What Grown-ups Do (Fm Ff ) : by (c) Hamilton Joyce

Belle Renoir sat on her balcony in the late afternoon sun. It was Sunday and 
the sound of the traffic from the Boulevard was not intolerable. She had 
chosen the apartment twenty years before because the block was reasonably 
tranquil in its leafy square, set back from the main thoroughfare. It was, 
perhaps, indiscreet to sit there in her underwear, but it was hot, and the wall 
of the balcony with its ferns and creepers hid her from the waist down.

Young Gaston crossed the Square. He was carrying his mother's shopping 
basket, and Belle guessed he had been sent out to get bread, or something 
needed for the family meal that evening. His family had lived in the flats 
almost as long as Belle and she had watched him grow up from a noisy little 
boy into a young man. He must be sixteen now, she thought. He had a good 
strong body, nice broad shoulders and a hard little bum under those tight 
summer shorts. Good strong legs, too, she thought. Nice golden legs, with 
their light fuzz of golden hair. God! It was hot! She stretched her legs, and 
without thinking her hand slipped down the front of her panties and, as it 
were, tested the temperature down there. Gaston had aroused her. Her finger 
slid easily into her moistened slit and then up into her cunt. She gave her clit 
a squeeze between finger and thumb and wondered what he would be like. 
She didn't often go for very young men, but she knew sixteen year olds were 
incredibly virile. Her mind went back to that first summer in Provence. Same 
blonde hair and broad shoulders. What was his name?  No, gone now, but 
she certainly still remembered how he used to do her three, four times in a 
row in the cool green of the vineyard. It was pleasant masturbating here in 
the sun, but she better not come. She had a habit of being a bit noisy, and this 
was rather public! 

Gaston hated carrying his mother's basket, but there was not much choice. 
He'd been sent out to get potatoes. And there was Miss Renoir on her 
balcony, laughing at him doing errands like a little boy. He pretended not to 
see her, especially as she was only wearing her brassiere. Out of the corner of 
his eye he could see her. Nice breasts, he thought, bigger than Lisette's, but 
they looked nice and firm and filled the black satin cups. He wondered if she 
was in matching black panties. He felt his cock go hard, and carried the 
basket in front of him to hide his erection.

Belle realized she would have to go indoors and bring herself off. Her clit 
and cunt were demanding orgasm. Too early to call Marcel her current lover, 
who would still be out with his wife and children Sunday afternoon. She 
decided to call Mireille. She was good with her tongue, and they could at 
least use the strap-on for each other. She stood there, phone in her hand, cunt 
enflamed, as it rang un-answered. No-one else obvious, so it would have to 
be Belle's five little friends. She was about to lay down on the bed to 
masturbate when she suddenly thought, 'Why not?' 

A scheme came into her mind as she looked at the light curtain between her 
bedroom and the en-suite bathroom. She got out the steps and quickly 
unhooked it from its rail. Then the steps away, and a stool  from the kitchen. 
She slipped on fresh black panties, the sort they call French knickers, full and 
loose round the thighs, but with slits cut up the hips almost to the waistband. 
She dabbed some perfume not onto her cunt, but on the bit between her cunt 
and her arsehole. She had bought a waxing the week before, and it was nice 
and smooth there today.  Then her short, black silk negligee and some 
delicate high-heeled slippers, black to match the rest. The teenager would 
probably enjoy her in garter-belt and black stockings. But it was just too hot. 
He would have to await Autumn for that pleasure. She looked at herself in 
the long mirror. Good body, she thought. No flab and clear skin. She 
caressed her hips and bottom, sleek in black satin. Yes, not bad for fortyfour 
(though her publicity admitted to only thirty five). And a lot of French males 
prefer the older, more experienced, more versatile, and more discrete 
woman! Just what the young lad needed to start him on life's sexual journey!

She returned to the balcony.

She was just in time. Gaston was returning, his basket full of vegetables. He 
could not avoid acknowledging her with a wave as he faced her, crossing the 
Square. In any case, she was more decently dressed now, he thought, with her 
shoulders covered, and would not be embarrassed at being seen. She waved 
back and stood up. 'Gaston, I wonder if you could give me a hand, just for a 
couple of minutes.' 

