The mistral howls on the Mende station platform. I’m Patrice, sober driver for the night, waiting for Audrey after the TGV. We rush to the mas, family greets us warm. Laughter fills the air, but André calls—bachelor party at Annie’s guinguette. Audrey pouts, excluded from the boys’ ritual. I head out at nine.
Crowd packs Annie’s place. She’s 40-something, curvy brunette, village slut with a heart of gold. Pastis flows, whisky burns throats, guys stagger. I stick to juice, shuttling drunks home. Midnight, only hardcores left. I hunt André. Kitchen noises—grunts, slaps. Door cracks open: Annie bent over the table, dress hiked up, massive ass jiggling. André, drunk, rams his cock raw into her soaked pussy. No lube, just plunges deep. She moans, ‘No, you’re marrying tomorrow,’ but bucks back, urging him. He pounds hard, unloads inside, collapses pants-down.
The Awakening
Annie spots me, smiles wicked. We dress him, I haul his ass home. Courtyard dark, Corinne waits tense. Upstairs, we strip him—cum-stained briefs. He mumbles ‘Annie.’ Her eyes blaze. ‘That bastard. Fine, I’ll fuck my first too.’ She strips naked, lies beside him. Stunning body, tits firm, pussy shaved smooth. ‘Fuck me, Patrice. Last time before marriage.’ Heart races—taboo hits like lightning. André snores. I strip, slide against her. Tears wet her cheeks. I lick them, kiss soft. Cocks hardens on her thigh. She guides me in, wet heat grips tight. Slow thrusts, deep, ritualistic. She whispers, ‘Gentle, you’re my first again.’ Tension builds, forbidden fire ignites.
She cums hard, ‘Faster now!’ I explode inside, pulsing ropes. Shower erases evidence. Back home, three a.m., dog trips me. Audrey opens door, ‘Drunk fool.’ I fake stagger, exhausted from Corinne. She tucks me in, strips naked. Thinks I’m out cold. Grabs my soft cock, strokes, sucks tip clean. Slides between tits, massages. Blood surges—hard as rock. Deepthroats, balls licked, mouth-fucks like a pro. I hold back, but cum floods her throat. She swallows every drop, licks clean, cuddles close. Thrill of her secret boldness pulses in me.
The Raw Act
Morning, she teases my dream. I confess vague. She dives on my morning wood, sucks fierce, tongue flicks frenulum, bites shaft. I try pulling her off—she clings, gulps load two. Kiss tastes my cum on her lips. I flip her, legs over shoulders. Pussy drips, clit swollen. Tongue laps folds, fingers plunge—two, three. Thumb presses asshole, forbidden zone. She bucks, I push in knuckle-deep. Fingers pump, tongue swirls, she screams orgasm, impales on thumb. ‘Bastard, you fingered my ass!’ But grins, licks my fingers clean—except thumb.
Wedding bliss, family charmed. Audrey wins hearts. We part happy, secrets buried. André thanks for ride; Corinne’s wink means more. Audrey’s new hunger? Our thrill. No one suspects my weekend sins—spying, fucking the bride, her devouring me ‘asleep.’ Adrenaline lingers, pussy tastes, ass grip haunts. Pure transgression bliss.