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First Sunday

Category: Mature
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I wiped the counter clean for the fourth time; making sure to eliminate any crumbs or marks that might have evaded my first three passes. I sighed and looked at the clock – again. Only two minutes had gone by since my last glance. I looked at my watch and, of course, it said the same thing as the kitchen clock. Quarter of one. Aurelie would be arriving in fifteen minutes, and she was never late.

I had always been fairly mellow about the passing of time. But at age fifty-five I had suddenly developed a rather odd fixation on time, at least when it came to my monthly arrangement with my new found friend. The closer our meeting time came each month, the slower time seemed to creep by. I glanced at the clock one more time, even though I tried not to, and then headed into the living room to sit by the window – and wait.


I suppose a little background is appropriate in order for the reader to get a sense of how my mini-obsession had come to be. My name is Robert and I’m a widower of five years. I’m a recently retired New York City school teacher and I now reside in the West Village. My beloved aunt had also passed away the year after my wife, and she had generously willed me her wonderful brick town house in a very tony area of the Village. The move from Queens had been an adjustment for me, but one I had accepted gladly. I had found it difficult to continue to live in the small house my wife and I had shared for the last fifteen years of marriage and the move to Manhattan had eased the pain significantly.

Yet, though the townhouse was in good order, the taxes were a strain for me and the building itself was much too large for my own modest means. So I took out a substantial home equity loan (underwritten by the quality of the property rather than my good name) and proceeded with some relatively major renovations to the three story structure: dividing the first and second floors into two efficiency apartments on each floor and renovating and retaining the third floor for my own use. By collecting rents on four studio apartments I was able to pay my monthly loan installment, as well as cover the substantial burden of New York City taxes. While I had gone into this venture with some trepidation, the overall result had been more than satisfactory. My renters covered my notes and I lived comfortably and in relative peace and quiet, ensconced in my sunny, high-ceilinged, and very private third floor unit.

I’d found early on that, if I charged a reasonable rent and was careful in choosing my tenants, I would be able to select from the cream of the crop of the many graduate students and young single professionals who swarmed into the West Village looking for reasonably priced accommodations — of which there were few. My units were always filled with reliable young people who respected my privacy, as I respected theirs.

My front tenant on the first floor had given notice in late July and I had advertised on Craig’s List and received my usual flurry of inquiries. I whittled the applicant pool down to four and invited them to visit the apartment and sit down for a short interview. It was during that weekend in mid August of last year that I met Aurelie.


I opened the window to the fresh May air and sat by the front window gazing down at the dappled sunlight through the locust trees. Somehow sitting by the window eased the passage of time as I awaited a knock on my door. Aurelie’s gentle knock never failed to give me goose bumps.

I had had some reservations at first about the arrangement Aurelie and I had agreed to. But, as the months had drifted by, I had come to look forward to the first Sunday of each month as a highlight of my sometimes lonely world. While I still filled my time with occasional substitute teaching, playing chess in the park and doing some tutoring, the pace and rhythm of my life was now marked by my monthly afternoon meetings with Aurelie. While I still dated on occasion, she had added a sensual dimension to my life that I had not dreamed possible, even during my twenty-four years of marriage.

I had wondered initially whether she found me attractive or not, but it became clear over time that she had a penchant for older and more experienced men. At 55 I was still in relatively good shape and had a full head of hair, though the jet black coloring from the Italian side of my heritage was now streaked with gray. Diet and exercise had kept my slender six foot frame looking much as it had in my younger days, and a strong jawbone and dark eyes had always been a hit with the ladies. So while I had acquired the patina of age, I liked to think it was more along the lines of a small batch bourbon aging in oak.

I glanced at my watch for the umpteenth time and was finally rewarded with good news; Aurelie would be arriving any minute. I hunkered down on my perch and filled my lungs with the fresh spring air.


Aurelie had been the second of the four potential renters I talked to that August weekend. She had knocked on my door at the appropriate time and I was immediately struck by her presence as she sauntered into my apartment. It was certainly her looks and demeanor that I noticed first. But as soon as she opened her mouth I also heard her lovely melodic voice and the sweet seductive sway and lilt of her French accent.

She was a third year undergraduate student studying English at NYU. She had attended two years of university in Aix-en-Provence before transferring to the States to continue her studies. While I tended to prefer graduate students as tenants, I had had a couple undergraduates over the past few years whose reliability and maturity had surpassed most of their peers. Aurelie, as I soon found out, would certainly fit into that category.

She was a lovely girl and had a simple, yet sophisticated, air about her that proved to be consistent and real. Her slender and statuesque figure had a certain feline gracefulness that I grew to love and cherish. She was of medium height with smooth pale alabaster skin and dark blond hair. Her beauty seemed to emanate from the combination and simplicity of her delicate features, as opposed to any single remarkable characteristic. Her dark brown eyes, square shoulders, slender hips and long legs were not particularly distinguished on their own (but still very nice); yet her overall aura seemed to be greater than the sum of her individual parts. There was a magical, captivating quality about her that I found alluring, sexy, and amazingly attractive. And, certainly, her youthful exuberance was a major factor in my attraction to her as well.

