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From: Liliwriter <liliwriter@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 15 Sep 2003 17:39:00 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: {ASSM} Parisian Encounter (MF)
Date: Tue, 16 Sep 2003 04:10:03 -0400
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This is my first post. Criticism and/or comments are welcome and
very much appreciated. Send comments to liliwriter@yahoo.com
If you are easily offended, are underage, or if it's illegal to
read this where you live, this is not the story for you.
---------------------------------
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<1st attachment, "Parisian Encounter.doc" begin>
Parisian Encounter
By Liliwriter
I had found myself in Paris once again. At 23 years old, I'd
come back to Paris after visiting several times during my college
year abroad. I'd returned to experience the Continent with no
scholastic responsibilities and a sense of great freedom.
On that September morning, I threw on a pink cotton sundress with
thin silky straps at the shoulders. It buttoned to the waist and
fit snugly across the top to accentuate my full breasts. At 5'5"
with a 128-lb frame, I'm certainly not a waif but have large
C-cup breasts, a tapered waist that leads to lush hips and a
full, rounded ass. My body is toned but not obviously muscled. I
don't have the sexless, boyish body of those women who spend
hours at the gym. I have the soft, round curves of a woman who
takes care of herself.
I modestly added a white cardigan but left it unbuttoned so that
just a hint of my breasts was visible. I stuck out among the
throngs of black-clad Parisian women but with my long hair
cascading down my back, my strappy sandals, and my tight, lace
bra rubbing tight against my pink nipples, walking through the
streets of Paris I felt as sexy as I ever had.
After sating myself with art at the Louvre all morning, I took a
bench in the Jardin des Tuileries that afternoon. I divided my
time by reading Le Monde and watching les enfants playing among
the benches. It was one of those magical moments in life. It was
a cool, sunny autumn day, I was sitting in the shadow of the
Louvre as my honey-colored hair glistened in the golden Parisian
sun, and the world was beautiful.
A Frenchman took a seat next to me and made small talk about
what I was reading, then asked if I was a student. I told him I
was traveling with a friend from college and that I'd graduated a
few years earlier. My friend wasn't feeling well and that morning
I left her at the hotel while I set out to explore the city.
As a young woman in Europe, I was certainly used to being
approached by numerous men, and rebuffed most of them. But this
man had kind eyes and an easy laugh, so we talked. Jean-Pierre
was 28, medium height, with a quiet demeanor. He wore jeans, a
simple button down shirt with a black leather coat thrown over
it, and he was attractive enough - wavy, jet black hair, dark
lashes, and deep blue eyes that twinkled. He wasn't what you
would consider handsome, but he was sexy. Men can be incredibly
sexy without being terribly attractive. We spoke in a mixture of
French and English. During our conversation he caressed my
breasts with his gaze, and moved in close whenever I spoke in
broken French, as if studying my lips and hanging on each word.
My eyes wandered to his hands - large, perfect, masculine hands.
I jumped at the offer when he suggested we go to a cafe.
We walked 10 minutes past the Place de la Concorde onto a side
street and took a seat in a small Italian restaurant. We were the
only people there at the odd afternoon hour so the jovial owner
gave us all his attention. We had all the pasta and wine we
could handle, but aside from some hand-holding and sultry looks,
he was a perfect gentleman at dinner.
He let me practice my rudimentary French and I stumbled my way
through conversations about what I was doing in France, where I
was headed, where I had come from. Jean-Pierre wasn't from Paris
originally but moved there from a town outside of Lyon, and he
didn't have much of a life plan. That was no surprise. Men with
no life plan were always attracted to me. Maybe those of us with
no life plans just gravitate toward each other.
He explained, "I am finished with school and finding good work is
not easy. I love France and would never leave, but sometimes
it's frustrating. I feel like maybe I have worked for nothing.
So I work at a restaurant for now and I don't know where I'll end
up." We ended dinner with a coffee and a wink from the owner.
After dinner we walked for what seemed like forever through
Parisian streets that I could have lost myself in if I hadn't
been with him. A patisserie window caught my eye and while we
were evaluating the window display, he moved his arm to caress my
back and neck. The touch of his hand was soft and immensely
comforting. I turned my head to him as he ran his hand up under
my cardigan to caress my back and he moved to kiss me. It was a
soft, sweet kiss and when we broke I smiled and went inside the
shop.
We took some cream pastries to a bench near the Pont de l'Alma
and in between bites and kisses we watched the tour boats packed
with camera-toting tourists. His kisses were passionate and his
hands wandered through my hair, caressed my face, and held me
tight. I had learned long ago that in Europe, public displays of
affection were a way of life, and couples kissed, licked, and
practically fucked right out in the open with no shame or
modesty. We didn't draw a glance from any passers-by, even when
he reached one hand under my cardigan to cup my breast as the
other hand massaged my neck.