He left his basket in the lobby, took the lift up two floors, and rang her bell. 
She must have been waiting by the door, he thought, as it opened 
immediately. She was a bit gushing, and overpowering. Close to her for the 
first time since Christmas when his father had invited her for festive drinks, 
he was surprised to find she was now a bit shorter than himself. Her hair was 
silky, black, and glossy as he looked at her. She was respectably dressed 
now, in that her clothing covered her except for her legs, but incredibly sexy 
how it clung to her body. The long dry spell had charged the air with static 
electricity, and the negligee really clung to her, hiding nothing of her shape. 
He could see the shape of her bra under the satin, and despite the bra, her 
nipples stood out clearly. He felt his cock getting half-hard. 'How nice of 
you, Gaston. It's this curtain. I was afraid of falling off. Can you hold me 
while I put it up?'

Without waiting for an answer she had the curtain in her hands and leading 
him across the room to her bedroom. Now she was standing on the stool. 
'Hold my legs. Yes, like that.'

His hands were on her hips, and he could feel her firm flesh under two 
slippery layers of thin silk. The edge of her panties was a raised ridge under 
his palms.  Her legs were pressed against his chest, and one toe of her high 
heels was uncomfortably sticking into him, right into his balls. As she 
stretched upwards the hem of her negligee rode up, revealing her tanned 
thighs. 'Nearly done now. Just these last hooks at the end. Oops!'

She appeared to slip, one of her silly, but sexy shoes skidding off the stool. 
He fell to his knees and found himself holding her hips very tight. His hands 
had slipped under the satin and he was holding naked flesh. Her negligee had 
fallen open, and his face was crushed against the satin and lace panties 
covering her belly. She adjusted herself. 'Close one that. Thought I was 
falling. You did well. Now hold me firmly, Gaston. These are a bit higher.' 
She reached higher, and the silk of her panties brushed past his face. He 
thought, 'I was right. They are matching black.' Now his nose was actually 
against the mound of her pubic bone. He was very aware of her scent, like 
that of Lisette when they petted in the park, but also a fresh scent of lilies of 
the valley. A tiny wisp of black hair peeked out from the crotch as they 
pulled to one side, she stretching out and upwards. The panties had loose legs 
but had ridden up tight against her, and besides the hair, he could see the 
shape of her cunt lips. Her thighs were soft and creamy white, and she was 
bare of hair where the silk had ridden up into her crotch. He knew she must 
have shaved there, or at least the lips, which were soft and pink. He had seen 
a wisp of hair earlier, so she must have left some. He had felt Lisette's in the 
dark of the cinema but had never been allowed to look: she had the lightest 
of fuzz, but some fine hairs even on her lips.  As she fastened each hook, her 
cunt rubbed against the bridge of his nose, and he could feel the heat and 
dampness there. He realized he was completely hard again. The toe of her 
shoe was up against his cock. He found himself wondering what it would be 
like to rub his naked cock against her high-heeled ankle. Shit!  He'd never 
been harder!  What would Miss Renoir think of him?

His hand slipped round to her bottom as she clambered down, still inside her 
panties. They were very close to each other, and he could see her eyes 
laughing. 'My word, look what I've done to you!'

He gasped as she reached down, and grasped his cock through the thin soccer 
shorts.

'I don't know what to say, Mademoiselle Renoir. I'm so sorry...'

She was laughing now. 'You should be sorry if you didn't get hard, Gaston. 
This is lovely!' She was rubbing him now, through the cotton. 'And you 
wouldn't believe what you've done to me.' She took his hand and pressed it 
to her crotch, thin satin where his nose had been seconds before. 'Feel that!' 
It was hot, and damp. He knew enough to know what that meant.

'Well. We can't stay like this all afternoon, can we? And what we need, 
Gaston, is just here.' 
She led him the two steps to her bed, pulling him by his cock.

Her peignoir slipped from her shoulders, and as she stood in front of him he 
felt his heart beat. She was so sexy in her shiny lingerie, with swelling tits 
and a lovely round bum. Her waist was so tiny in contrast, and he loved her 
thick glossy black hair falling to her shoulders.
He thought of Lisette, mentally comparing the slight, slender blonde with this 
voluptuous brunette. She pulled him to her, a hand on each of his shoulders, 
and kissed him, harder and more passionately than Lisette ever did. They 
were almost the same height, but she had to reach up just a little to kiss him. 
He was surprised, as she always looked rather tall when presenting the news 
on television. Her hands moved down his back and grasped his buttocks. He 
took this as his cue, and did the same, one hand inside her panties, caressing 
her flesh, and the other outside, feeling the shiny satin.

