Leslie was frightened as the attractive Frenchman strode away from the door, ginning at her. He stood over the table and poured another glass of wine for her. It was only her second, and she would not overdo it as she had done this afternoon.
"I, uh, I'm not very experienced," Leslie said.
"It's nothing. You are quite attractive, and, as your friends say, I would never harm you."
He reached down, gripped her arms, and pulling her upward from the chair, he brought his mouth to hers, intruding his tongue at the very moment their lips touched. His hands slipped from her shoulders to her behind, and he raised her skirt, exposing the bareness of her cheeks underneath. His fingers felt so delicious as they kneaded the cheeks of her ass.
With a boldness of her own that Leslie had never dreamed of just a few days ago, she lowered his zipper and gripped his cock.
What was she doing, and why was she doing it, she wondered. Yet without thinking, she was moving her hand up and down over his cock the way Judy had taught her. She was excited because she was doing things she had never done before, and she was doing it on her own, with no encouragement from her friends, but only the encouragement of Armand's passionate, tongue-twirling kiss.
She wondered if she would ever be able to go back to Brandon. Would she ever even want him again, and would he want her? He had his big tit, young secretary, so why did he need a wife? More importantly, why did Leslie need him when she could have men like Armand?
His mouth slid from hers and over her shoulder. His tongue and teeth tugged at her halter and cleared it away from one of her breasts. He kissed it, without touching the nipple, but he came ever so close.
"Ohhh!"
She wanted the feel of sucking lips, of licking tongue, as she felt the pleasure of his cock in her hand. Never in a million years would she do anything like this with her husband. Brandon was a man who couldn't make love to her except in the most elementary way, a man whose only idea of variety was to make love on the living room sofa.
Armand's hands slipped from her ass. He untied her halter and peeled it over her shoulder while he brought his lips ever closer to her nipple. He licked around her nipple without touching it, and shivers rippled through her body. Finally, he drew it into his mouth. He sucked and savored while he gripped her wrists and backed her across the room. As soon as she was against the wall, she grabbed his cock and pulled it down, and nestled it through the folds of her pussy.
"Fuck me, you bastard, fuck me!"
"Of course," he said, and still holding onto her wrists, he brought his lips over her breasts and placed his cock against the opening of her pussy. It slid easily through the wetness and all the way inside her.
"Yes, oh, yeah," she said, and she could hardly breath now.
He held her wrists, as he slammed his cock into her again and again, banging her against the wall."
"Fuck me, fuck me," she said.
He was slamming harder and harder and the sensations were rolling and grumbling through her.
"Yesssss." She was going to come this time, and she was going to come quick. Yes, she would, and she was. She would come, yes. She would come, yes. Quickly, she would come.
"Yes. Oh, yes. Ohhhhh," she moaned.
Leslie went stiff, and surges of post pleasure surged through her. Then they were ripples of pleasure. She sighed and went limp. For a long moment, Armand held her pinned against the wall.
"This is so lovely," he said, "but it is time to get you from these clothes."
"Yes," she said, her brain numbed from the pleasure.
She didn't care what happened, but he backed away from her, letting her lean against the wall, and he smiled as he peeled her clothes away, one piece at a time. When she was totally naked, except for her shoes and stockings, he carried her to one of the tables and lifted her so she was sitting with her legs dangling downward and her thighs spread.
She watched as he unbuttoned his shirt and revealed his broad chest and shoulders and his strong arms. Her eyes widened as he undid his belt and his button. His fly was already unzipped, so he let his pants fall to the floor, revealing that he wore no underwear. He seemed to be getting ready to use his cock again, and her mouth began to water.
If her mother could see her now, she would go insane, she thought, but it made no difference. Her mother had held her back too long. It was time for her to break free of the constraints she had felt for so many years.
Armand smiled and moved between her legs, but she was so high on the table, that even standing upright, his face was almost at a level with her breasts. He reached out and raised her left breast with just two fingers of his right hand. He darted his tongue against the nipple, and it instantly hardened.
"Nice," she whispered.
"Bon," he said. He gripped her tit with his whole hand and gummed over it, his tongue and lips rolling around the nipple.
"It is so true what they say about Frenchman," she said.
"Oui, yes, so true," he said, and nipped at the flesh of her breast with lips and tongue and an occasional scrape of his teeth.
