge under his palms. Her legs were pressed against his chest, and one toe of her high heels was uncomfortably sticking into him, right into his balls. As she stretched upwards the hem of her negligee rode up, revealing her tanned thighs. 'Nearly done now. Just these last hooks at the end. Oops!' She appeared to slip, one of her silly, but sexy shoes skidding off the stool. He fell to his knees and found himself holding her hips very tight. His hands had slipped under the satin and he was holding naked flesh. Her negligee had fallen open, and his face was crushed against the satin and lace panties covering her belly. She adjusted herself. 'Close one that. Thought I was falling. You did well. Now hold me firmly, Gaston. These are a bit higher.' She reached higher, and the silk of her panties brushed past his face. He thought, 'I was right. They are matching black.' Now his nose was actually against the mound of her pubic bone. He was very aware of her scent, like that of Lisette when they petted in the park, but also a fresh scent of lilies of the valley. A tiny wisp of black hair peeked out from the crotch as they pulled to one side, she stretching out and upwards. The panties had loose legs but had ridden up tight against her, and besides the hair, he could see the shape of her cunt lips. Her thighs were soft and creamy white, and she was bare of hair where the silk had ridden up into her crotch. He knew she must have shaved there, or at least the lips, which were soft and pink. He had seen a wisp of hair earlier, so she must have left some. He had felt Lisette's in the dark of the cinema but had never been allowed to look: she had the lightest of fuzz, but some fine hairs even on her lips. As she fastened each hook, her cunt rubbed against the bridge of his nose, and he could feel the heat and dampness there. He realized he was completely hard again. The toe of her shoe was up against his cock. He found himself wondering what it would be like to rub his naked cock against her high-heeled ankle. Shit! He'd never been harder! What would Miss Renoir think of him? His hand slipped round to her bottom as she clambered down, still inside her panties. They were very close to each other, and he could see her eyes laughing. 'My word, look what I've done to you!' He gasped as she reached down, and grasped his cock through the thin soccer shorts. 'I don't know what to say, Mademoiselle Renoir. I'm so sorry...' She was laughing now. 'You should be sorry if you didn't get hard, Gaston. This is lovely!' She was rubbing him now, through the cotton. 'And you wouldn't believe what you've done to me.' She took his hand and pressed it to her crotch, thin satin where his nose had been seconds before. 'Feel that!' It was hot, and damp. He knew enough to know what that meant. 'Well. We can't stay like this all afternoon, can we? And what we need, Gaston, is just here.' She led him the two steps to her bed, pulling him by his cock. Her peignoir slipped from her shoulders, and as she stood in front of him he felt his heart beat. She was so sexy in her shiny lingerie, with swelling tits and a lovely round bum. Her waist was so tiny in contrast, and he loved her thick glossy black hair falling to her shoulders. He thought of Lisette, mentally comparing the slight, slender blonde with this voluptuous brunette. She pulled him to her, a hand on each of his shoulders, and kissed him, harder and more passionately than Lisette ever did. They were almost the same height, but she had to reach up just a little to kiss him. He was surprised, as she always looked rather tall when presenting the news on television. Her hands moved down his back and grasped his buttocks. He took this as his cue, and did the same, one hand inside her panties, caressing her flesh, and the other outside, feeling the shiny satin. She laughed. 