French Lesson Ch. 03

They lay together, squashed in a hammock. She'd found it hidden in the hayloft and secured it, hopefully, between an apple with fruitlets and a recently cropped cherry. Getting in had been a challenge as a lot of tipping and rocking seemed to occur. Lucky it was close to the ground. They'd laughed so much that her eyes watered and they were still chuckling as they lay there.

Eventually, by sitting on it together and opposite, then swinging legs over, they managed it and were now lying facing each other, legs entwined. She was wearing his shirt, over sized on her, more like a mini dress, unbuttoned just enough to let him glimpse the entrancing valley between her breasts. He'd brought a bottle of the rough dry cider with them and they were swigging from the bottle, comfortable in the sun and in each other.

She'd noticed in the last three days that the tightness of his skin had begun to relax, he was more playful, open. The side was leaving him. She enjoyed seeing his skin take on a burnt umber, whilst she stayed as shaded as possible, the curse of the Celt.

How they came to be spending two weeks out of life in a French Manoir together was interesting, had required serendipity and and the nod of a god.

That first meeting ended unsatisfactorily for a variety of reasons

She'd laughed at some of his practised word, not the lines, but the fact that he'd mistakenly thought that would work on her..

She'd left the small bar alone that night.. But unsettled, a niggling of unfinished business and a flicker of opportunity..

She had a fey feeling for the man.

As soon as he'd laid eyes on her, he knew he needed to have her, not because of her looks. They were OK. It was the turn of her head, the way she stared out his look and challenged him. A more visceral emotion, a primitive yearning. A few hundred years ago he would have thrown her to the ground and ravished her then and there. God, he wanted that woman.

But they were together now, briefly, a delicious interval. Two people enjoying what living should be before life interrupts and asks it to cut the grass and take the bins out.

So back to now,

She's rubbing her foot up his thigh, burrowing in the crotch and letting it rest there.

Don't start if you're not prepared to finish.. He warns..

What do you think? I think it's time for a taste test, I want to assess the mouth feel..

He raises an eyebrow....

Lie back and you'll see...

She takes a deep draught from the bottle lifting the bottom in the air, fully aware of the reaction the sight of her swallowing, cold liquid coursing down her throat, is having on his body. She reaches over to pass the cider.

Carefully, so as not to rock the boat, she flips so her head is between his thighs, propped up on elbows. Just so.

With an overly studied attitude, she pushes aside the dressing gown and looks at him. Her face is close to his groin and he can feel the wet warmth of her breath and the heat of her eyes.

She is looking at his unfurling cock coming to life, swelling under her gaze reaching, up to her. A flower stem looking for the sun?

She still looks, appraising from all angles, assessing, sizing up almost.

Something wrong?

Oh no, it's perfect, beautiful, delicious. I'm just planning.

She looks up and stares into his eyes, he sees his cockhead level with her mouth. She holds his gaze and says softly but clearly.

I'm going to take you in my mouth, this is my lesson for today, you must educate me. I need to find out what you enjoy the most. I want to give you pleasure with my lips and my tongue and in doing that I will be satisfied. Today, now, it it all about you. Is that acceptable?

She is serious

Her words explode in his head, he hears them and feels them on his body. His shaft responds delightedly, ramrod hard and throbbing towards her. He puts his legs either side of the hammock, for stability, and the action thrusts his member even further towards her face.

Perfect.

He watches as her quick pink tongue swiftly licks the two pearls that have emerged and at her touch he knows that he is lost in her.

She holds him gently at first, teasing him with quick catlike licks on the tip. Then her lapping gets longer and deeper, a leopardess drinking at a water hole. Her tongue is spiralling up and down the length, sometimes quickly other times slower, concentrating on the underneath and flicking and lapping at his tightening balls.

She looks up at him, smiling, wanton. Shall I carry on?

He nods, smiling too, entranced too by the dipping movement of her chestnut curls against his skin.

Her delicate, soft fingers collect his tumescent end, like the bud of a freesia as she kisses the sides of his shaft, as if kissing firmly his lips. She continues alternating this with the flicking and licking, her own lips engorged and her hot spit providing all the lubrication needed. She keeps glancing up at him, gauging his face. His breath is ragged and small sounds of pleasure escape, he tries to calm his breathing and not bring an early end to the dance.

Too much..the teasing and tempting arousal has to end.. He has a primitive need to be inside this vixen of a woman,

For God's sake woman, will you suck me off? He half shouts..

She looks up, and smiles, feline again. Pursing her lips, as if to kiss him, she lowers her head to his cock, pushing him into her hot, wet mouth... He thrusts up, instinctively taking her by surprise. Her tongue is circling again, all around the rim as she lifts her head up and down , slowly ,quickly, the pace changing maddeningly.

Enough, he can stand no more, he puts his fingers in her curls, lifting her face, then holds her head as her fucks her mouth, hard and deep.

When he comes, his spunk shoots into her throat in long hot spurts. She swallows joyfully, and grins into his eyes as he pulls her up the length of his body and kisses her deeply for the longest time.

She snuggles next to him, head on his chest, his fingers stroking and curling her hair as they whisper each other to sleep in the soft dappled Normandy sun.