Fiction
Apr. 5, 2020


Mathilde was a 37-year teacher from Quebec. We’d known each other for a few years, worked at the same place, shared a cup of coffee now and again after we both left our employment and kept in touch sporadically. I eventually learned via mutual acquaintances that she’d had enough of living out West and had bowed to family pressure to return home to Quebec and marry this nice doctor her family had recruited for her. I happened to be in town on business those last two days of her stay in the city.

My phone call got me invited to her apartment where I was recruited - shanghaied, I guess by the level of her distress that often brought her close to tears that day - to help her pack up and store her things and undertake minor repairs to the suite so that she could get back her damage deposit. By 11 PM, we were both exhausted. I offered her the expected cultural peck on the cheek. She responded by hugging me hard and releasing a loud sob into my shoulder.

As I was about to leave, I realized that she had no bed, all her clothes were packed and that all utilities would be shut off within the hour.

“Mathilde, I have a nice hotel suite with two double beds, bathroom, nice toiletries. And,” I offered, “not only is breakfast free in the morning, but I could drop you at the airport on my way out of town.”

She smiled and declined, saying, “Paul, I’ve always thought of you as a colleague and friend. I don’t have those kind of feelings for you.”

“I’m not asking to have sex with you, Mathilde. I’m just offering a night with a lot more comfort and convenience than this,” I responded, gesturing to indicate the sparsity of what the apartment might offer. I couldn’t convince her, so I hugged her again and left.

About 30 minutes later, my cell rang. It was her.

“Can you come and get me,” she sobbed. “It’s dark in here and getting cold.”

It was almost 1AM by the time we got back to my suite. I got into bed while Mathilde had a quick shower and used my toothbrush. She made me turn my head as she left the bathroom and got into bed. “Bonne nuit!” I offered in French, the language we had always used to communicate.

I soon fell asleep but was awoken some time later by Mathilde crawling into bed beside me. “Désolé!” she apologized. “Paul... will you... please... will you, ah, hold me, please. I’m sorry.” It took me a moment to wake up and realize what was happening. I reached up and turned on the small reading light built into the headboard.

I turned then on to my right side and reached my arm over her on top of the covers. I pulled her toward me. She complied, snuggled up to me, both of us sort of spooning. I could feel her firm breasts pressing into the arm I had wrapped around her. Then to my surprise, she took my hand and moved my arm under the blankets. Bare skin. My hand rested on her breast. Yes, indeed! Bare skin; a naked breast and a hard nipple. Did I somehow manage to slip inside her PJ's? The nipple grew hard, as did my cock.

She lay very still for a long moment, then signed deeply and loudly. She rolled over onto her other side, facing me, and pulled my arm over her. She found the hand that was between us and pulled it to her chest. I realized that she was asking me to cup and fondle her naked breast. She snuggled against me. My outside hand wandered to her ass. I hadn't slipped into any PJ's. She was naked. I removed the hand clasped between us from hers and, struggled to manoeuvre in the tight space between us and let it in wander down her stomach to where I noticed fine pubic hair and damp vaginal lips. She pushed her hips into my my crotch, our hips, knees and chests touching. I pulled her as close as I could and cupped her mound of venus,. My excitable cock responded and she could not have escaped notice. I ran my hands up and down her naked body, front and back, as far as I could reach without breaking the erotic contact with her body. Her skin was soft and she smelled of perfumed soap and shampoo. I just held her like for awhile; I knew I had to control myself.

Mathilde was about 5’ 5”, perhaps 130-140 lbs with short straw-coloured hair and beautiful grey eyes. And then there were those great tits. More than a handful, I now knew. As I caressed her tits and nipples, I pressed my lips into her neck and chest. I let my hand wander from her boobs, down her rib cage to her hip. Then, over to her belly, and back again to her ass. As my hand slid down the curve of her buttock, I let my fingers wander through the fuzz on her pussy. I ran my hand over stomach, then her hip and moved my fingers down her butt crack toward her anus. She pulled away. Had I gone too far? I retreated back to her tits, kissing her shoulders, the sides of her neck and her cheeks. I gently took her shoulder then and gently pushed her completely onto her back. She complied and turned her face toward me. I kissed her on the mouth, gently at first, then more forcefully, and reached over to caress both tits at the same time. We embraced this way for some time, my cock getting harder, pressing against her lower belly, and my hands roaming over her chest while my tongue explored her mouth.

And then, everything changed. Suddenly, her hand was fumbling inside by pyjama bottom, squeezing my ass cheeks and, sliding her hand as best she could between us, latching onto my erection. The other hand was behind my head, pulling my mouth and tongue toward hers, her tongue darting in and out of my mouth.

