Closing the door, Francois left the bitter cold of the Montreal winter behind him and was embraced by the warm, nearly tropical air of the club. He breathed deeply and every herb that man smoked entered his nose in one solid stream, and he smiled softly as he made his way to the back of the club where he knew she would be waiting for him. He saw her almost instantly as he rounded the corner near the front door, her body was something that sculptors idolized for centuries and he was just as transfixed as they.
She stood roughly around five and a half feet tall, her legs were supple in their femininity and the thighs they connected to were designed to draw the eye of any man, or woman, who had the fortune to cast a glance at them. As you looked up, and you always did, the breasts stood high and firm on her chest, nothing grotesquely large, but enough that Francois always had both hands full when he touched them.
Her neck was slender and stood with a swan’s grace and her cheekbones, high and proud were offset by the deep, pouting lips that adorned the center of her face. Her eyes, sweet brown almonds that cast their gaze into you and reeled you in inch by delicious inch.
Tonight she was dressed in white, from high heels to the pearl necklace about her throat.
No words were ever spoken as he slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her softly from the wall she was leaning against. He pressed his mouth to hers and she opened to him, a soft and wet flick told him that she was more than happy to reciprocate his offer this chilly evening.
Their mouths still locked together, she led him slowly and carefully down a hallway where they always made their rendezvous on evening such as this. An office, or at least it used to be, sat unused at the end of the corridor and they made the best of it.
The door closed behind him and she broke the kiss, placing a finger to his lips to silence his protest as she slowly backed to the table and sat softly upon it, displaying her body for him to admire, to worship.
She ran a hand over her shoulder and caught the strap of the dress there. A thin, spaghetti strap and as she pulled, her breasts in all their splendor spilled from the dress like ambrosia to the people of the world. The deep tan only served to arouse Francois more, the brown aureola hardening as his glance swept over her time and time again.
He stepped forward softly, her dress now around her ankles, her gorgeous perfection was flaunted for all to see. Her hips flared outward and her hourglass figure was presented to him, and he decided that he had allowed her to put herself on display for long enough for a single evening.
He placed his hands softly on her breasts and caressed them with a fierce passion. His fingers found her hardened nipples and pulled them ever so slightly, eliciting a gasp from her as he did.
His hands were soon replaced by his lips and his tongue flicked over the swollen pebbles of flesh, his lips gently moved over the skin of her breast, and he tasted all of her with his hungry mouth.
His arms wrapped about her waist and pulled her closer to him, the palms of his hands running over the super fine and smooth skin of her lower back, his hands moving lower still and cupping her supple buttocks in his hands as he lifted her, pulling her to his chest, her legs wrapping around him as his mouth finally moved from her breast and found her mouth again. He explored her mouth with flair and slowly laid her back on the desk, her legs around him as he moved his head to the moist heat of her core.
His nose was assailed by the sweet fragrance of her womanhood and his tongue gently moved to touch the soft pink folds. She shuddered at his touch and it was the catalyst he needed for his action. With both hands he pulled her to him and placed his lips and tongue over her mound and furiously tasted all of the sweet nectar that flowed from her. The hard nubbin of flesh at her center was his target and over and over again he attacked it with his tongue.
Her hands pulled at his hair, both pulling him in and trying to push him away with both hands at once. Her screams, muffled somewhat, echoed across the stone walls of the office as he dug into her with a gusto, his mouth making noises that made her shudder.
As he felt her tighten, her muscles like iron around his face and neck, he delved deeper into her core and drank deep from the spilling cup of her womanhood. The juices ran down his throat in a torrent as her thighs threatened to squeeze all sense from his mind.
And then, as if there were a switch, her muscles relaxed and went slack, her breathing and his, loud and bestial filled the room as the passion of the moment filled the air.
***About the Author***
James is a 28 year old husband and father of two living in a sometimes overly-French town near Montreal, Quebec. He loves to write erotica and has been doing it for quite some time now. He is a poet and an artistic designer as well, although the latter is more of a hobby than anything else. He runs a website that is devoted to the wonder of women who are considered outside of the social norm, the Big Beautiful Woman.