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Archive name: erosu.txt (MF, rom, mast)
Authors name: LishaVei (lishavei@aol.com)
Story title : Surrogate: A Nicolas Renouvin Story
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Surrogate: A Nicolas Renouvin Story (MF, rom, mast)
by LishaVei (LishaVei@aol.com)
***
Nicolas was conscious of the door opening.
"Yvonne, Yvonne, is that you? Have you come back to me
my darling?
It was a struggle to raise himself from the pillows and
painful to open his eyes.
"Sorry Monsieur Nicolas, it's only me Cecile"
The maid of all work entered the room and proceeded to
draw back the heavy drapes, sunlight flooded into the
room.
Nicolas uttered a cry of pain, "For God's sake Cecile
close them up, my eyes, my head" and he groaned in
agony.
Cecile complied with his commands. She looked round at
the devastation, the drawers pulled out onto the floor,
the open closets, the garments strewn about, the broken
vases and lamp all witnesses of Yvonne's rage as she
had stormed about the room grabbing clothes and makeup
and perfumes and stuffing them into a case, as she took
her violent departure. Cecile's shrewd brain summed up
the situation in a trice.
"She left you then Monsieur Nicolas"
Cecile was blunt and direct in her speech whilst at the
same time preserving an appearance of respect.
"Gone back to that fat faggot she calls a husband,
Monsieur Soulangier, theatrical impresario and self-
made millionaire has she? He won't be too pleased,
he'll have to throw his boyfriend out!" She gave a
throaty chuckle. "She must be mad is all I can say
Monsieur leaving a vigorous young man like yourself"
This compliment was no consolation to Nicolas who had
grown accustomed to Yvonne, to having her (in his
opinion) incomparably beautiful body available to him
at all times.
"Ah Cecile, my heart is broken, I shall never find
another like her."
Cecile was unmoved by this "My God you look rough" she
continued "Come on Monsieur Nicolas cheer up there's
plenty more like her just waiting to hop into your bed
I'm sure and anyway she'll be back before long you can
count on it, and if she isn't you can always have me.
No point hitting the bottle - you should have hit her"
She laughed at this witticism.
Nicolas was, or pretended to be, taken aback by all
this
"Have you Cecile? Whatever do you mean?"
"You know well enough Monsieur. Have me, do me, get it
up me, make love to me I think you call it, after all
I've got everything necessary under this drab grey
linen dress. Believe me you can do it to me anyway you
want, have a good old fuck"
Nicolas looked astonished, Cecile laughed, she was a
bit taken aback by her own boldness, still why not?
Besides she said to herself I bet the first time young
Nico dipped his wick it was with one of his mama's
maids.
"Think about it Monsieur. Here, I'll make you a hair of
the dog then you take a shower and I'll make coffee and
tidy up in here"
"You are too kind Cecile and believe me I have need of
kindness, a great need.
Oh yes, I'm sure thought Cecile, smiled to herself,
left the room, went to the kitchen and put on the
coffee maker and then concocted a hangover remedy out
of tomato juice and bitters which she took back to
Nicolas who was now sitting up fully though still
moaning.
"Get this down you Monsieur, you'll soon feel right as
rain."
Grimacing he complied. She picked up his robe from the
end of the bed and handed it to him "Off you go now, a
shower will set you up fine, you'll be ready for
anything." Even a fuck with the maid she added
silently. Obediently he put it on and headed for the
bathroom.
Cecile busied herself with tidying up, straightening
the bed and noticing the stains of lovemaking on the
sheets, putting clothes back into drawers and dresses
back on hangers. Some of Madame's delicate underwear
she put to one side together with a pair of violet silk
stockings, spraying the garments and herself with some
of Madame's precious and very expensive perfume, which
Yvonne had abandoned in her flight.
Nicolas returned feeling much refreshed and climbed
back onto the bed and Cecile arranged the pillows
behind him, he caught a whiff of Yvonne's perfume and
sighed deeply.
"Now then Monsieur don't go getting depressed again
just when you're feeling better, everything's going to
be fine"
A plan was forming in Cecile's shrewd and active brain.
"I'll get the coffee, that'll make a new man of you."
Whilst Nicolas drank the strong restorative coffee,
Cecile continued her chores, and soon order was
restored to the room, everything back in its place and
the broken shards of vases and ornaments disposed of.
Cecile noted that however hasty Madame's departure she
had made sure that she took all her jewelry!
"Ah, Cecile your excellent coffee seems to have calmed
my jangled nerves. But how can I restore tranquility to
my mind and body Cecile? Is there any way?"
Cecile appeared to think deeply for a while then she
said "Perhaps there is. I have an idea. If it fails,
nothing is lost. If it succeeds, calm will be restored
to you."
"Tell me!" "Will you trust me, Monsieur Nicolas?"
Nicolas who was thinking of Cecile's earlier offer of
physical consolation decided to play along, he was
feeling much better! "Implicitly. You have shown
yourself to be a person of profound sympathy."
Cecile smiled at this "I hope I have Monsieur after all
I have your best interests at heart and you are in need
of comfort." Again she gave her throaty chuckle. "Now
Monsieur Nicolas take off your robe and lie down, here
I'll take some of those pillows away." Cecile also
pulled the coverlet and sheet down to the bottom of the
bed. Nicolas obeyed her instructions, removed the robe
and lay there naked except for a pair of black silk
shorts, (a gift from Yvonne) with just one pillow under
his head. Cecile spoke again "Now Monsieur Nicolas
just close your eyes and keep them closed. This is most
important."
