Chapter 5
Ramon
"I've decided to pay a visit to 'Le Club' and would like you to come along."
I couldn't believe that Charlotte would change her mind so radically.
"I thought you would never set foot in a place like that," I tried to provoke her.
Charlotte remained unfazed. "I'm not going there for my own amusement, but in the service of science."
She said she was going to conduct a survey on the attitudes of men towards women and wanted to get the young men at 'Le Club' to fill in a questionnaire.
"But what shall I wear?" I asked, remembering what Sylvie and Mirabelle had told me about the effect of the black light.
"Don't worry, I have already selected an outfit for you. Just come to my place in your normal clothes and I'll get you fixed up. You'll be dressed to kill."
I felt a little apprehensive about this. It seemed that she had decided to give me another 'opportunity to learn', as she would put it. But often, I found her way of arranging these opportunities quite humiliating.
Nevertheless, the following Saturday I went to her place as requested, with plenty of time before the disco would open. I undressed as usual and she showed me the clothes she had selected for me. They were a black miniskirt and an equally black top. The skirt was just long enough not to be indecent. The top was made of a semi-transparent crepe lisse. It had a few buttons at the front and was held up by thin spaghetti-straps, leaving the neck and shoulders exposed. For underneath Charlotte had selected tiny bikini-briefs and a strapless bra, both brilliant white.
From what I had heard, the white underwear would shine like a beacon under the influence of the black light. I could imagine that this outfit would attract men like flies and grew even more apprehensive, but when Charlotte made love to me in a beautiful, tender way, all my worries were forgotten.
Afterwards she explained her plan to me. Because I was new and very good looking, lots of men would want to dance with me or just try to chat me up. I was allowed to talk to and dance with whoever I wanted, but before I would have to send them to her so she could give them her questionnaire. It sounded a little weird to me but I couldn't see any harm in helping her with her research.
When we arrived at 'Le Club' the place was just starting to fill up. It was a large, mainly bare room with a stage for the band, a large dance floor in front of the stage and a few tables around the dance floor. One entire wall was taken up by a huge bar. Charlotte established herself at a table near the dance floor and I occupied a place at the bar.
I was amazed by the large number of men - to be precise, mostly boys about my age - who came to talk to me. There were some stupid come-ons like, "Hi cutie, do you come here often?" which I ignored. On the whole they treated me with respect, although it was quite clear that they were after one thing only.
When I sent them to see Charlotte first, some thought this was a stupid idea and lost interest, but most of my pretenders went to talk to her and came back showing me her confirmation that they had completed the questionnaire. I danced with quite a lot of boys whenever the band was playing and stood around chatting when the musicians took a break. The fact that the black light over the dance floor showed everyone the shape of my underwear didn't bother me. After all this wasn't very different from walking around the swimming pool wearing a bikini.
This was a place where young people went to pick up someone or to be picked up, so it didn't surprise me that some of my dance partners tried to feel me up, kiss my neck and shoulders or slide their hands under the back of my skirt to feel my bottom and suggested we go somewhere more private, but I hadn't met anyone interesting enough to contemplate such an invitation.
After some time, Charlotte came to where I was standing at the bar and said, "This is going very well. Now comes phase two of the experiment. Go to the toilet and take off your bra."
I didn't know what to say. Mirabelle had clearly told me that people notice when a girl who had been displaying her bra in the black light was suddenly no longer wearing one. It was a statement of availability for groping and was only done by girls who were desperate to find someone for the night. I didn't see myself in that category, so I told Charlotte that this was not part of our agreement.
Charlotte just said, "It doesn't matter what we agreed, just do as you're told."
Reluctantly, I went to the toilet and took off my bra as Charlotte had requested and handed it to her. As I crossed the dance floor there were a few wolf whistles. Some men had obviously noticed that I was no longer wearing the bright, white garment. I went to my usual place at the bar and asked for a drink when I heard a voice near me say, "Vous êtes très jolie." [You are very pretty.]
My mind was still occupied with the effect the missing bra might have on future dance partners. I didn't pay any attention to what the voice had said and just answered, "If you want to dance with me, you have to see Charlotte over there," pointing in the direction where Charlotte was sitting.
