Chapter 4: Veronique

I took a deep breath and then entered the elevator, getting out on the top floor that housed the hotel’s suites. I knocked on the door of 3C and after a moment or two the door opened and Chloe stood in the entrance.

“Hello Rafael,” she said sweetly. “Mom is waiting for you, and I’m off to see the Chevalier. I will see you again later I hope.” Chloe was dressed in a school girl outfit that made my mouth water. Her hair was unbound and fell like a golden cloud over her shoulders. Her thin white blouse showed that although her breasts were small they were firm and up-tilted with erect nipples, advertising the fact she neither needed nor wore a bra. Her grey pleated skirt was mid-thigh length and swung provocatively as she walked past me and down the corridor towards the Chevalier’s suite. I felt envious of the Chevalier and wouldn’t have minded tasting the forbidden fruit of underage sex myself. Unbeknown to me Chloe’s mother had been watching me lusting after her daughter as she went swaying down the corridor. Madame Curtis eyed me with amusement.

“I hoped your tastes ran to a more mature type of woman, Rafael.” Her warm smile showed she had appreciated me appreciating her daughter; family pride no doubt. She waved me into the hallway. “Come into the lounge.”

I followed her, admiring the sway of her hips and the thrust of her buttocks as she led me into the lounge. ‘Like mother like daughter’ I thought, mentally licking my lips and surreptitiously adjusting my underwear.

The lounge had a wonderful view of large Atlantic breakers rolling in from their 3000 mile journey and dashing themselves into huge clouds of spray on the rocky headland of Rocher de la Vierge. I had just as wonderful a view of Madame Curtis as she bent down in front of me to plump up the cushions of a large armchair. I was spoilt for choice as to which view to concentrate on – Madams Curtis’s derriere came out the winner. She straightened up, glanced over her shoulder and gave me a knowing grin. “Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable, Rafael,” indicating the armchair she had been bent over.

Madame Curtis was dressed, if that is the correct word to use, in a short peignoir type garment. An emerald green shimmery fabric creation that reached just to her mid-thigh, tied with a sash of the same material around her trim waist. Her breasts were straining against the bodice and I would put money on the fact she wore no brassiere beneath. She walked over to a reproduction Directoire style desk in the corner of the room. Opening a drawer she brought out the ankle bracelet I had returned to the Chevalier. She sat in a cushioned chair opposite me and handed me the bracelet.

“Thank you so much for retuning my bracelet, Rafael. Would you be so kind and fasten it around my ankle?” She slipped off the mule slipper she was wearing and raised her right leg, pointing a slender foot towards me.

I knelt in front of her and with trembling hands managed to put the bracelet around her ankle and close the snap. I cupped her foot in my hand, marvelling at the softness and smoothness of her skin and then, seemingly not under my own volition, bent my head and sucked on each delicious toe one by one, starting with the big toe. Madame Curtis gasped. I wondered if in surprise or pleasure, but judging what she next said I believed it to be the latter.

“My word Rafael, you certainly know how to get a girl horny!” Her voice held a hint of laughter but was also husky with passion.

I can’t say where the idea of sucking her toes came from but it certainly was the correct thing to do. She groaned as I nibbled her pinkie toe and gasped as I licked along her instep. My tongue continued licking; up her ankle, her lower leg and then, lasciviously and wetly, glided along her silky smooth inner thigh. By now we were both on the luxurious thick pile carpet, and Madame Curtis’s peignoir was untied. I would have won my bet as her unfettered breasts cascaded from the garment. Up, up, my questing tongue continued until I was licking, sipping, supping and sucking at her triangle of lust while Madame Curtis was pulling my clothing off quickly and efficiently. Only a few buttons flew off my shirt and my trousers slid down my legs as if they were a size too large. She wrenched down my underpants, which were rather tight on me given the state of my zob, but once again the garment seemed to float from my thighs. I felt cool air on my genitals, and then a warm wet mouth as Madame Curtis swivelled around so that we were in a soixante–neuf, and then swallowed my now fully erect penis. I had only been made aware of this sexual position, and the name given it, a week ago by Clara, the Belgian schoolteacher. She had been an excellent tutor and I now put all the techniques in which she had coached and instructed me to good effect, licking and sucking on Madame Curtis’s smooth vagin – the first hairless one I had encountered. The local girls of le Boulou were all very proud of their luxuriant growth of pubic hair and even Carla and Jeanette, the two Belgic teachers, sported bushy, although well-trimmed, chattes.

Madame Curtis must have registered my astonishment at her smooth, bare Mont de Venus.

“First time you’ve gone down on a bald beaver, honey?” Obviously Madame Curtis had been brought up not to speak with her mouth full because she had removed my zob from her mouth before asking. I nodded, and my tongue, still sliding along her crinkled lips, made a movement that gave her fresh reason to express her pleasure.

“Jeez, honey, the Chevalier said you were an innocent but you can sure eat pussy!” she said, her voice a little breathless.

I continued feasting on her pink and plump nether lips, sheened with moisture that tasted of tangy lemon, until Madame Curtis again removed her mouth from my zob. It was just as well she did for her ministrations had brought me to the brink of ejaculation.

“Time for you to bury that lovely dick of yours in my pussy,” she ordered.

She lay on her back and opened her legs, and for some moments I savoured the sight of this beautiful woman waiting for me to mount her. Truth to tell it was the first time I had seen a woman completely naked. All the fornicating I experienced up to today had been out doors, and even in summer the girls tended to remove only the minimum of clothing required for penetration. This practise was not just to keep them warm but also to preserve their dignity if someone should come upon them when engaged in sexual congress. We boys preserved our anonymity by simply pulling up our trousers and running away.

I marvelled at Madame Curtis’s beautiful body. The exquisite shape and firmness of her breasts, her conical shaped, strawberry sized, nipples, and her smooth and flawless skin. Her pussy, as she referred to her vagin, which is the similar name in French – la chatte – was a delight to behold, shell like with the pink lips so soft and inviting. My reflective mood was shattered by an irate sounding Madame Curtis.