She laughed. 'I want to see you.' In a moment his t-shirt was up and over his 
head, dropped on the floor with her robe. She knelt in front of him and pulled 
his shorts down. Absurdly, he was suddenly pleased he had showered just 
before going out, and put on clean white underpants. Again he gasped as she 
closed her mouth over his cock, still inside his white cotton pants. She bit 
into the cotton quite hard, but short of hurting him. He moaned with 
pleasure. She laughed, pulled his trainers off, and finally pulled the cotton 
pants down to leave him naked. He wondered if she would suck him. He 
loved it when Lisette kissed his knob, but had not yet persuaded her to take 
him in her mouth. Not fair, really, as she had seen him but he had never seen 
her. His cock twitched involuntarily in anticipation. He again thought, 'I've 
never been harder than this.'

She thought to herself, 'How long is it since I last had a circumcised cock?' 
The American basketball player she had interviewed for Sportsweek a couple 
of winters ago. He had been massive, with his great black knob. This boy 
was only sixteen, but he was already big enough, and the white shaft sprung 
from its nest of reddish-gold hairs. The knob pointed arrogantly at her, 
promising delights. There was a promising, little, clear drop of liquid in its 
eye.

Holding him again by the cock, she pulled him onto the bed beside her. 

'I'm ready. You're ready. Fuck me, Gaston. Stick that lovely tool in me.'

He was lying on top of her, and could feel her hand between them still 
grasping his cock. Then she wiped it up and down her slit. Then he felt her 
wet heat around it. It was like nothing he had ever known before. No sooner 
was he in than he felt his orgasm building like a watch spring being wound 
up. He tried to stop, but could not. Just two thrusts, this first fuck, and he was 
pouring his cum into her in great spurts, a pleasure such as he had never 
known before.

She was laughing, and he felt a sudden shame, thinking she was mocking 
him for his incompetent efforts. 'I'm so sorry, Miss Renoir. I couldn't hold 
it.....'

'That's the second time you've apologized, Gaston. I never want you to 
again. It's very flattering when a man has such a passion for me. And you are 
still nice and hard in me. Just start again. It'll be a lot more slippery now, but 
you'll feel me gripping a bit harder. You've got me really worked up. You 
have good shoulders and biceps.' She licked his tanned shoulder blade, and 
felt the muscles of his arm. 'Squeeze my tits.'

He was fucking properly now, but gently as if he feared he might break 
something. He ran a hand over the smooth satin of her brassiere. The nipple 
was hard under it, like Lisette's did when he felt her. He could feel the edge 
of her knickers chaffing at his cock as he rode up the side of them.

'Pull the bra up. I want to feel you on my tits.'

He pulled the bra upwards, releasing her breasts. They were white in contrast 
to her golden tan. The nipples were big and brown, not like his girl's tiny 
little pink ones. But they were hard under his palm as he stroked the rounded 
flesh. He leaned down and licked the swelling mound, and then took a nipple 
between his lips. She groaned and moved faster beneath him, her hips rising 
to meet his, so their bodies smacked together. He knew she would come first 
this time, and from masturbating Lisette, could see her face flushing, and her 
eyes rolling as she got close to coming. But his little blonde had not prepared 
him for the sound of a mature woman in orgasm. He was momentarily 
petrified by the grunts, inarticulate cries, and demands for more, deeper and 
faster. But then, as he felt her cunt gripping, releasing, gripping, releasing, 
the passion of her obscene shouts brought him to his peak, and he suddenly 
found himself again pumping hot cum into her.

They lay together, quiet, his cock still in her. Finally he felt her cunt expel his 
now-limp tool, and he rolled off to lay beside her.  She pulled the crumpled 
bra over her shoulders, slipped her knickers down and was naked beside him, 
stroking his hairless chest and nestling her head against his shoulder. She 
wiped his cock with the black satin and then stuck them between her thighs 
to soak up his come.

'Now, that was a real fuck, Gaston. You've been practising.'

'No, really, Mademoiselle Renoir. That was my first time, I promise you.'

'Then you have a real talent, young man. And this will delight many 
women.' She held his cock lightly for a moment. She was pleased it was still 
at least half-hard. 'I'm hot. Let's shower.' 