Only after that did I think about what he had said. He was the first one in this place to use the polite form of address, 'vous', rather than the informal 'tu' like everybody else.
He replied, "I wasn't really thinking of dancing. I want to make passionate love to you all night long."
"Well, you have to see Ch..." Again, I had started my response without paying much attention to what he had said. When it sank in, I stopped in mid-sentence and looked at him.
"What?"
He was good looking, I guessed in his late twenties, and everything about him said 'man', but in a very gentle way.
"You heard what I said," he replied. He spoke with a foreign accent which I couldn't quite place. I could tell from his face that he meant what he had said. Not like some boys who occasionally approached me saying, "You wanna fuck?" and probably wouldn't know what to do if I actually were to answer yes. There was something electric, something extremely sensual in the air.
"This is how we'll do it," he said, "You go back to the toilet and take off your panties. You write 'je veux' [I want to] on them with your lipstick and bring them to me. Then we leave, go to my apartment and make passionate love all night long."
This was unbelievable. How could a complete stranger dare to make such an outrageous proposal. I looked at him again. He looked straight back at me. He was serious about this. He just nodded and said, "Go," as if giving me permission to leave.
I was under his spell. Like a sleep-walker, I got off my chair and went to the toilet. Inside the cubicle I slipped off my panties and wrote 'je veux' on the lacy textile. Then, carrying the garment in my hand, I returned to the bar. As I crossed the dance floor there were quite a few more wolf whistles. Those boys had obviously noticed that the other part of my underwear was also gone and that I carried it in my hand for everyone to see. I handed my panties to the stranger without saying a word.
"Very nice," he said as he put them in his pocket. "Let's go." He put his arm around my waist and lead me to the door.
In his car he finally asked me for my name and told me that he was called Ramon. He was 32 years old, from Argentina, but now living in Paris. I told him I was 18 years old, a lie which I considered credible. I didn't want to risk him turning around and taking me back to where he had picked me up.
It would take some time to get to his apartment, so we had a chance to get to know each other a little better. I asked him if he was a frequent visitor to 'Le Club', trying to find out if he usually picked up girls this way.
Ramon explained that this was his first visit, a stroke of luck, so to speak. He had been on his way back from Lyon when he heard on his car radio that all the major roads into Paris were blocked, Especially 'la périphérique', the ring road around Paris, was reported to be one solid traffic jam. Rather than sitting in a traffic jam for hours, he had decided to stop somewhere on the way for an early dinner. When he had finished his meal, the radio was still reporting heavy traffic so he decided to wait a little longer and went for a walk. This is when he saw 'Le Club' and went inside.
"As soon as I saw you, I knew I wanted to make love to you," he said.
"Do you usually tell your victims to take off their panties before you ask for their name?" I asked, trying to get him to tell me a little more about his intentions.
"Well, no, this was a special case. I had been standing next to you for a while without you noticing me, so I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with your friend - I apologize for being so nosey. From what I heard I came to the conclusion that you need someone to tell you what to do, to take responsibility for your actions. So I ventured to help you with your decision - and luckily you followed my advice. I'm sure you won't regret it."
I found this explanation puzzling. Was he hinting that he had discovered Charlotte was my master and did he intend to take over that role?
When I asked him why he had moved from his native country to Paris he just answered, "Professional reasons," and left it at that. After a while he said, "I've been away for a week, so I don't know what state my apartment will be in. You may see some ladies' underwear lying around."
'Oh dear,' I thought, 'this one's seducing women by the dozen and keeps their underwear as a trophy. I wonder if there are any bodies hidden under the floorboards.'
He continued, "I don't want you to get a wrong impression. It's part of my job."
I kind of expected that the stranger would rest his hand on my knee, let it slide up my thighs, underneath my skirt or make some other advances towards me. After all I had agreed to let him have his way with me - I had even given it to him in writing. And he knew that I wasn't wearing any underwear. My skimpy skirt and flimsy top wouldn't offer much protection. But, to my surprise, he behaved like a perfect gentleman throughout the journey.
Ramon parked the car in an underground garage and we took the lift to the top floor where his apartment was. We entered a small hallway with several doors leading off to either side. At the end of the corridor was a large rectangular space, with floor-to-ceiling windows on either end overlooking Paris.
