The couch in our living room. Heart hammering like a jackhammer. I’d sent Marine to the bedroom. Door clicked shut. Just me and Claudia now. Air thick, electric. My revenge twisted into this—wanting her inside me. Months of watching her fuck my wife. Sucking her cock. Now, craving it raw. Knees on cushions, ass up….
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…
In my childhood bedroom. Faded posters on the walls. Single bed creaking under us. Posters of bands I outgrew. Air heavy, stale with old memories. He’s naked against me. Young, smooth skin. Heart slamming my ribs. Thud. Thud. Thud. Will he wake and bolt? Slip out the window like a thief? Or stay till morning…
The portal swung open as I turned onto his dark lane. My BMW stalled. I cursed, restarted, heart slamming. François stood on the porch, waiting. Two hours of drive crushed into one-fifteen. Stomach twisting. Face twitching in the rearview. Lipstick perfect. No panties—slipped them off in office bathroom. Midinette again. Pathetic. I threw myself at…
It was late in my bedroom. Heart hammering. Too quiet to make noise, too wired to sleep. Elise had called earlier. Her voice lingered. I lay there, sheets twisted, mind racing. Picturing her small body against mine. Those hugs where I’d wrap my big, clumsy hands around her. One on her hair, stroking awkward. The…
It started with a crash on that empty supermarket lot. His old 504 backed into my R5’s bumper. Karim stepped out, pissed but hot in that brooding way. Thirty-ish, dark eyes. I barely noticed, thinking of Jean-Paul, my boyfriend. But damage meant insurance. We set a meet at my place, Place de l’Armoise, number 8….