'I want to see you.' In a moment his t-shirt was up and over his head, dropped on the floor with her robe. She knelt in front of him and pulled his shorts down. Absurdly, he was suddenly pleased he had showered just before going out, and put on clean white underpants. Again he gasped as she closed her mouth over his cock, still inside his white cotton pants. She bit into the cotton quite hard, but short of hurting him. He moaned with pleasure. She laughed, pulled his trainers off, and finally pulled the cotton pants down to leave him naked. He wondered if she would suck him. He loved it when Lisette kissed his knob, but had not yet persuaded her to take him in her mouth. Not fair, really, as she had seen him but he had never seen her. His cock twitched involuntarily in anticipation. He again thought, 'I've never been harder than this.' She thought to herself, 'How long is it since I last had a circumcised cock?' The American basketball player she had interviewed for Sportsweek a couple of winters ago. He had been massive, with his great black knob. This boy was only sixteen, but he was already big enough, and the white shaft sprung from its nest of reddish-gold hairs. The knob pointed arrogantly at her, promising delights. There was a promising, little, clear drop of liquid in its eye. Holding him again by the cock, she pulled him onto the bed beside her. 'I'm ready. You're ready. Fuck me, Gaston. Stick that lovely tool in me.' He was lying on top of her, and could feel her hand between them still grasping his cock. Then she wiped it up and down her slit. Then he felt her wet heat around it. It was like nothing he had ever known before. No sooner was he in than he felt his orgasm building like a watch spring being wound up. He tried to stop, but could not. Just two thrusts, this first fuck, and he was pouring his cum into her in great spurts, a pleasure such as he had never known before. She was laughing, and he felt a sudden shame, thinking she was mocking him for his incompetent efforts. 'I'm so sorry, Miss Renoir. I couldn't hold it.....' 'That's the second time you've apologized, Gaston. I never want you to again. It's very flattering when a man has such a passion for me. And you are still nice and hard in me. Just start again. It'll be a lot more slippery now, but you'll feel me gripping a bit harder. You've got me really worked up. You have good shoulders and biceps.' She licked his tanned shoulder blade, and felt the muscles of his arm. 'Squeeze my tits.' He was fucking properly now, but gently as if he feared he might break something. He ran a hand over the smooth satin of her brassiere. The nipple was hard under it, like Lisette's did when he felt her. He could feel the edge of her knickers chaffing at his cock as he rode up the side of them. 'Pull the bra up. I want to feel you on my tits.' He pulled the bra upwards, releasing her breasts. They were white in contrast to her golden tan. The nipples were big and brown, not like his girl's tiny little pink ones. But they were hard under his palm as he stroked the rounded flesh. He leaned down and licked the swelling mound, and then took a nipple between his lips. She groaned and moved faster beneath him, her hips rising to meet his, so their bodies smacked together. He knew she would come first this time, and from masturbating Lisette, could see her face flushing, and her eyes rolling as she got close to coming. But his little blonde had not prepared him for the sound of a mature woman in orgasm. He was momentarily petrified by the grunts, inarticulate cries, and demands for more, deeper and faster. But then, as he felt her cunt gripping, releasing, gripping, releasing, the passion of her obscene shouts brought him to his peak, and he suddenly found himself again pumping hot cum into her. They lay together, quiet, his cock still in her. Finally he felt her cunt expel his now-limp tool, and he rolled off to lay beside her. She pulled the crumpled bra over her shoulders, slipped her knickers down and was naked beside him, stroking his hairless chest and nestling her head against his shoulder. She wiped his cock with the black satin and then stuck them between her thighs to soak up his come. 'Now, that was a real fuck, Gaston. You've been practising.' 'No, really, Mademoiselle Renoir. That was my first time, I promise you.' 'Then you have a real talent, young man. And this will delight many women.' She held his cock lightly for a moment. She was pleased it was still at least half-hard. 'I'm hot. Let's shower.' She was amused at his interest in her shaped pubic hair. They agreed on the water temperature, just this side of cold. She used the opportunity to study his body in detail, caressing him all over as she soaped him. How lucky she was to have had him the first time. Those shoulders, the clear broad back and tiny hips. The hard little bum, and here, his tight, almost hairless balls. She caressed him under the guise of washing. 