The large room was divided into three distinct spaces each with its own characteristics. The part to the left looked like an artist's studio with a large table on which several sketches were scattered. There were also a number of cameras on tripods and an assortment of lighting equipment. On the walls, I noticed poster-size photographs of very classy looking women wearing elegant underwear, but I didn't see any panties lying around.
The middle part looked like a conventional living room with a sofa, several comfortable armchairs and a large TV screen. There was also a small bar with a few stools which gave access to the kitchen. The other third of the room had a raised floor. In the semi-darkness I saw an enormous bed but couldn't make out much else.
Ramon asked me if I would like a drink. I accepted but left the choice up to him.
"I think the occasion calls for Champagne," he declared. As he went to the kitchen to get a bottle from the fridge, he said, "By the way, there is a phone over there in case you want to make a call."
A call? - Christ! His remark brought me down to earth. I was in Paris, it was nearly ten and my father had told me to be home by eleven at the latest. 'Making passionate love all night long' would take much longer than I had time for. My mind was searching feverishly for a solution. Then I found it: I remembered that Sylvie was nursing a cold and had decided to stay at home that evening, and I knew that I could count on her.
I phoned Sylvie and explained that I would spend the night somewhere else, without going into details. I asked her to call my parents and tell them I was staying at her place. For what reason was I staying at her place? I couldn't come up with a good reason and asked her to think of one. I would call her in the morning to find out what she had told my parents. After this excitement I really needed a drink.
Shortly after I had taken my fist sip of Champagne, Ramon started to kiss me. First he kissed my hair, my forehead and my cheeks, then, rotating the bar stool on which I had planted myself, he proceeded to kiss my neck, shoulders and ear. I was astonished what devastating effect these gentle caresses had on me. A simple flick of his tongue behind my ear lobes sent shivers down my spine and had me moan with desire. He continued to turn the bar stool around, kissing and stroking my neck and shoulders and giving my other ear lobe the same treatment. When we were face to face again our mouths locked in a passionate kiss.
Ramon pushed my head towards him and plunged his tongue into my mouth while I threw my arms around him and tried to match his efforts as best I could. We stopped only briefly to catch our breath and then locked our mouths again in a tight kiss.
After a while, Ramon started to unbutton the halter top I was wearing. As I watched him, I noticed how thin the material really was and how much of the shape of my breasts it revealed. I also realized how hard my nipples had become, an indication of how aroused I was.
When Ramon had undone all buttons, he pushed the spaghetti straps holding the garment in place off my shoulders so that the top would fall. It slipped down a little but its fall was stopped by my erect nipples. Ramon lifted me off the bar stool and stood me on the floor. Then, with a little help from both of us, my halter finally fell to the floor. Ramon stepped back a little to take it all in. His face was like that of a boy who had just received a huge Christmas present.
"You are so beautiful," he finally said.
He gently cupped my breasts as if to feel their weight and then bent down to kiss them, slowly working his way from the left to the right and then back again, not missing the valley in between. When he reached my nipples, the excitement became almost unbearable. My god, how this man could use his tongue. Not even my friend Charlotte who was an expert in these things had ever made my excitement reach this level. First he sucked one of my nipples into his mouth, then he circled his tongue around the rock-hard flesh. When he gave it a few sharp flicks, I felt like I had been whipped in one of my most delicate places. But I didn't just feel it where his mouth was. The sensation went straight to my pussy. I let out a moan and came, feeling at the same time that my legs were no longer able to support me. I stumbled forward, only to be caught in his arms.
He steadied me and said, "Yes, you're right, let's move to a more comfortable place. But first let's finish the unwrapping."
He really thought I was an early Christmas present! Kneeling on the floor in front of me, he unfastened my skirt and let it drop to the floor. There was no further 'wrapping' to be removed as I had already taken off my panties before embarking on this adventure. I could sense that he was tempted to plunge his tongue into my already moist sex there and then. But he restrained himself and, once again, stepped back a little to contemplate his present.
"My god, you're much more beautiful than I expected," he said.
This short interlude gave me a chance to reflect on the strangeness of the situation: Here I was, standing stark naked in front of a man whom I had only met a short while ago. And why was I here? Because he had promised (or should I say offered, or maybe threatened?) to make passionate love to me all night long. If the events so far were anything to go by, I was in for an exciting experience.
