Paul sat and nursed his Guinness at the Horse and Caravan, a particularly good Irish pub. He was waiting for the England-South Africa match to start at 9 p.m. He’d arrived early this evening, as he knew the pub would be packed and he wanted a few drinks in the open air before it kicked off.
The weather was mild, and the evenings were starting to get colder. He pulled his jacket closer to keep the oncoming chill out. He was lucky, as he’d managed to bag a small table for two, although this evening, he’d just planned to go out by himself.
He pulled out his phone to check the team line-ups and to place a bet with himself on who was going to win. England had already had an easy pool compared to some of the other major teams, but the Bokke were going to be a different kettle of fish. Completely engrossed in his phone, he didn’t notice that someone had sat down in the chair opposite. It was only when the other person placed their pint on the table with more force than required, that he lifted his head.
In front of him was a gorgeous, young French woman, with long black hair down past her shoulders and large, brown eyes.
“It’s Léa, isn’t it?” he asked, “We met last week after the Irish game.”
Léa smiled, “Ah, so you do remember me. It’s Paul, isn’t it?” Léa pronounced his name “Pol”.
“Heh, I couldn’t forget you. It was fun chatting to you after the game. It took my mind off the loss.”
“So, you’ve not been moping around after the match then? You’ve kept yourself occupied?” she queried.
“Er, yes,” replied Paul, somewhat mystified.
“You’ve been able to focus on other things then?”
“Er, yes. I’m not sure where you’re going with this line of questioning.”
“I bet you’ve written it all down in a diary or journal, eh? Not wanting to forget the evening?”
Paul was getting a little uncomfortable with the third degree. Did she know something he didn’t? Then it clicked.
“You’re not a fan…” he started.
“…of erotic literature,” she finished, with a grin that just got bigger and bigger until Léa just burst out laughing, “Yes, I’m a subscriber to Lushstories, just like you are.”
Paul flushed bright red. He didn’t embarrass easily, but he’d been caught out. And caught out by the girl he’s written his fantasy stories about.
Léa laughed even more, “Got you! You’re so red. You’re, er, how do you say, ‘gêne’?”
“Embarrassed,” squeaked Paul.
By this time, Léa was in fits of laughter, “Paul, oh Paul, you don’t need to be. I’m flattered. The stories were based on me, non? My hair, my breasts, my job in the restaurant near to here, me riding the bicycle home?”
“Well, only the start of the stories,” he replied, feeling completely caught out.
“Well, of course. After I rode back to my apartment, you had to use your imagination. And oh là là, what an imagination!” Léa roared. She knew he was on the back foot and didn’t know what to say, or how to defend himself.
“But Paul, I’m only teasing. I think it’s very amusant, er, funny. And as I said, I’m flattered that you’d even think of me like that,” Léa remarked, whilst consciously pushing out her breasts, accenting their form, whilst remaining discrete.
“I did think you were very pretty when I first met you”.
“And not now! Oh, mon Dieu!”
“No, no, that’s not what…” flustered Paul.
“Oh, you’re so easy to trap,” she giggled.
Finally, Paul realised she was on a major wind-up.
“Ha, ha, very funny.”
“But really, your imagination was rather good. Some of the things were completely correct. You spelt my name correctly, it’s not L-E-A-H. I do have black hair, it was in a bun, my eyes are brown (not something people notice straight away) and yes, my breasts are quite large. 36C for your information,” she leaned over next to Paul’s ear and whispered, “I’m completely shaven down there.”
Léa looked at Paul expecting him to turn even redder, but he didn’t. He was quite composed. Or at least he was trying to act that way.
“Your face doesn’t give anything away, but I bet what’s hidden underneath the table gives it away.”
Now Paul did go bright red. His cock was straining to get out of his jeans. Léa leaned over again, but this time, her hand went up his leg to his groin and she ran her hand over his stiffening manhood.
“Ah ouais, I’m right,” she smiled mischievously, “Do you really want to watch the match? Or see where I really live?”
“The match will only stress me out. I don’t even know who I want to support this time,” he said, “A nice little walk would be good,” he said, trying to get the subject to change.