She also had the most amazing walk. Somehow the confluence of the sway of her hips, the tight twitching of her little bubble butt, and the confidence and grace with which she moved, combined to make her walk a mesmerizing event. It was sexual poetry in motion.

I had had very little female companionship since my wife’s passing, and what few women I had seen tended to be older dowagers and divorcees whom I seemed to have little in common with. Aurelie’s youthful splendor awoke a new energy in me that I hadn’t even known existed. Her presence in my life was much as the sweet May breeze that now blew through my third floor window as I smiled inwardly and awaited her arrival.


I had shown her the studio that August afternoon and relished the delight she showed as she twirled in circles, admiring the light and appreciating the coziness of the apartment. It doesn’t take long to tour a small one room studio plus bath, but Aurelie seemed to take it all in with a joy and smiling reverence that I found particularly endearing. Her quirky French phrases and smiling ebullience made me want to rent the apartment to her right then and there.

But once we started to talk money, a cloud passed over her lovely face. My heart sank with her diminishing spirit. The rent was a bit out of her price range and she wasn’t sure how she could handle the extra $400 a month over and above what she was currently paying. I shrugged at her dilemma, but said there was nothing I could really do about that; all the other tenants were paying the same amount. She nodded in understanding, but I could see the level of disappointment as the sunshine seemed to ebb from her sweet face. I felt crushed too.

I surveyed her furtively as we talked. She was dressed in the style of the students of today, but with an international flair. She wore flat ballet shoes, tight faded jeans that were rolled up once at the ankle, a loose fitting cotton shirt that hid the upper extremities of her figure, and a light green silk scarf draped casually around her neck. Her hair hung loose and informal and a small pair of stud earrings accented her lovely lobes. Walking down the street she would have fit in with all the other students gliding the sidewalks of lower Manhattan.

She departed that day with a flourish and a few final questions. “When would I be making a decision? Could she think on it overnight? Was there any room for negotiation?”

As much as I would have liked to have her as a tenant, a neighbor, and maybe a friend, it didn’t feel like things were going to work out. Plus I knew I had several other viable candidates whom I would see the next day. She bid me “au revoir” and bounced down the stone steps and off toward the park. I would have loved for things to have worked with her, but I also needed to be prudent with my own finances.

I was surprised, therefore, the next day when there was an unexpected knock on my door at mid-day. I had shown the unit to a young male student in the morning and was expecting my fourth and final applicant later in the afternoon. Who could it be?

I opened the door a crack to find Aurelie once again smiling across my threshold.

“Bon jour, Monsieur Robert. May I come in and speak to you, please?”

Now I’m not going to try and fool the reader with a fake written accent. But Aurelie, while very fluent in the English language, still had a strong, but very beautiful provincial French accent that made everything she said earthy and sensual. She could read the instruction for installing a dishwasher and it would be provocative, and a turn-on, at least to me.

“Why, yes, Aurelie. Come in. Please.” I couldn’t help but let a broad smile cross my face. I waved my arm inward as I held the door open. “Mademoiselle,” I mangled in my best high school French. She smiled at my sad attempt

I loved the way she would say my name. The “T” was silent and she pronounced it “Ro-Bare”. What had always sounded like a hard-assed Angolphile moniker suddenly seemed to have a poetic exotic flair.

With the door ajar, she swept into the room; a subtle waft of jasmine in her wake. I was immediately struck by the difference in her appearance. Gone were the street clothes and student garb; replaced by a subtly sexy and cosmopolitan ensemble.

Her hair, which yesterday had been loose, was tied casually, but carefully, above her head; errant strands framing her lovely face. Large hoop earrings dangled from her cute ears; moving dramatically with each twist of her head. She wore a tight blue floral skirt that hugged her lovely round ass and flared in loose ruffles just below her knee. A white shirt was tucked tightly into her waistband. The swell of her generous breasts, which had been largely unnoticeable yesterday, was on clear display. One too many buttons was left open and a lacy lavender bra peeked out from the first closed button, framing and forming just a hint of cleavage, which seemed to strain the top button. She wore high-heeled, open-toed sandals; the tapered wedge and height working magnificently to accentuate her slender physique and perfect calves. Newly pedicured feet peeked out from the open toes of her shoes.

I tried not to stare, but I know she caught me studying her presence and I could see her smile inwardly with a hint of satisfaction. She had dressed for a purpose, I had a feeling, and I was about to find out what it was. I finally cleared my throat and asked to what did I owe the pleasure?

“Is your wife not home?” she inquired, looking about innocently, but with a subtle twist of her luscious hips. My question hadn’t quite registered and she appeared slightly anxious.

“Well, no, Aurelie. My wife passed away five years ago, I’m sorry to say.” I looked to the floor, but felt her gaze.

“Oh. I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry.” A cloud of sincerity washed over her features.

