French Connections Ch. 02bydeliciousthoughts©
This story is based on lesbian seduction, reluctance, coercion and blackmail. It is fantasy, for the enjoyment of people who like me take pleasure in such themes. But if this type of storyline is not for you, thank you for stopping by but please pass on.
ADRIANNA RETURNS HOME
"Welcome back, Mrs. DuPont."
Madeleine turned towards me as I entered the house. Her sultry French gaze sent my pulse racing. I'd thought of her on a number of occasions during my Dubai visit.
The fashion show for the Kyoto Corporation had required a great deal of hard work but the rare moments of free time had given me the opportunity to re-evaluate my life and everything that had occurred since I'd married Pierre.
It was less than a month since Pierre had taken me to his Deauville mansion—our new home—as his new bride. I'd been on top of the world then, but what young woman wouldn't be turned on by living in an expensive a French mansion? Even for someone like me, arguably just a small step away from Supermodel status, it was the most romantic home I could ever have imagined.
It was that second morning—the one after Pierre and I had fucked in our four-poster bed—that my life had started to turn upside down.
I'd wandered out onto the balcony and surreptitiously watched his daughter as she'd gone down on her black teenage friend Sherrilyn beside their outdoor swimming pool. I'd subsequently allowed Sherrilyn to draw me into her games and had discovered a craving for black pussy that had lain dormant for so long.
And I'd let Françoise take compromising photographs while I'd lain between Sherrilyn's thighs that would ruin both my career and my marriage should they be made public.
The pièce de résistance was the way I'd given in to the blackmail threat and allowed Madeleine, my husband's full figured black housekeeper, to use me whenever she'd wanted. When Pierre was in the house, she was the perfect housekeeper. There wasn't even the hint of eye contact. Nothing seemed out of place.
When he wasn't at home, she'd change from calling me 'Mrs. DuPont' to 'Adrianna'. She'd lead me to her room and I'd follow, pulse racing.
The only saving grace was that the curly haired Sherrilyn hadn't—yet?—instructed me to visit her at her college. She had told me that she wanted me to 'meet' her Black Sorority friends. I shivered at the thought of what would be expected of me.
I wasn't an innocent by any stretch of the imagination and although I'd never 'participated' with the other girls in my career as an international model, I'd been tempted on various occasions. It was ironic that I'd denied all my natural instincts for so long... and yet so quickly submitted to the advances of an eighteen year-old black girl during the week following my wedding.
"Thank you Madeleine," I nervously answered, as she closed the door behind me.
She took the two travelling cases from me and placed them at the foot of the stairs. I couldn't help but admire her ass as she bent forward but made sure my gaze was fixed elsewhere when she turned towards me.
"Your husband is upstairs in the study," she quietly said. That look was in her eyes.
"Ah... yes... good. I've been looking forward to catching up with him."
"He's involved in a conference call, Mrs. DuPont. I believe it's scheduled to last for another thirty minutes."
As if to reinforce her meaning, her gaze slowly ran across my body. The strong spicy aroma of her perfume brought back feelings that I was trying to deny. I'd convinced myself in Dubai that things were going to be different when I returned home. The reality was that I had no choice. Not if I wanted to keep my marriage and career. But when she turned away and walked along the corridor towards the servant's quarters, I found myself instantly walking along behind her.
"Lock the door behind you," she instructed me as I followed her into her bedroom.
The words were unnecessary. The practice was well versed. What was different was that we'd never previously risked an encounter when Pierre was in the house. What if his conference call finished earlier than planned? Madeleine must be feeling the need to make such a move and despite myself that thought transmitted itself to my sex.
I pushed the door closed and reached behind me to click the small lock. I'd done it so many times I could find it in my sleep.
"Welcome back, Adrianna."
She began to unbutton her uniform as she spoke. I knew exactly what to expect and my heart began to pump as my anticipation heightened. She was naked underneath, save for the black strappy attached to her waist. I licked my lips.
"Well?" she asked, taking the long phallus in one hand and stroking her fingers along the black shaft.
Her arched eyebrows told me she was waiting.
