When she'd first approached him, Geoffrey had declined her offer, but that had been when she was facing him.
"Eh, Englishman, you like good time, no?" she'd asked, and he'd politely declined.. But she'd shrugged, not much caring, and turned away. Her ass had thereby been revealed, and Geoffrey was instantly stricken by desire.
He called her back.
"I have reconsidered," he said.
"Ah, bien. I show you good time. Much better than cold English women, English roses, ah ha."
"Now, now, my dear. We mustn't be prejudiced," he'd told her, knowing full well that English women were as lusty as any on earth.
"You like French girls, yes? Good, do everything, have fun. Not like English women with cunt like steak and kidney pie, eh? Women with the twat like cold fish and chips, ah ha. French women have the cunt like... like... like the fist. Clamp, suck, slurp, ahhhh..." Monique seemed to be getting carried away, and heads were turning. "Like haute cuisine, taste good. You like eat, eh? That is good. We both eat, half and half, I do for love as soon as you pay me one hundred francs."
Pouncing upon him, the French beauty began tugging at his zipper. She was snorting, her nostrils flaring wide, her face rather primitive for his tastes.
But there was that magnificent ass to consider.
"Very well, my dear," he told her.
He gave her ten pounds.
She looked suspiciously at the alien currency, sniffed it, seemed about to bite it, as if it were a dodgy gold coin. Then she shrugged.
"Is good. You come now."
And, frightfully embarrassed, his collar drawn up and his hat pulled down, Geoffrey had allowed himself to be led from the nightclub.
In Monique's sordid little room above an all night cafe, she tore her clothing off and flopped on the bed. Geoffrey undressed slowly, neatly folding his garment sand leaving his socks on. He left his bowler hat on, too, but that was merely an oversight. With Monique face upwards on the bed, her ass hidden, he began to have regrets. It really won't do, old man, he told himself. Quite likely she will prove diseased, surely in her passion she will leave tooth and nail marks which dearest Marla will discover, whatever have I got myself in for?
He fingered his old school tie, just about deciding to dress and leave.
Then, squirming in her impatience, Monique rolled over and her heaving bottom was revealed.
Geoffrey croaked, his throat heaving like a bullfrog's, as he was once again confronted and mesmerized by the splendour of her nether portions. Neither shame, nor guilt, nor English inhibition nor dread foreboding could stand against the devils of desire instilled by that comely ass.
Geoffrey sighed and joined her on the bed.
Monique plunged into his arms and tried to kiss him. Her big melon shaped tits flattened like spongy cushions against his narrow, hairless chest and her meaty thighs clamped like a velvet bear trap around his lean leg. Geoffrey tried to avoid her lips. In that regard he had much the same attitude as his wife, and would have considered kissing another woman more sinful than fucking her, since it carried implications of love or, at least, affection, whereas unembellished screwing was merely a quest for physical release.
"What, you no like to kiss, you cold Englishman? I will warm you up," she said. Her long nailed fingers seized his prick and she pulled him roughly.
Geoffrey yelped.
He looked down, fearing she would tear his dick out by the roots, and for a dreadful moment he thought she had already hooked her talons into him and that he was streaming with blood, but then, with a sigh of relief, he saw that the red was only her fingernail polish.
"Steady on, old girl," he said.
"Old? Old? I not old. You are English pig."
"Just an expression..."
"I no like expression, old. I young."
"Quite, yes."
She yanked his dick mightily but only succeeded in causing it to shrivel as he feared for his manhood.
"Oh oh oh. You are like the eunuch," she sneered.
"Be patient."
"Ha! What you think, you think I stuff it up soft, eh? That no good. Cock get bent, double over, shoot all over your balls, ha, ha. You get hard, quick, we fuck and suck, come on, come on, I no got all night."
Geoffrey squirmed, feeling trapped. Desperately trying to find motivation for arousal, he moved his hands behind her and cupped her protruding bottom. Instantly, due to his inclinations, his organ began to grow.
"Ah, better, that better. But I can't wait all night, no, I too lusty, I get too excited. You eat pussy first, you give head while we wait for cock to get hard, yes?"
"Certainly not," Geoffrey cried.
"Certainly yes!" she shouted.
She pushed him onto his back. His hands were tom from her ass and, by direct result, his dick began to soften again. He tried to rise but she hovered over him, holding him down. With a terrible sinking feeling, Geoffrey realized that she was stronger than he was; that he was helpless, a fly hopelessly ensnared in her carnal web.
Monique swung her legs up and open. Seizing Geoffrey by the ears, she pulled his protesting face directly into the great sodden swamp of her crotch.
He tried to turn his face away, but she pulled hard on his ears and he yelped in pain.
"You suck," she cried.