She surveyed my space with broad quick glances and commented on what a nice apartment it was. I explained the renovations I had gone through and gave her a little history of the building and my acquisition of it. She smiled intently; her gaze locked on mine. The lack of a lurking female presence emboldened her to carry through with her plan. We talked in innocent generalities for a few minutes. Then, as I sat down in my comfortable leather chair, I saw her straighten and take a deep breath. I waved her toward a seat, but she shook her head. Whatever it was she had to say she wanted to say standing up — in front of me.

“Monsieur Robert. I would like to take the apartment. Please. If you haven’t rented it to anyone else yet?” Her voice lilted up in question. I felt my pulse quicken.

“No, I haven’t, Aurelie. But I thought it was out of your price range?” I replied, with an inquisitive lift of my brow.

“Well, it is. Or could be. But that is why I’m here, Monsieur. That is why I am here,” she said stated emphatically as she twirled in a flourish to face me head on; her eyes bigger than life.

I arched my eyebrow and leveled my gaze on her beautiful face. She wore just enough make-up to highlight her innate beauty.

“I would like to propose an arrangement with you, Monsieur Robert — one that will be mutually beneficial. I want very much the apartment. I love it. And you,” she said as she paused and looked straight at me, “are living a quiet existence alone. I would like to propose…” She hesitated and took a deep breath, building up courage. I felt the power of her beauty, of her intense presence, as her big brown eyes pleaded with me before she’d even put her proposal on the table. She continued.

“I am able to pay you the amount in my budget for housing – $400 less than your monthly rent. In exchange for the reduction in rent, I would propose that I spend one afternoon each month, preferably a Sunday, with you. An entire Sunday afternoon with just you, Monsieur,” she stated with emphasis, leveling her gaze, and then letting it drift south to my crotch. “I will be your friend, your confidant, your slave. I will do anything you feel like doing. Anything.” She paused for effect and then continued. “And, if you find me desirable,” her face become soft and serious as she lowered her voice to a whisper, “then I will become your lover.”

The smile was gone from her face; replaced by the most sensuous look I had ever seen on a woman’s face, at least in person. I felt blood surge through my body; into my head, and into my groin. An unearthly silence hung between us for a few moments as she waited for my reply. I was dumbstruck, but tried to maintain an air of knowing sophistication; as if I received such offers from lovely young ladies all the time.

My mind raced; trying desperately to process this proposal and the repercussions. The thought of money, rent, and deposits, was replaced with the gauzy notion of having Aurelie as a lover. I realized now why she was dressed as she was and I lost my shyness about looking at her. I surveyed her body with impunity and let me eyes graze over the soft curves of her luscious body as I pondered her offer. I saw a smile begin to curve up her cheek; a look of benign satisfaction, as she accepted my lecherous glances and turned slightly to let me absorb her from every angle. She placed her hands innocently behind her back, but that resulted in her breasts standing forth, so proud and soft. I still could not speak; all I could do was look. She decided to fill the awkward silence with the sweet lilt of her voice. She knew that, for the moment, she had the upper hand.

“I would come every first Sunday of the month, Monsieur Robert. We could talk or take a walk in the park. I would be willing to explore anything with you, Monsieur. I would be willing to give you my body — and my mind. I am young — that is obvious to you – and have only had three lovers. But they were magnificent lovers — all of them older gentlemen. They taught me, Monsieur. And I truly believe what I can offer you will more than make up for a few hundred dollars in your bank account. I assure you of that.” She hesitated, and then looked me squarely in the eye. “Please?” she whispered in question.

I had no doubt she would be more than worth that. I was still processing, still ogling, when she strode across the room toward me, her breasts bouncing tightly and subtly. She stopped in front of me, leaned forward and put her delicate hands on my slightly spread thighs. Her cleavage loomed close and her lovely perfume wafted through my nasal passages and directly into the pleasure center of my brain.

“Perhaps I could give you a partial payment of my first month’s deposit, Robert. Let me convince you of what a good idea this is.” Aurelie sensed that she had the upper hand in this one-sided negotiation and she was poised to take advantage. She was now bent over me, the slight sway of her cleavage completely in my face; the bulge of her upper breast jiggling ever so slightly. Subtlety had quickly been replaced by a burning, and obvious, sexuality.

“Okay,” I stammered. The first words I had uttered since her proposal and I could barely grunt in affirmation of her suggestion. It sounded like someone else had answered the question.

She grabbed a pillow from the adjacent sofa, threw it on the floor between my legs and pushed my thighs apart as she knelt slowly in front of me. I looked down at her lovely face and felt flush with excitement and expectation. She let her hands slide up and down my thighs and I watched as her gaze drifted down to the emerging bulge in my slacks. She smiled and looked up at me with a knowing glance. I could not believe this was happening — but it was.

“I have a feeling this is going to be a very lovely arrangement, Monsieur Robert. I promise you will not regret it. Let me show you. S’il vous plait?”

Her hand grazed over the stiffening bulge in my trousers and she cupped her hand carefully around its girth, watching me closely to gauge my reaction. I let out an audible and completely involuntary groan as she punctuated her soft strokes with a squeeze.

“Oh, Mon Dieu, Monsieur. You’re becoming very hard. What shall we do?” A devilish grin washed over her face as she reached up slowly and began to unbuckle my belt. She followed that by unsnapping the button of my slacks and then carefully grabbing my zipper. She was moving deftly and deliberately, but just slowly enough to make me ache for her touch.