'Me now.' In a sexual daze, he ran his hands over back and shoulders, tits, belly and bottom. And then up her legs to her crotch. 'My bottom, too.' He rubbed that secret place with a soapy finger. 'And inside, too.' Half afraid, he slipped his finger in, and felt her grip it. She giggled, and as they kissed under the running water, he felt her index finger slide up his arse. There was a sudden warmth as she caressed him in there, and he felt his cock rise between them. 'The Greek way now. It's not so good for me, but you will love the feel.' She braced herself against the wall so her bottom jutted out towards him. 'Put it where you just had your finger!' He gasped. 'Really? You mean...' 'Come on! Put a bit of soap on it and then ram it in hard.' Looking back on the afternoon, Gaston decided the bit in the shower had been the best. Her cunt had been lovely and slippery, and tight enough to grip him. But her arse had been really tight, and seemed to milk the cum out of him as she thrust her buttocks backwards. Not knowing why, and not even thinking about what he was doing, he had found himself spanking those rounded, wet buttocks at the very moment he came between them. And then they had dried off, and gone "to cool down again on the bed". Here she had sucked him till he was hard, and then till he came. He would have to teach Lisette how to roll her tongue round the knob as she sucked, and how to tickle his balls with one hand, a finger of the other up his arse. He had never cum so many times so quickly. He had offered to suck her, but she had laughed saying they ought "to leave something for next time". There was to be a next time! He was in a daze as he dressed and went to find his basket. ............................................................ It was about eight o'clock when the bell rang. After her pleasant afternoon with Gaston she had taken a cold bath and slipped round to the corner brasserie for a very light meal. She was now enjoying a cigarette, her first of the day, and a glass of Chablis, listening to Mozart on the radio. She worked most evenings, and it really was pleasant to sit here, well-fucked, well- bathed, well-fed, and well-content! 'Damn!' she thought, but went to the door. It was Lisette, clearly upset. She pushed past Belle, who closed the door. 'It's not fair. You're horrible!' 'Very probably, my dear. But why, particularly?' 'It's not fair. You're rich and famous and everything, and you've stolen my Gaston.' 'So the silly boy told you about our little afternoon fun?' 'He promised he'd be faithful!' She was sobbing now, anger mixed with self- pity, Belle thought. 'Come and sit down, Lisette. I'll get you a glass, and we can talk.' 'I don't want to talk. I want my Gaston.' 'Now sit here, and listen a moment. I'm going to tell you some things my mother never told me, and I had to learn the hard way. Now blow your nose.' They sat, Lisette's eyes swollen with tears, but flashing with anger, too. 'Gaston promised to be faithful. I'm afraid all men promise that. And none of them are. It is natural for men to chase women, and most men have at least a dozen in their lives. Some have hundreds, and the most sexy have thousands. And I mean real affaires, not just girls on the rue St Denis!' 'My Gaston wouldn't go there.' 'No, I don't think he would, and I'm sure he wouldn't need to. And you can't say "My Gaston". Firstly, you can't own a person, and second, that is just what real men hate, to be owned. The only men who are "faithful" are those who are so scared of a woman or scandal that they daren't not be. You wouldn't want a wimp like that, would you, Lisette?' 'I suppose not. But are you sure? Surely some...?' 'No they're all the same. You see how the married men all stare at you when you're in the street?' 'I guess so.' 'Of course.' Belle slipped her arm round the girl's shoulder. She could smell lily of the valley on the girl's fine, blonde hair, the same perfume she favored. She gently, reassuringly squeezed the girl's upper arm. 'And I'll tell you what the advantage is to us women. It means that we can have any man we want, for just as long as we want and no longer. Now that is freedom, ma petite.' 'It's all right for you. You're famous, and they see you on Channel Two news every night.' 'Yes! It helps. But you have the freshness of youth. That is what men really want. How they lust after teenage girls! They pretend to be faithful, when they know they won't be! Or perhaps they really think they will be faithful until they see the chance of getting their palms on some tender young arse! Then all the promises are forgotten. Believe me, I know.' 