She next arranged the opening of his shorts so that it
would not constrict his vital part. Then she gathered
the frothy, delicate, garments she had put to one side
earlier and went to the dressing table to fetch a
perfume spray.
"Are your eyes closed? Now stay still and accept
whatever happens."
She draped an item or two of silk and lace over his
face and gave them a quick spray of expensive perfume.
"Ah,' Nicolas murmured, "that fragrance! I could almost
believe that she is here with me."
Cecile said nothing. She stood beside the bed observing
the effect on him. Inside the shorts his limp organ was
stirring - that being the art of the perfumier, to
arouse a man's feelings - it began to protrude through
the opening. She dangled a violet silk stocking by the
toe so it just brushed over the head of his lengthening
and thickening staff, which now stood out fully
exposed. As it grew stronger yet and raised itself from
his belly, she got his erection inside the stocking so
that the silk clung along its whole length. She stroked
the length of his shaft with her fingertips.
`Oh my God!' Nicolas whispered through the scented
garments over his face.
Cecile continued pulling the stocking from his by now
rigid member she trailed it slowly up over his hard
belly and over his chest and nipples. Ah. . . ah. . .
ah. . .' he sighed. She trailed the stocking back as
slowly and delicately and he writhed and twisted on the
bed. Then she wadded up the silk stocking and pushed it
gently between his thighs so that he would feel the
touch of it against his balls and then flicked at his
jutting part with a pair of eau-de-Nil coloured
knickers. Only a few moments of this were needed to
render Nicolas incoherent with pleasure. She wrapped
the garment loosely round his trembling part, so that
more sensation would arise from the intermittent
contact and so carry Nicolas further towards his goal.
That done, she stood back from the bed to remove her
gray linen dress which as it buttoned all down the
front was soon off followed by her other garments, a
thin white cotton brassiere, soft and shapeless from
wear and washing and a pair of grey rayon knickers very
plain and uninspiring when compared to Madame's frilly
silks. She kicked off her shoes and stood naked but for
a pair of black woolen stockings held up by white
garters. She was ten years older then Yvonne
Soulangier, which made her thirty-four. She was not
unattractive, in her way, but the nature of her work
and the long hours involved meant that she had little
time to herself and her pleasures had necessarily been
with men of her own class and therefore lacking in
finesse.
At the present time she had an 'arrangement' with a
Monsieur Laurent Dugard who had a small drapers shop in
the quarter where she lived. He had an invalid wife
(Cecile suspected that the nature of her indisposition
was an aversion to sex with Monsieur Dugard) and he
visited Cecile on Sunday afternoons. This had come
about through Cecile getting into debt at Dugard's
store through buying clothes she could not really
afford some three years previously. Dugard had
encouraged her and then suggested how she could pay-off
the debt. She was still paying. He would arrive about
three having dined well and downed a carafe of red
wine. His needs were simple and his technique
rudimentary.
He expected only that she put on a plain white cotton
nightdress whilst he himself put on a nightshirt. She
would lie on the bed, the nightdress up to her waist
with her legs drawn up and widespread holding open the
lips of her quim and after some minutes of
contemplating her exposed parts during which he played
with his short stubby weapon to bring it to full
stiffness he climbed on to the bed and onto Cecile. She
would guide his blunt instrument into her vagina, first
moistening the head with her saliva and he would work
away, up and down and in and out, and the old bed would
rock and shake and the springs would rattle and jangle,
and Dugard would be squeezing and rubbing her breasts
through the cloth of her nightgown, nipping the nipples
between thumb and forefinger as they hardened, until
with a sort of bellow he would shoot off his load, fall
forward and then roll off her and fall into a noisy
sleep punctuated by belches and farts.
In the early days she would then have to go to the
bathroom and remove the vinegar soaked piece of sponge
she had inserted into her vagina before his arrival and
douche herself thoroughly, washing out his thick sperm.
Then she would push a freshly soaked piece of sponge up
her quim ready for the next go. Sure enough, when he
woke up, Dugard would turn to her, give her a few
slobbering kisses, fumble her breasts, feel up her slit
and then fuck her again just as rapidly and then he
would dress and depart. He would occasionally expect a
variation in position and put his cock into her from
behind as she knelt on all fours on the floor banging
up against her buttocks forcefully as he squeezed her
hanging down tits enthusiastically, stretching her
nipples downwards between finger and thumb as though
milking a cow.
Sometimes he rewarded her with gifts of chocolates and
cheap underclothes and stockings from the shop. When he
had gone and after another douche she would lie back on
the bed and slowly bring herself off. Nowadays though
she used a Dutch Cap, which she had obtained free, from
the local clinic run by a society of middle-class do-
gooding ladies who were concerned about the rabbit-like
breeding habits of the lower classes. The lady doctor
who fitted it for her and instructed her in its use
looked though as if she preferred the pleasures of her
own sex, possibly with the pert little dark-haired
nurse who assisted her. Good luck to them thought
Cecile if they were a pair of lezzers at least they
didn't have to worry about douches, sponges, vinegar or
even Dutch Caps!