We kissed deeply and I moaned softly as his fingers teased my
nipple, his lips trailing down my neck, licking and sucking all
the way. I could feel the sweet juices running out of my pussy
onto my panties as I fantasized about the thick cock straining
under his jeans. Its outline was obvious and I had to stop myself
from touching it. As he nibbled my neck, I closed my eyes and
dreamed of teasing that cock between my lips, of him running it
down my body until he reached my damp mound...
I drew back and sighed, knowing where this was heading. Was this
going to be a stereotypical European fling? Did I even care? I
was young, unattached, in Paris, and this felt wonderful. I
didn't want to stop.
"Mmm, we can't do this here." I smiled. If we continued it would
be a matter of minutes before we were naked.
"Why don't we go to my house - it is quiet and we can relax. My
apartment is near Saint Michel, it's not too far." He raised his
eyebrows at my wide smile.
"No, I shouldn't. My friend is waiting for me... we're supposed
to go out tonight," I said smiling, hoping he'd coax me some more
before I finally gave in. I desperately wanted to go home with
him but coyly played the good girl.
He returned the smile and said softly, "There's nothing wrong
with wanting to be with me. Come on, let's go."
He finished his sentence by covering my lips with his, whispering
lovely French between soft kisses. The wine from dinner and the
flow of the Seine filled my senses and let me abandon all
inhibition. Tonight I was going to forget about what was right
and wrong and just let go. My friend was probably still sniffling
at the hotel. Why would I go back to that when Jean-Pierre was
mine for the taking?
We stopped at the small grocery he lived above and bought some
more wine before heading upstairs. His "apartment" was nothing
more than a one-room studio with an old, worn bathroom and creaky
floors. A large bed with baby blue and white sheets lay in the
corner near a tall lamp. In the corner were a sink and stove
that looked older than Louis XIV. His bookcase held tons of
interesting looking books in 2 or 3 different languages. He may
have had no sense of decor, but at least he was bright.
I looked out the small window with a view onto the street and
watched pedestrians and some cars go by; the noise was
distracting and the air was getting cool. He slipped off my
cardigan, kissed my shoulders, poured the wine. I turned on the
TV while I searched for the right words.
"I can't believe I'm here." I blurted out. He looked hurt as he
handed me the glass.
"Why, what's wrong? Don't tell me you're nervous. You have
nothing to fear."
"Well my friend is probably waiting in the hotel for me wondering
when we're going to dinner!" I said with a laugh. It broke the
tension and he assured me that she wouldn't miss me.
"She has probably gone out and is feeling guilty for leaving you
in the hotel room, right?" He moved closer and kissed me. There
was going to be no more small talk, no more wasting time with
come-ons and the other trite techniques of seduction. We both
knew why I had come back to his home, to his bed.
The wine on his lips and the softness of his tongue were
exquisite and I moaned lowly. He pulled me toward him and we
moved to sit on the bed. Slowly, with soft hands, he opened the
tiny buttons on the bodice of my dress until he found my breasts.
He kissed each one before undoing the bra clasp between my
breasts and cupping my bare breasts with his hands. I took
another sip of wine and held his head with one hand, guiding him
to my nipples. Gingerly he licked and nibbled the small hard
tips, teasing me, knowing I wanted more.
He took the glass from me, and I turned off the garish lamp. The
room was lit only by the pre-dusk sky streaming through the
window, and the glow of the small TV. My dress was unbuttoned to
the waist, nipples hard and wanting to be sucked, and I looked up
at him with an innocent smile. We fumbled with his shirt buttons
and jeans until he was nearly naked. I kneeled in front of him
to pull the boxers down his legs, and gave his half-hard cock a
teasing lick. He didn't disappoint, offering my hot tongue
another quick lick of his thick, 7-inch rod.
My hands moved up his body as I stood. I loved the feeling of
every inch of his warm skin yielding beneath my fingers. He
wasn't exceptionally muscled, but just fit enough to please me,
with strong legs and arms. Not content to be nude by himself, he
pulled the dress over my head and threw off my bra, leaving me
exposed except for my sandals and white silk panties.
He took me in his arms and we kissed intimately and hotly,
licking each other's lips and tongues and faces until our bodies
were burning. My hands traveled from his hair to his back, down
to his hard thighs and back up his flat stomach, purposely
avoiding his hardness. His hands landed under my panties and
skillfully caressed my ass, then my back as we devoured each
other with our mouths. He knew the importance of touching a woman
all over her body. How many men rush to pull off their partners
panties without caressing her body first. He knew that if you
touch a woman's body the right way she will beg you to fuck her.
