Printer hums in my home office. Click-click of mouse. Coffee scent mixes with my perfume. Sharp, needy. Étienne’s away again. Weekend bike ride with his pals. Ventoux this time. Four days gone. My pussy aches. No dick for weeks. His construction job drains him. Seminars, brainstorms. Bullshit. I’m boss of my graphic design gig. Work from this quiet neighborhood house. Ambitious. But starved.
I doll up anyway. Wax smooth. Pussy bald except landing strip. Tight jeans hug my plump ass. Low-cut tops flash side-boob. No bra. Strings ride my crack. Nothin’. He barely notices. ‘Great skin, babe.’ Then pedals off. Fuck him. I need cock now. Real meat. Not Roger, my buzzing vibe. Batteries killin’ me.
The Building Tension
Suzy texts. ‘Out with Manon? New club.’ Hell yes. Revenge fuck time. Shower hot. Hair in messy bun. Smoky eyes. Lipstick pops. Micro-skirt barely covers. Crop top bares belly, hints tits. No bra. Tiny thong. Uber to club. Hugs, giggles. RĂ©tro vibe. Jazz thumps low. Dim reds, blacks. Deep seats.
Three CRS cocktails. Rum burns sweet. Guys pounce. Viking for Suzy. Curly beard for Manon. Marcello for me. Dark Italian stud. Stubble shadows jaw. Drinks flow. Dance floor grind. His hard-on presses my ass cheeks. I twerk wild. Back room. He whispers Italian filth. Hand dives thighs. I’m soaked. Hundred percent humidity down there.
I yank his pants. Fat cock springs. Bells swing heavy. Condom ready. But nope. He spurts. Five ropes. Hands sticky. Belly splattered. Wall too. ‘Scusi.’ Fucker. Wipe up. Storm out. Tell girls I’m done. Uber home. Wobbly. Last CRS hits hard.
Office door locked. Keys? Dig purse. Candy, condoms, pepper spray, tampons, cards. No keys. Shit. Shake front door. Garage. Laundry. Salon sliders. Nada. Sit garden chair. Tears. Roof? No. Kitchen window! Étienne ignored fix. Lucky. Stones pile. Hoist up. Head in. Tits squeeze through. Ass? Stuck. Legs kick air. Skirt flips. Thong exposes.
‘Hey! Need help?’ Bernard. Neighbor. SNCF guy. Voice shaky. Laughs low.
‘Anick! Stuck. Push my ass?’
The Raw Explosion
Hands on cheeks. Spreads. Thong digs deep. Pushes. No go. ‘Pull you.’ Stones stack. Grips hips. Yanks. Thong slips down. Bare pussy.
‘Bernard!’
‘Too tempting.’ Tongue laps slit. Slow, deep. Fingers tease clit, ass. Coffee lingers on breath? No, my perfume mixes sweat. Printer whirs faint inside. I moan. Hips buck. Tongue fucks hole. Fingers plunge. Orgasm rips. Legs thrash. Free!
But clothes lost. Top inside, skirt out. He holds me. Cock nudges wet lips. Slides in. Easy. Stumbles on stones. Doggy in begonias. Hips slam. Pussy grips. Wet slaps echo. Garden dirt grinds knees. Opposite neighbor yells. ‘Shut up, cats!’ Shoe flies.
Don’t care. Build fast. Belly flutters. He growls. Pulls out. Cum stripes back. Hot ropes. I shudder. Peak hit.
He kisses ass. Helps up. ‘You’re amazing, Anick.’ Slips through window easy. Door clicks open. Kiss cheek. Pot of lily-of-the-valley next morn. Sweet.
Étienne back Sunday. Sweaty, beat. ‘Great ride!’ Begonias crushed. ‘Horny cats.’ Yeah. ‘Next trip? Alsace hills.’ ‘Sure. Chat gardening with Bernard.’ Wink inside. My influx flows. Hubby pedals. I bloom.