So it is not surprising that she envied people like
Yvonne Soulangier and Nicolas Renouvin who enjoyed such
freedom in regard to their amorous lives no one can
say, of course, what was uppermost in her thoughts as
she got on to the bed to straddle Nicolas. The
opportunity to try out for herself the joys of Yvonne's
lover - it may have been partly that - in addition to
her natural desire for the money which she was sure
that a grateful Nicolas would give to her if only from
a certain sense of obligation to a woman of her class.
She had learnt early in life that pleasure and greed
are two strong motives which frequently go together.
One thing was certain however; a very thrilling
sensation gripped her at the thought of what she was
about to do. A delicious feeling that set her sexual
secretions flowing.
Because the underwear draped over his face blindfolded
him, Nicolas saw nothing of her broad bared belly and
its thick muff of black hair, nothing of the fleshy
lips of her slit now moist with her juices, which she
drew apart with her fingers. He felt the caress, as
soft as a whisper, of the silk draped around his
upstanding part gently pulled away, to be replaced by
warm flesh, firm but yielding, that slowly took him
into itself.
`Yvonne!' he exclaimed, `I adore you!'
Cecile was careful not to touch him directly with her
hands in case he could distinguish between Yvonne's
soft skin and her own work-hardened as it was. She
balanced herself above his loins and rode gently up and
down, hearing him babble on and on, as his excitement
grew stronger. Men are complete idiots, she thought;
give them a sniff at a pair of drawers and they take
leave of their senses. What stupidity!
`Yvonne!' Nicolas moaned.
`Yes, cheri, yes,' Cecile whispered back, trying to
imitate the accent and tone of a woman of Yvonne's
class. She need not have given herself the trouble.
Nicolas was far beyond the point at which he could
distinguish between one woman's voice and another. She
continued to ride him slowly and his loins rose by
degrees from the bed, pushing deeper, as he hung
tremulously on the brink of rapture.
As Nicolas's cock suddenly stiffened more, a sure sign
that he was about to shoot his lot, Cecile was suddenly
aware that she was more than mildly aroused by this
lovemaking and gasping in pleasant surprise she held
her pendant breasts and squeezed the stiff nipples as
Nicolas went off and his quivering rod and spurting jet
flicked her into a brief but exhilarating climax. She
had to struggle hard to stop herself crying out with
pleasure.
`Oh yes. . . oh yes. . .' Nicolas whispered, until his
words changed into a long muted wail as he came off in
ecstasy and shot his load into Cecile. And what a load,
what a fountain, the force and extent of it quickly
brought Cecile back to reality. She hoped Madame Yvonne
had not taken with her the douche she kept in the
bathroom. However she just couldn't jump off in mid-
stream as it were, so still riding up and down easily
with her slippery quim glowing and twitching with
pleasure, she waited for his spasms of delight to fade,
watching his quivering belly in surprise at how long
they were lasting.
Monsieur Dugard and most other men she had known were
finished in about five seconds flat after their cocks
began to shoot off. Nicolas however continued to
shudder and gasp in ecstatic release long after he had
emptied himself into her.
Now that, she thought, would do wonders for a woman
properly prepared in advance to share it with him.
Perhaps she had discovered the secret of these
bourgeois lovers - perhaps it was an intensity of
passion prolonged for a long time.
Only when Nicolas at last lay still did she climb with
care off the bed, and hasten to the bathroom. Yes the
douche was there. Thank God for that, she didn't mind
doing it for money but she didn't want a bellyful of
arms and legs thrown in thank you very much. She ran
warm water into the hand-basin and made it as soapy as
she could and filled the device with it, then sitting
on the bidet she inserted the nozzle and washed herself
out. She carefully washed her outer parts as well and
then she dried herself on one of the thick white
towels. God how lovely and soft, what it was to be
rich! She replaced the douche. Tomorrow she would be
fully prepared with her Dutch Cap in position! Quickly
she returned to the bedroom. Nicolas still lay inert
with the chemise over his face and an occasional tremor
still shook his body, she noted, as, she put on her
brassiere, knickers and dress. Then properly dressed
again, she gently removed the chemise from his face His
eyes opened slowly to take in his surroundings before
focusing on the friendly face of the maid standing
beside the bed.
`Oh, it's you, Cecile,' he said, smiling at her, `I had
a most marvelous dream.'
`Did you, Monsieur Nicolas? What was it?'
`She was here with me and we made love. It was
incredible! I feel so good ahhh- so calm.'
`I'm very pleased to hear that. Do you want to sleep
for a while?'
`I believe that I will. You won't go away, will you?'
"No, I have plenty of work to do around the apartment.
I shall be here when you wake up. I'll draw the
curtains to help you sleep."
For the rest of the afternoon Cecile busied herself
with hand-washing and ironing all the expensive
underwear that she could find, putting some into her
bag to take home and putting the rest into the airing
closet for future use. She also made a mental note to
help herself to one or two of the fashionable frocks
and a selection of the cosmetics abandoned by Yvonne.
That stuck up cow would never miss them. Cecile was
growing tired of Monsieur Dugard. This afternoon had
brought her the realization that at her age she
deserved something better, something satisfying to
herself. Yes she certainly did and if she smartened
herself up with the aid of Yvonne's wardrobe she was
sure she could seduce young Monsieur Carvagel who had
the room next to hers and looked at her with such
longing eyes having no doubt heard through the thin
walls of the apartments the discordant music of her
bedsprings on Sunday afternoons as Dugard fucked
merrily away!