Even with no pressure on her pussy, the delicious early sensations of pleasure were coming over her. There were little shudders and tickles, but she was feeling a greater anticipation. It was as if what they were about to do would be more exciting than anything that happened to her in the last twenty-four hours.
"You are such a delicious woman," he said.
He put his hand behind her head and brought her face to his. He kissed her, not passionately this time, but gently; and with his gentleness, he brought on an even deeper excitement.
"You're so dear," he said, and he dragged his tongue over her cheek, her neck, and down between her breasts. He kissed one of them, then the other.
Leslie looked heavenward, grateful that Brandon had not come along on this trip. If he had, none of this would be happening and she would still be stuck in her backward world where sex was something she feared and a mere service for a husband who never appreciated her.
Armand's tongue rolled through the "v" over her pubis, over the outer lips, then the inner, then between the folds.
"Do it, please do it," she said.
His tongue rolled over her clit, his lips nibbled.
She was taking quick little breaths, but she was emboldened and she wanted more. "Fuck me. Fuck me!"
He kept eating her, licking, sucking and teasing her.
"I said, 'fuck me!"
"Yes, mon cherie. Yes, of course," he said.
He smiled and climbed onto the table with her.
He pushed her back against the surface and knelt between her legs, looking down at her.
"Yes, I will fuck you, and I will fuck you good," he said. He took his cock in his hand, angled it toward her spread pussy, and brought the whole length of his body over her, with his hands resting on the bar.
Leslie reached down for him and placed his cock against the opening of her pussy.
Even in his "ram, bam, thank you ma'am" way, Brandon had made love to her, but he had never fucked her. No one had ever fucked her, not even Rick this afternoon, and she wanted to be fucked.
"Fuck me!" she cried.
"Yes," he whispered, and he pushed into her, driving his cock as deeply as it would go, sliding her across the stainless steel counter. He withdrew part of the way and slammed at her again, then again, and again. He was going at her as if he were a pile driver, drawing back and slamming harder and harder and all the time sliding her farther up the length of the counter.
His cock was plunging into her, seeming to draw her insides out. His balls were slapping at her. He had the wide-eyed look of an insane man, but Leslie was insane too. Why else would she be doing this with a stranger.
"Fuck me harder," she said.
And he slammed into her.
"Harder."
And again he slammed.
"Fuck me, you bastard, fuck me," she cried.
In drawing his cock out of her and slamming into her, he was hurting her, but it was a good hurt. A pain that was so intense it was almost a pleasure. In and out he went, and he was breathing harder and harder.
She wanted him to fuck her even deeper and harder. She wanted him to fuck her longer and faster. She wanted him to fuck her until she could no longer think, until her pussy was raw and worn, yet still begging for more.
"Fuck me," she said again,
He seemed to be in panic as he looked at her. "What is it you want me to do?" he pleaded.
"Fuck my brains out," she said.
"Yes, fuck out your brains."
She was bouncing her ass off the stainless steel surface, and she wrapped her legs around him making certain his cock did not escape from her pussy.
"Fuck out your brains. Yes," he said, and kept going at her.
"Oh," she said, and she was coming again. She was losing some level of consciousness, and her head was spinning and numbing. Yes, he was fucking her brains out. Yes, that was what he was doing. That was this feeling.
"Yes," she said, through the numbness. "Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh, God, yesssss."
He kept pumping hard at her, in a way Brandon would never do. He was pulling out of her and slamming into her.
"Yesssss," she said again, and her body was going into little spasms, little rushes of pleasure.
"Tres bien. Oh, oui. Tres bien," he said, as he thrust into her one last time.
Then he went limp, and she felt the gush of his warm come inside her. He tried to stroke some more, and it was easy to do through the wetness. Then he lay on top of her for a long moment. When he finally pulled away from her, she felt his come slide from her pussy and down to her ass to the surface of the counter.
"Yes, tres bien," she said, using one of the few phrases she knew.
"You are magnifique," he said.
"And you ain't bad either." She sighed. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she faded off into total relaxation.
"Now, we must fix it," he said.
He climbed down from the bar, then he put his arms under her and carried her to one of the empty tables. He sat her upright on top of it, and he spread her legs. When he began to lick away his own come, she began to shiver all over and wanted still more of him.