Ramon picked me up and carried me, like a newly-wed husband might have carried his bride, up the few steps to the raised platform where the bed was located.
As we approached the bed, soft background lighting came on automatically. 'Hmm, that's handy', I thought to myself, 'this way you don't need to switch on the lights when you've got your hands full.' And I wondered how many times before my lover had come up these steps 'with his hands full'.
Ramon placed me gently on the huge bed and proceeded to strip down to his shorts. I wondered briefly why he didn't go all the way. It certainly wasn't because he was embarrassed about the size of his member, judging from the huge bulge his erection produced. The rest of his body was also quite impressive: strong muscular arms and legs, a broad chest and a belly without any trace of flab. He was obviously looking after himself. I had seen boys my age with more flab than this.
But I didn't have much time to think such idle thoughts as his hands and mouth were soon back on my body. Ramon lay down next to me and took my face into both hands. As before, he started kissing me gently, my hair, my forehead, my eyes, my cheeks and finally my mouth. We embraced tightly as our mouths locked in a wild, passionate kiss.
There was no doubt in my mind that I wanted him to make love to me. That I wanted to be his. Tonight, any night, any day. But would I live up to his expectations? Would he be disappointed when he found out that I had hardly any experience in pleasing a man? In spite of all the excitement his tender caresses were producing, I couldn't help feeling a little tense about the next step. Ramon noticed that there was something worrying me, keeping me from enjoying his treatment to the full.
"Relax," he said, "nothing bad is going to happen to you. You know something? - I'm going to give you a massage."
He turned me around so that I was lying face down on the bed and produced a bottle of fragrant oil from somewhere. He put some of it on his hands and started to give me a massage.
His touch was so light, his hands were so gentle, so subtle; at times I wondered whether he was actually touching me or whether his hands were just hovering above my skin, afraid that I might burst like a soap bubble if he touched me too firmly. It felt like heaven. The massage relaxed me to the point that I imagined myself levitating, my body floating a few centimetres above the bed. That would explain the ease with which he turned me around and gave my front the same treatment he had given my back.
Massaging my front, of course, meant touching my breasts, brushing ever so lightly over my nipples, easing my legs apart and applying the oil to the area around my sex, his hands coming tantalizingly close but never actually touching my pussy. It added desire to the general feeling of well-being. Oh, how I wanted this man, how I wanted to feel him inside me!
The massaging hands soon got assistance from his mouth. The combined team of lips, tongue and skilful hands soon raised my excitement to a level I hadn't thought possible. He caressed my body without any hurry, lingering at every spot for as long as was necessary to achieve the maximum effect, often returning to the same point for a new version of the same thrill. Not like the men I had been with before, who all seemed to be only interested in getting inside my pussy as soon as possible. This time, it was me who was driven wild with desire, wanting him to plunge his cock into me and fuck me senseless. As much as I tried, I couldn't hide the state I was in as his hands and mouth explored every inch of my body.
There came a point when I couldn't contain myself any longer. To hell with the image of the respectable young lady who couldn't possibly beg to be fucked.
"Didn't you say you were going to make love to me?" I asked.
"What do you think I'm doing?" he replied.
"Well, yes ... no, ... you know," I stammered, looking at the bulge in his shorts.
"Oh, I see. You want a visit from my friend here?"
I nodded.
"Well, then, come and get him."
I didn't need a second invitation. I pulled down his shorts as fast as I could. His cock, freed from its prison, almost jumped into my face. Had I been in a normal state of mind, I would have been frightened by its size, but my mind had left its normal state a long time ago. What I had in front of me, just a few inches from my eyes, was living proof that the 'dirty' magazines I had seen weren't lying. Cocks this size did exist! I didn't care that it was much bigger than anything I ever had seen. I wanted this cock inside me, even if it split me in two, even if it was the last thing I ever did.
Eventually, I stopped staring and lay back, spreading my legs invitingly. Ramon still had to free himself completely from his shorts and then joined me. Supporting his weight on one arm he guided the head of his cock into my wet entrance. It slid inside me, aided by the plentiful supply of pussy juices - up to a point. Then I could feel that my tightness did not let it get any further. Ramon just covered my face with little kisses and gradually pushed deeper inside me with little grinding movements. My pussy felt so unbelievably full, stretched to its very limits, but he kept stretching me further, and a little further, until he was completely inside me. Overjoyed, that I had been able to take his full length, I started rocking my pelvis, inviting him to fuck me in earnest.
