Message-ID: <44321asstr$1063699803@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <20030916003900.25948.qmail@web20506.mail.yahoo.com> From: Liliwriter X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 15 Sep 2003 17:39:00 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} Parisian Encounter (MF) Date: Tue, 16 Sep 2003 04:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw This is my first post. Criticism and/or comments are welcome and very much appreciated. Send comments to liliwriter@yahoo.com If you are easily offended, are underage, or if it's illegal to read this where you live, this is not the story for you. --------------------------------- Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! SiteBuilder - Free, easy-to-use web site design software <1st attachment, "Parisian Encounter.doc" begin> Parisian Encounter By Liliwriter I had found myself in Paris once again. At 23 years old, I'd come back to Paris after visiting several times during my college year abroad. I'd returned to experience the Continent with no scholastic responsibilities and a sense of great freedom. On that September morning, I threw on a pink cotton sundress with thin silky straps at the shoulders. It buttoned to the waist and fit snugly across the top to accentuate my full breasts. At 5'5" with a 128-lb frame, I'm certainly not a waif but have large C-cup breasts, a tapered waist that leads to lush hips and a full, rounded ass. My body is toned but not obviously muscled. I don't have the sexless, boyish body of those women who spend hours at the gym. I have the soft, round curves of a woman who takes care of herself. I modestly added a white cardigan but left it unbuttoned so that just a hint of my breasts was visible. I stuck out among the throngs of black-clad Parisian women but with my long hair cascading down my back, my strappy sandals, and my tight, lace bra rubbing tight against my pink nipples, walking through the streets of Paris I felt as sexy as I ever had. After sating myself with art at the Louvre all morning, I took a bench in the Jardin des Tuileries that afternoon. I divided my time by reading Le Monde and watching les enfants playing among the benches. It was one of those magical moments in life. It was a cool, sunny autumn day, I was sitting in the shadow of the Louvre as my honey-colored hair glistened in the golden Parisian sun, and the world was beautiful. A Frenchman took a seat next to me and made small talk about what I was reading, then asked if I was a student. I told him I was traveling with a friend from college and that I'd graduated a few years earlier. My friend wasn't feeling well and that morning I left her at the hotel while I set out to explore the city. As a young woman in Europe, I was certainly used to being approached by numerous men, and rebuffed most of them. But this man had kind eyes and an easy laugh, so we talked. Jean-Pierre was 28, medium height, with a quiet demeanor. He wore jeans, a simple button down shirt with a black leather coat thrown over it, and he was attractive enough - wavy, jet black hair, dark lashes, and deep blue eyes that twinkled. He wasn't what you would consider handsome, but he was sexy. Men can be incredibly sexy without being terribly attractive. We spoke in a mixture of French and English. During our conversation he caressed my breasts with his gaze, and moved in close whenever I spoke in broken French, as if studying my lips and hanging on each word. My eyes wandered to his hands - large, perfect, masculine hands. I jumped at the offer when he suggested we go to a cafe. We walked 10 minutes past the Place de la Concorde onto a side street and took a seat in a small Italian restaurant. We were the only people there at the odd afternoon hour so the jovial owner gave us all his attention. We had all the pasta and wine we could handle, but aside from some hand-holding and sultry looks, he was a perfect gentleman at dinner. He let me practice my rudimentary French and I stumbled my way through conversations about what I was doing in France, where I was headed, where I had come from. Jean-Pierre wasn't from Paris originally but moved there from a town outside of Lyon, and he didn't have much of a life plan. That was no surprise. Men with no life plan were always attracted to me. Maybe those of us with no life plans just gravitate toward each other. He explained, "I am finished with school and finding good work is not easy. I love France and would never leave, but sometimes it's frustrating. I feel like maybe I have worked for nothing. So I work at a restaurant for now and I don't know where I'll end up." We ended dinner with a coffee and a wink from the owner. After dinner we walked for what seemed like forever through Parisian streets that I could have lost myself in if I hadn't been with him. A patisserie window caught my eye and while we were evaluating the window display, he moved his arm to caress my back and neck. The touch of his hand was soft and immensely comforting. I turned my head to him as he ran his hand up under my cardigan to caress my back and he moved to kiss me. It was a soft, sweet kiss and when we broke I smiled and went inside the shop. We took some cream pastries to a bench near the Pont de l'Alma and in between bites and kisses we watched the tour boats packed with camera-toting