Tuesday morning at the tile shop. Empty store. I’m stacking panels on the floor when light footsteps stop behind me. ‘Need anything?’ I mutter. ‘Ahan.’ I turn. Strappy wedge sandals. Tanned calves. Denim skirt. Navy tank top. Fabienne. My sister’s best friend. The one I’ve been jerking to for days. Sun-kissed face, hair loose. She stares, hunting. So fucking sexy. Shock hits. Want to kiss her. Fuck the coworkers. She presses finger to my lips. ‘Dinner at mine. 9 PM. Dress nice.’ Gone. Colleagues grin, jealous.
Day drags. Teased nonstop. Boss nods approval. Race to florist for red roses. Bouquet like a flag. Home: shower, shave, cologne. Linen pants, white shirt, loafers. Dad hands Saint-Emilion ’86. Mom lends Twingo. Smoke to calm nerves. Ring at 9 sharp. Mint fresh. Door opens. New short wavy bob. Gold hoops. Black floral dress. Red sinful lips. Eyes light up at roses. Can’t resist. Peck her lips. Vanilla scent.
The Awakening: From Regret to Burning Desire
Red Bordeaux. Gersoise salad. Alone. Back from Mimizan vacation. No fun, sister’s nagging. Periods soon. Puceau brain skips it. Compliment her neck. Ti-punch on terrace. Share light joint. Apologize for idiot advice on getting laid. She laughs—made her think. Flowers wowed family. Dinner flows: melon, colonel cut. Wine vanishes. Eyes locked. Tension thick. British Southwest hypocrisy.
She clears. I roll joint on leather couch. She joins. Pass it. Deep stares. She sets it down. Grabs my face. Tongue invades. First real French kiss. Electric. Frots start. I stand her. Strip slow. Kiss every inch. No panties. She gets it. Undresses me. Trust. Novices but know bodies. Naked. Collapse. Lips fused. Suck hard tits. Finger trimmed pussy. She strokes my rock-hard cock. Moans sync. Wet now. Legs spread. ‘Pill?’ Nod. On her. Fumble entry. She guides. Gland in. Hot.
‘Ready?’ ‘Go.’ Push. Blocks. Fear hurt. She bucks, swallows me. Pain flashes in eyes, gone. Divine grip. Tight, warm, velvet. Too good. She rolls hips. I cum fast, groaning inside her. Eyes wide. ‘Sorry, baby.’ ‘Good anyway.’ Barely hurt. Cuddle, still joined. Magic.
The Act: Virgin Deflowering Unleashed
She cleans. I wipe cum, couch. Light blood. Shot rum. Puff joint hard, pissed at performance. She spoons back, kisses neck. ‘It’s done. Recharge. Again.’ ‘You’re amazing.’ ‘Hungry.’ Flip her. Legs wide. Perfect metro ticket pussy. Shaved golf green. Dive in. Lick everywhere. 69, me on top. She rims, sucks balls. I throat-fuck. No fingers. Clit suck. Randy Spears style. She bucks wild. Orgasms hard. I hold on. Eyes age, smile huge. Reward kiss.
Joint relight. Victory. She wants ‘other smoke.’ Couch deep. She sucks greedy. Licks, deepthroats, balls, eyes slutty. Fingers self. ‘Slut, who taught?’ ‘Vicious guy with mags, tapes.’ Porno talk: sodomy, orgies. Hard again. Mounts. Impales deep. Ride. Hands free: tits, ass. Suckle like baby. Endure. She owns it. Hips grind, tits bounce. Block, pound, devour mouth. Primal.
Close. ‘Gonna cum.’ ‘Me too!’ Crush ass. She clamps. Orgasms violent. Pussy vise. Miss mine but don’t care. She collapses laughing. Cock slips. ‘No cum?’ ‘Jerk me.’ Straddles, strokes. Hot, sweaty femelle eyes. Warn. Remounts. Fucks hard. I explode deep. Sigh bliss. Encased nirvana. ‘Love feeling you flood me.’ ‘Better for me.’ Fused, kiss, cherish.
‘Love you? Nah.’ Laugh. Shower together. Soap, shampoo tender. Dress. Tomorrow repeat. Doorway mega makeout. Grind hard-on on her hand. Finger pussy goodbye. Macho claim: her first. Forever mine. Secret thrill. Back to reality, cock owned.