Business in The City of Lights
written by:
Joshua

I've always enjoyed traveling to Paris, although this journey was more for business than pleasure. By this time in my life I'd come to own four manufacturing centers, but it was the French center which I visited most often. I'd timed this visit for two reasons. First, I needed to meet with my French managers to ensure they were running the factories as I intended. But, to be honest, Philippe and Gerard always met my expectations. To be even more precise, they always exceed my expectations and for that reason, I'd come to trust them implicitly with the factories and employees. I'd come to know that despite being many thousands of miles away and separated by the Atlantic Ocean, they were men who could be counted on. In the twenty years they'd worked for me, they had never let me down. We were scheduled to me at Le Cinq, my favorite Parisian restaurant where we would discuss business before putting the facts and figures away and enjoying fine wine and dining. But there was also a second reason for coming to Paris. This trip was scheduled for mid-October, in the heart of autumn, my favorite season of the year. I thoroughly enjoyed walking along the Champs-Elysees, my shoes cushioned by a carpet of red and yellow leaves. I enjoyed watching French lovers, arm in arm, as they strode beneath the giant legs of the Eiffel Tower. And anyone who has ever made his or her way on the pathways along the River Seine in autumn and watched the river boats slowly moving upstream, the crews returning the silent stares of those on shore will always recall spending time in the shadow of the Cathedral de Notre Dame.

So, after a ten hour flight in which I arrived in mid-morning, I settled into my room at the Hotel du Palais, just a few blocks from Le Louvre, and immediately fell asleep. Just before heading off to the bedroom, I placed a packet of documents I'd need for the meeting by the hotel door. I'd learned years ago that sleeping as soon as I arrived allowed me to shake off the physical slowness associated with jetlag. I arose around five o'clock, showered, and dressed for the evening. Because Le Cinq catered to a certain, more affluent clientele, I chose a coal black, silk t-shirt covered by a black blazer. Grey trousers and black loafers completed the ensemble. A dash of cologne, and I was in a taxi headed for the restaurant.

Now, I'm not usually the type of man who angers quickly. I take my time and think matters through, analyzing the many possibilities that cause a certain event to occur before reacting. But now that I was here at the restaurant, and had been for more than an hour and a half, I was beginning to grow irritable because I was still alone. The seven o'clock time for our meeting had come and gone, and after two drinks, I was still alone. Henri, the maître'd, had already come by twice to explain that the Parisian traffic, which had an international reputation for being bad at all times, had actually grown worse. "Excuzes moi, monsieur," he said, wringing his hands before his chest, "but your associates called and explained that because they are still many miles from the city, they have instructed one of their junior managers to meet you here this evening." Henri's green eyes danced in their sockets, and I realized he was worried that I would be disappointed in him for delivering bad news. Or, possibly, he believed I was prepared to raise my voice at him. His voice betrayed his fear but he knew what to do as the maitre'd. He stated "I will ensure to bring this person to your table immediately when they arrive." He removed a pocket watch from under his apron, glanced at the dial, and said to me, "By my calculations, Monsieur Alden, your guest should arrive within the next fifteen minutes."

"That is no problem, Henri,' I said as a wide grin spread across Henri's tired, aged face. "Please deliver a bottle of your best chardonnay when they arrive, s'il vous plait." Henri bowed at the waist then wafted away from the table, much like a ghost drifting across a haunted house. I glanced at my watch and estimated the time my new dinner date would arrive. In the meantime, I continued to sip on the third scotch Henri had delivered. The amber-colored liquid warmed my throat with each swallow, the alcohol taking its toll on my empty stomach.

I guess I'd allowed time to slip away because just as I finished the drink in my hand, I noticed the front door to the restaurant open. What caught my attention was the turning of every head in the restaurant toward the person who had now entered the small space and stood talking to Henri. I must admit, my attention was also focused in that direction as well. A tall, black-haired woman had entered the restaurant and had immediately drawn the focus of almost every one of the diners. Henri listened to her speak, then after quickly turning on his heel, began to walk across the dining room, his attention on me. It was clear that he was escorting this new arrival to my table. No more than two steps behind him strode a tall, strikingly beautiful woman. Her long black hair fell from her head, gracefully drifting past her shoulders in dark, silky waves to just below her shoulder blades. She was of medium height although the four inch stiletto heels certainly added something to how tall she was. She wore a white, satin blouse covered by a blue blazer, a blazing red skirt, and black seamed stockings. As she and Henri made their way to my table, I noticed she was carrying a brown leather briefcase which seemed rather heavy, as if the satchel were loaded with many weights. I also noticed every man in the restaurant continued to stare openly at her, much to the chagrin of their female companions. Heads turned and eyes focused as she continued to make her way to my table. It was then that I heard the soft click-click-click sound of high heels announcing her progress across the crowded room. When she and Henri finally arrived at my table, it was then I noticed her eyes. Brown pools stared down at me, lined with light mascara, the lashes long and sensuous.