Geoffrey had no choice. It seemed a clear case of suck or be de-eared. With visions of terrible, wasting diseases lurking in her steaming grotto, he began sucking her cunt. Her fat thighs closed over his head and her belly heaved and bucked. She cried out, then began a series of barking exclamations followed by a stream of gutter French. Ripe cunt juice filled his mouth and coated his face and chin, a redolent flow not unlike Stilton cheese.
Geoffrey, who was inordinately fond of ripe cheeses, began to think this was not such a bad fate after all. His tongue flashed up and down her smouldering volcano and he mouthed the foam flecked labia.
"Oh. Oh. Oh. Very good, very fine tongue, I come now, oh, yes, I coming, ohhh."
Geoffrey had heard that whores usually faked orgasm, but Monique was flowing so heavily that deception seemed unlikely. She fell back on the bed, clawing at the filthy sheets and heaving her hips upwards. His hands slid under her ass again and, at the contact with those smooth and wonderful globes, his cock sprang out like a bull charging into the corrida, one homed and single of purpose.
He pulled her higher, so that her ass was completely off the bed. His head slipped down, mouth departing from her flowing pussy and, acting through impulse, without thought, knowing only his own driving desire, he began rimming her with stabbing tongue-strokes. His tongue ran easily up her asshole and his lips worked on the rim. Monique was surprised and for a moment failed to react, then she began writhing in ecstasy.
"Oh, you naughty Englishman, Oh, I like naughty English habits, ooooh, filthy pig English habits, so good, dirty, dirty, shit eating English, make feel goooood!"
Geoffrey was beside himself, his erection booming and thundering.
Despite his inclination toward bottoms, he had never actually sucked a woman's rear. It had never, somehow, seemed quite the proper thing to do certainly not the way an Englishman behaved. But now, with this foreign woman, his reservations were melted and consumed by the heat of his desire.
Pulling her ass even higher, he rose to his knees and thrust his belly forwards. The blunt snout of his dick banged accurately against her sodden pussy lips. He expected an easy entry and a quick thrill, but Monique's cunt was talented as well as comely. The hole spread, allowing his cock head to slip in with great, slimy easy.
"You like doggie style, eh? That all right, I like, too. You give me plenty of cock like dog, quick, quick..."
Geoffrey braced his knees and lunged.
His prick rode into her to the hilt, his balls banging against her. Her legs hooked around his flanks and her cunt went to work on him in some arcane, reverse peristaltic action, drawing him in as if she were digesting his cock from the wrong end of the cycle. He had on
e fearful moment when he wondered if her powerful stomach juices wouldn't reduce his proud member to a lump of semi-putrid meat, but it felt too good to worry about being digested and he began to ram the prong up her with wild abandon. It felt as if he must be plunging all the way up through her intestines, past her stomach, into her throat where she was giving him a blowjob from above. They banged savagely together, skidding all over the bed.
Monique, not wanting her cunt to want for anything, began clawing at her vulva with both hands, uttering guttural cries of primitive ecstasy.
Geoffrey, hotter than he'd ever been before, fed the meat to her squishy pussy with dynamic thrusts.
Then he stiffened and shoveled it up to the very roots as his orgasm came spurting out, filling her with a brimful of scalding spunk.
He was so hot that every last ounce of cream burst from his pussy plunger in one mighty explosion; his bottom raker spent itself in one tremendous geyser and, instantly diminishing, slipped from her quim.
Geoffrey flopped down, exhausted and happy, admiring the way his discharge bubbled from between her thighs.
"You so naughty," she said, with a contented smile.
She crawled toward him.
"I clean you up now," she said, and popped his shrinking and soiled dick into her ruby-red lips.
"Oh, I say!" he started to protest.
But Monique slurped merrily away, cleansing the residue of cum and her own juice from his stalk, and he said, "Jolly good show," and thought that there was a lot to be said for foreigners, when all was said and done.
Later, while he was dressing, Monique said, "you always poke up from behind, yes?"
"Good heavens, no. I don't know what got into me. I never did that before."
"No? What a waste, what a shame. Your cold English wife no like the dog fuck, eh?"
"Certainly not. Marla would never entertain any such thoughts."
"See? French women better."
"Well..."
She did have a point, he thought. Many times he'd wanted to suggest to Marla that they try doggie-style fucking, or at the very least to give her trim little nether hole a good tonguing, but he'd always been too embarrassed and fearful of her negative reaction. It was too bad and a damnable shame and all that, but he simply had to be unfaithful if he was going to enjoy those pleasures.
Ah well. What Marla didn't know wouldn't hurt her, and would most certainly save him from that sort of embarrassment.
Geoffrey, his lust sated, was already beginning to feel guilty over what he'd done.
But not that guilty.
He arranged to see Monique again, the next time business called him to Paris...