'And your lovely clothes. These must have cost thousands. Mine are so plain.' She stroked the fine black silk negligee Belle was still wearing, though the panties and brassiere had been discarded, sweaty and spunk- stained, and replaced by a thong and light, lacy bra. In the cool of the evening she had put on glossy black stockings. 'I'm thirty years older than you, ma petite. So I need a bit of help, But under these,' she opened her negligee to show black bra and panties that had helped seduce young Gaston, 'under these, I still have a good figure. You would be much sexier naked than me in any amount of silks and satins.' 'Gaston likes sexy things. Stockings and shoes like yours.' 'Well, we'll get you some, my sweet. I'll send you to my favorite boutique and you can put some on my account. We can't have Gaston disappointed, can we?' 'Would you!' 'I'll phone Madame Delours this evening, and you can go round in the morning. Brassiere, panties, suspender belt, stockings and shoes. Ok?' 'You're lovely, Miss Renoir.' 'Not horrible any more? And call me Belle, Lisette.' Lisette blushed. 'Do you and Gaston fuck?' 'No.' 'Why on earth not?' 'I won't let him.' 'He wants to?' 'He's after me to all the time.' 'And you want him?' 'I guess so.' 'You guess so! Well tomorrow put your new lingerie on when your parents are at work, call him, have him come round, and give him what I gave him today. Lucky boy! And make sure he uses condoms. New one each time. And you'd better buy at least six!' 'Should I? I will. I'll do it.' 'You wouldn't believe how excited I am for you, Lisette. Feel how my heart is racing.' She took the girl's hand and placed it on her full bosom. 'Can you feel it?' 'Mine's the same.' This was the cue for Belle to slip her had up under the girl's loose blouse and feel her naked breast beneath. It felt firm, pointy, with hard nipples. Neither of them had any thought to remove their palms. 'Kiss and make up, then, Lisette?' 'Yes!' Their kiss was more like a lovers', as they lingered over it. 'That was lovely, ma petite. Now, you'd better get back or your parents will think you're doing something naughty with Gaston!' Lisette giggled. 'And tomorrow afternoon, come round and show me your new finery, and tell me how Gaston performed!' ............................................... It was still hot the following afternoon. Belle was sitting on her balcony, dressed this time in nothing but a gold silk brassiere, and matching French knickers. She had thought about the thong from the set, but in this heat she needed some air around her cunt. Especially when she thought of what she hoped to do to and with young Lisette. It was about four, and Belle was into her second glass of chilled white wine when the pretty little blonde crossed the square and stood under the balcony. She was heart-stoppingly lovely in her white t-shirt and tight, faded jeans. She had a white plastic carrier bag. 'Come up and have a chat, Lisette.' Lisette was not surprised when the door was opened by the scantily dressed tv star. After all, they were girls together. And it was terribly hot. Though inside the apartment it felt cool. 'I bought the lingerie. It will cost you a hundred and sixty euros.' 'That is very moderate of you, my dear.' 'But these cost eighty. I hope that's not too much.' 'But they are lovely. I love silver slippers, and I'm sure they'll look lovely on you. Show me everything.' The teenager giggled and blushed, but she dropped her jeans and pulled the shirt up over her head. The girl's taste was appalling! And yet Belle felt her clit wake up and tingle as the girl stripped. She slipped her silver shoes on and stood in front of Belle, awkward, her hands clasped behind her back and her hips pushed a bit forward. She looked exactly what she was, a fourteen year old girl pretending to be a tart. 'You look lovely, my dear. And did Gaston appreciate you?' She had chosen scarlet panties, with black trim, and a transparent black nylon panel instead of a crotch. The matching brassiere pushed her tits up even higher, and pulling them together gave a deep cleavage that was not really there. The stockings were hold-ups, black and shiny. 'At least she hasn't bought any naff suspender belt,' thought the older woman. 