“We could start every month just like this, Robert. Just like this,” she cooed as she seductively pulled the zipper toward her, her gaze riveted on the bulge she was slowly unveiling. Her hand slid below the flap and gave my now fully hardened cock a gently squeeze. “Just like this. Oh my,” she exclaimed as the suddenly realized the girth beneath her hand.

I thought she was just going to unleash my cock as it strained for the light, but she seemed to have other ideas. She grabbed the waistline of my trousers and boxers and pulled down as I lifted my ass off the leather cushion so she could pull my pants off. She leaned down, pulled off my loafers and socks, and then slowly slid my pants off each leg. The shirt tails of my white cotton shirt fell to the side and framed my erection, at full mast and bobbing with excitement. Aurelie smiled as she looked at my fully erect cock for the first time and brought her sweet face up against my shaft. She rubbed her smooth cheeks along the side, strands of her soft hair dragging along my stiff flesh; a sweet soft smile on her beautiful face.

She froze for a minute, her hands laid flat on the top of my thighs, and as she looked me in the eye with a wanton expression, she stuck out her tongue and began to lick the head of my cock. I couldn’t believe my eyes or truly comprehend what was happening to me. She waggled her tongue lightly over that supersensitive ridge just below the head of my cock as her hands moved up my thighs — one hand wrapping softly around the base of my shaft and the other moving to lovingly cup and lightly massage the tightening sac of my balls.

She wasn’t kidding when she’d said she was experienced. Whoever had taught her had done an excellent job of instructing her on the art of sucking a cock. I felt like the lucky beneficiary as she rose up, opened her mouth wide, and slowly descended her full lips over the bulbous head of my prick. The upper third of my cock glistened with her saliva as she began to bob slowly, making love to my stiff cock with her soft warm mouth. I was in heaven, but I sensed that she was too; her soft moans too genuine to be faked.

Suddenly she pulled off, gave my cock a few strokes and turned her open mouth sideways, as she began to descend, slowly licking and sucking her way down my shaft. She reached the base, but kept going, as her loving lips found my balls and I felt her suck and pull one tightly puckered ball, then the other, into her mouth. Her tongue swirled and sucked and the feeling was outrageous. I groaned in utter satisfaction as she sucked, kissed and licked my balls while absentmindedly stroking my cock.

Again she licked her way up, glancing into my eyes to make sure I was paying attention (how could I not?), before she once again engulfed my cock and began to suck in earnest. My shaft glistened with her saliva and the gulping slurpy sounds emanating from our union was the only sound to be heard beyond the light breeze blowing through the window. Her soft moans were constant now; interrupted several times by a choking gag as she inhaled a little more flesh that she could handle.

She now began a serious stroking and sucking motion and I felt that tightening, welling up feeling of an orgasm in the making. I began to breathe rhythmically and I could tell that Aurelie was determined to take my load in her mouth. I felt obligated to warn her, but I also felt her intensity and a level of determination that left no doubt about where she wanted me to come.

“Oh, Aurelie! Oh my God! I’m gonna come…” I stammered as I lifted my ass off the sticky leather cushion and she sucked with a force and depth that I had never felt before. My wife had never been into giving oral pleasure, so it had been years since I’d felt the glorious sensation of a hungry mouth so willing to drink me. This may have been the start of a financial arrangement, but there was no doubt whatsoever that this young lady thoroughly enjoyed what she was doing at that very moment. That knowledge, combined with the incredible physical sensation I was feeling at that moment, was enough to kick my impending orgasm into overdrive. She seemed to sense this as a pulsing sensation began to well up deep inside me. She doubled her efforts as she felt and heard my guttural groans.

Just as I was about to come she pulled off, opened her mouth wide, and stroked my cock with an expert grip and rhythm, looking me in the eyes with a submissive look of lust and anticipation. I screamed some ungodly sound as the first spurt crashed against the roof of her mouth, followed by another, and a third. Most of my spurts shot straight into her open mouth, with a few errant ropes striping her chin and neck.

Without missing a beat she worked her tongue and mouth madly about my groin, licking up every stray drop of semen before she smiled a huge smile, a few drops of hot white cum still on her lips, and swallowed it all with a flourish.

As I sank into the chair and my breathing slowly returned to normal she leaned down to clean my cock with her mouth and lick up the few remaining drops of cum. I thanked her as I stroked her soft hair and said her name.

“Oh, Aurelie. Oh, my God, young lady. That was amazing. I’m speechless.”

She smiled and said it was her pleasure.

“May I assume we have a deal, Robert?” How could I say no to this incredible offer? My mind raced at the prospect of what may lay in store for the both of us. I smiled and faced her.

“We do have a deal, Aurelie. We do. Thank you. So much.”

“Oh, Robert. That makes me so happy. She clapped her slender hands in a brief display of giddiness and her face almost burst with a broad smile. “I will move in next Saturday and return to see you on Sunday. We have much to explore — and I can’t wait”

She may have been throwing me a line, but at that particular moment, I didn’t care. In a week we would begin our agreement — and I really had no idea what was in store for the two of us. No idea at all.