He was a well set-up young man was Monsieur Carvagal, a
floor-walker in the Galeries Lafayette but it was
obvious that he was shy and made shyer by an
unfortunate stammer and she knew he was lonely since
the death of his mother to whom he had been devoted.
Besides he was at an interesting age and with the
techniques she was going to learn from Nicolas she
would be able to make him make both himself and herself
very happy!
She sang softly as she worked, pleased that her little
ruse had proved to be a success beyond her
expectations. It had calmed Nicolas down and without
question that alone had earned her a considerable tip
from him when he woke up. In passing, he had given her
unawares a brief pleasure which she had not expected -
and an insight into the ways of those with more money
and leisure than herself. But that apart, she was
cheered by the thought that Nicolas would without doubt
be generous to her and that led her to speculate on the
possibility of making more money from him to add to her
savings, before the lovelorn young man recovered his
wits and found himself another woman - a matter of a
week or ten days at the most, in Cecile's estimation.
She woke Nicolas at six in the evening with a glass of
tea with a thin slice of lemon in it. While he was
sipping at it gratefully she got a basin of warm soapy
water, a wash-cloth and a towel and devoted her
attention to his exposed cock, now soft and small and
looking so harmless, washing away the dried sperm and
quim juice that matted his pubic hair, gently drawing
back his foreskin to wash the purple head and drying it
tenderly almost. She did all this in the most matter-
of-fact way and he accepted it without demur as though
he were a child again and she was his nanny.
"Has your sleep refreshed you?" she asked.
"Yes, I am eternally in your debt, Cecile. When you
found me here, I wanted to die. Now I am ready to live
again. I can never repay you for your kindness."
"As to that, Monsieur Nicolas..."
"Of course! If you will be so good as to pass my jacket
to me. . . there, I know that mere money can never
repay the devotion you have shown me today in my hour
of need, but I hope that you will accept this as a
small token of my gratitude."
"You are too kind," Cecile said politely, tucking the
bank notes quickly down her dress front into her
brassiere. "If only I could do more to help you through
this time of anguish." `Perhaps there is a way to help
me,' he said slowly "Though I hesitate to impose my
misery on you. You have only to mention it Monsieur you
don't have to be shy with me!" "Because of you I
enjoyed a dream of such exquisite pleasure that I shall
never forget it. I would like to dream that dream
again, if you could bring yourself to assist me."
Between them it was arranged that Cecile should return
to the apartment on the next day at three. She made
ready to leave.
"Oh Monsieur Nicolas can I get you anything to eat
after all you must keep up your strength"
"It's all right Cecile I will telephone the bistro on
the corner and have them send something up."
When she arrived, fully prepared, next day she left her
hat and coat in the entrance hall and went to the
bedroom, where the door stood slightly open. Inside,
the curtains were drawn to dim the room and Nicolas was
in bed, his eyes closed as if he were asleep.
"Yvonne - it's you at last," he whispered, not
stirring.
Without a word, Cecile took from her capacious handbag
a violet coloured satin chemise and spread it gently
over his face. She had already sprayed it with Madame's
perfume and the familiar fragrance caused Nicolas to
sigh loudly.
"You are so adorable, Yvonne! To be with you is
happiness beyond imagining."
Cecile had brought the spray with her. She squirted a
cloud of fragrance on to the silk to intensify its
effect.
"Cherie!" Nicolas moaned.
She drew the coverlet and sheet away from him and down
to the foot of the bed. He was naked with his stretched
legs spread wide and his cock was at full stretch.
"See how impatiently I have been waiting for you," he
murmured.
Cecile delved into her bag for a pair of silk stockings
and trailed them slowly the length of his body, from
throat to thighs, then upwards along his strong shaft
from base to tip. This caress, many times repeated,
brought about a trembling in his limbs and made his
upstanding part twitch.
"It is so thrilling when you tease me," he whispered,
"you will drive me mad with pleasure. Don't stop!"
Cecile still fully dressed, kicked off her shoes,
climbed on to the bed and knelt between his spread
legs. She continued the treatment until she judged the
moment right - Nicolas was squirming in delight and
muttering little endearments. She wound the stocking
around the end of his eager shaft that throbbed so
urgently, so that it covered his foreskin and holding
the stocking top in one hand and the foot in the other
pulled it out to its full length with his cock held
firmly upright by it.
Tightening her grip on the free ends she gently moved
the stocking up and down causing the necessary friction
over the head of his cock. She tossed him off at arms-
length as it were.
The result was dramatic. Nicolas convulsed as if an
electric wire had touched him and jetted a fountain of
cum into the air most of which rained down on to the
front of Cecile's dress as he climaxed, shuddering with
pleasure. But, Cecile observed, the duration of his
passion was much shorter than the day before. Evidently
he required something more to bring him to full
release.
His words confirmed her deduction.
"Ah, cherie," he said, `No one has ever aroused me as
you do. I dream incessantly of your beautiful body."
