by Twyla Turner
“Does it look like I miss her?” He glances down at his now solid erection, that is now eye level with me as he stands next to the couch.
“Uh…it does not appear that way.” My mouth waters at the proximity of his pretty penis.
“Lean forward,” he commands.
I do as he asks and he sits on the edge of the couch, pressing the towel against my aching lower back. My fingers have a mind of their own and find their way around his impressive girth. They don’t touch.
“Mmm…Ryn, what are you doing?” He whispers in my ear.
I stroke up and down his length and he moans some more.
“Pleasuring you,” I whisper back.
“We cannot.”
“Who says we have to have sex? My mouth works.”
I swear his cock jerks at my words. As if it’s nodding its head ‘yes.’
“But I am trying to ice your back.”
I take the belt of my robe, place it over the ice pack, and then tie it around my waist, holding it in place.
“Problem solved. Now, stand up.” I order him.
He stands in front of me, looking down at me with fire in his eyes. I reach up and gently pull his excess skin back to expose the rest of his purple head. I lick the pearl of precum that drips from the little slit. His hips pump forward. I look up at him with a small smile. His jaw flexes, nostrils flare, and hands clench at his sides. He looks like a caged tiger ready to pounce.
I feel drunk off of my power over him. I’m ready to lavish as much pleasure on him as he’s given me. Oral is my expertise. It used to be my bargaining tool to get Daryl in the mood to have sex. I used it a lot.
My tongue flicks the underside of his head and then swirls around his shaft just under the ridge. He hisses, and I look up at him again. Our eyes connect. We hold eye contact as I take him down to the base. I’ve never had much of gag reflex. His eyes flare wide in shock, a gasp passes his lips.
“Ah, fuck! Taryn, what are you doing to me?”
His hand cups my jaw gently as I bob up and down his shaft. He never grabs the back of my head, forcing me down. He holds incredibly still, instead of trying to thrust down my throat. His gentleness is a testament to his restraint and his thoughtfulness.
I dip down to the base again, letting him hit the back of my throat. I swallow around him, contracting my muscles, squeezing him. He shudders almost violently. I pull back with a gasp for air. My hand joins my mouth, and I gently twist my wrist over his length as I suck and flick my tongue around his tip.
Etienne’s thighs begin to tremble.
“I am going to come, ma chérie,” he says around a groan.
I double my efforts, and he throws back his head. His shaft ripples a moment later as he shouts out his release. My mouth fills with his cum. He tastes sweet and tart. I gladly swallow as I continue to lightly suck the mushroom tip.
“Ah! Enough! Enough.”
He pulls away and collapses to his knees in front of me. I lean forward to kiss his lips. Unlike my ex, he kisses me back without a problem. His tongue dipping into my mouth. Obviously, the thought of possibly tasting his own semen didn’t bother him in the least.
“I am ruined,” he says as he releases my lips.
He lays his head on my lap and wraps his arms around my hips. I run my fingers through his luxuriously soft hair.
“How so?”
“No one has given me oral like that before. Never leave me,” Etienne half-jokes.
“Welcome to the club.” I grin. “Question. Do you eat a lot of fruit?”
“Yes. There is a fruit vendor a few feet from my flat where I buy fresh fruit every day. Why?”
“You taste sweet. I’ve heard that you can tell how well a man eats by how his cum tastes.”
“I will make sure I eat more then,” he says between kisses on my thigh. “Now, open for me. It is your turn.”
“As you wish.”
I scoot forward, spread my thighs, and sigh blissfully.
~~~
The lights and sounds of the city drift in through the open French doors of my bedroom. Soft breezes carrying the fragrant smells of a bakery a few buildings down, caress our damp bodies as we lie in bed.
Etienne holds my hand up between us as we lie on our backs, cooling down from our last lovemaking session. His long masculine fingers play with mine. He weaves them in and out between my fingers, stroking the sensitive skin there. Cream and cinnamon. Blue, purple, magenta and orange colors his hand. I smile softly.
“I love your hands,” I say to him, breaking the quiet moment.
“Hmm…” he hums.
“Your hands look so strong and masculine. Yet your fingers are so long and elegant. Very graceful. Their roughness feels so good on my skin.” I bring his hand to my lips and kiss the pads of his fingers. “And they’re always stained with paint. It’s sexy and like an extension of you.”
“I can never seem to get them clean enough.”
“Don’t. I like it.” I turn my head to look at him. “What were you painting?”
“You. On the beach with the sunset behind you.”
The different shades of color make sense now. Colors of a Nice sunset.
“You’re not just painting pictures of me, are you? No one is going to want to buy a bunch of paintings of me. And I’m not so sure I want to hang on the wall in someone else’s home.”
“Who says that they are for sale? Maybe they are only for me.”
A shy, but pleased smile spreads across my face.
I turn on my side to face him. My fingers itch to touch his hair. Now that I’m free to touch it as much as I want, I don’t hesitate. I let the strands slip through my fingers. They’re silky and cool to the touch. The ends curl around my fingers.
“What were you like as a child?” Etienne asks.