Henri bowed at the waist before stepping aside and indicating with his extended arm for the woman to enter the booth. As she slid her long, lithe body into the confined space, I detected the faint scent of her perfume, a intriguing aroma that instantly suggested mysterious places. Henri stepped back and said, "Monsieur Alden, allow me to introduce Mademoiselle Yvonne Pepard. She has arrived for your meeting." As a good maitre'd should, Henri disappeared, although I knew that if I needed him, he would reappear in an instant. Two minutes after Mademoiselle Pepard sat, the wine arrived as well, and the young waiter filled our glasses. So far, neither I nor Miss Pepard had spoken, her attention focused on removing several documents from the heavy leather case. Finally, taking my wine glass in hand, I lifted the glass toward her and said, "Mademoiselle Pepard, my name is Monsieur Alden, but I'm sure you know that." She lifted her glass slowly, clinked the thin rim of the glass with mine and together we sipped the wine in silence. I noticed her fingers were long and slender and when her eyes met mine for the first time, I felt a strange, sinking feeling, as if she was saying something to me I had heard before. From somewhere off on the distance, I thought I heard soft music playing. When she lowered her glass, she raised her hand, and I took it in mine, the skin soft and warm.

"Oui, Monsieur Alden, I am familiar with who you are," she said, a deep huskiness to her voice. "Your associates requested that I meet you for dinner here at Le Cinq to discuss the achievements your European division has made since your last visit to France." Her hand remained in mine for what was surely a lengthy amount of time, but I couldn't seem to release her hand from mine. A voice in my mind asked if I was being inappropriate, if I was displaying gentlemanly behavior. But I realized Yvonne hadn't removed her hand either, and for another long, silent moment, she and I simply stared at each other. Only the sound of Henri's voice brought me back to reality.

"Monsieur Alden, excuzes moi," he said, his aged eyes scanning Yvonne in an approving manner. "May I take your dinner orders?" He waited patiently while Yvonne and I looked over the menus, then made his way to the kitchen to personally deliver the requests. Yvonne returned her attention to a sheaf of papers she had pulled from the briefcase and laid the documents on the table. For the next twenty minutes, she efficiently and capably explained the procedures she and the other European managers had instituted and the results that had come about as a result of their efforts. By the end of the year, she explained, the corporation's profits should exceed twenty billion dollars, an increase of more than ten percent from the previous year. With her presentation now complete, Yvonne returned the files to her case and turned toward me with an expectant expression framing her very attractive face.

"Philippe said you had documents for me, Monsieur Alden," Yvonne said as she looked at the seat beside me for the packet I now realized lay beside the hotel door. I'd completely forgotten to bring the file with me. Yvonne realized there were no documents for her to take to Philippe. She also noticed the look of embarrassment on my face. When I explained what I'd done, and that the packet of documents were still in my room at the Hotel du Palais, she was quick to let me off the hook. "Monsieur Alden, you have traveled a great distance to be here: it is only understandable that you would leave them in your room." To my surprise, Yvonne placed her right hand over mine, a move she made to reassure me that my mistake was understandable. "Perhaps we could obtain the packet later, no?"

The touch of Yvonne's hand on mine sent shivers through my body. I don't know if it was the wine, the effects of jet lag, or just the fact that Yvonne was so damn sexy, but I realized something was happening to me at that moment in a quiet restaurant in Paris, France. It was as if a sort of magic had entered the booth, and I couldn't help but ask myself if Yvonne was feeling the same emotion I was. I fought the urge to lean forward and kiss her, knowing full well that kissing her would not be taken well. Fortunately for me, Henri arrived with several waiters and our dinners, and he expertly laid the plates around the table.

As usual, the food at Le Cinq was excellent. Yvonne and I chatted quietly over our meals and it was during the entrée that she informed me she was not a single woman, but instead, a wife with three children. Her husband, she said, was one of the better-known heart surgeons in France and often left the country to perform heart transplants in other nations around the world to include the United States. "He is, in fact, in New York City this very moment as a consultant on a difficult case," she said. We continued to chat for several more moments when she asked to be excused to go to the ladies room. As of our booth was bugged with a hidden listening device, Henri suddenly appeared again, and pulled the table from the booth just enough for Yvonne to exit the small space. I waited in silence for her return.

Yvonne returned and Henri again assisted her in taking her seat. Just as she slid into the booth, she turned her body slightly to the left to ease getting into the tight space between the table and the booth. Just as she leaned to the left, her skirt slid upwards several inches, revealing black lace stocking tops. I found myself mesmerized by the sight of her stocking tops, unable to avert my gaze. I realized after several long seconds that Yvonne was now staring at me, and my face turned a deep shade of red from the embarrassment. To her credit, Yvonne simply pulled the hem of her skirt downward until the stocking tops disappeared under the red fabric. I sat in complete silence, sure now that she would inform me that it was time for her to leave.