She was amused at his interest in her shaped pubic hair.

They agreed on the water temperature, just this side of cold. She used the 
opportunity to study his body in detail, caressing him all over as she soaped 
him. How lucky she was to have had him the first time. Those shoulders, the 
clear broad back and tiny hips. The hard little bum, and here, his tight, almost 
hairless balls. She caressed him under the guise of washing.

'Me now.' In a sexual daze, he ran his hands over back and shoulders, tits, 
belly and bottom. And then up her legs to her crotch. 'My bottom, too.' He 
rubbed that secret place with a soapy finger. 'And inside, too.' Half afraid, he 
slipped his finger in, and felt her grip it. She giggled, and as they kissed 
under the running water, he felt her index finger slide up his arse. There was 
a sudden warmth as she caressed him in there, and he felt his cock rise 
between them.  

'The Greek way now. It's not so good for me, but you will love the feel.'

She braced herself against the wall so her bottom jutted out towards him. 
'Put it where you just had your finger!'

He gasped. 'Really? You mean...'

'Come on! Put a bit of soap on it and then ram it in hard.'

Looking back on the afternoon, Gaston decided the bit in the shower had 
been the best. Her cunt had been lovely and slippery, and tight enough to grip 
him. But her arse had been really tight, and seemed to milk the cum out of 
him as she thrust her buttocks backwards. Not knowing why, and not even 
thinking about what he was doing, he had found himself spanking those 
rounded, wet buttocks at the very moment he came between them.

And then they had dried off, and gone "to cool down again on the bed". Here 
she had sucked him till he was hard, and then till he came. He would have to 
teach Lisette how to roll her tongue round the knob as she sucked, and how 
to tickle his balls with one hand, a finger of the other up his arse. He had 
never cum so many times so quickly. He had offered to suck her, but she had 
laughed saying they ought  "to leave something for next time".

There was to be a next time! He was in a daze as he dressed and went to find 
his basket.

                                     ............................................................

It was about eight o'clock when the bell rang. After her pleasant afternoon 
with Gaston she had taken a cold bath and slipped round to the corner 
brasserie for a very light meal. She was now enjoying a cigarette, her first of 
the day, and a glass of Chablis, listening to Mozart on the radio. She worked 
most evenings, and it really was pleasant to sit here, well-fucked, well-
bathed, well-fed, and well-content!

'Damn!' she thought, but went to the door.

It was Lisette, clearly upset. She pushed past Belle, who closed the door.

'It's not fair. You're horrible!'

'Very probably, my dear. But why, particularly?'

'It's not fair. You're rich and famous and everything, and you've stolen my 
Gaston.'

'So the silly boy told you about our little afternoon fun?'

'He promised he'd be faithful!' She was sobbing now, anger mixed with self-
pity, Belle thought.

'Come and sit down, Lisette. I'll get you a glass, and we can talk.'

'I don't want to talk. I want my Gaston.'

'Now sit here, and listen a moment. I'm going to tell you some things my 
mother never told me, and I had to learn the hard way. Now blow your nose.'

They sat, Lisette's eyes swollen with tears, but flashing with anger, too.

'Gaston promised to be faithful. I'm afraid all men promise that. And none of 
them are. It is natural for men to chase women, and most men have at least a 
dozen in their lives. Some have hundreds, and the most sexy have thousands. 
And I mean real affaires, not just girls on the rue St Denis!'

'My Gaston wouldn't go there.'

'No, I don't think he would, and I'm sure he wouldn't need to. And you can't 
say "My Gaston". Firstly, you can't own a person, and second, that is just 
what real men hate, to be owned. The only men who are "faithful" are those 
who are so scared of a woman or scandal that they daren't not be. You 
wouldn't want a wimp like that, would you, Lisette?' 

'I suppose not. But are you sure? Surely some...?'

'No they're all the same. You see how the married men all stare at you when 
you're in the street?'

'I guess so.'

'Of course.' Belle slipped her arm round the girl's shoulder. She could smell 
lily of the valley on the girl's fine, blonde hair, the same perfume she 
favored. She gently, reassuringly squeezed the girl's upper arm. 'And I'll tell 
you what the advantage is to us women. It means that we can have any man 
we want, for just as long as we want and no longer. Now that is freedom, ma 
petite.'

