Printer hums in my back office. Coffee aroma mixes with my magnolia perfume. Friday afternoon. Saint-Servan sun glints off the van. Young painter arrives. Ladder on shoulder. Twenty-four, fit. Laurent’s sub. I called him for the sign refresh. Urgent. Wedding chaos for Laurent.
Bell tinkles as I step out. Red hair. Scarlet lips. Corsage strains over pigeon tits. Girdle cinches waist. Smoked legs in seams. Guêpière and garters hidden. ‘Bonjour. From Laurent? Hope you wield that brush well.’ Smirk. Goguenard.
The Mounting Tension
He nods. Climbs ladder. I linger below. Cleavage deep. Red lace edges aréoles. He peeks. Distracted. Brush dips. Paint droplet splats sidewalk. Inches from my heel.
‘Clumsy boy? Distracted by vitrine?’ Strings, bustiers, thongs overflow glass. Lace, silk, leather. Clients trickle in. White tailleur woman. Pushes door. Emerges with Hobade bag. Door ajar. I stand on step. He above. Plunging view down my tits. Majestic swell. Perfect for titfuck.
Mouse clicks echo from office. Door creaks open-close. Allers-retours. Tension coils. My pussy dampens under red string. Lace bites flesh. Afternoon crawls. Finally, he descends. Facade gleams. My work? No. His skill shines.
Push door. Smile coy. ‘Monsieur, one small job inside.’ Eyes bulge at swaying hips. Jupe moulante hugs ass. Velvet curtain slides. Fitting cabin. Dim. Mirror walls. Point chipped white plinthe. ‘Just that.’ He turns. ‘No big dea—’
Pounce. Lips crash. Tongue invades. Hand grips crotch. Hardens instant. Terpentine stings nose. Coffee-perfume haze thickens. Fingers claw neck. Other unzips. Yanks cock free. Stiffens in palm.
Drop low. Legs splay. Gobble whole. Throat deep. No gag. Suck hard. Jerk shaft. Slurp. Vein pulses. Gland swells crimson. ‘Fuck, your mouth vacuum.’ He gasps. Mirror shows me devouring. Rideau gaps. Fuchsia lingerie dummy glows. Ladder waits outside.
Sense explosion near. Pull off. Lips pout. Cock throbs huge. Blouse frames it. Pubes curl. Sit shelf. Thighs wide. Grip bars. ‘Lick my cunt.’ Command snaps.
He kneels. Face to string. Tongue rubs fabric. Heat floods. Fingers part lace. Shaved mound. Plump lips gleam. Rip string down. Mouth latches. Tongue dives. Nectar flows. Gulp it. Greedy.
Fingers rub clit. Bell rings. Customer!
‘Tongue on button. Don’t stop.’ Hands crush head. ‘Pick lingerie, madame. One minute!’ Voice steady. Legs clamp. Mante grips. Lick soft. Circle pearl. ‘Yes… like that.’ Hiss. Climax builds. Printer whirs distant. Cum shudders. Muffled growl. Juice floods beard.
The Explosive Release
‘Wait.’ Adjust skirt. String dangles. Serve client. Drag him near. Fist cock. Pump furious. Back to wall. ‘Lovely choices, yes?’ Cadence steady. Cock iron.
Bell again. ‘Christine? Busy?’
Solange. Dry brunette. Glasses. Peeks curtain. Eyes cock. Grins.
‘Handle her. I finish this.’ Lift skirt. Guide tip. ‘Plow my pussy!’ Wet heat engulfs. Fourreau perfect. Thrust savage.
Nose buries tits. Scent overwhelms. Fingers knead ass. Mirror reflects cheeks clench. Solange watches. Lust gleams.
Gling. Client gone.
Finger probes anus. Intrudes slow. Eyes devour. Thrusts frenzy. Cum erupts. Seed floods depths. Rale rips.
‘To you. Still hot.’
Solange balances. Panties drop. But door clicks. Printer calls. Adjust garters. Skirt smooth. Semen trickles thigh. Smile pro. ‘Invoice Laurent. Come again.’
He staggers out. Zipper fights. I sip coffee. Perfume clings. Mouse clicks resume. Client meeting next. Facade cracks none. Buzz lingers. Regular now. Adrenaline pure. Pro day, hidden slut.