“Come then,” Léa said, grabbing his hand, “Leave your Guinness, there’s hardly anything left.”
Léa led Paul to where her bike was and unlocked it. They started to walk up the road, with the canal St Martin to their left, glistening with the streetlights; the occasional car rushing past them; groups of Saturday night revellers on their way towards Bastille and couples walking past them in the moonlight.
“I know you didn’t use the real name of my restaurant. Very good. Why l’Autruche?”
“Oh, I wanted to keep it fairly anonymous. After all, I wanted to write an erotic story.”
“I think you did very well. The only thing that you couldn’t know is that I don’t live above the restaurant but in a small apartment with my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” he inquired.
“Yes, you know, a friend that’s a girl. Ahhhh, non, I’m she’s not my petite amie, you understand?”
“Ah, I see.”
“But I do sometimes like the feminine sex though. You should try it,” she grinned.
After a short while, Léa led Paul to a small side street and halfway down turned towards an enormous double door, with a smaller inset door. She opened the door and bumped her bike inside and Paul followed, closing the door behind them. Up a narrow passageway, just wide enough for one car to go through, to the courtyard. The light of the gardien’s flat flickered on.
“T’inquiète pas Jacques, ce moi,” called Léa.
The light flicked off.
“That’s just Jacques. He looks out for me. I swear he’d like to bed me, the dirty old man. He’s always, how do you say, leching after me?”
“Heh,” remarked Paul, “I totally get it.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” laughed Léa.
Léa opened a small door and pushed her bike in, locking it to a pole.
“Come now. I’m on the fourth floor. No lifts in this block”.
Paul wasn’t surprised. Some of these buildings had very narrow staircases, and even the smallest of lifts couldn’t be installed in the centre. The building was typically French with a typical French charm.
As Léa climbed the worn wooden stairs, Paul followed. Léa seemed to accentuate the movement of her buttocks in her trousers as if deliberately trying to tease or at least, make Paul comment. Paul just took in the view as they went up to the fourth floor. Léa turned her head and grinned, “Almost there.”
Upon arriving on the fourth-floor landing, Paul let out a puff, “Just because I do lots of training, it still doesn’t prepare you for climbing up French staircases.”
Léa smiled, “I’m used to it now. It’s been a few years that I’ve lived here.”
Léa pulled out her keys from her jacket and proceeded to unlock the security lock. The lock made an audible ‘clunk’ as the locking bar shifted.
“Ah, Anna must be out. The double lock was on. Come, come in,” Léa said.
Inside the small apartment, were old-style wooden floors, covered in a deep brown varnish. Rugs lay around the place as if their sole purpose were to dampen the sound of footsteps around the apartment. The place was old and worn, but it was obvious that both Léa and Anna liked to keep the place tidy.
“Get a lot of visitors, do you?” queried Paul.
“Why do you ask?”
“Heh, my place looks like a bomb site. I live with a couple of guys and it’s a losing battle to keep the place tidy,” he said.
“So, you are not with a wife then?” asked Léa.
“No, no wife. No girlfriend or petite amie either,” he replied.
“Ah, so the story does diverge from reality then. I couldn’t sleep with a married man. Well, I don’t think so. Actually. I don’t know.”
“I’d say ‘don’t knock it until you’ve tried it’, but then again, I’m not in a position to make that comment.”
“What a lovely expression. ‘Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.’ You English people have such lovely expressions.”
“Careful now. I’m a full-blooded Irishman!” exclaimed Paul, putting more effort into his Irish accent, whilst grinning at the same time.
“Oh, all my excuses, M’ssieur!” laughed Léa, “I know how touchy you men can get sometimes. Come, sit down. What would you like to drink?”
“I’ll take whatever you’re having.”
“White wine okay for you? I still have a couple of chilled bottles of dry white in the fridge.”
“That’ll do nicely,” answered Paul, whilst thinking to himself that he’d probably not get drunk from white wine.
Léa went to the kitchen to grab the glasses and a bottle. Paul sat down on the sofa, noticing it was a clic-clac, a sofa bed. He stretched his arms along the back of the sofa and looked around. The apartment was very cosy and warm. Looking out the window, he saw the apartment opposite and in the brightly lit kitchen, he saw a young couple having dinner. It was then he realised that Léa hadn’t turned the lights on, so the couple probably couldn’t see Paul.