'It's all right for you. You're famous, and they see you on Channel Two news 
every night.'

'Yes! It helps. But you have the freshness of youth. That is what men really 
want. How they lust after teenage girls! They pretend to be faithful, when 
they know they won't be! Or perhaps they really think they will be faithful 
until they see the chance of getting their palms on some tender young arse! 
Then all the promises are forgotten. Believe me, I know.'

'And your lovely clothes. These must have cost thousands. Mine are so 
plain.' She stroked the fine black silk negligee Belle was still wearing, 
though the panties and brassiere had been discarded, sweaty and spunk-
stained, and replaced by a thong and light, lacy bra. In the cool of the evening 
she had put on glossy black stockings.

'I'm thirty years older than you, ma petite. So I need a bit of help, But under 
these,' she opened her negligee to show black bra and panties that had helped 
seduce young Gaston, 'under these, I still have a good figure. You would be 
much sexier naked than me in any amount of silks and satins.'  

'Gaston likes sexy things. Stockings and shoes like yours.'

'Well, we'll get you some, my sweet. I'll send you to my favorite boutique 
and you can put some on my account. We can't have Gaston disappointed, 
can we?'

'Would you!'

'I'll phone Madame Delours this evening, and you can go round in the 
morning. Brassiere, panties, suspender belt, stockings and shoes. Ok?'

'You're lovely, Miss Renoir.'

'Not horrible any more? And call me Belle, Lisette.'

Lisette blushed.

'Do you and Gaston fuck?'

'No.'

'Why on earth not?'

'I won't let him.'

'He wants to?'

'He's after me to all the time.'

'And you want him?'

'I guess so.'

'You guess so! Well tomorrow put your new lingerie on when your parents 
are at work, call him, have him come round, and give him what I gave him 
today. Lucky boy! And make sure he uses condoms. New one each time. And 
you'd better buy at least six!'

'Should I? I will. I'll do it.'

'You wouldn't believe how excited I am for you, Lisette. Feel how my heart 
is racing.' She took the girl's hand and placed it on her full bosom. 'Can you 
feel it?'

'Mine's the same.' This was the cue for Belle to slip her had up under the 
girl's loose blouse and feel her naked breast beneath. It felt firm, pointy, with 
hard nipples. Neither of them had any thought to remove their palms.

'Kiss and make up, then, Lisette?'

'Yes!'

Their kiss was more like a lovers', as they lingered over it.

'That was lovely, ma petite. Now, you'd better get back or your parents will 
think you're doing something naughty with Gaston!'

Lisette giggled.

'And tomorrow afternoon, come round and show me your new finery, and 
tell me how Gaston performed!' 

                                                ...............................................


It was still hot the following afternoon. Belle was sitting on her balcony, 
dressed this time in nothing but a gold silk brassiere, and matching French 
knickers. She had thought about the thong from the set, but in this heat she 
needed some air around her cunt. Especially when she thought of what she 
hoped to do to and with young Lisette.

It was about four, and Belle was into her second glass of chilled white wine 
when the pretty little blonde crossed the square and stood under the balcony. 
She was heart-stoppingly lovely in her white t-shirt and tight, faded jeans. 
She had a white plastic carrier bag.

'Come up and have a chat, Lisette.'

Lisette was not surprised when the door was opened by the scantily dressed 
tv star. After all, they were girls together. And it was terribly hot. Though 
inside the apartment it felt cool.

'I bought the lingerie. It will cost you a hundred and sixty euros.'

'That is very moderate of you, my dear.'

'But these cost eighty. I hope that's not too much.'

'But they are lovely. I love silver slippers, and I'm sure they'll look lovely on 
you. Show me everything.'

The teenager giggled and blushed, but she dropped her jeans and pulled the 
shirt up over her head. The girl's taste was appalling! And yet Belle felt her 
clit wake up and tingle as the girl stripped. She slipped her silver shoes on 
and stood in front of Belle, awkward, her hands clasped behind her back and 
her hips pushed a bit forward. She looked exactly what she was, a fourteen 
year old girl pretending to be a tart.