I nervously stared at the black phallus as I unzipped my dress. I was so wet that I wouldn't need any help to take it inside. With a shimmy, the dress fell to my ankles. My right bra strap fell from my shoulder and I momentarily left it there while I thrust my breasts towards Madeleine. The glint of my diamond belly button stud shot across the room.
"For a respectable married woman you can be such a tease, did you know that..."
The words filled me with shame.
Her eyes swept approvingly across my body, taking in my cleavage as it spilt over the black bra and then dropping to the delicious skimpiness of my plunging black thong. I'd worn them specifically with Madeleine in mind. Had I expected this?
"Now the rest..."
I unhooked the front fastener, allowing my full breasts to bounce free. When she licked her lips, my nipples hardened. I eased my thumbs into the waistband of the thong, loving the way her gaze followed each movement. I pulled them over the gentle curve of my hips and down over my thighs.
"You can choose the position," she murmured, spitting on her hand and rubbing the saliva along the black phallus. "We don't have long, do we?"
I lay back on the bed, grunting incoherently as Madeleine thrust the thick phallus inside me. God, I'd so missed this.
As much as I preferred doggie style, the missionary position allowed me to savour her large black breasts as she fucked me. They bounced with each pump of her full hips and I reached upwards to cup them in my hands as my head fell back onto the pillow.
"That's it, Adrianna," she grunted. "Play with Maddy's boobies..."
She was the most inventive lover I had ever experienced. She was never still—leaning forward to lick around my neck, sitting up so that her large breasts swayed erotically, and then leaning back and thrusting harder. Each shift in position brought a different angle and with it a different friction.
I had climaxed twice already and the sensations in my body confirmed that a third wasn't too far away. We were overrunning, I knew that. If Pierre discovered that I'd returned home he would come looking for me. And my bags were beside the front door.
But Madeleine's desire for me was infectious. She thrust even harder and I began to whimper again.
She bent down so that I could lap at the sweat glistening on her face. When I obeyed, she rewarded me with a series of machine-gun like thrusts. I wrapped my legs around her black back, urging her on.
Her rhythm was so perfect I felt like screaming with joy.
"Another one, Adrianna?" she growled in my ear. "One more for Madeleine..."
I thrust my hips upwards to meet her hard strokes. When she began to lick my neck again the orgasm released itself. As the full force unleashed itself Madeleine covered my mouth with her hand as I began to wail.
DINNER WITH PIERRE
I sat at the dinner table, frustrated by the need still resonating inside my body. Within half an hour of leaving Madeleine's bedroom I had practically thrown Pierre on our bed and stripped him naked. I'd used my oral skills to make him cum before he could fuck me—I was still sore from Maddy—but when dinner was over I would fuck him silly.
While I was in the relative safety of Dubai, I had realised that he was the one constant in my life. I was secure with Pierre beside me. He reconfirmed that it was men that interested me, not women—whatever their colour.
How wrong I'd been.
Madeleine had led me like a lamb to the slaughter and I'd obediently followed. If I was truthful with myself, I would probably have submitted without the blackmail threat. I was captivated by black women.
"More coffee, Mrs. DuPont?"
I glanced up at her as she stood between Pierre and I. Her face was impassive.
"Thank you Madeleine."
She filled Pierre's cup after mine and then left the room. I shivered as I watched her go. Her ass swung from side to side in that way that only a black woman can. That always got to me and she knew it.
"So," Pierre said, continuing our conversation. "It's really true?"
I placed my hand on his. He always delighted in my success.
"It is, darling. The corporation want to use Tina, Roxanne and I as the faces of their marketing campaign. That will mean another trip to Dubai and a tour of Japan."
"It's wonderful, darling, really wonderful. I've always said you're the best of all the models and this proves it."
I smiled at his enthusiasm. Tina Baxter and Roxanne Gold had been in the Supermodel bracket for a couple of years. My coup was being chosen to help front the campaign ahead of several other Supermodels. I was in the big-time now.
"Try and time the trips with my Geneva visits," he quipped.
His political career required frequent visits to the Swiss city and it was proving more and more difficult to combine our respective work commitments.
"Oh, absolutely," I laughed. "I've already told them I can only do shows when it fits in with your absences. They're fine with that."
He laughed with me, but his next sentence gripped my insides.