Cecile got off the bed and as before, stripped off
quickly and then took up her position, kneeling above
his loins. His firmness had only partially relaxed and
moistening two fingers with saliva she rubbed them
gently over his nipples, which quickly brought his cock
to full erection, and she guided up and into her eager
vagina. The slippery warmth of that contact brought
back Nicolas's vigor in full measure.
It was in Cecile's mind that on this occasion she might
benefit equally with Nicolas from the union of bodies.
She therefore slid up and down very slowly so as to
give herself time to respond physically to the feel of
what was inserted in her. Nicolas trembled and sighed
as she worked away steadily - his satisfaction was
assured and she could take thought for her own.
She had been told that the positions of love number 128
and she had seen illustrations in a book of engravings
here in Nicolas's apartment that demonstrated the
possibilities that existed when a man and a woman had
the time and inclination to experiment with such
diversions. Nevertheless, the only ones Cecile had
experienced herself were three in number - flat on her
back, on all fours, or standing against a wall,
according to circumstances at the time. To find herself
sitting above a man who was lying on his back was
unfamiliar, of course. Yesterday she had not really
appreciated it but she could get to like it very much
she now thought! She experienced a strange sensation -
not of doing it to him instead of him doing it to her,
which she would have expected - but almost of doing it
to herself! That was of no importance, however, for she
was pleasing him and at the same time she was giving
herself pleasure.
When the spasms in Nicolas's body warned her of the
imminent arrival a second spate of passion, she thought
that it was too soon for her. This momentary
disappointment proved to be false. He raised his hips
from the bed as he went off and this last extreme
penetration by his jerking shaft, to the core of her
being it seemed, brought her to a turbulent climax. She
heard herself squeal in gratification as her eyes
bulged and her nipples throbbed and her somewhat flabby
belly quivered and jumped. So that's what Yvonne and
her like enjoyed two or three times a day, she thought
when the exquisite sensations died away. Monsieur
Nicolas rewarded her generously again adding on the
cost of her dress which had, as Cecile pointed out,
been ruined by his cum.
This somewhat bizarre liaison between Nicolas and
Cecile continued for only three more days. The routine
was not changed. He was there naked and in bed by the
time she arrived. She covered his closed eyes with
perfumed lingerie and teased him with silk stockings on
his skin until he discharged for the first time, then
prepared herself and mounted him to give him - and
herself - a great felicity. After that she became the
attentive servant again, properly dressed and polite as
she washed and dried his satisfied part. And each time,
before she departed, Nicolas made her a handsome
present of money.
On what proved to be their final meeting matters
proceeded differently. The customary sigh of pleasure
was absent when she covered his face with a pair of
lilac silk camiknickers and sprayed on the perfume. He
said nothing and did nothing. There was a tiny frown on
Cecile's face as she drew down the bed covers to expose
his naked body. He was aroused, that was a good point,
she thought. Yet he seemed to be ill at ease. No longer
was he allowing himself to be enchanted by the illusion
of Yvonne's presence.
His first gratification was unusually slow to arrive,
however long Cecile trailed the edges of soft underwear
over the skin of his belly and along his rigid part -
not even when she made it sway from side to side by
flicking at it with a pair of cyclamen red knickers.
His continued silence was a further indication, which
she could not fail to understand - his mood of the past
few days was changing. All the same, there was a
service to be performed if she hoped to benefit again
financially from his gratitude. Eventually, to
facilitate matters, she drew a silk stocking over his
cock to encase it and his balls fully, then took it
boldly in her hand and stroked up and down in a fast
rhythm.
That had the intended effect, to be sure! He gasped and
writhed in pleasure and then squirted his passion into
and through the gossamer web of the stocking. But,
Cecile's watchful eye noted, compared with what she had
seen him do before, his climax of delight was brief.
His body had responded to her stimulation, but his
heart and mind were untouched.
Since he made no comment of any kind but just lay on
his back as before, she prepared herself to complete
the regular performance. There too she encountered a
new problem! By the time she was in position above him
she found that his hitherto unflagging part had become
limp and small. Yes, she thought, we are fast reaching
the end of the little comedy we have played out
together! Even so, the only indication she had of his
desires was that he lay waiting for her to continue.
Now assuredly Cecile did not possess one-tenth of the
skills of her mistress in arousing the passions of a
failing lover.
She did what she could, guided only by her instinct -
rubbing, squeezing and tugging - until at last the
sleeping part was awakened and rose up. In great relief
she inserted it into the portion of herself ordained by
a kindly providence for that purpose. At once she began
to move up and down forcefully, her consideration being
that brisk stimulation seemed to be necessary to retain
the interest she had stirred with much difficulty. It
would be a catastrophe if she permitted this interest
to droop before the final act was accomplished!
Nicolas raised his hand and pulled the lilac silk
underwear from his face and stared her full in the
eyes.
(Of course Nicolas had been fully conscious all along
that what they were doing was all play-acting and he
had gone along with it. He had enjoyed the ritual and
he had been able to convince himself that he was not
merely having sex with a maid of all work. In the
course of it all he had become impressed with Cecile's
devoted attentions to him. Now was the time to
acknowledge reality.)
"But this is ridiculous!' he exclaimed, "I'm doing it
with you, not her."
Cecile said nothing, for there was nothing to say. The
dream was evidently at an end and Nicolas had woken up
from his torpor. His next words surprised her.