'You look lovely, my dear. And did Gaston appreciate you?' She had chosen 
scarlet panties, with black trim, and a transparent black nylon panel instead 
of a crotch. The matching brassiere pushed her tits up even higher, and 
pulling them together gave a deep cleavage that was not really there. The 
stockings were hold-ups, black and shiny. 'At least she hasn't bought any 
naff suspender belt,' thought the older woman. 'I'll bet he did!' Yes, the tarty 
lingerie was almost calculated to appeal to a sixteen year old lad, hormones 
raging through his body. 'Turn round. Lovely! What a lucky boy!' From 
behind she was lovely, the panties hugging her hard little bottom, hips still 
narrow. The red string across her tanned back, and the crowning glory of 
long, blonde hair flowing over her shoulders.

'I bought a suspender-belt, too. But I left that for next time I have him.'

'Keep them interested, my dear. That's the secret.'

'You were right, Mademoiselle Renoir. I mean, Belle. He went crazy for me. 
From eleven till just now, he couldn't keep his hands off me. And you were 
right. he needed six! Though there wasn't much in it when I took the last one 
off him. She giggled. 'I emptied him!'

'Until the next time, my dear. He'll be full up again by tomorrow, I bet you.' 
She had her arms round the girl, She was slightly taller, and the girl's bottom 
pressed against the top of Belle's thighs. The girl's belly felt firm and warm 
under her crossed forearms.

'Do you have a lover, Belle?'

'I have two, my dear. There's Marcel. He's a stockbroker. You'd like him. 
He's a very skilled lover and he's got a wonderful body. And then there's 
Mireille. You probably know her. She reads the news on Channel Seven. 
She's the petite blonde one.' She kissed the back of the girl's neck, where the 
finest of blonde hair started. Strange, she thought, how the hair always grows 
upwards there. The girl pressed back harder into her belly as she licked the 
soft flesh.

'You make love to a woman?'

'Of course, my dear. Their caresses are so gentle, their hands so soft.' She 
reached up to stroke the girl's breast. 'And they know exactly what gives the 
most pleasure.' She reached down with her other hand to caress the silk-
covered pubic mound. The girl sighed. Lisette's heart was beating strongly 
enough for Belle to feel it through the thin fabric where her palm was 
pressing the firm little breast. 'It's exciting, isn't it? I can feel your heart 
beating.' She turned the girl round to face her, and kissed her. there was no 
hesitation as Lisette's tongue sought out her own. 'Sit down with me, and tell 
me about how it was this afternoon.'

Lisette looked so cute, her knees primly together, beside her on the couch,

'We sat on the new leather couch, just like we are. It was like it always is at 
first with him kissing me and feeling my tits through my t-shirt, and then 
pulling it up over my head. He was amazed at my new bra, I tell you.' She 
giggled. 'He liked it so much he didn't even try to take it off like he always 
does. And I'd have let him this time.' She giggled again. 'That's nice.' Belle 
was cradling her young breast in her palm, and tweaking the pert little nipple 
through the lace. She could see the pinkness through the garish red fabric. 
'Anyway, my heart was really beating, and I'm sure he could feel it even 
through my tits. I purposely bought a bra with the clasp at the front, and he 
soon undid it, and I let him see me for the first time. I could see he was very 
hard....a huge bulge in his shorts, and I could feel it against my thigh when he 
kissed me again. As we kissed I unbuttoned his shirt.'
   
'Feel how my heart is beating, too.' Belle reached behind her shoulders and 
unclasped her brassiere to let it fall to the carpet in front of them. Hesitantly, 
Lisette felt the full, round flesh, stroking her gently, and then squeezing, still 
gently. She could indeed feel Belle's heart beating.. 

'I can feel it beating. And your nipples are hard, like mine.'

'Let me see.' She undid the clasp at the front and the red lace and silk fell to 
the floor. 'You are lovely.' She leaned forward and kissed one pink nipple 
and then the other.

'Let me, too.' The blonde in her turn sucked first one brown nipple and then 
the other, pressing her face into the firm flesh.

They kissed, naked bosom to naked bosom, till Lisette broke off, panting and 
giggling. 'I just love your tongue in my mouth. Gaston doesn't kiss as well as 
you, darling Belle. Anyway, where was I. Oh yes, next he put his hand up my 
stockings to the nude bit at the top. He must have been surprised to find 
stocking tops as I usually wear nothing or tights. Anyway, he kept on 
stroking my thighs, sometimes the shiny stockings, and sometimes me. Just 
like you're stroking me, too.'  