Ramon didn't move. He just whispered, "Shhhh, relax, let's do it nice and slow."
I realized how totally Ramon controlled me. It wasn't just the physical contact, the fact that my body seemed to have been transformed into a tight sheath for his big cock, it was the sensation of abandoning myself, of submitting completely to him, which gave me a thrill I had never before experienced. I wanted him to dominate me, to take control of me. I wanted to give myself and receive him in return.
For a while we lay there, locked into each other, without a move. Then, almost imperceptibly, he started to move, and I felt my body move in unison with his rhythm. Very gradually, his movements picked up speed and the distance his cock travelled inside me increased with every stroke. Feeling this huge rock-hard cock moving back and forth inside me was a sensation I can't describe in words. It was something I wasn't prepared for. I knew it would result in an overwhelming orgasm but Ramon was not in any hurry to get there.
My excitement reached a level where an increase seemed impossible but it kept increasing. When I came, I felt my juices gushing out of me, the muscles of my pussy contracting around this wonderful cock which was now pounding into me, seeming to penetrate me deeper with each stroke. Ramon just kept fucking me, driving me from one orgasm to the next.
I don't know how long he had been making love to me and how many times I had climaxed when I felt Ramon's movements slow down. I was worried this might be the end of our love-making but he simply rolled around on the bed, taking me with him. He was now lying on his back with me on top of him. Ramon suggested that I ride his cock. This would give me complete control of my pleasure, I would be able to suit the penetration to my needs.
It was wonderful, just as he had said. I had never been in this position before. I could simply rock back and forth and feel his hardness adjust to the different angle, or I could lift myself up until his cock almost left its tight enclosure and than plunge back down, impaling myself on this delicious rod.
I experimented all the possibilities and enjoyed the different sensations they produced. When Ramon reached for my breasts to fondle them, I got there first. I wanted to put on a show to let him know how much I was enjoying myself. I suited my caresses to my movements. I simply cupped my breasts in my hands when I rocked gently back and forth, squeezed them as I rose, and rubbed my nipples as I plunged down his shaft.
I had started out just playing with the sensations this new position offered me, but it soon turned into a serious desire for another orgasm. I rode myself to a glorious climax, helped by my busy hands on my nipples. I collapsed on top of my lover, breathing heavily from the effort.
Somehow, Ramon managed to slip out from underneath me, as I lay slumped on top of him. I could feel a hand reach from behind between my legs and touch my soaking wet pussy. He moistened two fingers with my juices and started to lubricate my anus, applying some pressure to push one finger inside. I couldn't help it, I just froze. My whole body went rigid at the thought of him wanting to push his huge cock inside my rear. "Please, not there, not today," I begged, hoping he would understand.
Ramon didn't seem to be perturbed. He lifted me up by my hips, until I was on all fours and entered my pussy from behind. "If we were dogs, we could do this on the streets," he said.
Relieved that he wasn't upset by my refusal, I barked and said, "If I was your bitch, I'd be always in heat."
This new position gave him all the advantages: he could plunge his cock deep inside my well-lubricated pussy, my breasts were swinging free, conveniently available to his eager hands. He started with long, slow strokes, building up my excitement with each move. One of his hands moved down my belly and found my clitoris, only centimetres away from where his cock was sliding in and out of me, driving me insane. I couldn't hold back, his fingers on my sensitive knob were more than I could take. I gasped as another orgasm ripped through my body.
Charlotte had frequently said that I was insatiable, and probably not without reason. But so was he. He now decided to make me go 'walkies' on all fours through his apartment. He followed me, also on hands and knees. Whenever we met face to face, he kissed me, then he proceeded to sniff my pussy, just like real dogs do. He would mount me and drive his hard cock inside me without mercy. There probably wasn't a corner in the whole apartment where he didn't track me down and enter me.