"So then, if it's you, it's you - and why not? We'll do
it properly this time, Cecile. Yes I'll take up your
offer Cecile. I'll have you. I'll do you. I'll give you
a good long fuck"
His hands went up to take hold of her breasts and
squeeze them.
"Not a bad pair of tits at all," he commented, speaking
more coarsely than would have been suitable if he had
been with Yvonne, perhaps he thought this was how the
lower orders conducted their sexual affairs!
Cecile shrugged. It wasn't much of a compliment but it
was the only one that had ever been paid to her bosom.
"You've done me a favour or two these last few days",
he said, "now I'm going to do you one. Swing your
backside - let's have some action to warm you up! Come
on grip my cock tight in your cunt" He enjoyed using
these words, these coarse schoolboy words so alien to
his past relationships.
It was true that he was hard inside her and for any man
that meant that he would want to complete the process
that had been commenced. So much was obvious to Cecile,
but beyond that she wondered what she had stirred up in
him. This was a new Nicolas she was seeing was fully
vigorous, demanding - one might even say dominating.
She obeyed his instructions and moved her hips to and
fro hard, becoming more and more aware of the fleshy
protuberance on which she was impaled - and of the
pleasant sensations it was giving her. Nicolas's hands
were at her pear shaped bouncing breasts fondling and
stroking and tugging at her nipples to intensify her
passion. He left her breasts and opened the lips of her
cunt with the fingers of one hand whilst with the
fingers of the other he manipulated her clitoris which
swelled up and twitched in appreciation. Her juices
were so copious his prick moved with perfect ease up
there inside her. Before long, Cecile was out of
control. She moved fiercely, her whole being straining
towards the point of rapture, which she felt was very
close.
"That's good" Nicolas urged her on. "Faster! I want to
see it happen to you."
He moved one hand back and gripped her right breast
hard; he tightness of his grip was almost painful,
except that even pain was a pleasure to her at that
moment. She thumped down on him another six or seven
times and his wish was fulfilled - he saw it happen to
her. Her head went back until her face was directed
towards the ceiling, the muscles of her belly clenched
like a fist and from her wide open mouth there came a
long throaty groan of pure ecstasy.
"More!" Nicolas commanded her, jerking himself sharply
upwards into her.
Without question she had never in her life so far
experienced a sensation like it. It was in a totally
different category from the pleasure other men had
given her and it took some time for the tremors in her
body to cease. Her head fell forward and she was
looking into Nicolas's face and there she saw a smile
of triumph.
"Good enough for a start," he said to her. "Now I'm
really going to show you what it's like."
"Oh; Monsieur Nicolas! I'm as limp as a rag already."
His hands left her breast and her quim and took her by
the hips. An agile twist of his body reversed their
positions, so that she was underneath him, her thighs
outside his legs and his hard belly pressed flat to her
soft one - and this he accomplished without losing his
place in her warm, wet, clinging cunt.
She thought that he would attack her as if with a
battering ram and had no relish for it. Here again he
surprised her. This time he felt her breasts tenderly
and stroked them softly, the fingers moving over them
feather light, just brushing the taut nipples. Mmmmmm
ohhhhhh" she moaned. "Did I treat them roughly? Are
they bruised? Let me kiss the hurt away" and his lips
were soft on her flesh.
"It felt nice, whatever you did but aaahhhhhhh that
feels nicer ohhhhhhh.
`You must understand, Cecile, the moods of love change
quickly. After the wild pleasure you have just
experienced you need a different sort of approach.'
"Oh, yes, oh, yes" she moaned and sighed a slave under
his gentle hands.
"Oh, yes do anything you wish Monsieur Nicolas ahhhhhh
it's paradise"
He moved inside her with long and slow strokes to give
her a little time to recover from her recent exertions,
but not too much for her to go cold. She appreciated
the tenderness he was showing her, though in her heart
she did not believe that it would do anything for her.
In this she was judging from her own limited
experience, in which the few men she had been with and
especially the swinish Dugard. Nicolas had been taught
the ways of love by a succession of beautiful women,
young and not so young who knew how to savor love to
the very last drop - women like Yvonne who expected a
lover to be able to entertain them in bed for several
hours at a time.
It was not until sighs of pleasure from Cecile
indicated that she was responding correctly to what he
was doing that Nicolas changed his pace from a gentle
canter to a brisk trot.
That Nicolas, an average selfish man, devoted all this
attention to the sensual gratification of a maid of all
work was an indication of his unusual frame of mind at
that time. As she lay on her back naked except for her
legs encased in cheap black stockings with his
conception of feminine beauty he could not find her
attractive. Her face was broad, her eyebrows unplucked,
her hair seemed dull and not too clean and was
scrunched up in that appalling bun and her complexion
uncared for. All this he had seen for himself when he
had removed the blindfold from his face and stared at
her. Her breasts had not that springy firmness nor
perfection of shape which even those of the fuller-
figured Yvonne possessed; they were slack and pendulous
and she had no discernible waist.
Worst of all, the unkempt bush of brown hair that grew
from her groins halfway up her belly demonstrated that
she was devoid of the slightest idea of how to make
herself attractive to a lover. He was used to the neat
triangles of his pampered lovers which were kept neatly
trimmed, perhaps dyed also, or even to shaven hairless
mounds which made the lips of their treasures appear
more prominent! (From all this it can be seen that
Nicolas was the perfect bourgeois snob without the
slightest knowledge of the daily lives and desperate
struggles of great mass of the people; nor did her care
to know).