Her tiny hand was resting on Belle's thigh. How she was looking forward to 
stroking that firm, slightly rounded belly too.

'I knew he wouldn't do much more unless I made it easy, sort of obvious, so 
I undid the button on my skirt and unzipped it, just enough to show my 
lovely panties...'

'I bet he liked that!'

'Did he not! So I took his hand in mine, lifted it off my thigh, and slipped it 
down the front of my panties. You could see it through the lace. Just like you 
can see yours now, inside . That's lovely. Shall I?' As she spoke she slipped 
her hand down the waist of Belle's shining French knickers. You could not 
see her hand through the gold satin. 

'I'd let him have a feel before, in the cinema. But I'd never been as excited as 
this. I lifted my bum and slipped my skirt off. Now he kissed me again, with 
his finger on my clit this time. I was ever-so wet! You are, too, Belle.' Lisette 
was slipping her finger up and down Belle's slit, touching her slippery clit 
and nearly entering the hot, welcoming cunt. Belle had been doing the same 
to her for several minutes.

'I'm taking my knickers off. I don't want them to get all wet.'

'Me, too.' The gold satin and the red and black nylon joined the brassieres on 
the carpet. They fingered each other as Lisette told her tale, explaining how 
Gaston took the initiative now, undressing completely, and then pulling her 
panties down. 

'Oh, that's sexy.' Belle had a Brazil, the thin line of black hair contrasting 
wickedly with the white flesh of her mound and plump, pink, naked cunt lips. 
'Do you shave it?'

'Wax my sweet. A beauty salon in the sixteenth. But yours is just too 
beautiful. Leave it as it is.' The blonde hair was only slightly curly, a light 
fuzz over her mound, and even lighter over her cuntlips, which the fondling 
and caressing had plumped and opened, to show a little, dewy clit peeping 
out.

Does it hurt, waxing I mean?'

'Horribly. But both my lovers like it like this.'
      
'I do too.' One hand was still caressing the woman's clit, but she stroked the 
smooth cunt flesh with the other, and combed the thin, glossy line of the 
remaining hair. 'Do you do this with Mireille Massut? I was looking at her 
on the television last night, and wondering what it would be like.' 

'This and a few other things. I'll show you.' She was on her knees in front of 
the girl, one hand on each thigh, spreading them a centimeter or two wider. 
The girl squeaked as Belle pressed a kiss on the open cunt, her tongue 
seeking out the clit, just as it had sought out the girl's tongue in their earlier, 
more innocent embraces. She was pleased as the girl's bottom slipped a bit 
towards her, down to the edge of the couch, and her hips rose so slightly to 
meet the teasing mouth. Her fingers must have brought the girl to the very 
brink, because she had scarcely begun to suck and nibble at that delightful 
slot when she heard the girl slipping into orgasm. Lisette grunted, and her 
hips rose and fell as she came. As the spasms declined, Belle sat back on her 
heels, still holding the cunt open, looking at the pink flesh, with its pretty 
fringe of blonde hair.

'That was lovely, Belle. At least as nice as.... Can I for you now?'

'I'd love that, Lisette. But it'll be nicer still in bed. Come with me.'

This hot summer there was only a white silk base-sheet stretched tight over 
the double bed, no other bedclothes. Lisette lay down first, and then Belle, 
her face resting on that smooth, firm belly. She licked round the navel, and it 
tasted salt. Lisette giggled. 'Tickles!' Belle nuzzled between her legs, 
pushing then open with her cheeks. Thighs closed on the woman's head, 
gripping her as her tongue again sought out the eager little clit. 

Belle opened her legs, and felt a timid, tentative tongue on her own clit. 
Then, as if a decision had been made, the full, open mouth on her cunt, 
tongue momentarily deep inside her, before returning to lick and lap at her 
cunt. She gripped the girl tighter round her back and rolled so the girl was on 
top of her. They lost themselves in the pleasure of sucking, nibbling, licking, 
while their hands kneaded and caressed. Each could hear the other's muffled 
cries of delight, and each could feel the writhings and buckings of their 
partner's rising passion. Belle slipped a finger, wet from Lisette's love-juice 
into her tight anus, and was rewarded by feeling the girl's index finger 
slipping into her own. She had a sudden mental image of her lover, Marcel, 
buggering this girl, taking her other virginity. Kneeling behind her and 
sliding his cock into that secret place where her finger was dabbling. The 
image was exciting and she felt herself coming. On top of her Lisette was 
raking her cunt up and down Belle's face, clit sliding over her nose, lips and 
chin. The girl was coming, too. In a tangle of limbs they came, disturbing the 
peace of the Square outside the open windows with the cries and moans of 
their passion. Old Monsieur Jonqueur leaned on his walking-stick listening. 
He felt a stirring in his cock, the first for many months, and hurried inside to 
take advantage of the rare erection.