But to my surprise, rather than leave, Yvonne ordered coffee for each of us. She explained to Henri in French to bring us a special blend, one I had never heard of, along with two petite pastries she said French citizens enjoyed after dinner. The pastries and coffee arrived promptly and before I knew it, Yvonne and I had completed our meals. As I looked around Le Cinq, I noticed that she and I were the last of the evening's patrons still in the small dining room. Henri waited patiently at the door but I knew the time for Yvonne and I to leave had arrived. Once again, as she slid her body across the seat, her skirt rose again and I was again rewarded with another excellent view of her stocking top. And again, Yvonne caught me staring at her legs. But rather than return the hem of the skirt back to where it concealed her stocking top, she did nothing. I lifted the heavy briefcase from the floor and escorted her to the restaurant's entrance. As I walked behind her, I couldn't help but notice how her long hair actually fell to below her waist. The long strands of her hair fell to just above her well-shaped ass, framing her ass cheeks in a sensual way. When we arrived at the door, I asked Henri to order a taxi, sure now that Yvonne would return to her home and her children. Yvonne spoke to Henri in French, and although I am not fluent in the language, I understood enough of what she and Henri said to realize Yvonne instructed Henri to call for a single taxi, not two as I expected. I wasn't exactly sure what was happening, other than to believe that Yvonne was being economical by ordering one taxi to take me to my hotel, and her to her home.

Yvonne and I waited patiently outside the restaurant, chatting about France, the sights of Paris, and other mundane topics. After a few moments, the taxi arrived and I held the door open for Yvonne. As if it were planned, her short skirt again rode upward and I again found myself staring at her stocking tops. I slid in beside Yvonne and waited for her to provide the taxi driver her address. It was only after I heard her instruct the driver to deliver us to the Hotel du Palais that I realized she wanted me to be the first to arrive at our resting places for the evening. I was disappointed actually, because I truly wanted to spend more time with Yvonne, if at least to learn more about her. "Yvonne, we should take you home first," I protested to her, certain her children would need her at this late hour. But she would have none of my protests, and once again recited the address of the hotel to the driver. Just as the taxi pulled away from the curb, I felt the need to apologize to her for openly staring at her legs. "Yvonne, please excuse me for being so ungentlemanly earlier at the restaurant," I said. "I certainly did not mean to stare."

"Monsieur Alden..." Yvonne began, but I stopped her. By now, I had come to believe she and I had reached the point where she could address me by my first name. She grinned sheepishly and nodded her head in agreement. "As you wish, Steve. I did not take offense at your staring at me," she said, a certain lilt to her voice. "I have come to expect as much from American men." At first, I was taken aback by Yvonne's remark, and withdrew to my corner of the back seat. But then, and although the interior of the taxi was mostly dark, I clearly saw a wide grin on Yvonne's face. It became clear she was pulling my leg. I felt simultaneously relieved and humored, aware now that Yvonne was not as much a stick in the mud French woman I had met so many times before. Just as we began to laugh together over her comment, the taxi driver drove the taxi across one of the many potholes that dot the Parisian streets. Yvonne and I were thrown together, our bodies crashing together in a heap of humanity. I raised my hands to break my fall, but the combination of the taxi's forward speed and the driver's attempt to avoid the sidewalk caused me to fall across Yvonne's lap. I don't know why, but the first thought that entered my brain as I lay across this beautiful French woman's lap was the silky touch of her stockings under my open palms. I felt Yvonne's leg muscles tighten as my hand roamed across her leg. In a flash, I was back to a sitting position, my eyes glued to Yvonne's face. I was certain that now she would be angry at me, certain she would suspect that while I had nothing to do with the taxi driver's lack of driving skills, she would assume that I had spent too much time sprawled across her lap and had intentionally run my hand across her shapely legs. But as she had so many times this evening, Yvonne again surprised me with her reaction.