The clock struck one and I smiled inwardly. I would hear a knock any moment.

Our arrangement had started in September and intensified each month as Aurelie and I hit our stride and found common ground. I came to find that Aurelie had an insatiable sexual appetite and over a period of months we established an intimate rapport and a monthly routine that satisfied us both and always left room for further discovery.

While our arrangement may have just been a convenient way for her to lower her rent, she never made me feel that it was just a monetary affair. Once we had established our protocol, her visits always seemed like a reconnection with a long lost lover or an innocent afternoon date that got out of control. She really did make me feel special each month, and I liked to think that I did the same.

While I was more than twice her age, I think I had a level of appreciation and a slow steady sexual pace that perhaps was missing in some of her younger paramours. She loved being adored and stimulated in a gradual build-up of extended foreplay and teasing. I took the time to find out what buttons she liked pushed, how often and for how long. I was totally tuned into her pleasure, and she mine. While it may have started out as a simple financial arrangement, over the months it became much more than that. And it was clear to me that this feeling went both ways.

I did find out more about her sexual history and was fascinated by her taste in men and lovers. She had previously mentioned that she had only had three lovers, but all three were serious boyfriends, and all were older men. Probably the one whom she seemed the most connected to, and spoke about the most, was her college English professor. She had studied under him (literally) her first year of college in Aix. He was married, in his late forties and had singled her out for special attention and instruction. This, of course, came as no surprise to me. Their academic relationship had developed into a romantic one, and despite their age difference and his marital status, they had carried on a wild sexual affair for just over a year.

He had taught her well, and I was, most assuredly, the beneficiary of his coaching and careful coital instruction. She was more than familiar with the geography of the male body, but was entirely tuned into her own body as well. I learned early on that Aurelie was highly orgasmic and was particularly adept at, and appreciative of, oral sex. But as much as she had learned in her short life to date, I liked to think that I could also teach her things, and she was always open to new ideas and exploring new positions, scenarios, and fantasies. Sex seemed so natural to her — and I began to believe that the French have a more open honest approach to sex in general.

I would, of course, run into Aurelie on occasion: entering or exiting the building or walking down the street in our neighborhood. Her sexy walk and quiet confidence never failed to catch my attention. But at those times she was polite and courteous, treating me as her landlord and giving no hint of the sweat-soaked sheets or animal groans of lust and fulfillment that might have accompanied our love-making only a few days earlier. It was the way we both liked it: outside my door our relationship was extremely polite and strictly business. But once she crossed the threshold that first Sunday of each month, we both stepped out of everyday life and seemed to synchronize on the same wavelength of unbridled and uninhibited sex.

Finally, I heard a knock on the door, and didn’t need to look at my watch again to know what time it was. Aurelie was never late. I opened the door and could not keep a broad smile from spreading across my face. There she stood, echoing my smile, and she quickly swept into my apartment, a lovely lavender scent trailing behind.

“Bonjour, Robert. Happy May!” She was truly a breath of fresh spring air.

“Well greetings to you too, Aurelie. I’m so glad to see you.” This was a pure understatement.

She was dressed in a summery fashion, a long loose white skirt that hugged her little behind so pertly, a tight red tank top that showcased the fullness of her bosom, and a pair of open toed sandals that had a slight heel and gave magnificent lift to her slim calves. Her hair was loose and flowing.

She held out a lovely bouquet of flowers and I accepted them happily.

“You’ve been shopping, I see,” I responded as I filled a vase with water and set the flowers in, spreading and arranging them delicately.

“Oh yes. I have been shopping today. And I bought you a present.”

I glanced up from the flowers and perused her face. “Did you now?”

“I did. Do you want to see what I bought you?” she asked seductively.

“What do you think?” I replied.

She swung her hips and looked at me with a saucy look. “Actually, I’m wearing it”, she added with a flick of her hair.

“Are you really?” I added, now getting somewhat intrigued. “It’s a present for me, but you’re wearing it? Hmmm. What could it be?” I queried with false amusement and understated excitement.

“Mmhmm,” she smiled. “Yes I am.” She paused. “Would you like to see?” she added with that cute French inflection on the question.

“Only if you show it to me right now, Aurelie.”

She grinned confidently, put her purse down and turned away from me, leaning against the kitchen table. I sat down a few feet away. She turned her head to look over her shoulder at me, smiling impudently, and continued to lean on one arm as her other hand reached behind and began to slowly pull up her long white skirt. She inched it up seductively, slowly exposing her long slender thighs — so smooth and hairless. Her legs were slightly parted as the hem of the dress made its ascendance, and I hunkered down low for the show to unveil. She had been in my apartment for all of five minutes and already I was breathless with anticipation.

Two things I had learned about Aurelie over the months she’d been visiting: she loved wearing nice lingerie and she loved showing off her wonderful body. It was a killer combination, but not surprising either; they did go hand in hand. I, of course, was a willing and enthusiastic observer and I encouraged her pursuit of both.