Léa returned to the living room with two glasses and one freshly opened bottle of wine. She placed them on the glass coffee table and poured a generous amount into each glass.
“Just how you Anglo-Saxons like it. A full glass. Not like us hot-blooded Latin people,” she said.
Once she’d poured the wine, Léa sat herself down next to Paul.
“Shall I turn on the corner light?” he asked.
Léa glanced through the window and saw the couple across the road.
“No. I think not. Not yet,” she replied, “Let’s just turn the sofa around a bit. We can do some neighbour-watching. I think you’re going to enjoy this.”
Léa got up and Paul, a little mystified, pulled the sofa around so it was facing the window directly. Then they both sat down, as Léa handed Paul a glass.
“Just watch. Better than the télé,” said Léa, “I don’t think they can see us. Or if they can, they don’t care.”
Paul had an inkling about what was going to happen, but he said nothing.
“Well, santé then,” as he clinked his glass against Léas.
“Cheers,” she replied.
Léa moved over and snuggled up to Paul.
“This will be a great show. Happens quite often. Ah, look, it’s starting.”
Paul looked over and watched the couple. He saw they’d finished eating and were now standing on the same side of the table, each of them with a glass of red wine in their hands. The man took the glass out of the woman’s hand and placed it on the table behind him. As he turned back, the woman took his face in her hands and started to kiss, gently at first, then with more passion. Even though Paul and Léa were separated by at least 20m distance, Paul could see that there was fire in that passion.
As the couple kissed, the woman unbuttoned her partner’s shirt and pulled it off, kissing his chest as she did so. The man reciprocated by pulling up her blouse over her shoulders, kissing her bra-covered breasts as he did so.
“Oh, this is going to be a quick session tonight. They normally take more time,” said Léa.
Paul, curiously fascinated by what was going on across the road, said to Léa, “I never took you for a voyeur.”
Léa continued to look ahead, “Well, I never meant to be. But it does make me warm and wet to have a free show. They never, ever close their curtains. I think they like being exhibitionists.”
Paul turned to look at Léa and was about to comment on the ‘warm and wet’ remark, when Léa said, “Quick, quick, look, look.”
Paul turned to see the couple were completely naked, and the man had a raging hard-on in front of him.
“Wow, that was quick. Do they have magical disappearing clothes?” he remarked.
The woman grabbed hold of the man’s cock and pulled him towards her body. They continued kissing passionately, as her hand went up and down. Suddenly, she pulled back and went down to her knees.
“I told you this would be quick. I’ve seen this show before,” Léa giggled.
The woman held on to her partner’s hips and took his cock in her mouth.
“Watch,” said Léa. Paul noticed Léa was a little breathless. Paul felt his breath turning a little ragged too. He’d seen a lot of porn but never live. A familiar feeling grew between his legs.
“Let’s watch, but don’t touch,” winked Léa.
Paul felt himself get a little harder. Whether it was because of the show, or Léa, he wasn’t sure. He turned to see the next stage of the show and felt Léa move closer to him, her breath still heavy. As she snuggled her head into his chest, he saw that Léa’s nipples had hardened, and her areola seemed to be darkening through the whiteness of her blouse. No bra, he realised.
The woman had now stood up again and moved over to the kitchen table. She leaned over, and her partner grabbed hold of her hips, as he slammed himself into her. Paul could see the gasp from across the road, as the woman took the length of her partner.
Léa and Paul watched. Paul was transfixed as if it were the first time he’d seen a couple having sex. He could hear Léa murmuring in approval. The couple across the road weren’t love-making, but full-on screwing.
Paul moved his arm into a more comfortable position, as Léa rested on him. He moved his hand over her shoulder and started to brush it against her hardened nipple.