Later, Lisette stubbed out her cigarette, and reached to caress Belle's breast 
again. Belle smiled, amused. There was nothing like a teenager...boy or 
girl...for repeated passion. 'You said you do other things with Mireille. What 
else, Belle?' Belle felt her clit responding to the girl's hand on her nipple, as 
if there were a hidden thread connecting her cunt and her breast. She 
reciprocated, resting her hand on the girl's pretty mound.

Well, there's this.' She pulled it from under the mattress. It was a strap-on 
dildo.  'We call it Iron Mike. You know, after Mike Tyson. But not many 
men have one as big as this.'

Lisette laughed, and stood it up on her mound.

'And then there's this.' This was a double dildo, pink flexible plastic. 'We 
call it Moet and Chandon.'

'Which end is Moet?' 

'This one.' Belle slipped the pink knob into her own open, slippery cunt, and 
then pushed another few inches home.

'So this end is Chandon?' Lisette cuddled up close, and slipped the other end 
into her equally-prepared cunt. She giggled and embraced her older lover. As 
they kissed they slipped down the bed, till Belle was lying on top of her teen 
conquest. Lisette was wriggling, enjoying the feeling of tight fullness .

She stopped kissing for a moment. 'Fuck me, Belle. let's fuck!' Their mouths 
met again, but now both were wriggling and she had her legs clasped round 
Belle's buttocks, just as she had when Gaston had fucked her that afternoon. 
This was as good, she thought. It was as good to fuck a girl as a boy. 
Different, but as good. The woman was heavy on her bosom, their breasts 
pressing together. She could feel the sweat between their bodies as they 
fucked, making their tits slip and slide. Belle bit her neck, and she scratched 
at Belle's back, as their excitement rose. She could feel and hear Belle 
coming, her belly crashing down now, the dildo sliding in and out of each of 
them, never quite slipping out because of the size of the helmets at each end.

They were noisy as they came, scandalizing the sedate neighborhood. In his 
armchair, old Jonqueur heard, through two windows, across the Square, and 
one story lower. He rubbed harder, and he came, momentarily worried for his 
heart.

Lying side-by-side, smoking, they chatted. Or rather, Lisette chatted, excited 
by the new experience. Belle listened, enjoying the girl's pleasure.

Finally Belle interrupted. 'Yes, my sweet, that was lovely. But do you want 
to know what is really good? 

'Better than that?'

'Oh, yes! Think about this. A hard cock up you from behind, laying beside 
you, fucking long and slow. And at the same time a tongue on your clit, 
licking and nibbling and sucking. And you sandwiched between two eager 
bodies.'

'Mmmmmm.'

'And when the one fucking has finished, they switch round.'

'Belle, I think I want it again!' She stubbed her cigarette out and reached for 
Belle's Brazil. 

'I'm done, sweet. Fucked!'

'Have you done that, I mean two at once?'

'Would you like to, Lisette?'

'Could we?'

'Of course. Marcel visits me every Friday afternoon. You'll like Marcel. I'll 
have him fuck you while I suck you.'

'Oh, Belle!' She grasped Belle's legs, and planted a kiss on her stomach. 
Belle laughed, and disentangled herself.

'No more for me today. But I've another idea, why not have Gaston, too. 
Then Marcel can fuck you while Gaston sucks. Then Gaston can fuck you 
while Marcel sucks.'

'What about you, Belle?'

'Oh, I can suck the spare cock. And I'll enjoy watching you, my sweet. And I 
expect both of them will have enough energy to do me too. Marcel always 
comes twice, and from what you tell me of Gaston, he can come as often as 
he wants. So Thursday it is. Four o'clock. You bring Gaston, and I'll make 
sure Marcel is in good form. I'll tell him to stay away from his wife for a 
couple of days! Now let's get up. A shower and a cold Chablis.'

                                                   FIN