Yvonne extended her right hand and placed her open palm against my left cheek. "Are you alright, Steve?" she asked, her eyes wide from the temporary terror that filled the taxi. "Are you injured?" When I assured her I was uninjured, Yvonne expressed relief, but her hand remained on my cheek. Muted city lights and the sound of traffic drifted in and out of the taxi, as we continued our journey to the hotel, but all I heard was my heart beating and pounding in my chest. Yvonne and I stared at each other, and I decided I'd restrained myself for long enough. I didn't care that she was married, I didn't care that she had children: all I wanted to do was to kiss her, to feel my lips on hers while we sped along the dark streets in the one city in the world best known for lovers. Yvonne made no move toward me, but I was certain that she would not resist my attempt to kiss her. Closer now, my face so close to hers that I could feel her breath. She closed her eyes and I felt my lips make the first contact with Yvonne's, her lips full and luscious. I tasted the wine we'd had at dinner on her tongue and felt her raise her hands to the back of my head. While Yvonne wound her fingers through my hair, my own hands found her black-stockinged legs again, my fingers tracing a path from her knees to her thighs. When I felt the hem of her skirt under my fingers, I was certain Yvonne would stop my advances, sure she would firmly grasp my hand and remove it from her silk-covered leg. I was only half-correct in my assumption, however. I continued to slide the tips of my fingers under the hem of her skirt, the nerve endings in my fingertips stimulated by the sensual feel of silk on my skin. Yvonne pulled my lips closer to hers, and slid her tongue into my mouth. In reaction, I pressed my body to hers, the prominent bulges of her tits flattened against my chest.

By now, my fingers had reached the lace of her stocking tops. I felt the lacy ridges under my fingers and realized I had two choices. I could either continue to track my hands upward until I found her panties, or I could stop now, break the kiss, and end this unplanned but hot and erotic encounter in the back seat of a speeding Parisian taxi. I chose to break the kiss, and reluctantly pulled back from Yvonne who simply stared at me. Just as I began to speak, to tell her I was sorry, the taxi came to a sudden halt, and once again, our bodies were thrown together. But rather than engage in another kiss, Yvonne and I were able to brace ourselves. I couldn't help but stare at Yvonne as the hotel doorman opened the door behind me. Yvonne and I remained seated, aware that what happened in the next few moments would dictate the remainder of the evening. I heard the doorman behind me clear his throat, letting us know we'd arrived at my hotel and that he was holding the door open for us to leave the taxi. I finally decided to speak. "Well, it appears we've arrived at my hotel, Yvonne," I said. "Tell me what happens next." Yvonne smiled and leaned across my chest. In French, she asked the doorman to open her taxi door and I saw from the corner of my eye the military-like uniform flash behind the taxi and appear at Yvonne's door. In a flash, the door was opened and Yvonne slid her well-toned body out of the taxi while I turned to my right and met her as she made her way to the hotel's front door. She locked her arm in mine as we made our way to the elevator. As soon as the doors closed behind her, Yvonne lunged at me, her arms around my shoulders, her body pressed to mine again, her lips welding themselves to mine. In the back of my mind, I felt the elevator rising but I also felt the length of my cock rising as well. As Yvonne pressed her tongue deeply into my mouth, I wrapped my arms around her waist and began to tug upward on the hem of her red skirt. Although I couldn't see behind her, I could feel the stocking tops under my excited fingers. Farther upward, now, and my hands began to cup Yvonne's shapely ass in my hands. Black satin covered her ass cheeks, the sensation in my hands as sensual as the feel of the stocking tops. I was certain Yvonne would stop me at that point, but instead, she began to moan softly.

"Mon dieu, mon dieu," she moaned over and over, her head thrown back now, a carpet of black hair half covering her face, her eyes closed as she held her body close to mine. "Steve, Mon Cheri," she cried out when she felt me slide my hands under her panties and onto the soft skin of her right ass cheek. "Oui, oui, oui," Yvonne cried when I pushed my lips on her neck and began to coat her throat with my wet, hungry tongue. Yvonne was lost in the moment, as was I, and although I sensed the elevator car was nearing my floor, I didn't care. I turned her quickly to the right and pressed her body against the elevator car wall. Yvonne responded by lifting her left leg, the high heel of her heft foot sliding up and down my leg, the thin heel scraping the back of my leg through my trousers. I pressed forward now, determined to have this unique woman, determined to take her to my room and make love to her. With my left hand still inside her panties, I raised my right hand and quickly slid it under her white, satin blouse. My hand sought out and immediately found her tits, the fingers sliding under the lace bra, searching, seeking, finally finding the erect nipple. I felt the elevator car come to a halt, the car lurching to a stop, and the doors opening. A breeze entered the car as the silver doors separated, and although I had my lips pressed tightly against Yvonne's neck and my hand remained pressed firmly against her nipple, I sensed something was wrong. The sound of someone gasping brought me back to reality.