“Carefree and silly.” I focus on his hair as I admit a painful truth. “At least I was, until my mother died when I was thirteen. A time when I needed her most. When I needed her to explain the changes in my body and boys.”
“I am so sorry, Taryn.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago. Although you never fully get over it. It was sudden. A car accident on her way home from work.” I sigh heavily. “I became quiet and withdrawn for a long time. It was my ex that drew me out of my shell again. But even then, not fully.”
Not until now, because of you. I leave that part out, letting him read between the lines.
“What about your father?” Etienne asks, pulling me closer, stroking my back soothingly.
“He was able to walk me down the aisle and see Kari born. Not long after she was born though, he died of a heart attack. I miss him and was devastated, but I know he’s happier being with my mom. He was never the same either after she died. She was the love of his life.
“I think losing them is what made me dote on and cater to Kari as she was growing up. I didn’t want to miss a moment.”
“You are a wonderful mother, I think.”
“I hope so. Maybe not so much anymore.”
“You are. She has only lost sight of that. She will come around.”
My mood has turned morose, tainting the quiet, intimate moment we were having. I slide my fingers through his hair to clutch the back of his head. I pull him towards me, and our lips meet. He kisses me deeply, but then pulls back to look down at me with concern. His necklaces swing and clink together above me.
“I’m fine. I just don’t want to be sad right now.”
“I apologize for making you sad. I promise I will make it up to you.” He kisses my nose sweetly as he moves between my legs.
“You being you is enough.”
Green eyes sparkle down at me with adoration and pure affection. My breath hitches.
I am so screwed.
Chapter 13
The week flew by leading up to my first tour group arriving in Nice. I spent the early mornings in my or Etienne’s bed. Talking, kissing, making love, and convincing him and myself that
it was time to start the day instead of staying in bed. The rest of the day, I made sure that all of the hotels, tours, activities, and transportation I’ve set up for the group were ready to receive them. Etienne didn’t want any money for offering to hold a painting class for the ladies, but I went with him one afternoon to get all of the art supplies he needed, and I paid for that instead. The evenings were spent eating dinner in our flats or out at restaurants during the weekend. Spending the end of each day how we started them. Talking about everything, kissing, and making love. Only to start all over again the next day.
I’m glad that I have my business to think about. If I didn’t, all I’d think about all day is my young French lover. I already spend too much time fighting off thoughts of him as it is. This week with the group of ladies is going to be a needed, yet unwelcome break from our love affair.
I hop out of the shuttle bus when I see a group of five lively, and colorfully dressed black women walk through the doors of the airport. They are a welcome sight. I smile brightly and wave them over as I walk towards them.
“Bonjour, ladies! Welcome to Nice.”
“Hey, Taryn! I’m Yvonne. It’s so good to finally meet you in person.”
She’s tall, slender and light-skinned. And just like she’d said, her hair is in micro-braids, pulled back into a ponytail.
She hugs me happily since we feel as if we know each other after all of our phone conversations. I shake hands with the rest as Yvonne introduces us.
“Taryn, this is Deena, Tiffani, Roz, and Charlene. Ladies, this is Taryn Reid.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you all.”
The shuttle driver takes their bags and places them in the back of the shuttle as we all climb inside.
“We didn’t do too bad packing, right?” Yvonne asks.
“Yeah, you all did really well. I’m actually impressed.” I turn around in the front passenger seat to look back at them.
“Girl, your packing advice helped a lot. Knowing us, we would’ve needed two shuttles. One for our luggage, and another one for us.” Yvonne says as they all nod in agreement.
“So, what do you have planned for us,” Roz asks.
“Let me just warn you now,” Yvonne jumps in before I can answer. “Roz is ready to get lit. She’s the wild one of the group.”
“I’m not even gonna lie. I am.” Roz nods proudly.
Roz is in a deeply cut sundress, showing off ample cleavage. Her nose is pierced with a few visible tattoos. And for the trip, her hair is in long twists with little gold cuffs adorning them here and there.
“Well, if I’m guessing correctly, I’d say you ladies are exhausted from the long flight, but still hyped up enough to want to see some stuff. Am I right?”
They all give varying answers of ‘yes’ and nods of agreement.
“That’s what I figured. I’ve been there. So, we’ll get you checked in to your hotel and settled. Then if you’re hungry, we’ll go have a late lunch. Then after that, we can relax on the beach with some drinks or take a small walking tour of the city.”
“Beach!” They all say in unison.
“I wanna see some men in those tight, little swim trunks,” Roz adds.
“The beach it is.”
~~~
“So, you really just left everything behind in the States, moved here, and started your own business?” Deena asks as she lifts up her sunglasses to peer over at me as we lay back in our lounge chairs on the beach.
Deena seems to be the more reserved and conservative one. Her hair in sleek extensions, in a one-piece bathing suit with a sheer black cover-up hiding most of her body. I’m sure uprooting my life to move to another country is way outside of her comfort zone, and her curiosity is piqued.
The other ladies sit up and direct their attention to me, waiting for my reply. They’re obviously just as curious.
“Yep. I was ready for something new.”
“If you don’t mind me asking. I’m assuming you’re not married. But do you have kids?” Tiffani asks.