As she pulled the dress up and over her tight round ass, I saw the impossibly thin strips of a thong converge over her ass into one tiny strip of material that nestled snugly into the deep groove between her ass cheeks. A narrow piece of magenta silk expanded slightly and barely covered the tight puffy bulge of her labia; so rounded and succulent. I drew my breath in as she moved her hand from her dress to her ass. She lifted one tight cheek just slightly, but enough to let the narrow strip of silk nestle tightly into her slick groove.

“Do you like the color, Robert?” she mused.

“Oh, Aurelie. You are so beautiful,” I stammered. The lovely image before me was truly astounding. She knew she was beautiful; how could she not? But her unaffected demeanor made it all the more provocative and alluring.

“Merci, Robert,” she whispered in a husky voice.

Her fingers joined the string of her thong, which had now disappeared between her glistening lips. She spread her slender labia and let me gaze at the delicate flesh of her moistening pussy. The light pink tone was accentuated by the gathering dew that shone so seductively. I felt my face, my whole being, being pulled in by some sensuous magnetic force.

Her long slender fingers scooped in and hooked the thin wet material of her thong; the slight sliver of wet silk barely covered the slender bulge of her exquisite pussy. I now had full and unfettered access to her dripping treasure. I moved in slowly, placing my hands gently on the back of her thighs. I kissed the smooth cheeks of her ass, before my tongue began to gently probe the delicate furls of her pussy lips. She groaned, as she always did, at my first oral foray into her dewy depths. She had the most sensitive lips and I was always careful to take my time on my journey to her throbbing little clit. I could drive her crazy with my tongue, and each time I tried to prolong and enhance the pleasure she obviously derived from my oral display of affection.

I slipped my tongue into the crease between her outer labia and her thigh; exposing the delicate folds and licking up the gathering juices. I heard her gasp as I kissed the smooth skin of her ass cheeks, my mouth quickly finding its way to the slender ridge of her inner lips, protruding seductively in her bent over position

I ran the tip of my tongue the length of her gloriously wet slit; tasting her essence and licking the gathering dew off her glistening pink flesh. Lord, she tasted and smelled so good. My mind reeled at the incredible view and the moans of pleasure my oral exploration was eliciting.

I used my hands to spread her ass cheeks wide and my tongue probed deep into her slick recesses. I was lost in her smooth delicate skin and the gushing flow of her womanly liquids. My thumb found her little clit, folded tightly into the vee of her gaping labia and I circled it expertly, with just the amount of pressure I knew she loved, as I licked and probed the tight sphincter of her ass and then slipped back down into the widening flaps of her gaping cunt. As my thumb slipped into her depths, she arched her back and turned her head to gaze at me.

“Oh Mon Dieu, Robert. You know just how I love to be touched and licked. Don’t stop!” she whispered.

I leaned back and looked at this amazing beauty, skirt over her waist, legs spread, thong shoved to one side, her pussy pink, gaping, and dripping with excitement, evident from the shining wet skin on the inside of her thighs. I slapped her ass once, really hard. She gasped.

I had found over the months that Aurelie had a penchant for a little pain; not too much, but enough that occasionally slapping, biting and pinching seemed to turn her on and bring her to the next plateau of excitement. And she seemed to particularly respond when it came unexpectedly. Her guttural groan, as I slapped her tight little ass, told me she was ready for our next step.

“Turn around, Aurelie. Show me. Show me everything, baby!”

She responded to my command with a willing smile, as she twirled in place and removed her skirt in a flourish. She leaned back on the table, pulling her tiny little magenta thong to the side and looking at me with a mischievous grin as she used the vee of her fore and middle finger to spread her pussy. She knew her vulva was a thing of beauty and she loved to show it off and never seemed to get tired of the praise I heaped upon her.

“Aurelie, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I croaked as I began to palm my own growing excitement. She seemed to enjoy the direct link between the slow exposure of her body and the erection she loved to cause.

She moved her hands and fingers over her sex, taking pride in my response, but also getting more and more turned on as her middle finger began to dip below the surface. I listened intently to the slippery sticky sounds of her juicy lips as they parted and yielded to her probing digit. I needed to move to the next step, and also knew she had a secret desire to be directed in her actions.

“Stand up, Aurelie. I want you to take your clothes off,” I commanded.

She immediately stood up and disrobed what little was left, taking her time removing her bra and exposing her lovely breasts. She knew how much I loved this part. She unclasped her bra, and then held it in place, palming her breasts with a devilish smile before letting the cups fall forward to expose her luscious tits. She delighted in the reaction this always produced. I oohed and aahed and gushed my appreciation and lust. She was now naked except for her thong, still askew, and her high-heeled sandals. She supported herself as she slid the impossibly small thong down her long limbs and straightened to stand for my inspection.

“Ahh, Aurelie. You are such a lovely mademoiselle.”

My awful attempts at incorporating a French word or two never failed to elicit a cute giggle or bring a little smile to her face. She looked at me with a gathering fire in her eyes and cupped her soft round breasts. With both hands she squeezed and lifted her breasts for my inspection; both inches from my face.

