Author’s note:
This was written while I was in Paris. Sadly, it is NOT based on a true story. Some of the words are French -- you can always use Google Translate if you can’t figure out what’s being said. It’s unlikely to be perfect French anyway, since I had to look things up.

Marie saw him in the crowd before the show. Tall, dirty-blond hair, and quite attractive. He was speaking to one of the guides in English, but somehow it seemed he was aware of her. When she peeked out again, she saw he was sitting in the very front row. When she came out to perform, she felt as if he was watching only her - even though she was one of ten riders. She felt his eyes on her as she put her horse through the delicate steps of the dressage and wondered if he would be at the short meet and greet after.

To her delight she spotted him there, and even though she didn’t catch his eyes on her, she could still feel his gaze. The heat that riding and performing created between her legs grew as she covertly watched him politely speak to some of the other riders. American, she thought, listening to him. Finally, he made his way towards her.

“Bonjour Monsieur,” she smiled as he approached.

“Bonjour Madame,” he replied, his accent flawless. Perhaps he was French after all?

They made small talk, in English, and he asked all the normal questions. But from the start it was clear this was a seduction, although who was seducing who was a good question.

“Do you ride?” She eventually asked.

“Not horses, no,” he replied with a smile.

“Ah. Perhaps I could give you a lesson sometime?”

“I’m afraid I’m staying only for a few more days,” he replied.

So he was a tourist then. That meant time was short.

“Perhaps,” she said moving closer to him, “there is something else you would be interested in riding?”

He looked at her frankly and with great interest.

“Well, I have a motorcycle outside...” he said with a grin.

“And I have an apartment nearby,” she replied, her smile very inviting. “Can you fit two on your motorbike?”

“Only if they hold on very tight,” he said.

“I can do that,” she said, then leaned very close and whispered, “I am very tight.”

His eyes widened a bit and his grin widened.

“Give me a moment,” she murmured.

She would owe Jeane later for taking care of her horse, but paying that debt would be no hardship. The number of times she’d eaten the young woman to orgasm in payment for some favor, or just for their pleasure, were many.

He gave hsi name as Ren, and he was a skilled rider, effortlessly weaving through the ever-present Paris traffic, and soon they were at her small apartment. She got off the bike, her crotch now soaking wet from both the vibrations of the powerful machine and the anticipation of what would come. She had let one hand drift down during the ride, and could feel that even restrained by his jeans, he was quite large.

“That was fun,” she said, then moved close to him, hoping he’d kiss her. He did, and it was glorious. “I love a good ride.”

“So do I,” he replied.

She pulled him close, pressing her body into him and whispering into his ear, “I especially love a very, very rough ride.”

“Do you,” he said, his grin turning from seductive to more ... possessive. The type of grin she’d seen on a number of dominant men. “Then it appears that we have something else in common.”

He followed her up the stairs, and she felt the heat of his body behind her as she unlocked the door. Inside, her place was very small, but tidy, only a few things out of place from her rush to get ready this morning. He looked around politely as she set down her bag and turned to him. Marie moved close, inviting him in for a kiss. She moaned, her body feeling inflamed as his tongue danced in her mouth.

“I should shower first,” she said.

“After,” he said, gripping the top of her ponytail, pulling her head back and kissing her again.

She broke the kiss and went to her knees, undoing his belt and opening his pants. She gasped, pulling his cock out. Her hand barely fit around his mostly hard shaft and she purred, anticipating what it would feel like sliding into her body. She licked the tip, then opened her mouth wide to take in the head. It was a struggle, but one she welcomed, and he was soon fully hard, the taste of his precum making her moan. She was skilled and could swallow a good eighteen cm of cock, but this was longer and quite thick. She dimly thought she would have to increase the size of her practice dildo.

Marie took one of his hands and placed it on her head, then folded her arms behind her. This would give her an idea of how dominant he was. Normally, she preferred the dance between partners, the men discovering how submissive she was, and the women how dominant. But time was short and she needed to be used now, so she would just have to hope he’d get the hint.

He did. He took her ponytail in his hands and pressed deeply into her mouth. It was more exploratory than forceful, but after a few thrusts there was no doubt who was in charge. She closed her eyes and moaned, then tried to wipe away a bit of the drool escaping her mouth. He pulled her hand away.

“So you do enjoy rough play,” he said.

“Tres,” she replied, popping her mouth off his cock. Once again he stopped her when she tried to wipe her lips. She smiled and said, “You like a lover who is a slut, then?”

“Tres,” he said, smiling as he mimicked her tone.

He fucked her mouth for another minute forcing her to continue to drool down her chin. Then he tugged with the hand that had a grip on her hair, guiding her to her feet. She stood, panting, her lips wet and eyes hot.

“Take off your top,” he said.

“You don’t want to do it?”

“I’m afraid I’ll tear it.”

Smiling she slowly lifted her top, exposing her flat, well-muscled abs and a rather confining bra. She was only a C cup, and firm, but when she rode she wanted eyes on her and the horse, not just her tits.

She wondered for a moment what he thought of her, as the top came off, but the interest in his eyes only grew.