tourists. His kisses were passionate and his hands wandered through my hair, caressed my face, and held me tight. I had learned long ago that in Europe, public displays of affection were a way of life, and couples kissed, licked, and practically fucked right out in the open with no shame or modesty. We didn't draw a glance from any passers-by, even when he reached one hand under my cardigan to cup my breast as the other hand massaged my neck. We kissed deeply and I moaned softly as his fingers teased my nipple, his lips trailing down my neck, licking and sucking all the way. I could feel the sweet juices running out of my pussy onto my panties as I fantasized about the thick cock straining under his jeans. Its outline was obvious and I had to stop myself from touching it. As he nibbled my neck, I closed my eyes and dreamed of teasing that cock between my lips, of him running it down my body until he reached my damp mound... I drew back and sighed, knowing where this was heading. Was this going to be a stereotypical European fling? Did I even care? I was young, unattached, in Paris, and this felt wonderful. I didn't want to stop. "Mmm, we can't do this here." I smiled. If we continued it would be a matter of minutes before we were naked. "Why don't we go to my house - it is quiet and we can relax. My apartment is near Saint Michel, it's not too far." He raised his eyebrows at my wide smile. "No, I shouldn't. My friend is waiting for me... we're supposed to go out tonight," I said smiling, hoping he'd coax me some more before I finally gave in. I desperately wanted to go home with him but coyly played the good girl. He returned the smile and said softly, "There's nothing wrong with wanting to be with me. Come on, let's go." He finished his sentence by covering my lips with his, whispering lovely French between soft kisses. The wine from dinner and the flow of the Seine filled my senses and let me abandon all inhibition. Tonight I was going to forget about what was right and wrong and just let go. My friend was probably still sniffling at the hotel. Why would I go back to that when Jean-Pierre was mine for the taking? We stopped at the small grocery he lived above and bought some more wine before heading upstairs. His "apartment" was nothing more than a one-room studio with an old, worn bathroom and creaky floors. A large bed with baby blue and white sheets lay in the corner near a tall lamp. In the corner were a sink and stove that looked older than Louis XIV. His bookcase held tons of interesting looking books in 2 or 3 different languages. He may have had no sense of decor, but at least he was bright. I looked out the small window with a view onto the street and watched pedestrians and some cars go by; the noise was distracting and the air was getting cool. He slipped off my cardigan, kissed my shoulders, poured the wine. I turned on the TV while I searched for the right words. "I can't believe I'm here." I blurted out. He looked hurt as he handed me the glass. "Why, what's wrong? Don't tell me you're nervous. You have nothing to fear." "Well my friend is probably waiting in the hotel for me wondering when we're going to dinner!" I said with a laugh. It broke the tension and he assured me that she wouldn't miss me. "She has probably gone out and is feeling guilty for leaving you in the hotel room, right?" He moved closer and kissed me. There was going to be no more small talk, no more wasting time with come-ons and the other trite techniques of seduction. We both knew why I had come back to his home, to his bed. The wine on his lips and the softness of his tongue were exquisite and I moaned lowly. He pulled me toward him and we moved to sit on the bed. Slowly, with soft hands, he opened the tiny buttons on the bodice of my dress until he found my breasts. He kissed each one before undoing the bra clasp between my breasts and cupping my bare breasts with his hands. I took another sip of wine and held his head with one hand, guiding him to my nipples. Gingerly he licked and nibbled the small hard tips, teasing me, knowing I wanted more. He took the glass from me, and I turned off the garish lamp. The room was lit only by the pre-dusk sky streaming through the window, and the glow of the small TV. My dress was unbuttoned to the waist, nipples hard and wanting to be sucked, and I looked up at him with an innocent smile. We fumbled with his shirt buttons and jeans until he was nearly naked. I kneeled in front of him to pull the boxers down his legs, and gave his half-hard cock a teasing lick. He didn't disappoint, offering my hot tongue another quick lick of his thick, 7-inch rod. My hands moved up his body as I stood. I loved the feeling of every inch of his warm skin yielding beneath my fingers. He wasn't exceptionally muscled, but just fit enough to please me, with strong legs and arms. Not content to be nude by himself, he pulled the dress over my head and threw off my bra, leaving me exposed except for my sandals and white silk panties. He took me in his arms and we kissed intimately and hotly, licking each other's lips and tongues and faces until our bodies were burning. My hands traveled from his hair to his back, down to his hard thighs and back up his flat stomach, purposely avoiding his hardness. His hands landed under my panties and skillfully caressed