“Attends, Mathilde!” I muttered, asking her to slow down. “Non!” she responded and pushed me rather forcefully onto my back. She threw off the covers and hopped over me and sat on my legs. As she unbuttoned my pyjama top and undid the draw string and three buttons on the bottoms, she added huskily and seemingly out of breath, "Baise-moi!" She was ordering me to fuck her. I looked up, and from the light of the little reading light, I contemplated her great tits. A D-cup for certain, perfectly round, reddish brown areola, slightly darker but stiff nipples with just a small indentation on the tip of each one. Her belly offered smooth, faultless skin but a bit of an outie. And just below that, a line of pubic hair.

“I want to... ah... have you!” She emphasized the “want”. “Make love to me!” She freed my cock from the confines of its cotton garment and began stroking it, pulling the foreskin back and rolling it back up. “Fuck me!” she commanded again. I was momentarily stunned. As if to motivate me, I guess, and, before I could respond, my cock disappeared into her mouth.

I let the sensations of her wet mouth on my cock roll over me. She would pull back the foreskin with her hand as my cock engulfed her mouth, her tongue swirling around my cock-head. Finally, I got her turned back to me. I pulled her on to me and, after a long wet kiss, I convinced her to 69 me. As she positioned her pussy over my face, I noticed the pubic hair covering her entire crotch. This was a hairy pussy indeed. She presented something of a closed purse, all the lips tucked closely together, almost pouting, and protecting access to her vagina. As she took me into her mouth, I reached up and opened those lips carefully. Inside were the inner lips, a little rigid now, a smallish clit, red, wet sex-flesh and those wonderful dark grey pubes. Yum! I tucked a pillow further under my head and pulled her hips towards my face. I lead with my tongue. I quickly found her clit and flicked up and down her pussy. I sucked one lip into my mouth and then repeated with the other and finally with her now-engorged clit. Then I ran my tongue from her clit to her anus. Back and forth! Up and down! She was sweet and even a bit soapy from her shower. She moaned and sucked harder.

Patting her hip, I helped her off me and manoeuvred her with a minimum of words, some English, some French, till she was lying beside me. I kissed her some more, making sure that one finger diddled her clit. I got to my knees, then inserted one knee between her thighs, using my hands on her knees to spread her open. God, she was gorgeous, sexy, innocent, lustful. I had to work hard to control myself. Finally, I was between her spread legs, her pussy just visible under her bush. I took me cock in my hand and moved toward her cunt.

“Certaine?” I asked, wanting to make certain she was OK with my fucking her. God! What would I do if she refused?

“Oui,” she blushed, acknowledging that she wanted to be fucked.

I reached for her ass, but she lifted her hips, offering herself to me. I took a minute to run my cock up and down her pussy, swirling it around her clit or dipping its head just inside her now open pussy lips. Then without further adieu (a wonder French expression) I slowly inserted my hard cock into her. She pushed up and squeezed, her vagina tightening on my cock and pushing the foreskin back. I pushed harder until I realized that I was in to the hilt, my hips against her ass, the head of my cock just bumping against her cervix. She planted her feet into the bed, raised her hips and supported them with her arms, elbows also on the bed, hands on her buttocks and spread her legs far apart. I moved in and out, on a regular rhythm, every once in a while my cock actually coming out of her before plunging back in.

And so, we fucked like that for several minutes. Then I dropped her on her back and helped her turn onto her side. I re-entered her from behind, my hands reaching around to grab her tits and my lips and mouth all over her neck and shoulders. A few more minutes like this and I pulled out and lay back on the bed. I noticed that my cock was slimy with girl cum.

“Whew! Ton tour!” and I said to indicate it was her turn to take command, and pointed to my erection standing hard, only slightly bent toward my belly. I took her hands and helped Mathilde climb aboard. I reached down and made sure my cock would align with her cunt. “OK, Cowgirl!” She blushed again and began bobbing up and down on my cock. I let go of her hand and fascinated by the way her wonderful tits bobbed up and down to the rhythm of her hips, I reached up and fondled her full breasts.

Mathilde was flushed, her cheeks red, a slight film of sweat on her forehead and torso. As we continued to fuck, she slowly closed her eyes concentrating on our love-making. Suddenly, pushed down hard, leaned back slightly and focused on her orgasm, moaning unabashedly.

That was too much for me. I had been holding back as best I could for several minutes. I gushed into her, groaning loudly myself. I think she realized then what had happened.

“Oh, Paul, non!” she cried. Yes, I explained, I had cum inside of her but I was not about to get her pregnant - a successful vasectomy several years before. She got off me and sat on the bed. She reached down and touched her dripping pussy. Boy and girl cum were all over her genitals, seeping into her pussy hair and running down the crack of her ass. I laid her back on the bed and kissed her deeply. She rolled toward me and lay her head on my shoulder, throwing one arm over my chest and one leg over my thighs. We were asleep in minutes.

The next morning, we were both rather quiet, but as we said goodbye at the airport, Mathilde nervously tried to convince me that her behaviour was unusual.

“Regrets?” I asked.

“Non!” she replied in French. “I will keep this as a precious memory. Bye, bye, Paul!” She gave me the two-sided peck on the cheeks, entered security and was gone. I never saw her again.


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