“I don’t mind. Yeah, I’m divorced and have one daughter. She just graduated college and is starting her first year teaching high school English.”
“Damn! You left your kid?” Roz asks.
“I know some people wouldn’t be able to do it. She’s come to visit me already, and I plan to go back for the holidays. But I figure she’s grown. I gave up my life and my dreams to raise her and my husband.” I give them a knowing look, and they all nod their sympathy. “I wanted a little something for myself. To be a little selfish for once.”
“I hear you, girl,” Tiffani says and holds up her hand for a high-five. “I’m the single one, and I watch how you all bend over backward for your husbands and kids. I couldn’t do it.”
Tiffani is also the eccentric one. Her hair is buzzed close to her scalp, letting her stunning face and high cheekbones be the star of the show. Her clothes are quirky and fun.
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but how were you able to swing it financially?” Charlene asks.
“I lived modestly off of my salary and commission as a travel agent, took care of my daughter with the child support I received, and saved the alimony my ex has to pay me until I had enough to move and start up my own business. He owed me that after years of supporting him as he went to medical school.”
“Yessssss!!!” Yvonne shouts.
They all high-five me and each other. We cackle joyfully.
“You’re my hero,” Yvonne says.
“The real MVP,” Roz adds.
It feels good to know that I may inspire someone else to take charge of their own life. Unapologetically.
We spend the rest of the afternoon talking about our lives. They share with me like I’ve always been a part of the group. Yvonne is going through a rough patch with her husband. It’s so bad that they’ve been considering separating and maybe even getting a divorce. Roz is newly divorced after catching her husband cheating. But has two grown and successful children she dotes on. Charlene is married, but having difficulties with one of her children who has a drug problem. Tiffani has been dating but hasn’t found anyone she’s willing to get serious with. And Deena has only been married a few years and struggling to have a child late in life.
They’ve all been friends since high school, and they gladly welcome me into the fold. It’s nice being around people who come from similar backgrounds and who get me.
This tour company may be as beneficial to me emotionally as it could be financially.
Chapter 14
The ladies opted to order room service for dinner, unpack, and turn in early the night before. Their jetlag finally catching up to them. They wanted to be refreshed and start early today. Which gave me the opportunity to sneak away and get in some quality time with Etienne.
We spent the morning touring the city. For the afternoon, I’ve set up a tour of a vineyard and winery, which I’m glad I did. The ladies are enjoying the taste testing portion of the tour. Roz and Tiffani are added entertainment as they flirt shamelessly with the handsome sommelier, Lucien. He definitely seems taken with Roz.
“Now, ladies, if you will follow me. It’s time to enjoy our selection of wines with lunch.” Lucien says before guiding us to the dining room.
We settle into our seats at a large round table, elegantly adorned with a pristine white tablecloth and gleaming plates and flatware.
“Take a look at our menu, and your server will be over to take your order shortly.” He pulls out a card from inside his jacket and places it on the table in front of Roz. “Here’s my card if you need anything. I bid you adieu.”
He bows and winks at Roz before walking away. We all grin at her, suppressing our giggles as she fans herself with the tiny card.
“Oh, I like it here.” She says while her eyes follow his retreating back.
“Are all the Frenchmen like this?” Tiffani asks.
“Pretty much,” I answer.
They’ve been shoc
ked all day by the attention they’ve been receiving from the men as we tour the area. It’s certainly something that takes getting used to. The looks we’re used to from white men are often ones of disdain or secret fascination if they even acknowledge our existence. The French don’t hide their interest whatsoever.
“White guys never look at me the way these French dudes are,” Roz admits.
“Hell, I’ve never really even considered them until now,” Tiffani adds.
“The relationship between the French and African Americans during and after World War II has been a good one for some reason. I guess it’s our culture and the jazz scene that they welcomed with open arms. I hear that a lot of blacks stayed after the war was over.” I explain.
“I’d stay too. I’m over here seriously trying to figure out how to do it.” Roz rubs her chin as if she’s deep in thought.
“Me too!” Tiffani exclaims.
“I wonder how mad my kids would be if I bounced?” Roz asks.
“Tell them that it’s a free room and board vacation in a different country any time they want. That usually changes their mind.” I grin at her, ignoring the twinge of pain in my heart at the thought of Kari. She’s still not speaking to me.
“Though I have to warn you. Being American, traveling or living abroad, some of the men will assume you are wealthy and come looking for sugar mamas to take care of them. So, just be mindful. Make sure they’re approaching you for the right reasons.” I add.
“Pfft. If he’s willing to cook and clean and put it down in the bedroom, I’ll gladly be somebody’s sugar mama.” Roz grins.
Tiffani high-fives her.
“I’m kinda jealous that you both have the freedom to move if you wanted to,” Charlene says.
“Right?!” Yvonne agrees.
“I think you’re all crazy,” Deena gives everyone a look. “I could never move to another country.”
Tiffani pats her shoulder. “You can come visit.”
We all chuckle.
“So, Taryn.” Yvonne gives me a knowing look. “Have you met any nice Frenchmen since you’ve been here. Cause, I mean, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel.”