Would Like To Meet. No Strings Ch. 03

PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

She looked across at David once more. The transitory bitter thoughts about Paul were driven from her head by his evident hunger for her, and by the bulge in his trousers. She was tempted to make a more definite move, but held back. There was plenty of time ahead yet. Another few minutes would do no harm!

She stepped past him once more to stand by the side of the bed nearest to where he was sitting and pretending to read. She leaned forward over the bed. She knew that her saucy dress had risen high up the backs of her thighs, and that her legs and backside were only inches from her hand.

She leaned further down. She knew that not only were his eyes feasting on the backs of her thighs, on her fishnet stockings and her skirt hem, but that he must be able to see up inside the white-frilled hem of her dress to her panties.

Panties? Knickers was the real term for them. French knickers. She had chosen them especially for today, to be in keeping with the suggestive outfit. She knew that not all blokes liked them. But she loved the feel of them next to her skin. They were made of silk, pure silk. They made her feel a little luxurious. And, because of their relative unpopularity, slightly exotic. And naughty. They left a little gap all around her thighs. A gap that would allow a finger or two to slip inside...

Her eyes alighted on a little damp mark on the duvet. She hadn't spotted it before. She felt shocked and ashamed at leaving such evidence behind for the hotel domestic staff to notice and gossip, and smirk about. Yet she also felt pleased by it. She leaned a little lower still, giving him an even better eyeful of what was up her costume than before. She shook her head as she lookd at the damp mark.

"Ooh la la! Ooh la LA!" she exclaimed.

He stepped closer and stood next to her. Her nearness excited him immensely. He could not resist tilting his head to one side to see her knickers. He felt a surge of arousal. He normally preferred little panties but these seemed unusual and very much in keeping with the way she was dressed and with the scenario they were acting out. They were pure white and looked expensive. They were mainly plain but trimmed with lace. Although they were quite short, they didn't hug her but hung down loosely around the tops of her plump thighs.

"What's wrong, Madame? Er... quest ce que c'est? Oh... oh... I see what you mean..."

To his shock, revulsion and delight she rubbed her finger across the slight sticky patch and raised it to her nose.

"It's spunk – and pussy juice, Madame," he muttered. As she turned to look at him, he felt shocked with himself for speaking so coarsely to his former neighbour.

She stifled a grin and managed to look at him with a saucy but puzzled expression.

"Oh er... never mind..."he said, feigning frustration at her apparent inability to understand what he said. " I wish I knew the words but I don't. Never mind! Er... it's nothing... er.. rien, rien!" he added.

His crude talk excited her. So did her own pretence not to understand. She shook her head and went to the bathroom. She returned with her cloth, now dampened, and the bar of soap. Again she made a big show of leaning forward, dabbing and rubbing the mark with the cloth and the soap, showing him her white silk drawers.

He was longing to slip his hand up her dress, and maybe just inside those knickers, too, to stroke her thigh, then maybe even her pussy. But she had already arranged a signal and hadn't yet given it. So he made himself refrain. All the time his heart was thumping as his ultimate fantasy unfolded before him.

After a few minutes of dabbing and rubbing, Madame Martin seemed content. She straightened up – to his disappointment – and moved over to the coffee table. It contained a number of items – some notepaper with the hotel letterhead, a couple of menus for the restaurant, a glossy brochure about the health club and pool.

Joan's heart was pounding in her breast. She was impressed and pleased by his chivalrous restraint, despite his obvious ardour. She felt desired and desirable, and feminine. She felt she was getting her own back, even if secretly, on her husband for his cheating on her, and in their marital house and bed, at that. But as she felt David's hungry gaze on her she felt strong and in control, too. She was dictating the pace, deciding when to pause and when to progress. And, having whispered to him the sign when and how to come on to her, she felt that she held the trump card.

Her mind went back all those years when she had teased him in his garden with a view up her skirt. She grinned at the memory as she let the papers slide – seemingly by accident – from her grasp.

"Oh, merde!" she exclaimed.

Dave blushed. In his schooldays he and some friends had, puerilely, looked up some rude words in a French-English dictionary. He remembered the word for "shit!" even after all this time. To hear it from Mrs. Martin's mouth was quite something.

Then she did it. She gave the signal. She parted her legs – her mature sexy legs – and leaned slowly forward until she was almost touching her toes. Her maid's dress rode up and the backs of her thighs cane into view, their tops naked above her fishnet stockingtops. As she stooped lower still her sexy, expensive-looking knickers came into sight, too. The white silk contrasted deliciously with the inner black surface of her dress, with the colour of her skin, and with the black of her fishnets. He rubbed his rising erection and stepped towards her.

She picked up most of the leaflets and other items in one go and straightened a little. She dropped them on the corner of the bed. She turned and stooped tantalisingly slowly again to pick up the remainder. Again her dress rose slowly and invitingly. Again her thighs appeared, then her French knickers with the cheeky gap between the high-cut knicker legs and her skin.

