The beach dunes stretched under summer stars. My heart hammered like a trapped bird. I’d lied to him: Nemesis, not Ludivine. Josh, the biker, gunned the Harley again. Naked. Both of us. Skin prickling in the night wind. This was it—no turning back. I’d spotted him at the jazz bar. Tall, built, sipping Jones Smith…
The buzz in my bag yanks me from Matisse’s ‘The Dream.’ Heart slams. SMS: ‘Meet me at the garden’s end, right behind the yews.’ Electric jolt straight to my core. Paris to Nice. His texts started before I left. Packing list: flowy dresses, sheer lace panties, toys he’d shipped. TGV toilet: off with bra and…
The car crunches to a stop outside the gate. Bois-Joli. FFN. Nudist. My stomach flips. Lise grips my hand, palms sweaty. Two weeks ago, friends bailed, last spot available. No clue it was bare-assed paradise. Heart hammers. Cars pass, clothed drivers heading into naked world. ‘We in?’ I whisper. She nods, eyes wide. Cheque cashed….
It was five years ago, in that dimly lit hammam in Bangkok. Steam everywhere, shadows hiding thirty bodies. My husband Eric, our friends, and two hostesses. I’d never done much sexually. No real blowjobs. No anal. Just Eric, my only man. Heart racing already. We’d had massages. Soft at first. Mine was heaven, hands melting…
Our bedroom door creaked open that humid summer night. We’d kept our buddy over after too many beers. My sweet wife had crashed early, sprawled on the bed in her flimsy nightie. No panties. Ass cheeks bare, one leg bent up, exposing her smooth, shaved pussy lips just like that. My cock twitched hard. Heart…
The kitchen smelled of crepes and salt spray from the raging ocean. Rain lashed the windows. My hands shook clutching Georges’ letter. Heart slamming my ribs like waves on rocks. Jeanne at the stove, apron tight around her slim waist, flour dusting her cheek. Her Icelandic sweater hugged those small, firm tits I’d spied through…
I lay flat in the center of that sterile sim room, beeping machines crowding like ghosts. IV needle stabbed my wrist, cold drip seeping in slow. Heart thumped wild, ribs vibrating. Hanane leaned close, her hijab framing those almond eyes, dark and deep. Fingers grazed my scalp—cool, steady—sticking electrodes one by one. Each touch sparked…
There she was, sipping white wine at the bar counter, just like I hoped. Stunning brunette with ebony hair, bangs hiding those dark, sparkling eyes. She spots me. My heart hammers. I flash a shy smile. She gets it. Grabs her glass, slides over. Polite smile on her full lips. I bow awkwardly, salute her….
Autoroute du Soleil, Lunel rest area. The Daf truck cab sat still. Silence crashed in after he killed the radio. He stretched, his bulk surprisingly nimble, then crouched by the bunk. His breath hitched. Seconds dragged. I dreaded anger in his blue-gray eyes. Instead, wonder and fear flickered there—like a kid’s, bold yet scared of…
That chilly February Saturday, heart already thumping, we stepped into Massages du Monde. Urban stress had crushed our spark, baby-making turning sex mechanical. Véronique, my petite teacher with those perfect small tits, looked tense. Me, the fit IT guy, needed escape too. Separate rooms: her with hunk Andres, me with freckled Irish Fanny. Nervous buzz…