"Françoise sends her love by the way."
I kept the smile on my face.
"Yes? That's nice. When did you speak to her?"
"Last night. We had a long chat. What's this about you going down to visit her this weekend, by the way? You didn't mention that."
He glanced at me as I gave a sudden intake of breath.
"Yes. She said you were staying for a couple of nights. She's going to call you tomorrow to finalise details."
It seemed inconceivable that he couldn't hear the beating of my heart. The sound seemed to fill the room, as well as my head. Thoughts of what would be expected of me began to fill my brain but even as a shiver of anticipation ran across the whole of my body, I knew I couldn't go through with this.
"I... I... I'm not sure I can go, Pierre. It wouldn't be fair on you, with me already having been away for the best part of a week..."
He laughed out loud.
"Françoise thought you might be too busy but I told her not to worry. And anyway, she said not to forget about the photographs."
My blood ran cold.
"That's what I asked. She said she had some from one of your more successful shoots and that you wanted them back. She said if you really couldn't join them, she could always post them to us. Which are they?"
Post them to us? The message was clear.
"I'd forgotten," I simply said. "Look, I'll check things out tomorrow after I talk to Françoise. You don't mind me going?"
"Not at all. On one condition that is..."
I glanced at him, searching his eyes for any hint that suggested Françoise had told him more. But they simple shone back at me in that endearing way of his. He really was a darling.
"That we go upstairs now," he said with that knowing grin. "You've been away too long and I have a feeling this is going to be a long night."
Pierre was right. It had been a long night. And still I needed more. It was as if I needed to reaffirm my love for him. To confirm to myself it was my husband I wanted, not Madeleine, Sherrilyn, or any of her friends. And yet throughout our lovemaking I couldn't rid myself of the sinful thoughts of what was awaiting me at the weekend.
I threw my head back and looked at the Pierre as he thrust inside me, trying to focus on the here and now. He was panting hard and sweat was dripping from his forehead onto my breasts.
I reached up to clasp my hands behind his neck and ran my fingers softly through his salt and peppery hair. He was deep inside me, but not as deep as Madeleine had been. I closed my eyes at that wicked thought and wrapped my feet around his back. When I dug my heels into the top of his ass, he sank a little deeper.
"That's it baby, that's it. Fuck me, Pierre..."
More sweat dropped from his forehead as he burrowed his head down against my shoulder. From the way he was grunting, I knew he wasn't going to last much longer. That wasn't good enough. I needed his cock inside me to chase all other thoughts away.
"Want me on top, Pierre," I gasped, as I pushed back the strand of dark hair from across my left eye.
I slipped out from under his sweat-coated body even before he could grunt out a reply.
My dangling belly piercing caught the dim light as I crawled from under him and across his body and breasts danced as I settled myself. Yet even as I took his thick girth in my hand and prepared to slide it home, another of those depraved thought came into my mind.
Reacting to my instinct, I jerked my body upwards. My silky wetness made a damp trail across his stomach and chest before I settled my thighs either side of his face, and then clamped them around his head. When stretched his neck upwards and ran his tongue across her clean-shaven sex, I gave a moan and ground my clit down onto his lips.
Close your eyes, I told myself. Close your eyes and think of your husband. Not anyone else.
The instruction worked. I could feel my muscles flex as I rode his face and Pierre's arms curled under my thighs, groping at the taut swell of my hard ass to hold me steady.
"Like that," I encouraged, with a hissed grunt. "Just like that..."
I leant backwards, resting one arm on the bed as the other circled his erection behind me. He was still hard in my hand and I jerked him in time with my undulations.
Suddenly, an image of Sherrilyn came into my mind—naked, with my face between her thighs—and from nowhere an orgasm sprinted through my body, my sex drowning his mouth and nostrils in liquid.
Fuck! Where did that come from?
I didn't wait for my body to recover. My needs had suddenly changed and I wanted his orgasm, too. I swiftly moved back down his body, pressing my hard nipples into his sweaty chest.
"Come on, Pierre," I whispered, jerking down on his hardness. "It's time."
My rapid thrusts—pumping downwards like a machine—were too much for him. I saw his face contort a split second before I felt his thick seed splashing my insides.