“Now the bra.”

“Un moment,” she said, bending to quickly remove her boots. These weren’t her riding boots, those she left at the stable, but the heeled ankle boots that were currently popular in the city. Her socks and tight pants quickly followed, leaving her in high cut panties -- with a very obvious wet spot between her legs -- and her bra.

“Well?” he said, crossing his arms and smiling.

Her bra was quickly dropped to the floor and he stepped forward to run his hands over her full breasts, cupping them from the bottom as if weighing them. His fingers moved to her thick, light-brown nipples, lightly rolling and tugging on them.

He squeezed a bit harder and she moaned.

“You said you like rough.”

“Oui. Tres,” she said, moaning as he twisted and pulled. “I like the um ... oh ... oh ... more ... la douleur.”

Now he twisted harder, pulling up. She panted and started to reach for his hands but he caught her wrists, then held them above her head in one hand. She could smell her sweat and arousal and hoped he wouldn’t be offended.

He didn’t seem to be. In fact he leaned closer to her, inhaling, then ran his free hand down her arm and through the thin, dark hair under it. The hand continued down, fingers tapping one thigh. She opened her legs and those fingers quickly found the sopping cloth between them. Her clit was large, and she gasped when he found it and rubbed in circles. Her hips moved and she squirmed a bit. It was intense, but her hands were held in his grip and as strong as she was, she didn’t think she could easily break it. Not that she wanted to.

He smiled, bringing his fingers to his nose and inhaling.

“I can’t wait to taste you.”

“Oui, oui...”

“But first,” he lightly slapped one breast and she let out a gasp.

“Very rough, you said.”

Dark eyes wide, she nodded.

The next slap was much harder, as was the one to her other breast. She squirmed, her hips rotating with need as, with her hands trapped, he played with her firm tits. He pulled and rolled her nipples, squeezing the long thick nubs while watching for her reaction. The rougher he was, the more turned on she got.

“Where is your bedroom?” he asked, releasing her hands.

She grabbed his shirt and pulled him to the small bedroom and her untidy bed. She hadn’t been expecting visitors. He pushed her onto the bed and she laid there staring as he quickly removed his clothes.

He was tall, a good 10cm over her own 175. Lean, but with excellent tone. She wondered if he was a dancer -- he certainly moved like one. But mostly, her eyes were on that beautiful cock, thick and rigid. She wanted it in her mouth, and her pussy. It would hurt in her ass, but she wanted that too, and wondered if he had that kind of stamina.

He walked over to the bed and, before she could scoot too far away, grabbed an ankle and pulled her toward him. She quickly found her panties removed. He held them bunched in one hand regarding her for a moment then tossed them to the side. She wondered what he’d been thinking. Did he want to gag her with them? She was no stranger to that. She often used panties to gag her female lovers, especially the “straight” ones, enjoying the helpless look in their eyes as they were forced to taste themselves, sometimes for the first time. Of course, some of the men she’d been with had done the same to her, and while it was humiliating, she was no stranger to the taste of pussy. Her own, or another woman’s. And she liked the humiliation.

All thought left her though as he roughly spread her legs wide and pushed two fingers into her sopping cunt. She was so wet that they went right in, although it took some force.

“Mmm,” he smiled, “you are tight.”

“It is better this way, no?”

His answer was to begin licking her outer lips. Her cunt was completely bare -- she was hairless everywhere but her head and under her arms -- and she knew what her exposed cunt looked like. Slick and swollen, with her thick, clear oils oozing out of her. That close, her scent would be extremely strong. Would he like it?

He did. He pressed his face close to her, and she felt the air drawn over her wet, heated skin as he inhaled deeply. She felt his tongue again, eagerly sliding between both pair of lips, scooping up her essence.

He brought her off quickly, but didn’t stop, driving her toward another orgasm as soon as the first one crested. His hands mauled her breasts and nipples, squeezing, pulling and slapping them while he sucked hard on her clit. She was sensitive after her orgasm, but he expertly played with her, this time not interested in making her cum, just taking her to the edge and holding her there. Eventually, she started begging.

“S’il te plait, s’il te plait ... I need...”

He pulled back leaving her hanging.

“Non, non non non.”

“Do you want my cock?”

“Oui, oui, yes, please...”

“Put it in,” he said, pushing her back on the bed and positioning himself between her knees.

She started reaching for his cock.

“C’mon,” he urged, “show me what a slut you are.”

Her hand found his cock and she pressed it against her drenched opening, then tried to impale herself. But he was still intent on teasing her and grabbed her wrists, once again holding them above her head. The scent of her sweat and arousal surrounded them.

Her hips rotated, and her pupils were dilated and she moaned as he teased her.

“Je veux ta bite, je veux ta bite,” she repeated

She froze as he finally started pressing into her cunt, then gasped as the head entered her.

“Uh ... si grand, si grand!”

He pressed into her fast enough that her walls were forced wide and her body wasn’t given time to adjust to his size. Then he slowly started to fuck her with long strokes. She felt like her insides were being rearranged, and it hurt, but she wanted more.