He grabbed the feather duster where she had left it on the bed and ran it up her inner thigh. He tickled her skin with it. She twitched at the feel of the feathers teasing her sensitive skin, stood up straight and giggled. But she also wagged her finger reprovingly.

"Non, monsieur! Pas la! Mais non!"

The wagging of her finger aroused him massively. He raised the feather duster and brushed the tops of her breasts with it, watching the movement of the dark soft feathers on her smooth-looking skin above her neckline.

"Non, monsieur!" she said a little more firmly, and pulled away. She stepped back a couple of paces. He reversed the feather duster, holding it by the feathers and pointing the stick end towards her. He rubbed its tip against her crotch and lifted her little apron with it.

She gave a little gasp.

He lifted the hem of her dress with it.

"Monsieur! Non, NON!" She tried to sound convincing without raising her voice too much and risking being overheard.

She stepped back, but stood with her legs still parted and he slid the wooden end of the duster up inside her maid-dress and gently rubbed her crotch with it. She giggled, but pushed it away and tried to look serious.

Her French words thrilled him. It was truly a delicious detail to the scene they were playing with. He held the feathered end of the duster against his erection and lewdly pointed the other end at her as if it was a long, skinny penis.

"Mais oui, Madame, oui! Je vous desire beaucoup..." he said huskily. His throat was dry with lust for her.

Still holding the feather duster at about forty-five degrees from his crotch towards hers, he nudged forward, gently poking and rubbing its tip against her in a very lewd gesture.

"Oui, Madame, let me fuck you... laissez-moi... do this! MERDE, I don't know how to say it but you must be able to understand THIS!"

She stepped back another pace. He still waved the duster rudely up and down as if the wooden phallus was real and coming to, and from, attention.

She felt very aroused now. It wasn't as if they were acting out a tightly and over-scripted scene, she had just whispered a few ideas. His own improvisations were at least as naughty as hers, and it thrilled her that he was as keen to role-play as she was. She briefly wondered whether she needed any other replies to her "Would like to meet... for no-strings adult fun" advert that she had placed.

"Non, Monsieur! NON!" she protested, but her eyes betrayed her.

He leaned forward and rubbed the wooden tip of the duster against her crotch again. She feigned a shocked facial expression. But then she gave a little giggle. Then she sank slowly to the floor. He felt a surge of arousal and delight.

Madame Martin took hold of the tip of the duster as he held it out from his groin. She stroked it and kissed it as if it was indeed a very long but thin penis. She tugged it down a little and flicked her tongue across its hard, unyielding tip. She gazed up into his lusty face. He glanced into hers in return, then his gaze was drawn back to her red-glossed mouth as she kissed and licked the stick end of the duster.

With a sudden move that startled him she grabbed the feather duster and flung it across the room. She knelt up a bit higher and, cupping her hands under her breasts, rubbed them unsubtly and wantonly across his trouser-clad crotch. She pressed herself against his hardness and unzipped his trousers. Then she unfastened the button and jerked his trousers down to his knees. He groaned.

She nuzzled his throbbing erection through the soft, musky cotton of his boxers. Her boldness surprised even her. The blood was pumping in her ears.

"Monsieur, ooh monsieur, il est tellement grand, n'est pas? TELLEMENT grand! Et... tellement.. DUR!"

Dave racked his brain. It wasn't easy to concentrate as she tugged his boxers down and fondled his hard cock. Ah, yes, that was it!

"You're right there, Madame, as you say, it's so big, isn't it? And so HARD!" he sneered.

She sucked it for a few moments. He looked down at the rude movements of her shiny lips and the bobbing up and down of her white, starched headpiece as she worked her mouth over his boxers. She found his hard balls and sucked them through his boxers. A damp patch from her mouth appeared. It looked very lewd.

She slid her fingers up inside his boxers and stroked his hard, hairy balls. He groaned. She looked up at him and smiled cheekily.

"C'est bon, monsieur?" she murmured.

"Tres bon, Madame. Unbelievably fucking bon!" he groaned. "Continuez, Madame!"

He bent slightly forward and slid the zip of her dress down a little. He caressed the soft skin of her back and ran his fingers along the back panel of her white bra.

Madame Martin was now licking and kissing his erection, and again he looked down at the damp cotton of his boxers and at her head, adorned with the white maid headpiece, as she moved along his throbbing length. She started to suck his tip through his boxers.

He took the back of her bra and gently but firmly tugged it back and forth from her. She gave a little whimper of pleasure as she felt her breasts being rhythmically squeezed by his bra-tugging. She was thrilled by his imagination.

She stood up and pointed to the bed. He pretended he wanted to confirm her intentions, pointing to himself, then to her, then to the bed, and making a questioning gesture. She nodded.