I was overwhelmed. I had never imagined that sex with a man could be like this. I had gone way beyond what I thought was physically possible but my wanton lust, my desire for more and more kept me going. There was, of course, another factor. Throughout the innumerous orgasms I had experienced, Ramon hadn't come yet. It was a mystery to me how he could pound his cock into me, slowly or fiercely, in every imaginable position, without climaxing. There came a point when I was so exhausted that I just crawled back onto the bed and said, "Make love to me just one more time, Ramon. Come inside me."
It seemed that he had just been waiting for my permission to climax. He entered me very gently and kissed my face which was by now covered with perspiration. His movements picked up speed and pushed his cock deep inside me. This time, it didn't take long for him to come. When he did, it was like the eruption of a volcano. I could feel his cock pulsate and shoot load after load of hot semen deep inside me. The sensation was so intense that it took me to another climax. Ramon lay on top of me, barely able to support his weight on his arms, breathing heavily. Eventually he slipped off me and out of me and lay next to me, embracing me from behind. "I think you deserve a rest," he said.
As I turned around and looked out of the window I could see the first rays of sunlight rise over the roofs of Paris.
"Good morning, darling, I'm sorry to wake you so rudely. But I believe you've got some phone calls to make before they report you as a missing person."
Ramon was standing in front of me, dressed in a kimono-style gown. He kissed me gently as I opened my eyes. He handed me a cordless phone and disappeared into the kitchen. It was ten in the morning. I had slept soundly for four, maybe five hours, but I still felt exhausted. It seemed like every bone in my body had been broken. The inside of my pussy felt raw, as if the walls of my vagina had been sandpapered. My labia were swollen and hurt with every move I made.
On the phone, I found out that Sylvie had told my mother that she was having one of her asthma attacks and, as her parents had gone away for the weekend, she asked if I could spend the night at her place, just in case her condition got worse. There was no way my parents could refuse her request. My mother had already phoned in the morning to find out when I would come home. Sylvie told her that I was having a rest after staying up all night. She suggested that I call home as if I was still at her place and let them know when I'd get home. Of course, Sylvie was dying to hear where I was, with whom, and what I had got up to. I just told her that it had been the best night of my life and I would let her know all the details in the afternoon.
The call to my parents was more complicated. Could I assume that Ramon would drive me back to Villiers? When would we leave here? Didn't I need some more time to recover? When would we get there? I decided to keep things as vague as possible. I told my mother who answered the phone that I was going to fix lunch for Sylvie and myself, and if I felt she was well enough to be left alone I would be home some time in the afternoon.
It was the 'morning after', the critical point when people think about and find out whether what happened the night before was the start of a lasting relationship or just a one-night stand. Or whether they'd rather forget altogether that it happened. I knew very little about the person Ramon, but as a lover he had been fantastic. I was sure I wanted to repeat last night's experience over and over again, although my pain dampened my enthusiasm a little.
But what about him? Ramon was obviously very concerned that I didn't get into trouble with my parents. Had he just picked me up for a night of fun and games and was now keen on returning me to my parents? Or was he interested in keeping my domestic situation smooth so we could arrange to meet again soon? Had I - obviously much younger and less experienced than him - lived up to his expectations? How long would it take for him to lose interest in me? I was sure there were plenty of women keen on my place in his bed. But those thoughts didn't lead anywhere. I had to get out of bed and talk to him.
My body felt sticky, I needed to have a bath. I felt a little uneasy about having slept in the state I was in, but I guess there had been mitigating circumstances. I could hear Ramon in the kitchen, preparing breakfast, I assumed. As I tried to get up from the bed to find the bathroom, my legs just caved in under me and I landed on the floor with a bump. Ramon heard me fall and came running from the kitchen. He lifted me up from the floor, put me back on the bed and asked what happened.
"I can't walk. Everything hurts," I said, trying not to panic.
He kissed me and stroked my hair gently. "I'm fixing breakfast for us. That'll help you get your strength back."
"But I need a bath. Look at the state I'm in!" I exclaimed. He looked at me. I was still as naked as I had been all night. I felt maybe I should have covered myself.
"Vous êtes très jolie. You look beautiful," he said. "I'll run you a bath. I'll take care of you, inside and outside," he said before disappearing again.
Ramon's tenderness comforted me. There seemed to be some hope that he wouldn't dump me, at least not straight away. He returned after a few minutes to pick me up and carry me to the bathroom where the bathtub was brimming with foam.