'I'll bet he did!' Yes, the tarty lingerie was almost calculated to appeal to a sixteen year old lad, hormones raging through his body. 'Turn round. Lovely! What a lucky boy!' From behind she was lovely, the panties hugging her hard little bottom, hips still narrow. The red string across her tanned back, and the crowning glory of long, blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. 'I bought a suspender-belt, too. But I left that for next time I have him.' 'Keep them interested, my dear. That's the secret.' 'You were right, Mademoiselle Renoir. I mean, Belle. He went crazy for me. From eleven till just now, he couldn't keep his hands off me. And you were right. he needed six! Though there wasn't much in it when I took the last one off him. She giggled. 'I emptied him!' 'Until the next time, my dear. He'll be full up again by tomorrow, I bet you.' She had her arms round the girl, She was slightly taller, and the girl's bottom pressed against the top of Belle's thighs. The girl's belly felt firm and warm under her crossed forearms. 'Do you have a lover, Belle?' 'I have two, my dear. There's Marcel. He's a stockbroker. You'd like him. He's a very skilled lover and he's got a wonderful body. And then there's Mireille. You probably know her. She reads the news on Channel Seven. She's the petite blonde one.' She kissed the back of the girl's neck, where the finest of blonde hair started. Strange, she thought, how the hair always grows upwards there. The girl pressed back harder into her belly as she licked the soft flesh. 'You make love to a woman?' 'Of course, my dear. Their caresses are so gentle, their hands so soft.' She reached up to stroke the girl's breast. 'And they know exactly what gives the most pleasure.' She reached down with her other hand to caress the silk- covered pubic mound. The girl sighed. Lisette's heart was beating strongly enough for Belle to feel it through the thin fabric where her palm was pressing the firm little breast. 'It's exciting, isn't it? I can feel your heart beating.' She turned the girl round to face her, and kissed her. there was no hesitation as Lisette's tongue sought out her own. 'Sit down with me, and tell me about how it was this afternoon.' Lisette looked so cute, her knees primly together, beside her on the couch, 'We sat on the new leather couch, just like we are. It was like it always is at first with him kissing me and feeling my tits through my t-shirt, and then pulling it up over my head. He was amazed at my new bra, I tell you.' She giggled. 'He liked it so much he didn't even try to take it off like he always does. And I'd have let him this time.' She giggled again. 'That's nice.' Belle was cradling her young breast in her palm, and tweaking the pert little nipple through the lace. She could see the pinkness through the garish red fabric. 'Anyway, my heart was really beating, and I'm sure he could feel it even through my tits. I purposely bought a bra with the clasp at the front, and he soon undid it, and I let him see me for the first time. I could see he was very hard....a huge bulge in his shorts, and I could feel it against my thigh when he kissed me again. As we kissed I unbuttoned his shirt.' 'Feel how my heart is beating, too.' Belle reached behind her shoulders and unclasped her brassiere to let it fall to the carpet in front of them. Hesitantly, Lisette felt the full, round flesh, stroking her gently, and then squeezing, still gently. She could indeed feel Belle's heart beating.. 'I can feel it beating. And your nipples are hard, like mine.' 'Let me see.' She undid the clasp at the front and the red lace and silk fell to the floor. 'You are lovely.' She leaned forward and kissed one pink nipple and then the other. 'Let me, too.' The blonde in her turn sucked first one brown nipple and then the other, pressing her face into the firm flesh. They kissed, naked bosom to naked bosom, till Lisette broke off, panting and giggling. 'I just love your tongue in my mouth. Gaston doesn't kiss as well as you, darling Belle. Anyway, where was I. Oh yes, next he put his hand up my stockings to the nude bit at the top. He must have been surprised to find stocking tops as I usually wear nothing or tights. Anyway, he kept on stroking my thighs, sometimes the shiny stockings, and sometimes me. Just like you're stroking me, too.' Her tiny hand was resting on Belle's thigh. How she was looking forward to stroking that firm, slightly rounded belly too. 