He pulled down his boxers and stepped out of them. He got onto the duvet, avoiding the damp patch, and lay on his side. She walked quickly to the bed and leaned forward. He gazed at her breasts inside her maid's dress. She rolled him onto his back. Then, to his surprise and huge delight, she clambered onto the bed and stood on it astride him. Her black stiletto hells dug into the covers.

She stared down at his face, his eyes almost glazed with desire for her. She needed no caressing or other stimulation to prepare her, she was ready and desperate for him. She slid her arms behind her back and he heard the zip of her dress slide down.

He watched as she peeled the top of her dress down. He stared at her white lacy bra and the soft-looking skin of the tops of her breasts above it. This skin was slightly lined. Truly she was the mature, experienced woman of his wildest imagination. He stared at his own erection. It was as hard as he had ever known it and was pulsing.

She knelt on her haunches. He stared at her legs in the fishnet stockings and stroked them. The feel of the soft mesh with her skin underneath and between it was very sensual. He gazed up as she dug one hand, then the other, inside her bra to scoop her fabulous, C-cup breasts free. He had already kissed, caressed and sucked them a short time ago, but such was the strength and longstanding fixation on her that he was engrossed by the sight.

She thrilled to see the keenness of his stare, knowing that he had imagined them often for so long, that many times he had closed his eyes and masturbated to the thought of them.

She knelt beside him and took his hand in hers. She led it inside her dress hem. She placed it on her bare inner thigh, and guided it up to her silk knickers. He groaned. She whimpered. He slid his hand inside the leg and stroked the very top of her thigh, and found her dank, hairy pussy.

She sighed.

"Ah oui, monsieur, oui! Ma chatte, caressez ma chatte..."

He realised that she was using a variation of the French word for cat. His heart was beating quicker than before.

"Oh, yeah, Madame likes her PUSSY being caressed, huh?" he grunted. In response she whimpered and gasped softly as he explored its contours through her damp, silk underwear. She gave a few little thrusts against his hand.

Then she stood up on the bed again and dragged her knickers down. She stepped out of them and squatted on her haunches astride him. She hiked up her dress to her waist. Her breasts flopped forward and her nipples were erect. She held his throbbing erection in her hand, lusting for it but denying herself for a few more aching moments. She lowered herself and rubbed her tender pussy against its length, allowing it to rub and nestle lengthways against her slit rather than taking it in. He stared at her stilettos digging into the bed.

She raised herself and repeated this several times. He stared at the rude sight, and although she was divorced, the sight of her wedding ring thrilled him. It was as if the clock had been turned back and he was about to have sex with another man's wife, to be inside her when he had no right.

The words came to her head. She was shocked as she found herself speaking them. She had never spoken of herself in such a way during sex, but the role-play made it seem natural and easier to do.

"Ooh monsieur, monsieur, je suis une chienne... une chienne sale... votre chienne... prenez votre chienne sale..."

It was unbelievable to hear his former neighbour speak like this. It was even more incredible to hear her calling herself a bitch, a dirty bitch, and urging him to take her.

She guided him into her slick opening and began to ride him slowly but hard and deep. The bed squeaked softly in time with her thrusts. He stared at his hard cock as it drove inside her hairy minge and partly re-emerged again. The sight was very rude and erotic. He gripped her fishnet-covered legs.

He gazed at her, her juicy breasts rocking rhythmically up and down as she rode him. He stared at her fishnet-clad legs and thighs, and the black suspenders with their cheeky white bows. He gazed at her naughty outfit hiked up around her waist, and at her sexy face, almost grimacing as she ground against him.

"Okay then, Madame, okay then. Hold still and I WILL take you..."

Despite her using the rude French term for herself, he could not bring himself to use it himself to her. But he did reply, "Yeah, alright then, I'll take you, Madame... ohhh yeah, I'm going to come inside your naughty 'chatte', Madame!"

She held still and rigid to allow him to thrust against her. She thrilled in his deep driving inside her, filling her, pushing her up and down, filling her. She looked down at the thrusting movements of his pelvis. He in turn stared alternately at the sight of his cock ramming into her hairy pussy and at the vigorous bouncing of her breasts. He came very quickly and so did she. But it didn't matter at all. They were both entirely sated.

As before she cuddled up beside him and held him close, and they remained silent for a time, simply enjoying the intimacy.

12
Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
1 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
Delicious French Maid fantasy!

How I'd love to act this out with one of the mature ladies in my life!

Share this Story

Similar Stories

After School Special Todd's mistake gets surprising results from Miss Ross.in Mature
Party with the Neighbor MILFs A teen joins his four mature women neighbors.in Mature
Donna Fucks Son's Friend Bareback Donna teaches son's best friend a lesson in satisfying women.in Mature
Allison A young man discovers his girlfriend's mom is amazing.in Mature
Maggie the Mature Slut Dan gets seduced by mum's best friend at a party.in Mature
More Stories