The warm water and whatever he had put in it had a soothing effect on my aching body. As Ramon got a large sponge, worked up a lather and started to clean me, I told him that I didn't understand what had happened to me. I wasn't usually that frail. He told me it wasn't all that surprising.
"Imagine someone who never walks more than a couple of blocks and suddenly decides to run a marathon. They may actually get to the finish line, still feeling in good shape. Their enthusiasm and will-power, the support of the crowd and the company of other runners will get them there. But the next day they will feel terrible. What we did last night was a bit like running a marathon and if your body isn't used to this kind of exercise, it will tell you in no uncertain terms."
I cringed as the sponge passed between my legs and made contact with my pussy.
"And how come you don't feel terrible after our marathon - at least you don't seem to have any pain?"
"Well, I try to stay in good shape, I work out regularly," he said, confirming what I had thought the previous night when I had first seen his lean, muscular body.
This was when I decided that I would take up regular exercise as soon as I had recovered. I had never done it before because there wasn't enough motivation. Now I had a good reason.
"There is, of course, another way of looking at it," he said hesitantly. "You could say that I was so overwhelmed by your beauty that I got carried away, that I was simply trying to show off, create a lasting impression, show you what a fantastic lover I am, so that you would want to see me again. And maybe I overdid it and it had exactly the opposite effect. Maybe you're thinking now, 'This guy almost put me into hospital, I never want to see him again.'"
"My dear Ramon," I hugged him, getting him thoroughly wet in the process, "and I was worried that you might not want to see me again because I'm not in your league."
Relieved, he helped me out of the bathtub and dried me. Then he handed me a towelling robe, saying, "This may be a bit large for you. I'm not very well prepared for female visitors."
I had regained some strength but he insisted on carrying me to the kitchen where he sat me down in front of the feast he had prepared. It was a brunch fit for athletes - marathon lovers and others.
Ramon assured me that my muscular aches and pains would disappear within a few days but he was concerned about my aching pussy. He told me he knew a gynaecologist who attended patients on Sunday mornings and suggested that I should let her have a look at me. At first I tried to play down my discomfort, saying this was nothing that time wouldn't cure, but eventually I gave in. Ramon phoned to make an appointment.
When it came to getting dressed, there was only the skirt and blouse I had worn the day before. Ramon offered to let me have my panties back, but the state my pussy was in, I was better off without panties. Besides, the panties were his, he thoroughly deserved his trophy. I just wished the skirt had been a little longer and the blouse a little less transparent.
On the way, I thought how typical of Paris this was: On Saturday night they make love until they drop and on Sunday morning the gynaecologists are open to repair the damage.
The doctor was unexpectedly young and good looking. My experience in Villiers had been that doctors usually were at least sixty and about to retire. She made me lie on a bed which was fitted with some contraptions to hold my legs apart and slightly lifted so she had a clear view of my sex. She opened my pussy lips very gently and shone a light inside my vagina to inspect me. Then she turned to Ramon and asked, "Did you do this?"
Ramon didn't say anything but made a face like a puppy that had been caught chewing his master's favourite slippers. I could have embraced him and asked him to fuck me some more, just because of this face.
The doctor said, "You should be ashamed of yourself," but it didn't seem like a stern-faced reprimand. With the same voice she might have said, "Why did you do this to such an inexperienced girl, you should have come to me, I can take it much better." But maybe that was just my impression. I imagined that many women would envy me for the experience of the past night.
The doctor told me that there was some mild chafing inside my vagina 'due to excessive friction' and that my labia were swollen and extremely sensitive for the same reason. But, on the whole, there was no cause for alarm. She gave me an ointment that I was to apply inside my vagina before going to sleep and some bath salts to reduce the swelling.
"And," she said, pointing to Ramon, "don't let him get near you for a few days".
I could have kissed her for saying 'days' instead of 'weeks' or 'months'. In the end, it seemed that there was no serious damage, I just would feel very uncomfortable for a few days - a price I considered worth paying.