'I knew he wouldn't do much more unless I made it easy, sort of obvious, so I undid the button on my skirt and unzipped it, just enough to show my lovely panties...' 'I bet he liked that!' 'Did he not! So I took his hand in mine, lifted it off my thigh, and slipped it down the front of my panties. You could see it through the lace. Just like you can see yours now, inside . That's lovely. Shall I?' As she spoke she slipped her hand down the waist of Belle's shining French knickers. You could not see her hand through the gold satin. 'I'd let him have a feel before, in the cinema. But I'd never been as excited as this. I lifted my bum and slipped my skirt off. Now he kissed me again, with his finger on my clit this time. I was ever-so wet! You are, too, Belle.' Lisette was slipping her finger up and down Belle's slit, touching her slippery clit and nearly entering the hot, welcoming cunt. Belle had been doing the same to her for several minutes. 'I'm taking my knickers off. I don't want them to get all wet.' 'Me, too.' The gold satin and the red and black nylon joined the brassieres on the carpet. They fingered each other as Lisette told her tale, explaining how Gaston took the initiative now, undressing completely, and then pulling her panties down. 'Oh, that's sexy.' Belle had a Brazil, the thin line of black hair contrasting wickedly with the white flesh of her mound and plump, pink, naked cunt lips. 'Do you shave it?' 'Wax my sweet. A beauty salon in the sixteenth. But yours is just too beautiful. Leave it as it is.' The blonde hair was only slightly curly, a light fuzz over her mound, and even lighter over her cuntlips, which the fondling and caressing had plumped and opened, to show a little, dewy clit peeping out. Does it hurt, waxing I mean?' 'Horribly. But both my lovers like it like this.' 'I do too.' One hand was still caressing the woman's clit, but she stroked the smooth cunt flesh with the other, and combed the thin, glossy line of the remaining hair. 'Do you do this with Mireille Massut? I was looking at her on the television last night, and wondering what it would be like.' 'This and a few other things. I'll show you.' She was on her knees in front of the girl, one hand on each thigh, spreading them a centimeter or two wider. The girl squeaked as Belle pressed a kiss on the open cunt, her tongue seeking out the clit, just as it had sought out the girl's tongue in their earlier, more innocent embraces. She was pleased as the girl's bottom slipped a bit towards her, down to the edge of the couch, and her hips rose so slightly to meet the teasing mouth. Her fingers must have brought the girl to the very brink, because she had scarcely begun to suck and nibble at that delightful slot when she heard the girl slipping into orgasm. Lisette grunted, and her hips rose and fell as she came. As the spasms declined, Belle sat back on her heels, still holding the cunt open, looking at the pink flesh, with its pretty fringe of blonde hair. 'That was lovely, Belle. At least as nice as.... Can I for you now?' 'I'd love that, Lisette. But it'll be nicer still in bed. Come with me.' This hot summer there was only a white silk base-sheet stretched tight over the double bed, no other bedclothes. Lisette lay down first, and then Belle, her face resting on that smooth, firm belly. She licked round the navel, and it tasted salt. Lisette giggled. 'Tickles!' Belle nuzzled between her legs, pushing then open with her cheeks. Thighs closed on the woman's head, gripping her as her tongue again sought out the eager little clit. Belle opened her legs, and felt a timid, tentative tongue on her own clit. Then, as if a decision had been made, the full, open mouth on her cunt, tongue momentarily deep inside her, before returning to lick and lap at her cunt. She gripped the girl tighter round her back and rolled so the girl was on top of her. They lost themselves in the pleasure of sucking, nibbling, licking, while their hands kneaded and caressed. Each could hear the other's muffled cries of delight, and each could feel the writhings and buckings of their partner's rising passion. Belle slipped a finger, wet from Lisette's love-juice into her tight anus, and was rewarded by feeling the girl's index finger slipping into her own. She had a sudden mental image of her lover, Marcel, buggering this girl, taking her other