“Paul, you tease!” she exclaimed. Paul didn’t stop but brushed his hand over again. He took her nipple between his fingers through the blouse, and Léa let out a gentle moan, whilst still watching the live show. Paul looked back at the window opposite, whilst continuing to pinch and rub Léa’s nipple. The man opposite was holding hard on his partner’s hips, as he thrust in and out. He leaned over to kiss his partner on the neck, not slowing the thrusting. Suddenly there seemed to be a sudden burst of speed and one gigantic thrust. The woman threw back her head, and Paul could see her mouth open, as if crying out without making a sound. Then it stopped. The man leaned over his partner as if he were exhausted, whilst squashing her on the kitchen table.
“Oh bravo,” clapped Léa, “Another successful live show.”
Then silently, the man pulled himself up and helped his partner stand too. Still both naked, they kissed passionately. Then, as if the show were in a theatre, the woman walked over to the window. Paul watched her slim body and that she was her pubic region was shaved, as she grabbed each of the curtains and pulled them closed.
“Does it always end like that?” he asked.
“Every finish has the curtain close. That’s why I know they know people watch,” she replied, “Very artistic, don’t you think? What a way to demonstrate the end of a love-making session.”
“That seemed to be pure, animalistic sex from where I was standing.”
“Tonight was a quick session. Sometimes they go on for ages. Sometimes Anna and I will just sit and watch them and stuff.”
Paul had a very good inkling as to what ‘stuff’ was but said nothing. As he looked at Léa, he noticed her trousers were slightly darker at the crotch. Léa noticed him looking and smiled.
“Close your eyes,” she said.
Paul closed his eyes and felt Léa moving. Then he smelled a familiar smell as Léa touched his lips with her wet fingers. Paul let his lips open to the gentle pressure of her fingers, as he tasted the wetness that Léa had brought up from between her legs.
“Nice, no?”
“Oh, yes, very nice,” he said, as her fingers came out of his mouth.
He moved over to Léa, held her face and started to kiss her. Softly and gently first, then both started to push harder, trying to devour each other. Their tongues intertwined and they frantically kissed, still worked up from their recently finished live show.
“Come, let’s take this to my room. No shower, as I guess you’ve showered already. I can smell it in your hair. And me too, I showered before I came out.”
Léa stood up, her legs slightly wobbly, as she grabbed Paul’s hand and pulled her to her room.
The bedroom was cosy, and the double bed took up most of the space in the room. Léa turned to Paul, and she leaned over to kiss him. She pulled herself close, and Paul felt her breasts press against his chest, her hardened nipples poking into him. He reached his hands around to her buttocks and pulled her closer to him, his hardness pressing against her belly.
Then Léa turned, “I’m going to give you something to write about,” she said. She pushed Paul onto the bed and climbed on top of him. Paul smiled and just watched this Parisian beauty looking down at him, as she removed her blouse. He reached up to touch her belly, as he ran his hands up to her breasts.
“No, not yet,” she said, “I’m in control here.”
Léa leaned down and kissed Paul, at the same time pulling his top over his head, until the pair were topless, but still had trousers on. Léa moved down, and with consummate skill, undid Paul’s belt and pulled his trousers and boxers off in one fell swoop. Then she rested her head against Paul’s thigh. He could just about see that she was pulling her trousers and knickers off. Her hair brushed over his body, and Paul moaned softly. Léa ran her hands up his legs, up to the top of his thighs, as her hair brushed over his cock and balls. Paul couldn’t see what was going on, as Léa’s black locks had hidden her head completely. Then her head moved down slightly, and Paul gasped, as he felt Léa’s tongue move up the length of his cock. As she reached the head, he felt her lips open around the head as she pushed herself down onto him.
“Oooooh, wow,” he exclaimed, feeling the warmth of Léa’s mouth as she moved down onto him. Léa brought her hands to her hair, and she flicked it back, giving Paul a complete view of what she was doing to him. With a glint in her eyes, she lowered her mouth down further, until the whole seven inches of Paul’s cock was in her mouth.
“Ohhhhhhh, bloody hell,” he groaned, grabbing the quilt on each side of him. Léa seeing the pleasure in Paul’s face, started to raise her mouth, his cock coming out. Just as Paul thought it was finished, Léa lowered herself again until her nose touched his groin. Paul continued to moan, as Léa raised and lowered herself. She started to move faster, whilst still taking his full length in her mouth. Up and down, up and down.