Truth to say, Nicolas did not understand his own
motives in making love to her as if she were the most
desirable woman in the whole of Paris. He was obeying
the promptings of his own heart and it was not
necessary that he should understand them. What he was
doing made him feel good, that was what mattered. Not
just physically good that was the result of the
exciting friction of joined sexual parts - but good in
his heart.
"Oh my God!" Cecile moaned, "It's incredible!" "Ah, but
it gets better still," Nicolas gasped.
And it did just as he promised, until she was reduced
to a body quivering uncontrollably at the spasms of
pleasure that shook her. But there is a limit to the
intensity of pleasure a man or a woman can sustain. Of
this Nicolas was well aware, and in good time his
measured trot became a gallop. The bed on which they
lay was creaking with their efforts. His belly smacked
against hers again and again and by now Cecile was
thrusting upwards simultaneously with Nicolas to plunge
him to the limit each time.
When the moment came she screamed in delight and
Nicolas cried out aloud with her as the surge of his
passion flung them both into ecstatic release. For
Cecile it was as it she were watching a Fourteenth of
July fireworks display - the whole night sky ablaze
with exploding rockets, blinding white star-shells and
coloured rains of fire.
For Nicolas it was his ticket to freedom from Yvonne
and he reveled in the relief of it, his movements
extending Cecile's pleasure beyond anything she thought
possible. He was still pumping away at her, though more
slowly, long after she was lying limp and almost
unconscious beneath him.
On this occasion it was she who wanted to doze for a
while. Nicolas was too exhilarated to think of sleep -
he wanted to go out into the street and see people and
visit friends and reactivate his life. He almost sprang
from the bed, showered and made his preparations then
he roused Cecile by shaking her shoulder gently. She
opened her eyes and saw that he was fully dressed and
ready to go out. A moment later she remembered that she
was lying naked on her back and she closed her legs and
put a hand modestly over her bushy mound - though what
modesty signifies after what had taken place between
the two of them, who can say? Nicolas smiled briefly,
at her reaction.
"Cecile,' he said, "I am going out now to make certain
arrangements. Take your time and leave when you are
ready. Please call round tomorrow around noon when I
shall, if all goes well this evening, have certain
instructions for you. "Thank you Monsieur Nicolas you
can rely on me"
"Ah dear Cecile if only all women were as reliable as
you" he answered quietly as he left the room.
The next day Cecile arrived at the apartment as
arranged. Nicolas was not only up and dressed but in
the throes of packing clothes into suitcases furiously.
One case had already sprung open, the lock gone from
the strain and had been abandoned to its fate.
"Come in Cecile, come in, as you can see I am packing,
packing to leave this apartment for good."
"So I see Monsieur and making a right pig's ear of it,"
she said, somewhat taken aback.
"For good Cecile. Truth is I can stand the place no
longer so I'm moving out. First I'm off to Nice and the
Riviera for a nice long holiday with my aunt Hortense
and her daughters and after that who knows eh" he
laughed happily.
"Sounds wonderful," said Cecile lamely trying to
recover from the shock. But hadn't she known it
couldn't last, their strange little affair?
"You said you would have instructions for me Monsieur"
she attempted to sound businesslike.
"Ah yes Cecile I would like you to oversee the packing
and removal of my things when the removal men arrive
tomorrow, just keep an eye on them, don't let them do
too much damage, then close the place up and put the
keys in this packet and post them to Monsieur
Broscardin - the address is on the packet - my uncle
who owns this place. Can you do all that?"
"Of course Monsieur am I not always at your service"
and she gave her throaty laugh. He laughed too and
kissed her cheek.
"Just one thing Monsieur what shall I do with Madame
Solangiers stuff?"
"Mmm, well I hear she's gone to America with her
husband for at least six months so I am sure she is not
missing a few frocks and knickers and when she gets
back they'll all be out of fashion anyway."
He laughed again "Tell you what take what you want but
don't take them all just in case" he winked "and what's
left can go with my things, okay? Oh and get rid of
that busted case somehow."
"Certainly Monsieur and thank you Monsieur. Come on
Monsieur give those shirts to me that's no way to fold
them" She spent the next hour packing and re-packing
his things. At four thirty the doorbell rang, it was
his aunt's chauffeur who had come to collect Nicolas
and his luggage and his tennis racquets and his golf
clubs. As the chauffeur went off with the cases Nicolas
drew a large well-filled envelope from his pocket "Here
you are Madame Cecile a little token of my respect" and
he kissed her hand and was gone.
Cecile sat on the bed and wept quietly for a little
while but then she was up and about making a selection
of Yvonne's abandoned finery. She did as promised and
left a few garments but she took all the cosmetics and
perfume. In addition she took a book of pornographic
photographs from the bedside cabinet as a memento of
Nicolas. Could come in handy as a manual of instruction
she thought. She also took three of the big, soft,
white towels from the bathroom. She found that the
leather suitcase with the sprung lock, which was
rubbish to Nicolas now, suited her purpose just fine
and put everything inside, tying it round with a piece
of stout cord. That way it looked like the sort of case
a workingwoman would have. Then she checked the flat
and taking the keys locked the door and set off for
home for the night. Standing in the street she thought,
"Bugger it I'm not struggling on the autobus or the
Metro", so she walked to the end of the street out to a
main road and then hailed a taxi. She felt she
deserved it.
