Monday, 29 October 2012

An Antidote To Writers Block (Part 30) A Breath Of French Air (Day Three)

It was about 8 o’clock when I woke up on Tuesday morning. Claire was still wearing the black stockings from the night before and furthermore she still looked hot.
But she was still sleeping and I was feeling a bit fragile from the previous night’s excesses and my cock had slept in later than I had so I contented myself with ogling her briefly before I pulled the cover up over us.
It was an hour later the next time I woke and Claire was hugging me and one-eyed Pete had finally roused.
But when I moved my head on the pillow a pain filled it like it had been hit with a shovel.
So Pete went back to sleep and Claire had also consumed too much Champagne for early morning nookie.
So I gingerly lifted my head off the pillow and walked to the bathroom to take some Anadin I then took a glass of water and two tablets to Claire.
On the way back to the bathroom for a pee I flicked the kettle on and after a satisfying cupper the pills had done their job and we both felt well enough and indeed sufficiently human for breakfast, which we ordered from room service and decadently ate it in bed.

By the time we had finished our repast it was approaching 10.30am and we had to vacate the room by noon so Claire took herself off into the shower while I contemplated recent events.

Our French trip had certainly provided plenty of saucy material for the continuing series of mucky books.
It had been a really enjoyable three days and not necessarily for the reasons you might think.
It had been something of a rollercoaster; there were moments when I desperately missed Georgia and others when I would have happily stayed with Claire forever.
The sex was extra special but was that because of the new found “feeling?”
Was the enhanced satisfaction due to the romantic element?
I was very fond of Claire but it could never become more than that.
And probably part of the attraction was the naughtiness factor, the sneaking around, the guilty pleasure.
I had missed Georgia even though I had almost fallen for Claire.
Regardless of that I would have to get my self to Roehampton and reacquaint myself with Georgie’s tender loins.
Just then Claire emerged from the bathroom wearing a toweling dressing gown and stared at my flaccid cock with, what I took to be, a look of disappointment on her face.
Myself and limpy Pete headed for the bathroom and decided on a soak in the bath rather than a shower.
As I soaked my weariness away I could hear Claire drying her hair and when that stopped I became curious to know what she was doing.
I discovered that if I craned my neck I could see the reflection in the mirror of her sitting on the bed applying her lotions and potions and Pete twitched.
When I had finished in the bath I dried myself off and then shaved, cleaned my teeth and applied my own fragrances.
I walked towards the bed and found Claire lying on the bed all dry, perfumed and powdered, the toweling dressing gown tantalizingly open to reveal subtle hints of the delights beneath and my awakening continued.
“I’m…” I started to say but she put a finger up to her lips gesturing me to silence and I noticed she was on the phone.
From the content of the conversation I deduced it to be Olivia, the practice manager, who referred to my writing efforts as mucky books; it still rankled with me even though she was perfectly correct.
Claire was discussing some clinical cases, test results etcetera
I walked around the bed examining her from every angle and then climbed on the bed next to her.
We were topped and tailed on the bed so I had already decided my next course of action.
By the time I had arrived along side her, the conversational topic had moved on to chatting about how much she was enjoying Paris and how well her contribution to the symposium went.
Laying on my side propped up on one elbow in the Roman style I began stroking her silky smooth leg with my spare hand.
Claire didn’t flinch as I leant forward and kissed the fragrant skin around her knee.
My little friend who had been conspicuous by his absence all morning was now bulging beneath my towel.
My lips progressed along her thigh but her voice didn’t falter as I breathed in the fresh scent of coconut oil on her skin,
My lips kissed further and again her voice was unfaltering but her hand had progressed slowly inside the folds of my towel and was absent-mindedly fondling my cock.
Her conversation continued in the same vein as her robe fell open at the waist exposing the length of her thigh up to her hip, I wasted no time in closing the distance and as my lips kissed her hip bone I could detect the faintest fragrance of apple and for the first time her conversational train of thought was broken as she began roughly stroking my shaft.
“Olivia I have to go,” she said as my nose divined the source of the apple scent infused upon her pubic hairs and her thighs parted.
Her skin smelled of coconut her pubic hair of apples and her pussy of lust.
“Call me later…” she continued as my towel fell open
Claire dropped the phone and tightened her grip on my shaft and began gently tugging harder on my cock.
“Something’s come up” she said to herself
I let out a gasp and she released a long soft moaning sigh as my tongue parted her lips before her mouth engulfed my purple bell end.
Then without disengaging her mouth from my swollen member
in one fluid motion rolled on top of me and presented her hot pink pussy to me in all its glory and I relished the consumption of the savory flesh and as I nibbled and sucked her labia.
Claire paused her oral ministrations only to let out a moan and gasp and while her pussy let out a whispering fanny fart.
Then when Claire brought me to the brink of tipping my barrow and she trembled and shuddered, I knew it was time to leave her
fragrant farting fanny.
I quickly slid from under the delicious doctor and positioned my self behind her with my hands on her hips.
Claire sat back on her haunches and let the dressing gown fall from her shoulders.
She was watching me in the mirror and she was biting her lip as she leant forward and pushed her hips backwards and as she did so she slid her tight hot pussy along my shaft, moaning softly all the way, then with each penetration she extracted from me, her liquid lips slid from my swollen tip to the throbbing root of my cock and greased my balls.
With a look of immense concentration Claire was watching my reflection intently as she performed her dance.
But when her head flopped forward I reached forward and cupped her hanging breasts and knew I had to take her across the finish line.
We were both watching our performance in the mirror when I had taken control, her back was arched and her head thrashing back and fourth, swishing her hair like a whirling dervish.
Then all of a sudden the bedroom door opened with a clatter and when we looked in that direction we discovered it was the maid backing into the room
“Don’t stop” Claire said in a panting cry “for god sake don’t stop”
At that moment the maid became aware of our presence.
“Pardon monsieur, pardon madam” she loudly exclaimed and bustled out the room as clumsily as she had entered.
Claire was not to be deterred by a domestique and was now becoming more vociferous as we near the precipice.
I was firmly gripping her hips now, holding on like a jockey trying to hold back a galloping horse but Claire kept racing on and on until she threw back her head and screamed as we came together exploding in utter ecstasy.
And then dripping with sweat and panting like beasts we fell sideways still joined together.