An elderly couple stood in the now opened elevator door. A small, grey-haired lady stood staring with wide, green eyes while her hand tightly clutched her purse. Her husband, also standing wide-eyed, stood by her side, his arm around his wife's shoulder as he pulled the small woman closer to him. When Yvonne finally realized we were no longer alone, she acted in a way that left me in utter astonishment. Stepping away from me, and my hands leaving her body as she did, Yvonne, brushed the hair from her face, straightened her clothing, and stepped around the elderly couple and into the hallway. Deciding to follow her lead, I too stepped around the old man and woman, their eyes glued to me. But as I passed by them, I couldn't help but grin when the old man winked at me, his sign that he approved of the sight he and his wife had seen as the elevator door opened and they were presented with the unexpected sight of a man and woman close to having sex in a French elevator. Just as I stood beside the old man, he mumbled something I couldn't understand, but which made Yvonne laugh loudly. Before I could ask her what was so amusing, she quickly grasped me by the hand and allowed me to lead her to my room. While I fumbled with the heavy, old-fashioned door key, Yvonne stood behind me, pressing her lips to the back of my neck, and wrapping her arms around my waist. After what seemed an eternity, I finally managed to open the wide door and escort Yvonne into my room. We tumbled into the well-decorated room, a flurry of arms, legs, and locked lips. While we kissed, I attempted to guide Yvonne to the wide, comfortable bed, but she had other plans.

Rather than fall into a tumble upon the bed, Yvonne took the lead and guided me to a high-backed chair located near the window, our coats falling to the floor as we pirouetted across the floor in an erotic dance. I was surprised at her strength as she placed both hands upon my chest and pushed me so hard back and downward that my backward motion caused the chair to tip backward on its hind two legs. I looked up at Yvonne whose eyes were now focused on me, and could only ask myself what came next. I mean, where I had started the evening with Yvonne in a professional manner, now, here we were hours later in my hotel room, and only moments before, I had had my hand up her dress while my fingers caressed her bare ass cheeks. But here we were now, Yvonne standing at my feet, and me sitting in an expensive chair at the Hotel du Palais in Paris with an incredibly hard cock. I found that I was enjoying having Yvonne take the lead and waited patiently for her to make her next move. I didn't have to wait long.

In an instant, Yvonne lunged at me again, as she had earlier, wedging her body into the chair and pressed against mine. Her black stockinged legs slid beside mine, pinning me into the chair. Yvonne leaned forward, pressed her lips behind my right ear and began a wet, oral journey down my neck, across my lips, on my eyes, and any other part of my body she wished to lay her tongue upon in order to excite me. I wrapped my arms around her waist, raised the back of her blouse, and using both hands, unclasped her bra. With my hands still under her blouse, I moved them to the front of her body where I found her tits, firm and round, the nipples extended like fleshy thimbles. I had waited long enough to see and taste Yvonne's tits, I decided, and raised Yvonne's blouse up and away, her nipples now exposed and at eye level. "Oh, fuck," I said, as I extended my neck and for the first time, I was able to view her nipples. She sat bare-chested in my lap, straddling me, her weight resting on my hard, erect cock which pressed against her panty-covered pussy mound.

For the next several moments, I sucked Yvonne's nipples, the right and left, alternating, while she arched her back to feed me with as much tit and nipple as possible. She too moaned although I couldn't see her for the mat of long, black hair covering her face and draped about my shoulders. I sucked greedily on her nipples while her hands wound their way through my hair and listened to her moans above my head. I heard Yvonne moaning my name and decided it was time to relocate to the bed and make love to this amazing, yet oh so mysterious woman.

But just as she had since the evening began, Yvonne had other plans. Just as I pulled my head reluctantly from her left nipple, Yvonne moved her hands from my shoulders and grasped the collar of my shirt. I looked upward at Yvonne and heard her say, "Now, Monsieur Steve, it is my turn to look and enjoy, n'est pas?" In an instant, Yvonne ripped my shirt from my chest, the silk material tearing easily under the strength of her clasped fists. Suddenly, my chest lay bare, my own nipples erect, and Yvonne, still perched upon my lap, staring at my naked skin. "Mon dieu," she said softly before bending her neck and placing her lips squarely on my right nipple. Now, for a man, my nipples are extraordinarily sensitive, and any touch to them particularly during sensual times, excites me to a higher degree. I moaned loudly as Yvonne bathed my nipples in her saliva, exactly the same as I had done with hers only moments before. While she sucked my nipples, I placed my hands on her ass and raised her skirt, the touch of her black silk panties under my fingertips. Yvonne began to rock her hips back and forth, dry fucking me while she alternated sucking between the left and right nipple. She gradually increased the speed which her still panty-clad pussy slid across my trouser-enclosed cock, bit the sensation was the same; I knew that if she continued, I would come in my pants rather than in her cunt. I removed one hand from her ass, placed the fingers firmly under her chin and lifted her head to look into my eyes. When I nodded at her, she understood and leaned forward to kiss me deeply in acknowledgement of my desires.

