The car idles under tall trees’ shadows. Four in the morning. Aquitaine highway near Saintes. Chills from the fan, radio low. Lou asleep on the reclined passenger seat, half-covered by my jacket. Adorable. Her brown curls cascade over her oval face. Pink lips parted. Small tits rising with each breath. Mine since June. Can’t believe…
In my childhood bedroom, posters peeling from the walls, I skipped school that morning. Heart hammering like a drum in my chest. The facteur was due any minute. I’d sent my journal, all my dirty secrets, the washed panty. No turning back now. Sweat beaded on my forehead. What if she hated it? The fantasies,…
The poolside lounger creaked under me that humid evening. Four-year-old Henri sulked inside, but I didn’t care. Sun dipping low, storm brewing, I stared at the water’s blue shimmer, missing my girl back in Catalonia. Heart thumping slow, lazy. Then the gate hummed. Her Porsche growled up the gravel, drowning the mower’s buzz. Candice stepped…
The car stopped on that dusty country lane. Heart pounding like a drum in my chest. Virginie, the stunning blonde instructor, smiled at me. 19 years old, virgin, and rock hard since we left the driving school. Her mini white skirt rode up her thighs, showing the edge of her stockings. No bra under that…
Sunday morning. My kitchen. Laure still sleeps. I’m in boxers, mind wandering as I tidy up. Heart races thinking of her leaving soon. Three months apart. But I bought a ring yesterday. Marriage idea hits hard. Nervous sweat. What if she says no? Coffee brews. I laugh alone, imagining her shock. She sneaks up. My…
It was my childhood bedroom. Posters on the walls, familiar creak of the floor. I stood at the foot of the bed, arms limp, heart hammering. White camisole hugging my bare chest, white boxer shorts low on my hips. No bra, no panties. Vulnerable. He wore a tee and boxers. Eyes locked. No turning back….
In Tante Gertrude’s salon, heart hammering like a drum. Geneviève arrives with Bertrand, that sharp-dressed tailor, almost bald. They want my measurements. For Dior. To make me a queen. Gertrude nods, eyes twinkling. ‘Undress, child,’ Geneviève says, voice like velvet. Here? Fully? My cheeks burn. But no backing out. This is the path to the…
The Slow Club throbbed with muffled blues. Just us, Anaïs’s wild crowd. Juices, gin tonics, scotch flowing. Friendly chats turned flirty fast. Kisses stolen, hands wandering. I stuck to Thomas. Danced close when the beat hit. Then Anaïs snatched him mid-song. He shrugged, left me with Théo. Théo grinned. ‘Happy here, cute Delphine? Madly in…
Suzy’s bathroom door hung open. I froze. Heart slamming my ribs. She stood there, naked under a sheer tunic. Hair tied back, pearl necklace dangling long. Fifty-something widow, curves barely hidden. My cock twitched hard. No going back now. She’d called about no water. I checked pipes, basement valve shut tight. Her doing. Why lie?…
The cool night air hit us as we stepped out for pizzas. Valérie’s laugh cut through my haze. I’d been staring at Hervé’s girl, that stunning ebony princess with the killer smile. Her skin glowed. Fine hands. Perfect tits. Ass I’d kill to grab. But fuck, why him? My dick throbbed. Then Valérie dragged me…