As we left the room we saw the clumsy maid in the hall
“This could be embarrassing,” I said
“Au revoir” Claire said loudly as we passed her.
The maid went crimson red and looked away muttering to herself.
Claire told me later that a colleague once told her that if you didn’t want someone to look at you, you should address them first.
I don’t know why we were concerned because by our own very low standards we had been model guests in Paris we had behaved much more shamefully in London, Bristol, Birmingham ad infinitum.
We checked out and for once walked across the lobby with heads held high, a feeling totally alien to the pair of us.
Not for the first time on this trip, as we left the hotel and got in the waiting cab I found myself thinking here we go again.
As not for the first time on this trip I found myself referring to Claire and I as “us”.
We didn’t go to the “Gare du Nord”; our train didn’t depart until 4.30pm so we had plenty of time to stop at the lingerie store so Claire could exchange her inadequate bras.
I sat outside a café drinking coffee and guarding the bags while Claire went into the store.
She was taking no chances this time and was going to try them all on in the shop.
I offered to come in with her to help her tuck her puppies in but she declined my offer saying, “I wouldn’t be helping her, I would be helping myself”
“The cheek of some people” I thought as I stared at both of hers shimmying inside her jeans.

When she returned a little short of an hour later she was looking almost as pleased with herself as she did when she walked knickerless through the hotel restaurant.
“You look very pleased with yourself, have you gone commando again?” I asked unhelpfully
“No” she said indignantly and sat down at the table next to me
I caught the waiters eye and ordered two coffees
“Did you change your bras?”
“Yes” she said “and I bought some treats”
“What kind of treats?” I asked intrigued
“Fishnet tights, for one thing” she replied “for next time”

Once on the train I was relieved to find the carriage was far too busy for any shenanigans, I was completely shagged out.
I was surprised that even the train’s rhythmic motion hadn’t stirred sleeping Pete, who was obviously shagged out as well.
I looked at Claire’s lovely face, as she sat beside me, and I thought it quite possible that she might be falling in love with me, but I decided she was not and I knew I could easily fall in love with her but I decided that I wouldn’t because our hearts were elsewhere.
Georgia was already unhappy with me banging other women and had warned me to curb my excesses.
So I’m certain sure she would go bat shit if she thought I was romantically involved with someone.

We said goodbye at Kings Cross, by the gate for the Basingstoke train.
“Thanks Simon” she said “for making it such an enjoyable time”
“My pleasure” I responded
“And mine” Claire said blushing
Then a moment later she continued
“I probably enjoyed it a little more than I should have I think”
I knew that she wasn’t referring to the over indulgence or even the sex.
“Me too” I said

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