But rather than walk Yvonne to the wide bed, I once again placed both hands under her silk-covered ass, stood, and with Yvonne's legs wrapped around my waist, carried her to the bed. We kissed the entire distance to the bed, my instincts guiding me, the bed like a beacon my erect cock homed in on. When I felt my legs make contact with the mattress, I folded my body at the waist, laid Yvonne upon her back, and stood to look over this black-haired, near naked French woman. She stared back at me, her face inviting, her desires clear. "I am all yours, Steve," she said as she brought herself to a sitting position. I raised my hands to remove the torn shirt and felt Yvonne's hands tugging on my belt. She quickly opened my trousers, slid the garment and my underwear down past my ankles, and assisted me in removing the trousers, socks and shoes. I now stood completely naked before her, my cock erect and pointing at Yvonne. In silence, I watched as she removed her blouse, bra, and skirt before leaning forward to take my hard cock in her hand. In deliberate motions, Yvonne slid her closed fist methodically up and down the shaft while I gently rocked my hips forward to enjoy every second of her hand around my cock. Yvonne raised her chin and our eyes met. "Would you like me to suck your cock, Steve?" she asked. I could only nod my head and watch in awe as Yvonne extended her neck, opened her mouth, and slid the first of two inches of my hard dick between her lips. She wrapped her arms around my lower waist, placed her hands on my naked ass cheeks, and while sucking me deeper and deeper into her mouth, simultaneously pulled my ass forward to allow every inch of my concrete-like cock to drive deeply into her mouth.

I began to moan her name loudly, as sucking sounds filled the room. "Oh, yes, Yvonne, yes," I moaned louder and louder, the tempo now increasing, Yvonne's black hair flaying about her head as she eagerly sucked my dick to the very deepest regions of her mouth. Faster now, faster, until I felt an orgasm boiling between my legs. "Oh, Yvonne," I cried, "I could come in your mouth." My comment reached Yvonne's ears and resulted in her sucking my cock even faster. Her hands were pressed so tightly on my ass that I could feel the enjoyable pain of her long red-colored nails digging into the skin. But I didn't care about the pain. I was only interested in the pleasure this unique woman was giving me. When Yvonne pulled me as close as possible and clamped her teeth down on the shaft of my cock, I began to come in her mouth, to explode a steady, thick stream of crème into and down her throat. My ass was bucking so forcefully forward that each thrust rocked her body backward several inches, but to her credit, my cock never escaped from the bond created by her lips. I grasped the back of her head when I exploded, the sensation so intense I realized I was standing on my toes. On and on and on I pushed, my cock gradually becoming limp as it quieted down from the orgasm. But Yvonne wouldn't release my cock, wouldn't free the shaft from between her lips. I realized she was drinking every drop of my come and that she would only allow my cock to slide completely from the internal regions of her mouth when she had had her fill of white, hot cock crème. When she realized my cock had finally run dry, she reluctantly reclined on the bed, her body now covered in a fine layer of perspiration. She bent her legs, her shapely, stocking-covered leg spread, her feet still encased in stiletto high heels, her arms extended and inviting me to her. I bent forward, placed my body over hers, and kissed her deeply. Immediately, the salty taste of my come entered my mouth as our tongues entwined in a romantic, erotic dance. After a moment, I rose from Yvonne's body, smiled at her, then brought myself to a standing position once again.

I had no intentions of simply standing and staring at this amazingly beautiful woman, however. Instead, I once again bent at the waist, placed my lips on her right nipple and began to suck the erect button. From there, I continued my oral voyage down her stomach, pausing only at her belly button, then proceeding downward until my head was positioned just above her thick black mat of pussy hair. By now Yvonne had placed a pillow under head and could easily watch what I was doing.

I placed both hands on Yvonne's stocking tops and gently pushed her legs apart. Yvonne knew what was coming and willingly assisted me, her knees bent, the thin tip of her stiletto heels digging into the mattress. Her entire pussy came into view, the lips glistening with erotic juices, the inner folds inviting me in. Extending my right hand, I used the tip of the index finger to trace a path from her lower stomach to the patch of cunt hair just below my chin. Slowly, I slid the fingertip around the outer folds of Yvonne's cunt lips and watched as her body reacted to my touch. Yvonne's ass shifted on the mattress, but she didn't move away from my touch. Moving my body forward, I used two fingers to spread the spread her soaking wet cunt lips apart before inserting the index finger on my left hand. Yvonne moaned loudly as the finger probed deep and wide in her cunt, my knuckles lost in the carpet of thick black hair. When I removed my finger from Yvonne's pussy, I heard her protest before reinserting two fingers and began to finger fuck the French woman, alternating between two speeds, one fast, one slow, the knuckles of my fingers now as soaked as Yvonne's pussy. Yvonne lifted her left leg, a move which gave me greater and deeper access to her cunt. But I wanted to experience Yvonne in every way possible, and the sight of this woman wearing black stockings, black stiletto heels excited me. I reacted by diving forward and placing my lips firmly upon her cunt, the musky scent of her pussy driving me deeper and deeper into the pits of passion. From above me, I heard Yvonne whisper "Yes, Cheri, do it." Taking my cue, I flicked my tongue upward and inward, licking her clit and inner cunt lips in one swift motion. Because I don't enjoy eating a woman's pussy quickly, I slowed my motions, taking my time, first sucking on her clit and drawing it deeply into between my lips before releasing the button and driving my tongue into her cunt. Yvonne placed her hands on the back of my head and pressed me forward, as intent on coming in my mouth as I had in hers. Over and over I heard cries of "Cheri...Cheri....Cheri...oh, Mon dieu, Cheri" as she allowed herself to sink into the pleasure I was providing her. Yvonne's moans were so loud I heard them echo from the walls. She began to raise and lower her naked ass from the mattress, and although eating her cunt while she moved so rapidly was a bit difficult, I was able to maintain contact with her pussy with my lips. On and on I drove, intent now to have her come, focused on the clit, sucking it deeper and deeper into my hungry mouth.