"Not exactly what you're used to," Françoise said. "But it's actually a little larger than the rooms the students have here."
She had met me from the train and had immediately begun chattering away about this and that, but without making any reference to the reason I had been asked—instructed—to go to see them. She had acted so naturally that it would have been easy to think this was just a normal visit between step-mother and step-daughter.
But it wasn't...
"It's fine," I said, staring around the room.
She had taken me to the guest accommodation in the heart of the College. Dusk was falling, casting a dull glow on the vast expanse of golden sand I could see out of the window. Maybe I could explore it in the morning? A girl's College on the edge of a beach seemed like the perfect location to me.
"No-one else is staying this weekend," she told me.
For the first time since she had met me at the station, her expression changed. Was that a sly smile across her face?
"So you don't need to worry about being disturbed by anyone unexpected. Sherrilyn planned it that way."
For a brief moment I felt like challenging her. That would have wiped that knowing expression off her face. Or would it? Each time I met my step-daughter, I had learnt something new about her. It only emphasised that I didn't really know her at all.
Would Sherrilyn really make public the photographs of me going down on her? Even though I wasn't sure she would carry through on that threat, I couldn't afford to take any chances.
My marriage and my career were at stake.
At that point the door opened and Sherrilyn entered. The timing was such that it made me wonder if she had been outside the door all this time, listening to our conversation.
But rational thought wasn't easy with Sherrilyn around. With that curly black hair and teenage smile she looked the picture of innocence. She was anything but. Those penetrating black eyes were already scanning my expression, seeking out clues, sending subliminal messages.
She wore a yellow t-shirt and a short black skirt. The t-shirt was tight enough to show she wasn't wearing her bra. Images of the first time I'd seen her crossed my mind. Those naked black breasts—surmounted on their crests with chocolate, almost perfectly circular nipples—defied gravity as they had thrust proudly from her young body.
Her nipples were erect right now, seeking out my attention as they pushed through the thin material of her yellow top.
"Welcome," she simply said. "You'll have told yourself that you had no choice other than to come but you and I both know different, Adrianna. We both know why you're here, don't we?"
So there it was. No niceties. She was calling my bluff, establishing the ground rules, making sure I knew my place. This was her territory...
"As soon as they heard who you were," she continued, "All the girls wanted to meet you. When I showed them the photographs, they were practically drooling. But six girls in one weekend ... and black girls can be so demanding..."
She let the statement hang there, allowed the images to form in my mind, seep into my sex. My nipples rose at the thought.
"So I had an even better idea, just to make sure we all get full value. But for now, Adrianna, the need is written all over your face. I can see we need to release some of that sexual tension deep inside..."
I found I was breathing quickly. I had only just arrived. Did she really mean? She swung around to face my step-daughter. Françoise had stayed quietly by the door, listening to the exchange.
"Adrianna needs to show me how much she's missed me," she calmly said. "Why don't you wait in your room and I'll give you a treat later."
Sherrilyn grinned down at me as I licked eagerly across her prominent mound. She looked like chocolate. She tasted like honey.
As soon as Françoise had left the room, she had casually placed herself in the chair by the window. She dragged her yellow t-shirt up above her stunning breasts and pulled her short skirt up to her waist. The message was clear
Just as she'd known, when she discarded her thong and hooked a leg over each arm of the chair, I couldn't resist. I had sunk to my knees without a word and buried my face between her thighs.
"So beautiful, so needy," I heard her murmur.
I had to force myself to hold back, such was the intense arousal pumping through my veins. As I lapped my tongue along the full length of her sex, she reached down to move a few strands of hair from over my face. My eyes rose upwards to find her smiling down at me.
"That's it," she encouraged me. "Keep looking at me with those eyes while you suck me, Adrianna. I want to see that beautiful face."
She raised both hands onto the top of her head as she spoke and comfortably pushed her body back into the chair. Spread-eagled like that—eyes narrowed, breasts displayed, nipples hard, legs wide, pussy glistening—she embodied everything I loved about sex.
My gaze stayed fixed on hers as I dipped my head back to her waiting treasure and ran my tongue across every inch of that smooth sex.