“They need your suck, Monsieur Robert. Please?”

She fed me her stiff right nipple, holding her full breast up from underneath, and offering me the hard tip – so delicate and lovely. My tongue twirled around it, wetting it generously, before I pursed my mouth in a big circle and sucked the whole end of her puffy nipple into my mouth. I sucked softly at first, but with increasing intensity, as my right hand wandered up her taut thigh and my middle finger entered her slowly and intently as I sucked. She groaned as she grabbed my head and pulled me into her bosom. I switched to her other breast and entered another finger, beginning a nice slow flinger fuck, my left hand squeezing the tight globe of her ass cheek. I was lost in her body and she was lost in her pleasure.

She clutched my head to her breast as she groaned loudly and bucked her hips to meet my manual intrusion. I had always prided myself on the use of my hands in lovemaking. Some women seemed to appreciate it more than others, but Aurelie was definitely in the hand lover’s category. As the flat of my tongue lavished her distended nipples with attention, my hand was busy deep inside her, my fingers curled back and rubbing her g-spot in rhythm and time to my tongue. Her hips rose up and down with my pace and I could tell she just wanted to envelope we with her body. It was most definitely time to move our Sunday afternoon activities to the bedroom.

I withdrew my fingers and she knew what was next. She grabbed my hand and began to drag me down the hall to my bedroom in the rear. It looked out onto a lovely locust tree and the garden below. The windows were wide open and a soft breeze caressed our nakedness. I watched her tight little ass twitch as I followed her lead. She let go of my hand a few feet from the bed and dove onto the mattress with a giggle, turning in mid-air to land on her back. Her jovial mood changed immediately and as her bouncing form came to rest. She slowly raised and spread her legs, lifting her hips up as she offered me her fully flowered pussy.

“Come to me, Robert. I need you. I’ve missed you.”

Aurelie planted her feet firmly into the mattress with her head against the pillow and lifted her hips, offering me her sex. There was something so incredibly hot about this position: her smooth mound protruding forth, the succulence of her inner lips on full display and her hands flat against her inner thighs, framing her pink center. With her back arched and her cunt bursting open I was hard-pressed to do anything other than accommodate her request.

Aurelie’s pussy was truly a sight to behold. In more modest poses it hid its succulent allure in a tightly folded slit of smoothly shaved skin. But when she chose to expose herself; when she let the pink floral quality of her labia bloom forth, her tight little pussy was a thing of great beauty — perfectly proportioned, open and inviting — as if it had one, and only, one purpose: to lure a man into the juicy crevices of her treasure.

In any case, it surely did a number on me. I placed the palms of my hands underneath her tightly clenched ass cheeks and brought her arched pelvis toward my hungry mouth. I had always prided myself on being a quick learner when it came to how a woman likes to be touched and eaten. I’d learned Aurelie’s hot spots very early on, as she was not shy about telling me exactly what she liked and how she liked it. Once I knew the basics of her stimulation, I’d gotten creative and expanded my repertoire, eventually eliciting a statement from her one afternoon that I ate her pussy better than any man she’d ever met. As you can imagine, that comment brought a smile to my face.

So as I leaned in to devour her sex, she cooed one of her favorite French phrases: “Lechez ma chatte.”

My high school French had taught me the words for bus, apple and table, but I don’t recall ever having to translate “lick my pussy” on any of my oral exams. Every so often Aurelie, in the throes of an impending orgasm, would begin to talk in a rapid fire French, punctuated by deep moans and short breaths. I loved it when her native tongue took over in response to my twirling tongue and probing fingers. And in each session I would learn a few more words of love in the French language.

She liked me to kiss her anywhere but her clit to start. I’d slide my tongue along the furls of her labia, taking a detour up and over her mound to avoid the sensitive nubb of her center. But eventually the effect of my long tongue strokes and open lipped kisses elicited low moans and a grinding of her pelvis that told me that, shortly, I’d be tightening the perimeter of my oral explorations to find the tight swollen flesh of her clitoris. Sometimes it was a subtle coming together of her mouth and my pussy at just the right spot; other times she grabbed my head with both hands and steered me right to her little fleshy core.

Once I had zeroed in on her stiffening clit, I’d begin a relentless oral assault that almost always ended with her pulling my head and mouth into her innermost place as she bucked her hips and ground her vagina into my face. As her breathing became rhythmic and her hips moved in synchronicity, I’d keep up a steady pace of tongue, lips and fingers until I heard her scream: “Je jouis!! I’m cuming!!”

Those words were music to my ears and always a delight to my taste buds. As her nectar oozed out of her splayed lips, I licked her juices and let her back down softly onto the bed. We cuddled as she recovered, but I knew I needed to gird up my energies for what was to come. We were only getting started.

She always needed a few minutes to recover from her first orgasm of the afternoon, but inevitably her hand would wander down to my nether reaches and gently palm me, bringing me back to full erection if I might have flagged just a little. The feeling of my stirring brought her back to life and she hopped up on her knees, pushing me back on the pillows.

“Lie down, Robert. I want to ride you, baby,” she cooed.

