Chapter 3: Le lendemain

When I open my eyes, she’s standing in the doorway looking at me, her t-shirt just too short to effectively hide her -unwrapped- mons. Definitely from below.

“Get any sleep?”

“Oh, yeah, good bed, that. Can I sunbathe topless here? Or do you want me in bikini?”

“Let me your judge. The neighbor is 84 and has a weak heart. We don’t want to drop him dead off his stoop, do we?”

In a quick swing, her t-shirt is on my head. For a moment I enjoy her scent, but my curiosity is greater. I yank the pubic veil from my eyes and see her gorgeous, dark body in all its feminine glory before my eyes. Earnestly, I try to reach her face, but the route from pubes, alongside prickly nipples is long. She laughs, knocking my deck back “caught!” when she sees little Desi standing there pointing up. “Come, dirty old man, naked breakfast on the patio.”

Table set, the marguerite just delivered by boulanger Renée already broken, breakfast tea poured, toppings, enfin, complete. The sun shines on her skin. When she puts thick jam on her sandwich, I hope she spills, on her prongy breasts. And so I say.

“You have a horny mind. And then licking me clean for a long time, for sure.”

I blush. “I’ll pump up a double air mattress for you. And you need to lubricate yourself, here, we’re at 720 meters, UV XXL here. I have oil, milk and cream on my desk, choose while I spread your bed.”

She chooses oil, as I hoped. “Do me back” and reaches for the spay. My hands wander from her shoulders down her spine to her tailbone, over her full buttocks and down her side back up. I stir the base of her breasts; she giggles.

“You are so different! With all men, I’d already been on my stomach, with their nail deep inside me.”

“Oh, no, gosh. can I do your front too?” She nods “Lie down then” And then I spray the oil over her beautifully pronged breasts and rub her nipples tight with my palms.

Then southward, her tight belly, the v down to her full mons, then up from her feet, until I get to caress her tight, hard thighs, on the inside. She spreads enough to feel her lips with my little finger and side of my hand, not too erotic, Desi!

“Readyyyyyy girl, lie back and stew, I’m going to work in the garden.”

I drive by with my wheelbarrow too often, she hears me on the softly squealing and she poses a bit. Desi grows a little.

I cut hand-sized roses - warm orange ‘pink compassion’ - and put one in the slit under her mons, one on her navel and two on her nipples and two on her armpits. Beautiful contrast to her dark skin. She smiles, I grab her smartphone and take some pictures to share later. She looks sweet and -as far as I’m concerned- still virginal...

She smiles “Let me get a good look at you” and I spin around in front of her, proudly showing that I don’t have a bulging old man’s belly, have to hold my arms high to avoid having hangover tits, twist my nipples hard and make rapier movements with my proud, thin prick, quite long for his age. I pull back his cap a little, so he can watch too. The heat makes my balls hang low swinging. She thinks it’s cute how my buttocks sink into my thighs a little wrinkled. And that’s what I find embarrassing about my body. “No, I think that’s sweet, so furrowed. My brother of 16 is tight and smooth, but still a lousy lover. And you must have pleased many women already.”

I pull a parasol over the airbed and flatten my tanned body against her side, boldly placing a hand on her belly. She falls asleep and snores softly, sweetly. I let my eyes slide unabashedly over her body in erotic fantasies, but I too sink into a sunbathing sleep. I jolt awake as Desi pours his manly pleasure over my navel, shockingly, without hands.

“I must be teasing you too much” she says and runs a finger through my still warm seed, licking a finger off, chuckling and washing my belly white.

“« gicler sa foutre » is what it’s called here, do you have a wet slit now?”

“For your information, yes. Sounds sexy by the way in French, squirt goo, you can hear it rustle ... do you want to watch me get myself ready?”

“And that in turn is called « jouir », there’s something about getting happy in it, better than getting ready, that sounds so pragmatic...”

I sit cross-legged between her spread legs, paying close attention to where her long fingers with bright red nails seek out her fun spots. Her glossy black lips fold open to the flaming flamous I hoped she would have. As her belly tightens and her mons jerks, my eyes jump from pussy to face, orgasm reading is so beautiful. “Jouiiiiiir” accompanies her womanizing. Her fingers shine wet. She looks me straight in the eyes until it is quiet again behind her mons. She smiles “you are right, jouir is happier. Or is it because you’re the first guy I trust enough to look at my fingers?”

As we step into « La Commerce », both in skinny jeans and clinging t-shirts, she with all too effective cleavage, Hervé greets me with bisous on both cheeks, looking at her questioningly.

“Diane, une amie de ma nièce Lizz. She’s been keeping me company for a while” I introduce her.

He wraps his arms around her “Jolie, n’est elle?” and the bisous get charge as she presses against him with her knee behind his buttocks. I can imagine, Hervé is a beautiful man, I would love to feel his hard crotch against mine too.

The plat du jour today is rabbit, lapin chasseur, with salade gésier beforehand, and a red Saint-Pourcin. When we are seated, he pours us a sparkling Vouvray, “to celebrate you” he says, looking into her eyes, still too tight in his jeans.