virginity. Kneeling behind her and sliding his cock into that secret place where her finger was dabbling. The image was exciting and she felt herself coming. On top of her Lisette was raking her cunt up and down Belle's face, clit sliding over her nose, lips and chin. The girl was coming, too. In a tangle of limbs they came, disturbing the peace of the Square outside the open windows with the cries and moans of their passion. Old Monsieur Jonqueur leaned on his walking-stick listening. He felt a stirring in his cock, the first for many months, and hurried inside to take advantage of the rare erection. Later, Lisette stubbed out her cigarette, and reached to caress Belle's breast again. Belle smiled, amused. There was nothing like a teenager...boy or girl...for repeated passion. 'You said you do other things with Mireille. What else, Belle?' Belle felt her clit responding to the girl's hand on her nipple, as if there were a hidden thread connecting her cunt and her breast. She reciprocated, resting her hand on the girl's pretty mound. Well, there's this.' She pulled it from under the mattress. It was a strap-on dildo. 'We call it Iron Mike. You know, after Mike Tyson. But not many men have one as big as this.' Lisette laughed, and stood it up on her mound. 'And then there's this.' This was a double dildo, pink flexible plastic. 'We call it Moet and Chandon.' 'Which end is Moet?' 'This one.' Belle slipped the pink knob into her own open, slippery cunt, and then pushed another few inches home. 'So this end is Chandon?' Lisette cuddled up close, and slipped the other end into her equally-prepared cunt. She giggled and embraced her older lover. As they kissed they slipped down the bed, till Belle was lying on top of her teen conquest. Lisette was wriggling, enjoying the feeling of tight fullness . She stopped kissing for a moment. 'Fuck me, Belle. let's fuck!' Their mouths met again, but now both were wriggling and she had her legs clasped round Belle's buttocks, just as she had when Gaston had fucked her that afternoon. This was as good, she thought. It was as good to fuck a girl as a boy. Different, but as good. The woman was heavy on her bosom, their breasts pressing together. She could feel the sweat between their bodies as they fucked, making their tits slip and slide. Belle bit her neck, and she scratched at Belle's back, as their excitement rose. She could feel and hear Belle coming, her belly crashing down now, the dildo sliding in and out of each of them, never quite slipping out because of the size of the helmets at each end. They were noisy as they came, scandalizing the sedate neighborhood. In his armchair, old Jonqueur heard, through two windows, across the Square, and one story lower. He rubbed harder, and he came, momentarily worried for his heart. Lying side-by-side, smoking, they chatted. Or rather, Lisette chatted, excited by the new experience. Belle listened, enjoying the girl's pleasure. Finally Belle interrupted. 'Yes, my sweet, that was lovely. But do you want to know what is really good? 'Better than that?' 'Oh, yes! Think about this. A hard cock up you from behind, laying beside you, fucking long and slow. And at the same time a tongue on your clit, licking and nibbling and sucking. And you sandwiched between two eager bodies.' 'Mmmmmm.' 'And when the one fucking has finished, they switch round.' 'Belle, I think I want it again!' She stubbed her cigarette out and reached for Belle's Brazil. 'I'm done, sweet. Fucked!' 'Have you done that, I mean two at once?' 'Would you like to, Lisette?' 'Could we?' 'Of course. Marcel visits me every Friday afternoon. You'll like Marcel. I'll have him fuck you while I suck you.' 'Oh, Belle!' She grasped Belle's legs, and planted a kiss on her stomach. Belle laughed, and disentangled herself. 'No more for me today. But I've another idea, why not have Gaston, too. Then Marcel can fuck you while Gaston sucks. Then Gaston can fuck you while Marcel sucks.' 'What about you, Belle?' 'Oh, I can suck the spare cock. And I'll enjoy watching you, my sweet. And I expect both of them will have enough energy to do me too. Marcel always comes twice, and from what you tell me of Gaston, he can come as often as he wants. So Thursday it is. Four o'clock. You bring Gaston, and I'll make sure Marcel is in good form. I'll tell him to stay away from his wife for a couple of days! Now let's get up. A shower and a cold Chablis.' FIN