My First Erotic Reading: Surrendering to Madame de Sertange’s Touch
In my cramped bedroom at Madame de Sertange’s house in Valence, heart hammering like a drum. Fresh from Rouen, craving sun and company, I rented this room from Anne, the stunning widow. Dark hair streaked gray, midnight blue eyes, full lips, heavy tits under bourgeois silk. I didn’t know she’d till virgin soil in me.
Nights blurred into obsession. She owned me. No more outings. Just waiting, cock twitching for her visits. Daily milking—her hands, feet, tits, mouth on my shaft. Diabolical skill. But Fridays? Culture night. Her late husband’s hellish library. My first: nerves electric, palms sweaty. Sat propped on pillows, sheets hiding my boxer bulge.
The Approach
She hands me the book, golden phallus bookmark gleaming. ‘Read slow, loud, from the mark.’ Slides sheets off. Exposed. ‘Don’t stop, boy. Read, and I’ll reward.’ Heart races. Fear mixes with fire. No turning back.
I crack it open. Crude words tumble out. Lucette’s rose opens for Maurice’s prick. He slams in, finger in her tight ass. My voice shakes. Her hand slips under boxers, fingers graze balls. Gentle rolls. Cock hardens instant. Pulse thuds in ears.
‘Keep reading.’ Balls tighten. She peels boxers down, head on thighs, breath hot on sack. Fingers milk pre-cum from tip. I stumble words—Sir Archibald bursts in, licks Maurice’s hole. Her tongue laps my balls, spit-wet finger circles my pucker. Slow, teasing rings. Thumb smears my slime.
Sweat beads. Voice cracks. She sucks balls one by one, finger plunges in. Suction noises drive me mad. Shaved clean as she ordered—every lick electric. I read on, ass clenching her digit. They fuck in threesome frenzy, cum everywhere.
She devours cock now, finger fucking ass, thumb on nuts. Tongue spears piss-slit. I groan, words slur. She stops. ‘Read!’ Edge of madness. Double blowjobs, asses leaking seed. Tension coils. Balls ache. Then explosion—jets flood her throat. She swallows every drop, nipples poke silk, pussy dripping unseen.
The Instant
Kiss tastes my cum. She leaves. Emptied, buzzing. Innocence cracked.
Next night, her vast bed. She’s prone, nightie hinting bare curves. ‘Kneel. Shirt off, boxers stay. Worship ass while I read Wilde.’ Flip gown up slow—knees, thighs, glorious cheeks. Pink, hairless pucker winks. Spread wide. She sighs, starts: white room, bear rug altar.
Massage cheeks, thumbs pry pussy. Oreiller under hips—perfect view. Bushy lips swell, inner pink gleams wet. Stroke clit, thumb-fuck cunt. Fingers invade ass—one, two, three. She bucks, voice husky. Licks pubes, sucks cock in text. I rim her, tongue deep in peppery hole.
She grinds back. I snap—rip boxers, slam cock in sopping pussy. Muscles milk me. Slow thrusts, savor lips hugging shaft. Pull out, tongue ass again, then bury in rectum. Balls slap. She screams filth, cums hard. I unload deep in bowels.
Collapsed. Changed. Year of her grip broke me open—regrets linger, but horizons vast. That first reading? Pure, nervous fire. Never the same.