Yvonne's orgasm exploded on my face as no other woman I had ever been with before. Her ass was in an upraised position when I felt her inner thigh muscles tighten as she braced her legs for the coming sexual explosion. Yvonne's fingers pulled at my hair, holding my head in place as I continued my oral assault on her hairy cunt. I didn't care that several of her cunt hairs coated my tongue: All I wanted was to have her orgasm last as long as possible. Although she gradually slowed her body movements, I continued on, lapping away at her cunt, kissing her pussy lips, massaging her clit with my now exhausted tongue. When her orgasm ended, I felt Yvonne again tugging at my head, pulling me toward her. Our lips met again, as they had after my orgasm, and as she had done with me, I shared her orgasmic juices with her, my tongue painting the inside of her mouth with the same juices which coated my face. Yvonne lapped at my mouth and lips, drinking her juices and cleaning my face. She lay back again, her eyes closed, a smile creasing her lips. In French, she whispered, "I surrender, Cheri, I surrender."

But I was not ready to stop. No, this woman had driven me to insatiable levels of desire and I desperately wanted to fuck her now that my cock had recovered from the wonderful blowjob Yvonne had given me earlier. I looked below my waist and saw my cock was harder and longer than I had ever experienced, and I knew it was time. I leaned forward, placed my mouth against her right ear and whispered, "I need you now, baby. Now."

Yvonne slid her right hand between our sweat-soaked bodies and grasped my rock-hard cock in her fist. She guided the meaty tube between her legs, again bending her knees and raising her high heeled feet. "Oui, ma petit, it is time.," she said as she placed the tip of my cock against her soaking wet outer cunt lips. "I need you too, Steve." I felt Yvonne slide her body downward, a move which caused the tip of my cock to slide just inside her cunt lips. "I want you inside me, baby, now." I pushed forward and three inches of hard cock slid between Yvonne's cunt lips. "More, Steve, more, s'il vous plait," she begged as I began to push harder now, inch by hard inch of cock invading Yvonne's hairy cunt with each forward thrust. Beside me, I felt Yvonne's silk stockings caressing my legs, the sensation driving me deeper and deeper into passion. She and I quickly established a rhythm of forward and backward thrusts, Yvonne expertly meeting my forward movements with movements of her own which made me realize I had never been fucked like this before. Moans escaped from our mouths, the sounds beating the walls, and, I'm sure, escaping into the hall. I sensed another orgasm building, knowing that if I continued to fuck Yvonne in this manner, my cock would detonate in another crashing explosion. I also sensed Yvonne was nearing another orgasm when I felt her cunt muscles tighten around the shaft of the cock that was pounding away at her pussy. Just as I felt the tell-tale signs that my orgasm was on the verge of taking off, Yvonne reached upward, and in one quick motion, threw my body to the right, moved out from underneath me, raised her body from the bed and once again straddled me, her cunt now swallowing my cock. I was amazed that Yvonne could move so quickly, but rather than think about how she had managed the sexual position change, decided to focus on coming. Yvonne drove her cunt upward and downward, and as she had when she was on her back and I was slamming my cock deeply into her, now she was clearly in charge again.

"You like me on top, don't you, Steve?" she asked, her breath coming heavy now, her body covered in a thicker layer of perspiration. When I nodded my head in agreement, Yvonne raised her hands, cupped both of her massive tits in her hands and said, "And I know you like these too, c'est vrai?" I could only nod my head again in agreement. Yvonne increased the speed she raised and lowered her body now, her ass making loud slapping sounds each time it made contact with my upper thighs. And with each contact, the touch of her silk stockings drove sexual sensations through my legs, across my lower stomach, and into my cock. I raised my hands and joined fingers with Yvonne's around her tits, my fingers seeking and finding the erect nipples. I thumbed each nipple while Yvonne released the grip on her tits. She lowered her left hand to my nipple and stimulated my tit buds with one hand while I performed the same act on her nipples. But it was what she did with her right hand that pushed me closer to coming while Yvonne rode my cock.

