Monique and John - a May/November Romance
Copyright© 2025 by acguy
Chapter 22
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 22 - An aspiring young architectural student sets her sights on her older widowed neighbour.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Reluctant Romantic Fiction Exhibitionism Masturbation Oral Sex Safe Sex Voyeurism
By the time we made it to the kitchen, I had mostly recovered from Monique’s teasing—mostly. She set to work preparing breakfast, making something more elaborate than usual. Scrambled eggs with fresh herbs, crispy toast, fresh fruit, and rich coffee.
She was clearly trying to impress me, and I loved it.
I leaned back in my chair, watching her move around the kitchen, her bare feet silent on the cool tile. “Trying to prove something?” I mused.
She glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “I have to make sure you know I can cook. That way, when you’re better, you’ll want to cook for me.”
I chuckled. “I love cooking, and once I’m back to full strength, I plan on spoiling you.”
She set a plate in front of me and kissed my temple. “I’m looking forward to that.”
Breakfast was slow and filled with easy conversation, but beneath it, I could feel the weight of what was coming. The Gendarmes would be arriving soon, and though I didn’t have much to tell them, the unknowns still sat heavy on my chest.
By the time we finished eating and cleaned up, we were both composed and put together, ready for whatever came next.
At exactly ten o’clock, the doorbell rang.
Monique opened the door, greeting the officers politely before leading them into the living room. I sat down, keeping my expression calm.
“Thank you for seeing us, Monsieur Moreau,” one of the officers said as they settled in.
I nodded. “Of course. I wish I could be more helpful.”
One of them pulled out a notepad. “Why don’t you start from the beginning? Tell us everything you remember.”
I exhaled slowly. “I had gone for a ride on my cycle. The weather turned—rain came in fast. I was making my way back home when...” I paused, trying to summon the memory, but it was hazy. “I remember the impact. I remember my bike sliding. But that’s it. I don’t remember seeing the vehicle that hit me.”
The officers exchanged glances before one of them spoke again. “You didn’t hear anything before the impact? An engine? A horn?”
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