my ass, then my back as we devoured each other with our mouths. He knew the importance of touching a woman all over her body. How many men rush to pull off their partners panties without caressing her body first. He knew that if you touch a woman's body the right way she will beg you to fuck her. His cock pressed insistently against my belly and I drew my hand down to massage it. I pulled back the foreskin to admire the wide purple head that I desperately wanted to suck. It throbbed in my hand but before I could work on it, he took my hands and gently pushed me down onto the bed. I smiled appreciatively and sunk down into the soft bed, raising my legs to him, knowing he wanted to touch me. His hands ran from my thighs to my ankles, until he reached my feet. He untied my sandals and slipped them off, licking and kissing each toe as I squirmed from the delicate sensations. He then slid my damp panties down my legs and buried his head between my thighs. With an expert tongue he licked my shaved, smooth outer lips before probing between them and rolling his tongue along my engorged inner lips, stopping to gently suck on my sensitive clit, whispering dirty things in French - things I didn't understand but appreciated nonetheless. The cream dripped out of my pussy, covering his face and tongue until the pleasure got more intense and I felt my orgasm building. I felt him insert a finger, then another, into my tight, silky cunt. His fingers gently fucked me as his tongue danced on my clit. I moaned loudly and pinched my hard nipples while enjoying the feel of his soft tongue on me. I finally pleaded with him... "Jean-Pierre, now... maintenant! Je te veux, je veux venir..." I purred. I didn't even know if it was correct French but he understood. He understood that I needed his cock in me, that I needed to cum and wanted him to feel my pussy clench his cock as I came. He opened my thighs wide and with one stroke he pushed that thick, hard cock all the way into me. He moaned as he felt the soft, tight, wet walls of my pussy take in every inch of his throbbing tool. I gasped as he stretched my pussy with deep strokes, bringing the head to my clit every once in a while to tease me. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and ran my nails down his back, lightly scratching him as he dipped in and out of my dripping cunt. His lips devoured my neck, nipples, and covered my hot mouth while whispering nasty things in alternate French and English. I urged him on with naughty words of my own. "Jean-Pierre, make me cum, I want you to feel me cum all over your cock," I whispered to him as he sucked my neck. He immediately quickened his pace, grabbing my ankles and raising my legs high in the air as he pounded me. My hands held onto his ass, coaxing him to fuck me harder and push me over the edge. I couldn't hold back any longer. "Mmm, fuck me! Fuck me hard! Yes! Uhhh yes, make me cum, I'm going to cum!" I screamed with intense gratification as my pussy spasmed with a delicious climax. As my pussy tightened around him and I moaned with my explosive orgasm, he grinned at the sight of me in intense pleasure. My pussy flooded with a gush of hot juice and my body was burning hot. He growled and moaned unintelligible things as he drove in and out of my sensitive, soaked cunt, and closed his eyes tight as if to experience the pleasure more intensely. He urged me to turn over on all fours and took me from behind, driving into me like an animal. I was in another world - I was sensitive from my orgasm and the only thing that filled my head was the exquisite feeling of being expertly fucked. I felt like I was drunk with lust, that my head was swimming and I couldn't control myself. I was sure that the neighbors heard my moans and the fast creaking of the bed, but I didn't care. I didn't know them and they didn't know me. This was all about pleasure, and letting go of every inhibition. "Plus vite, plus vite, plus fort!" I begged. My body violently rocked with his movements, my moans exploding out of me with each of his thrusts. I wanted a fast, hard fucking and he knew it. His hands held my hips as I reached between my legs to caress his balls and finger my clit. His hand slapped my ass hard and my pussy responded with a fresh batch of sweet cream that dripped onto his balls and down my thighs. The slapping sounds of his balls hitting my skin and the feel of his cock drilling into my wet hole made me hotter and wetter than I'd been in months and we were both covered with my cream. He grunted loudly as he neared his climax and hammered against my cervix with hard thrusts. With a long groan he finally released his load inside of me. I felt the familiar rush of hot cum splashing against my insides and sighed in pleasure and exhaustion. He collapsed against my back, breathing hard, and held himself in me long after the last spurt of hot cum had been ejected. When he disengaged I lowered myself onto my stomach, letting our mingled juices drip out of my sweet snatch onto the sheets. He kissed me from behind and held me for a few minutes before turning to nap. My hand wandered to my dripping slit. I was close to cumming but stopped stroking myself. I wanted to wait for the second round, because I was sure he'd be awake soon. I nestled into the warm bed, playing the intense experience over and