Yvonne extended her right arm behind her back and I felt her take my ball sack firmly in her hand. She began to squeeze the fleshy, hairy bag while increasing the speed of riding my cock. "Oh, god, Yvonne, you're going to make me come!" I cried out, knowing that I was close to coming again in Yvonne's cunt. "Yes, baby, yes," I moaned over and over as I arched my back to drive every last millimeter of hard, hungry cock between Yvonne's cunt lips. Yvonne maintained her hand hold on my ball sack, arched her back, and began to moan. I knew she too was on the verge of coming and decided to let mine come forth. When the orgasm began, I raised my hands, wound my fingers into Yvonne's long, black hair, and pulled her face close to mine. "I'm coming Yvonne," I moaned, our eyes locked and focused. "Come with me, baby, come with me." And then, I exploded for the second time, another continuous stream of pearl-covered crème flowing from my cock and spewing like lava into Yvonne's bouncing pussy.

Yvonne began to come as well. "Oh, ma petit, ma petit," she moaned, just before leaning forward and locking her lips onto mine. We kissed deeply while orgasms washed over our bodies, as wave after wave of sexual seizures shook every fiber in us. I drove my cock upward and inward, intent to cram so much cock into Yvonne's cunt that my cock hairs would find their way between her pussy lips. Yvonne also drove her cunt downward, as intent on fulfilling her own sexual needs as I was. For several moments, we continued to push and drive, continued to weld my cock and her cunt together in a sexual union. When we were no longer able to continue and too exhausted to move, Yvonne rolled to her right and lay against me. She laid her head in the crook of my left arm and we lay silent on the bed, the only sound of heavy breathing, or the beating of two strained heartbeats.

An hour passed before I could move. When I did, I rolled to my left, took Yvonne's face in my hands, and kissed her lovingly, romantically, as a man will do when he is in love with a woman. Yvonne returned the kiss, and I felt she too was falling for me as I was for her. I realized I didn't care that she was married, that she belonged to someone else. I knew we would work that out, somehow. All I wanted at that very moment was to make love to her. And for the next three hours, that is exactly what we did. The hands of the clock moved toward dawn and when Yvonne and I awoke, we made love again and again, spending the entire morning in bed. Sometime before lunch, I arranged for a clothier to deliver new clothes for Yvonne, and that evening, we had a romantic dinner by the River Seine, in the shadow of the Notre Dame. We returned to the Hotel du Palais and again spent the night wrapped in each other's arms.

When the following day dawned, I had no choice but to return to the United States. Yvonne accompanied me to Orly Airport and waited for my flight to depart. While I waited for my flight, I remembered the old man and woman from the elevator our first night together. I turned to Yvonne and asked, "What was it he said to me?" Yvonne thought for a moment before responding, "He said you were a lucky man!" Together, our laughter filled the space where we stood, our laughter drawing the attention of several other travelers. Finally, after too short a while, my flight was announced. I so desperately wanted to stay, wanted to remain in France, wanted to spend more time with Yvonne. But practicality and the real world called, and I knew I had to return to my home. I embraced Yvonne, pulling her close as our lips again danced what I suddenly realized was love, not simple attraction, but pure, true love for a woman I had known less than forty-eight hours. Finally, the boarding announcement was made for my flight and I turned to go. "Wait, Steve," Yvonne said. She extended her right arm to present a small, blue box in her palm. "This is for you. Take it, but promise me you won't open it until you re airborne." Her coal black eyes bore into me and I asked myself how I could ever deny her anything, particularly a simple request such as this. "Can you do that for me, s'il vous plait" I nodded my head in agreement and kissed her again, deeply, sensuously.

And then, there was no choice but to board the plane, to take my seat and bring thousands of miles between myself and Yvonne. The walk down the jetway and onto the aircraft seemed like miles. I slipped into my first class seat, ordered a scotch from the attendant, and settled back into cushioned comfort. The aircraft filled with passengers and for one, hopeful but silly moment, I hoped to see Yvonne rushing onto the plane and telling she could not live without me. But as the attendants closed the door for our ascent, I knew she was not coming. I knew I would fly back to America alone.

Just after takeoff, I decided to examine the gift Yvonne had given me. I opened the small box to find a single slip of paper covered with the soft handwriting of a woman. My heart leapt as the few words on the paper traveled from my eyes and to my brain before settling permanently into my heart.

"Au revoir, Mon Cheri. J'e taime, j'e taime."