Afterwards I asked Ramon to drive me to Villiers. He really wanted to spend some more time with me, show me a little of Paris, but he had to agree that I wasn't in a condition for sightseeing. He dropped me near, but not too near my parents' house. He kissed me and promised to get in touch to arrange our next get-together. I had recovered some of my strength and was able to walk, but my pussy lips were still extremely sensitive. Each step made me wince as my legs squeezed them together. I managed to slip into my room quietly without my parents noticing and changed quickly into some more 'respectable' clothes. Then I went to greet them.
I reported that I had been awake all night looking after Sylvie and had only got a few hours of sleep in the morning. My mother told me that they were proud of me because I had been looking so unselfishly after my sick friend. She also told me that I looked tired and suggested I'd have a rest.
I had been in bed for about two hours, sometimes sleeping, sometimes daydreaming about Ramon, when Sylvie and Mirabelle arrived. Sylvie had already told Mirabelle all she knew - which wasn't very much - and both of them were keen on hearing all the details from me.
Mirabelle seemed concerned. "You look terrible, what happened?" she asked.
I smiled. "Oh, I didn't get a wink of sleep last night because I was watching over my sick friend here."
They both laughed. "We know that version of the story already. We want to know what really happened."
I told them that I had met this wonderful man who had made passionate love to me all night long, knowing very well that they would want to know all the details.
"Is he the lucky one who won you in the raffle?" Mirabelle asked.
I didn't know what on earth she was talking about. Sylvie also looked puzzled.
"What do you mean, 'won me in the raffle'?"
"Well, I talked to a friend of mine this morning. He was at 'Le Club' last night and he told me you had been the prize in a raffle."
I still didn't understand and asked again what she meant.
"Well, I wasn't there myself, I can only repeat what he told me. He said there was this friend of yours, Charlotte, handing out questionnaires to everybody who wanted to dance with you. And when they returned the completed questionnaire they were given a raffle ticket. The winner would get a 'date' with you."
I was furious. That bitch! She hadn't said a word about the raffle to me. I probably wouldn't have agreed because a 'date' in the context of 'Le Club' wasn't as innocent as the word implied. People didn't go to 'Le Club' to find a 'date', they went there to find a partner for the night. If this story about me agreeing to be the prize in a raffle got around, it would be terrible for my reputation. Worse still, if my father got to hear about this, it could have serious consequences for my further education.
This time Charlotte had definitely overstepped the mark. This wasn't any longer about expanding my sexual horizon, this wasn't about getting me to do something which deep down inside I wanted to do anyway but didn't have the courage to admit it. This was putting my future in jeopardy; this could prevent me from achieving independence from my parents. I would have to put Charlotte in her place, maybe even break up our relationship.
I confirmed to Mirabelle and Sylvie that I had in fact been to 'Le Club' with Charlotte and that she had handed out questionnaires to everyone who wanted to dance with me. But, I assured them, I didn't know anything about a raffle. If it was true, I would have to have a serious conversation with Charlotte. It seems that I had been twice lucky when I left with Ramon. Not only did I manage to avoid the embarrassment of the raffle, I also got to spend the night with the most passionate lover one could imagine.
I told them what I knew about Ramon - which wasn't very much - and about the delights he had made me experience all night long. I even lifted my night gown to show them my suffering pussy, inviting them to touch my puffed up labia and wincing in pain when Mirabelle actually did touch me. It almost seemed that I was taking pride in my suffering.
Both of them seemed to be very happy for me (maybe partly because this experience would definitely save me from the clutches of lesbianism), but they were worried about the age difference. To say that Ramon could be my father would be a little exaggerated, but he was significantly older than me.
Mirabelle soon started to make plans for my next encounter with Ramon. She suggested we meet on Saturday in my room for an all-day session of our exam preparations. Then we would tell my mother that on Sunday we'd do the same in her place. This would give me a chance to spend all day Sunday with Ramon without having to invent another sick friend. For the following weekend, the last one before the exams, she suggested a trip to her parents' hut in the mountains. She and Sylvie were planning to go there in any case to meet up with Jean-Paul and Guy, so I could bring Ramon along. We would have to sleep in the living room because the two bedrooms were already taken.
I stopped her there and reminded her that Ramon did have a place where I could stay. All I needed was an excuse for spending the weekend away from home and for this purpose the hut in the mountains was a brilliant idea. But they were keen on meeting Ramon and I promised that I would try to bring him to the hut sometime during that weekend - if he was still my lover by that time.