Why is it, I wondered to myself, that things sound so much sexier when whispered in a foreign accent? Clearly not enough research had been done to delve into this important phenomenon. But I surely knew it to be true. Aurelie could read from the phone book and it would stir me.

I lay back and she kneeled between my spread thighs and took my resurrected cock into her mouth. She kneaded my balls softly with one hand while she lightly gripped the base of my shaft with the other and began to bob her warm mouth up and down, bringing me back to maximum strength. She gazed up at me with her beautiful eyes as she inhaled my girth and made me slick with her saliva. She pulled off and jerked my cock with the perfect grip and speed, getting the pump primed and ready for action.

“Oh, Robert. I love your thick cock, baby. I can’t wait to ride you,” she explained as she straddled me and guided my stiff member toward her snug little opening. I never got tired of entering her for the first time in our sessions.

I ran my hands up and down her arms as she positioned the bulbous head of my cock right at the entrance to her tight little hole. Once she felt I was in the perfect position, I felt her weight come down and her snug vagina yield to accept my prick. The first inch or two never failed to elicit gasps of excitement and quick little French expressions. I watched in awe as her precious flower opened to accept me; my veiny member stretching her labia and disappearing deep inside her body. My hands found her wonderful natural breasts and I played with their soft texture and the gathering tightness of her small hard nipples as she began to slide up and down my hard flesh pole. Her moans became the sound track for our love-making as she braced her hands on my shoulders and began a steady descent, impaling herself slowly, but surely, on my rigid cock.

“Oh, Mon Dieu, Robert. It feels so good. Ohhhh!” she exclaimed as she closed her eyes and began to ride my dick. As her lubrication kicked into overdrive, gravity assisted in her steady absorption of my length. Soon she was bouncing up and down and the tight slippery envelope of her vagina walls was bringing me incredible pleasure. She switched from an up and down motion to a back and forth grind, as I used my hands to work her rhythm and control the depth. I’m not sure I had ever seen a sexier sight that Aurelie totally consumed with and focused on my dick, tightly ensconced in her body.

From below I began a steady thrusting that took her by surprise and caused her to pause in her assault. I had enjoyed her aggressive display of unbridled sexual intensity, but experience told me she was ready for me to steer the ship and take control. In a move that would have made a younger man proud, I flipped Aurelie onto her back without disengaging or missing a beat. I resumed a pounding steady rhythm, then gradually picked up the pace as I became the dictator of the speed and intensity.

And while I knew Aurelie liked to be on top at times, I also knew how much she loved to be taken and fucked with abandon once she was primed and ready. I collected her knees in the crooks of my elbows, leaned forward so my cock was thrusting straight down, and began to fuck Aurelie just the way I knew she loved it: with me in control and her absorbing the thick hard thrusts that soon had us both grunting like dogs in heat.

“Oh, Robert! Fuck me! Oh my God! Oh, oui, baisez-moi! Baisez-moi!” she screamed, as I pounded my dick into her with increasing speed and depth; our pubic bones bouncing and grinding against each other with each deep descent. She began to moan in rhythm to my pace and previous experience told me that she was close to coming. I felt my own juices welling up for deliverance, but knew I could time my release with hers. And as our fucking reached that primal stage where nothing exists outside a single cock and a single cunt coming together as one, I felt her inner walls begin to clench and spasm as I timed my release and delivery with her. Spurt after spurt after spurt of hot cum exploded into her tight French cunt and her gaping silence gave way to a long animalistic moan that signified the completion of our union.

Suddenly our breathy groans and sweaty bodies gave way to sighs of satisfaction and a realization of what we had just done. Aurelie began to giggle, as she often did after sex; out of a slight sense of embarrassment, but a larger sense of relief.

“Oh, mon Dieu, Robert. You are so amazing.”

“So are you, Aurelie. So are you.” I paused. “Thank you,” I whispered into her ear, words that only she could hear.

She hugged me tight and I withdrew my flagging cock and snuggled up against her warm body. She was a cuddler and I was happy to oblige in that department. As much as I loved fucking this amazing French beauty, holding her post-coital in my arms gave me a sense of satisfaction that was hard to fathom. It seemed to validate our sexual union and transform the act into a quiet bonding of our souls.

We talked for some time as we recuperated and rested — and then made love once more on that wonderful Sunday — a long slow deep doggie as she knelt face down on the bed, her face mashed into my pillow. Oh, I loved to fuck this woman.

And as she dressed to leave a few hours later, I watched as she reversed the seduction and went from being a wanton slut to a demure international co-ed; one of thousands walking the streets of this fair city.

“Au revoir, mon Cherie,” she whispered as she leaned over to bid me adieu with a soft kiss.

“Good-bye, Aurelie,” I replied. I sighed as I always did when the dead bolt made its thick latching sound. I looked at my watch and smiled with the realization that it was a calendar I needed to calculate her next visit, not a timepiece. I smiled as I felt the soft May breeze on my bare skin and buried my face in my pillow, still fresh with her scent. I fell asleep hoping to wake up four weeks from now. I drifted off into a deep French slumber.

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