His cock pressed insistently against my belly and I drew my hand
down to massage it. I pulled back the foreskin to admire the
wide purple head that I desperately wanted to suck. It throbbed
in my hand but before I could work on it, he took my hands and
gently pushed me down onto the bed.
I smiled appreciatively and sunk down into the soft bed, raising
my legs to him, knowing he wanted to touch me. His hands ran
from my thighs to my ankles, until he reached my feet. He untied
my sandals and slipped them off, licking and kissing each toe as
I squirmed from the delicate sensations. He then slid my damp
panties down my legs and buried his head between my thighs. With
an expert tongue he licked my shaved, smooth outer lips before
probing between them and rolling his tongue along my engorged
inner lips, stopping to gently suck on my sensitive clit,
whispering dirty things in French - things I didn't understand
but appreciated nonetheless.
The cream dripped out of my pussy, covering his face and tongue
until the pleasure got more intense and I felt my orgasm
building. I felt him insert a finger, then another, into my
tight, silky cunt. His fingers gently fucked me as his tongue
danced on my clit. I moaned loudly and pinched my hard nipples
while enjoying the feel of his soft tongue on me. I finally
pleaded with him...
"Jean-Pierre, now... maintenant! Je te veux, je veux venir..." I
purred. I didn't even know if it was correct French but he
understood. He understood that I needed his cock in me, that I
needed to cum and wanted him to feel my pussy clench his cock as
I came. He opened my thighs wide and with one stroke he pushed
that thick, hard cock all the way into me. He moaned as he felt
the soft, tight, wet walls of my pussy take in every inch of his
throbbing tool. I gasped as he stretched my pussy with deep
strokes, bringing the head to my clit every once in a while to
tease me. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and ran
my nails down his back, lightly scratching him as he dipped in
and out of my dripping cunt. His lips devoured my neck, nipples,
and covered my hot mouth while whispering nasty things in
alternate French and English.
I urged him on with naughty words of my own. "Jean-Pierre, make
me cum, I want you to feel me cum all over your cock," I
whispered to him as he sucked my neck.
He immediately quickened his pace, grabbing my ankles and raising
my legs high in the air as he pounded me. My hands held onto his
ass, coaxing him to fuck me harder and push me over the edge. I
couldn't hold back any longer.
"Mmm, fuck me! Fuck me hard! Yes! Uhhh yes, make me cum, I'm
going to cum!" I screamed with intense gratification as my pussy
spasmed with a delicious climax. As my pussy tightened around
him and I moaned with my explosive orgasm, he grinned at the
sight of me in intense pleasure. My pussy flooded with a gush of
hot juice and my body was burning hot. He growled and moaned
unintelligible things as he drove in and out of my sensitive,
soaked cunt, and closed his eyes tight as if to experience the
pleasure more intensely.
He urged me to turn over on all fours and took me from behind,
driving into me like an animal. I was in another world - I was
sensitive from my orgasm and the only thing that filled my head
was the exquisite feeling of being expertly fucked. I felt like I
was drunk with lust, that my head was swimming and I couldn't
control myself. I was sure that the neighbors heard my moans and
the fast creaking of the bed, but I didn't care. I didn't know
them and they didn't know me. This was all about pleasure, and
letting go of every inhibition.
"Plus vite, plus vite, plus fort!" I begged. My body violently
rocked with his movements, my moans exploding out of me with each
of his thrusts. I wanted a fast, hard fucking and he knew it.
His hands held my hips as I reached between my legs to caress his
balls and finger my clit. His hand slapped my ass hard and my
pussy responded with a fresh batch of sweet cream that dripped
onto his balls and down my thighs. The slapping sounds of his
balls hitting my skin and the feel of his cock drilling into my
wet hole made me hotter and wetter than I'd been in months and we
were both covered with my cream.
He grunted loudly as he neared his climax and hammered against my
cervix with hard thrusts. With a long groan he finally released
his load inside of me. I felt the familiar rush of hot cum
splashing against my insides and sighed in pleasure and
exhaustion.
He collapsed against my back, breathing hard, and held himself in
me long after the last spurt of hot cum had been ejected. When
he disengaged I lowered myself onto my stomach, letting our
mingled juices drip out of my sweet snatch onto the sheets. He
kissed me from behind and held me for a few minutes before
turning to nap. My hand wandered to my dripping slit. I was
close to cumming but stopped stroking myself. I wanted to wait
for the second round, because I was sure he'd be awake soon. I
nestled into the warm bed, playing the intense experience over
and over in my head.