In the foyer of the apartments she ran into Alain
Carvagel. "Goo, goo, goo, good evening Madame Renardier
I hope you, you, you are well" he sort of stammered and
blushed
"Very well Alain and you?"
Ye-ye-ye-es Madame, a litt, a litt, a litt-le tired
after a long day perhaps."
"Ah well Alain perhaps an early night is called for"
And she laughed.
The elevator was not working which was no surprise.
Normally Cecile would have said "Shit" but she just
said "Ah Alain it's the stairs for us."
"Here le-le-le--et me take your ca-ca-ca-ca-se Madame"
"You are a true gentleman Alain."
He blushed again as they started the climb. Outside her
apartment they parted.
"Goodnight Madame"
"Goodnight Alain sweet dreams"
Wet ones probably she thought smiling to herself. Soon
now she would begin his education, she would train him,
as she wanted him to go, hand rear him as it were. She
laughed aloud at the thought.
Inside and alone she did not feel so exuberant. The
drabness of the apartment depressed her and she sighed
as she looked about her. "Never mind Cecile my girl
life must go on" she told herself and having pulled
herself together the first job she did was to take the
envelope of money from her bag and lock it safely away
in the heavy metal trunk in her bedroom. Next she
removed her coat and hat hanging them on a hook behind
the door. Then she went into the tiny kitchen, which
was stale with old cooking smells and the smell of gas.
She lit the stove and heated up her soup and sliced the
bread. Whilst she ate she tried to read a story in a
cheap romance magazine. It was impossible. Other
thoughts were in her head, persistent thoughts.
After clearing up she went into the bathroom and
started to run a bath. The water ran slowly from the
taps into the stained and chipped tub. Leaving it she
collected the case and took it to the bedroom where she
unpacked it and lovingly put the frilly lingerie into
her clothes chest, leaving out a pair of sea-green silk
cami-knickers which she spread on the bed. She removed
her clothes, hanging up the dress but flinging the rest
into a corner. She looked at herself in the old, age-
spotted long mirror, which hung on one wall, twisting
and turning, pushing up her breasts pushing out her
bottom. She regarded the wild and tangled bush at the
base of her belly.
Do something about that. Yes. Must. The she returned to
the bathroom. The tub was about one third full but that
was as much as it would go before the water turned
cold, so she turned off the taps and climbed in. She
soaped herself using a cake of Yvonne's perfumed soap.
Soaped herself carefully, lovingly; her breasts, down
over her belly, her groins, her jou-jou; she sang
softly as she did so. She knew she could not linger
because the water was turning tepid already.
She climbed out and dried herself slowly on one of her
new, thick, white towels luxuriating in the softness of
it. Back in the bedroom she put on the cami-knickers.
They were a fairly good fit a little loose over the
bosom - Yvonne was Junoesque in figure - but not tight
over her stomach. She did not fasten the strip of cloth
that went between the legs. She took the clips from her
hair, let it down and brushed it; her hair which she
always wore pushed up any old way was a lovely reddish
brown. She looked in the mirror again and liked what
she saw. "When I make myself up that will be something"
she said to herself.
"And," she added, "Dugard can go fuck himself with his
fingers in future, I've more than paid the debt in
full."
She put out the main light and climbed into bed turning
on the small bedside lamp. She had intended to look at
the book of photographs but she suddenly felt, not
tired exactly, but dreamy and drifting. She switched
off the lamp and stretched out. Then she found herself
touching her nipples through the clinging silk, ahhhhhh
that was good, they hardened, mmmmmm, a hand moved
down, smoothing the silk over her belly, moved down and
the fingers gently twisted and pulled at the hair of
her mound, moved on and parted her pouting lips. She
was all moist, so moist and soft, a finger rubbed her
bud gently, ohhhhh, yessssssss, gently. It stirred, it
stiffened, and it throbbed. Her yearning clitoris.
It was, it was so, so, ahhhhhhh, so, yesss, yesssss, it
was so lovely, so nice, so... And the gentle caressing
continued on nipples on clitoris as the feeling grew
and it was, yesss it was, oh yes it was going to, going
to, Oh Nicolas, Nicolas, my love, yes do me, do me, I
want you to always, ohhhhhhh, OH, YES and then it came
a feeling indescribable, Far better than any she had
experienced before in her lone lovemaking, it flooded
her, she was a white flame that danced wildly, she
twitched, quivered, trembled, convulsed, her legs were
drawn up and straightened again in spasms and spasms
and spasms. And Nicolas was there, his hands, his
mouth. AHHHH. Slowly, slowly, it receded, she sank
down, and she slept.
On the other side of the thin wall Alain Carvagel
wearing a woman's silk chemise lay on his bed, which he
had pushed up against the wall to be close to Madame
Cecile. With the fingers of one hand he caressed his
nipples through the silk. The other gripped his stiff
prick. He heard her soft cries, her moans becoming
louder, then a wild shout. He gripped his swollen rod
harder, he pulled the foreskin right back, he
shuddered, he came, he shot off a great warm jet into a
pair of his dead mothers lacy knickers...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sun, not thinking about adult situations.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Kristen's collection - Directory 12