over in my head. It was dark when I awoke and I retreated to the bathroom to clean myself up. He awoke when closed the bathroom door. He smiled sleepily and beckoned me to come back to bed to lie with him. I gladly complied and snuggled against his warm body. His strong, warm arms enveloped me and held me tight to his hot body. We were lying on our sides, face to face, snuggled closely together, limbs entwined. "Mmmm, Lili, I am so happy you are here. You are happy to be here, oui?" he whispered, half-asleep. Did he want to hear the truth - that I was crazy with desire and wanted to hole up naked in this apartment for a week? Instead I just whispered against his neck "Oui, je suis tres contente," and brought my hand down to play with his limp penis. He turned to lie on his back and encouraged me when I moved my lips from his neck to tease his nipples, then down to his navel and finally to his awakening cock. I gave his thighs wide licks of my tongue and kissed the soft hair around his cock as I took it in my hand and slipped the foreskin back. I could taste myself still on him as I took the head between my hot, thick lips and sucked gently. The saltiness of his cum and my sweet honey mixed to create an intoxicating, arousing blend of tastes that only encouraged me to take his cock deeper. One hand held the base of his cock while my tongue and lips worked along the entire shaft, causing him to gasp and sigh with pleasure. My hand took the place of my mouth and stroked him hard as I licked his balls, taking each one in my mouth alternately and rolling it around my tongue. I sucked and licked each one deliberately before returning to his shaft. With my lips tightly pursed around it, I deep-throated his cock, fucking it with my mouth as he guided the back of my head. The head bounced off the back of my throat, sending shivers through his body, causing his cock to twitch between my lips. I looked up at him seductively as his throbbing cock filled my mouth. I let it slide in and out a few more times until I could see that desperate look in his eyes. He couldn't stop now; he needed to release. I gave the head one more lick and whispered, "Now I'm going to fuck you." I moved my body up to straddle him, caressing his body with my breasts on the way up. He sat up and I lowered myself onto his willing cock. An eager smile spread across his face, as if he were relieved to have the pressure of performance off him. He groaned as my velvet slit enveloped him. I slowly rocked on top of him while he sucked my nipples and held me close, running his hands from my neck to my breasts, massaging my hips, my ass, my legs. The feel of his hands massaging my back while his cock stretched my tight pussy drove me wild and I drenched both of us in my juices. I rode him and squeezed his cock into me tightly with my muscles until I felt my orgasm approaching. I urged him to lie down and kissed his lips before lifting myself off of him. I placed my hands behind me on the bed, leaned back, and moved my legs so they were stretched out in front of me, my feet resting over his shoulders. This new angle put intense pressure on my G-spot and allowed me to fuck him fast and deep. My tits bounced with each thrust and his hands furiously toyed with my pussy lips and clit, which were in plain view. The noise outside the window had quieted down and all I could hear was the wet slapping of our sex and our groans as we rushed toward another orgasm. He exploded before I did, again filling my womb with his sticky cum. As his cock withered and slipped out of me, his fingers found their way inside me and fucked me, his thumb rubbing my clit. I sat up again straddling him, massaging my breasts as my crotch was eagerly grinding into his hand. With a satisfied sigh, I collapsed on top of him when my orgasm took me. Though not as raucous as our previous encounter, it was just as intimate and we held each other quietly for a long time until I broke the silence. "I have to go. My friend will wonder where I am." I didn't want to leave. I wanted to make love to him all night long and lose myself in his body, but my friend would be worried and I didn't want to explain a night away from the hotel to her. He put up a half-hearted protest and relented only after promised to take his phone number and call him the next day. After I dressed, he pulled on a T-shirt and showed me to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said at the door. He stuffed the paper with his phone number into my hand. I smiled at him, left him with a kiss, and ran down his steps, hoping to avoid any of the neighbors who may have overheard us. On the metro ride home, I debated whether or not I should see him again. Why would I call him back? The sex was great, and I was very sexually liberated. Yet something in the back of my mind whispered that I had been a very, very naughty girl. And I didn't want to spend the rest of my time in Paris on my back. Couldn't I just let the night live in my memory as a fun diversion? I climbed the metro steps and started the long walk back to my hotel. I crumpled the paper with his number, threw it on the ground, and shivered as I felt the last drop of his seed trickle from my pussy. liliwriter@yahoo.com <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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