“I can’t hold it much longer,” he moaned. But this was a signal to Léa to move faster and faster.
“Oh, the Gods,” Paul moaned, as he came, releasing what felt like endless jets of cum into Léa’s mouth. Léa pushed down, as Paul shuddered and moaned, still shooting into her warm, wet mouth. When Léa finally sensed that Paul had stopped cumming, she pulled herself off his slowly shrinking cock and moved up his body. As her head reached Paul’s, he could feel the warmth and wetness of her pussy moving up his leg, finally resting next to his spent member.
Léa moved her head over to Paul and kissed him, forcing her tongue into his mouth. Paul could feel his cream being passed between their lips and he returned the kiss, pushing his tongue into her mouth.
After what seemed like ages, they stopped kissing, Paul’s cum all over their lips and cheeks.
“That was, without word of a lie, the best blowjob I have ever, ever had,” said Paul.
“No gag reflex,” grinned Léa, “I think I enjoyed it as much as you.”
Paul and Léa held on to each other, Léa’s head resting against Paul’s chest. She could hear and feel his fast-beating heart. He kissed the top of her head. As Léa looked up, he kissed her nose, then her lips, as he slowly started to move down.
The pair shifted on the bed, Léa rolling onto her back, as Paul moved on top of her, still kissing her pale, white skin. He moved down to her neck, and Léa moaned, as he kissed the sensitive region. Paul could see that Léa enjoyed the soft kisses as he moved slowly down her body. As he reached her breasts, he took his time to roll his tongue over her nipples and around her areola. His hands gently massaged her breasts, his other hand pinching and twisting gently her left nipple, whilst he used his tongue on her right.
Then whilst his warm mouth concentrated on her breasts, he dragged his fingers down her body, his fingernails gently pulling down and creating more friction, as Léa started to squirm. His hand reached her pussy, and his fingers touched the outside of her warm, wet entrance. Léa gasped. Not stopping with his mouth on her breasts, his fingers started to explore the outside of her pussy, teasing and touching. Léa, unconsciously, opened her legs wider, as Paul’s probing fingers started to push into her. Paul felt Léa soaking wet and pushed a finger, then two, then three into her welcoming hole. He started to frig her slowly, whilst still teasing her breasts and nipples. Léa continued to moan and groan, as he teased and played with her body.
Paul pulled his lips off her nipple and started to move his whole body down, his cock starting to get harder again, as his body started to become aroused. He dragged his tongue over her navel and kissed her belly button. As he reached her mons pubis, his tongue dragged over her soft, shaven mound. He planted a kiss on the soft rise, and he carried on down, his fingers still frigging Léa as he continued.
He took in her smell and could see she was soaked, her juices spreading over the quilt. He pulled his fingers out and ran his tongue from the bottom of her pussy to the top, feeling the nub of her clit. Léa was continually moaning, and she grabbed Paul’s hair, pushing his head against her pussy. Paul started to tongue her clit, creating friction and causing Léa to shudder even more. Back and forth, his tongue moving faster and harder. He kept moving, not stopping, feeling Léa’s hand pushing him. His tongue was starting to ache, but he didn’t stop, Léa continuing to groan and moan.
He could feel Léa’s body start to shudder.
“Pauuuul,” she managed to squeak. Nothing more escaped her lips.
Paul continued, feeling like his tongue was going to give up, but his excitement at feeling the pleasure building up in Léa’s body gave him the energy to continue.
“Oooooh,” Léa moaned, “I’mmmmmm…”
And with that, her body just broke into a massive shudder, as Paul could feel the throes of her orgasm take over. For what seemed like an eternity, she shook before the waves of pleasure died down. Her hand fell away from his head, as she seemed to collapse.
“Oooooh, that was soooo good,” said Léa, her breath laborious.
“That was delicious,” replied Paul, smelling the fragrant odour from Léa’s pussy.
Paul planted a final kiss on Léa’s pussy, his tongue quickly pushing into her wet entrance. Then slowly, he moved up her body, until his head was next to hers. Léa turned her head and kissed him on the lips.
“Thank you,” she said, her body still weak.
“We’ve not finished yet,” said Paul, looking into her deep, brown eyes, with a smile.