CHAPTER FOUR
If Marla had made that phone call at that moment instead of giving her clitoris a good tooth brushing, the ring would have found James Blackburn at a most inopportune moment. He wouldn't have answered it, but it might well have proved an unwelcome distraction, and it wasn't a good idea to lose one's concentration at such times, when one was assisting in the just vengeance of a wronged wife.
Susan didn't really look vengeful, he thought.
She slid down from her perch on his chest until she was straddling his legs and, as she gazed down at the prominent upheaval of his trousers, her countenance was bright with emotions other than revenge; with expectations of more than vendetta. For some time she did nothing more, content merely to gaze at the promised blessing and anticipate the pleasures lurking, but not hidden, beneath the fine material of his well cut but, at present, misshapen trousers. Then, with a shy smile, she reached out and tentatively laid her hand upon the shrouded lump.
Blackburn's organ flared like a Roman candle, the fat and explosive tip exploding at the end of the thick, combustible wick of the shaft.
"Ummm," she said.
She played with his zipper, pulling it down an inch or two, pulling it back up, pulling it down a bit farther, while he seethed with impatience. Then she drew it all the way down and, unbuckling his belt, opened the whole front of his trousers. His expensive briefs which were very fashionable being eggplant colored were heaved up in a tremendous bulge. Giggling, Susan daintily grasped the elastic waist band between thumb and forefinger and lifted, then drew them down. His cock, free of restraint, roared upright and stood like a fleshy monolith above his belly; a carnal Stonehenge rising from the flat plain of his loins.
Susan settled back and admired his erection. Tilting her head, she studied it from all angles, obviously fascinated by structure; perhaps wondering how he had managed to erect it without the help of heavy machinery. It was a splendid organ, long and thick and dark-veined, the knob a flaring wedge of purple meat almost the same shade as his eggplant colored underwear and, she thought, perhaps wishfully, damn near as big as that delightful vegetable.
"Gee, you're as big as my husband," she said.
He took it as a compliment.
Susan pulled his briefs lower, tucking them beneath his scrotum so that the whole of his formidable sexual tackle was exposed. His bollocks were in proportion to his cock, great bloated sacks of hairy flesh obviously filled to the brim with turbulent nectar, and his matted loins were fertile earth from which the great stalk of his manhood could grow tall and bloom gloriously.
A huge smile spread across Susan's impish face as she realized she was not to be disappointed; that, by abandoning her errant husband, she had not been cutting off her nose to spite her face to use a seemingly mixed metaphor. Licking her lips, she gazed in fascination upon this stalwart device of vengeance.
Her hands tingled with the urge to fondle this spectacular basilisk and, reaching down with both hands, she cupped his swollen balls in one and wrapped the other firmly around the thick root of the shaft, holding it near the bottom so that most of the towering rod loomed up from her fist. She squeezed his balls gently and frigged the shaft rhythmically, moving only an inch or two. The motion sent a spasm coursing up the stalk and the head ballooned. That delighted her, and, abandoning his balls, she began fingering the knob and the sensitive area just below the glans.
Her hands, too, were sensitive, and tingling flashes ran up her arms and flooded into her belly, rivulets which met and mingled deep in her belly.
Her pussy began to drip. A droplet of cunt juice fell on his thigh.
"I think we better fuck," she whispered.
Blackburn nodded agreement.
Susan raised herself on trembling thighs and positioned her vulva just above his knob, then settled slowly down. His cock head very accurately nudged into her gash. She lowered an inch and the head slipped up her, her labia closing like the petals of a Venus flytrap around the succulent, phallic insect which had alighted there to sample the honey of her fragrant bloom.
Whimpering, she lowered herself onto the pole, going down inch by inch, until his massive wand was completely encased in her deep cunt and her crotch was resting on his loins, soaking his pubic hair. She rested there for a moment, delighting in the thrill of having a fully stuffed hole, while her cunt closed flutteringly around his contours. Then, athletically, she began to rise and fall, squatting on his dick in a steady tempo. She rose up until only the head remained inside her and then slid down until not even a millimetre of shaft remained outside the threshold of her loins.
Her plump titties bobbled nicely and she turned her face from side to side, biting her lower lip. Her eyes narrowed with desire. She turned her hips slightly as she rode down the pole, adding torque to the vertical friction. Reaching behind her mobile ass, she held his balls with both hands, her slender torso angled back from his belly.
Looking at her down the length of his body, Blackburn thought that her narrow hips looked far too small to contain his massive erection in the space between that, by some impossible topography, a space-warp, perhaps, this girl was gifted with a cunt which was wider than her torso. But this was no time to study such physical paradoxes and, grunting, he lifted his hips to meet her as she slid down.
Her cunt made soft,
moist, squishing sounds as it filled chock-a-block full of swollen cock and sucking noises as the rampant rod was slowly discharged on the upstroke. She squeezed his balls as if using them like a pump, seeking to force the semen up his burning root and fill the thirst well of her womb.
A Taste Of It Page 4