Our office team of four—Pierre, Eric, Laurette, and me, Jean-Luc—tackled a four-day MTB raid over Ascension weekend in the Ardennes. Sixty km daily. Gîte lodging, meals provided. End of day three. Bodies wrecked. Dropped bags, hit dinner. Stunning gîte. Huge bay window on wooded lake. Two bedrooms off the living. Pierre and I took first with twin beds. Eric the second. Laurette got the double sofa bed in the living.
The spot screamed vacation paradise. First time sharing digs solo with male coworkers. Tension hummed under pro facades.
The Building Tension
Dinner rocked with folk tunes. Laurette crashed early, legs screaming. Pierre overdid booze. Regional feast—heavy, like coucou de Malines? I hauled his drunk ass back along dark lakeside path. He puked fish food. Finally tucked him in. Snores erupted instantly. Printer whirred faintly from Eric’s forgotten laptop in the corner. Coffee scent lingered from the pot, mixing with her faint perfume wafting from the sofa.
Heading out, soft sleepy voice from the couch: “Jean-Luc?”
“Yeah. Not sleeping?”
“You woke me. Late?”
“Near 11. Pierre’s trashed.”
Sat sofa edge. Door clicked locked behind. Mouse clacks echoed distantly—maybe Eric online.
“Sorry. Legs kill. First long ride.”
“Brave newbie. Massage? Sports coach cert here.”
“Please. Or no sleep, no ride tomorrow.”
Pushed quilt aside. Shock: lace panty and bra set. Moonlight glowed her curves. Mid-40s, brunette, 5’3″, stacked right. Colleague crush ignited. Satiny skin. No cover-up. Eyes half-shut, thighs clamped.
Gripped left calf. Slow strokes up, heartward. Effleurage. Calf to thigh. Parted legs slight. Switched sides. Hand grazed panty, Venus mound. Cock stiffened hard. Her breath quickened. Wet heat seeped.
“Like it?”
“Fuck yes. Magic hands. More!”
Intensified inner thighs. Fingertips brushed mound deliberate. Thighs parted. Lascivious pose, lace stark in moonlight. Knelt at sofa end. Kissed feet. Tongue between toes. Sucked big toe like a mini-cock. Salty-clean bliss. Her gasps spiked.
Waves of heat flooded my core. Stayed still, savoring his sensual fire.
Kissed up calves, knees. Inner thighs. Cheek to panty on belly. Hands high inside. Hers in my hair. Gripped mound through lace. Shiver hit. Fingers precise—spread lips, felt gush. Slid under. Deeper into slick folds. Hips bucked.
“Lie across, legs out.”
“What?”
“Gonna drink your pussy.”
“Eric might walk in.”
“He’s hooked up. Maybe not back.”
Shifted. Thighs wide to window. Moonlit. No neighbors. Peeled panties. Juicy apricot, trimmed bush. Kissed inner thighs. Fingers parted lips. Mouth latched. Sipped nectar. Tongue hunted clit—swollen, easy find. Arms under thighs, gripped hips. Sucked clit hard.
Tremors ripped me. Hot swirls everywhere.
Orgasm built wild. Hips thrashed. Thighs clamped head. Hands crushed me in. She arched, stifled growl. Spasmed hard. Then relaxed. Head on belly. We froze.
The Explosive Release
“God, Jean-Luc. Epic. Long time no cum like that.”
“Love eating pussy to explosion. Better than vanilla fuck.”
“Hold me full.”
She straightened. Stripped. Couette over us. Spooned tight, leg between. Tongues danced deep.
His naked bod: 6′, dark, muscled god. Fingers traced ridges. Wanted him quaking.
Her hand gripped cock. Slow jerk, gland tease. Unhooked bra. Perky apple tits, brown areolas, stiff nips. Kneaded. Pinched peaks. Moans. Kissed neck, licked to tits. Sucked nips like clit. Shivers. Needed her now.
“Want you, Laurette. Fuck you deep.”
“Take me. Wet for your cock.”
Pressed lips. Legs spread. Guided me in. One thrust—buried in soaked heat.
Long moan. Clung fierce.
Frozen in bliss. Pumped slow. Door creaked—Eric! Froze glued, silent.
Pulse hammered. Licked his salty skin. Cock throbbed inside. Eric’s bed cracked. Locked door held. Coffee-perfume haze thickened.
Eric crashed. Snores. Rigidity dipped.
“My turn.” Turned, ass up, pussy gaping. Lips engulfed cock. Sucked deep. Revived instantly.
Licked shaft, balls. Showed dripping slit.
Mouth heaven. Edged explosion. Stopped. “Cum in my pussy. Take us both over.”
“Ride it.”
Straddled slow. Impaled full. Hips rolled. Tits bounced. Kneaded, pinched. She galloped harder.
“Gonna cum!”
“Me too, baby!”
Waves crashed. Jets filled her. She convulsed, bit lip silent. Shared peak.
Collapsed. Kissed. Hearts synced. “Insane cum.” “Mutual heaven.”
“Again sometime?”
“Can’t. Not free. Just this secret.”
Spooned ass-to-cock. Kissed neck. She slept. Slipped out. Couette over. Dressed. Bed-bound, images burned. Parenthèse closed.