It was dark when I awoke and I retreated to the bathroom to clean
myself up. He awoke when closed the bathroom door. He smiled
sleepily and beckoned me to come back to bed to lie with him. I
gladly complied and snuggled against his warm body. His strong,
warm arms enveloped me and held me tight to his hot body. We were
lying on our sides, face to face, snuggled closely together,
limbs entwined. "Mmmm, Lili, I am so happy you are here. You
are happy to be here, oui?" he whispered, half-asleep.
Did he want to hear the truth - that I was crazy with desire and
wanted to hole up naked in this apartment for a week? Instead I
just whispered against his neck "Oui, je suis tres contente," and
brought my hand down to play with his limp penis. He turned to
lie on his back and encouraged me when I moved my lips from his
neck to tease his nipples, then down to his navel and finally to
his awakening cock. I gave his thighs wide licks of my tongue and
kissed the soft hair around his cock as I took it in my hand and
slipped the foreskin back. I could taste myself still on him as
I took the head between my hot, thick lips and sucked gently. The
saltiness of his cum and my sweet honey mixed to create an
intoxicating, arousing blend of tastes that only encouraged me to
take his cock deeper.
One hand held the base of his cock while my tongue and lips
worked along the entire shaft, causing him to gasp and sigh with
pleasure. My hand took the place of my mouth and stroked him hard
as I licked his balls, taking each one in my mouth alternately
and rolling it around my tongue. I sucked and licked each one
deliberately before returning to his shaft. With my lips tightly
pursed around it, I deep-throated his cock, fucking it with my
mouth as he guided the back of my head. The head bounced off the
back of my throat, sending shivers through his body, causing his
cock to twitch between my lips.
I looked up at him seductively as his throbbing cock filled my
mouth. I let it slide in and out a few more times until I could
see that desperate look in his eyes. He couldn't stop now; he
needed to release. I gave the head one more lick and whispered,
"Now I'm going to fuck you." I moved my body up to straddle him,
caressing his body with my breasts on the way up. He sat up and I
lowered myself onto his willing cock. An eager smile spread
across his face, as if he were relieved to have the pressure of
performance off him. He groaned as my velvet slit enveloped him.
I slowly rocked on top of him while he sucked my nipples and held
me close, running his hands from my neck to my breasts, massaging
my hips, my ass, my legs. The feel of his hands massaging my back
while his cock stretched my tight pussy drove me wild and I
drenched both of us in my juices.
I rode him and squeezed his cock into me tightly with my muscles
until I felt my orgasm approaching. I urged him to lie down and
kissed his lips before lifting myself off of him. I placed my
hands behind me on the bed, leaned back, and moved my legs so
they were stretched out in front of me, my feet resting over his
shoulders. This new angle put intense pressure on my G-spot and
allowed me to fuck him fast and deep. My tits bounced with each
thrust and his hands furiously toyed with my pussy lips and clit,
which were in plain view. The noise outside the window had
quieted down and all I could hear was the wet slapping of our sex
and our groans as we rushed toward another orgasm.
He exploded before I did, again filling my womb with his sticky
cum. As his cock withered and slipped out of me, his fingers
found their way inside me and fucked me, his thumb rubbing my
clit. I sat up again straddling him, massaging my breasts as my
crotch was eagerly grinding into his hand. With a satisfied sigh,
I collapsed on top of him when my orgasm took me. Though not as
raucous as our previous encounter, it was just as intimate and we
held each other quietly for a long time until I broke the
silence.
"I have to go. My friend will wonder where I am." I didn't want
to leave. I wanted to make love to him all night long and lose
myself in his body, but my friend would be worried and I didn't
want to explain a night away from the hotel to her. He put up a
half-hearted protest and relented only after promised to take his
phone number and call him the next day. After I dressed, he
pulled on a T-shirt and showed me to the door.
"I'll see you tomorrow," he said at the door. He stuffed the
paper with his phone number into my hand. I smiled at him, left
him with a kiss, and ran down his steps, hoping to avoid any of
the neighbors who may have overheard us.
On the metro ride home, I debated whether or not I should see him
again. Why would I call him back? The sex was great, and I was
very sexually liberated. Yet something in the back of my mind
whispered that I had been a very, very naughty girl. And I didn't
want to spend the rest of my time in Paris on my back. Couldn't I
just let the night live in my memory as a fun diversion?
I climbed the metro steps and started the long walk back to my
hotel. I crumpled the paper with his number, threw it on the
ground, and shivered as I felt the last drop of his seed trickle
from my pussy.
<a href="mailto:liliwriter@yahoo.com">liliwriter@yahoo.com</a>
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